Category Archives: life

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.


Elemental

Mistress M 158 (2)

We Rest.  Our love, strewn about the bed as a decadent mess.  Legs, arms and panting bodies lie deliriously twisted among fabric rubble.  Life altering madness.  Rounded muscles and crystal blue eyes. Your beauty erases hurt and makes laughter of sighs. You are my heart’s demise. Your five o’clock shadow pressed to my supple breast.  Hands trail, fall and rise, until they tangle in tendrils spread like tentacles atop a sea of bamboo sheets.  High on emotion, my body reels.  The dew upon our bodies glisten in the faint moon light permeating the window. A liquid bead upon breast, a bead upon thigh.  Your nature runs from within me, between my folds, making small hurdles of taught skin below.  A tiny pool forms beneath the crevasse of my ass.  You and I, as much here as anywhere.  Euphoria rises from our bodies, twists and turns high above our post orgasmic coma.  Like smoke and air, we entangle, we drift into a weightless bliss.  Our smell, small particles waltzing partnered in the air.  The sweet aroma of You and me, dispersed into the room as pollen from the bloom.   In this moment You and I are three physical states of matter; we are solid, we are liquid, we are air.


On Assignment:

I have been absent for far too long.  In the meantime, life has been quite good to me.  My King and I are very active in the lifestyle, and He has required I begin some writing assignments. I have thoroughly missed writing and have been put to the task by My King to get back into the swing of putting thoughts to words.  Words are so very close to my heart. The vast majority of my posts, as usual, will center around our lifestyle.

Wishing positive energy to you all that may still be reading (or occasionally visiting) this blog.


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.