Sex, Words, and Trauma 2015

October 18th, 2015

“So, you’re not going to write about me?”

I don’t write about the sex I have. I don’t write about things I’m not willing to do in public, because let’s face it, the internet is public. Intimacy is intimate, to me. Bedrooms are private. I write about scenes, and if they were private scenes at the time, that led to sexy things, I generally have a fade to black. Or did not describe that part specifically. So, when I have a relationship that is more intimate and less kinky, I don’t write about what we do. I think, instead, I might give a try writing about how it makes me feel.

I am also having a love languages issue, complicated by my ever-present battle with insecurity. Service is my main love language, and it is present in all of my relationships – taking care of one another. It is the Words of Affirmation, that I am finding myself stumbling over. Part of my brain says that service, actions, should be enough. That I shouldn’t need specific words, or that I should hear the words in the actions. But I have discovered that I do want to hear the words, as well, far more than I realized. So, I’m working on the how and why of that.

Trauma is coming! Two weeks from now, Trauma will be over, and I will be Sleeping. Crew is shaping up nicely, much better than my exhausted brain remembered Friday night. So that’s good. I’m looking forward to it with the same kind of dread and excitement as always, though perhaps a bit more dread as it coincides with the weekend between my last two weeks of internships, and the weekend has a wedding to go to, as well.

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Connection, Intimacy & Trust

December 30th, 2011

 

I need to read more Heinlein. An illustration Wednesday night included a reference to a character in Stranger in a Strange Land, who is apparently the best kisser because he completely focuses on the person he’s kissing. That kind of complete focus is something I both yearn for and strive for. I play in public a lot, so there are always other people, movement, sounds that distract either myself or my partner. In private play, life can be the distraction. Thinking about other people, or the bills, or the things I have to do today. But when all that goes away, in moments where our attention is completely focused on each other, it is amazing and powerful.

This is something hubby and I are starting to work on, as we try to build intimacy. Spending time just being with each other, focused on each other, touching each other, but not having an agenda beyond connecting. I had a hard time with it this morning. My brain kept going to my To Do list. But I kept dragging it back. Yes, I had a lot to do today, but it was more important to stay in the moment with him. Doing that, staying there, with him, opens us up to each other. Allows for letting down walls and being vulnerable with each other. We had good discussions today that we might not have ever had otherwise.

Other suggestions that were given this week were to create cues to reinforce this. Lighting, music, perhaps even clothing or a symbol to focus intent. I think candles might be good for us, we both enjoy fire and light scents. Incense sounds too heavy for me, though I know hubby likes it. Music will have to be careful about, I get distracted by words too much sometimes. But things to think about.

Another important discussion of this week has been about communication and trust. Specifically, when hubby asks me what I’m thinking, and I shrug or say nothing. I do this because I think the things that are on my mind are either unimportant, or inappropriate to the moment and in either case, I don’t share them. I found out that, to hubby, this comes across as, I don’t trust him with my thoughts. Or even further, hubby creates a list of possible thoughts, and picks the worst one as what I’m really thinking. So, I’ve agreed to work on that, and try to be more open with my thoughts.

We also talked about how open communication can lessen jealousy, fear and insecurity. When hubby watches me scene, he sometimes feels negative emotional reactions, but if I talk to him about the scene afterward, it makes him feel better. For me, I thought that seeing and hearing would create the same reaction, and so tended towards not really talking about such things. Sure I blog about them, and hubby says that helps too, but for him, verbalizing helps him process the most.

This discovery came about as I talked about my flogging on Wednesday. While hubby was doing other things, he had been randomly flogging or paddling me, but then grabbed me by the hair and tossed me up on the cross. I thought to myself, oh awesome, he’s going to beat me into a puddle of tears. The flogging started out light, nice leather mops to work me up into it. Then he moved onto rubber mops to really pound into me. At one point there was a rubber massage ball pounding at my shoulders and neck. I screamed and pounded my foot on the floor to the beating, but I was determined to stay on my feet until I simply couldn’t anymore. I wanted beaten hard and I didn’t want to give up.

