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Midori
Draft of essay.
This essay originally appeared in Spectator magazine (www.spectatormag.com) for my monthly column, Babylon Bound.
Copyright: Midori 2003
Working Title: In the Quixotic Search of a Slave
I am a romantic at heart. No, really, I mean it.
No, I'm not the "long walks on the beach" type of romantic. Nor am I the heart shaped box of chocolate kind of woman. I'd rather make you craw through the sand while I sit under a parasol or carve a bloody heart into your back. Actually, I'm the kind of romantic that wants you to hold that parasol on the beach over me for as long as I desire. I'm the kind of romantic that wants you to hand serve the box of chocolate on a silver plate as you present it to me on bended knee.
I'm that kind of a romantic.
Service has been on my mind lately. To be honest, it's been on my mind since I was a little one, in some way shape or form, but it's just been in the forefront of my thoughts lately. Service is a particular form of submission within the galaxy of personal erotic expression and relationships called SM and Leather. It holds a very special place in my heart - a very romantic place. So what's Service and what's so special about it? More importantly why do I spend so much of my time in search of the right Service for me? What's the turn-on for this Diva?
I'll admit, this may possibly a narcissistic pleasure that I pursue. Simply put, I wish to have in my keep a woman or a man who derives pleasure, satisfaction and sense of purpose from providing me with the best ministration to my needs as they know how. I would go as far as to say that I seek to own a person as a servant, a slave, bound to me by sense of duty and devotion. This is not slavery that comes from coercion by force or economic pressure. It is not the sort of slavery that men, women and children are forced into in the past and today as the result of political and economic imperialism or caste based oppression. The desire to serve should well up in the heart of the servant like an eternal fountain, whether it's there constantly or inspired by a key individual. They shall be motivated by a need to be useful. . . and I dream improbably that they really desire to put my needs above theirs.
Service in itself is the end, not the means to an end. This is an important distinction. Often people will offer service to the person that they desire, believing that it's the ticket to some other benefit. Maybe they want to have sex with the potential dominant. Maybe they want to have a more traditional dyad love relationship. Maybe they want to be supported financially with room and board in exchange for work. In each of these cases they use Service simply as a tool to get to another desired outcome in the relationship. In a sense they are using the outward appearance of service as a commodity to be traded for other goods or services. It's a quid pro quo. The motivation of the service provider, in these cases, is centered around the manipulation of the act of service and manipulation of the dominant with a goal in mind that is only indirectly related to that dominant. Frankly it would be much easier if they just came out and asked me if I wanted to have sex with them. It would be so much easier if the needs were clearly stated so that both people can balance their needs and desires with each other. Instead they use the act of service and get my hopes up that maybe, just maybe, they may be the 'one.'
Service is not a fantasy role-playing scene for me. I do not want to have a pretend game of having a French Maid tottering around my house and call it Service. French Maid scenes, or other similar domestic servant role play or slave fantasy scenes are fun for an erotic evening's entertainment. I have enjoyed boys and girls in that role as I play the Lady of the House. I even own several such costumes with heels and corsets, petticoats and dresses for just such occasion. French Maids of this sort are best bound up, bent over and thoroughly thrashed or sexually savaged. As they teeter on impossible high heels, delicately maneuver around in fragile stockings and worry about the sexual quality of the up-turn of their booty as they pour tea, they aren't much useful of anything other than precariously served tea and perverse fucking. The French Maid in such a situation is very rarely useful in actually taking care of my needs. They're not likely to schlep my luggage, wash my car, run errands, clean cat litter or be my bodyguard. I end up protecting them from unwanted attention of offending bystanders as they giggle girlishly. This could be fun for a few hours in an evening. It does not, however, help me in making my life easier when I'm dashing around enabling their helplessness.
(My apologies to the exceptional service maids such as Sissy for using the example of the French Maid in a way that may be perceived as derogatory. You, the dedicated service maids, are a rare and precious breed!)
Perhaps I seek the impossible. I want a person who is motivated by loyalty, devotion, honor and a selfless sense of usefulness. I seek a person who is happy to not be the center of my life, universe and all consuming attention but rather be a silently appreciated, integral part of my life. In an oversimplified model, my fantasy is that this person will be like my right arm. I do not think of my right arm at all times. It is a part of me and I know that it is there to serve my needs and desires as my extension. I do not need to pet my right arm so that it may work well. (Although my right arm may be used to pet me so I may feel good!) This is a form of objectification. I'm aware of this. This is the sort of fantasy from which the desire to own, be served and posses arises, but then it's modulated by reason and tempered by reality.
