Hysteria, Hands, and Victorian Vibrators

Which came first: the urban legend, or the kink?

It’s hard to say. I went to see the movie Hysteria in theatres with my then-boyfriend when it came out in 2011, and I don’t recall having any particular Kink Feelings about it. I mean, the movie contains (among other things) a flustered Hugh Dancy bringing several women to orgasm with oil-lubricated hands, and Maggie Gyllenhaal punching a police offer in the face while dressed in a devastating ballgown, so there’s a lot to love about it, kinks-wise. But I think, at the time, I was still so squarely vanilla that I mostly just giggled at the funny bits and enjoyed the celebrity eye candy.

The movie, if you don’t know, tells a fictionalized account of the vibrator’s oft-cited origin story. “Female hysteria” was an “illness” ascribed to uterus-havers for centuries, to account for everything from insomnia to irritability to (yes) sexual frustration. Though we now know that hysteria’s many symptoms were likelier the results of sociopolitical oppression, restrictive clothing, and various as-yet-undiscovered actual illnesses, back then it was blamed on a “wandering uterus” (hence the name, which stems from the Greek word for uterus, hystera). Various measures were employed to bring the uterus back to its rightful location – or, in some cases, to remove it fully (which, spoiler alert, didn’t work). One frequent prescription for hysteria was to have sexual intercourse more often – with one’s husband and only one’s husband, of course.

Award-winning technology scholar Rachel Maines theorized in her book The Technology of Orgasm that Victorian doctors may have stimulated women to orgasm with their hands to alleviate hysteria symptoms. She argues this practice may even have spurred the invention of the vibrator, because manual stimulation of the vulva is tiring and physicians would want a more efficient method of producing “hysterical paroxysm” (orgasm) in their patients. However, this tale is just a hypothesis and there is little, if any, proof it actually happened. A doctor named Joseph Mortimer Granville indeed invented the first electric vibrator in the 19th century, as the film Hysteria posits, but he didn’t have sexual uses in mind, and wasn’t even a particularly forward-thinking chap in terms of sex or gender.

That said, a story doesn’t have to be in line with your ethics or even be true for it to incite a hellfire in your kink-brain. I’ve always been turned on by the idea of “sex as a service” in kink roleplays, whether we’re talking about a daddy getting his little girl off to help her sleep, a masseuse administering a deft “happy ending,” or – yes – a Victorian doctor bringing off his patient with skilful hands. I enjoy these dynamics’ interplay between searing heat and cold detachment, the obvious and inescapable power differential, and the sense of mastery and of being mastered. Maybe I’m drawn to these fantasies partly because of how many casual hookups I’ve had: in a world where non-dudes’ orgasms are considered an optional add-on rather than a core feature of sex, it’s hot to imagine someone who will not only get me off, but who will do so with precision and efficiency because it’s their literal job.

Sometime after that first viewing of Hysteria in 2011, I began fantasizing about cool-eyed doctors in clinical lab coats. I thought about their gentle bedside manner, their soft baritone assurances that “the procedure is perfectly routine” and “this won’t hurt at all.” I thought about stethoscopes, speculums, and cold dollops of lubricant in an open palm. I thought about strong fingers stroking my outsides and penetrating my insides. I thought about my own inhibitions in this fictional scenario, the weakly suppressed blush creeping onto my cheeks and the quickening of my breath, always met by the doctor’s soft promise that it’s okay to feel what I’m feeling; it’s okay to make noise.

I thought, too, about how the doctor would feel in these situations. Actual Victorian physicians were unconvinced women could have orgasms without penetration or at all, since the model of sexuality back then was highly intercourse-focused (which still hasn’t changed as much as one would hope, to be honest). Would they even be aware that their patients’ obvious signs of sexual arousal were indeed sexual arousal? Would they feel themselves getting sympathetically turned on and not know why? Would some of them be fully cognizant of what they were doing and secretly delight in it? Would a particularly attractive patient break their composure, prompting them to want to add their mouth or cock to the “treatment plan”? Would they do this under the guise of medical necessity, or would they simply come clean and confess to wanting their patient that badly, medical license be damned?

This fantasy haunted my brain for years, and somehow I never thought I’d really be able to act it out. This conviction was so strong, in fact, that when I met another person who shared this kink, I wanted to overlook his boundary-crossing and rudeness to pursue a potential scene with him. Eventually my self-respect overcame my carnal curiosity, but it was a hard-won battle. That speaks to how powerful this fantasy had become in my mind.

