Wednesday, 31 January 2007

Spankable Offence!!

At least one reader out there thought that my typing errors were spankable offences. This was sent by Sideriteguy and it is with his permission I publish it here. I find this fantasy quite exquisite and lovely. And, furthermore, I hope this will show any reader that I am willing to share my space here with others and their fantasies. Read and enjoy!

Yes, your mistakes do require a spanking. Since the mistakes were public the spanking should also be public. Here is the outline of the spanking; your strange imagination will have to fill in the details.

The spanking will take place in private room of a 5-star hotel. The guests will be the people who found your mistakes and they will arrive dressed in formal attire. Drinks, Hors d'oeuvres and dinner will be served.

For the evening you will be dressed in a tight fitting black dress of moderate length. As the guests arrive you will greet them, give them a raffle ticket, and offer them a drink,

At the appointed time the punishment will begin. A raffle number will be drawn and the lucky guest holding the number will come forward to the sturdy chair that is displayed prominently to the side of the dining table. Upon his or her arrival you are asked to come forward and you are told how the punishment will proceed.

As this is a first offence the spankings will not be harsh. They will be OTK and with a hand. There will be a series of four spankings, one for each error, and they will proceed over the course of the evening. The first spanking will be over your black dress and the following spanking will occur after one article of your clothing has been removed.

You are gently led over the spanker’s knee and the spanking commences. The number of spanks given is equal to the last two digits of the number on the raffle ticket. After the spanking, the guests take their seats for soup and salad while you are led to a corner for corner time.

After eating the soup and salad are dispensed with a second raffle ticket number is called. The ticket hold comes to the chair and you are escorted there too. This raffle winner has the honor of removing your sexy black dress and does so slowly and with care leaving you facing the guests in your bra, and knickers.

Next a third raffle number is called. The spanker comes forward and takes you over his lap and administers the number of spanks to your knicker clad bottom that corresponds to the number on his ticket. When he is finished you thank him and are escorted back to your corner. The guests are seated for their entrées.

After the entrées are finished a number is called and the ticket holder goes to your corner and walks you to the chair and the center of attention. This time your bra is gently removed and you stand facing the crowd with you nipples bare. To your embarrassment you face the guests clad only in your knickers with your nipples hardening.

Your next spanker springs forward when her number is called and you are guided over her lap. She then proceeds to administer her shapely hand over your knicker clad bottom. Again, the number of spanks is commensurate to the number on her ticket. After the spanking you are lifted from her lap and your knickers are moved to reveal your reddened ass.

The guests are then asked to take their seats as you return to the corner. The guests are served coffee, tea and desserts, while you are realizing that you will be bared naked during the completion of the next act of this drama.

Finally, after what seems like an eternity, the next number is called and the winner goes to the chair. You are invited to join him. You hesitate for a moment, and then you realize that your fate is sealed and you slowly walk to the spanking chair. The winner is waiting you and you face the crowd. Again you are embarrassed by the hardness of your nipples and fear the revelation that your crotch is moist. Slowly, the winner places his hands on the bands of your knickers, moves them away from your body and gently slides them past your well warmed bottom and your moist nether regions. You face the guest completely naked with your hands at your side while the last number is called.

He slowly comes forward settles into the chair. You shake as you climb onto his lap and the final set of spankings begins. The spankings seem to last forever but eventually the spanking subsides and you realize that the punishment is over and you attempt to get off the spanker’s lap.

You are restrained in that position while the guests are invited to come and rub their hands over your glowing red bottom to ease your discomfort. After all the guests have paid homage to you well worn ass you are finally released from the OTK position and asked to join the party.

You join the party, but you must remain nude. The party is over and the last guest is assured that you will not be making anymore spelling or grammar mistakes in your future posts. Or else the punishment will be more severe.

Friday, 26 January 2007

Slaves and Masters

Dr. John Lange, professor at Queens College of the City University of New York has written a series of books under the pen name John Norman. The stories are set on Counter Earth, more commonly known as Gor. That which is peculiar to Gor and what fascinates most readers, I believe, is the social organisation of said planet. Women, on the whole, are more dependant on men than in our everyday life and one expression of that is the frequent enslavement of them. In fact it is the main theme of the books and Norman does elaborate at length on the details and practices concerning female slavery.

