I came to Paris for the tourist traps—the Louvre, the Eiffel Tower. Just sightseeing. But standing where the Marquis de Sade was once imprisoned sent me down a rabbit hole. The trip stopped being about landmarks and became a deep dive into the philosophy of my own spanking fetish, pain, power and weird comfort zones. Turns out, the real art in Paris isn’t hanging in the Louvre.
Hey everyone! Mark here! 👋
Paris. The City of Love? Maybe. For me, it’s the city of radical contrasts. A city whose vibe isn’t just sickly-sweet romance but is also charged with the brutal energy of revolutions and decapitated kings. It’s a place where the ghosts of philosophers like Voltaire and, yep, the Marquis de Sade are whispering in your ear right alongside the lovers on the Seine. And honestly? I’m here to be seduced and challenged by both. ✨
Even though this trip was back in August, the impressions are still super fresh. Looking back, I have to laugh: I knew my parents were visiting from China soon after, but in all my excitement, I didn’t really think through the consequences. If I had, it would’ve been a no-brainer: I wouldn’t have gone with a straight acquaintance; I would’ve gone solo to date some kinksters in Paris. 😉
So, this trip turned out a little different. Instead of hunting for new adventures, I was in full-on sightseeing mode. That meant “action”—you know what I mean—had to take a backseat. But you know what? It wasn’t a big deal at all. Because Paris has a way of seducing you without any physical stuff, awakening your deepest desires. The city itself became my date, and it took me on a journey from the sheer beauty of art to the darkest, most philosophical corners of human desire.
The Sightseeing Rush: Chasing One Beauty After Another
They say Paris is an open-air museum, and that’s no exaggeration. The second you step out of the Gare de l’Est, you’re hit with a wave of architectural splendor and historical weight. With my friend at my side, I dove headfirst into the tourist frenzy. We tumbled from one landmark to the next in a total daze. The Eiffel Tower, of course. Seeing it in person for the first time, stabbing the sky like an iron spire, is a breathtaking moment. You feel tiny and, at the same time, part of something huge.
Then, Notre Dame Cathedral. Even scarred by the fire, it radiates an incredible strength and resilience. My biologist heart almost saw it as a living organism that survived a major injury and is now slowly healing. The gargoyles looking out from the scaffolding seemed like silent guardians of an ancient, wounded soul. So yeah, I had to recreate a meetup with Quasimodo, the bell ringer, in front of Notre Dame. I mean, of course, I used AI to put him in the shot.
In the Louvre, things got personally intense for me, but it was less about the paintings and more about the sculptures that captivated me. The perfectly formed male bodies in marble—gods, heroes, athletes—radiate a cold, dominant perfection. But at the same time, they’re lifeless and untouchable. This sight made me painfully aware of the contrast to the warmth and imperfection of a real, living body, which is what I’m looking for. And yet, it’s exactly this sovereign, carved-in-stone authority that I find so damn fascinating. 😉
After all that high culture, we needed a change of scenery. And what better place than Le Marais, the pulsating heart of queer Paris? As we wandered through the charming, narrow streets, past chic boutiques, cool cafés, and the rainbow flags flying proudly from the buildings, I was hit with that familiar, comforting feeling. It’s the feeling of being in a place where you can just be.
My radar, of course, was on high alert. The mix of people here is insane: a colorful blend of tourists, locals, and the whole spectrum of guys—from cool, stylish boys to trashy chavs to those elegant, older gentlemen with their confident aura. It was a feast for the eyes, but it also left a deep sense of longing. Since I was with my friend, it was a day of looking, not hunting, which only cranked up the internal tension and the desire to fully taste that freedom.
A Square, a Prison, and an Idea: The Bastille and the Marquis de Sade
The climax of my mental journey came at a place that seems unremarkable at first glance today: the Place de la Bastille. It’s a huge traffic circle with the July Column rising from its center. There’s nothing left of the infamous fortress that once stood here, stormed in 1789. And yet, the air is thick with history.
Here, within the walls of the Bastille, sat one of history’s most radical and controversial thinkers: the Marquis de Sade. As I watched the chaotic Paris traffic, a completely different journey began in my head. De Sade, the man who gave us the word “sadism,” was more than just a writer of dirty novels. He was a philosopher who provoked the hypocritical morality of his time to its absolute limit. I stood there thinking about my own personal passion, spanking, and wondered: what does the act of being beaten have to do with the radical philosophy of freedom from a man who was locked up right here?
Pain as the Destroyer of Lies: De Sade believed society forces us to wear masks. Pain, in his radical view, rips those masks off and forces us into a state of brutal honesty. For an overthinker like me, this is incredibly liberating. The pain doesn’t allow for further thought; it just shuts down my inner monologue and forces me to exist only in the here and now, to live only in the situation. It’s a forced, but healing, honesty.
The Rebellion Against the Comfort Zone: De Sade rebelled against a world that wanted to ignore everything uncomfortable. Spanking, for me, is a conscious decision to leave that comfort zone, to switch off my mind and feel more alive. This parallels my move to Europe, which was also a huge step out of my Chinese comfort zone. I’m glad I did it, because I’m finding new comfort zones here, and through my kink adventures, I’m learning that even painful moments can offer their own kind of comfort.
The Reversal of Power: And here’s the crucial point where we “level up” de Sade’s ideas today. In his world, power was often absolute and cruel. In the modern kink world, the real power lies with the receiver. Their consent is the foundation; their safeword is the law. The red welts on the skin aren’t the wounds of a victim but the “red ink” signing a contract. It’s not about exercising power over someone, but about the shared fun of playing with a power dynamic based on absolute trust. The receiver has ultimate power over their body—a form of autonomy that de Sade, in his absolutism, might never have understood.
These thoughts weren’t just a fleeting moment at the Place de la Bastille; they stuck with me, especially in the quiet moments in my hotel room before falling asleep. My visit to Paris may have been low on “action,” but it was incredibly rich with insights and a deep, philosophical dive into what drives me.
This trip showed me that the most exciting adventures aren’t always the ones you experience physically. Sometimes, the journeys inside your own head—sparked by a place, a piece of art, or the story of a man in a prison—are the ones that change you the most.
So, I left Paris not with handprints on my ass, but with new, deep impressions on my soul. And honestly? Sometimes, that’s even hotter.
…although, I can’t leave you guys with just the philosophical stuff. 😉 So I’m sharing a few impressions that, while not taken in Paris, are thematically a perfect fit and are definitely in the spirit of de Sade. I hope you like the following pictures and that they get you into your own comfort zone of spanking horniness.
What do you think? Have you ever had experiences on your travels where a place inspired you to have completely unexpected thoughts? Let me know in the comments! I’m super excited to hear your stories! ✨
