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.
Archive for the 'assault' Category
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.
I’ve had a busy week, alas I don’t have a lot of stories to share but MasterDoc and I had good sex and a caning on Wednesday night. (Again I had to reflect on how some pain pushes me harder into orgasm, but some pain, this time his fingernails digging into my ass, can push me away from orgasm.) Since I won’t be seeing him too often this month it was kinda like a little sending off I suppose. Still, I’m sure it will turn out that I will see him a good amount – after all I should still see him one or two nights a week – not bad! Yesterday he took me to get a gastroscopy done. I was nervous, as I tend to be with any procedure, but I have to say that propofol is the shit. Yes, that’s the drug Michael Jackson took that ultimately led to his demise, but he combined it with a bunch other stuff. I went into this procedure with an entirely empty stomach and no medications since the evening before. Propofol knocked me out nearly instantaneously. (I watched the anesthesiologist inject it into the line in my arm and then all went hazy seconds later.) I felt like I was still just falling asleep as I became aware of MasterDoc standing next to me – and the mouth guard, IV line, blood pressure cuff and oxygen tubing that had just been on me seemingly a second ago, were gone. I have absolutely no recollection of the procedure. Nice! (No wonder they call propofol “milk of amnesia.”) I go back to the gastroenterologist in a couple of weeks to hear about the bits that were taken from my esophagus for further testing. But overall the whole thing went well.
I’ve kept mostly private about issues I’ve had with Davey, and I don’t want to go into details here (sorry, some things I do keep to myself) but we had a breakthrough in our sexual issues on Tuesday night. (No small thanks due to MasterDoc.) I’m feeling better about things than I have in months (the only real issues we’ve had have all been sexual or related to the sexual issues) and hopefully things will get better now. I may write in more detail at a later date, but for now I’d like to keep quiet about it.
With MasterDoc gone, I hope to explore here some fantasies of mine – and share them with you of course. Ever since Floating World my mind has been filled with dirty, kinky fantasies and I need to get them out of me. I think I might somewhat be in subfrenzy, lusting after all sort of kinkiness – desperate to make all my fantasies come true. This month would be a good time to calm down and reflect. Luckily, I’m already with MasterDoc, and he wouldn’t let me go overboard in exploring my fantasies.
Soon, I will write and post a review on Staci Haines’ Healing Sex, a book which I’m finding very enlightening. It’s taking me into my sexuality in a new way, and despite the focus being healing from sexual trauma, I find myself looking at other issues I’ve had since before being raped at age 25 and sexually assaulted at 32 – issues with speaking up about what I want, not saying no when I’d really like to, and other things. It should produce a thoughtful post in the near future. I also have another dyke porn dvd to review – rowr. How I’ve held off watching it this long is beyond me.
So stay tuned, more of the dirty, sexual talk you’ve come to love and expect from me will ensue. For now, enjoy your Labor Day weekend and make some stories of your own!
I’m feeling much, much better today. After my post yesterday I talked to MasterDoc. It wasn’t easy for me to open up, but I am so very glad I did. I cried, he held me and listened. He promised me that he would never let anything like that happen to me again. And I know that having his protection has made a huge difference in my being able to swing again. Even when I get to go to a party without my collar, and choose my own partners, it really helps to have MasterDoc there because I know he watches out for me. (And it’s sad to say, but he does a better job looking out for me than I do.)
I am still bewildered to get an apology from someone who was there that night. I never expected such a thing to happen. I suffered so much pain the past four years thinking that no one from that night would ever say to me, “What happened to you was wrong,” that they would never express support. If there are others out there who feel the same way, I hope that they come across me again and don’t hesitate to tell me. It does make a difference knowing that that vile dickhead who assaulted me is not supported by everyone. (These days it looks like he’s supported by fewer and fewer people all the time. Huzzah.)
I like the word survivor for someone who’s come through sexual assault/abuse/rape. It is how I see myself, I am not a victim, I am someone who survived something I never should have gone through. But I am a happy, smart, sexy woman with a lot to bring to this world. While I get the feeling of being alone, in reality I am supported by such a huge circle of people. I am lucky. I will prevail.