So we kept going and going, until he grabbed a long rubber flogger, said Goodnight and dropped me with two strikes. I raised a hand towards the cross, but dropped it when he hit me again. He hit me a few more times with it as I sat on the floor, and then switched to a dragon’s tail. I was able get up to kneeling with those strikes, but I couldn’t stand back up, I was afraid the flogger would come back and I couldn’t stand up to it.

And then he walked away. I felt him go, I wondered for a bit if he was coming back. I wasn’t sure what was going on. I wasn’t crying, I wasn’t a puddle, but I was happy and inside myself. So, I let my hands fall from my chest. He still didn’t come back, he was off behind me to the left, but I couldn’t hear him. I put my hands on my thighs, knelt properly and went further inside myself. Meditated on my body and my mind and how the flogging had made me feel. I meditated on nothing but my contentment. Until the world started coming back, I started to hear his voice again, I started to feel the people around me aside from him, I came back out again. Stood up and rejoined the world.

Talking about this last night, helped hubby to understand what I had gone through. How it had made me feel. He was able to see the scene with my eyes and feel compersion for my happiness. So, I will work sharing with him more so that compersion is easier. And I will trust him to tell me when he wants more or less sharing.

It has been a very good week, with lots of good discussions, sharing and time with my loved ones. Very happy holidays indeed.

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Consensual Non-Consent

September 30th, 2010

I have had fantasies about someone hiding under my bed and jumping me or catching me coming naked out of the shower since I hit puberty. I don’t go for the full on beat the crap out of me type of fantasy that some people may enjoy. I prefer more mental than physical taking of control. Use of fear instead of violence. The threat to keep me still and compliant, rather than being beaten into submission. I’ve never been one for violence. Yes, I like pain, but for it’s own sake, not for taking of control. It is the mind where control truly lives. When I write or imagine such scenes, the assailant usually has a gun or a knife, some physical representation of potential violence, but they never use it.

The other day Lover and I were playing and he said he was going to force me, but when we got to the bedroom, he ordered my clothes off and I complied for no reason other than he said the word Strip. Then we played and had sex. The only consensual non-consent part of the whole thing were the nipple clamps. Later that night, I was thinking about the willingness taking the power from the scene. The idea of my pants being opened and shoved out of the way, my shirt being pulled up just enough for breast access, is far more a turn on than full nudity. It feels more non-consensual that way, feels more like there is resistance, feels more like being used.

Being used. Why is that a turn on? Why on earth would I want to be used?

It is part of the overarching fantasy of giving up all will and control to someone. Being an object, a tool, a toy for their use and pleasure. The added spike of someone taking that control makes it that much hotter of a fantasy. Sex, for me, is the most intimate act, and therefore, taken without consent, the biggest violation. Therefore, it only works with someone I love and trust, it has to be consensual non-consent to turn me on in reality. It’s a fine line to walk. How do you make non-consent hot when it is consensual?

Creating the scene in the mind. Talking as though it was real. Whispered threats and hints at pushing too far. Role playing it out, creating the roles and fully stepping into them. Allowing for resistance and the taking away of control. The element of surprise can be used as well. Having agreed to the scene, but not the time and place. Choosing an unexpected place, perhaps a place with just a bit of danger of being caught, to heighten everyone’s awareness during the scene. Doing things that are unexpected. Forcing actions that are allowed, but not particularly liked. Agreeing to continue the scene until the top is done, regardless of when the bottom is done unless there is dire need to end the scene early – allowing for emergency Red, but not for Yellow.

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Hard Limit – Sex in Public

June 10th, 2010

My current hard limit around public sex is no intercourse with more than two other people present. I don’t do orgies. I don’t do penetrative play at parties. I don’t have sex with an audience. For me, this is about the intimacy of sex. Sexual intercourse is a private thing for me, it’s about a deep love and connection with my partner.

I play in public, at parties, at clubs, in dungeons. I get aroused, I get pushed into sub space, or pain space, I orgasm. And these scenes can be very much about connection and love. They can be very intimate, very personal.

Lately, I’ve been edging towards the line with him. Masturbation and oral while driving down the road, but that felt mostly private and it was a different kind of energy we were creating. Riding his boot in public while wearing a short skirt, with people around – a new edge for me, but not sex.

So, what’s the difference?

