Beyond My Control: Forbidden Fantasies in an Uncensored Age (27 page)

We could rule by force this person who, in some ways, may even be our superior. In our turn, when forced into submis- sion by a larger hand, we felt our tears control them. It may have started out as a game, but they hurt us. They would have to live with what they had done. Their guilt would keep them in our power. Wrapped in these innocent childhood memories are seeds of our sadomasochistic fantasies waiting for whatever nutrients are needed to make them grow.

Polly

a young fledgling actress in the midwest, Polly says she wasn’t able to achieve orgasm until she was twenty.

My best friend called me and told me she had finally had an orgasm. We were both crazy for a while, doing it several times a day for weeks and just because we could. I’ve had nine lovers, mostly within a sort of relationship. And I’ve also made love with five women. I love women’s

bodies, but for me, guys are where it’s at. I’d
love
to have two men on me, and I’ve been in a three-women/one-man bondage thing—great! I was never hit by my parents. I have two older brothers who would sometimes play rough with me, but I was never sexually abused. So, I don’t know why fantasies like this are the ones that really get me going. I know I wouldn’t want it to happen in real life.

I’m at a party, in a fancy house, looking very sexy. It’s a good hair day. I go to the bathroom, and while I’m sitting on the stool, touching myself, getting really hot, a man walks into the stall.

He has a musky, sweet smell, green eyes, full, soft smiling lips. He tells me he overheard me outside talking with a friend sizing up what we think each guy’s cock is like. I tell him it’s not polite to eavesdrop. He tells me then he has to pee. I say go ahead. He laughs, like I’m crazy. He unzips his pants, allowing his beautiful tan penis to slip out, and releases a stream of urine between my legs while I’m still sitting on the commode. A little of it splashes on my thighs. He finishes and drops his pants the rest of the way. He plunges his fingers inside me, and I cry out. Then, he leads me upstairs in search of a little privacy.

As we walk into the room, he locks the door, and I see two other men inside. My heart beats with fear as I realize I’m trapped. They pull me to the bed, violently tear off my clothes, and tie my arms with neckties. I’m too scared to cry and still really aroused. They all strip and have huge beautiful cocks, all of them wanting me. The guy who brought me in there lies naked over me. He lowers his mouth to my vulva and quickly plunges his tongue inside of me. His tongue goes lower, stroking my behind and my rectum. The other two men straddle me. They’re rock hard. One of them is stroking his cock in my face. He begins slapping my face hard with it. He begins to buck hard, moaning loud and licking his lips until I can see the cum shooting out of his cock, practically blinding me. The other man orders him to untie me and pulls me off

the bed and to my knees. He squeezes my arm hard and twists it behind my back as the guy who brought me in there positions himself in front of me, his cock glistening with cum and jerking in excited anticipation. He threatens me, saying if I hurt him, scratch his cock in any way with my teeth, I’ll be sorry. I hold his cock with my hand and slowly take it into my mouth. It’s bitter with semen at the end of it. I’m on my knees with the other guy behind me pounding my ass and spanking me while calling me things like a “fucking pussy whore.” The penis in my mouth swells even more as I gag. His semen cums spurting out against my throat, and I swallow, coughing and crying. The man fucking me from behind holds my head, banging it against the dresser as he shoots his cum into my ass. The pain is so great, I end up passing out. When I awake, they’re all gone.

In our fantasies, the elaborately described use of force frees us to experience whatever sexual variations we desire. It’s worrisome— to put it mildly—that some of us use the “rape”word when, indeed, what almost always is sought is freedom from responsibility.

In past interviews with psychoanalysts and therapists, it’s been noted that the “attacker” in the fantasy often stands for the in- cestuously desired father or brother. And while some women and men note that they have actually had sexual interludes with fathers or brothers, others acknowledge that it is only in fantasy that they are forced into sex by a powerful male figure, who was originally desired in childhood.

In the masochistically experienced sexual act in fantasy, we can permit ourselves to satisfy our desire for sexual pleasure and at the same time expiate the guilt.

Fauzia

Fauzia, a nineteen-year-old Pakistani woman who is a virgin, recounts a time at a friend’s house when she was watching a movie.

A guy sitting next to me on the couch tried to get me to drink alcohol, which is forbidden in Islam, and to walk me home. I declined, but for some strange reason, I love to fantasize about him when I masturbate. I imagine he walks me to my dorm, then he asks if he can come inside to use the bathroom. I allow him in, but as soon as he’s inside, he kisses me. He slips his hand under my shirt and cups my breasts. He squeezes them and pinches my nipples. He pushes me down on the bed and removes my shirt. He licks my nipples then starts to nurse, licking so hard they become sore. My clitoris starts to throb. He removes my panties and rubs my pussy really hard. I cry out in pain, and I know he has gone too far. “Stop!” I scream. He pins me down with the weight of his own body. He sticks the tip of his enormous penis in my vagina but has difficulty getting in all the way because of my hymen. He thrusts very hard to get inside me. “You’re hurting me!” I cry, my voice drowned out by the vigorous squeaking of the mattress. He doesn’t pay attention and grunts, “Tight hot pussy!” He fucks me so hard I can feel him ramming my cervix. I stop crying and love his hot dick fucking my pussy. My feet are far above my head. He doesn’t care though. Then, we both climax, with his cum shooting into me.

