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thejournaloffox · 5 months ago

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8 February 2025

A New Night In A New Year, A New Fox

With new habits.

A lot of chaos reigned in Fox’s history, and a lot of trauma exhausted and crushed her until she was forced to stop and reconcile with herself. Her journey so far on this new path has not been without elements of chaos and turmoil—but this time, it happened with a purpose, and some of the results were in.

Fox marks this day of infinity, momentarily entering the slipstream of time, and begins a life of fulfillment and completeness. Understanding her needs has calmed her and raised her awareness, and she is excited once more. Excited to find out what she is capable of when she doesn’t have to limit herself, instead working with herself. Excited to apply all her revelations, hoping they will pay off and yield long term dividends in her health, happiness, and abundance.

Fox also hopes that her new habits will reinforce the pack in other ways. Her activity was important so that she could contribute, but so was the Lion’s well-being, and she finally had some ideas about how she could share meaningful insights, tools, and routines that might have a beneficial effect on the Lion. What he needed most was the safe and undisturbed peace where he could totally unwind, but he also needed meaningful progress in structuring their lives.

Fox is on a mission to accomplish specific steps, and Fox has been magnificently productive of late, so everything seemed possible to her. Perhaps most importantly—Fox felt all these changes were yielding an inner confidence and direction which were necessary for her to stop relying on some of her most unrelenting defenses and start feeling again.

Fox felt her Foxflesh was less afraid and more curious to be consumed by desire again. Her Foxheart relinquished her anguish in her Foxtears instead of settling into her body as a deeply entrenched ache. Her whole being felt motivated by her activities—although she still pushed herself at times, testing her limits as one who has been caged too long and cannot cope yet with the stresses of weakness in face of freedom; one must stay in motion for fear of stopping and never starting again.

Fox was healing. Fox was riddled with pangs of longing and aching desire for her Captor, still so far away on his mission, but she suffused herself with thoughts and memories of him, kept his things around her protectively, nested in his essence as best she could. She desperately wanted to be in his arms again, vulnerable to his pent up desire for her, safe in his radiating presence that so warmed her soul. She missed the peace of her thoughts stopping as she focused entirely on the feel of him, the scent of him intoxicating her, the taste of Lion on her tongue.

Meanwhile, Fox ran her Fox experiments—sensual thought-Foxtime, actual Foxtime, Foxcontent, Lioncontent, Fox performances, fantasy contemplation, alleviating tensions surrounding thoughts of sexuality and sexual content, rediscovering what Foxdesire actually was, sharing fantasies and thought-snarls with the Lion along the way. The details of her feralness had become a main focus, and Fox was on a separate journey involving unmasking her full sexual identity.

The Fox already began noting the things that excites her, and she was building a collection of premium Lioncontent that was designed to melt her Foxbrain—proven and tested to be a most exciting and Foxleak-inducing, further experiments pending sufficient levels of starvation. Fox was more feral than ever before.

Their reunion would be legendary in its passion—worthy of poetry, no doubt, and Fox was already loading her quill with Lionfantasies and feralness aplenty.

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thejournaloffox · 7 months ago

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The Eve of Foxtears

As dramatic as the Fox’s prolonged feralness was, it was nothing to the ache in her entire Foxness for being so far apart from her beloved. This past night, the Fox was to perform and unleash her pent up desires until she could no longer bear it, but as the Fox had already gone off the deep end in anguish after her earlier Foxtorment, to her dismay, the Foxflesh refused to go beyond a certain point—even though the Fox was mad with craving for release, even though the Lion’s murmurs of desire were driving her caged feralness wild and she desperately yearned to be rescued by it and surge with Foxness again. The frustration and disappointment with herself immediately overwhelmed her instead, and she couldn’t break through this barrier before the Lion had to withdraw for the night to attempt sleep.

(Sleep, she noted, that would evidently not be forthcoming for the Lion, and the Fox tried really hard not to feel responsible for it, but at the same time, the excitement of their later exchange was irresistible to a feral Fox, and the Foxcravings continue and the Fox is blushingly unabashed and is excited by the Lion’s cravings.)

The Fox would have howled with despair if it wouldn’t have drowned out the Lion’s soothing words, and in the end, the Fox was thoroughly soothed, and she was left with instructions to finish her performance for the Lion and to report on it. Fox still felt helpless before the tangled mess that seemed to be her mind-body network, but the Fox felt her shame and guilt transform into determination as the Lion had stayed with her in her distress and patiently reassured the Fox point by point that he understood the Fox’s plight, and that she was loved all the same because all of Fox belonged to the Lion, these damaged parts of her included, and even if they prevented the pleasant note they had hoped to end the call on.

As much as the Fox would have preferred to perform for the Lion in a reasonable timeframe, and without needing exploratory emotional reconstruction, by the time they hung up, Fox felt deeply cherished by the Lion in ways that melted her. Instead of dwelling on letting him or herself down, their conversation left her feeling as though she were the most fortunate pet in the universe because the Lion’s desire was still consumed with her even in her saltiest of ruined states, which was admittedly quite salty that evening amidst all the Foxtears.

The Fox was more resolute than ever that she would learn how to reach her limits without her barriers automatically springing up—the Fox would be the bestest Fox in this way as well, she would convince those parts of herself that it was safe to come out and relax a little more, always just a little more. One day the Fox would be able to idle at her precipice with no danger in her except overwhelming feralness, and it would provoke all the desired Foxemotions without side effects that so frustrated her now. On the other hand, Fox gained new insight on what happened in her in these past days combined, finally seeing some of her most innate self-defense mechanisms from the outside with a clarity she hadn’t had before. Perhaps more progress had been made with this event than what she had previously thought.