When these books are discussed, it is quite common to state that they are misogynous and badly written. I can understand that they are perceived as misogynous and to a certain extent they are but they are not badly written. Norman is actually, in my mind, quite good at describing his world and the adventures there. On a more critical note, it can be said that he tends to be a bit tedious when it comes to lengthy descriptions of the locks of collars and the different ways of tying a woman to a yoke or things like that.

Still Gor is a fascinating world where women often find themselves naked and in chains at the feet of strong men. A slave girl is an animal that can be bought and sold at the leisure of their owners. Norman maintains - at least in his books - that this is an expression of a natural order where the the dominant male submit the female to his wishes and where female slavery is the socially accepted extension of that. You may have all sorts of objections to that but the fantasy about female slavery does not cease to attract.

The first book I read was, I believe, Vagabonds of Gor, the 24th in the series. I was attracted to the books by their covers (see the lovely painting by Boris Vallejo, above, although it is not for that book!) and was, truly shocked when I read it. There is a sequence at the beginning when the hero rescues a woman in the marshes. It is nothing unusual about that but instead of being the perfect gentleman, he keeps her naked and bound to his raft and generally treats her badly. She is his captive and he is not lenient with her. As you may gather, this excited me immensely and I enjoyed how the author broke the rules of ordinary adventure books.

I do have fantasies about that world or about worlds inspired by it, where I have to kneel before my captor in the way slaves do on Gor, with straight back, hands on my thighs and my knees spread wide. In this way you open up your body, and your sex, to your captor and offer it to him. And, of course, you are naked when you do it.

Wednesday, 24 January 2007

A Visit to the Cinema

This is a story I wrote some time ago about a girl who has a very special experience going to the cinema.

We stood in the hallway on our way out. There was no rush, we had plenty of time but I was dressed and he was dressed and we were ready to move. I looked in the mirror and tried to decide if I looked good in my outfit. I felt a bit strange trying to see myself with some other person's eyes.

I was dressed as he wanted me in a tight fitting short black dress. It had thin straps that left my shoulders exposed. The skirt was short, very short, and reached me only to half my thighs, at the most. I had no stockings and only thin flat shoes with no heels. I felt exposed in the dress and couldn't decide if the sensation of embarrassment was more powerful than the sense of being sensual and perhaps even sexy.

I wasn't used to showing off my body in this way and wouldn't have chosen such a dress for an ordinary visit to the cinema but my partner wanted it this way and I obliged. It didn't feel bad but I felt naked. The sense of being a little sexy made the experience not completely a bad one.

I looked at myself and I felt excited, although I was embarrassed by seeing the shape of my body under the fabric of the dress. I wore no bra and only the tiniest of knickers. That increased the sense of being naked.

'Before we leave there is one thing I have to do,' he said suddenly waking me from my thoughts.

I looked at him as he walked away from the hallway. He looked smart in black trousers and a white shirt, casual but well dressed. He was slim and well built and very handsome.

I waited in anticipation for him to come back. When I saw him, my heart took a leap. In his hand he held the big wooden paddle. It was long and made of smooth and hard wood. It was heavy and very powerful. I felt my legs tremble. He smiled.

'What, what is that for...?' I asked realising that I was blushing.

'Your cinema spanking,' he said beaming.

I had never heard that expression before but it was quite clear what he meant. I was trembling. The prospect of getting a spanking was still terrifying. I stared with horror at the paddle. At the same time I couldn't control the tingling sensation in my sex that showed me that my feelings were utterly mixed.

Words can't really describe the sensation of being a girl, a young woman, on her way to the cinema, dressed for to attract the eyes of the male population and at the next moment being overwhelmed by a sensation of being helpless and extremely vulnerable. I blushed and felt the blood rush to my cheeks.

