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.

On Discovering I was Primal

I didn’t meet a person within the BDSM community that identified as being a primal until I was 26.

I didn’t even know the full extent of being a primal – I didn’t know about pet play, being a predator, being a prey or traits OF a primal person, even when I had a few of those traits.

I knew I was dominant. I knew I liked being naked outdoors, knew that it exhilarated me. I knew that the outdoors, as much of a house creature I can be, thrilled me. Oh to think of running, the wind in my hair, my heart beating, my legs kicking into gear. It was a beautiful, beautiful thing.

When I was 26, long after my marriage failed, I decided to sign up to Fetlife and not shut it down out of fear this time. And through happenstance, I met a lovely Canadian lady who I got along really well with – I mean, similar sense of humour, the type of rapid fire wit that flows. It was lovely, and I didn’t quite understand at the time why it was so lovely. Until she, on a whim, started to express wolf-like aspects – little whines over Skype calls, talk of wrestling over a disagreement about favourite movies. I started to sense something, or maybe I DEVELOPED the means TO SENSE through talking to her.

And the topic of being primal came up. I was a bit confused at first, till she pointed out traits I had, which she, or the animal within her, responded to. And suddenly it all made sense – why I liked to growl, why I liked to run naked as a teenager through the Bush, why I felt SOMETHING fighting back within me when I was married and had chosen to stop thinking of BDSM and kink because I wanted to work for my marriage and be a good husband. Something primal and animalistic was there, it always there.

As these things sometimes go, one day we just stopped talking. Days went by, then weeks and then months. I haven’t spoken to her since, which is a shame because I owe her a lot. I guess that’s life, in a way. Strangers. Angels even? Who knows.

I’ve learned a lot about primal since then. A lot of it has come through googling, a lot has come through my own development and my development with my kitten, who has primal traits herself.

It’s strange meeting another primal person because sometimes I get this sense, however brief. I pick up on a trait, an inkling in someone. I can feel their openness and spontaneity and how raw they have themselves open to conversation – and how they conversation can flow! Usually these people and I get on like a house on fire – sense of humour and personality is similar and it’s easy to chat to them.

But it can be lonely too, sometimes. I check reddit, I’m part of Fetlife. I occasionally log into The Cage – I rarely see anything about a primal. I know it can be anything from not being advertised or being straightforward enough to mention – but it’s almost like it’s not at the forefront of Kink or D/s or BDSM. Or maybe it’s just me and it is there but behind whatever else someone displays via their notes or text or picture.

I don’t know about about anyone else, but sometimes it can feel like you are alone adrift at sea. I am blessed to have my kitten, my partner, who licks me and wrestles me to the bed – I have that connection now. But I didn’t always, and even then sometimes it’s just nice to know that there are others like you out there too, getting in touch with their own darkest desires.

To any folk out there, you are definitely not alone. There are more of us than you may think.

An Open Letter To Kinky Teens

Hey there. I hope you’re having a lovely day.

The first thing that I want to say is that, if you’ve found my blog through whatever means, I hope that there has been a piece I have written that has made you see that you aren’t alone in what you are feeling.

That, I feel, is the most important thing I can say or write to you right now — that what you are feeling can feel like a vortex of insanity but that doesn’t mean you are insane and that doesn’t mean what you’re feeling is wrong or disgusting or outrageous, no matter if you’ve had a parent tell you, or an ex tell you – some people are scared by it, some don’t understand it. And in turn that scares them. Don’t let their conceived reality become yours.

You have it in you to be strong and you certainly have it in you to overcome any barriers, to learn and to organise your thoughts in a way that will make you less anxious. You need a platform to organise them, to talk of them. But you are certainly up to the challenges of such a task! And I promise you, the more you practice a challenge, the easier it becomes in time. I wish I knew that growing up.

I was 12 when I started exploring kink – running through forests naked, indulging in things I’d later know where primal. I was 16 when I started exploring degradation and humiliation, not knowing degradation and humiliation were terms for what I found arousing. I only know these now because I did some digging and soul searching in my twenties – and that’s another thing you have on your side – time! Time to research, to assess, to know that being submissive is more than taking orders, it’s about your inner power and inner worry, just as being dominant is more then control, it is about knowing when to lead and when to be led, as well as harnessing both yourself and your partner in a safe environment.

Please be safe. The internet can be a wonderful place where people are so welcoming but it can also be a place for predators, faceless figures looking to take advantage of your naivety when it comes to BDSM and D/s.

I wish I had websites to recommend or teen-friendly sites for BDSM and kink, I don’t. I learned the long, hard way – typing things into google, finding non-fiction books like SM101 by Jay Wiseman from Goodreads. The little things like that that helped me. But I also did stupid stuff, like finding kink communities on the Whisper app and openly talking about my problems. Don’t do something like that – don’t open yourself to that kind of hurt. I know I’m being the hypocritical adult here, that’s a lot of adults for you – we make mistakes and don’t want that for someone else but — just be careful. Don’t rush into anything with anyone, talk if you must and learn but be mindful of your self and your worth and the power you have in your sexual identity.

Because let me tell you, you’re normal and you’re lovely and there’s not a thing wrong with you. I remember feeling like that, and you know what? I remember learning that I wasn’t alone in the world, that people were just like me out there.

Take your time. You’ll be fine.

I will never turn anyone away that wants to talk, regardless of age. My email is always open.