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Archive for October, 2009

“Now when I look at myself I feel like a woman,” says Ngozi, who says she has even experienced orgasms for the first time in her life. “It’s beautiful, I just love it, it feels like you’re melting. Before it irritated me when my husband tried to touch me, now I reach out to him.”

A doctor in Colorado is performing surgeries to restore sensation to women who have been genitally mutilated.

The doctor is herself a transgender woman, and learned the technique from a doctor in France (Genital reconstruction surgery is fully covered by insurance there: why don’t I live in France, again? ) who regularly receives death threats from radical Islamist groups for his work in this area and his other efforts to reduce violence against women.

I’ve always been despondent about the issue of female circumcision, as I am someone who is devoted to a life of pleasure and can’t imagine how awful it must be to have your sexuality violently stolen from you forever. I didn’t think there was any recourse once this was done to a woman. Now, with a combination of labiaplasty (if needed) and exposing the deeper parts of the clitoris, women are having sensation and a sense of normalcy restored.

Dr. Bowers does the surgery free of charge. Today, I’m inspired to do more for the cause of female pleasure and health.

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Someone just friended me on Facebook whom I haven’t seen in a while: an adorable, pigtailed, somewhat gender-queer boy I’ll call Paul. Paul is younger than I am, very smart, but generally demure around me in a way that drives me crazy. In that good way.

Looking at his picture, I’m reminded of a certain party I attended – not even a play party, but attended by many a freak – where, under the influence of several lovely cocktails, I spent some time with him kneeling at my feet while I pulled his hair. The sounds he made were absolutely delicious.

Dominance is a bit like Spanish for me: I do it better when my inhibitions are down. This isn’t to say that I generally play when I’m drunk; I hardly ever do, in fact, and I know that the party line says it’s a Bad Idea. It is to say, however, that at actual play parties, where drink isn’t allowed, I’m likely to spend a lot more time subbing. You’d think that someone who was a professional for four years would be better at asserting sexual dominance when the opportunity presented itself, but it turns out not so much. It’s a lot easier to be and do that without self-doubt when there’s someone paying you – it’s a fairly clear indicator that they want what you’ve got on offer.

Now and then I wish I had a sweet boy like that to play with from time to time. His relationship status says “It’s complicated.” A promising sign?

I’m often amused by how predictable my desires are. On the one hand, I’m a polyamorous switchy bisexual: it could be said that I don’t even have a type. But it turns out I have several, and what’s entertaining and occasionally distressing to me is how subversively heteronormative they are.

Bet you haven’t seen those two words next to each other very often.

What I mean is this. I am fairly femmy in appearance – very femmy, in fact, aside from the fact that I’m six feet tall and have a large frame. I like to be dominated by men who are manly: handsome, square-jawed men who look terrible in drag. I like commanding voices, sharp words, and cock.

I like, also, to be dominated by women who are manly: butch, short-haired women and bois in suits and ties who grab and take and twist and initiate. I like commanding voices, sharp words, and cock.

I like to dominate women who are more femme than I am. Girls in frilly dresses, with long hair to tangle my hands in and full breasts for me to alternately suck on and slap around, women who let their heads loll back and close their eyes as they part their lips. Makeup to mess up. Little intakes of breath and noises of pleasure. They bring out my butch, and I like to wear leather and strap on my silicone with them.

And I like to dominate men who are a little femmy, too. Not the humiliated sissy slut; as I’ve mentioned before, the kink of self-loathing is not my thing. But boys who look androgynous and sweet in skirts. Boys who can pull off pigtails, but still look like boys. Boys who blush and cast their eyes down when I flirt with them, and who turn to butter when I pull their heads back by the hair. Boys who start out demure but scream and buck and beg when they’re being fucked in the ass.

Growl. Now I’ve distracted myself.

But seriously. It almost bothers me. I’m queer in so many ways, and yet in my sex I continually enact the traditional binary in non-traditional ways.

What do you notice about the ways your sexuality recapitulates, or doesn’t, the expected norms?
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These past couple of weeks have been intense. Yesterday I took some time to visit my toppish sweetie, where, most times, we would spend most of the day in bed, with occasional stops to eat, nap, or take a walk. This day, though, he was tired like I was. We sexed around a little, but finally, after a nice lunch, cuddled up on the couch together and watched TV. Really. That’s about what we were up to.

