(story continues from A True Fairy Tale 2) A Cautionary Note. When I was a young girl my Mommy told me Fairy tales. When I was older I learnt that they are not real. When I was twenty I learnt that I was wrong, but that fairies sometimes are not as nice as I always thought they were! Not all fairies have pretty wings and eat ambrosia; some have pretty wings and whips and chains, and feed you gruel just for fun! ...
Dear readers. With my fifth book ‘A New Life’ finally published on Pink Flamingo publications (see the links) where you will also if you look, discover a few and different collection free short stories placed there for your entertainment. I thought it was once again time to place a few more short and varied stories on to the plaza, I hope that you enjoy the them. By the way and just so you know readers, feedback is always appreciated by all of the plaza’s authors, so many thanks to those that take the trouble to leave it. ...
SM Ackerman is the author of several bondage & DiD stories to be found on Amazon & Pink Flamingo, check them out online. My name is Louisa and I have hated being called that since I was very little, so everyone calls me Lou. I am twenty-three years old, five-foot-nine, and at school I was called string-bean, the reason I am sure is obvious and I don’t intend to go into more detail than that. My sister who is four years younger than I am insisted that I write this story, so that the whole world would know what a bitch I was to her on that fateful day so many years ago. ...
I am sat in my lounge with my skirt pulled up to reveal my groin, using a light weight metal file to try to hack through the body of a hardened steel heavy duty padlock, with a concealed shank. The lock has a guarantee of being the toughest lock in the world to open and that guarantee is accurate. It has been used to lock a metal chastity belt around my waist and it is effectively denying me access to my sex and my so desperately desired relief. There is also an egg timer ticking away five short minutes as I desperately rasp at the metal of the lock. I am also eager to make a telephone call but not until the lock has been removed. ...
Well readers I hope you like this tale of sexual interest, I am sorry that I have been absent for a while, but I have been fixated on writing two books both very shortly to be available via Pinkflamingo (See the link on gromets plaza). Titled Madam in attendance and Chloe & me. I have been a volunteer working in this stately home (a big old ancient house filled with ancient treasures and open to the public) in Great Britain for longer now than I care to remember. During my time here I have had quite unrestricted access to the place, and I discovered a few months ago that it has a deep cellar which has been deliberately hidden. Within that cellar is a hidden or forgotten about torture chamber or dungeon as they are called. Now you might expect that an old monument of a house might have such a place concealed within it, but there was one thing not quite right with this situation, and that one thing is that most, though by all means not all of the equipment conceal within the room is ancient as might be expected, a hell of a lot of it was new or at least modern made in the 1920’s; this is a torture room set up for the 20th century, not for the distant past, and I can’t help but wonder who might have been secured in their, and what had been inflicted upon them and why, and of course I mostly wanted to know by whom. ...
I have been a volunteer working in this stately home (a big old ancient house filled with ancient treasures and open to the public) in Great Britain for longer now than I care to remember. During my time here I have had quite unrestricted access to the place, and I discovered a few months ago that it has a deep cellar which has been deliberately hidden. Within that cellar is a hidden or forgotten about torture chamber or dungeon as they are called. Now you might expect that an old monument of a house might have such a place concealed within it, but there was one thing not quite right with this situation, and that one thing is that most, though by all means not all of the equipment conceal within the room is ancient as might be expected, a hell of a lot of it was new or at least modern made in the 1920’s; this is a torture room set up for the 20th century, not for the distant past, and I can’t help but wonder who might have been secured in there, and what had been inflicted upon them and why, and of course I mostly wanted to know by whom. ...
WARNING Do NOT try this at home, the story is presented here as a fantasy only, to attempt this in real life may result in injury or death. This is going to be a strange way to start a self bondage story, but in a way it is apt and very true and quite shocking as well. Read it and put yourself into her position and all will become clear, or not! This is not about politics as it might first appear, though it has some important bearing, It is about self-bondage self-punishment responsibility, guilt and choice; and of course sexually demanding fantasy! Every fantasy needs a drive a starting point or trigger, and reality is often the cause for the escapism into fantasy, so try to understand her horror and fear before you dismiss this woman’s tale of woe (all contents taken from local papers and radio). S M Ackerman. ...
