A response to Under The Boot, about kink and arousal.

Since undertheboot is linking this post I wrote last August and now a bunch of people are reading it, I feel like I need to clarify some things about what I said there. 

I wrote the post in a certain frame of mind and under certain circumstances that have changed since then.

Some kinky things do turn me on.  Pushing a boy up against the wall and being rough with him.  Holding the knife to his throat, knowing and letting him know that I lust to cut him.  Imagining licking trails of blood left by my fingernails.  Seeing his dick swell when I hit him, knowing that he hates it even as it arouses him.  Closing my hand around his throat and feeling the thrill of having his life, or death, in my grasp.  Hearing his ragged breath and knowing how much it arouses him, and me, when my ass ripples as he spanks me.  Watching him bend so gracefully, with an attitude of such perfect devotion, over my feet as he kisses them.  Having the freedom to demand the things I want when we’re fucking.  Making him insane with desire and denying him release, seeing how much I can turn him on, how hot he gets for me.  Hearing him beg.  Seeing him cry when I hurt him.

Yeah, kinky shit can definitely get my bits lubricated.  It’s just unfortunate that the first six years of my experience with it didn’t include those aspects.  That’s the whole reason I dropped out of the scene for a while, and it’s one of the reasons I have ended up being so thrilled with Derek, and one of the things I’m excited about exploring with Xel.

 

These other entries I’ve written also touch on the subject in relevant ways: touch-a touch-a touch me ; business or pleasure? ; to drink life ; clip - where’s the passion?

 

Physical.

I scratched him. I violated one of the first limits he ever gave me, and I only have a vague recollection of it. I also bit him so hard that he’s still bruised three days later. And I beat his cock too viciously.

I feel like an asshole. Granted, I only have the vaguest, orgasm-hazed memory of digging my fingers into his back while he pounded me into sweet oblivion with a dildo. But I know better than to break his skin. And I knew how much the other stuff would hurt and that he wouldn’t like it.  But the scratching - that makes me a bad dom.  That makes me less trustworthy.  And that breaks my heart, because violating his trust and hurting him that way is the last thing I ever wanted to do.  And everything else is pointless if he doesn’t feel completely safe giving himself to me. 

…But I have a confession to make:  in my heart of hearts, I like that I scratched him. I don’t like that I did something I had promised I wouldn’t. That part, I hate. But there’s a possessive, primal something in me that loves the idea of clawing, ripping, making a boy bleed. It’s a form of penetration, I think. And the evil, rape-fantasy-having part of me liked the nonconsensuality, the power, his helplessness, the violation inherent in doing something he specifically said not to…

And the biting. And seeing the toothmarks on him. That - that was hot. That was exciting. Satisfying and frustrating at the same time, sensual and sexual and animalistic and physical. The whole encounter was more physical for me than anything I’ve done in a very long time. Physical in the sense of really being engaged, physically present, touching him with more than just my hands, getting closer than I’ve allowed myself to before. And it felt good. It felt so good, and fulfilling. Not to mention the fucking. Which is what I was talking about in the other post, being just what I wanted. But I’ll have to leave the details for later, if at all, as it’s far past time to turn off the computer for the night..

 

I want to be fucked.

I want to be fucked. Really, well, and energetically fucked. Mutual pleasure, and gettting what I want, and that being what the other person wants. Why is that so fucking hard to find? Oh wait, I’m lazy. I guess I can’t really get worked up about not getting worked over when I don’t take any action to get it, eh?

But fucked, yeah. Vigorously, and oh, just like that and don’t stop and do it a little harder.. And don’t come. You want to come though don’t you? And I squeeze you from the inside just to watch the hitch in your breath and the electric-shock look on your face. And the desperation, the conflicting desires.. he wants to come, he needs it, but I’m not ready yet, and I want it harder and faster and just exactly the way that’s going to bring him over the edge…

 

hotness - courtesy of Bitchy Jones

“I’m not stopping him from coming for his benefit but for mine. Only mine. My desire to see him suffer. To see his face twist as he fucks me, trying to keep his strokes hard and regular enough that I scream and screw up the sheets in my fists, without tipping himself over the edge.”

 

femininity = submission? fuck that. and fuck me, while you’re at it.

A well-phrased excerpt from BJ (emphases mine):

“One crucial thing was over looked in this race to elevate women to bossiness. To escape the oppressive tyranny of PIV sex and let women be in charge. They failed to notice that it wasn’t being penetrated itself that was submissive. It was just that all femininity was equated with submission - that everything a woman did in sex had been made to look as if it was a priori submissive.

But there is no way that such simple basics – being the hole or the plug – are on their own submissive or dominant. It only has further meaning in context.

Sometimes it feels like femdom is a big mirror. You hold it up to the world and you see all kinds of yukky beliefs reflected by and clear. Like that bit in the Snow Queen or something.
But that’s the fact. Way back in the past when they invented misogyny they decided that women were lower status and thus had the low status role in sex. He had the mighty phallus – she had the dirty needy hole. You can see how femdom later thought, hey, lets flip this shit. Let’s make the guy be called slut for wanting and be filled. But those things aren’t really submissive. Having something pushed into your body that feels amazing is only submissive because someone decided that the female role in sex was a submissive one.

You don’t need to put the guy on the bottom because he is the bottom. It misses the fucking point. Fucking. Which is the point. Which feels good. Which doesn’t have an innate power exchange embedded in it.

Really. It just doesn’t.”