You Must Realize

Neither rain nor they glow now you know. This blog is NSFW and should be enjoyed by persons 18 years of age or older.

Last update
2019-10-03 18:05:01

    Heck of a job, @staff!  It takes a very special group of people to tank a company’s value 300-fold in less than a year!  Boy, sure wish somebody had warned you about this, huh?

    @yourbadgrrl because I know she’ll love the schadenfreude.


    Omg you’ve been horribly abused in some of your pictures. Especially the one where your behind is a bloody mess. You deserve so much more. I understand this is a fetish, but wow, that broke my heart to see someone hurt another so badly. I can’t imagine how painful that must have been for you not just during it, but for days or even weeks later. Hope you realize how beautiful you are and that you deserve so much better than these type of sex fetishes.💕

    I’m going to list 3 types of people:

    * Vanilla people who just see abuse

    * 50 shades groupies who see a bit of spanking as fun, but anything more is abuse

    * Masochists

    Now I’m unsure if you are the first or the second example. The fact you’ve stumbled across my blog makes me think you’re the second, but who knows.

    I am the third. I am a masochist, and I am a submissive.

    Do I need to explain what a masochist is? I enjoy pain. I ADORE bruises. That photo you are referring to was done for fun, MY fun, as well as theirs. It wasn’t even that painful if I’m honest, and I loved it. I look back on those pics and smile.

    Despite you calling me beautiful, what you have done is make me feel like shit, you come to my blog and decide that you’re going to try and tell me I deserve better- yes, I deserve far better than being told to feel ashamed of myself and who I am. YOU have shamed me.

    I hate separating my 2 partners but I’m going to.

    You see a few pics of my beaten butt and you scream abuse and think I need saving. Did you see when I was in hospital, dozens of times because of my chronic condition, did you see me coming out of surgery and Daddy holding the straw to my mouth to get me drinking? Or lifting tiny morsels of food to my lips to get me eating? Do you see him coming home from a full days work and starting on dinner because I can’t move? Do you see any of that?

    Or how about Mister, we don’t live together but he’d do all that too. In fact when I have bad days, do you see him spend 5 hours on FaceTime with me whilst he’s working, just so he can keep me company? Do you see him, every single day, checking I’ve eaten and taken my meds?

    You tell me I’m beautiful, after shaming who I am and making me feel crap about myself, whereas he has had me saying mantras into the mirror for the last few days, until I start believing that I really am beautiful, until I start believing him.

    When I’ve had a bad day and told Mister I wish he could sing to me, do you know what he did? He recording him singing, have you seen 3 men and a baby? You know where they sing “Goodnight sweetheart”? That. He sung that to me just before bedtime to help calm my head.

    You’re right, I am worth more than a bloody butt- I’m worth all that they give me. I’m worth all their love.

    This is who I am. This is what I want. Please don’t go around telling people they are being abused when they are very clearly happy and love what they do.

    I love these men so much, and they love me. We are so much more than the few pics we decide to share- can you imagine how much love and trust there is to do what we do?

    Everything is consensual, I have limits which have always been respected, I have a safe word, which again will always be respected. On top of that, any of us, at any point, can say actually I don’t want any kink right now, and it will stop- the kink will stop, but the relationships will continue, because guess what?

    We are more than “just” the kink you see, and although we’d miss it, we love each other and that is stronger. So if I wanted to take a break from kink, I know that my partners would respect that and still be right beside me.




    It always strikes me as probably being a rhetorical question, but the way he just stares down at me with such a disapproving look after asking “what are we going to do with you” I simply can’t stand it and start blurting out the most awful things.  I wish he would save me a lot of pain and embarrassment and just remind me with a little disclaimer and a quietiing pat on the head first that it’s still not time for me to talk yet.


    This is why I’m so fond of the phrase “Why do you think you’re here?”


    Why We Edge You

    Tell me why we edge you, my little slut.


    Yes, why. Is it because it feels good?

    “N-no. No, Sir. Nnngh… of course not.”

    Good girl. So why then? Why do you think?

    “To keep me desperate and needy, Sir.”

