Augustone


augustamantied Male Submissive, 42, north augusta, Georgia	Augustus Male Dominant, 43, Leeds	Augusten Male Dominant, 20, Portland, Oregon

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	About Augustone "Those who restrain desire, do so because theirs is weak enough to be restrained - - William Blake "Ah, mon cher, for anyone who is alone without God and without a master, the weight of days is dreadful. Hence, one must choose a master, God being out of style. - Camus I am a professional living in New Zealand. Previously resided in major metropolitan centers of the world. My photos are as revealing as possible - I am a recognizable figure in a small country and don't wish small minds to discriminate based on no first-hand experience. I practice sophisticated, imaginative, inventive and thoughtful power exchange. I comport myself with the bearing of (what is commonly called) an 'old soul'. Meaning someone who has been around the temporal block a few times. My elders were told that when I was born and it has been reiterated by (metaphysical leaning) others throughout my life. I suspect my manner comes from demonstrated professional and social accomplishment . And although I don't personally buy any alternate reality theories I respect the beleifs of others. I've lived a bohemian existence since I left home at the age 15 and have been living by my wits and bending man made laws for a long time. I am a permanent legal resident of New Zealand and plan on living here for the rest of my natural (or un-natural?) life. Was married (to a long-term sub) and now I'm not. I've only sired one child.....who doesn't live with me at present but whom I hold dear above all others. Who I'm looking for: A woman, purely submissive in play - no switches or pseudo-subs - weary of low-class or middlebrow, star-trek-convention ready-made-Halloween-costume-style BDSM. A well-kept, clean, stylish, young(ish) and upmarket. Slim or kittenish, softly gym-toned or (at the very least) 50's-era-style, slightly-zaftig types. I like intelligent women. I like accomplished creatives. I own and maintain a purpose built BDSM chamber, in an industrial building I own. I like to conduct an evening's mutual entertainment by sharing a meal at one the better restaurants in town. Conversation, laughter and badinage over dinner intensifies pleasure deferred. I'm looking for a sub who desires a mutually agreed upon trial period followed by a long-term committment. I do not share what's mine - so do not involve myself in group scenes. I did early in my 'apprenticship' - weathering the herd for its potential knowledge. I revel in the sight (but not worship of) a well-presented woman - beauty despoiled is an archetypal image of great power. Think of the cultural ubiquity and currency of such images - the stage magician’s comely assistant, bound, immersed, or restrained in a sword or saw trick-box, think of ‘Death and the Maiden’ (in theatre, opera, film and classical music) think of Jean Cocteau’s (or the classic fairy-tale version of) Beauty and the Beast, think of the Perils of Pauline. Feminine fetish dress of the classic lineage represents the apex of that art and appeals to my sensibility. I will always be well dressed or generically outfitted in noir shades. I appreciate sincere begging but abhor a tiresome nag. I will not be manipulated by a bottom operating surreptitiously as a top. Technique: Slow and Languorous With Sharp nerve-alerting punctuation. Dial-up speed deep sub-space. Intimate, affectionate comedown and after-care. Aesthetically customized interior setting with a variety of props and tools. State of the Art sonic reproduction system and sophisticated mood altering soundscape. Tools: Eroscillator, Hitachi Magic wand, flails, crops, and impact devices of various categories. Restraint and suspension furniture, practical bondage cuffs, belts, collars, ropeage and bandage. Various gags insertables and stimulators. Etceteras. The Practice is not a means to an end - a 1-15 second contraction and spasm - it is an end in and of itself. It is our biologically determined erotic birthright refined in the blue flame of human will, imagination and aesthetics.

Tourists & Top-heavy Scenes ? or the Removable Feast

I?ve been alive long enough to have seen the tide go in and out on several significant cultural trends.

How it works:

A handful of people discover they share a predilection for some thing. Because they have an overweening affection for this thing they become connoisseurs of it. They have an intimate and encyclopedic understanding of what it is and informed opinions about what the best of whatever it is?.is.

When all is said and done they arrive at an agreement (an accommodation) about the core characteristics and values of the thing itself. They go on to establish hierarchies of value.

Once this thing is codified it is given ?agreed upon? boundaries ? boundaries that say?.outside of this demarcation this thing is not, inside these boundaries this thing is.

Having established boundaries and local customs that also define what goes on ( and what doesn?t ) inside of customary delineations - then one has established a territory.

Cultural territory is at its most vital when at the stage of development where outsiders are just beginning to be attracted to a new(ish), creatively established, cultural territory.? New comers contribute new and enthusiastic blood. The tipping point (the moment in which a cultural place begins to decline in social value, significance and use)? arrives when a bloated population of connoisseurs begins to collectively believe that either they are constrained in their connoisseurship by what came before or slavishly attempt to recreate (by combing through or preserving) the moment that came before theirs.

The popularization that precipitates the tipping point ? a point where what was once esoteric knowledge becomes exoteric and pedestrian ? is usually accomplished by media, or fashion or a combination of both?.as interdependent they are.

BDSM and its offshoots and schisms followed this same pattern of research and development through to the mannerist and widely popularized phase it now finds itself in.

A popularized scene is naturally rife with tourists. Folks who want to rub shoulders with denizens and participate in occasional ?slumming? in the bdsm demimonde ? in hope that some its aura of danger and mystery rubs off?. sans any actual risk. As more and more tourists pour in expect to experience an increasing dilution of what was once a heady brew.

I?m not whining ? I?ve had more than my fill and I understand (and accept) the dynamic indifference a cultural moment has to any individual?s particular wishes and needs. It moves on. Adopting new shapes and different forms. Mutating to accommodate fresh populations whose sensibilities are shaped by preceding cultural moment and whose natural thirst for novelty (something new) dictates the use-by date of previous moments ? moments that once galvanized those who will soon to be passing off the scene altogether.
To have it otherwise would be to condemn oneself to a stultifying prison of nostalgia.

