Another event... relevant?

So, early in life (very early) the female figure became something before which to tremble, not so much in fear but to hold in awe... awe of the power such had over me or could have over me in bringing forth respect and obedience. Naughty boys don’t get their clothes back.

Georgeann Cross has a well written manuscript, ‘Sexual Power for Women’ (www.francescaspizza.com). For those who have not read it, she very aptly describes the anatomical process evidencing male submission to feminine governance, terming it ‘the Loop’. It is a process by which the very act of submission leads to the physical arousal of tumescence... which leads to humiliation... which leads to further arousal.

Yes ceding power is demeaning for the male, something he is taught and trained to avoid in vanilla society but to which ultimately the submissive male will reluctantly concede (to his subconscious delight). Since he is ‘forced’ to step outside his expected role he feels ostensible guilt... vulnerability... but revels in being soothed by the strong feminine hand which has brought his degradation... that which has forced his concession of power.

The hand that disciplines is also the hand that calms and consoles. So he relinquishes. Such is life’s ironic reality in being disciplined and trained. The submissive male has no other choice but to accept that. There is the curious dichotomy... he does not wish to capitulate but he does, cursing his own weakness but also relishing it.

Sometime when I was 8 or 9 years old I got into some altercation with two older girls, I am guessing they were 11 or 12. One was large and strong for her age the other was cute, authoritative and in charge. I cannot remember the details or what it was that aggravated them. But their solution was to ‘beat me up’, the large girl forcing me to the ground and the cute one commanding that I apologize. I believe the humiliation of being overpowered by mere ‘girls’ was compounded by the fact that the one who was exceedingly cute governed the events but did not become physically involved. She remained aloof, barking commands but not ‘soiling’ her hands with a lowly, belligerent boy. (She later in life did professional modeling, but not much later, probably when she was 13-14).

As stated I was in awe of the female form early in life as a result of the nurse who so often stripped me naked as a toddler. This later encounter, one in which I strangely chose not to resist or fight back, further solidified my feelings. I submitted. I irritated the girls then let them have their way with me. I passively went to the ground without a fight and then begged to be let up. (Something I would never allow a male cohort to do to me). It is not appropriate to describe my deepest reaction at the time as being one of arousal. It was not possible at that age. But once again there was the frisson of strange joy... that I was placing myself into the hands of something, someone with perceived superiority. I momentarily became theirs with whom to toy. I gave.

I suppose one can experience the same feeling in riding a roller coaster, a curious combination of fear and thrill. The ride begins and becomes a mechanism beyond my control, taking me somewhere and I cannot resist... and deep within I do not wish to resist.

‘Powerful’ females were once again having their way with me when I was pinned to the ground. They let me up when I began to cry. The cries were of humiliation, not pain or physical discomfort.

Was I furtively wishing for them to remove my clothing?

As stated, the results of these experiences have been a lifelong shyness which women have interpreted as a form of snobbery. If only they knew of my deep awe and admiration for the power they wielded over me...