My first experience with Feminism was not a favorable one. It was on a public forum, and this woman, who identified as feminist, called me and several other women out for being kinky. According to her, those of us who enjoy consensual control and pain are teaching men that it’s okay to rape and abuse, and we should immediately stop participating in kink because we were hurting feminism. It gets under my skin when people try to police others’ harmless joys in the name of “justice,” and I’ve seen it a fair bit in the feminist community, even though I know now that most feminists aren’t like that. I’ve coined the term Feminarchy to define a set of behaviors employed by certain feminists that attempt to police and control others either intentionally or unintentionally. This article isn’t exclusively about them. It’s about anyone and everyone that behaves the same way, but I’ll use the Feminarchy as an example. I’ll try my hardest to avoid creating straw-men by only using examples I’ve personally seen, and I’ll clarify that these are separate behaviors that I’ve observed in different people that I define as Feminarchy.

The argument I mentioned was the most misandristic piece of nonsense I’d ever heard. Did she really think for one second that men are completely unable to tell the difference between a consensual situation and a nonconsensual one? If she’d paid attention at all to the thread, safewords had already been discussed, and many of the women she blasted were either Dommes or switches. She’d demonstrated a fundamental failure to understand both kink and men, and it’s hardly fair to condemn something if you don’t understand it. My response, in short, was to tell her that I no more wanted to be controlled and policed by feminists than I did by the “patriarchy”. I told her that if being “free” from the patriarchy meant I had to live without pleasure, I’d rather be enslaved. I don’t think that this particular type of feminist ever stops to look at what they’re saying. It’s another example of what I mentioned in PolyMonogamy; people who base their worldview on their own experience and then refuse to believe that someone else may have a different and equally valid experience. Just because they wouldn’t make an empowered choice to participate in kink, doesn’t mean no one ever makes that choice of their own free will.

Which brings me to another point of contention I have with the Feminarchy. The bad habit of claiming that anyone who disagrees with them is brainwashed. I don’t think I need to explain that a debate can’t work that way. That’s how you gaslight, by making your opponent doubt their own mind. It doesn’t bring about any healthy social change, because it leaves no room for discussion. The only thing it can possibly achieve is subjugating the victim and imposing the will of the perpetrator, or pissing off the target and creating a rift between the movement and the people it’s supposed to help. It is hardly an empowered choice to give up something you enjoy because someone else told you that you’re only being controlled into liking that thing. An example being, my tendency to shave my pubic hair. I’ve been told that “natural is best” because the only reason women shave their pubic hair is because society tells them they must. I examined this theory from all angles, then decided the only way to know for sure was to conduct an experiment. I grew it all back into the length it was before I started shaving it, a task that proved to be quite miserable and reminded me exactly why I started shaving it in the first place: it itched. It also reminded me that I was giving up the added sensitivity being clean shaven brought by allowing it to grow. So, unless I’ve been brainwashed into itching or being more sensitive shaved, I’m reasonably certain that I made an empowered choice to shave, just like those who prefer to leave their pubic hair natural made an empowered choice to do so. It’s only those who allow others to dictate their behavior that aren’t making an empowered choice.

Empowerment is a big social justice buzz word, and it’s a good one when it’s used correctly. Empowerment means making choices based on your own will and desires, not the will of those around you, which is why I’m not sure why the Feminarchy seems determined to sell certain behaviors as empowering and other choices as “giving in.” It seems counter productive to tell other people what’s empowering when empowerment comes from within. I can think of a few examples. The aforementioned “kink is disempowering” argument was perhaps one of the most shining examples. Another situation I’ve seen it in was an argument between two parties over being a housewife, where both sides were attempting to argue that their side was the only empowered choice. One party said that it was impossible to be empowered in the choice to be a stay at home wife who relied on her husband’s income, while the other party argued that it was impossible to make an empowered choice to go to work, because then they were giving in to their husband’s and society’s will.

No matter what group makes these arguments, be they the Feminarchy, the church, or any other group, they’re being disingenuous. Attempting to impose your own will over someone, either intentionally or through logical fallacy does not equate to social justice. It’s alright to encourage others to look at their reasoning, but not to tell them they’re brainwashed and only you know what’s best for them. It’s a trap we all fall into sometimes, that’s the true evil of the kyriarchy, and I know I’ve done it too. But we need to encourage introspection, not impose our will through a zero-sum game. Everyone should win with true social justice, not just the select few who get to decide what justice is.

Polyamory is unnatural! Monogamy is unnatural! These are the two most common arguments I hear in any debate on the topic. It’s maddening. Why should either of the two options be “wrong” or “unnatural”? Why can’t it be an individual choice? Even if we’re looking at it from an evolutionary standpoint- which I generally avoid, because to me evo-psyche is just a bunch of fools trying to justify their own experience with science- humans evolved in such a wide array of different shapes, sizes, colors, and cultures, not to mention different areas, that it’s completely possible that we selected for both monogamy in some groups, and polyamory in others. Furthermore, we’re all humans, and we interbreed all the time, so it’s also entirely possible that if genetics for polyamory and monogamy exist, they’re likely so mixed together that the chance one individual will be either is dependent entirely on which one comes up dominant in their DNA.

