View allAll Photos Tagged BEDPOSTS
Effect of late evening sunlight hitting the crystal on the bedpost in the upper suite of the casita behind our house in the city of Querétaro, Mexico.
Skagway, Alaska, is historically considered the gateway to the Klondike Gold Rush of 1898.
The Gold Rush Cemetery is the oldest cemetery in Skagway. Many gold rush prospectors and early settlers are buried here.
What I found most interesting were the graves that had bedposts or fences around them.
Skagway, Alaska, is historically considered the gateway to the Klondike Gold Rush of 1898.
The Gold Rush Cemetery is the oldest cemetery in Skagway. Many gold rush prospectors and early settlers are buried here.
What I found most interesting were the graves that had bedposts or fences around them.
Or hang it up on my bedpost...
And join me on Primfeed!
www.primfeed.com/dasyrastep.resident/posts/c36adfa9-4151-...
this awesomely beautiful, gorgeously pieced and quilted gem is ALL MINE!!!
made by my special friend lynne (lily's quilts) as an angel quilt for me...i'm beyond thrilled (just to let you know HOW much i love this: i took it on my bed last night....to hang it on the bedpost).
thank you, lynne, from the button of my heart :)
Vintage boots by an old wooden bed in one of the small bedrooms of Winsor Castle, Pipe Springs. Tribal lands of the Kaibab band of Paiute Indians, Arizona.
Art will save us.
I was driving my car through town yesterday, and the Goldberg Variations came on. At the third variation, I felt that little jump in the pit of my stomach, that feeling of 'everything will be okay'. If someone loved music that much to write a piece like that, to write that kind of perfection, then we'll all be alright. So it might be all pain and sorrow right now (it is, trust me) but even now, art is the only thing that saves my sanity and clears my head. I feel like I'm incredibly privileged to be able to enjoy it and know it properly.
‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣୧ - - - - - ୨˚̣̣̣୧‿︵‿︵
Featuring // Loki
Loki - Abigail Velvet Set - FATPACK
see full blog post for credits⤵
Effect of late evening sunlight hitting the crystal on the bedpost in the upper suite of the casita behind our house in the city of Querétaro, Mexico.
I decided to try a some light BDSM. I was on trip to San Francisco, and I went to this dirty part of town, it was sleazy. Drunks and drug people on the street, and reeking odor of pee in the alley. I was alone, as I walked along. I was afraid, it was scarey.
Ugly men with tattoos and they made cat calls at me, I found my way to this store. Little shop of horrors.
I got this rubber dress. It's not too tight, it's too big. It should be tighter.
...but it was low cost and light material.
They tried to sell me more things, a neck brace, and chains, whips and cuffs. Some things were sharp and painful. Ropes, clips, straps.
Ouch. I wanted to get out of there.
So now I'm trying to adjust my bra inside this dress.
I'm worried, what will I do now? I might want to be tied up, but who will do it, would have to be a trusted friend. And ....what if having sex, and they DIE? Then I'd be in a cheap hotel, screaming, 911. Police would come, and find me spread eagled on the bed lashed to the bedpost. It would be in the newspapers , and my mother might find out.
I could give it a try, and be the domanatrix, and punish them as bad boys. I have my heels to grind in their faces or step on their naked bodies. Other than that? I don't know much. If I did do it. What would I charge $. Just a virgin.
After all...."I'm just a little girl in school, Bondage school". LOL.
Skagway, Alaska, is historically considered the gateway to the Klondike Gold Rush of 1898.
The Gold Rush Cemetery is the oldest cemetery in Skagway. Many gold rush prospectors and early settlers are buried here.
What I found most interesting were the graves that had bedposts or fences around them.
Our tour guide, Nikki. She told my interesting stories about living in Alaska.
So I've been tagged every now and then over the past year and a half, but then Kodi posted his tag and tagged me and I thought, "Why not?" I will try to keep my facts a bit more brief this time around.
1. Welcome to my room! This is as relatively clean as it gets. Everything gets shoved to a corner and magically, there is indeed a floor under my feet!
2. As you can tell, I am very dark and brooding, hence why I have my wrist being attacked by Spider-Frog. I've had that frog since 2007, and he can still fit on my wrist!
3. I'm so dark and brooding in fact, that I cut my hair. Actually, the real reason was because I had not cut it in a year and 3 months or so, and I am about to begin another semester where I will be working with clay on the wheel. I don't have anything to tie my hair up with except for catching the back with my work apron which hangs on the out-most bedpost.
4. By my feet, you can see many of my work done on the wheel in spring. I've done it before, but I still prefer hand building. The glaze colors also suck from my current university. My community college had a better selection, and I still get some stuff glazed over there for free because it helps fill the kiln there so that no energy is wasted. They don't need my help at the university. But yeah, that's what I have to show by my feet.
5. Also, check out my feet! Well they one is hiding behind a leg and the other is being cropped off. I have 5 pairs of footwear: Dress Shoes, Nice Regular Shoes, another pair of the Regular Shoes used only for working in the art studios, so really, my normal shoes, a pair of Moccasins, and then Sandels that I hardly ever wear for anything.
6. Speaking of a bed. I have finally moved back to the lower bunk of my bed after probably 8 or so years. I used to sleep on a couch in the den for a few years, and then I moved to the top bunk of my bed and slept on a blanket laid on top of the plywood, and now I'm back to a real mattress.
7. One of my pillows has dinosaurs on the case because dinosaurs are awesome!
8. Is that something I should be proud of? I mean, I am 21, so...
9. Screw it, dinosaurs are awesome, I'll never grow up, you can't make me!
10. I guess that's why I still mess around with all of this LEGO stuff. I have three bookshelves in my room for display and storage, and all the books are from when I was a kid, and berried in the bottom shelves and shoved in the corner.
11. You can't see the corner though, and that's because I have 14 of my 43 bins blocking the way. It took a long time to sort all the pieces into their respective colors, but now I am sorting certain colors with more than 2 bins into type. Progress is slow.