After the call, the Fox was in turmoil but very conscious that she was safe with the Lion even in his absence, and that was a steadying force that helped her slowly cut through the knotted emotions. The continued Foxtears were diligently deposited upon the Lionpillow until they ebbed, and the Fox then placed the somewhat damp pillow between her thighs. The Fox readied herself, summoning the memory of the Lion’s voice laced with desire for Foxflesh. She kept a hand on her fluttering heart and thought to herself “I’m okay” and “Everything is good”, and the Fox finally, at long last, found her way back to sensation. The feralness was right there at the door, ready and waiting to burst through as soon as the finest sliver of light shone through the cracks, and before the Fox knew it, she was at her precipice. Thinking of how proud the Lion would be at her intensity and diligence, the Fox finally surrendered her Foxplosion to the Lion, sending her pleasure to him and wishing he was there to absorb it, but hoping he would feel it somehow all the same.

As if someone had flipped a switch, just like that, the Fox knew in an instant that she would finally sleep in earnest for the first time in days, and without even standing a chance to move or do anything else, the Fox was soon fast asleep. Her body reacted like an addict whose withdrawal finally ended by satisfying the craving—and the physiological stress she had felt which had been keeping her restless at night in the past little while was suddenly put into context and she saw it in a new light; she missed the Lion, simply put. Of course she was driven to the brink of madness. The intimacy between Fox and the Lion was an exquisite and erotic substance she thirsted for like nothing else she had ever tasted, and at the same time, it was all the best tastes she had ever had all in one, and more—and the Fox was beside herself wanting for so much more of it.

Hours later she awoke to realize what had happened, and she knew the only reason she didn’t sleep until morning was the tug of intense warmth she felt from the Lion, something she wanted to consciously bask in before slipping back into slumber, and a few minutes to an eternity later, her body also decided that there were a few complaints to hand in, once the Fox was awake and all, so she might as well get up and tend to herself. Especially post-Foxtears Foxes—they needed to hydrate as soon as possible, lest they develop migraines. As if the Lion had sensed the Fox had decided to get up, in that moment the Lion Signaled, and the Fox immediately ran into his virtual arms… and proceeded to generate a scandalous amount of Foxleaks.

Fox’s cravings are by no means under control. They are out of control, in fact, and the depth to which she misses the Lion makes her a bit crazier than usual and that is combining with her insatiable feralness in interesting ways. But perhaps Fox’s general emotional stability took home a win today anyway. Fox felt more unburdened than yesterday, and despite the distance, Fox felt even closer to the Lion, which was a great source of strength for a distressed Fox. Fox feels healthier, sleepier in a way that meant she might wake up with energy for a change, and she can hardly wait for the next time the Lion calls.

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thejournaloffox · 9 months ago

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Spinning in a direction

There will be metaphors.

Fox spent her morning contemplating how much she cherished the Lion, and how she ached from the discord of the morning, the foamy tides of time and circumstance crashing against her mind every time she tried to see her way out of their mutual frustration. Fox was worried. She worried about her choices and needs, second-guessing every moment of respite that didn’t involve pushing through. Every time she pushed, she felt as though the situation crumbled further instead of coming together—and yet, her mind could explore the dimensions of the ideal forever-future plans, the concepts and voiced thoughts all made sense.

And yet. She couldn’t tell if she was doing it all wrong, whether she had a right to her moments of weakness or inattention when she could not afford to indulge in her shortcomings, whether she should control herself more or less—almost nothing seemed to make sense in her lately. The Lion made sense, her passions made sense, a few other things; so much else was topsy-turvy. Ideally, even if she did take moments, it wouldn’t be to the detriment of the process or anything else. But she kept feeling like the choice she was facing was nursing unhealing wounds while everything burned or locking her feelings up tight while weathering the storm of progress. Neither option was appealing for different reasons, but striking a balance as she had so far yielded decidedly unsatisfying results. Things were progressing, things got done—deadlines were flying by like crazy.

Fox was not leaning into her best qualities at the moment. She found herself being argumentative in the same panicked tone that so reminded her of her mother. She saw herself being as helpless and listless in the face of the overwhelming challenges as her father. Critical without being expressive like her sister. Relying on memory, her weakest function, like her grandmother. And so on. Her toolkit seemed odd and deficient compared to the overall task at hand, and she didn’t fully understand how to make use of all the tools the Lion was lending to the situation, as finely-crafted as they are—the issue is with the artisan, Fox, not the expert tools of her beloved.

This morning, the Lion had observed the Fox has an unfortunate tendency toward fatalism, and that matched the intensity of her feelings. Those feelings shouldn’t intertwine with solutions, but the issue with the fatalist mentality is that it’s two extremes eclipse all the more moderate options along it’s axis. Fox saw the pattern, she could trace it back to a lot of components in her past which eventually lead to fatalism as a survival mechanic. “Push through or drop out, no two ways about it.” No wasted movement. But her system was systematically disregulated, her tools proving unreliable compared to her estimates—and her estimates themselves seem suspiciously off. Thing is, life is always more complex than any situation, which is almost always, where fatalism is unflatteringly applied, and that means that none of these sources and patterns matter as much as their ultimate cause: fear.

Fox was afraid the strife of the situation and the stress it caused would wear down the pack. She was afraid if she didn’t take over to the point of allowing for the Lion to get on with all the projects they had suspended at home it would turn into him feeling trapped and dragged down by her. She was afraid that her instability was turning her towards insecurity, and that he would sense it and feel caged—because Fox felt as though she never needed anyone like she did the Lion right now in these moments of her life.

Fox was growing an incredible amount, too. She was achieving things, she was motivated, and she was finding her footing in the whole process. But her grief was a snake coiling around her soul, it’s poison hollowing her out—and the only thing she could think to do was to accept all critiques with humility, swallow her pride, own the process. She didn’t know how to share such a responsibility, clumsily delegating and ignoring basic leadership rules. She realized she had been approaching the whole situation wrong straight out of the gate: she had responsibilities, and she needed help, but she had to be in charge. That meant delegating and sharing tasks, yes. But it also meant making sure that things are done in a timely manner, following up, sucking it up and making phone calls, getting involved in the Lion’s sleeping schedule enough to wake him on time. It meant a lot of pancaking, but Fox liked that, too.

