To an extent.. I get your Insanity thing. But its not a fetish for me. More like an interest. I always like completely random, bat shit crazy people. That being said, that laugh was creepy as fuck.
That laugh makes me just want to start laughing right along with it. Nah, seriously though... that's kind of how it started for me. I just think insanity is very interesting anyway, but at that time in my life I was very desperately searching for ways to escape. It started occurring to me that there really isn't a break from reality more direct and severe than insanity, and since I was just extremely depressed at the time my thoughts were very dark, so I latched on to this show and couldn't let go. That's when I started to develop the feelings.... The laugh is symbolic. She's fucking LOST it! Hearing it makes me feel like that too. I just wanted to leave this world behind so bad.... I used to fantasize about being a murder victim for the same reason. Don't even get me started on that. Thinking about that can still get me somewhere too, like the laugh, but they're just relics. Still conditioned into my subconscious reactions, but not actually linked to my personality. I've gone through quite a lot since those days and I'm actually very happy with my life right now.
Oh geez, this again. >.< I just don't get the foot fetish. Is it... Is it... Is it, like... the shape? the smell? What about them exactly is attractive?? I mean I get that it's just an unexplainable attraction to feet, but there have to be certain qualities you prefer, right?
Oh geez, this again. >.< I just don't get the foot fetish. Is it... Is it... Is it, like... the shape? the smell? What about them exactly is attractive?? I mean I get that it's just an unexplainable attraction to feet, but there have to be certain qualities you prefer, right?
All fetishes seem equally as unexplainable to me. The only "fetishes" that have any sort of reasoning are those that were caused by evolution, a fetish for breasts, the hourglass shape and whatever have you. Qualities that triggers something sexual. But it's just so hard to zoom in on it and focus on the individual qualities. What is it about breasts that so many men are attracted to? Is it the round shape? The nipple? The texture? The way I see it, it just doesn't work if you zoom in on it like that. Nobody would like a room full of boobs. It has to be attached to a full body or it won't work.
Using myself as an example, I'll have to just say yes to "the shape?". Can't really expand on that. Just, yeah.
It annoys me greatly that I can't explain fetishes, my sexuality is already plenty fucked up, including a foot fetish, but there's just no explaining it. It isn't the toes, it isn't the nails, nor the heel, nor the shape.. It's the whole thing in the right context. Or something.
Oh geez, this again. >.< I just don't get the foot fetish. Is it... Is it... Is it, like... the shape? the smell? What about them exactly is attractive?? I mean I get that it's just an unexplainable attraction to feet, but there have to be certain qualities you prefer, right?
Waitwut - seriously??
The person who posted this: "What gets me going is the thought of the breakdown of consensus reality from my point of view."
Actually she did say that it is indeed unexplainable, but asked for us to name the qualities of a foot that makes it attractive.
Just like I'd be really interested to see a dendrophile name what makes him or her attracted to trees. It's a mindset I purely cannot comprehend, which means it would be really interesting to know. Is it the bark? How tall it is? How wide it is? How long the branches are? The color of the leaves? Oh the mysteries!
But I imagine it's the same way. It is really hard to do this, I can't tell what makes me like the things I like.
Hey, I did give a lot of background information about my fetishes. Thank you Maeni. That is all I'm asking, if there are certain things about different feet that make them stand out, or if it's just all feet in general. I guess it is the latter. I figured there'd be something more specific, but I guess it's just like love. When you find the foot for you, you'll know it.
*later edit*
I was going to put this in the original post but I was using my phone internet and I had low battery so I just sent what I had!
Originally Posted by Maeni
Nobody would like a room full of boobs. It has to be attached to a full body or it won't work.
Hmmm.... My preferences are a little... abstract... but I think the fact that it normally is attached to a body could work for me. If I worked it in properly, anyway. I wouldn't just want a big pile of boobs, but I could go for boobs in ordered or geometric structures, like having the walls and floor and ceiling lined with boobs, or a bed made of boobs (soft! ), or alternatively things set in infinite recursion, like falling through a bottomless lattice tunnel of boobs. Kind of like this but with boobs instead of eyes:
That last one would be more transpersonal though. I haven't actually used this in a fantasy, but I have used a certain male equivalent. Interestingly... I think if I were to go with the bed one, I would actually want it to be for being in the bed with a guy. It seems to match up to me.
Last edited by Alyzarin; 11-21-2011 at 11:19 PM.
Reason: Didn't get to finish typing!
Anyways, yeah I really dunno about feet.
Well it ain't a fetish (stupid semantics), but as everybody on DV already knows, I'm a pedo attracted to prepubescent little girls... Guess it is relevant here.
Again it's hard to say why or what exactly does it, it doesn't make any sense. Is it the size? The lack of breasts? The face? If it's the lack of breasts, then why don't I like little boys?
Nonsense all around!
And, actually, I don't think it's just all feet in general. For me I guess it's like, well, if it's in a specific posture. I suppose, a curled up foot looks better than one spreading it's toes, that's just nasty. And if the bones are too visible, that's terrible as well. I guess they have to be sort of rounded, soft? Not too long, not too bony. Toes not too spread apart, not too crammed together, and I don't even know what I'm saying!
