A Slut is Born

Negotiating our first scene, two and a half years ago, I wrote on the list I was making for daddy, under “hard limits”: “no yelling or name-calling (I'm never a bitch, a whore, or a cunt -- or their equivalents in any language).” Were I to think of the word “slut” at that moment, I’m sure I would’ve added it to the list. I hated the idea of being verbally abused or degraded – I still do – and I could think of no other meaning or purpose for the words I listed.

A few months ago, at Fet Fest Con, I picked out a choker for myself – on a narrow strip of black velvet four letters in silver, covered in crystals: S L U T. Beautiful. It’s one of my favorite adornments, a collar of a kind – it stands for “daddy’s little slut,” a term of endearment I came to love. Meanwhile, the words “bitch” and “cunt” still make me cringe – they have that tinge of malice in them, those sexualized terms used to denigrate me for behaviors that may have nothing to do with sex, while “slut” and “whore” reflect my sexual practices and desires without inherent judgment – it’s up to the user to infuse them with disapproval.

I think my change of feelings towards the word “slut” came after reading “The Ethical Slut” during yet another upheaval of slut-shaming in the media. Partially as a tribute to the paradigm-shifting book I was reading (yes, decades after initial publication it can still be a powerful discovery), and partially in an attempt to reclaim another sexual word from being a form of scorn, I publicly (to a group of three classmates who happened to be around during the moment of this decision) declared myself a slut. Little did I know how far this choice would take me….

There are many scenes I’m sure to remember from our week at Hedonism II. The sexual highpoint of the trip, however, at least the way it seems to me right now, came at the end of a really hot threesome my daddy arranged for me, with him and a young, attractive fellow from England. This was the second time the three of us were playing around, but the first that we made it to a bed. I was sucking the young man’s cock, growling with lust, as my daddy pounded me from behind… Or maybe it happened later, after I was double-penetrated (I rode our friend as daddy took me in the ass, something that usually takes time and care, but this time was miraculously smooth and painless, as well as, coincidentally, incredibly hot), and was lying spread whorishly wide on our bed, breathing heavily... No, even later, as, exhausted but still turned on we started going at it again, and this time I was sucking my daddy’s cock, massively in heat and drooling all over it, my pussy pounded by the nameless young man: my daddy grabbed me by the hair, forcefully pulled my face off his cock and, holding it close to his own, told me, sternly, lovingly, tenderly, that I was such a little slut, his favorite little whore… That was the moment I burst, orgasming with my body and soul, from the very depth of my heart, my loins, my mind… I have never been happier; I have never been more loved and accepted for who I was, for my entirety, for my physicality, for my material, non-pretending, non-acting, non-appropriate self that I’ve kept hidden from everyone for the duration of my life. With those few words my daddy released me and allowed me to finally and fully be me.

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Recently we began experimenting with hypnosis. I think next time we’re playing around, I want the words “slut” and “whore,” when said by my daddy, to be ingrained as triggers for all my future orgasms. Then again, they may already be…. 

The Double Triple Life

I’ve been wondering what kind of person it takes to lead a truly polyamorous lifestyle. And by that I don’t mean a mostly heteronormative couple that every once in a while accepts a third partner – or another couple – into their bed. I am talking instead about having lovers – multiple lovers, who themselves have multiple lovers – or living in a communal arrangement, even as small as a threesome. On one hand, it seems like most people’s ultimate fantasy – in the time when fear of commitment has become the norm, and most of us don’t want to close ourselves to the numerous choices and options that may become available in the future, this is a way to ensure that we never get bored, never have to settle down. On the other hand, though, there is the reality of such an arrangement and all the emotional responsibility that it carries.

