The Ben Wa Dilemma; Or, Do Sexual Submissives Need Punishment?

The BDSM world we see on the internet is full of sexual curiosities, and, as we try to see ourselves in this new kinky light, Michael and I are feeling game to give different things a try.  First, because it’s a lot of laughing fun, and second, it might possibly turn us on, and third, because we can.  For the first time in decades, neither of us have kids living at home.  Certainly, if we thought one of our kids might walk through the door at any moment, I would not now be reclined on the living room couch, legs open, while my husband slips small, silver Ben Wa balls inside of me.

I have only worn them once before, the night we bought them, for about ten minutes while I lay next to him on the couch.  This time, he says, I am to wear them while I cook dinner.  (Wait, can one really “wear” Ben Wa balls?  Blog20Quote1Isn’t it more accurate to say I carry them?  Or, hold them in?)  So, I pull up my panties and move into the kitchen, feeling the slight pressure of weight inside my pussy when I move.  It’s nice, the constant focus on holding them in.

As I cook, he sits on the barstool across the kitchen island, and we talk about D/s, trying to define what we want it to be for us.  I have no idea how much I should be trying to hold on to the feeling of a submissive trance.  Is it even realistic to always be feeling submissive around him?  He tells me he is not interested in a full-time submissive, he’s been reading about master-slave relationships, and that holds no appeal for him.  He doesn’t feel any need to be waited on.  He is interested only in dominating me sexually.  Although, he adds, he always wants to be my Daddy, whether we are having sex or not.  He says he loves the feeling of being able to take care of me.

I walk around the island to kiss him.   He pulls me close, gropes my ass and says, “I do like the idea of training you, setting up rules for you to follow.”

He is referring to the contract he sent me earlier, and I am still not sure how I feel about it.  It was both too much, and not enough.  I head back around to the cutting board.  “You want to keep me in a steady submissive state.”

He tells me he’s getting a good idea of what triggers me.  “But I don’t know what kind of punishments to try if you break a rule.”  Then he gives a little moan and grabs his crotch.  “Just thinking of punishing you gets me excited.”

I, however, am feeling no excitement at this turn in the conversation.  In fact, most of the excitement I had been feeling off and on all day disappears.  Even with Ben Wa balls inside me.  I don’t know why.

“I suppose I get the concept of punishment, at least in theory,” I begin.  “But the idea of you actually punishing me?  I don’t know, it feels stupid to me.  It kind of puts the whole thing into game territory to me.”

I can tell from his face this is not what he expected to hear.

I try to explain. “It just seems silly to punish me for not following a rule, because for me to accept your right to punish me, I’d have to be in a submissive state.  And if I was in a submissive state I wouldn’t break the rule in the first place.”

“You could break the rule by mistake.  Say, I ask you to do something with your legs open, and you forget.”

“Well,” I counter, “if you make such a petty rule, then I don’t see how I can respect you, let alone submit to you.”

As he is brooding over this, I head back to him to press my forehead to his shoulder.  “I don’t want my submission to you to feel silly.  I couldn’t bear if it was a game with trivial rules.  There’s no satisfaction for me in a stupid game.”

He doesn’t say anything to that.  I realize I am not doing the best job of expressing what I’m feeling, probably because I don’t know exactly why I am feeling so let down by his ideas on punishment.  All I know is I loved the submissive trance I had been in for days, and I want it back.  It has taken the significance of the Holy Grail to me, but I feel certain that trying to follow some arbitrary rules isn’t going to get it back for me.

I try again to wrestle my vague thoughts into words.

“Honey, If all you want is sex from me when you want it, well, I can choose to give you that anytime.  I don’t need to be in a submissive state for that.  I can just go ahead and decide to do what you want.  But there’s no spiritual element for me in that, no thrill of belonging to you, and being owned, being safe.”

I raise my face to look up at him.  “What I want is that spiritual, surrendered state where it feels as if you have the unconditional right to take me.  When I’m in that state, I don’t have to make any choices at all because I am so surrendered.  That’s what eliminates all the static in my mind, that’s what gives me peace.”