I think one of my biggest pet peeves in any debate is when one side accuses the other of being “unnatural” or “abnormal” to justify their own experiences. We have a rational folly that seems to be built into our nature to weigh the experiences of others by our own experiences, and it takes a lot of care to defeat it. For instance, I’m demisexual, which means it’s in my very nature to only feel sexual attraction to someone I also feel a romantic connection to. I’m only happy with the thought of having sex with someone I’m in a committed relationship with. It took me time and observation to accept that people who have friends with benefits and random hook-ups are also happy.

I’ve also noticed that it’s the people who are in the less secure position that most often justify their stance with science. As these two stances both become about even, they both start slinging the accusation of unnatural as though it is necessary to invalidate your opponent to validate yourself. That bothers me, because two different experiences of two different individuals can be equally valid. Just because one person isn’t fulfilled in a monogamous relationship doesn’t mean no one is fulfilled. Just because one person can’t imagine being poly doesn’t mean no one is happy in a poly relationship. The obvious solution is to accept that some people are monogamous and some people are polyamorous, and to avoid dating people from the opposite group if you wouldn’t be happy.

In my own relationship, we’re happily monogamous. I can’t imagine wanting an open relationship, because neither of us has ever felt unfulfilled in our relationship. I don’t see jealousy as the reason we don’t open our relationship, simply a lack of need to do so. Which isn’t to say I’m not jealous, I don’t share well if I don’t like the person I’m sharing with, and neither does he. I think, if it ever came up in the future that we both found we could love a third, I at least would be willing to go from a pair to a trio. The need for a committed relationship, however, remains. I’m not sure if I’m monogamous, or poly, but I need my partner(s) to be in it for the long haul and not in an open relationship.

Which brings me to another point, there are so many variants between monogamy, polyamory, and open relationships that it stands to reason that they’re either all natural or all unnatural. You have people who are serial monogamists, going from one monogamous relationship to the next, but always moving on because they can’t see settling with one person, and you have the poly folks who have a trio or more but have been with the same poly family for years and intend to stay together for life. You have the save yourself for marriage/committment crowd, of which I am one by nature rather than choice, and you have the people who need to test-drive their partners because sexual compatibility influences their decision to commit. You even have those with differing opinions on what it means to be monogamous. For instance, I once knew a couple who still considered their relationship monogamous even though the girlfriend was allowed to have sex with women and the boyfriend was allowed to have sex with men outside of the core relationship. To him, monogamy meant monogamy between a man and a woman, and people of the same gender weren’t a threat.

So really, before anyone starts leveling statements of “unnatural” against a way of life that goes against their own experiences, perhaps they should consider that we are all unique. The events that shaped us are different, our DNA is different, our minds are all unique and special. Maybe we should consider that as long as a certain way of life isn’t hurting anyone, it isn’t unnatural.

Anyone who’s observed me with my lover will tell you, we touch almost constantly. One of our friends has described it as orbiting each other. Our body language when we’re together is almost more animal than human, sometimes. The one thing they may not notice about all that touching is that it isn’t sexual. We touch for every reason under the sun, to express joy, comfort, gratitude, apology, forgiveness, sorrow, amusement, and simple togetherness, because people need touch. We’re programmed for it. The problem all too many people face is that touch tends to get tangled up with sex, and that causes people to develop hang ups about touching each other; either because we as a society have hang ups about sex, or because they don’t want to have sex so they don’t touch.

It’s been proven time and again that touch is important to a healthy lifestyle. An otherwise healthy baby that receives everything it needs to grow and be healthy will still become sickly if it isn’t held and comforted. Harry Frederic Harlow conducted a series of experiments on monkeys regarding the importance of touch in development. The experiments were both cruel and highly controversial, but they proved that monkeys who didn’t have touch comfort would become sickly more often than those who did, and that monkeys raised without touch failed to assimilate with other monkeys. Even though the experiments were aimed at touch during developmental periods, it would be foolish to think that we stop needing touch as we get older. A hug or a caress can comfort, and those who are happy heal easier and get sick less often. Touching releases oxytocin, which helps form bonds between individuals, and studies have shown can also aid in wound healing.

For all too many people, they only touch when it somehow involves sex. They get themselves into a cycle where a touch leads to a kiss, and a kiss leads to sex. Then, when they don’t want to have sex, that touch starts to look like a bad thing. It’s a cycle that needs to be broken. Sometimes a touch can be just a touch. Friends, even, should really touch more if they’re comfortable enough with each other to do so. There’s a train of thought that I’ve even caught myself falling into more than once. If I want physical intimacy, I often ask for sex, even if it isn’t really sex I’m craving. Sometimes the urge I seek to sate with sex is simply the urge to be touched. I find that sometimes sex turns into a means to be touched and held, even when just the touch would have been enough to sate the urge without the sex. I think I noticed the difference most distinctly before I became sexually active, though, because even with no sex drive to speak of, I still loved to curl up in cuddle piles with my closest friends, or lean against them when we were all sitting around together. Even before I met someone who I could touch openly, I would walk a little too close and touch a little too much when I was talking to someone.

My lover is a lot like me. We both touch as a form of communication. Our body language tends to be extremely physical. Often when I greet him, I’ll rub up against him in an almost cat-like gesture, or tuck my head under his chin. It isn’t a greeting until we’ve touched. If one of us is expressing approval of the other, we tend to hug or caress. When giving comfort, we tend to curl together with someone’s chin on the other’s head. I’ve also found that I’m the only female-bodied individual in my group of friends that will take the protector role and curl around my lover as the “big spoon” when he needs to be cuddled, as opposed to being the one doing the cuddling. We pet, we poke, we nuzzle, we nip, and sometimes we even lick each other if we’re in a playful mood.

