If Life Were A Slasher Film, You’d Be My Victim


Violated.

Sometimes we think we understand words. You know – understand their full meaning in so many different ways. But sometimes an experience comes along that redefines that feeling – that word. And from that point in time onwards, you live your life with the updated knowledge that this is love, that this is heartbreak. That you knew Violation when your husband tried it out on you while the kids were away, while you both still felt human. 

But I promise you, if I catch you in my woods. If I find you’re skinny dipping in my Lake or getting high in the cabins, I will do you the honours of taking the word violated and redefine it when I back you into a corner.

When your mascara runs, when your body trembles and your breasts sway with the panic — when I coil my hands around your thin loose top that classifies as an item of clothing and tear it off, you will come to understand what it means to be violated.

When your body is pinned under mine, and you can smell the sweat I’ve worked up stalking you, watching you and the rest of those friends of yours — when my hand finds the slit of your cunt, roughly divides its folds eagerly with my fingers and your body betrays you with its act of preparing you for the act, you will come to understand what it means to be violated. 

When my other hand finds your nipple, your sweet puffy nipples, and pulls outwardly with all of my might – when you feel as if you can’t take the pain anymore, you will come to understand what it means to be violated.

And at the moment your mind snaps, when the madness washes over you, when your body breaks beneath my coarse caress, you will come to redefine what it means to be violated. 

Because no matter what anyone does to you in the comfort of your bedroom or little fucking play scene you have set out for each other. No matter if he takes you while you swim in the warm inviting lake.

What I can do, in the darkness, with your mind, while you’re alone and staring at your reflection in the full length mirror in the cabin bedrooms will be so much worse.

Behave. 

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One For A Dream

After the children have gone down, 

And she can finally undress to herself, 

she sits topless by the window 

and stares into her reflection.
  

Teacher. Doctor. Lawyer.

Slave. Pet. Baby Girl.

Hiding and yet

In plain sight. 

The world sees her and yet

Doesn’t see her. 

Doesn’t know

What she has to give.

 

But each day she strives

And never falters 

To live

Not exist. 

Dear Teenagers Nervous About BDSM…

When you’re a teenager and you’re navigating your sexuality, it can feel like the scariest thing in the world.

Who can you talk to? How do you learn? Can you talk to adults on the web or will they think you’re silly and turn you away like the others have? Worst case scenario: Will they abuse your trust and attempt to flirt with you?

It wasn’t easy in the age of no internet and it certainly isn’t easy now even with all this information at your fingertips ready to be absorbed.

As a perverted teenager into BDSM, I found my way by falling a lot. And often stood in circles listening to others laugh or frown at the very idea of BDSM and other such kink related things.

If things are overwhelming you, if you feel like you’re trapped and cannot talk to anyone without feeling ashamed or – worse – invalid – then I’ve got a few concepts for you to consider:

You’re Not Alone

Your sexual thoughts, your desires, and your questions do not – I repeat – DO NOT make you – silly, stupid, invalid, wrong, a freak, disgusting – any of those things.

I guarantee you that whatever you’re feeling or thinking or even fantasising about, someone has experienced that before. That’s not to say you aren’t unique – because each of us ARE – rather it means the kink you think is rare or weird isn’t as rare or weird as you think.

I used to feel the same way. I mean, I was a teen with a brother-sister incest fantasy. And you know what? That led me to other people who felt as weird as I did.

The weird thing about the universe is that it leads you to certain people. They’ll be drawn to you and vice versa. Something to consider when the going gets tough.

 

Journal Your Thoughts, Fears and Dreams

What do you fantasise about? What do you want to explore? What keeps you up at night? Write it down.

When it comes to you, your mind and the page, you’d be surprised where your mind goes and what you write down.

I used to keep a journal of all my feelings – and that damned thing survived three relationships and a fuck tonne of moping.

More than this, you might find yourself discovering new things about the way your mind works.

You learn to analyse in a way, and in doing so you find yourself coming back to a moment that can help define whatever it is you are seeking or whatever you are exploring.

