For the aspiring Austro-Libertarian: what to read? #9

I thought I would recommend some of the not so well known but nevertheless mind-blowing journal articles that should be read by everyone in the movement, especially by those outside it. This is the ninth in a series of many.

On Certainty and Uncertainty, Or: How Rational Can Our Expectations Be?by Hans-Hermann Hoppe

So many pure gems, I have avoided as many spoilers as possible.

• I - …It is possible to imagine a world characterized by complete certainty…
• II - …The idea of certain knowledge requires, as its logical counterpart, the idea of uncertainty…
• III - …Nothing about the external, physical world is or can be known with certainty-except for those rather abstract but universal and real things that are already implied in the certain knowledge of acting and action…
• IV - …Our practical certainty concerning future outcomes and events extends even further…
• V - …If pressed sufficiently hard, of course, Lachmann and his followers would probably admit the undeniable and, as if all of this did not matter, quickly move onto another problem…
• VI - …They would agree only on one consequence: that there exists a categorical difference between the logic of the natural sciences and that of the social sciences. Indeed, it follows from the recognition of man as a learning actor that the (still) dominating positivist (or falsificationist) philosophy, which assumes that all (empirical) sciences follow the same method-a uniform logic of science-is self-contradictory…
• VII - …As already indicated in section I1 above, the fundamental logical error involved in Lachmann’s reasoning consists in the fact that it does not follow from the proposition that human actors face an uncertain future that everything regarding our future must be considered uncertain….
• VIII - …Even if the existence of a logic of action-praxeology-is admitted, as it must be, it does not follow that the knowledge provided by it can render our future certain. Praxeology allows us to predict with certainty some future events and aspects of the world of human actions, but its range of applicability is strictly limited. There are many events and aspects, and indeed far more of far greater practical significance, about which praxeology has nothing to say…..

Lightning Strikes.

When I was little

I thought that rain was God’s tears

And the thunder was him bowling

However I never quite understood why he would always cry when he went bowling

Now, I have a better grasp on meteorology and a lingering theory regarding the bowling skills of the deity

But still remain stumped by the glorious nightmares of uncertainty

the fantastic fear of striking out.

Of knocking down all the pins to find nothingness.

The weight of those lopsided trophies being swept away

To reveal an empty lane.

Some nights the rain collects in puddles to trip in,

and some days the sun is hot enough to leave burns

And some storms, the thunder and the lightning walk hand in hand until the very moment you’ve been struck.

Illuminated by reckless rains

Reprimanded by shouting storms

The pins are knocked down and suddenly everything is too loud and too bright to appreciate.

And so I stare.

Down the long lane

Making eye contact with a gaping hole

Weighed down.

Waiting

And I pray that all the storms aren’t just God playing games.

And I wonder if that type of prayer is allowed.

And I pray that it is

Because i have finally knocked down all the pins, but am too terrified to face the rain.

r.t.

By Aysel Dilara Kasap

“For what matters in life is not whether we receive a round of applause; what matters is whether we have the courage to venture forth despite the uncertainty of acclaim.”

Amor Towles, A Gentleman in Moscow

https://bookshop.org/a/12010/9780143110439

I just got off the phone with Reaction Junkie. As the conversation ended, he told me that he was going to put a craigslist ad up for no strings attached sex and post my address. Then he paused and said, “Actually, I’m going to put up a no strings rape fantasy ad.” He continued, saying that he would post the ad with a photoshopped picture of me holding a sign that said “I’m [LFB] and I fully consent to this.” and that the ad would tell men to just climb up to my third floor apartment, come in, and fuck me no matter what I said. Then he added, “Leave your balcony door unlocked the next few nights.”

As he talked, I got more and more turned on. My cunt twitched and my head went fuzzy with arousal and subby feelings as I thought about someone coming into my apartment to fuck me even as I fought back, screamed, and tried to get away. And it would all be at Reaction Junkie’s behest. The uncertainty about how serious he was only made everything that much more intense.

I asked in a little voice, “You wouldn’t really do that, would you?” His response was to laugh in amusement and say, “Just try me.” I let out a sound halfway between a moan and a whimper and felt my cunt clench in response. My mind was buzzing softly. I was incredibly turned on and half in subspace. Reaction Junkie chuckled and said, “That was a great noise,” and I breathlessly  told him that his response was the correct one. It was perfect.

