Femdom...........a chat

Some time ago, when Yahoo 360 was still around, i was chatting with a man who was looking to become a slave to a woman. He seemed quite serious about this, but nevertheless belonged to the cohorts, infected by the never ending saga of mainstream d/s, where femdom is mostly seen as some service to the male gender, whether paid for, or practiced free of charge, during munches, in fetish clubs, or simply when the 9 – 5 chores r done, in places hidden from the kids. As i stated many times b4, there’s nothing wrong with that, if u r in the league of recreational players, or too afraid to really become a slave. Slavery is only for a few. And even they run occasionally into problems with me.

The slave in statu nascendi i was referring to, wanted it all. Yes sir, all of it! Well, that’s what he said, although the demanding little voice of MyEgo whispered to me: “Ayesha dear, he doesn’t know what he is talking about.” And u know, she’s right. She’s always right. Well, most of the times eh? At times i have to disagree with her. But only for not losing control over the brat. She’s a wild one, who wants me to do things to people, which make even me shiver.

Back to my hungry prospect now. Geeez, i’m so easily distracted, when writing a blog, about something i already wrote so many times about. But that’s me, no discipline whatsoever! Anyway, back to him, i must say, although he’s a rookie, yes very much so, i loved the way he was struggling with his tendencies, and also his background, which was the military. Hmmmm, come to think of it, i never asked him if he ever was under fire, or only a soldier at ease and peace, safely programming battles in the barracks, or worse, in the plush offices of Nato headquarters, lol. The ones who r familiar with my background, know that military women and men, who were exposed to what they were trained for, enjoy a special place in my heart.

I won’t give away his name nor Yahoo-ID, and leave it up to him, if he’d ever read this blog, to react and/or reveal himself to the public here, or not.

As i’m convinced, there r a few shy ones lurking around here, lacking the courage to ask me more specific about my way of living, even fearing my answers, i decided to transfer some (edited) crucial lines of our private dialogue to this blog. That way some of them could also come to their senses, b4 approaching me with the desire to join me and my crew on the wild side of feminine femdom for the rest of their days

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Oh……btw…… u’ll notice how many times i ‘m repeating myself to get my message through, as this one, no matter how serious and willing he came across to me, is very hardheaded and a rather poor listener, hindered as he is by a bunch of vanilla paradigms, larded with mainstream bdsm axioms, and infected with male logic and Cartesian rationalism.

Well……….here goes. Finally!

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Me:

During our chat the other day, and from what u could have deducted from what u read on my 360 page, i wonder if it became clear to u, that i'm not dwelling in the land of frustrated housewives, men hating lesbians, pro-dommes, and other part-timers, claiming to have a passion for femdom. I disconnected myself from the vanilla world, and all of its ‘kinky’ variants, a very long time ago, only mingling with its citizens, organizations, and institutions, when i see fit to exploit and use it for my daily chores, travel, business, etc. I created my own world, a feminine femdom world, within which there is no place for vanilla protocols, rites, laws, rules, clichés, and other banalities like fetish parties, and training cq educating of ‘slaves’, enfin all the things i wrote about already in named 360 blogs.

I told u, i’m not looking for slaves in Cyberspace. As a matter of fact, i’m not looking at all. When i meet someone i want to own, i just take him/her. With me there r no negotiations, building relationships, contracts, or whatever seems to be common in vanilla d/s circles. U should have picked this up by now as well. With me it’s a one way road. A slave has no vote.

The mere fact, that u r searching for a domina, shows how far u r from my way of living. Women like me r not to be found. U have to wait, till she makes u her own. I know, this is very difficult for the eager to be ‘enslaved’ ones, but there’s no other way within the realm of feminine femdom. Therefore, for the majority of these hungry ones, it’s best to stay with the stock of cardboard dungeon exploiting pro’s, and good willing submissive females, who give in to the desires and wishes of their friends, and spouses, to play the role of a domina. To go all the way, is only for a few. Males and females alike.

Tip for ur quest: Anybody, who uses prefixes like goddess, empress, mistress, etc etc, and worse, putting in front of those an adjective like for instance, evil, cruel, strict, etc etc, is not passionate about femdom as a way of living, and not to be taken seriously. Forget also the ones, who insist to write W/we, Y/you, or any other use of silly caps. At best, women like that, r willing to play, or have commercial purposes. Which can be great for the right partners, but not for me.]

