Outlander

My husband found Outlander on Netflix and being of Scottish heritage was immediately entranced. When I walked in during the third episode he said he'd be happy to start it again so that I could catch up. Since then it has been a part of our evening activities. I believe it is a major hit so I won't bother setting out the plot.

What intrigues me is Claire's marriage in the 1940s to Frank, a dashing but rather reserved and removed man who Claire entices back into an emotional life with her after their estrangement during the War. But, when she suddenly finds herself dropped down into a life 200 years earlier on the Scottish moors, entangled in a skirmish between Redcoats and Scottish highlanders, it is Jamie Fraser who rescues her time and time again from evil men and dangerous situations, and from her own actions and decisions as well. The two of them will find great joys in marriage; a union designed to try to keep her safe. Those sexual scenes on their honeymoon are delicious fare. Yet, given a choice, Claire continues to want to return to her own life in the twentieth century, to Frank.

The sadistic and evil 'Black Jack' Randall, a forebear of Frank who looks just like him and speaks just like him is quite fixated with our Claire. He wants to question her, yes; part of his job you might say, but it is so much more than that. Those scenes where he messes with Claire, punching her in the solar plexus so that she can't breathe, or cutting away at her clothes to reveal her breasts, or threatening her with malevolent intent, really do make me hold my breath. You can feel the evil oozing out of his every pore.

I felt sick to my stomach during the scene where the bastard whips Jamie unmercifully trying to 'break' him. It was unbearable to watch. I listened, remained in the room, but I drowned it out, disassociated with it. It is Randall's explanation as to how intimate he finds the whipping process that had my skin crawling. Such scenes remind me that evil really does exist in the world and that some men truly believe that by harming someone else they can find beauty and solace. To a healthy mind, that makes no sense.

It is at just the moment when we are in morbid fear for Claire that there is relief. Jamie appears at the window and demands that Randall take his hands off his wife. Dashing, pure and exuding goodness and honour, yet sexy as all get out, we feel safe again knowing that Jamie will somehow save the day regardless of more trials that he will no doubt have to endure before he can save Claire. (This is where we are up to in the series.)

I do wonder how the writers can resolve the dilemma that has abounded from the start. Claire loves Frank who is the descendent of this tyrannical bastard who emotionally and physically torments her, and she is growing to love Jamie as well. Who could not? How does she choose between them?

Somewhere, deep in my psyche and from the youngest age, there has been some innate understanding that there are good men who love and care for women, the 'Jamies' of the world, and there are men who narcissistically want control of women for their own reasons. When I married my husband I knew I was marrying a Jamie and with that understanding clear in my mind, I know I will always be married to him. I'll always choose true love. But, Claire's dilemma is even more complicated. Frank is no 'Black Jack', but nor does he have the deep sense of loyalty and innate need to protect a woman that comes so naturally to Jamie. Would Jamie have decided to return to Oxford without finding Claire first? Hardly. I'll be fascinated to see what comes of her.

The sadist

There's the part of me that's simply submissive. I don't want to lead. I want to follow. I want to know my place; to be of service; to feel owned. Lots of people want that. They want to be good and to get the praise and the care, and all's well. I guess that's what you call 'D/s'.

For me, it's not enough. It's a whole lot better than nothing but submission alone isn't enough for me. I'm a masochist. I get off on physical and emotional sadistic glee pointed in my direction.

I don't mean I want some mean and nasty man in my life. I want a nice man in my life who just so happens to get off on being sadistic in the same way I get off on experiencing masochism.

I don't want to be able to predict everything. I don't want to predict much at all. I want to be caught off guard; to feel like prey. I want to suddenly find myself at the behest of his beastly bastardry.

His is a particularly keen, gourmet appetite, this diner with whom I wish to sit at my table. There's no doubt he's a planner and he's orchestrated this meal; soup to nuts.

There's only one detail of this meal of which I can be sure. He'll feast on my desire and I'll come away satiated, because he would never allow me to go away hungry. He can be such a glutton, but he wouldn't dream of not sharing the repast!

Even if it means I'll think of him as the dick that he can be on such occasions, I'll revel in that too. Oh dear. He knows me too well.

Erotic images

I imagine that, like me, most people masturbate to images that please them and arouse them. I'll note here my most recent images, those of this morning; images that brought me to climax at my own hand.

I have an Owner. This becomes very apparent because when I knock on his study door on my return home he reminds me that I have failed to complete a task.

It is true. The task has slipped my mind. I apologize and say that I will tend to it immediately. He replies that before this takes place, a written task, he needs to "correct me" to impress upon me the most important rule of all; the rule from which all other rules originate.