You can imagine my delight, then, when I disclosed this kink to my current boyfriend during one of our early phone chats and he expressed some interest in it. We began playing with it in phone-sex roleplays (and once in person so far). He is always a doctor and I am always a patient experiencing hysteria symptoms – usually sexual frustration and intrusive sexual fantasies, though my character’s naiveté varies so sometimes she doesn’t even have the language to identify these symptoms as such. Likewise, his degree of complicity in the situation’s sexual bent also changes: sometimes he is actively attracted to me and knows what that means and entails, and other times, he is more detached and professional (I enjoy both). Sometimes we imagine we’re physically together in his office at a medical practice; other times, I’ve called in to some kind of medical help line. Sometimes he uses hypnosis or (imagined) anaesthesia to relax me, or perhaps to lull me into a state that makes me easier to take advantage of.

Often, he has to explain my own anatomy to me, and I find this particularly exciting. As evidenced by my overlapping interests in roleplaying as a little girl or a precocious student, I love kink dynamics that allow for teaching and learning. The power discrepancy is electric, and when the thing being taught to me is something as basic as knowledge of my own body, that imbalance feels even more pronounced. I often envision my character in this roleplay as being either a virgin or the wife of a sexually clueless man (as I’m sure many Victorian men were), so that my doctor can introduce me to sensations totally new to me. Although in real life I’ve been a sex toy reviewer for 6+ years and an avid masturbator for much longer, in the headspace of this roleplay I can re-experience the magic of discovering new things my body can feel for the very first time.

Like many of my kinks, this one raises a moral dilemma for me. The whole idea of “female hysteria” is, of course, rooted in misogyny (not to mention cissexism), as are its treatments – whether imagined or real. But as I’ve discovered again and again with kink after kink, there can be something powerful about subverting your oppression into a source of pleasure. Though my boyfriend, playing the all-knowing doctor, is outwardly in control of the scene every time we do this roleplay, really it’s always me who’s in the driver’s seat. It’s me who requested this type of play, defined what I find hot about it, and set the boundaries I want respected. If I was born in Victorian times, maybe I’d be subjected to horrible medical interventions to “treat” my unacceptably high libido – but because I was born into this modern era instead, I get to explore authentic pleasure, guilt-free, with people who accept and adore both my libido and me. It’s a small comfort in a world still wracked by sexism and shame, but I’ll take what I can get.

 

Do you have any fantasies you feel guilty about? Have you ever experimented with hysteria roleplay or other types of medical play?

Monthly Faves: Southsides & Sweet Sadists

March was kind of a weird month for my mental health but I still managed to get fucked real good a bunch… Here were some of my fave things this month!

Sex toys

SheVibe sent me a Neon Wand a little while ago after I mentioned being curious about electrostimulation (thank you, sweet angels!) and I finally got to try it out with a partner this month. M’boyf strapped me down using my under-the-bed restraints and then proceeded to zap me all over various tender body parts until I turned into a subspacey mess. Full review to come!

• I requested a Liberator Axis from Betty’s Toy Box and I’m even more into it than I thought I would be. It’s a sexual positioning aid, much like the Liberator Wedge or Jaz, except it has a slot where you can insert your Magic Wand. Ideal for hands-free clitoral stimulation while getting fucked from behind or spanked!

• Did y’all know that it’s really fun to fuck someone with an Njoy Pfun plug while you’re blowing them? Well, it is.

Fantasy fodder

• I mentioned hysteria kink last month but I’m gonna talk about it again, dammit. One night in mid-March after a tipsy date at Northwood, my darlin’ was kissing and spanking me in bed when he suddenly said, “I want you to take off your panties and be my patient.” I knew immediately that he meant he wanted to enact the kind of medical-play scene we’d sexted about on many an occasion. Swoooon. I’ve fantasized about this type of play for a long time, so it felt especially magical to have him expertly pull an orgasm from my body with the Eleven and Doxy #3 while mumbling darkly about what a good patient I was and how much better I was going to feel after the procedure.

• Welp, you can file bootblacking under “things I liked in fantasy that I ended up liking even more IRL.” After plenty o’ sexting about it, my Sir and I finally gave bootblacking a shot this month, with him in a comfortable armchair and me on a leash at his feet. I got waaay more subspacey and trancey than I was expecting; it was meditative and lovely. And his shoes looked fucking great afterward.

• I’m experimenting with dominance a little these days. I’ve played with it before, but usually only with people I was exclusively dominant over; it’s rare I attempt to switch with people who normally dom me. But it’s been fun. I like roleplaying as a withholding mistress or a bratty blackmailing schoolgirl. (And I love that one of my favorite subby kink honorifics, “princess,” works just as well for me in a dominant role if we spell it with a capital P…)

Sexcetera

• Check me out on the Bed Post podcast! Erin and I had a great chat about hypnokink, DD/lg, sex spreadsheets, and more.

