Archive for the 'musings' Category

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Brimstone Reflections, Part II

Published on November 29, 2011 in bdsm, Brimstone, consent, D/s, humiliation play, kink, musings, random thoughts, sexuality, submissive and Uncategorized. 0 Comments

We had some hot sex and scenes while away for the weekend. He used the clover clamps on my nipples two days in a row – something my nipples don’t usually have to deal with! Friday night we fooled around in our hotel room. We had spent time reconnecting and talking about my frustrations.

As he made me aroused while the clamps bit into my nipples Friday night, he said slyly, “You like the pain, don’t you?” It was a rhetorical question but one that made me feel a little embarrassed by my kink but also one that turned me on since it’s clear I’m such a dirty girl.

The following night we played in the dungeon. MasterDoc bought a new candle for wax play, one designed for that use. (It doesn’t burn as hot as regular candles.) I lay on a massage table and he teased me, aroused me, hurt me and made me come so hard. I wonder how many people looked over when I was making so much noise during orgasm. MasterDoc had originally planned to, I think, show off by having both DeeDee and I in a scene with him. Since I was having so much stress, he kept the play to just himself and me. I appreciate that he recognized that I needed special attention.

The classes at the event were interesting. We missed a few here and there and I think flexibility is needed at these events. If there’s something you really want to get to, make the time for it. But otherwise be willing to go get lunch instead of attending another class if that’s what comes up. We went to some together, and some apart.

I’ve gotten curious about such forms of play as age play and puppy play, so I went to some classes on them. I was definitely one of those people freaked out by age play when I first heard of it. The idea of someone playing the role of a young person in a sexual situation brings up thoughts of incest (ick) and pedophilia (ick), but age play is NOT either of those. It is consenting adults role playing. Over time, I’ve come to see that playing non-sexually as a young girl could be very freeing for me. Being a child and handing over your well-being to a grown up is pretty much on par with being a Dominant and submissive. Age play seems like it could be very nurturing, and would give grown up me a break from making decisions and taking care of myself. Also, considering I’m a grown woman who still sleeps with her teddy bear and blanky, I’d be a natural for this.

Only this weekend did I start to consider age play where I’d be in the role of a teen girl. As I reflected on this, I realized that as a teenager I was incredibly horny! I would masturbate more than once a day. I was eager to learn about the entire spectrum of sexuality. Emotionally at that time I wasn’t ready for a relationship or sex. But going back, playing the horny yet innocent teen discovering sex at the hands of a grown man (while I’m actually an experienced adult) could be very hot play indeed.

Puppy play is a little different, but again I was struck by how it’s just another form of Dominance and submission. There can be a dehumanizing aspect to puppy play, but it’s one of those rare times when being dehumanized isn’t necessarily bad. If you get into the role of puppy, you can stop (for a while) thinking about adult human stuff. You can just be a playful, affectionate creature without human concerns. You hand over your well being to a trainer or owner. Please note that these things are play – they are temporary. Engaging in puppy play doesn’t mean you live your entire life like a dog. You’re human.

We did a tiny bit of puppy play there. A room was set up for pony/puppy/kitty/littles play. I crawled around, got into the doghouse there and wrestled with the squeaky toy MasterDoc played fetch with. It was fun. In the class I attended (taught by the excellent Lochai), I realized that the puppy can be such an endearing character, one who brings up feelings of affection for the owner. It can be carefree play. And who doesn’t like a gentle scritch behind the ear? Hm?

We somehow accept getting shitfaced on alcohol as an appropriate way for an adult to escape their responsibilities and worries for a little while. Why would something far healthier like role play not be ok as an alternative?

Brimstone Reflections, Part I

Published on November 28, 2011 in anxiety, bdsm, Brimstone, D/s, DeeDee, masochism, musings and Uncategorized. 1 Comment

We went away to a kink event called Brimstone this weekend. I had a fabulous time. DeeDee went with her boyfriend, and I went with MasterDoc (the four of us drove down together).

Unfortunately I started off the weekend feeling neglected. MasterDoc had been busy for about four nights in a row, and it just coincided with me being a bit depressed. I was very difficult with him on Friday. But we talked and worked it out, as we always do. This weekend someone left a comment on one of my slightly older posts criticizing my being with MasterDoc. I approved the comment, this person is entitled to their opinion, but I think they don’t really see the fullness of my life with MasterDoc. (And, incidentally, while that’s his scene name he does not see himself as a Master and he’s definitely not looking for a slave. We both happily identify as Dom or sub, respectively.)

