Don’t Drink the Kool-Aid

A cautionary tale about why it's important to be on the lookout for red flags.

Don’t Drink the Kool-Aid

Trigger Warning in advance, this is NOT for the faint of heart and this is honestly going to read like a crossover of a kinky Creepypasta or a fucking TWISTED subreddit. I have stated time and time and again that I shalt not kink-shame however as I grow older, and hopefully wiser, some things I believe, should probably be left to the darkest corners of the imagination.

On a recent trip in the holy land of kink and exploration, Berlin, I 'innocently' stumbled into a situation where the fetish was truly Sinister!

Having my profile active, going, and running on the apps, one tap in particular - at 6 PM on a Wednesday - put me in an encounter that was pretty damn dangerous, to say the fucking least.

I feel as though a good chunk of my more brow-raising sexcapades are products of the AppStore, but I promise - I am actually social and interact, mingle, and canoodle with other potential mates irl and, to be fair, I have intense sex for a living.

It’s just that recorded and filmed play and pleasure - as fun as it often is - can and often is pretty safe and predictable. It’s meeting complete strangers and potential axe murderers online that gives me something to actually live for - that let's me actually feel something.

The Wednesday 6 PM blank profile gave an intro, an outro, followed by four pics. The pitch: €500 to tie him to his table and dominate him - just slapping and whipping, no actual penetration required. Fucking easy!

With years of on-camera and off-camera experience at both ends of the BDSM spectrum, I can play up the dom thing - not even having to whip my dick out was an added bonus.

As Master and Commander, I set our 'date' for 9 PM post-gym, to which he obeyed.

The gentleman also offered €100 - just in case we didn't get along or if we weren't feeling the encounter, which seemed pretty fair.

I went about my next couple hours of pump preparing for the scheduled verbal and sadistic dump. I texted him at 8:45 that I was heading over and en route.

On my way to the mystery sub, we texted a bit during the trip. He asked about more of my kinks as a dom and willingness to engage in certain acts - specifically sounding and needle play. In this context, needle play isn't drug-related, it's temporary piercings. Having done both sounding and needle play, I confirmed that I was more than fine to inflict consensual pain for his pleasure.

Soon enough, I arrived at the address - a luxury building - and was buzzed up to the penthouse floor.

Upon entering the lavish flat, I was greeted by not the guy in the pics but by an equally average-looking guy - he seemed to be about 20 years old whereas I'd been expecting someone in their 50s.

We shook hands - he seemed nervous and anxious, almost a bit giddy.

We sat at the table to chat - he offered me a glass of water, which I declined. We talked a bit about the weather.

After no more than three minutes, he announced that he had to cancel what we had planned. He explained that he had a date and asked if we could do all we had set out to do the following night. He assured me that he was very serious and really wanted to have the night that he'd planned, just not this night. He asked to exchange numbers, gave me the consolation €100, and just like that I was back outside of the building of the luxury high-rise.

As I was walking away from the building, I got a text - it was him. He asked how “brutal” I could be. I assumed he meant with roughness, strength, and force. I responded - "very".

It seems he had other things in mind. He texted - "blood and slaughter?"

I got a slight chill but I was also curious. Surely this was still just innocent sex games.

“Slaughter what?” I replied.

"An animal..." was his response.

It was a warm night in Berlin but suddenly I was freezing. But I was also curious. I asked how much he was willing to pay, he came back with €2K.

You can judge me for this, but if it were €2K for killing, I don't know, a chicken? I could maybe justify it. I'd probably have to bury it deep in Pandora’s Box post-act, but since I feast on every part of a chicken multiple days a week, it wouldn't be the worst things in the world, would it?

I messaged him: "What animal?"

"A dog..." was his response.

I was sick to my stomach and to my core! The only response I could manage was quite simply, “I can’t do it”.

Ten minutes had passed after the rapid-fire, truly horrifying text exchange, when he sent another message. He complimented my appearance, something along the lines of that he could see that I could never commit such act with the way in which I take care of myself. I had no response and I left that on read.

I never heard from him again - even though he had said he wanted to go ahead with our power-play date the day after he'd cancelled.

I hashed out the whole scenario over a FaceTime kiki session with my besties. Though I was squeamish about the questions he asked after I'd left his apartment, I was still fairly indifferent and chalked up the whole thing as a very fucked up sex fantasy.

It wasn’t until one factor was brought up that I truly began to feel the gravity of the entire strange night. It was after refusing the water that he cancelled - he cancelled within a minute after I'd refused the drink he'd offered me. The whole thing began to feel more and more like a Dahmer doc.

My girlfriends also asked what I was wearing to said encounter. They know me well and know that I'm no stranger to showing up to anonymous hookups in full lewks and regalia. However, given that I'd gone to his apartment straight from the gym, I was actually in my gym gear - serving full Trade.

I'd turned up showing off my assets in my masc4masc tank and shorts, sporting a fuck-boy cap. My friends pointed out that it would have been clear to American Psycho that I had the physical advantage - that if I was 'sober' then he'd be no match for me.

Hilariously, I didn't refuse the water because I felt the man was a creep or because I was being cautious - I'd had an anonymous hookup the night prior and happily accepted the stranger's water. This particular time, I just was not thirsty. That’s what saved my life.

Sure, I could possibly be blowing things out of proportion or it could be speculative but - with the turn of events - every part of my dark soul screams that I wouldn’t be here had I accepted that glass of water. I likely would have been in a freezer.

Perhaps that’s how he affords his glamorous lifestyle - selling foreigners as produce and product. Kindliness is completely fine, pain as well, but when we move into the territory of actual harm and non-consent, that is not cool, sexy, or humane.

Even if I weren’t on the menu and it truly was a dog, that still doesn’t make matters any better. Animal cruelty is NOT kinky or sexy - sorry NOT sorry.

I can only hope and speculate but words from the wise on the other side - and NOT yet on the eternal other side - watch out for any and all red flags. If your spider-sense tingles even the slightest, trust it!

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