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Chaos reigns and panic numbs
When SmthnWkd this way comes
Deviant. Pervert. Sadist.
I like bourbon and cigars. I like steaks on the grill. I like road head and quick dirty fucks in an alley with your panties wrapped around your wrists. Or in your mouth. I am a sucker for redheads and luscious round tits and a wicked foul mouth. I am a media child and I will incessantly quote movies or songs that fit any situation. I like driving around with the windows down and the radio as loud as possible. I wear black chucks and aviator sunglasses. I have made way more bad decisions than good and still managed to come out ahead of the rat race. I BITE. I am enlightened.
Mostly Im here to lay down some heavy brain matter and chat up something interesting. I dont shy away from conversation so feel free to start one. I am a brilliant conversationalist, if I do say so myself. I am a sarcastic dick though, so you take that chance.
And maybe Ill let you touch my beard.
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Once upon a time Ol' Wkd was just bouncing around the Intarwebs wearing his patented and trademarked smirk, a pair of gnarly old Chucks and those uber retro aviators he's so fond of (best $5 I ever spent, don't you doubt it for a second) trying to be the biggest dick he could possibly be and tossing out random helpings of offense and butthurt. Yep, that SmthnWkd was a real Class A, bona fide, dyed in the wool douche canoe. "Fuck 'em. Twice." was his motto. He drank gasoline and chewed coffin nails for every meal.
He liked shiny things (aka, pretty little girls ripe for beatings) and never hesitated to flash that panty melting smirk whenever he could. If that didn't do it you can pretty damn well bet that the Southern accent would seal the deal. That...and the beard.
Then one day the Big Bad Wkd met a slave, and that slave enslaved him without even knowing or trying. she gave more and more of herself to him and in doing so showed him more and more of himself until one day he couldn't really tell if he was him anymore. He looked at himself and thought "That's one righteous dude".
So SmthnWkd stopped being so wicked except to the slave who begged for that from him. she begged for his demons and his darkness and his desire to be poured out from him and make her whole. she begged for the warmth of his light and his love and his embrace to make her safe. she begged for him to be a Man and to take her as his Woman to be one with and complete with.
So he did and he hasn't looked back. And that obsession-cum-owned-slave has cloaked me in the perfume of lust and my mind wandered into darkness.
And as far as Ol' Wkd is concerned about the Intarnets: Fuck 'em. Twice. |
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Gather 'round, kiddies, and let Ol' Wkd tell you a story...
Rounding the fourth corner and looking down the home stretch of half a century (how's that for perspective?) I've occasioned to look back upon the wild and crazy chronicle that passes for my history. For goddam sure it's been a metric fuck ton of holy shit moments. In the grand scheme of things I've been kinky for a fraction of my life span but -boy- have I made up for lost time.
There's been a dramatic shift in my personal self image of late. I look back at the things I've written since meeting the borderline-obsession-cum-slave and I see myself soften. I see that harsh and gruff exterior giving way to a more intimate and introspective Wkd.
That could be a good thing.
she perpetuates that cycle of order-beat-fuck that I crave but then turns and gives me the space to be gentle and considerate. she leans into my gentleness and fosters it with her own vulnerability. she holds me to a higher standard of myself that given the opportunity, I would protect her rather than damage her.
I've all but abandoned the chest pounding and dick swinging that I started (back) with almost a year ago. My outlook is changed and my personality has flipped a full 180.
But that's not to say that scathing sarcasm and razor sharp wit isn't readily at hand. CS is still a shit show and I still lurk around with my popcorn and cheap paper 3D glasses. But these days pouring that angst and derision is better suited for her.
Fuck all y'all. |
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Hell's Bells
Three and a half months later and it's been one hell of a ride. It makes me realize that plans and situations change rapidly and without warning. Sometimes for the better, sometimes not.
That beautiful borderline obsession-cum-slave has been that one constant, the soft glow of redemption, that has pulled me through the wreckage. Even though our relationship has taken some hits she's stayed, she's fought and she's earned her place.
Now she's in a place of change herself. Although a controlled changed, it'll still be hard for her and she'll need the support and guidance that only a man worthy of her calling Master can give.
And we are on that journey together. For better and for worse.
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Fuck, y'all
I want to go on record right now and say that if you are cock strong and think you want to own a slave, buckle up for the ride.
I ain't new to this Dominant thing, but even I get caught up in my...well, let's call it my Big Dick Syndrome. That's where I get so full of my Domly Dom self and forget that there are other people -REAL PEOPLE with REAL FEELINGS and REAL NEEDS- in my life. And when I start swinging my Big Dick (tm) around, those people invariably get hurt by it.
I'm not stupid either. I understand my faults and I know where they come from and I try very hard to combat them. But sometimes I slip.
