Cry, Baby

No matter how many times that you told me you wanted to leave. No matter how many breaths that you took, you still couldn't breathe. No matter how many nights that you lie wide awake to the sound of the poison rain. Where did you go? Where did you go? Where did you go?

I walked in the door and was slapped in the face with a cold wind. You - lightning in your eyes, thunder in your voice, and the cold wall cloud to protect your core. I saw some of the beginnings, but I didn't know it would end up like this. I wasn't there for the forecast. Storm warning: hurricane. As we start to leave, the rain began to fall in you for a moment. Still building. Me, I am rage and fury. Tighter, denser.

As days go by, the night's on fire.

Three hours to get you there. I knew not what to expect when we GOT there, other than what I knew what was in that car. A hurricane spouting and feeding a tornado. There was a tamer for you where we were headed, that was true. I was hoping, no, praying that the feeder current wasn't going to be. You needed the tamer. You needed your promised release. I needed.... something. Something to eb the controlled rage, the pinpoint area that could be destruction. Tame myself, calm it, just get us there.

'You know, if you don't get that anger off of your face, you're going to scare someone.'

'If it helps, I'll scene with you. It's probably foolish of me to offer, a sacrifice, but I think I can handle it. I know I can handle pain.' [If what you need is to hurt someone]

No matter how many deaths that I die I will never forget. No matter how many lives that I live, I will never regret. There is a fire inside of this heart and a riot about to explode into flames. Where is your God? Where is your God? Where is your God?

Do I trust myself with that statement? Am I living a lie? I rage, nowhere near as much as you in truth, but I do rage. He is only worth my rage by now. Blind fury.

But, at an aside, without that rage, regardless of everything - do I trust how I would react in a scene with you at any time? Do I KNOW how I would react? It's been a very long time and almost another emotional life for both of us. No, I suppose I don't know how I will react. That's why I emphasised a lot of negotiation. Stalling. Building myself into a new skin. Rules to be set again, better this time. If I don't give you my all in a scene because of doubt and how much I've changed... Do I really want to throw caution to the wind and give it my all again, like last time? Like the first time? That one hesitant kiss that started it all for me? I.... I really don't know. I don't know where I'd be.

A scene as a bottom to me - not just play, but a true SCENE - is something special. I don't let myself go, connect with people that often. I'm vulnerable. I'm open. The ones that scene with me see into a part of me that is really hard to relenquish. For a short time, I'm yours to manipulate. I'm yours to destroy, or build in a mould of pain or feeling. Completely yours. I am a controlled sensationist because I have an addiction to what I hide and control... to what I need at the same time as I'm addicted to numbing it. I need to feel. Ice, stingy pain, needles, a hand in my hair or on my back, stroking, caressing... That's when I can FEEL something. I let someone see me, by letting me feel. I am that. Just as I, once, avoided all physical contact with people. Just as when I chose my name, I was called the ice bitch. No feeling; exuding cold. Absolute control. Where will I be? Can I trust where I'll be? Can I trust myself? No, not really... Yes. No. I suppose I'm afraid of that most of all.

Do you really want? Do you really want me? Do you really want me dead, or alive to torture for my sins? Do you really want? Do you really want me? Do you really want me dead, or alive to live a lie?

You had spoken of getting a scene with me. Calm, rational me didn't quite believe it. Past patterns. Past truth. It was not the most logical thoughts that made me believe that you don't want to scene with me. I was trusting what I'd seen before. Spoken words, negotiations, pawned off to another scene or ignored for someone higher on the list. I wasn't what you needed. Not that I blame anyone; it was how it was. No, I lived a lie to myself. I blame myself for it all. I made you uncomforterable. I wasn't worth the ride, the storm. I wasn't what you needed. You always needed someone else, something else. I was never it. Accepted it. You couldn't deal with a woman, with me. It didn't matter now, I could see you needed someone else tonight. I may have prayed for a scene once upon a time. I may have expected something once. Now, no, I think I'll reserve it. I think I'll be safe. Safety is not hoping... not feeling. Reserve myself.

