The Fever

Last week I was in the eye of the storm with a virus I had. After, when I recovered, I found half of this story scribbled in my phone notes. I don’t know where it came from, this idea, but I decided to finish it when I felt better. Can you tell where feverish me stopped writing and recovering me picked up the story?

Chestnut coloured hair down around her face, she clawed helplessly at the deep blue satin sheets of the bed, like a dog trying to run on tiled floor. Strands of her hair were clawing at her eyes, making them sting, but this didn’t deter her. She wanted to find her footing.

Only her feet were being held up, His hands clasping her tight as he dragged her back into him. Her body, her completely nude body, slid backwards along the bed. She just couldn’t find a grip, something to hold on to.

Her tits dragged along the silky smooth fabric, nipples growing stiff as they trailed backwards. She felt betrayed by her body, by the slight sense of giddiness swirling in the pit of her stomach.

“C’mere!” He seethed at her from behind. As she felt the cool air kiss her bare bottom, she imagined his clenched jaw as he spat the words out at her. Maybe spittle dotted his lips, maybe that same spittle sprayed out across her ass cheeks, sizzling on her searing hot flesh. At least it did in this corner of her mind.

Her arms suddenly felt like dead weights. She could feel the ache gnaw at them, radiating pain in her shoulder and down along her arm.

Fuck this bed, fuck this moment. Fuck his strength.

She had her legs though, she could kick him, maybe even in the face, split his pretty lip, bruise his darkened eyes.

His darkened eyes…yes, his eyes would seem darker now. They had that effect, his dark brown eyes. They seemed to turn black when He was angered.

Fuck his dark eyes.

She flailed her legs around, trying to break free of his iron grip. It was useless.

How did he do this? How did he tear her dress apart? Why did she let herself feel so useless standing there in her boring black bra and her Wonder Woman underwear? She should’ve kicked him then, she had the training. Brown Belt in Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, motherfucker.

So what happened? Why had she froze?

More importantly, why had she let him tear her dress apart? She could’ve torn him apart instead.

Get away from me, she wanted to scream, but her chest felt heavy, the words barely formed on her tongue. The harder she tried to mentally pry the words from her tongue and through her wet lips, the more lightheaded she began to feel.

That’s when she felt it, the toughness of his stubble prickling against the inside of her thigh. He was kissing her, she could feel. Planting rough, messy kiss on her bare, exposed thigh, one after another.

Her stomach began to twist and knot the closer he got to her slit.

Fuck you, she spat telepathically to the body that betrayed her. Fuck you fuck you fuck you.

I can curse you all…all...

She could feel His coarse mouth over her pussy, his tongue gliding along her cream-coated slit, itself prickly. A couple day’s growth. Short hairs. She could feel her cheeks burn for some reason. She normally shaved, she just didn’t get around to it.

She slammed her fist on the edge of the bed in frustration. She felt like a child, like a fool child, but it was all that came out of her in that moment – that, and a Harumph!

From behind her, she could hear him laugh. It was mirthless, as if he was thinking something she couldn’t decipher. She pictured him from between her legs, lips spread in that laugh, her own juices running down his chin.

Like a child, she thought. Like a greedy fucking child that’s bitten into a plump piece of fruit.

“Yeah, fuck you.”

Her heart leapt in her chest as she realised that, this time, she had spoken her thought out loud.

Or had the words finally dislodged from her throat? Had the pebble been knocked loose, letting the river flow normally?

All of a sudden she could feel the warmth of his cheeks leave her thighs. He was moving behind her, she could tell, because the bed shifted underneath her, swaying back and forth, like she was on a ship – a hogtied lass left out on deck for the pirate crew.

Wait, where the fuck had that thought come from?

She felt him tug her backwards, shifting her legs lower a little as he no doubt pulled her closer.

Now my’s chance. Now I can..

She wriggled her foot free of his grasp.

Yes!!

Feeling it sway in the air, she jabbed it backwards blindly, trying to knock him off.

It crashed into contact with something, causing him to roar in surprise.

“Oh you bitch! You fucking bitch!”

Gotta use this moment to break free…

She swung around so that she was on her back now, her other leg finally free.

He was ready for her, his hands – like vipers – coiling around her right leg.

“Come. Here.”

Her heart was working overdrive in her chest, thumping in her ears.

Behind this, lingered a stranger feeling. Excitement? Exhilaration? What was this?

Like a viper herself, she lashed out her free leg, hoping to smack him right between those pecks of his, but he caught it.

He had her again.

Panic kicked in, swirling in her veins. All of her training and he fucking had her. How had this happened?

