Anecdote: Dom life, and being a “good” man

A while back I was running a law project. It helped get representation for people who were being fucked over by cops, generally because they were black, or young, female and blue-haired, or gay, or poor, and so on. It meant getting into confrontation with cops a lot. Sometimes it meant having to confront them physically, because they’re used to being able to beat people up without much risk of their victims being believed or having the power to do anything about it.

So although I hate confrontation, let alone violence, I found myself getting into violent confrontations on a fairly regular basis. I wasn’t an adrenalin junky at all; but I was a justice junky.

The big thing was to have people with cameras, and people who looked useful in a fight and not scared of cops. That meant that cops wouldn’t do the violence they’d intended when they set out. So there’d be stand-offs. A quick anonymous bashing, with their number badges off, wasn’t an option. So it usually ended peacefully.

But it was risky. I’d do macho posturing during the head-to-heads, and afterwards if there were girls watching, but it always scared the shit out of me.

Anyway, there was a girl whose landlord wanted her out. The landlord had cop friends who were prepared to act, illegally, as eviction agents. I defended her, and was both virtuous and heroic. I put myself in harm’s way for her because that was my job, and in the end I won, and the cops backed off and left her alone.

Talking afterwards, at her place, we were kind of attracted. Which means I fancied the arse off her and she thought I might be all right: I’m just declaring the average.

But because we’d met in a context where I was a sort of heroic community activist, and I thought she fancied the virtuous version of myself, I gave her a lot of feminist posing. It was real, I mean, they were things that I really thought, but the result was that she decided she didn’t fancy me.

I did eventually see her naked, though.

It was eight months later. I was visiting a friend of mine, who I hadn’t seen in a while. Someone had tried to burn down the apartment he was living in, but he was an artist and he thought the charred beams improved the place. So he was still living there.  

Anyway, there came some unmistakeable sounds from one of the bedrooms: Thwap! followed by a hard breath.

Then THWAP, followed by a low, female moan. Then THWAP! followed by a high-pitched pain/pleasure noise. Some girl was getting the cane, and she was enjoying herself.

Anyway, a bit later the door opened, and it was my blue-haired girl, the dye gone so she was back to her natural red, skipping naked out the door with fresh cane stripes across her arse, to make a cup of tea for her mistress. She was utterly, exuberantly happy.

So, I’d hidden my dom side from her, because I’d thought she didn’t want that. What I got for my carefulness was a teary vista of her naked, freshly caned body. I mean that about “teary”: she was so beautiful and sexy that I cried that night.

I mean, when I got home.  

Oh. But she made me a cup of tea.  

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