Blackmail scenes typically take place long distance over Skype. This is a challenge that always make me come alive. I’m blessed with the gifts of being quite sharp and more than just a little bit clever. When provided a tiny bit of information, I can create an entire dossier of embarrassing facts about you in almost no time.
A perfect example of this was the time I sent a difficult newbie victim a photo of the inside of his new kitchen. He’d made the grave mistake of thinking I was just a pretty face. Oh, did he pay! Admitting as much after I emptied his PayPal account. 🙂
Another of my favorite stories occurred a number of years ago at my 46th St. dungeon, and it was a role-play blackmail scene. I received an outline from my DC-based sub. He Amtrak-ed in to see me in NYC 3 or 4 times a year. He knew me well, and for this particular visit he asked me to incorporate an imaginary dossier into the scene. One that would ruin, not only his professional reputation, but also turn his family and friends against him. He wanted to be scared.
Perfect, I thought.
I asked Mistress Natalie to join the scene and play the role of my assistant. Halfway through our hour together, my sub naked and restrained on the floor, I brought out a thick file—the dossier. I began to describe its damning contents. After elaborating on some of its more frightening details I pointed up to the dark painted ceiling—14′ above—telling him that I’d placed cameras there years ago during my build-out. I told him that I’d always recorded all of our phone conversations, and I threw in a couple of other scary details to enhance the reality of his requested scene.
The next thing I knew my normally calm thrill-seeking sub freaked out. Not a garden variety pause to compose oneself, but rather full-on panic. The session ended. I spent the remainder of our time talking him down.
Even years later, Natalie and I still laugh about that scene. How could we help but laugh? A seasoned 60-something journalist from DC, sophisticated and worldly—a lifelong submissive player—temporarily lost his mind because I performed my role too well. A role he not only requested, but elaborately outlined in writing. There were no cameras. There were no recordings. There was no damning evidence. Just my words…
That, my thrill-seeking friends is how scary I can be. Do you dare?
[Linked image: The actual kitchen from my first anecdote.]