Gaining life experience makes me better at having sex, but also, gaining sex experience makes me better at living life. It’s a two-way street.
I’ve talked to you before about the similarities between sex and improv, and one of those similarities is that they’ve both informed my life philosophy. Massively.
Recently I was trying to describe to a friend how I feel when I’m getting spanked – the times when I’m really in the mood for it, braced for it, craving it. I reach a point where the painful rhythm no longer feels like a series of individual impacts: it becomes a wave I’m riding. I feel in control of the ups and downs of my experience, even though I’m bottoming and therefore have given up my power in the context of the scene. I feel how I do when I’ve been running for a while, or gotten into the swing of an intense badminton game, or been kissing someone for so long that my mind goes blissfully blank.
That’s an endorphin high. And it feels like a meditative zen high, too – something like what psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi calls “flow.” It’s part of what keeps me coming back to the act of spanking, especially when I’m stressed and need a release. Like Jillian Keenan says, yes, spanking feels painful, and difficult, and in some ways unpleasant, but it also feels necessary.
When I first began experimenting with spanking, I would wimp out as soon as it started to actually hurt. I’d tell my partner to stop, feeling like I’d reached my limit, and we’d move on to other things. Over the past few months, I’ve explored this kink more and I can now handle vastly longer, meaner spanking sessions than I could when I started. But it’s not so much that my pain tolerance has increased; I just understand now that pain is okay. My world will not unravel if I experience pain. Some moments will be difficult, sure, but those moments will end. And I will still be okay when they do.
This is also a lesson I’ve had to learn in relation to my anxiety. A favorite mantra of mine (courtesy of author Susan Jeffers) is “feel the fear and do it anyway.” This is one of the simplest, scariest, hugest messages I’ve had to drill into my brain: that most of my fears aren’t based in reality and exist only in my own head. My amygdala might tell me that talking to a cute stranger at a bar or walking into a big party full of strangers is a lion-stampede-level hazard, but it is absolutely no such thing. In the vast majority of cases, I can safely ignore my fear. It’s tricky as hell, and my body and brain will fight me the whole time I’m doing it, but the exhilaration of going through with it is worth the risk, and it’s never, ever as bad as I think it’s going to be.
Alexandra Franzen said it better than I could: “Are you willing to feel temporarily uncomfortable so that you can accomplish something that is permanently amazing?”
When I push through my pain aversion during spankings, I reach that endorphin high – that top-of-the-mountain, good-kink buzz that quiets my mind and pleases my body. I impress my dom, and I get to rest easy knowing I’ve earned it when he tells me I’m a good girl.
When I push through my day-to-day anxieties, I get what Alex Franzen calls “glitter-bombs exploding through my veins.” I feel infallible, badass and brave. I gain a new fear reference, a confidence power-up, and whatever rewards await me at the other end of that courageous thing I did. (A date with a hot new acquaintance? A radio show hosting gig to put on my resumé? A hilarious story to tell at the next TMSG?)
Being brave is the hardest thing I ever do, and it’s also the thing that pays off the most. It’s terrifying, but it’s worth it. It feels impossible, but it’s worth it. It’s painful and awful and risky and reckless, but it’s worth it.
Now, what brave things are you gonna do this year?
Here’s how you know I’m still relatively new to kink: I didn’t take aftercare seriously until very recently.
I viewed it largely the same way I view those safety presentations that flight attendants give before takeoff: this is something I should be aware of, but it probably won’t apply to my life.
See, I cried after the first time I had sex with a man, but for the most part, sex doesn’t unravel me. I think sex is less tied to emotions for me than it is for the average person, just judging by the questions I sometimes get when I tell friends about my sex life (e.g. “How can you have sex with someone you don’t have romantic feelings for?!” and “What?! You could ‘take or leave’ kissing? Really?!“).
But the thing is, kink is way more emotionally taxing than vanilla sex (at least in my experience), which is part of why aftercare is so important. When I’m just getting fucked or putting genitals in my mouth or whatever, I can roll over and fall asleep immediately afterwards, or start cracking jokes, or get up and leave. I can spend some time decompressing and debriefing, but I don’t need to. Shit’s different with kink.
