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.

12 Days of Kinkmas – Day #12 – The Dreamer

They were real to him. Every one of them.

When he slept they knelt by his ear, whispering their wicked delights, lamenting their haunted lives.

They crowded the room, waiting for their time, their chance to speak, to be heard.

When he woke, they appeared before him, always in his bedroom, in his living room, dressed from another life, waiting just for him. Waiting to continue.

When he wrote, they appeared in his dreams, guiding him as their lives fell from their lips in smooth velvet voices.

Their lives, their memories, their existence were as real, as living and breathing and flesh and blood and messy and alive as his existence was.

When he was done, they’d smile and leave the room, out of sight and out of mind, gone but immortalised, leaving room for the next of them to visit.

12 Days of Kinkmas: Day #11 – “A Kitten for Christmas”

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She kept the best gift for last.
After all was unwrapped on their quiet Christmas morning, after they had their breakfast together – coffee and blueberry bagels – she disappeared into the spare room of their first house together, pulling open the cupboard door and reaching up over head to grab the box with the red and white stripes pattern.
She returned to him waiting on the couch patiently, hands in lap, and gently sat the box down in his lap.
“What’s this?” He asked, eyeing the box suspiciously.

She knew he didn’t like surprises – and something in her delighted in this small twist of fun she was doing to him – but she nodded towards him in a gesture that said open it and see.
He did so, carefully lifting the lid with both arms to see — the contents wrapped in plain gold wrapping paper.
He sighed, the way he knew she found funny, and paid no mind to the delicate wrapping paper, tearing it free and finding –
Cat ears around a headband.
He pulled it out of the box, running his hands over the black fuzz on the ears.
She couldn’t supress the smile on her face, it spread like wildfire, her cheeks taking the full brunt of the force.
Below the cat ears was a pink collar, as soft and fuzzy as the ears, with a little silver pendant attached reading Kitten.

“Interesting…just your size.”
He placed the collar on the cat ears – there was more to come.
Below the collar was a medium sized butt-plug, sleek and black. Attached to the end of it was a cat tail, soft and fuzzy (again) with a white stripe down the middle of it. All of this bought for just $79.99 – though he would never know that.
“I…must say. I am lost for words.”
She knew this, could tell this, from just the sound of his voice. He had this tone about him when he couldn’t find the words. It was a sweet feature. Genuine and shy and honest.

She could tell he liked it though, she could see thatin his eyes, the way they lit up with mischief, his mind going a million miles an hour just thinking of the possibilities.
Before she could talk about it, before she could say what was on her mind or even address how they’ve both been wanting to explore this part of themselves for the better part of their busy year, he was already getting up, pink fuzzy collar in hand.
“May I…Or would you rather –“

She was already brushing the intruding hair out of her eyes and behind her neck before he could finish.
With the collar attached, warm and snug around her neck, she felt truly at home – comfortable. At peace. She could tell by the way his eyes were beginning to glass over at he was at the same spot she was.

He put his arm around her and drew her in for a cuddle.