Thoughts on Aftercare

Aftercare is an essential part of any type of BDSM whether it is a long drawn out scene or a simple spanking when the kids aren’t home. It makes the end of playtime a much more comforting experience and can be a great time for bonding with your partner(s.) As a submissive I know that being held and loved and being able to slowly drift out of subspace and knowing I’m safe is just an amazing feeling. But to me, even in my own relationship, it feels like aftercare is mostly directed towards the submissive. However if you stop for a moment and think about it, dominants or tops need their own version of aftercare as things can be quite demanding on them as well. The questions to ask though are A) do they get that aftercare and B) how can we improve upon the idea of aftercare for them so they get something out of it?

My partner and I have discussed this particular topic more than once and sometimes the aftercare for them is simply being able to take care of me. That helps them come back to center and feel more settled. But I often wonder if I, as a submissive, am doing enough to help them get there because many times I’m a shaking puddle of happiness, drifting through subspace and that makes it hard for me to do much beyond hold onto them and tell them that I love them. Repeatedly. Maybe that is what they need most in that moment. Sometimes, however, they need some space to put themselves back together and that’s OK too. Usually I get a drink and cuddles and they make sure I’m alright before giving me a blanket and ensuring that I know they won’t be far and I can always call out to them if I need them. That is another thing that works for us. What works for us might not work for you.

On the flip side, perhaps you are the submissive who considers things like getting your dominant a drink and making sure their needs are met could be part of your aftercare too. Perhaps you arrange things before hand to make it easy, which is great for planned things, but harder for more spontaneous play (unless you’re super organized and always keep things ready for when anytime becomes playtime.) However you do it I think that finding a way to take care of a top, just as they take care of a submissive is an important thing in any relationship, no matter how serious or casual things are between the people involved.

Aftercare means different things to different people and it can vary so widely that I don’t want to attempt to guess at what it means for you personally. I do want to suggest that readers take a long look at how they practice aftercare and see if there’s a way things can be different that might allow the dominant person to receive more or better aftercare as it seems to be good for them as well. If they are struggling to be grounded after a scene, what can you do to help them come back to center? Do they need touch and closeness? Do they need space? And lastly, how can you combine the aftercare for a submissive with the aftercare of a dominant in a way that allows the people involved to all get what they need?

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Wicked Wednesday 330 – A New Beginning

(Content Warning: This story discusses abuse, mental, emotional, physical and sexual. If this is something you’d prefer to not read I do understand. Keep yourself safe. Love, Livvy)

Brittany hadn’t been involved in a romantic or sexual relationship in years, not since the night her ex-husband left, leaving her beaten and violated in the process. The trauma had been enough to scare her away from any dating, even though there had been a time in her and her husband’s relationship where they had both enjoyed going out together and picking up pretty young women or handsome men. But as they grew older and Frank gained a bit of weight and felt like his wife was more attracted to other men than to him, the abuse started. It was little things at first, she barely noticed. But by the end, every thing was a fucking train wreck for her. She felt that was lucky she got out when she did and was able to start over. But being alone was…well, lonely.

She’d been through therapy and it helped some and she was on medication that was supposed to help the nightmares go away, but it only made her gain weight, which made her laugh bitterly at the irony there. Frank would’ve beat her and probably worse if she’d let herself go while they were together and now that she was free of him, here she was twenty pounds heavier and still terrified to reach out to anyone for anything. Her co-workers had finally given up on trying to make friends with her and the few friends she’d had before the divorce had drifted away afterwards when they couldn’t reach her through the fog of her own mental anguish. As the darkness ascended, her own terror became palpable every single night. Nightmares full of a hell that she relived over and over, of being held down and raped while he slapped her and called her a whore, waking up tied down and being forced to suck his dick until her shot his come across her face and left her there, immobile until he was ready for her again, and those were the tamer nightmares that she had. The mental and emotional hell had been worse because she couldn’t just disassociate herself from the name calling, the fights used against her, the gaslighting; it was all burned into her brain.

