Sunday, July 26, 2009

That Place

I know of a Place

A Place, where women do terrible and cruel things to each other.
Things no male could ever imagine, nor could he endure.

It’s a Place, where the ultimate torture, and the ultimate tenderness,
Are melting together into one incredible act of love.

A Place, where the hidden desires of the flesh, the forbidden
Feelings of lust, are meeting the fantasies of the mind, and seamlessly
Are welded together, forming an unity, never to be broken again.

I know of a Place

A Place, where boots, leather and rubber garments,
Iron collars and chains, are not just that. They are the skins
Of animals, the juices of plants, and the ores of the
Earth, clinging to our bodies, uniting, synchronizing,
And synergizing with us.

It’s a Place, where the branding is not merely
A way of torture. It’s the symbol of power,
Representing the sun, the fire of life.

I know of a Place

It’s the Place of the Deva’s. It’s their place on this earth,
Where wisdom and lust, pain and pleasure, evil and love,
Are measured in terms of the bending universe,
Embedded in the microcosms of their bodies and minds.

A Place of encountering soul mates, combining
Seemingly paradoxical extremes into one
Powerful singularity, where one moment in time,
Is all time. Hyperbolical time.

I know that Place, cos it’s my place!
And that of my sisters.

It’s also the place, where men are suffering
Under our boots, deep down in the Labyrinth,
Receiving the lashes of despotic women, who are
Just laughing at, and ridiculing the species
That wants so desperately to be our slave.

But once in a while
A miracle occurs.
Then one of those slaves
Becomes a soul mate as well,
And he belongs to us,
Is one of us,

Two comments from the 360 days i want u to read here, One from an Austrian lady, Gomorrha, who i found quite special, although we broke up, and my reply on hers.

G: *giggles* i almost pity you. such beautiful, atmospheric writing and then...
it looks like you are on an entirely different level and people try to grasp a tiny wisp of the meaning behind your words. they try to reflect you to please you. very entertaining. which type of devas are you then? that word is used in different ways and meanings. and i am curious.
A: We r not a 'type' lol. We r women in our own right, and yet refuse to carry a label. We leave that to others, who’ll never cease to label us.

Ur right, it is used in many ways and meanings, cos people lost connection to the original ones. Due to the very nature of deva, it’s difficult to describe same, without damaging the essence of it. Deva is rather a feeling, an emotion, and most of the times not really tangible, It’s a feeling of intense connection to others, of freedom, of standing alone, of having disconnected from vanilla values, norms, and paradigms. Even when trying to explain this to u, i feel i’m not touching the core of it. Maybe this will do: It’s like burning ice.

Tuesday, July 21, 2009


Trust and more trust. Everything revolves around trust. Very essential that. One can feel so safe when there's trust no? Oh yes, there's nothing more appealing/rewarding than slavery the consensual way, the structured way, the agreed upon way, the contracted way, the……….safe way. God save the Queen, and Goddess save the Slave. Brilliant!

Picture urself: Bound, hooded, and helpless. Then u hear her coming, that cruel lady u were longing for all of ur life, to become her slave, her doormat, for her to do with whatever she would like. U vowed u would die for a woman like that. No question about it. And now u r here. With her.

Ur heart is racing. Ur blood vessels hardly can take the pressure, pulsating in agony. U feel a weakness to ur knees. But u will stand tall. U r a man, a slave. A slave to this magnificent and terrifying creature, ur Goddess. This is ur day!

U r mega turned on now. U lost all control. U surrendered. U r owned.

Her rubber gloved hands start exploring ur naked and vulnerable body, mercilessly grabbing ur rock hard cock, squeezing and massaging same till it feels like surgical steel. Heaven is upon u. U want to come. But u restrain urself. Not yet, not yet. Later, later. This can’t stop now. This must continue first. This is what u want. This is what u would kill for.

Then something cold is pressed against ur bursting shaft. U realize it's that razor sharp knife she's always carrying with her, always hanging from that 4" wide black leather belt she’s mostly wearing, and which is accentuating that incredibly sexy waist u adore so much.

Like a flash of lightning a question pops up in ur enchanted brain: “What the heck she’s going to do with that knife?” But u r not alarmed. Not even by the thundering thunder which preceded the flash. Oh no. Not u! Far from it. After all, this saint of a woman promised u to take u to church this coming Sunday, as her slave, leashed, for all to see. U r convinced. She’s harmless. Ur cock is throbbing again.

She's increasing the knife's pressure now, pressing her body heavily against urs, giving u a taste of her voluptuous breasts, and the leather that's tightly encasing them. Ur getting even more aroused now. U r bursting from lust, although u r quivering too. She forces one of her gloved fingers into ur mouth. Eagerly u start sucking on it, tasting rubber and blood. Blood? Yes, ur blood! But u don't worry. U don't panic. U feel totally at ease. No fear is bothering u. No doubt either. What bad things on earth could ever happen to u? Nothing at all! U r completely safe. U have a contract. U agreed upon role play. Nothing else. All this is just a game, not real. It’s only an act, and a delicious one at that. Like u, this woman is only playing. In Goddess u Trust.

Then, suddenly, there’s that other smell. Chloroform, coming from a cloth clinging to the rubber gloves of ur adored tormentress, ur angel, the one who so often took ur breath away when u were watching that lean, leather clad body of hers, coming ur way, like a predator moving towards its prey, her long bluish black hair dancing on the rhythm and sound created by the heels of her supple crotch high leather boots.

Mesmerized and satisfied u struggle a bit, but then happily cooperate with ur owner, and deeply inhale what’s forced upon u. With a smile on ur face, hidden by that thick rubber hood u love and hate so much, u doze away, like a new born baby, assured that all is good, and all is well.

When u wake up, a strange feeling is encompassing ur body and soul. A feeling u never experienced b4 with ur Goddess. It feels like pain, horrifying pain. And then it comes to u, and u just know..........something is missing, something is gone. Forever!

But her sweet sensual metal voice, still lingering in ur brain, is whispering: "All is good, all is well".

Sunday, July 19, 2009

Static Poetry

As can easily be deducted from this site, and elsewhere in Cyberspace, i love poetry. Poetry can reveal the soul. Poetry can revolutionize. Poetry can awaken. Poetry can unite generations of people from eras wide apart. That's why fascists, dictators, people suffering from xenophobia, and other closed minded ones, r afraid of poetry, hate it, and censor it.

