March Madness: Fran Gerard, Miss March 1967

I was fortunate enough to stumble over the entire original layout and spread of the Playboy issue featuring the very lovely and very talented Ms. Fran Gerard, Miss March 1967.

Photographed by Mario Casilli and Gene Trindl. (Color work by Casilli, B&W shots by Trindl, according to the orig. spread’s credits)

We predict a sparkling future for our heavenly-bodied Miss March. Generously configured Fran Gerard is a girl for the stars. “We’re forever searching the cosmos for new meanings.” (“Stars In Her Eyes,” Playboy, March 1967.)

The specs-sporting young Ms. Gerard worked as an astrologer’s assistant (zodiac quackery rears its head AGAIN) in L.A. at the time of her appearance, so they made a big deal out of that.

But the main thing of her is that she is tied right up there with Janet Lupo, Cynthia Myers, etc, for the largest natural breasts ever to be featured in Playboy.

As it was quite sometime before Janet, Cyndi, Roberta Vasquez, Alana Soares, et al came along to potentially unseat Ms. Gerard as undisputed mammary queen (I am not bothering to list the silicone sweethearts whose plastic racks match the numbers in name only and never rate so high in the eyes of the lord), she has understandably enjoyed long-lasting and tremendous fame in the Playboy world.

A “little looker,” her Playmate data sheet reports she was just 5′2″ tall at the time of her appearance in the magazine at age 21. Holy chumbuckets, I cannot even imagine the back trouble the girl had to have had by age 30. Sorry if that deglamourizes things, but dang. That’s some serious rackage to haul around for a chick that only weighed around 110.

More than just a pretty face hovering over likely-uncomfortably-giant knockers, Ms. Gerard was a genuinely swingin’ chick with a good head on her small shoulders. And great taste in music!

Our plenipotent Playmate is as versant with combos as with cosmos: “Charlie Parker’s ‘Ornithology’ was the greatest single ever made,” says Fran, “and I think E.S.P. by Miles Davis is the best LP.” Sinatra is her favorite singer, especially “Cottage for Sale.” (Ibid.)

She says, “[I] like artists Marc Chagall and Salvador Dali. They capture so much of the glory of the universe in their work, but I don’t think I’m being stuffy: I like ‘Batman,’ too!” (Ibid.)

“Batman”? Heyoooo! Actually, I have also always liked Chagall’s work, especially this one piece he did that told a Russian folk tale, if I’m remembering rightly… Maybe later this week I’ll throw up some stuff about him.

Fran credits another favorite, a book, with being the source of all this happiness and satisfaction. “It’s The Magic of Believing by C. M. Bristol. It helps you to think positively.” (Ibid.)

Fran’s favorite book is still in print. It is also available for purchase as an ebook. Here’s an excerpt from the first few paragraphs:Is there some force, or factor, or power, or science—call it what you will—which a few people understand and use to overcome their difficulties and achieve outstanding success? I firmly believe that there is, and it is my purpose in this book to try to explain it so that you can use it if you desire.

Around 1933 the financial editor of a great Los Angeles newspaper attended lectures I gave to financial men in that city and read my brochure T.N.T.—It Rocks the Earth. Afterwards, he wrote, “You have caught from the ether something that has a mystical quality—a something that explains the magic of coincidence, the mystery of what makes men lucky.”

(source, and please do not consider the link an endorsement)

Wow, what is amazing about that is it could have been written, like, yesterday, except replace “1933″ in the suspiciously specious and detail-lacking anecdote with “2003.” I did not think people were marketing murky bullshit that long ago, but I live to be surprised. I should’ve known, I suppose, given all the snake oil salesmen and shenaniganizers who’ve always walked this earth conning money out of suckers. Like the rightly revered Msr. Barnum observed, there is one born every minute.

I think I will try my hand at tossing off a few sentences. A few years ago, I was addressing a colony of junebugs at an annual meeting. After the meeting, a junebug who had just been raised to upper hive-management approached me and invited me to have a drink. He told me that he had seen me speak at a junebug team-building conference near an abandoned swingset only six months earlier, and had returned to his nest eager to apply the Simple Principles that I teach. Within just a few months, he had already been promoted above his boss and was handling new junebug regions of management!

Like so many countless others that I have been happy to help, this junebug told me in that hotel bar that he would have never believed the success and accomplishments he would achieve in such a short time just by following these three simple steps to harnessing the power of YOUR potential to do Great Things!

(E., Right Here, Right Now.)

How did that sound? Would you buy my shit? No? I’m huge in junebug circles, picking up sales in bee hives, and keep it between us but I think I’m about to crack the highly elusive ladybug market. (What I am saying is that I think this is all fishsticks and curried potatoes, this malarkey. Positive thinking is very powerful, yes, and important to your overall well-being, but so is hustling your buns to earn a simple living and have rich relationships with loved ones rather than sucking down cultish nonsense like coca-cola and craving weird amounts of power through ESP. Mad love and respect to Ms. Gerard, but come on.)

I think this is the best shot of the lot.

The positively smashing Miss Gerard’s idea of a perfect man? Clark Gable. “Remember him as Rhett Butler in Gone with the Wind? He was too much,” says Fran appreciatively. (“Stars In Her Eyes.”)

Yes, I particularly enjoyed the scene where he got ten kinds of drunk and told Scarlett he was going to crush her head like a walnut, slapped her around a little, and then took her upstairs for some rough sex. You’re probably thinking that is some feminist, critical statement mired in sarcasm: you are sadly wrong. I’m messed up I guess, but I think that saucy Scarlett needs slapped around pretty much every goddamned minute of the day and Rhett was born for the job. They are a nasty, scheming, firey-eyed match made in hell and I think it makes an excellent and exciting love story, in a very dark and ugly way for which it seldom gets credit. So, today I say to you, Margaret Mitchell: Well done, sir.

The man who did the b&w work for this spread, Gene Trindl, was best known as a photographer for TV Guide. He shot over 800 spreads for them, and 200 covers. Dang, right? He died of pancreatic cancer June 29, 2004, two years after my cousin Tom and thirty-seven years after Jayne Mansfield. RIP, Mr. Trendl.

TURN-ONS: High fashion, antiques.

TURNOFFS: Arrogance, people and their trivial problems.

(Playmate datasheet.)

Um … you hate arrogance, but you also hate people and their “trivial problems”? Okay. The kettle called … said something about how you are the black one? No need to call back.

DID YOU KNOW? I’m an assistant to astrologer Jack Gemini.

PEOPLE I ADMIRE: My parents, for the great job they did raising me.

FAVORITE MUSIC: Jazz.

(Ibid.)

I have googled the crap out of Jack Gemini, John Gemini, LA Astrologers in the 1960’s, and am coming up triple goose eggs. If you got a line on him, I’m interested.

So many thousands of thanks to my usual sources but in this case also special singling out for lovin’s to dear Fabrizio, an awesome and generous moderator over at the vintage erotica forums, from whom the majority of these great shots came!

Bello, sono incredibili, e grazie sempre per tutte immagini meravigliose. Molti baci, ♥ mua-mua! I owe you big-time, my good man, and I strongly encourage readers to swing over to the forums. They’re free, well-moderated, full of fun, and they won’t give your computer any wack infections or the hantavirus. Enjoy!

Here are the scans of the original b&w article accompanying the gatefold and color spread.

[Via http://thethoughtexperiment.wordpress.com]

Good Talks About Sex!

Recently I have had about 3 or 4 really good talks about sex, BDSM and all that kind of stuff with friends.

One friend, who is also a submissive shared experiences, and even wants to hook me up with some of her former lovers! haha. I know that’s a disaster waiting to happen.

Anyways, the best conversation I had though was with a girl who I used to work with. She recently told me that she used to be a domme for 6 years, while she was in college. She told me she’s not a lifestyle domme, but did give me some suggestions about where to go to meet people who might be interested in BDSM in the same way as I am. It is something I need, but I’m also a regular person, with a regular job, and lofty goals. So basically, I would want to be with someone who is not like, a “scenester.” I could even be with someone who has like never tried it before,  but would be open to doing it once in a while.

The adventure continues.

[Via http://anonymousandcandid.wordpress.com]

Kid in a candy store

The summer after I turned 13 was the first time I actually said the big swear words out loud rather than spelling them (yeah, I was that kid).  Out with my girlfriends, fuck was the all-purpose word and was added to pretty much every sentence that came out of my mouth the entire summer.  Every pause was punctuated with fuck, so naturally it showed up in the most inane places.  Right now I’m feeling about the same with BDSM.

Since we’ve hit a revival that includes lots of new and shiny things, we have been reveling in all things BDSM.  When we are alone, we fall into the stylized language that includes lots of Master’s and profuse thanks for the smallest of things.  Hearing him call me pet or his girl is incredibly arousing and makes me feel almost absurdly happy.  We even went so far as to change our Fet statuses to reflect our new dynamic.  When I hit submit on the box that changed my status from Collared by to Owned and Collared by I almost came right then and there – those words held that much power.  The same thing happened when I asked to add Slave of.

