Let’s Ask Questions!

It is the week of contemplation! And seeing as though new people are stopping by my blog, I thought this might be a fun thing to attempt. 

So! Here’s my proposal. You can ask me twenty questions, in any kind of category, non sexual like movies or reading or writing – or sexual like tastes, history, fantasies – and I can ask you the same. To get to know you.

And to start off, here’s a few topics you can ask about  to get the mind thinking: Writing, movies, BDSM, any story I’ve published here, funny stories to tell, etc.

And you can give me a few topics relevant or important to you and I can think of questions to ask within these topics.

Is that hard? Cos asking questions is tricky. Where do you start? What do you want to touch on? IF you are interested, take your time. No rush. Ask me in the comments section and I can respond. Or if you’d rather email it out, darkanddominant@hotmail is the place to field off questions! 

I look forward to maybe engaging with you! 

On Dom Drop

Dom Drop
For a while I have wanted to talk about Dom Drop but I never knew how to word myself, or it itself, and so I filed the idea away in the back of my mind, in a little safe room. 
I feel like talking about it now.
Dom Drop is this sensation of feeling flat, after either a scene you’ve played out, or an act that you lost yourself in or any other situation you’ve gone deeply into. 
‘Feeling Flat’ is kind of an umbrella term though, isn’t it?

Underneath the umbrella, Dom Drop is this sensation of restlessness, depression, guilt, fear and a complete disinterest in all things Dominance and BDSM.
It can last for a few hours after a scene. It can last for a day. A week. Two weeks. It depends on the individual. 
For me, it can vary between the time frames I’ve listed above. And it can come about as quickly as flicking on a light switch. 
It’s tricky to define Dom Drop, because it weaves in and out of other aspects of your mind seamlessly. 
For example, I’m not always so sure of myself. If my lady wants to be rough, I hesitate. Is that my lack of confidence or is the guilt associated with Dom Drop worming it’s way into my brain? it’s hard to say. We’re complex creatures. 
Other times, I don’t want to be Sir. I just want to be this average joe. Let’s just cuddle in bed, or watch Netflix together and laugh at bad horror movies. I just don’t want that control right now. 
But keep in mind, I suffer anxiety and depression. Disassociation is part of the package. It comes back to the worming of different threads in your mind. Which is which? Maybe it’s a mix?
Whatever it is, its kind of like a crash. Like a caffeine crash or sugar crash. Kinda like how you deflate at the end of a long work day. And you’re in this funk you can’t get out of. 
It’s easy to lose yourself in the moments of Dom Drop. It’s easy to think things like ‘Well maybe I’m not fit for this life’ or ‘What’s wrong with me?’. The mind is trickier than we realise. And we can forget how powerful it can be in convincing you what is real.
My advice to those feeling restless and perplexed is to wait. Give it time, all the while thinking that things can and will turn around. Because the more distance you get from the initial moment, the more the fog will clear and you’ll get your appetite back.
And when you get your appetite back, you’ll see there is nothing wrong with your mind, that you’re not a fool, or going crazy. That everything is going to be okay. 

Sensory Overload

All it takes is for her to duck into the lounge room where I’m resting, completely nude, in all her mesmerising glory, to grab a head band for her bath —
And my mind is transported away.
She is chained to the bedroom, completely naked, her arms and legs spread apart.

There’s a bag over her head. Something new. Me being sadistic by toying sensory deprivation. She won’t be able to see. She won’t be able to quell any concern with a kiss. How long should I leave her with the bag on? Perhaps when the air runs low, when her mind is dazed, I could bring her to the brink of her orgasm — and as my mouth rests over her cunt, my tongue teasing her clit with small licks, I can remove the bag.

And as her senses rush back to her, her body seizes with all the power of an orgasm. 
The dizziness of the air rushing back to her melds with her pleasure. Maybe it’ll catapult her senses sky high. Maybe she might be elated. Soaring high into a space that’s beyond the norm but not beyond my reach.
I could bring her back with a gentle hug, soft words – and the reminder that I am in charge of her. And all that she is. 
And then I’m back in the lounge, a grin forms across my lips. I know just what to do. 

