amwriting

Here is a note from Leigh:

Dear Peekers™,

Please excuse Scot from blogging this week. He is trying to write naughty fiction for not just the first time ever, but also under a deadline. As much as he loves Peeker™ Nation he simply cannot have two Masters at one time.

In the interim, please feel free to reread or discover any of the contents of The Archives.

He will return to blogging on Monday, September 17th.

– Leigh

Interview With A Submission Vampire Vol.1 No.16

As far as Selfish Sundays™ go, this one is downright evil.

Leigh and I got away for an evening. Not a vacation per se, just a chance to escape a lil’ further than a few hours. Now, before you ask “So Scot, is there going to being a sequel to Away Games?” I will, with a very large grin, let you know.

No.

Disappointed? I hope not. As much fun as we have playing with each other, its not us to be like that all the time. Every evening is not one filled with candlelight and cuffs (note to self – that would make a great story title). I’ve said this before and will repeat that its not German opera 24/7.

We got away. Shared some quality time, laughs, each other’s company. Had a lovely meal. And woke this morning in a bed we had never slept on before.

And that’s that. No kinky activities or stories of violating societal norms or local decency ordinances. Matter of fact, we did something that was extremely naughty.

Slept.

That’s right. Not even someplace else sex, let alone some D/s or BDSM. Chocolate with sprinkes sex? Caramel? We didn’t even have a single scoop of vanilla sex. And it was nice.

Surprised? You shouldn’t be. Or I least I hope you aren’t. Which segues perfectly into this week’s question.

Long time Peeker™ Jayne Ayres wanted to know this:

“How would you react if Leigh truly did not want to be submissive in the bedroom anymore? Pretend that it was real and true to her and she said it had to end because she didn’t like how it felt anymore. What would your reaction be?”

Great question Jayne, and one I have made allusions to answering before in musings like Building Pyramids Upside Down.

What would happen is that I would be married to my best friend. We would laugh, share, talk, have amazing sex, get away on Sundays, spend time in the kitchen, worry about bills, go antiquing, watch our favorite television show. She would give me hand jobs that would sell for hundreds of dollars, blow jobs that would cost more. I’d fuck her within inches of her life, make her squirt like a broken fire hydrant and still try to get to play with her belly button. A man can dream…

We’d still be kinky ass mother fuckers in all sorts of ways, plus have so much else to share.

D/s is not a deal breaker. We explore it because we both enjoy it. But it would not be the elephant in the room with its absence.

Would I miss it? Fuck yeah! Would I feel any resentment towards Leigh? No. I make no secret that I enjoy it, but I do not need it. It does not define me or us. We define it. It is not who we are, it’s what we make it.

I hope my answer surprises and disappoints Peekers™. Some may smile, others frown. That’s great. As I always say TETO – To Each Their Own.

This is why I’m so glad our pyramid isn’t upside down. I’d lament its absence, but it would such a minor impact on who we really are that it would be missed about as much as the hole left in a buckle of water after you removed your hand from its depths.

I love her for her, not for her submission.

– Scot

The Dom Next Door Unchained – Anabelle

Welcome to the third installment of what is hopefully now on its way to becoming a more regular feature of TDND™ – Unchained. Not more than a week or so removed from just the second, I get to introduce the third. And what a story it is.

Unchained is what many refer to as guest blogging, but with a twist. Rather than inviting a blogging peer to write something on or about a particular subject, Unchained has a theme:

Discourses, thoughts and reactions on any of the various offerings found on The Dom Next Door™ and how they were affected by them.

It might be in regards to a story, or perhaps a random BDSM musing. Maybe some poetry struck a chord. Or simply the blog in general.

So link by link, the Peekers™ forge their chain of tales. Stories that are at the core of what this blog is really about – the demystification of the stereotypical D/s persona and dynamic, as well as helping Peekers™ find their inner Dom or sub.

This one started with a simple, polite message thanking me for saving something. I don’t want to get ahead of myself and spoil her story so I’ll stop at that. It is a tale months in the making, both literally and figuratively. But, as you will read, it was well worth the wait, effort and strength it took to write.

Not ashamed to say my eyes moistened the first time I read it. Humbled is a word I use frequently. Many comments and reactions make me feel that way. But this was different. As in swallowing (stop it…perverts) hard as I read it. Whatever the next level of being humbled is, this did it.

