Category Archives: Simply Sex Stuff

30 Days of Kink: Day 6

 Describe your weirdest/most interesting sexual fantasy.

I’m going to assume these are two different questions.

My weirdest fantasy involves seducing (and sometimes psychologically breaking in the process) Søren Kierkegaard. The man was sexually repressed, had some disturbing ideas about women (and even worse ideas about men), but the way he wrote about desire is irresistible. Then he resisted it. Essentially, Kierkegaard thought that whatever he wanted sexually was the most messed up want in creation (which makes me think it might have been kinky. Or that at least he wouldn’t think adding kink would be any worse.), built an elaborate moral framework to prevent himself from ever giving in to his desires (this is unabashedly an ultimate conquest thing–any woman who could seduce Kierkegaard would have to be both the  pinnacle of seductive power and at least Kierkegaard’s equal as an ethicist.) and wrote such sensuous, painful works that it’s impossible not to want more of the mind that created them.

Plus he was a very  pretty man, despite the crazy hair.

Yep. Søren Kierkegaard. Go ahead and judge.

“Most interesting” is harder to pick. I fantasize a lot, and the fantasies are quite varied. There are some about pain, about a hard beating in a cold room until I start to lose the struggle to smother my screams, about a sudden transition to rough sex, intense enough to set the pain aside somewhere it doesn’t matter, about being pushed away and beaten again. Or maybe I should talk about electricity; conductive gloves hooked up to a TENS unit, a woman’s face (all poise and perfect lipstick)  watching mine, laughing when I jump from some shock or slap or pinch. Or maybe I’m feeling violent and vicious. Maybe I want to kiss and bite and steal breath, to slap and punch and see eyes wide in shock. Or maybe I should talk about a gentler cruelty, setting out cuffs, a blindfold, a gag, and say “pick one not to use,” and of course there’s a right answer but I’m not telling. Or any of a thousand others. If they weren’t interesting to me, they wouldn’t be fantasies.

30 Days of Kink: Day 5

What was your first kinky sexual experience? If you haven’t had one yet, talk about what you hope to have happen.

My first wasn’t all that exciting, actually. B was obsessively into bondage, and his family had a small sailboat that gave him a great excuse to practice all kinds of knots. We were in high school, though. It was awkward enough to find somewhere to make out without being stumbled upon by parents or brothers and sisters, and we both felt that being discovered doing something kinky would be the End of the World.  So the act was planned probably about two or three weeks before I suggested a neighborhood under construction. The houses were set back from main roads, the whole community was being built at the same time with no workers present at night, and there were plenty of skeleton homes.

It was twilight when we got there, but we sat in his car being nervous and awkward (a lot of “are you sure?” and “I can take you home if you want. Or to a movie.”) for a while. I asked if he’d be able to see what he was doing, and he went into Eagle Scout mode, showing off lanterns and blankets and a whole host of other stuff he’d brought just in case. So we went inside. It was a skeleton house, so “inside” still felt fairly exposed. He set down a blanket and had me kneel while he set up two lanterns and arranged rope and looked at diagrams. I was dressed normally for a casual night in South Florida (which is still probably half-dressed most anywhere else) in shorts and a cutoff halter top, if I remember correctly.

He got started, referring to his book often, pausing to ask if a position was uncomfortable or a knot was too tight. After a while he stepped back and looked pleased with himself. He tried to take a Polaroid shot so I could see how it looked, but there wasn’t enough light for it to come out. Then things got awkward. He had me all tied up but didn’t know what to do with me, and I couldn’t move at all. We had a too-long conversation that essentially boiled down to me saying “so. . . now what?” and him saying “I don’t know.” After a bit I said the mosquitoes were biting pretty badly, and he apologized and untied me. We packed up and went back to his place and played Super Smash Brothers (the original. This happened that long ago. Oy.) with his brother. It was all very anticlimactic. Later on we had more confidence and better planning, which improved things a great deal.

 

 

30 Days of Kink: Day 4

Any early experiences that, in retrospect, hint at your kinks?

