A Woman's Right. 3. My Story; the origin of the idea.
The first two episodes of this series: 'A Woman's Right: Size Matters' are fictional expressions of the idea that while Small Penis Humiliation, Cuckoldry, Female Domination, Cheating Wife fantasies are classed as forms of sexual fetish, they all have foundations in real lives, lived experiences of marriage, family and human social relations.
My contention is that we should celebrate, validate and recognise our shameful kinks as instinctive indicators guiding us to accept what we are, what we need and where to meet that need.
I feel compelled at this juncture to ground the fictional expression of these ideas in the reality from whence they came. So, in this chapter I will depart from the storyline to give you an honest and truthful account of the real events that gave birth to that philosophy.
If you've read Episodes 1 and 2 in the series please rest assured that the story will be picked up in Episode 4.
Perhaps I have a need to give credit to the woman who I first heard proclaim a woman's right to sexual satisfaction over any other consideration.
Her words, uttered at the time as a casual observation, without a great deal of thought, knocked the breath out of me the moment I heard them. They still have that power. Raw, harsh, undeniable and spoken without any thought for my feelings.
My shame, humiliation, excitement, envy, anger, my fetish fantasies were utterly irrelevant. And that hurt.
I hope that by telling this story between the chapters of fiction I can imbue the whole series with a little of that intensely erotic pain and power.
Everything I am about to tell you really happened. The only thing I've changed are the names of the protagonists.
My Story
We'd been working at a small grass roots festival in the south of England; me and my wife Charlotte. This was something I did several times each summer back then.
Charlotte wasn't so keen on festival working as I was. She would come with me once, maybe twice a year.
The festivals were run by a woman called Rhi who had built them up from a small stage over years and it was her festival; she booked the bands, she owned the marquee and brought us all together to create a magical, sexy, creative, anarchic, matriarchal world in her own image. Generally most of the key positions of responsibility were held by women.
This influenced how things were done and the way we behaved. While there were clear hierarchies it felt less rigid and dull than if it were run by men. Ironically, with women in positions of power, men had value, like a commodity, sometimes fought over.
I had no problem with working under women. In fact I liked it. I never associated this with anything kinky. It had absolutely nothing to do with any submissive sexual fantasies about serving powerful dominant women. No. I knew my role, I did my job and that's all there was to it. In any case it would be sleazy to sexualise our working relationships.
However I am very comfortable when I'm around strong, assertive women who have a position of power over me. I admit that I can develop strong feelings of loyalty and devotion which makes me crave their approval and attention. If that makes me submissive so be it.
The other men at the festival noticed how I behaved and gently teased me for the way I allowed myself to be bossed around and shouted at by women when I let them down. Which I often did through overindulgence.
This might have been one of the reasons Charlotte often stayed at home instead of coming with me to the festivals, even when our daughters were grown up. She occasionally made scornful remarks implying that I was scared of Rhi and the other women which I ignored.
Of course Charlotte knew all about my fetishes: before the kids were born we had got into a bit of role play - she bought a dominatrix outfit, boots and a riding crop and had me address her as "Mistress of the Universe", making me kiss her boots and whipping my bottom (not too hard - I may be submissive but I hate pain!).
When she did come to a festival Charlotte fitted right in. She got on with the other women, inevitably spending more time with them than with me. They'd all invite her into their vans and converted buses, let her borrow their colourful skirts, jackets, layers of petticoats, corsets (which gave her large breasts a high, trembling cleavage), tattered fishnets and knee high doctor marten boots, to make a festival outfit for her. This was how they all dressed; practical and sexy, great for moving gear across muddy fields as well as dancing in mud and getting on to the stage with the band at the end of the show. Charlotte always looked amazing.
I'd enjoyed this particular festival. I was always better behaved when my wife was there. When I came on my own I would let myself down: I drank too much, took drugs, stayed up all night, got in with the most feral bunch of guys, forgot to eat and always made a fool of myself.
We'd had a really good crew as well. A new stage manager called Gabby had come along and really made a difference. Gabby was a proper hippy. A woman with a striking appearance; tall, beautiful, broad shouldered, well built with long red dread locks. But she was also a serious experienced professional, exacting and demanding - a real leader.
Gabby stayed off drink and drugs during the festival and expected a level of sobriety from her crew while we were on shift. She'd quickly recognised that Charlotte was as assertive and sober as her and adopted my wife as her deputy over the regular festival crew of itinerant crusties and flaky daytrippers (myself included) who were only there for the booze and drugs. As a result my wife had to tell me what to do and tell me off for sloping off for a smoke and a drink with the lads. Despite (or because of that) I was very proud of her.
Anyway. When the events I need to recount happened the actual festival was over. Most of the punters had left the site. The portable toilets, wire fencing, generators and hired sound equipment had been trucked off. We were beginning to take the stages and bars down, collect litter and broken tents into piles,
The take down would go on for days. This first night was our chance to relax, party, resolve quarrels that had erupted over the weekend, finish off the beer and cider that couldn't be returned. It was the best night of the festival.
Crew members would often couple up with each other; a festival hand, cook, cabaret performer or sound engineer, who they'd been flirting with all weekend, they would cuddle by the firepit, drop a little pill and slope off to a van or tent to consummate their mutual desire. Nobody minded the sound of hippies fucking: caravans rocking and the cries, grunts and gasps of orgasm ringing out across the festival site.
I sat around a firepit with Gabby, Charlotte and half a dozen women, who had been working together on the main stage.
Now her job was done Gabby allowed herself to have a drink, smoke some weed and relax.
"I usually get off as soon as I've done my job and got paid" She announced.
"But I've really enjoyed working with you lot. It'll be nice to stay tonight, chill out and chat."
She and Charlotte clinked and drained their tankards.
"We need more drink. I bet there's a box of that good cider behind the bar. I think we deserve that." Laughed Gabby.
Charlotte nodded.
"I know there is. Dave hid it behind the bins. Didn't you Dave? I saw you stashing it for you and your crusty mates to have later."
Gabby frowned at me:
"Ooh you little robber. Go and get it now or I'll tell Rhi. She won't be happy you nicking her stock. Go on. Off you pop!"
She clapped her hands and I ran off to fetch the cider.
Back at the firepit Gabby told me to fill their mugs. As I served them she nudged my wife:
"He's a good little wench isn't he, your husband"
Charlotte nodded and gave me a look:
"You're right. He is a good little wench."
We sat and drank round the fire as the sun went down.
Charlotte and Gabby were giggly.
More women joined us. Some were very relaxed. It was them pills, they confessed very mellow and gentle.
Gabby reached into her pocket.
"I just remembered someone gave me a pill for tonight. I only want half. Charlotte, will you have the other half, with me? It'll be nice."
Charlotte rarely takes any drugs. She paused before nodding.
"Yeah. Why not. Fuck it. That'll be nice. Thank you."
Gabby split the pill and told Charlotte to open her mouth. She placed the half pill carefully between her lips and stroked her face before taking the other half herself.
Before long they were both grinning and holding hands.
Charlotte let out a loud sigh:
"Oh wow. I'm not used to this. I feel very funny."
Gabby soothed her and soon Charlotte was beaming.
"I feel tingly, inside. Nice."
The quiet was broken by the sound of a woman moaning very loudly in orgasm from a tent across the field. It went on for ages. We listened until she became more quiet.
