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Летећи Полип wrote:Da, da... Mora se imati tezak zivot da bi se intimno razumeo Starac.   



Enivejs, bas mi leglo more i ribolov. Mogli bi da predjemo na krupniju ribu. Npr. na velike, bele kitove!

Vilmos Tehenészfiú wrote:Negde sam pročitao u srbijanskim novinama izmedju dva rata članak o aktivnostima kralja Aleksandra, gde je bio, šta je radio. Umesto “on” napišu “Oni”, sa velikim slovom. “Oni su se zahvalili na lepom dočeku, na kome je Njima uručena plaketa grada….”. Moglo bi i tako za rodno neutralne.

њојза wrote:
Мом старијем је 15 и има само почетничку али сам им рекла често .. кад дође време и буду на журци и пили су или је њихов возач пио, да ме зову и доћи ћу по њих .. не питам ништа. Рађе ћу да их покупим од другара него да их препознајем у мртвачници.

јануара 2008. wrote:Мом старијем је 15 и има само почетничку али сам им рекла често .. кад дође време и буду на журци и пили су или је њихов возач пио, да ме зову и доћи ћу по њих .. не питам ништа. Рађе ћу да их покупим од другара него да их препознајем у мртвачници.

The queerest type I ever saw in the hotel was an ‘extra’.

He had been engaged at twenty-five francs for the day to re-
place the Magyar, who was ill. He was a Serbian, a thick-set
nimble fellow of about twenty-five, speaking six languages,
including English. He seemed to know all about hotel work,
and up till midday he worked like a slave. Then, as soon as
it had struck twelve, he turned sulky, shirked Us work, stole
wine, and finally crowned all by loafing about openly with a
pipe in his mouth. Smoking, of course, was forbidden under
severe penalties. The manager himself heard of it and came
down to interview the Serbian, fuming with rage.
‘What the devil do you mean by smoking here?’ he
cried.

‘What the devil do you mean by having a face like that?’
answered the Serbian, calmly.

I cannot convey the blasphemy of such a remark. The
head cook, if a PLONGEUR had spoken to him like that,
would have thrown a saucepan of hot soup in his face. The
manager said instantly, ‘You’re sacked!’ and at two o’clock
the Serbian was given his twenty-five francs and duly
sacked. Before he went out Boris asked him in Russian what
game he was playing. He said the Serbian answered:
‘Look here, MON VIEUX, they’ve got to pay me a day’s
wages if I work up to midday, haven’t they? That’s the law.
And where’s the sense of working after I get my wages? So

I’ll tell you what I do. I go to a hotel and get a job as an ex-
tra, and up to midday I work hard. Then, the moment it’s

struck twelve, I start raising such hell that they’ve no choice
but to sack me. Neat, eh? Most days I’m sacked by half past
twelve; today it was two o’clock; but I don’t care, I’ve saved
four hours’ work. The only trouble is, one can’t do it at the
same hotel twice.’

It appeared that he had played this game at half the hotels
and restaurants in Paris. It is probably quite an easy game
to play during the summer, though the hotels protect them-
selves against it as well as they can by means of a black list.

Летећи Полип wrote:

The queerest type I ever saw in the hotel was an ‘extra’.

He had been engaged at twenty-five francs for the day to re-
place the Magyar, who was ill. He was a Serbian, a thick-set
nimble fellow of about twenty-five, speaking six languages,
including English. He seemed to know all about hotel work,
and up till midday he worked like a slave. Then, as soon as
it had struck twelve, he turned sulky, shirked Us work, stole
wine, and finally crowned all by loafing about openly with a
pipe in his mouth. Smoking, of course, was forbidden under
severe penalties. The manager himself heard of it and came
down to interview the Serbian, fuming with rage.
‘What the devil do you mean by smoking here?’ he
cried.

‘What the devil do you mean by having a face like that?’
answered the Serbian, calmly.

