Two gripes.

First: Nigerians et al.  'Nuf said.

Second: People who come on like they're interested but when it comes to get down to details, they cease to be interested.  Oddly many of these same people claim not to be into games.

In the previous entry, I mentioned raising a special needs daughter.  To protect her, let's call her Christine - Tina for short.  It's nowhere close to her real name so I believe it to be a safe choice.

Tina had been placed in foster care after being pulled from an abusing household when she was 5 years old.  To give an idea how abusive, she wasn't virgin when she was removed from that horror.  The first time I saw her was when I went to the foster home to work on their computer.  Tina had just been placed there and was one terrified little girl.  After I got done working on the machine, I went over to her and sat on the floor to talk with her.  Talk to, since she was too scared to answer - a part of how she had been treated prior to being pulled out of her home.  Later I learned that she thought she had been "sold" again and I was the person who'd paid for her.  She was a beautiful little girl and I think I fell in love with her (in a fatherly way) right then and there.  The next morning, I made a few phone calls and started the ball rolling to adopt her as a single parent who'd never had children of his own.  

It took me two years of the most intensive background check imaginable before I was allowed to take her home.  During that time, I went back to the foster home to see Tina as often as I could and eventually she learned that my lap was a Safe Place, the first she'd ever known in her life.  As soon as I got in the door and had parked my butt in a chair, she was in my lap all snuggled in to talk or, as often as not, to fall asleep.  The foster parents told me that after having lap time was the only times she'd have a peaceful night's sleep.  

We lived aboard a boat for the first five years because I knew the liveaboard community and knew she'd be surrounded by a loving protective "family" - aunts, uncles, siblings/cousins - and a ring of protection that would allow no one to hurt her unlike the the place she left.  I pulled her out of public schools so she could be home schooled.  With that, she had a number of other benefits and advantages not available to public school students made possibly by putting every penny I had into raising her.  I saw to it she got the best of everything she needed while ensuring that she was never hurt again as long as she was in my care.  

Cutting to the chase, Tina grew up to be an amazing, attractive, intelligent and very strong-willed lady.  She was a very early bloomer and photographers started showing up when she was 9.  Obviously not all were legit but none of them won any friends at the marina.  One or two had to have the fact they weren't wanted "explained" to them.  After she grew up she could easily have been a swimsuit model but declined that, pursuing an education in criminal forensics instead.  

She was never able to work in her chosen field.  She was diagnosed with MS while she was in school with Fibromyalgia and a host of other disorders following suit.  The disorders are progressing unabated by any and every treatment, mainstream and otherwise, we've tried.  She's 35 now and if she lives to see 40 we'll accept it as a miracle.  And I have no clue what I'll do when she passes.  I cannot imagine a world that doesn't have her in it.

This is an open message to one particular female member here.

After reading your profile, I can honestly say that in the nine years off and on  I've been here, I have yet to find anyone as shallow and self-centered as you are.   Your entire profile is one long running ego-fest and essentially says you want to  fuck your way to wealth beyond your wildest dreams from a stallion who looks like he  belongs on the silver screen.  Spotting a phony is easy after a while and you come  on as fake as can be imagined.  If you were all you say you are, you should have  absolutely no problem in finding a companion.  The fact that you are here with that  profile indicates raw desperation and nothing else.

You want "successful but unpretentious" yet look at how you describe yourself -  pretentious as hell with no shame in doing so.  You make every effort to present  yourself as some sort of goddess men should worship - though you never even hint as  such directly.  Your profile fairly screams "Look at ME!" which is about as  pretentious as it gets.  

In your profile, you compared a flannel-wearing lady driving a station wagon to  another in 3" heels driving a Porsche. (What happened to the Jag?)  Of the two the  former is far preferable.  She's real.  She someone who understand what life is and  faces it head on.  The latter is a high-maintenance headache whose only interest is  herself and who doesn't care who she hurts to get what she wants.  Which are you?   Three guesses.

I am highly amused that you brag about driving an 8+ year old product of the Ford  Motor Company.  (Look who owned Jaguar when the XK8 was built.)  You want classics?   At one time, I owned and drove a Rolls-Royce Silver Wraith, Jaguar XK-140M, Jaguar  Mk X Salon, several of the vertical grill Mercedes, Mercedes 300SL convertible and a  host of others.  Why not now?  After a while I realized that a Jeep was a hell of a  lot more fun and a Ford could do what I needed to do just as well as any of them  could without the aggravation that owning classics brings.  Or, stated another way,  I decided to reserve my funds for what was important in life and that wasn't fancy  vehicles.  With that, I learned that I didn't need a status symbol of any order to  indicate success.  My life and the choices I made spoke for themselves.