You're my sister and you need my support. You need me to get you there, to the arms of what you DO need, and to accept that it is what you need. You need me to support you, to be there. Stand strong next to you. I get it. I do. I will. I've been there for a long time, now. I accept it, no regrets. I love you, I will support you as much as I can. We're family. I don't have that raw need to play with you any more. The need to be yours. That love was changed, warped, and I've moved into something else. I am something else.

I do have a tornado building, though. I'll take what I can get tonight, from whoever I trust that is willing. I'll find someone - something. Superficial, but something. Some pain or something. Or I won't. I'm not that important right now... I'm a bodyguard. Maybe, with luck, I can destroy. The bigger storm might begin and I can take some solace in what I'm trained for. No, that wouldn't be luck. That wouldn't be wise. Better to rage inside and carve the swath in a small diameter. Bring it in, bring it in. Spin, spin, down...

"You're not helping. Let me deal with it how I need to."

Cold wind again. Yes, I needed that. Adjust and ride it out. Soon, I'll get you where you need to be. Soon. Climb the stairs, I have your back. Clutch the sword.

The promises we made were not enough. Never play the game again. The prayers that we have prayed were like a drug. Never gonna hit the fear. The secrets that we sold were never known. We had to let it go. Never giving in again, never giving in again.

He IS here. He is here. The asshole, the little manipulative... I want to take this sword..... So is your protector, your confidant. I can leave you in capable hands. The hurricane can get what she needs. Reaching land, and winding down. Good. That is all I wanted for you tonight. I... I can spawn off and destroy what little I have to before going back up to the clouds. My lungs. Kill the feelings with cloves. Yea, that'll be good.

She's here? The storm's gone for a moment... I sit with friends.

He's playing with her. He's playing with HER. What the hell is she doing? I will... I will not... I will not interviene. I will give a storm warning when she's done. She's playing with firestorms; tossing sand on the ground, thinking she'll be safe. We watch. I spin and drop, bent to destroy.

It is not my perogative. It is not my buisness. I may worry, I may sit with friends and keep out of the path. But, so help me, I will give in to destruction if he so much as... I tell another the story, your story, the pieces so she can watch out for the blaze with me.

The scene ends. She knows my storm, or has an inkling of how much I'm raging. She trusted the public to keep her safe because she needed to play rough in the flames. A new bunny, he rushes and the cross falls. A snicker from me, and the storm abates slowly. She's ok. Although it knocked at your scene, you're also ok. I will not give in. I will let the storm ebb enough to show her my new toys. Egg her on to swing - an impulse. Pain, good pain, and the storm is gone. I hang on to the suspension ring and relax for the first time this night. An honor to be her first sadistic moment with a victim. Ahh, truth, sweet truth. Let the pain continue, but not too far. I do need to save myself. I have another scene tonight?

I guess I will hope. What do I have to lose? I do know I've been here before. I know what there is. It's different now. It's not reject - just a different truth. I serve what purpose I am here to serve, no more. No less.

He's here? Good. If it comes down to it, I can give in to another kind of lightning. Crackling against my skin. Good.

Tell me, would you kill to save a life? Tell me, would you kill to prove you're right? Crash, crash, burn - let it all burn. This hurricane's chasing us all underground.

"DO you want your scene with me?"

Like that question can push an ounce of doubt in me now. I'd kill myself again, surely. Shoot my own foot off. This time, though, I know where I can go. What's acceptable. I know where you are and where I am. Where I need to be. I need to let it all go for the moments, and pull myself back again once it's over. The only promise is this once. I understand. I understand completely.

And I do trust you.

We begin.

Naked, strapped to a cross, I trust you. I need to abandon fear like I did once a long time ago. I need to trust you to help me. Break me. I handed the tool to you. A bit of glass. Everything, including how far I go, is in your hands.

