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Note: This epistle is explicit, with description of some of my sexual interests and activities (also, mention of outdated beliefs about virginity and biology/yucky societal attitudes about sexual violence and what people with vulvas can expect during sex).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.

Be Whoever You Are – An Epistle on Feelings

[Image description: Photo is of a glorious sunset silhouetting trees, buildings, and light poles.]

Note: This post deals with some difficult feelings and anxieties related to sexual orientation. If it hits you hard, remember the Resources page! 

Greetings, Beloved!

After yesterday’s bear of a post, I thought I’d make today’s a short one, inspired by a recent conversation with a friend about sexual attraction and identity. My friend shared that they felt some anxiety about how to define their sexuality (essentially because their feelings don’t appear to fit neatly into a particular box). It reminded me of a worry that I used to have that sometimes crops back up (thanks, brain). 

In college, I experienced a lot of anxiety about whether the sexual orientation label I used matched what I thought I should be feeling (it didn’t help that I was very aware of the social and political consequences of identifying as queer and bisexual). At the end of my first romantic relationship, an ill-timed long-distance relationship with another woman, I worried that I had deceived myself into thinking that I was attracted to women at all. I read every resource I could find, trying to make sense of my experience. Internally, I cycled through a host of possible labels, even flirting with the idea of asexuality before eventually concluding that ‘bisexual’ still suited me. 

I struggled that year with a cocktail of hard thoughts and feelings: guilt and shame about my apparent inability to just get over the relationship, worries that I would never love again, and the nagging fear that I could be lying to myself about this whole thing. I thought that I couldn’t enter a sexual relationship without harming my partner(s) because my feelings seemed all wrong. Can you tell I was a perfectionist? Seriously, bless my heart!

Perfectionism can turn feelings (in themselves neutral) into reasons for self-judgment and shame. In hindsight, I was so busy measuring and judging my feelings that I couldn’t fully live my beautiful queer life. I had to get help. Fortunately, my college had a free counseling center.  

Through therapy, the support of great friends, some true tea from Brené Brown, and the healing influence of time, I gradually began to make peace with the fact that feelings are weird and finicky–including those related to sexuality and attraction–because people are weird and finicky. 

Here’s some informal advice that I gave my friend about attraction:

  • Attraction Is fluid and complicated.
  • It may change and expand…but you can’t force it to change.
  • You get to choose how you identify. 
  • You don’t have to force yourself into any label or situation that you don’t feel right about. 

So, feelings don’t come from nowhere, and it can be worthwhile to reflect on “why,” but at the end of the day, you feel what you feel. Your feelings might not be what you expected. They might not fit the mold. They might change. That’s all fine. What you choose to do with them is a more complicated matter, but whatever your feelings are, they’re okay. Let’s start with that. 🙂 Music for your consideration: “Be Wherever You Are” by Rebecca Sugar