Just Write

So. I just got an email from a reader of my blog and it struck me as sad and it’s for these reasons that I want to write this piece.

If you’re going to write in to me, if you want to write in to me, there’s a couple things I, personally, want you to know and understand.

I’m not as busy as you think. I’m not running around like a headless chook, know that while I may work, I also definitely check my email daily and respond in full as soon as I can.

I don’t respond to emails to be polite to you, to what a reader described as ‘a self proclaimed fangirl’ – I respond because I want to. You must understand, I started this blog not just to share my fantasies and satisfy a part of me, I did it in case it could inspire someone as awkward as I was when I started off.

So I love hearing from people – young, old, male, female, Australian, American, Norwegian – the more the merrier. Language barriers be damned! I love conversing with people and I love talking BDSM and it’s lifestyles.

Whether you’re a fan or seeking answers or even if you a bone to pick with me about something I wrote. Grill me. I welcome all of it, criticism, friendly chatter, the like.

You’re not bothering me. At all. In all my years of blogging, in responding to the kind people that write in, I can honestly say not one email has bugged me, not one. Even if one person has a laundry list of questions, I’ll sit down and work it out with them until they’re more spent then I am. Seriously. So never ever think that YOU are the person that will be too much for me, because that just won’t be the case. Try me, I dare you!

Do you want to write but don’t know what to say? Do you feel stupid because I can talk so openly and you find it rough to? I’ve had years to process how I feel, to work to rise above my own shyness. I was the same as you in the beginning. We all start somewhere and blossom on our own time.

I will say this though – just write. Don’t worry about grammar or context or anything, just write. I honestly care not for long novel-length texts, I read every word and respond. I’ll even write a long novel-length email of my own.

Start at the beginning. Write how you feel. Find a place to start at, to get the ball rolling, and then just let it go – just write and let it loose. If it feels good, write it. If it doesn’t, write it anyway and send it.

Too many times have I read that someone wanted to write in sooner or deleted several iterations of the email they just sent – and it breaks my heart.

I know I can’t TELL people what to do. I know I can’t get people to talk as frankly as I do, but I’m writing this because I want you to know, anything you have to say, in any way, is perfectly A-OK by me and that you should not feel shame or delete what you write, because I mostly certainly want to read it. Don’t even press that delete button or I’ll slap a crop against your knuckles!

Be yourself. That’s all I ask of you. Everything else, please don’t worry. I’m not as scary as your mind makes me out to be!

TD&D

To Those Suffering: You Are Not Alone. You Are Not A Freak.

Browsing my Tumblr, I came across a link in my feed that featured the intriguing concept of a suicide hotline but in text, for those with anxiety when it comes to using the phone and talking.

And I was inspired to write.

When I was a teenager, I was dealing with anxiety before I even fully understood what it meant to have an anxiety disorder.

I would obsess on details, go around in circles on every minute detail, convinced I had missed the point, when in actual fact I was driving myself to madness.

My sexuality is something I’d obsessed about. I had all these feelings I couldn’t understand – I enjoyed being naked, which, coming from a household where being shirtless as a man was something my family would scoff at, meant I’d harboured ill thoughts about myself.

I had a significantly high sex drive, often indulging in the sensualities of pleasure. And on top of all that, I had started to be drawn towards the darker things, the animalistic things, and I had no idea why.

Every time I got the courage to try and talk to someone about it, either a girlfriend or via some age old chatroom, my nerves fell apart.

And who could I talk to? I had friends but then we were of an age where kink was the underlying butt of a joke – Sticks and stones may break my bones but whips and chains excite me.

I self-harmed. I don’t know why. To make sense of it all, to feel something. I still have the scars. I still can hear the sound of my skin popping beneath the blade I used – and I’m ashamed. I cringe now. That was me? That lost, foolish guy?

This wasn’t the right way, it wasn’t who I am, but I didn’t know what way was right.

People of all ages read my blog. I’m grateful for that, I welcome that. I never thought I’d amount to much on a blog, let alone have people write in. Yet they do.

I know teenagers read my blog. I occasionally get an email from some.

