You almost never see cigarette burns on Web torture sites, or S/M magazines, or videos, or anywhere. Candle wax, yes. Burns, no.
Here's one site that shows cigarette burns, but it's as stupid as most porn. Not erotic at all.
Wax is messy and not much fun. Once you get it on you, it's a lot of trouble to get it off. It can only be done once in a session.
Cigarette burns can go on and on. The downside is that burns may leave scars. But it's worth it. Actually burns may or may not leave scars. It depends on how long you hold the cigarettes in place. A light touch won't leave scars.
Cigarette burns are almost as intense as electrical shocks. Actually they are just as intense, in their own way. Two cigarettes, one on each breast -- that's essential, I always do both tits at the same time. Cigarettes can be applied lightly at first. All around the breasts, especially the underside, but not only there. A touch on the underside of the breast, then on the outside, then the top... Circles and spirals, closer and closer to the nipples, slowly, very slowly... I also like to touch the cigarettes to a spot and then drag them in a line toward the nipples. Then I concentrate on the aureoles. It takes a long time to cover them with burns. I finally arrive at the nipples themselves, just a light touch, then a longer touch, one second, two seconds...
Some light teasing burns, followed by whipping, followed by massage, more intense burns, more intense whipping, more massage...
One of my favorite things to do is to clip electrodes to the underside of the breasts, a couple of inches below the nipples. That leaves the aureoles and the nipples themselves exposed for the cigarettes.
If you hold the cigarettes in place longer, it gets even more intense. If you put them right on the nipples, and hold them there, it takes you into a space that can't be reached any other way, not even with electricity. This is something to be reserved for very special occasions. I've only done it a few times. Usually the climax of a session is to clip the electrodes onto the nipples. Or, just leave the electrodes on the undersides of her tits, and rub her nipples until she has an orgasm.
I don't even smoke cigarettes, except during torture sessions. In fact I despise cigarettes. Always have. But that's not a big issue. When I'm torturing a girl's tits, I don't notice the smoke. Neither does she. That's the last thing on anybody's mind.
Other pages on this site:
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My torture pages have been here for more than six years, almost as long as the site itself. For most of that time they have just been sitting here, dormant. The following material was added in September, 2006:
Every day, I get a report from my ISP which tells me, among other things, the search terms people use to reach my site. The most popular search terms are tit torture, breast torture, and nipple torture. I get thousands of those. The interesting ones are more specific. There are many variations. Such as:
Nipple torture with cigarettes, erotic nipple torture, quivering breasts, breast whipping, electrical tit torture, electricity interrogation nipples, erotic dungeon torture, strapped in chair torture, electrical nipple torture, burning breasts with cigarettes, cigarette burns on nipples, erotic nipple burning...
I have no way of knowing who my visitors are. I would assume that most of them are men, but that may not be true. I know some of my visitors are women, because I also get search terms like this:
torture my tits, burn my tits, burn my nipples, whip my tits harder, self torture of tits, torturing my tits with electricity...
Only a woman would talk about "my tits." There are some women who crave torture. They dream about torture. Their tits are the center of their erotic universe, and no stimulation is too intense. Foreplay, the way most men do it, is BORING. These girls burn their own nipples (not necessarily with cigarettes - there are many other ways). They were already doing it before they heard there was such a thing as an S/M scene. I was like that too. Nobody had to tell me about it. I always knew what I wanted to do. In fact I don't consider myself part of a scene. The whole fetish thing is irrelevant to what I do. So is pornography.
As far as I am concerned, this is tantra. Breast tantra. This is what used to happen in ashrams, convents, and real dungeons.
Most of the girls who torture themselves never find a man to do it with. Very few men know anything about it. Most men flunked Foreplay 101, never mind the more advanced stuff. That's why tit torture is usually a girl-girl thing. One interesting search term I got was "girls torturing girls with cigarettes." Girls understand each other. They know what hurts good.
It's not hard to find a man to beat you up, but what if that's not what you want? What if you want a man who will tie you up and make you fly? --link removed--
In another part of the site, I said going to a 915 meeting should be like crossing a threshold and leaving America behind, on many levels, and entering another space, a magical space. More precisely, in this context, a tantric space.
I have always kept this part of the site separate from the rest of it. There are no longer any links from the rest of the site to the torture pages. At some point I am going to have to put it all together.
As a first step, here is a link to my home page. At the top of the page, I said I no longer consider myself to be a transhumanist. That's not the subculture I want to be associated with. I am tired of addressing myself to atheists and humanists, trans or otherwise. I want to rewrite the whole site from a different starting point. If I made tantra my starting point, a lot of things would fall into place.
