#Storeman

[saktemsa04]

Storeman | Cj-australia.com

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Storeman

[kurthorton-moving]

I didnt tell y'all the other day but my mum was in hospital but its chill shes coming home today

[thequietabsolute]

:: skating a pirouette on ice is cool ⛸️✨

Belle and Sebastian - Tigermilk (1996)

[scotianostra]

15th January 1923 saw the birth of the wonderfully eccentric and very funny Ivor Cutler.

Born Isadore Cutler in Govan, Glasgow, into a middle-class Jewish family of Eastern European descent. His father Jack Moris Cutler was a wholesale jeweller and had premises at 85 Queen Street. He cited his childhood as the source of his artistic temperament, recalling a sense of displacement when his younger brother was born: "Without that I would not have been so screwed up as I am, and therefore not as creative." And creative he was!

Ivor was educated at the Shawlands Academy.[4] In 1939 Cutler was evacuated to Annan. He joined the Royal Air Force as a navigator in 1942 but was soon grounded for "dreaminess", apparently more interested in looking at the clouds from the cockpit window than locating a flight path, and worked as a storeman. After the war he studied at Glasgow School of Art and became a schoolteacher.

Working at a school in Paisley, however, did not agree with Cutler. He hated discipline that required the strap, having received it more than 200 times himself, and in a dramatic gesture took the instrument from his desk, cut it into pieces and dispensed them to the class.

Leaving Scotland was, he claimed, "the beginning of my life". He settled in London for a time teaching music, dance, drama and poetry to 7- to 11-year-olds. Oh how I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall in on of his classrooms.

His dour recordings bely his existence growing up in Glasgow and seeing his peers arriving at school with bare feet - a fact which, he later claimed, helped form his leftwing political views, aged five - appeared in his hilarious writings, Life in a Scotch Sitting Room Volume 2. With lines such as "Voiding bowels in those days was unheard of. People just kept it in," he used a string of fantastical untruths to expose the reality of his life and the Spartan - and sometimes sadistic - Scottish existence.

He also taught for a time at A S Neil's Summerhill school. Dubbed a hippy academy where a different approach to education was fostered, Summerhill was run with rules agreed between staff and pupils, and the premise was to educate the whole person. This alternative philosophy appealed to Cutler. He lived in the grounds of the school. Ivor married for a time, but his parenting skills did not go down too well with his then wife, they had two sons, he sent one, on his first day at school wearing a kilt, I can see that going down well in England! His son remembers his father once taking him fake fishing,taking him out in the street, with a stick and bit of string and a fork tied on the end dangling in a puddle, being his fishing line, he also says "I couldn't say I was pleased when he felt the need to walk down the street with a carpet sample in place of a tie."

During the late 50's and into the 60's he mixed his teaching with that of entertainment, managing to secure a slot on Acker Bilk Show and Late Night Line-Up. On one such appearance he was spotted by Paul McCartney, who invited Cutler to appear in the Beatles' film Magical Mystery Tour where he played the bus conductor Buster Bloodvessel, and yes the lead singer of Bad Manners took his name from this and was also a fan of Cutler.

Through music, poetry and children’s books the songwriter, poet and “unjoiner” of thoughts perfected a brand of eccentric mischief that made him a favourite of many.

His absurdist songs – sung in dour Glaswegian tones with a wheezing harmonium for company – were an ever-present on John Peel’s radio shows, second only in rotation to The Fall. His darkly whimsical eye can be seen in contemporary British artists like David Shrigley and Martin Creed. And yet Cutler remains something of a marginal figure, known only to a devoted few.

For the latter part of his career, Cutler lived on his own in a flat on Parliament Hill Fields, north London, which he found by placing an ad in the New Statesman saying "Ivor Cutler seeks room near Heath. Cheap!". There he would receive visitors, and his companion Phyllis King, in a reception room filled with clutter, pictures and curios, including his harmonium, some ivory cutlery (a pun, of course) and a wax ear stapled to the wall with six-inch nails - proof of his dedication to the Noise Abatement Society, because of which he forbade his audience ever to whistle in appreciation at his work. The bicycle was his preferred mode of transport, its cow-horn handlebars in the sit-up-and-beg position in line with his Alexander technique practice.

He could quote from Homer, taught himself Chinese and was in the habit of frequenting Soho's Chinatown, where he could display his knowledge - although, typically, he chose Chinese above Japanese because the textbooks were cheaper. With the onset of old age he was increasingly worried about losing his memory, given that his father and brother had both developed Alzheimer's disease. It was a fear that was to be tragically fulfilled. He retired from the stage at the age of 82.

His main champion in the late 70's and 80's John Peel once remarked that Cutler was probably the only performer whose work had been featured on Radio 1, 2, 3 and 4.

Ivor Cutler died after a massive stroke on March 3rd 2006 aged 83.

I could no doubt find many stories about Ivor online but will give you some of his own whimsical word instead, first up is

I Ate a Lady’s Bun

I got taken to gaol.

I ate a lady’s bun.

On her head.

She got a fright.

It was a surprise.

Do not worry I said.

I am eating your bun.

I am hungry for a bun.

Police she cried a good

neighbour heard her

and phoned the

police.

You must not eat a lady’s bun even

if you are hungry.

And I am in jail.

And some of his advice......

5 Wise Saws

1. Do not kick a grocer

on the leg.

2. If you kick a grocer

on the leg, make sure

it’s not a green grocer.

3. If you throw a ball,

it moves in the air.

4. You can not erase a

love letter with a

nipple, no matter how

rubbery.

5. If you empty your bowels

at night, a shepherd

will have a red face

in the morning. -*

[hellion-child]

having some quality morning Lay In Bed On Our Phones time when i see loverboy reading a work email w the subject line "shed bitch RDO"

me: do yous call [storeman] shed bitch

loverboy: he calls himself that

obsessed w that man

[hedgehogform]

I'm bored! Let's wipe this piece of brick and install Linux!

No Play Store yet :(

Installed a lot of stuff and also installed Play Store!

Installed Nmap, wget, and Zypper package manager.

Also installed Storeman.

All Android apps work just fine!!

I love the experience so far!!!

Now that I have a new phone I can use this old phone as a Linux phone!

[pilotsir]

Boring Army Life?

