Manic: Free Form Poetry

Sleepy, hot, high-anxiety, I wrote this as it came to me, fiery and intense and strange and possessing all the tendencies of a Master / Slave Dynamic mixed with a dash of self loathing. Not sure what, if anything, it represents, but as a piece conjured from anxious consciousness, maybe there is something to be found for the curious reader – TD&D

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You know it’s wrong – to come to her

Moving so fast that if your life was a film,

It’d be shot with a handheld camera.

You know it’s wrong,

To stand before her and demand

Something of her

It’s like being on the outside

Looking in on an asshole.

You know it’s wrong

When she obeys

Her eyes glistening with understanding

As she dresses down before you.

You know it’s wrong

Wanting. Channeling. Breathing. Taking.

So why do you do it?

A Sleepy Sexy Something

Who is the girl that wilfully stands to attention, head bent, back straight, like he showed her how?

Watch her face come alive with the light of the universe as she is granted permission to kneel before him.

Watch this girl’s child-like wonder as she runs her hands over his cock, like a toy. Like her very own brand new toy on Christmas, delivered deliciously by a devilish Santa himself.

Where does this sudden innocence, this transformation into a child come from? O watch as she smiles crookedly, sweetly, stupidly as she takes her first licks, her tongue rolling up the length of his cock, coating it with her own saliva, marking it as her own. Watch her blue eyes expand, seem larger than life, seem full of life, as she is right where she wants to be.

She’s utterly devoted to his pleasure. Her own comes from the satisfaction knowing she has pleased him, comes from hearing his moans, from tasting his cock.

It will come from taking his Cock into her mouth as far as she can. She would take it till she choked, she loves it so, but he never lets her. He stops her when she tries, telling her with that commanding voice she can’t betray.

Instead she will adapt to the rhythm of his soft moans, exploring taste and pace. Who is this girl that was so eager to kneel, to taste, to want so badly to taste him that she stops and begs him to come in her mouth just this once because she’s been good, oh so good.

Who is the girl?

Late Night Rambles: The Submissive Teaches…

I’ve been reflecting at this ungodly hour of 3am, about where I’ve come from and where I’m going. This has been sparked from a family discussion just the other day about the fluidity of love and life and how we perceive and accept that or choose to hide from it.

And it hit me – the greatest teachers, the priceless teachers when it comes to my journey as a dominant man, have been submissive women. Which kinda makes sense but I’ll get to that in a moment – I want to ask something of the submissive readers, men or women, at the end of this ramble so either keep reading or skim to the last paragraph or something.

The beginning of my journey into becoming the dominant I am today was largely done alone by me, that much is true. I read and I..er..watched and I did my homework – but the bulk of how I truly learned to be a dominant came from my interactions with submissive women – some who were my good friends before we discovered we shared an interest in kink, some I met through Fetlife and somehow made an impression.

When I look back, I can see key moments where something was revealed to me – a piece of my personality, say, or an error I made, or how a fellow primal opened my eyes to how I was articulating this desire I struggled to identify.

Oh I fell a lot. Like an overly green and keen guy, I jumped off the waterfall without learning how to break the water below to soften the fall. In turn my actions hurt. And it was through this falling that I began and learned how to communicate – and through that I understood where I went wrong.

And communicating was easier with a woman I found. Maybe it was the all lady household I grew up in but I never really resonated too well with guys. I preferred the company of women as a teen and that’s how my adult life has been too – I have a few close guy friends and probably more close lady friends. I don’t know – who counts?

But through talking, they helped guide me and in turn this shaped the person I became today, not only for my own benefit as a human being and – later I would find – when I began to mentor actively, but it benefited my relationship with my lady, who has taught me a thing or two about myself as well.

So to the submissive I say this: don’t doubt the power of your mind or your words on someone’s mind. You can guide with grace and strength just as equally as anyone, experience has taught me.

And here comes that last paragraph I mentioned earlier —– as a blog with a dominant focus, to the submissive – men or women – I ask you – what would you like me to write about from a dominant’s perspective? Is there something you were always curious about? Perhaps it’s something to do with dominant thinking, or behaviour? Is there a process you’ve been curious about?

