A Different Kind Of Dominance

Body/Mind/Soul/Brain. Her form, the totality that is Her, operates on a plane that is far superior to the mere senses. A dark place because it is unknown, frightening. We fear extinction here. At the same time we possess our ultimate security, the absolute certainty that this is where we want to be…and where we belong. It is the pathway to our redemption. Here…In the Darkness…This is Enlightenment…This is Hell.

She takes us there. She is Power. She is Grace. She is Incomprehensible Entity. Her flesh is borne of divine spirit, Satan’s most glorious gift when aligned with the maleficence that comes with such incendiary intent. Extra-Dimensional; strange galaxies merge into new worlds here. It is poetry. Beautiful. Unfathomable. The paralyzing, subtle tremors of her plush, cream-color leg-flesh drive the kneeling subject into mourning for parcels of his existence now being cast upon the altar of sacrifice for the last time. A final renunciation of all that came before. The Grand Farewell to the past. She will accept nothing less. Commitment to her must always be uncompromising; unconditional.

Very often, the most powerful subjection a man is forced to endure is accomplished with complete passivity on her part. Of course, she must wield her will with unchecked aggression. But physically, she may often accomplish the most remarkable results without lifting a finger.

A Vignette.
Coette was, like, this Deadly Domme. Big, fat girl…really cute…really super-hot…like, sexy as Hell.
Killer Coette, they’d say…cuz she was , like, deadly. She made him do it. We were the ones saw it, cuz nobody else wanted to come that day.  She showed him her killer ass and she sorta shook it real hot-like so he saw it real good, and then…just real fast outta nowhere she said; “Smash your face off the edge of that table.”
And it was so weird…I mean, he didn’t even hesitate. He threw himself pretty hard. And when he did, she laughed…cuz his face caught that sharp corner…and man did he yell out…had to hurt like hell what he did…but she was by no means satisfied. So she showed him her fat, luscious thigh…y’know, real hot-like, and she was in these, like, super-hot super-high heels, which unnerved him…like, a lot, I think…and then she told him to go again…well, to DO IT again, I think, only harder. Then she said, “A LOT harder!”
He kept doing it because she kept laughing and laughing and making him keep doing it HARDER and the table edge was really hard and it had like a sharp corner there too and she thought it was super-funny that he was getting so bloody and screaming and…and…you could see…that…he…didn’t know what to do but had to keep going because she kept flashing her body at him…especially those monstrous legs…well and her big, super-hot ass too…real sexy and hot-like…oh yeah…AND her cleavage…oh, man…it would be, like, bouncing…oh god…which was GORGEOUS…and her tits were, like, huge and….and…edible, I thought for some reason.
“Again. Harder!”
And then, BAM! He’d crash his face into it again…I mean so hard. Then he’d yell out…and the blood…god…there’d be more blood…really bad…It would, like, fly all over…then she’d laugh…and laugh…and laugh some more.
“Again. Harder!”
Omigod…then…then it was worse cuz he obeyed her some more and did it again…really bloody…splattering all over…something awful…and his voice…that yelling…so much pain…
And more laughter…like so sinister…we were pretty scared then…
“Again.”
Well, she just kept on and on and she like never touched the fuckin’ dude, but…you know, just kept laughing and telling him to do it again…it was SO weird! Well…by now you know what happened. Well…MOST of ‘em know by now, I guess. He eventually bounced off the edge of that table again…REALLY hard that time…and Coette just looked down at him so serious like and she had…I mean…there was no feeling…in that look…none…at all…she was like this girl version of Michael Myers, ummmm…so anyway…he slammed down to the hard tile floor…again…and…he…he DIED. For real. All just doing what she said. She never touched him. Just like ordered him…to…like…kill himself…basically. It was really weird. But…we were afraid of her too…and, like, we never asked…any questions.

Images courtesy of Bootlovers.Com & Lethal Lexi.Com. Thanks, Girls!