I accepted it and in my heart I wanted it but seeing the paddle in his hand made me terrified. I felt a sudden surge of anger, a want to protest and tell him that I didn't want it and that it was too painful and not at this moment. Still I stared at him, surrendering to his power. I knew that surrendering to him meant that I couldn't always choose the time and place and that if my surrender was true I had to accept it, not when I wanted it but when he wanted it.

'Now?' I asked with a thin voice.

'Here and now,' he said.

I nodded, scared of saying anything more.

'Pull up your dress and lean forward!' was his simple command.

He could say things like that with a soft and friendly voice. They were orders for me but spoken politely and as if I had a choice. I would never dream of protesting.

I pulled up my dress and leaned forward putting my hands on my thighs.

'Take down your knickers!' he ordered with the same soft voice.

For some reason I thought that maybe he wouldn't want to spank me on the bare. The knickers I had were very thin and covered my buttocks only partly.

I pulled down my knickers and left them at my knees. It was with a sense of loss I felt them touch my skin and continue down to my feet. I assumed my position. He seemed satisfied and held out the paddle.

The paddle was heavy. He had used on me before so I knew how it felt. I knew it was powerful and very, very painful.

There was a part of me that accepted being spanked and I told myself that it was a token of love. I even wanted it and craved it. I longed for the sensation of having been spanked, the calm, the feeling of having endured that came afterwards. Another part felt only fear. It is true that I, at times, wanted to be spanked and it made me aroused but no part of me liked it. No part of me enjoyed the pain of being spanked.

I closed my eyes and held my breath as I felt the cool surface of the paddle against my skin. It was time for my cinema spanking. I shivered as the paddle left my body. I was waiting for the impact.

I felt unreal as I heard the sound of the paddle through the air and then heard it hit my naked skin. I felt the impact and then, in a flash, the pain. The pain overwhelmed me and for a second I doubted my ability to endure. I took a deep breath and the panic gave way to my determination.

The next swat was even more powerful and painful and I had to take a step forward. My legs trembled and I had tears in my eyes. I didn't scream but the pain was excruciating. I didn't want any more. I felt I couldn't take any more. The surge of pain made me shiver. Then a deep breath gave me strength and I braced myself for the next blow.

I had to cry out as the third blow hit my now burning skin. The pain was tremendous and at that moment I couldn't understand why I endured it. I couldn't understand why I didn't just walk away, leaving him standing with his paddle, never to return. Why should I endure such pain, such humiliation and just for his pleasure?

There was a part of me that made me stand still, that made me wait and take the rest, a part that was stronger than my thoughts and stronger than my will to flee the pain.

The fourth blow made me scream a little and my thoughts changed. I stopped thinking, I stopped being concerned with why and for what reason. I just stood there, concentrating on my pain and keeping my position. I accepted it. I accepted being spanked.

I can't say that it was easier after that but I didn't have to struggle with myself. I just stood there waiting for the next blow, enduring the pain.

He gave me twenty more and I was crying and sweating when he was done. My body shivered and I was almost unable to stand up straight.

'Good, that was fun,' he said, 'make yourself ready for the cinema!'

I looked in the mirror and saw a red face with tears streaming from the eyes. I was in a poor state. I went to the toilet and washed my face and arranged my hair again. I was still shivering when I was ready but I looked more composed.

'Don't worry,' he said, 'you look fine. You are gorgeous.'

I didn't feel gorgeous but his words felt good. I smiled a faint smile and he beamed at me. I saw love in his eyes and I felt better.

We left the flat and walked out into the summer evening. My bottom was still on fire and I thought that anyone who saw me would know that I had been severely spanked just a moment ago. I felt vulnerable and naked and exposed to the whole world. My thin knickers felt like the coarsest of jute on my bottom.

As I walked the overwhelming sensation of pain and humiliation gave way to a sort of calm and soft feeling. My heart felt lighter. My bottom still ached but there was a warm feeling that was not altogether unpleasant. I felt a strange pride welling up in me. I was proud of having endured the spanking and I was proud, in a strange way, that he had wanted to spank me. I was his girl, the girl he wanted to spank and the sensation of my burning skin was like him touching me all the time. It was by his will it burned and stung and I enjoyed being overwhelmed by him.

