Were we all courageous that night? Hell Yes! Do I feel Brave. Not so much. Actually, pretty small….
Objectification: the object-like character of an image that connotes passivity, vulnerability, property, and, in its most extreme form, victimization.
Objectification: dehumanization and depersonalization are a set of related concepts involving the removal or denial of some of the qualities usually associated with being free, adult, and human.
Objectification: involves the lowering of a person, a being with humanity, to the status of an object.
Fuck “official” definitions. Boiled down, and without the obvious negative connotations, objectification is the act of regarding a person as an object.
Put whatever spin YOU want on it. I don’t feel that it is inherently negative.
We talked weeks before about being a dessert platter at a private party. Not yes, but HELL YAH! We talked again closer to the event. No issues. Nope. None. This is something I have wanted to experience for many years after seeing pictures of Nyotaimori (“female presentation”, often referred to as, “body sushi”). SEXY and HOT!
I was one of two dessert platters. I was edible. Along with the desserts placed on my body, both chocolate and caramel were drizzled on me for anyone’s oral pleasure. How sexy is THAT?! My desire. Conscious choice.
From the moment I climbed onto the table I started meditating to calm myself down. I could not really move lest the desserts tumbled. Shit! What if I sneezed? Coughed? Had an itch? I could move my head slightly but that was all. My sight was mostly obscured unless someone moved into my direct line of vision. I could hear and feel. Much of one sense gone heightens the rest.
Two stood over us. Watching. Protecting. That put me more at ease, too. I called to him a few times. He calmed my anxiety by stroking my forehead. I deliberately wove a cord between us.
And so they came. They plucked eclairs and cake and chocolate covered strawberries with fingers and lips. They complimented. It was intensely erotic and amusing too, with banter and suggestive remarks. Everyone who wanted to taste asked permission. Odd, I thought; I already gave my permission. It pulled me back out of myself, out of my head. And that’s where it started to fall apart.
Where fantasy met reality
As soon as everyone was done with dessert I was annoyed. Overwhelmed. Uncontrolled. Madness. Fear? I was sharp with one, STOP, I barked as he tried to help me sit up. Pretty odd coming from someone who was just licked into near orgasm. His energy was frenetic coming at me. I can’t even begin to explain to others how this works for me. But his touch and his energy blew apart the cord I had woven to my protector and my conduit; my one way energetic ticket out. I could NOT recreate the cord fast enough to dump the excess energy. I didn’t say what my mind was screaming. FUCK. GET. AWAY. How ungracious of me. He was concerned and trying to help. Get it, got it.
They took me upstairs to shower as I choked back tears. Sternly told myself NO. DO. NOT. CRY. I begged him to leave with another. I think I hurt his feelings. But I couldn’t in my mind, do it any other way. It was bubbling from the depths and out of control. He left for a minute to take the dirty towels away. I could feel the cord stretch thinner and thinner. Fuck it hurt. Fuck it hurt. I wanted to curl up inside myself. I wanted to sit on the floor of the shower. And. Not. Move. Ever. Again. Disappear into the steam. Forced myself to remain standing. Turned my back to him and watched myself as my hands clumsily rubbed the leftover goo from my body and with that, my sins and shame. My Filth. It felt oddly like taking shower after a rape. WTF? Where did that come from? I’ve never been raped. How would I know? This was NO rape. Not by a long shot.
I cried. A lot. My body shook with tremors. Kind of like the ones I get after orgasm. He held me. Let me discharge emotionally and energetically. He questioned if I was disappointed in him somehow; if my tears were due to something he did not provide for me. OMG, no. I felt a momentarily pang of guilt for “taking” what I had in terms of creating a cord without telling him. I asked for his care that night. Not his soul. His care and concern without flinching or turning me away touched me. Deeply.
Went downstairs to eat and hydrate. I did not want to be there anymore. I wanted to Flee. Purposefully stayed away from the others for some time. Did not/could not look at anyone. My energy was still uncontrolled. Still jumping from my skin. Not yet fully grounded.
I was asked about my experience. We all were. Not sure what I said except that I had to disconnect a lot. That I had meditated to calm myself. That I didn’t understand the emotional reaction. Too many questions. Needed to process. I don’t do well talking right after a scene anyway. It takes a day or two, to process. I tend to brush off questions, make light, babble something or other so everyone will SHUT THE FUCK UP AND LET ME BE.
So the past two days I have been sitting with all of this.
Talking to my mentors. Fleshing the fat from the meat and the meat from the bone.
She likes me insecurities and all. Ouch. ~laughing~
What were the triggers? What were others feeling? Was I fucking crazy?
