It’s puzzling that I had never previously understood the height, the breadth, the sheer scope of my lover B’s sexual and emotional ambitions. I have always known that she wanted to please me - and believe me, there is no limit to how pleasing she wants to be. And I’ve always known she wanted to be the best – the best I’ve ever had and the best I will ever have. And yet, I hadn’t previously understood that she wanted to actually be the sexiest bitch in the whole wide world. Phew! Well, you wouldn’t know that, would you? - not if someone is, to all intents and purposes, a model mother, partner, colleague, friend, sister, daughter, and so on – you wouldn’t know that, inside of someone’s head, they’re at the Chateau de Roissy, learning total submission to men. Yes, it’s true that, together with these more public roles, she’s always been an endearing and sexy mistress to me on the sly. And okay, she’s always liked me to show who’s boss, in a playful sort of way, right from the start of our relationship. It’s quite a recent change to call me ‘Sir’ - though only in private, and only when very very excited. This, though, is qualitatively different – this is about performance, this is about a quest for personal fulfilment, this is about wanting the power and the glory – this is a woman who wants to become the consummate slut. I wonder if even she had realised how ambitious she was, previously:
So, yes, I'm doing everything I do to please you. But, yes, I admit, within that remit, what I will always want to do is to tease, please, win over and make my own, every man or woman we play with. You ask whether it’s my overwhelming desire, my instinctive reflex - with every single man I encounter sexually - to offer them whatever they want? Whatever they would most like to have? Whatever they would most like to do with me? Whatever is most exciting to them? Yes. Yes, that sounds like a reasonable view to me. I know it's deeply slutty but I can't help it, Baby.
You’re absolutely right - what motivates ME is not extra cock or pussy - it's being worked hard at being pleasing. Pleasing you. And pleasing someone in front of you - showing him (and you) that I'm (trying to be) the most pleasing woman in the universe. Sorry...?
Do I really want to be the ultimate, the consummate slut? Well, yes, I suppose I do…..
You’re right – though I hadn’t realised it before. No, it is not enough for me to act the slut. I want to be seen by you too. OK, that's true. Yes, I want you to watch me being a slut - for you! Of COURSE I want you to see I am the best with anyone.
See what I mean? As a result of this discovery, I have had to step up my input in a big way; because I feel she wants me to assist her with this very ambitious project.
It’s a dirty job, but hey, someone has to etcetera, so I do what I can to help. This week, we concentrated on oral skills. Not so much how to suck cock, or have your pussy licked; because she’s pretty damned hot in these departments already. More a question of how to be the best, how to get it right with a new playmate, how to do these things in a situation with more than one sexual partner; that sort of thing. Most important of all (and definitely most important to her), is the question of how to look good in front of someone else - whether your lover, a third party, or that implied other which every mirror represents – and to look good as a sexual object, to make yourself into an erotic spectacle, while receiving or giving oral.
So first, she practised asking – very sweetly – if she could please suck my cock? Not would I like my cock sucked; but rather, would I allow her to do so, would I please permit it, because she would like to – and, in the case of another man, because she would like to do so in front of me, for me. And would I please tell her how I would like it sucked? Could she lick it first? – because she would like that. And please, please could I spunk on her face or her tits when she makes me come – because she wants that, she wants to see and feel and taste the spunk - and she wants her lover to see that, to see her enjoying it.
Apart from anything else, such pleas and prompts should ensure wood on another male – no one wants to try to suck a cock as spectacle, if that cock is anything but rock hard. But what if her sex partner still wasn’t rigid enough? I pushed her. Time to practice more moves…. I get her to pull down the bra part of the ludicrously filthy outfit she’s wearing and run her nipples up my abdomen and chest, while stroking my cock through my jeans. Ok! She turns, bends forwards from the waist, pushing her arse back into my groin, and grinds it round and round. Good move, better. She turns and rolls up my tee-shirt up, licks my abdomen, bites my nipples gently. And when her mouth reaches my neck, she asks if she could now please unfasten my jeans. Very good! Lessons are easy when you’ve got a star pupil. I let her. Her mouth travels down again, she gets onto her knees, and with flawless expertise, unbuckles and undoes the jeans. She cradles my cock in her cleavage – a nice touch – lubes it up, and sets to work with her tongue.
