As a woman, you would never accept your guy hitting you, would you?
Except if it happens exactly when you want it, exactly where you want it and exactly as you want it. Which in my case is hard, but without any violence. On the cheeks, but not on the face. When I am on top, but only in particular circumstances, ie when I feel like it.
Sexual code of conduct for males is so complicated!
Xander is a very straightforward guy when it comes to his needs and wishes. He never beats around the bush. And, as a gentleman, he always asks. Before and after doing anything new or more extreme.
-“Are you sure I didn’t hurt you too much? I got carried away.”
Which doesn’t mean he wasn’t shocked when he saw the bruises the day after. It was one of our first sexual encounters.
-“Sorry b.b.” he texted me from work.
-“B.b.?”, I raised an eyebrow.
-“Yes. Stands for blue butt”, he replied apologetically.
Hitting/ slapping/ pinching and other forms of inflicting pleasurable pain has never been a taboo between us. I have discovered over time and by trial and error what my limits are. I don’t have any objections on principle. I just don’t like everything.
Interestingly enough what has been more challenging for me was to inflict pain myself.
-“Hit me”, he’d ask me regularly. “I want you to hurt me.”
I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I am not used to physical violence, not after fifth grade at least.
-” But I want you to! And you like it when I do it to you!”
I just couldn’t.
Years later, at a swingers club hidden somewhere outside Warsaw, when Xander had long stopped asking, it came to me. Quite naturally. A tentative slap at first. Then another. And then I got wilder and wilder. Felt the thrill of it. Got carried away.
He took my hands in a tender but firm grip.
-“Baby, there are people watching us. I don’t feel comfortable. I like it, but don’t feel comfortable.”
It was comforting to know there are things he is not comfortable with.