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Nebulous

March 28, 2009
tags: ,

I have about eight million almost-finished drafts waiting to be posted, but this is the one that’s skipping in line.

A lot of elements about my dominance and my sadism have been connecting and bouncing off each other, and reconnecting, and shifting, and the new pattern is altogether less linear, frightening, and unknown.

The catalyst: I was masturbating today. I had spent the noon-time building up the fantasy, which leads to not bigger, not stronger, but more satisfactory orgasms. I thought I would have the space to myself, but someone came in and was working in another room. I was quiet, and continued. Events had progressed too far to go back. Orgasm. Small, sharp, satisfactory.

Wondering: Maybe I’ll try for orgasm number two. I haven’t tried that in a while.

I exhausted myself trying. The vibrator gets louder as it gets stronger, so I couldn’t just overwhelm my clitoris. Eventually, I just had to stop.

That was the first time since I’ve been able to orgasm that I’ve stopped before fruition. The murky, jabbing emotions of that year of trying so desperately and never being able to finish made me fight to orgasm, to force myself if necessary, every time. I couldn’t feel that desperation, that need again.

But this time I didn’t.

I dropped.

I became extremely grouchy, and endeavored to keep my prickly self away from others.

I felt bad, I felt icky, I was disgusted by my fantasies and that their sordid content was the only way I could be aroused. I had to physically stop walking and say aloud, “This is drop. This is not who you are. You’ve had a cold, you haven’t eaten, and you were limited by circumstances. Don’t let this become something it isn’t.”

In the ensuing grouchiness, I made myself a meal, and put this latest experience in the pattern of a dawning realization that when I drop after orgasm, I feel shame. I feel ashamed of my fantasies, and disgusted with myself for having them. Then the next realization: I still have a lot of shame to work through about my sexuality. Finally admitting and exploring my sexuality do not negate a decade, a decade and a half, a short lifetime of repression and shame. They can’t.

The single greatest example of this is that I split myself. I had to become two people, sadist and healer, in order to be myself at all.

And what has made it all so much harder is that my understanding of how my sexuality came to be, seems to support my shame. By that understanding I can take ownership of my sexuality, but my sexuality would not have been the way it is if I had not been domineered so utterly by men as a child. I’ve realized that I’ve been treating my sexuality like a scar; incurable, untreatable, inevitable, and to be made the best of. Like a limp that would never go away but I could use to dance in a different, equally beautiful way.

But then something shifted when I was reading, and something occurred to me, and I dropped it like a stone to hot to handle. It’s been floating in and out of my mind for weeks.

What if, what if, what if the way I was domineered as a child did not form my sexuality, but only shaped my expression of it?

I don’t know if that’s true. It terrifies me that it might be, because what if that’s only what I want to believe because I don’t want to live with the burden of a scar?

I told someone that I’ve tried combining the sadist and the healer in fantasies. I haven’t yet found anything that feels natural. Yet they keep knocking at each other like two pieces trying to fit back together.

And this, just one bubble floating in a boil of exploration of what violence means in the relationships of the real world, not the world as fractured by civilization, what pain means in the relationships of the real world, not the world fractured by civilization, what dominance and submission mean in the real world, not our world fractured, so brutally shredded, by civilization.

What did violence mean to humans, to non-humans, before we domesticated the first seeds, before we decided to stand still and plant them around us, before we twisted violence from a sacred relationship into a tool to take more than we could ever want, more than we could ever need? What did pain mean when it was a gift, and a way of learning, and a sensation before we twisted it into a tool to take more than we could ever want, ever need? What did dominance, and what did submission mean when they were relationships and gifts, and not twisted into tools to take more than we could want, could need, and give nothing back?

I’ve been realizing that I have yet to incorporate my dominance into myself. It’s still cordoned off, still has a couple of maximum security doors with codes and keys between it and the rest of me, and the rest of the world. It’s still chained by a button– on, or off. In contemplating my markers as a dominant woman this has become very clear to me. My dominance is not integrated into me; my sexuality has not yet become a part of how I live.

I am scared and confused, and I think I may have just made a breakthrough.

12 Comments leave one →
  1. March 28, 2009 6:37 am

    For all my years of actively knowing my submission (since the age of 4 or so), I am just beginning to explore it in new ways myself. Sara Eileen was the first person with whom I felt genuinely submissive in a fulfilling way. Now, with her dominant presence absent, I’m discovering that more of my submission was in me than I thought it was, not tied to the prerequisite of having a dominant partner around me. This is new, and probably obvious to others, and how can I be so well-attuned to myself and still miss so much evidence about who I am?

