SEX! SEX! SEX!

Right, I think that this post is about sex… (okay I KNOW it is about sex). Therefore everything is after the page break. If you aren’t comfortable reading about sex then go HAVE some. I do reference rape below, but there is no detail so I do not feel this needs a trigger warning in the actual post title. If I am wrong, drop me a comment and I WILL fix that.

Today I had the strangest feeling in my body. You see the wheelchair actually allows me MORE feeling. It’s amazing but being able to sit up straight enough to get some nerve signals down below has funny effects. My stomach area feels really odd but in a good way. It took me a bit of snarking to realize I am in a swirl of emotions I rarely feel. Horniness, anger, and that wild feeling when I just want to run around and bite people. Oh wait that last one is how I always want to express horniness.

I masturbate regularly but there are certain levels of urge that masturbation just doesn’t fix. I also can’t always orgasm. This is due to the injury in my back, because before hand I never had much issue reaching those euphoric moments. Since my back broke however I have had to relearn sex. There are some moments of regret in my life regarding sex itself. One such moment is prizing my virginity too highly. Raised by nut jobs who believe that a woman’s worth is in her womb and sellable value, I tried to keep all of the parts that I was taught were worth anything pristine, around the whole being raped by my father thing. I was taught to hate my body and to find my vagina disgusting. My labia and vulva too.

My first orgasm came the first night I lived alone. I had the same sensation in my belly I do right now. Somewhere between butterflies and a wild cat. I was exhausted, tired, and in pain. I thought the pain was related to my wanting sex. I lay in my bed trying to sleep and realized I had to do SOMETHING. I began to explore my body, and I found that the sensations of my body when treated kindly were not just pleasant but very much calming. I let myself imagine a sexual fantasy, and I had to work hard to keep myself from interrupting to slut shame. After all “decent” young women would never do this right?

The moment I touched my clit I exploded. It wasn’t fireworks. It wasn’t a giant wave. There is no romance novel euphimism. My body felt like someone had plugged it into the wall. I was unable to keep still and wound up knocking over a bookshelf, which hit a pile of boxes which hit my window. That’s right. My first orgasm was so amazing I broke things.Ā  I felt for the first time in my life what may be relaxed. I am not sure as conscious relaxation is something that I cannot achieve and have never managed. Trying to let my muscles go means great pain, and mentally there is no stopping thought merely redirecting it. I am even aware I am dreaming and can change my dreams some of the time because of how my brain works.

I felt embarassed a few moments later when some very male voices along with some very loud pounding knocked at my door. My neighbors wanted to know if I was okay. Since I was noisy I am sure they also knew I had been enjoying the physical pleasures of this world. (I know this because when they had sex, I could hear EVERYTHING). I told them I was fine and had tripped. They went away. I went from relaxed to terrified. All of the lies my mother told me about sex pouring into my mind.

There was no turning back for me. I had to confront my belief system about sex. I spent a few days waiting for flashbacks that never came, for pain that wasn’t there. All the horror stories of masturbation turned out to be lies. I wasn’t relieved but instead felt that now old familiar sense of betrayal, my mother had lied. Of course she had. Her lies firmly cemented her into the role of the eternal victim. Saint Mother Dearest, who does no wrong and only is given pain.

At this point in time I was a fledgling about to burst into life. I was about to live rapidly, hard, and I was also going to keep my first set of secrets from my mother. That very week at my job I met a customer that made me feel strange feelings, and would lead me into a world that I could not escape. I don’t think that’s a bad thing either.

Maybe it was my shoes, maybe it was my skirt. Maybe it was my garter belt that peaked out when I bent over. I know he watched me get things off of shelves. A business traveller who was open about his objectification of my body. I was in my most grown up outfit (one I still have in fact) and I could feel his eyes on me. After he made his purchase (1000 or so dollars) he walked away. I thought nothing of him but was a bit disconcerted when he returned and handed me a business card, on the back was an address. “I would like to pay you to dominate me.”