My partners have normally been wonderful about aftercare. They gave it without me needing to ask for it or even use the word “aftercare.” But last week, I went into a play session feeling a bit psychologically off-kilter already (don’t do this!!), so the extended spanking and biting and slapping that typically would’ve been fine… wasn’t. I felt more shaken up than usual, to the point that I started crying and couldn’t even properly verbalize what my problem was. To make matters worse, my partner said something shame-y to me, and I don’t think he meant to, but I just couldn’t handle it at that moment.
So I did what you’re never supposed to do: I skipped aftercare. I put my clothes on and got the hell out of there, because I felt a strong need to distance myself from that person at that moment. It wasn’t the brightest decision I’ve ever made, but it felt necessary at that time.
The face of someone who needs aftercare.
I’m really lucky to have lots of clever and supportive folks following me on Twitter, so when I tweeted about my situation, I received lots of suggestions. Upon arriving home, I munched carrots and hummus while watching a cartoon show on Netflix, while still wearing my winter coat with the hood pulled up because I felt safer that way. After about an hour of sniffling and breathing and crunching and (eventually) giggling, I started to feel less horrible.
It got me thinking about how important it is to have self-care supplies on hand, incase of a kinkmergency like this. Sometimes your partner has to leave right away, and can’t give you the care you need after a scene; sometimes you have a conflict with a partner during sex that leaves you both wanting distance; hell, sometimes you might even do kink stuff by yourself that leaves you feeling vulnerable enough to need some aftercare. Here are some suggestions for items to have at the ready, just incase.
Calming media
In my recent time of need, I gravitated toward Mike Tyson Mysteries, because it’s bright, silly, and doesn’t require a whole lotta attention span. I think cartoons, in general, make for good aftercare viewing. Some of my kinky friends swear by Pixar movies or old episodes of Bill Nye the Science Guy.
If you’re more inclined toward grown-up media, you could watch something you’ve seen a zillion times already. (Sherlock? The Office? Dead Poets Society?) Depending on how you’re feeling, it could be something funny or lighthearted, or something sad enough to induce some cathartic crying. Either could be helpful.
Some people get overheated when overwhelmed by kink-related feelings; obviously you should listen to your body and do what feels best. But most people I speak to about this topic seem to say that they feel cold and/or shivery and need additional warmth after emotionally intense play.
To combat this, you can keep on hand some blankets, sweaters, coats, scarves, shawls, hats, socks, slippers, and/or mittens. In emotionally fragile times, I especially like to wear things that remind me of someone I love: a shawl my grandmother knitted, a jacket a friend gave me, some mittens my mom bought me.
You can also get warm by making yourself (or having someone else make you) some tea or hot chocolate, or by drawing a nice hot bath, ideally with some good-smelling stuff in it.
If you have access to a friendly pet, cuddle it. If not, a stuffed animal is almost as good. You can also try cuddling with real-live people if there are any around, and if that appeals. (It’s okay if it doesn’t. Sometimes the comedown from kink involves wanting your distance from other humans for a little while.)
Tools of self-expression and self-reflection
This will differ a lot from person to person and even from moment to moment, but you may want a way to process what just happened to you and what you’re feeling. You can keep it simple and just talk out loud about your feelings (I love to do this while sitting in a bath), or you can get a bit more involved and write in a journal, paint a picture, make some music, etc.
For stream-of-consciousness writing that I may or may not want to see ever again, I love 750Words.com. Sometimes typing is easier than writing by hand, physically and maybe emotionally too, since you don’t have to focus quite so much on what you’re writing as you write it. A service like 750Words is also more secure than a physical journal, which might be important to you if you’re writing about sensitive topics and difficult feelings.
Aromatherapy
I like the smell of bath products from Lush, scented candles from Bath & Body Works, and lavender essential oil. Figure out what smells you like and keep ’em around if you can. You may want to put on a perfume that reminds you of a happy time in your life. (Bonus happy-hibernating-turtle points if you spray this into the front of a cowl or scarf and then pull it up over your nose.)