I am in my early 20s, just enlisted to national service.

As I am the lazy type, hence did not work hard to be selected as Officer or Specialist, just a happy-go-lucky type of boy. But I do like to look at manly Officer in their authoritative uniform .  After 4 months of basic military training, I was posted to Commandos unit. Haha… I am not that good as real commandos. As my dad is a medical specialist, he managed to “help” me with a medical reason and as such I was posted to Commandos unit as a storeman.

I was initially excited as there will be many manly Commandos to watch, but soon I also realised the officers and people there are quite demanding and like to scold people too. As such I quickly get tired of the environment and drag my feet to the Store room daily.

One night while I was ordered to clean up my store, I feel so piss off as I can’t book out and have to do those dirty job.  After cleaning for a while, I doze off. But was waken by some sound at the back of my store. As always I was very curious, I quietly walk toward that dark ally. I was surprise to see my unit PC there masterbating. He was very handsome and has a good tan skin and muscular too. I always like to see him but not to work for him, as he will scream and threaten to charge people. In fact I stay back that day is also because of his order as the Annual Best Unit competition is just round the corner.

What an opportunity to take pic of my ideal man doing kinky act. I quietly bring out my handphone to take pic and video of him.  He was there rubbing his nipples and cock and softly moaning away with his uniform partly unbuttoned. He is super horny and he has a big tool too.  I guess I was too excited that I not knowingly walk nearer and nearer to video his act… to a point he noted it. He screamed “what are you doing man!” I was scared when he screamed, but I used my usual style of blur-ness to handle the situation. Instead I asked back…“ Sir, what are you doing there?"  He was shocked and asked back…” ah…ah…do you mean you did not see?“

Actually at this stage I start to have cold feet, but I like his look a lot, hence I continue to "play” with him…“I saw, but I don’t know what you doing? Maybe I should show others and ask them”.  He was mad but he know he has to handle me well… hence he turn very friendly by asking me “ok, what I can do for you if you don’t show that video to others?” I was so excited as I have turned the table around and I am in control now. As I am quite playful type, I just continue to act blur…“ dunno Sir, maybe tomorrow I can go to your room, to learn what you are doing today”.  He sheeply said “ ok, come over when you are free”, after which he quickly button up his pant and shirt and run back to his bunk.

That really excited me as I started to wonder what type of “training” I am going to learn from him or maybe I am going to teach him.

The next day, I look forward to the end of the day as I will be “visiting” my ideal officer,  His bunk is at another building which is quite quiet unless that there are military exercise or event.  I am in pt kit and walk towards the building, kind of excited and nervous.  Once I reach his bunk, I politely knock at the door and go in.  Woo, he is shirtless with his number 4 pant still on… can see his great body. I nervously said “ Sir… ah … ah… Recruit reporting”.  He quickly said “What you want, Recruit?"  I suddenly recall I have advantage position, why should I be scare. As such, my cheeky side immediately kick in and I close the door behind me and said ” Sir, I want you to teach me what you did last night".

I don’t know how long is the period of silent, he kind of shock and wonder how to handle me.  As he remain silent, I just try my luck by saying… “ Sir, strip to show me… or else I will need to show that video and ask others to teach me”.  He is a bit mad but knowing he has to strip. He start to unbutton his shirt. He suddenly stop and look at me and said “ Recruit, you want to learn right? Why are you not follow me in stripping?”

I was caught by surprise but logically he is right, so I also start to remove my commandos unit T-shirt and short. Wooo… he looks so sexy in his undies. My bulge start to form underneath my underwear. I was so shy and used my hands to cover it. He kind of expert and whisper to me that it is alright, is fine to have hard cock… and it will feel good soon. Next he said “ I am going to show you how to masterbate, as such I will be touching your cock, you ok?"  Before I can reply, my cock already answered him with my cock suddenly grow so big that it appear above the band of my undies.  He slowly walked over and grab the shaft of the cock and start rubbing it up and down. I feel so odd and feel like running off as I never been masterbated (or touched) by another guy.  He seem able to read my mind, he quickly said ” relax, else you will not feel good". Next he appear like a big brother by asking me to rest my head over his chest, while he stroke my thick rod. Indeed I get so horny and feel so good. I start to moan.  I feel so good that not knowingly I also start to touch his body, butt and cock. He seem to enjoy it too and also start to moan. As I am quite new being JO by another guy, not long I start to cum. I don’t want as I enjoy being with him, but the white juice just shoot like in the shooting range. It landed in his bed and uniform. I feel so embarrassed and keep apologize to him. Surprise me, he did not scold me, instead he said “Is alright. Did you learn and enjoy?” I was like a young kid , just knocking my head. He used some toilet paper to wipe the cum off my body and pass me my pt kit. I know he has fulfilled my request and seem my enjoyment is about to end.  I dressed and walk towards the door.

He suddenly asked" Do you stay back quite often, maybe we can explore more". Stupidity of me, I just factually replied him that I hardly stay back as I book out daily.  I feel so upset with myself that I have said that… I do want to explore more with him, but just too sudden and nervous that I never digest what it imply by stating the fact. I just sadly walk out of the door and close the door behind me.

That moment when the door about to close, I seem to hear “Maybe I should make you sign extra, so that you have to stay back more often”. Did he really said that?  Should I be happy or sad? Getting “Extra” is never good in army term.

The next day, I feel great as I seem to know my ideal officer well… haha has seen and touched his body and cock. While I am walking to my store, I am so “lucky” to walk past him.  I walk past and smile at him, but surprise me, he screamed at me “ Recruit! why are you dragging your feet and never greet me!”. I am kind of shock and quickly apologize “Sorry��� Sorry Sir…Morning Sir”. The loudness has attracted my Unit RSM to walk out of the main office to see what has happened.  Once he noted RSM there, he continue to scold me and follow by “… Recruit, you will be punished and detained for one week, every night come to my bunk for extra training. I will make sure you are well trained!”

I feel so angry and humiliating as he was so nice last night but now act like don’t know me and scream at me. Maybe I should revenge by broadcasting his video to embarrass him. But if I do, I am sure he will not play with me forever.  After a couple of hours, my mood seem to settle down and suddenly I recall his last sentence last night (before I close his bunk door).  Maybe he does like me and just finding “excuses” to link me to him. While thinking of that, I seem to get hard at my crotch and start to forgive what he did that morning.

