Rain

Of the five classical elements I feel intensely connected to water and fire. It’s one reason why I want my slaves to carry my branding, why I can’t stay away from descending as far as possible into volcanoes, and why I feel somehow spiritual connected to the life of the immortal Ayesha as she’s pictured by Rider Haggard.

Going deep sea diving for days at a stretch, swimming long distances, and having ultra long walks and sex in heavy or gentle rains makes me feel alive beyond the imaginable. Sometimes I can’t even belief myself how it is possible that after having engaged in such activities till exhaustion, I feel totally refreshed and energized, eager to continue, while others who shared those endeavors with me only want to go home and rest.

Having spent now a considerable amount of time in a rather harsh and arid environment, I find my thoughts drifting sometimes, seeing myself back in for instance the rainforests surrounding the Rio Pacuare while the heavens are unloading torrential rains onto me and my partner(s), getting soaked and extremely muddy while roaming the Juan de Fuca trail, or sauntering hand in hand with Lucinda in the pouring rain on the fabulous Glencoe highlands, making our way to the Ballachulish Hotel, or a nearby and very private cottage, to spend the night and big money on a few exquisite and tongue titillating Macallans.

Doesn’t mean my libido shrinks when there’s no rain to enjoy. I also love to create some heat in hot environments under the blazing sun. Must be caused by that fire element I guess :

Already as a child I wanted to go outside as soon as it started to rain. I loved to feel the droplets wetting my face and entering my eyes. Still a toddler I remember the feeling I got when putting on my first rain boots. It was as if they added something to my body, merged with same, and would never ever leave me. I wish! But as a grown up and a femdom I often keep my boots on in places where other people wouldn’t even think of wearing slippers. It’s not odd for me, or exceptional, to go to the beach, wearing a bikini and rubber riding boots. The looks I get then, hehe. But I feel great.

I mostly prefer to walk in the rain alone, or accompanied by a sensual woman. A woman who is as passionate as I am when it comes to wearing hot rubber boots, tight belted mackintoshes, and having rough sex in the pouring rain.



Especially when having had explosive and raw sex with a nymphomaniacal vixen and she’s sucking off the last drop of our orgiastic fluids from my luscious bush, still having her gloved hand touching the entrance of her Nirwana, and while my energy is slowly drifting away to other parts of my hungry for sex and shivering body, inevitably there must be time to recover. Well, that’s what I’m told ;)

So what to do?

  

Special men? Regular readers of my blog know of course exactly what ‘special’ means.

You think? Nah, it’s definitely not that kind.

Maybe this one then?

Well…um…..perhaps. But I sure as hell love this kind of activity!

You should try it too. I bet it’ll make you feel to repeat it.

Even when in a tropical rain forest I like to wear my rubber boots. Feeling the sweat accumulate within them can only arouse me more. Keeping one of my rubber mackintoshes on in places like that I tried, but not for long lol, as sudden death is lurking down the trees after an hour or so.

Crazy as I am, I sometimes leave the rain boots for what they are, and go out in wet and stormy weather wearing a pair of my favorite high heeled brutally expensive leather boots.

 But then again………..

And then there are times…………

Sometimes I don’t need the boots, the rubber, and the sex. It’s then when I want to be alone, lonely, and to only be with the rain, to surrender to that incredible element……………

Undeniable facts of Femdom: The Leather Clad Truth

Nothing hurts like the truth. Isn’t that the truth, and nothing but the pure truth, a.k.a. la vérité pure, de zuivere waarheid, die reine Wahrheit, or אמת צרופה? Well.......um.......maybe not for some people, and certainly not for the pathological liars among us, but you bdsm-people?  Aaahhhh, you just love pain. And don’t you dare to deny it now! You know it’s true! Physically, mentally, spiritually, or even faking it, it doesn’t matter, you don’t care. As long as it hurts, you love it all. Yeah, there’s nothing better to long for, nothing more rewarding, than to experience exquisite, intense, and extremely vicious administered pain, whether you deliver it yourself, or are the receiving party. And mind you, not the victim eh? That’s only for erring vanillas, who never ever will understand that pain isn’t pain at all. Delusional bastards, that’s what they are!

But.......do you love the truth as well? Sure, as long as it hurts, you will be ready to accept the pain that comes with the truth, but do you crave it, do you get aroused by it, do you long for it, are you addicted to it? Like it is with torture? Just thinking of your favorite sadistic female tyrant, how she will whip the living daylights out of you, brand you, and force you to sleep on a fakir’s bed, makes you crazy from lust. Yes I can tell, as I saw this happen many times over. But does the truth do the same to you? Yes?  Is that really true? Or does she offend you? Maybe you want to resist her, fight her, deny her existence, or call that sweet torturing angel a complete liar?  Some people do you know? Yes, they truly hate her. Some even get a massive panic attack when confronted with the truth.

Well then, have it your way. Here we go. Here’s the painful truth about femdom. Not painful for us of course, but for those who can’t stop contaminating our magnificent world by insisting that their weekend s/m games, their hidden from society d/s plays, and their monogamous loving female authority lifestyle, is not only comparable to a 24/7/365 female dominated environment, but actually is the same! And not based on fundamentally true facts, on its proven integrity, but simply because they say they have the right to define femdom as they please. Yeah right, you can stick that right, right up your asses you arrogant fools, and then beg your loving female authority to ram her sissy dildo right behind it into your tight and righteous man-pussy as well!

And you know what really makes me almost vomit in my mouth, climb up the walls, and jump off the nearest cliff? It’s when these no good idiots don’t even see the truth. Yes, like blind bats that lost their sonar capabilities, hanging around in Plato’s cave, they keep telling each other stories about how wise they are, now they’ve found the reality of truth. Smells to me like a sewer filled with rotten fish and human brain waste. 

Jeeez, I can be so foulmouthed eh? As I remember, I already had a potty mouth way back in kindergarten, driving my mom and teachers crazy. Shame on me! Huh? Wtf? Oh chutzpah, it wasn’t that bad eh? Some of you got pleasure from it no?  Some of you even got a deliciously hurting erection in that ages ago forced upon you evil device eh? Got a PA too? Wow! Really? You are da bomb man! And of course you loved the pain that came with that one as well. Even after having been locked up for.......now lemme see.......what was it again, a week?  One lousy week?  Are you kidding me, you amateur you?  You call that abstinence?  Even chastity? That’s your gift to your All? That’s your sacrifice to satisfy the needs of your strict Mistress, your divine Goddess? Caramba, not shame on me, but shame on you, you worthless zero!

What you say? Yeah you there,  with the potbelly and that hairless chest. A hundred days? Aaaahhh, now you’re talking! Oh you’re gagged with her freshly ironed soiled panties, and can’t speak? Still, rest assured, you’re her hero, oh superb naughty boy! Or would she punish you for having gotten a half-stiff dick without her permission? More pain for you boy. More power too. Don’t you just love it? Sure you do.  You crave it when she orders you to go and fetch her hairbrush like a little dog, her pet, and tells you to crawl onto her lap, hang over, and receive your well deserved and longed for punishment for such an impertinence done to your Goddess.

Oh crap, I completely forgot the female of the loving female authority circus.  I was totally focused on the male part of the non-femdom equation. Yep, I have a secret thing for males. Some of them I can’t stay away from. Like Steel for instance, my eternal slave with the huge tattoo on his back. Remember him?  Hmmm, probably not.

