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. 

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. 

Playing With Fire: A Daddy Dom Ramble


I’ve had a few drafts of what I want to say. I can’t figure out how to be precise with my words here. So expect some free form stream of consciousness.
I watched this show where a teenage girl was hovering her hand over an open flame, admittedly been through a lot, not to mention being a teenager in the first place. And my mind jumped to so many different tangents with the image. Experimenting with pain, sexual

Identity. Guidance. 
It kicked off this whole train of thought that is current doing the round. Which led me to writing it down here. 
I’m a Daddy. This much is true, whether it’s sexual or instinctive. Or darker. 

And I’m of two minds – one half trying to comfort this teenage girl while the other half helping her to experiment. Because experimentation, under watch, can be rewarding. So maybe my hand on hers, feeling the slight burn. No going back. Showing her that there is this whole side of things that you can practice as a form of therapy, if controlled in a healthy environment. 
And I’m not too sure why. 

I often wrestle with my animalistic impulses. I’ll shy away from the absurd because a handful of people understand and the rest don’t. 
I think the reason why this show has sparked feeling with me is partly because I was that experimental teen, dealing with pain – unhealthily at first. So when I see a teenager, male or female, struggling, I become that surrogate Daddy. Whether they like it or not. Because I can’t help it. And because my heart is too deep, or so they tell me. 
When I was first fully exploring my Dominant side, I met a teenage girl through Whisper going through a really rough time. I was 26 at the time. And she was flirtatious and sent nudes randomly. And I understood why. Or partly understood. 

I didn’t act. I didn’t want to. She was certainly attractive. Legal, if you’re mind is going there. But I could feel she was trying to justify something, her worth, herself, anything. And so I talked to her, told her politely as I could that the nude photo wasn’t necessary. 
And I don’t know why or how I came to it, but I saw her as a little sister. And whenever she texted me to vent, I would listen. Whenever she called, I would listen. 
And eventually, she stopped calling. We stopped talking, I didn’t bother her. I get it into my head I’m annoying – and a part of me felt guilty about the fact that I was even talking to her, because age. 
And age is weird. When my kitten was 16-17, I was 21. And I wouldn’t dream of dating her then….but now, it’s okay. Our minds are weird. Human, I guess. 
So when I see a teen or hear of a teen struggling, I see myself. I’m instantly transported to my days of discovery. And I guess that sparks on a transformation into a Daddy.
And I’m writing this all out because I feel like it needs to be said. I feel like there’s this sort of creep factor or age barrier that comes with the Daddy Dominant that misconstrues meaning. And I feel, a lot of the time, there’s a younger audience to my blog that needs to talk about something to a random who doesn’t know their friends or family. Who needs to hear they’re okay to experiment. 
Just like sometimes I need someone to tell me: it’s okay to feel like this. It’s an instinctual thing. You’re not a fucking creep. Even though, through writing this, I kinda feel like I am, you know?
So: the image of this girl testing the flame. It made me think of myself, it made me want to guide her, tell her things are okay. It made me want to walk the path with he while she opens the doors to discovery and sexual identity. 
This may be an 18+ blog, with mature themes, but I’d never turn anyone under 18 away. Because that person was once me. 

30 Days of Dominance – Day #2: What qualities of a submissive do you enjoy?


Day 2 – Describe what you are looking for in a submissive and the techniques you might use to instill those characteristics in your submissive. Are you exclusively Dominant in marriage or just in the bedroom? Are you Dominant only in the context of a scene or in a role or throughout your daily life? Are you Dominant to play partners or only in the context of a relationship?
Its complex to describe what I’m looking for in a submissive because there’s so much to mention. 
I feel like I am drawn to baby girl, slave, pet types and these are the types that speak to me and what drives me. But in saying that, I also like feisty, strong ladies as well. People that will stand their ground if I’m wrong and put in a fight when I wrestle with them. Because I want to feel like I earn their submission. I earned it with my kitty and I felt quite complete and I think our relationship is all the stronger for it. 

As for instilling techniques into my submissive, I would teach her the etiquettes that I would like in her, such as personal grooming, dressing her daily, for work and for social / around the house.  
These ‘techniques’ would include asking if she can be excused in my presence, to get a drink, to go to the toilet. Setting tasks like journaling, masturbating for me, doing other such chores for me.

Every morning she is to take a picture of herself for me and say good morning either in text, if we are both working, or person. 

Sometimes I’ll her her to write my name on herself, like on her thighs. 

I’m regards to my relationship with my kitten, I am Dominant in and out of the bedroom. I have authority in what she does, such is my blessing. I honestly don’t think I could live without the dynamic so this becomes a daily thing. Living without it, I wouldn’t thrive, is probably lose that magic that I feel. It’s a thing of balance for me, a need to satisfy my darkness and my desire to be with someone in that capacity.
Speaking of such, I’m not one to have play partners. I like to be in a relationship, I think I am in my element there, where I can be in control. It’s a strange relationship between myself and my romantic relationship but it is what is. 

What Does It Mean To Be Dominant?


What does it mean to be Dominant? 
Being Dominant, to me, means to live with this insatiable desire to take control – of a scenario, of a submissive. It means to crave something deeper on a psychological level, on a raw level. A human connection, bonded by a unique level of trust, a love for kink and a desire to explore what makes us human. What makes us tick.
You see, it’s craving control of a submissive – but that means so many things. I crave to guide, to teach, to be a dad, to see her dress how I want, to fuck how I want, to care for her in my way. It means being a teacher, a lover, a friend, a father and soul mate.
It’s not just about a love for spanking, degradation, nipple clamps and bondage. It’s about the desire to know the submissive in a way that no one has ever known before. Think about what means for a moment – to explore what makes her human, what makes her a submissive, what makes her WANT. 
It’s about reaching deep down within her psyche, finding what that means or how that feels, and absorbing her. Every part of her mind, body and spirit. 
It’s about taking all of that and protecting it, like a knight, one that, in my case, definitely has chinks from my battles with my demons. 
And just so I’m clear, it’s not about seeing a submissive purely as an object. Not for me. I want to express, in my eyes, that the lifestyle comes with a romanticism there. Not only the desire to protect her but the desire to know her beyond any capacity she or I have experienced. I have great affection for the basic notion that is worshipping her, guiding her, protecting her and to fulfil her through my Dominant personality. 
It’s not about being an alpha. I’m not an alpha, I don’t feel like an alpha. To society, I’m you’re quiet guy, guarded and silent. I don’t dominate conversations, I don’t lead at work. I lead her. By the leash, by the collar.
I don’t want a regular relationship, I want the deeper feelings, the raw and intense encounters, the exposure for me and her that comes with that trust. 
I guess what I’m trying to say is that what being dominant means for me is to explore my humanity. To explore why I am the way I am, but also to live with the lifestyle, almost in a symbiotic relationship, because it needs me and I need it. Without it, I’m edgy. I’m lost, I’m angry and depressed. With it, I have balance. Harmony.