The short answer to this is no, my relevant early experiences were explicitly kinky, no hint about it. I’m not referring to childhood experiences, because although “childhood behavior x1 is clearly related to kinky behavior x2.” makes a compelling narrative, I don’t buy it. Kink is intensely sexual. Any behavior I participated in before being a sexual person I just can’t relate to kink.

As I said last week, I was introduced to BDSM very early in my first relationship. I got to skip the angst-filled stage of not knowing how to get what I wanted, though figuring out what I actually enjoyed vs. what looked exciting on paper took longer. I learned early to be blunt and direct when asking what I wanted, rather than hoping my partner would magically guess. I got used to hearing “no” a lot, too, but having had a kinky partner first and having read a kink book or three as a young teen helped mitigate the feeling that being kinky made me some kind of freak.

That said, there are certainly factors that led to my being more open to kink when I first learned of it. I know B expected a bad reaction of some kind when I found his copy of Screw the Roses, and most girls probably would have. It wasn’t just that I especially liked him, either. He was very pretty, athletic, and popular, so when we started going out I assumed that he’d get bored and move on to a prettier, more outgoing, or sportier girl rather quickly. I had no intention of getting attached. Finding that book was a big deal for several reasons. First of all, I knew a secret of his. I’m sure he worried that I’d tell people, but even when we broke up (twice) that was never a temptation. Knowing it made me feel closer to him though, like a co-conspirator. Second and more important, kink was something we had in common at a comparable skill level. We both enjoyed surfing, but I wasn’t strong enough even to paddle out on days when the waves were good, and even in low surf I wiped out most of the time. We played Scrabble quite a lot, and I would wipe the floor with him. BDSM was something we could learn and do together. Finally, I was always an outcast as a kid and a teenager, so I knew better than to reject a new idea just because it wasn’t mainstream.

Kink is certainly compatible with a lot of aspects of my personality. I  like to push boundaries and try new things, and kink certainly provides an avenue for that. I’ve always been willing to go to great lengths to prove I’m tough–I loved showing off bruises and stitches as a kid. Again, this carries over nicely to BDSM. I have some compulsive tendencies. Structure and planning make my life much easier, and the typical vanilla model of not talking about sex seems a lot more stressful to me than the ideal BDSM model wherein we always at least discuss a vague outline (who’s hitting whom, and with what, and where) before getting started. [Note: I know vanilla sex can and should be discussed, and that BDSM sometimes is not. The dichotomy presented here is meant to outline differences in socially prescribed behavior in mainstream vs. kink culture, not to suggest that the described behavior is universal in either case.] That said, it’s possible to push boundaries and be tough without kink, perhaps by taking a boxing class, and my compulsive behavior is if anything diminished in sexual contexts. The bottom line is, kinky stuff is fun, and there’s no way I could have known it was fun without trying it first.

30 Days of Kink: Day 3

Day 3: How did you discover you were kinky?

It was my first boyfriend, with the kinky book, in a ’97 Jeep Wrangler.

B and I had been sort-of dating for about six weeks. I was fifteen, too-tall and too-thin, the pale ginger nerd with glasses. He was sixteen, three inches shorter than me, muscular and tan from surfing and sailing. I say sort-of dating because at first we were both too shy to call it that. There were dinner-and-movie nights, he didn’t laugh when I wiped out on the long board (on probably 90% of the waves I tried to catch. I’m a really terrible surfer), and he wasn’t too shy to respond when I kissed him. All pretty standard teenage stuff.

Then one day I noticed an orange 5-gallon bucket in the back of his brother’s Jeep. It was full of tangled rope. “What’s this for?”

He looked back. “Oh, I meant to leave that on the boat.”

Now, I’m kind of compulsive. B wasn’t acting like he was covering up a big secret. And that rope was tangled. So I started pulling and wrapping it into neater coils, at which point B almost crashed the car and shouted “Don’t do that!”

A little too late, because I’d already noticed the book in the bottom of the bucket, and I was not about to give it up without seeing what it was.

It was a badly battered copy of Screw the Roses, Send Me the Thorns. The cover is not exactly subtle.

