Caffeine Daydreams

Tentatively, I listen as jazz percolates in through my headphones and down into my ears, caffeinating my brain.

Ah, Miles be my wild mistress.

I watch the women's 49kg taekwondo match on the BBC's live olympics channel. The dull task on my computer screen at work only intensifies my interest, as the two stick-thin women throw their legs at one another.

One of them has the letters 'DOM' written on the back of her jersey, clearly indicating that she is the Dominant and the other a submissive. Obviously all this kicking and flailing is some sort of ritual whereby the sub is challenging the Master, wanting to be taken by force. Ah, the mouthy sub routine, I think to myself, it's a classic. The Dom has to not only control their own emotions but bend the will of the other in order to...

I blink and look again. It dawns on me (rather slowly) that DOM problably stands for 'dominican republic', and that this is an olympic taekwondo match, not an elaborate scenario play. I look around and it appears I am not in a paddle-lined dungeon, but in my office, with no other kink stimuli save for the stapler on my desk.

Be wary, dear traveller, the mind of a dom is a twisted and winding garden at best. Abandon hope all ye who enter here.

Then I look at my empty mug, and wonder whether I should start cutting back on the coffee.