How I Learned to be a Dom! (Lessons from Master Rongweigh - Part 1)
Wednesday June 26, 2013
Caveat - This is not a true story... well... mostly not true. Ok... some of it is real... but I am not going to share what, where or who. All names have been changed to protect the guilty. Dominus hubiscum habisco. Esperitu sanctum. Dey gas da bus. Me gas da bus. You gas da bus. We missed the bus. They missed the bus. When's the next bus? Summa cum laude. Magna cum laude. The radio's too loudy. Odesti fidellas. Ipso Facto; Caveat emptor; No deposit, no return. Or that other thing. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
I apologize in advance for the time you used wasted reading this.
Had I known then what I know now… I never would have even looked twice at the Groupon advertised from Fetworld.com proclaiming, “Learn to be a Dom!” Underneath, in smaller letters, but equally bold print, “Earn a month long apprenticeship with Master Rongweigh – Owner, House of the Underwhelming Twisted!” I was hooked, I had to call as this Master had used several of my favorite words in a sentence.
I quickly dialed the number listed there, and was amazed at the answering machine message. It was as if He was right, or perhaps left, next to me. The ragged voice sputtered, “I am the Great Master Rongweigh! I have been proclaimed by the Great Houses of Europe to be Master of the second, or maybe third, darkest realm of your imagination! (We will leave the first one to you)"
There was a dramatic pause that may have lasted forever, or perhaps only a second... I wasn't sure, I was so excited to be listening to the voice of a True Master. As my thoughts quickly returned, He then continued. "I know you have called because of your insanely unwieldy desire to be my submissive, or maybe you might want to be a Dom that will someday become a Master, trained my way! Either way, you called, so Heed My Words! Won’t you please leave a message at the beep?”
I might have run screaming into the night, or into the early morning, but… there was something vaguely interesting about the offer; so I left my name and number. It took a long time for the return call, maybe 10 or even 20 seconds. I could hear heavy breathing, and for a moment, I thought it was my ex-fiance, wanting to have a phone sex quickie. But no. A quavering mousey voice proclaimed it was Master Rongweigh. He asked for a moment as He tried to catch his breath.
He explained that he had been teaching a class on breath play, and he was demonstrating the class his first rule, “the Dom should pass out first,” when he heard the phone ring. Speaking in as Domly a voice as I could muster, I informed him that I wanted to earn that apprenticeship. He chortled, and let me know there were many, many, very eager but dead people in line before me, and I would have to prove I was living in order to get the apprenticeship. I thought to myself, heck, I’m Domly enough to pull that one off. So we arranged for a personal interview.
I arrived a little early for our appointment decked out in my finest Domwear that I bought second hand from “Doms Big & Tall.” Master Rongweigh was just as I had pictured him. He was about mid-late 20s, freckled head shaved bald on top in the Franciscan style of the great northern European houses. There was just enough hair on his upper lip to be called, “peachfuzz.” As we looked eachother over, I could see his masterly gaze was taking all of me in. I tried to meet that stare, but it was difficult, as his left eye continually drifted to my right.
But he was certainly a Master, in all his glory and with a capital M. He was dressed to the sevens, with his Count Chocula style cape, and matching orange cufflinks. His boots were shiny midnight blue, and his black floods gave him a look that subtly spoke, “Je ne sais que?” as he whispered the same. I asked him what that meant, and he slapped the rear of my head and harshly quipped, "You'll learn, boy. You'll learn."
After that first correction, he jumped right into his first lesson. It was the initial lecture on the finer points of being alive. Once he realized I was actually breathing, he said,” well my Boy (even though I was at least 10 years older) – you can start right now!” My House of Inadequately Prepared Surprises awaits you! “Wait,” I proclaimed, “Am I at the right House? I thought this was the House of the Underwhelming Twisted?” “Ahhh,” He said, “No, my Boy, that was last week.” So let us begin!
“Although any experience you have had up ‘til now is Bunk, let’s jump right in!” We started right off with what He called, “Fringe play.” We skipped together down a short hallway toward the door marked, “Fringes Only!” He looked up into my eyes, with an utterly ineffective malevolence in his gaze. He then dropped his voice an entire half octave and stuttered at me, “It’s time for your initiation, prepare to begin your learning” We opened the door, and it was like a throw back to the 60s. The room was awash in disco lights, with all kinds of hangings, wall covering beads, string and of course, red fringe. “You see how wild we get here?” he grinned evilly. I could only nod incredulously.
He grabbed my arm, and turned me. He spoke in a voice that was one shade darker than the Gene Wilder version of Willy Wonka, and said, “Onward and upward!” While I was expecting a door that revealed the Wonkavator, that was hardly the case. Instead we stalked down the hall. As we moved from shadow to shadow, he pointed out the huge framed pictures that littered the walls.
