Category Archives: feminism

Feminist Facade


Feminist? Not me.

I don’t want equality.

I don’t want you to feel like you must fight me for a position of authority in our relationship.  That you must assert yourself in the face of my emotional whims.  I don’t want you to feel like we both have something to prove, and your assertion of such points must trump mine.  I desire not to corner you, belligerently belittling your spirit for my personal validation.  To feel power over a threat, merely a phantom.  To place you ahead does not render me last.

There are no wars for power here.

I view myself not as beneath you, but beside you. Albeit, preferring a view from slightly behind the curve of your muscular shoulder, the force of your strength leading me forward with each step.  You guide me.  You lead me.  I have no desire to be directly beside you.  I love you in the lead.  Forever keeping in step with you, with eyes alert to awaiting obstacles.  We will traverse them with relative ease made of a balance found between two uniquely different, naturally complementary, forces.

When I’m on my knees before you, I don’t feel devalued; rather, I feel elevated beyond the physical position of my body.  I feel larger than life and greater than the sum of my parts.  With the downward caress of your strong hand through my hair, I am elevated in my service to you.  Your eyes cast downward, connecting with mine, render me gracious for your presence.  Gracious for your presence that is not only physical, but emotional; not simply loving, but loyal to the conservancy of my being.  For your downcast gaze is hardly one of degradation, but admiration.

A very strong and capable woman, indeed.  But, I need not prove to you my independence by forgoing my desire to serve you well.  I need not persistently deny your request to provide aid, to sooth my upsets, or to supportively criticize, in order to reason with my facility.  My strength unveiled with my submission.  The fortitude necessary to forge the iron, strong enough to withstand a blow, however vulnerable to the fire.  You, my weakness.  You, my fire.  I burn in your presence. I melt for your power.

I need not do what you can do to feel equal.  I need not do it better.  I need only to provide to you the soul of a woman who has devoted her life to complementing you.  Where you are right, I will make up the left; whenever you grow far, I will pull you near.  If you shall find yourself sinking, I shall elevate you.  A dance of mutual attendance.  A dance of complementary forces, neither one in need of convincing the other of our position.  Neither one in need of demanding their value as greater.  No need to rehearse for the sake of a convincing performance.  Not a single toe stepped upon.  Complementary.

The fantasies that lurk behind the fortress you’ve built to preserve yourself from the fray, you offer them to me.  The darkest corners where monsters are rumored to thrive; I see beautiful beasts of burden, grown angry carrying the load of societal pressures.  I offer comfort, lure them from the recessed corners and hold them securely.  The beast is aggressive, but I feel no fear of harm.  The beast is physical, but I fear no attack. The beast is rough, but softens at my caress.  I feel the beast tremor as I caress over the scars that form trails along his hide.  I remove his burden.  The beast has no need to conceal any longer.  The beast is in no need of taming, nor training; in no need of demasculinization.

I envelop him in my feminine embrace.  Press upon his flesh the breasts of a woman for pleasure not purpose.  Caress with the touch of delicacy instead of efficiency.  A body with the curves composed of sensuality, not simply capability.  A beautiful cunt to converse the most intimate of conversations, not an agenda.  A woman.  His woman.  His needs are my needs, and my needs are his. In this, we are freed.


Seed and Swallow

swal·low1
ˈswälō
verb
 1.
  1. cause or allow (something, especially ejaculate) to pass down the throat.
    “she swallowed a mouthful slowly”
    noun
  1. 1.
    an act of swallowing something, especially ejaculate.
    “she downed his ejaculate in one swallow”

    ShowLove

    I took a long and lazy break away from writing that I am not proud of.  However, it is the nature of me to wax and wane on things that require my attention outside of my King.  A particular topic has ignited my passion to write this post, even though the clutches of laziness for writing had a grip on me with great strength.

    What topic could inspire me from such depths, you ask?

    The topic of SWALLOWING.