As with most spectacular, majestic, and mind blowing phenomena, created by humans, there r not only the attempts to silence them, but also the attempts to rape them, to disfigure them, and to take the beauty and essence out of them. I saw this done to femdom, to democracy, to art in general, and to poetry. The sad thing is, that this is done mostly by what we call, decent and good people, or what i prefer to call, clones, marionettes, or one dimensional liberated conservators, trying to preserve, and reinforce, paradigms, dogmas, norms and values of a certain society. Their poetry i call static poetry. It's poetry, where melodramatic sadness prevails, where delusional happiness is celebrated to no end, and where a never to exist world is presented to us as if it were real, or could become real. This kind of poetry never criticizes, never goes into a discussion, never offers solutions, never goes into battle, never dares to descend to the depths of where the soul gets ugly, is never creative, and is never personal. On the contrary, it's all about peace, guilt, harmony, religious sin, patience, love, acceptance, repent, tolerance, pseudo pain, and denial of the harsh, violent, and unjust world we're living in. This poetry resembles a stinking pink swamp. No current there, no movement at all. Just a standstill, adored by rigid zombies, who believe they're life itself.

Cyberspace is infested with this crap. I'm a member of a few poetry sites like that. When i dare to criticize there, i'm ignored or censored, lol. Some of my former Yahoo 'friends' created such sites , and indulge together with their 'friends' in daily uploading and reading stuff which should be transported to a mean landfill instead. They feel like martyrs, suffering from everlasting frustration, unable to resist the attraction of safe masochism at home, sheltered heroism, and the support of their equally lousy peers. No wonder they're always praising each other. Well, as long as it doesn't cost them eh?

Here's a different one:

You move with limbs of snake,
Mind of ice, heart of coal,
Hurl hooks from your tongue;
You burn me with your eyes;

You destroy what bores you,
And leave a cloying perfume--
A scent of death in the air--
Still I crouch at your feet.


The first time this blog saw the light of day, it triggered a comment from my Elizabeth. She’s a crazy one, that one. Like me, totally smitten by and addicted to rubber riding boots (and ….um….a few other nasty things, although she claims to be the sweetest thing ever). I want u to read it, as well as what followed, lol.

E: I already admired you for your great exterior beauty, but now I can see that comes from an even more beautiful interior...I could love you for both, but I'll surely love you for the latter.

A: Now picture us, clad in shiny black mackintoshes, wearing our even more black rubber riding boots, strolling together in the Highlands of Scotland during rainy and stormy weather, enjoying the view when resting at the banks of Loch Ness, drinking some exquisite Laphroaig in Inbhir Nis, traveling later to Glencoe, where we will stay the night in the Ballachulish Hotel, forgetting all the crap this world is offering us on a daily basis.

E: Yes, I'm really speechless at this picture you painted, so incredibly adhering to my dreams. You certainly have, among your qualities, a sixth sense, like a beautiful female cat, to know that those are my favorite places in the world...That hotel in Ballachulish, on the bend right there before the warm, so intimate, especially with a goddess in rubber riding boots like you at my side, walking hand in hand...Who said that you can't reach heaven on this earth? I'd change only a small detail: my favorite is Glenfarclas 25 y.o.(LOL)

A: Now imagine this: We both take a mouthful (ok ok, half), then kiss and mix the 2, finding out how this blend tastes.Or shall we skip both, and just switch to the queen of queens: Macallan? Maybe a bit expensive, but not expensive enough for two priceless women.
One step further toward ur heaven would be, to pour this nectar in a sweaty boot, then drink from it?

I Love Poisonous Love

Wine knows how to adorn the most sordid hovel
With marvelous luxury
And make more than one fabulous portal appear
In the gold of its red mist
Like a sun setting in a cloudy sky.

Opium magnifies that which is limitless,
Lengthens the unlimited,
Makes time deeper, hollows out voluptuousness,
And with dark, gloomy pleasures
Fills the soul beyond its capacity.

All that is not equal to the poison which flows
From your eyes, from your green eyes,
Lakes where my soul trembles and sees its evil side...
My dreams come in multitude
To slake their thirst in those bitter gulfs.

All that is not equal to the awful wonder
Of your biting saliva,
Charged with madness, that plunges my remorseless soul
Into oblivion
And rolls it in a swoon to the shores of death.

Et pour les connoisseurs .................................

Le vin sait revêtir le plus sordide bouge
D'un luxe miraculeux,
Et fait surgir plus d'un portique fabuleux
Dans l'or de sa vapeur rouge,
Comme un soleil couchant dans un ciel nébuleux.

L'opium agrandit ce qui n'a pas de bornes,
Allonge l'illimité,
Approfondit le temps, creuse la volupté,
Et de plaisirs noirs et mornes
Remplit l'âme au delà de sa capacité.

Tout cela ne vaut pas le poison qui découle
De tes yeux, de tes yeux verts,
Lacs où mon âme tremble et se voit à l'envers...
Mes songes viennent en foule
Pour se désaltérer à ces gouffres amers.

Tout cela ne vaut pas le terrible prodige
De ta salive qui mord,
Qui plonge dans l'oubli mon âme sans remords,
Et charriant le vertige,
La roule défaillante aux rives de la mort!

This was taken from Beaudelaire’s "Fleurs du mal"

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

Abandon Hope

“Lasciate ogni speranza ch'entrate.” Not that u will find it there, but it could be written on the entrance door to the corridor that leads to That Place, aka The Labyrinth. But the meaning would differ from Dante’s one. It would even be its opposite, as i find hope one of the silliest concepts of vanilla culture. Dangerous too. And debilitating. And crippling. And…….. well a lot of other things which basically r keeping u from being what u could be, and from acting like u should.

Hope is crushing ur potential to keep ur life in ur own hands, and to dictate ur own future. It’s paralyzing u, and makes u inert. It’s an error to believe hope could help u to overcome difficulties, problems, and desperate hours. It was implanted in u by anonymous forces operating in ur culture. U were indoctrinated with the thought that hope was good for u. In fact u were brainwashed with the idea that something outside u was meant to do all the work while u were expected to do nothing but…………….. hoping. Hoping for the best? Sure. But, at times, also hoping for mega misfortune cracking down on ur enemies no? Maybe ur neighbor? Ur mother? Me?

But why? Why were u poisoned with this venom called hope? Cos through all ages (well as far as i know eh) people hate it when a person is going his/her way, is walking a different road, is deviating from the norm. Cattle and clones r applauded and praised. Individuality is condemned. Oh sure, at times it seems as if society is stimulating diversity, is encouraging originality. But not really. It is done only to keep the stray dogs, at least figuratively, leashed, to keep them within the group, and to give them a feeling that, although the r loners, they’re still welcome, and still belong to the crowd. And it works u know, as even rebels seem to abhor getting abandoned by the ones they dislike and dismiss. Well………. at least some of them. Few r able to disconnect from their surrounding society, and truly follow a path through the jungle cut by themselves.

