Lost

Another dimly remembered fantasy from the mind of a young masochist in the making.

Vision blocked I was led somewhere. Maybe I knew about blindfolds but certainly not of hoods (except as worn by pro wrestlers). Maybe a towel was wrapped over my eyes. Or I wore a paper bag: that certainly passed though my mind at some point back then.

(Speaking of head coverings. I sometimes kink on the idea of having a burlap sack put over my head. That would be mildly uncomfortable without interfering with my breathing.

For me something like a hood is exciting not only to block sensory experience. A hood that covers your face and perhaps blocks speech renders you anonymous. I’ve imagined a top pretending they didn’t know who I was and saying it didn’t matter because I was only a … )

Anyway, I’m led over hill and dale into a wooded area. The top, who conveniently has a horse - no, I don’t have the British women on horses kink - leaves me stranded. I have to wind my way home or spend the night alone in the woods.

That scenario had a very short shelf life. Having spent time in large forests as a kid I knew that I was just as likely to get so lost nobody could find me.

But my fevered young brain evolved a more satisfying scenario.

In this version I was taken a distance away from home. Then my vision was blocked and I had to find my way home. There was a gravel path I could follow. Walking on gravel would be uncomfortable and I’d be frantically double checking, trying to insure that I didn’t wander from the path.

No other early fantasy captures such a pure desire for helplessness. Rare in my imaginary life. A desire I wouldn’t become conscious of for many long years.

Gravel paths bring another one to mind. This from not all that many years ago.

There was a photo - looked to be from the 1970s - of a guy whose ankle cuffs were chained to the rear of a pickup. He lay on a gravel road. The implication of course that he was going to be pulled along by the truck.

My response was “Oh! Oh! Wow! Mxyzptlk!”

I imagined the truck inching very slowly forward. But I couldn’t convince myself it wouldn’t really go to fast and mangle me. Another fantasy my pesky desire for believability forced me to abandon.