It’s Okay To Be Single

I don’t know how to begin such an opening so let me cut right to the chase. Christmas time, as much as it can be about joy and family and togetherness, can be alienating and depressing to the person who is single. Suddenly something so joyful becomes this gnawing absence and in the company of family, with couples of their own, it can be painfully lonely existence.

But it’s okay to be alone.

As a society, we’re so focused on coupling right? I mean, if you’re single chances are family or co workers are asking why that is or they’re saying how good it would be for you to find someone, to settle down – hell, so me might say even how parenthood can mature you so — have kids. Thanks Grandad!

But being single is a good thing. Learning how to be on your own is a good thing. With it comes independence and acceptance and time and patience and awareness of who you are and what you want.

Jumping into a relationship can be a dreadfully dangerous experience. Even more so if you’re a newcomer to BDSM and Dominance and submission and you’re looking for a partner for guidance. As a new Dominant, you can make mistakes and hurt a submissive and yourself. As a submissive, you could fall prey to an over-eager abusive false dominant.

Being alone means growth and reflection and time to yourself. Being alone means growing accustomed to silence. Being alone means finding what you want, in a partner, as a dominant or submissive, as a individual in so many different ways.

When my marriage broke down and I moved back to my folks, I was – for the first time in years, alone. I was sleeping by myself, cut off from talking daily to my ex wife. I had my parents to talk to, but that didn’t seem to help you know? It didn’t fill this uncomfortable void in me that was so used to sharing time with my partner.

It took a month of silence from her, a month of reflection and many soulful sessions where I’d write and record songs, red-eyed and desperate, about my existence. And I’ve already spoken about this sense of my life feeling as one complete story and thus I should commit suicide as being a total rational thought – it’s scary.

But. I did it. I became used to being by myself. I rebooted my life, the way I saw my life, and for the next few months I began a rebirth of sorts.

What I’m trying to say is this – you don’t need anyone to complete you. You don’t need a relationship to feel content or rewarded. There is nothing wrong with you for being single, despite what you feel or how your friends and family feel – and you certainly can take as much time as you want to figure things out.

And if you’re thinking ‘Well, I know I can be single, I just want someone’ – that’s fine too. Just remember to take time, remember to be patient and remember to look inside of yourself to find what you want, which is easier said than done – but it will come. Just don’t rush.

Some of us, we’re not used to being alone. But we can learn to be in time.

I wish you all a merry time if you’re celebrating Christmas, a merry time regardless if you’re not. Whatever festivities I’m unaware of, if you’re partaking it, I wish you a merry time, a safe time and a time of fine company, fine food and beautiful memories.

As always if you have any questions, feel a bit down or just want to chew a piece of my mind about one of my stories or this piece, you can reach me here or at

Writing In The Dark: A Reflection

The other day I thought about my own writing on this blog. I wanted to critique my own writing, not in some self-indulgent wank way, but in the hopes that maybe through my rambling, it might answer a question someone wanted to ask.

The main question I’ve gotten is – why so dark?

And I don’t know if I can properly answer that, but I’m willing to try:

It’s dark because I find that fascinating.

Anything that comes out on this blog is some strange fantasy of mine, something that comes in the dead of the night, something that comes to a sleepy mind, something that comes in a lucid dream – or day dream.

This blog here is like a box. Or maybe a prison. Some kind of container I expunge these darker impulses into – and that’s why, for the most part, they are coarse and unrefined.

I know my writing can be lacking or grammatical incorrect or what have you, because you’re looking at the very first draft, scribbled hastily as I’m possessed by images, sounds, settings, all merging together to create something divine and deep an dark.

I do this primarily to share with the world. As a writer of course my goal is to thrill and arouse, but in another way the goal here is to put out these twisted thoughts to show others that you’re not insane, there’s someone else as strange or gothic as you! Whether any of this stories achieve their goal, I don’t know – maybe they don’t and maybe they do.

In any case, I need to write for myself. Because I too hope I’m not alone in the world, in my fantasies.

But to circle back to an earlier reason – I write these things because I’m fascinated by the mindsets involved. The battle of wits, the tangles of bodies, the power play. The struggle.

It’s a canvas to explore my animalistic nature, my sadism, the thoughts that scare me. Sometimes it’s about empowerment given to the lady in the story – the one that assumes control, from below. Sometimes it’s nothing more but a transcript of a dream. An intimate look into my mind.

I like to challenge perceptions, push limits of characters or reader. I don’t know if I’ve done that but I like to try. I like to push my own limits, see how deep I can go.

I rarely have an ending in mind when I write. A story lives it’s own life. Characters come alive and I’m merely transcribing how they react through whatever means I can.

I do this in a fever dream, tasting and seeing and experiencing as I go. I’m the first reader to see it, in a way. An observer.

Hopefully this has shed some light on the writing process for those that have wondered or are interested. If you have any questions, let me know!

Reflections And Other Musings

Back in 2015, when I first started this blog, I wrote a post – an admittedly not-very-well-thought-out post – about punishments.

In it I rambled, as I tend to do, about discoveries, feelings and things I were exploring. One of them being that I experimented with taking my kitten’s collar away if the punishment was bad enough. I know, I know. I cringe too. I don’t know why I overlooked it. I was green. Naive. Young.