The Master’s and the pet’s are  not only fun because of their newness, but one slipped into regular conversation changes the tone to reflect the new levels of openness and trust we’ve created.  To get that extra little shiver when he slips in a half-whispered my girl to what he’s saying, or my mouthing Master from across the room reinforce our little secret.

Thankfully, my husband feels similarly and while it can be really hot to do, he’s just as happy to stick to our old standbys when we are just relaxing together.  There is a temptation to do this all the time, but frankly I would find it not only tedious after a while but nerve wracking as well – having to always be on like that would be exhausting and I’d be constantly worried about slipping up.

So yeah, I want to play with all our new shiny things, but at the same time I don’t want to have to go through every blog post making sure I always refer to him as Him or Master, or to be worried that I’m going to be taken to task for it.  It’s probably just as well that he’s sick today, we need an enforced night off.  Even though we know it’s needed those shiny things literally beg to be played with no matter how tired you might be.  It’ll be nice to just be husband and wife again for a night.  Our shiny playthings will still be there tomorrow.

[Via http://2ndhoneymoon.wordpress.com]

Honest

A year before I met my slave (precious), I had discovered how important the Lifestyle would be for me. And because I was only beginning to learn about the lifestyle, and what my role could possibly be in it, all of my time was spent online. I met My precious on line, in a virtual world called Second Life. She was the smartest of any of the girls I had been “talking” to, and we grew together. I introduced her to her submissive side, and I felt fully comfortable accepting her eventual submission to me as my slave.

When I met my slave, I created a profile on FetLife and claimed that I was doing very well in a 24/7, TPE, Master/slave relationship that is also a long distance one. However, we only communicate via our computers, and have never met in person. We have maintained contact using internet chat and voice, essentially all day, and every day since we met, but we naturally wish our physical circumstances were much more favorable. Our intimacy was enjoyed in our vivid imaginations and it challenged our skills of communication between us.

However, I found it difficult to discuss that having my physical needs met was crucial to my being a healthy Dom. I initially did not hide, but instead tried to be frank and candid with my precious slave. Although I remained honest about my personal physical needs with her at that time, I feel as though the issue remained wholly unresolved and hidden since then. It was easier to enjoy My precious while we were together (on-line, as usual), than it was to create disruption by discussing something that couldn’t be resolved without hurting her. She had stated her understanding of my needs, but I believe she did not accept that I would seek to meet them without her. Of course this hurt her, and it brought into question feelings that could jeapardize any relationship beyond repair: issues of trust, and commitment. Sadly, I believe that hurting her was totally unavoidable. I felt that hiding these feelings damaged our relationship, yet I would not allow a discussion about them disrupt the wonderful experiences we had together every day.

Separately, through email and chat beginning a year ago, I met a girl who I already knew from back when we were kids. I grew close to her, because I was teaching her to discover her submissive side as well. She eventually (and more recently) became My babygirl. The time I spent with babygirl in chat changed quickly to phone, and then within a few months, became plans for a weekend visit to her home, when I decided to drive six hours to see her. I think the pace was not so surprising, mainly because of my eighteen month personal dry spell, and the question became only for what distance was I willing to drive to end the drought. Details of our time together and the experiences we both had are insanely hot. Any significant bumps along the way had primarily to do with my dedication to being the owner of my precious slave, and the conflicted feelings I had about my physical needs and desires, versus feelings of faithfulness to My precious.

The purpose of writing this now, is to be honest with myself, and provide myself with some self respect. I believe I can save and heal the relationship I have with My precious in England, and I can nurture it. And also nurture the relationship I have with My babygirl at the same time. This is something I have struggled with ever since meeting My babygirl. I had no idea how either relationship would grow, and hoped for the best. Separately, each relationship on its own has grown to be very desirable today. But together, this has complicated my life and also theirs. I owe it to all three of us to be honest and straightforward as much as possible, and as quickly as possible.

Now, I need to find a way to put the pieces together in a healthier way. I need to come clean with My precious, even though she might get hurt. I believe that we can thrive someday soon, even though things are quite messy for us today. It will take a great deal of care and sensitivity on my part, and a great deal of forgiveness on hers. I can not deny my own needs just for her, by committing to abstain from intimacy with My babygirl, or anyone else. I refuse abstinence – is that selfish of me? Or is it selfish of her to insist upon establishing a commitment between us, that I abstain from intimacy until we finally meet in person? Without making selfishness the issue, I believe it is more selfish trying to control the activities of another person, than for that person to refuse to be controlled.

This weekend I went to a barbecue and met some people who are members of FetLife, and to whom I can connect through FetLife and can enjoy getting to know them. If she looks, My precious will easily find them within my profile friends. She will easily look to see that they are within the same geographic area, and that I met many during the same weekend. And so she will identify the activities I have been reluctant to tell her about.

The profile in FetLife remains to this day, showing that I am Master to My precious slave. But I am at a turning point, now, because I have met people in person, who are also in FetLife, and I would like to make the connections with them in this network. I need to do something, because I have sheltered My precious from elements that would make her sad. For example, imagining her Master with someone else in a Dom/sub relationship of any kind, would hurt her, and she has been hurt by this in the past. Unfortunately, I can not protect her from this hurt any longer. The long distance relationship is no longer something that will hide the activities that I do without her. I need to be honest with her and with Myself.

~:~ ~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~ ~:~

[Via http://sirzoomer.wordpress.com]

Punish yourself

A couple days ago, Frank called the dogs over for a lesson on personal responsibility and, waiting a moment for them to rush over (which they didn’t), he ended the lesson and asked me if I had anything to add.  I said, ‘Don’t go to your father for personal responsibility.”  And then I heard myself.  Did I just say that?  Do I bury such resentment in me?  But I knew Frank was making such strides in the past few months.  Fuck, I hate myself.

Sometimes I hear myself saying awful things to Frank and, a moment after I feel incredible remorse and shock at myself and have apologized profusely, I wait for Frank’s response and wonder why he hasn’t become furious with me.  Is it because he’s come to expect hearing awful things from me?  Is it because he accepted my apology immediately, knowing I was sincerely contrite?  Is it because I’m merely voicing complaints he’s always attacking himself with?  Whatever the reason, it doesn’t make me feel better and I continue to apologize, hoping he’ll reinforce how unacceptable it is what I say sometimes.  But he, too, knows I’m already cringing.

What’s worse than anything I say just a moment before is when I blurt out, “Don’t hit me,” which sometimes pops out of my mouth in public even, not that he’s ever hit me or ever would, but because growing up I was hit by my parents and in college dated guys whom I allowed to slap me and, therefore, still reflexively expect others to hit me when they were upset with me.  I wish I could go to a therapist where I was confronted by an irate person with his hand raised and I had to learn not to wince or flinch when he moved.  But thinking that is sick, isn’t it?  I suppose you can escape the dom, but the sub doesn’t escape you.

A couple years ago, Delilah had a pee accident on the living room floor and, about fifteen minutes later, after Frank had cleaned it up, my mother came by to bring over some groceries for us.  When she asked where Delilah was (since Delilah always rushes to the door and barks when anyone visits the apartment), we looked about us and saw that she was sitting in her kennel, as if giving herself a time-out.  My first thought was how cute it was, but after we’d explained what had happened to my mom, she put on her school voice and praised Delilah for being such a good girl, knowing when she had done wrong, and I felt sick.  Was such self-punishment an advanced behavior Delilah shared with good children and had I simply been raised to cower like a dog?  I have a sense it was the latter.

I still let Sophie nip at me, but I sneeze on her when she goes too far

[Via http://yuliasspecialplace.wordpress.com]

Sever(al) Motions

Someone’s Clearly Not On The Same Page

Whatever else can be said, this week’s motions have clarified one question…and raised multiple new ones.

First, the question answered: how would the defense counter the prosecution’s filing of “Uncharged Conduct 1″?

The government’s blueprint was assertive and the case brought by AUSA Glenn Kirschner and his deputy Patrick Martin was broad and bold.  The defense’s response?

Tepid.  Where-ever one may come down in this case, it seems apparent the prosecution is, for the moment, on the move… painting its theory in crimson brush strokes.   In contrast, their opponents at present appear in a crouched position, simultaneously defensive but also intent on setting several small legal brush fires.

Whether substantive or merely distracting, it’s hard to know what secrets lie behind these motions.  And brush fires can die out or ignite a conflagration, depending on conditions.

But we have new questions, and possibly new fuel to be added to the fire.

Of the three Motions for Severance, two are remarkably similar.  Only if by similar you mean nearly identical – they being the motions for Joseph Price and Dylan Ward.   How similar is similar?  How about word for word?

To be fair there are a few differences.  For example, paragraph #4 of the Ward motion adds the end sentence:

“Certain portions of each defendant’s statement are videotaped.”

A helpful, if grammatically challenged, reminder that certain portions of Ward’s interrogation were not taped.  Again, nice work MPD A/V Club.