It?s been an interesting ride.

"He who desires but acts not breeds pestilence."
William Balke

"That which is good appears, that which appears is good."
Guy deBord

"Being has teeth,"
Antonin Artaud

"God is a great creator of forms, although he has no style."
Andre Malraux

"The most perfect creation is that which moves the farthest from God."
Emmanuelle Arsan

"The world is puely parodic."
Georges Bataille

"All true thought is an aggression."
Gilles Deluze

"Where there is no law there is no transgression."
Romans 4:15

"I am nothing and I should be everything."
Karl Marx

"He who is educated by dread is educated by possibility."
Soren Kierkegaard

"The sun penetrates into privies, but is not polluted by them."
Diogenes of Sinope

"The term human nature is an oxymoron since it is precisely the unnatural which is particularly human."
Alan Weiss

"no one can own life, but anyone who can pick up a frying pan can own death."
William Burroughs

"Death is only for common people."
Alfred Jarry

"In any case, it's always the others who die."
Marcel Duchamp's epitath

VARIOUS ROADS

Possession, trance, perversity, mystical expression, madness, Dionysian epiphany, sacrificial violence, sacrilege, eroticism, drunkenness, laughter, poetry, cruelty, terror, frenzy, great cravings, feasts, contests, feats of daring, destruction, narcotics, willfulness, intoxication, creation of a labyrinth, monstrousness, parody, chance, aggression, surrender, sodomy, unspeakable deeds, excretion, perverse imagination, blasphemous outbursts, sexual delirium, murderous fury, bondage, liberation, bricolage, fantasy, arcane taxonomic schemes, playing the fool, carelessness, impulsiveness, floating, chance encounters, escape, irrationality, futile heroics, desire, contestation, transmutation, availability, suppressed knowledge, instinct, anti-metaphysics, exorcism, summoning, prophecy, theatre of cruelty, unconsciousness, Glossolalia, logorrhea, iconoclasticism, seditious relationships, classical Christianity, Satanism, liturgical inversion, crackpot ideas, witchcraft, annihilation, nihilism, redemption, purifications, revelry, unbearable limits, denial, the physical body mortified or delighted, the macabre, putrid, sordid and masochistic, apocalyptic imagination, angelic visions, mediums, schizophrenics, the religiously possessed and insane, fanaticism, charismatics, bestiality, spiritualism, demonology, service, metaphysics, the occult, dualism, animism, fascination, chaos, obsession, contemplation, reflection, illogic, mirrors, new worlds, hidden law, fetishism, dread, error, great error, decomposition, heterodoxy, utopian and dystopian imaginings, murder, guilt, stain, magical object, magical word, magical thinking, personal law, the abrogation or suspension of all law, elimination, profanity, embellished speech, materialism, heresy, love, revenge, historical events and their parodic duplication, science, anti-intellectualism, snobbery, novelty, compelling illusions, ecstasy, urges, illness, great illness, the unnatural, style, hysteria, covetousness, jealousy, anticipation, entitlement, destiny, trauma, fear, revulsion, anger, tricks, decadence, permission, sin, mirages, apparition, amorous frenzy, heavens and hells, genius, abstraction, specificity, corruption, scandal, impulse, arbitrary violence, voluptuousness, sensuality, filth, rage, murderous hatred, pornography, reveries, day dreams, eroticized hatred, outrageousness, scoffing, faith, witlessness, hubris, unused life, paradox, fate, pleasure, pleasure deferred, lack, extreme individuation, lying, abandon, despair, automatism, finitude, infinitude, anality, delegated power, power closely held, psychosis, meditation, transcendence, submergence, routine, private religion, exaltation, flamboyance, assault, untidiness, boredom, clowning, infantilism, panic.

The Heart is Inextricably Tied to a Dying Thing

The constellation of emotions, ideation, subscribed to beliefs and the archetypal voice of biological imperative, collectively and commonly referred to as the human heart, resides in timeless limitless space.

Although experientially exempt from temporal and spatial laws this psychic nexus has a relative somatic position (or ?seat?, so to speak) located around the body?s solar plexus and/or biological heart.

When we experience what we call love, loss, heartbreak, longing we feel it (keenly) in a particular physical place. Our hearts go out, break, pine, and draw us (unwittingly and unwillingly at times) to people and places where normal prudence would have us refrain from going.

In our heart of hearts we are all pre-Copernican-centers of our own private universe. Our hearts live in a narcissistic place where there is no time and, it follows, where nothing longed for ever dies or ceases to flourish. That is why when someone we love leaves us, spurns us, or dies, the heart?s first response is abject disbelief.

In the face of overwhelming circumstantial injury a heart may entertain attempts to revise its own inherent self-centered cosmology. In order to ?understand?, to come to grips, to heal the suppurating injury, it subscribes to the natural order - to ideas of finitude. If this subscription - essentially to notions of time and death - is perpetually renewed then heartbreak (as has been historically demonstrated) may fully array and become actual physical death.

Physical death - according to theories of programmed senescence- begins about the time one?s internal functions commence to decline?after peaking at the relative age of 30. Until the age of 30 (not accounting for accidents or disease) there is some congruence between the heart?s own sense of immortal centrality and the body?s deferred program of death. Yoked in common cause, both heart and body are vital, confident and (as it should be ? given biological imperative?s key role in perpetuating the serial immortality of species) blissfully unconcerned with the mortal inevitabilities of human existence.