I suppose there are those who manage to get away with staying fuck-buddies with their multiple partners and not really feeling jealousy towards their other arrangements, as well as having the confidence to believe that those buddies will always be there when they are needed, without much upkeep or maintenance of those relationships. There are people who feel this way about friendships, and so, I suppose, in sex they act the same. But what if one is looking for a deeper, more permanent connection than that, a chance to really get to know the people that they sleep with, to form a bond that would be more than an every-once-in-a-while escape from the monotony of life? What if one wants to have someone they could count on when they are in a pickle, and also, perhaps, share some of those tasks of life that require a longer commitment – like living together, or raising kids, or taking care of each other’s pets? Is that still possible in a non-monogamous relationship? And if it is, what is the price? This kind of arrangement can’t be careless, “let’s see how it goes and split when it doesn’t” one – there are legal issues involved, and more importantly, other people who didn’t get to choose this lifestyle (like the children who are born into it). So that means commitment, a very serious one, to stick together through thick and thin for a lengthy period of time – even if not living together, then at least working with each other in a peaceful and reliable manner. But then, in a polyamorous relationship, how many people can one possibly make this commitment to? Without even taking it that far, how many people can we be accountable to, even for minor things, emotionally responsive and decent to? In an economy of a human life, that cannot exceed 24 hour days and a certain limit of energy, how much can we actually give? 

There is time that you have to spend together – or at least communicating with each other – for any relationship to continue without the partners losing touch with each other’s real selves (as opposed to the illusions we have of each other when we are not together, ones that may eventually have no basis in reality and lead to us questioning in dismay: who are you?). Then there is occasional help and care that you have to provide if you ever expect to be cared for and helped when you are in need. There are reassurances that we all need sometimes. There are nights when we don’t want to be alone. There are events which are more fun when attended together (kink parties, movie viewings, museum trips) – or at least more bearable with a partner (weddings, office parties, funerals). And then there is down time, time we need for ourselves, to do our work, to reflect, to think – or just empty our minds and take a break from constantly thinking about everyone else. All of this is hard to fit into a day even if you have just one other person to keep in mind – in addition to the rest of life, of course: work, chores, children, friends. Can it all really be done with multiple partners? And if so, what a carefully arranged and balanced hierarchy it needs to be….. 

I was thinking, too, how easily an arrangement like this can lead to schizophrenia or split-personality disorders. If every person you are with brings out a different side of you, an intimate relationship will do so to an even higher degree. The power dynamics will be different. The things you do (or want to do) with every partner will be different. In kinky relationships, I imagine it would be even more pronounced – as your lovers will have different kinks (or at least, prioritize them differently), the fantasies that you act out will put you in completely different roles. And those roles, in turn, will influence your identity – what you perceive yourself to be. While I am all for dropping the rigidity with which we define our identity, how fluid can it really be before we lose ourselves completely?

Three Thoughts on Threesomes

Experience: bringing two of my lovers together, one -- a lover of sometime, whose body I knew, whose emotional buttons I knew how to push, but we have begun to fall into a routine and drift apart, to different desires and separate futures. The other lover was new: in fact we had never actually made love before. We spent a night together, caressing and kissing, and then falling sweetly asleep in each other’s arms. I think I may have been her first girl. 

The threesome wasn’t my idea, but my lover’s long time fantasy, and I went along, begrudging the intimacy I’d have to give up, the private, one-on-one explorations of each of their bodies and souls. The intimacy that can only grow, I think, when you’re alone with someone, for a long time, talking, kissing, touching, opening up your hearts. I was afraid that when two of the people I was in love with – or was falling in love with – would connect, my deep connection with each of them personally would somehow be trivialized. I wasn’t jealous, not at that point – I knew that both of them were more attracted to me than to each other – but I was worried about a loss, of some kind, an emotional dulling. 