It begs the question, how full of a story does a sex blog tell? I use this like a diary sometimes, to sort out thoughts and feelings by writing about them. I vent when things are frustrating. There’s many, many mundane moments of our lives not caught here, as well as tender moments. I think it’s impossible for someone to know what my relationship is like just from reading the blog. Like any couple, we have ups and downs, but unlike many “vanilla” couples we talk, talk, talk and look for solutions. We both own when it’s our own mishegas causing the problem. We both work on becoming better partners to each other, and over time we have.

I think it’s funny when people are frustrated with their partner in a vanilla relationship it’s seen as part of having a relationship. But when a kinkster (particularly one on the bottom side of the dynamic) complains then it’s assumed they’re being abused. Being at this event this weekend brought home the fact that the reality of bdsm is so very different than the fantasy. And people who are experienced kinksters know this. I also noticed that kink is a very wide playing field, and what one person does and enjoys is not what the next person does and enjoys. Perhaps part of the problem with DeeDee’s family’s concerns is that they have read about the play I do with MasterDoc here and assume that it’s exactly what he and DeeDee to together. It’s not. I’m telling my story. I’m not telling hers. She may have a role in it, but I don’t presume to represent her. I’m quite a bit more fond of pain than DeeDee is, and of course MasterDoc’s play with her differs in this respect.

There’s also the problem with terms in bdsm having different meanings than terms outside of the community. When I say I got a beating, I do not mean that MasterDoc came at me in anger pummeling me with his fists. This has never happened and never will. It means he uses implements he has used in the past and has great control over. It means he watches my reactions carefully and keeps the beating at a level I can process. The end result is not trauma, but a fabulous release of endorphins. I’m not scared of MasterDoc ever being truly violent with me. He never hits in anger. He has fantastic self-control emotionally, which is perfect for someone who wants to dominate.

Bullshit, Part I

Published on November 21, 2011 in anger, bdsm, consent, D/s, DeeDee, happy, kink, mental illness, mother, musings, sexuality, stupid people, trust, Uncategorized and venting. 3 Comments

It has been quite a week here. I’ve been sick, DeeDee had family issues and I dealt with premenstrual dysphoric disorder early in the week. I hope next week is far better.

I’ve been left contemplating how consenting adults can have their choices questioned (part I) but on the other hand people who violate withdrawn consent can go around denying it for years (part II).

Some members of DeeDee’s family have decided that she can’t possibly have chosen to be in a bdsm relationship. They think she must be abused. They’ve found my blog and point to my own history with depression (and the one time I was hospitalized for such 23 years ago when I was a teenager). People into bdsm are as varied as any other group of people. Some are mentally well, some have mental illness, some are awesome people who stick strictly to the notion that consent matters, and unfortunately, a few are predatory. People into bdsm generally like things more intense than others. Are people who like to burn their mouths on hot, spicy food sick people? How is this different? I like extra spice with my sexuality. I like the feelings of bliss released when controlled pain is applied to my body in a consensual situation. While I suffer from a mental illness, that is not what causes me to love playing with power differential sexually. I’ve had kinky fantasies since childhood, and while my family is your garden-variety dysfunctional American family, I was not abused at all in childhood. No one beat me, no one did inappropriate sexual things to me (or, indeed, any sexual things to me). I was treated lovingly for the most part and, as an only child for the first 11 years, I was pretty much spoiled. (On one side of the family, I was the only grandchild for 9 years. Oh yeah. Spoiled.) Being turned on by thoughts of bondage and helplessness just occurred naturally. (And, I might add, long before I was raped or sexually assaulted. Rape and sexual assault, sadly, are more common in this world than bdsm.)

The infantilization of those with mental illness would be humorous if it wasn’t so damn offensive. I would like to think that while I certainly talk about a lot of intense kinky sex here, I also very clearly convey the loving relationship I have with MasterDoc. He doesn’t take advantage of my mental illness. If anything he has mentored me in adopting better coping mechanisms. I don’t blow up in emotional outbursts as often as I used to. I’m far better at asking for what I need emotionally rather than stewing and expecting others to read my mind. Bad methods of coping I learned from my mother have been slowly unlearned with MasterDoc’s patient teaching. I suffer far less distress than I used to because I can handle things more rationally.

