INTRODUCING – ‘Artemis’, the Aspec-Pride soap!

Organic, all-natural, homemade handcrafted soap using shea butter and coconut oil! These bars create a quick, sweet-smelling lather that’s gentle enough for normal-to-sensitive skin.

This soap is crafted after the image of Artemis, who is known as the ‘Virgin Goddess’ in Greek and Roman mythology. She is famous for rejecting her many suitors, sometimes to the point of danger upon herself. She (and her followers) took vows of chastity as a loving coven. She’s considered the patron and protector of young women, hunters, wild animals, and childbirth.

Each soap is crafted to protect the absence of gender loving, and to celebrate asexual pride! Artemis was a fierce protector of her nymphs and followers, and she would gladly risk her life to keep her friends safe. Bask yourself in the protection of the virgin Goddess!

Available in four different unique scents;

  • Original scent ’Acetyne’ (Chocolate, Buttermilk, Vanilla, Cinnamon) 
  • Grey-Asexual scent ’Titanium’ (Tea Tree, Eucalyptus, Lemongrass, Red Ginger) 
  • Demisexual scent ’Persephone’ (Chocolate, Peach, Geranium, Green Cognac) 
  • Aromantic scent ’Alphaea’ (Lemon, Lilac, Violet, Frankencense, Ylang Ylang) 
  • Queerplatonic Pide scent ‘Gautama’ (Mint, Bamboo, Jasmine)

Check these soaps out on etsy.com! The entire pride soap series is available for sale!

image

Famous Canonical A-Spec Characters

fuckyeahasexual:

Monkey D. Luffy, the protagonist of One-Piece, the best-selling manga ever in history.

Jughead Jones, a world-famous character from the classic comic series Archie.

Raphael Santiago, a major character in the popular TV show Shadowhunters.

Todd Chavez, the deuteragonist of the popular animated cartoon Bojack Horseman.

Daryl Dixon, a main character from the popular TV show The Walking Dead.

Daud, the villain protagonist from the popular video game franchise Dishonored.

Asexual Sex-Ed: The Dom

image

When it comes to aces and sex, there’s these huge discussions going left and right. Every ace has their own feelings about sex, and having sex with other people in any context. I’ve talked to many aces (and partners of aces), and I’ve often said that being in a ‘dom’ role can really help reduce sex repulsion and anxiety while also offering sexual stimulation.

Asexual sex-ed is virtually non-existent, which means that aces are often left with limited information, and therefore limited options. But options exist. BDSM with aces may seem like a surprising match, but when you think about it, it really isn’t. 

Aces being active in BDSM isn’t without precedent. Kink is especially alive and kicking in the lgbt+ community as a whole, and BDSM in particular is known for being therapeutic. It’s common for those who’re living with trauma to pursue BDSM as a way to cope. And for aces who are sex-repulsed, and/or struggling with their sexuality and libido, BDSM can be an excellent choice.

So I’ve written a BDSM post about asexuality and doms, which is almost completely based off of my own experience of being a dom. I encourage everyone to pursue this information, regardless of their own sexuality or feelings on sex. This is information that needs to be more readily available to the community.

You can also check out my other asexual sex-eds – on masturbating, consent, sexual health, and mental self care. I’m no licensed doctor – I’m writing based solely on my own experience. My words are just one voice in what hopefully will soon be a menagerie of ace sex ed.

(Be warned, pictures to explicit imagery will be linked. This text post contains no explicit imagery.)

What Is A Dom?

Short answer; a ‘dom’ is the other half of a dominant-subservient sex powerplay. It’s a heavily narrative role that uses acting to make a fake scenario of someone being under the ‘control’ of the other. 

A BDSM coupling can manifest in several different ways, depending on the party. For some, it’s just their normal sex routine, except with a few ‘yes, mistress’’s thrown in. For others, it’s being encased in a latex bodybag, and left to lie still for several hours while your dom does their laundry and buys their groceries.

That diversity exists amongst aces, too. As you meditate and practice your sexuality, you’ll learn what works for you, and what doesn’t. For allosexuals, their preference for BSDM is heavily dependent on what gets them off. For us, it’s more about what makes us feel safest.

Setting Up For The Dom Role

Every sub/dom session starts with words. A lot of them. If you want to play the dom role in a sexual situation, you can’t just bring it up in a casual conversation, and then leave it at that. Even if you’ve done it before. Even if they’ve done it before. Even if you’ve known each other for years. Even if you feel like they’ve ‘got’ it. A BDSM session requires a lot of planning and consent beforehand.

