October 24, 2011

Beastly Beauty


What do people dream about in the secrecy of their hearts? I suppose “It depends” is the closest we can get to an answer. An individual’s dreams and desires will be influenced by things like upbringing and education, experience, age, sex, and other demographics, current circumstances, media influence, advertising and similar brainwashing, and also by whatever mysterious pieces of the persona puzzle that are entirely their own. As you narrow down this question by grouping people, you’re able to generalize—a little. Take men, for instance. Men dream of many things: winning, controlling, gaining respect, becoming rich, making sure their genetic line is carried on, but often, until perhaps they are very old, their fondest dreams revolve around having sex with or acquiring women—not just ordinary women, but beautiful, hot women.

This underlying yearning never fully leaves a virile man, I suspect, no matter how sophisticated and wise he becomes, because it’s influenced by genes and powerful hormones that cause him to desire spreading his seed to as many reproductively fit females as is possible. “Fit” is, of course, a moving target in a cultured or (some would say) decadent society in which the most basic survival needs are easily met. A wild garden of fetishes and personal tastes flourishes around us. There is only one common denominator between such divergent tastes: men desire females they find physically appealing. Most men, despite the abundance of fetishes, are more mainstream than not regarding what they consider beautiful.

Women know this about men, of course. It’s one of the first things we females learn when we hit puberty: that beauty gives us a very pronounced advantage over less visually appealing women. That’s why, at that age, we start to make ourselves beautiful for men: so they will want us and give us what we want in return (satisfying emotional relationships, families of our own, a feeling of belonging or security). The power of feminine beauty should not be underestimated, even by those men and women who are experienced and know better. We still fall for it—virtually all of us. When a young and beautiful woman is greatly desired and pursued by many men, she learns one lesson quite well: she is a hot commodity in high demand, and can dictate her own terms to those males who compete for her attention. Recently on a social network, I “friended” such a woman. I was fascinated by the fact she had over 500 “friends,” almost every one a male, but virtually no profile and no activity on the network, just a few pictures of her gorgeous busty self. About once a week, she comes online and adds more friends, usually about twenty. She must have close to a thousand contacts by now.  What does she dream about in the secrecy of her heart? I have no way of knowing. “She” might also be a “he” just having some fun, but if she is the young woman I see in the photos, it’s almost impossible to think that she doesn’t believe she will find what she wants due to the fact that her beauty draws men to her like flies. It’s hard to be hot and not also arrogant as hell about that fact. It’s hard not to take for granted that no matter how badly you act, some men will still adore you and fall all over themselves to be around you.

Beautiful young women, sadly, are often arrogant and ugly on the inside. Someone who gets her own way with enough men often resembles a pristine peach, beautiful to view and to smell, but with a secret, rotted core that you only discover when biting into it. Not all beauties are like this, of course, but most seem to be. Increasing numbers have learned to hide their awareness under a veil of false modesty, but the majority tend to believe that no matter who the man is or what his circumstances are, they could “acquire” him with a simple beck. Their pride in their appearance, their vanity and smug sense of superiority—over both plainer women and the men who compete for their favor—is enormous.

It’s hard to be hot and not also arrogant as hell about that fact. It’s hard not to take for granted that no matter how badly you act, some men will still adore you and fall all over themselves to be around you.

What does this have to do with the humbled female? First, let’s look at things from the beauty’s perspective. Due to the way her attractiveness is treated and the way she processes that message (I am superior, fabulous, god’s gift to men), she is at a distinct disadvantage when it comes to humility. Humbleness, modesty, lack of entitlement, and the honest appreciation of male beauty: such concepts probably don’t exist in her mind. She’s likely used to the world revolving around herself, to others worshiping her, and her attraction to “serving” a man is, more often than not, just another way to prove to herself how very marvelous she is: “Look, I am drop dead gorgeous and I can be the very best slave that ever lived.” Instead of penitence, humility, and desire to worship someone greater than herself, service often is, for a beautiful young woman, just another story in which she plays the leading role and everyone else, including her chosen man, gets a bit part. Due to her charms, she’ll be able to convince a great many inexperienced men that she’s the perfect slave, and if one manages to hold on to her, they’ll both sink down into the standard mire: a very conventional couple “playing” at being Master and slave while the slave runs things from the bottom. The more beautiful a woman is, the more likely a typical man will be loath to let her go, and the more he’ll dance to her tune just to keep her with him. In addition to providing hot sex, she also provides him with a tremendous ego boost: he feels better than any other man around him because he’s got the hottest chick. He doesn’t even notice the derision he draws from others for being a slave in turn to her every whim and mood.

What do dominant men—real dominant men—dream about in the secrecy of their hearts? Again, this is not a question that is easily answered. The minds, let alone the hearts of such rare individuals are difficult to fathom, and almost impossible for a submissive female to understand, but I have noticed a few small things. One is that above all else they love control and power over others, but in particular over members of the sex they prefer (if they have a preference). If they are wise and experienced, they understand well how others’ responses to her beauty corrupts and spoils a woman, making her useless as a servant (at least at the moment, when she’s drunk on her own good looks and the power those bring her). They see straight through her false modesty to the vain little girl playing with “slavery” because she wants another feather to add to her cap, not because she has any sincere desire to submit completely to the will of another. In addition to vanity, they see how such women have bought the propaganda about “female equals superior” and how they believe their confused opinions, half-baked skills, and immature emotional sets are truly all the very best females have to offer. They are most certainly attracted by the young woman’s allure, but if her would-be Master is the least bit pragmatic and honest, he understands the slim-to-zero chance of her being anything worth owning over the long run. A beautiful woman, unless she has been completely isolated from everything this culture tells women about their power and “superiority,” will likely be so spoiled inside that she is nearly useless to anyone but herself, and certainly the opposite of what constitutes a good slave in the home. A man who cannot see through the glamour of her physical appearance and glimpse her actual soul: her deepest motivations and dreams, is not a man I would call a Master…he’s a potential tool, and little more than that.

