Wednesday, March 3, 2010

Power




Four days ago I stumbled over a Yahoo profile, created by a male calling himself Tab. He wrote:

“Reward power is reward based. Coercive Power is fear based. Legitimate Power is position based. Expert Power is knowledge based. Reverent Power………..”


Now, power has its charm of cors. But only in the vanilla world. In my world it’s more kind of a relic, saved out of curiosity, to be used when people employed by me, r procrastinating, r goofing off, have the nerve to harass me, ......well u know, that kind of thing.

Naturally i make use of it as well, and with sardonic pleasure i must say, when dealing with pseudo thrill seekers, the ones who believe submission is a gift, that recreational femdom is the real thing, and who r convinced i’m in this world to satisfy their repressed sexual drive during their leisure time. Occasionally, i let these poor wanderers feel what it truly means to be really humiliated, and forced into activities which r a long shot from what they had in mind, and then guide them out of the garden of their dreams, which turned out to be a nightmare, back to the safe comfort zone they came from. When in a good mood, i slip the cell number of an excellent pro-domme into their trembling macho hands b4 leaving, so they can get some illusionary relief after all.

Oh yes, and also when politicians behaving even worse than they normally do, or (sigh) when my garbage is not collected in time. But then we’re already in the suburbs of VanillaLand eh?




Above i inserted Tab’s profile picture, in a bit retouched form of cors (grin), and wrote on his page the following:

Ah yes power. So many kinds of it. So much talk about it. Who cares? Yes i know: A lot. But why? It's only a balance thingy. A relative thingy so to speak. Something a moron has more or less of, depending on the more or less of other morons. Now look at ur profile pic. It seems that girl lost all of her power. But did she really? I say: In that position she’s more powerful than ever b4. It’s meaningless tho. Power belongs to the vanilla world. Keep it there. Let it rot there, and ultimately decompose there. In the world of d/s it has no place. Look at ur girl again, stripped from all power, and yet so powerful. She is ur slave. R u her slave? Come on, do it now. Feel her, feel urself, unite with her, unite with urself, merge with her into one powerful Gestalt, lost in passion and lust. Who would care about power in moments like that, when all control is lost, and all control is manifesting itself in one powerful wave of greed and ecstasy, when the only thing left is an overwhelming desire to disappear together in an unfathomable abyss, never to return again, welded to each other by an unbreakable bond of flesh and spirit?

It took him some time but there it was: Tab’s reply (unedited):

@Ayesha:Thank you for your comments and yes your comments and view points were appreciated ..I think that you were the first to comment on the actual word I agree that power is irrelevant and only creates a sense to whoever gives or receives as long as both derive their own pleasure out of the deed! At the end of the day though it does not really matter how but what each person gained from the experience that counts and thanks again for your interest..hope to hear from you again.

Hmmmmm, i wasn't really charmed by his comment, and i think he missed the essence, and some of the fine nuances of my point, but hey, it was much better than the usual drivel i’m exposed to in Cyberspace. Reason why i honored his request to take a seat on my list over there. Sitting there for a while might make him aware of what the real consequences r when kicking the concept of power out of the d/s realm. And who knows, maybe one day, he’ll also find the power to look into himself, in his psyche, in his soul, and find what he was not looking for. Time will learn, if he belongs to those which i consider the right stuff.

And u know what i consider even more powerful? A relentless desire to look into the soul of ur soul slave (if u have one), and find the treasures she’s hiding. As for me? It turns me on the mega way, not only to look for them, but also to force them out of her, to give her no rest, till our souls collide and explode, creating one new supernova. How about that huh? Am I the lyrical one here or what? Yes people that’s what femdom is about. The rest is decoration. True, decoration is important as well, and can be very thrilling, exciting, and adding to the intensity and overall passion to unite. But like it is with the wrapping of a present, it’s just that, wrapping, which by itself is nothing.

Excuse me? Him? Oh him. But of cors. I’ll force his treasures out of him too. Alas, not so many males have the power, or the stomach for that. But the ones that have? Caramba, those r a real treat. I once had such a true male chained to a whipping pole, and...........




Saturday, February 20, 2010

A Flame no more




We made plans to meet in Jerusalem this year. It will never happen. Elizabeth is dead. She went to another world. A world i will travel to as well, some years from now.

