I think many times we take it for granted, that we have this additional sense about us that is played with, prodded, poked, yanked, scraped, aggravated, teased and cajoled. I also think it’s one of the most crucial to “this thing we do’ and yet it’s just there… waiting to be unleashed.
They say (who are THEY anyway?) that your biggest sex organ is your mind. So true, and that’s why imagination plays such a huge role. It comes into play before, during and certainly after any type of encounter. Sometimes it’s a good thing, leading you through the planning and helping you be prepared. Other times, messing with that imagination is exactly and precisely the point. To mess with your head.
Before, as you’re just getting going, it’s all about the anticipation. I mean, how many times do you see the toys and instruments pulled from their hiding spots, laid out before you as the blindfold goes on? Just seeing the possibilities and imagining each of the items.
Those super-sharp points on that wheel.
The split ends of the whip.
Those paddles, the wooden spoons that you know hurt like a mother.
The cat ‘o nine-tails that even just looking at it, I can feel the thuds, the “snap” of the flowers on the ends, then the raking of the strands across my back. Those thuds roll through me and the more they come, the deeper the impact is and the more I feel it through me.
The clamps. With chains. The chains are a threat – a threat of grabbing the chains, or attaching them to something on you that moves, or simply the weight of them, pulling, tightening the clover clamps even more and making your chest on fire. Then your mind goes to the fact that what goes on, must come off. The clamps again – and when they come off that white hot/cold rush of blood and the pain and nerves firing in the flood of feelings.
ALL of this goes through your head as the lights dim and go out when the blindfold goes down. ALL of these are increased 10 fold when the clips go on the cuffs and you realize once again the predicament you’re in. Even the cuffs – you can feel the cold the steel holding them, the leather around the cuff holding you, the ridiculousness of trying to pull free.
It all plays with your head and your head loves it. Imagination runs away. The bite of each of the implements – from electrical to plugs to clamps to … whatever – it all is enhanced as your imagination goes crazy. Panic can flood in, even. Will this really happen? Your mind goes into overdrive, creating odd and bizarre scenarios, extreme scenarios, fun, and not-so-fun scenarios.
After, you can feel it all roaring through your body. From literally your head to your toes, but it’s totally different imagination at play now. You want more. You want it to not end. “I can take this forever!” It’s invincibility.
It can be painful a bit too – marks, bruises, welts, even just flat worn out muscles that have been pushed to their limits in your futile attempts to fight back, to control. All of it comes home and starts writing that story in your mind.
What just happened?
Did I really make it through that?
Then after the cuffs are off, the blindfolds are off, all of that – there’s the pride. The realization that you made it through – and the pride in being there for her. It’s really almost an offering, that makes it all tick. Making it through, living within the right boundaries, pushing the other ones, and trusting, all makes it work.
And the bizarre pride of looking in the mirror.
I have to take a few minutes often, at this point. I have to do a check-in with my imagination and make sure I think through, remember and replay all of the goodness of the time. I don’t want it to fade away, I want to remember it. I can feel my body reliving some of it.
And I grin.
3 Replies to “Imagination as an additional Sense”
I’ve never really thought of it in this way. Excellent post!
I totally get this, the anticipation and excitement before; the pride and relief AND excitement after. How I long to experience that again 😉
Oh hell yes…my mind is definitely the biggest player in all of my sexual experiences. And I love it when He fuck with my head. Imagination IS definitely a sense, though I hadn’t ever thought of it in this way.