Authorities

I have noticed a certain reluctance among people who declare their interest in anything kinky, for explaining or understanding the interest. I can understand that this has to do with a refusal to be regarded as deviant or, even worse, perverse. We know that kinky people are like any people; jealous, petty, evil, loving, nice, caring, cautious, intelligent and generally wonderful.

If you, like me, are blessed and cursed with an enquiring mind, you can't help asking the questions. Why? And how? What's behind it? And that is not confined to kink. Most things pose questions, make you wonder.

I thought I would share a thought that is very personal and maybe an answer to some of the whys of my imagination.

Tying people up, stripping off their clothes, and whipping them have a lot to do with power, the uneven distribution of power. This leads me to think of authorities. We have all been faced with people with power, teachers, parents, coaches, clerks and officials.

Our experiences of people with authority may be varied. Except my parents and a few others I have always been suspicious of authorities, scared of people with power, and especially if they have power over me.

I didn't grow up in a time when those people had the power to deal out the kind of punishments I so happily include in my fantasies. But I have always been aware of being quite powerless before some of those people.

In addition I have a history of disappointments in authorities, of teachers who taught me things I knew were wrong, and who wasn't adult enough to admit it, and the arbitrariness of some of them. I would have loved to have had a good teacher, one I could trust and whom I believed was right, who was able to teach me something of the world, about living in it.

The very thought that one of those people would have been given the power to punish me with, for example, a spanking, is terrifying. I could think of few things as humiliating and abhorrent. There is not even the slightest fascination in it, the idea is really terrible.

So, there is it, a person with a profound distrust for authorities, and a similarly overwhelming dislike for the idea that they should be given any power over her. And yet this person is obsessed with punishments and the unfairness of it all, the very difference in power between people.

Could it be that fantasies are, somehow, fuelled by the unfairness of childhood, the fear of humiliation and that sense of helplessness, and that one way of dealing with it, is to take control over them and approach them in an environment where they can do no harm, any more? To turn it into something good, something you enjoy?

Some people seem to have similar experiences but take another path, they want to be the ruler, the one who punishes and decides. It seems logical. I still struggle with the fact that I tend to go there on another path, let myself be humiliated and punished. I am still not sure why I so want it in my imagination.

Touching Happiness

This time I will use my blog to write about me. I always do, you know, but this time directly and not through some story or fantasy. Maybe what I write will be sad, I don't know, but this is how it is.

Don't get me wrong, most of the time I am a content person, happy with what is there, able to see the good things in life as well as the bad things, with a fairly real view of life...I think. What I wanted to write about is something else. I wanted to write about that underlying, always present, experience of being outside.

As long as I can remember I have had that feeling of being outside, left out and that things don't really happen to me. Reality is always beyond me, too far away. I am still like that.

Most of the time I don't think about it, but occasionally this sensation surface, becomes real. And then I know it is always there, always present. Holidays sometimes have that effect, emotions catch up with you and hidden feelings become real.

There is a longing, of course, to be able to reach that which I feel is real, that which is beyond me, that place where it really happens, where I am whole and complete and not lonely. Growing up has to some extent been realising that life is here and now and not over there, not that which I really long for. It is hear and tangible, at times, and not there and perfect.

When I met my first love, when my love, for the first time, was answered, I became happy. I was struck by a sense of reality, that things were really happening, now and to me. Whatever it was, it crashed through the barrier and became real. I was truly happy in all senses of the word.

It didn't last. The real reality made itself known, the distance between people became real and I crashed. I can't call it anything else. This was a terrible time, a crisis, almost madness. Not to the extent that I was admitted anywhere or treated it with anything, drugs or medication or that sort of thing. But I crashed and it was hellish.

I have had similar experiences since, not as powerful and not as terrible, but it has always been connected to powerful emotions, when I break through the barrier, when something good happens. The truth is that I cope better with misery than happiness.

The barrier is not complete, not impenetrable. There is sweetness in life, sweetness that makes me feel real. I can see that now. A caress can be so immensely sweet that I can feel that this is the only reality I ever need. Sometimes a smile or a kind word can get through and touch my heart. Growing up has been to learn to see these small holes in the wall, the moments when I am not alone and miserable. It makes me more content, more satisfied with life.

I will not return to blogging and connect it to what I am doing here. Fantasies are to some extent a way of dealing with that longing, that desire for not being outside, but being inside, where things happen to me for real. Entering into my imagination is to enter into a world where I can create that reality I deep down long for.

Fantasies are not just about sex but they are fuelled by desire. This is because sex is real, sex is something that breaks through, a little, and at times. Not always. Sex is something that really happens and that makes it real. It is dangerous too because when it is really good, the returning to the world can be harsh.

Fantasies about things that are arousing, is a way of being transported to that other world of real things, that world of longing, where things are simple and sweet and delightful. Sex and arousal are good things in that world and that is why they are so prominent in fantasies. But they are not the only thing I long for.

Maybe the kinky side of fantasies functions as a battering ram, to break through the wall. It is by shocking the system, by breaking the norms that I am crashing through and can allow myself the sweetness of my fantasies. I don't know, I am just writing down my thoughts.

Blogging, for me, is not just about writing stories, it is about admitting to that strange inner world where my longings and desires exist, even those that are truly beyond anything that can ever be real.

I see, now, that I have used 'reality' and 'real' in two different ways. On the one hand it refers to the world where we live, where we watch tv and eat food and can be lonely, and on the other hand it refers to that other existence, that inner world, the one I long for, that world where things really happens, the imaginary dreamworld. I hope I haven't confused you too much.

What is it About?

I got some really nice and interesting comments on my last blogpost, In Denial?. My initial though with that post was to talk about and perhaps confess to a kind of being short sighted and not really accepting the obvious, that is, that fantasies are sexual (although they are much more than that). The comments, however, raised another issue and that has to do with guilt.

Despite the header for this post, I am not trying to explain what this thing is all about. No, just talk a little about it and perhaps start a discussion with you, Dear Readers.

