The other day MasterDoc asked me if, when it comes to dating women, I sabotage myself. I had to say yes, I think I do but of course figuring out why is much harder.
I do wonder if I have some deeply internalized homophobia going on – as in, being gay is just fine but oooh I’d be a bad person if I did it. Perhaps my upbringing in a Catholic family (albeit rather lapsed), in the suburbs (where people tend to conform even more), during the 80′s (you never saw openly gay kids in high school back then – at least not in the burbs where I was, and blatant homophobia was rampant) all contributed to this state of affairs. My grandmother, who I grew up in the house with, would have flipped out over my brother being gay or me being bi. She was deeply distressed back when Rosie O’Donnell came out. She liked Rosie and was bewildered to find that she’s “a gay.” I pointed out to her that she was still the same exact person she enjoyed watching on tv before, only now she knew more about her private life than before.
My grandmother passed away in 2002, and while I was out to myself as bi (and had had sex with women by then) I was totally closeted as far as my family was concerned. I’m still not out to my dad. My brother only came out as gay around 2006 (he’s much younger than me, he was around 23 at the time). My father, who I was always close to, is deeply uncomfortable with homosexuality. He’s a 62-year-old man who grew up in a Catholic family during an era when homosexuality was truly vilified (hey, he grew up in New York pre-Stonewall). In so many ways my dad is a spectacular guy – but he cannot seem to get it into his head that homosexuality is not a choice, does not do bad things to your soul, and ultimately is a natural part of the world. He would never be mean or antagonistic towards someone he knew was gay, but he would be deeply uncomfortable.
Since I’ve been closer to my dad than my mom, it’s not surprising that after my brother came out I came out to my mother – because frankly I could give a shit if she didn’t like it. But I’m really afraid of disappointing my father. Already, he’s struggling with the whole poly thing and he hasn’t even met MasterDoc yet (and has no idea he’s much older than me). Imagine if I threw a girlfriend into the mix?
My mother was totally accepting of both my brother and I – though I don’t think she quite “gets” that poly is an ongoing thing and not just something you do until you settle down. Her family was far more liberal than my father’s ever was. (The aforementioned grandmother who I grew up with was dad’s mom.) And while my brother is gay and open-minded in some ways, he does identify still as Roman Catholic (says his Facebook page) and *shudder* republican. Being the way out left liberal that I am kinda makes me the black sheep of my immediate family. They’re largely used to and embracing of how “unique” I am, but there’s still some things best not discussed around family. I’m used to keeping parts of myself and my life secret from them.
So do I sabotage myself? It’s possible. Why don’t I ever EVER make a move on a woman I’m interested in? If a woman I like pursues me, then we’re fine, but as so many of us ladies do the lesbian sheep dance it leaves me in a position where I long for a woman in my life, but never quite get one. How can I work through this and get over my subconscious hang up?
MasterDoc and I adjourned to the bedroom. DeeDee had an important email to attend to, so she went off to handle that. MasterDoc selected the porn for a change – he does from time to time but he expects me and DeeDee to have porn selected from one of the various free porn sites ahead of time. He selected some German piss porn. Ack. It’s funny because the opening scene was innocuous enough. I joked that this is worse than porn with a storyline usually is – it was porn with a storyline in German! I had no idea what they were saying. So when the guy goes up to the woman behind the desk in the office, I was surprised (is dismayed a better word perhaps?) that he takes out his dick and starts pissing on her. She acted like it was just the hottest thing ever and I felt so grossed out. MasterDoc wants that to be me someday, but ack, I find piss play gross.
He had me use my nea to warm myself up, but whenever I looked at the porn (which included pissing in mouths – both him pissing in her mouth and the reverse) I felt distinctly turned off. He came over to sit next to me and sucked on a nipple a bit. I complained that the porn was turning me off. That I don’t get how anyone could find piss erotic. He said it has to do with the humiliation of it – but the woman in the video didn’t seem at all humiliated. She seemed happy. I ended up closing my eyes or looking away so I could become aroused as the nea buzzed on my clit.
I glanced over at the porn and saw the woman giving the guy a blow job. I watched tentatively, afraid that he would start pissing in her mouth. Indeed, he did. MasterDoc pointed out that that’s coming soon between us, and I got more squicked and anxious than usual – probably because I know his doing this to me is imminent. He suggested that I could welcome him home after his trip this week by having him piss in my mouth. (Yuck!) I’m truly freaked out by this. Yucky, yucky, yucky!
He fucked me from behind and I had the damndest time getting fully aroused as I kept having anxious thoughts about the piss play. I did manage to block it out and come at his command. The throe was in the laundry, so MasterDoc grabbed his nearby Science Fiction Museum t-shirt and put it under me as I started to squirt. It absorbed most of the squirting. He says now whenever he wears that t-shirt he will think of my pussy. I point out that this is appropriate as I bought it for him while I was in Seattle. “You should put that on the blog!” he said, “Now when people see a guy with a Science Fiction Museum t-shirt they’ll wonder, “Could that be MasterDoc?” (And as I write this, I wonder if Coy Pink will get a giggle as she was there with me when I bought that shirt.)
Next he selected porn that I like, something that we’ve watched but as usual I only saw a bit of it since I got distracted by orgasms. I loved the parts with her choking on cock. I keep hoping MasterDoc will do more of that with me. It seems lately that I want things rougher than he does, or rougher than he feels comfortable or turned on giving. I don’t know. I pressed up against him and watched the porn too. I was slid up a bit high on the bed to play with his ass, but I stroked his hair and his back. I started getting really worked up and I breathed heavily into his ear. While helping him come usually involves me being really hands on, this time I slid a hand between my legs and played with myself while rubbing my body against him and moaning in his ear. This worked – he came and shot a load all over the bed. I could have come at the same time, had he given permission, but he didn’t realize that until it was just slightly too late. We cuddled for a bit, and he went off looking for DeeDee. (She had been expected to join us, but her tummy was upset so she wasn’t in the mood.)
I lay in bed, still horny, still having gotten up to an orgasm but not completed it. I realized that I have two times per week when I can masturbate, and dammit, I decided to do that. I pulled on my nipples and slid a hand down to my cunt. I added some lube as too much friction is no fun (for me). I rubbed my clit furiously with my right hand, and then held the top of my labia apart with the other hand to get at the clit better. I teased myself a little bit, especially since I had a small hope MasterDoc would walk in on me. I made myself come, squirting a bit on the towel we had put down over my previous squirting. It was such a relief to come! I continued on a bit, then went to join DeeDee and MasterDoc in the living room.
A little later, I mentioned to MasterDoc what I did – and he said, “Wow, that’s hot! For that you get an extra round of masturbation this week while I’m gone.” Yipee!