But similarities – down to duplicated paragraph after paragraph – are the rule here.  So much so that Section A is listed as “Introduction of His Co-Defendants’ Statements violates Mr. Price’s Sixth Amendment Confrontation Clause Rights” – in both motions.  Whoops.

Unsurprisingly, the arguments for severance are the same and go something like this.   The Sixth Amendment grants the accused, among other things, the right to confront and cross-examine testimonial evidence brought against them.   Prosecutors can’t just bring hearsay and leave it at that.

But because part of the government’s case involves statements made by the three that – the government says – demonstrate intent to mislead and confuse, and thus demonstrate guilt of the charges brought, no one of the three will be able to contest statements made by the other two.  Hence, a violation of each of their Sixth Amendment rights under the confrontation clause and then need to Sever.  Or something.

(Granted, legal eagles will find much more meat, and will likely point out the many errors and oversights in reasoning here.  Do be kind.)

All three defendants  made much of not being mirandized.  But only in Zaborsky’s motion does this appear – twice:

“The MPD also subjected Zaborsky himself to interrogation the night of Wone’s death without advising him of his Miranda rights and in defiance of his request for counsel.” (emphasis ours)

Defiance?  Not the good cop/bad cop head games we saw played with Ward, but outright refusal to provide counsel on request?  Shocking if true…we would have hoped even the MPD would know enough to put down the rubber hose at this point.

If severance were granted, a new issue pops up – would the separate defendants be able to call each other to the stand?  Perhaps, but this seems complicated by Victor and Joe’s domestic partnership.  It’s our understanding that a spouse cannot be compelled to testify against their partner.  As for Dylan…but this is all speculation.

What’s not speculative is the vastly different filing brought by Victor.  The break with the other two begins at paragraph #5:

“The government seized a variety of items from the Swann Street residence, including, inter alia, a variety of items used by individuals engaged in bondage and domination (“B&D”) practices.”

B&D?  Is that supposed to sound better than S&M?  Continuing…

“The government has indicated its intent to introduce and rely upon the B&D evidence.  Neither the government nor any of the Defendants has asserted that Zaborsky engaged in B&D practices or had any connection to the B&D evidence recovered in the case.”

The motion employs some similar arguments and case law, but is clearly a different construction, based as much around the right to confront as it is the importance to Victor of not being linked the wealth of evidence of Joe and Dylan’s sexual activities on Swann.  Reading all three motions, it’s possible to question if Victor’s motion came first…and Joe and Dylan’s motions were the rapid response.

And one begins to wonder if something deeper than just different legal arguments is stirring here.  Consider: all three moving to be tried separately. Increasing attention to Michael’s activities the night of the murder.  More space emerging between Victor and Joe’s legal strategies.  Victor and Joe arriving at the courthouse at different times,with Joe departing in one direction and Victor and Dylan in another.

And just where was Aunt Marcia at January’s status hearing?

On Monday, something we’ve been working on for a while.  An update on the Trouple.

-posted by Doug

[Via http://whomurderedrobertwone.com]

5. Pride & Prideful

Pride and Prideful.

Explain what each means and how they differ. Also explain how they relate to being a kajira. A minimum of 5,000 words.

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This is going to be a fun essay… not. For those of you that dont make it to the bottom, its about 2500 short.

Angillicbrat has an essay on this one – although minus one of the zeros… not a bad one either – very succinct. Read further down her page and you find she is a second life character, pity really. It makes me wonder how much of the character is contained within the real person.  I hope from what I read a lot is contained in the person, I have a real disdain for playsluts.

 Anyway, a definition of pride and pridefulness according to Wordnet, a Princeton University lexical database of English is:

Noun

• S: (n) pride, pridefulness (a feeling of self-respect and personal worth)
• S: (n) pride (satisfaction with your (or another’s) achievements) “he takes pride in his son’s success”
• S: (n) pride (the trait of being spurred on by a dislike of falling below your standards)
• S: (n) pride (a group of lions)
• S: (n) pride, superbia (unreasonable and inordinate self-esteem (personified as one of the deadly sins))

Verb

• S: (v) pride, plume, congratulate (be proud of) “He prides himself on making it into law school”

 

The Merriam-Webster online dictionary has pride defined as:

Main Entry: 1pride

Pronunciation: \ˈprīd\

Function: noun

Etymology: Middle English, from Old English prȳde, from prūd proud — more at proud

Date: before 12th century

1 : the quality or state of being proud: as a : inordinate self-esteem : conceit b : a reasonable or justifiable self-respect c : delight or elation arising from some act, possession, or relationship

2 : proud or disdainful behaviour or treatment : disdain

3 a : ostentatious display b : highest pitch : prime

4 : a source of pride : the best in a group or class

5 : a company of lions

6 : a showy or impressive group

My own understanding of pride is an emotion, which depending on the context can be either a positive emotion that is the product of praise for a task completed well, or something internally generated through self-reflection, for me, normally going hand in hand with a sense of achievement. In the positive aspect, pride is known as virtuous pride, greatness of soul or magnanimity. However pride can also be seen as a vice or sin, seen as having an overly high opinion of oneself, as vanity, vainglory or hubris.

I find it interesting that Nietzsche saw pride as an example of a previous, master set of morals that had been replaced with slave moralities. In this, pride is seen as good, because it acknowledges the good and the noble, rejecting the weak and insipid. Without pride, Nietzsche argued, we will remain subservient.  I really find the last sentence interesting, especially in the context of Master/kajira relationships.

“There is a difference,” laughed Hassan, “between the pride of a free woman and the pride of the slave girl. The pride of a free woman is the pride of a woman who feels herself to be the equal of a man. The pride of the slave girl is the pride of the girl who knows that no other woman is the equal of herself.

Tribesmen of Gor, e-book edition, page 573.

 In everything that is read, in the John Norman books, in real life Gorean Master or slave blogs, pride is seen as a necessary, welcomed aspect of being a kajira. A kajira’s pride stemming from knowing that in her Master’s eyes, no woman is her equal. That she pleases her Master in everything she does, that His pleasure is the driving force within her… Yet Nietzsche sees a person without pride to be subservient…  I am now very curious to explore Nietzsche more, but I know that would take me a few weeks to get hold of the relevant texts, read them and formulate my own opinions based on what his reasoning is for this. *grins* looks like I have found a little more bedtime reading again! 

Gestures that demonstrate pride are many and can involve a lifting of the chin, smiles, or arms on hips to demonstrate victory. There is a lot of research into pride and displays of this and some research shows that the nonverbal expression of pride conveys a message that is automatically seen and processed by others regarding a person’s high social status in a group. Behaviourally, pride is shown by an expanded posture in which the head is tilted back and the arms extended out from the body. This postural display is innate and it is even shown in congenitally blind individuals who lack the opportunity to see it in others.

Definitions of prideful on the Web:

• disdainful: having or showing arrogant superiority to and disdain of those one views as unworthy; “some economists are disdainful of their …
• exultant: joyful and proud especially because of triumph or success; “rejoicing crowds filled the streets on VJ Day”; “a triumphal success”; “a triumphant shout”
  
  wordnetweb.princeton.edu/perl/webwn
• Full of pride
  
  en.wiktionary.org/wiki/prideful
• pridefulness – pride: a feeling of self-respect and personal worth
  
  wordnetweb.princeton.edu/perl/webwn
• pridefulness – The state or condition of being prideful; pride
  
  en.wiktionary.org/wiki/pridefulness
• pridefully – In a prideful or haughty manner
  
  en.wiktionary.org/wiki/pridefully

 

The event that led to this particular essay being set though was not me being proud of an accomplishment I had achieved, or of being proud to serve or be with my Master… It was an event, a moment in the first two weeks of be separated from my husband. I was angry, upset and not in a good place at all… yes, I had just achieved something, but I was not proud because of my achievement, but proud out of blind anger, out of other people thinking I was incapable of doing a certain task or believing if I did it, I would be inadequate in the result. I was the negative aspect of proud, I was filled with an “I can cope perfectly well alone” – “I don’t damn well need anyone” type of proud. I was prideful.  The thing I am thankful for is it only took a few words of caution from my Master for me to realise my attitude and come back from that place. I am glad he corrected me and so quickly, I know if it had been in the morning, when he is asleep, it would have taken more than a quick evaluation of my attitude for me to retract… I would have had time to stew. One thing I know I am damn good at and I wish I were not is over analysing things and stewing.  I know I will have more of these moments, as time passes and opinions, feelings and events make personal insecurities surface, but I am glad my Master recognised it and corrected it before it took hold too much.  I have spent too many years of my life with that I don’t give a damn independent attitude, it has taken my Master months to get it down to the level it is at now. A lot of quite uncomfortable months for me getting used to the expectation and demand that I will not hide my emotions or thoughts from him… Not that I can very well anyway! Right from the start I have not been able to control my emotions when near my Master; my Master knows this well and also knows me well enough to know if I am attempting to hide.

