Saturday, October 23, 2010


Her feet stuck

In mediocrity

Gangrene took over

Killing excellence

Her eyes got infected

With greed

Blindness was imminent

Darkening light

Her hands grabbed

Rich filth

Losing grip


Her ears were spoiled

By Siren’s slime


Reality’s thunder

Her womb collapsed

In emptiness

Spitting out

Her mutant soul


As the moon rose high

Her corpse

Was devoured

By me

Giving back


To the equal

She once was

Sunday, October 10, 2010


Nope, i’m not going to deliver a lecture on this subject. That was done already by too many distinguished members of the patriarchal clan. Take for instance Freud, Krafft-Ebing, Adler, and Hirschfeld. These dedicated and decorated men wrote volumes on what they called sexual perversions and anomalies. When cruising the highways of MentalScienceLand, one easily can find even more litanies on what’s normal and abnormal. Just peep into the different versions of the DSM, and u will encounter classification after classification of what is sick, more sick, less sick, and healthy, all neatly labeled for the practicing shrink, with exact, and…um… less exact, descriptions, of the minimum required time a phenomenon has to manifest itself, for it to have successfully graduated to mental illness, so he or she (yes, there also r female shrinks.) can easily diagnose u as freak, ready to enlist for some intense psychotherapy, a shitload of neuroleptics, or immediate transportation to a cozy asylum for nuts and other deviants from the holy norm.

By Lilith, did u observe the length of that last sentence? Beautifully crafted too no? Wonder if someone will po(o)p up here again, to urge me to take some English classes.

DSM? What u say? U don’t know what that’s all about? Gtfooh! Really? But that’s terrible bro! How can u consider urself to be of healthy mental health then? Oh ur not? U know already u r a nutcase? U praise urself to be insane? Good for u! Salute! May the kinky force be with u.

Now come, sit close to me, and i’ll enlighten u a bit. But be careful not to touch my whip. She’s such a bitch eh, and abhors sweaty hands from a rookie. What? U r not a rookie. U r a seasoned bdsm-er? U r one who adores the sting of a single tail, and can’t get enough of it? Well in that case, try her. But don’t blame me afterwards, and spare me ur complaints as well, cos it will only triple ur agony, as i always side with her!

Feel comfortable now? Ok, here goes. DSM is like the Bible. Or the Qur’an if u will. All three of them r in the business of telling u what’s right and wrong. To keep u in line, and to make u feel guilty when questioning their dogmas, rules, and protocols, they also supply u with an avalanche of threats and warnings of all the dreadful and horrible things that will happen to u, should u dare to stray, or even would consider to stray, from the law of laws. Of cors, within the realm of psychotherapy, nobody is threatening u, and nobody in their right mind will punish u. Instead they’ll deal with u via so called treatments. Which is the same (grin).

Noooooo, u’ve only heard of the Bible, and never read anything from it? This holy book is not even sitting somewhere on some lost bookshelf in ur home, and u only caught a glimpse of it when u were secretly screwing ur strict and cruel Mistress in a pre-paid luxury hotel? Caramba, no wonder there r so many floods, blazing wildfires, and caustic red sludge, these days! Btw, were u not violating at that time, one of the Ten Commandments? U were eh? More flooding for u Sir!

Anyway, DSM stands for, and pay attention now, “Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders”, published by the APA.

Huh? U don’t know that one either? Mama mia! What DO u know? Well it’s the American Psychiatric Association, dummy.

The next revised version of the DSM will see the light of day somewhere in 2013. Till then u’ll have to depend on that crappy old DSM-IV, dating back from 1994. Of cors, these days everybody is relying more and more on the DSM-IV-TR.

Google the last one if u must, as i’m done explaining. Geeezz!

According to that sacred booklet, and i quote, “fetishism is the use of nonliving objects as a stimulus to achieve sexual arousal or satisfaction. (This only applies if the objects are not specifically designed for sexual stimulation (e.g., a vibrator).)”.

So there u have it. There u go. No way that u r a fetishist when using a pig or a cockroach. Well, unless they’re dead of cors, or were specifically designed for ur sexual stimulation eh?

There was a time when it was really terrible to have a fetish. If u had one, u were considered totally abnormal, if not a retarded freak. Mostly cos the blessed normal ones were afraid or jealous of u. Either way, u had to be punished, ….er…..treated, for ur aberration, so that, after u were cured from ur horrible illness, u too could (re)-join and enjoy the privileged ranks of the sexually bored and frustrated ones, making everybody happy again.

Although many believe we’re better off now, the paradigm of sick/healthy, normal/abnormal, is still very alive, keeping large groups of morons in its iron grip, making people feel bad about themselves, and driving them insane, should they feel sexual aroused for instance, when licking a boot, wearing a leather dress, or sniffing a soiled panty from a she-male.

But there’s also this: In the jet set world, the self proclaimed avant garde, and in all kinds of vanilla subcultures, it's almost a sin, NOT to have a fetish nowadays. Of cors, these people r not referring to Freud's view on the matter, or the DSM-IV one. It’s more a matter of distinguishing oneself from the main crowd, to feel special, while one actually is not, and a yearning to belong to, and accepted by, some silly new bourgeois group, that wants to be seen as kinky or something. It's conformity all over again, larded with pseudo tolerance, to make sure one's own version is accepted as well. "Whoohoooo, look at me, i have a fetish. And don't tell me it's not, because i have a right to my opinion, and when i say it's a fetish, it is one, dammit!".

So what we have now, is at one side, the ones who believe having a fetish is sick and abnormal, and at the other side, a bunch of morons who think they’re special for having one, while they have none, and r only pretending, lol.