It is my humbled (see?) honor to Unchain Anabelle:

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You have no idea how many times I’ve tried to write this thing. I promised it to Scot months ago, and yet I couldn’t really get to it until now. I suppose that admitting my inability to express how I feel about this topic may mean that it’s bigger than words, but still deserves to be explored.

But let’s start from the beginning: there was a boy and a girl, and they’ve been together now for almost 6 years. There was a decision, 2 years ago, and the girl left the boy behind, without breaking up, thinking that they were strong enough, that they could deal with the distance, that they would be okay living in different provinces.

But then, after 6 months, they realized they weren’t okay.

So the girl makes another decision, decides that she should come back, because her relationship is more important than a degree. She spent some time in the dog house, in another city still, but closer. So finally, after a year and a half of separation, she comes back to him, hopefully to start a good life together, to start over, but for real this time. No more leaving.

But then, even after she’s come back, something seems to be missing. The spark in bed is not always there. The sex is infrequent, good but not often enough. There’s a part of her, the kinky part that she’s known about since she was 14, that isn’t fulfilled.

And then, one day, she finds The Dom Next Door. It was on Twitter, through some other writers she follows. And then she starts reading. She reads it at work, spends most of the day reading and not working. And the next day, she is still reading and not working. She knows this is what she wants, this is what she needs. Not Scot and Leigh’s relationship, exactly, but a kinky relationship of her own. Committed, real, meaningful. And she wants it with him, of course, because he is the love of her life and she could not imagine herself without him, ever.

I’m not sure I’m getting my thoughts through here. What I mean to say is: TDND saved my sex life.

After two weeks of reading, lurking and thinking, I wrote my love a long email telling him how I felt. I told him how much this meant to me, how much I needed to share this with him. I told him that it’s how I connect to him, that it’s how I express my love, that it’s how I want to live my sexuality with him.

Scot always emphasizes the importance of communication. Without this email, I would have remained frustrated and unsatisfied. And without TDND, I wouldn’t have realized that I needed to tell him, so very, very badly.

My honesty opened up our relationship. We purchased a dining table so we could talk. Have you ever lived with your significant other without a dining table? There’s nowhere to sit down and talk, face to face. What did we do? Couch, TV. Yeah, not much conversation there, I know. We are closer, not only sexually, but emotionally as well. I am hopeful for our future together, and I am enjoying the present deeper than I ever have before.

So no, there’s no kinky story here, no opening the door to my bedroom. Our kinks are our own, and I want to keep it that way. I admire Scot and Leigh’s courage to share this with us; I’m sure it has helped countless people, not just me. But I did want to share how their story changed mine. Thanks to them, I have a model to look up to, a couple to emulate. We are not the same people, of course, but I want us to be together like they are. Because beyond the kink, beyond the sex and the bedroom door, there is their connection, there is the way they communicate so fully and honestly with each other. Because, it seems to me, they are happy.

And isn’t happiness the meaning of life?

– Anabelle

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Words escape me, Anabelle. Thank you beyond my means to do so for sharing this with me as well as the Peekers™.

– Scot

WII Is WII

No, this has nothing to do with a popular gaming console. I’d mention the manufacturer, but then the Search Engine Term results would undoubtedly reflect that false advertising. Hate to get a guy’s panties in a bind that there might be a BDSM video game.

No, WII is the first part of WIITWD, aka What It Is That We Do. It’s an acronym commonly used by those who participate in BDSM and/or D/s (are two / in a row allowed?).

As part of my self-education into WIITWD I read a lot. Granted, there is no substitute for first hand (heh) experience, but reading other’s thoughts help. I have a lot to learn, and I make no secret of this. If the journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step, I can still see the starting line from where Leigh and I stand now.

But its good. Fucking great, actually. As with so many other married couples we discovered that, in order to do WIITWD, the communication and trust required flowed over into other aspects of our lives. Both of us have found recesses of our psyches that, prior to D/s, we either did not know we had or, more likely, cared to admit were. Leigh grapples with love of good pain and the desire to be forced. I wrestle with Hyde and how sadistic a fuck he is. Sometimes he and Leigh’s inner Cock Slut play with each other. Things get…interesting.

So I read. Study. Learn. Try to grasp new philosophies, explore different avenues, acquire new techniques and skills. Learn what not to do instead of what to. Which leads me to the focus of this musing.

