#kink shaming

I don’t normally kink shame, but lewd sexualizing posts about a clown that preyed on fear, racism, hatred, and homophobia, based on a book with a child sex orgy is Not Okay™. Please stop writing posts about tenderly fucking Pennywise. First of all, what on earth gives you the impression It’s cuddly? Second, it’s in poor fucking taste. Please do not.

Why are you like this internet? Rule 34 is not a challenge.

lololol I was going back through old posts and looked at the nicknames I gave people and I have quite the collection of ideologies represented (in order of appearance):

• Marxman (actually a Marxist)
  

• The Fascist (not actually a fascist)
  

• The Libertarian (the right wing lib I dated in undergrad whose libertarianism was T H I N N and who I only ever referenced like twice but he has a tag so it still counts)
  

• Anti-Feminist Libertarian Boy (yikes)*
  

• Radical Girl (radical as in rad & radical as in radical, still friends, need to see her more)

• The Anarchist Economist (a bit on the nose I suppose but I like it)
  

PS.
Goddamn I was (and probably still am, if I get back into doing it often enough) an amazing writer much of the time and even some of the things that don’t necessarily get me hot anymore are really hot when I read the way I wrote about them.

PPS.
Holy shit I was into some fucked up shit and wrote out some fucked up fantasies/stories and I totally understand why the kinkshaming radfems came after me, since they apparently they were obtuse enough to think what I was saying was all real (they still suck tho).

PPPS.
Check out the second oldest post in my “voting republican” tag (the other posts are good too) for some high quality high concept kink discourse from some (now lost to the ages) amazing tumblr people. Also the fourth paragraph from the bottom in this post where I talk about being forced to vote Libertarian.

PPPPS.
Also the tag “academic pillowtalk” yields an amazing post where I masturbate to Marxman talking about Foucault and queer assimilation vs. liberation, and then get off to him kinkshaming me, inspired by the aforementioned radfems.

*ffs I tried to fix the tag issue but this is a trash website so just hit this link (boy oh boy the oldest post in that search)

I was bothered by this, like, latest kink shaming round, until I realized that their radfems. Not just that, they seem too be TERFs.

And hey, at least this time, I’m a victim. Like, almost every reblog is calling my partners abusive/horrible and is, like, dripping with handwringing and, like, totes real concern, like, over my well being. They really care. So much. Their, like, certainly not just using me too make themselves, like, seem compassionate. Most cert. And their obvi not ignoring my agency and the, like, reality that I’m a grown ass woman who can make her own choices about how she, like, enjoys having sex.

The, like, post I liked best was the one about how I seem too be involved in a “less abusive” relation now, as opposed too the relationship I’m in with my owner. No, no, sweeties. I just added people in addition to him. I’m still with him. In fact, I’ve also added additional partners who I’m sure these, like, people would consider emotionally abusive, at least. And no doubt that, like, were it possible too do all the things we’ve talked about doing (stupid long distance), they would consider them physically abusive, as well.

Honestly, I, like, think the idea that these men r in any way “abusive” is entirely laughable. Their intelligent, creative, caring people who I have excellent, hilarious, and like, insight ridden conversations with. They respect me, my intelligence, and my agency, like, a billion times more than the kink shamers do.

I talked to Marxman about some of the things that I’ve been thinking and feeling about my tumblr and some of the reactions people have had to it. He made me feel better, so I sent him a nude as thanks, to which he responded “I have 45 minutes before I have to leave for my next class.” We decided to Skype and started to have a conversation about our lives and our pasts and had a little banter within the context of consensual misogyny back and forth. it was just lovely.

While we were talking, I saw that one of the people who’d had a negative reaction to my tumblr had reblogged something from me again. I asked him to tell me not to look at it, because I knew I would and that it would upset me. He said I was not to look at what they said, that no good would come of it. And of course he was right.

We continued talking, and he threw in some Foucault and power, ending by talking about the way the modern LGBT rights movement has been refocused on becoming “normal” with marriage as the goal. Somewhere in the middle, I started touching myself. What can I say? Theory and academic language get me hot, as does discussion of ideas of assimilation vs. liberation.

He called me out and we laughed a bit, and eventually I told him I wanted someone to use the things the kinkshamers had been saying against me, in a sexy way. He gave me permission to cum, and started telling me about all the awful things I was causing and the way I was contributing to making the world a worse place. Eventually he just started reading to me from my blog and sighing at me in a disappointed, disgusted, and little bit condescending way. He’s amazing/awful.

