Especially when I can no longer have “sex”?
Trigger Warning. This post contains frank descriptions of bodies, sex, and sexuality.
Well, that’s exactly why. Hetero-normative sex is so deeply ingrained in me, perhaps in most people, that losing the “North Star” of male genitalia has left me wondering what will replace it.
I have never liked having a penis. Even the word grosses me out. I regarded this aspect of my anatomy with at least emotional disdain. Ashamed in part of the pleasure it gave me, resigned to it, but deeply wounded when it proved a necessary tool for coupling with a partner.
A woman who wanted to sleep with me and who ascribed to the patriarchal cis-het sexual norms was really hard for me to have sex with. Her need for me to “be a man,” was really not on. It took me to a place of self-hate, a place of needing to dissociate to be able to perform the act.
My wife was a case in point. Intercourse with her was really hard for me. That spoke for a doomed marriage. Ironically, her predecessor, a woman to whom I was engaged, was totally effed up emotionally, was a pathological liar, but we could have done anything together sexually, because she was so liberated about her body, my body, my presentation, myself, my sexual energy, her own. She had also been an SW. I guess you need both for a successful relationship.
One of the most beautiful things for me about Gender Affirming Hormone Therapy (GAHT) has been the “death” of my penis. Aargh, that word. I am endlessly puzzled (but not judging) about how many trans women like keeping their penises, like using them…I do get how many men are turned on by transgender “chicks with dicks”. It is a trope that is jarring and beautiful at the same time.
I am not such a person. I have not had an erection since I started this process. That is now 6 months plus. I have written about how this has not stopped me from experience release, inadvertent orgasms, felt as much after as in the moment. Two from a reflexologist and one from a Dominatrix who took my self-professed “dead dick” as a professional challenge. Even though she called me a “slut” at one point, and I most resolutely am not, she electrocuted, whipped and pegged my body into orgasmic submission. Mission accomplished.
My reflexologist recently told me that she was single and wanting to play. Yup. And she asked me about my transition, and I told her that I will be up-cycling my [insert dreaded word here] you know what…and she asked, “but won’t that make things complicated?” And I told her of how I hated my ___, and that I found it deeply liberating to not have sex be about that, and to be able to just be with a woman and focus on her pleasure, and to get pleasure from her pleasure. She told me she liked the idea of that. I am curious to see what happens next with her.
But all of this is taking place against a backdrop of how to be with a woman, how to feel my body as a transwoman. And who better to teach me than a Full Service Sex Worker (FSSW)? Nobody really.
You might think it weird to imagine that I have “chosen” such a person based on her politics, but that is the truth. She once posted on her social media that it was time for men to let go of their patriarchal privilege…I grossly paraphrase, but from that post was born the beginning of an interaction that has smouldered for almost a year.
When I did finally approach her, it was for her help to discover my body, her body, and how to give and receive pleasure when the ___ is no longer in the room. I do not yet have a vagina. But I have a lot of skin, tons of emotions, and a growing ability to touch in gentle and sensuous ways, to receive sensation, and to play freed from the constraints of the cxxk.
This is a kind of work that I think can only be done with an FSSW. How can you do such a thing with a GF or wife? Diffficult. A provider, however, is with you and does not judge you. She can be a patient teacher. Most of all, she is a safe place, a warm and receptive learning environment.
I make this distinction from the kind of learning that I experience in the orbit of a Domina, a planet irresistibly pulled by a sun, which seems to be about learning to always bring my best self to life, from this one, which is an important step in my physical, sexual real life where I cannot imagine that long-term I will not find a new partner. After all, I wasn’t in a 25-year relationship with a wife who I genuinely loved and cared for until the day she told me she wanted out, because I am afraid of commitment. I live for it. That’s probably obvious for any reader who has observed that I am a forever slave. Permanence is my kink…and whatever is our kink is who we really are.
Just as an aside, it never fails to bring a smile to the lips of a domme when I say “I’m a baby.” But I most resolutely am. All the rest of this nonsense is just the crazy fantasy of a “little” constructing a hall of mirrors to lead people away from my heart. Few are the people who ever get there—and that has always been my choice—being reluctant to open the door to someone I kiss—somehow it is easy to do it with therapists and strangers.
I am doing it, therefore, to be confident in my sexual self as I have cut away the crutch of manhood and have to learn how to please a woman in this most fundamental way. For those of you who are into FLR or into permanent chastity, changing sex can be the ultimate expression of service. Ex-Mistress and I discussed, played with, explored a concept of sexual and spiritual chastity—all without equipment—I did write about how the cage aspects were simply too male for me, but I love the symbolism. And I am definitely not into humiliation or cuckolding, but ex-Mistress once drove me over the edge by speaking to me in the most lascivious way about an assignation with her bull. That was very untypical for me, but she was good at finding those buttons and pushing them.
The flipside of pleasing her is knowing what it will take to feel pleased on a physical level. It is unlikely that I will ever have an orgasm again. I can take faint hope from other trans-female experiences which does include this, but I don’t really know. I do want to find out, but I suspect that my future orgasms will be even more elusive than a cis-woman’s. But there is a lot of skin to work with, lot’s other things to do. Learning how I respond and learning how I can give, and whether this is more than enough, is something that an FSSW is not only truly expert in, but can also be honest enough about, for it to be a non-judgmental and totally safe place to explore physical pleasure.
I once was a chaste knight, with a life-vow of service. I am no longer a knight, but I am still chaste, now undeniably and forever so. I am the eunuch in the seraglio. An “it”, a “they”, somehow other. I am also a transgender woman. I am still a kitten. Just as filled with mischief and play. The male parts of me to protect, to serve, to be a rock for are still very much there but have been mixed with new and delicious things. Am I handmaiden now? A lady in waiting? Best of all, I accepted as and treated as a friend–there is no greater honour in service.
We become to others how they perceive us. Sometimes you cannot change their perception. If the perception is wrong, dissonant, then at times it may make more sense to find a different friend, but when someone sees you as you are, as you intend, then the bliss that can flow to you is delicious beyond belief. Such people are worth investing in, pouring yourself into, as the filling of their cup will forever also fill yours.