We were in time at the cinema. He bought the tickets and we went in and sat down in the crowded room. It was painful for me to sit. He smiled at me as I moved around being quite uncomfortable.

Ten minutes into the film he leaned over and whispered in my ear to take off my knickers. Suddenly my thoughts left the film and I started thinking about how to do that without attracting attention. I had a man sitting next to me but he seemed fixated at the screen. That was good.

My heart beat faster and I wasn't sure that this was such a good idea. I trusted my partner and had surrendered to him but for a second I was in doubt. Then I knew that I had to do it.

My dress was tight and that made it harder to reach up under it and get hold of my knickers. I tried to do it casually on the side towards the stranger but it took me some time to get hold of my knickers. I pulled and pulled and managed to work them down a bit from my hip. I did the same thing on the other side and felt my knickers moving over my tender skin. The next time I worked on the side towards the stranger it was easier to get hold of them. I had to repeat the procedure two or three times but at last I had moved them down on my thighs but they were still covered by my skirt. I took a deep breath and pretended to drop something on the floor and leaning forward I pulled my knickers down and left them around my ankles. Now I could sit up and step out of them. Then I had to lean forward again to pick them up from the floor. They felt tiny in my hand as I gave them to him. He took them and put them in his pocket.

'Now, pull up your skirt so that your skin touches the chair!' he whispered in my ear.

My heart started pounding again. I had done this before once but then I had worn a long and wide skirt that covered my body, although I had been naked beneath it. This time I had no such privilege.

It was easier to pull up the skirt than it had been to take off the knickers. I suddenly felt my naked and newly spanked skin touch the coarse fabric of the seat and I felt exposed. The sensation was overwhelming. I felt vulnerable and utterly humiliated but at the same time tremendously aroused.

My tight dress clung to my hips and anyone who would look at me sitting there would see that it had been pulled up. It was not obvious that I was without knickers but it would look strange and exposed anyway.

'Don't cross your legs!' he whispered and my heart sank.

I uncrossed my legs and felt even more exposed than before. I could only hope that no one would see me. I sat there half naked in the darkness of the cinema and could not really think about the film we were watching.

My heart was pounding and I felt I was blushing and I struggled to sit still and not provoke any attention. I was terrified and humiliated and my head swirled.

Then I felt his hand. I almost cried out when I felt his hand against my thigh. The fact that it touched naked skin and not my dress made me feel aware of my nakedness.

His touch was powerful and made my body shiver. I held my breath. The sensation when he moved his hand was that of losing control of reality. I wasn't sure I was there and that this was not a dream. Horror, panic and shame went through me as his hand moved towards my sex and I realised how helplessly aroused I was.

I didn't want that arousal and the pleasure of being touched. Still I was helpless. I was at his mercy. I couldn't stop him, couldn't run away. His touch was determined and his fingers found their way into me. I had to surrender.

I had to struggle not to let anyone in the cinema see how I felt. His touch was intrusive, humiliating and powerfully arousing and utterly, utterly desirable. I gave in to the sensation and my body wanted him to take me to the climax despite the horror of being in a public place.

I remember watching the film intensely trying to divert my thoughts. Still I longed, still I wanted it and still he brought me closer to it. He was careful not to rush it. He kept me waiting, holding his fingers still and only moving slightly at times. This made the whole thing slow and painful and absolutely fantastic.

At last he let me come. My body shivered and I had to bite my lip not to cry out. It was powerful, terrifying and utterly pleasurable. I sat there for a long time trembling and not able to do anything but trying to breathe slowly.

Then the sensation of shame struck me. I thought that everyone must know what had happened. I leaned over to him and asked:

'May I pull down my dress?'

'No,' he answered plainly.

I bowed my head in shame.

I sat for a while overcome with my humiliation. After the most powerful surge of shame had left me there was another sensation that called for attention. In my heart I felt a bit proud about what had happened. I was devastated by the fact that I had been had in public, although, hopefully, no one had noticed but at the same time I felt satisfied and proud of having endured. He wanted this of me and I had endured and I had found pleasure in submitting to him and the pleasure he gave me.