See u around ............. (name withheld)

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The military man:

Wait, "See u around ........... " sounds too final. Please don't cut it off so quickly (or maybe that was a bad choice of words). Look. I don't understand this lifestyle yet. I've never lived it and I'm just eager to find my place in it. You're giving me insights I hadn't even thought of on my own. I was VERY highly attracted to your profile and I want very much to get to understand you better, so please don't break off contact, which is what "See u around .........." sounds like you're doing. Tell me. How do I make you want me. I can't think of any other way to express it except to say, what do I have to do to make myself worthy of you. Please, just tell me. You were the first dominant woman I contact and there was a reason for that--I was HIGHLY impressed by your profile and got an intuitive feeling that you were probably the right woman to give myself to. If I'm doing dumb things that are turning you off then please guide me and teach me how I can make myself more appealing in your eyes.

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Me:
Seems to me that whatever i'm telling u about my way of living, is so far fetched for u, that u r not really grasping the essence of it. For instance, the idea that a slave could consider himself a gift, may be adorable in mainstream femdom, but in my world impossible to be taken seriously, as this idea is not only ridiculous, but also mega non-femdom.

I hate teaching, and never was interested to make people more appealing to me, or give them hints for becoming more 'worthy' (what a silly concept too).

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The military man:
I guess maybe I don't grasp the essence of your way of living, but if you think that teaching is a silly concept I never will be able to grasp it. I'm not a ready made slave and without things like training and conditioning I'm not going to understand what a woman expects or how to perform for her in the ways that will make me a valuable asset in her eyes. I was under the impression that, like basic training, a Femdom took a slave apart so that she could remold, reshape, and rebuild him in the form that suited her needs the most. You seem to be looking for someone who has already been through that process. So, thank you anyway, but it doesn't appear that I'm right for you. I wish I was, but I'm still just clay and not a finished statue.

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Me:
"..... a Femdom took a slave apart so that she could remold, reshape, and rebuild......" Indeed the common thought, already lingering for years in mainstream and trendy d/s circles, where 24/7/365 remains only a fantasy. This point of view is a typical '(male)wannabe slave' one too. However, it’s not the truly dominant woman who would want this. It’s the so called slaves who r hungering for this. They seem to have a need for, or getting a kick out of, activities like this. And many women r ready to serve them lol. Femdoms like me tho, r way too lazy to do all that work!

Btw, all the time i hear about training, educating, rebuilding etc etc of slaves, especially the still clay ones like u, and never about the training etc etc of clay femdoms. This really makes me wonder. Hmmmm….. not really, hahaha.

Understand this oh Man of Clay: Femdoms r born, never trained. The same counts for slaves! There is no other way for them. That’s why both r so powerful. Nothing will hold them back. Both r radiating their passion and fate. What they learn, they create themselves. They have no teachers. Both hate laws, rules, and protocols, as well as the silly rites in mainstream bdsm, like for instance, slave positions, safewords, and ways to approach each other. A slave is never submissive. A slave is proud, eager to challenge a femdom, goes boldly after his/her desires, tries to seduce his/her owner, and finds satisfaction in colliding and uniting with her during their sexual encounters. He/she never claims, to only exist for HER, to please HER, to pamper HER, to suffer for HER (caps caps caps….lmao). In fact, a slave is the mirror of a femdom, lol. Just as mean, cruel, driven, egoistic, sexy, seductive, hungry, elegant, stubborn, moody, beautiful, passionate, unfair, erratic, powerful, humorous, revengeful, poisonous, lovable, and always on the road to go beyond the next horizon. The difference is, they operate from a different dimension. In mathematical terms, they both r part of a hyperbola, divided and apart, yet still one Gestalt.

By Lilith, mainstream femdom is soooooooo booooooooooring.

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And then, he vanished, silently, without a trace. Vanilla slaves do that u know? Once they feel their desires r not answered instantly, once they realize the woman they approached is not willing to pamper their needs, or is not eager to guide them to the promised DommeLand, they disappear. Few depart in silence. Most go leaving behind a truckload of curses, threats, foul language, slander, and accusations, showing what great slave material they actually r :).