More importantly, the Lion was not to blame for anything as Fox saw it, although she suspected she utterly failed to convey that in the way she expressed frustration instead of requesting specific solutions and providing him the necessary information for him to help her. She should have been utilizing his strengths instead of somehow arriving at the expectation of magicking the situation into working. She found herself more often than not regretting their arguments, feeling dissatisfied with her performance, and disregulated in ways she was not handling very deftly.

This morning, after she stormed off in a huff, Fox found herself contemplating what was and what is, invited to think on the subject after stumbling on an online conversation. The context was less important than the feelings and thoughts she wound up exploring: the Lion was a wild, joyous, independent being of magnificence—and Fox was and is delighted and happy every day of her life that he chooses her, and she him. It was a freedom that only existed in a populated universe, not in an echo chamber in the middle of an isolated woods. She could not follow the path of her mother, shutting off from so much for safety; Fox’s safety came from trust, demonstrable behavior, choice.

Choice also terrified Fox because she felt like right now, and lately, or maybe even in general, Fox is a charlatan, and not a great choice after all. She felt as though she would be revealed as inadequate, incompetent, and weak, because at the first sign of struggle, she felt her defenses might as well be wet tissue paper in lieu of kevlar. Fox was afraid she was losing a grip on herself because of her grief, and that her inability to work through everything she felt at the moment deep down would sabotage the things she cherished the most: her love, her life, her future.

Fox felt as though recently the Lion had been subtly probing her feelings, gauging how open she was in various ways. Did she want him all to herself to the point of clipping his proverbial wings in any way? Did she see and appreciate how devoted he was, and how she was slowing them down and how that affected him? There was no blame she could detect, only stress and tiredness—and clear indications that she was steering their ship toward a sandbank. She was invited to observe the ripples that indicate deep currents, ones that might see us safely out to open sea or strand us on an island in the middle of nowhere.

Fox was afraid of nowhere—and she found herself there more often than she would have chosen for herself had she known how. Now, she increasingly felt as though she had the stamina, temperament, and insight necessary to push her out of the darkness and into progress. But is it too little too late?

All Fox can say for sure is that she is fighting for the pack tooth and nail. She feels like a cub tossed into a hunt as the unexpected pack leader for the duration of a moonless night—and Fox prayed she could be the light to shine their way as they navigated through her ancestral obligations and gifts alike.

Fox is secure. Fox can do this. And Fox will have time to cry and be one with change and choice.

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thejournaloffox · 9 months ago

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Of Sorrow, Joy, & Love

Where the fox has a really, really hard time but it’s easier with the Lion…

The paradox of grieving is how thin the dividing line between emotion and calculated persistence is. Fox is, on the one paw, desperately sad. On the other, her need for the Lion is more ferocious than ever, and his presence is exciting and simultaneously soothing in ways that Fox craves in ways that are difficult to put into words.

Fox tried anyway, and it usually resulted in sultry Foxkiss avalanches. Fox was discovering new feelings and desires in herself that surprised her at times, leading her to conclude, yet again for the millionth time, that the Lion and Fox are crazy well-suited to each other. Fox cannot recall craving another so physically in addition to emotionally; the Lion saw the feral Fox for what she was, and she was free to be as disgustingly dirty as far as her imagination—and the Lion’s—could take her.

The Lion knew what was happening within Fox and around her, and she knew that carried with it some difficulties—her emotions were raw, pulsing within her like an aggressive disease that was hollowing her out whenever she brushed against it in her mind—but it amazed her how far a Lion kiss could go in stabilizing her mood or grounding her out of a spiral.

That didn’t mean it was all easy, especially in the moments when Fox struggles against her body, just in new ways. Since a little while now Fox’s feralness has been achieving new heights, thanks to her meticulous training and delicious Lion attentions. Being desired by the Lion was an indescribably beautiful feeling, and his respectfulness as Fox navigated her most recent tumultuous experience of change only made her adore him more. Her body was, however, now sailing on the oceans of loss, and this made her more tempestuous as usual.

Fox wondered sometimes if she expressed enough, she found herself so often lost for words when it came to explaining her inner world state, but the Lion seemed to pick up on enough to know when Fox needed comfort, space, or closeness. She gloried in him in the meantime, able to slip back into her happy place every time she pictured his smiling eyes or imagined feeling his tender caresses on her cheeks—however changeable her mood is, the Lion remains a constant.

Fox was navigating how to balance things, feeling herself rapidly evolving as the moments demanded more of her. She was becoming accustomed to how things felt, that she couldn’t fix or change some things… or know everything. She felt the difference between how close to disaster she was the last time she had spent significant time at home, and though she was far sadder now than she had been then, she wasn’t in danger of falling apart. So many things in her life were going so well, after all. She wasn’t alone—although some things she was beginning to realize depended on her choices in a way that required her independent spirit to participate in the conversation.

The pack was deeply frustrated—and Fox wished she could make it easier faster. Her goalposts kept moving toward practicality, her intentions were solidifying. And she was afraid that after all she does now, it’s somehow not enough. It wasn’t a specific thing about the situation, just an inner criticism concerning how lighting a fire under her was often the only way to launch her into the sky. But she did soar once she was off the ground… or she had.

Fox couldn’t wait to go home. To be done. To focus on the future instead of her past.

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thejournaloffox · 1 year ago

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The Fox feels him lying there next to her, falling asleep… and her pulse quickens until her entire body is trembling—she wonders whether her occluded passion could be felt through the mattress. Last night was the first night she became aware of the phenomenon she’d been observing for a long time now: it was her. Her arousal, specifically.

What happens is that Fox’s imagination immediately leaps on an erotic fantasy of her Captor watching her and becoming aroused by his silent study, letting himself savor the nectar of desiring her and heightening his pleasure until he wanted to devour his pet. She imagined him resisting the urge for a time, listening to her soft breathing as she slipped ever closer to slumber, her Foxform fully relaxing in the warmth. And then…

The Fox realizes that instead of falling asleep, the Fox is fully starved again, the Lion is asleep, and she is still listening to the beat of her own heart rush through her like a pulsar. She rather liked the mental images, and yet, her brain went through a series of short circuits to put herself under—there were the usual swipes from her inner critics, with whom she’d had a chat in her dreams, and then the injured parts of her inserted themselves, trying to take the spotlight and stoke the agony bonfire, and, finally, what she called her self-awareness took a look at all this and decided it’s time to uncross some wires.