But, you see, I would bet DeeDee’s family will think he made me write that, or something. Determining that my agency has been taken away from me without so much as talking to me is also damn offensive. While I like the security of considering myself owned by MasterDoc, the truth is owning people is illegal in the United States. I am a free woman. I have a career. I can pay my own bills. No one is manipulating me to be MasterDoc’s submissive. I have the means to leave if I wanted. But I don’t want to – not because anyone has worn me down or some shit, but because I have a tremendous amount of loving support from my chosen family. My current household is so delightfully stable and placid compared to that of my parents’ house. (While ultimately loving, my Mother had a tendency to shout and have emotional outbursts. Thankfully my Dad was stable.)

I think it might actually disappoint some people just how normal and dare I say, equitable, our relationship can be. I can disagree with him. We will discuss things we disagree on. MasterDoc likes having intelligent women as submissives because he’s not looking to control someone 24/7 (not to mention the conversation is far better). He wants us to think for ourselves. He wants the best for us. He’s still good friends with his former submissives. Hardly sounds like they fled from him, huh? He walked one down the aisle as her bridal attendant and she counts him as her best friend.

But I could talk about that ad nauseum and still not convince people. That’s okay. I know I’m in a happy and stable relationship. I know MasterDoc has not ever laid a finger on me in anger, and never will.

Service – Knowing His Body

Published on October 26, 2011 in D/s, dom, musings, submissive and Uncategorized. 0 Comments

One of the many perks of being a dominant with a submissive is sorely overlooked. Sure, the sex when you want it and done to your specifications is awesome. Getting your housework done rocks too. But I think some dominants probably overlook the realm of physical care of the dominant.

MasterDoc has been encouraging me to write about how, in service to him, I have come to learn his body really well. I’ve surely mentioned it in regards to things like blow jobs, but there’s many other ways it comes in handy. He is thrilled that I’ve gotten really good at massaging his back. Two points that bother him a lot are his lower back and right shoulder. He’s given me a lot of verbal feedback over the years. Dominants, speak up!

I’ve come to pay attention to the underlying structures of his body with my hands. If you pay attention, you can feel where there’s a tense tendon or muscle and then work on loosening that up. I also have memorized the points that he reacts best to during massage. So when his shoulder is acting up, I can get right to the spot that helps.

The Good and The Sad

Published on October 24, 2011 in anxiety, crazy, D/s, depression, emotions, exhibitionism, mental illness, musings, show, submissive and Uncategorized. 2 Comments

I’m even more behind in blogging than usual. Over a week ago, MasterDoc and I did a show for the first time in a long time. It was a guy we had had over before, and like before I finished the scene with giving our guest a prostate massage until he came all over my tits. I have a few drafts, barely started, of posts about sexual things.

I’ve had some fantastic sex with MasterDoc. I also had Shane over last week (rowr); we hung out and again had awesome sex. I rode him, and when he’d reach his fingers to rub my clit I would grab my ankles and lean back a little. I think that’s when I came the hardest.

But the terrible part is, despite great sex, despite orgasms that blew my mind, I was mired in a severe depression for a few days.

This sucker was the type to blow all my usual depressions out of the water. When I was a teen, I was hospitalized for three months with depression. This felt like that sort of depression.

I thought I was all over this deep of an illness. I had matured, gotten medicated and better able to handle mood issues. But for the first time in well over a decade, I had fears of being hospitalized again.

I’m usually quite comfortable discussing depression. I feel that if it’s not talked about it remains mysterious and strange for those who aren’t mentally ill. But this time around I felt shame. I felt shame that I am so fucked up that I’m technically one of those people who are being made fun of when people joke about crazy people. (Pisses me off that if I had cancer or diabetes or some-such, the teasing would be just shocking to everyone and the jokers would be shamed.) I struggled with simply taking care of myself, which of course makes my submissive duties much, much harder. I felt ashamed that I couldn’t be a fully effective submissive.

I get pissed off that my illness could be used against me when I speak out about the times I was raped or sexually assaulted. My being mentally ill doesn’t mean those things didn’t happen, weren’t traumatic (to even an ordinary, mentally fit person) and doesn’t mean they shouldn’t be taken seriously. It’s so easy to take advantage of the mentally ill. People don’t take us seriously. We doubt ourselves a lot. Even when I’m not in an ill state, having “crazy” thrown at me (like after I was assaulted) stings like a motherfucker.

