Monday, January 30, 2012

Dia 30 de janeiro

When i came into the room, all were there, waiting for me to arrive. A complete chaos it was. And yet, organized and highly finished. I could feel their anticipation. “What will she do now?” hang in the air. Same as every year. Sadness looked excited, expecting much. Melancholy was arguing with longing and desire about something only they could understand and make sense of. Memory, yearning, and fate were still struggling with the past. Foreigners wanted to put in a word as well, so ערגה hugged weltschmerz, and was holding hands with νοσταλγία and weemoed.

Yes people, it was the usual thing all over again. No dia 30 de janeiro é comemorado o dia da saudade. Oh u don’t speak Portuguese? Maybe Dutch? No? Greek or Hebrew perhaps? Also not? Huh? No German either? Caramba, what languages DO u speak? Anyway, in short English: Today is the day of saudade. And the good thing is, saudade can’t be translated. One can only feel it. And if u don’t? Well no saudade for u then. No worries tho, as u know what they say sometimes: chega de saudade. Besides, most people won’t have the stomach for it anyway, and rather stay at the surface of their emotional life, cherishing a “don’t worry, be happy” lifestyle, going for the lowest EQ possible, and suppressing, hidden somewhere deep down in their fragile system, the knowledge that their inevitable depression will arrive sooner or later no matter what.

Mostly i don’t care much about so called “special” days. Mother’s Day? Psaw! Such nonsense. Too many creepy moms in this world to celebrate that day. Christmas, Easter, or birthdays? Nah, not for me. Cliché, cliché, cliché. Valentine’s Day? Brrrrrr! Worst of them all! And Femdom Day (ah u didn’t know that eh, but yeah that’s right, july 24 coming, lol) only makes me laugh. Silly, silly, silly. Still, there r a few i observe. For instance, Yom Kippur. And so it is with the Day of Saudade. I love saudade. Reason why i called my blog “Ayesha’s Saudade”.

It’s the day i really let myself go. It’s the day i want to feel and remember how it once was with Shirah, my time in Colombia with those extraordinary men, the days in solitude and agony in Syria, my intense and lost love affair with the father of my child, the numerous relationships that came after him, as well as all the things that never happened, and never will, like for instance my meeting with Elizabeth in Jerusalem, ergo the future that will never come. It’s a moody day. A day of ups and downs. A day of sinking deep into a diversity of abysses, of climbing peaks that reach above the stars, of dwelling in depressions not known to me b4 and enjoying them to the fullest. It’s a day of music, tears, laughter, of lingering with emotions, of exchanging thoughts of suffering, pain, and unbearable sadness with Anita who went through some terrible episodes in her younger years, and recovering from that in each other’s arms. I love all that. There is nothing better than to go deep, very deep, to challenge my saudade, to embrace it, to let it overwhelm me, and dominate it at the same time. It’s the day of pure catharsis, strength, and vulnerability. It’s the day when i want to amplify any feeling, any mood, any emotion, to its extremes, to know my naked reality without any bias, without any possibility of escape. It’s a day of compressed and intense living in a short period of time. I long for saudade, to drown in it, conquer it, to possess it like a slave, and free it from its chains.

After a day like that, i feel refreshed, energized, and even more connected with my people than i was already the day b4. As a matter of fact i’m not really waiting to do all this on the official day of saudade, but take the day off for it whenever i feel like it. There r no bad moods remember?

Friday, January 27, 2012

Corrective measures

That i’m not a fan of punishing, humiliating and degrading people when it comes to d/s in general and femdom in particular is all over this blog as well as in my comments elsewhere. I essentially differ in that from the majority of women who consider themselves dominant, as well as from many males and females calling themselves subs or slaves, telling the world they r practicing same and believe this stuff is inherent to what they call the “lifestyle” or “the scene”. I find activities like that disgusting, ridiculous, and making femdom only an extension of a society based on patriarchal principles, norms, values, and religious dogmas.

