My entire blog is pretty much one messy journal. I have categories I hope make navigating it easier but I’m also a messy individual, with a brain that weaves in and out of topics. So luckily or unluckily for you, I’m going to write a bit.
I also can’t turn off my brain and when it wants to write, it will most definitely write.
So: it’s 1-44am and my heart is racing and my body is slick with sweat. I think there’s a full moon out there tonight and I want to howl. Times like these, I write a lot — and what’s on my mind, a part from belonging in the 18th century and violating some poor innocent creature (heh) – is animal roleplaying.
I’m new to the topic, having been introduced by my submissive. It’s not that I wasn’t interested, more that I never had the chance, never heard someone’s interest in it and hear them describe it on a deep and personal level.
The outsider might see you lead someone on the leash and dismiss it as sick but that’s childish — what they fail to see is that with the act comes a heightened sense of arousal, maybe even a revelation about yourself and last but not least — security.
It’s as much about security for the submissive as it is for me, really. And in it, a revelation comes forth: I really fucking like this.
I never thought I’d feel a sense of belonging when my pet and I bought her her own special bowl. I never thought I’d find the idea of her growling like the little lioness so damn arousing – but it is.
The scenario being: she comes home from work and undresses, as I’ve asked her to. And as I’ve asked her to, she fits her collar on and hands me her leash.
Maybe I’ll let her have her English language or maybe I’ll get her to embrace that animal within her and have her meow to me.
Picture her with her black collar, her adorable eyes looking up at me, eating a prepared dinner out of the bowl we picked together.
It’s not for everyone but imagine the togetherness. Or the way her pussy will glisten in the light as she bends over and feasts. In her mind, she might feel worried I think she looks ridiculous. She might trust me not to laugh at the food on her face. But I won’t, because I don’t find that funny. She’s my pet and I take care of my property. I’ll wash her face afterwards with loving care.
That I enjoy these thoughts doesn’t surprise me. I’m heavily into the psychological aspects of BDSM and fascinated by what it means. I’m fascinated by our minds and why they connect with this idea of animal roleplaying.
Maybe, hopefully, a reader might read my words, the words that I’ve written as my heart and mind races, and he or she might feel persuaded by the idea. If it’s not your thing, ask yourself why? I understand the hesitancy because people might feel embarrassed and shy away from it but honestly, to hell with that. It’s liberating and exhilarating and just fucking sexy to think of my pet with her little cat ears on and her collar and that pale ass in the air, ready for my taking after her feed.
And then — what animal? And why? Layers upon layers of this delicious psychological practice – and it IS a practice, make no mistake. Don’t roll your eyes at practicing safety – emotional wellbeing is at play here. It takes tremendous amount of trust, not only of his/her body but mentally. Careful with that leash!
Forgive me, I’ve written too much. I like to talk a lot. It oozes out some of the horniness positively into a semi decent post.
The bottom line is: Animal roleplaying is cathartic and sexy as hell and well worth experimenting.