“What?!” I probably should have called security, I was instantly afraid. What the heck was he talking about. I think he could see in my face, which usually gives away exactly what I feel anyway, that I was confused and afraid. “I haven’t found a good Dominatrix in the area.” He wrote down a website, asked if I had internet (7 years ago most in the area did not) and he also added, “I’ll pay you well.” Money for sex? Not at all.

I held that card for three days, I researched beyond the website he gave me and when I called I said “I have nothing to wear.” He laughed and said he would fix that. This is also how I found out my love of leather and corsets. The smell of it. The feel of a corset. It hugs my body. It felt like armor against all of my fears. The first time that I went to dominate someone there was another Dominatrix there. She taught me how to dress, the red yellow green safe word system, and also showed me that being a Domme has nothing to do with sex.

She thought it was odd he would choose to induct a person into the role of Domme first. A dominant in the local culture that I experienced usually is shown how to submit first. When I was told that I made it clear, I do not submit. It may be how I said it, but there were never arguements, questions, or pressures. I felt fulfilled. My second girlfriend, and the woman that I lost my virginity to also took part in this culture. She took me from making ends meet via domination into the romance side of things.

I miss her. She is my first love. I remember her scent, her taste, and I remember feeling as if I was sneaking out. I remember when that feeling stopped. I remember too that my doubts about my sexuality, more of my mother’s lies, melted away with her. Things felt perfect. Of course we had our flaws, and eventually that relationship ended because we grew in different directions.

I miss being a Dominatrix. There is something with in those acts, definately taboo by the standards that I was raised by, that fulfilled me. There was nothing that screamed abuse in the relationships, there are things I won’t do for a submissive and things I won’t ask them to do for me either. I also learned with in the world of BDSM that I can choose my mate, that I can say no, and the seeds were planted for me to understand that sex does not have to be painful, though pain can be pleasure.

I dated several women after my first love, though it took time. I almost proposed to her. As with all of my serious relationships I did not bother telling family. I say I cannot keep a secret but I can from my family. I had to give up the BDSM life, I thought it was temporary. You see I injured my back and my other disabilities that my mother had so graciously (yes this is bitter snarking) hidden from me were dragging me down. I even had to sell my corsets and toys. I did this to try and pay rent. I did this to try and avoid having to ask for help from my mother.

There is nothing quite so good as having your emotional needs met. That is what BDSM means to me. That is why I am considering giving things a go even though my body is not where it once was. I don’t know that I can trust enough yet. There has been a lot of pain between that moment of youth finding life and now. I am older, probably no wiser, but at least aware of my own needs.

I dated men, and found that kissing in general is better with women. With men I tend to vomit. This does not go over well when dating. Usually it’s a relationship killer. I had little experience with them when I met M. M is the first man I have actually loved, and M and I are just friends. There is a struggle with in me at times but M is a cuddler, and I can’t. I have never found cuddling to be a pleasant experience, and with my body it usually means horrible pain. M also has emotional needs I don’t feel up to meeting. He isn’t a needy guy, I am just not the “marrying” type. This means that the long term relationship, the give and take, there are parts I cannot do. This does not mean he is out to settle down and get married. M taught me I could trust men. M taught me to not be afraid of men.

HIM undid some of that, but with HIM and the lies he told for four years out of our five year relationship, I had no way of knowing that HIM also had needs I couldn’t meet. I couldn’t meet them because I am not a small child so that’s fine. On the outside I met his needs and he met mine. My doubts were easily written off as my fears of long term relationships. I have always feared that I would marry a bad person. I always feared I wouldn’t be able to leave them.

I had sex with HIM of course, and explored the needs of my body and accomodation. I found water beds are amazing things for sex. There are also toys that I can use that fulfill some of my physical urges without having to risk exposing my back. Even if I trust my partner fully I do not want my back exposed. I do have some desires however where a hands and knees position (on a pile of pillows) is the best for fulfilment. HIM taught me a great deal about how to love my body while fornicating.

