SMACK--a concept, a gathering. Welcome.
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Pure
Fiel a Verdad
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just so we're on the same page, here
http://www.movieforum.com/features/festivals/tiff00/reviews/requiemforadream.shtml
Requiem for a Dream
Cast: Jared Leto, Ellen Burstyn, Jennifer Connelly, Marlon Wayans, Christopher McDonald
Written by Darren Aronofsky and Hubert Selby Jr., based upon the novel by Hubert Selby Jr.
Directed by Darren Aronofsky
THE STORY:
Four Staten Island nobodies dream of better lives. Widow Sara Goldfarb, addicted to junk food and a motivational infomercial, ignores her son Harry's careless lifestyle of drugs and scams until one day a telemarketer promises her the chance of a television appearance. The call comes as an awakening, turning Sara to diet pills so that she can drop 30 pounds to fit into a decades old dress.
Harry and his girlfriend Marion--both casual drug users--aspire to establish a clothing design firm and along with their friend Tyrone, figure that a short adventure through drug trafficking will give them the windfall they need to get started. Within weeks, Sara becomes emaciated and paranoid as she waits for a response to her application.
Harry, Marion, and Thomas become the most copious consumers of their own merchandise. Each individual's need for a constant fix reigns supreme over their dignity as they scatter and sink deeper into denial, delusion, and physical anguish.
ROBERT L'S REVIEW
As a lifelong "extreme" filmmaking aficionado, I've willfully revisited "A Clockwork Orange", and "Last House On The Left" as often as my grandmother has seen "The Bells Of St. Mary's". After years of thinking I'd seen it all, I can honestly report that Darren (the indie hit "Pi") Aronofsky's adaptation of Hubert Selby Jr.'s 1978 novel ranks as one of the most nightmarish and excruciating films I've ever endured. In fact, "Requiem" defies the term of mere "film adaptation", and instead, should be reclassified as a full throttle audio-visual assault.
An unrelenting bleak, downward spiral through the horrors of drug addiction, "Requiem" is so much more than simply "Reefer Madness"--or worse, "The Boost"--jazzed up with a music video veneer. I'm sure, though, that many will rally for the film's censorship, if not outright destruction (Artisan is bravely releasing the film with the kiss of death NC-17 rating), and they'll be missing the point. "Requiem" could be screened in public schools in place of "The Cross And The Switchblade" and inspire many children never to take so much as a second Flinstone's chewable vitamin ever again.
A ground-breaking collision of brutally unsentimental writing, go-for-broke acting, unique digital FX, and sophisticated montage, "Requiem" employs more than 2,500 cuts where a typical film would utilize somewhere around 400-500. Repetitive, flash-frame montages capture the addict's need for routine. Split screens within locations evoke the distance between characters, even in their most intimate moments, as they sink deeper into their need for stimulation beyond each other.
Sara's drab Brighton Beach apartment becomes a living house of horrors, complete with cathode ray figures stepping out of the television set, and an utterly terrifying bellowing, lurching refrigerator beckoning her to feed. Time speeds up and slows down, often within the same shot, "Mean Streets"-styled camera mounts fuse the viewer face first into the hollowed eyes of addiction.
http://www.movieforum.com/features/festivals/tiff00/reviews/requiemforadream.shtml
Requiem for a Dream
Cast: Jared Leto, Ellen Burstyn, Jennifer Connelly, Marlon Wayans, Christopher McDonald
Written by Darren Aronofsky and Hubert Selby Jr., based upon the novel by Hubert Selby Jr.
Directed by Darren Aronofsky
THE STORY:
Four Staten Island nobodies dream of better lives. Widow Sara Goldfarb, addicted to junk food and a motivational infomercial, ignores her son Harry's careless lifestyle of drugs and scams until one day a telemarketer promises her the chance of a television appearance. The call comes as an awakening, turning Sara to diet pills so that she can drop 30 pounds to fit into a decades old dress.
Harry and his girlfriend Marion--both casual drug users--aspire to establish a clothing design firm and along with their friend Tyrone, figure that a short adventure through drug trafficking will give them the windfall they need to get started. Within weeks, Sara becomes emaciated and paranoid as she waits for a response to her application.
Harry, Marion, and Thomas become the most copious consumers of their own merchandise. Each individual's need for a constant fix reigns supreme over their dignity as they scatter and sink deeper into denial, delusion, and physical anguish.
