Tag: sexuality

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Dev and Thumper talk

Transcript of an instant message conversation in which Dev helps Thumper figure some shit out. After-the-fact commentary in italics.

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Dev: I read your post.  It was more positive than how you described it yesterday, which must be a good sign.

Thumper: i have two other bile-filled ones I never finished

Dev: I have an only semi-related question for you, or two questions really: (1) Are you able to cry? and (2) How does Belle respond if you do?

Thumper: (1) I can and have, but not in a while. (2) Hmm. Usually by trying to comfort me. Fix what I’m crying about.

Thumper: Last time i cried it was about feeling weird and guilty and like a freak for bringing kink to my marriage

Dev: right, maybe you blogged about that, it sounds vaguely familiar

Thumper: i think i did

Thumper: that was it

Thumper: there was lots of crying around the time i told her about the affair

Thumper: natch

Dev: yeah

Dev: She should have apologized about falling asleep.  Definitely.

Thumper: she eventually did, but in that pissy “i’m only doing this to shut you up” kind of way

Dev: But (IMO) she is right that you should stop pushing the dildo thing.  Like, a while back already.  (Sorry.  Please don’t hate me.)

Thumper: totally

Thumper: actually, when she finally put it that way, it really turned me on

Thumper: if only she had let it lie

Thumper: “pushing the dildo”

Thumper: snerk

Dev: lol

Dev: btw, when Jos and I fuck, and I get to the point where I want to come (which I can’t from just fucking) or I am tired of him stopping (so as not to come) then I stop him and I use my vibrator while he fucks me with his fingers.  Fingers work much better than a dildo for me personally

Thumper: “pushing the dildo” would be a good name for a blog

Thumper: belle’s unusual in that she can come solely from fucking. i don’t need to stimulate her clit to make her come.

Thumper: i only know that’s unusual since i listen to dan savage’s podcast

Thumper: the difference between you and she is also that she *does not care* that I need to stop. she won’t let me.

Thumper: i think it’s one of the reasons she moved to the top recently

Thumper: so i can’t stop

Thumper: that *sounds* hot (Yes, it does!)

Thumper: but it isn’t

Thumper: not really (Yes, it is.)

Thumper: i obsess. (Jesus, lighten up!)

Thumper: during the fight night, she said she was “letting” me come in those situations

Thumper: when, in fact, i did not want to.

Thumper: she was actually “making” me come

Dev: yes

Thumper: seriously against my will

Thumper: which, again, could be hot (No shit!)

Thumper: if played the right way (Ding ding ding!!)

Dev: Sounds more like she is making you lie there and get fucked regardless of whether you come or not.  Which is also hot.

Thumper: that’s it

Thumper: if i don’t come, good for me. if I do, so be it. suffer the consequences.

Thumper: maybe i’m looking at this the wrong way… (Ya think?)

Thumper: cause right now, it sounds pretty good (Oh, yeah it does.)

Dev: I think there are ways she could put this to you that are very hot, but she’s not likely to find them and you don’t want to do too much coaching.  If you can find it in yourself to translate for her to yourself, it would work

Thumper: god, that’s smart

Thumper: that’s it exactly

Dev: I only really “got” the right words to say to Jos after he said them to me when we were switched, and it was so fucking hot that now I understand it deeply and can carry out my side of it better than ever before

Thumper: in fact, there’s so much i need to “translate” within myself

Thumper: hmmm

Dev: but I don’t think you’re going to switch with her so I don’t think she’s going to get it that way, if she even could, which is doubtful

Thumper: nope, she’ll never switch

Dev: but it’s clear that she just wants to fuck you and get her pleasure from fucking you without having to have a bunch of angst over whether she’s allowed to do stuff that (incidentally) makes you come

Thumper: that’s right. she could have said that

Dev: and that is a totally cool thing to want (IMO as a non-participant in your relationship)

Thumper: the denial is fine until it gets in her way

Dev: She CAN’T say that because for you it would imply that she doesn’t care whether you come or not and you can’t handle that

Thumper: she once said she didn’t care and that was bad. but, if it was just another form or torment…

Thumper: of testing me

Thumper: and punishing me if i failed (I think he’s starting to get it…)

Thumper: god, that would be cool

Dev: …which is how she handled it last time

Dev: now, it would be better if she would just beat you for your failure rather than doing the sort of “no sex, no touching” thing, but she’d have to be comfortable with that

Thumper: icy hot

Thumper: she already knows that’s close to my limit

Thumper: at least the way she applied it last time

Thumper: fuck, that hurt

Dev: And if it was right after you came it wouldn’t be sexy either, until later

Thumper: god no

Thumper: *or* she could make me clean it out of her. that’d totally do it for me

Thumper: without the pain, too…

Dev: But she might not feel like it, after coming herself.  I don’t know what she’s like.

