"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."
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"...
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.
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.
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.
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!