Doesn’t matter much that I left out these dames though. From the beginning, Her Supreme Highness and the rest of all the Sublime Deities weren’t paying attention anyhow, busy as they are with writing up a new contract for their subbie-hubby. The old one would expire soon you know, and it is crucial for them to have the new mutually agreed upon agreement in place before the arrival of that apocalyptic date. So no time to lose! And to waste it on the leather clad truth about femdom? Hahahahaha, where have you been? Out of the question! That would be the ultimate blasphemy in particular. You think it’s not? Bless you my child, but these dames won’t agree, and dismiss your view on the spot. Why is that? Let me explain. They can’t afford the risk to freely hand over to him the possibility of not signing anything. Which is not unthinkable, because as soon as he would taste the thrilling void of being free from her lame and tyrannical rule once again, he certainly would remember the time he wasn’t summoned to stand in the corner, or to write endless lines for not having done her laundry properly or spilling tea on her newly acquired cheap carpet with that horrible tiny flower design. Consequently, he could reconsider, and happily throw the signing pen out of the window into the neighbor’s yard. Comprendes ahora mis hijos?

 

Yes people, it’s a dark and dangerous time for the FLR business. Foggy future too. But what can one expect eh? Unruly housemen longing to utilize hot flat-irons and HD-detergents,  desperate housewives unwilling to dominate but too lazy to mop the floor themselves, impatient subs trying to force their unhappy ladies to force them into severe chastity, submissive women reluctantly caning the hungry bottoms of their alpha husbands, whining victims of the cruel patriarch complaining that the world doesn’t accept their lame gift of submissiveness, agitated Princesses trying to save their sacred marriages, so on. Can it get any worse? Yes my friends, it can. And it will. Finally the whole FLR flummery will collapse, and the male of the species will send the female back to the kitchen (again!).

And I ask you all: Why would that be a bad thing anyhow? What’s so wrong about being in the kitchen? Especially now these kitchens became high-tech paradises? Well, I for one love to be there you know. Sometimes I even cook. And I hate all those submissive alpha males trying to deprive me from that, claiming the privilege to have the cooking area all for themselves. They say they do all that to serve us, to make our lives easier, to pamper us, to make us feel like queens, and to give us their gift of submission. Yeah right! It’s a lie. A blunt, flagrant, and lame lie. They just want the kitchen all for themselves. No sharing tendencies at all! Egoistic liars, that’s what they are! You know what? Next time a creature like that has the nerve to come up with that shit, I’ll knock him unconscious with my rolling pin. There! 

Damn, now where did I leave them femdom facts again, the pure truth for all of you? Oh here they are, hidden under layers of leather. But only a few for ya, eh?  Just to give you a taste, because I know most of you are aficionados of the ssc-cult, and I wouldn’t want you to choke on our caviar and nectar, which would inevitably be the case if I would allow you to unsafely slurp the contents of the full plate. Anyway, it’ll be more than enough to give you an extensive glimpse of what possibly one day could come your way and mercilessly forced down your throats by a woman you never wanted to meet for real. Are you ready pets? Good. Let’s go.

Fact 1: The Prophecy

This man said a lot of things during his stay on the planet. Did some mad math stuff too, and like me and Fromm, considered nationalism a disease. 

One of his more popular thoughts was:

Two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity; and I'm not sure about the universe.

Many stupid people are coming up with that one, launching it as if it were their own wisdom, and to lecture/belittle others, unconscious of their own stupidity. Or are they aware of their below average IQ/EQ perhaps, but in denial, silently suffering from their imbecility, and not wanting others to know?  Now that would truly be the pinnacle of stupidity no? Guess not. Human stupidity is infinite, remember. There’s always room for improvement.

And you know? Doing stupid things at times comes natural to me. Especially when it’s exciting, turning me on, making me go all soft, warm, and gooey inside, or other people green with envy. Like for instance, strutting around in crotch high skyscraper heeled rubber boots in the hottest of weather, going dancing in neighborhoods feared to enter by even crime seasoned swat teams, giving huge amounts of money to homeless drug addicts, assuming they would use that money to get a better life, or challenging traffic cops by speeding in such a way, that they have to do extremely dangerous stuff themselves to catch me.  But maybe it’s not stupid then?

Juicy detail? They never give me ticket.

Here are a few more of that unique man:

Great spirits have often encountered violent opposition from weak minds.

Common sense is the collection of prejudices acquired by age eighteen.

 

And especially for this blog he said:

Anyone who doesn't take truth seriously in small matters cannot be trusted in large ones either.

And:

The woman who follows the crowd will usually go no further than the crowd. The woman who walks alone is likely to find herself in places no one has ever been before.

I too have a prophecy.  Actually more than one.  I’m good at that you know. For instance, more or less two decades ago I prophesized that the suicide rate among teenagers would significantly increase, and that the next great war will be initiated by world religions. The first one materialized already, and the second one is firmly on track. 

Within this context, I predict with absolute certainty, without the shadow of a doubt, that a matriarchal society as defined by the FLR-people, their brethren and sisters, will never see the light of day on a grand scale. It will stay an illusion, or at best, a half baked construction in isolated cases on a micro level. Celebrated now and hoped for in a few vanilla bedrooms, experimented with in certain (virtual) households, and blown out of proportions in already too many blogs, the idea is doomed to fail and only to exist in the mind of males who will keep harassing their women to take the lead, and release them from the burden of making (life) decisions. Males seeking females to take over is simply a form of twisted escapism.

Want to read another one of Ayesha NostraDomina the ultimate prophetess? Well, be my special guest and travel to “The Forgotten One”. But don’t forget to come back here eh?

Fact 2: Our DNA

DNA femdoms and slaves never have to be awakened, and never need to learn anything about d/s. Training, education, punishment and reward are silly things to them. They already know, and have it all.

So what’s left to do for these people? Well lots of stuff. Here are a few examples:

Fine tune their genotype, and decorate it.

Find new ways to take slavery to even more glorious levels of ecstasy.

Explore the distant limits of their hyperbolic relationship, and plunge from there    into the ever unfolding and inviting new abysses at the other side of the equation.

Search for and meet each other during this free fall into the unknown.

Create new chaos and meandering horizons.

Look for more challenging and risky activities.

Restlessly seek for ever renewing singularities.

Apart from that, we also do the usual stuff, i.e. dance, quarrel, eat, fight, travel, laugh, shop, offend, cry, tease, joke, hold hands, curse, ridicule, and.....ah so many things that make life so great. 

L’Chaim!

Fact 3: Authority

A femdom has no need to belong to anything but herself. She creates, destroys, initiates trends, and dismisses same at her whim and will. She doesn't need advice, and doesn't ask for it either. But she listens to her slaves, eager to know their wildest dreams and desires. Personally I love to spend hours with them, getting a kick out of their fabulous stories/fantasies, and their eagerness to share with me even the dangerous and embarrassing stuff they believe is deposited behind the windows of the hidden and unknown rooms of Johari, and open those windows too.

She laughs at the ones who claim to be her equal, but fear to go 24/7/365. She yawns when mainstream clichés and platitudes are coming her way. She recognizes no authority of any kind. She knows no higher power than herself. She despises vanilla laws, rules, and political systems, and doesn’t need them. She is her own anchor. She knows how to act and handle things herself. She doesn’t need a safety net in case something eventually would go awry. She is her own prosecutor, lawyer and judge. She’s the true trinity. She is alert, and unites with her prey, in a raw, selfish, uncompromising, and lustful way. She doesn't kill her prey, but takes him or her to the next level of lust.

