Anything goes, Unfinished book on Consent Play | “1994” episode 6

In October 1994 I wrote my experience with consent play, in a notebook.
With the intention of publishing it one day.
I never finished it, as explained in the previous episode.

This is what I wrote about my consent play and my affair with relationship with Bear.

contains erotic elements
NSFW, not suitable for work
triggering

Monday 21- Tuesday October 22 1994
0.40

I don’t know how many words will go into this journal before it’s full. How many pages before this ballpoint is empty. How many stories I need to tell before I have said what I ve come here to say. But I do know the limited resources will work in my advantage.
On top of the boundaries set by the material, there is the slowness of it.
The thoughts that just drip onto the paper word for word.
A little pause at the end of every sentence.
And I ve set myself a time limit.
Not because I m in a hurry finishing or publishing it. But because I believe this unspoken confession is what is blocking the pathway to what it is I desire.
Or who.
All of them. The men.
But above all else: Not writing this out is blocking my way to becoming the person I would be in their presence.
The lover who calls herself, yes, what?
What is it, this unnamed role? Both “girlfriend” and “submissive” are equally misplaced. Neither one is what I want to be and at heart already am.
Just without words so far.
How do you name a woman who desires to be in a constant game for her consent?
Not just in the obvious, the play rape.
I did think that for a while.
That the most defining characteristic of my sexual preference was to be dominated during sex.
But now I know this consent is always played for, and withheld unless I feel I have his full attention.
And then we play.
Then I surrender.
Then he can dominate me.
But that my desire for power play is weaved into the bigger picture of two lovers only seeing each other for sex.
Or for a date of some sort
My sexual preference cannot “just” be defined as power play or rough sex, because that would imply that you could be married and have this type of sex at night and then discuss whose turn it is to stock the fridge.
That is not how consent play works- let’s call it that for now.
Consent play would ask: What fridge?
What tomorrow?
There is only the now.
It is like a perpetual tango. A game of attraction, where you hope you ll dance again.
There are multiple men I would like to tango with. But currently I m dating none of them.
I don’t have to answer to anyone right now. I m alone with my thoughts and with my desires. Between what was and what can become, who I can become.
And when I do the right man will come.
Plural, maybe.

Tuesday 22- Wednesday October 23 1994
Create the Truth
0.05

I tick off the things I want to do each day.
Cuddle enough with both cats.
Masturbate.
Yoga.
Some things are harder than others.
Writing in this journal is also on there and it’s one of the things I don’t want to skip. Not even if it’s after midnight before I start.
The reason I want to do this is because this activity is called “create the truth”. I know that by writing I want a dominant lover, I will create him.

I need to feel like I am the perfect match and then next to me, like magic, a vacuum will be created that will draw the right man and only the right man, in.
This man will automatically, when we make love, force me down, pin me down, restrict me, push me, command me, open me, enter me, hurt me, fill me, and it will be under that weight that I lean in and let go.
And that I am home.

Wednesday 23 – Thursday 24 October 1994
0.15

On days like this it’s so good to have this diary to come back to.
I didn’t do yoga, didn’t see friends or a movie. The only thing I did, which was good for my sexuality (or maybe it’s more a prerequisite than an aphrodisiac) is deep cleanse my house.
I feel thrilled by this.
I intend to do yoga AM! The PM thing is not working for me. I hope that a sexy yoga session every morning will keep my spirits up for the rest of the day.
That I ll keep identifying with my sexual ambitions, of who I need to be.
Right now I keep forgetting it until suddenly I remember after midnight, when I pick up this journal.
I need to start doing a hell of a lot more to straighten this out, than writing this book.

Wednesday October 30 1994
A League of their own
09.30

First day working from home, and immediately I take this journal and go to the cafe instead of spending the day behind my desk.
Don’t worry.
I ll make it up.
It’s just that I ve been in such a dark place that I m thrilled my desire to journal has returned.
The story has returned.
And it’s not the story I thought it was.
Maybe they were related: The story of consent play and my meltdown.
Consent play is a lot more complex than just a variation to SM.

And I am a lot more complex than just a college grad stuck in her first job.
I might have needed the meltdown in order to do justice to the story, as well as to myself.

Over the past week I ve discovered a really big chunk in my identity that didn’t seem to have a purpose.
Except as a place of strength.
Yesterday I was talking about this part to a friend and she said:
“Oh my God, you’re sitting just like her.”
She was referring to Catherine Tramell, Basic Instinct. A movie I ve seen more than any other.
Just this summer they played it at the discount theater and I added 4 to the list.
And I m thinking of getting a VHS.
What I mean with my identification with her being this big piece of a puzzle or chunk of my identity that I didn’t know where to put is well… literally that!
Where do I behave or feel like Catherine Tramell, if I m submissive in bed?
If I make myself as grey as possible at work? Not that I ve been very successful at that and I m glad I can start working from home but nevertheless.
I didn’t recognize myself.
I think cutting my personality in half was the biggest cause of me having suicidal thoughts over the weekend.
Not as an act of despair but as a happy thought. A comforting one. One I d rather thought of than how I was going to solve this.
But the signs that life was slipping though my fingers, had been earlier.
In no longer masturbating. No longer writing.
Cancelling appointments.
Quit eating sugar, which was the first moment death entered my thoughts. I wanted to lose weight because I wanted to bring my body back to its pre-college thinness before I died.
And there it was there: The thought of suicide.
I felt dead on the inside already and felt it needed to stay that way not to disturb the others around me. The only one who didn’t require me to be half-dead already, was Bear.
I have not heard from him in weeks, if not months. But I ran into him and he invited me over or suggested we should see each other soon.
But I rejected.
If he doesn’t want to see me, I don’t want him to feel pressured to invite me. I really believe he has someone else right now.
And the idea that we would meet up at my all-time low was out of the question.
On my way home I kept wondering why I had been so determined to reject him helping me. He had literally offered: “Maybe it helps to talk.”

Yet I knew that the moment I accepted this, it would not only ruin what we had-
but that it was also dangerous. Because I would become dependent on him.
I would be meeting him from a place of needing him when I want him to want me, not to pity me.
And suddenly I snapped out of it.
I saw why I felt suicidal, why I was so happy with my love life and could even bare the thought of him having someone else.
And where that giant chunk went!
I saw why I had seen Basic Instinct so many times, and why I should be buying a VHS.
And most importantly: I saw why my submission during sex was rooted in strength.
My relationship with Bear has been the only place, in all those years, where I have been able to show myself as a badass Catherine Tramell.
He never blinked.
Not when I asked him to become my lover and deflower me.
Not when I asked for anal sex.
Not when I asked for play rape.
Playing doctor.
Applaud him for staying sexually active with other women.
Watch him with great love, appreciation and understanding as others around him crashed into his stubbornness.
I saw that we had something that we couldn’t have with others because they needed it to have rules, form, agreement.
When we had none of those things.
We had a deep understanding and appreciation of each other’s strength and independence.
We saw each other as solitary beings.
Not as half of a couple in need of amalgamation.
My relationship with Bear had been my Catherine Tramell Sanctuary.
And the reason I had been starving myself, denying myself, creatively cutting myself off and ultimately the reason why I wanted to kill myself:
Because in all other aspects of my life I had not been Catherine Tramell.

Sunday November 17, 1994
Epilogue

I just typed out these notes on consent play, and I was right.
This really was, and is, all I can say about it.
Sometimes I think my depression and the current trouble we are going through are the effects of leaving university, and both of us trying to find our place in this world.
I m convinced we’ll stay in touch, over the course of our lives.
But right now I need to start implementing what I learned about who I want to be.
It’s almost 5 years ago that we started our affair. We were both still in high school when we met.
I have become an adult and stepped into my power, but only in my relationship with him. So therefor it was very limited.
You could say I m only half adult.
Or a part-time adult.
The rest of the time my own power scares me. Or the response I get from people is starting to scare me. Now more than ever, it seems.
My studies were filled with male friends, but at the publisher’s it’s mostly women.
I have definitely not been coping well with that. And I avoid their company, mostly.
With Bear out of sight, the only place where I ve felt good in my own skin, disappeared. No wonder I feel I m losing my strength.
Growing up is like shedding skin, isn’t it?
You can’t enjoy your new identity, if you keep paying attention to everything that has fallen off.
My old life, my student life, is over.
And maybe my relationship with the boy who grew into a man, at my side, is over too. Maybe our affair is part of the dead skin.
But maybe it’s part of the strong, vibrant beings that we became. And maybe we’ll always keep reinventing ourselves, together.
It reminds me of the final scene of Basic Instinct.
Nick and Catherine just had sex, and Catherine is unsure how they’re going to have a normal relationship. She seems terrified and confused, but you can’t see if she’s having relationship skitters because she’s so used to killing the people she loves. Or if she’s scared because everybody she loves ends up being killed.
After playing a game with the viewer, where you think she’s going to kill him, the movie seems to end in a passionate kiss, indicating she was never the killer.
After a fade out, Nick and Catherine come into focus once more but this time the camera moves under the bed, where you see an ice pick. Indicating she did intend to kill him, and she’s the killer after all.
I always thought that last shot was cheap and I didn’t buy it.
Not even the first time I saw it.
I didn’t buy it that Nick and Catherine would not stay together, since they were a match made in heaven. No one was playing at their level, and they both had enough experience to know that no one ever would.
Things like that don’t end.