And then near the bottom of my home page, I said I am probably weakening myself by trying to maintain a respectable persona.
Putting a link back in the other direction, from the home page to here, would blow away whatever credibility I have in academia. (Not much.) Going farther, and making this the home page, would require turning myself inside out. But why not? What do I have to lose, after all? This is who I am. Not a conventional scientist but what they call a "mad scientist," a magus. If that's who I am, then that is how I should present myself. That should be my persona.
I'm not sure credibility needs to be an issue. If people think I'm a weirdo, fuck them. I have my own life to live. Nobody cares what Keynes and Wittgenstein did in their private lives. Keynes was a member of the Bloomsbury group. They flaunted their unconventional lifestyles. People took Keynes seriously because they had to. He had something to say that could not be safely ignored. In the long run, ideas stand on their own merits.
In the right hands, sexual torture is black magic. It is real magic with real power.
The power does not come automatically. Gerard Titsman, for example, fritters it away. What he does is pornography, not art. It's very, very good porn, so good that sometimes it's almost art, but he never quite crosses the line. Even at its best it's still porn. It's not Dostoyevsky, it's Hefner. Instead of setting forces in motion, the only result is a short circuit (masturbation).
My torture pages are similar to Gerard's videos. I'm not making art either. I am dissipating my power. I guess that's one reason I stopped doing it. This time I want to do it right.
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September 26, 2006
Since most of my visitors enter the site through the torture pages, I guess this page already is the de facto home page, and I might as well treat it as such. There is no reason why this could not be the gateway to the rest of the site. If that involves turning myself inside out, so be it.
Today I finished Did Monetary Forces Cause the Great Depression? - typical light reading around here - and I think that is a good stopping point. It's time to put the books away and do something else. Clear all the junk out of here and make this into a magical space. A transformative space.
If you have explored the rest of the site, you know that today is a special day. This is the anniversary of the breakthrough in 1982. I wondered if something special would happen.
This afternoon I saw my neighbor Amy and her husband. They have a new band, The Meek. They have been performing for a couple of months now, but I still had not seen them. They said they were performing tonight at the New Beverly Cinema, following a screening of a movie about Daniel Johnston. I had never heard of him, but I thought this would be a good chance to see Amy perform.
It was hard to sit through the movie. I never saw such a bunch of fucking losers in my life. Daniel, it turns out, is a drooling idiot from the state hospital. He reminds me of Alfred E. Newman, especially in the scenes showing him as a young man. When Mad Magazine created their Alfred E. Newman caricature, he was supposed to be a joke, an object of ridicule. Daniel Johnston is supposed to be a "legendary artist." Incoherent scribbles from an insane asylum are supposed to be "art," and people actually buy it. He won the "Best Songwriter" award in Austin back in the 1980s. This is exactly the kind of spiritual madness I was talking about on the 915 page. (The original 915 concept was, in simple terms, "pro-white and pro-pot," but there is more to it than that.)
Insanity is the ugliest thing there is. His scribbles are not art. This is not a matter of taste or opinion, it's a fact. Contrary to what the emcee told us tonight, most artists are not insane. Michaelangelo wasn't. Goethe wasn't. Bach wasn't. Leonardo da Vinci, Rembrandt, Handel, Mozart, Schubert, Henry James... essentially all of the great artists were sane. The idea that artists have to be insane is absolute horseshit. Those few that are insane are artists in spite of their insanity, not because of it.
Incoherence has become the biggest cliché in modern art. In the 20th century, especially the late 20th century, the basic cultural principle was: Don't collect your thoughts. As the Talking Heads would say, "Stop making sense." In the 21st century, a real avant-garde artist would go as far as possible in the opposite direction.
Prior to Nietzsche, it would not have occurred to anyone to say it's all right for an artist (or anybody) to be insane. Prior to the 20th century, it would not have occurred to anyone to say that Daniel Johnston is an artist at all. As I sat there in the theater, I kept wondering: What the fuck am I doing here? What am I doing on this planet? And why is this happening today, of all days?
September 27
Yesterday turned out to be a good day after all. It was a turning point. During the show, I wondered what I was doing there, but now that it's over, this is the thought that stays with me: If this piece of shit can get up there and perform, so can I. If he has a right to be heard, so do I.
What I do is a million times more powerful than what he does. It's just a matter of figuring out how to tap into that power. The first step is to convince myself that it's all right to do it.
I am not going to put my books away. Not permanently. The fact that I read dense academic books as easily as Daniel Johnston reads comics is part of who I am too, just as much as torture. Most of the time it's more important. Daniel's fans think it's cool to be a drooling idiot. As far as I am concerned, it's cool to be smart. In fact it might be said that that's an essential part of the "magic." Without that, erotic torture is just perversion, with no power.
