I have always been more of a “lurker” than a “talker” on the internets. The social media sites are interesting. I follow people, occasionally will talk to some, but mostly I just read. I have been very scarce on the internets lately. Just haven’t been lingering on the computer online. I think it is a cycle. I will spend time, try to get a little more verbal, then retreat into barely online. I do, however like to look at pictures. I have always wanted to take pictures, good pictures, never had the patience to learn the camera settings and functions. So I look at others photos. I will still take some and try it, but mostly will reblog and post others work I find interesting. I save them from social sharing sites. Mainly Piccsy, and Tumblr. And others that I stumble upon. I save them and try to save the original info, but it doesn’t always show without clicking and saving the photo. So, by posting some of the pictures that have caught my attention, I hope I don’t offend or come across as trying to say that I am the photographer. My pictures will have my name on it. The rest, I like very much!

Yes, angry birds…. and gas masks.

Beauty.

Some pictures I like are just interesting. Some I like the subject. Others are the unsaid, what the picture invokes to me. The BDSM ones, of course are always the subject, the situation and the realism. The look on the face is what does it for me. Terror, true pain, true ecstasy, The trueness of the facial expressions. A BDSM pic of a smiling person in bondage with painful situations, ties or events just screams staged. That might not be, but it won’t catch my eye.

It is in the eyes....

Who can’t do with a little religion….

The dungeon in the hotel for Thunder in the Mountains is large. Several convention rooms opening into one large room. There was scaffolding, St Andrews crosses, benches, tables, hanging bars, and crosses. Even a jungle gym type enclosure for rope suspensions. No chintzy air conditioners are used, it is very evenly temperatured. Cold. This is good if you are doing a scene and are becoming physical. Many people in one area rises the temperature also, cold temperatures are a must for comfort. Beginning a scene as the bottom, not so good! This dungeon is set up nicely. Easy to watch and meander through to observe many scenes without intruding on others. Friday night we went semi early. It opened at nine pm. We went at about ten thirty. We wanted to do a scene. I like impact; body punching, hitting and flogging. Tutivillus has recently had surgery. He is healing, but still on the mend so we haven’t played much for a month or two. This was his first really physical scene since the surgery. We picked a cross that was hanging from the ceiling. It looked really cool. Practical, I thought. It could swing and allow me to move and jump away from punches and sticks. Yes, this one will work nicely.
I slowly undress. I leave my rainbow thigh high gym socks on. The dungeon is cold, I do not do well with cold feet. I leave my underwear on. I am not sure why I am not comfortable with having them off. That has always been a hard limit for me. I might need to explore that some time. I take a look around. The dungeon is fairly active. Not crowded or uncomfortable, even a little slow for Thunder standards. It is early though. To alleviate his burn out factor from overdoing it too soon, and just because he is sadistic- Tutivillus has brought sticks. My two new sticks and his two new sticks. They are gorgeous and solid wood. Made by hand by a friend. We were able to watch him make one of them and had picture updates on the others. It is kind of like watching a behbe grow into a child. Except these children are for hurting people and causing pain. Better than labor!
The blindfold is put on. I request the blindfold for scenes. That is one thing that I do get to choose in a scene. I am able to lose myself and just experience. The blindfold is my minds switch to let go and just be. My wrists are bound with rope. Tied to the cross, above my head. Not too tight that it affects my circulation, but tight enough that I can’t get loose. My chains are also hooked to the cross, so I can hold onto them. The cold, smooth feeling of the chains comfort me during a scene. I like having them close. Another thing I get to specify in most scenes, my chains, my friends. I felt his hands on my back, then the coolness of the hard smooth stick rolling along my back and neck. Felt like a massage, a nice deep massage. Rhythmic hitting and slapping on my back started slowly, building up. The rhythmic beatings are peaceful. Moves me into a space in my head where I can let go of all the thoughts and to dos and doubts in my head. The only time my mind is clear and nothing is important except the sensations. I could do this for hours. The rhythmic crescendo of force. Thumping wood against soft skin and muscles. Wooden sticks do not leave many marks. They are deep muscle impact. The impact vibrates through the muscles. Not much bruising to the eyes, but deep pain for days to the slightest touch. Rhythmic beating. Alternating hands with sap gloves, sticks of various sizes and thickness. They are wonderful feeling, I love these sticks. I think I mention this out loud. It might be just a thought. I am never sure if my thoughts and words are in my head or if I say them out loud. I curse myself whenever I say something to the affirmative when I am being beat by a sadist. The rhythm changes abruptly, the implements are used a little differently. They are changed about and the sensations are magnified. Not only is my body jolted, my mind will do a snap to reality for a second while it adapts to the new sensations. I sometimes float away into places where I see and feel images, places, feelings and energy. I watch and feel and see events and people. I don’t interact, it is more a feeling that comes over me as to the event I am witnessing and attending. I am always in the event, a character in the situation, but they are mere flashes of the event, no interactions with the others. Almost like a still shot but the facial features change, clothes ripple in the wind, people will move in response to the feeling. Most of these have been sad events. Recalling the most memorable places I have gone, I don’t recall any that have been happy events. Yet I am still intrigued and want to stay in these places. Changing the tempo, intensity and energy of the beating will pull me out of the event. Back to reality for a moment, then off to another once the rhythm change is adapted to in my mind.I went many places in this beating. I have been very frustrated that I can’t remember much about them. Little fragments only. Just one was different. I remember a little more of this one than the others as it was very different. I interacted. And I was me. I saw a man, he was nondescript. I don’t remember how he looked, other than the feeling of him being wise. I wanted to go through the door. He said no, it wasn’t time. I began to argue. Wham, I am standing in the dungeon cursing to no end, kicking and trying to inflict harm. I was also worried about actually kicking and making contact and doing harm. Worrying about hurting the one who was hurting me was very interesting. Maybe that is the start of the syndrome with people who are kidnapped and start sympathizing with the kidnappers.
I am now angry. I am kicking and cursing and wanting this to stop and yet not wanting it to stop. I want to go somewhere else, I want to break loose. The floating cross is now not a good idea. I have no sight, the blindfold is still in place, I have lost the perception of where I am. Am I standing, or am I floating, am I facing north, south, east or west? The quietness of my mind is now against me. I feel off kilter in my ability to distinguish where anything is, where is the beating coming from. The closest thing I can think of is how it would feel to be in the ocean. No boat, just floating. After hours in the sun and miles and miles of water, the reflections are making a mirage of uncertainty. Then the stability. Tutivillus puts his arms around me, I think I say something, he asks if I am done. I say no. Just a break. I am not sure if I say we are done after a few minutes or not, I remember saying not yet when he asks if I am ready to go again. I remember being taken off the cross and the blindfold coming off. I pull the blanket over my eyes. The bright lights of the dimly lit dungeon are too much at first. I just lay in Tutivilluses arms for a while. I like that place. Laying with him, holding him close, feeling his touch.