The other day I trued to write a post, but I just couldn’t come up with anything. Lately I have been down in the dumps and I just can’t seem to pull myself out of it. Maybe I need to seek professional help. Can you imagine how that will go? “Hey Doc, I am really screwed up. Can you believe the other day I though of fucking a squirrel?” Wait, did I just type that? Ok. I have never taken drugs, so I do not know where that came from other than my fingers just typing it out.
For those of you that know me, sometimes I get down in the dumps. Hell we all do. Sometimes we just need a good ear that will listen to us bitch and whine. Some people write in a blog. Some will text a friend. Others will pay someone to let them lie on a coach and spill their life story out. I would much rather pay for a blowjob then pay someone to listen to me talk. Hell, I think most guys would much rather have a blowjob then talk to a complete stranger. The exceptions are the gay guys. No offense. Sometimes I turn to comedy. Just the other day I was talking with someone and I made a sly grin. That person laughed at me and said you have the biggest shit eating grin. I stopped for a second, and thought. I have made that comment many many times, but never stopped to think about it. And that day, the more I thought about it, the sicker I got to my stomach. I mean, seriously, would you be grinning after eating shit? “YUMM THIS SHIT IS AWESOME!! LOOK AT ME SMILE!!!” Hold on while I wretch into the trash can.
The other day I was talking to another friend and she was all upset about something. Being the concerned type, I asked her what was wrong. She tells me she is in a bind. I am thinking, great, she needs money to get through the week. Hey, we all fall on hard times. I’ll help a friend in need if I can. Naturally, I asked her how much money she needed. A small grin came across her face and she said, ya know, I can always count on you to be there for me. But I do not need money. Thank you for offering. Well, then. What the hell are you in a bind about? “Well, I don’t know where to go to college. Should I go here and do this or stay here and do that?” I slapped myself on the forehead and said honey, if that’s all you have to worry about, you are doing just fine.
At some point in time we have experienced hard times. Short on money. Losing a job. Losing a loved one. A 4 hour erection that won’t go down. Oh to be 19 again. But the one constant thing in life is this. We always seem to rebound and come out of it stronger. Yes even after a 4 hour erection. A guy might not be able to grip a pen for a week, but his forearm is much stronger after a 4 hour erection.
Speaking of 4 hour erections. I love hearing those commercials where they talk about 4 hour erections. What is the cure for that? Next time I go in for a check up, I think I will ask my doctor. She will love answering that. So Doc (who by the way is a small petite Indian woman, you know Hindu.) how do you treat a 4 hour erection? Do you line the nurses up with a tube of KY and have them start stroking it until it finally peters out? Although, in my case, I would love for the Doc to just climb on board and take care of it for me. Holy shit she is a fine looking woman. Not to mention her nurse is the twin of the chic who plays Callie on Grey’s Anatomy. Another boner in my book. Hmmm Maybe a 3 way with those too. Talk about a game of Doctor. Hold that thought, I think I have a 4 hour erection coming on. Ok. I am done. Can someone hand me a towel please?
Where was I? Oh yea, hard times. Yes even I fall on hard times. Sometimes I just want that ear to listen to me. You don’t need to say a word. No need to pat me on the back and say don’t worry, it will be ok. No shit, I know that. Just sit there and listen. Please. Thank you. I know it will be ok. I know things will get better. I just want to talk and you listen. Now can I have a ham sandwich?
Bottom line is this. Life is a roller coaster filled with peaks and valleys. You learn to enjoy the climb to the peaks and the view from the top. And you learn to deal with the downhill slide and the valleys. You just hope those uphill’s are a lot longer then those downhill’s and the peaks are more of a plateau then a sharp one.
Me
I will inflict the pain, but I will kiss away the tears.
Friday, June 10, 2011
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
My mother
Last night I was watching a show. And it got me thinking about life and all the pain and hurt I have suffered in life. And I am not talking physical pain. I am talking emotional and mental pain. As a kid growing up, I spent most of my time at my grandparent’s house. My grandmother practically raised me. I have 2 uncles who made it their goal in life to tease and torment me to the point of tears. And they wouldn’t stop until they had pushed me there. And they always pushed for more. Either it was holding me down and tickling me until I couldn’t breath, grabbing me by the arms and legs and swinging me until they threw me into the pool. Or the cat that didn’t like me and they would throw me and the cat into a closet together and shut the door. Either way, they were not happy and enjoying themselves until they had me scared and in tears.
My mom on the other had was a different story. I didn’t see her much. Nor was she around much to attend social events such as school functions or sports that I played. I always felt I was a burden to my mother. I always felt as if she didn’t want me when she got pregnant at 17. I was always being pawned off on someone. I remember one time we went to one of her friend’s house and they pushed us kids out the door to go play. I remember trying to get back in the house because it had started to rain only to find the doors locked. I went around trying to look in the windows and remember finding one open a little. Before trying to open it, I heard some moaning. I peeked in window and saw my mom and this couple engaged in sex. My mom took me to her 3-way. After wards her and her friends were smoking pot in the presence of the kids. What a great mom I have huh?
My mom remarried when I was 6 and had another kid. I recently found some pictures of me and my baby sister when she was a new born. I remember the house that picture was taken in. I also remember after my sister was born, mom was back to her old whoring ways. I remember her and my step dad fighting all the time. About whom she was fucking. What drugs she was taking. So on. My mom spent too much time partying and fucking others instead of being a mother. I remember one time walking to the bus stop and my mom passing me on her way home from staying out all night partying and fucking. At the time I didn’t know she was fucking, but now that I look back at it, I know she was. Lipstick smeared. Hair all messed up. Clothes wrinkled. Tell tale signs of a night of sex and partying. I know. I have been there done that. Like mother like son huh?
