Tantric Healing With Rahi: Orgasm Edition

I took a few weeks after my last session with Rahi before scheduling the third round. It was a combination of busyness, grappling with long distance relationship problems, and sorting through my feelings of abandonment. My high minded self knew I was projecting a number of insecurities onto Rahi, who had done nothing wrong. I had transferred the pain and anguish I felt in my romantic relationship onto Rahi. I could see it all happening internally, and I was aware that the transference was not only unhealthy, but also completely unfair. Rahi is a kind, generous person. He had provided me with diligent care and attention. I knew I needed to pause before I allowed my internal problematic frustrations to hurt someone who did not deserve it.

I spent those weeks immersing myself in work. I cohosted the fundraiser for the Black Sex Workers Collective, which Rahi attended. It was very sweet to have his support, as much as I wasn’t completely thrilled with the final results of the fundraiser, aesthetically. But still, it was a heartwarming event, and one of many I was managing at that time. I fucked new people in a poetic gesture of self-reclamation. I took on new hobby projects. And my long distance boyfriend and I went on a road trip to begin to recover from the emotional rift.

After I felt like I had enough emotional distance to avoid cultivating any unhealthy expectations, I set the date for my final tantric therapy session. I’d hoped it would fall in the middle of my ovulation period and give me another chance to enjoy the experience as fully as possible. But bodies run on inconsistent clocks. The combination of sexual contact with my partner, which sped forward my ovulation, and my unaddressed emotional trepidation led to me arriving at Rahi’s studio feeling primarily neutral. I was not ovulating. I was in the gray zone of my cycle where I could take or leave intimate contact. I wasn’t particularly peppy or excited. In fact in retrospect, I realize I was wary. I wasn’t wary about whether or not I’d leave with an orgasm. I felt somewhat confident Rahi would get me there. I felt more wary about my openness. I felt like I’d shut something I would be unable to reopen.

That day, I didn’t have the words to describe the feelings swirling inside of me, or where to begin acknowledging them when Rahi inevitably would ask me how I am. When Rahi greeted me, my mind went into “this is fine” autopilot.

Rahi: Good to see you! How was your trip?

Another question I didn’t know how to answer. It had been a complicated trip to say the least. I haven’t gone much into describing how I met my boyfriend. I didn’t want to blow up his life, and among the numerous other dramas that have characterized our conception, the tipper is that he is one of my former clients. That’s right, one of the clients found their way into my heart, and that someone is Evan, aka “Toronto Daddy”. One additional tidbit of information that is relevant to this story is that Evan has a primary partner who had a baby this summer, right around the beginning of my Rahi sessions. Now, I have known about all of this from the beginning of our torrid affair, but the birth created a whole host of unexpected challenges for us that involved everything from a confrontation with Canadian Border Patrol to a direct address to Macron. The whole situation is deserving of a story that Evan knows will one day materialize, but for now all you need to know is that we were dealing with that and more, and our road trip was an attempt to salvage our relationship. Was it a good trip? By most metrics, not really. There were beautiful moments, and we have in the end navigated these hurdles, but that trip was a challenge, to put it mildly.

Me: Yeah, it was great to get out of LA. I needed the time in nature.

This is somewhat true. I did enjoy the time in nature.

Rahi: Where did you end up going?

Me: We drove up to Santa Cruz and then took the One down. I’d never driven down the One before, but it’s a beautiful drive.

For those of you who don’t know California, Highway One is the highway that traces the California coastline. It is incredibly beautiful and largely impractical if you’re trying to go anywhere in a hurry, but if your goal is a breathtakingly gorgeous drive, it is worth the detour.

Rahi: Oh, I love the One. So lovely.

Me: Truly.

Rahi: How are you doing today? How is your knee?

Me: I’m okay. That stuff you gave me works pretty well.

Rahi: Have you noticed the inflammation going down at all?

Me: Not really.

Rahi: I’m sorry to hear that. Do you ever see other body workers for the pain?

Me: I used to get massages before Covid, but I haven’t been able to since everything began.

Rahi: I might know somebody I could recommend you to. Give me some time to think about it and I’ll get back to you.

Me: Thanks, I appreciate it.

