Do You Want Me To Call You A Whore?

Posted by admin on December 19th, 2007 filed in Bondage, Kinky Thinky, Sexy Writing

Originally posted on my sex blog, Kink For Yourself.

We humans are an interesting breed. We have so many facets to our personality, to our being, that we’re more like a confederacy, or a coalition government, than a single consciousness. If the human psyche were a computer operating system, it would be Windows. For the purposes of this screed we’ll say Windows XP, because I’m familiar with it much more than Vista. Ok.
Here’s the deal. Windows XP, and the releases the precede it, like Windows Me, 2000, 98, 95, 3.1, etc) are built upon the framework of the older versions. I can dig into the system files of my XP, and find old programs that go back 15 years or more. They’re still there. They’re just dormant. Just like old impulses in our psyche. We’re not too far away from the days when wolves were, literally, at our door, and people did get eaten by bears.
I bring this up because nowhere do I see this stratification of personae more clearly than during sex.
My wife and I have great sex. We have amazing sex. Seven years together, and we have more, and better, sex than when we met. We’re adventurers, she and I. There has always been a subtle power play dynamic with us (usually in the form of Daddy and his girl) but lately we’ve moved into straight up D/s play. Although my adoration for my wife sometimes echoes of John and Yoko, in the bedroom I am dominant. Although my wife describes herself as bossy and always right, in the bedroom (with me) she is submissive. Now, we have tried swtiching it around, and although it was hot, it only reinforced the reality that I am primarily a Dom (within this dynamic). So, how does one go from rubbing her furrowed brow and fetching her drinks, to tying her up in the manner of Japanese rope bondage, and dripping hot wax on her tits, while making her tell me what a whore she is?
Simple.
Love, trust, and a sense of adventure. Contrary to the myth, bondage, BDSM, D/s, all that noise is play. Who doesn’t like having their hair pulled during sex? Who doesn’t like a slap on the ass, or simply being taken? That’s all leftover stuff from our time as simpler mammals. Ever seen cats fuck? With the neck biting? I think it’s the same little genetic code, except it can be triggered with hair pulling (or erotic choking… a hand on the throat… sexy), or a slap on the ass.
We all have untold vistas and horizons within us, ripe for exploration. I am truly blessed in that I am married to my (although I shudder at the word, it fits) soulmate. Not only is she my wife, she’s my best friend (aawwwwww) so we have an intimacy, and a shared naughtiness that allows us to be pretty open about stuff that is stupid outside of moment.

I called my wife a whore.

More specifically, I asked her if she was a whore. We were fucking, hard, and intensely, and she was riding that plateau… waiting for that one thing to take her over the edge. I took one of her perfect nipples in my fingers, and pinched/pulled. Excellent. She loves that (me too. I’m all about nipples), but this time, I also leaned into her face and asked, “Are you a whore?”

There was a sharp intake of breath, and her pussy clenched spasmodically, but she didn’t answer. I pulled her hair hard, exposing the white flesh of her neck, which I licked and bit (while fucking, mind you.)
“Answer me.”

Her breath was hitched and ragged. “I can’t.”

A little slap on the cheek. My voice is stern now. “Are. (slap) you. (slap) a. (slap) whore? (slap)”

“Yes, Daddy. I’m a whore.” The word whore shuddered out of her like an excorcised demon, and her pussy was literally dripping around my cock.

“Tell me.” I said, my hand stroking her tits

“I’m a whore. I’m a slut. I’m a cum slut. I’m a fuck slut. I’m an anal slut.” The words poured out of her now. I fucked her hard and rough for seemed like hours but couldn’t have been more than a minute.

“You’re my slut.”

“Yes, Daddy. Only your girl…. only your whore.”

“Now, come!” and did she ever. I did too. I pulled out of her heaving, sobbing, cumming body, and came in her yummy (newly submissive) mouth, all the while stroking her hair, and telling her what a good girl she was to tell daddy the truth.
I snuggled her close and kissed her to a sleep of perfect innocence.

So tell me, man or woman… are you a whore? What’s the naughty, irrational thing that makes you come? Does your partner(s) know?