I think of a fantasy as a private screening of a short movie. We sit as a sole audience member and the story unfolds. It was after a fantasy this week that I found myself wondering why it would be that a fantasy devised just for me would include something in the story line that I don't want.
The man to whom I had been betrothed, on the understanding that he was my leader and rule maker, had taken me for the first time to his bedroom. It was a lovely room with a big bed, but after he showed me the bedroom he led me to an alcove, a separate little spot where there was a low bed up against a wall and some restraints attached to the wall. This was where I would often sleep, he told me.
He said no more than that and as the person under his charge, and new to the household, I accepted this news with surprise but not alarm. I'd been educated in the ways of dominant men at the Institution where I had voluntarily enrolled to find a suitable husband. It was this man who had chosen me after numerous visits to the Institution where he watched me closely, especially as I reacted to him. If this was the way he wanted it to be, then so be it.
Later, dressed and out in the world, my mind returned to this fantasy and I found myself wondering why I would allow into my fantasy (if that is in fact what one does - allow?) something that I find most unappealing. I adore to sleep snuggled up to my husband, half on his chest. I sleep best this way, deeper, more relaxed and peaceful, so why would my mind imagine a scenario where I slept on my own, even restrained to the wall, as being pleasing?
Later still, a memory popped into my head which helped me understand what was going on here. My first boyfriend came into my life when I was 18 years old. His older brother was a friend of a friend and we became very close. We weren't ever intimate but he'd take great comfort from my body, sometimes driving me (way too fast) far into the country and then wrapping himself around me for comfort. His home life was complicated and he was looking for feminine solace from me, not sex. Over time, his younger brother, my age, made his moves and our relationship developed into a sexual one. I lost my viriginity to him on a boat.
He'd take me home to his father's house, or his mother's house, since they were in the process of separating. His mother had moved away to the sea, to the holiday house which was in fact her own house, and his father remained in the family home with the children. It was a fantasy house for me, everything I could ever want. It was old, rambling and, for me, magical. It had a huge veranda, big windows that looked onto an overgrown expansive garden with plenty of fruit trees.
His father was always very welcoming and I revelled in the conversations over dinner there. He was a medical specialist, a little odd for sure, but in the best way as far as I was concerned. It amazed me how he would sit down by the fire with a bunch of eighteen year old misfit lads and give them his time and wisdom in a way that didn't seem at all preachy or fatherly. I'd never experienced anything quite like the atmosphere of that house and I loved it.
Stan had a girlfriend, a beautiful Italian girl and she would sometimes be at the house. We all embraced her as his love, but of course it wasn't a particularly straightforward situation for any of us. The mother, a beautiful, elegant and refined English woman who had grown up in India, had been passed over, let's face it, and the boys were torn in their loyalties. Still, to see the two of them together, often just sitting side by side nursing a drink and talking softly to one another somehow assured us that this love affair was meant to be and I genuinely was fond of them both.
Sometimes, Lucy would go home at night quite late. I distinctly remember Stan relating the story of kissing her good night and putting her in her little car only to be sitting on the veranda that late summer night and hearing the sound of the car crash in the distance and just knowing that it was her. Of course, he went immediately to her and took her to hospital where he personally put her back together again.
Sometimes, she would sleep over. It was a really big house and there was just no way she wanted to walk into the marital bedroom. So, Stan set himself up in a sitting room with a bedroom that was set off from that sitting room. It had a double bed in there, but there was also a small single bed, a cot really, in the sitting room, in a far corner of the sitting room and often Lucy slept there. I know for a fact it was a passionately physical relationship but there were evenings when her mind could not handle that she was sleeping with a married man with his teenagers in other parts of the house and she would choose to sleep in the little single bed.
There is something about this, I am sure now, that my brain processed as 'erotic'. He was so deeply in love with her, her boss in more ways than one, and yet it was agreed that sometimes she would sleep alone in a little single bed in an area adjacent to his bed. All my kinky mind needed to do was add a few restraints whereby she waited for him to release her in the morning as it suited him, and my fantasy was complete.
If we could burrow deep into the subconscious mind I'm sure this sort of material is available to us. I don't think we make the whole enchilada up ourselves but rather some experiences are simply 'processed' as being erotic, desired; beautiful.
In more recent times I've processed, it would seem, some very unpleasant situations as part and parcel of a loving/caring kinky relationship.
Yet, when I think about the content of my fantasies, never in any of my fantasies has rejection of more than an hour or so at best played a part. I can't translate rejection into something that is arousing. I'm punished plenty in my fantasies but I'm never rejected. The punishments are always part of the love and devotion that he feels for me as he steers me towards a deeper, more connected life together. I accept the discipline as part of my love for him secure in the knowledge that he adores me. Anything and everything that happens in my many fantasies relate to coming closer together in some way.
Any sense of being intentionally emotionally absent by an Owner is entirely absent from my fantasy life with particularly harsh treatment left to be dished out by those who have no emotional attachment to me whatsoever. To my mind, rejection and love/affection are quite alien and cannot be aligned.
The man to whom I had been betrothed, on the understanding that he was my leader and rule maker, had taken me for the first time to his bedroom. It was a lovely room with a big bed, but after he showed me the bedroom he led me to an alcove, a separate little spot where there was a low bed up against a wall and some restraints attached to the wall. This was where I would often sleep, he told me.
