Day 6: Describe your weirdest/most interesting sexual fantasy.
I've only ever had two sexual fantasies in my life.
Okay, I've had thousands, but they've all been installments in a long-running series, and I've only had two of those. I switched around age 21; I don't remember the exact time or why I did.
The first one was softer and sweeter. It was about a couple, a man and a woman (I can't tell you their names; for some reason that's one the part that feels too personal), who could travel between parallel universes. They had found a little pocket universe that was all their own. It was just a house, a big fancy villa with a courtyard and a pool and all the fixin's, and that was the entire universe. And they fucked their way across the universe.
Their sexual discovery tracked with my own; they started off with just the glee of "we can touch these parts of each other? that's a thing we can do? WHOA" and then moved into more elaborate scenarios. They were kinky, of course (the woman was dominant), but it was always in a soft sort of way. It was a way they played around, but they were also in love and ended their scenes gently holding each other.
After about seven years of this, I abruptly switched tracks, and things got darker. The couple in love went away, and instead, I imagined a single character at a time, very alone in their world. There are several characters like this, male and female, and they're all sort of impersonalized. Their names are just letters of the alphabet. Jay, Kay, Elle, Em, you get the idea.
They live full-time in a computer simulation created for the purposes of kinky sex. Basically the Sex Matrix. It allows them to do anything they want, with outlandish scenarios constructed on command, and without fear of harming their real bodies. Some of the people they encounter in the simulation are other users, some are NPCs, and it's not always clear which is which.
The sex they have is extreme, ludicrously anal-focused, and... running up against that "somehow this is the part I find too personal" wall again. But none of it is happening to their real bodies, and they can unplug themselves whenever they want, and... that makes it all okay, right?
Day 4: Any early experiences that, in retrospect, hint at your kinks?
Day 5: What was your first kinky sexual experience? If you haven’t had one yet, talk about what you hope to have happen.
I'm putting these together because I think I answered Day 4 pretty well in the last entry.
Although I'll add one more: student films. I got a film degree at a point in my life when I knew about kink, had already had kinky experiences, but at that particular point in my life I was mostly celibate. (Not out of kink-guilt. Partly because I'd just had a terrible breakup from a terrible relationship, partly because I didn't turn 18 and "legal" until halfway through my junior year, and partly because I had approximately zero social skills.)
I had no intention to make my final project kinky in any way. It wasn't about my kinks. It was just a horror film about a guy who joins a cult to try and raid their ill-gotten riches. But the cult "initiates" him by torturing him. A lot. Creatively. For most of the film. There's an entirely excessive number of "wait, we have to initiate you some more" scenes in the film. I figured I was just ramping up the horror, right?
...Oops. In retrospect, oops.
(Content warnings for the next bit: Statutory rape, emotional abuse, legal system fuckery.)
Day 5 happened when I was 16 years old. My boyfriend's parents were out of town for the weekend and we had the whole weekend and the whole house to ourselves, which is whoooa when you're 16. (Well, I don't know about you. It was for me.) We walked around the house naked the entire weekend, which was amazingly sexual at the time, even if nowadays it usually just means I'm feeling lazy as hell.
We had sex a bunch of times, but the last time on Sunday night, I asked him to spank me. I was all shy and stuff about it. And he did. He started out with little tippity-taps. "No, I want you to spank me," I said. So he wound up and did it for real, smacking me hard on the ass, over and over. I went from "um please just a little um you know um" to "FUCK YEAH FUCKING SPANK ME THAT'S FUCKING RIGHT." It was fantastic. I didn't want it to end. But when it did end, I tackled him and fucked the hell out of him.
That was the last time we had sex.* The next morning the police were there. My mom had reported me as a missing person, filed a restraining order against my boyfriend, canceled my scholarships and withdrawn me from my school. (The first two because I hadn't come home when commanded so she told the cops I'd disappeared for a week, the second two because I had a B average. GOD I LOVE BEING AN ADULT NOW.) My life utterly fell apart and wouldn't be back together for more than a year, the abuse at home peaked from "bad" to "how did I survive that?", and even though the restraining order was not upheld in court, my boyfriend decided I was not worth this level of trouble.