'What is your most important rule, girl?'

'To do as told.'

'To do as told. The correction will help to impress this upon you.'

He produces a tawse. He has me take off my panties and bend over his desk. He has me count each stroke and to thank him for each stoke; strokes that help me to learn my lesson.

I have yet to climax. I need to feel the connection with my sadist Owner more intensely.

He lectures me a little; not sternly, just more talk about training me to respond to his every whim instantly; the desire to please him as being my first and uppermost thought.

Then, he says that he wants to keep my attention right now on my warm ass. Thus, I am to stand close to the open fire with my bottom presented to the fire, to maintain the heat; to remind me of the work of the tawse.

He assists me into position, bends me over and spreads my cheeks. He wants, he says, for every last inch of my backside to feel the glow of the embers.  Noting my anal plug is in place (God forbid I'd broken that rule!) he tells me that today it will remain in place for longer than usual; that I am not to remove it until I am granted permission.

Buzz words do it for me - 'permission' is an instant turn on for me. I am much wetter now; way more aroused now.

Of course, I struggle. The flames are making it incredibly difficult to remain in place and yet, having disappointed once already today, I know that I must endure. He might as well say, 'suffer for me', because that is what he wants me to do, and that is what I know I must do, for his sake and for mine.

The whimpers become more intense, more desperate. He comes to me finally and allows the back of my skirt to fall down over my very red ass. He tells me to rise. He holds me close. 'Good girl'.

'Do you wish to serve your Owner?'

I am desperate to do so. I nod. He leads me further away from the open fire and silently commands me to my knees. My mouth opens at the sight of his cock and without further invitation I take it into my mouth as one might put one's lips to the Holy Grail; with reverence and awe. Immediately, I feel at peace.

He speaks to me at times - that it is my place to serve him; that it is his pleasure that matters the most, and all through these words, I hear them merely as distant music in the background. My head is empty of thought. My mind is absorbed in a sense of grateful fulfilment and abandon.

Unexpectedly, he holds my head tight in his hands, the signal that he will dictate the pace from now on. He thrusts his cock deep in my mouth at rapid speed. Meanwhile, I am lost in sensations of being used, of being of use; of having an Owner; of being at one with him and of being at one with myself.

 He comes hard, grunting, spurting hot cum into my mouth. I have my own version of an orgasm;  it is a massive relief to the soul to be treated in this way.

 In real life, I'd reached my own climax, but even so it's hard to let the images go. They provide me with intense relief from a fundamentally vanilla marriage. I am the kinky one around these parts. So, I added one last little detail to the scene. The task was a written one. In his study is a school desk - wooden with a wooden chair  to match. He has me complete the overdue written task sitting at that desk, with my corrected bottom directly on the seat.

Of all the events that afternoon I find this one the most humiliating. I can't get lost in sexuality. It is all about 'place'; humiliation; enforcing my role as his charge and his role as my authority figure. It just thrills me to the core, that image.  

When three is not a crowd

My sexuality is expressed through thoughts of having someone control me. Thus, I'm aroused by the thoughts of my partner being direct about what he wants.

'Take your clothes off.'
'Come here.'
'No, you don't need a second coffee.'
'I'd like you to have your breasts pierced and I've arranged an appointment for tomorrow.'
'Bend over the bench. It is time for your inspection.'

All these sorts of words, whether in reality, in a story or in my imagination, arouse me. I am not comfortable having much wiggle room nor am I naturally inclined to ask or initiate situations in general, though I continue to try to modify this instinct to allow for more assertiveness.

This morning my mind stretched over other landscapes. What if he were to say this:

'I have arranged for us to play with another girl and I'd like you to dominate her. I'd like you to hurt her. She has given her consent to this and it would thrill me for you to do this.'

I've already vaguely sketched out in my mind something like this scenario because I am such an afficionado of films like 'Story of O' where the man's love interest is asked to carry out sadistic behaviours towards another girl.

I honestly don't think there is the vaguest sadistic streak within me, but if asked to do this in a no nonsense way, it seems almost impossible that I would refuse. She has given her consent to the experience, it would make the man I love thrilled, and (wait for it) I kinda like the way an implement feels in my hand. I've whacked myself with a few implements and found it something I could do without difficulty, so it makes sense that I could bring a paddle or a whip down on a girl's backside, if told to do so, and not be distressed about it.