With its inescapable decline the body essentially betrays and humiliates the heart. A betrayal that in its initial (less dramatic) manifestations is so incremental and close as to not be ?seen? by the heart. The heart, not subject to time, is ageless. The body, subject to time, ages and dies. As time passes, the heart, tethered to a dying thing, finally and irretrievably awakens to an insoluble and insufferable dilemma. This dilemma is at the heart of what it means to be human.

It is my experience that BDSM practice ? in its highest form ? promises (through imagination?s temporary triumph over biological determinism) to delay the inevitable. To distill heady nectars from whatever?s left to place in the sadist?s/alchemist?s retort and use as solvent to dissolve some of human dilemma. Through Imagination, artifice and (yes) art a highly skilled practitioner takes the very stuff of mortality and betrayal ? i.e. arbitrary pain, suffering and humiliation ? shaping these very things into a controlled, programmed vehicle which (paradoxically, through the physical) affords a transcendent place for the betrayed heart to be (confidently) re-seated and sated with eros.

Provisional and dedicated Space

Someone writes to me suggesting that my BDSM practice (?with some imagination?) could be as well served by a bedroom as by my custom built chamber.

I respectfully disagree. I would as soon practice painting (visual art ) in a non-dedicated domestic space in my domestic environs as practice BDSM in the bedroom. Vanilla sex in a bedroom ( as opposed to on the kitchen table or a car hood) is devitiated by the utility (sleeping or preparing oneself for the day?s designated activities) of a bedroom.

For a writer, visual artist or dancer/choreographer to accomplish good work there needs be a designated, purpose designed, outside of quotidian place and time space wherein takes place the activity requiring skill, concentration, practice and experience?.the same goes (at least for me) for BDSM practice.

In a pinch (pun intended) a domestic clothes-pin / clothes-peg will do for torturing a nipple but I?d much rather have a stainless hoffman-tube-clamp ? at hand, in its designated spot, in a designated room so that in the heat (or cool) of the moment sadistic choreography doesn?t stutter, hesitate and spoil.???

COLLARME, SCRAPBOOKING & THE USES AND DISUSES OF FETISHISM

Is there a sadder hobby than scrap-booking? I think not.

There is a subset of Collarme users who collect ?friends??.or should I say pictures of friends.

You open their full profile and are greeted by a police line-up of individuals and couples ? way too many to form any kind of manageable circle of real friends ? mounted like trophy heads on a hunter?s den wall. Forgive the mixed metaphor.

Essentially what we have here is a scrapbook.

I used to organize a yearly Oscar party for major media in a major city. An event hosting A and B list celebrities. Annually clinging to the skirts of the event was a chronic collection of ?fans?- usually off-center single men who wanted a piece (a scrap) of ANYTHING (I?m reminded here of the lovely Elvis Presley paen to fetishism??Anything That?s Part of You?)? connected to their wet-fever dream imaginings of the stars. I would, not unkindly, describe this pasty pack of exquisitely needy fellows as bottom-feeding fetishists.

Mind you I?ve nothing against fetishism or fetishists. I?m one myself. And I admire uber-fetishists such as Georges Bataille who once infamously and accurately said (and I paraphrase here) ?I defy a lover of painting to love a painting as much as a fetishist loves his shoe?.

But

I want a fetish (religious or erotic/secular) to do what fetishes do best ? act as objects that effectively transforms quotidian reality from base matter the color of mud to high vibrational matter spewing Technicolor fountains of bliss. Oh my, I think I may have over-stated here a bit. How unlike me?irony intended.

Scrapbook fetishism does (just) the opposite. It takes the fanciful, somewhat desperate, last-bid-attempt base matter (photos and profiles) folks have made to distinguish? from the herd and herds it into a heterogenous face-wall of indistinguishable ?friends?. How counter-productive is that. The whole enterprise makes me dyspeptic, cranky and despairing.

After some agonizing, and after checking in with my longtime mentor, I've uploaded some pictures (may take a day or two to be approved) of one area of my 'practice space".

I have a healthy attachment to maintiaining privacy in and around my inner sanctum. That is why my rooms are never located in domestic space. This particular incarnation of The Room is in an industrial building I purchased for my purposes.

As I'm looking for a suitable subject I thought it useful to establish some visual credibility.

Anyone willing, willful and wanton enough to take a test drive?

Enjoy.

The Case for Limits, Safe Words, Boundaries and their Byproduct - Role Play

ROLE PLAY

Scene 1. ART

A Black and White film:

A leading man and lady have been playing erotic cat-and-mouse for the run of a movie. There has been tension, conflict and badinage filled with subtle sexual innuendo. Any minute the closing credits.

What?s this?

?Why, you little fool, you could have been killed - here, let me have a look at you.? Frame tightens on the pair. Leading man grabs co-star by the upper arm and without a by-your-leave examines a small cut on a prominent cheekbone ? and ?.touches it, as if in wonder.

The camera closes on two (now very large) faces. Crowded by the frame eyes have nowhere to look but at each other. Denouement to follow .

Impulsively(?) leading man grabs heroine, crushes her, brute-like, in a trapping embrace? and kisses her.

She struggles, makes a muffled protest ? for an instant, for an eternity ? and then, as if faint, our actress relaxes into the leading man?s embrace and opens herself to the fullness of a kiss.

Scene 2. INSTINCT

A listless crowd of pre-teens shuffle (en masse) out of a stuffy temporary classroom - onto a blacktop playground bathed in the warm treacle of a California noon. These students have devoted the previous hour of their lives learning to hate music (something each and every one them simply delights in when left to their own devices) in Mrs. Dolzal?s classroom. The only thing relieving the stifled classroom atmosphere was a hastily scrawled note ? passed surreptitiously form hand to hand.

