The return of sexual fantasy

My fantasy life has returned and brought creative expression along with it.

What I want to know is does that mean that when I am sexually and spiritually fulfilled, that my creative expression dies, or was something else going on? Something unhealthy?

One thing that has happened in the aftermath of ending my D/s relationship with a pro-Domme is the return of sexual fantasy.  I had written how living it, actually feeling that I was living the dream, had relegated fantasy to just plain gone.  Reality was so much richer.  I had always thought and have so often read that fantasy is most always better than reality when it comes to sex, but my experience was the opposite.  And the irony in that is that there was no sex. There was nothing even resembling sex.  But arousal?  Yes.  Oh Gosh, yes.

And what I find particularly interesting is that as she has faded from my life, my fantasies have come back.  They are only superficially changed, perhaps laced with more power exchange dynamics.  And with a backdrop of a dissolving marriage, I find myself wondering what will happen next, as I surely will not remain single for long.  

I have found that women of my rough age who are looking are quite predatory, and as you can imagine, I respond well to that.  The woman who knocks me out and drags me home by the hair is the one for me.  I have probably already met her.

And perhaps the most significant difference in my fantasy life is around this aspect—who it might be that I find myself drawn to.  And more importantly, what it will be like to be sexual with them.  I told a good friend the other day that I have no intention of stopping to see professionals.  And that would include if by some miracle my wife and I figure things out.  What I have discovered is how enriching and also non-threatening this kind of play can be.  How deeply therapeutic.

There was an exchange on Trans Twitter I really loved. OP noted how often she (AMAB) had been asked, “how do you actually have sex, now that your penis doesn’t work?” And the range of responses about sexual pleasure were truly inspiring. My favourite was the tongue-in-cheek reply of how sorry they were for the person who had posed the question.

The sacral chakra

And that kind of brings me to the point of this post.  That our fantasies, our erotic dreams, speak a language of our inner world.  People speak of shadow work, work with the unconscious.  It is the erotic which acts as a bridge between the light and dark, with our shadow selves.

Our sacral chakra, locus of sexual energy and creativity, is where this resides.  Physically, the sacral chakra extends from just below the belly button to our perineum, that sensitive space between anus and the base of whichever sex organs we possess.

The chakras are a central theme in Ayurvedic and other Near Eastern philosophies, and as such, are ancient concepts well integrated into physical, spiritual and wellness practices such as yoga.  This article is a wonderful read on the sacral chakra.

The sacral chakra is thought to be connected to our sexual energy, creativity and spontaneity, the inner child, the divine feminine.  It is associated with the colour orange.  You can’t make this stuff up.  I am an inhabitant of my own sacral chakra.  If there is any force that can be said to be the dominant one in my life, it is this one.

The moon has always had a strong pull on me.  The tides, the ocean too.  These are hugely symbolic of the feminine, the cycle of life, and are the essence of the sacral chakra.  The moon itself has been associated with fertility and femininity across so many different cultures—indeed, although this belief system has been labelled Ayurvedic, or Indian or Sri Lankan, many of its core beliefs and tenets about the spiritual realm have evolved independently in cultures all over the world.  You have to ask yourself, how come?

In ages past, the presence of nature in our lives was so much more real, more visceral.  It was felt and heard in ways that we barely understand today.  The moon was felt as linked to the tides, perhaps because you can feel it, and you can also observe it.  This cycle was linked to the menstrual cycle, as both follow the same rhythm, and our understanding that the feminine nature of life is bound up in our bodies, in the female body.

Separately, I wonder if this means that masculinity is defined as the opposite of the feminine, that it is somehow in opposition to nature, that it is innately forged to conquer nature, to tame it, to control it.  It would surely explain an awful lot, including how hard the masculine tries to dominate, but also how hard it struggles with surrender.  We can see where this opposition has gotten both society and the planet.  And the response of so many modern men to the backlash against toxic masculinity is to retreat into a childish state, and infantile state, is not much better. The feminine offers a better path to adulthood, and comes without this oppositional need to dominate, but offers the chance to come into harmony. [And no, the irony is not lost on me that this is coming from someone who enjoys being “diapered up”].

