the marks of a slave

ecstaticsub said:

I don't think I have seen one but I think it is a great idea for a thread. I fight with that conflict every day.

Speaking of which since I spent all morning talking to Daddy I am late getting myself ready for work..time to get going.

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Yep, me too, or at least struggle to balance it all.

intothewoods said:

Yep, me too, or at least struggle to balance it all.

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Me three. Please start the thread eastern sun

ecstaticsub said:

I don't think I have seen one but I think it is a great idea for a thread. I fight with that conflict every day.

Speaking of which since I spent all morning talking to Daddy I am late getting myself ready for work..time to get going.

Click to expand...

intothewoods said:

Yep, me too, or at least struggle to balance it all.

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HottieMama said:

Me three. Please start the thread eastern sun

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eastern sun said:

My husband's response to comments on this and the "selling slaves" thread was to ask . . .

"are there ever discussions of how life's obligations and responsibilities hamper the full and free expression of anyone's sexuality?"

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Me four...

We ran into an interesting problem this afternoon, trying to start that thread . . .

He sat down to write an opening, and wrote about an experience of mine that he did not witness as though I was narrating it.

He showed it to me, and I reacted strongly.

Though everything he said was true, I wouldn't have portrayed it "that way," "used those words," "communicated that thought."

I could not let him define my voice.

I hurt his feelings, cause my criticism was harsh. And I'm genuinely sorry.

I'll try to write about the experience later.

I guess this slave just isn't willing to give everything away.

this is what he wrote:

"Do you pine for your deepest, darkest fantasies? Do you thrill at the dizzying heights from just the thoughts of your most soaring ecstasies?

Do you make them happen? What gets you started? What hurls you into action?

Or

What stops you?

About a year ago, I lied to my husband and met a biker at a hotel in Jersey.

We had coffee in the restaurant. I was wet and hot before the first sip.

We flirted over the formica table for an hour.

We stood. He kissed me on the cheek. I went to pick my kids up from summer camp...and we never saw each other again (the biker, not the kids-- I see them every day).

That biker would have been the best fuck I ever had. I know that. After 17 years of marriage, I started fucking other men about 3 years ago. They taught me how to cum in ways I had never known before. Perhaps, they taught me how to cum, and what it means to cum, period.

But, in his leather jacket with a neatly trimmed beard and calloused hands, Pete was the sexiest man I ever met. He would have fucked me into a screaming chaos I can't even imagine.

But I didn't do it. He got me started enough to lie to my husband and sneak over the state line. But then, fear made me stop. Fear of Pete, fear of taking a marital lie too far, fear of my eros finding a home too far away from home...I guess.

And something stopped him too. A simple invitation would have gotten me into a hotel room that afternoon.

And then there are the questions of where my desires and inhibitions grow from. My husband thinks he knows. I doubt it. But maybe I'll figure it out on this thread.

P.S. I asked my husband what got him started and stopped. All he could come up with is, "I haven't met Joan Jett yet."

What a pussy."

"It's the fact that you don't trust me that makes your task Sisyphean," he said as we lay next to each other in bed.

And, for just a moment, I let go and caught a flashing glimpse of the view from the top of that mountain, as the boulder rolled back behind me.

and here's my version -

I had a crush on this kid in third grade. He really did pull my hair, throw things at me, and call me names. And I loved him.

When I was twenty, I ran into him again. He'd dropped out of high school, found work in construction and rode a vintage Harley. I still loved him.

He asked me to marry him a couple of years later, after nursing me through a year of chaos as I struggled to finish college amidst the throes of a serious drug habit.

I said, "no." I was ambitious. I wanted to go to New York City.

All I could imagine with him was sex and drugs. Rides through the Northern California hills. And babies. (They would have been beautiful.)

Fast forward - twenty some odd years. I'm my husband's slave. I live in New York City. And I fall for the laughter of a guy from New Jersey. He also rides a Harley. And reminds me of my childhood friend.