Some Questions For You Dear Readers…

Good morning, Evening and Afternoon, you lovely people!

I come to you from the darkened corners of my bedroom, ‘neath the dazzling pink sky of sunset, with some questions.

The first of which is – what, if anything, would you be interested to see me write about, either fictional or non fictional?

The second is a bit longer. 

You see, I’ve got this patreon on the side. And should anyone offer $5 a month or more for my writing, I wanted to give them something worthwhile. Something unique to my writing. Something only I can give.

So for those that enjoy my writing muchly, what is something that you’d like for, say, $5 a month? You being the reader and I being the writer, what door do you want opened? What dangerous psychological scenario do you want to get lost in? Early drafts? A personal Q/A? An audio recording of a story? 

I want to be able to offer something special for anyone that wanted to spend their money on me, but being a writer that is often anxious of his own work, I can’t look past and think straight. 

Is there something about the process you’d like to hear? Something about the making / inspiration? Why the poor tortured girl wore camo panties? Why I decided to write about vampires in a BDSM story? 

I guess what I’m asking is if this was you contemplating pledging (and this isn’t me being shifty and asking, I’m genuinely curious) – what would you like from the mind of a writer?

Your friend in the shadows, 


Wild At Heart

I wore clothes to bed for the first time in a while.
It was a particularly cold night in this here middle of winter Australian season. I thought to myself, I’ll just rug up. Sleeping nude can sometimes leave a chill and the last thing I want is to catch a cold. 
So I compromised. I took off my pants and left my shirt on. I figure keeping my chest warm was more important than my legs. 
For the first moments in bed, I was restless. My body screamed. An itch would snake its way up my back, under my right shoulder blade. Around and around in circles it slithered, knowing full well it was beyond the grasp of my arms as I tried to ease the itch. 
I tossed and turned, turned and tossed. I could feel the shirt construct me. Could feel the heat off my skin cooking underneath. Something didn’t feel good. Something didn’t feel right.
And the more I rolled left and right, the more my t shirt twisted beneath me, limiting my movements further. 
Enough was enough – I sat up and tore off my shirt and threw it to the space beside my side of the bed.
The feeling of peeling off the t shirt. Revealing bare skin, the cool middle of the night air skimming every surface of my body, the fact that I was naked…
My mind was instantly transported back to my youth. I had snuck away from the house, deep into the bush where I would undress. And run through the shrubs, feeling the wind on my body and a sense of freedom. I would masturbate there after a run. Feel my bare cock grow beneath my hands.
In that moment, I wondered how other people, those who enjoy nakedness, felt when they peeled off the last layer of clothing and felt completely and utterly naked in the world. 
In that moment, I thought of how it might felt for a woman to unclasp her bra and feel her breasts freed? The gentle breeze on a nipple, the feeling of them swaying as they are released. How a man might feel the air on his bare cock, how it might feel to touch that. 
I was reminded of a moment in time again: I had put a winter jumper on my pug. Moments later, I returned to the back yard to see she had removed it. She didn’t want it.
I, too, am the animal. Wild at heart, wanting not to be bound by clothes. Wanting to feel the world around on my skin.
And I have learnt my lesson – always sleep nude. 

