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Admitting this will probably grant me a permanent place in the peanut gallery of Japanese literature, or at least make people think I’m a macabre beast, but such is the price I pay for being honest. The book which turned me on is a play, by an author better known for his novels than his stage work, based on the life of the Marquis De Sade, told from the point of view of someone we rarely hear from in the story of the famous sadist, his wife, Renee. Madame De Sade, by Yukio Mishima, turns me on each time I read it. In fact, a good portion of Mishima’s work, in all of its grisly, painful, sadistic glory, gives me terrible thrills.

I haven’t talked much about my interest in kink on this blog, because I’m new to kink, don’t wish to offer any generalizations which may prove offensive to other, more experienced kinksters, and because I do not want people full of their Freudian excuses to descend upon my blog in droves pointing to my sexual preferences as proof that I’m a monster of depravity. So, here’s the premiere of me admitting that I sometimes enjoy dabbling in kink, and a friendly reminder that people’s sexual preferences do not translate into daddy issues, personal issues, or anything else. Keep it to yourself.

Back to the play. It’s a curiously sexy masterpiece. M. De Sade doesn’t appear in it himself, he’s the unseen spectre hanging over the entire play while his actions are discussed in detail, excruciating, sexy detail. The sexiness level, as well as the interesting plot which forms the skeleton of the juicy dialogue and scenarios, make this an interesting and strangely overlooked gem of Mishima’s writing which more people should look into.

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