12. That bin full of packing peanuts used to be full of random pieces though, so at least I have those pieces sorted and they have the potential to be used. I never went digging in the bin because I would always forget about it, and there was all that stuff on top of it. I had those pieces go unsorted for 13 years.
13. 13 years ago, I was given one family's collection of pieces from their 3 high school and college aged sons, and then I've also had a friend donate pieces, and then most recently, a bunch of stuff from my pastor's son's old collection consisting of late 90's and early 2000's sets still mostly in tact. And all of the donations were for the low, low price of FREE! It pays to let people know you like LEGO, and it also pays to just be nice because then they give you free stuff. Now if only I could get my other friends to give me there stuff.
14. This is primarily why I don't use Bricklink and think a lot of people that go crazy with it, I'm looking at you Aaron, are well, crazy. He had $30 to spend and he managed to cut a $300+ order down to the $30; insane. I tend to just build with what I already have because most of it, I still haven't even gotten around to using in MOCs. I do actualy have a Bricklink order in the works though, and it is mainly for pieces to replace the broken ones in my Star Wars collection, and the ones I keep stealing because they are going to be a lot easier to use when loose.
15. I will end my rambling, I think I failed in trying to keep things brief, but I tried to tie them all in to one another. The final fact is that I am actually running out of room for the Star Wars collection and it spilled over into my room now, and to be honest, with all the rehashes, the jacked up prices, and the randomness of some sets, mainly those battlepacks, as well as all the Episode VII sets looking very bland, I am actually losing interest in adding to my collection. I'd rather try to get some of the older ones I missed out on that have yet to be rehashed. My goal was never to collect every set, but a lot of the time now, I buy the set, and display, but never play. There are some I can't pass up on, but it is getting a bit ridiculous.
Sorry, I suck at these tagged things. Actually, I am writing more like I do on MOCpages. I probably wrote more than my first Tagged. That's why my descriptions of MOCs that are also on MOCpages have links for more details. I don't like flooding Flickr with too many images and then a bunch of detail on each image.
I have tagged people. Do with that what you will.
Op nummer vijf, zes zeven, maakt niet uit
van de X straat, als je daar klopt op de ruit
Eerst eenmaal , en nog drie, dan mag je door de entree
Alleen, en soms zelfs met z'n twee
Een woordeloze gerant gaat je vooraf,
Trappen, eindeloze gangen wisselen elkaar af
gedecoreerd met barokke bronzen, en engelen van goud
met Aphodites en met Salomees
Als hij vrij is, vraag naar kamer veertig en vier
"Cleopatra", zo noemen ze die hier
Alwaar de bedposten, in rococo uitgehouwen
gevormd worden door negers met flambauwen
Tussen deze ebbenhouten naakte slaven
Die zwijgend de volgende gebeurtenissen zullen aanschouwen
En in een spiegel daarboven die dit alles bespied
Omarm ik, langzaam, Melody
(naar Serge Gainsbourg vertaling © PJ Menke)
ojp: **
Skagway, Alaska, is historically considered the gateway to the Klondike Gold Rush of 1898.
The Gold Rush Cemetery is the oldest cemetery in Skagway. Many gold rush prospectors and early settlers are buried here.
What I found most interesting were the graves that had bedposts or fences around them.
Skagway, Alaska, is historically considered the gateway to the Klondike Gold Rush of 1898.
The Gold Rush Cemetery is the oldest cemetery in Skagway. Many gold rush prospectors and early settlers are buried here.
What I found most interesting were the graves that had bedposts or fences around them.
When the dishonourable fell, Odin would not accept them in his Great Hall of Valhalla. He cursed them to become Draugar, animated corpses with supernatural powers. Upon seeing the state of the modern world, Odin formed a Legion of the Damned who had to atone for their past by punishing the present in a manner akin to their original crimes. These are their tales and their penances.
Tales of Odin’s Legion of the Draugar: Bjorn’s story
Most draugar have supernatural powers and Bjorn’s is to shapeshift
In life, Bjorn was a serial bigamist. This made him an oath-breaker, which is an unforgivably serious crime to the eyes of the Norse of old. In his fury, Odin’s curse was to unleash Bjorn-the-Draugr on the modern Christendom to seek out male adulterers and provide their punishment. This he would do by changing his appearance to that of alluring young female and visit trendy bars. Assuming his alter ego, Bjornetta, there was very little for Bjorn to do to spring the trap. Adulterous men, out on the prowl, would orbit her like braindead lepidoptera around a 60-watt light bulb hanging out on the veranda on a hot, sweltering summer’s night. Eventually one would circle in to his doom*. This where the fun would begin**. Having taken them back to his/her pad, Bjornetta would suggest some kinky games to get things going. Flickr policies prohibit me from documenting the details, but let’s just say the end result was that the aforementioned adulterous male would find themselves superglued a bedpost by his most precious appendage. As Bjornetta gently placed an axe next to him, the whimpering man would invariable blub something to the effect of, “Oh god! You are not going to chop it off are you?”. To which, Bjornetta would reply, “No. But you probably are” as she proceed to set light to the bed and walk out of the house.
* Some people may be pleased to note, in recent times Bjorn has snared a Donald and a Boris.
** Fun is a relative concept. Boris and Donald did not find it so.
A note on the story:
I’ve adapted this version of Bjorn’s punishment from a song I recently heard; however, the original version, while similar in concept, was more graphic, painful, downright nasty and involved self-surgery with a rusty knitting needle. It was based on the threat my wife made if I ever strayed. I have not.
A bit about the photo:
The was a fun evening’s collaboration with my fellow banter- and photo-buddies, the beautiful Mya on/off and the elusive shutterbug_uk2012
The photo was old-school smoke generators and flashes (luckily the local rozzers were not looking in our direction, or just couldn't care... probably busy booking someone for speeding). A hint of basic photoshop adjustments.
This is Batman, he has 3 legs and can fly like the wind when he sees a bird.
This is how he watches from behind the bedpost.
Press "L" to view on black
.
The Legends of the Holly bush
.
