Hello dear followers,
If you’re looking for me, I’m still writing — just somewhere new.
Everything continues at https://talldarkanddominant.wordpress.com. New essays, new erotica, new conversations. The dynamic is the same. The door is open.
Come find me there. I’d love to see you.
— TD&D
My dear followers,
Forgive me for the silence here. Between working on drafting one novel and editing the other — and work in general — I’ve had very little emotional bandwidth to write as I normally would.
But the past two months I’ve been working on something.
On February 27, 2015, I was a bumbling 27-year-old man who began a journey into his sexuality. Having struggled with shame, insecurity, and self-image, I started a blog with the intention of challenging my shyness and anxiety, exploring my dominance and concepts of D/s and BDSM openly, and lastly, sharing my love of writing with whoever stumbled across my site. If one person felt less overwhelmed, less fearful because of my ponderings, it was all worthwhile.
Ten years have passed.
I am 38.
Nothing fucks you harder than time, mm?
I sometimes cringe at my old words — my old, shall we say, naïveté? I like that word. Fun to say, fun to write out. Ahem. Yes, it’s all a part of life, growth and growing pains.
I’m a different person now.
My writing style has changed, matured. My understanding of it all — of kink, submission, dominance, my approach to it, how I lead — all of it has changed.
This blog has served its purpose, but it’s time to start a new chapter. Fresh. Just as wild, ever-searching. Always reaching for understanding, and hoping my words reach someone starting new.
Whether you’ve walked with me through the years, or if you’ve just arrived, I’d like to invite you to my new space.
It’s not ready yet. I’m still building it, refining it, shaping it into a home that feels true to where I am now as a Dominant and a writer.
There will be new stories, new adventures and advice and reflections. It’ll be launching Feb 27, 2026. Save the date.
If you’d like to be notified when I move, just stay subscribed. I won’t be closing this blog until launch.
But — to all the people who connected with me personally, to all the people who didn’t, to all the couples who shared stories amongst themselves and were kind enough to pass that info on, to all the people who braved their own anxieties to write to me —
Thank you. For the most precious thing you could’ve given me: your time.
I do hope you join me in my new setting. If not, I thank you still for your time.
Who knows what kind of mischief I’ll get up to?
Tall, Dark and Dominant
‘I hope I’m not disturbing you.’
Those were the opening words of an email I received today.
I write these posts every now and then because I get these messages and it devmy heart to know someone out there in this scary world has been struggling to write to me but is nervous.
I know I’m a stranger on the internet. You don’t know me from the person you walked past coming home from the shopping — it’s intimidating as hell – more so due to these topics being very raw and very personal. Sexual.
But!
Read me true, curious or struggling reader, and know this: IF you want to write to me . . . for any reason — be it:
Maybe to say hello. Maybe you’re curious about BDSM and Dominance and submission. Maybe you want to talk about a certain post. To dive deep on other kinky subjects. To talk writing – mine or yours. Maybe you want to ask after a Dominant’s perspective. Or hell, maybe you just need to vent.
You. Are. ALWAYS. WELCOME.
Write to me unedited. You are not a disturbance. You are not bothersome. It’s not too late at night, you are not distracting me from my life, you’re not silly for your anxieties or your inexperience. It’s easier said than done to accept these worries and send the message, boy do I know — but just try. I would love to hear from you.
And I will be here when you are ready.
There are also options to contacting me, that might suit your needs!
You can write to me at my email: darkanddominant@hotmail.com (mind the D’s!)
You can find me on Instagram here, Tumblr here OR X / Twitter here!
And if you want to write to me but find yourself deleting and rewriting and deleting and rewriting — only to delete AGAIN — simply email or message me with a 🍀 and I’ll reach for you! But just between us: I love a good novel!
More than this, more than me, You have all the power you need within you. You are sacred, so much stronger than you think and you are capable and your fantasies are valid. Be Dominant. Be submissive. And be kind to your mind and your body in your journey.
TRIGGER WARNING: THE FOLLOWING CONTAINS ELEMENTS OF BREATH PLAY, CNC AND BREEDING WITHIN A CONSENSUAL DYNAMIC.