I don’t judge their experiences. Or their age. We were like them once and I’ll do all I can if it means I help just one person.

But to adults and teenagers alike, let me say this: You are not alone, you are not a freak. The anxious thoughts you grapple with will pass in time, this I can promise you.

I know it will feel like nothing can ever get better, I know it’ll feel like today your life will never be the same again – but it will.

It might not be today. It might be here tomorrow. But it will fade and you will feel yourself again.

We are not mad for being sensual beings, we are not freaks. We are a select few who choose to explore the other parts of our minds that some are too scared to unlock and explore, our of fear they’ll find something they cannot accept.

If you’re worried about anyone judging you – think on this: Those who mind don’t matter and those who matter don’t mind. If you lose anyone if or when you reveal this other side to you, it’s on them and definitely not on you. Do you understand?

Lastly, I know I’m some guy on the Internet, on a BDSM blog about Valkyries and kink and warped Disney stories – but if ever that anxiety becomes soul crushing, if you’re friends and family seem to bear a weight down upon you, if you find yourself feeling like the world is going to end tonight, please – write to someone. Yourself, closest friend or family member, me.

As a stranger, I’m happy to help you carry the load. You’re not alone. You’re not a freak.

If Life Were A Slasher Film, You’d Be My Victim


Violated.

Sometimes we think we understand words. You know – understand their full meaning in so many different ways. But sometimes an experience comes along that redefines that feeling – that word. And from that point in time onwards, you live your life with the updated knowledge that this is love, that this is heartbreak. That you knew Violation when your husband tried it out on you while the kids were away, while you both still felt human. 

But I promise you, if I catch you in my woods. If I find you’re skinny dipping in my Lake or getting high in the cabins, I will do you the honours of taking the word violated and redefine it when I back you into a corner.

When your mascara runs, when your body trembles and your breasts sway with the panic — when I coil my hands around your thin loose top that classifies as an item of clothing and tear it off, you will come to understand what it means to be violated.

When your body is pinned under mine, and you can smell the sweat I’ve worked up stalking you, watching you and the rest of those friends of yours — when my hand finds the slit of your cunt, roughly divides its folds eagerly with my fingers and your body betrays you with its act of preparing you for the act, you will come to understand what it means to be violated. 

When my other hand finds your nipple, your sweet puffy nipples, and pulls outwardly with all of my might – when you feel as if you can’t take the pain anymore, you will come to understand what it means to be violated.

And at the moment your mind snaps, when the madness washes over you, when your body breaks beneath my coarse caress, you will come to redefine what it means to be violated. 

Because no matter what anyone does to you in the comfort of your bedroom or little fucking play scene you have set out for each other. No matter if he takes you while you swim in the warm inviting lake.

What I can do, in the darkness, with your mind, while you’re alone and staring at your reflection in the full length mirror in the cabin bedrooms will be so much worse.

Behave. 

Dear Teenagers Nervous About BDSM…

When you’re a teenager and you’re navigating your sexuality, it can feel like the scariest thing in the world.

Who can you talk to? How do you learn? Can you talk to adults on the web or will they think you’re silly and turn you away like the others have? Worst case scenario: Will they abuse your trust and attempt to flirt with you?

It wasn’t easy in the age of no internet and it certainly isn’t easy now even with all this information at your fingertips ready to be absorbed.

As a perverted teenager into BDSM, I found my way by falling a lot. And often stood in circles listening to others laugh or frown at the very idea of BDSM and other such kink related things.

If things are overwhelming you, if you feel like you’re trapped and cannot talk to anyone without feeling ashamed or – worse – invalid – then I’ve got a few concepts for you to consider:

You’re Not Alone

Your sexual thoughts, your desires, and your questions do not – I repeat – DO NOT make you – silly, stupid, invalid, wrong, a freak, disgusting – any of those things.

I guarantee you that whatever you’re feeling or thinking or even fantasising about, someone has experienced that before. That’s not to say you aren’t unique – because each of us ARE – rather it means the kink you think is rare or weird isn’t as rare or weird as you think.

