3.8
October 25, 2012

More Than 7 + 1 Ways: A Closer Look. {NSFW} ~ Joice Joker

David’s latest piece 7 + 1 Ways to F*ck a Woman’s Mind divided his readers.

As his partner, I witnessed the tremendous joy from half the women. And forgive me if I sort of side sweep away from worshiping you for this. (I will write a piece just for you.)

To the other half, you caught our attention. We felt the stab deep into our bellies from those opposed to his view.

A rebellion causing an uproar inside, smothering anything beneath the surface that could cause one to feel unsafe. It was interesting, to say the least, to have comments and emails flying in, that were written by both the love-it and hate-it parties.

And that’s fine.

In fact, I encourage us to keep the conversation going. But no. Not that way.

We refuse to fight those of another opinion, because we believe that everyone is entitled to their own happiness, whatever that may be. Besides, I’m not here to tell you we all see and perceive through the same filters. I’m not here to tell you that every viewpoint is an accumulation of the same experiences, education, lifestyle and personal needs. Therefore, everyone, including us, can only be objective and raw when speaking our own truth.

Does that make sense?

What I would like to give you is an insight of how I went from one side to the other. From fear to openness and the courage to surrender, trusting myself to be fine with whatever comes.

This is my story. Written from the heart.

Two years ago I would have responded just like the women who believe that male dominance is just dead wrong. I was convinced to never give in to a man. I couldn’t trust them with my life.

Why? Well, where do I begin? I think I might tell you a little bit about what it did to me to grow up with a mother who was very successful in the corporate world. A mother who went through the feminist movement. Who went through war.

A mother who was dying inside from the lack of connection in her life and from being unable to let herself fall and have a man taking control of the manly things.

She was smart and sexy. And she denied herself the right to feel every emotion fully—every ecstasy—completely and shamelessly. She couldn’t stand any so-called weak emotion. And guess how that affected me?

During my childhood I separated myself from other girls. Too much pink, too girly, too weak. It was a silent agreement, if they left me alone they had nothing bad to expect from me.

I pissed on territory like a guy, I spit like a guy—the only thing I was missing was a cock and balls. For a long time I wished I could grow a super long clitoris and have two women going to work on it.

Don’t worry, it gets worse.

By the time I reached puberty I had no idea how to behave like a girl. Oddly enough I drew in all of the nice guys, who admired me for my strength. But they needed a woman to lean on.

I felt repelled by the weak in men, felt that they were unable to take me on as a woman—and then what would happen?

My PR company was one of the top five sought after image creators. I was tough, I was fierce. And boy, when men stepped into my path there just wasn’t enough space for the both of us.

I ruled the market, ruled my bedroom and emasculated my ex on a daily basis. And all because I had no idea how men (at least the ones I drew in) tick. I thought I had to prove to be all of the above.

And then it all came crashing down. I remember one sentence that echoed in my mind for a long time: “I don’t think you really need me.”

Boom.

He wanted me to allow him to be my hero, to do things for me.

And I wouldn’t let him because I felt that even just a little surrender like that would endanger my income. What if he took over? What if I wasn’t able to work any longer because I felt the craving in my sex? What if, what if, what if….?

I began to study various coaching models, got into NLP, EFT, hypnosis, therapy, sex, the whole package. On my search for the cure of not being able to open up fully, I wore out quite a few men in the past few years.

With each of them I grew and soon outgrew them. The result: I left.

I wanted to feel like a woman, not like a man. I was sick and tired of working my ass off when I could enjoy life differently—more sensually, with more surrendering and more freedom.

Freedom, mostly to be me.

And so here I am. Standing beside this man, who wrote this outrageous article on dominance.

In fact, the article 7+1 had nothing to do with sex, nothing with ecstasy as we describe it today. At least not for those of you who oppose it violently.

I understand this fear deeply. I am myself still not completely rid of it. An existential plane is touched there that suffocates every sense for pleasure, smothers our ecstasy and drives us into a fight or flight response. A plane on which women feel that they cannot surrender to a man completely or they might lose everything. Even the base for a living.

And I’m not speaking of losing a yacht or a mansion. I speak of the fear to lose life. To die from not being able to provide for everything that’s needed to survive.

I feel that this is what you, and we all, fear. And I acknowledge and embrace it wherever I see it.

The only way I can surrender the way David describes, is by knowing that I have my own income, my own business and that when things would go apart, I wouldn’t be without a means to live. Just look where the feminist movement got us. And yet it was a good thing.

First of all, if I wouldn’t have my business any longer, I would die of heartbreak. Secondly, I wouldn’t have anything to fall back on. Us women were put into a tough situation.

On one hand we feel the tickle of surrender’s call. The other side is our identity and life connected to our income and our independence. Our life is in danger when we don’t hold those strings. So we deny it. It would kill us.

The fight to stay alive kills our libido, our desire to even give in to a man, to surrender as described. Could that be true?

Through plenty of trial and error I finally found a way to trust. To trust with a business we both run (we share in equal parts and enjoy it fully) together. And day by day, when he proves he can take care of things, when I no longer have to work inhumane hours (I still do it, but I think it has manifested as a habit. I just can’t do without the work I love.) Now that the load of responsibility is shared, I find myself more and more feeling that this is right. And more and more both businesses grow. And it’s beautiful to watch.

