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.

12 Days of BDSM Christmas 2017 – #5: Baby, It’s Cold Outside



My hand is clasped around the chain that clings to her leash, our leash. The one we picked out together.

She stood before me, dressed down in all of the ways; pink splotches covered her nipples where I had smacked her gently moments ago. Her face wears a frown.

She had on her heel boots, the one she wore to work this morning. This much I let her do.


Maybe she had a rough day at work, we all have rough days at work, but I did warn her. Gently.

I told her that her sass has no place at the dinner table.

For whatever reason, she chose to ignore that reason.

This act wasn’t a mistake, an error in judgment, no she knew the rules – we went over them by candlelight the night I claimed her in the great storm of 2016. Every detail, every loophole, every reason was covered. If I made a mistake, she corrected me. If she made a mistake, I corrected her. And tonight, well tonight she was at fault.


I must admit, when I told her her punishment and a hint of fear flickered in her eyes, there was a little tickle deep down in my cock. My love, ever smart and anticipating, caught unaware.

‘Baby, it’s cold outside’ she said, slipping into her baby girl mode instantly.

‘You should’ve thought of that, my sweetling’ I replied.


Her frown as she undressed, lifting her floral dress overhead and tossing it to the floor to reveal today’s underwear – a black strapless bra and rainbow panties, laced with black lace on the outskirts of the fabric – made me grin. I could feel that side coming out of me then. The primal side. The sadistic side. The Master was meeting the Daddy half way and merging.


‘Leave the boots’ I said. ‘We can’t have your feet frozen’

She looked at me venomously but I did not relent. A punishment is a punishment, which is the nature of the beast.


In silence I fitted her collar around her, the one she wears at home once she slips into her around-the-house clothes, and in silence I led her outside.


My heart began to flutter. Would there be people walking their dogs tonight? It was 7-30pm; the sun was yet to set. It was certainly likely.


I moved ahead of her, keeping my hand back, forcing her to walk behind me. That was how you kept Dominance with pups’ right? And tonight, she was my little puppy.


We turned the corner and began to walk down Lavender Street. Suburbia was quiet. No domestic arguments, no dogs barking or cats fighting. It’s as if the neighborhood knew the punishment as well. Perhaps that was true. If it weren’t by now, it certainly would be soon.


I looked back at my little puppy. Her little pixie hair was an auburn tangle, her green eyes fierce and fixed on me. I kept my gaze until she broke it, looking down at her feet. Not something we practiced, but I didn’t raise it at that point in time. I would carry out the punishment before I showed any warmth.


With her eyes down, I looked down at her body. They were covered with Goosebumps, prickles all over her arms and breasts. Her small breasts in the moonlight took on an ethereal form. She is my angel, she always will be. I hope she remembers that.

In that moment, I wanted to lower my mouth onto her hard pink nipples. Perhaps my saliva would make her cold but hopefully the warmth that comes from such an action might counteract such coolness.


Nevertheless, I strayed my mouth. This was a punishment after all – and I will fulfill it. Around the block, was the full punishment. Nothing more, nothing less.


The weather tonight was a cool 16 degrees Celsius. There was a bite to the air and a gentle breeze that traveled up my spine every so often. The primal being within me chuckled at the idea of it affecting my little puppy. I felt strange for the feeling, a pang of guilt hit me, but I shook the thought before it could spread like an illness through my mind.


The sweet and heavenly image of her bare ass, pale and covered in goosebumps, brought me back from the darkness – and I found myself smiling.


I looked back at her, my little puppy, which cast her eyes down at the ground as she walked along behind me, the chain rattling as we moved.


We turned the corner – another right. Just another right at the end of this street and we’ll be back on the street we live in. I’ll turn on the heater; I’ll let her pick a movie.


Behind her, my little puppy kept her arms by her legs. Her mound was neatly trimmed. I wonder if I should ask her to style a new design for me. What would she say? How would she feel? Hm.


She felt my gaze and looked up at me, and in that moment something seized my chest. What I said about her being an angel, something ethereal, was genuine. But in the light of the dim streetlight, she looked mythical. It gave me chills and I wanted to kiss her there and then. I could’ve very easily taken her, lying her down on what could be the wet grass and slide into her just to hear her deep grunts. Something about that was so….there is no decent word.