Rahi: Can I get you anything before we start?

Me: Um, maybe some coconut water?

Rahi brought out a cup of coconut water as I sat on the now familiar couch. It was good to catch up and be reminded of why I’d trusted Rahi in the first place. He cares. It was obvious. Rahi pulled up a chair and sat across from me.

Rahi: I just wanted to begin where we left off last time to start to address what happened. I’m really sorry that I wasn’t clear about what to expect and that that led to your body not receiving what it needed. I’m sorry for the pain that the miscommunication caused you. Normally, I keep my schedule open in case anything like this comes up and requires additional time, but that day I couldn’t. But I want to assure you that today, while I try to keep sessions around four hours, if we need extra time, I do not have anything scheduled for later today. I really want you to be able to relax and focus on your body during this time.

Me: Thank you. I appreciate that.

I almost teared up again the way he had put it so concisely. My body had not received what it needed, and it was painful because that is more often than not the case. But I wasn’t going to meditate on that one. We had an eventful day ahead of us.

Rahi: I also wanted to offer you an additional session for free, just to wrap up everything we’ve practiced and if there’s anything you wanted to explore further that has come up or that might come up today, we could do that.

Me: Aw, wow. That’s really generous. Thank you.

Rahi: So, to give you an overview of today: I wanted to revisit steaming with castor oil; then move into the Full Body Active Consent which will dovetail into Inner Pelvic Release and “Vaginal Mapping,” where we’ll get to know your erogenous anatomy, discern areas of pleasure, and test your sensitivity and armouring. Does that make sense?

Me: Yeah, I think so.

Rahi: Do you have any questions for me?

Me: Not that I can think of.

Rahi: I also want to reiterate that if your body does not want pelvic work, we do not need to go there at all. We can spend more time on Full Body Active Consent or return to NeuroAffective Touch. I don’t want you to at any time feel uncomfortable. And you can change your mind at any point.

Me: I appreciate that.

Rahi: How are you feeling about the pelvic work now that I’ve explained everything to you?

Me: I feel fine. I’m open. I trust you.

It was as surprising to say as it was to realize that it was the truth. I still trusted Rahi. There were a lot of other things I didn’t trust in that moment, including my own ability to prioritize attending to the needs of my body, but I did trust Rahi and I felt open to seeing where he would lead me once again.

Rahi: That’s very meaningful to hear. I’m so glad that you trust me.

We ran through a body scan check in, and then Rahi laid out his vaginal steaming setup. I rubbed castor oil on my vulva and sat on the little steaming stool over a pot of boiled herbs. I wrapped the sheet around my waist and enjoyed the vapors rising up between my legs. While I still don’t know much about whether or not this works, I got into the operation. I decided I would buy my own v-steam set and herb mix and see what happens. If it’s a traditional technique used from Asia, to Africa and South America, it would be imperialist to assume it lacks value. According to Rahi, castor oil not only increases blood flow, but it also eases tension and restrictions caused by “excessive” vibrator use.

Now, I love all of my vibes, and I will never discontinue using sex toys in my love life, but I could see that he had a point. My clit is very much trained to vibrator and clit sucker use. It’s almost impossible for me to get off to oral sex (but not entirely impossible, as a few real champs have shown me during VIPs in the past life where I was a stripper). I remember the golden age when I was sixteen and living for oral sex. I was constantly getting head and it was a great time. But my magic wand had shown me a “whole ‘nuther level” of climaxing and I ditched oral for a variety of toys. However, years later and perhaps having become a little less sex positive than I was in those early days, I worry about my toy usage. If castor oil could begin helping me tap back into those oral orgasms of yesteryear, yolo, I would smear that shit all over my pus.

After the steaming, I dried myself and stripped down for the Full Body Active Consent. Again, I felt neutral. I wasn’t aroused. I would have been just as happy to simply receive a vanilla massage at that moment. I missed Hana, my Korean masseuse I used to visit every month. I laid flat on my stomach, my head smushed once again into the little massage table hole. In a way it was comforting. As a child, I used to sleep with my head wedged in the space between my bed and the wall. I liked the cool air and the darkness in the crevice. I felt a similar cocooned security as I laid out, waiting for Rahi.

