Her Bath

He hears the splash of water from their en-suite bathroom and turns to see her standing in the low-lit doorway. Her nude body, slender and slightly tanned is lit by the very candles she lit for her own bath – the bath he ordered her to run and soak in.

He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, hand marking the page of the book he’s reading to her while she bathes. Only now that book drops to the floor. He doesn’t do it to punctuate the moment with a gag, it’s just something that happens upon seeing her.

“Seeing her.”

He feels like he is seeing her now for the very first time. It’s in the way the candles light the edges of her nude body, the way her wet hair lay in curls across her shoulders, the way he can just make out beads of water across her neatly-trimmed pussy.

And it’s in the way she stands – confident, still, her eyes not flicking back and forth between his as they do at times but watching him closely. Intently.

He gets the feeling something has suddenly started between them. A battle of wills, a clash of their minds. It is true this occurs between them, this is what has drawn him to her as a friend and lover and Dominant.

And yet…something feels different. Super-charged. Riding the wave high on caffeine.

He feels the rhythm of his heart in his chest and he feels his cock harden.

There it is! The slightest twitch in her eyebrow. The slightest smirk flickers on her face and is gone. She’s playing with him as he would with her.

“Do I have something on my face?”

Her voice is soft but it comes with an edge that he recognises.

He won’t bite though.

“Get on the bed.”

He’s thankful his arousal doesn’t cause his voice to stammer.

She moves past him and he sees that thing she does – the shrug without lifting her shoulders but it’s all there on her face. One might call him crazy for thinking that but he knows and she knows what she’s doing.

She slinks on to the bed, her slightly sun-kissed ass facing me in the darkness. Were it not for the purple night light resting on her bedside drawers, He could see the little things – the freckle on her left ass cheek. Or her trimmed pussy between her legs.

She lowers herself down so that she rests on her stomach and buries her head in her pillow.

As He grabs his own towel, hanging from the door of their cupboard to his left, He gets the strangest sense that she’s grinning to herself as her face is buried. He almost wants to ask but stops himself before the words form on his tongue. He knows she would like that.

Slipping out of his pants and freeing his aching cock, he gently crawls onto the bed behind her, careful of where her legs rest naturally.

He comes to kneel behind her, her ass directly below the throbbing head of his cock.

“We need to towel you off properly.” He says as he runs the cream coloured floral-printed towel over her right ass cheek, carefully dabbing at her still-wet skin.

“You didn’t answer me when I asked you if something was on my face.”

Her voice is muffled as she speaks into the pillow but he can hear the accompanying smile behind her words all the same.

“I don’t answer to you.” He says, moving the towel to her left ass cheek.

Carefully he runs the towel down her left leg, taking his time to work down to her feet, drawing out the moment.

When he reaches her ankles, he moves into her right leg, sliding the towel back up, carefully drying off the sides of her leg, to her ass.

She does not stir.

He raises the towel to the base of her spine and lowers himself to her, his hard cock skimming the curves of her ass. The feeling of her beneath him, his shaft pressing into her fresh, cool skin, makes him want to take her from behind, makes him want to hear her moan those soft cries and whimpers.

But he has her body to dry off.

“Arms up.” He says gently as he slides the towel to the base of her neck, content that he has dried her back.

She stretches her hands out either side of her neck and her body seems to lift and waken a moment as the stretch takes over her. He see her back raise, feels her ass nestle back into him. He wants to guide his cock into her right there – wants to fuck her till she’s winded — but he’s not done playing with her yet.

With his right hand, he presses down on her back, pressing her away from him, her ass away from his cock. He grinds into her on his own terms.

Which is exactly what he does as he runs the towel gently under her armpits, wrapping her arm in the towel and sliding it along upwards to her hands so that he dries every inch.

He repeats this with her right arm.

Then tells her to roll over.

She does – and the two of them come face to face for the first time in what feels like an age.

