A Note For Anyone Too Hesitant To Write To Me

Okay, so – one thing I generally like to do on this blog (and probably do too much to the point I seem predatory) is encourage readers or lurkers to, if they want, write in – if they have feedback or a question they want a stance on or whatever the case may be.

The thing is – I’ve actually neglected one tremendously important aspect that can manifest in readers and still their mind from contacting. Recently a reader wrote in to me and, amongst other details, mentioned their hesitance in asking any questions out of fear of being too bold when – and here’s the kicker – they believe I give too much when they have very little to offer in return.

To anyone out there, adult or teenager, man or woman, I will say this – if you are on a similar thought path, thinking that you can’t take up my time because you have nothing to give back – that’s simply not true.

Firstly, don’t ever undersell yourself. Your presence or your words or even your company are all gifts in their own way. Don’t ever forget that.

I find meeting new people one of the great joys of running this blog. It’s a pleasure when anyone writes in because I’m grateful for the company and their trust in me.

As for me, I welcome bold questions. Some readers have challenged my perspectives and helped me grow through, others have given me feedback I can explore through the blog and I’m generally open about my sexuality and tastes and life – and if a line of questioning becomes too personal, I’ll tell you up front and honestly.

You may think I’m doing too much or being too selfless, but I don’t feel that. I just feel like an ordinary joe just doing what I can because it soothes a restless part of my soul.

So please never think you have nothing to give – you have everything to give, all that you are, all that you want to talk of, all that you’re passionate about. Don’t misinterpret that worth – and never worry you can’t approach me. I care not about inexperience or boldness or age or weirdness.

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.

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

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.

Lessons Learnt As a Mentor

It’s strange that I can go so long without talking to someone new to BDSM and D/s and then all of a sudden, a few people are reaching out to chat to me about their questions. Maybe it’s the season of change that brings it out of people this time of year?

I only ever considered myself confident enough to mentor regularly since 2017 and even then I wasn’t sure if I could actually legitimately help, even though you all have been lovely and encouraging to me in that regard anyway.

The real reason I’m writing is that talking to these people and feeling this gratitude for earning their trust, I wanted to talk about what I have learned as a mentor in the past year.

My most important lesson learned has to make sure that I’m not being influential for the wrong reasons. Mentoring is a bit like walking between objectivity and subjectivity and while I can share my own thoughts and feelings, I always ease off a little so as to let the individual process their thoughts and learn about the topic as is and not necessarily as how I perceive the topic – if that makes sense.

Another important lesson I learned was to give choice to the individual. Sometimes I get a bit passionate about helping people – I usually write a post about wanting to help every couple of months so people know my email isn’t dead – but I’ve eased off on that a bit now, letting people decide on their own if I’m trust worthy or someone they want to run questions by. And even then, let them decide if they want my presence as a Mentor?

Which has led me to just not offer it all of late. I’ve been a bit discouraged, feeling like more of a bother than a help, which led me to spiral into feeling like a sleazy / skeevy guy for offering my hand to people. So I just stopped.

It’s only till now that I’ve started mentoring again in somewhat of a full, weekly capacity, just being a guide on-standby that answers questions and offers opinions where I can.

I’m wary of it. It feels good to encourage and help people put a name to their feelings – but I guess I’ve spent too long discouraged to be fully on board with it again.

On Self-Harm, BDSM and Mental Illness

In an earlier 30 Days of Kink post, I talked a lot how I distanced myself from playing with blood as a kink because of my mental state at the time.

A fellow reader asked me to elaborate – and I wasn’t sure how I could, or what I could even say, but I thought I would attempt to talk a bit about it, in case there are those out there, lurking and anonymous.

I can’t really tell you why I began to cut myself when I was a teenager. I’m sure internet articles will tell you the basics about it – it’s a cry for help, it processes feelings, all that. I’m not disputing that, I’m just saying I’m not sure why it happened for me. Maybe I was making sense of the world and processing through my first real break up with a girlfriend – I don’t know. I was just drawn to it, seeing how much pain I could force onto myself.

What I can tell you is a girlfriend and I, a likeminded Kinky individual, began experimenting with knife play, right down to causing bleeding. I can still see her carving asterisks into her thigh as we both got off on it.

The thing was, this wasn’t knife play in a controlled safe environment – our heads weren’t in the right frame of mind. We were both dealing with depression, mine all the more sneakier by me not even realising it. Looking back I suspect I was so adamant to avoid my family’s line of depression that I refused to believe.