He wasn’t done, yet. He told me, “When they come in, you have to lope up to them on your hands and knees.” He told me I was to wag my tail and to do so while “panting and smiling.” Then he mused, “I wonder if they’ll be into petplay or if they’ll just fuck your face for showing your mouth to them?” By now, my hand was in my panties and I was rubbing my clit, gasping and moaning as he spoke.

I could all but hear his grin when he said, “You better hope it’s me who comes through that door.” He told me I could get off  after I do some work. I told him that I would definitely do that while fantasizing about the things he’d just said to me. When he said, “I’ll look forward to reading your tumblr post,” I laughed and told him, “I was just composing it in my mind.” We said goodbye and got off the phone.

Just writing about this has me turned on and subby again. I’m hot and wet and horny. I love how wonderfully he pushes my buttons. Rape fantasies, uncertainty, degrading petplay, ordering me around, fucking with my mind. Leaving me not knowing what or if he’ll post online, but enjoying the back and forth in my mind about it. I don’t want to know. He’ll do what he wants and I’ll accept it. He owns me.  I’m his property, his pet, his toy. I’m whatever he wants me to be. Anything he chooses to do to me is a thing I want done to me. I’ll be home the next three nights, alone and with the balcony door unlocked.

A few days after Reaction Junkie and I had our conversation about d/s, we stopped at the grocery store on the way home from work. In the car, he had taken a  dominant tone with me, and he didn’t let a little thing like being in public prevent him from continuing. As we walked through the store, he kept grabbing me and whispering comments into my ear, reminding me of my place.

I was getting turned on by what he was doing and saying and Reaction Junkie could tell. He laughed at me a little, and asked if my cunt was clenching. He didn’t need to wait for my response to know the answer. Of course it was. I always get turned on when he exerts his dominance over me and reminds me that no matter what we do, at the end of the day, he owns me.

At one point, I knelt down to look at something on a bottom shelf. Reaction Junkie came over to stand next to me. He made some comment about me being on my knees, which obviously made me think about sucking his cock. Just as I was thinking that, he said, “Suck my cock.” I thought he meant over his clothes,   and when I started to stand up to continue shopping, he said, “Suck my cock.”

At first I thought he meant for me to put my mouth on his crotch over his clothes. The idea of doing that made me a little nervous, and more than a little excited. Being seen doing that probably wouldn’t land him, or even me, in any trouble, but I would probably be too mortified to go back. I was about to ask if that’s what he meant for me to do, thinking I would definitely do it, despite my worries about doing so in public.

Before I could say anything, however, Reaction Junkie added to his command, “Take it out.” That threw me, since I didn’t know whether or not he meant it. Actually having his cock out in public could potentially negatively affect him, not just me. If I hadn’t been concerned about what consequences he might face, I would have immediately grabbed his cock and started sucking. As it was, however, I started to stand, deciding that he wasn’t serious. The look on his face made me uncertain again.

I returned to my knees, then tried to get up again. I went back and forth between kneeling and standing multiple times, not knowing what the right thing to do was. I tried to figure out from his expression what he wanted, even tried to ask a question, but Reaction Junkie just looked entertained, and I couldn’t figure out what to ask. He even added to the mindfuck, instructing me to stand and then ordering me to suck his cock in quick succession.

Being ordered around and being fucked with had me turned on and subby. I wanted so badly to obey, but I had no idea what I was supposed to do. Reaction Junkie had broken my brain.

He laughed and made fun of me for being unable to decide if I should get up or stay down, telling me how I looked, confused and stuck half-way between standing and kneeling. Finally, he told me I should stand. We finished grocery shopping, and the whole time he kept whispering to me about what had just happned. My desire to do what he’d commanded, my uncertainty, and my vascillation between standing and kneeling.

The fact that I would have sucked his cock in the aisle of the grocery store proved that I will follow his orders even if it would make life difficult for me. And fucking with my mind demonstrated that it isn’t just my body he owns. My mind is also his to do with as he will. He’d given me a perfect reminder of where I really stand (or, in this case, kneel) in our relationship.

We got up to his room and he told me to take my clothes off. I stripped while he got some things together. He had a hood in his hands and asked me if that’s how I wanted my hair. Seeing the hood got me excited, so I quickly put up my hair. He pulled the hood down over my face, a hole over my mouth to allow me to be as useful as possible. I lay back, now unable to see what he was doing. The uncertainty that comes with having my eyes covered made me tremble. I really do enjoy not knowing what’s going to happen next, whether because I’m blindfolded, or because my partner is being unpredictable. It drives home the fact that I’m not in control and that anything could happen.

