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I don't do a lot of eye contact because hello, NYC upbringing, train, 80's.
Nurture isn't chopped liver, either.
I only started making open (unmasked) eye contact with men on the street about five or six years ago; and I have had the most shocking experiences that all lasted maybe two seconds or so.
Moments in which we were both utterly naked. Moments in which I felt like I flew into the other's eyes. Moments in which we both burst out laughing.
I wore my sexual desire in my eyes until really strange things started happening. Interactions with strangers and acquaintances that defied social conventions, and threatened to paint a scarlet letter on my chest.
I figured, for the sake of my children, that I had to change the nature of my eyes.
It isn't quite as thrilling, but I still have startling interactions with strangers. Usually women. And they love me for two seconds like I am rarely able to feel loved anywhere else.
I miss the way my sexuality was permeating my street life. But I'd never have found this nature of love any other way.
It's true. Nurture is just as powerful as nature sometimes.
It's one of the reasons I was uncomfortable as a young woman with certain qualities I associate positively with submissiveness now. We were the daughters of the first feminists, and to let a man make decisions that might affect you was the mark of the oppressed.
It wasn't the mark of the oppressed in my house, it was just the obvious path to insanity. Making decisions for oneself was an act of revolution, period. This would include owning any kind of private boundaries whether I wound up me, or wired for a sexuality like yours, when everything is up for scrutiny, you leave and amaze yourself that you can even decide something without consultation and committee.
Wow. I'm curious about those fantasies. . . With my slave glasses on, I am able to look back on difficult times with a certain fondness, but I don't look forward to them.
I have a lot of pride.
In fact, since I became slave, I have better self-esteem and take much more pride in myself. Mostly because behaviors that made me ashamed of myself (i.e. submissiveness in a culture of feminism) were re-framed into positive qualities. Or, perhaps more accurately, because I was able to see, and especially develop, the positive aspects of behaviors that I had only perceived negatively.
I would think, rida, that those trips with the Sadist are even more precarious and intense because of the uncertainty and temporary nature of the relationship. Take care of yourself. No shame in throwing in the towel, if it comes to that. You owe your children a sound and healthy mother.
And if it doesn't come to that, please, please tell us about your internal journeys. Illuminating some of that hidden psychic space can be really helpful to your fellow travelers.
Sorry to bring the subject back
I never look back at the hard time but I often imagine what if of the worst possible future scenarios.
I never imagine futures of happy endings, but I often look back at the good times.
Hubby says that "I always look at the dark side of life". My answer is that "having looked at it and seen the consequences I can be prepared". And since reality is never as bad as I can picture it, the other consequence is that everything is always better than expected and as such it cannot let me down. Afterall, if you put your zero line at -100, everything ends up on the plus side.
(Did I write it already somewhere else? I'm having a deja vu ...)
Now for the content of my mental "fantasy land", I have to say I'm stuck on the abandonment/never good enough theme Perhaps that is why I can write easily about the end of relationships from the side of the broken up with one.
(and the curious thing is that in real-life, I've never been broken up with ... so far.)
I've just been accused of having too much pride in being a slave, in taking too much pride in submitting ...
I struggled more with accepting my sexual freedom (the ability to enjoy sport fucks without love or a relationship) after being a wife/mother than I ever had with being submissive.
The last encounters with the sadist, with the uncertainty, the confusion, the intensity, the borderline madness have helped me finally put in words what it is that makes me accept pain and hurt to extremes that are not compatible with the fact I'm not a masochist: I always knew that I live to please the men I love. The harder to please, the more they demand, the more I'm willing to give them.
But what I was finally able to put in words is that there is a caveat to it all: I have to feel cherished and appreciated, I have to feel that it matters and that they care. When it come to give them my physical and emotional suffering, I have to know and feel that they love me.
I need that to be able to function in this world as a productive wife and mother.
When the future was uncertain, with the end date almost clearly in view, I managed to make peace with not having those needs met and take my chance with a last crazy encounter before his departure.
But things got thrown head over heel. It is now clear he will be staying (at least for the time being). It is now clear that if I want to continue seeing him, I need to have those needs met.
So it means it was clear I needed to talk with him. A serious "relationship talk" kind of talk. The kind of talk I'm utterly horrible at, even without having my brain mushed up by his Dominance and my submissiveness.
The past track records showed that the only time I've been able to have meaningful conversations with the sadist has been after he got his needs met. The catch was that this time I needed to have the conversation to be able to meet his needs.
I tried to express my need, it came out as a whiny demands.
I tried to hold my ground, it came out as defiance.
I tried to please him, it utterly confused the whole situation.
My words were not going through. But reality is, my words were not coming out.
He gave me one chance, two chances, three chances. I blew them, I babbled and sent mixed signals and he took matters in his hands, interpreting the situation in the only way it made any sense to him.
It had to come to blown out madness for the wall of misunderstanding to start cracking, my brain to un-mush and and words finally going through between us.