Usually, when I’m depressed I feel sad, out of sorts, have a hard time functioning. But this Friday-Sunday it was beyond that. I spent time with MasterDoc Saturday night, and despite amazing (truly AMAZING) orgasms, I cried as we cuddled after. I just couldn’t stop the tears. He’s one of the very few people I can relax around and just go with what’s going on. And it is amazing how he lets me cry and is just there for me.

On Friday, I felt like my chosen family wasn’t taking the severity of my depression seriously. But a talk with my friend DivaSub made me realize something – I have gotten very, very good at hiding just how mentally ill I can be. That conversation reminded me of one in high school with my best friend. I couldn’t understand how people didn’t know that I was totally miserable and anxious enough for regular panic attacks. My friend pointed out to me that I always seemed happy. I have become TOO good at not letting people know what’s going on inside. I think MasterDoc is the only person who I will let my guard down around and cry because of depression.

Let me explain for those who haven’t experienced it – it’s not that I’m sad 24/7 when I’m depressed. I have ups and downs, but my mood swings wildly and the downs are more frequent and much deeper than normal. I have anxiety that makes me not want to leave the house. I fear that the careful control I have will break down and I’ll be crazy in public. So the best thing to do is avoid being out of the house as much as possible.

I fear getting so mentally ill that I have to take a break from work. I fear that everyone will know then that I’m ill.

I hate the fact that I feel shame over this. I can’t control it. I’m not a bad person. But I have bouts when I’m quite depressed, when my brain isn’t working right and I can’t muster energy for basic functions. I’m sad and teary often. Please remember though, most of the time I feel quite mentally stable. (As I feel right now.) And this is probably true for a great many mentally ill people.

Home Life

Published on October 4, 2011 in bdsm, cunt, D/s, forced orgasm, happy, kink, musings, orgasm denial, sex and Uncategorized. 0 Comments

I’ve been living with MasterDoc and DeeDee for a month now and I’m quite happy living here. I’ve hit a total homebody phase and am usually quite content to hang around the apartment. I’ve gotten a lot of MasterDoc time and lots of hot, hot sex. I feel terrible that I no longer feel compelled to detail every encounter here. It’s just that I feel like my writing is stale. The sex, mind you, is still fantastic. I think it actually just gets better and better as time goes on.

Last night we were both in a playful, silly mood. It’s not all the time that our moods coordinate, but last night they meshed well. I love that our D/s relationship includes silly time and affection. It’s not all “suck my cock bitch!” although MasterDoc does like to say that, or some variation, often. (And often in jest in the middle of regular life.) While the sex got started via cuddling, MasterDoc soon grabbed my hair (What there is of it. It’s short, which I’m loving except for the fact that it’s harder for MasterDoc to grab me by the hair) and turned me on a great deal by grasping me firmly and speaking dirty to me. I wish I could recall what he said! Foreplay entirely consisted of this sort of play, but I was eager to come by the end of it.

He fucked me from on top, a position that is far more common for us now than before we both lost weight. While non-genitally-focused foreplay doesn’t always fully prepare my vag for sex (you do know that the vagina elongates as part of arousal, no?) if I slap on a little lube and MasterDoc takes his time, it is sweet anticipation while he puts his cock in gradually. He has a big cock, something I don’t think I mention here very often. I find it to be just right for the most part, my vag just needs a little time to open up to accommodate it. When we first started dating, the first few strokes of sex would hurt. But after that… well it fits so snugly inside me that I feel every stroke as he slides it in and out. It’s awesome.

Not all women are into being penetrated (nor all men for that matter!) but I find I really like it. While masturbation consists of clitoral stimulation, if I’m with a partner I like penile or digital (or dildo) penetration. Too deep can be problematic as my cervix doesn’t really like a pounding, but most of the time I’m too far gone into orgasm to notice.

I love the sort of “dance” that happens during sex with my orgasm. MasterDoc does thrusting that he knows will get me going, and I sorta try to hold back a little. I can hold back from orgasm indefinitely, which is why he let me know a while back that if I “accidentally” come it’s ok. So I still hold back, but I don’t grasp at that self-discipline as hard as I used to. Sometimes I’m not sure if my brain will let me let go, then MasterDoc fucks me hard and I start to wonder if I could hold back even if I tried. I love the feeling of being pushed into orgasm. As I start to come, he says, “That’s it, come cunt.” While last night was mostly what you’d call vanilla, there was still some roughness – he slapped my face during orgasm. Rowr.

We only went at it for one round, but I was feeling fabulous! I didn’t mind spending the rest of the night in less sexual pursuits.

