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

30 Days of Kink – Day #2: List Your Kinks!

Describes what it is about being Dominant or submissive that excites and arouses you the most.

Here’s the thing – I wrote a list of links but it felt very cold and disconnected and by-the-numbers. I guess that was unavoidable though because lists are lists right? That’s how they go.

Anyway. My kinks are varied. I like a lot of psychological acts like sensory deprivation and orgasm denial – acts to really bring a mind to its darkest corners. Of course that crosses into the boundaries of Consensual Non Consent, wherein lies some nipple and breast play-torture. I do love to bite, slap, smack, suckle, stretch, pinch, squeeze and pull.

As a primal I am into exhibitionism, pet play and voyeurism. I guess cages and collars and leashes can be added in this category, as I love to lead a good kitten, bathe her when she’s dirty, feed her when she’s hungry.

There’s a sadistic side to me that likes to indulge in face slapping, hair pulling, degrading physically and verbally, spitting and flogging. There’s something liberating about tapping into that mindset. It’s almost a feral energy. If that makes any sense to either the dominant readers or submissive ones.

As to what excites me the most about being dominant, that kind of ties into yesterday’s entry — I like the psychological aspects behind it. That is to say, sharing this untethered connection with someone and peeking behind the curtain into their mind. I like knowing how people behave and why they behave that way behind closed doors. I like sharing that rawness with people.

But there’s other things right? The spiritual ever-in-need-of-balancing urge to dominate. I need that certain dynamic and I can’t really explain why it’s so important or how, only that if I can’t have that, it’s imbalanced and I’m moody and it’s just a spectacular human mess, right?

On top of all that messy qualities, there’s an interest in that edge of sexuality. A calling to, what I perceive to be, darkness. An interest in tapping into that animalistic and brutal and unfiltered vein and seeing how deep the rabbit hole is. A way to experience an edge, danger, in a safe and controlled environment, either by myself through text or with another being.

Her Madness

He brought her to the brink of her own madness, just to see what came loosely from her maddened lips, what delightful desires came free-falling from her devilish mind.

She laid beside him, clenching her tits, pulling them, twisting them, pushing her own boundaries.

She uttered words he’d never heard her say before, sounded unlike the woman who had walked off to work early that morning.

This spirit, this vixen, this force of nature that came out of this being beside him was alive.

‘Please…let me come.’

‘No.’

Anguished cries erupted from her mouth, torture and torment, pain and elated pleasure.

‘Fuck, Sir, why not?’

‘Don’t you question me now, young lady. We can do this all evening.’

‘Let me suck your cock, I need this.’

She went to sit up but he caught her by her waist, placing her back down.

The ‘No’ that came from his lips was more stern than he intended.

‘I want to taste, I want…Fuccccccck.’

She was growing frustrated. He was growing pleased.

‘Yes. Do tell me what you want. There’s a good girl. I want to hear everything you want’

And she told him. She wanted his cock in her mouth, she wanted every drop, she wanted to be bruised by him across her tits, enough to hurt her in the morning. She writhed as she told him this, coiling around on the fresh bedsheets like a snake.

Hissing and spitting her words she went, twisting and thrashing and emitting a half sob, half cry of rage.

‘I don’t want to go backwards. I’m a whore, let me be your whore. Let me be your Slave. I can be, I can be whatever you want, just let me -‘

‘Are you bargaining to come?’

He sounded amused.

She let out a cry, this ancient goddess.

‘No! I just need. I just want. I want to serve. I don’t want to go back. ‘

‘Back where, sweetie?’

‘Back to who I was before. Please, Sir, let me come. Fucking just please let me.’

‘Language, young lady.’

He watched her, her pink toy resting on her clit, the nipple clamps stretching her nipples out across their space together.

She slipped the toy inside, gasping at the action, licking her lips. Despite his order to not come, he let her go, watched with a strange satisfaction at her attempt to bring herself close.

‘Sweetie…’

She grunted, possessed, pumping the toy swiftly in and out. She was muttering under her breath, focused and feral.

‘Sweetie!’

Still, she ignored him.

He struck her across her nipples and stilled himself. It seems she was inside his mind as much as he was inside hers.

She stopped her hand, looking up at him with a grin so mischievous he wanted to strangle her. But to do that would be to lose control. And she wasn’t going to have that satisfaction.