It took me a bit of digging about, but I realise that the attitude I had at that moment, I personally would align better with Hubris. Hubris, by contrast to pride, involves an arrogant tone and satisfaction in oneself in general. Hubris tends to be associated with more internal individual, negative outcomes. Hubris can be seen in expressions of aggression and hostility. It is not necessarily associated with a high self-esteem, contrary to popular opinion, but with fluctuating self-esteem. At the time and I recognise still, my self esteem is not in a good place. It is fluctuating. Even though a part of me accepts that I want this, I want an end to this marriage, I want and need to be with my Master; it still feels like a failure. After 17 ½ years I have failed to keep a marriage intact – even though I know that there were two parties to the marriage and quite a lot of shit has gone off on both sides over the years – it still feels deep inside like I have failed. Even though my Master has spoken at length with me and told me repeatedly it is an acceptable failure… to me it still is a failure. It is not often I fail in life. If I do something, it is always with 100% commitment, 100% attention. Failure for me is not acceptable. It’s a bastard when you do not have control over that failure and that is what my Master keeps trying to instil in me, that the failure was going to happen anyway because I did not have full control over the result. I agree with him, and understand that what he says is true. Master knows every little detail of what has happened over the past year and what has gone wrong in my own mind over the years. He knows the major mistakes I have made in the marriage and how I feel about them.  In any case, the negative feelings associated with failure do make me want to hide and disappear into a black space where no one can see me or hurt me. Where I can just curl up and not exist, not hurt anyone else, or allow anyone else to hurt me. It makes me want to bring my defences up and the only persons just now getting past that is my boys and my Master… The only person seeing everything is Master. I have to be strong for the boys; they can NOT know how I feel under any circumstances. They are number 1 priority.

Anyways, apparently excessive feelings of hubris have a tendency of creating conflict and sometimes terminating close relationships. Hubris is generally considered one of the few emotions without some positive functions. Though it is easy to argue the opposite, examples of the evil of hubris are used regularly to introduce people into more selfless values–”Hitler had a lot of hubris”, etc.  Hmm, there is a little part of that sentence that sticks… Terminating close relationships… probably the reason I felt it in the first place – terminating myself from that relationship.

I read somewhere – and I am narked that I cannot remember where, but I read that there is nothing lonelier or more destructive than a woman imprisoned by her sense of pride. I can understand this. It would be easy to slip into a place where I do not let people in because I am too concerned with being able to do things myself or because I have gotten myself locked into a position that I have taken on something, some extreme statement, ultimatum or rule. If I am honest, I think I have been there before, a long time ago and quite often at various stages of my failed marriage. Where I have assumed an attitude of hubris, of pridefulness in some silly attempt to protect myself from others.  Later, it often seems silly but I have no way to back down. I have gone and made a cage for myself. It is also, I realise now a little silly to assume this attitude to try to protect yourself from others hurting you… that act of hurt has already happened – that is the reason you are assuming the emotion! Actually recognising that, recognising the emotion on your own though is hard, which is why I am so thankful my Master did and pulled me up about it. When you are filled with anger and hate and proud to show someone you can achieve something they said you could not, it is hard for me to take a step back. I have major issues in stepping back from my emotions. Unlike others I know, I personally cannot do it.

Now, how do they relate to being kajira?…  

Hubris, pridefulness is unacceptable. It may be just a fleeting passing emotion that once pulled to account by a Master or someone, it is corrected… or it could caused by a deep set gripe. Either way, it is unacceptable. It takes your focus of attention from your Master, from where it should be and puts it firmly on yourself, on this inflated, angry, empty victory… and it is an empty victory. The only person you are fighting with this emotion is yourself. The only person being alienated is you.  Hubris is an introspective emotion it eats away inside. It most certainly does not produce a pleasant person to be around.  Pridefulness is an emotion that our Masters should pull us on immediately, each and every time it shows. If we are to grow as a person, grow as kajira into everything we can and are able to be, we need that support and holding to account.  In addition, our Master’s should not tolerate it at all either.  Why should they put up with a haughty female? We are not free; we are not of dominant character. Just as we need them to help us grow, in the same breath they do not have to tolerate any aspect of us they do not like. Why should they? The can take their time to change us – if they wish to… but they certainly should not and do not tolerate bad behaviour.  

Pride…

Pride is a necessary emotion. It is needed at some levels within each individual for us to function within life. Without pride we cannot love, hate, feel happiness, sadness and have a basic sense of self worth. In relation to being kajira, you cannot exactly take effective care of your Master’s property without having a basic inherent self worth.  Pride is what as kajira, as submissive we feel when we accomplish a task set, when we do trivial little things for our Masters, when we think and act with them in mind. It is that part of that sense of achievement we feel when we obey, when they push us further than we believe we can go and we succeed. A kajira needs to have some sense of pride, but for me nothing beats what I feel when I hear my Master say “good girl”. Two little words that when I hear them, mean the world to me. They mean I have done something right. I have pleased him.  I feel proud then, proud I have been able to make him happy and please him. It drives me to try harder for him.  Pride is a useful emotion, very useful I suppose for Master’s… it allows them to control us better!

2535 words

[Via http://kajiradreams.wordpress.com]

Uncharged Conduct: Defense Response

Defense:  Semen Is From Postmortem Process, Not Sexual Assault

A flurry of motions in the Robert Wone case hit the DC Superior Court with a ferocity to match last month’s Snowmaggeddon, as the defense sought to fortify their position that Robert Wone was not incapacitated or sexually assaulted on the night he was murdered.

This came in their joint response to AUSA Glenn Kirschner’s blistering motion of uncharged conduct which stated Robert Wone was, in fact,  incapacitated and sexually assaulted before he was murdered.

Also discovered in the mounds of paper swirling around at the Moultrie Court House were defense motions to sever the defendants from a trial with each other, as well as to suppress involuntary statements.  We will tackle those motions in the coming days this week.

But, first, after the jump, let’s jump feet first into the defense’s joint response to the Uncharged Conduct.

The defense contends that the government has no evidence to show Robert was incapacitated or sexually assaulted, so therefore it can not be entered at trial.

On the incapacitation charge, the defense argues that all blood tests came up negative for any incapacitating drug.  They reveal for the first time that the only drug found so far in Robert’s system was atropine, which is an alkaloid drug frequently given in medical intervention or emergency room situations.  AUSA Pat Martin’s office confirmed that indeed atropine was administered by medical personnel to Robert.

The defense is very sensitive about the government entering the paralytic agent succinylcholine without a positive test from Robert’s remaining blood sample.  This is a little surprising in light of defense’s confidence that bordered on cockiness as they taunted the government to test away, because they were so sure that no paralytic agent would be found.

The defense’s strongest argument comes in their refutation of the purpose of the puncture wounds.  After examining the autopsy report, the EMS report, and GWU Hospital ER records, they write:

“Those records document that GWU medical personnel attending Wone necessarily caused a number of puncture marks while attempting to save his life.  The EMS Report produced by the government likewise documents that the EMS responders made puncture wounds in Wone during the course of what was ultimately an unsuccessful effort to obtain intravenous (IV) access.”

The defense also zeros in on Robert’s semen being found in his genital and anal regions as the sole evidence of the government’s sexual assault charge. They draw a distinction about what was actually found on Robert was not “sperm” but rather seminal fluid.  This is important to their argument since:

“Indeed, it is well documented in forensic pathology literature that seminal fluid and urine are commonly secreted by men as part of the postmortem process: “muscle relaxation immediately after death explains the finding of leaking out of urine or seminal fluid…”

If the defense contends this is result of the postmortem process, then it would also follow that the seminal fluid should have been found on Robert’s underwear just as it was on his genital and anal regions.  Robert’s underwear was tested, and nothing about seminal fluid is mentioned, which suggests nothing was found.

If that is the case, does this argue that seminal fluid seeped out when he was nude?  If he was nude when this happened, it wouldn’t be consistent with the defendant’s story.

There are a lot of unanswered questions here.  For example, when does a corpse begin to seep seminal fluid in the postmortem process?  Is it immediately after death, or several hours later…and was Robert dressed the entire time?   If it happens immediately afterward, Robert should have been dressed, according to the defendants’ statements, as they found him dressed when they discovered he had been stabbed.  For now though, the lack of seminal fluid being found on Robert’s underwear seems to be a significant hole in their argument.

The defense concludes that since no evidence supports sexual assault, none of the BDSM materials should be allowed into trial, and request an evidentiary hearing to settle the matter.

–Posted by David

View this document on Scribd

[Via http://whomurderedrobertwone.com]

Letter To My Submissive...

My dear subbie,

Mistress enjoyed your e-mail of Wednesday (Hump Day).  It’s always so fun to find a note from you and read what is going on in dear subbie’s life. Yes, your e-mails still bring a smile to this Mistress’ lips when she reads the directions of dear subbie’s thoughts.

