This is most definitely not something I’d ordinarily share, but I can’t not...
The elephant in the room:
I can only speak for me, and I certainly don’t want to imply the same of others, but for me sex is “taboo”, as in my own sex, my own self-pleasure. Now as someone with an extremely high sex drive who “indulges” as often as she eats, that’s pretty damn tough to deal with. I’m not inexperienced, but I’ve only had a handful of partners and certainly am not promiscuous (though I’m quite envious of those that are/can be...)
My issue is this, and I would love to hear other subs’ and Doms’ opinions on it, if u feel so inclined as to indulge me:
I need orgasms, and I need them regularly (and yes, I know the word “need” shouldn’t enter my head as a sub...). But when I have one, alone and indulgent and oh so blissful, I’m immediately wracked with guilt afterwards. Why? Quite simply because of the sub in me. How dare I pleasure myself when I’m designed/created to pleasure another? I can hear you all screaming at me to just enjoy it, but that’s easier said than done with a mind like mine...
That brings me to today, Thursday, a morning of blogging and journaling down and a magical pm in my inbox (and no that’s not a euphemism for something else lol), that made me feel empowered and pretty damn horny. He probably knows who he is, and no I’m not hitting on you, but I drew my inspiration from you today... I put myself first.
I’m a weird one, I don’t like self-penetration either digitally or with toys, but today was different. So the cobwebs and the mothballs were quickly and vigorously removed and sweet golden hues washed over my body and my brain for what seemed like an eternity - and then I found peace... I left what was inside, inside, found my cuddliest pillow, and drifted off into the most blissful nap I’ve had in years with no guilt.
I dreamed the wettest dreams I’ve ever had, fantasies I didn’t know I had were unleashed and indulged, I have no idea just how many times I orgasmed or even if they were real (although the bedclothes say they were), and I awoke with my heart pounding, my body hot, wet with sweat and more besides, spasming and writhing and clinging to my poor pillow. Still, no guilt. So as I’m sitting here having my warm hug of a mug of coffee, bedclothes in the washing machine, muscles aching from an hour in bed alone, blissfully content and spent and all those warm fuzzy feelings pouring through me, I wonder: do any of you feel guilt in self-pleasure?
Note to self: maybe turn it off before you go to sleep with it still inside you next time...!