‘Ten more minutes before you can come now.’

‘What?!’

Outrage.

‘Fifteen.’

‘Sir, no – Please. I…’

‘Twenty. You were saying?’

She sulked, a bit of a pout, a face built just for him. ‘Yes, Sir.’

She began again.

Some Version Of You

Some version of you exists in my mind,

Drenched in sweat,

Quivering

So degraded and humiliated you’re trembling,

Skin stinging from rope and an open palm,

A clit so sore you don’t want to move,

Burning, scorching marks from the paddle,

Nipples pulsating from the bite.

You don’t understand. You don’t understand. How could you? No one’s ever tested you, ever tested your limits, ever twisted your mind. No one has ever been curious enough to wonder how your mind sounds when the last moment of sanity slithers from your lips, and drips, down your throat like the bead of sweat from your temples.

But I do. He does.

We want to break you, to violate your sweet tight cunt till you are forced to come, till your thighs tremble to rock with the umpteenth orgasm that will wash over you. And when you’re spent, we will flip you over and fuck your untouched ass till you feel so disgustingly full you will squeeze your eyes shut tightly and feel the nagging presence of a headache.

With each thrust, you’ll repeat back to me. I am Nothing. I am No One. I am Ready to be His Toy. With each forced orgasm, you’ll thank me, through gritted teeth, till I don’t have to remind you, till you know the words.

And when I fuck your salty mouth with my aching cock, grasping the nipple clamps planted fiercely on your tits, tugging them like a rider alerts a horse, you fucking animal, I am going to shoot my load down the back of your throat till you swallow.

Only then will you be free, left to curl up, left with the ache, left with the come drying on your lips, rocking and panting and promising and pleading:

I am nothing. I am no one. I am ready to be His toy.

Winter

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WINTER

I take you by the leash and lead you out to the frozen country side. You’re wearing  nothing but my leather jacket I’ve put on for the day. You think we are going for a brisk walk but what you don’t know is that I have an exercise planned for you. 

The tips of the trees are covered in frost. The wind bites at your neck. Freezes your feet. Turns your nipples to glass. You feel compelled to be led by me.

Until I ask you to undress.

You watch me closely. Perhaps you think I jest? Well, I do not. You begin to stammer. To squeak. You knew I was a sadist but you never expected this.

My orders do not change. Even my protection doesn’t entice you to undress. Frostbite is mentioned. But even my word that you will be okay doesn’t amount to much.

My dear Snow White. My dear Ice queen. Undress for me. Show me why it is you love winter, why you insist on exploring the winter wonderland every year.

When you fail to be moved by my trust, I tear off your jacket and push you down to your knees. The leash jingles as you fall. You whimper as you can feel the ice around your knees but I can see that look in your eyes, I know it well. You dare not move.

Dear Snow, I was only going to make you come once for me in your natural habitat. Now, you will work that freshly shaven cunt of yours until I am pleased by your actions.

From my pocket, I reveal your favourite toy – your thick purple vib. 

But you shake your head and refuse, the cold is too much. You can’t concentrate in these conditions, you say. Very well.

I force your face into the snow and with my free hand, trace the purple vib down your back to your pale ass. You’re begging to be freed but it’s more than the exercise now, it’s the lesson.

You shiver at the touch of the purple vib as it trails down the curves of your ass. You beg it to me – not here, not now. But you will do as I say.

I’m surprised when I reach your lips. You’re warm and wet. Inviting. As a stranger taking shelter from this very weather, I slid the vib in gently, letting you take it in. Like your pure mouth takes in my cock of a night.

You know what’s funny about you, snow? You’re a devil. You’re an angel around the public, but some things you want whispered in your ear, your desire for my cock -or the salty taste of my come – it’s just so naughty. I watch as you take the purple vib, how your face melts from discontent to something else. It starts off as a faint thing, that pleasure. Then it’s all over you, evident by the goosebumps trailing up your body. Suddenly your squirm meets back into the vib as I slip it back into you. Suddenly your cries and begs become soft moans. 

Your juices drip onto snow beneath you, melting patches away. You try to speak but I hush you. If you’re going to ask for my cock, you can forget it. You gave yourself to me for a reason and you couldn’t trust that reason. Now, you’re going to be taught to trust. To trust that I have your body in mind when I am using it as an instrument.