I surrender myself again, in this moment. I step into the new hurricane. This one isn't rage or hurt, no, it's release. Let it all burn, all these walls and protections and comfort. These thoughts that still burn at my core, eating me alive. The wind is whipping up all of the debris, scouring. I may hate myself, I may hate what I am, but this time, I'll kill it. Let go, let go. The hurricane can chase it all away for this moment. Underground. Flood the streets. This one moment. This one promise. Let it all go, surrender. Submit.

"It's been a long time."

Yes. Yes it has.

How far will I let myself be taken? Where will I go?

To battle is the only way we feel... alive.

Sharp stings and a brush through my hair. Unexpected swat against the sensation, a staccato. Pounding, aching, I don't know how much I can take... but I stretch into it. Stretch myself. Battle the pain and the memories combined, the little voice screaming. Let myself feel the caresses. A moment becomes a thousand, as time stops all together. You give me my voice. The whimpers, the shy glances, me biting my lip. I'm shy this time with my expressive face. I've fallen into the good slave. Take it for you, for me, the line blurred a long time or a short time ago. Somewhere in those blue eyes and grins, smirks, the joy in pain shared. I really can't tell.

'You're beautiful.'

It's an enigma. Reality is an enigma. I don't believe it in my core, but... my core does believe you. I trust you. Am I? Really? No, yes, no, yes, drop. Hypnotized space. Sub space. I must be. Because I believe you. You've said I am. You continue, you want to keep at me. I must be. Am I beautiful? Drop further. Am I really worth...?

You said it again.
I am? I am.
Thank you, ma'am.

So here we are, the witching hour. The quickest tongue to divide and devour. If I could end the quest for fire, for truth, for love and my desire. Myself.

I watched most implements you picked up. Some of them, anyway. This time, though, you reach for glass.... you reached for glass?!? Small panic, fear, the voice starts back up... no, I do NOT do this, I can not...

I trust you. Drop again. Submit to it. Desire, because it's what I want. It's who I am. An exhibitionist forced... repressed... someday to be free. I trust you to take the steps to let me taste what freedom is.

And I explode. That's the quickest I ever have. The hurricane is inside, broken windows - ravaging, moaning, whipping up the tempest to scour away the flagstones. Louder? I don't know how I can, but I do. Somehow. A bit. The shame of it, of me... To begin anew by tearing apart. Three times and I hit the eye of the storm. Absolute calm, absolute acceptance. I am beautiful and I am worth playing with. I'm worth the show. I'm worth my submission. I'm beautiful? I'm gone.

With no warning, the rain begins to fall from my eyes. The other side, the wall breaks over me.

And I fell apart, but got back up again.

I have no idea what... why am I sobbing? I'm broken and confused. My walls, my strength... I do not cry. I do not sob uncontrollably. Someone may have found a trigger reciently, but I gained control of that trigger. Quickly. I don't cry in public. Not here. NOT...

But this time, I weep. In shock - I have no idea how. Fear for a moment, because I can be SEEN. Without those bonds, I would have dropped. You bring me down from the cross, into your lap and I continue to pour it all out. Is it pain leaving me? I don't know, I don't... I'm so confused, bewildered... A hand on my back. You're still here. I trust you... time to let it all go. I have no idea what it is, but it's past time. Just immerse myself in it. Let the rain fall for once.

A voice in my head speaks once. Just once. I've calmed down a little bit, but it speaks. 'You should be ashamed - it's shameful to do that in public. To want THAT.' A clock of debris to the head - It's not going to let me go! In a moment, I realize it wasn't HIS voice this time. It wasn't.... that voice was me. Masculine me, sure, my "strength." But this time it's coming from ME. I trust you enough that I can ignore that voice of me.

Ride it out. Ride the storm. Keep releasing everything. Don't let that voice keep me from being alive - from FEELING. I'm so raw, and yet... still confused. Stunned. Quit questioning and submit to the rain. I was called stoic, but it was all a cover for who I am. Now I'm raw. You've let a piece of the world see... me.