The film was long and I started watching it but I didn't for one second forget that I was sitting half naked with my bare skin against the seat and that I had been spanked and taken.

When at last the film came to an end I asked him:


He nodded consent and I pulled down my dress. We left the cinema among the crowd and I didn't care to know if they had seen me. We walked home after this strange and overpowering evening and I knew in my heart that he loved me and that I loved him without constraints and trusted him with my life and my body and I would allow him to do anything with me, anything he wanted.

Monday, 22 January 2007

Spankable Offence?

Oh, dear! I just checked my earlier postings and in one I found not one but at least three or four errors. Most of them were typing errors but there where others as well. I am sure there are still errors left behind. I can't understand how I can be this sloppy and I sincerely apologise for it. The question now, is sloppy typing a spankable offence? What is an appropriate punishment for such a thing?

Friday, 19 January 2007

Being Shy

It may seem a little strange claiming to be shy when you have a blog about secret fantasies. I don't think it is. I believe that shyness lies behind a lot of expressive and extrovert behaviour. And having a blog like this is not that public, after all. Well, it is, in one way, but I am hiding somewhere, not telling you about myself. It is, a little, like stripping naked in public but keeping a thick veil over my face. And I decide from what viewpoints you are allowed to see me even if I am naked.

Lately I have come to realise that being shy is one important driving force behind my fantasies. I am not sure this goes for anyone else but for me it is. If I continue writing my blog you will find it is very much about being exposed in front of others and not having to be responsible for what happens. If you are shy this is the ultimate fear and the ultimate desire; to be forced to show yourself as the one you are but not having to be responsible yourself.

My fantasies are concerned a lot about being aroused but little about wild sex, a lot of anticipation and things leading up to sex but not much of raunchy details. This may seem boring to many but it is important to me.

Wednesday, 17 January 2007

A Lovely Summer's Day

I have decided to post a whole story on my blog. I enjoy writing stories and I don't pretend to be very good at it but it is nice to see that I am improving (at least that is what I think). A story is something different from a fantasy. A story may be based in a fantasy but it is not the same. A story has a life of its own and something changes when you move a fantasy to a story. You may choose different angles and perspective and if I continue posting stories you will find that I have been many a person in my stories. This story is a romantic tale of a young woman who discovers that the man of her dreams has something special on his mind. It is inspired by the picture above by the very talented artist Waldo. Part of this story was included in my post About Spanking.

It was a lovely summer day. The sun was shining down on a smiling world and the trees were green, the grass was green and the river was green. The wind was almost still and the day was a perfect day for a picnic of some sort.

Spring semester had ended and we had time to spend doing whatever we wanted. Many went home but a few of us stayed on in the sleepy town. I was still new to the university but I loved the life there. I had made new friends and this day we had decided to have a picnic.

Everything was perfect as our small party set out on our journey. We had planned on taking the train to a small village south of town. There was a ruined castle and a big park that seemed to be perfect for us.

We were only four of us, my best friend K., her boyfriend J. and a tall, silent but very confident young man that I happened to fancy. The set up was more than I could wish for.

I am quite sure that the young man, H., was unaware of my feelings for him. I was not a person to show such things openly. I only managed to blush and talk incoherently in his presence. Anyway, I saw this excursion as an opportunity to remedy this.

We were in quite a jolly mood as we walked from the train to the lush, green park with our picnic basket between us. The truth is that the others were chatting and laughing and I did nothing apart from some laughing from time to time. My mouth seemed to be glued together.

I loved every moment in the company of H. but at the same time my heart was beating with fear that he wouldn't notice, that he wouldn't see me as the one I wanted to be for him.

We sat down and had our lunch and in the lazy summer afternoon we decided to take a walk. K. and her boyfriend said they wanted to take a stroll in the park. H. said he wanted to take a closer look at the ruins. I don't know why he said that, maybe he was just polite and wanted to give K. and J. time for themselves. Anyway, this was my moment. I boldly declared that I would love to see the ruins and off we went.

