Content Warning: Mentiones of D/s, non-consent fantasies, mentions of mental illness, mentions of menstruation
2020 has, as I’ve mentioned, not been the sexiest year for me. In addition to, you know, global catastrophe that seems to get worse every other day, and my usual depression fun, my online birth control provider switched me to a “generic” of my previous pill, which somehow wreaked havoc on my entire body, including my sex drive. As soon as I switched back to the first birth control in August, my sex drive woke back up. So, I spent a good portion of the year not especially interested in masturbating. This would be fine, except for two things: 1. orgasms are very good for my mental health. 2. I’m a sex toy reviewer.
Now, you would think that health and livelihood would be enough motivation on its own, but no. I’ve spent a good portion of my time going, “Nah, I’m too tired; nah, it takes up too much time; nah, my metamour is home; nah, the wind is coming from the northwest today.” What I’m saying is, excuses: I had them.
So sometimes I had to find ways, reasons, and opportunities to convince myself to masturbate. And I’ll be honest: even now, with my sex drive Active! And! Enthusiastic!, I sometimes struggle to go and just Do The Thing. But I’ve found a few tricks to convince myself to get naked & wild all by my lonesome, and so I shall pass my wisdom on. Some of these, as always, might be more specific to me and my situation (not to mention my brain), but something might resonate with you, too.
Rewarding Myself After
You would think an orgasm would be its own reward. Or at least, you know, improved mental health, and doing my job. Nope! Don’t be ridiculous. There’s no such thing as an intrinsic reward to my dumb ass. External rewards, that’s the secret to doing anything.
“If I go masturbate, then I can read some of my book/play a phone game/watch a show as part of my aftercare!” I tell myself, and then I go to do the thing and, when I’m done, I do just that. Of course, I could just say “fuck it, I’m just going to read my book/play a phone game/watch a show anyway.” Well, everything has a downside.
But still, sometimes it works, and I can get through my tedious masturbation and get back to reading erotica, which is somehow still interesting to me even when my personal interest in sex is limited.
A Powerful Wand
I haven’t done a proper review yet, but when I got my stimulus check, I treated myself to one (1) expensive toy, less because I was interested in it and more because I knew it would be useful for comparing other toys. I picked up a Doxy 3, which is slimmer than other wands and a little lighter, and I got it in Disco Black because if I was going to blow that money, I was going to do it right. I wasn’t sure if I’d like it much, but turns out, I did; more importantly, for our purposes here, I could churn out several very satisfying orgasms in a short time, with very little effort.
What can I say? It’s much harder to convince myself that I don’t have time to masturbate when it takes like two minutes. It’s not my favorite way of masturbating, but when it’s that or I won’t do it? Yeah, it’s much better. It’s also a slightly detached way of doing it; sometimes having a handle between my hand and my junk helps when my brain’s just not that into it.
You don’t have to toss too much money at a wand, either; there are cheaper wands available that might do the trick. While not as powerful, the little Blush Noje 4 wand I reviewed a while back is nice, cute, and has the distance that just might help.
The Doxy 3 isn’t shower-friendly, but other vibrators are. This is actually a double-whammy: when depression makes it hard to shower and to masturbate, doing both at once feels like an awesome cheat. I usually bring my favorite vibrator and use it while my conditioner is sitting, and once I’m done getting several rad orgasms, I can continue to wash the rest of me. And then I forget to rinse out the conditioner, don’t realize it until I’ve dried off, and have to go back in and rinse it off, but that’s beside the point.
This is also super useful when some of my objections to masturbation are physical. The birth control issue has made my spotting ridiculous and unpredictable, and sometimes I just do not want to deal with laundry. So I just leak into the shower and move on with my day.
This doesn’t always work out (Damien and I share a bathroom and I’m not masturbating when they need to take a shit) and sometimes it’s still “too much work,” but my waterproof toys have enjoyed a lot more water this year than ever before.
Obviously, this is specific to me and my 24/7 nonsexual D/s relationship, but LORD does this help sometimes. Even if I don’t want to, sometimes my dearest Daddy dom Damien will say, “Too bad, go masturbate.” I’ve asked them to do this, because we both know it’s better for me to have regular orgasms. And they like to do it, because, hey, they like to dominate me and they like taking care of me!
Of course, Damien isn’t at the peak of mental and physical health at the moment, either, so sometimes this falls by the wayside as well. Nothing’s foolproof. But one of the most memorable things we’ve done in this regard was a very precise masturbation schedule that they set down for me. I had several toys I needed to review, and a difficult time doing so. They got a clipboard, wrote down the dates for the next week, and prescribed exactly which toy I would use on which day.
Even when I’m not feeling my best, I’m an obedient sort of submissive. I used the toys on the required days, and I enjoyed it a lot more knowing I was being a good girl for Daddy. And as a bonus, Damien—whose sex drive isn’t spectacular even at the best of times, but also benefits from the occasional orgasm—also often masturbates on the days I do, so by insisting I do it, they’re taking care of themselves…and by following through, I’m helping to take care of Daddy. Mutual win!
I’m the kind of person who indulges in fantasies much of the time anyway, sexual or otherwise. This naturally means that when I masturbate, it’s pretty easy to find or figure out a fantasy to suit my mood, and the ones I seem to indulge in a lot when I’m not quite feeling it are variations on forced orgasm or non-consensual use.
Sometimes I indulge in a story of a loving dom consensually forcing an orgasm with the above-mentioned wand, and not relenting until I beg to stop. Sometimes—especially if I have to test a toy—I call up a sinister scientist who straps me down and tests these terrible implements on me whether I like them or not. (Actually, considering how much I hated a few of the toys I tested this year, I suppose I’m basically doing that anyway. Be the sinister scientist you want to see in the world.) There are plenty of variations on the theme, but they all have one thing in common: I have to do this, whether I want to or not.
Honestly, when I was younger I would clean my room while pretending an evil witch was forcing me to clean for her. Sometimes I think I’ve never really changed, except now I’m more sympathetic to witches.
The wonderful thing about all of these tools is that I can mix-and-match them as needed. Maybe Damien can force me to go masturbate in the shower. Maybe I can grab a wand, conjure up a forced orgasm scenario, and afterwords treat myself to a few more chapters of At Home by Bill Bryson. In fact, combinations often make for a more foolproof plan; if I tell Damien how I’m planning to reward myself, I’m accountable, and won’t just watch the video instead of masturbating. If I’m masturbating in the shower, a bunch of non-con fantasies just present themselves.
I’m still navigating through all of this, as we all are. And I’m sure there are tricks I’ve used that I forgot, or methods I’ll still discover. But I’ve managed to figure something out, at least, and that’s much better than consistently talking myself out of it and just binge-watching Boy Meets World instead. My mood does improve after I’ve had an orgasm or five, and it stays better for several days. And under normal circumstances—and, indeed, once I can convince myself to go even now—I love masturbating. I love what my body can do, and I love spinning out a fantasy for myself, and I love that I’m always a little sore the next day from my muscles clenching up.
Sometimes, I just have to remind myself.
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