In The Dreamtime
As I was saying, before I was interrupted, a few years ago – well quite a few, I was very young and naive then, and far less worldly than I am now; I don't describe myself as worldly-wise, for I always think it a mistake to over-emphasise my strengths or talents, a very British characteristic, but whether arising from modesty, or superstition, I'm not sure. Don't over-egg the pudding we are told as little tots in the Nursery, hold back on the superlatives: there are countless examples in History of people who boasted of their Power and Success, or their Beauty and Wisdom, and what happened to them? They were too Proud and over confident and they were 'cut down to size, 'taught a lesson', 'humbled'. The lesson is clear – how are the mighty fallen, and the best example is the story of Ozymandias, King of Kings in Shelley's poem. There is a time for every purpose under Heaven. And we imbibed that with our Mother's milk and it shaped so much of our characters so that, to this day, we find it difficult to ascribe success to our projects, or ourselves. 'Things are going okay', might be an understatement, but it doesn't trigger a sudden collapse!
     And maybe it was something to do with this that found me gradually becoming involved with a small group of people who tried to live their lives in accordance to the teaching and writings of an author I had never heard of before I started to hang out with some of his disciples. I'd heard of L Ron Hubbard and Scientology, but the Gorean subculture and the works of John Norman meant nothing to me. It was a time when I was still trying to evolve my own identity – I didn't know if I was straight, bisexual or Lesbian, partly because, attending an all-girls school limited contact with boys and created an intense belief that they weren't really much use or in any way necessary, especially now that we knew that artificial insemination had rendered their primary function obsolete. Like most girls of my age at that time I had no experience of sexual intercourse, had only read of it in connection with procreation, and had anyone suggested that women enjoy it would have been laughed out of the room. How on earth would any woman enjoy that! This was surely a classic example of cognitive dissonance. To be told that something so unpleasant as having the thing a boy or man pisses with stuck inside me while he uses me as a kind of masturbatory aid until he ejaculates inside me would give me the most fantastic experience of my life just made me want to vomit. And in my own case, it still does. But that is less to do with the penis itself and the way it operates during penetration, and much, much more to do with the idea of getting that close and personal with a Man!
     But back in my innocence I could be induced, encouraged, seduced and beguiled into trying things which would probably never have crossed my mind, left to my own devices. And by one of those quirks of fate, it so happened that I, a 15 year old virgin schoolgirl whose principal interests at the time were Hildegard of Bingen and Anne Frank should be drawn into a group of would-be Dominant Men and extremely Submissive Women and learning all the rules and practices of an almost messianic cult within the wider world of BDSM.
     Of course, I hadn't the faintest inkling of any of that at the beginning, and like all effective seductions, it was unhurried, empathic, flattering and put enormous stress on my value and what an asset I was in any group of like-minded people, in an assembly of kindred spirits. Now what could possibly be kindred between the naive, bookish, 15 year old virgin and the 40 year old, not very tall, and rather overweight Greengrocer with a wife and four children who had identified me as an ideal slave to serve him in every way he might wish – which I discovered was to have involved a great deal of fucking, in every orifice, and my addressing him from the traditional slaves kneeling position in a variety of ways which were designed to encourage his fantasy that he was my superior in every conceivable way and that my sole reason for existing was to obey him and be grateful that he should choose me to serve his sexual desires.













                                                                                         <kajira - The Gor Project 1 by mjranum stoc>
     How woefully stupid can an intelligent 15 year old girl be? For many years I was ashamed to admit to anyone, particularly anyone I respected and liked, that I had been such an absolute twat to have been taken in by the Gorean Lifestyle. And thrilled to be given the honour of abasing myself before a not-very-bright, not-very-attractive, not-even-very-alpha male, who I eventually realised had come across John Norman's books, learned that there were people – men and women – who got sexual gratification from surrounding their BDSM pleasures with rituals and litany as devised by Norman, and set about recruiting members from his Golf Club, Chamber of Commerce, and fellow Masons, together with a number of their wives (some of whom I am sure did genuinely enjoy the swinging, while others, I would guess, involved themselves to keep an eye on their husbands and ensure that no other women got their claws into them). I don't know if the Founder, who had chosen me, ever saw himself as a Paedophile or child molester. I don't think my age was ever asked or discussed at any time during which I was involved with the group and at 15 I managed with ease to get drinks in local pubs where boys of my age were bluntly refused and ejected. Girls have always been able to look much older than boys of the same age. I'm not excusing the man, or taking any culpability myself, beyond the sheer denseness which led me to join these people who had no interests in common with me, and whom I would previously never have been seen dead with.
     It was the SF concept which hooked me. Gor, for those who haven't heard of it, is earth's sister planet. It circles the sun on exactly the same orbit as our planet, but is exactly opposite ours, on the other side of the sun and therefore cannot be seen or located, from Earth. Of course now, the space travel which has been carried out over the past 50 years would have spotted this twin if it existed. But when Norman started writing his books, our mothers and fathers would have no way of disproving the concept.
     How my tale, which was supposed to be written around a particular Dream I had just the other night has taken me into this account of a period in my early life, I don't really know, but I suppose, now that it has, I had better determine that my next post should explain just how I came to be ensnared and what happened then.