The daily dose of twaddle in blogs, forums, and groups about all those important household chores, like doing dishes and laundry, as a token of how dedicated one is to one’s wife, how grateful one is to be living under her rule, and getting corner time, having to write lines, or receiving a hairbrush spanking, when having failed to do same according to her strict instructions, or Lilith forbid having violated some other holy set of FLR rules or protocols, convinced me that these practitioners never mentally left their childhood status, and r trying to re-enact the relationship they once had with their mother, teachers in kindergarten, elementary or Sunday school. Reward, punishment, sin, repentance, worship, guilt, and absolution, r key concepts here. Freud and his followers would have claimed that these people would be happiest if they only could return to the womb. He also would have argued that some males feel so guilty for having a penis, that they want the thing to be locked up by their spouse, fantasizing she would have the guts to throw the key away. Not having orgasms seems to be trendy in those environments. Of cors there r also other reasons why men r into chastity. For instance, to sublimate impotence. Frigid women cheer guys like that, relieved as they r from performing themselves.

Often i see these so called slaves and subs as panting dogs, trying to please their master in an attempt to receive some praise in return for a job well done. No wonder that in these circles pet play is in. Lying breathless and leashed at her feet, licking same with unstoppable enthusiasm, is a common fantasy as well.

To dissociate myself from all this, i’ve called mine, feminine femdom, and the one that sprouted from patriarchal philosophy and male fantasy, vanilla femdom. Women who r lured into the latter, or enter this realm voluntarily, i baptized mommy-dommes.

Of cors this brought me an avalanche of criticism, hate, bans from forums, resistance, accusations, lots of name calling and foul language from people claiming it is their sacred right to trespass into territories which r not theirs (and never will be theirs), and to take over which can’t be taken over. After years of having observed this banality, in a way i’m still flabbergasted with their resistance to give their fantasies and actions a different label. But no, they keep on insisting that what they’re doing has everything to do with female domination and slavery. Most if not all subscribe to something called the loving female authority. Of cors the loving one is severely punishing her loved one when needed. Sounds familiar eh? Yeah, that's right, it’s similar to a religion where the good Lord is loving each and everyone…………….. as long as u do as he says. And if not? Well then u r in for a treat. Then thou shalt be punished and be brought down to hell. No wonder so many women in “the scene” expect their humble servants to address them with Goddess. And remember, no hanky panky at the side eh? It’s all monogamous. Exactly as their heavenly father ordered them to be and to stay like that forever and ever.

So, i will keep correcting them whenever i’m in the mood to do so. Not as a quest or a mission, but simply to keep them awake and to remind them not forget what their true colors actually r.

Naturally this is just one example of me taking corrective measures, and a minor one at that. I only brought it up, to give some perspective to the rest of this blog, and to make sure that all of u understand, that when i punish, humiliate, or degrade people, it will never have anything to do with feminine femdom.

Basically there r two situations in which i take corrective measures:
1. Seeking justice and revenge
2. Educating non-slaves

Seeking justice and revenge.

It’s no secret: I don’t trust any legal system. Ad nauseam people have tried to convince me that laws r there to serve us, to protect us, to give us justice when we were done wrong, and to save us from potential scams, crimes, and other lowlife activities. I wanted to believe them, as i too think that in principle laws could be all that. I even would add that laws could keep some of us from being tempted to do the wrong thing. But, like it is with so many good things, people r messing around with them, making them just another tool, to mislead, corrupt and abuse. Lawsuits became a game, where judges, prosecutors and lawyers r seeking fame, finding (or creating) loopholes, and r trying to interpret the law to their advantage, with little attention to do the right thing. It became a circus, and i’m done with that. The only time i’m willing to go to court is when it concerns minor stuff like winning an administrative disagreement or a money conflict linked to one of my companies. In those cases i rarely give acte de présence myself, leaving it to a team of hotshot vanilla bureaucrats to represent me, and to fight over the banality. I’m not seeking justice then. Nor revenge. The outcome is not really important to me. I just want to win. Which i mostly do. And if i lose? So be it.