I gain control enough to slow down. Stop. Pull myself back up to when and where I am. The storm's over. The streets are clear, bare. That wall, though, it's time to rebuild. Apologise, because I did not expect to let walls down like THAT. Ever. I did not expect that sand wall, then the brick and stone, to collapse and flood the streets and into my home core. But, through that... all of that...

You're still there. You're still? You're still there.

My sister is still here. She held me. Safe.

Time to stand up. Go back to life. Go back on home, put that face back on. Come on back....

~30 Seconds to Mars - Hurricane, Alibi

A Lesson in Time

WARNING - a fucking novel and a novel fucking

Thank you to the people that did this to me. You know who you are. I still can't believe that I did what I did - and held out that long.

4:50 pm

Spread-eagled, spread out: spread open in all senses. I let you two tie me to the bed with the red rope like errant children 'playing' with the babysitter in an alternate, sensory world. Clover clamps stretch already sore and bruised nipples from a scene a few days ago; the chain acts as a gag to a mouthy, squirming girl. She's been tickling me, but he thinks it's time to stop the bouncing... a bit of string over the headboard, a few weights, and a chain later and bouncing is out of the question.

I hear the distinctive buzz. There's two of them. Hitachis. One mini, one regular sized.

"She should be home from work soon... I bet she'd LOVE to walk in on this little number. Think we can string her out until then?"

"Wait... you mean I have to wait to cum until she comes home?"

"You're done after one?"

"No.... I'm multi.... but I thought that's what you meant?"

"Now that you mention it, yes. You're not going to cum until she gets home. Should be at 5:15 or so."

5 pm

An explosion of sensations. More weights, more touches, more caresses, more tickling. More. Just... more. The large hitachi is a wave, the small one an explosion of feeling. She's working on the waves now and I'm fighting. Fighting to stay here... it's not that much longer.

Except he's bringing the small hitachi and tangling it into the cord tension. The clamps are on a spasming rhythm that I'm not allowed to have.

5:05pm

He brought in an ice tray. A short reprieve for a struggling girl; the ice is a familiar sting amplified by time and the summer heat. She joins him in creating an ice ecstasy away from the vibrations.

He takes off one of the clamps and I'm in absolute agony. No, please, no, don't put that back on! Please!

"So, are you going to hold all that weight on one nipple?"

Nope. That's what my mouth is for.

5:10

She'll be home soon. Really soon. They've ramped it up; both clamps may be gone, but that freed up the small hitachi. She's doing her damnedest to insert the large hitachi inside of me. So tight, it's painful. I can't... move, I can't..... The ice in his hands steals my breath away.

5:20

She's... not back. Not yet. The large hitachi didn't fit, so they've brought the ice down to bounce above the hitachis vibrating on my entrance, above my clit. I really have no idea who is where now. Eyes wide shut to the overload. I....

I.... will.... not.....

I will not cum. I will fight this.

He brings out the punch and regular daggers.

5:30

A break; a reprieve. I had to beg for them to stop for a short time because theyalmost broke me. She checks her phone; there's a message.

"I thought you guys knew I got out of work at 5:30? I'll be home soon."

Oh, fuck. Fuck you all and the horses you rode in on. May you be damned. Or myself for forgetting when she gets home. Or someone. Or something. I really can't remember anything about now but the fight.

5:35

She's mastered the fingering technique by now for me and I'm having one hell of a time not succumbing. They both gang up on my breasts, but she uses teeth. Fuck, ouch, goddamn.... wait a minute. Pain. Use the pain to your advantage to forget what's going on between your legs.

"May I please have pain?"

"Oh, I have an idea. Do you want to be a zebra? I can give the insides of your thighs stripes and make you squirm"

Anything to keep me from orgasms. Anything. Bring on that fucking cane made from the window shade adjuster. She's going to keep working that little hitachi, the little fucker. That goddamn little pinpointed fucker.

5:45

The stripes are even too much for me by now. Warmed up, no place to go but into pain, and I can only take one good snap across the inside of both of my thighs.

