Hands Tied

Tighter... harder... make me beg!

Where do our fantasies come from? Why do some of us have intense sexual desires for things in other other setting we'd be repulsed and afraid of?

Bondage, domination, humiliation, pain and torture. We'd shout for a criminal to be sent away for good if they did any of these things to us, and yet some people practically pee their pants in anticipation of having it done to them! (ok, so some pee their pants as PART of the experience...)

Is a person's interest in BDSM something that they're born with, like gender identity or sexuality? Is there an inner NEED to experience these things that drives them to ask Master for more whippings? Or is there some event in their past that triggers this. Some awful abuse as a child that's now fixated their mind on something to the point it's a point of pleasure rather than a memory of harm?

I haven't tried BDSM (yet...), but I'm learning a lot about it in the Yahoo group "Adventures In Sexuality". I'm discovering that I have a fascination with being tied up, bound, restrained, hung from the rafters or any other way someone might come up with. I haven't tried it yet, but I've got a lot of fantasies bubbling around in my head about it.

Why do I feel this way? I'm the world's biggest control freak, I want to be in charge of EVERYTHING. I multi-task with the best of them and work best when I'm either alone or there is no question about who is in charge (me!). In bed, it's the same thing, I am the dominant one and consider it my personal mission to guide my husband to a mind blowing orgasm. So where are these thoughts coming from? Why do I fantasize about the exact opposite of what I'm comfortable with?

I remember, or at least I think I do, of something from my distant childhood. It seems surreal now, not quite a true memory but maybe a hazy recollection of something similar that happened. I was young, possibly even before kindergarten age, and I see my parent's living room. Other people were there, friends of the family. It was bedtime and my dad was telling me it's time to change into pajamas and go to bed. But with all the people and excitement I didn't want to go, I was old enough to stay up too!

The memory is hazy, but I was in the center of the room, wanting to stay up, but in my mind I think what I really wanted was to be chased to bed. My dad obliged coming after me to put me to bed. His big hands not quite catching my little body as I ran, but instead catching hold of my pants. Shorts and underwear both come down in an instant binding my ankles and dropping me to the floor.

Time for pajamas, one way or the other! Everyone is laughing at me curled on the floor while my dad holds me down and undresses me forcefully. Look at the little naked boy! Time for bed! I'm laughing and trying to get away, but my dad's big hairy hands won't let me up. Once I'm fully naked, and mom has protested to the point of making him let me go, I streak naked to my room to get dressed for bed.

Did this really happen? Is this a real memory, or something my mind made up, or perverted from something vaguely similar that I experience somehow? It excites me and gets me horny. Not the sort of thing to bring up at the big family dinner when grandpa is cutting the turkey, and I'm not sure if it's something I even need to resolve. I feel no trauma from it, no ill will towards my dad. I just wonder if this could have been my earliest experience with being dominated and held in place, a predecessor of my fascination with bondage?

Later, as a teenager, I experimented with tieing my pubescent body up to my bunk bed. An elaborate way to masturbate, but it worked for me at the time. Also the constant fear that someone might walk in and catch me comes up. I think I may have touched on this in another blog entry earlier.

So there you have it. TMI - I'm good at that lately. But what's a blog for if you can't spread out your soul so you can pick it apart and get a better look.

What are your dark fantasies? Where do they come from? Have you ever tried them?

Peace and Long Life,

PaunFarr