(Excerpt from Mistress Butterfly, as yet unpublished and under current review work of fiction based on factual events, by Kardynyl SynysTyr, writing under the name T.Q., The Swann. This is a Marquis America exclusive preview.)
“No one is truly free, they are a slave to wealth, fortune, the law, or other people restraining them from acting according to their will.†~ Euripides
One of the great lessons my late Lady Papillon taught me was to be wary of, and avoid falling into, the trap of grandiose self-entitlement. Now, years later and in our modern world of instant access to previously guarded materials – and instant access to previously guarded individuals – I believe that lesson is more prevalent now than it ever has been before.
To this very day I still remember and relate this story the few times I’ve been asked about my views on Dominance and submission. To me, it is simply remembered as the Parable of the Parmesan Wheel, and to me, it is a fantastically effective analogy.
The Lady Papillon once heard me try to explain to a new potential suitor, right in the front drawing room, the difference between fantasy and reality and the delicate relationship and balance between the two (“You can’t feel the pain of a nipple clamp, let alone the sting of a real whip, in your dreams and fantasiesâ€, I had said). The young suitor had remarked that he wasn’t looking to be punished or to have pain inflicted on him. He was really only into bondage and wouldn’t agree to subject himself to anything but. He had pointed his thumb towards his chest and said with an obvious sense of empowerment, “I’m a sub after all, not a slaveâ€, at which point the Lady Papillon, with a flare of her nostrils and a widening of her eyes, immediately interjected and reminded him that if he wanted to serve in her household, he would be what she told him he was. And in the Household of the Grand Dame, there was but one definition, and it was all encompassing: Hers.
After the young interviewee had fled the House (whom we never saw again, I might add), Papillon had shook her head and sighed. “I really thought that one had some promise as a new houseboy”, she said.
“He seemed nice enough†I had added. “You must have seen something in him to invite him for a personal interview, my Lady?â€
“Aye, I did. But like so many others, my dear little duckling, this boy wants to carve out his own personal grain of identity and be the center of his own world – not be an integral and loved part of the whole. He wrote an amazing letter and sure talked a good story on the telephone, let me tell you. No, Swann, he won’t be welcome as a member of this House. He is clearly too fixated on his own agenda.†She let out another exasperated sigh. “At least this one had the class not to mail me a Polaroid of his crotch.â€
She had managed to glean the “factual†information from his interview. There was no question about it. This boy was applying to serve and was expected to fit comfortably within the rules and regulations that we all observed within that strange family compact. Papillon always took great pains to clearly inform all who wrote to her, or had a telephone conversation with her, that she rarely if ever required anymore houseboys. On the occasions that she was seeking, like this instance, she also clearly outlined her expectations: you were entering a family – unusual to conventional eyes this particular ‘family’ may be, but the applicant was still reminded he (or she in some cases) would need to conform to the rules of the Lady of the House.
Yet, he had not been able to understand that, even though he shamelessly protested just how experienced a servant he was, ultimately his relationship with the Grand Dame was destined for confrontation. He simply wasn’t interested in a true partnership, a true mutual understanding. His interest was vested in what can be summarized in a single paraphrase: “I have a chance to live in a house with a Domina! Oh, the fun I’m going to have!â€
I had understood and recognized this. It was a former house boy’s possessiveness, sadly, that ultimately led to the fracturing of an intense relationship with Papillon. No amount of protestations, tears, or even threats could move her: her faith and her trust in him was destroyed with his sullenness and his obsessive possession of her, and for all intents and purposes, he was simply dead to her now. She was going to move on.
Having gone through such a painful experience, Papillon was determined to find another boy who was – unabashedly – exactly like her other houseboys. It would prove to be a fruitless search. Through the weeks and months she entertained numerous suitors for the third position within the Chateau. Eventually, Papillon was resigned to having but two attendants in the house. The workload between the two of us, of course, increased, as we had to pick up the lion’s share of the chores that formerly were assigned to the boy who was asked to leave. Thus I knew exactly what she was referring to when she claimed this new boy was fixated on his own wants and needs and seemed to care little for hers – or ours.
