Wednesday, August 19, 2015

Why I hate the word slut

I have been away for a while. Some changes in my personal situation and work situation put a halt to a large part of our kinky life and hence this blog. But life goes on and all sorts of kinky things are happening again so I figured it is time to return to this blog as well. The Wicked Wednesday prompt for this week (monogamy) is perfect for that since I have been struggling with something related.

The other day, MrReg told me again to behave like a slut and have sex with other people (men) both online and in real life. Whenever MrReg tells me that, I feel anxious, frustrated, obstinate, sad and angry. Which is strange because I do like to have sex with other people, as I described in a previous post.

So after venting some of my frustration on twitter, I thought about why it bothers me so much during one of my runs. These were some of the things I came up with:
  • I am a pleaser. Even though some people call themselves 'slut' proudly, in general it is a curse word that shows a great deal of disapproval. I feel hurt when people call me names, except sometimes in play.
  • I need my friends approval. MrReg is quiet on the topic, he usually does not tell our friends that he wants me to fuck around. Good friends, some of whom I see every other week, don't understand why I need more people in my life, since I already have a master. I can feel their disapproval when I tell them I am going away for the weekend to play or have sex with someone else without MrReg.
  • I am in love. I am very focused on MrReg. Having sex with other people distracts me and especially in times when our relationship is less close. Of course, this is a catch 22; MrReg's interest in me spikes when I have sex with other people and becomes less when I don't.
  • I am submissive. I like being used. The word sluts implies the need to seek out men or women to have sex with because of the sex. Whereas my kink is to have sex with dominant men or women that want to use me. I need there be some type of control/dominance associated with it. It does not mean I always need pain or bondage as part of the equation, but it needs to be more or something else than just sex.
  • I am careful. I don't like the risks associated with having multiple partners, especially online. There are two types of risks here: physical, because having multiple partners puts me at risk for STDs and psychological because playing online puts me at risk of being exposed.  
  • I am afraid to be rejected. I feel insecure about my body, my age and my face and feel like I make a fool of myself when I try to find partners. Again a catch 22: if I don't engage with other people I run the risk of being rejected by MrReg, if I do I run the risk of being rejected by them.
  • I am proud. I like to feel special and I don't want to engage in sex with just any man 'out there'. Being told to be a slut demotes me to the lowest rank, anybody is good enough to touch me.
I am a sexual and physical person. When I like someone, I enjoy having sex with that person. Or to cuddle. In general, I like sex in a BDSM setting or with very good friends. In the last couple of years I have done both. It is fun, I love those friends dearly and it has improved our sex life. It made me less self conscious and I learned a lot about different types of sex (with women, threesomes with 2 men, threesome with 2 women, men that are circumsized, etc etc). In fact, this month alone I have had one date, agreed to have another one next week and made plans for two more for the end of the year.

However, all this does not make me a slut. I will never claim to be monogamous. I like to have sex with different people. People that I like, admire and that somehow appeal to me. But I am not a slut. Even though I am supposed to be one.

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

Saturday, February 22, 2014

It all started with a crop

The first implement that Mr Reg bought to hit me with was a crop. I distinctly remember my excitement when he used it on me. It signified a rite of passage: we moved from an experiment with rough sex to the next stage; he was buying things to hurt me as part of our sexual relationship.

That first time he took me to the attic and tied me to the beams using handcuffs. We had never played there before. I was horny from anticipation, worried about what would happen and feeling very submissive. The pain of the crop landing on my skin startled me. I was very tense, making it hurt more. He hit my pussy with it, and my ass. I think I screamed a little and after a while Mr Reg stopped. I felt relieved and a bit disappointed that it was over at the same time. He did not hit me very hard; I don't remember any marks or soreness the next day. I do remember feeling extremely submissive and a bit confused the days after the session.

It was in the stage of our relationship where we did not discuss any of it yet. I had no idea that Mr Reg bought it. Or when. Or in what store. It is amazing how far we've come. As I was writing this, I realized I don't know these things and asked him about it. He bought the first one in a erotic shop, where they sell toys. Later he ordered some online at a riding apparel store. It may sound trivial, but talking about these things is very important. It leads to conversations about our feelings. About our relationship. I no longer feel blocked when it comes to talking about sex, my body or my masochistic and submissive personality.