Footwear

Does it make any difference to u when comparing, let’s say, pulling on a pair of crotch high patent leather boots, zipping up a pair of high heeled kh’s, or letting an incredibly skyscraper heeled pump dangling from ur foot, to lacing up a pair of sneakers, walking around in flip flops, or trying out ur new office flats? What u say? U don’t own any footwear with 5 or 6 inches? U couldn’t care less for dancing in pain in the ass thigh highs? And rain boots u only wear in the rain? To keep ur feet dry? Really? Riding boots u never wear when visiting ur local mall, or driving to ur hair stylist? Come on, r u kidding me? Never? Then this blog is not for u. This blog is not for the sensible ones, not for those who r addicted to healthy toes and walking this planet only the agreed upon natural way (whatever that may be, sigh), ergo, not for the birkenstock & dr scholl’s aficionados, nor for the ones who r driven by functionality. It is for people like me. The shoe and boot freaks. The ones who know that wearing extreme heels, is not damaging to our feet/legs as long as we know how to handle them. And even if it was, we would never give in to sound advice. We would take the risk, no matter what. It’s the natural thing u know, doing the stupid thing, as long as it’s exciting, turning us on, and making other women green with envy.


With me it’s not just any boot, any pump, or any material. I’m very picky in general, but when it comes to footwear, it’s almost pathological. For instance, i can’t stand platforms of more than an inch thick, and i hate buckles and other decorations on boots. My boots should be simple, not too tight fitting, and never made of cheap latex. I can’t imagine myself walking around in pink boots either. My color is black. They can be gleamy, shiny, or not, but preferable blacker than the blackest of black. Of cors, i love red boots as well, especially the ones with cuban heels. White ones sometimes, when wearing a black velvet dress, or a black midi skirt combined with a white silk blouse. And i wouldn’t want to exclude dark blue boots from my collection. But pink ones? Don’t make me laugh. Yuck, bah, never!


There should be enough space for me to be able to put my finger between my leg and the top of my boot. Comes in handy too when wanting to stick my riding crop into the shaft. I make an exception for really crotch high boots, which should end snugly against my buttocks. I can get so horny eh, when moving around the house in those, the tops r touching the suburbs of my pussy, rubbing same in a most exciting cadence. Sometimes it really gets me. Then i’m going out, wearing nothing underneath, just for having that feeling of boot leather against the soft tissue of my pleasure zone.


Some say, wearing boots makes a person (feel) more powerful. Well, not in my case. It may be true that people who r not dominant, but rather weak or insecure, derive some extras from the boots they’re wearing, and also may give them more authority over others, but with me it’s the other way around. A boot gets something extra from me when encasing my leg and foot. When someone else is wearing the same boot, it looks completely different on her. Unless of cors her personality matches mine. I truly believe i’m transferring part of my drive to dominate and my energy to my footwear, making same unite with me, and becoming one with me. Exactly as what happens when i'm having a sexual encounter with my slaves. When that happens, there r no distinctive entities anymore. Just one Gestalt. Some may have difficulties to grasp the essence of this. So here’s a simple metaphor: Picture me from a distance, riding my favorite horse during the final stages of sunset, speeding along the beach. U know and understand rationally there must be two entities, i and my horse, but the two r so glued together, so united, that u only see one. Ergo, i and my footwear become one. Many women, and certainly men, r unable to share my experience. Which, among other things, explains why some women never look sexy in boots, and very often even look sloppy in them.


Riding boots r special to me. I mean the rubber ones. Of cors i own leather rb’s too, but i hardly wear them, as i found them either too stiff when new, or too wrinkled after having been broken in for a while. I hate wrinkles like that. In particular when dust accumulates in them. And the ones which have laces make me puke. But ah the rubber ones. They r so deliciously supple and fold marvelously around my ankle area when bending my feet into a more vertical position. For instance, when shoving the toe of my boot into the mouth of a slave, making him/her 'deep'throating' the thing. I love to combine rrb’s with a chic evening gown when visiting an opera house or so. The looks i get then? Hilarious! Formal riding gear is nothing for me. To me gear like that is laughable, belonging to people thriving on protocols, rites, and traditions. When riding a horse, i’m mostly in jeans, boots, a t-shirt or sweater. Never wearing a cap or helmet either. And when riding, all alone, high up in snowy mountains, i get a kick out of only wearing those boots with a long fur coat and my hair cascading to my waist.

I could go on and on telling u about my footwear. I could tell u how i love to inhale the sweaty air coming out from a rubber boot after having worn same around the clock, even days at a stretch. I could tell u, how i’m letting my slaves drink my piss out of my pumps. I could tell u about the way i enter a boot heel into the anus and/or vagina of a slave. I could tell u about my hour long walks with Lucinda and Anita through torrential rains, while wearing our macks and waders or (again) black rubber riding boots, making love to each other in the woods during those trips. I could………. Oh come on now, r u not turned on yet? No? Pathological!



