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!

It’s Not Too Late To Sign Up To The ‘Darker Side Of Spice’ Event!

It’s a particularly chilly morning this Thursday…and I’m laying in bed snuggled under the doonas just listening to the stories of people in the lifestyle – authors, submissive’s, professional dominatrix – and I’ve got a big ol’ goofy grin on my face.

For someone like me, who is shy and more or less keeps to himself, hearing the stories from others, especially when they’re so different, is a beautiful and fascinating thing. I mean these interviews go for 40 odd minutes, the standard run time of an episode of television, but I almost feel like I could pick the interviewee’s brain for hours, as I’m sure the lovely host P. Nelson could too!

So if you never got around to signing up earlier and you’re a little awkward like me but love the psychology of D/s no matter how far it strays from your tastes, there’s still time to sign up! We’re in day four now but old interviews stay up for 72 hours and all of the interviews are absolutely free and arrive to your email of choice when they’re up! So if you’re keen, hit the link HERE and whether you’re snuggled on the couch, driving to and from work or relaxing in your favourite spot, have a cheeky listen and enjoy the rest of the event! It’s bound to make you smile! Amongst other things!

And be on the look out for me in a first time for the blog, my voice and my awkward self!

Why Do You Care So Much?! – And Other Frequently Asked Questions

As I lay in bed and enjoy winter’s gentle kiss on my bare skin, I thought I’d compile a list of frequently asked questions that come my way. It’s not a huge list I’m afraid but hopefully some might recognise themselves in these.

Why do you care so much about the people out there, newcomer or otherwise?

This is a big one that I get, and rightly so I guess. The internet can be a dodgy place and a recurring element that I’ve seen since starting the blog and offering counsel / mentoring is emotionally and physically abusive men, generally preying on women who have started to realise they’re submissive.

I care so much because I guess I see a lot of myself in people that write in to me. I can sense that trepidation and uncertainty. I mean, the world of Kink is so layered and vast that it’s terrifying. Where do you even start?

It’s partially because of my upbringing – I come from a conservative Catholic household – but also because of my insecurity, magnified by my shyness and my undiagnosed anxiety disorder. I was TERRIFIED at the prospect of, essentially, rebooting my life – finding a new place to live, finding someone who would, somehow share my sexual interests. It scared me so much that I stayed in a vanilla relationship longer than I should have.

And…I don’t want people to go through that. Not if I can help them find their voice and confidence and, at the very least, ease their anxiety or minds. I mean, even now I’ll get an email from someone who deleted several drafts before hitting send. Even now, on twitter, someone will message me and say they’ve been reading my blog for years – but haven’t said anything to me out of fear or guilt or shame – and it breaks my heart. Which is why I so often write to tell people it’s okay to write in to me.

This is a long response but another thing people ask after is my patience. The patience I have, with people asking questions – I haven’t hit a point where it’s become a nuisance. And I can’t tell you why I’m not bothered, I simply don’t feel annoyed. It’s just – I want to be available as much I can, and be this secure and helpful support.

Have you ever thought about doing a podcast?

I have, but being so shy and rambling and monotone I don’t know how entertaining I’d be. When I talk for a while, my anxiety tends to put the thought in that I’m self indulgent..or have tickets on myself – and I feel bad all on my own accord.

It’s a nice fantasy to think of having a BDSM podcast where I talk about a few things an episode – I could even have anxiety support sessions where I read a book or something – but would people enjoy it if I was the only speaker? I’m not sure.

I’d need a host that was like me – someone I could riff off and get talking. It can’t be my kitten because, a, her work and B – she is far too shy and reserved! You should’ve overheard me talking to her about voyeurism on a coffee run one day! She kept cursing me with a shy smile and flushing red.

Is being a Dominant exhausting, having to take care of so many different aspects?

Hmm, no! I mean, we take in note structure and mental well being and order – but these things become second nature with practice. And before they become second nature, they are things that you WANT to do – or at least that I WANT to do. There’s a constant drive there for me. Always…kinda like a PlayStation 4 on rest mode..it’s there in the background thinking away.

