Relaxed, Unembarrassed Sadism

I would like to do some research. My manual is perhaps 90% complete now. I have just finished a small section and I wondered if you wonderful blog readers agree with the content. If I have got it wrong I would like to know. It is to do with the affect on the submissive of the style of sadism the dominant might employ.


………..Maximising the affect of sadism for the submissive

I have mentioned that I think this is all about the power; but not just for the dominant. As I mentioned in the prologue, the true submissive can only be genuinely content, and sleep with real peace and tranquillity, if they feel they are helplessly in the power of another and what could more clearly demonstrate to them that they are helplessly in the power of their dominant, than suffering physical discomfort and pain simply for the pleasure of their dominant.

Because of my behaviour and what I have witnessed when other women have inflicted their sadism on my husband, I believe the power involved can be further demonstrated to the submissive if the dominant demonstrates that they are utterly relaxed and enjoying themselves. I consider this can be achieved by the following things I do or have seen other sadistic women do.

  • I often make a cup of coffee or pour myself a glass of wine before I begin a torment session. Once I have begun the session, I can sense the feeling of helplessness and, I think awe, when I pause and my husband sees, or hears, me break off from my fun for a moment to take a leisurely sip of wine or coffee. (When blindfolded, he notices the pause and he hears the mug or glass being put back down on the marble topped nightstand).
  • I have witnessed another woman humming contentedly to herself while applying a nasty thick coating of embrocation cream to my husband’s cock.
  • With Governess Lexi, I have engaged in a relaxed conversation about a forthcoming holiday while I was preparing a stinging nettle pouch and she was slowly tipping from a jug neat urine into my husband’s funnel gag.
  • I mentioned earlier in the manual one acquaintance of mine who used to tie up and genitally torture her first boyfriend when she was just fourteen! Visiting me when she was 21, (detailed in Volume 10 of my journals) I witnessed her, a very serious sadist, inflicting an inner thigh whipping to my husband with a dressage whip. I mention it now because despite the activity being so excessive, she showed zero embarrassment or inhibition over her desire to inflict pain for her pleasure.
  • And to continue, she was completely calm. There was a full second, perhaps two seconds, between each stroke. A couple of times my sobbing husband began to close his thighs together so as to halt the pain onslaught. Ignoring his sobbing, and in the calmest and most patient voice you could imagine, she would instruct him to reopen wide his thighs. Then she would continue the whipping.
  • When I have my husband sobbing with ongoing pain, I often pause, calmly tell my husband how much making him suffer so much arouses me and then I use a massager to give myself a loud orgasm. Once I have recovered, I return to torturing him.  

So to summarise, I think displaying the following mind-set components of the dominant during torment, increases the affect on the submissive and causes them to feel even more in awe of the dominant.

  • Utterly relaxed – humming, sipping from a glass of wine, etc,
  • Calm with voice and demeanour, 
  • Unembarrassed about being a sadist,
  • Unembarrassed about becoming sexually aroused by sadism,
  • Unhurried and taking one’s time.

I will finish this piece, (to ensure you avoid working against the advice I have just given in the preceding paragraphs), with a very brief reminder of the essence of Top Tip 4, I mentioned previously in the manual; do not appear to find something only funny. Make sure your submissive knows you are getting sadistic pleasure too, even if it is funny.

Now we move onto techniques for inflicting physical discomfort and pain……………

Please note that the hyperlink to Volume 10 is just for blog readers and there is no hyperlink in my manual.


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19 Responses to Relaxed, Unembarrassed Sadism

  1. sillymaid says:

    The casual application of pain and discomfort whilst distracted by other more interesting going ons, is more humiliating as being submissive. The don’t really care, I’m not interested, just doing it ‘cos you are there and I can, rather than showing any emotional attachment to proceedings is very belittling….

