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.

Thank You For Your Company

For those of you out there that have heard my interview as part of the Darker Side Of Spice event, I just want to thank you for coming along and supporting some positivity and good will in the community.

I’m just a regular garden-variety guy working on a little BDSM blog in my own corner of the world, so opening my blog or my twitter or even tumblr and finding people visiting – most from Australia and New Zealand, Which is cool – I love the idea that there’s people so close to home out there reading – is a touching thing, especially when a lot of the time when I write, I’m always sure that this dark fantasy is going to be THE ONE that makes people re-evaluate their opinion of me.

And yet…through weird sea creatures and possessive shadow, through my strangest erotic nightmares, people are still here. Knowing that maybe my darker thoughts give solace to someone out there and makes them feel less alone is a beautiful, beautiful thing.

Knowing that I can help iron out a thought in someone’s mind or relationship or personal growth – to be a part of that, is so touching in ways I can’t even begin to express.

So thank you – very, very much.

And don’t be a stranger, yeah? I’m a night owl, I’m always by a computer or a phone, scribbling down dreams and interactions and thoughts – you’re always welcome to drop by and say hello.

Oh and if there’s a topic I haven’t touched on, I am always looking to expand! Just run it by me and I’ll start thinking deeply!

The Prisoner

When it comes to writing, especially erotica, there’s always one concept that comes to me and I have no idea from where it originated.

Why did my mind piece together such a surreal, sensuous image? What does that mean for me? Is the image heralding the return of my dominant side? A side that has, I must admit, taken a back seat in the days following a particularly nasty bout of anxiety.

Or was it there all along? Influences and memories and turns on all stitched together under a pale grey sky within my mindscape, waiting to come out?

I ponder all of this as I ponder her – the nude woman lying on her back on the hotel bedroom, illuminated by the soft glow of the room’s television, the only source of light in the room.

I think of this woman – blonde hair folded underneath her, her breasts caught in the quickened rhythm of her breathing. Her nipples, stiff, pointing upwards towards the ceiling.

I can see the faint trace of her ribcage, the slick glean of sweat across her body, beading across her stomach.

I can see the soft fuzz across her slit and, if I peer hard enough at the image, I can see it glisten under the eye of the television.

And I can see the wires – thick, grey, sturdy – wrapped around her body, coiling around her chest and weaving down, snake-like, across her legs and under her ass.

She is bound, held tightly in place. I can only guess how the cables feel across her skin, how they pinch, how they are cool across her breasts.

I can see her arms held high above, locked in position, the cables winding up around her wrists, and I can see that she does not resist. That there is no struggle.

No, quite the opposite. Her body reverberates with an intensity I can feel worlds away. I can feel her pleasure, just as I can feel the pain bite at several points in her body where the cables cling tight.

I can hear her breath catch in her throat, hear her heart in my own ears. I can see her eyes, glued to the image on the television, static. A prisoner of the times.

This bound woman comes without touching one part of her body, is held by the cables as the orgasm hits every inch of her. An electrical current.

I’ve no idea where this image comes from but I feel her there with me every step of the way.

Write What Scares You

He writes what scares him, even if it doesn’t make sense, even if the ideas are stitched together to make a surreal pattern that leads to places he’s not sure he wants to go.

People, settings and voices come to him from the dark, ancient and feral and wanting, taking shape in the dark.

He writes and it scares him, the detail that comes – the way the man with his weight upon the woman, the unsuspecting victim as her blouse is torn to shreds, the words that come on their own – ‘as her blouse tears open, her breasts spill out’. Spill out. Vulgar. Crass. Rough. Unrefined. Intoxicating.

He can hear her yelps, inhuman, animalistic – as she’s stripped down to her cotton navy blue panties, he already knows this is the first time anyone has seen her naked in five years before They do.

It scares him, what he writes. How fully formed the thought is, how vivid and how vile – how he can see her pale legs kicking in the air, how he can smell her perfume laced with swear, how he would never wish this upon her, she who just came into his world.