So………. u r allowed and encouraged to hope, to hope endlessly, as it will keep u from acting, and in bondage. Vanilla bondage!

But again. Why does this happen? Why is this repeated ad nauseam? It’s fear of the unknown, and fear of change. It is fear of low self-esteem, and to feel insignificant. It is fear of looking in the mirror, and realizing how small u became, how u messed up, how u threw away the most precious thing in ur life, how u were slaughtered on the altar of conformity, how u sacrificed ur potentials just to be allowed to stay in ur group, to be accepted by cattle like urself. Now u will fight to preserve this status quo. Oh, not by urself, not like a lone warrior, but only when backed by ur group. And they will, they will, they will. Just to make sure they don’t have to look into their own mirror. Holy war!

As long as everybody thinks and acts the same way, people believe that what they’re thinking is the truth, and that their actions r right and valuable. No reflection is needed in a situation like that. All is well and all is good. In fact, this is Utopia, that horrible world where differing from the norm is not tolerated. The law is the law, average is king, dogma is holy, and hypocrisy is the tool to go soft on those who rebel but not revolt. It’s that world where u feel uneasy, knowing something is wrong, filled with hope, hope that things will work out while waiting in ur comfortable chair, treasuring ur social security, ur stock portfolio, watching CNN, letting the atrocities of this world pass u by on ur plasma screen while sipping ur coffee, and hoping that someone hopefully will do something about it. But……it will be hoping in vain and waiting for Godot. In fact, u don’t even care. Although u say u r hoping for instance that the poor will be fed one day, that war will come to an end, and that girls one day won’t be stoned to death just for having laid eyes on an a boy who is culturally/religiously not supposed to be with them, u will go ur daily routine, and reserve hope for ur own missing links.

So, the ones who r allowed by me to walk through that corridor to The Labyrinth, they better abandon all hope, as there will be no place for that in That Place. In my place u r all alone, all by urself, totally independent with all power to be urs, completely free, even when chained by me, tortured by me, whipped by me, and abandoned by me without hope. U feel this is a contradiction? Maybe even a paradox. Illogical? Pathological too? Well, in that case……….don’t hope i ever will call on u.

Monday, July 13, 2009

On Male Dominance

“Hi! no dom males hey?”And then he continued with : "wanna persuade me?" Isn't that sweet? No it is not! So what is it? It's typical male! Always looking for competition, always ready to fight, always in need to be defensive. Hmmm, is this really typical for the male of the species? Yes it is, although there r plenty of females running around on the surface of mother Earth, who r manifesting an attitude and behavior more or less equal to that of their spouses, partners, friends, bosses, or subbie hubbies. It's called emancipation, one of the more laughable concepts cherished in desperate housewives circles. Yes i know, most feminists, recreational femdoms, and pro-dommes would be ready for the kill, passionately putting a contract out on me , fighting each other to drink legally from my blood after, if they would learn (as they did many times already), that i find them nothing more than willing clones of the patriarch.

This thing began with him announcing in his blog that he was a switch, triggering in me the comment, that this was impossible, as maledom doesn't exist and is only an illusion. I have put forward this many times, and the responses were always the same, and equally ridiculous. Sure there r dominant males. Without any doubt even, and way too many too. But......... only in the vanilla world, where their glorious dominance created many disasters, leaving behind a complete mess in many areas. Yessery, the male of the species can be extremely dominant the vanilla way. Kind of a King Kong way actually, with a lot of noise, brag, physical and mental violence, and other garbage. Underneath however, these men r just like that ape, rather insecure, quite emotional, unbalanced, and maybe even tender (the only way my Elizabeth would allow them to come near her, hehehe!), but.....they would poop their pants if someone would notice. Instead, they’re obsessed with standing tall, showing women and other males who’s the boss, etc. Just check out a few so-called world leaders, or ur local bar, and u’ll find them easily.

All this is still going on, and will continue for a long time to come.

So, to the naïve observer our planet is just crowded with dominant males. But when it comes to the realm of d/s, to my world of sexual slavery, these men cease to exist. Not so u say? Sure, sure, moi observed too: A lot of playing is going on on our sacred kinky grounds, during the weekend, when the kids r at grandmas, in fetish clubs, and in some isolated castle of a deranged baron. Mainly cos so many females r playing along with these Masters of the Universe, making it look as if some males r domineering within the d/s environment as well. More or less like it is with mainstream femdom, where submissive women r lured into playing the domina, by their topping from the bottom subbie (yuck).

The best these males can do in d/s is to make even bigger caricatures of themselves than they r already, presenting themselves as Masters (bang….. now don’t u dare to skip the capital M eh?), running around punishing females or their own buddies, organizing and attending to conferences on bdsm, visiting munches, discussing ad nauseam all kind of d/s issues, and seeking acceptance from other erring individuals, while suppressing even more their inner longing to be slave to a woman. I only allow these types near me when in the mood to show them how easily i can make them do my bidding, how easily i can make them crawl for me. Then send them home!

“Yes Ayesha, we know already. U can stop now! U r absolutely right. There r many vanilla male dominants, and plenty of fake dominant males in the velvet underground. But r u really sure, there r not at least a few males, only a tiny minority perhaps, who r genuine dominant when it comes to sexual slavery?” Hmmmmm, now don’t get me mad eh? I can tell u first hand, and only out of first hand eh, as i don't trust story telling so much, that i never have met a true male dominant in my life. All the Masters who crossed my path, and mind u, i've traveled a lot, were more than willing to become my slave, or didn't dare to resist me whenever i had set my mind to it. Even those who made me doubt my conviction fell for me in the end, at times stalking me long after i had dismissed them. So no……..there r no genuine, non-vanilla, dominant males. And there never will be any creatures like that either! When it comes to sex, males can only flourish when being a slave to a woman. Sexual slavery makes a male more powerful and free than he ever could be otherwise.

Btw, a switch can't be a dominant as per definition. One can't be a genuine dominant and submissive simultaneously. Switching from one mode to the other is only possible when one is acting like an actor, ergo is playing. I'm not a player. Femdom is carved in my soul, in my brain, in my clothing, in my whip, in my music, and all the rest of my being and life. I don't go into domspace, snapping out of it when a session (grrrr, what a horrible word) is over. Neither do my slaves dwell part of the day in subspace and the rest of the time in other spaces. That's how it should be, and how it should stay. That’s what d/s is about. A 24/7/365 passionate way of living. Nothing more, nothing less. And no role play whatsoever eh? Never. Period. Hmmmm.......i take that back. When i would want u to play a role, u'd have no other option than to obey! Even if that would be the role of a maledom, lol! Don't worry tho. I only would do silly stuff like that when cranky. Not when moody or so. Then i would simply let u drop dead, ignore u, and forget u even existed, not caring if/how this would affect u at all.

