Why the fur and hats?

While a few of my readers here are familiar with my backstory, I know that a number of people here are more recent followers.  I will do my best to explain this without having it turn into a 10k word biography.  If anyone has further curiosities or questions that they wish to leave via comments or through the contact form I will be happy to answer them in either email, comment, or post form.

I started pre-school at the age of two.  Aside from my sister, this was pretty much my first experiences socializing with a peer group.  I am Asian and was adopted, living with a white family in a 99% white community.  It didn’t take long for the naivete of youth to be shattered and cursed with self-awareness.  I was bullied for being different.  I was teased about my facial features, stalked, harassed, and humiliated about being uncircumcised, and so on.  No one really did anything about it back then, citing “boys will be boys.”

My parents grew up poor and were big believers in hand-me-downs.  This meant that my first big wheel, bicycle, sled, ice skates, kite, and so on were hand-me-downs from my sister.  While I got teased for them, I really didn’t get too upset about it since I would rather be riding a girl’s bike than not have a bike, I would rather be sledding on a pink sled than not have a sled, and so on.  It was usually one or two boys that were responsible for the teasing and I learned to write them off as assholes.

I wasn’t strong enough to handle the hand-me-downs of winter clothes.  The boots and snow pants with the pink stripe.  The purple bobble hat and matching mittens with a flowery pattern knitted into the backs of the hands.  This type of teasing was the worst.  It was no longer just one or two boys, it was everyone, including all the girls.  I didn’t want to wear them.  I didn’t want to go to school anymore.  Without a hat and gloves I wouldn’t be allowed out for recess.  My parents wouldn’t buy me my own.  At some point, being forced to wear winter clothes that I knew would get me made fun of became a battle of wills, and they broke my will.  It was my first experience (while having a consciousness) with feeling completely helpless and forced to submit to the will of someone with more power.

At some point I was able to get out of wearing hats, claiming they were too itchy and made me too hot.  The fact that it was so upsetting to me that I would vomit helped my cause.  Starting at age three on, I wore a winter hat outside a total of three times.  Each time it was forced upon me by a friend’s parent.  Each time it made me so upset inside that I felt ill.  Ill like I felt while being humiliated by 20 of my peers.

It was my first Mistress, K, that discovered forcing me to wear a girlie winter hat would act as a trigger for my submissive mental space.

After I refused to wear winter hats, my mother bought me a pair of earmuffs.  When I wore them, my sister and her friends teased me so badly that I ended up in tears.  This hurt even worse than the hat/mittens.  I never wore them again.

The hat and earmuffs that show up in my drawings and fiction are sort of my “worst case scenario” of humiliation.  Both affect me strongly enough to wake up traumatic feelings and deepen my submission.  This space is both submissive and little.

Fur affects me in different ways but it all starts with being an infant.  It was very dry during the winter and I used to rub my face against the bottom of the crib I was in.  My skin would get so chapped that it would crack and bleed.  To fix this, my mother put various soft items in my crib hoping I would rub against those, and it worked.  One of the items was a rabbit fur pelt.  I loved how it felt.

I ended up really enjoying the touch of fur.  My mother had a fur coat.  My sister had a fur coat.  When no one was around I would pet them in the closet and rub them against my cheek.  One day at age four my sister caught me and shamed me to tears about it (and my mother supported her side).  From then on I buried it as a deep dark secret.  I would pet them when no one was around.  if we were in a store and they had fur I coudln’t resist touching it.  If we were at someone else’s house and they had fur in the closet I would secretly pet it.  I felt screwed up.  It made me feel embarrassed and ashamed.

I was able to rid myself of the need to touch fur but when I would see it, I would secretly gaze upon it with longing.  Only women wore fur.  I would watch them.  At some point while watching them I began to notice beauty.  At some point I began to see a woman in fur as the most beautiful thing on the planet.  It makes me want to worship her and submit.  It triggers my “adult” submissive.

There is another way that fur affects me and that is at the prospect of wearing it.  As I wrote about the hat and earmuffs, my experiences with severe humiliation and shaming happened with a hat with a fur pom pom and fuzzy faux fur earmuffs.  Anything even remotely similar makes my skin crawl and it triggers my submission.  Additionally, there is the mountain of guilt and shame around my desire to touch fur that I carried for 20+ years.  My sister’s words still ring in my ears: freak… pervert… sicko.  The prospect of wearing any fur makes me excited because I want to touch it but then I get crushed under the shame.  If I want to wear it… it makes me a freak… pervert… and a sicko.  And besides, fur is always on women’s clothes… which opens a new can of guilt and shame.

For years since entering the lifestyle I assumed that since being forced to wear those types of women’s clothes and being humiliated for it aroused me, that I was a sissy.  I have since learned that they are my submissive triggers that carry with them embarrassment, shame, and humiliation.

Things get twisted up inside of me in a needlessly complex way.  However, this has always been wielded as a useful tool by the Dommes I have served.  Think of it as an “easy button” for pushing me so deeply into my submission that I cannot do anything but obey.

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4 thoughts on “Why the fur and hats?

  1. F…. I always tell you how much I admire you as a man, as a sub, as a slave, as a writer, and as a friend. Your mind holds my attention more than anyone I have ever known. Your thoughts, your perspectives, and your ability to put them into words astounds me. As much as i may confuse you 😉 your words deepen my respect for you. As a Domme, I feel that respecting the submissive for the gift they have offered to us and the gifts they have which made them be who they are should be praised. As I am writing this is see your eyes looking down at your hands and your cheeks turning red… But I will always praise you cause your worth it… Thank You
    Ms. Red

    Liked by 1 person

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