Gods and goddesses are cruel in mythologies. They use their bright, heavenly powers recklessly and brutally to satisfy their primal desires and hungers. Against these cruel tyrants, humankind is weak, desperate and insignificant.
The intensity of power is dependent on the desire to obtain it. Lust is the deathliest among these primal desires; it will punish its victim in different ways and makes him crawl through thorns. The whip is given to a cold and cruel ruler, who humiliates those around him with his eyes. The fruit in Venus’s hand must be earned.
The punishment, just like a gift, will come from those hands to which power is given. So, the intensity of lust, as long as it is delayed, will be proportional to the greatness of the sacrifice that is made; just as Deleuze said, when all calamities are overcome, darkness will come as a gift.
To taste power is possible only by being exposed to it before obtaining it. To surrender to it despite its cruelty is a strict rule for claiming the award. Contracts necessitate this; like two creatures who chase their prey like hungry animals face each other: pain and pleasure. According to Masoch, these contracts are the records of the encounter; and love is only possible as long as encounters are recorded. Gestures should be announced, promised, and detailly described before being made.
The body is fragile, mortal; it falls prey to time and it is a piece of meat that eventually will rot. But on the other hand, it is resolute; life will always find a way even when it rolls through dust and dirt. While the nails grow long and dark, the hair entangles in itself and felts. Even when the mind dims; even when words turn to stones that swell in the mouth, this creature can keep breathing in this dirt and filth. When you look at the bruises that are hidden on the skin, it becomes apparent that the end is near. In other words, life gives first, and then takes it all in return. But when the masochist climbs on the climax of pleasure, he desires to see that there is nothing left to give. Like a bandit who’s been punished in advance, who paid all his dues beforehand, he wanders around that bright light. The light is cold; it makes one cold. The light is warm, it burns. The light wanders on the body of the bandit, whipping it meanwhile. The important thing is not to get satisfied, it is to get even more hungry. Because if the sign of life is in hunger, to be satisfied could only be the end.
Venus in Furs creates a cold and wuthering wind which reawakens the memory of a house, airs the velvet curtains, vibrates the candles that are burning in silver lustres and traces different variations of pain from one room to another.
When you indifferently hold the hand that reaches out to you in a dark hall and when you cannot surrender to the untameable poisonous snakes that move deep within; what good could tracing pleasure from one room to another do to you?
The pain that comes with surrender points to the pleasure that shines at the same place where everyone eventually finds at the end of their roads. But this is not the road that everyone wants to take; this is a long, serpentine and painful road. ,
