Beyond My Control: Forbidden Fantasies in an Uncensored Age (4 page)

Cara

When I had my first menstrual period, the only thing I remember my mom telling me was that it was really important that I clean myself thoroughly. I know she was only concerned that I not get an infection, but I wonder, was that when I started to feel that the whole process was dirty and I wanted no part of it?

About my sexual life, I have all these ideas and fantasies but don’t ever act on them because just the thought of doing so makes me embarrassed. I guess I’m also worried that I would be rejected and laughed at. My parents were divorced when I was five, and we moved far away from my dad. He is not a very motivated person, so I didn’t see much of him when I was young. It took me a very long time to realize that I felt abandoned and rejected by him. I think that’s where the fear of rejection started. I was also being mentally, and possibly physically and sexually, abused by my mom’s boyfriend at the time, so that didn’t help. I’ve slept with about ten men and have only had rare, small orgasms. I’ve had relationships and casual sex flings, although

never one-night stands, and have yet to relax my guard enough to have a screaming orgasm.

I’ve also picked up this idea that the man’s pleasure is more important than mine. That means that I’m putting him in control while I have to stay in control. Is it any wonder that my fantasies center around a man, usually someone I know, staying in control of himself long enough to make me lose it? Someone who ignores my attempts to get him off and concentrates on me?

I have this one fantasy where I’m tied to a bed, and my lover comes in and brushes me with light touches, fleeting, never in the same place twice. He ignores the obvious places and touches me in spots I never knew were erotic. He continues this for hours, ignoring me as I beg him to untie me so I can move, touch him, anything. I can’t see what he’s doing, what he’s touching me with, where he’ll touch next, and I’m writhing on the bed. He does this until I have no choice but to cum. Then, he starts over again until I’ve had so many orgasms, I’m twitching and can’t move. After he’s done with me, he cuddles me until I fall asleep.

I hope that Cara will find the courage to investigate her full potential in a brave new world. Instead of people laughing, I believe she’ll discover that her fantasies are natural, not uncom- mon, and sought after.

Glory

I’m a thirty-one-year-old woman from Texas and was raised in a sexually free household. I love my body and the potential it creates

for me and for my partner. My body is mine to give. My sexuality is my independence; it is my strength from which my power and lust for life comes.

My grandma once wrote that as a child I was “confident, determined, not afraid, and eager to learn what the world held.” That world for me, I think, unlike other children, started with my body and moved outward. I can remember the intrigue, the fascination with my fingers, my breasts, my vagina, touching my breasts in the bath, caressing myself in bed.

“Mom,” I would ask, “Why is my vagina always covered up? Is it bad?”

“No,” she would say. “Think of it as your finger—something you should look at and be comfortable with.”

My parents, walking from their bedroom to the bathroom naked, playing with each other in the shower, letting my brother and me crawl around in their beds even when they were sleeping with only their skins to the sheets, instilled within me a peace with my body.

I like to touch myself and have for as long as I can remember. However, I have only been reaching orgasm through masturbation since I was a freshman in college. I don’t have long sexual fantasies. Mine are all rooted in people I know, people I can actually touch, want to touch, or have touched. It’s interesting that all of my fantasies are rooted in reality—I don’t usually want my fantasies to remain fantasies. Why do some women fantasize about the impossible and others fantasize about reality? What does this say about each “type” of woman?

My fantasies start with an image of a person, a flash of a familiar face, a smell of a certain man, a sound that recalls someone—and from there, my mind works. My fantasies range from my tying a man up and doing everything in my power to please him, to my taking the part of the “victim,” to both of us actively working to satisfy each other. The smells

of him. Eyes shut. Relaxed in bed. Licking toes, the tongue moves up the inside of my leg, the hands caress my inner thighs…I want to take those fantasies and make them a reality with that man.

F a N T a s i e s o F W o r s h i p

“I Live to Grovel”

With more single moms, boys are being raised without a man in their lives in whom they might see themselves, a person they might choose to emulate or not, a man with influence and power within the family. Can we be surprised that more men than ever automatically reach for the dominatrix?

Families are built upon rules, as in any society. Certainly, there were parental rules regarding sex when we were young and societal rules later on, though breaking them—stopping just short of “go- ing all the way”—carried a thrill that could make up for the guilt. Historically, mothers enforced the rules. In the most important years of their children’s lives, they laid down the “shall-nots”— some fair, some maybe not. Rules can create an atmosphere of safety, mental ropes that keep the child from “
falling off the edge,
” even when the child complains of feeling restricted. By control- ling their children’s lives through nurture and discipline, they were instilling not just love but fear/anxiety/trepidation should their rules be broken. These were the formative years. In the end, what mattered wasn’t that all the rules were obeyed but that they were there, something that you counted on. Even if you disliked them and disobeyed them occasionally, by their very existence, they made you feel safe. They were the constant boundaries

against which we fought. Boundaries we now use and break in fantasies to free ourselves to orgasm.