I used to feel the same way. I mean, I was a teen with a brother-sister incest fantasy. And you know what? That led me to other people who felt as weird as I did.

The weird thing about the universe is that it leads you to certain people. They’ll be drawn to you and vice versa. Something to consider when the going gets tough.

 

Journal Your Thoughts, Fears and Dreams

What do you fantasise about? What do you want to explore? What keeps you up at night? Write it down.

When it comes to you, your mind and the page, you’d be surprised where your mind goes and what you write down.

I used to keep a journal of all my feelings – and that damned thing survived three relationships and a fuck tonne of moping.

More than this, you might find yourself discovering new things about the way your mind works.

You learn to analyse in a way, and in doing so you find yourself coming back to a moment that can help define whatever it is you are seeking or whatever you are exploring.

So long as you are truthful with yourself, you can go as deep into your psyche as you want to learn about your ticks.

 

The Only Silly Question Is The One Not Asked

I used to hate asking questions. Why? Because I felt like a total idiot. I felt like a bother. And I always felt like the person I was asking didn’t feel like they should have to explain it – and that’s partly on me and my anxieties and partly on the personality of the individual.

IF you come across a person who seems annoyed or aggressive because of you asking questions, chances are they’re not the person you should be asking. So don’t take that as a reflection of you, some people just don’t want that job of answering questions. That’s on them. NOT on you.

My advice to teenagers is this: Find your voice, gather your words, and practice speaking openly. No question is too wild or dumb, because that is how you learn. So one day you might help someone else in need.

I suffered low self esteem. I hated my voice. I mumbled and was quiet. I screwed up words constantly. I had to discipline myself to be okay with asking questions – to speak up. And if a lowly person such as myself can do it, you can do it too!

 

Challenge Your Mind Constantly

Push your boundaries. Be open to new experiences, new sights, new sounds.

Do you struggle with body issues? Try being nude more, just doing small everyday things like cleaning your room, listening to music. Become use to your body. Love who you are. Is there a kink you don’t like? Why? Define your answers, explore your reasoning. Is there an act that makes you uncomfortable? What is it? Why does it affect you so?

Lastly: Do not be afraid of your inner darkness. Some people, when they are confronted with their true selves, run away screaming.

But you can only run so far before you form a circle and end up face to face with your primal side, if such a thing lays dormant within you.

If it does, remember this: You’ve survived it before, you can do it again.

 

Talk To Someone If You Need To

Absolutely this. If there’s a recurring worry, if there’s a nightmare that’s woken you up, if you have a general question, consider talking to your closest friend. Consider writing to a blog writer or forum. There are many avenues you can choose to find help, it is never too late and there is never a limit to how many questions you can ask. If things are overwhelming, never ever hesitate – I cannot stress this enough.

On top of that, you can always feel free to email me if you have something to say, need advice, have a question, just need to write after a bad dream – anything.

My contact is in the ABOUT ME section of the blog.

It may feel like things are overwhelming, like there is too much information out there.

If you’re a teenager and you feel cornered and alone and just need advice, you’re not alone. I’m here to talk to, night or day. If you write in, no matter how jumbled you may feel your words will be, I’ll write back. I promise.

And if you ever feel you can’t possibly learn all these new things, remember – baby steps. One day at a time. In time, you’ll learn all you want to know.

If I can do it, you can.

 

 

 

 

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.  

Playing With Fire: A Daddy Dom Ramble


I’ve had a few drafts of what I want to say. I can’t figure out how to be precise with my words here. So expect some free form stream of consciousness.
I watched this show where a teenage girl was hovering her hand over an open flame, admittedly been through a lot, not to mention being a teenager in the first place. And my mind jumped to so many different tangents with the image. Experimenting with pain, sexual

Identity. Guidance. 
It kicked off this whole train of thought that is current doing the round. Which led me to writing it down here. 
I’m a Daddy. This much is true, whether it’s sexual or instinctive. Or darker. 

