Tag Archives: control

Drawn to Illicit Sex

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World English Dictionary
illicit (ɪˈlɪsɪt)

— adj
1. another word for illegal
2. not approved by common custom, rule, or standard: illicit sexual relations
For the purposes of this post I am using the latter definition.

The incest I had endured as a child left me so terrified of my own sexuality and of men that it left me completely disconnected with and at times dissociated from my body. When I finally began to sexually awaken as a late bloomer at around age 24, I ended up dating nearly all abusive men, active substance using men, and narcissistic men. It seemed strange that over and over it was the wrong guys. Bad luck I thought at first, I could never seem to get it right

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Why couldn’t I have been the girl who got asked out by some nice fellow and progressed in a slow and steady fashion within a relationship? Maybe have worn his Varsity Letterman jacket. Held hands and felt all warm and fuzzy inside, which is what I am really after in the first place.  Maybe got real edgy and snuck behind the bleachers and got to first or second base. Then after a few weeks went parking at “the point” and maybe if I was really super daring, hit third base. Somewhere in the future, got engaged and then on my honeymoon he would have popped my cherry?

I’ll tell you why I could have never been the girl who dated the Varsity jacket guy. Because I was a victim of incest at the hands of my brother and it had been going on since I was 8 and it didn’t end until I was in the middle of high school. And by then I wanted to commit suicide.

So when I grew up, all screwed up as I was, I had become THAT girl. You know the one that tells my date my entire life story over a few drinks in under ten minutes and then let’s him finger fuck me underneath the table at the restaurant, while telling him as he is doing this, that I want to take things slow.

Or maybe I have a guy friend who says he’s hoping my recovery moves more quickly because he’d like to screw me. After a tongue lashing from me, on how I value our friendship, and we’ve been friends for so long and how can he do this? I climb up on his lap, straddle him, kiss him, cock tease him, while my body betrays me and I get wet all over his jeans..

Oh wait, here comes the shame again, along with guilt. Why couldn’t I have just tongue lashed him and left it there? What’s wrong with me. After restaurant guy, I hid in my apartment for weeks every time he rang my buzzer. So much shame. Eventually he didn’t come around anymore, Thank God. When you couple shame and guilt, this wedding along with a lack of ability to dialogue about your emotions… You spend your life either running or hiding. Building thicker walls to keep people out so you don’t get hurt again.

My shrink says lots of people with C-PTSD especially who are incest survivors and victims of childhood emotional and physical abuse and neglect are at higher risk for developing sexual problems and problems with setting adequate boundaries overall.

When your body is not your own as a child, because your brother has access to you 24/7 you don’t ever have a “no,” to his sexual advances. You can never escape. As an adult it was quite an easy transition to slide into the world of BDSM, fetish, and kink . At least it was for me. I did not recognize it at first, but it replicated exactly what took place in my childhood. My body became controlled by a Dominant and just like in childhood I do not have a “no” to his sexual advances either.

I was too busy figuring out how to stay alive amidst trauma in childhood and adolescence and I never learned the healthy boundaries needed to navigate adulthood. So the cycle repeated.  Early childhood sexual abuse leaves its victims susceptible to sexual exploitation later on in adulthood.

I’m a walking talking paradox. I really DO want to be the girl who goes slow and have healthy boundaries AND also, I don’t. I crave that which is taboo, I recoil from that which is taboo.

I think back to Stanley Kubrick’s film, A Clockwork Orange. If I’m wired to respond sexually in a maladaptive and deviant way for so long, what are the odds I can re-wire now? There is a saying that once a cucumber has become a pickle, it can never go back to being a cucumber again.

What if I am that pickle?

What if that person just said that cucumber shit to sound deep like they could wax philosophical?

(They could have just been really really stoned)

What if there is hope for all of us for redemption?


Good Girl

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I don’t care what you have ever seen or read about Fifty Shades of Grey,  it’s all bullshit.  At the outset, all I want is to please and want to do what he says and all that; I guess it IS like that.    And I suppose in the beginning maybe I would’ve eaten a piece of dog-shit or something for him.

But this was 3 years in.   And the lashings with his cane and whip or hand or paddle had grown kind of old .    And the formality of saying “yes, Daddy” had worn me thin.

One particular night, he had bragged he wanted to make me bark like a dog.

One of his fucked-up whims I guess.

Like any good girl I told him to fuck off  that I wasn’t going to  bark like any dog .   He insisted and dragged me to the bed and said,” then I will make you.”

I quipped ,”no matter how many times you take the cane to me, or the flogger, or the paddle,   you will not make me bark like a dog. It’s just not going to happen. You will not break me.”

The proverbial gauntlet had been thrown and I knew it.  But I was confident that I would be the victor.  That he would tire before I.

He threw down lash after lash.  Each time stopping long enough to pause and ask, “are you going to bark now?”

With each blow I tried to deal with the pain by biting into the comforter hard, as he bore down into my flesh.  Now, some submissives are masochists but I am not.  Some go to a dissociative place and leave their body, I did not.  I just bit down and braced for it.

I was already bruised from his blows and felt it but didn’t want him to win.  I hate losing.  I despise weakness.   At the next go round, I’d grown angry.  I asked, “If our roles were reversed I wonder how many lashings you could take? Oh that’s right you would have pussied out by now.”

Then he hit me harder and atop of the bruises he had just inflicted.  Dirty….dirty…. underhanded bastard I thought.

I knew in that moment he would win.

He leaned in and asked for the final time, “are you ready to bark yet?

Woof.”  I said quietly. 

He said, “say it louder.

SMACK!!!!! 

WOOF!” I yelled.

That’s my good girl, ” he replied.

Initially I wanted to be him that day, the one with all the power; the one wielding the implements.   But then I realized that I had power of a different sort.  That this sexual sadist craved me.  I was his canvas and he needed to mainline me.  By me pushing his buttons and challenging him, I created how this entire night went.

Good girl indeed.