Three am on a Sunday morning in mid summer, is as dark as any night in the winter and that is despite the moon’s glow. I am prowling my territory looking for something, anything! I am a hunter, a seeker of the unaware, a destroyer of any I encounter, that is what I am, and why I am afoot on this pleasant dark night. I am tracking the path of my target, my arousal first stimulated by a slight whiff of perfume, accompanied by the strange smell of a female fully aroused. The ground shows clear tracks of the route that my target has followed. I can see like an owl in the dark so the scrapes and scratches of a passing body, scattered along the woodland track, all stand out to me, as I hunt. I am close, near to my quarry, aroused beyond my ability to resist. I am the hunter she is my prey. ...
The raincoat was perfect it hung on a manikin in the window of a charity shop, with a price tag and the immortal and essential words ‘Double Sided.’ Jenny who had little money being an out of work student, reached into her handbag and removed her purse, a glance inside told her that ‘yes’ she did have enough money to purchase the coat, but not enough to catch the bus home if she did. Opportunities like this one did not come along everyday, double sided coats were a rarity these days, and this one was also a nice colour. She went inside and asked to see the coat. ...
The idea had been filling my thoughts for quite a while, I had read a story of a woman that used a winch to drag herself through her home and out into the garden, and it had affected me deeply. I am nineteen and have always enjoyed being tied up and held captive, but it is only recently that the idea has transmogrified into a sexual desire, and since it has, I have hardly been able to keep my fingers out of my slot. ...
continued from part one Part Two (nb: “bottle’ means courage or boldness, to “bottle it” is to lose it.) Standing up this time was easier than the first time, as there were plenty of trees, wiping the disgusting cow muck from my face was not. In the end and after a few valiant attempts, which only managed to smear the stuff across my face further, I gave up on the idea and headed back to the main path. I reached the path and carefully, ready to duck away and hobble for all I was worth, looked in both directions. There was no-one in sight so I stepped out and turned, my long walk began again. This time I found myself listening and jumping with every sound I heard. ...
Today starts like most days start, with breakfast. That is where the normalcy of this day vanishes. Breakfast normally consists of coffee, toast with butter, then off to work. Today it consists of a bowl of high fibre cereal, milk by the glass, a protein mix shake, and plenty of water to follow. My day normally starts with at least three cigarettes as well (I know there bad for me but…). Today they are banned, this is all part of the day I have planned for myself. ...
Today is the first day of a week’s holiday. My marriage failed recently and with a bang, and to escape from the out-poring and dire demands of the separation, I booked a holiday that a girl friend recommended for me. Whilst my husband packs and departs our home, taking with him everything he wants… My name is Ellie and I am thirty-one, slim, brunette and feeling desperately in need of a change of scenery and perhaps life as well, hence this trip. This hotel is advertised as providing for all forms of fantasy role-play, and though I do not as yet have much of an idea of what I might like to indulge in, I am happy to just relax and go with the flow. ...
(nb: “bottle’ means courage or boldness, to “bottle it” is to lose it.) The problem with me is that deep down I want to suffer and feel humiliated, scared, and everything else I have read about other women feeling when they do self-bondage. You know the sort of things, the tight ropes, the helplessness, the fear and the risk; and of course the potential of being caught and all that entails. Previously that is where my problem has been, I wanted all of this, but each time I decided to inflict it on myself I bottle it in some way. ...
This is a story told to me by a young British lady who wished to remain nameless, but asked for me to tell her tale. Her wish is my command! So this comes from what I like to call jokingly ‘The Ackerman Files’. I know she will enjoy reading her story, I hope you do as well, enjoy. Ps: thank you to all who have left comments on my work, I am sincerely sorry that I cannot respond directly (work load) but I am sure you would prefer stories rather than E-Mails, but thank you all the same. ...
I have visited the club many times, on most visits I have met and been entertained by a stranger! (I know it’s very dangerous, but I accept the risk). I always dress exactly the same, I always have my body swathed in latex, with a latex hood locked into place at the nape of my neck, and with a gag of some sort locked in my mouth. The obvious question must be :- how do I convey my wishes to anyone that I meet? The answer is quite simple. ...
Introduction: To understand the adventures through time Tella endures, you will first need to understand her life and location and drives, and how she discovered her father’s time-travel machine. My name is Tella, registered occupant (enclave 3) gal six, number allocation 323. I am nineteen years old, slim tall brazenly red headed and live in the year 3007 AD (old calendar). I live with my father who is a research scientist for our union’s government and I reside in a protected elites enclave. The day that changed my life forever arrived as all days arrive, with the sounding of the call to work siren shattering our enclave’s peace; followed by the marching of compliant feet to various work places. ...