A good, solid script for a sub/dom session goes something like this;

  1. Asking whether your partner interested, or willing, to partake in a submission role.
  2. Exchanging possibilities and scenarios that you’re both interested in.
  3. Exchanging limitations and no-nos.
  4. Exchanging aftercare methods (more on aftercare below).
  5. Laying down a plan, or a schedule, for the session. AKA, you begin with (this), then continue to (this), and end with (this). The more thorough the plan, the better and safer (and smoother!) the session will be.

As a sex-repulsed ace, I only take booty calls from dating sites or from acquaintance referrals. And since I insist on only allowing BDSM sex, I have gone through multiple versions of these scripts throughout my dating experience. And no one has ever reacted as if I was being too finicky, or particular, with this consent process.

Even with some random Okcupid date, I will insist on a Skype call or a facetime, so the sub will see my face outside the domspace (more on domspaces and subspaces down below) as we lay down the rules. 

For example; I got a message from someone that literally only said; “will u beat me up sometime pls thx sorry”. This message was from someone who was a) my age, b) also trans, and c) was a 97% match. So of course, I responded with a solid; “are u looking for a dom? (being serious)”.

And as the conversation continued, my date went on to describe in several paragraphs what they wanted. 

someone who can stuff me into a hole intellectually {…} and is good with manipulating power dynamics. not necessarily trying to fuck, mostly looking for the psych bit and some nonsexual physical stuff / seems like there’d be a lot to work with given your lack of interest in sex generally if you decided intercourse was appropriate. what’s really important for me (turns out, maybe this is where i’ve self sabotaged before) is not having to tell the person how specifically to force my submission. very much would prefer dom to be able to figure that bit out given whatever volunteered biographical-type information was exchanged beforehand.

In the BDSM community, you’re much more likely to find people who will gladly write pages upon pages of what they want, in explicit (and often poetic) detail. Which can be very annoying if you attract the attention of white cis men in their 40′s who want to be the next Christian Grey. 

But that’s good news for you lovelies. As an ace dom, you’ll have very little trouble with bluntly listing your limits and desires, or finding partners willing to partake. I’ve never met a willing sub that was put off, or unaccepting of my asexuality.

Tools, Toys, And Tricks – For The Asexual

You’ve probably seen the wooden paddles and braided ropes and satin blindfolds. Many of them have been carefully designed to minimize injury while also maximizing physical sensation. Spanking with a paddle, for example, will often start with a soft, small model before continuing into using a hard wooden one. This is to make sure there’s adequate bloodflow to the buttcheeks to increase sensitivity, while also reducing the pain.

But to an ace perspective, those leather handcuffs aren’t just to tie up your partner and excite them, it’s also a good way to constrain their hands so you don’t have to deal with their touch on your body. A blindfold will give you privacy. Mouth gags will prevent any intrusive dialogue that might make you uncomfortable.

As with all things involved in the bedroom, you first need to make sure that the tools are body safe. There’s no government regulation on sex toy materials, which means you could potentially end up with bacteria-laden silicon, or toxin-infected plastics. Buy from trusted brands, or reputable suppliers.

Especially useful bondage tools include restraints that go under the bed, flexible velcro cloth handcuffs, and ropes made out of soft, natural cotton (instead of itchier polyester).

Another BDSM tool that is particularly helpful for the ace are chasity toys. The chasity BDSM subculture is essentially orgasm denial with powerplay. And to an ace, it’s a good way to limit the use of sexual organs. Chasity toys are usually geared towards penises, in the form of cages that prevent erections. Vagina equivalent are usually belts that block the entire pelvis

Like with all sex, toys and tools aren’t limited to one niche. Instead of buying brand-name fluffy handcuffs, you can very well make do with a random piece of fabric tied loosely around the wrists. In my experience, using bondage tools are a reliable way of reducing sexual contact while also pleasing your sub partner. 

Your Relationship With The Sub – What Is ‘Power?’

At its core, a BDSM session is mostly for the sub’s benefit. While there’s real elements of control, ultimately a sub/dom coupling is done to please the sub primarily, rather than the dom. That’s why people hire dominatrixes – some white-collar lawyer may not even be touched throughout the entire session, but they’re really into being whipped and verbally degraded during their lunch break. Meanwhile, the dominatrix is thinking about which curtains they should use for the living room.

The same goes for ace BDSM. Regardless of your reason for partaking in a scene, the sub is your center of attention. This means you can’t, like, just go through a BDSM session and come out feeling like you mastered your repulsion once and for all. And no amount of amazing sex will ‘cure’ you of asexuality.

