HAPPINESS IS AN UNHAPPY MORON
Well, it looks like my project to remake myself is bearing some fruit. If all goes well I will get the reputation of a “dangerous dom,” which is one of the best things that can happen to a transgressionist. It is, after all, a recognition that rules are being broken and people are getting scared. And it is even more fun when the people who are getting scared are folks whom everyone knows have the IQ of a small rock.
It’s working like this. Our sub goes to a small slosh that was created by a friend of ours for folks who did not like to travel the distance to attend our big one. Unfortunately, in doing so he managed to acquire a few rejects from the rescue mission. Anyway, for reasons Mrs. Dagger and I have yet to figure out, our slave insists on attending that soiree for the unwashed and because she enjoys the stuff we do to/with her, she likes to sort of brag about it. And that is where the fun comes in.
Now remember, we are extreme edge players. For us, Hannibal Lector is a cultural icon. And the stuff she likes to tell them about, particularly when it involves that most innocent of items, the cattle prod, is enough to make these folks lose control of their bowels, at least they would if they had any control to begin with (but they are very patriotic and only buy incontinent briefs with a flag on them). You would not believe the old wive’s tales and utter absurdities these imbeciles believe about the cattle prod. To hear them talk you would think I was taking a wire, plugging it into the wall and then using the bare other ends on our slave. (Actually, the French in Algeria had a device that worked that way and someday I may build a copy.) They have absolutely NO knowledge of how the prod works or what it does, but of course, being the semi-literates that they are, they think they know everything.
Our slave came to the dungeon after hearing their nonsense and when she told us, the engineering professor sitting across from us laughed so hard he nearly fell off the couch! He could not believe the utter stupidity of what was being related to us.
Now, if I were an SSC weenie, I might have been somewhat concerned by what this might do to my reputation. But, being who I am, I am overjoyed at what it may do FOR my reputation.
If all goes well, the dumb-dumb club will go forth and complain to everyone they know about how terrible I have become and, as they are universally despised, my personal popularity should soar through the roof. I will have the double blessing of being attacked by people who are held in contempt by those of us with brains on one hand, and being sought out by those who seek a riskier form of BDSM than that offered by the Boredom and Safety 101 crowd.
All this from a little fun with the cattle prod. Next stop—BREATH PLAY!