Unfortunately, I’ve found that our physicality tends to bother some of our friends. We’ve been scolded for doing sexual things, even when it wasn’t sexual for either of us. Once, we were play wrestling during a break in the action while watching a wrestling event on TV with a group of our friends, and they asked us to stop because they didn’t want to watch us be sexual. I understand where they’re coming from in a society that sexualizes every touch, but we as a society could really afford to look at how we view touch in relation to sexuality. Not every touch is intended as an invitation to sex.

I feel like we, as a society, by putting a taboo on sex have also put a taboo on touch. It would improve the health of our society as a cohesive whole if we could let go of the association between touch and sex that we’ve developed and become more comfortable touching each other casually. Gone would be the angry glare when you reach out to steady a stranger who’s tripped, or the refusal of help if you offer a hand to help someone up. We’d finally be able to let go of the paranoia that everyone who offers a friendly hand wants something more, and that would mean a more open and friendly society.

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Communication is a pretty universally accepted ingredient in a healthy relationship. Even couples who’ve been together for a long time or who know each other well sometimes have things they need to tell their partners that they’ve learned about themselves. Sometimes, though, it isn’t an easy subject to broach, especially if it’s something you haven’t fully come to terms with yourself, or something you think might make your partner uncomfortable. Sometimes it’s just a surprising revelation you’re just nervous to make, such as a sudden interest in BDSM in a previously vanilla relationship, or a desire to try something new and much different than what you’ve tried before. Maybe you just need a place to put down what you’re thinking so you have a chance to edit what you want to say, and really think it through so it doesn’t come out wrong. Maybe you need the same thing I did, a “No-Guilt” notebook.

A no-guilt notebook is a place to write down confessions, fantasies, and desires that you want to share with your partner, no matter if they’re sexual in nature or related to something that comes up in everyday casual activities. It can be anything from the most harmless to the things you’re most ashamed of. The goal of the no-guilt notebook is to allow you time to think out what you want to say and how you want to say it, and to allow your partner time to read and process what you have to say. The reason I call it the no- guilt notebook is because while there are bound to be some things you or your partner find unacceptable, in order for the notebook to work the person for whom the notes are intended must approach each note with a level head and an open mind. The point is to open negotiations. Not every desire will be fulfilled, and some confessions will still cause pain and confusion, but often it is easier for both parties when it’s written out plainly in pen and ink. Reading often gives the partner receiving the confessions time to process without blurting out the first thing that comes to mind, which can be extremely helpful when that first thing might be hurtful.

The no-guilt notebook can be a place to figure out your own desires as well. You might get started on a tangent in its pages, and in following that train of thought to its logical conclusion, you might make some discoveries about yourself. For instance, I’ve made quite a few observations by writing things down that I might not have ever realized about myself. I figured out that I’m interested in pet play by following a train of thought that started with a fantasy to its conclusion.

Not everything that goes into the notebook has to be bad. It’s meant as a place to write down things that might not come up in casual conversation. Some of the best sex I’ve ever had came about as a result of the no-guilt notebook, because I wrote down my desires, and it turned out my lover shared quite a few. Ninety percent of what I write in the no-guilt notebook is either neutral or positive. Sometimes I just take a page to tell my lover what he did that I really enjoyed in bed. Sometimes I’ll describe a dream vacation, or a fantasy night of pleasure. Occasionally I’ll confess a realization I had about myself, and sometimes it’s just me writing down something I thought of to try that I didn’t want to forget.

It’s important to keep the no-guilt notebook positive. Never accuse, point fingers, or redirect blame. Present information in a matter of fact manner. If you have something negative to say, present it in a sentence that begins with “I”. Never say “You failed to satisfy me with activity x”, instead say “I didn’t enjoy activity x”. If you want to spice things up, suggest activities you’d like to try, rather than suggesting the activities you already do are boring. It shouldn’t be aimed at making them feel bad. It should make you both feel good.

The no-guilt notebook should be kept somewhere that it’s easy to pick up and read. I keep mine in a bedside drawer, and my lover is welcome to read it any time. Your lover should want to read it. It should open up conversations. Nothing in the no-guilt notebook is a definitive statement. There are no “we will do this” or “you will do this” statements. There are no ultimatums. There are no lists of demands. Lucid fantasies are highly encouraged. In fact, it’s best to explain in as much detail as possible why you like something, or why you did or want something. The more you can explain your train of thought, the easier it’ll be for your partner to understand.

Something else that is fun to do with a no-guilt notebook is to include one or two sentence fantasies or fun confessions. Be honest, tell your partner something you find sexy about them, or an activity you really enjoy. The no-guilt notebook is an excellent place to tell them how beautiful or handsome you find them, how much you appreciate them, or even how much you enjoy the little things that they do that make life easier.

It’s also good to go back and reread your own no-guilt notebook. Learn from your mistakes, and revel in your fantasies. It can be fun to remember what you were thinking when you wrote out a fantasy, and remember what it was like when it finally came to be. Going back and having conversations about the same things at a later time can leave room for changing world views and opinions. A fantasy your partner wasn’t comfortable with a year ago can become something they’re willing to try. Having your own changing fantasies and world views at your fingertips can teach you a lot about the person you were and the person you’re becoming as well. Sometimes the no-guilt notebook just serves as a reminder that we’re perpetually learning and growing, and so is our partner. The fact that people change and mature is something that’s important to remember in every relationship, and writing down your dreams, ambitions, fears, and desires can help you grow together rather than apart.

