Random mental images flicker dimly, neon memories. The blow job at the bar, voyeuristically watching anal fisting, one half of a threesom. The scene has a dissacocated quality to it. The Alice effect. It's impossible to connect the images to the various settings they were experienced in. The scene is a place of exploration, a place to turn fantasy into something tangible something felt, a real experience. For some subspace becomes an addiction, for others the Alter Ego takes over creating monsters. Scenes with in scenes and I'd go as far as to say small cults murge get tangled in nets of politics and die of in melodrama. We swim, to the sound of floggers, base lines, various tones of pleasure and pain. Amongst Sharks. I was told a chinese whisper, a story of a Master who raped his Slaves best friend, she was so devoted to him she refused to challenge him or leave. The environment creates an atmosphere of watery silence. A silence that should be broken. Abuse needs to be fished out and left on the bank to rot.
6 years ago. December 5, 2017 at 6:42 PM