There’s just so much work to do! There always is – that must be why it’s called a blow job – but especially so when you need it to be as dirty as possible and as visually affecting as possible. She licks my balls, tongues and kisses and bites my groin and perineum and lower abdomen, and it feels fantastic. I get her to kneel prettily – arse out, back concave, tits out, head back to take in the full length of my cock. She knows to wrap a hand around the base; holding it hard and steady, but also ensuring that when her mouth is covering the top half, it feels completely enclosed. But I have to point out that she mustn’t get too close; so that a viewer can watch as much of the shaft as possible slowly disappearing into her mouth and sliding out again.
And then there’s looking……. There’s a scene in Paltrow senior’s film Duets, where Maria Bello’s star-struck waitress, who’ll do anything to reach the karaoke finals she’s sure will break her into the big-time, makes a car paint-shop proprietor an offer he can’t refuse, in a bid to disguise the stolen car in which she’s travelling. When he quotes her the price for the respray, she doesn’t haggle or agonise, or even miss a beat; promptly responding, with a big open smile, “I’m afraid we don’t have that sort of money at this time - but I’d personally consider it an honour and a privilege to suck your cock for you, Sir.” (Or words to that effect – Drew’s Scriptorama let me down on this occasion). Cut to the car emerging from the paint shop, in its new hot pink livery. What I’ve been teaching B to do this week – strictly at her instigation and request, I emphasise – is to look at the recipient of her attentions, as if it is an honour and a privilege to suck their cock (Sir).
And that’s only the start of the additional skills she’s going to have to hone, if she really means it about being the best, about the whole super-slut business. She also has to try to look at me while giving or receiving oral to or from other parties, for example – no easy requirement, though mirrors help. She has to meet my gaze - partly to seek and confirm my continued approval, and partly to receive directions. Most importantly, she needs to do this because I am orchestrating her pleasure – the immense sexual excitement she experiences in and from such acts is also a spectacle enacted at my behest and for my enjoyment.
Luckily – though luck, of course, has nothing to do with it – the room we’re currently using has four giant, eight foot by four foot mirrors in each corner, slanting towards the floorspace and bed in the centre. So everything she does is a spectacle, everything is watched, everything is approved.
Thank you for all the mirrors. I can't tell you what a difference that makes. It works for me (like many women) in a number of ways. But mainly:
a) I want to look good. If I can check that I do then that's one less worry plus one massive confidence boost/turn-on both at the same time. Because all women learn to see themselves in the mirror in two ways: 1. The critical appraisal required for grooming and reality checks. 2. The generous approval of an interested third party.
b) I am able to actually see myself as just a woman. Just a woman interested in pleasure. Just a woman who wants to pleasure herself and please others, to take and give pleasure to her lover. By being conscious of myself in this way, I actually lose my self-consciousness - if you see what I mean...
Even so, it doesn’t always work out:
But I was disappointed that I couldn't see anything when I was sitting on your face...
Although it may seem as though all this mirror business objectifies B, trapping her as mere sexual object before an all-seeing male gaze, I’m not sure this is right. You might equally say that what B gets from the mirrors, is the vision of her own enjoyment; an entirely female pleasure, liberated from the phallic order, from the Other of law and social convention. What the mirrors are obliged to witness is her multiple transgression of such conventions: perverse acts, with someone else's partner, in front of her lover, or with two sexual partners at once. While she enjoys performing my uncompromising demands, the implied other in the mirror (daddy, husband, society) is forced to be passive and complicit; imagined by her to approve her self-indulgently bad behaviour.
For the sake of that passive third party, she has to take oral, as well as give it, in a manner which is visually pleasing and spectacular. I mean, as well as exciting for her, of course; but then, what has gone before should have made it clear that if she feels she looks good doing it, it will be exciting for her. This week I concentrated on 69 variations: partly because straddling a man’s face or chest; or taking up a position on all fours above him, is going to look and feel hotter for her, than being supine with someone’s head buried between her thighs; partly because they’re more active positions, giving her control of her pleasure. Of course she came a few times during these exercises – learning needs to be stimulating and fun – but I also think she came to see the other’s mouth, not as something to be accepted and so vulnerable to their skills or lack of them:
I never cared for pussy-licking before you. It was too difficult for anyone to get right, and they all made the same mistakes, and all went on, so terribly earnestly, for so long it was both mind and clit-numbing...
but rather as something she could actively use, like a cock, to obtain her own pleasure:
I will be forever grateful that you have allowed me to enjoy this, to relish it. Once upon a time, I never even thought any man could bring me to orgasm, licking and sucking me. I have had to accept how hot it is to have a proficient pussy-licker (aka you) getting into their stride and taking me along for the ride. And now you’ve also shown me just how I want it done for me, how to get it done for me, how to take it. And I want you to show me how to demand it – though of course I want you to use everything you know to withhold and tease me as well as pleasure me.