Fact 4: Slavery

A self-proclaimed dominant female once told me: "......you cannot go out and force slavery..." Yeah right! I can’t stand such generalizations! Hearing stuff like that always makes me laugh, and angry!  She must have been talking about vanilla slavery and not the femdom kind. She probably was a vanilla femdom, a recreational femdom, or a pro-domme. Those women easily switch back to their vanilla lifestyle once the ‘session’ is over. Like movie actors, they’re just performers. In this case, playing the part of the dominant, or pretend to be a real one to satisfy the needs of their husbands or clients. And that’s fine with me, but they should realize that seriously coming up with something like 'consensual slavery', is raping femdom from its beauty, essence, and empowering force.

Whether vanilla or not, slavery, as per definition, is always non-consensual. Using the word in any other way is rubbish, and only blurring the concept. If this upsets you, makes you feel uncomfortable and shivering from fear, or if you can only be a slave or femdom under safe, sane, and consensual conditions, then simply don’t call it slavery, and just continue playing your risk free d/s games in harmony with your chosen one(s), snapping in/out of your so called sub-space/domme-space at prior agreed upon times and dates, and all will be fine, even great. Well......um.....I mean if you’re not plagued with a woman who wouldn’t even think of dominating you if it wasn’t for your endless whining to do this for you, and accept your lousy gift of submission, because then it will stay a mega ordeal for both of you.

But if it's slavery you want, if it's femdom you crave, then don't fool yourself. A slave has nothing to say, nothing to lose, nothing to negotiate, nothing to sign, nothing to trust, nothing to expect, nothing to demand, and nothing to give. To spice up the relationship even more though, and to make it as adventurous and unpredictable as possible, I personally encourage my slaves to violate all this, and try me (grin).

Huh? Did you say something? 

 

Oh, that? I see. Well, you’re not alone dear. Many do.

Now, to all you fiery defenders of human rights, morals, feminism, anti-feminism, and all you other salon freedom fighters, and........and......... (sigh). Damn, there are so many of you, that I must beg you to forgive me. I simply can’t mention all of your splendid cults and movements. Hmmm, forgive me? Why should I even ask? As I argued some time ago, there are way too many of you! Anyway, be that as it may, before y’all too hastily decide to get out your baseball bats, fetch your guns and molotov cocktails, climb on your proverbial barricades (again) and start shooting at me, shush, chill, take a moment, and listen to this:  Keep in mind this is not vanilla slavery we’re talking about here eh? Indeed, I agree wholeheartedly, that kind is totally disgusting, absolutely appalling, and mega objectionable, and should have been erased from the face of the Earth eons ago! Alas, it still exists. Often because good people like you are keeping their mouth hermetically closed, seldom make a stance, and never would risk their bourgeois existence to oppose this cancer of society! Oh, you are not one of those? That's marvelous. So let’s fight it then, at any cost, and make the lives of those who promote/defend it, as miserable as can be.

Join me?

But femdom slavery? Come on. A person can only thrive and prosper when called to become the slave to a feminine femdom. Sure, the concept of non-consent will give some people the creeps, and can be very frightening/scary to others. But only to non-DNA d/s wannabes eh?  In contrast, we DNA-ones wouldn’t want to have it any other way! And besides, the whole thing is actually a tempest in a teacup! Not because we are not capable of forcing someone into doing what we say or want against his/her will, but because it’s very hard, if not impossible, to establish a non-consensual relationship with people who so dearly want to unconditionally live the life of a slave. As soon as a person wants that, it’s already consensual (sigh). So in fact, it’s only possible with people who don’t want to be slaves, and I’m not really interested in those.

Still there are moments when MyEgo seduces me to make a complete stranger publicly do my bidding, without even considering to give it a second thought if he could be in for such a scenario or not. Then, it’s pure power play, my will against his. And I can tell you, most men turn into molten wax, once I set my mind to it to possess theirs. Can be totally hilarious you know, and gives me a rush too. Ah, the simple complexity of a whimsical femdom. Don’t you just adore it too?

There’s a silver lining to all this misery though, hehe. I’ve learned it’s best to distinguish between hardcore and soft-core non-consensuality (hmmm, I don’t think ‘consensuality’ is a word, but what the heck, you know what I mean). The first one is still the real thing: The slave doesn't want it, and is in complete disagreement with what is happening to her/him. But oh wonder, after a while he/she gets addicted to her/his new life, and their non-consensual ordeal suddenly becomes their heaven. Of course, from then on, one must call it consensual again. Darn, again? Yuck! But......hallelujah.......in comes the soft-core variant, as even now, in these fine consensual conditions, they still don't have a vote, and still have to comply with my desires, whims, and other awful/awesome stuff. Which they not always love and agree with, lol. And that my good people, makes it at least a little bit non-consensual, and also the difference with mainstream d/s, where the participants consider consent a condicio sine qua non. They need to have mutually agreed upon what’s going to happen. They must have that security. Otherwise the proposed action is out of the question. Hmmmm, one can only wonder why these genuine brave-hearts still need safe-words.  

 

What? Oh, about the pic where it says that women make better slaves than men? It’s based on experience people, exquisite firsthand experience, simply a fruit of having dealt with both gender a few decades without any major interruption.  Although I found a few true powerhouses among the male of the species and really wonderful companions under the whip, I also found, that women generally can take more. They also can handle cruelty and torture better and certainly with more grace. When it comes to making love and having prime, primal, unbridled, and raw sex, they’re way more equipped for that than most males, showing formidable skills, extensive knowledge, above average intelligence, intense sensuality, and out of this world passion, when colliding with me. But maybe this also has to do with my selection criteria?  Btw, you can find a rather lukewarm description (the 2 of us) of such an encounter in the second part of a previous blog.

Fact 5 Every day practice

My slaves are owned by me 24/7/365. They have no bonds anymore with the outside vanilla world. They don't live on their own, they have no vanilla jobs. When I want to enslave a person, I simply tell him/her to follow me. This can happen on the spur of the moment, after carefully having studied and screened a person, or somewhere in between. Like I said, I never negotiate/compromise, and i never look back. Done is done. If one doesn’t follow me instantly on command, I just walk on, unless I’m in the mood to insist and make an issue out of it. Then that person has no choice and is not allowed to escape.  That's how i want it, and how it is done.

Slavery the feminine femdom way is what i love and can’t stay away from. Where vanilla slavery essentially is exploiting, degrading, humiliating, and dehumanizing people, feminine femdom slavery is far from activities like that, and in contrast, is empowering its participants, getting the most out of people's sexuality, banning all obstacles debilitating their drive for experiencing lust, and keeping them on track to answer to what their inner voice tells them is their calling in life, never to deviate from it. 

A potential slave is just radiating slavery, like I am radiating dominance. When we meet, nothing else is needed. We just know we're opposites and yet the same. We just know we're on the same wavelength. And yes, a slave has to wait. Even when the spark is jumping vv, and the chemistry is there in abundance, yes even then, i may decide to leave it right there, and continue my life without sharing it with this new found treasure. Yet, he/she should always be ready to pick up the signs and the signals, and never let the opportunity pass.

