Slavely slut or slutty slave?

Master and his ‘word porn’ are constant sources of pondering material for me. Sometimes I just wish I had a voice recorder to take it all down so I could dissect what he says and process it a bit better. As it is, my sieve-like memory only leaves me with disjointed fragments and scraps of his ‘word porn’ that disappear all too quickly. I guess that’s why I like his ‘thoughtful’ blogs like this one and this one. They give me a chance to chew over his quirks in my own time.

I’m always trying to figure him out- work out what makes him tick and understand why he is the way he is. Although he’s less of an enigma to me compared to when I first arrived, I still have an endless fascination with his interest in me and his desires to do what he does. His word porn has revealed to me on occasions a scary amount of stuff about me that I thought no-one but me knew or understood, so I’d like to be able to relax back and leaf through him like a book too. 

A topic that popped up in the other night’s session was the fact that I am a slave to whomever owns me. He pointed out to me the fact that I do the things I do because I am a slave and not because I specifically have any feelings for him. He said it wouldn’t matter who I was owned by, I would do what was required by the person who owned me, regardless of whatever else was happening outside the owner/property dimension of the relationship. In effect, he was saying that I was ‘slavely slutty’.

When he said that to me I was immediately taken back to the time a couple of years ago when I’d just left my first owner and was wandering around feeling very lost. I remember vividly wanting someone, anyone to take up my leash. I’m not sure that I would of run off to join the first person who offered me a collar (like I mistakenly did the first time), but I do remember a feeling of desperate ‘useless-ness’.

Another fact that brought home to me the truth in what Master said about me being ‘slavely slutty’ was what happened with my former owner. Although he emotionally starved me on a lot of levels, I stubbornly carried out my duties as a slave. I continued on with the tasks and meaningless gestures, even while I knew he didn’t give a shit, all because he was my owner and I was his slave. I was getting nothing out of the relationship, but the fact was that I needed to be a slave, in whatever capacity- even if it was in name only.

The relationship outside the owner/property dynamic between the two people sharing a life together is a minefield alive with loaded emotional ammunition. I wasn’t quite ready for the feelings I developed for my first owner so I was hit very hard when things broke down. I had expected the relationship to remain an emotionally-void exchange of power in which he was master and I was slave and things would be nice and simple. Needless to say, the feelings towards him that I ended up with made me stay many more months than I should have even after the whole owner/property dynamic had broken down.

But I didn’t want a relationship. I wanted to be a piece of property with an owner and when my emotional wounds had scabbed over enough for me to feel ready to start into another owner/property relationship, I was determined not to let feelings get in the way again. One of the biggest reasons I chose to come to live with Master was because he had a reputation for being a ‘hard-assed dom’. All our conversations had been very firmly focussed on what was required of me as a slave and I had a sense that things would be very clear and I wouldn’t need to be picking my way through the emotional minefield again. I was prepared to be a slave and do what was required to whomever could give me the environment to do it in. Master seemed to be the one who could do it, so yes, in a sense I was a slutty slave- ready to give her all to the person who could take up her leash.

The ‘me slave, you master’ thing worked for a time, but as Master correctly pointed out in another ‘word porn’ session, I need the emotion, the affection and the cuddles and kisses. Master says now that I’m a lot more relaxed, that I’ve found my sense of humour. Well, I can say that that’s mostly due to the fact that I’ve let my guard down. Originally I didn’t want to invest emotionally in my slave term deposit, but after I did, the dividends are definitely paying off.

Yes, I’m picking my way through the minefield again and occasionally I misjudge my steps and the whole thing blows up big time, but the surrounding grass makes for a nice soft landing. At the end of day, I may be slavely slutty but a slutty slave is what Master wants and I’m happy to oblige.
 

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4 thoughts on “Slavely slut or slutty slave?

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  1. it isnt every day a slave gets what she desperatly needs or finds a Master who will fulfill those needs and also give affection/cuddles ect, you were blessed in finding one who can and will give you this…i really am envious.

  2. your a complex soul

    Part of the pleasure of owning you is watching you angst and your processing of thoughts through your mind over and over again wanting to work your way to a solution.

    Part of my pleasure comes from spoiling you, giving you a reward for doing the right thing or trying to do the right thing and then watching you trying to influence me to give you more rewards for nothing just because you think your cute and you are cute but rewards are for effort not cuteness.

    Part of the pleasure comes from using you for what your intended for ad then watching you react as if your still free and what l just did was a liberty and an affront to your dignity and then seeing you come to the realisation oh wait no that was when l was free but now l am slave yes he can do that to me and he just did and you come back all coy and apologetic hours later.

    l love the fact that you want attention, the way you present your bottie for a spanking but then looking at me with those eyes of yours saying the bottie was presented for a playful spanking not an ouchie one.

    Your a complex little soul but your a slave girlie and l enjoy using you and keeping you on my leash chain.

    Master

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