Btw, except for statistical distributions etc, poor me never could understand the value of dichotomies like normal/abnormal, nor of its brothers like inferior/superior, male/female, black/white, sick/healthy, and in this case, fetish/ non-fetish.

Now what about people like me eh? Where do we fit in? We don’t give a damn. We don’t care about concepts like that. We only laugh at people who need to dichotomize, or r ruled by labels. We have no issues when not fitting in within any group of people. We r the disconnected and independent ones, enjoying the company of other independent and disconnected ones. People like me, make shrinks obsolete, and ready for an asylum themselves, lol. Some shrinks make good slaves tho, as they mostly discovered they were destined for slavery at a very early stage in their life, but found it very difficult to display this publicly, and thus chose to become a shrink instead. Freud called this sublimation. Similar to the latent serial killer, who became a butcher.

When growing up, i gave my attraction to, and yearning for wearing leather, velvet, and rubber clothing some deep thought. I spend a lot of time discussing the matter with others, and read what was written about it by the 'experts', whether they were members of the academic establishment or the velvet underground. To find the “why” eh? In my culture, the “why” was very important. Yes, very! Most of it i found boring. I discovered, i didn't need an explanation for that particular behavior of mine. Why would i? I never found some major concerns about my craving for sunshine, chocolate, or riding my horse. Is loving leather and rubber so much different? What u say? Riding a horse is not sexual? Guess u never rode one then, or ur libido was already dried up, b4 it could come alive.

So, why should i care about ‘the why', when it comes to belts, heels, rubber mackintoshes, whips, hoods, iron collars, leather lingerie, etc? Why waste time on that?

U see? Now i’m asking about the “why” of the “why”, lolol. Grrrrr, must be an addiction too, i guess.

With pleasure, i left all that for the shrinks to answer, and others who believe i need to be cured or something. I know, many still have the urge and need, to find out, why they r so addicted to these fabulous materials, these irresistible objects, why they r so obsessed with wearing them, or can't get their eyes off of them, when accidentally meeting that incredibly sensuous leather clad woman in the street, in the mall, in a plane. But not me. I just enjoy the feeling, the sensation, and the rush i get, when dressed like that, or watching others like me. I don't care what triggered it, is keeping it alive, or if, and how, it could end one day.

What i know is this: A belt of let's say 1" wide, does nothing for me. Oh sure, it can be elegant, lovely, and chic, but it has no sexual component. The same counts for heels. Except for rubber riding boots, heels lower than 4" r just casual wear, and not really exciting. But dancing for instance the night away in 6", is almost equal to a prolonged orgasm.

What i know is this: Dressing like that, not only makes me feel good by itself, but i also like to provoke people with my outfits, to play with their feelings, enjoying their reactions, when i’m entering a public area in them. Very casual of cors , yet a bit arrogant. Many people don't know how to handle the situation then. They want to look, and at the same time feel embarrassed to do so. Still they won’t be able to resist that little voice inside them, whispering: “Look at her, look, loooooook…….! What combination is that? A leather evening gown and rubber riding boots? How dares she? Loooooook!” Vanilla clowns. Completely out of balance. Especially when i seek their eyes in return with disdain. Hilarious!! Um......... u want to do this too? Well, if ur going to do this urself, here’s a great add on. , B4 entering the place, step into some fresh chewing gum. Then look for a macho man, preferably where there’s an audience of substance, and while lifting ur riding boot, and pointing toward it with ur leather gloved finger in an ultra dominant manner, ask him, in ur sweetest voice, if he would be so kind to remove that sticky stuff off ur boot sole. U will be surprised with what will happen next. Or maybe not? But don’t do this, if u r not a born domina :)

What i know is this: To walk on the beach, a wide belt accentuating my silhouette, is quite different than just wearing a sexy bikini. Riding a horse in formal riding gear turns me off, while sitting on that powerful back, wearing a tight belted rubberized riding mac, dusty rubber boots, with the wind freely playing with my hair when speeding along the border of the woods, will arouse me. Visiting an opera house, wearing an exquisite evening dress is lovely, but going there dressed in an extremely tight fitting leather outfit, makes it a thrilling event.

What I know is this: U still want to know about ‘the why’. Alas, i don’t know, and again, i don’t care. There’s another ‘why’ tho, i do know about. It’s ‘the why’ which explains why it feels so great to wear extremely wide belts, to strut in skyscraper heels, to sleep under leather sheets, to drive cars at extremely high speeds, to descend into a volcano, to go deep sea diving, to explore under water caves, to swim with the sharks, to sail Magellan, to sexually enslave other human beings, to own them completely, to force people into behavior they would never consider possible, to unite with them, to become one Gestalt, and disappear together in the abyss of lust. It’s the escape from the ordinary, and seeking the extraordinary. It’s the desire to provoke, instead of giving in to the norm. It’s the glory of being an individual, and not a clone of society. It’s the paradox of setting me free by restricting myself at will. It’s the desire to destroy the artificial limits of my partners, while keeping a keen eye on their real ones. . It’s the challenge of giving in to myself, and to dominate MyEgo simultaneously.

So, what do u make out of all of this? How should it be labeled? Fetishism? Bipolar disorder? Sadism? Fanaticism? Narcissism? Femdom? Mental illness? Megalomania? Something else? U make ur pick. I’ll happily agree with whatever makes u happy, grumpy, angry, or feeling lost. But i would applaud if u would stop putting urself into a straightjacket, and defending ur stay in vanilla bondage, by coming up with all kinds of ridiculous philosophies, theories, and explanations about ur sex drive, and seeking other people’s support for that. Instead, go and act on ur raw libido. Well….um…..if u still can remember that one.

It may sound strange to some, but the wider and tighter the belt, the more freely i breathe.