Uncomfortable in my own skin

Master is a very sexual being. He needs at least a daily ravishing and has absolutely no problems talking about how I make him feel. He indulges,  pretty much without fail, in his word porn during every interrogation session and basically, is just very comfortable with the reality of sex between two people.

Me? I like to refer to my pink bits with the non-embarassment-inducing euphemism of C U Next Tuesday and I blush to the roots of my hair when I have to do dirty talk. For all of my naked photos on the internet and a few sessions of public play, I’m just not that comfortable with myself in a sexual role.

I always think it’s great when people can put their sexuality out there. I’m soooooo not like that. Anyone would think I spent 12 years of my school education in a catholic girl’s school for all of my inability to put it out there. Japan was good for me in that the nether region is referred to as ‘that place over there’ and speaking in another language always makes things less real for some reason. Back in Australia with the harsh reality of being a slave for (sexual) use and pleasure, I’m walking around in skin that just doesn’t quite fit.

I desperately want to be that sexual vixen that in my mind’s eye, all slaves are,  but I just feel so childish and inept like I’m playing dress-up in my mum’s high heels and pearls. My bashful years of teenage puberty where the thought of a kiss grossed me out  have somehow seemed to have carried on into my thirties and I still like to snigger at natural phenomena shaped liked genitals. Will I ever grow up?

Master has been on a mission for the last three years to get me out of henny penny mode. He demands that I wear ‘slut wear’, boots, put on bright lipstick in the pinkest trailer-park-trash-pink I can find. While he gets a certain amount of pleasure from the eyecandy effect, I think he is also hoping that one day it will snap me out of my dressing-for-comfort style. So far, if given the choice, I will generally dress for comfort, but there are times I will also dress in slut just because I know he likes me making the effort.

Slavery, is in some ways, an easy way for me to be something I’m naturally not – a slut. As Master’s slave I’m expected to be a slut for his use and pleasure. So even if the original me is not a slut, the new-improved, now-with-granola slut me that is created as a result of wearing the shiny thingie,  can service random men, be dragged through the bilge of sexual humiliation and degradation and have the most basic of personal needs, her own orgasms, taken away. The now-with-granola slut also has a permanent collar pierced through her clithood that, for other women is added to give pleasure, but for her, it’s there simply to remind her that she’s owned property.

While my skin might be a bit loose here or a bit tight there, the shiny thingie makes it all okay.

Except the kissing thing – nothing takes kissing off my uberly high ewwww factor list. It’s just wrong.


6 thoughts on “Uncomfortable in my own skin

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  1. pucker up baby lol…

    i love kissing passionatly but only with special people, there needs to be a connection there, otherwise it turns me right off and though people think i am comfortable with who i am and that i can take off my clothes at the drop of a hat, when it comes to talking dirty, i find that one of the hardest things to do, i never know what to say, it sounds so corny to me, i splutter and stammer and giggle and work my way out of it most times.

    1. We all know you like to take your clothes off at the drop of a hat 😉

      I agree with the sounding corny thing. That’s exactly how I feel, like I’m reading from a script or something…lol.

  2. Seriously? I LOVE kissing! I can get lost in a kiss for hours if my lips didn’t chap and scream for some form of moisture besides my partners saliva well before that happened.

    I do have a bit of a problem with dirty talk though especially when I’m put on the spot…now if I’ve had a few drinks it just flows right out of me and I don’t blush unless someone happens to mention it later when I’ve sobered up. There is one particular incident that always seems to happen when I’ve had a bit much to drink *goes crimson* and so far I’ve managed to avoid that with Master *phew!*

    1. SERIOUSLY. I have never and probably will never enjoy kissing. I’ve just got such a hang up about bodily fluids that I can’t enjoy it.

      And you’re a grade A tart so I’m sure you have *no* problems with talking dirty!

  3. Oh, i’m so glad that i’m not the only one who isn’t comfy with the dirty talk! After all this time & all we’ve done, Daddy thinks it’s so silly how awkward and embarrassed i get by saying anything sexy-dirty out loud. i pretty much have to be told exactly what He wants me to say and then i can repeat it back to Him, but i think it comes out as much more of an awkward stammer than a sexy come-on! lol

    He tried to snap me out of it by having me read naughty books to Him. Needless to say, i got a sound lashing or two for… um… editing? out. the icky words. lol

    Of course, i *lurve* it when He uses them on me. Just can’t get them to come out of this girl’s mouth without serious discomfort. i guess i could blame it on those years in Catholic school. 😉

    Kissies are nice only with someone who knows how to do it right. It’s amazing how many people get to adulthood and don’t know how to give a proper nummy kiss!

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