XPost: can.general, van.general   
   From: gregpcarr@yahoo.ca   
      
   Keep on fighting the good fight McVay.   
      
   On Sun, 12 Sep 2010 19:36:43 +0000, Lisa mcVay-Henske   
    wrote:   
      
   >Why Does McVay Openly Support Kiddie Porn - Is He Also A  Kiddie Diddler?   
   >Will He Soon LOSE the  OBC from B.C. Government?   
   >   
   >Why Did Harry Mazal & SAAF give McVay hundreds of thousands of dollars?   
   >Hmmm.... To pay for McVay's perversions maybe?   
   >   
   >James Fenimoore  May 27 2007, 4:13 pm   
   >On Sun, 27 May 2007 23:11:15 +0200,   
   >   
   >Anonymous  wrote:   
   >>Subject: My Master holds the rope just so by Sara Salzman   
   >>From: Anonymous   
   >>Date: Sun, 27 May 2007 23:11:15 +0200   
   >>Message-ID:   
   >>Bytes: 5834   
   >>Lines: 143   
   >>Organization: Bananasplit - Mail2News   
   >>Path:news5.newsguy.com!extra.newsguy.com!out.nntp.be!sp6iad.superfeed.net!   
   >>news-in2.newsgroups.com!news.bananasplit.info!mail2news-x2!mail2news   
   >>Newsgroups: alt.revisionism,soc.culture.jewish   
   >>Comments: This message did not originate from the Sender address above.   
   >> It was remailed automatically by anonymizing remailer software.   
   >> Please report problems or inappropriate use to the   
   >> remailer administrator at .   
   >>X-Newsreader: trn 4.0-test76 (Apr 2, 2001)   
   >>X-Originator: kmcvay @ shell.vex.net (Kenneth McVay OBC)   
   >   
   >Did anyone notice what I noticed about the headers?   
   >Another proof that the Jews and their allies post such   
   >stuff to prove their victimhood and to get sympathy.   
   >Looks like Kenneth McBray got careless this time.   
   >   
   >JF   
   >   
   >>Cc: mail2n...@bananasplit.info, mail2n...@news.demon.co.uk,   
   >mail2n...@news.gradwell.net, mail2n...@nym.alias.net   
   >>X-Abuse-Contact: ab...@bananasplit.info   
   >>Xref: news5.newsguy.com alt.revisionism:1596418 soc.culture.jewish:1801795   
   >>X-Received-Date: Sun, 27 May 2007 17:11:47 EDT (beE1)   
   >>My Master holds the rope just so by Sara Salzman   
   >   
   >>He knows me. Knows my moods. Knows the fear behind my eyes, both real and   
   >>imagined.   
   >   
   >>Those eyes widen as he gently lays the rope down, as he carefully,   
   >>methodically, systematically, lays the toys down on the bed.   
   >   
   >>Soft moans escape from behind gagged lips. I have been told to watch.   
   >>To see each and know that soon each will touch me.   
   >   
   >>He looks up briefly as he lays each down on the bed. Checking reactions.   
   >>Watching.   
   >   
   >>The short whip. A sigh.   
   >>The deerskin. The suede.   
   >   
   >>The small braided thong, the one that stings. A short moan.   
   >   
   >>The horsehair that stings but never marks.   
   >   
   >>The canes. The paddles. A pause.   
   >   
   >>I wait, knowing.   
   >   
   >>The small velvet bag that holds clamps. Clamps too severe for my breasts,   
   >>yet applied anyway.   
   >   
   >>A gasp. And then his smile.   
   >   
   >>He knows me. He knows I will take the pain to please him. He knows the   
   >>sacrifice I make to his Gods of Pain. He sees the torment in my eyes. The   
   >>desire to please. The love. The fear of the pain.   
   >   
   >>My Master holds the rope just so.   
   >   
   >>Through his fingers, around my wrists, making delicate rings softer than   
   >>steel. Stronger than steel. One on each wrist, a gentle bracelet that is   
   >>soon pulled tight, stretched to the bedposts and wrapped tightly. One on   
   >>each ankle. No matter how I tighten my muscles as he wraps the rope, still   
   >>it is perfectly tight. The circulation moves.   
   >>The ankle does not.   
   >   
   >>I lie face-up on the bed, my body a perfect X. Face up. Oh, Goddess, he's   
   >>going to whip my breasts.   
   >   