The no-guilt notebook is by no means a solution. It can’t fix everything, and it isn’t a magical secret to a perfect relationship, but it can make having the conversations you need to have to keep your relationship healthy a little easier. It opens the lines of communication, but by no means should it be the only line of communication. Think about the no-guilt notebook next time you’re in the store, decide if it might help you express yourself a little easier. If you think it might, pick up a notebook and a pen and start sharing your thoughts with your partner. Encourage them to do the same. It might help, it might not, but what’s the harm of adding another line of communication into your life?

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Sluts are women who enjoy sex too much for society to feel comfortable with. I know this, because I am a slut. I’ve only slept with one man in my entire life, but still, I am a slut. I enjoyed sex, and I wasn’t ashamed. In fact, I did something unacceptable, I not only enjoyed it, I went back for more. This might seem like a weird standard, but there you are. Where I’m from, being a slut is a multi-faceted thing that can be wonderful or terrible. It has sharp edges that can cut you, and it has benefits, or perceived benefits that were worth way too much to some of the girls when I was younger. Wearing the label of “slut” can be empowering, or it can break you down. I spent my teenage years in a sleepy little town where sex seemed to be the pastime of the youth.

Let me tell you about the ones it hurt, first. You see, when I was in school, roughly seventh grade through graduation, it was in vogue to be a slut. “Everyone” wanted to date a slut, and by everyone, of course, I mean the boys who really just wanted sex. Some of the girls who billed themselves as sluts genuinely felt the same way, but then there were those who just wanted a meaningful relationship, and they thought the only way to get it was to spread their legs. No one wins when the label means different things to each person involved. In fact, no one wins when you take any label to curry favor rather than for your own reasons.

Later, when I was just starting college, slut took on a different meaning. Sluts were picky, but they had a lot of sex. They chose who they wanted to have sex with, and they enjoyed it. Some sluts would sleep with anyone they thought would be good in bed, and both parties got exactly what they wanted, a no strings attached night of pleasure. Some of them had a long string of short term relationships, and some had friends with benefits. Some of them were even labeled sluts just because they wore what they wanted and weren’t ashamed to dress provocatively. I only fell into the last group, because at that point I hadn’t had sex yet. Not that anyone who called me a slut cared about that. I didn’t care about the label, though, although some people did, and they were hurt by it. I’d long ago learned that the opinions of people I didn’t care about couldn’t hurt me, and I was slowly realizing at that point that sluts had the most fun.

The people who called others sluts and spoke of sex like it was something to be ashamed of seemed to me to be the ones to be pitied. Even though I wasn’t having sex, and didn’t want to at the time, I at least realized that it was something to be enjoyed and not shameful. I wasn’t always so enlightened. At one point I actually believed that sex was something men enjoyed and women tolerated for children or to keep a mate. That was, after all, the pervasive message society force-fed us in our youth. So I can understand the negative message of those who seem so afraid to enjoy sex, even if I don’t agree with them. Fortunately, I learned from the sluts that they did it because they wanted to, because it felt good, and why shouldn’t they?

It wasn’t until I had sex myself that the label really stuck though. Sex was good, it was incredible, and I didn’t see any reason I should be ashamed of something that brought mutual pleasure to my lover and myself. Not only that, but there were so many lies out there about sex that I was slowly beginning to see. The more I learned, the more I wanted to help dispel those lies, so I started writing about sex online, and talking about sex to the people I knew.

I didn’t hide my sexuality, either. I was never ashamed to admit I wasn’t the mythical virgin anymore, because why should I be ashamed. I was more than willing to argue with people who said that sex was best saved for marriage. After all, my lover and I aren’t married, but we still intend to spend our lives together. What is it about having a piece of paper from the courts that makes sex go from shameful to condoned, anyway? Most importantly, I can spend hours arguing with those who say that sex is only for reproduction. That’s the biggest lie society tells any of us, and the most damaging by far. Some people just aren’t meant to be parents, and that’s okay. Pregnancy sure as hell isn’t “punishment” for having sex, and that’s why we have contraception available.

So, I became a slut, but I’m a slut with a mission. I want to spread the word that it’s okay to be a slut. It’s okay to enjoy sex. It’s okay to talk about sex. It’s okay to have sex because you enjoy it, even if you don’t want to have children. It’s okay to have sex and never, ever have children. Sex is a personal choice, and as long as you make that choice for yourself, it’s all good. Consensual sex between two adults is a beautiful, natural thing, and no one should be allowed to shame another person because they enjoy it.

Ah, pervertibles, that wonderful thing that every kinkster should know about. Your first kinky toys were probably pervertibles. A pervertible is any every day object that can be repurposed for a kinky purpose. Once you learn how to shop for pervertibles, you start seeing them everywhere. There are thousands of things that can be done with everyday objects, limited only by your imagination. From Walmart to Home Depot, to Petsmart or Petco, the shopping options are limitless. Today, I’m going to cover some shopping tips for pervertible items to get you started on the road to the kinky toy bag you’ve always wanted.