Seem so fated, lunch time I run to him again. Learned from that morning incident, I quickly greet him loud and clear. He was happy and pass me a plastic bag containing his OCS pt kit. He follow by saying “ Recruit, this is my PT kit I wear for PT this morning, do help to dry it and bring over when you report this evening”. I was shocked and just quietly accepted it . Confusion run in my head… is he treating me as his maid to wash the PT kit for him? I don’t even wash my clothing at home, who is he to command me to wash his sweating PT kit. But looking at them, I feel so good as if he trust me and show me his sensitive parts/items,

As I scare of getting more scolding if I can’t dry it by evening time, I quickly bring the pt kit up to my bunk for drying, before I proceed to my lunch. Surprise me, there is also a moist jockstrap inside, I doubt I can dry that Jockstrap in the open, might attract others to ask more question. Hence I hide the Jockstrap in my locker to dry. Crossing my fingers, hopefully it will get dry too and I will not get scolding from him that evening.

Time flies, it is 7pm and I need to report to Sir. I quickly open my locker and was greeted by a pungent smell. But lucky the jockstrap is dried. I quickly fold the jockstrap and the PT kit nicely and put it into a plastic bag and start to walk over to Sir bunk. Same as last night, I am mix with feeling, happy to be close to my ideal officer but scare of the mean officer who scolded me that morning. Would he nag at me all night? Or would he continue to touch my cock and make me feel so horny and high? Thinking of that, I noted a bulge start to form over my PT kit (ie. Commandos white T-shirt with a black short). I better walk quicker before being seen by anyone along the way.

Soon I reach Sir room, as usual I knock at his door before go in. As I still remember he scolded me that morning for not greeting him, I immediately walk in and loudly shouted “Good Evening Sir, Recruit reporting to sir for extra duty”. He seem happy with my performance, he smiled at me.  He just asked me to close the door.

After the door is closed, he asked “ how is my PT kit and underwear”? It kind of reminded me to dish him the plastic bag….“Sir, I have dried them”.  He seem surprised and asked again" my question is how is my PT kit and underwear… why recruit never reply me on that? How you expect me to train you without knowing your feeling?“ I was confuse and give him a blur look.

He slowly walk over and take over the plastic bag, seem to inspect the items inside. As I have dried them, I feel confident that he should be satisfy when he inspect them. Sir suddenly took out that jockstrap and cup it over my nose/mouth and grab my both hands from my back… it is like a kidnap scene and the kidnapper feeding the victim with a cloth filled with Chloroform. I am initially very panic but sir quickly whisper over my ear "Relax… relax… my body is at the back supporting you… slowly breath in”.  His words seem so powerful, the panic feel immediately disappear, instead my cock grow so hard which I never experience before.  Shouldn’t that be the horrible pungent smell, why would I get hard?

Sir whisper “ haha boy, this is smell therapy.  You want to learn right? I will train you to enjoy smell and make you a underwear slut. I passed you my PT kit and moist jockstrap is for you to enjoy. Haha you are such a cute innocent boy, never mind I am sure I will able to make you enjoy the process. Wear this jockstrap now”. 

With all the sweet words, I just obediently follow, undress myself and put on his white Bike brand jockstrap. I never wear a jockstrap before, not to say wear someone else used underwear. But surprise me, the feel is so good, it seem so season and the thick band makes it feel so fitting. Only uncomfortable part is the butt, feel so empty. He push me to nearby mirror…I look so naughty in it but it look great on me as it is able to secure my growing cock nicely.   Next he whisper over my ear “ This jockstrap will be worn by you until you meet me tomorrow. The red OCS PT kit is for you to wear when you report to me, as you are under training, you are my Cadet now, understand?”

Wooo… so kinky, I always want to be an officer but just not hard working enough to get into OCS. Hence I just get more excited and answered “Yes Sir, Cadet will follow Sir order”.

He seems happy and ordered me to pack up and go back as he needs to rest early as tomorrow he needs to wake up early for the Unit yearly firing competition (ie. part of the Annual Best Unit Award). Same for me, I need to wake up too, as I will be issuing them with the store items for the Firing Range. Not sure whether I will be able to sleep with the butt-less underwear.

Ring….Ring…Ring…..

Is 4am, I do have a good sleep in Sir jockstrap, the cock is still hardon. The temperature outside is so cooling and nice if I can continue to sleep. But knowing my mean officer and unit personnel will be mad if they can’t draw their store in time, I better dress up and go to the Store.  As usual I am in my Commandos white t shirt and black short (of course with Sir’s jockstrap underneath). I am early, I reached the Store but others are not there yet. Hence I just open the door and sit there to wait for them. It does not take long, those “Siao on” Commandos start to shout here and there while drawing their stores.  Soon, I noted my ideal officer walking over. He is that handsome as always, today he even put on a camo army scarf over his neck.  I am so happy to see him and quickly greet him “Morning Sir”. He smiled back and walked towards me.

He followed by asking me “Recruit, where is my store items?” I am confuse, I don’t recall he did request for any store. Oh no, likely have forgotten about it…die, likely will be scolded by him again. He quickly said “Recruit, those items are at the back of the store… let me bring you over”. His arm over my shoulder and kind of usher me to the back of my store. I feel so panic and bad and immediately apologize to him as I did not recall the need to prepare anything for him. He took a quick look at the surrounding and noted no one is around and he immediately force his hand inside my short to touch my cock.  He whisper over my ear “Good cadet, you did follow my instruction and I can see you have enjoyed my dirty jockstrap”. I was shocked but also glad that I am not that forgetful after all. Before he walk out, he whisper over my ear again “let hope today is a warm and hot day, so that I can prepare a more dirty and moist jockstrap for you… haha…”

Wooo… those words was so kinky but I feel so slutty, I do like it and immediate feel the hardon again.  Those smell is addictive, I do feel like pulling my jockstrap out and sniff on them. But as I am a good “cadet” now, I should follow sir instruction, I should not remove it until I report to him this evening. This time, the clock seem to run very slowly… I am like a drug addictive waiting to get my “sniff” from Sir. In order to kill time, I tried to experiment putting my yesterday used undie over my head, but the smell like not so good and I don’t seem to enjoy. Hence I just spend the rest of the day googling the Web to learn more about such fetishes, gears and jockstraps.