What scares him only compels him, his hand unwavering from the page, viciously, spitefully, inflicting the rape of this blonde’s body and mind and feeding off of her sweat, cries while pushing her limits.

And why? Why violate her? Why take her ass, just to hear her voice crack and strain as He, with no regard at all, tears her anus. Why cause her pain and anguish? Why fill her mind with doubt, as pain turns to pleasure, as her body betrays her savagely, leading to her orgasm.

There is pain and anguish, yes, but there is something else. Beauty and Power, Raw and unprocessed.

He’s scared of himself in the end, the part that wanted it, desperately, savagely, his mouth watering for the taste of her. Her, the woman lying naked and breathless on the floor of the subway corridor.

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Don’t be ashamed of your rape fantasies. Explore what they mean to you. Have a think about the particular details of your fantasy and why it appeals to you.

Fantasies are simply that – fantasies. They’re not a reflection of your morals as a human being. They’re there for you to safely explore the darker impulses of the human mind – YOUR darker impulses.

Should you wish to take that fantasy to the next level, remember that any BDSM scene or setting should be discussed thoroughly before hand, and with safety measures in place to ensue that exploration is healthy and safe.

Try writing it down, capturing it onto the page so you can look back and know.

If you are troubled by a particularly savage thought, I’m always an email away, regardless of time zone. I rarely sleep.

On My Religion, Sexuality and Love

If you’re a long time reader, chances are you’ve read me touch on my catholic upbringing as a child and into my teens and how that affected my sexuality. Talking or writing about it at length, though, is something I haven’t done here – and for no real reason, I just haven’t felt it was an interesting topic to anyone but me.

I want to address that. However I will ask you to bear with me, it might get messy.

My father and mother were devout Catholics and raised me as such. I did the whole nine yards – reconciliation, monthly confessions, communion, Ash Wednesday, Palm Sunday’s, Stations of the cross, Sunday Mass – the whole shebang.

We were a conservative Catholic household and lived a conservative Catholic life. Even the sheer sight of me shirtless around the house would cause outcry. Playful or not, I cannot say, but I just wanted to raise this point.

When I was 12, I started to catch on about sex. My dad, when confronted with the notion, told me flatly ‘Yeah, we did!’. As an adult, my mum would tell me it was my dad’s job to address it as she did to my sisters. As an adult, my dad would tell me he never did enough for me. I wonder if he remembers that conversation.

As a 12 year old though, I was weird sexually. I’m taking masturbation in the weirdest places, I’m talking being excited that I’d have the house myself so I can be naked, I’m talking the primal masturbating in the mud in a frenzy – weird.

Thing was, I was making sense of myself. I found the pulse within myself that reacted against my catholic teachings to be naked, to be primal, to fight back against the feelings of shame – which I very well have now writing this, even though I understand how implausible those feelings are.

This reactionary behaviour paved the way for me to explore myself sexually as a teenager, which led to writing erotica and eventually to the wide world of BDSM and kink.

Looking back as I write this, sex – for me – is a battle between two minds. There’s the part of me who is relaxed and in control and vibrant and flourishing and then —- there’s the insecure part of me, questioning – constantly questioning, telling me that what I want, what I’ve always wanted, won’t be accepted. Somehow I know this to be a product of what I was taught, teaching me that to be naked, to want degradation, humiliation, is all wrong. Disgusting.

These days I have good control over the other part of my brain, though it does exist during my most intimate moments. However, during my twenties, that wasn’t the case.

I can distinctly remember feeling the rush of being in the moment, sexually and as a dominant, and then coming down from that high terrifies, not knowing what that meant, guilty because of my actions – my need to command, to dress, to be sadistic.

I thought I was in the wrong for years, with every kinky discovery bringing with it a wave of shame and a terrifying feeling that, after so long of living my life, I would have to reboot EVERYTHING I knew. This feeling, this scary realisation, led me to suppress it, at this point strengthened by the fact that I was in a relationship with a woman I loved but had zero interest in kink, D/s or BDSM.

