How Can You Tell If You’re Dominant Or Submissive?

Ladies and gents, I’m kinda stumped.

Early in the week, I was talking to a lady about how to implement kink into her marriage with her husband, when she ran a question by me – How do you know if you’re Dominant?

I answered that question best I could in the moment, running my own experiences with identifying the feeling by her, hoping it would connect somehow. But now, days later, I’m still thinking it over. I don’t really know HOW. It all seems so organic looking back.

I have also recently had someone ask me If they’re still fully submissive if they enjoy being bratty – there’s a lot of misunderstanding about the persona and how it applies to the individual.

Unfortunately, there’s a lot of confused and alone people out there with a laundry list of questions and no one to ask. I’m more than happy to answer anything anyone has to ask, be you male, female, teenager, adult, new to the lifestyle or in the middle of a transformation or even someone with an inkling of kinkling.

Anyway, I thought I would try to the answer the question at length, hoping newcomers to BDSM might relate and it can help them in their own journey.

In the beginning, I had these feelings that I had understanding of. I didn’t know I could file my name calling under ‘Degradation and Humiliation’ nor did I understand why I was so interested in control – in exercising authority over my girlfriend. In these stages, there was no real sense of D/s and aftercare because I was immature and these feelings were immature and coarse and unrefined.

Before I continue, let me just write that there’s no absolute way for one person. Everyone is different and works differently.

I should say that my own development has come with a certain degree of blind luck. I met certain people at the right time in my life, people like me, through Fetlife or the semi-sketchy anonymous confessional app Whisper. I was a lucky bastard. I had the blessing of shaping who I was through encounters along my twenties.

Fetlife was a big player in my path, I would say. By signing up and looking around, I could see I wasn’t alone. I could even put a name to my kinks and thus have some semblance of understanding.

Google helped too, in a way, acting as a gateway to all sorts of media – books, images, blogs, people, Kink. Suddenly I knew of words like ‘Dominance’ and ‘submission’ and ‘dynamic’. Combine this with Fetlife and I had opportunities to feel the gravitational force to someone who was submissive. I’m talking, heart racing, cock hardening, breath quickening gravitational forces that helped me realise something was within me.

I know what you’re wondering. ‘Okay, but how does someone know if they’re dominant? Or even submissive?’

The best advice I can give is that it starts with an idea. Have a google of key concepts that come to mind when you think of BDSM – blindfolding, handcuffs, dirty talk. Start small. See if something strikes up your fancy.

If you want to reach deeper, have a look at concepts within a D/s relationship, such as setting tasks and rules and maintaining order. See if any of these concepts appeal to you on a base level. Try not to feel overwhelmed by the sheer volume of information – there can be a lot to learn but you can easily break it up into easily digestible parts.

Start small. Start light. A bit of spanking, a bit of issuing commands – talk to your partner about what they would like to try and see if it strikes a chord with you on any level.

The last advice I can give is to be open to yourself and to your partner. That goes for likes and dislikes and even if you’re uninterested. But always be open to trying at least. You never know what you’ll find on the road less travelled.

30 Days of Kink – Day #1: Me, Myself & I

It has been three years since I last did this 30 Days of Kink questionnaire. I’ve been thinking about doing it again for some time, mainly because I sense I’ve grown so much – I sense it in myself. But I’ve put it off for a few reasons – one, because I felt cheap to do a retread, and two – because I honestly don’t know how much interest it would garner for the current list of readers.

I’m putting myself out there, hoping it is warmly received. That being said, in the interest of being honest, I will state that I haven’t read my previous answers to these thirty questions that I wrote down back in 2015 when I was 27, so I’m going in with a completely fresh mind.

I hope you join me.

Dominant, submissive or switch? List the parts of BDSM that get your juices flowing, what interests you the most? Basically define your kinky nature.

I’m a Dominant man that hails from the land of Oz! But within the dominant frame of mind, I’ve found that I identify with other aspects, such as a Master, a Daddy and a primal.

