All the self-respect of a......

Lately I've been loving being offered in exchange for work done on my Master's house. I'm being treated like a slutty object, a fucktoy to be used. The other day I had to be there on show for the refridgeration guy, then drive to another house to be used, and return in time for the electrician to fuck each of my holes. Walking through town in a tiny mini skirt and stockings on a hot day, I felt like an obvious whore... and, I hoped, a cheap one.

The other day, Master allowed me to make copies of many of the photos he's taken of me in use. It started me thinking about all the people he has had inside my holes since I've known him. I don't even think I'd be able to count. I want to laugh now, when I think about the promise he made me on that day..... that if I was his, he would make sure I was an extreme slut. I can't believe I doubted him at the time! Now, I honestly think I am far bigger a slut than I could ever have become of my own accord. And I know he will make me even better.

Two things are bringing all this to mind right now. The first is Master's observation, and my own, that somehow I've been less desperate than usual to have my holes fucked lately. I sincerely don't know what exactly it is, but I've been strangely "take it or leave it" a lot of the time. Its a little bewildering. I think a part of it is in my devotion to him - thankfully, the one lust that has not reduced in the slightest is my desire for Master and the drive to please him. Ironically, though, its led to him becoming somewhat disappointed with my sluttiness and desire for others.

Master's solution has not come as a surprise to me. Back when he took control of my sex life, bit by bit, I began to fear that one day he would take control of my masturbation, too. And now, the loss of that right not only reminds me that I am completely possessed, but it also serves another purpose: he is forcing me to remain hornier and hornier, so that I become utterly desperate to be fucked. Its a cruel kindness. And so far its working exactly as he planned.

The other statement bringing me to contemplate my slut's state of mind, is a suggestion, in an online forum, that to be used this way, I must have questionable self-respect. I found the idea intriguing, because it made me realise something vital: its amazing how much more pride I take in myself now, than I used to! And all it took was to be enslaved, whored, abused, and placed on the bottom of the heap for anyone to use! Its amazing what a sense of having found your place can do for one's self esteem :)

I believe there was once a time when my self-respect really was low. Its hard to remember now. But the way Master has trained me, my most degrading behaviours have become my greatest sources of self-worth. And I guess that makes it even more important that I re-ignite my horny state quickly - so I can be sure to maintain all the self-respect of a deserving, deviant, dirty slut!

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.

That fresh feeling

Last night, Master arranged for me to have the honour of deflowering a (male) virgin. I had done that before, but the other times had been rushed, or drunken, or just unforeseen. This was the first time I'd had the opportunity of consciously, and deliberately, taking someone through a totally new experience they would not forget..... creating sex for them. So rare to have the opportunity to knowingly make such a mark on someones life.

One might think I'm overdoing this, romanticising what was overtly a contrived act. It's not the culturally accepted 'ideal' way to lose your virginity - meeting a man online who agrees to allow his woman to take it. But to my mind, this guy was far better off skipping the awkward fumbles and anxieties of being with an equally inexperienced girl he feels pressure to impress. I was delighted to help him go straight to wanton world of exploring the possibilities of sex. Don't we all take delight in the pleasure of introducing someone to something we truly love?

It takes me back to when I lost my virginity - all four times. The first was after realising I was not actually gay, after all, and promptly found myself a boy I was attracted to, instigated the required romance, and invited him to my room. We toyed and teased and experimented with things that were new to us both.... and when it came to the final act we knew we were heading for, nerves got the better of him. But for me, I felt my innocence was satisfyingly lost.

The second time, I was hanging out with a friend and somehow, we decided it would be fun to 'do it'. We were in another friend's back yard on her trampoline, and we were playful, swinging between lustful seriousness and stifled laughter at our own lack of prowess. Finally, after uncounted false starts, he pushed his cock just inside me...... then jumped up, hissing, someones coming! .....our expedition ended with us frantically getting dressed and trying to hide our smiles.

Shortly after came the would-be gang bang that still fills my fantasies from time to time. I don't count that as one of The Four, but it led directly to the third. The male friends I'd been with that night all apologised to me, but there was one who did it with a glare at the others. That look said to me, that he was not sincere in his apology, that he was a victim of peer pressure who'd wanted to fuck as much as I did. That new year's eve, I rewarded him for his lust by riding him fervidly in the spa - twice. That was also the breaking of my exhibitionist virginity - my hot male friend omitted to tell me when someone approached, letting them stand behind me until a noise caught my attention and I turned to see our voyeur making an exit. I realised he'd let me unknowingly put on a show, and I was exhilarated.

Finally, the fourth time my virginity was lost, to put it daintily, I bled on the sheets. I was seventeen, a girl, and he was twenty-five, a man - and big. He was not like the timid boys I was used to - he had his way with me, and for the first time, I felt I'd been fucked.

These are the experiences I took with me last night, shaping one of life's most memorable events for a nervous young man. I wanted not to be his teacher, but his encouraging helper - someone to travel his own desires with. I tried to be gentle and dirty, kind but also a nasty slut - equal parts caregiver and whore. Master helped with the latter, of course - and provided our lucky visitor with some experiences that many first-timers would be shocked by ;)

Yes, it was a memorable experience - for nadi , too :)

Can the unowned choose their owner?

"Hi my supreme Master. Please Sir may i obediently submit myself mind body and soul into your complete control ownership as your domain and as your slave today. I will completely submit to any and every thing you have in mind to force on me. As your possession I have no choice."

What is that?
What makes someone think they have the ability to write a message like that to my Master?
And why does it bother me so much?
He shares that with me and I am confounded. I want to share in his pleasure, but I also feel the bitter need to defend....... something...

