Monday, February 18, 2013

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!


“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.


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.


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.


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.


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...!


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).


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… 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.


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.


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? 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!


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. 


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. 



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!


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!


  1. @death/abandonment: Walking away might be a cruel gesture - in the shorthand.
    Yet living beings tend to mend, and turn away, towards new ones, and to forget, however dire the original sensation might have been.
    In contrast to that only actually wielding the ultimate power one is holding, means establishing that power. Anything else rather feels like mere imaginary exercise or worse: evasivness.

  2. I never forget. I don't want to. I cherish all that happened and is happening to me, as I'm the one who made and makes it happen. I want all of it to stay a part of me. I grew and grow because of that.

    Ah yes power, that sneaky little thingy. Go and learn about it here:

  3. Sixteen tons, what are they paying you Foxy? Come work for me. Satan

    1. LoL! Sixteen tons of fossil fuel, and here comes the man with THE furnace!

  4. I accept what has gone only because I have no time machine. She looked like the girl in the picture above. Except her hair was not quite shoulder length. And her eyebrows were paler. I mean the picture of the girl on the swing. As she walked away she glanced back as she always did. But that time it was not a real smile. She would have found a way back, if I had made love to her. But that time I only had sex with her. I knew she would not be back. It was my way to let her go. Where would your time machine take you?

  5. Yes. If my time machine would work I'd go both ways.

  6. wow i mean jezus h i am speechless, kinda...just wanted to submit a note to say i was here, like staking a flag on the moon or something, and will be back to read more when i have time.. so far i made it thru 1/3 the way down on this page hopefully its where i should begin. i feel inspired and a lil abused somehow err tortured...not sure if its supposed to be that way anyway bbl to sort this place out...


  7. Hello Ayesha, long time! Been in a slump a bit, parents getting older, relationship as well, but working on both, I'm seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, and it shines brightly, beckoning.. ;-)

    Glad to see your comments on dying for your domina, very much in line now with my thinking. When there is admiration, respect, love for your partner then yes, I'd die for my partner. When you respect, love, admire someone, anyone, I'm willing do whatever to protect, serve, fight, kill to make sure that someone is safe. Yes, raposo, I'll be their ashtray as well ;-)



    Regarding that walking away

    1. Death and dying shouldn't be taken lightly, Ronald, as sometimes they're closer than you can imagine.