Out in the Cold

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        (I write my own porn because  I can almost never find anything I like.  I know I should stick to nonfiction, but it entertains me.)

Uh-oh

 Lottie did not enjoy being beaten, but after six hours out in the cold, she would have welcomed a sound thrashing, even from Martin, who always went for the breasts and the insides of the thighs and whom she had always despised. 



       A beating would have Settled Things.  The fact that she had not been beaten, even after the Master of the House had come home and they had surely discussed what to do with her, was cause for significant concern.

       She could see the other women sneaking glances at her through the windows, but nobody would would look her in the eye.  Julia, who lived on the neighboring estate, passed by on an errand, and skirted past her, almost running.  That wasn’t normal.  Julia was Lottie’s age, and the two girls were friendly.  It would have been normal for Julia to offer a few words of support or sympathy, or even make a joke about being in trouble (who hadn’t  been banned from the house or chained in the yard on occasion?   Even the more hardworking and compliant property found herself in trouble from time to time.  Accidents happen, mistakes are made, and sometimes, men are just capricious and like to exert their authority).  

        It occurred to Lottie that the reason she hadn’t been whipped was that she was going to be sold or transferred, and they didn’t want to blemish her skin.  Bruises are unsightly and the accepted opinion is that beat-up property is disobedient property, and who wants to buy useless, disobedient property?  

       Surely not, Lottie thought, freezing in fear.  They wouldn’t sell her.  She’d lived and worked on that estate, for that family, her entire life.  The Master of the house had been partial to Lottie’s aunt before she passed away, which had afforded Lottie some protection. 

       But.

      But the Master’s eldest twin sons were away at college now.  Tuition was expensive, and with two fewer men in the household, it was possible to reduce the staff.  They’d sold a girl only two years older than Lottie last year, and two more had been contracted out to live and work at one of the hotels in town.  

      And Lottie had lost the money.  Lottie had been given the purse and a set of walking papers in case she was stopped on the road and asked to produce identification, and sent down the road to deliver it to her Master’s friend.  It was repayment of a loan.

      Lottie had dropped it somewhere along the way.  She had no idea how much was in the purse–it couldn’t have been too much, or her Master would have sent a man to run the errand–but it was enough to make her owners furious and to send a few pieces of property out to look for it. 

      Losing the money was bad enough.  The real problem, which hadn’t even occurred to her until Martin brought it up when he was interrogating her, was that she couldn’t prove that she lost it. 

       “The little bitch stole it,” Martin snarled.

        Theft was a major offense and theft of money was a serious crime indeed.  Women were not allowed to have money.  They might be given small amounts as gifts on Holidays, but that was it.  Property was not allowed to own property of any value.  There were laws about it.

       A tearful, horrified Lottie was stripped and searched on the spot.  They went through the seams of her clothes and her shoes, even her hair.   Martin accused her of hiding the money somewhere along the road or burying it in the ground to go retrieve later.  

       “Chain her outside until Dad comes home,” said Martin, and that scared Lottie even more.  Nobody needed permission to beat or discipline the property, as long as it was his property (or public property).  Legally, Lottie belonged to Martin’s father, but in practical terms, that meant the other men in the household could do whatever they wanted to her. 

      If the boys needed to ask permission to do something, it was pretty serious, indeed.

      “You better hope we find it.”

Men Glorious Men

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     Did you know that you can find pictures of everything on tumblr…?  Everything!  Everything!  I could waste the rest of my life there looking at photos of attractive older men (FYI: I went out with my girlfriends the other night.  When the talk invariably turned to men, we conducted a little informal poll.  Guess who’d been with the oldest man?  If I don’t date someone younger next time, they’re going to stage an intervention for me).

This blog needs an Imaginary Boyfriend update.  Exactly what my 8 readers, all of whom are dudes, really want, I’m sure.  

A man reading, with a pocket puppy.  Ooo-la-la!  If I was dictator of the universe, all men would carry pocket puppies!  The world would be perfect! 

OR KITTENS!
What is that thing the kitten is sitting on?  And the pipe makes it for me. lol.



Hello, beautiful creature!  For once, a man with a camera who doesn’t piss me off. 


     This one has nice soft eyes that I find very attractive…

soft eyes

   Freckles!  He is sort of young, but whatever. I would eat him like the cookie monster.  nom nom NOM!


nom nom NOM

     This one is an fencer who competed in the Olympics.  Just kill me now and get it over with. 