WARNING: Adult only story. Mines, caves, tunnels etc, are potential killers. Do Not enter without serious consideration, preparation, equipment and experience. Act safely and sensibly at all times, stupidity costs lives. Self bondage is fun, and has been fun since before I care to remember, but eventually, no matter how tight the bondage, no matter how strenuous the situation. There comes a point in every fantasists dreams that it is just not enough! The danger is not as pointed as it once was, the need is more desirous of risk, and by risk I mean being hurt or caught or humiliated publicly, and the need to feel the fear of all of these possibilities burns in your mind. I had arrived at just this point in my bondage life, and on the day that I discovered a disused mine shafts air vent. (continued from part 2) ...
WARNING: Adult only story. Mines, caves, tunnels etc, are potential killers. Do Not enter without serious consideration, preparation, equipment and experience. Act safely and sensibly at all times, stupidity costs lives. Self bondage is fun, and has been fun since before I care to remember, but eventually, no matter how tight the bondage, no matter how strenuous the situation. There comes a point in every fantasists dreams that it is just not enough! The danger is not as pointed as it once was, the need is more desirous of risk, and by risk I mean being hurt or caught or humiliated publicly, and the need to feel the fear of all of these possibilities burns in your mind. I had arrived at just this point in my bondage life, and on the day that I discovered a disused mine shafts air vent. (continued from part one) ...
Good day to you, this is a brief introduction to the situation I am about to regale. I am the diarist to Miss Whippy cane she is the owner of an English specialist brothel. (I know some of you will have read this before, but read on and learn the reason for this tale. Sometime ago I asked her, Mistress W, for access to her client letters and requests she receives. This is one such story taken from those requests and how she dealt with this particular latex/leather pony, and if you have read ‘Sacked Two,’ (Gromet’s Plaza) you might make some connections, so read on and enjoy. ...
WARNING: Adult only story. Mines caves tunnels etc are potential killers. Do Not enter without serious consideration, preparation, equipment and experience. Act safely and sensibly at all times, stupidity costs lives. Part One . Self bondage is fun, and has been fun since before I care to remember, but eventually, no matter how tight the bondage, no matter how strenuous the situation. There comes a point in every fantasists dreams that it is just not enough! The danger is not as pointed as it once was, the need is more desirous of risk, and by risk I mean being hurt or caught or humiliated publicly, and the need to feel the fear of all of these possibilities burns in your mind. I had arrived at just this point in my bondage life and on the day that I discovered a disused mine shafts air vent. ...
I woke up in this dark place, it’s a very dark, wet and slimy place, and what is that stench? I am alone now, I think that I heard the sound of footsteps as my captor left. I am bound hand and foot, gagged tightly, with a cloth sack pulled over my head, and judging from how cold I feel, I am naked! I pull against my arms restraints, trying to snap or stretch the cords securing them behind my back. I can’t budge them an inch. My wrists start to hurt as the cords cuts into my flesh, so I stop! I try straightening out my legs but they only move six inches before my wrists are being pulled. Behind me is cold concrete, somewhere in front of me I can hear water running, I am scared out of my wits, and just want to go home. ...
Introduction. The craft hovered exactly twenty-two feet above the four wheeled drive vehicle, the driver of the vehicle apparently unaware of its presence! “Now,” Spoke the cool collected and experienced hunter. At his command a blue light beneath the disk shape lit up, and the car below stuttered and jerked to a halt beneath it, the light switched off leaving only the inky blackness of night. Me & My Experience ...
Authors note: This is a very dangerous and stupid thing to do in real life, please be careful what your fantasy life leads you to, in reality. Remember safety first, so be careful always and enjoy. S M Ackerman. Coal Faced. I suppose there must be the obligatory who am I bit! I am tall, slim, blond, gorgeous, sexy, attractive, irresistible and female!!! No I’m only kidding! I am female, and I suppose reasonably attractive, being slightly built, but with little but cute chest. I have nice long wavy hair and longish legs. I hope that will do, so to my story. ...