And still the buzzing goes on. This time, she's inserted the smaller one into me.

5:55

They've figured out my secret. I HAVE to work harder than ever now. They know that insertion and laughing is torture because it hits just the right spot in a rhythm. Leaving a vibrating /thing/ in me doesn't do much - but the motion of deep to shallow and back again? She'd better open that thrice cursed door soon. So help me.

They found the second large hitachi? Three in a row on up and I'm fighting the bonds. I'm crunched up as much as I can. I'm pulling and pulling and...

I have to... I have to beg once more for a break. A short reprieve. Something. Pain? I'll take the tubing paddle of evil under my breasts. On my thighs. Yes, anything to keep me here and sane. Soon, help me, soon.

6:00

She walks into the door. I swear, I've been holding back so long that I don't know if I can let anything come forth. My fear, my deepest worry right now is if I ask her and I'm not allowed anything. If I have to wait even longer. Or can't if she says 'yes' and I disappoint.

But, this time, they attack with vigor that means business. This time I don't have to ask for a break. I don't have to hold the worst of everything in.

I can escape. I can let everything... everything go. My body shyness and sensitivity that sometimes I'm not the body that I feel like I should be. I can let go of the past and some hurt, some damage. I can be a bit reckless this time. I can orgasm in front of three people. ON CUE. Hot damn.

She says to let go, and I do.

She says to hold on, and I stop one in the middle of attempting to peak. Just in time. I wait for her command. I wait. I beg. I plead. I groan and squirm; pump my hips and ask for the hitachi deeper.

She tells me when to make them hard and good or when to let them come small and in a row. A few that roll I can't help. I beg harder the next time.

6:20

15 orgasms later under their count and I'm a mass on the bed.

I think I might have learned something... if I can conceive to think at all. Timeliness? I might have to spend more attention on it in the future. There's no telling what important things some people are waiting on you for.

Game? On.

Saturday night was holy. Sacred. Poker night with the boys could not be missed for any excuse; not only were you not invited back, but you were excluded from the club forever more. The game was serious business.

I couldn't believe I was invited this week as one of the men.

Donning a pinstripe suit and fedora, cigar in hand, packing and ready, it was time to play. Ace high to start the pool; wasn't a terrible hand, but I wanted to test the waters and judge the other four men around the table. Aha, there. As I lose my money, I notice Mr. Purple Tie to my right has a nervous tick to his mouth, Left side. Fantastic.

Time to lay down the bets. I have a pair of twos so far. Let's go... wait a minute. Is that a ring gag in the center of the table? Interesting.

"Ok, gents. You know the rules. No more monetary bets."

The serving girl has a nervous smile while she nods, four hungry looks in her direction and a quizzical one. Well then.

The dark green shirt wins that hand and takes up the ring gag with impetus. Grabbing her wrist and looking forcefully into her eyes he commands attention. "I suggest you strip." Cold, calculating. She trembles as she does so, his hand on her shoulder. Once unclothed, he grabs her neck in a choke with one hand and works the bit into her mouth with the other. He looks over his shoulder once the gag is in place and she is subdued. "Mike, you were a disgrace last week. You let her fight you. You obviously need more practice."

We worked through hands including cuffs, spreader bars, rope... until we got to an egg device with a remote control. I won the hand with three of a kind kings. I could see a bit of interest around the table as to how I would get on, considering my less than commanding disposition. Very well, then.

I stand, cigar in hand, and take a hit before moving to the trussed up woman on the floor. I regard her for a moment, relishing her fear at an unknown person touching her in such an intimate place. With a smirk, I drop ash across her chest. Ah, now there's that cute little tremble; a rabbit getting stared down. Kneeling, a finger is all I need to test the waters. She's almost ready.... I get a gasp as I bring my finger up and across her clit before smearing it across her knee. No emotion but a cruel smile. "Gents, I do believe you need to train them better as well." I work the egg into the ring gag just enough to moisten it on both sides before insertion. I turn back to the table and hear a slight moan; I had turned on and off the remote in quick succession on the way back to my seat. I get a nod from Mr. Dark Green Shirt before we pick up the remaining hands. The remote hits the center bid several times; we all were searching for control and we won several times.

