UPDATE: I’m not getting too many comments on this one, but I have received a few emails from readers. The consensus is unanimous: He’s crazy. Dump him.
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This is going to be a GREAT BIG VENT! I am dumping the Collector until he gets rid of the cattle prod and apologizes for real, and if he reads this, I don’t care!
A while ago, he bought a cattle prod (presumably from Amazon, as there are not many ranch-supply stores in Manhattan). It’s very similar to this one. I recognized it because we had one at my old dungeon, although we seldom used it.
The thing is, he didn’t introduce me to it until I was tied up and blindfolded. I could intuit his presence leave the room, and then he came back a minute later and he turned the fucking thing on close to my ear. They make a very sinister low-pitched humming noise. It’s not loud, but it sounds like…well, electricity.
Oh boy, I thought. I really hope that’s not what I think it is.
Now, I don’t mind playing with electricity–either giving or receiving. I have a pretty powerful TENS unit that I use on myself, another one that I use on clients, and at the dungeon we had a fancy E-Stim and a violent wand (of course) and those gloves that convey electricity. I’ve even used those anti-barking shock collars for dogs (on clients, not on myself, but I guess if I had a Top who really wanted me to wear one, I could endure it for a while). I have fried the shit out of some guys like they were Floridian death-row execution victims.
The cattle prod, though, is different.
Besides the psychological terror aspect, it’s mostly harmless and as long as it’s functioning properly, it’s not going to burn you. That said, livestock hates it for a reason, and a human being is much smaller than a pig or a cow…and without the protective thick hide and fur, either.
He started zapping my feet with it, and I confirmed what it was right away: it makes an evil little sparky noise and the pain, which lasts less than a second, is shocking (ha, ha!) and deeply unpleasant.
I tried to be a good sport and put up with it, and I’m sure my wiggling and toe-curling and teeth-clenching were entertaining to him, but my anxiety was compounded by the fact that he wasn’t communicating anything and I was concerning he was going to start using it on my genitals or my breasts or, God forbid, my head. I had a blindfold on, so I couldn’t see where it was coming.
I begged him to stop and he did, so I guess it wasn’t quite a safe-out, and I guess it was my fault for putting up with it for so long, but I was a little pissed that he’d sprung such a serious implement on me without discussing it beforehand.
I also made it quite clear, in as non-confrontational a way as I could, that the cattle prod was not something I enjoyed or could even tolerate for more than one or two zaps and that it detracted from my sexy mood.
I didn’t really feel like it anymore, but I went through with the session and it was okay after that.
I thought that the cattle prod would be immediately retired to the Box of “Wish-I-Hadn’t-Wasted-the-Money” tools.
(You can see where this is going now, can’t you? I’m sure you can.)
Well, the next evening he wanted to put me in the crate while we watched an episode of Frontline PBS he wanted to see. Okay, that’s fun, I like Frontline (though it wouldn’t matter if I didn’t) and he always gives me water and a snack or a Diet Coke while I’m locked in there.
Halfway through, he gets up to leave the room (I thought he was just going to use the restroom or something)…and he comes back with the goddamned cattle prod!
“What do you want that thing for?” I asked, trying to keep calm. As if I didn’t already know.
He turned it on.
“Collector, this isn’t funny. You know I don’t like that thing.”
Then he started brandishing it like he was going to zap me with it. I drew back, as much as I was able, and told him to please knock it off and don’t hit me with it.
Then he ACTUALLY DID IT, and pandemonium broke lose: I went nuts.
I almost never lose my cool and I almost never cry or scream, but I did then. The cattle prod scared me. And it was more than that: he was acting in a very strange and threatening way, and I was in a vulnerable position in an enclosed space where I couldn’t get away or even try to protect myself besides covering my head with my arms.
Once I tried to grab it and pull it out of his hands, but I couldn’t get any leverage in the cage because of the bars and the fact that I couldn’t draw my elbows back and couldn’t control it.
“Don’t wiggle around so much. I wouldn’t want to miss and hit the wrong place,” he laughed like it was a joke.
“FUCK YOUUU!” I screamed, and started kicking the door as hard as I could. Which wasn’t very, because I couldn’t pull my legs all the way back to really hit it hard. Frankly, I don’t think it would have mattered. It’s a heavy piece of furniture.
He stopped zapping me and watched.
“Let me out NOW!” I screamed. I was flaying around so hard that I knocked over the cage while I was still in it. I rocked it over onto its side.
Then he finally let me out and I ran to a bedroom with good locks on the door and cried some more. My bare feet and shins hurt from kicking on the wood and wire.
Emotionally, I was…extremely distressed.
Then, get this: about half an hour later, he came by and rapped softly on the door and asked if he could talk to me.
“Go away! I don’t want to talk to you!”
Then he started jabbing the cattle prod under the door like he was trying to zap my feet!
I screamed and jumped in the bed.
I stayed in there all night. He didn’t bother me anymore. In the morning, before he left for work, he knocked and asked me if I was still pouting and said that he was sorry and he wouldn’t do it again.
I got my stuff and Abe and booked a flight out of there using his Frequent Flyer miles.
Cattle prod needs to go and I am NEVER getting in that cage again. He ruined it.