First: it was always the time for desire, even if she had to cool off a bit after. That part of her reacted to the Lion’s aura as expected—he had a magnetic presence that Fox found utterly irresistible. It was the only force known to her that affected her like a hot drug, exciting the right senses, soothing the ones shrieking from overstimulation. It was only natural that being next to him, but unable to touch him—for fear of disturbing his precious sleep—all she could do was entertain longing thoughts in his direction, reflect on how incredibly much she adored him, and absorb his closeness, feed her thirst. He would make sure to harvest it all; she loved how he craved and consumed so much of her, there was so much to give.

When the Lion said he wanted all of Fox, she knew those weren’t just words—every day he made good on that statement, and Fox felt herself blossom a little more each day, unlocking long forgotten strengths within her as she showed him around in herself, inviting him into parts of herself she had never been able to show anyone before. It was a remarkable experience—of course Fox melted like a wild animal in heat when he went anywhere near her, let alone relaxed and comfortable… and disrobed. It was so very tempting to bury herself into his chest or shoulders, to nuzzle his neck with Fox kisses and loving nibbles, to let her Foxfingers trail across the entire surface of his evocative figure and tangle into his gorgeous hair and glorious beard—or trace his glorious jaw and perfect chin in beardless seasons—and, intoxicated by her Captor, provoke the Lion’s roaring passion in earnest.

Fox is getting distracted.

Second: …Fox is still distracted. The Lion effortlessly consumed Fox even as he lay asleep! When he was awake, Fox stood no chance of resisting—such was the fate of the Fox. Fox was more than fine with this; she was deeply enamored with her captivity. But, back to the point: Fox was discovering the precise dividing lines between her experiences, her programming, her intentions, and her present.

Learning about the peculiar way she processed information and her unique motivational and communication needs didn’t just reveal to her a pattern of dysfunction in the way she had interacted with others in professional and personal settings, but—more importantly—those dysfunctional voices had been programmed into some of her inner critics. Then, the final most important puzzle piece: the depth of her fear of abandonment stretching back to childhood has been recently revealed to her, and putting all that together, Fox finally understood why parts of her had made her feel bad in some way whenever she was aroused.

Third: awareness was enough. Fox fell asleep, had a dream where she got somewhere with her inner congress—an analogy chosen both for its design for function and demonstrated dysfunction except when under extreme duress faced with overwhelming rationality—and woke up starved for the Lion to overwhelm her with his incredibly arousing arousal. Fox wanted to be completely consumed by him, splayed in her full, vulnerable glory, she wanted to feel the power of his desire saturate her skin and fill her up with his fire burning her from the inside out.

Fourth: Fox’s desire was so potent that even after over 48 hours awake and being highly active, all the Lion had to do was appear, lie down next to her, and exist to stoke her raging passion. The memory of everything he had ever done to her up until now increased that potency every time—Fox couldn’t wait to see what they would discover in her as her captivity and training progressed. Fox was… insatiable. And the Lion both sated her like no other, and he stoked her most potent potential that could raze worlds with its heat. Unleashing all that had been pent up in Fox until now was a firestorm the world was scarcely ready for, but it was happening.

Fox eventually got a full nights sleep… and Fox is famished for Lion.

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thejournaloffox · 1 year ago

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Why was it so hard for Fox to handle awareness or the revelation of attraction that represented no threat to her relationship?

Perhaps because it had destroyed her previous one. It was so easy to feel eclipsed by the presence, or even the sight, of another woman who was fully and tastefully clothed, let alone one in a sexually explicit context. Let alone one who was vibrant, intelligent, and full of humor and wit. Sometimes Fox was that woman, and sometimes other women put her in that exact position of feeling a relative lack and an envy of the attention she commands—whoever “she” is. Fox felt it, the other women felt it, and all of us collectively resent the woman who is the most comfortable with being Seen and Desired because it’s what we can’t have. It’s what we can’t take without being the next in line for ritual humiliation. So why do we even crave it? Perhaps because many of us realized this was our only hold on our partners.

It’s an artificially created space. We are not really comparable to one another, and Fox resented the implication that attractive young women deserved some special treatment when they were in a crowd, as opposed to all the beautiful and unique people who felt ugly, old, or any other sense of self that made them resentful of people like Fox, oft put in one position and feeling on the other side. It waned with familiarity, and all that was left after that was obscurity. She had felt more punishment than reward from this position, and indeed, she did not have friendly feelings towards the women she placed there in her mind. Which was why she understood that being envied and being attractive was a dangerous and an ugly place vis-à-vis another woman.

In Fox’s previous long term relationship, she had gotten used to being forgotten in the presence of other women he found attractive, and they never seemed to run out. They were everywhere, and Fox had learned to identify them purely by how much his attention lingered and how. It made attention given to other women feel intolerable to her where before that relationship she remembered having no such feelings. She had only ever felt jealous when she had been given reason, and unfortunately, eventually she had been given reasons in each relationship—but in this one, it became a perpetual function that she no longer remembered how to switch off.

Fox loved women. But she feared them, too. It wasn’t their fault. She also knew to her core that she could trust the Lion, and that should have made this so much easier. But something inside her was still broken in this regard, and she had no idea how to heal it. She didn’t want to be apprehensive, suspicious (especially justifiably), and exhausted around women. She felt constant pressure to keep up appearances before them in ways she didn’t feel with men, but she also refused to respond to it, making her a dangerous element to a lot of them. But she couldn’t force herself to be anything she was not, even if it earned their scorn and derision.