After the hood was in place, he leaned back away from me and pushed my legs apart. I thought he was going to start fucking me or hit me or something, but instead he spit on my cunt. I whimpered when I heard and felt that, since spit is the most gross. Which, of course, he knows. That’s why he did it. Next thing I knew, he was on top of me, his cock in my mouth. He fucked my face, his cock hitting the back of my throat and making it hard to breathe. He stopped, and then I felt him tying rope around my ankle. He bent my legs and tied them like that. When he finished, he said, “I don’t know how we handle being in public.” “Why?” I asked. “Because I’ve wanted to do this since I saw you.” came the ridiculously hot answer. Hearing that he’d been wanting to use me and abuse me, and that he’d been thinking about it made me a happy and wet little cunt.

Done with my legs, he spread them again and pushed his cock into me. I moaned, feeling his cock filling me, and heard him say, “Fuck, you’re tight.” He fucked me hard and deep, hurting me and making me feel good in equal measure. I whimpered, and he pointed out that it was my fault this was happening. He was right. I didn’t clean my ass out for him to use before I came over. If I had, he’d be using that instead, which would hurt less. I need to be a better slut for him, and I deserved the hard use my cunt was getting.

Legolas pulled out of me and made me move to the side of the bed, the ropes making that task more difficult and uncomfortable. I knew what was coming, and with as little hesitation as I could manage, put my head over the side of the bed. He shoved his cock into my mouth and down my throat, and I fought down the panic that always comes with being unable to breathe. He repeatedly pushed his cock in and out of my throat, and I did the best I could to handle it. He told me that he was being too nice to me. He’s always too nice to me, giving me his attention and being willing to use and abuse me. I’m lucky he’s willing to spend time on me when I couldn’t even come over with my ass in the state he wants it. Especially considering the fact that, as he pointed out, he could get a more conscientious cunt to come over instead.

He yanked the hood off at some point, and stopped the throatfucking to let me breathe for a little while. It wasn’t a break, of course, and he lay back while I licked and sucked his cock, listening to his breathing and the noises he made. He pushed me off and it was back over the side of the bed for me, his cock in my throat. Eventually he stopped. He went around to the other side of the bed and put on another condom. I looked at him and he said, “Did you think I was done using your cunt?” before starting to fuck me hard again. He was rougher this time, hurting me with hands while he hurt my cunt with his cock. He slapped me in the face quite a few times, and my left cheek actually hurt for a short time after he stopped.

I started apologizing for not preparing for him to use my ass and promising to do better. I was talking about how I deserved all the pain and suffering he was inflicting on me because I hadn’t come over clean, when he said, “We can make it hurt more,” and told me to turn over so he could fuck me from behind. I turned over, the rope making it difficult and painful to get and be on my knees. He thrust into me again, going deep and making it hurt a lot. I whimpered, but managed not to move away. I deserved it, basically asked for it, by not doing the best I could for him.

He flipped me back over, and continued fucking me as he took the rope off my legs. When they were free, he pulled them up straight and pushed them back, changing the angle and making me moan. He continued fucking me and then pulled out and took the condom off. He came all over my stomach and chest, and all the way up to my collarbone. I sighed, satisfied, when he was done, and looked at how much prettier he’d made me, covering me with his cum.

Perfect Saturday. Friends, food, fun, and fucking.

Saturday night, I went to a grand opening for a new play space. I picked up Reaction Junkie, Legal Lolita, and Repressed Boy and we headed to the play party. As we stood in line, we said hello to Legolas and talked. Finally, they opened the doors and we walked in. We explored the mostly empty space, poking around at different pieces of equipment, until Reaction Junkie looked at me and said, “You’re far too free. Let’s go fix that.”

We found a space and put down our stuff. Next thing I knew, I was against the wall, Reaction Junkie’s voice in my ear, asking me what a girl like me was doing dressed like that in a place like this. I whimpered in response, already starting the descent into a nice little headspace. He pulled out his knife and pressed it against my throat, saying “You’re going to do exactly what I say. Do you understand?” I said that I understood. He held the knife in front of my face and said, “Now you’ve seen this and you know I have it, so I can put it away and you’ll behave?” I nodded, and he stepped away, telling me to strip down to my panties. I hurried to comply, afraid of the consequences if I dawdled or acted silly.