I am not anti-beauty or bitter toward younger women, however much it may sound like it. I just know what it is like, intimately. I wasn’t an ugly duckling in my youth, young adulthood, or even middle adulthood. I frequently experienced that heady and vanity-driven rush of being among the more beautiful women in any gathering I found myself in. (Luckily, I came of age in a time when feminism wasn’t so entrenched so I missed the whole nonsensical “Females Are Great Simply Because They Have Vaginas” propaganda.) I grew used to being told I was the most beautiful woman a given man had ever seen, used to heads turning to watch me when I entered a public space, used to strange men bursting out in song when I entered an elevator with them or serenading me outside my dorm room door for weeks, or doing other things to catch my attention. I also wanted to be a slave to a man back then and I felt despair at ever achieving that dream because so many men responded to me like anything but. I wanted to be taken and used by a powerful man, and all I saw were puppy dogs trying every cute trick in the book they could think of to attract my attention. It was all so much the opposite of what I needed that I almost came to believe my secret fantasies were false and no man of the type I dreamed about at night existed.

I also came to believe the only reason any man would ever find me attractive was due to my looks, not to anything I was, intrinsically.

I also came to believe the only reason any man would ever find me attractive was due to my looks, not to anything I was, intrinsically. If there is any tragic aspect to beauty, it is this: not objectification per se, but a total reduction of your entire human self down to one tiny facet: your physical appearance—and a secret belief that you have nothing else to offer, that anything else you are is fairly unimportant. It is very hard to honestly assess your actual qualities, good and bad, when you’re drunk on your own attractiveness, because that is all you see.

A wise man, if I may be so bold as to speak of such things, understands the effects beauty has on a woman. Her beauty will in fact make it harder for her to pass his censors and suspicions, rather than easier, because it so often goes hand in hand with cluelessness about the giving, selfless emotional reliability of a humbled female. It is very hard for a beauty to believe that anyone could possibly resist her, but if anyone can, it will be a man used to keeping women. In order for a beautiful woman to submit, she needs to learn that her looks, nice as they are, are only the beginning of what she needs to be pleasing. If she doesn’t have the rest of the package or the potential to acquire the attitudes, wisdom, and understanding that accompany genuine submissiveness, her looks are useless and a waste to an authentically dominant man. Sometimes learning that lesson, that there is at least one man out there whom she wants but who is completely able to resist her charms, starts an attractive woman on the path to finding out what attracts those men she is mysteriously drawn to. “Why does he reject me when he has that ugly old hag as his slave? Surely he can’t be satisfied with THAT? What does she have that I don’t have?” If the beautiful brat can ask that last question sincerely, without assuming that the answer is, “Nothing—I am far greater than her in all qualities,” she might be able to learn something useful. Until she realizes that some men really do value other things higher than feminine beauty and that she cannot trump all cards with her looks, the attractive woman, even with submissive potential, is lost in a limbo partially of her own making. Its an insidious place to be in if you really need to serve and worship a man.

I was lucky in my first encounter with enslavement to have met a master who liked me, deeply, without ever seeing a single photo of me for the first four-six weeks after we met online. That early, “no face” correspondence gave me hope that maybe there was something to me besides my face that someone I found deeply attractive could like. I was lucky the second time around, too. While I was in the exact opposite situation: ugly now to the point of hideousness (due to lifestyle as much as aging), my second and last master still liked my basic personality enough to give me a chance. I also talked to him “faceless” for a couple of weeks, and when the time came to show him some images of myself, I felt deep despair. I was sure a man as hot and controlling as him would not be able to bear the sight of someone as ugly as me. But he surprised me: he still found something of value in me despite my ugliness, and gave me a chance. He has dictated that I change my lifestyle and become more attractive for him, and I have loved doing that for him. While I know I’ll never approach one-tenth the beauty I had in my youth, I feel that someday I’ll be passable, rather than something you cringe and want to look away from. At least I’ll be like that for a few years, until age robs me of even that. But unless dementia looms, age won’t be able to rob me of what I know about my abilities to be a good slave for someone.

Desire is a very strange thing. In some situations it can totally blind us. In other situations it is the guide that pulls us inexorably and truthfully along the paths we must follow in order to feel complete. What you dream about in the secrecy of your heart can tell you a lot about yourself as well as how to go about getting what you want. What your dreams cannot tell you, however, is whether this most cherished thing is genuinely worth having. Unless you are wise enough to follow the advice of others (and wise enough to know whose advice to follow and whose to ignore) you cannot know whether your cherished dream is worth obtaining. Instead, you usually must actually obtain your heart’s desire…and then see what happens. Doing this is often costly, most often in time, but you also pay other prices. Those men who have obtained a beautiful woman’s attention are relatively plentiful and can probably tell you whether it was worth the cost or not. After hearing several accounts, you can then make up your own mind. Those who have obtained the complete love and slavish devotion of a woman, although much rarer, can tell you something similar—assuming you can find them. If you do find one, my advice would be to listen to what they have to say, very carefully.