I stood in the pod for quite some time attempting to make heads or tails of my situation.
It was becoming apparent that I could indeed move, but somehow, I simply didn't want to. The want to even check seemed so far away, that it just wasn't worth the trouble to try and get there. The more I tried, the more it seemed it really did not matter so much.
Part of the trouble, I believe, is that I felt good. Wonderfully so. My body was not strained, and felt relaxed into the position it was in. I couldn't concentrate on much of anything but the waves of pleasure coursing through my mind. It was an exercise to concentrate on anything but. Had I not been interrupted, I would have been content to stay there for some time.
I am not sure how long it was before the pod clicked, and slid open. It's gaseous contents spilled forth, crawling across the floor like an entity. Something deep inside me was screaming out to pay attention to it. It's coiling tendrils fading long before providing enlightenment.
The cold air of the warehouse trailed across my exposed body, shocking me into peering about. I stood there for some time, slowly taking in my surroundings, arms falling woodenly to my sides.
Something was wrong.
I did not want to go anywhere. Do anything. I was having trouble even formulating what I should do next, let alone how I felt about it. If my stomach did not wake up as it had, I probably would have stood there for some time.
Heading home, I could think of nothing but eating and going to bed. Even thoughts of my release or even why I was released, seemed to flit further away than I could grasp.
When I did finally manage to throw it together, food just felt like a chore. Lifting my fork seemed like an exercise in futility. I was starving, but just didn't want to eat. Every part of me seemed at odds and simply wanted to shut down. Half finished, I shuffled over to the foot of the bed and slumped across it, not rousing until morning.
When I awoke the following day, my body remained in the same position it had when I fell asleep, one of my shoes still dangling, half attached. I was relaxed, but decidedly empty. Things did become a bit better as the morning progressed. My mood lightened, but I could not shake this overwhelming feeling of disassociation.
My coffee was bland. The radio seemed far away at any volume, and my interest in anything seemed to wane before it started. No matter what I did to distract myself, I could not take my mind off of the events of the day previous.
Half way through fixing my hair and touching up my make-up, I realized I had not bothered to get dressed all morning. I was absently humming to myself and my mood was becoming elevated. Only when done did I bother to consider what the preparations were even for.
I was going back.
I am not even sure when it was decided, but there I was, sliding into my favorite slingbacks and heading straight back into the very place that started all of this. All I could think about was being back in that pod... back in that place. I scribbled a note to Mistress and departed.
Continued in Pt3.
Monday, February 27, 2012
Thursday, February 23, 2012
I Got Your Back...
If you have ever searched for a key hole tattoo, you probably walked away empty handed, or err... empty backed. Personally, I don't like being disappointed, so I decided to make one.
I was rather pleased with the results and decided to make a few alternative blending styles and key placements to round out the collection.
In all, there are five different blending styles, at three different back heights, for a total of fifteen tattoos in the pack. I hope you enjoy!
You can find them on the marketplace: Here.
Please note, this listing is for the whole pack. If you would like the free, single version, simply ask me in world or send me a note!
I was rather pleased with the results and decided to make a few alternative blending styles and key placements to round out the collection.
In all, there are five different blending styles, at three different back heights, for a total of fifteen tattoos in the pack. I hope you enjoy!
You can find them on the marketplace: Here.
Please note, this listing is for the whole pack. If you would like the free, single version, simply ask me in world or send me a note!
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Damage Control
Always be careful where you shop...
The map said it was the right place. I couldn't believe it was however. It led to what appeared to be a rear shipping entrance. Apart from some boards leaning against what used to be a door, there did not seem to be any regular way in.
Beyond the barricade, lights quietly buzzed with life. I could hear shuffling inside, perhaps someone sweeping, or a machine running. I could hear someone hammering busily, perhaps deeper inside the building.
It was definitely the right place. I could make out the logo on the remnants of a nearby shipping crate. A half smoked cigarette lay smoldering nearby, it's owner interrupted for more pressing matters. In the end, I could only surmise they were undergoing some sort of renovation. Moving the boards aside, I slid in through the space created.
Once my eyes adjusted, I could make out my surroundings. Piles of shipping containers riddled my view. The silhouettes of statuary could be made out in the distance. It appeared the map I was given lead to the Damage warehouse, not the store itself.
In the hopes that I could find someone to assist me, I made my way to the light at the center of the floor. As I rounded the final wall of crates, I came to realize why I had been feeling on edge, and where the light was coming from.
Fear is a strange thing. When I am truly afraid, I lock up completely. I can't breathe, I can't speak, I can't even move my neck. This was one of those times.
I knew then, I should not have been there.
