Torment

A pretty little thing lay bound to the bed, chains linked across her bare body.

Her auburn hair had fallen across her furrowed brow, strands reaching down to mask her eyes.

The muscles in her neck clenched tight as her stomach reached up to meet the cool kiss of the chains around her breasts, pockets of ice biting at her nipples.

He hovered above her, a leg on each side of her, his thick and uncut cock fully hard as it frames shadows across her belly button.

His cock bobs in the air – in truth, he uses what muscles he has to hold tight. He feels the pleasure swirling from the pit of his stomach down to his shaft, reaching its own tendril to skim underneath his testicles.

Pre-come glistens the tip of his cock. He knows this, is aware of this. He uses this to his advantage, letting a strand run down his shaft and across the length of his testicles to drop across her chained stomach.

She murmurs in frustration, a strangled sound somewhere between a beg and a fierce cry. He may be aware of how Come is dripping in a sequence of dots traveling upwards to her breasts but the one thing He isn’t aware of is how badly she craves to taste him.

Her thirst is ridiculous, unquenchable. In this moment, bound and at the mercy of Him, she truly believes that if she can’t taste him, just a drop even, she will descend into madness.

In a heartbeat it terrifies her, this longing. An image comes fully formed to her, an animal writhing and growling and howling, it’s throat raw, spittle bubbling on its lips, pupils large. It’s body vibrating with desperation. Somehow she understands that she will become the animal if she doesn’t own up to her own feelings, if she cannot accept what she wants and the ferocity of how badly she wants it.

She can feel his come smack against her flesh, can lift her head just enough so that she can see his Cock bobbing in the air, a drop beading on its head, but not His face. She imagines his smile – and her thirst for him grows.

On Discovering I was Primal

I didn’t meet a person within the BDSM community that identified as being a primal until I was 26.

I didn’t even know the full extent of being a primal – I didn’t know about pet play, being a predator, being a prey or traits OF a primal person, even when I had a few of those traits.

I knew I was dominant. I knew I liked being naked outdoors, knew that it exhilarated me. I knew that the outdoors, as much of a house creature I can be, thrilled me. Oh to think of running, the wind in my hair, my heart beating, my legs kicking into gear. It was a beautiful, beautiful thing.

When I was 26, long after my marriage failed, I decided to sign up to Fetlife and not shut it down out of fear this time. And through happenstance, I met a lovely Canadian lady who I got along really well with – I mean, similar sense of humour, the type of rapid fire wit that flows. It was lovely, and I didn’t quite understand at the time why it was so lovely. Until she, on a whim, started to express wolf-like aspects – little whines over Skype calls, talk of wrestling over a disagreement about favourite movies. I started to sense something, or maybe I DEVELOPED the means TO SENSE through talking to her.

And the topic of being primal came up. I was a bit confused at first, till she pointed out traits I had, which she, or the animal within her, responded to. And suddenly it all made sense – why I liked to growl, why I liked to run naked as a teenager through the Bush, why I felt SOMETHING fighting back within me when I was married and had chosen to stop thinking of BDSM and kink because I wanted to work for my marriage and be a good husband. Something primal and animalistic was there, it always there.

As these things sometimes go, one day we just stopped talking. Days went by, then weeks and then months. I haven’t spoken to her since, which is a shame because I owe her a lot. I guess that’s life, in a way. Strangers. Angels even? Who knows.

I’ve learned a lot about primal since then. A lot of it has come through googling, a lot has come through my own development and my development with my kitten, who has primal traits herself.

It’s strange meeting another primal person because sometimes I get this sense, however brief. I pick up on a trait, an inkling in someone. I can feel their openness and spontaneity and how raw they have themselves open to conversation – and how they conversation can flow! Usually these people and I get on like a house on fire – sense of humour and personality is similar and it’s easy to chat to them.

But it can be lonely too, sometimes. I check reddit, I’m part of Fetlife. I occasionally log into The Cage – I rarely see anything about a primal. I know it can be anything from not being advertised or being straightforward enough to mention – but it’s almost like it’s not at the forefront of Kink or D/s or BDSM. Or maybe it’s just me and it is there but behind whatever else someone displays via their notes or text or picture.