.
- It was the Burning Bush of Moses’ vision.
- It was the plant of Mother Holle (or Hel), the Norse underworld Goddess.
- In Germany, witches used Holly for making wands.
- The Dionysian cult of Roman times displayed the holly with ivy, as the symbol of feminine and masculine balance during times of the solstitial festival.
- It is symbolic of the crown of thorns and drops of blood on the Savior’s head.
- Holly was also brought into the house variously to protect the home from malevolent faeries.
- Holly trees were traditionally known for protection from lightning strikes, to which end they were planted near a house. The spines on the distinctively-shaped holly leaves can act as miniature lightning conductors, thereby protecting the tree and other nearby objects.
- Holly was associated with thunder gods such as Thor and Taranis.
- When the Holy Family was fleeing into the desert from Herod, they hid the baby Jesus in a holly bush. At that time, the leaves had fallen as the holly was not an evergreen. Mary prayed for protection, and the leaves grew - green to hide and protect the baby Jesus.
- The Druids believed that holly, with its shiny leaves and red berries stayed green to keep the earth beautiful when the sacred oak lost it leaves.
- The berries and leaves were used to ward off witchcraft and the evil eye.
- Put a sprig of holly on the bedpost to bring sweet dreams.
- If holly is hung in the barn, animals will fatten and thrive.
- Lucky charms comprising of holly leaves are created in Japan
- The Chinese use Holly during new year festivities.
- If there is an abundance of red berries on a bush, it is believed that the winter would be severe as the bush is providing extra food for the birds to get through a harsh winter.
"So, if the witch killed the King" theorises Sherlock on a page of far, far too much text (sorry!), "why did she kidnap Princess Poppyanna instead of killing her too? Why? Because she was trying to protect her from other courtly 'intrigues'..."
"Protect me...?" Princess Poppyanna wonders out loud.
"It's only natural, a mother wanting to protect her child..." states Sherlock to a chorus of gasps.
"Yes..." the witch confesses, "the King seduced me... I thought he loved me, but I was just another 'exotic' notch on his bedpost. But when he found out I had a daughter by him... and as his own wife was barren...," the Witch dabs at her eye with a black handkerchief. "He bought my silence with the protection of these woods and all within... though I did not know part of that protection would be the terrible stories told to keep people from them and from me!"
"Then... that explains why these woods were familiar to me..." Poppyanna recalls, "because I once played in them as a child... ohmyGod, Mommy! Ewwww, hold on, does that mean I'm going to turn green too?"
"So," Sherlock continues, finding the family reunion slightly tiresome, "who was she saving the Princess from? The Wicked Step-Sister? After all, the poison used to kill the King did come from her native land of Willow Reach..."
"No!" Gisella looks shocked.
"But when could she have got the poison?," continues Sherlock, "she hasn't been back there for years... exiled because of her wickedness. No one there likes her. Not even the evil poison-sellers."
"It's true," sniffs Gisella, "but my new Poppa tried to give me a new life here and I've tried to be less wicked..."
"True, you're more of a bitch now than really wicked," Princess Poppyanna reassures her, "but why did you steal my father's throne from me?"
"Because you're too sweet and kindly, Poppyanna," Gisella confesses, "the machinations of rulership would have chewed up your innocent soul and spat it out... and I couldn't bear that as you're the closest thing to a friend I've ever had. But if anyone in the Kings court tried to control me, I'd claw their eyes out!"
"So, that leaves..."
"The Trollkin? Those fluffy beasts! I'll slay them!" Prince Charming goes for his sword again.
"It would probably be treason shooting you," Watson states to Prince Charming," but I'd be willing to risk it."
"... which leaves Prince Charming. The fairy tale Lothario... fresh in from Willow Reach I believe? All those Princesses but you've never managed to live happily ever after have you? No kingdom to call your own. So perhaps instead of sleeping your way to a throne you'd try to take one by subterfuge and poison!"
"Yes, I saw him poison the King's mead in my crystal ball... that's why I knew I had to save my beloved daughter!" the Witch adds accusingly.
"Because surely Poppyanna would've been next," Sherlock goes on, "and she'd be easy to pickings for him. Except Gisella grabbed the throne. So the Prince had to quickly rethink. And here's the perfect opportunity... lure Gisella into the woods... kill her. Find the Witch and Poppyanna. Kill both of them too. Blame the Witch, after all, everyone does, come back a hero for smiting her and, by popular acclaim take the throne for himself!"
Week 30 — Outtake #3
He's met her twice on this garden. The first was on her eighteenth birthday party, a handful of months after they had met and traded letters almost daily. He had found her at the Orchard, an escapee from the pressure of the party in her parents' winter garden, her red bow hanging slightly at the side of her head. It wasn't like her at all, so he wondered if one of her sisters had made her wear it. It seemed like the kind of thing Maddie would do, according to the way she told them in her letters.
She had been alone, playing with a couple of dogs, and he had approached her with a box. She had opened it, silently, and picked up the pair of binoculars she'd end up taking with her everywhere. She had leaned in and placed a grateful kiss on his cheek, making him blush, and then herself.
She had stood at the edge of the orchard then, the lenses placed against her face, testing them. He had approached her and they hadn't touched anymore, only traded a couple of words, too few for how much they spoke in letters. He had left, with the weight of the world on his chest and the certainty that he was about to make the greatest mistake of his life.
The second time had been four years later, on the day of her mother's funeral. She had wanted to travel, to follow him, to see the world, but her mother's illness made her stay. She was the only single sister, it made sense for her to stay at home and watch her fade away in immense fits of pain. So he'd found her, dressed in black from top to bottom, with the binoculars in her hand.
"Sylvia." He had called.
She had mentioned his broken engagement, asked him if he was going to stay. He had told her about the invitation to head the African expeditions. His departure. She had held her tears stoically, nodding and wishing him well. Then she had turned around and fished the small gold chain she had around her neck, tugging on it until it broke. He'd seen it dangling from the tips of her fingers, the cross turning to one side, and then the other, and then the other. He hadn't looked away when she threw it into the river that sided the Orchard, so he could hear her soft whisper, almost a whine against the wind.