That borderline obsession-cum-owned slave...
I've fucked that cunt and I've fucked her over. I've treated her miserably, horribly, shamefully. I've practically beat her in the face with every fear she's laid before me.
And she's still looked at me with love, with respect, with obedience. For guidance and for support.
Goddamn, I don't deserve that girl.
But we're here. We're in it.
And the next time I start swinging my Big Dick (tm) around, it's going to be beacuse someone is fucking with my baby girl. And I don't tolerate that shit.
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I suck at this communication thing. It's been the downfall of many...all of my relationships.
But of late I'm learning that communication isn't exactly what I think it is.
I've always thought that it pretty much meant kissing the other person's ass and telling them what they want to hear. Placate the masses, as it were.
Then there's the borderline obsession.
Who -by the way- has gone from borderline to full on to owned slave. Imagine that. Fuck sake, y'all...
So meanwhile, back at the ranch...
Conversation is a funny thing. In the beginning it's a complete vomit of personality. You talk about your likes, dislikes, common ground, uncommon ground...blah blah blah.
Then it tanks. You find yourself basically staring at the person who ten minutes ago you were laughing with, planning with, building a common space with.
And that's when shit gets real.
When you can sit with a person through an episode of your favorite show, a favorite meal, or even in the living room with no television or radio and not feel the need to fill the void with noise...
The slave and I do that.
A lot.
She is happy just to be in my presence and I am happy just to have her there.
But when we do talk...conversation has meaning, it has depth, it imparts knowledge and we learn about each other and ourselves. And being a Sagittarian INTJ that feeds tight into exactly what I need: if you're not giving me information, then I don't need to hear you.
But at the same time, I fucking LOVE when she's just off the cuff silly, spouting random nonsense. She crinkles up her nose and says something so left field I can't help but laugh like a jolly old Santa Claus (that's for you, princess ;))
Case in point...
You never know what you really want until you find it just hanging about, in a dusty bin waiting for you to pick it up.
Thank you, pretty. Not for being what I want but for showing me that you're it.
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Fuck, getting old sucks. And before anyone starts licking my dick and saying "But, Wkd, you amazing slab of manmeat, you're not old" -I am a fair bit older than what's listed in my profile. CS is too stupid to keep up with my age and I'm too fucking lazy to change it. I'm more salt than pepper these days, but I don't mind. Accompanied by my boyish charm and Southern drawl that's 100% grade A panty peeler.
Anyway, I was chatting up the current pair of panties (and an intoxicatingly constantly wet pair they do seem to be), one of our first conversations and we landed on the discussion of whether or not I have ever been submissive.
Short answer: yes
But it wasn't a lifestyle BDSM type submissive role. Hell, I didn't even know what BDSM was back then. The former current Mrs. Wkd & I were kinky; we played with handcuffs and toys and leather, pulled hair and bit, tied each other up. But gender roles were pretty equal opportunity kinky.
Outside the bedroom, however, she was ruthless and manipulative and connived to get the things she wanted. She certainly dominated our marriage and kept me in a place of subservience.
But I was a white collar professional in a high stress occupation so I had to be confident and decisive. I graduated into a leadership role quickly and established a trustworthy integrity. My professional personality was the exact polar opposite of my personal demeanor.
When the former current Mrs. Wkd became the former Mrs. Wkd and there was no more leverage to blackmail me with my entire lifescape underwent a profound scorched earth overhaul. I dropped friends, distanced relatives (hers) and erased relationships like waking from a bad dream. I eradicated even the most remote possible reminders of that part of my life.
And I became completely dominant.
So that brings me to the quandary of the moment: I see so many times on profiles that a woman (or man, to be equal opportunity) is naturally submissive.
What does "naturally submissive" mean?
You say "Yes, sir" and "No, sir"? Hell, I do that; I'm a gentleman, my mother taught me manners and would beat me if I didn't use them.
You let the man lead the way and make all the decisions? That's foolish, a relationship -any relationship- should be a constant conversation about what's best for the couple's happy, healthy future.
You drop to your knees or spread your legs at man's desire? That makes you a slut not a submissive. Not that there's anything wrong with being a slut, I love sluts and those that own it own it amazingly.
I don't consider myself "naturally dominant". It's a skill set that I've learned, developed and polished over trial and tribulation. And I'd bet a dollar to a dick licking that no other swinging ballsack popped out of the Pink Playpen knowing how to lead, nurture and commmand "naturally".
So "naturally" I call bullshit on the whole "naturally" schtick. And if you disagree then "naturally" you're deluding yourself. And as always, I don't give a fuck.
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You know, it's amazing how things change at the drop of a hat. One day I'm just another dick swinging Alpha male running around beating my chest and pissing all over everything and the next...