Note : This story was told to Madam whippy cane by one of her clients, as a self introduction letter, prior to becoming a client of her English B.D.S.M. brothel, and relayed to me by her, so that I could tell you the reader it, on her behalf. Enjoy S M Ackerman. Fantasy Land Visited Dear Miss Whippy Cane, I’ve always wanted to be grabbed by a gang of randy bikers, to have my clothes ripped from my body. To be stretched out, spread eagled, or bent over a motorbike saddle, and there to be roped down and be fucked hard! To have no choice but endure being gang raped, time after time, and to come again and again, (whilst they lay into my naked hide with belts and canes), like I do every time in my fantasies, just because I think about this happening to me. ...
Good day to you, this is a brief introduction to the situation I am about to regale. I am the diarist to Miss Whippy cane she is the owner of an English specialist brothel. (I know some of you will have read this before, but read on and learn the reason for this tale. Sometime ago I asked her, Mistress W, for access to her client letters and requests she receives. This is one such story taken from those requests and how she dealt with this particular latex/leather pony, and if you have read ‘Sacked Two,’ (Gromet’s Plaza) you might make some connections, so read on and enjoy. ...
My name is Loren and I am one of those naughty girls that is somehow always in trouble, and I love it. I love being wicked and needing to be disciplined, I love being called naughty, even if it is only in my own head! I love putting my body through my own versions of discipline, and mostly I love the feeling of being totally helpless and obedient and all bound up. ...
Robot-dominatrix, The Beginning. Year 2197 AD. Towards the end of the twenty-first century, society as we know it has been so modified that death as a punishment for serious crime had been outlawed. I am one of those that should have benefited; I am a serial killer at least in the eyes of society! I, in my own eyes am a victim turned into a vigilante, at worst I am a seeker of revenge upon those that have used and abused me. I do not try to moralise my position! I will not accept the claim that the people I have killed, each and everyone of them, did not deserve to meet their death. ...
Pony Racer. (the Beginning). Everyone has heard of Royal ascot and ladies day, and strawberries at the track side, with champer’s in a glass bubbling away. The noise of the start gun, the excitement of betting on the racers, of watching the horse flesh gallop around the circuit. Then there are the trap racers, carriage drivers who thunder teams of horses around a cross-country course, well I am a part of that scene, but not in the normal way! ...
My name is Francis and I have for some time now had a dream that haunts my every sleeping moment. For sometime I have woken up in the night only to find that the situation I dreamed I was in, was just that, a dream! Strangely every time I wake I am very wet between my legs, sweaty all over, and feeling terrified, but also so bloody aroused that I just have to toss myself off. I have even taken to sleeping with a dildoe beneath my pillow for just this situation! ...
My name is Francis and I have for some time now had a dream that haunts my every sleeping moment. For sometime I have woken up in the night only to find that the situation I dreamed I was in, was just that, a dream! Strangely every time I wake I am very wet between my legs, sweaty all over, and feeling terrified, but also so bloody aroused that I just have to toss myself off. I have even taken to sleeping with a dildoe beneath my pillow for just this situation! ...
My life has been full of ups and downs and at the moment I am enduring a down turn in my fortunes, but despite everything I have always had my interest in latex and bondage to see me through! Latex for those that do not know it is normally a liquid that sets, but also can remain flexible. Garments of any kind can be made from it ranging from Batman’s capes and body armour, to a simple, tastefully cut skirt or a Mack to protect against the elements. ...
My name is Rachael and I work at a senior college. My days are spent dealing with a variety of trivial student problems, ranging from lost papers, to girl/boy friend dumped scenarios. I assist and smooth and counsel and help at every twist and turn of a student life. Dealing with nearly six hundred, nineteen year old student angst’s takes it out of you. I have over the years explored my own desires in many ways, I find that being sexually sated and feeling fulfilled makes my job that much easier to do, but unfortunately; recently, a very strange desire has exploded in my mind and there is quite a lot of risk and possible humiliation in fulfilling it. ...
continued from part 3 Part 4 This is my weekend, my bondage weekend, my self-punishment weekend, and its only Sunday morning, I still have all day Sunday remaining to suffer through and now I have to make a decision one that could effect my life considerably, before my bondage punishment can end. I grew up on a farm with a slightly shabby looking farmhouse in which I and my parents live. I am an only child, and somewhat of a loner, mostly I suppose because there is no one around to be mixing with, well not that I know, and I think I know everyone for miles. Mostly they are old boring adults, with busy normal lives, and no understanding of a (now) nineteen year old girls needs or interests, not that I would tell any of them of my interests, that would be just to embarrassing for words. ...