Even after hypothetically getting comfortable with women, Fox wasn’t sure where to go from there. She didn’t know how to feel just yet about the possibility of sexually involving another woman even when Fox had a chance to experience it without repercussions. Part of her wanted the experience, another part remembered how wounding this question had been in the past. It was a different time with a person who had had selfish interests, and that was revealed by the fact that he had only been interested in sharing Fox with another woman, never another man; in other words, he wanted permission to involve other women for himself. He had also immediately felt jealous when Fox had suggested she would take him up on his offer but without his involvement, all by herself—and she still viscerally remembered that painful split in her heart when she realized she would never be enough for him. In fact, he acted all the time as though he resented her—but at the same time, he wouldn’t let her go. She had to be the bad guy and end things before he felt like he had permission, in fact, he was entitled, to betray her.

Her dream had been about that. He had shown up and told her he got bored with his present situation and she was really still his; the mere suggestion filled her with such awful feelings of despair and other ugly feelings that she still shrank away from the memory. Only with distance had she seen her situation for what it had been—and she was terrified of that place, of that person he had become, and of those feelings and notions manifesting to haunt and torment her. The dream then switched to the Lion, which was an incredible comfort, and she somehow defiantly communicated without words to her ex that he could go fuck himself and eat his claims. She belonged to the Lion. All was well. Then, the Lion was leading her past an establishment that offered sexual encounters with women, and he suggested to Fox that they could go in if she wanted to. She didn’t feel resentful, afraid, or any other negative way, which was a relief, although not a surprise—she instinctively felt the vast difference in quality and motivation behind his words. But she also felt she wasn’t ready, and she steered him away. And he was fine with it.

Fox felt like they would revisit this subject again. But for the moment, she needed more time and space to heal her relationship with other women, to rebuild her sense of self where others were concerned in a way that she didn’t feel so defenseless and raw around them. She felt similarly apprehensive of other men, she still found it difficult to appreciate them in the way the Lion could appreciate attractive women he encountered. She didn’t think he spent his time hunting for girls to ogle, at the same time, she knew he had a healthier attitude towards allowing himself to look—she didn’t feel at home in this at all, although she wanted to be able to recognize the beauty of others again, and she wanted them to be on equal footing. She wasn’t sure why everything that had happened to her made her stop appreciating people, although she suspected it had something to do with the unequal treatment all her previous partners had demonstrated in this regard: they were free to hang posters of naked women on their walls and would argue with her if she dared bring it up, but if she even spoke to another man, they had felt threatened—she always had to hide even feelings of friendship from men. But she was perversely encouraged to get much friendlier with her girlfriends than she was comfortable with. The double standard burned her insides. And they punished her for their insecurity in so many ways, and so many times over.

Attraction was exhausting—being attractive, being attracted, all of it had a tainted quality in her mind. How could she cleanse herself of these feelings?

These were the things Fox speculated about. She didn’t have answers, but she kept asking and probing, turning it around inside her, experimenting with thoughts and content to spark an inner renaissance.

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thejournaloffox · 1 year ago

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Things you don’t see in porn (which offends Fox’s sense of equality and her passion):

The man’s face/expression. We like to zoom in on the woman, especially if she’s being violated, and the man’s face is either blurred out (as if he had more right to privacy than the woman does—typical) or is cut out of the frame. He’s just an anonymous dick around a very clearly identifiable and memorable woman we study from head to toe at extreme closeup. Gross.

The woman’s fantasies. It’s almost impossible to find a video relating to a woman indulging herself by violating a man in any way you’d typically see in the reverse; that’s reserved for lesbian relationships or BDSM for sub men—not even female domination is about the women. There’s a palpable difference between the genders, the tone of vanilla CNC is always that the man’s insatiable and perverse desires are the paramount. If Fox is the sub in the equation, even just as a passive viewer, it stands to reason she’s totally uninterested in other petite sub women. That’s not what attracts her. But that’s where the focus tends to be.

The man’s arousal. We see what he’s aroused by a great deal, to disgusting detail. But we rarely, if ever, get to see the result, the effects on him for the duration. That image is “private”, reserved for the unfortunate women targeted by dick pics, or for solo shows. Everyone gets their fill of her, whoever she is, until the typical female form became commonplace and uninteresting to Fox. The only way you see a guy working on himself is when he’s flashing strangers or completely alone, neither of which is particularly interesting. We rarely, if ever, see a man being observed for the pleasure of the female viewer—even when a man is caught pleasuring himself, there’s almost no indication of what he’s actually doing. Ironically. You’re only meant to see what he sees and what he finds interesting.

Any posturing or sexiness from the guy in straight porn. It’s always up to the woman to seduce the man, as if men can’t be sexy, only sexual. It’s a fucking shame because their actions speak of wanting attention… they just don’t do jack shit about it except to force themselves on the women. Here, here for celebrating male-on-female abuse as healthy sexual fantasies while women only get to ogle straight-acceptable women and dicks, I guess? Women owning their sexuality just somehow never factors into it, even if she’s the instigator, it’s somehow going to collapse into the man’s satisfaction, of her only desiring sex for his satisfaction. Do we ever get to see a satisfied grin on a woman after something that would actually seem stimulating to a woman? Fox can count on one hand the number she found amidst millions of depictions of shades of faux suffering.

It’s all so male fantasy-oriented. We just don’t want to see the same things. We want more or less detail in different places. A lot of it is indescribably boring or gross closeups. And women’s porn sites are just link sites that take you to the guy sites—it’s all a sham.

But it seems so easy to cater to a man in here. It’s a small wonder men feel entitled to women’s bodies when their eyes are trained to only appreciate the vulnerability of women, depriving their partners and themselves the true sexual beauty of masculinity in its most open and vulnerable form—unless a man is incredibly submissive. It’s only aimed to stimulate the memories of a man already successful in bedding someone, regardless of their partner’s pleasure in so many positions where Fox knows just how uncomfortable that same thing is from the woman’s perspective. There’s the awkward positioning of the bladder, for instance, not at all pleasurable to stimulate, and so much of the touching is so rough and quick, there’s just no reasonable time for that woman to become aroused. Fox doesn’t see herself in these women at all.