Thankfully for me, I have never felt this oppositional force even though my body outwardly signifies male…there is no doubt in my mind that my inner attachment to the female is born from this same energy, from the earth, that my love of the ocean, my need to be near the sea, my love of sleeping after a day in the waves and still feeling the pull of the tide on my limbs is all bound up in the expression and experiencing of female energy.

The significance of food and eating

Food is love. It is a passion on so many levels…eating it, thinking about it, looking at it, preparing it, writing about it, sharing it. Cooking for people is one of the most profound ways that I express love. Our appetite for food, our ability to take pleasure from food, has its locus in the sacral chakra.

I have wondered whether my love of food–a source of comfort and abundance based on a well-laden table and the kind of warmth that comes from happy friends conversing in a lively way, a little bit all at once–comes from not having been breast fed. That in part, I take sustenance from this, but I also become the mother figure by feeding those I love.

I’ve got this one bad. I know I have talked about a shopping addiction–and it has been an important part of easing the burden of dysphoria, as I have bought clothes. But you should see my kitchen, and all of the equipment. If I see it and don’t have it, I have to get it. Same for the larder. The abundance in the larder is unreal. When my family says to me, “we have nothing to eat,” I find myself looking in the refrigerator or in the larder and finding perhaps 20 meals worth of things to dish up.

Shadow sacral

Just as those characteristics resonate with me, so too do their shadows.  The sacral chakra is the seat of wounded emotion, secrecy, fear of judgement, repression, an inability to experience sexual or emotional intimacy.  An imbalance in the sacral chakra is experienced as feeling uncomfortable in your own body, an inability to connect emotionally or sexually, feeling “secretive” or afraid of intimacy…wow, that’s my life in a nutshell. Reiki was a practice I found was enormously liberating in this regard.

The healing powers of a dominatrix

I don’t know if she got there through intuition, or by observation, or whether “people like me” always have issues and opportunities in the sacral chakra.  But one of the very first times we played together, the dominatrix I was visiting diagnosed my lower belly as the locus of “my trauma”.  That is so accurate it is uncanny and it sparked so many different journeys.

We got there after an extended session of punching and slapping.  She had been punching me with her fist, both the flat of it, face on, but also the heel of it.  The blows were forceful and solid, and I loved how they felt thumping into me.  She switched to an open hand after laying me down, and slapped my upper back and shoulders, and buttocks and thighs for what seemed an endless time.  It stung, and I remember thinking how concerned I was for her hand.  She switched to a paddle for a while, something that resembled a ping pong paddle, and used that to tan my behind.

Then she stopped and I asked, “is your hand okay?”

“Of course it is, now shush,” she said with a laugh.  And then she reached under me and put her hand right on my sacral chakra, just below my belly button and began to knead my guts with her hand.  The second she did I started sobbing.  And it was like I was a tube of toothpaste, and as she squeezed me, sobs came out of my like some thick, gelatinous substance.  And her other hand was on my bag, gently caressing, and between the two, this deep flood of tears came flowing out.

After, I asked, “where did that come from?”  She explained to me about the sacral chakra (she actually talked about the lower belly without referencing chakras because I think she knew I didn’t know anything about them) and what kind of goodness and issues might reside there, and it made a lot of sense.  

Body Work

That was the evening over dinner that she told me about different kinds of psychotherapy that I had never heard of before—stuff like biodynamic cranio-sacral, somatic experience therapy, and also Rosen Method.

“I’d like you to look into these.  I think they will benefit you.  Not to replace your talk therapist, but as a supplement.  The kind of release you need is related to your body, and I think it is in your sacral chakra.”  Of course that is exactly what I did, and I have written about my experiences with all of them.