I'm winging it here. I don't know where I'm going with this. I have never really combined this page with the home page in my own mind. I know that I am weakening myself, cutting the ground out from under my feet, by keeping this page separate from the rest of what I do. But I don't know how to combine them.
I am not the only one who has this problem. The same thing applies to my readers.
Would you want your boss/spouse/parents/children/neighbors to know what you are doing right now? Probably not. This doesn't fit into the rest of your life. And yet it does, somehow. The fact that you look at torture sites is part of who you are, like it or not.
September 28
I am cutting the ground out from under my feet either way, whether I connect these pages with the rest of the site or not. My torture pages invite questions such as: Who am I to complain about Daniel Johnston? Isn't tit torture part of the same decadence? If burning nipples isn't spiritual madness, what is?
I have asked myself such questions many times, without arriving at a satisfactory answer. That's one reason I have always kept these pages separate from the rest of the site. But I am just going to trust myself. Yes, I burn breasts, and yes, I detest the kind of insanity I saw the other night. I know it appears to be a contradiction. Maybe it is and maybe it isn't.
I have believed for a long time that torture is basically not a good idea, unless you think of it as a step on the way to something else. Sometimes I think of it as a monkey on my back. On more than one occasion I have thrown away transformers and entire collections of pictures.
W. H. Auden said "Art is clear thinking about mixed feelings." Many of the pages on this site are an attempt to think clearly about subjects about which I have deeply mixed feelings. On the Amanda page, I said
For those who arrived here from Ministry of Illusion, or from the Ilsa page, I should point out that the leader of the S/M scene, the leader above Scappini, is Bernhard Mueller, a Jew (although he denies it, of course) who is a Captain in the German army; and this whole group is part of the plot to assassinate Hitler. So things are not quite as they seem.
My life is like that too. Everybody's life is like that, whether they know it or not.
It may not be true that everybody's life is like that. Some people are too shallow to be concerned with such complications. I should say everybody who counts is like that.
It's past midnight now... time for hard truths. I think I have something to learn from Daniel Johnston. Maybe he is an artist after all. He never worried about being on the wrong planet. That is one of the ways I have sabotaged myself. He didn't care if anybody agreed with him, or if he fit in. He was just himself. He did what he did. If they locked him up, they locked him up. Too bad. He was out there, no matter what. I respect that. I don't respect anything else about him, but I do respect that. It takes a lot of courage to be the only one who says the green pencil is longer.
It may be true that what I do is a million times more powerful than what he does. It may be true that "The Devil in Lyle Burkhead" would blow away "The Devil in Daniel Johnston," but his movie is out there and mine isn't.
Tonight I added a link from the home page to this page. The deed is done. I have crossed the Rubicon.
September 30
When I first got involved in torture, I had no context for it. It was just a sexual thing. That was what turned me on, so that's what I did.
About 1990, I started incorporating torture into a four-star ritual, and that continued for the rest of the 1990's.
I visit the Rigorous Intuition blog from time to time. At its best it's very, very good. One problem with it is that the host, Jeff Wells, is a true believer in the Big Lie, so his whole discussion is based on a false premise. On a good day Jeff gets to the heart of what's really going on, better than just about anybody, but on a bad day he can be depressingly PC and clueless. [Note added in 2008 - since I wrote this page, he has lost the thread. But his earlier posts were good.] Anyway here are some of his comments about magic. The context for this is the killing of Jean Charles de Menezes, who was shot by London police in a subway, supposedly because he was an Arab terrorist. It turned out he wasn't an Arab at all, he was Brazilian, and was entirely innocent. It now appears that they knew that. He was a more or less random victim. Why then did they kill him? This is what Jeff says:
The Order of Nine Angles' A Gift for the Prince states that "human sacrifice is powerful magick":
[quote from The Order of Nine Angles] The ritual death of an individual does two things: it releases energy (which can be directed, or stored - for example in a crystal) and it draws down dark forces or "entities." Such forces may then be used, by directing them toward a specific goal, or they may be allowed to disperse over the Earth in a natural way, such dispersal altering what is sometimes known as the "astral shell" around the Earth. This alteration, by the nature of sacrifice, is disruptive - that is, it tends toward Chaos. This is simply another way of saying that human sacrifice furthers the work of Satan...
[back to Jeff] I haven't forgotten Jean Charles de Menezes. Nor that a motive to his killing, if there is one, most probably resides in a place that would seem to us like madness.
