Well then -- the girs are out hunting, and while they return let's by and by recount the rich detail of Thursday's proceedings.
Throughout the evening it was my hope the name of the damn place (Kotelna) translates off some kind, version or flavour of the root for dog (bitch, really, ideally) as a sort of... well, you know, pivo, pivdelna, pizda, pizdelna, kutja, kotelna. No ?
Unfortunately not ; but to me it'll forever be how you say "la cage aux folles" in this... what is it even ? Is Czech a language ?
Are you sure ?
Because in all honesty it rather strikes me as the result of a crashed delivery van fulla lettercase, it reads exactly like what a 3yo'd produce out of a few hours free an' libre with an old linotype, you know the things that melted their own lead for typecase. Look here :
A a u u like in the word fun Á á a a like in the word father B b b b like in the word bat C c ts ts like in the word bits Č č ch ch like in the word chat D d d d like in the word dog Ď ď dy dy sound like 'du' in duel E e e e like in the word red É é ai ai like in the word pair Ě ě ye ye like in the word yes F f f f like in the word far G g g g like in the word gap H h h h like in the word hot CH ch ch ch like in the word loch I i i i like in the word fit Í í ee ee like in the word bee J j y y like in the word yes K k k k like in the word kit L l l l like in the word lip M m m m like in the word mat N n n n like in the word nut Ň ň ny ny sound like 'n' in onion O o o o like in the word hot Ó ó oo oo like in the word door P p p p like in the word pin R r r r like in the word rat Ř ř rž rž sound like 'rg' in bourgoisi S s s s like in the word sun Š š sh sh like in the word ship T t t t like in the word top Ť ť ty ty sound like 'tu' in tune U u u u like in the word push Ú ú oo oo like in the word fool Ů ů oo oo like in the word fool V v v v like in the word vat Y y i i like in the word bit Ý ý ee ee like in the word bee Z z z z like in the word zip Ž ž zh zh sound like 's' in treasureii Qq, Ww, Xx in foreign words only
How the fuck is this supposed to even be a language ? A special letter for /tjuː/ ?! And for /rˈʒ/ of all fucking things ?! Why the fuck, how the fuck often can this possibly occur to make it worthwhile ?! Aaand...
twothree different notations for what I presume must be /uː/ because lawd's mercy, what the fuck, can't possibly collide with the other five different ways they mark down /u/ already.
Who does things this way ?!
No fucking language has a legitimate need for 43 symbols, fucking forget about the nonsense ; and after alla that they can't even be arsed to even use w, x or q ?! What the fuck!
These poor people are stuck trying to express their lives an' their livelihoods through the broken kaleidoscope of a three year old's five minutes' amusement, shaking letterboxes cvasi-randomly about ; it'd be sad if it weren't so fucking hysterical.
But moving on, I give you teh juicy bimbo.
Needless to say everyone at the nail salon was quite excited by the occurence.
What the fuck are all the rest of you boring bitches doing all day long, seriously now ?iii
Saint Stephen, a large restaurant downtown. The food's not bad, and I suspect this is actually just one endpoint of a larger LARP-er community, I suspect they organize full scale Medieval reenactions etcetera in the summer and so on. Feel free to check it out and report, if this falls within your interests.
Oh, also they have a deal whereby you can eat for free (one kg / 2.2 lbs beef), supposedly also cooked to order, provided you a) plonk down 3k krowns deposit (about hundry-fifty in more familiar dubaloos) and b) finish it within half hour. For the record I could absolutely do that, but... eh, what need have I for free food anyways. But I guess as above -- if it floats your boat, let me know how it worked out!
This year's miss contest in the Czech Republic did way the fuck better than last year's in Costa Rica, which I very much deem the principal problem with Costa Rica : lazy, self-indulgent, short fat and very very stupid young cunts (no, nobody believes or to any degree credits your Intel-issued certs ; take it off and shake it well). There's even one or two actually passible in the line-up, I thinkiv.
Can you believe this shit ?!
Above : she's just used the little girls' room.
Below : selection of previous winners of the free steak. That the 2nd happens to be a Romanian by the name of Tavi (Octavian) Perpedea is probably going to amuse the Romanian-speaking audience.