There is no poetry
No sweetness
With a fistful of hair
He holds her under
she thrashes
and splashes
and her gurgles bubble
to the surface
Splashing her slick wet ass
As she wrestles against him
It only drives her back
Cock splitting her slit apart
And burying within her further.
The thing is
He wants her to fight
As much he wants her body limp
To feel her fight leave her thighs
And her whimpering to end
He doesn’t know why
Her bubbling cries make him hard
He pushes in
Hoping the stones on the waterbed
Cut her cheeks
As he rips out of her trembling lips
only to slam right back in
And her pussy takes hold of Him
as if a part of her begs Him to stay.
Need and want stretches out as He stretches her
and folds around time and space
Until she flails once more
and grows still.
Only then does he wrench her
From her watery grave
And coats her sputtering lips and rosy cheeks in his
Creamy
Thickened
Load.
The rest pumps into her stretched, fuzzy lips.
The best thing
that will ever happen to her
——
Happy New Year to the followers and readers passing by that find my blog. I wish you all a year of love, belly laughs and magical, beautiful memories to last a lifetime.
I’m starting this year with something dark and primal: a mood in my mind, running as a current ‘neath the bounds of my fantasies and stories and mood.
I hope you enjoy it. I hope it lingers. If it does, let me know. Say hi. I like when you say hi.
What is it about the wind that pulls me into a primal mindset? Maybe it’s witnessing this force of nature: My brain lights up. My body reacts and responds. I become unhinged.
We’ve been here before haven’t we, dear reader? Seeking, searching, contemplating the depths of my Dominance. I’m sure I’ve written of this before but every time a storm comes and my body sizzles with goosebumps and I feel the need to undress and fuck I feel like I’m revising my thoughts. Perfecting them. And here we are with the wind.
For it is the wind that skims across my arms and darts between my thighs, pulling me into an image that unravels between worlds. In the space between spaces I lose myself (or is that find myself?) to a submissive in the middle of the woods. Naked, writhing and wild before me. Her ass and thighs glisten with her own arousal.
The wind seizes her nonsensical whimpers and scatters them through the air, hurdling the volume of each letter that slips from her wet, trembling lips across the vast forest. And we hear the echoes: nonsensical half-sentences.
Metaphors slip out of sight and mind. A kaleidoscope of thoughts: The wind is jazz. The snare starts the swing that melts their fuse down to total unraveling. We find the beat. How I ease into her soaked self from behind, filling her writhing self whole, only to drive her mad by tearing myself out of her. Again and again. Taking her from behind. Chasing her – our – pleasure. Feeding off of her every dry.
‘The Wild still lingered in him and the wolf in him merely slept.’ So wrote Jack London in White Fang, a novel I received when I was 10 by my Nan. A novel that would spark my love for adventure – the concept and the genre in fiction – but also nature. Being within the rainforest, being naked where no one can see me. No one but my prey, that is.
Maybe the whisper of wind across my bare thighs that wakes that wolf or wild spirit slumbering within me. The one rouses in rain, amidst storms or behind the cover of Grandfather trees.
So as the rain needles the roof and the wind clatters against the windows, I feel the sudden urge to strip and fuck and let all semblance of humanity go. I drool, I bite, I howl and l tease her till she’s a trembling needy, overstimulated little mess.
And as the sky darkens, I find myself there. Breathing irregular, on my side, my cock pumping a load onto her bare ass as I pin her down under me.
The dark takes hold.
Wind grazes my thighs and the dirt feels warm between my toes and I am hard as I stand by the riverbank.
I know the water is warm because I created the river. I created the trees too and the sound of their voices as they whisper.
My heart races to understand what I can never understand. That is something I cannot create. I can merely attempt to control. And control changes day by day.
I’d like you here. Naked. As you are.
I would love to feel your hand in mine. Synchronized stepping into the river and feeling the water rush around us.
Envelope us.
Are you as aroused as I am?
Would an orgasm curb my racing heart, the perfect storm, the war drum of anxiety and depression?
Will you do something for me? Would you make yourself come for me? Would you stare into my eyes as you do? So I can see the gift that no one else sees?
I’d like to play alongside you.