Part VII Dehumanization: The Final Frontier

We have covered considerable ground in our basic sketch of a philosophy of Female Domination, beginning with the impulse itself from both the male and female point of view, and on through the emotional birth and development of Vixen from her earliest inclinations toward dominance to its fruition within her in her 20’s. We then outlined the basic development of the phases of Domination from initiation through the power Vixen exercises through the encounter, and on to the phase of abject humiliation, at which point her subject has become an utterly helpless shell of a man, resigned in fullness to his subjugation to Mistress’s will. It is here that we finally reach the zenith of Vixen’s agenda, that of Dehumanization.

In this final phase of dominance, all semblance of the man’s identity as a human being is vanquished, and he becomes as a utensil, or appliance, useful only insofar as he serves some menial purpose for Vixen. As we have noted in the preceding essays, this has been Vixen’s real purpose all along; the stripping away of the subject’s very identity-as-person. This phase of Vixen’s comprehensive dismantling of her subject is easily the most misunderstood aspect of Female Domination. To many casual observers who instinctively recoil from the idea of submission, there is still an element of connection that exists when considering the world of the dominatrix. What man doesn’t feel at least some sense of erotic awakening when confronted with the image of a beautiful woman bedecked in leather fetish lingerie with stiletto heels, brandishing a whip and insuring that a measure of discipline will be exacted upon her downtrodden subject? Typically such an individual interprets FemDom as simply ‘good clean fun,’ all tongue-in-cheek, and is prepared to ‘go along with the gag.’ Such uninitiated willingness to play along with the idea will invariably break down, however, when it comes to the severe physical punishment Vixen administers as her game escalates, as it also does in the face of humiliation. But at its pinnacle, dehumanization, all attempts at understanding Domination become utterly inconceivable in the face of such extreme compromise. Vixen’s ultimate triumph can only be understood by the true initiate, the seeker of truth, the mystic, the enlightened…The Obsessed. To him, the transformation to sub-human is the fulfillment of his spiritual destiny. All his life he has envied the inanimate things in Vixen’s world; the chair upon which she sits with her glorious ass and legs, the table which holds her drink, the ashtray which receives her cigarette butts, and the toilet into which her divine golden nectar and excreta are deposited; these are the things that arouse his jealousy, the things to which his longings aspire. For this reason, many serious dominatrices actually refer to the phase of dehumanization as ‘de-animation,’ or ‘objectification.’ The emphasis here is on the idea of the man’s function becoming that of the strictly inanimate, as opposed to, say, a dog, monkey, or servant. (All of which are less than human, but still animate.)

Dehumanization is not only the final phase of Vixen’s sublime act of mastery, it is also the phase of ultimate transcendence. In renouncing fully his humanity, the subject has entered a separate reality, the dimension of the wholly sacred. Consciousness for him has been transformed in such a way as to preclude everyday brain functions such as choice, reason, evaluation, rationalization, etc. His mind-state, if it may still be categorized as such, is now that of simple unmediated compliance. This state may be better understood as a mind-body separation in which body fulfills its physical role as toilet, spittoon, coffee table, or ashtray while the higher self, (mind, soul, spirit, etc.) discovers its own oneness with the absolute. Vixen herself experiences transcendence in her role as goddess, creator and transformer; all-powerful and able to execute her will unconditionally. This dual transcendence represents a mystical state far in advance of any reached through other forms of worship. A man, having been reduced to mere raw material, no more significant than wood, metal, concrete, or porcelain, has become one with the cosmos. His spirit soars free even as his eyes continue to behold his Mistress and his body continues to obey her with perfect devotion. It is the ultimate union of ethereal substances, human consciousness with eternal absolute consciousness.

For her part, Vixen also reaches untold spiritual heights through her mastery of Man. In the process of domination, she reaches closer to godhead with every new level of compromise accomplished by her subject. And while she takes diabolical delight in belittling, beating, and humiliating him, it is not until dehumanization that she reaches her own point of transcendence. At this point, she becomes so in awe of her own perfection and power that she experiences a shift in consciousness, a transformation at once highly-charged sexually, emotionally, and spiritually. She finds her entire mood flowing beautifully into a state of bliss. She no longer needs to be supreme bitch. She simply relaxes and makes her demands calmly. Her subject is quiet and perfectly accommodating. She often experiences intense orgasm at this point, and may well ride her subject’s face as her own personal sybian in order to get there. Often, though, she needs no physical stimulation at all. The experience of communion with the absolute and the vision of her subject’s ultimately compromised body and mind are enough.