I think the thing that gets my juices flowing the most is that psychological component of the interaction, sexually but especially non-sexually. By psychological component, I mean the little details that bring out expressions in people. For me, these expressions include a change in posture, a change in demeanour. Little shifts in voice and outward appearances that are not noticeable to me but are to my kitten.

To me, it’s like I’m witnessing this transformation of someone, this very special part that they choose to show to me. And it can manifest in the eyes, the voice and in the mind.

I find these details within us, these sides of our personality, to be incredibly delicious – and also incredibly delightful to meet. I could talk with a submissive mind all night, I’m that invested in hearing differences of opinion. The more different to mine, the better.

Beyond that, I’ve found that there needs to be a level of control in my life – and this goes beyond mere sexual gratification, although there is that wonderful part – but there’s something about ownership and leadership and protocol and structure in a D/s dynamic that brings absolute joy to my life. It brings peace. It’s a very spiritual and important thing to me.

That being said, I’ve noticed different sides of my personality since I began my journey that have ignited passion and imagination in my mind. I’ve found I have a side of me with Master tendencies, that either comes out in stories or fantasies. I’m drawn to that Master / Slave mindset, finding peace within the dynamic of law and order and protocol and training and obedience.

On the other side of the coin, I’m a Daddy. I have this insatiable desire to help those in need, either friends of friends or friends in general and my kitten. I have this strangest sensation like I’m some sort of Dad to my kitten at times, or that I feel like one – it’s the weirdest sensation to put down into words.

It’s partially why I offer Mentoring, because sometimes I face such an ache in my heart when I hear the frustration of someone who writes in, and I can’t bear that pain in others.

I’m a big kid at heart, I love reading to people – Lewis Carrol, Dr. Suess – and I love animation, so Disney marathons are a must in my household. You’ll even catch me singing them too.

Lastly, I’m a primal. That was my gateway to kink even when I didn’t know it. Exhibitionism, nudity, speaking freely – I had been shy and repressed for so long that it became a practice to not reject any thoughts that came to mind. It also helps alleviate my anxiety, if that makes sense.

If you’ve made it this far, and I certainly hope you have, I hope you’ve enjoyed the read and if you have any questions regarding any of the above, by all means, pick my mind. I welcome the discussion.

And if you’re new to this 30 Days of… – try it yourself. I’d love to hear from you!

The Word ‘Girl’ (Musing Why I React To It So)

I don’t know what it is about the word ‘girl’ that ignites my senses.

I don’t mean it quite literally, for clarification, I mean it in terms of D/s or how I or my lady refers to her as.

This thought came to me last night. I had headed to bed – I’m a night owl because I can afford to be, she’s an early bird – and she happened to be awake so like any midnight times, we had a chat together. It’s how we roll. And we started talking about cards – as in, playing cards – and she said ‘oh I’m just a blackjack and roulette girl’

Now, see, that was just slang. Like if I were to say, ‘I’m a metal guy’ if someone enquired about my musical tastes. But the word ‘girl’ – right then and there – sparked something in my mind. Not arousal, something bigger than that. Something that put my Dominant senses on high alert. And I don’t really know why.

So why is it a trigger word? Maybe it’s because it’s used so often by us – when she talks as taught by me, when I address her myself. Maybe it’s because I identify as a Daddy.

MAYBE it’s something that triggers my Daddy side because, for whatever reason, due to my lack of children, there’s some paternal instinct out there, the very thing that drives me to put it out there that I’m happy to mentor someone if or when they trust me enough. I’m not sure, I’m no psychologist or scientist, I’m just guessing maybe my biological instincts comes into play somehow.

The word ‘girl’ is interesting in a D/s context in the way it has a life of its own, how it suddenly has subtext and can imply something particular to the individual. For me, I think of a teenager. Dyed hair, pink wooden Pyjamas, black band hoodie – all very specific right? But specific to me, to my lady.