ROBERT L'S REVIEW
As a lifelong "extreme" filmmaking aficionado, I've willfully revisited "A Clockwork Orange", and "Last House On The Left" as often as my grandmother has seen "The Bells Of St. Mary's". After years of thinking I'd seen it all, I can honestly report that Darren (the indie hit "Pi") Aronofsky's adaptation of Hubert Selby Jr.'s 1978 novel ranks as one of the most nightmarish and excruciating films I've ever endured. In fact, "Requiem" defies the term of mere "film adaptation", and instead, should be reclassified as a full throttle audio-visual assault.
An unrelenting bleak, downward spiral through the horrors of drug addiction, "Requiem" is so much more than simply "Reefer Madness"--or worse, "The Boost"--jazzed up with a music video veneer. I'm sure, though, that many will rally for the film's censorship, if not outright destruction (Artisan is bravely releasing the film with the kiss of death NC-17 rating), and they'll be missing the point. "Requiem" could be screened in public schools in place of "The Cross And The Switchblade" and inspire many children never to take so much as a second Flinstone's chewable vitamin ever again.
A ground-breaking collision of brutally unsentimental writing, go-for-broke acting, unique digital FX, and sophisticated montage, "Requiem" employs more than 2,500 cuts where a typical film would utilize somewhere around 400-500. Repetitive, flash-frame montages capture the addict's need for routine. Split screens within locations evoke the distance between characters, even in their most intimate moments, as they sink deeper into their need for stimulation beyond each other.
Sara's drab Brighton Beach apartment becomes a living house of horrors, complete with cathode ray figures stepping out of the television set, and an utterly terrifying bellowing, lurching refrigerator beckoning her to feed. Time speeds up and slows down, often within the same shot, "Mean Streets"-styled camera mounts fuse the viewer face first into the hollowed eyes of addiction.
Kajira Callista
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Pure said:
From experience i have learned that they are the same impulse. I at one point in my life found myself on that road to self destruction and loving it. I met someone who showed me i could have the same needs filled in a controlled way (his control) which was safer and better emotionally for me then my road to self destruction.
NoJo
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I don't think this is always true, or true of everybody. Otherwise why would some people (like me) have one impulse and not the other?
I don't have a self-destuctive side -- Unlike a close friend of mine who died due to her self-destructive impulse. Interstingly, my self-destructive friend gave the impression to most peple that she was a somewhat sadistic and cruel bitch. Maybe she was. But it was she herself she tortured the most.
Remember self-destructive (self-ANYTHING) is a schizoid state, where you're taking on TWO roles: You're both the oppressor and the oppressed. With OTHERS, You may relate to using either side of your "split" persona. So a self-destive person may be the bully or the bullied in a relationship with someone else.
sigsauerprinces
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i think they are different. and this is coming from someone who has had a self destructive side-it was larger in my 20's, its calmed down a bit. but personally i think the urge towards self destruction is sort of like-you eventually dont want to exist.. you dont want to feel. you're looking for an end.
where as the urge to suffer and undergo cruelty-to me its almost the opposite-its the urge to feel so intensely ALIVE. its a celebration of the electric zing of just being alive-every nerve and muscle on edge, nerve ends singing with pain-mind so conflicted,feeling humiliation and pain and yet enjoying it. so intensely alive.and wanting more-always striving to go further and FEEL more.. i find that much different than the urge to self destruct-the urge to eventually feel nothing because you dont exist anymore.
where as the urge to suffer and undergo cruelty-to me its almost the opposite-its the urge to feel so intensely ALIVE. its a celebration of the electric zing of just being alive-every nerve and muscle on edge, nerve ends singing with pain-mind so conflicted,feeling humiliation and pain and yet enjoying it. so intensely alive.and wanting more-always striving to go further and FEEL more.. i find that much different than the urge to self destruct-the urge to eventually feel nothing because you dont exist anymore.
NoJo
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As usual, Pure has provoked some deep thoughts.
What amazes me is how varied people's personal insights are.
I hadn't thought of it till now, but celebration of pain as the electric zing of being alive - an amazing and thought-provoking insight, sigsauerprinces - is apt. Pain, equally with pleasure, is an affirmation of what makes us alive.
Which is interesting, because the goal of ridding ourselevs of pleasure and pain is the core of so many religions, particularly Zen Buddhism. That goal has always looked pretty much lthe same as being dead to me, which is why I'm not comfortable with a lot of religions. I like my pleasure, I even like my pain. I like being alive.