Perhaps sometimes, the occult elite's horrification of their dumb, useless eaters doesn't require the elegance of programmed assassins and useful idiots. Perhaps sometimes, it's as simple as walking up to a man and shooting him seven times in the head. Because random acts of violence are now public policy. And what energies are released by that? Which dark entities are drawn down?
The same thing applies to Abu Ghraib.
When I tied Leslie up and burned her breasts, and clipped electrodes onto her nipples, as part of a four-star ritual, what energies did I draw down? At the time I didn't think of it in those terms. I was still compulsively doing what I was driven to do. I'm older now, and maybe wiser. I hope so. At least I have more perspective. When I start doing this again, it will be done more deliberately, with a definite intention and awareness of what I am doing.
Leslie, by the way, was Leslie Graves. She was my favorite pin-up girl in the 1980's. When I met her in 1989, I had been thinking about torturing her tits for nine years. Unfortunately (or fortunately, for her) I never met my other favorite pinup, Marilyn Lange. She's too old for this now, but there is a new generation of Marilyn's, and one of them is going to find her way to this page. Or maybe I will just meet her somewhere, "by accident," like I met Leslie. One way or another we will find each other.
When torture is done in public, it can release enormous energy. Consider The Passion of the Christ. That movie made $750 million, first of all, which is a pretty good piece of change, but beyond that it was a cultural earthquake. But it is just a faint echo of the original on which it is based. I am beginning to understand the idea of sacrifice, and why Jesus had to die as he did. The crucifixion was black magic.
What effect did the crucifixion have? Did did it draw down dark entities? Did these entities disperse over the earth and alter the "astral shell" in a disruptive way, and further the work of Satan, as the Order of Nine Angles says?
Or what?
Is that the right way to frame the question? Is that the right context?
What if Jesus had been a woman? Would her crucifixion have had the same effect?
One explanation for Daniel Johnston is that the church he grew up in, a fundamentalist church in a small town in the Bible Belt, is a quarter of an inch deep. There is nothing magical about it. Those people want magic to be illegal. They have no concept of Christian philosophy or Christian art. They are not supposed to think about what the crucifixion means, or what anything means. NOT THINKING is the whole point of their church. "Stop making sense." That's why Daniel is who he is. Dumbed down religion and dumbed down art go together.
October 2
And now, here's what you have all been waiting for - a video of Leslie on the rack. Put your headphones on before clicking on the link.
Real torture, real tears, real screams... Brace yourself... You may not be ready for this.
October 8, 2006
I hope everybody enjoyed that. Anybody who is just here to look at porn can leave now, if they haven't already.
I can tell from the log files that out of 100 people who come to this page, only a few click through to the pictures of Leslie and Marilyn. The others lose interest before they get this far down the page. So at this point I am not addressing the audience I started with at the top of the page. Men buy Playboy to look at the pictures, but then once they have the magazine, some of them may read an article or interview. My torture pages work the same way. They are the centerfold of the site. They draw people in.
However, that's not why I put them here. These pages are part of the site because they are part of me, just like the centerfold is part of Hugh Hefner's life, and the question remains, how on earth can these pages be made to fit into the rest of what I do? And if they don't fit, which one do I have to give up?
When I wrote the main part of this site, I was in "let's make a better world" mode.
Q. What's wrong with the world? A: It doesn't have enough torture in it.
Um, no... If the idea of a better world is construed in any reasonable way, obviously it doesn't include torture. If we are trying to create a better life for ourselves, torture is one of the things we want to get rid of.
But there is another theme in my life that has pretty deep roots: It doesn't matter what happens.
There is no such thing as improving the world. The world is the unchanging background against which we live our lives. The more we let it distract us, the less alive we are. Mozart was fully alive when he composed "Ave Verum Corpus," and Isabelle was fully alive when she lost herself in the feeling of the whip across her breasts in "Hard Exercises." They weren't thinking about having an effect on the world.
This is one of those things about which I have deeply mixed feelings. If you don't try to improve the world, you end up with India or Argentina. Are yogis fully alive when they tune everything out and go into a deep trance? Maybe they are. But India is a huge slum.
What about Argentina? Are cops fully alive when they torture prisoners? Maybe they are. Motorhead says, "The answer to life's mystery is simple and direct - sex and death." When you crush the life out of someone, that could be considered the ultimate fuck. It's fucking in the service of death instead of life, but it is still an absolute fuck, and it turns me on to think about it. I have no interest in "safe and sane" B&D games, where nice politically correct persons talk about exhanging power. That makes me want to throw up. Torture is only fun if you get as close as possible to the real thing, and fantasize about crossing the line.