His face goes soft at that.   “That’s what I want, too.  Exactly what I want.”  He reaches to cup my breast in his hand.  “So how do we get you to stay in that space?”

I tell him I’m not sure exactly, although I don’t think a silly game of rewards and punishments will do it.  I venture that the answer is probably more along the lines of “conditioning.”  Perhaps the consistent application of submissive triggers.

“Like regular spankings,” I say.  “I’ve read online about maintenance spankings every day.  What do you think of that?”

He swats my rear in response.  It makes me smile.

I tell him that him holding my throat, or pushing my head down makes me feel submissive.  If he ties me up, makes me helpless, that creates a feeling of deep submission.  Kneeling before him does it, too.

“But lying across your lap, I think that is the most submissive feeling of all,” I say.  “Or anytime you push something into any one of my holes.  Your thumb or cock in my mouth, your fingers in my pussy, or … in my ass.”   I blush furiously as I say this.  “You know, like the other night, when I was over your lap, you had two fingers in my ass, and oh my God.”

I tell him that one experience made me a firm believer in what I’d been reading online, that ass penetration is hugely symbolic of domination.  And to be penetrated in the ass is to about as submissive as one can get.  I tell him I’ve been reading about submissives being trained to butt plugs, and how that gives me an erotic jolt.

“Oh, you’re going to get butt plugs,” he says, and when I laugh the Ben Wa balls threaten to fall out.

Vaginal Wrestling

It’s time to take them off.  So I slip out of my panties and go lie back down on the couch. He slides his finger inside me to pry the balls out.  Only he can’t quite get them.  His fingers keep digging, but they’re able to hook around the balls, and it’s starting to hurt.

“You’re too tight,” he says.

What?

Now begins a determined wrestling match inside my vagina, with him working his fingers around inside me, and me squealing in pain and tightening my muscles against him.  I stand, thinking gravity will help, while he sits on the floor to reach up into me.  It doesn’t work.

Next, I bend over the couch, and he can finally get one, but not the other.  I am laughing, but I am also mortified.  What kind of cavern is my pussy that it is so stuck?  Blog20Quote2But bigness isn’t really the problem, it’s the resistance of my muscles, locked up tight around that little ball.  I have horrified visions of having to go to the emergency room to get it out.

I go back to the couch to lie down, try to relax and he again tries to pry it out.  It is now very painful, I can feel that hard ball bruising the inside of my vaginal walls.  This has got to be the most unsexy moment of my entire life.  By the time he finally gets it out, we are both sweating.

He drops the ball in my hand, and I march over to the trash can and fling it in.

“Okay,” he says, “Ben Wa balls are no longer part of the conditioning.”

I say thank you, then go off to the bathroom to try to restore my dignity.  It doesn’t work.  But when I emerge again, we are laughing so much that it doesn’t matter.  And later, as he fucks me on the couch, the ache of inflamed tenderness in my pussy, engorged with blood, adds to my excitement, and the pain-pleasure orgasm … oh my God.

Meanwhile, the contract still sits on the counter, unsigned, forgotten.

My Submissive Frenzy

Deep submission, says David Deida, allows a woman to experience her own “uninhibited sexual essence.”  Well, I’d say the man knows what he’s talking about.  In the few weeks since I submitted my body to my husband, I am have become so fucking uninhibited, and my sexual longings have become so intense that it’s freaking me out a little bit.

While I have been reading Deida’s lovely spiritual book about sexual polarity, Michael has been giving the problem of how to keep me in a submissive headspace some internet research.  He has found numerous pages of suggestions on how to train a submissive.  Now he emails me an agreement, a contract of sorts, where he outlines his sexual expectations of me.  We have talked about needing a container of sorts for what we are doing.  I’m amazed at how far we have evolved in this complicated business in such a short time, and I click open the document, excited to read it.

