Although this title might conjure up images of two girls wrestling it out in jelly/mud/oil (and FYI, I’ve *never* understood men’s fascination with those types of activities) I’m actually referring to the difference between your every day, run-of-the-mill slave mainly in a D/s relationship to be controlled (sex can be optional and denial of it is often practised by the domlyone) and a sex slave which, by my definition, is there mainly to do all sorts of nasty things in the bedroom and have/give copious amounts of sexual pleasure.
During our whole hard-limits talk the other day, Master once again pointed out to me that my cunt is for his pleasure, not mine and that he will do with it what he wants and if he wants it ringed, it will stay ringed.
Okay…I get that. I’m his property and by default he can do what he wants with his stuff, but what I’m starting to realise is that his idea of a slave and my idea of a slave are *totally* different. I guess I’ve always thought of being used for sex as an integral part of being a slave (i.e. sex slave), whereas he feels it’s optional (i.e. slave). After all this time, I’m just understanding that his ‘slave’ and my ‘slave’ are two very different beasts – mine having two backs and his just breaking his/her back in the fields 🙂
Going back a few months ago when I had a meltdown about my cunt, one of my main issues was that I felt like I wasn’t ‘serving the purpose of a slave’ by having my cunt out of action i.e. it being so sore that touching/sex is totally out of the question (Well, I’d like it to be off the menu, but if Master doesn’t mind his slave crying her eyes out while he is doing what he wants, then it stays on the menu. Generally he is very good about though, and will stop when it gets more than I can bear, or if I’ve told him it’s sore he will stay away from the area.)
To me, having a non-functioning cunt was a bit like having my collar removed – I felt like I was no longer a ‘slave’. Inside I just kept thinking, ‘How can I be a slave if I can’t have sex? What good am I like this?’ Inside Master’s brain however, I was still his slave, nothing had changed and life was going on – just with me having a sore pussy.
By my reckoning, as a Master, you should want you slave to be a horny little slut, getting herself all nice and juicy several times a day so that she can ‘serve her purpose’. By Master’s reckoning, slaves should feel incredibly lucky whenever they are given the ‘gift’ of being sexually used (as it’s not the norm in a slave’s life). In a sense, Master’s idea of a slave is a lot purer than mine is and a lot closer to what slaves have been used for historically.
That’s not to say that I don’t get ravished. Of course I do! In fact, I would say that I get ravished much, much more than I get beaten. Master’s definition of slave though, is that sexual use is not their main purpose and that a slave should be ‘available’ for anything, not just ‘sexually available’ (which I felt that I wasn’t due to my non-fully-functional pussy and I couldn’t think about anything else).
I’ve been a long time in learning this particular lesson and perhaps it’s why of late I’m okay with whatever, if anything, is on the play menu. It was another piece of the slavery puzzle I needed to learn and funnily enough, every time a little piece of the puzzle clicks into place, I become more peaceful within.
In case you’re wondering how I started thinking about this, it was the following question Florida Dom asked:
Didn’t you say in a recent post that he offered to let you take the rings out because of all the problems with them yet you decided not to.Yet you also say you wouldn’t have agreed ito them in the beginning if you knew then what you know now. And how much pain and hassle do they still cause you now?
Could you delve into this topic more and explain your current thoughts?
(Just skip the rest of this if you’re o.v.e.r me whining about my pussy all the time…)
In answer to the question, yes, Master did say he would let me take them out (he has since said under no circumstances are they coming out), but after nearly 3 yrs of putting up with them and coming this far, I didn’t want to just toss in the towel. It’s difficult to explain…I’m sure most people would say, ‘Take them the fuck out!’ the minute they could, but for me, giving in was akin to saying I was a ‘loser’. Having said that though, if I could go back in time, I would definitely say a big fat no to the piercings. I miss how my lips used to be…
Pain and hassle?? Well, as far as pain goes, I have good days and bad days. Good days are where there’s a few tugs and twists, but it’s okay – mostly due to the fact that I’m used to it now. Bad days are where walking brings tears to my eyes and several repetitions of ‘fuck, fuck, fuck’ are muttered along with lots of sucking in of breath through gritted teeth. A couple of times I’ve literally burst into tears and had to sit down while out shopping.
Hassle includes a daily salt bath and cleaning with cotton tips, several checks a day to make sure my balls are still screwed on, and many, many underwear rearrangements (oh, and I’ve tried the no underwear thing and I’ve found that I’m better off with the support underwear provides.) There is also the application of cortisone cream or soluble aspirin on occasion. Peeing requires special wiping techniques (the dab-dab instead of the wipe-wipe) and getting the hitachi to a pleasure zone without hitting anything down there requires a university degree. Hair removal is also incredibly challenging (I used to get waxed, but the chance of having one of them ripped out was just too high, so now I use depilatory cream.) And last but not least, you don’t even want to know what happens down there when I get my period.
Currently, I have a love-hate relationship with my cunt. Yes, they look great and admitedly, I love being able to say that I have piercings down there and being able to show them off, but they have a *huge* impact on the quality of my life. Ultimately though, regardless of what I feel about them I’ve just gotta suck it up ’cause what the man wants, the man gets.