Finding someone who fits perfectly into that small hollow part of you is an amazingly rare thing. That one person who when you're being obviously text book dominant tells you that's the hottest thing she's ever seen. That one person who when you say you want to try things with a live chicken, a weed eater, and some peach preserves tells you that sounds right up her kinkilicious alley (and all that that implies). That one person who when you put on your domly dom face and demand cuddles falls into bed with open arms and little girl giggles.
I've done the Master thing and I've done the Dom thing and I've done the Daddy thing. They all fell apart disastrously. It was a lot of demoralization. So to step back in the ring and go another round was...daunting.
But there's something energizing, exciting to be able to be all three, to drift fluidly from caretaker to guide to protector to lover often within the same conversation. It keeps me on point and my senses engaged constantly being in tune to which she needs at any given moment.
And maybe that's what I've been missing all along; not somewhere to be but to be everywhere. |
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I've been trying to write this journal for a few days now. Somehow it's been getting stuck in my brain pan and refusing to coalesce into something coherent. Even now hazy on decongestant and bourbon it struggles.
That borderline obsession. Jesus H. Merry Motherfucking Christ. She has bewitched me, she has tangled my senses and made me completely senseless. She has knelt before me and coaxed my deepest, darkest desires from their slumber. She has exalted me and I am drunk with the power and control she has bestowed.
Every other twisted tryst had been nothing more than an exercise in getting my dick hard. That's all I really cared about. A little kinky fuckery and that so long, sister. Why would I invest in some tricky trick that wooed me with fanciful dances about wicked things long enough to get her painted claws into me?
Oh but how she lays her soul bare for me, offers it fully and freely without hesitation hoping I'll do my worst. My sadistic demons giggle and gambol around like witches at Black Mass. I love sticking my finger in her darkness and swirling it around, then sucking it clean. It tastes like sweet slavery.
We're doing this dance of destiny around a fire of sexuality hoping that we'll both fall headlong into the flames and burn away in a conflagration of ecstasy and fulfillment.
I am her Master and she is fully mine. |
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You know, some days I wonder why I show up for the shit show. It's a constant parade of butt hurt prissy bitches who want to piss and moan about me being an insensitive dick.
That or basement dwelling Russian neckbeards posing as 'real slaves'. Honestly I prefer Boris to the presumed indignation of some twat upset because of something I posted.
Two things I'd like to reiterate: I'm proud of being an asshole; it takes practice to reach level and I DON'T GIVE A FUCK.
I don't give a fuck about your feelings or your opinions so feel free to keep them to yourself, most particularly if it's in regard to something Ive previously stated. I don't care how much of a 'precious treasure' you think you are as a sub, you're not mine so at most to me you might be a nice pair of tits. So tits or GTFO.
Also: Yes, I am capable of deep and meaningful discourse about broad range of subjects. I hold two college degrees and have studied many and varied subjects just because. I am that unexpected sapiosexual nerdgasm.
But I'm not here to pontificate or deliberate. I'm here to talk shit and get nasty.
God damn, I always sound like a rage baby when I write. Thats not intentional, mostly it rattles around in my head with a sarcastic note. But I digress.
Among the massive amounts of dreck is a spot of delicious beauty. I'm cozying up to this one and she's rapidly becoming a borderline obsession for me. Jesus, the things she says and the way she says them. Foul mouthed, depraved, slutty and cock hungry.
She makes the demons giggle like schoolgirls.
Kisses, baby girl. |
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Well, alas my Cock Craving Darling was the stuff of fantasy. Somehow we just never managed to connect. I'm pretty sure that was by and large my fault. I don't do well participating in relationships. My attention tends to wander to far and too wide on any given moment. Call it Adult ADHD if you need a label. I prefer to believe that if you stand in one place long enough the whole world will pass by you. And all that that implies.
And now I am somewhere else doing something else.
It takes a lot to keep my attention. Mostly keeping my attention. It's a full contact sport. The moment you decide that your attention should be elsewhere is the precise moment mine will be captured by something new and shiny.
Or maybe I'm just too fucking arrogant and narcissistic to care about anyone besides myself.
Yeah.
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Current Mood: There's A Light That Never Goes Out - The Smiths
I really don't feel like ranting this morning. Christ knows there's enough of it to rage over considering my last few journal entries and the influx of backlash it created.
Let's sort all that out in bulk: I DON'T GIVE A FUCK. Now I don't have to give all of the whiny bleeding heart fucktards individual attention.
Besides my attention is pretty preoccupied with My Cock Craving Darling. She's a metric fuckton of cuteness and I get all evil grinny when we talk. She has that way of saying certain things that...captures my imagination. Not so much what she says but how she says it. Like lions purring. Sure it's cute and fuzzy but you know shit could get wild real quick and end up in bite marks. Scratches.