The promise of the note is galvanizing ? but the sensations it gives rise to must be suppressed in the physically and psychologically repressed atmosphere of the classroom.

The note promises a rematch. Mark Brown and Cathy Henninger are to have another playground ?fight.? The note?s to roundup an audience. No audience, no play.

Not a boy/boy fight (with it?s predictable scaled-down, but still bloody, stylized emulations of adult-male-aggression) or a girl/girl fight (which admittedly has its moments ? moments that as a rule devolve into an un-watchable stalemates of physical abjection and psychological squalor).

For the past few weeks, at unpredictable intervals, Mark and Cathy have been staging girl/boy fights. We are in the eighth grade. The eighth grade is a stressful rite-of-passage from childhood to adolescence. Sex is waiting in the wings and it?s making us all itchy and uncomfortable.

The ?fights? have been a relief and a release for us all. Only a few are confused by the formal Punch-and-Judy confrontation of sexes. As unsophisticated as we are we do understand (on an instinctual level) what?s going on here. Some of us have caught the phrase (in passing adult conversation) ?battle of the sexes? but we haven?t the life experience to explain what that?s all about. Mark and Cathy?s impromptu and improvisational erotic theatre explains it to us with body language.

As the ?fight? begins (well away from superintending eyes) faces in the crowd are unreadable tabula rasa. The level of concentration afforded the crude theatrics leads to slack jaws and far gazings ? the kind of concentrated dullness to be seen on the faces of wild predators before they leap and seize prey. I will see this look ?later on in life ? on the faces of (mostly) men?men circling around provisional or established theatres of transgression in places rural and exotic ? metropolitan and mundane.

By comparison Mark and Cathy?s feints, slaps, holds and tussles are innocent but no less erotic. Their activity lasts a short while but time slows appreciably as heart and respiration rate increases among the audience. We occupy a collective slipstream of time ? a hole in the temporal created by erotic frisson.

I will chase this temporal hole (through secular and arcane means) around the globe for decades to come.

BOUNDARIES

Boundaries are a pragmatic requirement of all types of persuasive theatre. Conventional and transgressive. The ?fourth wall? gives us something to push against, stretch and breach. Without it ? as in no-limits BDSM play and Slavery ? there is only squalor.

Reality TV is a quintessential example of boundry-less theatre. Its cringe inducing excesses are watch-able just ONCE. As with the grinning-rictus of Mother/Daughter beauty pageants such programming is unbearable except in the freezing-fear-factor of maiden encounters. The same thing goes with no-safe-word-no-pre-negotiated-boundary BDSM scenes. I?ve seen them. They ?re no better or worse than reality TV?and those who find ?reality? programming to their taste are alien to my intellect and libido. I do not judge them ? I am simply not one of them. I am not the audience for or the willing actor in such productions. Their appeal escapes me.

LIMITS

Setting limits sets up desired tension. Tension and its release are the Ur-matter of Eros. To push (to persuade but not-quite-coerce) a sub to stretch beyond a border she pre-negotiated is a beautiful thing to behold. To have no limit to go beyond (in the run up to contact) is to operate in topless/roofless strata? is to be exposed to the void from which generated animal energies insulate. It is a Corrida de Torros (tauromachy) without a cape. With the cape it is theatre (a theatre of consequence) of the highest order.

SAFE WORDS

Safe words are not about cowardice or falsity they are emblematic of bravery and hard-won (experiential) truth(s). A safe word is kept in abeyance (and rarely, in my experience, used if the Top is skilled) by a sub. It is a marker beyond which the sub moves of her own volition?supported and encouraged by her yoke-partner.

To have no semiotic boundary (to breach and move beyond) is to deny participants in a BDSM scene the right to triumph (humanly) over their own psychological, physical, social and (yes) moral strictures. The entryway to deep sub-space is strewn with trampled markers ? scuffed heraldry from small provincial places that fall underfoot as we move into wider worlds of experience.

WITH THIS COLLAR I DO THEE?????

Since its advent, I ?ve employed the internet as a research tool but only recently have I considered it for human connectivity.

I had an old friend visiting, last year, from NYC just as a 15-year ?thing?of mine (I hesitate to call ?it? a relationship) was getting terminal. My friend (a bull-o-the-Manhattan-woods from time immemorial) brought word from the virtual-singles front ? and the word was good.

He?s a filmmaker ? too busy for pursuit ? who needed to get his ?end in?, as an inconvenient preoccupation with his biological drive was cutting into quality and quantity of time devoted to creative practice. The internet (according to him) turned out to be madly productive, so now he has a whole new problem. A problem created by a demographic of too much supply and too little demand?in his age and education group.

After my friend went stateside and my ?thing? went south (so to speak) for good I turned to the internet. Here I now am.

What I found was momentarily shocking ? although upon reflection hardly a surprise.

Girls and women were online, in their thousands, looking for LOVE. I capitalize love here because they (these women) mostly mean, and use, the term The One.

The love phenomenon was ubiquitous ? even on hook-up sites dedicated to swingers, BDSMers and kinksters of all stripes. Women who weren?t (even really) into marginal categories of sexual expression were shopping for love on ALT sites ? maybe they figured that competition for males on these sites wasn?t as stiff?..pun intended. Sorry.
Now here was a case of looking for love in all the wrong places (apologies to Waylon Jennings) if there ever was one.

O.K., leaving that far behind for now I?d like to address (exclusively) women who frequent ALT sites and who also claim experience and/or curiosity in a specific set of sexual specialty. Overwhelming numbers of these folks, as well, state outright that they are looking for The One.

