The Importance of Being Naked


As you all know, though my blog is BDSM-centric, I also like to talk about the strands of connections surrounding such a BDSM-centric life – and one of these strands is nudity. Or rather being nude.

In searching for a picture for a story, another muse, I came across this article – titled Why My Female Friends Send Me Nudes by one Radhika Sanghani.

Now, I can’t possibly comment on the strand – the tangent strand that is ladies sending each other nudes. I’m not wired that way. But, if you care for it, you’ll find the article goes on to talk about body image and how the nude selfie has become a sort of form of empowerment for women – younger, older – everywhere. 

‘I think for a woman to grow up in our society and get to a place of body acceptance is a success, and I want to share that with my friends’

Writes a friend of the author. And as someone navigates the sometimes choppy waves of the lifestyle, I see this issue of body acceptance pop up quite often. After all, media and society demand we are penthouse-fit love models. And some people are either naturally alternative (meaning goth, emo, pierced or tattooed – or all four!) and some people are just naturally curvy — and this creates a problem.

The article had me thinking, I must admit. I don’t hear a lot about women sharing nudes with each other, not personally, but I see it on WordPress – and there’s Fetlife as well.

Sometimes it’s someone saying ‘this is my first time’, which makes me smile because I know they’ve faced their fears and won. And that is a huge accomplishment in my books.

And then other times, I will get an email from someone expressing their discontent in their bodies and it makes me sad because of the hateful thoughts that come out from within their minds.

Usually I will give them a few exercises they can try to feel more at ease in their skin – things like spending time nude around the house doing vanilla-type things. Cleaning the house, watching a movie. Reading. Things you otherwise might do with clothes on.

I do this because the very act of disrobing is confronting enough. I mean, you can feel it. You’re aware of it. And in time, maybe you can rewrite your brain to accept it and to not be aware. 

Sometimes, the people I give this exercise to find it useful. Sometimes they practice it on their own accord. Sometimes it takes a little more effort from their mind.

The point is – there’s an importance in being nude. It’s our very existence, yeah? The core of all that we are – the avatar we wear through this life.

It’s what our parents tell us is forbidden. It’s what society tells us needs to be better. It’s tied to our way of thinking more than we probably realise – with every little thing – tv and books and  magazines – telling us what is in.

So. If you’re an adult, if you’re a teenager. If you’re living with relatives, mum and dad, roommates. Man. Woman. Boy. Girl. If you’re having a hard time accepting your body – remember: you have the power to change that.

1. If you’re living at home or by yourself, it doesn’t matter – you can find the time to be nude when people are out, when it’s night. Grab yourself a blank exercise book and a pen, journal in the nude. When you look back, you might see the negative way of thinking. You can change how you think!

2. Meditate in the nude. Lay back, close your eyes and feel the world around you. It may sound cheesy – but being use to how you feel can help that inbuilt panicky nature of being absolutely naked.

3. Lastly, take a selfie of your body. Easier said then done, right? Oh I know. When I joined Fet, I tried so many times to take something of myself. I got there in the end, I felt comfortable but I tell you: It’s a long road. 

But in saying that, it gets easier. It may even be arousing.
We owe it to ourselves to love ourselves in this lifetime. It’s all that we have. 

Don’t let the world around you define you. Define yourself. Redefine how you feel. There’s always time.

For anything else, you know where to reach me personally.

 

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Dear Teenagers Nervous About BDSM…

When you’re a teenager and you’re navigating your sexuality, it can feel like the scariest thing in the world.

Who can you talk to? How do you learn? Can you talk to adults on the web or will they think you’re silly and turn you away like the others have? Worst case scenario: Will they abuse your trust and attempt to flirt with you?

It wasn’t easy in the age of no internet and it certainly isn’t easy now even with all this information at your fingertips ready to be absorbed.

As a perverted teenager into BDSM, I found my way by falling a lot. And often stood in circles listening to others laugh or frown at the very idea of BDSM and other such kink related things.