‘Girl’ makes me think of a teenager unsure – about her future, about her own desires, about her own strength. This probably says more about my teenage years and the company I kept, for I have no doubt there were strong minds at my own highschool, just as I have no doubt my lady was as fierce, sharp, intelligent and determined then as she is now. And this I know too, as – keep in mind, we met all those years ago, years before life would bring us back together this way.

The word ‘girl’ doesn’t make me think of an individual needing help or nurture or security but at the same time, something compels me to be a Daddy all the same. Why, and for what purpose? I don’t know.

How I Knew I Was A Daddy Dominant

When talking about my feelings as someone who identifies as a Daddy, the one question that usually comes up first is – How did you know you were a Daddy-type?

I tell these people but I’ve told you guys and gals, probably time and time before, but the other day, it really hit me. Like, smacked-in-the-face-here’s-your-epiphany levels of realisation.

I felt I was a Daddy-type the evening I looked into the eyes of my kitten on a particularly anxious evening for her, her eyes wide and terrified. Looking at her, I knew in that moment, I felt in that moment this grand desire to wrap my arms around her and pull into our little created realm of security. And that I would fight for her own restoration of balance until I was exhausted – and then, even more.

I understood in that moment, you see. And looking back, I wonder just how this memory escaped me if it was so pivotal. Maybe in all the un-organised thoughts in my brain, it sat waiting to be processed. Maybe I forgot, not a strange occurrence with me. I have the unfortunate ability of forgetting birthdays, appointments and other moments.

Maybe I just felt it then, put it on a pedestal to place in my snow globe of memories, but forgot to file it under Relationship. I can’t say.

Acting and feeling as a Daddy has long been gestating within me. It was with me there roughly as a teen, when I was writing about and acting out Incest related fantasies and roleplay. It was there when I understood that the dynamic wasn’t simply about incest at all, it was about the way two souls engage and respond and react to one another. It was there when I reached out to my lady’s friends when I could sense their sadness, just to see if I could help, even though I knew it would potentially label me as weird or could cross unforeseen boundaries. It was even there when, in my travels as a twenty-something lad, I came across a teenager who tried flirting with me. I stopped her and talked to her and found out so much more – her home life was hectic, her future was troubling her. I happen to be there for the reaction to all this. And I wanted to shed light on this.

I guess it’s always been with me, developing with me and within me, maturing with me and even maturing ME. Like I’m the host and it’s this is some symbiotic relationship.

I’ve had strange thoughts at times. Fleeting thoughts. Through some strong bonds, I’ve come to regard friends as a sister or a brother. In rare cases, such as with my lady, I’ve felt the need to talk to her as a Dad, as she were my little girl.

I wonder if it’s a biological thing? I don’t have any children. We don’t plan to. So maybe this is nature’s way of stepping forth and making up for any absence of that role within me. I don’t know. I’m not sure.

To the man or woman wondering where they lie in the grand scheme of things, if they wonder if they feel themselves moving towards baby girl or Daddy, know this: Don’t feel shame. Don’t feel fear. There is nothing wrong with you, or your thoughts or your desires or your dreams or your fantasies. Don’t let the fear stop your own progress or education into what it means and certainly don’t give up. You’ve got what it takes.

If you need to talk, I’m an email away!

Balancing The Scales: On Anxiety and Giving Guidance

When it comes to helping people, there’s always this part of my mind that jumps to feeling guilty about it. And at the same time that I know why I feel guilty, I don’t really know why I know why I feel guilty.

I recognise it though, this feeling of imposing, of bugging, of intruding. I know it comes from a lack of self confidence. Which comes from my teenage years, of being soft spoken, of having a quiet voice and of doubting each word that comes out of your mouth.

I’ve been anxious before I knew what anxiety really was and could create. And maybe that’s always been with me, and IS with me as I stumble along in the dark.

I offer my help – to readers here, because of my own struggles in my journeys. But when I do so, I’m hit with a wave of questions, more noticeably one that asks – why is this so important to you?

I’ve wrote about this before, this Daddy-esque feeling, this overwhelming desire to console and guide where help or guidance is needed. And it doesn’t just stop at BDSM and the lifestyle, it extends to any issue. It extends to friends. To friends of friends. To strangers. To family.