I?ve always had serious problems with the concept of The One. In my experience it?s a half-baked idea redolent of metaphysics. It?s a human-problem-creating-notion which sets the stage for heightened expectation and strings of unrealistic demands?demands beyond anyone?s human capability of (practically) fulfilling. Given that what I?ve just claimed holds water what one infallibly gets when seeking The One is? Disappointment. Here?s the good/bad news - anyone can be singled out and serve as The One and no one is The One.

Collar Me = Marry Me

This should be news to no one ? collar me means marry me. With this collar I do thee wed. A collar is the alternative equivalent of a wedding ring. It differs in one important aspect ? it?s a reactionary wedding ring. No standard-issue-bride in this day and age assumes (as a women once did) that the donning of a mate?s wedding ring subordinated her, in any way, to the giver of the ring.

In BDSM culture that?s exactly the (dominant/subordinate) contract that?s being agreed to. Like the Black-Mass (which is nothing more than inversion of a standard-issue Catholic Mass ?which confirms the progeniture of the Catholic Mass) the collar is an inversion of the wedding ring. By inverting the wedding ring from an instrument of apotheosized love to an instrument of love-abased one is inseparably linked to the conventions of standard issue marriage.

de Sade would have had none of that.

Now, why would someone who is attracted to, and someone who would go to the extra trouble of indulging in delightful (but socially frowned upon) and unconventional BDSM practices also be attracted to the conventional idea of love and/or The One.

The answer ? biological imperative.

Let?s say, for argument?s sake, that folks who indulge in BDSM practice are deviating from the norm. And lets say they deviate because they must. Here?s where the word LIFESTYLE (good-riddance) goes out the window. As folks who must deviate or refrain altogether from the satisfying sexual expression have not - in re-channeling Eros ? managed to re-channel the oldest drive of all. The drive to reproduce ? also known as the biological imperative. That is not to say that every woman on an ALT site is looking to reproduce and because of that is looking for love. It is to say, however, that (reproduction age or not) the biological imperative (or its vestiges) is THE engine that drives coupling-up, nest building and the search for a strong provider. A Dom/Domme by the very nature of his/her social positioning is by definition a nest featherer, a provider, a protector and an admonisher against behaviors (self-harming by commission or omission) that limits or prevents reproductive options.

Even a broken-winged bird wants to nest and thus - on ALT sites - seeks out the most stereotypical, archaic, archetypal, clich?efined male-as-provider available anywhere. A Dom.

A True Dom will seize upon a sub's sublimated conventional desires and inclinations (Capital L Love &The One) and bend them to his own will and ends. That's why it?s called domination.

Which reminds me of a David Mamet line?..?Money, everyone wants money, that?s why they call it money.?

I was tonight going to comment on the Low and High theatre of Role-Playing and also pronounce on Safe-Words - but I?ve (thank Dog you say) run out of gas.

A ROOM of ONE?S OWN

Everything of Man is By Default Man-Made ? i.e. Made Up

Not counting the majestic indifference of natural phenomenon (physical universe with its cielo, weather, terrain, disease,) all of the ills and delights of the world are made up by humankind. Thus by definition artificial, fungible, ephemeral, invented, contingent on one another for assigned meaning, and embodiments of teeming and varied social agreements.

To build a room, where (specifically) one takes another to be manipulated (in various styles of manipulation) for mutual gratification, seems on the face of it absurd. If one has only a notional (and often negatively opinionated) view of what goes on in such a space its imagined absurdity is exponentially increased.

A musician?s practice space, a gymnasium, an artists studio, a writers room, if one were the veritable man-from-mars and knew little to nothing about the nature of activities that take place in such spaces would they seem rational? Would going to the exertion and expense of building and maintaining of such spaces seem even more absurd than the activities taking place inside?

Inside seen from out: Repeatedly plucking strings in an indecipherable (keep in mind, man-from-mars has never heard music) pattern of pluckings, physically running ( in gym togs) toward a linear demarcation only to stop short of it time after time for hours on end, transcribing the visible world with colored mud on cloth or burnt wood on paper or (even less comprehensible) abstracting ?from? the visible only to arrive at images understandable (only) to a relatively tiny cult of aesthetic agreement.

A sadist builds a room for sadism to be played out on the consenting body of another. Seen from the outside (sans participatory initiation, experience and thus understanding) the activities in a sadist?s room seem (and are ? like all of human invention) fundamentally absurd. The sadist builds such a room because (as in the experience of music, writing, visual art, sport, etc.) a sense of well-being is derived from the room and its activities.

This text is intended as an explication rather than an apologia. I will explain until the cows come home but I?ll be damned if I apologize for anything I indulge in these days.
Years of attrition (brought about via self-made weights and measures) have left me a core group of activities that provide me well being ? beyond which yawns the abyss.

Salut.???? ?

TRAUMA 101

Editors note ? significant trauma experienced while constructing sexual identity has the same effect on humans as the selective breeding of Koi has on goldfish?i.e. exotic variation.

Common Varieties of? Human Trauma ?

Medical
Restrained , poked at, needled, cavities invaded, surgery, sedated, isolated, etc.

Animal
Thrown from a horse, cornered by a billy, trampled, involuntary orgasm from saddle ?riding.

Parenting
Restrained, belted, spanked, detained, scolded, burnt, humiliated, etc.

Pedagogically based
Regimented, caned, spanked, detained, humiliated, forced repetition of thankless tasks.
All information released on a need to know basis.

Military
Hazed, beaten, regimented, shot, exploded, burnt, exposed to violence, death degradation, environmental destruction.