I bet you too dream of a beautiful, cold, mean, calculating and whimsical woman, who has written dominance all over her face, body, and outfits, who really forces you to do things against your will, who takes pride in wearing her leather and boots, a charismatic woman who takes pleasure out of making you suffer, who skillfully whips the pain out of your system, who doesn't give a damn and only lets you stay with her to satisfy her own deep seated sexual urges, locking you up afterwards in a tiny cell, mercilessly leaving you there chained to the floor, deprived of any daylight for days, weeks, even months. In short, a devilish woman, an irresistible bitch, who loves to enslave people, and doesn't need to be persuaded to dominate you, who laughs at all the silly ones who must be awakened and slowly guided into dominating their 'slaves' by........yes sir, wait for it........... by their ‘slaves’, hahahaha. 

To get what you want, you have to take risks. Even the risk of massive failure, disappointment, and over the top stress. Could even lead to altering your wants, your desires, and treasured convictions!  But failure can only exist if the results of your actions are compared with the status quo situation you are in now, with some anchor presumed by you to be of value. Why would you do that?  Your yearning for slavery (or dominance) can never be really lessened if you simultaneously need, want, or try, to follow up on the norms, values, expectations, laws, and etiquette of the vanilla world. You know that! These two worlds are incomparable by definition. You know that too! So why take the risk to feel failure, and consequently quit, give up, and settle for something you essentially despise? What? You have to take what life gives you? Rofl! What a traditional way of thinking. Now that’s what I’d call negative submission! What a passive approach. What a lame excuse for aborting your destiny. Well, I’m different.  I force out of life what I want! I squeeze from it the nectar I love to gargle with. And life thanks me for that, as it cherishes people who are not standing in line, waiting to be served! And you know what? Many vanillas admire me for that, envy me, and want to be my friend. Not my slave though (grin).

I admit though, to many my way of living comes across as too extreme, too scary, too farfetched, maybe even considered impossible. But again, it's also what many are dreaming of. Still, if it’s not for you, don’t even try. True, the feminine femdom world empowers beyond belief, sets us free from many burdens, frustrations, and platitudes so very common in the vanilla world, but it can also destroy one’s passion in a horrible way, if one cruises that world superficially, not ready to leave the crowd, and compromises are kept alive as a means of (false) security, a (fake) safe-house,  and as a (not really) valuable source for solving (non-existing) problems. 

At the end of the day, the real question is: Are you a slave or domina by nature, by heart, to the core of your being, or were you manipulated/coerced to believe that? The latter is more common you know, because many of you are so desperate to have a r/l taste from what’s spooking in your heads, consuming a major part of your energy, and triggering powerful fantasies, that you would be more than willing to settle for what’s offered to you, instead of going all the way, breaking truly away from vanilla societies, to go beyond the horizon, and to be the domina or slave you really are.

Many are struggling with their identity, scared as they are of same, and keep lingering on without making any crucial decisions. They feel as if they were in a catch 22 situation, paralyzed, unable to move on. But you must! One way or the other. You need to find out who you really are, what you want, feel, and need. Or at least be convinced that what you found is genuine. And if still in doubt, take the road less, or even better, never traveled! Then relentlessly follow that road, and transform it into your highway, il tuo autostrada, je snelweg, su autopista, הכביש המהיר שלך , your stairway to heaven. Go for it, and find out if you were right. Never settle for anything else or less.

Clearly in this last part I wasn’t talking to the wannabes, the pretenders, and the players, but addressing those who truly feel they were meant to live the life of a slave or domina. Even if one belongs to the chosen ones, it still can be hard to follow up on that if one for many years was continuously bombarded, brainwashed and indoctrinated with the norms and values of the vanilla world, in which all of us were forced to grow up in initially. We simply had no choice, and consequently many of us involuntarily were redirected to something we not really wanted, only vaguely remembering what could have been.  Yeah, life can be a real bitch. So if you can’t make it to our side now, it’s still not the end of the line, and chances are you’ll find a way some day. Maybe not all the way, but hey, even Moses got only a glimpse of the Promised Land. So it’s all right. I guess, hehehe. 

Foxy Gems from a Wolf

"I am bored and restless when I'm with people, with their thoughts and ideas, their housemacho/housewife mentalities, their bourgeois souls."

That sums it up. That’s RaposoNeves in a nutshell. That’s the core of his being. Nothing more to say. That’s all. That’s the essence of the man I once laid eyes on in Cyberspace, and from that time on exchanged lots of thoughts with, ranging from world politics to femdom, from silly stuff to grim events, from wit embedded in humor to illusions claimed to be scientific fact, and whilst doing same, found also plenty of time to make fun of other people, laugh at their incredibly ridiculous seriousness, irritate them, and made them (against their will) attack, ignore, and ban us from their sacred blogs, groups, forums, or you have what. Well, ahem, me being the victim of the latter more than him. He’s not a man of many words you know, often keeping quiet, and way too bored with all the noise coming his way and pestering his eardrums, that he could be interested in paying attention to it, left alone responding to all the crap. Sometimes he’s overdoing it though. Then I don’t even know if he’s still alive. And it worries me. Once I became so nervous and fed up with his silence that I wrote him this: U keep commenting u hear. U even should do it more! It's a great way to irritate these lame idiots, who present themselves as the crème de la crème of the avant-garde, i.e. femdom. Besides, some people should provide at least a little bit of counterweight to the avalanche of nonsense continuously rolling down the mountain eh?  It's one of the reasons i go out there, and ridicule these less than mediocre clowns/clones.

Nonetheless one could easily say we’re a team, even to the extent that some mentally handicapped louse, who recently tried to build his stinky nest in one of my genuine fox fur ponchos, had nothing better to do than screeching that we actually were one person. Understandable of course, as it doesn’t happen too often in the life of lame human pests to be allowed to sit in the same place, and mind you, at the same time, with individuals who never were part of the vanilla crowd these pests can’t live without. Yes, it must be hard, unbearable, and frustrating to them when confronted with people who made it their habit to routinely question their own comfort zones and welcome the abysses of uncertainty, while named pests can only be a clone of the society they randomly and accidentally  were propelled into. The creepy thing is though, that while most clones manage to live quite happily and reasonably care-free, the pests and parasites among them will deny the reality of their lives, and instead, as a defense mechanism, are taking themselves very seriously, even considering themselves gifts from heaven, reborn powerhouses of spirituality and sexuality. But they're nothing. At best they’re like dust in the wind, possibly still having some tiny bit of potential, but squandering same out of fear to become substantial.

Meh, now where did that come from eh? Ok, back to the main subject of foxes and wolves now! Or would that be wolves and foxes? Oh come on, don’t be a pest! Remember uncertainty? Embrace it!

Of course there’s more to RaposoNeves than what was revealed by the quote above. There’s a reason for a human being to invade a wolf’s existence, ruthlessly taking over that proud, unique, and untamed animal’s life, and then going to run around in fox clothing, occasionally even fooling people, like master Reynard fooled mistress Crow, wouldn’t you agree? 

So, for you folks to get a better grasp on what’s boiling under the surface, I surrounded him with a few female celebrities whose characters, ahem, come close to my assessment of his. 

Note: To make this a clean read, remember that anything from Raposo gets this color, while my stuff gets the usual blue when it concerns the here and now, and this green when it's a quote from whenever, also easily to recognize by my former spelling ;) Other people will get yellow (or something else, hehe)

Cameron Diaz 

My dad always used to tell me that if they challenge you to an after-school fight, tell them you won’t wait ------ you can kick their ass right now!

