Comfort Object Read Online
Destini Armstrong
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The start of their formal Dom/sub relationship is rocky, but they soon fall into a mutually satisfying, highly sexual routine. They play vanilla boyfriend and girlfriend in public, while Jeremy uses Nell as his kinky comfort object behind the scenes. Then a stalker threatens their secret lifestyle, and their contract may not be strong enough to hold them together.
He was beautiful. No,
beautiful
was not the word for it. He was godlike, breathtaking, astounding, life-changing. I'd been working at the Eden Fetish Club for five years now, and I had never seen a male specimen like this come through the door. He was golden. His faded jeans fit perfectly over his taut, muscular ass, and his black tee concealed a thick, sculpted torso. He was at least six feet two, maybe taller, with wavy dark hair that framed a classically handsome face. Prominent jaw, and the kind of full, sensuous lips that made me think naughty thoughts. His eyes were set deep and communicated an animal sexuality. Even the way he moved reeked of sex. Everyone in the main dungeon, dominant and submissive and undecided, turned to look as he walked by.
He walked around for a while, taking his time, checking people out. He was shopping. Everything ratcheted up. Scenes got louder, harder, more intense. Doms' voices got more authoritative, subs' cries and moans grew more heartfelt and deep. He was new, he was unattached, he was shopping, and he was something else. Was he a top? A bottom? Both? Neither? Who cared? Everybody wanted him.
I was getting my ass thoroughly beaten by a client when the stranger's gaze fell on me. I wondered if he found me attractive at all. I had a nice body, petite and curvy. My heart-shaped ass was a favored target for Eden's Doms. My pussy was waxed bare, and I wore the typical submissive's uniform at Eden, a skimpy garter belt and a black O-ringed collar at my neck. I had red hair, which helped me stand out in a crowd, but my eyes were probably my best feature. Besides their unusual pale green color, they looked slightly ethnic, slanted and wide set. I could drop my lashes over my eyes or peer up and bat them innocently. I had long ago mastered the pleading, vulnerable look.
I tried to concentrate on the job at hand, being his devoted slave, because he was paying me to be, but it was difficult. As I writhed and sobbed under Jack's blows, I knew, guiltily, that I was putting on a show for
him
. Yes, I wanted him to want me. Beauty was desirable, but oh so rare in clubs like these. Jack, bless his heart, had long since passed his prime. But Jack was a great dominant and a loyal customer, so God, I tried to concentrate on him. I took my job seriously. I really tried to be a great sub to everyone who wanted to play.
When Jack finished with me thirty minutes later, Mr. Gorgeous was still standing there, watching me come down. Everyone else had gone back to their own scenes. It was clear now he'd made his choice.
I
was his choice. I was a little jittery about it, which was silly, being a professional sub.
Whether they're cosying up to a velvety blankie or cuddling a flea-bitten dog toy, comfort objects are a positive addition to little people's lives. They have a special way of supporting babies and children as they rest, play, and grow; and over time, these well-loved items become part of the family.
As the name suggests, comfort objects are items that provide comfort to infants and children to help them feel calm and secure. They're usually snuggled at bedtime but can soothe youngsters through the day as well.
These objects are also known as 'loveys' (because youngsters form a close connection with them) or 'transitional objects' (because they help children transition from being dependent babies to independent older children).
Australia's celebrated children's health expert, Professor Frank Oberklaid, explains that a child's love for their comfort object is a side effect of their wider developmental needs. In other words, transition objects provide the predictability that youngsters require as they separate from their parents (e.g. at bedtime) and gain independence.
Although two comfort objects might look alike, the child's preferred item has a special emotional pull. According to a psychological study by British professor, Bruce Hood, and American professor, Paul Bloom, children become attached to their particular toy or blankie because of an intuitive belief that it has a unique essence or life force.
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Many, but not all, children have comfort objects. The Guardian says, 'Studies have shown that up to 70 percent of young children develop strong attachments to objects such as toys or blankets.' However, it's interesting to note that, 'The phenomenon tends to be confined to the Western world, where children usually sleep apart from their parents at an early age.'
Professor Oberklaid says children grow out of the habit at different times and, 'The age they stop using [comfort] objects varies according to the child, the family situation, the child's temperament [and] experience.'
He adds, 'We see eight-year-olds still with a bunny they had when they were twelve-months-old, and other children for whom the choice of an object has changed over time. What I try to do is normalise all of that behaviour,' instead of setting ages where comfort toys are seen as 'abnormal'.
Although one study found that children with strong bonds to comfort objects have stronger attachments to a parent and are happier than those without a lovey, the same study found that teenagers who need their comfort objects daily may have poorer mental health.
Again, this comes down to the temperament of the child. Professor Oberklaid says that 'Parents need to make that decision based on their instinct. For some kids, the thought of separation from something at any time is so traumatic that by all means let them take it. For others, you can reason with them and tell them Teddy will be in their room when they get home.'
If the child does take their lovey to care, then it's fair enough to treat this item differently. Although sharing is an important social skill to practice, it's ok if the child doesn't want to hand their transitional toy to anyone else. It's completely understandable.
I am a garbage collector, racist garbage. For three decades I have collected items that defame and belittle Africans and their American descendants. I have a parlor game, "72 Pictured Party Stunts," from the 1930s. One of the game's cards instructs players to, "Go through the motions of a colored boy eating watermelon." The card shows a dark black boy, with bulging eyes and blood red lips, eating a watermelon as large as he is. The card offends me, but I collected it and 4,000 similar items that portray black people as Coons, Toms, Sambos, Mammies, Picaninnies, and other dehumanizing racial caricatures. I collect this garbage because I believe, and know to be true, that items of intolerance can be used to teach tolerance.
I bought my first racist object when I was 12 or 13. My memory of that event is not perfect. It was the early 1970s in Mobile, Alabama, the home of my youth. The item was small, probably a Mammy saltshaker. It must have been cheap because I never had much money. And, it must have been ugly because after I paid the dealer I threw the item to the ground, shattering it. It was not a political act; I, simply, hated it, if you can hate an object. I do not know if he scolded me, he almost certainly did. I was what folks in Mobile, black and white people, indelicately referred to as a "Red Nigger." In those days, in that place, he could have thrown that name at me, without incident. I do not remember what he called me, but I am certain he called me something other than David Pilgrim.
I have a 1916 magazine advertisement that shows a little black boy, softly caricatured, drinking from an ink bottle. The bottom caption reads, "Nigger Milk." I bought the print in 1988 from an antique store in LaPorte, Indiana. It was framed and offered for sale at $20. The salesclerk wrote, "Black Print," on the receipt. I told her to write, "Nigger Milk Print."
"If you are going to sell it, call it by its name," I told her. She refused. We argued. I bought the print and left. That was my last argument with a dealer or sales clerk; today, I purchase the items and leave with little conversation.
The Mammy saltshaker and the "Nigger Milk" print are not the most offensive items that I have seen. In 1874, McLoughlin Brothers of New York manufactured a puzzle game called "Chopped Up Niggers." Today, the game is a prized collectible. I have twice seen the game for sale; neither time did I have the $3,000 necessary to purchase it. There are postcards from the first half of the 20th century that show black people being whipped, or worse, hanging dead from trees, or lying on the ground burned beyond recognition. Postcards and photographs of lynched black people sell for around $400 each on eBay and other Internet auction houses. I can afford to buy one, but I am not ready, not yet.
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