When I was 13, my step father died suddenly and unexpectedly in an auto accident. He and another guy were on the interstate when their car was hit head on by a truck. I remember the accident happening on a Thursday. I know it was a Thursday because that was the night that The Cosby show was on TV. I remember my mother coming into the living room asking if he had called. It was about 8:10. I said no. The next time I saw my mother it was 3:30 in the morning and she was crying in the arms of one of the many police officers that had gathered at our apartment. My step father was a cop. So him dying was a big thing. I remember waking to the sounds of people talking. I looked out the window and saw a lot of flashing blue lights. After walking downstairs and seeing my mother, I bolted back upstairs and grabbed my sister and pulled her into bed with me. We buried ourselves under the covers not knowing what was going on downstairs. A few minutes later my grandfather came up the stairs and told me of what happened. I laid there in bed and cried myself to sleep. Looking back, my sister had no clue what was going on. In fact, I don’t remember her shedding a tear about his death until many years later when she was in high school.
My mom was never the same. Drinking, more drugs, more men, more whoring. When I was 17, a senior in high school, my mother mentioned suicide to me. Told me that my sister and I are going to be better off without her around. I remember crying and asking her why as she drove away. A couple hours later, still scared and not knowing what to do, I remember hearing a gun shot. And I remember thinking that was it. My mother took her own life. I curled up in my dark room, in the corner and cried and cried and cried. Sometime later I remember hearing the front door open and close. Running down stairs hoping to see my mom, I was greeted by my sister who was coming home from a friend’s house. Composing myself I didn’t want my sister to see that I had been crying. The next morning, I woke up to the smell of bacon frying. My mom was home. Later that day as she slept, I looked at her gun and there was a bullet missing. My mom had tried killing herself.
My grandfather passed away a week after my first marriage. My first marriage was a disaster. Leading up to the wedding date, my mom tells me she has disowned me, she doesn’t have a son anymore and she will not be attending my wedding. The day of the wedding arrives, I am standing in the back waiting to come out and I peek out to see how many have showed up. Sitting in the front row was my mom and sister. Running out, I hugged her tightly and thanked her for coming. I was a total mess the rest of the night. Bawling my eyes out. Not because she showed up. But because of what she said. Even to this date, when I think about that it makes me cry. Why would a mother say that to her own child? By this point in my life, you would think I would be strong and immune to the shit my mother had put me through. I was 20 years old after all and for 20 years I had put up with mental and emotional abuse from my own mother. Combined with what my uncles did to me, I should be a hardened individual. No, I was still a fucking weakling.
I moved to Lexington 8 years ago in hopes to start a new life and to escape my past. A year later my mother died suddenly and unexpectedly. I got a call saying she had been found unconscious and laying in her own blood. I rushed back home to the hospital to find her laying in a bed with tubes in her and machines keeping her alive. For 8 hours I let the doctors do what they could to help save her. Medicines, central lines but no surgeries. Her health was so bad that she could not make it through a surgery. Mom had told me many many times to never let a machine keep her alive. She stated if she was going to die, then let her die. I did not want to pull the plug. I wanted my mom around. Why I don’t know. When I finally told the doctors no more, this is what mom wanted, inside I was heart broken. But I was also bitter. Bitter because mom was getting what she always wanted. OUT!!! She wanted to die. She wanted to get away from life.
I remember sitting in that chair next to her bed holding her hand. I remember talking to her telling her to go. To be with her husband. To be with grand daddy. I told her I would care for my sister. I told her to just die. Die because I was glad to be rid of her. Then I broke down. I cried for the first time over my mother. I cried. I gave a eulogy at my mother’s funeral. My mother led a life full of lies. Leading up to the funeral I didn’t know what to say. I realized I didn’t know my mother. So what did I do? I lied. When her casket went into the ground and the last shovel of dirt was thrown on. After the attendants from the cemetery had left. After the hearse was gone, after everyone had left, I sat there and cried. I cried because I pulled the plug. I killed my mother. I told her to die. To this day I miss my mother. To this day I am what she has made me. A cold bitter twisted individual. I am my mother.
My mom on the other had was a different story. I didn’t see her much. Nor was she around much to attend social events such as school functions or sports that I played. I always felt I was a burden to my mother. I always felt as if she didn’t want me when she got pregnant at 17. I was always being pawned off on someone. I remember one time we went to one of her friend’s house and they pushed us kids out the door to go play. I remember trying to get back in the house because it had started to rain only to find the doors locked. I went around trying to look in the windows and remember finding one open a little. Before trying to open it, I heard some moaning. I peeked in window and saw my mom and this couple engaged in sex. My mom took me to her 3-way. After wards her and her friends were smoking pot in the presence of the kids. What a great mom I have huh?
My mom remarried when I was 6 and had another kid. I recently found some pictures of me and my baby sister when she was a new born. I remember the house that picture was taken in. I also remember after my sister was born, mom was back to her old whoring ways. I remember her and my step dad fighting all the time. About whom she was fucking. What drugs she was taking. So on. My mom spent too much time partying and fucking others instead of being a mother. I remember one time walking to the bus stop and my mom passing me on her way home from staying out all night partying and fucking. At the time I didn’t know she was fucking, but now that I look back at it, I know she was. Lipstick smeared. Hair all messed up. Clothes wrinkled. Tell tale signs of a night of sex and partying. I know. I have been there done that. Like mother like son huh?