   >>But first, two small wooden clothespins bob before my eyes. I turn my   
   >>head, remember I am instructed to watch, turn back. The clothespins bite   
   >>the delicate flesh of each nipple. Grasp. Sting. Burn. He waits.   
   >   
   >>My Master knows me. Knows he can whip me, clothespins and all. Knows the   
   >>pain, where it will hurt the most, what I can and cannot take.   
   >>He waits.   
   >   
   >>The burning increases as the pins are removed. Ah, he will not whip me   
   >>with clothespins in place. But the moment when I was unsure, when the   
   >>blood pounded in my temples and the fear covered me like a shroud, then he   
   >>watched my eyes.   
   >   
   >>The whip falls. Which one is it now? I cannot turn my head to see which he   
   >>reaches for. But I know them all. I arch my back, try to stay still.   
   >   
   >>My Master knows me. Knows I will hold position as long as possible, before   
   >>the pain forces me to writhe, to turn, to try in vain to shield my   
   >>breasts. Knows the moment when I can no longer stay still. And precisely   
   >>then, says gently, "Don't move."   
   >   
   >>My Master holds the rope just so. Gently tugging at the knots, to release   
   >>arms and legs from bondage. Gently unwraps each wrist, each ankle. Rubs   
   >>each, and kisses the places where the rope has left its mark. The gag is   
   >>removed. I swallow.   
   >   
   >>"Kneel."   
   >   
   >>I crouch on the bed, head down, ass up, as he mounts the bed behind me.   
   >>His hands caress my ass softly, then spank sharply. Slowly, quickly, his   
   >>hand falls upon my ass. I wait for the moment, the pain/pleasure as he   
   >>will enter me. But not yet. First a gentle tapping, soft touch, as he   
   >>marks the place the cane will fall. I brace myself, plead with myself to   
   >>hold position, knowing each stroke brings a fire hotter than any flame.   
   >   
   >>Five strokes. Six. I have not moved. As the pain from each begins to   
   >>subside, a soft, half-sob. "Thank you, Master."   
   >   
   >>Eight. Nine. My knees give out, and I fall to the bed, sobbing. But   
   >>immediately back on my knees again. "Thank you, Master."   
   >   
   >>Ten. I am aware of nothing, save the pain. And his voice, as I am   
   >>commanded to orgasm, not from stimulation, not from his fingers or his   
   >>cock, but from pain alone. My body responds without hesitation. My   
   >>pleasure is screamed out for his pleasure.   
   >   
   >>Later, I will feel his cock inside me. I will feel the force as he thrusts   
   >>deep into me, bruising the tender flesh with his strength. Later I will   
   >>come, and come, and come, but only by his command. Later, we will lie   
   >>back, exhausted, as he cradles me in his arms, strokes me gently, whispers   
   >>in my ear.   
   >   
   >>But not yet.   
   >   
   >>Now he rises from the bed, returns to the toys so carefully laid out   
   >before   
   >>me.   
   >   
   >>My Master holds the rope just so.   
   >   
   >>finis   
   >   
   >>Ms. Salzman has served on the board of The Holocaust History Project,   
   >>has been a contributor of articles to The Nizkor Project, has aided   
   >>B'nai Brith and the Anti-Defamation League in their fight against   
   >>Holocaust Denial and anti-semitism. Ms. Salzman is a resident of   
   >>the Denver, Colorado area. Ms. Salzman's first hand expertise in torture   
   >>techniques and her immense knowledge of Nazi atrocities inspired her   
   >>to compose the artistic work featured above.   
   >>http://groups.google.com/group/soc.culture.jewish/msg/b5ef4abf9b586f0...   
   >   
   >>Contact Info of Authoress   
   >   
   >>Sara D. Salzman   
   >>4015 S Killarney Way   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
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