Or maybe it's just because feet is one of those parts of the body that is usually covered, so when they're uncovered, it feels a little like nakedness?
I tried to post a foot fetish explanation earlier but had connection problems.
When you are raised to consider both the privates and the feet as dirty they become associated with each other and worse yet the foot actually acts as a protection against facing the emotional charge caused by those dirty, dirty privates.
Foot fetishes have higher occurrence in more sexually repressed areas (like Utah, porn capital of the world or Japan, fetish capital of the world)
Anyways, yeah I really dunno about feet.
Well it ain't a fetish (stupid semantics), but as everybody on DV already knows, I'm a pedo attracted to prepubescent little girls... Guess it is relevant here.
Again it's hard to say why or what exactly does it, it doesn't make any sense. Is it the size? The lack of breasts? The face? If it's the lack of breasts, then why don't I like little boys?
Nonsense all around!
And, actually, I don't think it's just all feet in general. For me I guess it's like, well, if it's in a specific posture. I suppose, a curled up foot looks better than one spreading it's toes, that's just nasty. And if the bones are too visible, that's terrible as well. I guess they have to be sort of rounded, soft? Not too long, not too bony. Toes not too spread apart, not too crammed together, and I don't even know what I'm saying!
Or maybe it's just because feet is one of those parts of the body that is usually covered, so when they're uncovered, it feels a little like nakedness?
I love that picture. Some things are harder to explain, for sure. I'm glad you took another stab at the foot fetish, though. I figured there had to be SOME preferences!
Originally Posted by Omnis Dei
I tried to post a foot fetish explanation earlier but had connection problems.
When you are raised to consider both the privates and the feet as dirty they become associated with each other and worse yet the foot actually acts as a protection against facing the emotional charge caused by those dirty, dirty privates.
Foot fetishes have higher occurrence in more sexually repressed areas (like Utah, porn capital of the world or Japan, fetish capital of the world)
That actually makes a lot of sense. And I was not raised to think of my privates as nasty at all so it's no wonder I don't have that particular fetish.
Well it ain't a fetish (stupid semantics), but as everybody on DV already knows, I'm a pedo attracted to prepubescent little girls... Guess it is relevant here.
What's worse? Attraction to adolescence or attraction to violence and physical torture?
I'm thankful for my fetish, though I also hate it for the confusion it breeds within. But at least my fetish is on the submissive side of things so I not only have a window into the mind of the abnormal but even in my weakest moments I'm incapable of harming anyone but myself.
I am not sure this is a fetish but I get off on imagining my fiance with other women, cheating preferably. Some of our best sex has been when I made him close his eyes and imagine another women, calling her name, telling her that she is better than me. He doesn't like it as much as I do. He gets frustrated with me sometimes. I think that I take it farther than he is willing to most of the time. I also like to be hit, bit, and squeezed extremely hard. I like girls that look fairly young. If I think of more I will be sure to post...
While I was gone it occurred to me that I could reply to this thread with an excerpt, to maybe freak some people out lol. So I've decided to do that.
This is an excerpt from the first book called The Darkness that Comes Before of a fantasy series The Prince of Nothing, which kind of 'struck me' when I read it. It really isn't anything that intense, but I read it about 5 years ago and still remember it well. I started typing a bit before the actual scene, but it seemed somewhat necessary. And yes, I typed this all from the book, and it took a long time.
Spoiler for Contains sexuality:
"You say you love me," Achamian had cried, "and yet you still take custom. Tell me why, Esmi! Why?" Because I knew you would leave me. All of you leave me ... all the ones I love.
"Esmi," Psammatus was saying. "Esmi. Please don't cry, my sweet. I'll return next week. I promise."
She shook her head and wiped the tears from her eyes. Said nothing. Weeping for a man! I'm stronger than this!
Psammatus sat beside her to bind his sandals. He looked pensive, even scared. Men such as Psammatus, she knew, came to whores to escape uncomfortable passions as much as to glut them.
"Have you heard of a young priest named Inrau?" she asked, hoping to at once set him at ease and carry on a pathetic remnant of her life with Achamian.
"Yes, I have, in fact," Psammatus replied, his profile both puzzled and relieved. He's the one they say committed suicide."
The same thing the other said. News of Inrau's death had caused a great scandal in the Hagerna. "Suicide. You're certain of this?" What if it's true? What will you do then, Akka?
"I'm certain that's what they say." He turned and looked at her somberly, running a finger down her cheek. Then he stood and hooked his blue cloak - the one he used to conceal his vestments - on his arm.
"Leave the door open, would you?" Esmenet asked.
He nodded. "Well met, Esmi."
"Well met."
In the gathering shadows of evening, Esmenet stretched naked across the sheets and drowsed for a short time, her thoughts wheeling through regret after regret. Inrau's death. Achamian's flight. And as always, her daughter ... When her eyes fluttered open, a figure darkened her door. Someone waiting.
"Who are you?" she asked wearily. She cleared her throat. Without a word, the man walked to the side of her bed. He was tall, even statuesque, wearing a coal black coat over a silvered brigandine and a black tunic of crushed damask. A new customer, she thought, looking into his face with the innocence of the recently awakened. A beautiful one.