When I was 13, my step father died suddenly and unexpectedly in an auto accident. He and another guy were on the interstate when their car was hit head on by a truck. I remember the accident happening on a Thursday. I know it was a Thursday because that was the night that The Cosby show was on TV. I remember my mother coming into the living room asking if he had called. It was about 8:10. I said no. The next time I saw my mother it was 3:30 in the morning and she was crying in the arms of one of the many police officers that had gathered at our apartment. My step father was a cop. So him dying was a big thing. I remember waking to the sounds of people talking. I looked out the window and saw a lot of flashing blue lights. After walking downstairs and seeing my mother, I bolted back upstairs and grabbed my sister and pulled her into bed with me. We buried ourselves under the covers not knowing what was going on downstairs. A few minutes later my grandfather came up the stairs and told me of what happened. I laid there in bed and cried myself to sleep. Looking back, my sister had no clue what was going on. In fact, I don’t remember her shedding a tear about his death until many years later when she was in high school.
My mom was never the same. Drinking, more drugs, more men, more whoring. When I was 17, a senior in high school, my mother mentioned suicide to me. Told me that my sister and I are going to be better off without her around. I remember crying and asking her why as she drove away. A couple hours later, still scared and not knowing what to do, I remember hearing a gun shot. And I remember thinking that was it. My mother took her own life. I curled up in my dark room, in the corner and cried and cried and cried. Sometime later I remember hearing the front door open and close. Running down stairs hoping to see my mom, I was greeted by my sister who was coming home from a friend’s house. Composing myself I didn’t want my sister to see that I had been crying. The next morning, I woke up to the smell of bacon frying. My mom was home. Later that day as she slept, I looked at her gun and there was a bullet missing. My mom had tried killing herself.
My grandfather passed away a week after my first marriage. My first marriage was a disaster. Leading up to the wedding date, my mom tells me she has disowned me, she doesn’t have a son anymore and she will not be attending my wedding. The day of the wedding arrives, I am standing in the back waiting to come out and I peek out to see how many have showed up. Sitting in the front row was my mom and sister. Running out, I hugged her tightly and thanked her for coming. I was a total mess the rest of the night. Bawling my eyes out. Not because she showed up. But because of what she said. Even to this date, when I think about that it makes me cry. Why would a mother say that to her own child? By this point in my life, you would think I would be strong and immune to the shit my mother had put me through. I was 20 years old after all and for 20 years I had put up with mental and emotional abuse from my own mother. Combined with what my uncles did to me, I should be a hardened individual. No, I was still a fucking weakling.
I moved to Lexington 8 years ago in hopes to start a new life and to escape my past. A year later my mother died suddenly and unexpectedly. I got a call saying she had been found unconscious and laying in her own blood. I rushed back home to the hospital to find her laying in a bed with tubes in her and machines keeping her alive. For 8 hours I let the doctors do what they could to help save her. Medicines, central lines but no surgeries. Her health was so bad that she could not make it through a surgery. Mom had told me many many times to never let a machine keep her alive. She stated if she was going to die, then let her die. I did not want to pull the plug. I wanted my mom around. Why I don’t know. When I finally told the doctors no more, this is what mom wanted, inside I was heart broken. But I was also bitter. Bitter because mom was getting what she always wanted. OUT!!! She wanted to die. She wanted to get away from life.
I remember sitting in that chair next to her bed holding her hand. I remember talking to her telling her to go. To be with her husband. To be with grand daddy. I told her I would care for my sister. I told her to just die. Die because I was glad to be rid of her. Then I broke down. I cried for the first time over my mother. I cried. I gave a eulogy at my mother’s funeral. My mother led a life full of lies. Leading up to the funeral I didn’t know what to say. I realized I didn’t know my mother. So what did I do? I lied. When her casket went into the ground and the last shovel of dirt was thrown on. After the attendants from the cemetery had left. After the hearse was gone, after everyone had left, I sat there and cried. I cried because I pulled the plug. I killed my mother. I told her to die. To this day I miss my mother. To this day I am what she has made me. A cold bitter twisted individual. I am my mother.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Personal's websites
Right now I have a million thoughts running through my head. And if I took the time to type out those million thoughts, I would be typing for a few weeks, possibly longer as I am sure that these million thoughts will generate more thoughts thus creating a non-stop ever lasting thought on anything and everything, random or not, meaningless or with meaning thought that goes through my mind. Here is a bit of a fact for you. If you can count from 1 to 100 in one minute, and you keep counting every minute, without stopping, for eight hours every day (taking time off to eat, sleep, and go to school, work etc), you would reach 1,000,000 in 20 days, 6 hours, and 40 minutes, or almost 3 weeks. If, however, you give up eating, sleeping, school/work, sex, masturbation, flogging, beating, binding, teasing, tormenting, mind fucking, and just count every minute of every hour of every day, you would reach 1,000,000 in 6 days, 22 hours, and 40 minutes, almost 1 week. That’s a lot of freaking counting non-stop. So, I think I will just narrow my thoughts to a few things and write about them.
One thought in particular that has been on my mind sometime is the inevitable search for my next victim. I mean a submissive. Yea, a submissive, that’s what I meant to say. One place in particular you can search for a Dominant, submissive, Sadist or masochist etc is online via websites that offer people to log in, register and create a profile in hopes of finding someone to share their “kink” with. YEA RIGHT!!!! I have come to the conclusion that those web sites are just another place for a lot of people to hide behind a screen and be a wanna-be. Notice I said “A LOT” of people.
There are a lot of people on those sites. But yet there are a lot who are taken. Well if you are fucking taken, collared or have met someone and want to see how things work out, then not only should you hide your profile, but stay off the fucking site. Most of these web sites track and tell others when you were last signed on, or signed on now. Here is an excuse I hear when I question why they are on that site if they are taken. “Well, I have friends on here.” Please. Do I look fucking stupid to you? What gripes my ass is the lies people tell. I am a grown man. If you can not be fucking honest with me and tell me the truth, then don’t even fucking bother speaking to me. Be a fucking adult and be honest. If you don’t like me, then tell me. If you just want to hide behind a monitor and role play then say so.