So why don't I go ahead and do it? When I was younger I thought about going to a country where torture is common, and signing up as a torturer. Maybe I should have. At the time my excuse was that I had more important things to do. True enough, but I should have taken a few years off and done it. In the old days, when men fought with swords, a young man was "fleshed" when he had drawn blood in his first real swordfight. I have never tortured anybody for real, so I am not fleshed as a torturer. I should be. I could still do it - I could go to Iraq right now (except for the fact that I am on the no-fly list) - but, as always, I have more important things to do. Besides, crossing the line in fantasy is all I really need to do. Actually torturing somebody, torturing them to death, would not add anything to what I have already done.
Or would it?
In the long run, the human race will go the way of the dinosaurs, and it truly doesn't matter what happens.
Or does it?
Anybody can have mixed feelings. Clear thinking about mixed feelings is a lot more difficult.
October 9
When I got up this morning, I was tempted to erase what I wrote last night, but I think I am going to leave it there. At least I knew I was not thinking clearly. (Vodka tends to have that effect.)
Let's go back to the question, are cops who torture prisoners fully alive? No, of course not. They are dirtballs, and what they do is not absolute fucking, it is a substitute for fucking. It is another kind of short circuit.
What they do is not transformative, neither for themselves nor for their victims. There is no magic in it.
One South American cop said "Our goal is to totally destroy the sense of trust at all levels." You can't do that to other people without destroying yourself at the same time.
As for making a better world, I hate to give up on that idea, but I don't think any such thing is going to happen. Society is going to continue changing, but not by my efforts. My actions will have effects, but the effects are unpredictable and may be the opposite of what I intended, so there is no use worrying about it. The general direction of change seems to be towards disconnection and disintegration. We are in the end times, and the whole world is going to be more and more like the state hospital. Maybe in that sense Daniel Johnston is prophetic.
The question is not how to change the world, but how to change myself. Vivekananda said "The best guide in life is strength. In religion as in all other matters, discard everything that weakens you, have nothing to do with it."
October 10
No, Daniel Johnston is a symptom, not a prophet. Yeats was the prophet:
"Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold..."
October 11
Maybe I'm getting a little bit tooooo seeerrrious about all this.
Yes, everything is coming unglued... it's so sad! So tragic! The world has been falling apart for quite some time now, and the poor old thing will probably continue to lurch along for at least a few more years before The End finally comes. Meanwhile, as the saying goes, girls just want to have fun, and some of them have a pretty weird idea of fun.
If they don't have such weird ideas, that's all right too.
I'll bet a new Marilyn is right here in my neighborhood, and as soon as my intention is focused, she will appear.
October 12
In fact I did meet somebody recently. She is a long way from Marilyn - she is not Playmate of the Year material - but that's all right. I think she's cute, and sparks are flying. I haven't asked her if she wants to be tied up, and I'm not sure I care. Maybe I have finally outgrown torture, and my torture pages are no longer relevant. Been there, done that... I have spent most of my life doing that. I don't have to spend the rest of my life doing the same thing. Maybe M., my new love interest - her name isn't Marilyn but it does start with M - will be the one who helps me move on to something else.
Maybe.
These musings should not be taken too seriously. Eventually I want to remove all of this backstage stuff from the site, and just say what I have to say without any reference to mixed feelings. I am not ready for that. At this point I am still trying to get things sorted out. I have more questions than answers.
October 25, 2006
What the fuck, of course I have mixed feelings. How could I not? Anybody who doesn't have mixed feelings about this subject must be an idiot.
Today a new letter from Ernst Zundel to his wife was published. He says:
Ingrid, they will apologize! They will do it publicly. They will publish it, and they will pay me and you millions of dollars in compensation. How do I know? Ingrid, Bush and Cheney will be lucky, very lucky if they get to serve out the rest of their terms in office. We are close to an upheaval of horrific proportions that will change the political landscape drastically. Nothing will be as it has been up to now.
What role could I possibly play in this upheaval? Here is where lack of credibility really bites. It's hard to sit on the sidelines at a time like this. At my age, with all the reading I have done, and with my dynamism, I should be leading the way. But I have a skeleton in my closet that makes it impossible for me to play a role in public life.
In a letter to a friend Zundel said this:
Ingrid always told me that the real crunch for the dysfunctional political elite in America would come when their sexual deviations... would come to light.
I left out part of his statement because if I put it here the search engines will pick it up and that will draw the wrong kind of traffic to this site. He is referring to something that I am not interested in. Nevertheless the same principle applies: when any kind of sexual deviation comes to light, it destroys somebody's career.
...Depending on what kind of career it is. The "Some Girls" album didn't hurt Mick Jagger's career. What I have to do is position myself so that it doesn't matter. I can have a role in public life, and the fact that I torture tits can add to my charisma. It's just a question of inventing the right kind of role. As I said on my home page, I would have more juice if I did this as openly as Gerard does.