But everyone wants to be desired, right? So could I ever find a person who lives to serve like my arm? This improbability is what makes my pursuit of Service fundamentally romantic. Romance by classic definition isn't about love leading to marriage. It's "a narrative in verse or prose, written in a vernacular language in the Middle Ages, dealing with strange and exciting adventures of chivalrous heroes." It's about "idealized events remote from everyday life." It's a notion full of idealized relationships of purity, beauty, intensity and epic heroes. By definition it's extra-ordinary. It's an absurd, extravagant and delusional quest.
I know this. Yet I continue to search like Don Quixote. Instead of the monster disguised as windmills, I am searching for my very own Sancho Panza. I seek the Japanese warrior on devoted to the notion of bushido and loyal to his lord. The knight willing to sacrifice for this Lady must be out there. The Roman General, who swears allegiance to Cesar, served with the sort honor and strength that I idolize. If I feel this way, then perhaps a complimentary person is out there, matching my needs with his or her own life-long hunger. The root of my desire is not rational, reasonable or fair. The execution of this desire, however, must necessarily be ruled by my own honor and ethics if I'm to 'rule' another. In this notion, the potential for narcissism in seeking Service is negated.
How did I get this way?
Blame it on my mother and my grandmother. My grandfather, I was told, served my grandmother hand and foot. My mother, the professor, always had acolytes in the form of TAs, taking care of her, attending to her, focusing and sacrificing for her. My grandmother ruled with competence, confidence, a sense of entitlement and perhaps more than a touch of domineering demeanor. She was the drill sergeant and ruthless commander. My mother led her merry band with beauty and near naïve grace of an uber-intellectual. She was the master of her art whose students sought simply to learn by spending time with her and serving her. We were poor, yet somehow both the women in my life ended up with what is essentially Service submissives, devotees or functional servants. An odd situation, I realize. The model for the relationship was right there before my very own eyes, but the training to be a good owner or master was not available. So I turned to the next available model of Service, Dominance and submission. The military, both past and present: The Generals of Rome, the Samurai to the Emperor and the Army team-members to the Sergeant or Chief were my role models. (Lieutenants? Forget them! They're 'frag-able.') Here enters the notion of leadership responsibility, honor and ethics of the dominant into my previously unilateral fantasy of ownership. Here the romance of chivalry blooms.
In the end, I seek to form a mutually fulfilling operating unit of well-meshed desires and needs, where I will be served as I lead and teach while they will serve as they find strength and fulfillment.
Recently I was asked if a person's service to me turned me on or aroused me. The answer we easy. Sexually? No. But good service executed gracefully with a sense of pride and peace feeds me with a surge of strength. It makes me happy. It is not sexual, it is something other than sexual, but profoundly fulfilling. I can understand that the erotic component would be the primary driver for Service if the end goal was some sort of sexual fulfillment within a scene. But a relationship's longevity can't be based upon the moment to moment rush of sexual gratification. I'm looking for a unique relationship with staying power.
For that matter, sexual contact in a Service relationship with me is not automatic. It usually isn't even a consideration for me. If I choose to have that with a Service person, so be it. But a demand or assumption for sexual access is sure to be received with decided drop in the room temperature around me and a door closed on their ass.
It is the romantic notion of an idealized power exchange that I seek. So I roam upon my steed across the oft barren landscape of pervs and dunes of freaks in search for the one that's right for me, the one who bears the mark in their heart "in service to Midori."
In Leather Pride
Midori
If you want to catch the last installment or the archives of eNewletters, read some articles I've written or check my travel schedule, just drop by the Fire Horse Productions, Inc site at http://srv.ezinedirector.net/?n=352732&s=11571031
If you have any questions, comments, feedback, or you just want to meet other like-minded people around the globe (ok, so mainly people who've been to my classes but they do range from Denmark to Australia) join the discussion at my yahoo group called DivaMidori ( it is Adult Access only) the URL is: http://srv.ezinedirector.net/?n=352733&s=11571031
Don't forget to check out some of the new images at my bondage art site BeautyBound.com http://srv.ezinedirector.net/?n=352734&s=11571031
In Leather Pride
Midori
Update Member Info:
http://ezinedirector.com/subscriber/member_profile/?skid=11571031
P.S. I have tried to include every link possible and I hope this is okay to copy and paste for thought and discussion!!