So long as you are truthful with yourself, you can go as deep into your psyche as you want to learn about your ticks.

 

The Only Silly Question Is The One Not Asked

I used to hate asking questions. Why? Because I felt like a total idiot. I felt like a bother. And I always felt like the person I was asking didn’t feel like they should have to explain it – and that’s partly on me and my anxieties and partly on the personality of the individual.

IF you come across a person who seems annoyed or aggressive because of you asking questions, chances are they’re not the person you should be asking. So don’t take that as a reflection of you, some people just don’t want that job of answering questions. That’s on them. NOT on you.

My advice to teenagers is this: Find your voice, gather your words, and practice speaking openly. No question is too wild or dumb, because that is how you learn. So one day you might help someone else in need.

I suffered low self esteem. I hated my voice. I mumbled and was quiet. I screwed up words constantly. I had to discipline myself to be okay with asking questions – to speak up. And if a lowly person such as myself can do it, you can do it too!

 

Challenge Your Mind Constantly

Push your boundaries. Be open to new experiences, new sights, new sounds.

Do you struggle with body issues? Try being nude more, just doing small everyday things like cleaning your room, listening to music. Become use to your body. Love who you are. Is there a kink you don’t like? Why? Define your answers, explore your reasoning. Is there an act that makes you uncomfortable? What is it? Why does it affect you so?

Lastly: Do not be afraid of your inner darkness. Some people, when they are confronted with their true selves, run away screaming.

But you can only run so far before you form a circle and end up face to face with your primal side, if such a thing lays dormant within you.

If it does, remember this: You’ve survived it before, you can do it again.

 

Talk To Someone If You Need To

Absolutely this. If there’s a recurring worry, if there’s a nightmare that’s woken you up, if you have a general question, consider talking to your closest friend. Consider writing to a blog writer or forum. There are many avenues you can choose to find help, it is never too late and there is never a limit to how many questions you can ask. If things are overwhelming, never ever hesitate – I cannot stress this enough.

On top of that, you can always feel free to email me if you have something to say, need advice, have a question, just need to write after a bad dream – anything.

My contact is in the ABOUT ME section of the blog.

It may feel like things are overwhelming, like there is too much information out there.

If you’re a teenager and you feel cornered and alone and just need advice, you’re not alone. I’m here to talk to, night or day. If you write in, no matter how jumbled you may feel your words will be, I’ll write back. I promise.

And if you ever feel you can’t possibly learn all these new things, remember – baby steps. One day at a time. In time, you’ll learn all you want to know.

If I can do it, you can.

 

 

 

 

Manifestation

Do you understand the power of the human mind?Do you understand the strength of that power?

We hallucinate. Our minds play tricks on us. 
When we’re tired, sometimes we conjure up manifestations that aren’t there. Conversations that never happen.
When we wake from our dream, sticky with sweat in the comforting light of day, we are safe from our minds. But at night? At night, you should take heed. Imagination is a magical, unwieldy power. 

So. You can look in my direction, safe with the knowledge you are secure from your lawn opposite the street. You can put your feet up on the couch or lay them across your partner while your babe sleeps. 
You can convince yourself you’re happy with your life, day in day out. Feed yourself, take care of yourself, feed the babe, take care of the babe.

But.

In the dead of the night. When it’s quiet. When not even the crickets will sing for you, find your anchor. Find your safe spot, your warm comfort. Find what light within you that you can.
Because if you think. If you think of me.
I will materialise before you.
Out of the dark, out of the shadows cast by the moonlight that filters in through your window, my form will appear.
And before you can turn on the light, the safe comfort, I will grab you by the ankle and drag you back within my reach. Back into the darkness. 

The more you indulge this thought path, the stronger I grow. 
The stronger I grow, the more I become self-aware. 
When that occurs, where does your original thought, your fantasy, end and my thoughts begin.  

A runaway mind would lead you to having your clothes torn completely off. 
Could you guess that your singlet top and shorties could be peeled off, curled off, torn off, across the room so easily?
Had you wondered how you might scream to your snoring partner who fell asleep on the couch downstairs? Did you wonder how you could even get out a scream? We both know you can’t raise your voice. You were never good at it. 

