PQ 9.6 — Are decisions about my actions or access to my body being made without my involvement or consent?
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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.
Siren Silk #
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.
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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.
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This post is part of a series in which I answer each of the chapter-end questions in More than Two with an essay. For the entire list of questions & answers, please see this indexed list.