Of course those sites will always have the “professionals”. Meaning you have to pay to play. And I don’t have a problem with that. If you can find some poor sap to pay for play, then more power to you. Some people make it a full time living doing it. However, I have fears behind that. Not so much the part of getting in trouble with the law, or doing anything illegal. My fear is relying on someone who seeks to pay to have their ass spanked. To be the one who gets paid is not a guaranteed income. You are relying on that person to have the time and/or money to pay you to satisfy their kink, whatever it may be. More power to you. Good luck with that. Hope you become filthy rich.
Now don’t get me wrong. I have met, chatted even played with a few people from these sites. And there are a few who are true and genuine. If I had to guess, I would say that 70-80% of the people on these sites shouldn’t be on there. Yes I know that’s a high number. But it is what it is. I have learned to deal with it. I might not like it, but I can choose to ignore them and I do. I saw in the paper recently about a man who was arrested for child pornography. This man had some 60 different email accounts, about a dozen different facebook pages and who knows how many personal ads on websites. Holy shit. See what I mean? How in the fuck do you manage 60 email accounts? That just shows the length people will go to, shows how desperate they are and how they lack a social life. I admit, I have a few email accounts. One is vanilla. One is kink. And the third is work. But 60????
Bottom line is why lie? Why be dishonest? What are you trying to accomplish? All you are doing is creating a future problem for yourself. Sooner or later, everyone can see through the lies and deceit. Some are sooner. Some are later. But it does happen.
Me
I will inflict the pain, but I will kiss away the tears.
One thought in particular that has been on my mind sometime is the inevitable search for my next victim. I mean a submissive. Yea, a submissive, that’s what I meant to say. One place in particular you can search for a Dominant, submissive, Sadist or masochist etc is online via websites that offer people to log in, register and create a profile in hopes of finding someone to share their “kink” with. YEA RIGHT!!!! I have come to the conclusion that those web sites are just another place for a lot of people to hide behind a screen and be a wanna-be. Notice I said “A LOT” of people.
There are a lot of people on those sites. But yet there are a lot who are taken. Well if you are fucking taken, collared or have met someone and want to see how things work out, then not only should you hide your profile, but stay off the fucking site. Most of these web sites track and tell others when you were last signed on, or signed on now. Here is an excuse I hear when I question why they are on that site if they are taken. “Well, I have friends on here.” Please. Do I look fucking stupid to you? What gripes my ass is the lies people tell. I am a grown man. If you can not be fucking honest with me and tell me the truth, then don’t even fucking bother speaking to me. Be a fucking adult and be honest. If you don’t like me, then tell me. If you just want to hide behind a monitor and role play then say so.
Of course those sites will always have the “professionals”. Meaning you have to pay to play. And I don’t have a problem with that. If you can find some poor sap to pay for play, then more power to you. Some people make it a full time living doing it. However, I have fears behind that. Not so much the part of getting in trouble with the law, or doing anything illegal. My fear is relying on someone who seeks to pay to have their ass spanked. To be the one who gets paid is not a guaranteed income. You are relying on that person to have the time and/or money to pay you to satisfy their kink, whatever it may be. More power to you. Good luck with that. Hope you become filthy rich.
Now don’t get me wrong. I have met, chatted even played with a few people from these sites. And there are a few who are true and genuine. If I had to guess, I would say that 70-80% of the people on these sites shouldn’t be on there. Yes I know that’s a high number. But it is what it is. I have learned to deal with it. I might not like it, but I can choose to ignore them and I do. I saw in the paper recently about a man who was arrested for child pornography. This man had some 60 different email accounts, about a dozen different facebook pages and who knows how many personal ads on websites. Holy shit. See what I mean? How in the fuck do you manage 60 email accounts? That just shows the length people will go to, shows how desperate they are and how they lack a social life. I admit, I have a few email accounts. One is vanilla. One is kink. And the third is work. But 60????
Bottom line is why lie? Why be dishonest? What are you trying to accomplish? All you are doing is creating a future problem for yourself. Sooner or later, everyone can see through the lies and deceit. Some are sooner. Some are later. But it does happen.
Me
I will inflict the pain, but I will kiss away the tears.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Do you have a dark scene???
What is your deep dark fantasy? No, not that fantasy. I mean DARK!!!. Come on. I know you want to say it. No need to be ashamed of it. One in particular I am talking about is rape. I know this is a touchy subject. If you don’t want to read about it, simply click the little white X in the little red box in the upper right corner of the screen. GOOD BYE!!!
For those of you who have chosen not to click the X, then please, enjoy my thoughts and comment if you wish. I have come across a lot of people in this lifestyle. And many of those brains I have been allowed to pick, question and climb inside of. One thing that I hear about often is the fact that there are a lot of thoughts, fantasies and even acts of rape within this lifestyle. What is somewhat shocking to me is to learn of how many people have been actually raped against their will, yet they still participate in this lifestyle. Let me expand on that statement. Rape can be brutal. Rape can be an act of violence. Violence so brutal that it not only will leave you emotionally and mentally scared, but also physically scared. Some people have experienced rape like this yet they still actively practice this lifestyle. This is a lifestyle of control or lack of. A submissive giving up control, allowing one self to have things done to them such as being bound up, flogged, spanked, given to someone else…. etc, but has been raped against their will before. I have never been raped. So maybe it is unfair of me to make any statement about rape.
Before I go on, I want to clarify my thoughts and feelings here. Society as a whole thrives on violence. Some legal and some illegal. Legal violence such as boxing, ultimate fighting, football etc. Illegal violence such as dog fights, cock fighting etc. The movie and television industry make a lot of money off of violence. Every day you turn on the news and they are talking about violence somewhere. What pushes people to act out in a violent way is something a lot of us will never understand. I am a man. Full of testosterone. I admit, violence can be exciting to me. Watching a football game, or boxing, I always find myself excited over a big hit or a knock out blow. But violence in the way that some one is maimed and physically harmed is different.