Life
Oceania ? the prequel. Born into a visually and physically abrasive environment and forced to breathe air.? Door to this world between shit and piss. Stretched out to be weighed, examined and submitted to incomprehensible and uncomfortable indignities ? for one?s own good ?of course?. Unable to speak, unable to crawl or walk, self soiling.
Hard learning to follow for the next 65+ years (if one is ?lucky) with little explanation to soften quotidian extremities.

It?s a wonder everyone isn?t running amok, murdering willy-nilly, self-mutilating, wearing deforming clothing styles, eating food that kills, shitting where we eat,? trying to trip up those in the same dilemma, fucking anything that moves that we can get to hold still long enough (if we can get it up at all), hoarding what little there is, sqandering more than there is, and feeling entitled to do so. It?s a wonder.

?

?

RANTS AND RAVES FROM THE BAT-CAVE

It seems to be raining (internationally at least) subs these days. That sort of thing happens periodically ? usually the phenomenon is connected to the release of a popular film or book that has aspects of what we do here in BDSM-land as a significant part of a story line.

Imagine a woman (or whatever gender/orientation does it for you) sitting at a film screening - a woman unexpectedly aroused by visual (or in the case of a book, textual) stimuli.

She goes home with (or to) her mate and has great sex - all the while visualizing what she'd seen fictionalized at the theatre. In the days, weeks, months, years (depending on personal circumstances and repression/sublimation levels) that follow she can?t seem to shake the images that moved her.

Maybe she works up the nerve to share her ideation with a partner. Maybe she?s lucky enough in love to have a partner who is emotionally and intellectually equipped to respond positively to her imagination. If not she may go outside the relationship looking for actual experience?.once she tires of insubstantial fantasy.

When it rains subs even the lamest so-called-doms get wet. And in the process these demi-doms do harm?sometimes purposefully and sometimes it?s just their clueless ineptitude that fucks new subs up. In either case subs get fucked up.

I?m of one mind with Noam Chomsky?s notion that in the realm of human affairs intent doesn?t mean shit ? results are the measure of the wisdom or folly of any voluntary human action.

Results I?ve (personally) seen from bad topping rival the historical (initial) trauma - trauma that led to wanting (rightfully) to be topped in the first place. Topping well done is an erotic solution ? bad topping creates more levels of problem ? sometimes to the point of being humanly impossible to imaginatively address.

A little look into BDSM?s collective wisdom and common sense ? on the part of new subs - would go along way toward heading off sedimentary-like problems.

It used to be harder to access the pool of common BDSM wisdom. You used to have to wade through herds of flawed personalities and their flawed scenes to collect the needed information. All that has changed with the internet. The internet turned the world inside out ? what was once yesterday?s esoteric knowledge became todays exoteric data.

Newcomers should do their homework BEFORE committing and entrusting their bodies and (more importantly) their minds to some clueless dip-shit who has decided ?independent of any experience ? that he?s a Dom. The body heals quickly ? psyches (snarled up by witless demi-doms) need experienced hands to untangle.

Sexual Kink is an intuitional mind/body response to and remedy for eros impounding trauma. It is the imagination?s willful creative breaching of psychic artifacts that dam and hold back the energetic expressions of eros.

Word! Wannabe boy & girl doms. Eros is the thermo-nuclear core of humanity. Eros, wisely and skillfully redirected into the alternative channels of BDSM power-exchange can light up lives. Handled without skill it can scorch, burn, burn-out and (yes) even contribute to premature mortality.

Been puttering around and furbishing my ?dungeon? (what a stupid Disneyesque term that is, eh) this morning. Making some brand-new nipple and clit nooses?. very small diameter (soft) braided nylon tied up into tiny hangman?s nooses. Sort of like Macram?or sadists. Nooses are a must for post-arousal training. Sort of like a soft rope halter for ponies. Covered some more of the room?s sound-bats with coarse black hessian and dusted off the examination table.

Made some new scourges ? what do most folks do for these things?. that is those with no art materials, craft sense, tools or imagination. What do they do? Often they buy the sad, sad (Halloween-costume-style) gear on offer at stores that sell what used to be called ?Marital Aids?. Comedic term that.

Marital aids. I used to try futilely to imagine, as a kid, what the hell that sort of thing would amount to - when we?d drive past one of those stores in the seedier parts of town and I?d see the (sometimes neon) advertising signs in their windows. Marital Aids, Rubber Goods.

Maybe that?s where folks got their rubber fetishes ? I caught it off of a store sign Mum!

As in previous countries I?ve lived in - for a sufficient time - I?ve built myself another soundproof, anechoic room. The sound of no hands clap-clapping?

I used to have a sensory deprivation tank (also known as a floatation tank, isolation - ala John C. Lily) which is marvelous for softening up a playmate?s sensorium - opening wide her ?doors of perception? (apologies to both William Blake and Aldous Huxley) before moving on to more to-the-point activities. Blossoming sensory? buds opening and closing.

I would also regularly spend significant amounts of time in The Tank ?. a luxury beyond price. However a tank?s (I?ve had several) demands for space and maintenance (magnesium sulphate, the salts that keep one afloat also tend to crystallize in the tubes and filters unless the system is regularly cycled) have made me hesitate this time. I do believe at some point the call-of-the-void will persuade me to relent.

Relent. Now there is a word to warm my "cold-cold heart." Apologies to Hank Williams Sr.

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An interesting ? in the Chinese sense of the word interesting - week. Seems that the usual bathetic predation of BDSM newcomers (perhaps I shouldn?t debase the noble word predator ?as in ecosystem predators, such as wolves & cougars ? by using it to describe bottom-feeders) is alive and well in my new country.

Listen up predators. Your fumbling amateur attempts at being Dom spoils it for everyone?..including yourself. Laziness is at the root of such behavior. An unwillingness to do the hard yards and a willingness to settle for (shallow and ultimately unsatisfying) cheap thrills. You spoil new raw recruits (recruits?) to BDSM by doing your jobs inexpertly.

