Sensory Overload

All it takes is for her to duck into the lounge room where I’m resting, completely nude, in all her mesmerising glory, to grab a head band for her bath —
And my mind is transported away.
She is chained to the bedroom, completely naked, her arms and legs spread apart.

There’s a bag over her head. Something new. Me being sadistic by toying sensory deprivation. She won’t be able to see. She won’t be able to quell any concern with a kiss. How long should I leave her with the bag on? Perhaps when the air runs low, when her mind is dazed, I could bring her to the brink of her orgasm — and as my mouth rests over her cunt, my tongue teasing her clit with small licks, I can remove the bag.

And as her senses rush back to her, her body seizes with all the power of an orgasm. 
The dizziness of the air rushing back to her melds with her pleasure. Maybe it’ll catapult her senses sky high. Maybe she might be elated. Soaring high into a space that’s beyond the norm but not beyond my reach.
I could bring her back with a gentle hug, soft words – and the reminder that I am in charge of her. And all that she is. 
And then I’m back in the lounge, a grin forms across my lips. I know just what to do. 

Wild At Heart

I wore clothes to bed for the first time in a while.
It was a particularly cold night in this here middle of winter Australian season. I thought to myself, I’ll just rug up. Sleeping nude can sometimes leave a chill and the last thing I want is to catch a cold. 
So I compromised. I took off my pants and left my shirt on. I figure keeping my chest warm was more important than my legs. 
For the first moments in bed, I was restless. My body screamed. An itch would snake its way up my back, under my right shoulder blade. Around and around in circles it slithered, knowing full well it was beyond the grasp of my arms as I tried to ease the itch. 
I tossed and turned, turned and tossed. I could feel the shirt construct me. Could feel the heat off my skin cooking underneath. Something didn’t feel good. Something didn’t feel right.
And the more I rolled left and right, the more my t shirt twisted beneath me, limiting my movements further. 
Enough was enough – I sat up and tore off my shirt and threw it to the space beside my side of the bed.
The feeling of peeling off the t shirt. Revealing bare skin, the cool middle of the night air skimming every surface of my body, the fact that I was naked…
My mind was instantly transported back to my youth. I had snuck away from the house, deep into the bush where I would undress. And run through the shrubs, feeling the wind on my body and a sense of freedom. I would masturbate there after a run. Feel my bare cock grow beneath my hands.
In that moment, I wondered how other people, those who enjoy nakedness, felt when they peeled off the last layer of clothing and felt completely and utterly naked in the world. 
In that moment, I thought of how it might felt for a woman to unclasp her bra and feel her breasts freed? The gentle breeze on a nipple, the feeling of them swaying as they are released. How a man might feel the air on his bare cock, how it might feel to touch that. 
I was reminded of a moment in time again: I had put a winter jumper on my pug. Moments later, I returned to the back yard to see she had removed it. She didn’t want it.
I, too, am the animal. Wild at heart, wanting not to be bound by clothes. Wanting to feel the world around on my skin.
And I have learnt my lesson – always sleep nude. 

Playing With Fire: A Daddy Dom Ramble

I’ve had a few drafts of what I want to say. I can’t figure out how to be precise with my words here. So expect some free form stream of consciousness.
I watched this show where a teenage girl was hovering her hand over an open flame, admittedly been through a lot, not to mention being a teenager in the first place. And my mind jumped to so many different tangents with the image. Experimenting with pain, sexual

Identity. Guidance. 
It kicked off this whole train of thought that is current doing the round. Which led me to writing it down here. 
I’m a Daddy. This much is true, whether it’s sexual or instinctive. Or darker. 

And I’m of two minds – one half trying to comfort this teenage girl while the other half helping her to experiment. Because experimentation, under watch, can be rewarding. So maybe my hand on hers, feeling the slight burn. No going back. Showing her that there is this whole side of things that you can practice as a form of therapy, if controlled in a healthy environment. 
And I’m not too sure why. 

I often wrestle with my animalistic impulses. I’ll shy away from the absurd because a handful of people understand and the rest don’t. 
I think the reason why this show has sparked feeling with me is partly because I was that experimental teen, dealing with pain – unhealthily at first. So when I see a teenager, male or female, struggling, I become that surrogate Daddy. Whether they like it or not. Because I can’t help it. And because my heart is too deep, or so they tell me. 
When I was first fully exploring my Dominant side, I met a teenage girl through Whisper going through a really rough time. I was 26 at the time. And she was flirtatious and sent nudes randomly. And I understood why. Or partly understood. 

I didn’t act. I didn’t want to. She was certainly attractive. Legal, if you’re mind is going there. But I could feel she was trying to justify something, her worth, herself, anything. And so I talked to her, told her politely as I could that the nude photo wasn’t necessary. 
And I don’t know why or how I came to it, but I saw her as a little sister. And whenever she texted me to vent, I would listen. Whenever she called, I would listen. 
And eventually, she stopped calling. We stopped talking, I didn’t bother her. I get it into my head I’m annoying – and a part of me felt guilty about the fact that I was even talking to her, because age. 
And age is weird. When my kitten was 16-17, I was 21. And I wouldn’t dream of dating her then….but now, it’s okay. Our minds are weird. Human, I guess. 
So when I see a teen or hear of a teen struggling, I see myself. I’m instantly transported to my days of discovery. And I guess that sparks on a transformation into a Daddy.
And I’m writing this all out because I feel like it needs to be said. I feel like there’s this sort of creep factor or age barrier that comes with the Daddy Dominant that misconstrues meaning. And I feel, a lot of the time, there’s a younger audience to my blog that needs to talk about something to a random who doesn’t know their friends or family. Who needs to hear they’re okay to experiment. 
Just like sometimes I need someone to tell me: it’s okay to feel like this. It’s an instinctual thing. You’re not a fucking creep. Even though, through writing this, I kinda feel like I am, you know?
So: the image of this girl testing the flame. It made me think of myself, it made me want to guide her, tell her things are okay. It made me want to walk the path with he while she opens the doors to discovery and sexual identity. 
This may be an 18+ blog, with mature themes, but I’d never turn anyone under 18 away. Because that person was once me. 