Mistress has had one of those unfortunate life-happening weeks.  Two deaths in one week can really bring things down, but a necessary part of life.  Both deaths were of dear women that have been in my life, one much more than the other…

The first death was of a dear woman that was the mother of my youngest brother’s best friend.  She died quietly in her sleep on Sunday into Monday.  A blessing if there is one to be found in death.  While one is never really ready to turn loose of a dear one, I find it somewhat comforting to think that if the passing was gentle and quiet, it was simply that person’s time to go…their number came up and they were ready to take the hand of the angel sent to fetch them.

I find it interesting how different people’s thought processes are on the issue of death.  While I was raised in several different Christian churchs/congregations…I’ve found comfort in creating my own ideas of what happens when one dies.  More so with the death of my own mother…and have decided that the whole concept is a work-in-progress.

I have learned that every single person deals with death and grief so VERY differently.

The other passing was a woman that practically raised me and my siblings.  My sister was the daughter the woman and her husband would never have.  The woman was barren which is always tragic, but there were never any options discussed, at least, not that I remember or recall.  My sister filled the bill when it came to having a new baby around and living next door to my family or rather my family having moved in next door to this childless couple was a blessing for both households.

This woman and her husband were like another set of grandparents.  They were always there for us and took care of us when my own parents were caught in the throes of early family-hood…my mother had serious psychiatric problems when we were little…between this wonderful couple next door and my biological grandparents on my dad’s side and maternal grandmother from my mom…me and my three other siblings were raised.

This woman taught me how to cook, sew and clean house…something my mother was never able to do for one reason or another…I can’t help but remember all the fond memories of prom dresses and “outfits” for everyday that this woman made for me and my sister.

The sad part of this woman’s passing is that she died a slow and painful, struggling death…dementia had set in quite rudely over the last couple of months.  The woman’s dear husband of 65 years was at her side and was so distraught when he admitted he could no longer care for his wife on his own.  My sister assisted in finding a suitable assisted living center that specialized in care for those with Alzheimer and dementia…how incredibly expensive that was…and it became a reality that this was not enough care for the dear woman.  After many trips to the hospital over a few weeks…the recommendation from the doctors was full nursing care and to make her comfortable.

I can think of no crueler death than that from the loss of one’s mind…the body soon follows suit and starts to shut down…it is so difficult to watch and more so when you’re directly involved with that person…and then it finally ends.  It is a blessing of sorts if you can find a blessing in death…out of pain, out of suffering, out of the blasted body that held the person captive during that horrible time.

Mistress was able to enjoy one lowly submissive this week…a new client to the fold.  Unfortunately, this submissive doesn’t hold a candle to Mistress’ dear subbie…I do my best not to compare those that serve me, but the reality is that dear subbie provides Mistress with the “whole package!”

Mistress works with what she has before her but that doesn’t mean she necessarily likes the package before her…in other words, the vessel of this submissive was sorely lacking…extremely over-weight with a hang-over in front that made finding his cock-meat a real challenge!!!  Of course, the cock always seems three times smaller when hidden under folds of skin and fat…but Mistress is determined to bring forth the desired results, though the thought process of having that cock-meat near Mistress’ smoothly shaved pussy never really becomes an issue…

So my dear subbie…Mistress will be attending a funeral on Saturday morning…and then a viewing on Sunday afternoon and another funeral at noon on Monday.  I’m going to take off of work on Monday and devote my time and attention to the dear man that is left behind by his wife of 65-years.  The dear woman was a few years older than her husband, she was 90 to be 91 in April when she passed yesterday…then it will be back to the grind of things on Tuesday.

Good news for my oldest son the Trooper.  His transfer  went through yesterday and he will assume his new duty on Monday evening.  He will be working the night shift and will no longer need to leave his patrol car at my house.  I’m happy for him but sad that I won’t be seeing him on any type of consistent basis.  I’m trying to rejoice in gaining my ability to session when I desire back…but at the same time, sad to see that chapter come to a close.

I hope dear subbie has a good weekend…Mistress is so hoping that this winter crud comes to an end as we head into March…take care and write when you can…Mistress does love hearing from you.

Sensually, sincerely,

Mistress Elizabeth

[Via http://thematuresexgoddess.wordpress.com]

Roleplay Adventure in Dominiqueland (E Ticket Required)

Some men are experimenters. They dabble. Submission is not part of their psyche. Fetishes don’t guide their sex. They just like sampling a little of everything life has to offer. Especially if the sampling happens to involve beautiful women and nakedness.

James was bored. Work had been slow, the surf had been flat, and his friends were all busy with mundane pursuits. James needed to shake things up. He’d heard about Domination and submission and many things about it had sounded fun and challenging. He didn’t really identify with either “role” but many of the things he read about got his motor going. James had a fertile imagination and an ever-growing fantasy list and he was beginning to think now would be a good time to check a few items off of the list.

He had heard about me and my playthings and read a few blog entries. He decided to take the plunge and give me a call. He said he wanted to be surprised. He wanted to walk into an adventure and be swept up into a story whose ending he didn’t know. His only clues for me to build a session around were that he loved roleplaying games and he wanted two women to be involved.

So, at the appointed time and day, James showed up at my door. I pulled him inside by the front of his shirt before he could finish “Hello” and I breathlessly filled him in.

“I got her! She’s in the bedroom. We need to get the information out of her, no matter what it takes.”

I pulled James to the bedroom and revealed the perfect damsel in distress victim. The lovely and innocent (looking) plaything Morai was on her side on the bed, hog-tied and gagged, wearing matching lacy pink panties and bra (one succulent breast was about to pop loose from all of her wriggling), her huge brown eyes wide, frightened and pleading.

“What should we try first, James?”

James did not look bored any more. James had a canary-bird-eating grin slapped across his face. James rubbed his hands together as he considered the possibilities.

Check back later for Part Two of ROLEPLAY ADVENTURE IN DOMINIQUELAND: Making Morai Talk

[Via http://domdominique.wordpress.com]

Hump Day...Wednesday

Another middle of the work-week day…Wednesday.  Things have been busy at the office…I realized yesterday that this is the last work week of February…next Monday starts a whole new month.

I’ve been scurry around this morning, preparing for a BDSM session tonight.  A new subject to take and do with as I please…I do enjoy that first session, the initiation process, so-to-speak…a new naked body to explore, a new cock to manipulate and play with…I’m looking forward to introducing this new submissive to the realm of Mistress Elizabeth.

The sun will be out today which should improve my overall mood…I’m so tired of cloudy and cold…sunny and cold will be nice for a change.

I hate having the eternal struggle with myself to get out of bed in the mornings…I’m really thinking this is due to not getting quality sleep at night…I simply haven’t been able to turn off my mind when I go to bed.  The Advil P.M. works great, provides me with the ability to turn off the lights and TV and go to sleep…just staying asleep and not dreaming or having quality dreams seems to be the problem here.  Maybe it’s pent up sexual frustrations…while my BDSM sessions and fuck sessions are lots of fun, I am beginning to think that maybe I need more?????? 

For some reason, the thought of having “one” man in my life to be my “everything” just seems so far-fetched and way too much like work!!!!  Can you say relationship challenged???  What offers I have been getting to provide me with a warm-fuzzy, as I will call it, simply don’t appeal to me either.  I simply have no desire to “date.”  Crazy, huh?

I need to move along, get a few more things to get done to be ready for my session before jumping into the shower and getting my work day underway…have a great Hump Day!!!!

[Via http://thematuresexgoddess.wordpress.com]

NSFW

Not Safe For Wone

Last week’s filing of the Government’s Notice of Uncharged Conduct I generated a fair amount of light and heat in the Robert Wone case.  The ‘light’ column features highlights of the government’s position – that the murder investigation “…continues”, that the “…killer is someone know [sic] to and being protected by the defendants,” and that the “…government may (emphasis ours) seek to introduce this theory of incapacitation…”  

Leather Pride Flag, a symbol of the BDSM and fetish subculture

In an overwhelmingly accusatory document, the key word here is may, suggesting the government fears its biggest hurdle remains the apparent absence of positive proof that Robert was chemically incapacitated. 

But it was the 10-page “Attachment A” – squarely on the ‘heat’ side of the equation – that led to a squirming, car-crash, ‘ick’ response for many.  Well, ‘ick’ mixed with ‘…wha?’ A Wartenberg wheel?  Padded fist mitts? (“…beautifully made…” says this cheery retailer.) 

A CB-3000?  (now in a helpful plastic version for traveling by air!)  A urethral sound device?

Are you kidding me? A What?

Look, none of these four editors are ingenues or all that naive.  We’ve collectively seen our share.  And to be clear, a fair share of the many, many items seized from 1509 Swann hardly rise to the level of a cocked eyebrow. 

Harnesses, chains, arm bands, hoods, black leather jock, leather blind fold, paddles, collars, ‘Industrial-style’ knee pads…yawn.  The list goes on, and yes, some of the items go well beyond bland sex play.  But they are all legal, and possessing one or all of them does not constitute a crime. 

Frankly dwelling on this S&M shopping list (or inventory for eyecandydvds perhaps?) seems more hathos than trying to gain a better understanding of the crime.