Oy, why the fuck am I wasting my breath with this bunch. They are usually comprised of knuckle-dragging, adenoidal, mouth breathers with poor personal hygiene. Perpetually constipated mama?s boys with delusions of grandeur ?.sans grand manners. Let me put it simply punks. Go away. If someone you?ve put-upon puts me on to you (in the flesh) I?ll do some carnal damage. Not the sort of fumbly psychic damage you inflict on inexperienced girls but real honest-to-dog hurt. I don?t (erotically) enjoy hurting boys but someone has to take out the trash - and I?ve done some seriously heavy lifting in my time - and since I?ve got the chops for it, then why not me? Not happy to (in this case) but reluctantly willing to be of service.

Bye now.??

BOTTOMS AND TOPS

Everyone knows, or should know, that bottoms are actually tops and vise versa.

The irresistible law of supply and demand gives the lion?s share of wieldable power to persons possessing what is scarce.
?

In the power-exchange marketplace desirable subs (the scarcity) are the wielders of actual power.

Negotiations in this area of human endeavor are shaped by a sub's stated limits ? both hard and soft. The sub negotiates, before and during scenes, from a position of power. Safe words have the final say.

The surrender of a (negotiated) fraction of the sub?s inherent power to a Dom is a voluntary step ? a step taken from a position of marketplace power. A Dom (a discriminating Dom that is) has the power to refuse what is offered, or to negotiate for more than what has been (unilaterally) put on the table by a sub.

A Dom?s power lies in his/her ability to negotiate ? a complex subject warranting examination ? and in her/his perceived desirability in a marketplace glutted with (so-called) dominants.

A? marketplace populated with subs (scarce or not) who lack the sophistication to make discriminating choices lowers the collective value of all subs and falsely inflates the value Doms place upon themselves. The dynamic I describe in this paragraph creates market stagnation?in both a quantitative and qualitative sense.

I?m not complaining. Actually I?m bemused. And patient.

?

In The Erotic Form of Hatred, Pantheon, New York. Stoller, R. (1982), risk, vengeance and trauma are at the heart of deviant (the word deviant is used by Stoller in a non pejorative) erotic sense.

The creation of BDSM ?scenes? is in part (and dependant on) creative acts that employ the aesthetics of - language (script), setting (the stage-craft of theatre), costuming, movement and the formal visual aesthetics of color, composition and visual narrative.

Why would run-of-the mill non-creative types go to the bother of concocting tableau vivant(s) to complete or intensify the sex (even the denial of sex, as practiced by a top, is, by the way, a sex act) act? Because they must. BDSM is NOT a lifestyle ? as in event-contingent choosing of a clothing style from a varied wardrobe of styles.

Stoller ? whose base data for research was gotten from thousands of hours of non-adversarial interviews with participants in deviant sexual practices - maintains that alternative ?scenes? are heroic attempts to reconnect with eros ? an eros formerly denied its participants by the lingering effects of early developmental (sometimes remembered sometimes forgotten) trauma.

Stoller further maintains that the reconnecting (by any consensual means) to eros is a socially useful act?in that if such (erotic) energies remained dammed (rather than acted out in a stylized consensual manner) they tend to manifest as socially damaging pathologies?.of the kind we are all familiar with?.running the spectrum from Adolph Hitler (famously impotent) to Ed Gein, to your garden variety rapist, to someone who is physically or psychologically abusive to family.

This little essay and book recommendation is not for the purpose of justification of sexual choice but as a call to do what we do better. To make more sophisticated aesthetic choices than are commonly made in this area of human endeavor. To raise the bar to a level that more of us who wish to participate are not put off by the same ?cheese? factor that makes one cringe at bad theatre, fiction, visual art and music. Done well BDSM works better for those already involved. Heightens further, opens floodgates wider, and returns us to the world open to the possibilities of rewarding work and human-relationship.

Listen, you fuckers, we are healthier than the so-called healthily repressed. Than men caned into submission by arbitrarily punishing pedagogues, by those who personify (and sublimate) human suffering in the form of a crucified man, by those who spent countless centuries subjugating and limiting the illimitable creative drives of women in favor of a rigid (and non-creative) vertical patriarchy. Fuck them and fuck that.

THE MAINSTREAMING OF KINK

Deviance has been mainstream by media and the web. What used to be the outer fringes of human beahior has become fashion. What used to be available only to the avid seeker of erotic ephemera, literature (mainstream libraries were an amazingly good source of literature on the subject - if they didn't have they would order it for you) and images.

With the arrival of the web and the profusion of fashion and neo-avante-grade photographers using BDSM? and kink related? imagery the magazines' (including and especially ) adverstising spreads? and editorial related imagery was and is chock full of sly and not so sly references.

There has always been ( Man Ray, Hans Bellmer, Helmut Newton) photographers who used such falvors in their work but now even seriouslt edge-city practitioners (such as Richard Kern, John Waters and Jimmy deSana-decesed) are in coffee table books, magazines and your local cinema. The Cinema of transgression's manifesto will have to be rewritten.

I doubt if auters such as Nick Zed, Lydia Lunch, or Kembra Pfahaler will ever modearte their vision enough to be mainstreamed or that Mapplethorpe's X portfolio will be at your local municipal gallery any time soon....but I don't rule out any money driven eventuality.

The whold online Second-Life phenomenon is reeking of virtual (how I despair at that word) BDSM and the like. Those who were formerly afraid to try the flesh-on-flesh variety will become innured enough by virtual to try actual.

BDSM community clubs will be in your future....and I'll be glad, in that case, to be no longer living.