The massage followed a similar structure to the last time, with Rahi alternating between firm broad strokes and feather-light tickles. He ran the blade of his arm down my crack, over my anus. Maybe I was simply anticipating it more, and expected the sensation to be as acute as the first time, but this time was comparatively much milder. I still wasn’t particularly aroused. If anything, I was determined to be aroused rather than organically immersed in my own pleasure. Again, he had me flip over and massaged my breasts, having me inhale as he lifted me by my nipples, and sigh as he released me down. While it wasn’t as hot as the last time, but it was still an enjoyable sensation. Perhaps the unintended consequence of the previous session was a degree of armouring I hadn’t consciously enacted. I’d numbed my body in an attempt to mitigate my feelings. There was a melancholy to the realization that I would not feel as I had felt before. But then again, can one step one’s foot into the same river twice if the water is constantly flowing? I pondered all of these things as I attempted to channel any whispers of erotic energy.

Rahi moved down to my feet and legs, and then finally it was time to begin the pelvic work.

Rahi: Let me know if there are any last things your body needs. Take a moment to scan your body, no rush.

Me: I feel like every part was attended to.

Rahi: Are you still interested in the pelvic work? As I said earlier, if you are at all uncomfortable, we can return to other exercises.

Me: I’m still interested.

Rahi: Okay then. So, I’m going to have you bring your feet down flat onto the massage table. Do you mind if I sit on the table in front of you? It’s just a little bit easier.

Me: That’s fine. I don’t mind.

Rahi sat on the table in front of me, and I laid on my back with my feet planted near my bottom. I’d asked him not to wear gloves because my vulva is often irritated by both latex and vinyl gloves.

Rahi: I’m going to apply a bit of lubricant to my fingers and then begin by massaging your outer labia.

Me: Okay.

Rahi did just that. He spent several minutes kneading my outer labia from tip to tip, then moved on to my inner labia, kneading and gently pulling the soft flesh.

Rahi: Now I’m going to massage the area above your clitoral hood. There’s a whole branch of nerves connected to your clitoris that lie right under this area.

It was a mild sensation. As a person who knows their way around a vulva, I was familiar with the branch of nerves, but was accustomed to using my ridiculous vibrator on this area, so his touch was a bit underwhelming.

Rahi: And now I’m going to massage your clitoral hood.

The challenge with having a new human play with your sexual organs is how difficult it can be to find the right groove with pressure and movement to match what the receiver wants. My vulva, and every other vulva, is incredibly specific. Rahi’s method was intended to be investigatory, but I wanted pleasure. I wanted him to mash my clit like a Playstation controller, but that wasn’t the point, so I resigned myself to accepting the touch and my own passivity in directing the operation.

Rahi: And now I’m going to massage under your clitoris.

That was another semi deadzone. I mean, at other times it can be a poppin' amusement park of sensation, but that day it was like wintertime at a boardwalk.

Rahi: If you’re ready, I’m going to begin exploring your vaginal canal.

Me: I’m ready.

Rahi slid one finger into my vaginal canal. It was more enjoyable than the clitoral exploration. I’ve always been partial to penetration (fingers or dicks, not so much dildos).

Rahi: This is the back wall.

Rahi pressed toward my spine. It was a weird sensation to experience intentionally. This is more often than not an accidental angeling problem in my experience, but this time the point was simply to notice the sensation. I noticed my lower back releasing a bit. I felt my spinal nerves flicker as he touched them from inside of me.

Rahi: And now I’m massaging your front wall.

This one was much more familiar. I enjoyed the pressure. But again, this was all very much still feeling like one of the strangest massages I’d ever experienced. It was an internal massage. It wasn’t like I was getting finger blasted--we were truly just mapping my vulva.

Rahi: Now I’m making little circles on your cervix with my fingers. Can you feel that?

I hadn’t known what exactly was going on. I felt Rahi’s fingers twisting inside of me, but I didn’t realize he was massaging my cervix. It didn’t feel bad, but the part of me that is constantly a little concerned about my cervix had a solid moment of feeling quite concerned. Was that okay? I mean, it was probably, fine. Plenty of strangers had unwittingly done the same.