I'm not interested in a political career anyway, even if that were a real possibility for me. I do have a role in public life, but not that kind of role. My gas chamber page passed the 50,000 mark last winter, and at the rate things are going it will have been read 100,000 times by the end of next year. That has got to be having an effect. That's probably all I need to do about politics. I have already made my contribution to the upheaval.
It's not clear to me that the political landscape is really going to change, at least not in any fundamental way. There may be an upheaval which appears to be drastic, but it will turn out to be superficial. As I said on the home page, if there is a revolution it will come to a bad end. It may be true that Bush and Cheney won't serve out their terms, but then what? Who will replace them? What about 2008? What needs to be said is that 911 was a hoax, and anybody who voted to abolish habeas corpus should be prosecuted for treason. If we get to the point where somebody can stand up and say that and still be a serious candidate, it will truly be a different political landscape.
I wish I could share Zundel's optimism, but I just can't. I think the next President, and the next one after that, will still report to TPTB, the same power that put Zundel in prison, the same power that controls the mainstream media. I think the political landscape, like everything else, is just going to go from bad to worse.
Maybe I'm getting too serious again, but the one percent who read this far should be able to handle it. To review some points from the home page and other pages:
1. The Singularity is approaching, but it isn't going to be the kind of event predicted by Vernor Vinge, Eric Drexler, and Ray Kurzweil. Their philosophy isn't deep enough to conceive it, let alone make it happen.
2. As we approach the end, there is going to be a general breakdown that could fairly be described as the Tribulation, but it isn't going to be the kind of Tribulation predicted by the evangelists, and the outcome isn't going to be what they expect. A dumbed-down religion can only imagine a dumbed-down apocalypse.
3. All the old ideologies and religions are obsolete (some more than others). There is no use trying to make the future fit into any of the old myths. Some of them may seem to be relevant, but they are only relevant by accident, like a broken clock that is right twice a day.
4. The transhuman metamorphosis won't be a general event that happens to everybody at once. Somebody will get there first. In other words, if you think of this as a race, somebody will win. It will be somebody who has the best model of reality on all levels, including, specifically, a correct philosophy of mind. A correct philosophy of mind requires a correct understanding of logic, semantics, metaphysics, and epistemology. Thus, for the first time, we have an objective criterion of philosophical truth: the correct philosophy is the one that leads to the metamorphosis.
That's the only role I really want - I want to be the one who gets there first. Or, simply, the one who gets there. The question, then, is how sexual torture fits into this plan. A correct philosophy has to take sexuality into account, which western philosophy generally doesn't. When I wrote the paragraph quoted as point #4, I was still thinking of philosophers such as Frege and Wittgenstein (my mentors as a student). That kind of philosophy has nothing to say about sex, or music, or any kind of art; or prana, Qi and Kundalini. Not to mention torture.
November 10, 2006
The contradiction that just won't go away
I am trying to go back to my roots. When I was a young man, I lived in a house with some radical hippies. We had a totally natural kitchen. A juicer to make carrot juice (lots of it), herbs and spices, vegetables from the farmer's market, fresh pineapple and coconut, honey still in the honeycomb... I will always remember the smell and the vibes of that kitchen. Of course there were no cigarettes, no coffee, and no TV. When you entered that house - the yellow house in the 300 block of Kipling Street in Palo Alto, long since torn down and replaced - you crossed a threshold and left America behind.
But meanwhile I had just bought my first transformer, and there were things going on in my bedroom that my housemates had no concept of.
That house was not the tantric space I want to create, and neither was my bedroom. I am not going to have my tantric space until I find a way to combine the bedroom with the rest of the house.
A few years later I bought Spiritual Midwifery by Ina May Gaskin. I thought it was very, very, cool, and I still think so. This is the way life should be. This is the way life would have been in the Third Reich, if they had not destroyed it before it could come into full existence. As one Amazon reviewer said,
Whether having your baby at home or in a hospital, this book is of tremendous value. Ina May is the woman! She wrote this book in the 70's on a hippie commune so the language reflects that time and place. I laughed at her reference to contractions as rushes during my first pregnancy until I started actually having contractions. Feeling them as "rushes" instead of contractions helped me to manage the energy and pain. I realized the psychology behind her terminology. In reading this book, I felt empowered to have my babies without drugs - knowing my body would know what to do. I am endlessly grateful to Ina May for this classic book!!
