The Prisoner

When it comes to writing, especially erotica, there’s always one concept that comes to me and I have no idea from where it originated.

Why did my mind piece together such a surreal, sensuous image? What does that mean for me? Is the image heralding the return of my dominant side? A side that has, I must admit, taken a back seat in the days following a particularly nasty bout of anxiety.

Or was it there all along? Influences and memories and turns on all stitched together under a pale grey sky within my mindscape, waiting to come out?

I ponder all of this as I ponder her – the nude woman lying on her back on the hotel bedroom, illuminated by the soft glow of the room’s television, the only source of light in the room.

I think of this woman – blonde hair folded underneath her, her breasts caught in the quickened rhythm of her breathing. Her nipples, stiff, pointing upwards towards the ceiling.

I can see the faint trace of her ribcage, the slick glean of sweat across her body, beading across her stomach.

I can see the soft fuzz across her slit and, if I peer hard enough at the image, I can see it glisten under the eye of the television.

And I can see the wires – thick, grey, sturdy – wrapped around her body, coiling around her chest and weaving down, snake-like, across her legs and under her ass.

She is bound, held tightly in place. I can only guess how the cables feel across her skin, how they pinch, how they are cool across her breasts.

I can see her arms held high above, locked in position, the cables winding up around her wrists, and I can see that she does not resist. That there is no struggle.

No, quite the opposite. Her body reverberates with an intensity I can feel worlds away. I can feel her pleasure, just as I can feel the pain bite at several points in her body where the cables cling tight.

I can hear her breath catch in her throat, hear her heart in my own ears. I can see her eyes, glued to the image on the television, static. A prisoner of the times.

This bound woman comes without touching one part of her body, is held by the cables as the orgasm hits every inch of her. An electrical current.

I’ve no idea where this image comes from but I feel her there with me every step of the way.

Is Everything Okay? — An Open Letter to those who feel burdened

Sometimes – when we’ve got questions to ask, when we’re feeling low and afraid and alone, we don’t look to anyone, we bottle it inside. Maybe that’s what we’re taught, maybe we think it’s a sign of weakness or maybe you just don’t want to bug that person.

With running my blog and leaving my door open for anyone to approach me should they want to, I unfortunately see a lot of this scared behaviour – which is to really say that I see myself – the anxious individual that doesn’t want to talk out of fear of burdening others, that doesn’t want to ask questions about their own fantasies even if it scares them terribly and they can’t eat or sleep or dream.

For those newcomers or sufferers of anxiety and depression, I hope you know that you aren’t truly alone, even if you feel like it. The people around you, your network of family and friends – they all, truly, care more than you know. I can tell you this because I’m my own worst enemy and I felt the lie before I realised the truth. My family do care. My friends DO CARE. It was me that was twisting truth, with my poisoned mind.

And hey, if you’re like me and don’t have a lot of friends, I’m more than happy to talk with you, regardless of what you have to say. Sometimes it helps running our own bullshit past fresh ears.

But if it’s a simple case of a fantasy guilting you – and this does happen more then you know. Hell, realise that I still shift uncomfortably at my own darker impulses. But if it’s a case of guilt at your own sexuality, or identification, I’ve been wandering the lifestyle myself. I’m here to talk and will never feel burdened or weirded out by what you have to get off your chest. Trust me.

I guess what I’m trying to say is — I’ve had readers of my blog who write in, expressing problems — and then they vanish. They’re from opposites sides of the world so I don’t know if they’re busy – sometimes, occasionally, they will return after they’re mended, sometimes not at all. And while I realise it’s not my place to play mediator or meddle – and I can’t help everyone – it still hurts to know that someone is suffering and they feel they have to be quiet when all they want to do is unload or scream.

Remember – you’re not alone. Anxiety is a twisted delusion. You’ll be okay. One day at a time. And —- I’m always a text or an email away, even in time zones.

Lingering Thoughts On ‘Let Us Pray’

I don’t normally like to indulge on what I write, hoping that people will take pleasure in drawing their own conclusions about certain things.

However. My most recent piece of scribble – Let Us Pray, in which a teenage girl undresses while saying her prayers – has haunted me, shall we say, because there’s a lot in there for me that was interesting to explore as a writer, but maybe as interesting to the reader.