The day after the events of the last entry, MasterDoc and I talked (and cuddled) at length and it became clear that he not only needs to be able to ensure I’m physically safe, he also needs to gauge my mental sense of safety. My feeling triggered was a bad place for me to be in while out at a club, and in the future if I get that way it’s probably best if strangers don’t touch me – only MasterDoc or DeeDee. I appreciate how he continuously tries to figure out how to best take care of me. We don’t expect perfection in each other, but we work together to each improve how well we take care of the other. I don’t think you can ask for a better sort of relationship than that.
I went out to a party with MasterDoc and DeeDee Saturday night. I wasn’t entirely in the mood to go out, but I figured I could get myself in the mood. I put on some music as I got ready (Culture Club! I’m a total child of the 80′s.) and I perked up. The host of the party was the same guy who lent MasterDoc his paddle recently and his parties have always been good. We got there, to a space we’ve never been to, and my first impression was that the crowd was some how “dodgy” compared even to the usual swing club crowd. There seemed to be a whiff of desperation in the air much greater than usual. This could have been merely my perception, it’s hard to tell, but it set me up for feeling uncomfortable and unsafe. I told MasterDoc my impression, and DeeDee mostly agreed with the impression. But we wandered around and I stuck with them.
Taking a break on a bed, DeeDee was raring to go and while MasterDoc kissed me on one side, he reached back with a hand and played with DeeDee’s pussy. She came pretty fast and it’s impressive how quickly she gets worked up these days. I wasn’t comfortable enough yet so I was glad to snuggle a bit. I took my top off, to reveal the top half of the lacy, meshy slip I had borrowed from DeeDee to wear but I left my sarong on the bottom half. DeeDee is a few inches shorter than me, so a slip that’s short on her is practically non-existent on me. I could scarcely pull it down enough to go over my ass. Most women weren’t dressed too scantily, and this made me feel even more self-conscious. MasterDoc had me suck his cock while DeeDee cuddled with him, and I enjoyed making him twitch with my mouth. He had us change places a few moments later, and he and I kissed and cuddled while DeeDee made him twitch. The bed was uncomfortable – it was pretty much a leather (or pleather more likely) flat couch and it sunk in the section I sat on.
We got up and looked around some more, we ran into the party host and he showed us around. There were many “voyeur” or “peeping Tom” windows to the rooms, where viewers could pull back a curtain from the outside and watch what was going on in the room. This suited our sensibilities. But the lighting was exceptionally low for the most part. We got drinks and a nibble to eat, and MasterDoc sat us down in a well-lit and well-traveled area. A couple who had asked about our big For Your Nymphomation bag of toys, came over and MasterDoc gave them a tour of the inside of our toychest. I could tell MasterDoc was flirting with the woman, and she was rather cute. The guy didn’t thrill me and I didn’t really want to end up doing anything with him, but I knew that to help MasterDoc along I was going to be expected to.
As MasterDoc finished the toychest tour and went back to eating, I found myself sitting between him and DeeDee. They had me take off my sarong, so I was barely clad in the slip. (It’s black, lace underwire cups, mesh body and wide lace trim at the bottom.) I felt really self conscious for some reason last night. I still didn’t feel comfortable with the people there. And to be exposed in such a heavily traveled and well-lit area made me feel anxious. (MasterDoc later told me that he chose that place because it would be easy to keep control over what was happening. Too bad it didn’t feel like that to me.) He put my leg over his, so that my legs were partly spread. DeeDee did the same with my other leg. I felt anxious and so I requested the blindfold out of the bag. Some onlookers commented on how we had everything in that bag, but by blocking my sight I was able to block the onlookers out to an extent. MasterDoc toyed with me, and I had a hard time getting into it, but I tried my best. I was able to relax enough to enjoy his toying with my body, and he made me come hard in front of all those people. I squirted a couple of times on the vinyl bench and I worried that it would seep under my raised thigh and soak MasterDoc’s pants. He made me come for a long period of time and I came close several times to begging him to let me rest.
We cleaned up the bench with baby wipes after I was done. My ass was kept damp by the slip having gotten wet at the back. Luckily it was mesh so it wasn’t too uncomfortable to walk around in, in that respect. A guy who had been nearby watching with two women followed us over to the food table and he complimented me on the show. He was clearly interested, and he didn’t seem too bad – i.e., he didn’t trigger my sense of feeling unsafe. Maybe I was relaxing a bit. I needed to sit down, and MasterDoc found me a chair in the hallway. The couple from earlier came over and they were clearly interested in playing. The guy started getting close to me, and I could tell MasterDoc saw him stroking my shoulders and then gradually moving to my breasts. I wasn’t thrilled with the guy, but I was still just aroused enough that I could close my eyes and enjoy the feeling (forgetting who was doing it). MasterDoc joined in caressing me. The five of us went off to a room, the guy in the couple seemed quite uncomfortable with having an audience. MasterDoc explained how much we enjoy an audience. We closed the door to the room, so that only the guys peering through the perv window could see us.
DeeDee and MasterDoc talked about how not only is it his skills that gets him women, but also he has found very responsive women. He had DeeDee lay down and he brought her to orgasm quickly as a demonstration. The guy was turned on and asked if he could eat her out and he did so for a bit. DeeDee came again. The guy kept playing with her pussy and stroking her thighs and she had to beg for a break. (MasterDoc had to remind him a few times to stop touching her so she could rest.) He then reached to play with my pussy. I wasn’t interested or particularly comfortable, but I knew that MasterDoc wanted me to go along with things (although I felt unclear on the extent). My pussy wasn’t really wet enough but the toy bag with the lube was out of reach. The guy sat on the arm of the sofa next to me, and opened his jeans His lady sucked his cock and I felt a sense of relief to just watch, but he groped me as well and I sort of silently put up with it.
This is sad isn’t it? I was totally not into it and it was a little like when I was raped – I felt the activity was inevitable and so I quietly acquiesced and reminded myself it would soon be over. I tolerated it rather than enjoying it. Positions shifted and soon MasterDoc was playing with the lady’s pussy while she bent over and sucked her guy’s cock. The guy tried to go down on me but couldn’t get in a good position, so he played with my somewhat dry clit instead. I thought his skills were pretty dreadful. He beckoned DeeDee over and wanted her to suck his cock, she told him she doesn’t do that. He kept caressing her and I alternately and I worried that MasterDoc wasn’t watching. He was more than likely was keeping on top of his Domly duties and making sure I wasn’t being harmed, but I was feeling so unsafe that night that if he wasn’t looking in the direction of what was happening to my body, I felt like he wasn’t watching. (When we spoke later he assured me that he was in control of the situation.) While all this was going on, assholes kept opening the door to the room and not going away when we motioned for them to leave. It added to my sense of being unsettled and unsafe and I felt like the crowd was rude and pushy. I also got the sense that they were extremely straight and extremely vanilla. The guy in the couple, being uncomfortable with the crowd, ended up leaving with the lady after exchanging phone numbers with MasterDoc.
