This story is an “as told to” and anonymous. The mom in this story is a mother of one, in her early 40s, living in the South.
I consider myself a strong woman. I’m independent, I’m outspoken, I like to be in charge. I would definitely classify myself as a feminist.
I also really, really like it when my husband chokes me during sex.
As in, hand on my throat, my back against the mattress, and me — a woman who has literally marched for women’s bodily autonomy more than once — absolutely losing my f*cking mind over it. Sometimes there’s biting. Or spanking. Hard. And even though I hate it when he tells me what to do in any other situation, I get incredibly turned on when he uses his “you’ll do as you’re told” voice in the bedroom.
There are times I can’t even climax until he does something to dominate me. I come right as he wraps his hand around my throat or pulls my hair.
In the moment, I don’t think twice about any of this because this might actually be the best sex of my life. Definitely better than my 20s. But after some time has passed, a little voice always creeps into my head, wondering what this says about me.
I’ve fought really hard in my life to be taken seriously. I have fought to be heard, and I have absolutely fought not to be pushed around by men. So why does the thing that completely undoes me in bed have to be handing over every bit of that control to a man?
I like to remind myself that having bodily autonomy means deciding what I want to do and to have done to my body, so even being dominated is a form of empowerment. Because I’m choosing it.
But the question keeps nagging at me. Maybe I feel weird about it because it seems so at odds with my self-image? I guess what I really worry about is that my liking and wanting rough sex is some sort of internalized misogyny.
It’s not, though… right? Like, if I really think about it, the sex I’m having now is more catered to my desires and needs and arousal than ever before. We have rules and a safe word. My husband always slows down or stops to check on me if he’s worried things got a little too rough. Everything about me being dominated lives and dies by my consent.
And, also worth pointing out, my pleasure.
When I was younger, I never spoke up about what I wanted. I can count on one hand the number of times I had an orgasm during sex, because I basically just let my partners do whatever they wanted to do.
I’ve also noticed that I typically want this kind of sex the most when I’m tired of being in control. When I’ve had a shitty week at work and my kid has been a lot at home and I just don’t want to make one more decision, it just does something for me for him to take charge.
The other thing I remind myself is that my body is unaware of anything other than what it wants. It just responds to what feels good.
I’ll probably always have some mental hangups about this, and I’m not sure I’m ready to sign myself up for the type of therapy that involves talking to a stranger about it.
I do know that none of this would work if I didn’t trust my husband. I have a marriage where I can ask for exactly what I want, and not only does he try his best to give it to me, but he doesn’t shame me for it (I guess I have myself for that). And I know that I have a body that might look different from it did 20 years ago, but it knows what it likes way more now than it did back then.
If that makes me a bad feminist, I guess it is what it is. They say women contain multitudes… and some of mine just like to be spanked.