"Last hand, gents" came the final call.

A condom hit the center of the table.

Balls to the wall

I was once told to never show up at a party again in 'those old clothes.' I took that to mean dresses and high heels. Corsets. Feminine sexy.

 But I feel sexy like this too, damn it. Those heels are only half of me.

 Entering the crowded room, I suspect there will be murmurs, glances, hushed conversations and looks. I feel sexy damn it. This side is not afraid to scream 'fuck you.' I'm willing to pick a fight. I'm willing to get raw, dirty, filthy and primal. Fuck the people that want the heels. The pretty little piece of ass, pussy and tits. Fuck you, people that want the pretty package, the box checked off, the smoldering look from long, curled lashes. Fuck you for thinking my jeans, my athletic wear wasn't as much a part of me. Fuck you, who only sees the perky tits framed high in the corset or bra. Tomorrow I'll agree with you. Tomorrow I'll put on the dress you like and feel sexy as sin. Tomorrow I'll be that someone else. I was yesterday. That other half.

 Tonight, I'm the side I hated. The side I hide.

 Athletic shorts, a black wifebeater. Simple, really. They hide compression bras and a jock strap. Fuck yes, I'm packing; a weighty bulge between my legs that feels right in this moment. Do you know what I want? I want a fight. A knock-down, hardcore brawl. Grappling on the floor, sweating, pinned. I want shoved up against a wall, across a table, face-first onto the floor. Ass high. I want my hair pulled while you make me roar. Fill my ass while I feel my 'package' bouncing. Balls deep, balls to the wall. You want this bitch, this boi? You think you're man enough to take me when I have the balls to say 'make me?' I dare you to break my boi. Make my boi pay for saying 'fuck you.' Challenge him. Best him using your mind, your control. If you don't - if you can't. If you're not man enough? I'll shove my 'dick' in YOUR face.

 It's that simple.

Yes, I am a cynical bastard at 1 am

Again, I suppose it's about time for one of those damn novels. This time, though, I'm afraid it's not going to be about my past, getting better, or any of that. I can't even promise rainbows. I can't sleep after a conversation and a hell of a lot of thinking (which happens when I'm not on meds and I quit smoking... Sorry if this turns into stream of conscious and sounds MUCH different from other writings. That's why.) I also found my way back to the online component of kink in <small> doses. So, I suppose I'm looking for opinions while I'm being brutal and honest. To those that I speak to about such things, this is NOT an attack on anyone or how they handle stuff. This is a cynical (and slightly sarcastic) attack on myself, the way I view things/have handled things lately, and I suppose a narrative on how fucked up my mind really is because I don't know what the hell is going on. I'm probably going to end up inadvertently hurting several someones along the way of me writing this. Go ahead and kick my ass the next time you see me. I deserve it, for everything.

Ok, so topic. Yea, what was I thinking about?

Connection. That's it.

So, you meet someone. There's a spark. You know, an electric current or something - what you think of as a 'bond'. [Random tangent, I'm thinking hydrogen bonding here. Bueh?] You know the feeling, right? The world shifts three degrees to the right, you have a jolt, and the next thing you know, you're on your mental ass. No rhyme or reason to it, but it's there. You /hope/ it's mutual.

Bit of flirting (or play, or whatever), next thing you know, you're getting emotionally attached. WTF? You try to keep some logical perspective, you try to control yourself, but sometimes it gets away from you. Logic doesn't always win. Hell, I'm sure there's people out there that go based on that gut shit alone. I've done it before, much to my... erm... later dismay?

Here's where the question is.

How much do YOU trust something like that (that internal spark thinger in yourself)? How do you HANDLE something like that? Is it worth it?