~Lauren
An unexamined life is not worth living

Subscribe to this blog (subscription button somewhere on this page – most likely on the right) for the next episode of 1994.
You can read episode 1 to 5 here:
A letter from a stranger | “1994” fanfic inspired erotica episode 1 
Mutuals | “1994”: fanfic inspired erotica episode 2 
Think about you | “1994”: fanfic inspired story episode 3
Out ta get me | “1994”: fanfic inspired story episode 4
Rocket Queen |”1994″: fanfic inspired story episode 5  

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Anything goes, Unfinished book on Consent Play | “1994” episode 6
is the fourth chapter of
7-figure Rock Star Writer part 6: “1994”: Consent play

My diaries en erotica are available at 

my BOOK SHOP
25% discount on all prices
If you check your cart, you can select your store
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Nederlandse boeken kun je ook direct bij mij bestellen

coming soon: new books

1. Reboot – a hero’s journey. Diary 2017-2019
2. I M NOT CHANGING MY FUCKING SHOW
3. Big Mistress – confessions, columns and sex advice from the other woman
4. Blote Kont- verhalen over mannen, macht en dagjes uit (Dutch)

The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready is to follow this blog. The subscription button to this blog is on this page, probably on the right.

Back to Basics

This is a letter to my creativity coach Sara( Sara’s Fb page)
Before our coaching call, I always give her a headsup.

Dear Sara,

Have I ever started a letter with:
“Dear Sara, I fucked up?”
Because if I haven’t, then I would like to open with that now.
And it’s not because I was “on the wrong track” or anything like it. More that the right track brought things I did not expect and wasn’t ready for.
But good news first!
My hunch to FULLY go with the Basic Instinct/ Catherine Tramell vibe of things, was right and is very fulfilling. I know I m on the right path/ was on the right path during our last call when you exclaimed:
“You’re sitting just like her! You see?”
Fully leaning back, arms dangling loosely on the sides. I see it, Sara!
I ve been sitting like that a lot.
And I ve extracted my notes on consent play from a notebook I had been keeping, with the intention of writing (manually) a book. But I m going to type my consent play notes out, and put a new perspective on it.
Write a new ending, or perhaps a new introductory chapter.
Where I conclude that I can’t write a book on consent play, because that is not what I have with my lover. Or had maybe, because I haven’t seen him in months.
What we have is so special, not so much because of the power play or consent play during sex;
It is in the complexity of our play when we’re not in bed.
Exactly the way the relationship between former-undercover-agent-turned-detective Nick Curran (Michael Douglas) and million dollar writer with a double major in psychology and English lit, Catherine Tramell (Sharon Stone), is way more about how they interact outside of bed, than about the way they behave between the sheets.
And there’s so much nuance to their performance. So much complexity.
The major mind-fuck of Basic Instinct (1992) is that there are two coexisting story lines, both with a different killer. Like the drawing of the young girl and the old woman: They’re both there.
One doesn’t exclude the other.
Yet the director Paul Verhoeven insists the movie ultimately portrays Catherine as the killer. That for him it is totally clear who did it.
And all the critics echoed his perspective, without further investigating it, but 27 years later I rewatched this movie a couple of times and I see three things.
1. God, Michael Douglas is hot.
Every time he has seen Catherine, he walks taller, he’s totally self-assured and absolutely irresistible. And he plays his cards with her well, too.
He likes talking with her, because she plays him at his level.
But it’s especially his tooth pick chewing smirk, after he has spent the night at her place and now meets his friend Gus again, that is absolutely golden.
“You fucked her!” Gus exclaims. “Goddamn dumb sonofabitch… You fucked her! Goddamn, you are one dumb sonofabitch –”
Well, he’s not of course.
A dumb son of a bitch I mean.
He’s very smart to have recognized that she’s the only one who can give him the thrill he had working undercover, combined with being the fuck of the century.
As is his explicit appreciation of their encounter.
Which brings me to Catherine.
The second thing I saw this time around:
2. Catherine’s so kind and sweet
Go watch that movie in 2019 and tell me you’re not taken by her sassy remarks, her broad honest smile and her intense sorrow when her best friend is killed.
Sure, she’s ruthless with the five cops who try to interrogate her. She makes them uncomfortable to the bone. But she does it by lighting a cigarette, not wearing underwear, and correcting them when they ask her why she needs a white scarf to tie people up, if she liked men to use their hands.
Catherine: “That’s not what I said.”
cop: “No?”
Catherine: “No. I said I liked Johnny, to use his hands.”
She outsmarts all of them. Which brings me to the last thing I saw.
3. She’s too smart to be the killer
Paul Verhoeven said she did it. All the critics said she did it. Every page or blog dedicated to Basic Instinct will say she did it. But she didn’t do it.
It wouldn’t make sense.
Why would someone who likes to play games, and likes to manipulate people, get her hands dirty with something as blunt and ugly as killing people when they’re harmless?
There is no fun.
And I think this interpretation of Basic Instinct is made possible because Sharon Stone herself, gave the role its intellectual baggage. Back in the 90s, she was the first one I heard of, who came out as highly intelligent and a member of Mensa.
I think what happened is that although she stuck to the script, you could feel the depth and intelligence of her. The intelligence of Catherine Tramell became so real, that although the script had intended her to be the killer:
It doesn’t make any sense anymore.
In a way, they hired an actress that was too smart for their own good. To this day Paul Verhoeven and everybody else might say she did it.
When I tell you: Every Mensa member will see that movie, and know that she didn’t.
And if only, IF ONLY, I had spent two weeks doing nothing else than analyzing Basic Instinct: But I didn’t.
I went on a different path as well.
And I will like “management-summary” you through it, although that’s technically not a verb, but here’s what happened:
I am still convinced that my meltdown, and current problems are related to what others would call, and what “science” calls:
Autism.
This means that I have no interest in an entire layer of communication, which the majority of the world’s population requires in order to be able to interact with you, and that I wear a mask interacting with them. A mask which I switch, depending on who I have in front of me.
Now I had already determined that agreeable, cooperative Lauren, would be replaced by the Catherine Tramell mask, for one-offs, and all short and medium sized interactions with the exclusion of friends and family and people I wanted to be nice to.
Not just to save me the energy of bending over backwards, but also because my ice queen mask was a much better representation of what people tend to feel in my presence.
A white coat and platinum blond hair, would be a better mirror of the discomfort they felt, than my “normal person” mask.
In an ideal world I would go for koala imitations and third person Elmo language, but I think this would be even more confusing. And only fellow “autistics” would be able to appreciate having communication take place on a whole different plane of reality.
So Catherine Tramell would just have to do.
But this fine tuning on my masking strategies, wasn’t going to solve my problems with regard to not being able to work, and my suicidal thoughts and possible other mental health issues.
And in my search for answers, I was sucked deeper into the diagnoses. Every day there was a deeper understanding, that I qualify, perhaps even over-qualify, on the criteria for autism as they have been defined in the latest DSM in 2011. Before that, I would have Asperger’s. Which in common tongue no longer qualified as a psychiatric condition, but as pleasantly mad and interesting.
For 25 years Asperger’s had a special position within the realm of mental disorders, and so did the patients who had it.
But ever since Asperger’s has been dropped, and only autism remains, everybody newly diagnosed should say (correctly): “I am autistic” or “I have autism”. Not “I have Asperger’s”
Now it’s not that I have a problem with calling myself autistic. But the trouble is: Others do.
The stigma surrounding autism is so heavy that the mental burden that comes with it, is for me, a sensitive undiagnosed Aspie, who knows she’s an Aspie because she loves to go out and have fun with other Aspies, is just too much.
Especially after two years on an erratic slope downhill.
I wrote an indepth piece on the matter, it’s like my “meta” as we geeks call such a thing, on the entire history of Asperger’s from the 30s to current day.
And my declaration of why I can’t keep going on.
Why I have no choice but to cut myself out of the autistic loop.
If you want to read it:
Goodbye to autism. Plus a new way to greet each other.
Now what I did not say there was what I am going to do to get better. And to get the best help. And Hans Asperger the discoverer of Asperger would have approved because 50 years after his research on autism which included feisty little boys who constantly challenged him, and whom he called Little Professors;
Asperger confessed he made a mistake.
That these boys didn’t have autism, they were highly gifted.
EXACTLY where I am going to start.
How do I move from here if I am highly gifted?
I had a conversation with an amazing researcher and therapist, whose singular mission seems to be to save people from getting an autism diagnosis, and getting them to a therapist or coach specialized in highly gifted people instead.
Because I recognize myself in the complex, imaginative, play of the highly gifted Little Professors. And in Hans Asperger’s observation that the only way to tell them to do something was by addressing them like equals, show no  personal interest in the result, and separate the message from the messenger.
For example, you could ask:
“What’s on your schedule today?
Not: “I want you to do this and this.”
The moment the boys could sense that Hans was emotionally invested in whether or not they did something, they would start taunting Hans with it.
I fully recognize myself in that dynamic.
You have to intrigue and seduce me.
Like my lover intrigues and seduces me.
And like Michael Douglas intrigues and seduces Catherine.
The parents and school teachers of the Little Professors had not been able to do that. They thought they could get away treating them like normal kids.
They were wrong.
Men have thought they could keep my interest without making an effort to intrigue and seduce me.
That never worked.
And the five cops in the interrogation room thought their presence would intimidate Catherine Tramell. And instead she wiped the floor with them.
A few days ago Sharon Stone received the GQ woman of the year award, and she gave a speech commemorating her life changing moment when she crossed her legs.
It was not an easy to follow speech.
And just like the movie there seemed to be multiple ways to interpret it. But one sentence stood out, because of its simplicity:
“We have every right to be powerful, in whatever form of sexuality we choose to have.”
The times that I wanted to know the “truth” about autism or my mind are over. All the wandering in the dark, thinking about what is wrong with me. Getting lost into the cave searching for the truth. Behind every corner a new one. Just one more and I ll be there.
Just one more.
I will never be there.
And with every corner turned, I lose more energy, I lose myself. I lose.
Two weeks after finding myself in Catherine Tramell pose, video chatting with you on our coaching call, I had managed to entirely fuck it up and lose it all.
The video from Sharon Stone was like a gift from heaven.
It was Friday, a friend sent it to me.
And it felt like a little nudge from heaven:
“Hey Lauren! Put on your white dress, pull your hair up, and go find that man of yours. All this heaviness, it just ain’t you.”
Maybe that’s the ultimate reason I know I will never go down that path of getting an autism diagnosis, ever again. Because although this didn’t bother me the first few months, over the last week I just couldn’t find my sexuality anymore.
I had lost it looking for the truth on autism.
Sharon Stone added something, after telling us we all have our right to our own unique sexuality. And it was the thing that brought it home, just in case you managed to miss it.
She said:
“We have every right to be powerful, in whatever form of sexuality we choose to have.”
And then:
“And no one is allowed to take that away from you.”
No one, Sara.