If things are overwhelming you, if you feel like you’re trapped and cannot talk to anyone without feeling ashamed or – worse – invalid – then I’ve got a few concepts for you to consider:

You’re Not Alone

Your sexual thoughts, your desires, and your questions do not – I repeat – DO NOT make you – silly, stupid, invalid, wrong, a freak, disgusting – any of those things.

I guarantee you that whatever you’re feeling or thinking or even fantasising about, someone has experienced that before. That’s not to say you aren’t unique – because each of us ARE – rather it means the kink you think is rare or weird isn’t as rare or weird as you think.

I used to feel the same way. I mean, I was a teen with a brother-sister incest fantasy. And you know what? That led me to other people who felt as weird as I did.

The weird thing about the universe is that it leads you to certain people. They’ll be drawn to you and vice versa. Something to consider when the going gets tough.

 

Journal Your Thoughts, Fears and Dreams

What do you fantasise about? What do you want to explore? What keeps you up at night? Write it down.

When it comes to you, your mind and the page, you’d be surprised where your mind goes and what you write down.

I used to keep a journal of all my feelings – and that damned thing survived three relationships and a fuck tonne of moping.

More than this, you might find yourself discovering new things about the way your mind works.

You learn to analyse in a way, and in doing so you find yourself coming back to a moment that can help define whatever it is you are seeking or whatever you are exploring.

So long as you are truthful with yourself, you can go as deep into your psyche as you want to learn about your ticks.

 

The Only Silly Question Is The One Not Asked

I used to hate asking questions. Why? Because I felt like a total idiot. I felt like a bother. And I always felt like the person I was asking didn’t feel like they should have to explain it – and that’s partly on me and my anxieties and partly on the personality of the individual.

IF you come across a person who seems annoyed or aggressive because of you asking questions, chances are they’re not the person you should be asking. So don’t take that as a reflection of you, some people just don’t want that job of answering questions. That’s on them. NOT on you.

My advice to teenagers is this: Find your voice, gather your words, and practice speaking openly. No question is too wild or dumb, because that is how you learn. So one day you might help someone else in need.

I suffered low self esteem. I hated my voice. I mumbled and was quiet. I screwed up words constantly. I had to discipline myself to be okay with asking questions – to speak up. And if a lowly person such as myself can do it, you can do it too!

 

Challenge Your Mind Constantly

Push your boundaries. Be open to new experiences, new sights, new sounds.

Do you struggle with body issues? Try being nude more, just doing small everyday things like cleaning your room, listening to music. Become use to your body. Love who you are. Is there a kink you don’t like? Why? Define your answers, explore your reasoning. Is there an act that makes you uncomfortable? What is it? Why does it affect you so?

Lastly: Do not be afraid of your inner darkness. Some people, when they are confronted with their true selves, run away screaming.

But you can only run so far before you form a circle and end up face to face with your primal side, if such a thing lays dormant within you.

If it does, remember this: You’ve survived it before, you can do it again.

 

Talk To Someone If You Need To

Absolutely this. If there’s a recurring worry, if there’s a nightmare that’s woken you up, if you have a general question, consider talking to your closest friend. Consider writing to a blog writer or forum. There are many avenues you can choose to find help, it is never too late and there is never a limit to how many questions you can ask. If things are overwhelming, never ever hesitate – I cannot stress this enough.

On top of that, you can always feel free to email me if you have something to say, need advice, have a question, just need to write after a bad dream – anything.

My contact is in the ABOUT ME section of the blog.

It may feel like things are overwhelming, like there is too much information out there.

If you’re a teenager and you feel cornered and alone and just need advice, you’re not alone. I’m here to talk to, night or day. If you write in, no matter how jumbled you may feel your words will be, I’ll write back. I promise.

And if you ever feel you can’t possibly learn all these new things, remember – baby steps. One day at a time. In time, you’ll learn all you want to know.

If I can do it, you can.

 

 

 

 

Memoirs Of A Dominant

Next week I will be turning thirty.
And looking back on the last ten years of my life is a strange and beautiful thing.

I’ve had the gift of life given to me but also of laughter and love and yeah, even Dominance. 