I cannot convey the blasphemy of such a remark. The
head cook, if a PLONGEUR had spoken to him like that,
would have thrown a saucepan of hot soup in his face. The
manager said instantly, ‘You’re sacked!’ and at two o’clock
the Serbian was given his twenty-five francs and duly
sacked. Before he went out Boris asked him in Russian what
game he was playing. He said the Serbian answered:
‘Look here, MON VIEUX, they’ve got to pay me a day’s
wages if I work up to midday, haven’t they? That’s the law.
And where’s the sense of working after I get my wages? So

I’ll tell you what I do. I go to a hotel and get a job as an ex-
tra, and up to midday I work hard. Then, the moment it’s

struck twelve, I start raising such hell that they’ve no choice
but to sack me. Neat, eh? Most days I’m sacked by half past
twelve; today it was two o’clock; but I don’t care, I’ve saved
four hours’ work. The only trouble is, one can’t do it at the
same hotel twice.’

It appeared that he had played this game at half the hotels
and restaurants in Paris. It is probably quite an easy game
to play during the summer, though the hotels protect them-
selves against it as well as they can by means of a black list.

Evoking “embarrassment,” Powell said, was the lowest level of play followed
by “humiliation” and then “degradation.” She said she hoped to shatter our
“taboos” and teach us how to take our partners to the parts of their psyche they
were “most afraid of.” She insisted humiliating and degrading our partner would
be “empowering” and “healing” for them.

“There are a lot of people who are black who enjoy race play, who enjoy
playing a Civil War era slave,” she said. “There are women who have been sexually
assaulted who really enjoy rape fantasies. There are people who have experienced
fat shaming who would want their partner in the context of that scene to replicate
those kinds of things.

“If I’m playing with my lover, and he tells me I’m a fat, ugly, worthless bitch,
and as soon as I’m done, he says ‘oh my God, baby, you looked so good in that
moment, I loved how those tears were streaming down your face, I loved the
curve of your hip as you turned over, it was so beautiful,’ I get to experience that
same emotion but I get a very different closure on it. Instead of it sticking to me as
a little tiny scar, I get to open it back up and heal it.

“There’s nothing quite so hot as that moment where I’m telling them what a
filthy mess they are with their tears all over their face and their spit all over theirface and that I just need to show them what a filthy little slut they are, right?” she
said.

She asked us to give her words we could use in “humiliation play.”
She volunteered “Slut. Whore. Bitch. Sissy. Cock-sucker. Fuck kid. Fuck toy.”
The other students shouted out, worthless, dirty, useless, cunt, anal whore, cum
dumpster, stupid, dumb, fat, and bad.
“I find it hot to call someone a stupid, dumb used-up cum dumpster,” Powell
said.

She said words should be cleared with a partner. Powell, who was heavyset, said
she does not, for example, allow her partner to call her fat.
“But if someone calls me a fuck pig I’m totally into that,” she said, smiling.
She told us to think of words that work for us.
“You might be totally into this slut whore cunt thing,” she said. “But sissy and
cocksucker do not work for you. Or you might super be into cum dumpster but
anything about animals doesn’t work for you.”
She said that women can allow themselves to be called “a worthless cunt” and
still be a feminist.

“I had done a fantastic humiliation play with this dom [short for the dominant
partner in a sexual relationship] of mine,” she said. “[In] the scene that we had
been doing I was so worthless and terrible that I couldn’t even make him cum. So
he was fucking me in all the ways and I couldn’t make him cum. He kept talking
about how awful it was that I can’t make him cum. As soon as it was over, he gave
me a hug and said ‘you have no idea how hard it was to not cum. The second you
slipped out of me I was on the edge fighting the entire scene. You were so hot. It
was so amazing.’

“If they said something that sticks with you, like you’re too stupid to even
figure out how to suck their dick,” she advised, “you can ask them—I worry
sometimes that I’m not very good at cock sucking. Can you tell them they did a
good job? That’s okay. It’s your job, as a top, to say you are amazing at sucking my
cock.”

She told us military veterans gravitated to BDSM. Powell spent five years in the
army.

Летећи Полип wrote:

ćaća wrote:Iz ličnog iskustva i iskustva nekih ljudi koje poznajem, trauma znacajno oblikuje seksualni identitet.