On a different note, I finally broke down and started a tumblr. I plan to use it to share random stuff that I come across, quotes and suchlike. So far it’s fairly political but in the future I’m sure to add kinky photos that I like. It will definitely be random. It will consist of things too long to tweet but too short (or off topic) to merit a blog post. So if you like, follow me there too. If not, no problemo.

Catching Up (But Not with Depeche Mode)

Published on September 18, 2011 in attraction, caning, dating, depression, happy, horny, kink, musings, poly, sex, slut and Uncategorized. 2 Comments

(Bonus music geek points if you get the reference in the title.)

MasterDoc and I had some wonderful scenes before he went away to Dark Odyssey Summer Camp with DeeDee for the weekend. I’m the lazy person who didn’t take notes right after. He caned me, because I was in the midst of premenstrual dysphoric disorder week. It is amazing how much better I feel after a good hard caning! I felt great, until the next morning when the endorphins wore off and my biochemical issues reared their ugly head again. Still, some relief is better than no relief. Truly. I wish I remembered more details, because at the time I thought how awesome the sex was. I don’t mean to brag, I’m just very lucky.

An old flame from a couple of years back has reappeared – Shane. Back in 2009, I enjoyed dating him for a few months. He was kind enough to drive all the way back to my area (after just having driven home from seeing me) when I had such bad stomach pain that I needed to go to the emergency department. That night was when I was finally diagnosed with gallstones and a few weeks after I had surgery to remove my gallbladder. (I’ve been happier and pain-free since.) But despite our not dating for long, he came, met me there and sat with me for a few hours into the wee hours of the morning. He kept me company while I vomited and wished the injection of morphine would take effect. In other words, he showed himself to be a very nice guy. He drove me home when I was released and headed home himself (for the second time!) to get some sleep.

A month or two later, our contact became sporadic, and during one IM conversation he told me he had had a car accident and hurt his back. Yikes. He pretty much disappeared after that. I didn’t feel any ill will, I just figured it was one of those things that petered out on its own. Several weeks ago, I was surprised to get a message from him on facebook. He wanted to reconnect, find out how I’m doing, etc. He didn’t assume we’d just start dating or fucking again. But we made plans to hang out, because as I said, I had liked the guy and felt no ill will when he drifted away. Turns out he was busy dealing with all sort of stressful stuff – his business being chief among them. He didn’t have time for relationships.

So with a lag of 2 years in between, I seem to be seeing him again. We hung out last night. He hadn’t assumed we’d fuck but I sure did. *grin* It was awesome. I still like spending time with him every bit as much as I did before. He should have a bit more free time now since his business is doing well, so he promises not to be a stranger for two years again. He has one of my favorite combinations – a nice, respectful guy who is kinky and dominant. Does a subby (hetero or bi) woman need much else? We’re close in age so we share some pop culture references that MasterDoc doesn’t necessarily have. My age difference with MasterDoc doesn’t have much impact on my love or how much I enjoy being with him. But now and then I want to wax poetic about some 80′s band and he’s not the one to do it with.

It’s funny, because while I’ve gotten lots of messages from guys who seem interesting on the usual dating site I inhabit, I’ve been feeling more introverted, as well as just tired of meeting new people. Shane showed up at a perfect time when spending time with a known quantity is more appealing for me than the stress of getting to know someone from scratch.

I can hear MasterDoc now, saying “Phooey” when he finds that while I’ve blogged it’s mostly about another guy. It’s just that there’s only so many ways I can call him wonderful, sexy, domly, etc. I can only gush about loving him, loving being his submissive (most of the time), and the hot sex so many times.

The Dark Secret

Published on August 11, 2011 in assault, crazy, kink, musings, stupid people, trauma and Uncategorized. 5 Comments

I have a lovely, happy blog post brewing in my head. But I also have this one. I’m gonna handle this one first.

If you’ve hung around here for any length of time you know that I was sexually assaulted six years ago at a sex party. I’ve written about the triggering and post-traumatic stress issues I can still encounter after all this time. I probably have also written that the shitty way I was treated after was just as bad as the assault.

And if I haven’t, I should.