That day the weather is good and the firing range ended much before the scheduled timing. While I am googling for more kinky stories, picture and video, the Unit is back from their firing range. By 4pm, all the items are returned back to the Store. I take a quick store-count before locking the Store and go back to my bunk. Haha I need to mentally prepare myself for the “extra” duty by my Sir. Suddenly I noted I have an issue… how am I going to report in the red OCS PT kit? I am not an officer, and if I wear that and walk pass the parade square, surely someone will see it. If I don’t report it in, Sir will surely mad with me for not being obedient. Time is up, I need to go… still confuse, I can only bring the PT kit inside a plastic bag. After I knocked Sir door and proceed to go in, I quickly requested sir to give me a minute to change into the PT kit.

Sir is sitting on his bed and watching me doing “change parade” for him.  After I am done, he shouted “ Come over! You seem to be asking for punishment?. "  I quickly rush over and put my hands over my back and waiting for his further scolding.  He scanned me up and down and suddenly he forced his hands into my short again. He grab my cock and his face start to change… he smile and said ” Cadet, you seem to enjoy my jockstrap? Is so wet there… haha…“ I am shocked, likely I have pre-cummed a lot in the afternoon when I surfed the internet for such kinky stories and picture/video. I feel so embarrassed and lower my head. Next, Sir order me to undress him. He is still in his no.4 that he wear to range that morning.  I quickly remove his camo clothing … they are wet and smelly… or should I say a strong manly smell. When I unbutton his pant, I noted he wear a Blue jockstrap with a Yellow band, it looks ever more yummy than the white one that I am wearing. Sir seem to have been observing me when undressing him, once I am about to remove his jockstrap, he brush my hands off and said "Cadet, you seem hungry to take your daily dose of Sir smell. Tell Sir how badly you want it?” I was a bit blur as to what should I say… but suddenly recall those blogs that I read that afternoon. I quickly reacted “ Sir, yes Sir.. cadet need Sir jockstrap… please feed Cadet with it…please Sir”. Indeed it excite him and he immediately strip it off and cup the crotch area over my nose. Oh not.. it smell so strong, it is also feel warm and musky.  I start to like his smell and find it very attractive. I closed my eyes and enjoying the sub feeling.  I guess I really like it so much now that I was not aware Sir has actually taken some tapes to secure this jockstrap over my nose. Soon my mouth and eyes are also covered by tapes.  And Sir seem to have carried me to his bed. He spread my hands and legs wide open like doing “Star Jump”.  As I am enjoying the smell, I did not struggle and let him do whatever thing.   When I have enough of the smell, I start to try to move my limbs then I realized Sir has tied my hands and legs to the four corner of the bed.  I try to beg Sir to release me but my mouth is covered by the jockstrap and tapes. Oh no, I am totally helpless now.  Suddenly Sir said “ Cadet, take a good rest first while I take my bath”. This further panic me as what happen if someone else come in? I try to beg Sir not to leave me alone but it does not seem to produce any sound.  That moment seems so long, but also kind of odd as my cock is super hard through out that period… what happen? Maybe this is what I read in the blog today, the sub that like the “helpless feel”.

Suddenly I hear the door open and then a hand start touching me all over…I try to struggle but my limbs are tightly secured to the four corners.  Finally a voice appear “Cadet, don’t worry, is me… just relax… you will enjoy”.  That sentence really helped as I know I am not exposed to others.  While resting, I start to enjoy the smell of jockstrap again. Sir seem to touch or pinch my nipples… it start to send mix signal to my brain.   Is it pain or horny feel… one moment I feel so painful, the next moment, I seem to crave for more.  He also start to edge and milk my cock.  I feel so high that it does not take too long that I start to shoot… I guess I have cum a lot as Sir seem busy wiping here and there.

After cleaning up, Sir also released me off the restraints. Next he pass me his towel and ask me to go and wash up. I followed and when I am back to the room, I noted Sir is laying on his bed in that blue jockstrap with yellow band. I feel embarrass as it might have stained with lot of my saliva when I was covered in it a while ago. I softly asked Sir “ Sir.. I am sorry, I have dirty it”. Surprise me, he follow by saying “ No, this is my pair of jockstrap.” Next he turn his body to pick up something from underneath his bed. It is another pair of similar jockstrap. Sir then kinky asked “ Cadet, this is yours… haha… you want it? Come wear it and come over to the bed”.

Woo… I am so excited and quickly release my towel and wear that jockstrap. Although it is wet with my saliva, but it feel so good to be in similar gear with my ideal sir and able to sleep besides him.  Sir grab my hand and whisper over my ear “Tonight you sleep here, I need a big Snorlax to hug”. I happily hug Sir back and doze off…Zzzzzz…

It feels so good to be hugged to bed by my ideal officer. The slutty me suddenly wake up around 3am and kind of miss the moment Sir tied me to the bed. As such I whisper to Sir’s ear that whether he can tie me to the bed again. 

He is waken up by me and don’t seem happy. Being a very strict discipline officer, he just stand up and setup a mobile bed beside him. Before putting me there, he put a collar on me and whisper “Notti Cadet, I guess I need to discipline you… you are a Slave now… no clothing for you.” Oh no, he immediately removed the nice matching Blue jockstrap from me. Next he push me to the newly setup bed and start securing my hands and legs to the 4 corners.  He also make me wear an eyes mask and ear plug. I totally lost the senses, a complete helpless feeling start to kick in. So naked and so helpless and no sense of time. 

It seems so long before Sir release me.  When I am released of my blindfold, I noted is already morning. I quickly apologize to sir and told him that I feel cold and scare … and I will be a good boy and will not be notti again.  He walk over and give me a bear hug and whisper “ No No… you have progressed quite well, soon you will be graduated from my training… haha. But today onwards, I want to give you some slave training."  He follow by saying ” From now on, you no longer wear underwear (ie. Go Commandos). And you should not wear even the red OCS Cadet PT Kit or the unit white Commandos T-shirt. I want you to feel you are a slave now… you can only admire Sir…haha….“

As instruction, I quickly rush back to my bunk and change up into no.4 pant and a green army t-shirt , without any underwear and rush down to the Store as I am getting late.  ….