Since I am not participating in any kind of real life activities concerned with BDSM, Spanking or D/s or that sort of thing (let's call it Kink, just to have a good word for it) I can only talk about what happens in my own mind when I think and fantasise about these things.

I do believe that even if you really are into it, really live it, and experience all of the physical sensations that go with it, there is a lot of fantasising going on, that many real and enjoyable floggings are, a kind of, living out of fantasies. What I am trying to say is that the mind thing is central, even for those of you live it in your real lives. Please, tell me if I am wrong or misunderstand things, which I am bound to do.

For me fantasies are a lot about consent and mutuality. But, and this is the brilliant thing with stories and fantasies, sometimes the consent is outside the story. I can let myself be enslaved in a fantasy, I can let it happen against my own will and I can be subject to, what is really, abuse. Even of the worst kind. My consent is outside the scene that is played out in my head or in my story. I am in full control even if I am helpless in the story.

Although I don't write much about the 'scene' I do love stories where there is consent, stories about love that contains submission and control. In these stories the consent is inside the story. And so is the trust. With the first kind there is no trust, rather the opposite, the other kind is based on it, the very essence of it. Those are really stories about love and friendship and being accepted for who you are with your mind, twisted and warped, as you may feel it is, at times.

To return to the issue of guilt, I think it is more prominent in the first kind of stories, the one that depict some kind of abuse, those where you are raped or enslaved or forced to do things. A story makes things more real, makes it seem as if it has happened in real life, you begin to think of the events and what it looks like, what it smells like and how it feels. I think the guilt is made more more prominent by this almost reality that is in fantasies and stories. How can you desire to be hurt or hurt someone, especially someone or by someone you love or loves you? Why do I find this thought of humiliation so delightful? That sort of thing.

For me there is guilt in the others as well; facing up to the fact that I have these thoughts, is hard, and the thought of living them with someone who wants the same is compelling but frightening. Maybe it has to do with the fact that I don't, that I do prioritise love in the form I have encountered it and the fact that I think my dreams and fantasies would shatter if faced with too much reality. This is really besides the point, only to show how I feel about it.

So, to get back to your comments. Lea talks about the contrast between the desire and the form, that reminds her of bad things, abuse and violence and that sort of thing. I think that is really why I feel guilty too, that it I don't want to promote abuse while I find it immensely exciting to be abused in my fantasies.

Lily said something which I found very beautiful, 'the “beauty” inherent within the acts which involve consent and trust'. For me this opens up a new vista of thoughts, thoughts that have to do with what I truly believe fantasies and my writing are about, a longing for trust and love, the kind that goes to the core of your being. It is too much to go deeper into here and I admit that this paragraph may appear a little cryptic but I do hope I may come back to this later, sometime.

Z said something which I liked, that it is because Kink is immoral that we enjoy it. I agree to a certain point, I do think it is part of the appeal although other emotions are involved as well. There is absolutely something of the joy of breaking the rules, doing what is not allowed there.

I honestly think fantasies about Kink are fantasies about very basic human needs, and that trust is not just a prerequisite for indulging in Kinky activities but really a fundamental driving force behind them. It is the sense of being safe that is at the core of it. But to end this with a disclaimer, this is how I feel about it and I really don't want to try to explain away anyone's experience or take on it, I really don't. I invite you to give your view on these matters and I hope I will come back to it and elaborate on it.

Janice v. Gor

Whenever you talk about a world where men hold women as slaves, a fantasy world that is suitably ancient and exotic, someone will tell you it is Gorean. I find this a bit annoying. I will immediately apologise to the one (see the comments on my last entry) who triggered this, this time. I am not having a go at you, this happens all the time.

So, am I inspired by John Lange, aka John Norman, and his Gor books? Yes, of course. I have read a fair share of them and how could you not be inspired? Everything I see and read and experience inspire me. But my fantasy world is not Gorean, full stop. Unless you mean Gorean in the same sense as USA is Roman because they have an empire or Barbara Cartland is Austen because people marry at the end.

Does it matter? Not really. I just want to make clear that where I go, in my mind, where I have my fantasies play out is not Lange's counter earth, the slave owners in my stories and imagination are not Gorean.

I do find Lange's books fascinating, and inspiring, but only up to a point. And now I am going to rant about what I don't like about his creation.

Life on Gor is highly formalised, at least social relationships. People are organised in castes if they are free and if they are slaves they are property. The main character, Tarl Cabot, is a member of the warrior caste but betrays the code of the warriors and becomes and outcast. Free women on Gor have to have their faces covered and removing the veil from a woman is about the most degrading thing you can do to her, short of enslaving her. It is a world that reminds me more of the Vatican or Medieval Japan than the Wild West or Europe during the Barbarian Invasions.

In addition, Gorean men seem to be scared of women. The relationship between everybody, including free men and owned women, is ritualised and very strict. A slave who speaks in the wrong way or doesn't show enough willingness to serve or in any way doesn't adhere to protocol is severely punished. A slave's life is full of the treatment that is meant to demean her and show her, not just that she is property but also worth nothing. This, to me, speaks of anxiety, not about self confidence and real power.

I can go there, I do occasionally. There is an appeal in this ritualised, formal and very degrading treatment of women. It is strange but part of me wants to be humiliated in fantasies. But I never stay there for long. In my world, my fantasy world, when ruthless men captures women and keep them as slaves, I like to think of them as confident enough to know that a slave is a human, although an owned one, and that there is no need to assert your power during every single second of every single day. The world won't collapse if the owner sits down and laughs with the slave. (If you now want to prove me wrong by finding quotations from the Gor novels where slave owners are friendly with their slaves, please, don't. This is about my overall impression of Gorean society as anxious and regulated rather than wild and relaxed and you are free to disagree.)

Yes, I do have many worlds in my head, some that clash if they would be put side by side. What I am saying is that I do find slave fantasies rather nice but mine are not Gorean, not that often any way, but they are still full of deserts, slave markets, chains, whips, nakedness and ruthlessness.