Still...there's the giant flashing neon sign in great big capital letters: "APPROACH WITH CAUTION". Danger, Will Robinson, DANGER! I know that's just past experience waving its dick at me but it's real enough.
So. I'll just keep on keeping on and see where it ends up. If I end up crashing and burning put me out with bourbon, please.
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Well, it's been a good ride so far. Can't complain really. Just kicking back with my popcorn and watching the shitshow roll past. I am entertained.
That old saw 'You can gold plate a turd but at the end of the day it's still a pile of shit".
I like submissive women because submissive women like dominant men, men who know what they want and how to take it. Not just sexually -least of all sexually- but from life itself. Success and confidence melt panties off of submissives. I know from experience.
I've read a few journals and I think a lot of submissives get a bad rap because they tend to speak plainly and say what they need, what they want and most of all what they like.
I met a girl tonight (bless her adorable submissive heart) who flat out told me she liked second hand bourbon and was addicted to "cock and endless loads of cum". Fuck.Sake. She was very forward and persuasively persistent. I affectionately nicknamed her My Cock Craving Darling.
This should be the part where I tell you a story of my conquest and exploit, in glorious HD pornographic detail. But it's not. I would love to have accommodated her in every extent she asked for but I am very particular and cautious. Maybe later.
The point is: just because a woman can express her want and desire for a dick to be slid into her it doesn't make her any less submissive. Bloody goddamn hell, man, appreciate her for making your job that much easier! Nothing -NOTHING- will wilt your dominance more than trying to read her mind and FUCKING IT UP.
I don't consider it topping from the bottom if she tells me she wants my cock balls deep down her throat. I don't consider it controlling the scene if she says she'd rather have it in her ass. And I certainly don't consider it being bratty/manipulative/disobedient if she tells me she'd rather not. I consider it communication.
(Disclaimer: If you think I need a disclaimer, go fuck yourself)
So. I adore you, My Cock Craving Darling, for the wonderful vocal submissive slut that you are. Your filthy perverted requests are always welcomed and much appreciated. Keep 'em cumming. |
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You know there's a lot to be said about keeping your shit simple. Seems to be some umbrage about a few things so let's lay that out right here and now.
I profess to be a man's man. That means I understand when to be polite and when not to. That means I don't fuck around with the things I want. I state my intent and my requirements clearly, concisely and honestly. I can be rude, crude and socially unacceptable but I can also carry on a respectful conversation with your mother.
I like what I like. You like what you like. Don't tell me you like pain and bondage then get all ass chapped at the phrase "tie you up and beat you senseless". From the post-play conversations I've had that seems to be exactly what happens: I beat something pretty and they lose their senses. Kinda why checking in and paying attention to your bottom is important. And pardon my fucking French but I don't plan to stop using that phrase just because you think "submission is a gift" and you "should be respected". Keep your presents and I'll respect you for a whole lot of other reasons, certainly not because you're an uptight entitled bitch. Lighten up.
Kudos if you're holding out for Mr. DomRight. That ain't me either. I don't appreciate the holier than thou attitude just because YOU think I should be monogamous and committed. Been there, fuck that. I don't misrepresent my relationship intentions trying to land a piece of ass. All I have to do is ask for it and the beard pretty much does the rest. Call me a man whore, male slut, gigolo...whatever. I'm getting mine from willing and consensual participants.
You know, I hate being a douchebag but Christ on a hopped up motorcycle don't come around asking questions and then telling me my answers are wrong. Politely fuck right the fuck off. |
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Boy, this place has gone to hell in a hand basket while I was away.
But fuck it, y'know? I write, I talk a lot of shit, I terrorize the populace. I'm a bit of a dick and a self proclaimed asshole and pretty proud of both facts. I speak sarcasm and profanity fluently. I will openly mock any opinion you have unless it's accompanied by an amazingly stellar set of tits. Even then you have to catch me on a good day.
People take shit so damn seriously anymore. I don't have a long list of requirements or protocols, I don't need you to sell me your soul. I'm just hanging out, chatting it up, having a good time. Lighten up.
I know my profile doesn't exactly match my confession of being sadistic or perverted but believe me I am. I have a fondness for beating pretty little girls senseless, and enjoy all of those nasty pornographic things someone told you nice girls don't do. I love masochistic sluts with a high threshold for pain and humiliation.
I'm still open to the prospect of playmates but I'm not really putting a whole lot of effort into seeking them out. I've toured the scene and met some pretty fantastic people. I'm just waiting to see what the next big thing is.
So don't be shy. At the very least we could have a very pleasant if not amusing conversation.
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| Age: 97 |
| Walking City #27,
California |
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