Reading Marie of Rebel’s Notes’ Sinful Sunday post today reminded me that April is the month for the A-Z Blogging Challenge. I participated one year a few years ago, and another year we played our own A-Z blogging game, our public-rope-themed Alphabet Challenge (which was way more fun than any three people should be allowed to have together, and gave me so many wonderful memories with W – all chronicled in my then-blog, Kink and Poly.) I am still awed by the sheer volume of writings I did there, by the friends I made through that blog, by the way it not only chronicled our lives – W’s, Ad’s and mine, as well as my children’s and others who we came into contact with – through the years, but by the way it informed our lives together. It was, in the way that a location sometimes becomes a character of its own in a story, almost a character of its own in the story of our lives. It’s easier now to look at it. In small doses, anyway. Some images, some stories, I still can’t quite look at head on. But I’m so glad they are there. Someday, I know, I will be able to…
Ah, but that day is not today. Today, just that quick peek to find the link to the Alphabet Challenge posts made my throat close on tears. It’s okay. As someone said, if it hadn’t mattered so much, if it hadn’t brought me so much joy, it would not bring me so much sorrow now. And so. I live with it. I breathe through it. And I live, the way he wanted me to.
Anyway. This is all by way of me following through on my experiment. I’m just writing for the sake of writing. So, you know, you might get a whole mish-mash of stuff. Sad stuff, poly meanderings, kinky shit, head shit. Memes and musings. This, apparently, will be one such mish-mash. And accepting the A-Z Challenge is another tool to provoking daily writing.
It was fortuitous that the Food or Thought Friday blog happened to have an A-word prompt this week, to go along with the first day of the A-Z challenge: arousal.
I was pondering that word today, and this past week, as I thought about (and lived through) an exercise in frustrated arousal, via my punishment at V’s hand.
Was I aroused by his punishment? By being punished?
The answer to the first is obvious: he deliberately chose activities to arouse me, for the express purpose of denying me the culmination of that arousal. In the past, orgasm denial has been something that has the exact opposite of the desired effect: my desire gradually wanes, my ability to reach an orgasm, once granted, becomes ever more difficult. If the denial persists over days (or weeks) pretty soon I am no longer interested in sex. And then it takes a while to get me recharged again.
But the way that V does it…doesn’t have that effect. Is it him or my own sexuality that has changed? I don’t know. I just know that when he denies me – especially when it is punishment – yes, I am aroused by it.
I so hesitate to say punishment itself arouses me. (Real punishment, not the fun kind, though he and I often even blur the lines of that.) I sincerely do NOT want to disobey. I do NOT deliberately do so to elicit a response – top from the bottom. There is no topping on my part, because he is well aware of everything I am doing, and he chooses how to respond. But more than that, I want to be his good kitty, his good girl. I just…fail…sometimes. And the fact that he doesn’t let me get away with it, that he brings me back in line, yes, that turns me on. Arouses me. Because firm, strict Dominance is something I crave. Because knowing there are rules and lines and obligations – and consequences to breaking, crossing or reneging on same – is part of my D/s makeup, and thus, because D/s is part of my sexuality, when he exerts that control over me – to punish me for my transgressions – it turns me on.
Control turns me on.
Thinking about it, about the question asked on the F4TF blog, “Is there anything that is pretty much guaranteed to arouse you?”, the answer is yes: control. In whatever form that takes.