I have lived this axiom, feigning a deep attraction to a lady simply because she agrees to indulge me; or, worse yet, with those women I am attracted to, I squeeze my desperation for my fetish past even respectable bounds even beyond, shamed to admit though I will here, the lady's own desires. I'm not embarrassed about what I need—I do not engage in any illegal activity (nor would I ever) and I only ever engage myself sexually with consenting adults, I even walk the heterosexual side of the street-but I fear my ache for this one thing growing like the classic 'marijuana gateway drug' scenario. I wonder, will there come a time when I've grown ever too dependant on my fantasy that I won’t be able to enjoy regular, everyday, ‘normal’ sexual activities (have I reached that point already?) Will I become ever more isolated in my own head, disconnecting from my lovers even more then I fear I already do? Will I seek deeper kinkier diversions to satisfy my jaded lust?
When I was twelve or thirteen, I stumbled across a Sunday comic showing a secretary "getting back at her boss". The four panels showed various moments of the cartoon lady’s imagined retribution but the one panel that stuck-out in my mind then (and still does to this day) was of the woman stinging her boss in the bottom with a cattle prod; I poured over that picture for days. Then there was the wooden paddle my best friends' mom had hanging in their kitchen, a gift given to her as a joke, indicating on its wide wooden front how many swats in return for what childhood offense; I stared lovingly at the instrument every single time I was in my best friend's kitchen.
I had no idea why all these images and totems charged me, but even before I was masturbating, I was transfixed by any hint, off-handed remark or possibility of female domination. We all have early responses to stimuli I know, but I realize now these were the little stone markers being laid on the newly cut path of my sexual awareness…and my fetish. In my early teens, even college years, my fantasies weren't much more elaborate then thoughts of being tied down or lying across a girl’s knees while she cooed a scolding and spanking over me. If I happened on a girl who would indulge me, I still wasn't seasoned enough in what I would come to learn is called 'femdom' to know all the various 'scenes' one could enact or the items that could be purchased for this play.
But I grew in my knowledge and experience.
I’d like to believe that I showed the women I have been with a good time. I’d like to think I was an attentive lover, maybe not the best but certainly better then most. I recall a rather amazing variety of partners, a cast of enticing girls/women/ladies whom I was mostly wildly attracted to (most, if not all these girls/women/ladies knew of my desire to be spanked, quite a few indulged me and even those that wouldn't, never judged me). The regret I coddle comes from the fact that I fear my fetish was (is) so pervasive that in some way I ignored potential intimacy that might have made things better. I can't help but wonder did I let it all carry me away a little too much, that the fact that I could get what I wanted made the getting of it my top priority.
It's good to give yourself a little wake-up call from time to time.