How had this –

Heat. Searing, intense heat.

Burning her cheeks, flooding her head, her mind. Her skin prickled with heat, zigg-zagging down her chest and arms quickly, leaving goosebumps in her wake.

A wheeze came out of her parted wet lips, a string of saliva stretching from upper lip to bottom lip as the guttural noise came clawing its way up her throat.

He was inside of her, he had plunged deep inside of her pussy – parting her Judas lips and filling her to the brim. Or what felt like to the brim.

Fucking Christ, when was the last time she was filled like this? No, when was the last time she had felt FULL like this. This sickening, giddy fucking full feeling. The one she could feel but never explain, not to her mind or to her journal. She just felt…full!

And still with her fucking legs in the air, the rest of her on the bed, to the victor goes the spoils.

She could feel the ache in her legs, that tense horrible ache as he clutched her still but her mind was being assaulted just like her cunt. Before she could catch her breath, he was tearing out of her, her lips letting go of his cock, before he slammed straight back into her again.

I could clutch the side of the bed.

I could pinch my nipples.

I could kick him in the dick when he pulls out.

I really want to reach down and claw at my clit.

Fuck! No! I need to think, I need to plan.

I want to come!

Stop it!

She felt his hands grip her sides, stretch her legs apart. She felt like she was going to snap like a twig and he was just using her like a toy, like a fucking whore.

She couldn’t even grind back into him!

No. She couldn’t even loosen his grip of her legs just a little bit so she could take her shot at him again, maybe wind him like he had winded her.

“Keep. Your. Legs. Still.” He hissed at her.

She liked to think of him struggling to hold her constantly squirming legs as he wrangled them still. How was his face? Was it even darker before, if such a thing were possible? Her hair was in her eyes and her arms were like lead so she couldn’t wipe her vision free. She could feel the tangle of her hair, at the corner of her mouth, itching at her lips, but she just couldn’t move.

Tender. Her pussy was already growing tender at his constant barrage, his total destruction of her body. She couldn’t even remember the last time she had destroyed her pussy like this, fast and hard and urgent, like each thrust was necessary for survival.

With a hiss from him, her body shuddered as she felt his cock plunge deep into her, sending pinpricks of electricity down her sweat-slicked body.

“Uuunnghhhh.” He grunted with one final thrust, leaving his cock buried within her as he moved up across her body, between her parted legs, which fell down around his back in submission. Her own body, giving in and giving up.

She felt it then. The soft planted kiss on her stomach. Then another, above. Wet kisses. Sloppy kisses. Hurried, passionate kisses but still somehow appealing, arousing, stimulating.

She felt the wet kisses grow closer to her tits, her nipples achingly hard in anticipation, longing for his mouth on them but at the same time, cursing him, wishing him away into some pit of eternal darkness where he can’t keep his hold on her. He needed – no, SHE needs – to break this link, this connectivity between them because the moment his lips slip over her nipple, the moment his tongue swirls against her eager flesh, she knows, somehow and someway, she would not only lose herself but all semblance of self.

The restraint she had been clinging to, the one that lashed out at him, would be shattered and she would give in, utterly, to that pleasure.

And would that be such a bad thing? A voice spoke up in the back of her mind, smooth like velvet.

Would that be so bad, to fall into delicious decadence?

She found herself trembling, body breaking out into sweats, as she felt his kisses grow nearer to her breasts.

The voice in the back of her mind seemed nearer as well, louder.

Is this version of you such a terrible thing? How do you know? Why don’t you try it?

Silky voice, dangerous voice. Stay away. Stay away from me.

“No.” She spoke softly, barely a whisper.

His lips brushed the curve of her left breast. Her body quivered underneath his touch, heart racing on overdrive.

“No!” She repeated, louder this time. “Don’t.”

She could feel her body sinking into the bed, as if she would slip into the sheet itself and into a realm of deep blue nothingness. She could feel her mind splintering, cracks set to ripple across the very fabric that makes her exist.

“Don’t.”

His tongue hit her nipple, suckling it into her mouth, and she fell through the cracks of her world.

She could feel it. She could feel the nipple slip into his mouth, raw flesh grating ‘neath his teeth.

Some semblance of her, some fragment, wanted to be bitten, to be rendered useless by such a bite, but her mind was focused wholly on Him, on his mouth on her, on his cock that fit everything so snuggly deep within her.

She belonged to him, utterly, deep in that moment.

On My Mental Health & Nudity

Getting naked and being naked was a part of my journey into becoming more at ease with my sexuality. It was another piece of the puzzle in learning how to hold on to that confidence for myself. It was about learning to rewire my thoughts so I can learn to overcome my insecurity.

