All I want for Christmas is a welted arse...

I have come to realise something over time: my Master is not just a Master. He is a manslut. Please note that I mean nothing offensive by that. Merely that he is a man who loves to ‘get around’, and fuck as many people as possible in as many ways as possible. Variety is the spice of his sexual life. And he loves to mix spices – orgies and groupies of any kind are top of his list. As are any new hot bitch or tight arse. That is why he spends so much time browsing for newcomers, and why it matters to him if any one of them doesn’t pan out. Because he wants to fuck them all.

I, too, am a slut. But the point of difference between my priorities and Master’s, is that I am primarily a subslut. The top of my list is whatever will be the roughest, the most painful, the more humiliating, the hardest kink. But obviously, it is not my list that determines what we do.

Occasionally I try to tell Master, that I don’t care about vanilla playmates. I would forgo any number of them for time at home with his most sadistic self. But he doesn’t seem to believe me. And perhaps rightly so… I am, after all, addicted to cock.

When we first met, one thing that made me hesitate most to give myself to him, was worry that I would not get to slut enough to be satisfied. Master made a promise to me, that I would still be used regularly and thoroughly, by many people. It has been my surprise and delight that he has kept his word. But even more surprising is that my frustration has taken the opposite form: being allowed to be a slut has made me miss out on what I want more.

I know I have blogged about this before. But my frustration rises and gets to me over time. I want to be hurt. I want to be flogged and bruised and welted and made to scream and cry. I want the sheer limits of my pain to be pushed and pushed until I fear I won’t survive. And I am forever postponed to avoid offending the sensibilities of new fucks my Master considers essential to his pleasure.

I am trying not to sound bitter, but probably not succeeding. There doesn’t seem much point in being apologetic about it. What I really want to say, when Master avoids marking me because of what others might think, is Fuck them. So what if they don’t feel ok about S&M? We don’t need prudes who want their sex all fluffy and friendly. They are boring and need to get over it. Let’s just stick to the kinky bastards, the ones who understand how to have real fun. Please, Sir….

But like I said, Master wants to fuck them. It doesn’t matter if they are vanilla as essence, he still wants to fuck them. I guess it seems that, when it comes down to it, Master preferences sex over kink, figuring there will always be time for more kink later. Whereas I preference kink any day, and feel that there will always be more sex around when you need it.

Patience, nadi… keep showing patience…

Emo slut

Last night, as I begged Master to cut me, he said, "Are you an emo slut? Or just a slutty emo?" and for a second, I felt like I'd been sprung… exposed… a secret discovered. Of course, that is one of my Master's most captivating talents – he sees right through me, and speaks aloud exactly what makes me shy away.

I would like to pretend I am a poster girl for cheerful, emotionally stable submissives, but I most definitely am not. I am moody and anguished. I am drawn to darkness, and to the 'edge'. I try and hide it, even from myself, but a part of me is fascinated with the idea of my own destruction. I want to feel my blood running over my skin. I want to feel my head float away from lack of oxygen. I want to feel the fear and exhilaration of wondering if I will live through this. Recently when Master released his hold on my throat and allowed me to gasp for air again, I thanked him for my breath… for my life. I remember thinking I would also have wanted to thank him if he had chosen to deny it.

No, I am no rainbows and fairies girl.

But my Master makes me feel light. Pleasing him I feel blessed, comforted, and secure. I feel I can live and be happy. As he said to me more than once, I can do anything.

Today I had the pleasure of being the subject of a media interview – with my Master's permission, to talk publicly on radio about what it is like to be a slave without limits. The portion they played was short and sweet and positive, and I was pleased to hear what they chose to include. But there was one hard question they asked that was edited out of the final… they said, "has he brainwashed you?" That was a question I couldn't answer – not in a public statement. Instead I laughed. The response on my lips, though, was "I don't care." If the type of training my Master performs on me – on my heart, and on my mind – is brainwashing, then so be it! I am just as grateful to him no matter what the name.

Slut appreciation

There are two types of men in the world: those who like sluts, and those who don't. The tricky part is, its not always clear which is which. Some guys who say they can't stand women like that, harbour a secret fascination for promiscuity. And others who truly get off on it, do so more out of anger and hatred than genuine desire. Its a shame, but I think its these mixed reactions that give sluts a bad name among women more than the sluts themselves.