I can see that this seems superficial and why bother about details? And is there really a difference? I don't know and I will not try to analyse and argue it any further. Call it what you want. But if my world is Gorean, it is as much Hyborian, Barsoomian and of Arabian Nights. I am just tired of the label, as if John Lange is the only one who has imagined how fascinating it can be with a world where slaves are kept for the pleasures of their owners.

That Other Side

Before I write about that other side I will talk about this side, the one that is here, on the blog, the one I usually write about.

In many ways I came to this kind of fantasies as an observer. There are so many damsels in distress out there, in stories and films, and I couldn't help being fascinated by it. Films sometimes depict scenes of abuse, even rape. There are book covers with muscular heroes battling fierce monsters while a scantily clad woman struggles in her bonds, hoping for the hero to succeed.

I have been fascinated by those themes, wondering what it would be like to be chained to the wall, clad in almost nothing and having to rely on some barbarian prince to rescue me. Or being the subject of abuse and horrors from villains and criminals. The crucial point is, of course, that it didn't just scare me, it attracted me. I felt a kind of thrill thinking of those situations.

Being as I am, I had to try to understand why a scene from A Clockwork Orange, where a girl is stripped naked to be raped, only to be rescued by accident by the protagonist of the film, why such a scene gave me this thrill and not just the horror one would expect.

Lots of things pop up, it's about not being responsible, being vulnerable, allowed to be sexual without guilt. But I will not go further down that road, at the moment. What I am trying to say is that it has been a gradual process, from being scared and fascinated to identifying and even trying to find some kind of beauty in being subject to abuse.

On this blog I have tried to explore this side of me, the Yin side. It has been a great relief to accept this side, the side that isn't what you are supposed to be, at least not where I live.

There is another side, however, albeit less dominant. Maybe that is the spot of Yang in the Yin and only goes to show that it is the balance between the sides that matters, not just expecting one to reign supreme.

He is there, of course, in my stories, like a shadow, or rather a dark undefined force. In my very strict division of things, in my fantasies, he tend to be male. I am of course talking about That Other Side now.

I am immensely fascinated by that side too. In my fantasies he takes the form of the arrogant man, the ruler, the conqueror, the one with confidence and power. Sometimes it is a woman, although she tends to be more balanced, more like a real person, balancing a desire to be cruel with a care about the other.

I have done a bit of writing, trying to see things from the other side, allowing myself to be fascinated by that sense of power. What is it like to be cruel and ruthless? What is it like to feel that power and enjoy it for yourself and care little about the other.

I have been reluctant to post any of those scriblings, since they are so completely different and strange compared to what I usually put here.

Sometimes this person is a young man, who discovers that he gets away with spanking his girlfriends. In fact, they like him to do it. He gains in confidence and may discover that he doesn't even have to limit himself to one girlfriend. He finds he can do what he pleases and in this strange, twisted world, the women allow him that, they are as fascinated as I am by his ruthlessness and confidence.

He may be a slaver, a man who deals in women as commodities. He loves women, in his own way, they bring him profit and are generally pleasing for him, as long as they are in chains, belong to him and obedient enough to do his biddings.

I think this slaver comes from my fascination by and love of those strange and exotic lands were women are slaves and can be bought and sold for gold. I am fascinated by being a slave there.

But as it happens, I get this image of the man who is the owner, the slave trader. I wonder what motivates him, why did he become a slaver? Does he have to be this swine, this villain, this evil creature? Isn't it far more interesting if he is a man with a heart, who loves his family, who has friends he cherish and who have loyalties and values? It is just that his world is a man's world, where women are there to please men, for the simple reason that men rule that world. And that there is no contradiction for him to be loyal to his friends and at the same time, completely disregard the wishes of a woman he has put his chains on.

How is it to be that man who actually enjoys spanking a woman, his woman, the woman he loves and cares about? How is it to be the man who feels elated and happy when he uses his power over someone to cause them to suffer, not out of hatred but out of sheer love for that power, being selfish and ruthless enough to admit to himself that he really enjoys it.

As you can see, I do have a lot of thoughts about this and they are, of course, as far removed from reality as my submission fantasies and as close to it as they are. What I mean is that they happen in a world that doesn't exist but are still concerned with real life emotions and thoughts.

A little disclaimer here. Please don't think that this discussion about a more dominant side of my thinking means that I have opinions about those of you who consider yourselves as being dominant. I know there are a lot of other things going on and that you regard trust and care and love as being crucial as much as any submissive person. These are aspects of my mind, thoughts about how people behave and do in fantasies, not a statement about real life people.

Honesty?

I have been blogging about my fantasies for almost three years now. I have dared to write about my own, sometimes, silly preferences and desires. I have almost only been met with acceptance, tolerance and enthusiasm. This is a true blessing, to realise that what I fancy, what I am ashamed of admitting I fancy, actually are things that you readers either accept or even like.

This grace makes me happy and it makes me more prone to accepting others, to be less judgemental about what others enjoy and prefer. I don't think I was very judgemental before but the generosity and acceptance I have received have only gone to strengthen this stance.

I have tried to be honest, as far as I am able. And this leads to a dilemma. Fantasies are about what we fancy, what we want and desire, maybe even what we fear and loathe. They evoke powerful emotions, strong feelings and overwhelming desires. This means that negative feelings are as prominent as positive ones.

What I am talking about is that when we move in the land of fantasies and when we share we are bound to come across themes that are as powerfully repulsive as other are desirable. One persons turn on may be the other's turn off.

It is not always easy to only write about the positive and never mention the negative. I have avoided that just because I don't want to be judgemental or seen as being judgemental.

I haven't talked about my dislike for high heels and how rubber suits are at best silly and at worst a real turn off for me. I haven't told you that dressing sexy is more likely to be a body hugging short black dress than a pair of high heel leather boots and latex top with a pierced belly button.