If you sense a little struggle here, you are right. I am struggling to express myself in a manner that I don’t contradict myself. I have never actually raped someone unwillingly. But I have raped in a scene. This brings me to the reason of this blog. I have a friend that I met recently who is local AND in the lifestyle. She is very easy to talk with. We share a lot of the same views, we disagree on some. Recently she expressed to me she has a rape fantasy. We have discussed it in some length and she has asked me (well I volunteer her and I) to play out a rape scene. We discussed limits, which only a few were set. No broken bones or death. DUH!!!. Next she asked the question, “How will it happen? What will happen? When will it happen?” I told her you can not script this. In order to have the full affect of a rape, I feel you can not script it. You have to allow things to develop as they happen.
The other day after we had discussed it, we were having a conversation. One thing lead to another and the next thing you know, I showed up at her house unannounced, uninvited (I think I have an open invitation as long as parameters are adhered to) and totally unexpected. She first jumped out of her skin when she saw me. Good, get her on edge to start with. Grabbing her by her shirt and dragging her to her bedroom, I threw her down on her bed and got within inches of her face and began to scream and yell at her for telling me “NO” to something she was instructed to do by yours truly. Slapping her face a couple of times, more verbal abuse, I went to slap her once more and she reached out and attempted to grab my hand. This added to the moment. Grabbing her shirt, ripping it from her body, I twisted her nipple hard, flipping her over, slapping her ass hard, more verbal abuse then just as abruptly as I entered, I was gone. Leaving her in a state of arousal, of fear, yet wanting more more more.
I did this for a couple of reasons. One of course because I thrive on seeing people struggle like that. I love fucking with people’s minds. I love keeping them guessing. The look in her eyes. The way her body was so afraid yet aroused. Oh the thrill of power. The excitement of having some one exactly where I want them. Oh yes, what a rush. But I also did this to “test the waters” with her. I wanted to see if she would be able to handle moving forward. Give her a little taste of what could happen. And she loved it. She wants more. She is afraid of the scene, yet she is so turned on by the scene she is WANTS it. NEEDS it. CRAVES it. I don’t claim to be an expert on rape. I just feel like I can help someone live out a rape fantasy. I mean after all, I did stay at a Holiday Inn once.
Bottom line is this. Some people seek fear. Either giving or receiving. A rape scene is another way of expressing fear. Some seek it. Some have lived it. Some are afraid of it. Either way, rape is a brutal act. Either willingly or unwillingly. Rape is brutal.
Me
I will inflict the pain, but I will kiss away the tears.
For those of you who have chosen not to click the X, then please, enjoy my thoughts and comment if you wish. I have come across a lot of people in this lifestyle. And many of those brains I have been allowed to pick, question and climb inside of. One thing that I hear about often is the fact that there are a lot of thoughts, fantasies and even acts of rape within this lifestyle. What is somewhat shocking to me is to learn of how many people have been actually raped against their will, yet they still participate in this lifestyle. Let me expand on that statement. Rape can be brutal. Rape can be an act of violence. Violence so brutal that it not only will leave you emotionally and mentally scared, but also physically scared. Some people have experienced rape like this yet they still actively practice this lifestyle. This is a lifestyle of control or lack of. A submissive giving up control, allowing one self to have things done to them such as being bound up, flogged, spanked, given to someone else…. etc, but has been raped against their will before. I have never been raped. So maybe it is unfair of me to make any statement about rape.
Before I go on, I want to clarify my thoughts and feelings here. Society as a whole thrives on violence. Some legal and some illegal. Legal violence such as boxing, ultimate fighting, football etc. Illegal violence such as dog fights, cock fighting etc. The movie and television industry make a lot of money off of violence. Every day you turn on the news and they are talking about violence somewhere. What pushes people to act out in a violent way is something a lot of us will never understand. I am a man. Full of testosterone. I admit, violence can be exciting to me. Watching a football game, or boxing, I always find myself excited over a big hit or a knock out blow. But violence in the way that some one is maimed and physically harmed is different.
If you sense a little struggle here, you are right. I am struggling to express myself in a manner that I don’t contradict myself. I have never actually raped someone unwillingly. But I have raped in a scene. This brings me to the reason of this blog. I have a friend that I met recently who is local AND in the lifestyle. She is very easy to talk with. We share a lot of the same views, we disagree on some. Recently she expressed to me she has a rape fantasy. We have discussed it in some length and she has asked me (well I volunteer her and I) to play out a rape scene. We discussed limits, which only a few were set. No broken bones or death. DUH!!!. Next she asked the question, “How will it happen? What will happen? When will it happen?” I told her you can not script this. In order to have the full affect of a rape, I feel you can not script it. You have to allow things to develop as they happen.
The other day after we had discussed it, we were having a conversation. One thing lead to another and the next thing you know, I showed up at her house unannounced, uninvited (I think I have an open invitation as long as parameters are adhered to) and totally unexpected. She first jumped out of her skin when she saw me. Good, get her on edge to start with. Grabbing her by her shirt and dragging her to her bedroom, I threw her down on her bed and got within inches of her face and began to scream and yell at her for telling me “NO” to something she was instructed to do by yours truly. Slapping her face a couple of times, more verbal abuse, I went to slap her once more and she reached out and attempted to grab my hand. This added to the moment. Grabbing her shirt, ripping it from her body, I twisted her nipple hard, flipping her over, slapping her ass hard, more verbal abuse then just as abruptly as I entered, I was gone. Leaving her in a state of arousal, of fear, yet wanting more more more.
