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 #1: Me, Myself & I

It has been three years since I last did this 30 Days of Kink questionnaire. I’ve been thinking about doing it again for some time, mainly because I sense I’ve grown so much – I sense it in myself. But I’ve put it off for a few reasons – one, because I felt cheap to do a retread, and two – because I honestly don’t know how much interest it would garner for the current list of readers.

I’m putting myself out there, hoping it is warmly received. That being said, in the interest of being honest, I will state that I haven’t read my previous answers to these thirty questions that I wrote down back in 2015 when I was 27, so I’m going in with a completely fresh mind.

I hope you join me.

Dominant, submissive or switch? List the parts of BDSM that get your juices flowing, what interests you the most? Basically define your kinky nature.

I’m a Dominant man that hails from the land of Oz! But within the dominant frame of mind, I’ve found that I identify with other aspects, such as a Master, a Daddy and a primal.

I think the thing that gets my juices flowing the most is that psychological component of the interaction, sexually but especially non-sexually. By psychological component, I mean the little details that bring out expressions in people. For me, these expressions include a change in posture, a change in demeanour. Little shifts in voice and outward appearances that are not noticeable to me but are to my kitten.

To me, it’s like I’m witnessing this transformation of someone, this very special part that they choose to show to me. And it can manifest in the eyes, the voice and in the mind.

I find these details within us, these sides of our personality, to be incredibly delicious – and also incredibly delightful to meet. I could talk with a submissive mind all night, I’m that invested in hearing differences of opinion. The more different to mine, the better.

Beyond that, I’ve found that there needs to be a level of control in my life – and this goes beyond mere sexual gratification, although there is that wonderful part – but there’s something about ownership and leadership and protocol and structure in a D/s dynamic that brings absolute joy to my life. It brings peace. It’s a very spiritual and important thing to me.

That being said, I’ve noticed different sides of my personality since I began my journey that have ignited passion and imagination in my mind. I’ve found I have a side of me with Master tendencies, that either comes out in stories or fantasies. I’m drawn to that Master / Slave mindset, finding peace within the dynamic of law and order and protocol and training and obedience.

On the other side of the coin, I’m a Daddy. I have this insatiable desire to help those in need, either friends of friends or friends in general and my kitten. I have this strangest sensation like I’m some sort of Dad to my kitten at times, or that I feel like one – it’s the weirdest sensation to put down into words.

It’s partially why I offer Mentoring, because sometimes I face such an ache in my heart when I hear the frustration of someone who writes in, and I can’t bear that pain in others.

I’m a big kid at heart, I love reading to people – Lewis Carrol, Dr. Suess – and I love animation, so Disney marathons are a must in my household. You’ll even catch me singing them too.

Lastly, I’m a primal. That was my gateway to kink even when I didn’t know it. Exhibitionism, nudity, speaking freely – I had been shy and repressed for so long that it became a practice to not reject any thoughts that came to mind. It also helps alleviate my anxiety, if that makes sense.

If you’ve made it this far, and I certainly hope you have, I hope you’ve enjoyed the read and if you have any questions regarding any of the above, by all means, pick my mind. I welcome the discussion.

And if you’re new to this 30 Days of… – try it yourself. I’d love to hear from you!

All I Want

There’s passion to be found, not in action but expression.

My hands claw her side, tear her leggings, expose her flesh, leaves marks in her flesh – thin red streaks across her hips.

I don’t care about Force. I don’t care it’s the coffee table, I don’t care about anything.

All I want, for eternity, is to press my cock against the curves of her ass and come to a rhythm built only for us.

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. 

One Morning: Non-Fiction

“What are you doing? My mum’s going to be over any minute now”It began as an early morning cuddle in bed.

Kitten snuck in while I was dozing and wanted to curl up for a moment before grabbing a coffee with her mum. 

And yet, as I awoke, so did something else in me, something primal.

We didn’t last long cuddling before I began kissing her neck and sliding my hand down her pyjama shorties. 

To my surprise, the little girl was absolutely soaked. So soaked that I could slide my finger in and finger in.

She resisted, you know that? “(Name retracted)!” She cried. “No! I’ve got to get ready!”

I started running my thumb along her clit.

“No, stop. She could be here any minute. You know she’s always early”

“You’re coming” was all I said, I believe. I’m not entirely sure.

 At that, she resigned herself to her fate. It was like my order, or the clarity in my voice, was enough to set her still. She laid there quietly.

Kitten was reduced to a quivering moan, soft and unlike her normal speaking voice.

We laid in silence as I worked her clit, circularly and then across her slit, until she spoke out of the silence.

“Will you make love to me?”

I was hard from her moans, from the fact that she was soaking her cute little shorties.

We undressed in silence and gently, I climbed onto of her. 

There’s a rare thing that happens when we make love. I can’t quite put my finger on it, except to say that it has never lost its appeal. Everything is still magical, from undressing her to sliding my cock inside her and feeling how bad she has it for me. 

We make love to the symphony that is our moans and soon she comes once. Then again. And another time, before I give her a chance to breathe.

As we lay there, satisfied, me somehow still holding it together despite being with a goddess, she asks me one small thing.
Can I use my toy, Sir?

I answer yes and her smile lights up the room. She loves to play for me, with me, and I love to watch her enjoy the toy I hand picked myself.
I must admit, I feel pride there. I know what she likes. I know how she likes to come. This toy gets her there. 

Together we play, side by side, in complete harmony, me edging while sucking on her tits. First I suck gently, then I bite a little hard. I alternate between her nipples, giving one a break so it becomes less sensitive and more equally built up to breaking point.

It’s my call to kneel above her and come on her tits and my god, it feels fucking amazing. I empty my load on her, my masterpiece and she can only lick her lips as she reaches her own orgasm. Her fourth. Or was that fifth? I can’t recall now. 

But isn’t she a good girl? Waiting for her Sir to come before she comes herself? Haven’t I taught her well? 

I think about this as we lay side by side, looking at each other. 

It’s then I can’t help myself: I tell her – next time, don’t resist me.

She grins and goes to shower before her mother comes over. 

Thoughts to keep warm during Winter

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When I tell her to bend across the pool table, I wonder what her mind is running to.
When I tease her slit with the pool cue, gliding in circles, I wonder if she is hesitant or welcoming.

And when I ease it into her, as it disappears inside her, will she buckle, will she tremble, will she tell me it’s too much or will she try and prove to me, rot herself, to the gods, that she is worthy, that she is the one. That I am the one for her.

O, will she slide back into it, to feel it stretch her, to feel ‘full’?
Or will she attempt to crawl away, as it is too much.
Which version do I want, obedience or struggle? Both harden my cock.

What will come out of those slick wet lips?
A guttural moan?
A grunt, in the most beautiful, animalistic, dare I think un-lady-like way?
Or will she sob? And if so, will that sobbing enchant me or dispel me?

How will her hair fall? Over her eyes? Over her mouth?
Will her hair stick to her wet luscious lips?

And will she come? Will she come again? Will she take the cue for me until I tell her no more, until she is so full it aches. Maybe it bleeds.

Such thoughts run through my mind. And warms my heart.

 

 

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!