Sex.

 

Love's Recovery~Indigo Girls

All right, I got your attention with the title, so let me explain why it's not for me, at least, not right now. 

I came of age in a world where AIDS was the BIG illness, not Covid19, condoms were the mask to protect, abstinence was preached in my public school health classes, as a viable option in deterring any STDs or pregnancy mishaps.  The basics of how to prevent such alongside a brief description of adolescent changes were all that were given, while Hollywood and Disney spoon fed the illusion of the perfect romantic union.  Sex was then something to be both feared yet a very real necessity for romantic relationship.  As I watched Dylan woo Brenda on Beverly Hills, 90210, then later Donna give it up to David in a romantic rose petal strewn bedroom complete with the safe sex moment, I longed for, imagined almost to the detail, my own perfect moment. 

What I got, time and time again, was, although at times beautifully fulfilling and special, was also, at other times, sorely lacking and besought with devastation.  

Okay, don't get me wrong, I am not gonna launch into an article on why the purity culture is pretty darn amazing and we all should become born-again fundie virgins...no, that time of my life is way far behind me and as much as I can say that the idealism of longed-for romantic sex unrequited broke me, the toxicity of purity culture helped not either.  Actually, becoming a fundie born-again virgin, rather abstaining from sex, was the only part of that mindset that was acceptable by me, a demi-grey-sexual, who doesn't require or desire sex on the regular anyway.  The devastating part of purity culture, rather, was the overly emphasis on the female need to cover in modesty her body in order to assist the male's need not to stumble, the male who could not resist his natural urges, thus it was the female's fault for his stumbling, purity culture equal rape culture!

Thus, during my time as a fundie-Christian and the years of deconstruction, I suffered with extreme body dysmorphia, hatred, and shame for any part of my physical that represented sexuality or seemed alluring.  Moreover,  carrying into my chosen path of fundie christianity days was the shame of not truly 'waiting', of giving it up before I 'said the sinner's prayer'.  Despite the pulpit's championing that being a 'born-again virgin' was good enough, it never truly was, I remained always 'damaged goods', more shame poured upon by an already controlling organization.  ("Get outta my uterus!" my current self screams to them on behalf of my younger self.)

Alongside this, there are the years previous to fundamentalist, then the years after, relationships that turned sexual, in one way or another, that left me lacking, to say the least.  The physical exoticness' of the event overall was enjoyable but the act itself at times left me empty, causing more of an increase of my love addiction brain to further desire the intimacy, the closeness, yet never to be received fully.  Sex, in all its dimensions, seems only transactional, two bodies, at least for me, coming together for the sole purpose of the physical, leaving me feeling addled.  

Furthermore, in an allosexual world, I have felt increasingly lonely in my lack of sexual desire, not feeling understood until finally finding my place upon the asexual spectrum.  Demi-Sapio-Sexual, baby, and proud!  But, this loneliness also extends to the emotional intimacy and romantic intention lacking in past sexual experiences, (not all, mind you, current or former partners who may be reading this), that which wounded either due to not fulfilling my dream being modeled to me on the set of "Beverly Hills, 90210" and the like, or even the male partner's intention to just get down to brass tacks, with no sensuality whatsoever.  

Thus, all of this included with my first year of recovery from love addiction, leads me to the open decision to currently abstain for a season, not forever, such that I focus on the establishment of true, healthy intimacy with a romantic partner in the daily life as well as special events, while fully healing, becoming to understand and express my core values, my needs as well as red flags in a relationship of any sort, and laying down the boundary of self-respect overall.

I don't want to play this game no more 

I don't wanna play it 

I don't want to stay 'round here no more

 I don't wanna stay here Like rain on a Monday morning 

Like pain that just keeps on going on 

Look at all the hate they keep on showing 

I don't want to see that 

Look at all the stones they keep on throwing

 I don't want to feel that Like Sun that will keep on burning

 I used to be so discerning, 

oh In my recovery 

I’m a soldier at war 

I have broken down walls 

I defined

 I designed

 My recovery

James Arthur - Recovery (Lyrics)

In this Town: Chapter Seven: Bondage & Friends

Chapter 7: Bondage & Friends

I arrived at the riverfront house just shy of 8 pm and pulled into the driveway. The memory of my first evening at this place flashed back into my mind. I stepped out of my car, wearing my tan long coat, the one I'd worn on my first encounter with Ken, and headed up the walkway. Knocking on the door, I breathed in with anticipation, who would I meet on the other side?

