A Dream

The dude is me, the place is my dining room.

The woman is the [now unattainable?] dream.

 

(To be honest, a couple of women did want her place in the past, it's just that drawing is easier than living and has less constraints. ie I AM lazy.)

The harsher nature of the non theatrical sadist.

Saturday I went to a short seminary in basic shibari(1) techniques - the base knot, the takate-kote box-tie, pelvic harness and a semi suspension.

A basic takate-kote.
The skewers are a dabotzian addendum, you don't use them IRL

It has been extremely nice, and fun.

Being the kind of semi-reclusive oddball that I am, I didn't manage to get a hand on a model but, luckily, there was one fine woman that wants very much to be  tightly bound and had no rigger at hand, so we got paired. 

To be honest, the fact that she is going to move out of the area soon, to find her forever domme (... yes, domme (2) )  was a bit of an help, because... I really am one horny dog.

In more than a couple of moments, a very unprofessional and a bit unethical hard-on went in the way of the ropes (3).

Fear not, my reader... I managed to maintain a shade of decency.

However, this was not my main mistake during the event.

My partner - blessed be her heart - looked pretty serious most of the time.

Me being me, I read that as being bored, which is quite unusual - the mean time between an half mile and a full laugh, around me, is measurable in minutes.

I am, after all, an intelligent human being affected by a sometimes sulphurous sense of humour and a lingering fear of being a bother to the world. I make people laugh, because so I know that they are at ease with me around - I do not take it as a given.

She, instead, went on in serious mode for what are - for me - unnerving stretches of time.

In the end, I asked her, and she said that she was psyching herself in the role of the victim.

Unfortunately, my ideal victim is giggling, outside of the moments of rough play, so it kind of messed me up a bit.

Meanwhile, the instructor (Sr. Interior) explained that, in reality, shibari is more about "service and satisfaction", and humiliation, than anything else. I didn't really understand, right then, so I had to sleep over it.

When I refuse to go along and play the part of the terrible kidnapper, in a way I am failing my part of the show. The shibari action is also a bit of theatrics that allows the rigged person to let her ego go, for a while. The rigger has to take the responsibility of strip that  ego from the model to fully fill his role, and I really am not much into this part. 

Maybe, because I can't seem to be able to shake the grip of my bothersome super-ego on almost everything I do, and I am somewhat envious of someone that manages to do it? 

Any way, I realize my mistake, now. 

I hope I'll do better next time. 

1) Shibari, or Kinbaku, is a form of bondage play with roots in the Japanese tradition.

2) Domme, or Dominatrix: A female dominant person, to not be confused with dom, which is nowadays almost always referred only to men .

3)Next time, I shall cut the caffeine the day before - let's hope that having a more sedate limbic system will help.

On Non-Consensual Themes

What Can I say, I really am an artist-whore; you pay, I draw. And then, I bitch about it.

 

Me and non-consensual themes, it is a bit complicated.

I do not like them that much, but I can manage them as long as somebody doesn't keep rubbing my face in it.

By the way, mine is an aesthetic as much as an ethic objection.

As a sadist, I want to see stories with Masters that lead their slaves through a path of growth as masochist and submissive, till these are happy of being the ultimate pain toy, or living their life in chains - or whatever.

Masters that may force things a little at start, recognizing a woman "potential", but that in the end are ready to let her go if she doesn't grow into the role - I can bear them.

At worst, they may be Masters that accept to pay the price, when their victims do not recognize their good faith.

In many ways, these are the kind of Master that I would like to be in real life though, to be honest, it's a steep and hard climb to reach up there, and I do not start from very much up the ladder.

I really have to draw her crying, pal? All the rest, isn't it enough?

But an idiot that has too much money, some criminal contacts and that does not care tat all about his victims (the protagonists of all too many N.C. stories are like this, and sometimes they also have protections from above shielding them from repercussion, adding moral cowardice to moral laziness)...

Why the hell should I care for such a character?

Even if I had that kind of money and those contacts, why should I waste my time and resources destroying a woman that's not going to appreciate it?

No, really. I mean, it is not like extreme masochists do not exist in the real world.

I crossed path with a girl that wanted her limbs chopped off and to be kept as a dog slave in a cellar, once; she was 21 and quite cute.

Another one was 19, with a 2 yo daughter, and wanted a master for both (1).

It has been enlightening... look for something hard and long enough, and you will find it.

As true non-consensual situations look...