How different this is when it’s getting personal, when one of my intimi or moi is harassed, threatened, or hurt. Then i won’t go with, nor would i rely upon, the law, the police, the judges, the prosecutors and the lawyers. Then a lot of what i wrote a few blogs back comes into session. Then i take things into my own hands. Then justice will be done. My justice. My revenge. At times this also comes into picture when i’m confronted with a horrible event outside of my inner circle, in the streets, a bar, a disco, a subway, etc.

Let me tell u a few short stories, for u to get the feel of what i mean.

1. After having participated in a conference at the Universidad Rafael Urdaneta, Alejandra and i went for a stroll in Parque La Marina. I noticed a group of men looking at us. Nothing unusual so far. Punks do that all the time. But they split up, with three of them following us, while the rest faked to have other interests, proceeding to walk in the same direction never the less. Then i knew, all of them belonged to what i would call scum of the Earth. Once in the park, two of them tried to hook up with us by making the usual stupid remarks about how pretty we were, and that the four of us could have such a marvelous time together if we would allow them to take us out, and more of that nonsense. Naturally it was only an attempt to get us off guard, to not pay attention to the third one who kept silent, staying a little behind, and the ones who tried to make us believe they already forgot about us all together. We tried to stay polite, and made it very clear to them we were not interested in their advances or company. Gradually the situation became tense, and more and more dangerous. It was that time when most people would try to get out of the situation, run, call for help, the police, or something. But we r not like most people. We, and especially i, come from a past where we were taught to take care of ourselves, and not wait for help, which btw mostly never comes, or way too late. Suddenly, but not to our surprise, the so called disinterested group appeared in front of us. We were surrounded. We acted fast, and mercilessly. In the end the one that had stayed behind, was left with a broken wrist and a bullet, coming from his own weapon, in his shoulder, while Don Juan and his amigo were confronted with several broken ribs, crushed testicles, and rather severe head injury. Once they saw what was happening to their friends, and their decaying brain matter had convinced them of the reality that we were not the easy prey they had thought, the rest of the gang wisely took to their heels, and left us in peace. B4 we went on our way, we called an ambulance to get the wounded idiots to an ER, then continued our stroll, and ended up making love to each other.

2. I love to dance. Especially on the floors of sleazy bars and discos in the more rough neighborhoods of metropolitan areas like NYC, LA, Buenos Aires, Rio, Johannesburg, Amsterdam, and Tel Aviv. I find it awesome to completely letting myself go in places like that, where nobody cares who and what u r, as long as u can dance, drink, and be wild. It’s there where i get the most out of making men and women crazy about me, and to want me to such an extent, that they would not hesitate to kill for having raw sex with me. It turns me on tremendously when they actually start fighting over me. If u would see me then, all sweaty and horny in my black and shiny latex mini-dress and heels, dancing provocatively and shamelessly making eyes at u, u also would join my cattle, unable to resist making a pass at me. And sure enough there would be plenty of others trying to prevent u from succeeding. It’s MyEgo showing herself in a vanilla environment, looking for trouble and sex. So far so good. Everything still cool and dandy.

I went to the ladies room during such a dissipation in Rio, and found a girl on the floor, bleeding. It turned out she was raped. Probably by more than one person. I had never met her, but couldn’t stop thinking of how she must have felt during the attack(s), the pain, the agony, the helplessness, and now the horrible aftermath of same, the physical and mental damage, the inevitable interrogations, the eyes of her friends, the gossip, and the uncertainty if she ever would find justice. So i gathered with a few friends, and set out to find the lowlifes who had done this to her. It’s then when having a lot of money comes in handy. We found a few rats soon. From there on it was an easy task to locate the culprits. I’ll spare u the graphical details of what we did to them. Suffice to say that justice was done. Real justice. Swiftly and cruelly.

