The Role Of Ravishment.

This post will probably spend most of its word count on disclaimer, but today ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to discuss Rape-Play.

Firstly, I am a firm believer in each to their own. Everyone has little sexual quirks and if they claim not to, they are either lying or in denial, or would be my worst choice of sexual partner.

Secondly, I am sharing with you my experiences and the experiences of others that are all consenting adults. Any game I play with my partner is never done so under the influence of alcohol or substances. If any of the following takes your fancy, please don’t just surprise it on your significant other, it has to be discussed first. Don’t just fashion a balaclava and creep up on her during the wee small hours and shout boo, she is likely not to be appreciative.

Thirdly, please don’t attempt to throw the domestic violence, sexual abuse or misogynist “card” at me. I fully sympathise with any form of victim but cannot see how acting as prey in my very own personal space with a person who is in full character, is any way linked.

So as a full hit…

… There is a big difference between rape fantasies, and real rape. In a fantasy, you can decide what occurs, and no one is actually hurt. I do not endorse rape, violence against women or blackmail in any way and all blog content herein is supplied for entertainment purposes only. I understand the difference between fantasy and reality, and understand that rape is an abhorrent crime.

Pheww, okay, so yeah, rape-play…

I’ve always liked to play-fight so perhaps it started there. Tumbling about, pinning down, tickling, scrambling and scrabbling to get away, there’s something about it, it always made me horny. I remember a BBQ filled with family friends and children. I was “attacked” by my friend’s husband with a toy Power Ranger sword and a battle quickly commenced. Things turned boisterous, when the shoving and wrestling began.  I had to concentrate to refrain from “doing” my friend’s husband right there on the lawn. I think I just like the struggling sensation?

I’ve always fantasised about Rape, silly little scenarios in my head, nothing too daring or obscene but really wanted to experiment with role-play, however at the time I was in a crappy long relationship with a dreary sex-life. As things were coming to an end, during a desperate attempt to spice things up, I built up the courage to suggest something along the lines of forcing and fighting, then may have said “in a rapey.”  He said I had ISSUES!

It’s pretty difficult to suddenly suggest midway through a relationship something that is pretty “out-there.” Maybe the partner feels inadequate or embarrassed, even suspicious of the motives behind change and seems to struggle with sexual development during a relationship rather than embracing it. So going forward with new lovers, I made my sexual intentions clear.

Currently I am in a relationship where the other half fully understands my preferences. He willingly holds his hand over my mouth and nose, while gripping me from behind and whispering into my ear.

I haven’t bothered to research anything to do with women’s rape fantasies and the psychology behind it, largely due to not caring. My motivation is pleasure and it was something that appealed to me somewhere along the line, inspiring me to bring the fantasy to life. I was never something suggested to me or encouraged.

According to the interweb, practitioners refer to the game as ravishment which sounds much zealous than rape and in my experience, playing such games of abuse are always fueled with such enthusiasm and emotion, that it feels more passionate than ordinary sex.

I have delved into this game with different levels of intensity.

Sometimes it is a wriggle as his weight shifts over mine, his hands stroking my legs before pushing them open, , futile attempts to try to push his hands away and turning my head as he forces his tongue  into my mouth. Sometimes it’s his grip around my wrists as my hands get pinned back above my head, he calls me names like bitch or whore as my wrists fit into one of his palms, it clenching around tighter, freeing his other hand to pull down my knickers. My legs kick and my arms try to pull and release. I’m fighting back and saying no, it just arouses him more.

I’m not a fan of shouting or anger, I love the sinister whispers, his breath violating my ear. His fingers push inside me then move to my mouth to cover my protests. My game can change, I can play the mortified victim throughout the attack or I could be the slut, who deep down wanted and deserved it all along. Slapping features heavily, pain isn’t my bag but lose of control is. My face slapped or maybe my breasts. Sometimes my legs may be pushed open further and his hand hits between. My inner thighs have been hit hard repeatedly too, every time I attempted to move after he had snarled at me to remain still.

It could be a sleepy text from bed asking him to make use of me when he arrives upstairs but to leave me asleep.  It’s not just about a brutal rape scene with violence and thrashing, it’s about manipulation too , abuse, preying on the vulnerable. It’s not always a physical thing but very wordy. Calculating filth pouring out of his mouth, pushing my boundaries further and further.

Back to play fighting, Its always guaranteed to get the juices flowing. I think it was my first force playing. A partner messing about asking me to lift my top up and I declined, then trying to lift my top up while I complained. It turned into rolling about on the bed until I was stuck in a position where my top was over my head, my hands were restrained,  my knickers had been yanked down and he was copping a feel of wherever he wanted, my face flushed with anger but undeniably wet as anything.

Occasionally the game has been played outside before and I have been held against a tree in a small patch of wasteland in daylight, close to pedestrians and dog-walkers, my denim skirt pulled up over my hips and my knickers pushed aside, his hand around my throat squeezing to stop my protests, getting tighter and tighter, lifting me until I was standing on tiptoe. Knickers being pushed aside or ripped off is such a winner.