From the avalanche of comments resulting from this entry when it was published the first time, i'll give u 3 to read here

Here’s what Stef, one of the sexiest women i've met online, had to say to all this:



Oh dear Ayesha....I couldn't agree more! I have always felt that way about my boots....no one ever understands my relationship with my shoes. I'm one of those that buys the shoes first..then finds the outfit to go with them. Always black for me though. I'm liking what you said about red or white though...I'll give it thought.
I could never opt for sensible shoes...I've worked jobs where I stand for 12 to 18 hours...in stilletto heels, platforms, thigh high boots, and never complained about pain. It's all in how you carry yourself.
Now the interesting part of it all is that I live in Naples, Florida...where there's never fall or winter seasons. The 110 degree heat index would kill most people in leather knee high boots. I don't care, I never feel the heat or humidity when wearing my boots.
I smiled when reading your blog. Knowing someone else out there feels the same way is lovely.
And I replied:Stef, for some time now, we both feel there is a special bond between the 2 of us. We tried to pinpoint same, and found a few wavelengths we both r on. As of today there's more clarity: We r united in BOOTS! We r sisters in deep dark black leather stiletto heeled boots, ankle high, calf high, knee high, thigh high, crotch high, whatever!
I live in the tropics, where it’s unusual to stroll the streets and avenues in boots and leather as well. Like u, i couldn’t care less, and do as i please. The good thing here? Air-conditioning is as common as central heating is in the cold regions of the planet. Besides, it’s easy for me to go to close by places, where temperatures r much lower, even freezing. As i’m writing this, Bogotá has 63 degrees, cooling off at night considerably, while Merida stands at 73. Higher up in its mountains it’s way lower. As u know, i’m traveling quite a bit sometimes, visiting places like NYC, London, Milano, SF etc. Plenty of opportunities for wearing my boots over there as well this time of the year without having to sop in them. Btw....uhm....Rome, Italy? 50 degrees this very moment, lol! Light rain too. Maybe we should meet there after all (smile).
Good to know u exist Stef.


And Fiona, a true boot bitch from Britain, wrote:
Finally someone who understands boots as much as I do, riding boots with a nice evening gown sounds so sexy and alluring, i'd gladly wear a pair and a gown alongside you
sometimes i love wearing thigh high boots with a leather skirt that finishes somewhere below the knee so they look for all the world just like knee highs..but only i know how far they truely go up
in saying that i don't like when people wear tall boots with jeans or other trousers over them, it defeats the point, also I don't like fabric boots, they look like glorified socks with a heel and sole stuck on em
I find shiney pvs boots, especially if they are thigh high..too trashy, i prefer the dullness of real leather
I myself own no other form of footwear..its 100% boots the lowest i have are a couple of mid calf ones the rest are knee high or over

Then came Katrina, my dear vanilla friend from the Big Apple:

"raises hand" I am always sexy in my boots.no sloppy girl here.Oh,and the image of you riding the horse n a snow covered mountain,in nothing but a fur coat,high black boots and lovely long hair whipping in the air turned me on more than anything else that you wrote about.:)
Me:
I’ll expect u to wear ur boots together with that black rubber bikini we spoke about! Well, once u found one eh? Come to think of it, would it turn u on as well if the 2 of us would go on horseback, then start speeding along a looooong white sandy seashore located in the southern Caribbean only dressed in unparalleled black rubber bikinis and equally black tall rubber riding boots, and after having enjoyed our daiquiri’s at some idyllic, romantic, hidden under waving palm trees, luxury cottage, would make intense love to each other, while never even have thought of taking our boots off?

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She never replied, lol, and kept silent instead. Vanilla people seldom loosen up u know. But i know she would have loved it, hehehe!

Da Rules & Da Dommes

One angle from which one can look at the vanilla world, is its obsession with rules, aka rituals, laws, etiquette, regulations, protocols, u name it. Wherever i went on this planet (and boi did i go places), there were rules. One could easily argue, rules r an addiction, a fetish. Why is that? I think it has something to do with fear of freedom, manifesting itself by avoiding responsibility and seeking ways to camouflage this. Fromm wrote an excellent book on the matter: "Escape from Freedom". Read it!

