T is for TRUST

“Tiger Scratches”, from a delicious and fun pre-negotiated scene where I got to say “yes” to straight razor cuts happily, and feeling safe. Photo by Jon Gunnar

Lately I have been feeling growth uncurl within me. A number of “I want tos” and “I wish I coulds” have been calling. I am ready, I think… Gulp. I read an article, imagine a scenario, pen a response… I want these things. Yes, I do.

This matters because all my life wanting has felt very unsafe to me.

Trust is an elusive imp playing tricks on what we think we want, pitting our desires against the gut’s “mmm… I don’t think so, no”… We learn to push this imp away our whole lives, listening to those around us who we feel pressured by. We learn to say “yes” when it feels like biting off more than we can chew. It’s hard to swallow, the experiences we motion ourselves through, after negotiations like these. Trust deteriorates in time, and we don’t know where we are anymore, what is good, or what we do because we think we’re supposed to. It takes time for us to learn to listen better to our guts, to our trust imps, in this life full of advertisements about what we’re supposed to want.

I do not really love sex. Perhaps this is because my first sexual experience happened at age 4, and it was a coercive, threatening, and manipulative situation which robbed me of my trust in friendship and trust for my own feelings of attraction. Maybe it’s because I was punished directly after escaping the situation, and so I carry this eternal kneejerk reaction to sexual attraction of distrust. Relationship negotiation holds within it a visceral fear that I’ll get in trouble if I pursue the thing I think I want… I get quiet and go even further away when people get angry or frustrated during sex, I glaze over when people make demands, and it’s been hard for most of my sexual history for me to stay present. I feel generally unsafe around other people’s perfectly natural desires for sex. I don’t want this though. For a lot of years I just did what other people wanted, or I measured the success of my relationships based around how regularly “it” was done, because I didn’t know how to actually connect during sex. Sex felt like a game I didn’t understand, a game I was always behind on the rules about, and I did what I thought I was supposed to because I couldn’t find my own desire for sex most of the time.

I’m glad I’m not there anymore (entirely). For me the key to trust and opening up was learning to say “no” and having my “no” respected and celebrated by those around me.

I was at a sex party once, and the theme was “asking for what you want”. Everyone came to the party prepared to practice asking for what they wanted — nothing was off the table. When everyone arrived we started our opening circle, we all had a turn introducing ourselves and revealing our first “ask” to the group. Mine was this:

I want to practice saying no. Would anyone be willing to spend some time propositioning me about various activities so I can practice saying no to them?

At the time it seemed kind of silly and counterproductive to (at a sex party) ask people to let me reject them. However, I have to say, this was one of the most healing and brilliant experiences I’ve ever had. That night’s exercise launched me into years of being able to practice my nos, so that I can actually now locate my maybes and yeses.

It was so hard to do, it turned out I needed a coach. I was approached by a few people at the party who wanted to play. They asked questions, to which I was supposed to say “no”, or “no, thank you”. It turned out I was impossibly bad at just saying no.

Them: Karin, may I kiss you?

Me: Oh, I love kissing, but maybe not right now?

Them: Well, can I pour hot wax all over your body?

Me: Wait, no fair, I love that activity! Um, maybe another time, not right now…

And so it went, with my “I’m really sorry I have to say no right now”, “well maybe later, it’s not personal, I just can’t right now”, or “that sounds interesting but I don’t think I can right now”, and so on…” Every “no” I gave was actually a maybe (?) or in reality, it was a “not-no”. I was finding it emotionally and psychologically extremely hard to pause, find my actual “no”, and simply say it while looking in the faces of my friends — friends who actively wanted me to say no!

I don’t think I’m the only person like this. I believe it’s a pretty normal response from a lot of people. I might even go as far as to say it’s probably exceedingly common among people who have experienced sexual trauma, from AFAB people in general, and I assume it’s a well practiced response from other minority people too. I think the art of “not no-ing” is heavily enculturated in our society. Part of what not no-ing is, is positioning yourself passively around a larger animal that might hurt you. Compliance is self-preservation. We hope to ease away from a situation while appearing compliant when we “not no”.

Simply put, I couldn’t put my foot down firmly because I was afraid to. Deep deep down, even in this safe space surrounded by encouraging friends I was terrified of saying no. I had one friend, let’s call her Jane, who was amazing that night. She kept asking the same question over and over again until I simply said “no” or “no, thank you”. After every qualification I made she shook her head and re-asked:

Jane: May I go down on you?