~Lauren
An unexamined life is not worth living

..

Subscribe to 7-Figure Rock Star Writer

The subscription button to this blog is on this page,
probably on the right.
Back to Basics
is the third chapter of
7-figure Rock Star Writer part 6: Consent play

My diaries en erotica are available at 

my BOOK SHOP
25% discount on all prices
If you check your cart, you can select your store
f.e. Nederland or United States
with the flag in the upper right corner.

Nederlandse boeken kun je ook direct bij mij bestellen

What my instincts tell me

This is a letter to my creativity coach Sara( Sara’s Fb page)
Before our coaching call, I always give her a headsup.

Dear Sara,

This is what I wrote last time, about the happy ending I foresee, that was, and still is, freaking me out. 

It’s no longer a question of whether or not I will have a redemption arc. I will get back on my feet and start making my own money again;
It is no longer a question if me and ALL of the men I am in love with, will one day have a heart to heart and confess this to each other;
It may not even be a question if I will rise to fame both as LS Harteveld as well as the first and only Rock Star Yoga teacher. My current calm and soothing life style will actually be more appealing to the masses than my tapped-in, turned on, full volume style which is my usual self.
None of those things will come as a surprise.
Instead, just like in Star Wars, the only real question is:
Will I live.

And I added Disney might as well finish me off, because just like Kylo Ren, whose redemption and survival of Star Wars episode 9, has been heavily speculated on, I was never born to settle for happily ever after.
But having said all that, my new calm and soothing life style (that will one day kill me!) has kicked in. And it’s spreading to all the branches of the Tree of Life.
However the order has changed a bit.
Where I had initially focused on autism-friendly work, a frustrating path that cost me weeks and lead to The Land of Nowhere, I have now decided to focus on making my finance autism-resistant first.
Without the protection of official reintegration course or an autism based specialization I am going to need all my mental bandwidth to make my working life a success.
I can’t handle the responsibilities, risks and insecurities that would come from (also) still being an entrepreneur, and complex money and capital issues.
Right now my finance is so complicated, my bookkeeper needs me to get legal advice before we can submit my tax forms. And my bookkeeper is not even autistic!
So streamlining my finance, which will probably include ending my business January 1st, is my priority this week. Ideally I want to be able to have everything automated and do my own tax return in 2020.
The activities I did for my company however, I will keep doing. But they could be limited. For example: Having a company allows me to bill clients, if I m giving a talk somewhere.
Not having a business and in particular not having a VAT number, could very well mean I can’t charge money for my yoga class, private yoga class, talks or other services. Or maybe just super limited.
So aside from losing a couple of weeks trying to get a job first, everything is according to plan.
With finance and job sorted out, the real quest will of course be:
Get my sex life back on track.
Being my main suppliers of excitement, adventure, and even growth, men are my raison d’être. And with a schedule which will contain a real job for the first time in over 15 years, how will I keep life juicy?
I still don’t have real answers for that.

The movie Instinct (2019) which helped me prioritize on what’s important in life. Including in my new boring predictable as fuck life as a normal person

I went to a Dutch movie, Instinct.
And it was about a psychiatrist who is sexually aroused by her charismatic patient Idris, who has been convicted of rape.
In one scene where she tries to make love (not to Idris), she doesn’t even function properly.
It is so obvious that she needs him to be dominant. That she needs all responsibility to be taken away from her, so that she can surrender, submit, lose herself in an encounter without consent.
The story made me so sad.
In a way for myself of course: It’s been so long, since it’s been this good. My lover has not come back to me so forcefully as he once was.
My desire for the new man, the Slash lookalike, is ever present but it is quiet between us… Sometimes I don’t know if it’s still before the storm, or if our love is stillborn.
The second reason I was sad, was because I would have loved it if the film had portrayed two lovers who had went down that path. Instead of only dipping their toes in the water basically. And then messing it up because they got so scared. They couldn’t allow for it to unfold, maybe they were not strong enough.
But I would have loved to see them succeed.
But the third, and maybe the most important reason the movie made me sad, is because this is my theme. This is my quest. In January I went offline in order to write a book on consent play. It was called:
Playing No.
A pleasure guide for women with rape and other consent fantasies
And it drove me mad. Writing took hours of my day. It literally consumed me. And meanwhile even back then I did not know how the money was going to come in and what I was going to do with my life.
I was eaten alive on one side, and trying to escape on the other.
Ultimately I quit writing, I gave up.
The thought of having this book out, on such a sensitive topic, when I soon might be returning to a regular job, scared me shitless.
I wasn’t like Idris and the psychiatrist Nicoline; I wasn’t afraid of my own feelings.
I was afraid of putting pen to paper, and sharing with the world what I knew. In particular since I might soon be working in that same world, seeing the same people every day. People whom I did not want to interact with based on my controversial book topic.
And here I was.
Nine months later, I saw the story played out of people perfect for each other and both in the dark about this aspect of sex. Consent play. It was as if the universe called me back to my writing table, and fear caught me by the throat.
Either I start doing what I came here to do, and write the damn book.
Or I’m going to watch the same story of a misunderstood sexual preference, over and over and over again.
Sara, hold my beer.

~Lauren
An unexamined life is not worth living

..

Subscribe to 7-Figure Rock Star Writer

The subscription button to this blog is on this page,
probably on the right.
Let the past die
is the first chapter of
7-figure Rock Star Writer part 6: Consent play

My diaries en erotica are available at 

my BOOK SHOP
25% discount on all prices
If you check your cart, you can select your store
f.e. Nederland or United States
with the flag in the upper right corner.

Nederlandse boeken kun je ook direct bij mij bestellen

coming soon: new books

1. Reboot – a hero’s journey. Diary 2017-2019
2. I M NOT CHANGING MY FUCKING SHOW
3. Big Mistress – confessions, columns and sex advice from the other woman
4. Blote Kont- verhalen over mannen, macht en dagjes uit (Dutch)

The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready is to follow this blog. The subscription button to this blog is on this page, probably on the right.

Sex on Kairos time

I m here, on a Thursday, behind my desk, and I ve just spent the first two hours of my day on an eclectic combination of sorting my Deleted Emails box (yeah, don’t ask!), texting with a friend, reading motivational blogs, and studying articles on the Greek concept of Kairos;
A concept of time when you’re totally absorbed in the moment. 
Time-less-ness.
Awareness of Now and non-awareness of Self.

The time of creativity and breakthroughs.
I know Kairos time from when I’m writing, when I can go on for hours without food and am totally absorbed by my work. But I also know it from spending time with my lover. After four years, 
two hours with him still feel like an eternity.
A heightened awareness of every second.

I intended to write about Kairos, this unruly brother of our linear chronological time.
Until I realized I had nothing to say, or nothing new. There is so much out there already, on Chronos (or Kronos) versus Kairos.
This is the best description I have found:

Kronos is mechanistic and deterministic, time that is ruled by the dead hand of the past. Kronos devours us with remorseless certainty. Kronos turns life into stone.