Later Mr Reg bought a number of different spanking tools: whips, riding crops and canes. I learned that the pain of the crop was one of the milder ones. And that I like pain. A lot. The crop won't send me into subspace. But it hurts enough to feel focused. The sound is scary; the impact painful and a relief at the same time.

We started to play with other people. Sometimes Mr Reg joins me, sometimes he sends me off by myself. When I meet other people by myself, I am often the one who is supposed to bring the toys. The crop is always one of them. The crop hurts enough if necessary, but it can also be handled by someone with less experience or who is less sadistic. My backpack has a special part where you can put a hockey stick. It is perfect for crops ;)

As I wrote in my last blog, I am shared between Mr Reg and Master. As it happens, the crop is also one of the first things Master hit me with. Every time we meet, I bring it with me. Along with a black rod. The black rod is made of fiber glass (or so I am told by Mr Reg). It hurts very much. It feels like punishment. The crop is the reward. Painful but good. Hot. An instrument to control me.

Obviously, if Mr Reg or Master feel like it, they can turn this wonderful instrument into a nasty painful thing by hitting me so hard I scream beg them to stop. Especially when they hit my pussy with it.

The crop and I have a long history. I look at it with fondness. It was there from the beginning. And hopefully it stays with me for a long time to come.

want to see who else has a thing for crops? Click the button below. 
Kink of the Week

Saturday, February 15, 2014

Hard limits - 30 days of kink

Day 10: What are your hard limits?

Limits are a difficult topic for me. I have difficulty saying no. I have issues using my safe word. Being forced to do things, being used turns me on. Being forced to do things I don't want to do or don't like are a big part of the thrill of power exchange to me.


I have no limits

I identify as a slave (as opposed to a submissive) because I have given up the right to have hard limits with Mr Reg. That was relatively straightforward, as I described in day-1 of this series. Last summer, Mr Reg decided to share me with another master, DiceMan UK. This was very different from becoming Mr Reg's slave. Different because of the distance and the fact I was already owned. But also in terms of limits. When DiceMan first approached me, one of his first questions was about my limits. He asked me what other limits I had, besides the usual ones concerning children, illegal activities and scat. I answered that I did not really have any other limits, except that Mr Reg determines what I do and what I don't do. This lead to a number of increasingly different tasks and sessions. He pushed me further every time. He mocked me by asking me whether I wanted to flee to Mr Reg, to avoid having to do what he asked. I never did. I just obeyed. Even against my better judgement. After only a few weeks of online conversations on twitter, kik and Google, DiceMan asked me my real name. I replied I don't usually tell people my name because both my first name and my last name are relatively rare.  I was on my bike going to work. When I returned home that night, he messaged me again. Asking for my name. And I answered him. When I asked him politely for his name, he refused. I felt horny, confused, scared, intrigued and excited.


Or do I?

During all this, DiceMan asked me regurlarly about my limits. I had become more serious about answering his questions. I explained to him that I would never do anything that would harm Mr Reg, or my children. That it was important to me I did not bother other people (innocent bystanders) and that I needed to be able to do my job. We also discussed that it is difficult to talk about limits;  there are things I would never think of, but someone else could. And things that are off limits for me with one person can be totally OK with another person. 

We continued talking, and after a while the topic of my service came up. Mr Reg decided to share me with DiceMan. I would be both Mr Reg's and DiceMan's slave. DiceMan told me to write down how I would serve him and describe what my hard limits were. To me, being someones slave means I have to do what I am told.  If I don't like what I am supposed to do, or don't agree, I can obviously talk about it. But I can't say no anymore. The only option I have left is leave the relationship. So the limits were important. Especially since we did not have a long history together. I wrote an email, describing how I would serve him and within what limits. It did not include a lot of specific activities. It was about values. About not wanting to hurt other people. About the law and my family. And since DiceMan and me share a lot of the same values, they were a good fit with his limits.