And then…once all is said and done and we are flustered feeling feral little things…will you lay on your back alongside me.
Will you trust the water to shape you
And guide you
And make you
For me
And for the journey forward.
I think I’d like that
I think I’d like to see those water beaded tits of yours.
I think you center me.
Understand me.
Calm me.
Or maybe I am the river and there’s either no stopping it or I should just learn to control my war drums.
Either way. Will you join me as I set sail with the river?
Will you curl up to me and wrap your hand round my waist?
Will you fall asleep with me
together in the river?
What does aftercare look like for a Dominant?
That was the question I’ve been asked recently and I admit, I had to ponder the response: As a Dominant I am so used to providing the aftercare that I can often forget about my own. Don’t get me wrong — Aftercare does happen for me, it is provided to me, I just am so concentrated on Domming in the moment that I don’t think of it for myself.
But living – and dominating – with an anxiety disorder, the need for aftercare does come. Particularly after a CNC scene or even when I immerse myself in a primal session where thoughts and feelings come savagely and freely. It’s almost like my ye old Catholic upbringing kicks in and I flinch back into Catholic guilt and it’s that guilt that undoes my progress towards healing.
So what helps combat it? Well, a few things can ease my Dominant mind. Naked cuddling is a big one — picture, if you will, Me nestled against my submissive, cock against their ass with my hands wrapped around their waist and tracing the shape of their breasts.
Other times it can go the other way — I get sensory overload and I just need a minute alone. To collect my thoughts but also just to breathe a little until that odd bit of sensitivity passes.
I’ve also been known to fall asleep by my partner when I’m needing aftercare. Whether she’s catching up on Drag Race or playing video games, I think her presence alone can soothe me – so I tell her not to adjust the volume and I’ll nap. And I do! Maybe it’s a noise thing. Sitting with the background noise that helps quiet my busy mind!
And sometimes it goes the other way: I need to be reassured. No matter how many times I’ve heard it, I’ll need to hear it again because that’s my brain. It’s like a plant that needs watering. I just need to soak it in. Otherwise I’ll talk you to your grave with my constant mind wanderings. I’ll spiral.
Then there are times where I enjoy a moment where my submissive sits either beside me on the couch or by my feet, naked and collared and with a leash in my hand. Maybe we’re watching something light. Animated shows or Disney or some 80s Dark Fantasy. But I like the leash in my hand. I like her here with me. I like her naked. These things are calming and relaxing and bring me back down to our realm beyond the trees.
When I need to be alone, I need to be naked in the forest, listening to the rain on my phone or rattling my window. Nature soothes and recharges me. Helps me reflect, helps quiet my mind. I can process my savagery / desire for roughness and such in that silence. I can balance that chemical imbalance.
At the end of the day, you could say it comes down to nakedness, nature, reassurance that my self is okay, movies and meditation.
That is my aftercare.
The need.
The all-consuming, stomach clenching, need comes upon him.
He doesn’t always feel it, it doesn’t always come knocking, but with her he does.
Out in their forested space, amidst the tangles of vines and sun-kissed leaves, the urge to command her down to her knees is so sweet it’s already taking shape on his tongue as he thinks it.
With that curious glint in her eye, ever-shyness and submissive and eager and oh so fucking sweet, gods help him, she lowers herself down to her knees in movement that feels slow and dream-like.
He waits with a breath caught in his throat. He wants to bite that lovely, pulsing throat of hers as he guides himself to her bare cunt.
But that will come.
Relief hounds him. His senses are firing. All he can think of is this moment.
‘Yes, Sir?’
Her sweet voice fills the air. Begins to weave a spell upon his mind — but he wrestles free of her and her gaze. No.
He grips his cock — it’s so fucking achingly hard that he can’t help the moan that spills loose from his wet lips. The forked branches of the trees around them catch his sighs and throw it back at him. He feels the rumble in his chest. A growl.
And it comes.
The relief is orgasmic.
Incredible.
Feral.
Ecstasy.
His stream hits her so suddenly she flinches in surprise but the shock that skirts in her eyes transforms to delight, to a shy grin.