Because I want this – whether sexually or non sexually – it’s never a point of ‘ugh, gotta whip my lady now..’ It may become routine but it doesn’t become less exciting because of that fact. It’s still a constant pleasure and a thrill, to have the trust of someone. To hear their free moans and to be the one to guide them. To look them dead in the eye and hold their gaze.

The only time I can think of it being exhausting is when I’m in the midst of an anxiety storm and I lose not only will but my entire sex drive. In those moments, the last thing I want to do is be dominant.

What are your kitten’s thoughts on offering to talk to and / or mentor folk?

In the beginning, when I first wanted to do this, she had questions. I mean, even on a platonic level, talking bdsm and the like is still sexual. So that’s more than understandable. So we had a lengthy chat and I told her what I wanted to do and why, sharing how I felt and how I wanted to do something, anything, to alleviate minds and she understood.

She senses my need to share my writings and advice and opinions, though I think she’s worried that I’ll get hurt trying to help when you can’t possibly help everyone. And that’s why I try to help where I can, but not try to pry or overstep boundaries.

And something we always agreed on from the beginning was that bloglife didn’t overspill into any personal time spent together. Birthdays, brunch dates, family time together, Netflix on the couch, coffee runs – I always make time for us and never crisscross.

What do you get out of being a Mentor?

For me, there’s personal fulfilment that I’m getting, because I’m doing something I really want – and that’s helping someone, and guiding them and sometimes even seeing them grow.

I think it’s knowing that I helped in some small way that makes it worthwhile. I mean, I’ve gotten messages on Fetlife and tumblr from people I don’t know saying I was the inspiration for them to confront their own fears – and isn’t that the sweetest thing? It gives me the warm and fuzzies, honestly. I mean I’m just regular bloke from Australia, not even officially trained in counsel but I’m helping someone from the other side of the world. It’s beautiful.

I’ll stop it before things get War and Peace-levels of writing. If there’s a question you want to ask or one you feel was left out, let me know either in the comments below or at darkanddominant@hotmail.com

Remember, we all grow and bloom at different places. Don’t let others dictate your growth. Don’t define yourself by someone else’s thoughts on you – and whether you’re a long time lurker, first time reader or just want to chat all things BDSM and psychological – you are always more then welcome to write to me.

Incoming Rant and Ramble about being a BDSM Mentor

Grey sky leaking the bedroom windows, a soft rain on the roof over my head – laying naked in bed this winterly morning, I’ve been reflecting on my time acting as a mentor, of sorts, to those that have wanted or needed a recurring figure and friend to help them in their own journey, be they new and learning or savvy to the ways but finding new wrinkles in their mind.

When I first learned that such a thing as a BDSM Mentor existed, I didn’t really know what to make of it – was it key for some special sexual dynamic? Another riff on addressing one as ‘Sir’? It wasn’t until I read up on it, and read thoughts from the community on this here internet, that I realised what it was. And it spoke to me.

A mentor needs no ceremony, no bells and whistles, no special speech assigned to them – they merely are a friend on standby, someone to offer resources and guidance, someone who stands by the individual for as long as the individual needs their help.

A mentor is a preference though – one does not require a mentor. I didn’t have one, I stumbled through knowledge and here I am – and if someone like myself can do it, anyone can. No, a mentor is purely for those who feel they need the guidance. Someone to drop in and chat.

So in late 2016 / early 2017, I started to give it some thought. Could I be a mentor, I thought? Do I know enough? Can I help others? Am I worthy of their time? I doubted myself but my desire to help others where I struggled won over. I ran it by my kitten, clearing misconceptions, making sure that – if I were to chat with anyone about these things, man or woman, that she would be comfortable with that notion.

So I began to offer it more openly to readers here, being sure not to push the concept or make any shy person feel obligated, as I sometimes have been known to feel. I just wanted people to know someone could chat with them.

It became a thing of growth for me. I learned to be careful of influencing others with my own thoughts on kink, instead creating a space for them to feel at ease in their own skin. I listened and didn’t speak unless they asked. It’s not my place to interfere, I didn’t want to put thoughts in their head. If they needed a push, Well I would do that gently and only if I felt it was safe to do so. I didn’t want to rewrite their thought process.

Since 2017 I have been blessed to have had the opportunity to help people work through some of their own thoughts – and seeing these people go on to happy D/s relationships has been a beautiful and fulfilling thing for me, knowing in some tiny way that I helped them. It brings a tear to my eye.