This all happened last year. I serve both Mr Reg and Master D. ever since. To me it feels I have no hard limits, except the ones they set for me. Which is a relief. Limits are a difficult topic for me. I have difficulty saying no. I have issues using my safe word. Being forced to do things, being used turns me on. Being forced to do things I don't want to do or don't like are a big part of the thrill of power exchange to me. Being slave to Mr Reg and Master D keeps me safe. They challenge me, they use me and make me grow. They push me over my inhibitions and help me deal with my fears. And they make sure I say no to things in my life that are harmful. They keep me out of trouble. Because everyone should have hard limits. To protect themselves and others.

Sunday, September 15, 2013

Perks of an hotel room

Some hotels have really nice features, like this one: a divider between the bath and the bed ...

Rigger and photographer: Mr Reg

Want to know who else is Sinful on Sunday? Click on button below:

Sinful Sunday

Sunday, September 8, 2013

Toy mark

We were away for the weekend and MrReg brought some of his toys. This one he considers more a tease than really an implement to administer pain.

I think I respectfully disagree...

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Sinful Sunday

Sunday, August 25, 2013

Pondering hoods - Kink Of The Week

I distinctly remember the first time I saw someone wearing a hood. It was a beautiful slave, at a party. Her master had her on a leash and she was wearing very high heels. The hood was made of leather and covered her head completely. She could not see anything. She completely depended on him for guidance. She was very calm and he was very nonchalant, walking around with her casually. Tying her to a post sometimes, showing her off. All I could think was: "I want a hood like that".

The next time I saw hoods was when I was in California. A good friend took me and his slave to some stores. One of them had the biggest collection of hoods I had ever seen. We were shopping for a kinky dress and I was too shy to tell them I wanted to try one of the hoods. So I admired them secretly. They looked great. Leather hoods, latex hoods, gas masks, hoods with openings, hoods without openings. Just looking at them made my knees weak.

A hood shows form. It is round and smooth. To me it shows perfection. I love looking at people wearing hoods. I can't keep my eyes off them. You know there is a person inside. But that doesn't matter. All that matters is the perfect form and the complete surrender of that person to his or her Master. Giving up their personality, being anonymous. I want to touch the leather. Or the latex. Or whatever fabric it is made from.

I love hoods. As I wrote earlier in the post that lists my kinks, I love wearing hoods, even more than I like watching people wear them. It makes me surrender completely. I don't have to watch out for what comes next. I can hear everything much clearer, but more distant at the same time. When I wear a hood, I know all my imperfections are hidden. All I have become is a body. It calms me. Lately I have come to a realization though. I tend to withdraw when I surrender. When I am wearing a hood, I can concentrate on the other person for a while. But soon it becomes harder and harder. I register sensations, but nothing else. I can't interact anymore. I can't talk coherently. I can't think. I just am. It feels great. I am in subspace. It feels like I am in heaven. But it is really difficult to serve someone well when I am in that state. I can't focus on him. I can hear, but not really understand. I can obey, but not concentrate. He can use my body, but not count on my mind. Which makes me wonder. Why do dominants like their subs and slaves in a hood?

Thursday, August 15, 2013

Kink related song - 30 days of kink

Day 9. Post a kink related song or music video you enjoy.

I enjoy different type of songs. Sometimes I hear something kinky in the lyrics. Sometimes the music brings me to a submissive place. Sometimes a voice can take me to a dark place. Sometimes the combination brings back memories. 

One day at bondage night, our host played a song for us by Rammstein. It is a German band. The lyrics are posted here, with their English translation. It really is the only kink related song that is perceived as such by everyone.

What I like about this song is its directness and the rawness. I like lots of different types of music, from David Bowie to Eminem. From Roxy Music to Korn.  What I like depends on my mood, the venue, the company I am in, the occasion. Most songs I associate with kink because I heard it at a play party. Or because I am kinky and I interpret the text that way. With the exception of this song. Sometimes I enjoy it. Sometimes it annoys me. Sometimes I laugh at it. But it is always a kink related song, no matter how I look at it or how I feel. And other people think so too, as the text on youtube states:

" Ich tu dir Weh" (I hurt you) is the second single from the 2009 album Liebe ist für alle da by the German band Rammstein. Mainly because of the sado-masochistic content of this song, the album was placed on the "index" maintained by the German Bundesprüfstelle für jugendgefährdende Medien. In May 2010, the original uncensored album and the single were unindexed and consequently released in Germany."

I am happy I got this day out of the way and can return to more interesting parts of the series....