Kairos is creative and serendipitous.
Kairos is time that is energized by the living dream of the future and presents us with unlimited possibility. Kairos turns fate into destiny.

~Lonnie Kliever, Artellamagazine, 2003. 

The other reason I didn’t want to write about Kairos after all, was because I had connected it to my daily writing;
On weekdays, I start the day by writing a blog post and it will go on until it’s done. This could be ninety minutes of writing, or eight hours.
I was incredibly proud of being able to say that!
“I m on Kairos time! Blog posts will go on for as long as the have to!”
* belching laughter *
But this morning that same Kairos time showed me that it’s not that simple. That maybe I want to study, or clear-out my Inbox. And that although I know that all those “Don’t procrastinate!” warnings, and even the “Eat two frogs every morning!” success rule (know that one?), have never proven to be useful to me, STILL!, I felt slightly embarrassed that I spent this morning not writing.
Not eating frogs.
Doing nothing productive.
And then I felt even more embarrassed because I knew it was only a sign that I was a slave to Chronos thinking. Even I, had no idea what Kairos time was really about.
Even I, could not accept that Kairos time starts with not having plans on what should be done. It starts with creating space for things to happen. For things to unfold. And also with a tuning in. With above.
Because Kairos is 
also called God’s Time, divine time. The idea that things will happen when they need to happen, and that it is your duty to create space, so you can be led.
In the first week of January, I started writing a sex book, offline. 

And at the risk of being blasphemous, talking about God and this topic in one blog post, I would like to refer to it.
So the book was about sexual non-consent play.
And it fucked with my head so much, that it destabilized my life within 7 days. Nice religious reference here, but it really was 7 days of uncreating, and unbalancing.
I decided to drop the project and go back to online writing.
But I remember the shocking conclusion of the last chapter I wrote.
It was that everything from the power play to the play-rape;
To the sexual acts that I find intriguing or which I downright love;
Were not nearly as deviant or strange I thought them to be.
I even concluded that non-consensual play with my lover, easily qualified as my most spiritual side.

You know why?
Because it is completely in the moment.
When you’re playing on the boundaries of non-consent, you’re both fully engaged in what’s going on. You can’t go through the moves, you can’t rely on what you did last time.
Our consent play teleports us to a magical place, where it’s just the two of us, but even we are different here.
Him and me, we’re not our usual selves. We’re filled with potential, with everything we can be, everything we want to be.
But most of all, it’s such an otherworldly experience because we are aware of the NOW.
We really are suddenly on Kairos time.

Wild and unruly.

<3LSH
An Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living

About this blog

Sex on Kairos time is Chapter 24 of my diary 7-figure Rock Star Writer

Follow on Facebook or Twitter,
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My diaries en erotica are available at 
my BOOK SHOP
25% discount on all prices
If you check your cart, you can select your store
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with the flag in the upper right corner.

new books

I m currently working on publishing my latest books:
1. Reboot – a hero’s journey. Diary 2017-2018
2. I M NOT CHANGING MY FUCKING SHOW
3. Big Mistress – confessions, columns and sex advice from the other woman
4. Blote Kont- verhalen over mannen, macht en dagjes uit (Dutch)

The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready is to follow this blog, 7-Figure Rock Star Writer.
The subscription button is somewhere on this page, probably on the right.

Let’s cut the crap shall we? { Notes from the publishing room }

I remember last Tuesday, when I was getting myself all setup and ready to start my 21 day book publishing SPRINT in my new temporary residence, only to find out the Wifi wasn’t working. I jokingly remarked on social media;
“Apparently Life wants me to have a  three week holiday instead.”
The wit of someone who has lost one workday.
I moved my computer to my mother’s house and could still crack jokes about it.
However, after I lost the second workday to personal circumstances;
A third vaporized due to unforeseen things and an appointment  I’d already made;
And I lost my Friday to an early morning mechanic from the contractor (I have escaped renovations in my own apartment – but in this temporary house they have some relatively minor renovations too);
And I was called by the cable company after I had just finished coffee at my mom’s house, and had to come home again?
I wasn’t in the mood for jokes anymore.
Of course I was happy the cable company had finally switched gears after three days, and was coming over to check things out. The main cable, buried under the pavement, turned out to have been damaged. This had not been one of those reset your modem thingies.
But as I was packing my bag yet again, breaking off the last workday of the week before it had even started, I cursed for having made Tuesday’s smart-ass remark that I now had a three week holiday:
“I WAS ONLY JOKING!”
And before that incredible, utterly non-productive week, I had already “wasted” the first week of my 30 day sabbatical, because of an unexpected turn of events.
There I had been.
Offline.
30 Days all to myself, to go publish my books and to write offline about a highly personal subject: My sexual preference for playing rough, like play rape or other role playing games.
I wanted to write my book on sexual consent play offline.
It blended in with the 30 day publishing sabbatical, but I also wanted to write it offline to ensure I would go all in. And to not hold anything back because I was afraid to publish/post/share it through a blog.
I published a carefree chapter; A boyfriend like Jon Bongiovi An analysis of my sexuality as a teen.
But for the other chapters of my offline project, I dove into my mind, and did deep soul searching. I was eager! It felt like I was closing in on something.
Until I realized what I was closing in on, was ME.
Writing this book was like pushing myself towards a cliff.
It was a rude awakening, and I stopped immediately.
2018 was the first time in my life I have ever felt suicidal, and I know now all of it is related;
– the week of non-consensual soul searching that destabilized me
– the recurring nights awake due to stress
– the constant crying
– my heart complaints
– last year’s suicidal thoughts, for the first ever time in my life.
Even losing an entire week due to renovations, moving house and wifi problems is ultimately just a sign of not having your head straight. If you re focused as fuck – you WILL do the work regardless of what life throws at you.
But the good news is, I now understand all of these things are caused by the same causes. And more importantly, will most likely become manageable once I have stabilized my life.
By NOT searching deeply into my soul.
Stick with fixed working hours.
Have weekends off.
And to be very cautious to ever touch the subject of consent play again.
Just to illustrate why I m being so careful: Last Friday, when I started this blog post, I added a chapter from my book on consent play.
How could that hurt right?
I mean, it wasn’t even sexual.
So I copied, pasted, edited, rewrote. And although I blamed not finishing on not having enough time, I knew it was something else.
That including the chapter in this post was making me sick.
It was, is, still destabilizing me.
I need to give up on the book on sexual consent play. I don’t want to, because I felt blessed that I had been “given” such an interesting topic to write about. And at a point in my life when I thought my life would be editing and publishing my old books.
Meh. Boring!
So ungrateful to toss it aside.
But this topic has already cost me a week of writing, and it has totally derailed me.
I go between thinking I will pick it up in the future, when I m bored or so stable I need some serious excitement. And thinking that maybe I don’t want to.
That maybe the trick with my writing, is that it NEEDS TO BE ABSOLUTELY FREE.
I can’t write a book limiting myself beforehand that “this and this” is going to be the topic. And in particular not when the topic is sexual consent play (or should I say non-consent play?). The topic is too heavy, too political.
Maybe there is a reason nobody investigates consent play, and that it’s being brushed off with “it being really normal for women to have rape fantasies”.
Maybe that really is all you can say about it, without going mad.
At least for me.

<3LSH
An Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living

I m back! 

Let’s cut the crap shall we? is Chapter 22 of my diary 7-figure Rock Star Writer

It marks the ending of my brave but stupid attempt to not blog, and to take a 30 day sabbatical in order to publish my books.
Because after two weeks I can see that the time freed up by not blogging, up to 7 hours a day, was not spent publishing my books. Instead it just drew in drama, meltdowns and unforeseen circumstances.

So I ll be back blogging, and also still publish my books.
These are:
1. Reboot – a hero’s journey. Diary 2017-2018
2. I M NOT CHANGING MY FUCKING SHOW
3. Big Mistress – confessions, columns and sex advice from the other woman
4. Blote Kont- verhalen over mannen, macht en dagjes uit (Dutch)
The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready is to follow this blog. 
The subscription button is somewhere on this page, probably on the right.

Or follow on Facebook or Twitter,
NEW connect on Linkedin

My diaries en erotica are available at 
my BOOK SHOP
25% discount on all prices
If you check your cart, you can select your store
f.e. Nederland or United States
with the flag in the upper right corner.