What amazes me is how varied people's personal insights are.
I hadn't thought of it till now, but celebration of pain as the electric zing of being alive - an amazing and thought-provoking insight, sigsauerprinces - is apt. Pain, equally with pleasure, is an affirmation of what makes us alive.
Which is interesting, because the goal of ridding ourselevs of pleasure and pain is the core of so many religions, particularly Zen Buddhism. That goal has always looked pretty much lthe same as being dead to me, which is why I'm not comfortable with a lot of religions. I like my pleasure, I even like my pain. I like being alive.
bridgeburner
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I think one of the main attractions of suffering for me is the eventual (hopefully) release from suffering.
I remember when I was in 7th grade and preparing to get braces. First, they put these little plastic/rubber spacers between my back teeth for where the bands would go around them. These things made my gums and jaw incredibly sore but I couldn't stop myself from gritting my teeth to make them hurt more because the release from pain when I stopped gritting my teeth was so blissful.
-B
I remember when I was in 7th grade and preparing to get braces. First, they put these little plastic/rubber spacers between my back teeth for where the bands would go around them. These things made my gums and jaw incredibly sore but I couldn't stop myself from gritting my teeth to make them hurt more because the release from pain when I stopped gritting my teeth was so blissful.
-B
Pure
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There have been so good points:
Kaijira,
Good point, reminiscent of Sec'y the movie. Placing the 'pain infliction' in the hands of a sane and controlled other (even a sadist) is safer than in one's own hands. Another, ironically, is more concerned with one's safety!
SSP: You're slant is classical: The Marquis de Sade was as avid to beat as to be beaten, on grounds of nervous excitation.
SubJ: Yes, aversion to sensation is a problem area for Buddhism, in my view, but the Zen folks are a bit *Less* liable to it, hence the 'drunken master' etc.
BB, I see where you're coming from, and a related experience is to have a low level of ache/pain you forget is there, but when it's taken away by massage or codiene, what a high! But I'd add the point that death releases pain, so your desire for release... is it ever, or could it ever be, a desire for death (=destruction).
Kaijira,
Good point, reminiscent of Sec'y the movie. Placing the 'pain infliction' in the hands of a sane and controlled other (even a sadist) is safer than in one's own hands. Another, ironically, is more concerned with one's safety!
SSP: You're slant is classical: The Marquis de Sade was as avid to beat as to be beaten, on grounds of nervous excitation.
SubJ: Yes, aversion to sensation is a problem area for Buddhism, in my view, but the Zen folks are a bit *Less* liable to it, hence the 'drunken master' etc.
BB, I see where you're coming from, and a related experience is to have a low level of ache/pain you forget is there, but when it's taken away by massage or codiene, what a high! But I'd add the point that death releases pain, so your desire for release... is it ever, or could it ever be, a desire for death (=destruction).
bridgeburner
threadkiller
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Pure,
I don't equate my sexual release with death because orgasms feel good and death, however longed for from the pit of dark despair, is still depressing as hell.
This is not to say I don't have self-destructive tendencies. I've done and continue to do a lot of really not bright things, but they're not so much chosen because they're destructive as they are defaulted to because of an inability to change my patterns.
To keep it fairly light I'll use the example of procrastination. I'm horrible about it and it's caused me no end of problems. The simple seeming answer is to just quit procrastinating, but I can't. I have to literally wait to catch a wave of activity before I'm able to do certain things. I'm the girl who was up all night writing her term paper 12 hours before the deadline to turn it in.
For a long time I used to mentally flog myself over my inability to use the alloted time for things wisely. Finally I decided that since I work well under that kind of pressure perhaps it's just the way I'm wired ---- I artificially create that pressure because it's how I'm comfortable working.
Or maybe I like the mental flagellation of telling myself how horrid I am for putting things off?
Pardon while I go navel diving.
-B
I don't equate my sexual release with death because orgasms feel good and death, however longed for from the pit of dark despair, is still depressing as hell.
This is not to say I don't have self-destructive tendencies. I've done and continue to do a lot of really not bright things, but they're not so much chosen because they're destructive as they are defaulted to because of an inability to change my patterns.
To keep it fairly light I'll use the example of procrastination. I'm horrible about it and it's caused me no end of problems. The simple seeming answer is to just quit procrastinating, but I can't. I have to literally wait to catch a wave of activity before I'm able to do certain things. I'm the girl who was up all night writing her term paper 12 hours before the deadline to turn it in.