Grounding snacks and drinks
I’m finding that I really like cold, crunchy foods when I’m coming down from subspace or a sex-high. Fruits and veggies give me enough sensory stimulation to ease me back to earth, and they’re also full of nourishment and hydration, which are important when you’ve just endured something intense.
A friend of mine keeps ice cream around for aftercare purposes. Another friend likes to pick up donuts on the way to a sex-date so they’ll be available for consumption afterward. It might be useful to think in advance about your own food-related proclivities, so you can avoid foods that will make you feel anxious or gross and choose only the ones that’ll make you feel good and happy.
It’s also really important to re-hydrate after a kink scene, or any kind of sex. You lose a lot of fluids through sweating, coming, and (maybe) crying. Load up on water, tea, juice, sports drinks, or whatever other beverages your body is calling out for. (Alcohol’s probably not a great idea at this time, though.)
Kind words and feel-good memories
This one’s a bit more abstract, but still important, I think. Start keeping a file or folder – whether digital or physical – that contains all the compliments you receive from friends, family, and even strangers. It’s so easy to forget the nice things people say about you, because they’re often outweighed by negative comments that stick in your head more easily.
If you’re having trouble coming up with material for this “compliment bank,” ask 10 of your closest pals what they think your 3 best qualities are.
You could also keep an ongoing jar of happy memories/good things, like Penny does, to leaf through when you need a pick-me-up. For aftercare purposes, it might be best if this is a physical object rather than just a digital list; the visceral quality of paper in your hands can help re-ground you.
What do you do when you need to provide your own aftercare? Or when you need to do self-care in general?
I once read about a French tradition in a fashion magazine, where you buy a red Chanel lipstick for a baby girl when she’s born and then give it to her when she’s old enough to rock it.
I was reminded of that custom when I got my Tantus Pelt paddle, because I want to buy one for every spanking enthusiast in my life. Top or bottom, dom or sub, casual dabbler or full-on kinkster: they all need one of these.
You might remember that I own a few Tantus paddles. I wasn’t a big fan of the Snap Strap – too long and stingy for my liking – so I gave it to a friend, and I hear she digs it. I was more partial to the Wham Bam, but even that was stingier than I typically prefer. And while the actual paddlin’ end of the Plunge works well for me, I was perplexed by the handle-that-doubles-as-a-dildo.
I’m not the only one who feels this way about it. I used it on Bex, and Penny used it on me, live on Periscope right after I bought it, and we all adored it. When I brought it to Playground Prom and folks tried it out on each other on the dance floor, more than one person asked me where I had gotten it. I’ve brought it to my dom fuckbuddy’s house on multiple occasions and we’ve loved using it together. I even brought it to my first porn shoot and ended up with a tasty bruise.
There is just so much about the Pelt that Tantus got perfectly right. For one thing: the material. All of Tantus’ paddles are made of matte black silicone. It looks and feels sexy and understated, and it can be boiled or bleached if you need to sanitize it between partners. The matte finish gives it enough grippiness that you probably won’t lose your grasp on it unless you get very sweaty or lube-y. The silicone is thick and firm enough to pack a real punch, but flexible enough that it gathers momentum with every stroke.
That momentum is the secret to the Pelt’s success. You don’t have to put much muscle into your swing to get a sizeable smack out of it. Its small size also makes it easier to manoeuver than the longer paddles Tantus makes, so I think this is the best paddle in the range for someone who has issues with strength or mobility: you don’t need a ton of brawn or co-ordination to use it. But if you do put some serious vigor into a Pelt wallop, you’ll get even more bang for your buck than you would with a rigid paddle.
As I mentioned, I’ve been on both sides of the Pelt, so I’ve come to appreciate its virtues both in the hand and on the butt. Aside from the aforementioned momentum awesomeness, I also like using it as a top because it’s just so damn comfortable to hold. The handle is slightly thicker and firmer than the business end, so it doesn’t flop or squish – Tantus’ designers are geniuses. The handle has squared-off edges but they don’t dig into my hand uncomfortably. Sometimes I like to pull the paddle’s end back toward me with one hand and then let it pop forward, like a slingshot, and that’s super fun and highly effective. And the Pelt makes some of the most satisfying impact sounds I have ever heard.