I’ve been encouraged to walk along a secluded path late at night, alone. I could hear his footsteps behind me and could feel my adrenalin flurry. I hate being chased. When you feel the arm wrap around your chest dragging you backwards, you are not 100% sure that it is definitely your partner. You look for any sign, smell, voice or glimpse, but you get nothing.  I was knocked to the floor, face down and felt slightly winded. I could feel my eyes filling with tears as I still wasn’t sure who was doing this to me but the overwhelming tingles between my legs increase with intensity with each twist and turn.

Forced blowjobs are usually part of the sport.  I love having my hair yanked, it tousled around his fingers so I can’t pull away and my nose held until I HAVE to open my lips for a split second.  He is always too quick for me and as I gasp for breath, his cock is thrust deep into my mouth. Face fucking is a more appropriate term as I am little more than an orifice as his hips do all the work. I’m simply held still. The more saliva produced, for him, the better. He gets off on the choking sounds, the gurgles as my throat closes around him.

The comical downside of forced oral sex is on more than one occasion (twice) it has turned into a vomit fest…

Pushed to my knees, he was towering over me. Gripping my hair and positioning my face so he could grind his hips and fuck my mouth quickly and deeply, we were mid-game and mid-afternoon. He had been a darling and made me brunch (cooked breakfast) and I was having to really concentrate with my breathing to fight the baulking reaction. I couldn’t contain it any longer and I felt the burn as my mouth filled with sick. His groin continued pumping his cock harder between my lips and I could feel the vomit escaping out of the corners of my mouth. I thought I was safe, that he wouldn’t be able to see the chunks of sausage and beans escaping onto the laminate floor beneath me. I tried to kick the sick under my bed to escape embarrassment, my dirty thoughts now turning to a brain storming session on how to cover up the situation. Next thing I heard roars of laughter. I was mortified that he would think I was  revolting or incapable. Turns out he was proud of himself and his penis.

It’s not about pain for me and even though rare,  the most I have suffered is bruising, usually to my hips if I have been pressed against a table on an awkward angle for some time or my stupid wooden bed-frame has sometimes gotten in the way. The alcohol abstaining is a personal recommendation. In the early hours after drinking a fair bit we got pretty rough, we both hit, him slapping me harder than usual and me retaliating when I could. We thought nothing of it and I awoke late evening and went straight out clubbing in a strappy dress. The bruises developed, leaving hand marks on my neck, shoulders and face and my arms and legs were fully mottled. The alcohol had numbed any contact for me and he had not realised his strength. Although there was luckily no injury, I had to cover and hide for a few days and had a fair bit of explaining to do to my mate who was accompanying me.   Since then we always avoid really physical play or breathing games when we are boozing.

There are so many variants of this game I have played with various play-mates. Utensils have been used for affect such as the wrong side of a knife being held close to my throat, ties or belts for restraints, tape and blindfolds are usually a favourite of mine.

Below are controversial images from  advert campaigns featured in high-fashion magazines and billboards supposedly implying various assortments of abuse.  Pretty huh.

As with masturbation, I wonder how many women really partake in this role-play, I’m betting more than let on. If Dolce and Gabbana want to spend a large fortune on rape-based advertising hoping to appeal to women, maybe ravishment isn’t that risqué at all. Is it a taboo that people don’t discuss? I know friends who say they like rough sex and being flung about, so is that code? Is there much of a difference?

But for me, at the right time, with the right person…

NO… means maybe?

About cuntychoppalops

Blunder cunt - An old school definition meaning one who takes a long time to accomplish an objective due to an easily distracted mind.
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23 Responses to The Role Of Ravishment.

  1. RichardAtUCT says:

    Wow! What and entertaining/informative/arousing read!

  2. Rachel says:

    Oooh I liked this! And yeah it’s fine I’m pretty sure loads of women do it when they’re in secure relationships. A favourite of mine was the catholic school girl and the vicar. Fucked up? A little bit. xxx

  3. Joe says:

    Fascinating post as usual. Anyway, sometimes I wonder where exactly the line is going to be drawn for me. Because, whilst reading, I was thinking, “whatever, if people can have a fetish for breast-milk, what’s a bit of rape-play? To each his own.”

    But then I got to the end where you question how common the fantasy is. I must say I’m definately partial to being ‘flung about.’ However, for me it’s definately not code, but it does perhaps raise the spectre that maybe, just perhaps, I might enjoy it. Who knows?

    • I’m sure most like it on some level, even if it’s play fighting, tumbling about and being pinned down. As long as they are happy with whatever level they are at. Thanks for the comment!

  4. Ruth says:

    OK, I have thought about this, and like you, I’m more of a numbers and less of a words person, so forgive me if this is not expressed properly. It’s also important to note that the word ‘rape’ conjures a totally abhorrent mental picture for me, which is not in the least arousing. ‘Ravishment’ on the other hand….

    The crucial difference between male and female rape fantasy and why one is more disturbing than the other is centred on three things. The first is that any woman intuitively knows the difference between a fantasy or play version of rape and the real thing, at least where it concerns themselves. A man knows the difference too, but the boundary is less clear cut – there’s some room for doubt, and a victim can be created in that grey area.