Now, of cors(!) i would be the last person, to deny the benefits of rules. They can be great tools, when it comes to traffic, water purification, food production, things like that. Rules should be there tho, to free us from restrictions, and not the other way around. More importantly, they should help, to make us more free to grow, free to create, free to develop, free to search, free to conserve, free to choose, and free to enjoy. Alas, this is still a dream. Most rules r restricting, instead of empowering us. Especially in my younger years, when i had to deal with my upcoming feelings of being attracted to female domination, i made that observation.

While living in a patriarchal world, i never had the desire to emancipate, like so many other women around me. What i wanted was to explore my inner powers, my female powers, and not to waste my energy to become equal to males, to evaluate their rules, or to fight for equal rights. And i hated the dress code of those so called liberated women too.

Till this very day i cannot comprehend why females let it happen to them, to be ruled by men, in virtual all aspects of their life, even r siding with them, and defending male rules and viewpoints, even when in contradiction with, and violating their femininity. Oh yes, i know practically all the political, sociological, historical, psychological, cultural, and religious explanations for this phenomenon, but those are mostly male explanations eh? Ergo, not to be considered of any significant value, when it comes to understand the bowel movements of the female soul.

So, i made a choice: No rules for me! I’m the only anchor when making decisions, demanding responsibility for my actions too, and accepting or fighting the consequences, no matter what. B4 any smartass starts roaring now, yep……… i hit the breaks when approaching a red traffic light. Well, most of the times.

To make a short story long, here’s something to memorize . So, keep on reading!

During my university years, i once entered a room full of hotshot scientists, wrestling with some problem they were trying to solve for weeks, however without any progress. I just sat there for a while, carefully listening to the masters. After a while i got bored, and suggested to consult a poet to bring light into the matter. I tell u, i would not be busy typing this blog, if looks could have killed. For them, i was dead meat. I was pure sin. A poet? Get lost Ayesha!! Don't u know, u evil one? We have rules u know! Scientific rules at that. They're superior to anything. Without them, there's no science, no solution, and bla bla bla bla. It's my bet, they never solved that problem.

Later, when a scientific hotshot myself, i spent some time with running a considerable amount of absolutely crazy brainstorm sessions, with a bunch of totally freaked out other scientific hotshots. No time limits, no coffee breaks, no food, no.......rules. It was great. I learned that even the most stupid remark, mega flaming, out of this world stupidity, and even physical violence, can trigger insights beyond belief. And what's even more important, intense communication, unparalleled emotions, feeling close to each other, and fearless risk taking. We were free. Maybe free bitches and assholes, but not polite diplomats in bondage! Freud's Es was on stage, trampling Ich and Ueberich into the mud.

So here we r, a world mainly organized by rules. Male rules as a matter of fact, supported by moron females. In short, the Vanilla World. But.....strangely enough, there’s a yearning among males, to be ruled by women. Or maybe not?

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

All this has changed now, as can easily be deducted from my other blogs.

So here i am, in my world now, without rules, surrounded by women and men, who have no need to cheat on their desires and feelings, who abhor role playing, who can’t imagine anything else, than being themselves, acknowledging at the same time, they only can be like that cos of me, also realizing, if i would want them to change, there’s no other way for them, then to comply.

All this sounds strange to u? Far fetched? Bunch of lies? Fantasy? Fabrication? To good to be true? Let me tell u what i find strange, far fetched, and......hard to accept. It’s hard for me to believe, there exist femdom determined by rules, rules cloned from the patriarch. I can’t believe there r women, claiming to be dominant, who restrict their dominance, by deliberately creating a set of rules, or by submitting to other people’s rules. I can’t imagine femdom, based on abstract morals and ethics. I can’t believe a dominant woman, would ever refer to her slaves as pets. And yet......that’s exactly the case. The 'scene' is infested with women like that. Even in the virtual world, so called Dommes r not only developing rules for their ‘slaves’, but also for themselves. Not true? Lets take a look around.

Just recently i learned that a real Domme (i hate that word), is always composed, never loses her cool, and if, Goddess forbid, she lets herself angered by someone, that someone is controlling her. She never yells, screams, or shouts. I imagine this kind of Domme, sitting in her ivory tower, somewhat bored, faultlessly dressed, affable looking down on the mob far below her, instructing her butler subbies to be quiet, to refrain from all noise, for her not getting a headache or something. I wonder how dames like that deliver a whipping. I mean, without sweating, looking agitated, using dirty language, hair messed up, well...... u know.