After they left, we closed the door again and MasterDoc attended to me. He went down on me, and I just kept feeling so unsafe in that environment that I couldn’t let go and enjoy myself. He tried placing pressure on my inner pelvis, but it just came across as uncomfortable. When it was clear I couldn’t relax, he came up and talked to me. I explained that I was fearful of being assaulted (and I know this wasn’t particularly rational, but I had images of aggressive guys forcing themselves on me while MasterDoc got pushed to the other end of the room by the sea of bodies). I was so clearly freaked out that MasterDoc decided we should go home.
I needed to use the bathroom before we left, and DeeDee went with me since she knew the door didn’t lock. She stood outside, looking formidable and Dommely with my riding crop. This helped a great deal. Ultimately, I felt uncomfortable enough (and somehow triggered enough) that anyone I didn’t know touching me was likely to freak me out. I had tried conveying my level of freaked outness to MasterDoc but I’m not sure I managed to do it adequately. He was keeping control of the situation from his perspective, but I felt very much like things were out of control – particularly out of my control. Some days I just can’t feel ok about “You will fuck whoever I tell you to.” When I’m in the right mindset it can be hot to be his whore and used by others at his discretion, however in the wrong mindset it feels like assault. I felt withdrawn and unhappy well into Sunday.
This is going to be a long entry. Not only did I have hot, kinky sex I want to share with you, I also had some realizations that I’m excited about too. (Ultimately, I’ve decided to make my brains’ masturbation one entry, and the actual sex another.)
I had a wonderful time yesterday – and had some revelations on what polyamory is to me. MasterDoc is poly in the sense that he likes having multiple romantic relationships concurrently. I’m poly in the sense that I prefer having one main emotional, romantic relationship and lots of friends I hang out with and fuck. Neither way is wrong, they’re just two of the many ways a person can be polyamorous. I would certainly feel affection for and care about my fuck buddies, but it would be without the intensity of a full-time relationship. I need a way to get my insane sexual needs/desires met, but I’m not really looking for another relationship. I’ve been going about things all wrong. I’ve been looking on okcupid for a woman to date. I should be looking on craigslist for a woman to FUCK.
I think I hesitate to admit that sort of thing, because then I come across as a stereotypical bisexual woman. But fuck that, I may be a bit of a stereotype at times, but I should go for what I want. (And like most stereotypes, I’m not 100% of the stereotype anyway. I can fall in love with and have a relationship with a woman, but I’d much prefer a female friend who loves to fuck and hang out with me.) I worry that I make other bi women look bad by fitting the stereotype – but there are plenty of bisexual women who can have romantic, emotional relationships with women (monogamous ones even!) but I’m not one who wants that.
Kinda hard to admit what you want is what has been vilified. It’s really hard to know that the lesbians who won’t date bisexual women will look at me and say, “See! She’s why I won’t date bi women!” I am not, however, all bisexual women. I am just me.
Yesterday we had over a woman MasterDoc found on craigslist. Just reading her ad made me think she’s a kindred spirit – and meeting her cemented that. I found myself feeling so excited to meet her, but I didn’t want to show it because while here she told us about a woman who got too clingy and she had to stop seeing because that’s not what she wants. The thing is, I’m so excited about meeting her BECAUSE she doesn’t want a relationship with a woman. To have a partner in crime who is bisexual, horny, kinky and adventurous would be fabulous. She’s smart, has an offbeat sense of humor – definitely the kind of person I want to be friends with. I’m hoping she’d be up for the same, but I realize that I have to be laid back about it lest I come across as wanting more than I actually do. But I would just like to be able to call on her and say, “Hey I have a night alone, want to come over, hang out and fuck?” And if she’s free that night (she does have boyfriend, and I think that should come first just like my relationship with MasterDoc comes first for me) then she can come over, chill out and get freaky.
It was so exciting to have that epiphany. I hold back from dating others for many reasons despite feeling frustrated and like I need more sex and more companionship, and I’ve realized that one of them is that I don’t want another emotionally intense, romantic relationship. I want a fuck buddy, a friend with benefits. Time to re-evaluate my dating strategy.
My other grand epiphany has been developing over the past week or so. We’re all so mired in the “stories” that society tells us, that even progressive feminists can fall prey to the narratives we’re told – despite them not being true. I’m often intimidated by thin women. (And I started feeling that way with our guest – she’s quite slender.) I think that thinness is so beloved in our culture that why would someone who has that want me? But that’s bullshit. I like a lot of different people – and someone being smart, funny and sexually adventurous is FAR MORE important to me than them fitting a societal body ideal. And why the fuck can’t I accept that there are thin women who feel the same way? I have such terrible self-esteem most of the time, that it had never occurred to me before – I am one of those smart, kinky, adventurous, fun people I think are so fucking sexy. Why the hell wouldn’t other people find me sexy? Sure, no one is ever going to be attractive to everyone, but I don’t give myself enough credit for my good points.
At one point I was chatting with our new pal (I’m hoping she’ll come back, she was loads of fun) while MasterDoc played with DeeDee in the next room. And I told her about the realization I had recently through a thread on fetlife and talking to someone on twitter – misogyny and the hatred of women’s bodies is so widespread that thin women deal with tons of shit about their bodies too. In the feminist movement these days we focus a lot on fat positivity, but we often do it in a way that reacts negatively to our sisters who more closely fit the “perfect” body. I forget, however, that the “perfect” body is so fucking specific that even someone who seems to fit it more closely than me can suffer from worries that they’re not the “perfect” one. Sure thinness is desired, but so are big boobs – and plenty of thin women have smaller breasts. We want this “perfect” combination of ultra thin yet curvy – and that’s not a look most people’s bodies fall into naturally. Also, I lose sight of the fact that even if someone does fit this norm, it doesn’t mean they buy into it, it doesn’t mean they can’t like me. Sure, some people are body conscious and only want to fuck other “hot” people, but I can’t assume because a woman is hot that she won’t find me to be very sexy or she can’t struggle with her own sense of body-positivity. (I need to realize this about men too.)
I’ve been so fucked up by the pervasive culture we live in that I have lost sight of these things. And when I told our new pal this yesterday she enthusiastically agreed with me that thin women get all sorts of shit about their bodies too. Misogyny is an attack on women, and part of the attack strategy is to make chubby women think that thin women are the enemy. I’ve often rejected a thin, pretty woman before she had a chance to reject me – and stupidly have ruined chances with women I might have had a great time with. I have no concept of a hot woman wanting to fuck me, but Jesus, aren’t I selling myself short? I’m buying into the societal narrative too much myself.
We had such a wonderful adventure with our new friend yesterday (I keep hoping friend is the right word – it could turn out to be a one-off but I’m hoping it’s not) that it merits its own entry. Coming up next: the hot sex foursome.
Even the best relationships have rough patches and misunderstandings. Unfortunately Monday night led to me misunderstanding and getting really upset. Consequently, I spent most of Tuesday upset.
