Like that was going to happen.
I arrived at the warehouse early, my consultation getting out slightly early, followed by excellent bus luck. My journey only took 30 minutes. I saw Mr.Aloof outside, getting something out of his truck I think, or perhaps putting something in. Convenient. We went inside and headed towards the kitchen. I saw through, into one of the workspaces an arrangement draped in fabric. A flat area with a low box towards one edge. I mentally noted it without stopping and went straight to the kitchen. We had some tea and talked. Then he took me by the hand but instead of bringing me to the third floor as is normal to the start of play, instead brought me to the fourth where we sat on the couch and gabbed some more.
I was secretly trying to see if I could deter him from his course. Not that I didn't want to play, but our time does tend to be limited, and I just want to be with him for a bit. But he was either onto me, or determined enough that my distractions didn't matter, or, more likely, felt the same and indulged the sitting and chatting and passing of time because he wanted it to. And it was nice. But eventually he got up, took my hand firmly, and led me down to the third floor. Seating me on the chairs outside the toilets he disappeared into the main room and came back with a black t-shirt. "Just this.", he whispered in my ear, holding me in such a way that we were close but I could not kiss him, and then he left.
I used the toilet and stripped down. The t-shirt didn't quite cover anything. It was cold, since Mr.Aloof had been away five days, the heating in the warehouse had been off. I made my way back upstairs where I knew the radiators were on, went by one and crouched down leaning against it. If I was going to be detained in the cold, I wanted to be as warm as possible to start. He eventually appeared, took note of me, and wandered past. Did something down at the other end of the loft for a bit, then came back and dragged me out of the eave and away from the warmth of the radiator. I was quickly blindfolded and taken back to the third floor, this time via the elevator.
Our games have progressed now so that when led blind, Mr.Aloof is no longer gentle. He rushes me, and pushes- heightening the sensation of danger and imbalance. It's nerve rattling, and fantastic. Pulling my arms behind my back, he began a rope tie. This one was much tighter than previously. But he wasn't done there. The rope crossed over my arms, around my body, the looped under my arms, holding it down and in place. Additional rope crossed my shoulders, all returning to the back, where my wrists were connected to the chest ropes, the tied ends well above the reach of my hands, closer to my neck. There was no worming out of this one. Using the twined rope down the center of my back like a handle, he directed me away again, dragging me backwards this time. I knew we would be heading to the fabric sculpture I'd seen upon entering, and so we did. My bare toes hit the edge of it along the cold concrete. "Kneel.", he said, holding the harness and pulling/guiding me down. The lower bit I'd seen before was some sort of foam board. Comfortable enough to kneel on. He pushed me forward until my thighs hit the box I'd seen and then pushed me down bent over it. It was also covered on top by some sort of solid foam or padding, not uncomfortable, but he pulled me back to keeling. I heard and felt some shifting about and he pushed me down again. He must have removed half of whatever was stacked there. Bound as I was, bent as low forward as I was, it would be a struggle to raise myself back to kneeling on my own.
He pulled me up again. Here follows a length of time punctuated by being moved about, from sitting on the box, to sitting on the palette portion, to pushed over the box. Early in the events, with the ball gag in place, pushed over the box, he took me that way. Took being the correct terminology, I could scarcely move. He used the harness to pull me towards him. It was completely controlling. It was fantastic.
But that was not the point of the evening, Mr.Aloof never actually left the room. Instead, I was moved to the various positions, bent this way and that, and measured with a tape measure. I could hear lumber being shifted, being cut, being drilled. He was making something, but what?
After some time, he stood me up and asked me if I wanted to see. He removed the blindfold and another period of time commenced. He was building a container. It didn't look very big. Taking a break, his attention turned back to me. He undid a portion of the rope, leaving my hands locked behind me. Bringing me to the raised box, he had me lie on it fully, with my chin off the end, looking down at the floor. Then he deftly pulled my feet up and put me into a hogtie, and went back to work.
Unfortunately, when messing with the ropes, it constricted the already tight wrist restraints, and I started to lose circulation. I wiggled and flexed my fingers as he worked, which helped a little, but the bond had become too tight. I waited until what looked like a good stopping point in his box building and made noise to get his attention from behind the gag. He quickly undid the rope and gag and left me on the lower palette, returning to the box as I wiggled blood back to my fingers.
With two sides off the box, he arranged one of the fabric pieces at the bottom and pulled me to the box. Pushing me into it, he slid the back panel in, and then pushed the lid on top of me. The box was not quite big enough to sit upright, and not quite wide enough to turn without difficulty. Certainly not long enough to lie down. But shift around I did, and managed to kick out the back board, which dropped the top down on me. He was there in an instant, make sure I wasn't hurt. Put me back to sitting and proceeded to secure the fourth wall to the box and drill a series of air holes along one side. I watched raptly.
When finished he went to the kitchen and brought back some wet rags. "The box needs to be clean before I paint it." he said, handing me the rags. So I started to wipe it down, removing sawdust and particles. There were bits from the airholes being drilled at the bottom and I tried pushing them to one end to get them up, but really the best way was to get in the box. So I did. Finishing, he approached me and took the wet rags, then with a hand on my shoulder pushed me down as he dropped the cloth back in behind me. Down I went and the lid went back on.
At least he didn't turn the lights out.
