A useful tool.

One of the many ways that I can frame sex is that of being useful. I love the feeling of being useful to someone, of getting commands that I'm capable of and carrying them out. I don't think this is entirely a kinky thing either; I think it's more about regular fulfillment. It makes me really happy to be told "go to the store and get 2% milk and a loaf of bread" and to carry out that command obediently and correctly. I love the feeling of being a useful tool, a good doggie, of having earned a pat on the head.

...Okay, maybe it's a little bit of a kinky thing.

And sometimes, during sex, I want to be used just the same way. I know I'd get frustrated if it happened every time, but sometimes I like it when a guy just uses my body to get off. There are times that I've had sex and not even come (well, okay, I can count that on one hand) and I've loved it, because it wasn't about me coming, it was about him getting his pleasure and I was just there to help.

This is one of the areas where I have to draw a huge bold poorly-justified line between my kink and my feminism. Part of me should rankle at being told "wash the dishes and then get back in here and give me a blowjob," but the other part of me--the part that has sole custody of my vagina--is grinning and grabbing a sponge. I'm unsure whether I could sustain an entire relationship like this, because there are moments when I also want to be treated like a special little princess, but I like having the useful-tool aspect in a relationship at least.

I've admitted before that when I was a teenager, I used to fuck Kevin, then get out of bed and sleep on the floor because he didn't like sharing a single bed. What I'm sure I didn't admit is that I kinda liked it. Again, I think an entire relationship of floor-sleeping is fucked up (also, my back isn't fifteen anymore) but... I kinda liked it.

I'm no longer sure where I can draw the line and say "I want to do this, but not for real." Because I'll really wash your real dishes, and there isn't some secret getback where you wash mine. And more importantly, the intention really is that I'm not an equal, that I can be used for a man's convenience. I guess the only thing that makes it "not real" is when we both understand that we're ultimately doing this because I dig on it, not because it's the way of the world. If we understand that I'm being a kinky submissive, not just being a woman, I think we don't have to turn in our Feminist Cards.


Sometimes I want a boy to use my hair as a convenient blowjob handle because of the way it'll make my head feel, and sometimes I want it because of the way it'll make his dick feel. And sometimes, really, I don't even know the difference.