My husband thinks he's dangerous, and forbids me from meeting him. I spend the afternoons on the phone with him, spinning fantasies about the way we'll tie up my husband and fuck in front of him. He writes me poetry. I am enthralled.

I lie. While my kids are in summer camp, I drive alone to New Jersey. I am nervous, but thrilled. And I meet this guy in a diner with red and white oilcloths on the tables. To say we liked each other is an understatement. The chemical reactions taking place were intoxicating. It was the glasses he wore to read the menu that clinched it for me. And the fire tattooed on his arms.

But we left having barely touched each other. And, though he called me on the drive home to make sure I was ok, we didn't talk again until a couple of months later, when my phone rang while I was cooking dinner for my kids, and it's him. He wants me to assure his new girlfriend that he actually wrote the poetry he was quoting her. She gets on the phone, and I say, "yeah, he wrote it." "Wow," she says. "Yup. It's beautiful, isn't it?" "Yeah." He gets back on the phone, thanks me and laughs. My heart breaks just a little, because his laughter is so contagious.

Why wasn't I that girl?

Why didn't I marry my childhood friend?

I am as happy to have had the experience of sitting across that table as I have been to be play partner to others. But what stopped us from going further?

Maybe it was better left a fantasy?

What was the fallout with your husband?

intothewoods said:

Maybe it was better left a fantasy?

What was the fallout with your husband?

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Maybe. Especially at that point in our lives. With the kids. He was too strong a draw. I wasn't sure that I would return to my home.

There were other factors too. He brought a friend with him to our meeting, who joined us after about half an hour. I didn't like his friend, and didn't feel as safe or comfortable with him around.

He was also afraid of me. The main reason nothing happened that day is because I told him I was waiting on an STD test, and couldn't assure him that I was disease-free. Especially when his friend showed up unexpectedly, I was glad that was a deal-breaker for him.

What's funny is knowing there's this person out there who I can feel things for that have nothing in common with my everyday world. The feelings I mean.

My husband was surprised, but it also turned him on. He has cuckolding fantasies, and I began sleeping with other men when I became his slave. (Initially, I didn't want to play with other people. That was how I ended relationships before I got married, and I didn't fully trust myself.) Though he was shocked that I'd done something he'd forbidden, he was also breathless. It was the kind of experience he was looking for.

Part of my identification as a "slave" is the unwillingness that is implied and the search for escape from a situation in which the possibility of escape is so slim.

He responded by putting severe restrictions on me, which turned me on. And by weaving the idea that "there is something out there that I want more than him . . . that if I follow his lead, I'll get it . . . but I'll always belong to him" into the structure of our relationship.

I do have fantasies, like being sold to a Russian slave trader, or being gang-raped by soldiers, or kidnapped as a kid, or mutilated, or killed, that should be left fantasies. I really have no desire to act on them. And I react with tremendous compassion and horror when I hear the stories of the women who have experienced such ordeals. And I feel guilty that I felt any kind of sexual arousal around their circumstances.

Other fantasies, once they become known, slowly begin to materialize. I was amazed once to discover that having devoted some energy to my fantasies and written four or five detailed stories, the characters in those stories all appeared in my life within the next couple of years (the guy from New Jersey was one of them).

Then it was up to me what to do.

That's the part of life that I love.

And why it's very important to be careful what you ask for.

"are there ever discussions of how life's obligations and responsibilities hamper the full and free expression of anyone's sexuality?"

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Yes there are, but they usually don't go far because this is an accepted reality in all of our lives, no matter what the lifestyle. Is that not true? EDIT: however if it is an Eastern Sun thread it usually will go far....heh

Adakgirl said:

EDIT: however if it is an Eastern Sun thread it usually will go far....heh

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Only because I have the audacity to keep it alive long past its natural lifespan.

Lmao hahhaaaha! and that's just one of the many reasons we love you!