RaposoNeves

“To contribute to the conversation" around these parts means saying the same as everybody else, just with different words.

Maria Callas

Don’t talk to me about rules dear. Wherever I stay I make the goddamn rules.

RaposoNeves

A housewife with a strap-on dildo and a riding crop is still a housewife, and without the sex-shop toys and consensual submission there isn’t much “dominance” left, eh? But nobody is excluded here, and if you are a “woman vaguely interested in running the show sexually”, you can be interviewed and contribute to the femdomme noise on the internet sex-blog circuit.

Ayesha Fonseca

Although i'm using the words body and soul separately myself at times, it should be clear that my body is my soul, and my soul is my body, while sometimes my body and soul r the soul and body of the one i'm walking with in the forest, holding hands, making lusty love, and sharing tears with in the rain.

RaposoNeves

Hehe, you can playfully refer to me as a wolf, but I must take care not to do it too much myself, eh? It's pathetic when lame humans see themselves as a soaring eagle, a lone wolf, or some other proud, strong and free animal.

Jane Austin

I do not want people to be agreeable, as it saves me that trouble of liking them.

RaposoNeves

A woman on horseback is a beautiful and inspiring image. Kindergarten femdom has ‘ponyboy play’. What could have been a beautiful and free woman is placed on top of a shaky man. And happily they go hopping or crawling along.

Ayn Rand

The question isn't who's going to let me; it's who is going to stop me.

RaposoNeves

Hell, I can't even get real satisfaction out of the hottest femdom pics. I definitely need to come face to face with the real thing. Sweat a little, bleed a little, crawl and shed some hard tears... Meet a woman who has a notion about the power of boots and gloves. Get a little emotion and passion into this cynical body. Maybe feel a little ecstasy and... love? Fuck! Tough love! Cruel and merciless. The type that grips you like a claw inside, your guts, your heart.

 

Jeanne Moreau

Dans la vie il n'y a que deux choses qui sont infinies.... La féminité et les moyens d'en abuser...!

RaposoNeves

Yaaa, nonconsensual, my favorite word! Having to accept, and bend to 

her will. Having to obey her, beyond wanting to be obedient. This is the essence, the rest is just details...

Ayesha Fonseca

The kind of love that makes u want to do things u don't want to do at all. The kind of love that makes u seek things u don't want to find. The kind of love that makes u endure things u want to avoid no matter what. The kind of love that takes u to places where u will cease to exist. The kind of love that devours u with a love that surpasses love.

Ah, now you are getting it eh? Now you’ve gotten a glimpse of what’s cooking under the massive foliages of the wildernesses existing far from the metropolises of the pudding society, you are more intrigued then ever to know more, aren’t you? Or maybe not? You had enough already? This is not your cup of tea? Bored too? Perhaps your time is up and you need to go to finish the long due laundry of your goddess now? Or could it be you forgot to spank your hubbie for getting a hard-on during his time off in the shower, and now you simply have to correct this immediately? Well, you are excused.  Of course you are. You are free to go. Yes, you there in the back too. And you, and you, and all of you. How could I possibly stop you eh? This is Cyberspace remember, where even pests can present themselves as free, brave, honorable, and open minded citizens. Hmmmm, even in real life I wouldn’t want you to stay, as I only want those who wouldn’t think of leaving me, no matter what. And I wouldn’t let them either! So, no hard feelings, you can go back now to the safety of your cozy comfort zone. Maybe come back later, when you’ve channeled your fear for our reality a bit, when your ruffled feathers returned to their usual state, or you feel that urge again to inhale the air of the forbidden? Whatever it is, think it over sweeties, as you wouldn’t want to miss what’s still coming.

As for the rest of you who couldn’t leave, or were brave enough to stay?  Come closer. It’s getting more intense now. No, no, no, no need to be afraid.  Again, this is only virtual remember. This is not That Place. And it isn’t the Labyrinth either! Huh? The Labyrinth? What’s that? You don’t know? I never told you about it? Maybe you forgot? Nah, I don’t think you would ever forget about the Labyrinth had I told you about it. Mea culpa. Maybe I’ll correct this omission and write about it in a future blog. For now it should be enough for you to know it’s a huge underground construction in the shape of an ancient Aztec temple built to maximize illusions, where rooms, corridors, and staircases, depending on the distribution of light, look identical, but are not. Or as I almost a year ago explained to Raposo: It's a world full of hidden messages. A place where illusions r deliberately created by me, to fool slaves, to make them believe stuff, and finally show them how brutal their reality actually is, how inescapable, and way beyond their wildest fantasies about femdom. That's what makes me hot. In more than one sense of the word, hehehe.

But like I said, you are far from it. Far from where I am. You’re safe.  Really. Trust me. Nothing to fear (for now).

 

Death/Abandonment

  

In an old message to this group, Ronald points out to another group member that slavery could mean being locked up permanently, or even being killed. That sums it up quite well, how can it be any other way? 

What is the worst thing a slave to a dominant woman can suffer at the hands of his owner? Death? No it can't be that. If it is a sound domina/slave relationship, the way I figure it, the slave should want to die for his mistress. Hm, well at least in the most passionate moments... Anyway, if not exactly wanting to die, a slave will of course love his owner so deeply that he wouldn't mind dying for her if it should come to that. In such a relationship, there can't possibly be lukewarm emotions and half-hearted commitments, as often is the case in what is called the vanilla world. 

When I was a kid, around 13 years old, I read an interview with a woman who said that she takes great pleasure in dismissing a slave, sending him away for good, when she is finished with him. Even as young as I was, I could sense the cruelty of such a thing, and I never forgot that. But interestingly, I didn't think that she was wrong in her heartless action, I only knew that it would be very hard for those who have to go through something like that. 

All this, just to create an opportunity to re-post a gem from the archives of this group, written by Ayesha: "Yesssss, isn't it delicious? To see u begging, and this time REAL begging, - not the usual theatrical crap u come up with most of the times -, to see fear and agony take over ur existence, sweat dripping from ur naked body, which is still carrying the marks from my lashings and my boots, caressing u, holding u close to my leather clad body, letting u inhale the scent of me, giving u the impression that ur whimpering could make a difference, making u feel at ease again, opening ur skin with those sharp thin needles from my vampire gloves, bringing ur dick to life once more, and then....... turning away from u, leaving u there on the filthy blood stained floor,abandoning u forever."

Hot stuff! Puta que pariu! Who the heck said that my little scenario in #6068 about leaving a man on the floor had atmosphere?!?

Um…......so what was in #6068? It was this: 

Here's another scenario then: Ron looking at Ayesha, handing her the whip. She takes it and walks away.

Maybe he kneels, overwhelmed by his desire to submit and surrender to her. His forehead touches the floor in front of her. And he hears her footsteps as she walks away, leaving him there. Poor Ron would spend the rest of his days looking for dominatrixes that resemble her, paying to be whipped out of his misery.

Yes, rather tame indeed :)

Note: The group Raposo is referring to is AST, and Ronald/Ron is a valued member of same.

Whipping

Natsuki! My god, she's so beautiful the way she "does" her partner in her "Bullwhip training" DVD.

