Licking the Toilet Clean : An Example

I don’t know that I’ve ever mentioned this one before. The source may have been some pervy tabloid long ago; I’m not sure.

It was of licking a toilet clean. No, not what you think.

It was of being ordered to lap up the dirt on the outside, the top and inside rim. Nothing within. Just a bit of dirt and hair.

Needs a shave doesn’t he?

The crazy version featured an entire summer camp of commodes.

Seems almost an innocent age ago.

It was I think my first fantasy where pure degradation, lowliness materialized. It would be a very long time before I began to see how this fit into the sadomasochistic economy of my needs and wishes.

It wasn’t until I was in a kinky relationship that began to meet my need for bodily pain that I could begin to really appreciate my other lusts.

Damnifiknow, but it is interesting looking.

BDSM bottoms experience desires that may be wholly distinct or overlap or merge depending on the person. Some of us feel them all, some just a portion. We may or may not feel a need:

• To be physically hurt
• To serve
• To please
• To obey
• To worship a person
• To be manipulated
• To be controlled
• For helplessness
• For punishment
• The top’s wrath
• For humiliation
• For degradation

Soulful, isn’t he?

The cleanest distinctions are that some people really aren’t masochists or are only physical masochists. And the wishes to be made lowly while common aren’t omnipresent.

Over the years I’ve come to feel that men are slightly more likely to want all of the above than women. But can’t really defend that perception. (And since this is ultimately about the author not at all relevant.)

Er, blush …

In disassembling myself I’ve come to have some insight into my physical masochism and desire to be obedient and pleasing. But the wellsprings of my emotional masochism remain invisible behind a psychic iron curtain.

Viewed in one way a craving for self-abasement is merely an extension of submissiveness. But plenty of submissive persons want to be compliant and humble. No more.

Others of us want more than a civil sort of inferiority. There is a compulsion to be treated as worthless. (Note to the naïve: that desire isn’t all the same as believing you are worthless.)

We want to be rendered dependent, full of longing. Some want a sense of shame. I can’t confess that last: for me shame is conceit, a lack of charity, incorrect perceptions. I want degradation. To give the right to force me to perform repulsive acts. To take me deeply into uncertainty. To sap my will and leave me weak.

This might be thought of as the crazily logical extension of submission: giving everything, asking nothing. Being a creature whose soul is ravished purely for the top’s pleasure in power. For some of us that pleasure is sustenance and an intoxicant.

But many a dominant would be happy enough with our honestly given compliance. Would reward it with affection as well as control. That is delicious. But I want more.

For me punishment and wrath blur into one emotional event. Strictly viewed when I’m submissive my failures would be a lack of ability or a merely mortal error. The wish for wrath isn’t because I really deserve it. But on one lost childhood level wrath is what I came to expect. As a conscious adult I want to live through what really boil down to nothing more than temper tantrums. Awareness of the source doesn’t obliterate desire.

- A memory suddenly surfaces. When I was a boy one of the best-known TV programs was House Party. The best-known segment was “Kids Say the Darnest Things.” One child confessed to being made to drink barbeque sauce as a punishment. Back then I just thought that was weird and bad. -

But whence that craving for ugliness: to be pissed on for hours. For neediness: to be starved. To live like a beast, treated like a tool.

In my case I think there is an unquenchable wish to have the status of property. To experience a pattern of behavior that really isn’t so much unkind as unequivocal. And to search for means and mechanisms for feeling this true even if it ultimately is not. Or, one might say, to create a transitory subjective truth in the face of objective legal reality.

And once again desire runs dead on into a different kind of facts. However much I may want a top to feel that I am owned by him or her I want someone who if only on some willfully ignored level understands the consent. Doesn’t get lost in the erotic construct. Given assent should be enough. Words like “real” and “true” shouldn’t be necessary.

Anyway, it isn’t the acts but their effects.

I can never drill down into the mental bedrock for an answer. Either it is too deeply buried or the truth more repulsive than any of my cravings. I don’t know. My only regret is in not being able to enact them, not in having them.

Does the gist of what I’m trying to say find some mirror in your own interiority? Or does the preceding just sound like the ravings of a horny man? (The spookiest part of all of this is that I’m not feeling lustful at all but don’t really doubt anything I’ve written.)