It’s sometimes hard to think about how invisible Fox feels in this world, and the fear of how she might become invisible in her life if reality doesn’t live up to some fantasy. She was capable of so much in this department, and her ease and practice with some things were increasing, there was no denying she could command a great sexual force in her own right. She didn’t like to take cues from porno women about how she’s supposed to behave or sound or feel, but at the same time, seeing enough content couldn’t help but highlight what a chasm there was between what men apparently fantasized about and how women actually worked, let alone what they desired. How could she formulate what she desired, then, when almost none of the content she found catered to her demographic? She was back where she started: it was left up to her imagination.

Not that porn couldn’t affect Fox; she had experimented in the hopes of both reuniting her body, mind, and emotions, kindling her deep desires, and of settling her heart whenever it twisted over a thought or memory related to adult content experienced in the wild.

Her unconscious had always had a visceral reaction to porn, and for the most part, she wasn’t happy with how it had shaped her thoughts over her life. Part of it was doubtless due to her numerous experiences of men helping themselves to her body or perversely contemplating her regardless of either her lack of attraction to them or her lack of desire for sex in that moment.

Another part was how her exploration of her sexuality was shamed and ridiculed, or just outright forbidden. When she explored anyway, she came to understand that sex was meant to be uncomfortable and violent for a woman. There was no other avenue to pleasure, unless she gave it to herself. Fox was gentle and sensual with herself, until the point where she could tap into a deep passion that desired a much rougher touch, that wanted to be pinned to a wall and devoured, and it still wouldn’t be enough. Both desires existed within her, and their combined effort was the most potent pleasure. But they also often disagreed with each other, and they demanded equal attention.

Fox gave a lot of thought to what bothered her precisely about porn, and how it could be such a good thing for most men she’d ever known, yet provoke such hostile feelings from her. She didn’t always feel tainted by it when she alone was in control of the experience—it was when it was out of her control that she felt despair. She couldn’t understand why for the longest time, and she still didn’t quite feel like she had full clarity on her mixed feelings about the subject, but she was beginning to suspect that she might not have a problem at all with the concept—it was the specific content that she found, that others consumed. Perhaps because it felt too alienating from the other intimate partner, a private fantasy factory that was fueled by the fantasies of a handful of male executives in the porno industry. There was a lot of potential in it for women’s empowerment, and yet, that is precisely what is consistently elusive for women. It’s not even empowering for men, as it so often portrays them as predators helpless to their basest shadow impulses. It’s empowering for the man behind the camera—forcing puppets to bring his fantasies to life, carefully tailoring the experience for his viewing pleasure.

Find me male strippers not aimed at gay men who pop up on ad screens, or hot single guys waiting for you to connect to their webcam—it’s not there.

Fox also realized the male gaze was what was ruining women for her. All she could see in women is what attracted men—not what attracted her. And a lot of it repulsed her, making her feel alienated from what a man’s desire is. This was an abstract problem that was healing under the Lion’s touch, his voracious appetite for Foxflesh and Foxperformances evident in the ways he approached consuming his pet. He was inspired by her, moved to do things with her, and that was a feeling Fox deeply needed. At the same time, there was a lot of damage to undo in the way of her internalized misogyny—she wanted to have a positive experience with women in general, not feel miserable by their presence or existence. She was one of them. She wanted to feel closer to them, without the contribution of the patriarchy. If only most women she met didn’t have such a viscerally negative reaction to her…

There was still a lot to unpack on the subject. But for now, Fox ponders how she could improve upon this experiment and find her point of comfort. Sexuality was a good thing—she just wished there was even a sliver of guidance about how to make it good for her specifically, beyond accidentally stumbling upon her well-hidden kinks.

Fox was a kinky Fox. She happily belongs to the Lion. The Lion was finding her, even those parts long forgotten or thought forever severed. He encouraged her to find herself. He went out of his way to make this a comfortable process for Fox. It was still painful and difficult to navigate, but she was making progress. She hopes one day soon she can say with confidence that nothing can bother her because she knows what she stands for and can make it happen around her.

There was a way to go yet; Fox wanted to be able to hear a sex joke or memory without teetering on the edge of being plunged into inner darkness. She wanted to be able to enjoy people instead of constantly assessing them for threats, feeling overwhelmed by their presence, fearing being steamrolled and crushed as the least interesting part of an evening. She also wanted to attract the kind of people to her she could actually enjoy—and those who might, perhaps, also enjoy her company without judgement or the desire to violate her boundaries. She was tired of fending off unwanted advances; wouldn’t it be nice if people respected personal space?

Fox had met a lot of great people recently, but also a handful that made her deeply uncomfortable. A lot of the time it had to do with them being totally onboard with the Lion and clearly wanting her out of the picture, sometimes not even because they desired to take her place but just because they didn’t like her. They sometimes tried to monopolize his attention. She wished those people made as little impression on her as she made on them, or better yet, they admired her as the Lion’s other half. Again, here lies the fear of invisibility, of being eclipsed—paired with the fear of being seen, let alone being liked and desired. People confounded and overwhelmed her so easily sometimes, whether they were total strangers or friends.

Fox’s healing is not complete, but it is plodding along. Plod. Plod. It’s safe to be liked. Plod. Strangers can’t invade you. Plod. You can find your passion’s most powerful currents even at this later stage than what was imagined in Fox’s naive and horny youth, forever deprived of satisfaction. Plod. Most people aren’t gripped by the impulse to hurt you emotionally or physically. Plod. It’s okay to find interesting people interesting. Plod. Not every spark of intimacy is a prelude to betrayal. Plod. There are many forms of intimacy, not all of them have to only involve one other person to confide in. Plod. Being betrayed, even if it happened over and over, doesn’t mean there’s something about you that deserves to be betrayed. Plod. Having your feelings disrespected doesn’t invalidate them. Plod. You are not your trauma.

Plod.