For a long time I used to mentally flog myself over my inability to use the alloted time for things wisely. Finally I decided that since I work well under that kind of pressure perhaps it's just the way I'm wired ---- I artificially create that pressure because it's how I'm comfortable working.
Or maybe I like the mental flagellation of telling myself how horrid I am for putting things off?
Pardon while I go navel diving.
-B
Pure
Fiel a Verdad
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Since this is not a thread about ethical or legal issues, I've put some thoughts on legal issues in another thread, "Safety" which may be of interest.
https://forum.literotica.com/showthread.php?s=&threadid=225954
https://forum.literotica.com/showthread.php?s=&threadid=225954
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My thoughts of right now.
So we've played with the non-consent idea. Lots of people want it, but the vast majority has specific ideas about their fantasy rapist. In a nutshell, the "rapist" is attractive, muscular, knows the workings of the female body like Casanova, and lusts after the "victim" with a gratifying obsession. Someone you wouldn't mind dating, if he weren't "raping" you. Evokes mild fear and a "reluctant" arousal, especially afterwards when you remember the naughty details. Real pain could even be involved--but it would be nice pain.
There's the flipside, mostly discussed (and lauded, I daresay) by rosco. The gnome. The brutish, dirty, ugly specimen of society, and I use the term loosely. The broken-toothed grin, the unwashed dick, the callous disconcern for the tender bits of a female body. The conqueror could fall into this category. Real pain is more likely, as is disregard for safety and mental health.
But there is in fact a middle ground, which to my knowledge has not ever been brought up: the obnoxious rapist. Some guys were outside my apartment the other day, talking and laughing too loudly, and through my annoyance, I wondered what it would be like to be used by men that merely pissed me off. That I would never desire to talk to, but I wouldn't fear them walking behind me in a dark alley; I'd be rolling my eyes at their general idiocy.
At least with the brute I could feel fear and hatred, strong emotions to justify my reaction. To that degree, I would get *something* out of the encounter. But with men like that...I think I'd just feel ill. Uncomfortable. Pathetic. All very weak emotions, not contributing any sort of desire even in retrospect.
Petty evil is not fantasy fodder.
So we've played with the non-consent idea. Lots of people want it, but the vast majority has specific ideas about their fantasy rapist. In a nutshell, the "rapist" is attractive, muscular, knows the workings of the female body like Casanova, and lusts after the "victim" with a gratifying obsession. Someone you wouldn't mind dating, if he weren't "raping" you. Evokes mild fear and a "reluctant" arousal, especially afterwards when you remember the naughty details. Real pain could even be involved--but it would be nice pain.
There's the flipside, mostly discussed (and lauded, I daresay) by rosco. The gnome. The brutish, dirty, ugly specimen of society, and I use the term loosely. The broken-toothed grin, the unwashed dick, the callous disconcern for the tender bits of a female body. The conqueror could fall into this category. Real pain is more likely, as is disregard for safety and mental health.
But there is in fact a middle ground, which to my knowledge has not ever been brought up: the obnoxious rapist. Some guys were outside my apartment the other day, talking and laughing too loudly, and through my annoyance, I wondered what it would be like to be used by men that merely pissed me off. That I would never desire to talk to, but I wouldn't fear them walking behind me in a dark alley; I'd be rolling my eyes at their general idiocy.
At least with the brute I could feel fear and hatred, strong emotions to justify my reaction. To that degree, I would get *something* out of the encounter. But with men like that...I think I'd just feel ill. Uncomfortable. Pathetic. All very weak emotions, not contributing any sort of desire even in retrospect.
Petty evil is not fantasy fodder.
incubus_dark
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I only stumbled on this thread today, not having had a lot of time to read the board lately. I’m not entirely sure whether Pure is espousing a creed or throwing out another red rag so that she might site back and enjoy the antics of everybody else. Nonetheless, interesting discussion and interesting thoughts.
To bring up something that was said in the early pages, perhaps by Catalina, it seems to me that if somebody goes out of their way to place degrading events in a mental framework which affords them the luxury of not feeling degraded per se, then they are not submitting; in that instance they are not a sub. Just an opinion.
I really liked Pure’s summary of frame violation; very concise, very cogent.