In retrospect, he wasn't worth my trouble either--he was way too old to be dating a 16-year-old and didn't exactly make up for it by treating me well. But that spanking. I don't regret that. That changed things. Forever.
*We did have sex one more time a couple years later, but it was thoroughly mediocre and rekindled absolutely nothing. I'd kind of caught on that he wasn't such a spectacular person by that point.
I masturbated for a long time before I understood it was masturbation. I knew that such a thing existed, but it was dirty and sleazy and desperate. I didn't do anything like that. All I did was touch myself between my legs and it felt nice, then felt really nice, then I didn't feel like doing it any more that night.
It was the same with kink. There were things I knew fascinated me far before I could say "that's a sexual feeling." I was eight years old, maybe six, way pre-puberty, and I would lie on the floor with my action figures making them play erotic games of capture, torture, and submission.
This goes back as far as I can remember.
(The mental image gets much better when I point out that I didn't have any matching sets of action figures. So this generally involved Commander Data making an off-brand Power Ranger his slave, with the assistance of a Tyrannosaurus and a sentient pickup truck.)
I was about fourteen or fifteen when I started having unrestricted private access to the Internet, and more or less instantaneously I discovered kink and BDSM. Of course, at the time I thought it was this fascinating but disreputable thing other people, disreputable people, did. It took about a year for me to realize that my fascination was not academic and my fantasies were not unconnected. So I guess that's when I discovered I was kinky? But it's really just when I discovered the name. I already knew.
When we last saw our heroes, Stud BeefThud had arranged a really weird gynecologist exam for Ana at his house, because he is rich in the creepiest possible way.
Content warnings for this chapter: Emotional and physical abuse, as always. Casual misogyny. Graphic BDSM and sex--I guess I'm pretty inconsistent in warning for that, because that applies to my entire blog and much of my life, but anyway, there's some in here.
With that out of the way... this one is difficult for me. I've never really experienced sexuality as an itemized list of fetishes. I can't say, like, "rope bondage, feet, having my nose tickled with an ostrich feather by a man dressed as my third grade teacher." There's nothing so specific.
I'm more like "confronting the physicality of my own flesh," and that's great for poetry readings, not so much for actually figuring out what the fuck I'm going to do tonight.
I also say "I don't know yet; I'm still discovering" a lot. I've been in the scene for, shit, seven years now, and I still feel like a newcomer when I see just how much is out there. Or a kid in a candy shop, and I'm too caught up in "I want to try one of everything!" to start narrowing myself down.
And secretly, part of the reason I get all "I like almost everything, really I'm just into this for the philosophy" is that I do have some specific kinks, but I feel weirdly embarrassed and shy about them. Like saying "I like to be dominated" is vague and sanitized enough to feel totally chill, but when I get too close to what really makes me squirm in my pants, saying "I like to get threatened that someone will shove a huge thing up my ass" gets uncomfortable.
Not so uncomfortable that I won't do it, though! So, in no particular order:
1. Biting, punching, wrestling, and other forms of no-tools SM. On a physical level I like flogging, but I liiiike skin-to-skin rough body play.
2. Things in my bum. Like, a lot. Like, I don't talk about this much because I know that if I get started I'm going to start sounding weird as it progresses from "oh yeah, anal sex, lots of people are into that" to "no, you don't understand, I would put a traffic cone in my ass if I could."
3. Related but not totally overlapping: the general concept of putting way too much phallic object in way too little orifice. Again, it gets weird fast--I don't just mean "big dicks," I mean "...maybe two traffic cones."
4. Being held down and forced to do things, assuming that the things are exactly what I wanted to do anyway. Inclusive of when I feel like doing them and who I want to do them with. This all hinges on a very generous interpretation of the word "forced," obviously, but once we've established what exactly I want to be forced to do, the scene can get plenty rough.
5. Humiliation, but only in a specific way. I don't want to be told that I'm useless; I want to be told that I'm useful, and the top will be using me now. I like the feeling of being used.