Draft of essay.
This essay originally appeared in Spectator magazine (www.spectatormag.com) for my monthly column, Babylon Bound.
Copyright: Midori 2003
Working Title: In the Quixotic Search of a Slave
I am a romantic at heart. No, really, I mean it.
No, I'm not the "long walks on the beach" type of romantic. Nor am I the heart shaped box of chocolate kind of woman. I'd rather make you craw through the sand while I sit under a parasol or carve a bloody heart into your back. Actually, I'm the kind of romantic that wants you to hold that parasol on the beach over me for as long as I desire. I'm the kind of romantic that wants you to hand serve the box of chocolate on a silver plate as you present it to me on bended knee.
I'm that kind of a romantic.
Service has been on my mind lately. To be honest, it's been on my mind since I was a little one, in some way shape or form, but it's just been in the forefront of my thoughts lately. Service is a particular form of submission within the galaxy of personal erotic expression and relationships called SM and Leather. It holds a very special place in my heart - a very romantic place. So what's Service and what's so special about it? More importantly why do I spend so much of my time in search of the right Service for me? What's the turn-on for this Diva?
I'll admit, this may possibly a narcissistic pleasure that I pursue. Simply put, I wish to have in my keep a woman or a man who derives pleasure, satisfaction and sense of purpose from providing me with the best ministration to my needs as they know how. I would go as far as to say that I seek to own a person as a servant, a slave, bound to me by sense of duty and devotion. This is not slavery that comes from coercion by force or economic pressure. It is not the sort of slavery that men, women and children are forced into in the past and today as the result of political and economic imperialism or caste based oppression. The desire to serve should well up in the heart of the servant like an eternal fountain, whether it's there constantly or inspired by a key individual. They shall be motivated by a need to be useful. . . and I dream improbably that they really desire to put my needs above theirs.
Service in itself is the end, not the means to an end. This is an important distinction. Often people will offer service to the person that they desire, believing that it's the ticket to some other benefit. Maybe they want to have sex with the potential dominant. Maybe they want to have a more traditional dyad love relationship. Maybe they want to be supported financially with room and board in exchange for work. In each of these cases they use Service simply as a tool to get to another desired outcome in the relationship. In a sense they are using the outward appearance of service as a commodity to be traded for other goods or services. It's a quid pro quo. The motivation of the service provider, in these cases, is centered around the manipulation of the act of service and manipulation of the dominant with a goal in mind that is only indirectly related to that dominant. Frankly it would be much easier if they just came out and asked me if I wanted to have sex with them. It would be so much easier if the needs were clearly stated so that both people can balance their needs and desires with each other. Instead they use the act of service and get my hopes up that maybe, just maybe, they may be the 'one.'
Service is not a fantasy role-playing scene for me. I do not want to have a pretend game of having a French Maid tottering around my house and call it Service. French Maid scenes, or other similar domestic servant role play or slave fantasy scenes are fun for an erotic evening's entertainment. I have enjoyed boys and girls in that role as I play the Lady of the House. I even own several such costumes with heels and corsets, petticoats and dresses for just such occasion. French Maids of this sort are best bound up, bent over and thoroughly thrashed or sexually savaged. As they teeter on impossible high heels, delicately maneuver around in fragile stockings and worry about the sexual quality of the up-turn of their booty as they pour tea, they aren't much useful of anything other than precariously served tea and perverse fucking. The French Maid in such a situation is very rarely useful in actually taking care of my needs. They're not likely to schlep my luggage, wash my car, run errands, clean cat litter or be my bodyguard. I end up protecting them from unwanted attention of offending bystanders as they giggle girlishly. This could be fun for a few hours in an evening. It does not, however, help me in making my life easier when I'm dashing around enabling their helplessness.
(My apologies to the exceptional service maids such as Sissy for using the example of the French Maid in a way that may be perceived as derogatory. You, the dedicated service maids, are a rare and precious breed!)
Perhaps I seek the impossible. I want a person who is motivated by loyalty, devotion, honor and a selfless sense of usefulness. I seek a person who is happy to not be the center of my life, universe and all consuming attention but rather be a silently appreciated, integral part of my life. In an oversimplified model, my fantasy is that this person will be like my right arm. I do not think of my right arm at all times. It is a part of me and I know that it is there to serve my needs and desires as my extension. I do not need to pet my right arm so that it may work well. (Although my right arm may be used to pet me so I may feel good!) This is a form of objectification. I'm aware of this. This is the sort of fantasy from which the desire to own, be served and posses arises, but then it's modulated by reason and tempered by reality.
