Posts Tagged ‘about Nikki Nines’
Don’t get too excited, grunt. It’s Nikki Nines here, moving over older posts from the old blog. I’ve put it off long enough; Blogger’s forcing the issue by discontinuing their FTP option.
Anyway, here’s some “classic” Nikki Nines:
Gracie of Sex-Kitten interviewed me; and that’s likely as much as you will ever know about Nikki Nines.
Haunt Hunt, But No Goth Cunt
Posted by: Darling Nikki Nines
May 17th, 2010 >> Darling Nikki Nines, The Art Of BDSM
I’ll admit a certain kinship with ghosts and legendary creatures — as well as those who hunt them. I have a fascination with the thin walls of this world — or more accurately, their parting. I enjoy watching where they rip, and peering past such improbable, flimsy, restraints into what lies beyond.
I love where science meets faith and they challenge one another, head on; but unlike like rams at rut, the challenge is more probing and filled with awe. It’s like sex. Like good sex.
I like questioning what’s here as well as what is, if anything, beyond; and I aspire to create or recreate such possibilities for myself.
But I am no latitudinarian when it comes to the current use of the word “Gothic” and have even less use for those who call themselves “Goth”; for the most part they’ve taken all the quest, questioning, and longing out of it.
Gothic isn’t all dark pessimism; like the architecture, the true philosophy of “Gothic” reaches for the heavens.
More than a stone skeleton of columns and flying buttresses, the arches and spires orchestrate and conspire exploration of limits, suggesting a soul, if not flesh.
Ogive arches simultaneously point to heaven yet acquiesce to the burden, directing the force & weight of the burdens of such an improbable reach. They are designed to both create the light & provide the structure. Thus the imposing structures are as uplifting as they are intimidating.
Spires, like the obelisks before them, were as much spears as prayers. Each spire a show of strength, a demand, an impotent quest… A phallus thrusting for admission, the aching alms of humanity constructed in entreaty and defiance. And wonder.
Lacking in spires leaves one emotionally, and literally, without aspirations. This is why, even when spires were lost quickly — within just a few short years crumbling & falling from their heights — they are etched in our minds. Their visual ambitions are recalled; remembered not for failure, but honored for the balls & glory to try.
When those self-described Gothic persons only see or believe in “darkness” and “gloom” without reaching, without romance, they’ve made it as base as fucking.
It is true that you must omit light to have utter darkness; but to believe it is simple to do, to ignore the battle & dismiss the conquest is folly. Where light probes dark, where dark resists & envelopes light, where one forces the other to give way and submit, this is where the beauty of possibility lies.
Simply starting from, or existing only in, darkness is to miss the the contrast, the interplay.
slivers of light, shivers of delight
despair in the dark, declare in the dark
When people forget to reach for (let alone acknowledge) the light, they miss the beauty. But I thrill at such purpose of discovery.
I find it stimulating how the unknown curls into a ball to protect itself from the parry and thrust of intellect, how beauty cannot be dissected & replicated as the sum of its parts, how seeking is as much about the love & adoration as it is the desire to know — it must be, for we know we are doomed from the start. We are either doomed to remain ignorant, doomed to our discoveries and have the magic removed, or doomed to only have more questions. We know this, and yet we continue anyway.
I arouse at the intercourse of light and dark, finger tips of one penetrating the other, in the push-comes-to-shove exploration of faith and science in the pursuit of truth… Where force may oft be best plied as a reverent whisper, and the brute force of denial may result in our own scream of anguish. And either may be the surprising key to open the door.
This is why I like power play, power exchange, BDSM, whatever you call it. It’s probing, challenging, illumination, squelching… The twisting turns of our bodies and souls. The awe.
It’s where the spill of release may be as readily achieved by a soft moan in the ear as it is by a cruel word spate in harsh tones… a feathery touch on a tender place, followed by the hard crack of leather.
Tell me you “can’t come that way” and I’ll apply my knowledge of you, leveraging your grey matter as well as your physical parts at precise points, until I have you drooling like Pavlov’s dog from your genitals — the orgasm at the end of the world, rending the fabric of your reality.
For you, the sub, it is in the darkness of subspace that you find illumination, salvation, and the desire for more; the soft grey veils part, exposing glimpses of additional mystery. For me, the Domme, a chance to regain, however slight, access to the very same. Even if only in my subs eyes and sighs…
Oh, heavens — this devious angel has long missed you.
I continue to reach.
Gothic BDSM images by Vlad Gansovsky.
Myths Of The Nines
Posted by: Darling Nikki Nines
February 17th, 2010 >> Darling Nikki Nines, Photos
Generally speaking, the “Nines” in Nikki Nines refers to the idea that standard measurements of availability can be misleading. This alone leads folks who hear me speak so call me a geek — a name tag I wear with pride — and believe that this is why I’ve named myself with the number nine.
But then there are the other aspects of my life which lead many to guess at the meaning of naming myself after a number. Some think that “Nine” is for my guns (9mm, the number in my collection etc.). Others think that it’s the age I was when my mother died. A few think it’s my adoration of Nikki Sixx which lead to my numeral naming. My choice to keep mum on my private life and my career requirements to do the same (my work also being the matter of choices made) leads to even more speculation…
Among other things, I’ve been accused of being an assassin (if I were, could I admit it?), a model, a bounty hunter (or other hunter/tacker), security detail for celebrities (with my love of music and musicians, typically in said industry), an IT pro, an (unsuccessful, reclusive) artist, a lawyer, an anthropologist, and a criminal profiler.
I’ll neither confirm nor deny any of this. I merely point it out to say that the myths of Nikki Nine are plentiful — and to illustrate that nearly every guess (& its explanation) has to do with intimidation and/or a “lone wolf” personality. Just varying ways of saying I’m unapproachable, even in the underground circles I travel. And this is rather my point — why I’m about the nines.
The measurements of availability can be misleading.
Born in 1984, I may or may not have been named Nikki after the Prince song — but I do have some things in common with the song:
I knew a girl named nikki
I guess u could say she was a sex fiend
I met her in a hotel lobby
Masturbating with a magazine
She said howd u like 2 waste some time
And I could not resist when I saw little nikki grind
She took me 2 her castle
And I just couldnt believe my eyes
She had so many devices
Everything that money could buy
She said sign your name on the dotted line
The lights went out
And nikki started 2 grind
Nikki
The castle started spinning
Or maybe it was my brain
I cant tell u what she did 2 me
But my body will never be the same
Her lovin will kick your behind
Oh, shell show u no mercy
But shell shonuff shonuff show u how 2 grind
Darlin nikki
Woke up the next morning
Nikki wasnt there
I looked all over and all I found
Was a phone number on the stairs
It said thank u 4 a funky time
Call me up whenever u want 2 grind
Oh, nikki, ohhhh
Come back nikki, come back
Your dirty little prince
Wanna grind grind grind grind grind grind grind grind grind
{backwards at the end…}
Hello, how r u? Im fine. cause I know
That the lord is coming soon, coming, coming soon.
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