Sunday, March 1, 2009

Not really a post on objectification

I meant to write a post today.

A nice long discussion of objectification.

I've been thinking about it lately. The Irishman came back on Friday night. He phoned at 12:45 in the morning, asking if I was (available? willing?) to service him. I had been asleep. I said yes, of course, and he was there in 15 minutes.

There was something so sexy about being woken up like that.

He had that look. His crooked smile was gone, his expression now set and stern. I was wearing the slave shirt I had been sleeping in. We went to the bedroom, he turned off the light, told me to kneel, took out his cock, and fucked my mouth. His cock is fat, I didn't notice last time, I kept gagging, and in the end I was drooling saliva and cum.

He came with a roar. I wonder if my housemate heard.

He stood there for a minute or two, my head leaning against his leg. And then he left.

I was content.

I was smiling.

And I've been thinking of how this nice man needs to reduce me to a trio of orifices, and of how the sadist is training me to be dragged down into degraded depths of objectification, and of how I want it and am happy.

Very odd...

But I'm sick and I'm tired so I will write more on this within the next few days. I've been discussing it with my demon muse and with the philosopher (who to my great relief is not disgusted by my attraction to being used in this way), and welcome any comments on the matter in advance of my full-scale post.

I'm especially interested in anyone's experiences with objectification in service to compartmentalization i.e. a way for the dom(me) to reduce the submissive/slave to a thing so as not to risk an emotional connection that could threaten a primary, possibly vanilla relationship.

Thanks for any comments and now I'm taking my feeble brain to bed. My mother says that I shouldn't go to work tomorrow because my throat is sore. Maybe she can fax over a note?

3 comments:

mina said...

I have never been used purely as an object. Sure, sometimes Sylvanus objectifies me, but I think that hardly counts since he and I are in a relationship. There is something arousing about having someone just use me.

oatmeal girl said...

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I also wanted to say that I give you mucho kudos for your ability to
thrive under the Irishman's terms for a relationship. I'm too
emotional to be truly objectified. I simply must have a connection to
someone. Just sex? That I could handle as I've done that & enjoyed it at the time. But when BDSM is involved, so, too, is my heart. *sigh* ahhhh, yes - my submissive/masochistic nature shows, for I must love to suffer & to serve.

Of course, if as I write this I realize if I'm to be completely
"objective" or "academic" about the matter, if what he wanted was pure
objectification, he would not want one person, he would simply return
to craigslist to find any number of willing women to be used, abused,
and tossed away like a crumpled food wrapper, after having consumed
its contents, crumbs still clinging to its folds.

Yet, I am realizing that to be willing to be objectified takes
vulnerability. And I'm unwilling to be that vulnerable without some
assurance from another that I am more than an object. A curious
cycle, no? As I said, kudos to you. That kind of a relationship with BDSM overtones is too frightening for even a painslut like me.

oatmeal girl said...

mina, the philosopher and I discussed this yesterday. We had explored ideas of objectification, but in a different way e.g. an extended fantasy about using me as an alarm clock. I think he remembers the details better than I do. All part of our bent towards performance art... but nothing like this. Yet there was certainly a clear hint of my interest in the story Holes for rent, which seemed horribly dark at the time. But perhaps it has more to do with the character of the relationship and of the individuals, even if there is in fact love involved.