I don’t know if you’ve ever browsed Craigslist’s listing for jobs, services and events, but it’s overwhelmingly men requesting naked cleaners, or products which despite their descriptions are transparently drugs. A lot of ads by people who use ‘females’ as a noun, which always seems like a red flag. I look around once in a while to see if there are one-off jobs, creative opportunities or suchlike.

One time I applied for a request from a local dominatrix who needed a photographer for a photoshoot. I’m handy with a camera, and I know how to keep my hands to myself, so I figured I was remarkable well-suited to the post. I was rather daunted by the prosepect - but I figured it was good to attempt creative works that went outside my comfort zone. I travelled with a fluttering heart of fear as I did the first time I’ve gone into unfamiliar environments like a Harly Davidson’s or a Tatoo Parlour. In all cases, it turned out everybody involved was refreshingly human.

I went over to the other side of Sheffield, the nice side, to an ordinary-looking house in a mild and suburban street, and met the dominatrix in question, who I won’t name here, because a mention in Ben-Them is not a very sexy form of advertising. I’d expected someone dangerously commanding, but she was warm, approachable, even ditzy, and reminded me of Camille Coduri, who is always a good person to be reminded of. She brewed some tea and told me she was intense, dominating and commanding, but only when she was on the clock. Even her clients, before and after sessions, got to see her good-natured, real life. Beyond the beige of the house was a false book-case which swung open to reveal hidden steps to a dungeon. Unlike any dungeon I’d imagined, hers was in the loft. It was filled with equipment, whips, straps, a couple of cages with some glorious angles for the photoshoot. In a den of toys, nothing got me quite as excited as seeing a real false bookcase. It was like visiting the Anne Frank house, but fun! My favourite feature to find in the loft was a pair of rubber rats, the sort of things people use as Halloween ornaments. They added to the dungeon charm. I do like rats and mice. The least good thing about the dungeon was that, like my own loft, it got very hot in the summer, so the window had to be left open for quite a while.

The other person along for the photoshoot was a sub - a regular client and friend of the dominatrix, known only as Sub D, who had agreed to feature in the photoshoot. Taking tea with the dom and her sub, I got to hear how the whole relationship worked. This wasn’t as I’d imagined, exploitation and suffering and maximum woe. Both talked of the work done in the dungeon as something fundamentally about trust, about being able to surrender utterly to someone who may bind you tightly and talk rough and dirty, and cage you and whip you if you so desire, but every part was mutually decided, and based on Sub D’s bond of trust with his dom. Personally I didn’t see how that was very sexy, but apparently sexiness isn’t really at the core of this sort of bondage.

The Bible talks a great deal about bondage, but rarely about this sort. There are dozens of passages, if you’re in the right translation, about Moses leading people out of bondage - the bondage of slavery in Egypt, and Jesus likewise leading all who will believe out of the bondage of sin. In both cases freeing people utterly from seemingly inescapable imprisonment - but in both cases, the people, once free, had an urge to return to the comfortable familiarity of exploitation. Numbers 11, which is the one with the quails, sees the Israelites in the wilderness saying ‘all we have is Manna from heaven, but when we were slaves in Egypt we had melons, garlic, fish and cucumbers - and wishing themselves back in chains. Paul’s letters in the new testament warn of returning to sinful ways. Grigori Rasputin was for a time part of a cult that believed in sinning as much as possible to get more of God’s forgiveness and grace, despite Romans 6 being very explicit about not doing so: ‘Shall we go on sinning so that grace may increase? **By no means**
! We died to sin; how can we live in it any longer? Or don't you know that all of us who were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death?’. After some months, Rasputin left the cult, disillusioned. I always feel for him. He seemed to have a fascinating mishmash of faith and actual healing power, but confusion in his heart, and most of his wicked reputation comes from propagandist sources and Boney-M.

The closest Biblical equivalent is probably Samson, in Judges chapters 13-16. He, too, was a horny, hairy, divinely blessed loose cannon with vast political sway and a death to remember. Samson was the judge of Israel for 20 years - that’s somewhere between lawgiver, prince, and the MVP tank of their armies. He fell for Delilah, and a favourite bedtime game was that she would ask how he could be deprived of his superhuman powers, then she’d tie him up, then he’d fall asleep and she’d shout, ‘’wake up, the Philistines are coming” and Samson would leap up, freeing himself from his bondage - at which point Delilah gets upset that Samson didn’t trust her with his true weakness. Samson was playing a dangerous game, but surely one he enjoyed. It would be naive to imagine she tied him up and he fell asleep in that state without imagining some passionate lovemaking sex between those events. If you doubt me, look in chapter 16. Samson, right before the Delilah passage, goes and sleeps with a sex-worker in Gaza. He has not lost that appetite.

The interesting question: what delight was there for Samson in being tied up, night after night, when he knew he could escape? A lot of the time, I think the tools of bondage are flimsy, they’re representative of being trapped or helpless. Cheap handcuffs break. The hardware in the local sex-shop window looks insubstantial. The doors to the dominatrix’s cages were wooden. None of these would contain anyone genuinely seeking escape. This is not the world of an anchoress seeking permanent, life-long imprisonment. Like Sub D, Samson found some delight in the concept of the trap, with putting himself into commanding hands and knowing, for once, helplessness, like a child pretending to believe in Father Christmas, but not quite knowing they’re pretending — which I believe is the state for almost all children — Samson got his giddies pretending to believe himself trapped. But once his true secret was known he was blinded, bound, and imprisoned for real. The difference between Samson and Sub D was that Samson was putting his life in the hands of someone who was not trustworthy. He was gambling his God-given calling for the sake of erotic adventure, and deliberately playing with fire, perhaps excited by the idea that he might find himself truly trapped. He wanted bondage and he got prison and death. Personally I suspect there’s nothing wrong with erotic adventuring. Support your local dominatrices, or do it with a friend you trust, but if you spend your life hurling yourself into traps without someone you know you can trust, you will surely die and it will be no fun. If you’ve been blessed by God - and you really probably have - try not to hurl yourself into every yawning chasm, not to play russian roulette, or get yourself chucked in an enemy prison. Look after yourself, and get your jollies responsibly.