...heh...
Perhaps I'm not entirely sure of what you mean by this, but I do have to add something to this statement.
It is in my experience, that the desire to succumb to, and/or dominate over, a situation, fear, object or person has little to do with the sex of the individual.
It can be true as well for men, who undergo bondage to also be effect of this element of 'spirit'. Human beings in general, are cursed with a pride that goes deep into our psycology. We are victims of vanity. Targets to humiliation. Bondage in itself may be liberating, but it is only liberating due to the chains of self-limitation.
If we were truly free on a daily basis. When we go to work. When we study at school. When we go grocery shopping. Why do people seek out a funnel for release, in some way, shape or form.
We are trapped within a social, and cultural bondage. We all know this. But what we satisfy here, is more of a personal leash. One that not everyone shares, or even knows about. To many people, standing before their lover nude, is itself, a freedom. Some however can't tolerate it. They accept it during the act of making love, but some never get over the entire experience. If you've ever made love in front of a mirror, or had someone slowly undress before a mirror, you will see many reflections other than the ones displayed on the glass...
So even clothes can be sonsidered bondage...one we accept gladly. But why do some of us seek further to bind ourselves? Is it truly a masochistic idea? Are we truly trying to influence ourselves negatively? I fought with myself over this one sometime ago. But I realise it's entirely different in itself, than mere masochism.
There is a point in bondage, where at some point, you give up trying to create a futile destiny. Where you're always making something occur, being the cause of an event, rather than it's effect. The thought of losing control over our limbs is intself a deep rooted fear in our very genetics...and yet, there is a subtle point during the entire process of bondage, especially in relation to tickling, where ones conflict becomes one release.
You stop trying to work. You stop trying to think about the next step. About what direction you're going to go, or how you're going to do it. If in the hands of a good tickler, it's even possible to stop caring about where he/she is going to tickle next, or how intense it will be. At some point you sort of become something else, no longer bound to the limitations of concious thought. A receptacle of sensations. Wether that of pain or pleasure...
This is a frightening idea for some. Almost as frightening as jumping off a plane. Despite the parachute, is there ever this reassurance that everything will be ok? There is always this tinge of fear when you break away from the safety of our own decisions, and put ourselves in the hands of another.
...my wife taught me this.
It's all an adventure. It may be made of the finest cloth or leather. Be as loose or tight as one desires. It can be in so many forms. But perhaps the strongest bondage is that of our minds. When to let go, and when to hold on for dear life. When it comes to the love of my life, I realised that I was sometimes, going to have to trust her with everything in my heart. To let myself go to her without limitation. In, and outside the bedroom. Perhaps the best bondage I have ever been in has been her arms. Where I can stop being the hardcore soldier, and let myself go.
Good luck finding your place in nirvana. 🙂 I found mine.
---Ace
(Signing off for 30 days. Field Duty in Germany. Out. ^^)