For me, I’m drawn to edgier material. When a devoutly religious character practiced self-flagellation over their own straying thoughts in a piece of entertainment I read, I’m fascinated – because there’s a richness to what they’re feeling and thinking and conflicted about that I find makes for great drama. It’s serious – but it’s underscored with biting sexuality and I, as a religious person myself and as a Dominant man, am conflicted. Because I see this sacrilege, this inflicted pain used as both a form of pleasure and pain – and I am aroused by the image and enchanted by the character as an audience member and as a writer, it’s a meaty development to unpack.

So for my story, what I wanted to explore – for the reader – was this tug-of-War of feelings – a sense that hey, this might be sick, but there’s something erotic about it that is compelling.

Of course, there’s also the alternative – that I didn’t create a rewarding pay off. If that’s the case, I will take the blame – I write vignettes that come to me, hoping that someone – even one person – likes it. But not everything is gold. Which is where I welcome feedback!

But I wanted to explore that feeling of conflict within the reader but also within myself. I mean, it’s blasphemy – but there’s something sensual about it. There’s something darkly delicious about it that compels me.

Perhaps it’s my background, that I was raised to think even the mention of blasphemy in fiction is a massive insult and betrayal of my religion. Maybe that’s partly why I’m here now, scribbling down some sort of half asses analysis on a story I wrote on a whim. I’m not sure.

But the image was too interesting, as a writer, to not flesh out, ever the slightest, for any reader to come and take away to their own world for a heartbeat.

If I’ve failed in entertaining or conveying a sense of eroticism, well, I tried. But I did enjoy the daydream, however fleeting it was.

‘Under Protection’ – What Does It Mean?

When I was new to Fetlife and I saw the ‘under protection of…’ tag on profiles, I didn’t quite understand what it meant. It’s strange wording isn’t it? Sure, it says ‘under protection’, that person is protected – but by who? And what does that mean? And is it a platonic relationship or a romantic one? Just what does it entail?

It’s important to note that the use of the word has different meanings and this all depends on context. For example, a Dominant can be the protector of his or her submissive – but can also be a guidance for his or her trusted newcomer – a completely non-sexual relationship established together upon a set of decided rules.

Which isn’t for everyone, of course. There are those who view a protector as simply a predator preying on unsuspecting newcomers – and this can very much be the case, unfortunately. I hear of it happening time and time again. While others have stated if a person needs a protector in the first place, if they can’t apply critical thinking to what they want to approach, then maybe they should take a step back and wait.

There is also the view that the ‘under protection…’ tag on Fetlife is discouraging to those generally interested in the individual, that the tag does more harm than good and scares away folk.

One of the many viewpoints is that ‘to be under protection’ is to have a trusted friend that can talk you through the concepts of BDSM, vetting play partners (if that’s part of the agreement) and generally be there for you, either in person – to accompany you to live events – or online. What shape this ‘protection’ takes depends entirely on the individual and what they’d like.

If you’re thinking about wanting a protector or protecting someone, make absolutely sure you will define boundaries and terms and ideas, making sure you both are absolutely on the same page, otherwise that can lead to unnecessary drama and hurt and a breakdown in communication.

If you just met someone and you two are considering the label,take some time to get to know them. Talk often. Meet for a coffee date or organise a safe way to communicate online – be sure that they are a healthy fit for you and where you are now – and if you’re not confident or comfortable entirely with the idea, that’s okay too. We really do have all the time in the world.

At the end of the day, being somebody’s protector can mean entirely different things for entirely different people. It could be non-sexual, it could be a Friends-With-Benefits scenario where the submissive is accompanied to munches and clubs as moral support, it could just be moral support and a voice of guidance along the way, customised to an extent. It really depends on what people want and how people feel and I could be here all day discussing scenarios.

If you’re new to Fetlife and new to kink and this sounds appealing, try not to rush into it. Be careful. There are those out there who will abuse your trust to get their quick fix. They can easily be sussed out, their lack of interest and patience can be evident generally. Just be wary – but don’t despair! There’s plenty of good out there too.