The first stop off on any pervertible shopping trip is the utensil aisle. My first recommendation is that you pick up an escargot fork. It’s a small, two tined fork that can be used to great effect in sensation play by tracing the tines gently over the skin. A spatula or a wooden spoon can easily be substituted for a paddle. By cooling the edge of a metal butter knife on an ice cube, you can make it feel much sharper than it is and it can be used efficiently in knife play. For best effect, show your submissive a sharp knife before blindfolding them and switching out the knives. A pair of still connected disposable chopsticks can be substituted for nipple clamps in a pinch, and a soft bristled bottle brush can be used gently over skin to sensitize it.

Next, we’ll travel to the storage and organization aisle. If you can find a very sturdy shoe rack, you can improvise a spanking bench. I only recommend doing this if the shoe rack can hold more than the full weight of the person it has to support. Clothespins can be used as clamps, and attached to just about any area of skin that can be pinched upwards. If you run a string through a series of clothespins, you can make an improvised zipper strip, which can be attached to the skin in a line, then pulled off all at once with the string. While you’re still in housewares, you should also be able to find a shower curtain rod or a regular curtain rod, which, with a few modifications can become a spreader bar.

If you’re shopping online or in a bigger department store, you might find that they have a massage section. If you have the room for it, you can’t go wrong with a massage table or chair. Not only are they good for actual massages, a good sturdy one will have plenty of places you can hook cuffs and keep your sub on a good level for you to work. Also in the massage area, you should find an assortment of massagers. You already know what to do with those, right? You should even be able to find massage table bolsters, which can take the place of a position pillow if you can’t afford one yet.

There are plenty of other things you might pick up in a department store. A wooden ruler makes an excellent paddle. A dull letter opener can be traced gently over the skin in knife play. A spa mask or a sleep mask for travel can be used in place of a blindfold. In fact, we’ve found that the sleep masks they make for air travel are considerably more comfortable than most of the blindfolds we’ve bought. A feather duster makes a great feather tickler, too, and a hairbrush makes a good paddle. For more ideas on sensation play pervertibles, have a look at the sensation play paragraph in my article “Sex Doesn’t Need to Begin and End with V.”

The next stop off on our pervertible hunt is the pet store. Here’s where it starts getting interesting. First question, are you interested in pet play? This is where you can start picking up supplies if that’s the case. You can find dog or cat bowls, tennis balls, rope tug-toys, feather wands, toy mice, pet beds, collars, leashes, and tags here for your new “pet.” Not into pet play? The pet store is still a good stop off for you. The dog collars are usually made sturdy, and most of them are exceptionally comfortable. I recommend the kind with the metal buckle closures, not the plastic snaps. Collars sized for tiny dogs, like chihuahuas, can be used as cuffs for securing wrists and ankles. Leashes work for their intended purpose, of course, but they can also be looped around a headboard or other secure point and used as fastening points for cuffs. You should also be able to find large dog harnesses. We actually tried a few on for size, and the ones intended for large shepherds adjusted the best to fit around human chests. They can be used to secure someone in bondage, or as a grabbing point to pull someone close or move them as you see fit, and of course they can also be hooked to a leash. They have the added bonus of looking nice, as well. In the cat toys, you can find feather sticks, which make excellent feather ticklers in a pinch. While you’re there, you might consider picking up some organic catnip. Catnip tea is a good beverage to have available during after care, as it has mild sedative effects and it can be great for calming frayed nerves and balancing emotions. Catnip can also be used on mild cuts and bruises. I suggest reading more in-depth information on its effects before you use it on yourself or your partner, however.

The last pervertible stop off I’m going to cover in this article is the hardware store. It is, perhaps, the best place of them all to buy pervertibles. I suggest getting at least four double ended snap hooks, eight is even better. They can be used to fasten cuffs and chains in different combination. You can also find chain O rings in various sizes, which can be used in strap on harnesses, and buy lengths of chain. I suggest buying four lengths of a light, sturdy chain to use as tethers with your cuffs. Your segments of chain can be cut between one and a half feet and two feet. Of course, you can also buy rope. Choose rope that isn’t likely to chafe, and soak it overnight to help soften it before use. If you plan to do any kind of advanced rope work, you’ll need at least 35 feet of rope. It seems like a lot, but once you start tying, it goes quickly.

There are plenty more pervertibles out there, and you’re limited only by your imagination, so have fun trying things out and learning as you go. Always remember the rules of BDSM safety and always respect limits. Once you’ve tried out some BDSM with pervertibles, remember that different materials get different effects, and adding nicer, luxury items to your toy bag can make your play time all the more fun. By mixing professionally made toys and pervertibles, you open up a world of sensual pain and pleasure to explore.

What do men like? What do women like? Is it okay for men to knit? Should women really work on cars? Tell me, what is our society’s hang up with genitalia? We’re so focused on what’s between other people’s legs that we don’t even seem to care about what’s between their ears. I’ve already written about how I identify and present as androgynous, but let me tell you about how freeing it can be to view gender as a spectrum, rather than a binary, and how much easier it makes interacting with people whose genitals and presentation doesn’t match your own.

My lover is a man. He has a penis, and he considers himself to be male. That doesn’t stop him for a second when he wants to put on a skirt and shave his legs. He likes dressing in women’s clothing, from what I can tell it’s because he finds it arousing. He doesn’t want to be a woman, he just wants to be allowed to wear skirts, dresses, blouses, and shrugs. For him, those things aren’t a gender thing, they’re a preference. It took him a while to get to that point, but he’s not the least bit afraid to step out of the limitations of being a “real man” and enjoy himself. I don’t consider myself a woman, so the limitations of gender don’t mean anything to me to begin with.