Me: That sounds really nice, but not now…

Jane: No, try again. May I go down on you Karin?

Me: No thank you, but not because I don’t like the idea of it…

Jane: May I go down on you Karin?

Me: Um, no, but ask me again sometime?

Jane: May I go down on you Karin?

Me: … … … (deep breath, crying a little, terrified) … … No. Thanks.

Jane: (Looking me in the eyes) Thank you, Karin. I’m really glad you told me no.

(I’m still really emotional reading that.)

I wish I could say I was cured from that point onward, but I haven’t been. I do know a lot more about my feelings now, and I know how to slow down and listen to myself better. As a rule these days I pause after being asked for something sexual or sensual, I try to find my “no”, and I don’t say “yes” until I can imagine doing the activity and imagine (or feel) myself wanting to do it. If I can’t imagine doing the thing, or doing things leading up to the thing, I say “no”. If I can imagine doing it and enjoying it, I say “I’d like to try”, and sometimes also “I don’t know if I’m totally into the idea, but I’d like to see if I can get into it, so I’d like to check in a bunch while we try”. If I’m ecstatically into the idea of what’s proposed, I say, “yes, I’d love to!” Sometimes when I realize I’m not into a proposed idea, while I’m finding my “no”, I’ll think of something I want to try instead. In those moments I’ll say “No, I don’t want to ____, but I’d like to ____ if you’re interested in that instead?”. Honest negotiation is what ensues.

If I can’t trust your “no”, I can’t trust your “yes”. This is where I have learned to stand, and it’s a radically helpful idea to hold onto. It has helped me communicate more directly, clearly, and unapologetically about sex, BDSM, and my boundaries with people. After practicing it over the years it’s become more and more easy to communicate about (and even feel) my feelings. I’ve found a lot of people I’m negotiating with appreciate these conversations too. Most people are struggling on some level with social expectations or worse when it comes to sensuality and sexuality. When I am direct and lead with my boundaries and desires, I find other people often feel safer talking about what they do and do not want as well. I’ve been able to negotiate lovely and crazy-seeming things with people consensually and to great end because we negotiated by asking one another about what we don’t want, which then frees us to outline exactly what we each do want. This in turn leads us to more deeply trust each other and ourselves in the process.

Play On My Friends,
~ Creature (Crea)

If you like my blog, please check out my Patreon Page and support me. For one time donations click here: Support the Artist

~Thank you.

New Love: Latex

Mistress Couple and myself making rubber magic!

L is for Latex, R is for Rubber Bands (ouch), B is for Balloons — last weekend’s activities smelled of rubber and felt even better… I have always eyed the latex at fetish cons, but never tried it on. The price tag was too heavy, and it seemed like a pain in the ass to deal with knowing I wasn’t going to buy any — in full disclosure, I am a sniffer though, and I have lingered in rooms just for the smell of it. Over the years I’ve gazed long and hard at alien-like designs in smooth black rubber stretched over bodies making animated oil slicks and curvy, tight, sausages from people’s soft structures. Photographs of the Rubber Ball were an alluring fascination for my imagination years before I found my place in the kink community: what did these people do (other than look sexy fabulous)?

I’ve tried a few different drugs in my time, but I’ve never felt so perfectly high as I did wearing a borrowed latex dress to a kink party. Seriously. I could not keep my hands off myself. After stroking the latex over and over again I couldn’t stop touching my own hands too — they felt different after petting the non-porous completely smooth second skin. I was grateful that my clothing attracted not only my own sensational desire, but the hands and caresses of others all night long. This Creature was very, very happy. I got to experience being shined with latex lube which encouraged more petting and a professional attention and pressure. It resulted in an illumination and glow to the slick rubber holding me in which was stunning. Temperature play and getting wet are entirely new worlds through this material too, and after a good paddling the heat radiating off my ass through a latex skirt was fabulous.

Latex is bondage. I’ve always been partial to steel boned corsets, and though latex alone won’t hold my spine up straight, the sensation of being sucked in everywhere my dress covered my skin was a phenomenal secret bondage for the night. Being held by this stretchy, strong, thin material was a practice in constriction I adored. The Baroness (latex designer and absolutely wonderful diva person) said something to the effect of “everyone thinks wearing latex is about looking good for other people, but really it’s all about how you feel in it. It’s for you”. I must agree one hundred percent. I felt incredible. And yes, it smooths out some lines, but I didn’t even care what rolls or lines were evident, as the sensation of this skin tight material was truly a beautiful one.