That it is cited in such detail serves two serious purposes.  First, let’s be frank: it was an effective way for the prosecution to keep pressure on the defendants and garner a little more press (got you all to come here, didn’t it?)  The second is far more important, and much more dull.  Collectively, the items of Attachment A strongly argue for their admission in trial by way of Johnson v. United States.

Johnson strikes to the heart of what evidence is admissible, and the variance between that which is probative vs. prejudicial – already a key battleground in the Wone case.   It involved a rather limited question of whether a bullet-proof vest could be admitted as evidence in the gun-possession trial of one Lamont Jones.  Without getting into the legal weeds, Johnson amplified 1964’s Drew v. United States and set a new DC Court of Appeals standard.

“Specifically, Drew does not apply where such evidence (1) is direct and substantial proof of the charged crime, (2) is closely intertwined with the evidence of the charged crime, or (3) is necessary to place the charged crime in an understandable context.”

To this non-lawyer, test #3 is a no-brainer, and a strong case can be drawn in the Wone murder for test #2.  But direct and substantial proof of the charged crime?  After all, Johnson involved a murder with a gun.   The argument could, and may well be made of the differences between a gun – an inherently lethal item – and a black leather jockstrap.

But according to homicide investigator Dallas Drake of the Center for Homicide Research, some perfectly legal objects or activities:

“There are some aspects of S&M culture that are inherently dangerous.  Of course, S&M is highly stigmatized, and I don’t want to add to that.  But the reason we call some behaviors inherently dangerous is because the have a high possibility of causing death.”

For example, Drake cites breath-control play, where one person temporarily asphyxiates their sex partner to increase the sex “high.”  Such behavior may not be illegal, but it is inherently dangerous, because it runs so close to accidentally taking the life of another.  Similarly, possessing a gun may not be illegal, but picking it up is inherently dangerous because of the high probability of injury or death.

So in a crime where the victim was apparently restrained, sexually assaulted or tortured, and ultimately “…dominated in the worst possible way: he was killed,” the fact that dozens of restraints, items used for sexual torture, and any number of books and other objects aimed specifically at dominating and degrading another seems clear to meet the Johnson test.

-posted by Doug

[Via http://whomurderedrobertwone.com]

Bikers Home (finale)

He sat up straight still holding me in his lap and looked at me. I have never believed that I am a beautiful woman. Certainly I have assets, things about me that are intriguing, but beauty is not one of my virtues. I looked away, letting my hair fall across my eyes. He gently brushed it back from my face and placed the back of  his hand against my cheek. It was a soft sort of surrender lying there letting him hold me, caress me. His other hand floated across my body, sending little flashes of electricity across my skin. He was slow, as I had been, exploring.

The heat built slowly in me again, but it was a different feeling, something deeper with an edge to it. I moaned low in my throat, losing myself to the sensation of his touch. He grinned a quirky little boy smile, shy in it. The rocky hardness of his face was transformed, traveling up through those perfect eyes to spear my heart with abandon. I reached up and traced one finger slowly down the scar on his cheek. I smiled up at him, genuine happiness spreading through me and whispered a single word, please.

He took his time, gently laying me down on the pillows. The heat from his body rivaled the heat from the fire and both mingled through my consciousness. His touch was the most gentle I have ever felt. To have that sweetness coming from such a hard man blew through my pain and something small let loose inside me. He covered me with kisses, with his body. I felt him grow hard against me and I wrapped my legs around him raising my hips to feel the head of his cock poised to take me. He paused, raised up above me and looked down into my eyes as he slide inside. I watched his face, his eyes as he did, that last vestige of control slipping away from us both.

We made love, slow and sweet by the fire. It was hours of gently lapping orgasms building on each each other like waves against the shore. There was no inch of each others bodies we left unexplored, nothing left to the imagination. Our urgency built with the waves, growing stronger until we were both washed away by the tidal wave of need. By this time I was so lost in desire that thought was obliterated. I lived in sensation, a liquid pool of molten heat. We spilled over into each other, scattering like stars in the night sky. The fire died down, cooled to embers. Like us it lay spent in a pile of ashes, a calm ending to the consuming roar. We drifted off to sleep, our minds joining our bodies in wasted bliss.

A quick snap to reality and I found myself standing once again with a gentle hand against my face. The music thumped in the background, ice blue eyes looking at me with a desire hotter than I had ever known. My phone buzzed insistently in my pocket. He felt it vibrate and looked down toward it. The spell broke when our eye contact did and I was left breathless, burning with need. Such sweet abandon I had felt, all in a matter of moments  from a simple touch of a strong man. I rocked back on my heels and knew it was time to go home. My need was leaking dangerously close to the surface and if I didn’t escape now, it was going to swallow me whole.

[Via http://bbwneedsitnow.wordpress.com]

Who wears short shorts?

Yea I couldn’t (if I wanted to in the sub-zero weather that is)… the cause for that to follow, but this first:

You know what I got for Valentine’s day? A hand painted lady bug picture holder in red and pink. Luke painted it for me! I actually already had the lady bug. I had gotten it ages ago, I don’t remember where from. It always was meant to be painted so he finally did it for me and it looks so cute. It might not seem much but if you know us it’s a wonderful gesture.

I’ve never been a fan of v-day. The push and obligation to be romantic is ridiculous to me. It’s cheapening something I believe to be very private and precious. When I met Luke he wouldn’t quite believe that I wasn’t into it all and he really wanted to do things for me to make me feel special. So I said if we had to do something, whatever we gave each other had to be handmade. This is our 6th Valentine’s day together (well our 7th but considering we met on the 8th of Feb we weren’t quite that far along by 14th!) Over the years we’ve given each other some really precious handmade things which we’ll always treasure. Because they are unique they are effortlessly memorable. This year, by painting the lady bug he was telling me (told me!) that he would work to make a lot of my hopes and his promises come true.

OK enough sap.

I promised I’d talk about my anniversary but first the lead up. I mentioned that on the 6th we had some weirdness going on. It all started rather innocently. That Saturday morning we were lying in bed and I was teasing Luke trying to goad him playfully into giving me a spanking. However, he misunderstood something I did. When he grabbed the paddle from the bedside table, I just thought I had managed to get him to play but while I was all silliness, he was all business. I noticed that he was spanking me a bit too hard and fast for play, a lot more like a punishment but I remained clueless until a few seconds later came the lecture. And then all of the sudden the penny dropped and with it my pain tolerance. Of course, as soon as I found out there was a misunderstanding I should have spoken but sometimes when I am in my little girl space, I can’t speak out fast enough. I am not sure why. It’s not the safest thing for sure. But somehow being in that space makes me about as articulate as a child. So when he asked me if I was ever going to do — again, I froze. I hadn’t really done — (thus the misunderstanding) but I couldn’t get it out. My adult side was angry, my little girl side was pouting, neither was getting a word out, which meant he kept spanking me which in turn made my adult side angrier and sent my little girl side into a panic WHICH meant I began rolling around and moving under the paddle WHICH made him angry at me for breaking position WHICH meant harder spanking AND THEN…

All hell broke loose.

I was mad at him for not reading my body cause god knows I don’t move like that ever and I was mad at me for my lack of communication and after I ended the scene he didn’t stay around to talk things over and that made me more upset aaaaaand the day was ruined.

But!

Of course, sleep fixes all so at some point through the night I had snuggled up to him and so I woke up to him rubbing my back and murmuring in my ear. Being an astute student of body language (unlike some people) I knew from the way he was rubbing my back, he was planning to revisit, resolve and re-conquer. So half asleep, I reached down and pulled down my panties… my own brand of white flag if you will. Nothing like a paddle to warm you up on a cold winter morn. Of course, my pain tolerance was back where it should be so while it hurt, I was deep into endorphin high in a couple of minutes. He must have really enjoyed himself too because once we got up to go get some breakfast he had me up against the wall and accentuated his handy work with the prison strap. And after that he felt some more detail work would really enhance the whole picture so he made me wait for him to get his crop. The crop, being so narrow and springy causes this burst of acute pain (like when you stub a toe really bad) and then all the force of the impact flows out in the longer lasting warm throbbing pain. That first WHAM makes the skin go white and then the skin turns an angry red. Because of that deep white flash among all the nice red welts, Daddy calls that particular effect the “white lightening”. He is corny like that. This effect is also the thing I hate about the crop on my back. I can take anything on my ass and thighs but while a flog on back and shoulders can be sensual… the crop is plain painful even though he uses it with much less force (cause let’s face it more force would crack my ribs!) So several white lightnings later, I finally got to get some breakfast.