So, here’s another scenario. Not very polished I’m sorry to say but I didn’t have a lot of time to make up quality prose (about 8 minutes actually so it probably shows)…
He had been with her for months, nearly a year. He had whipped her tied her, the usual things one expects from a couple who identify themselves as into B&D. His favourite thing though, was to insert his whole hand into her: To fist her. He introduced it to her gently and considerately. He didn’t really hurt her. Well, not very much, and she came quickly to enjoy it so; the feeling of fullness, the exquisite pleasure of her vagina contracting on his carefully stilled hand during her orgasm.
It wasn’t long though before she began to worry about the other effect of his fetish, the stretching, the loosening of her. It was what he wanted, he reassured her, he liked it that way. He praised her for it, eased her fears of it. But they didn’t go away and occasionally she voiced them, always to be met with his reassurance. It was for her, an act of submission of which she could be perversely proud. When it comes down to it, he did like it. He liked to look into her. It gave him some measure of gratification to see her legs spread and her vagina gaping like a dark, wet tunnel.
The scene was staged, but not with any foreknowledge on her part. He tied her strappado from an eye in a ceiling beam and gagged her. She stood there for a while as nothing happened. This was not unusual in itself, sometimes he liked to just pose her and look at her; to make an objet d’art of her. Then the visitor arrived. She never saw him, even though she was not blindfolded; at no time did he walk in front of her. Her owner, standing next to her, reached over her back and pushed four fingers into her; pulling upward with enough force for her to feel the weight lessen on her feet. She felt the cool air inside her and knew she was gaping open; on display for some unknown stranger. She closed her eyes, but there was no way to hide.
“Christ, that’s huge”, said the strange voice.
“You want to fuck it?”
“Yes”, the stranger again.
Her master held her, quite gently, as she felt the stranger penetrate her. Then he sat before her and watched as she was used, by this stranger.
“I can hardly touch the sides, it’s like throwing a sausage down a hallway”, said the stranger.
“Hang on a minute, I’ll fix it for you”, and her master went to a draw and with a minimum of fumbling around, withdrew something. She saw it as he walked passed her. It was one of those soft rubber vaginas you see in sex shops. Something for men to fuck in the same way that a woman might fuck herself with a dildo. He was rubbing some lube onto it as he walked around her. She felt it on her opening, then the sudden stretch and fullness as he pushed it into her.
“Now try her”, he said as he again took his place sitting in front of her.
She felt the pressure and movement of the object, but the stranger was fucking the toy really, not her. But it was not this performance that her lover watched, but her face.
He watched her face intently; avidly. He saw the moistening of her eyes and the special glisten as they filled with tears. He saw the first drops roll down her cheeks. He soaked up every fleeting change of her facial expression; shame, humiliation, horror. And later, when they were once more alone, it was these that filled his mind while he used her for his own pleasure.
No spitting (ick), no overt anger, no physical violence but is it SMACK?
To bring up something that was said in the early pages, perhaps by Catalina, it seems to me that if somebody goes out of their way to place degrading events in a mental framework which affords them the luxury of not feeling degraded per se, then they are not submitting; in that instance they are not a sub. Just an opinion.
I really liked Pure’s summary of frame violation; very concise, very cogent.
So, here’s another scenario. Not very polished I’m sorry to say but I didn’t have a lot of time to make up quality prose (about 8 minutes actually so it probably shows)…
He had been with her for months, nearly a year. He had whipped her tied her, the usual things one expects from a couple who identify themselves as into B&D. His favourite thing though, was to insert his whole hand into her: To fist her. He introduced it to her gently and considerately. He didn’t really hurt her. Well, not very much, and she came quickly to enjoy it so; the feeling of fullness, the exquisite pleasure of her vagina contracting on his carefully stilled hand during her orgasm.
It wasn’t long though before she began to worry about the other effect of his fetish, the stretching, the loosening of her. It was what he wanted, he reassured her, he liked it that way. He praised her for it, eased her fears of it. But they didn’t go away and occasionally she voiced them, always to be met with his reassurance. It was for her, an act of submission of which she could be perversely proud. When it comes down to it, he did like it. He liked to look into her. It gave him some measure of gratification to see her legs spread and her vagina gaping like a dark, wet tunnel.