When I was twenty, I didn’t know what I do now. 

You could say I was Dominant, but I was coarse and unrefined. 

I could dominate – and I did – but it wasn’t with any sort of awareness of the bigger picture. I was playing chess one square at a time rather than the whole board.

Unknowingly, I had formed D/s relationships but neither me nor the lady I was with knew that. All I knew was that I had gone from being a loner to suddenly an attractive man – well, in the eyes of others anyway. At 20 I was insecure with myself in a way that I’m not now. 

My twenties were spent outside of anything BDSM related. There were flickers of it: The degradation that came out in my teens also came out in the bedroom. But I didn’t know terms, dynamics, things I wanted. I was coarse and unrefined and in a strictly vanilla relationship. 

It was around the time of my mid-twenties when something inside me awoke. Suddenly I wanted to learn. 

I was afraid to learn – there were times in the middle of the night where I woke from a dream to an ache I had ignored due to some of that catholic guilt I was raised with coming out – but I still had that desire. 

My long-term girlfriend at the time was not interested in the slightest. Not even after me trying to introduce to her some things I wanted to try. We simply were not compatible, though we hung onto each other long anyway.
Her dismissal led me to blogs and sites and that’s where I discovered Fetlife. That’s where I discovered apps like Whisper.

Suddenly I was finding that education I was so scared about. I deleted and signed up to Fetlife numerous times before I created the profile that exists today. 

Through whisper, I met a bubbly young lady. She was eighteen. I was 26 at the time. 
Blonde hair, blue eyes, piercings over her face and nipples. 
I did not have an affair with her, if that’s what you’re thinking. As I write this now, I can see that this was the origin of my Daddy side. 

You see, she came from a broken home. She was constantly in a state of distress. And over the weeks, we would talk and I would help in any way I can – because…well, because she felt like a little sister to me. 

The universe is a strange thing. It brings people together, it pulls people apart. And I guess, in that time, the universe gave me someone to talk to who was just as much seeking answers as I was. 

We would talk about our interests, mainly though, we would talk shit. And it was pleasant. 

I don’t know where she is now, but looking back, I think that was instrumental in forging my Daddy side. My caring side. My nurture side. 

EVENTUALLY my long term relationship with my girlfriend fell apart. We stopped being friends, we hung out in different rooms after work. We simply weren’t compatible. 

At the time, I wanted to fight. I felt that was what I wanted to do – fight for her. But when she showed no interest in fighting back, I decided to drop my compulsion to fix things or solve things and just…let her go. 

In the months after, I sought to explore myself. I moved in with my parents for a while, Iogged back into Fetlife. I took nude selfies despite my lingering guilt post-relationship. I wrote songs too. Really on-the-nose songs, with titles like ‘Penultimate’ and ‘Signposts’. It was my way to heal.

Through Fetlife – through people, really – I learnt what I was once too scared to learn. I spoke to women I befriended. Some I was drawn to on a really primal level. They helped point out what I was feeling. 

I had plenty of fascinating conversations about minds and life just staying in the intimate space of my childhood bedroom. In a lot of ways I was doing a loop, folding over back into my childhood town. Adulthood is weird.

But I learned I was a primal. I learned I was a Daddy. I had a six hour edging session – and I’m not exaggerating to prove something, I spent the majority of that day in bed pushing my limits. I was done crying, I was going to edge damnit. 

So you see, life is strange. Why we don’t accept our minds and our sexuality is stranger. I could lament and wonder why it wasn’t sooner that I had this life affirming epiphany, but you can’t go back. Only forward. 

If you have any questions regarding this post, always feel free to write me at my email. I’m more than happy to help you with your own journey.  

Paint It Black: A Stream of Consciousness piece 


‘Paint it Black’ by The Rolling Stones is a curious beast of a song. From the lyrics, It feels like it is coming from the mind of a manic depressive. 

But on a tangent, on a stream of consciousness, I want to add something that I’ve always, personally, taken away from the song.
“I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes. I have to turn my head until my darkness goes”




Every time I heard that part, I would always think of something animalistic. 

