Probation Officer #201: Endgames 10

After I’d told Jock what had happened, I called Seth McGuinness. McGuinness isn’t important in this story: he’s just an honest detective who was working night shift at the time. I didn’t know him, but Jock did, and told me to call him. 

McGuinness heard me out, and said that technically Curnow wouldn’t be a missing person, if he disappeared, for another day or two. But in practice the cops would be looking out for him, starting now. He made a joke about Jock, so I made one about Maynard. I was grinning when I hung up.

McGuinness turned out to be the first cop I actually chose to talk to from time to time, for the fun of it. And because it was useful to have an ally over on their side. But as I said, that’s not in this story. 

The next morning I was at work early, because I hadn’t slept well. Ana was there at reception, waiting for me. 

Better to have loved and lost

People say it’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. I guess it’s true. 

And I know that it’s an honour that Lican should think I’m the person who should teach her new dom how to manage and guide her.

But there’s loss, too. It means Lican will never again fly a thousand miles to see the local sights, I suppose, but mainly to get her ass smacked and fucked. I know that Lican and I were never a real possibility. We live far too far apart. My Spanish and her English were never good enough to let us truly relax together, except when we were doing sex.

Still and all and all, I can be philosophical about it, but it’s loss. I seem to have lost a lot, just a bit too much, lately. That’s probably about enough self-pity, for today. And the thing from yesterday, about the excellence of sex and love: that’s still true. 

A new Dom asked me for advice

Why I wrote this

A woman I know has found a new Dom, who hasn’t had any bdsm experience. He’s finding it hard to find the half-way point between martial arts levels of discipline and being too light. He asked me to give him some counsel, and I wrote him this. 

1 Know how happy and amazed you should be

dominanceThe trust and love of a submissive woman is pretty much the best thing in the world. You’re incredibly lucky and privileged to be well on the road to having it. At the same time, for your sake and hers, it’s important that she feels privileged to have such a strict but loving dom.

Now, she’s going to give you some rights over her that most women would be shocked to grant to a man. Her body becomes yours, to enjoy as you will. And you have the right to discipline her. The sensations that come from giving that kind of – sometimes painful – guidance and correction when she misbehaves, can be very intense.

2 You have duties

But you can’t ever forget what she’s giving you those rights for. She expects and wants certain things from you, including safety, a feeling of being loved and cared for, pleasure, and having enough leeway to be frilly and silly, and she needs fun and mischief. You want to enjoy her submission, and that’s only going to work in the longer term if she’s a happy girl.

So, she may surrender all her power to you, but there’s still a quid pro quo. You could spend an hour in which she sucks your cock, while you teach her how you like that done, and use the crop across her arse if she’s not enthusiastic enough. Theoretically you could keep that going for an evening, with a noticeable drop-off in enthusiasm but probably without too much complaint. Two evenings in a row, and you’re going to have a sulky girl who’s less fun to be around.

I’m not sure at what point she’d slam her door, with you on the outside of that door, but that point would come.

The point is that for all you’re in charge, and she’s surrendered to you, if you don’t meet her needs then eventually things won’t work so well.

 3  Discipline and a submissive girl

That brings us to discipline. It’s an important thing between a dom and his submissive. It’s one of the most important ways in which the dom sets limits for her, and establishes that those boundaries can’t be crossed without consequences. She will be happier with limits, and happy that you care enough to monitor whether she stays within them. Sometimes she won’t be very happy at all, while the punishment is proceeding. But your goal should be to make sure she can be happy shortly afterwards.

If she can be cheeky to you, within half an hour of getting the cane, then you’ve done well.

Why do you want her to be able to be cheeky to you? It’s because of what makes a submissive woman most satisfactory to be with. You don’t want her to be perfect, and you don’t want her so afraid that she’s always watching out that she never annoys you. The balance you want is a girl who knows that you’re in charge, but isn’t afraid of you.

She should be afraid of doing things that you have warned her will bring her a severe punishment, but she should know that that comes from your care for her: and she should be afraid only of the specified severe punishment, and not afraid of you. She should be clearly told in advance what things will lead to severe punishment. That means she should always be able to avoid it, with just a bit of care. 

