Blog

I’ve been blogging for ages in a crappy “journal” system on a free dating site for kinky people.  I finally had the time (read: nothing urgent to do) so I copied over all the best stuff and it’s now I can finally write with the intended paragraphs, links, and so forth.  Hooray!

Accessorize

The black leather collar with the locking clasp is general purpose kink sessions.  The blue fur lined is for resting and it chains to the bed.  The purple rope choker is for long trips, and can be removed for inappropriate social occasions without punishment.  The spiky red is for limit play.  The green dog collar is for light OTK. The brown thong necklace can we worn outside in summer without stares or sweating, and the white silver necklace with stones is for any season.  If there was an orange collar it would be the “treat me like I’m nothing.”

Now if I give you a choice of colours, what will you pick?

4chan.org/fit

Q: Masturbation or Sex, which is better?

A: Masturbation < Sex.

Sweat’s dripping off your nose as she locks her ankles around your ass and you pull her head back by the hair as her nails claw into your back and you’re both grunting like stuck pigs and then you lean in and you bite her shoulder and she goes off like a rocket begging “Please, Sir, can I come?”

…compared to sitting in your dark little room, pjs around your ankles, gettin it on with Downy two ply and thepiratebay.

While you think about it, GTFO!

9/11: the new religion?

9/11 truth is a religion.

No, seriously.  Stop laughing and think about it.  It has a semi-mythical devil.  (In fact it has a few.)  It has a sacrifice – not of god’s son, but of thousands of average people.  it has it’s own calendar – they even named their faith after the starting date so no one would ever get confused about it.  It has an volume of literature and people making money off of the faith left and right.  It has a heirarchy of leaders, recruiters, etc.  It has grudging acceptance in the public eye, half the people thinking they’re crackpots and the others thinking “well, as long as someone believes I can be reformist=lazy”.  What they need now is a place to congregate and worship.  What they need is a Haj to New York.  What they need are lapel pins so they can recognize each other and tell curiosity seekers “have you heard about the conspiracy?”  What they need is tax-exempt status.  What they need is to stop leaving pamplets on my doorstep before they get a piece of big angry dog.

I’ll say this in their favor: it’s the only religion I know of where the followers are trying to destroy their gods.

Safewords

I’ve been thinking about safewords.  “Red light” seems like such a retarded signal.  Sure, OK, everybody understands.  But we’re not playing Naughty Traffic Cop, are we?  Evil Civil Engineer?  No no.

I think the most appropriate phrase would be my first name.  When we’re in a scene you will address me as “Sir” or “Master” because that’s who I am:  I’m your dom, I hold your life in my hands and I’m the trickster who keeps joking about letting it slip through my fingers.  Whoops!  Nearly got away from me that time!  Zounds, it sure is slippery.  Compare that to when I’m just Dan: I’m your boyfriend, your lover, your confidant, your friend.  That guy is as close to vanilla as I get.  That guy isn’t into seeing you hurt by anyone.  That guy would untie you in a second.

How do you Dominate a steak you’re about to grill?

1. Remove from saran wrap binding (boo hoo, I know)
2. Lovingly tenderize with a hammer.
3. Slowly sharpen the biggest knife you have right next to the meat, then “trim the fat”. Caution: Extreme edge play!
4. Cover the wide, flat surface with kosher salt. Let sting for 15 minutes. Flip over and repeat.
5. Water torture: rinse off the salt
6. Order the stake to shut up and hold still. Feel free to give it another tender whack, just to be sure.
7. Get out your sparker and give the meat The Look. Light the barbeque while practicing your best menacing laugh.
8. Make a big show of preheating the grill to ~350 while taunting, debasing, and humiliating the meat. See if you can get it to say the safeword.
9. Find the largest, sharpest motherfucker of a devil pitchfork that you can. Gently pierce the meat, suspend it, and then lower it over the hot coals.
10. luxuriate in the sizzling sound for about 30s, then flip it over and repeat. Both sides should be nicely carmelized.
11. Close the lid for 2 minutes. Have a drink. Tap on the lid and ask if it’s dark enough in there. Ask “are you my tasty little treat?”
12. Open the lid. Stab the meat violently. Flip it suddenly. Slam the lid back down for 2 minutes. Taunt the meat about how you are a great big ogre who’s going to snap the meat right up and EAT IT. Feel free to belly laugh.
13. Open the lid, stab the meat one more time, and hoist it onto a plate or tray.
14. Look at it’s limp form! See how unresponsive it is? Don’t you just feel so connected? It’s like the meat is off in a better place or something.
15. Garnish, present to family, friends, catholic priest, your spouse, etc.

I think this weekend I’m going to take the time to set up my own blog (at last!)

Instinct

We’re sophisticated monkeys, evolved from rodents, evolved from lizards, evolved from fish.  We’re one of the only species that represses our instinct to violence for our individual benefit (because, when you think about it, collective benefit IS individual benefit).  So far the plan seems to be working – we’re the dominant species on the planet and the only thing keeping our population in check is ourselves.

There’s just the nagging problem of our repressed instinct.  I think it’s what drives most people to random acts of violence – having no socially acceptable way of releasing pressure, they turn to placebos like wrestling or bottle it up and explode in domestic violence or murder.

So, frankly, I’m a little surprised there aren’t more people into BDSM.  The release felt has often been described – and treated – as quasi-religious: ceremonies, traditions, pennance, and, of course, rapture. For people to whom religion often means very little, it’s a great game:  You be Jesus, I’ll be the Roman.

Ah, life.

Good news: the business I started is doing well and has enough finances to run for several months.

Bad news: In order to do that I’m taking home so little pay that I’m burning my cash reserves to pay bills.

Ugh.

Listen closely, now.

mmhmm, preach on.

Why are there no porno podcasts in audio only?

Ok, here’s my latest drunken raving.  Rambling, perhaps.  Incoherent and loud, certainly.  Whatever.

My thought is this: don’t make a home porno movie.  Make a home porno audio recording.  Let’s look at the advantages:

1. People don’t have to see your low production value.  You don’t need cameramen, multiple angles, editing, or lighting.
2. You don’t have to worry about being ugly.  People will picture you as whatever they want to believe.  In a stranger’s mind, you’re as sexy as your voice.  You DO have a sexy voice, right?  Of course you do.  You naughty minx.
3. Audio porn only makes sense if you describe everything you’re doing as you do it.  A recording of moans and smacks isn’t nearly as sexy as “ooh, i’m going to tease you with this now.  You like it?”  “Oh, yeah, baby.”  “You want some more?”  “Oh, please, master!”  “Mmm… I like that.”  (and so on.)
4. Audio porn will never end up on youtube.  That means you have plausible deniability.  Your face wrapped around some ex-con’s schlong is pretty final.  Your voice on a tape could be anybody’s voice.  with the same nickname.  What?  It’s a small world!  There could be more than one.
5. Audio teaches you to talk dirty (see #3).
6. Getting a good microphone is cheap.  Hell, you can get a bunch for the price of one camera.  Also, they don’t have annoying blinking lights on the front in case you’re trying to record… clandestin like.
7. MP3 files of your adventures don’t take up nearly as much room as full screen video.  If you do share it, you don’t need a T1 connection

Erm, that’s all I can think of for now.  I’m going to finish this bottle of wine and deal with the redhead who’s wrapped herself around my waist and proclaimed that my hands belong to her.  G’night.