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The sex was fine at first.
I had promised him total obedience, and had delivered, to the extent that I enthusiastically sucked on his toes when he told me to.
But after he came and we cleaned up and were laying in bed I felt upset. The sexual degradation had been especially intense and then he had refused to let me smoke a cigarette. He yelled when I moved too much in bed. I wondered if he thought he was actually in charge of me.
Looking for comfort, I asked him if I had been obedient enough. He said I had done "okay," but that he wished I could act more "insatiable" like Porn Star X, Y, or Z.
In the morning, he woke me up by saying, "spread your fucking legs."
I did. He penetrated me and fucked me roughly. I was very sore, dry from the night before. It was incredibly painful. I didn't tell him to stop. Part of me liked the idea of being totally used in this way.
Finally I started to whimper and my face must have looked pained.
"Does that hurt?" He asked.
"Yes," I sobbed.
"Good," he said firmly and kept going.
I started to cry. I was in so much pain and I felt afraid and devalued. It was beginning to blur the line between play and reality. I wondered how he could still be aroused when I was heavily crying.
Soon, he realized that I was upset and stopped. I sat up on the bed, crying, with my face in my hands.
He told me to let him hold me and he whispered that he wouldn't hurt me. Eventually I fell into his arms and he stroked my hair. He told me that I was okay and that he wouldn't hurt me.
After I calmed down slightly, he started to talk straight.
"Is this fun and exciting, or scary and bad?"
"I don't know," I said, still sobbing.
The truth is that it was and always had been all of those things. If it weren't "scary" in parts, it would cease to feel real, and thus wouldn't any longer be "fun." We want experiences to push limits and feel uncontrived, we want to feel genuine emotions during sex.
And therein lies the rub.
I wonder—where is the line between wanting sexual play to feel natural and real, but not wanting to actually feel like less of a person? I wonder—how can you ever totally anticipate your boundaries? Where is the line between a woman choosing to pursue sexual autonomy, and caving to a misogynistic society that encourages the sexual degradation of women?