CALL OF THE DAY: the Case of the Reluctant Dom
I was hoping for a good call to get me started back, after four months of being away. No, let’s be honest: I was, in my heart of hearts, hoping that I would make it big enough in theatre this year that I wouldn’t have to get started back. But, since I have known for some weeks that I would be doing phones again this fall, I have hoped that my re-entry would not be too horrible. Not Extreme Top. Not the Strangler. Not Dead Soul. That shit you gotta work up to.
I lucked out, though. I got the Reluctant Dom.
I think I’ve written about him before, but I can’t find any other posts about him here, so I’ll be brief in the recap: the Reluctant Dom is a gentle man with a sadistic streak a mile wide, and he loathes himself for it. I remember more than one occasion, after a call in which he has just been lashing me with a belt or pulling on handfuls of my pubic hair, and during that gasping post-coital cool-down, he has said something along the lines of “I’m a bad man. I can’t keep doing this. What woman would ever want this?”
Of course I tell him that there are women out there who would want that, who would gladly take all the torment he dished out, if he took care of them afterward. I tell him it’s fine. I’m not sure he’s listening. I don’t know whether or how much of his self-loathing is essential to his turn-on. I don’t think much. I think he really doesn’t want to be turned on like this, and as an active kinkster, that makes me sad. So occasionally with him, I break my own rules and ofter advice or meta-scene encouragement. This is okay to want, I say.
Today I looked at the Reluctant Dom’s card and realized that I hadn’t talked with him in over a year. He just hasn’t requested me, and he said, without prompting, that he hasn’t called for at least a year. He had me up in the examining table in the doctor’s office, where a mild-mannered interview about my continued lack of orgasm tumbled pretty quickly into him calling his two beautiful nurses in to beat me with a belt and suck on my tittieses and fuck me with a strap-on while I begged for more and eventually came. After he came, I asked if there was a reason he hadn’t called in so long, and I could almost hear him shrugging his shoulders and blushing.
Right. Not my place to know. But I like to imagine that he wrestled with his demons, and then won and went out and found Fetlife. A year is about long enough for that journey to at least begin, even for a very reluctant dom.