It doesn’t take long.  He lists only a few instructions:  Wear his shirt while he is at work.  Wear Ben Wa balls inside me for an hour a day.  Suck his cock when he gets home.  Reveal to him everything I am feeling.  Blog19Quote1Lovely things all, and it will make me happy to do them.  But this spare list doesn’t seem enough to keep me in a submissive state for more than a few minutes, let alone long-term.  Why is there no mention of spankings?  Or of whippings?  Or a butt plug perhaps?  What about rope bondage?  Nipple clamps?

I am terribly disappointed, and then annoyed at myself for it.  The whole point of submission is to please him, not to get him to please me.  But it puts me in a state of worry, regardless.  Is this how basic his needs are?  What if our sexual appetites are not well matched as I thought?  From this worry, I move to feeling disgruntled:  Yeah, he says he is going to meet my sexual needs, but the reward of fingers in my pussy twice a week isn’t going to do it.  I am so turned on by all this, I am in a constant state of ache, feel a desperate edge of need to be used and used, somehow, anyhow.

I come across the term “submissive frenzy,” and immediately recognize I have a raging case of it.  Sub frenzy, say women who have been there, is a state of mind, common to new submissives, in which they feel an overwhelming need to have all their desires fulfilled.  As in immediately.  As in it takes over one’s entire mind, leaves no room for anything else.  That’s exactly how I feel right now.

The words of warning about sub frenzy I find online are mostly concerned with new subs not putting themselves in danger within the wider BDSM community.  Not giving themselves to a dominant they barely know.  Not exercising enough caution with strangers.  But since I am married to my dominant, that is not something I need to worry about.

The most immediate problem in sub frenzy to me is how exposed it makes me feel to my husband.  All of my deepest desires, and all of my darkest, neediest corners are on vivid display to him.  While in the middle of heated sex, it is thrilling to feel so open, so known, so accepted.  But at every other moment, it is feeling increasingly uncomfortable, even scary.

The truth is, I feel in danger of becoming a freak.  I remember only too well the blue-eyed man who once played submissive to allegedly dominant me, a man who needed more and more complex stimulation to get into a state of submission.  Our sexual relationship slowly became all about satisfying his ever more ‘out-there’ fetishes instead of real submission.  When he began asking to drink cups full of my urine in the guise of “worshipping” me, I had no desire for that, but brought cups to the toilet anyway, and half the time got more on my own hand than in the cup.  I watched him gulp down my pee over and over, but because I wasn’t being honest about what I truly wanted and didn’t want, this so-called worship only made me recoil from him.

Is that the path I am on?  Where I pretend to be submissive, but really I am “topping from the bottom,” trying to get Michael to be my continual sex-giver instead of making myself available to his sexual needs?  He has said he wants me insatiable, and he’s succeeded remarkably well in getting me to that state.  I am full of fevered, explicit desires to be bound and beaten and penetrated in the guise of worshipping him.  The odds seem high that it will turn him off, he will recoil.

And even worse than my fear that he will see me as a freak, is my fear that he will eventually see himself that way, because of me.  A month ago, he was this nice normal guy, and we had been enjoying this wonderful relationship that made us both so happy.  Blog19Quote2Now, I call him Daddy, and I ‘get-off’ as he crams my face against the mattress while fucking me.  We have become weird, and everything seems full of pitfalls, difficult to navigate.

For the rest of the afternoon, I ride the waves of sub frenzy madness, whipsawing between euphoria at his first attempt to bind me in some kind of contract to him, and fear of where it will lead.  I want to squelch the fear, but I can’t.  This is a risky journey.  There is no getting around fears and insecurities.  And there is no going back either, if going back means neutral 50/50.  There is no way to go but forward and work through the fear, find the right rhythm, the right conditioning, the right mindset.  I want to believe I will learn how to settle into it.  I work hard to believe we will find our balance together, find our sweet spot.

In the meantime, he says I have to reveal everything to him, so I plan to be honest about my feelings when he gets home from work.  Then I will let it go, let him figure out what to do with it.  This thought is such a comfort that I decide to cultivate the attitude that, “Daddy will take care of it.”  My husband is in charge, he will figure everything out and make it okay, and make me feel better.  When the fear looms, I repeat these words to myself:   “Daddy will take care of me.  He will make it all better.”

