Darkness

I was reminded today that I started this journey looking for darkness.

It stands to reason that only a person in the light can seek darkness.  Only a person battered by never-ending sun seeks wet, cooling rain.  I meditated upon what the darkness means to me (because, many weeks ago, He had asked me and I know my answer was insufficient, at least to me).   "What is it that I seek," I kept returning to, "in the so-called darkness?"

There is a place in Second Life that specializes in darkness.  (Well, let's face it... there are several who make that claim.  I refer, though, to a very explicit specialty, imaginatively concocted and originally produced.  Sin Labs and Club Circe, my friends, the first and the mighty.)  No orifice is sacred.  No body part unused.  The true, objectified reality of skin and bones, and all the nerves in-between.  Kneel upon a plinth and be hypnotized into rebirth as a beautiful statue, so pretty, so soft to touch.  Kneel upon the plinth and feel your body filled with new fluids; and feel the taps clamp down to pour your own fluids for serving.  It is dark and blue and electric, the atmosphere so charged with the presence of omnipotent domination and manufactured servants.  Transformed beings for the sake of pleasure.  A factory for darkness. The art involved, the creativity and scripting genius... the whole philosophy is to be commended.  I applaud Kumi Itoku.

And yet, that is not what I mean by darkness.  Or, rather, the words might sound similar, but the visuals are very different.  My darkness has no logic to it; pure whimsy, that which cannot be controlled.  The appetites of men, that which cannot be controlled.  The leisure and release of men, that which cannot be controlled.  The darkness I seek is simply the unknown variable of a man in possession of rare ability who thirsts for my brainpower and hungers for my body.  And who will show me how to appreciate the subtleties of pain.

My darkness has a feeling of an old world.  A chateau, luxury and wealth dripping from every lit candle.  A library of apocrypha, magics and sundry offenses.  A laboratory, rarely used.  A ballroom, frequented by masked, initiated regulars.  Cages, perhaps.  Bird-cages, animal-cages... but the birds fly freely, and the animals roam wild.  The girls, on the other hand, are caged, held in reserve for use.  I would be one among many; and I would be useful.  I would never know by whom, or how to anticipate.  But I would know when.