Don't get me wrong here. I have no problem with people who fancy crotchless rubber suits, or pony tails sticking out from their bottoms. I don't fancy it myself but I do understand that some people do, and I understand that they like it as much as I like the thought of being undressed against my will (chuckles) by a powerful and handsome stranger.

It is just that I sometimes question my honesty when I avoid talking about my dislikes out of fear of alienating absolutely lovely people who may have a kink I find to be a turn off.

I will try to say this as clearly as I can. I have no problems with kinks and fantasies I don't like. I am more than happy to talk about fantasies for fantasies sake with you, even if you imagine I am dressed in rubber from head to toe, while doing it. I love to talk about fantasies, good or bad.

And to be perfectly honest, I don't know why I am writing this blogpost. I guess it is because I want to be honest, maybe even write about my dislikes but I don't want to be judgemental. I suppose there is no getting away from it. When you write something down it gets a kind of authority I sometimes find a little intimidating.

I still think you are the best readers I could ever have imagined.

After Story Blues?

Dear Readers, as you may have noticed, I haven't been blogging much, lately. I don't really know why. It's just that my mind hasn't been set on travelling through fantasy land for a while. Reality – or what to call it – demands my attention, I have felt a kind of distance to fantasies, especially of the kinkier sort.

I feel a little fed up with my stories and my constant returning to the same themes. How many times can you vary a spanking story? I have spoken about darker thoughts but when I sit down to write they don't transfer to words on the screen.

Maybe I am blocking my own mind, maybe I am scared? I don't know. I do love writing still but I do love kinds of writing that don't always seem to fit this blog. Sometimes when I read stories I have written I can feel that I really like parts of them, enjoy a description of a person or the interaction between characters. Sometimes I find the spanking or the naughtiness it leads to a bit alien to the rest of the story.

I have become more and more focussed on the underlying emotions, the mindset that makes people do the things they do in kinky stories. Like I am fascinated by dependence, vulnerability and even submission but not necessarily in the dungeon of some master or mistress but rather in everyday relationships.

The truth is that I don't know what I want to do with this blog at the moment. I know, for sure, that my mind will return to the thrill of fantasies but at the moment there is a kind of low in that area. I want to continue writing, to continue exploring my thoughts and emotions but in areas that are a bit removed from the fantasy worlds I have come to share with you, dear Readers.

I know all this sound very dramatic but don't take me too seriously, please. I just feel that I have tendency to keep a distance, to talk through my stories rather than address you directly. I thought I should talk to you and tell you what is really on my mind, at least regarding the blog.

This blog is about fantasies, not about stories and if you want, I would very much want to hear from you, about those fantasies, what they mean to you, what you think they are trying to tell you, how they work, what's important in them. They are important, we all know that.

I have been blogging for almost three years now and it has been a great time. I see no reason to stop now but I know I have to figure out what I want to do with it all, the writing and the blogging.

I promise I will post any stories or thoughts that are suitable for the blog, or perhaps even if they aren't. Even if my mind is a little empty at the moment, I will not abandon the blog. Take care.

Hello

I am back. Hope you have had a nice time while I was away. It is a strange experience coming back from a holiday like this. I am not at all in the mood for everyday life. This will be a short blog post. Anyway, I am glad to be back.

I read a book while on holiday. It's called Sexual Deviation by Anthony Storr and was published in 1964. Kind of interesting to read about the view on those things, 45 years ago.

It is so easy to be superior and laugh at a book like that. Homosexuality is a deviation and is analysed, the author trying to find the reasons for it. I assume you agree with me when I am thinking that the question is the wrong one. Considering the behaviour of our closest relatives, the Bonobos, the question should not be, 'why are some homosexual?' but rather 'why are so many exclusively hetero- and homosexual?'

There was an interesting part about Sadism and Masochism. Thing is with this book that although it was very old fashioned and PC for that time, some of the observations are interesting. There is this thought that being a Masochist you long for being a child again, when you were cared for and had no power over what happened to you. This rings true to some extent.

I know there is a reluctance about explaining or discussing reasons for various kinks within the 'community'. I think that is a little short sighted. I know analysing the reasons, may open up for the thought that there is something wrong with enjoying spanking or being submissive, but not doing it, is burying your head in the sand. I think there are reasons for the way we behave but that doesn't mean it has to be wrong and should be explained away.

I think, at least for me, there is a kind of truth in the idea that being submissive is, partly, longing for being as helpless as a child. Enough analysis now, just wanted to say that although that book was prejudiced and old fashioned I couldn't just dismiss it.

Maybe that is the reason why, in fantasies, the longing for submission is total, maybe that is the reason why I, sometimes, have this desire for being completely and utterly submitted and even degraded and humiliated. Maybe they are signs of that utter helplessness you may experience as a child, a vulnerability that isn't a bad thing, but something you enjoy. Are you with me, still?

When it comes to blogging and writing I feel more and more that I am not so interested in writing yet another spanking story. I have lost my heart for it, at least for the moment. When it comes to fantasies and kink, I feel that I am drawn to more darker sides. And having written that, I become uncertain, because there are lots of more romantic stories in my head too and some about more subtle things.

Anyway, we'll see what will happen. I am a little disappointed, though, that no one commented on the picture in the last post. I think it is very nice. There is a kind of everyday sense to it, just an ordinary person lowering their trousers feeling the touch of a stick, waiting to be whipped. Something about that lack of glamour and stylishness that appeals to me.

Kink?

What does it mean? The word, what does it mean to you and what does it mean to me?

But before I say anything about that I will say sorry for not blogging so much. My mind seem to have been occupied with other things and I have not really known what to blog about. I guess that such is life, but I do feel a little bad if some of you have been waiting for something to appear here.

And I will be disappearing again at the end of this week and won't be able to blog until August. The upside is that I think it is good to stay away from computers at times and I think I need that. I have found sitting by a monitor all day long quite stressful lately. Just to let you know.