He throws the towel to the empty side of the bed and rests his hands on either side of her. His eyes travel down to her small tits – dotted with freckles. Her little pink nipples are hard and stiff. He wants to lower his mouth to them and suck them. He feels that hunger more so as he feels the heat from their bodies.

God how he wants her more then anything.

Instead, he looks her in the eye, not being able to help the smirk that spreads across his lips.

She looks back at him, her face unreadable and her eyes ever still.

“What now?” She asks him.

If I Could Say A Few Words…

Last week I was lucky enough to be part of Domsubliving’s article on advice from Dominants out there in the blog world – and it got me thinking about other things I would like to tell newcomers or just to people out there coming to terms with their place in the lifestyle.

I want to elaborate on what I wrote and say that you should go easy on yourself. It’s okay to make mistakes so long as you take the experience of it and learn from it so you can apply it to the future.

It’s okay to wear your heart and kinks on your sleeve – it is okay to be YOU. I struggled with this particularly because I thought I was insane for thinking darkly. I’d sit in a darkened car park awaiting a pizza to be cooked and my mind would cook up the image of a woman face down in the concrete, nipples hard and scraping into the grit.

What I’m saying is – it’s okay to think and feel darkly, so long as you understand the lines between right and wrong across fantasy and reality – and this extends to the concepts of D/s.

It takes time to find what works for you as a dominant or submissive and it takes time to break through what we were taught as children to fully realise who we are as a dominant or a submissive. I know this because I was raised Catholic and I still struggle to be domineering and forceful because I’m so apologetic.

And this apologetic side can spread to other aspects of our lives. I unfortunately see this in some readers – some of them come my way and apologise for being annoying when they’re nothing of the sort. It’s why I like to put up a reminder that anyone of any background can chat with me, that I welcome it. That still stands, if you’re reading this and have wanted to chat with me but have put it off out of fear. I promise you are not too much.

But you see, I can’t just promise that – you have to do that for yourself. You have to learn to accept these aspects of yourself and recognise the lines between your Dominant / submissive self.

It’s something that can be with you all your life, learning to be secure and yourself. It takes time finding that balance and coming to be at peace with that balance – but it can be done.

On Inexperience, Writing & Self-Exploration

I’ve been pondering about a question that came my way…gosh, a few months ago now I think? Time has been weird lately – but it was about whether someone who is new to BDSM could write about it, fictional or otherwise, successfully? Or have it be correct in any way?

I’ve been thinking about experience a lot – when it comes to BDSM. I’ve been in a bit of a teacher / mentor mood, I guess, because someone new to the lifestyle wrote in to me and expressed frustrations about being ghosted by a potential Dom due to a lack of experience.

I can’t say I agree with that reasoning but I certainly understand how one could come to think like that. But I digress.

I think that when it comes to writing about BDSM, it’s important to trust in where your mind wants to go, do you understand? Because when you put pen to paper, you ignite your mind. You form a sentence. Then another one. Then you create a paragraph.

Or you don’t. Instead, your heart’s a mess and so is your writing. But it’s down, it’s on the screen or the page and you’ve trapped it. Whatever is in your head is there, frozen in time. A symbol of YOU.

What I’m saying is – writing is cathartic. And through exploring it, you’ll find pieces of your self, through which you night learn some truths about your tastes.

And if you want to write about a specific moral scenario – a rape fantasy, say – do what feels right to you. It’s only a fantasy. But if that’s not enough, write your thoughts on it in a seperate file or page. Explore how you feel about whatever it is you are confronting. Hell, ask the community. Ask me, my door is open.

Regardless of inexperience. Or shyness.

Writing…whether you want to and you’re either a dominant or a submissive or both, it’s about discipline. It’s about sitting down and confronting structure. Not just of words but of your mind. So find a time in the day to write 300 words. Do it again the next day. Leave each break on a moment you are excited to come back to. In a week, you’ll have a decent chunk of the story or your thoughts out.

