Charlie and I met at a dance party, and later at her place our sex was loud, messy, sweaty and vigorous. I was full of need. At one point when I was splayed out over the bed begging for more, she grabbed my face, called me her “greedy whore,” and kissed me until my head swam with confusion to embarrassment to excitement.
Charlie called me greedy like it was a good thing. Even though I sometimes have a hard time seeing it that way in myself. When I think of greediness, I think about a pillow princess — someone who lays back, receives pleasure and doesn’t reciprocate or really do anything but show up. And so for a second, I felt unseen. Service is a key part of my submission; I want to give or do, even as my role appears less active. In submission I’m largely defined by what I do and how I do it, and sometimes that means doing very little — because I’m physically restrained, or following instructions, or just because what else is there to do but beg when you’re being fucked like never before? Being called greedy made me wonder, Should I be doing more?
But wasn’t I being greedy, wantonly begging like that? I was putting on a show. I needed to be fucked, and I was demanding it with my whole being. I was embarrassed because she was right — I was being a greedy whore — and I loved every moment of that greediness.
And because embarrassment is a kink I’m beginning to explore, I got unexpectedly turned on. The way Charlie acknowledged my greed implied that she was into it, and into me as well. It can be electric to let yourself be filled with pleasure and not care about anything else. I sometimes get nervous that I’m not enough as a bottom, or that my partner pleasuring me isn’t going to be enough for them. Doesn’t there need to be more? The idea that me enjoying myself doesn’t only turn me on, but turns on my partners, too, is hard to wrap my head around.
I think this comes from a lot of places. I’m still working through a lot of religious guilt that often manifests itself as me being as modest and accommodating and not asking for anything at all. The way I was socialized in my girlhood taught me that I should aim to be as small and as quiet as possible. Through kink, I’ve been able to challenge those feelings and start to see greed as something of which I needn’t be ashamed. I can relish feeling good at my partner’s hands — especially when that’s exactly what they want, too.
I’ve also come to realize that just because I’m not doing the fucking doesn’t mean that I’m not contributing to my partner’s sexual pleasure. My submission is active. Submitting is something I do, not something done to me. I ask for what I want, bring my partners their toys, and clean up after we’re done. I’m present, focused, embodied. It takes two (or more) to exchange power.
We all deserve pleasure. I can ask for what I want, my partners can ask for what they want when they want it, and we receive pleasure from each other’s pleasure. And I’m finally learning that that means they can receive pleasure from mine. The way I moan and writhe and grasp at the sheets and the air and her back is part of what makes sex enjoyable for my partner. I am enough.