So, back to kink. The dictionary speaks of knots or bends in a rope, something that is no longer straight. I suppose it is that meaning that leads to the idea of the sexual perverse. Yes, I use that expression because so does Oxford English Dictionary. Furthermore it mentions homosexuality. I am not saying this to rant about stuffy old lexicographers. It is just that it seems as if the meaning changes and most likely is quite individual.

No one in their right mind would say that being gay is kinky. Not in this day and age. So the focus changes. But what does it mean? Is it kinky to be aroused by push-bikes? I don't know.

I think, for me, there has to be this edge to it, the addition to if being bad. When someone says kink I think of spankings and being tied up, dominance and submission, arrogance and cruelty. (No this is not the time for the discussion whether submission and dominance as such have to be bad...it can be bad and that is enough for me at the moment.)

Kink for me doesn't just mean the 'sexually deviant' (had to put the quotation marks there...smiles) but it means something that is bad and, thus, problematic.

Hope you are with me still. I am not saying people who spank each other for mutual pleasure are bad. I am saying that spankings, originally had a place in a society that oppressed people and that it was used for that purpose. Same with slavery. I am sure you see the pattern, none here would say that slavery is good but still we can find the idea of slave markets, being chained on a podium, put up for sale, to be immensely exciting.

I guess, for you, as for me, the word has taken on a more positive value than it had originally. I think people in general proudly speak of their kink when they embrace their lifestyle.

This brings me to another thing I wanted to write about. I feel, sometimes there is a kind of cosiness about kink, that people who have admitted to themselves they are aroused by things that some others would consider perverse, seem to work hard to normalise their kink. There is, almost, a political, perhaps even personal need to make kink acceptable.

Believe me, I am all for that. I really think that anyone should have the right to indulge their love for push-bikes or whips as long as they don't harm anyone. I agree completely with the politics in it.

The reason why I rant about it here is that I still, after all this time, find it problematic to admit that I do find the idea of being humiliated or whipped arousing. To me it still stands for something bad, something I don't really want happen. I can't just say: 'Hi, I am Janice and I am spanko, I would really like you to smack my bottom'. Simply because I would most likely not want it. It hurts, after all, and I am not that keen on pain.

Had I found it just an expression of my personality, a part of my own sexuality I was truly happy about I wouldn't be blogging. It is the very fact that I have mixed feelings that makes me write. I think.

So, thank you for listening and if I don't blog again this week, see you in August. Take care and be kind to yourself. Embrace your kinks and be proud of who you are. I am trying to do that myself.

My Imagination

My imagination is a lush forest, a clear blue sky, sparkling stars and sweet water. It is a land, a continent, a whole world or several worlds where I travel when I want to.

I can let myself fly through the lands and look down on emerald forests, and gleaming rivers running through the land, and endless blue seas. It is a world of beauty and grandeur, pristine and primeval in places, where thoughts grow freely and in abundance.

Imagination is a place of immense beauty but also of passion and terror and lust and desire. There are people there, of course, and people can be both sweet and cruel.

Between the green canopies of gigantic trees you may spot a woman walking, a proud and beautiful redhead, naked and with her hands tied in front of her. She is leashed to a horse where a man is riding. He is the hero and she the heroine and in this world she is his captive. She is his woman, bound and naked, and all is well.

On the coasts there are splendid cities with gleaming spires and shining pagodas where ancient and strange gods are worshipped by delightful women with glittering dark eyes. In those cities slavers and warriors sit in taverns and brag and revel, staring with desire at the servant girls hurrying between the tables, clad in almost nothing, all there for the pleasure of those brutes.

Imagination is not a place of eternal happiness. No, passion and pain fill the lives of brutes and slaves and not every woman is happy about being captured and not every man is a good man.

It is a brutal world where a woman may find herself stripped and in chains on the slaver's market before she knows it. And although she knows she belongs there, and longs to be there she has to endure the unfairness of it all.

It is a world of passion and pain as well as desire and lust and love and compassion. It is not a dead world. They are all alive. And despite the hardship and the cruelty they are all living and breathing and being alive. In their hearts they know that living is good and there is beauty in all aspects of life.

But this land is greater than that. There are modern cities too, where people live lives that look like ours, they work and commute and go to restaurants and watch telly. It is just an illusion, because those people know too, in their hearts, that this world is a good place to live, and they can live without fear. And when passion takes them, they can say yes to that which may seem cruel and unpleasant but really touches their souls.

The girl who follows the arrogant bastard to his place, having been touched and groped by him, may fear him when he takes out his whip and demands her to undress, but she never fears life. She may be terrified by the pain and the humiliation but in the end it makes her feel alive.

It is an honest world. When people love, they love with passion and truth and they trust the love they get and give. In this world you may want to hurt the one you love without ever ceasing to love. A lash with a whip may be a sign of affection and a rope around someone's wrists may indicate belonging.

But there are dark places in this world of imagination. Places that are not as easy to spot as the sun drenched vistas of endless forests and rivers. There are dark alleys and ruined castles and derelict buildings. And there are perfectly beautiful places but were cruelty lives. In those dark places strange things happen. Things that are hard to explain and understand.

To those places people go to be humiliated, shamed and hurt and they go without knowing why. They are drawn there, like moths to the fire, and they want to turn their heads but still they return.

In those dark places a whip can be wielded with the intent of hurting, really hurting and someone may take pleasure in someone else's fear or shame. A girl can be raped and abused and used and although she hates it she cannot avoid it, doesn't want to avoid it.

Imagination stretches into space, where the awe of eternity boggles your mind and the distance between the stars are so immense that the mind cannot grasp it.

But the endless vistas of space aren't empty. No, there travels ships of different shapes and sizes and empires are created and lost and passion makes people fight and love.

Scantily clad space empresses and princesses look upon the travellers with sparkling eyes where the cold eternity of space lies and men fight with swords and rayguns to do their biddings.

In the world of imagination there is also immense sweetness. The lovers lie in each others arms, looking out over the sea while the mild breeze ruffles their hair. There is true love and true passion, not hindered by jealousy and fear. In this world you can love with all your heart and all your body and know that you are alive.