It is tough day for me, I feel very uncomfortable… likely due to the green vest as it seem thick and hot. I quickly change into a green singlet, but it does not help too… I sweat and sweat. What wrong with me? Suddenly I noted the other changes is that I am not wearing any underwear. When I unbutton my no.4 pant to take a look, I noted my cock is hard and pre-cummed too. Poor cock, no clothing. I quickly pull my singlet down to cover it. The hard cock seem super sensitive to my singlet, when I slightly rub with it, I feel like cumming. Oh no, is so shiok and feel like masterbating now. But the look for green singlet and no underwear, make me recall Sir statement… I am a slave now, I can only admire Sir. Hence I quickly release my hand and button back my no.4 pant. Next I quickly divert my attention to my Store stuffs, hopefully I will not feel that bad after that.

Finally the tough day is over and time for me to report to Sir again. As I being told no longer able to wear the red OCS PT kit, I proceed to Sir room in my no. 4 pant and green vest. Just after one knock at the door, Sir opens the door and drag me in and closed the door behind me. Sir follow by saying “ I thought I did mention I am doing slave training and slave should not be wearing any clothing?” Upon hearing that, I immediately strip off my vest, boots and no.4 pant. Oh no, my dick immediately stand up … so embarrassing…gosh….

Sir just laugh and asked “Is slave horny? Should I make him more horny? But I am so tired today…” After which, he takes out those tapes from his drawer and start securing my hands together with it. Next he push me to the floor besides his bed and make me knee like a doggie.  I feel so small and vulnerable in front of him, but as he is the officer I like, I don’t seem to be angry, instead full of excitement as what is he "teaching" me today. He look so tall and huge when he stand directly in front of me. He still in his blue jockstrap with the yellow band. It looks so nice on him, the bulge is growing and look so yummy as it is at my eyes level. While I am looking at it, Sir released his cock out of the blue tiny cloth and start stroking it in-front of me. OMG he playing his cock, make me so horny and I start to understand what sir mean by saying slave can only admire master’s cock. In fact, emotionally it excite me a lot… I guess is another form of helpless feeling. Sir cock is around 6", not small for Asian male. It get red and thick when he rub and rub.  Suddenly Sir whisper “I am getting tired and maybe slave can be of good use now”.  Before I figure out what he means, he force open my mouth and push his red, hot cock into my mouth. I try to struggle as I never suck a cock before and cock is where urine come out, seem so unhygienic. I want to say no but as Sir cock is already in my mouth, is hard for me to pronounce any words. Instead Sir just hold tight of my head and keep rocking my head towards him.  Being no hands to push away and my mouth can’t pronounce any word, soon I give up on struggle, instead try to relax and help to serve my tired Sir. Surprisingly I seem to get into motion and enjoy his tools. When I suck him tightly, Sir moans and it greatly excite me. The more he moan, I suck it faster and tighter. Haha, not long Sir cum, he shoot a lot into my mouth. It is warm and salty but I just take it down my throat. Sir whisper over my ear “ Boi, you are indeed good at your oral job. I guess I no longer need my Osim massager, I will use you for the future.” I feel so honored as I am “useful” slave to my ideal Officer.

After Sir did a bit of clean up, he release me of the tape. Instead he bring out some ropes from his drawer and start tying me up. He whisper over my ear that he is going to do the bondage on me. Just a while, the ropes run all over my body and it looks great and feel good too. It is like a lady’s push-up bra, the rope cut horizontally over my chest and push up my chest muscle. My hands and legs are also tightly secured by the ropes.  Sir seem happy with his rope work and took some pic with his handphone. He know I am discreet, hence he immediate assured me that he will not take picture with the head. After a couple of photos taking, he start to rub my nipples and cock.  It does not take long to make me super horny and start moaning.  Sir look at my push-up chest muscle and seem attracted and start licking and sucking my nipples. Wooo… his tongue is good too, tease my nipples and make me moan like crazy. As he worry anyone might hear it, he stuff his blue jockstrap into my mouth.  After making me crazy up there, he move down to blow my cock. His mouth is like milking machine, making me so helpless and only able to fully surrender All my “milk” to that “milking machine”. Both of us feel so exhausted after cumming. He released me off the bondage and removed the jockstrap from my mouth. Both of us rested naked on the bed and doze off.

After a good night rest, I waked up around 6am. Sir already wake up and he has washed up and put on a sexy white trunk.  He noted I have wake up, he walk over and kiss me. it feel so good and loved, I am ready to be his slave forever, hence I asked “ Sir, can I be your slave forever?”

He paused for a while and say “ Cadet, you have completed your training.”

I follow by saying “ Sir, you are a good master, I am still a notti boy that need extended training.”

Sir paused again and say “But… but… I am in fact a sub too. I give you these few days of training as you threaten me to teach you.”

A sudden change of mood in the room, I just wear back my clothing and drag my feet back to my room.  Is Army life going to be boring again? 

************************* The End***********************************

[the-teacup-poisoner]

When [Diana Smart] got to know my brother he had been with Hadland’s for about six weeks, employed as a storeman. She thought him very quiet at first and not an easy chap to talk to or one with whom it was possible to have an ordinary everyday conversation. He had no fund of anecdotes or amusing stories—no small talk. He employed a lot of highly-literate words that Mrs Smart did not really understand and in her own words, “‘that put me off him”’.

Yet he intrigued her; she sensed something exceptional about him. He was, in an indefinable way, distinctive; not ordinary. He stood out from the other workers in the factory. He was clean, smartly dressed, well-spoken. But peculiar. She could not hope to define this peculiarity. It manifested itself in the fact that she could not stand face to face with him and talk—particularly in a matey fashion. It displayed itself, too, in the fact that he seemed excessively cool and detached—so much so as to appear completely unemotional. In her own words, he seemed “completely unfeeling”. A rum bird is how P. G. Wodehouse would have described him. But by and large, rum birds do not work in ordinary factories among ordinary people. People in factories may have their little ways, but usually they are just people; the kind of people who live next door and who are rarely, if ever, in any way exceptional.