I did this for a couple of reasons. One of course because I thrive on seeing people struggle like that. I love fucking with people’s minds. I love keeping them guessing. The look in her eyes. The way her body was so afraid yet aroused. Oh the thrill of power. The excitement of having some one exactly where I want them. Oh yes, what a rush. But I also did this to “test the waters” with her. I wanted to see if she would be able to handle moving forward. Give her a little taste of what could happen. And she loved it. She wants more. She is afraid of the scene, yet she is so turned on by the scene she is WANTS it. NEEDS it. CRAVES it. I don’t claim to be an expert on rape. I just feel like I can help someone live out a rape fantasy. I mean after all, I did stay at a Holiday Inn once.
Bottom line is this. Some people seek fear. Either giving or receiving. A rape scene is another way of expressing fear. Some seek it. Some have lived it. Some are afraid of it. Either way, rape is a brutal act. Either willingly or unwillingly. Rape is brutal.
Me
I will inflict the pain, but I will kiss away the tears.
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Following instructions
I wish I had more time to do more of the things I want to do. Like spank some bare assed slut that is lying across my lap. Or bind one up in leather and rope, and swing my flogger until my arms are sore. How about a blindfolded subbie, standing before me without being bound, arms to her side and naked with instructions to not move as I tease her skin with the tip of my knife? Better then that, arms behind her head, elbows up, legs spread and using a crop to spank her cunt. Nothing like adding more swats every time she flinches, her toes curl or when she bites her bottom lip. What part of DO NOT MOVE do you no understand? What the fuck is wrong with people who do not listen and follow simple god damned instructions?
I’m really not an asshole. I just play one on TV. I tend to be a nice guy. Understanding, caring, compassionate and patience. All I ever ask for is patience, attention to detail and follow orders. Is that too much to ask for? When you choose to not follow simple instructions and do as you’re instructed, then it upsets me. Not raging mad, throwing shit, cursing, stomping, and punching walls mad. But frustrated mad.
Just the other day I had to visit with a co-worker and go over their job duties, expectations and pay attention to details for the millionth time. You think I am joking but I am being serious. This conversation comes just 4 days (a weekend included) after we had had the conversation for the 999,999th time. And guess what??? AGAIN yesterday. I have a saying for that. CUNT. Can’t Understand Normal Thinking. Of I am always saying FOCUS. Fuck Off Cause Ur Stupid. Seriously, we are grown adults working in a professional environment and yet they can not follow simple instructions for their daily job duties.
I have learned over time that if I am going to give someone instructions on what to do, I will give you exact instructions. If I ask you to sweep the floor, I will tell you to go to the hall closet, get the broom out, hold it in your hand and make a sweeping motion on the floor starting in the furthest corner and sweep everything in the same direction to one point on the opposite side of the room into a pile then take the dust pan, hold it at an angle to the floor and sweep said filth into the pan, then holding the pan in a matter to keep from spilling the contents, take the pan to the nearest garbage can and dump said contents into the trash can. Simple instructions? I thought so too.
So then why do adults still not follow these simple directions and do it a different way or forget to do certain critical parts of the instruction like hold the pan to keep the contents from spilling until you get to a trashcan? Very frustrating. You get the point I am trying to make. If you don’t, then FOCUS.
My final thought on this is open your ears and shut your mouth. Listen, understand and do as instructed. It is not that difficult.
Me
I will inflict the pain, but I will kiss away the tears.
I’m really not an asshole. I just play one on TV. I tend to be a nice guy. Understanding, caring, compassionate and patience. All I ever ask for is patience, attention to detail and follow orders. Is that too much to ask for? When you choose to not follow simple instructions and do as you’re instructed, then it upsets me. Not raging mad, throwing shit, cursing, stomping, and punching walls mad. But frustrated mad.
Just the other day I had to visit with a co-worker and go over their job duties, expectations and pay attention to details for the millionth time. You think I am joking but I am being serious. This conversation comes just 4 days (a weekend included) after we had had the conversation for the 999,999th time. And guess what??? AGAIN yesterday. I have a saying for that. CUNT. Can’t Understand Normal Thinking. Of I am always saying FOCUS. Fuck Off Cause Ur Stupid. Seriously, we are grown adults working in a professional environment and yet they can not follow simple instructions for their daily job duties.
I have learned over time that if I am going to give someone instructions on what to do, I will give you exact instructions. If I ask you to sweep the floor, I will tell you to go to the hall closet, get the broom out, hold it in your hand and make a sweeping motion on the floor starting in the furthest corner and sweep everything in the same direction to one point on the opposite side of the room into a pile then take the dust pan, hold it at an angle to the floor and sweep said filth into the pan, then holding the pan in a matter to keep from spilling the contents, take the pan to the nearest garbage can and dump said contents into the trash can. Simple instructions? I thought so too.
So then why do adults still not follow these simple directions and do it a different way or forget to do certain critical parts of the instruction like hold the pan to keep the contents from spilling until you get to a trashcan? Very frustrating. You get the point I am trying to make. If you don’t, then FOCUS.
My final thought on this is open your ears and shut your mouth. Listen, understand and do as instructed. It is not that difficult.
Me
I will inflict the pain, but I will kiss away the tears.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
C O M M U N I C A T I O N ! ! ! ! ! ! !
Who holds the power? I do damn it. No? Some of you disagree? You mean to tell me I do NOT hold the power?
Seriously, who does hold the power? A submissive or bottom does. How so? Because they have a right to a safe word and to say stop or go. A Dominant simples’ carry out as instructed. WAIT!!!! Before you Dom’s who read this get your panties in a wad, let me go into more depth. Sheesh!!!