I spent the Monday holiday with MasterDoc, and after we went out to lunch he gave me a sybian ride. I squirted like a sprinkler all over the machine and the floor. Leading up to this, I had laid out nipple clamps, the Hitachi magic wand and my Gigi in the bedroom and gotten started without him. (Hey, I was horny!) He put the clamps on my nipples and led me into the living room where he had set up the sybian. He also grabbed the riding crop to swat my ass while he gave me the ride.
It is delicious how he teases me by varying the speed of the vibration. He tugged on the nipple clamps (one of which didn’t want to stay put) and spanked me with the crop. As I said before, when I came I squirted. I had to clean up the machine and the carpet afterward.
DeeDee was due home that evening, and he made it clear that I would not be the focus of our play that night, and I understood that. DeeDee hadn’t seen him since Friday morning. The three of us hung out watching t.v. for a bit after dinner, and I stumbled upon a Lady Gaga fest on Fuse. When MasterDoc decided it was time to head to the bedroom, I semi-seriously said, “But Gaga is on!” He said that’s fine, I can watch it. Seeing my chance at sex as slipping away, I said, “But this could go on for hours! I don’t have to watch it.” He pointed out that I should enjoy myself and watch for the next half hour or so, until whatever segment was over.
I was a bit inebriated that evening, and I started to wonder if he wanted time alone with DeeDee. In theory there’s nothing wrong with this, but since a threesome had been implied, I felt left out being left in the living room watching Gaga videos (amid many commercials). I somehow in my muddled mind started to think that I was being left out for the whole evening. I debated back and forth – would he really do that? Well as a good sub I should respect that and do my best to enjoy my evening in the living room. But I felt really left out and sad. I felt rejected. I felt like I was being punished for something.
I went to the bathroom at one point and he came to check on me. During our brief conversation I got the impression that he did want me to stay in the living room. But he also said something about coming in. I peeked in the bedroom after I left the loo and they were intensely close and I worried that I’d be barging in. I thought I had misinterpreted him. I went back to the living room.
I lay sadly on the sofa, watching t.v. and clutching the stuffed dog one of his other girlfriends had given him (who I’ve taken a liking to and named Brian after the dog on Family Guy). MasterDoc and DeeDee came out at one point and said they were going to set up the air conditioner in DeeDee’s room. Ok. It’s a good thing because the evening was hot, but I thought to myself (incorrectly), “Well that’s the end of that. No sex for me.”
After the a/c was in, MasterDoc sat on the sofa next to me and reached over to part my legs. He started playing with my cunt and I was confused – was he doing this because I seemed upset at the lack of attention? Was I taking attention away from DeeDee and being a selfish little bitch in a way? Should I enjoy what he was doing and orgasm? The night wasn’t supposed to be about me. I felt guilty for feeling so upset over being left out. He managed to wrench a hard orgasm out of me despite my terrible mindset. I was feeling bewildered.
Now, reading this you know that I had misunderstood. But at the time I didn’t know this, and I was really ruminating over it all. MasterDoc decided to have me join them, and I thought, “Oh hey, maybe I was wrong. Maybe I’ll be included now.” But then I went back to my original theory when it turned out I was invited in to teach DeeDee the touching technique I’ve learned that turns MasterDoc on. And so my inebriated brain thought, “Great, I’m just coming in to improve their sex life.”
I struggled all night to be a “good” submissive and accept things as they came. For a while I did get into touching MasterDoc and I was able to stop feeling depressed and truly enjoy myself. (It is amazing being able to make your Dom twitch from your touch.) I taught DeeDee some of the technique and MasterDoc was a very happy man having us both massage his inner thighs.
DeeDee headed off again (the reason why escapes me) and MasterDoc asked if I wanted to get fucked. I went for it since it had been nearly a week since I had his cock in me, but with all my neuroses hard at work I wasn’t sure I’d enjoy it. He could see I was distressed in some way, checked in with me, and I was worried that he’d go off to DeeDee’s room right after fucking me, leaving me alone without aftercare. He made it clear that I was supposed to enjoy myself and that I would get cuddles after. So I did let go and come hard when he fucked me, but my brain still was chugging along the wrong track.
He slept with DeeDee that night, which I knew about ahead of time. As I lay in bed trying to sleep (I had work in the morning) I could hear DeeDee coming even through the earplugs I wear to bed. This just fueled my distressed mind. I had a hard time falling asleep and was completely miserable.
I spent the next morning filled with angst. I laid into MasterDoc when I ran into him online during the day. Poor guy didn’t know what I was going on about. By this time my insecurity had been thoroughly tapped into and pain and sadness flowed from me. It was a hellish day at work.
But when I got back to MasterDoc’s that evening, he and I talked. I broke down and got a little hysterical after explaining to him that part of expressing myself to me is letting the emotions show (he always tries to get me to talk calmly, without raising my voice). He’s far more rational and thick-skinned than me, so my reactions put him off. I’m very emotional. I’ve worked for years on becoming more rational, and I’ve improved, but sometimes my emotions take over. I expressed how truly painful the incident on Sunday with my toys on the floor had been for me – I know it’s something he wouldn’t have a second thought about. He’s not bothered by things like that. But for me it triggers something deep.
I cried. I was angry. I was sad. I was unfortunately bitchy. I jabbed with words, which I’m unfortunately good at. The feeling that I really need more sex and need to see more people overwhelmed me. I’m not sure that was really the deep-seated issue at hand, but it’s something that came out. He is open to me playing with others, etc. Now I need to get off my ass and meet other potential partners. After the discussion was over, I was left feeling terrible because I had truly made him hurt. He’s not hyper-expressive like I am, but I could see in his eyes that I really hurt him.
I’ve been feeling bad about it since, although I know that you can’t take back words, but you can try to be different going forward. I’m going to focus more on complimenting him and less on criticizing. Really, in so many ways I’m over the moon with him. He really can make me happy. I should de-emphasize the negative and as Louis Armstrong sang, “Acc-cent-choo-ate the positive.” I plan to be with him for a very long time.
When I get an occasional email on Facebook saying what a lucky man MasterDoc is to have me, I think about these times when I’m overemotional, or depressed, and I think that I’m very much the lucky one.
A busy weekend precluded me from blogging about my Friday night spent with MasterDoc until now. Going out had been the plan originally, but neither of us was feeling up for it. DeeDee had dinner with us and we hung out on the sofa for a bit. MasterDoc merely reached over at one point, stroked her pussy (as best I could see) and she came pretty much instantly. Impressive.
While MasterDoc bathed, I worked on getting porn on his laptop. I had been remiss in finding a porn clip to have handy for the next time we fooled around and I was trying to fix that by finding something while he was in the bath. He called me in for some help, and I let him know what I was doing. He told me that I should find one usual porn, and one with Ron Jeremy in it. Why (on earth) Ron Jeremy you ask? MasterDoc has been told he looks like Ron Jeremy, particularly years ago when MasterDoc had a pornstache. I have resisted this comparison for the longest time. “Ew! No! You are not like Ron Jeremy!”