This is possession


What is it about seeing her peel off her pants and revealing that pretty ass that makes me want to bend her over the bed and have my filthy way with her?

I know I like claiming what is mine but this is possession right there. I’m not myself, I am somebody else. An animal. A maniac.

Summer. Heat. Sweat. Arousal.

Trust me to take something obscure and turn it sexual. 

This Australian heat, friends, is insane. 41 degrees Celsius it climbed too today and all I could do. Pretty much all I did do was lay in the darkness of my bedroom completely naked.

Just sitting, sweating, thinking. The sentence “heaving, lightly perspiring chest” might seem sexual to you…well, maybe not. But it wasn’t. It was humid and gross.

And yet. Writhing, sweaty bodies moving and dancing and buckling come to mind. 

The dance comes to mind. Brutal, passionate. Fiery, burning, breath taking, scorching. The bed sheets are slick with sweat. She coos while I suckle on her nipple with as much force as I can muster.

That happened, of course, later in the afternoon. Sweat trickled and glistened down our bodies as we played together in our little darkened bubble.

I came intensely, my cock throbbing as it emptied my load.

You know, for the life of me I can’t remember what I was talking about. Oh – that’s it. Summer certainly bites but this is the thing, sweaty rocking bodies in a particular rhythm? Totally sexy, totally sensual and totally worth it in the end.

Goodnight from Australia, for the international readers. Let the bed bugs bite and the naughty dreams roll on!

A Note To The Afraid Submissive

This is probably going to sound like a rant. Like a douche bag rant. Like a tirade that ignores a number of variables, some of which I probably couldn’t even dream of. But I’m going to write this anyway because I’m feel compelled.

I don’t like seeing shy and quiet submissive people afraid of becoming what they desire. I mean, not just women. Men, too. Men especially. I would probably guess there’s been a few men and women here afraid to speak up about their submissive tendencies.

Here’s the thing: you shouldn’t be afraid. Easier said than done, believe me – I know what it’s like to wake from a panic attack because of how you’re feeling. I went through that when I wanted to be in a D/s relationship – when I was in the wrong relationship. And it’s brutal.

But putting aside the fear for a moment – stop living in someone else’s skin. You may be [insert your name here] but you’re going to evolve into a redesigned version of her. Which means tearing off your skin.

We live in a society that doesn’t understand us, that wants to lump us in with the category of God knows what.

You know what? Tear off those clothes. I’m serious, go on. Stop looking at the screen and processing the text like I’m a nice little fable – tear off your clothes. People are home? So? You’re not alone though? The kids are around? fine, take your phone, tablet or computer to your safe zone and tear off your fucking clothes. That person underneath, the spirit that radiates warmth and excitement through your body. That’s you. That’s your essence, your sexuality, your beauty. Maybe you enjoy the sight of a bruise? Maybe you like your nipples pulled really fucking hard? This is going to be someone else’s instrument and you are going to love it. THIS is who
You are. This submissive soul right here. Don’t you dare second guess yourself.

Show of hands who did this? Who took the initiative? Good, I’m proud. The rest that didn’t, I expect you to follow through with this, despite the fear, because guess what? You’re beautiful, you’re sacred. You’re a temple someone will come along and worship.

Consider that activity a war cry, a beacon to others for empowerment. I want you all to practice, day by day, piece by piece, shedding your skin – till nothing is left but the new you. The true you. The submissive.

Maybe I’m deluded. Maybe I’m harsh. What I’m trying to do is enthusiastically push you all to where you want to be but are afraid to go. Because I’m here. Someone you probably know is here too. And we feel more complete after having gone through the journey.

So happy Sunday and remember to always embrace yourself despite what the little voice in your mind says back to you.

Shedding your skin in your BDSM lifestyle

Shedding your skin in your journey in life is quite important, I believe.
Getting comfortable with who you are and what you enjoy can be a long process for some and can stretch on for years, if you don’t combat that.
I’m talking things like building confidence within yourself: within your sexuality and who you are and what you love doing – either sexually or otherwise. But in this instance, let’s address sexual matters.

Nudity is a big thing we are afraid of. For whatever reason, the naked body is alarming and displeasing. If I had my way, I’d have everyone that was worried about it write in and talk to me about. Because this can go three ways: I can talk it over with you, from my alien outsider perspective, I can get you to practice being naked throughout your day, consider it an exercise – OR you can work on it step by step. Whittle away your insecurity.

I think it’s something that is spoken about in hushed tones and I think once you approach that with open eyes, you might learn something about yourself. There’s a beauty to nudity that’s not clear to a lot of folk.

I mean, just walking through the house naked can be a whole different experience altogether. The sensations, the breeze on your skin – the freedom.

If you’re on my site, I think you’re half way there but I think fear is a big obstacle that is in the way of some of you. So, in my highly caffeinated state that has probably rendered me unable to write a coherent post, what I’m saying is that I want you all to be comfortable, in your sexuality, in your sexual tastes, in your nudity. To climb out of bed naked of a morning and getting set to make breakfast in the nude, it can be something enlightening.

So do me a favour: try being nude one day during a week. For ten minutes, during your favourite tv show or a move. Or during your chores. Whatever it may be, try for me.