Perhaps at the end we tried to salvage something that is not meant to be. Perhaps his view of slavery is just too extreme for an outside married wife with children to handle, even if on a very part time basis.
Was a bruised up face too high of a price? Only time will tell.
[On the jungle] Kinski always says it's full of erotic elements. I don't see it so much erotic. I see it more full of obscenity. It's just - Nature here is vile and base. I wouldn't see anything erotical here. I would see fornication and asphyxiation and choking and fighting for survival and... growing and... just rotting away. Of course, there's a lot of misery. But it is the same misery that is all around us. The trees here are in misery, and the birds are in misery. I don't think they - they sing. They just screech in pain. It's an unfinished country. It's still prehistorical. The only thing that is lacking is - is the dinosaurs here. It's like a curse weighing on an entire landscape. And whoever... goes too deep into this has his share of this curse. So we are cursed with what we are doing here. It's a land that God, if he exists has - has created in anger. It's the only land where - where creation is unfinished yet. Taking a close look at - at what's around us there - there is some sort of a harmony. It is the harmony of... overwhelming and collective murder. And we in comparison to the articulate vileness and baseness and obscenity of all this jungle - Uh, we in comparison to that enormous articulation - we only sound and look like badly pronounced and half-finished sentences out of a stupid suburban... novel... a cheap novel. We have to become humble in front of this overwhelming misery and overwhelming fornication... overwhelming growth and overwhelming lack of order. Even the - the stars up here in the - in the sky look like a mess. There is no harmony in the universe. We have to get acquainted to this idea that there is no real harmony as we have conceived it. But when I say this, I say this all full of admiration for the jungle. It is not that I hate it, I love it. I love it very much. But I love it against my better judgment.
From Werner Herzog
[On the jungle] Kinski always says it's full of erotic elements. I don't see it so much erotic. I see it more full of obscenity. It's just - Nature here is vile and base. I wouldn't see anything erotical here. I would see fornication and asphyxiation and choking and fighting for survival and... growing and... just rotting away. Of course, there's a lot of misery. But it is the same misery that is all around us. The trees here are in misery, and the birds are in misery. I don't think they - they sing. They just screech in pain. It's an unfinished country. It's still prehistorical. The only thing that is lacking is - is the dinosaurs here. It's like a curse weighing on an entire landscape. And whoever... goes too deep into this has his share of this curse. So we are cursed with what we are doing here. It's a land that God, if he exists has - has created in anger. It's the only land where - where creation is unfinished yet. Taking a close look at - at what's around us there - there is some sort of a harmony. It is the harmony of... overwhelming and collective murder. And we in comparison to the articulate vileness and baseness and obscenity of all this jungle Uh, we in comparison to that enormous articulation - we only sound and look like badly pronounced and half-finished sentences out of a stupid suburban... novel... a cheap novel. We have to become humble in front of this overwhelming misery and overwhelming fornication... overwhelming growth and overwhelming lack of order. Even the - the stars up here in the - in the sky look like a mess. There is no harmony in the universe. We have to get acquainted to this idea that there is no real harmony as we have conceived it. But when I say this, I say this all full of admiration for the jungle. It is not that I hate it, I love it. I love it very much. But I love it against my better judgment.
I've just been accused of having too much pride in being a slave, in taking too much pride in submitting ...
The last encounters with the sadist, with the uncertainty, the confusion, the intensity, the borderline madness have helped me finally put in words what it is that makes me accept pain and hurt to extremes that are not compatible with the fact I'm not a masochist: I always knew that I live to please the men I love. The harder to please, the more they demand, the more I'm willing to give them.
But what I was finally able to put in words is that there is a caveat to it all: I have to feel cherished and appreciated, I have to feel that it matters and that they care. When it come to give them my physical and emotional suffering, I have to know and feel that they love me.
I need that to be able to function in this world as a productive wife and mother.
When the future was uncertain, with the end date almost clearly in view, I managed to make peace with not having those needs met and take my chance with a last crazy encounter before his departure.
But things got thrown head over heel. It is now clear he will be staying (at least for the time being). It is now clear that if I want to continue seeing him, I need to have those needs met.
So it means it was clear I needed to talk with him. A serious "relationship talk" kind of talk. The kind of talk I'm utterly horrible at, even without having my brain mushed up by his Dominance and my submissiveness.
The past track records showed that the only time I've been able to have meaningful conversations with the sadist has been after he got his needs met. The catch was that this time I needed to have the conversation to be able to meet his needs.
I tried to express my need, it came out as a whiny demands.
I tried to hold my ground, it came out as defiance.
I tried to please him, it utterly confused the whole situation.
My words were not going through. But reality is, my words were not coming out.
He gave me one chance, two chances, three chances. I blew them, I babbled and sent mixed signals and he took matters in his hands, interpreting the situation in the only way it made any sense to him.
It had to come to blown out madness for the wall of misunderstanding to start cracking, my brain to un-mush and and words finally going through between us.
Perhaps at the end we tried to salvage something that is not meant to be. Perhaps his view of slavery is just too extreme for an outside married wife with children to handle, even if on a very part time basis.