Gift giving is so much easier, too. We don’t get caught up chasing our tails asking silly questions like “what do men want?” or “what do half-crazy androgynous kinky-people like?” when we can cut straight to the point and ask “What does my lover like?” It’s just silly to generalize people into only two groups, especially when you’re trying to pick something out for just one person. If you think about it, no two individuals like exactly the same things. People tend to talk about what they like. If you’re around someone for any amount of time, they’ve given you at least a few valuable clues about their likes, dislikes, and hobbies. A good rule is that if they mention it more than twice, they probably like it well enough for it to make a decent gift. If they need something, it would make a decent gift as well. Remember, if it isn’t a traditionally “masculine” or “feminine” thing, it doesn’t matter. Some men love to knit, and some women might love to receive a mig welder.

Which brings me to hobbies. How did they get labeled masculine and feminine anyway? It’s not like having a vagina makes you better at sewing, or having a penis makes you more inclined toward woodworking. Women and men both have hands, and that’s all it really takes to do any hands on hobby. For the longest time, when I was trying to pass as a man, I avoided doing any hobbies that might be considered feminine, and it was really a tragedy for me. I love to cook and sew, and I’m good at it. If I refused to cook, I didn’t get to eat the foods I liked, and if I didn’t sew, I couldn’t make things I wanted to wear. There are some hobbies I’m simply no good at or not interested in, of course, and they range from those considered masculine to those considered feminine, but I don’t let labels choose for me. Neither should you. If there’s something you love doing, do it.

Even things that do involve the genitals can be affected by the gender binary. Sex is so much better without gender normality. If you believe that women can only be penetrated, and men can only penetrate, you eliminate so many pleasurable acts. One in particular that suffers from “real man” syndrome is anal penetration. Male bodied individuals have prostates, anal stimulation feels good to many of them, and yet if a man allows himself to be penetrated, even by a woman, people will ask him if he’s gay or gender confused. My lover has experienced this exact reaction by quite a few people, and those more ruled by gender norms won’t hear reason. Although, I’ve also watched the realization dawn on more than one man’s face when they talked to my lover, and I’ve listened to more than one admit that they, too, like prostate stimulation. It makes sense, as well, that women could enjoy being the one to penetrate. Not to mention, taking the aggressor dynamic out of sex can make it more pleasurable for both parties. The one being penetrated, and the one doing the penetrating can be equals, or the dynamic can be reversed, when you take away the dynamic of “men” as aggressors and “women” as passive.

No matter what you define as the specifications to be a “real man” or a “real woman”, no one can live up to it. Unless there’s maybe one extremely lucky individual living somewhere in the middle of nowhere, possible on a desert island in the Atlantic. What we need is to stop the binary all together and let people be people. Let the individuality of each person shine through, and view every individual for who and what they are, regardless of what’s between their legs.

I think that when we talk about kink, fetishes are often overlooked, with the notable exception of the ever popular foot fetish, and what fetishes aren’t overlooked are often misunderstood and sometimes mocked. Admitting that you have a fetish, particularly an uncommon one, can be more nerve wracking, and more difficult, than admitting you like to be tied up and spanked. A little slap and tickle is more common than you’d think. But people who don’t have or recognize a fetish of their own sometimes have a difficult time understanding those who do. I have a hard time understanding my own fetishes sometimes, but in the interest of adding to the dialogue about fetishes, I want to tell you about a few of mine.

My most prominent fetish is probably for classic cars. The more beautiful and powerful the car, the better. My favorites are 1960’s muscle cars. When I say I have a fetish, I don’t just mean that I admire them. The sound of a powerful engine arouses me. I have a fantasy about masturbating on the hood of a particular car; having sex on the hood of it would be even better. I have a similar fetish for certain motorcycles to a slightly lesser degree, as well. Newer cars don’t have the same appeal to me. A 1990’s Honda won’t turn me on the way a ‘72 Dodge Charger will. The most perplexing part is that I can’t think of a single event in my life that could have sparked this fetish. Maybe it’s just the roar of the engine, the vibrations of the car itself as it sails down the highway that does me in.

A fetish I do think I might have an explanation for is my boot fetish. Frankly, feet creep me out, but throw a pair of boots on them, and suddenly I want to lick those boots, worship them. I’m pretty sure that it’s because I associate boots with power. People who wear boots are in a position of power, or else they themselves have power on a more personal level. Boots are the symbol of that power in my mind, and therefore, I developed a fetish for them. I’m not sure if it’s because I crave power, or because I crave someone to hold power over me, or perhaps both. I think it’s probably both, because my fantasies range from having my lover tend to boots I’m wearing, to kneeling before him and worshiping the boots on his feet.

I think one of my more perplexing fetishes is directed toward scars. I find scar tissue to be strikingly beautiful. Long, jagged scars are yet another licking temptation. I want to trace them with my fingers and my tongue. I think that I view scars as a symbol of strength and survival. The big, rough scars I admire the most almost always come from some form of injury that had to be survived. Every scar has a story, and those stories entrance me. Although stories of foolishness can make a scar lose it’s interest to me. If someone tells me their scar came from a nasty spill on sharp rocks, they have my interest, but if they tell me they got it trying to ride a sled off the roof, my interest is lost. It’s also possible that scars interest me because they usually mean someone is adventurous. Someone is less likely to get a scar sitting in front of the TV watching the outdoor channel than they are if they actually go outdoors.