I’ve written to my lady’s friends when I sense a troubled mind in their posts. And I can’t help it. You better believe I fight it. I don’t want to sound like I’m preying on a vulnerable time, I don’t want to sound or feel like a creep – yet I’m driven forward by this need to offer help.

I don’t offer it aggressively. Or repeatedly. I mean, I do here but that’s only because I sometimes want to reach out to new followers because I sometimes receive a private message in which the person states they’ve been working up the courage to write to me – and I don’t know why, because I’m the friendly neighbourhood teddy bear.

But I offer help gently. Once, and then I’m gone. The old me would’ve obsessed with stressing it’s okay to write to me but now I know best to leave it to the individual. They will if they want.

So: I don’t know why I feel like I’d be intruding. Maybe it’s just residual anxious thoughts best left to throw out with the trash. Maybe it’s more important – a defect in my mind? I’m all for a balance and if I have a need to help and guide, what’s on the other scale?

All I know is I can be driven by a need to help anyone either from this blog or otherwise. It’s my honour. And sometimes I feel bad about that.

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.  

Have I become the overbearing Father Figure?

You know the one. The one that continually expresses concern, long after the person says, perhaps with an eye roll, ‘Dad, I’m fine’.

Maybe, in the absence of not having children, my mind, the part that is biologically ready to break out into fatherhood, was just assimilated by my Daddy Dominant state of mind.

If you’re wondering if I’ve gone mad, you’re probably not wrong. But the psychological state of affairs when it comes to BDSM and the relationship it has with my mind will fascinate me endlessly.

If I had to analyse right here right now, I would say my personality, the one that got the rug pulled out from under him in regards to how people can deceive or manipulate, the one that developed an anxiety disorder, now lays everything out on the table with people. I’m honest because I expect that in return. How they respond is their choice – but me? I want to be pure. I don’t want deceit or manipulation or fear.

And the older I get, and the more confident or used to who I am and my place in the world, my personality has kind of matured into this Father Figure. And BECAUSE of what I experienced through friendship and relationships, I’m overbearing in my caring.

It happens with my lady – I’ll send her to bed if I notice her eyes falling out of her head. It happens to my friend, when I ask if she’s happy where she is in life. And it happens to people who write in sometimes, where I try to create as safe a place as possible for them to feel at ease if they want to ask what they feel is a silly question. 

Not everybody wants to chat in a prolonged state, sure. But more often then not, I can sense when there’s a sentence on the tip of someone’s tongue and they either don’t want to burden me – this stranger – or they feel – well, pick one. Silly. Strange. Ashamed. Pathetic.

So now I try to combat that, albeit gently, by creating a safe space to each and every one. And if that’s annoying, I’ll take the blame of being this overbearing, slightly strict father figure or Daddy Dominant.

Just know I’m aware of this aspect and ease it when I sense it! After all, who wants a lame Dad?

The Misconception Of The Daddy Dom & little girl.

Whenever I mention the dynamic of a Daddy Dom and a little girl to a newcomer who is asking me about where they fit into the lifestyle, I can often sense their awkwardness and hesitation.

Mostly it comes up if I sense this man has some Daddy traits in him, or whether the woman is a bit of a baby girl. To me, that kind of comes out. I just have this weird gut feeling.

The thing that usually comes up first is: Is it an incestuous thing?

 The answer is no. While it sure is named Daddy / little girl, it really is just a symbol of the type of relationship a couple has.

The man adopts a Daddy-like persona. The best way I can describe this, from personal experiences, is that it’s a deep, maybe even a deep rooted desire to nurture, much like a Dad would to a child.

While incest can certainly be part of the roleplay, and this really depends on couple’s preferences, The dynamic is really about these deep sensations and characteristics coming out in the person themselves.

Of course a Daddy needs that stabilisation – and this bring us to the little girl.
While you’re better off asking a female about the inner workings of her mind here, I will explain from a male’s perspective for some balance here.