    I have recently come to a shocking social discovery amongst my peers.  Many of the females I know, either rather well or just by brief acquaintance, do not swallow their man’s cum.  But, this isn’t just a matter of not swallowing, no.  These women express that they don’t like his cum and find it “disgusting”. Now, this discovery bothers me on so many levels and I feel the need to address each one; not only because it does my psyche well to express things that frustrate me, but because maybe this will resonate with the very few people who will actually read this post.

    My King is a fantastic pussy eater.  He is passionate, aggressive, and will quite literally devour me.  He is very complementary of my taste, and hearing the rumblings of, “You taste so fucking good” escape his muffled (get it?) mouth generates a fire within me that ignites my femininity from the most dormant recesses of my body.  He never hesitates, never waits, and never progresses toward my pussy with caution.  I never go long without being exceptionally eaten.  My King insists upon making me cum, using his muscular strength to lock down my hips as they buck energetically in anticipation of my orgasm.  When I do cum, I flood.  He will proceed to press harder into my flesh, lapping more and more with each twitch of my body.  As his moans grow deeper, he usually thrusts a finger or two inside of me, only to lick them clean after pulling them from my body.  I feel like a goddess.  I feel beautiful, desired, owned, and utterly appreciated for being a woman.  His woman.

    I cannot imagine if, upon the first signs of my impending orgasm, my King pulled away from my pussy and proceeded to rub my clit to finish the deed.  I cannot fathom how I would feel if his mouth stayed on my cunt long enough to finish my orgasm, only to spit out whatever saliva he had in his mouth that still tasted of me.  I would be devastated if my husband asked that I cum on his chest, and after my orgasm, he took a towel and wiped me off him while making a face akin to a face one would make while wiping off a bird shit from their t-shirt.

    Yet, this appears to be commonplace behind closed doors.  I can’t understand, for the life of me, why a man would accept any of these behaviors from a woman, especially a woman you are committed to monogamously.  Why are men so tolerant of a woman viewing their seed in such a way, when a woman would never be as tolerant?  Is this another reflection of our cultures growing inequality and demasculinization of men in the name of “feminism”?  Are men starting to feel like that’s “just the way it is” and cum swallowing women are saved for viewing porn?  And what about in a marriage, where you have promised to spend the rest of your lives together in a monogamous relationship, and you have a lifetime of feeling the cold air hit your cock just prior to orgasm.  If your wife is reluctant, or downright refuses to swallow your cum, what other doors will be shut in the realm of your sexual experiences together?  How does this not frighten these men straight into the arms of a receptive woman?  Perhaps this is sometimes the reason for affairs, and if so, I don’t blame the men for wanting to put their cocks in a welcoming mouth.

    Yet, it would still be the man’s fault.  He would still be labeled a “dog” and scorned by the vast majority of those around him.  He would still go to sleep feeling the tinge of guilt on his conscious for acting on desires that went unmet…

    For wanting to be WANTED.

    I’m not saying a woman needs to love cum.  I’m not saying that she must get on her knees before her man, mouth agape, batting her eyelashes, parched and desperate for his cum.  I’m not saying a woman needs to scoop her man’s cum into her hands and devour it like a toddler does with a slice of birthday cake.  I am suggesting that a woman should swallow a man’s cum when he wants to leave his cock in her mouth to orgasm.  I am suggesting a woman should show appreciation for her man’s cum as if it’s her pleasure to please him.  I am suggesting that when sharing your bodies, there should be very few things you find distasteful about one another and cum should NOT be one of them.

    I would argue that the taste of orgasm should be seen as a reward.  Brining your loved one to orgasm should be something of an accomplishment to be cherished and valued.  Most common arguments from women for not swallowing cum can easily be resolved:  If you don’t particularly like the taste of his cum, use flavored organic lube.  If you don’t like the feeling of his cum hitting you in the back of the throat, deep throat him.  If you can’t deep throat because it makes you gag, use a product that numbs the back of your throat temporarily.  Or better yet, practice deep throating.  You can significantly improve your gag reflux by practicing, and I’m fairly confident your man would be a willing participant as you practice.  Bottom line, there is no excuse for not swallowing.  It is inexcusable to treat the product of your man’s orgasm as intolerable.  Step outside of yourself and imagine how that rejection would feel.