Back at the cafe. Behind the girls (approximately where the head of the tired old woman hovers) there's a shop, and as I came over with Hannah we noticed one of the salesgirls working there -- a real hottie. Maybe nineteen or so, great deportment, nice ass, altogether delish blondy.
So I sent her over to pick her up (are you starting to confuse the "her"s ?) while I carried on, at my steady undisturbed pace, to the coffee shop. Because this is my life, do you understand me, luxury incomparable, whenever I see cunt I like I send the other cunts over to pick it up. (And yes, this is infinitely better than sending one of the herd of armed doods to compel her : even if picking up fails on occasion, I daresay that compelling never actually succeeds -- a point you're not likely equipped to contemplate, but feel free to take on credit if you wishv).
Anyway, it failed, the girly "had a lot of work to do, sorry, can't go out" etc. Which... whatever, her life -- meaning she gets to fuck it whichever way she chooses. But then Nicole came over with her fixed slipper (a strap got detached during a bout of vigorous whatever the hell it was, I forget -- fancy that wonder, vigor enough to tear Pleasers apart, no such thing is known on Planet 3), and so I was like... "hey, there's a hottie in that shop behind you, go pick her up". "What's she look like ?" "You really can't miss her."
Because indeed, there were a few other girls working there, among which a 300+lb monster, and a few other randos which nobody in a hundred years might've taken for the target, all busy at the idiotic task of mean-mugging, because totally, that'll fix your being ugly and unwanted : dedicating your time to hating those who aren't either. Herp.
Nicole also struck out, girl was similarily very busy and can't go out, but I deliberately took a different exit than the way we came in so as not to be seen all together, and now the girls in that shop have quite the something to talk about for the rest of their life, huh. That's the kinda thing I do for a mitzvah.
Above : Aren't these some impressive tits, especially for a basrelief ? It ain't low at all, what low!
Below : mechanism.
And here we are : Depo Hostivař, the edge of town, the middle of... well, not exactly nowhere. It's the middle of what no doubt was a modern industrial platform back in the 70s, mostly dead as an economic concern by the 80s, then visibly undergoing the "privatization" cycle, producing... well...
We're here because a mysterious munch ("with play possibilities") is occurring, a thing one person on Fetlife knows about and yet the organizer claims two hundred people usually attend. Isn't this something you'd check out ? So there, I'm czeching it out.
Perambulatory, portable smokestack on the right ; the fixed variant smoking on the left. Aren't I the master of composition!
They're doing the whole mysterious addresses thing, no fucking idea why old women are so naturally enamoured with this idiocy, but evidently they are seeing how it spontaneously reproduces across oceans of water and linguistic barriers composed of sheer synthetic incomprehensibility.
Anyway, it's very easy to reach, just turn right out of the metro stop and keep going straight through post-soviet industrial sadness (depicted with Hannah for counterpoint, both above and below) for a half mile or so, eventually there's a 4 on your right and a 3A on your left, which marks the spot.
Don't go as far as the thing past that, there's a very typical industrial yard at #3, and then further the ice hockey club's junior practice hall (which we originally thought must be it, on the grounds of... derpy fat dudes swarming like bumblebees at the entrance in the otherwise entirely deserted miles upon miles of abandoned concrete ; but then there were lots and lots of ten year old boys, a pile of shoes and socks, actual hockey sticks... it just didn't jive, what).
The place itself is easily the largest (owned) space for a munch I ever saw, a rectangular surface maybe 500 sqm or so, I've seen mall food courts smaller. It's covered in seating, maybe a half dozen or so leather couches, comfortable, seating 3-4, and a bunch of armchairs ; otherwise there's wooden chairs along knights' hall style tables, place can indeed seat just about a hundred or two. There's also ample space outside (where smoking occurs), similar scheme, prolly seating another fifty to a hundred or thereabouts. There's even a sauna (that's only open Mon-Tue-Thurs or somesuch, though it wasn't open this time ; not that I'd sauna with BDSM-amateur & fashionista randoms, god help me).
The major problem with this place... how shall I put it. The munch was scheduled for 5pm, that was the announced time ; when pressed upon the matter the organizer explained that well... people don't usually start showing up till maybe 6 or so. We were there a little after 6, and found that... oh, you see, the party doesn't really get started until 7 or so. You're perhaps familiar with the system from Argentina, and if you are you know what it connotes, also.
