| Some thoughts on The Story of O. |
[Sep. 10th, 2006|08:31 pm] |
Well, I bought The Story of O yesterday, and I finished it in a few hours. The book didn't have a place where I felt I could leave it off, and read it through in one sitting with little trouble. I could simply say I enjoyed it, for in many ways I did, though it gave me so much to think about, I don't think I could leave it simply at that.
Let me begin with that I understand a lot about how O felt. I can understand much of her desire, much of her thoughts, concerns, her desire to please Rene, to know his love. There are so many things, however, I don't really think I feel so great about, and it has left me feeling somewhat voided- I guess in some ways because I see some things I feel lacking in, and would like, and some other things that are huge fears of mine, things that left me feeling a bit hollow to read.
There was one thing, at the end of the edition of the book I bought, which stated:
"In a final chapter, which has been suppressed, O did return to Roissy, where Sir Stephen abandoned her. There exists a second end to O's story. In that version, O, seeing that Sir Stephen was on the verge of leaving her, preferred to die. Sir Stephen gave his consent."
This has cast an amazingly black feel on me. To love so deeply, and to be more willing to die than to be left, is amazingly powerful. But would I prefer that, in the end? I cannot say. What saddened me was mostly that after her endless submission to these two men, Rene and Sir Stephen, they would just cast her aside. As if they are done with the toy they enjoyed at her expense, her gift given to them, and found her so worthless, so disposable, she no longer mattered. It scares me.
I could not bear to experience all that O did, and then to be forgotten, left behind, cast aside by those who were responsible for those experiences. I could not feel such dispair as wondering if I was still loved, after such a tremendous gift of self. I could not bear to be given away by the one whom I had enslaved myself to. These things, in my mind, are terrifying, especially as I proceed to become vulnerable, as I have already become so vulnerable. Such a deep seated need to be reassured has never come to me so hard- the desire to ask such strange questions and to cling to their answers has never been so strong. I want to talk about it, yet I stumble for words and laid awake last night, feeling cold, sad, and somewhat frightened. This is not to say I have any doubts as to the one I love and give my submission to, this is to say that I am feeling so deeply from this book I need guidance, need reassurance, need him to be here and tell me it's alright, and I am too choked on my words to really ask. This pours out now as a torrent, from my heart, and not my logical head. I know that I am loved, and I feel that. Somehow, I just need comfort that I am unable to find within myself, and do not wish to ask for, out of some need to not say a word, not to appear weak and overly-emotional from the reading of a book.
Tears form, as I feel things as strongly from a book as in my life. I do not cry, but feel them dampen my eyes, ready at any time to fall should I let them. I hold myself back if nothing else than to not let words on a page get to me so harshly. To make me feel so much.
In some ways, in addition to this, I am tragically jealous of O. To know what to expect, to know that one has rules to abide and expectations to meet, to know that to break these would lead to punishment in some way, is something I desire and wait for. To feel such a great power in one's own submission as to allow themselves to be used by anyone who wants them, anyone that her master deemed alright, is not something I think I could ever encounter and live- I have been hurt in my life, and never wish to repeat it, nor have it repeated to me. It takes a long time for me to trust, just as it took me a long time do admit my own desire for submission. Though I have never had second thoughts, I cannot help but to feel that I am somehow less for not wanting such things. That it would make me lesser than. I know that to each their own and that this is fantasy, but all the same...
I suppose the biggest thing I would like that O had is that she knew her place. There are still, at times, moments where I find myself wondering, wishing to feel something or to know where I belong in the balance of power that we share. Noting makes me happier than to feel the ownership that is over me, to know that I am important enough to have that from my Dom. O knew what it was that was wanted of her, she was instructed, trained in all the ways needed to break her and mold her into the ideal these men had of her. She allowed them to take her, to take over her, and she was comforted in it. I seek that. I wish to be used by another for their pleasure as O had been, even when it hurt, even when it was scary. I want to feel the same intense submission, but without the same outcomes. I want to feel it, and know that my place is by the side of the one I love, without question or fear of being abandoned. I want to know what is expected of me so that I can meet those expectations. I want to feel strengthened by my submission and the love that is shared through that.
Just thoughts. I'm trying to process still, and this is more-or-less just a torrent of words I can hardly say. |
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