In Which I Discuss Teenage Readership (If Any)

When I was a teenager, I felt isolated from the adult world. I felt like there was a secret community I wasn’t a part of, that there was a joke I couldn’t hear yet because I didn’t know it. 

Some adults treated me that way. They’d scoff if I asked a naive question. They’d laugh with others if I showed a moment of weakness and fear,

Just recently, I had an email from a reader in which they felt the need to clarify they were 18+. And I get that, because if I had to rate my blog it’d probably be 18+ for its Erotica and sometimes my language. 

But, readers, at the same time I’m conflicted. I’m conflicted because I don’t want to be that adult that isolates a teenager from learning or asking questions. Because I was that teenager. And looking back, I’d like to think there could be an adult that was available for questions, should they write in to me. In which case I would never turn anyone away or betray their trust.

At the same time, teenagers are growing up way too fast. When I was a teenager, the internet was still in its dial up stages. Blogs and information wiki’s were unheard of. And now teenagers have access to all that, should they so desire. So maybe this blog post is all for naught. Maybe it’s all good. My blog – after all – is just a drop of water in an ocean of information. 

However, I will say this: if you’re under 18 or just on 18, if you need to run a question by me or need reassurance you’re not insane, you’re not alone. You can write to me and I can promise you I won’t judge. 

Somehow you’ve found yourself here, and through my blog there are some other beautiful blog authors that can help you. You’ve found a friendly network now.

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In Which I Discuss Teenage Readership (If Any)

When I was a teenager, I felt isolated from the adult world. I felt like there was a secret community I wasn’t a part of, that there was a joke I couldn’t hear yet because I didn’t know it. 

Some adults treated me that way. They’d scoff if I asked a naive question. They’d laugh with others if I showed a moment of weakness and fear,

Just recently, I had an email from a reader in which they felt the need to clarify they were 18+. And I get that, because if I had to rate my blog it’d probably be 18+ for its Erotica and sometimes my language. 

But, readers, at the same time I’m conflicted. I’m conflicted because I don’t want to be that adult that isolates a teenager from learning or asking questions. Because I was that teenager. And looking back, I’d like to think there could be an adult that was available for questions, should they write in to me. In which case I would never turn anyone away or betray their trust.

At the same time, teenagers are growing up way too fast. When I was a teenager, the internet was still in its dial up stages. Blogs and information wiki’s were unheard of. And now teenagers have access to all that, should they so desire. So maybe this blog post is all for naught. Maybe it’s all good. My blog – after all – is just a drop of water in an ocean of information. 

However, I will say this: if you’re under 18 or just on 18, if you need to run a question by me or need reassurance you’re not insane, you’re not alone. You can write to me and I can promise you I won’t judge. 

Somehow you’ve found yourself here, and through my blog there are some other beautiful blog authors that can help you. You’ve found a friendly network now.

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.

 

Manifestation

Do you understand the power of the human mind?Do you understand the strength of that power?

We hallucinate. Our minds play tricks on us. 
When we’re tired, sometimes we conjure up manifestations that aren’t there. Conversations that never happen.
When we wake from our dream, sticky with sweat in the comforting light of day, we are safe from our minds. But at night? At night, you should take heed. Imagination is a magical, unwieldy power. 

So. You can look in my direction, safe with the knowledge you are secure from your lawn opposite the street. You can put your feet up on the couch or lay them across your partner while your babe sleeps. 
You can convince yourself you’re happy with your life, day in day out. Feed yourself, take care of yourself, feed the babe, take care of the babe.

But.

In the dead of the night. When it’s quiet. When not even the crickets will sing for you, find your anchor. Find your safe spot, your warm comfort. Find what light within you that you can.
Because if you think. If you think of me.
I will materialise before you.
Out of the dark, out of the shadows cast by the moonlight that filters in through your window, my form will appear.
And before you can turn on the light, the safe comfort, I will grab you by the ankle and drag you back within my reach. Back into the darkness. 