Here r a few lines of what one of the Sublime Ones considers a ‘Perfect Domme’. I quote: "The Perfect Domme is a Bright, Bi/Les Woman secure in Herself, in Her needs, in Her desires and in Her pleasures. She knows that it is Her right to be Served in each and every way She chooses. She is comfortable accepting Her role as a Superior being knowing that She gives Her slaves the greatest gift possible; permitting to who they really are (slaves) serving Her every wish." Juicy detail? This one saw the light. For years she was a severe and strict domina, someone i really thought to be a femdom. Then everything changed. Suddenly she discovered her true self, considering herself a true slave now, looking for her Domme. But still teaching, morals, rules, and protocols to Dommes, and lecturing them, when one dares to stray from this newborn slave’s rules, lol.

One more: "She adores all kinds of S/m training of slaves and derives stimulation and pleasure from Her ubiquitous use of them. She is imaginative and creative and becomes stimulated from the physical and mental humiliation of Her slaves."

Of cors i couldn’t skip: "She is, after all, a Goddess, worthy of total commitment from each of Her slaves."

Guess straight women should give up right away? They never could be perfect eh? I should reconsider my future path as well, as i abhor training, humiliation, and certainly don’t consider myself a superior being. Me a Goddess? Lmao!

Btw, noticed the inevitable caps? Major etiquette in DommeLand.

I love this one: "It is not responsible for any Domme to interfere with any subs work, in any way. Any Domme that does not understand that can not call herself a Domme and be taken seriously by anyone." There! I’m disqualified again.

How about this one: "She is responsible for the mental, physical, emotional and sexual welfare of her sub(s), at all times. This fact is set in stone." Hmmmm, sounds to me this Domme is slaving for her slaves. I’m out! Picture it: Slave Tommy wakes up during the night, with an erection. So what does he do? He calls me on my cell, reminding me of my duty, at all times eh, to give him a blowjob or so.

If we enter the realm of Pro-Dommes, it’s no picnic either. B4 anything, it’s a rule of thumb: No sex! Period! What were u thinking u pervert? Don’t u know? Pro-Domination is not prostitution!! Geeez! Furthermore, they tell u they’ll do anything, except ……….. a thousand things. Yep…….pure wild femdom, challenging all rules. No question about it. Rofl.

Then there r the ones who really rule without any limits. Kind of lucha libre in the bdsm bedroom, i’d say. They go all the way, these dedicated lifestylers. They r cruel, mean, and strictly strict. These r the Dommes who only dominate for themselves, who r strutting around in boots with 4" platforms, wearing fetish garb 24/7 only, punishing their slaves via ultra gymnastic boot jobs, while giving a rat’s ass about the desires, wishes, or rules of their subbie hubbies. "U will cum u bastard! Now get into the position pig!". Nevertheless abiding the mainstream bdsm rule of ssc, taught to them during their local club gatherings, munches (oh do i love those), lifestyle conferences, Elise Sutton & company, or Google.

No way i could forget to mention the onliners here. They dominate from afar, via phone, cam, email, keyboards, so on. They force males and females into submission, by giving them harsh tasks to fulfill, sometimes demanding proof by cam. These Dommes enjoy to humiliate their slave by forcing him into panties and heels, b4 he’s ordered to do the dishes in exactly the way he’s told. They stick out their feet, to be licked across the ocean. Don’t ever ridicule their actions, as u will receive a litany of mail, to straighten out ur blasphemy.

Money-Dommes r a special breed, not as complicated as their Free-Domme Sisters. They have only 3 rules. Rule # 1: "Only serious players need to apply". Rule # 2: "Empty ur wallet". Rule # 3: "Don’t waste my time".

The tour ends right here. It’s laughable, ridiculous, and stupid. Also very sad. It’s one thing when women choose to live under male rule, or allow topping from the bottom, but it’s a sad story, when the ones who claim to be femdoms, r cloning a male set of rules to govern the femdom environment. Femdom needs no rules. Femdom equals freedom. A femdom knows how to act and handle things herself, and doesn’t need a safety net, in case something eventually goes awry. She’s her own anchor, lawyer, prosecutor, and judge.

U know what ‘dom’ means in Dutch? It stands for stupid. A Domme would be: A Stupid One, lol!

Does all this matter much? Nah, not really. But u know? It’s one of my rules, to rule against rules occasionally. Besides, i love to sit here, typing a few words, forcing myself to deliver my next rant, and to create a matching collage. Very relaxing that. U should make it one of ur rules as well.