I’m afraid this isn’t going to be an erotic post. I’ve been feeling triggered the past couple of days and so I’m not in a good mind-space right now. When I say triggered, it’s in reference to the sexual assault that happened to me four years ago. Sometimes I can talk to friends about it and be fine, but sometimes it triggers all sorts of horrible feelings. (If you want details, you can search for the category “assault” on this blog.)
So these feelings have been lingering – fear, anxiety, depression, feeling unsafe, feeling unsettled. I feel like I want to talk about it with someone, but I get so paralyzed with fear that I won’t be listened to again, that I won’t get my feelings validated. So I’ve spent today feeling paralyzed and introverted with depression. It’s not rational, but it’s overwhelming.
However, it’s not all been bad. Last night, MasterDoc decided that in my current state, since it was on my mind anyway, it was the appropriate time to show me an email that was sent via him, for me, about a month ago. Someone on fetlife discovered my profile, enjoyed my blog, but had a nagging feeling he had met me. Digging back in my blog it came to him – he was there the night I was assaulted.
He went through MasterDoc because he didn’t want to contact me out of the blue, didn’t want to be triggering, didn’t want to upset me. But he really, really wanted to be able to say – I’m sorry. He wanted to apologize for not speaking up, for not realizing that things were indeed as bad as they were. It was his first sex party you see, and so when others there defended the issue saying everything was merely a “misunderstanding” he uncomfortably accepted that. He didn’t know any better.
In the midst of my current angst, I have had waves of blessed relief. Relief that someone there has finally said that what happened to me was wrong, and that they are sorry it happened. Relief that my feelings have been validated. It’s something I didn’t really ever expect to happen. First, last summer my friend from that period wrote to apologize for not speaking up more, and now this. Amazing. Validation is so important.
I don’t want to downplay the support and love I received during that period of time from my boyfriend Davey, my friend Christopher, and various other friends who weren’t there that night either. But I had to sever all ties with anyone I knew from those parties because no one would say what happened was wrong. (The aforementioned female friend did think it was wrong, but she wasn’t prepared to get into a whole shit storm with the guy who assaulted me. I have to say that it takes just a simple apology for me to forgive people who were there. It’s not an easy situation to be in, you don’t want to believe that you just witnessed something that will change a person’s life forever. They’re human. While I felt very alone during that period, I can understand that it’s not easy to speak up about. People make mistakes. Apologies do a lot to heal.)
So while this letter was welcome and very healing in many ways, I’m still feeling triggered today anyway. It can take a while to get past it. I went out last night with MasterDoc and our friend S., and I just felt really unsafe and clingy towards MasterDoc. I couldn’t enjoy myself as much as I wanted to. I was really afraid of getting sexually involved with a man I didn’t know.I did manage to let MasterDoc know that I really needed to be taken care of.
Hopefully after writing this and getting my thoughts organized I’ll be able to talk with MasterDoc about this.
I didn’t have plans to do this, but I’ve seen some of my favorite bloggers post year end summaries for the past year and I decided to spend some time today reading through my entries to take a look at the year that was 2008. (I spent hours today re-reading my entries from this year. Damn, I write a lot!)
I started off the year having a great sex, albeit with the hindrance of prozac killing my libido and response. I didn’t consider myself a masochist at the start of the year, but in early February I changed that identification of myself. On the other hand, I started off the year bruising quite nicely, but now I barely bruise on my ass. I was also struggling with coming on command – not quite able to hold myself at a peak of arousal and not always able to come when permission was granted. Davey watched me get Dommed by MasterDoc and MasterDoc made me eat out of a bowl on the floor like a dog. MasterDoc and I continued doing shows for strangers.
In February I fucked a black guy for the first time in my life, and the entry was titled (at MasterDoc’s insistence) “BBC and Me.” My dose of prozac was lowered, which helped my libido and ability to come, but not by much (didn’t help my depression). MasterDoc decided we were going to lose weight together and we embarked on exercising and eating better. S. and I gave Davey a surprise threesome for his birthday.
In March I spent a lot of time reflecting on submission, what it means to me and why I do it. It’s been good to re-read those entries. I also waxed poetic about being face slapped. I suffered a bout of depression and clearly the lowered dose of prozac wasn’t adequate. It was also nearing the anniversary of the time I was sexually assaulted at a play party, and I still dwelled quite a bit on that.