I’m looking for new ideas. As a writer, I want to satisfy any curiosities. I know things will come to me, as they do, but I seek a submissive’s mind for this matter. A fresh perspective. By all means, pick my brain.

October AMA + Let’s Play Twenty Questions!

Something that I did either last year or the year before and had a lot of fun with was a game of TWENTY QUESTIONS. I gave the option to anyone, follower, reader or lurker, to ask me anything they were curious about me – it could be anything BDSM related, it could be hobby related, anything that sparks their imagination and I’d do the same to them.

Some folks participated, often dropping five questions at a time before putting the next five into words, and it was a lot of fun. So for October’s little AMA, I thought I’d put it out there for regulars or newcomers to ask anything they’d like on top of the regular Q/A. Everything is on the table! Nothing is too sacred! Please don’t be shy! If a submissive or dominant in training has any questions, please do feel at home here.

On the occasion that no one wants to try their hand at it, consider this just a breezy read all the same.

1. How do you handle misbehavior in public? Do you consider discreet but immediate chastisement or do you punish later in private?

I consider discreet first and foremost, mainly because I find that a stern look without any words can be quite effective and has a way of locking my kitten into place from where she stands.

So if kitten misbehaves, I’ll shoot her a look and speak gently in a volume only we seem to hear. And if she wants to try her hand at continuing, maybe she’s feeling extra feisty, I’ll give her another warning and after that, the promise of when she gets home, she’s going to have one sore bottom – that is for certain.

2. How is the punishment responded to? What are your favorite forms of discipline to correct bad behavior?

How is the punishment responded to? Usually a sulk and, if she’s feeling a little bratty, a slight defiance – which I don’t usually react to, given I give her a warning and can’t help but love her fiery behaviour at times.

As for favourite forms of discipline? I like a good old fashioned time out – a la ‘go to your room for x amount of minutes and think on how you’ve been’. Smacking is effective because it usually accompanies my voice which is strict by the time I’m ordering her to lean across my knee.

I also like the idea of writing out a set limit of lines. Spending time in quietness, reflecting on any error, is intriguing to me as a dominant for its effect that It has on the mind. That, and I love kitten’s hand writing.

3. How do you feel about having your submissive not look you in the eye? Do you prefer the lowered gaze in submission? When would it be appropriate for the submissive to look upon you?

When I feel it’s appropriate, say if she has been naughty or overly defiant and attempts to break out of her routine, I will have her stand to attention – back straight, arms clasped, head down – but this is only in times where that situation applies.

I don’t mind eye contact, to be honest. I love looking into people’s eyes, which probably sounds weird but hey. Anyway – there will be plenty of times where I ask her to look at me, whether it’s during when we are playing together or when she knows she’s being naughty and my shift in voice and face has her frozen as our inner dominant and submissive respond to each other in that delightful natural way,

4. How do you feel when a submissive comes to you and says they have no limits? Do you test them right away? Do you try to show them the error of their ways?

Naturally I’m intrigued because there will be this sliiiight part of me, this sadistic part, that will think ‘oh really? Let us see about this…’ – but that is on a pure psychological level because right now in my life I’m starting to understand that testing endurance in different ways is intriguing to that Master in Me, you know?

So when I hear someone say this, my immediate reaction will be to take a walk through their mind and get their input on all the different things there is to talk about. Maybe there is something there to find, a delicious breaking point, and if not, then there’s definitely something to discuss.

I wouldn’t necessarily say I’d show them the errors of their ways – because maybe in doing so I may have made a fool of myself in finding out they really have no limit. But I’ve definitely found pain thresholds in people who enjoy hefty amounts of pain. I’m trying to be vague here haha.

That’s it for my little Question prompts for the Halloween season. Again – please don’t let any shyness get the better of you. Come say hey! Ask me anything – it can be quite literally anything – would I rather have ten horse sized ducks or ten duck sized horses? (Ten horse sized ducks definitely!)

Vacancy

I feel like, from here until November the first, in the spirit of Halloween approaching, you can consider my blog like a dusty hotel on the highway.

I’m sure you know the kind – the N in Vacancy blinks in and out of existence, there’s not a car in the parking lot and you’re reminded of a fellow that had a house on the hill behind his very own motel from long ago.

