Now I’m seeking a new map, one that will help me navigate the confusing path to my inner slut where I become the object of the other person’s desire that takes me to amazing sexual heights.
Someone said today that the only dungeon I need is one created in my mind… I agree. I drift into arousal and in that state I seek images and ideas that will help me express my feelings….. it isn’t shackles or chains, I look at the elaborate arrangements where ropes deform breasts and penetrate labia and they frighten me.. they represent a form of punishment that has nothing to do with pleasure, a cruelty divorced from tenderness.
But then I think about what really frightens… and therein maybe lies the key….. to me torture is silence, punishment is disapproval.. so instead of seeing myself suspended by ropes, or encased in rubber… I see a woman with her head lowered almost to the level of the other person’s foot…. I’m entreating that person….I’m begging for their approval.
The desperate thing…. and yes, it is a feeling of desperation…… the desperate thing is I cannot tell them….. I have to wait…. Until they notice me, until they say what they want, until they tell me what to beg for….. to please them…..
The other thing someone pointed out is that for me being a whore is a state of mind…..so the challenge is not to imprison me but release the whore….
I sense the answer to both puzzles….. being able to communicate what switches on my submissiveness and unleashes the whore lies in the other person….I have to wait to be noticed… the silence is the torture that brings me to the point of desperation; I will beg for anything to avoid the punishment of being ignored.
The other images… brought to my mind by these words……
I am alone, I know I cannot move…. I’m unable to see if anyone is there, in a position of supplication….. no sound but my own breathing, no sensation but the fluttering of my pulse in my neck…. I might as well be wearing a rubber mask, chained to a ring in the wall, in a soundproofed room, but the chains are invisible, the prison created by my fear of rejection.
I am conflicted by the thought of punishment……on the one hand I need to be punished or tortured so I am aroused by the urge to beg, so is it associated with pleasure or pain?…if I’m ignored…. Is it cruelty or tenderness?