Possibly connected to my scar fetish is the least common among my fetishes; my eye patch fetish. I suppose it could be similar to a bandage fetish, but it isn’t the same thing. Eye patches arouse me, but only the elegant, fancy ones. Cheap plastic or tape on eye patches don’t have the same effect. It’s actually one of my more prevalent fetishes, and also the one I noticed the least until I really sat down and thought about my fetishes. Throw an eye patch on a character, and chances are pretty good that I’ll favor that character. Hair falling across the face and covering one eye has a similar effect. Even facial scars will occasionally catch my eye. It’s possible that it’s the asymmetry that catches my attention. Something about the imperfection just does it for me.

Speaking of imperfections, I also have a fetish for being marked. It doesn’t matter how. it could be bite marks, marks from fingernails, bruises, or even just cum on my skin. I think I’d even let my lover cut me if he wanted to, just as long as he was careful. I crave his mark on my skin. I think this one at least might be a fairly common fetish, even if it isn’t quite to the extent mine is in most people.

Anyway, take a page out of my book. Discuss your fetishes, whether it’s with your partner, or with people with similar fetishes on internet forums, or even at local meet and greets. Don’t be ashamed of your fetishes, and don’t let anyone convince you that you should be ashamed, unless your fetish hurts innocent people or animals. If no one is harmed by your fetish, embrace it. It could just spice up your sex life.

I’m kinky. I know it sounds like a sordid confession, but really, it’s a plain and simple fact. I’ve known for a while that I’m kinky, I enjoy a wide variety of activities that make most “vanilla” people look at me like I’m off my bloody gourd when they find out. The thing is, where is the line between vanilla and kink? Is it bondage? What about anal sex? Is any position other than missionary kinky? I’m not quite conservative enough to believe that last one, and I’m pretty sure my love of taking it in the ass isn’t what makes me kinky, although my kinkiness might play into it a bit. The thing is, kink is like the Matrix, when you’re in it, you don’t really see it. You become desensitized to things that the vanilla world might find shocking, and that’s okay. So, why don’t I tell you about some of my more memorable kinky experiences, and let you decide how far into the Kink-Matrix I’ve fallen.

My first experience with pain and pleasure was with solo blood and needle play. I cut myself, always in areas that were safe to cut in, always with a sterile blade, and never beyond the first layer of skin. It hurt, which for me felt incredible. I’m a masochist to the core. It wasn’t a cry for help or an attempt at suicide. I was careful. I won’t go into the reactions my self-harm got from those around me, but I will say that from that experience, I learned to be careful who knew about my kink. Blood play was my first form of masturbation, because manipulating my own genitals never really did it for me, and cutting myself did. Beyond the knives, I also included sterilized sewing needles in my solo-kink. I’d line them up in rows through my arms for the pain and the visual appeal.

For me, kink has always lined up with art in a way. Although the pain is what I desire, I find the visual reminders of that pain to be intensely beautiful. From the bloody lines of a knife stroke, to the red welts left by fingernails or flogger, I can’t help but admire the marks our play leaves on my body and my lover’s. I love beauty in my pain, but I also have a kink for pure art, things that are visually appealing can be a massive turn on for me, even when not much else is. I love how paint on skin looks, when it’s there to be beautiful. A haphazard splash of paint, on hands, face, or body can catch my eye like nothing else. It says, “this is an artist.” I look at the smooth expanse of my lover’s back, and I can’t help seeing a perfect canvas for my paint or my nails. A good tattoo can tempt my hands and my tongue to worship it. Art and the creation thereof, no matter if it’s traditionally considered art, or just beautiful nonsense, appeals to me.

Sometimes the kink is unintentional. Once I was with my lover on a cold night. We’d been outside, and I’d been drinking a cold soda on top of that. One thing lead to another, and we ended up fooling around. But instead of having me warm my hands up before I touched him, he asked me to touch him with my hands still icy cold. The entire thing degenerated into a temperature play scene from there, and although I already knew he liked cold sensations, I learned exactly how much.

I’m a masochist through and through. Perhaps one of my most memorable kink experiences was when my lover was learning to use a crop and a flogger. Our mentor showed him how to use each one, then gave them to him to use them on me. Before that, he’d been afraid to try impact play beyond using his hand on my ass, because he was afraid he’d do me harm rather than cause pleasurable pain. It didn’t take him long at all, once he figured out what he was doing, to pick up the proper technique for using each implement of pain. By the end of the night I had welts, bruises, and enough orgasms to leave even me sated and sleepy. He’d gotten me so deep into sub-space I probably would have done anything he’d asked at the drop of a hat, but he never asked anything unreasonable of me. For that, he has my trust.

Just as good as being flogged myself is flogging him. I like to have him bound, so he can’t move while I work on him, even if that binding is just my command to not move. It’s best when his hands are spread above his head. The noises he makes when the flogger strokes his skin are music to me, and the trust he places in me is perhaps the greatest rush of them all.

We’ve also taken turns with a knife, or at least what the other believes at the time to be a knife, tracing patterns on each other’s skin. There’s an inherent thrill to the danger, or perceived danger, presented by a sharp blade that close to your skin.