You, my dear ladies and gents, are the people stopping by to rent a room. Me? I’m the lowly owner and operator, something, I’m sure I’ll say to you, I have wanted to do for as long as I can remember. I’ll greet you with a warm smile and a story from my past, I’ll tell you about the history of this place, that the pub up the road does the best meals for the best prices. I’ll say all this and more with a smile on my face and a twinkle in my eye.

Each room might have the same decal, the same musty smell, the wallpaper beginning to crack and peel off, but there’s personality I would think you’ll find. Personality that creates charm. Charm that makes you feel at home.

Oh – and should you find yourself awake in the middle of the night, maybe you’ve ducked out into the dark for a smoke beneath the flickering neon light, maybe you can’t sleep because this bed is not your own, if you find yourself hearing the cries, the sobs, the walls of a young woman, do not be disturbed. For that is my kitten, which I totally do not have chained in the basement, like the little well-behaved Slave pet probably she is.

If she’s wailing, do not be alarmed. She likes to act out when it’s feeding time, she likes to test my boundaries and patience when she’s cuffed. We’re working out some of the kinks, you see. That’s all. Nothing a good discipline will not solve, yes indeed ladies and gents. She’ll be herself in the morning, she always is. It’s just that the evenings make her go a little mad. And in turn that makes me a little mad I suppose. I can’t seem to help myself when she clicks her tongue and calls to me so sweetly. I just can’t. There’s just something she does to me, something I can’t quite put my finger on. Things need to be twisted and taunted, things need to be corrected so she will learn, this I keep telling her.

Anyway. Don’t let me keep you. I hope you enjoy your time here. There is a lot of history to be had from these walls around you. I hope you are open to it’s charms.

If you need anything, anything at all, give me a call. I’m a night owl and welcome the company. Good evening.

Storm

I want to lay down in the earth and have the rain pelt my body till I’m numb, till the pressure drives me mad.

I want to hurt, to scour my skin till I reach the next layer, the new me.

I want to feel objectified, insignificant, a mere speck in the universe, begging to exist.

And I want the shed the skin that’s dragging me down so I can begin again for you.

Sweet Relief

We talk about relief in terms of domination and submission, of orgasms, forced or denied until madness. We talk of the build, the pressure and the release as the holy trinity but something else that I can see being added to all this is the sensuality behind urinating. In certain situations, of course.

I’ve never been one to think of golden showers as erotic but I’d be a liar if I said it hasn’t started to occur to me as of late when it comes to the holy trinity, the three stages of sweet relief.

I’m guilty of letting things build. I delay the release in favour of the thing I’m writing or the movie I’m watching or if I’m enjoying a walk with company – insert numerous situations. Sometimes, dear reader, I admit to lying in bed, unable to find motivation, denying myself release as I browse WordPress or see to daily tasks.

When it comes to the pressure, the act of relief is in the back of my mind. The urge escalated but so does the eroticism. In my mind’s eye, I’m starting to transform, like a werewolf under the full moon, and I’m above a Slave about to commence a daily ritual.

This ties into a Master side of me I would guess, because in my mind, it’s a ritualistic encounter. In my mind, I’m delaying her pressure like a dick sadist. In my mind, there is no God because I’m the devil here. You see what I mean? It’s a gut-wrenching alternate me. And it’s profoundly erotic in ways I’d never think.

And then there’s that millisecond of ecstasy where you let go – you’re not afraid to release, you are free. I can almost feel myself plummeting from the top of a waterfall down into the lake, ready to be reborn by the act as much as she will be. We’re born together.

Maybe I’m being pretentious but I don’t know if I am. There’s a lot going on in my mind at times when I urinate that I’m not sure you could boil it down to sheer over-thinking. I mean, there’s a ritual there. Something sacred. There’s worship and the idea of being worship. There’s ownership and trust and a shared connection.

I can picture myself being right there with her, elated with her, transported with her, high on the act just like her. But I can also sense, on my part, in my Dominance, feeling that relief of letting go, of shedding my skin and feeling my new body for the very first time.

I could get used to that ritual.