The Psychology Of Evil

Are Dominants just ‘well-adjusted sociopaths’?

That was the question that awaited me in my email just now, and to be honest, I don’t really blame a wondering mind like that. If you traveled back in time to when I was 25 and experimenting and new, you’d find me wondering if I was insane for thoughts I’d later associate with BDSM dynamics.

However, it’s simply not the case. At least from my own personal experiences.

I mean, I’m sure there are plenty of well adjusted sociopaths that are dominant out there – I’ve seen it on reddit and on Fetlife. I’ve heard it from those I’ve mentored. It’s unfortunately just that dynamic that makes it easier to prey on the unsuspected.

But to wonder if all Dominants are that way would be a gross generalisation – and one that reeks of cynicism.

Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t to shame those that ask the question or to those that wonder the question. I did, and I think at some point others will too.

That all dominants have been put into that question is where I find myself disagreeing – and where I felt compelled to bring this to the table and just put it out there, as its an intriguing topic that I found myself contemplating. Any topic that has me pondering in general is a great thing and I welcome thoughtful discussion. So should the person that relayed the question be reading this, please don’t take it as an attack.

Since starting this blog and thinking out loud and conversing with readers, I have learned that BDSM isn’t just some glorified sex fantasy, it runs deeper than that. The people interested in BDSM and in living a D/s relationship are vulnerable, soft-spoken and intelligent folk with hearts of gold. They feel intensely, they ache intensely and they ponder so deeply what it means to be human, to want something so dark, to want pain.

More than this, to operate in a D/s relationship is to open your heart and mind to being exposed and examined in a way that leaves you raw in a way that a non-kinky relationship might not.

The blog posts I’ve read are so thoughtful and heart aching sometimes that I can’t see these people not opening themselves to feeling such feelings like guilt or remorse or love – something I don’t believe a sociopath can feel. Correct me if I’m wrong.

Obviously there will be minds that lean towards that evil and abuse of trust and power. It pains me to hear that that’s all some people out there – who are looking for something genuine – find.

I’ve been lucky. No, scratch that – I’ve been stupidly lucky. And stupidly blessed. I’ve met more lovely people in this lifestyle than evil.

That’s me though, the guy that looks up the end of the movies to see if a dog dies or not – or ugly cries at tv shows or spends too much time worrying about things I shouldn’t be worrying about.

I don’t know, guys. It’s late, I’m rambling. I’ll end it here.

World Mental Health Day

Hi there,

How are you today? How have you been this week?

Today is World Mental Health Day and I just wanted to tell you that if you’re having a really shit time, please hang in there. You’ve got what it takes to keep going, no matter how battered and bruised and hopeless it feels. Just please – keep on going. You’re stronger than you realise.

If you’re feeling like you haven’t got anyone to talk to, please – look into talking to someone, either a professional or a friend. There is no shame in telling people how you feel – to a friend, those who matter don’t mind and to a psych, that’s why they’re in that line of job. They want to help you.

I was diagnosed with panic disorder and anxiety when I was 25. Suddenly, my weird mood swings and anxious periods across my entire existence made sense. I was suffering anxiety.

Through acknowledging what I have, by not undermining who I am as a person outside of that disorder, I have come to live a happy and mostly functional life. I still go through times where I question conversations, where I question my job as a writer and where my sexuality and dominance suffers because I freeze on the spot and disrupt a scene or sexual tension. It’s the most devastating and soul crushing thing.

But reading about it, hearing from others who struggle with it, has led me to understand what I suffer and how I can come to combat it. It has brought me awareness and education and a means to live as close to a healthy life as I can.

You’re not alone. You’re never alone.

If you EVER need an anxiety buddy, I am one message or email away. That extends to everyone.

Love and hugs to all. Take care of yourself.

Thank You

I just checked my stats now and to my surprise I’ve hit 1000 followers – which is absolutely insane to think of. 1000 people. I was blown away with 1 person but 1000?

It means the world to me that my words have been able to connect with people, either to help or to meditate on their life or to arouse. Never in a million years, did I think anyone would be interested in what I had to share – or that I’d find lovely people to communicate with to make my world a little less lonely – it still floors me that someone thanks me for something so THANK YOU – for reading my writings, for reaching out and saying hello, for any critical conversations, for challenging my perceptions as a human being and as a dominant. Thank you!

To anyone I haven’t had the pleasure talking to, know that you are always welcome to write in to me, no matter the topic. My email or twitter DM is always open, you never have to feel insecure or inexperienced or silly around me, no matter age or nationality or language barrier. You’re always welcome!

But yeah, don’t congratulate me! This isn’t me fishing for praise. This is me expressing my dumbfounded gratitude at those that find me worthy of a follow. I know I’ve been writing slower this year so I hope you stick with me. I always have something dark and kinky around the corner!

A Dark, Sadistic Fantasy Of Mine

As a dominant, there has always been this sadistic bone in my body, this underlying aspect to my personality that delights in sheer torture, in humiliation and degradation.

One of the hottest fantasies of mine – to me – is the idea of stalking this woman from her home, kidnapping her and taking her to something abandoned industrial complex where its cold and dank and dark – and training her day in and day out to become a behaved little sex doll.

