Embracing His Inner Hyde Part Three

When I asked him, it wasn't a rhetorical question. I was genuinely curious. 

"Where'd you learn this stuff?"  I struggled to elaborate.  "The words you say to make me ***." 

There's an art to it, you know.  I'm pretty sure there's not a Dom Finishing School, but you never know.  I've learnt there are a lot of classes out there for things like prostate massage and ******* sex, so perhaps there's a course for talking dirty with confidence.

The confidence is essential; you've got to own the statements.  Make those words your *****, and in so doing, make me your *****.  At least, that's how it works with me and my lover.  I love it when he talks dirty to me.  It's like there's a voice-activated remote control **** stimulator in play between his mouth and my ****. 

We are not respectable people, either of us.  Not when we play, anyway.  We are naughty. 




He laughed at me.  He often does.  Especially when I'm coming down from an ****** and I talk nonsense.  But this wasn't nonsense.  My brain was scattered and my voice was breathy from all the hard breathing I'd been doing as he phone ****** me, but I knew my question would yield some insights into the man. 

He spoke of the Jekyll/Hyde nature of the beast in him.  "No one in my day to day life would believe or even suspect I say these things," he told me.  "Coworkers would deny I could possibly talk that way, think that way."

I thought of a production I saw years ago, an adaptation of Stevenson's famed novella by a guy named David Edgar.  The actor who portrayed the doc with a dark side was in repertory at the time, simultaneously doing Richard III.  Well, not simultaneously, exactly, but over the same period of months.  He was brilliant at portraying these complex characters.  The shows left me unsettled and tremendously turned on.  The idea of someone being respected as a civilized man, cultured and restrained, who had wild cravings and passions and desires, who secretly expressed them in a coarse rough manner...it was deliciously shocking. 

"I'm just dirty," my lover said when I asked where he learned the ability to express himself.  "I love to say these things."  He laughed.  It was the carefree laugh of a teenaged boy joking around with his friends, full of mischief and delight in a world full of pretty girls with big breasts and short skirts and soft lips painted with red lipstick.  **** and boobs and jugs and ***** and ***** and the like.  Places for him to sheath his ****.  He could presumably engage in that sort of dirty talk with his pals when they were alone.  He was a part-time cowboy in his youth, working at a ranch during the summer, and cows and horses do not mind if young men use such language. 

But he is far from that world now, a grown man with many responsibilities, and expectations of those in his life do not permit that sort of verbiage.  So I shouldn't have been surprised at his next statement.  Yet I was.

"It's very comforting to use those words."  He didn't linger on the statement, nor elaborate.  He continued, "There's a shock factor.  It's very hot."  I laughed and agreed.

But his word, comforting, stuck with me.  It occurs to me that Doms are just as vulnerable as subs.  That they need touchstones, that they have triggers, that some of the behaviours we engage in are as important to their wellbeing as they are to ours.  Not that I'm a pure sub, mind you.  I'm a switch, which means that I have the need to say dirty things as well as hear them.  But I lean sub, when all is said and done.  So it's tougher for me to get the words out.  I stumble.  And I sometimes go quiet.  But I breathe really heavily.  Then I screw up my courage and spit out a few dirty things and I feel good and proud of myself for being true to my desires. 

He's right; it is comforting.
milkynips milkynips
46-50, F
Jan 9, 2013