"I'm done with you."
He didn't know whether she was talking to him or God, but he had a feeling it was meant for the latter.
----
Now they are both naked, leaning against the intricate surface or the victorian bedpost and he finally dares to ask why she threw the chain in the river, seven years ago. He hasn't heard her talk of God ever since, but then again they haven't talked that much. Mostly they kiss and moan and whisper promises that they know they won't keep. But they don't touch that subject.
"I couldn't — I still can't understand a god that will show me the kind of love he did, the kind of gloriousness that awaited me, and then took it away and placed him on the other side of the world. It's cruel. He dangled the life I could have had in front of my eyes, only to let me find, later, that I could never have it. That I could never have you."
"We're here now." It's all he can say.
"You're still not mine." It's a whisper, almost imperceptible. He sighs against her neck.
"I hate to think I'm the reason you stopped believing in god, when you're the one who made me a faithful man."
She smiles softly and kisses his words away.
Artist
Edward Hopper (1882-1967)
Title
A Woman in the Sun
Date
1961
As Edward Hopper matured he left more and more visual detail out of his paintings and focused on the psychological reality of his subjects. In A Woman in the Sun, a nude female stands in a shaft of raking light from a nearby window. The room has been reduced to its simplest architectural components. The few judicious details that remain—a pair of black pumps, the turned wood bedposts, and the vaguely delineated painting on the wall—only accentuate the barrenness of the scene and the figure. The voyeuristic, almost cinematic setting suggests a narrative, enticing the viewer to imagine the events that may have occurred prior to the scene we now view, and what will happen next. Hopper’s wife, Josephine Nivison Hopper, served as the model for this figure as she did for many of the women who appeared in his paintings. She was seventy-eight at the time of this painting, but Hopper transformed her, like the rest of the scene, according to his own internal vision rather than faithfully adhering to realistic detail.
Skagway, Alaska, is historically considered the gateway to the Klondike Gold Rush of 1898.
The Gold Rush Cemetery is the oldest cemetery in Skagway. Many gold rush prospectors and early settlers are buried here.
What I found most interesting were the graves that had bedposts or fences around them.
Louisville Slugger Factory
J. Frederick Hillerich moved to Louisville in 1856, where He started a woodworking shop. By 1864 "J.F. Hillerich, Job Turning" was in business and filled orders for everything from balusters to bedposts. Hillerich’s eldest son, John Andrew "Bud" Hillerich, was born in Louisville in 1866.
In 1880, Bud Hillerich, who was an amateur baseball player, became an apprentice in his father's shop. Young Bud made his own baseball bats along with bats for several of his teammates>
There is debate over the origins of the company's first bat for a professional player, but Bud most certainly played a key role in getting his father's business involved with what would become the company's signature item.
According to company legend, the first pro bat was turned by Bud for Pete Browning in 1884. Browning was a star on Louisville's professional American Association team–the Eclipse. On a spring afternoon Bud, then seventeen years old, witnessed Browning break his favorite bat. Bud offered to make a bat for his hero and Browning accepted. According to the story, after the young wood shop apprentice lathed a quality stick from white ash Browning got three hits with it in the next game. Because of his tremendous hitting power, Browning was known as "The Louisville Slugger" years before the Hillerich family trademarked the name for their bats.
nighttime version of - this
bah 2 identical pictures within 5 days. i'm sorry, i'm at school with no tripod, limited sunlight, and limited resources. this is what you get for now!
13737
With nearly a hundred cruise ship visits to the Auckland of 2017, we're currently beset by our bureaucratic spin doctors' assumptions on just how popular their alleged world-class super-city has become as a port-of-call.
However, such hyperbolic acclaim is reduced to a mere shade of a much earlier era when internecine war between the Republic of China and the Empire of Japan, which included the use of chemical and bacteriological weapons, put paid to the Far East as a destination for the cruise ships of the 1930s.
And so it came to pass that the fashionable landing-places of the South Seas enjoyed a prosperity that would not be repeated for eight decades, for in that earlier time the sight of three or four cruise ships lined up along our wharves was not uncommon, with even the 1930 Wynyard Wharf at Freemans Bay called into duty as a passenger terminus.
However, this particular tale doesn't concern those ships, but rather about the first of the large Passenger Yachts to call, which was to be seen at the Oil Wharf in February 1935. Well we might goggle at the floating gin palaces that flaunt their owners' brazen wealth in the environs of what is now called Viaduct Harbour, but when 55 year old brewing magnate Wally Moyne brought his entourage of through-and-through posh persons to town aboard his 83 metre Rosaura, few gobs were left unsmacked among the more impressionable our forebears.
Also known as Lieutenant Colonel Walter Edward Guinness, 1st Baron Moyne, DSO & Bar, said Wally was cruising for four months on his new boat - he'd sunk her predecessor, the equally gargantuan Roussalka, when she ran on to a rock in thick fog off the Irish coast 17 months earlier. On that occasion all of the passengers and crew were rescued, as was his pet Panamanian monkey. Named Gandhi (to whom it bore a peculiar resemblance), the antics of the securely chained beastie were now amusing the colonial beau monde, whose eyes had never bulged further from their sockets.
Eight en-suite staterooms provided accommodation for up to a dozen guests, but by the time the graceful craft arrived at the farthest reach of her 52,424 kilometre cruise, there were only three passenger aboard. First was Wally's lady friend Vera, better known in the gossip mags as the estranged wife of the Baronet Sir Henry John Delves Broughton, who is chiefly remembered for, (although acquitted), murdering the Earl of Erroll (an event that was the basis of the 1987 film White Mischief).
After their wining and dining the Governor General and his missus at Wellington, 43 year old Vera Broughton, that big game hunter and intrepid sports-person, thrashed Viscountess Bledisloe at tennis before flying from Rongotai aerodrome to Auckland's Hobsonville in an open two seater biplane, from whence she made an amphibian flight to the Bay of Islands for a spot of big game fishing.
