Make (someone) feel ashamed and foolish by injuring their dignity and self-respect, especially publicly.
When I first became involved in BDSM, the concept of erotic humiliation was repugnant. The idea of someone addressing me in such a way that I felt shame had no appeal. It still doesn’t. For example, the idea of anyone, be they my Dominant or a stranger, saying or doing things to make me feel unnecessarily shamed or foolish doesn’t turn me on, it makes me angry.
So then how to explain the fact I get turned on and feel pride when V calls me ‘boy?’ How do I square this conviction regarding shame with the fact I’m very auditory during sex and enjoy being called all kinds of filthy names and a Dominant using extremely crass and matter-of-fact terms when describing how I’m to be used? Why is it I get rock hard at the idea of being pissed on or worshiping my Dominant’s ass?
Furthermore, it doesn’t make me cringe nor feel ‘foolish’ to say I enjoy that kind of use. I feel no shame in writing this post.
I know and love my place in a D/s dynamic and feel no self-disgust over my masochism or any other kinks that turn me on. I’m at a loss to explain why these things work for me, but I can say with immense conviction that ‘shame’ isn’t part of the equation.
Or is it?
The fact I enjoy ‘dirty talk’ means my brain process the words as dirty and somehow taboo. Similarly, the fact I am called degrading things and am turned on by them means those words hold power. Insert any form of humiliation here that I enjoy, and what I experience neither squares with what I feel nor what the term implies I feel.
In short, the term erotic humiliation as it pertains to my arousal and preferences is flawed because the actions and stimulus have an effect but damage to my self-respect or dignity ain’t one of them.
Example – a scenario I fantasized about and described to V:
I’m placed naked and on all fours in a cage just high and wide enough to contain me in this position. The floor is padded, rubber, and washable to allow for extended sessions. My wrists and ankles are placed in restraints, then attached to the cage, before I’m blindfolded and gagged. This leaves me immobilized and vulnerable, but in a ‘comfortable’ position I can hold for hours without being overly fatigued.
Next she places a clamp on my cock flesh and attaches it to weights strung through the top of the cage. The weights and clamp maintain a light but constant, upward pressure on my cock. Then she fingers and toys me enough that I open up enough for her to insert a plug large enough to make me feel full. The plug is attached to a fucking machine set to move a few inches at a time – very slowly. Once turned on, the machine pulls the plug until it’s almost out before easing it back in. It does this relentlessly until it’s turned off.
Moving to the front of the cage, she might remove removed the gag, then grab a medium-sized dildo attached to a broom handle. With this she could fuck my mouth for a while until I was gagging and sputtering before shoving an open-mouth gag into my face and sliding a padded bar under my chin to force it up. After inserting something else in my mouth, she might move on to something else, or merely step back to drink in the view.
The combinations and variety were endless – different dildos and variations on the speed of the machine – different kinds of pain and pleasure for my cock – and all different kinds of varying sensations for my body and stimulation for my brain.
I’d be completely at her mercy for as long as she was entertained. Once bored, she could place an anal hook inside me and insert a smaller gag into my mouth, and then shut out the lights to leave me there until she felt like returning to release or torture me some more.
V absolutely loved the idea but immediately upped the ante by adding another machine in front (which made me wince), and then had a question regarding ‘public humiliation.’ She asked if I’d be able to handle the idea of being spit roasted in the living room with some of her lifestyle girlfriends over.
“I wouldn’t let any of them touch you,” she said, “but one may walk up at some point and adjust the speed of one of the fucking machine, another may walk up and tug on the weights, pulling on the clamp on your cock, etc. How would you feel about something like that?”
My response was immediate: that’s not what I’d call public humiliation.
I HATE the idea of public humiliation. I have absolutely no desire to be in either a crowded or not-so-crowded-room full of complete strangers mocking or even looking at me caged and bound. The idea makes me disgusted and angry.
However, a room with four or five lifestyle women she knows, likes, and respects? –I’m your boy!
The first situation equates humiliation: it is ‘shameful,’ would hurt my dignity, and does not turn me on.
The second situation equates me being the center of sexual attention for a room full of dominant females. I feel no shame whatsoever in being objectified and love the idea of V showing me off. Why would I feel ashamed of who I am to her? Does the fact I won’t be miserable with people watching me suck her cock or beg to be beaten take the heat out of the idea? Some would say yes, and I simply won’t hang out or play with those people
The description of my blog tells no lies: I’m an unrepentant slut.
After all the fantasizing and explication, I have no better idea of what to call ‘humiliation play’ than when I started. If any readers have thoughts on the semantics surrounding this term or perceive flaws in my logic, I’d be interested to hear them.
For now, I’m happy to call these activities whatever moniker’s presently in common use, but that doesn’t mean I buy the dictionary definition for a second.