But even at the time, of course, I couldn't look at the pictures in the book without thinking about torturing the girls' tits. I gave the book to Leslie when she was pregnant, and never saw it again. I guess she threw it away. She was anything but a hippie. She was the last person who could relate to the idea of childbirth without painkilling drugs. She couldn't even get through an ordinary day without opiates. She died of an overdose in 1995.
If you look at the Inquisition site, which I have linked to a couple of times, you find that many of the victims are midwives and healers, exactly like Ina May and the women described in Spiritual Midwifery. The Inquisition site shows an earlier version of narcs versus hippies. There are many things I am uncertain about, but one thing I am absolutely sure of is that the midwives are right and the narcs are pieces of shit. Why then does the Inquisition site turn me on?
The fact that I have spent half of my life on the dark side is an irrevocable part of who I am. The fact that I am grounded in torture and death, the fact that I can look at anything without flinching, is what gives me my power. But at the end of the day, when one side becomes real and the other doesn't, the narcs will fade away into the shadows, into the outer darkness. We will live in a world of natural childbirth, and mechanical hospitals and interrogation rooms will just be a bad dream.
December 7, 2006
All right, but in our finite lives, the end of the day never comes, and we are stuck with our dreams, good and bad. The fact remains that I can't relate to people who are too wholesome. A couple of years ago I went to a Pilates class. The teacher is not bad looking, and of course she is in superb shape. She is also single. It never occurred to me to see her after class. She is just too sweet.
"Four Lives of Cindy," starring Cindy Prince, is one of the all-time classic s/m movies. On an erotic level it can't compare with some of Gerard's videos (described on the electrotorture page), but his videos are porn and "Four Lives" is real art. Cindy goes to a therapist to get treatment for her dreams. She describes dream after dream in which she is in some situation in the distant past, hundreds or thousands of years ago, and she always finds herself being tortured. The dreams are actually memories of past lives. At the end it turns out the whole therapy thing is a ruse. The "therapist" himself is the same man she has seen in her dreams, and he tortures her. There is no escape.
She doesn't want to escape. She smiles when he clips electrodes onto her nipples and cranks up the voltage.
She does this in real life, too.
If you believe, or half believe, in reincarnation, you have to ask some hard questions. First of all, are we always male or always female? Or do we go back and forth? Second, do we always play the same role, or do we go back and forth from torturer to victim? Cindy was always the victim in her dreams, but I doubt if that's how it works.
Another hard question is this. People who believe in reincarnation usually say that we draw things to us. Our thoughts become reality. Well, if you look at the generation just before the Burning Times began, or the year before, or the night before, what were the witches thinking? What dark thoughts created that awful reality? Maybe they were sated with sweetness, and they wanted more harshness. At least they thought they did. Be careful what you wish for. It's a nonlinear system. In other words the effect is not proportional to the cause.
I don't believe in reincarnation or any such thing. Beliefs are for New Age airheads. I don't believe in reincarnation any more than T. S. Eliot believed in the Rapture. Buddha might put it this way: if you pay very close attention to your experience, you may notice reincarnationish things, but that doesn't mean you should make it into a belief system. Just keep paying attention. If you focus down hard enough, you may be able to choose different dreams, or even step off the wheel altogether, if you want to.
More precisely, you can step off the wheel if you decide to stop wanting, once and for all.
Even that isn't quite right, because you have to stop deciding and just let it all go.
One afternoon in the fall of 1982, in the aftermath of the Breakthrough, there was a moment when I could have stepped off the wheel... but I didn't. I'm still here. Tell me more about your dreams, Cindy...
Das Ewigweiblishe zieht uns hinan.
December 15, 2006
In case anybody didn't get that, it's the last line of Faust, or actually the last two lines. It means "The eternal feminine draws us on."
Going back to something I said on October 8, "If we are trying to create a better life for ourselves, torture is one of the things we want to get rid of." That's obvious, isn't it? Or is it? Buddha would say there is no such thing as a better life. As long as you're on the wheel, you're on it. Period. It doesn't matter what kind of life you have, you are still "suffering," in the Buddhist sense. You may be in an iron cage or a golden cage, but you are in a cage either way.
I think that's bullshit. Of course, it's better to be in a golden cage.
There is such a thing as improving the world. A better life is one in which we throw off the constraints that prevent us from living life to the max. A better life may or may not include erotic torture, but it doesn't include police torture or inquisition torture. A better life is one in which we think about that to arouse ourselves, and then segue into real fucking.