So knife play wasn’t a good idea for us because we were taking what should’ve been an isolated pain or pleasure experience and somehow using it to deal with what was bubbling underneath. I mean, I can’t speak for her, I’m just guessing at this point based on experience with her then and experience as an adult now. And, you know, my own personal thoughts.

The final straw came when I stabbed a pair of scissors into my arm. I could actually hear the skin pop as it was torn open. With that, I broke down, angry and ashamed and disgusted at myself. Nothing I can write will convey how torn up I was by this action.

So I stopped and never looked back on doing it again.

Could I engage in knife play? I could – to an extent. There would have to be limitations – no blood, for starters and no actual cutting so I guess it’d be more in line with role play – and I would initially struggle to not picture the moment with the scissors, but I could.

Yet I still struggle with thoughts of suicide. Sometimes I can picture – so vividly in my mind – hanging myself in the garage – but when such times come, I try to think on hope, try to remind myself I have family, I have a life – I have a beautiful lady who I would forever shatter if I did such a thing. And I think how my suicide would make the lives of my dearly loved so empty that my heart hurts and stills my mind.

So. Two things – if you’re like me and knife play has become a fetish, stop and be clear on why you are doing it, think on how healthy it is, think of ways in which you can explore alternative methods of pain and pleasure. Be sure as to how safe and controlled you are.

If you’re anxious and depressed and suicidal, remember you’re not alone. There’s no shame in seeking help, from your local help line, from a friend or family – or if you don’t have anyone, from me. You are never alone, no matter what.

This extends to anyone reading – be you new reader or old, regular lurker or new lurker, someone who has been trying to write the ‘perfect’ email instead of a rambles or if you think you are too old or young or whatever – please – if you want to write, if you need to write, just put it down all at once. You’re writing to a guy with a floordrobe so don’t worry about a mess – i don’t judge.

Be kind to yourselves and remember how important you are to the world.

The Healing Power of Nude Meditation

It seems my mind never switches off – and I say this because when I undressed and hopped into bed to the sound of rain on a tin roof playing on my phone, as is my sleeping ritual, I thought about the people out there, somewhere along their journey, anxious and alone and feeling like today is the day their mind will finally break.

I can’t help everyone, I know that. It’s impossible to. Sometimes you have to let people find their own way through their struggles. But that doesn’t stop me from trying, from offering a non-judgemental space to talk, to offer mentoring.

I thought about all this while my body went limp, while I felt the gentle breeze of the fan pass by my feet, left to right, right to left. I heard the rain, soft and relaxing, create a space for me, a dome in which I was perfectly safe.

If you’re out there, reading my words and we’ve yet to talk for whatever reason, might I suggest some sort of nude therapy? What’s a noise that you love, a noise so calming to you that it brings you to a halt? It could be the sound of the shower running, the ocean waves crashing into shore, birds in the forest, cars on the highway? Something soothing and sweet to your ears.

If you are ever anxious and the world feels like it’s about to crash around you, do me a favour and try something.

Find an app or a CD or something with your favourite sound, rid yourself of your clothes, find your favourite space in your house and lie down. Have a think about your body – what’s tense right now? Your shoulders? Your neck? Stretch out, flex those muscles, and let yourself go limp. Relax your entire body.

Think about how your body feels in the moment – the sheets around you, maybe a breeze on your skin – think about yourself in this space, free to be exposed to the air and the room and your favourite sounds.

Listen to your breathing. If you’re anxious, steady your breathing by breathing in. Hold. One. Two. Three. Release slowly. Wait. One. Two. Three. Breathe.

You’re a beautiful, liberated being – encased and protected in your favourite place and space. Forget about the outside, easier said than done I know, but in this moment, there is only you in this world, just as there is only me in the country side, laying in the grass and feeling the rain pelting my skin as I look up at the stars. I’m free, just as you are free.

Meditating has helped me in my most anxious times. It centres me, helps me breathe, helps me realise the truths about my life and where I am going. It’s not for everyone, and it takes practice, but if you are feeling anxious, down, hard on yourself and your body and your life, I recommend you try it.

And as always, if you are struggling, for whatever reason, remember you are not alone. There is a whole support system out there for you, even the hotlines – which I know are embarrassing to call but are full of lovely people. Talk to someone, a friend, a friendly stranger, me. My door’s always open.