What's that? What do i hear? Ah....... i see. My definition is not holy eh? My view is not universal eh? It's simply an opinion, no? Everybody has the right to fill in whatever he/she likes, to suit that person's taste, no matter how stupid that taste may be, right? Go ahead. Exercise ur one dimensional democratic rights. I won't stop u. Make a mess out of d/s as well. Rape it, take away its essence, its glory, its venom, its passion, and make it mediocre, mainstream, boring, and dull. And mind u, keep it especially ssc (that’s safe sane and consensual, u moron). And whilst u r to it, why not put a few lawmakers to work, writing the Bill of Slave Rights? Soon there'll be a Slave Union to defend those rights and bring me, Ayesha, to justice.

Picture it. In the future, femdom will be a service to Emperor Slave and King Subbie. Hmmmmm.... in the future? It's here already lololol. Like the Other World Queendom of Master Male. But......... not in my place. And not where i go!

Don't get me wrong. I love males. Very much so. Well, i mean the ones who r going with the core of their being, the powerful ones, a.k.a slaves. But........ i love women more! Why is that? Plenty of reasons, but a major one is………they can take more, and whine less. And u know who r the biggest whiners of them all, the ones who can’t even take a softly administered caress of my single tail? U guessed it, smartass: Maledoms.

Thursday, July 9, 2009

Ἀποκάλυψις 4

It’s no secret: I hate fascism, (neo)-Nazism, and all that relates to it. During my time on Yahoo 360, i wrote 4 blogs related to filth like that. As i find it important to spread the word, mock, provoke, resist, and fight people who embrace this kind of shit or r trying to play it down, here they r again, bundled together now, unedited, and in the sequence they were published on 360.

Oh, and in case u r a bit like me, watch the video at the end, visit their website, and ….. well u decide what will be next!
Yersinia Pestis

I was roaming 360 today. Cruising it for a while. Visiting many sites. Reading quite a few blog entries, commenting on some. Good stuff, mediocre stuff, bad stuff, boring stuff, exciting stuff, hilarious stuff, and............... tons of filth. Nazi filth actually. It's disturbing to see how so many people r being attracted to ideas, thoughts, and activities belonging to one of the dirtiest and most objectionable eras humans ever created, suffered from, and went through. It's appalling to see that so many people r still craving and glorifying Nazism/Fascism, love to dress up like those criminals, feverish yell "sieg heil', embrace the slogans and propaganda of that period, and adore Hitler cs.

And don't tell me, all this is harmless, that all this is just fantasy, and that none of these people would even think of acting like that for real. I know better, as i'm quite familiar with this breed. Some of them even tried to convince me during the years, they would be on the forefront to fight Nazism and its brothers/sisters, if it would ever appear again. Yeah right! Once they would feel safe, they’d crawl out of their hiding places, and will follow enthusiastically their new fascist idol, patriotically doing their jobs in the new KZ-lagers. They're like the plague. No cure for it. Not yet!!

It was also nauseating to see how many people r having no problems whatsoever, to invite these people to their friend lists, to allow them sitting there, or accept invitations from them. I have to look in to that, to see if some of my 'friends' r affiliated to the ones i despise.

For me it's hard to understand why so many great, good, and ordinary people don't give a damn about this. Is this just another example of the indifference-plague, which seems to have infested so many souls nowadays? Or is it a result coming from the social/cultural law to be tolerant, have respect, and recognize the right of others to express themselves no matter what? Some people even expected me, to defend the right of KKK members and Neo-Nazis, to march and demonstrate. Yeah right!

It's sad.

Remember Martin Luther King? He once said: “We will have to repent in this generation not merely for the hateful words and actions of the bad people but for the appalling silence of the good people”.

So, let’s get to it then good people. Let’s get rid of this plague.


Just in case u forgot, 62 years ago, on January 27, soldiers of the Red Army liberated a few forgotten half dead prisoners of Auschwitz. The rest was gassed, shot, hanged, tortured to death, and.........well u name it, as long as it lead to their extermination, die Endlösing , so to speak. B4 they perished, many were tortured and experimented on. Remember Mengele? Of cors u do!

It's Holocaust Memorial Day, people. Reason for some neo-Nazis to set fire to a holocaust monument in the city of Verden in Germany. May they rot in hell! People tell me i should pursue love, and not hate, that i should forgive and realize how many good people there r on this planet. Even here, in our dear beloved Cyberia, they're trying to convince me, that it's wrong to go after these creeps, as it only would prove, we're like them, barbarians. And we certainly wouldn't want to be barbarians eh? Maybe that's the reason i saw not much mentioning of this Holocaust Memorial Day today? Maybe that's the reason, all the Poetry Blogs i visited, kept displaying their (often sugar sweet) poems of love and tolerance, as if there's nothing ugly going on in this world, even after the lesson of the Third Reich? Well, as far as i'm concerned, feed my share of that kind of love to the dogs!

Jimmy Carter
"Fundamentalism means the thinker is absolutely sure he is right. You don't want to learn new facts, because they might disturb your previous opinions. You become convinced that your truths have come from God and anyone who disagrees with you is wrong, and the next step is that they're inferior, and the ultimate case is, they're subhuman. That leads to a lot of the persecution in the world."
Ian Kershaw
"The road to Auschwitz was built by hate, but paved with indifference."

4 Poems

Barbara Kobos-Kaminska

You still see
her shining hair
interlaced in a braid,
her palm searching
for a palm's warmth,
her eyes trustfully looking
from the face of a child's fear,
when violently separated,
forcibly stripped off
her humanity
she stepped lonely
towards the termination
of her life.

A man in a dark hat
resembled my grandpa Simon
from an old photograph

I noticed the image of his face
in the pane of the rumbling train.
A tear stopped on his cheek
covered with life's wrinkles.

In his palm he clasped a small pebble.
Suddenly he did recall how
the body heat had been leaving
the freezing hand of his little daughter.

She froze to death in the winter of 1942
in a sealed cattle railcar
on her way to the gas chamber,
together with her sisters.

Nelly Sachs

O der weinenden Kinder Nacht!
Der zum Tode gezeichneten Kinder Nacht!
Der Schlaf hat keinen Eingang mehr.
Schreckliche Wärterinnen Sind an die Stelle der Mütter getreten,
Haben den falschen Tod in ihre Handmuskeln gespannt,
Säen ihn in die Wände und ins Gebälk —
Überall brütet es in den Nestern des Grauens.
Angst säugt die Kleinen statt der Muttermilch.