Thumper: oh, yeah

Dev: and that sounds more like a treat than a punishment

Thumper: true

Dev: to me

Thumper: it helps that you’re a female

Thumper: here’s a crazy idea. would you mind if i copied this exchange, removed the real names, and posted it?

Dev: Not at all

Thumper: sweet

Thumper: thanks

Dev: 🙂

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Fight night

This is my 18th day since I last came, but, more importantly, it’s the fifth day since I was last able to give Belle an orgasm. It’s starting to get to me. Her release is my release and when I’m not able to achieve that I start to get squirrelly. Just as our yellow sun provides Superman his powers, contact with Belle’s flesh and exposure to her pleasure keeps my submission on the side of truth, justice, and the American Way. Absent that, and it’s Bizzaro Superman: dark, imperfect, wrong.

Complicating my feelings today is a rather large fight we had on Tuesday night. We hardly ever fight anymore. I think this is at least partly because my ego is less of an issue when I’m in the subby mindset. However, I can still get pissed, as I did Tuesday.

It started with a conversation about the dildo/harness thing again and she, yet again, expressed no interest in it. I tried to lobby for it the best I could, but she finally pulled the Dominant card. Is she not in control of when, where, and how we have sex? Yes, of course. OK, then. I promise never to bring it up again. I’m sorry.

But she wouldn’t drop it. She accused me of wanting to introduce it to our stable of toys primarily for my pleasure. In fact, that’s entirely untrue. Yes, there’s a part of me that really gets off on the idea of fucking her while not fucking her – of replacing my meat with something else – but the primary reason I want it is because I know how much she enjoys the act of being fucked by me. And yeah, I like fucking her. But, when I’m being denied, the act leaves me an emotional wreck. Nine times out of ten, I come (especially if it’s been a while). I do nothing but obsess and worry while it’s happening and, afterward, I really and truly feel like shit. So, yes, I would get something out of it (submissive charge from being “replaced”, freedom from orgasm angst while pleasuring her), but she would also get something out of it (enjoying a good fuck more often, enjoying a phallus engineered to give her pleasure). But she insisted I was not telling her the truth. That I was trying to spin this as a plus for her when, in fact, I was thinking more about myself. That pissed me off.

Then, of course, there was the other thing. Even though I’ve written about how I really never want to experience true sexual satisfaction again – that is, I never want to come so much that I lose my constant desire to come some more – I’m not sure she really believes it. So I was pouring my soul out about this significant change in me and my approach to my sexuality, really trying to make her understand how profound I find this realization – when, at the end of my little oratory, I found she had fallen asleep. Yes, it was 10ish, yes, the candles were glowing, yes, we were laying in bed and, of course, she had consumed her fair share of the wine, but come on! She fell asleep on me. While I was emoting.

Poof. Any and all subspace totally evaporated. That left me a pissed off, horny, locked-up dude (if not for the device, I’m sure I would have rubbed one out right then). I blew out the candles and put on some clothes (sorry, did I not mention I was naked through this whole exchange?). She woke up, tried to pretend she hadn’t fallen asleep, and then the fight part started. She was pissed at me for being pissed at her for falling asleep. I thought that was total bullshit and told her as much. Evidence of the bunny was nowhere to be found. So, we yelled at each other for a few minutes before finally settling in to talk some more.

Bottom line for her was two things. One, she felt sex had taken over our relationship. I told her, IMO, sex was our relationship. I’m a guy. Guys need sex. We equate sex with love and connection, etc. This had been covered at length in our counseling. If she thought I was placing too much emphasis on it, that’s fine, but, as far as I am concerned, we have just enough sex in our relationship right now. If she ever thought I was making too big a deal over it, she was entirely within her rights to tell me to back off. In fact, she could even do so within the construct of our dynamic and still give me a form of what I was looking for.