A submissive has the right to set limits, have a safe word and the right to say no. If you do NOT believe this, then stop reading right fucking now and click the red X in the upper right corner and get the fuck out of my blog you fucking candy ass pansy motherfucker. YOU are one of the abuser’s who give the rest of us true and genuine Dom’s a bad name and make it so fucking hard on us to find a submissive who needs someone like us. Where the fuck was I? Oh yes, a submissive has the power in a Dom/sub relationship.
Think about it. If you are “playing” with a submissive and they use their safe word, you are required by law, punishable under section 69, subsection 1234, paragraph ouch in the Dominants log star dated 41876453. Don’t believe me? Look it up. While you are at it, will you please water my money tree as you walk by? Thanks.
Ok, now on to the real education here. As a Dom/sub couple, you the Dominant should know that and practice safe words. Are they always used? No. But you should always have one. No if ands or ghetto butts about it. If you are a GOOD Dom, your submissive should never have to use it. IF you are a GREAT Dom, then you should be able to push your submissive right to the point of a safe word and back off. How else are you going to reach that inevitable peak of endorphin high if you do not? Both for you and your submissive.
The key to any and all of this is communication and honesty. I always want to talk about things. And many times I always get the “I do not cyber, do phone sex nor am I here to let you get off while I am talking about doing these things.” Get the fuck over yourself. I want to talk about and discuss these things to understand your head and how it processes information. What you are thinking during a scene. What emotions you are going through. So on and so forth. Am I going to get a hard on while having this discussion? I always do. But I will save that for the subbie to take care of, if it is a part of our scene we have discussed before hand. DAMN IT!!! Didn’t I just say communication and honesty are very important? Pay attention.
I always allow a submissive to tell me their limits. Tell me their wants and desires. Tell me the do’s and don’ts I might tweak what they say and give them for instances to clarify what they are saying or to open their eyes to a different avenue for them to explore. I have yet to have one tell me to get lost once I have explained my intentions of discussing past experiences. That is the ones who have let me explain it.
I always seek out a submissive who can and will talk openly and honestly. The ones who stay quite, keep their mouth shut and continue to be a “yes” subbie are more of a turn off then one who presents a challenge mentally for me. It is more of a turn on to have a submissive who will openly discuss and communicate with me.
Bottom line is this. Without communication and honesty there is no hope in sight for you. Communicate. Be open and honest. Be understanding. If you can exercise the patience and adopt these simple rules, you will enjoy some great times with one another. Other wise, call yourself a slave and be a fucking doormat. And I don’t want to hear you fucking complain one time about it when you are treated that way.
Me
I will inflict the pain, but I will kiss away the tears.
Seriously, who does hold the power? A submissive or bottom does. How so? Because they have a right to a safe word and to say stop or go. A Dominant simples’ carry out as instructed. WAIT!!!! Before you Dom’s who read this get your panties in a wad, let me go into more depth. Sheesh!!!
A submissive has the right to set limits, have a safe word and the right to say no. If you do NOT believe this, then stop reading right fucking now and click the red X in the upper right corner and get the fuck out of my blog you fucking candy ass pansy motherfucker. YOU are one of the abuser’s who give the rest of us true and genuine Dom’s a bad name and make it so fucking hard on us to find a submissive who needs someone like us. Where the fuck was I? Oh yes, a submissive has the power in a Dom/sub relationship.
Think about it. If you are “playing” with a submissive and they use their safe word, you are required by law, punishable under section 69, subsection 1234, paragraph ouch in the Dominants log star dated 41876453. Don’t believe me? Look it up. While you are at it, will you please water my money tree as you walk by? Thanks.
Ok, now on to the real education here. As a Dom/sub couple, you the Dominant should know that and practice safe words. Are they always used? No. But you should always have one. No if ands or ghetto butts about it. If you are a GOOD Dom, your submissive should never have to use it. IF you are a GREAT Dom, then you should be able to push your submissive right to the point of a safe word and back off. How else are you going to reach that inevitable peak of endorphin high if you do not? Both for you and your submissive.
The key to any and all of this is communication and honesty. I always want to talk about things. And many times I always get the “I do not cyber, do phone sex nor am I here to let you get off while I am talking about doing these things.” Get the fuck over yourself. I want to talk about and discuss these things to understand your head and how it processes information. What you are thinking during a scene. What emotions you are going through. So on and so forth. Am I going to get a hard on while having this discussion? I always do. But I will save that for the subbie to take care of, if it is a part of our scene we have discussed before hand. DAMN IT!!! Didn’t I just say communication and honesty are very important? Pay attention.
I always allow a submissive to tell me their limits. Tell me their wants and desires. Tell me the do’s and don’ts I might tweak what they say and give them for instances to clarify what they are saying or to open their eyes to a different avenue for them to explore. I have yet to have one tell me to get lost once I have explained my intentions of discussing past experiences. That is the ones who have let me explain it.
I always seek out a submissive who can and will talk openly and honestly. The ones who stay quite, keep their mouth shut and continue to be a “yes” subbie are more of a turn off then one who presents a challenge mentally for me. It is more of a turn on to have a submissive who will openly discuss and communicate with me.
Bottom line is this. Without communication and honesty there is no hope in sight for you. Communicate. Be open and honest. Be understanding. If you can exercise the patience and adopt these simple rules, you will enjoy some great times with one another. Other wise, call yourself a slave and be a fucking doormat. And I don’t want to hear you fucking complain one time about it when you are treated that way.
Me
I will inflict the pain, but I will kiss away the tears.
Did you just fart?
I have to comment on something I read this morning. I saw where a submissive asked if anyone had ever experienced someone passing gas in the middle of a scene? Imagine a submissive over my knee, I am spanking her and suddenly she farts. How would I react? Would I laugh? Would I be grossed out? Would I scream a safe word? Is farting considered part of scat?