When I saw how damaging it was, how it affected her mindset, well I apologised profusely. I spiralled, as I tend to do, into a funk. A depression. I can’t help it, depression goes hand in hand with my anxiety and at the end of the day, I fucked up. Worse of all, I fucked up with such a beautiful and genuine and sweet soul.

It was an eye opener for me for many reasons. I learned what was wrong. I learned that I was being harmful, selfish even.

It’s my fault. Though I’ve been fine tuning my Dominance since I was 17-18, living with my lady and being in a 24/7 environment – a fully fledged 24/7 interaction was something I wasn’t used to. And though books and interactions helped, This was D/s on an adult level you know?

It taught me to be more mindful. To communicate. I could feel myself grow in a way, like a fog was lifting.

I’ve always been slow on the uptake but this was like someone shining a light on the topic, A Clockwork Orange-style.

We communicate openly now. Thoroughly. And though communication can sometimes be lost on a tired mind or just lost in translation, it’s that communication that irons out the wrinkle. All because I fucked up.

It’s beautiful to feel like this in a way. I mean, I still veer towards self hatred for being such a dumbass. But at the same time, coming to reason and understanding is calming.

I’m reminded of an old science fiction film, in which an extraterrestrial race looks down on humanity and comments how, even in whatever year it is, no matter how old, they’re still so young. It’s my way of trying to not feel so bad, I guess.

I still apologise for it sometimes, when anxiety holds a mirror to everything I think is negative. And she always responds kindly, which makes me feel worse. And around and around we go.

Take it from me. If you make a mistake, don’t dwell on it as I have, even in this lifestyle. Be better than that. Learn from it, understand it.

And guys? Thanks for reading and being so supportive. It means more then you know!





This one’s just a short one, born out of the notion of looking at people and thinking of what kind of life they lead. I went for intimate and short but sweet. Let me know how I went.


Picture this, if you will.
A blonde woman arrives home dressed in her work uniform, a dull grey top with black suit pants.
With a sigh, she throws down her purse, a simple pink thing, and collapses on the bed.
She is 24 and lives with her mother. She is single. She works Monday-Friday, nine to five, at a shoe shop. And this afternoon, she is exhausted.
Her room features walls decorated by a collection of album covers from her favourite artist – Led Zeppelin, The Doors, Cream – it was her dad that led her to fall in love with the rock and roll of the sixties and seventies.
The woman runs a hand through her long blonde hair and registers that it needs a cut. She sighs. Something else to keep track of across the week.
With that, she reaches down and slips out of her black pants.
Her legs, slender and pale, stretch across the floor, sliding against the fabric of the carpet.
She glances down at her underwear – plain bright green boylegs – and hooks her fingers around the elastic and pulls them off.
It falls to the floor twisted and crumpled.
From there, she unbuttons her top. That falls to the floor as well.
She’s wearing a black bra. It’s nothing fancy but it’s the kind of thing that becomes fancy in its plainness. Pretty soon that falls off as well, tumbling onto her blouse on the floor.
The blonde woman stretches back completely naked and feels the ceiling fan skim air down to her small breasts.
A lifetime ago, she would have hated her breasts – absolutely hated them.
Now, she thinks they’re the best thing about her.
She couldn’t describe why, perhaps it was just age that led her to see the appeal within herself.
With that, she fell into a peaceful nap.

The submissive’s gift


In an email a reader sent to me, she asked me if the trust a Dominant puts into a submissive is greater or just as great than the submissive’s trust when they give over their body.

It’s an interesting question but it was one I didn’t need to mull over. It was one that I wanted to write about here, because it’s a topic I feel worthy of rambling about. When the submissive gives over her body, I think they are putting themselves outside of their comfort zone – way way out there into the depths where they will be without a torch until their Dominant arrives. They are putting their life in the hands of the Dominant and hoping that he/she will guide them safely through the journey.

Just think about everything you have experienced or want to experience and then think about the trust that this submissive is putting into their Dominant one. Crazy, risky and yet — beautiful, eh?

Now I realise that the Dominant One is putting a lot of trust into the submissive as well. Trusting them to voice their opinions, to accept their ideas, to follow orders, to accept their little sexual quirks and so forth. I’d be lying if I said Dominants aren’t vulnerable. We’re human too. We fuck up too. We aren’t always the strong man ready to tackle you to bed and shackle you. So the idea of presenting your deepest darkest secrets to someone else’s soul – that takes a lot of trust.

But you’re not really giving your body over to someone, are you? YOU are the one in charge of that body. How they address you, how they kneel, how they dress, when they masturbate, when they are allowed to climax. When their pale ass is spread across your legs, glistening with sweat and quivering with fear, they are trusting you will take care of them. Punish them if they need it but glide them back down to Earth when you are done.

So lets take the time to acknowledge the gift of the submissive – their body and their soul. Do you know how you can live through a day but not really stop to think about what that means? Have you ever looked at your living room while sitting in it and thought: Here I am, alive, lucky, in this place I love? We take things for granted. There’s no shame in it, we all do it. But when your submissive is standing or kneeling before you, remind yourself of what it has meant for them to take that step and thank them. Because his/her submission is truly a gift and just so happens to be one of the greatest gifts of all.