COWBOYS!  I’d never marry one because that would necessitate living in the country, but damned if a lot of them aren’t beautiful, and they are tough

lord have mercy


Isn’t this illustration beautiful?  You can click to enlarge.

beautiful illustration

looks a bit like my Dad

     I’m not huge into uniforms, but look at these!  They look kinda fussy to be practical.  I like the colors and leather bits, though.  Can anyone identify them for me?  Are they authentic, like from a time period?  Turn of the century, or maybe WWI?  Obviously the photo itself is contemporary.  I’m just wondering about the clothes. 

It looks English to me for some reason.  Maybe this is what they wore when they were busy oppressing Kenyans.  

Don’t waste that crop on a horse!  Beat Miss Margo with it instead!  PLEEZE!


     Here, I’ll post this one for the dudes.  If you got down to the bottom of this idiotic post, you deserve something, and I found this kinda Femdomme-ey.  These ladies are beautiful, and check out those boots!

     If you don’t find them sufficiently intimidating, just think: every last one of them is coming for your JOB.  And we could end illegal immigration tomorrow if we posted those babes at the border.  Hell, maybe we could hire them!

     God, I wish I could get my mitts on one of those uniforms.  I could wear it at the Studio and make a mint.  

P.S.  Military parades freak me the fuck out.  Like, yikes.  But I bet this part–with the female soldiers–was the crowd’s favorite part of the whole parade, lol.  


Babe and a Half

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     I found this photo reblogged on some tumblr.  I was so impressed with it that I wanted to repost it. 

   I have no idea who this woman is, but she looks like an awesome badassed bitch!  I really admire her presence. What a babe and a half. If I were a submissive dude, I’d be all over those boots.  She could kick me around all day.



   I have a thing for boots and male footwear.  The Surgeon had some really great shoes.  Actually, most of his wardrobe was fuckin fantastic.  

    …..aaaaand, my sex drive is back.  Friggin FINALLY.   After the Mathematician messed me up, I couldn’t bear the thought of being touched, and the good memories of our funsexytimes made my heart hurt so badly that I cringed to recollect them.  He slept in my bed. In my bed.  

    Well…at least he helped to put the Surgeon behind me.  At least that’s something

     Maybe later this summer, after I heal some more, I’ll be ready to try again.  Mister Right-for-Margo.  Master Right-for-Margo.  

      I’ll love him and we’ll be like this!

  

HAWT (NSFW)

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     I deliberately avoid being pornographic on this blog.  Try to keep it rated R.  I would like to think that I am so much more than my bizarre, pathological sexual proclivities. 

       But this picture is HAAAAWT HAWT HAWT so hottie hot that I must share it with this world and then go jump in my bed.

      Thank you, thank you, models and photographer, for making this image.  xoxoxoxoxoxox

      Found at: spankingblog.com

       ME NEXT!   ME ME MEEEEEEEEEE!!!

      god I am deranged today.  I must be ovulating or something. 

     P.S.  What is the rope doing there, though?  Does not appear to be serving a purpose.  I assume this is from a series of images in a bondage scene, and the model was just taken down from being suspended, or something like that. 


woman in wooden stocks gets punished by comfortably seated Japanese man

The Asylum

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       Alleluia!  I’m found some hot porn!

       As all 4 longtime readers of this blog will know, I have a pretty hard time finding “porn” that excites and interests me (yeah yeah, I know you’re thinking “Who in hell wants ‘interesting’ porn?” I do, that’s who!).  As much as I loathe advertising (not so much in concept…what really offends me is its intrusion into public space, like billboards and train stations), I must admit that I find a lot of my favorite sexytime images in ads.  By “a lot,” I mean 14.  I am only being somewhat facetious. 

      As I’ve mentioned in the past, I have a special “coconut porn” folder.  I ripped off the term from defunct blogger Bitchy Jones, but since I’m citing her, I think it’s legit. You can click on the label tag “making porn out of coconuts” for more.

       And now….check out these awesome pics!  I found a few on Paltego’s site, but then I went to the original sources and got em all!  

       *sigh* if only, if only one of the models was a boy!!!  Girl/girl does nothing for me, but when you’re a perv like myself, you take your thrills where you can get them! In my mind, I just pretend the darkhaired patient model is a boy. 

      P.S.  It should go without saying, but: I have tremendous compassion for the mentally ill and I would never advocate treating them in such a fashion. 