“Why is it so hard for you to find another boy, my Lady?†I had asked her at the time. This boy was one of the very few in the coming months that would be invited for a personal interview, even though literally dozens of potential supplicants were writing her letters on a daily basis, virtually begging to be seen. Some even offered ‘tribute’ or ‘compensation for her time’, but those she deemed as unacceptable she just politely sent a note to decline their offer.
“Duckling, surely I’ve expressed my views on what is happening – and what is going to happen – to our lovely little proclivity as time progresses? This very exercise with this boy today is a prime example, I’m afraid.â€
“No, my Lady, I don’t recall that. Care to flesh it out some?†I never failed to enjoy the opportunity to learn something from her: she was a fantastic, animated and fascinating teacher.
She had sat back in the sofa and crossed her legs in her familiar lotus position, a stance she took whenever she had the chance to impart at length a great lesson. “Swann, do you happen to know where the terms “Dom†and “Domina†come from?â€
“Sure, they mean Dominant men and women … don’t they?†It seemed like too easy a question to answer.
“Of course, but the words themselves, at least as far as SM is concerned, have a distinct genesis, if you will. After the Second World War, especially in Europe, the horror and strife may have stopped – but people’s desire for deviancy didn’t. Considering that most of Europe had been overrun and administered by a German army which in itself was controlled by a fanatical administration, people sure as hell weren’t about to parade into pubs and cabarets, let alone dare be seen in public, wearing a pair of riding boots and brandishing a riding crop. That would have been extremely insensitive given the circumstance of the time. I mean, does the name ‘Julius Streicher’ happen to sound familiar, perhaps?â€
“But the desire to play with deviancy was still very much ingrained, Swann. In places like the Netherlands, France, Norway, and especially in Great Britain and what was left of Germany itself, people still needed an outlet in which to congregate and freely exchange not only ideas, but engage in “consensual hostilities” as well. It simply wasn’t considered appropriate for people to be seen as involved in ‘deviant behavior’ when the entire continent itself had just undergone what had amounted to a gigantic rape.â€
“Naturally, those who stepped to the forefront of the various European SM communities decided they needed some way in which to recognize, and eventually address, each other. Europe may seem like a big place, Swann, but in reality most of the major underground SM gatherings took place within an easy driving distance of most of the continental cities and large towns. A Portuguese community leader at one of these informal gatherings, I believe it was in Brussels (where he lived at the time),  commented that since 1932, the Estado Novo movement, and its ruler Antonio Salazar, had an iron grip on Portugal and had legislated away the Portuguese nobility – and thereby eradicating the titles of Portuguese nobles.â€
“Portuguese noble titles, Swann, were simply “Domâ€, meaning “Lordâ€, and “Dominaâ€, meaning “Ladyâ€, in the entitlement sense only. It wasn’t like the English gentry that today still desperately cling to their toothless titles of Baron, Duke or Lord. This innovative community leader originally from Lisbon, whose name escapes me sadly, suggested that perhaps throughout the European Continent that dominant men and women could “adopt†the now-defunct titles of “Dom†and “Domina†in an effort to identify each other, somewhat secretly and clandestinely, even in the most public of venues. The words came from the old Latin of the Romans, of course, the kings and queens of festivals and pageantry in an occupied Europe of another era, so it seemed a completely natural fit.â€
“Of course, this idea certainly wouldn’t do in Portugal: but for the rest of Europe and then eventually The New World, it truly was a uniting factor and a godsend after the horrific experience of a world war. The only downside, I’m afraid, is that when the 1950’s rolled around, there sure was an awful lot of seemingly ex-patriot Portuguese Royalty being introduced at tea and dinner parties. Naturally, the ‘word’ got out about the ‘titles’ and the rest, as they say, is history. In the English speaking world especially, “Dom†and “Domina†seemed the natural phantom titles because of their closeness to the word “dominantâ€.
