Sometimes, it's just a cigar

This is our truth, tell us yours

Natural born….?

Be aware if you have not seen Natural born killers the video here has a scene which depicts incest, some may find it triggering, I found it healing.

 

Many years ago, on a crowded Asian street, the air smelling of banana and condensed milk my partner (known to those who follow me on twitter as Mr jem) told me of a film he had seen in one of the many backpackers bars. It was a pre trigger warning world, so they had to find their own way to tell me that they thought I would love it, but that it probably was not a film I should watch alone.

I think its fair to say I became obsessed for a while with Natural Born Killers, The “I love Mallory” sitcom parody was like nothing I had ever seen.

In the world I knew, the world I saw protrayed usually victims were sweet, abusers were men in trench coats, and you never actually did what you were told. 5 minutes which the reality of child abuse for so many is portrayed in the most surreal way ever

And then Micky arrives, and the explosion of violence in an orgiastic celebration. Part of my love for natural born killers comes from the fact the film makes very clear they were of course not “born this way” indeed, I dislike more and more the idea anyone is, all there is is nurture, the perpetual reaction against the previous moment and the search to find yourself within that chain of moments, to become the now.

One of the reasons Carter and I began this process, this conversation of blogging was to challenge the idea of “twueness” within BDSM, the line found so often that some people are born subs, and other born Dominants. It smacks of alpha males to us, biological essentialism, an analysis that is nothing more than a reification of the structures of society we both challenge, and in our own ways stand against.

And yet….

And yet, in Carters presence, my head bows, if he sits, I find my “natural” place to be kneeling at his feet, I could write an entire, totally unread by anyone series of blogs about his feet, I only have to close my eyes to see them, to remember them resting on me, a natural footstool.  When working the act of submission is for me very much a performance, a role I take on and can remove as swiftly and as I put the phone down on a timewaster who wants bareback. For me the role of paid submissive is something where I have to be as unsubmissive as possible, totally in control so I can stop any scene which goes beyond my pre arranged and pre agreed boundaries. This highlights to me that whilst I am Carters submissive there is nothing innate about this. Indeed  that would reduce what the actual act of submission means to me, the choice, the act of giving that it is. If my submission were simply some almost robotic response, a kind of me sub You Dom and any Dom can do response, what meaning would it have?

The search for or insistence on meaning can of course be problematic in itself. Not everything needs a meaning, look at how much fun meaningless, mindless, anonymous sex can be? However  it matters that my submission to Carter is a choice, especially as choice and consent are so intertwined. I am not submissive because I cannot help myself, but because something within Carter speaks to something within me. A specific coincidence of time, person and place combining to create something wonderful.

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This entry was posted on December 11, 2015 by in Uncategorized and tagged , , , .

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