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 Black Jeopardy, but I don’t know….

Once upon a time, I posted here. I talked with some lovely people. Really, tremendous people! I’m studying for my medical boards right now, so what better way to distract myself than with one of my favorite topics?

I’m 26, a medical student at a prestigious university, 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; 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 I suppose.

I have about six 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.