  2. Frank says:

    I have just completed a 7-day Session with a young (30s) German Dominant. We negotiated Limits and taboos beforehand but she belongs to the ‘No Safe Words, No Early Release’ school of Dommes once a session has actually started. She also made it quite clear that she doesn’t tick off a slave’s or sub’s bucket list. She does exactly as She feels like (but within his Hard Limits). Her philosophy was the type of experience I’d been looking for at an affordable price for ages.
    From the moment we started emailing, her manner was very professional, and very dominant, especially as she’s 25 years younger than me and English isn’t her first language. To support Mistress Scarlet’s first point, this lady was utterly unembarrassed about being a Sadist and becoming sexually aroused by SM. Unlike the majority of professional Dommes, she holds out the prospect of limited sexual contact during a session, but entirely on her terms. You can’t pay extra for it.
    I’d completed a whole list of ‘activities’ and divided them into three; my bucket list of things I enjoyed and/or had experience of, those I regarded as soft limits and had never experienced, and my hard limits. She was open about the fact that exploring a person’s soft limits excited her most. Those things people have never tried before.
    The week’s session (168 hrs exactly, from a Saturday evening to a Saturday evening) was brutal, painful and extremely humiliating. It was also thrilling and worth every Euro. I am returning next Summer for two weeks. But this comment here is limited to my observations on howthis young lady maximized the psychological effect of her sadism on me:
    Above all, she was in control throughout. From the moment we had a ‘cold start’ on my arrival, to the minute she announced it was over, she never hesitated, never once showed any doubt. Her gender and our age gap were irrelevant. Decisions were hers. Power was hers. I’d paid her upfront and the cash had been banked but it wasn’t about money. I was no longer a paying client with customer rights to satisfaction. I was her prisoner, her slave, her victim. The times she visibly enjoyed most were the times I found hardest; when I gagged on what I was eating, when my eyes were full of tears, when I blushed crimson and shook with shame, when I couldn’t suppress my whimpers and bellows of pain.
    Her looks are dark and gothic, with piercings and tattoos, not at all ‘a sexy, cliche Domina’. She didn’t once smile in a normal, friendly way. But she laughed a lot when she was enjoying herself. Not manic laughter but wicked, smirking snorts. I’d asked her to control my food and liquid intake for a week and to use her imagination to make it unpleasant (but safe to eat). This was a ‘first time’ for her – in terms of my fetish – and it greatly amused her. She loved predicament D/s; where a slave has to do something they don’t want to do, to avoid something even worse.
    To endorse, Miss Scarlet’s point about a calm voice and demeanor, I’d say this affected me greatly. This lady was the total opposite of the shouty, abusive kind of Domme portrayed on porn sites. She expected to be obeyed without having to raise her voice. I was given numerous tasks and chores during the week. She didn’t shout at me in English if I failed to complete them to her satisfaction. She’d taught me a few words of German and spoke to me calmly in her language. First I had to remedy the failed task or chore, then submit to my punishments. She never showed mercy, never backtracked. All I could do was stop her adding even more punishments to the retribution.
    She never showed the slightest embarrassment about what she enjoyed. For example, she was ‘into’ toilet activities, such as bladder and bowel management and restrictions, as well as recycling her own urine. The only hard Limit I’d insisted on beforehand was full scat. Throughout the week, she had zero qualms about pushing me in every other respect but ‘force-fed’ scat, even though I’d told her upfront that although ‘dirty games’ (as she called them) weren’t a limit for me, they wouldn’t be a turn-on for me either. She watched me on the toilet every visit I made and supervised my evacuations, making it harder and harder to comply. She smirked throughout, without any shame about her own kinks.
    She didn’t take drugs or drink alcohol and made it clear that I would also be following a teetotal regime for the week. So she didn’t relax with a glass of wine but she smoked with coffee and during the evenings. I’m of a generation that tolerates tobacco smoke but it was indeed, effective, as she sat back, smoked and relaxed, while I suffered.
    One other thing was her intellectual fascination with many of the things we did. It was like to her I was just a rat being experimented on. Her dark eyes would study mine, gauging my reactions, weak points, limits, whatever. Although she’d plenty of experience and clearly known numerous other subs, she treated each one as a separate project. On the one hand, this was very positive and made me feel I was getting ‘value for money’. But on the other hand it was rather disconcerting. I was something for her to experiment on, learn from, and that’s all. Perhaps it was really her own reactions more than mine she was interested in? She’d no interest in working out why she was a sadist, but she was fascinated in what aspects of SM most appealed to her, most turned her on.
    Throughout the week, I masturbated and edged myself for her many times but she never once allowed me to cum. Even at the end. I spent my final Saturday night in her city in a hotel and finished myself there, although I was too emotionally and physically drained to enjoy it. But she certainly masturbated herself plenty during the week, although the closest I got to assisting her was kissing her feet and bottom. Much as I’d have liked more sexual contact I think, with hindsight, she got the balance right. My suffering was part of her pleasure but she didn’t need me to play a more meaningful role.
    I should end by saying that I’m not a sissy-wimp type sub and so my thoughts and reactions won’t be the same as all readers here.