It's not that I give a shit about the time ; it's that there's no fucking party, you see. The population is, first, and foremost, and considerably past that, in the third, and forth and fifth place fucking overweight. Yes, there were maybe two hundred people present, this much is true. But they weighed together well over thirty tons. Well over. Place is landbarge central, I have not seen females this fucking scandalously fat since... honestly, I don't even fucking remember. It is possible that at no point in my entire life to date I found myself confronted with such an agglomeration of lard.
The dudes aren't any better, at all, it's just that nobody gives a shit about the dudes. They did outnumber the females 2:1 or so, which is a lot better than the scandalous nonsense of Frankfurt, say, but this is thoroughly an academic point : the fat have no other gender besides fatness.
Very much contrary to the blatant lies they try to disseminate, fatties aren't "normal people", and sure as fuck aren't anything "just like you and me". Fatties are substantially, essentially, utterly and fractally not people, and I'll tell you how I know : if you get two hundred of them together, you still don't get a party going. They count as 0 in terms of party population, probably for the transparently self-evident reason that for them standing up is hard work. What happens when you get a coupla hundred fatties into a (generously ample) space is... well, that space gets landbarged. There's as many fatties sitting with a beer (or devouring with suspect appetite manifested in impressive suction capacity, all sorta small animals fried in oil) as there's fatties total, and that's the fuck it. They'll sit there shoving things down the porkhole for as long as the sittin's good, and when that's gone they'll just shamble to somewhere else where they'll... what the fuck do you think they'll do ? Exactly the exact same fucking thing, what.
Being fat is a lifetime committment, definitive and complete, to the exclusion of all else. Being as fat as these dumb fucks literally requires you do nothing else with your time but maintain it ; it's a plain and most direct recipe for having something to do with all your waking hours for the entire rest of your life : eat.
So they ate. It... well, it was a munch after all, yes ? So they munched, what the fuck is my objection even, maybe I misunderstand what munch means in English ? They sure as fuck don't misunderstand it in Czech, those bitches munched at least a truckload's worth of meatpaste fingers.
Seriously now, fat-tolerance in the BDSM community is the dumbest fucking idea evervi, I'd rather BDSM with Hitler. Fatties aren't people, forget about them already.
To be perfectly clear : the organizers are fine, I have no beef whatsoever with them. I didn't leave a tip because they had no table service, and I don't tip if you don't serve (leaving aside how the paralytic waitresses were rather on the demented opposite side of anything like Vienna's party girlsvii) ; but it's a nice place, larger than most anything I've seen (and I've seen this fucking world, entire), their alcohol selection is outright fabulous (I did like half a liter of imported Diplomatico -- imported by them, for me, just in case I show up, how can you argue with this!?), the furniture's many cuts above most any BDSM joint the world over, they're fucking trying. What can they do, the community Cheers'd their place the fuck up ? There's things one can do, of course, but...
As we landed the older woman behind the bar pretty much coerced these two, a very visibly gay kid and the -- by far -- hottest girl in the joint to make contact, which they did, in the sense of waving at me from a distance and discreetely offering to take the girls for a tour. I nixed the "hottest girl in the joint", for very good reasons : yes, merely chubby (as opposed to exploded), yes nicely dressed (though still three layers of pants over the cunt, duh), yes ass, yes tits, but neither pretty nor intelligent, and in any case of no interest to me nor of any value in my eyes. This estimation, incidentally, very much at variance with the local crowd, at one point as she smoked she slinked in (at a safe distance), sat her ass down across the room and also smoked. Before any cigarettes were out, there was a genuine queue, dudes waiting to something or the other with her, like crabs or some other inferior lifeform waiting its copulatory turn (though these, advanced life forms, had not even the vaguest designs in the copulatory direction, they just sat in the queue as some kind of "party" activity I suppose). In the landbarge lands the homely weirdo is queen, what the fuck can I say.
Yet the touring was not without its benefits : the sluts retuned to report there's actually a great upstairs, so we went to check it out.
The first stop, the sex shop. This thing was a tiny 2x3 cabinet of horrors, but you see... Hm.