“Now, Swann, at this point I want you to picture, in your mind, a Parmesan wheel.â€

Old School SM
Now I must confess, at this point in my life I had no idea what a ‘Parmesan Wheel’ was, nor could I recognize one if it was laying before me. I also knew by this point well enough to admit to not understanding something Papillon was trying to teach me. Ignorance she could tolerate: trying to fake your way through a lesson and be oblivious infuriated her. Outright indifference to her teachings sometimes was cause for outright dismissal. That was a part of the rule of the House, and everyone obeyed and understood them. When Papillon wished to impart a lifetime worth of experience, you had best listen.
 “No, my Lady, I assume it’s a kind of cheese, a kind of Parmesan cheese?†She had laughed. “A Parmesan wheel is Parmesan cheese before its cut and grated down into a fine powder for your pasta, Swann. And they’re huge! Heavy suckers! Now, I want you to picture this gigantic, round disk of pure cheese, perfect in its simplicity, and I want you to imagine that the letter “S†and the letter “M†are emblazoned on the top surface of that cheese.â€
“Got it? Good. Imagine that the initial definition of ‘sadism’, as given to us by the lovely Richard Krafft-Ebing in the 1880’s which he based mostly on the writings and depravities of the infamous Marquis de Sade and Krafft-Ebing’s own literary contemporary, Leopold von Sacher-Masoch, is represented by those two capital letters, ‘SM’ on that cheese wheel. Yes, I know that Sigmund Freud, good old narcissistic mother-lover that he was, receives credit for further defining ‘SM’, but all he really did was just join the words “sadism†and “masochism†into the single phrase we all know and love today. Ironic, really, because due to a nasty war in Europe, there is the perception that in order to be further identifiable, you must separate the “sadism†from the “masochism†and prescribe obsolete titular terminology based on a bygone European noble class to the “sadism†part of the wheel. How do you separate the “S†from the “M†on that wheel, Swann?â€
“I guess you have to cut it, my Lady. I guess you’d cut it right between the “S†and the “M?â€
“A perfect answer, and the correct one, of course. By the way, don’t ever let me catch you using the term ‘S and M’, ever. There is no ‘and’ or ‘ampersand’ in the middle. It’s ‘SM’. That was the original published phrase and it dishonors the originator to alter it in any way. Now, you’re got Krafft-Ebing’s definition of SM divided into two equal, identifiable parts, but each half can still be put together, side by side, to resemble the original. Even though the de facto definition of Krafft-Ebing’s ‘SM’ has been severed, at least both parts of the wheel still can be recognizable as a whole.â€
“Moving ahead a few years now, someone in the New World takes an objection to being labeled as a ‘sadomasochist’. He decides that the connotation is entirely too negative and entirely too inherently violent for him. So this gentleman writes about and coins the term ‘Bondage and Discipline’ in an effort to sanitize the violent connotations that have come to be associated with the word ‘sadomasochism.’ This notion is entirely embraced by the New World communities, especially in San Francisco where the Free Love and Freedom of Expression generations already have established a firm foothold, so that ‘Bondage and Discipline’ now is representative of those who still want to be identifiable to their peers as kinky: but not as deviant as those who still believe that it’s still all part of the same whole, namely ‘SM’. So let’s take out our knife and cut the wheel into quarters, cutting the ‘S’ in half for the Dominants and the ‘M’ in half for the submissives. Now we have four quarters, each identifiable as a separate piece, but still able to maintain the illusion as an entire cheese wheel when reassembled.â€
“Into the latter part of the 1970’s, a female doctoral candidate comes along and decides the wheel needs to be separated even further. This person coins the term ‘Dominance and Submission’, and deftly creates yet another acronym, ‘D/S’. Somehow, the connotation is that ‘D/S’ is an antiseptic version of the harder core SM, yet is a little more stringent, organized and more dedicated than those who simply wish to identify under the ‘Bondage and Discipline’ banner.
