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| doulos |
I have just awoken from sleeping off the night's excesses. Had planned to meet up with some fellow philosophers before heading off to the club. But being philosophers, that plan withered as the day wore on. So I went straight to the club, and arrived just before it opened.
I may have looked like a sad fanatic, but this proved fortuitous as a delightful Domme, whom I have had the pleasure of playing with before, turned up and needed some help with moving her equipment. I helped her with some flyers. For this small favour, I was to later receive the harshest torture session my body has ever been submitted to. Parts of my body still feel rather raw. I found the pain itself to be not very enjoyable, so perhaps I lack the masochistic strain in my psyche after all. What gave me the rush and the high was the fear of what was coming next and the restraints ensured I was not in direct control of whether it happened or not. So it seems to be the losing control element that really made the scene so powerful for me. And if somewhat unpleasent things must be done to me to bring that lack of control into perfect and sensual clarity, well then it is a means to an end!
And then there was the kindly smile on the Domme's face as she brought out yet another painful looking implement that made me want to experience it rather than utter a safe word. Only a spoilt child would curtail such an experience when the other is so looking forward to trying something else out.
The rest of the evening, I chatted with people I know from the munches. The philosophers that I had wanted to meet up with before stayed till closing listening to some of the old school House music (some of it almost as old as me). Then we walked all the way to Soho for an early morning Chinese breakfast. What a night!