Second thing for her was her continued insecurity with regard to her role in our dynamic and the potential that she was not living up to all the things I wanted from a dominant partner. She was afraid of disappointing me. I told her I fully expected her to disappoint me. I totally accept that nobody could be the perfect dominant I have in my head. In fact, I’m not even sure what that ideal would look like. Disappointment in any relationship is par for the course and unavoidable. All I want from her is to be as comfortable as possible with herself and let the rest happen as it will. In fact, I am, as I have said here multiple times, over-the-moon happy with her and our relationship. I am happier now than I have ever been with anyone, even her for the first 10 years of our marriage. I have shared things with her and done things with her I never though I would do with anyone. I could not be more satisfied with her or where we are as a couple. Except for this gnawing insecurity on her part. I worry that she’s only going through the motions to make me happy. That she really doesn’t want to live this way or do these things. She says that’s not true. She says she likes where we are and likes to keep me locked-up and all that. I believe her, but struggle to make her understand that, more than the ideal dominant partner, I need a confident partner and that she has every right to feel confident in her role right now. She rocks. She’s amazing. She is so, so good for me. I say it all the time (or, at least, I feel as though I do), but her doubt and insecurity lingers.

I told her last night that really, truly, this is what I want. I want the denial. I want the control. I want to live with the constant sexual frustration. I want the basic unfairness of the arrangement. Really. I will never, ever hold it against her. It’s how I want to be. All she has to do now is believe it.

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Going gay

Over on Fetlife, a guy started a thread called “Effects of Chastity on young males” in which he expresses his concern that being in chastity was turning him gay. Apparently, after being locked up for six weeks he had found himself craving assplay and was becoming aroused by the idea of “servicing” another man (or rather, being “forced” to do so by his domme). This guy was really worried that chastity was causing him to become something he felt was morally wrong. I don’t bring this up in order to make fun of him (though, based on some of his comments, I think he should be made fun of). Instead, his post has made me, a guy who’s enjoyed his fair share of assplay and “servicing”, ponder what it means to be “gay”.

For most of my living memory, I’ve been attracted to both genders. Many of my most vivid memories of childhood are those in which I engaged in sex play with my friends (going back to seven or eight years old, even). Most of the time, those friends were boys, but not always. As I got older and my equipment started to develop into something I could actually do stuff with, it was still the boys I was fooling around with most of the time. I think this was primarily due to the fact that boys were around me in large numbers and, it turns out, were just as horny as I was. I had several “partners” in my formative years who today, no doubt, would identify as the straightest of straight men and would totally repudiate any claim that they could be otherwise. But that doesn’t change the fact that other guys were cheap and easy and, as an added bonus, I liked their cocks as much as I liked my own.

At some point, I realized this wasn’t “normal”. Not only was playing around with sex a bad thing (as defined by my parents and other adults), but doing so with other boys was a Bad Thing™. And, since I often was the one to instigate it, I was doubly bad. The idea that I might be gay bubbled up in my head. Gay, as in faggot. As in all the terrible things young men call each other. As in the type of person others in my family detested and derided. That did not make me happy.

Once I hit high school and discovered the wonders of personal hygiene, the opposite sex discovered me. And I discovered I liked them, too. In fact, I liked them just as much, though differently, as I did the boys. I found girls and boys to be different in all kinds of wonderful ways. Like, when I kissed a girl her spit was mild, fragrant, and not as thick as what I found in a boy’s hot, steamy mouth. Girls were all soft and curvy and had these neat extra parts while the boys were hard and pushy and more familiar. Girls were a mysterious game, where the rules were always shifting and winning was hard, while boys were direct and simple (even the straight boys were easy to beat). I was an equal opportunity player and game for just about anything. For a while there, my girlfriend was best friends with my best friend’s girlfriend. We’d hang out in his room after school making out with the girls and, when they left, we’d make out with each other (and much more). This did not seem weird to me at the time.

If I identified as anything then, it was bisexual. I really hate the term bisexual (then and now), but it was the best I had to work with. I knew I wasn’t straight since I liked cock, but I wasn’t gay since I liked nearly everything about girls. I bristled then (and still would today) at the suggestion some of my gay friends made that I was confused. I was not confused about what I liked. I was confused about what that made me and how I was supposed to fit into a world where people like me didn’t seem to exist.

Eventually, I realized that while I could be sexually satisfied by both genders, there was a hole in my soul only a woman could fill. True, with a woman there were cravings for certain sex acts and body parts that would go unfulfilled. I decided, though, that I would never be emotionally satisfied with a man (though not before treating like shit the only one I ever loved). In fact, I was not gay. After a while, I got married, we had kids, bought a house and dog. But I still resist calling myself straight or bisexual. I am just me, the guy who’ll fuck anyone.

