The Words I Claim

“The day I changed was the day I quit trying to fit into a world that never really fit me.”
– JM Storm

At some point, I became aware that I am many things that our society does not like. I am queer, I love more than one, I am mentally ill, I am a woman who speaks her mind and won’t shut up and loves sex. I felt weird, out of place, and sometimes broken. For a long time, I wondered what was wrong with me.

It took me even longer to realise there is nothing wrong with me.

At some point, I realised I could claim the words that had once been used to hurt me. I realised that it was others who had ascribed negative value judgements to those things and that I did not have to accept them if I didn’t want to. That was the day I began to step into my identity.

So yes, I claim the word queer. You don’t get to throw at me, with hatred in your voice, the most beautiful part of my identity. I love women, I love men, and I love people between and outside and beyond this binary. You will never make me feel ashamed of that again.

I claim polyamorous. Our society tells us that we must only love one person. Not only that, but we must only ever have loved one person for it to be real and true, rendering all other loves retroactively invalid. Love isn’t more pure and true by virtue of how many people you extend it to, or don’t. Love one or love many, it’s all wonderful. Because love? Love is everything.

I claim slut. Depending on who you ask, slut is a term of empowerment or the worst thing a woman can possibly be. Slut, when you throw it at me hatefully, says that you see that I live my sex life on my terms and you can’t stand that. Slut, to me, means that my body is mine, my sexuality is mine, my choices are mine.

I know it makes many people uncomfortable, whether it’s because they think people like me are dangerous or in a more benign-ableism “your illness doesn’t define you” way, but I claim mentally ill. I didn’t ask to be born with a chemical imbalance in my brain or to live through traumas that would leave lasting scars. But that’s the hand life gave me. And no, maybe it doesn’t define me, but it does impact my life every day. And I have survived and even thrived in the face of that, so hell yes, I claim it.

Women like me, women who speak their minds and won’t minimise themselves for men’s comfort, are often called difficult. I think I was 15 the first time someone told me I was difficult, too opinionated, too much. What I understand now is that that said far more about them than me. So yes, I claim difficult woman. If you can’t handle someone who won’t make herself smaller, well, that sounds like a you problem.

Finally, I claim survivor. People don’t like to acknowledge that abuse happens, let alone how widespread it is. They don’t want to see it because once they see it, truly see it, they will feel compelled to speak up against it. Most people do not want to or cannot do that so instead, they shut down and deny that it exists. What happened to me was not my fault or my choice, but I get to decide what I do with it. I was hurt but I survived, and I am proud to claim the label of survivor.

Quote Quest badge, for a post about making amends when you fuck up

I wrote this post as part of Quote Quest, a fun blogging meme by Little Switch Bitch. Each week there’s a new quote for inspiration. Click the logo to see what everyone else is writing this week! Oh, and if you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee.

Masturbation Monday: “Words Words Words”

A woman's breast just out of the water in a bubble bath with erotic words written on it.There aren’t many rules in our dynamic. My Sir is pretty laid back and isn’t really interested in micromanaging me or placing so many restrictions upon me that I’m bound to trip over one or another. One of the rules I do have to follow, though, is this: I’m not allowed to talk negatively about myself.

I’m so sick of this fucking thesis. I’ve been battling it for weeks and every time I think I’ve beaten it into some form of shape, I find something else wrong with it that needs fixing. I sigh and shut my laptop with a click. Put my head in my hands on the desk. Across the room, Sir spins around in his chair to look at me.

“You okay, Kitten?”

“I can’t do this!” I blurt out. “Just… I can’t. I’m too fucking stupid to do this. Why did I think I could?” Fuck. It takes me a second to realise I’ve broken the rule.

“Kitten…” his voice has a note of warning in it. I almost no longer care.

“What? It’s true”.

He pushes back from the desk and stands. “Come upstairs with me. Now”. Shit. I follow him meekly. In the bedroom, he tells me to take off my clothes and lie face up on the bed. My mind starts to race as I strip off. What’s he going to do? I was expecting possibly a spanking, but he clearly has something else in mind. That’s when I notice he’s got his favourite fountain pen in his hand.

He straddles me on the bed, his knees either side of my thighs. He’s still fully dressed. He pops the cap off the pen.

“Keep still,” he tells me.

“Sir?”

“I’m sick of you putting yourself down. Obviously punishing you hasn’t worked, so we’re going to try something else. Don’t move. If you squirm and make me mess up, I will punish you”.

The pen makes contact with my stomach first, just below my belly button. It tickles. I squeak but manage not to move. He’s writing something. I can’t tell what. Higher up my stomach, he writes something else. Then he leans over and adorns each of my breasts with yet more words. Down both my arms, along my collarbone, along the tops of my thighs.

He shifts position and uses one of his legs to make me spread mine. I resist the temptation to grind my cunt into his knee. His hand so close to my cunt that it brushes against the outer lips, I can feel myself growing wet. He writes something on my inner thigh. And just like that, this tiny bit of non-stimulation is all I get and he’s pushed my legs back together and is writing something on my lower abdomen. The whole thing probably takes less than five minutes, though it feels like much longer. He sits back and replaces the pen cap.