        I’m just digging the fantasy sadomasochism here.  And gosh, these photos are very well done!  Artistical!  These models did a really good job as actresses.


The white boots and the key ring really make this shot. for me.  The doctor looks so intense and powerful.   And who’d they hire to do that rigging?  See her on her toes?  

See how the doctor looks casual yet authoritative, as if she were reading a patients’ chart. 

Nice rigging!  Darkhaired model is very flexible–most can’t touch their elbows in back. See the dirty feet, and how pristine the doctor is. 


Coconut Porn: Boy on the Rug!

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    I finally got home.  The trip back was a total ordeal.  My houseplants are half dead and ConEd sent me a belligerent notice in the mail.  For the first time in my adult life, I am delinquent.


    Well, I’m working at the Superstudio for the next three days, so I should be able to turn some bucks.  Back to the grindstone!


     I also need to unpack and clean and hit the gym for at least two hours–I gained weight while I was there.  I knew it.  But first I need a nap–I’ve hardly slept at all.  


     Until I have something worthwhile to post, I thought I would share my newest piece of porn made out of coconuts!  What a generous person I am!



    Pretty hot, right?  RIGHT?  If I was in this picture, I’d be sitting next to the guy on the sofa with the notebook.  I would at least give the boy on the floor a pillow.  Well, maybe not.  

What I Want for Christmas: Torture Me Please, Mr. Fiennes

YAAAAY I mailed my rent check!  YAAAY I mailed my rent check!  Now that that’s taken care of, I can turn my attention to more important matters: imaginary boyfriends!


      What imaginary boyfriend are we up to now?  I think #7.  I will have to check.

       Anyway, I’ve had the most crushable crush on Ralph Fiennes since I was 12 years old.  Of my prepubescent crushes, Mr. Fiennes was the last, and by far the most enduring (the other two are Yul Brynner and, to my eternal shame, William Shatner.  Captain Kirk, actually.  What a corny sexist oinker Kirk was!  Today I’d throw my drink in his face.  But when I was a kid, I thought he was hawt.  Incidentally, I also wanted to be the mermaid on the Chicken of the Sea can ).

Miss Margo’s Dream Job, age 7!

       Mr. Fiennes is a terrific actor and I think that he is so goddamned beautiful that he does not seem to be human.  I mean, really–insofar as beauty is concerned, I do not see how he could be improved upon.  He’s got a big nose, but a big nose on an otherwise well-proportioned face looks regal and debonair, somehow.   Feinnes does a lot of period pieces, too, so I get to look at him wearing wonderful clothes (I am nuts for 1920s-1950s wardrobe, and I subscribe to GQ magazine just to look at at the male models in their suits.  Though, the mag does have really good journalism sometimes). Oh my god.  The End of the Affair was totally forgettable, but I own it on DVD just because I love to watch Mr. Fiennes walking around in those clothes!  And in The English Patient–oh ma gawd!!!  When he was all jealous?  “Are you going to drag him into your little room?”  And in the bathtub?  Oh ma gawd!   AAARGH so exciting–Mr. Fiennes, where are you now?  I am as pretty as Julianne Moore (she does have better hair, though)!

“Miss Margo, would you please chain me to your bed and take all my clothing away?  Alternately , I would love to beat you with a stick!”  
Bare feet and shirtsleeves!  Bare feet and shirtsleeves!  Miss Margo cannot express sufficient  enthusiasm  for this.  Yes, keep him chained to the bed.

SOOOOO HAWT…!!!

Donald Rumsfeld: Repulsive, yet Compelling

Update, Dec 11 4:30 AM
     Note to self:  Am I really speaking about myself here?

    I spent most of my adulthood hating members of the Bush administration so much that it made my hair bleed.  Good God, I’m so glad that’s over.  


   I was unusually fascinated by Donald Rumsfeld.  He reminds me a little bit of Robert McNamara (whom I blogged about here), except that McNamara had lots of IQ points on Rumsfeld (still no slouch in the IQ department).  I was glad when Bush fired Rumsfeld, but I must admit that a part of me was sorry that I wouldn’t be able to see Rumsfeld on the TV anymore.  The bastard was tremendously entertaining.  Even though I hoped he would die in a fire, I always enjoyed watching him.


    The first time I saw this, I thought it was real!  Rumsfeld is just that type of asshole.  Hostile and grotesque, yet witty.  Even charming, in a gross sort of way–like Satan, or Shakespeare’s Richard III (full disclosure: I’d probably have sex with him.  Once.):





“Simple, plain Clarence! I do love thee so that I will shortly send they soul to heaven, if heaven will take the present from our hands..!” 