    • Thank you for the great comment. I would love to know the name of the German Dominant and whether she has a website.

      I would also love more detail, as I think would my blog followers! Particularly on the times you found hardest; when you gagged on what you were eating, when your eyes were full of tears, when you blushed crimson and shook with shame, when you couldn’t suppress your whimpers and bellows of pain.

      • Frank says:

        Thank you for your response. My broadband has been playing up. I have emailed to ask if she would mind me giving Her name out on another site.

        Having my food and liquid intake controlled was a big fetish of mine, but of the ‘careful what you wish for’ variety. The only limits we’d agreed were nothing intended to make me ill (as opposed to feeling a need to vomit) and scat. She made me give her a long list beforehand of my likes and dislikes, including taste, texture, smell and appearance. German cuisine isn’t the best in my opinion and it’s well suited to pushing a slave’s boundaries. She was interested in my fetish (it was new to her) and explored it in great detail over the week. She fed me two meals a day; the same breakfast every morning, which was a very spicy, glutinous, imitation dog food curry she concocted herself. The dread every morning knowing I’d have to fill myself with this same stuff was awful. The portions got bigger every day (she started me off on a strict diet so I became increasingly hungry). My eyes filled with tears from the hot spices as well as the constant gagging. But she was pitiless, sipping her own coffee while I ate from a steel bowl at her feet. My evening ‘meal’ was different every day, and served later and later at night, as I got hungrier and hence less fussy during the week. This was dread of a different type; the unknown. She pulverized the contents in a liquidizer and I had no idea what was in the served mush. Usually one ingredient like used coffee dregs, prunes, giblets, fish skin was overpowering. I could always detect piss which she used instead of water or any other liquid as the liquid base. One time she made a solid, dry cake (her version of prison loaf) but every other meal was more like a thick, gelatinous smoothie.

        Looking up with eyes full of tears while she surveyed me calmly left an incredible impression. Every meal had to be eaten until the steel bowl was shining. Sometimes I’d bite on a hair or toenail and she’d grin. My fetish wasn’t hers but she could still derive sadistic pleasure from it. All she wanted was to make things as hard for me as possible. That turned her on sexually.

        I’m not into sissy style humiliation at all. No pink aprons or frilly underwear (although they’re harmless and so wouldn’t have been a hard limit for me). However, she did insist on adult diapers and a steel chastity device, as she’s very into 24/7 toilet and erection control. She used my diet to make it harder and harder for me to comply with her strict toilet regime, giving her excuses to punish me. The first time I filled a diaper with a bowel movement (on the morning of Day 3) was humiliating and uncomfortable. But she was delighted. I was on the floor sorting a huge pile of colored beads into their 6 different colours. She’d said I could use the toilet once the task was finished. I never had a chance although I held out as long as possible. I then spent over 3 hours with a dirty diaper until the task was finished. She occasionally caned my padded bottom mashing the soggy mess into my buttocks and groin.

