4.14.14
I learned something about
myself today. Want to hear about it? Of course you do. So I will sweetly oblige
and tell you all about it. Actually two things. If the first ones doesn’t take
a gazillion words to express, maybe I’ll mention the second one too.
So today was all about words... verbal expression... verbal submission.
I am a lover of words,
specifically written words. I fancy myself a pretty decent writer, even… when I
put my mind to it, anyway. I’ve been writing erotica since junior high and when
I discovered sexting, it was almost as good as sex to me. A strong man with a
well used vocabulary can make me very weak in the knees with nary a touch, only
his words. He can also make me squirmy, wet, floaty and if he’s really good and
the words arranged just so, he can make me cum without a touch.
I also love the spoken word.
I am a firm believer that the words you speak shape your world. So whether you
speak negative things or positive things you will have what you speak. The
problem with the spoken word is simply that once you have spoken it, you cannot
take it back into your mouth and correct the misspoken bits and pieces before they fall
upon the ears of those around you.
I can write some of the
steamiest, raunchiest, naughtiest erotica you might ever lay eyes upon, but ask
me to read that story to you or tell it to you, verbally … I will be at a total loss. My
cheeks will blush, my heart will race and my lips will seize up completely. I
will not be able to do it.
Ask me to talk dirty in
bed and I will probably act like I
didn’t hear you and moan a little louder to show you that we don’t need words…
we have noises… Ask me to tell you in explicit detail about a sexual fantasy of
mine and the blushing, the racing heart and the closed lips will happen.
Everything that slips out of my mouth will sound forced, unnatural, and not
sexy at all. That is, if, I can even get any words out.
Now, ask me to write you a
note or a story telling you explicitly what I want you to do to me and you will
get a story that will knock your socks off (usually anyway). But even asking me
to write or text what I would say to you in bed or any other such situation and
there will just be no words. My mind will suddenly be a blank slate.
I have wondered for years, why
this is. What is the mental block? I think today, I figured it out.
During the course of our conversation today, he texted, “If you explain sufficiently
and passionately enough that your entire purpose is to be my toy, I will reward
you with my cum in your mouth and on your face.”
*sigh* dang it… The words…
the words always kill me. I tried to brush it off, saying something about
speaking in sexual situations being my mental kryptonite. It piqued his
interest as that text was followed by…
“Picture yourself naked,
kneeling before me, my collar around your neck and your leash in my hand. Tell
me your deepest fantasy.”
There were no words. Wait,
let me rephrase that… there were lots of words. I have lots of fantasies. Some
pretty mild and others very dark. I share them in six word tweets and tumblr
posts. I don’t whisper them to a strong and powerful man while kneeling at his
feet. I couldn’t even type them out when my mind had me in that position. I was
blushing just thinking about it.
Even mentioning that good
girls who do what they’re told to do get rewarded, I still couldn’t put the words together. So he gave
me a little task to complete in solitude of my office. I was to imagine being on my
knees before him as described earlier and simply say, out loud, “May I please
suck your cock, Sir.” That was it… seven little words. It took me several
minutes to get the words out of my mouth and even then, they came out barely a
whisper and I could only do it with my eyes closed. My cheeks were so hot,
blushing like crazy. But… I was rewarded with the praise I’ve come to
love. And the conversation continued.
A little bit later, we came
to a place in the conversation where I playfully mentioned how much he might like to have
my pussy wrapped tightly around his cock with my lips close to his ear, every
breath, every moan and every word punctuated with his thrusting. That brought
the question from him, “What would you say to me as I punished your pussy?”
Crap… another request for
more spoken words. (I know, I know… this is what good Dominant men do to
willing subby girls… they push them, they stretch them. They find the areas
where they need growth and they help them grow. As much as I was blushing
during the conversation, I admit, I loved the gentle pushing.)
But. Still… nothing. Not one
single sexy phrase would come to my head, slip off my tongue… I put myself, mentally, in
that position, under his hand, his cock buried violently inside of me, pounding
away… what could I say, what would I say… the only thing that came to mind was
that I would say anything he told me too.
But he wanted my thoughts, my
most twisted desires and raunchiest fantasies whispered against his ear. He didn't want words he gave me whispered back to him. What would he learn about me from
that? What would I learn about me? Nothing.
But that is the extent of my
experience with verbally sharing fantasies in that sort of sexually charged
situation.
(History lesson: Many of you
know, some of you don’t, but this is my secret life. In my real life I am
married. I have a family. A job, kids, the whole nine yards.)
So my husband might say, who
do you belong to? I know the answer to that… You. I belong to you. Do you love
it when I fuck you? I know the answer to that. Oh yes, I love it when you fuck
me. You’re such a little slut aren’t you? Know the answer to that one too, Yes,
I’m a little slut.
Don’t get me wrong, this is a
very hot, intense exchange of constants and vowels punctuated with grunts, and
groans, and cries of pleasure but it’s pretty basic. Simple. It doesn’t require
much of me. It’s also very safe. It’s all about him and the moment we’re in. Now
when the subject of fantasies is brought up that’s a wholly other thing. Start
talking about fantasies and you open up a whole can of worms. Some of which
might be darker or more twisted than my husband is prepared to hear that I am
interested in. I know, from hard learned experience, that many of my fantasies
scare my husband, they turn him off, they make him look at me like… who the
hell are you and where is my wife. So I have learned over the years to keep
certain fantasies to myself. To dream of them only when my eyes were closed or
I was alone.
I share them in my secret
places like here, my twitter, my tumblr. I don’t share them where he can see and
I never, ever talk about them out loud. So when it comes to completing the
request today of telling, in detail, what I want done to me or what I might be
doing to him… I froze up.
Here comes the part where I
learned something today. I learned that part of the reason that I freeze up and
get so blushy is simply that while I have a seriously wide naughty streak in
this sweet, normal girl shell, it always surprises me just how naughty I can be
and it makes me blush, makes me feel shy and makes it hard for me to be
brazenly naughty. But what I learned today is that there is an element of fear
and rejection that goes along with it because of my real life situation.
When I do find a way to open
up and verbally express those desires to have that openness met with fear,
jealousy or outright disgust quickly causes me to pull back into myself and
keep those fantasies and twisted thoughts much closer to myself.
Now I’m being asked to find
my inner slut and share the darkest fantasies I have with a man I find myself
desperately wanting to please. What I know is this. There is not a single
desire that I can think of having that would put even a morsel of fear or
jealousy in this man. None that he would be reluctant to help me achieve. Every
naughty fantasy I have would be sweet music to his ears if I could reveal them
to him. There would be heat and lust and desire created that would be more
intense than possibly anything I’ve experienced before. For the first time in
as long as I can remember I felt like I could have said anything in response to
his request, given him any of the deepest darkest corners of my mind and he
would have reveled in that darkness, licked it up and exposed my very core to
his probing, to his curiosity and ultimately to his satisfaction.
Bring
Out
That
Filthy
Slut.
I want her.
His words have an immediate
and direct effect on my libido, my panties and my desire to do the things he
wants me to do.
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