In April I started off the month reflecting on why I enjoy public sex. Davey, MasterDoc and I attempted double penetration but were unsuccessful (this is still true). I participated in sugasm for the first time. I wrote a bit about feminism and submission. We used a female condom for sex one time. I masturbated without permission and felt horribly guilty about it and confessed right away. At some point along the way I fell in love with MasterDoc. I had a challenging evening when we had a woman guest and I felt superfluous to the whole situation.
In May I proclaimed my average-ness. I started lusting after Photoshop and Dreamweaver to make my own site (I was still on blogspot at the time). And MasterDoc’s Puppy came for a visit. I had the first hint that maybe I could come without genital stimulation at some point. I purchased this domain and started trying to figure out how to get a blog up and running. I ended up going with wordpress, which I got installed for me.
My ass actually blistered a little bit after a spanking in June during one of our shows. I got called a pillow princess and reflected on my selfishness in bed, resolving to be less selfish. I discussed being assaulted three years ago at a play party and worked some more on dealing with the residual trauma from that. The swing club we frequent added a spanking bench, much to my and MasterDoc’s joy. I got swatted with a cane for the first time. I got good enough at riding the edge of orgasm that I could come when given the command (with genital stimulation).
I officially moved to kinkylibrarian.net at the start of July. (Looks like a few entries didn’t carry over when I made the switch. The old blog is still up, however.) I started talking about an interest in edge play like needle play and cutting. D.S. came for a visit and we had a very hot simultaneous orgasm. I contemplated many things like leading a double life, masochism and submission. I finally came without genital stimulation – and squirted too! I was on wellbutrin (in addition to prozac) for a little while by this time, and my sex drive had fully returned. I talked a little about early D/s experiences. I despaired over being denied orgasm, but was thrilled to have MasterDoc come in my mouth for the first time. MasterDoc and I had been seeing each other for a year by the end of this month.
In August I started participating in Half Nekkid Thursday, which I’ve done sporadically since. I struggled a bit with being a submissive and really opening myself up to someone – including giving MasterDoc my passwords to a few sites. We went to a hot (HOT) pool party. I started blogging over at Best Sex Bloggers. I spoke out about STIs and education. I had a very hot round of anal sex with MasterDoc, where I asked for more lube but then came really hard when he fucked me without adding lube. I enjoyed a moment of schadenfreude when I got to watch the online downfall of the guy who assaulted me (Jefferson). I don’t think I’ve blogged about the assault since – the experience of seeing him called on his bullshit by so many people really helped me heal a great deal.
September started out with me adding Babeland as an affiliate. (Still hasn’t netted me any money, but I still feel good about promoting that business.) I made the list of Top 100 Sex Bloggers. I also started reviewing toys, first for Lelo then for Babeland. Davey and I had a foursome while on vacation. MasterDoc and I gave an impromptu show one afternoon, then saw a couple in the evening. It dawned on me that our little shows technically make me a sex worker. I saw D.S. for one last time before he moved to San Francisco. I added Vibe Review as an affiliate at the end of the month.
In October, I put a toy into MasterDoc’s ass for the first time. I also wrote the terrific line, “I was a horny mass of sluttiness at that point.” I continued to try to get my head around the idea of him pissing on me. I wrote a little about dealing with depression while being submissive and how a beating can really make me feel better. MasterDoc made me come by slapping my clit. I talked about my early sexual and bdsm experiences. I had a bout of depression and cried during a scene – really cried – for the first time.
By November I could come at MasterDoc’s command quite well. I got philosophical about how change is an integral part of life. I came and squirted from being spanked at a swing club and later that night got fucked up the ass in public for the second time. One evening I became so turned on that I couldn’t turn off – and that ended up being the night that MasterDoc peed on me for the first time. I was so turned on and so deep into submission that I came as he peed on my clit. I went to the NYC Sex Blogger Calendar party and met a bunch of fellow bloggers. I also participated in Pleasurists for the first time. I come some more from pain and come again without being touched at all.
I started off December feeling cross with MasterDoc, but things were soon resolved and I wrote a post about how wonderful he is. He had a Domme-in-training come by for lessons and she fucked me with a strap on. The next night, a Dom came over with his three submissives and we had a fun bdsm orgy of sorts. I fisted a woman for the first time. MasterDoc figured out that he could use my new anal beads as a whip. Yikes. I fell ill with a stomach virus and actually turned down sex one day. But we used that time to go over my bdsm checklist and see what limits could be pushed in the future that perhaps we’ve been neglecting. We finished off the year going to a gangbang party last weekend.