    And if, as a man, you feel guilty when holding the opinion that a woman should swallow…Don’t.  Women don’t struggle gulping down ridiculous drinks to lose 10 lbs; swallow smelly, bad tasting herbs to improve their hair and skin.  Women will eat certain foods that are disgusting to improve their beauty and health without hesitation.  If she’s unwilling to swallow your cum, you should find it insulting.  She is basically saying that your pleasure isn’t worth her discomfort, and by accepting that, you are saying that her opinion is okay.  You are rewarding her pettiness, and that is unacceptable.

    I find it tragic that so many women will treat their men in a way that would make them feel rejected.  A man who tolerates this behavior perpetuates this double standard.  Just because we have been cultured to feel that a man’s emotions and need to feel appreciated is an afterthought doesn’t make it true.  Just because we often place men into roles with a purpose meanwhile quickly dismissing their need to feel like a man, doesn’t mean they aren’t longing to feel like a man.  Just because you may not WANT to doesn’t ultimately make it unnecessary.

    If it’s true that actions speak louder than words…

    SWALLOW.


We Shall See…

Another casual, light-hearted update for all you lovelies…

On top of an exceedingly demanding professional life, I am working on a significantly long paper  for a class.  I was *cough, cough* “fortunate” to have an uber-feminist professor in this class, which has resulted in some interesting debates between she and I, as well as some of my other classmates.  I am not anti-feminist, per se, in the sense that I believe equal treatment for equal work.  However, I do believe that men are significantly misrepresented within our present society by a virtual pendulum swing toward feminism in the name of emasculating men.  Ultimately, I believe heavily in evolutionary psychology and cognitive development as it applies to biology.  I believe men are men and women are women for reasons primarily dictated by biology; I believe hormones, physiology, and thus, brain development coincide with our responses toward the environment.  I do believe culture plays a heavy influence as well, akin to adding standards of performance to a basic blank slate:  As if taking a large boulder and carving it into a beautiful sculpture; the beautiful sculpture may represent something upon it’s surface, but at it’s core the subject is simply rock.  Culture carves.

Anyway, my professor has assigned readings for this particular class that I find are bias against men.  If I were a man in this class, I would feel as though I was a pig on a spit, rotating and roasting before a crowd of chanting, spear wielding women.  They would extend their fists vehemently into the air, exposing the hairy pits of rebellion.  They would dance around the rotisserie man with dangling breasts of stretched tissue and “beaver bump” one another in the name of “fem-araderie”.  Roast that man for all his oppression – Men and their penises are to blame for all our problems in the world….

I cannot stand this course.  Such potential in the material to be squandered away by personal bias.  Anyway, I digress…

After numerous debates, I have decided to compose my final paper on cultural dynamics as it effects aspects of BDSM culture and alternative relationships.  Ah, yes.  Imagine the joy I will have once I receive a poor grade in this course due to the fact that I will discuss being a female sub to my male Dominant.  My professor is notorious for grading according to personal opinion and perspective.  Undoubtedly, my close-minded professor will know little about the lifestyle, as she will see it as another way culture oppresses women.  To expose that fallacy, I plan to discuss the role of dominance and submission, as it pertains to the individual and not the gender of the person.  Ultimately, I plan to show the BDSM culture as a place where gender is an illusion; a place where a person is accepted as an “individual” and not as culture would define him/her or his/her chromosomal make-up.  She likely has read Fifty Shades of Grey and was repulsed by that pathetic depiction of the community – even though she likely masturbated to images of being dominated by a man.  Typical.  I’m going to blow the top off of this bitch, and I am looking forward to it.

Again, I can’t wait to write a substantial piece for pleasure, for a change.  Presently, my language has been reduced to legalities and formalities, and I am feeling creatively handicapped.

I also was nominated for the “Bad Girl Blogger Award” from the lovely Whispering Girl, which has brought me great joy!  I am incredibly flattered.  Thank you for such lovely words of recognition.  I am chomping at the bit to assume my more creative pursuits, I just have to get through the next week or two.