In fantasies of domination, we either enforce these rules/ boundaries or submit to them, sometimes pleading, “No, no, please, stop!” other times applauding, worshipping, “Thank you, thank you, Master/Mistress.”

The powers of invention have been worn out at the office, and both men and women find that the body lets go, relaxes, and warms up when the mind travels to images of being totally out of control. Jonathan, a married man whose wife is happy with sex once or twice a week, speaks of this yearning. “My fantasy is that when I arrive at the address of my lover, I must be prepared for complete submissiveness, ready to offer my whole mind and body to her, for she will teach me what she likes, and I must obey.”

“Forced” to let go of the “manly, man in charge, on top” role he inherited, he gives himself over to orgasm at the hands of a dominating woman.

Henry

Henry, a young interior designer who lives in Chicago, met his current girlfriend online by answering an ad looking for a “sub man.”

I was pretty nervous when we first met. I fantasized a long time about being with a hot dominant woman and read lots of ads, but this was the first one I answered. There was something about her authority saying, “I know what’s best for you.” We exchanged some pictures, and she said she was willing to meet me to see if I was worthy. We met at a bar in her area. It was kind of comforting the way she took control. I felt excited by it. She allowed me to go back with her to her house. When

we got there, she said, “Do not look at me unless I give you permission. Now, close your eyes when in my presence, and in the meantime, fix me a drink.” When I returned with her drink, she pushed me to the ground and pressed my face to the floor with her foot. She ordered me to undress, and while I did, she unbuttoned her dress from the bottom. She whispered, “Kneel and kiss my cunt.” I could feel a dewy drop of precum easing from my prick. I dropped to my knees and felt the increasing warmth of her sex and the convergence of her beautiful strong thighs as I eased my head between her legs.

I’ve asked her permission to marry her. So far, she hasn’t granted it. But I’m still hopeful. I would like to serve her for the rest of my life.

We’ve found that as one sex changes, the opposite sex adjusts, not necessarily moving in tandem. Certainly, men’s erotic fan- tasies of being dominated by women are more prevalent today than ever. Domination and submission seem to have become a game between men and women, a continuation from the nurs- ery to the office to the bedroom of either sex being submissive or controlling.

Men’s sexual arousal, imagining themselves groveling opposite the dominatrix (even after contending with bossy women in the workplace), was no doubt laid down in childhood, when the boy was malleable, soft clay. Many men are still reluctant to interfere with their wife’s domain. On some level he is probably afraid of her, too, as he was of his mother.

Men’s fantasies of female domination come in all shapes and sizes. Oscar, a Canadian man, twenty-five years old, says, “I have always found women in ‘power suits’ attractive—even more so

than in lingerie.” Many men and women write to me about sex- ual fantasies with authority figures, teachers, bosses, etc.

Sean

Forty-year-old Sean gives me a lighthearted account of being stripped and “pun- ished” by powerful women. There is no anger or resentment. There is no whisper of shame about these fantasies of submission to a woman. But then, they are confid- ing to a very sympathetic ear.

I only became aware of women’s sexual assertiveness in the workplace when I started working for a hospital. In this environment, women outnumber men, and they liked to embarrass me about my sexual performance. Once, a woman plopped a picture of a naked man with a huge schlong entertaining a fully clothed woman on top of my workstation. One of the female employees was an ardent feminist who didn’t like men. I think she enjoyed giving orders to men and trying to intimidate them. At one of the first meetings I attended, she took her shoes off and started rubbing my leg under my pants. I tried to ignore it, not only because I was married, but because I knew in the long run, it would mess with my job.

Boy, did I jerk off to that one. I’d fantasize that I’m asked to attend a meeting at work, the only man there in the department. After listening for two hours, my powerhouse female boss says, “We are going to do something different now.” She turns to me, “Have you ever heard of the concept of clothed females and nude males?”

“Yes,” I say.

“Well, the females are all clothed. Why aren’t you nude?” “Well,” I stammer.

“Off with the clothes.”

She says she wants my clothes off because, as her employee, I’m to give an honest evaluation of her work and the work of all her female coworkers. She wants the naked truth of how I worship them. If my worship is convincing, I will be allowed to orally satisfy my superiors. I grovel at each of their feet, praising them until they reveal their vaginas. With my tongue, I’m allowed to bring them to climax.

I have a similar fantasy with my wife where she has a women’s meeting and I end up the lone naked “guest.”