And what if she had a crew that would capture her sensuality even better? Or to think what an encounter like that can be like, in a more intimate atmosphere, when there is only the woman and her slave. No distractions. And no small chains and carbine hooks!

In my ignorance I used to believe that a serious whipping would automatically lead to ugly destruction after just a few strokes. But then you showed me Natsuki, and a fantastic aspect of femdom was unlocked in me. What an awesome part of being a man; to be thoroughly and beautifully beaten up like that. 

And, he-he... if one can get a fine erection after something like that, maybe make passionate love, in mad devotion to the wonderful woman! Aargh! 

Like i explained many times already, my whips and i r inseparable. We belong to each other like the sea and its shore, or an amazon and her horse.  From a very early age on i was fascinated with them. The first time i saw one in action was the time my parents took me to a circus. From that day on i knew, one day i would own one.  I often carry one with me, like other women carry a purse. Women like Ferns will never acquire my skill for the simple reason they're afraid of them, and never will have the urge and passion to use them to the max of their potential, ranging from a softly seducing breeze caressing the skin of a slave, making him/her shivering from anticipation and almost fainting from unbearable lust, to the thundering fury of an unstoppable typhoon, making a total mess of the outside of her/his body, but converting that nightmare to a dream come true inside that person.

"Ashtray"

This one I once intended to be a separate blog. At that time wolfman Raposo wasn’t really happy with my idea, and as the good Samaritan that I am, I hesitated and lingered and postponed and kept thinking it over and over and over again. Don’t irritate a fox too much. Is that not how the saying goes? Anyway, one can’t do to a fox what Megan does to men. What? You don’t know what she’s doing? Where have you been? Thought you knew about foxes. Well, apparently not! So for all you ignorant ones: "Hold your head high, and your middle finger higher. Let him know what he’s missing". See? I couldn’t say that to Raposo.  Still, I dusted his prose off a bit, read it again, and......there was no other way, I simply had to incorporate this gem in this blog.  It’s the least I could do, no? I mean, for it not completely to disappear into the mists of oblivion eh?  Mind you though, without going through with my original plan, ergo not too many comments from my side.  Just mainly his original. Raw, unedited, and unspoiled.

Oh btw, Martin is a man from Vienna, who loves to call himself slavepig Martin,  and who gets extremely horny when close to, or far away, from cigar smoking hotties, young and old, especially when the cigars are long and fat.  He’s also a member of AST. I promised him the next time I’m visiting Vienna, I would sit with him in einer kleinen Konditorei bei Kuchen und Tee, but I’m not so sure that I will keep that promise. You’re outraged by that? I should honor my promise? You think? Um......er.......do you have any idea what you are trying to get a woman like me into? Hmmm, guess not!  Here, get a taste, and then come back to me and tell me again I still have to keep my word! Grrrrrr!

Um, btw, ……..listen up……I suggest you go to the bathroom first, as this part of this rather big entry, is a loooooong one by itself! And after it? Yesssss, mooooooore to come. Don’t you just love it? Of course you will notice (if you hadn’t so already) Raposo’s great insight in femdom and the souls of men who think they are slaves but are not, as well as his capability to keep things short, simple, yet mega intriguing and to the point. Really great prose. 

On the floor beside a comfortable chair or sofa is a man in tight metal and leather restraints. He cannot move an inch, his face points upwards, and his mouth is held open by a special gag. It's a beautiful sight, and that's even before there is a woman in the picture. Nice start.

For a while there was total silence, after he had been put in position and were left alone. Then she came, and now there are sounds, her sounds. And the aroma of her fine cigar. 

Time passes slowly in that room, and he breathes quietly, trying not to let the slightest sound disturb her. There is an ashtray on her table, but today it's him and her. He feels so incredibly close to her, and his erection pulsates with the beat of his heart. "Poc"... "Poc"... 

---------

Aah! Back to earth... Domina and slave in an intimate moment there. No words are needed, if she doesn't feel like speaking to him. She will get up and leave when she's finished there, and he will stay until he is released. Maybe she will look at him as she gets up, and maybe smile down at him. Maybe not. His love for her doesn't depend on it. 

This one gave me a dripping hard-on when I elaborated it a bit in my head, but I'll leave it to people to create the details for themselves, according to individual tastes. 

If there's a grid in the gag, preventing the cigar, or the stub of it when she is finished, from falling into his mouth and choking him, then the human ashtray could be just as good as an ordinary ashtray, I guess.

  

Then I dared to say:

I'm familiar with this fantasy of cors, but i prefer a conventional ashtray. Simply comes in handier than the mouth of a silly man. Just like i prefer a comfortable recliner, above balancing on a slave's back. I think all this male fantasy crap is more suitable for pros and vanilla women who want to please their husbands, bf's, and what more, so they can keep on manipulating and ruling them like Eve. Lilith and i only can mock and dismiss these types.

That did it. That was too much for the old fox. And he replied:

Ugh! Not a silly man, that ruins the whole thing. Not a man that has it as his lifetime goal to be an ashtray for women. I always viewed the human ashtray fantasy as a silly game of degradation, and it never appealed to me. Then a drawing I saw, suddenly changed things a bit, and it inspired this fantasy in me. And I keep getting a nice arousal when I think about it. In my head, it is about a lot more than eating the ash from a woman's cigar. But putting those male submissive longings and feelings to words in an intelligent way is a challenge.

She made him her ashtray for some reason, it wasn't to satisfy him. I like free and independent women, and a woman that is manipulated by men and their wishes is of course not attractive to a man like me. I even love the idea of women who are emotionally closest to other women, so it is difficult to imagine myself having any place in their lives. 

It's a simple fact: When i'm with a woman it surpasses anything and everything which i ever experienced with a man. Not any woman of cors. I don't see me with a Ferns or a DD, hahahaha. I'm talking about women like me! Predators. Predators not giving a rat's ass about vanilla lovemaking. And don't get me wrong: Slaves can be predators too. And feminine slaves r defined by it. 

 

There was an ashtray on her table, to keep things a little in perspective, to keep reality in the picture. I am on the whole too down to earth in these matters, and it would do me good to fantasize more. I've lost a bit of the richness I once had inside. 

 

Then Martin coughed up a few words in his usual cliché way, while I hadn’t picked up yet the depth of Raposo’s message entirely.

But he’s right you know. I realized later that sometimes a drawing has something that goes beyond what it’s supposed to picture in relation to daily life, or more to the point, what’s going on in the d/s world. Like it is with the whole ashtray crap, I can only mock what is called pony-play (yuck, yuck, yuck) and laugh at people who engage in that. But look at the next picture. Is there not something in it which goes beyond that silly game? Even when the accompanying text is joking about the scene? To me it has. Not that I would hurry now , hastily change into riding gear, climb on a man’s back, and joyfully ride off into the sunset. No, not that, but looking at that drawing arouses me still.

Here’s another one, which recently I found in Richard’s place. You remember Richard, no? He’s that famous collector from Femdom Artists eh?  This time I hardly tampered with it. By itself, the scene is rather silly, and for sure belongs to the back alleys of vanilla femdom. Still it has that indefinable extra, so often lacking in other drawings of its genre.

But instead of paying more attention to what sublime master Raposo was trying to get across, I kept on joking, and wrote among other things: Guess he devoured all of her cigar already. No smoke to see. This triggered: You don't see any smoke because she pissed a pint and a half on the stub in there, to put out the fire. Then she leaves him overnight to enjoy the aroma of that soaked ex-cigar.