So respecting you, loving you while accepting that she does as she’s told: those things require you to give her some discipline, but you also need to show her a lot of love.

Most of the time, a hand spanking over your knee will give her the guidance she needs. You keep spanking till you can hear that she’s not laughing any more, and it’s got through to her. But she’ll probably be playful and a bit cheeky again before the red has faded.

That’s okay. If she’s cheeky, then spank her some more – for the fun of it –  and she’ll find a way of making that the start of an amusing and sexy evening.

4  The balance

more dommySo it’s right to set clear rules and consequences, and it’s right that in some cases punishment should be harsh enough to make her remember and fear getting that consequence again. But most of the time you and your new submissive are dancing together. In that dance you’re in control, overall, but she should be able to be herself too, to please and amuse you. And she should be having fun.

So don’t be too harsh. Don’t let her get away with things too much, either; a good hard hand spanking over your knee will never do her any harm.

Above all, you don’t want to tame her too far, let alone break her will. Her little rebellions are part of your dance, and you’ll come to enjoy having to put down the occasional insurrection. With a smile on your lips and a song in your heart.

Finally, I hear that you’ve bought your first riding crop. Good, and I hope it sees a lot of use. But that little that tassel on the end of the crop? Most of the time, that’s the part of the crop you use. You can apply it to her most intimate places. You only use the shaft of the crop when you want to teach one of those harsh lessons I mentioned. 

Be careful, be loving, and always keep your sense of humour. Good luck!

 

Who the hell am I to say this?

I wrote that advice, above, because Lican has met a man. He’s not experienced in bdsm, but she thinks he’s a natural dom. But she’s worried because he reads things on the net, and he sometimes thinks he’s going to get absolute obedience from her and he’s going to base his disciplinary regime on stories he reads that are based on internet play and not reallity. 

She told him about me, and he asked me to write something for him. I’ve posted it here because I hope it might be useful to someone else, and because I’d be keen to hear comments.

The thing is, I’m not feeling like the man who knows everything at the moment. I know some things, but my heart is currently ripped to shit because the woman I love left me, and that’s still the most important fact in my life. (Bless Lican, but I don’t mean Lican.) No-one feels clever alone, with their heart ripped open. Still, the things I’ve written here are things I do know, for what that’s worth.  

Light work

shortsI have a guest from Argentina. Her name is Lican, and I’ve mentioned her before. We had an adventure together, a couple of years ago now. I was hoping her friend Angelica would be coming too, but not this time.

I never did tell her story very effectively, but a lot of it can’t be told at all. So I’ll tell it later, but I’ll have to fictionalise it a lot more than I did with what I wrote while it was actually happening.

Anyway, this means I’ll be spending the next two days with her, so blogging will be light.  

Probation Officer #200: Endgames 9

My house seemed quiet, if not entirely safe, once Curnow had gone. I finished the whisky I’d poured myself, wondering what had just happened. It seemed, though, that I believed Curnow, when he claimed that he hadn’t planted the baggie of coke in Ana’s room.

When he’d gone into Ana’s place he’d probably brought along a baggie of his own, ready to plant, but he’d found that one. He could take it into the station feeling like an honest cop. 

And I’d convinced Curnow that I hadn’t put that baggie in Ana’s room for him. He’d decided that I was more Machiavellian than I ever really managed, and that if I’d planted the drugs I’d have had six different ways of proving that I didn’t. Since I didn’t have anything, I must have been thinking that Curnow had planted the baggie. I could only think that if it hadn’t been me.

What was odd was how much that scared Curnow. I should probably be scared too, but I didn’t know who I should be scared of. I didn’t know anyone apart from Curnow who’d want to plant drugs on Ana. Or had it been to catch Curnow?

If Ana was the target, I was probably in danger too. If Curnow was the target, I probably wasn’t. Not that that helped at all. 

Curnow was a nasty man, but he was far from stupid. If he’d thought he was in danger, maybe he was right. If something happened to him and they re-traced his steps, they’d probably find out that he’d visited me. I didn’t want to be the person last known to have seen Curnow alive. 