Also aboard was Terence Philip, with just a touch of Attila the Hun around the jaw line, Philip was excruciatingly handsome, charming and a well-heeled London art dealer, who specialised in flogging expensive British pictures to rich Yanks. He was also a good mate of the last passenger's 'æsthete' cousin by marriage. She was the 50 year old Mrs Winston Churchill, who would seem to be having a sorely needed break from the frenetic lifestyle of her manic-depressive husband and the rough-and-tumble of his more dubious chums.
So far we've recounted not much more than bowdlerised version concerning the toffs swanning around our coasts on their floating realm of conspicuous wealth, but for rat’s arse connoisseurs of lascivious titillation, let us digress to a tad more dishing of that most fiercely spiced of dirts...
Mr Pug, who'd lead us a decade later to a two-nil victory in the final round of that spot of bother we had with the Boche, had finally outgrown his rambunctious predilection for batting for the other side - that virtually ubiquitous rite of passage among his caste, (among whom it was reasoned that such experience went a long way to making a enlightened sort of cove more fun for an eventual better half when it came to bedroom sports). So exotic matinee idols that looked like Tarzan, but talked like Jane, gave way to an heterodoxical sort of bit on the side named Doris.
Emanating from the wrong side of the tracks, the Viscountess Castlerosse had taken life by the scruff of the neck and screwed her way to the top in her role as outrageous enchantress on the international society circuit. Legend would have us believe that she bewitched the naïve Winnie with the Cleopatra Clench. A talent for which technique she was said to share with a certain American divorcee, who would besot a king-to-be on a previous cruise of the Rosaura.
So while her husband was snuggling up with his notorious courtesan on the Riviera, darling Clementine fell head-over-heels for the only superficially eligible guest aboard the motor yacht. Unburdened by an overwhelming work ethic, or anything so shoddy as driving ambition, and so utterly unlike her husband in almost every respect, the suave Terence Philip, an homme fatale, with a reputation for witty drawing-room persiflage was "not the marrying kind" - as they used to say in those relatively well-mannered days before we all succumbed to politically correct gay-speak.
And so, after a fortnight on our coasts and laden with a couple of Komodo Dragons, a pair of Tuatara and two Malayan Sun bears in a deck cage, the Rosaura cleared Deep Water Cove in the Bay of Islands for New Caledonia, while a somewhat embarrassed and melancholic Clemmie, who'd been shaken to her core by Terence Philip's extravagant travesties of flirtation, moped around the ship's ultra-luxe music room and library.
Retold and embellished by subsequent generations, the past is said to be the only dead thing that smells sweet, so, of course there's a whole lot more to this tale of adventure, but this ain't gonna be the place for it. We'll just have to settle here for the eventual fates of those involved.
Named after Moyne's daughter, the Rosaura was the first to go; requisitioned by the Royal Navy the motor yacht struck a mine off the coast of Libya in 1941 and sank taking 78 lives with her.
At 64 the colossally rich, well-meaning, and intelligent bon viveur, Lord Moyne was assassinated at Cairo by Israeli terrorists in 1944.
Considered one of the best-dressed women of her time, the distinguished ethnographic photographer Vera Broughton never remarried, soldiering on to a timely demise in 1968.
Subsequently a life peeress in her own right, Baroness Clementine Ogilvy Spencer-Churchill, died at the age of 92 in 1977.
To have news value has been likened to having a tin can tied to one's tail and Terence Philip's place in posterity appears to be represented by no more than his friendship with Clementine Churchill. However, the alleged receiver of swollen goods is depicted by the actor Simon Williams in the 2002 TV movie The Gathering Storm, a biographical film about the Churchills in the years between 1934 and 1939. Other parts include Vanessa Redgrave as Clementine Churchill, John Standing as Lord Moyne and Albert Finney as Winston Churchill.
La penultima Dogaressa of the unfinished Palazzo Venier dei Leoni at Venice, Winnie's by then impoverished girlfriend Doris, whose Lion-hunting career among the denizens of deepest Belgravia might be compared to the ups and downs of a barmaid's knickers, turned out to be just another notch on some mighty fine bedposts. Exhausted, the grande horizontale succumbed to a drug overdose in 1942.
Winston had wanted every kind of love that was available, but couldn't find all of them in the same person, or the same sex. But like Rudyard Kipling, having at the end of the day probably come to the conclusion that a good woman is only a woman, but a good cigar is a smoke, at the age of 90 the old warmonger faded away to a real bonzer send-off in 1965.
And the moral of the yarn? Like the more ostentatious of our current batch of gadflying Real Estate speculators, with a fondness for beige Leatherette - you'll never know how popular you are until you own an effin big motor boat.
My first corset bought again online same place i bought my french maids outfit cant wait to try the corset on should be able to bring show some curves once laced up Who would love to lace me in my corset ? I will hold onto the bedpost lol
Well, I can hope! :))
She's sitting on the edge of my bed fascinated by the beam from her laser light toy. The stripes on her head are caused by sunlight coming through the blinds.
Although I like the previous portrait, with its strong and colourful expression, I actually prefer this one, which I think is much more subtle and intimate. Carlos is more relaxed here and I managed to get real close without him offering much of a thought to my camera. Actually he was feeling rather down in these photos due to an attack of Conjunctivitis in one of his eyes, which seems to be spreading across the entire town here like a forest fire. I had just finished cleaning and treating his eye so that he could go to bed in peace.
The soft lighting in these portraits came from the warmly coloured, Argentinian, glass-beaded, bedside table lamps, which were the only source of lighting during the shoot. To make it even softer I had actually forgotten to take off the polaroid filter on my lens, but the portraits would probably have turned out better without such a filter.
In the previous image you can actually see the wooden turned bedpost of his antique Imperial bed in the background bokeh.
An Unexpected Consequence
Something woke me up around 3:30 am that Saturday morning, not sure what. But something since my head was throbbing, I assumed that was the culprit.