Who am I? I am college educated having a Bachelors with a split major - AE & EE -  and a double minor - Math & Physics, both of which were overdone to the point that  they almost could have been majors themselves - gotten the hard way, part time while  working full time in data communications.  I made my fortune, such as it was, not  from raw income but from prudent investing starting when I first got out of the Navy  and continuing to where I found a worthwhile place to put that money, raising a  special needs daughter as a single parent.  (I'll cover this in a separate entry.)   Even so, I retired a couple months before my 47th birthday so I could devote full  time to her and even drained my retirement fund in doing so.  Without any doubt at  all, that was the best possible investment I could have ever made.  My sole source  of income now is a VA disability pension (100%, service connected, Nam-era) however  I don't regret one penny I spent on my little girl and I'd do it all over again  without hesitation.

You could never accomplish that.  You're too wrapped up in yourself to even consider  it.  Assuming what you claim is even partially true, you may be a success at  business but you're a total failure at being a human being.  Unfortunately you don't  realize that the latter is far, far more important.

It truly sucks to be you.

Even more about the Ol' Pain Maker Hisself ...

Unless being otherwise is indicated, I'm actually quite gentle and can be very affectionate.  I do have my rather unique hobby but exercising it 24/7 isn't generally part of the picture and the remaining time can't exist in a vacuum.  I have numerous vanilla interests as do my partners as a general rule and having time for them as well as other real world pursuits is generally a good thing.  In a few cases, time for the results of our play to heal was needed which made for good slack time.  

I have a sense of humor that I exercise quite freely that ranges from subtle to outrageous and sometimes catches people off guard.  Aside from keeping me sane (a lost cause but it sounds good), it also makes sessions go more easily for all concerned.  The amount of pain one can endure when caught in the middle of giggle fits is amazing.

On the other talon, if required by a situation (ex: those ever so worthless women who deserve only the worst treatment*) I can be a real bastard and a half who can make the target of my attention wish she'd never been born.  It is interesting to watch the reaction of such women when I am affectionate with someone else although at the moment I don't have anyone to fit the latter description.  But then, I haven't really tried recently either.

* I learned some time back that those who believe themselves to be such really are.  Earlier in their lives they became so convinced of this through one means or another that holding any hope or expectation of change is akin to herding cats.  The end result is something like a super-pain slut with extras.  

Anyway, getting back, I've done a lot of things to raise income (beyond writing porn, that is) with my single longest career being in data processing going from timesharing system manager with 16 users to network admin for a mainframe based network with several thousand users.  I've worked in warehouses as a grunt, driven trucks, was a "plain clothes" bank courier carrying cash between branches sufficient to pack heat, worked on about everything that had gas engines, a few diesels and several turbine engines (As a side note, I'm a licensed aircraft mechanic.), managed a gas station for a while and a host of other things.  

On the avocation side, I am somewhat a home machinist, enjoy leather work (not of the kink flavor but I guess I could do that too), was a 1000+ hour pilot with over 10% of that jet time and was working on commercial, instrument & multi-engine when I got grounded by losing my medical, have been a ham radio operator for 50+ years and have a somewhat eclectic interest in electronics (which does include kink), like experimenting in the galley and sometimes even manage to get it right, do a bit of writing beyond the aforementioned porn and am published in non-fiction while my non-porn fiction goes wanting, did use photography as a means of raising side cash but now am simply a hobbyist, have owned several boats, remodeled the lower level of a turn of the century frame house (I moved here before I could get to the rest.) and bunches of other things.

UFOs - or as I prefer to call them, UAPs (Unknown Aerial Phenomena) - have got my attention since some 2% of the sightings remain unknown.  I'm not ever going to say that they imply an alien presence without overwhelming evidence but they do lead one to wonder.  With that, I believe there is something to the paranormal that science has yet to be able to qualify and/or quantify and that there is a spirit world that accompanies our "real" world.  I also believe that where George is will ever remain a mystery and finding Elmo is rather like finding Judge Crater or Jimmy Hoffa, and I'm thoroughly convinced that Barney is part of some horrific conspiracy but I can't figure out which one. 

More about the Ol' Pain Maker Hisself ...

When I still lived in Pittsburgh, PA, there was no "dungeon" as such nor did I dress up to look big and bad.  Instead, I wore whatever looked comfy on a given day although I did use medical scrubs and surgical gowns et al on occasion but that was for practical reasons only - maintaining as sanitary an environment as possible and keeping the blood etc off my precious hide.  

It wasn't odd for me to use simple rigs and whatever I had at hand at the moment to provide "entertainment."  I had some 8' lengths of stair bannister, large oak and maple dowels, saw horses and a bunch of other fun things to create impromptu devices as needed using the rope I kept on hand ... which I bought on reels when the local marinas and other sources had sales.  These could be taken apart after and stored until another idea crossed my evil little mind.  

If I wanted to get fancy, I had almost enough medical equipment to outfit a complete operating theater (Several of my mentors were surgeons including one neurosurgeon and they were able to acquire retired but restorable/repairable equipment for me.) along with sufficient equipment to manage creative dentistry.  The University of Pittsburgh occasionally had sales and I'd pick up toys from there as well like a vacuum pump out of a Physics(?) lab* that could pull close as spit to 30" Hg without raising a sweat and was sufficiently insistent about it that I wound up using reinforced hoses for most of the path.  

