I think of D/s flirting sometimes like throwing spiderweb silk in his direction, and these delicate filaments stick to him, sometimes inadvertently, perhaps he doesn’t even realise that this light gossamer thread has even landed on him, much less that it has attached itself. But sometimes, he sees it clearly, will catch it, examine it, tiny and harmless, then look me directly in the eye and deliberately stick it to himself (see, that image there is incredibly hot to me… *swoon*).
And then he flings one back at me, this light and whisper-thin silk, and I may play with it a little, then attach it firmly to my bare skin, perhaps there, just above my breast, or in that spot where a chaste kiss might land on my cheek, or there, where my hip bone juts. The ones that land on my lips will come later.
Over time, we build up this network of threads, one by one building a web, it is almost insidious, unseen, each piece of delicate silk delivered quietly and landing softly, a conduit that gets stronger and stronger. Along these paths, we can send heavier and heavier things as it builds up strength, becomes something complex, binding, the sum of it incredible.
When we get to the point where the silk is wending its supple way inside, breathed in through the nose, silently slipping in through pores to find heart, lungs, mind, that’s the moment that we realise that we have created something almost unexpected, that this touch that we thought was feather-light was really steel-strong: sticky, and inescapable.
Beautifully drawn word picture. I just love the way you do that!
That is so beautiful.
So beautifully written and I can relate to it completely.
Ferns, while I appreciate your beautiful writing, please know your D/s-spider comparison will no doubt give me nightmares. *twitches* *checks hair for cobwebs for the millionth time*
It's on me, isn't it? IT'S ON ME!!! *exit, screaming*
I fancy that you are trailing these gossamer threads wherever you go, snaring the unsuspecting and unwary.
Look back and I expect you'll find your wake is teeming with entangled subs that can not but be dragged along behind you.
slapshot: “Beautifully drawn word picture. I just love the way you do that!”
*smile* Thank you, slapshot.
No smartarsery? Oh my, that makes me feel all warm and squishy.
N: “That is so beautiful.”
Thank you, it *feels* beautiful when it works just like that.
vegan_domme: “So beautifully written and I can relate to it completely.”
Thank you for saying so, and I'm glad you can relate. The 'me too' factor is always so lovely!
J: “Ferns, while I appreciate your beautiful writing, please know your D/s-spider comparison will no doubt give me nightmares. *twitches* *checks hair for cobwebs for the millionth time*”
*laugh* Then my work here is done!
You know *sly look*, I nearly used this picture, which is much less romantic and much more scary and alien and spider-ey… Just as well I didn't, eh?
Peroxide: “Look back and I expect you'll find your wake is teeming with entangled subs that can not but be dragged along behind you.”
Words cannot express how greatly amused I am by this image! That *so* explains why I get so exhausted going up the stairs!
I'm glad you didn't use that picture, its eerily sexual connotation scares me.
Beautiful and wonderful sketch about attraction. Similar to the web of Samisari [SIC] of Hindu belief of dharma and karma. *Nodding yes* ~~~/;;/|
It draws in my spider character image.
Fern, Beautiful metaphor just begun. There is an idea in philosophy called sceema wherein one's beliefs are constructed much like a spider web, where one tweak of on strand causes the whole to reverberate. As I said before, your writing brings out the spider in me: ~~~/;;/| I am male 52 overweight and require oxygen at times. I am also a pauper.
Fern, spider again. Disillusionment could remove some of the strands of scema; perhaps tear the whole construction down; then the patient spider must use patience and reserve resources to build it up again. Aw Heck, You only eat the ones who you really love.
Anonymous spider person: “your writing brings out the spider in me”
I shall assume that's a good thing!
“Heck, You only eat the ones who you really love.”
Unless you are kind of a slutty spider… then love doesn't come into it!
You began this lovely piece by referring to D/s flirting, and you of course threw the silk first. But then, you allowed the web to grow in symmetry. In the D/s story of my own imagination, the “s” is caught helpless in the web of the “D”, who circles him freely and hungrily. In your story, though, you were bound to him, just as he is bound to you.
Craig: “In the D/s story of my own imagination, the “s” is caught helpless in the web of the “D”, who circles him freely and hungrily.”
I think that concept works for many, and I can completely see why it's hot, but it's not for me.
I may feel predatory, but I don't want a helpless victim who simply doesn't have the strength or will to resist. What I want is the one who actively *chooses* to be with me, who dances with me as we become entangled, even if I am leading, he has to be right there.
“In your story, though, you were bound to him, just as he is bound to you.”
*smile* Yes, absolutely.
Fern, Thanks for the candor towards this Anonymous spider who dances a fine line between slutty and love, to get at her web, hypnotically enough to get away in order to live and die with the memory of mating. AS at least spiders can mate that way. Brad Pill And Angelia Jolie seem made for each other. And continue remake themselves to keep from letting boredom set in. spider/;;/|
That is an awesome simile for a relationship.