Imagination is a place of contradiction, life and passion, cruelty and sweetness. It is all I want it to be but also much more. There lies my fears and my desires and things I don't want to see but are there all the same.

I cannot describe it, not fathom it. I can only glimpse it, get a fleeting vision of it. And what I can't do, is to describe it, not all of it. What I know is this: I would be nothing without it.

Scenes and Settings, part 3

I thought I should continue my blogging about scenes and settings. We tend to be quite similar when it comes to that, don't you think? Often when I write of some setting I find particularly interesting I find that I share it with others. Maybe it all follows a pattern and we all think we are unique while we are just parts of something bigger.

Or maybe there are something general in those scenes that speak to our minds. Like there are historical or at least possible scenes that evoke something within us that is easily transformed into fantasies. The slave market is an obvious choice, it is degrading and speaks to our sense of unfairness. In a world that publicly shuns objectification of women, especially as sexual beings (here is the hypocrisy, though, never before has the world been so full of exposed female bodies, that are there for the pleasure of the viewer), the fantasy about a time and a place when a woman was an object you could buy and sell seems alluring, maybe because it provokes our good taste. Perhaps it is because it is about the public display of bodies, the objectification of women that makes us go there, that makes it forbidden and exciting.

I know that some out there likes to turn it around, to have a man be the focus of attention. I know this. But this is my blog so I simplify it a bit. For me there is always a woman being sold or whipped or whatever she is subjected to.

Another of those scenes that lends itself well to fantasies is the public punishment of criminals. There is a plethora of scenes and settings that fascinates us. Is it because someone is exposed to public shame and agony we like it? A real public punishment was surely a gruesome event but in our mind we take away from it some of the forbidden fascination and transform it into a fantasy.

I bet there were more men who were publicly whipped than women but in fantasy land it is often a woman who is there, tied to some whipping post being treated with a whip. In fantasy land she has no right to retain any decency. No she is brutally stripped naked, so it becomes a scene with one person stripped and exposed in front of the many and subjected to a cruel punishment.

We take something that has some roots in reality and transform it into a scene from fantasy. The shame is accentuated by being naked, the excruciating pain becomes passion and arousal.

A very typical scene, at least in my mind, is the public square, in some medieval town. There is a scaffold with a whipping post. There is a crowd, hungry for the spectacle to come. There is a man, in mask. A strong man, muscles shining in the sun, boots, a broad leather belt and a vicious whip in his hand. He is the Man. He becomes the symbol of male power, the ruthless lover, the one who takes but gives nothing back.

There are also other men, grim and old; the magistrate, the judges, the ones who judge and decide on the punishment. They are not attractive. They are cruel and ugly and cold. They are there to see that the punishment is carried out according to the law. They are the men who have the power.

Then there is the woman, the heroine, the criminal, the one deserving the punishment. She is helpless and vulnerable and have no means of protection, even the law wants to see her suffer. The crowd wants to see her suffer, the judges want to see her suffer.

On my medieval square she is stripped naked, her flimsy dress is ripped from her body and she is tied to the pole. The Man, the masked man with the whip steps forward and the crowd falls silent.

This was not supposed to be about what happens. It was about the setting, the scene. You have to do what you like with this. I am done describing it now. Maybe I return someday to write a story.

What about mutuality, that thing we really need to have for it not to become really cruel. I think this woman, in her heart, really fancies the Man with the whip, and somewhere deep inside she gets a thrill from having her clothes ripped off and whipped senseless. As I said, the pain transforms to passion in fantasy land, passion and arousal, and maybe more.

Naughty Thoughts Tumbling in My Head

This blog contains a lot of stories but I started it as a blog about fantasies, where I could talk about them, describe them and reflect on them. I have done that a little and I will return to it.

If there is one thing I am good at, it is to get ideas. I have more ideas to stories and events and relationships than I have time to write them down and work with. Not all of them naughty of course but a good many of them are. So here is a scene, half a fantasy, half an idea, something that I could use in a story, perhaps, a little surreal but I don't mind that.

There is a bar in a club or something similar, a place where young people go to meet, dance, connect and be naughty in. At the bar there are a man and woman. They are around twenty, that age when you can be miserable but if you are confident you can see the world open up before you.

He is an ordinary guy, young handsome, dressed in trousers and shirt untucked, covering in the uniform of young men. He is a little cocky, confident in himself.

The woman is blond, ponytail, dressed in jeans and spaghetti strap top. She is like most young women, aware of herself, her body, and she is confident enough to know she is attractive but she doesn't feel the need to dress up and show off.

They sit at the bar with their drinks and they look at each other, he stares and she smiles. They connect in that way that sometimes happen, two people find they have a common goal or something like that.

There is a context to this scene. This man is discovering a very naughty side of himself and is doing bold and daring things and has got a reputation for putting his hand down girls' knickers and even worse.

The girl knows this. She has a naughty side too although it may be expressed in different ways.

Anyway, what happens is that they strike up a conversation and during that she asks him what he is thinking. He is daring enough to tell her that he is thinking that he would want to spank her bottom. Her response is something like 'I thought you'd never ask'.

But instead of developing this into a spanking story, I imagine her alluding to his reputation for pulling down knickers and that sort of thing and he says something about it being hard when someone is wearing jeans.

Then she asks if it won't be easier if she was standing and then she stands up and approaches him. He can't back down now, can he? So he reaches out his hands and unbuttons her jeans. She doesn't protest.

He continues and yanks her jeans and her knickers down. Some people in the bar starts staring at them but no one interferes. Maybe it is like when you are a little tipsy and see something but not really believe what you see.

When he has pulled her jeans and knickers down a bit he puts his hands between her legs and lets a finger slip into her. She doesn't protest but lets it happen, in view of everyone around.

Then he asks her if she wants to dance with him.

I am interested in both parties. They are two fascinating characters. He is a man who is discovering his power, his fascination for spanking and taking control of girls. In this parallel world all girls he meet are happy for him to be in command and they all long to be spanked...of course.