The Handmaid’s Tale, Bill O’Reilly and the “Stages” of Sexual Submission

The first half of 2017 is not an auspicious time to start a blog on sexual submission.  Maybe a few years ago, thanks to the success of the 50 Shades of Grey series of books and movies, my story of sexually submitting to my husband would have fit the cultural moment.  But since Donald Trump exploded on the national scene and traumatized American womankind with his unapologetic pussy-grabbing ways, there has been a mass cultural outcry against any kind of suggestion that women be treated as sexual objects.

Since Trump’s winning campaign, I have run across story after story online written by women describing their histories of sexual abuse by men who feel themselves entitled to their bodies.  And since his election, women have been knitting themselves pink “pussy hats,” and marching in city after city to protect their rights.  Meanwhile, one of the most buzzed about shows that have premiered on TV lately is The Handmaid’s Tale in which society literally takes ownership of women’s bodies for the sexual/procreative use of the most powerful men in the community.  And last month, conservative blowhard Bill O’Reilly followed Roger Ailes out the door at Fox News due to his serial sexual harassment of female coworkers.

I look at this cultural landscape and wonder what has possessed me to publicly write about my decision to become sexually submissive to my husband.  I often feel my own mother’s ghost – proud sex-positive woman that she was – rolling over in her symbolic grave that I am so idiotic as to hand my sexual agency over to a man and then brag about itBlog18Quote1And I frequently squirm from the waves of disapproval I imagine coming at me from countless feminists – past, present and future – not to mention the appalled feminist in my own head.

I know the treatment of girls women as sexual objects is very real, and very harmful, not just in America, but especially other countries where such views are sometimes enshrined into actual law.  But perhaps it is because I am experiencing the joys of submission at the worst possible time in Western culture that it is important to write about it.  What is happening in the news sets the best possible stage to make a distinction between the abusive and dehumanizing sexual domination of women, and a loving kind of sexual domination that elevates a woman, and creates a path for deeper union.  Michael and I have strongly felt the distinction since embarking on our spontaneous D/s journey, but it took reading the work of David Deida for us to fully understand it.

In his books, Deida describes three stages of how men and women relate to each other.

Stage One is the “Dependent” Stage, where each person needs something from the other, the “traditional” relationship in which the man is dominant in all things and trades his protection of a woman for sexual favors and the care of his children.  In a Stage One relationship, the man is king of his castle, and may keep his woman under control with threats of violence or financial deprivation.  In a Stage One relationship, a woman’s right to sexual consent is meaningless as she is in no way a man’s equal, nor even really a whole person to him.  This is old school sexual domination, and that is what Trump and O’Reilly embody with their reigns of sexual intimidation, and what The Handmaid’s Tale portrays.

A Stage Two relationship is 50/50, and this is the kind of equal relationship most “enlightened” people strive for today.  Each partner is independent, respected, with equal voice in all matters including sexual.  This kind of relationship is the goal of feminist efforts, and is now the model for the way we understand relationships “should” be.  But while this is a vast improvement over a Stage One relationship (and a necessary step along the way), there is an inherent flaw in the 50/50 relationship.  All that equality mutes sexual polarity.  Without two partners fully inhabiting the masculine and feminine poles, there is no more magnetic force, no more pull, and passion fades.

“Second stage men,” Deida writes, “are so devoted to their inner balance they are afraid to sweep a woman off her feet with the kind of uncompromising love that could fill her deepest desire for intimacy.  Meanwhile, a second stage woman is afraid to give a man the kind of devotional love that wants to overflow from her heart.  Both are cautious not to let go of their own boundaries or to trespass beyond the emotional boundaries of their partner.”