It's weird how shy I felt about saying those things, and how "oh, is that all? that's not so bad at all" I feel having actually said them now. Kind of a huge relief actually.
Next up: I'm finally getting back to Fifty Shades of Grey!
I live! I live! I graduated nursing school, am still waiting for a test date for my boards, and I live!
I live, and I want to write again. I've been writing every day on my tumblr, but that's not the same. It's a big mishmash of puppy pictures and askboxes and stuff. The Pervocracy is my real home on the Internet.
So, to get back in the swing of long-form non-puppy blogging, I'm doing a 30 Days of Kink challenge. You can read all the questions here.
Day 1: 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'm a bottom, an occasional switch, and harbor a deeply guarded but deeply treasured capacity for submission.
The kinky thing I do most often is get hit. I like getting hit. It’s such an OOMPH of a feeling, a sharp snap into the physical reality of my body, the tough meatiness of my muscles and fine-grained sensitivity of my nerves.
It’s also a challenge. Because although I like getting hit, I don’t have much pain tolerance. Sometimes that means we keep it light, more of a manhandling than a real beating, only hitting me hard enough to make a little noise but not enough to cause serious pain. (This kind of play usually involves a lot of giggling.)
Other times I go into a subspace trance and enter an ecstatic altered state where pain don’t hurt. This requires a lot of trust, because once I’m in that state my communication gets either garbled or absent, and I don’t have much sense of my own limits. Feels so good though.
And other times, more rarely… I go past my pain tolerance. I get to a level of pain that makes me think “I can’t possibly deal with this” and I deal with it. I look at the pain head-on and transform its image in my mind into heat, into cold, into red, into simply nerves firing. I find a moment when I can tolerate intolerable pain and I hold myself in that moment. It’s not as sexy-fun as the other two ways of dealing with pain, but when I’ve done it, man, I feel good about myself. Tolerating the intolerable, even for half a second, makes me feel like the champion of the goddamn world.
I know how to hit, too, and I get a little thrill, but it’s usually much less visceral. The best times have been when I’ve been comfortable getting really physically into the bottom’s space—hitting someone while we were skin-to-skin, pressed together so close that I could feel every gasp and flinch, every time their muscles tensed or relaxed, every deep or shallow or ragged draw of breath.
As for submission… there lurk the things that still feel wrong. Gloriously, tantalizingly wrong. These are the kinks, that for me, still hold the delicious flavor of taboo. The flavor, so hard to find as an adult, of sneaking out through the woods at night, of dirty comics under the mattress, of awkwardly sincere love poems hastily passed and quickly concealed. These are the things that don’t make me feel like “you know, it’s just another way of experiencing pleasure…”; they make me feel like a god damn pervert. I love them.
I'm not dead! I'm in the last month of nursing school. I haven't had much time or energy to write. I'm utterly exhausted, a bit demoralized, and so, so close to a new chapter in my life.
I think I'm at the point I was at when I left Seattle--of looking at my life and thinking there's nothing at all wrong with it, except that I can't see this being my only life. I want to reincarnate. There's so much stuff out there to experience, and I have the freedom and opportunity to go out and experience some more, and I intend to.
I've been going through my grandfather's slides lately. My grandmother died a few months ago, and I took the slides from her house. My grandfather loved to travel, and I'm not sure I fully understood that until I started going through these slides. There's wild leopards in them, and thousand-year-old synagogues, and million-year-old glaciers, and a stunning variety of things that look like penises. Just pages and pages of rock penises and wood penises and gourd penises, interspersed with all the glories of the Earth. I love my grandfather now more than ever. I want to travel as widely as him, to live as fully as he did, and to see as many penises.
And so I'm going to leave Boston. I don't yet know when or for where. I still love Rowdy dearly and the idea of leaving him breaks my heart--but I also know he doesn't want me to stay here just for him, and deep down neither do I. I'll visit often and I'll email and I'll always love him. But I may move away from him.