I can’t really put my finger on why that it is. Maybe it was because I spent my childhood on acres of bush land and developed a primal way to living. Maybe it was because I was raised in a conservative catholic household and nudity carried with it a sense of exhilaration, of something I shouldn’t be doing but am getting away with – something I still feel and know that others still feel in their own exhibitionist explorations.

Nudity was more than that though. It allowed me to confront my own sexuality and my own thoughts on kink and BDSM. It felt like a scalding shower, like I was stripping away the bullshit and there was nothing left but my vulnerable mind, raw and reeling.

I know being comfortable with my nudity was a turning point for me. I took nude selfies on Fetlife, challenging my perceptions. It helped that randoms found these photos and responded to him positively – but I feel that the real hurdle was just putting them online, of taking that dangerous leap into the unknown. Because the unknown is terrifying when we stare back into it, until we start to inch forward day by day – or even take that plunge.

Nudity allowed me to be in touch with all sorts of animalistic thoughts, some born from the exhilaration buzzing through me, some bubbling to the surface. By stripping away my clothes, I felt this weird sense of being in communion with the world around me. I felt positively charged. I felt good about exploring my racing thoughts as I was naked because I learned to sit with them. Day by day, I sat with them for a few minutes in a hour. Then I did that again the next day.

I resisted it in the beginning, feeling guilty and gross and nauseated. I felt that I wanted to hide away. But in the end, long story short and after much resistance and baby steps, I pieced together how I felt, thereby confronting my own insecurities.

When a new dominant or submissive writes in to me and asks about the ways in which they can confront their own feelings, I often recommend a period of reflection in the nude. As a mentor, I’ve recommended what has worked for me. And sometimes it helps or feels worthwhile for the individual, sometimes it doesn’t work at all. Everyone is different.

For me, growing at ease with myself and learning how to own this insecurity within myself meant coming to terms with the shape of my body. There’s a lot of things connected to nudity for me – my animalism, my dominance, my comfort. It was all knitted together from childhood, left for me to examine years later.

These days, I still feel silly or shy, but these moments are fleeting. I know my mind now and diffusing negative thoughts has become a little easier.

In Which I’m Asked If I Have A Preference On Who I Discuss BDSM With

Today I was asked, by a newcomer to the world of BDSM, if I mainly liked to focus on people who wanted to be dominant or if I happily spoke to those interested in submission as well.

It’s such a good and important question that I wanted to share it here for anyone who was new but couldn’t find their voice to reach out on any of the communities.

Back in 2017 when I first thought I was educated enough in the lifestyle to actively mentor, I found a post out there in the internet which stated those who felt their dominance should speak to a dominant and those who felt their submission should speak to a submissive for their respective training.

And I agree to a certain extent. I simply cannot help when it comes to any deeper yearnings that a submissive may have because I don’t have those natural or developed instincts. I can relate through my own yearnings and I can identify – I can even help teach someone what I learned in a purely objective manner – but I don’t have that perspective of feeling and being submissive.

Beyond that, I think that it is useful to talk to both personalities – and different people – to see how different people think and approach the same concepts of Kink and BDSM. It’s endlessly fascinating.

I personally don’t have a preference when it comes to who I talk to or help out. Whether it’s a man or a woman I do not mind, nor am I put off by nationality or background and interests. My view is that I am happy to answer any questions. Some people want to ask me about my background, some people want to ask about my anxiety, some people just have questions about the lifestyle.

I look at it like this – I may not have all the answers and I may not be in tune with your personal preferences but I’ll help as much as I possibly can and I’d be happy to talk through your thoughts and feelings, as much as you are comfortable with. For some people, hell, for most, it’s not easy coming forward and talking openly. I understand that all too well and try to be there as much as I can until they feel a little more comfortable and can ask their questions.

I genuinely love helping or talking with both sides – though I do hear more from people who identify as submissive, I’m always down to talk to a person who wants to discuss how to be dominant in the bedroom or other such concepts of dominance as well – anything that lil’ ol’ me can help with.

50 MORE Things You (Probably) Didn’t Know About Me

When I did a ‘50 things you might not know about me’ people seemed to respond to it really well. Sometimes I even get questions in my email about who I am outside of Kink. Hopefully these help shed some light on that for any of you!

1. I’m currently naked right now.

2. Tall, Dark and Dominant isn’t just a tongue-in-cheek name for a blog, it’s also a vague description of my physical appearance and self.