For aces, the appeal of being a dom is a way to partake in sexual activity while minimizing discomfort. Even if you aren’t sex repulsed, aces often struggle with our ability to consent to sex. Being a dom is a way to have power over the situation.

But as said, the sub/dom relationship doesn’t involve complete power. The idea of a dominant sexual partner is a facade. That’s why BDSM is enjoyable – the sub’s wrists may actually be tied up and cemented to the bedpost under lock and key, but a dom is completely under the will of a sub’s consent. If that sub decides to release their hands from those shackles, you have no power to overrule that.

Being a dom isn’t about envisioning your repulsion as tied up and subdued, and going through this therapeutic night of whipping your problems into shape. Most of the time, being an asexual dom just means that you have a good excuse for leaving all your clothes on, and not allowing yourself to be sexually stimulated. 

We all have our reasons for wanting to have sex. Perhaps, as a sex-repulsed ace, you actually do enjoy sex but experience anxiety afterwards. Or perhaps you’re struggling with hypersexuality. Regardless the reason, you can’t expect BDSM to be a fix-all anymore than you can expect any possible method of therapy or socialization to be a wondercure.

Sub/Dom ‘Space’ – For The Ace

Entering a ‘subspace’ is basically shorthand for ‘entering a heightened state of emotions due to getting really into the scene’. When you Google ‘subspace’, you’ll get a diverse collection of descriptions of what it means to enter subspace. Everyone’s subspace is different – for some people, subspace is when your body is over-stimulated, leaving you cloudy-headed and weak. For others, subspace is a very psychological sensation that’s akin to dissociation, or a hypnotic trance.

On the other end, there’s ‘domspace’. Like subspace, it’s an altered state of mind where you experience yourself differently. Some describe their domspace as like an emotional high, or heightened emotions. Some describe it as a spiritual experience that channels a reservoir of power. 

For those familiar with BDSM practices, subspace and domspace are words to describe what might happen during a scene. Some people trigger their space with practice and with enthusiasm, some never experience a state that they’d describe as either.

For the ace dom, experiencing domspace is a real possibility. But it’s more dangerous for us; a lot of the time, having sex as an ace means consenting to a language that you don’t share with your partner, and therefore the laws of consent are bent. In that scenario, entering an altered state of mind isn’t an ideal state to be in.

An ace’s domspace wouldn’t be something to retreat towards, it’s something to closely reign and keep in check to make sure you reduce any confusion. You don’t want to lose your sense of self while in a dangerous situation.

I’ve personally never experienced anything like a ‘domspace’, but the idea alone has made me think long and hard about my asexuality and its relationship to being a dom. It’s something you should think about to, if you chose to pursue it.

Aftercare And Self-Care

‘Aftercare’ is big in the BDSM community. And in the sex world in general. Aftercare is the term to describe ‘caring’ for your partner after a sex scene is over and done with, to ensure good mental health and physical wellbeing. Sometimes, that just means snuggling and soft words of comfort. For BDSM, that could mean bandages, ice packs, and so on.

Aftercare is essential in a sub/dom scenario, and its common for the aftercare to last longer than the session. Without aftercare, all parties risk huge health risks, not limited to physical injuries, mental trauma, and emotional stress. You can’t go overboard with aftercare.

For a basic rundown of aftercare;

  • The first thing people usually need is water. Often, people will drink water throughout the session, but sometimes people get so into it, they don’t realize that their throat is actually parched until it ends.
  • Give yourselves time to retreat from sub/dom space, and back into your social selves. You drop the tone of voice you’ve been using, you relax your acting postures, you quiet down from shouting so much, you remove all restraints and tools, and so on. Conversation shifts back to normal, and you get a rest from any physical exertion. 
  • Check yourselves and each other for injuries. You may have been aware of some bruises or rashes being formed during the session, and here’s the chance to take a good, closer look. Small things like cuts and abrasions can get nasty infections, bruises and chapped lips can be irritable and painful. Any pelvic pains should be noted and examined when you have the chance. It’s better to give medical attention to chafed nipples or stubbed toes now rather than later.
  • Keep up conversation. When you ask, ‘how are you feeling?’ The answer might change by the minute. Keep an eye on everyone’s feelings, including your own. Rising stress can be leveled by removing yourself from the space and otherwise preoccupying yourself. Tensions between partners best be addressed before things grow out of control.
  • Take part in other enjoyable, stress-free activities. For some, it’s taking a bath together. Or cooking a meal. Or getting some drinks and watching funny cat videos in bed. Having a happy aftercare will do wonders to reduce any discomfort and anxiety.
  • Aftercare extends beyond the bedroom. It’s common to drive your sub home, to ensure that they won’t get into any accidents due to a distracting subspace. And someone still woozy from BDSM might forget their jewelry, or their bag. It’d do no harm to dote on each other, so to speak. 