I guess I've been bitch-slapped too much or I'm going back to being an all-logical creature, 'cause I'm not ready to completely trust that fucker again. What does that connection even MEAN if you don't know someone? Oh, my biology is telling me my clock is ticking and I need someone to get into my pants. (read that as sarcasm poking fun at what's going through my head in my own situation and also poking a hell of a lot of fun at how 'logical' I can be sometimes when it's not what I think I want in the end? - biology ahoy.) Ok, so, not completely. I actually am attracted to you. Great. So........... um............ who are you again? Why the fuck is it that I have to restrain myself from jumping you when I should be all cool 'n savvy 'n under control? Oh, no. Not again. Fuck this. No WAY. THUD Now I'm stuck in I-donno-what-the-hell-ville. One side of my head s jumping off the emotional bridge already without checking that there's a bungee cord attached while the actual thinking side had one eyebrow up, shaking her head and starting for the back where she keeps the hurricane plywood.

These questions come about mainly because I'm stuck in fifteen rocks, a boulder on my shin, and a log thoroughly plastered to my chest. I've had that electric current before. I've been stuck in it in a few directions at once. It hasn't gone so hot on a few occasions. There's the 'I have the current! AWAY!!!!' and it's not mutual. Or I'm too chicken shit to do anything and THEN I find out it's not mutual. Or it's mutual but I'm still too chicken shit to do much because IT COULD HURT OMG. Or, hey, all signs are that it is mutual... just kidding! Then there's the worst - people get hurt when the mutual doesn't happen. Either side can be brutal from my perspective. I'm either already invested and then have to deal with emotional shit that I REALLY don't do well with (rejection, which leads to guilt because I did something so wrong like become an annoyance by being emotionally attached/it's ok, they deserve the best and I ain't it/ self-loathing and self criticism/yea... keep going. It may or may not be TRUE, but that's where the emotional half of my mind goes. The logic has a fight about then.) or I feel like shit because someone else is and I'm just not there. I know what that's like on that other side, so I feel guilty, which leads to 'what the fuck did I DO to lead them on and how can I fix it..........' (again, may or may not be true. Mind inserts a lot of crazy shit, j0) Let's just say I don't do well in any of these scenarios. If there's ever multiple scenarios going on at once? Good god, I need a padded room, a muzzle, and restraints.

Me, I'm an emotional retard anyway. (pardon the phrasing, but it's meant as I have a deficit in being able to handle them. I mean it pretty literally.) I don't handle emotional context in regards to myself very well. I'm GREAT at seeing everyone else and their relationships/how they feel/outside empathy- for some reason I can help people. Got that shit down pat. But interactions with me? Yea, fucking blind as a bat and I don't trust what I do see. Then I have a tenancy to, if I so choose to let any emotion come into a connection, drop HARD.

Actually, while rambling, I keep coming back to an internal question that I have no good answer for.

Is any of it worth it?

I suppose I betray how negative and hypocritical I am. I can see 'yes' with most everyone else. They can handle other people well enough (sometimes with help from the peanut gallery) that they can find.... something. Happiness, or... well, I don't know what they find, exactly. For me, in my head, I have yet to find evidence that negates the current screaming 'no'. I can't control other people, sure, but I can control what I do. Where I go. To an extent, how far I'm willing and how fast I'm willing to go somewhere that's going to fucking hurt.

I'm thinking (again, finally, THOUGHT! Took you damn long enough.) it's not a good idea for me, the simpleton wonder, to jump in with both feet on something when I have no idea what the hell is going on. So, for now, the Certari is going to attempt to go glacial and slow the fuck down. To a CRAWL. I give up on this spark thing... I give up on the random REALLY DEEP PLAY - connection with play partner I have no idea about! - OMG thud! I think I'm going to choose logic when it comes to interpersonal relationships. A bit more superficial in the play market. I have been forcibly steered in that direction lately anyway, so I'm acknowledging it and keeping it in the forefront, dammit. The spark is great for a direction to say 'hey, my body likes you! My mind is gonna take five (months or so?) to catch up and figure out where we all are in this mess. Mk?'