Let’s start with a story. It’ll be quick, I promise.

I was laying in bed one night awake when kitten got up to go to the toilet. When she came back, she grumbled some incoherently, probably still foggy with sleep.
What’s wrong, I asked her. And I roll over to look.
She’s searching the bed for her toy kangaroo, which she sleeps with and which probably knocked away when getting out of bed. The toy kangaroo I gave to her as a gift because it was mine when I was 2 years old.

The little girl is the innocence still floating around in that mind of yours. It’s a mindset to be child-like, as if being possessed by your younger self. It’s the best way I can describe it. Which, I know, it’s shit. But this is what I see in my kitten, who likes me to read to her before bed, who snuggles my childhood toy, who likes to colour for me.

It’s these little aspects that compliment my Daddy, who needs that sort of child-like quality to fulfil the ever-hungry desire to nurture and grow.

Let me tell another story.

One of kitten’s friends from school posted something on Facebook and — I couldn’t help myself. As the creep I am, I messaged this person I’ve met twice and asked her if everything was okay, because I just had this sense that something wasn’t.

I was right, and I won’t let that go to my head, and we talked about what upset her. I told her it was okay, that if she ever needed to chat, I was here.

I mean, all the while my brain is like:

Fool you sound like a creep leave her alone you weirdo

But I was driven by this desire to reassure. Was I misguided? I mean, maybe? She probably won’t take me up on the offer, though I still hold hope just to prove my inbuilt negativity wrong, but the point was that the Daddy came out in me. I wanted to shield and protect, as if this friend was my own daughter. And that’s weird as fuck but, I don’t know. It’s just what it is.
I mean, she thanked me in the end, told me I was amazing – but he point is, I was doing it to nurture.

Tangent aside, that’s what the mindset is like for me. It’s why I identify as a Daddy Dom, or a Dom with Daddy traits.

Some people aren’t into the dynamic, because they think of their parents. There’s a hurdle to jump over that they’re not sure about. And that’s fine, it’s not for everyone. But that kind of thinking should be looked at from at a different perspective – there’s a richness in the dynamic that might intrigue you from a different outlook.

 

 

Being A Daddy Dom isn’t about age.


Browsing Fetlife, I came across a post from a young woman who expressed her frustration at the fact that she had experienced a few Daddy Dom-types harassing her over her disinterest in them due to their age being closer to that of her father.

Their argument was you wouldn’t find a young Daddy Dom that was within her age gap (she was 26 wanting someone up to ten years older than her). 
She asked people if they thought she was unreasonable. Everyone agreed she was not, yet most, rather politely, echoed the sentiment that it would be tough to find that going Daddy Dom.
That simply isn’t true.
Yes, it’s hard for someone to find anyone over the Internet, especially regarding love and kink. It can be very hard. But young Daddy’s are a thing indeed. 

The Daddy Dom, from my understanding, comes deep down and psychologically. And since its paternal, it can come from anyone at any time, so long as we imprint on the person we care about.
This has happened with kitten and it has happened with friends, where I become so protective and nurturing that it’s almost – yeah you guessed it – Dad-like. A few people have commented on it too, like ‘Wow, such a Dad’ or ‘you’d be a great dad!’. 
And I’m 29. I’m hoping that’s still considered young, ha!
The point I’m making is that it’s a mindset. It’s not reflective of age. It shouldn’t be. If you care, if you have a desire to nurture, protect, if there’s a love there that draws you in, almost magnetically – guess what? You’ve got it within you. 
Keep in mind, this is the best way I can describe it. The need to shelter, to bear hug, to make sure you’re their world and nothing bad is ever going to get to them. Not as long as you’re there. 
What are your thoughts on it?