“What happens next, I suppose, is inevitable. It isn’t just about ‘Sadomasochism’ or ‘Bondage and Discipline’ anymore. Now, there has to be an entirely separate sub category of people called ‘Tops and Bottoms’. This category is in response to those who want to partake of the sensual and sexual excitement that is still SM – but they don’t subscribe to the commitment, the pageantry, the ritual and the loyalty that at one time made the Parmesan wheel so complete and strong. These ‘Tops and Bottoms’ want no part of a real power exchange. They just wish to tie and be tied; whip and be whipped. They only wish to experience the superficial pleasures of the flesh rather than subscribe to the entire notion of a community united on the basic premise that there can be joy through consensual ownership and servitude.â€
“Invariably, what you end up with is what I call ‘honeydews’, as in ‘honey, do this to me’ and ‘honey, do that to me’. The mutuality that was so very integral to our growth and survival as a community in the mid part of the century is starting to become fractured. And as a result, when you slice our original cheese wheel into further portions, the integrity of it – and symbolically, ‘SM’ – becomes suspect as well. The further cuts that are made in an effort to personalize and identify each sub-interest further work to destroy the Parmesan as a complete wheel, and it becomes nearly impossible to reconcile all the parts as a whole again. Naturally, as more and more people have access to information and more and more people insist on scraping out a niche for themselves as an identifiable part of ‘SM’; it is no longer possible to continue to slice the pieces of the original wheel.â€
“Well, that means you have to start grating the cheese with a grinder!”, said I in a moment of crystal clarity.
“Exactly, Duckling. That is what has happened in our day and age. That beautiful, complete and whole Parmesan wheel that was ‘SM’ Krafft-Ebing so eloquently wrote about over 100 years ago has now become nothing more than a pile of grated Parmesan cheese. The integrity is gone. The cohesiveness is destroyed forever. True, it’s still Parmesan cheese (that is to say, technically it’s still all ‘SM’), but the wheel has been ground down into so fine a powder through the demands of individual labels and titles, it is nearly impossible to recognize how strong the initial wheel was in the first place – let alone attempt to put it back together again. Hell, there used to be a single word that adequately described each and every one of us that enjoyed our sensual and sexual pleasures outside the normal fidelities of the boudoir.â€
“And that word is?â€
“Kinky.â€
“Of course. That makes sense. It should be obvious to everyone.â€
“But it isn’t, Swann. I do not fault those whose commitment to SM as a pursuit is merely to find partners who will oblige them their temporary fantasies. Whether people wish to admit it or not, everyone of has preferences and fetishes to some degree: ours just tends to be a little more extreme than others and, in these times, a little more socially acceptable than it used to be. That’s been both a blessing, and a curse.â€
“Then why bother with these boys, my Lady? If you’re certain you won’t find someone suitable who understands, why put yourself through that kind of aggravation?â€
And here came the punch line to the entire lesson. My Lady smiled at me, cocked her head to one side, and simply said: “We can’t rebuild the wheel that has already been ground down to nothing, Swann. But maybe, just maybe, we in our Home can simply work to acquire another wheel, so to speak, and keep it within our own sphere of influence. I do believe it is never to late to rebuild if you have solid traditions already well in place. Those who wish to build a community, based on mutuality, responsibility, trust, communication, loyalty and above all honesty and respect will always find a Sanctuary with us.â€
My Lady was absolutely correct in one regard. Even she couldn’t possibly fathom just how precise her own prediction of further decay would become. Over the years, people being the animals of obstinate selfishness they are, have further tried to grate down the original whole of what was once just simply came under the auspices of ‘SM’. Because of, but not restricted to, the daily lessons provided to me by my Lady Papillon you can call me to this day an unrepentant purist.
Kardynyl SynysTyr
(Mistress Butterfly is a fictionalized account of a young man’s introduction to, education of, and participation in a strict, ritualistic and formal SM environment. Available soon, excerpts will be available exclusively from Marquis America.)