She was like a flame: Bright, spirited, erratic, dancing through life, beautiful, soft, playful, biting, at times flickering tiny, a blazing inferno when harassed, but always warm and hot.

She left us in flames as well, leaving her ashes behind in the cool waters of the sea.

I could tell u now about her, about her dreams, about our shared passions, our love, and our anti-vanilla convictions. But i won't. Instead i'll let her speak for herself, by sharing with u three of her (unedited) writings to me.
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My Ayesha

again I can see our tastes on general life outlook and SM field (are they really two different things?)are very similar.Yes, as a sub, I m quite strong-willed and rebellious, and that have gained me in the past severe punishments from mistresses that didn't like this kind of attitude.On the other hand, my masochism is just a physical one: I don t feel at all the need to serve and be an unpaid waitress to an old hag that wants to save on her home budget by having a slavegirl at hand...I seek a splendid, intelligent and highly sensuous woman that has my same kinks and fetishistic preferences, who wants to enjoy part, or her entire life with a girl that loves leather, rubber and most of all...whips.You say you could be quite dangerous when your libido gets free, without reins...like in that wonderful painting, but that's exactly another of my favourite things: I m not afraid to discover the darker side of my lover's sexuality: knowing we have no finely established limits only adds to the already great thrill of being used like a pleasure animal by her...Just like Bram Stoker s Mina, I'd revel in seeing her unleash her deepest, natural hunger to hurt, to slash savagely just to reach her special, unique goal.I'd be in religious awe before this True Woman, this Sacred Priestess who is performing the rite of evolution of the ignorant girl, that needs Her Love to raise above the mediocrity of her ignorance. It doesn't matter if Her Love is a cruel one and does hurt, if her flesh will be striped to the blood; since it's beautiful and pure, a spiritual kind of sex.This regards, of course, those special moments...In everyday life, I love too having fun, going to locals, discotheques and feeling the particular atmosphere of sleazy places, just like you, just as I love going to concerts, movies and vernissages.Perhaps I'm a bit old-fashioned for a girl my age, but, frankly, I prefer it this way. I like the way I am.

Beth
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And in relation to a couple of pictures i uploaded to my Yahoo group AST, she wrote about the one above:


Funny as it may sound, it's just the "Getting There" drawing that I like the most and find it irresistibly erotic...I see it like a love scene: late in the night, the restless beautiful dominant needed to appease her kind of sexual desires, so she got down in the dungeon, where she kept her lover chained, and fully knowing that he wanted it at least as bad as she did, she lashed him freely, with abandon, without any silly limit, with the only goal of her own and his pleasure, a special kind that only few can understand, when the sexual satisfaction is so rarefied that it transforms itself in a thing of much higher value, raising from the 1st to the 6th Chakra. So, even if they do not touch physically each other, the only contact being that through her whip, in effect they perform a classical rite of love-making, of the most beautiful kind.
Beth

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You know, my Ayesha, I'm young, but I think I know something about psychology, and between your witty, lightly sarcastic lines I perceive a fear to be hurt (spiritually, I mean).Somebody sometime must have disillusioned you with false love offerings and you suffered for it and now, every time your heart is going to open up, you immediately take a step backward, afraid of the consequences, afraid of losing your power, afraid of pain.I may be wrong, of course. But it wouldn't change anything, anyway...I'm the sticking type: I'll always be at your side, your true friend.

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I will travel there. To that sea. I will swim in Mar Tirreno. When its waters caress my body, she will be there, caressing me as well. And we will weep bitterly and joyfully.


Farewell, my Elizabeth.



Im ein ani li, mi li? U'ch'she'ani l'atzmi mah ani? V'im lo achshav eimatai? (Pirkei Avos chapter one - mishna 14)







Sunday, January 31, 2010

Piano



Once my father yelled at me: : "Ayeshaaa, stop harassing that piano". I must have been 5 or 6 years old at that time, but i remember his anger and despair vividly. The poor man couldn't help himself, as he wasn't adjusted yet, to a daughter who clearly tried to find her own way in the rather rigid and dogmatic world of classical music. Same story in school, in church or the synagogue, during ballet lessons, well anyplace were people wanted me to comply with their rules and regulations. I hated all that, rebelled against it, and resisted it to exhaustion.

