Tuesday, 29 July 2014

My 'Naked' Truth

This is a little something I wrote on FetLife.

I've been reading. Yes, that happens, but what I want to write about is this: My 'Naked' Truth. It's about a mature woman who gets turned down by a potential lover because she's "too wrinkly". And why do I want to write about this? Because it resonated with me.

I've been unsure about my appearance for as long as I can remember. Growing up, I can't remember a moment I felt beautiful, ever. Until I met my love, who showed me how beautiful I was to him. All was well with me and the world, and I basked in his love.

Unfortunately, we don't live in fairy tales and our Happily Ever After, wasn't. And here is where that article comes in.
I truly believed that whenever I'd start dating, seeing other men, they would react like that Dave. I was convinced they'd judge me as being too old, too flabby, too wrinkly, too plain. I anticipated looks of disappointment and downright disgust. I never saw anything of the kind. Now, granted, I haven't started dating yet, but I have played, I've been undressed with men, they have seen me, and I saw them looking at me. I saw no disappointment, no disgust. What I did see was excitement, pleasure, looks of concentration, amusement at my reactions, people having fun. And that when my play partners all have been younger than me.
It definitely helps me feeling good about myself, and slightly silly about my apprehensions.

So tell me, how come it’s all been so nice for me?

Is it that kinksters care less about appearances than vanilla’s? Do they look for/at different things? Have I just been very lucky? Is that Dave the exception and are most men nicer than he is? Am I more attractive than I give myself credit for? OK, if you never met me, you don’t have to try to answer that last question.

I do feel better about the prospect of dating ever again though. Thank you gentlemen (you know who you are).

Crime and Punishment

No, nothing to do with the legal system, but I was in trouble.
Remember my post about Andrew and orgasm control? That is hot! Listening to him on the phone, me begging him for release, him telling me to cum for him, my body reacting to his voice: that is great, I love it. But then there's also the orgasm denial, where he will tell me I'm not allowed to cum and where no amount of begging or pleading will make him change his mind. I do not love that part, I can tell you.

But of course orgasm denial was part of the deal as well. And not only was I not allowed to cum, we also chatted about that daily, with me pleading and Andrew making me tell him how hard it was for me and what I felt. He also told me that I would be punished, if I dared cum without permission. Yes, he was setting me up for failure, I knew that at the time. He is seeing how far he can push me and what I am prepared to take from him. But I was coping: not happy, but coping.

This had been going on for what, a week? And then, one day, I was chatting with Luke and told him. Of course he was amused, he would be! And to "help" me, he pointed me to some porn he thought I'd like. Mind you, I was already thoroughly frustrated by this time, I didn't dare touch myself because that would surely set me off, and Luke made sure I got worked up even more. But when I went to bed I was still in control.

That night I woke up because I was orgasming. Yep, you read that right, I woke up because I was cumming. You know, there was that very vivid dream, I came, and I woke up. And when I did wake up, was I touching myself? Was I masturbating? No, not at all. I had been behaving so beautifully, and all for nothing. If only I hadn't woken up, but I had.

In the morning I texted Andrew, confessing what had happened. He told me to contact Luke, to ask him to punish me. Yes, that's right, he had me ask for it. And I did.

It took some time to get it sorted, since Luke was quite busy. In fact, it was several weeks before I was punished. As you can imagine, my nerves were playing up. Even though Luke had said it would be funishment, not punishment, because my offence was unintentional, it would be painful. The only difference would be in the mindset. And of course, Luke is into giving pain.

Painful it was, terrible, glorious, awesome, awful, wonderful. There was more pain than I ever thought I could deal with, but I took it, all of it. I never soared higher than after that session, and my high lasted for days. During the session I wasn't thinking of Luke, but of Andrew, and the pictures I posted of my markings were for Andrew, not for Luke or me.

At some point Luke called Andrew my Dom, and I wanted to say: "No, he is not my Dom," but I couldn't get those words out, because I suddenly realised that, yes, he is my Dom now. That is how I call him, and I call myself his sub. Just like that.


Judgement, being judged, weighed and found wanting. I've felt judged all my life, and yes, I always felt wanting.

I never felt I was a good enough daughter, sister, student, employee, wife, mother, aunt, friend: you name it. And some people came out and said those things to me. Sometimes I could laugh about it, other times it hurt me. People telling me I was a bad wife for not using my husband's last name? That was worth a chuckle at most. People telling me I was a bad mother for not being a SAHM? That hurt.
At some point you find out that you can't please everybody anyway, and it gets a bit easier, hopefully.

When I was young, there was no such thing as the pill, and it wasn't freely available until the time I started university. Up until that time, being engaged in sex meant having a large probability of a pregnancy. And since it's the girl that gets pregnant, and not the boy, it was on her to behave correctly. That was the message all of our society let me know. Sex was only for married couples, it led to babies, and unmarried girls who had sex were sluts and not very smart. Or as my father would say: "She is a nice enough girl, but I don't want her as the mother of my children." Oh, the irony. Men can have fun with girls like that and still be good enough to become a father, but the girl isn't good enough to be a mother.
But yeah, the pill and penicillin meant I could have sex without worrying about pregnancies or STD's, and I did, and I loved it! And I felt guilty for loving it without even being married, and learned to love it even more.

I met my loved one, we clicked, sexually as well, and were happy. He loved that I was enthusiastic about sex, until he didn't any more.
He changed the rules. And I scrambled to find out what the new rules were. I asked him: got no answer, started to improvise: no success, suggested therapy: big failure. I wanted this to work so bad, I loved him so much, I needed him so.
I felt judged as I never had before. When I saw him looking at me, I thought I heard him think: "Too old, too fat, too eager." And still I wanted to work it out, and still I was met only by silence and denial, no matter how much I asked, begged, cried or, yes, screamed.
So I ended it. I had no options left: either I ended it or I would be miserable for ever. Enough was enough.

So growing up I learned to never be promiscuous, in my marriage I learned that wanting sex too much was wrong: is it any wonder that I don't like being called a slut? That word has so many negative connotations for me.

Only I now do behave like what I would call a slut, and I'm embarrassed about it. This isn't me! I never did this, this is wrong, I must stop. But I don't want to stop, and I'm not hurting anyone, and I would not judge others who behave like this, but I do judge myself. And I find myself wanting. Always harder on myself than on others.

In the meantime the two guys I'm involved with call me a slut, and like me for it. They want me to feel proud to be a slut. I want to feel proud as well, but it's so hard. A life time of conditioning can't be swept away in weeks or even months.

I'm working on it.