While I don’t consider the gender we crave for emotional satisfaction a choice (and, therefore, homosexuality isn’t a choice), I do consider the acts in which we engage to be a choice. I chose to have sex with men. I do not choose to find them attractive, they just are. I don’t choose to like taking up the ass, I just do. However, engaging in homosexual activities does not make me a homosexual (any more than my voting for Ronald Reagan makes me a Republican – but that’s another story). I think this is where a lot of “choice” arguments come from. Religious/conservative types who, in their youth, played around with guys like me and then, when they got older, assumed anyone who engaged in hot guy on guy action was choosing to do so, rather than doing what they felt most comfortable and natural doing.

So, long way around, the dude on Fetlife who was having urges to suck guys off and let them fuck him wasn’t going to end up any gayer than me, Rick Warren, or the man on the moon. You can only be gay when you’re gay. Straight boys who like cock are nothing more than that.

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Personal Jesus, the second coming

Wow, how many people have I insulted in how many ways with that title?

There were some really great comments in Personal Jesus that I wanted to address, so I’m moving them out here so I can do so more publicly.

First up was Dev who said:

I think the suffering thing is one of the hardest for the dominant partner to deal with, even if the dominant partner happens to be a sadist (like me). Because to really push the suffering can mean really taking the partner somewhere that they really do not want (in the moment) to go, but are deeply thrilled by. It takes a lot of trust to know that this is really all right. It takes a lot of times of them coming back later and telling you how awesome it was for them.

I have seen a change in Belle’s behavior regarding the suffering as we’ve gone along. Before any of my sexual oddities became clearly known, she always knew I liked a little pain in my sex. She’d twist my nipples or scratch my back and it was all good, but it never really hurt. She was holding back because I’m sure she didn’t know how much pain I really wanted or could take. Now, she’s freaking medieval with both her use of nails and when she abuses my nipples. After each event, I have been careful to tell her exactly how much I liked what she had done and, as best I could, describe how much pain she had inflicted. She’s become quite adept at making my nipples scream and knows the tender places into which she should dig her nails. She has, on several occasions, really hurt me which, of course, I adore. A newer thing for us now is CBT. With that, we’re about where we were with the nipples three months ago. Each time, she hurts me a little more, but she hasn’t yet crossed my limit. And don’t even get me started with the biting. I get positively weak in the knees, the way she bites me.

Then Tom Allen said:

[I]f you want to suffer, then how can you really call it suffering? And if Belle doesn’t care one way or the other about it, then you’re going to feel that she’s doing it simply to satisfy you.

I can’t really answer that first question. It’s a conundrum. As I said above, I’ve always enjoyed a little pain in my sex, but to truly suffer – to be taken to the edge and beyond – I think that’s different. I can’t say why exactly, but I want to suffer for her. I want something above a dash of painful spice. And it’s reciprocal. I want to feel it from her and for her. This is altogether different than anything I’ve expressed or desired before.

And as far as figuring out what to do if she never really enjoys it and is only doing it for me, I guess I’d respond that everyone in a relationship does things like that (or should). It’s a give and take and while I need to be prepared to do for her things I know she likes that I don’t particularly care for, I expect she’ll do the same for me. And I need to get over the fact that she’s not enjoying it as much as me. My Belle is the personification of the good, giving, and game partner, as I also try to be for her.

Tom went on to say:

Ms. Rika has an interesting take on this – she writes (her website has been hijacked) that it’s more important for her to find what she wants, and to dominate from that perspective. Later, when she’s more comfortable, she can “reward” you by doing things that make you feel good, simply because one acknowledges that partners should make a point in pleasing each other a little bit, as long as it’s not too far out of their comfort zones.

I think that’s a very sensible approach and one I think we should work on. I want Belle to find the vector into this that rings her bell. I will endeavor to be patient while we find that path.

You need to stop feeling disappointed that she doesn’t “get” what you get; and start supporting what she does get. Remember, you’ve had years and years to develop your twisted, perverted fantasies; she needs time to catch up.

Maybe I sound disappointed on the blog, but I’m really not. I appreciate so much what Belle’s been willing to try and how much she has given me in a relatively short time. I do get impatient but it’s because I’m so damned horny all the time. I’m not a patient person to begin with. Mix in some hormones and it’s even worse. Nevertheless, I know I’m a very lucky man to have such a mate.