My ability to talk was even more hampered by being on my own with the gorgeously handsome H. He didn't seem to mind and was quite happy doing the talking. He told how fascinated he was by castles and knights and that it had been like that since his childhood. I tried to add the odd comment from time to time but I was, in truth, quite happy listening to him and just being with him.

We climbed the hill to the castle and found ourselves, soon, walking among the ancient walls of the old buildings. Although happy in his presence I suffered from my indecision and not being able to express my true feelings for him. I dreaded the moment I would reveal to him how I felt and he would tell me he liked me as a friend but that he did not fancy me. I was quite sure that it would be like that but I could not deny my feelings.

We came to a place were we could overlook the park and the river and we stopped walking for a while. We admired the view in silence and I realised that this had to be the moment to tell him about my feelings.

I stood there looking out over the river gathering courage to talk to the very attractive man that was standing by my side. My heart was beating fast and I was scared beyond belief.

At last I turned to him determined to say something. I didn't know what I was going to say but I had to say something. The moment would be gone soon and there might be no more opportunities.

As I turned he turned as well and for a brief moment we were staring into each other's eyes. I couldn't speak and he didn't speak. We just stared. It felt like hours but I am sure it lasted only a second or two.

Then he spoke.

'There is something I have been meaning to do for a long time.'

It is easy to imagine how my heart stopped beating at that.

'What...,' was my only reply.

Then something strange happened. I don't know what I expected him to do. I had hoped he would kiss me or take me in his arms, of course, but the thing he did was not something I would have thought of.

He grabbed me around my waist, I remember that. I realised how strong he was as I found myself turned and dragged in the strangest manner possible. He handled me as if I was a small child and I was too surprised to realise what was happening.

Suddenly I found myself lying in his lap. He was sitting on a low wall, the very wall we had been looking over to see the river and the park. I was lying face down in his lap and my first thoughts were thoughts of surprise. I, truly, didn't understand.

I was still confused as he flipped up my skirt and my mind was in such turmoil that I didn't realise what he was doing. I remember a sensation of embarrassment at the intimate and arrogant act of flipping up my skirt.

The confused sensation of embarrassment and maybe even humiliation was added to as I felt how he took hold of my knickers and with one bold movement pulled them down to my knees. I felt him move and later I realised that he was pulling off a small switch from a small bush like tree close by.

He was still for a brief moment. I said nothing, did nothing. I waited. Then he started spanking me. I heard the switch travel through the air and then I felt its sting on my, now, naked behind. I was shocked and overwhelmed and I think my heart had stopped beating.

I remember how he relentlessly let the switch land on my poor exposed buttocks and how my sense of shock changed to a sensation of pain. I didn't scream, I was too overwhelmed, but I think I moved and maybe I squirmed a bit.

I was embarrassed, humiliated, scared and overwhelmed by his treatment. I remember being upset by the meanness of him choosing to switch the most exposed and vulnerable part of my body like that.

There was a strange sensation within me that I could not understand at first. I was strangely satisfied with the fact that he wanted to do something with me. I wanted to be close to him but this was not how I had imagined it to be. The fact that I was partly undressed made me feel upset and strangely excited. To be completely honest there was bit of arousal as well but that I could not admit.

Then he was done spanking me. He helped me to my feet and I was anxious to adjust my clothes. I stared in disbelief at him. He stared at me. His eyes were wild and his confidence seemed to be shattered by some strange passion within him.

'What...?' was the only thing I could say.

His reply was unexpected. He took my head in his hands and kissed me. It was a powerful and demanding kiss and this overwhelmed me as much as the spanking had done.

My knees were weak as he released me.

'I have been wanting to do that for a long time.'

'What, kissing me or spanking me?' I asked with some new found boldness.

'Both,' he answered.

'But why?'

'I don't know,' he said, 'there is something about you...I can't really say.'

At that moment he fell silent as I took a step closer to him. He kissed me again, this time with a soft and very gentle kiss. My heart was beating fast again and my head was still in turmoil but it was good pressing my tiny person against him and receiving that lovely caring kiss.

We walked back to the park and this time H. held my hand and K. and J. understood that something very special had happened in the ruins. At least they thought they understood what. To some extent they had but I can't imagine they knew what had come before the kisses.