I think MasterDoc is far cuter than Ron Jeremy, but yes, they are both chubby Jewish guys with big cocks born in New York in the same year. Okay, okay. There’s some similarity, as much as I hate to admit it. Particularly in general build.
DeeDee and I watched for a bit until MasterDoc came in from his bath. I might have been able to see Ron as charismatic like MasterDoc if not for the fact that the women were sooooo faking it. Before it dawned on me that they were clearly faking, I did start to wonder if, perhaps like MasterDoc, Ron Jeremy is actually a good lay.
MasterDoc and I retired to the bedroom while DeeDee went to hers. (She had had numerous orgasms in the afternoon courtesy of a gentleman friend.) Of course my anxiety closet isn’t full enough, that night I started getting anxious over how quickly DeeDee came. I started to worry that I was somehow inferior and “more work” since it took me longer to warm up and come. MasterDoc reassured me, shared a story of DeeDee having anxiety over not being like me, and I did my best to relax and trust that it’s really not anything to get upset about. He loves us both just as we are.
We watched some kinky Japanese porn I had picked out and each warmed ourselves up. (I had been hoping for some foreplay. Luckily I was pretty horny anyway.) He fucked me from behind. First he teased me with his cock around the entrance to my cunt and I kept trying to push back onto it. When he slid his cock in I let out a gasp. He fucked and teased me for a long, long time. He knows to vary the pace so he keeps me on the edge of coming. He spanked my ass from time to time. I’m aching to come when he starts sounding worked up enough to actually come himself. (MasterDoc coming during intercourse is a very rare occurrence.) So I put off asking for my orgasm for a while longer, but also feeling that much more worked up knowing he might come while his cock is inside me. I was frenzied and working so hard to not come yet, to not beg for release.
And, hallelujah, after a little more time he began to come. And then told me to come. I came extra hard knowing that he was coming too. He kept fucking me as I came. After, I was exhausted but so very happy. When he and I can come at the same time it’s a special thing.
Thankfully, he didn’t make me lick the come out of the condom. But that’s one of those icky things I’m sure he will make me do someday.
I wrote the first draft of this on Saturday morning, when I was heavily in the midst of a post-traumatic stress disorder crisis. Sorry to say you don’t get any hot stories from the weekend as there pretty much weren’t any. This post is a bit meandering as it’s more about expressing my feelings than writing a well-written blog post.
Mental illness is something that you can’t just wish away. I’m as able to wish away bouts of post traumatic stress as much as I’m able to wish away a bout of diarrhea from ingesting dairy without lactaid. It’s frustrating. My rational brain can grasp the fact that I’m not in danger like I was during the trauma that gave me PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder). It can grasp the fact that MasterDoc takes care of me now, and the same scenario wouldn’t happen again as he would never let it. But the primal brain, the part that was traumatized, can’t be reasoned with and so I go into a bout of panic, anxiety and helplessness as if I’m re-living the the trauma all over again. And again. And again.
Various things can trigger a bout of PTSD and it’s not always (or even often) possible to determine ahead of time what might set me off. I read stories about sexual violence regularly in feminist blogs; I think it’s vital to discuss it and that silence will only perpetuate the problem. But sometimes something hits me just the wrong way, or just on the wrong day, and I find myself struggling with the same feelings I had right after the assault.
What set me off this time was a combination of things: reading comments on a post about outing sexual predators was the big thing. People were telling the survivors that they should always go to the police and that if they didn’t report the incident then they were somehow responsible for the sexual predator attacking the next person (and yet they shouldn’t publicly name and shame the person). This of course is utter bullshit as the only person responsible for the inappropriate behavior of the attacker is the attacker. But it struck me deeply as I agonized for a long time over pursuing legal repercussions after I was sexually assaulted 5 years ago. I worried about the women who could be affected in future by this asshole who was incapable of empathy or taking responsibility for his actions. I ultimately decided not to file a report because in talking to the NYPD I found out that unless they were sure they could convict they wouldn’t even prosecute. At the time people who were there that night were making all sorts of excuses for the guy who traumatized me. (He hosted fun sex parties, no one wanted to be uninvited. From what I hear he still hosts parties. Yes, New York sluts, you may in fact attend the parties of someone who committed sexual assault without remorse.) I felt like I would be completely alone in my accusations, and considering I was barely keeping my head together at that point I knew that pursuing legal action would only serve to damage me more. I also worried about harassment from his friends if I spoke up. (I did receive a little harassment just from speaking up within the circle.) Now, it’s past the statute of limitations (I can’t tell you the agony I went through that year the statute was going to be up. Do I report? Do I not?) but in the past two years a few people have come forward from that night to tell me that, indeed, what that guy did was wrong and they have felt terrible about what I went through. It’s comforting, but I wish they could have spoken up when I could have gone to the police.
As for the guy who did it, well he’s still a part of the sex blogger community. He’s on twitter. He’s on Fetlife. Part of my trigger was thinking about how many of my blogger friends believe his facade of “nice guy” and don’t realize what he did to me. I feel like the world should know, but in this society we protect the perpetrators of sex crimes. Had he hit me, or mugged me, I wouldn’t hesitate to name him. But since it was sexual and I know that being at a sex party when it happened would be enough for the slut shaming to begin, I don’t feel safe hollering his name from the rooftops. Oh privately I have told many, but publicly I’ve been mostly circumspect. I’m sure if anyone questioned him about the incident, he would deftly turn things around and make me look like the bad one. (Just as he did after the assault. Nice guy, huh?)
I’ve heard from someone else that they heard the story of that incident from him and his telling is completely different. In his mind, I was a woman who decided to try to “destroy him online.” I find this rich considering I didn’t name who did it or hint at who did it in the aftermath (for at least 2 years). I merely blogged about the hell I was going through and from this dickhead I got things like emails telling me to stop using him as “blog fodder.” Most readers of the blog I had at that time didn’t know who had done it, so I don’t see how he was persecuted by my trying to process my feelings. (He sure didn’t like the comments people left about what an asshole he was. But these people didn’t know he, specifically, was the asshole.) He refused to take any sort of responsibility for his behavior, and one or two people close to him made excuses (“He was drunk.”) or one even went so far as to call me crazy. I’m not crazy. And this man who did this to me is clearly incapable of empathy. I’m not the only person to observe him and come to the conclusion that he likely has some sort of personality disorder. So while a part of me wants to hear an apology (5 years later and one still hasn’t appeared) I don’t really expect to ever get one, because he is so focused on how this incident affected him. (Isn’t that simply amazing? He traumatized and assaulted me and he feels that he’s the wronged party.) I’ve seen him concoct huge, involved, false stories about people I know because he imagines that they are persecuting him in some way. I’ve heard about others who have spoken out about him who have been incessantly harassed by his minions. Intellectually I know this man will never feel remorse for what he did to me. And this is supremely frustrating because his actions can still affect me deeply 5 years later. When will it stop? I don’t know that the flashbacks will ever stop. I don’t know that the self-blaming will ever stop. I don’t know that my fears of him hurting other women will ever stop. A few years back a woman I was dating turned out to go to his parties. I felt panicked for her because I was afraid if he knew I knew her then he’d do something to her too. That incident was a total trigger for me. I went home and cried.