The scene was staged, but not with any foreknowledge on her part. He tied her strappado from an eye in a ceiling beam and gagged her. She stood there for a while as nothing happened. This was not unusual in itself, sometimes he liked to just pose her and look at her; to make an objet d’art of her. Then the visitor arrived. She never saw him, even though she was not blindfolded; at no time did he walk in front of her. Her owner, standing next to her, reached over her back and pushed four fingers into her; pulling upward with enough force for her to feel the weight lessen on her feet. She felt the cool air inside her and knew she was gaping open; on display for some unknown stranger. She closed her eyes, but there was no way to hide.
“Christ, that’s huge”, said the strange voice.
“You want to fuck it?”
“Yes”, the stranger again.
Her master held her, quite gently, as she felt the stranger penetrate her. Then he sat before her and watched as she was used, by this stranger.
“I can hardly touch the sides, it’s like throwing a sausage down a hallway”, said the stranger.
“Hang on a minute, I’ll fix it for you”, and her master went to a draw and with a minimum of fumbling around, withdrew something. She saw it as he walked passed her. It was one of those soft rubber vaginas you see in sex shops. Something for men to fuck in the same way that a woman might fuck herself with a dildo. He was rubbing some lube onto it as he walked around her. She felt it on her opening, then the sudden stretch and fullness as he pushed it into her.
“Now try her”, he said as he again took his place sitting in front of her.
She felt the pressure and movement of the object, but the stranger was fucking the toy really, not her. But it was not this performance that her lover watched, but her face.
He watched her face intently; avidly. He saw the moistening of her eyes and the special glisten as they filled with tears. He saw the first drops roll down her cheeks. He soaked up every fleeting change of her facial expression; shame, humiliation, horror. And later, when they were once more alone, it was these that filled his mind while he used her for his own pleasure.
No spitting (ick), no overt anger, no physical violence but is it SMACK?
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Christ, yes. And as someone who prides herself on being tight, I can vividly picture that pride going before a fall. So much greater the humiliation afterwards.
It's like an idea someone (probably Pure) brought up on Topopolis a while ago: there is this genre of Japanese fetish where the lovely female's face is squashed and disfigured (temporarily). The theme, emotional reaction, appeal, etc. is very similar.
And I do agree entirely that if a person does not allow oneself to be humiliated during their dominant half's endeavors, that person is not submitting. S'why I like to call them Tops and bottoms on this thread--in my personal semantic world, this allows more for the "I don't want to feel what you're trying to make me feel," which often leads to "But I'm feeling it anyway."
Awesome use of 8 minutes, inky. I'll bring THAT one up to T.
It's like an idea someone (probably Pure) brought up on Topopolis a while ago: there is this genre of Japanese fetish where the lovely female's face is squashed and disfigured (temporarily). The theme, emotional reaction, appeal, etc. is very similar.
And I do agree entirely that if a person does not allow oneself to be humiliated during their dominant half's endeavors, that person is not submitting. S'why I like to call them Tops and bottoms on this thread--in my personal semantic world, this allows more for the "I don't want to feel what you're trying to make me feel," which often leads to "But I'm feeling it anyway."
Awesome use of 8 minutes, inky. I'll bring THAT one up to T.
Pure
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Hi Incubus, and welcome,
//She felt the pressure and movement of the object, but the stranger was fucking the toy really, not her. But it was not this performance that her lover watched, but her face.
He watched her face intently; avidly. He saw the moistening of her eyes and the special glisten as they filled with tears. He saw the first drops roll down her cheeks. He soaked up every fleeting change of her facial expression; shame, humiliation, horror. And later, when they were once more alone, it was these that filled his mind while he used her for his own pleasure.
No spitting (ick), no overt anger, no physical violence but is it SMACK?//
I'd say it fits as a fine piece of erotic cruelty. Thanks!!
SMACK as a thread has no fences or walls. As a concept, the fantasy and realizations of amoral and cruel erotic impulses is the central core, but all bizarre and black topics are welcome.
The only real exclusion, besides stuff from self-said 'altruists', is of pre-planned or romanticized 'scening'; spontaneity is greatly esteemed. Physical violence is neither in nor out, depending on its creativity. Mental cruelty is prized.
Anger/rage is a theme of our ancestral Topopolis thread (q.v.).
Others have their own slant. Ask Quint, for instance, or Bridgeburner.
PS to quint; I think it was roscoe who mentioned face squashing or iirc stretching etc. (non permanent).
//She felt the pressure and movement of the object, but the stranger was fucking the toy really, not her. But it was not this performance that her lover watched, but her face.
