No, I don’t have swine flu. Although my boss did the very cute Japanese thing and came to work wearing a mask today. Personally, I think he could do much better with his mask selection…perhaps the leopard print or something with Hello Kitty on it instead of boring, hospital white.
Anyways, Master and I were watching a program on the CI channel last night about, The Toy Box Killer. Basically, this man David Parker Ray became infamous for being sentenced to 224 years in prison in 2002 for kidnapping women and keeping them as sex slaves. He called himself The Dungeon Master and had a very elaborate trailer fitted out with instruments for restraining, inflicting pain and sexually abusing his captives. It is believed that he killed many of the women who entered his toybox, but police were never able to find a single body.
So I was watching as the police showed many of the henious instruments he had constructed and kept in his toy box: spreader-bars, dildos on sticks, fucking machines, floggers, restraining tables and various types of cuffs, collars and gags. They showed where he set up his tripod so he could record his encounters with his victims and they played segments of his initiation tape where he welcomed his ‘pieces of meat’ and informed them what he was going to do to them.
At this point, I’m sure the standard reaction one is supposed to have when hearing about this sort of thing is revulsion and horror. I, on the other hand, was getting juicy.
It all sounded so hot – the devices, the torture, the restraint. He even had a little cavity in the wall where he would chain up his captives and shut them away while he went out. Everything (except the whole killing side of things of course) was speaking to my nether regions. And that’s when I began to think, “Am I a bit sick?”
My reaction is not only limited to CI channel documentaries. Anytime I get a whiff of a storyline involving kidnapping, captivity or torture of some description, I am so watching it. I’ve also been thinking about perhaps perusing the true crime title series so I can get some more gritty stuff to entertain myself with. The sugary-sweet, desperate-woman-first-resists-but-eventually-realises-that-submission-is-her-destiny-and-allows-her-inner-slut-to-bloom stuff sets my teeth on edge. I need force. I need pain. I need a bit of brutality with my fiction.
I know I’m supposed to be disgusted and should be busily making placards to join the protest for crimes against women, but I find myself distracted and and thinking about my lolly-jar instead. Instead of thinking, ‘Damn that man has a great toybox!’ I known I should be thinking about the terrible experiences of these women. But I don’t and I’m guessing that gets me a big, fat cross on my behavioural report card. That’s why I haven’t really mentioned this dirty little pleasure of mine to anyone before. Instead, I decided to keep it low-key and tell the innernets about it! Yay for low-key confessions…
**Disclaimer: Of course, I don’t actually want anything horrendous like this to happen to me or anyone for that matter, but the fantasy of it is….how shall I put it? Delish 🙂 **