Now that’s a reply I can appreciate! Even in a dark hour, Raposo can see the lighter side, still able to come up with a sharp counter punch without losing perspective, and keeping a sound dose of humor upright as well. I cried from laughing (while typing this I had to again, hehehe) and continued with: Sounds like preaching to the perverted, but u should know that Jim would be extremely pissed off, if he would know a pissed on cigar disappeared through his funnel!

Ah yes, it's difficult to please all the people. I pleased Martin with my post, and after his assault on my beautiful fantasy, I should be pleased that I still manage to imagine myself in strict restraints close to a dominant woman. But I do, with my heart and cock and my whole damn being! And I don't look ridiculous at all. At least not in my fantasy I don't. 

What I see in that Jim-drawing is something that isn't far away from feminine femdom. In the beginning I didn't even see a human ashtray in it, I only saw a stunningly beautiful woman enslaving a man and doing what she wants with him. I uploaded it here with the title "Ashtray", but that is much too limiting for my taste. It should be called something else, something sexy and erotic.

I had the pleasure of sharing time with a cigar smoking woman a few weeks ago. We sat on her porch and had a good time in each other's company, and the thought of being her ashtray didn't even cross my mind. Martin will laugh at me, and say that I'm not a true and devoted cigar slave at all. 

Still in a teasing mode I couldn’t resist uploading this video, accompanied by: U can't fool me. I know who that was!

 

As it turned out, Raposo liked the clip. What a relief (sigh). Martin? Oh, he responded with more cliché nonsense. Quite pathetic too. Like most men resort to when watching beautiful women (yeah yeah, ugly and fat ones as well, jeeezz) who make it their business to make men drool over a fake scenario.

Oh my, that's quite a woman!!! And it's not a bad job she does there. She is Austrian, it seems... Martin? Pssst! She's got no ashtray... Do you think she has a calm, commanding voice, or does she control you with just a little gesture, maybe just a look? Bah! I'm getting horny here myself... But I wouldn't be surprised if Martin would want her to scream to him something about him being a useless slavepig, so I'll help him a little:

See her eyes, Martin. She's not interested in having to aim for your drooling, gaping mouth. She just lets the ash drop to the floor, isn't that easy! Now she looks at you, the look of a beautiful woman that is used to being obeyed by men. Can you take care of her ash, in a way that pleases and excites her, Martin? Can you unite with her, be a part of her smoking experience. Can you find a way to such a beautiful woman's heart? Show her that your passion for a beautiful and arrogant cigar smoking woman can manifest itself in a way that strives to match the beauty that she is when she smokes her cigar! 

Mmmm, the floor tastes good! Of course --- you are connecting with her. 

She studies you from above. A lot of men can't get themselves up again when they get down before her. Sometimes she helps them with a soft-spoken command, if she likes them. Sometimes she just walks away.

Like Monique Vegas in the video, the woman I spent time with also like French manicure on her fingernails. She spent part of her childhood in a tobacco field: "My mother caught me smoking when I was a girl, and she beat the desire to be a smoker out of me. But I still enjoy smoking a cigar now and then." And I've been told she enjoys it more, more freely, and more frequently now, after my visit. That makes me happy, although I worry about her lungs :-) 

See, Martin? Now I can enjoy the thought of a fine woman smoking for her own pleasure, and I know she remembers me fondly and would be pleased to have me there with her. It certainly isn't femdom, and she is not a dominant woman. But I am sure you get the point, because you are not a slavepig, as you claim to be. You would like to sit across the table from a cigar-smoking woman and have an entertaining conversation with her, knowing that she liked you for the person you are. You could excuse yourself and go to the bathroom to relieve yourself if the pressure became too much to bear. And later you would simply go to a professional dominatrix and ask her to humiliate you and help you live the fantasy that cannot happen in reality. Slavepig is only a childish "title" that you hide behind in your online game. You are the only member who comes forward in this group, and insists on his fetish and sexual desires. But instead of being a person, and describing your fantasies, you upload dreary and depressing images from the silly circus called owk, where clumsy and inelegant women make fools of themselves.

 

Um……..“Sometimes she just walks away.”?  Mostly we just walk away.

I know. There is truly an abyss that separates the traditional "woman on top" kink that's based on the men's desire to submit, from the femdom that you, and women like you, represent. This has already been explained several times in this group, and I came years too late to take part in those exchanges. So what else is there to do these days, other than to continue my little improvisation over the video of that gorgeous woman and her sexy cigar!

I love all animals, and I'm not into discrimination. But the ability to get 

down really low, without the belly touching the ground, is what separates a pig from a sleek lizardman like Raposo Neves. So if that woman were walking away from me, she could be doing so while smiling to herself and saying "see you later...... alligator."

She's gone. But there are remains of her presence in his vibrating nostrils. The delicious smell of that beautiful woman. Her perfume, the leather of her coat, the aroma of her cigar. There is a... howl! inside of him, and his cock is leaking and dripping like an animal. But he didn't lose his cool, not even when she had him down, licking the floor for her. 

She remembers the hunger in his eyes. With a gesture of her finger she could have made him follow her, proud and obedient, to wherever she would want him to go with her. Men like him don't need a lot of explanations and detailed instructions. They simply obey a certain type of women, without any hassle, and with an ease and elegance that comes naturally to them.

Maybe the two of them really does see each other again? Maybe her "see you later" really meant that? Maybe she takes him, and shows him who the real animal is.

Maybe she would show him the real animal inside him, still caged, ready to follow her to his new cage.

The owk took men's sexual fantasies, and turned the fantasies into fantasy... eh... or something like that. A professional dominatrix is a sex worker that tries to recreate fantasies. She tries as best she can to imitate a dominant and strict woman. And today there are a lot of men that fantasize about the dominatrixes, as if they were dominant ladies. Isn't that funny when you think about it. I've heard rumours that kinky people are above average intelligent and creative,haha. I am happy that I am not a kinky man. 

And speaking about trixies and kinky people: As I am speaking about ashes here, an American sex worker posts on her website a photo of a human ashtray that is so silly and revolting that I almost regret having started this topic. Look what happens when kinky people start messing around with the beautiful submissive fantasies of decent people! Arrrgh! Well, hm... actually, what happened here was rather that I started with the silly fantasies of kinky people. 

You are so clever that I cannot find words. People here have no idea how brilliant you are, behind the intelligence and the things that they admire you for. From now on it's more likely that it is my eyes that will be dripping — my heart can get so horny sometimes when I hang around in your presence.

 ---------------------

The hunger in his eyes when he sees her passing by in her favourite riding boots. Maybe she has been out, uniting with the elements. He longs for the smell of earth, the trees, the ocean. She knows how much he loves nature. He always did. But he could never enjoy it, until he became free, under her unyielding rule. 

She knows how to use her eyes, her sense of smell, taste, and all her senses.And he shivers when he thinks about the pleasures she enjoys. Sometimes she tells him about it, and he cannot help but weep at times. He belongs to this beautiful and exceptional woman.

She looks at him, her caged beast, and he looks at her. There is no dishonesty between them. His own senses are more acute than ever, and one day she may take him out and let him unite with nature again. Or maybe not.