It started innocently enough, though slightly unnaturally. In my mind, I had a picture of my female lover and me meeting first, and starting to make love to each other as my other lover walked in and joined us. Perhaps, since we haven’t had sex yet, I wanted to have that moment – our first – to myself, not having to share it. But instead we talked, fully dressed, not very comfortable with each other, apprehensive, not sure how to start or what to do first. The rest of the night went accordingly. When we finally ended up in bed, all three of us, and started exploring each other’s bodies, it felt too manual, too trial-and-error, and not erotic or passionate enough. I still feel that in the privacy between two people this initial exploration can be very exciting, because no one will see the mistakes you make, you’re following your gut, not performing for the audience, worrying about making it look good. I also felt like a mediator between the two of them – constantly making sure no limits were pushed, nothing was done to spoil or end the scene. I felt more like a guardian than a participant, though during moments when we fell in sync, even I managed to relax and enjoy. I loved the feeling of their hands all over me, not knowing which touch was whose; I felt overwhelmed to the point of orgasm by the constant caresses that flowed into one another, the two bodies moving with mine, the heat that was building up between us. I peaked in the selfish moment when I forgot my role and let my body be pleasured. 

So where was the pain in all of this, the punishment I need in order to cum? I suppose I should’ve mentioned that it all started with a playful spanking, the two of them taking turns at spanking and whipping me with their hands at first and then different implements. While being dominated and hurt by two people I love is one of my hottest fantasies, this too felt a little too staged, too manual, my experienced lover teaching the other how to wield a belt – a lesson with my body as the training textbook: “ouch, too hard! Hmm… not hard enough… right there, like that! Again!” That is not a punishment I can believe (or fully enjoy). And most of all, just as I suspected, I was too dedicated to making this threesome work for everyone else – I was constantly performing, trying to make it look better than it was. 

The hardest part, in retrospect, was watching my two lovers make love to each other. While they still managed to involve me – I was right there, by their side, caressed and kissed all through their act – I felt I couldn’t watch, like, if I opened my eyes, I’d see a scene I would never be able to erase from my mind, their faces actually showing how much they were enjoying one another. Though not jealous at the time, I was afraid of future jealousy it would cause, because at every future moment I would be making love to them, I would know that another body, another person has caused that same expression of bliss, that same physical pleasure. It would simply be…. less personal… next time. That was the loss I was so afraid of! 

And so, this experience behind me, I am still not sure how I feel about threesomes. I am still not completely certain I have been in one. And having spoken to the other participants, I see that none of us truly enjoyed it. I wonder – what went wrong? What could or should have been done differently? I am curious to try this again, perhaps with people who are more experienced, but I am also still reticent…. Why bother with a group? Why not keep the sex one-on-one, and share my lovers by speaking about the experiences with one another (because that excites all of us, sharing intimate stories, imagining each other making love to someone else). Or does that just work for me? 

Ironically, the three of us have grown a little further apart since. Perhaps that is temporary, and we’ll find the way back to each other. We did have a good time just hanging out together, before and especially after. It still felt a bit awkward (for me), but being out and about, socializing, enjoying ourselves together but not in any intimate ways, helped relieve some of the tension and pressure that our somewhat failed menage-a-trois didn’t release. I guess time will show…. Meanwhile, how do I get myself out of this down, this ridiculous and really unfounded fear that I am a little less loved, a little less special to my lovers? 

So my three thoughts on threesomes (a note to my future self): 

1. Do not bring your lovers together. As the old wisdom says (though for different reasons), you're bound to lose them both.And being a constant mediator is no fun.
2. Make sure the attraction between all three members of the group is somewhat equal and balanced. That way, there are less chances of any one feeling left out. Perhaps, spend more time together. Grow to like one another. Get more comfortable.
3. If you begin with an apprehension, your fears will most likely come true. Perhaps it's like a wish-fulfillment -- you get exactly what you expect, and if you're afraid of something, it will happen, because it's already happened -- or has been prearranged -- in your mind. 

I have more thoughts than this, but I am afraid to sum up too neatly an experience that hasn't yet resolved itself in my mind and heart. I don't know where it's all going to take me, and for now, I'm ok with that.....