Nonetheless, she could not help feeling sorry for him because she knew he lived in lodgings in Hemel Hempstead and had no one to look after him. He washed all his clothes at the local launderette and did the ironing himself. He seemed terribly lonely and there was something even a little pathetic in the sad little pride he took in his smart appearance. When she first noticed him he wore RAF-type black lace-up shoes and corduroy trousers and a dark green shirt with a green tie. Then he bought himself a smart military-style raincoat with buttoned flaps and when they accidentally met in a queue at a café in Hemel Hempstead, he asked her, “‘How do you like my new clothes?—do you like the raincoat?” and he seemed very pleased when she said, “Oh, yes, it’s lovely.”

— Obsessive Poisoner: The Strange Story of Graham Young, by Winifred Young.

[deeisace]

had to retype this one guy’s bit on the tree cs I kept forgetting occupations

final count is seven, over 40 years in two countries

Ah wait hang on

if he was in Philadelphia in 1910, he should be on the census.

...

he is not. the only one by his name from England is a jeweller, married with 3 kids in Hoboken NJ.

Unless he missed out on the date of the census?

he did!

june 1909, he arrived in Philadelphia from Liverpool, as a carter/labourer (alright, laborer, if I must spell it the American way), and then the very next record I have is of him arriving in Liverpool as a cattleman and leaving his ship there in 1910 - then 1911, he’s back in Leeds (the one in Yorkshire, where he was from, as opposed to the one apparently in Kent, or the 10 different ones in the USA) as a “fish and potato merchant” - a chippy man!

And then 1912, he’s back in America - a carter in Rhode Island - I’m not sure when he came back, except that his youngest daughter was born in Leeds (Yorkshire) in 1916, and he joined the RAF as a storeman in 1918

Ha! Okay I still have no idea when he came back after 1912

But!

His wife and their daughter Ivy, age 4 (tho not his older daughter by his first wife, Mary Ellen, age 7, named for her mum, who died in or with complications from childbirth in 1902) followed him to Philadelphia in 1909! He wasn’t just cavorting off!

Tho I am a bit sorry for Mary Ellen, left behind in England with her grandparents, I imagine

[heskynn]

When I first went on T my local surgery warned me that because there were only like two ppl in town who needed it there was a higher chance of it not being in stock at some point and as an ex-storeman who handled stock levels

That is

Bullcrap

And someone

Isn't doing their job

OF STOCKING MEDICATION

a fun thing about being on medication that carries warnings like 'if you suddenly stop taking this you might have effects that can range from feeling crummy to psychosis' is that the pharmacy will still go 'haha oopsie we forget to get those pills you order every single month, you can do without for a while right'

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[scotianostra]

15th January 1923 saw the birth of the wonderfully eccentric and very funny Ivor Cutler.

I first found out about the wonderful nonsensical wit of Ivor Cutler somtime in the early 80's. My best friend had the album, Life in a Scotch Sitting Room, Vol. 2 and he played it one day when we were vidsiting his mum in the North of England, I asked "Where is voliume 1" "There isn't one" was the reply, and after hearing this and the album, it actually made sense to me, you just accept it.

The poems and stories from the album were also published as a book in 1984. The album was recorded by Pete Shipton of Radio Clyde at the 3rd Eye Centre, Sauchiehall Street, Glasgow, on the 7th, 8th, 9th of July, 1977.

So who was Ivor?

Born Isadore Cutler in Govan, Glasgow, into a middle-class Jewish family of Eastern European descent. His father Jack Moris Cutler was a wholesale jeweller and had premises at 85 Queen Street. He cited his childhood as the source of his artistic temperament, recalling a sense of displacement when his younger brother was born: "Without that I would not have been so screwed up as I am, and therefore not as creative." And creative he was!

Ivor was educated at the Shawlands Academy.[4] In 1939 Cutler was evacuated to Annan. He joined the Royal Air Force as a navigator in 1942 but was soon grounded for "dreaminess", apparently more interested in looking at the clouds from the cockpit window than locating a flight path, and worked as a storeman. After the war he studied at Glasgow School of Art and became a schoolteacher.

Working at a school in Paisley, however, did not agree with Cutler. He hated discipline that required the strap, having received it more than 200 times himself, and in a dramatic gesture took the instrument from his desk, cut it into pieces and dispensed them to the class.

Leaving Scotland was, he claimed, "the beginning of my life". He settled in London for a time teaching music, dance, drama and poetry to 7- to 11-year-olds. Oh how I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall in on of his classrooms.

His dour recordings bely his existence growing up in Glasgow and seeing his peers arriving at school with bare feet - a fact which, he later claimed, helped form his leftwing political views, aged five - appeared in his hilarious writings, Life in a Scotch Sitting Room Volume 2. With lines such as "Voiding bowels in those days was unheard of. People just kept it in," he used a string of fantastical untruths to expose the reality of his life and the Spartan - and sometimes sadistic - Scottish existence.

He also taught for a time at A S Neil's Summerhill school. Dubbed a hippy academy where a different approach to education was fostered, Summerhill was run with rules agreed between staff and pupils, and the premise was to educate the whole person. This alternative philosophy appealed to Cutler. He lived in the grounds of the school. Ivor married for a time, but his parenting skills did not go down too well with his then wife, they had two sons, he sent one, on his first day at school wearing a kilt, I can see that going down well in England! His son remembers his father once taking him fake fishing,taking him out in the street, with a stick and bit of string and a fork tied on the end dangling in a puddle, being his fishing line, he also says "I couldn't say I was pleased when he felt the need to walk down the street with a carpet sample in place of a tie."

During the late 50's and into the 60's he mixed his teaching with that of entertainment, managing to secure a slot on Acker Bilk Show and Late Night Line-Up. On one such appearance he was spotted by Paul McCartney, who invited Cutler to appear in the Beatles' film Magical Mystery Tour where he played the bus conductor Buster Bloodvessel, and yes the lead singer of Bad Manners took his name from this and was also a fan of Cutler.

Through music, poetry and children’s books the songwriter, poet and “unjoiner” of thoughts perfected a brand of eccentric mischief that made him a favourite of many.

His absurdist songs – sung in dour Glaswegian tones with a wheezing harmonium for company – were an ever-present on John Peel’s radio shows, second only in rotation to The Fall. His darkly whimsical eye can be seen in contemporary British artists like David Shrigley and Martin Creed. And yet Cutler remains something of a marginal figure, known only to a devoted few.

