A Note on CBT and Penises as “Weapons”

[Image description: Photo is of a butter knife and a small metal candle holder lying on top of a red cloth napkin.]

Note: This epistle is explicit, with description of some of my sexual interests and activities (also, mention of outdated beliefs about virginity and biology/yucky societal attitudes about sexual violence and what people with vulvas can expect during sex). Get educated by a reputable source like Kink Academy before you participate in the kind of play that I describe in order to avoid injury and other undesired suffering. 

When people compare penises to weapons, it makes me want to do CBT. There are two major kinds of CBT, of course. One is cognitive-behavioral therapy, which is pretty great in general. The other is cock and ball torture, which can be a lovely form of consensual kinky play. During cock and ball torture, the penis and testicles (the cock and balls) are squeezed, bound, hit, kicked, pinched, tickled, shocked, or otherwise treated to painful or intense sensations. The experience of CBT, which should always be consensual, might range from a pleasant low-grade hum of sensation to something acutely painful. My sub finds it intense but rarely painful. I enjoy messing with his junk.  

What does that have to do with penises as weapons? Well, weapons are inert, unfeeling, and potentially dangerous tools (I imagine the cold metal of a blade). But the penis and testicles are living, fleshy, and sensitive (as even the thought of a kick to the balls demonstrates). While I understand the easy comparison between a penis and a weapon–both can, in a way, “penetrate” or “shoot”–I don’t like the way that description fits into a broader societal narrative that casts the penis-owner (usually a cisgender man) as a weapon-carrier. 

Vulva-owners, well…many people assume we’re supposed to hurt and bleed when we “lose our virginity,” as if the act of intercourse punctures us (or “pops our cherries”). That notion, while it would conveniently fit in with the penis-weapon analogy, is not based on what we actually know about the biology of the vulva (Heather Corinna of Scarleteen explains it well in “Seriously, Enough With the Fruit Already”). Treating the penis like a dangerous weapon teaches vulva-owners that intercourse inevitably hurts, and it teaches penis-owners that they should expect to hurt or wound partners during vaginal intercourse (and I don’t mean in a consensual, erotic way). The language of weaponry matters. 

Now, I won’t resolve that broad societal issue through kinky play, but I believe that such play can help willing folks with penises to lay down the weapon idea and see themselves as regular human beings. When I dominate cis guys in play, even if I’m not doing CBT specifically, I want to remind them that they are not weapon-carriers. I want them to know that the penis, like the vulva, is a fleshy organ, capable of feeling great vulnerability and pleasure. Intense touch that focuses on the genitals, like CBT, is one way to bring awareness. 

Mostly, I spank and lightly tug my sub’s balls, listening out for the delightful little whimpers and groans he makes. I like to slap his cock like a bobo doll and watch it spring back into place. Sometimes, I grab his whole package in one hand and just squeeze, letting him know both that I’m in charge of his balls and that he can trust me with them. 

If I received vaginal penetration, maybe I’d squeeze him that way too. I once played sexually with a vulva-owner who had an extraordinarily strong pelvic floor. I double-fisted her–both of my hands were inside her vagina at once, balled up together). I, the penetrator, thought, “Wow, it’s like she could snap my wrists like twigs.” She was powerful. 

With kinky play like CBT, we can gain perspective, and people with penises can remember their vulnerability and capacity for pleasure. Instead of thinking of penises as weapons and vulvas as…things to be wounded…let’s let our junk be our junk, part of our feeling bodies. Let’s study our bodies and try new things. Let’s learn not to weaponize or victimize body parts. And let’s have some fun along the way.

An Epistle on Theatre and Kink

[Image description: Photo is of a slender white person wearing a cream-colored winter coat, dark gray button-down shirt, long, fuzzy white scarf, and fitted dark brown boots standing on the edge of a wooden stage.]

I’ve been a theatre kid since about age ten. Cast as a “merchant/servant” in a summer youth production of Aladdin, I caught the theatre bug (or rather, it caught me). I’d thought when I signed up that I would want to work behind the scenes on set design. Instead, I suddenly craved the spotlight. Eager for more “work,” I made a diagram of the ‘palace’ floor for my personal use and thought intently about my purpose in the story. Frankly, I’m surprised I didn’t study Stanislavsky.  

I milked my one line for all it was worth. “There would be peace in the marketplace if they would just lock him up!,” I snarled and tutted as a merchant in Act I, later transforming into a meek and gormless palace servant for Act II. It felt glorious to get a larger role in the next summer production, but even in that first, tiny role, I had carved out a space in fantasy that made me feel integral to making Aladdin’s story ‘work.’ 

Unlike me, the characters I played knew exactly where they belonged in the world, and they lived in that satisfaction. I, their storyteller, lived in their satisfaction second-hand. I started to find a role in the local theatre community too, clicking with fellow actors in ways that I never had with my classmates. I felt a sense of belonging in being among creative people working toward a common goal. No longer just the shy art girl, I was an actor–and I could be anything I chose. 

Over the years, I acted in several other shows and attempted tech work. I discovered that I was funny. I also discovered (during an Edgar Allan Poe-themed production) that I could be very creepy and unsettling when I wanted to be. 

The final curtain was always bittersweet. I wanted the magic to last just a little bit longer. I remember keeping the heavy makeup on as long as possible (yes, even the Poe makeup–I’m sure I frightened some locals during that cast party). Acting became about more than attention; acting was a retreat. It helped me feel safe to try new things, even silly and embarrassing things. It demanded that I be embarrassed, proud, menacing, hapless, and fierce, over and over. Theatre gave me space to be all those things without losing my place in the community.

Now, every character that I have ever played lives in my mind, but I am more than the sum of them. And that mysterious extra bit that’s just me? That’s what I bring to my kink life. It doesn’t surprise me that many kinksters are also theatre people. The craft, the thrill, the freedom to “play pretend” and explore without losing the respect of peers–kink makes room for all these precious things. Kink gives me experiences that even theatre couldn’t. But I wouldn’t be comfortable in kink if not for my time with theatre, and theatre is special to me too. 

It’s been a couple of years since I was last in a production; my current schedule just doesn’t allow for the weeks of consistent commitment that theatre requires. I miss it. I take what I learned from acting into my activism, my kinky relationships, my friendships, and my work. These things all belong in my life. And when I have time for a show? I’m auditioning.