I love to play the piano and can spend hours caressing, fighting, and seducing a Steinway or Baldwin, to get out of them what i want. I manipulate, vary, reorganize, and violate the work of famous composers, taking possession of their souls, and bring them to life again. I'm still here, but via the piano, i communicate with them in the afterlife, taking their work to a higher level, into a different dimension, making it better. More or less what i occasionally do with Nanshakh's drawings, of which there's an example on top of this blog. His original was in black and white.

What i want, is to unite with the piano and the composer, in one orgiastic threesome. Same story when on horseback, having a sexual encounter, dressing up in leather, or having a meal. I want to unite, physically and mentally, with whoever or whatever i'm involved with. The degree to which this actually happens varies of cors, depending heavily on the mood i'm in. But my passion for it, is always there. U should see me eating a strawberry, lol.

In fact, i'm not playing the piano, i'm dominating the thing.

As the years passed, i became a mother myself. My daughter is a grown up now, living her own life, and is as crazy about the piano as i am. In contrast to my own youth, i kept piano teachers far from her. All i did was encouraging her to touch it, to enjoy the music she got out of it, and to enslave it. When she's visiting me, we test each other: Who's the best at the piano. It's almost a ritual. We dress for the occasion, as if it were a public recital. We love to wear contrasting colors. If i would be in black velvet, silver jewelry, and red heels, her choice could be, off white leather, black pearls, and matching boots. Add to this a room with only candlelight, et voilà, the perfect setting to collide. We compete vigorously, each time convinced that in the end, there only can be one. How wrong we r, cos in the end the 2 of us unite too, in one passionate 4-hand, communicating on a different level, and wiping away any distance between us, or whatever is left from our silly competition. It's very intense, and strengthening the bond between us over and over again. It's a very sweaty affair too, and we desperately need to shower when our musical hurricane came to a rest.

There must be positive chemistry between me and a composer. Like i have with Chopin. Otherwise i refuse to play his/her music. This not only depends on the music itself. For instance, there was a time i adored Franz Liszt, till i learned about his anti-semitism. I loved to play him, as most of his works were challenging to me, asking from me all that i got. It hurt to let him go. Very much so. For me there's no middle road tho. I'll never play him again, although his hate for the Jews was by far not as virulent as Wagner's, who on top of that hated women, or rather, was afraid of them, as is displayed in all his works, were women (mostly) die a fatal death. Same story when it comes to art, and especially poetry. Once i find out an artist's personality is contaminated with xenophobia, fascism, or related filth, it's over.

I selected 3 videos of women who i believe possess the passion i was talking about. Do not only listen to the music, but observe their body language as well.










Ohoh..........here's a fourth one.



Et une autre.........tralalalala.




Y mas

En verdomd astnie waar is....hier ister nog eentje, hehehe



Monday, January 11, 2010

Look at me slave



Look at me slave
When i spit into ur mouth
To trigger ur lust

Look at me slave
When the hood goes on
And the smell of rubber
Takes possession of ur ego

Look at me slave
When i’m uncoiling my whip
Anticipating ur blood

Look at me slave
When skyscraper heels
Approach ur aching body
To open ur flesh

Look at me slave
When my leather stained temple
Mutes ur voice

Look at me slave
When razor edged nails
Dig deep into the wounds
I inflicted upon u

Look at me slave
When the iron sinks in
Branding u with my name

Look at me slave
When i dance
In front of u
Touching myself

Look at me slave
When in ecstasy
U make love to my boots

Look at me slave
When ur manhood is forced
To rise and stand tall
Only to collapse in agony

Look at me slave
When i abandon u
To enslave a woman instead

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Yearn for me slave
When alone in ur cell
Bound in strict leather
Chained to the floor
Awaiting the hour
That never will come



Monday, January 4, 2010

I'm Medicine for..........


Above u find yet another picture from the masterful hand of Nanshakh. This time in its unedited form. Consider it a tribute to this giant among the giants. It was drawn by him a couple of years ago, and meant to grasp my physical appearance and personality. These days one can encounter this fabulous illustration on many sites around the Net, often stolen, but also decorating the site of a pro who caught his heart and to whom he is supposedly a slave now. Well, so to speak eh, cos i don't think he's participating in the flock of human dogs she's entertaining.