I was happy sitting by his side on the train on our way back to town. Although my bottom was smarting it was the happiest moment of my life.

We stayed together for some time, H. and I, but later it came to an end as we both left university and although that was sad he is still a lovely memory, a memory I keep close to my heart.

He was no tyrant or even a dominant man. He was confident, that was true but he was gentle rather than brutal and kind rather than demanding. Still he spanked me from time to time. I didn't particularly enjoy the pain but the sensation of his strength, my helplessness and the excitement that came with it made those occasions something to cherish. He spanked me because he enjoyed it and and that was the only reason for him to do it. That was the only reason I needed.

Tuesday, 16 January 2007

A Darker Side

Does it ever happen to you, Dear Reader, that you see something, hear something that is really objectionable, even revolting, something you think is wrong and bad but still it makes you excited, even aroused? When this happen it is hard to get your head around it. You disapporove of it, think it is bad and wrong and nothing that should ever happen to anyone, still it is something that creates that little tingle within you. I know there are mature people around who have no problem with this, who realise that it triggers a fantasy, something that symbolises something meaningful for you and is valuable just for that reason, people who are able to pull out the positive side of it and distinguish between its value as a fantasy and the reality that is, simply, bad. I still feel guilty about being excited by some scenes in films and books and such things.

There is a scene in the the brilliant film A Clockwork Orange, by Stanley Kubrick, based on the novel by Anthony Burgess, that has that effect on me. The scene begins with Rossini's The Thieving Magpie while the camera pans down on a gruesome scene. A gang of brutes has captured a woman and are intent on having some fun with her. She struggles but in vain. The men gradually strips her and then proceeds to carry her to a place where they, without doubt, are going to rape her. The rape is interrupted by the entrance of the main protagonist, Alex, and his gang and the scene ends in a great battle between the gangs. The poor naked girl is able to escape. Alex saves her from her ordeal but there is no hint of him appearing on stage to do that. That is just a side effect of it all.

There is something in that scene and especially the beginning that struck a chord within me. The girl is devastated, she is struggling to keep her assailants away but they are stronger. For them it is just some fun, they are laughing and are having a good time. She is far from that. She is in tears, she is about to be raped, her worst fear is going to become reality and the gang is just laughing. She pushes them away but they keep coming back, holding her, gradually stripping her of her clothes.

The contrast between the clothed, laughing gang and the devastated, and naked girl is brutal and degrading but there is something in this scene that created this unwelcome sensation of excitement and arousal. Against my will I had to admit that I found the scene sexy.

After a while I began to come to terms with the scene and accept that there is a difference between fantasy and the grim reality a rape is. I still think the scene is exciting and I still feel a little guilty about it but I have to admit that it triggered a lot of fantasies in my mind.

I wouldn't mind getting some comments on this. Have anything similar happened to you? I am sure it has.

Thursday, 11 January 2007

Ziggy Stardust

I am back after a nice and long holiday. I was wondering what to put in my blog as the first entry of this year. Fantasies are not just about whippings, chains and nudity (although they mostly are...). Sometimes there are other themes as well (of course). This time I wanted to write about Ziggy Stardust, not David Bowie but Ziggy himself.

There is something immensely attractive about Ziggy Stardust. He is a man, a rocker, there is no doubt about that. But at the same time he is a man with earrings and make up and sometimes very girly clothes. Most people would, probably, say that he is very gay and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that but for some strange reason that label seems wrong to me. He is neither man nor woman, he is Ziggy. He is androgynous rather than anything else.

I am not the first one to address this issue and there has been a lot of writing about it and this will not add anything substantial. So what is the fantasy?

He is very ambiguous for me. On the one hand, he is very attractive, as a man, as a performer, as a space alien. On the other, I would like to be him. If I ever dreamed about being a rock star it would be Ziggy I would like to be. Not for his appeal to men but for his appeal to women. I would like that, standing on the stage, singing, performing and having loads of teenage girls screaming in the audience.

Enough of this rant. It is good to be back writing my blog.