Prude?

How can I like a word I once hated?  A word I would have fought against being called once.  How can I now treasure it? 

Along this journey I have found myself having to confront several things that make me uncomfortable.  Although I was regarded in a delicate light as I mentioned before, I wouldn’t have labeled myself a prude.  I was open to new ideas.  Not only was my behavior not prudish, my thinking wasn’t prudish or so I thought until I was put to the test.  I believed in keeping an open mind and then he said certain words to me.  Words like pet, collar, leash, slut, fuck and my mind scrambled to keep up because it wanted to put the brakes on.  Me a pet?  Me in a collar?  Me a slut?  Excuse me?  Just who do you think you are talking to...Sir? 

Slut.  I’ll focus solely on the part of my journey with that little four letter word and my confrontation with it.  You see I am an intelligent woman. I am not a slut.  I do not sleep around.  I take the decision to go to bed with a man very seriously.  That was the soundtrack playing in my head as Sir called me slut and it was on constant repeat.  How dare he label me otherwise!  I could see my inner feminist just shaking her head at him.  Oh she wanted a piece of him for calling me that.  What she wouldn’t have done to just have five minutes alone with him until the moment he added one little magical word to the mix…my.  My slut.  Well if that doesn’t just change the whole dynamic.  Not just any slut but his slut.  His personal slut willing to do anything for him whenever and where ever he desires it.  It is hard not to go along with that.  Turns out I am a slut and it turns out I am proud of it too.  Now if you call me a slut I’ll wear it like a badge of honor.  Yes, for the right man I am absolutely a slut.  I am willing to do anything for him whenever and where ever he desires it. 

Answers Come

I look at this and I feel it.  I feel the cold floor underneath my heated skin as I wait.  I wait for you to instruct me to uncross my legs.  You and I both know you want to see all.  You want the view of all that is kept from you and I want your gaze upon me.  I feel your hands as they tug at the laces telling me in that voice to again reveal myself to your gaze.  You want nothing blocking me from your view.  Your view of what belongs to you and I need to give it to you.  All of it.  Each part of me I need to give to you.  Take it. Take me.  Allow me to give it.

Yes, as I look upon this photo I know clearly some of the answers to my earlier questions.  I know what I need.  I know what I have to have.  What exactly I cannot live without.  Seems this little journey maybe a one way street with not chance of return to that naive little corner where I once stood wondering quietly with all my what ifs and buts.

Sometimes

Sometimes we are lucky enough to know that our lives have been changed, to discard the old, embrace the new, and turn headlong down an immutable course. 

Jacques Cousteau

Reading that brought so many questions to my mind...

Am I lucky enough to see that my life has been changed?  Discovering and admitting that I am submissive has changed me.  I have to ask do I feel lucky in that change and increased knowledge of myself? 

Am I willing to discard the old?  Change?  Oh, how we humans don't like that at all.  Change can be so very scary and if I feel lucky with this change in my life does that mean I must welcome it and also welcome the discarding of the old?

Then I must also admit to myself if I keep stepping in the directions of it, of D/s, then there really is no going back.  It is an immutable course.  After tasting the delights to be had at the hand of a Dom could I really return to the vanilla world?  Would I really want to return to a world that offered only one flavor?

I haven't all the answers at this point.  Actually I don't know that I have any of them.  I am willing to work through the clutter in my head to find them though.