Enjoy the videos. They picture a woman, many Dommes will consider a bitch not to mingle with. Not surprisingly, i believe she’s way more on my wavelength, than the majority of my sisters in d/s. I love her.

HaMa'eiven Yavin

She laughed
As only she could laugh
With passion
So full of life

She was mine
As only she could be
And i was hers….
In a way

The shells came
No shelter
I tasted her blood
The different way

I held her
As only i can hold
And cried
As only she could cry

Not one eye i took
Nor one tooth
My raging grief
Took all there was to take

Their blood
Stained mine and hers
It tasted foul
And bitter

Standing at her grave
In the promised land
My soul went cold
Tears fell on her stone
And froze
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The one this poem is dedicated to, was a brave woman named Shirah , only in her early twenties when she died,. The afterlife as i see it, depends on how strong the bond with others was. Although there will hardly be anything left of her physically now, she’s very much alive in my mind. We r connected to this day. Our bond is as strong as it was, when we were making love to each other in the desert, danced in a Haifa disco, or relaxed together at the shores of Yam Ha-melah. I still can feel her touch, i still can hear her voice, and her laugh i will never forget. I expect to meet her more intensely, once i’m dead as well, when i will be less biased and occupied by life. Not in a physical, spiritual, or whatever common way people believe there is after life, but more like an encounter of memory traces, which like all energy, r immortal, and impossible to destroy. At that time i will unite with her once again. Only thing that’s left to find out, is how our lovemaking will manifest itself then.

When........

When a skilled domina is whipping a male or a female, it’s always an erotic sight, but when a male is whipping a woman, it’s always a poor sight, disgusting and objectionable.

When i see a skilled domina torturing a male or female, it always makes me hot and horny, but when i see a male torturing a female, it always makes me puke.

When a woman is telling me she’s a domina, i always have my doubts, but when a man is telling me he’s a dominant, i have no doubts at all, it’s a lie.

When a male tells me he’s a slave, i seldom believe him, but when i meet a male, i instantly know if he’s slave-material or not. Most r not!

When a woman tells me, she wants to be a slave to a male, i know she needs help.

When i see a woman in leather or rubber fetish wear, i’m always trying to assess, if she really has a passion for it or not, but when i see a men dressed up like that, i always have to laugh, refraining from doing any assessment at all. Unless of cors it’s a shemale, cos some of them r magnificent, and more feminine, sexy, and sensual, than many gg’s.

When i see a skilled domina whipping a male or a female, it awakens my lust and urge to participate, but when i see a male whipping a female, the only thing i want, is to kill him, or to hang him by his balls from the next lamppost.

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For u to download, here r two clips supporting my point of view. The first one shows the incredibly sensual Natsuki, who really knows how to handle her whip. The second one is a bit more sadistic, but still makes me want to join in.

http://depositfiles.com/files/0uex1tc04

http://depositfiles.com/files/c45im00ws

The Beholders

They’re everywhere. All around us. And we r part of them. I too am a beholder. In fact, we all r beholders. Now isn’t that great? Finally something we all belong to. While we were seeking that longed for unity, that inspiring connection, and the warmth and ecumenicity that comes with it, the darn thing was there already all the time, sitting there silently, right in front of our noses. Krishnamurti was right, when he told us: “To seek is to deny the truth that is right in front of you”.

But wait! We all r humans too no? I know, i know, some of u want to be pigs, worms, and dogs, and some of u really r, but only as human beasts eh? I think we have to agree tho: Humans r not united at all. Ecumenicity? Don’t make me laugh. What a joke. The same is true for us beholders. Alas, another dream shattered.

But wait again! There is some light at the horizon. Most of the beholders, r not creative, possess no originality, r non-productive carriers of their cultural heritage, and r decent, law abiding citizens, united and connected for sure by their stupidity. And don’t forget the eyes. The eyes of the beholders. Everything is in those. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Remember that one? There is no beauty whatsoever, without at least one eye of a beholder. And i tell u, there’s even poop in the eye of the beholder, blurring his/her vision, and smearing his/her view.

The time i was profiling my femdom, gradually contouring the feminine version of it, i met crowds of beholders, trying to let me act according to their wishes, wearing what they wanted me to wear, enslaving them congruent to their rites and protocols. If not? No femdom anymore. No domina at all. See? It didn’t matter if i had a view on the matter myself. It was all about the eyes of the subs, slaves, pigs, dogs, and worms. Their eyes dictated femdom, not mine. I dismissed them all, leaving them to what i call, vanilla dommes.

