PQ 9.6 — Are decisions about my actions or access to my body being made without my involvement or consent?
Submitting to Ganon
My earliest fantasies were all about pleasing someone else.
It didn’t matter so much who they were. They were nebulous, dark, selfish. Like the shadowy figure of Ganon on the Zelda 2 Game Over screen. The one who’d laugh when you died.
That was the funny thing, really. In my fantasies, I was at this lover’s mercy, and yet they were faceless and interchangeable. But one thing I could see clearly? Was me.
I didn’t grow up in a house where I had the luxury of standing naked for very long before mirrors. A closed door bore suspicion. “What are you doing in there?” And forget about sleeping with your door closed. “What if there were a fire?”
So I stole as much time as I could in the shower and the tub, running my hands over my shape. Watching my body become a more serpentine landscape. The treacherous curves of an Italian sports car.
I got off specifically on the idea that I could make anyone happy if I tried hard enough. Like those shapeshifting alien love slaves. The ones who appear beautiful to anyone who gazes on them.
I wanted to entice like a siren. Drawing lovers in like softer, yielding things: Water, silk.
But it wasn’t approval that thrilled me. No, it was power. The quiet, accrued power that would result from becoming someone’s addiction.
Fantasy Versus Reality
When I got into kink much later, this fantasy predictably reemerged. I was excited by service, by pleasing others. Or really, pleasing one other person. I learned early on that it was easy for me to surrender my body to one person at a time, a Dominant. But it was never anything I could do lightly. It was always on a foundation of established trust.
And despite the fact that I discovered the kink scene after becoming formally polyamorous, I couldn’t envision having two dominants at once.
I had fun with my very first Dom Rob, but when his wife Michelle decided that meant she could order me around, too? Well, I was having none of that.
I discovered through my explorations that the target did matter. It wasn’t just about me. I didn’t want my Dom to lend me out like I was a possession. What had seemed hot in fantasy turned my stomach in reality.
Being given away to someone else for sex (or longer service), an edgy kink to a lot of submissive types, was something I just didn’t want.
Part of me wants to be that sex service alien, perfectly pleasing. Gladly making sacrifices of any cost.
But a larger part of me wants to have worth. So I don’t want to be given away. I always want to have a choice.