How a Yoni Massage Therapist Helped Me Experience My CNC Kink
CNC, or Consensual non consent, is a fascinating realm of fantasy. I’ve had a CNC kink for a long time. I’ve never actually been sexually assaulted, though I know many women who have, and I’ve always carried a fair amount of guilt for the fact that I have this fantasy of having a stranger force himself on me.
I’m not sure when the fantasy started. I think perhaps in my teens, I started having fantasies about the boys and men who looked at me funny to actually take action on that attraction and make me do something with them that I didn’t necessarily want to do. But I was curious.
I wanted to know what they fantasized about when they looked at my body. I wanted to know what they pictured in their heads when they lusted after me. Did they picture me wanting it? Or did they picture themselves taking it from me whether I wanted it or not? I always suspected the latter. There is such entitlement in the gaze of men. It feels like they feel like you owe them your body.
I remember feeling this way even as a teenager. I could tell that men had a feeling of possessiveness in association with my body that was most definitely inappropriate. They had no shame about allowing their gaze to linger on my teenage tits or my ass. I could practically see them drooling.
This feeling of being lusted after by men always felt like a bit of an intrusion to me. I didn’t welcome that kind of attention. I didn’t invite it. It just came to me, uninvited. I realize, looking back, that this was the relationship that I established with all male sexual attention – I even liked it better when it felt uninvited, because that felt like the norm to me. That felt like how it was supposed to be. Like I was supposed to give it over to men whether I wanted to or not.
Throughout my teens and early twenties, I had a relationship with men in which I would hand myself over to them willingly, believing that that was what they were after from me. I made it easy for them to claim ownership of me sexually, and I didn’t bother to pursue much in the way of sexual interest, myself.
I just wanted to feel like my femininity was useful. I wanted to feel like I was doing it right, like I was embodying my value by allowing myself to be used sexually by men. A lot of the messaging I had received growing up insisted that the most valuable part of me to men was my body and my sexuality, and that I was living in my purpose if I was engaged with men this way.
I started to have fantasies about rape and consensual non consent in my twenties. It wasn’t enough anymore that I was just giving it over to them. I wanted to experience that feeling of it being taken. It really was just the physical embodiment of something I already felt energetically and emotionally.
I had a fantasy of going to a bar on my own, then being cornered and attacked by a man. Now, I realized that this was not an easy fantasy to orchestrate, so my desire was to meet a man at a bar, and be unaware that he followed me home, and then have him charge me at my front door and invade my house.
Do you have a consensual non consent sexual fantasy?
How do you find a man who wants to help you live out this fantasy? Well, I got really lucky and discovered a local man with a yoni massage business. He offers sexual surrogacy and fantasy fulfillment experiences. I knew as soon as I found him that I could describe to him what I was looking for, and he might be able to help me finally have that experience I’d been thinking about for so many years.
I sent him a message and started to describe my fantasy. He asked all kinds of questions, wanted to know what kind of touch I did and did not enjoy, and he wanted to know how much actual sexual gratification I wanted to experience, or if the whole thing was about the force and violation for me. I decided that I did want to experience some sexual gratification, and that after the initial attack, I would surrender to it and let him have his way with my body.
Frankly, I wanted that rather shameful moment to happen where I decide that I am turned on enough by what is happening with a stranger to just enjoy it and maybe even get off on it.
I described to him how I wanted him to follow me home and break into my home from behind me as I was opening my door. I told him I wanted him to treat it like a regular home invasion – that I didn’t want to experience bumps or bruises, but I did want him to use brute force to get me to submit to the sexual touch.
After plenty of discussion of the scenario, I set up a date with him to play it out, where we would meet at a bar, and then I would pretend I didn’t know he was following me home, and that is where we could act out the scene in its entirety, in safety. I didn’t want anyone to see what we were up to and think they needed to call the police or intervene.
When I was at the bar that night, our eyes met when he came in, and he came over to me, asking to buy me a drink. I told him I was okay with one drink. We sat and chatted for a little while, and he was clearly attracted to me, occasionally touching me somehow, which made me a little nervous, but I didn’t create a boundary.
Then I told him I was ready to go home for the evening, and after he tried to convince me to stay for one more drink for a while, I said good night and went to my car.
I knew he was behind me as I headed home, but I kept telling myself I was fooling myself, and everything was fine. I slipped into a role of being fearful, but convincing myself that all was well, and I was just being paranoid. I made it all the way home, and pulled my car into my driveway, and then I got out of the car and went to the door with my keys the way I always would.
I knew in the back of my mind that he would be close and waiting for the right time to come through the door with me. I stuck my keys in the door to open it, and that was when he came up behind me and put his arm around my neck, quickly forcing me inside and shutting the door behind him.
I screamed and fought against him, but he tightened the grip his arm had on my throat, making it hard for me to make much sound. He didn’t waste any time. He pulled me over to my couch, moved my coffee table out of the way with his foot and pushed me face first over the arm of my sofa. With one hand holding my hair hard down on the couch, he started pulling my skirt up over my hips. He ripped my panties down and exposed my pussy and my ass.
What he was doing to my hair really hurt and I cried feeling stuck on the couch there, but I was also wildly excited about the force he was using, and the way he was making me feel violated by adding a bit of pain. Part of me honestly didn’t want it in that moment, and yet at the same time, part of me honestly did. That was a hot, polarized feeling.
He pulled me open by pulling on one of my ass cheeks, so he could get a good look. Then he took his fingers and roughly dipped them into my wet pussy, laughing a little at how wet I was, then tasting my juices before sticking his fingers in deep and finger fucking me roughly for a bit.
I heard him opening his belt and his pants, while he told me to get ready for him to fuck me, and then I felt him start to rub his cock along my pussy lips, looking for the entry point. Finding his target, he shoved himself in all the way, deep and hard, pinning me to the arm of the couch with his full weight.
He fucked me silly over the arm of that couch, and then in several other places around the house, and I thoroughly enjoyed the ability to love it and hate it at the same time. I’m so glad I arranged something like this, so that I could fulfill my CNC kink, in a way that didn’t actually scare me to death! This was a deeply fulfilling experience!