    But y’know…you’re right. Decades of cultural molding can’t be undone by intellectualizing it. Although, lazily, I really (really) wish it could.

  2. ranat permalink*
    March 28, 2009 3:00 pm

    “Now, with her dominant presence absent, I’m discovering that more of my submission was in me than I thought it was, not tied to the prerequisite of having a dominant partner around me.”

    I think you bring up a really good point about people in counterpart relationship dynamics. Very often, one counterpart gets defined by contrast to the other. When I was reading some femme blogs, Sublime Femme brought up this point about Sinclaire’s post on femme markers: What is gender femme in relation to itself, not just in relationship to butch? I think the same holds true for d/s orientations. What is dominant in relationship to itself, not just in relationship to submissive? What is submissive in relationship to itself, not just in relationship to dominant? For a more mainstream example, I think most sane people understand that in the binary gender system you can’t define women only in relationship to men, and you can’t define men only in relationship to women. Well, I think most sane people should understand that. I don’t know if it’s actually true.

    Who am I as a dominant, and just a dominant, not necessarily in relation to a submissive partner? How does my sexuality manifest itself in, and therefore become a part of, my life, and not just in a situation with a submissive partner?

    “Decades of cultural molding can’t be undone by intellectualizing it. Although, lazily, I really (really) wish it could.”

    Yeah.

  3. April 10, 2009 12:11 am

    About masturbation: I don’t know if anyone has already suggested this. I have some water based lubricant next to our bed which I use in addition to my natural lubrication, for sex for two, and also for masturbating with my fingers. I usually start without and add lube at some point later. It lets my clitoris get the stimulation I need to orgasm, and prevents overstimulation which would make my clitoris irritated instead. Perhaps you would like to try this out?

    About integration: You have to find your own way there, and I think you will find it.

    Some thoughts I can offer: It doesn’t need to be perfect to be good. It is one of our traits along with all the others. Can you feel friendly towards other people who are sadistic and dominant? Can you cultivate this friendly disposition towards yourself as a dominant, sadistic human too?

    For what it’s worth, I think I can reassure you that at least from what I’ve experienced, the practical side of integrating kink into the rest of life can be relatively effortless if you do it with someone you get along with well in general. I found starting to practise kink had joys and difficulties, but the difficulties were about the learning process itself and getting over the habit of repression. Yes, my partner kneels before me, and I beat him and tell him to cry out louder because I want to hear the pain in his voice; and we also bake a cake together, and lie next to each other holding hands.

  4. ranat permalink*
    April 11, 2009 2:44 pm

    @Ranai – I have had lube suggested to me before, but I don’t really need it once I get going. There’s plenty to go ’round. I am also leery of the chemicals in even water-based lubricants. I’m a fan of olive oil myself. It’s the messier, cheaper, better lube.

    Integration is… happening. Very oddly.

  5. April 11, 2009 2:54 pm

    I have had lube suggested to me before, but I don’t really need it once I get going.

    Mostly out of curiosity and for context, have you tried water-based lubes and simply disliked them or have you not yet tried them?

  6. ranat permalink*
    April 12, 2009 1:27 am

    I have not tried them except with lubricated condoms. Did not like that. I just looked at the ingredients list and said, “Oh hell no.”

    And really, why pay gobs of money for a tiny bottle of ‘all natural’ (hah) lube, when there’s a gallon of olive oil for the same price? You can cook with it too, and use it to moisturize your skin.

  7. April 13, 2009 7:01 pm

    I have not tried them except with lubricated condoms. Did not like that. I just looked at the ingredients list and said, “Oh hell no.”

    I’m not a fan of lubricated condoms, either. They are generally sucky.

    That said, I would urge you to reconsider trying some personal lube intended for the purpose of sex. “Don’t knock it ’til you try it” is a phrase that comes to mind.

  8. ranat permalink*
    April 14, 2009 1:04 am

    ““Don’t knock it ’til you try it” is a phrase that comes to mind.”

    Maybe if there’s some already floating around. I try not to buy things if I don’t have to.

    Try the olive oil sometime. It’s a winner. Doesn’t dry up. Oh, and you can give massages with it.

    Can you tell I like multi-functional things? :P

  9. April 14, 2009 6:00 am

    Maybe if there’s some already floating around. I try not to buy things if I don’t have to.

    Try the olive oil sometime.

    How about if I try the olive oil if you try some lube? ;)

  10. ranat permalink*
    April 15, 2009 9:05 pm

    It’s a deal.

Trackbacks

  1. Shit is Fucking Weird « beyond the hills
  2. Journeys Into the Scare-the-Shit-Out-Of-You Unknown « beyond the hills

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