 

Becoming friends { notes from the publishing room }

real footage of befriending process

I’m here in my temporary office, at my mother’s house. I haven’t touched my computer in days, and it’s scaring me.
My mother asked me what my plans were for today  -I m only working for two hours – and I said:
“To become friends with my computer.”
My hands are shaking, I woke up with a headache, and I have no idea where to begin.
My last entry was on my phone.
A Facebook post where I explained why plans had changed. Which ultimately led to even more time offline, due to personal circumstances which I won’t share.
Anyway, before all that – here’s what I wrote last Tuesday:
Sweethearts, this is not how I planned all this, moving in and out of sabbatical.
NOR did I plan for this final post to be a Facebook text instead of a proper blog.
A phone typed English-only thing without spelling check;
Eventhough (should have been 2 words) I planned on writing an English and Dutch blog tomorrow.
But I can’t.
In short two things happened which threw me offtrack within a 30 day writing & publishing sabbatical.
Firstly, the book I was writing offline fucked with my head. Which is wild. Just not when you need your head in order to publish 4 books.
Then you need to write one skin-deep, super high vibe 90 minute blogpost just to start the day.
Which was the plan.
But then the 2nd thing happened; I moved to a temporary house for 3 weeks while my own house is being renovated.
But in the first week they will have heating and window renovations here as well AND the wifi not doing what it’s supposed to.
So I spent today making arrangements to save at least some of my 21 Artist In Residence days, and succeeded. I have my work place set up somewhere nice, with heating, windows, wifi. Can t wish for anything more.
But it s not my home.
I can t work my unlimited working hours there.
I have to plan them, by block.
And will work 2-6 hours maximum, every day.
Which means;
No more writing babe.
Publishing smack down every hour I can muster.
Every time block GO ALL IN.
Back Thursday February 7.
The book I was writing which I was referring to (which drove me mad) was called “Playing No. Diary of submissive non-consent fantasies” And it was “wild” indeed. So philosophical.
If I have other days where I can’t work, for example because my computer scares me, I ll reblog the chapters I want to save.
But the book itself?
No.
Maybe it’s because – just like the mistress topic – writing about this aspect of my sex life is more an ongoing thing. Something to study while writing a blog, instead of writing it offline.
My main reason for wanting to write offline was to go deep into the material. But as a result my life was completely destabilized within a week. The relative shallowness of blogging your work, which means immediately sharing what you’ve written, is actually a blessing for me.
It ensures that I don’t cut too deep!
That I don’t jump into the void just for the sake of it, only to resurface a week later, realizing I actually lost an entire week’s worth of work and not gained anything, except for a learning experience.
What I’m doing today – working behind my computer, reading emails, things that scare me! – is actually opposite to the approach that brought me the meltdown.
I’m now coasting, where I was jumping in.
“Becoming friends” is derived from a tactic they use in soccer, related to the youngest children. I used to date a soccer coach, and he explained what the different learning goals were for the junior teams.
And the smallest children, I think they were 4 or 5 years old, were just there to “become friends with the ball”.
I ve always remembered that. Or at least tried to remember it, for times like this when something is intimidating, and all you feel is guilt and shame for how far you could have been, should have been, IF ONLY you had not dropped out of it.
But yesterday (Wednesday) I also couldn’t work because of the unexpected setback in my personal life. It had cost me a night’s sleep and it took all my remaining foggy brainpower to work through it.
Now I have an understanding as to why it happened and what the things were, which needed to be figured out anyway.
But after losing Monday to the move into my new temporary apartment, Tuesday to setting up my office, it not working, relocating the whole thing to here; AND Wednesday to personal drama?
That’s three days in a row!
For a writer/ book publisher who was already still recovering from her one week offline book writing meltdown, it was bad timing to say the least.
And why I m now starting at the most basic level.
Becoming friends with my computer.
I have two more goals;
– open an email which I don’t know what’s in it, and from someone I have in high regard.
– go to one of my blogs and copy/paste/harvest at least one post, and paste it into my archive in order to create it into a book. Just so that I ve gone through the moves today at least once; Select with mouse. Copy. Go to Word. Paste.
But first coffee…..
Okay, I enjoyed some procrastination time on Twitter and have a cup of coffee here. Deep breath. Going to open the email.

Spent ten minutes deleting and filing other emails. To take the scare off of it. Now I m going to open IT.

Oh it was really lovely. It was from someone whom I admire deeply, and he makes me blush, although I have no idea if he knows that.
Maybe he does.
Now, I m going to do my copy-paste thing.

Done!
*publishes post Becoming Friends*
Mission accomplished.

<3LSH
An Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living

Start 30 day sabbatical

Publishing friends 
is part of my posts I should not be writing because I m supposedly on a publishing sabbatical. 

After which I will have my four books ready:
1. Reboot – a hero’s journey. Diary 2017-2018
2. I M NOT CHANGING MY FUCKING SHOW
3. Big Mistress – confessions, columns and sex advice from the other woman
4. Blote Kont- verhalen over mannen, macht en dagjes uit (Dutch)
The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready is to follow this blog. 
The subscription button is somewhere on this page, probably on the right.

Or follow on Facebook or Twitter,
NEW connect on Linkedin

My diaries en erotica are available at 
my BOOK SHOP
25% discount on all prices
If you check your cart, you can select your store
f.e. Nederland or United States
with the flag in the upper right corner.

Consent and creating a safe space { start 30 day sabbatical }

This is the post I thought I wouldn’t write!
This morning I got behind my desk, in order to start my new book on consent play; The part of my sexuality which I have been consciously downplaying my whole life because I thought it wasn’t good enough.
Immature.
Difficult.
Irresponsible even.
And I actually looked forward to starting fresh and leaving everything already written here on this blog, behind me. 
I would start by creating a safe place.
For myself, in the form of a 30 day sabbatical from blogging and social media. As well as for the reader, by opening with a chapter on the need to protect our sexuality.

To NOT let the big world in telling us it’s dangerous and that we’re opening the doors to being raped in real life. And that we’re at least partially responsible for all the date rapes and the #metoo victims, because our sexuality leaves too much room for interpretation.
Where BDSM is viewed by everyone as its own world with its own rules and therefore safe, our consent play takes place in the real world.
It’s not in the SM basement, using special rope and safe words.
It’s in the woods where your lover is forcing himself onto you.
Someone walking by would not know the difference between a real rape, and your play. But that doesn’t mean that your lover doesn’t know.
Or that you are mistaken.
One of the most mesmerizing concepts of BDSM for me, has been the use of safe words. And I ve heard of one woman being raped by her boyfriend, in what could have been interpreted as play-rape.
She used their safe word but was raped anyway.
She went public with her story and many women stepped forward, telling stories about him, and what he had done to them.  
This story to me implies we are all at risk of being raped, once someone doesn’t respect your boundaries. Just because you play with these boundaries, does not put you more at risk.
Nor does having a safe word mean you re safe.
It only gives you the assurance that you as a woman have done all you could to make it absolutely clear that you didn’t want it. That you were not to blame.
The only safety we have in any type of sex is this:
Connection.
The reason I always got this weird feeling about safe words, whenever we had played rough and I realized much later that we had done so not having any safe words, which is like BDSM rule number 1 – is that although I m all pro-safety, I got a feeling it was actually dangerous, to work with safe-words.
And then I realized why.
I feel if you’re with someone who is not able to read you, you shouldn’t even be with this person in the first place. To me, a deep trust and understanding between me and a lover is the basis for play. Not every man is willing, nor able, to connect with a woman on that kind of level.
To let her resist and cry, and at the same time be completely tuned in to when she is not enjoying it. That is tremendous hard work!

And skilled work too!
But to me, although I think having a safe word can never hurt, it does give me an uncomfortable feeling because it’s like you’re simplifying things that should not be simplified. 

I m still not sure if I would be able to describe the man who is able to offer this kind of play, but my estimate is that it’s not a man with a fixed preference.
He “is” not a dominant.
My estimate is that a man who’s able to be a consent-play partner is a man who loves to please women. 
A man who is actually much more versatile in his sexuality than she is.
His joy comes from pleasing her.
His power stems more from his ability to put her at ease and make her feel safe, than from having the dominant position in their play.
That is why we, submissive consent-play lovers, will be confused if men offer themselves as dominants or rough play partners. We will feel something is off here… but what is it?
I think because what I would call a “real” consent-play man is versatile. He lets her determine which game they’re going to play. And as soon as he feels her presence this is what he will do:
He ll step back.
Creating a space of pure consciousness between him and her.
It is quiet and peaceful. There are no rules there that he put up. Nor are there traces of the women before her, or ideas on what he thinks sex should be.
It’s completely blank.
He just IS there, offering the space for her to enter.
And if she does, he is still just there, quiet.

Maybe he makes her tea, cracks a little joke.
If he talks about sex he does it in relation to her. He’s interested in her, not in forcing his ideas about sex onto her.
To me, the difference between BDSM and consent play would look something like this
;
BDSM has
– rules and safe words
– a dominant partner, from the first moment 
– and a submissive who (during play) says yes and agrees. She has her safe words to indicate him to stop.
Consent play has
– no rules, but they are constantly tuned in. The couple can of course have safe words as a backup.
– a versatile dominant, who will be able to have satisfying sexual relationships with women with all kinds of preferences
-and a submissive who determines the rules, and selects her partner. But during play she says no, kicks, screams or just lets him “abuse” her because she’s supposedly too afraid and intimidated to stop. She will “act” differently, when she wants him to stop or change. For example use her normal tone of voice.
What I wanted to do today, when I started on this blank page writing my new book, is stating we, women with these preferences, have a right to explore our sexuality.