    The second difference is about power, which is also apparently what rape is all about. In fantasy/play, the woman has the power. She sets the boundaries and clearly surrenders a portion of that power as part of the fantasy, giving him permission to behave in a certain way. In a real rape a woman is robbed of all power in a cruel and demeaning way. The power lies entirely with the man and the woman’s concurrent lack of power is demonstrated in the way in which he claims and asserts it.

    Finally, there’s the potential to turn fantasy in to reality. No matter how vivid your fantasy, you’re extremely unlikely to go walking around at night on the off-chance that you might get raped. It’s a fundamentally different thing to the game you play with your partner. A man with rape fantasies on the other hand could conceivably go beyond thought and even consensual play. I certainly don’t believe that all men are rapists or even have the vaguest potential to be rapists, but some are and do, and that’s why knowing that a man had those fantasies would trouble me.

    • I agree with the differences between fantasy and reality with rape. Speaking to a male who plays at request of his female partner, so not necessarily his thing, but eager to please and enjoys it all the same, he points out that the motivation behind the two acts are very different. Rape is about power and control, there is nothing sexual about it. Were as the role-play is totally about sex and desire.
      I really can’t understand how a typical male who likes to be dominant during sex with a partner he has had for years, who pins her down and shouts at her, knowing full well it arouses her, would suddenly think it is okay to carry out the same acts with a non-consenting stranger in the street. If a man had a fantasy about being the submissive one with a dominant female taking advantage, which according to my male colleagues, is pretty common, I don’t expect them to go and beg random woman walking down a dark path at night, alone, to physically abuse him. It’s the same with any fantasy or quirk, take spanking for example. A man fantasises about spanking a woman, then carries it out consensually. He then doesn’t think it gives him licence to do the same to any woman without permission. I think men deserve a little more credit then some are giving them.

      • Ruth says:

        I completely agree with you and certainly don’t think that a man who joins in the consensual play will suddenly turn into some sort of serial rapist. I’m just trying to understand why there is undoubtedly a difference in how acceptable the same fantasy would be coming from a woman or a man. Obtuse Musing’s point about perceptions is also a cracker.

      • We will see, I have hopefully managed to convince a few men to put their point across this evening and explain for themselves. If I wrote a post about being dominant during various types of role-play and sexual games, would it again be offensive if was a male fantasy? Or is is just when the word rape is used?

      • Imagine the male bashing when I post about playing “school-girl!”

      • Ruth says:

        On reflection, I think it completely is just the word rape. Damn, that could have saved me a lot of typing!

      • I think females maybe think they have to immediately go on the defensive or feel guilty when that word is mentioned. I’m terrible I use it all the time. Text the husband from the shop to say I have just been financially, anally raped in Tesco when I see how much the food shopping is when I take a tribe.

  5. Rapeplay is safe in the right hands and it goes hand in hand with other fetishes like breathplay and CBT to name a few. All rape-play is, is a safe form of domination between consenting adults (but don’t tell the police as they have gone Nazi with the Extreme Pornography Act). I have partaken on both sides of this fantasy and I enjoy it as will anyone else with a sensible and mature attitude to sex.

    Men (for easy reasons really) are so much harder to come around to this style of sex though as they are so vulnerable afterwards due to the way the media and the authorities portray this but at the end of the day I’d rather go out achieving an orgasm than being fisted by the people who are supposed to serve us.

    • Breath-play is another thing I do all the time. I love it but it is definitely more his thing and there are times when I can’t be bothered with it and I have to swot him away. Mainly because I think there is a connection to my sore throats (a random bit of information.) The people that tend to be critical, would probably love to be passionately flung across their coffee table by their perfect man and who the hell has never taken part in playfighting as an adult! It is impossible to do it and not get aroused?

      • His thing? It’s not supposed to be anything for him but all for you as it heightens your orgasm the closer to breathlessness you get. If you aren’t getting anything from it but he is then it may be time to take a look at the way it is being done.

      • I always get something from it, but sometimes can’t do it due to gob-rot, he will still attempt it and I have to swot him away. He likes the power thing of it, I like the breathlessness. It’s definitely a two way thing, he gets out of it too. Every person I have done that with has also got something from it.

        Ooo I could do a post on erotic asphyxiation

      • You might have to. Twitter and blogs do lack literate and thoughtful perverts like yourself and I.

  6. Brad Hammers says:

    I like to beat my wife.

    There’s clear limits – I wouldn’t dream of slapping her anywhere other than in bed, and there’s no way either of us would accept calling the other a cunt in the middle of Tesco.

    But at the same time, knowing that – in a controlled situation! – I have someone who is going to succumb to my every whim, do whatever I want, allow me total control, is a huge turn on. I can’t explain “why”, in the same way I can’t explain why fishnet stockings are hot, but microwaves aren’t.

    I do worry about her, but we know that there’s either a safeword, or she can tap firmly on anything and we stop, instantly. So far, she has never done either. The hugs afterwards are hugely intense and we feel closer, almost as though we’ve been through something together.

  7. I was very delighted to discover this site on bing.I wished to say thanks to you with regard to this excellent read!! I surelyliked every little bit of it and I’ve you bookmarked to have a look at new stuff you post.

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