It was nearly midnight, a bad time to call anyone. Jock wouldn’t be happy if I called the cops before I’d spoken to him. He wouldn’t be happy to hear from me at all, of course. For a second I considered a long distance call to Samoa, to talk to Sa’afia. I rejected calling Ana just as quickly. Poor Jock. I called him.  

Probation Officer #199: Endgames 8

Curnow stood up, but he walked away from me. He muttered, “shit.”

“Well, I didn’t have any coke to plant. I never have coke around. It’s boring. So there’s that.”

nightwindow“Oh, fuck off.” Curnow was staring out my window. 

“Still, I s’pose I could have gone out and got some. If none of you guys were watching me. And I could’ve put it under the floorboard after Jane had taken her photo. She probably wouldn’t have noticed.”

“You really got nothing? You didn’t even prepare a story?” There was nothing out my window, just a porch, a hedge, and the sides of the neighbours’ houses. You could hardly see the street. Curnow didn’t want me to see that I’d scared him. That only made sense if he was telling the truth. 

“If it wasn’t me and it wasn’t you … You’re in the shit, aren’t you?” I was still puzzled. Curnow wasn’t.

He didn’t look at me. “Thanks for the whisky.” He was already leaving, walking fast. He closed the front door quietly. 

Probation Officer #198: Endgames 7

“What, you’re saying you didn’t plant that dope on Ana? Bullshit.”

“And you think that if you act me some disbelief, that’s going to make me think you didn’t? That’s bullshit.”

“Oh, come on. It was you. I know it and you have to know it. But if it wasn’t you, that’d at least make it interesting. So we’ll pretend it wasn’t you and see where it goes. Well, it wasn’t Ana. Jane Siebel and I both saw that gap in the floorboards and there was nothing in there. The same day you found it there. Ana couldn’t have put anything there because she was at Kempff, Hsang and Cowper before Jane and I went to Ana’s place. There were people at Kempff’s watching her all afternoon.”

“Yeah. But she could’ve called someone, got them to do it for her.” 

cellphone“I thought you might be monitoring her phone. So I made her take the battery out straight after she called me. So you couldn’t track her. And when she got to Kempff’s they took her phone off her. She couldn’t use her phone, and she never used theirs.”

Curnow nodded. “Yeah. Okay. Yeah, that figures. That leaves you, then.” 

“Crap. It leaves you. I’m glad we’re getting on and all, but, you know, you’re a crook. Right? You’ve planted drugs on people before. You threatened to rape Ana. And you needed to get leverage on her Dad. Of course you planted the dope. What’s this even about?”

“I found those fucking drugs in that bitch’s floor. I know I didn’t put them there. Look, I said tidying up after killing you would be too much like work, because you’ve got stuff that points to me stashed all over the place.”

“With different people. You’d never get all of it before they started looking for you.” I hadn’t done anything like that. So long as he thought I would have, it didn’t matter.

“Let’s say. But d’you think you could protect Ana from me, if you piss me off more than you’re doing right now? Jane Siebel? Your Mom?”

Cops and probation officers often deal with the aftermath, when someone insults someone’s mother. It’s a matter of honour to go insane with rage. It always seemed a bit silly. “Ah, you don’t want to kill my Mom. It’d just be embarrassing, know what I mean?”

“Huhn.” He looked at me, not liking what he saw. “Horseshit. It wouldn’t be embarrassing. You want me to explain death to you? You want to have to explain it to your family? Stop pretending you’re not scared; you’re shit at it. Convince me that you didn’t put that dope there. Or else admit that you did.” 

“Okay. Well, I can’t admit that I put it there, because I didn’t.” Then I thought about it. “Actually, I don’t think I can prove that, though. I’ve got nothing.”

Probation Officer #197: Endgames 6

Curnow stretched and then relaxed, slouched on the couch while I sat in an armchair on the other side of the coffee table.

He said, “I wasn’t going to fuck that bitch, you know. I was just putting a scare into her.”

I said, “yeah,” as neutrally as I could. If I let it go too easily, or pretended I believed him, he’d get suspicious. I didn’t want to get him angry, either. I’d be a fool if I wasn’t scared of him. But also, I didn’t want him to leave. I wanted him to talk.

“You fuck her?”

“Not even going to answer that.” But I couldn’t stop myself from shaking my head.