Without the fear of that existential fear, I can surrender in all other aspects of our crazy life. I love the spontaneity, I love the controversial, trusting him with my life, the endless orgasms. And yes, I was scared up until today.

It is my belief that each of you who deeply despised what was written, also felt what I described in some form or another. Correct me if I’m wrong. I love the comments each and every one of you have sent. Yes, some of them were hard to swallow. Some even touched what we suppressed for a long time ourselves.

For the most part it was those comments that personally attacked us that made us grow tremendously. Exactly those comments made us fight as a couple, as we saw our own existence in danger and felt what you felt when you wrote your comment. So we thank you from the heart for this beautiful gift you gave us.

You gave us a more conscious understanding of what is going on by helping us to look at ourselves. I can only repeat myself. But I will say this one thing, forgive me if it sounds harsh: I fucking love you for this.

Call me a crazy-ass, red-haired bitch, I really don’t care. Not about that. But I do care about how you feel about this outrageous article. And I encourage you to step into conversation with us. We welcome it.

And now I’d like to describe what it feels like to live on the side of being fucked in more than just 7+ 1 ways. Deeply. Passionately. Without excuses.

1. Gentleness. You crave it, want it. Allowing the sweetness, the ethereal seduction to penetrate your mind, your spirit. Let it hold you and caress you. Through words of enchantment. Through a faint touch of your soul. Those words, so much more. A gateway to freedom. A gateway to feel alive. And to cum.

2. Melting. He touches you with care, confident, unyielding. In his might he does not waver nor back away. What a delight to fall into those strong arms. What a miracle to have the strength to give in, to let it happen.

3. Surprisingly captured. His firm grip. Your flailing hips and hair and ohhh….penetration. The backward pull. The suddenness. Losing ground. But wait, he holds you. Safe. An earth-shaking shudder. The touch inside. Deliciously violent. Your surrender to the inevitable. And your reward.

4. Slowly. Solid. A slight pain from his touch. Wrists pressed into the surface beneath. Mighty thrusts. Ever so slowly. His eyes holding you in place. More than anything else. A breath. A moan. Thighs swing wide open. So shameless. So free. Just you in a moment of ticklish thundering silence interrupted by sharp breaths.

5. Torturing. The sharp fierceness of biting nails down your ribs. Burning streaks of lust. His merciless grips around your waist. Your futile attempts to escape. No such thing. Somebody help.

6. Raw. Bare. This calling from deep within underneath of layers and layers of personality. Instinctive. Irrational. Just there. Waiting to be unleashed. To burn everything that touches it. The flame of being. Just that.

7. With a heart. A thoroughness soaring through mind, soul and body. The warmth seeping into your heart, between your thighs. All of it in one moment of connecting, locking eyes, feeling. Uncovered emotion under a rim of thick lashes. Ecstasy. What else? Your surrender. An unbearable intensity of it all. The love. The sex. The suspense and thrill and pain and so much more. The body cannot hold it all. A manifestation of an extreme to be expressed, wet, running down your thighs, running down your face. Running….

What a relief.

What a catharsis through orgasm. Over and over and over again. There’s no way around feeling alive, no way around finding the orgasm that shatters everything else into a myriad of pleasurable experiences. Nothing else matters. The hurricane unleashed is the expression of the suffering inside.

Then, liberation through your tears. It feels so good to finally say what this tormenting craving is. To find your voice, to express the longing to be taken in mind, heart, body and soul. To love fiercely, with everything you have. To give fully even when it’s scary. And to be ravished so deeply that the burdens of the past begin to cease.

Refreshingly exhausting.

And then another orgasmic wave flushing every cell of your body, gliding through your soul, leaving you with sensual emptiness, with fulfilling nothingness. The pain? It doesn’t hold its full force any longer.

In bliss you find your tranquility, your peace, your ecstasy. How much joy, relief and peace to be found in a moment of burning intensity, of dancing surrender.

How much healing and permission to just be.

 

Joice Joker and her partner David Esotica work with women to create the ecstatic intimacy in a relationship they crave. They believe in laughing, crying, passion and orgasms. So you can imagine what happens when they talk about sex. Check out Joice’s Facebook pages Red Silk & Joice Joker and her blog Joice Joker.

 

~

Editors: Lara and Lori Lothian

 

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micky Oct 17, 2014 4:10am

Its really simple for me. What you have written makes me want to cry openly…it is like you have just poured out my heart!

Joe Sparks Oct 29, 2012 10:39am

What should sex be? Is it the activity of two thinking minds,or is it something that happens because of compulsions that come out of distress? We could vote on what's out of bounds, what's interesting, what's too dull. None of that is relevant. What is relevant is our minds functioning as human minds together. Then it's up to us to figure it out. Our job is to notice that none of us can think very well in this area, and to begin the work and heal from how society has sexualized us so we get a chance to be completely intimate with someone, our full minds knowing each other, committed to each other, be close physically, and it doesn't have to be sexual. But given what happened to us, it can be difficult. If we were relaxed and pleased with ourselves, it looks like sex isn't a big thing and would not occupy our minds a tenth as much as it does except for the distresses surrounding it and the lack of connection we've been forced to live with.

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