That’s a complex one. This was never an easy subject—but it’s been many times harder to navigate after certain kinds of abuse happen. Fox’s body didn’t always respond when she craved passionate intimacy with the Lion, and sometimes her body craved it but her mind was a supernova of mixed feelings and intrusive thoughts that put her off. And yet, it had also never been easier to experience deep pleasure, and Fox had never come so hard, long, or so many times in her life before her captivity. Nothing could stop the Lion from achieving Fox’s deepest and most slippery desires, and she adored it. She was just impatient to be fully in sync with her pleasure again in a way that the world could only enhance her experiences, not detract from them.

Fox learns as she goes, and pushes the boundaries of what pleasure means to her until she finds all of it.

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thejournaloffox · 1 year ago

Text

4 August 2022

Fox stretches with yoga and is well used

Fox is deliciously and viciously sampled in all sorts of ways, the Lion raked her and sank his claws into her ecstasy, he left his smarting marks on her, his fangs tasted succulent Fox flesh, and then Fox was transported beyond the limits of her ecstasy.

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thejournaloffox · 1 year ago

Text

3 August 2022

Party with friends, helping said friends

The Lion was so touching and emotional, he professed his love for Fox, and Fox is utterly blissful

Fox cleaned the whole house and made order

Everything is beatiful

Fox has a ton of ideas for their campaign, including secret maps

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thejournaloffox · 1 year ago

Text

1 August 2022

Pleasures denied…

Fox cries in her Captor’s arms, chooses her Captor’s pleasure over her own, is promised a squeezing before night and then sadly doesn’t get it, and she is quite weepy as a result.

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thejournaloffox · 1 year ago

Text

30 July 2022

Distressed musings…

Fox finishes the hat, plans out an extensive story for the campaign she’s telling the Lion, and his friend sits in to listen.

The pack watches The Good Place.

Fox had one uncomfortable low point in her otherwise perfect day with the Lion—as she was spacing out eating her Fox snack, already somewhat bummed out by not being able to participate in the fudge delights, she happened to have a glance of the Lion’s phone, and as he scrolled on social media, she thought she saw a bondage picture. Generally speaking, due to her unpleasant past with her partners interacting with the internet, Fox tried her very best not to see anything on anyone’s phone if she could help it, averting her eyes or walking away. This time she hadn’t been paying attention, and indeed, regretted it, because this wasn’t something she liked seeing—not yet, anyway.

The picture, from the little she had processed in a glimpse, had been tasteful, Fox even fancied what she might look like posed thus in her bonds. She did not feel it stepped over any lines, and Fox knew of the Lion’s interests—not to mention extensive knowledge and imagination—had to come from somewhere, and beyond his personal experience, Fox had gathered from his comments that he enjoyed looking at inspiring pictures. It was something she benefited from in many ways, and she knew she held the Lion’s attention as only Fox could, that did not worry her. In fact, the abstract admiration of physical beauty was not offensive to her, she came from a family of artists, and nudity itself had always felt like an expression of beauty in her mind if it was disassociated from sexuality. She had appreciated beauty in such a manner before without feeling it threatening.

Yet, this encounter still triggered painful memories in Fox where she had been criticized for her body by the same artist family, and otherwise left out of what Fox considered to be ‘the family’s secret beauty contest’. Did she want or need their validation? No, she absolutely didn’t. Would she like to be like the woman on the photo? Again, no—Fox derived no pleasure from the thought, not for this reason, not for all eyes. That fixed nothing. Was it perhaps that she perceived an impersonal sexualization of a nameless, faceless beauty and found that threatening? Perhaps that was closer to the mark—she loathed being competitive, it ate her up inside whenever she had been forced to do it for any reason all her life, and seeing beauty in others made her feel like she was being measured and compared, whether it was intentional or not. Somehow, she always felt like her personality didn’t fit into her body, and she could therefore never be that which she saw in others.

Why did it hurt to acknowledge the beauty of others? Perhaps because if she knew her partner continued to look for it in the world, he might one day draw an instinctive comparison and she would be the one coming up as inadequate. Certainly, having inadequacies in and of themselves were not enough to be dooming, Fox knew that. But they would be tiny cracks, which seemed light at first glance, but which, with the pressure of time, could grow into monstrous things. Sure, there was always the option to talk things out, to change and grow—and Fox heartily favored this option. However, in the past it had happened that she had somehow been landed with expectations to change in ways that changed who she was, and that had caused cracks in her, to a degree where at some point no amount of taking fixed things.

Fox recognized a specter of fear when she saw one. She had been there for every step of her previous relationships deteriorating under the grind of life with her, and it had been agonizing—and she felt, above all else, utterly helpless to stop it each time. Each time her partners had simply shut her out at one point or another, never revealing how they truly felt, or worse, protecting her feelings. They didn’t seem to understand that if they felt the impulse to shield her from something they were doing, saying or thinking, then she not only wanted to know, she needed to know. Fox had to acknowledge at this point that one of the first casualties of her sensibilities was her sense of beauty and how it factored into her life, because it had turned from phenomenon to a sign—and not a particularly good one, and it affected how she perceived beauty as well. She couldn’t stop others from filling themselves with it, so she instead punished herself for enjoying beauty.

As to what made her paranoid about beauty specifically, despite being utterly innocuous to the part of her which grew up appreciating aesthetics at the highest level, Fox suspected she might know the reason: her devastating logic. It had two parts. First, at a certain comfort level of her past relations, she would be encouraged to share her tastes, and she grudgingly obliged each time, to a degree. At the same time, she would be initiated into their world of taste—but they only shared the things they thought Fox could either be for them, or what they approximated to be acceptable for her morality. The rest, they kept to themselves and continued to engage with in secret. This drove Fox insane for many reasons, not the least of which was that she would have vastly preferred the heartache of knowing and being allowed to deal with it over being kept in the dark and having to deal with the fallout of them having festering secrets instead.