3. The sub-heading ‘Inside the mind of a dominant male’ was the suggestion from a reader when I first began the blog. I liked it enough it’s been there ever since.

4. In my ‘50 things…’ post, I mentioned being an avid film buff and reader, but what do I enjoy watching and reading? I will read anything you recommend my way to give it a chance but my favourite genres are horror, epic fantasy and gothic fiction. The same could be translated into my film tastes!

5. I’m introverted. I live a quiet life working from home with my animal friends. To add to this, my lady is extroverted so that makes for challenging – but worthwhile – functions with friends and extended family.

6. I find certain atmospheres stimulate my brain and either make me incredibly hyper OR incredibly horny. So – a jazz bar in New Orleans, a small town carnival, late night shopping. Maybe I’m just a creature of the night. Huh.

7. Sometimes being primal can feel lonely, or maybe that’s a by-product of my depression. It’s a strange feeling that comes and go like the flows of life. It’s a strange thing.

8. Around 2017-2018, I spoke a lot about a desire to mentor and even offered that to anyone, explaining that it’s more of a lifeline to touch base and talk things over that they may not feel like they can to people around them.

9. The best thing about mentoring for me was that I could – for whatever reason – put the feelings of others into structure that made sense. I keep in touch with the people I’ve helped and am happy to hear from them about how they are finding things, while also answering anything they have to ask.

10. The worst thing about mentoring was my sense of persecution complex / imposter syndrome. Or that I was interfering with lives in a way I shouldn’t. It’s why I stopped for the longest while.

11. My favourite colours change on my mood. I like a deep red and a deep blue but I also tend to feed off of purple and emerald. Not to mention the shade of black.

12. I almost drowned at two seperate times in my life.

13. Speaking of 13, I’m superstitious with a lot of things. I make sure I’m in bed before 3am, the witching hour. I try not to walk under ladders.

14. I challenge my sense of low self-esteem by taking nudes. That’s actually how I became comfortable with being on Fetlife – by putting myself out there and embracing the more wild side of myself.

15. I’m still a little shy at moaning, until I get carried away and my primal self comes out.

16. If you were to open my Spotify right now, you’d find a mix of heavy metal, jazz, ambient jams and 80s glam rock.

17. Inspiration strikes me in the strangest moments – through a sexy nightmare, through watching movie of a woman skinny dipping.

18. I like to write erotica that’s explicit in its vulgarity and confronting – to me, anyway – in how it explores the mind of its characters. My main hope is, if it isn’t at least engaging and thoughtful, it will be sexy still in some way.

19. Speaking of 80s glam rock, I once did a strip tease to a Guns N’ Roses song.

20. I’ve spent literal years challenging myself to be outspoken and not painfully shy to the point that some misconstrue me as cocky or overly boisterous.

21. I come from a musical family. Originally I wanted to play the saxophone but I went into piano because I wanted to learn Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in D Minor. How I discovered that piece, no idea. I WANT to say an old universal horror movie but I can’t say. Anyway, I got as far as learning the entirety of Toccata and the first few minutes of Fugue before I got distracted by highschool. I still remember the part of the piece I learnt but have yet to get around to learning the entire 8ish minutes.

22. But yes I listen to classical music. Bach, Beethoven and Mozart are my favourites. I love the expression of mood and how grandiose they made music feel.

23. Moonlight Sonata, Requiem and Clair De Lune are up there among my favorite pieces. They probably will give you an idea about my tastes and moods too.

24. I support the Chicago Bears in the NFL.

25. If I could have any super power, it’d be really hard to resist the idea of flying but I think I’d go invisible. And be a terrible voyeur.

26. I love licorice Icecream. No one has yet to agree with me on that one. Huh.

27. I really love helping people. I hate the idea of anyone feeling alone and frightened and like they’re the only one who feels the way they do and, as crazy as it sounds, I would talk to that person as long as they need to. I still have to tell some who approach me personally to please don’t apologise for asking a question. I understand that feeling all too well.

28. I applied to university for the one course each year for three years before they let me in. Four years later I graduated from that university.

29. While thinking of something for 29, I got sidetracked by the idea of a submissive tied to a table while a sybian relentlessly assaulted their pussy.

30. I always enjoy meeting new people who I come across through my blog.

31. Though I ALWAYS fear I will just keep talking and piss them off.

32. My favorite pair of underwear for myself is a vintage-styled Mickey Mouse artwork piece.

33. BDSM can calm my soul at times.

34. I am still a painfully shy Dominant. I love to cum on my lady’s tits but I’ll wrestle with some self-loathing on my not-so-great days.

35.One of my favorite animals is an anteater.

