Monday, 12 March 2007

I'm Amazed...

I am amazed that so many people have a hard time telling fantasies from real life. Or, I should rather say, the meaning of fantasies from real life. What I am thinking of is the assumption that since I write about fantasies, and especially, about spanking and submission fantasies I have to be a closet spankee and submissive (or whatever label is preferred). Most people assume that I am an unfulfilled spankee and my problem is, mainly, that I lack someone to tan my behind now and then.

As a true sceptic I can't dismiss such assumptions right away but I maintain that things are far more complex than that. Here are some of my thoughts about this. Firstly, there is no one-to-one relation between fantasies and reality. Fantasies are like dreams. What you dream, during the night, does not reflect real happenings all the time. It is the same with fantasies. Fantasies represent emotions and thoughts. The thoughts and emotions (desires, wishes, fears, anxieties) are real but the images are not. They stand for something and that something is not necessarily similar to the image. Wanting to be spanked in a fantasy does not, necessarily, mean you want it to happen in real life. It might mean that, I admit that (being the sceptic I am) but it might just stand for something else.

Secondly, I have come to realise that fantasies (at least in my case) often are in opposition to what my life is like. I am a quite independent person but in my fantasies I am, often, subject to others. It tells, I believe, something about a conflict in my mind but then if I am too independent in my real life, why can't it be that I am too submissive in my fantasies and that the desirable balance lies somewhere in between?

So, while the jury is out on the question whether I am an unfulfilled spankee or not I will blog about my fantasies, sharing them with anyone reading my scribblings. There must be plenty of people who are like me, fascinated by something, perhaps, at times, even obsessed with it but too shy to act upon it or thinking, like me, that the real action that the fantasies point to may be something completely alien to the fantasies themselves.

If there is someone I have spoken to and who feels targeted by this rant (most likely without intention from my side) then feel free to tell me that I am a very rude and insolent person! Perhaps you should dig deep into your minds and suggest some really nasty punishment for me. And, remember, punishments are supposed to be unpleasant!


Simon Kade said...

Well scribed. Is it ok if I punish you anyway?

Pete said...

janice, get me my strap...

manorlord said...

Whew, this post twists and turs. You start coolly, abstractly. You create a critic, a straw man to dismiss. You do this to distance yourself (the "real" you) from Janice (the "fantasizer" and dare I say, the creative, freer you).

Then you end with a coquettish invitation to punish you.

Ordinarily, I would have you choose your own punishment -- I would ferret the truth out (using means fair or foul). Your punishment: Public or private? Is the instrument new and glistening, or old and worn with use (on you? by you?) Perhaps you fashioned it yourself? Are you tied? Standing, lying, on a whipping horse? Facing the tormentor, or facing away? Blindfolded, or facing a mirror?

But, since you are not available to answer, I will choose for you.

You offer your crossed wrists to be tied. You walk, proudly, erect, eyes forward. You see the high, heavy oak beam. You have seen it before, others tied to it, perhaps at your command? All around you are hungry, eager eyes -- the eyes of your readers! You are determoned to show no fear, no shame, no reaction. You will give them NOTHING.

You stumble, wince, feeling sharp pebbles underfoot, a nasty trick. Now you are dragged to the whipping beam.

You do not have time to undress yourself, as you had planed. You are seized, lifted like a doll, your wrists fastened so high you are almost on tiptoe.

From behind, your blouse iws unbuttoned, slowly, one at a time, for dramatic effect. Nothing is wasted on those hungry eyes... test). Slowly, shoulder straps are snipped, help up, then dropped. A gasp of approval as you are naked to the waist, fair for the whip.

You fix your eyes straight ahead, slightly above those eager faces, with their licking lips.

A cool, smooth hand, still from behind, caresses your cheek. Pause. then two hands cup your sweet breasts, tenderly, appraisingly. Pause.

And then you feel ...

Can ellipses be instruments of torment??

manorlord said...

Twists and TURNS. TURNS.

Speaking of dignity lost...

Janice said...

Thank you for your comments, although you seem to have picked up on the end of my posting rather than my rant...sigh.

manorlord: forgive me for not answering all your comments although I want to tell you how grateful I am that you take your time to read and comment. You are very good at finding the important parts of my postings (even if straw man is a bit dismissive of the original argument). And your imagination seems vivid enough. If you want to talk to me directly then feel free to seek out my email on my profiles page!

A question for you, who is the freer, the one who dreams or the one who can act?