Rarely did she go out, except to handle necessities like groceries and other sundries, but when she was out she was constantly on high alert. Even seeing a man that had the same build as Frank was sometimes enough to leave her backing away in fear and hoping it wasn’t him, even though she knew he’d moved away after the divorce. On one of her trips she spotted a man, about her age, who looked nothing like Frank and watched him covertly as they both did their shopping in the small store. She was lonely she admitted to herself, but could she ever be that vulnerable again?

David watched the pretty, plump brunette that was watching him and wondered how to get her number without seeming too forward. He’d noticed her shopping before and she behaved like a frightened animal might if something unexpected crossed its path. He’d noticed it was always certain men who frightened her and he wondered who had hurt her so badly. He shook his head in frustration, knowing that, while, in his eyes, the good outweighed the bad, there was plenty of bad to be afraid of. It made him angry that a man could be so cruel to a woman, to anyone else, but he wasn’t naive enough t think the world was sunshine and roses.

After Brittany realized she’d been caught watching him, she hurried away, quickly finished her shopping and left. But by sheer coincidence they kept finding themselves shopping at the same time. David dared to smile at her and one time she gave him a tremulous smile in return. It was a good sign he thought. Next time he saw her, he posed a question about the best apples to buy and she took a deep breath before telling him that Fuji apples were her favorite. Her voice was so soft and quiet, he could barely hear her. He didn’t know that her heart was pounding so hard she could practically hear it or that he was the first man she’d spoken to outside of her job in longer than perhaps she cared to admit. Her therapist called this progress. Still the nightmares plagued her. She woke in a cold sweat one night, recalling how Frank had forced her to fellate the barrel of a gun that might or might not have been loaded while he jerked off to the scene before him, occasionally threatening to pull the trigger.

Weeks passed and each time David stopped her with a warm smile to say hello she grew less nervous about the tall, auburn haired man with his wire rimmed glasses; she realized she looked forward to seeing him. When he first suggested coffee she nearly turned and ran, but was able to stay calm and before she could think heard herself agreeing to an afternoon coffee date at a nearby cafe. Their relationship progressed slowly, with her setting the pace of things for the most part, although David dared to prod gently now and then, wanting to learn more about her. She indicated that she’d been though a bad divorce, but gave no other details. That alone was enough for David to fill in a few blanks.

After a solid year of coffees and dinners and the occasional trip to the movies, Brittany felt that David truly meant her no harm and she invited him in for a drink one night, wondering if she could handle where things might lead. She didn’t think he would push her to do anything, but there was a residual amount of fear still left in her. They shared a half a bottle of wine, rehashing the movie and talking about whatever came up. Before he left David turned to her, quite seriously, “Brittany, I don’t know what happened in your past or how I can help, but I’d very much like to be part of your future. And I’m going to ask you something I’ve wanted to ask for months. Can I give you a kiss?”

Brittany blinked in surprise; she couldn’t have looked more like a startled rabbit than she did right then and took a deep breath. Stepping closer to David she placed her hands in his and tilted her face to his. “Yes you can.” And their lips met, gently at first, and Brittany had to force back the tiniest feeling of panic. This was David and he wouldn’t hurt her. She trusted him. And slowly the kiss moved from gentle and tender to something a bit hotter, until Brittany pulled away gasping. She took a deep breath to steady herself and David smiled at her. “Goodnight Britt.” And he left her at her front door wanting more and realizing that maybe she could have it after all.

Wicked Wednesday – 319 – Let Your Partner Say No

I’m guessing that some of you read the title of this post and immediately though, “Well duh, Livvy”, but I’m not just talking about giving or removing the idea of enthusiastic consent here, although that’s obviously important as well, even in relationships where there is also implied consent. There is something more to be said for letting your partner say no within a sexual situation (or any situation really.)

Having agency within one’s life, sexual or otherwise is incredibly important and, I feel, incredibly freeing. You’re not obligated to go along with the crowd and it lets you do what you need or want to do both in and out of bed. This is something that I think many people think about too much because going with the flow has always been encouraged, especially, it seems for girls and women. We’re expected to say yes to all kinds of things, even when we want to say no. But back to saying no in a sexual context without specifically removing consent.