For the latter part of his career, Cutler lived on his own in a flat on Parliament Hill Fields, north London, which he found by placing an ad in the New Statesman saying "Ivor Cutler seeks room near Heath. Cheap!". There he would receive visitors, and his companion Phyllis King, in a reception room filled with clutter, pictures and curios, including his harmonium, some ivory cutlery (a pun, of course) and a wax ear stapled to the wall with six-inch nails - proof of his dedication to the Noise Abatement Society, because of which he forbade his audience ever to whistle in appreciation at his work. The bicycle was his preferred mode of transport, its cow-horn handlebars in the sit-up-and-beg position in line with his Alexander technique practice.

He could quote from Homer, taught himself Chinese and was in the habit of frequenting Soho's Chinatown, where he could display his knowledge - although, typically, he chose Chinese above Japanese because the textbooks were cheaper. With the onset of old age he was increasingly worried about losing his memory, given that his father and brother had both developed Alzheimer's disease. It was a fear that was to be tragically fulfilled. He retired from the stage at the age of 82.

His main champion in the late 70's and 80's John Peel once remarked that Cutler was probably the only performer whose work had been featured on Radio 1, 2, 3 and 4.

Ivor Cutler died after a massive stroke on March 3rd 2006 aged 83.

I could no doubt find many stories about Ivor online but will give you some of his own whimsical word instead, first up is

Born Isadore Cutler in Govan, Glasgow, into a middle-class Jewish family of Eastern European descent. His father Jack Moris Cutler was a wholesale jeweller and had premises at 85 Queen Street. He cited his childhood as the source of his artistic temperament, recalling a sense of displacement when his younger brother was born: "Without that I would not have been so screwed up as I am, and therefore not as creative." And creative he was!

Ivor was educated at the Shawlands Academy.[4] In 1939 Cutler was evacuated to Annan. He joined the Royal Air Force as a navigator in 1942 but was soon grounded for "dreaminess", apparently more interested in looking at the clouds from the cockpit window than locating a flight path, and worked as a storeman. After the war he studied at Glasgow School of Art and became a schoolteacher.

Working at a school in Paisley, however, did not agree with Cutler. He hated discipline that required the strap, having received it more than 200 times himself, and in a dramatic gesture took the instrument from his desk, cut it into pieces and dispensed them to the class.

Leaving Scotland was, he claimed, "the beginning of my life". He settled in London for a time teaching music, dance, drama and poetry to 7- to 11-year-olds. Oh how I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall in on of his classrooms.

His dour recordings bely his existence growing up in Glasgow and seeing his peers arriving at school with bare feet - a fact which, he later claimed, helped form his leftwing political views, aged five - appeared in his hilarious writings, Life in a Scotch Sitting Room Volume 2. With lines such as "Voiding bowels in those days was unheard of. People just kept it in," he used a string of fantastical untruths to expose the reality of his life and the Spartan - and sometimes sadistic - Scottish existence.

He also taught for a time at A S Neil's Summerhill school. Dubbed a hippy academy where a different approach to education was fostered, Summerhill was run with rules agreed between staff and pupils, and the premise was to educate the whole person. This alternative philosophy appealed to Cutler. He lived in the grounds of the school. Ivor married for a time, but his parenting skills did not go down too well with his then wife, they had two sons, he sent one, on his first day at school wearing a kilt, I can see that going down well in England! His son remembers his father once taking him fake fishing,taking him out in the street, with a stick and bit of string and a fork tied on the end dangling in a puddle, being his fishing line, he also says "I couldn't say I was pleased when he felt the need to walk down the street with a carpet sample in place of a tie."

During the late 50's and into the 60's he mixed his teaching with that of entertainment, managing to secure a slot on Acker Bilk Show and Late Night Line-Up. On one such appearance he was spotted by Paul McCartney, who invited Cutler to appear in the Beatles' film Magical Mystery Tour where he played the bus conductor Buster Bloodvessel, and yes the lead singer of Bad Manners took his name from this and was also a fan of Cutler.

Through music, poetry and children’s books the songwriter, poet and “unjoiner” of thoughts perfected a brand of eccentric mischief that made him a favourite of many.

His absurdist songs – sung in dour Glaswegian tones with a wheezing harmonium for company – were an ever-present on John Peel’s radio shows, second only in rotation to The Fall. His darkly whimsical eye can be seen in contemporary British artists like David Shrigley and Martin Creed. And yet Cutler remains something of a marginal figure, known only to a devoted few.

For the latter part of his career, Cutler lived on his own in a flat on Parliament Hill Fields, north London, which he found by placing an ad in the New Statesman saying "Ivor Cutler seeks room near Heath. Cheap!". There he would receive visitors, and his companion Phyllis King, in a reception room filled with clutter, pictures and curios, including his harmonium, some ivory cutlery (a pun, of course) and a wax ear stapled to the wall with six-inch nails - proof of his dedication to the Noise Abatement Society, because of which he forbade his audience ever to whistle in appreciation at his work. The bicycle was his preferred mode of transport, its cow-horn handlebars in the sit-up-and-beg position in line with his Alexander technique practice.

He could quote from Homer, taught himself Chinese and was in the habit of frequenting Soho's Chinatown, where he could display his knowledge - although, typically, he chose Chinese above Japanese because the textbooks were cheaper. With the onset of old age he was increasingly worried about losing his memory, given that his father and brother had both developed Alzheimer's disease. It was a fear that was to be tragically fulfilled. He retired from the stage at the age of 82.

His main champion in the late 70's and 80's John Peel once remarked that Cutler was probably the only performer whose work had been featured on Radio 1, 2, 3 and 4.

Ivor Cutler died after a massive stroke on March 3rd 2006 aged 83.

I could no doubt find many stories about Ivor online but will give you some of his own whimsical word instead, first up is

Born Isadore Cutler in Govan, Glasgow, into a middle-class Jewish family of Eastern European descent. His father Jack Moris Cutler was a wholesale jeweller and had premises at 85 Queen Street. He cited his childhood as the source of his artistic temperament, recalling a sense of displacement when his younger brother was born: "Without that I would not have been so screwed up as I am, and therefore not as creative." And creative he was!