I don’t know about about anyone else, but sometimes it can feel like you are alone adrift at sea. I am blessed to have my kitten, my partner, who licks me and wrestles me to the bed – I have that connection now. But I didn’t always, and even then sometimes it’s just nice to know that there are others like you out there too, getting in touch with their own darkest desires.

To any folk out there, you are definitely not alone. There are more of us than you may think.

Why Do You Care So Much?! – And Other Frequently Asked Questions

As I lay in bed and enjoy winter’s gentle kiss on my bare skin, I thought I’d compile a list of frequently asked questions that come my way. It’s not a huge list I’m afraid but hopefully some might recognise themselves in these.

Why do you care so much about the people out there, newcomer or otherwise?

This is a big one that I get, and rightly so I guess. The internet can be a dodgy place and a recurring element that I’ve seen since starting the blog and offering counsel / mentoring is emotionally and physically abusive men, generally preying on women who have started to realise they’re submissive.

I care so much because I guess I see a lot of myself in people that write in to me. I can sense that trepidation and uncertainty. I mean, the world of Kink is so layered and vast that it’s terrifying. Where do you even start?

It’s partially because of my upbringing – I come from a conservative Catholic household – but also because of my insecurity, magnified by my shyness and my undiagnosed anxiety disorder. I was TERRIFIED at the prospect of, essentially, rebooting my life – finding a new place to live, finding someone who would, somehow share my sexual interests. It scared me so much that I stayed in a vanilla relationship longer than I should have.

And…I don’t want people to go through that. Not if I can help them find their voice and confidence and, at the very least, ease their anxiety or minds. I mean, even now I’ll get an email from someone who deleted several drafts before hitting send. Even now, on twitter, someone will message me and say they’ve been reading my blog for years – but haven’t said anything to me out of fear or guilt or shame – and it breaks my heart. Which is why I so often write to tell people it’s okay to write in to me.

This is a long response but another thing people ask after is my patience. The patience I have, with people asking questions – I haven’t hit a point where it’s become a nuisance. And I can’t tell you why I’m not bothered, I simply don’t feel annoyed. It’s just – I want to be available as much I can, and be this secure and helpful support.

Have you ever thought about doing a podcast?

I have, but being so shy and rambling and monotone I don’t know how entertaining I’d be. When I talk for a while, my anxiety tends to put the thought in that I’m self indulgent..or have tickets on myself – and I feel bad all on my own accord.

It’s a nice fantasy to think of having a BDSM podcast where I talk about a few things an episode – I could even have anxiety support sessions where I read a book or something – but would people enjoy it if I was the only speaker? I’m not sure.

I’d need a host that was like me – someone I could riff off and get talking. It can’t be my kitten because, a, her work and B – she is far too shy and reserved! You should’ve overheard me talking to her about voyeurism on a coffee run one day! She kept cursing me with a shy smile and flushing red.

Is being a Dominant exhausting, having to take care of so many different aspects?

Hmm, no! I mean, we take in note structure and mental well being and order – but these things become second nature with practice. And before they become second nature, they are things that you WANT to do – or at least that I WANT to do. There’s a constant drive there for me. Always…kinda like a PlayStation 4 on rest mode..it’s there in the background thinking away.

Because I want this – whether sexually or non sexually – it’s never a point of ‘ugh, gotta whip my lady now..’ It may become routine but it doesn’t become less exciting because of that fact. It’s still a constant pleasure and a thrill, to have the trust of someone. To hear their free moans and to be the one to guide them. To look them dead in the eye and hold their gaze.

The only time I can think of it being exhausting is when I’m in the midst of an anxiety storm and I lose not only will but my entire sex drive. In those moments, the last thing I want to do is be dominant.

What are your kitten’s thoughts on offering to talk to and / or mentor folk?

In the beginning, when I first wanted to do this, she had questions. I mean, even on a platonic level, talking bdsm and the like is still sexual. So that’s more than understandable. So we had a lengthy chat and I told her what I wanted to do and why, sharing how I felt and how I wanted to do something, anything, to alleviate minds and she understood.

She senses my need to share my writings and advice and opinions, though I think she’s worried that I’ll get hurt trying to help when you can’t possibly help everyone. And that’s why I try to help where I can, but not try to pry or overstep boundaries.

And something we always agreed on from the beginning was that bloglife didn’t overspill into any personal time spent together. Birthdays, brunch dates, family time together, Netflix on the couch, coffee runs – I always make time for us and never crisscross.