On either side of a large desk, lay a row of glass and steel stasis pods. In the pod closest to me, a woman stood naked and complacent. Staring silently ahead, her breathing was slow and rhythmic. A pod on the far side of the desk also held an occupant. Neither seemed to react to my presence however.
It was a lot to take in at once. One thing was certain. I had to get out of there before anyone realized I had seen any of this.
Instinct still froze me in place, my throat constricted, keeping me from calling out in surprise. Adrenaline was building, but not fast enough to keep up with the desire to flee.
When I finally managed to break free of it's grip and run, my world fell silent.
I awoke relaxed. To the smell of perfume. Like one of those perfect mornings bathed in a sunbeam. I stirred back to life, not on the warehouse floor, but rather, to the inside of one of the pods I so recently discovered.
Looking back at me, on the inside of the glass, I could see my reflection staring helplessly forward. Like the woman in the tube beside me, my face was complacent but for a slight smile. I tried in vain to latch back on to those last moments of fear, but simply could not.
It was strange this, knowing I should be afraid, but being unable to feel it.
--continued in part 2.
In the meantime, come visit the warehouse, if you dare... Damage Warehouse
The map said it was the right place. I couldn't believe it was however. It led to what appeared to be a rear shipping entrance. Apart from some boards leaning against what used to be a door, there did not seem to be any regular way in.
Beyond the barricade, lights quietly buzzed with life. I could hear shuffling inside, perhaps someone sweeping, or a machine running. I could hear someone hammering busily, perhaps deeper inside the building.
It was definitely the right place. I could make out the logo on the remnants of a nearby shipping crate. A half smoked cigarette lay smoldering nearby, it's owner interrupted for more pressing matters. In the end, I could only surmise they were undergoing some sort of renovation. Moving the boards aside, I slid in through the space created.
Once my eyes adjusted, I could make out my surroundings. Piles of shipping containers riddled my view. The silhouettes of statuary could be made out in the distance. It appeared the map I was given lead to the Damage warehouse, not the store itself.
In the hopes that I could find someone to assist me, I made my way to the light at the center of the floor. As I rounded the final wall of crates, I came to realize why I had been feeling on edge, and where the light was coming from.
Fear is a strange thing. When I am truly afraid, I lock up completely. I can't breathe, I can't speak, I can't even move my neck. This was one of those times.
I knew then, I should not have been there.
On either side of a large desk, lay a row of glass and steel stasis pods. In the pod closest to me, a woman stood naked and complacent. Staring silently ahead, her breathing was slow and rhythmic. A pod on the far side of the desk also held an occupant. Neither seemed to react to my presence however.
It was a lot to take in at once. One thing was certain. I had to get out of there before anyone realized I had seen any of this.
Instinct still froze me in place, my throat constricted, keeping me from calling out in surprise. Adrenaline was building, but not fast enough to keep up with the desire to flee.
When I finally managed to break free of it's grip and run, my world fell silent.
I awoke relaxed. To the smell of perfume. Like one of those perfect mornings bathed in a sunbeam. I stirred back to life, not on the warehouse floor, but rather, to the inside of one of the pods I so recently discovered.
Looking back at me, on the inside of the glass, I could see my reflection staring helplessly forward. Like the woman in the tube beside me, my face was complacent but for a slight smile. I tried in vain to latch back on to those last moments of fear, but simply could not.
It was strange this, knowing I should be afraid, but being unable to feel it.
--continued in part 2.
In the meantime, come visit the warehouse, if you dare... Damage Warehouse
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Little Case of the Teensies.
I made my first display case for micro avatars. If you would like to see it, you can find it at the following link: House of Logoth Micro Display Case
It is used to display Micro (or doll sized) avatars.
I am starting to see why Lady Sethra finds this so addicting.
**trundles off to build again**
It is used to display Micro (or doll sized) avatars.
I am starting to see why Lady Sethra finds this so addicting.
**trundles off to build again**
Monday, February 13, 2012
Two Steps Forward, One Step Back.
My diligence has been paying off. My journey into scripting has been going rather well. The language is fairly easy to pick up after all.
Becoming a scripting doll seems within reach and I am ecstatic.
I even created a magic 8-ball. Sethra has been using it to decide my fate on occasion. I think I may have to come up with a more devious version for others to use.
On other fronts, Lady Sethra has been slowly tightening the bonds of dollhood around me. There was a lot to it I did not really consider. I actually did take a few of my privilege's for granted.
One of them, was spending. Normally, I am a very frugal shopper. I love to shop, but I hone in on what I want with a healthy dose of patience and care. I am not afraid to walk away disappointed. It was surprising when I was told that I was being put on an allowance.