This story is the precursor to the ‘The Wand’ stories, this story explains the origins of giants, and how the wand came to be where it was, and how they, the giants fell into legend, and it gives more detail about the wand itself and background to the story. Introduction. The Royal Academy of Science 2009. In the year 1880, in a cave system somewhere in Europe, two cave explorers discovered a lettered cylinder of immense proportions. Inside of the sealed cylinder, and under the auspices of the Catholic Churches guidance, the cylinder was secretly conveyed to Rome. Where on the direct order of the Pope of that time, the cylinder was opened, and a hundred years of studying its contents was begun, in secret. ...
(story continues from The Wand) Part Two: Emily The morning was beautiful, the sun is shining, the wind of the previous week is gone, and in my lounge, locked in a hamster cage, is the shrunken body of my betraying boyfriend. The bastard has been screwing my best friend Emily and I had been shown him doing so by the magic contained within the wand! I reached out and yes the wand lay next to me, a twisted piece of thin stick with a carved handle and a lot of power. The wand would help me, I can feel its affinity to my thoughts, the wand will grant me the power to seek my revenge, or is it justice, on those that have betrayed my trust. The wand, I reach out to pick it up, its power ripples through my fingers, melding into my hand, shaping its self to my thoughts, becoming a part of me! ...
As an actress of very little note I have played a number of very silly parts. I have been the proverbial rear-end of a donkey (at school). I have been the mutilated victim in a zombie movie, but most famously (so far) I have been soundly spanked with a coal-scuttle, across my white bloomers by a famous actor. After three takes, none of which the director found believable, I said to him (the star) just do it for real and that will work and he did, oh boy did he! He flipped me over his knee, pulled up my gingham dress revealing my knee length bloomers, and spanked the daylights out of my up-thrust bottom. The director was pleased, and thankfully so, because I was not in a hurry to get more of the same from this macho actor, well not until the bruises faded anyway! ...
S M Ackerman is the diarist for (The Diary of Miss Whippy Cane) she is a professional dominatrix and the owner of an established house that caters for the fetishistic desires of selected clients, all names have been altered for her clients privacy. The story is available from both Pegusus Publishers and Amazon. This tale is not included in, or an exert from, the above diary and is made available free of charge to all genuine readers over the age of 18 in the UK or as is applicable else where please. Enjoy if you will. S.M. ...
continued from part 2 Part 3 This is my weekend, my bondage weekend, my self-punishment weekend, and its only Sunday morning and early now, I still have all day Sunday remaining to suffer through before my self-imposed bondage punishments have to end. I grew up on a farm with a slightly shabby looking farmhouse in which I and my parents live. I am an only child, and somewhat of a loner, mostly I suppose because there is no one around to be mixing with, well not that I know, and I think I know everyone for miles. Mostly they are old boring adults, with busy normal lives, and no understanding of a (now) nineteen year old girls needs or interests, not that I would tell any of them of my interests, that would be just to embarrassing for words. ...
Thought & Time. I reached out to press the green button and the door opens, allowing me to enter into my paradise chosen. Naked now, I wait! My legs feel the tight grip of liquid latex slowly covering them. It reaches my butt and rolls around the flesh of my bottom, at the same time I feel it flow between my thighs covering my freshly shaved slit. My clit stands out on its own now, the latex flows around and then encompasses it, now I have a female version of a cock all smothered with a condom. ...
continued from part 1_ Part 2 This is my weekend, my bondage weekend, my self punishment weekend, and its only Saturday morning now, I still have all day Saturday and Sunday remaining to suffer through before my self imposed bondage punishments have to end. There is a lot I can and will inflict on myself between now and then… I grew up on a farm with a slightly shabby looking farmhouse in which I and my parents live. I am an only child and somewhat of a loner, mostly I suppose because there is no one around to be mixing with, well not that I know, and I think I know everyone for miles. Mostly they are old boring adults, with busy normal lives, and no understanding of a (now) nineteen year old girls needs or interests, not that I would tell any of them of my interests, that would be just to embarrassing for words. ...
