Rough Sex

Novacane

“I no longer need you to fuck me as hard as I hated myself.” – Buddy Wakefield

I remembered this as I lay underneath someone recently, my body being dragged and used any which way. And I felt old and worn down by the whole thing.

I used to adore rough,aggressive sex. I would like to believe I still do and that time, it just wasn’t done right, or it wasn’t with the right person, or I wasn’t in the right mood.

Something.

Something simply wasn’t right.

The next morning, the bruises that I used to look at with pride were an annoyance. As were the bite marks and any sign, really, that the act had occurred.

I realized, there’s an art to rough sex.

You can feel the difference between a lover who ravages you, while still being mindful and making sure that you’re both satisfied and comfortable, and one who simply wants to use you like a rag doll.

And possibly, when I first realized that I was a sub, before I knew what I know now, I let some lovers release their frustrations and use me as a stress ball because I felt that was how affection and appreciation was shown. Maybe because I thought one could FIND affection in the one who brings them peace, whatever the reason, I can no longer recall it and so see no reason to let it continue.

My views on sexual performance are pretty simple:

If I’m getting naked for you, appreciate it and treat my body well. 

If you get naked for me, I appreciate it and will treat your body well.

Experience has taught me that we don’t all view it the same way.  Possibly due to the fact that sex is so easily attainable and people seem to value exclusivity, most feel no need to make it a memorable experience for their partner, even if it’s just for one night.

Sex is usually really a trial run for me anyway, but even during that trial run, one gives their all. I don’t believe in the “It’s only once so it doesn’t REALLY have to be good” excuse.

If you want to be bad in bed, go fuck yourself.

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Make it Nasty: Sex And Violence

A hand squeezing tighter around her neck as she attempts to take shallower breaths.  She arches her back and feels the sting of a forming bruise on her backside. Nails dig into the back of her neck as teeth sink into her skin.  She’s roughly pushed further up and her legs shoved apart as the warm breath on her inner thigh signals a presence and as she breathes out “Wait, no..” and whimpers another set of teeth sink into her thigh and a hand reaches up to choke her again as another slaps her across the face. 

I wouldn’t be shocked  if that image turned you on.  Rough sex has become more and more appealing to us, leaking into everyday sex scenes and intimate moments on television and in books. The woman abruptly pushed up against a wall in an alley by her lover, roughly grabbed, then kissed.  Such images have made the majority of us crave that kind of raw passion, the lack of control that seems to accompany intense desire. And when you look at it like that, as merely passionate, it’s fine I guess.

But I’ve never really cared much for what’s going on on the surface.

At the height of my infatuation with being used, I felt I was losing control.  The bruises were darker and lasted longer, the bite marks would  draw blood, I’d get choked til I almost passed out and being hit didn’t bother me that much, in fact,  none of these things bothered me at all. I wanted to understand why.

Yes, I was into BDSM, sure, I liked rough sex, but why didn’t I have limits? Why wasn’t I scared to hurt myself by letting others take their frustrations out on me sexually?

On the surface I decided it could simply be Desire. I found it appealing, so I wanted it.

Underneath that, daddy issues. My father was a cold man and so I was intimate with men who could hurt me with my consent, thus creating a balance between their affection [sex] and rejection and pain.

Beneath that, society. When did we decide the abuse of women  is appealing? No, this has nothing to do with those who willingly walk into it and accept it, this is about those who are coaxed into believing it’s for any and every woman.

Two things happened last week that triggered this.

1) A lady on Twitter asked why we found violence appealing in the case of phone sex, or rather that was the example she used.  Things like “I want to destroy your pussy”, “I’m going to leave you a mess, unable to even move or speak”, “I wanna ravage your ass” are in actual fact, rather violent statements.  If you are so affectionate, why is it that you show it by seemingly “destroying” me? What, love is pain?

2)I came across a Tumblr post by a Lady who said she wanted to prove that we find women more appealing when bloodied and bruised, and dear God, I’m ashamed to say she was right.  She was pretty when she was plain, but her ragged picture afterwards was just so darn attractive. And that scared me.

There’s a certain yearning in the eyes of women who want to be hurt in any way possible.  Women who’ve accepted their reality as everyone else’s punching bag and have decided to roll with the punches, seek them out even.