The dark secret of the kink/sex-positive community is that not everyone plays by the rules. And even those who do often fail to call out the predators on their bullshit. I’ve submitted a proposal for a panel discussion at Momentum next spring on finding ways to address this rather than sweep it under the rug. I feel like I’ve healed to the point where I’m ready to be an activist. Because I sure wish I had had an activist on my side when all that shit was originally going down. I’ve spoken to various women over the years who have been somehow abused or violated within what should have been a consensual, mutually enjoyable kink scene or sexual experience. (I don’t doubt that the men who have experienced abuse don’t even try to come forward. Being realistic, the majority of survivors are women, but I think the men who experience this need us to listen too.)

As a brief aside here, I like the term “survivor” rather than “victim.” I was a victim for the duration of my assault. I’m not always a victim. I have survived people ignoring my clearly stated boundaries on two occasions. I’m bitter that they have both changed my life forever (the first was totally outside the scene) but I have prevailed and found myself a wonderful Dom who takes care of me, not violates my boundaries. (Waxing poetic on this will be the next post.)

A big issue going hand-in-hand with the violations happening is that most people in the scene won’t listen when someone speaks up about it. These assaults (I’m using it as a general term for rape, sexual assault, physical assault, abuse, etc.) are whispered about at most. Those who speak up loudly, as I did via my old blog right after the assault happened to me, get branded as “crazy,” “drama queens,” and “troublemakers.” Often they do what I did for a few years – they disappear from the scene, disillusioned that a community that gives so much lip service to consent could turn a blind eye. The predators doing this do it more than once. I know of at least three men within the NYC scene who have violated boundaries more than once. On twitter this week one of my twitter pals was furious and frustrated when she tried to speak up about another woman’s assault within her local kink scene. She must have received mostly the same sort of bullshit I had.

“It’s a he said/she said thing. I don’t want to get involved.”

Or they make up excuses for the person. “Well, he was drunk.” The support I’ve received over the years from people within “the community” has been minimal. But it is increasing and I want to lend my voice to those speaking out.

Let me start with this, if you don’t get involved, don’t take sides, then you are by default supporting the perpetrator. Silence lets this cancer flourish in the community. Sometimes, the predatory people are the ones running parties and educational sessions at conferences. This will not end until we speak up and hold our fellow kinksters responsible for their actions. I don’t give a shit if “that guy” seems nice and throws fun parties. If you keep quiet you are enabling him. (I’ll bet there are a few women who violate boundaries, but because of our socialization, it ends up being men far more often.)

I had the pleasure of meeting a kinkster guy recently, and we somehow got onto this lovely topic. He filled me in on someone being predatory that I didn’t know about, and I filled him in on the one I know about first hand. We compared notes and he too has seen women who speak up dismissed as “crazy.” Branding someone as crazy is an effective way to silence them. I’m sure this tactic has been used to silence women (and other minorities) for centuries.

But this guy I met up with brought up a concern we must address. He pointed out that in his experiences as a Dom he has made mistakes. People do make mistakes. But you know what? If you make a mistake you apologize, try to mend the hurt as best you can and learn from it. There are men like himself who hesitate to get involved in lambasting a predator because they fear that a simple, unintentional mistake on their part will place them in that position.

I know this can be difficult for nice guys to believe, but the chance of that is small. People who apologize and try to fix the harm they’ve accidentally done are not the types I’m talking about here. I spoke online with the guy who assaulted me a night or two after the event. I wanted to believe it was a mistake. I wanted an apology so I could do my best to forgive and move on. I didn’t get an apology. I got excuses. I got a scared little man trying to deny his responsibility and getting angry with me when I called him out. Soon I was one of those so-called “crazy” women in the scene. The few who actually listened to me and agreed that what happened was wrong were usually afraid to speak up. The predators among us manage to snag a few friends who will stand up for them, not really knowing what they’re like. The person who’s been assaulted, and their allies, get their voices drowned out.

Since I’ve seen this time and time again, I have to call all of you out on one bullshit excuse item: the idea that women make up stories of being assaulted to retaliate against someone.

Seriously? Go back and read my description above about what happens when someone speaks up. What would making up a story accomplish? Absolutely nothing. False rape reporting has been a red herring thrown about by the media for years. With 60% of ACTUAL rapes not being reported because of the dismal reaction victims of sexual violence usually get from law enforcement, how many women can be stupid enough to lie about it? There are a few of course, but the estimate of “unfounded” reported rapes is just 8%.