True, it also hurt her sensibilities that they voiced their displeasures about her and their disappointment in how she had failed to be what they wanted, but when she felt disappointed about something like this, it was generally ignored or even downplayed. The solution was never to try and understand why she felt the way she felt, or to at least try her approach, the way she always gave things chances even if it frustrated her to no end; rather, they acted to ‘protect’ her by not telling her they still entertained thoughts, or entertained other women, because they disagreed with Fox’s dislike. In short, her dislikes felt invalid, she felt gaslighted, while the weight of the world seemed to rest on her ability to do things unnatural to her in comparison. Of course, the Lion had already proven to Fox she was important enough to him that he would respect her feelings without hesitation—but Fox was afraid that in this case, this might not be something her Captor could fix by changing a setting or reveling in her beauty to the exclusion of all else. Although, Fox admittedly did enjoy the latter. This, however, was something she had to face.

Fox had no control over the internet, and she was safe. Truths. Beauty was out there—to not acknowledge it would be hypocritical. To fear not measuring up would never prevent things from truly working out or not working out, nor would it ever be based on something as trivial as appearance. Yes, it was important to her that her beauty was not allowed to be forgotten or trampled down when other beauty was present—she did need reinforcement, she admitted that. She was sensitive to not getting her slice, as it were; if someone was going to be complimented, admired or loved, she wanted to be included, and similarly complimented, admired and loved—or more. If she was told about someone’s beauty, she sincerely hoped someone had whispered in that person’s ear how beautiful Fox was—and that led to the second half of problem: herself.

Fox had literally been forgotten and omitted before, sometimes while awkwardly standing right there. She did not appreciate having the spotlight forced on her, but she did like to feel as though she existed, and was at least somewhat important to the people around her—enough to be introduced, perhaps even to be talked about in a positive light. Why? Because she had been made to feel so unremarkable in so many ways, so invisible, to the point where Fox knew for a fact that certain people in her partners’ lives had either felt free to totally ignore her existence, or they didn’t even realize she existed—and that was a red flag to her. She would have felt much better knowing her partners had gushed about her to the extent that she was a real, significant person in the mind of those people invited into the corners of her partner’s mind to which she was not privy.

Fox realized that, over time, she had come to believe there was some kind of ugliness in her which other people couldn’t help but find out about, as though she were a charlatan pretending to be the perfect girlfriend or wife. As though she had truly cheated those partners of happiness, because she couldn’t be like the women they truly wanted, the ones who embodied things Fox was not and could never hope to be. Of course, she knew it was different now—and it wasn’t as though positive comparisons couldn’t be made in Fox’s favor, maybe even consistently. Fox perhaps had felt ugly and invisible, unwillingly locked in a hopeless competition with every woman braver than her and with fewer cares and inhibitions, because those former partners of hers had simply not been right for her. But while she felt sure in her Captor, she was no longer entirely sure how confident she really was about herself after all this.

Fox had another thought: perhaps what twisted her heart about beauty, even in the framework of sensual art, was that she wished to be the one to whom her partner turned to seek out such beauty, once she had entered the picture. She had a need to be the source—but whether she could be convinced she was the source was a different matter. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe she could be the embodiment of beauty for her Captor, but rather that she had trouble believing she could truly embody it alone. She had much to offer, but she was under no illusions as to her true uniqueness—she had far too many friends eerily similar to herself to believe it, either in personality or appearance. Her story and the precise combination of elements were, of course, unique from a certain perspective, but she didn’t ever feel as though this set her apart in any way—she wanted to be set apart by the one person who mattered to her most, but if she was honest with herself, she seemed to value what others like her offered as superior, because though she was liberated enough to try many things and loved herself enough to feel beautiful doing it, that didn’t mean it gave her great pleasure, nor the belief that she couldn’t be outshone. Everyone had something new to offer.

Discovering she had such issues with herself was a turbulent realization for Fox—but not entirely unexpected. She knew there were still filaments of her confidence which threatened the overall equilibrium instead of reinforcing it, despite her early successes in coming out of her darkest depression. True, she was thankfully beyond self-loathing; yet, she still seemed a far cry from truly loving herself again. It would take time to rebuild the self-image that had been so damaged by her previous partners’ indiscretions and outright lies. There were only so many times she had been able look past her previous partner’s social media feeds being filed with suggestive women and still believe he wasn’t looking for eros in someone else; that bucket was full and overflowing. There were only so many times she could accept the explanation of random chance when every time she was invited to look there was something there—and the behavior after was what made it really sting: acting like it was a mistake. She didn’t want to return to a time of life where everything was so stressed, she wasn’t even approached with the chance for intimacy, and instead, she’s left with the aftersmells of semen washed down the tub or the toilet—her nose knew what she didn’t want to know.

These rambling thoughts were, for the moment, broken records that were artificially constructed based on her negative experiences. Defense mechanisms. She had experienced her past partners to be hypocritical and duplicitous, jealous of her attention and affection, let alone her list, while craving it from others and craving others as if she wasn’t enough to satisfy them, in fact, to show them just how disappointing she was to them—and she knew the Lion was different. But it would take time for her to adjust, to unlock herself again, to embrace beauty as a part of her experience. So much had happened. She had been hurt in so many ways, until she craved isolation and deep-seated possessiveness; and that had been her undoing in the end. If the beauty of others was to be a factor in her relationship, it should be genuinely for her as well—and not with the same ulterior motives her previous romances had shown. She didn’t want to be gaslit, lied to, kept away—she wanted to break through, and not because her involvement was the only way to make it happen when it would happen whether she wanted it to or not—that wasn’t a real choice. She was open to sexual experimentation, but first, she had to heal, to be shown how exciting she was on her own, and not just because of her willingness to expand her definitions of privacy and intimacy. She didn’t want to be a means to an end; she wanted the part of it involving helping her grow and explore parts of herself that she had been denied, not the part that got her out of the way by being thrown a bone… and it couldn’t be the most important thing, or a solution to a deeper problem of too little connection. She needed time to adjust, to feel in control again—but most importantly, she needed this wonderful new connection to remain purely private a little longer, just between the two of them.

Fox was enough. Fox was enough.

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