HAHAHA!  Richard III is one of the all-time best Shakespeare villans–right up there with Iago–what a loathsome, sarcastic monster.  But funny, so funny!  He’s malformed in every way–physically, psychologically, morally–and yet, he retains a seductive power.  He charms almost everyone in his orbit, all to their detriment (his mother sees him for what he is).


  The way he gloats after he bags Lady Anne always gets to me: “Was ever woman in this humor wooed?  Was ever woman in this humor won?  I’ll have her; but I will not keep her long!”   


      The way Richard addresses the audience (viewer, in the film), admitting to us his true, bloody intentions, is one of Shakespeare’s great devices.  Richard tells us the awful truth about himself, but not to anyone else he interacts with in his life (the play).  We know how he is manipulating the people around him, but they don’t.  


     In this way, Shakespeare shows us how isolated Richard is.  He cannot confide in anyone in his life, and so he addresses the audience.  How very alone Richard is, and how wretched.  

The Skin I Live In: Torture Me Please, Mr. (Dr.?) Banderas

Update November 9, 2011:  FINALLY saw this film last night.  It was preposterous in the extreme, but if you accepted that going in, it was very well done and entertaining.  The use of nonlinear timeline as a plot device usually strikes me as a gimmick, but it served its purpose well here.  I also forgot that Antonio Banderas was Antonio Banderas (try that with Robert De Niro or half the leading men in movies today and see how that works out for you).  He was great!  Especially when hosing down captives in the basement.  Hubba hubba!

I am jealous of her.  Sort of.  Note the way she sits on his lap like a Ventriloquist dummy in this shot.  I have no doubt that this was intentional (to the director/producer).  But God, the intensity of his scrutiny.

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       OH!!! MY!!! GOD!!!



        Look at the sweet manna the heavens (or Director Pedro Almodovar) have rained down upon me:


        I just found out about the film and I watched the trailer four times!  Then I went to its Wikipedia page , read the full plot, and watched the trailer three more times!  It’s late at night and I should be getting to bed, but I decided it was best to write while still in a frenzy of…well….a frenzy!

        I ask you, gentle reader, could the subject matter be any more perfect?  If you were too lazy (or grossed out) to read the teaser from Rotten Tomatoes, I’ll cut-and-paste it here:

Ever since his wife was burned in a car crash, Dr. Robert Ledgard, an eminent plastic surgeon, has been interested in creating a new skin with which he could have saved her. After twelve years, he manages to cultivate a skin that is a real shield against every assault. In addition to years of study and experimentation, Robert needed a further three things: no scruples, an accomplice and a human guinea pig. Scruples were never a problem. Marilia, the woman who looked after him from the day he was born, is his most faithful accomplice. And as for the human guinea pig…– (C) Sony

        A mad scientist film with an uber-hot leading actor, chock-full of themes of violence, obsession, imprisonment, transformation, collusion, and mental illness!  Oh my God!  Did you see that scene in the trailer where Antonio Banderas was hosing down that captive, frightened guy with the metal chain around his neck?  With a lamp turned on him?  And then tying him down to an operating table?  And the woman with the masked  face and nude-colored leotard being observed on video-camera?  And in black, fighting the man toward the end?  And all those guns!  And the CLOTHES Mr. Banderas was wearing! That catchy, hypnotic score!  The mind reels!  It absolutely reels!

       See this quote from SF Chronicle reviewer Mick LaSalle: “The Skin I Live In” is like a David Cronenberg horror film as made by a director who doesn’t fear the body but revels in it, who is too sensual and amoral by nature to find anything truly disgusting or foreign.

      And I thought Taken had it all!

      It is imperative that I see this movie as soon as possible.  A matinee, a theater as empty and private as possible…I want to be alone with the film and my gleeful depravity.  Alone, all alone!

      Love is a very slippery concept for me, but when I think about it, I think it must be like obsession.  At least a little bit like obsession.  I am familiar with obsession, for better or for worse.

      You know, one of the things that I think of sometimes is that my psychoanalyst seems surprised, and rather interested, in the fact that I am completely and utterly unconflicted with my sexual leanings (that is not to say that she thinks I can probably practice them and live a truly fulfilled life).  I embrace it, love it, pursue it, the way pyromaniacs rhapsodize fire and arson.

      With the same predictable consequences.