I’ve spent the past three and a half days trying to distract myself from the feeling of being re-traumatized. But it’s not something that can be simply ignored. I keep going through endless cycles of panic coming on, followed by extreme frustration that I could be happy and having hot sex right about now, but instead I’m feeling violated and fearful. When I’m triggered, I live the trauma all over again. Over the weekend I was psychically in the space where I was during/after the assault: scared, helpless, panicked, angry. I find myself questioning if going to a sex party makes it somehow okay for someone to put a speculum inside you without having negotiated it (or ANY play) with you beforehand. I find myself angry that I didn’t stop him before he put it in my cunt and jabbed me with it. (I had a tender spot inside my vagina for about a year after the event.) But at the time I firmly believed that if I said stop he would stop. He didn’t. And you can’t just jump up and run out of a room with an open speculum inside you. I had to rely on this asshole taking it out of me. With enough panic coursing through me I decided to end things there and then by drawing all attention to what was going on. And while I’m proud of the strength it took for me to do that, I was already traumatized at that point.
It’s been a long trip back from there to where I am now (on most days). It’s taken a long time for me to trust my dark fantasies to MasterDoc. I often fear that someone will use these fantasies against me, like how after the assault someone commented on my blog and cited my talking about using a speculum to see my cervix as an indication that I consented to this guy, who I had never played with before, to use one with me sexually. (Keep in mind any discussion of speculums on my blog were related to viewing my cervix and not at all sexual fantasy-related.) I find myself often afraid to admit to things especially without putting in the caveat that I want to do them “with MasterDoc.” He’s the only person I feel safe enough with to indulge the dark, kinky fantasies I’ve always had.
Simply talking about something does not equal consenting to doing it.
I’d name this asshole right here, right now and link to his blog, only I fear the harassment that would ensue. I’ve dealt with enough hell from this person. Right now about the only thing I can do is hope he dies a slow, painful death. And I hope that I can move past this anger that plunges me into depression whenever I’m triggered.
I write this for me. I write this because I feel better having gotten it out. Douchebag, this ultimately has nothing to do with you. If I wanted to persecute you I’d be going about it in an entirely different way.
This Lady Gaga song inspired me to write a bit of erotica for a change. The video has nothing to do with my fantasy, but I love it all the same for being totally campy and sexy at the same time.
This is some pretty kinky shit, but if you read here regularly you should realize the kinds of things that are talked about on this blog. And without further ado: “Show Me Your Teeth.”
_________________________
She had dared him to go further than before. The butterflies tickled her stomach as she wondered if she could handle what he was going to dish out.
She had shared some of her darkest fantasies with him – the ones where she’s tied up helpless, the ravishment fantasies, the ones where he does things to her she likes to think she doesn’t want. But at the same time becoming his slut entirely turns her on immensely and she hopes that her gentle teasing has gotten him worked up enough to really push her limits this time.
She had spent some time reassuring him that she was ready for this. She wanted him to reach down and find those dark places of his soul and utilize them so they could both fulfill the twisted fantasies that brought them together.
He put her collar around her neck, and while he usually wasn’t big on protocol, he ordered her to kneel before him, forehead touching the floor. She did as she was told and steeled herself for what she hoped would be a bumpy ride.
He placed his foot on her head, holding it down.
“Are you sure you’re ready slut?” he asked her.
“Yes, Sir,” she replied immediately. She could feel her cunt begin to get wet. He removed his foot from her head and had her sit up. He sat on the sofa across from her spot on the floor and looked into her eyes.
“You are going to do everything I tell you tonight without question. I am going to take you to a place of humiliation and submission that you’ve never been to before.” She took a deep breath at this. “Go get the behind the back restraints.”
She was thrilled he asked for those – she had always hoped they’d use them again. Just having them on made her hot. When she returned to the room with the restraints, he stood up and put them on her. He buckled the collar, then buckled each wrist into their respective cuffs. She straightened up, and in this position her full breasts stood out. He took a hunk of her hair in his hand and shook her head around a little. She closed her eyes in a bit of a swoon. While her eyes were closed, he raised his hand and slapped her across the face a few times, each time a little harder than the first. When she opened her eyes he looked at her intently.
“I’ll be back in a moment. I expect you to stand at attention for me right here, understand?”
“Yes, Sir.”
She could feel every inch of her skin thrum as she heard him go off into the bedroom where the toys were kept. She tried to figure out what he was getting by the noises, but she couldn’t be certain. There was a chain noise and otherwise the noises were indistinguishable.
He came up behind her and placed a blindfold over her eyes. Now she was helpless and unable to see. He started to pull something else over her face, and she soon realized it was the muzzle. Her helplessness increased with not being able to communicate easily. He tweaked a nipple and she practically gushed wetness knowing that she was at his mercy. A chain rattled. She tried to discern if it was a leash or not. As he started pulling at her nipples, making them stand out, she realized that the chain must be one that connects two nipple clamps. The question was, which ones?
He slowly released the clamp onto one nipple. As it continued to bite and bite she knew it must be the clover clamps. She took deep breaths through her nose to cope with the pain. Clover clamps weren’t something she’d grown accustomed to just yet.
“Take the pain for me slut,” he said as he tugged lightly on the clamp to make sure it was on securely. She whimpered and he stroked the side of her face. “Breathe deeply. That’s it.”
He went for the other nipple and soon the other clamp was biting into her flesh. On the one hand, she wondered if she could stand the pain, on the other, her cunt felt like it was on fire. He pulled a little on the chain and she whimpered loudly. She moved her hands instinctively but of course found them to be secured behind her back, where they couldn’t do her any good.
He helped her balance as she was lowered onto her knees on the floor. Her senses were flooded with the pain, and the feel of his hand on her shoulders, and the anticipation of what might come next. He removed the muzzle. “You’re not to speak unless spoken too, understand cunt?”
“Yes, Sir,” she replied.
She heard him unzip his pants and he took his semi-hard cock out and slapped her on the face a few times. “You’re my cock-sucking whore,” he said, “You’re my piss-drinking whore. You’re my ass-licking whore. Open your mouth.” He put his cock in and she hoped that he was too hard to piss in her mouth. Anyway, he wasn’t likely to do it in the living room where there would be a mess if she failed to catch every drop.