I stepped a little closer to one, and could see they were quite elaborate and very disorganized watercolors. He pointed to a seemingly random one and said, this is my favorite. I could barely make out a general shape, but he leaned in to me and whispered. "That's one I had commissioned by the Master. He painted me in mid-flogger swing." I looked again at the Rorschach reminiscent piece and shrugged.
We continued for some way, Him commented on this picture and that. After what seemed to be forever - but was only 20 feet - we arrived. He grasped the large new brass doorknocker and knocked it in the classic 'shave and a haircut' rhythm. He quickly opened the door, and shut it behind Himself. I heard him say in His Domly Voice, through the paper thin door, "What's the password?" I stared. Perhaps it was a minute, perhaps it was ten. I had no idea. Then, in a whisper, He said, "It's Rhubarb." I thought for another minute, then said, "Rhubarb."
There were the clanking sounds of great locks being thrown back, chains being withdrawn, and then the door creaked open. I had wondered briefly why the door hadn't sounded like that when he stepped in. But my thoughts faded quickly, as I view the sight before me. This room was simply brimming with bullseye style targets, all different kinds! There were Cork dart targets on the wall, archery targets leaning against the far end, there was a 600 yard surplus army sniper target that took up one whole side wall, and filling in any open space were NRA regulation paper targets taped up with what appeared to be silver duct tape.
But that wasn't the amazing part of the room. The thing that held me in awe was the table that dominated the center of this circular design. It was a wooden framed table, straight from the surplus section at Ikea. You know, the one that someone returned from christmas in the late 60's /early 70's? But this one, with the red sparkling melamine was covered with a hundred or so smaller leather whips. Some were from the amusement park, others obviously from the ren faire, still others were obtained from ebay. He said in a great attempt at ominous, “It is time for you to learn the basics of being a Magnificent Domly Dom, such as Myself (He always capitalized his first person when he spoke).
You must first learn how to throw a whip. Here, let Me show you.” He picked up one of the many whips, and held it by the cracker. He then took a step forward and tossed it, spinning, at the wall. I looked at him with a quizzical grimace as He said, “Now you throw one, and I will correct you.” I asked why there were so many, He looked at me with a patronizing look, “of course, you don't want to run and get them each time you throw do you?” “Uhhhh.. no?”
We next began a session of what He called "fireplay 101" I began by using very small dabs of alcohol on my sub. Stepping quickly up, He let me know that if I was going to be anything in fireplay, I needed to get with it. “Dunk that whole cotton ball right into the cup, now smear it all over her chest... yes, that's right. Now... quickly the flame!”
Boy, I knew fireplay was supposed to be really stimulating for the sub, but I didn't think it was supposed to be this exciting! The look on her face was priceless when she went up like a dry Christmas tree! As she ran off and dove screaming into the pool, Master explained that she was attempting the running fireball technique, and that smell was just a little of the cotton that had stuck, not her hair.
He took me by the arm, and with nary a glance over his shoulder, we sauntered down the hall. As He swung open the next door with a grandiose flourish, He chuckled with a twisted grin, “Welcome to My House of Intangible Misfit Toys!” I looked at Him and said, “Wait, I thought this was…” He interrupted, saying, “Nope – that is so five seconds ago! This will be our last lesson for today – Electrical play!” I looked into the room, and seeing fifty or so scattered, slightly blackened appliances and the thin film of water covering the floor, considered how bad this could possibly become. I looked at Him in stark disbelief, and He said, “let me show you how to make your sub dance!” He called out, and into the room stepped a gorgeous dark haired beauty. I was still considering how he could possibly attract such a lovely, when the sub turned and looked our way. Ah, I get it, the slack-jawed vacant look that said it all; clearly this bodacious princess was never intended to be a rocket scientist.
“Now, watch closely,” the Master crowed, “I am going to start giving her some sensations.” With that the Master picked up a toaster, and plugged it in. He then stepped back from the water’s edge. He looked at me, and then with a casual toss, flipped the toaster into the center of the room. Boy Howdy, he was certainly right! That sub was doing all kinds of what appeared to be 80s style break dancing.
Although I only went back for six or seven more sessions, Master Rongweigh sure made an impression on me. I can honestly say that I would not be the Domly Dom I have become without at least an infinitesimal piece of his teachings. His was an entirely new and different way of understanding BDSM Play. Perhaps, one day - if the stars are perfectly in alignment, and you avail yourself of the internet as your way of finding a BDSM Mentor, you too can find someone as ineptly fascinating as Master Rongweigh.