It’s strange to me, when someone approaches me and apologises for their scattered email of thoughts or for wasting my time – because I’ve never had a problem with any of that. I’ve never felt out by an email, never minded wandering thoughts – as I’m the same – and I make the time to check my emails and blog. More than that, perhaps I think it’s strange because I can see myself in that person – scared and doubting, unsure about what they’re doing.

I don’t offer mentoring as much as I used to. A flare up in my anxiety caused me to doubt myself, leaving scars that remind me of those troubling thoughts – Who are you to offer that help? No one wants a stranger interfering. Just stop what you are doing.

But I try to relent and push through and still offer help where I can, because once in a while someone will write and say they’ve been trying to write for months but couldn’t overcome their own anxiety.

Being a mentor and mentoring fulfils my soul in many ways, but it has taught me growth. I’ve learned about who I am, about being a teacher, about the sides within me that someone I’m helping helps me see in the first place, thus teaching me.

It’s just a wholesome, lovely thing. And the fact that this person trusts me enough to let me in and help? That’s an honour.

End Of Year Q/A! AMA!

After two seperate encounters this week, one in which a reader wrote in mentioning they wanted to write to me but wasn’t sure how to – and the other, talking to a new submissive about the very meaning of rules and protocol in a D/s relationship, I realise just how hard it is for someone – young or old – to sort out their feelings and to understand just what it is they’ve been trying to describe.

So since I didn’t do a November Q/A or AMA and there have been a few new followers from Tumblr since it’s purging of adult content (Welcome!), I thought I’d create this space for newcomers or people who have questions to ask them here or if they choose, at my email at darkanddominant@hotmail.com

Let me be honest – I’m writing this now for two reasons – the first because I will get a message in which the author apologises profusely for bugging me or taking up my time or for writing at length – and it doesn’t bother me at all. Not one iota. So reading that I can understand, but it certainly still breaks my heart.

The second because it occurred to me (as it does at several intervals in the year) how easy it can be to get lost inside your own head in a D/s relationship, especially if you’re young and new to the lifestyle – or just don’t know who to talk to.

It can be easy to take for granted what I know – but I forget – it doesn’t come easily to someone new.

To that end, please PLEASE feel free to write as much or as little as you’d like. No email is too long, no comment is too meandering. I don’t judge on naivety or inexperience and I certainly don’t shame or think people silly for their thoughts.

I can also use any questions in a forthcoming post so that it can be informative for anyone that has an interest in that line of questioning.

12 Days of Kinkmas – Day #3 – ‘My Girlfriend Is A Sexy Alien’

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‘Okay, don’t freak out.’
I looked at her from where she sat on the couch, dressed in her Cookie Monster shorties and a loose black singlet.
My hands were cradling it – the thin long gooey thing, like a snake’s skin it left behind in the shower. Like wet rubber slimed up with jelly.
I found the slimy rubber-snake-suit thing cooler in the shower, first thinking it was done alternative product that wasn’t entirely washed away.
It had no smell that forced me to gag, I didn’t scream unlike the time the cat ran by my feet in the dark the other day, it was just a watered brown, translucent clump of slimy rubber. Like –
‘Don’t freak out’ my girlfriend Andrea repeated, breaking her own rule and looking freaked out.
‘Is there a snake inside?’
My voice came out choked and broken.
‘Honey, we don’t get snakes in Melbourne, I keep telling you that.’
‘So this is one of them body products then? State of the art?’
Andrea put down the PS4 controller she was still cradling when I stepped out into the open lounge room cradling my own new thing.
She had taken the day off to play the latest God of War and had been up before me to pick it up in store at 6am.
Andrea sighed, rather deeply.
I felt something wet and thick splatter down on my left foot and stifled a cringe. Suddenly it hit me that I was butt naked, still in an about-to-shower-mode. I must’ve wandered out here naked. Shit! Dripping this gooey thing all over the house.
‘It’s not a product OR a prank..’ she said, beating my own mind’s conclusions.
‘Am I…’
‘Going crazy?’ She finished. ‘Nope.’
A beat.
‘Will you sit down?’
‘No?’
My No came out feeble and unsure.
‘Okay. You know I love you, right?’
‘You have a pet snake?’ I blurted out.
‘No.’
‘And you haven’t told me!’
‘No.’
‘You’re having an affair with a man and you two showered together and this is some kind of thick come melding together that he left behind before he escaped.’
‘Jesus Christ, Ash! No.’
‘But. But…’
Mind racing, words struggling to keep up.
‘You can see this right?’
‘Ashley, I’m an Alien.’
Andrea had stood up, eyes locked right on mine. Those fierce blue eyes were burning darker now.
‘Like….in the video game?’
Andrea sighed, held her hand and index finger up in a WAIT! Gesture.
I waited there, naked as our cat, foot splattered by this stretch of something in my hands.
Andrea closed her eyes, squeezed them in fact, her brow creasing, her jaw clenched shut. She stood that way for a moment – and then…