The Aftermath: Recovery And Healing

Unfortunately, good aftercare can’t ‘solve’ everything. No amount of cuddling can solve a bad BDSM session. And for those who are sex-repulsed, the situation is even more aggravated. Asexual people are very susceptible to sex-borne trauma, which means that our self-care goes beyond most.

Any anxiety from the sex probably won’t go away the next morning. And it might lie dormant until your next date, in which you’re hit underhand with a reminder of why you actually don’t like sex. And it’s normal to have enjoyed the sex, but dread it at the same time. 

It can be very confusing to feel lost and hurt from a situation that wasn’t harmful at all. But that’s part of sex-repulsion, and part of asexuality in general. Being a dom means minimizing any triggers for this kind of anxiety, but it probably won’t avoid all of it.

As with any trauma aftercare, it’s important to maintain a sense of pride regardless of any intrusive thoughts. You’re not weak or broken for feeling the way you do. You’re a brave and brilliant individual, who faces the things you face. It’s not about eliminating or ‘curing’ this part of yourself, it’s about coming to terms with them.

A lot of the time, I don’t contact any dates ever again. It’d be too difficult to repeat the events. And that’s ok, that’s one of the ways I take care of myself and make sure I minimize trauma. And it definitely helps to document your feelings as time goes on, and also to share your feelings with a trusted friend. Going at it alone is one thing, with support it’s much easier.

I almost never go on dates knowing that I have plans the day after. It’s important that I have several hours to meditate and calm myself down after a dom session, away from my partners. I enter asexual spaces and remind myself that I am valid and strong.

Remember; the power of being a dom might be fictional, but your power as an ace is forever.

Asexual Sex-Ed: Sexual Consent While Asexual

(For more asexual sex ed, check out my ‘asexual sex ed’ tag)

Asexual sex-ed has been too long in the making. Currently, there is no dependable source of asexual-based sex ed. And that’s a huge problem. 

So one of the things that we need to talk about is consent, and how it differs from allosexual consent. Risky sex is all too common amongst the lgbt+ community. And that includes aces.

This is vital information for everybody, not just aces. We all need to learn how to navigate sexuality safely, regardless of who we are, or who we’re doing the do with. Asexual consent is the kind of information that will save lives.

The Difference Between Asexual And Allosexual Consent:

When an allosexual person gives a ‘yes’, they’re saying yes in a particular language of desire. They’re saying ‘yes, I am attracted to you. Yes, I am driven to perform sexual acts to you. Yes, I actively desire to be sexual with you.’

And that kind of ‘yes’ does not exist in an asexual language. So when these two people say ‘yes’, they’re not consenting to the same thing. We’re not speaking the same language. They’re saying ‘yes’ to something we’ll never say ‘yes’ to.

When you’re not actually drawn to the other party, and you’re not interested in them sexually, then mutual sexual stimulation becomes something akin to a chore, or a favor. And that chore can so very easily become a stressor, and from there a danger. 

In your typical high-school infosketch on what sexual assault and rape is like, you’ll get person A forcing themselves upon person B, while person B is crying, ‘I don’t want this!’ And that’s how we’ve been taught to recognize assault.

Thing is, aces are kinda inherently gonna never ‘want this’.

Consenting to something you don’t empathize with is a lot harder than if you did. So if you did not consent to be seen through a sexual lens, then being treated as a sexual partner would be non-consensual. And if the way your partner views you is non-consensual, then the sex itself is also non-consensual.

Except with asexual consent. We need to learn how to break a few rules.

Negating The ‘Affirmative’, And Replacing It With ‘Willing’

Every country and state has their own laws on lawful consent. As a general rule, sexual consent cannot be given if the victim was under duress, was lead under false impression, was incapacitated, or is underage. AKA, someone who is drunk cannot consent to sex. Someone needs to be capable and affirmative/enthusiastic in order to give consent. 

So a sound-of-mind and body asexual of legal age gives their yes. What’s the problem?

First of all, it probably wouldn’t be an affirmative yes. Affirmative meaning ‘I desire this’. The ubiquitous Planned Parenthood insists that healthy consent needs to be enthusiastic. You need to want this in order to give a real yes.

image

But that rule won’t work for aces. Our definition of ‘enthusiastic sexual activity’ isn’t dependable. You’ll often hear of stories about aces who ‘compromise’ sex with their partners, and that definitely rings of disaster. 