Here it is : prior to going to the munch we went on a tour of downtown sex shops. One was a tiny boutique-like thing, mostly a lot of handmade crap in there. I picked up a Pleaser knock-off from the shelf (nevertheless retailing for $550 in local money, ie way the fuck more than what the originals cost) and had the Bimbo hold hers for the camera, at which point the dweeby chick clerking the place ran over to tell me that no pictures. What the fuck are they thinking, these idiots ?! Anyways, so I simply left, lord fucking help you if you're fucked in the head enough to hire the sort of morons that'll actually get in the way of the moneyed.
The other was a large chain thing, offering lots and lots of "Shades of Gray" branded crap and assorted Hot Topic-isms. They had interesting over-the-knee soft leather boots, but not only couldn't produce a 38 for Hannah to try, they actually had nothing but a single 43 in the store. They had cuffs, but the shitty sort with the button that allows opening them on the cuff itself. They had no ankle cuffs, they had some maybe interesting dildos but nothing really good -- and everything twice the price, which I suspect is the business model here : buy vanilla & mainstream BDSM-flavoured things, sell them for twice the price, and there you go, "sex store".
This sad state of affairsviii stands at complete odds with the tiny shop above the munch : yes it was deserted when I got there ; but yes it was provided with a clerk upon my asking. Yes he had no fucking idea what voltage the electric tubes were, nor, I suspect, much clue re BDSM or interest in it whatsoever (besides the very universal, naturally male, "oh, chicks in distress!!!" thing) ; but yes he opened everything I asked and waited politely for me to try things and didn't get in my way at all, in any way. It's hard to get a positively useful clerk ; but it is (or at least should be) trivial to get one that doesn't actually hinder anything, and I'll be happy with this lower bar.
Everything there was quite excellent, and so I ended up buying three switches -- one of which I'm so happy with, it's a welcome actual replacement to the hand made crop I commissioned back in Argentina, if you can imagine that wonder! -- plus one paddle for great noise & noobish butts. Also three tail buttplugs (real fucking nice for once, not the cheap short ugly shit from "sex stores", kickass tails, yay), a dilator and a nipple chain (that I earlier put on the noses of two girls -- there's no picture though, notwithstanding how edibly cute they looked, because they were in so much fucking pain I took it off before I got the camera out).
The leather's exceedingly fine and superbly cured, everything was evidently lovingly (~=responsibly) well made, and the selection in turn evidently put together by actual experts, actually interested in the thing. So they made a substantial sale, something nobody else in Prague managed (nor, for that matter, in a string & bevy of other capitals, European and otherwise). It's something, this, running a shop such that your custom counts it as a credit to your name, rather than an offensive annoyance.
And then we moved on to the play rooms.
You see, there's one large room and three smallers ; also lockers, showers, bathrooms... it's a fully fledged dungeon floor, what. Up stairs (with no "handicapped" access / elevator), so the fatties can't really make it here -- which they blessfully also don't. The concept is that the spaces have doors, and on the doors there's a sorta clock, you can set to either red (leave me be), yellow (knock and see) or green (come right in). I didn't fucking bother, leaving the door way the fuck open, which did attract a coupla slightly deranged looking middle aged males, but it'd be the peak of unfairness to claim they bothered or disturbed anything -- in fact, the fuckers kept their distance like I was radioactive. #notacomplaint
Everyone here is intensely private ; besides a coupla older domme chicks, with a dude their age in tow and a young kid whom they had completely naked and caned lightly over a lengthy intervalix there was virtually nobody else there, one dude with his girlfriend spent a good hour sitting on the entrance bench, outside the room, back towards the door, until I specifically pointed out that I don't mind, at which juncture they (after a bit of interconferencing) came in, and he caned her fat ass badly for a little while, and with the underwear still attached for the love of sadness and wounded little kittens and baby rabbits bleeding their last in a muddy ditch in the misty rain somewhere.
What the fuck! Cunts out, bitches!x
And all you cucks an' assorted limpdicks out there : stop making them think they're precious. It doesn't help anything, they got problems enough even without piling deliberate, societally constructed neurosis on top of it all.
So anyways, zero intercourse, zero as much as saying fucking hello, just a herd of dissocial assonauts tending to their tender buttholes by themselves in silence and sadness, it was like being in what everyone imagines is Japan, buncha autists. I spent like three hours working over my girls with all the machinery readily available there, and then went home.
Nor am I going back ; I utterly don't see the point. With a "BDSM community" like that, masturbation actually stands out as a very workable, perhaps even outright preferable alternative.
