Tag Archives: rape

Slut? A Poem

30 Aug


Cheap and dirty slut.

When did she cross the line?  When her father raped her, that first time when she was 10?  The night she wore the pajamas that were too small, didn’t she know they’d tempt him beyond what a Christian man could take?


Was it when Johnny swore he loved her, when she did it coz he asked so nicely, so sweet, his hands were gentle, his breath so fresh, not like her father, whiskey laden, reeking of smoke and sweat and then

after he said he’d never tell, but then ~~ behind the bleachers ~

the girls sneering, 

and the boys lined up chanting, Suck it suck it suck it slut

so she did, cause what was she s’posed to do?  She did and did and did and

they left her there, left alone after all


And so sometimes she holds tight, untouched, keeping her heart tucked away in a drawer, next to her passion, the purple dildo that only she knows about.

But then, ready to explode, needing the touch just to know she lives,

fucking half a dozen men in a week or two,

                     discarding them as quickly as they cum ~

~pun intended.


Didn’t she know she was s’posed to save it for him?  



This is not my story, although it could have been; it’s just a matter of fate that it wasn’t.  i don’t know where it came from, it appeared in my mind and slid onto the page in response to some discussion on another blog about the word slut, and who might or might not be one.

In my best fantasies, in the BDSM world, we use the word with love and affection, trying to take the sting and the shame out of it.  Slut shaming is practically a national pastime… and i’m so against it.

In my mind, either we are all sluts, or none of us are.  And i could talk more about that, cause you know i’ve got more to say on the subject, but not today.

Gotta be at work at 7 for real… 

i Have to Say

17 Aug

First of all, i’m exhausted, and i need to be at work early.  This is the week i’m on call for my second job, and i’ve gotten home late both nights this week.  While that’s a benefit for my bank account, it’s to the detriment of my sleep account.

So now my brain is all numb and dull, my eyes feel gritty, and my body kind of achy, as i drink my first cup of morning tea.  Not complaining, just saying.

i was haunted off and on yesterday too by my beloved subsister, ‘Nilla’s blog post.  It was one of her darker fantasies and she is the Queen of Darkness, in my book anyhow.   Read it here if you haven’t already.

Understand, i am not saying anything negative about ‘Nilla, who i love dearly, or her fantasies, which i read avidly.  They turn me on even when i don’t “like” them.  

And this particular one hit a painful note with me that i couldn’t quite shake yesterday.

i’ve worked with clients who’ve experienced similar situations – more than one woman who, as a teenager, had a friend who had a brother they kind of liked.  Who went to the friend’s house hoping for attention, affirmation, and maybe even sex from the brother, and ended up raped by brother and his friends. 

My clients ~ there have been two of them ~ blamed themselves because they liked the brother, because they flirted, because they drew attention to themselves.

So ‘Nilla’s post hit a memory of that pain.

And then yesterday at work, i had some conversation with other staff about rape, and whose fault it is.  My frustration at having to have the conversation with people who work with victims left me gritting my teeth and trying to remember to breathe.

So i need to say this.  It’s not a criticism of  ‘Nilla’s dark and dirty fantasies ~ fantasies are a free-for-all.  But i need to say it.

People get raped because they cross paths with a rapist at a time when they are unprotected and vulnerable in some way.  They may be alone, they may be drunk, they may be asleep.   At a party, in a bar, in their own home.  They may be a child, a teenager, an adult, or an old person.  In the “wrong” neighborhood, wearing the “wrong” clothes, or tied up on the bed waiting for friend’s brother to come home.  Doesn’t matter.

Rape is always the fault of the rapist.  

The rapist always has the choice to turn away.  

The rapist will tell you “She/he asked for it.”  They’ll say, “I thought she/he wanted it.”  They say that because they don’t want to take responsibility for their own actions.  They always have the option of asking, “Do you want this?  Is this ok?”

When it’s a child, even if the child literally asks for it, it is the responsiblity of the adult to say “no.”  If a child asked you to give them crack cocaine, most of us would say ‘No.”  If they asked us to beat them in the head with a two-by-four, we would probably say, “Um, no, i don’t think so.”

And if we did say “yes,” and beat them in the head with the two-by-four, “She asked me to,” would probably not be considered a good defense.

i like to think that people already know all that, and probably you do, probably it’s just some of the staff i work with who aren’t quite clear on it.  And my clients, who generally blame themselves.

One more thing – about arousal.  i often read blogs where the idea that “i realized i did like this {whatever the Dom was doing} because i was wet,” comes up.  

Research on arousal, with electrodes attached to bodies, measuring physical signs of arousal, shows that men are fairly picky about what turns them on.  And what they say they like generally matches what actually makes them hard.

So if a man says he likes watching women have sex, but two men wouldn’t turn him on, he’s probably right.  Hooked up to electrodes, watching two women on a video will probably make him hard, a video of two men won’t.  Or vice versa, depending on orientation.


Ask a woman if watching two dogs have sex turns her on, and she’s likely to say no.  Hook her up to electrodes, have her watch the dog video, and she’s likely to get wet.  She’s still gonna tell you the dogs don’t turn her on, but she’s likely to be wet.

Apparently, we get wet at the idea of anything remotely sexual.  

We think that’s a built-in protection for our bodies ~ the wetness protects against tissue damage in case of rape, to some extent.  Without the mental element of being turned on, it really doesn’t mean anything.

And that’s not to say it always works like that either – clearly, there are times with sex looming that we’re not wet, just as there are times that men are mentally aroused and not hard.  {At least i guess…}

Along those same lines, we orgasm because of physical reactions.  So you can have an orgasm and, unless you gave consent, it was still rape.  Your body just doesn’t always know the difference.

i kind of love the idea of us being ready for sex at the drop of a hat.  No wonder society is forever trying to control our sexuality!  We’re quite the wanton creatures.  We act like men are all about sex, when really, maybe it’s us.  {smiling}

i feel batter for having said all this, thank you very much.  Off for another exciting day now, hoping it ends a little bit earlier than the last two.

And yes, i promise, The Major will be back tomorrow.