Monday, October 31, 2011


Objectification is when one person consents to be an object that meets the needs of another person without pissing and moaning about their own needs.  Err, what is not hot about that?  No really.  What is not hot about that?  I'm a big fan of mutuality and everyone getting their needs met, don't get me wrong.  To me the problem comes when you refuse to meet their needs, not when you simply don't do it today.  That's life.  Not everyone gets all their needs met every day.  Ok.

For me this kind of short-term relationship is interesting because the early part of any relationship is all about objectification whether people want to admit it or not.  When you are first talking to someone you are talking to your projection of who they are.  You don't know yet.  I like objectification as a specific sexual fetish because it involves heavy communication of expectations.  Even if those expectations are silence and compliance as someone else does things to you.

A lot of the reason I am as excited right this minute as I am is because there is a lot of mutual objectification going on.  He is requesting behavior from me and I am doing the same.  We are communicating like crazy about what we want, what we think about, how we like to be touched.  We are writing a script together.  It's hot.  In order to really do objectification well in an emotionally healthy way you have to be willing to be vulnerable about what you are up for and not.

That's the crux.  That is what life has taught me.  The difference between an abusive relationship and a D/s relationship is that in a D/s relationship there is an off switch on the abuse.  There is a mime show of abuse projected on an otherwise reasonable interaction.  That's how I think of my relationship with Noah.  We make a lot of jokes about my Stockholm Syndrome.  How we are deliberately working towards that kind of intensity of near-abuse.  He has raped me.  I think I love him more because he did.  That's probably not healthy.  I certainly have masturbated thinking about it dozens of times over the years.  I would honestly much rather masturbate thinking of my husband raping me brutally than my father.

Why is that so terrible?  Why does the goal have to be that I never fantasize about being raped again?  Does that really have to be how sex works for every single person on the planet?  I think that rape fantasies are common enough that I can be forgiven for liking the idea of being over powered.  I think that given that I was taught to think I should be available for sex... I want to be available for sex.  It's normal for people to act out on what they were taught.  How many people put their children in private religious schools because they want to indoctrinate their children to grow up a certain way and have a certain kind of life.  Some people leave the nest, most don't.  The norm throughout all of time is that people do what their parents do.

My father was a fucking pervert.  He was a disgusting man.  Do you know why he was a disgusting man?  No?  Me neither.  But I have some projections.  He wanted sex.  He didn't know how to be honest about it.  It went to bad places.  He didn't have positive outlets.  They were simply not available to him.  My mother was brought up Mennonite and I have heard enough from her over the years about her condemnation of me being a slut.  There is something wrong with me.

Yes, there is something wrong with me.  I like sex.  I like laying down while a gorgeous big man holds my wrists and forces my knees apart because he just wants me so much.  I like having Noah wake me up by rubbing some lube on my cunt before abruptly fucking me in the middle of the night.  That is when sex feels the very best on a purely physical level.  My body just knows that it is doing exactly what it wants.  It's amazing.

Objectification is like that when I'm awake.  It works better when it is at least somewhat mutual.  By which I don't mean switching.  So far TA has put a fair bit of effort into learning my preferences.  He is choosing what he says carefully.  He pretty clearly has thought about his effect.  He is trying to be my torrid affair.  That's so hot I can barely breathe.  He wants that part of me.  Oh sweet Jesus.  He's like Noah.  I am in so much wonderful, glorious, delicious Trouble.

The reason this is so hot is because this kind of intensity of sex exchange isn't something you can sustain.  I can't with Noah.  The awesome thing is it comes and goes and then comes back again with great intensity.  I'm not worried about Noah being boring, but he does want to do things with his life other than have an affair with me.  That's hard.  I have all this time and emotional/sexual energy that I want to use.  It's not a good idea for me to spend my time being angry at my kids for preventing Noah and I from having all the non-stop hot sex we used to have.  (Ten times a week in the first year.  That is the best year of my life.)  We will do that again some day.  Because we want to.  It's a goal.  But not yet.

For now I am allowed to go have this torrid affair with this increasingly-good-looking-with-each-orgasm man.  I have a funny confession.  I have never stared at someones picture while masturbating.  I mean like a head shot.  It was intense.  It felt scary and vulnerable.  He has a pretty intense head shot up.  I can't wait to find out what it feels like when he stares really hard at me.  I like the bumps on his ears.  Oh put a fucking sock in it Krissy.

No comments:

Post a Comment