Friday, 11 January 2013

A most exotic, beautiful and charming Japanese Mistress recently hired the facilities here at LDH for an extended tour.  As I was chatting with her, in a haze of submissive admiration of her stunning appearance, I asked if a domination scene was sometimes frustrating for her when not conducted in her Mother Tongue.  She smiled sweetly, and replied that she often conducted a scene with a slave entirely in Japanese. “Oh “I stuttered stupidly,”they know Japanese”.”Oh no,” she smiled again, “usually not one word, but it does not matter… well it makes it more exciting actually, that they do not understand a word I say… but they still have to obey me".

This idea haunted my thoughts for many hours after the meeting with the Japanese Dominatrix. It’s an erotic scene that had not occurred to me before, and I could see it might be very exciting. Ideas formulated in my head like visions.

Like a dog that has no idea what words actually mean the submissive could still be trained to the level the Mistress wanted. It eliminates any possibility of negotiation at language level at the very least. Communication at an “instinctive” more primal level would need to be developed by the submissive in the time available… or as part of an ongoing training process perhaps. What a wonderful way to learn Japanese!

The Mistress will understand the submissive's words but may be pretend not to understand them. The Mistress's verbal expressions will be meaningless to the submissive other than her cadence, the authority of her voice at its most basic level. Particular words and phrases would need to be learnt quickly. Words like “Kneel” or “Crawl” and phrases like “Come Here” or “Bend Over”.

My mind began to race, working through all the depraved possibilities of this scenario and then suddenly an icy cold thought hit me like a sledge hammer shattering my revelry...

My father had been a Japanese POW. Captured at the fall of Singapore he had the most appalling of wars and was one of relatively few to survive to give witness to the horror that had occurred. Not that he gave witness as he refused to talk about his experiences. His years of forced labour constructing the “Death Railway” across Burma had scarred him most deeply. If he knew a word of Japanese I never heard him speak it. He had struggled for his life fighting Malaria, berri berri, dysentery and every other tropical disease and parasite that infests the tropics with little or no food and minimal medical facilities.

How had he communicated with his camp guards? Apparently they were mostly Korean, only the officers were Japanese and any communication with them would probably result in punishment or even death.

He didn’t live long enough to see the Tsunami that swamped much of Japan but I know that he would unashamedly been delighted about it.

Is there some kind of trans-generational karmic thing going on here? Is this why I am the way I am? Can it be a root cause of the reason why I run a dungeon for hire as well as the seed of many other facets to my bizarre personality? This realisation has dampened the pleasure of the idea planted by the Japanese Mistress, more the pity as it was most enjoyable and attractive at the time.

Maybe a Russian Mistress Scene would be more PC.

Before you think I am just joking consider the fact that I have heard from more than one Professional Mistress that they have Jewish customers that ask them to role play concentration death camp scenes. The Mistress playes the Role of the SS guard, the Jew the vicitim doomed to extermination.

Is this inter-generational catharsis, unpleasant coincidence or just another example of our bewildering Psychology?

Much more thinking required…

In the mean time London Dungeon Hire is available for all your Role Playing requirments.
London Dungeon Hire

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