    Harder. Closer. Why does that matter?

    “Um… because… nghh… because you like it?”

    Haha. Yes, that’s true. But why do you think I like it? Why do I want this for you?


    Oh you poor thing. You’re really close, huh?

    “Mmhm. Yes, Sir.”

    I know it’s hard to think when your so close and you get all fuzzy. Do you want me to explain it?

    “Yes, please, Sir.”

    Okay. When I tell you to give up your orgasm, like I will in just a minute

    “Oh, no, please, Sir…”

    Shhh. Like I will in just a minute. When you let it fade away… What difference does it make if you don’t really want it?

    “No, Sir, I do want it. Please, please let me have it. I’ve given you so many.”

    Yes you have. And I know you want it really bad.

    “I do.”

    But you won’t have it. It’s right there, so close, but you will never feel it.

    “Oh, Sir, please… it’s so hard.”

    I know. And that’s it right there. If I just took your orgasm away, but you didn’t care, what would be the point?

    “I guess… ngh, oh God… I guess nothing?”

    Very good! Stay right on the edge for me. If you didn’t care about not cumming, it would be meaningless to take your orgasms away. It would be meaningless to say that you were giving them all to me. Does that make sense?

    “Mmhm. Yes, Sir.”

    That’s why we edge you so much, and make it so hard for you. The harder it is, the more it means when you give them to me. You want to make them so nice for me, don’t you?

    “Yes, Sir, I do.”

    Hold yourself a breath away from it. Feel it right there. So close. You could tip over the edge in a moment, couldn’t you?

    “Yes, Sir. Oh, God, oh god, please, Sir… please let me feel it.”

    No. Hands off now. Keep those legs open nice and wide and let it fade away. It’s mine now. Just like all the rest.

    “Oh, Sir.”

    That’s my good girl. That one was really, really nice. I want all of them to be just like that, okay?

    “Oh, God. Okay.”

    Good girl. Let’s wait a few minutes for it to really go away and then we’ll make another really good one for me to take away.




    scary… but makes me squirm 


    Mm, wonderful!


    P-38 Lightning, J or L model.  You can tell because  the engine intercooler is mounted underneath the prop, as opposed to being in the leading edge of the wing as in earlier models.  Those had been designed for the less powerful engines of the YP-38 prototype and never really worked well in service.

    ...Wait, what else was I supposed to be looking at?  I don’t get it.



    Comment on this post what you bdsmlr username is so we can mass follow everyone!


    GREAT idea!  I’ve been doing the “find and follow” thing as I see people post their bdsmlr usernames, but it’s been willy-nilly and I’ve missed a bunch of people. And when you’re on bdsmlr, the watchword is: be active! Post, reblog, like. If people see activity with your username (on the Liked list on a post from a blogger you’re already following, for example), they can hover over you in the Notes and press Follow. As of now, looks like 906 of you have found my blog, and I’ve found 350 of y’all. This weekend I’ll try to put in some work to find the rest of you and follow back. A community is a hard thing to kill. :)


    Suicide. Tumblr. And Hobby Town.

    What I am about to compose here is deeply personal and I will not leave it up permanently. I am posting this for one reason and one reason only- To potentially save another life.

    My daughter wanted to take a ride with me to Hobby Town to get a gift. ‘A nice boy from school works there dad’.

    As we left Hobby Town, I said to her ‘That kid sure is quiet. Is he alright? He doesn’t seem right.’ ~ His dad killed himself a few years ago dad. He’s had a really hard time…

    I barely made it home before my eyes could no longer contain the tears. Straight into my shop I went, as I sit here next to my stove composing this.

    Little does my daughter know how close she came to being without a father. The anger I feel towards myself sometimes is shameful. I am greatly ashamed of where I was. What I almost threw away. But I can honestly say I was doing the absolute best I could at the time. Years of belittlement by my father and then ultimately going broke almost losing everything I worked for, struggling for years, and ultimately fighting battles that weren’t mine had gotten the best of me. The demons had a firm grip. I was in big trouble and no one knew it.