She sucked, having a hard time keeping his ever-hardening cock in her mouth without the use of her hands. He grabbed the back of her head, and pulled her face right into his crotch. She tried to breathe through her nose while he gagged her on his cock, but soon she was sputtering and dripping drool down her chest. “Again, whore,” he said as he pushed his cock into her mouth and straight to the back of her throat again. He fucked her mouth hard and drool ran down her chin. Snot started to flow out of her nose and she was sure her makeup would be moist and messed up under the blindfold. He choked her repeatedly on his large cock, and then pulled her head back by the hair and slapped her face a few times. She could feel her sense of will melting as she became nothing more than his whore. She wanted him to hurt her. She wanted him to use her.
He reached down and slowly removed the clover clamps. She cried out as they came off and the blood painfully rushed back into each nipple. He slapped her for making noise and put the muzzle back over her mouth. “Get up,” he said and he helped her to her feet as she couldn’t hold her balance with her arms behind her. He undid the restraints and she rolled her shoulders to ease the soreness in them. She could hear and feel a leash hook onto her collar and he led her, still blindfolded, into the bedroom. He had her kneel on the bed, head down, ass in the air. Without warm up, he caned her a few swift times. She cried out under her muzzle.
Next this cold and slick fingers were pushing into her ass, lubing her up. She could feel the cold steel butt plug as he stroked it teasingly around her asshole. He pushed, and it slid in, filling her up. With his other hand, he checked between her pussy lips. “You’re a wet little slut, aren’t you?” She could hear the wet noises as he slapped her pussy. He slid a finger inside and wiggled it around just a little bit. She moaned and pushed back onto his hand.
He laughed.
“Not yet slut.”
He removed the muzzle and the blindfold, and slid his finger, slick with her juices, into her mouth. She obediently sucked his finger clean. As he pulled away momentarily, her eyes blinked, adjusting to the light in the room. She could still feel the heavy steel plug in her ass. He told her to lay down on her stomach and rest for a moment. He gathered up more toys.
He lay down next to her on the bed and she pulled herself close to his chest. She wanted him so badly that she started to lick his chest and massage it with her fingers. He let her do this for a moment, and lay back to enjoy her attentions.
His cock was hard again when he had her stop and lay on her stomach. She felt the cold swipe of an alcohol wipe on each ass cheek. This could only mean one thing – needles. Her ass chilled as the alcohol evaporated from her skin. She listened to him unwrap a couple of needles. He grabbed one ass cheek and slid a needle into her flesh, the needle exiting out a short distance later. She took a deep breath and her body soon flooded with endorphins. He stuck her again, on the other side this time, and again she was flying high on her body’s own natural drug. She was blissfully in subspace. Her will had dropped completely, and she only wanted to do whatever he wanted her to do. He let her lie there and enjoy the rush for a few minutes. He knew, however, that this was the ideal time to really push her limits.
After removing each needle, he asked her if she was able to stand. “I think so, Sir,” she replied and unsteadily sat up on the bed. He looked into her eyes, leaned forward, and kissed her deeply.
“You’re a good girl. Now let’s see if you’re as obedient as I expect you to be tonight.”
He led her into the bathroom, and she knew this meant piss play. She always had such mixed feelings about piss play. On the one hand it was degrading and gross. On the other hand, she relished him putting her into that mental space. It wasn’t that she thought she was worthless, it was just that him making her feel dirty and under his control gave her such a high.
He had her kneel in the cold tub. Would he just pee on her, or would this be the time he finally followed through with his threat and peed in her mouth? He removed her collar, “just for practicality’s sake.” She knew that even without that symbol around her neck she was expected to obey.
“Are you my obedient slut?”
“Yes, Sir. I’m your obedient slut.”
He made sure to look into her eyes as he spoke. “I expect you to prove that now to me. This next part can be as easy or difficult as you make it. I expect you to try your hardest to please me.”
She could feel herself shake a little. This was it. This was when he followed through on the months of threats. God, would she be able to stand the taste of piss in her mouth? Would it totally freak her out? Thankfully the endorphins from earlier were still flowing and she felt a rush when faced with the challenge of doing that which she found totally repulsive. He stepped as close to the tub as he could, and took his mostly soft cock into his hand. He took hold of her hair with the other hand. “Open your mouth.”
She did as she was told, with only a slight hesitation. She closed her eyes tight, but he wasn’t having that. “Look at me, bitch!” She opened up her eyes and looked up at him, standing over her like some sort of powerful god. He wanted to see her eyes as he did this. He wanted to watch the struggle as it unfolded in her head and showed in her eyes.
With her mouth wide open, and eyes wide open as well, she felt the first hot drops of piss land on her tongue. A panic came over her, but she steadied herself and let it flow into her mouth. He relished the look in her eyes. It was a look of panic and disgust, but she held herself still as he pissed into her mouth. He felt powerful knowing that he could make her do this.
“Swallow as much as you can, cunt.”
She gagged as she swallowed but she kept coming back for more because more than anything else she wanted to please him. She wanted to show her devotion by letting him use her however he wanted. When she’d gag and cough a little he ended up pissing on her face and into her hair. A few tears escaped the corners of her eyes. He took hold of her hair more tightly and continued to let go a long stream of piss into her mouth.
“Hold it in your mouth a moment. Show me.”
She knew he meant the piss and, struggling against all sorts of forces within her, she held a pool of it in her mouth, revolted by the taste. He looked into her eyes.
“Now swallow cunt.” She did and collapsed in the tub, crying. To an outsider, she seemed broken and devastated. But she felt a certain freedom in having let go of her inhibitions so. He let her collapse, but he continued pissing onto her body. “You’re my filthy, piss-drinking slut. One of these days I’ll do this with a whole crowd of men to watch. Then I’ll have them piss all over you as well. You’ll reek of piss and they will be amazed at how much you’re my whore.” He finished pissing on her.
“Clean up,” he said as he left the room. She slowly gathered her wits. She felt emptied out inside, like all her worries no longer had a space within her. Somehow she felt baptized, new. She adjusted the water in the tub and began rinsing herself off. She took handfuls of water into her mouth and rinsed it out as best she could. She had to wash her hair as he had pissed there as well.
She dried off. She put her collar back on and went to find Sir. Her damp hair hung limply and clung to her face. She had forgotten temporarily about the plug in her ass.
She found him in the living room and she asked his permission to use the toilet. He didn’t grant it right away but made her sit on the floor at his feet. The fullness of her bladder added to her arousal in some strange way. Still, she was becoming desperate to use the bathroom.
He lifted her chin and she had a hard time looking at him. “You’re a good girl,” he said. She let out a deep breath and focused her eyes on him. “You can go use the bathroom now.”
She paused for a moment, wanting to ask if she could remove the plug from her ass, but then she remembered that she wasn’t to speak unless spoken to. Thankfully, he noticed the conflicted look on her face and he asked her what she was thinking.
“May I please remove the plug from my ass, Sir?”