Then Dev came back and said:

One thing I’d recommend – and since I don’t know either of you, this could be totally horrible advice, but that’s what you go to the Internet for, right? – is that you be really, really open to hearing from Belle the truth about her own personal experiences. Use your very best encouragement and just handle whatever you hear back. And do this often, like all the time.

I’m doing this. At least, I think I’m doing this. At least, I’m trying to do this. I’ll ask her to make sure I’m doing this.

I remember pretty early in my relationship with Jos, we were lying in bed and he asked me what I wanted to do. I couldn’t figure out the answer, because the question I was actually asking myself was, “What would be [from an outside or ‘objective’ perspective] sexy to do next?” And then suddenly I realized that, no, I can just do what I actually want to, and it will be all right.

That must sound really basic and messed-up not to “get” but it actually took trust for me to promote my own wishes in bed rather than thinking of it from some overview perspective about what is sexy or right or good to do, etc. Having a partner who encouraged honesty was a big deal in that process.

Who am I to criticize someone for not getting something obvious? This whole blog has been an exploration of me figuring out otherwise obvious things.

So did Jos do anything to help you come to that realization or did you get there all on your own? I agree that women are socialized to consider the needs of others before theirs, even in bed, but I really want Belle to do what she wants first and primarily. This is very hard for her. She’s been brought up in an environment that was about putting others first. When it comes to our sex, I want it to be about her first, second, and third.

I read what I just wrote and realize I need to fight the urge within me to want to be treated unfairly and to suffer. I need sexual gratification. I need it to be about me every once in a while. I know that. I’m not saying I want to live some kind of malesub porn fantasy where she brings me out to worship her pussy every night and then kicks me to the floor when she’s done. No, not that or anything like it. I do, though, want our sex to be about her mostly and for most of the time.

It’s one thing to try (for instance) beating someone. It’s another thing to know that you’re going to have to claim that you liked it, or that you insist on it, or that it wasn’t for them at all but for yourself. You (the dom) should be able to actually just do it, and then reflect on how it was for you, and be honest if it didn’t work.

I agree. But what’s my role as the sub? Am I allowed to ask for things that she doesn’t like? Or should I just accept what works for her and move on? This is the tricky bit for me because I’ve never been submissive before in anything. I have no idea what the rules are. I said above that I assumed we should continue to do for each other things we know the other likes, even those things we may not be individually thrilled with. Does that continue to apply in a D/s dynamic? Should she do things she’s OK with mostly because I like them?

I don’t know. This is getting to be a ridiculously long comment.

And that’s turned into a rediculously long post in response to your rediculously long comment! Regardless, thank you both so much for your thoughts. I really appreciate them.

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Five and five-eighths

Ranat over on Beyond the Hills posted a terrific rant entitled Big Cocks and Why They Are Stupid. Here’s a sample:

Oh, and let us segue into the idiotic myth of the infinitely stretchy continuum of the vagina that can somehow magically accommodate anything. Reality check: it ends. Ultimately, the vagina has a finite length. You hit the cervix, squeeze into the deep spots on the side, and you’re done. Can’t go any farther. I can only speak from personal experience, as I have not put anything up anyone else’s cunt but my own, but to tell you more about my internal proportions than you ever wanted to know, more than five inches? Impossible. Utterly. Five. Inches. Four on a sore day. Five and a quarter on a particularly stretchy day. Do you have any idea how annoying it is that the standard size for dildos is seven inches?!?!?

This tickles me for a number of reasons. First, it makes me recall a question once posited by my boyfriend in high school. I paraphrase, but it went something along the lines of since guys are so hung up on length, do you suppose girls sit around and talk about depth? He also says I at one time said my dick was bigger than his and I suppose I may have said this, but I honestly have no recollection of it, and besides, he’s extraordinarily well proportioned, so I don’t know why I’d make such a demonstrably wrong comment. Usually, when I say things that are wrong, I try to make them difficult if not impossible to prove. It’s kinda stupid to be laying in bed with a guy and say your boner’s longer than his when, well, they’re right there.

The other reason I find Ranat’s rant funny is I was just measuring my erect penis the other day. I know this sounds fishy, but I had a really good reason. As I’ve mentioned a few times, I’m seriously hung up on this idea that Belle will someday make me fuck her with a strap-on while I’m in chastity. To that end, I was dildo shopping and trying to find one that more or less matched my size (like Ranat, Belle is disinterested in a seven-inch wonder schlong). For those keeping score at home, this one’s not too far off.