I slowly, silently arose, not wishing to disturb the others who had gathered in our suite's living room for a “sleepover after an evening of heavy partying. But by the looks, everyone was still passed out.
I wasn’t surprised, judging from the amount of drinks we all had consumed.
What happy drunks we had all been.
I carefully tiptoed amongst them through the room, deciding to get aspirin from my bathroom.
The girls and I had all fallen asleep in the living room instead of retiring to our respective bedrooms that connected to the master suite
I was surprised to see my bedroom door was closed.
Was someone else inside?
I looked around the room, not noticing anyone missing.
Shrugging it off, I went inside, closing the door behind me.
I saw my reflection in the wall-sized mirror at the end of the room, next to the surprisingly open outside balcony door.
“Looking good.” I complimented myself.
I was wearing my slinking long pure silk nightgown, coloured a deep chocolate brown. Along with my shiny matching robe. The robe was open and I could see my peaking out chest, my smallish mounds bulging, sexily outlined by my nightgown.
I ran my fingers down the front, touching them, feeling a rather pleasant sensation that I was still not awake enough to fully enjoy.
There is nothing like the feel of a bit of nice silk lying against one’s naked figure.
I took a step back, admiring my figure, clad tightly in shiny silk, with jewels sparkling that were reflected in the hotel suite's mammoth mirror.
For, from my evening out, I was still wearing my long diamond earrings(£18,000) and three diamond rings(£12,000,£5,000, £3,000) because I love to sleep with my diamonds on, and they had looked so pretty with my black satin evening gown, along with the rest of my diamonds, that I had worn out for the evening before.
They had looked even more delicious worn with my spaghetti strap chocolate silk slinky nightgown as I played with them,and myself, a wee bit more.
I guess I kept wearing them because I wanted the feeling to continue on, as it was.
We had all been dressed up to the nines, attire, and jewellery, Friday evening, including the three of us girls who were staying in the two connected rooms.
Though last night those rooms, like mine, had been empty since all of us were asleep in the living room, sort of an adult storytelling sleepover.
Though I will admit deep down a smouldering yearning was felt to have it being a role-playing sleepover.
Now as I looked myself over in the mirror I started to have a prickly sensation that I was after all, not alone in the room.
I literally jumped because that feeling was immediately confirmed as an unfamiliar male voice commanded:
“Freeze sister, not a peep out of you now!”
I froze… not knowing what the hell was going on.
Except I was correct in using the word ‘Hell’
^^^^
A thin, muscular male comes out of one of the room’s shadowy corners, facing me.
I could tell his intentions by the black tight-fitting spandex suit, gloves, and ski mask he was wearing.
He nodded his head to me….
“I don’t wish to hurt you, lady, I’m only after the “ice” I was told you were wearing out tonight. Now don’t scream. I will use force and some of your friends may be hurt. You don’t want that to happen, do you? Nod if you’re going to be a good lass.”
I nodded yes, feeling my earrings swing against my face.
“That’s the girl. Undo your pretty robe, drop it to the floor. Good. Now move it over unto the bed.”
I did so and he picked up my robe laying it out onto the end of the bed. Then he picked up my robe's satin sash.
“Now ladybird , hold out your hands.”
I obeyed. He looked down at my fingers. I could see my rings glistening and saw he was watching also.
He pleasurably sighed, then got to business.
“Spread out your fingers!”
I did and he slowly located, then worked off my three pretty rings. Reaching over, he plopped each onto my chocolate-coloured silk robe.
“Now sister, clasp your hands in front of you…”
I obeyed and he firmly tied my wrists together with the robe’s silk sash.
“Now lay back on the bed”
I did so and he lifted my bound wrists and using one of my long black satin gloves tied them to a bedpost. Then he took the other glove gagging my mouth with it.
I could see my reflection in the vanity mirror. Almost surreal, like I was watching someone else.
He turned on his torch, catching my long diamond earrings in the beam.
“Blinding those, lovely to look at, but I’m running out of time aren’t I? Leave them for later, eh luv!”
Moving easily like a muscular black panther, he rose and strolled over to the vanity dresser. He opened the pair of jewelry cases belonging to me and my sister-in-law Cadie.
The beam caught up with the reflection of the jewellery both contained. I could see them sparkling.
He turns, shined the light in my face…
I was told you birds were wearing “ice” but there’s much more here. Let’s say I save time by taking it all for sorting later..”
It wasn’t a question.
With a sigh, I watched as he emptied onto my silk robe, the glimmering contents of first one, then the other of our jewel cases.
The pile dazzled with explosive, expensive sparkling.
Discarding both emptied cases, he turned his light back on the dresser. There were more of our expensive personal items laid out there. Cadie’s, my husband’s, and mine.
Several times he reached in sweeping some of them into his palm. Dumping them onto the chocolate-coloured silk robe
My husband’s possessions. Rolex money clip, billfold, silver gunmetal cigarette case, and matching lighter.
Cade’s silver comb and mirror, silver makeup compact, and her satin evening clutch.
Along with my gold makeup compact kit, gold Lamé clutch purse, gold cigarette case, and gold lighter.
He next shined the light carefully around the room.
Stopping on the open closet.
He went over and rummaged through it.
He whistled, and from my close he pulled out my rust-coloured mink jacket, throwing it onto the bed.
Then he turned back, fingering through my good skirts, blouses, party dresses, gowns, satins, and silks all of them.
He pulled my back satin opera outfit, a long satin skirt with the rhinestone belt and matching rhinestone embellished jacket, that I usually wore with one of my silky long-sleeved high-neck tops.
Lovely this he said shingling his light so it sparkled.
Then he tossed it on my bed, covering the fur.
He happily “dived” back in, and I heard him exclaiming…
“This is more like it, good thing I didn’t take a pass on the closet.”
He was pulling out the black satin gown with rhinestone trimmings I had worn out this past evening. His light caught my beautiful broach (£38,000), which I had left attached.
it came into sparkling life under the torch beam.
He whistled as he walked over, eyeing it up.
