My sadistic nature sometimes lacks ethics.
More than when I inflict pain on the body, it is when I dominate the mind that I become truly cruel.
I crave that in-between state — neither spared nor destroyed.
I like the look on a masochist’s face when their cherished feelings are crumpled up like paper with a deep crease pressed into them—
when the affection they turned toward me is trampled underfoot.
And there are countless methods to arrive at that point.
Come to think of it, this tendency has always existed in me, even before I began practicing SM in earnest.
I still cannot forget the final session I had with a masochist who was about to get married.
Even further back, when I was a student, there were moments in my romantic relationships when I would deliberately create a subtle unease in my partner’s heart.
I normally uphold punctuality, order, and society’s rules.
And yet, at times, I feel an irresistible urge to inflict psychological torment that strays beyond what is considered “right.”
Perhaps it is because I want them to remember me even when we are apart—
to suffer with longing while aroused, thinking of me.
I want them to struggle, sensing my presence even in the extension of their ordinary daily lives.
Of course, this is not something I can do with every masochist.
But when a masochist reaches the point of thinking,
“I wouldn’t mind being destroyed by this person,”
only then do I feel the urge to loosen the restraints of my own ethics and trample them completely.
Hibari