I’m pretty sure B expected me to freak the hell out, demand to be taken home, and probably go on to tell everyone at both of our high schools that he was a pervert. Instead, I told him to shut up and started flipping through it. “Is this what you’re into?” I didn’t give him time to answer, just said “hot” and kept reading. He kept quiet and kept driving until we ended up parked at a beach downtown. Then we talked for a long time. I don’t remember a lot of details, though I’m sure it was awkward. He asked more than once if I thought he was a freak. I asked if I could borrow his book.

I couldn’t articulate any reason for the appeal at the time, but I found the whole idea of BDSM exciting. I had never been drawn to relationships as seen in Cosmo or on TV, but this book presented a whole different paradigm that I just had to try out. To be clear, B and I were just teenagers with a book. We made a lot of mistakes and weren’t actually all that well suited to each other. I’m glad we did it. Having someone to just be kinky with and try new things with and to just talk to without worrying that saying “I want…” would be met with “that’s insane” was invaluable to both of us.

30 Days of Kink: Day 2

(I am [obviously] not doing one of these every day.)

List your kinks.

But I hardly know you! You could at least buy me a drink first. Oh, all right.

This one I kept putting off because my kinks are somewhat varied and partner/situation specific. I can give a few general favorites, though.

Kissing. Not kinky? I don’t care. Kissing is the best activity known to man and I can’t get enough of it.

Impact is something I enjoy both as a top and as a bottom. This covers a lot: I like punching, slapping, and spanking. I prefer to wield a belt or strap if not using my bare hands. I would rather be hit with something at least a little “thuddy,” and will always take a paddle, cane, or PVC pipe over a crop or a switch. (I married a sadist. He favors the switch, obviously.) Biting, scratching, pulling hair, and teasing are also favorites. I will always insist, with pouting and stamping of feet, that I am not an exhibitionist. However I’m not shy about playing at parties, and am quite fond of naughty behavior in the very-secluded outdoors.

As a bottom I like breath play (from corsets to strangulation), wax (which we haven’t used in years because it’s such a mess), and electrical stimulation (I am addicted to my TENS unit for non-kink purposes as well. It does very nice things for sore shoulders.). Now that I’ve tried fire play with someone who knows what he’s doing, I can definitely say I like it (both fire wands and cupping). I have some trust issues when it comes to bondage, but I do like the results when my husband ties me up.

As a top, there are fewer particular activities that I go for (well, aside from the impact/biting/scratching &c mentioned above). I’m a fan of blindfolds and sensation play, and leather wrist cuffs. I’m a huge reaction junkie, so if I’m hitting someone and they just stand there still and silent, I’m going to get bored and possibly a little offended. On the other hand, if a guy is really into feet and shoes, I’ll get off on foot worship or trampling even though feet are a very boring body part to me. My favorite thing is getting a response, whether it’s facial expressions, moaning, writhing, or just verbal feedback (best if nervous and shy). I absolutely adore hearing someone beg. It’s an instant 100% guaranteed turn-on.  I appreciate it all the more because I just can’t do it. If I try to beg, I’ll say ‘please’ maybe twice and then start cussing, threatening, demanding, and otherwise acting like a complete brat.

I get unreasonably annoyed if a partner is taller than me. Thankfully, I am not short, and have many lovely pairs of high heels.

30 Days of Kink: Day 1

So, there’s a thing floating around the Internet. A 30-question quiz that seems like a good idea for a blog that needs a brief pause to think about what it’s doing here. (Yes, my blog is in time-out. It’s been acting bratty and I feel like I shouldn’t give it too much leeway when it’s so new or it’ll just walk all over me. Forever.)

So! The thing! 30 days of kink, currently being undertaken on Lipstick and Ligature and trackable by stages back here. Now on to question one, with fanfare please.

Dom, sub, switch? What parts of BDSM interest you? Give us an interesting in-depth definition of what that means to you. Basically define your kinky self for us.