It's not like jealously, so much as territoriality... which sounds awful - Master is not 'mine'. But statements like that feel like someone stepping in on my ground, with little or no effort, and that offends me. Most of the time these are messages from people who barely know Master, or haven't met him at all.... So my the first question in my mind is always, don't they realise we take this seriously? That when I say I belong to him, its actually true and not just something that applies when I'm horny??

When I met Master, I would never have said those things to him - and not just because I was scared of committment, lol. How disrespectful it would have felt, to just 'decide' that I was 'his', without him making that decision! And to suggest, by implication, that I wouldn't take it seriously if it was one day really so.

He spoke to me recently about how far I have come - from a naughty, risk-taking slut kneeling in my living room the first time we met.... trained in less than two years to become completely his. To take all the pain, humiliation, body fluids, and control that he wishes.... and still be an extreme slut, under his guidelines.

I have been noticing lately that I almost seem to have lost a part of my sluttiness - the part that is always wanting more. I was with him last night and I noted that after a week without cock I was coping far better than normal. He said that was good, that it meant I was changing my focus... and I realised he was right. These days, when he talks of playing with this person or that, I just don't react with the same enthusiasm I used to - not because I'm not interested, but because I'm not constantly wanting more. He is more important.

It's taken a lot for me to get this far. I've worked hard for him, and he has put a lot of work and effort into me. All the pain, the tears, the hard learning, the love, the submission of one thing after another..... it has been worth it. I have earnt my place... and I continue to earn it. No wonder its such an insult when a stranger sees fit to tell my Master they are his.



PS. That's 100 blog posts, today :)

Pain slut!

One thing I love about Master, is that he knows how not to let life win over play. It wasn't easy to find the opportunity for my flogging today, and we almost ran out of time. I knelt beside him, becoming anxious that I would miss out on the pain I'd been so badly looking forward to. But he was calm and confident, and would not be rushed. And I know he was right to take his time - a hurried flogging would be worse than none at all.

He selected his instruments and placed them on the bed, then told me to lie face down. He secured rope to the bedposts, and I watched while he tied the first end to my right wrist, already drifting towards a blissful daze. I think I have mentioned before that I have a rope fetish... *smile*... The sight and sensation of him wrapping the binding around my wrist removed all concerns with the outside world for me, erased in the thought of rope.... mmmm..... I will have to blog more about rope some other time :)

After tying both my wrists, he used leather cuffs to attach my ankles to a spreader. I do love his spreader. He fastens my feet and already I feel open, and vulnerable. But then he makes an adjustment, and the bar lengthens, forcing my feet even further apart... just far enough so that I feel my lips part and the cool air between them. It's one thing to have your legs secured open, but another, more erotic experience altogether to have them secured, and then opened, having already become helpless.

I love the way he will secure me, then walk away. He is silent at those times, and all I am aware of, face down on the bed, are soft, busy sounds. I hear his footsteps back and forth, a drawer opening and closing, a quiet rustling... just enough so that I know he is there, but not enough to tell whether he is preparing to do something to me, or if I am simply being ignored. Both options are arousing. Of course, this time I knew something would come before too long. He told me to raise my head, and firmly stuck two layers of heavy tape over my mouth, ready to begin.

He started with the leather paddle - and for me, a paddle is the hardest pain to take. He stroked my cheeks with the fur-covered side first, letting me anticipate the hard stroke I was about to feel. I am used to him building up the sensuality of it before getting started on the real pain. But today he simply went about covering my ass with a shade that would satisfy him. I started squirming and yelling against the tape quickly, but he didn't pause - he was methodical. And I felt deeply that this was because it is his body he was hurting, and he intended simply to extract the reaction he wanted from its skin.

It feels freeing to know that. If there is an audience watching me be flogged, I feel an obligation to exercise self-control over my reactions, to take as much as I can, and that gives a sense of pride. But alone, just Master and I, my hands and feet secured and my voice suitably muffled, there is no need to control myself to please him - I am already controlled. I will take as much as he chooses to give me - what other option do I have? All power, even to beg him to stop, is taken from me.

When my skin was raw, so that when he ran a hand over it I could feel some of it had been stripped away, he switched to the flogger. What is usually a soft, warm thud now felt like a sharp, hot sting and I loved it. But before I got too comfortable he used the cane. I don't know what it is that makes a cane feel so good when I'm bent over, with my skin taught, and so agonising when I'm stretched out flat, face down. But I screamed.

I always feel unsure about making so much noise. So many seem to find it a sign of a better sub, to be silent and take the pain... perhaps because screaming is assumed to mean wanting it to stop. For me, the experience is all the more intense and intoxicating if I can let out a sound and express how it feels. It doesn't mean I don't enjoy the agony - I am quite likely to scream and even try to escape the blows, then still beg Master for more. Pain always comes with ambivalence, and to release it in sound is like letting go of my demons.

So today, I was grateful for the tape over my mouth, so that I could scream... and grateful for the ropes around my wrists and the cuffs around my ankles so that I could struggle, and know that Master would continue anyway, until he was satisfied. At one point he climbed over me and pushed his cock inside me, and I melted, both with the pleasure of feeling him there, and also of knowing that, despite him already having fucked me earlier, he was thoroughly enjoying doing this to me. Several times he ordered me to cum while he hurt me, and I did. Several more times he paused to photograph his handiwork. And at the end, while tears rolled down my face and I panted through my nose, he rubbed oil on my ass, and then let me lie there shaking and feeling the heat radiating from my cheeks... so relaxed, and feeling so beautiful...

I had asked him, when I had thought we had more time, to do my back, tits, cunt and legs just as hard. He asked me afterwards how I felt about that now. I hesitated, but then he suggested, "A little ambitious?" and I suddenly felt a surge of determination. If we'd had the whole afternoon, at that moment I would have begged him to do it all. Is that too much pride, for a slave? Perhaps I need it beaten out of me ;)