As for that pesky experience thing, that’s another realm of variables. What if you are knowledgable enough about BDSM but aren’t in a circumstance to explore physically to gain more of an understanding of your wants and needs?

The best answer I have for that is one that might not be to your interests. When I was alone – a lonely dominant, I guess you could say, I peered into the depths of my sexuality. I explored and became comfortable with nudity. I explored my pain threshold, my comfort with verbal degradation. I found new ways to heighten masturbation. Little things that excited and stimulated my mind.

Everybody is different though and to that, one must find what works for them. But still, I think there are things you can do to gain experience.

Please don’t let shyness deter you. Or your writing. Or your self-exploration. Or from reaching out to a friend, the community, a Dom or sub or even me. There’s no easy way to say this but you’re going to have to jump into that pool if you want to write or to reach out. And just like coming up for air after that plunge, it all feels a little bit better after you jump.

Seriously though. You’ve got this.

BDSM Social Media and Our Own Anxieties

I was scrolling along Fetlife the other day and a thought occurred to me of how awkward it can be for newcomers to make friends or meet someone or even work up the courage.

I mean, that shit is hard enough without the BDSM interests and desire to converse with others in the lifestyle, not to mention the interests in wanting to put yourself out there but finding yourself frozen.

Fetlife can be a great way to get to know others and to get involved in the community but it certainly can be awkward at first, especially if you’re like me and can be incredibly anxious in social situations and so forth. Or just straight up shy.

A good thing to remember is to go at your own pace. You can push yourself in tiny increments but only if you feel comfortable talking in the group settings or going to munches or other such events.

If you feel overwhelmed with it all, do not feel bad or silly or like you can’t ever be kinky. Some have those thoughts – I know I did – but it’s important to recall that we all grow in our own ways at different times.

If you’re ever unsure about what you want or what is proper etiquette when it comes to being spoken to or speaking to someone – there are communities out there that can be helpful. Reddit has a good community for this, with its own BDSM sub-reddit for advice. There are still some small communities across Instagram, Twitter and Tumblr – even post-infinity snap.

Working on or identifying what is making you feel anxious or inferior or weird can help you feel a bit more confident. Tell yourself that what you are thinking and feeling is okay and has certainly been thought of before, by those around you and long before you too. Make a habit of it.

Me? I did it with nude selfies. I felt unattractive (still do at times) and I fought it – and my guilt at liking kink – by putting up nude selfies and experimenting with risky photos of myself. It helped boost my confidence.

Take it from a guy that grew up in a severe, sexually repressed and conservative catholic household and now has the time of his life with rape fantasies. You’re going to feel guilty, weird and insane but don’t let those feelings own you. They will fluctuate and pass. See it as you’re exploring a fantasy within safe parameters.

Keeping a journal can be a productive way of keeping track of your thoughts – or of trapping them to the page where you can digest them and reflect upon them. Writing your thoughts down can lead to truth and clarity. Sometimes it’s good to just write a fantasy, even if you can’t write well, just give it a go and see where you end up. All of this made me feel a bit more peaceful and a bit less chaotic and maybe it’ll help you too.

Maybe Fetlife or other social aspects of the BDSM community isn’t for you and that’s fine. I don’t go to munches or events because it’s not really my thing. People are wired differently.

But if social anxiety or doubt or insecurity is gnawing at you and you want to drop into these things, just remember you can take baby steps to challenge yourself and no one will judge you for it. You are the captain of your own soul.

In These Times

In these crazy times, I have to keep to some semblance of my dominant self. I have to practice what centres me, my soul or my essence, and exercise discipline and restraint within myself.

I like to undress. To feel my clothes just drop from my body, skimming my skin as they make their way down to the floor. I like to practice my breathing – breathe in slowly, one. Two. Three. Exhale slowly – Remember my place in the world, my place in relation to the space around me, to the environment around me.