36. I dream intensely, in many colors and genres – Sex dreams are visceral and breath-taking, nightmares wake me up yelling at things and weird dreams inspire my writings.

37. I’m teaching myself Spanish, slowly but surely. I converse in a clunky manner but early days.

38. I love Mexican culture – the food, the sights, the music and I’m partial to the men and women from there. I’m secretly hoping to meet a Mexican reader one day and yes, I realize that sounds weird.

39. I go through different phases where I really want to learn about something – American politics, The Peloponnesian War, Henry James’ entire bibliography, small town football in America, the mind of someone in the BDSM lifestyle – let alone the mind of someone at all.

40. I still haven’t gone to any munch or kink function where I live, partly because anxiety, partly because there’s a weird aspect I sense of myself where I’m private and shy and socially awkward but also just more of a quiet loner.

41. I live in suburbia, which sometimes makes the primal in me very frustrated. I often want to strip down naked and go for heart-pounding runs but I can’t.

42. My spirit animal is either a bear or a sloth. My lady says Bear because I scratch myself against sharp corners of the house, roam cupboards for food and generally like to nap.

43. I really need to get better at exercising.

44. You’ll never bother me if you ever want to write in to me – to shoot the shit, to ask a question, whatever the case may be. For some, even me, It’s hard to get to a place where you’re comfortable expressing to a stranger, but the offer is always there for anyone. I promise and beseech you if it ever gets tough.

45. The show I’m currently watching on Netflix is The Dark Crystal / The Good Place / Riverdale.

46. I like to bite certain people.

47. When I was eight, my teacher complained that I wasn’t paying attention in class because I was too busy writing stories. And here I am.

48. To this day, I am in complete shock at my life. I don’t understand how I won over a beautiful lady, let alone a submissive lady in sync with my mind, I don’t understand how you readers really enjoy my work, I’m still in shock people write in from time to time for whatever reason. I feel like my life has been the biggest fluke – but…I’ll never stop giving my thanks and doing my part back to the universe.

49. I used to get up at the crack of dawn as a small kid to watch my favourite animated movies.

50. I kinda wish I was more talented with a camera so I could collaborate with minds to take some beautiful erotic / bdsm photos. The conservative catholic in me feels really guilty about that at times but I keep thinking how beautiful would it be to work creatively with someone else’s mind on a concept that could be vintage or fantastical or epic or romantic. But then I realise that’s a dream for an alternate reality me.

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.

Please Don’t Hesitate To Write To Me

Every now and then I’ll come into contact with a reader who might express that they took several tries to write in to me before they actually did. Some say they they never would if I didn’t reach out first.

I wholeheartedly understand. It’s hard to communicate about something so personal and intimate and overwhelming. Especially to a stranger.

There have been many times – and I’m sure there are many times to come – where I’ve tried to write a blog post and I’ve deleted several drafts because I’m fidgety and awkward and I feel stupid.

If you’re reading this, and you have wanted to write to me but put it off because of – age, inexperience, maybe English isn’t your first language, maybe you think you’re too weird or I’ll shun you. I’ve even had some tell me that they don’t feel they have a lot of worth and can’t possibly write to me – please don’t let that train of thought get the better of you. Especially with someone like me, who does not judge for any of those things whatsoever.

One of the goals in creating this blog, besides harnessing my own darkness and desires, was to help those like me who felt they were truly alone and had no support. I wanted to offer the opportunity where a person – regardless of sex, identity, tastes, race or experience – could feel free to write to me – to say hello or ask for a perspective or to just shoot the shit, as they say. I love meeting people and helping if need be – I live for it.

So please don’t ever be afraid to approach me, please don’t be afraid of your voice or your interests or who you are. And please don’t put me above yourself, on some higher platform, because I’m just Aussie guy writing on the Internet. As far as I’m concerned, you and I? We’re equals.

And this all extends, not just to writing in to me, but to being yourself as well. Love yourself. Cherish who you are, all dark thoughts and everything that comes with that electric realm of possibilities – because let me tell you, that’s a magical and beautiful thing.

My email or twitter or Instagram is always open. It never closes. There’s never a bad time to write, I’ll never get annoyed by your approach and I certainly won’t be too busy to write a respond to you. I will say this – I am scatterbrained. I’m a man with one foot in the dreamscape and the other in reality. If I don’t respond, it’s because I’m off in my own world planning devious things. I’ll reply before you know it.

Anyway. Here at the end of Easter long weekend, I wanted to write this to the person that may or may not hesitate to write in. Don’t be afraid of this part of yourself, it’s a beautiful thing.

Take care!

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.