Tawdry Tuesday.

This is something I used to do on my old blog, Tawdry Tuesday. So since I have this new blog, this new place, I wanted to bring back some of the old rituals. And this is one I enjoyed. I started this on Tuesdays on those cold winter months, and they are coming again. So why not have someplace to tell stories of my past on those cold winter nights, or days, when I have nothing else to do, and bring some of my past inside with me. Those first moments of things explored, things that are fun and exciting, and hope for more to come, always hoping for more to come!

This one is about the Slut-O-Meter. How to gauge a slut in one easy lesson. Yea right, I wasn't easy but I was a slut, well according to the man I was with at the time. This was before I became accepting in my vocabulary of being a slut. Even the word slut bugged me, not because I was a prude or anything, far from that. But being a slut was something that I thought meant sleeping around with several men at once. *laughs* Like that matters now eh. Okay, back to my story.


The man I will call simply, "Sir", took me to a club for a private party. Way back in my beginnings. Before I had even had a chance to see much of that depraved world of the lifestyle. Not really a newbie, but very inexperienced. Quaintly so. We had argued, well maybe debated would be a better term, nahhh, argued about what constitutes a slut, I said, sleeping around, he said wait and see. I begged him to please tell me and give me some idea of what being a slut was. I had the right to know! Or so I thought.

He told me he would put me on his Slut-O-Meter and we could find out. Fine I snapped! I was game, always up for a challenge. We walked into the party, he gracefully took my coat, and then had the audacity to laugh at my outfit. I had on black leather pants and a white lacy shirt with jump boots. I was going to party! And then he had the nerve to tell me that I looked like a bitch ready to do battle. I batted my eyelashes at him, and said, "I am aren't I, Sir." You could hear the sarcastic tone dripping from within.

He laughed again as he grasped my wrist, a little too hard for my liking but something was making me feel that moistness down deep inside. I then noticed that his outfit almost matched mine. Save for the white lacy blouse, his was replaced with a pressed white dress shirt. The creases sharp and on edge. For a moment in time suspended in eye to eye contact, my mind went to equals, equal rights. Before I could utter protest he was undoing my leather pants, unlacing my leather boots, and shoving me down to a chair. I squealed in protest only half-felt as he undressed me like a present on Christmas morn. Right down to my lace pink panties. (yes, I still wear panties, even from that lesson long ago!)

There I sat boldly staring at him from my seat below, naked other than that scrap of pink wrapped around my waist. I defiantly crossed my legs, shielding all my glory and wetness from his view. With a savage boot they were pushed open, I hissed, he snarled, the fight was on. I went up with a hand of long tapered nails, painted in such a brilliant red, I was going to rake them across his face, but his vice like grip held tight around my wrist. I barked that he was hurting me, he replied, "Like I care slut."

I was livid, furious and wanted revenge. I tried to snake a leg in between his and found that I was held fast. Pinned in that chair like a wild beast! I smirked, thinking to throw him off with my smile of disdain. He reached his hand down to snatch a fistful of soaked panties and silken cunt. A menacing laugh came from the bellows of his mirth. And all that came out was his remembered words.......



"What a slut."

More laughter as I was ready to spit in his eye, and then he walked away, laughing, as I sat there in the chair with my mouth wide open, aghast.

I flung from the chair to go after him and beg.......I wanted more!!!

Life goes on...........