Anyway. Wherever I go, Fifty Shades of Grey will still be with me. Unfortunately.
Content warnings for this chapter: Stalking, mostly. Physical and emotional abuse, although the physical is not quite so intense as in some other chapters. And one sketchy-ass gynecologist.
I'm back! Unfortunately, I've been going through some bad depression once again, so... yeah. That's why. I'm getting treatment and hopefully will be on the up-slope soon.
(No, I'm not depressed from reading Fifty Shades of Grey. I'm depressed from the stuff that made me so good at spotting abusive behaviors in Fifty Shades of Grey.)
In our last installment, our Brave Hero threatened to rape the heroine, and then they went off and had consensual sex, or as consensual as it can be immediately after a rape threat. Making jokes about this book has become increasingly difficult. It's like, I want to write about things besides abuse, but literally nothing else happens!
Content warnings for this chapter: Kidnapping, extremely graphic physical abuse, sexual assault for the umpteenth time, homophobia, even more emotional abuse than usual.
ANNOUNCEMENT: I will be speaking at the University of Chicago Sex Week again this year! I'll be talking about "Sex Outside The Lines" at 7pm on Saturday, February 8, on the second floor of the Logan Center (915 E 60th St.) It's free and open to the public, and last year was a great time, so I highly encourage you to attend if you're in the area.
Well, here we are. Past the halfway point. Before I get into this one, I want to tell you a little bit about my weekend. (Graphic BDSM coming. FYI.)
On Saturday night, I went to a kink party with Rowdy and his girlfriend Artemis*. We walked around for a bit watching people scening, then I asked if they wanted to do a scene where they both topped me. They did, so I stripped down to underwear and we talked. I told them I wanted to be punched and flogged, mostly on the back over the shoulderblades, and we agreed how I would let them know if I was having a good time or a bad one.
And then they started hitting me. Rowdy and Artemis took turns, first bare-knuckled and then with leaden sap gloves, then with a heavy leather flogger. It started out slow with a lot of "how's that? harder?" and quickly got more primal. For a while I was laughing with every blow, then gasping as the pain built up. While Artemis punched me, Rowdy held me from the front, hugging me to his chest as I alternately giggled and moaned. Artemis dug her fingers deeply into my back, grabbing the bruised and tender muscles, twisting them. That's when I started to slip into a trance. I closed my eyes tightly and stopped laughing and everything turned inward. The blows stopped being "pain, but good" and started being "good, but good." Rowdy and Artemis took turns a few more times. They were holding my hair, kissing each other over my shoulder, biting my skin. I was less and less aware of time and of what specifically they were doing, and more aware of... flying. Just flying through endless inner space on a rocket made of endorphins and sweaty leather.
I came back to Earth on a plushy sofa, with Rowdy holding me and kissing me and giving me sips of water. "That was amazing," we both said. "I love you," we both said. "My back feels funny," I said.
*Oh, right. Rowdy broke up with Sprite like three years ago and he's been dating Artemis for more than a year now and she's pretty awesome. Probably should've mentioned this at some point.
So that's real BDSM for you. It's not the only way you can do BDSM, for sure--there's a million ways--but I think it's not a bad example. I asked for it, and I could have stopped it without fear of retaliation. My tops asked me--and gave me--what I wanted, not merely what I could tolerate. The whole thing was full of a spirit of fun and experimentation, not anger or bitterness. And I loved the hell out of it. I didn't come away thinking "that wasn't so bad" or "I had that coming." I came away thinking "I feel fucking fantastic."
So you can see why I'm completely appalled and disappointed by the way my beloved kinks are presented in Fifty Shades of Grey. It's one of the most joyous things in my life, and it's being forced on someone who hates it, and E.L. James is saying this is okay and sexy. It breaks my damn heart.
Content warnings for this chapter: Emotional abuse, you know the drill. Also rape threats and graphic sex immediately following rape threats.
When we last read Fifty Shades of Grey, our hero was threatening our heroine with rape and furiously badgering her any time she disagreed with him over petty little things. ...That could describe any chapter in the book. You don't have to read this one too closely to keep up.
