Friday, July 5, 2013

Re-writing my sex-life (another spanking story about spanking stories)

So I wrote the story of our night of nights as if it were the real wedding-night of an eighteen-year-old fantasy-Emily. There was something about re-writing my erotic life that felt exhilarating: writing myself as more innocent than I ever was, really, since reading The Pearl on the ferry, and making Charles' cock the first real cock I had ever seen, while at the same time intimating the extremity of my submissive nature in the story of my discovery of porn, gave me the feeling that in writing this for Charles I could make him a love-offering that would really show him what was in my heart. 

I've never really felt bad about the five guys I slept with before him, nor is it really an issue for him, but both of us are very much bound into our fantasy-lives, and relatively traditional in our tastes, so, by way of the kind of fantasy-wish that you know can never be fulfilled and wouldn't be a good thing even if it were fulfilled, I often wish that I had come to his bed a pure, innocent virgin, to be instructed in the ways of pleasing a man.

The funny thing is maybe that when I wrote the first version of
Emily's Submissive Wedding Night I tried to make fantasy-Emily completely innocent, but it just didn't work. The line between ravishment and that other thing is authentic but unstated consent. The only way I could find to make virginal Emily consent interestingly was to give her a kick-ass fantasy-life before her marriage.

(I should say that it was pretty easy to make her consent uninterestingly--like this:

I felt so funny between my legs; it was strange and new, but I was sure that whatever Charles wanted to do to me there would be wonderful.

See what I mean? The words "strange" and "new" would have had a workout, but without much explanatory, or erotic, effect.)

For related reasons--that is, wanting to experience something I hadn't gotten to experience in the original version of events, I wrote the first versions of Emily's First Submission and Emily's First Spanking from Charles' perspective. As far as I can tell, the core of my submissive nature is the desire to be used--that is, to be treated as an object. 

Most of the time, when I write for Charles and for my own purposes of exploration (this includes when I'm writing to get myself off, of course), I like to write from my own perspective as sub, or from the perspective of another sub, because the paradox of willing the surrender of one's own will appears very piquantly when told from the point of view of the one who's surrendering. There's a certain perfection of objectification, though, that can't be achieved that way: the only way to make myself perfectly usable is to narrate myself as an object and not as a person. To see fantasy-Emily as the pure object of Charles' dominant lust was a wonderful, if very dark and even disturbing at times, adventure in erotic writing. Indeed, for me the only definition of "sexy" that really gets any traction over the concept is "fit for objectification"--that is, I think that there is no arousal, and no sex, without the feeling of using and being used by the other.

The huge region of my sexuality that's devoted to spanking (call it "Spankopolis" to continue my hackneyed but also time-honored exploring-metaphor) is a really interesting place from that perspective. From my earliest memories of spanking fantasies, spanking took shape as an act that's intended to teach a lesson. That is, it's not on the surface of it a use of the erotic object, but rather, in appearance at least, a strange form of communication. If I write, for example, in Emily's First Spanking

"Emily, if you will not tell me what I asked, there is nothing else for it. You must be punished. You must lie over the arm of the sofa, Emily, and learn a lesson."
"Oh, Charles! Oh, sir! Oh. . . p--please. . . P--please don't. . . d--don't spank me. . ." 
"If you will not obey me, my dear, I have no choice. Now lay yourself down, and don't make a fuss. A grown-up girl like you needs to learn what happens when she disobeys her husband."
the hotness comes from the way fantasy-Charles is taking fantasy-Emily in hand, and telling her that whether she likes it or not she is going to feel his justice on her backside until said backside blushes crimson. It doesn't seem like the reason reading that passage makes me, well, moist is that I'm thinking about being used for Charles' pleasure.

But, since I'm getting all philosophical, I want suggest that that obfuscation is precisely the magic of spanking that has so many of us spankos yearning to be over an authoritative knee. After long years of thinking about my BDSM orientation, I've decided that, at least for me, spanking actually exposes the very essence of how objectification produces pleasure for both top and bottom. It is a communication, but it's a communication with oneself: I am spanked because I am a little girl/naughty wife/slut/sub; and, I think, on the other side, for the top, I spank because I am a husband/Dom/Master. In the classic mode of the fetish, it transfers the objectification that's at the heart of the erotic to another register, the register of spanking that we spankos know and love so well: the hand, the hairbrush, the paddle, the cane, knickers down, corner-time, six of the best, "Hands!". (If you're like me, even those words, bare of context, made you damp just now.) Spankopolis has its own language, and that language puts us in our arousing places just as sex itself does.

To put it another way, I think spanking is a kind of pure erotic mode of communication. That mode is terribly bound up in our hangups about childhood and school and family, of course, which is what raises the basic hotness to fever-pitch, but that basic hotness comes I think from the same place the rest of my submissive orientation does: when Charles spanks me he is telling me that I am his wife (there's the objectification!), and he gets to spank his wife, just as he gets to enjoy her in any other way he pleases. Excuse me while I do some private exploration.

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