The door swung open and before me stood, Mitch Wheeler, top town lawyer and father of my former class-mates, Jacob and Becky, in nothing but black leather shorts and a long leash and collar around his neck. His chest was bare with a smattering of black hair across it. A flicker of recognition danced across his face before he handed me a folded up neat wad of cash which I deposited quickly into my purse. I stepped in and immediately was all business.

“You will address me as “Mistress” from here on,” I commanded. He nodded dutifully. I turned my back to him and demanded he help me out of my coat, which he did bowing his head.

“Down on all fours, dog,” I pointed towards the ground.

“Yes, mistress,” he said, immediately ducking down onto the ground. Standing there, in a very short skin-tight black dress and heels to match, I took his leash in hand and yanked. “Lead me to the bedroom.”

He started crawling towards the hallway and down we went towards the bedroom. I tried to keep from my mind the memory of the time I spent with Joe in that room. We entered and I noticed he had laid out several tools necessary for the evening, a couple differently sized whips, handcuffs, and attached to the bed frame were two long ties for hands. I pulled the chain and commanded him to kneel in the corner. He did so and I walked towards the table, picking up a long slender whip and blindfold and headed towards him.  I walked back to him slowly, stroking the whip between my hands. Tying the blindfold tightly over his face, I then ran the whip softly down his cheek, down his hairy chest, played it slowly over his crotch, before dragging it luxuriously towards his backside where I slapped it against him. He let out a groan of delight. I hit him again and again. He groaned pleasurably ever louder. I found myself loving this for the sheer joy of it.

“Dog,” I said, helping him to his feet. “Follow me.”

I commanded him to lay on the bed and tied his hands above his head to the bedposts. I dragged the whip over his body again and down towards his crotch. His bulge growing increasing more and more larger. With my free hand, I began pulling down his shorts slowly. I leaned down and brushed my tongue on either side of his penis. He wailed slowly and writhed in ecstasy. I smacked the whip on his chest and he whimpered in delight.

I quietly made my way to the front hallway and pulled a condom out of my purse. When I reached the room again, I surveyed him before me. Here was the top lawyer of the town, powerful and well-known for his successes in the courtroom, stripped and tied laying blindfolded before me, legs open. A feeling of power surged over me as I wondered what other town secrets and sins would I discover in this vocation. I walked over to him and slipped the condom over his penis. He licked his lips hungrily as I stroked him with my hands, then let the whip's edge do the same. Pulling up my dress around my waist, I climbed atop him and guided him into me. As I rode him, he buckled beneath me and I hit his chest deliciously with the chest as I brought him to completion.

Once down, I slid out of him and let his body unravel before untying him and removing the blindfold. He stood before me on the bed, almost like a lost puppy on a street corner. I smiled at him, as I pulled down my dress preparing to depart.

“You look familiar?” he said at last. “Do I know you?”

“Maybe, maybe not,” was all I would give.

“What's your name?” he asked at last.

“Anna,” was all I would give.

“Anna what?”

I thought to myself, then smiling saying, “Anna Zin, the Duchess of the Night.”

He smiled up at me then and said, “Well, Anna Zin, The Duchess of the Night, so nice to meet you, I hope to meet again.”

I looked down at him and said, “Please you to remember me as 'mistress.'

He nodded, “Of course, Mistress.” As I started to leave the room, he called out to me, “If you ever need anything, some help in the outside world, call me.”

I turned and nodded with a smile, then tossed my hair and quickly left. Grabbing my coat and purse and heading into the night.

The next day I began packing up my meagre house-hold items preparing for the move into Max's apartment, one more step into freedom and my new life.

That evening I handed Max a wad of bills in the amount he had requested, he took it with a grin and we toasted with cheap red wine in plastic glasses with Disney cartoons on them before he headed off to the work at the hotel.

Joe called and wanted to come over to see the new place. He arrived a half hour later, bearing a bag full of Chinese take out. We ate it, finishing the red wine along with it and I told him of the night previous.  He chuckled over the details of the top lawyer's tastes and loved the new title I had claimed.

Later after “watching cartoons” in my new bedroom on the bed that had been left by a former room-mate of Max's, we held each other in the darkness, our naked bodies pressed against each other.

“Well, quite a success our little venture has been,” he whispered to me. I looked up at him and smiled in the dark. “Yes, it has.”

He leaned down and gave me a long kiss. When he pulled away, I whispered, “Shouldn't you be getting ready to leave?”

He was quiet for a moment, never taking his arm from me, and then said, “No, I think I'll stay.”

Without thinking, I replied, “For how long?”

“As long as I can.”

That was satisfactory. I snuggled up against him and fell fast asleep with delight.   

To Sir With Love