I like this picture. It was originally illustrating a guy going "wow, I can never live up to this amazing Christian Grey fella, I'm just an ordinary man." But it is also, for very different reasons, the exact face I make when I read this book.
Content warnings for this chapter: The force-feeding thing, the child sexual abuse thing, the adult sexual abuse thing, the continuous rampant emotional abuse thing... boy has this book numbed me out. You know, the thing, with the horribleness.
This is not going to be a very funny chapter. I would not blame you one bit if you skipped it. I'm going to go through it, for the sake of complete commentary, but there's a point in this chapter where there's no hope of making any jokes.
Plot summary if you choose to skip: Ana "jokingly" breaks up with Christian Grey. He thinks it's real and breaks into her house and rapes her.
MAJOR content warning: Rape. Not rape references or "that's kind of like rape"; outright graphic rape. Also home invasion, emotional abuse, child sexual abuse.
How could I have let Cosmocking slide? What has become of me?
Rather than stretch things out by doing the three (!) backlogged Cosmos I've got separately, I'm just going to make a mega-post with a little bit of the worst from October, November, and December.
Covers! "The Scary Thing 90% of Men Fantasize About" is having sex with someone who isn't their partner! "Weird Things Guys Do When You're Not Around" basically comes down to sometimes they're naked! I can understand the need to be shocking on the cover, but I can't forgive faking it, not in a world where "female kangaroos have three vaginas" is an actual fact! And then there's Miley! Wearing an otherwise see-through suit covered in rhinestones and encouraging us to "twerk your ass off"! Yes, dear, you're very scandalous. Good for you. We're all very scandalized.
The kind of woman who's really rising in her career in her 20s tends to be high in testosterone [...] High-testosterone guys tend to be more aggressive, tough-minded, and competitive--and not as compassionate or emotionally expressive. High-estrogen guys, on the other hand, have no problem expressing their emotions and are trusting and empathetic but can be indecisive.
And guys who are high in black bile tend to be dry and cold and associated with the element of Earth.
This would almost be interesting if it was validated with blood tests and not the author going on to speculate that Barack Obama is probably high-estrogen because he called his wife "the boss." As it is, it's just yet another weird attempt to go "oh no, I would never hold sexist and transphobic opinions, but you can't argue with science!"
Well, guess what? I just put on glasses and a white lab coat. Now I get to decide what objective truth is! And, using some very long and newly-discovered words, I can tell you that according to SMIM1 Vel antigen levels and dynamic computed tomography, you are a poophead.
Slick his fingers with shower gel, and have him reach around and give you some digital pleasure.
Ow. No. Ow. You know that feeling when you get soap in your eye? Transpose that south a little and let me know if it sounds sexy.
You wake up with 2.5 minutes to spare before your alarm rings. Rip off the cami you slept in, and tie it over his eyes. Now you can spin a fantasy using nothing but your words. Here, we'll get you started: "All the neighbors are crowded around the windows right now, watching us..."
Since "try springing BDSM on him when he's least expecting it" was a couple issues ago, Cosmo has now upped the stakes to "try springing BDSM on him when he's goddamn asleep."
I do want to use this fantasy, though, because I live on the second floor. "All the neighbors are crowded around the windows right now. They're hovering. Sickly green flames flicker in the places where their eyes used to be."
Q: My boyfriend is a unicorn. He's not into porn or strip clubs. But I am. I'd love to watch porn while we're having sex or have a wild night at a strip club together. Are we incompatible?
A: Guys who say they're not into porn are either lying or repressed... and lying. [...] suggest a girl-on-girl scene to eliminate the possibility of him being intimidated by porn penises. If he says no, you need to decide if you're okay being with a guy who's so closed off and unwilling to explore with you.
I'm not even explaining why this is wrong. I can't. It's like being asked "why wouldn't tinfoil make a good tampon?" There's so many different layers of wrong that I'm just going to trip over myself trying to pick which one to talk about first.