Zog die Mutter noch gestern
Wie ein weißer Mond den Schlaf heran,
Kam die Puppe mit dem fortgeküßten Wangenrot
In den einen Arm,
Kam das ausgestopfte Tier, lebendig
In der Liebe schon geworden,
In den ändern Arm, -
Weht nun der Wind des Sterbens,
Bläst die Hemden über die Haare fort,
Die niemand mehr kämmen wird.

warte ich auf dich
weit fort von den Lebenden weilst du
oder nahe.

warte ich auf dich
denn nicht dürfen Freigelassene
mit Schlingen der Sehnsucht
eingefangen werden
noch gekrönt
mit der Krone aus Planetenstaub -

die Liebe ist eine Sandpflanze
die im Feuer dient
und nicht verzehrt wird -

wartet sie auf dich –

Come, Enemies, Disperse Us

To honor the overwhelming response to "Shoah", i decided to add this wonderful poem of Alter Esselin to my site. The original was in Yiddish. The translation to English was done by his son, in cooperation with the father.

We molder in your flourishing land,
We who have been blessed and cursed
With a burdensome will-to-live
And the dream solace of the Mavier Yabok.
We have slender hands and Argus-eyes.
We've seen it all, and--all has flown away.
Glory and the conquest--not our bubbles.
We are Jobs, standing in ruins,
With a sharpened hypersense
Of the basic laws of life.

Our nerves vibrate like seismic signals
Telling of impending earth upheavals,
Yet there can be no dissolution
Of the ancient tribe;
There can be no destruction
Of its rich heritage.
Tribe of voluptuaries, ascetics and martyrs,
Tragic tribe of archetypes
With kitlen, thallisim and mezuzahs,
Followers of archaic, outlandish muses,
Fulfilling a parchment-yellow and pearl-gray destiny.

We are windborne, floating; we swim
Like oil-drops on secluded streams.
We cannot dissolve,
We cannot drown,
And your streams do not dry out.

To my Elizabeth, and all others who want to be my ally

There is no kink in Nazism! No matter how it expresses itself, no matter if it is lived as a fantasy or an attempt to create the Fourth Reich, there’s only filth in it. To avoid the next pogrom, the next razzia, the next holocaust, there must be zero tolerance for any display of it. We must reject and fight it, wherever we meet even the slightest sign of it, and crush its tiniest seed, wherever it tries to grow, even if it was on solid rock, or in stinking and rotten corners of Cyberspace. There must be no empathy, and no compassion, for people who say, they only cherish it as a fantasy, or harmless role play. The opposite, is like saying: ”Oh, the cancer is only small. It’s only sitting in my left toe, and hasn’t spread at all. So why worry?”

I know of a Jewish (!) man, whose fantasy it is, to be imprisoned in a concentration camp, craving to be tortured, dehumanized, and finally killed, by brutal female Nazi guards. I know of a woman, who’s getting wet, by fantasizing of babies and little children, being raped, tortured, and eaten, by Nazi butchers, in front of their parents. I can feel for these people, i can see their burden, but i’d never condone/defend their fantasy or behavior, and certainly they never could be my friends.

As Nazism, fascism, and totalitarianism, has developed many faces, and is exploiting many disguises, due to the fact that the use of these words became more or less outlawed in many parts of the world, there should be no doubt, it crawled back up from the sewers, under a variety of names. Just as it was once defined by Hitler cs, as a social movement, it is now alive under the flag of many democracies. Not only in Third World countries, but in so called high developed countries as well. It erupted in Africa, Asia, South-America, the USA, as well as in Europe. Even in one of Earth’s most democratic countries, the Netherlands, there exists a party, with representatives in parliament, which is leaning toward fascism. Of cors its members r denying this vigorously.

More than once i was accused, of only opposing Nazism in its purest form, and the atrocities resulting from it during WWII. Some of my prosecutors were simply trying to play down the horrors of Nazism, and trying to let me see what a hypocrite i was, for not addressing the filth that’s going on nowadays as well, others were just morons defending themselves for feeling attracted to Nazism, while only a small part was genuine in their remarks. Be that as it may, it should be clear, i’m opposed to any form of fascism/Nazism, no matter how it makes its appearance. That’s why, in the realm of d/s, i ridicule, laugh at, and am opposed to all the silly games, were punishment, degradation, and humiliation r celebrated, even when the participants r not in the Nazi-scene.

But it’s true, i decided to side with the Jewish people, and the gypsies. This inevitably brought, and perhaps will bring again, misery and sorrow to others, which saddens me, but never will stop me. Sometimes, it’s hard to live up to this decision, but i found it better, than to sit at the sideline, criticizing and commenting from my sheltered home, leaving the dirty work to the ones who went out to protect me and my people. Still, it’s my desire to avoid all this, and to never have to be involved with war and war-like activities again. Reason for me, to crush the ill seed of Nazism and its brothers and sisters, even b4 it sprouts. In here, and in r/l. It’s much better than to let it grow, and when it’s full blown , to have to go out there again, with tanks, planes, bombs, and a couple of reservists, who forgot how to fight and kill.

There is no kink in Nazism. Only filth.

All the roads led to death,
all the roads.

All the winds breathed betrayal,
all the winds.

At all the doorways angry dogs barked,
at all the doorways.

All the waters laughed at us,
all the waters.

All the nights fattened on our dread,
all the nights.

And the heavens were bare and empty,
all the heavens.

God hid his face.

Rajzel Zychlinzky


And i say to all narrow minded morons suffering from xenophobia, all those having the need to dehumanize others, all fascists and anti-Semites, all members of hate groups, and all other righteous ones, whoever they r, wherever they r, crawling on the surface of this planet, or hiding beneath it, don’t bother to find me, to come after me, and to destroy me, as i, the one who’s carrying all the genes that u hate so much, am already on my way to u. Herstory taught me not to wait. I’m the huntress now, and u r my prey.

One thing more for these people to know. I don’t believe in war anymore. I don’t believe war can bring solutions. I don’t fight countries, organizations or groups anymore. I go after individuals, the building blocks of this filth.

I have no drive to destroy. I hate violence. But the ones who can only survive by seeking a scapegoat for their own failures, destroying same in the name of whatever, i will send to their filthy ancestors nevertheless, the minute i smell their stinking personalities.

My brothers and sisters r those of Masada and Mila 18, not the ones who negotiate, work out compromises, or hide.

Then my Elizabeth said:

Yes, I feel that way too. We're not preys anymore, but huntresses. Gone are the days of Goethe said: Fear knocked on the door, I opened it...and there was nobody.

And i replied:
Now fear is knocking at some other doors, and u can rest assured i will be there when they open same.