What do you get out of being a Mentor?

For me, there’s personal fulfilment that I’m getting, because I’m doing something I really want – and that’s helping someone, and guiding them and sometimes even seeing them grow.

I think it’s knowing that I helped in some small way that makes it worthwhile. I mean, I’ve gotten messages on Fetlife and tumblr from people I don’t know saying I was the inspiration for them to confront their own fears – and isn’t that the sweetest thing? It gives me the warm and fuzzies, honestly. I mean I’m just regular bloke from Australia, not even officially trained in counsel but I’m helping someone from the other side of the world. It’s beautiful.

I’ll stop it before things get War and Peace-levels of writing. If there’s a question you want to ask or one you feel was left out, let me know either in the comments below or at darkanddominant@hotmail.com

Remember, we all grow and bloom at different places. Don’t let others dictate your growth. Don’t define yourself by someone else’s thoughts on you – and whether you’re a long time lurker, first time reader or just want to chat all things BDSM and psychological – you are always more then welcome to write to me.

Incoming Rant and Ramble about being a BDSM Mentor

Grey sky leaking the bedroom windows, a soft rain on the roof over my head – laying naked in bed this winterly morning, I’ve been reflecting on my time acting as a mentor, of sorts, to those that have wanted or needed a recurring figure and friend to help them in their own journey, be they new and learning or savvy to the ways but finding new wrinkles in their mind.

When I first learned that such a thing as a BDSM Mentor existed, I didn’t really know what to make of it – was it key for some special sexual dynamic? Another riff on addressing one as ‘Sir’? It wasn’t until I read up on it, and read thoughts from the community on this here internet, that I realised what it was. And it spoke to me.

A mentor needs no ceremony, no bells and whistles, no special speech assigned to them – they merely are a friend on standby, someone to offer resources and guidance, someone who stands by the individual for as long as the individual needs their help.

A mentor is a preference though – one does not require a mentor. I didn’t have one, I stumbled through knowledge and here I am – and if someone like myself can do it, anyone can. No, a mentor is purely for those who feel they need the guidance. Someone to drop in and chat.

So in late 2016 / early 2017, I started to give it some thought. Could I be a mentor? Do I know enough? Can I help others? Am I worthy of their time? I doubted myself but my desire to help others where I struggled won over. I ran it by my kitten, clearing misconceptions, making sure that – if I were to chat with anyone about these things, man or woman, that she would be comfortable with that notion.

So I began to offer it more openly to readers here, being sure not to push the concept or make any shy person feel obligated, as I sometimes have been known to feel. I just wanted people to know someone could chat with them.

It became a thing of growth for me. I learned to be careful of influencing others with my own thoughts on kink, instead creating a space for them to feel at ease in their own skin. I listened and didn’t speak unless they asked. It’s not my place to interfere, I didn’t want to put thoughts in their head. If they needed a push, Well I would do that gently and only if I felt it was safe to do so. I didn’t want to rewrite their thought process.

Since 2017 I have been blessed to have had the opportunity to help people work through some of their own thoughts – and seeing these people go on to happy D/s relationships has been a beautiful and fulfilling thing for me, knowing in some tiny way that I helped them. It brings a tear to my eye.

It’s strange to me, when someone approaches me and apologises for their scattered email of thoughts or for wasting my time – because I’ve never had a problem with any of that. I’ve never felt out by an email, never minded wandering thoughts – as I’m the same – and I make the time to check my emails and blog. More than that, perhaps I think it’s strange because I can see myself in that person – scared and doubting, unsure about what they’re doing.

I don’t offer mentoring as much as I used to. A flare up in my anxiety caused me to doubt myself, leaving scars that remind me of those troubling thoughts – Who are you to offer that help? No one wants a stranger interfering. Just stop what you are doing.

But I try to relent and push through and still offer help where I can, because once in a while someone will write and say they’ve been trying to write for months but couldn’t overcome their own anxiety.

Being a mentor and mentoring fulfils my soul in many ways, but it has taught me growth. I’ve learned about who I am, about being a teacher, about the sides within me that someone I’m helping helps me see in the first place, thus teaching me.

It’s just a wholesome, lovely thing. And the fact that this person trusts me enough to let me in and help? That’s an honour.