"Just put your oppositional nature on the shelf," he said.

"That's gonna be hard," I said.

"I know."

"I'm not meaning to be oppositional."

"I didn't think it was oppositional, just true."

(What a weird conversation. What a weird word to have rattling off the tongue.)

"I was working to be less oppositional," I say trying to defend myself, "but then I needed to be with the school."

"Yes, it may have been practical last spring."

I'm relieved that he sees that.

"Ok." And I shake his hand, "I'll be less oppositional."

We stare at each other, smiling. Now what?

"So . . . Twilight was a good movie," he says grinning, knowing that I don't agree.

eastern sun said:

"So . . . Twilight was a good movie," he says grinning, knowing that I don't agree.

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Twilight? That's just mean, dirty, and low-down.

Obviously, I approve of the tactic.

eastern sun said:

"Just put your oppositional nature on the shelf," he said.

"That's gonna be hard," I said.

"I know."

"I'm not meaning to be oppositional."

"I didn't think it was oppositional, just true."

*snip*

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The psychotherapist I saw for few months in my 20s basically told me that my only problem was "being oppositional".

My standard asnwer to almost everything is "yes, but ..." or "It depends ...". And my first reaction to anything is to try to resist in a passive way.

Makes for a lot of head butting with my PYL(s).
Hubby's questions is "who is in charge here?", and the Sadist is "are you resisting me?"

It is interesting thou how the reaction that follows is different in the two cases.
With Hubby there is still fight left in me when I capitulate, he likes the sparring against my will, he likes to push until my will is exhausted and defeated, using as little physical tools as possible.
With the Sadist, where I know that resistance not only is futile but it will bring me worse pain than what I'm resisting, I scramble to be compliant as fast as possible. I know we have not gotten to the core of my resistance yet. And I wonder what will happen when we hit it.

eastern sun said:

Why wasn't I that girl?

Why didn't I marry my childhood friend?

I am as happy to have had the experience of sitting across that table as I have been to be play partner to others. But what stopped us from going further?

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I have a dear friend. I've met him 20 years ago. The following year I developed a huge crush on him and we kind of got together (he is 5 years younger then me, that made him too young at the time). And somewhere, somehow I knew that this life, we were not meant to be. Not yet, if ever.

He came down to see me, hitchhiking all the way south from his home country. And I was so happy I could barely think straight. We spent a couple of wonderful days at my college place in a totally chaste bliss. Gosh I wanted him, but at the same time I did not want to ruin anything.

We kept in touch, here and there and went on with our lives, running briefly into each other at friends a couple of times.

Some 12 years later, I was already married and a mother, I got a chance to go visit him with other friends at his place. I had made up my mind that if chances would have made us be alone, I would have tried to have sex with him. But it was not meant to be, as my flight was canceled and the whole week-end with it.

The last time I saw him, he was here on a business trip. We got together with Hubby one night, and I was so happy to see him and talk with him and catch up. I was also supposed to see him once alone, but work got in the way, so we just shared a coffee and a lunch.

Each time I was dieing to be with him. Each time I did nothing inappropriate.
It would have not been right. It was not the right time.

That is what stopped me from going forward.

We are still in touch. He got married last year and invited me, but it was just not feasible.
There are still at least 40 years for something to happen. If it is meant to be.

rida said:

The psychotherapist I saw for few months in my 20s basically told me that my only problem was "being oppositional".

My standard asnwer to almost everything is "yes, but ..." or "It depends ...". And my first reaction to anything is to try to resist in a passive way.

Makes for a lot of head butting with my PYL(s).
Hubby's questions is "who is in charge here?", and the Sadist is "are you resisting me?"

It is interesting thou how the reaction that follows is different in the two cases.
With Hubby there is still fight left in me when I capitulate, he likes the sparring against my will, he likes to push until my will is exhausted and defeated, using as little physical tools as possible.
With the Sadist, where I know that resistance not only is futile but it will bring me worse pain than what I'm resisting, I scramble to be compliant as fast as possible. I know we have not gotten to the core of my resistance yet. And I wonder what will happen when we hit it.