Compromise Versus Sacrifice

Compromising your comfort is different than sacrificing your boundaries. Not by a huge amount, but it depends on the people involved and the sexual activity in question. Having sex could be a dangerous sacrifice, but it could also be a reasonable compromise.

Compromising/sacrificing your boundaries isn’t measured by what happens under the sheets, it’s measured by how you feel. So your rights as an ace start before the sex begins. You need to feel like your partners are meeting you halfway, are willing to understand your feelings, and treat you with the respect you deserve.

‘Compromise’ can be seen as a trade. If one scenario doesn’t work, you compromise by finding an alternative. In this case, maybe your relationship can’t be free of sexual contact for its entirety. So a good compromise would be a similar situation, but one that rests better on everyone’s heads.

A sacrifice would be to give in. Instead of demanding your partner to also perform a compromise alongside your own, you’d meet their desires with no consideration for your discomfort or bodily autonomy. That’s not what you want.

A compromise would be to have limited oral sex on the days you feel safe enough. A sacrifice would be to have sex when they want it, regardless of what you feel.

A compromise would be to leave your clothes on during any sexual activity. A sacrifice would be to change your appearance against your better judgement. 

A compromise is due for all parties. A sacrifice is damaging yourself to keep the other happy.

And often, it’s not even about sex. A compromise would be to accept each other’s sexual identities for what they are, even if you don’t quite understand them. A sacrifice would be for you to hide your asexuality, because it upsets or disturbs your partner. A compromise would be to treat sexual activity with no sexual energy, while a sacrifice would be to insist that sex always ‘needs’ attraction. 

Everyone Deserves To Feel Safe

We need to step away from a world that insists sexuality as one overarching language and one overarching type of desire. That’s not true for anyone, not just aces. 

There are many aces that do enjoy sex. Maybe even the majority, I don’t know. But that doesn’t mean we’re ‘just like everyone else’, or that our sense of sexuality is gonna match yours side-by-side. 

We have a particular voice when it comes to bodily autonomy and sexual rights. And they deserve to be heard.

I’m sending this anon but when I followed you I didn’t think ace people belonged in the LGBT community and couldn’t reclaim the q-slur but honestly your blog changed my viewpoint and I’m so, so thankful. I’m a genderfluid ace person (only recently discovered I’m ace) and suddenly it makes so much sense? I’m really thankful for your posts. Thank you. You changed my ways of thinking and I am so thankful. Please take care and keep being wonderful.

now that’s what i like to hear

it’s great to hear these words, dont lose that magic c u lovely person u

Hey! I’ve had an asexual character for years that’s part of a story I’m about to start putting into fruition. I’m not asexual but I want to represent the sexuality accurately. Any suggestions/ places I should look for ideas? Thank you.

If you’re not ace yourself, then your references should come straight from the minds and mouths of ace people. You’ll need to explore the minds of people who live that ace experience, and pay attention to what we want out of life, and also pay attention to the things we fear.

There already exists ace/aro writers, and it’d go a long way to study and explore how they went approaching writing asexuality. Or not even asexuality specifically, but sexuality in general. Asexuality doesn’t just influence your sex life, it also influences everything from your relationship with your body, to your interaction with strangers in public areas, to your comprehension of consent and the word ‘no’, and beyond.

I imagine that getting into the head of an ace character while not being ace yourself can run risks of things just … not adding up. You need to search for resources that aren’t just directed at allosexual people, but also for those dedicated amongst ourselves. Since there’s this huge dearth of accessible information out there, it’s common enough that your run-of-the-mill ace is well practiced at self reflection and the ability to articulate those thoughts.

Words and concepts used in asexual communities

Asexual POC Resources

The Aphobia Masterpost

What Does Love Mean When You’re Asexual? (Using a videogame as an analogy)

Dating While Asexual

Sex While Asexual: What’s Going On?

Sex Tips For The Hypersexual Ace


There’s also some stuff written by writers, for writers, about asexuality;

Aces Are Not One Flavor: A Don’t-Do List of Lazy Characterization

Love and Sex in Literature

Issues when writing an ace character

Stereotypes to avoid when writing asexual characters

Why so many stories about asexuality hurt asexual people

Writing Asexual Characters: Character-Development Questions

How to show that a character is asexual

Writing sex scenes with asexual characters

Writing Demisexual Characters (Without Invalidating Asexuality)