Whilst measuring, I was surprised to find I was not as long as I thought I was. To the best of my recollection, I am six inches long. The handful of times I had measured before, I was always six inches on the nose (or whatever). This time, I was about five and five-eighths. I have to admit, this bothered me, even though Belle (the only person who really matters) finds it to be a perfect five and five-eighths. In fact, it’s been the perfect length for every women I’ve ever been with. I can even remember tickling a few cervixes, so anything more would have been too much, which is exactly what Ranat was saying to begin with. I’m also comforted by the fact that, according to Wikipedia, I am positioned at the very tip top of the bell curve when it comes to erect length and girth. Yay for normal distribution.

So, the old boyfriend’s question and Ranat’s post got me wondering what the average female depth is. Turns out the average aroused vagina is between five and six inches long. In other words, perfect for my Mr. Winky. But what’s really funny is how differently vaginal depth and penis length are discussed on Wikipedia. There is exactly one paragraph (that I could find) dealing with vaginal depth. And here it is:

The human vagina is an elastic muscular canal that extends from the cervix to the vulva. Although there is wide anatomical variation, the length of the unaroused vagina is approximately 6 to 7.5 cm (2.5 to 3 in) across the anterior wall (front), and 9 cm (3.5 in) long across the posterior wall (rear). During sexual arousal the vagina expands in both length and width. Its elasticity allows it to stretch during sexual intercourse and during birth to offspring. The vagina connects the superficial vulva to the cervix of the deep uterus.

Notice no mention of what the aroused state’s length is, just that it gets longer when wet. Keep in mind that that paragraph is just a small part of the main vagina article. Now, contrast that with the penis. Penis length has been dedicated an entire article all its own. It has ten (count ’em, ten) sections. How to measure the penis, studies on its size, its size at birth, how its size changes with age, differences between flaccid and erect lengths (with pictures), how to enlarge it through surgery, historical, modern, and popular perceptions of its size, etc., etc. I mean, come on guys! Obsess much?

Turns out, there is an approved way to measure one’s penis and I wasn’t using it the other day. It’s entirely possible I am six inches or I’m only five and a half. Either way, it doesn’t matter. Just like Mary Poppins, it’s practically perfect in very way.

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Personal Jesus

Following some of my recent posts, a friend emailed me to caution against forgetting that there’s two people in my relationship. He was concerned that I might lose sight of the fact that Belle needs to get something out of all this, too. I have endeavored to always keep that in mind, but I appreciated the reminder and last night shared the email with Belle.

This very subject has come up in our most recent counseling session (yes, we’re still doing that). What I need and want now requires so much more proactive involvement from Belle and what she wants and needs has remained pretty much the same. So, what’s in it for her? I am prepared to do whatever it takes to satisfy any fantasies she has or wants to explore, even those that would fall outside the nascent D/s framework he have going. So far, she hasn’t asked for anything out of the ordinary. Absent a quid pro quo fantasy exchange, I asked Belle what she likes about what we’ve been doing. What does she get out of it? Here’s what she said:

  • The deeper intimacy we share now that all my kinks have been exposed
  • Our increased amount of communication
  • Reading this blog (sort of relates to the two above)
  • The turn-on she gets from watching me clean the kitchen for her (relatively new)
  • Pink, her little vibe
  • All the extra orgasms she’s been getting

I may have missed something, but it’s mostly right. It’s not a bad list. It is obviously a woman’s list, but that doesn’t make it bad and, since she’s a women, it’s unsurprising. I’m overjoyed that she’s actually getting something out of all this. Whether it’s worth the extra effort she needs to put in is only something she can answer, of course.

After she was done relating these things to me, she said the look on my face suggested I wasn’t satisfied. No, it’s not that I wasn’t satisfied, but there was one thing in particular I was hoping she’d say that she didn’t (though I never, ever want her to say it unless it’s true).

Having this conversation allowed me to frame up something that’s probably second nature to a lot of experienced submissives. Now that the words have formed in my head, it seems so obvious that I can’t believe I’ve never said it before in quite this way. Basically, I want to suffer for her and I want her to recognize and appreciate that suffering.

“Kinda like my own personal Jesus,” she said.

Depeche Mode? That was unexpected. “Yeah,” I sad, “Guess so.” What else should I expect from the Catholic school girl?