He laughed a little. “I had forgotten it was in there. Yes, you may remove it. Now go use the bathroom and meet me in the bedroom after.”
He handed her the ball gag when she arrived. She put it on and he had her get on hands and knees on the bed again. He stroked his hard cock and put a condom on it.
He pulled her ass apart and could see the slick, shaved lips of her cunt. She was remarkably wet. He slid his cock into her and fucked her slowly. Her muffled moans turned him on more, and he felt a sense of ownership over her. She moaned and pushed her hips back to sink his cock as deeply as she could. His cock stayed completely rigid as he fucked her. Her moans became louder through the gag. She could come at any second, he only had to give the word. But he was enjoying teasing her and he pounded her cunt a little with his cock, listening to the desperation grow in her moans.
Finally, he thrust his cock as deep inside her as he could and told her to come. His entire body trembled and he could feel her cunt convulse around his cock. She made a remarkable amount of noise for someone who was gagged. As she came, he felt his own arousal peak and shot forth a wad of hot come. He groaned and twitched as her pussy continued milking his cock as she came. He felt his balls suddenly drenched as she squirted. He smiled.
As they both lay limp on the bed after, he put his mouth to hear ear and said, “I’m very proud of you cunt.” She glowed from within from his compliment.
Most of the people I’ve interacted with online since starting this blog have been wonderful. Up until the other day I had a chat widget on here that enabled me to chat with readers whenever I was logged into my Digsby aggregator. Every so often someone would say hello and it was pleasant to talk to people, answer sexuality questions and receive compliments. However, someone has ruined this for the rest of you now.
A blog reader (whose IP I have logged, I know you’re in New Jersey) has been going back and forth between my blog and Coy Pink’s for the past few days. He tries to talk to us via our pingbox/chat widget and if one doesn’t respond he quickly goes to the other. He is demanding in his tone and I got sick of his badgering me (not to mention inappropriate behavior when chatting with me) so I deleted the chat widget.
The chat started off friendly enough with some compliments. I always try to be gracious when someone contacts me because I really have no reason not to be. However, even when I said that I didn’t want to talk right then because I wanted to work on a blog entry, he kept messaging me a few more times because I still appeared online. By the time I made my excuses and finished the conversation (which I did mainly so I could blog in peace and quiet) he had stepped over a line by telling me that he was picturing fucking me from behind.
Seriously, this shit is creepy. I am a woman, a sexual assault/rape survivor and I live in a culture where rape is rampant. I don’t want some completely anonymous guy who I have no information about telling me what he “wants” to do to me. It’s nice to want, buddy, but seriously, I don’t want to hear it. However, being nice to people and going down the path of least resistance is my usual modus operandi so I simply got the conversation to end. Also, he started talking about wanting to play with me and how he’s into dominance. I made it clear that MasterDoc is the person to talk to since who I do bdsm play with is his choice.
Later that evening, he contacted me again. I had said I might be available to chat after a certain time so it was to be expected. Coy Pink and I had compared notes by this time (he mentioned that he had talked to her). This time, he started in right away trying to dominate me. It was nearing bedtime, so I had even less patience for that shit than usual. I told him straight out that I don’t appreciate someone who isn’t MasterDoc trying to tell me what to do. He apologized, but tried the same shit a short while later. I was tired and in no mood to talk, so the conversation ended. (But not until he had said that he was just seeing if we were on the same wavelength – yes this dude tried to frame his attempt at domming me as a “test.” I call bullshit.) However, Coy Pink saw him pop up on her site and try to talk to her. Apparently he spent a good amount of time going back and forth between her blog and mine. This stalker behavior is fucking creepy. And yes, it is stalker behavior. He sent me more instant messages apologizing for his behavior earlier.
I was away from my digsby for all of Friday, but as soon as I logged in on Saturday – yes, AS SOON AS I LOGGED IN – he messaged me. And he continued to message me every few minutes even though I didn’t respond. He had already messaged Coy Pink the second she logged on on Friday and Saturday. Coy has had more patience than I when it came to ignoring him or tersely replying to his messages. I have had no patience for it. I should not feel like I’m being stalked when I log in online. So I deleted my chat widget. Of course, today he messaged Coy – AS SOON AS SHE LOGGED IN – and asked why the widget was gone on my site.
It’s arguable that I should have told him to fuck off directly, but I’m a very non-confrontational person. However, creepy stalker guy from NJ? Fuck off. Do not contact me ever again. Ever. Your behavior is NOT acceptable and I want nothing to do with you. Also stop contacting Coy Pink. Take the hint, it is not okay to contact us.
Unfortunately, female sex bloggers sometimes have to deal with all sorts of creepy and douchey behavior from men. Dangerous Lilly had an incident on a dating site a last year. Other bloggers have dealt with all manner of assholery. I thought it might be useful to give men guidelines for contacting their favorite sex bloggers:
1. Be respectful. I am a human being and deserving of respect. My being sexually free does not mean you can accost me with sex talk. I am an educated, intelligent, professional woman. I am only a slut for MasterDoc.
2. You DO NOT KNOW ME. It may feel like that if you’ve read for a while, but only a tiny piece of my life and who I am appears on this blog.
3. I DO NOT KNOW YOU. I don’t have the advantage of reading a blog filled with your innermost thoughts and sexy adventures. I know absolutely nothing about you. Approaching me to see if I’d consider playing with you is not appropriate. Let me know who you are, let me get to know you, then approach the subject – this does not mean approaching the subject the same night or even same week you first contacted me.
4. If I turn you down, or if I ignore your messages, this is my right. I do not owe you a response. Do not keep contacting me multiple times a day. I do not owe you sex. I do not even owe you sexy talk when you want to wank. I’m glad that people enjoy my blog and the few pictures I put up, but I really don’t want to hear anything more explicit than, “Your stories/pictures are hot. Thank you for sharing them.”
5. Stalking my blog or any other blog is creepy and inappropriate. And likely to get your IP address turned over to the police.
6. I have plenty of friends, so don’t be surprised if I don’t make the effort to pursue a friendship with you. Even if you seem nice I probably don’t have the time or inclination right now.
If this sounds bitchy it’s because I feel the need to be firm and direct with the creepazoids of the internet. As I said earlier, most people I’ve heard from have been wonderful. People who are nice and respectful may have some hope of meeting and hanging out with me. People who go on about fucking me when I know nothing about them will get blocked. It’s not that I’m all that but being a sexually open woman does tend to attract people. Just because I write about my sex life in detail does not mean I will fuck anyone. Just because I’m slutty doesn’t mean I will meet you.
RT @Unchaste_Athene: Addendum: Also stop kissing people, because that is far more likely to give you HSV-1. 14 hrs ago
RT @Unchaste_Athene: Dear potential lovers:Unless you have a recent test saying you are HSV1-free, you have no right to be paranoid about me 14 hrs ago
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