But everyone wants to be desired, right? So could I ever find a person who lives to serve like my arm? This improbability is what makes my pursuit of Service fundamentally romantic. Romance by classic definition isn't about love leading to marriage. It's "a narrative in verse or prose, written in a vernacular language in the Middle Ages, dealing with strange and exciting adventures of chivalrous heroes." It's about "idealized events remote from everyday life." It's a notion full of idealized relationships of purity, beauty, intensity and epic heroes. By definition it's extra-ordinary. It's an absurd, extravagant and delusional quest.
I know this. Yet I continue to search like Don Quixote. Instead of the monster disguised as windmills, I am searching for my very own Sancho Panza. I seek the Japanese warrior on devoted to the notion of bushido and loyal to his lord. The knight willing to sacrifice for this Lady must be out there. The Roman General, who swears allegiance to Cesar, served with the sort honor and strength that I idolize. If I feel this way, then perhaps a complimentary person is out there, matching my needs with his or her own life-long hunger. The root of my desire is not rational, reasonable or fair. The execution of this desire, however, must necessarily be ruled by my own honor and ethics if I'm to 'rule' another. In this notion, the potential for narcissism in seeking Service is negated.
How did I get this way?
Blame it on my mother and my grandmother. My grandfather, I was told, served my grandmother hand and foot. My mother, the professor, always had acolytes in the form of TAs, taking care of her, attending to her, focusing and sacrificing for her. My grandmother ruled with competence, confidence, a sense of entitlement and perhaps more than a touch of domineering demeanor. She was the drill sergeant and ruthless commander. My mother led her merry band with beauty and near naïve grace of an uber-intellectual. She was the master of her art whose students sought simply to learn by spending time with her and serving her. We were poor, yet somehow both the women in my life ended up with what is essentially Service submissives, devotees or functional servants. An odd situation, I realize. The model for the relationship was right there before my very own eyes, but the training to be a good owner or master was not available. So I turned to the next available model of Service, Dominance and submission. The military, both past and present: The Generals of Rome, the Samurai to the Emperor and the Army team-members to the Sergeant or Chief were my role models. (Lieutenants? Forget them! They're 'frag-able.') Here enters the notion of leadership responsibility, honor and ethics of the dominant into my previously unilateral fantasy of ownership. Here the romance of chivalry blooms.
In the end, I seek to form a mutually fulfilling operating unit of well-meshed desires and needs, where I will be served as I lead and teach while they will serve as they find strength and fulfillment.
Recently I was asked if a person's service to me turned me on or aroused me. The answer we easy. Sexually? No. But good service executed gracefully with a sense of pride and peace feeds me with a surge of strength. It makes me happy. It is not sexual, it is something other than sexual, but profoundly fulfilling. I can understand that the erotic component would be the primary driver for Service if the end goal was some sort of sexual fulfillment within a scene. But a relationship's longevity can't be based upon the moment to moment rush of sexual gratification. I'm looking for a unique relationship with staying power.
For that matter, sexual contact in a Service relationship with me is not automatic. It usually isn't even a consideration for me. If I choose to have that with a Service person, so be it. But a demand or assumption for sexual access is sure to be received with decided drop in the room temperature around me and a door closed on their ass.
It is the romantic notion of an idealized power exchange that I seek. So I roam upon my steed across the oft barren landscape of pervs and dunes of freaks in search for the one that's right for me, the one who bears the mark in their heart "in service to Midori."
In Leather Pride
Midori
If you want to catch the last installment or the archives of eNewletters, read some articles I've written or check my travel schedule, just drop by the Fire Horse Productions, Inc site at http://srv.ezinedirector.net/?n=352732&s=11571031
If you have any questions, comments, feedback, or you just want to meet other like-minded people around the globe (ok, so mainly people who've been to my classes but they do range from Denmark to Australia) join the discussion at my yahoo group called DivaMidori ( it is Adult Access only) the URL is: http://srv.ezinedirector.net/?n=352733&s=11571031
Don't forget to check out some of the new images at my bondage art site BeautyBound.com http://srv.ezinedirector.net/?n=352734&s=11571031
In Leather Pride
Midori
Update Member Info:
http://ezinedirector.com/subscriber/member_profile/?skid=11571031
P.S. I have tried to include every link possible and I hope this is okay to copy and paste for thought and discussion!!