There is nothing inherently offensive about a women who loves to be fucked indiscriminately. Not that I can see, anyway. There may well be some real objection to 'enticing' otherwise virtuous men, or to the degrading treatment of women - but they are characteristics of the men, not the slut. A true slut doesn't judge a man's motives, she just shares in the fun.

Master says all men love sluts, when they are honest about it. In a way I can see his point, there is probably some testosterone-driven part of all men that gets a reaction from a horny bitch no matter who they are. But on the other hand, I have been rejected enough for my sexuality that I can't help question the significance of that.

When I had only just met Master, when he was still gradually increasing his control over me, I went out on a date with a straight, vanilla guy. I look back and think, what the hell was I thinking? As I explained at the time, I didn't just want a hot sex life - I wanted someone to care about, and spend time with, and talk to. I thought D/s was unemotional, and you had to go vanilla to find love. Compartmentalisation. I'm now embarassed by how completely, stupidly, wrong I was.

I remember the anxiety when it came time to tell my vanilla guy about my deviant, slutty nature. I was convinced he would run a mile. Instead, in line with Master's theory, he was over the moon.

But in the end, it was the vanilla relationship that turned out to be exclusively sexual, and emotionally empty. Sure, his cock loved that I was a slut. But his brain forgot every conversation we'd had until that point. If we planned something that wasn't likely to involve sex, he cancelled at the last minute, or even worse, stood me up. Until I decided to forget it... and instead, turned to Master, and became his... and learned what I'd really been missing.

Looking back, I'm horrified to think what I almost lost with Master, and so grateful that he tolerated my short experiment in dating. I remember almost losing my chance with him, and begging him to allow me to serve, promising I would be loyal to him above my vanilla guy. I know now that Master does not tolerate ambiguity lightly... I am incredibly lucky that he gave me that chance.

Vanilla guy got so into the slut that he just wanted to have fun trashing her. Master, on the other hand, treats sluttiness like a talent - he uses it, but he also nurtures it, moulds it, and takes real joy from it. Its the difference between a drunk and a connoisseur. I can enjoy each, but I know where my place will always be.

A conversation with vanilla Betty

"Do you and your Master ever have normal sex?"

"Um... what's normal sex?"

She's asked me this a few times now, and it ends up with both of us getting confused - two people trying to communicate when, on this subject, we just don't speak the same language. Perhaps she doesn't understand that no matter what, he is always my Master and I must always serve him. If it didn't apply during sex, that would be the abnormal part.

Today, when Master started slamming his hand against my ass, I cried almost immediately - from the sheer emotional release it allowed, to feel real pain. I wanted to cling to him in gratitude, and I wanted him to keep hitting me until I shattered. Afterwards, I was a shaking, sobbing mess of joy, relief, and euphoria. Had he let me, I could have easily floated into a blissful trance. This is worth living for.

Whatever Betty means by "normal" sex, I'm sure that wasn't it. But if that's the difference, why the hell would I ever want anything to be normal?

And why is it, that I am the one stuck trying to explain whether I do or don't have so-called normal sex? It seems a far more pertinent question to ask why on earth she doesn't have abnormal sex??

Niche

I just love to be close to my Master.

This is a wierd thing for me. Historically, in my vanilla past, I've never really been the cuddly type. Even in love, I could spend about five minutes snuggling up to a partner in bed before wanting to draw back into my own space. I'm just not the affectionate type - with an equal, anyway...

But being owned brings out an entirely different side to me. I get a real sense of joy from lying next to him, with one hand on his chest... or with his arm around me... or kneeling beside him while he watches TV, resting my head on his knee while he strokes my hair.... these moments are beautiful to me.

Perhaps its because I don't get to choose them or control them. With Master, unlike a vanilla boyfriend, every kiss is a privilege, and every embrace something earnt. If he chooses to show affection towards me, I feel grateful.

I think its more than that, though...

When I am physically close to Master, I relax into him and smell him. I have a sense of being much smaller than him, and fragile. I feel simultaneously lost and safe. When I lie in his arms, I surrender to them. A hug between us is not just a show of affection, it is a show of my submission and devotion to him - and in turn, his acceptance of that.

