I had a shoot with SexuallyBroken.com yesterday that was cut short. (I was just off my game that day for some reason. They treated me with a level of professionalism and respect that I wish was more common in the adult industry and I’m anxiously looking forward to finishing the shoot with them. Matt Williams is he kind of dom you hope for and their talent manager and other staff displayed a humanitarian concern that was moving and helpful.) During the initial interview, Matt Williams, the director and my co-star, asked a lot of his questions that were difficult to answer on the spot because they were things that I was not sure that I could say on camera. For example, when he asked how old I was when I began engaging in BDSM, the truth is that I was in elementary school. However, I can’t say that on camera, so I vaguely answered, “Before I was legal.”
Then he asked, “What do you like during sex?”
“I like to be bound. I like to feel like I don’t have a choice… I like… I’m not allowed to use the R word, am I?”
Matt’s brow knitted. “The R word?”
A camera girl to his left, quietly but anxiously, said no.
Matt was still confused. “What’s the R word?”
The camera girl, again low and quick, answered, “Rape.”
“Oh, god! No, you can’t say that!”
I gave a sheepish smile and continued, “Well, I like to be held down and having the guy–sometimes a woman, but usually a guy–say, over and over, ‘I’m going to R you. I am R-ing you.’”
We finished the interview and got on with the shoot, which, again, was unfortunately but with professionalism and caring, cut short.
After I got home I spent some time with my children, then dropped them off with their father. I got home and cleaned most of the apartment and took a bath and put on a cute satin teddy from Secrets in Lace and a pink satin robe. I put on some turquoise earrings, my boyfriend’s birthstone, and started to clean my room.
The doorbell rang. This was a little odd, because my boyfriend has a key and usually just lets himself in. I went to the door and it was him. He had just gotten off work, but had changed into jeans, a white t-shirt, and a black jacket. He had a bulging backpack over his shoulder, which I assumed held his clothes.
I let him in and we stood in the doorway kissing for a while, whispering to each other.
“Did my baby girl miss me?”
“Yes, Daddy. Please touch me.”
“I love you.”
“Are you hungry? I could make something.”
“Let’s go to the bedroom.”
We walked to my room. He was behind me and usually when he is, he’s caressing me and stroking me, but this time he wasn’t. We got to my room and I got up on the bed. When I turned around, his backpack and jacket were off and he was holding a fistful of rope and, well, this:
It’s a custom “slap bracelet” that my boyfriend had made ages ago. The idea is that, if he can get it on me, I have to do whatever I’m told. It’s a way of “activating” me. I had it in my jewelry armoire and had told him where it was, but didn’t know that he had actually gone in and found it. For all I know, he took it out ages ago.
He held the bracelet in his fingertips and swung it from side to side. I got into a defensive position. He lunged.
From there we played for maybe three hours. We wrestled. He bound me, I escaped. He entered me while the bracelet was on, then took it off to watch me struggle. He put it on my ankles and wrists–wherever it would go. Once, when he was moving me, it came off and I almost got away. I held it in my hand and refused to let go, even when he twisted my arms and dug his fingers into my pressure points. We got so sweaty that twice we had to take breaks to go shower. (Sex is my favorite workout!)
At one point, the bracelet was off and he was trying to get it on me, but I was blocking him successfully. Instead of being confrontational, I began to plead with him. “Kiss me. Please kiss me so that I can kiss you back.” I wrapped my legs around his waist and pulled him close. “Not like this. Make love to me. Please. Don’t you want to hold me?” I let my voice shake and tried to looks as, well, pitiful as possible. I thought he was going to crack. He was still struggling to get the bracelet on me, but not as hard. He was avoiding meeting my gaze and swallowed hard, as if he was restraining himself. But he didn’t crack–and he eventually got the bracelet back on.
After that, I bound his wrists and gagged him, got him in some holds and punched him in the back good and hard. I really like to watch men struggle while in bondage and punching can feel very satisfying.
However, he managed to turn the tables. I had bound his wrists in front of him because I was showing him how to do a certain tie. Big mistake. He got his arms around me so that he was hugging my neck. He pushed his mouth to mine and kissed me hard. I tried to bite him, but he just kissed me harder until I was overwhelmed.
Then he growled in my ear, “Take my cock out.”
I refused, but he squeezed my neck until I did. I reached down and drew his hard cock out of his boxers. He immediately plunged it into me. I moaned and tried to buck, but his weight was holding me down. As he took me, he told me how this was inevitable, how he would always win, how much stronger he was. He fucked me until I came, then we lay in each others’ arms until he wanted me again, then he fucked me until we came together as I screamed, “This is what I want from you; give me your cum.”
Those three hours were some of the best sex I’ve ever had and they were very R word role play heavy.
I don’t understand why the R word can’t be used in porn. Rape ROLE PLAY is about being FREE. Actual rape is the hard opposite of that. If a porn company uses pre- and post-shoot interviews and negotiates with models and has a policy of stopping shoots that go wrong, I see no reason why this common female fantasy can’t be indulged.
I have been sexually assaulted three times. Once when I was thirteen, and twice by my ex-husband when I was twenty-six. I will not go into details because they were all pretty horrible instances that undermined my belief in the justice system to the point that I think cops should be abolished. The only help I got was from other adult industry people and if, god forbid, something should ever happen to me or someone I know again, I will not waste time going to the cops. I don’t believe in vigilante justice, but I do believe in outing rapists and doxxing. I just wanted to make my stance on that clear. I also want to make it clear that my interested in rape role play survived my assaults and did not result from them. And, as an interesting point, I have absolutely no fantasies about street harassment/catcalling. That’s just annoying and makes the perpetrator seem weak and kinda stupid.
So while I’m not about to fight for my “right” to use the R word in porn, it’s only because I think there are many things that are more important. Like, probably literally everything. Like, finding that Lego block I lost yesterday is more important. I just wanted to share a little about what I like, in case you were wondering. I also imagine that my average reader is a male who has not experienced sexual assault, but knows and loves women who have. I know it was hard for Manny and me to start having sex again after the last and most violent instance of assault that my ex-husband committed, but we got through it and now enjoy a happy role play life again.