As i live in a very big city, like most urban dwellers, i reside in an apartment. My unit occupies the entire floor of our building, with a neighbor above and below sporting the exact same layout. The wood flooring that extends throughout the pad does little to insulate the pitter patter of the upstairs toddlers' amidst their play. Nor does the thinness of the ceilings - due to the 19th-century architecture of this brownstone - keep much of the constant hollering and caterwauling of those who live below confined to their own boxing ring.
Out my windows, on both ends of the apartment, i am no more than 100 feet from my closest external neighbor - both streetside and the rear of the building (think 'Rear Window') - which means at anytime, if my shades are up, a potential of over 100 eyes could be peering at the happenings of my humble abode (this is why they invented dungeons). Now, i frequently parade around my bungalow with only what the good Lord hath given me, to the dismay, i'm sure, of my neighboring eavesdroppers. Not because i'm a slob and unkempt - i'm rather well fit, i assure the reader - but because i so often flaunt my nudity to the point of overkill (there is a purpose for this). In this country that i love, it is mildly acceptable to be naked in your home without the shades drawn, however, it is not acceptable in any way to engage in the deprave acts that i pursue in mi casa.
This means that the many times i've mummified my girl, tied her up and whipped her, encased her in garish latex, or simply slipped a gag into her mouth, i've done so under considerable limitations. Shades drawn and a pledge from my girl that she try to hold in her screams (how taxing is that thought?) which usually puts an interesting dent into what we try to accomplish. We do not want to arouse the neighbors suspicions at the overflowing moans of agony pouring from these floors (but, i often wonder, how fair is it that i don't question the young parent's above on their neglect for having let their child scream bloody murder for 40 minutes?), nor do we want to interrupt our agenda.
There are times that we travel to remote locations for vacation, wherein we usually like to pick destinations that are far from anyone else, offering us seclusion and solitude. Here, we can be as loud and boisterous as we want, which reminds us of the interesting negotiation frequently entered back home with our surroundings. Silence may be golden, but for us, it's part and parcel of living in such close quarters.
4 comments:
And even then, remote locations must be very carefully selected. My man and I recently chose a 'garden cottage' in the grounds of a country hotel, only to find that there was another cottage right next door, and that we could hear the woman when she sneezed. In the end we just forgot about her. As my man pointed out to me, "Why would she complain when she has free entertainment?"
On that note, the building that houses a high end accounting firm in my city has dark windows. Apparently, neighbours in the apartment block opposite the lift of the firm have been lulled into a sense of false security and they leave the blinds up even when 'playing'. There is a lot of congestion about the lifts.
Rob
I sympathize completely. I own my own home, but the windows are old and thin and I have neighbors who look out for me.
Yesterday evening the fiend was torturing me in the dungeon aka the basement family room. The screams were frequent and loud. I hoped my shrieks of pain wouldn't be quite as disruptive of the peace of the street as they would have been if he were beating me in the bedroom, but still, I'm a little nervous about facing my neighbors today.
Hi there. I just discovered your blog and think that you write beautifully, especially in "My Girl, The Dish." I am a student. . .try rough play in a dorm room with paper thin walls, and a girl who tends to be loud in both pleasure and pain. Makes for interesting gossip around the hall the next morning.
Rob,
Can you take pictures of this apartment block? Of course, just for careful, academic study and analysis.
o.g.,
who christened that space the dungeon? that it is also known as the family room is just tooooooo ironic.
little slut,
thank you for your kind words.
ahhhh, i do remember the thin walls of my college dormitory. this is where i first employed the use of a panty gag. of course, they were her own used panties.
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