Nearly everything I want in our sexual relationship eventually gets back to this. The orgasm denial, the pain, the bondage – all of it. For me, that suffering is a demonstration of my love. The more she asks me to suffer, the more I’m able to show her how much she means to me. The other night with the ice was perfect in that she went beyond where I was comfortable (the “easy” pain) and really and truly pushed me. It hurt. And I was thrilled. Not having orgasms is the same kind of demonstration, though it’s a longer, slower burn. I don’t think until last night she really appreciated how hard not coming is. She said she could go months without orgasm and not really feel a difference, but for me, it’d be rough. Unlike her body, mine continues to produce hormones and fluids and is designed to expel them regularly. There are chemicals my brain will only make after an orgasm that help keep me in balance. Plus, I can feel actual pain from not releasing. I assumed she knew all these things, but I think she thought not coming just made me hornier. Yes, it does, but it’s so much more than that. And I want and am willing to experience these things for her.

She shot back, quite rightly, that I wanted to feel these things, right? They give me a perverse pleasure. I like the whole pain and suffering thing. So surely it’s not all about genuflecting for her. My response is, of course it isn’t. I do need to get something out of the relationship. Being submissive doesn’t mean I don’t want to experience gratification, it just means I get it from different places. This, I think, is the common denominator of all relationships. Mutual gratification.

Which, of course, gets us back to the beginning of this post. I’m not sure we resolved anything specific during the conversation, but we surely moved some heavy boxes around. I’m glad we talked and I’m glad my friend gave us the little shove we needed to get the ball rolling.

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Good news for Thumper from the NYTimes?

The NYTimes magazine had a fascinating article this weekend about female sexuality. Turns out, most sex researchers have historically been male so most of them have been focusing on men (shocking). Also, since men’s sex is hanging right there for all to see and seems to be uncomplicatedly and directly connected to his reptilian brain, it’s also fair to call such research “low-hanging fruit” (not to be confused with Jeff Stryker, of course). But now, there’s a new crop of female sex researchers and they’re doing a whole bunch of new stuff in the field of whatgetsherhotology.

To wit: A researcher named Meredith Chivers showed women images of men having sex with men, men having sex with women, women doing other women, a single female working out, a hot guy ambling naked down the beach, and some monkey’s getting it on (just to fuck with their heads, I guess). Then, she had them indicate on a keypad how hot each image made them while at the same time sticking a little thingamajig up their vaginae to measure what was going on down south. Turns out, the women almost always indicated they were not turned on by images that made their pussies flush with blood.

[W]ith the women, especially the straight women, mind and genitals seemed scarcely to belong to the same person.

Tell me about it. Jesus, that explains so much. They could have stopped right there and over 20 years of vainly trying to understand women would have ended with vindication. But wait, it gets better.

Much later in the article, another researcher named Marta Meana used a Cirque du Soleil performance of “Zumanity” (which is apparently nothing more than athletically impressive live-action soft-core porn) to make this assessment:

For women, “being desired is the orgasm,” Meana said somewhat metaphorically — it is, in her vision, at once the thing craved and the spark of craving. About the dynamic at “Zumanity” between the audience and the acrobats, Meana said the women in the crowd gazed at the women onstage, excitedly imagining that their bodies were as desperately wanted as those of the performers.

And then a little later on:

The generally accepted therapeutic notion that, for women, incubating intimacy leads to better sex is, Meana told me, often misguided. “Really,” she said, “women’s desire is not relational, it’s narcissistic” — it is dominated by the yearnings of “self-love,” by the wish to be the object of erotic admiration and sexual need. Still on the subject of narcissism, she talked about research indicating that, in comparison with men, women’s erotic fantasies center less on giving pleasure and more on getting it. “When it comes to desire,” she added, “women may be far less relational than men.”

Excuse me while I do a little happy dance.

OK, back. Didja happen to notice the parts I bolded, underlined, and italicized? (What, too subtle?)

Obviously, that kind of thinking plays right into my plan for world domination. I am all about Belle Fille’s pleasure. She is the epicenter of my “erotic admiration and sexual need”. In fucking spades.

I’m not saying my Belle is the same as “women” in these studies. Each person is like a snowflake, etc. But it’s awfully encouraging to see a possible physiological connection between the way I am and wish to relate to her and the way she may be wired-up internally.

Oh, and as for the part about why the womens’ responses disagreed with their snatches? Read the article. It’s full of *ahem* juicy tidbits like that one.