Everyone is hip now, or would claim to be if asked. Mass media has ironized the entire population of the world and there is no more 'straight man' to ply the joke against.

BDSM used to be an overwhelmingly Gay pastime but I would venture that straights (I'm het.) and bi's now outnumber? Gay players.

Like everything else that has been mainstreamed - Rock & Roll, Jazz, visual art, gourmet food, et. al. BDSM as it becomes accepted as simply another flavor will lose its savor.

There will always be those who take things to the edge ( like Ron Athey and his troupe, Fakir Musafar a pioneer modifier and hosts of other radical body modifiers, artists such as Stelarc,? the late Bob Flanagan and Sherri Roseand, and? beyond). Modern primitives and re-enacters of extreme physical actions derived from world religions will elude the main-streamers and for that matter ME....as I find none that sort of activity
( although I appreciate, respect and see social utility in? its existence) personally appealing.

It is classic bondage, discipline and its related practices that I regret seeing watered down and devivified? by? the lights-camera-action focus of maistream media. I mourn its passing.

Do those that frequent this site realize that the Marquis de Sade's ( from whose name we derive sadist) writings are the fountainhead of modernism? The ranks of modernist writers ( for example James Joyce, Beckett, Henry Miller, Georges Bataille ) and legions of other influential artists were deeply influenced by a libertine?
At the heart of what it is to be human lies deviance. Deviation from authority, biological fate, life's inevitable traumas. Deviance as documented and passed down from de Sade is the human imagination's declaration of? sovereignty over fate. Deviance is characterized by sets of aesthetic decisions - scenes are set, choreographed, costumed, scripted, lit and acted. Deviance breaches the theatre of life's "fourth wall." When a BDSM scene is over its participants walk back into the audience, take a seat and disappear into everyday life....the scene goes on inside of them - sustaining them through the more quotidian hours of the day, until......? ?

Someone who plunks my magic twanger has added me to her favorites but doesn't communicate. Now why would that be? She looks and (in her text) sounds like my type(s)....perhaps it's because she describes herself as married or could it be the geographical distance. I'm going to delete this profile in the near future and go on the prowl in town...in person. I'd be looking to chat-up (yes I am a talker) a number of amateur charmers until I find one who has had fantasies about my specialty. Sometimes it's better to start from 'scratch' and train someone new than to undo someone else's shoddy work. Luckily I'm the patient type and I own the longevity gene...so, unless I get run down by a boy racer I'm in for the long haul. See you in the Garden City.?

The utopian thinker and novelist Leopold von Sacher-Masoch, the man from whose name masochism/masochist was derived, would be appalled - although he penned a lot of purple prose himself - by what has (qualitatively speaking) become of his name. European style BDSM is superior in style to the American or antipodean.

My goodness, the name thing in the BDSM 'community' is a laugh (Master Objectifier, Willingraven, et.al.) how can anyone with a whit of intelligence keep a straight face while engaged in a BDSM play. Isn't it time this thing grew up, matured, and developed an aesthetic worthy of its thermo-nuclear- core-of-what-it-is-to-be-human status? I wouldn't read a book with characters as badly drawn as the characters that self-create in this scene. I wouldn't listen to the self-aggrandizing or wheeedling pseudo-sub kind of music that is broadcast here, or attend a play with shoddy costumes and dialogue that passes for setting and dramatis personae in this forum or at play parties i have (unfortunately) attended at the beginning of my interest in BDSM. Folks, brothers, sisters, we can and must do better.? ?

I loathe the oft used term lifestyle.

A comment about the academic box several people have wished to place me in .

It seems that in Australasia (as far as I can tell so far, since moving here) the intellectual classes are confined and limited to academia - thus if one uses precise articulation rather than generalist language, to describe one's experience of the world, people here say 'you sound academic'.

There is also a very robust strain of ant-intellectualism in NZ, which may also contribute.

I lived in one of the world's major metropolitan centers off and on for over 20 years and I can't recall anyone there referring to me (to my face, that is) as academic in sensibility. True academic types I meet now and again are inevitably afraid of me. Ah well.

"I assess the power of a will by how much resistance, pain, torture it endures and knows how to turn to its advantage".

Friedrich Nietzsche

The empty rituals of modern-day churches are nostalgic theatrical re-enactments of our historical participation in Tremendous Mystery.

Akin to mystical union - it is the essential experience of the universe as uncreated energy.? The indispensable prerequisite of a living religion.

?There is no real need for faith, it is Ecstatic Experience itself that guarantees palpable, irrefutable evidence of the intrinsic unity and integrity of the universe, and in ourselves as integral parts ; it reveals to us the sublime nature of the universe, and the miracle of quotidian (everyday) consciousness.

?A spirituality that demands faith yet provides no real access to experience, that discourages socially unmediated experience, that propagates the misunderstanding that humankind is estranged from the rest of creation, that doesn?t reconcile the Body/Soul dichotomy/dilemma is of no use to those of us who have exercised the courage and self-will to experience, share in and exercise our own inherant power .

augbiguy Male Submissive, 22, Augusta, Ga, Georgia	AugieDogie Male Switch, 51, South, Louisiana	auggie22 Male Submissive, 50	Augie7000 Male Submissive, 35
AUGGAGUY Male Submissive, 35, AUGUSTA, Georgia	aug953 Male Switch, 50, aiken, South Carolina	Auggie Male Switch, 55	augsburger Female Submissive, 29, Tacoma, Washington
AUgirl Female Submissive, 33, Birmingham, Alabama	auggie118 Male Switch, 52, arkansas city, Kansas	aug5708 Male Submissive, 48, montreal	augur Male Submissive, 23, College Park, Maryland

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