She insists I was in subspace. I disagree. Is subspace even possible without the endorphin loading and subsequent release? Or was it born out of so much fear, adrenaline was flooding my system? Was I that afraid? Freeze, Flight or Fight with Freeze being the only rational option? Or did I just disconnect through my meditation?
One idea mentioned has to do with fighting societal norms.. I now think this is correct. Who the hell, especially a woman, wants to be objectified? Don’t we as women get enough of that shit in our lives? Looked at as a sexual object. A hole to fill. The Maid. Whatever. Fill in the blank. There’s lots of it, and it’s HUGE.
And yet, I chose this. Chose to be an object. For pleasure. Make NO mistake. Pleasure. Mine AND theirs. So much for “lowering” someone to an “object” status? I was naked, I was beautifully and lovingly adorned with sweets. It was sexy and I was tasty. Despite giving prior consent, everyone who wanted to lick and slurp asked my permission, first. I do not see this as de-humanizing or de-valuing me in ANY way. Quite the opposite. And yet it took a lot of mental/emotional work to get there.
What I think is immediately more important about it all:
I did not once consider myself carefully enough in terms of being an Empath. How the energetic input would factor. I shoved this part into the background in an effort to get what I wanted. I already know what happens with energetic overloads. Yes, I consider this a major failing about self care on my part. The energy is pretty high at these events. We feed it on purpose. All night. We all do. An incredible high. But it has a price for me.
I had to go really deep in my head to do this. To let go. Disconnect at a core level including energetically. That was painful in and of itself. Hard. To be vulnerable. It forced a very deep submissiveness new to me. It also meant the Gates were unguarded. FUCK. Anyone could walk through the Gates. Everyone had access. There was a great fear in that. Something I did not address at the onset. Something I did not fully want to acknowledge. It’s what I took from him by creating that cord. Protection at the Gate until I could guard them again myself.
There was that night, and still is, a profound sadness over not having/allowing this level of submission in my life.
Of allowing myself to be that vulnerable, but not for a lover. Not ever for any lover. But allowing it for a sexy idea. For a long held fantasy. How fucked up is that?
Disappointment and shame over not maintaining….loosing control. Ugh. But, I chose to give up that control. Not logical….
There is some other stuff here too as I process this.
Auxiliary stuff forced to the forefront by the experience.
I have come to the conclusion I actively use being naked to deflect attention away from ME. It’s pretty easy to interact with others if I objectify myself first. Attention goes immediately to my body. I can do the sexual banter, flirting, jokes about me not being able to keep my clothes on. It deflects from real interaction, keeps people from seeing ME. Keeps compliments about ME as a person at bay. I am safe hiding behind my mask of nakedness.
Really now. As long as I objectify myself before anyone else does, it’s ok? It voids the insecurity of not being “good enough”. WTF? How does that make any sense at all? Didn’t I just do the same by allowing my self to be objectified? So how the hell come I felt so…..vulnerable….?
Interestingly enough, this also solidified some issues I have with traditional aftercare. Beyond making sure I am warm and hydrated, I have learned I need to discharge the residual energy of my Top either into the floor or directly into someone who won’t short out. Hugs and cuddles which I normally thrive off of has to wait because I am already overloaded. I cannot take IN any more energy. I need a one way conduit OUT. Yes Maynard, there is a beast and it is Feral. Some don’t get this and I think feelings get hurt when I push away initially. I need to voice that better before I play. I need to come to a point of trust within myself to give this a clear, firm and kind voice. Otherwise this is harmful for myself and anyone I play with.
She suggested working on the vulnerability part with trusted friends. Desensitizing method because this hit such a big button for me. Not sure I want any “do overs” on this one. To what end? Perhaps that is my fear talking?
She asked this, if I longed to trust someone enough that they could grab me by the hair, me to them and undress me in public?
Ummmm….Yes. Hell Yes.
Besides the hot factor in it, I would probably melt on the spot. Yes you can easily take me down like this. Well, a few can (you know who you are). I don’t tend to physically struggle. What’s the point? I want to sink into it. Feel all of it. But emotionally? Yes, I do struggle. Would the reaction I had other night be the same if played out in another way? Heavy money on YES.
So that brings up this: To do this again publicly isn’t the problem, or is it? I already know I can “force” myself to be that vulnerable in public. I just did it for goodness sakes. And learned it has a price for me. Does more become a “show”? Do I need to be “toughened up” that way? Desensitized that way? Perhaps. Maybe she is right.
And maybe it’s “forced” that is the issue….