Disclaimer: Consensual Non-Consent
“I’m in kind of a dark mood today,” was the first thing that came out of my mouth when Sir woke up.
I’d been up for hours thinking about it. Needing it. Wanting him to give me something dark and twisted to release the pressure.
But maybe not the smartest move, launching that grenade into his still sleepy brain without so much as a “Good morning.”
Slow and steady, eager girl.
Understandably, he was confused and his immediate response was a look of concern, and to ask “Is everything okay?”
After assuring him that I was fine, I explained that I meant sexual darkness. I meant that I need the tension release that comes from physical pain, from depravity, from indulging in my darker self.
“I want you to treat me like a whore today,” I said.
“I want you to use all of my holes, please,” I implored.
“You love me, and I want you to fuck me like you don’t,” I begged.
I saw his face change. He went from concerned husband to Dom almost immediately, and the next thing I knew I had a hand around my throat and he shoved his cock into me without any pretense or prep.
The stretch was delicious. Feeling him force his way inside of me reminded me of what I was craving. To be forced. To be taken. To be raped.
And wow does writing that word still feel startling. I work with sexual assault survivors. I am a sexual assault survivor. I’ve been retriggered by pop culture representations of rape. I’ve had to leave the room because of it before.
And yet, saying that, writing fantasies about it like this one, and this one has been healing… and arousing.
My fantasies are being given voice by blogs that discuss CNC openly and show examples of the consensual nature of it. The truth of it. The intensity of the desire for violence and violation, but only after consent has been established and safewords are in place.
During our escapade this morning, I cried “why are you doing this to me” lost in the intensity of Sir treating me like a fucktoy. He smacked and spanked and forced and fucked and slapped and degraded. My cervix wears his bruises as a memory of how fast, hard and filthy he made me take it.
Then he asked me what my name was, who he was, and how I was feeling.
It probably wasn’t that long, but it felt like it took me forever to find my name in my brain. A little less long to name who he was (“Daddy.”), and that I was feeling “sleepy.”
This wasn’t a scene, and it wasn’t CNC. It was just a really good episode of rough, degrading sex.
But it stemmed from me saying that I wanted to explore CNC more. That I needed it rougher, harder, more violent, more forced. It stemmed from me wanting to be ready now.
I’m gagging for an actual rape play scene, but Sir knows I’m not actually ready yet. I’m just doing that thing my OCD brain does where it obsesses over one thing. He knows that we need to take time to prepare, to plan, to figure out what this looks like. He knows that when I cried “why are you doing this to me” it was because I got lost in the violence and my brain went into fantasy mode. He also knows that I can’t say things like that loudly where we live without fear of repercussions.
Sir is always the one who helps me bring me back to where it needs to be. He makes it safe for my mind and heart to keep traveling through dark alleys and pretty forests at night, wondering when he might come and steal my body from me.
Slow and Steady, patient girl.
At the end of that conversation, I used the words for the first time out loud. At first, I hesitated, stopped before the words left my mouth. Sir knew I needed to get them out, and so he commanded:
“Tell me what you were going to say, right now, little girl.”
His command gave me permission to say the words.
“I want you to rape me, Sir.”
And it was startling, and jarring, and uncomfortable… and raw.
It was arousing as fuck when he replied with a simple “I will.”
And then we kissed, moved on from my dark mood, and went to lunch.
This is part of our full spectrum D/s. Making implicit desires into explicit preparation, no matter how stigmatized. Honoring what we want to explore no matter how depraved, and talking about it together. Knowing that the only limits that matter are the ones we set for ourselves and how we will navigate any conflicts with societal vanilla norms. Believing that through all of it, I can count on him to get us there safely, sanely, and consensually.
He is my Dom, and I am his sub.
Footnote: My CNC posts all start with Red and the Wolf photos (tagged #red and #cnc) if you want to avoid them. Keep yourself safe, loves. ♥️
theartofmadeline
yousharknotpass