 “Yeah, yeah. You know, the boys thought you were fucking her. You were being such a white knight. But I knew you weren’t. You’re a faggot.”

I sighed. That wasn’t worth an answer either.

“Oh, now you’re feeling all righteous because I said faggot. Faggot. Faggot. Faggot. But I got nothing against faggots. Usually. But you, you’re just a faggot in every damn way. Course you wouldn’t fuck her. Your client.”

“Yuh. My client.” I held the tumbler to my mouth again, and tilted it. 

whiskyCurnow looked at me. “You’re not drinking. You had whisky on your breath when you answered the door but you weren’t drunk. You’ve only played with your drink since, while you’ve been pouring me glasses. There was a photo of me taken while I was outside on your porch. It would’ve gone to a security company, wouldn’t be hard to find which. You sneaked a pic of me with your cell phone when I was in the corridor and sent it to someone. I guessing that lawyer bitch, Siv, Silver, Siebel. Jane Siebel, right?”

I inclined my head, neither yes nor no.

“So someone’s got proof I been inside the house. And now you’re trying to get me drunk. For fuck’s sake. Faggot, I’ll say what I’ve come to say quicker if you don’t waste time insulting my intelligence.” 

I said nothing. We were both trained interviewers, so silence wasn’t going to be as powerful as it sometimes is. But I let it stretch on. Eventually he recognised the interrogator’s pause and chuckled. I laughed too. 

“All right. I’m going to go working in security. Damn near three times the pay. I don’t really care that I got fired; I was going to quit anyway. So I don’t need to do anything to you. Killing you’d be easy, but you’re half clever and the covering up afterwards’d be a pain in the ass. Understand where I’m coming from?” 

“No kill I.” 

“That’s Star Trek, isn’t it? The one with the acid pizza that eats rocks and kills people.” 

“‘Devil in the Dark’.”

“Jesus, you are a total fucking faggot.” 

“Yeah. You’re not really hear to tell me something. If you were you’d have told me by now. You want to ask me something, and you want me to think it’s safe to answer you. So what do you want to know?”

“Good. You know that dope in that bitch’s room. That baggie of coke. That I got set up with, so it looked like I’d planted it. That was a brilliant sting, that, and I walked straight into it. Now, I know Jane Siebel wouldn’t do that. She’s got a bigger stick up her ass than you have. So did you put it there, or did that bitch put it there herself?” 

Probation Officer #197: Endgames 5

I wouldn’t have surprised if it had been a neighbour come to complain about the Samoan log drums. Still, as I’ve mentioned, they’re deaf. 

There’s a moment in the Georg Solti recording of Siegfried where Siegfried strides through a wall of flames, and the Vienna Philharmonic is making a huge and wonderful racket about it, and you can still hear the Vienna Sophiensaal cat wandering amongst John Culshaw’s microphones and demanding to be fed. I’m wasting your time by mentioning this, I know, but my point is that the neighbours have stood for, or sat quietly knitting through, anything by way of noise. 

Alternatively it could be someone popping round on the off-chance of having sex with the host. That happened often enough for me to consider the possibility. I hoped it’d be Jane Siberry, who I should have been chasing harder, and I feared it’d be Ana. I didn’t want to talk to Ana. 

So I opened the door. It was Greg Curnow. He’d never been to my place before, but he was still a cop, even he was in the process of getting fired. Of course he’d know how to find me.  

His shirt was free of his pants. But not his belly. Unfortunately, he was the fit kind of crooked cop. By way of greeting he said, “Cunt.” 

van dykeHe swayed a bit, but even drunk he could still take me. But once a second had passed I relaxed a little. He’d been trained, and he knew that his best chance for inflicting total damage on me, without my getting in any retaliation before I starting bleeding onto my carpet, was immediately the door opened. It hadn’t already happened, so it wasn’t his intention. I said, “‘Allo, cock”, in my best Dick van Dyke cockney.

He looked at me, puzzled. I shrugged. “Yeah, it’s funnier if you’ve seen Mary Poppins.”

He stared at me. “Seen what.”

He didn’t want to hear about Mary Poppins. I said, “I’ve got whisky. Want one?”

“One? Fat chance.”