Having recently devoured read Flag’s magnum opus “the Forked Tongue,” I’ve found myself more interested in the concept of the mindfuck - in the idea of taking someone down the road of their fears and sort of showcasing it. This last weekend I had an opportunity to do something along those lines, so I thought I’d share with you the experience.

I have the pleasure of being one of the staff of the Studio Chicago, a new dungeon set up by my friends Mistress Jaded and Mistress Simone. Another professional who works there, a switch by the name of Ava, is a long time friend of mine. We don’t get to see each other all too often, so when I got the chance to spend some time with her before the grand opening party of the Studio I took advantage of it. We snuggled up, watched movies, ate popsicles, chatted about scenes and such. One thing she told me about was her great experience having a master of the steel point, Padre Pugno, put angel wings in her back, i.e. needles with white feathers glued into the caps.

I agreed that the pictures she showed me were beautiful, and that she had, indeed, been brave. See, up until recently, needles had been her hard limit - in fact, she still hates them, only does them because she is an exquisitely submissive bottom who wants to please her top, in this case the notoriously sadistic Padre Pugno.

It was about this time that I realized that there was an…opportunity here. I decided to lay the groundwork. “Boy, you would have hated the movie Imprint,” I said. “I got it because it apparently had some intense rope suspension - and it did, it did - but it was part of a torture scene.”

I kept my voice friendly as I painted the picture. “See, after the woman was suspended, they took long acupuncture needles and inserted them under her fingernails.” She blanched at that. “And then under her gums, right at the tooth line.” She whimpered a bit and held her hands to her face. I just kept on being conversational. “It was actually strangely beautiful, with the suspension and the red ribbons on the end of these long graceful acupuncture needles…”

Ava whimpered some more, and I pretended to notice her distress for the first time. “Oh! Hey, don’t worry. Remember, I said they were acupuncture needles. Totally different than what Padre used on you.” I then dropped the subject and we went back to watching American Psycho, a much more comforting story.

Over the course of the evening and the next day, before the event, I had a couple of opportunities to reference that image - never in a scary way, just reminding her of it, and of the fact that it involved A) a suspension and B) acupuncture needles. Again, never making a point of it (ha!) just bringing it up casually.

Then…the event. She had a client there who had never seen her in suspension before, and she asked if I could oblige. Always happy to lend a colleague a hand, I put her in a nice snug takate-kote style harness, with hip, thigh, and ankle supports as well. And while Ms. C (another pro dom at the Studio) began to slap and punch and otherwise amuse herself, I whispered into Ayva’s ear:

“I didn’t think of it at first, but this red rope I got from Lee is almost the same color they used in that movie. You know, where they tortured the girl after she was suspended exactly the way you are.” Her eyes got a little less floaty, a little wider. “Maybe we should give your client a real show. Really, don’t you think he deserves it? Come to think of it…I do have some acupuncture needles in my kit…”

The resulting begging - “No, Mr. Gray, please, no, don’t do that! He’s impressed OW! enough!” (that interjection was due to some of Miss C’s expert slapping). I smiled enigmatically at Ava and left her to dangle. Another top came along to play, and I just sat to monitor the suspension as she dangled.

That, you see, wasn’t the mind fuck. My idea of the mindfuck is when you don’t have to really lift a finger to take the submissive into the depths of despair - you let their own fear and imagination do the work for you. So I watched Ava, and observed her as her stress levels and her endorphins took her to…well, to a more suggestible place.

At which point I walked over to my kit, took out my sharps container, and placed it under Ayva, directly in her line of site.

She saw it…and burst into tears. Victory.
For those of you not used to a good BDSM mindfuck (or scene, for that matter) let me assure you of a couple of things: first, the tears were a catharsis, a release for her of tension and a surrender of the will that is exactly the kind of thing she loves about playing this way.

Second, before I sound full of myself, making her burst into tears is about as difficult as it is to make her orgasm - and I believe at that point she was well into the double digits under the ministrations of Miss C.

So it wasn’t that I had done anything especially huge - but I do feel that it was somewhat elegant, subtle, and viciously effective. Not to mention immensely satisfying to a sadistic sapiosexual like myself.