Having gone to an all girls private school, a slut was someone who was known to be (or at the very least believed to be) sexually active and was known (or believed) to have had sex with more than a “socially acceptable” number of partners. Now, I’ve no idea what that “socially acceptable” number is, but given that I had fucked a fair number of partners, both male and female, before I left school, I dare say that I qualify on those grounds. I’m certainly not going to quibble about the number itself.
A definition in an old dictionary I once found was something like this:
Slut: A sexually promiscuous woman. Differentiated from a whore insomuch as she gives freely of her body, whereas the whore doth give use of hers by way of commerce.
Well, as I am by pretty much any definition a sexually promiscuous woman, it seems a safe bet that I qualify on those grounds too.
Another definition I’ve encountered is that a slut is someone who has had more sexual partners than birthdays. Guess what? Yes, quite clearly, I qualify here too. In fact, I qualified somewhere between my 16th and 17th birthdays and, even if I were never to shag another person in my life, I suspect I actually wouldn’t live long enough to ever discharge my insluttedness.
The two things all these definitions have in common is that:
- A slut is a woman; and
- The woman in question has had multiple sexual partners.
Basically then, what I am saying is, that by any common definition you care to use, I am a slut!
There, I’ve said it, I am a slut and, frankly, I’m actually quite proud of it. Not so much of the number per se, but from the fact that my wanton promiscuity has taught me a shitload about who I am and has made me the person I am today. I wouldn’t be the Morag I am if I hadn’t become a slut.
Even today, with the guidance of Master C, I am still a slut. Very specifically, I am Master C’s slut, granted, but a slut nonetheless.
You see, to me, being a slut is an attitude, not the number of people you fucked. It’s about being comfortably deviant in the bedroom (or kitchen, or driveway, or wherever…), it’s about being able to enjoy certain sexual activities that you could never imagine your parents doing (God forbid that my mum ever did even a fraction of the stuff I’ve done, and if she did, I never want to know), it’s about being confident in your sexuality and your sexual tastes and appetites and using that confidence to get what you want.
It’s not necessarily about being submissive, although you can be, and I most certainly am; but it is about exploring your boundaries and broadening them wherever possible. As I’ve said numerous times before, sexual acts are generally performed on us women because we are designed to be on the receiving end, but that doesn’t mean we have to take this lying down (unless we want to of course, and that’s fine too), we are free to have men, and other women, use our bodies in ways that satisfy us.
I confess that I have a high sexual appetite, (fortunately Master C’s is more than equal to the task of satisfying it) but even though Master C permits and ultimately corrects my promiscuity, it doesn’t mean that I leap into bed, or on to the back seat of a car, or behind some bushes or allow myself to be bent over the kitchen table for just anyone. I can still be choosy and I look after my sexual health but, at the same time I also enjoy the variety (both in terms of situations and partners) and if anyone thinks that what I do is wrong then, well, they are entitled to their opinion but, quite unashamedly, I’m never going to agree with them. Nor for that matter does Master C, who know all about my less than pristine sexual past, and who guides and corrects me in when my slutty nature gets the better of me.
So where does this tie in with the prompt? Well, it doesn’t really but it did get me thinking.
The first time someone called me a slut to my face was at university. I was aware, at school, of being considered to be “one of the sluts” because a) I wasn’t one of the “in crowd” and b) it was assumed (correctly) that I was sexually active; but no one actually ever called me a slut to my face. At university it was different. I had just broken up with a fairly serious boyfriend who turned out to be a cheating arsehole and I was getting over him by getting under as many guys as I felt was needed. It was one of these guys, whilst I was in the process of getting under, who called me a slut.
In fairness, I was, even for me, going through one of my more rampantly promiscuous phases. A night out just wasn’t a night out unless I had at least one cock in one or more of my holes. I had just intimated to the guy in question that I wouldn’t be averse to him fucking me in the arse, and that was what prompted him to call me a “nasty little slut”. It wasn’t the number of partners; he didn’t know how many I’d had, it was the fact that I was prepared to let him do something “taboo”. Had he known how many guys I’d actually fucked between discovering my ex was a cheating bastard and having this guy call me a slut, I suspect he’d have done a runner, but that’s irrelevant. The fact was, he called me a slut and I actually identified with the term. He hadn’t meant it in a denigrating way, at least not fully; it had an element of appreciativeness about it, but it was still a term I’d never had anyone call me before.
The more I thought about it, the more I came to recognise the accuracy of the appellation; I was, after all, undoubtedly promiscuous, I gave my favours to both men and women, I was happy to be fucked in any hole, I loved being taken by more than one partner simultaneously, I was a slut and, as it turned out, quite unashamedly so.
It’s a term that I have continued, and indeed, still do continue to identify with. I am Mòrag, and I am a slut, and I still feel no shame in being one.
So yes, I am happy to call myself a slut; and specifically Master C‘s slut, as I have already affirmed, but still a slut. I am a slut who enjoys sex and enjoys satisfying my desires and appetites and I am always open to discovering new experiences. I also enjoy submitting to Master C and accepting the guidance and instruction he gives me, while accepting the punishment he applies as a consequence of the freedoms he allows me.
I’m not sure if all of this makes me a ‘dictionary definition’ slut or a ‘my definition’ slut or just someone who gets a lot of enjoyment out of sex in all its myriad of pleasurable forms and, to be perfectly honest, it’s not something I’m going to lose any sleep pondering over (although I do miss out on a fair bit of sleep participating).