Here’s an example of what I mean. Let’s say that my partner wants to try bringing food into the bedroom to play with, but on their own they decide that I wouldn’t like it and therefore they don’t bring the idea up at all because they have essentially already made the choice for me (i.e. assumed I’d say no.) BUT, if my partner comes to me outside of a sexual context and says hey, maybe we should get some edible chocolate and some whipped cream to play with in bed. Suddenly I have agency again and I can decide if it is something I want to do or not. For the record, it would be a no; I’ve heard that the edible chocolate stuff is really gross and I don’t want to be sticky from whipped cream. By not making a choice for me, my partner has given me a choice to say yes or no to that particular act. Notice that I’m not saying no to sex as a whole or to other things, but just to the idea of food in bed. It can be your yum, but it certainly isn’t mine.

The example above is pretty clear and concrete and defines what I mean relatively precisely. And it can be about anything between you and your partner, whether its related to your sex life or not. It’s simply another good way to share your lives together and to communicate in ways that give you both the power to say yes or no to any given thing at any given time. There’s no pressure or expectation that something has to be done, especially when we focus back on sex, and instead it creates an open dialog that might given you more or different or better ideas of things to suggest to your partner.

So, yes it is a form of consent to let your partner say no to something just like any other type of consent that is out there, but in this case it can give them the freedom or permission that they need to say no in other parts of their lives as well because they may feel empowered knowing that they can say no to you, so they can say no to others. Never assume that you’re idea is too kinky or weird or vanilla or whatever and that your partner won’t like it. Just ask them!

 

Wicked Wednesday 293 – The ex – (I Might as Well Enjoy It)

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So I’ve written before about my ex husband and some of the hell he put me through. I won’t rehash that again here, but for anyone that really wants to read it here’s the link (CW: abuse, rape) Today, I have another story, one that makes me laugh instead of be angry or sad.

“If you’re going to get shit for it, you might as well enjoy it.” Those were the words spoken to me in a quiet conversation by a good friend and my now partner after my ex-husband had accused me for the umpteenth time of cheating on him with any number of various people. Now, I will state for the record that of all the people he accused me of sleeping with, I never slept with any of them, despite having opportunity. I tried to take my marriage vows seriously, even as my marriage disintegrated. But the idea of enjoying myself just because I got shit for it appealed to me.

So I did. I flirted and teased and hugged my friends, male or female, it didn’t matter to me or to them and many of them were in on the joke. Looking back at it, it was probably the most immature thing I could’ve done, but it was still a lot of fun. It drove my husband crazy, but he never once found evidence, even when he started stalking me at the end of our marriage, that I had cheated on him.

When my current partner and I were still just friends before we ended up in my bed one night with them pulling my hair, we cuddled under a blanket and talked about silly things like sending imaginary cuddly photos to my ex or joked about getting married and inviting him to the wedding. Honestly the wedding joke should’ve been my first clue I was going to end up with this person, that I had wanted from afar for so very long. But that’s a different story.

One night the ex stopped by when it was just me and my partner (before we got together) and while we did nothing but sat beside one another, the ex seemed quite curious and was obviously watching us. This could’ve been a prime opportunity to really yank the man’s chain, but I refrained largely because I was honestly scared of what he might do. A short time later he asked to speak to me alone so we stepped outside for what should’ve only been a few minutes, but was more like a half hour to forty five minutes while he tried to pump me for information and asked why we had broken up and wanted to know if we could still be friends. When I’d had enough of his bullshit I turned to walk away and he followed me, trying to bar my way back into my own apartment. Shortly thereafter I had my locks changed. But, again, I’m getting off track.

I took a lot of shit for a long time and finally I decided that I may as well live it up. I’ve taken those words that were said to me and tried to apply them to my life as it is today. Happily, I no longer have to deal with a man who accused me of cheating among other things and there is a kind of absolute trust in my relationship now that neither of us would cheat on the other or deliberately cause harm. That said, I will reiterate that at the time I did enjoy making my spouse think all kinds of things and it was, in some small part, a bit of revenge for the way he treated me in other ways. I’m not perfect and I might as well enjoy it.

