First of all, let me say to those in my Blog Circle that have recently shut their doors, temporarily or permanently, or have just taken a seriously long hiatus between posts of late that your contributions to our daily lives are sorely missed. Rebecca, Deb, and even to some extent Waiter, have reached points in their respective lives that the blogging no longer takes the same priority. More power to you all, and I truly hope that at some point your inner strength and outside schedule will allow you all to continue enriching all of us. That being said. . . .
Halloween is an especially provocative time to talk about those on the periphery of society, those that see things a little different, or enjoy things that most of us, at the minimum, would flinch at. The world calls them Freaks. They enjoy different. . . . modes of sexual pleasure than the rest of us. They are, much as homosexual or lesbians used to be, still in the closet, practicing their arts and leading a second life in the shadows.
Each of us has a darker side that comes out on occasion, but to these, their darker side is probably stronger and more demanding than the well conducted and orchestrated face that they put on to go to work every day. The Internet has allowed them to make contact with others of their persuasion, to a greater extent than before, so the groups have become larger as these individuals find that they are not alone.
I hesitate to call them Freaks. Why should we so label someone who has the inner fortitude to try something different, and in doing so, find that there are deeper and darker things in life that they can squeeze more pleasure out of, like a ripe orange fresh from the tree?
I learned something about certain connections at the Renfaire this week.
>>Oh gawd, Hilda, he’s off about the Renissants thing again. Why duss he keep talkin on and on aboot that thing, do yer know?<<
>Because it is an important part of my life and one of the only things I truly look forward to every year, you old bags!<
Renaissance Faires are crazy things. You can get away with saying or doing things that would get your face slapped half off your head in everyday life. When you flirt or pretend to hit on someone there, its seen as all part of the game, and you can get away with sheer murder in the way you act and approach the opposite sex. Because of that, a lot of the darker side of those we referred to earlier gets to come out and play without fear of repercussion, and with the out that they were just playing along with the joke if someone actually does take offense.
Case Study – Jacqui, a 28 year old single female. Nice body, FANTASTIC eyes, lovely face, short dark hair. Hanging out at the fair with her sister, who’s taste in . . . . Dom appears to be darn similar. I get the impressions that the young lady isn’t nearly so outgoing away from here. But she and her sister know their stuff. I get her into the shop and show her to a display, where, lucky as hell, I pull out her favorite color in Flogs. Its beautiful, green and black, hand woven around a stout handle with a round ball at the time that fits firmly between two fingers when you aren’t using a full grip on the handle. The tails are handbraided leather. She and her sister both look the thing over with the eye of a professional, pointing out minor imperfections that even a good leather worker would have a bit of a time seeing. Jaqui grabs the thing and begins twirling it around like a cheer leader with a baton, a complex pattern of weaving tails and swishing sounds. Knowing where that flog is intended to be used, and how, sends a minor chill down my spine. But was that fear, abhorrence, or just a little touch of excitement? Am I one of them? Am I one of the shadow people. My head tells me no, but experience and my heart say. . . . . you’ve never not tried anything once.
So, All Honor to the Freaks! May they (we) practice their arts in peace and harmony.
Michael
3 comments:
I won't go so far to say 'freaks' by any means. To each his/her own. That said, I can't say I have ever understood the allure of getting hit(be it by a whip,chain, baseball bat, or otherwise)to be turned on. I will never say never, but at the same time I think I would have to pass.
BD
BD,
I think that I can understand the allure of being the one with the whip. There is a sense of power there. And you always have to factor in just how serious or hard the whipping might be. Certain low levels of pain can sometimes increase or heighten sexual stimulation. Combine that with someone who has been abused or taken advantage of or controlled by the opposite sex, and I can easily see where control issues get resolved on a temporary basis by being in charge and "punishing" your partner. The high one might get from that moment could easily become addictive, and give entrance to the Shadow World.
On the other side, being the one whipped. I myself are with you in not necessarily looking at that as something that turns me on. But despite the trouble it has gotten me into over the years, I have ALWAYS been open to trying something once or twice. If the pain level was on a lower level, say, not drawing blood level but just the crack of leather across me, I 'd probably do it. That's just me. It's nice to let the woman take control some times and let her run things her way, generating some illusion of helplessness. It would also be an exercise in finding out if you could turn the tables on the whipper and "control" them back through your responses. But if I ever did try it just out of the blue with someone, I certainly would not place my self in a position where it combined being tied up or handcuffed. I just wouldn't allow that kind of control of the situation to someone that I did not intimately trust.
In a Dom/sub relationship, the balance of the "power" actually rests with the submissive. If the submissive is not willing to accept the form of discipline or control, no matter what it is, then it crosses the line into abuse.
Safe, sane, and consensual.
Amazing the things ya know, ain't it, boys?
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