It is Time to Stop Living in Fear

I am tired.

I am tired of my own shame.

I am tired of my own fear.

I am the product of a highly religious household: an environment that shaped my talents and tempered my discipline, but it also made me believe that at a core level, I was defective.
There was no abuse, no hatred, and no fear growing up, but there was judgement.
There were vast, seemingly unnavigable oceans of rules and boundaries and expectations.
I learned to stay afloat by building my raft out of lies.

I lied about who I loved.
I lied about who I preferred.
I lied about what I enjoyed.
I lied about who I was.

Even as a ProDomme and a staunch supporter of Kink and the Responsible BDSM Lifestyle, I still live a double life.

I still live in fear of being outed, of being exposed, of being completely open and honest about the work that I do.

I am afraid of being disowned by the vanilla, sheltered, hetero-normative family members who cannot fathom why I would be, in their words, so different; so sinful; so degenerate; so wrong.

All these negative words, all these paper bullets of the brain: they have kept us silent, for too long.
They have kept us in shame, for too long.
They have kept us separate from one another, for too long.

I submit, as one who has fears and trepidations about being outed, that we cannot live in anxiety.
The cycle of shame has to stop, now.
It is not right for us to push our lifestyle on others, nor is it right for us to demand all accept our individual proclivities.
It is, however, time to accept ourselves and stop living in fear.

Fear keeps us apart.
Fear keeps us out of communication.
Fear keeps us angry, alone, frustrated, and desperate.
Fear keeps us from asking for what we need.
Fear keeps us from finding our happiness.

It is time to stop living in fear.

"What do you think of the word 'slut'?"

"What do you think of the word, 'slut,' Madame?"

Ok - this may be rant-worthy.
Get a beverage, relax, and prepare accordingly.

Let's start with an initial reaction:
I love the word slut.

I love the way it slides through my teeth, rolls off my tongue, and cracks off my hard palate.

Sssssss-llllll-uT.

It snaps a sub's head around, when uttered out of nowhere.
It makes men blush, when they hear it applied to them, for the first time, and then they blush even more deeply when they realize it's a compliment.
Slut.
It tastes good, it feels good, and it is visceral in its sound.
You cannot say it gently.
You cannot sugar coat it.
Slut.
It's a damn fine title, and a delicious way to tell a pet exactly how proud you are of their overt sexual need.

Now that I've gotten my excited self out of the way, let's look at this word in a different context.
Slut.
I've been called this, by an attacker.
Slut.
I've heard it said in disgusted whispers by women who wish they could let go of their Puritanical hang ups, but instead simply look down on those who have let go.
Slut.
I've heard dozens upon dozens of women tell me that an attacker/abuser used this word to demean her; used this word as justification for hurting her; used this word to label her as someone who deserved rape.

There's no denying it - in the vanilla world, in most of the world, this word is not used as a compliment.
It's used to keep sexual women, or anyone else who does not conform to strict notions of sexual propriety, in a tidy little four letter box of shame.

I say, fuck that.

Fuck. That. Noise.

I say, slut is a fantastic word that needs to be reworked, overhauled, and taken back.
I am, by no means, the first nor the last person to say this.

I'm not saying that women should parade about and happily proclaim that they are sluts, because, frankly, out of play, the word doesn't carry positive mojo.
We can't use what we don't yet own - so easy on wearing shirts that say slut to the club - it will probably not work in your favor.
Is this ok? No. You should be able to wear whatever you damn well please, but I'm living in the real world where wearing a shirt with SLUT printed across the boobs will garner you either multiple gropings or some serious shit talking, neither of which I would enjoy on a night out.
But hey, if you want to do it anyway, I salute your fortitude and hope you get out there and change some minds!

But back to the happy place of slut.
(Sssssssssssslut)

I can't help but imagine one of my clients, on all fours, drooling with a plug in his ass, shit-eating grin on his face, looking up at me and positively BEAMING when I call him a slut, and say it with a smile and a pat on the head.
He's earned that title.
He's earned it by allowing himself to ENJOY his sexuality.
He's earned it by not giving two tenths of a shit about what society may have to say, regarding his personal proclivities.

I think of a young woman who learned how to enjoy the word slut during sessions:
How she would blush at first when it was used, but then worked harder to earn the right to hear that title.
Who let go of her embarrassment, poor body image, and insecurities and LOVED HERSELF enough to get slutty, which really just means getting free.

In the end, Slut, to me, is a wonderful word because it means that the submissive has let go, entirely, and has asked, begged for, and enjoyed what they need, and done so without reservation.

Let us be proud of our submissive sluts - and let's never shame those who responsibly reach that level of freedom.

"What's the point of being Dominated?"

"What's the point of a BDSM session? If I told someone that I was paying a woman to come to my house, kick me in the balls and then slap me before shoving things in my ass, I can't even imagine what they would say to me."

First of all, this cannot be boiled down to a simple goods-for-cash dynamic.
Yes, I am getting paid.
Yes, you are the one paying me.
But I am not a convenience store with product on the shelves, ready for consumption.
We must communicate.
You must be willing to bare your needs, desires, fetishes, and whole sexual self to me, in order for me to give you the EXPERIENCE you desire.

You're paying me to give you the sensory and mental input you crave, in a stylized manner that allows you to give up the constant drive to control and withdraw.

You're paying me to get what you want, the way you want it, in a safe and secure setting, without any fear or shame.

Reducing what you want to the lowest common denominator ("come to my house, kick me in the balls, slap me before shoving things in my ass") feeds a perceived "wrongness" of it.

What I do is not wrong, but it is taboo, and it is not for the faint of heart.
There will be consensual pain, but it is a portal - it allows you to let go of the other types of pain that plague you.

The concept of "how much can you know about yourself, if you've never been in a fight" applies here, as well: how much can you know about yourself until you let go, and give up control to me?

 Asking "what's the point" of a session is like asking "what's the point of sex, for pleasure?" - the point is the emotional, physical, sensory, and mental input.

The point is experiencing pleasure on your own terms, in the way you most desire to feel pleasure.