There is no need to "cheat" and go the criminal way.

So, why waste time and effort with someone that is not going to like it?

Out there, there is at least one woman who would be excited at the Idea, whatever that idea may be. Go out and give her a way to rise to the challenge and try it in real life, I say - and if she is not a model with a ass to die for, who cares? Most of those are a boring fuck.

As a real world sadist and intermittent master (you are one ONLY when a slave calls you that, and at the moment I have no such luck), what can a fully N.C. story teach me about how to meet a real life, potential 

slave, and have a relationship with her?

The answer is, really, nothing.

And that is the reason why most "virgins" - on both sides - tend to come out with N.C. stories.

You do not need to really know much (often, not even human anatomy) to imagine a N.C. story.

You do not have to devise any reason, for both parts to act the way they act, or to keep a pace of psychological changes in any of them.

It makes for some pretty lazy writing and an even lazier fantasizing.

And it is consolatory, again, for the "virgins" of both sides.

"Subs" can go on fantasizing, because the risk of ending with monsters is so high, so terrible, that it must be avoided.

"Tops" can go on avoiding the spotlights, because they are better than that and, anyway, subs are so few, you can't possibly hope to cross one in real life without cheating, right?

(N.C. stories should be renamed "Masters-that-cheat-at-the-game Stories").

Cheater at work

So, for me, N.C. means - mainly - lazy storytelling.

This is my aesthetic objection to the genre.

And then, onto the ethic one.

As they say, "Been there, done that".

When I was a kid, I was a virgin, and as such I was choke full of non consensual fantasies.

After all, I really believed that women hated EVERY form of sex (blame a late Victorian education, a whole century and 2000 km out of place), so any sexual fantasy I could have was, literally, a male-on-female rape fantasy.

Cue in a massive amount of resentment against girls, for not sharing natural male's desires (indirectly making me "a monster"), a glorious misunderstanding on female's anatomy (more or less, I thought they were born trans and had to be liberated from their dicks surgically at puberty – I picked the wrong porn comic when I was 8, and it took me a while to get more accurate information), and you'll understand why my fantasies where Bloody Rape and Deadly Torture.

More deadly torture than rape, really... I didn't really have a good idea of what sex is.

I know, fantasies are fantasies, so I should attach no particular meaning to it.

But...

I can't really become like Him, I know.

A man (or a woman) can become only what (s)he can dream to be.

My "dreams" presented me no outcome that allowed me both to follow my instincts, and yet to be a happy and honorable man (in my worldview, these two words are almost synonyms - you can't really be happy, if your first impulse in the morning is to spit at the asshole in the mirror).

My fantasies were almost my only space of freedom, but in the end they were also a mental cage that I needed to get rid off – and I am still in the process of shredding it – to actually be free.

And this is the base of the ethical reason why I do not like N.C. themes...

I fear that, by doing them, I may be helping some other virgin digging himself in the same trap.

In a couple of cases, I am pretty sure that I already did it.

And that is not good, not at all.

___________________________________________________________________

1. I stayed the hell away from them, of course... a small voice in my head kept saying "entrapment, entrapment, entrapment {manic laugh}", in both cases - and I wasn't in condition to give them what they wanted anyway.

How it started...

Once upon a time, there was a this guy.

He wasn't a genius, and his dream was to be some kind of electro-technician, or a mechanic, and build small robots.

Or machines... or aircrafts.

Anything that moved, really.

Unfortunately, one day he discovered that he could draw women... and it was the end, for him.

Gone were the dreams of building a "Gundam".

He started obsessively doodling nakedness on paper.

He didn't only that, he sometimes tried to actually make comics, but his stories where almost uniformly sad.

Beyond pretentiousness

How shitty I was

And he wasn't all that good (I know, it looks nice... but it wasn't nice enough).

So he went on, doing his day job,and scrounging horrible drawings at night...

From time to time, he made some logos, but the hope of ever drawing things he cared for was waning.

His day job sucked (nice colleagues, but the pay was a bit low - 18K a year for a computer engineer, living in Milan), and he came to the conclusion that nothing he could do mattered at all. To anybody.

He left his last comic unfinished, and stopped drawing altogether for a long while.

He moved away, to a new country, but things didn't really improve.

They didn't  improve, until he draw these:

The Jade Rose, Yellow Tube Portrait

The Jade Rose, in Red


 

The model liked them, I liked them, and I had used a new nom de plume...

 And thus, DaBotz was born.

 _DB