I wish I had a forest to run through naked. To feel the grass whip at my legs, feel the sun beating down on me, the crisp air barreling down into my lungs, the sweat slicking my skin and hair. But that’s a wish. That’s where my mind travels to when I close my eyes and feel my nakedness in the privacy of my bedroom.

Being in self-imposed isolation, it’s important for me to maintain the rituals that satiate the other parts of my mind – the beast that I had to wrestle to form a balance. It’s important not to lose sight of that unexplainable magic within ourselves, which no words can do justice to.

In these crazy times, it’s important to maintain that balance with my kitten – to create solace for her but to also be sad with her, to weather through her storm and come out the other side and shelter her. Before our two wild animals within play-fight.

You are not alone out there. We’re all in this together. Don’t let panic hop in the driver’s seat, don’t lose sight of who you were before and we’ll get through this together.

So This Blog Has Been Running For Five Years Today.

^ I never used to be comfortable with choking until my current partner, my kitten, egged me on like the low-key shit stirrer she knows she can be. That’s why I used this picture. Once upon a time, I used to squirm at choking. I used to feel nothing but distraught and guilt. I still do but now, at least, it comes with a level of horniness, precise control and sadistic glee.

But hello! Happy Thursday! According to WordPress, today marks the five year anniversary of this here blog. Since I’m sentimental about time measurement, I thought I’d indulge in a little note here.

I can’t start a sentence with a ‘I just want to thank…’ without thinking I’m accepting an award BUT I do genuinely want to thank each and every reader out there – the lurkers, the ones who found the courage to ask questions for themselves, the ones who trusted me enough to take me on as a mentor – or life coach, I suppose. Or is that lifestyle coach? Either way, I thank you for your endless support, your constructive criticisms, your challenging and friendly debates and your presence alone.

This blog has been an invaluable source of inspiration and growth for me, as has the people who comment in because concepts have arisen that have helped me reflect upon myself – such as that time I co-wrote a piece with a fellow writer about sadism and why I’m that way. But I feel like I’m still growing and finding things out about myself.

If I learned one thing about this experience, as both a human and a dominant, it’s that writing out my thoughts and reflecting has helped. So don’t let time slip by you. Challenge your thoughts, be who you want to be. Write for yourself. And don’t forget, as long as I’m running this weird blog, you’re never out of an anxiety buddy or someone to unload to!

One last thing. I’m always open to suggestions or things you’d like to see a focus on for this blog. If there’s something you’d like to hear about, let me know! Because chances are, it’s a window open for me.

I’m Gathering Questions for a later Q/A so Ask Me Anything!

Hullo ladies and gentlemen!

We’re at the end of February, seasons will be shifting soon and moods will be changing. I thought that now would be a good time to put it out there that I’d love to do another Q/A with my readers – new or regular.

Anything goes, really. There’s no boundaries to anything you want to ask. It can be about your own journey, it can be about me or something I’ve written, it could be about something you want me to write about, it could be questions about dating or D/s or — anything. For me, as long as you’re comfortable, the sky is the limit!

Please feel free to ask via commenting below or you are always welcome, submissive male or female, dominant female or male, slave, pet, newbie – whoever! – to write to me personally. You can reach me at my Twitter or at my email – darkanddominant@hotmail.com

I’ll be hoarding questions and answering them sometime in this last week of Feb so don’t worry about having too many. The only silly question is the one not asked!

Have a beautiful weekend!

In Which I Ramble About Primal Spirituality

I can’t blame people for thinking that being primal and feeling primal is all about pet play and all that entails. After all, in the beginning, when I didn’t know better, that’s where my mind jumped to.

But readers….goodness, it is so much more than that.

Ever since identifying as a primal here on this blog, I’ve had people ask me what it means exactly, and I’ve had many a philosophical discussions, some that move towards the analytical. To seek to understand.

I had an encounter today – think native Americans and howling – that triggered this feeling within me. A fondness for running wild, the wind on my skin, heart racing in my chest, howling until my throat was raw.