I know, I know – some readers may be thinking all this is a bit odd – it’s all gone rather too BDSM for your taste. But you couldn’t be more wrong about that. B loves vanilla sex – hot and sweet and one-on-one. I don’t have to make any show of forcing her to do anything; I only need to ask. And if I get it wrong, she's a tergament. She has no desire whatsoever to be part of any scene – fetish, or otherwise – or have anything which might be referred to as a ‘lifestyle’ (other than the sort on offer in Heal’s catalogues). She’s not going to be told what to do at home, like these domestic discipline people. There’s no dom/sub role-play, we’re not going to any specialist clubs. She has no interest in piercings or tattoos, let alone in any of the accoutrements and accessories of BDSM practices. She ddoesn’t call me ‘Master’ or consider herself my property, or any such nonsense. She wants to behave like any ordinary, assertive, confident, middle-class, professional woman who happens to have a lover. As her lover, I can be as firm and demanding as I like; but more than anything, she just wants to be loved, romantically; to be my baby, my darling, like any other girl. If it was otherwise, I wouldn’t have only discovered so recently that she wants to be the hottest slut in Christendom, now would I? No, B’s submissiveness is merely part of her take on feminity; a disposition as natural to her as breathing; but really only evident in her most intimate relations with men.
Perhaps the feistier females among you may have been bristling at the idea that she needs me to orchestrate her pleasure. Why should she? Dunno – but back off; because it’s what she wants. I suppose the answer is that because of her version of femininity, her need and her desiring are infinite. She wants me as the male both to try – and try very hard – to meet that need, limitless as it is. But also, as if she herself recognises that this is impossible, that it simply cannot ever be satisfied – she wants the male in me, at the same time, to set boundaries, to limit and constrain her desire. And not for some sadistic thrill on my side, but from an astute innate awareness, on hers, that limitless need and desire are potentially annihilating. (In The Story of O, O’s pursuit of fulfilment through her sexuality is a path leading to the obliteration of her will, individuality and personality - as Sontag points out, ‘O’ stands both for her sex and for absolute zero, nothing *). B has always sensed the risks of surrendering her will to her desire:
If we were younger/ had no other commitments I could be dangerously submissive to you. So it's always been hard for me when you have questioned me about sex with other people - because I think, how does he not know that he's the boss and I don't want any say in this.
And yes – there it is, so perfectly set out in her second sentence – unlimited desire (she will have sex as and how, and with whosoever, I see fit), but within boundaries set by me (I’m the boss, she has no say in this). Both trying to meet or indulge B’s desire and setting boundaries for it are intensely pleasurable to her. Perhaps they’re inseparably bound-up for her now – so that it isn’t even necessary to accede to her desire – merely constraining it at one and the same time, pleasurably evokes it in her, indulges it and sets a limit within which it can be enjoyed without becoming too overwhelming:
Please tether me as soon as you possibly can. I feel desperate. And I love it.
In the same way, even being denied or unsatisfied is satisfyingly pleasurable:
I love the idea of being fucked and deposited at home in a state of dishevelled excitement though I agree, hard to carry out without a) turning him on - eeeeek. Or b) turning me in. I get a similar thrill - though you don't understand it - from being denied satisfaction, and sent home in a state of silent, frenzied excitement.
In psychoanalytic terms, this is her jouissance, is it not? – that is, the enjoyment of her symptom: an enjoyment beyond mere enjoyment; intensely pleasurable to the point of pain. (**) Clever and resourceful girl that she is, she has found a way (and a helpmate in me), to enact her most powerful drives and compulsions – to her intense satisfaction – yet all within the safety of an entirely hidden relationship.
(*) Sontag, Susan. The Pornographic Imagination, in Styles of Radical Will, Secker, Ldn, 1969.
