Friday, April 30, 2004

I don't belong here

Last night in the course of amusing myself before bedtime, I fell back on what is becoming an old standby: Yahoo! groups.

If you've ever searched for any sort of "adult" material on there, you know what I mean. If you haven't, go there and search for something like "submissive", or "lesbian", or any other sort of prurient interest you have. Then, simply read the descriptions of what comes up.

I never knew nuns were allowed to be submissive lesbians.

While searching, I came across another old standby of mine - medical fetishism. Of course there's groups for it; there's a group for everything (as evidenced above). Some of them even have really, really good pictures and stories - made even better because they're free.

The attraction to gyno exams - the main branch of the fetish for me - is the vulnerability, I think. Here you are, legs spread, your most intimate parts wide open to a relative stranger who is looking at and touching them. It's allowing a part of yourself that most women kept hidden to be lit up and shown off. Better yet, you have to, because the doctor has to make sure you're healthy, right?

That aspect of control is also attractive, I'll admit. You may have noticed that I'm an "occasional sub". I've been known to switch, but I'll be honest, I prefer being on the bottom. Being controlled, completely controlled, by someone is a very, very sexy prospect. Especially when that control includes sex-type things. Most of the erotica I read, most of the porn I watch, most of the fantasies I have revolve around aspects of D/s and related techniques - see also bondage. I don't think I'd be able to do many things - including the above-mentioned exhibitionism - unless someone was making me.

But back to medical fetishism. J bought me a (plastic, unfortunately) speculum a few years ago now, while we were still in college. I rememeber it wasn't until August of that year that we finally got to use it. His remarks? "Dammit woman, you're too wet, I can't see anything." I don't know if he's put two and two together yet. Of course, I could spell it out to him. He tells me that all the time. He also tells me that if I'm interested in sex, I should just jump him. Somehow, I never do though. Part of it is that I think he should know me well enough to read my mind - or pick up on the subtle signals I give him - and part of it is the way I was raised.

Sex was never talked about in my parents' house. Ever. I never even fully realized what masturbation was - for males or females - until I was in college. The thought of touching myself never even crossed my mind until after I was dating J for a long, long time. The closest I got to sex wsa reading romance novels - something I still do to this day. But reading and talking about it are two different things.

So I'm not exactly in the habit of talking about my sexual interests and preferences - well, not anything beyond strictly vanilla things, anyway. J knows about my submissive tendencies, and a few of my more mundane kinky interests, like bondage and all that, but anything "extreme"? Not ever mentioned. Too scared. It's a miracle I even mentioned to him that I wouldn't mind maybe having my wrists tied to the bed one time maybe while we were having sex.

Not that I think he'll get rid of me just because I'm interested in something beyond the proverbial pale. I've yet to shock or otherwise freak him out, and sometimes I have tried. Sure, I haven't gone into my hypnotism or medical interests, but we have had nice discussions about wooden ponies and suction before. It's kind of a gradual process, this whole "honesty and openness" thing.

We'll see. For now I'm going to dig around in all the new groups I joined last night and get some ideas. Maybe eventually I'll even share them.

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