What is an interactive beatdown you ask?

HOW IT WORKS:

Anyone can make a suggestion for things I should do to Beltway Bitch. It’s all good – whether you want to see him dancing like the sugar plum fairy on the capital lawn again or my knee in his groin, or a paddle to his ass till he cries – just go for it in the comments on my blog, email me, niteflirt mail me, DM me on twitter, whatevs.

Suggestions I deem unsafe, lame, in-your-dreams, or in violation of terms of service of Niteflirt content, will be rejected. Suggestions I deem FULL OF WIN are to be implemented and filmed. Those who made these awesome suggestions will get the clips that I film from them for FREE. So it’s a competition thingie. If you’re a Domme you can totally play too if you want – I’ll fly your banner and do some blog posts of your awesomeness if your idea rocks – I don’t get crazy ass traffic, but it’s not terrible either.

But that’s not the only way to win! If you are a ticket holder, or if you visit the GIFT REGISTRY and buy an item ($75 or more) to use on him, you will also be entitled the clips and some exclusive media – stills, mini clips, custom virtual thank you cards from Beltway, the IM id for any BEATDOWN CAM that might happen (depending on secure connections and travel locales)

The only items on the registry that I do not want for this purpose are things that go in my golden portal of perfection (ha) – that’s for Stud, not dumbass here, duh.  Everything else on the list is game.

The inspiration for this game is largely my disinterest in hauling 50 pounds of gear Eastward yet again, so the more gear I get the more interesting this will be. It’s also that I’m feeling playful and extroverted – act while this madness lasts.

So, gather round, get into your moblike chest pounding lord of the flies mode and let the BEATDOWN begin!

TICKET HOLDERS:

Please be aware that you are funding gear and extras pertaining to the trip and beatdown, and you will get your media AFTER I am back in the Midwest, the week of the 26th.

check it out ]]> http://www.totallyabusivebitch.com/news/2010/08/29/hmm/feed/ 0 http://www.totallyabusivebitch.com/news/2010/08/29/pics-and-opinion-piece/ http://www.totallyabusivebitch.com/news/2010/08/29/pics-and-opinion-piece/#comments Sun, 29 Aug 2010 15:26:53 +0000 The Bitch http://www.totallyabusivebitch.com/news/?p=483

“To gaze at these images without the opportunity to place a kiss worshipfully upon the instep of your foot is unbearable torment.”

well that pretty much sums it up, doesn’t it? Click and you can get yours – you need to be a niteflirt member to get them but, duh, you already are.

Um hello, if you are in any kind of gray market you bend the fuck over BACKWARDS to pay your taxes, unless you are a moron.

Assumption: woman. sex worker = non-functioning tard. Got it.

File under: men, stupid, duhhhhhh.

Wait, cash?

Yes.  Cash wrapped in stupid love letters may now be MAILED to:

Studio Stern LLC
PO Box 940
Germantown, MD 20875

Why? I have a LIFE unlike a lot of internet bitches who have time to scurry to the post office and back like your well trained hamster – IE: I have people who do this shit FOR me. Why not give my mail forwarding bitch a reason to continue to breathe? You can save a lowly idiot by mailing things, today.

Je suis belle, ô mortels ! Comme un rêve de pierre,
Et mon sein, où chacun s’est meurtri tour à tour,
Est fait pour inspirer au poète un amour
Éternel et muet ainsi que la matière.

Je trône dans l’azur comme un sphinx incompris ;
J’unis un cœur de neige à la blancheur des cygnes ;
Je hais le mouvement qui déplace les lignes,
Et jamais je ne pleure et jamais je ne ris.

Les poètes, devant mes grandes attitudes,
Que j’ai l’air d’emprunter aux plus fiers monuments,
Consumeront leurs jours en d’austères études ;

Car j’ai, pour fasciner ces dociles amants,
De purs miroirs qui font toutes choses plus belles :
Mes yeux, mes larges yeux aux clartés éternelles !

——————————-

For those who can’t (my own translation)

I am beautiful o mortals, like a dream all in stone
and my breast, where everyone batters himself in his turn
is shaped to inspire in the poets a love
as lasting and as mute as matter itself

enthroned in the sky like the inscrutable sphinx
I join a heart of snow to the whiteness of swans
I disdain movement which disrupts clean lines
I never laugh and I never shed tears

Poets, before the great poses I strike
derivative of the airs of the greatest of monuments
are consumed all their days in austere study

for I have entranced these docile admirers
with clear mirrors: which render everything even more beautiful
my eyes, my great eyes, which burn bright, eternal!

I realize not everyone is that dedicated – yet! So to make giving easier – I’m developing some DIVINE wishlists at my favorite stores. I’ve been very resistant to wishlists in the past – I don’t like running around and I don’t like online shopping nearly as much as your average vapid twit with no life, but I’m on a sudden consumerist kick.  You’ll be able to humor me, and I’ll be posting highlighting each new wishlist in succession as I make them.

Now, because my generosity is really something else – a video teaser I just made for the site. Yes, my soles are fucking FILTHY in this clip. Some of you love that kind of thing, and for those who don’t – lick it anyway, fuckstick!

Wanda stands in front of the canvas with her arms crossed over her
breast.

“This picture, like many of those of the Venetian school, is
simultaneously to represent a portrait and to tell a story,”
explained the painter, who again had become pale as death.

“And what will you call it?” she asked, “but what is the matter with
you, are you ill?”

“I am afraid–” he answered with a consuming look fixed on the
beautiful woman in furs, “but let us talk of the picture.”

“Yes, let us talk about the picture.”

“I imagine the goddess of love as having descended from Mount Olympus
for the sake of some mortal man. And always cold in this modern world
of ours, she seeks to keep her sublime body warm in a large heavy fur
and her feet in the lap of her lover. I imagine the favorite of a
beautiful despot, who whips her slave, when she is tired of kissing
him, and the more she treads him underfoot, the more insanely he loves
her. And so I shall call the picture: _Venus in Furs_.”

* * * * *

The painter paints slowly, but his passion grows more and more
rapidly. I am afraid he will end up by committing suicide. She plays
with him and propounds riddles to him which he cannot solve, and he
feels his blood congealing in the process, but it amuses her.

During the sitting she nibbles at candies, and rolls the paper-
wrappers into little pellets with which she bombards him.

“I am glad you are in such good humor,” said the painter, “but your
face has lost the expression which I need for my picture.”

“The expression which you need for your picture,” she replied,
smiling. “Wait a moment.”

She rose, and dealt me a blow with the whip. The painter looked at
her with stupefaction, and a child-like surprise showed on his face,
mingled with disgust and admiration.

While whipping me, Wanda’s face acquired more and more of the cruel,
contemptuous character, which so haunts and intoxicates me.

“Is this the expression you need for your picture?” she exclaimed.
The painter lowered his look in confusion before the cold ray of her
eye.

“It is the expression–” he stammered, “but I can’t paint now–”

“What?” said Wanda, scornfully, “perhaps I can help you?”

“Yes–” cried the German, as if taken with madness, “whip me too.”

my youtube channel – a little timewasting fun for me