There came a cough from ahead of us – and my little puppy whined.

With a gentle tug of the chain, she began moving again.

When a woman and man came into view, walking their lab, the woman let out a noise signifying distaste. The yellow lab bounded over to us, eager to sniff my little puppy’s body. For a second, I was eager to let it. But the couple, their faces twisting into snarls in the night, wheeled the lab back and quickened the pace. My little pup and I kept moving.


Shortly, we arrived back m out the front of our house, my little pup close behind me, her frozen hands on her body as I turned the key in the door and stepped inside.


I ran her a bath, hot but not scalding, hoping it would bring her back into our realm, back into our house.


As she slid down into the bath, sighing as steam rose off her mythical body, she whispered low and wavering. I didn’t catch what she said and I didn’t ask her to repeat it, I let her bask in the warmth.


Should BDSM be taught in Sex Ed. in High Schools?

My kitten brought this article to my attention:
If someone were to ask me if BDSM should be taught in Sex Ed in High School, I would answer yes. Absolutely yes.
Here’s why: Because there’s a good chance students are struggling with feeling isolated or alienated because they don’t understand. 
Because it will guide students between right and wrong ways of Dominance and submission.
Because it can teach students about connection and safety.
I’m not saying to go in depth, with prac and such. Lord no! But health and safety is priority and as such, an exercise in BDSM could very well be what the student requires. It could be something cleansing in the area for mental health. 
Now it’s easy for me to say that. I don’t have children. I don’t plan on it. I can’t possibly know what it’s like to be a parent. Maybe the idea of a teacher teaching that is strange. But sex ed is already sort of strange and there should or would be a study plan drawn up so its kept educational and not harmful or uncomfortable. 
I’ve been in a position where I’ve had the opportunity to respond to questions from teenagers who have read my blog. It’s satisfying in that it helps me with the sense of sadness that I feel for those out there that need help but are afraid to come and seek help. To those people, I would say to come forward. To me or to anyone you feel you can trust. Because there is no shame. That is absolute, for anything. Anything. 
Off my high horse now, navigating teenage life and all its turmoil is tough. Navigating those feelings, like you’re a freak, like what you want is wrong, is terrifying. I will tell you as an adult, doing all sorts of kink still hits my system of a tonne of bricks. Like I need to feel guilty for being an animal. Primal. Who I fucking am.
So to me, a unit in sex ed. would help combat these feelings. It could help with stress, mental health, isolation, insecurity, the whole she bang of self hatred. 
It’ll probably never happen because people might rally against and use all sorts of ill informed malarkey about it. But the thing those people need to take away from this is that it could combat mental health. 
Until then, I’m like some BDSM vigilante in the night*. Helping those in need. Appearing in open windows and fuelling your dreams with the darkness that comes from my mind. Making you wonder if the thing that challenges you, frightens you, might very well turn you on.
Until then, I’m happy to do my best to help those who want it, need it. It’s why I started this blog. It’s why I started my Kik.
*= I’m joking, in case you think I’m being self important. 

A Toast: To 400 followers (THANKYOU)

You better believe I am doing it every 100 or so because fuck, guys – I am just some dorky dark guy from Australia, who admittedly didn’t think much of himself. I never expected to touch so many lives.

And yet, here I am. Here we are.

Group hug?

But seriously, thank you.For what it’s worth, thank you. For support, kind words, and for coming out of your shell to talk to me.

And should there be anyone lurking my pages and wanting to talk but can’t find the words? Please email me, even if it’s what you perceive to be a mess of words. Because you don’t get it, if I can just help you, even if its a slither of help, then it’s made my day. Because it’s why I leave this blog open. YOU’RE the reason. So never feel out of place.

I’ve been busy as all hell lately but my semester is finishing soon and that means, a lot more time to lurk your pages and write more for whoever’s reading. So be prepared. It might possibly be dark.



Summer. Heat. Sweat. Arousal.

Trust me to take something obscure and turn it sexual. 

This Australian heat, friends, is insane. 41 degrees Celsius it climbed too today and all I could do. Pretty much all I did do was lay in the darkness of my bedroom completely naked.