* This was a perfect example of the lack of communications in an academic environment.  The pump had been sent out for a complete overhaul and had just come back in as-new condition when Accounting or someone declared it surplus along with a bunch of related stuff.  I bought the lot for $20 which less than 1% of the actual value.

I mentioned the surgeons ... I learned a lot from them, most of which would have gotten a stink eye from the AMA if not for what was done but how and/or why.  They let me practice some procedures on medical cadavers after the med students were done with them and, among other things, I learned several ways to perform a lobotomy.  Officially (and, in fact, truthfully) this was research for a novel* but with other applications which were not made public although the doctors knew.  As a result of the official reason, the particular school allowed this so it was all aboveboard and legit.  

* I had an outline for a planned action/horror novel that needed this knowledge but it never got written.

For a few years, I wrote hardcore S&M porn to raise fast cash (It's such an easy market to write for.) with the hardest written under the name D. J. "Doc" Roper.  Wilson Grey was another name I used for less brutal and usually consensual work (Doc was very brutal and usually non-consensual with crippling and/or death included on occasion.) with one or two others edging more toward romance with kink.  What was amusing was that some of the ladies who passed through my door came up with ideas for Doc Roper even more brutal than I thought of thus once again showing females really are the deadlier of the species!  Wheee!  

More as I think of it.

Okay, I admit it.  I’m a techno-geek.  Over the past 50+ years I’ve been involved with electronics and machines to some degree or another.  Now that I’m disabled, I find technology to be quite an ally in my enjoyment of rendering pain.  Well, other things too since I’m not monodimensional.  No, really!  I’m not!  More or less.

Fur ‘zample, a TENS unit’s pretty cool and can make a “partner” (sub/slave or just someone to play with) jump and get all indignant.  Okay, the last part maybe not but you get the idea.  A TENS unit’s pretty tame so I figured that stepping it up a bit to make it more interesting was in order.  This proved to be fairly easy and using a home built core unit allowed me options a store bought normally does have.  A small investment in caffotine later and an amplifier that was also cheap and easy emerged from the foggy recesses of my thinkertoy.  Instant fun.

I have some interesting pieces that go back to the turn of the century (the previous one, not this most recent one) on up to at least the 1950s.  The first is a Faradic Machine that was one of the quack medicine devices that enjoyed brief popularity from before the turn of the century to the 1930s and for a short period after the war.  Taken down to simplest terms, this is a device that contains a high tension coil (think: automobile ignition coil, at least functionally) that was powered by a built-in wet cell through a vibrating reed switch in the primary circuit and had a few adjustments.  Originally it was used as a “therapeutic” device for every ailment known to man and a few that were probably made up.  Now it’s just a museum piece of sorts although one I’m slowly making work again as designed.

The second device is what was called an Inductorium.  It also has a high tension coil like the Faradic Machine where the secondary can be withdrawn from the primary to adjust the output.  These were used in various university psychology and neurology labs to test nerve response among other things.  Mine came out of such a lab and was used into the 50s according to the person from whom I bought it.  The device was designed to operate from an external power source – batteries, specifically – which I’m planning to duplicate in shape if not in fact.  

While I was reading up on these devices, I came across one that wasn’t adjustable but was still used at least once.  This was a Model T Ford ignition coil with terminals for wire leads attached to the contacts for the coil box.  It was powered by a 6v battery and I rather imagine would give quite a wallop to anyone on the business end of it.  It just so happens I have several of these coils handy gotten for another project and I may repurpose one for this application.  

Being a true geek, I also have the requisite telephone hand crank generator and some disposable camera flash assemblies that also can give quite a wake up if used properly.  Or something.

Something I think would be a real kick would be to make a machine the sole purpose of which would be to torture women, kind of a pain slut’s paradise.  I’ve sketched out pieces of it but not the machine as a whole.  It would have a bunch of motors and hydraulic cylinders to make it all work although some parts would be able to be operated manually for that personalized touch.  The only time hands-on manipulation would be needed is when first “installing” the target of the machine’s ministrations and that would be mostly to adjust for proper fit.  For everything else, it would be the machine under control of a console – possibly hand-held.  

The inspiration for this came from some 3D models of devices I found on Renderotica (http://www.renderotica.com/) combined with my own mechanical background.  I used to do some 3D modeling and will be back into it after I get a new machine capable of handling the task better.  This one simply doesn’t have the ponygirl power to manage serious renders.  At that point, I should have some interesting images to add to my photo array which only has me in my full ugly glory at the moment.

Another thing I’ve though would be amusing would be a mother-daughter (of legal age) combination of pain sluts or something workable as such – or even three generations together.  If the youngest is 18-20, it’s possible that granny would still be young enough to play with in my usual fun way.  Hmmm … an interesting story concept …

And so how was your day?