Monday, July 6, 2009

Nanshakh's Story

Nanshakh is not only the best femdom artist ever, he's also a fabulous writer. Mr Modesty doesn't believe so himself, but he's a master with words. He, the master, told me time and again he's not as convinced as i am. Sometimes he's even complaining that his stories, essays, and articles r way to loooooong. Such nonsense! When one can compile prose like his, it's never to loooooong. But beware when he gets grumpy, feels offended, or is at war with the world, or me. Then pure venom is coming ur/my way.

Oh, b4 we go on, don't let the title below scare u, as the remainder of this blog entry is in good old english. It wouldn't hurt tho, if u would pick up a few more languages on ur way to ur grave eh?

And when he's mentioning "this group", he's of cors referring to the action - me - going on in for which group he once wrote this gem.

Anyway, here goes.


Les barricades mystérieuses

Imagine, this is the end of the seventeenth century, in some kingdom in western Europe. The setting: the ruins of a fortified abbey, probably the scene of some disgusting massacre when it was burnt and dismantled during some skirmishes. The place has always been abandoned ever since, and of course, rumours have it that it is haunted. Oh yes, i forgot, for atmosphere, put some appropriate music on, something like Couperin's 'Les barricades mystérieuses' (not that it's especially appropriate, but the title is). Now and then a half moon breaks through the low, fast moving clouds, making the remnants of arches stand gloomily above the layers of mist... and you notice the dark shapes moving stealthily amongst the ruins. At first, you're not sure, and a cloud plunges the scene in darkness again. Suddenly, in a ray of moonlight, you un-mistakingly spot sinister human shapes, draped and hooded in black. Glimpsed for a short moment before they disappear behind some stack of crumbled stones. Gives you the creep eh? Well, it should. I'm scared stiff already. Have i mentioned that there are some disturbing noises around you, unexplained, hardly perceived creakings and hisses and squeals, and then, a wolf is howling in the distance. Shudder. Maybe not such a big distance away actually...

But you go ahead. You are not scared by these mysterious silhouettes. It's your turn now to step out of the woods, and to walk straight through the mist, into the ruins. Others now walk alongside you, converging silently towards the same point. They don't seem to pay any attention to you, which is not surprising, since you too, you're draped in a long black cape, and your face is hidden under a high pointed black hood with only slants for your eyes. Just behind an arch, you find the steps going down into the ground, at the bottom of which a torch is spilling some reddish glow. Soon, you are walking with tens and tens of your companions, walking endlessly along a torch lit corridor that goes down... and down.... Only the shuffling of all the long black robes can be heard. Not a single voice breaks the silence.

After what has felt like a slow descent into some icy hell, you enter a huge crypt, huge as a cathedral, it's vaults so high that they disappear in darkness. Stepped rows of seats carved into the rock flank each side, and you can't help thinking of an army of ants as the silent black hooded shapes invades them.

Now the rows of seats are filled. You too have sat.

Torches seem to light up by enchantment at the end of the hall, discovering a massive stone stage, and a long narrow and steep stairway descending from the high vault straight onto it. In the absolute silent, all facing toward the stage, the attendance stands up while someone comes down. At first only her shapely legs are visible in the dim, dancing light of the torches, the sharp heels of the black boots clicking in the huge dark crypt. Then her sculptural figure appears fully. She is a slim, tall woman, dressed in a short black leather dress, with a large belt richly inlaid with gold and silver arabesques. Her hair is gathered in a high pony tail, held tight by a golden ring. She is not hooded, though her eyes are hidden by a slim black mask that allows you to admire her full red lips, curled in some cruel, smirking grin. She pauses at the bottom of the stairs, standing arrogantly, surveying her subdued, respectful audience, acknowledging their palpable apprehension. Hundreds and hundreds of members suspended to her will. Only her left hand is casually toying with the handle of a large bullwhip, resting on her shoulder. More a sceptre of her power than a whip.

At last, she walks to the sober, high, narrow monolithic throne-like seat, carved in black stone, that stands alone on the large stage. After she has sat, she imperceptibly nods, and all sit like one.

And though the silence has been oppressing till then, it still seems to grow, and grow... and keep on growing.

The hooded figures remain almost immobile... hardly moving now and then from one side to the other. Rather expectantly. But hours, yes hours, go by, and nothing happens...

Then one member stands up. For a while, the member looks taken aback by his audacity as all are turning on their seat to look at him. In some awkward, croaking voice, he dares to speak up at last: "Hi all, i... er.. i would like to thank you for allowing me into your secret society. I am.. er... this is a great honour and i'll participate a lot in future." Then he suddenly sits down, and one after another all the members resume their position, sitting solemnly. The silence now seems even heavier. As for the one who has dared to speak... it looks as if his black hood is blushing.

What seems hours later, another member stands up. This time it is a loud, booming voice resounding under the high vaults that start almost everyone: "Hi all, i have a password for secret society 'Hawk Queen' i want to trade for password for secret society 'Crushing Plum Pudding' or 'EscarpinsLickers', anyone interested?"

A thunderous wave of scandalised whispers ripples through the audience. Obviously a new member who ignores the iron rules of the secret society, or maybe has even deliberately chosen to ignore them?

Apparently impervious to what is happening around him, the guy goes on: "Come on buddies, no one's interested? Or, i'd even trade for a password for secret society 'La Cruelle'.

No more scandalised reaction now. Everybody knows the appropriate chastisement is about to be enacted. Those members sitting around the silly trouble maker are trying uneasily to shuffle away from him. And it comes. Without him ever noticing it. While the lady has remained perfectly still, sitting haughtily on her high chair, her pony tail has slowly risen behind her and is now dangling ominously high above her head, as some glittering black snake, pointing in the direction of the offender. He never saw it coming. With hardly a swish, a flash of greenish lightning links the tip of the pony tail to the top of the man's hood, and instantly his black robe and hood crumple down on his seat, empty, some greenish wisps of fume lingering where he stood.... There is only a murmur of assent in the audience.

An hour goes by before another member dares to stand.

"Hi all", a young joyful female voice: "I'm a new member, my nick is GoddessPinkishFangs and i'm a 22 years old cute hot blonde from Transylvania, I love your secret society and i'm glad to be here, sounds like fun eh? I'd like to invite you all to come to my new secret society, it's at http://secretsociety.Ooohey/KinkyPinkishFangsLair. Come on all, it's only 45 days away to the south east. Don't forget to indicate your blood type on your profile, otherwise no admittance !"

There is a fleeting moment of uncertainty in the assistance.... but no. No green lightning.

Maybe encouraged, another member stands up: "Enlarge your penis by 4 inches in less than..." Shazam..... greenish fumes.... This one will never have a chance to finish his sentence.