Maybe these two days of spankings are why the third one did what it did… but I guess we’ll never know! On the 8th, I got an anniversary spanking. He wanted his little girl otk and he was going to paddle me. (Are you noticing that he has a special affinity for the paddle? The bastard ) We traditionally play harder on anniversaries. It’s not like either of us ever decided that’s what we should do but we seem to always push things a bit. We test our own boundaries and each other’s. It’s always fun. And so on 8th he began nice and slow, sending me off to lala land in mere moments. The pain was exquisite. He would spread the blows evenly and once in a while focus on one point until I almost couldn’t take it before moving on again. He had me dancing under his paddle. He loves how I rise to meet his paddle. I think he believes it’s intentional. And sometimes it is. Actually it might always be on some unconscious level. But about 15 min into that spanking when he commented on it, I was surprised. I’d been moving without any direct intent. Every inch of my ass and upper thighs tingled. I became more and more sensitive to every blow but less sensitive to pain. I wanted more. A lot of times after a whipping or spanking that has me soaked in my own sweat and exhausted from pain, the moment he walks away I feel this little disappointment that it’s all over… like, “but I wanted more!” Well, he must have sensed it because after what was already a very long session he told me to beg for any additional blows. You know what begging does to a bottom? I was on fire. (Pun intended). I kept asking begging until at some point he stuck the paddle in front of my face and half of it was bloody to which I gave the biggest goofy grin. What I was thinking was, there is no way he split my skin. It didn’t hurt that bad.

Well

It turns out the repeated wood impact on skin wears skin out!! Who could have known?!! He had worn out two circles (don’t ask me how, imagine highest point of impact and a radius around it) of skin out of the two cheeks of my ass. Two oozing red circles. There wasn’t a lot of blood at the site but the whatever little was there had been splattered over everything immediately around my butt. *laughing* it was ridiculously gruesome and of course since blood was involved exciting. There is something so awesome about blood. So darkly mysterious. It makes me shiver. It makes him hard. But this was not that kind of blood. This was decidedly slow oozing blood, mixed with mostly interstitial fluid. When he was quite through (yes we still went on after observing the bloody paddle), I cleaned the wounds and put some salve on it but it oozed for another 2, 3 days. Sitting was very uncomfortable. I actually HAD to lay on my belly. You know like all the good old spanking stories when people are rendered so painful they can’t sit for a week. Well while bruises won’t quite achieve that, lack of skin does! And I tell you, while the fantasy of being that severely punished is delicious… the reality of having come by it in such an odd way was not as “fun”. I cursed and groaned and laughed at myself. HE spent the week laughing, literally, at my ass and threatening more on top of it.

The wounds did bruise some (which made him very happy because I haven’t bruised in any shade of blue for ages), then the skin began peeling and falling off and after an exact week, my bottom was back to normal.

We’ve been running around like headless chickens but I’ve been itching for the belt since. I think the paddle can take vacation now yes? Let’s draw blood with leather. (No knotted leather, too easy!!) And the perfect occasion awaits. I’m gonna be 3-0!

I just read over this and I realize it’s rather … bite sized (or post sized) version of the events I said I’d write about but waddaya want from me. I am tired. I have clinic tomorrow. I’ll write more later. Really I will. I have talking to do about Luke’s diet. The man has lost 7 lbs already. I rocketh!

[Via http://dirtyingenue.wordpress.com]

Black And Blueprint

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Sharing one of our best nights

The scene: February, 2008. A chilly, bright and sunny day turning into a chilly, calm and dark evening.

The players: Ruby and Sir

The action:

I had to work on that fateful day. Throughout the day I knew that Sir was planning something fun for us for that night, but I had no idea what he had up his sleeve. I watched the clock as the countdown of hours turned into a countdown of minutes. When I was finally done for the day, I went home, took a shower and started the intricate process of finding that perfect balance of romantically, softly pretty and sexily tarty. I was to meet Sir at seven thirty at the arts space where he worked. I wasn’t sure what was awaiting me, but I was excited. I’d made Sir some chocolate fudge (for his unyielding sweet tooth) and had written him a heartfelt valentine. My meager offering would soon be blown out of the water by what he’d done, but at this point, I was in the dark.

I got off the bus and as I approached the building, the lights were off. I opened the door, which was unlocked, and walked in, somewhat confused by the lack of lights and lack of Sir. I took a few more steps into the lobby, and saw four red roses sitting on the bar, each one bathed in a circle of light. Also on the bar were sweet messages written under each flower. I slowly gathered each of them up, feeling my heart flutter. At the end of the bar, in the last circle of light, was a piece of black fabric, with a note that said. “Put this blindfold on and wait for me”. I giggled a little, put my things down and tied the blindfold around my eyes. About 45 seconds passed, and then out of nowhere I heard the heavy footsteps of boots and felt Sir slip his hand into mine, intertwining our fingers. He kissed me softly on the lips and said “Trust me?” I nodded. He led me into the main space, taking small steps and leading me ever so slowly.

Still blindfolded, when we entered the space, he said, “You look beautiful, but you are wearing entirely too many clothes”. He gently started peeling away the layers – first my winter coat, then my top, then my skirt and underwear, leaving me wearing only my knee high boots. The air was chilly on my naked skin, and I felt very exposed, standing naked in a place where we had spent so much time working. After running his warm hands over my chilled skin, he led me further into the room and lifted me onto a platform. I was propped up against something and tied down. Finally he undid the blindfold. My eyes adjusted from the total darkness to the partial darkness of the room with lights hanging from the ceiling pointed right at me. I looked at Sir, in awe. I was up on a corner stage and was strung up on a St. Andrew’s Cross, which he had spent the day building. I was taken aback, both in shock of the work he’d put into preparing for the evening and of how special I felt. No one had ever gone to such lengths for me before.

After a deep kiss, an evil grin and a soft brush of his hand on my cheek, the blindfold went back on.

First, Sir lubed my ass up, the cold gel making me jump (as much as I could in the restraints) and inserted a butt plug. Then, nipple clamps were attached onto me, the discomfort growing and growing for about a minute before the sensation mellowed out into a pleasurable one. All the while, Sir was saying really raunchy things, and making my cunt drip with the thought that someone could walk in at that point and there was no way I could hide. He was getting into my head, giving my brain a very sexy massage. For the next little while, he used a combination of pain and pleasure to bring me to orgasm twice. My body was red and raw from the snaps of the crop all over my thighs, tits and belly. He used his fingers and a vibrator to fuck me, filling me up in both of my holes (my ass still holding onto that plug). After two orgasms, he told me that he was really going to pick up the pace and start hurting me more. He draped a heavy chain around my waist, stuffed a dildo into my cunt and held it there by tying rope to the chain and stringing it between my thighs. He stuffed my underwear into my mouth, softly gagging me. Still blindfolded, he put another rose in my hand and told me to drop it in lieu of using a safeword if I needed to. I nodded.

The beating I took was intense and difficult and absolutely pleasurable in the way pain can be for a masochist. At one point, the nipple clamps were getting in the way, so he removed them from my nipples, causing me to scream through the gag, and put them instead on my labia. There was nothing I could do but let myself fall into a mental state that some would call “subspace”…I just call it floating; where I’m still very much present, but my body and my mind feel unattached and the sensations feel like light.

When the beating was over, he quickly went to work on my clit with his mouth. I had an orgasm so intense that I shot the butt plug right out of me. He laughed, I was embarrassed. He told me that I was a bad girl for letting my ass expel the gift of the plug. I heard the sound of his heavy boots walking away from me. My breathing was heavy, my skin was glistening with beads of sweat. I had no idea what was coming, and then, out of the darkness and the silence, the sound of a chainsaw, or a metal grinder, or some piece of machinery that was incredibly loud and scary went off very close to my head (or so I thought). This was still very early on in our relationship and I had mentioned on numerous occasions that I find it really hot to be scared out of my wits. I screamed and started to cry, which, after everything I’d endured already that night, was very cathartic. Still, my fist clenched down on that rose stem and my arms and legs clenched against the bite of the rope that was keeping me still. It turned on and off, changing positions and confusing my aural perception for a few minutes before Sir walked up to me and kissed my cheek.

After what seemed like a lifetime, he took the underwear out of my mouth, the rose out of my hand, and undid my blindfold. As he brushed the hair out of my face, he looked at my slightly reddened and glassy eyes. He looked at me with so much love, and told me he was proud of me. I shook my head, and told him that I had no words. I felt incredible. I smiled softly as he undid the rope and carried me down to a comfy chair in the middle of the room. He cradled me in his lap and held me tight. After a few minutes of silence and just being close, he tipped my chin up, kissed me and said “Well? How was that?” I opened my mouth to speak, and big fat tears rolled out of my eyes instead. I told him I’d had the best night ever and that I felt so loved and so safe and that no one had ever gone to that kind of trouble for me. I felt ridiculous, crying so much after something so wonderful had happened, but he knew that I was simply overwhelmed and was very happy that the plan had been a success. He presented me with one last rose, and as I gathered them all together and we got ourselves presentable again, I felt our relationship change. It went from one of trying each other out to being real partners in crime It convinced me that this was my match. The man I wanted to give myself to fully. It was wonderful.

The night ended with dinner and us making love. An incredible night that I still remember vividly. A memory I will hold onto for the rest of my life. So much love.

<3 Ruby

[Via http://rubysjourney.wordpress.com]

Ebanned.com & Another Beautiful Day At The Dungeon

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hmmm ouch!!!