Bottom-wise, I get all swoony for the Pelt. It’s stingier and often more painful than traditional hand spankings or fist poundings, but if I’m properly warmed up, I can handle it. I sometimes like to have my skin stroked in between hits so I don’t get overstimulated, and the Pelt’s silky surface is lovely for that. This paddle warms and reddens my skin pretty quickly, which I totally dig. And while it can leave bruises and welts if used in the right way, it’s not so thuddy that marks are unavoidable.
In addition to all these great qualities, I also love that the Pelt is easy to wash, squishy enough that you can fold it up to fit it into a small bag, and (don’t make fun of me) has a sexy name. (I could never get down with the name of the Plunge. It reminded me of clogged toilets.)
The Pelt is my favorite paddle. My desert-island spanking implement. My interest in spanking has really ramped up over the past few months, and this wonderful tool has been my right-hand man during that journey. I own a lot of paddles but this is the one I most often tuck into my bag before sex-dates or pull out of my storage drawers for sex-visitors. It’s my one true paddle love, and I know it’s going to see me through plenty more adventures in my lifetime.
The new year is upon us, my loves! Mmm, dat sweet-ass blank-slate feeling. I love it!
This is the time of year when I start new notebooks and calendars, make new income spreadsheets and checklists in Evernote and Google Drive, and deep-clean my desk. #dork
Along with all that, of course, comes one of my favorite activities: GOAL-SETTING! This year is gonna be a big one in lots of areas, including sex. Here are some of my big, delicious, exciting sexual goals for 2016…
1. Get fucked in the ass.
You know, I was gonna write “Have anal sex,” but somehow that phrasing didn’t feel jazzy enough. Plus I would never lean in close to a partner mid-bang and whisper, “Would you have anal sex with me, please?” Nah. It’s much more likely I’d brush my lips against their ear and softly coo, “Would you fuck me in the ass?”
I just got tingles up and down my arms while writing that, which is how I know this is a goal I should pursue.
I’ve done plenty of Butt Stuff over the years. Plugs, dildos, fingers and tongues have all broached my ass, often with ecstatic results. But I have yet to be fucked in the ass, with either a flesh-and-blood cock or a strap-on. And that seems increasingly like something I should do.
For a long time, I had a partner who got squicked out by “gross” sex things like butts and blood, so while I felt comfortable with him, I didn’t feel comfortable asking him to fuck my ass. After that, I had a series of short-term or one-off partners, and didn’t have enough time with any of them to build the trust I’d need for anal stuff to feel okay. But now I have a stable fuckbuddy who I trust enough to let him spank me and restrain me on a regular basis, so this seems like a good time to start planning anal adventures.
2. Get fisted.
Ambitious? Yes. Intimidating? Certainly. Attainable? You bet.
I have had an interest in fisting ever since I first heard what it was. Hell, I’m wearing my Fisting Day shirt right now, as I write this. But despite the erotic intrigue it held for me, I always thought my vag was too small to manage it. It seemed like something I could’ve attempted in another life, under different circumstances, like winning the World Series or performing on Broadway.
While I’m still tight as hell down there (as my bang-buddy seems to remind me every time he fucks me – hnnng, yes, this is a nice thing to hear), I’ve also gained some mastery over my vaginal muscles. They’ve grown more flexible and resilient. Just as you get more range of motion in your hamstrings with every downward-facing dog you do in yoga class, your vagina also gets more versatile the more that you cram giant-ass toys into it. I can take the large end of the Eleven with no lube or warm-up (?!?) so I’m probably ready to work toward being fisted.
The aforementioned fuckbuddy has relatively small hands for a dude. There are ways in which this is less than ideal (my A-spot is pretty deep in there), but it might make him my perfect first fister. We shall seeeee!
3. Bang someone 20 or younger, and 35 or older.
Relative to my own age, the oldest person I’ve boned was 8 years older than me, and the youngest was (wait for it) 4 days younger. My sexual partners have been, on average, a few years older than me – somewhere around 28 to my 23.