I had not considered it. It only makes sense I suppose, but...
Okay, I'm going to cry now. Please bear with me.
Becoming a scripting doll seems within reach and I am ecstatic.
I even created a magic 8-ball. Sethra has been using it to decide my fate on occasion. I think I may have to come up with a more devious version for others to use.
On other fronts, Lady Sethra has been slowly tightening the bonds of dollhood around me. There was a lot to it I did not really consider. I actually did take a few of my privilege's for granted.
One of them, was spending. Normally, I am a very frugal shopper. I love to shop, but I hone in on what I want with a healthy dose of patience and care. I am not afraid to walk away disappointed. It was surprising when I was told that I was being put on an allowance.
I had not considered it. It only makes sense I suppose, but...
Okay, I'm going to cry now. Please bear with me.
Thursday, February 9, 2012
What's in a Name?
As time passes, I have noticed a distinct lack in my ability to miss my old way of life. I still think about it, but there is a lingering disassociation that fills my senses when I do.
Has it only been ten days? Was I really that unhappy before I accepted all of this? I am trying to tell the difference between the effects of the key, and abandoning my own emotional restrictions, but it can be somewhat difficult at times. It seems, much of this journey will not be finding myself, but throwing away what was already found.
My Owner likes to build. A lot. Sethra gets distracted for rather long periods of time tinkering with new designs and house building. This means I often have stretches of doing nothing more than watching patiently, keeping her company, and staying out from underfoot. Often hours would pass before I noticed. My only reminder being Sethra's occasional apologies from behind her latest project.
I never actually questioned it, as it is one of the things that first showed me how doll-like I already happened to be.
In the end though, a doll needs to be more than a display piece. Thankfully, I can peek through the haze of hormones long enough to still see it. I needed something to do, or I would lose myself to them, glazed over and mannequin still until I was called upon.
I required purpose, and recently it was given.
Sethra needed a scripter, and it didn't take long before two and two were put together. My first real order as her doll was to learn scripting so she could call upon it when needed. I was elated to finally be useful in such a way.
Until recently, having an owner remained a somewhat abstract concept. It lived as something in the back of my mind and never really had much substance. It was something I had accepted, but never really had affirmed. Lately though, people have been treating me differently, and it has been driving the point further and further home.
The final push occurred yesterday evening, when I was renamed.
Renamed: "Sweetie".
It is simply amazing how much weight a name can carry, and I didn't realize how much effort I put into maintaining my old one until it was taken away. It did not occur to me how much meaning it had. To have it changed, at someone's elses whim, was somewhat of a mental bounce. It was like a reset switch attached to the very core of who I considered myself to be.
Will people begin to forget who Lita Morane was, as I have begun too? Why didn't I fight against it? What is it in me that doesn't want to?
What is in a name? I am not exactly sure. But you may come to know if yours is ever misplaced.
Has it only been ten days? Was I really that unhappy before I accepted all of this? I am trying to tell the difference between the effects of the key, and abandoning my own emotional restrictions, but it can be somewhat difficult at times. It seems, much of this journey will not be finding myself, but throwing away what was already found.
My Owner likes to build. A lot. Sethra gets distracted for rather long periods of time tinkering with new designs and house building. This means I often have stretches of doing nothing more than watching patiently, keeping her company, and staying out from underfoot. Often hours would pass before I noticed. My only reminder being Sethra's occasional apologies from behind her latest project.
I never actually questioned it, as it is one of the things that first showed me how doll-like I already happened to be.
In the end though, a doll needs to be more than a display piece. Thankfully, I can peek through the haze of hormones long enough to still see it. I needed something to do, or I would lose myself to them, glazed over and mannequin still until I was called upon.
I required purpose, and recently it was given.
Sethra needed a scripter, and it didn't take long before two and two were put together. My first real order as her doll was to learn scripting so she could call upon it when needed. I was elated to finally be useful in such a way.
Until recently, having an owner remained a somewhat abstract concept. It lived as something in the back of my mind and never really had much substance. It was something I had accepted, but never really had affirmed. Lately though, people have been treating me differently, and it has been driving the point further and further home.
The final push occurred yesterday evening, when I was renamed.
Renamed: "Sweetie".
It is simply amazing how much weight a name can carry, and I didn't realize how much effort I put into maintaining my old one until it was taken away. It did not occur to me how much meaning it had. To have it changed, at someone's elses whim, was somewhat of a mental bounce. It was like a reset switch attached to the very core of who I considered myself to be.
Will people begin to forget who Lita Morane was, as I have begun too? Why didn't I fight against it? What is it in me that doesn't want to?
