Problems With Men...

I would say that I have had problems with men for my entire adult life, but that would be a slightly erroneous statement, given that my issues began to arise before adulthood. In my defense, I was not the person who cultivated those issues.

Making BDSM part of our relationship has changed so much for me...

There is a certain unclean feeling that certain life events leave one with. It's something that no amount of scrubbing seems to clean, no amount of tears seems to wash away, sometimes you feel like you could scrub your own skin off, and that filthy feeling would stay there just under the surface of your being.

Our relationship and the context in which we have chosen to develop it, has eradicated that sense of being unclean. Words cannot properly express the magnitude that statement holds for me.

BDSM has changed my relationship with sex, with Him, with myself.

But I think that...I wonder that some things are, or become, inherent...

I like attention from men. I like it a lot. I am a habitual flirt, I like to feel sexy, and did I mention that I'm an attention whore?
It has taken me a very long time to be able to admit and accept this about myself. And some days, the accepting doesn't go so well.

At the same time though...

Often, men scare the shit out of me, and at times, I find their attentions to be extremely disturbing.

And yet...That's part of my twists too--fear gets me off. In a big way.

Dunno...Why this, why now, why does it matter...?
Recent circumstances have brought these issues back into the light for me.

I'm not sure why I have so much appreciation for the attentions of the opposite sex, or maybe if it's just because they are the opposite sex.
The fear though...I have a very good idea of where it came from. It is that idea which makes my sexual attraction to fear somewhat disturbing to me.

I find these extremes within myself annoying--the habitual attention loving flirt who has bouts of extreme and disturbing fear and then gets off on fear?
You deserve a cookie if that made any sense...

My...Distance(?) from sex has a lot to do with denying that flirtatious easy part of me. The more I accept and enjoy my sexuality, the more I see these things in myself.
I spent a long time denying one in order to control the other. I think though, that this...This being his, and not having the control to make the decisions about who touches me, or who I do what with...I have found it oddly liberating.
That's not something one figures their man will love about them though, right? I mean, the flirtatious wife is rarely appreciated...And rightfully so.
I think that the power structure of our relationship eliminates those issues too though--what happens to my body is his choice. And lets be honest, he appreciates a dirty mind, being overwhelmingly blessed with one of his own.

I have a salacious mind an occasionally lascivious character, and am not well known for my ability to exercise self control. Those can be such bad traits when you put them all together.
The decision about what to do with those traits isn't mine anymore though. And that has given me the ability to just be...Me.

It's not always easy though, this accepting that perhaps there are some issues which will always stand, that perhaps the sense of irrational fear and further irrationality which follows it, may never fade....To know that I will, perhaps forever, adore the attentions of which I find myself most uncomfortable with...

Don't even get me going on the hypocrisy of my jealous streak--that's far too much introspection for one day.

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...

That Which Dwells Inside

 I have been thinking again...

I do believe that compartmentalizing parts of oneself can go a long way to avoiding immediate and extreme mental trauma. The problem is, it's not healthy to keep parts of your self locked up for ages on end--it has to come out sometime.
Every part is essential to the whole, and ideally we integrate all that we are into a healthy and complete form. Sounds great...

But the longer you keep part of yourself separate from the rest of you, the harder it is to reintegrate.

This pretty little critter ties in with something about myself that I have been thinking on quite a bit lately. It might not all tie together smoothly, or in a way that makes sense to anyone else. So for that I apologize in advance and say: At least you get a cup (or two), of coffee out of it right?

An often timid lover, I am generally shy and reserved, with a low sex drive...

I consider myself to be a rather desire/sexually repressed person. All of it self-imposed. My theories regarding the reasons for that are probably floating around here somewhere already.

The thing is, I see that part of me as very much like the creature in this picture--a beast that is not easily controlled, often misjudged, and very very dangerous.
Unlike the picture, it is not simplistic. Or perhaps it is. Perhaps it is the most simplistic and basic thing of all.

As animalistic as it is, the creature is also very much like a raging fire.

