Anyone can be a dumb, little bimbo, drunk on my cock. I want more. I want a clever little slut bitch. Tell me, baby, who’s my clever bitch?
I’m beginning to realize that I have two new kinks emerging as a submissive: name calling and praise.
I’m fascinated by how different kink partners can draw such different feelings and needs out of me. In past dynamics name calling has been a hard limit for me. Praise was nice but it embarrassed me and I sometimes avoided it and felt more affirmed and validated through punishment.
Sir doesn’t punish – there are consequences – but punishment isn’t his style, nor mine. I find it very stressful to navigate arbitrary guidelines and that stress tends to unravel me. His approach is much more positive and praise is a big part of that. I melt at “good girl” and his SFW pet names for me make me weak in the knees. It’s not just what he says, (baby, honey, sweet, love, etc.) it’s how he says it. He uses them warmly and lavishly, and he’s encouraging, positive, and possessive with his language, so multiple times a day I’m reminded whose beautiful girl I am. This is, of course, a wonderful way to be treated by your partner and we should all be so generous and mindful of how we speak to our lovers. It is also the perfect foil to being called his ‘ripe bitch in heat’ or his ‘cock hungry whore’ or his ‘’personal, cum-filled fuck holes’.
This balance of compliments and cruelty is completely woven into the fabric of our dynamic. Both leave his lips freely, confidently, and both ignite me, mind, body and soul.
The phrase ‘clever little bitch’ excites me. It is praise, condescension and name calling all in one, three buttons I didn’t know I wanted pushed but now that they have been, I can’t get enough. ‘Clever little bitch’ came about when I shared a particular accomplishment from university (to which he said, “You’ve never told me anything that made me want to fuck you more.”) and later he teased me with, “You’ve got to be an A+ clever little bitch if you want my D.”
The intimacy of such a rough statement is really driven home by the rhetorical question: Who’s my clever little bitch? When he first asked me, I stammered and stalled. He waited. When I found my words, my answer was incomplete, so he asked it again. He asked it over again until my answer was complete, clear and confident: I am, Sir. I am your clever little bitch.
I’m his clever little slut bitch and I couldn’t be more proud that I am also his Good Girl.