Rahi: I’m avoiding your IUD.

I felt a bit of relief knowing he was conscious of that situation. The cervix circles were the most pleasurable part. I hadn’t realized he was deep enough to touch my cervix, but that could have been because my cervix hadn’t lifted with arousal. Another thing Rahi taught me was that the cervix lifts and the canal lengthens when someone with a vulva is aroused, to accomodate penetration. And I thought I was the pussy expert.

It was around that point that I decided to focus on coming. It wasn’t that I was aroused, it was the principle. I wanted to come. I mean, that had been the origin of our entire journey, whether or not the goal had evolved throughout the process. I began practicing kegels, attempting to tap into some pleasure. Rahi was still focusing on exploration. The intended outcome had never been an orgasm at least as far as we had communicated. But I was stubborn. Rahi continued doing cervix circles. I needed clitoral stimulation if I was going to come.

Me: Could you focus on my clitoris too?

Rahi: Of course.

He reengaged his clitoral technique, and it was not really what I needed. His nails were also a teeny bit sharp.

Me: Your nails are kinda hurting me.

Rahi: Oh, let me adjust.

He tried to adjust, but his nails kept digging into my clit. And still, my will to orgasm was strong. But I already knew it was going to be a sad orgasm, simply by the amount of effort it was taking to guide Rahi to do what I needed. Plus my nipples were out in the wind, and my nipples are the most sexually sensitive part of my body. It was a bit of a mess. I took over my clitoral stimulation, then felt frustrated that I was doing the work. I wanted more aggressive touch, which was not the point of the exercise. The point was sensual awareness and attention to the nuances of gentle touch. Eventually, after a lot of patience on Rahi’s part, and determination on my part, I had a deflated balloon of an orgasm. It was fine. Painful because of the nails, but whatever. I’d had worse.

I expected we would wrap there, but there was one more thing.

Rahi: I’m going to massage [a muscle whose name I forgot] from the inside of your vagina. It’s almost impossible to access it superficially, but internally you can get into the muscle pocket.

He pressed into the sidewall of my vagina, into my leg muscle. I had never considered this as an option, but it felt nice. It was getting into my abductor and groin muscle region. And weirdly, the energy was entirely platonic. He could have been massaging my shoulders for how normal the experience felt.

When Rahi finished this final element of the massage, I sat up, a little bashful and frazzled. I was a mess of massage oil, lubricant, and vaginal discharge.

Rahi: Feel free to shower. Here’s a towel. Let me know if you need anything. I’m going to give you some space, and when you’re ready, you can meet me in the kitchen.

I was grateful for the shower. I smelled like I’d spent a night at the pussy factory. I didn’t know where to place the experience. It was somehow almost anti-erotic even after spending two hours on a multilevel erotic massage. In the end, part of it was the unrequited nature of the exchange. I was a client, Rahi was a practitioner providing a service to me. It wasn’t about him or his eroticism, and that’s the way it should be, I mean especially after that quack, Rick Mass. Rahi was incredibly professional and kept a respectful personal distance. But it left me feeling a bit like I was without an erotic foil to mirror my arousal. It was all about me, just feeling my own body. And in the end, that felt disappointingly lonely in a different way. Maybe it was my armouring that got in the way of immersing myself in this kind of assisted solo exploration, but the end result was not what I had hoped for.

And I want to emphasize that this isn’t Rahi’s fault. If we had gone this way the first round, I probably would have had an incredible experience. But that day, I was truly distant from my own body. I packed my bag and retrieved the money for him. I wasn’t sad. I appreciated the time and care Rahi had put into the session. The rest was my own internal bullshit I would grapple with another day.

Rahi: How are you feeling?

Me: I feel good.

If by “good” I meant “not bad”.

Rahi: Good. I’m glad to hear that. Did you have any questions?

Me: Nope. Not that I can think of.

Rahi: Well, do let me know if anything comes up. Give your body some time to process everything. And let me know if you realize anything you want to work on during the fourth session.

Me: Definitely. I will. Thank you again.

We hugged. This time my breathing was even. I wasn’t fighting against tears. I was calm as Rahi held me.

Rahi: Have a joyful week.

Me: Thank you. You too.

And I left