And we should be very weary getting caught up in projections of other people’s fear of abuse, and our own fears as well.
Compare it to Christian families where fear of pregnancy is used as a weapon to keep girls from experimenting.
And I grew up in the eighties: Aids warnings were intertwined with condoning sex with multiple partners.
Pregnancy warnings, as well as the hiv/aids warnings, as well as each and every tale or warning about sex, is an area where mixing in morale is almost inevitable.
Instead, every warning with regard to sex, should include – and preferably very explicitly – the following four elements: 

1. acknowledgement that you can never be a 100% safe unless you completely refrain from sex.
Therefor saying things like: “As long as you are doing it safe,” are wrong.
What you can do is say: “There is no such thing as a hundred percent safety. But can I help you in any way? Buy you condoms, or be your backup if you’re meeting a stranger? Or a talk if you feel insecure about things that happened?”
2. acknowledgement that your environment (whether viewed as high in risk or low in risk) is already largely determined by the nature of your sexuality.

Acting as if you can choose to be safe or not safe, implies that you can choose to be gay or straight, to be monogamous or have multiple partners, and ultimately also a choice between having consent-play or not.
But these things are natural preferences that will bring you in different types of situations. Even if we would agree that there are less risks when you are married (do we agree?!) it would still not acknowledge that your sex life is a reflection of your sexuality.
You can’t say “Oh, this and this sex life is the safest, I ll pick that one.”
The chances that you just picked the sex life that is honoring your sexuality, are zero.
You need to start with your sexuality, and the sex life that goes with that, will appear.
3. acknowledgement that just because something is dangerous, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t do it.
I remember in Africa our parents told us to never turn rocks because there could be scorpions underneath. Years later I confessed to my mother that we did turn rocks, but we ran away immediately and then slowly approached to look at what’s underneath.
She answered: “Because we had warned you, you were cautious. If we had not warned you, you would not have known.”
Warnings about dangers should never be a sign that you shouldn’t do it.
Just that you are aware of the risks.
4. acknowledgement that sex is not easy, and assurance that whatever happens, you will be loved
This is HUGE. Imagine sex education starting with this:
“Dear students,
I will not sugarcoat this for you.
Sex is probably the most complicated social activity that exists.
It requires skills like risk assessment, diplomacy, and knowing yourself.
Many powerful men and women have made mistakes that have cost them their lives. And other men and women have avoided those mistakes, but they’ve languished in loveless marriages and have been consumed by regret.
Great art has come of it. Empires have been built with it. But it has also decimated entire communities, and brought down civilizations.
Yet, the only way to learn what sexuality is, and what treasures it holds for you, is by doing it. We will prepare you, but it will barely cover 10% of what you will encounter. In reality it will be way closer to learning on the job.
And a very complicated job.
But before we begin I want you to know the most important thing.
And you may want to write this down.
You will be loved, regardless of what happens.
No matter what mistakes you make, no matter how many times you lose control or hurt yourself or someone else. As long as you can learn from what you’re doing, you will be loved.
As long as you’re willing to get better, and create more love, both for yourself and others;
You will be loved.
And if this enables you to keep studying, and to not settle for easy solutions.
But instead you keep aiming higher than anyone else has ever dared to go.
Then sex will not just give direction to your life.
But instead it will give hope and provide meaning for anyone you come into contact with.
For you will have mastered the true essence of existence.
You will have mastered love.”

<3LSH
An Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living

Start 30 day sabbatical

This blog post is the beginning of my 30 day sabbatical, in which I will be publishing my books and write my book on consent play.
I ve changed the title to Playing no. Diary of submissive non-consent fantasies
The biggest change compared to the earlier title is that I ve removed the word rape from the title, so that it’s less triggering.
And I ve made it from a guide for women into a personal diary.
Which gives me maximum freedom to write from a personal perspective and also means it will be less triggering for the reader – since I obviously don’t pretend to know what your preferences are.
I merely share mine.

I will go offline for at least 30 days.
And when I return I will have my four books ready:

1. Reboot – a hero’s journey. Diary 2017-2018
2. I M NOT CHANGING MY FUCKING SHOW
3. Big Mistress – confessions, columns and sex advice from the other woman
4. Blote Kont- verhalen over mannen, macht en dagjes uit (Dutch)
and
5. Playing no. Diary of submissive non-consent fantasies
The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready is to follow this blog. 
The subscription button is somewhere on this page, probably on the right.

About this book Playing No

I have already started, since the first chapters will be based on this post and the previous 2 blog posts (To tell or not to tell and Playing no)
Tomorrow I m starting the rest of the book and I m writing it offline.
I will be writing about the non-consensual fantasies and I will also write about the different sexual acts.
The sexual acts can also be part of BDSM or normal non-role playing sex. The main characteristic of consent play is the “victim” pretending not to like it, or pretending to be in a setting where she is forced to comply.
However the acts themselves are important for me to describe.
Name and claim them.
And why they fit in so well into this play.
I have never seen these acts discussed in main stream media and this has slowed down the process of me coming to terms with who I am and what I like.
I want to write them out so that the women who read my book do see these taboo subjects written down by a fairly normal, sane, Dutch woman of 46 years old.
I want to put to paper all those fantasies that feel so good, yet I m pretty sure there are still so many negative thoughts associated with it as well.
Let’s fix that 😉 

<3LSH
An Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living

7-Figure Rock Star Writer

Consent and creating a safe place is episode 19 of my project 7-figure rock star writer  
The subscribe button to this diary is somewhere on this page

Or follow on Facebook or Twitter,
NEW connect on Linkedin

My diaries en erotica are available at 
my BOOK SHOP
25% discount on all prices
If you check your cart, you can select your store
f.e. Nederland or United States
with the flag in the upper right corner.

Connect

I m taking time off to publish my four books + to write this new book
The best way to stay posted when they are ready is to follow subscribe to this blog,
follow on Facebook or Twitter,
NEW connect on Linkedin

 

Playing No. A pleasure guide for women with rape and other consent fantasies

click photo for a related article in The New York Times:
Finding the Courage to Reveal a Fetish

Sometimes I think I m just as submissive to my muse, to writing, as I am as to my lovers.
That I have a basic plan in place of what we’re going to do, but if I feel the other one taking the lead, I succumb with an inappropriate eagerness that reveals that my own free will, is plan B.

That I’d rather have plan A.
Where I have nothing to say, and just have to follow his lead.
Where things are done without consulting me, or against my will, and might be painful but that is of none of their concern.

An hour ago the muse Writing, forced himself onto me with the idea for this book.
I immediately said yes.

This morning I practically wrote the introduction to this book.
The post was called “To tell or not to tell?” and it was about a conversation I had with a friend about a sex toy, which was emotionally charged for me. In a good way – it’s exciting and hot.
But I also realized I wasn’t open about that aspect of my sexuality, which the toy represented. Which is that I like role playing where things are done against my will.
This post “To tell or not to tell?” stated that I was not yet going to tell what the toy was, because I felt it was part of something bigger.
And that I wanted to wait until the full story had revealed itself.
At first I thought the toy represented my submissiveness.
But now I realize I m not submissive at all!
Instead of saying something like: “Oh please punish me master.”
I like to kick and scream: “No!”
That’s when I realized I had never heard of a term for that and decided to give it a new name.
Consent play.
This new book is that story.