Kind of like a Dr. Jekyll / Mr. Hyde duality happening. The primal. The animal. That thing that wants to ravage these, well, poor young women. 

And so, will you kindly step over the threshold and into my mind? Do watch your step and don’t wander off. Things may grab you and take you. 
That lyric makes me think of a man. A single father, if you will. A painter. Or at least, he is painting his home when his daughter, a pretty little thing of 18, comes home with her best friend. 

This daughter, raven hair, blue eyes, no make up, effortlessly pretty, slinks off to the shower, leaving her best friend, freckles, red hair, eyes like ice, with this single father.
Now…I’m a fan of magic. I’m also very tired, it’s 5 – no, 6-38am upon reading this and despite my best interests, I’m writing. I don’t know why. Forgive me if this is garbage and feel free to write so in the comments below. I trust you to.

But I’m a fan of magic with my stories. Hence sea creatures and cults and demons invading bedrooms. And this scenario? Say the paint fumes affect this best friend. Say this single father, this awkward, lanky, but charming dark haired man, despite his best intentions, gives in to the part of him that flirts a look at this younger lady. 

What if…with one hand, he grabs her and pushes her against the wet wall, tears off her stockings, rips down her girly panties, something cute like tinker bell light blue panties. And tinker bell’s face is right where this girl’s slit is, yeah. Starting to be soaked. 

What if this best friend doesn’t stand a chance against this father. And while her head shakes off the paint fumes, she’s getting her clothes torn off. 

The single father, he’ll throw her down along the ground, a tarp softening her blow. And I see a pale ass. A freckle is on her right cheek. And it’s utterly delightful. This freckle is like a highlight. As her lightly trimmed cunt that can be seen as she falls to the ground, defenceless. But also weirdly aroused.

And while she squirms, maybe groans and cries – cries drowned out by the daughter’s shower – this single father grabs her by the legs and drags her back to him. And you know, I can feel the floor on my stomach drag as he drags her. It’s like I feel her. And see her. Weird.

I did, only once, witness a dream come to reality. I dreamt of two elements and then the next day, those two elements appeared in my life. Right where I was in that exact moment. I was travelling overseas so the chances of these elements appearing were slim. Maybe there’s a minute part of me that is psychic? Hm. But I do feel her. Just as I see her.

And this single father, maybe he grabs a paint brush, dips it in the nearest point and he’ll paint her black. 
Maybe he’ll paint all of her black. Her arms, breasts, ass, stomach. He’ll mark her. And she’ll squirm at the coldness. And she’ll feel repulsed but aroused. She’a being claimed in an aggressive animalistic fashion.

And then, once he’s done marking her, randomly I might add – he doesn’t want her to asphyxiate – he’ll take her by her blackened hips and fuck her from behind. And he will find that she is so aroused that he slips right into her. And she’ll be caught off by it because there’s a tickle in her stomach that says this is wrong. And she secretly likes said tickle. 

They’ll fuck until she comes first, at which point this single father will slip outside of her to come on a nearby cloth that he had been using to wipe his sweat from his brow. 
What happens then is up to you. Not me. I’ve already painted the image, now it’s your interpretation. 

Goodnight. 

The Nude Selfie

I’m writing this at 1.57am so apologies if I’m rambling or not making sense. But a topic came to my head and I wanted to talk about the nature of it. And since this is the internet, let’s do this. 

With everyone online, and humans being naturally sexual people (or sexually repressed people), it had to happen sooner or later. The nude selfie. The display of one’s own body. 

Sometimes it’s a cause. Other times it’s empowerment. Sometimes, it’s for shits and giggles. Whatever. But I wanted to talk a little about the art of it all.

Just now, I typed into Instagram the ‘nude selfie’ tag and I got quite a bit of hits, as you’d imagine. It’s late, I’m pondering. Sometimes shapes intrigue. Sometimes I like looking into people’s homes. 