Through the daze he watches her scoop up her gorgeous tits — a ‘handful’ she calls them — with one arm as she rolls her tortured nipple between finger and thumb.
Her body writhes. Stomach lifts from where she’s rooted to the ground. Like a tree he’s relieving himself against, comes a thought.
Her thighs clench and her fingers pinch and pull and stretch her nipple and she lets out a coo so strangled it sounds animalistic.
His feral fucking animal.
This is their first time doing this. It was on the cards they have decided and the cards they have spoken.
‘You’re mine.’ He finds himself saying. Are the words his or is he possessed by the forest? By the relief tugging at this stomach as he urinates on his plaything.
Is it warm? Is it welcoming? Is it cleansing?
She lets her tits fall and he watches as her hands wander between her legs. He allows them passage. Watches as she spreads her lips and draws a finger along her clit. He hopes she aches for the relief as much as he did.
And then it dies and he is done and he drops to his knees to meet her lovely eyes in their shaded realm.
‘Did you like it?’
The laughter – joyous, orgasmic, light – comes bursting out of her. As if delayed from the moment she first felt him on her and her mind only now catches up.
‘Mmhmm.’
She’s still grinding into her hand. A needy kitten.
‘Get on all fours. Now, pet. I want to fuck you like the feral little fuck you are right now.’
‘Yes, Surrr.’ She giggles and slurs, ever the sassbrat. But she follows the command any way, tits soaked in him, beads of urine rolling past her navel.
His own feral fucking forest Princess.
Show me how you play with yourself.
As a dominant, there’s a long, long list of commands that feel so wondrous to utter but this string of words might be the most intoxicating, for the scrumptious meaning that trails behind the syllables.
Beyond scenes, beyond dynamics, beyond choosing her outfit for the musical we’re off to — Show me. How YOU PLAY. With Yourself.
A lot is wrapped up in that moment. I’ve given the order but I’ve been deemed worthy to be given a glimpse into a private space.
Into all of her.
And it’s intimate but it’s voyeuristic. There’s eye contact and in through that eye contact there is the realisation that: No, I’m not going to play with you. You’re not going to use MY cock to get off, you’re going to play with yourself FOR MY ENJOYMENT. And, hey — yours.
I think it’s more than just liking to watch, more than just a sexy moment shared between two minds, I’ve tugged on a thread and I’m pulling and I’m watching her unravel in real time. Frantic whispers and strained curses and how she adores pinching and pulling her nipples. Will she use a toy? Will she use her fingers? Is she going to circle her clit while she pumps herself with her fingers or is she going to ride a toy on her knees — all this I think of before there was a me or a Dom or a submissive, when it was her and her self and her mind.
That not only pulls my hand to my cock it pulls on my heart strings because I feel this deep within me. Who is worshiping who? Maybe both, maybe that’s the post-flu tiredness talking, who can say. But I just know —
It’s sweet, it’s sexy, the moment is magic. I can’t get enough of her.
Right here.
In the darkness.
In the middle of the night.
I want to fuck you.
Taste you.
Feel the buzz of your whimper along my ear.
There’s something so fucking sexy to me – hearing your pants, hearing how your soaked cunt eagerly takes me in – but not being able to see you.
Intrigue taking form in darkness.
Our minds colouring in.
As you sleepily part your legs at my touch.
Even coming awake you’re such a well behaved and obedient girl.
Even in sleep you know it. You’re mine.
My toy.
And! You’ve been such a good girl that, yeah, you can ride me ontop. I think I’ll allow it.
But, fuck do I want to fill you.
Feel your gorgeous thighs around my waist.
Feel the faintest brush of your tits against my chest as you reach down for a kiss.
That quiver in your moan drives me wild so much that I do believe I’d growl around your lips. Into the kiss.
Feel me tug at a fistful of your hair, non verbal ownership.
I hope you shiver at the thought of my fingertips trailing down your back to your ass.
As I mark you.
Claim you.
There in the darkness.
Till we kick off the covers to escape our inescapable body heat.
Sweat trickling down our intertwined legs.
Where I will pump my full load into you.
And order you back to sleep with the feeling of it there dribbling down around your ass.
Tall, Dark and Dominant 