I felt powerful in latex, sensual, animal, and sexy… I feel sorry for those allergic to it, and glad my irritation only extends to the mucous membranes. Rubber Latex proves to be an aphrodisiac to this sex-ambivalent kinkster. What a wonderful gift, once again, Mother Nature has provided for our pleasure.

Play On My Friends,
~ Creature (Crea)

If you like my blog, please check out my Patreon Page and support me. For one time donations click here: Support the Artist

~Thank you.

Domineering Brutish Communication

Is rampant on social media…

Makes me want to cry when I’m pre-menstrual…

Is extremely common in privileged and dominant culture circles…

Is not BDSM.

I am not saying kinky people communicate better than non-kinky people (oh, so very far from it in many cases, let me tell you), but I am saying that there is something about having privilege in your lived experience which frequently leads to less finely honed tools in the toolkit concerning those subjects. Without a certain amount or type of struggle in one’s life, blunter brute force often rears its head over a practiced grace like listening, not personalizing, and questioning the space between what you are hearing and the intentions and/or blindsightedness of the other speaker (and when I say speaker I frequently mean typer).

Is it really so hard to find those places within ourselves where we pause and question what someone is saying, rather than treating them as though they are inherently the enemy because we’re uncomfortable being pointed out as incorrect or less than perfectly evolved in our communicative efforts? Can we really not imagine that we are the bad guy? I’ve fucked up so many times in my life it’s, well, normal. If I didn’t face my fuck-ups though, I would still be that jerk making the same mistakes over and over again, winning the hearts and minds of precisely no one who isn’t exactly like me.

Truth: when someone hurts my feelings somewhere deep down inside (or superficially, clearly, and longingly), I want them to hurt too. I want them to feel pain and apologize for mine and do things which will comfort me and make me feel better and take away my pain. This is a very normal basic instinct. It is, though, not the best model for behavior, connecting with others, or having friendships last past our first conflict. Why are so many (often online) battles stuck in this space of reaction and attack? Why is it so hard to say “I’m feeling hurt”, and “I’m also feeling hurt” or “I’m afraid you’re mad at me or think I’m a horrible person for doing/saying something which hurt you” or “I’m sorry, what am I missing here”?

What makes us name call instead of question?

What inside us settles upon sarcasm and demeaning language instead of concern?

Two of the best pieces of advice I was ever told were:

  • Trust minorities. Believe them when they tell you things.
  • “Like”, support, and work to amplify the voices of minority people.

The reason these ideas are important is because people who have struggled know more about their struggles from personal and frequently institutional, educational, and communal sources. Someone who can tell you what it’s like to be X, probably also knows more about the subjects concerning X’s oppression than people who aren’t X. So if you care about X people, or even just want to know one X person better, or don’t want to piss X people off it’s a really good practice to listen to what X people say about Xness, and let them know you value their voices in your world.

This means a LOT of men, a lot of white people, a lot of straight people, a lot of cis people, a lot of nondisabled people, a lot of middle and upper class people, and a lot of institutionally well educated people need to learn to listen when someone who is not those things tells them that what they are saying hurts them. This is an opportunity for empathetic or sympathetic response rather than brutish debate strategy. There are always really legitimate reasons we have the blind spots we have in our language, in our logic patterns, in our communication attempts, and in our belief systems, but those blind spots being upheld as legitimate points of view isn’t the point if human connection is the ultimate goal… This means that the more privileged I am in a room, the more I listen and the less I talk. It means when I do talk, I try to speak through asking questions — legitimate questions, not leading ones trying to take back control of a personally uncomfortable narrative.

If you want to get in my pants I actually need to trust you care for the whole reality of the me that is actually living in these pants. Politics surrounding various identities are not truths applying to everyone’s life, but they’re great guidelines for understanding the struggles groups of people face. No one is their identities, but by connecting to and naming our identities, we have unique opportunities to find compassion for ourselves and others. Through exploring identity we are granted new horizons for considering intersectional realities which can help us not put our feet in our mouths frequently around people we want to figure out how to connect to and play with.

This is a lot, yet seemingly necessary, to simply state: play nice (even/especially if you need to be taught how to by the person you’re playing with because they’ve struggled institutionally and/or personally in ways you haven’t).

Play On My Friends,
~ Karin

If you like my blog, please check out my Patreon Page and support me. For one time donations click here: Support the Artist

~Thank you.

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