This post is a continuance of the Kink Shame & Pride that started with a post of Emily at I Like Chocolate, He Likes Vanilla. Feel free to join in with your own thoughts, as a post on your own blog or commenting on this or other ‘Kink Shame’ posts. Or become a member of the Fetlife group and start/join discussions.
I am a slut. I have been born a slut. Yes, I am proud to be a slut, but I have not always been proud. There was a time that I was very ashamed of who I was, of the slut in me. So many times I have tried to hide her, to shun her from my life. But she always came out to play again. And gradually I have come to accept her as part of me. But it took the greater part of my life up to now to do just that.
The word that seems to be appropriate for someone like me – or like I was in my younger years – is promiscuous. Yes, that was the label people put on me. But before I continue, what is promiscuity?
Promiscuity in human sexual behaviour, according to Wikipedia, is the practice of casual sex with multiple sexual partners. The term can carry a moral judgement and is viewed in the context of a mainstream social ideal for sexual activity to take place within exclusive committed relationships. A common example of behaviour viewed as promiscuous within the mainstream social ideals of many cultures is a one-night stand.
I had a couple of one-night stand and I had some ‘relationships’ that ended after the first time we had sex. Not only the guy was aiming for sex. No, I was too, but except for the one-night stands (two if I remember correctly) it never happened on the first date. There had to be friendly feelings and normal conversation before I could have sex with a man. Sometimes after the sex the friendship was over too, but many times the friendship continued without us ever touching each other in a sexy way or even talking about it.
I loved to be touched by boys (in my teenage years) and men. I did not mind them slipping their hands under my blouse or into my pants. In fact, I wanted it. I loved to feel their hands on me and to know that I could keep their attention by offering them my body. And no, I did not mind that only my body was interesting to them and that they did not actually wanted a relationship with me. Just as quickly as they got bored with me, I got bored with them.
So even if this is how I felt, why was I ashamed of my own sexuality? Of loving sex? Of wanting to be touched? Of enjoying the attention of males? I was ashamed of it because I was taught that it’s wrong. Society expected of me to withhold from sex until I was married. Society told me that if I allowed men to do that to me, I would not be respected. Even though I enjoyed everything I did, there were periods in my life that I refrained from doing the things I enjoyed, because shame would consume me. Those periods could last for weeks or months, but always my sexual nature returned and I started craving the attention again.
I have had my share of serious relationships that ended in disaster. In all my serious, long term relationships, I have first been who the man in question wanted me to be, which mostly also meant that I had to hide part of my true nature. My slutty nature. It was Master T who recognized the hidden slut in me. It was Master T who brought the slut from her hiding place and welcomed her with open arms. He is the one who allowed the slut to come out and play. He wanted the slut at His side. He wanted me to be true to who I really am. Not once had He expected of me to hide the slut again. Many times on this blog I have said: I am His wife and I am His slut. Master T wants the full package, not only part of it.
I am a slut.
I have been born a slut.
I am proud to be Master T’s slut.
And as for promiscuity? No, I am not promiscuous. I just happen to love sex.
© Rebel’s Notes