As a submissive, one is familiar with the sting or thud of implements. Sure, it hurts, but the experience can also be very profound, cathartic, joyful, enriching and satisfying. Knowing that those cries of panic and distress can be transformed into something deeply arousing and fulfilling could well make the dominant experience something that wouldn't be at all arduous to perform.

Honestly, I've never allowed my mind to focus on giving rather than receiving pain in this way ever before, at least not in my conscious mind, but it is has to be said, under the right circumstances, it could be deeply rewarding for all participants.

To watch someone 'fly' must be a real trip. I saw this happen once in a documentary, where this older woman had a girl on a fucking machine who was spaced out on the most profound orgasms. Over the older woman's face was an expression of such elation that she had enabled the joy and release. I paid particular attention to that and found it to be both erotic and tender.

What I continue to feel is that I don't have the personality to insist on outcomes, to demand my way or to exert my force on another person. If they said, 'No more', I'd say, 'Okay, I'm sorry, are you ok, sweetie?' rather than, 'Oh that's too bad because I'm not finished yet.' There's no way it would be a good idea to leave me in the room on my own because I'd botch the experience, but if the sadistically/dominant oriented man was with me, yes, I could do his bidding in this way. I know I could.

Sadistic response

There has been talk recently, in academic circles mostly, that the sadist and the masochist are on the same side of the coin; that is, there is some sadism in the masochist and some masochism in the sadist. I've done a bit of research on this and some thinking, and whilst I don't refute the concept as out of hand, I don't think that generalisations of this order are of particularly great value when considering any particular individual.

I've searched my mind and soul for any sadistic drivers in myself and I can't really find anything to speak of. Sure, I am capable of being inconsiderate or of not understanding someone else, or of not understanding all their needs. It is entirely possible that I'm driven by my own set of neuroses and/or needs and wants and I don't necessarily see the needs of the other with clarity because they interfere with my own. But, we are all capable of this, aren't we?! Don't we all regret some behaviors at times; wish we had been more empathic, considerate and kind?

But, I'll give you this. I understand the sadist's mind better now - today - than I did yesterday. Here's why...

We used to have two dogs. One died some time back and that left the little girl alone. She was sad, as were we, and thus we jollied her along; gave her liberties. She, in kind, was quite good. Yes, she'd still pee in the house when it rained. She'll do that forever, without a doubt. She doesn't like to be wet and she'll take her chances at being in trouble about it. It freaks me out. It upsets me greatly, but since it hasn't been raining all that much, I have lived with it, even though she always pees on carpet, which is it's own nightmare.

In the past two weeks she has taken it upon herself to pee in two different places and I've been upset with her, but not overly so. I think I've been distracted and simply cleaned the mess as best I could. This morning, I woke to find my son cleaning up a large pee in a third spot, on the way up the stairs. I saw red.

I grabbed the dog, and took her to the wet spot, and asked, "Do you see that? Did you do that? DID YOU??? You're a very, very naughty girl!!" I gave her two swats on her ass and put her down. "Get out! GET OUT!"

She made for the door and I alerted the family left in the house that she was staying outside for a few hours. She knew she was in trouble and it wasn't until I got home about noon that I heard her whimpering at the laundry door to get in. I opened it and told her that I was still unhappy and I whipped a tea towel down on the ground in front of her nose to make the point more emphatically.

She made for the dog door and went outside, making her way in later in a cagey, underhanded kind of way. She didn't bother to come to me. I made no offers to accept her. Instead, she went and lay under the coffee table, grateful to be somewhat close, I think, and enjoying the feel of the carpet under her.

Honestly, I felt much as a sadist, at least, the sadist that entered my life, probably feels. I was punishing her not so much by corporal punishment (two smacks isn't that big of a deal) but by banishment. If she wants to behave like a untrained, disobedient bitch then she has to accept the consequences of that. I've been banished myself so I know just how she feels, yet I don't feel a moment's sympathy for her. She brought this on herself. I mean, my God, it hasn't even been raining lately!

She's made a few attempts to come my way, standing in front of me in the laundry a few times and getting in my way, but I don't feel inclined to her at all. If I accept her I'm accepting her behavior and she'll just go and do it again when she feels inclined. Better to have a darn good long feeling of being rejected and get it into her head that if she wants to live here - to be treated like the princess she believes herself to be - then she lives here and plays by the rules.

See, that sounds ultra Disciplinarian, doesn't it? Sadistic, even?  Maybe that is going too far, although I am punishing knowing that I am causing her some vague emotional distress in order to alter behavior. Maybe, that's sadistic...

