By Kendra Holliday | March 1, 2021
Ed Note: This post details my personal experiences with sexual trauma.
I’ve been with hundreds, if not thousands, of sexual partners. Some have been AMAZING, and most have been good. A few have been BAD, and a few have been ugly.
To be clear, I’m an experienced professional, and based on what my partner is seeking, I try my best to deliver. Some men want an entertaining diversion, a frolicsome romp into the realm of female energy. Some men want to learn how to be good lovers. Some men want validation and healing.
I usually use a soft, sexy voice to instruct and redirect: “Gentle, please. Oh yes, I like that.” Sometimes, I choose to endure irritating groping, or I’ll grimace my way through a dry fingerbanging, the man treating my vagina like a chainsaw he’s priming. Occasionally, I’ll exclaim “ouch!” or a stern “No!” if, for instance, he’s trying to stick it in without a condom, but for the most part, I don’t want to spoil the moment or damage his confidence.
All that said, here are three times I straight up screamed during sexy time:
1. Years ago, I was on a date with a man. He was going down on me. I was lying there, relaxed and feeling good, when all of a sudden, he bit down hard on my clit!
I screamed! WTF?!
I gasped, “Why did you do that?!”
He replied, “The last woman I was with liked when I did that.”
Are there any women reading this who like having their clit chomped on? I’m sure some do, but most DO NOT. Always err on the side of caution when experimenting with sensation. Ask for preferences. Go slow. Start with less pressure or sensation and watch for body language and feedback.
I never went near this man again. I associated him with distrust and pain.
2. In 2018, I was going through a rough time, so I was distracted and my defenses were down. I agreed to let a young man from Indiana visit me for a session. I had screened him with a phone call, and he had given off some weird vibes. Normally, I never agree to be intimate with someone sight unseen, but like I said, I was in a bad place and grieving a loss, so I gave less fucks.
As the man drove hours to St Louis, I felt mounting dread. I had asked him what he was into, and he replied ominously, “You’ll know when I get there.”
I was so nervous by the time he knocked on my door. I took a deep breath, and opened the door.
He stood there, chiseled and handsome, with eyes like a serial killer. If you’ve ever watched true crime shows, you know that look – flat, steely, vacant.
I maintained control of the situation, until I no longer could.
It turns out, he was into the rough sex he watched on extreme porn. With zero negotiation, he tossed me around like a rag doll and put me in all kinds of positions to drill me every which way. Every time he repositioned me, I thought, “This could be it.” I was in survival mode, just trying to get through it.
Finally, he was throat fucking me. It went on for so long, I felt like I was trying to stay on a bucking horse. Finally, it got too intense, and I screamed. But I couldn’t breathe, so the scream turned into puke, and I puked all over his dick.
That finally got his attention. He stopped. I wiped him with a towel and pleaded, “Please jerk off on me.”
So he did. As soon as he came, he turned into a different person. He immediately relaxed, and his eyes turned human and sparkling.
“Whew, I sure needed that,” he remarked.
We sat and chatted for about fifteen minutes, and then he left.
I was TRAUMATIZED. I couldn’t believe I survived it. That was one of the scariest experiences in my life.
Months later, he contacted me, requesting another session, and I immediately informed him I was no longer available to see him. LEARNED MY LESSON.
3. I agreed to see a man who was very inexperienced and wanted to learn how to be a good lover to women. We met once a week for a month, and I walked him through all kinds of techniques. We had open communication, and he was doing well.
A few weeks later, he requested another session, so I agreed. Practice is always good.
It had been weeks since he had touched a woman, and he was in a frenzy. We were standing there hugging. I removed my bra, and turned away from him, so he could embrace me from behind.
Suddenly, he grabbed my breasts so hard, I screamed.
I’ve had many men touch my breasts in bad ways – I’ve always wanted to teach a class called “Breast Handling 101.” A lot of men are grabby, or twiddle nipples, or squeeze or manipulate the flesh like it’s a machine with buttons.
But this was straight up vicious, and he wasn’t even being mean! He was just overcome with passion. When I screamed, he apologized and told me he was just playing around.
I told him he needed to be more careful when touching a woman. I compared a woman’s breasts to a man’s testicles. I assured him that all women are different, but he should start off with light touching and progress to more firm, and if a woman likes a firmer touch, she will let you know.
Again, err on the side of caution.
I had purple finger bruise marks all over my breasts for a week afterward. Ouch!
When he contacted me to schedule another session, I gave him honest feedback. It was my duty – if I had been a woman just dating him, I would have cut him off, forever associating him with shocking pain. He took my words with maturity and grace, and we had another session. He did better this time.
There are a few interesting things to note about all three of these encounters. One, my pussy got very wet in each case. It went wet with fear, not arousal. I think it was a defense mechanism, like an opossum pissing itself when cornered. Second, none of the things that made me scream involved vaginal or anal penetration. One involved my clit, one involved my mouth, and one involved my breasts. And third, there was no drinking or drugs involved with any of these situations.
Also, the times in my life when I’ve been raped, I did not scream. I said no and whimpered and pushed away and froze, but I did not scream or fight. I just tried to get through the assault with as little damage or fanfare as possible.
The truth is, almost every man I share intimate space with is much stronger than me and can overpower me if they want to.
I’m incredibly grateful to all the men who respect boundaries and care about the comfort and safety of the women they are with. Thank you for respecting the gift of female energy, entry into a sacred space. It’s easy to understand why so many women guard their personal bubble so zealously. This is why women hesitate to even meet a man.
Most men mean no harm, but sometimes, things can get carried away. I’ve experienced firsthand men being overcome with passion and causing harm. I call it being “dick drunk.” Lust or testosterone? jams up their system, and they go into auto-penis-pilot. When I ask them afterward what they were thinking when they got “caught up in the moment”, they have trouble explaining.
To summarize, I want you to think about what attracts women, and what repels women.
Comfort, safety, patience, communication attract women. Keep your wits! Pay attention.
Harm, force, eagerness, lack of communication repel women.
Unless you negotiate a scene involving pain and sensation, your default should be gentle vanilla sex.
Do you agree? Have you ever been mentally or physically harmed during sex? How did you get through it? Did you maintain a relationship with the person afterward?