The show we watched was Dexter, a Showtime thing I hadn’t heard of (I don’t have broadcast TV or cable). It’s a show about a sociopath: a serial killer who had the luck to have a foster father who could see what he was and direct his energies to do the least harm. The result? Dexter is a killer all right – there’s nothing else in life that gives him such satisfaction, makes him feel. But he only kills – you guessed it – uncaught serial killers.

I know that something continues to be very wrong with me, but I can’t help but find his character impossibly sexy. His meticulousness and precision. The way he moves. Even the way he kills: always quick and merciful, first tying the sedated victim down to a table using Saran Wrap, then getting them to confess (he is always sure of their crimes before he makes his move), then making a small cut in their faces to collect a sample of their blood on a slide (every serial killer needs a trophy collection), then delivering the fatal blow quickly before butchering them and disposing of their bodies.

Besides this, he works in forensics as a blood spatter analyst, and the wall behind his desk at work looks like Jackson Pollack ran out of everything but red paint. Blood is, as his voice over says, not just his job, but his life. And, it seems, his art, his passion, his sex.

What is it that makes sociopaths such compelling characters? People who are essentially psychotic by behavior, completely disconnected from human emotion and social codes – but who can fake it, make people think that they are human, even lovable. It’s fascinating, terrifying. And sexy. After all, what’s hotter than Hannibal Lechter?

Well. Christian Bale, maybe.

christian-bale

Sigh. My boy is certainly unique. Even sitting around watching TV with him is kinky.

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Back from all of my travels and travails, and now it’s time again for Monday Advice! (Shut up, it’s still Monday.)

Dear Delilah,

After a longish period of hesitation (ok, hiding under the covers) I’ve gotten back into dating and have met a very sweet guy who is also a top. We’ve been playing together and hanging out and things seem to be progressing very nicely.

There’s this thing, though. I’ve found that when I get submissive with him, that headspace sort of bleeds into our just hanging out time. I find that I just sort of..wait around for him to make decisions about what it is we’re going to do, for example, or just responding and not initiating. It’s frustrating and irritating (for both of us, I’m sure).

I don’t want to be doing this! I’d like to build a relationship with this guy, and I can’t very well do that if I’m not being forthright with him. Can you offer advice on how to ‘change gears’ more effectively?

Thanks for your help,
N.

I know I’m going to bore you to death with this answer, N, but as always: communicate, communicate, communicate. Do you know, for example, that this is irritating for him? Maybe he’s enjoying having you subby a lot of the time when he’s around. However, it’s obviously frustrating and irritating you, so it’s important that you get this problem out in the open with him and find a way to resolve it.

If you’re not interested in developing a 24/7 D/s relationship, then it’s especially important that this be resolved. Here are some suggestions.

Come up with some sort of ritualized beginning and ending to your play. Collars are great for this, although some people find that their symbolism is too intense. You may come up with a set of words to say that signals the completion of a scene, or you may put a piece of jewelry or clothing on your body that grounds you into your self. Come up with something that works for you to differentiate scene time from non-scene time.

You might also have him deliberately make you make a decision of some sort – where you will go for dinner, or what kind of music to put on – shortly after you play, to get you into non-subby mode.

On the other side of this, however, I would play with what it’s like to be subby in non-scene space, if this interests you. Just make sure that you’re doing it deliberately rather than as a default. Consciousness is key to full enjoyment, and you might enjoy quiet times with your guy in that soft space of compliance if you’re both aware and doing it on purpose. Just make sure, again, that you have your “key” or mechanism for getting out of that space when you want to.

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Apologies for the hiatus

Intense week over here, with limited Internets. I have some new questions (but I can always use more), and will be back with the column next week!

More as I’m able to report it.

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Monday Advice: A Sad Day

Oh woe, for lo, I am all out of questions.

The advice column depends on your questions! Comment here, or write to me with your questions, so that the column may resume!

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Following the hubbub around the misogynist remarks made by Rob at The Oh Team on This Week in Kink, a friend and former co-worker of mine made this for me. I feel loved.

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