Time Traveling Dom

I would chronicle the events, but they are happening, so it is difficult to blog without dispensing with the idea that time is linear and progresses from then to now to later. I did want to write about some early experiences and perhaps if anyone reads this at some point, they will enter the confusing world of someone else and either enjoy the ride or leave unhappy. I will also likely see where I might have made my own foibles, am making them at present, and hopefully I will make some sense of this interesting thing that is happening to me.What is happening to me? I found myself more and more aroused by sexual stimuli. This could be the woman in the parking lot or images and video of explicit sexuality. I became more and more preoccupied with the anatomy of perfect strangers—sought it out, made it a part of my daily routine. Rubbernecking. Compound this with the fantasy of dominating these people sexually, and I didn’t know what to do with these feelings. That is a sort of tale, incomplete, fragmented.I turned to my partner. I gathered strength and made a confession. A request. I sat her down and said, “Honey, I am obsessed with the idea of letting loose my more explicit desires. I want to experience the wildest of sexual tableaus in the form of what is known as a D/s relationship. I say this to you because you seem a likely candidate, what with being my wife and all,” or something to that effect. I was not met with much acceptance. I was sick. A pervert. I remained calm. I gently pressed the issue. I decided to use whatever I could to soft sell the idea. I appealed to her own desire for intimacy.”We will communicate better. Feelings we have that we can’t speak of will be aired. We will get to know each other better,” I said. She perked. I was feeling better about it. She wanted to know more. This was good.I tried to explain what it was I was seeking from the whole thing. I wasn’t entirely clear myself, but part of it was respect. I wanted respect as a man in this weird society where women are protected in these shells of entitlement, oddly inverted feminism, and where they objectify themselves as assets. I found the whole sexual politics to be quite ridiculous. I felt tired. In short, I wanted my balls back. I wanted her to be deferent to me, to obey me. She did not like that word. Obey. Mind you, this woman is an executive, self-made, confident, a rather ice queen. She could make a lovely dominatrix, especially if you saw her shoe collection. The idea of her submitting to me, I think for her, was more than challenging. Our conversations were not always easy about this. It has been a long conversation, with little progress. Oh sure, she offered to acquiesce to some of my fantasies, but I never felt she was quite suited to the whole idea. I kept trying. Talking, explaining, apologizing, pushing the subject, listening. I am sure many will ask me why I waited so long to realize this. Why wasn’t I clear from the beginning? I will say that is a valid point, and a question I cannot answer. I know that my attitude was shifting. I even was confused as to why this was happening. I wondered if I wasn’t becoming a pig by feminist standards. I wanted a woman who understood her role in a home, in relation to a man. I wanted to come home and find my wife waiting for me, to serve me sexually, to offer herself to me. Even I felt I was retreating to the era of the Flintstones. And with consideration of the liberation movement, the struggle for women to gain equality, I wondered if I was suddenly insensitive. I wondered if I was deluded by the notion. I sought the causes for myself, thinking perhaps I was somehow under the influence of some weird psychological issue that needed to be fixed through therapy or something. I live in an area of the country that I am sure is not the status quo, but my locale is my status quo, and here’s what I see in my town: Women are using their beauty to acquire for their relationships. These relationships are based in what can be provided to them financially as a primary litmus. This may appear as though women have somehow taken a position of power, but is promotes a type of objectification, and fosters disharmony in between-the-sexes relationships. The effect is disdain for men, as women lose respect for a man who can’t stand up to them. Yet, this is the predicament they place themselves in. It’s a quandary.Why do I say this? I guess because I am making my way to a place where I am not going to sit back and take this crap anymore. I have discovered that it is not practical or fair, even, to appear one day and change the rules. The process of taking possession of my balls again must be subtle, gentle and calm. And yet, I must be firm. I must be firm and get my balls back, for her own good and mine.