What is in a name? I am not exactly sure. But you may come to know if yours is ever misplaced.
Saturday, February 4, 2012
Cheeeeeze!
A pose is struck, a flash hits the eye, and time stops dead in it's tracks...
Well, perhaps not completely. Thus far, my key remains unaffected by simple devices like flash bulbs. At face value, two hours can seem like a long time, but when you get down to business, it can go by all too quickly.
Today's business, was an updated profile picture. By the time I had found a good location to take a photo though, I had almost wound down. I will have to learn to be a bit faster and plan things out a bit better next time.
I did however, manage to snap a few that were post worthy.
And! Since a picture is worth a thousand words, I thought I would save myself some typing and started a flickr account. If interested, you may find my stream here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/75898749@N05/
Kisses!
Well, perhaps not completely. Thus far, my key remains unaffected by simple devices like flash bulbs. At face value, two hours can seem like a long time, but when you get down to business, it can go by all too quickly.
Today's business, was an updated profile picture. By the time I had found a good location to take a photo though, I had almost wound down. I will have to learn to be a bit faster and plan things out a bit better next time.
I did however, manage to snap a few that were post worthy.
And! Since a picture is worth a thousand words, I thought I would save myself some typing and started a flickr account. If interested, you may find my stream here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/75898749@N05/
Kisses!
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Be Still My Beating Heart
Carpets.
Carpets are something I never really paid much mind. Except for the occasional replacement and shaking, they bore little consequence in my day to day life. Carpets were, to me anyway, decidedly mundane.
I suppose it is a mixed blessing, that I now had something to occupy my focus. As it happens, carpeting is far more interesting with your face pressed against it. Even more so, when it's fibers are resting but a few millimeters away from an eye you can't work shut.
I guess it was inevitable, that my key would eventually wind down, and I would find myself sprawled there, helplessly contemplating my fate.
The initial response to the key is to fight it. It does not take long to realize however, that it is not something that strength will overcome. The more energy you use, the quicker you deplete. The more you struggle, the faster you find yourself facing the truth of it. I was a doll, and if I did not seek winding, I would remain there, lifeless.
It's amazing what you can learn when you only have a floor as a companion.
As I drifted there, in and out of consciousness, I came to realize some things. For the vast majority of my existence, I have always felt like I was inconveniencing people. I have an incredibly strong aversion to interrupting anyone, or wasting a person's time. Often, I avoid interacting with people simply because I do not want to be a bother.
I did not realize how strongly I felt this way until Sethra was not around to wind me. I laid there for some time, fighting the urge to ask a Sister for help. I was sure they had better things to do than bother with me.
I did not expect the key to compound my loneliness in such a way. Thankfully, it was only momentary.
I came to realize that my Sisters were probably more than happy to help. It was unfair of me to think I'd be a bother, and acting as such, would probably lead them to think they were bothering me when they needed assistance.
Turn about is indeed fair play.
Thank you My Sisters, for teaching me something I should have learned long ago.
Carpets are something I never really paid much mind. Except for the occasional replacement and shaking, they bore little consequence in my day to day life. Carpets were, to me anyway, decidedly mundane.
I suppose it is a mixed blessing, that I now had something to occupy my focus. As it happens, carpeting is far more interesting with your face pressed against it. Even more so, when it's fibers are resting but a few millimeters away from an eye you can't work shut.
I guess it was inevitable, that my key would eventually wind down, and I would find myself sprawled there, helplessly contemplating my fate.
The initial response to the key is to fight it. It does not take long to realize however, that it is not something that strength will overcome. The more energy you use, the quicker you deplete. The more you struggle, the faster you find yourself facing the truth of it. I was a doll, and if I did not seek winding, I would remain there, lifeless.
It's amazing what you can learn when you only have a floor as a companion.
As I drifted there, in and out of consciousness, I came to realize some things. For the vast majority of my existence, I have always felt like I was inconveniencing people. I have an incredibly strong aversion to interrupting anyone, or wasting a person's time. Often, I avoid interacting with people simply because I do not want to be a bother.
I did not realize how strongly I felt this way until Sethra was not around to wind me. I laid there for some time, fighting the urge to ask a Sister for help. I was sure they had better things to do than bother with me.
I did not expect the key to compound my loneliness in such a way. Thankfully, it was only momentary.
I came to realize that my Sisters were probably more than happy to help. It was unfair of me to think I'd be a bother, and acting as such, would probably lead them to think they were bothering me when they needed assistance.
Turn about is indeed fair play.
Thank you My Sisters, for teaching me something I should have learned long ago.
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