All-in-all it’s been a hot year and I’ve come a long way with coming on command. I enjoyed reviewing my year via my blog but jeez, I really was at it for several hours. Thank you all for reading and I hope to have more adventures in 2009.
I write here often about having really hot sex with MasterDoc. After all, people want to read about really hot sex. But I think it might help things be in perspective if I finally sat down and told you about sex we had last weekend. I wasn’t feeling especially horny and MasterDoc wasn’t in the mood to give foreplay. So I went into it not feeling worked up or aroused. He had me lube myself up and play with myself, but still I wasn’t feeling all that hot. He asked if I was ready to be fucked, and since I was adequately lubed I said yes. He fucked me, and it felt good but it didn’t get me close to orgasm. After he did that, he lay beside me, stroking his cock while he told me to play with myself. I got aroused but it was still at a low level. He told me to get to the point where I can come, and I was kinda sorta there (but not quite). So when he came, squirting on my hip, and gave me permission to come, I didn’t. Pfft. So yes, MasterDoc and I are quite capable of having so-so sex.
But thankfully that’s not the norm.
I spent Friday at MasterDoc’s and he worked on finding a couple to play with for the night. It seemed like we had a couple lined up when they canceled. I was glad because I was feeling like I wanted to be alone with him. You know how sometimes you just want alone time with someone? I also felt a little triggered, and I didn’t feel okay about the idea of having sex with a complete stranger, which is funny because all too often I think that’s really hot. But I think what triggered me was the mention of us splitting up into separate rooms. It triggered a fear in me related to having been assaulted and raped and I flipped out at one point – this was even after the couple had canceled. I feared what could happen if I was alone with some guy I know nothing about, after all I’ve had experiences when men didn’t stop when I told them to. I spent a little time crying, spent some time cuddling with MasterDoc. I hate that this comes up for me sometimes, but I can’t really know when it’s going to happen.
Thankfully the evening got better. I got the evening alone with MasterDoc like I was hoping for, and we fucked for a while. I got very, very close to orgasm, but he didn’t let me come while he was fucking me. We lay next to each other after, me a little bit further down on the bed so he could watch porn on the laptop. He had me get the Nea and play with myself. I was horny but as he was watching the porn I wasn’t as engaged in it as I would have been if he had been interacting with me. I told him this and he says, “You don’t think I know that?” He starts talking dirty to me, asking me if I’m ready to come. The sound of his voice gets me hot and soon I’m at the point where I could come. At this point I was laying down near his cock as I had sucked it for a while. He keeps talking to me, making me feel like a dirty girl, and I respond by breathing more quickly and yearning for orgasm. He keeps stroking his cock and as he gets to the point of coming, he tells me to come. This time I come as soon as he gives me permission and I even squirt on the bed as I do so. He comes all over my shoulder and we orgasm simultaneously. Things were back to normal.
There are plenty of things in this society that infuriate me, but the one on my mind today is the fact that in the case of a rape or assault the benefit of the doubt is inevitably given to the perpetrator. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve encountered people not wanting to get involved, not wanting to condemn what is illegal, not to mention damaging behavior. When a woman actually has the strength to speak out she finds apathy and an unwillingness to acknowledge her experience staring back at her. I truly believe we live in a society that condones sexual violence against women. (I won’t get into how awful it is that men don’t even feel like they can admit to having been raped or assaulted, as a woman I speak from a woman’s experience.) The burden of proof is put on the woman to prove what has happened to her, and even when people have been around when it happens they STILL aren’t willing to speak up for what’s right.
It’s no mystery to me why so many women do not report rapes and assaults. When you get people just sticking their head in the sand you start to reevaluate your decision to speak up. Sure, what happened to you was wrong, but does it matter knowing that if no one else will acknowledge that it even happened? The benefit of the doubt goes to the perpetrator – so the victim gets to experience both being victimized and being ignored. And that infuriates me. It’s easy to get away with a sexual assault. Not so easy to get over having been assaulted.
Comments