Slut


Slut

I love a slut. I do not know if every woman has an inner slut, but I love the ones who do. It’s an interesting word, with a lot of connotations. Probably everyone has a slightly different idea of what they mean by it. For me it’s not a derogatory word in the least. On the contrary, it’s a terms of approval. A slut is a woman who has the courage of her desires, who is not ashamed to show what she likes, who is not shy of her lover seeing her enjoy her sexuality. But it’s more than that. For me, a slut is a woman who is prepared to kick over the traces, who is not confined by conventional notions of how a woman should behave. Despite the so-called sexual revolution, there are still quite rigid social limits placed on what women ought and ought not to do sexually. A slut is a woman who doesn’t care about these limits, imposed by censorious busybodies, mostly men, of course.

Sluts have always been with us, thank goodness. My mother, an eminently respectable woman, indeed rather too much so, used to have a very fixed idea of how you could recognise a slut or, as she put it, a woman who ‘is no better than she ought to be’ (a curious phrase that doesn’t make much sense when you analyse it, though I knew exactly what she meant). In those days a slut was a woman who wore red nail polish. Yet, curiously, it was fine to wear red lipstick, which my mother has done every day of her life. Sluts also wore high-heels with trousers (or ‘slacks’ as my mother called them). They smoked in public and they drank gin. No doubt she also had notions of what things they might do in the bedroom, but she was much too reserved to tell me what they were. I’m so glad I eventually found out what a slut will do in the bedroom. (If she’s a real slut, there’s not much she won’t do.)

We have a lot of words for women who don’t come up to the high moral standards expected of them. Slut is only one, and it’s the only one, I think, which has been redeemed and put to more positive use. If you call a girl a whore or a scank there’s no way it can be a term of approval, still less one of affection. Whereas if I call Angel my little slut, she basks in certain knowledge of my admiration. And the word lends itself to being embroidered with all kinds of prefixes: pain-slut, cum-slut, ass-slut. Each one a label to be worn as a badge of honor.

I don’t think there can be a male equivalent for a slut, because society doesn’t impose similar restraints on men. They can do as they please, and if they like something a little kinky in bed, then they are just being a man. There’s no implication that in any sense they compromise themselves, whatever they do.

I love my slut. With my help she blossomed. I encouraged her to indulge herself to the full, to be everything that she was. But now she can’t be a slut any more. She’s got to be what her “man” wants her to be, respectable, modest, prim and proper. He can look at sluts on the internet, apparently (boys will be boys), but he can’t have his woman behaving like that. Oh, no. Am I bitter? A little bit, it seems.

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One Response to Slut

  1. toplessprincess says:

    very well said!

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