Anastasia’s song

Upon reading 50 Shades of Grey, I decided to rewrite a verse I penned some time ago.  By the way, I do not feel 50 Shades is great literature, possibly not even good literature, but, it is important literature, in that it shows elements of  human relationships before this confined to porn pages.

We tend to forget that in the 19th century, there were brothels devoted to the exercise of sado-masochism.  Spanking, or birching…these were known as the ‘English vices’.   People as diverse as T.E. Lawrence and Percy Grainger were devotees of the cane.  It is just a choice we make, some of us, anyway, those not bent that way by childhood abuse.

(By the way, for those interested in the literary aspects of s/m, Sophie Morgan’s ‘Diary of a Submissive’, is a stirring document.  Do prepare a cold shower, if you are going to read it alone.)

Actually, my only firm objection to 50 Shades is its unreality.  Let’s face it, most dominants are not billionaires like Grey, able to give their subs or bottoms top of the line Audis, most are folks just like you.   Ana, however,  is replicated in the male and female everywhere.   I await eagerly a male version of something like ‘Diary of a Masochist.’

I became fascinated by the whole business very early in my adult life, but, was far too chicken to explore deeply.  But, I thought about it a lot.  What is the zing, the fascination with accepting pain and humiliation?  Is it possibly that the infliction of pain on one causes an awakening of the ‘fight or flight’ feeling, there is a release of something like pheromones when the body is pushed to the limit?

I do not know.   Of course.   But, out of that came this poem.  I decided to write a poem from the point of view of the bottom, or submissive.   I called it:

The invulnerable

Do you wonder that I seek,

The keen edge of pain welcomed,

The service of that other beauty?

 

There is no light without darkness,

No pleasure that does not begin or end in pain.

Do you marvel that I reach out thus,

To deny the loss, take hold of the losing?

 

That is how to take command:

When the doors to pain are opened

Fear is all that is lost.

 

As in the body, so in the soul.

 

When I am before you, an offering,

I am triumphant.

When the sacrifice is taken

I am victorious.

 

Come.  Inflict.

Your command,

It is mine.

In truth

My hand holds the whip.

 

Now,

Would you taste my wisdom?

Come then,

Lie here.

 

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One CommentLeave a comment

  1. Love this,..you grasp the power of the masochist…utterly.


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