12 Days of BDSM Christmas 2016 – Day #3: The Voice In The Darkness

 

56b9c266b16bc8d43e170d6934874f2d.jpg

The first thing she noticed about the blog was that it had a pull over her.
She had read many blogs lately, some came and went, others were very informative – but this….this was something else.
There was a pull about this one, something that made her feel as if she was gravitating towards something larger than her, larger than the world around her.
In an entire sitting, she devoured this blog. Devoured it while she sat in her room, alone and nude, propped up on one shoulder while stretching her right nipple slightly to dull the building ache.
She read the entire blog – every article, every story, everything from journals to little comments after the journals.
Spent, she collapsed into a deep sleep, leaving the real world behind in a blur.

She awoke in a daze. Something was knocking at her bedroom door. It came in three loud waves. One….two……three.
She climbed out of bed, dazed and confused, one arm shielding her breasts.
By the time she opened the door, she was wondering why she didn’t put pants on at least. What if it was an emergency? A break in? Why would the burglars knock? She was still sleep drunk.
When she opened the door, she flicked on the light of the bedroom. It lit up her apartment hallway. Nothing was there.
Maybe it was a dream, thought She, and she flicked the light off, closed the door and crawled back into bed. Back into the sea of dreams.

Dreams are funny things. How they shift and change, how the duration of one feels like it can last a lifetime.
She dreamt a man was chasing her, whose features she could not describe, for they were shielded in darkness.
Her dream would be normal, she’d be at her family for Christmas Dinner and she’d go to the toilet. But then the toilet window would open and elongated legs would slip through, revealing a tall gaunt man. Handsome and yet she couldn’t quite see all of him. All of his body or all of his face.
“Let me in” Came a voice, a growl, from somewhere around the toilet and she would panic and leave the toilet.

 For the duration of this dream, the scenery would change but the situation would end up the same. She was celebrating Christmas, she needed to go to the toilet but the man would appear. Sometimes through the window, sometimes before her, looking at her and how her panties lay twisted and crumpled at her feet while she tried to urinate.

“Let me in” would come the voice, hoarse, unrecognizable.

She came to in a start. Jerking, as if she fell through the bathroom floor.
The time on her clock read 3:09am.
Another twitch washed over her body and then she urinated. Her body muscles gave way, gave in to the relief, the deliciousness. She found herself paralysed with sleep, but also with relief, as she felt her sheets becoming warm and wet.
And that’s when she felt the bed sink, as something else carried its weight over to.
She sat up in fear but the dark shape that was forming at the foot of her bed held her down by her neck.
Her vision was forced to the ceiling as she felt something like smoke wash over thighs.
Then something formed, she felt cheeks. She felt a nose.
A tongue, hot and wet, slid up her urine soaked cunt, from her ass to the top of her slit. And she quivered.
A noise came out of her, a moan crossed with a scream, as the tongue left no corner of her cunt untouched.
Her head seemed to sink back into the pillow, beyond the material, and she fell between worlds.

It was Christmas all of a sudden. And she was upstairs, looking through her bag for photos of her recent holiday to Disneyland to show her family.
Except something had gone wrong. There was a man, somehow, that had convinced her that she should undress.
She lay with her bedroom door open, her breasts exposed, her dress hitched up and her Mickey Mouse panties pulled aside, as the man was sucking on her clit.
She knew she had to be quiet, because her father was up stairs as well, asleep.
She could hear the man rifling through her bag and suddenly she felt lace skim across her belly, across her arms and before she could compose her thoughts further, this man was stuffing her panties into her mouth.
She choked on her own scent, could taste it vividly.
“All you have to do is let me in” came the voice, hoarse and frightening.
Shame washed over her as pleasure built up in her cunt. She enjoyed the taste of herself, despite an uneasy fear in the back of her mind.
When her boyfriend stepped through the doorway, she couldn’t stop moving. She couldn’t stop squirming her cunt into the man’s mouth. Every lick from his tongue felt ridiculous.