It’s not the act of nudity that intrigues me, I just discovered. It doesn’t mean that much to me because I don’t know the person. Im sure they’re appealing, but it doesn’t hit me like my kitten being naked would. Im of the mindset of having that direct line to the heart behind the shell and that makes it sexy.

So when I see a nude selfie and it’s a man (though it’s usually a lady) with her girls and lady garden out, my mind kind of stutters. 

And I’m probably a snob, you know? Because what I’m getting at here is that what is more stimulating to me as a person, or as a sexual deviant, is when there’s some sort of composition to the image. Maybe they’ve got their hand over their breasts, their lower half hidden, maybe there’s a silhouette behind a shower curtain, maybe it’s comical in some way. 

I’m a fan of mystery. I’m a fan of putting thought behind it, because anyone can take a nude photo and go – here I am, Uncle Sam – and things are fair dinkum. But to work around it? To get creative? I dunno. That’s a person after my own heart. 

But then, I’m guilty of taking the non mysterious pic too. I’ve sent a few cheeky pics to my lady and on Fetlife I just got in and out with a snap. 

I dunno. Maybe it’s the creative beast in me, framing images and thinking of low lighting and ways to position yourself. Sometimes I think I’d like to photograph someone in the nude. But in a tasteful-Playboy-like way, not in a hopping-in-the-shower-here-I-Am way. Although! Naturalistic is beautiful too. And I definitely am an admirer of a beautiful lady slinking off into the shower. But I’m getting sidetracked. Where was I? Oh photography.

I’d like to do that. I’d like to do a set with a theme, kinda like Suicide Girls but probably a bit avante-garde and black and white and artsy somehow. See? Snob!

There’s beauty in the human body. And I think there should be thought, on occasion, to be creative about how you capture this. Obviously this is my ideas, and when sending cheeky snaps to one another, things can be simple and sweet, but for the nude selfie folk out there, the artists, the instagrammers, whoever and whatever, experimentation could be fun.  

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. 

Do Not Be Afraid Of Who You Are

I’ve been in the lifestyle for a number of years – 12, technically. And yet, a number of those were me wandering in the dark scared of my own desire. Fearful of who I was. 
I’m much better now, with an open dialogue between the various aspects of my personality. But I still struggle. Whenever I am about to post, I am scared initially. Scared that one day, one thought will go too far. One story will be too rough. Or weird. 
I mean, I’ve written about sea creatures and vampires and sex cults and you guys are still here. But I still worry. 

And so today, I want to talk about fear.
For some, it starts at the beginning of your journey. You have a thought so effective that it scares you because of how you perceive it – that it’s weird or demented or troubling. 
Maybe it’s not just a thought, maybe it’s a mindset. A rape fantasy. A bondage fantasy. Maybe you’re a masochist and you’re trying to understand why you like sadistic concepts. 
Running from that thought won’t work. I tried. I ended back at square one face to face with the thought. And I’d feel guilty.
The trick, I think, is to begin to rewire your outlook. Day by day, steal a moment to yourself and think about what scares you. Remind yourself you’re not alone. That it’s okay to be the way you are.
For me, it was a long and slow process. I signed up to Fetlife. I challenged myself with nude photos. I dived into the local conversation. And day by day, I’d take a moment to read about it, in books, online. 
I think because I always kept the door open to learn, that eventually it became second nature to me. I felt okay being this weird mix of Daddy / Master / Primal.
Even though that’s my story and everyone is different, I feel like the keeping the door open notion is useful. Don’t run from it, keep one foot in the door and one foot in your comfort zone until you are ready to take a wander through entirely.
What we feel, who we are, is natural. It’s what makes us beautiful. Whether you’re interested in bestiality, like an old friend of mine once was, or whether you’re laying in bed married but out of sorts with your spouse. 
The first step is admitting these thoughts are okay. Are your own. The next step is up to you. You might fall or stumble but you’re stronger then you realise. You’ll be okay.
If you need help taking that initial step, if you want to run by a desire just to hear someone else let you know it’s perfectly fine, if you are confused, whatever the reason, you’re not alone. My email – my door – is always open.
Don’t be afraid to step through.