I ran into a connundrum with sex too, the system I was raised in you can only lose your virginity to a male. I tried to come to grips with this mentally and determined that for every act, position or new experience there is a level of freshness therefore virginity doesn’t matter. HIM wanted to claim it, so I didn’t argue.

I also learned when the act ended with HIM that my ability to say no remained. Sex can be amazingly wonderful. Part of this post is something that shouldn;’t shock many. I think I may start dating again. I’ve asked some questions about it. I don’t know that I want to use the internet. There is the risk of running into a devotee (HIM was one), there is the risk of the lying and entrapment culture, and there is the matter of my very real love for “other people” being an issue in any relationship. I am afraid too.

Still, I think of all the wonderful sex that I have had and I can’t help but want more. After all, if I can have orgasms that break windows I should do so often right?

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19 Comments

  1. It sounds like BDSM helped create a safe place for you, where there are boundaries, and safety and consent, which results in trust. Would keeping dating casual, so that you go out with a number of people with the goal of fun rather than commitment help? Or do you prefer to stick with one or two people and build trust with them?

  2. Absolutely! It’s really annoying to see so many taboos surrounding feminine masturbation, but when men do it, they get a pat on the back and “You’re a MAN” comments. Also, good “decent” girls don’t masturbate. They use romance novels šŸ™‚

    Brave writing!

  3. I admire you, Katyrena. I was shamed for my desire for women too, but my way of dealing with it was to suppress it as much as possible. I’ve dated a few women but usually had to be drinking to even kiss them because I was so afraid of what other people would think of me. Like your throwing up after kissing men, that’s not exactly the best situation for a relationship! But I’m glad that you have been able to overcome your shaming upbringing, and not only find love with someone also, but also with yourself.

  4. I understand that fear completely. In this world as it stands not being straight can be deadly. That sometimes leads me to having fear reactions when I am caught looking at a woman. (I admit fully that the wheelchair hides some of my most blatant ogling though). Don’t give up on loving yourself in all ways. You may have Manpants now, but you can still accept your bisexuality.

    Also what you describe is, I think the biggest cause of homosexuals marrying straight people. It’s too frightening to not pretend, so the sacrifice of happiness seems a less painful offering to the gods of Privilege than it really is.

  5. Honestly, I hadn’t thought of that aspect of BDSM. I do like boundaries and in all relationships remind people of them. This has had a few people jokingly say I am X organization’s Dominatrix. Most of the time I just try to not burst out laughing at that but I don’t think I hide my need for structure very well at all.

    I think both casual dating and the right people to build trust with work, it depends on the individuals involved honestly. It also depends on how much trust I can muster for strangers. At this point I think a more intimate bond is necessary because of how vulnerable I have been feeling. I would not want to risk self injury (emotionally or physically) because I panic at the wrong moment and cannot explain to someone I don’t know very well WHY X or Y has caused Z to happen.

  6. I actually dislike romance novels. Partly because most romances have too much kissing and way too much penis worship.

    “His gigantic throbbing tumescence gleamed in the moonlight…” and cue my gagging.

    If I read a romance novel I skip the sex scenes.

    I think the taboo on female sexuality in general is why any searches for orgasm assistance and spinal cord injury bring up studies about the penis. I have been looking for a very long time and there is only one study which was about orgasms in general that touches on the subject of female orgasm at all. The pleasure of the female body is seen as an after thought, as is the freedom of the female mind.

    I found the taboo in regards to me personally has doubled since I stopped hiding my disability. I had one store that sells vibrators and toys throw me out for using my walker. (I filed a formal complaint and now they just get embarassed when I go and oooh over new toys every so often.)

    I have also had a few caregivers who couldn’t stand making my bed because I don’t hide my toys. Why shove them in a pillow for THEIR comfort when that means it’s a pain in many ways to then retrieve them when I am alone? Instead they are out of the way but visible.