Sex, naked and completely vulnerable. Giving everything to each other, sharing everything. It has always involved a deeper level of trust for me. A deeper connection, that I don’t want to share with other people. I want to feel our energy, our connection, not that of other, unconnected people. I have trouble with playing at big parties where the energy of strangers is flowing everywhere, and people interrupt connections. It is even more important to me that sex, and the energy it creates with my partner, be kept private and personal.

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Let’s Talk About Sex, Baby…

April 8th, 2010

Sex was never discussed in my house growing up. Mom never had “the talk” with me, I had it at school from a silly video. It was mentioned by her twice in my life. Once, when a friend of hers had been embarrassed when her 8 year old daughter told her not to have sex if she didn’t want more kids and described the act very poorly because I had misinformed her, being only 9 and just previous to the talk at school when she had asked Me about it. So Mom asked if I knew how it really worked now, and I said yes and that was that. The second time was when we were out buying flowers for my wedding and she wanted to know if I had any questions and to tell me the first time might not be great. I rolled my eyes and said Mom… in that tone most of us perfect as teenagers. My Dad never discussed sex when I was growing up, though as he’s gotten older he’s discussed a lack of sex due to the ineffectualness of Viagra… thanks, Dad.

I only dated one boy for one weekend in High School, and that was only a couple phone conversations, so I’d never even been kissed before I got to college. My first three boyfriends freshman year took me from kissing through oral sex at a not-too-fast pace. It was not until the summer after my sophomore year that I had sex for the first time. Subsequent first visit to OB/GYN for birth control was a godsend as far as period control. I am now nearing 30 and have had a total of 8 sexual partners, 9 if you count 3 seconds of penetration as a sexual partner, I generally don’t. Only 4 of which were/are continuous sexual relationships. I had a few STD tests a couple years ago at the request of a life insurance company and in the past couple weeks, my new doc ran a full panel for me, results still pending, but I’m not expecting any surprises. (That’s why they’re called surprises, eh?)

So that background is all well and good, but what am I really on about? One of my hard limits is sex in public. Public generally being defined as more than two other people(other than the one I’m having sex with) being present. I blush when talking about sex, avoid using sexual terms in public and even in private sometimes. I’ll swear like a sailor, but ask me to say cock or admit I’m thinking about oral and I’m suddenly shy and flustered. Sex, to me, is a private thing, but even more than that, it’s something I find it difficult to be forward about.

One, on the private matter of sex. It is a personal thing, a private thing. Sex, to me, is an expression of intimacy shared between two people, maybe three. It’s a special kind of energy and I don’t fancy the intrusion of other energy into the mix. The excitement of having sex somewhere inappropriate and public has its allure, but the thought of other people watching and the threat of being arrested most often kills it for me. That’s not to say I haven’t had sex in a public park at night, but only when those two factors have been reduced to almost nil.

He asked me to go without panties recently and it was a huge deal. Let my most private and intimate bits be exposed under my skirt? Proper girls just don’t do that(when the hell did I become proper again?). What if someone sees? What if someone grabs me randomly? What if I get pulled over? It took some very serious conversation for me to get past the fear and realize that I was in control of myself, my safety and my personal space. Not to mention, my friends would be around me to protect me should anything go wrong. It was a very freeing experience, and the edge of fear kept under control was wonderful.

Two, on not being sexually forward. Communication is key. I’ve learned, though my journey in kink, that I have to ask for what I want, be clear about what I want and to accept what I want without being ashamed or embarrassed by it. Why hasn’t this transferred to sex as well? I looked back at my posts, even my erotica, I only mention fucking once at the very end. I don’t write overt sex scenes very often and it is even rarer that I share those that I do. I could blame my parents, I could blame my sheltered early life, I could blame being an introvert and generally shy, I could blame a Puritan society. Excuses, excuses, excuses. These are excuses I have let run my sex life.

How do I stop that? How do I let go of fear and embarrassment? Why am I afraid? What am I afraid of? Rejection? Do I think that if I suggest sex or oral or say I’m thinking about your cock, he’s going to say “No, how could you? What kind of girl are you?” How ridiculous is that? Seriously, I can asked to be beat, set on fire, tied up and swung from the rafters, and yet sex, that pretty much everyone on the planet has, trips me up. How silly and neurotic is that? Talking about sex is my Boggart in the closet (yes, a Harry Potter reference). Laugh at the fear to make it go away.

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