He said no more than that and as the person under his charge, and new to the household, I accepted this news with surprise but not alarm. I'd been educated in the ways of dominant men at the Institution where I had voluntarily enrolled to find a suitable husband. It was this man who had chosen me after numerous visits to the Institution where he watched me closely, especially as I reacted to him. If this was the way he wanted it to be, then so be it.
Later, dressed and out in the world, my mind returned to this fantasy and I found myself wondering why I would allow into my fantasy (if that is in fact what one does - allow?) something that I find most unappealing. I adore to sleep snuggled up to my husband, half on his chest. I sleep best this way, deeper, more relaxed and peaceful, so why would my mind imagine a scenario where I slept on my own, even restrained to the wall, as being pleasing?
Later still, a memory popped into my head which helped me understand what was going on here. My first boyfriend came into my life when I was 18 years old. His older brother was a friend of a friend and we became very close. We weren't ever intimate but he'd take great comfort from my body, sometimes driving me (way too fast) far into the country and then wrapping himself around me for comfort. His home life was complicated and he was looking for feminine solace from me, not sex. Over time, his younger brother, my age, made his moves and our relationship developed into a sexual one. I lost my viriginity to him on a boat.
He'd take me home to his father's house, or his mother's house, since they were in the process of separating. His mother had moved away to the sea, to the holiday house which was in fact her own house, and his father remained in the family home with the children. It was a fantasy house for me, everything I could ever want. It was old, rambling and, for me, magical. It had a huge veranda, big windows that looked onto an overgrown expansive garden with plenty of fruit trees.
His father was always very welcoming and I revelled in the conversations over dinner there. He was a medical specialist, a little odd for sure, but in the best way as far as I was concerned. It amazed me how he would sit down by the fire with a bunch of eighteen year old misfit lads and give them his time and wisdom in a way that didn't seem at all preachy or fatherly. I'd never experienced anything quite like the atmosphere of that house and I loved it.
Stan had a girlfriend, a beautiful Italian girl and she would sometimes be at the house. We all embraced her as his love, but of course it wasn't a particularly straightforward situation for any of us. The mother, a beautiful, elegant and refined English woman who had grown up in India, had been passed over, let's face it, and the boys were torn in their loyalties. Still, to see the two of them together, often just sitting side by side nursing a drink and talking softly to one another somehow assured us that this love affair was meant to be and I genuinely was fond of them both.
Sometimes, Lucy would go home at night quite late. I distinctly remember Stan relating the story of kissing her good night and putting her in her little car only to be sitting on the veranda that late summer night and hearing the sound of the car crash in the distance and just knowing that it was her. Of course, he went immediately to her and took her to hospital where he personally put her back together again.
Sometimes, she would sleep over. It was a really big house and there was just no way she wanted to walk into the marital bedroom. So, Stan set himself up in a sitting room with a bedroom that was set off from that sitting room. It had a double bed in there, but there was also a small single bed, a cot really, in the sitting room, in a far corner of the sitting room and often Lucy slept there. I know for a fact it was a passionately physical relationship but there were evenings when her mind could not handle that she was sleeping with a married man with his teenagers in other parts of the house and she would choose to sleep in the little single bed.
There is something about this, I am sure now, that my brain processed as 'erotic'. He was so deeply in love with her, her boss in more ways than one, and yet it was agreed that sometimes she would sleep alone in a little single bed in an area adjacent to his bed. All my kinky mind needed to do was add a few restraints whereby she waited for him to release her in the morning as it suited him, and my fantasy was complete.
If we could burrow deep into the subconscious mind I'm sure this sort of material is available to us. I don't think we make the whole enchilada up ourselves but rather some experiences are simply 'processed' as being erotic, desired; beautiful.
In more recent times I've processed, it would seem, some very unpleasant situations as part and parcel of a loving/caring kinky relationship.
Yet, when I think about the content of my fantasies, never in any of my fantasies has rejection of more than an hour or so at best played a part. I can't translate rejection into something that is arousing. I'm punished plenty in my fantasies but I'm never rejected. The punishments are always part of the love and devotion that he feels for me as he steers me towards a deeper, more connected life together. I accept the discipline as part of my love for him secure in the knowledge that he adores me. Anything and everything that happens in my many fantasies relate to coming closer together in some way.
Any sense of being intentionally emotionally absent by an Owner is entirely absent from my fantasy life with particularly harsh treatment left to be dished out by those who have no emotional attachment to me whatsoever. To my mind, rejection and love/affection are quite alien and cannot be aligned.
this is a beautiful article. it draws the reader in, carries them deep into your heart and shares with them precious and fundamental truths about you. I feel privileged to have read it. you are not alone in your need for constant connection with, and support from, your Dominant in order to be able to fully submit, of that I am sure. It helps so very much to feel held in his arms whether being praised or punished.
ReplyDeleteRollymo: Indeed. A correction or punishment is inevitable, just as night follows day. It is just a matter of 'when'. This is what makes the 'on the ground' power dynamic so much easier for both parties than a long distance relationship encompassing this dynamic. There are so few ways of punishing long distance with the goal of altering behaviour. Isolating a submissive for a time (i.e. no contact for so many days) can be effective, in one sense, but for girls like me it can evoke feelings of childlike abandonment that are so disabling this punishment can have the opposite effect. (i.e. 'Is this emotional pain worth it?') If I look back over time those punishments where I was denied a privilege but still given access to the Dominant had a very profound corrective effect without making me feel so little as to feel helpless.
ReplyDeleteThank you for the lovely compliment, by the way. That the writing pulled you in...music to my ears.