[Insert Clever Title Here]

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First up: Young Ozzy!

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Judging by their profiles and postings, many people in The Cage seem to be disappointed, disgusted and even angry with the Israeli BDSM scene.

Not me.

I find most Israeli BDSM parties great fun.

I love the vibe, the outfits and the people. To me, it’s a wicked wonderland, and I’m Alice – assuming Alice were a bald, 36-year-old man in leather pants!

However, I just can’t get a session.

I feel awkward asking female friends to do something naughty and equally silly prostrating myself before a stranger (or grabbing her by the scruff of the neck).

Chatting on the site and building rapport offers a solution to this dilemma – well, in theory. E-people can drop off, get skittish or simply change their minds.

Last night, I scheduled to meet up with a feisty little domme for a quasi-session, i.e. let’s dance for a bit; you do this painful thing to me, and then we part company.

But when we met up, she blew me off.

I felt frustrated and moped around for a bit while a certain vinyl-clad painslut tried to cheer me up. It helped a little.

Then, today, apropos of nothing, my flatmate popped her head into my room and said, “Whoa, Screwdriver, you look really cute in those glasses.”

I am still smiling.

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I have viewed quite a bit of BDSM pornography in my lifetime. Yet I still get the willies when stumbling across maledom drawings or cartoons.

It’s strange, really.

I don’t mind seeing a real man truss up, tease and spank a real woman, yet maledom cartoons – they seem so brutal, so mean-spirited.

Hardly E. Edward Grey sort of stuff.

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Were Anais Nin alive today, she’d undoubtedly have a blog. After all, this was the saucy, self-involved French author who once declared of her journal, “This diary is my kief [כיף], hashish, and opium pipe. This is my drug and my vice.”

Alas, she died in 1977 – when the internet was but a tiny, super-secret US military project (or just baby test tubes, depending on you ask). Still, I’d like to imagine her blog posts. What bits of fiction would she contribute to this site?

Perhaps she’d post a selection from her book of erotica “Delta of Venus.” Here, I’m thinking of her BDSM-themed story “Marcel,” in which the main character – who is only referred to in the first person – is having a go with her lover Marcel.

Marcel is a submissive, we find out. When he takes the main character back to his bedroom and lays her on the fur rug, he says, “For the first time, a real woman. So many have come here, but for the first time here is a real woman, someone I can worship.”

Later, the woman entertains his submissive fantasies, appearing before him in nothing but a pair of black boots and ordering to do “humiliating things.” As the piece de resistance, she demands that he fetch her another man, whom she’ll bed in front of Marcel.

Marcel protests at first but then relents and suffers throughout the ordeal. When the satisfied man finally leaves, Marcel turns to his mistress with recriminations: “That was cruel. You know that I love you. That was cruel.”

“But it made you passionate, didn’t it, it made you passionate,” she responds.

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The Velvet Underground song referencing Leopold von Sacher-Masoch's famous novel:

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What happens when an English nobleman eyes the girl of his dreams? Well, egotistical, sexually rapacious beast that he is, the lord plots to rape the little angel, while driving her faithful young lover into poverty.

Welcome to Marquis de Sade’s world.

In the short story “Miss Henrietta Stralson,” we are introduced to Lord Granwell, a 36-year-old misogynist who uses women – many, many women – to satisfy his own ego, and to her misfortune, the stunning Henrietta Stralson has entered his field of vision.

Granwell is immediately smitten with the 17-year-old beauty and will stop at nothing to possess her. He does not care that she already has a fiance named William; the latter is just one more obstacle to be overcome with money, lies and treachery.

However, Henrietta soon uncovers Granwell’s foul intentions and does her best to outfox him.

All the ensuing tricks and evasions come to a violent climax at an isolated castle on the Scottish border. There, Lord Granwell murders William. Henrietta then kills Granwell and commits suicide next to the body of her lover. No one lives happily ever after.