Well, a couple of thoughts on this. First reaction. IF a submissive should happen to pass gas, break wind, fart, expel flatulence... How would I react? Once I got over the initial shock, I would probably blister that ass. Grab a good handful of hair, snap that head back and spank that ass until my hand went numb. Farting is one thing. I can even tolerate a fart if we are spooning and I get a pseudo blowjob from it. But farting literally in my face? OH FUCK NO!!!!! The only thing that would save you from that is if you caused me to pass out there on the spot. Other wise I will show no mercy on your ass. You have heard of Fist's of Fury? Well it will be spanks o' plenty. My hand would work in such a blur that even slow motion photography would not be able to slow my hand down enough to be able to count. I would get in a hundred swats before your brain would even register that I have slapped your ass once. The time it takes that nerve to fire a message to your brain from your ass is long enough for me to get in a 1000 swats. Think I am kidding? Who wants to be the first to try and fart in my face? Anyone brave enough to test me and find out?
I know I am just as guilty as anyone else, maybe even more guilty of farting. What human does not fart. We ALL do. Even as a little kid when my mother tried to blame the dog when she farted, I KNEW she did it. One time she did it and blamed the dog. Only I shot back and said the dog is outside. The response then was, do not sass me followed by a back hand to the face. Or what about my grandmother who coughs when she farts to hide it. Although sometimes I wonder if she farts when she IS coughing. Instead of a "fartcoughcough" it is a "coughfartcoughcoughfartcough". Either way we ALL do it. I seem to fart more when I have been drinking a fair amount of beer. Hey, I need another beer. What!?! Out of beer? How many have we had? 2, 3, 30??? Anyhow, point being we all fart. Admit it or not. We do it.
Could it happen? Possibly. Hell, I think there has been once or twice that I had to suppress a fart while getting a blowjob. Would I blast away while you were down there? Probably not, unless you were into humiliation and then well, all bets are off. HOLY COW, I JUST FARTED IN YOUR FACE BITCH. HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT?!?!!
Seriously though, I think the way the human body reacts to erotic stimulation would prevent that from happening. Your brain and body is going to be more focused on how you feel at that point. If your stomach fires a message to your brain saying "HEY I NEED TO FART" your brain is going to click ignore on the stomach and say not now, I am trying to re-route all nerve activity from the ass to ease the pain. Besides, right now the asshole is so clenched up, there is nothing that is going to be going out let alone coming in through there. So, this is your brain telling you, stomach, to shut the fuck up. But then again it has not happened to me, and to my knowledge no one has gotten close enough to cutting one loose. And no I am not interested in experiencing it either.
My final thought is this. We all are different inside and out. We might say we are a like, but truthfully we are all different. I would gladly have this conversation with someone who has vast knowledge of the human body. But I would rely more on actual real time, real world experiences to form an opinion on it. Just don't try to pass gas on me.
Me
I will inflict the pain, but I will kiss away the tears.
Well, a couple of thoughts on this. First reaction. IF a submissive should happen to pass gas, break wind, fart, expel flatulence... How would I react? Once I got over the initial shock, I would probably blister that ass. Grab a good handful of hair, snap that head back and spank that ass until my hand went numb. Farting is one thing. I can even tolerate a fart if we are spooning and I get a pseudo blowjob from it. But farting literally in my face? OH FUCK NO!!!!! The only thing that would save you from that is if you caused me to pass out there on the spot. Other wise I will show no mercy on your ass. You have heard of Fist's of Fury? Well it will be spanks o' plenty. My hand would work in such a blur that even slow motion photography would not be able to slow my hand down enough to be able to count. I would get in a hundred swats before your brain would even register that I have slapped your ass once. The time it takes that nerve to fire a message to your brain from your ass is long enough for me to get in a 1000 swats. Think I am kidding? Who wants to be the first to try and fart in my face? Anyone brave enough to test me and find out?
I know I am just as guilty as anyone else, maybe even more guilty of farting. What human does not fart. We ALL do. Even as a little kid when my mother tried to blame the dog when she farted, I KNEW she did it. One time she did it and blamed the dog. Only I shot back and said the dog is outside. The response then was, do not sass me followed by a back hand to the face. Or what about my grandmother who coughs when she farts to hide it. Although sometimes I wonder if she farts when she IS coughing. Instead of a "fartcoughcough" it is a "coughfartcoughcoughfartcough". Either way we ALL do it. I seem to fart more when I have been drinking a fair amount of beer. Hey, I need another beer. What!?! Out of beer? How many have we had? 2, 3, 30??? Anyhow, point being we all fart. Admit it or not. We do it.
Could it happen? Possibly. Hell, I think there has been once or twice that I had to suppress a fart while getting a blowjob. Would I blast away while you were down there? Probably not, unless you were into humiliation and then well, all bets are off. HOLY COW, I JUST FARTED IN YOUR FACE BITCH. HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT?!?!!
Seriously though, I think the way the human body reacts to erotic stimulation would prevent that from happening. Your brain and body is going to be more focused on how you feel at that point. If your stomach fires a message to your brain saying "HEY I NEED TO FART" your brain is going to click ignore on the stomach and say not now, I am trying to re-route all nerve activity from the ass to ease the pain. Besides, right now the asshole is so clenched up, there is nothing that is going to be going out let alone coming in through there. So, this is your brain telling you, stomach, to shut the fuck up. But then again it has not happened to me, and to my knowledge no one has gotten close enough to cutting one loose. And no I am not interested in experiencing it either.
My final thought is this. We all are different inside and out. We might say we are a like, but truthfully we are all different. I would gladly have this conversation with someone who has vast knowledge of the human body. But I would rely more on actual real time, real world experiences to form an opinion on it. Just don't try to pass gas on me.
Me
I will inflict the pain, but I will kiss away the tears.
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