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There is only one man I've met with whom I showed zero resistance. It was very fluid, incredibly liberating, and a total surprise because he was not the kind of guy I usually pick. My husband told me to meet him.

He did not deal in pain, just dominance. I met him regularly, and enjoyed it immensely.

I usually pick pain-dealers.

I just want to say that there are a handful of women here whom I adore to read. I just want to say thank you Eastern Sun I enjoy reading your inner most thoughts and your life..

eastern sun said:

There is only one man I've met with whom I showed zero resistance. It was very fluid, incredibly liberating, and a total surprise because he was not the kind of guy I usually pick. My husband told me to meet him.

He did not deal in pain, just dominance. I met him regularly, and enjoyed it immensely.

I usually pick pain-dealers.

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This sounds similar to my relationship with Daddy. For the most part i am sexually non-resistant and he does not do pain. i can tell it really does pain him when i push the envelope to the degree he has to spank me. In a weird way it empowers me. For the most part i am extremely compliant with Daddy. i generally do whatever is asked of me with enthusiasm and without fear of appearing "desperate". The fact is i often feel desperate and i am very much reassured that emotion is "allowed" in my relationship with Daddy.

my mind is wild and all over the map but with Daddy i feel perfectly safe to let my mind wander into its most dysfunctional without fear of judgment or reprisal. i don't want to live there, in that horrible dysfunctional place, but something about being allowed to just "be" whatever it is that i am is extremely intoxicating and therapeutic.

SubKekiLee said:

I just want to say that there are a handful of women here whom I adore to read.

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Thank you. I feel the same way.

ataxia.girl said:

something about being allowed to just "be" whatever it is that i am is extremely intoxicating and therapeutic.

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I can understand this. I'm fortunate to get that with my husband (though he too claims the right to just "be" whatever it is that he is ).

With this other guy, I didn't actually feel free to be myself. He wasn't at all interested in me, really, except as I related to his desires. And I only showed him behavior that he wanted to see.

But interestingly, because I never challenged him - and he had no interest in pain - I felt no need to defend myself, either physically or emotionally.

Resistance, for me, is a form of self-defense, and ironically, one that makes me more uncomfortable in both the short and the long run.

eastern sun said:

I do have fantasies, like being sold to a Russian slave trader, or being gang-raped by soldiers, or kidnapped as a kid, or mutilated, or killed, that should be left fantasies. I really have no desire to act on them. And I react with tremendous compassion and horror when I hear the stories of the women who have experienced such ordeals. And I feel guilty that I felt any kind of sexual arousal around their circumstances.

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First I want to say that I absolutlely LOVE this thread.

I too have had such fantasies...it seems like I would receive bookoos of pleasure enduring those scenarios.

But.....I do feel guilty about such fantasies when I see those horrors played out in the news.

LilTexanGal said:

First I want to say that I absolutlely LOVE this thread.

I too have had such fantasies...it seems like I would receive bookoos of pleasure enduring those scenarios.

But.....I do feel guilty about such fantasies when I see those horrors played out in the news.

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Thank you.

I'm not sure I imagine pleasure in those scenarios. I am just swept away by the absolute loss of control, the extreme threat, and the instinct to survive (or not) that must kick in.

eastern sun said:

Resistance, for me, is a form of self-defense, and ironically, one that makes me more uncomfortable in both the short and the long run.

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By saying this, I don't want to imply that resistance is necessarily a bad thing. I know that my habits of resistance have served an important role in different stages of my life.

It's just when the resistance becomes habituated it can be a problem. When my knee-jerk response to any situation is resistance because I want to be able to gain and exert some control over the state of my body and mind.

(You should have seen me the first time I gave birth. Try telling a baby in motion to "wait." By the second child, I just let myself scream.)