True, both partners in Stage Two are safe, but a feeling of flatness can pervade the relationship – and eventually, dissatisfaction.  “A second stage woman may come to realize her heart is still yearning,” Deida continues.  “A second stage man is safe but not sufficient to pierce the deepest caverns of her heart – at the very center of her life, something is missing.”

So, what is a woman to do to become fulfilled in a relationship?  Move beyond such stringent equality.  Or, at least that’s how I interpret what Deida writes next.  “She must be sucked through the black hole of her need before she can emerge like a butterfly with wings of love.  The third stage woman no longer searches for love, but rather breathes love, relaxes in love and radiates love.”

The third stage woman doesn’t feel the need to be adamant about maintaining her personal identity, he adds.  Since she already knows that she is love, she simply practices giving love, moment to moment, in the ecstasy of surrender.  Her identity is not derived from her man (first stage dependence), nor from herself (second stage equality).  “Her need for self-identity is virtually gone, so bright is the shine of her love.”

Oh yes, I think as I read these words in Intimate Communion.  My identity has indeed been swallowed up these last days of D/s discovery, surrendered along with my body to my husband’s masculine will.  And I do feel myself shining brightly with love.  I feel incandescent with it.

Of course, Deida does not once mention the phrase “dominance and submission” in his book.  He speaks more coyly, in terms of a man “taking” or “ravishing” his woman, without saying what that might look like.  And I doubt that the practices of many in the BDSM community would fit his description of a transcendent Stage Three Relationship.  Clearly, many BDSM relationships sit somewhere between Stage One, with its literal master/slave relationships, or Stage Two, with its more consensual framework of negotiated boundaries and safewords.

Naturally, I like to think that Michael and I are practicing the more evolved version of D/s.  I know I’ve found my inner experience of what is happening with us reflected in Deida’s book.  And although it will be months before I fully understand that the practice of D/s is not the destination, but a vehicle for a journey, I already have an inkling that my preoccupation with things like training and triggers and maintaining subspace is beside the point.  The point is intimate communion with each other, and the opening to love.

But understanding the distinction between Deida’s Stage One male dominance which dehumanizes women and creates an ugly rape culture and Stage Three masculine dominance that celebrates women and creates shining love is a huge gift to me.  Blog18Quote2It is a salve to the shame and guilt stirred up by the feminist chatter in my head that I am breaking the rules by sexually submitting to my husband.  After all, the feminist rules were designed to take women into Stage Two 50/50 relationships, which is a vital evolutionary leap in the way men and women relate to each other.  Unfortunately, Stage Two 50/50 is also the stage where passion goes to die.

Michael and I, we are being driven to find our way to ecstatic Stage Three, and I am grateful to Deida for describing it for us.  I no longer have to feel that I am somehow going “backwards” when I allow my husband to do what he wills to my body.  Now, I can feel that we are moving together into a more evolved sexuality, where my alignment with my feminine nature calls forth his masculine self to ravish me.  Oh, and what heaven it is to be ravished by him …

Sexual Polarity in Dominance and Submission: David Deida Explains it All

Ten days into being seized by D/s fever, my sweet Daddy and I are determined to better educate ourselves in all things BDSM.  We had, of course, been scanning the internet, picking up ideas and inspiration here and there through many helpful websites.  But now we are going to study it.  Books arrive in Amazon boxes:  SM 101 by Jay Wiseman,   The Ultimate Guide to Kink by Tristan Taormino.  And my favorite:  Screw the Roses, Send me the Thorns: The Romance and Sexual Sorcery of Sadomasochism by Philip Miller and Molly Devon.  (Love that subtitle).

I delve deep into the vocabulary of D/s, concepts like “scenes” and “safewords,” and “sub-drop,” and “aftercare.”  Again, I find this immersion into a well-known structure both comforting and off-putting.  It is helpful to know so many people have gone before us and made a map of territory.  Blog17Quote1We’d be completely lost and strange without that map.  The books validate our desires, warn us of pitfalls, and give us ideas of things to try we might never have come with on our own.  But the books with their similar themes and words and descriptions also make us feel like we have joined some kind of fetish cult, and are now being pushed to participate in an elaborate game full of rules and protocols.  In trying to establish a structure to free our lust and journey of discovery, it sometimes feels we are trapped within it.  Suddenly, there is “right” and “wrong” way to go about it.  And we are comparing ourselves with others.