From Wikipedia:

FBI reports consistently put the number of “unfounded” rape accusations around 8%. The average rate of unfounded reports for Index crimes is 2%. However, “unfounded” is not synonymous with false allegationand as Bruce Gross of the Forensic Examiner explains,

“This statistic is almost meaningless, as many of the jurisdictions from which the FBI collects data on crime use different definitions of, or criteria for, “unfounded.” That is, a report of rape might be classified as unfounded (rather than as forcible rape) if the alleged victim did not try to fight off the suspect, if the alleged perpetrator did not use physical force or a weapon of some sort, if the alleged victim did not sustain any physical injuries, or if the alleged victim and the accused had a prior sexual relationship. Similarly, a report might be deemed unfounded if there is no physical evidence or too many inconsistencies between the accuser’s statement and what evidence does exist. As such, although some unfounded cases of rape may be false or fabricated, not all unfounded cases are false.” (Emphasis mine)

It’s time to end this now. If we want the outside world to know that bsdm doesn’t equal abuse, then we need to make sure that’s true to the best of our ability. I’m thrilled that I’ve seen signs of people waking up and speaking out. But we still have a long way to go.

Are you an activist or an enabler?

______________________________________________________________________________

Kitty Stryker has been tackling the topic:
Safe/Ward: A What You Can Do Guide

Safe/Ward Blog Carnival (trigger warning) This link will lead you to a cornucopia of blog posts by kinkster women who have been violated at some point or another, often not speaking out until years later.

If you’ve been subjected to assault or abuse, RAINN is a good resource for information. I found that even being at a sex party didn’t make the professional counselors I went to dismiss what happened to me. (I tried coping for 2-3 months on my own because I was afraid I’d be blamed.) I’m sure a few asshole therapists out there would blame the victim, but most professionals do not.

I’m one of those kinksters who will lend an ear to any survivor who needs to talk. There are a few more out there. Let’s make THOSE voices the ones that are heard.

Victory!

Published on July 26, 2011 in diet, emotions, happy, musings, optimism and Uncategorized. 2 Comments

Considering I haven’t had sex in days, this will be another non-sexual post. But I felt so triumphant earlier that I just have to share.

When I stepped on the Wii balance board tonight to weigh myself, I got to hear the little cartoony voice say, “That’s normal!” for the first time. Now, it’s referring to BMI which I realize is a terribly imperfect measure for individual weight loss. But the fact that I started off in the obese range about a year and a half ago, this feels like such a triumph. I went from a BMI of over 30, to one that’s 24.95. Just barely in the “normal” range, but this is the first time in my adult life I’ve been anywhere near there.

If you had asked me at the outset of this weight loss/lifestyle change if I would reach “normal” and be able to fit into some size 12 items of clothing, and weigh less than 170 lbs. I would have thought it was a lovely dream, but one I would never reach. I’ve reached it. (I’m taller than average, by the way. And I started this journey at a peak weight of 227 lbs.) Holy moly. Now I’m focusing on maintaining my eating habits and keeping up with exercise. I’ll probably lose a little more weight but that’s not my focus now. I’ve actually lost only about 5 lbs. this year, but the exercise is changing how my body looks.

After the weigh in, I switched discs to EA Sports Active, because I’ve been pushing myself with those workouts lately. The change in what I’m capable of doing is amazing. When I first tried it about two years ago, doing one squat was difficult. Now, I’ve set my squats to “hard” (which means it makes me do more of them. Twenty, I think.). My ass hurts, but I suppose it’s the hurt of a future non-flabby ass. I couldn’t do the lunges before without leaning on something for support. Now I can do it just like the animated figure on the screen. I can do the easy runs now, and hopefully I’ll work my way up to the longer ones. My asthmatic lungs need the workout.

Unfortunately this joy is always tempered by the perpetual body issues most women have in this culture of ours. I’m no different. I’m thrilled to be wearing smaller clothes, weighing less, getting compliments on my weight loss, feeling healthier. But I’m also angsty over my now flat and saggy breasts. (They were just saggy before. Hey, at DD cup you can’t help that. Now I’m a D in some bras, still DD in a few.) I hate the extra skin that I’m told could take up to 2 years to tighten up to match my new, thinner body. I love how my arms have started developing some visible muscle, but I still hate the under arm flab – even if it is much smaller than before.

I wish that as a feminist I truly didn’t care about looks. But I still do to a certain extent. Strangely enough I felt more comfortable being naked at a swing club when I was heavier. I suppose that’s because I had come to accept my body. I also think the loose skin is more unattractive than being fat. I remind myself that will change. Be patient. I didn’t lose all that weight at once, and my skin (largest organ of the human body!) will take some time to adjust to such a dramatic change.