When she's close, in her tight trousers and dirty boots, beautiful as one who is free to walk on clouds, he thinks about those pictures he saw. There were always men on the ground, desperate to lick her boots. But the artist didn't capture half of what he sees. He snarls at her, and she laughs. Maybe it's too late already for a rabies vaccine? I'm surprised you've lasted this long with all the mud licking. He howls with laughter, and coughs up a little foam.Yeah,who would have thought. He always thought he wanted to be owned by a woman in shiny clean leather boots, but life can bring surprises. Better throw me in the incinerator as soon as I expire, he says, I'm so damn full of toxics and pollution.

He's alone again. He remembers the days of restlessness. Up the hillsides and down on the other side, as if he was pursuing the damn horizon. He never pursued anything, he just wanted to wear himself out and be able to sleep without dreams at night. But he fell from earth one night, and into the stars.

There are something that resembles goddesses walking on earth. They are leaving their tracks in the fields and forests. Maybe the mark of a riding boot that stepped in clay will be preserved for posterity, covered up by vegetation, for no man to see. "When goddesses stalked the earth?" No. It's not a joke. They fall from the stars, and for a while they're here, before they disappear.

Now who was that again telling us he wasn’t able to put some atmosphere in his words? Oh yes, it was that wolf in fox clothing behaving like a rooster that lost his cockscomb.  Well, I think all will agree with me (oh hello ladies from the dominant wives tribe …….um…..not all eh?) that Raposo is a master story teller, a man who knows what he’s talking about.  He writes prose rarely to be found in the blogs of these self proclaimed d/s people! His work is actually of a different dimension, absolutely not in one league with all these mediocre self-repeating diaries with which the Internet gradually became infested and contaminated!

His goddesses remark? I responded to that on a different occasion, but it fits in here as well. Here is the significant part of it:

We both consider the whole deity stuff, and all that's related to it, ridiculous and total bs. BUT.........if there would exist such thing, without any doubt, i would be a Goddess, and THE goddess of the whole pantheon! And i would look down on the world, with anger, compassion, disgust, and a need to build and destroy. Sometimes from a distance. Sometimes being amidst the crowd. Sometimes away from it all, alone with my darkness, sorrow, and pain. I would rule only the ones who i would consider to possess at least some of my passion and intensity. The rest would simply be my cattle, not to be ruled at all. Just there to be slaughtered at my whim, to work for me, to be manipulated by me, or to be fed to the sharks. Same as it is now in my actual life.

In that setting u could be a God, sitting there, apart from the crowd, keeping his distance from the morons plagued by indifference, ignorance, and plain stupidity, but connected to the few who he feels r his people. Of cors, being a deity and all, u could also choose to be a silly one, one with a religion and worshippers, one who would be complaining about the morons surrounding him from a distance, hating them, seeking ways to punish them, and allowing them to rule his life, his thoughts, and his distance!

Women

A woman that is aware of the sexual and erotic content of the things she wears (as opposed to just wearing it because it looks good or is in fashion), is a gigantic turn-on! A woman that has confidence and attitude that match her good looks and sexy outfit — how I miss seeing that! An attractive and sexy woman, that even with a touch of arrogance about her, is open and responsive to her surroundings when she's in public places.

I miss seeing that. I love to make eye contact with women on the street. Exchange smiles with the more confident and relaxed ones, if the situation leads to that. 

When a woman comes close, I already know what she's wearing, because I've had her in my radar for some time. It could be a pair of sexy boots, but I prefer to look into her eyes, and have a tiny little contact thing happening. 

I give great, sometimes obsessive, importance to the things women wear. I admire and fetishize certain objects of female clothing and accessories, and a number of various styles of dress. Much of it is not what is known as fetish wear, but tasteful or sexy outfits of "normal" clothes go well with my tremendous desire to experience femdom that is for real, and totally disconnected from agreed upon play scenes. 

Poetry

I became a poet, for a period, a long time ago, when I desperately needed an outlet for unbearable thoughts and feelings that had built up in me. I came across an old typewriter, and I found a way of writing that suited me. And the poetry that came out was of so great importance to me that I cannot find words. But after a while, I had emptied myself, and when I tried to continue writing, the poetry was forced and artificial. What was "genuine" and personal had already come out, and I was no longer a poet that had anything to say to myself. So I stopped, and that was that. 

And the great thing is that I wrote poems in a style very similar to yours! 

So all this time you had someone in your audience who has a special relationship with your way of writing poetry! I'm no longer a poet, but it is good to have been one. When I saw poems like Unrest and Today for the first time, they were already familiar to me, in a way. And the feelings you describe there, it took no effort at all for me to grasp those things, what you're talking about there, and to understand a bit about who you are. But I kept quiet about that. 

 

Confession

Yes I am terribly frustrated, and even angry sometimes. There is too much noise in the world. I don't like to see people expose their enormous shortcomings. I like them to be quiet, and keep a profile that is proportional to their limited intellectual and emotional capabilities. My frustration is because of that, not because I don't see anybody that suits my perverted sexuality. I'm not online looking for sex partners. 

Apart from the occasional erotic image that I pick up, I'm online for one purpose: To see what Ayesha says and writes. And to talk to her. We are both on Yahoo, an excellent place to meet and talk casually about whatever topic. We talk serious, and we invent jokes. We listen to music, and we talk about sex. You just see me in this group, where I only talk about sex, as if I was obsessed with erections and dripping hard-ons.  And a boner now and then, hehe.

Ayesha, by the way, isn't afraid to let her hungry cat drip and snarl a little in public, online. She's a great inspiration! Not that my hot dog is the most interesting thing in this world of female-oriented femdom, but it is what I've got, to express that part of myself. Femdom may be "all about her, and what she wants", but we can't go on repeating that phrase endlessly, can we? 

This is a real part of real life. You, Marty, Ayesha, Rita, Silver and I meet here and talk. It is not a fantasy world. But I enjoy a moment of springtime here in the Slavetrader. My hormones run wild with so much excitement, and I shove my duck into the freshly plowed dirt and let the sun kiss my ass! 

I ain't old and wise enough to know better. Not yet, not yet!

Epilogue

So there you have it. And although I never disclosed any of his really private stuff because nobody around here is entitled to know about that, you now know about RaposoNeves, the man who wants to be a wolf, a fox in the snow. He can’t be them. Not yet, not yet. But he’s a giant among us mortals, a free man of a purity seldom seen, a reluctant gladiator never meant to fight mental dwarfs, a deliciously grumbling worker taking up menial jobs and hard labor without complaining and resigning from them whenever he sees fit to do so, a poet lost, a formidable writer, a non-vanilla psychologist with unseen insight in himself and others, an eroded and damaged rock unyieldingly breaking the surf of high seas and powerful alpine avalanches, a majestic wolf not to be enslaved. A Man!

We both acknowledge the banality of life, abhor the unbelievable obscenities taking place on a grand scale in the name of God, greed, the Fatherland, or any other thinkable /unthinkable icon/scapegoat, and yet we know how to devour and enjoy the beauty and intensity of it as well, no matter the paradoxical contradictions we regularly choose to endure, while impatiently waiting for and/or creating the next opportunity to walk away from it all ....... again and again! 

You made it all the way down till here? Damn, you too must belong to the elite, a.k.a. people made of the right stuff. Come follow me now even a little bit deeper into the abyss of self-awareness, unconsciousness, lust, and pain. Let's dive into some refreshing hot lava! Or, is that magma perhaps? Let's find out!