Hiding in plain sight

It is a strange thing, even for me, to realize that although I thought I had been open about my sexuality, that I ve actually not been open about this at all.
There are two places where I have been hiding.
The first place is: I hide behind my relationship, which is an affair with my secret lover Mr.Big. I hide behind the sex we, as a couple, have.
Or had, I m not sure if we’re still on.
Either way, my book Big, describes us playing out many of my non-consensual sex fantasies.
But what I have mentioned only secondary, is that the fantasies belong to me. They are a part of who I am. And have always been.
Our affair was not a case of:
“Oh, we’re so crazy about each other. Now let’s spice things up with what we both like.”
Four years in, and I now have a deep understanding this was a case of:
“You have to be on my page about this. I cannot NOT do this.”
In the past I ve had boyfriends with whom I was not completely head over heels in love, as I am with my current lover. And we tried to make things work in bed.
Since the entire situation was less than ideal to begin with, not having my full sexual agenda met was no big deal.
Our sex was going to be sub-optimal anyway.
But to hook up with my secret lover Mr.Big, a successful business man in his forties, visit his apartment, and to then say; “We ll see how it goes?”
No.
Sorry.
We’ll see how it goes is available for when I m not in love, and have to do all the hard work of matching two pretty much incompatible people who want different things, by using all the social and people skills I have.
By the time we get naked I ve invested so much, I ll take that final leap and make it work all the way through.
We ll see how it goes.
But with a lover I m totally crazy about?
Then it really is going to be my way or the highway.
Either we re going for fireworks in the bedroom, with a hundred percent compatible sexual agenda. Or we’re not going through with this at all.
And a compatible agenda means you’re dominant, but not in the conventional rope/leather/master slave kind of way.
But in MY way!
Because that’s the second place I ve been hiding: Between expressions of female sexual submission. Which is basically a spectrum.
On one hand you have the soft version of female submissiveness:
Going to dinner with a vibrating egg in your pussy with your lover holding the remote.
And on the other hand, the hardcore version of BDSM, with ropes, leather, formal roles of master and slave. Or the dominant and the submissive.
I ve called my sexuality submissive on many occasions. And I still might. Yet “I” am actually nowhere to be found on this entire scale.
Not near the vanilla version, nor on the BDSM side.
My sexuality, consent play, holds closest resemblance to the rough sex you see in porn. And the rapey things a lot of men have started incorporating into their repertoire; Pinch your throat, or spit their hand and then make you wet. They push you down when you’re in doggy style, with your head in the pillow and your ass up.
All things I like.
On a pretty bitchy side note, from me: What I don’t like during sex, because it’s distracting and annoying, is spanking.
I like being spanked when we take the time to do just that.
Like take me over your knee, or bend me over the table, and you punish me. Which I don’t want at all, but you make me stand or lie there, since it is of “none of your concern” what I want.
That would be awesome! LOL
But slapping during sex is distracting.
But these are all details! Because I am thrilled to see men have gotten more aggressive in bed.
And I hear this from friends as well; There are plenty of men who can do it rough(er). Either because they know you like it, or they take an educated guess.
Or they’re completely ignorant and think all women like reenacting porn movies, that’s also an option.
But in general I think we do live in a time where as women who like it rough, it is much easier to find a partner, than it was let’s say twenty years ago.
The movies and books of 50 Shades did us the tremendous favor of normalizing the extremes of the BDSM spectrum; The soft power play like him having the remote, as well as the other extreme of owning a fully equipped red room of pain.
And porn did us the favor of normalizing rough sex.
And these three things (vanilla toy play, BDSM, and rapey sex) all have their pros and cons. But at least they’re there.
This makes it a lot easier to navigate your way through what you like and don’t like.

Coming out

In the previous paragraph I ve illustrated how I have been using both my relationship, as well as porn sex, vanilla toy sex and BDSM as ways to avoid speaking about what I really like.
Revealing the true nature of my sexuality.
I ve been so eager when people said: “Oh but it’s really normal for women to have rape fantasies.”
When I just knew my sexuality was a lot more outspoken than that.
I think my masturbation fantasies tell it all: they have been about non-consensual sex for as long as I can remember.
I also have normal, loving sex, with my lover. But I do want to remind you that we have a secret affair, which is exciting in its own right. Sometimes I wonder if I would actually be able to have normal sex if I had a man for myself.
I m afraid not.
I need it to be forbidden one way or the other.
Either way, when I look at my masturbation patterns, my preference become crystal clear.
Being a non-consensual submissive is not some optional thing to spice up my relationship. It’s the bare bones of my sexuality. I can count the times I have masturbated on normal men, and normal non-violent fantasies on one hand.
They were an effort.
An attempt to do something different.
Five times tops, in my entire life, masturbating to something different than all the degrading, disturbing, sexual fantasies I’m going to describe in this book.
And yet when someone said it/ I was entirely normal?
I was silent.

About this book

It is now Friday January 4th. 
And I have decided that I will be writing this book offline, and to then immediately print it. I will not post the individual chapters here first.
This is because of two reasons.
The first reason is unspeakably boring.

Blogging takes up a lot of time and space. A post like this takes up anywhere between 3 to 7 hours. If my plan for the upcoming month was just to write, then maybe, blogging the chapters of “Playing no. A pleasure guide for women with rape and other consent fantasies” could have worked.
But I ve been trying to get around to publishing four of my books, for months. And in January I was REALLY going to do that.
I ve already made photos and booked my graphic designer for the covers. But I m nowhere when it comes to actually doing the work of editing and creating the books.
So I can’t possibly keep blogging if I want to get serious about publishing.
I ve known that for a few weeks now but I love writing so much!
I had no idea how to go about that.
But the idea to write this book, gives me a way out.
Writing “Playing no. A pleasure guide for women with rape and other consent fantasies” will be my daily writing during the process of publishing. And then this will be the fifth book.
I suspect the cover work will be really minimal – with just me creating the cover in Paint (!!). I ve done that in 2017 as well.
I published 8 books with a design cover, but added a little pet project on female sexuality (Dutch).
Last minute.
In a similar fashion “Playing no. A pleasure guide for women with rape and other consent fantasies” will be my pet project the upcoming month.
I will go offline for at least 30 days.
And when I return I will have my four books ready:

1. Reboot – a hero’s journey. Diary 2017-2018
2. I M NOT CHANGING MY FUCKING SHOW
3. Big Mistress – confessions, columns and sex advice from the other woman
4. Blote Kont- verhalen over mannen, macht en dagjes uit (Dutch)
and
5. Playing no. A pleasure guide for women with rape and other consent fantasies
The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready is to follow this blog. 
The subscription button is somewhere on this page, probably on the right.
The second reason I m not blogging this book, but writing it offline, is that this story will be my most personal story to date.
I have no interest in sharing it with people who have not made the conscious choice to acquire it.
Just like my previous pet project I will keep the selling price as low as possible, but it’s going to be paid content only.
Because of the sensitivity of the topics – including being sensitive to me – I am really giving myself that halfway version, when things are written, but not shared yet.

When the art is created, but not yet seen.
I feel this will help me to get comfortable with this part of my sexuality, which I have been hiding for so long.
I intend to write about the non-consensual fantasies itself; And I will also write about the different unconventional sexual acts.
This will make it extremely explicit and real.
Because the reason I am writing this book, is to name and claim all these “deviant” acts, as part of what we like.
Well, maybe there should not be quotation marks.
Maybe they really are deviant. I don’t know.
But I do know I have never seen these acts discussed in main stream media, and this has slowed down the process of me coming to terms with who I am, and what I like.
So I want to write them out, so that the women who read my book do see these taboo subjects written down by a fairly normal, sane, Dutch woman of 46 years old.
I want to put to paper all those fantasies that feel so good, yet I m pretty sure there are still so many negative thoughts associated with it as well.
One of the main reasons I have not shared my preference before, and hid behind orientations that were more, well “defined”, I guess, is because the fight for women’s right is an ongoing one. 
The #metoo movement, and the realization that women are still preyed upon and their rights are still violated, make it difficult to find a place in this world where your fantasies belong.
Where you belong.
But this sexual orientation is an acquired one. It is the ultimate expression of women’s rights gone right.
Because only a woman who is certain that she’s worthy, and that no one can question her rights, 
will feel drawn to the pleasure of submitting herself.
Of playing, that her rights are violated, and her body penetrated against her will. Only the one who is not a victim by any standard, will like to do it for fun.
My lover and me often made jokes about my sexual preference.
My love of being dominated, being forced into submission. 

I always have this giant smile on my face, after we’ve played.
And I remind him that within prostitution, it’s the dominants who get paid. They do all the work. And their clients are usually wealthy, powerful men, who call the shots in the real world.
Because in the end it is never the dominant, who is dominant.
It is the submissive.

<3LSH
An Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living

7-Figure Rock Star Writer

Playing no. A pleasure guide for women with rape and other consent fantasies
is episode 18 of my project 7-figure rock star writer  
The subscribe button to this diary is somewhere on this page

Or follow on Facebook or Twitter,
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My diaries en erotica are available at 
my BOOK SHOP
25% discount on all prices
If you check your cart, you can select your store
f.e. Nederland or United States
with the flag in the upper right corner.

30 day sabbatical

I m taking time off to publish my four books + to write this new book
“Playing no. A pleasure guide for women with rape and other consent fantasies”
The best way to stay posted when they are ready is to follow subscribe to this blog,
follow on Facebook or Twitter,
NEW connect on Linkedin

 

To tell or not to tell

charity bake sale (3)Yesterday’s candid post about my sexual preferences, blended in perfectly with my gay best friend coming over to my house.
Next to my lover Mr.Big – and years before my lover Mr.Big!- Damian is the only one who knows everything about me.

In my desire to tell someone “neutral” about my sex life, I picked him.
My gay friend.

Which was a wise choice.
In retrospect the strongest common ground is that we’re both people for whom sex is a mind game. Context is everything.
It started out with just asking him tips on anal sex, because I had no one to talk to about that and my partners were inexperienced on the matter.
They would want to try it, if I organized it. 

Which didn’t work out. You could even say that by the time I have to take the lead within a relationship, it’s downhill from there.
They say couples unconsciously keep score on who invests what. And me taking initiative with sex, is ten points off.
In theory at least.

Because I also remember a conversation Damian and me had, where I confided in him that I had been dominant in bed with a new boyfriend who was way younger than me and wanted to be dominated.
I felt it was my duty to do this. That it is basically your responsibility if you are with someone who’s not as experienced as you, that you give them what they want.
Like a sexual pay it forward.
So I played my part and he was taken against his will.