The Mind is Always Evolving

I don’t think there will ever be a time where I’ll stop growing and evolving. Where I will reach the limit of my growth and can say ‘well, I’m definitely into all of these things and kinks, there’s nothing else’.
Though that’s sometimes frustrating, especially when someone asks ‘well, what do you identify as?’ And I have to stumble on my words to say I’m a mix of things, it’s also a thing of beauty. Because there will always be something brand new to discover. 
For example, there’s a huge part of me that identifies with the 19th century gentleman and this unspoken undercurrent of Dominance and submission. Jane Eyre, apart from being a terrific read in general, was deeply erotic for me. 
And I identify with this gentleman because a big part that I’m drawn to is regulation. Polite wording like ‘Pardon me’ instead of ‘huh?’, standing up straight – etiquette like that – it speaks to me.
And there’s so many different nuances to something like that. Chin up, beck straight, hands to the side, hands behind your back, ask for permission to go out with your girlfriends, all these different things that branch off to different concepts and regulations and ways in which the relationship can evolve or adapt.
But then aside from this strict gentleman, or the 1950’s household hybrid of that gentleman, there are the other aspects of my personality that I’ve discovered along the way, the Daddy and the Master.
The Daddy aspect has always been with me, I think, since my early twenties. And as I got older and more at ease with myself, it has been more prominent and refined. I’m sure if I co wrote a blog with my lady, she could vouch for times it comes out – say, if she’s snacking before dinner and I tell her not to, she can hear it in my voice. Or if she’s ill but staying up late. Of if I want to read to her or be by her side when she colours. 
Recently, I’ve felt a different side bubble to the surface that bears similar traits to a Master. This crosses over with the 19th century gentleman, as the concept of setting rules and regulations in a M/s environment with many different concepts also at play intrigues me. But it’s also not quite the dynamic that fits my current relationship, as my kitten and I sit somewhere between the M/s and Daddy / LG concepts. 
It’s weird to explain because the mind shifts at any given moment and borrows traits from established roles. So it’s a mix.
And as such, I think I will always be finding out new things about my mind. Maybe I’ll change. Maybe this relationship will change. The How’s and the Why’s can be pondered all night, and this thought is lengthy enough. 
Bottom line is that I’m always growing and learning and finding new ways to live and play and explore and that’s beautiful. 
How about you, stranger? Are you a mix?

Do Not Be Afraid Of Who You Are

I’ve been in the lifestyle for a number of years – 12, technically. And yet, a number of those were me wandering in the dark scared of my own desire. Fearful of who I was. 
I’m much better now, with an open dialogue between the various aspects of my personality. But I still struggle. Whenever I am about to post, I am scared initially. Scared that one day, one thought will go too far. One story will be too rough. Or weird. 
I mean, I’ve written about sea creatures and vampires and sex cults and you guys are still here. But I still worry. 

And so today, I want to talk about fear.
For some, it starts at the beginning of your journey. You have a thought so effective that it scares you because of how you perceive it – that it’s weird or demented or troubling. 
Maybe it’s not just a thought, maybe it’s a mindset. A rape fantasy. A bondage fantasy. Maybe you’re a masochist and you’re trying to understand why you like sadistic concepts. 
Running from that thought won’t work. I tried. I ended back at square one face to face with the thought. And I’d feel guilty.
The trick, I think, is to begin to rewire your outlook. Day by day, steal a moment to yourself and think about what scares you. Remind yourself you’re not alone. That it’s okay to be the way you are.
For me, it was a long and slow process. I signed up to Fetlife. I challenged myself with nude photos. I dived into the local conversation. And day by day, I’d take a moment to read about it, in books, online. 
I think because I always kept the door open to learn, that eventually it became second nature to me. I felt okay being this weird mix of Daddy / Master / Primal.
Even though that’s my story and everyone is different, I feel like the keeping the door open notion is useful. Don’t run from it, keep one foot in the door and one foot in your comfort zone until you are ready to take a wander through entirely.
What we feel, who we are, is natural. It’s what makes us beautiful. Whether you’re interested in bestiality, like an old friend of mine once was, or whether you’re laying in bed married but out of sorts with your spouse. 
The first step is admitting these thoughts are okay. Are your own. The next step is up to you. You might fall or stumble but you’re stronger then you realise. You’ll be okay.
If you need help taking that initial step, if you want to run by a desire just to hear someone else let you know it’s perfectly fine, if you are confused, whatever the reason, you’re not alone. My email – my door – is always open.
Don’t be afraid to step through.