No need for Slut Shaming

When I started to explore kink, as a teen, I didn’t have a label.

I was just a young woman exploring her sexuality, but the label that seemed to fit best was slut. To my young mind as a prolific fucker of men I clearly fit this term.  I didn’t want a relationship, I just wanted sex. 

And by hopping beds it was easier to stop them getting attached. There was a certain amount of shame that came from this self-given title, and over the course of my marriage this term was used to shame me at any given opportunity.

I would have done anything to not be called slut ever again, it was a stick he used to beat me with.

Towards the end of our marriage I had a lightbulb moment, and realised that there was more to life than darkness, misery and hiding myself away out of fear of not being enough. Research gave me an insight into the label that I felt was the best fit: SUBMISSIVE.

Then I met Sir and the rest is history.

Well, no, not really. Life is never that clear cut, is it?

Over the last six years I have discovered there are many labels that I could wear quite comfortably, but many of them are so limiting that I find it frustrating. I am a queer, masochistic exhibitionist submissive with a predilection for rope. 

The problem with all of these labels is they often come with stereotypes, and I don’t feel that I fit with any of those.

And the list is ever evolving as well, the label that is pressed to my chest today, that helps pigeon hole me so others understand me better will as quickly be irrelevant. So the label that fits best, and that I will always wear with pride is: ME.

And that is absolutely the end of the story.

Or is it?

No, of course it isn’t! I missed a label out, didn’t I?

Slut.

More importantly I am Sir’s slut.

In the same way that I am submissive but only to Him, I am a slut, but only His slut.

I love the way that being owned and valued has given me the ability to reclaim this title. The men who have called me “slut” have been poor excuses for human beings.

They have tried to make me feel shame for something that nobody should feel shame for. I may well be promiscuous, but I am a decent, kind and thoughtful creature.

This Man has never once called me a slut. It has been inferred, in the most wonderful ways.

And from very early on He has asked me to call myself His slut, as a result she has become tightly entwined with Him. Sir’s slut. Noone elses.

No longer am I confused about what the title Slut means, like I was in my youth. I also feel no shame for being a slut, His slut!

Slut is a label I delight in these days.

Photo by thefrizzkid.