In reality, I don’t know why I fantasize this. I would never want it to happen. I don’t even care about him. I think you can call what he did attempted rape. Furthermore, I believe sex and love should go together. I was never hit by my parents, so I don’t believe I associate love with pain. When I fantasize about this creepy guy, however, I cum every time.

It is especially hard for women to separate sex and love. By confusing them, we risk losing the best of both. But for both men and women, though corporal punishment and sexual abuse may not be a necessity to planting the seeds of our S&M fanta- sies, what better way to nurture their growth?

Jeff

Jeff, a thirty-one-year-old professional, wasabusedbyhisfather, whowouldwhack him almost daily ten or twelve times with his belt.

The pain could not be described with words, but searing, burning, and unbearable come close. During the beatings, I was filled with rage but fearful of expressing anything other than tears. I also remember seeing my father naked after a bath and experiencing some sexual stirring as well as fear of his strength, power, and emotional distance. My mother also sexually and physically abused me. I have bodily memories of her fondling my testicles, moving them in her hand like two marbles. I believe she did this when she bathed me, and when she put me to sleep, she would lie down beside me and put her hand in my pajamas. She also gave me suppositories and enemas regularly at a very early age. She would call me into the toilet when she was changing her sanitary pad. She would tell me to bring her a clean one and hand me the dirty one, wrapped in toilet paper, to throw away.

I have a very good imagination and have had just about every type of sexual fantasy with people of almost every age and with both sexes. I have learned that fantasies, any fantasies, are OK. Most of my fantasies are about hurting women, embarrassing, controlling, and humiliating them. Making them submit to my will, making them powerless. Spanking them. Pushing my penis into their rectum, giving

them douches with vinegar and soapy enemas, shaving their pubic hair. Sometimes, I pretend I am a woman. I fuck my ass with a hairbrush handle and spank myself imagining what a woman feels like when she is getting fucked. My best orgasms come from anal stimulation. I fantasize a man raping me. Sometimes, I fantasize about sucking a man’s cock. Mouthing it when it is soft, making it hard, making it explode in my mouth, and swallowing the sperm. I also think about putting my penis in a submissive man that I just spanked or otherwise humiliated. I am intensely attracted to women but also filled with anger toward them. I am afraid of men and probably afraid of my sexual feelings toward them. People should realize that when they hit their children on the buttocks, they are sexually stimulating them. Don’t hit your children. There are better ways to discipline them.

If I pinch or bite you, and you have an enlarged pleasure range, you may not experience it as pain. That is real life. In fantasy, we control the pain to the degree we desire, within our limits of pleasure. In reality, masochists often cannot control the pleasure range of pain and end up getting hurt. Some people in our society label consenting adults as perverts because they enjoy a certain amount of pain in sex. Sadder still, they condemn themselves for simply
thinking
sexually masochistic thoughts that arouse them.

Condemnation for our fantasies is a sad waste. The thought

is not the deed! Given the cruelty of our real world nowadays and the breakdown of societal rules, especially in the home, where our sexual identity is formed, are we surprised that our sexual fantasies and real lives have become dramatically more permissive than ever before? Is it good/is it bad isn’t the point.

What matters isn’t societal condemnation of what turns us on sexually—but the finger-wagging, overbearing conscience within each of us that is usually far more brutal.

T h e V i c a r i o u s r a p e F a N T a s y , o r ,

“I’m Impervious to Pain—Except My Own”
“Find the pleasure through the pain,” the fantasy man who has enslaved her says. As often as not, it’s the threat of punishment rather than actual pain that brings on orgasm. Just as the threat of discovery heightens the thrill when we are stealing sex with an illicit partner.

Seth

Seth, a forty-three-year-old male teacher and PhD, happily married for twenty years, says his wife lost interest in sex when she had children, but recently, her drive resurfaced.

He divides his fantasies. When he is having sex with his wife, he employs a variety of other fantasies, saving for masturbation his fantasies of his wife being gang-raped while he watches. i find it interesting because it shows how mastur- bation can be an outlet for one aspect of our sexuality, and intercourse involves a reality-fantasy in tune with our partner.

I have a lot of fantasies. Sometimes, my wife and I “exchange” fantasies. One I got when a friend told me how he, walking with his wife in a very lonesome place, was suddenly surrounded by four young men on motorbikes, who taunted him by telling him his wife was ugly. I imagined this happening to us. It’s not an accident that I use this fantasy when my wife and I have had a quarrel that has not been resolved.