The girl, of course, she has this longing for submitting to another person, she is daring enough to accept it being done in public, being humiliated in public. She is confident to not back down and be ashamed of her desires.

Right, this is just a sketch.

Sweet Fantasies

I do have a very romantic view of sex, immature I think it would be correct to call it. I am who I am and this is not the place to fret about that. I am a hopeless romantic and it is time to accept that.

I am, however, not going to talk about romantic fantasies about all consuming love. No, I will stick to my fantasies about submission and nudity and such things.

Sometimes when I am in the mood I like to transport myself to some fantasy land that is breathtakingly beautiful, full of untouched nature and cities like pearls on the green emerald lands that span the continents between deep blue seas full of mysteries and dangers.

And there I wouldn't mind being a slave, sitting on the marble benches of the terrace of some palace, overlooking the azure waters of the endless sea. Behind me there are mountains that stretch to the sky, with feet covered in lush jungles.

It is not bad being a slave in that palace, the personal property of some princess, perhaps, or a king. I am beautiful, of course, a slender girl with emerald eyes, my long flowing red hair caught by the wind.

I am a slave. My neck is encircled by an unyielding but still delicate iron collar, locked in place, impossible for me to remove. Maybe I am even manacled, new to the palace, still needing to be kept in place.

I sit naked on the marble bench, my sweet body full on display. But it doesn't matter, the wind is smooth and mild and the sun makes it pleasant to be unclad. A slave is kept naked, to show her who she is, so that she knows she is there to please, to be something to look upon, to delight her owners with her looks.

That fantasy is sweet. It is delightful to be that naked girl. The sensation is sensual rather than sexual. A sweet slave may delight with her body and she may have to serve, that is true but the pleasure of being her, is not that of the prospect of intense lovemaking or the passion of pain when whipped. No, this is a relaxed, calm sensation, a sense of being lovely and sweet and knowing that life is not so bad in the soft wind from the sea and below the warming sun in this delightful land.

There is a sense of being safe and secure in being that slave girl. I know my place, I know where I belong. I don't have to decide, don't have to be responsible for anything. I can enjoy being someone who may please, not only with her actions but with her presence, her mere existence.

You know me now, to some extent. There are always mixed feelings in my stories, pleasure and pain, joy and dread. This is not like that. This is all nice. I would like to be that girl and I think it would be sweet to be her. And I know she can only exist in a delightful fantasy like this.

The picture was made by someone who calls himself Grigbertz (yes, I know it is a he).

Scenes and Settings, part 2

Before I go into that I will have to tell you that I am moving flat and since moving a landline with associated broadband connection is something immensely complicated in UK I will be cut off from the Web for some time. How long I don't know.

Anyway, this is part 2 and part 1 was the post before this; Back to Basics. Anyway, I am going to be a little predictable and tell you about another favourite setting for fantasies and naughty thoughts. The one I am going to talk about is the slave market.

I know, you have all been there, either as onlookers, buyers or merchandise. My slave market is almost always set in a very hot country, vaguely Middle Eastern. There is a desert and a town with a bazaar and all that.

To this town I arrive in the company of some man (or men) in a burnous. All the details are not set but I may be wearing something similar or perhaps just a cloak swept around me. I walk on bare feet. That is one of those things that work in fantasies but is not so nice in the real world. Sand can be very hot. I have an iron collar around my neck. Of course, I am the merchandise.

It is a chilly morning but I know it will be a hot day. If you have ever been to a Mediterranean country you know what I am talking about. There is a certain smell in the air. You know it is going to be immensely hot but it is still a bit cold.

We are early and the square where the market is being held is almost empty. Not only slaves are sold here. Some early risers set up shop, some spread their wares on rugs on the ground while others have tables. The man and I are walking towards the part where slaves are displayed. Along one side of the square a set of sturdy poles are set in the ground. There you can bind your slave and display her to prospective buyers.

When we arrive I have to take the cloak off and, of course, I am naked underneath it. I shiver in the chilly morning but the man takes no notice. He doesn't have to tie me to the pole. Instead I have to stand beside it and display myself for the buyers.

The day becomes hotter and the square fills up with people. The market is underway. There is a lot of posing and having to stand in certain ways and even kneeling. And some of the buyers want to examine the merchandise. There is prodding and groping and squeezing and touching. Some of them can be quite intimate in their examinations.

There is a certain shame in that, being touched and groped by strangers who don't even have to buy you. I am only a naked slave and can do nothing but display myself.

Eventually someone comes along and buys me. But that is, really, another fantasy.

Then there is the classical slave auction. Here I find myself standing on a dais or similar and there is a many headed crowd of people in front of me, looking at me, bidding for me, or just looking. They are safe in the crowd, clad and free and can enjoy the spectacle. I am not. I am naked and exposed and seen by everyone.

But there is a certain pride in this, strangely enough. Of course I am very beautiful and of course the bids are high. I will sell for a high price. Not that it benefits me but I have the pride of being valuable.

This is part of the sense of being a slave and being sold, that you are not going to gain anything from it. Someone has taken you and will get the money. This is very unfair but such is life for a poor slave.

Back to Basics

That is what I want with this blog, to return to what it is about. This blog is about fantasies and mostly about my fantasies. I like it to be a meeting place for people with minds full of exciting fantasies but I started it and I will write about my fantasies. There is no contradiction in this.

I was thinking about my fantasies and especially settings. I am a little inspired by a blog entry at Wystan's blog, where he wrote about his favourite settings.

I too have favourite settings although they are not as important to me as they once were. I thought that I would just mention some of them and how they fit in, in the overall chaos of my fantasy life.

There seems always to be a mansion, a manor house or something of the kind. This is a place for well mannered and self indulgent older men with a rich social life. I often enter these scenes as a woman, considerably younger than this man, who sees him as someone worthy of bowing too. I am not always sure how I ended up in his house but I am always in awe of his power.