There is also one important thing I am not finding from the books I’m reading through:  A deeper explanation of why we have found ourselves in this territory at all, and why it is impacting us the way it does.  These how-to books are wonderful at explaining the effects of BDSM – as in greater communication and trust – but not the deeper cause of our urge to go there.

Sexual Polarity

I finally recall the lecture Michael and I heard several months earlier on the work of David Deida, and the idea that equal 50/50 relationships tend to drain the passion from sex.  At the time, I had been ambivalent on the content of the lecture, yet intrigued enough to order one of his early books, Intimate Communion: Awakening Your Sexual Essence.  By the time it arrived, I’d lost interest and stuck it on my bookshelf and forgot about it.  Now I go looking for it, pull it out and open it up to read what Mr. Deida has to say.

Three hours later, I am still reading, hand over my heart in gratitude.  While nowhere in the book is BDSM mentioned, I find such a precise explanation of what has been happening to us, that it is almost as if Deida has been sitting in the orange chair in the corner of our bedroom to study us.

The basis of all Deida’s books is his theory of sexual polarity, which he describes is something very different from love or romance.  Love, he says, is about opening one’s heart and relaxing one’s sense of separation.  There is no limit to love, it is inclusive: one can love anyone and everyone.  Romance, however, is something else.  It is very exclusive, focused on one person and feelings of familiarity, or “at-homeness” with the other.  It is the soulmate feeling, the I-feel-like-I’ve-known-you-all-my-life feeling.  (I feel both an open-hearted love and an exclusive romance dynamic with my marvelous Michael, which is why I married him.)  But sexual polarity, says Deida, is a third way of relating, and it is impersonal.

Sexual polarity is the “arc of energy,” or the essential magnetic pull, between the masculine and the feminine.  Deida describes it as working like electricity or magnetism, which is generated between a positive and negative pole.  Blog17Quote2This sexual energy generates itself effortlessly when the conditions are right.  One might call it chemistry, or the “energetic juice” of passion and sex.  One can experience a jolt of sexuality polarity with a stranger.  (I have always wondered about the occasional flash of instant attraction I have felt with certain men who cross my path.)

“We are affected by sexual polarity from head to toe,” Deida writes.  “A natural and energetic force flows between the masculine and feminine poles, and your body-mind is reoriented just like a compass.”

Masculine energy, Deida goes on to say, is active, purposeful, assertive, directed and focused.  Feminine energy is free-flowing, open, yielding, receptive, definitely more passive.

I feel a definite sense of recognition as I read him describe how a yielding, receiving woman increases the strength of the feminine pole, and thus increases the flow of sexual energy.  “Radiating feminine energy magnetizes masculine energy.”  And, deep submission to a man allows a woman to experience her own “uninhibited sexual essence.”

It seems clear to me that practicing dominance and submission is a direct way of cultivating polarity between masculine and feminine.  It encourages each person to align almost exclusively with their respective poles.  And this explains why Michael and I have been experiencing such a great surge of sexual energy and passion.

Deida adds that “to encounter the opposite of what you are is healing.”  And oh I feel that too, it feel very healing to me when Daddy penetrates me and takes me and invades me with all that thrusting energy.  Or maybe the healing part is that I can fully experience my own feminine energy?  I wonder if it feels healing to him to be able to sink into me while I am being so open and receptive.  Or maybe the healing part for him is that it allows him to fully experience his masculine energy?

Reading all this is so revelatory to me that I have to put the book down and take a brisk walk to burn off energy.  Finally, someone has provided a philosophical – even spiritual – framework to help me understand why I have felt so thrown into a new sexual universe by what has been happening between us.  And, if Deida’s theories are right, then Michael and I are not just having hot kinky sex, we have headed into a whole new evolutionary stage.