Just sitting, sweating, thinking. The sentence “heaving, lightly perspiring chest” might seem sexual to you…well, maybe not. But it wasn’t. It was humid and gross.

And yet. Writhing, sweaty bodies moving and dancing and buckling come to mind. 

The dance comes to mind. Brutal, passionate. Fiery, burning, breath taking, scorching. The bed sheets are slick with sweat. She coos while I suckle on her nipple with as much force as I can muster.

That happened, of course, later in the afternoon. Sweat trickled and glistened down our bodies as we played together in our little darkened bubble.

I came intensely, my cock throbbing as it emptied my load.

You know, for the life of me I can’t remember what I was talking about. Oh – that’s it. Summer certainly bites but this is the thing, sweaty rocking bodies in a particular rhythm? Totally sexy, totally sensual and totally worth it in the end.

Goodnight from Australia, for the international readers. Let the bed bugs bite and the naughty dreams roll on!

Welcome to 2016


Hello all my lovely readers and welcome to another year. I’m excited. I am buzzing. I have no idea what’s going to come from it but I just have a feeling I will be going to places I never thought knew existed. And YOU’RE going to come experience it with me.

In my blog, I’ve touched upon a few dark things. I’ve convinced people to come over to the dark side. Now I want to bring a whole lot more people into this lifestyle, help wake them up I should say, so that everyone’s life is richer. So: I want to go deeper (in all ways possible 😉 ) I want to talk more, help more people, write more.


I took a look at my stats the week I was away in the sticks at my folks and I see people were visiting from Sweden, from Japan, from Norway, Thailand, Germany. And I have absolutely idea why or even how they came across me. Some people were even visiting my page on Christmas, which they totally should not have done because I am totally not worthy on such a day.

So will people do something for me? If you’re visiting this, whether today or six months from now, write in. Say hello. Say what brings you here and hopefully you will say what you are afraid to say because I always want to help. Always.


SAY I had a teenage daughter. Lets say she’s 19, to not make it too weird. Say that teenage daughter came home from a party a bit tipsy and wandered into my bedroom because sober daughter is a Daddy’s Girl. Could I stop her from lowering her mouth on my cock, if she wanted to? There’s a line that is drawn but what if we cross it? What becomes of us then? Are we monsters, sick and psychopathic? Or are we how the universe designed us? As animals?  Why do we not talk about this and instead, say, masturbate over it in the comfort of our homes? Questions to ponder. But I think about how good it feels to slide into my kitten and I think about how that might feel to tackle forbidden fruits.


Today, while writing, I wandered onto a porn site and on the list of fun things to watch was a video about a woman getting an enema. Up to that point, I have had zero interest in trying that. It just doesn’t seem like my thing, especially with all that there is to play with. But this video was sensual. There was something that commanded me to view it. Maybe it was the idea of being in control while doing it, maybe it was the images that tapped into the pleasure centre of my brain, who knows, but I enjoyed watching. Which is, I must admit, new to me.

That’s all of my thoughts for today.

My love for the ‘baby girls’

I love baby girls. I love little ones. Whatever definition you want to put to that adorable persona, I love that.

This one is hard to write because at the same time, there are an infinite number of submissives that are beautiful people and equally as intoxicating. But I guess, It seems to me – in my never ending quest to ‘find myself’ – that the submissive that I am drawn to is the little girl persona. Or maybe it’s just my mindset in this particular moment, I’m unsure.
Remember how I said I had an overwhelming need to help people in this field and more? Kind of like a BDSM therapist, to risk sounding conceited? Well the Daddy Dom in me gets that way at times – where I crave that persona – the girl to tuck into bed, read Alice in wonderland to and buy colouring books for. And if she eats all her vegetables, she will get a reward – my cock hovering over her tits as I praise her magnificent body.

It goes beyond sexuality and persona though. I am interested in her identity. Who is she? Where has she come from? Seeds have been planted for her to grow into something so sweet and I want to understand her. To me, that’s a big part of why I write as well on this site. It just makes me sit back and wonder and write long sprawling entries like these.

But, ugh, just look at the photo I have put in this entry. A topless girl with her favourite teddy, in her own skin and smiling. Gorgeous. I love it.

So I guess the concept sings to me because there’s a Dad in me that comes out every so often. And that is beautiful to me.