Ø men who believe they r masters
Ø women who eat too much
Ø people who r constantly telling others “I love you”
Ø jokers full of wit
Ø nazis in drag
Ø pimps who r beating their whores
Ø d/s aficionados lacking a d or a s
Ø housewives chatting in a gym
Ø smokers resisting lung cancer
Ø poets writing clichés
Ø slaves who behave like subs
Ø generals away from the frontlines
Ø women who want to emancipate
Ø CEO’s who think it’s them running the company
Ø mistresses with virtual slaves
Ø politicians cheating on honest agendas
Ø she-males who refuse to be sexy
Ø scumbags with no balls
Ø rubber lovers neglecting their rubber
Ø males claiming to be lesbian
Ø parents exploiting their children
Ø women who r bowing to men
Ø cowards trying to escape from the whip
Ø masters who believe they r men

Ø and………..
Ø the rest of the congregation still waiting in the waiting room

Told u………i’m a regular Florence Nightingale, the Lady with the Lamp, Ruthless Rubber Nurse, enhancing ur discomfort and pain.



Sunday, November 29, 2009

Top Ten Questions of Life

As u can see, again the drawing above is from Nanshakh. It represents his original, painted at the time we were in constant contact. Nowadays he's more occupied with a new flame, who seems to answer more to his fantasies and deep rooted desire to become an absolute nobody ruled by a woman driven by the idea of what mainstreamers call "female supremacy". A detail of it has a permanent place on the right side of my blog, as i consider this drawing one of his best. As i did with many of his illustrations, i tempered with the coloring to create a somewhat different atmosphere. In most cases he appreciated my interventions.



Q#00 Why do so many males want to be a slut?
Answer: That way they can safely degrade women even more.

Q#01 Why do male creatures adore silly bimbos and giggling sluts?
Answer: When around elegant women with an attitude, their ego and libido shrink.

Q#02 Why do mainstream femdoms want their subs to act like dogs?
Answer: They r incapable of enslaving humans and handling slaves.

Q#03 Why would u want to show ur cock in ur profile?
Answer: Watching the photo-shopped version of ur little man, makes it grow.

Q#04 Why is hypnotizing, or being hypnotized so wonderful?
Answer: It nullifies in both parties any awareness of being weak.

Q#05 Why r most people so quiet when visiting blogs and social networks?
Answer: They’re stuck with too many contradicting emotions, when on the same page with me.

Q#06 Why r there a zillion more males wanting to be a woman, than females wanting to be a man?
Answer: I can’t afford to reveal this, as all males would be in drag in no time.

Q#07 Why is there a disproportional amount of lesbians online?
Answer: It’s the only way extremely heterosexual machos dare to approach women.

Q#08 Why do so many males keep insisting they’re dominant?
Answer: They confuse messing the place up, with having power.

Q#09 Why do so many females constantly tell other females, they’re in love with them?
Answer: Cos they hate them.

Q#10 Why r most women potentially smarter than males, but actually more stupid?
Answer: They can make any male crawl and do their bidding, but choose to crawl themselves.

Any questions?



Saturday, November 21, 2009

Unrest



Too long i was at rest
Too long asleep
A restless sleep
A restless rest
A slumber lulled by
A fantasy of peace

There is no peace
But there is war
A war i was so eager to forget
A war at land
A war in the city
A war in the street

I hate this peace
That is not peace at all
A peace so rotten
A peace so soothing
A peace so foul
A peace so comforting

I want to kill once more
To destroy this peace
A conflict i desire
A gun in my hand
A warrior at me side
A coward slain

I hate this peace
This peace of indifference
A planet under siege
A man pimped out
A woman castrated
A child abandoned

I want to kill once more
To erase this peace
A graveyard i desire
A slaughterhouse i crave
A battlefield in blood
A culture collapsing

I hate this peace
This peace of compromise
A farce
A lie
A decomposing dove
A golden calf

I want to kill once more
To crush this peace
To face this torture
To take revenge
To eradicate my error and shame
To lessen my rage

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I walked in my garden last night
Heavy rain clouds were hunting a full moon
White clouds they were
Colliding with extreme force
Uniting without battle in harmony
Teaching me how to free my
unrest