Being primal for me isn’t just a sexual fetish that I happen to enjoy, it’s almost a way of life, a wild feeling deep within me that wants to roam. It isn’t restlessness, not anymore (though I did feel that with my ex wife), but it’s more that I feel like being out in the wild, in communion with nature and other wild free ones such as myself. It’s a feeling where I want to go sit around a fire, worry about nothing and enjoy the evening and all of its splendour. It’s wanting to live, not exist, in this environment.

I struggle to explain the feeling, I know. I’ve talked in circles with people who ask and I feel bad about it because they ask me in the first place. It’s just this deep feeling that comes about. Of being in a tribe or a pack, of being one amongst a few other wild ones. It’s this and a whole bunch of other things. A need to howl till my throat is raw, to beat my chest and hoot.

Sometimes it even comes to identifying as an animal. A wolf or a bear perhaps. Because, see, you start to feel like there’s characteristics there within you. Traits like the animal. And maybe there are.

I used to think I was crazy for thinking this. It sounded delusional, to liken yourself to a wild animal, to feel animalistic sometimes. But then I discovered it was common in primal people. It’s so common that there exists packs of close friends, people that run together and hang together. I wasn’t alone.

And, at the end of a day, it goes deeper than just being primal. Because kink and BDSM can be spiritual for each and everyone of us. And sometimes we don’t know why we are drawn so deeply to it, we just FEEL it. Like an epiphany swelling in our chest. It’s there and raw and unfiltered and you shouldn’t shy from it, you should let it wash over you.

So if I had to end this day, and this piece, for you, dear readers of my blog, to which I’m eternally grateful for, then I want to end this moment with a little note: You are not crazy. You never were. This is just another piece of the puzzle. Take care of yourself. I’m always a message away if you feel like you are going stir crazy.

The Interview

Dear Lord, I can still see her in my mind, sprawled out on the chocolate leather couch of my home theatre. I can still picture her eyes, the lightest green I’ve ever seen, looking at me in a way that feels vaguely fox-like.

Freckles are splashed across her fair skin sporadically. Her hair – the faintest colour of orange – falls across her arms, drapes across her small breasts.

Her breasts…like Snow White, only her nipples are ruby coloured, hardening for me as they are.

And Dear Lord, I can still see her pubic hair. Do you know how torturing it is, this gift you’ve given? I can see her slit when I close my eyes, down to a single red hair.

I can see her pubic hair, like a slash of fire across her slit. When she shifts her legs, for a second I can see her arousal glisten underneath the soft lights.

I remember asking me something, leaning back on the couch, because I remember thinking that the scene reminds me of The Graduate, but I couldn’t tell you what words she spoke, only that her voice sounded silky smooth, with a playful edge.

Why did she come to my home? Why does she interview me in my home theatre, notepad once across her lap before she started to undress.

Why was so she patient, as the unseen man behind the curtain drew me away from the home Theater – to see to my meddling cat, to address a question to my meddling guests. Don’t they see that I have questions to answer to this lady myself?

I think what perplexes the most, as I ease my cock into this woman, is how much I wanted her.

God, has anything ever felt any better than when I ease into her tight, wet snatch? Has anything ever felt better on my ears, to hear her moan in time to my thrusts?

God…Satan…Angels…Devils…don’t watch me consume this woman, don’t watch me sink into her skin as we become one with one another.

Who am I kidding? I can’t look away. Not from the watchful lightest green eyes of this woman.

Why does she want me so bad? Why me? What do those green eyes see?

As much as my cock is driven by the feeling of her each time I split her lips apart and slide in, I’m driven by the sight of her – sinking into the couch, twisting her head to the left to let out a moan, her hair across her shoulders in tangles.

Who is this cruel mistress? Who are you and why are you here? I want to ask her, but I’m transfixed by her with each move, unable to tear myself from her in the confines of the home theatre.

The interview will continue another time.

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.