    The latest now ex caregiver had the most issues with this though she still did the work, she often resorted to verbal shaming. I think this contributed to her being let go. (I hadn’t gotten to that point yet, just asking for verbal reprimands.).

    I also want to know what makes someone manly via orgasming? Spewing gross smelling stickiness everywhere is manly?! I know plenty of men who don’t have the ability to ejaculate (due to SCI or other issues) and they are still men…

    Then again female orgasm is also only allowed if it is to pleasure the man as well. It’s so confusing blah!

  7. What I meant was how ‘masturbating’ is seen as a ‘man-thing’ to do. For example, if a guy is talking to his friends about porn, it seems “normal”. If a girl does that, she’s a “slut” for watching porn.

    Romance novels are an outlet for women to explore their sexuality. I was just pointing out that “decent” girls use romance novels to masturbate. I’ve seen SO MANY women read romance novels in buses, trains with expressions that suggest they’re mentally snacking on crack-cookies. Somehow, that’s okay. Going to a sex shop and looking at toys is not. Sexist double standards anyone?

  8. Kat, forgive a fellow abused Christian child, now a sex freak, educated mostly with porn and still too terrified to follow his heart for asking…but what’s a “devotee”?

  9. No need to ask forgiveness,I wasn’t sure I should actually even talk about that. A Devotee for the disabled is a person that wishes for disability, feels incomplete without it and sexualises to an extreme level persons in chairs. Some will try and get hit by a train to become an amputee (the most common form) and they fake needing a wheelchair. Their entire life revolves around their obsession and sexual fetish with disability. I find this creepy personally, because anything that causes actual pain, scarring, or maiming is ick in the bedroom for me.

    Also, the term sex freak rarely applies to people, for me the only sex freaks are the devotees. Most sexual desires actually fall with in a fairly narrow parameter. There are studies, my favored being the Kinsey study, that actually show most people have very similar desires. Don’t allow the repression you experienced growing up to miscolor your desires. Hopefully this helps you find more freedom, this information helped me on a logical level but emotionally I still get a bit shaky.

  10. Ah, normally I wouldn’t call myself a freak, but it is a term others have used for me, and it’s faster than saying the truth. I will continue to be repressed until I get out the military, as I really need this job. (I’m not gay. Many people don’t realize DADT applies to every possible alternative union you could imagine. Oral sex, for instance is forbidden by the UCMJ)

    As to Devotees…Whats the line then? Is it OK for a man to be attracted to you because you overcome so much as long as he doesn’t make a kink out your symptoms? Because I find your strength beautiful and magnetic, and (maybe this is unhealthy?) I feel like physically disabled women are rare, and their position in society is precarious, so to friended by one is an honor saying: “I am less able than most, but still I trust you.”

  11. I think the line comes when you see me as a hot wheelchair instead of a person. I’d say it is still a form of ableism with some mental health issues. Another part of the line is the need to be wounded and in pain. I don’t think Devoteeism is out and out “evil” as others may feel but I do think it is a sign that a person is in some serious trouble mentally, though I am not an expert.

    The line for me, is always when people are suddenly not people. What you describe is being attracted to my personality, not the spinal injury.

  12. Good. I hate being the creepy guy. šŸ™‚ So long as I am not then…I think you are really lovely and have a beautiful mind. Thanks for writing.

  13. Thank you for the compliment, and no I don’t think you are the creepy guy. I would’ve said so.

  14. Well, a last word then. Again you’ve inspired me to write a post, this time about both sex and you.

    http://rageomatic.wordpress.com/2010/06/03/sex-body-image-bbw-and-disabled-friends/

    If it makes you feel weird, tell me in the comment field, and I’ll delete it. It’s just about my growth as person, and how being attracted to you figured into that.

  15. Okay, when you do feel free to post a link here, so that the posts are connected.

  16. Um…I did post the link, in my above comment.

  17. Sorry, I was half asleep when reading that and totally missed the giant red URL hanging over your words. I shall read and comment!

  18. fuck you man

  19. No thanks.


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