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I love to see a man tremble. Nothing big or dramatic, just that very slight, very intense tremor that comes with a complete loss of power, a complete loss of will. Trembling is very exciting to me, because it confirms what I already know. That man is mine.
And why is that, man mine? Did I scream at him? Did I lash him with a leather whip? Did I force him to his knees and apply ropes, stinging ointments or sandpaper to break his will? Don’t get me wrong, these are delicious methods and I applaud those who use them. I have used them myself on more than one occasion.
But as I have matured, I have developed methods which are more, shall we say *quiet* yet are so much more forceful.
I rarely raise my voice. I don’t need to. My calm, soothing style is reinforced by heavy steel. Do not forget it.
When I capture my prey, he doesn’t escape. He does my bidding. And he trembles.