She awoke feeling like a weight was crushing her. Her hands were held down while something hot and wet slid her nipple into its mouth.
“You’ve started to open the door now, you can’t get rid of me.”
She tried to form words but just a gasp of ait came out, a squeak. She was utterly powerless.
“I can show you how to live deliciously…”

She was lying in a room of blinding light. She came to realise she was naked.
Cicadas were humming loudly outside and she realised she was back at her parents during Christmas.
“You slept a long while” came a voice she recognised instantly.
“Daddy?” She said, suddenly feeling the need to cover herself.
Except he was already beside her, pressed into her. She could feel his cock skimming against her ass as he lay behind her.
He stopped her from pulling the sheet over herself.
“Have you ever had a dream where you are fucking a family member?” He said, musing.
She shook her head, denying it. It was wrong.
“People don’t want to admit to that. But it comes out, you know. I always bring out what people want.”
As her Daddy said this, he tugged on her nipples.
It had been some time since someone stretched them to breaking point and now her Daddy was doing so.
She squeaked out a response, frozen in place.
“I trust you remember the time you peeped through the keyhole of the shower. Curiosity was it?”
She shook her head as she felt her Daddy’s cock stiffening.
“Was it?”
He tugged on her nipple harder, twisting it. The pain was immense.
“Kids are curious I suppose, but then you never lost it as an adult”
On the word ‘Adult’, he squeezed and she leapt out of bed.
Time seemed to stutter. Her Daddy’s cock was in her mouth, warm and salty, with the faintest taste of sweat. She felt like gagging but also the need to fulfil her daughterly duty. As if she could be herself in this…

 “What you don’t understand is that I see you for who you are”
The voice in the darkness was smooth, velvety.
It came out like a whisper. Maybe you know the sensation, when you swallow a piece of sweet dark chocolate, or a sip of your favourite alcohol. It goes down smooth, gentle, easing, like the voice. But there’s a promise of.
She was on her stomach, her ass propped up in the air.
“Now Let. Me. In.”

She had always wondered about her co-worker’s sexuality.
But when she invited her over for Christmas drinks, she knew, for certain.
When her co-worker took off her coat and revealed her low cut dress beneath, there was a vibe, resounding and strong.
When the two were sitting on the couch, her co-worker had asked her, “What is it you want? What else lies hidden deep in your mind?”
She felt her cunt tighten and contract, hoping against hope that she would undress.
The stutter of the dream world skipped and her co-worker was sitting on her lap, kissing her face, her neck.
She didn’t resist even though she had a boyfriend that took care of her every need. She was, after all, bisexual, and it had been sometime since she had felt that touch.
The woman made their way to the bedroom, tearing off their clothes.
Fuck, she had never seen a more beautiful woman. It’s like this dream made her realise just how hot for her, she really was.
Her co-worker knelt above her, her small breasts kissed by freckles all around.
She wrinkled her nose and smiled down at her, before lowering her mouth on her cunt.

 Her cunt tightened as she came, overwhelming emotion smacked her across the face, traveling down her thighs. The dark hand that had been rubbing her slit did not cease movement and she screamed, wondering if it made a difference at all to anyone outside of her house.
She came again. And again, the sensitivity building up within her until she was squirting across the bed in thick short bursts.
When the hand finally withdraws, she collapsed in her soaking sheets, panting and sobbing.
That’s when she felt hot breath over her ears.
“You invited me in, I came. Now…I own you. I live here.”
Something tugged on her hair and pain shot through her entire weakened body.
“I will call again, when you least expect it. And do not deny me”
And then the dark velvety voice was gone, leaving her to the silence.
She sobbed.

 

 

Author’s Notes

This story is part supernatural / part psychology of dreams. What are your dreams of a sexual nature like? What do they say about you? I mean, to a lesser extent that is what I am writing about.
This piece is primarily about how writing can infect your mind and your subconscious, mixed with my fascination with horror of course. The lead character is tormented by an entity, forced to urinate and undergo a series of too-real sensations involving perversions in her life, regarding her dad and co worker.
What I wanted to do with this piece was arouse first and foremost but I also hope I’ve had some dwell on their naughty dreams and the significance behind them. Maybe, just maybe, there’s a truth for you to discover that could very well lead to an epiphany!

-TD&D