But I will savor that moment when the Wii fit told me I was “normal” and I shouted to MasterDoc to come look. I’ve been hovering on that threshold for a while now, and it was awesome to go over it.

What’s Up?

Published on July 25, 2011 in anxiety, depression, emotions, mental illness, musings, stress, trust, Uncategorized and venting. 6 Comments

This post probably won’t be overly sexual, but just my way of blabbing about things on my mind. Hey, it’s been a week since I blogged, at least this is something, ya know?

I’ve been very sad the past day or so as someone I liked a great deal has decided that I’m a liar. This person seems to be suffering from delusions, but as I’m not a medical professional and only know what’s been on their twitter feed, I have no way to know if that’s what’s truly happening. I backed off when things started happening in this person’s life (at first thinking all the stuff was really happening – why would I doubt someone who seemed completely sane? I still suspect that some things this person has asserted really have gone on.) but I would occasionally vaguely mention them in a tweet to indicate that I was a) missing them, b) supportive of whatever was going on, c) worried about them. I hadn’t emailed them in weeks but last Tuesday I sent one. When I didn’t get a response I was left to assume that maybe their email was still compromised in some way.

Let me say as an aside, that my thinking this person is mentally ill is not meant to be a derogatory comment. I suffer from depression. I’m mentally ill. I understand that if someone’s ill it can be hard to see it and impossible to control it. I hope this person gets help – or that I’m wrong about my suspicions of their mental state.

I had backed off reading their twitter because even though I cared about this person I barely knew, I couldn’t do a damn thing and it was really up to them to get in touch with me. I would peek now and then, but wasn’t making sure to read all tweets like I had previously. Imagine my surprise when I looked Sunday morning a few minutes after they had tweeted something directed at me, calling me a liar, saying they don’t think I’m hacked (I never said I was so I don’t know where that came from) and to never email or tweet about them again. Ok. It’s hard to accept that someone I have done nothing wrong to thinks so badly about me, but if someone is mentally ill I don’t think arguing with them would help. So no more tweets, no more emails, and after this one post, no more mention of this person ever. I have no desire to bother someone who doesn’t want to hear from me. I have deliberately kept this explanation vague to give this person as much privacy as possible. I find it strange that they suddenly posted this message to me 6 days after I had last emailed (which was the first time in weeks) and 8 days after I had referred to them on twitter.

But I’m sad. I’m hurt. I’m disappointed. And I can’t do a damn thing but pick up and move on with my life. So I will. If this person happens to read my blog, hey, I’m not a bad person like you think I am but I doubt my saying so will matter. No need to tweet about not blogging about you, I won’t again and I’ve stopped reading your tweets anyway. Good bye and good luck.

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So through the sadness I felt as I tried to process this strange turn of events, I reminded myself that I have MasterDoc. At the end of last week depression hit, but considering it was PMDD week, one day of mental illness was quite an improvement over the usual symptoms. (We’ve been playing with my birth control pill regimen – it’s useful to have a Dom who’s a doctor.) MasterDoc happened to be spending a night and morning with a playmate of his, and knowing he was going to the beach with her after I hadn’t seen him in a couple of days, and wouldn’t see him for a few days after just fueled my depression. When my mind goes wonky like that, I find things to obsess over. I focused on, “But he’s my Dom, he’s supposed to take care of me!”

Thankfully, I recognized the depression and I didn’t get angry with MasterDoc (not for long anyway and not when he was home). When he got home that afternoon I was happy to see him, got myself some cuddles and found out that he had in fact been concerned that going to the beach on the last day of my premenstrual issues was not a good idea. But hey, I survived. And spending time with him for the rest of that day was wonderful. It’s wonderful that I opted to shake off negative feelings towards him, and just bask in his affection. My mood improved greatly and my mood evened out enough to make it possible for me to get through the weekend alone without too much angst. (Except the section above.)

I also have fond memories of having sex with him earlier last week. The bond we feel and the way we both know how to touch each other so that the other person twitches with arousal is pretty amazing. Lately I had been having some insecurity thing about him not desiring me any more. That insecurity was mostly squashed after that night with him.

So I’m my usual ball of angst but I’m mostly keeping it in perspective. Time to get back on track with diet and exercise (during the heatwave we had this week I mostly didn’t exercise. The one time I did I thought I’d fall over and pass out with all the sweat I was losing despite being right in front of the air conditioner!), and focusing on the things I can change in life.