That which yields

Sometimes that sharp sting brings me home.

Once upon a time, there was a girl that could not cry. Not anatomically, no, she was fully capable. It was in her mind; that seed planted by decades of conditioning that to be weak was unacceptable. Pride was in a stoic facade and grace. She learned, in that point, that to be weak brought pain. Weakness was pain. To show pain was weakness.

But it's funny how time and wisdom can warp even the most devout things.

Once upon a time, she ran. Not because she enjoyed the physical exertion or the camaraderie, although there was some amount of it involved. No, it began as a command and evolved into the endurance. The pain held onto a body not meant or built for the seven plus mile haul she forced upon it. She found the fog there - the moments when the mind doesn't recognize anything because the body over reached what it think it can do. She found the sting of muscles there. She learned how to endure broken bones and sprains to keep going; to overcome pain and weakness. By dropping into a fog, she didn't have to feel the pain. She didn't have to be weak. She didn't have to be.

Even then, the fog warped and took over. She lost a lot to it, and over the years she had lost even the memory of how cleansing pain was. It was then that she became truly weak.

As things have a tenancy to, everything comes full circle. In the land of whips and chains, where weakness is not really weakness but a given gift and a strength of itself, she found the sting of memory, time, and emotions. The sharp crack of rejection and the ache of want. It erodes away at the blank control of everything. It reminds her that she is, indeed, human. That she does, indeed, feel something sometimes. Instead of a firm grasp and a tight hand, she sometimes has no control over how she will face the unknown sensations, or people, or events. That in order to feel, she needs to yield. But to yield, she is not weak.

Every time I feel the sharp crack against my skin, I'm reminded that I am home. home is where the pain is...

and the joy. The ache and the want. The desire. Sometimes, even sometimes, in the feeling. And for that, I think, I'm no longer weak.

How to: Arm Restraint development

stockroom.com - JT's Stockroom

During the creative process of snoring, I tend to come up with some of the wildest ideas for random building projects. A little over a week ago I had an idea that might actually work well.

It started with the concept of rope and quick release. I'm not a rope slut, despite getting tied up often, and after seeing how long it takes for rope to be removed from a person who's already in a red zone (without cutting the rope), I wondered if there was a way to create the same binding feeling of arm restraint with a quick release system. AHA! I thought, they do make those sorts of items in restraints - but those things are damned expensive. They're usually made out of leather, which needs breaking in, they're huge and you can't normally store them easily like rope. They require a heck of a lot of care (leather? Yea)... and finally, you wouldn't want to cut through them if there was a serious issue.

So, while looking at the lovely backsides of these two ladies, it got me to pondering. What could I do with simple materials that don't cost much to have the same basic effect of the lady above, while being as minimalist as the lady at left... and still be functional? Hm..... I have a bitch-ton of paracord. I know I have an extra dog collar and leash around here somewhere. O.O Holy balls, batman, I got it!

Cuffs and a main back line, all connected with quick release bearings. HAH! So, pardon the anatomical model (it's what I have floating in my car in paper form... might as well transfer to digital in the same format). The idea is, when connected, the restraint will be at the same level as Miss dragonfly due to wrist locks and above the elbow locks. If the main line is adjusted to bring in the arms as much as comfortably possible... the body will immobilize the arms straight anatomically unless you're double jointed. Using a locking system (like actual locks or specific screw type joints, it's hard for the person in them to get out, but easy for the person monitoring to release the bound one quickly. QED.

So, the next question is, how the hell am I going to make the cuffs wide enough out of paracord? Those bracelets are nice, but with regular D rings.... I don't want the D rings to slip. Hm...... Aha! Found a tutorial for a really wide bracelet. Now we're in business.

So far, I have the main wrist restraints done to fit me... and I'm working on the upper arm restraints. We shall see if they work as expected. =) On another note, the party this weekend isn't looking so hot. Apparently there is illness involved in the group I was going to be meeting there... *sadface*