        It was at times like this that our age difference seemed maximized. She’s in her early 30s and I’m old enough to be her dad. But a reverse reality applied to us. What had turned me on beforehand (her age) actually made the humiliation even more extreme than it would have been with an older Domme. Her manner wasn’t exactly maternal but it was like a strict young schoolmistress, and I was the naughty schoolboy having an accident in class. I found it pretty easy to pee in front of her, even in my chastity device, although she enjoyed making me wait and hop up and down before I could go. But defecating was something else entirely. She’d make me squat astride the toilet, without my legs touching ‘her’ seat, while she stood in the doorway, or latterly pulled up a stool to watch me close up. My diet made my guts hard to control. She insisted I look into her eyes and await her instruction. I blushed bright red and hyperventilated. She ordered me to go silently, no grunts or especially farts. She’d say “now, just one little one” in her accented English. I’d often whimper and try to obey, but it was impossible. The gas and soft matter tumbled out of me in a cacophony of shame. I usually managed to clench my buttocks and stop partway, but never to her satisfaction. The whole humiliating routine could last 15 minutes. Twice a day I took cold showers under her supervision. I’d come out gasping and shivering with my cock well and truly diminished.

        One of the best things about this Domme was her intuition about punishments. I’m not really into impact-style pain; canes, crops or whips. Although she did give me two quite fierce bouts of CP on my buttocks during the week, she was keener to explore alternatives. She likes to punish without using bondage, so her victims have to exercise tremendous self control and willpower. On my first evening, I stood in front of her, feet apart and hands behind my back, totally naked, while she was dressed in jogging pants and top, and slippers. Most portrayals of CFNM show the female in sexy fetish gear. But she was dressed for herself, not for me. She removed my chastity tube and explored my cock and balls like a housewife shopping at a fruit stall. I was too nervous to erect easily but eventually she got me hard. I’m not circumsized which intrigued her. She pulled my foreskin back and let it become dry and sensitive. Then she produced a pair of steel tweezers. Slowly, methodically, she plucked my pubic hairs out one at a time. It wasn’t overly painful but she had a way of doing it so that it hurt enough to make me wince. She tut-tutted and told me to smile. I had to grin and bear it, as she removed the hairs from my groin and scrotum one by one. It took her well over an hour. She smoked a couple of cigarettes while she did it, teasing me with the glowing tip near to my cockhead and balls. It was incredibly hard not to move or change my expression.

        The next morning she shaved my groin, ass and inner thighs completely bald. Again, it maximized our age difference; her, an aloof female adult, and me with a hairless cock like a kid’s, locked up and shriveled. Her favorite ‘activity’ (as she innocently labeled whatever she did) was predicament choices; she’d tell me to do something and threaten me with something else if I didn’t do what she’d said. Because I’d answered her detailed questionnaire honestly, she had an exact understanding of what I liked (she called ‘funishments’, even if they weren’t funny) and what I didn’t enjoy at all, but would try and tolerate. Of course, most activities are a question of degree; 10 strokes okay, 100 strokes, no.

        Her sadism manifested itself in going a bit too far, but not so far it was intolerable. Her eyes are mesmeric, dark and cruel, but intelligent. It sounds silly but I started thinking of them as speedometers on a car dashboard. They’d widen with interest as she accelerated some activity then squint, as she hovered around the red zone, studying me. During the week I became more and more exhausted and found it hard to concentrate. I’d told her about my sensitivity to caffeine at night and my desire to explore sleep deprivation. Stuffed full of coffee dregs and in discomfort, I slept fitfully for just a few hours a night. But the tasks she gave me each day required more and more concentration. Doing her washing and ironing while she watched me for speed and perfection was impossible. I imagine it was like taking a penalty in front of a full Wembley rather than in some park on a Sunday kickabout. She loved her casual, effortless power. Much of the time she’d do something else, on her tablet or phone, or reading. Then she’d sidle over and observe me. By the second Day I’d realized the difference between the fantasy of drinking her piss, and the reality. She stored her pee in plastic jugs throughout the whole week and never wasted a drop. I’d be ironing and I’d hear her in her bathroom hissing out a bladder full. She reappeared with a full jug of frothy urine and placed it threateningly on the kitchen block. Sometimes she’d spit and pick her nose into it too. Then she’d start to thumb through my pile of finished ironing, looking for the slightest crease. Or she’d walk behind me and peer over my shoulder, making my hand tremble. Where she was diabolically clever is that the result wasn’t inevitable. If I did a perfect job, to her satisfaction at least, she’d pour me a glass of tap water to drink instead. She was aware that if I knew that drinking her piss was unavoidable, there was no tension in ‘the game’. When we discussed the week as equals (more or less) at the end, we both agreed that it was ultimately a battle between us, or perhaps even a game of poker? She held all the cards and I held none, but I could still bluff and even win the occasional hand if she let me.