In my quest to learn I have noticed an overwhelming need on the part of Dominants to quantify everything. So many times while perusing blogs or web pages the phrase “What is..” comes up. Over and over to ad nauseum. Be it a defining statement or a leading question, it seems one cannot escape these two words while exploring the topic. Submissives are guilty of this as well, but not to the degree Dominants are.

Truth be told I learn a lot more about how to be a better Dominant from (pardon my adjective) lowly submissives than most if not all the Dominants put together. Submissives share their feelings, thoughts, kid’s illnesses, desires, experiences, recipes, YouTube playlist, poetry, pictures of their cat, toys they long for, toys they fear, reactions to what Sir or Madam has said, pout, emote.

Dominants, for the most part, read like an instruction manual or Intro To Sexual Psychology 101 course text. There are exceptions, for which I am glad. Without the Dominants who own cats and like YouTube I’d be frustrated beyond words. But even a great deal of their discussion about WIITWD has no life. It’s as dry as yesterday’s toast. Many times its merely pre-existing literature (I use that term very loosely) that has been reformatted from elsewhere. Sad to think the quote “Look, it’s a submissive and her Wiki” is not unreasonable. They trust their bodies, minds, hearts and souls to someone who thinks Google and not for themselves…

Am I frustrated? Not really. I’ve realized how good I have it with Leigh and that, even though I’m very wet behind the flogger in terms of experience, I’m alright as a Dom. I can definitely get better and damn well know I could be a lot worse.

The one thing that does rub me the wrong way (ironic coming from a Dom, huh?) is the apparent desire to define everything. I suppose it stems from the need within a dynamic to explain and set parameters, but still it feels all too syllabus like. No, I am not going to say there are (gag) gray areas. Even I have my standards.

Even with the acknowledgement that this phenomenon most likely is an outgrowth of expectations, there is a concrete quality to them. Cement is cold, impersonal and dull. Its even gray (heh).

So what do I think Dominance is? What makes a good submissive? What is submission?

That sentence right there will result in some Search Engine Terms finding us. Guaranteed. So when they do stumble across this page I want them to read this:

WIITWD stands for What It Is That We Do. It’s a term often used in reference to those who practice BDSM and D/s.

The We is you.

The kink community uses it. But that second W is referring to the set of eyes reading this, and the second set if my humble thoughts are being honored by a Dominant and their submissive at this moment.

It’s what you define as BDSM or D/s. That is what WIITWD means. Be it decades of experience in the lifestyle or planning to try it for the first time, you define kink. Your views on Domination are the ones that matter. How much submission you choose to explore creates the correct definition. Please, for the love of all things leather, do not feel that because what you read sounds like a graduate level Philosophy text makes it right. No, you make it right.

You’ll also make it wrong. It’s OK.

Experience is the cruelest teacher in that it gives the test first, lesson second. You’ll learn more from that than you will any other. That’s not to say just go explore shibari and flogging without some due diligence. Use a little common sense.

A number of you reading this will laugh and think I’m a fool. Fine with me. I’ll see you later, further down the road of this journey, still holding Leigh’s cuffed hand. TETO – To Each Their Own.

I own my kink because it’s mine, which makes it right.

– Scot

I Had No Idea

You love me!  You really love me! (with apologies to Sally Field)

To say I am a wee bit overwhelmed by the response to Act IV of The Butterfly Chains is a gross understatement. It’s not that this particular Act (meaning part of a story, not action) has received more Comments that others. Many stories and musings have far more. No, it’s what everyone seems to be reacting to.

My orgasm, specifically my account of it.

Really?

Between here and Twitter the theme appears to be that this is not your everyday low hanging fruit (stop it, not funny…actually it is) but rather something exotic, seldom found and when so rarely with apparent eloquence.

It was extremely difficult for me to write that last sentence. I loathe air of pretentiousness, so to pat myself on the….back, yeah, my back…is not me at all. But I am a realist, and there is no denying that this pushed buttons. Very naughty buttons.

Buttons are often how people turn things on. Like washing machines. Yeah, washing machines. Yeah…

What was I saying?

Anyway, your lack of breath, use of cold water and sudden nicotine cravings did not go unnoticed. If Peeker™ Nation finds this of interest, then so it will be.