I know that, for vanilla types, cuddling up together can have its own meaning, and be a wonderful thing, but for me it never was. So maybe this means that I was always meant to be this way?

Slut's advocate

You know what sucks? Men who feel that they have to please and impress a woman during sex. These guys put so much effort into their suave moves, spend hours on foreplay if you let them, and lick pussy using robotic, over-practiced strokes that go on forever in between murmurs of "Mmmm, yum.." Its obvious from the look of concentration on their face that their main motive is the ego-trip from believing they are a good lover. And you have no choice but to let them think they are, otherwise they only try harder!

You can see the type on online sex and dating sites - they are the ones who go on about supplying sensual massage, and how they just love to give oral. They say things like "I know how to please a woman" and make promises about the number of orgasms the lucky lady will reach.

As a slut who likes to be used, I find this only slightly more entertaining than reality TV - they are both poses, but at least if its sex I have the expectation that I'll get a cock into me at some point. If I can stay awake. Ok, I'd better settle down now before I get just too darn mean....

I blame other women for creating these dull guys. Women who whine and complain about their man not trying hard enough, not doing enough foreplay, expecting to just cram it in and fuck repetitively, using them as though they don't have their own needs. These women who are so common that it becomes a stereotype, and then people joke about it and men end up with TV, movies, radio, advertising, everything telling them from all angles that women need a complicated routine with a ten page list of techniques, and you'd better please them or you are some kind of lazy chauvinist.

Sigh. Many women would hate what I am about to say, but they can stick it. Not enough men are comfortable enough to just fuck anymore. Take your massage oils and edible body paint elsewhere - I just wanna be used, dammit! I don't want to feel like any man is putting effort in for my pleasure. I want him to just bend me over and please himself. Pure selfish animal fucking.... Mmmm........ That is hot sex.

Of course, in my sex life I don't get to be discerning. Master chooses who fucks me and how they may do it, and that means occasionally I wind up acting with someone who, despite it being obvious that I'm just a slut, feels that he needs to try hard to impress me with his handed-down techniques. And that's ok, because I am a slave. I am still being used, even when its more about their ego than their erection.

But sometimes I really want to say it: guys, if you want a soft, loving, sensual woman, then by all means go the slow, gentle option. But if you want a slut - for fuck's sake, treat a woman like a slut!

Pain slut vs plain slut

You wouldn’t think the two would have to be mutually exclusive, would you? In my mind, they certainly aren’t. Being flogged, spanked or caned, and getting passed around like a piece of meat, used, and taken for granted, seem to go together pretty well to me. But all too often, one of these delights has to be neglected for the sake of the other. And sometimes, it gets frustrating.

The problem is, all the best pain leaves marks on me. Hell, the marks are half the pleasure! And there just aren't enough people out there into sharing me with Master, who are comfortable with seeing my bruised, battered body. So, he prefers to leave the nasty stuff for times when he isn't planning to let me be a slut. And he loves seeing me be a slut.

It is really quite sensible of him to avoid freaking people out. But, dammit, I don't want to avoid it! I want to say, fuck 'em! Let's shock them! Flaunt my welts! Tell them how much I love it...... But thats just me being childish, really. I have this unfortunate tendency to want everything. Yes, I'm a greedy girl. I want to have my cake and eat it. Maybe thats what a real slut is, though? Never satisfied.

Warning: the following contains absolutely no material that may offend anyone :(

The most surprising thing just happened. I was a bit distracted while logging in to my blog this morning, typing on auto-pilot, and I entered completely the wrong login information. I didn't even realise until the page loaded and I thought, hang on, thats not Viti Levu... Then I realised who the author was: me! A totally different blog, one that I had completely forgotten existed. Even now, I barely have any recollection of actually writing it.

It is a mere half a dozen posts long, and was written in late 2005-early 2006. And contains nothing particularly exciting, kinky or sex-related. In fact, from the timing, it looks like I may have stopped having the time to write after entering my uncontrollable slut phase (lol). But I'm sure if I told Master this, his response would be "Lets see it." So, here's a link to what I called "Nadblog".