Ivor was educated at the Shawlands Academy.[4] In 1939 Cutler was evacuated to Annan. He joined the Royal Air Force as a navigator in 1942 but was soon grounded for "dreaminess", apparently more interested in looking at the clouds from the cockpit window than locating a flight path, and worked as a storeman. After the war he studied at Glasgow School of Art and became a schoolteacher.

Working at a school in Paisley, however, did not agree with Cutler. He hated discipline that required the strap, having received it more than 200 times himself, and in a dramatic gesture took the instrument from his desk, cut it into pieces and dispensed them to the class.

Leaving Scotland was, he claimed, "the beginning of my life". He settled in London for a time teaching music, dance, drama and poetry to 7- to 11-year-olds. Oh how I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall in on of his classrooms.

His dour recordings bely his existence growing up in Glasgow and seeing his peers arriving at school with bare feet - a fact which, he later claimed, helped form his leftwing political views, aged five - appeared in his hilarious writings, Life in a Scotch Sitting Room Volume 2. With lines such as "Voiding bowels in those days was unheard of. People just kept it in," he used a string of fantastical untruths to expose the reality of his life and the Spartan - and sometimes sadistic - Scottish existence.

He also taught for a time at A S Neil's Summerhill school. Dubbed a hippy academy where a different approach to education was fostered, Summerhill was run with rules agreed between staff and pupils, and the premise was to educate the whole person. This alternative philosophy appealed to Cutler. He lived in the grounds of the school. Ivor married for a time, but his parenting skills did not go down too well with his then wife, they had two sons, he sent one, on his first day at school wearing a kilt, I can see that going down well in England! His son remembers his father once taking him fake fishing,taking him out in the street, with a stick and bit of string and a fork tied on the end dangling in a puddle, being his fishing line, he also says "I couldn't say I was pleased when he felt the need to walk down the street with a carpet sample in place of a tie."

During the late 50's and into the 60's he mixed his teaching with that of entertainment, managing to secure a slot on Acker Bilk Show and Late Night Line-Up. On one such appearance he was spotted by Paul McCartney, who invited Cutler to appear in the Beatles' film Magical Mystery Tour where he played the bus conductor Buster Bloodvessel, and yes the lead singer of Bad Manners took his name from this and was also a fan of Cutler.

Through music, poetry and children’s books the songwriter, poet and “unjoiner” of thoughts perfected a brand of eccentric mischief that made him a favourite of many.

His absurdist songs – sung in dour Glaswegian tones with a wheezing harmonium for company – were an ever-present on John Peel’s radio shows, second only in rotation to The Fall. His darkly whimsical eye can be seen in contemporary British artists like David Shrigley and Martin Creed. And yet Cutler remains something of a marginal figure, known only to a devoted few.

For the latter part of his career, Cutler lived on his own in a flat on Parliament Hill Fields, north London, which he found by placing an ad in the New Statesman saying "Ivor Cutler seeks room near Heath. Cheap!". There he would receive visitors, and his companion Phyllis King, in a reception room filled with clutter, pictures and curios, including his harmonium, some ivory cutlery (a pun, of course) and a wax ear stapled to the wall with six-inch nails - proof of his dedication to the Noise Abatement Society, because of which he forbade his audience ever to whistle in appreciation at his work. The bicycle was his preferred mode of transport, its cow-horn handlebars in the sit-up-and-beg position in line with his Alexander technique practice.

He could quote from Homer, taught himself Chinese and was in the habit of frequenting Soho's Chinatown, where he could display his knowledge - although, typically, he chose Chinese above Japanese because the textbooks were cheaper. With the onset of old age he was increasingly worried about losing his memory, given that his father and brother had both developed Alzheimer's disease. It was a fear that was to be tragically fulfilled. He retired from the stage at the age of 82.

His main champion in the late 70's and 80's John Peel once remarked that Cutler was probably the only performer whose work had been featured on Radio 1, 2, 3 and 4.

Ivor Cutler died after a massive stroke on March 3rd 2006 aged 83.

I could no doubt find many stories about Ivor online but will give you some of his own whimsical words......... first up, here’s some wise advice from Mr Cutler.

5 Wise Saws

1. Do not kick a grocer on the leg.

2. If you kick a grocer on the leg, make sure it’s not a green grocer.

3. If you throw a ball, it moves in the air.

4. You can not erase a love letter with a nipple, no matter how rubbery.

5. If you empty your bowels at night, a shepherd will have a red face in the morning.

Life in a Scotch Sitting Room, Vol 2 Episode 6.

’Scotland gets its brains from the herring,’ said Grandpa, and we all nodded our heads with complete incomprehension. Sometimes, for a treat, we got playing with their heads; glutinous bony affairs, without room for brains, and a look of lust on their narrow soprano jaws.

The time I lifted the lid of the midden on a winter night,   and there,   a cool blue gleam – herring heads . . .  Other heads do not gleam in the dark. So perhaps Grandpa was right.

To make sure we ate the most intelligent herring, he fished the estuary. Planted a notice, ‘Literate herring this way!‘ below the water-line at the corner where it met the sea. The paint for the notice was made of crushed heads. Red-eyed herring, sore from  reading, would round the corner, read the notice and sense the estuary water, bland and eye-easing. A few feet brought them within the confining friendliness of his manilla net and a purposeful end.

There was only one way to cook it: a deep batter of porridge left from breakfast was patted round and it was fed on to the hot griddle athwart the coal fire. In seconds, a thick aroma leaned around and bent against the walls. We lay down and dribbled on the carpet. Also, the air was fresher. Time passed. In exactly twenty-five minutes the porridge cracked, and juice steamed through with a glad fizz. We ate the batter first to take the edge off our appetites, so that we could eat the herring with respect. Which we did,  including the bones.

After supper, assuming the herring to have worked, we were asked questions. In Latin, Greek and Hebrew, we had to know the principal parts of verbs. In Geography, the five main glove-manufacturing towns in the Midlands, and in History, the development of Glasgow’s sewage system.

There’s nothing quite like a Scotch education. One is left with an irreparable debt. My head is full of irregular verbs still.

[crowcaws]

Our new storeman who has been completely 100% Australian his entire life inexplicably writes dates mm/dd I'm going to hit him with a forklift

[mood2you]

It's all in the title! Not Lead Storeman not Lead Storeage Room Mistress. Lead Storeroom Person.

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