Starting this week a new recurring story series will begin. Entitled Inside Out (clever, huh?) it will be an off and on (heh) series focused on one thing and one thing only: my experience with that particular orgasm.

Be it one of Leigh’s eye rolling hand jobs, an oral induced explosion, or just good ol’ fashioned fucking in any multitude of positions and/or orifices, Inside Out will give you what apparently is difficult to find elsewhere – what it’s really like for a guy to orgasm.

What I won’t do for my Peekers™…

– Scot

A Coffee, Cricket And A Dom Walk Into A Monday

And without a hint of warning the rabbi yelled “SECULAR?” I BARELY KNOW HER!!!”

No, no Irish whiskey in this morning’s java. Although that sounds like a lovely idea.

It’s Labor Day in the States. So if you are wondering why this week’s edition of my Monday ramblings while under the mug is late to your eDoorstep now you know. Don’t look all pouty. And that better not be a foot tapping in harumph.

It’s not often I get to have a lazy morning with my doll that does not begin with the letter S. And I know you are all smirking and elbowing each other with visions of sugar Doms (I am a sweetie) dancing in your heads about what transpired between our aforementioned late morning sheets.

It was luscious. Surreal. Intoxicating in its elusivity. We shared something we rarely get a chance to indulge in, so much so that’s it’s practically taboo, even for us.

We slept in.

I’ll pause for a moment to allow the collective breath leaving all of your lungs simultaneous the time it needs.

Disappointed? I hope not. And admit it – you get turned on by turning the clock radio’s alarm off. It’s digital foreplay for your circadian rhythm.

The only sound we have been able to hear for the past few hours are the chirps of a solitary, lonely cricket. I don’t know if crickets have Twitter. If so this one was flooding timelines with rechirps.

It’s taking me fucking forever to write this morning. And I love it. I even took a break to enjoy a lovely toasted bagel with a more than generous shmere of Neuchâtel cream cheese, prepared by the lovely Leigh.

Just hours ago it was her sitting in the corner rocking chair, the first rays of the day warning her legs while the coffee and eggs I made her warmed other aspects, most notably her personality. She loves when I make her coffee, as well as scrambled eggs. I love that she walked (actually more staggered) up behind me prior to this and, out of the blue, scratched my back for five minutes.

If you though you heard a loud purring sound earlier, that was me. Ladies a secret from TDND™ – your fingers on your man’s back + same fingers making delicious things in the kitchen = it will come back to you in ways you love. Try it.

And now, in a downright Mufasa to Simba Circle Of Life moment, its I who feels the sun on my legs in the same chair, my second cup of coffee almost empty, the French omelet I made for myself long digested. And the warmth of the bagel is only second to the same coming from inside in that she made it for me. As I made breakfast for her and, from what I can tell, had the same effect on her aura.

It really isn’t German Opera 24/7 at The Dom Next Door™ World Headquarters. Honest. Leigh and I are likely no different from the vast majority of all of you. Nothing special to see here, move along. We probably have so much in common with everyone it would shock you all at how alike we are with the eyes reading these words right now. Something to keep in mind as you continue to press those same eyes up against the keyhole to our bedroom and peek into our lives behind its closed door.

That you are, in reality, voyeuristically watching yourself.

For many it’s not a stretch of the imagination. You are all far more kinky and perverted than us, which is awesome. But for a number of you its akin to looking into a wishing well. Just remember the reflection peering back from its wistful depths is yours, not ours. It is within you to become that which you desire. Yes, many wrestle with doubt, others sadly fight what must feel like a losing war with a significant other. But regardless of your situation, it really could be you on the other side of that keyhole. Perhaps that is why we seem to strike a chord with so many.

I know it’s why we are having torrid affairs with each other’s spouses. Please don’t tell my wife. Although if she knew that it was one of the reasons why I happily make her coffee and eggs she may actually be okay with it. May even get a luxurious back scratch as well.

As for all of you, you will get updated Acts for The Looking GlassChain Of RulesSeek And Go Hyde and The Butterfly Chains. I really need to accept some blogging awards (its rude to ignore them), Leigh needs to be seduced via a poem and more than likely scratch a need to muse on some aspects of D/s and BDSM that have been simmering for a while.

And with that, I need more coffee. What is left of this lazy day awaits.

– Scot