History: How to make a sub-slut in under 30 years

Written 26 December, blogged today due to being offline for a while.

I’ve been a subbie slut my whole life. In early childhood I remember fantasising about abduction, torture, bondage, and rape – before I had any concept of what rape even was. I used to take pieces of elastic and tie my naked barbie dolls in elaborate positions, often suspended outside from small trees – dreaming of such things happening to me.

I was an eager slut, too – I learned all I could about sex long before the opportunity to try it. My initiation was delayed while I was temporarily convinced I was a lesbian, but when I finally first fucked a boy, I became an instant behind-the-scenes slut, somehow managing to remain a "good girl" in reputation.

One day, a group of five male friends offered me a heartfelt collective apology for "taking advantage of me" the night before. I was disappointed in them, but not for the reason they assumed. My only regret was that we had all been too intoxicated to take it very far – I wanted to be gang banged. I had just turned sixteeen.

My first "real" (actually emotional, not just sexual) relationship was a hurtful, twisted affair. I immersed myself in my boyfriend, did whatever he wanted me to, tried to change to please him, and let him treat me coldly in return. Looking back, I now recognise I was trying to be his sub – with no conscious understanding of what I wanted or why. Eventually, Betty stepped in and opened his eyes, prompting the breakup. Significant that she is now so alarmed to find out I am truly owned – perhaps she still feels the need to protect me?

My next relationship was more or less an equal one, but I distinctly remember a conversation where we noted that I had an inexplicable tendency to speak to him with a different tone in my voice than to others. "Yeah," he said, "you talk to me kind of…" he searched for a word, "… submissively." A more significant observation than either of us realised.

It was after several years frustrated in a monogamous (apart from re-discovering my "lesbian" side), vanilla relationship, with an almost asexual man, that I had to concede: I am simply not built that way. I’m a slut to the core. I need to submit to someone. More than that, I’m beginning to believe I will always need to give myself to someone. I can be nothing but myself. Betty asked me recently, "Does he really make you happy?" I said, "Happier, and more content than I knew I could be."