In Which I Discuss Teenage Readership (If Any)

When I was a teenager, I felt isolated from the adult world. I felt like there was a secret community I wasn’t a part of, that there was a joke I couldn’t hear yet because I didn’t know it. 

Some adults treated me that way. They’d scoff if I asked a naive question. They’d laugh with others if I showed a moment of weakness and fear,

Just recently, I had an email from a reader in which they felt the need to clarify they were 18+. And I get that, because if I had to rate my blog it’d probably be 18+ for its Erotica and sometimes my language. 

But, readers, at the same time I’m conflicted. I’m conflicted because I don’t want to be that adult that isolates a teenager from learning or asking questions. Because I was that teenager. And looking back, I’d like to think there could be an adult that was available for questions, should they write in to me. In which case I would never turn anyone away or betray their trust.

At the same time, teenagers are growing up way too fast. When I was a teenager, the internet was still in its dial up stages. Blogs and information wiki’s were unheard of. And now teenagers have access to all that, should they so desire. So maybe this blog post is all for naught. Maybe it’s all good. My blog – after all – is just a drop of water in an ocean of information. 

However, I will say this: if you’re under 18 or just on 18, if you need to run a question by me or need reassurance you’re not insane, you’re not alone. You can write to me and I can promise you I won’t judge. 

Somehow you’ve found yourself here, and through my blog there are some other beautiful blog authors that can help you. You’ve found a friendly network now.

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In Which I Discuss Teenage Readership (If Any)

When I was a teenager, I felt isolated from the adult world. I felt like there was a secret community I wasn’t a part of, that there was a joke I couldn’t hear yet because I didn’t know it. 

Some adults treated me that way. They’d scoff if I asked a naive question. They’d laugh with others if I showed a moment of weakness and fear,

Just recently, I had an email from a reader in which they felt the need to clarify they were 18+. And I get that, because if I had to rate my blog it’d probably be 18+ for its Erotica and sometimes my language. 

But, readers, at the same time I’m conflicted. I’m conflicted because I don’t want to be that adult that isolates a teenager from learning or asking questions. Because I was that teenager. And looking back, I’d like to think there could be an adult that was available for questions, should they write in to me. In which case I would never turn anyone away or betray their trust.

At the same time, teenagers are growing up way too fast. When I was a teenager, the internet was still in its dial up stages. Blogs and information wiki’s were unheard of. And now teenagers have access to all that, should they so desire. So maybe this blog post is all for naught. Maybe it’s all good. My blog – after all – is just a drop of water in an ocean of information. 

However, I will say this: if you’re under 18 or just on 18, if you need to run a question by me or need reassurance you’re not insane, you’re not alone. You can write to me and I can promise you I won’t judge. 

Somehow you’ve found yourself here, and through my blog there are some other beautiful blog authors that can help you. You’ve found a friendly network now.

Memoirs Of A Somewhat Mentor

When I started up this blog a few years ago, one of the first things I wanted to do was to provide any sort of help to anyone that felt confused or lost. To mentor.

To me, that meant being there as much as I could to answer any questions, offer concepts for exercises and just be a presence in this persons life as much as they wanted. To help where I once stumbled. 

I doubted myself at first. Who was I to offer help? Especially to someone who might be much older? And who would even take up that offer? This IS the Internet? 

Long story short, some people wrote in. And some people wanted a platform to talk in case they had any questions. And through email, sometimes rarely Kik, people listened to my advice. They challenged me – in a positive manner, questioning why I felt this way, why I became who I am today. Sometimes I listened to them, offering some ways in which they could challenge their own problems. Sometimes it was to get to the gym, sometimes it was a matter of insecurity. 

I’m humbled by every experience. It’s nice, sometimes, to hear that the lowly things I think and feel about myself aren’t necessarily true to someone else. So I’m honoured and touched in ways I could never cover in a blog post. 

Sometimes a person who has taken my advice writes in to say they’re going on a date. And it warms my heart that I played a bit part, even if it’s minuscule, in their lives.

Other times I feel like a broken record offering my help, but I just feel so strongly this need to help and nurture. It’s like I mentioned a few blog posts back about being an over protective father figure. It could be my kitten’s friend, or a mate of mine, or a mate’s sister – or my own sister. I feel this need to stand in front of this person and shield them, to use a dramatic metaphor. And this quality both embarrasses me – because I feel it’s unjust – and runs through my veins. 

So acting as a mentor – a friend, advisor, however you want to call it – warms my heart. Because I get to open the door to this person across the world I’d probably never meet if I didn’t challenge myself to write this blog. And I get to learn new things about myself, I get to challenge my perceptions. I get to help. 

Anyway. I won’t go on any longer. Have a lovely day!

Define Yourself

When I was younger – let’s say, 20-21, which feels like a lifetime ago – I often wondered where my place was when it came to the different dynamics of Dominance. 