The more you indulge this thought path, the stronger I grow. 
The stronger I grow, the more I become self-aware. 
When that occurs, where does your original thought, your fantasy, end and my thoughts begin.  

A runaway mind would lead you to having your clothes torn completely off. 
Could you guess that your singlet top and shorties could be peeled off, curled off, torn off, across the room so easily?
Had you wondered how you might scream to your snoring partner who fell asleep on the couch downstairs? Did you wonder how you could even get out a scream? We both know you can’t raise your voice. You were never good at it. 

When you’re on your stomach, completely nude, your hair down and out across your back and past your shoulders, will this be my fantasy? Or yours?
Would my gaze, resting upon your pale bare ass, be your desire? Or mine?
Would your wet cunt, filling the bedroom with its delightful aroma, be offered to me for tribute? 

And when I pull you up to your knees and back into me….when I take your ass….is this a delicious act reserved for me, for us, in this moment? Or a product of a scrapped fantasy, something your boyfriend shows no interest in?

If you think, just for one second, you open the doorway between worlds. 

If you open the doorway between worlds, you run the risk of inviting me into your bedroom.

That power is yours. 

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.  

The Primal Aspect in Me

Sometimes I feel like I could tear out the jugular of any man that hits on my lady. On what’s mine.

Sometimes there is a flash behind my eyes – and I can see an alternate reality where I have taken a baseball bat to the creeper’s grim grinning face. 

I’m not a violent man. I don’t like confrontations. I know this is just the primal aspect in me. The animal part that protects his property. But I have the thought all the same. 

And maybe that’s just a product of the human mind. Cats knead their favourite bedding material because of their ancestors, maybe my need to defend and protect my lady from discomfort is because of my ancestors and their violent ways. 

OR it’s just 2-32am and I’m thinking way too much into things. And I’m just a dastardly violent and handsome man. 

I told my kitten my thoughts on this and she smiled shyly. It was the smile that says ‘I can’t find the words to express my thoughts on that, so I’ll smile’. She’s always been that way, shy at expressing her desire and interest in me. I’m the same. My mother was terribly shy and I get it from her.

In the end, there is a freedom to learning the behavioural aspects of the primal mindset. There’s beauty there, raw and unfiltered. 
I have been researching and pursuing it since I started out in this lifestyle and am still learning. 

Have I become the overbearing Father Figure?

You know the one. The one that continually expresses concern, long after the person says, perhaps with an eye roll, ‘Dad, I’m fine’.

Maybe, in the absence of not having children, my mind, the part that is biologically ready to break out into fatherhood, was just assimilated by my Daddy Dominant state of mind.

If you’re wondering if I’ve gone mad, you’re probably not wrong. But the psychological state of affairs when it comes to BDSM and the relationship it has with my mind will fascinate me endlessly.

If I had to analyse right here right now, I would say my personality, the one that got the rug pulled out from under him in regards to how people can deceive or manipulate, the one that developed an anxiety disorder, now lays everything out on the table with people. I’m honest because I expect that in return. How they respond is their choice – but me? I want to be pure. I don’t want deceit or manipulation or fear.

And the older I get, and the more confident or used to who I am and my place in the world, my personality has kind of matured into this Father Figure. And BECAUSE of what I experienced through friendship and relationships, I’m overbearing in my caring.

It happens with my lady – I’ll send her to bed if I notice her eyes falling out of her head. It happens to my friend, when I ask if she’s happy where she is in life. And it happens to people who write in sometimes, where I try to create as safe a place as possible for them to feel at ease if they want to ask what they feel is a silly question. 

Not everybody wants to chat in a prolonged state, sure. But more often then not, I can sense when there’s a sentence on the tip of someone’s tongue and they either don’t want to burden me – this stranger – or they feel – well, pick one. Silly. Strange. Ashamed. Pathetic.

So now I try to combat that, albeit gently, by creating a safe space to each and every one. And if that’s annoying, I’ll take the blame of being this overbearing, slightly strict father figure or Daddy Dominant.

Just know I’m aware of this aspect and ease it when I sense it! After all, who wants a lame Dad?