And the hours go by... but no more interruptions until the moment the beautiful lady with the whip stands up at last. All the attendance rises in silence, as she majestuously walks up the stairs and disappears. Then, without a word, all the members file out of the room. At last you come out in the open, as a faint glow at the horizon indicates the coming dawn. As silently and discreetly as they had appeared seemingly from nowhere, the hundreds of hooded figures scatter on the dark land...
Soon you notice a member still walking alongside you. This is becoming a bit annoying, because by now, you'd like to be able to take off your stuffy hood, but the rules are strict: total anonymity. So, not wanting to be rude, you keep walking, expecting he will soon take another direction. While the two of you are totally alone, all the other hooded figures having vanished out of sight, he clears his throat. "Er... sorry, dear fellow secret society member, but i'm a new secret society member, and i'd like to ask you a question, if you don't mind?"

Of course you're a bit taken aback by such boldness, typical of a new member that. But what the hell, after all, he is a member and this is a secret society, so what about brotherhood and all that...? "Why, yes, of course, dear fellow secret society member, i'd be glad to help, what is it?" "Is it always as lively as that?" You answer cheerfully: "A bit boisterous hey? well, you'll get used to it. You'll see, after a few hundred meetings, you'll be able to make out what people are trying to say in all that hullabaloo. I sure wonder why they insist on speaking all together like that. 'Seen what happened tonight? Three members speaking in one single session! amazing." "Er, i counted four actually..." "I was not including the one with the penis enlarger, he didn't even finish his sentence..." "Oh, i see, right." Your companion remains silent for a while. "No but i mean, seriously, er... there wasn't much being said, was there?" "Well, it's a secret society you know? members are bound to be a bit secretive.... what did you expect?" "To tell you frankly, i was expecting a bit more, in terms of communication you know?" He shuts up for a long while before resuming, in a somewhat halting voice, because of the pace you are walking. "You see, after all the initiation ; all those years of discreet probing ; and the months of trial, the long torture, the interrogations and whippings at the hands of those ladies -the high inquisitor would seem a choir boy compared to them-; the months locked up in a cage. And then all those ordeals before being sworn in at last... I must confess, this was my first meeting with the secret society, and i was expecting something extraordinary." "Aren't we all, my dear fellow? but keep trying. Give it a chance, there are some great things happening at times. You've seen that member sitting with a trident? well, he contributed very great stuff, and very good poetry too, very good, though he's remained a bit silent these last meetings. And you saw that other member, the one gagged and chained to the lady's boots? a slave of hers, she refers to him as first mate when she's in a good mood. He too contributes now and then. Although his messages tend to be a bit long at times, but i mean, looooooooonnnnng. So of course he has to be gagged occasionally. And there are others, many others. There is one, the oldest member of the society, who was already serving during Cleopatra's water skiing rallies, imagine that? Well, it's the same thing, hasn't been often heard of lately, he must have other things on his mind, but one can only hope that he'll participate again. Some ladies participated, Queen Ellen, the Mistress Claire, to name but a few, and then there was the ship logs-keeper, who seems to have got lost on some island. Some contributed stories, even novels... some got angry too... There are others, many others. Pfff, at least a dozen others, out of almost 5 thousands." "But that's it, thousands of secret society members and... so little life in there? "Don't let it fool you my friend, and don't, i insist, don't try to see what's under the hood of one of those silent members, not ever. It is a frightful experience, and you might never recover from it. They are not members, see. They are the "Silent Lurkers". If you did lift the robe of one of them, you would see.... nothing. There is nothing there. Just an empty robe and hood, mimicking the motions of a human. But in fact, an empty shell. Not even a ghost in there. They are there only to make it more anonymous, more secretive, for the few real members, so they can be immersed in the crowd... so my friend, do participate, you seem to be a real human being, made of flesh and blood." "But these.. er.. these Silent Lurkers, aren't they anything human, anything real?" "Well, you know, this secret society is very old. Once i asked the first mate, a day he wasn't gagged, or pretending to be very busy. He told me that those empty shells were once humans. But they never participated. Never ever. And it seems -mind you, this is a legend- it seems there is some ancient spell at work here. Those who never participate slowly fade into oblivion. Until there is nothing left of them. But don't let all this deter you from participating, on the contrary..." "And the lady with the whip?" "Well, she is the mistress and the soul of the secret society." "But doesn't she say anything?" "Oh as you could see, she doesn't always need to. But she does, she does, rather often, and you can't miss it when she does... but she does not always find the conversation enticing you know. Maybe if there was more participation... You should try next time. There's nothing to be afraid of actually." "Oh all right, if you say so..." he concedes reluctantly, unconvinced. Time, you think, to put things back in perspective: "Besides, you know what happens to members who don't show up after the first meeting, do you?" This does it. If ever you've seen a black hooded shape gasp in amazement, and fright, this is it: "Yes, right, of course. Absolutely. No need to remind me. Well thanks for your help, dear fellow secret society member, you've been most kind. I don't want to abuse and take too much of your time. I must leave you now, i'm going the other way, bye then". "Yes, sure, bye, and ... don't get lost... some wolves are insomniacs you know..." eh eh eh, you can't help chuckling under your beard.

Yes, you will have guessed it. This secret society, centuries ago, was actually the ancestor of a Yahoo group. Well, those were rough times, of course. And people had little to say then. It's so different today.

Mmmh, i'm wondering if the purpose of this group is appropriate to stimulate participation? Or rather, if the majority of members came to the right place, or, another way to put it yet: if they are here for the right reason? You know: "This site is designed to worship and glorify the grace, beauty and legitimate arrogance of all femdoms..." "...the flagship of Ayesha, a ruthless and cruel female dominant." and so on. Because participation is rather scarce, to say the least, and when, recently, someone raised the subject of linguistics, all of a sudden the discussion was raging. And now that this thread has petered out... we're back to dead calm seas... not a ripple any more. Well, almost. Could it be that linguistics is a much more capital and fascinating issue than female domination for the happy members?

I'm not only talking about this group, but most groups supposed to be about femdom. I'm a member of plenty of those -like most of you i bet- some with only a few members, others with thousands. Some rather good, and some painfully boring or vulgar. But sometimes, for weeks in a row, there is not even the start of one little thread in any of them. Once in a while, moderators from such groups blow their top and start harassing the members, usually ending up with such threats as: 'participate, or else...'. For all the good that it does, they might as well try to stop the tide by slashing the ocean with a sword. I remember i tried that once when i was four or five (with a small wooden toy sword, eh!), and it was rather a depressing experience. (Well i never pretended to have been a very bright kid anyway !)

Mmmh, maybe we could put the "question of the week": Is female domination such a bore?