• I was so proud of my friend Suz this month when she relaunched her website and held a rad party to celebrate the occasion. There was a delicious signature cocktail called the Sex on the Peach, genitalia cupcakes, porn screenings, “CUM” balloons, a spanking booth, and more. I had so much fun dancing the night away to ’90s pop in a super slutty outfit. Congrats, Suz!

Femme stuff

• I bought sequinned leggings from the Gap and they’re so good. I used to own a pair like these in high school and I wore them so much they literally fell apart. Looking forward to going dancing in these; I’ll be a walking disco ball!

• My Sir ordered a couple custom pieces for me from L’Amour-Propre this month: a leash in the same blue suede as my collar, and a silver heart-shaped lock with “Daddy’s” engraved on it. We’re still feeling out exactly what the lock is for and under what circumstances I’ll wear it, but I’ve been wearing it on a silver chain and treating it as basically a fancier collar, and it’s so pretty!

• I bought a Dildorks shirt. It’s cute as fuck. You can order your own here!

Little things

Dinner and a comedy show with my bruddy. The boyf staying up with me on FaceTime til 2:30AM, helping me with a research project and making me laugh. Ukulele jam sessions. Making money doing what I love. Seeing Stacey Kent in concert after loving her music for like 15 years. My new tattoo, still. Giggling at Flo & Joan songs with Zoe over gin and tonics. My new roommate’s two cats (I have befriended… one of them). My sweet Sir asking if he could call me when I was having a bad mental health night by saying, “Are you sure you don’t just wanna hear my voice be silly and stuff? You don’t have to do anything; I can just be entertaining and complimentary.” Watching the hot bartender at the Crow’s Theatre make me a wonderful old-fashioned. My two favorite songs of the month, “Like or Like Like” and “Kidnap Me.” Pizza and wine with Rosaline, as per usual. Sir visiting me in Toronto, and getting to take him to my fave places. The breakfast special at Dooney’s. Crossing things off to-do lists. Sipping a Southside with my daddy while talking about D/s semantics.

Monthly Faves: Dildorks, Dresses, and Daddy

Wow, I got up to a lot of kinky shit this past month. Here were some of my favorite things in February…

Sex toys

• My partner is really into fucking me with the Njoy Eleven lately – or, more often, making me fuck myself with it while he instructs me on speed, strength, and depth over the phone. Nothing else in my collection feels quite like this toy. It’s really an astonishing piece of steel.

• Loving the purpleheart truncheon I picked up from Weal & Breech at the Playground Conference. It’s lovely and thuddy, the craftsmanship is beautiful, and I adore the included black leather wrist strap. This company’s wares are so classy and gorgeous, not to mention painful in the best way.

• I told a story at Tell Me Something Good about hypnokink (more on that next week!) and when I was selected to win a prize at the end of the night, someone suggested I choose the Ruse Hypnotize, for obvious reasons. I’ve used it a few times since then and it’s pretty good for its price point: a nice-quality silicone dildo of a satisfying shape and size, that can hit my A-spot and makes for pretty blowjobs on camera. (“Can confirm,” my boyf says.)

Fantasy fodder

• Ageplay is a new thing to my boyfriend, but he’s enjoying being my Daddy. We’ve done a few phone-sex scenes involving me being little and him teaching me a thing or two about my sexual anatomy, or his. Fuuuck, it’s so hot.

• We’ve also been talking a fair bit about bootblacking, one of those interesting kinks that came out of nowhere for me and that I can’t quite explain. I remember telling him on our first date that I liked his shiny shoes, and since then I’ve increasingly wanted to kneel in front of him, put my face/lips/tongue all over his shoes, shine ’em up, and so on. Maybe we’ll experiment with this in March when he comes to visit me.

• I’ve mentioned to my partner a couple times that I have long-time fantasies about Victorian “hysteria” treatments: having orgasms coolly administered to me by a medical professional for my own good. We did some intense in-character sexting about that this month (ain’t it nice when two improv geeks date?!) and he also mentioned wanting to strap me down and use my Zumio to extract an orgasm from me. Um, yes please.

Sexcetera

• It was neat to get to try the new Cowgirl vibrator at the Museum of Sex this month. Aside from concerns about its unnecessarily gendered name and marketing (which we discussed in-depth in a recent Dildorks episode), I enjoyed giving it a shot. My partner picked up the control panel and said “May I?” and I basically melted onto the floor. The Cowgirl is rumblier than the Sybian (at least, it’s rumblier than my 2.5-year-old memory of the Sybian) and I found it more comfortable to sit on. I think I’ll get to try it again soon at Suz’s blog relaunch party (which you should come to!).

• The Playground Conference fucking ruled. Some highlights of my time there: speaking on the opening plenary with a bunch of brilliant babes; my Sir ordering pizza and a cookie to my hotel room all the way from New York when I was too overwhelmed to figure out food for myself; Kevin Patterson shouting us out in his keynote; learning about turning fantasies into realities; recording a live Dildorks episode; spanking a couple of beauties with a bible and various other implements; seeing (and livetweeting) Bex teaching blowjobs; introverty dinners with clever cuties. So much love to the conference’s organizer Samantha Fraser, who is a total badass and deserves all the applause!