He watched her face intently; avidly. He saw the moistening of her eyes and the special glisten as they filled with tears. He saw the first drops roll down her cheeks. He soaked up every fleeting change of her facial expression; shame, humiliation, horror. And later, when they were once more alone, it was these that filled his mind while he used her for his own pleasure.
No spitting (ick), no overt anger, no physical violence but is it SMACK?//
I'd say it fits as a fine piece of erotic cruelty. Thanks!!
SMACK as a thread has no fences or walls. As a concept, the fantasy and realizations of amoral and cruel erotic impulses is the central core, but all bizarre and black topics are welcome.
The only real exclusion, besides stuff from self-said 'altruists', is of pre-planned or romanticized 'scening'; spontaneity is greatly esteemed. Physical violence is neither in nor out, depending on its creativity. Mental cruelty is prized.
Anger/rage is a theme of our ancestral Topopolis thread (q.v.).
Others have their own slant. Ask Quint, for instance, or Bridgeburner.
PS to quint; I think it was roscoe who mentioned face squashing or iirc stretching etc. (non permanent).
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bridgeburner
threadkiller
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- Dec 5, 2001
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Quint,
Have you ever read any Richard Laymon? Officially he's a horror writer (or was, rather, since he died about a year ago) and that's as good a genre as any for him although his books aren't really supernatural usually. Anyway, the crazed, icky rapist is one of his fetishes and it's one of the reasons I read him every chance I get.
Night In the Lonesome October has a great scene under a bridge where the couple has decided to do the nasty and they're standing up getting it on when the girl feels someone pull her hair --- not her boyfriend. Turns out there's a gang of homeless men living under the bridge. They knock the boyfriend down and away and then they're all over her.
The boyfriend is trying to get his wits about him and has a flashlight or something and as he's struggling he gets a flash of one of the bums' erection and it's wet like he's been fucking the girl. All the time the guy can hear her struggling and fighting and the grunting and laughing of the bums but he can't really see what they're doing to her and later she won't tell him so he spends all this time wondering about it.
It's one of my favorite bits. I like Laymon's stories well enough but honestly I read his books for their porn-appeal. He's got the libido of a twisted 14 yo boy. His rapists are often grotesque, he likes sexual sadism and his characters struggle with their twisted sexual urges pretty constantly.
I only wish there were some real Laymon porn around.
-B
Have you ever read any Richard Laymon? Officially he's a horror writer (or was, rather, since he died about a year ago) and that's as good a genre as any for him although his books aren't really supernatural usually. Anyway, the crazed, icky rapist is one of his fetishes and it's one of the reasons I read him every chance I get.
Night In the Lonesome October has a great scene under a bridge where the couple has decided to do the nasty and they're standing up getting it on when the girl feels someone pull her hair --- not her boyfriend. Turns out there's a gang of homeless men living under the bridge. They knock the boyfriend down and away and then they're all over her.
The boyfriend is trying to get his wits about him and has a flashlight or something and as he's struggling he gets a flash of one of the bums' erection and it's wet like he's been fucking the girl. All the time the guy can hear her struggling and fighting and the grunting and laughing of the bums but he can't really see what they're doing to her and later she won't tell him so he spends all this time wondering about it.
It's one of my favorite bits. I like Laymon's stories well enough but honestly I read his books for their porn-appeal. He's got the libido of a twisted 14 yo boy. His rapists are often grotesque, he likes sexual sadism and his characters struggle with their twisted sexual urges pretty constantly.
I only wish there were some real Laymon porn around.
-B
bridgeburner
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Quint Part Deux,
At first I was thinking that the silly frat-boy train thing still turns me on. Jibbering idiots laughing and cutting up silly and talking about "boobies" and just being dumb rather than especially menacing all the while still raping the girl --- that's hot.
But then I thougt about my ex-landlord's son raping someone and I wanted to vomit. Of course, I have a very personal hatred for this guy so maybe that defeats the purpose, but I thought it was perhaps effective in demonstrating to me that there are situations where the specific man would make me want him to fail and get the shit kicked out of him ----- I wouldn't be able to get into the fantasy at all.
I seldom put myself in the victim's position in my head. I'm generally just a voyeur --- although occasionally I get that Porn-actor's-eye view of cock splitting pussy as if it were attached to my own belly.
-B
At first I was thinking that the silly frat-boy train thing still turns me on. Jibbering idiots laughing and cutting up silly and talking about "boobies" and just being dumb rather than especially menacing all the while still raping the girl --- that's hot.