Wicked Wednesday 286 – Wedding Night

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Allen and Lana had a small, but relatively fancy wedding; a concession to Lana’s mother who had wanted to go huge and invite everybody and then some. Instead she suffered a small wedding that she got to plan and boy could she plan. But this isn’t really about Allen and Lana’s wedding, although it went off without a hitch and was quite lovely.

Allen and Lana arrived at the small private cottage at an exclusive resort in the mountains and Lana laughed as Allen insisted upon carrying her across the threshold even though this wasn’t really home. She had a feeling he’d try it again when they got home though. They relaxed and began to unwind with one another talking about nothing much at all. Allen built a fire and they sat in front of the flames arm in arm.

It began with a soft kiss. A gentle touch. His fingers in her red hair. “I love you Mrs. Green.” Lana smiled at that, “I like it. Tell me again.” “I love you Mrs. Green.” “And I love you Mr. Green.” They chuckled and snuggled closer still kissing in front of the fire. But the fire wasn’t the only thing keeping them warm. Heavy with the emotion that hung in the air and heavy with desire for one another the soft kisses gradually turned more urgent and demanding. Lana made the first move tonight, her deft fingers beginning to unbutton the soft black shirt he’d changed into after the ceremony. Quickly she had her hands planted against his bare chest and slid them up to his shoulders to remove the shirt completely. She leaned down and covered his chest in soft, chaste kisses that worked their way ever closer to the top of his pants before making her way back up to kiss him again on the lips. He ran his hands down her back to squeeze her ass and they both groaned softly. “I want you, I need you.” And he kissed her fiercely before pulling her over top of him.

Their bodies ground together insistently as lips touched and hands tugged and pulled at clothing. Finally they were both nude, Lana’s expensive lingerie forgotten in the other room where she’d meant to change, but the urgency was too much. Allen sat up, looking at his beautiful bride for a moment before trailing burning kisses along her skin. He worshipped her nude body from her toes to the top of her head, leaving her squirming and breathless under his touches and kisses. She stared up at him with those grey eyes, her love and need for him obvious on her face. He gave her another once over and whispered, “I can’t wait. I need you now.”

And with a gentle kiss he settled himself between her welcoming thighs, sliding his cock inside of her. Lana moaned for him, arching her hips against his touch and pulled him close. “More.” And her legs wrapped around him tightly. There was no slowness or patience between them just an ever growing urgency as they fucked. He drove deeply into her and her body quivered around him. Lana’s head thrashed wildly and she squeezed her legs tighter, wanting everything Allen could give and he gave her exactly what she was asking for. Soon their movements became more frantic, more out of sync; Lana’s voice was a quiet, constant moan, and Allen’s was a whisper urging her on. As an orgasm ripped through her the dirty words that left his mouth became an, “I love you.” and that only made her writhe harder, tightening and squeezing around him, her legs a vice around his body at the same time.

As Lana came back to herself she stared at up at him. “I love you too. Now do that again.” He laughed softly and kissed her once more. As she let her legs relax, splayed out around him, he began to move slowly, teasing her, wanting to draw out the experience. She wiggled her hips and held him closer to her, her voice soft and decidedly naughty, “Allen James Green, stop being a tease and just fuck your wife.” And she gave him a cheeky grin. Between the look on her face and her words he was undone and began to fuck her urgently as she pressed her heels into the ground driving her hips against his. She reached between them, her fingers finding her clit and Allen stopped to watch her for a moment before he forced himself to move again. “I want to watch you make yourself come for me later. You’ll do that won’t you, wife?” His voice ended on a soft growl that Lana loved and she moaned a yes as he drove her ever closer to another earth shattering orgasm. It built more slowly this time, his body looming over hers in the firelight, their shadows echoing the couple’s movements. Lana wrapped her free hand around Allen’s neck and pulled him down for a kiss, her hips and fingers never ceasing their motion. That kiss was his final undoing as her tongue tangled with his. His hips bucked against hers and she could feel how close he was. “Do it. I want to feel you come inside me for the first time.” Allen threw his head back and they both moaned as he lost control. That drove Lana to another orgasm and she held onto him tightly, riding it out.

