Inferno Wishes

As you may or may not know, one of the features of Inferno is the Fantasy Committee. One has the opportunity to give a fantasy to this august body, and they'll see what they can do about making it real. Many many many fantasies seem to involve getting abducted after dinner.

Anyway, I have a fantasy. Even though I'm not going to be writing it down and sending it in.

It's a Hostel fantasy!

Some hot young man--or some hot seasoned man--wakes up, groggy from the effects of his rufie cocktail, and finds himself handcuffed and shackled to a chair, a cloth hood over his head. While he's sightlessly exploring his surroundings, the hood is swiped off, and there I am!

Alarmed, confused, perhaps slightly reassured by my pleasant demeanor, but I'll sure enjoy watching his eyes bug out and his breathing get labored when he sees the array of implements on the worktable behind me.

"Are you ready to hurt for me, Buddy?" I ask.

Maybe he'll whimper. Or beg.

(Schwing!)

"Tell me about yourself, boy. If I like you, maybe I'll have a heart and go easy on you."

(I won't.)

And then I start in.

I loved the part in Hostel when the guy vomits behind his ball gag from terror!

And nothing would be off limits.

When would it be over, when his pain and fear disolve into godforsaken despair, and then complete abandonment. In other words, total submission to me.

There's that "bait and switch" aspect to SM. Nobody beats off when they're seventeen years old thinking about clothespin scenes, but we find them deeply satisfying and rewarding, provided they're done right.

But Hostel--that amazing, amazing movie--has kind of brought me back to my roots.

Yeah. I'm a Sadist. A vicious, relentless Sadist.

Okay! Okay! So I get teary-eyed when the local tv news shows puppies that the local SPCA has for adoption. So what?

You get up against that cross and show me your back, why doncha?

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