The one thing that thrills me and tickles my bones is the psychological interaction between, say, myself and this unnamed pretty little thing. I have this idea in me that I can break down, essentially, who she is – who she’s developed into.

The tastes that she has, the life that she’s built, whether she is in a relationship or married – I can work to break all that down – because….at the end of the day, we all have this spot in the back of our minds that we leave locked up, that we’re afraid of. It could be related to anything – being rude, being mean, being a sexual deviant, wanting to speak our minds but knowing better.

And I want to break that down in her. I want to…picture this – that she’s completely naked, chained by her hands to stand upright panting, sweating, begging. Picture that there’s she has some fight in her, that she will fight back to hold on to some semblance of who she was while I whip her with my belt.

You see, I want to find her limit. We can decide whether to push that limit or extend it softly later – but for now, I want to find it so I can get her to tell me EVERY. SINGLE. LITTLE. DETAIL. That her morality is locking up in the depths of her mind, either consciously or subconsciously. I want to break her down, raw and roughly and coarse, until she’s a sensitive mess of a human being, because then we get to who she is and what she wants and why.

And when she’s broken down and trembling, when every inch of her body and mind is on fire from this physical and emotional assault, then I can teach her, train her. To be obedient, to be a loving, giving, adoring Slave. No matter how long it takes. I’ve got the patience.

Why? Because minds fascinate me. I want to break down barriers, find the messy heart. I want to study what makes them tick, what darkness they have within them, what they consider light. I want to set them free.

It’s a dark fantasy in my head, a giddy rush to my cock, igniting my senses, stimulating my mind.

Torment

A pretty little thing lay bound to the bed, chains linked across her bare body.

Her auburn hair had fallen across her furrowed brow, strands reaching down to mask her eyes.

The muscles in her neck clenched tight as her stomach reached up to meet the cool kiss of the chains around her breasts, pockets of ice biting at her nipples.

He hovered above her, a leg on each side of her, his thick and uncut cock fully hard as it frames shadows across her belly button.

His cock bobs in the air – in truth, he uses what muscles he has to hold tight. He feels the pleasure swirling from the pit of his stomach down to his shaft, reaching its own tendril to skim underneath his testicles.

Pre-come glistens the tip of his cock. He knows this, is aware of this. He uses this to his advantage, letting a strand run down his shaft and across the length of his testicles to drop across her chained stomach.

She murmurs in frustration, a strangled sound somewhere between a beg and a fierce cry. He may be aware of how Come is dripping in a sequence of dots traveling upwards to her breasts but the one thing He isn’t aware of is how badly she craves to taste him.

Her thirst is ridiculous, unquenchable. In this moment, bound and at the mercy of Him, she truly believes that if she can’t taste him, just a drop even, she will descend into madness.

In a heartbeat it terrifies her, this longing. An image comes fully formed to her, an animal writhing and growling and howling, it’s throat raw, spittle bubbling on its lips, pupils large. It’s body vibrating with desperation. Somehow she understands that she will become the animal if she doesn’t own up to her own feelings, if she cannot accept what she wants and the ferocity of how badly she wants it.

She can feel his come smack against her flesh, can lift her head just enough so that she can see his Cock bobbing in the air, a drop beading on its head, but not His face. She imagines his smile – and her thirst for him grows.

Late Night Reflection

One of the reasons why I started this blog was because I have so many dark thoughts in my mind – sexually, you understand. Sadistic thoughts, deviant thoughts. Perverted.

Sometimes that can get lonely, sometimes – well, not sometimes – for the most part, I have a thought that could consist of having a sex Slave frozen in the snow, just to see her tits harden, to challenge her perceptions psychologically, sometimes I think of brutal, feral rape.

And I think I’m insane – the only person out there that feels that way. And so starting this blog was my way of making sense of that primal unfiltered part of me, with the hopes that A) I would find I was not alone and B) I could help someone out there that’s just like me. Maybe, some way, I can help them find their voice.

It means so SO much to me when someone writes to me and expresses how they’ve been trying to find the courage to write to me to ask a question or engage in a discussion about the subject matter I wrote about. I think it take immense strength to approach someone and open up about something so personal and I’m honoured some part of me can help in some small way.

Looking back on my growth, as a human, as a man, as a lover and as a dominant – my journey through bdsm and kink has been so much more than labels and D/s and dynamics, it’s been about my journey to begin to express myself, process myself and to take the steps to accept that part of myself, to understand what I can.

Writing helps me reflect on these desires, to examine their depths – and to create, which I love doing. So, here’s to trying to write more.

Spring Brings Out My Primal

I can hear it – the rain rattling across the roof, a rhythm just for me.

I can feel it – stirring from its long rest, shaking off the fog of sleep.

I am aware of my heart sounding off in my ears, the warm blood in my veins.

My toes uncurl against fresh sheets, eager to move, to race.

Nothing has no rhyme or reason. What is the meaning behind the season?

It wrestles me to take hold. I feel its needs take control.

And I am but a puppet, a monster cast in black and white. Expressionistic. Fatalistic.

Bones and muscle lock in place.

Gnarled fingertips claw beneath my skin. I feel it frustrated deep within.

Without it I’m a shell, a jagged edge incomplete. I need it here with me, in on chatter, eavesdropping with devilish delight.

Come and set me free.