Category Archives: Feminism

Less A Woman

At some point in the last ten years, I began equating my femininity with my sexuality. I don't know when or how this happened. I suspect that Chris's concerted efforts at making me feel beautiful and sexy – often while we were doing something sexually arousing – contributed. But, in the end, the mental connection was one I made.

That was all well and good until sometime around Halloween, when gynecological issues (you may know more detail than that if you follow my twitter feed) interrupted* our sexual and spanking play. Increasingly as November went by and by, I felt more and more blue. It might have been, as some have experienced, a natural consequence of the month and season. But when December and Advent came, and my mood continued in a relatively consistent downward spiral, I started being my introspective self.

You'll notice I stopped blogging. It's because I knew what I wanted to say. I knew I wanted to say it. But I didn't know quite how. I didn't know quite how to say it without it seeming like it was Chris's fault. I couldn't quite write it down without a solution.  I couldn't imagine having to respond to the practical advice of just be patient to anyone more than my doctor and overly patient husband.  (BTW, phone call to the doctor next week, as soon as we're back in town again.) I'm still not sure I'm saying anything worth actually writing down.

You see, we weren't having sex. Or spanking. And so, you see, I felt increasingly … well, ugly. Unwanted. Unwomanly. Asexual. It didn't matter that we were being intimate occasionally. Chris does enjoy oral sex (seriously, I don't know any man who doesn't) and he was able to stimulate me to orgasm, though less so as December dragged on and on and on, and my blue-ness and depression sort of worsened.

When it came time to pack for vacation, I wasn't really excited. And I'm afraid my lack of enthusiasm for much of anything contributed to the problem – why would Chris want to be intimate with me when I must have been patently uninterested? To be sure, I was uninterested in anything:  paying attention to him, working consistently, doing housework, cooking, shopping, going to Animal Kingdom and Hollywood Studios…  And I knew why. I just couldn't do anything about it. 

As the weeks passed, and the relationship between my sexuality and my femininity crystallized. I knew what was missing quite keenly (sex, spanking, kink, naked intimacy, hormonal balance, etc) and there I was, making an effort to put a facade on for the world that Christmas was coming and that everything was cheery and glorious.

Chris and I had proper sex for the first time in nearly two months on Christmas night. It was in a strange bed, in a different state, and I was so relieved I almost cried. It'd been so long that we had to think even about the position, and clearly Chris's wrist is out of shape. Boxing Day saw a repeat. Monday was a lost cause – the 20 hours spent fighting airports and airplanes and traveling was a loss – despite the best of plans I was just happy to collapse onto my own pillow last night and Chris was already snoring.

He woke me up at 5:30 this morning to fuck my ass.

I think that might have been the best Christmas present yet.

I realized this morning that, despite a vicious cold virus, I feel almost whole again. I haven't been spanked yet (staying with family and all) though we have plans to do that in a bit when the princess is off on a playdate. It promises to be a significantly painful event, made more so by my near-virgin bottom, his itchy palm and my recent acknowledgment that a significant spanking (and other bottom-related attention-getting activities) would help balance me.

So now I am wondering how I can break this sad link I have made in my head. Clearly I am a woman, whether I am celibate or sexually active. But feeling like I am not one – or less of one than I ought to be – is clearly getting in the way of my productivity, cheerfulness and wifely compatibility.

Help!

 

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* According to WordPress, I spelled femininity, interrupted, and gynecological all right on the first try! Whee! I even checked to be sure spell check was on!

Domestic Discipline vs. What We Do

Dyke Grrl's explanation in the comments section of the last post regarding why the term "domestic discipline" doesn't work for her reminds me of a conversation A. and I were having a few months back. It was about my bedtime and there were a number of factors complicating what should be a fairly straightforward issue. "I'm just following your lead," A. said finally. "Let me know what you want me to do and I'll do it."

I remember chuckling to myself at the time and thinking you'd never hear that sort of thing on most domestic discipline sites. But then, I've never really considered our disciplinary arrangement "domestic discipline."

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Consentual Nonconsent and Other Issues of Equality

Over on "My Bottom Smarts" Bonnie asks the questions:

  1. Is it possible to be submissive and equal simultaneously?
  2. Does the fact that you submit to spanking negatively impact your standing in your relationship?
  3. Do you or your partner view you as the lesser member of the relationship, or are you equal in all things other than spanking?

Bonnie's answers are great — I wasn't sure how much I had to add.  However, the issue of equality and inequality in discipline and punishment relationships comes up quite a bit so I thought maybe I could put a bit of a PB twist on the questions, so to speak.

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Kinks in My Punishment Kink: The Feminist Question

As I’ve mentioned a few times both here and on my personal blog, this last year found me struggling a great deal with my punishment kink. Some of the concerns have been lingering beneath the surface since I first started exploring my spanking fetish. Others have developed more recently. In the end, however, it all came down to four little words: but I miss it. There’s a certain buzz I get from the profound vulnerability that comes with the punishment kink and the intimacy that vulnerability produces is nothing less than amazing.

I started chipping away at all these issues in one post but eventually realized that, even if I managed to write said post (which kept feeling more and more unwieldly), nobody would ever actually read it because it would be too damn long. 😉 So, I finally decided that it would be more manageable to write and read if I broke it up into a series of posts.

The first issue is one that has been a more recent question as the beginning of the year found me connecting with my inner Appalled Feminist.

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Sexism

I’ve decided that I’m very annoyed by people who write incredibly sexist things regarding domestic discipline (or whatever you want to call it – I think for the purposes of this blog WWD, or What We Do, seems to sum it up best). I’m tired of reading long essays describing how best to take a woman in hand, or deal with her "feminine misbehavior" or any of that SHIT. (I didn’t ask if profanity was okay … If it’s not, I’ll edit it. Or take some paddle swats for it. 🙂 I know a guy on the couch in the next room who’d be happy to oblige). Why does that attitude seem so prevalent in this "scene?"  And yes … I know there are MANY guys out there who don’t take that line, but there are a lot who do. And even some women who do …

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What do you call it?

Domestic Discipline, Corporal Punishment, Discipline and Punishment, Parental Spankings, Masculine Authority, D/s, BDSM, WIIWD, Guardian / child, so many terms and still I can’t find one I like….

My partner Paul and I were talking a few nights ago about we’d call what we do. I told him I’m not fond of the term “domestic discipline” because it carries too much “male authority” baggage with it. I used to talk about him as my “guardian” but that carries the sense of me not being an adult, which I am. On some other sites, I cringe a little at the thought of using the term “Head Of Household,” especially put into caps. I’m not down on it for someone else, but it’s so not us. Not me, not Paul. We’ve definitely always been partners. And that’s the way our relationship should be, maybe even more now that we’re married.

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