While the “Code d’Ode” is comprised of hardcore fetishists that espouse male sexual dominance over submissive, cock-worshipping females, it differs dramatically from the more commonly-practiced BDSM in that it is:
a) Turkish/Persian in nature; it is in no way inspired by the European/Catholic Inquisition, or by the Marquis de Sade’s premises of torture for sexual

 

 

 

 

 

gratification; b) it celebrates erotic pleasure for all the participants involved (the odalisque is frequently and willingly shared among an owner’s esteemed male friends); and, c) any torture or degradation of the female is forbidden.

Why did this turn my world upside down? Because by then, I’d not only found my real father, I’d had a ten-year relationship with him before he died from cancer in 1999. We’d even briefly been in love with each other. And even while he’d been a career sailor – a Navy SEAL, to boot; a licensed, legal, killing machine during the Vietnam war – he would never, under any circumstances conceivable, have harmed or violated a woman, let alone

an eleven-year-old girl. This of course meant that my fantasies, from their private core within me as a child to their outward manifestation in my adult sex life, were strictly of my own making; they were not shared. My real father did cherish me; he adored me, he’d lamented that he wasn’t able to protect me from the life I’d experienced when I was growing up – which included not

 

 

 

 

 

just a joyless home and two suicide attempts, but two rapes and confinement in a dehumanising mental institution, as well. I had finally been lucky enough to experience what it felt like to have a father who loved me almost more than he loved his own life. Still, like an addiction, or at the very least a bad habit, my BDSM proclivities endured. They had nothing to do with my real father anymore, but they endured. And they didn’t bring me any sense of pleasure or joy anymore, either. They were simply familiar. My BDSM sex life was how I had learned to identify that I was being intimate with someone.

When I was exposed to the tenets of the Code d’Odalisque (originally

founded in Australia in the 1990s and resurrected and expounded upon in England in this century), the thought immediately occurred to me that, had I been exposed to this idea at a much younger age, I would likely have chosen a sex life of bondage and submission that revolved around giving and receiving pleasure, and not around degradation, pain, and torture. At age fifty, this was almost more than my mind could handle. For decades, I had chosen to give pleasure to others while allowing myself to be hurt and violated. It suddenly made no sense to me; I felt robbed of a sex life that could have held a much more symbiotic relationship between my body and my mind, instead of having felt the ever-present schism between my mind’s allowing my body’s abuse and my body’s erotic response to punishment. Even the preferred atmosphere of opulence and luxury of the Code d’Ode appealed to me; whereas the dungeon or industrial milieu, and the fetish gear of traditional BDSM, has never aroused me.

While I no longer consider myself a practitioner of BDSM now, I fear I’m too old to embark on a new fetish lifestyle, especially since the rules of the Code d’Ode mandate that the female slave be of a certain age and no older. Although there are adherents of the Code who disagree with that particular tenet, it still makes me feel old. The Code d’Odalisque’s Yahoo group currently includes over four thousand members; I have no idea what the

SDk Interview with Marilyn Jaye Lewis

New York City, 1983, aged 23.

/ An online friend

introduced me to the

Code d’Odalisque

and it turned my

understanding of

myself upside down. /

/ For decades, I had chosen to give pleasure to others while allowing myself to be hurt and violated… I felt robbed of a sex life that could have held a much more symbiotic relationship between my body and my mind… /

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