Monsters

Ever since I was a young kid I was drawn to monsters. In the beginning, it was a child’s fascination with the unknown – grotesque ghosts, feral werewolves, unstoppable aliens, the very creatures from hell. I enjoyed their otherworldly presence, I enjoyed seeing something from somebody else’s nightmares.

As an adult, I still have this fascination, this…longing to see something beyond my own wildest nightmares. But there’s another layer there now – a new appreciation. Some monsters are tragic, creatures that were either once men, now different – creatures that are hunted for their own feral behaviour, creatures that have their own tragic background.

As an adult, the monsters that stay with me are Dracula, Dr. Jekyll, The Wolf Man, The Phantom of the Opera and so forth. Each of these characters are men struggling with something inside of them – this terrible self that can be destructive and alien and unlike who they are beyond the transformation. And though them I see tragedy and humanity and duality – and myself.

My mother, my sisters – they all raised me to be proper. They taught me values and morals that I carry with me every day of my life. I live by a few codes of honour – be kind to others, treat others as you want to be treated, be a gentleman not only to your loved ones but to the world around you – I certainly falter, some days I feel flat, prone to hotheadedness. I’d certainly never be violent – I detest violence – but I can be moody.

More than this, I can be primal and flirtatious and crass and sexual and just generally odd. I used to be terrified of this side of myself – this side that felt like being rough, that would think of such dark things….this side that would watch The Evil Dead and be aroused during the scene in which the vines of a tree, possessed by such dark magic, raped a poor unsuspecting soul.

After I would come back from a primal descent, shaken and panting, cock still throbbing from the throes of orgasm, everything I thought of in the moment would crash over me — and I’d be horrified.

That wasn’t me, I would think. How could I think such violent things? How could I get off on the things that go against everything I felt normally? You must understand I would never legitimately hurt someone outside of a controlled environment – think consensual non-consent – but the sheer idea of concepts new to me at the time – concepts like bruising, impact play, biting, choking, forcing my way into someone just to feel my cock split apart wet lips – horrified me.

I felt, in all honesty, like Dr. Jekyll discovering Mr. Hyde – who was this opposite? This feral doppelgänger? Why did I think such wicked thoughts?

And, fast forward years later, these wicked thoughts, this opposite man, still resides within me, carefully restrained through controlled environments and a watchful eye. It’s almost like a beast soothed by my other – kitten. Who helps me come back down, who accepts this creature and gives herself to it in love and adoration. If I am the beast, she is the beauty – one I’ve been looking for my whole life, soulfully fulfilling and accepting.

Maybe I’m not a beast or a monster or a creature, maybe I’m human with dark tendencies and that’s all she wrote – I don’t know. But I still feel it, you know? I feel it in my bones and in my heart and in my cock. I feel this ferocious energy, this mindset that says ‘don’t poke me, I don’t want you to see what happens if you do.’ I feel it all, and some days I accept it and some days I am scared by it, thinking —- am I alone? Or are there men or women like me out there?

How Do You Know If You’re Primal?

I’ve written a lot about the primal dynamic and what it is and what it means to me personally. Shamefully though, I’ve never touched on how you can tell if you are primal – and if you’re new to the lifestyle, this just adds to an ever growing list of dynamics and their rules that can potentially overwhelm you. Especially when being primal and feeling primal can be different for each and every one of us.

So what are some of the ways you can tell?

Behaviour

Take a moment to look back at your behaviour throughout moments in your life. How do you feel when you are naked? Can you recall some mannerisms during sex – a grunt or a growl, a surge of energy rocketing through your entire body? Perhaps a longing for nature – secluded woods, away from society? How do you feel about being outdoors?

Before I even knew what bdsm or being primal was, I was running through acres of land completely naked. I was masturbating in the muddy grounds after a storm. I was scratching and biting and growling during sex.

More importantly, I would experience moments – during sex or when I was horny or even outside of the bedroom – where I felt…different. And I had no idea why or what that meant. I felt different and restless and like I wanted to just find a clearing in a rainforest, lay down to feel the grass on my body and be…free. Away from everything going on in your life.

Manifestations

Maybe it comes out in a moment – you feel different, possessed by some sort of indescribable energy. You want to do things and say things that you know might challenge perceptions – but it’s there, on the tip of your tongue or bubbling to the surface. Maybe it comes out of you like a strike of lightening – you feel it wash over you before you come back down to earth. Maybe you feel like being rough during sex, choking and pulling and being held down or holding down?

