No, I don’t actually want any of those things, but sometimes, it seems like a sizable portion of the folks here, say, manage to have a dozen or so years of experience in the life while claiming to be in their early twenties and I’m like, apologies to Tim Robinson, but are you sure about that?

Once upon a time, I posted here. I talked with some lovely people. Really, tremendous people! I’m writing my second book right now, which requires a whole lot of work, so what better way to distract myself than with one of my favorite topics?

But who the fuck am I? I’m in my mid-thirties, a professor in literature (I have a love-hate relationship with BookTok), and a dom or a master, depending on who’s asking and how invested you are in labels. I’m not against labels, mind you—what is Saussure’s theory of the sign but a theory of labels? How would we function without labels? What would lonely, awkward teenagers complain about then?

More about me—I’m in decent shape; what actually passes for “fit” in academia, but that doesn’t mean a whole hell of a lot when your entire field literally sits on its collective ass all day.

I suppose I have about twelve years or so of BDSM experience, dating from when I was in high school and handcuffed my first girlfriend to her bed, somehow misplacing the key in the course of our passion and culminating in a mad dash to the local hardware store for a handsaw before her parents got home. I’ve improved somewhat since then, but I make no promises.

I don’t particularly care how much experience, if any, you have. Experience is a poor substitute for enthusiasm or a good attitude, and if given a choice, I’d take the latter every time. And let’s be honest—this shit ain’t exactly rocket science. My dad was a rocket scientist, and rocket science isn’t really even rocket science, so being able to tease you, dominate you, and be a half-way decent human being in the process—now that I think of it, so many of us struggle with the last one, so maybe it is rocket science.

As a dominating agent, I’m kinky and generous, nurturing and as strict as you’ll allow me to be. I’m eminently adaptable, and I find a lot of things enjoyable. I’ve got few things I need in a BDSM configuration, with the exception of some sexual aspect. I’m a pervert and proud of it, damn it. Part of what I enjoy is finding out where our interests overlap, and discovering new things I never thought I’d like. I am but a voyager on a vast ocean of pleasure. I’d like to do a lot of things with you, including denying you orgasms, making you beg, butt stuff, subjecting you to humiliating dirty talk, and as much pain as you’re willing to take. I’ve posted some gonewild stories, accessible via my post history, which are totally unembellished real experiences. That might start to give you an idea of some of the stuff I like.

Well, maybe not as much pain. Some of you are real freaks. But it ain’t my place to judge. We can talk. I also like to be told what a great dom I am, so if you’d just like to skip to the praise, I’m cool with that too.

What I look for in a submissive entity would include an adventurous, responsive personality; a command of prose stylistics commensurate with your command of English as a language (i.e., the only excuse you have for being subliterate is if English isn’t your first language; if that’s so, I applaud you, and it’s not a deal breaker for me); a good sense of humor; and an interest in all variety of kinky shit. I’d like you to be clever and feisty. Someone I’d actually be friends with, in addition to ordering you to put stuff in your butt.

I’d like to talk to you for a bit, get to know you, the whole shebang. It can be in a sexy, flirty way. In fact, it should be! That sounds great! But just jumping in and being like “daddy I need u to punish me hard” is like, well, okay, you’re either a dude or a bot programmed to sound like a shitty porn star or a dude programmed to be a porn star sounding like a shitty bot. Charm me, and I’ll charm you back.

But again, I’m flexible! Unless your sole fetish is, like, dinosaur-on-unicorn nuru massage and you know, I wouldn’t even shoot that down immediately. I’d prefer to exchange a few messages here on Reddit, and then move to kik. I’d like some visual reference, because as much as I’d like to believe you’re an eighteen year old blonde girl with 32DD tits, I can’t shake the feeling that you’re a 44-year od dude named Ted in Akron, OH.

In fact, because I’m fundamentally a pervert, I’d love for this to eventually involve picture and video exchange at a certain point, with or without face, depending on how much of a horrible person you think I might secretly be.

And Ted, if you’re reading this, man, please know that my beef with you is not because of your sexuality, but because of the fact that, statistically, you probably voted for Donald Trump. I’ll celebrate your weird sexy-time desires, but man, there are some things I cannot abide by.

I’ll also say that, like most people, I’m most attracted to beautiful people, but that also, like most people, my definition of beauty is neither purely physical nor totally objective and static. Most of y’all probably got some beauty, somewhere, deep down.

I’d like you to be female, someway, somehow. Usually, that means cis-female, but not exclusively. I identify as heterosexual, but who knows, maybe it’s all about the boobies. If you’re straight up cis-male, I’m not interested—sorry, man. And like, dudes, if you’re on here to pretend to be a lady, fine, whatever, but at least scrub your post history. Hell, that goes for literally anyone messaging anyone on reddit—the first thing anyone does is look at your posts to see if you’re worth talking to for more than fifteen seconds.

This will primarily be online, at least at first. I necessarily spend a lot of time by myself, reading. That’s how I like it. I’d also rather not immediately risk getting a reputation as a weirdo in my field, even though academia is one of the future industries fairly tolerant of weirdos. But, if we really hit it off—who knows? I also won’t insist on monogamy, but again, if we hit it off, who knows?

This was long, but if you’re who I’m looking for, you probably at least didn’t completely hate reading it. If that’s you—message me. If not, you should probably message me anyway, so I can fix you.