Was a bruised up face too high of a price? Only time will tell.
It wasn't the mark of the oppressed in my house, it was just the obvious path to insanity. Making decisions for oneself was an act of revolution, period. This would include owning any kind of private boundaries whether I wound up me, or wired for a sexuality like yours, when everything is up for scrutiny, you leave and amaze yourself that you can even decide something without consultation and committee.
We can definitely spot it with our subdar. Only takes a couple minutes of interaction, sometimes not even that.
There was one instance that stands out when I know that a woman was submissive. It was a bit freaky and clinical in how she presented her symptoms. Every other sentence ended in a tag question. I had just met her but, likely because she took me for a putative authority, she was desperate in her need to be acknowledged as worthy of my time and attention. Later on, I learned that her husband physically and verbally abused her, which explained her pancaked makeup, and yet that is exactly the kind of relationship that she likely felt most comfortable in.
In other more pleasant contexts, it is, indeed, the interaction that tips the hat of a sub for me. Do I independently detect her nature or does she signal to me after recognzing something that attracts her in my words or gestures. Submission does not require permission nor acquiesence, yet domination implies some sort of acknowledgement. So does this mean that it is easier for a sub to transmit her nature or that I simply prefer encountering a sub who demonstrates her submissiveness to me?
I wonder how often dominance is a consensual relationship. And how often it is en-forced, subtly or not so subtly. By physical force. By cultural expectations. By economic realities. etc.
We raise our children to recognize status relationships and power exchanges in our family structures, our schools, our workplaces, and our relationships.
How much are we responding to the animals that we are? And how much are we responding to the cultural norms and structures?
We can definitely spot it with our subdar. Only takes a couple minutes of interaction, sometimes not even that.
From Werner Herzog
It is not that I hate it, I love it. I love it very much. But I love it against my better judgment.
I am the same, rida.
And it doesn't even have to look like "love" in other peoples' eyes. I just have to know, deep in my bones, that I am loved by the person who is using me.
And, if you're able to love yourself, it isn't difficult to know when you are not loved by someone else.
*snip*
What do you think? I know a lot of people think a bruised face is too high a price. But I know a lot of people with bruised faces, too. What do you think? Has time given you any answers?
After 3 years I am thrilled to find this thread going strong and beautiful as ever.
ES, you are one of the kind
I am not a frequent poster or very old to this site but dominance for me can be a huge consensual relationship . I have trouble explaining the following so I hope you get what i mean .
it is my job not only to make my sub know and feel that she fulfills my needs, desires and demands but it is my job to be her Master whenever and how ever she wants me to whether its her love of degradation or bondage.For me Dominance is enforced by both aspects
In any family house hold all children , pets and individuals know the status and power exchanges but it does not have to restrict the animals that we are .
I'm afraid I'm not fully understanding you. When you say "dominance can be a huge consensual relationship," who is consenting? The dominant? Consenting to the submissive's desires?
When you say, "dominance is enforced by both aspects," do you mean that your dominance in the relationship is reinforced by the fact that a) your sub knows that she is fulfilling your needs and desires and b) you know that you are fulfilling hers? Are you saying that your dominant position will be more secure if everyone's needs are being met?
And . . . what do you mean when you say "it does not have to restrict the animals that we are?" Are you implying that we can still be dominant animals in a culturally submissive position? Or are you saying something altogether different?
I'm not questioning your statements themselves, I'm just not sure that I'm understanding you correctly.
His current fantasy runs something like this . . .
An attractive older woman blackmails a homely younger woman, her employee perhaps?, into having unwanted sex with her, sex that starts out simply nonconsensual and then gradually gets more sadistic and extreme.
I ask myself, to what degree will I end up living it. . .
A couple years ago I discovered by chance that I had been living one of his fantasies for some time, firmly convinced that it was mine. In retrospect, I could see the slow and patient methods he had used to gradually embed it in my behavior.
So. Today. Knowing the fantasy to be his. Recognizing its "alien" quality. Will I still find myself living it in years to come as though it were my own? Or, if it ever comes to pass, will it simply be a matter of "do it because I said so"?
He far prefers the first.
Reminds me of Inception.
Did it have a happy ending?
I'm kind of curious why you chose the word "symptoms" to describe the woman's submissive behavior. It makes me think the behavior was unhealthy, and I think that was your intention in the first case. What's the difference between one woman's symptoms and another one's desirability?
I'm also intrigued by your musings on submission, dominance and the need for some form of consent or acknowledgement. That a submissive may submit without permission; but that a dominant needs the consent of the dominated. (At least, that's how I'm understanding you. . . )
I wonder how often dominance is a consensual relationship. And how often it is en-forced, subtly or not so subtly. By physical force. By cultural expectations. By economic realities. etc.
We raise our children to recognize status relationships and power exchanges in our family structures, our schools, our workplaces, and our relationships.
How much are we responding to the animals that we are? And how much are we responding to the cultural norms and structures?