A Whore is a Whore, But Whose Whore?

A while back I wrote a post called "The Monogamous Whore", and there was a bit of a debate about definitions, and I don't think that I have really written anything about the term since then.

Why bring the term up now? Well, you might be sorry I asked, because this is likely to be one of those rambling posts that gets wrapped up while Alpha is in the shower lol.

We ended up surrounded by of a gaggle of women last night (yes I said gaggle, and yes I hates them). On the bright side, Alpha was the only person who spilled beer on me, which is a first (though I'm not 100% sure that the drop which went down the back of my pants was accidental).

Anyways...It was rather clear that he could have had his pick to take home if he had wanted. Ironically, this led to a rather blatant discussion about my whorishness that ended with me having to strip in the bathroom in order to take him my underwear.

It all started in the parking lot, when he leaned back and drawled, "You're a fucking whore and you know it."

Umm, well...Maybe?

He snorted derisively, "If you didn't have me in your life, when you were younger you would have just gotten fucked and used up. At this point in your life, you would see what you wanted and go fuck it. And there would be a lot of them."

That led to the slightly uncomfortable realization that he was right.

You can tell if someone wants to flirt when you make eye contact with them, and it's not much of a stretch to discern from there if you can fuck them.
It's an assessment that I have gotten better at making as time has gone by.

One uncomfortable realization at a time is never quite enough for him though...
"You love sex." He stated matter-of-factly. "You just hate to admit it. Just like you love it when I stick up knife up your ass--just because you don't like to admit it doesn't mean it isn't true."

Ahem, well...

See, as much as I seem to have this internal barrier against admitting that I like sex, I do like it. I like it a lot.  And as much as he is the one and only for me, without him and his control? I would  probably go after everything I saw that I wanted.
Kind of like the way one sizes up a steak before digging in, (I do like mine bleeding and ready to jump off the plate) I would have a terrible predatory streak. Which is ironic given that it would all be with the ultimate goal of having those predatory tendencies turned on me.

I was shifting around uncomfortably trying to come to terms with my thoughts, and said, "I'm not sure how I feel about that. I have to think about it." He shrugged, (what's with all that damn nonchalance?) and said, "Why do you have to know how you feel about it?"
Umm..."I don't know why, I just do!"

He leaned in, "You're a fucking whore, and I love it. Because that means I could pick one of those women and take her home and make you watch me fuck her. Because you really will fuck whoever I tell you to. And as much as it scares the shit out of you, you love it too. You are My whore."

Is he suddenly the king of uncomfortable truths or what?

I think that what is most uncomfortable about admitting that I am a huge whore at heart, is admitting it to him. Oh sure, he knows it, but if I actually admit it myself, then I have to admit that I could see myself acting on it. And maybe he wouldn't like that so much (oh hush, logic has no place here, after all, we are talking about how I feel about something lol).

It is interesting though, because we had talked about secrets before all this, and how even if I could do something like sleep with someone else without telling him, I would live a totally miserable existence. But it wouldn't be that difficult to sleep with someone else if he told me to do it.

I am terribly fuzzy, and I'm not even going to read this post to see if it makes sense.
I think that we need more than one or two date nights a year. My perspective on life is incredibly improved this morning...