Happy Day

I've always had a thing against Valentine's Day (yes, I'm another one of them). No, its not because of loneliness, but more because, despite my attachments to washing powder, I'm just not into romance. I'm more comfortable with this time of year when I'm single: all the defiant single women get out and have a few drinks, making it a good time to get laid. Its also a nice chance to send flowers to my friends and let them know they are special. This morning, for example, I left a velvet rose on the front doorstep for Betty to find when she went out (shhh! don't tell her it was me...;))

To me, valentines day is really best spent celebrating friendship. Maybe I prefer that because the unexpectedness makes it seem more genuine... or, maybe it really is just because I'm such a cynical old commitment-phobe.

Whatever it is, here's a thought I'd like to share on this V-day:

nadi's anti-valentine links:

Anti-Valentine's cards (the source of the image above)

Sexy Greg (note: sarcasm)

Condom Day (thats more like it - let's all get shagged)

The Velocity of Gary (A movie I personally enjoyed, but had terrible reviews, about a slutty bi guy named Valentino, his boyfriend, and his girlfriend - played by the very sexy Salma Hayek).

Lots in a name

A while back I was in a study group talking about our characteristics and experiences that make us who we are. At the conclusion, each of the participants was asked to name one thing that they feel defines them in some way, a label or a connection that they feel strongly is "who I am". When it came to my turn, I had to pass. Not because I didn't have an answer, but because the answer would have made the others in the room quite uncomfortable. I don't feel a connection to much - my gender, my age, my family, my career, my home, none of these feel like an important part of me. The only thing that came to mind as a real answer was that I am nadi, my Master's slave-slut.

Master said to me today that he finds it difficult not to call me nadi in the company of people who don't know me by that name. I can certainly relate - I feel so comfortable as nadi that sometimes I almost don't recognise my so-called "real name". When I am asked my name, I often pause for a split second before answering. But when I can say my name is nadi, it rolls off my tongue without hesitation.

It seems quite strange that a name I've only used sparingly until fairly recently has come to mean so much to me compared to the name I was given at birth. Or maybe it makes perfect sense - it is, after all, a name I've chosen, and one that has become attached to some of the most transformational experiences of my life, which I have also chosen, and without which I would not be the same person. If I wasn't nadi, I truly wouldn't be me.

"The aim of life is to live!" (Henry Miller)

I just heard a fantastic song on Triple J - a cover sung by Old Man River, originally by Dan Bern.

Marilyn Monroe should have married Henry Miller

And if she did she might be alive

Cause if she did

He'd have taken her to Paris

Tied her to the bed

And eaten dinner off of her

I love it! Such simple truth.

I was shocked the other day to hear Vanilla Betty say she couldn't understand why anyone would want to try new things when they'd found something that was "good enough". Who the fuck wants good enough?! Give me amazing, and delicious, and exquisite, and thrilling... even give me awful, and dangerous, and terrifying - but never give me good enough! Where's the passion in that? Where's the life?

Marilyn Monroe didn't marry Henry Miller

I don't even know if she knew Henry Miller

But if she did he'd have taken her to Paris

And if she did they'd have fucked every day

And if she did she'd have felt like a woman

Not a photogragh in a magazine

The wisdom of dreams

Written 22 Decemeber, and blogged today due to being offline for a while.

I had a dream about a wedding – completely unplanned and not the couple’s decision. They had no time for preparations, and nothing appropriate to wear. In an effort to help, friends offered clothing and the couple put them on, but only felt awkward and phoney. Finally they removed the items they had been given, and stayed in their own casual, worn out clothes – not caring about silly ceremonies, the important thing was they were comfortable.

I need to remember what I’ve said to Sista, and others, more than once: a relationship should be defined only by the people in it. What I give to Master, and what he does with me, is for nobody else to judge. I can’t make it conform to other people’s ideas, or even fake it so it will appear that way. It is exactly as it should be - for us, not for friends or family or "scene people" who think they know whats right and wrong for everyone else, and not for silly housemates who are scared by it all.

Outed!

Its not important how it happened, but she said it was an accident. I've been living with Vanilla Betty for a few months now, and I knew I couldn't keep it a secret from her forever. She came across some private information, and confronted me: "I know you are submissive, and that he is your master!"