I came hard, listening to him read to me from my own posts, kinkshaming me, using my own words against me, while I imagined him fucking my cunt while doing so.

Then I accidentally saw the post he’d instructed me not to look at, so now I have to go to bed by 11:30. Good night everyone!

I woke up Saturday morning grinding against The Super Sadist. I don’t know who started it, but it did mean I didn’t wake him up with a blowjob. Oops. I’m sure he was terribly disappointed. When we were both completely awake, he said, “I think I should beat you while you read me the stupid things people wrote on your post."  He was referencing the invasion of context-ignoring, kink shaming radfems who had found my face bruise post and were reblogging it and leaving paternalistic, agency-denying, violently anti-dom comments on it. I’d offered the idea of getting hit once for each stupid comment, but I liked his modification even better, and excitedly agreed to the game.

I grabbed my phone and lay on my stomach, giving him access to my ass and thighs. Opening up the post, I started reading. "Who the fuck thinks they are in a healthy relationsh-…” I was interrupted by the feel of his fist connecting with my flesh. He started punching and smacking my ass and thighs, which is my favorite kind of and location for impact. I continued reading the comments, their words punctuated by my moans and gasps as he kept beating me. Feeling him use his hands to hurt me while we talked about, were annoyed by, and expressed amusement at the shamey comments helped remind me that what they say doesn’t matter. What matters is what I enjoy posting and, more importantly, what the men who use me enjoy doing to me and reading about.

When I finished reading the comments, he had me shaking a little, from both shame and arousal. Laying back, he had me use my mouth on him. I had just started the blowjob when he had an idea. He grabbed a belt. I looked at him, not wanting to be choked while sucking cock. He put the end of the belt through the buckle, holding the loop in the air. “Put your head through,” he instructed. I hesitated and whined, but then he gave me a look. I reluctantly put my head through and he gently pulled my hair out from under the belt before tightening it around my neck.

He pulled me down into his crotch and I wrapped my lips around his cock. At first, he mostly used the belt to choke me, but as he continued using my mouth, he started using it to control me and my movements. I took as much of him as I could, forcing myself down, trying to open my throat. I choked on his cock and started to pull up. He held my head down and told me to “Keep it in, bitch.” I pulled up, but his hand kept me down longer, a beat or two beyond my comfort level. When he let me up, strings of sputum followed me, and I gasped for air. We did this several times until he finally took the belt from around my neck.

“I have an idea,” he said, he stood up. I made to do the same, but he said, “Crawl.” He grabbed a hunk of hair and half-pulled, half-led me to the bathroom on my hands and knees. He sat down on the toilet. “Now I can be as rough as I want.” I hesitated, not wanting the humiliation of sucking his cock over the toilet, but then my head was forced back onto his cock and he roughly fucked my face. He pushed my head down, his cock deeper than it had been before, and I gagged. He didn’t let me up and I threw up a little. When he finally let me up, I said, “I threw up” in a pathetic little voice. “I know,” he responded, not a hint of mercy. He continued using my mouth, and when he was ready to cum, he had me lick his balls while he stroked his cock. He growled out insults and degradation as he came on my face and in my hair, just like a desperate cumslut like me deserves.

He told me to get in the tub, and I knew what was going to happen next. I kneeled, and he stood over over me, cock in hand. I looked down and shut my eyes as he pissed in my hair. The next expected command came. “Open your mouth.” I complied, and tasted the warm, salty liquid hit my tongue and felt it spray over my face. When my mouth was full, I closed it, swallowed, and opened it again without being told. “Did you swallow?” he asked. “Yes, mister,” I answered. I earned a “Good girl” for being such an eager, disgusting little pisswhore.

After we both cleaned up and got dressed, we went to the store for groceries and for an enema I could empty out and replace with water so that he could use my ass. I also bought condoms at the pharmacy and The Super Sadist went outside to smoke, leaving me to buy condoms and an enema. And, of course, the condoms wouldn’t ring up, so I had to stand there, somewhat embarrassed at the obviousness of my purchases. We got Chipotle (yay!) and walked back to his place. As on the way to the store and on the train, we talked about all sorts of things. Obviously, I’m not good for much besides fucking and beating, but I think we both enjoyed the conversations we had. We have similar ideas on a lot of topics and seemed to be able to figure out where the other was coming from pretty easily, which is always nice to find in a partner. When we got back to his place, we relaxed for a little while, and then it was time for the degradation, humiliation, and pain to continue.

2009mriya: