Musings

No Moment is Unendurable, & Other Life Lessons I Learned From Getting Spanked

Kate Sloan

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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?

So Much, Not Enough: Sex Work Laws in Australia

Kate Sloan

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!

12 Days of Girly Juice: 2 Fears Defeated

Kate Sloan

I wanted to write about fears, because anxiety is a big part of my life. It affects me when I’m writing a difficult exam or performing music in front of a crowd, so of course, it affects me when I’m gettin’ sexy, too.

But this was an interesting year of forcing myself out of comfort and into discovery. I try to do that every year, but 2015 was a year where I really felt like I succeeded. Here are two fears I confronted headfirst in 2015…

 

1. Being watched during blowjobs

Oh, I know. I’ve talked your ear off about this before. But it really was major.

In 2011–2012, I went from “crying and hyperventilating at the very thought of giving a BJ” to “enthusiastically going down as long as the recipient had their eyes closed or a blindfold on.” And it was only in 2015 that I finally felt able to give a BJ without caring if the recipient was looking.

Of the five (!!) men to whom I gave blowjobs in 2015, only two received my spiel about “hey, I have a weird thing where I don’t like to be looked at during BJs; would you mind turning the light out/closing your eyes/looking the other way?” And both of those times were first times with the partners in question, so it was normal for me to be nervous.

I even caught myself slyly looking up at a partner while his dick was in my mouth recently, and as basic as that is, I can’t recall ever doing that before. The thought of it always previously gave me sooooo much anxiety about how I looked while giving head (slutty, silly, whatever). It felt like a massive step forward to even be able to exchange those two seconds of eye contact.

And hey, guess what? 2015 also brought the first time I ever gave a blowjob with spectators. Our cuddle-pile and emergency threesome at Playground involved me blowing someone while 1–2 other people looked on. And honestly, it didn’t freak me out at all. I barely even thought about it. I was just excited to have a cute boy’s cock in my mouth.

 

2. Threesomes

I had two threesomes in 2015, which is apparently enough that I now warrant the nickname “Threesome Girl.” (Seriously, someone called me this. People are strange.)

Recently I got into a discussion with some coworkers about threesomes, and one of them said, “I don’t think I’d ever have one. It doesn’t seem like it’d be fun.” This amused me because that’s what I used to think, too. Sex with more than two participants just didn’t seem up my alley. I thought it’d feel less intimate, more scattered, and that one person would inevitably feel left out of the action.

I also questioned whether I’d ever find two people who I was actively attracted to, who were also both attracted to each other. It seemed like a longshot at best.

Both of my threesomes thus far were very impromptu, each happening within a couple hours of being suggested, and I think that’s the only way they would’ve worked for me. Given advance notice, I would have panicked and talked myself out of it. “There are too many ways this could go wrong,” I would have thought. But everything went blissfully right.

There was none of the detachment or awkwardness I had feared. Both experiences felt shockingly intimate – sometimes even moreso than sex with only one person. I felt close to the action even at times when I wasn’t directly involved in it.

And though I had long denounced any threesomes where all three participants weren’t scaldingly attracted to each other, that part was actually fine too. Me and Bex don’t have sex with each other or even kiss, and that was perfectly okay because we were both so into the guy we were boning. Me and Georgia don’t have a particularly sexual connection either, but she nonetheless went down on me like a champ, and we both enjoyed it. I’m learning that there are a lot of complicated factors involved in making a sexual experience feel fun, and white-hot attraction isn’t necessarily mandatory (at least, not for me).

 

What sexual fears did you face in 2015?

12 Days of Girly Juice: 10 Perfect Sex Songs

Kate Sloan

Music and sex go hand-in-hand for me. I have a friend who wears earplugs when she masturbates because the silence helps her focus; I’m the total opposite. I feel creeped out and on edge if there’s no tunes on while I’m jerkin’ it.

For those of you who feel similarly, here are 10 of my favorite sex songs in 2015. BRB, I’ll be in my bunk with a pair of noise-cancelling headphones and an assortment of sex toys.

Justin Bieber – No Pressure. Say what you will about Bieber, but dude sure can crank out a juicy slow jam. When “What Do You Mean?” came out, a cute dom guy in my life kept telling me I needed to give it a listen, and at first I scoffed… but then I dipped my toe into the ocean of Bieber and was forever converted. This whole album is packed with deliciousness, but “No Pressure” might be my fave.

Alina Baraz – Fantasy. Where has Alina Baraz been all my life? Her music is like someone hacked into my brain, located the hole entitled “sex music,” and created a masterpiece in the exact shape of that hole. That smoky, coy voice… That slow, undulating rhythm… Ohhh yes.

Walk the Moon – Sidekick. I initially checked out Walk the Moon because their song “Shut Up and Dance” was the irresistible earworm of my summer. I was delighted to discover that the rest of their album is chock full of sexual tension and dance-y beats. “Sidekick” has one of my favorite lyrical images ever: “Keys left hanging in the door, a trail of shoes and winter coats; we’re kissing on the kitchen floor, our friendship up against the ropes…”

Punch Brothers – Magnet. I don’t know that anyone will ever let me have sex with them while “Magnet” is playing, because, well, it’s bluegrass. But – ungh – it’s really good bluegrass. And it’s sexy and sharp and dramatic and, like Chris Thile says, “fairly debauched.”

Violents – I’ve Done This Before. Jeremy Larson, one of my fave music dudes in the entire universe, has this project called Violents where every EP has a different female singer. The songs have a cool, weird, dreamy vibe and I’m super into it.

Brentalfloss – Paperboy. Um, please don’t tell Brent I think this song is sexy; he’d definitely laugh at me. Okay, the lyrics aren’t sexy – they’re about a boy on his paper delivery route – but, like, dat funk breakdown. Unf.

Bebel Gilberto – Tanto Tempo. I remember being really obsessed with this album in 2007, and listening to it while on vacation in Mexico, lying out in the hot sun in my bikini and headphones. It’s still really evocative of relaxation and summer skin for me. Girl’s got a voice made to fuck to, frankly.

Reverie Sound Revue – The Leisure Lost. Pick any song in the Reverie Sound Revue discography and fuck to it; I guarantee you won’t be disappointed. This was a fave of mine this year, though. I love how Lisa Lobsinger’s voice always sounds like she’s reclined on a couch somewhere, just casually purring her lines. Why oh why did this band have to break up?!

William Singe – Hotline Bling. I’m pretty tired of the original song at this point, but this sweet sexy R&B cover of it is A++. Just try to get the image of Drake’s terrible dancing out of your head long enough to have sex to this tune…

Menahan Street Band – The Crossing. This was a recommendation from Rae, who clearly knows what she’s talking about. Pretty sure it’s impossible to feel unsexy while listening to this beautiful instrumental piece.

What were your favorite sex songs this year?

Yes Yes Yes And: Fail More, Fail Harder

Kate Sloan

Yes Yes Yes And is my ongoing feature on the parallels between improv and sex. Yes, I am a nerd. Enjoy.

 

When I’m in the mood to get reeeeal esoteric about comedy, I listen to the Backline podcast. And Rob Norman and Adam Cawley, ever men after my own heart, always serve up exactly the joke-laced philosophizin’ I’m craving.

One truth-bomb I’ve heard Rob drop in multiple episodes is that failure is good for your improv. The harder you fail, the more you get out of your comfort zone. The more you fail, the more you learn. Rob says, when he gets into a place of stasis with his improv, where he feels like he’s playing the same characters and relying on the same schtick all the time, the cure is failure. Doing something badly – whether on purpose or by accident – can be the shake-up you need to see your blind spots, fix your issues, and do better.

Well, guess what? That applies to sex too.

There’s this shitty cultural idea that sex should be seamless and wonderful from the get-go. You’re supposed to be able to read your partner’s mind and give them exactly what they want, because sex is “dirty” and talking about it is “unromantic” or “kills the moment.”

Fuck that, dude: communication is key. And sexual failure is also key. Because you could sit around all day talking about likes and dislikes, turn-ons and turn-offs, but there are some things you’ll just never learn until you get messy and try ’em.

My sexual “failures” are some of my funniest and most treasured sex memories. The times I choked on cock and had a mid-blowjob coughing fit… The time I tried to get bossy in bed and discovered I can’t even convincingly pretend to be a domme… The time I faked an orgasm when someone fingered me for the first time because I was too scared to give directions… It’s all taught me so much.

And even the less-than-funny failures were beneficial to my sex life in the long run. For every consent-disrespecting douchebag I’ve made out with, my resolve and self-respect have grown stronger. For every boundary I’ve loosened to impress someone cute, I’ve either expanded my limits or hardened them where I needed to. For every kink I’ve explored, I’ve deepened my knowledge of my own sexuality in one way or another.

You might recall that I recently had my first threesome, and while it was far from a failure, I learned soooo much from it about how I operate as a sexual person and what my patterns are. (More on that in another post, I promise.) I would’ve never stumbled on those realizations if I hadn’t tried something scarily new to me and kinda (arguably) fucked it up. At least, parts of it.

So, don’t be afraid to fail at sex sometimes. When you do something badly, you learn how to do it better. Or – at the very least – you have a good long laugh with your partner. Either way, you win.