‘There’s good news, and there’s bad news,’ I informed my slave one evening last week.
He looked up at me with an expression of equal fear and delight.
‘Well the good news is that my neighbours are away. And the bad news….my neighbours are away.’
I will de-construct this situation for the ignorant/innocent among us. What this essentially meant was that I could create noise to my evil heart’s content without the niggling fear of the thwhacks and cries being over-heard. And without the need to display any kind of consideration whatsoever, unbridled corporal bliss could commence.
For my slave, it meant primal screams of pure ecstatic pain could be released. But also that no one was going to come to the rescue. I don’t think any self-respecting sub would admit to the latter being any kind of security blanket but you never know these days.
Therein lies one lovely definition of ‘mutual liberation’.
And so a veritable symphony of agonising sounds reverberated from my lair. My biggest, loudest leather paddle crashed repeatedly onto quivering cheeks, My whips swished and cracked. My crops smacked until my ears rang. Smiling as the subsequent groans echoed freely through the air, I truly embraced the fact that for once the volume of my viciousness was entirely irrelevant.
To be honest I’m not entirely sure that memorable evening was so much louder than any other, but the ecstatic moment of emancipation from the ears upstairs was somewhat motivating – like finding a huge puddle in your path and suddenly realising you’re wearing Wellington boots (and a rubber catsuit)…it would be wasteful not to get wet. Wouldn’t it?
Ask any Dominatrix about the few downsides of her life-style and in the absence of a detached dungeon with walls of padded steal, she will most probably mention nosy neighbours or ever-present landlords. Call it paranoia, or simple self-awareness but nevertheless such things must be considered because what sounds like rapturous bliss to a sadist, no doubt sounds to most like a good reason to call the police. And besides, who knows when you might need to borrow a cup of tabasco or a stem of ginger.
Of course I don’t really need an excuse to let loose on my slaves…but it’s quite nice to have one. A fleeting window of opportunity to really use and abuse all in the name of serious sadism.