This is how it's supposed to work:
Whatever the antecedents to an orgasm that is better than others, the final common pathway is the same. The two lovers are able to experience a feeling of unrestrained and untamed abandonment to one another. It is not necessary for them to pay attention either to what the self is doing or what the partner is doing. All the movements take care of themselves, as if reflexively. The sensations greedily absorbed by the vulva, externally and through deep interior pressure, tell the vaginal cavity how to selfishly pulsate, ripple, quiver, and contract on the penis, in order to release itself in orgasm. Reciprocally, the penis selfishly probes and presses, twists a little, withdraws and tantalizes at the portals, and sinks deeply again, it too greedily building up its own orgasmic pleasure. The two bodies writhe, unheedingly. The two minds drift into the oblivion of attending only to their own feeling, so perfectly synchronized that the ecstasy of the one is preordained to be the reciprocal ecstacy of the other. Two minds, mindlessly lost in one another. This is the perfect orgasmic experience. This is how an orgasm sighs, moans, exclaims, expires, exhausts itself into exultant repose.
December 28, 2006
Orgasm as described above may be the grail, but it is not accessible to me, at least not directly. Thinking about it doesn't turn me on. I can only approach it indirectly, by a long, circuitous path. For me, the path to orgasm leads through torture, and I'm not the only one.
Every day I keep getting more and more of those interesting search terms:
he tortured my breasts, cigarette on my tits, I like nipple torture, burn my nipples, whip my tits, burn my tits, torture my tits, I need my tits tortured, electrodes my breasts cry, torture her own nipples, come play with my tits, touch my tits, please hurt my tits...
THAT turns me on, and it turns them on too. Apparently there are still a lot of women who want exactly what I have to offer. There are even more than there used to be. I know what I'm going to do this coming year. It's time to rebuild my dungeon and start torturing tits again. Marilyn, I know you're out there. Come to me.
Any tits can be tortured, no matter how beautiful they are. In fact the more beautiful they are, the more torturable they are.
The most beautiful tits are going to find the most imaginative torturer. We're going to take it farther than it has ever been taken before, even beyond Gerard and Isabelle.
January 18, 2007
Now I have changed the title of this page to "torture my tits." Likewise for the other torture pages. That gets right to the point. I should have thought of that in the first place.
Men may be better at geometry and algebra, but in some ways women are smarter then men. Women see the world whole. They are grounded in a way that most men are not. They know that sex isn't just sex, it's connected to everything else.
And sexual torture is connected to everything else. It's connected to God. But how?
Separation of the sexes, and the resulting sexual tension, have been part of Christianity from day one. St. Paul said, "It is good for a man not to touch a woman." This was a new idea at the time. Jews were supposed to get married and have children - "Be fruitful and multiply." In the Old Testament, adultery was a serious sin, but sexual pleasure per se was not a sin at all.
I have a book about Shiva. It has pictures of Indian sculpture. One of the pictures shows Shiva and Shakti, his female consort. He is feeling her up, and she is smiling, enjoying it. It would be inconceivable for a Christian sculptor to show Jesus with his hand on Mary Magdalene's tits. There are all kinds of churches, and they disagree about many things, but one thing they all have in common is that breast play is a sin. Jesus has nothing to do with breasts. Christians have always covered them up, or tortured them. Tit torture is the specifically Christian form of torture.
If the torturer makes you fly, and you are both having fun, that's a sin, which means you have to take it even farther, to punish yourself...
Jesus says "Wait a minute! It's not supposed to be fun! Breasts are evil. You have to really torture them! No fair getting off on it."
The Devil lights another pair of cigarettes, and approaches Marilyn. She thrusts her breasts out and accepts the burns with a dreamy look.
Jesus pushes the Devil aside. "No, no, no, that's not it. Don't you know how to do your job?" He picks up a whip and lashes out at Marilyn's tits. She loves it. "Jesus, are you going to fuck me when you finish?" This infuriates him even more. He picks up two branding irons from the fire, and approaches her. He moves the hot irons up close to her nipples. Then he stops. He has never been this close to nipples before. He has never seen breasts up close, let alone touched them. Marilyn holds her breasts out for him, and looks at him with a steady gaze, waiting expectantly. He is too close now, he has stepped too far out on the slippery slope, and there is no going back. Losing all control, he does touch them, the only way he can.
Slowly, hesitantly at first, he presses the hot irons onto her nipples. Discovering something in himself he didn't know was there, he does it again, forcefully, with no hesitation. He presses the branding irons into the tender undersides of her tits. He pushes them in, again and again, moving them around, covering her tits with burns. Again and again and again, with more and more force, he sticks the red hot iron into her soft flesh.
The Devil, who knows very well how Hell works, watches with amusement. He knows that Marilyn's injuries are healing even as they happen, and she will always be ready for more. She is eternal. And now Jesus himself is caught in Marilyn's spell. He too will be here, eternally.
Das Ewigweiblishe zieht uns hinan.