Femme stuff

• In discussing how to maintain our close but long-distance connection during the potentially distancing chaos that is a sex conference, I asked my Sir, “Would it make you feel good to choose my outfits for Playground?” He’s previously enjoyed this so I thought he’d like to do it some more, and I was right. I sent him photos of all the dresses I wanted to wear + my tentative schedule for the con, and he chose which dresses I should wear on which days. It was a cute way for me to feel connected to him even as I was hustlin’ and bustlin’ around a busy conference 500 miles from him.

Hippo Campus is my favorite band, and their merch makes me happy. I own three of their T-shirts now, because I’m a nerd, and they’re all I want to wear on lazy, loungey days. This one, a Christmas gift from my little brother, is my fave: so soft, so snazzy!

• I have a new tattooooo! Probably gonna blog about it eventually, I’d imagine. I went back to Laura Blaney, who did my thigh tattoos; she’s fantastic. It’s colorful and punchy and lovely and I’m excited for it to heal completely so I can show it off!

Little things

Solo theatre dates, front-row centre. Drinking a “Hot Dad Bramble” with my daddy. Slow-dancing to Warm Glow. Compersion. Starburst as aftercare candy. Valentine’s flowers. Getting tied up by a sweet, funny boy who was intermittently singing me showtunes. Wearing my collar to public appearances because Sir said so. Talking to Erin at the Bed Post Podcast about hypnokink, DD/lg, etc. Seeing improv shows with friends. Exciting coffee meetings about new projects. The “Pun Slut” pin my Sir bought me (so perfect). Fancy pens. Sir listening to my radio show and live-texting me his reactions for me to read during the commercial breaks. Getting my hair done and feeling like a queen. Maple cookies. Staying hydrated. Late-night giggly phone sex.

What I’m Into: Sex as a Service

I think I’ve always had a thing for sexual servitude. I remember feverishly reading fanfiction as a young teen and experiencing a surge of arousal when words like “deftly” and “expertly” were used. Something about the idea of being skilfully, deliberately serviced was really appealing to my adolescent brain. And it still is.

The movie Hysteria fanned the flames for me. It’s hardly intended to be sexy, but Hugh Dancy as a doctor giving frustrated women “hysterical paroxysms” with his hand or a crude vibrator? Oh, swoon. Gimme some of that. (I know the whole idea of “female hysteria” is incredibly sexist and problematic. But, like Dylan Ryan says: your fantasy life is your fantasy life.)

Nowadays my fantasies often drift to service-related scenarios:

• The aforementioned hysteria doctors – dressed in full garb complete with lab coats and stethoscopes, of course – being perfectly on time for our appointment and dedicating several minutes of focused attention to bringing me to orgasm. Bonus points if there is a speculum involved.

Hired escorts (male or female or sometimes one of each). In this fantasy I am typically a total pillow princess and just lay back while things are done to me. Maybe a domineering fuck while I’m sensory-deprived and tied up. Maybe a service-top scenario, where I’m only allowed to come when I’m told (but I will definitely come at some point). Maybe a long, slow massage with a happy ending. Hoooo boy.

• Rachel Kramer Bussel’s excellent story about a restaurant where women can receive oral sex from trained providers in a back room in between courses. (Dear RKB: Can we get together for cupcakes and an extended discussion of spanking and submission? Because I feel like we are totally on the same page about all of those things. Sincerely, GJ, your adoring fan.)

• A dutiful slaveboy who lives to please his mistress. Ideally one who prides himself on his stellar oral sex skills. I read a story (maybe in the anthology Tasting Her? which is also a Rachel Kramer Bussel publication?) where this male sub is so proud of his cunnilingual abilities that his domme decides to offer his services to a slew of other dommes at a sex conference party. Um. Sign me up.

Servitude is one of those strange fantasies that would never appeal to me in real life, at least not nearly as much as it does in my head. If I get the slightest inkling that my partner isn’t into what they’re doing or isn’t attracted to me, my arousal deflates like a punctured blow-up doll. I’m sure plenty of escorts, erotic masseuses and phone sex operators are skilled at creating the illusion of mutual enthusiasm, and I’m sure their customers love that, but I’m not sure I’d ever be able to relax enough to enjoy myself.

For now, though? I’m happy to fantasize about Dr. Hugh Dancy jerking me off under a medical blanket like he’s done it to hundreds of other women before me. Oh, doctor, you sure do know what you’re doing.

This post was made possible by the lovely folks at Babes of London! Kisses!