And I’m of two minds – one half trying to comfort this teenage girl while the other half helping her to experiment. Because experimentation, under watch, can be rewarding. So maybe my hand on hers, feeling the slight burn. No going back. Showing her that there is this whole side of things that you can practice as a form of therapy, if controlled in a healthy environment. 
And I’m not too sure why. 

I often wrestle with my animalistic impulses. I’ll shy away from the absurd because a handful of people understand and the rest don’t. 
I think the reason why this show has sparked feeling with me is partly because I was that experimental teen, dealing with pain – unhealthily at first. So when I see a teenager, male or female, struggling, I become that surrogate Daddy. Whether they like it or not. Because I can’t help it. And because my heart is too deep, or so they tell me. 
When I was first fully exploring my Dominant side, I met a teenage girl through Whisper going through a really rough time. I was 26 at the time. And she was flirtatious and sent nudes randomly. And I understood why. Or partly understood. 

I didn’t act. I didn’t want to. She was certainly attractive. Legal, if you’re mind is going there. But I could feel she was trying to justify something, her worth, herself, anything. And so I talked to her, told her politely as I could that the nude photo wasn’t necessary. 
And I don’t know why or how I came to it, but I saw her as a little sister. And whenever she texted me to vent, I would listen. Whenever she called, I would listen. 
And eventually, she stopped calling. We stopped talking, I didn’t bother her. I get it into my head I’m annoying – and a part of me felt guilty about the fact that I was even talking to her, because age. 
And age is weird. When my kitten was 16-17, I was 21. And I wouldn’t dream of dating her then….but now, it’s okay. Our minds are weird. Human, I guess. 
So when I see a teen or hear of a teen struggling, I see myself. I’m instantly transported to my days of discovery. And I guess that sparks on a transformation into a Daddy.
And I’m writing this all out because I feel like it needs to be said. I feel like there’s this sort of creep factor or age barrier that comes with the Daddy Dominant that misconstrues meaning. And I feel, a lot of the time, there’s a younger audience to my blog that needs to talk about something to a random who doesn’t know their friends or family. Who needs to hear they’re okay to experiment. 
Just like sometimes I need someone to tell me: it’s okay to feel like this. It’s an instinctual thing. You’re not a fucking creep. Even though, through writing this, I kinda feel like I am, you know?
So: the image of this girl testing the flame. It made me think of myself, it made me want to guide her, tell her things are okay. It made me want to walk the path with he while she opens the doors to discovery and sexual identity. 
This may be an 18+ blog, with mature themes, but I’d never turn anyone under 18 away. Because that person was once me. 

A Note For Any Teenagers Passing By This Blog

I’ve addressed the newcomers stopping by my blog but now I want to address a specific crowd: any of the teenagers stopping by, of which I’ve responded to a few. Maybe there’s more in the shadows, I know not.

Being a teenager and into BDSM is all sorts of crazy hot excitement and scariness.
I remember opening the door to all these feelings and being absolutely flooded with ideas – some that I struggled with because I thought that no possible person could feel like this, that it was absolutely vulgar.

For any teenagers passing by, I have this to say to you: Guess what? You are definitely not alone.
Maybe you have stumbled across my blog, maybe you wanted to write in but felt like you were a freak. I’m here to tell you that this isn’t the case. Not at all.

For everything you may think is freakish, think about this: someone, somewhere thought of it first most likely. Yup. It’s true.

I remember saying the words “You fucking whore” or “You little slut” and having the other side of me go “Whoa man, what the hell?” but it felt so fucking good to let out this dark impulse within me that connected with someone else’s dark impulse.

More than this, I can make a wager with you that there is a whole following of the kink you’re into but afraid of hidden away in delicious local pockets of society around you. That’s just how it works.

I remember feeling so different with my kinks that it brought me to tears. I felt that inescapable gloom creep up over me in my isolation.
I don’t want you to feel that, the Daddy Dom in me definitely doesn’t want you to feel that, so please, if you are feeling alone, or worse suicidal, write in to me. Because you don’t have to feel isolated or fucked up or alone.

You’ve wandered into something intensely beautiful, erotic and personal.
And for any teenagers out there, I surely hope you can come to realise that.