She was clearly disturbed, and rambled a little, trying to be open-minded but unable to hold back her real feelings: she was angry, scared, and didn't trust him. She couldn't understand why I would want this, and as my friend, she was worried for my safety.

In a way, I can understand where she was coming from. We operate on a whole other set of values and assumptions to the vanilla world - and certainly a challenging one to Betty's conservative religious upbringing, and her strong ideals of feminism, equality and social justice. Values that I share - so I can recognise how "twisted" (yes, she used the word twisted) and irrational it must seem that I could want to be treated this way. The first, and hardest question, she wanted answered was WHY?

How to explain it to someone who doesn't have it in them to understand this, without sounding psychologically ill? I tried my best to think of an analogy but couldn't. I told her it makes me happy, it feels liberating to give up control to another person. It gives me a sense of peace to offer someone so much trust.

Which brought up her next panicked question: but how do you know he can be trusted? I told her I have known Master for longer than she thinks, and that I didn't just hand over control in one moment, it has been a gradual progression, so that as we got to know each other better, I offered more to him, and he has consistently shown that he deserves that trust.

But how can you do that? I'm worried about you. I reminded her that she knows I am an intelligent person who makes responsible choices. I wouldn't do something like this frivolously. I told her it is not a new role for me - I have some experience and have learned a few things, and I am able to look after myself.

She told me she's never liked the way he always seemed "so dominating" of me in conversation. I told her I knew she was perceptive and wasn't surprised she had noticed. I told her that I liked it that he was this way, and so it shouldn't cause her offense - he is not doing anything harmful.

Its like when people say they don't mind gay people, but they don't like seeing them show affection in public - so really they do have a problem with it. That's how I feel. Good observation. So you can see that the uncomfortable feeling you have about it is a prejudice? (She didn't like that.)

Why do I have to be dragged into it? When he talks to me that way in front of you, he is not dragging you into our sex life. This goes beyond sex - its part of who we are. When he talks to me in a way that reminds me of his power over me, it is a way of expressing our relationship to one another - done subtly in conversation, because we can't be open about it in front of you.

What do you mean, part of who you are? I mean that its not just a game or a fetish - I am naturally submissive. I've always had the urge to give up control to someone in a relationship. I find it very fulfilling. And he finds it fulfilling to be in control.

How could somebody be like that - wanting to control other people? He doesn't go around controlling people. He's not a sociopath, or a manipulator. He controls people who want to be controlled.

I can't help it, the idea of you being with such a dominant personality upsets me. That's not all there is to him. He is not just dominant, he is also caring, sensitive, intelligent, respectful, fair, and very trustworthy. Don't stereotype him. I could see on her face that she knew I had a point.

Later, she expressed concern over my loyalty to her friendship: I have known you for ten years, and he just walks into your life and you put him first? I don't rank the people in my life. I don't think about anyone as more important than anyone else (with the exception of my son, who must be a priority to me). I have a different relationship to him to the one I have with you - and within that, I treat him with respect and give him power over me. That doesn't change my friendship with you.

She grew angry at me at the idea that I can't assert power over him. I can't believe you wouldn't stick up for me against him! I would talk to him honestly because I care about you. And that is more than you have the right to ask of me - you can and should stick up for youself. I can't and won't tell him what to do.

What happens if what he wants hurts someone else? That depends on how serious it is - there may be some kind of compromise possible. If I think something he wants of me will hurt someone in a way that is important enough, I can tell him how I feel. He treats my feelings and needs with respect. Its not just about him - he does care about other people.

What about treating your friends with respect? What about you, as my friend, treating me with respect by respecting my relationship and not asking me to compromise it?

Eventually, she conceded: Ok. I don't expect to be able to understand this. But I will put in some effort and try, if you give me time, to accept it. I said, that would mean a lot to me.

What a relief that I managed to answer her questions and comments without faltering! I remember a time when I would not have had the confidence and self-acceptance to be able to have this kind of conversation - a time when I, too, thought I must be "twisted" and felt a lot of shame about submission. I can't say I'm totally changed - but today I confirmed that I have come a long way.