When you’re on your stomach, completely nude, your hair down and out across your back and past your shoulders, will this be my fantasy? Or yours?
Would my gaze, resting upon your pale bare ass, be your desire? Or mine?
Would your wet cunt, filling the bedroom with its delightful aroma, be offered to me for tribute? 

And when I pull you up to your knees and back into me….when I take your ass….is this a delicious act reserved for me, for us, in this moment? Or a product of a scrapped fantasy, something your boyfriend shows no interest in?

If you think, just for one second, you open the doorway between worlds. 

If you open the doorway between worlds, you run the risk of inviting me into your bedroom.

That power is yours. 

Happy Birthday To Me – An Erotic Story


‘Happy…birthday…to….me’
The words come out of her voice in a gut-twisting sing-song voice.

Goosebumps slither up his body like a snake coiling around its catch of the day.

He can smell her – the sickly sweet stench of arousal and cheap perfume. 

He can feel her, pressed against his ass while her hand has gripped his head.

A fistful of hair. 

She trails her hand – slimy, cold, clammy – down his back. He can feel it through her dress.

How did he get here? WHEN did he get here?

What time is it now?

All that’s there for is darkness. Darkness and the sickly smell of arousal.

The sudden pressure of her thigh against his ass knocks him something loose within him.

He can’t help but urinate. 

She doesn’t notice at first. At first, she’s too busy holding him still with her right hand while she slides her hand down into the bottom of his pants. 

It’s only when she reaches around and catches the last few drops with her palm that she giggles, speaking lowly in that sing-song voice of hers.

‘Happy…birthday…dear…Abigail…’

The woman called Abigail yanks his pants down. He can feel the coolness of the air around him.

His legs buckle. He tries to reason with her – but only stammers.

She mocks him as she slides down his back, her breasts hovering over her.

She relishes the fact that her nipples skim the surface of his back.

Now she’s on her knees, her lips opening across his cheek. He can feel them glide over him. 

She’s still singing to herself, something incomprehensible. 

He could’ve sworn she said the word Daddy.

He feels the dizziness wash over him and for a moment, the briefest of moments, he’s a child, seeing the bubbles of his cousins pool as he’s sinking down into the deep end. He’s fallen in. He’s going to drown when —
Her lips, icy, startle him back to the land of the living. She’s slipped her mouth over his cock. 

He can hear her gag, then laugh. 

It doesn’t make any sense to him. Is she gagging on purpose? For a laugh?

‘Aren’t you proud of me, Daddy?’

He tries to resist but she’s strong. She has him facing her, back against the wall. 

He can feel her tongue flick up the length of his cock. And…something else.

A door opens. 

He doesn’t want to step inside but he finds he’s floating towards her. Something – an impulse – pulsates through his cock. 

Pleasure?

No. It can’t be. 

Can it?

The woman named Abigail giggles and continues her song.

‘Happy Birthday Dear Abigail…Happy Birthday To Me!’

I end my twenties today and so I thought I’d write a stream-of-consciousness story. Apologies if it’s garbage. Let me know. 

Memoirs Of A Dominant

Next week I will be turning thirty.
And looking back on the last ten years of my life is a strange and beautiful thing.

I’ve had the gift of life given to me but also of laughter and love and yeah, even Dominance. 

When I was twenty, I didn’t know what I do now. 

You could say I was Dominant, but I was coarse and unrefined. 

I could dominate – and I did – but it wasn’t with any sort of awareness of the bigger picture. I was playing chess one square at a time rather than the whole board.

Unknowingly, I had formed D/s relationships but neither me nor the lady I was with knew that. All I knew was that I had gone from being a loner to suddenly an attractive man – well, in the eyes of others anyway. At 20 I was insecure with myself in a way that I’m not now. 

My twenties were spent outside of anything BDSM related. There were flickers of it: The degradation that came out in my teens also came out in the bedroom. But I didn’t know terms, dynamics, things I wanted. I was coarse and unrefined and in a strictly vanilla relationship. 