I don't think so. On the contrary, it's very exciting. Yet, it can be said that the immense majority of people come to such groups with the same good disposition and enthusiasm as they display in their dentist's waiting room. That is, they might pick up a magazine and condescend to glance at it, but in any case, their motivation is deadly set on: Gloomy !

This being said, many still, some 0,02 % of members, are still eager to have a good time, and maybe even an interesting or enriching experience.


Now, wasn't that a great read? Thought so. A lot has happened since he wrote this story, and yet........i still enjoy reading it.

Note: After having been cruising Cyberspace for some years now, i came to believe there's not so much difference between the real world, and it's virtual partner. In both, the keyword for human communication and interaction is mostly --------->>> Indifference.

Sunday, July 5, 2009


Chess, the game where intellects collide, bound by strict rules and time restrictions. Ah, how wonderful this game can be, and how boring at the same time. For instance, all those well analyzed openings, where every move is always the same,.......till someone comes along, who doesn't care at all about tradition, or what the (FIDE) grandmasters painfully r prescribing for the lesser gifted, as the 'best' continuation. A player recognizing that psychological intimidation, seduction, body language, setting traps, and yesssss......a lot of attitude, ever changing attitudes, is of much more importance to make an exciting game (and to win it too), than intellect.

Would u believe, that any man, i repeat, any man, would have a very hard time to win me in chess, no matter his IQ, experience or skill, when i'm sitting there, opposite to him, dressed in an exquisite black leather evening gown, skyscraper heels, and matching silver jewelry, with my bluish black hair cascading to my waist, occasionally walking to his side of the table, caressing his feverish head with one of my gloved hands, whispering a few suggestions for continuation in his ear, while he's trying to concentrate on his next move, desperately seeking a way out of the position i brought him in? Sometimes, i even tell him the right moves, lol, but of cors he doesn't trust me, programmed as he is, not to expect this from his enemy.

U know, although i never lost since i was in my teens, to win is not really what i'm interested in. It's the interaction which does it for me, which makes me play again. I just love to see a renowned player going through stages like self-confidence, arrogance, hope, disbelief, agony, resurrection, despair, and in the end, left without any options. When huge bets r on the table, it's even more exciting. But of cors, there r also the real players, the ones who r like me, not only using their intellect. It's then, when chess is played, as it should be played: Sweet, merciless, passionate, using all there is, to near the singularity, a one moment in time connection between two opposites, an out of this world explosive unification. Of cors, it's not a game then in the traditional sense, but just another expression of how i want to live.

Playing chess like that always triggers reactions in the field. I can tell. I had my share, especially coming from 'real' players, the dedicated ones, the competitive ones, the ones playing tournaments and so. Mostly they r outraged, complaining that my behavior has nothing to do with chess at all, accusing me of violating the rules, that i'm not fair, so on. They probably belong to the guild of knights, who when in battle, will return the sword to their opponent, once he has lost it in the heat of the fight. To keep it clean, honest, and fair eh? I'm not like that. On the contrary, i will do everything to distract my opponent, to make him lose interest in his sword, and then........go for the kill. But what a sweet death it will be.

U would rather go for the only intellectual approach u say, keeping it traditional, and playing by the book? Be my guest. Noticed the pic on top? It's ----> Mate in 6. Black to move. Go for it! It will be a bit time consuming tho. If u could do it at all that is (smile). Or r u that good? Really? Show me.

Saturday, July 4, 2009

Lilith and Eve

If u know who Lilith is, and who Eve was, then the following will be of minor importance to u. I wrote this some time ago as an answer to a question regarding the identity of these two. And if u don't have knowledge of L & E (although u must have heard of Eve while adapting to the norms and values of ur society during ur initiation and ongoing indoctrination process), it's high time to get acquainted with these ladies, and the impact they had/have on this world. I don't intend to become ur teacher tho, as i hate that profession, but revealing a bit of their personality won't hurt i guess.

So here it is in a nutshell (with a few changes to the original):

Lilith is the seductress, the one who possesses males and females. She’s the archetype of freedom, independency, assertiveness, sexual aggression, and honesty. She doesn't take no for an answer, and will always have her way. She's extremely beautiful, erratic, moody, sensual, manipulative, radiating dominance, and never ages. When she's entering a store, a restaurant, an opera house, a gallery, or a sleazy underground bar, there's instant silence. When she's dancing, time stands still. When she decides to have a sexual encounter, it will mark the life of the chosen one, and the experience will be engraved in his/her soul forever. While all men want her, nobody will have her. She will enslave anybody she wants, and is never asking for consent. She laughs at the supplications of pathetic males, who vow they want to be her slave forever, knowing they could never live up to their fantasies, and r only looking for a surrogate mommy, who's willing to give them satisfaction. Most women want to be like her, but r afraid to put same into action. However, there r a few who r resembling her, actually r her. Those women r femdoms.

Eve (Hawa) represents the mother, the spouse, the one who's taking care of her man, the house and the kids, a la the ideas of the Hamisha Humshei Torah, the Bible, the Qur'an, and for instance Heidegger. She's the submissive one, however with her own agenda, often trying to lure the male into actions he doesn't really want, but submits to, cos he's living in the illusion he's the boss after all, having a housekeeper and a sex partner to his disposition whenever needed, and also due to his inner hidden longing for a tyrannical, despotic woman, who owns him as her slave, taking away his burden of responsibility, and unbearable guilt for being so dualistic. Of cors Eve is far from being a slaver, but sometimes she's willing to play that role, just to please her man, and to keep him in bondage to her. She's the archetype of dishonesty, disguising same by displaying what is called in the culture at force, kindness, warmth, friendliness, altruism, etc. But......Eve has only slight knowledge of her core personality, and most women would even deny they have these tendencies, supported as they r by the patriarchal view on womanhood. And u know what? It often works. Many people seem to be happy with a situation like that. This, to a certain extent, is a good thing. Otherwise our mental hospitals would be flooded even more.

Many men want both of them of cors. Having their pussy, and eat it too, so to speak. They crave for Lilith AND Eve simultaneously. Point is, while Eve occasionally is willing (only out of love and warmth of cors) to 'force' her hubby into pink rubber panties, or to whip the living daylights out of him upon request (quite often for a considerably amount of money too), Lilith couldn't care less, and would never engage in playing a role, and certainly not a requested one. But when confronted with a Lilith-femdom (just to avoid any mixing up with the Eve variant eh?), all the aficionados of degradation, humiliation, dehumanization, ergo, the sissies, dogs, worms, pigs, wannabe slaves, and topping from the bottom ones, will hastily put on their gymnasium shoes and run, call their mom, or have a heart attack.