I’ve been bound, both with simple bindings and elaborate rope work, and I’ve had my lover bound. We’ve done sensation play scenes where one or the other of us is bound, blindfolded, and the other is free to use any toy in the box on them, from vibrators to folding lace fans.

Then there are scenes that push the boundaries of normal behavior. I’d be a liar if I claimed I didn’t enjoy a little force fantasy from time to time, although ours tend to run closer to the “forceful seduction” end of the spectrum than the violent force end. The particular scene I have in mind started as a battle for dominance, progressed through him pinning me and touching me until I gave in, and ended with me begging him to fuck my ass.

Besides all that, I’m also into being a human animal. I like being kept on a leash and given commands; I like to leash him and command him, and I also like it when he is an animal with me. I like to nuzzle, lick, purr, growl, bite, and nicker. I don’t really identify with one single animal in this headspace, it’s more like a mix of animals that I feel a certain kinship to. Sometimes it’s nice to not have to be human with all the messy expectations that entails, though. To be able to play and fuck without letting the human mind get in the way, just for a little while can be a wonderful kind of release.

So there’s a little glimpse into a few of my kinks. In the interest of keeping this article from running away with me, I’ll stop here. So, how far into the Kink-Matrix have I traveled, would you say? Am I fairly vanilla, or super kinky? Or are you so far into the Kink-Matrix you can’t tell either? There are all kinds of people out there with all kinds of kinks, so I guess it’s really difficult to tell.

“You’re going to get yourself raped.” Has anyone ever said this to you? If they have, what were you wearing? What was the topic of conversation? If you haven’t, you’re lucky. It’s a painful thing to hear. It doesn’t matter if you’re a slut, a prude, or a virgin; gay, straight, questioning, bisexual, or pansexual. You could be asexual or demisexual; childfree, waiting for the right person, attempting to conceive, or a parent. Someone, somewhere, is going to have a problem with how you conduct your sex life, and that isn’t so bad when you can conduct an open conversation and both sides try to be understanding, but when threats are leveled, and preemptive victim blaming takes place, it isn’t alright. It happens to all kinds of people all the time, so let me tell you a little about my experience as a prude.

The first time I heard that despicable phrase, if I recall correctly, my step-father was on another of his tirades about how I was never good enough. I can’t recall exactly if he was telling me how I’d probably end up pregnant and disgraceful before I even got out of high school, or if he was demanding, once again, that I marry a “good christian boy” and have lots of children. He might have been speculating on my state of “dyke-dom” again, for all I can recall. Whatever prompted it, I sheepishly confessed that I wasn’t having sex, I didn’t want to have sex, because I didn’t feel sexual desire. It set him off, and that lead to an hour long rant starting with “You’re such a little prude, you’re going to get yourself raped, and maybe that’ll fix ya.”

He wasn’t the only one, either. Other family members and friends told me variations on the same thing. From “You’re nothing but a cock-tease, if you won’t have sex, you’re going to get yourself raped.” to “If you won’t have sex, you’re going to be alone. If you date someone and won’t have sex with him, he should rape you.” and even “If you don’t have sex, how will you have children? If you don’t have kids, you’re going to Hell.” What’s worse, none of those things were said spitefully. They were said in that same well meaning tone people normally reserve for “how not to get raped” advice. They could have just as easily been telling me not to walk alone at night, or not to dress like a “slut.”

I don’t think they quite saw the twisted humor in telling me that I should have sex I didn’t want in order to avoid being “raped,” as though there were that much of a difference between the two. If you consent to sex just so you don’t get raped, how is that any different than any other form of coercion?

Not to mention the double standard. If I had sex with everyone, or even a handful of people, I would be a “slut”, and then they’d tell me, “Don’t have so much sex, you’re going to get yourself raped.” or “Don’t dress like that, you’ll get yourself raped.” I think that if I’d told them I was saving myself for marriage instead, they might have had a different reaction, as well. Then I would have been a “good girl” rather than just broken in their eyes.

I’m not sure why people are so intent on “fixing” people with low or no sex drive. It’s not like having sex will magically make it better, it’ll just mean they’re having sex they don’t want to appease the masses. If someone is content without sex, why should they have sex? Why fix what isn’t broken when it isn’t hurting anyone?

Another problematic thing about it was the phrasing. They never said, “someone might rape you.” it was always “you’re going to get yourself raped.” As though by being asexual, I was inviting someone to rape me. No one, ever, wants to be raped. The very nature of rape is that it is nonconsensual. Nobody “gets themselves raped”. People choose to rape, and it isn’t the victim’s fault, ever.

The worst part, though, was that it almost seems like they were right. I was molested. I won’t call it rape, because my genitals weren’t touched, but more than one person, upon hearing that I didn’t respond sexually, decided that they would “make me respond.” I’ve been kissed against my will, had my breasts and ass fondled, been backed into a corner and felt up, had my hair pulled, and even been pinned down and humped. All of these things were done by people I considered friends at the time and trusted enough to tell that I thought I was asexual.

I’m not sure if the problem comes out of our society’s hang-ups over sex. The “life script” that tells us we should meet someone, get married, lose our virginity to that person, and have children, in that order, or some other internalized issue, needs to stop. It wasn’t my actions that “got me molested”. It was the mindset that a victim is asking for it by acting a certain way, when in reality, no one is asking for it. The mindset that someone can “get themselves raped” is the problem.