Something strange happened. A spot appeared on her forearm. A polka dot, no bigger than a thumbnail, deep purple. Then another. And another. And another.
Purple polka dots began appearing all over her body, one by one, before they all became something more, like one big polka dot. No, her skin was a deep purple. Coarse, it seemed.
Her hair, her dark brown pixie cut was shifting into something else, a bright pink bob. A bowl cut? A what?
Her eyebrows faded; replaced by the deep purple leathery skin that was now…her skin?
Her eyes were the same; I could see somehow, but her lips…her lips were ruby red.
Her transformation or metamorphosis or whatever the fuck finished, she sighed, still sounding very much like Andrea.
‘Every so often, I purge myself of my old skin. It’s nothing sinister, just a cleanse. Like peeling off a face mask.’
‘You’re an Alien.’
I could feel my eyes widen and tighten.
‘Yes, Ashley.’ She said in a way that I understood she was trying to sound calming, but she was fucking purple.
‘I…do…do you eat people?’
‘No! I’m not a cannibal, Ash.’
‘You’re an Alien.’
‘So? We aren’t cannibals.’
‘We?’
Andrea sighed. ‘Yes. We. I…don’t want to talk about..’

‘So the family I’m meeting for Christmas..’
‘Are not human, yes. We’ve interpreted ourselves into society.’
‘Like The Thing!’
‘No, not like The Thing! Look – our species discovered Earth hundreds of years ago. Silently, we’ve inserted ourselves into your culture to…take a look.’
‘To become overlords?’
‘No! To study. We’re a race of scientists, mostly. Except I didn’t want to become that. I’ve wanted to feel. For the longest time, I’ve wanted to feel.’
‘Feel? As in – touch?’
‘Yes, Ash, as in touch.’
‘Can you read my thoughts?’
‘No. But I sense bits and pieces..’
Andrea, my leathery Purple-skinned Alien girlfriend, folded her arms and looked at me with those same blue eyes of hers.
‘So. The Andrea I saw….who is she? Did you see her on a billboard or something? Like, somewhere out there is an Andrea who knows nothing about me?’
‘You’re giving me way too much credit. I dreamt of myself as a human shortly before we arrived here. I brought her to life. I…am her.’
‘And that’s what you do? What you study?’
A smile spread across Andrea’s face. I’ve seen that look before, when she’s about to say something devious.

‘Sex.’
‘S-sex?’ I repeated, the words catching in my throat like some cartoonish gulp.
‘We are a race of….what you call, what call now I suppose, Dominants and Submissives’’
“What would you call it?”
Andrea seemed to smirk at that. “Arctumolongs and Saemptions.”
The words sounded gruff and guttural and low – and the fact that this was all coming from Andrea, my girlfriend of –
“We’ve been together two years-“
Uh oh, my mouth was running again.
“- why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“I meant to. I mean I was meaning to. I mean I was meaning to mind the time I meant to mind but I just…couldn’t find the courage. Don’t be mad.”
My head was too busy swimming in a myriad of thoughts to be mad. Maybe ‘mad’ would come later, when I wasn’t looking at Andrea’s skin that looked like fine leather. Only purple.
“I have….so many questions…Was the Purple People Eater song named after your race?”
“What?” Andrea frowned, her arms folded.
“Nothing..How old are you?”
“Only 90. But that translates to 26 Human Years…”
“90? But that’s-”
“Look, Just….Can you turn around a moment? I want to change back, and…I don’t want you to see me like this.”

