The Beast and the Sovereign

I first read Leash by Jane DeLynn at the start of the pandemic. It was gifted to me by a dear friend and mentor, who told me it was gifted to her by her then-submissive at the beginning of their dynamic. The tagline is “Leash extends the logic of S+M to its inexorable and startling conclusion.” In it, the unsympathetic narrator cheats on her girlfriend and begins a relationship with a dominant she meets in through a classified ad. She never sees this dominant with her eyes; every scene begins with a blindfold first. The dominant wades through the narrator’s (rather exasperating) reticence to slowly mold her obedience. She introduces the narrator to her dog, gives her new skin, makes her urinate outside, and eventually gives her the choice to become a dog herself. The narrator is a pathetic figure, and seeks the edges of her limits with her Sir to find relief from personhood.

An excerpt from Leash by Jane Delynn

Years later I started playing with that same submissive, who told me that they did identify not with the dog of it all. The eager community of Leather pups, with all their energetic tail wagging, inspired admiration but not resonance in them. But they craved to be Not Human: not be interacted with as a person, but rather a feral creature.

I still have an ongoing fantasy of having them out with me on a leash, fully muzzled with fire in their eyes. I relish in the exquisite pleasure of telling other people not to pet them, they are not friendly, they are aggressive and loyal only to me. We have a special bond, the animal that lives in my house and I. We understand each other without speaking the same language. We share the hot, primal secret of domestic animal abuse.

It reminds me of a Jacques Derrida essay I read in grad school, the Beast and the Sovereign, a political meditation on two kinds of being that exist outside the jurisdiction of citizenship and statehood. Beast:subhuman:below the law::Sovereign:Ubermensch:above the law. But they find a kind of solidarity in each other in their shared exile from the force of jurisdiction, both the alienated loneliness and the powerful sense of personal agency. A regular odd couple: a czarina and her creature.

This is all to say, I’ve been finding so much meaning in humanimal husbandry recently. The possibilities are as endless as the variety of God’s creations—mammals are an easy choice (ponies, pups, and kittens) but I have always loved exotic pets (loyal crows, hissing cockroaches, a colony of ants). And lest we not forget about husbandry: the delight of domestication, of grinding someone through the sieve that pares human dignity from a beast. Watching it romp wild and reckless until forcefully bent to My will with a switch and a spray bottle. Then leashing it to a post and leaving it until it’s panting and whimpering for my attention, now utterly dependent on me and my commands. Turns out you can teach an old dog new tricks.

this could be you

When is the last time you got in touch with your primal tendencies? Who are you as a creature? Playful, loyal puppygirl? Pig set for slaughter? Perhaps a more mythical creature like a dragon fits you more aptly. Whoever you are, I am always seeking more pets. My books are open for October and November