        • Fascinating. Thank you.

        • FootSlaveE says:

          Wow! Incredible. I’d love to hear even more, like a “day-by-day” account. Sounds like my dream slavery. Love her style. Hopefully she’ll agree to allow you to post her website.

          • Frank says:

            It would take way too long to post a day-by-day account and I wouldn’t want to clog up Ms Scarlet’s blog more than I already have. But one final point is relevant to the original Relaxed Unembarrassed Sadism post. It’s the cranking up of my ordeal throughout the week. We’d negotiated a session of exactly 168 hours (7 x 24 hrs), not a minute more, or less, without any Safe Words or chance of Early Release. Although she’d told me upfront that she never simply carried out a slave’s bucket list and everything was spontaneous, I found out at the end that she had actually formulated a rough plan. The reason for this was not to ‘play all her aces’ too early. This meant that my dread of what was coming built up constantly, my fear of what was yet to occur. She never gave me reason to doubt she’d respect my taboos and limits. But within the first 24-48 hours I certainly soon regretted not being clearer about (i) things that hadn’t occurred to me at all beforehand and (ii) the degrees to which I could tolerate certain things. Her pleasure didn’t come from indulging me in what she knew I wanted. A true sadist only gets a kick from giving what I soon discovered I didn’t want. With hindsight, that dynamic was what made the week so incredible. I was taken to places that only true slavery can take you. Instead of it being about my kink it became about hers. And in that way we both ultimately got ‘satisfaction’, even if I didn’t always think so at the time.

            By the end of the week, my humiliation and obedience couldn’t have reached higher levels without becoming intolerable. What I found hard on Days 1 and 2 were somewhat normal by Days 5 and 6. And what I could stomach at the end would have been too much at the start. In that way I was indeed ‘trained’, which is actually what I’d asked for, albeit without realizing the journey it would take me on. But my Mistress had been fully aware and planned accordingly. Although she’s a Pro in the sense it’s her job, what makes her exceptional, is that she’s doing it for her enjoyment as well. Training men to obey her to dance to Her tune, not theirs, is what turns her on. She was utterly unembarrassed about this. Most pro-dommes apparently hide their sexual pleasure (if they actually feel it at all). But she was entirely open about hers. She put a hood or blindfold on me so I couldn’t see when she masturbated herself, but she never hid the fact from me. I’d listen and hear her. When she unlocked me at shower-time and told me to edge my cock for her, the unspoken contrast between her releases and my frustration underlined our arrangement in a very sexual way. I can only imagine that in a Wife/husband relationship, the same feelings would apply, only more so.

        • sara elise says:

          Frank – Thank you. What a fascinating read, and time! Love the way She controlled you, down you your dirty diaper even.

  3. y_e_s_m says:

    When the amount of effort, care and attention of the sadist is at minimum and the amount of pain or discomfort of the slave at maximum (i.e, the Mistress very casual or uninterested and the slave truly suffering) the greater the juxtaposition of the situation, so yes Mistress Scarlet, very true if my humble opinion is worth anything.
    This then also allows for situations whereby a Mistress can decide to switch Her style and inform the slave that the next phase of punishment will or could get worse even, if the Mistress were to increase interest or effort in a punishment to really frighten Her slave.
    This slave has to admit to having read such similar occasions to this already in Your journals Mistress Scarlet.

  4. Chris says:

    From my own personal perspective, I think you are spot on in what you have written here.

    The little breaks in proceedings while my Wife takes a pause are often a welcome relief from whatever physical ministration I am being subject to. However, if she moves out of my sensory range (however artificially limited that may be), this in turn can then induce a form of separation anxiety leaving me wondering how long I have to wait before she will return (whilst usually still in a lot of discomfort).