I've never come even remotely close to playing make-believe in the bedroom. The truth is, I've been too scared! It's challenging enough to feel comfortable being yourself during sex, let along someone else. Plus, what if my partner found my fantasy freaky? What if I bungled the dialogue? What if I started giggling... or worse, what if he started laughing at me?
Then you'd be just like people who do this all the time, because we fuck up all the time. What keeps the play hot is that we get good at rolling with it. We get the giggles, but we can laugh together or shut it down with an evil "what are you laughing at?" Our dialogue isn't perfect, but what we do is too intense to worry about critiquing the dialogue. The standard we aim for isn't "seamless" but just "fun."
(Credit where credit's due, by the way; this article actually did a decent job explaining negotiation and safewords.)
Q: During my internship in college, my boss and I flirted a lot but never got physical. I used him as a reference to land my current job, and now that we don't work together, he's been asking me out. [...]
A: [...] If you keep saying no, he could very well be so hurt or confused that he won't be able to serve as a reference for you (at least, not the kind of enthusiastic, professional reference you want). So if you really do like him and he likes you, then say yes.
The new, feminist Cosmo, you guys! Now with extra feminism! And the occasional barely-veiled threat to sabotage your career if you say no to a date!
The weird thing is that the letter writer doesn't imply anything about her ex-boss withholding references or blackmailing her. She just says he's asking her out and she's not sure if that's appropriate. The advice columnist (Ky Henderson) is the one who decided this needed a little extra spice in the form of explicit sexual harassment.
Lure his tongue into your mouth, and when he pulls it back, wrap your lips around the tip, sucking like you would during oral. It's an R-rated preview that will have him aching for the feature presentation.
Gluaghchkauh. (That's not my reaction. That's the noise he would make.)
Set up a movie night on the couch, and tell him he's only getting to first base. It's an innocent come-on that will make you both want more. Letting him try to "convince" you to go further is half the fun.
I'm going to let Louis CK take this one:
(NSFW and talks about rape)
Geese mate for life. Riff on this concept of eternal intertwinement and wrap your leg over his back, which gives him access to your clitoris.
It's a double post day! Because I decided to, that's why! And because nothing happens in either chapter, so really it's like getting zero chapters for the price of two!
(And because I really want to do more original writing, and I'm hoping getting more FSoG out of the way will motivate me to do that.)
I hope you like fakey, blatantly illegal legal documents, because most of this chapter is one of them! In its entirety! Right down to the signature page and appendices! Because EROTICA!
Content warnings for this chapter: A legal document that somehow still manages to incorporate emotional and physical abuse and total disregard for consent. Also forced exercise.
Nothing interesting happens in this chapter, but I made a really good joke in Chapter 11, and we won't get to that if I don't post this.
Content warnings for this chapter: Emotional abuse (which is almost continuous in this chapter), child/adolescent sexual abuse. You know, light fluffy romance stuff.
When we left off, Dirk HardPec was raging out at Ana because she admitted to him that she was a virgin. I remind you that this is our romantic hero who is supposed to be the epitome of the sexually appealing man.
Content warnings for this chapter: graphic sex, general abusive dickheaddery. I tell some icky personal stories, one of which involves coerced ickiness and both of which involve blood.
When we last saw our intrepid heroes, they were entering Hack BlowFist's playroom, and she was playing "I'm too innocent to know anything about sex ever" while he was playing "I'm too domly to make any accommodations for that."
Content warnings for this chapter: disordered eating, plus coercion and emotional abuse all the hell over the place. (And detailed BDSM talk, but I feel weird "warning" for that, lumping one of the happiest parts of my life in with all those terrible things. Also, you're on a blog called "The Pervocracy" that has "BDSM" at the top of every page. ...Anyway, there's detailed BDSM talk in here.)
When we last left Fifty Shades of Grey, a man had found a woman by tracing her cellphone and now was taking her unconscious body up to his hotel room. Which would be fine, if this were a spy thriller. Unfortunately, it's a BDSM romance.
Content warnings for this chapter: sexual assault, a LOT. Plus stalking and general "you might not want to read this while eating" grossness.