You start to shake visibly and I know you are coming. You always were sensitive, Snow. It never took you long. Lucky for us, we still have enough time before I have to run you a hot bath.

When you reach your orgasm, I don’t slow down. You beg me to release you from my grasp, but this only serves for me to pull your hair. No.

No, Snow. I am going to sit here and work this vib until you are sore and trembling and on the verge of something beyond anything we’ve ever taken you to before. You will trust me.

I’m your sadistic Dominant

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I’m a sadistic Dominant. This much I’ve learnt in my journey. It’s taken me years to admit to myself and grow confident in my nature – my TRUE nature – but I am finally here.

When I was 17, I held a Dominating power over a then-girlfriend. I made her masturbate on her parents bed…and when she was done, I made damn sure her delicious cream was rubbed right into the fabric.

Back then, I was a kid who was experimenting so the gentleness I have now was, if not lost on me, then ignored. Because my belief now is that – well, to get geeky, with great power comes great responsibility, no?

But looking back, it appears there has always been that sadistic streak in me. Talking about my journey the other day on becoming a Dominant, it made me think about my sadism and I really wanted to explore it with all the beautiful people that follow me.

There is a nastiness to me that appears to me sometimes. It wants to push boundaries and make people uncomfortable. It manifests in two ways: I like to fuck with people’s minds. A slow delicious build up that gets the both of us hot, but with me always in control. And then I like to turn this into pushing people in an unpredictable environment BUT with an exit strategy should there ever be discomfort.

A part of this extends to Orgasm Denial. I can edge for a few hours. I think somewhere along the line I built up and practiced that feature — but my submissive cannot. Watching her squirm and beg and get nasty all over the one thing — release — is quite appealing to me.

Another time, I want to send her off to work in her shortest dress, just because I enjoy the thought of her squirming and trying to work around not flashing anyone. I wanted to see if she could struggle that successfully. I know I have sent her to work without panties and in a short dress in the past, just grinning evilly at the thought of her exposing herself – that the world might see but definitely couldn’t touch. (I have mentioned my possessiveness, yes?)

Other times, I might start fondling her while she’s driving. Or when she’s on the phone to her mother, I’ll start kissing down her delicious thighs. Or maybe, just maybe, I’ll start stroking her treasure while people are over and in the next room.

I can’t explain why I am sadistic. Can anyone? What is it in our brains that just want that cruelty? What is it that makes me oh so hard at the thought of pushing her in that direction?

Dear lord, is it intoxicating…

The power of Orgasm Denial

When I say I’m a fan of psychological punishment, I mean I go all out — I pull out all the stops.

And seeing as it’s 12-29am as I write this and my tired mind pulls out all filters, I want to talk about something we all know as Orgasm Denial.
There is nothing quite as sensual and erotic – and stimulating to my Dominant side – than having my submissive writhe in agony as I tell her she cannot play, that she has to watch me touch myself, all while I’m inches from her face.
“Please” She will say, growing agitated and fidgety. “It aches”
I refuse. I get her to edge and edge. I love to edge. I think it’s an intense experience — and sharing that with someone is even more intense, because come that release – well…I’ve never felt anything like it.
But Orgasm Denial as psychological punishment that satisfies my Dom. It goes beyond the act of edging, there’s something within me that takes pleasure about being a mind fuck to my submissive.
I actually ENJOY seeing her beg..seeing her lose her mind and just throw anything at me in hopes I let her come. She is at my mercy, trying to kiss my lips – which I deny.
And the best thing – the absolute best thing – is that she can’t act out. She’s frozen in place because somehow, someway my commands has her captivated. I mean, she could easily disobey. But she doesn’t. She can’t. For the life of her, she just can’t.
All these feelings swirl around in my head as I touch myself over going mad – a delicious dance of me with my hands as I watch her bite her lip and grip the bedsheets to stop her hands from wandering.
Maybe I’ll ease on top of her and put her out of her misery with my cock. Maybe I’ll let her use her favourite toy. The delicious possibilities are endless.
This is just one method of psychological torture I like to inflict upon my submissive. It’s a balance we both enjoy and sometimes a nice departure from our living and loving D/s relationship.