    I also think that demeanour and method of communication are vitally important, I could never submit to an ‘angry screamer’; but stand me in front of an intelligent and confident woman and I go weak at the knees. My Wife is extremely skilled at psycho-drama, she never hurries or raises her voice, she never uses foul language or name calling, I am always treat as an intelligent, thinking and feeling person, but also a person at that moment in time who exists only for my Wife’s pleasure.

  5. Derek says:

    I agree totally. My wife used to sing quietly as she liberally coated my penis with an embrocation stick. Round and round and up and down.

  6. Ron says:

    You are spot on here as always. I get the greatest pleasure from seeing Ma’am use me for her amusement. Pain and suffering quickly become gifts when she similes and laughs, or paused to admire her handiwork. A source of intense pleasure always and for certain.

  7. sissy jamieanne says:

    I think you have a gem here, Mistress Scartlett! I’ve had the pleasure and privilege of reading most of your blog entries as well as your journals, and this is true to Mistress Scarlett! You have a unique way that makes you quite special…Your relaxed sadism and calm demeanor in the presence of bitch boy’s suffering are trademarks of your style. It is this special “Mistress Scarlett brand” that makes you stand out…that I’m sure makes bb in awe of you…as well as myself…


    sissy jamieanne

  8. Alan A. Deschannel says:

    Mistress Scarlet … all of these behaviors and techniques mentioned above are, I think, wonderful ways to accomplish Your goals and enjoy Yourself. As a former slave/sub husband (She moved on to a wealthier male), the greatest humiliation came when i lost any and all way to access money. My pay went directly to Her personal accounts. i had no savings. i was given an allowance on a DAILY basis, told what i may spend it on and only if necessary. Every penny was accounted for at all times.

    It was the realization that i was truly trapped, albeit my initial choice, under Her power with absolutely no way out even if i wanted one. i had no power whatsoever, none, except what She or Her designate granted me. Though at first it churned inside me, i came to both love and need it. Co-workers would ask me to join them for drink after work, and i was always not allowed. When they pressed me on this, i was told by my Wife to tell them “i didn’t have Her permission to go out with them”. It was truly, and deeply, humiliating … and it spread around the company like wildfire. Literally, i was laughed at both publicly and privately. One gay man was kind to me, saying he understood my lifestyle. My Wife said She would consider allowing me to go for one drink after work with him. That was months ago – She is still considering.

    Obviously, each day of work bore its own humiliation. When She divorced me, i moved away with the little i had and found work elsewhere. i am currently living with a gay couple while i examine what to do next. Still, my training remains embedded and i am submissive to them both as well, in part, to pay for my room and board, but also because i can not live without it.

    Alan A. Deschannel (often just called “Alana”)

  9. Ade says:

    Dear Mistress Scarlett

    I very much agree with what you said here. Thing i find very humbling is being forced to be subservient to someone i don’t like or maybe even hate. Its not limited to people, things too. For example i have a pretty significant shoe fetish. I like lots and lots of beautiful shoes. but if i was told to worship some kind of not exactly pretty or even hideous, i would feel very dominated.

    Another thing that i could think of is the internal fight, when it would be so easy to disobey and there would be most probably no consequences for doing so. The thoughts of how easy it is, but Mistress said otherwise. I like the feeling, when i get through everything, i did not exactly have to go through, because nobody was watching.

    I hope this will be worth something.

    Your humble fan,

  10. nonce says:

    For me, the most important thing has always been that dominant is aroused by the infliction of pain (as you mentioned). But while I love the frightening calm of a relaxed sadist, there is something incredibly powerful about its greedier expressions. Particularly when my mistress is close to orgasm, she will often be much more aggressive and predatory in her application of pain, and seeing her face transform in these moments is stunning, scary, and intensely beautiful. The wide eyes, lips snarled, something with all the violent force of anger but not anger itself, the sense that in that moment, she looks like she wants nothing more than to tear you apart. I doubt that headspace can be sustained for long durations, but when it comes out, I know she is completely filled with power and dark desire. It is those moments that most fill me with awe, that burn themselves unforgettably into memory.

  11. sara elise says:

    hank you for Your post. The taking Your time and sipping wine, etc. always just *gets* me. We had never heard of embrocation cream, so thanks there, too!

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