A few gruesome stories that would make any guy cross his legs; tightly. Both are true.

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A friendship between two men turned to tragedy when one bit off and swallowed the penis of the other, resulting in likely loss of liberty for one and the unrecoverable loss of manhood for the other.

Marian Milczarek (53) became embroiled in a fight with his best friend, Wojciech Sowinski,who suffered the loss of his penis, having it bitten off and apparently gulped down by Sowinski in the course of their altercation.

The two men began fighting when an argument over a borrowed trailer escalated into physical violence.  According to Milczarek: “[Sowinki] began hitting me with a chain and then pulled down my trousers and started biting. It was agony.”

Medical technology has advanced to the degree that a severed penis can be reattached upon successful recovery of the organ and timely surgery.

However, a subsequent search by police and emergency medical staff failed to yield up the missing male member. Police suspect that Sowinski may have eaten it, having probably consumed it during their fight.

“If we’d had the other bit of his penis we could have sewn it back on,” said Dr Adam Domanasiewicz from the hospital in nearby Trzebnica, where Milczarek is recovering.

Sowinski is now facing a 10 year prison sentence for the assault.

Click here for source!

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A man took a pair of scissors and snipped off his own member after a falling out with his girlfriend. As he attempted to preserve it for posterity, doctors later managed to sew it back on.

After an argument with his girlfriend over her not moving in with him, he returned home and there cut off his manhood, apparently as he wished to be done with women entirely.

The man (37) was found bleeding on the floor, and was soon conveyed to hospital. Doctors, having discovered that, for some reason even he cannot explain, he had put his severed penis on ice, then managed to reattach the member.

It is not clear whether the self-castrator will regain full use of the unwanted appendage, or indeed whether he is happy about still having it.

Police explain the failed eunuch’s situation: “He told us that apparently he did not need his penis since his girlfriend didn’t want to move in with him – after two broken marriages, he said he wanted to have nothing in common with women.”

Regarding his mysterious refrigeration of his lost manhood, police have this to say: “This was one wise thing that he did, if we can at all speak about wisdom in a situation like that.”

Russia actually has a long history of this sort of thing, thanks to the extensive activities of the Christian cult of the Skoptsy, whose members would cut off their genitals and breasts in order to rid themselves of temptation…

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A lady had an orgasm so intense that she vaginally trapped her husband’s penis inside her for over two hours, causing the pair to be hospitalised and nearly costing the husband his manhood.

The couple, Ivan (56) and Valentina (51), had apparently received a copy of the Kama Sutra, the traditional Indian sex manual well known for some challenging positions, as a joke birthday present they say.

Undaunted and doubtless aroused, the pair opted to try out some of the positions detailed in the book; after much joyful experimentation, they reached “Indrani”, a position where the lady lies on her back with her knees brought up to her chest and legs spread, allowing the man read access.

The position proved effective and Valentina soon climaxed intensely, involuntarily contracting the muscles of her vagina vigorously as a result.

So tightly did she contract that Ivan could not so much as withdraw his penis; worse yet, the contraction persisted, and the couple vainly struggled to free themselves for two hours.

It soon became apparent that they were in serious difficulty, and would require medical assistance.

An ambulance soon arrived, and first responders described the terrible scene they were confronted with:

“We couldn’t help laughing looking at them. The two lovers, who were not young at all, were stuck in such a position!”

Doctors soon realised the man could be in danger of a most unfortunate injury:

“We had to hurry because the swelling of the man’s sex organ had begun. We called our best surgeons, but the man somehow escaped!”

It seems the prospect of the tender ministrations of the surgeons persuaded Ivan to get loose. He apparently fled the scene without debilitating injury, and doctors found only a bleeding Valentina.

The surgeons operated on her, and she escaped significant injury, though clearly the pride of both will not soon be recovering.

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A man (42) who visited a park in the dead of night to engage in nude exercise, and then decided to have sex with some park furniture became trapped in the attempt, we hear. His member became so engorged with blood that he could no longer withdraw himself; it took all the efforts of emergency services to release him.

The man seems to have been inspired whilst engaged in a spot of nude midnight exercise; he visited the park at 11pm, stripped off all his clothes for some reason, and began exercising vigorously. He became excited. Seeing no option but to relieve his tension using the very fixture he was excersing on, he lay on it and inserted himself, and thence became trapped.

The fixtures in question were established some years ago in order to perform sit-ups on; each plate was made of iron, being 180cm by 60cm, and they were perforated with holes of some 3cm in diameter to allow drainage of rainwater…

Realising the potentially emasculating, and definitely agonising nature of his plight, he cried desperately for assistance, and eventually the fire brigade was summoned to render aid, which they did promptly (pictured above).

It was not so simple as this however; he could not be withdrawn due to the swelling, and in his agonies there was apparently little they could do for him other than tie him down and wait for medical assistance. Medical personnel soon arrived, and administered painkillers, and an ice pack to his member; this eventually allowed his excitement to subside, and for him to be evacuated to hospital.

But his ordeal did not end there – the man begged witnesses not to take pictures (which we see here), and not to take his name (his name was released in the original report), saying “I won’t be able to look people in the eye again! I’ll not be able to find a job!” The Hong Kong media gleefully reported all these details.

In the end, he was trapped in the park furniture for well over an hour, and when his engorgement eventually showed signs of subsiding, the firemen cut his partner loose with hacksaws, and with ten men carried them both to away to be hospitalised.

A little blood was all that was left of his encounter with the park. We do not hear what became of his partner.

An imaginative use of park furniture, though disturbing questions are raised. Why did he feel the need to undress? Why did he choose a hole in a park when he could have likely made his own uncomfortable 3cm hole anywhere else with no risk? Was it the spur of the moment? Most pressingly, how did he fit himself into such a small hole?

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More than just an intimate career advancement session between a secretary and her employer was abruptly cut short when a jolt to their vehicle left her biting off more than she could chew.

The 30-year-old secretary had joined her superior in a car after work at a Singapore park for a romantic liaison.

Unbeknownst to the pair, the woman’s husband was rightly suspicious of his wife, and had the pair tailed by a private investigator, who followed them to the park and there witnessed them in the car together.

Soon after the car began shaking vigorously.

However, their career development session was terminated prematurely when a van backed into their car sharply, and a loud scream from the secretary was heard. Shortly after she exited the vehicle with blood pouring from her mouth.

The private investigator summoned an ambulance, and the man was soon hospitalised. His penis biting secretary later followed with the part she had bitten off.

The investigator commented that it was the first time he had ever seen such a thing.

We do not hear whether reattachment proved possible.

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A man has been hospitalised after biting off his own penis.

The man (26), a resident of Brooklyn, New York, was discovered by police behind a building, bleeding profusely.

He was found to have bitten off the tip (presumably the glans) of his own penis, apparently by contortion.

He is now recovering in hospital. It is not clear what became of the portion of his penis he gnashed off.

Police are frank about the mystifying nature of the case: “How he did it? Limber, I guess. Not the work of a sane mind.”

He was previously accused of violating a 13-year-old girl, and was later sentenced to two months for misdemeanours.

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A woman has been charged with rape after she threatened to cut off the penis of man unless he had sex with her; when he failed to satisfy her she then scorched his penis with a curling iron.

The woman, a 23-year-old resident of Pennsylvania state, told her 22-year-old male victim she would cut open his penis and watch him bleed to death if he did not have sex with her.

She took the man to her bedroom, where she had sex with him. Not satisfied with his performance, she took a previously heated curling iron and clipped it to his ear, injuring him.

She then told him she would escalate her abuse if he failed to satisfy her; evidently still unsatisfied, she soon clipped the iron to his penis, burning and blistering it.

Her victim visited hospital the next day for treatment, where he reported the matter to police.

Police arrested the woman, who was found to be on probation after facing previous charges burglary, robbery and reckless endangerment in relation to an incident with a steak knife.

She now faces additional charges of rape, aggravated indecent assault, involuntary deviate sexual intercourse, terroristic threats and reckless endangerment.

Click here for source!

A woman has been arrested after she tied firecrackers to her boyfriend’s penis whilst he was sleeping and set them off, as she was enraged that he turned down her offer of marriage.

The Russian couple had apparently been dating for two years, and the woman felt confident enough to propose.

However, her boyfriend (33) refused, undiplomatically telling her he would rather return to his first wife and their son.

His girlfriend was infuriated by this, and hatched a plan of incredible viciousness. When her former lover was in the process of moving out to return to his former wife, she invited him to a farewell dinner, there plying him with much food and drink.

Soon he fell asleep, and his jilted lover took her chance to avenge herself. She tied several firecrackers to his penis, and lit them. They exploded with catastrophic effects.

The man was hospitalised immediately and is said to be fighting for his life. It seems probable that he was completely emasculated by the attack.

If he survives, his ex-lover will face a sentence of up to twelve years, though if he dies murder charges seem likely.

Click here for source!

[Via http://badgurl2u.wordpress.com]