Today, the lead member of the posse is a somatic experience therapist.  My “favourite” therapist is a hypnotherapist and spiritual healer whose specialty is working with the inner child on attachment and attunement issues.  She has become my favourite most likely because her career and the essence of the work she does is focussed on the sacral chakra—the idea of holding space for the inner child is very much this kind of work, her regression work with me is all about feeling safe in the body, all healing modalities related to the shadows of the sacral chakra.

She is also the one who has pointed out to me the significance of the colour orange in my life—my first favourite colour.  I often see the colour orange in therapy sessions with her, and this started before I knew anything about chakras or their colours.  She also helped me to understand my cake eating tendencies during times of stress was directly related to the wounds of the sacral chakra—having missed the mother-baby bond of breast-feeding, of not having that fundamental sense of security.

The other thing that the dominatrix introduced me to that evening was the work of Dr. Gabor Maté.  The topic was ADD, and his book, Scattered Minds, finally put into words what I have experienced in my life through ADD.  In particular, that ADD is a gift for sensitivity, in both good and bad ways, and that it is often triggered by issues surrounding attachment and attunement.  This is my essence, and it also explains a lot about how I “play” within the context of BDSM.

Of course, when there is a “session” there is the feeling that we need to do something.  There is a kind of arc of experience, and in session, this was broadly the case.  We talked, she then did something to me (usually which involved the application of some kind of pain, but there were expections), I would then cry, and then she would wipe away my tears, hold me, and we would talk.  It’s kinda sweet, isn’t it?  But without the pressure of a session dynamic, my affinity would be to something more like simply inhabiting “space”.  A domme acquaintance, one I have written about from time to time, writes beautifully on the topic.  This is a link to a recent post of hers.

She is a lifestyle Domme who writes about BDSM.  She is very articulate and influenced me greatly when I first started down this path.  I also like that her pieces are so often quite thought-provoking.

In another post (now, you see, you will have to scour her website and read them all!) she wrote of an afternoon where she worked from home.  Under her desk, in collar and chains, knelt her partner.  Silent, unmoving, held in space.  If I am permitted to fantasise, that is the essence of submission to me.  It is the antithesis of the whirlwind of energy that I am.  It is calm, present, focussed, held, and so powerful.  When one thinks of what one might actually “do” with a dominatrix, it is kind of hard to imagine from the outside of the BDSM world, just how fulfilling something so basic and gentle might be.


This little meander down memory lane has been provoked by the return of sexual fantasy.  It has also come with the return of my creativity, and I find myself writing again at a furious pace.  Writing erotica is done from a kind “space” which in my case is almost pure submissive space.  I don’t think I am capable of writing from the left of the slash.  I don’t think I would even care to try.  What do they say in writing?  “Write what you know.”  I only know my own feelings.  I can only project myself into my stories.  But I am not writing erotica at the moment.  

I am writing about food, and am very excited to say that I have an editor now for a book that I wrote the draft of last year before I began in earnest to explore BDSM.  Thank goodness I finished the draft, as my foray into BDSM seems to have temporarily silenced my authorly muse.  In that sense, the blog has served me well, as writing so much has helped to keep me exercising the muscles.  Of possible concern?  That my recipe posts are the least read and liked posts that I put on here.  Of course, they are a bit slapdash, and are recipes that have not had the benefit of editing or many iterations through the trial kitchen, but still.  I will have to spice them up as they shift from her and into the vanilla world of cookbooks.

I am also excited to say that they are looking at a second book I have written, and which is actually in a much more finished state.  This one is more important to me, because it will break me out of one genre of cooking and into another one, which will give me freedom to roam wildly across the culinary landscape.

And, most importantly to me, the book I started the “November” challenge with in November of 2020, several months before meeting my first in-person Dominatrix, but at about the same time that I was in full catfish mode, is a book about love.  The November challenge was put out by a group of writers who set out to write 2,000 words a day, every day for thirty days, the result being 60,000 words, the average length of a novel.  The draft is done, and was done in about 30 days, and now I have let it sit for a year and a bit.  It is time to come back to it…ever so much wiser for the experiences I have, and to have finally tasted just a little bit just how delicious submission can be.

What do I know about love?  Well, dear reader, I love you.

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