3. Once, during a mission in the ME, i was captured by the enemy, and thrown into a filthy room for interrogation. For several days i had to endure intense vanilla cruelty from a couple of men who hated me for what i was and represented. I could barely manage the pain during the torture sessions they conducted on me. But i was trained for this, and the people who selected me for the jobs i had applied for voluntarily, had assessed me well. They knew i would rather die, than to give away any information. They knew i would want to dominate any situation, to stay on top of it, in absolute control, to drive my opponents into insanity by my behavior, to never give in, and to make them feel inferior to me, no matter what. Still, after a couple of days, deprived from food, drink, sleep, and having been tortured and raped several times, i felt lost, abandoned, and without any belief of a rescue. What kept me going was to fuel my intense hate for the people who were doing this to me to the extremes, by making up scenarios in my mind of how i would take terrible revenge on them should i ever get back my freedom. At the same time reality had made it very clear to me that i had to prepare myself for execution.

And then it happened. There was a noise. In came my people. Hardened men, brazen, and determined to get me out of there. Like thieves in the night they stole me from our enemy, and carried me away from my hell hole. Wounded and weakened, but not broken. I was saved.

On our way home, still in enemy territory, they came after us. We ambushed them. It was then i took my revenge for real. The simple sight of my torturers gave me back my strength. My comrades knew what i was capable of, but still were amazed and terrified when they saw my rage and fury and the final result of same.

There’s more. For instance when i corrected a couple of kkk members who deemed it necessary to exercise their right of free speech, or when i revenged Shirah’s death, and the time i went after a group of neo-nazis who firebombed a synagogue in Paris. But i prefer not to go on, and think u got my drift by now.

I hate violence! Still i’ve used it many times, and, although reluctant, very willing to use it again. It is the only language understood by scumbags, fascists, criminals, racists, their brethren and followers. It’s the best way for having a fruitful conversation with them, to solve a problem, to teach them respect, to instill fear, and to make them rethink their actions in the future. No bureaucratic process, diplomacy, jail time, rehabilitation center, or political negotiation, can match direct and merciless action against creeps like that. Not that violence ever gave me joy or satisfaction. Sure there was that rush of the moment. That feeling of doing the right thing, to enforce justice or taking revenge for me or someone else. The aftermath always brought me sadness tho, staying with me for a long time. Still there was never regret either.

Educating non-slaves

Back in 2009 i wrote : “I met plenty males who wanted to grovel for me, to lick the dirt off my boots, to be pissed in their mouth by me, to be whipped by me, to be humiliated by me, me a woman, one belonging to the weaker sex. And i tell u, i kicked, pissed, whipped, spat, whacked, tortured, and humiliated these males to exhaustion. And they loved it. The time came however, i discovered that in fact i was used by them. Like all other women, i went into their trap, having the illusion that i was their mistress, ruling them, while in fact i was acting according to their rules, by pleasing them, by humiliating them, by beating them to pulp etc. And i went into it eagerly, cos i really wanted to be a domina.” And i continued with: “All this has changed now, as can easily be deducted from my other blogs.”

Then came the years i developed the concept of feminine femdom, completely averse to patriarchal culture, norms, values, concepts, and fantasies, but entirely congruent with my desire to be the only one who decides what is done and not done. At any cost, and any consequence. And that’s how i live now for a number of years already.

Strange things can happen tho. Since some time, i found myself more and more attracted to crack down on those bragging wannabe slaves, those silly FLR types, and especially those quasi sophisticated and academic types, who seem to have a need to constantly inform us about their pedestrian femdom insights, patriarchal d/s fantasies, and boring daily FLR adventures. Oh, and not to forget those revolutionary activists, those self proclaimed leaders and scholars of the kinky world, who made it their mission to enlighten the rest of the rookies, to fight for their rights, to converse on higher levels with more developed/graduated non-slaves and mommy-dommes, and to convince their audiences that anything goes as long as it’s consensual and against the old establishment. I can’t stand them, cos when the heat is really on, when it gets dangerous, they easily back off, and want, even claim, the protection of the same people and systems they only felt contempt for and “fought” against, the time they felt safe to do so.