I really want to be snarky, look at the title of this blog, and say, “kinky? Goodness, I’m here to write laundry folding techniques.”*

For simplicity’s sake, I identify as a switch. For accuracy’s sake, I should probably say that I’m a sadomasochist, with a lot more experience in receiving pain than giving it. Masochism does a lot for me mentally–I have pretty severe anxiety and tend to overthink every aspect of everything I do until I’ve made myself miserable. Being spanked, beaten, shocked or choked seems to override that tendency most of the time, and it’s incredibly relaxing.  Sadism is a little more complicated because hurting someone else is conceptually terrifying. The  “what if?” machine that fuels so much of my anxiety starts going into overdrive: what if I screw up, if this is too much/not enough, what if my partner’s so quiet because s/he’s not enjoying this, what if wanting and enjoying this means I’m a sociopath? And so on. But I do enjoy it, the sensations and the reactions and the overwhelming awe that someone would trust me enough to hurt them.

I’m more than a little greedy, and I like things done a certain way. There’s certainly a strong appeal to the idea of being dominant, but it’s not something I’ve had the opportunity to more than play with.  I don’t do much on the D/s end of things these days.  My husband and I might introduce a power dynamic for the length of a scene, but we’re both rather too fond of getting our own way to have a consistent long term dynamic in either direction. We tried, early in our relationship, and I think I vetoed every domly thing he wanted and we had a pile of arguments before realizing that we were much happier without trying to include D/s in our S&M.

I don’t know if that counts as defining my kinky self or not, especially given that these things all change drastically depending on my partner, our relationship, and my mood, among other things. I feel like this was supposed to be an easy question but I fall outside of normal categories a bit too much to answer it simply.

*In all earnestness, there is only one right way to fold laundry. Unless you’re traveling, in which case there is a different only right way.

Just Kidding

Senr Paulo as Clown by J. L. Marks

A friend of mine is threatening to tickle his wife. She’s dancing away, squeaking “No, I mean it, stop!” before hiding behind my husband. He backs off, hands raised. “No isn’t a safeword.” He’s laughing as he says it, and most everyone else in the room laughs, too. My husband and I share a look. That wasn’t funny, right?

Now I know he didn’t mean it. I’ve played with him several times now, and watched him at parties. He checks in often, and acts more than responsible in that context. His wife isn’t actually afraid of non-consensual tickling or anything else he might do. Hell, she laughed at the joke.

And yet, I’m uncomfortable. I wonder why everyone else seems to think this is funny. It isn’t that I think he’s a rapist, it’s that the joke seems irresponsible. Not everyone here knows this couple. Not everyone even knows that they are a couple. All a new person or infrequent visitor is going to see in this exchange is a man implying that it’s okay to ignore a “no” if he feels like it. There’s an implication that a bottom or a sub or a woman’s consent only matters as long as a top/dominant/man feels like indulging her. And by laughing, like so many people did, or by keeping quiet, like I did, his audience implied that we were okay with this.

Do I think there was a person in the room who left more likely to rape because of this joke? No, of course not. But what about the other jokes? How many men in bars and clubs will say “your mouth says no, but [I don’t care what the rest of this sentence says, it’s kind of rapey]”, and complain that a woman has no sense of humor when she doesn’t laugh (or sleep with him)? Why are there multiple different t-shirt designs depicting rohypnol as basically a dating aid? Why is any woman who says no to sex at any time, for any reason, accused of teasing or “blue-balling” a man, as though he has a fundamental right to have sex with any available female simply because he wishes to? Any one of these things in isolation is a joke in bad taste. The prevalence of them points to a cultural undercurrent that accepts rape as normal and expected. And a culture that treats rape as the norm is going to produce more rapists.

In the BDSM community, I would have expected more care. Consent gets blurred, sometimes deliberately for scenes, and people will sit down and discuss doing things to each other that would be felony assault in almost any other context. Saying “no is not a safeword,” even in jest, even to someone you know well, suggests that choosing a safeword, defining how and when consent can be given and rescinded, is a right that is not granted to every person participating in a scene. And deciding that one person has more or less right to consent than another? That’s what makes people think rape is okay.

I won’t get into statistics or finer sociological points. Others have done their research and stated it in terms more eloquent than I could. I’m just here to say it’s not funny to joke about rape.

Folks who have said it better include:

Cliff Pervocracy

Sex Geek

Organon