Hell, I don’t even know now, years later, if my depression and anxiety is merely hereditary or a manifestation of my upbringing as a conservative Catholic. I can only guess and say it’s hereditary plus the upbringing PLUS my social experiences as a teenager. I didn’t have a lot of friends. I was shy. I was quiet. I still am.

What helped me, what still does – is trying to remember that my own development is important, that my happiness is important and that people like you, my dear readers, or kitten will accept me and my kinks and that it doesn’t mean I’m insane or sick or mentally ill.

These days, I’m not a practicing religious person – but I am spiritual. I live by a set of rules – to be kind to people, to love openly and accept everyone. I pray for my loves and my life and my animals but I consider my relationship between myself and God something entirely different to what’s prescribed in the bible. If that makes me agnostic or something, so be it, but I’d like to think that love is all you need and that if God exists, He – or she – would want me to be happy to my fullest extent. Outside of that, I try to be as kinky as I want 24/7. True to myself, in other words.

So was religion / being religious the catalyst for my feelings during sex? My anxiety? My development as a man? I’m not sure. I cannot say. I’m only a writer, half naked, musing to himself on a cool Monday morning.

30 Days of Kink – Day #27: I’m a Day Dreamer!

Do your non-kink interests ever find their way into your kinky activities? If so, how?

I’ve been do slack putting these up the past few days – my deepest apologies to the person following this daily.

To answer the question, my non-kink interests always find their way to kinky activities. Where you there when I wrote about Ariel submitting to Ursula as a Slave in exchange for human legs? I’m a huge Disney fan! I set a path to Disneyland and World when I visited the states.

Did you ever read HERA? It was a story for a competition I created last year or the year before. In it, a group of spacefarers investigate a dormant spaceship floating quietly in space, only for them to fall victim to a erratic AI becoming conscious and developing the mindset of a mistress.

It incorporated another favourite genre of mine – science fiction – and has ties to Greek mythology as well, both things I am an avid fan of.

When it comes to writing erotica, I like moving against the grain. I find to do so makes for a challenge to me as someone creating the world in ways it will pay off at the end of the tale – but I also like to challenge the reader. It’s always nice to get an email saying ‘I’m not normally a science fiction fan, or like anime, or I don’t like rape fantasies – but this really took my breath away” – to me that’s a job successfully done.

I can’t help it either, you know? Being inspired by the world around me, or incorporating other things I like into genre. For me, it just comes naturally that I want to experiment with ideas – and there’s freedom to here because I trust readers will definitely tell me what works and what doesn’t. It’s a good place to experiment.

The long-running VALHALLA is another example. I love Norse mythology and fantasy and put both into the story around the more kinky aspects like the M/s dynamic. I actually borrow a lot from old Norse texts, lifting Valkyrie names from the Prose Edda and putting them into the story. Kára is one Valkyrie from the Prose Edda, envisioned here as a fiery soul, like a feisty middle child with problems of her own.

I know what you’re thinking though – yes, yes – enough about what you like to write about, what about your sex life? Well does psychology count as a non kink activity? I mean it IS kinky too to a degree but it doesn’t quite fit into the spectrum.

I’m interested in how minds operate and why. I’m interested in encouraging minds to break free of whatever aspect that is blocking them from that liberation. I’m interested in chipping away at armour in someone piece by piece to see what’s underneath and how we can play with that together.

There’s something really REALLY sexy about finding an aspect in someone that they never knew existed. Maybe it’s an interest, maybe it’s heightened pleasure. To break them when they say they can’t be broken.

Then it’s something as simple as walking out the door right? I walk out the door, ready to grab a coffee for the day (praise and glory be to the coffee) and all of a sudden I’m thinking how I can push kitten against this wall and making her whimper.

I’m constantly thinking about the world and the people around me and turning them into stories I can write about.

I’m a day dreamer.

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.