And no, i don’t mean in the usual way, the vanilla femdom way. I’m talking here to really go out into their world, really granting them their wishes, really fulfilling their desires and fantasies. But not like i did as described in my quote above, but with a deliciously sardonic twist. What does that mean? It means i take them on a tour, way beyond their boldest expectations. Lemme explain.

After having hooked up with my next victim (a.k.a. submissive alpha male), for instance in a fetish/sm club, and discussed with him the terms of our engagement (ssc eh?) at length, he feels at ease and comfortable, fully trusting me, and anticipating the time of his life. Then i take him to my place. No, no, no, not to the Labyrinth, and certainly not to That Place, but to a location some would call the dungeon of love, cruelty and despair. In that order, hehehe. Once there, everything changes. No more ssc crap. None of it! His desires and fantasies? Yeah right. Maybe in the beginning he still believes i will follow up on our agreement. Gradually his anticipation and trust will evaporate tho, making place for fear, agony, and an uncontrollable drive to get out, to escape from me, to go home to his loving female authority, far away from this awful domina he initially was dreaming of, but who managed to turn his dreams into a horrible nightmare.

To really degrade, humiliate, and dehumanize types like that the MyEgo way, and certainly not their way, excites me these days beyond my own belief. MyEgo way of degrading, humiliating, and dehumanizing a man is not play! I’m truly going for it, putting the pressure on him, making him feel a zero, a toy, a piece of shit, for him to realize that he’s not the slave he thought he was (and never will be), now that he finally met with a woman who doesn't play the game his way, a woman teaching him what it really means to beg, to beg without any result, any relief, to experience timeless torture, and true indifference regarding his desires, wishes, and fantasies. An arrogant and haughty woman, who openly and shamelessly makes him aware of the fact that she is in it for herself only, who is using him for her own satisfaction, mocking him for his lousy performance, his inadequacy to hold an erection under her severe whippings, laughing at his whimpering and tears, who considers him a simple and exchangeable tool, a non-human, a worthless worm, a filthy doormat, a disposable thing. Something he wanted to be, but never dared to admit. Something he wished for, but never wanted to come true. And now it happened. A whole new femdom dimension was added to this poor fellow’s thinking. He will never be the same, and traumatized for the rest of his FLR life. If there still will be one, hehe. And if, it will not last very long, cos the next time he’s “playing with his mistress”, he will feel lousy and think back, longing for me, and finding his wife a bad example of dominance. And she will feel it too. Maybe she will be relieved, lol. Back to good old and safe vanilla. A man can do laundry, dishes, and run errands then too, u know. Even kneel and lick her feet sometimes. Oh happy days.

Alpha males? Not in those places. Submissive alpha males? Only when they r pampered by their loving female authority.

I’m not only doing this in private. Humiliating a non-slave in public has it charm too. Making a character like that suck on the heels of my boots in a mall or the lobby of a hotel is hilarious. The trick is to get them down on their knees. Once there, there is no way back for them, no return. They will feel ridiculous, ashamed, and weak under the eyes of the crowd, but they won’t stop pleasing me. It’s like as if they’re hypnotized, and thus will do anything i tell them to do, no matter how disgusting, degrading, or dangerous. If u r a woman and, while reading this, felt a little tingle down or up there, u should try this once. Great way to find out if u r a feminine femdom too :)

Yes i know. I said it many times. I hate teaching. And it’s true! But there’s that other side of me too eh? I’m always ready to straighten people out, to help them to do the right thing, to educate them by showing them who they really r, and also to safe mommy-dommes from a terrible fate. What? U don’t know what their fate will be? Well think about it for a while, take ur time, and i’m sure it will come to u.