Batman's first time on the wheel ; she had heaps of (occasionally very stinging) fun.
Caged manticore, keks. Isn't life fun ?
Anyways : we had an absolute ball, to the very point of physical exhaustion. And then we took off.
What'd life be without one's own harem is an inconceivable pit to contemplate.
- Meaning bourgeois, presumably the idea here is /rˈʒ/. [↩]
- By which they mean /ʒ/, of course, herp derp. [↩]
- I'll share what I do all day long, incidentally.
I come up with ideas, that's what I do. For instance : suppose someone went to Sephora, and actually ordered one of everything, like we do.
Then got a nice medieval brass cooking pot, the two ton sort, and... mixed everything together in there, make a nice uniform paste out of all of it.
Do you suppose it'd summon Madonna ? [↩]
- If you're in there, by all means, write in -- I'll give you the aye or nay after the first meet.
Special discount until Monday night -- it won't even cost you any airfare, that first meet -- I happen to be in Prague. [↩]
- Then again, maybe you could be equipped to contemplate. Let's quote from a discussion of gold :
It never worked, to date, it'll never work to any date. My objection, and I'm confident the thing that sunk the project (not for it being mine, but for it being sound) is simply this : why bother with all the digging, all the cyanide ponds, all that, just to get gold out of the ground, move it 500 miles south west and then... dig a hole, put it there and guard it ? Just put up a sign, National Bank of Romania Gold Vault, Rosia Montana Division on that mountain and be done with it. It's... just as gold, and just as buried, where it stands.
Consider if you will : were I to send the dude army to compel the cunts, I'm then stuck with compelled cunts, and therefore a perpetual need for an ever increasing dude army, to keep them compelled, to chase after them if they de-compel themselves somehow, to shoot each other every time one of them gets the idea maybe my seat's not such bad seating... altogether and counting all the ends, adding an extra cunt to my harem comes at significant marginal cost.
Now conversely, if they're picked up, by other cunts, the marginal cost of adding one is... wait, it's a marginal benefit, now there's more cunts to pick up even more cunts, we've turned this around, from pushing-mud-uphill gayola into an actual relationship! Go me.
- Before anyone deliberately misunderstands me accidentally on purpose, we're not here discussing 70kg females. Especially at the sort of heights I favour, 70kgs are pretty much mandatory. We're here discussing the 170kg "females" that aren't. There's a lot of difference between those five or ten kgs rounding out the 70, and the HUNDRED kilograms making the landbarge, stop pretending you don't understand what's being discussed. [↩]
- I can't fucking believe I didn't recount the "kiss the waitress, get shot" shenanigans of No Limits, wtf! [↩]
- Which is nevertheless entirely descriptive of the Prague sex shop market generally : it's either going to be tiny nonsense run by rando clueless idiots ; or else corporate offense run by Bitpay-like scammers, miserable dweebs in the business of pretending to be part of the community merely so as to syphon as much money out of it as possible, self-obviously a ploy to its destruction, because if money doesn't stay in the hands of men who whip women, but moves into the hands of men who merchandize "Shades of Gray" crapola, there's not going to be whips or whipped women in the fucking future. Isn't this self-obvious ?
Don't spend your money with the enemy, srsly now ; and fuck Bitpay. [↩]
- I kinda beat the shit out of my girls, none of that three switches landing in ten minutes, I'm not working by the clock nor trying to fill as much film reel as possible, my time's valuable, gotta be done with the switchin' to be done with the writing to be done with the inspecting the catch to be etecetra, life's a race don't hold me down I'm burning through the sky... Yeah! 200 degrees thats why they call me mr Farenheit... Oh I'm travelling at the speed of light!!!
But seriously, eight to the bar an' two whacks to the second, what the fuck is this lame slowshit. [↩]
- Needless to say, I sent mine butt-naked downstairs for all sort and manner of errands, such as getting more alcohol, finding a price for an item missing one back in the store, I don't recall what else -- and they got lots and lots and lots of murderous gazes from the dumb cunts overdressed for their trouble -- while not a single one of the fucktarded morons realised they were in the wrong, and thereby ditched the spurious textiles.
Jos textila, fa, futu-va-n gura de proaste! Pfoai! [↩]