Eating Cat Food
» BDSM Play , » Humbling
Pollen season has hit North Carolina and Alexandra is having her first experience of hay fever leaving us inactive. So I’ll return to Wednesday last.
I’ve said before that my need to become worshipful is an attempt to recapture some of how I must’ve felt about my mother as an infant.
Are babies humble? I don’t know. But there must be some emotion akin to humility in its response to the giants that care for it. Leaving us with a desire to be connected to something greater than ourselves, perhaps explaining patriotism and religion. Babies are selfish. An infant’s cries become an adult’s prayers.
I knew that at some point Alexandra would have me eat pet food from a bowl (the time she fed by hand had been intoxicating). When she put the bowl on the floor before me the other night my pet nature was thrilled.
But the bowl was too deep. She poured the brittle bits on the floor. They were so crunchy that chewing them was slow. Alexandra decided to, ahem, help me by crushing them with her boots.* Another wonderful shudder.
When she began to whip me, telling me that she’d keep it up until I’d finished eating the cat food it was a shock. (I remember an old essay called The Rape of Cinderalla. A literary critic observed how disconcerted we’d feel by the discontinuity if Prince Charming raped Cinderalla. There was a little of that in the whipping.)
Only momentarily. Once again she’d given me the gift of letting me live another old fantasy.
I treasure how humble and loving I feel as her pet. But often these last few months I’ve wanted to be treated as a mere creature. For me it is more objectifying than the passive role of furniture.
(You may be thinking: pet, animal - what is the difference. Our pet play is for my secular humanist mind about as sacred an experience kink has for me. If only for my own clarity the animal role must be referred to differently.)
Being made to feel unimportant is one of the many strands of degradation, a very common submissive craving. I can’t quite find the words: it is to be less than valueless to have negative significance.
Animal, as I envision it, takes me into that degraded state. Existing only for my owner’s use, perhaps put away when not needed. Urged on by punishment, no failing tolerated. Those uses may be almost functional: crawling along the ground, pulling her behind me. Or cruelly toyed with for her amusement. - Actually, I’m getting into generalized degradation, not just the animal role.
Actually much of my animal fantasies are outside likelihood. Chances are I’m not going to be pulling a plow or spending the night caged in the yard or garage.
I had some point to make in this entry but seem to have lost my way. So I’ll point you to a few earlier notes:
* And - bless her - brought me a glass of water. I’m so lucky to have someone like Alexandra who plays across all the registers of my heart.
Comments
Was hoping you’d write about this :)
It’s always enjoyable reading it from your perspective.
Posted by: Alexandra | April 17, 2006 12:36 PM