“Now go and look in the mirror”.

I hop up and cross over to the full-length mirror in the wardrobe door. For the first time, I see the words he’s written all over my body in his beautiful handwriting.

Beautiful. Capable and competent. Imperfect perfection. Talented. Kind. Funny. Sexy. Cute. Gorgeous. Smart. I feel tears starting to prickle in my eyes.

I part my legs to see what he wrote on my inner thigh, close to my cunt. The word is backwards in the reflection but there is no mistaking what it says, his favourite of all the words he uses about me: MINE. The first tear spills over.

He comes over and brushes the tear from my cheek. “Don’t cry, Kitten. You’re going to stand there for fifteen minutes and feast your eyes upon your gorgeous body with the way I see you written all over it. Then I’m going to bend you over and fuck you while you read them all back to me”.

Masturbation Monday is created and owned by Kayla Lords. Click the logo to see what’s getting everyone off this week. Featured image is the utterly gorgeous Livvy and was first published as “Erotica“.

Top Sexting Tips

I’ve been doing a lot of sexting recently, and it’s pretty awesome. Being one of those ridiculous “surgically attached to my phone” millennials and also having a tendency to crush on attractive humans who live far away from me, it’s a pretty ideal way to keep sexual connections going – and spark new ones – amidst my busy life.

Close ups of two peoples hands as they type on their phones. For a post about sexting.

I think – based on feedback and the high rate of return customers (as it were) – that I am a pretty good sexter. This was not always the case. My second long-term boyfriend was the first person I sexted with, and back then I couldn’t muster much more than “*moan*” or “mmm”. Which, you know, are fine… but they’re not really enough.

So, based on a good amount of experience, trial and error, here are my top tips for good sexting.

1. Pay attention

This is actually probably the single biggest tip for sex in general, but it’s particularly important when someone’s words are all you have to go on. With sexting, there are no body-language or tone or breathing cues. So watch what they’re saying and now they’re responding.

Are you getting a lot of positive feedback? Are they virtual-moaning in response, telling you it’s making them wet/hard/distracted, adding their own bits to the sexy narrative you’re building together? If you’re getting one-word, vague or noncommittal responses, it’s probably a good time to pause and check in if this is working for them. They might need a change of direction for the chat, or it might be a bad time to sext entirely.

Pay. Attention.

2. Mirror their words back to them

What terms do they use? Are there particular phrases that come up again and again?

This is particularly relevant when it comes to things like what to call body parts. Real talk: I hate the word pussy. Fucking hate it. I refer to my genitals as my cunt or my vulva (or occasionally my “vag” or “foof” if I’m being silly). If I repeatedly use the words I like, and you keep coming back at me with the ones I hate, I’ll assume you’re either not paying attention (see point 1) or deliberately disregarding my preferences. Either way, it’s not a good look and won’t lead to happy sexty times.

This is also particularly relevant when it comes to kink dynamics. Many people have very strong associations with certain words, good or bad. If they describe themselves as a “filthy little slut,” that’s probably something they’d be into it if you said to them. Listen, and mirror their language and style of speech back to them… as well as demonstrating your own preferences and interests for them to mirror back to you!

3. Keep it simple

Sexting is not a good time for flowery prose. (For real, there is no good time for flowery prose in my opinion). Others’ mileage may vary, but if you’re sexting with me at least, don’t use 50 words where 5 will do.

“I’m gonna eat your cunt then fuck you until I’m satisfied” is much better than “I will stick my tongue into your sweet honeypot and devour your delicious nectar until your orgasms burst forth like flowers in bloom, and then I will probe the depths of your mysterious caverns with my semi-moist treat stick…”

(Unless you want your sexts to become an entry in #EuphOff, that is).

4. Don’t be afraid to explore new territory…

Text is a great and low-pressure, relatively low-risk way to test out new kinks and fantasies that you might not be sure about. This could be anything from mentioning an interest to a partner for the first time if you’d be too nervous to say it in person, to trying out a new honorific or a new form of humiliation play that you’re not 100% sure about.

5. …But move carefully and with consent. 

Don’t pull a sudden extreme turn in the conversation without your partner’s input and consent! If you want to try something new, introduce it gently. Try a phrase like one of these:

“I wonder how you’d react if I…”

“I kinda want to call you…”

“How do you feel about…?”

“I’ve been fantasising a lot about…”

Judge their reaction. Proceed accordingly. I’ve had loads of sexting conversations where someone has suggested something the other person isn’t into, and as long as you’re receptive to that, things can recover and carry on just fine.

Example:
I’d really like to tie you up.
“I’m not okay with full restraint, but you could pin me down.”
Ooh! My hands on your wrists…

6. Approach it as a collaboration, not a performance.

Actually, again, this is good “sex in general” advice. Sexting is all about building a hot, steamy scenario together with your partner(s). It’s not a monologue or a one-man show. It’s best to go in without a super specific idea of where you want the chat to go, and allow it to grow organically as you both have your input and follow the energy wherever it leads.

And those are my tips. What are your top guidelines for sexy sexting?