The thief then shined his torch beam in my face
You weren’t going to try and hold this out now were you love? I’ll pretend you were going to point it out.”
He laid it out on the bed, then approached me…
“With that said, lady. Are you holding anything else out!”
I shook my head, no, my eyes pleading since my mouth was gagged into silence.
Grinning, his torch beam was shined into one ear then the other
“Not quite telling the truth, Lovely sparkler’s them.”
He reached up, I was limp, with no fight in me.
The thief then laid the torch on the bed…
With his teeth the wanker pulled off his thin black gloves, he looked positively evil wearing that ski mask. His eyes are large and I swear, beguilingly, studying me.
His mouth opened wide as he reached over with long touching fingers, to begin working off each of my earrings, tossing them onto the valuably shimmering piled out on my beautiful satiny silky robe.
Again he stared into my eyes, his own masked lined menacing one’s mere millimeters away.
“Not saying I don’t trust you telling your not hiding anything valuable, but, well luv, I’ll be having myself a look anyway. You’ll understand…”
I cringed, arching my back as his fingers grasped my arms.
He then reached down and squeezed around my bulging chest ,noticing they were hard and perking, pointing up through the sheer fabric of my silky nightgown like a pair of plump fleshy mounds with hard tips.
Then I felt his fingers smoothly running over along my silk-clad figure, until he reached my wet pussy and discovers why my “mounds” were so firm under his touch.
For yes, I will have to confess having been sinfully aroused throughout the whole wickedly hot experience.
You see it started when he was pulling off my rings.
No, actually I told a lie…
It was when he first grasped me:
The abruptness, the shock, and the surprise, quickly turned to aroused waves of tingling sexually tinged excitement at being held captive, by a thief after my jewels.
As he worked at stealing our valuables, a tingling, cringing feeling of helplessness and horror watching a masked man doing that, with the look of pleasure he had in his eyes.
Then as he pulled off my rings, well I realized I was growing even more acutely aroused in a quite “horney” role play’esque situation.
Arousal that began its stimulating flame, arising from the explosive emerging “kindling” that is one’s own erotica being played out for real when least expected.
He could see my struggle against my bonds, and he knew, the Git just instinctively knew why….
Then the prat just touched the hairs around my privates
Stroking gently, reaching deep enough inside my pussy hairs, just enough to keep me aroused, but not allowing me to come into orgasm.
My eyes were opened wide staring at his masked form hovering over me.
Then he plunged his fingers deeply inside.
My whole figure arched up, fingers tingling.
Then the stinking prat, he pulled back. The wanker knew and stopped, just as my figure was trying to come in a full-body arching, explosive orgasm.
It was bad enough The bloody thief was stealing my jewels, but adding in robbing me clean of a chance at feeling that titular flame of orgasmic stimulation as I had closed my eyes starting to wince with excitement, that was just bloody rude.
^^^^^^
Then he was done, all back to business, as he nimbly rose, then picking up his gloves said the chilling words as he put them back on….
“Do the other rich dame’s bedrooms have things this nice, as I was told. No answer eh? Well, we will see for me self now won’t I!”
He picked back up his torch, letting the beam play down the long chocolate-silken night gown I was wearing over my naked figure.
He nodded his head in disbelieving approval.
Turning it off, he pocketed the torch, then reaching down he rolled up my satin robe with our valuables in it.
Picking up a black backpack he purred…
“The lads that were following you birds around last night, they put me onto this job saying to just to snatch the shiny jewels you and your girlfriends wearing out this evening. But lady you have enough here I could make a bit extra for me self!”
He stuffed the chocolate satin robe inside his jogger's pack. Followed by cramming in my black gown with the broach.
Then lifting my mink he said
But I better see how much of the good stuff your lady friends have in their rooms first. But I’ll take this item in case I have the storage space.”
Extinguishing his torch, He started to walk out, then looked back at me and came to my bedside.
“And don’t worry about this”
he said touching my now still prickly, damp crotch.
"Your not the first broad I’ve tied up to rob whose felt this way, now we’re you!?”
Snickering, he confidently opened the door, slipping without a look back
He was now in the living room where the others were all sleeping!
^^^^
That night thief thoroughly cleaned us out of all our jewels and various other items of high value we had in our bedrooms.
Though it was a very nasty thing to have happened to all of us. I did feel a wee bit guilty.
For to tell the truth, since I had been erotically aroused by the entire incident that occurred in my bedroom under the thief’s hands whole robbing me, I didn’t quite feel as sad about it as my equally jewel-relieved girlfriends.
Fini
Hanging on my bedpost... I need all the help I can get... ;-)
MACRO MONDAYS Flickr Group: www.flickr.com/groups/macromonday/
HMM!!!
Nikon D7100 + Tokina 100mm f/2.8 FX Macro Lens (AT-X M100 AF PRO D AF 100mm f/2.8)
+ Nikon Speedlight SB-700 Flash fitted with mini-softbox
f/11 @ 1/60 @ iso 200
(tweaked in Smart Photo Editor)
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Artist
Edward Hopper (1882-1967)
Title
A Woman in the Sun
Date
1961
As Edward Hopper matured he left more and more visual detail out of his paintings and focused on the psychological reality of his subjects. In A Woman in the Sun, a nude female stands in a shaft of raking light from a nearby window. The room has been reduced to its simplest architectural components. The few judicious details that remain—a pair of black pumps, the turned wood bedposts, and the vaguely delineated painting on the wall—only accentuate the barrenness of the scene and the figure. The voyeuristic, almost cinematic setting suggests a narrative, enticing the viewer to imagine the events that may have occurred prior to the scene we now view, and what will happen next. Hopper’s wife, Josephine Nivison Hopper, served as the model for this figure as she did for many of the women who appeared in his paintings. She was seventy-eight at the time of this painting, but Hopper transformed her, like the rest of the scene, according to his own internal vision rather than faithfully adhering to realistic detail.