Digesting what she just said, my eyes unfocused as full processing power seemed to divert to my brain to comprehend. I thought of Jeff Goldblum in The Fly, all mutated and slimy.
“Please.”
I  felt the stress conveyed in her voice, and obliged. She was still Andrea after all. My Andrea.
I looked at our kitchen, somehow taking note of the washing up to be done later.
A few seconds past, a few beats of dread along with them, then Andrea spoke:
“You can turn around now.”

The Andrea that greeted me when I turned around was the Andrea I knew, the one that I saw after our fourth date together, when she invited me back to her apartment and told me to undress and stay very still, hands at my sides, while she undressed herself.
The way her small breasts rested, one slightly more full than the other, the way freckles sent a trail down her stomach, her slight tuft of darkened pubic hair in the form of a landing strip – no matter if Andrea’s human form was based off a dream, she was perfect.
Wait a moment – what did I just think? She told me to…?
“If you come from a race of sexy Alien scientists who are either Dominant or submissive….which one are you?”
A grin lit her face.

So there I was, hands cuffed to the bars of our bed headboard, legs spread and tied to the bottom of the bed.
I could feel myself, against my own accord, slip inside Andrea, who sat straddling me, her hair covering her eyes, denying me of getting the chance to read her expressions.
One of her hands was resting against my left thigh, bunched up into a fist, draining of colour, while the other gripped a black crop that she used to trail my nipples.
Watching Andrea’s hips sway in a hypnotic rhythm, feeling her move on her own accord, easing onto my cock before easing outwards, stretching the moment out, second by second, I felt a part of something bigger than myself.

I just knew it.

Just Write

So. I just got an email from a reader of my blog and it struck me as sad and it’s for these reasons that I want to write this piece.

If you’re going to write in to me, if you want to write in to me, there’s a couple things I, personally, want you to know and understand.

I’m not as busy as you think. I’m not running around like a headless chook, know that while I may work, I also definitely check my email daily and respond in full as soon as I can.

I don’t respond to emails to be polite to you, to what a reader described as ‘a self proclaimed fangirl’ – I respond because I want to. You must understand, I started this blog not just to share my fantasies and satisfy a part of me, I did it in case it could inspire someone as awkward as I was when I started off.

So I love hearing from people – young, old, male, female, Australian, American, Norwegian – the more the merrier. Language barriers be damned! I love conversing with people and I love talking BDSM and it’s lifestyles.

Whether you’re a fan or seeking answers or even if you a bone to pick with me about something I wrote. Grill me. I welcome all of it, criticism, friendly chatter, the like.

You’re not bothering me. At all. In all my years of blogging, in responding to the kind people that write in, I can honestly say not one email has bugged me, not one. Even if one person has a laundry list of questions, I’ll sit down and work it out with them until they’re more spent then I am. Seriously. So never ever think that YOU are the person that will be too much for me, because that just won’t be the case. Try me, I dare you!

Do you want to write but don’t know what to say? Do you feel stupid because I can talk so openly and you find it rough to? I’ve had years to process how I feel, to work to rise above my own shyness. I was the same as you in the beginning. We all start somewhere and blossom on our own time.

I will say this though – just write. Don’t worry about grammar or context or anything, just write. I honestly care not for long novel-length texts, I read every word and respond. I’ll even write a long novel-length email of my own.

Start at the beginning. Write how you feel. Find a place to start at, to get the ball rolling, and then just let it go – just write and let it loose. If it feels good, write it. If it doesn’t, write it anyway and send it.

Too many times have I read that someone wanted to write in sooner or deleted several iterations of the email they just sent – and it breaks my heart.

I know I can’t TELL people what to do. I know I can’t get people to talk as frankly as I do, but I’m writing this because I want you to know, anything you have to say, in any way, is perfectly A-OK by me and that you should not feel shame or delete what you write, because I mostly certainly want to read it. Don’t even press that delete button or I’ll slap a crop against your knuckles!

Be yourself. That’s all I ask of you. Everything else, please don’t worry. I’m not as scary as your mind makes me out to be!

TD&D