The action in those scenes often takes place in the library. I do love libraries. There is elegance and style in the setting and this room is always a lovely room. There are velvet hangings and dark colours overall. There is always a nice Persian rug and a fireplace with a nice fire burning.

In this setting the lord of the manor decides to show off his power over me and this always means kneeling, baring the body and some serious whipping with a horsewhip or something similar. This is not the place for a cosy smacking of bottom in the lap of an understanding and loving man. No this is the place for some rather harsh treatment.

There is always a kind of ritual that includes undressing in stages, preparing the scene and the fetching of instrument used for whipping. It is all formal, all held back and there is often an audience, elegantly dressed and fascinated but polite.

All what happens within you, when you go through this ritual, is hidden or almost hidden. There is the baring of the body, allowing the onlookers to see all your reactions. The slightest movement in the body is there to be seen.

There is a certain cruelty present, in that your Master, the lord of the manor, explains why and how you are going to be punished and that he is very clear about how to maximise your suffering, talking about how the baring of your body is to make you feel humiliated and make the whip bite harder. He may even whip a cushion in front of your eyes to make you think about how it will be when your naked skin is the target.

There is no calling names, no 'young lady, you have been naughty' or that sort of thing. No it is all very calm and collected and although you have to strip naked and kneel to be whipped there is a certain kind of dignity to it.

There is the dreaded arousal, of course, the one you don't want, the one you don't need. And since you are naked it will all show. They will know. They will not comment but they will know.

Afterwards no one abuses you but they are all very happy having witnessed your whipping and they want to look at your body and are quite pleased to see the marks. They may congratulate your Master for a well performed whipping. There is no hostility towards you but there is neither any sympathy.

Oh, I get carried away. Maybe I will do this into a series of entries.

There is another location at the manor that is of interest. It is the stable. Your lord and master may have ordered you to go to the rough men in the stable to receive a punishment.

You do feel very small and very humiliated having to endure such a disgrace. Those men are rough and only too eager to humiliate you. They know exactly what to do and there are no rituals here. No, you have to strip off at their command and hurry with it. You may be tied to pillar or maybe lean over some bales or crates. And the whipping will be severe.

They will not spare you. They are brutes and they know how to use a whip. These men may take the opportunity to fondle you and grope you a little so you have to endure their rough hands on your exposed body. They won't have you, the Master won't allow it but they may touch and they may talk about you.

This is just a start. There are more scenes. This is the problem with me, I get carried away.

Consent

Dear Readers, I am truly sorry for not blogging last week. Life has been busy, mostly good things but some bad ones too. Life is like that, isn't it? Bad and good things, in a mix. Now, I am trying to sound philosophical. I will leave that immediately. Anyway, I will try to blog twice a week.

Last entry in my blog made me think. Some people pointed out that they weren't at all excited by the image and there were some interesting discussions. Wilhelmina pointed out that she needed consent for it to be arousing.

Consent is important. It is crucial for all sorts of real life activity – at least of the kind of kinky varieties we are dealing with here. It is so important that it is really easy for me to state that spanking, for example, is wrong unless both parties agree. This makes it wrong, wrong, wrong to spank children. And I am not going to accept the argument that a child may choose between different kinds of punishments and thus consent to a spanking. That is just a silly argument.

No, I am not inviting you to discuss spanking of children. This area is a complete no no for me and I will not enter into any arguments. Full stop.

Back to my point. I do think consent is crucial in real life and it makes for good stories. There is so much to explore regarding that. And I do think most of my stories are about consent or some kind of accepting what is happening.

I still think the mind is allowed to roam more freely. There is something intriguing in non consensual situations, or situations when someone is forced to accept what happens to them.

What I am trying to say, is that there is something very sweet about stories about consensual situations, romantic meetings that have a kinky edge and all that. You should know by now that I do like that. But there is also something fascinating with something a tad crueller and I think we should allow that to happen in our fantasies and in our stories.

I think I am preaching for the converted but I wanted to say this anyway.

Fantasies

So, here is something I have been meaning to ask you, dear Readers. I may be a bit preoccupied with fantasies and the role they play in my life. I can't help being fascinated and intrigued. I get the impression, sometimes, that fantasies have a different function for some people I communicate with.

So, my question to you is this. What are fantasies to you? Are they just a nice pastime, something you do when you have nothing else to do? Or are they something you use to, well, get in the mood, whether you are alone or with someone? Is it part of your lifestyle, something that fills you day? In short what role do fantasies play in your life, how important are they?

I will leave it at that and hope for some replies. Take care dear Readers! And be kind to yourself!

Back

I am back. Have you missed me? I am sure you are perfectly happy in your life with or without my blog. I know you read what I write and those of you who come back must like some of it. Some tell me they like what I write and that is very, very, very nice to hear.

I have not written much during holiday, at least not much for the blog. I took a break from that too. I have been thinking a little about what I want with this blog. I know what I want but not sure where to go.

I want this blog to be about fantasies, and especially those that are a little hidden and forbidden. This is a contradiction in itself. They are not very hidden if they end up on a blog but to me that was my motivation, the very reason for blogging. I wanted to have a go at letting others know what could roam in a person's head and see how weird it really was. It turned out to be not weird at all. In fact a lot of my very personal and private fantasies seem to chime well with a lot of other people's fantasies. That is amazing.

I should have known after having read some stories on the Web but still there is this strange sense that 'why am I so preoccupied with this or that detail?' To this day, you, dear Readers, have been very enthusiastic about my silly details and that is a very good thing. That which sometimes bothers me and makes me blush is not necessary the hideous fact that I have fantasies about getting my bottom smacked but that I get very excited at the thought of some silly details, such as the sensation of clothes gliding over skin or that sort of thing. Sometimes the tiny, silly and sweet details are more embarrassing than the really kinky ones.

So, I will stop there and say that I am pleased to be back, not sure what I will put on the blog in the future, would very much like to know what you think about fantasies and that I will post stories whenever I feel I have one good enough for the blog.