After a long moment, they settled back onto the carpet rolling so Lana was wrapped in Allen’s arms and snuggled together in front of the fire. Lana smiled lazily. “I love you. And I love the way you feel inside me. We need to do that more often.” Allen laughed and stroked her hair. “Oh we will, love. We will.”

There are several more stories in this series and they can be found here, here, here, and here. Enjoy!

KOTW – Cutting/tearing off clothes (Memento)

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I’d never really given the idea of tearing or cutting clothing off during sex much thought. I’d never had a partner try it and despite reading about it in plenty of erotica it didn’t really catch my eye. Besides, I reasoned, why would I want to ruin a perfectly good pair of cute panties or a good shirt?

And then it happened. The very first time I had sex with a certain partner I got a little wild and while I didn’t tear their clothing completely off, I did rip the shoulder out of the t-shirt that they were wearing. I was in such a head space that I didn’t recall it at the time, but I was told about it later with a laugh. I was also told to just pitch the shirt as it was (obviously) now ruined. Instead I kept the shirt and put it on the next night when I got home from work. I wasn’t sure if that encounter would be our only one and if it was then I was keeping the shirt as a memento of some of the best sex I’ve ever had (maybe even the best.)

It is years later and I still have that shirt, and the partner, if anyone is wondering. I’ve worn it to dye my hair so now it had purple spots on it, it has food stains that never quite came out, it’s old and tattered and I refuse to part with it. I actually almost cried when I got hair dye on to be honest. It is just a little thing, but it means so much to me that I can’t bring myself to part with it. It will forever be a piece of my history that is etched in my brain in flashes and snippets and moments of clarity and that is something that I cherish completely.

Wicked Wednesday 283 – Memory Lane (Traumatic)

WARNING: This post is about sexual assault and rape and may be triggering for some readers. Please take care of you and if you’re worried about this causing a problem feel free to skip this post. Love, Livvy

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When I told my ex-husband I wanted a divorce, he asked me why and I simply told him I was gay. There was far more to the story than that, but that’s for another time. He took this declaration of mine as a personal challenge. His stance included a suicide threat that was nothing more than attention grabbing, but far worse than that was the quickly escalated abuse.

He wouldn’t have penetrative sex with me because I had immediately stopped taking my birth control in order to avoid just such a thing happening, but he wanted something so he grabbed me by the hair and forced me to give him a blow job. I choked and gagged and eventually he grew disgusted with me and threw me back across the bed. I honestly thought he was going to physically harm me at that point. If things had stopped there it might have been OK for me. I might have mentally been able to get over that particular incident (although I’d put up with years of such treatment.) But that wasn’t the end of it.

Several days later he found me nude in our bedroom. He asked me if he could perform oral sex on me and I said no. I found this to be an odd request given how he’d never liked doing so before now. But when I said no he kept pushing and trying manipulate me into giving in. Finally (and to my shame) I did. Why? Because I just wanted it to stop. Later I learned of the term coercive rape and that is what had happened to me there. I didn’t even have the courage or ability left in me to fight back and stand up for myself. I felt so defeated and broken. I felt like it was my fault for a very long time and it has taken years for me to learn and understand otherwise

These are two memories that will stick with me, and haunt me, for the rest of my life. Sometimes I still wake up crying. It took some time before I would let my current partner see me naked and more before I was OK with oral sex again. I try to remember these good times when the bad ones come rushing back. It helps. So does talking about it.

But today I’m writing about it largely to get the term coercive rape out there. For all the people who were pressured, badgered, and manipulated into a sexual act that they didn’t want, you’re not alone. And it isn’t or wasn’t your fault. If you’re suffering or struggling, please seek help. Talk to a counselor, a trusted friend, your pastor…whoever you can open up to (I know that’s hard), but it helps the healing process. I’ve struggled with opening up and I rarely go into detail about this if I do talk about it. I use euphemisms and subtle hints and references, but rarely do I say anything words related to sexuality out loud. I just don’t have it in me to do so.

And I know these are terrible memories to share and I hope that my readers will forgive me, but I needed to talk about this as I do every so often, because even after half a decade I am still trying to process it all, still trying to cope. I don’t know if I’ll ever be better, but I’ll be stronger eventually.