Reaction Junkie came up behind me and tied a blindfold over my eyes. I’m very glad he did. Since we were in public, and especially because Legal Lolita was there, I would have had a larger part of myself than usual on the sidelines, observing, instead of being fully immersed in the scene and the headspace. Not to mention, being unable to see leaves me with a heightened uncertainty. Of course, the scene itself was making me uncertain. I had no idea what he had in mind, or even what he might do in a public space. At the beginning of the scene, I had been grinning and happily enjoying myself, but as it went on, the smile fell off my face, and the happy enjoyment shifted to fearful, pained, submissive enjoyment. It became an enjoyment of the reminder of my place, of his power, of his control, and the fact that this isn’t a game.

Once the blindfold was in place, he tied me with my arms behind my back. There would be no getting away, no fighting back. Not that I would try to do either. And not that it would even matter if I did try. He was in control of my mind, my body, and the entire situation. The next thing I knew, I was on the ground. He pushed the knife into me, and I felt the sharp tip digging into my flesh. As he pressed the tip into different parts of my torso, he mused aloud, “How much pressure do you think it would take to pierce your skin?” It was all I could do to keep my reactions to a mere tremble, trying hard not to move too much, not wanting to find the answer to that question by accident by shifting unexpectedly.

Reaction Junkie dragged the knife (Okay. I half believe he used the actual knife for all of this, but I also half believe he used parts of the knife besides the blade or something else for at least some of it but wasn’t and am still not sure and I don’t even want to know because I do like the uncertainty.) along my skin, pricking me with it. Sharp pokes like that tend to make me cry really easily, and I like to let people know, even people I know are okay or like crying, that I may cry soon, just in case they don’t feel like having me cry (yet). I told Reaction Junkie that if he poked me much more I might cry. He asked if I was okay with that. Normally, I’m fine with crying, but this would have been crying in a new place in front of people, so I told him “Let’s keep going, and if I cry, I’ll let you know if I need something else at that point.” He agreed and resumed menacing me.

He pressed the knife against my cheek and threatened to fluid bond me to it. As he pushed it into my skin, there were a couple points where I legitimately felt like it might cut me, or wondered if it was. I was strangely okay with that. I don’t like the idea of actually being cut, but if he wanted to do that, I would try my hardest to take it for him. At one point during the scene, Reaction Junkie said something along the lines of “Do you understand that you’re mine and I can do whatever I want to you and no one will do anything about it?” and when I started to say I understood, he asked if I understood it at an emotional level. I did understand, but not at that deeper level. Not until this scene.

Now I get what it means to say that he owns me. Obviously he can do whatever he wants to me. Not just because he’s physically stronger than I am. More than that, I’ll accept whatever he decides to do because all of me, and everything that is mine, is his. And no one is going to stop him because they would see that I want what is happening. Maybe I won’t want the particular thing at the particular moment. In a broader sense, though, I do want it because he decided to do it. My purpose is to take whatever he dishes out, and to give him whatever he desires. I want him to do anything and everything he wants to me, no matter my preferences.

becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys:

butchofthemoon:

butchofthemoon:

butchofthemoon:

just saw a post where someone put “detrans dni” and like… hey we should be supporting detransitioned people bc if we don’t terfs will

sometimes you’re wrong about your identity and that’s ok like i used to think i was bi but it turns out i was wrong and i know ppl who thought they were trans but it turns out they were wrong and it should be ok and accepted that sometimes people don’t get it right on the first try

@shadowknight1224 this is an excellent way of putting it thank you

This touches on something I have felt for a long time, which is that one of the reasons rigid queer labels and gatekeeping is so dangerous is because if you want to encourage people to explore their gender/sexuality, there has to be a safe “Actually I was wrong” option.

I went through so very much anxiety coming out, and when I really think about it it was squarely from the fear of being wrong about it all. That I was, at heart, a cishet woman, and therefore I was appropriating a label that didn’t ‘belong’ to me, and I would (somehow) be harming other people by doing so. There’s so much more unnecessary pressure if the sword hanging over your head is “But you do have to be right about this, you can’t back out once you’ve even asked the question.”

I think that is Bad. I think it makes fewer people ask the question. I think that includes those who need to ask, and would be much happier for it.

nidasnoggin:

ruffboijuliaburnsides:

inksplit:

probably.

rolling 1 on perception

[ID : A screenshot of text that reads “He stared at her with what was probably a normal amount of eyes.” /end ID]

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