We live in a society that’s saturated with images of violence and pain that it would be shocking if we hadn’t become desensitized to it and romanticized it.

It’s like Russian roulette every time you have that scarf around your throat, it could go either way and that’s part of the thrill. But do you know that?

Do you know that possibly, you aren’t satisfying your desires but being the cloth someone else leaves their frustrations on? And you helplessly yet willingly walk into these situations because it’s where you feel you need to be, what you need to have.

We’re led to believe we should want to be thrown about like rag dolls and we should think certain behaviours romantic but I call Bullshit.  I personally am extremely uncomfortable with it. Being pulled towards someone, having someone pin me up against a wall, anyone who I haven’t given prior consent doing things they think I’ll like .

Is it supposed to be non threatening because it’s someone that you know?  Because for me it’s all scary. Why would it be okay because it’s someone you have a platonic relationship with shoving you down and kissing you even though you didn’t want it? Because at least it wasn’t a stranger? It’s a stranger to your body,no?

The fact that we’ve romanticized being overpowered and imposed  this on people means many people don’t know where to draw the line between rapey behaviour and what they actually find sexy.

I’m saying we need to think sometimes about why we want certain things rather than just go with it. Especially if what you think you like constantly feels odd to you somehow.

Sometimes who/what we think we are is merely a product of our environment and not truly Us. And the sooner you know, the better.

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For 4 years after I lost my virginity I had vanilla sex. It was all I knew. The thought of anything else used to scare me shitless. I thought rough sex would be crude, bordering on abusive and just downright uncomfortable. I pictured it as a rape scene. Being tied up,even spanked,seemed brutal. I was convinced I’d be making slow,sensual love for the rest of my Life. Lord,was I wrong.

Sexual discovery is a beautiful thing and it’s funny how the tiniest of things,a comment from a friend, a tweet, a suggestion from a lover, can completely switch up your sexual preferences. For me,my ex deserves most of the credit,though I’m not sure he knows how far it went.

He showed me the wonders of pain and how the right amount,at the right time could make sex that much better. It was gradual..Light spanking..which became harder..the sex rougher..More intense..eventually the biting came in..then the tying up and eventually the choking. Ladies and Gentlemen,this was my introduction to BDSM.

Now at this point I didn’t know what it was. As far as I was concerned,my partner and I just had bomb ass sex. It had nothing to do with fetishes. I was not a freak. It just,was. Months later,after everything was done, and I was moving on I realized,I was incapable of enjoying “basic” sex as I had before..foreplay,missionary,cowgirl,doggie,finish was NOT doing it for me. I spent time hyping myself up for sex,and faking orgasms and regretting ever consenting to such BS.

I had no idea what was up.

Fast forward to a couple of months later..Drunk Sex Season is what I like to call that period in my Life.. Loud,vocal,rowdy sessions with male friends and attractive strangers…I found it easier then to say what I desired since I realized most of them were quite simple in their sexual desires and what they considered wild,I considered foreplay.

I had to ease them into it. As much as men say they want a “freak”,if the first thing you say is “Bend me over,blindfold and gag me,bind my arms then spank me til my ass goes numb,and only then can you fuck me.” most would be a tad bit freaked out. It was gradual for them,as it was for me,and  I understood they were not about that Life and was not trying to initiate or recruit in any way. This was the beginning of acceptance of the fact that I,was into BDSM. And it was nothing like what I’d been led to believe.

It was hard for a bit. I tried to psychoanalyze myself and figure out WHY I’d enjoy such so much. Having friends who were not in the community and couldn’t really get past it’s misconceptions wasn’t helpful either,but I decided,this was as it was.

I had found something that fulfilled me way more than most people around me could comprehend. The intensity of the sex, pushing yourself to,and past limits you thought you could never transcend,the trust [because why would you let someone you don’t know like that choke you?]..It felt like,an awakening. And I decided I’d stay..Besides,I had no choice,my body wouldn’t let me go back to what many considered the norm.

This was,my Initiation,so to speak…Now I have a saying “If I don’t have bruises after we’re done,it never happened.”

Next came my acceptance of the fact that I am,in actual fact, submissive…

[To Be Continued]

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