Some time ago, a friend asked her friends to define art. Thinking i was her friend too, i wrote:

“Art is not to define, to catch in some stupid sentence. It's ur struggle to free urself from culturally prescribed protocols, laws, rules, behavior, thinking, etc etc, which r holding u back from expressing what's living inside u, maybe even not fully known to u, driving u crazy, making u feel desperate, and powerless, but also driven, and feverish to deliver. And it will happen one day, like the child that cannot be stopped to leave its creator. But first my dear, u must get pregnant, and carry that piece of shit inside u.”

As a result one of her friends attacked me, trying to convince me that art was in the eye of the beholder, that no art could exist without being approved as such by the beholder. In short: No supportive beholder, no art. His enlightened monstrosity was commented by me as follows:

“Which reminds me of brave anti-semites like Wagner, Blake, Liszt and a few other great ones in the eyes of the beholders. Not to mention that fabulous Teutonic art with found grace in the eyes of millions of Nazism adoring beholders. Remember Mao? How about his beholder qualities? Great supporter of the arts, that one. Maybe i should add Pol Pot? Or the Conquistadores who destroyed great amounts of Maya, Inca, and Aztec art? All beholders no? The list is endless boys.

Ah yes, it's all in the eye of the beholder. Especially ugliness, hate, and the need to applaud those, whose work is echoing and mirroring the feelings of the beholder, but which the beholder would never dare to display him/herself without the support of other beholders.
Behold, let it be written in stone, and burnt on zillions of HD’s: Art is art when it has been approved by large groups of beholders.

Btw, who were those beholders, when Rembrandt painted his Nachtwacht? Poor fellow was laughed at. And what about Amadeus (psssst that was Mozart eh)? He perished in a cold room, lacking money for food and medicine. Apparently his music must have been of extremely poor quality, as the beholders said so.

Let’s have some democracy in art too eh? One ass, one vote.”

Then…… i was removed from her friends list, rofl.

Of cors I let her stay on mine, as i’m not inclined to measure her by one silly move. Hmmm, two actually, as she had done this b4. Anyway, i still believe that one day, she will conquer her fear to be discredited and abandoned by her beholders, stop siding with them, and do what she so desperately wants to do: Creating art her way, and cracking down on the beholder pandemic. But she’s not ready yet. R u?

Btw, do u know why there’s so much pulp & pseudo art? No? Here goes: Cos there r so many artists who r selling their soul to the beholders, and as such r destroying their art.
And yes, not only artists r scared to celebrate their unique potential, and to face bravely the destructive quest of the beholders. It’s one reason why so many choose to only display their sexual cravings anonymous in the virtual world, and rather live a life of sadness and deprivation, than to come forward and confront the beholders, make fun of them, and knock their righteous teeth out.

>>>>>>>>>Mi madre un día me dijo: "Si te haces soldado, serás General; si te haces monje, terminarás como el Papa." En cambio, me hice pintor y ahora soy Picasso. <<<<<<<<<

Looking back

The poem below i wrote in response to a blog entry on Carla’s site (long gone by now), regarding a witch’s soul, her temperament, and personality traits. This remarkable woman calls herself a sexy Christian warrior witch, which she certainly is, although i have my doubts about the warrior part in her self assessment. I’m sure she has no intention to fight in vanilla wars, and probably used the word in a more metaphorical way, emphasizing her readiness to fight for her beliefs, and to confront any obstacles that might come her way on the path she chose to travel. But she will try to do this in a gentle manner, respecting the beliefs of others, and recognizing their right to be different. I guess this is one of the reasons she decided back then to keep me on as a friend and an ally, as for sure i differ in many aspects from this peace and harmony loving lady. For instance, my tolerance is almost zero, when compared to hers, and i had no problems whatsoever to participate in dirty warfare during an earlier part of my life. This poem has to do with that episode. It’s partly metaphorical, and partly real. It’s also witnessing, that even under almost unbearable circumstances, human relations can flourish, and intense sexual encounters r possible and sought for. Looking back, i know i've changed, and still i am the same!

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B4 the battle of Gilboa
I met Zephaniah
And we made love
Like only witches can

She crushed an ancient king
Denying him her spell
He died

From Endor to Ein Dor
I met Sedecla
And we made love
Like only witches can

She resembled Kelêmath
The one i loved b4
In beauty and unrest

Ein Dor brought me Golan
A new grim battleground
Where i made love again
To men who i call men

They died a warlock’s death
And orphaned me