Part One I pushed back against the ground making the swing on which I am sitting move in the opposite direction. I am bored I tell myself in no uncertain terms. I am at home having returned for the summer holidays from my second year at university. I glance up at the large rambling, slightly shabby farmhouse in which I and my parents live. I am an only child and somewhat of a loner, mostly I suppose because there is no one around to be mixing with, well not that I know, and I think I know everyone for miles. Mostly they are old boring adults, with busy normal lives, and no understanding of a nineteen year old girls needs or interests, not that I would tell any of them of my interests, that would be just too embarrassing for words. ...
I woke up in bed, hot sticky and horny as hell, with a fire burning in my loins! My fingers soon put out the fire, but not the desire that caused it to rage through my soft female sex. I can only put down my arousal to a story I read on the internet last night. It was quite simple in concept; the story took a woman and a dustbin and put the two together in a dirty messy kind of way. Now why this should affect me in such a way I can’t tell you, but it most certainly did! ...
This story was an entry into the 2010 Winter Fetish Story Contest For six hundred and seventy four long years, I have dragged a now ancient wooden casket around with me. Each day I enter it to sleep away the sunlight, then today, a Tuesday evening, a perfectly ordinary Tuesday evening, in the twentieth century I switch on the computer, select the internet, and what do I discover? A Spandex Sleep Sack! ...
A LITTLE HISTORY. My name is S M Ackerman and I am the diarist for (The Diary of Miss Whippy Cane) she is a professional dominatrix and the owner of an established house that caters for the fetishistic desires of selected clients. The story you are about to be granted access to is taken from my client notes, all names have been altered for her clients privacy, and the copy write is held in full by myself, S M Ackerman. This tale is not included in, or an exert from, the above diary and is made available free of charge to all genuine readers over the age of 18 in the UK or as is applicable else where please. ...
(story continues from Robotrix) ROBOTRIX Pt 2. The End of the Matter! I have written a brief introduction for those that have not read the original story titled Robotrix. Though it gives a taste of my situation, it does not explain in any detail, so I would suggest that prior to reading this the end of my tale, you read the beginning on Gromet’s Plaza. For those that have already read the original may I say I hope you enjoy reading of my fate! ...
WARNING Do NOT try this at home, the story is presented here as a fantasy only, to attempt this in real life may result in injury or death. Part 2: The Other Side Of The Fence. My name is John and I live in what was my parents house! I am thirty-one and frankly quite happy but I have one thing that is driving me nuts and that is that I like the nurse that lives next door, and despite the fact that whenever we have talked we got along fine I have not been able to get any further with her. Whether that is because I am intrinsically shy, or just some other reason I don’t know. What I do know is that I am finding myself more and more looking out for her, and watching her when she is around. Not in a creepy way, but in a hoping to find an opportunity to get to know her kind of way. ...
A Cautionary Note. When I was a young girl my Mommy told me Fairy tales. When I was older I learnt that they are not real. When I was twenty I learnt that I was wrong, but that fairies sometimes are not as nice as I always thought they were! Not all fairies have pretty wings and eat ambrosia; some have pretty wings and whips and chains, and feed you gruel just for fun! ...
(story continues from A True Fairy Tale) A Cautionary Note. When I was a young girl my Mommy told me Fairy tales. When I was older I learnt that they are not real. When I was twenty I learnt that I was wrong, but that fairies sometimes are not as nice as I always thought they were! Not all fairies have pretty wings and eat ambrosia; some have pretty wings and whips and chains, and feed you gruel just for fun! ...
A LITTLE HISTORY. My name is S M Ackerman and I am the diarist for (The Diary of Miss Whippy Cane) she is a professional dominatrix and the owner of an established house that caters for the fetishistic desires of selected clients. The story you are about to be granted access to is taken from my client notes, all names have been altered for her clients privacy, and the copy write is held in full by myself, S M Ackerman. This tale is not included in, or an exert from, the above diary and is made available free of charge to all genuine readers over the age of 18 in the UK or as is applicable else where please. ...
The wand had passed through many hands since it had first been constructed, it was a remnant of a distant past, and a tool held in awe by those that could wield its power. Elvin life-stones had been crushed and added together to form the power within the wand. A craftsman had hand carved the ancient (even then) tree branch to hold the dust, and so it had taken life, always seeking out those that could best use it. ...