In Our Life

‘Hey hun?’

‘Mm?’

‘Where did the last of those biscuits go?’

I was a typical man foraging for sweets instead of a proper food.

‘I eated them.’

Behind closed doors, away from work, friends or family, I see someone else.

You might find it annoying, you might find that I, as a writer, lover of the written word, guardian of the prose, would find it annoying – but I don’t.

It’s interesting how different we are to one another, niceties slipping away, masks falling off to reveal the true face beneath.

Where work would hear ‘I ate them.’, I hear the little girl speaking through my kitten’s lovely voice, soft and smooth and sweet.

D/s and all its wonders, engrained into our life.

My 2018 in Review

2018 was the beginning of many things for me – I had began an odyssey into a new career for starters and my lady and I moved deeper into our relationship, inside D/s and outside, about ourselves and how we relate to one another.

Then there was mentoring. Where once I was too shy and insecure to think that I, of all people, could mentor, Now I felt I could be of some assistance to people, new to the lifestyle or just looking for advice.

It was a year of maturity and of things in my life, me most of all, maturing.

Confidence grew in our relationship, in both of us, to be more vocal about our wants and needs. This came about by experiencing the daily grind of life – work and tiredness leading to forgetfulness, to personas leading to a vanilla week, which – while not terrible – was lacking for both of us. Which in turn led to truths and love deepening and strengthening and – Kink reigniting in the most explosive and passionate ways. It was a realisation that life and moods can fluctuate but that we were strong together, more now then ever.

Mentoring taught me lessons too. The most important of all, really, is that I can’t help everyone. I can only be there as much I can – that the rest is up to the individual or the couple.

I learned to teach and be informative in a way that was objective rather than personal. I had to be conscious that I wasn’t just being biased towards links or tastes, that I was speaking freely about all manners.

In turn I made a lot of wonderful acquaintances, some for a month before life’s distractions got in the way, others in the long term. All of them wonderful and lovely. Some as long as they needed.

Oh and I surprised myself. I discovered that teaching or helping or mentoring or being there is very important to me. That I may need it as much as the individual, that it speaks to my soul. I never felt impatient or bored, I felt ready to give my all. Sometimes I even felt Daddy-like, nurturing in a way. Eager to guide.

It’s true I’m still painfully awkward, but I do my best hoping I don’t sound like a creep or – worst case scenario – unhelpful.

So in the end, 2018 was about maturity for me, in myself and in my relationship and in other aspects of my life as well.

Where 2019 goes, I have no idea. I only hope it’s as filled with warmth and love as last year and that I continue to meet wonderful strangers, questions or no questions!

And to you, dear readers, here’s to making beautiful memories in your year! I hope it’s a year of magic and wonder and laughter!

End Of Year Q/A! AMA!

After two seperate encounters this week, one in which a reader wrote in mentioning they wanted to write to me but wasn’t sure how to – and the other, talking to a new submissive about the very meaning of rules and protocol in a D/s relationship, I realise just how hard it is for someone – young or old – to sort out their feelings and to understand just what it is they’ve been trying to describe.

So since I didn’t do a November Q/A or AMA and there have been a few new followers from Tumblr since it’s purging of adult content (Welcome!), I thought I’d create this space for newcomers or people who have questions to ask them here or if they choose, at my email at darkanddominant@hotmail.com

Let me be honest – I’m writing this now for two reasons – the first because I will get a message in which the author apologises profusely for bugging me or taking up my time or for writing at length – and it doesn’t bother me at all. Not one iota. So reading that I can understand, but it certainly still breaks my heart.

The second because it occurred to me (as it does at several intervals in the year) how easy it can be to get lost inside your own head in a D/s relationship, especially if you’re young and new to the lifestyle – or just don’t know who to talk to.

It can be easy to take for granted what I know – but I forget – it doesn’t come easily to someone new.

To that end, please PLEASE feel free to write as much or as little as you’d like. No email is too long, no comment is too meandering. I don’t judge on naivety or inexperience and I certainly don’t shame or think people silly for their thoughts.

I can also use any questions in a forthcoming post so that it can be informative for anyone that has an interest in that line of questioning.