But then I thougt about my ex-landlord's son raping someone and I wanted to vomit. Of course, I have a very personal hatred for this guy so maybe that defeats the purpose, but I thought it was perhaps effective in demonstrating to me that there are situations where the specific man would make me want him to fail and get the shit kicked out of him ----- I wouldn't be able to get into the fantasy at all.
I seldom put myself in the victim's position in my head. I'm generally just a voyeur --- although occasionally I get that Porn-actor's-eye view of cock splitting pussy as if it were attached to my own belly.
-B
rosco rathbone
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Quint said:
Oho, you have to get up mighty early in the morning to come up with a rape concept that old uncle rosco has not already considered under the bridge. Although I don't think I HAVE mentioned this one at literotica; so you get credit. It is, however, a longtime staple. In fact, one of my tricks--a very PC, feminist, granola type of cunt---shivers to her marrow at the thought of being forced to perform acts of oral servitude upon.....cocky loudmouth fraternity boys. Gnomes as such hold little terror for her. (All this in fantasy. Uncle rosco does not condone the use of female people as objects of forcible oral sexuality).
for student of black philosophy:
Also, to clarify a point of dark philosophy that is often blurry....although I very much like the idea of outcast-of-society/bum as gnome; the term "gnome" has really come to mean--for me--"being (male) suffering from unacknowledged/ unprocessed/ possibly passive-aggressive sexual rage". The drooling nasties quint refers to are what I call in my current terminology goblins.
rosco rathbone
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Totally wweird...after posting from here under the bridge, i read bb's posts and she mentions "bridge" (under) and frat boys. higher forces of synchronicity at work, what?
rosco rathbone
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conqueror: that scene in Joan of Arc (milla jovo version) where the (30years war?--my history blows) toothless, sweaty english soldier rapes JoA's sister up against the armoire in which she is hiding (nutting in about 3 strokes, avec grimace--a fine Excalibur style touch) and then kills her on the spot with a sword (stabbed through the body in a visual echo of the sexual violation.)
rosco rathbone
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Conqueror sex is related to my long-term fascination with premature ejaculation. Has anyone noticed how, in those "rape" stories aforementioned, the forcible loving always goes on and on, until the rapee feels the tides of orgasm sweep over her--almost against her will as it were---as the handsome, swarthy, white-toothed face of her oppressor leers over her etc. Anyhow, I believe that real conqueror sex---the VIkings, the headhunters raping the dying apache maidens after the massacre in Blood Meridian, the scenes in Excalibur and Joan of Arc and soforth...is, like the Hobbesian view of life-in-nature, nasty brutish and short.
Sexual surrogate theory, in the treatment of premature ejaculation, always looks for roots of malfunction in sexual rage and unprocessed anger. Likewise, the rape acts of horny conquerors, possibly trapped for weeks on longboats with no women or what have you, would be 3-pump affairs, what? Anyhow, food for thought.
Sexual surrogate theory, in the treatment of premature ejaculation, always looks for roots of malfunction in sexual rage and unprocessed anger. Likewise, the rape acts of horny conquerors, possibly trapped for weeks on longboats with no women or what have you, would be 3-pump affairs, what? Anyhow, food for thought.
bridgeburner
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It's only premature ejaculation if you intended to last longer. Conquerors don't have premature ejaculations -- the whole point is to get it in and get off. If he's into making it take a long time fine, but while the 3-pump nut is perhaps physically less brutal than an hour long rape, psychologically it packs a punch because it's like being used as a toilet or a snot rag.
He doesn't rape because he hates her personally. It's not about her. She's a prop. She has no identity. She's a hole to stick it in and he no more cares about drawing it out to make her suffer than he cares about drawing it out to give her pleasure. Who cares about her? It's about his dick.
Or so it pleases me to imagine.
-B
He doesn't rape because he hates her personally. It's not about her. She's a prop. She has no identity. She's a hole to stick it in and he no more cares about drawing it out to make her suffer than he cares about drawing it out to give her pleasure. Who cares about her? It's about his dick.
Or so it pleases me to imagine.
-B
rosco rathbone
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Picturing you and a group of your old school fellows standing with arms around each other's shoulders, with letter sweaters, singing the old school songs and smoking pipes...around the wreck of a coed with smoke comin out all her holes. meanwhile the sun sets over the quad and in his leather volume lined study the dean of men buggers the glee club president and sips sherry by a crackling fire.