"Twelve talents," she said, leaning up from the covers. "Or a half-silver if you - "
He slapped her - hard. Esmenet's head snapped back and to the side. She fell face first from her bed.
The man cackled. "You're not a twelve-talent whore. Decidedly not."
Her ears ringing, Esmenet scrambled on all fours and threw her back against the wall.
The man sat on the end of her crude bed and began pulling off his leather gloves finger by finger. "As a matter of etiquette, one should never begin a relationship with lies, whore. It sets an unfortunate precedent."
"We have a relationship?" she asked breathlessly. The entire left side of her face was numb.
"Through a mutual acquaintance, yes." His eyes lingered on her breasts for a moment before flickering between her thighs. Esmenet allowed her knees to part a bit more, as though an accident of exhaustion.
"And who would that be?" she asked, heart hammering in her chest.
The man gazed below her navel with the shamelessness of a slave-owner. A certain mandate schoolman" - he drew his eyes up as though from a reverie - "named Druses Achamian." Akka. You knew this would happen.
"I know him," she said cautiously, resisting the urge to once again ask the man who he was. Don't ask questions. Ignorance is life.
Instead she said, "What do you want to know?" She let her knees drift farther apart. Be the whore ...
"Everything," the man replied with a heavy-lidded smirk. "I want to know everything, and everyone, he has known."
"It'll cost," she said, trying to steady her voice. "Both will cost." You must sell him.
"Why am I not surprised? Ah, business. It makes everything so straight-forward, does it not? He hummed under his breath as he rooted through his purse. Here ... Eleven copper talents. Six to betray your body, and five to betray the Schoolman." A savage grin. "A fair estimation of their relative worth, don't you think?"
A half-silver, at least," she said. "For each." Barter ... Be the whore.
"Such conceit!" he replied, nevertheless dipping two pale fingers back into his purse. "How about one of these?"
She looked at the shining gold with frank hunger.
"It'll do," she said, her mouth dry.
The man grinned. "I imagined as much."
The coin disappeared and he began undressing, watching her with feral honesty as she hastened to light candles against the evening gloom.
When the time came, there was something animal in his proximity, a smell or heat that spoke directly to her body. He cupped her left breast in a heavy, callused hand, and any illusion she had of using his lust as a weapon evaporated. His presence was overwhelming. As he lowered her to the bed, she feared she might swoon. Be compliant ...
He knelt before her and effortlessly pulled her raised hips and spread legs across his thighs. And she found herself aching for the moment she had feared. Then he was inside. She cried out. What's he doing to me? What's he doing -
He began moving. His mastery over her body was inhuman. Soon one gasping moment slurred into another. When he caressed her, her skin was like water, alive with shivers that rippled across her, through her. She began writhing, grinding against him with desperation, moaning through clenched teeth, drunk with nightmarish ecstacy. Through her pained eyes he seemed her burning centre, blurring into her, flooding her with rapture after rapture, thrust after thrust. Time and again, he would bring her to the ringing brink of climax, only to pause, and ask questions, endless questions ...
"And what precisely did Inrau say about Maithanet?"
"Don't stop ... Pleaase."
"What did he say?" Tell the truth.
She remembered trying to pull his face down to her own, gasping, "Kiss me ... Kiss me."
She remembered his thick chest pressing against her breasts, and shuddering, crumbling beneath him as though made of sand.
She remembered lying still and sweaty with him, panting for air, feeling the thick throb of his heart through his member, his slightest movement like lightning between her thighs, and agonizing bliss that made her weep and groan with wild abandon.
And she remembered answering his questions with urgency of pounding hips. Anything! I would give you anything!
When she climaxed for the final time, she felt as though she'd been pitched from a precipice, and she heard her own husky shrieks as though from afar, shrill against the thunder of his dragon roar.
Then he withdrew and she felt ransacked, her limbs trembling, her skin numb and cold with sweat. Two of the candles were gutted, but the room was illuminated in grey light. How long?
He was standing above her, his godlike frame shining in the glow of the remaining candle. "Morning comes," he said.
The golden coin fluttered in his hand, bewitching her with its glitter. He held it above her and let it slip between his fingers. It plopped onto the sticky pools across her belly. She glanced down and gasped in horror.
His seed was black.
"Shush," he said, gathering his finery. Say a word of this to no one. Do you understand, whore?"
"I understand," she managed, tears now streaming. What have I done?
She stared at the coin and the Emperor's profile across it, remote and golden against downy pubic hair and slopes of bare skin - skin threaded and smeared by glistening pitch. Bile flooded the back of her throat. The room became brighter. He's opening the shutters. But when she looked up, he was gone. She heard the arid slap of wings receding into the dawn.
Cool morning air rushed through the room, rinsing away the stench of inhuman rutting. But he smelled of myrrh.
Esmenet rolled over and vomited across the floor.
Hehe, well I don't read much (other than manga) so my tolerance for such things is low. Eeeeeh... I skimmed over it and almost got sucked in again. My brain is melting....
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