20 September 2012

The Gentle Sadist (and his sidekick, Aspergirl!)

Spiderman, Spiderman. Does whatever a spider can... and then has a threesome with Mary Jane and the Black Cat for good measure.

Wait, what?

So first things first, let’s get something out of the way. I love me some animated porn. Maybe it’s the way it allows me to visually explore boundaries that are impossible with real people or that would make me uncomfortable in traditional porn. Maybe it’s because of the little girl side of me, and it is a way to get my kink on alongside my Saturday morning cartoons. And maybe it is just that knowing there’s a market for this material makes me feel less weird that my first real sexual crushes were on an anthropomorphic fox (Oooh de lally!) and a living gargoyle, respectively.

Whatever the reason, the first image I clearly remember masturbating to on the internet was one of Spiderman fucking Mary Jane while the Black Cat (one very hot Felicia Hardy) sat on her face. (Seriously Spiderman, how did you not know that was Felicia Hardy? How does that mask in any way hide her identity?) I grew up on superheroes, so maybe this isn’t surprising. I also became interested in porn in a time where the internet was certainly available, but the speed of dial-up made anything in video form prohibitively slow. For some reason, while still photographs of actual humans do almost nothing for me, drawings of my favourite cartoon characters in the heat of often poorly-rendered passion gets my imagination running.

My long-standing fantasy as a teen (and one that I still occasionally go to today, I’m only somewhat embarrassed to admit) involved the cast of Disney’s TV show Gargoyles taking me away to their castle and having their wicked gang-rapey way with me. Actually, since the gargoyles were heroes and not villains, it was more like they had their very polite and somewhat apologetic gang-rapey way with me. Like Canadian gargoyles, I guess.

This leads me to my other reason for loving hentai, as well as a reason why I often feel out of place in the kinky world. In my mind, cartoons are more malleable. I can imagine them any way I want, probably because they were absorbed into my brain at a time when my imagination was still the most exciting thing out there. I can’t do this with real people, especially not people in porn. I want something very specific: I want to be hurt and used and abused by somebody who loves me. I want to have a violently healthy sexual relationship. And I want this, by and large, to come across in a scene. I get off on humiliation, I get off on certain kinds of pain, I get off on certain acts being forced on me, but only in the context of doing them with someone who I know is doing it out of love and tenderness.

I fantasize about cartoons and fictional characters because I can make them do my bidding. I used to have several long-standing fantasies about being raped by an extremely apologetic extra-terrestrial who kept explaining that he didn’t mean to hurt me but was being forced to act by cultural standards that required forcible sexual contact with an earthling or he would be faced with exile (from what, Jupiter?) Despite the fact that I am one of those people who will skip over any attempt at conversation in real-person pornography, I have to invent elaborate reasons to get to the actual sexing in my imagination (and I am often just as sexually awkward in my fantasies as I am in real life). And I would gladly have watched videos of my type of fantasy, but there is not a huge market out there for kindly rape porn, unfortunately.

I strongly suspect that this was a way of alleviating some of the guilt I have frequently felt about being someone who has experienced the ugliness of real sexual assault and who still gets wet at the thought of being restrained and forcibly fucked. In addition, making it a forced act took away the guilt I felt for being a young woman with a sexual appetite, an aspect of Catholicism I’m not quite sure I’ll ever shake. Finally, it was a way of helping take physical decision-making out of my awkward neurologically a-typical Aspie hands. I didn't want a mean sadist, because mean people make me cry; I just wanted the desires not to be my fault, and to have guidance when I inevitably got totally lost. I needed a gentle sadistic partner, and I could best imagine him in the comforting form of my childhood heroes. 

However... the majority of my cartoon fantasies have been set aside. I draw upon them infrequently these days, because I’ve found a person who goes out of his way to help me live them out every weekend. For the first time in my life, reality is better than my imagination could have managed. Daddy/little girl play and puppy play with Sheldon fulfill these needs and fill me up with so much happiness and contentment that I have started to feel comfortable exploring them with more people, even exploring new fantasies that don't rely on that format. He helps me understand that there's nothing wrong with wanting sex, or being shy and awkward about touching people. He helps me grow and learn and become a more richly complex sexual person.

I'm still going to hang on to that Spiderman picture, though.

With great love,

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