What a pain in the ass it must be for the disciplinarian/sadist to have a person repeatedly do the wrong thing! I used to think that it would be boring to have a girl behave well all the time. I like a little chutzpah in a person and I like to test the waters myself. I like to go up to the line and mark that territory. Yet, if my little girl were to behave nicely all the time, what a relief that would be; that finally, after all this time she was well trained, well behaved; knew the rules and obeyed them. Wouldn't that be so much better than this nasty scenario? Even 'nice' people will punish, if they have to. I wonder if I learned to be this way by example...

Masochism and libido

By being more 'mindful' of what it is happening in the moment it is possible to tap into our subconscious thoughts and to transfer them into our conscious mind. This is important because our subconscious mind tends to hold onto old hurt and negative experiences and to endlessly recycle these experiences. Feelings from our childhood such as feeling controlled, helpless, rejected, unloved, abandoned and so on don't suddenly disappear as we grow older. To put it in other words we can remain attached to these feelings. They are unresolved feelings for us.

Although we may want to feel loved or respected, we haven't come to terms, necessarily, with our feelings of having been disrespected or unloved. So, we fear being disrespected or unloved yet again, remaining attached to that feeling.

It is thought by some psychotherapists  that we can libidinize these feelings - recreate and recycle them as a part of our libido. The negative feelings accord with our sense of injustice and so we must develop "psychological defense systems designed to cover up our emotional attachment to old negative experiences". In this process we may blame others for negative feelings we currently experience, that are really more concerned with covering up these negative feelings from the past that we are playing out over and over again.

In our willingness to recycle these feelings over and over again we are, it is thought, involving ourselves in an "unconscious masochism" which is tapped into when we experience sexual pleasure from various forms of abuse or denigration. Michaelson goes on to discuss sadism as a form of masochism (by identifying with the passivity of the masochist) but let's focus on the masochist's motives and experiences for this post.

What interested me particularly were his comments about the "dark side" - that affinity with negative experiences - and how recycling negative experiences can lead to emotional defensiveness such as apathy, self-pity, self-absorption, cruelty, greed, hatred and violence. By making the dark side conscious, he suggests, we can overcome the negative influences of them.

I know that people who engage in BDSM are inclined to be defensive about their practices, needs and desires. It is upsetting to be looked down on or to be considered perverted for engaging in relationships and experiences that allow us to enjoy our sexual natures.

At the same time, I am not prepared to dismiss Michaelson's comments, even though I'm not completely comfortable with the article for obvious reasons. I don't doubt that I have brought into my adult life some negative feelings and experiences from my childhood. The reality is that I, fundamentally, brought myself up. My parents were very busy and engaged in business life, so whilst I knew that I was loved and that they were proud of me, it was the sort of love that one experiences from a distance. It is true, too, that what I was good at doing wasn't seen as particularly worthy attributes to have, which I didn't find easy, but I may be 'feeling' that to be the case, rather than something that was in their minds. I could be wrong.

I am well aware also that there is a negative and annoying inner voice that often speaks to me saying such cruel things as "why would you bother even doing a writing course when you have no talent?" In my first years of school I think I was made to write with my right hand (I don't have clear memories of what actually happened) until it was considered hopeless and I was allowed to write with my left hand. According to my reports in first and second grades something profound happened in that year and from second grade, and thereafter, I was an A student. Unfortunately, my fourth grade teacher said to my mother, who then told me, that I wouldn't be able to maintain that standard and it put a doubt in my mind that has never gone away. 'Higher Distinctions' recently achieved, evidence one would of thought of some capability, does not make the doubt go. I definitely am recycling some negative feelings and experiences.

But, am I recycling them in the form of masochism? That's the big question. Have I libidinized those old feelings? When I experience sexual pleasure from various forms of "abuse and denigration" am I tapping into previously felt emotional suffering and recycling it yet again? Well, maybe I am. I don't really know. I will continue to dwell on this and see what comes up.

I can say this. It's a very rare day when I feel unloved or disrespected in the power exchange arena of my life. When I live under the dome of understanding that I am to be monitored and when I experience pain/pleasure that releases me from the reality of the moment (a sort of mindfulness of sensation I think), I feel a sense of great happiness. It is not only being done to me but for me. My mind translates these experiences as loving experiences. Perhaps I am working on feelings of having felt unloved or disrespected in the past. It is entirely possible. Yet, I can't see the negativity or harm that comes from doing what I do. I am aware that I am reliant on these experiences for my happiness and to that end I continue to work on a sense of self that enables me to feel whole, no matter what happens. The fact remains that I am elevated by these feelings and experiences and I continue to feel that this must surely be a positive experience. But, as always, I am open to learning more.