I used to be scared of that feeling. I thought I was mentally ill or wired wrong and that no one could ever identify with how I felt because I was weird and unnatural and pushing any boundaries of good taste.

What I failed to see was that I was merely shedding my social profile – letting the primordial feelings come to the forefront of my mind to play and breathe a moment. Feeling strange and weird came about because I would settle back down into the boundaries of society, ready to be a well behaved citizen to the city I was in at the time.

Identity

This one may not extend to everyone – but some primals associate with an animal. They feel linked to the animal world, they feel that behaviour creep in to their mentality and waking life.

Primal folk can have ‘packs’ – groups of close friends with perhaps an unique set of rules and protocols and an established hierarchy. I’m not too well versed on this, I’m afraid, as I’ve mainly been a lone wolf or at least in a pack of two – myself and another.

Have you felt a longing to a particular animal? A call from the wild? A call to adventure? Maybe there’s more animal in you than you might realise – and there’s nothing at all wrong with that.

Primal can also extend to the PREDATOR and PREY state of mind – the urge to chase and roughly tackle and the urge to be chased and to be roughly tackled. Imagine the wrestling in the dirt, connected to the earth, hair strewn across faces in the entanglement – think on that and you’re on the right track.

Being primal means getting to a state of mind in which you are unfiltered, focusing on natural impulses, raw urges and usually a ferocious sexual appetite. It’s not always sexual though, sometimes it can relate to your confidence or your sense of humour, or your social anxiety.

More than this, it’s about retreating back to a place where you can think and feel without stigma, where you can be primitive and animalistic and as feral as you’d like to be.

It’s a beautiful, powerful and freeing to be primal and animalistic – but it can also be terrifying if you don’t know why you’re feeling the way you are.

To those scared of it, I will say this: shoving it far, far away will only make things worse. Instead, sit with your wild feelings. Get to know them. Push yourself but push gently. You have all the time in the world to grow at ease with these new concepts.

If you have any further questions, if I need to clarify on a few things, if you think you are primal and want to talk it over, you are always welcome to get in touch with me either in the comments section below or directly to my email at — darkanddominant@hotmail.com

Please Don’t Hesitate To Write To Me

Every now and then I’ll come into contact with a reader who might express that they took several tries to write in to me before they actually did. Some say they they never would if I didn’t reach out first.

I wholeheartedly understand. It’s hard to communicate about something so personal and intimate and overwhelming. Especially to a stranger.

There have been many times – and I’m sure there are many times to come – where I’ve tried to write a blog post and I’ve deleted several drafts because I’m fidgety and awkward and I feel stupid.

If you’re reading this, and you have wanted to write to me but put it off because of – age, inexperience, maybe English isn’t your first language, maybe you think you’re too weird or I’ll shun you. I’ve even had some tell me that they don’t feel they have a lot of worth and can’t possibly write to me – please don’t let that train of thought get the better of you. Especially with someone like me, who does not judge for any of those things whatsoever.

One of the goals in creating this blog, besides harnessing my own darkness and desires, was to help those like me who felt they were truly alone and had no support. I wanted to offer the opportunity where a person – regardless of sex, identity, tastes, race or experience – could feel free to write to me – to say hello or ask for a perspective or to just shoot the shit, as they say. I love meeting people and helping if need be – I live for it.

So please don’t ever be afraid to approach me, please don’t be afraid of your voice or your interests or who you are. And please don’t put me above yourself, on some higher platform, because I’m just Aussie guy writing on the Internet. As far as I’m concerned, you and I? We’re equals.

And this all extends, not just to writing in to me, but to being yourself as well. Love yourself. Cherish who you are, all dark thoughts and everything that comes with that electric realm of possibilities – because let me tell you, that’s a magical and beautiful thing.

My email or twitter or Instagram is always open. It never closes. There’s never a bad time to write, I’ll never get annoyed by your approach and I certainly won’t be too busy to write a respond to you. I will say this – I am scatterbrained. I’m a man with one foot in the dreamscape and the other in reality. If I don’t respond, it’s because I’m off in my own world planning devious things. I’ll reply before you know it.

Anyway. Here at the end of Easter long weekend, I wanted to write this to the person that may or may not hesitate to write in. Don’t be afraid of this part of yourself, it’s a beautiful thing.

Take care!