The zodiac bedroom at Mount Stuart house is one of the rooms that was remodelled by the sixth marquess to allow him to use Mount Stuart as a home. The bed is his, and it is stunning, with carvings inspired by the tales of Reynard the Fox. On the bedposts are carvings of the fox playing a psaltery to lull the marquess to sleep, and on the other side is a badger with a set of bagpipes to waken him up.
Isle of Bute.
This is roughly where it all started 2009 I started posting on here this was taken a latter. I deleted my first few photos because someone I knew discovered this page when it linked to Facebook. Did I panic or what. My wife didn't even know back then. Not long after this I started going out. My look didn't improve. I thought I looked amazing. I believed it when people said I did. Looking back, I think they must have been getting me confused with someone else.
Slowly, things got better. A better wig was a big improvement. Makeup was still an issue. That didn't really improve until I came out to my partner. I could then actually practice using the darn stuff.
Well, this was the beginning. I fear I might be nearing the end.
It took me 16 years to actually accept this part of me. I was just 16 when I started thinking about a sex change. In all truth at 16, any form of sex with another person would have made a nice change. I had truly discovered myself from about aged 9 through to about 12 that's when I started to under what was wrong. So aged 16 I settled into this skin while pretending to be him. Another 16 years rolled on with dressing on and off aged 32, I was in a rut. I still wanted a change but it wasn't going to happen. Life rolled on as did I, then, after years of having an affair with myself, I came out.
That was shit I should have never done it. Things would have been so much easier now. They would have been so much easier over the past 16 years. The pain I caused by being selfish by wanting to live another lie. I lied about being him, and I lie about being her. Being stuck in no man's land, bullets flying past you from both sides just a slight step to the left or right would solve the problem the gendered round would hit hard bouncing me back to my birth biology or a the dream I held.
I often wonder if any good has come from choice. Has this journey saved others? Have i unkowing helped ease the pain of others. Set a person on the a path to joy and happiness?
Did that guy in a dress really understand the implications of his actions. I think not. I still actively try to advise people from following my path. I arm them with all the realities, knowing full well they will slide down the rabbit at great speed like a stone never gaining moss but gaining more dresses that you can shake a stick at. Then, one morning, they wake a little lighter the family jewels hidden away the return journey no longer viable. Another victim knotched on the bedpost, and the devil smiled.
And the inspiration for their journey plods on in no man's land never committing either way still shouting the warning knowing the words shall not be heard while guiding another onto the pink road.
It is strange when I think about those who have come and gone. Some so full of energy and then they stop and revert back to him. Other carry on walking until they reach that final destination. Most of us just flounder until we are taken by our maker. So many I have now witnessed dressed if fine dresses adorned in satin and lace only to make that final journey in that suite he wore for weddings and funerals even their own.
All that above said and done, I do believe my being seen publicly has helped others to live a full life. I see it in the eyes of Davina and Jo, and few other you might not know. I see it in the eyes of the lads who like our kind and get to share a moment without being made to feel like a freak themselves. Many a guy has enjoyed a kiss on the cheek from me and many a trans person and enjoyed my company on their journey. Maybe I am not doing the devil's work after all.
All that waffle from one photo. I really need to get my head checked
The Tiongco Aparador
mid-19th Century
Kamagong
H:84 1/4” x L:53” x W:24” (214 cm x 135 cm x 61 cm)
Lot 33 of the Leon Gallery auction in June 2014. See www.leon-gallery.com/ for details.
Estimate: P 2,000,000
Provenance: Tiongco Family of Sta. Rosa, Laguna
From the auction catalogue:
Kamagong (Diospyros philippinensis), a type of ebony, has always been highly prized, not only because of the hardness and beauty of its wood, but also because of its rarity. Several varieties, like the mabolo (Diospyros blancoi) with its black heartwood and the bulong aeta with pinkish streaks running through the black wood, are found in the Philippines.
Kamagong was ideal for making carved furniture, since the density of its grain enabled the carvings to be made as crisp and thin as possible. Its hardness, however, made it very difficult to work with and required frequent sharpening of plane blades and chisels. This made its production time-consuming and thus more expensive. Furthermore, artisans did not enjoy working with it,
as the fine sawdust not only irritated the eyes, but also went into the pores of the skin and made it very itchy.
This 2-door aparador belongs to the Tiongcos, one of the most prominent families of Sta. Rosa, Laguna who own several impressive bahay-na bato within the town. This piece comes from one of their houses and is exceptional because of the elaborate ornate carvings that decorate the doors, frieze and crest of the piece.
Console feet carved with an acanthus scroll jut out from the chamfered corners and are joined by a pierced apron carved with a meandering foliate design. The base of the cabinet supports a wide drawer carved with three joined lozenges outlined in line molding, the two outer ones each a cast iron drawer pull. Jutting out on either side of the drawer is a colonette base decorated with carved foliage on the front and the sides. Unique and unusual column shafts from one piece of wood flank the doors. From their turned circular base, four round bars spiral upward independent of each other to meet at the neck of an attenuated Corinthian capital. The whole is an intricate and masterful oeuvre probably inspired by similar work done on Chinese ivory puzzles.
The three interior shelves with two small drawers beneath the middle shelf are covered by two framed paneled doors with arced tops. The door panels are carved with a polygonal reserve with the outer portions carved with meandering vines of grapes and
leaves. The arced cornice above the doors is appliqued with a carved frieze featuring a cross within a beaded circle within a laurel wreath. Pierced, symmetrical carving of fruiting grape vines flank each side and a rosette decorates each end of the frieze. The crest is surmounted by a corona imperial with fluttering ribbons beneath. Symmetrical pierced, foliate scrolls flank the
crown and become smaller as they flow gracefully downward to the corner of the frontispiece. These unusual colonettes were used as architectural decoration in some very rich 19th century houses in San Pablo, Laguna, where they served as columnillas of windows or to decorate grand portals of large salas. This is the only known example of it being used on a full-sized aparador. A bed from Calaca, Batangas (in an important private collection) also made use of such a
column as a bedpost, but it and this aparador are the only known pieces of furniture in the country that feature them.