I was raised in the latter category. At age eight, I asked my mother to explain sex to me, and her response was emphatic.
Sex was something secretive, mildly wrong, and - when I finally fully engaged in it - wildly rebellious. Never one to do things by halves, once I started fucking, I didn’t stop. The week before I graduated high school I lost my virginity and had frantic, drunken, and bad sex in a dark room. I spent the rest of the summer fucking my boyfriend until he begged me to stop. He couldn’t keep up.
For the next year or so, as long as I had a boyfriend, we had sex. Not kinky. Not even all that good. No orgasms for me. But plenty of wet, sweaty sex.
By the time I met the man who would become my husband, and later my ex-husband, my childhood beliefs had caught up with me. By having sex, I was doing something wrong. I shouldn't want so much of it, and I definitely shouldn't want the wild, animalistic sex that made me scream and writhe.
That my husband at the time was less than stellar in bed was both a problem and relief. When we had sex, it was boring, and I experienced very little pleasure. Never having had an orgasm, I didn't miss what I’d never had. I’d already internalised the mistaken belief that orgasms are rare, elusive, and (worse) unimportant.
This was my reality. We had sex to improve his mood or to negotiate favours (I’ll fuck you if you do the dishes). It was quick, quiet, and always in a dark room. He would roll over quickly and snore. I would pull myself out of bed to clean up and find a book to read. The times we used condoms, it was over quicker and with less mess. Condoms were my preferred method.
It was a sad existence. We were both miserable on multiple levels. If we’d been honest with each other, the marriage ended many years before the divorce. It wasn't until I had a sexual awakening of my own that I realised that part of our problem was what happened (or didn't happen) in bed.
I went through a few flings and sexual partners until I was ready to do something different. And without the rejection of a man who found my lack of orgasms a turn-off, I might never have cared. What started with masturbation and allowing myself to swim in my sexual fantasies, turned into a deeper exploration.
I am a submissive woman.
Could I have had a different type of marriage or better sexual experiences as a younger woman if I’d accepted and believed in trust, communication, and openness? I think so. Was the man I married someone who could have fulfilled my need for power and control? No, he’s not wired that way. The few times I tried to express my desires, I learned through rejection and disgust.
After 15 years or so denying my sexuality and being afraid of it, I was an unhappy woman. Life was less colourful, more difficult. All these years later, I know how important my sexual needs are to me and a healthy, thriving relationship. There’s no way I could go back to anything less than what I have now.
Model Photo colourbox.com
Kayla Lords is a freelance writer, sex blogger, and a masochistic babygirl living the 24/7 D/s life. She hosts a weekly podcast, Loving BDSM, where she and her Dominant talk about loving BDSM in a loving D/s relationship and share what they've learned and experienced as a kinky couple.
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