It was around the time of my mid-twenties when something inside me awoke. Suddenly I wanted to learn. 

I was afraid to learn – there were times in the middle of the night where I woke from a dream to an ache I had ignored due to some of that catholic guilt I was raised with coming out – but I still had that desire. 

My long-term girlfriend at the time was not interested in the slightest. Not even after me trying to introduce to her some things I wanted to try. We simply were not compatible, though we hung onto each other long anyway.
Her dismissal led me to blogs and sites and that’s where I discovered Fetlife. That’s where I discovered apps like Whisper.

Suddenly I was finding that education I was so scared about. I deleted and signed up to Fetlife numerous times before I created the profile that exists today. 

Through whisper, I met a bubbly young lady. She was eighteen. I was 26 at the time. 
Blonde hair, blue eyes, piercings over her face and nipples. 
I did not have an affair with her, if that’s what you’re thinking. As I write this now, I can see that this was the origin of my Daddy side. 

You see, she came from a broken home. She was constantly in a state of distress. And over the weeks, we would talk and I would help in any way I can – because…well, because she felt like a little sister to me. 

The universe is a strange thing. It brings people together, it pulls people apart. And I guess, in that time, the universe gave me someone to talk to who was just as much seeking answers as I was. 

We would talk about our interests, mainly though, we would talk shit. And it was pleasant. 

I don’t know where she is now, but looking back, I think that was instrumental in forging my Daddy side. My caring side. My nurture side. 

EVENTUALLY my long term relationship with my girlfriend fell apart. We stopped being friends, we hung out in different rooms after work. We simply weren’t compatible. 

At the time, I wanted to fight. I felt that was what I wanted to do – fight for her. But when she showed no interest in fighting back, I decided to drop my compulsion to fix things or solve things and just…let her go. 

In the months after, I sought to explore myself. I moved in with my parents for a while, Iogged back into Fetlife. I took nude selfies despite my lingering guilt post-relationship. I wrote songs too. Really on-the-nose songs, with titles like ‘Penultimate’ and ‘Signposts’. It was my way to heal.

Through Fetlife – through people, really – I learnt what I was once too scared to learn. I spoke to women I befriended. Some I was drawn to on a really primal level. They helped point out what I was feeling. 

I had plenty of fascinating conversations about minds and life just staying in the intimate space of my childhood bedroom. In a lot of ways I was doing a loop, folding over back into my childhood town. Adulthood is weird.

But I learned I was a primal. I learned I was a Daddy. I had a six hour edging session – and I’m not exaggerating to prove something, I spent the majority of that day in bed pushing my limits. I was done crying, I was going to edge damnit. 

So you see, life is strange. Why we don’t accept our minds and our sexuality is stranger. I could lament and wonder why it wasn’t sooner that I had this life affirming epiphany, but you can’t go back. Only forward. 

If you have any questions regarding this post, always feel free to write me at my email. I’m more than happy to help you with your own journey.  

The Primal Aspect in Me

Sometimes I feel like I could tear out the jugular of any man that hits on my lady. On what’s mine.

Sometimes there is a flash behind my eyes – and I can see an alternate reality where I have taken a baseball bat to the creeper’s grim grinning face. 

I’m not a violent man. I don’t like confrontations. I know this is just the primal aspect in me. The animal part that protects his property. But I have the thought all the same. 

And maybe that’s just a product of the human mind. Cats knead their favourite bedding material because of their ancestors, maybe my need to defend and protect my lady from discomfort is because of my ancestors and their violent ways. 

OR it’s just 2-32am and I’m thinking way too much into things. And I’m just a dastardly violent and handsome man. 

I told my kitten my thoughts on this and she smiled shyly. It was the smile that says ‘I can’t find the words to express my thoughts on that, so I’ll smile’. She’s always been that way, shy at expressing her desire and interest in me. I’m the same. My mother was terribly shy and I get it from her.

In the end, there is a freedom to learning the behavioural aspects of the primal mindset. There’s beauty there, raw and unfiltered. 
I have been researching and pursuing it since I started out in this lifestyle and am still learning.