At some point he opened the lid and tossed in my leather and closed it again. Putting those on inside the box was a challenge, and I didn't even get to the collar before he was removing the lid to come get me. He put the collar on himself, and led me out of the box back to the elevator, up to the loft. Connecting the cuffs with rope, he strung me up to a rafter while he went about locking up the building and getting ready for bed. When he was finished he returned to me, and released me. I took care of some getting ready for bed details myself and joined him in bed.
Of course we didn't go right to sleep... there was some good messing about going on, though no more sex. And then entwined sleep. At some point closer to morning I was once again awoke by hands moving in not-so sleepy directions. And I've decided I rather like being woken up for sex. Oh screw it, I just like sex. But this being woken up for it thing is new to me, and I'm enjoying the novelty. Then more cuddles, more sleep, and an irritating alarm that went off at 6:30 and we were out the door by 7:30.
Of course I have no idea when I'm going to see him again. I'm hoping soon. I'm secretly hoping Friday, but I'm not holding my breath. Before I leave next Friday though. Better be.
4 comments:
Snarkylicious
When you swipe and hotlink others intellectual interests without links to the original context you may have done everyone a disservice. The site from which your thief originated is:
http://scari.org/
You are welcome of browse and link but appropriation without attribution may be snarky but hurts the body of knowledge. Clearly, Snarky actions are trumped by insight. Wehey
gus o kahan
Gus- If you ever come back, what's worse? Keeping the link to the original context which shows ownership or saving it and re-using it as something new. Imagery is not necessarily linked to written context. I didn't use the image because of the content of your site but rather the image presented. If you continue to object I'll simply replace it with a similar yet different image that conveys the same intention but I think that's a shame, since I liked this particular image and free publicity is never particularly bad....
-K
Snarky since you posted this page in 11/05, my counter records 146 hits.
Snarky say: "What's worse? Keeping the link to the
original context which shows ownership or saving it and re-using it
as something new. http://www.scari.org/google249116dd03050915.html
Snarky, you can do what you do and it does what it does but it's outa the loop for fair play in this, the best of all possible worlds. Google has slamed me lately, I was bumping along with 2.2 million hits a month, then two months before the election, google makes me disappear while snarky and gang are busy picking navel lint and stealing my images. How should I feel when my imagery is taken and the pipeline for information is denied to scari.org. You can do some simple searches to see what goggle's NSA people have done to Scari.org.
Snarky say: "Imagery is not necessarily linked to written
context."
Hotlinks do nothing for me but clog my band width; your thieft is at my expense. Had I not had a site with content as it is, I would'nt have such an image for you admire.
It is said, a picture is worth a thousand words –– give or take. Given your appropriation of 'THE MAN IN A BOX' there were many more than that stolen. You may or may not know that 'THE MAN IN A BOX' is a novelistic device that one must defer to in order to have any story to tell.
You say: "I didn't use the image because of the content of your site
but rather the image presented."
'THE MAN IN A BOX' as an icon has special power, I have stated and restated this concept visually on Scari.Org as it is a large part of the human condition; like the persistence of doubt it's not going away no matter how much stuff (cargo) one gathers to indemnify one's existence.
Snarky say: "I'll simply replace it with a similar yet different image that conveys the same
intention but I think that's a shame, since I liked this particular
image and free publicity is never particularly bad...."
I get nothing from a hotlink but more baggage on my server stats.
If you wish to bestow free publicity, it is given through a link to the origionator, ie. body of knowledge.
If you wish to cut to the chase and use the visual medium for your own needs you may appreciate the amount of thought, effort and frankly, "creativity" it takes. So make your own images, as you make it up as you go along you may find new insights into what it is you are after. A link to reference your genius is not a sacrifice of intent; it may be confirmation to the groundedness of your efforts.
So what would you think of my publishing your best prose (the content you are most proud of) as my own, claiming your mind, mood and means to deliver an essence of what it is to be human? How would you like that?
http://www.scari.org/excruciations.html/
And yes there is much written that is worth less than one adjective and there have been volumes written on a single image –– go figure. As they say, all words are not created equal -- goes for images too. String them together and they still may not be worth their print in ink or pixel.
In summary: If you have needs not met by your own wit or vision, you must, in turn, reference the body of knowledge, link to it, it's useful. Good luck and good will to your experiment. Gus
pssst: extreme navel gazing is a product of our fragile moment on a planet that is out of room.
http://www.scari.org/rat-racing.html/
Gus-
As you can see, image replaced. Of course I have my own copy of yours on my hard drive in my collection of images of people in boxes. Your 'man in the box' is hardly unique in that respect, it just happened to be the one that I found on an image search a year ago when this post was originally written.
Had you clicked the image originally, you would have been linked back to your site. Had you not wished to shared your images you can always link protect them as many people do. Still, nothing stops a screen capture and cropping of an image.
People want to maintain 'ownership' in a public place. Did you know you have no rights to your image when you are walking in public? The internet is much like that. If you read my blog you'd note that I always link sources when the source is relevant. I guess it's a bit of a blow to know it wasn't your site but only your image that I found relevant, and you didn't like that. But then again no one can control how others interpret what they put into the public.
Of course it's of no importance now since the image is changed, and you can go on without any link to this site whatsoever, except where you've published yourself in the comments, however, that doesn't matter to me, and it won't to you, as really, no one much reads this blog anyway and it's more a place for me to keep my own thoughts. So all this discussion for what? For nothing really.
-K
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