The more I studied myself and the more I interacted with people, the more I could see I had a hand in different pies. I had the traits of a Daddy, a sadistic side that could fit in with a Master-type – and yet above all that, I had my own sensibilities. Vanilla sensibilities. 

In the past there have been people that have told me outright I was Dominant. Because I didn’t follow their own specifications. I’ve just recently been labeled a false Dominant because of my age. How could I possibly know what I want at my age, right? 

I don’t let this kind of thing get to me. I have been to the deepest darkest part of my mind and peeled behind the curtain. I’ve felt what it means to starve the darkness within me. I’ve wanted to do cruel and unspeakable things to the man that hit on my kitten at a venue a month ago or so now. And I’ve felt the freedom of being a primal, the rush of feeling like this is where I want to be – this spot right here.

We should not judge each other. Ever. We should practice kindness. Openness. We should remember that people grow and learn and become the same as we are in different ways. After all, we are in this together. 

I’ve spent my twenties putting names to my deepest feelings and desires. I’ve spent those years determining if things were a phase – or what thing works for me. 

To the individual – I’ll say this: Follow your heart. It will tell you what is right, what is wrong and what has always been true. No one can take that away from you, for they are fools if they try.

The Psychology behind these dynamics are multidimensional and unique to each person. Find what makes your heart soar. You will know when you feel elated, like you’re in the midst of an epiphany.

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. 

Paint It Black: A Stream of Consciousness piece 


‘Paint it Black’ by The Rolling Stones is a curious beast of a song. From the lyrics, It feels like it is coming from the mind of a manic depressive. 

But on a tangent, on a stream of consciousness, I want to add something that I’ve always, personally, taken away from the song.
“I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes. I have to turn my head until my darkness goes”




Every time I heard that part, I would always think of something animalistic. 

Kind of like a Dr. Jekyll / Mr. Hyde duality happening. The primal. The animal. That thing that wants to ravage these, well, poor young women. 

And so, will you kindly step over the threshold and into my mind? Do watch your step and don’t wander off. Things may grab you and take you. 
That lyric makes me think of a man. A single father, if you will. A painter. Or at least, he is painting his home when his daughter, a pretty little thing of 18, comes home with her best friend. 

This daughter, raven hair, blue eyes, no make up, effortlessly pretty, slinks off to the shower, leaving her best friend, freckles, red hair, eyes like ice, with this single father.
Now…I’m a fan of magic. I’m also very tired, it’s 5 – no, 6-38am upon reading this and despite my best interests, I’m writing. I don’t know why. Forgive me if this is garbage and feel free to write so in the comments below. I trust you to.

But I’m a fan of magic with my stories. Hence sea creatures and cults and demons invading bedrooms. And this scenario? Say the paint fumes affect this best friend. Say this single father, this awkward, lanky, but charming dark haired man, despite his best intentions, gives in to the part of him that flirts a look at this younger lady. 

What if…with one hand, he grabs her and pushes her against the wet wall, tears off her stockings, rips down her girly panties, something cute like tinker bell light blue panties. And tinker bell’s face is right where this girl’s slit is, yeah. Starting to be soaked. 

What if this best friend doesn’t stand a chance against this father. And while her head shakes off the paint fumes, she’s getting her clothes torn off. 

The single father, he’ll throw her down along the ground, a tarp softening her blow. And I see a pale ass. A freckle is on her right cheek. And it’s utterly delightful. This freckle is like a highlight. As her lightly trimmed cunt that can be seen as she falls to the ground, defenceless. But also weirdly aroused.

And while she squirms, maybe groans and cries – cries drowned out by the daughter’s shower – this single father grabs her by the legs and drags her back to him. And you know, I can feel the floor on my stomach drag as he drags her. It’s like I feel her. And see her. Weird.

I did, only once, witness a dream come to reality. I dreamt of two elements and then the next day, those two elements appeared in my life. Right where I was in that exact moment. I was travelling overseas so the chances of these elements appearing were slim. Maybe there’s a minute part of me that is psychic? Hm. But I do feel her. Just as I see her.

And this single father, maybe he grabs a paint brush, dips it in the nearest point and he’ll paint her black. 
Maybe he’ll paint all of her black. Her arms, breasts, ass, stomach. He’ll mark her. And she’ll squirm at the coldness. And she’ll feel repulsed but aroused. She’a being claimed in an aggressive animalistic fashion.

And then, once he’s done marking her, randomly I might add – he doesn’t want her to asphyxiate – he’ll take her by her blackened hips and fuck her from behind. And he will find that she is so aroused that he slips right into her. And she’ll be caught off by it because there’s a tickle in her stomach that says this is wrong. And she secretly likes said tickle. 

They’ll fuck until she comes first, at which point this single father will slip outside of her to come on a nearby cloth that he had been using to wipe his sweat from his brow. 
What happens then is up to you. Not me. I’ve already painted the image, now it’s your interpretation. 

Goodnight.