Now don’t call the police; this was all play.
But anyway, I told Damian that I actually liked abusing him, a lot more than I thought I would. He asked if he had heard this correctly:
“You didn’t know you had a dominant side?” 
And then shook his head: “I think this is what they call a blind spot.”
I ve always considered myself a bottom (gay term for being the receiving party), but I turned out to be a lot more versatile than I thought.
Either way, Damian and me have a long history of discussing sex, and he has been my main and most consistent friend on the matter.
He even remembers all my boyfriends by name, and characteristics.
Last night Damian and me had a date.
I assumed we’d meet in the city but I
 got an A.M. text from him:
“Shall I be at your place at 8? You don’t have to get us cake, because I ve had way too much of that the past couple of days.”

So no city then, and I bought us a selection of Celestial Seasons and Yogi Tea.
Our date night would break the habit of daily drinking.
Something that had been going on since way before Christmas.

I definitely would have had two glasses if our date had been in the city.
I don’t keep any alcohol at home because I don’t want to reward staying indoors. But n
ormally I would have bought wine if I had someone coming over. But I knew Damian almost never drank.
When I told him that I was so happy with our indoor-date because it broke my drinking habits, his eyes lit up. He hadn’t even thought of going to the city! And he loved the idea of going for a drink!

But yesterday we were still at my home, with lots of privacy, so that might explain why our conversation got so intimate.
He told me something that had happened that he had not told anyone. And that had caused him anxiety. 

And I showed him a sex toy I had mixed feelings about.
I thought I was cool with it but I never put it in my blog, and only two of my partners have ever known about it.

Damian and me had such a fit of laughter when I brought it out.
I actually kept it hidden, before I showed it. And probably said ridiculous things like: “You have to promise you won’t laugh!”
While practically choking with laughter myself.

So there were obviously a lot of unresolved emotions connected to it.
And probably embarrassment too.
When Damian left it made me wonder:
Should I talk about this? Write about this?

And then this morning, much to my own surprise, I decided not to.
But I figured out why I ultimately chose not to write about it.
Here’s what I found:
Being ashamed of something has power over you.
But that doesn’t mean that sharing/ being transparent will give you power.
It’s the embarrassment itself, that makes you powerless.
Not the lack of honesty or transparency. 
For example: staying in the closet if you’re gay.
If you are okay with hiding your sexuality, because it means you re more easily accepted, and you don’t offer others an opportunity to talk about something that is basically none of their business, then the closet is empowering.
Because you are consciously withholding information for your own gain.
And should your lie come out you will just say:

“Okay, busted. Tried to slip it by you.”
But on the other hand, if you are in the closet because you believe you are unlovable because of your preferences , or because you fear people withdrawing their love if you come out, then it has become a trap.
You are withholding information out of fear of losing something.
Should your lie now come out, you will feel the shame of being the way you are AND the shame of having lied.
Double trouble.
And yet, I m not 
going to tell you what I shared with Damian.
Writing about something that embarrasses me, has often been cathartic.
But I think my conversation with Damian, as well as my thoughts on this blog post (was I going to share, or not?) made me realize I m still learning here, I m fine-tuning the skill of honesty and transparency.
If you find a way to come to terms with some aspect of yourself, without having to tell anyone, you can ultimately get even more power and pleasure from it, than if you share.
I will end this blog post explaining how keeping things secret can benefit you.
But first I want to go into when it can be beneficial to tell.
And how to do it to make it so.

1. Tell

Telling your truth to the outside world can be beneficial when you are consumed by fear of some truth coming out.
It’s like ripping the band-aid.
It will hurt for a moment, but it can empower you.
There are 2 ways to do this.
Two scenarios.
Scenario 1. The Big Leap
Reveal all and stand your ground. Regardless of what’s coming your way. Ideally, you must be prepared to lose everything over this, and see it as one big test if you are actually owning this.
If you expect an outcome, and reveal all based on the premises that it won’t be that bad, that’s an awful position to be in.

I ve once heard on selling: People don’t buy your product, they buy your certainty.
Ultimately you want to be able to reveal your secret, because it is a training of you learning to be certain, regardless if people buy/ accept.
You’re opening the floodgates, because you know it will teach you how to go next level. It’s swim or drown.
Since this scenario is more public, you could imagine something like:
You start a blog, under a pen name or alias, about being gay, and dating multiple men. Or if you want to really open the floodgates you do it under your real name.
But I would advise against that, and suggest scenario 2 for your inner circle:
Scenario 2. Revealing and asking help.
In many ways, this scenario is similar to 1. You have to be willing to lose all, and you certainly must not assume everyone will want to help you.
But this is definitely a softer scenario, and it is particularly suitable for more intimate situations.
Where scenario 1 is perfect go next level, leveraging social media, scenario 2 is more for an email to friends, or your employer.
Scenario 2 is:
“This is what’s been going on in my life, and I would love your support in this and this way.”
It’s being specific in what you need, that is the magic trick here.
For example:
“I am gay, and I am dating multiple men. I would love to be able to talk openly about that, whenever we’re together.”
Then you will have brought the discussion back to whether or not they’re going to give that specific support.
But you’re not putting the fact itself, up there for debate.
So these are the two scenarios to make sharing the truth, an empowering experience. 
You will no longer have the paralyzing fear that it will come out.
Because you’ve already done it yourself

Not tell

But if something is only slightly embarrassing or uncomfortable, you can also come to terms with it behind the scenes.
And keep it a secret, but one you’re in control of.
This was the case with me discussing my sex life with my friend Damian.
It was something that gave me the giggles, and he cracked jokes and I laughed so hard, it made my stomach ache.
But ultimately, if someone asked me about it, or found out about it, I would be able to say: “I don’t feel like discussing that.”
Or, alternatively: “What do you want to know?”
It’s not that big a deal.
And there’s another aspect that made me decide not to tell this now, just for the sake of it. And that reason is: I actually look forward to talking about this.
I feel it’s part of something larger. An unexplored side of sexuality.
The fact that it managed to fascinate even Damian, made me realize this sex toy was triggering. And most likely in a good way.
So knowing there is a bigger story to be told, a bigger perspective to be offered, is a really good reason to not share the more shallow or obvious facts now.
I compare it to when I became a mistress.
My confusion lay in the fact that I didn’t know what I was.
I knew I had gotten involved in a relationship with a married man, and I expected him to choose for me, because why would he not?!
And then he didn’t.
We got into this power struggle, where I didn’t understand what was going on, and he was not letting me in on his motives or his reasons.
But then I decided:
“He will have his reasons. I love him, and I will stand by him. Whatever his choice may be.”
I took my wounded ego for not being chosen, out of the equation and gave myself a different role, an identity.
I was a mistress.
I chose to be that.
Yet, if I had come out with my messy “Oh! He doesn’t leave his wife, boo hoo hoo!” story? Things would have been much more complicated.
I would probably have been looking for validation and it would not have been empowering at all.
By letting it simmer for a while, and giving it meaning, a narrative, I have allowed people to connect with that.
To connect with the story on a deeper level.
But the existence of my sexuality, a mistress, and his sexuality, a cheating husband, are presented by me, as a given. They’re not up for debate.
I only discuss how women with my preferences, and men with his preferences, can learn to accept themselves for what they are.
And be the best version of that.
It wasn’t until I saw I was a mistress, that I was able to see the deeper meaning, a story that affects many more people;
The women who keep feeling attracted to unavailable men, but also the betrayed women, and men who cheat.
My perspective on the nature of the mistress, the cheater, and even the betrayed wife, provides meaning in a situation that has the potential to crush all who are involved.
It offers healing, for all parties.
In a similar fashion I feel discussing my triggering sex toy alone, is premature. That I want to wait for the whole story to come out. I already know that it’s not something that is talked about or addressed anywhere else.
Least of all in main stream sex advice.
And in the process of creating this broader narrative, I do actually look forward to discussing it in real life!
But just with the people I drink with.

For Damian and me, Yogi Tea might have been enough.
But if you are interested in knowing what it was I showed Damian, and want to be part of me exploring the deeper meaning, the taboos, the reasons this is so sensitive – then we re going to need to become friends.
And we’re going to need plenty of wine. 

<3LSH
An Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living

7-Figure Rock Star Writer

To tell or not to tell is episode 17 of my project 7-figure rock star writer  
The subscribe button to this diary is somewhere on this page

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with the flag in the upper right corner.

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I quit writing (about my love life)

Project M. and in particular its last chapter Like a Prayer is my final diary for an indefinite period of time. 

I ve been writing about my love life, pretty much non-stop, since 2006, the moment I became single. And although it has brought me many things – in particular the opportunity to have relationships that are way out of my league – it has now started to constrict me.
The cage of self-reflection and transparency, that I built to protect myself, has become a prison.
I need to start living, and start experiencing life, without the pen.
Or at least without diary writing/ blogging about my real life.

I m going to use this time to create my four new books

One Dutch book with columns:
Blote Kont
Verhalen over mannen, macht en dagjes uit

One English book with columns:
I M NOT CHANGING MY FUCKING SHOW

One English book about Mistresshood:
The Big Mistress

And one diary 2017-2018, called Reboot.
Which will also include my last diary Project M.