    So I sat one morning, everything in order except myself, and I stared down the barrel of my Smith and Wesson 357 with one single 147grain hollow point loaded in it with the hammer back and my finger firmly on the trigger.

    I had lost sight of everything and everyone who cared for me.

    To this day I don’t know what stopped me. I felt something, but there was no breeze. My hair stood straight up on my arms but I wasn’t scared. I felt strange shortly thereafter, like a presence of some sort. And then I was fine.

    I took that bullet and through it in the pond. I called those dear to me that morning. I needed to hear their voices. They had no idea.

    On the heels of that very lengthy chapter came a few things. A stronger, forged and refined, crusted over self. My two cherished projects out of hundreds over the years- My families speed bag platform, which for the record was owned by a fella named Al. He liked white suits and Tommy Guns. My longtime followers will remember. And my stove, with a heart on the door I made for someone else. Knowing it would never leave. It was my way of saying Thank You.

    As for Tumblr, you folks went the distance with me. The writings of a Cowboy in New Mexico grounded me. Our friend, the Bishop. Somewhere to go that was familiar, but a place I had never been. And many others. Everyone brought something.

    Please ask for help. Call a friend. Call anyone. Head fog is leathal. The wind doesn’t blow it away. The rain doesn’t wash it away. Love, life itself, friends and faith are the only things that will clear head fog. Otherwise, you better hope for a miracle. The same one that saved me.


    This is so powerful and moved my heart and soul.

    I have personally had what my friend, @instructor144 , calls dark nights of the soul. I found my way, but those feelings will shake you to your core.

    There was one thing that kept me from going too far. My parents had lost a child before I was born. While I never knew my sibling, I knew the devastation my parents always carried because of having to bury a child. I could not do that to them again.

    If you are facing your own darkness, this is a message to you to keep going. Don’t quit. Don’t give up. You are important. You can get through the difficulties that are troubling you.

    Call someone… anyone. Keep trying.

    Go to a doctor or a hospital. You may have a physical reason for the feelings that are dragging you down. There is no shame in seeking counseling and/or medication to help. If you were asthmatic you would feel no shame for using an inhaler. Why would you feel any different about medicine to correct an imbalance that regulates your mood?

    The most important thing is that you can start over at any time… any second of your life. Just don’t quit.

    As an adult, I had to deal with the aftermath of a beloved family member’s suicide. It is one of the most life altering and defining events of my life. I had to offer care and support to his closest family members.

    Those left behind blame themselves for not seeing the signs. Those left behind are devastated by a loss they feel responsible for.

    Don’t quit. Don’t give up. Reach out for help. You CAN go on. You ARE worth it. Don’t quit.



    There are times when getting out of bed and putting one foot in front of the other and just going on is the most heroic thing in the world.


    You know what? Fuck it. This thing is probably disappearing in a couple days anyway.

    It was 2008. None of you knew me. I had just started an extremely challenging professional program and I, the lifelong good student, was not doing well. Which triggered panic attacks and depression, which in turn don’t do a lot of good for your academic performance.

    I washed out of school. I stupidly decided to stay in the city I had moved to rather than going home so it didn’t “feel like a defeat.” And I went very quickly down the tubes.

    One night, walking home, it occurred to me I could just keep going, to the bridge over the river, and it would be over. No more pain. No more suffering. No more feeling like I was disappointing my family just by existing.

    The years since that moment have been the best and richest in my life. I’ve gotten to do things I dreamt of but never thought I’d do. I found a new career, lost it, found another. I fell in love, lost it, fell in love again. Also, I ran a porn blog.

    If I’d given in that night I would have missed all of that. I would have hurt everyone around me immeasurably. And ultimately, I would have been a failure, because giving up is the final, ultimate failure, the only one from which there is no recovery.

    If you’re reading this and things seem unbearable, I know. I was there once. I felt like every moment I existed was suffering.

    Do me a favor? Not tonight. That’s all. Just, not tonight, and in the morning call someone.

    You can bear the unbearable. Endure the undendurable. There is more strength inside you than you realize. And if you do, things will get better. I promise.

    YMR out, again.