That’s fine and good. I like sleeping with people who have more experience than me; I think it appeals to my submissive streak, since they’re generally more confident in asking for what they want and having their way with me (consensually, of course). I’ve also always been mature for my age, so I tend to click with older partners emotionally and mentally as well. That’s why I want to push the envelope a bit and try sleeping with someone who is 12+ years older than me, to observe the differences and broaden my sexual palate.
But… I have a bit of a kink for teaching people how to get me off. Plus there’s something so viscerally hot about those early sexual experiences when everything feels new and fresh. So I want to sleep with someone a few years younger than me, too. I don’t necessarily want to be someone’s first – that seems like a lot of pressure – but maybe their second or third. Hmm…!
Of course, both of these goals require the caveat that I’m looking for compatibility and not just a particular age bracket. I won’t sleep with some random 18-year-old douchebro who I loathe, or some skeezy 40-year-old creep, just to put a checkmark on my to-do list. I want to connect with people who are at different life stages than me but who are nonetheless in sync with me in the ways that count: we should make each other laugh, enjoy each other’s company, and have plenty to talk about.
And if the sex isn’t good, well, at least it’ll be educational.
Australia’s sex work laws have a long and interesting history. While sex work is legal in many areas of the country, there are still many stipulations that complicate sex work there. In Western Australia, for example, prostitution itself is allowed but some activities associated with it are not, including working in brothels or doing sex work in pairs. This puts Perth escorts and other WA sex workers at risk, because brothel work and paired work is often safer than solo sex work.
I became interested in Australian sex work laws when I discovered Zahra Stardust. Zahra does many different kinds of sex work – including stripping, poledancing, and porn – and she’s also taught gender studies at a university, advocated for sex workers’ rights at the United Nations, and spoken out in the media against Australian censorship laws in porn. Basically, she is a badass. A badass who’s hella smart, incredibly cute, and can squirt enormous amounts.
Zahra has worked closely with the Scarlet Alliance, also known as the Australian Sex Workers Association, with the goal of achieving justice, equality and autonomy for sex workers down under. Among other things, the Alliance does research about sex workers’ lives and work. One finding of theirs is that the mandatory HIV testing required of sex workers in some areas of Australia may actually be a bad thing. A 2012 article (of which Zahra Stardust is a co-author) claims that mandatory STI testing increases stigma, and is invasive, costly, and ultimately unnecessary, because Australian sex workers have some of the lowest STI rates and highest condom usage rates of any sex workers in the world. This suggests that government intervention into sex work may be more hazardous than helpful.
It does indeed seem that many sex work laws make sex workers less safe, despite technically making their work legal. Brisbane escorts and other Queensland sex workers are allowed to work privately or in licensed brothels; however, they are not allowed to hire receptionists, drivers, lawyers, accountants, or cleaners, and they are only allowed to tell another person where they’re going if that person is not a sex worker too. This obviously makes the work not only dangerous but also even more laborious and time-consuming than it already is.
This minimal level of legalization doesn’t even work the way it’s supposed to. A 2009 report found that 90% of sex work in Queensland is either illegal or unregulated. It’s no surprise that when you put ridiculous limitations on how sex workers are allowed to conduct their work, more and more of them will work outside the bounds of legality.
I don’t live in Australia and I’m not anywhere near as entrenched in this world as someone like Zahra Stardust, but at least on paper, it seems like Melbourne escorts and other Victoria sex workers have some of the best rights and protections of any sex workers in Australia. In licensed brothels, sex workers may refuse to see a client if they feel the situation may become unsafe or violent, and they cannot be punished for doing this. Condoms and lube must be provided to sex workers for free in these brothels. Brothel owners must provide workers with clean linens, showers, baths, and hot and cold water. Escort agencies have to provide sex workers with a cellphone or another two-way electronic device to allow for safe communication between workers and licensees. Privately licensed escorts in Victoria are allowed to hire staff, unlike in Queensland, but they may not advertise to find staff.
While there are still many ways in which Australian sex work laws are lacking, it seems to me that they are miles ahead of many other countries in this regard. For example, here in Canada, it’s legal to sell sex but illegal to buy it (?!). I hope that more countries move in the direction Australia is heading, albeit with more protections for sex workers and fewer absurd restrictions on how they can do their work.
Note: this post was sponsored, but as always, all opinions and writing are my own!