A very long time ago, I took that fire and tucked it away. Ever since it peeked out, I have known that I couldn't control that part of me. So I attempted to extinguish it's spark as best I could. But there it still sits, very much like this

And there it burns. Too hot to touch, too strong to extinguish, too dangerous to release, too terrifying to acknowledge.
Trust in Master to control it you say? A logical and valid solution, I'll admit.
But there is no logic here, and many things are easier spoken than experienced. His ability to control the fire is not in question...After all, the yearning to escape my own confines is merely in order to enter those of his making.

The creature of my darkest desires, my wanton abandon, the whore I hoard inside...she is beautiful. Deadly and dangerous, she stalks my mind. For now I am prey. But if she should come out to play, I become predator.

For that part of me, there is only dark desires. A willingness to do anything in order to feed the needs of that hungry beast. She is insatiable and wanton, with no care for those who stand in her way. The ultimate whore in predator form.

Yes, Alpha would match her every step of the way. Because inside, he is all of that beast and then some.
I think that he keeps it contained to a certain extent, in consideration of me.
Yet I wonder...
Would it be possible for him to truly love the beast? If she could not be controlled, she would be contained, forcefully chained back into her cage. He has said as much.

Yet still I wonder. And watch the flames as they quietly flicker...

The Monogamous Whore?

I was spewing thoughts into my drafts folder when a comment came in on my previous post that sent my train of thought in a completely different direction. Not sure exactly where that direction will lead, but here it is.

The words "slut" and "whore" are ones that tend to carry negative connotations. They are not things most people want to be, or names we want people to call us. The titles are spoken and received as insults.
Because when someone is all pissed off at you and yells that you're a whore? It's not a good thing.

The thing is though, human beings are multifaceted creatures. Just because a woman is a lady, doesn't mean there is not also a part of her that is a whore. Kind of like just because a woman runs a business, does not mean that there's no chance she has a need to submit.

And there is a the lady who could have been, inside every corner prostitute. Someone's daughter, mother, sister...

What we perceive when we see people is not always equivalent to what they really are. Because it takes many parts to make up a whole. And sometimes, when we pick and choose which pieces of the whole we are willing to accept in ourselves, we ignore parts that make us complete.

The concept of Alpha calling me a slut was introduced into our relationship during sex. It went through my head, and my mouth, in it's typical fashion, opened of its own accord and asked "Am I your dirty little slut?"

His shock was palpable. Because, well...I had lots of issues in the talking dirty department. But he ran with it anyways. And I loved it.

Then "whore" came into play. In and of itself, I'm not a huge fan of being called that. But when he throws in that key possessive phrase and the sentence becomes something along the lines of "I own you whore." Ah well, everything changes.

Why don't I have a problem with him calling me those things? Because he owns me.And it turns me on.

I can be anything.
I can be a prude,
a whore,
an expression of innocence,
a slut,
a lady,
a queen,
a slave...
I am
whatever he says I am.
I am me.

But within all of those contexts I am still his.

I was having a hard time clarifying my lines of thought and Alpha made an analogy for me.
If someone who is gay, lives their life in a heterosexual relationship, does that mean that they aren't really gay? I don't think that it does. You are what you are. The difference comes from whether you acknowledge it or not.
And I believe that it is quite possible to be a happily owned whore in a monogamous relationship.

Why do I actually like it when my husband who is the only person I have sex with calls me a slut or a whore?

Because him doing so gives me the freedom to be who and what I am. It acknowledges those parts of me and makes them okay. I don't have to hide pieces of who I am from him or myself.
And I don't actually have to make the choice whether or not to act on it--because he makes that choice for me.

Alpha calling me a whore is like having the layers stripped away--it is saying, "I know who and what you are. And I love you for, all of it. Because you are not just a whore--you are My whore".

He doesn't just tell me that I am a whore and treat me like one.
He tells me that I am beautiful and he loves me, that owning me pleases him and that I am amazing. 
He can treat me like a filthy whore one instant, and the most spectacular and special creature on earth the next.
And it melts me. This works for us.