So when I grow closer to becoming 30, I look at my twenties as some sort of epic saga I underwent to find the meaning behind love and life and existence. I’m not quite there yet, I have a bit to go. Until then, I have my blog here.
As I write to you all, I’m sitting in my childhood bedroom, nude and listening to the rain fall gently across my bedroom window. It’s adding to my already sleepy as hell mood. It’s made me think about a few things, the spanking of a bare ass in the rain for example, how the droplets run down my submissive’s ass with each smack, how her tangled wet hair will look all rough and unwieldily, or of me nude out there, being cleansed for the new year.
What I want to say is this: Don’t waste time on things if your heart isn’t set on it.
I checked my stats the other day and a searched phrase that found my blog was ‘scared of my punishment’. Don’t be. Don’t let that simmer. Communicate. Even if you have to force the words out from your throat and into the conversation.
Seize the moment, ladies and gents, because before you know it, you’ve spent the last 7 years in an unhealthy state of mind because your fear is in the driver’s seat.
Take that leap of faith, do something outrageous. Watch the scary movie. Take a spontaneous journey. Go for a walk nude, feel the earth through your feet. Wear something unusual, be it a dress, something that isn’t you, or go without underwear. Send that random photo, nude or otherwise, to your partner. And hell if you don’t have a partner, take it for yourself.
Always – ALWAYS – speak up. No matter the topic, the thought , or otherwise. I was always scared to for the longest while. I was scared to role play as brother and sister, I was scared to taste my own come, I was scared to admit that my animalistic feelings were genuine. After a while, with practice, you learn to just force it out. After a while you just become who you are.
Do the things you are afraid to do. Because for the longest while I was afraid that my desires were wrong, that who I was, was broken. But now I see I’m not the only one wondering that. Now I’m here. Writing to you.
So please, will you – yes, you dear reader – do something for me? Do what you’ve wanted to, what scares you? And both men and women are welcome to write to me about the experience at my email.
(The latter is wishful thinking on my behalf. It’s my birthday weekend, so pretty please?)