I am trying to reclaim the word whore. It is my identity both for this blog and FetLife. Interestingly on Fet, I have had prospective male Dominants comment that ‘whore’ is too harsh and degrading and I shouldn’t use it. I don’t know why but these attitudes make me start to question my place in the BDSM world …

I have been messaging with The Fetishist for a while now. You may remember him as the married Foot Fetish guy I ditched from FetLife a while ago. Only he read the blog about him and came back. He won me over. How? He asked me the other day, I think mostly out of frustration that we still haven’t met and he still hasn’t got hold of that which he most wants …. my feet. If he can work out how he wooed me back, he probably thinks he can woo his way into my hold-ups …

How did he win me back? He saw me. He knows who I am in the world and he knows my secret side. One of a very elite few. He sees the natural whore and he wants her. It’s the only reason we keep communicating. Today, after I complained that I wasn’t using Fet anymore because of all the offers I get to ‘play’; he told me it is because of my user name. The word ‘whore’ means I am a ‘slut’ apparently. Open to anyone and anything.

Well that might be what they see but it is not what I am. I am not open to anyone and anything. I choose very, very carefully. You have to be something truly special to get close to me. To be allowed to see the natural whore. I had a date with Wolf last week and he came back to mine. I met him on a conventional dating app over a month ago (I mentioned him briefly in The Master, Wolf, & Whore) and he has no connection to the BDSM world. From our messages he had me excited and when he arrived and told me all about his family life, his hopes, his fears, his difficulties; my heart was powerless to resist. He ravished my body and enjoyed every orgasm. 8, 9, 10 I lost count and he came only once in the morning all over my naked body. He teased me mercilessly with his hands in my hair, stroking my shoulders, down my back, along the curves of my bum. “I’m barely touching you,” he would say as my breathless moans and desperate writhing betrayed the build of yet another orgasm. And I would see his pleasure at my response to him and the growl he made when I came with his fingers deep inside me earned him the name Wolf for sure.

“You don’t know how hot you are,” he said to me as he pulled my hair back from my face and looked deep into my eyes. My submissive eyes. My eyes that said I want you to do whatever you want to do to me because my body is here to serve you. I want to be a whore for you. And they all want that. Wolf, Master, Fetishist. And not just them. There are other men in my professional life who see a glimpse of the physical energy the natural whore inside me exudes, and want their slice of her too.

But what are they prepared to give in return? Too often it seems they want to use and drain my physical energy but keep the kindness of their heart from me. I am slipping away from Wolf as he finds it difficult to keep up the emotional connection necessary. This week I told The Master I couldn’t play his game of submissive as second fiddle to wife despite his attempts to woo me back (including a beautiful poem I will treasure forever). The Fetishist wants only my feet without emotional connection and I know already before meeting him that I will struggle to perform that role. They all want me to give them what other women will not or cannot. They all want the whore in me.

But what does the whore want? That, dear readers, is a question for another day …

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