Thus far, we have been discussing the transcendental nature of dehumanization. But what is the final dynamic in this most singular of transformations? How long and how fully will Vixen’s subject remain in this state of ultimate and total kenosis? For an indeterminate period of time now he has chewed and swallowed her shit, drank down her urine, served as receptacle for her cigarette ashes and butts, and functioned as an ottoman upon which she rests her feet as she enjoys her favorite television programs. Unable to prepare her meals as a result of his loss of reason, she has had another slave cook for her and her dehumanized subject has served as her table, from which she has eaten and drank. Remarkably, Vixen does not speak to him during this phase. After all, why would a lovely woman speak to her toilet? Or to her dining room table? Somehow, he manages to anticipate her needs through some marvelous act of instinct and actually does a far superior job of serving her in this capacity than he did earlier when his own unevolved and insipid human senses caused him to fail her repeatedly through faulty thought processes and inferior logic. How long does it go on? Quite simply, it goes on until Vixen tires of him and kicks him (often literally!) out of her space. What happens to him then is none of her concern. Often her subject will sit naked at her doorstep waiting for the eventual return of his normal mental processes, a period that varies widely from one individual to another. Depending on her mood and/or her level of generosity, Vixen may deem to throw his clothes out with him, allowing him to at least dress before wandering the streets in search of home.

And so the final phase of the most extraordinary and powerful erotic ritual comes to an end. Vixen has achieved her ultimate high, and her subject has been to places he will never be able to describe to anyone. It has indeed been a secret ceremony, a magnificent rite through which both Mistress and subject have known the truth of authentic human experience. Happily, Domination is an experience more men are beginning to discover as they realize their utter inferiority to Woman through various fortuitous twists of individual fate. Sadly, however, they still comprise the vast minority in a world teetering on the precipice of mass insanity as a result of patriarchal stupidity run amok.

In this series of essays I have presented a basic overview or outline of the phenomenon of the Dominant Female and the phases of her development in terms of her self-perception and some of the inherent meaning that is born out of that self-perception.  I have also touched upon the mind-set of Vixen’s subject, typically male, allowing us to establish at least a basic framework within which we may come to view the phenomenon as a unified whole.  In the next series, we will tunnel even deeper into this mystical realm of role-establishment with a mind-blowing  journey into the dark, esoteric world of Extreme Mortification.  You won’t want to miss it.

The New Birth

You tell yourself it’s nothing, nothing strange, at any rate. You remember bits and pieces, but you always wish you remembered more. There could have been a touch involved, but it isn’t necessarily so. Sometimes, you remember it coming as nothing more than a slight movement, almost imperceptible, but—and here is where your memory fails—the storm inside that followed was a giant, a cosmic cyclone of immense proportion, crushing everything in its path with an incomprehensible, implacable fury; a monster, a mad galaxy of psycho-kinetic terror with death at its center. Such a tempest works its destruction with raw physical power, but at the same time, it renders retreat or escape impossible due to its extraordinary, singular beauty, which defies logic or description; a beauty that causes paralysis. Only through experience is one capable of understanding this. Neither soul nor body has movement here. This unstoppable force has a name. It is called Madness. It is the end of life and the beginning of life. It is certainly death, but beyond the threshold it is infinite potentiality, infinite source, infinite bliss. It comes in one form, and one form only. It comes as Vixen.

If she has coaxed your touch, it is already too late. Your tears, your supplication, your worship and your pleading only amuse her. You are a joke to her, a plaything, if that. Vixen deals only in reality. The reality of your destruction, and the accomplishment of her will. That is her reality. But within this dark reality, her reality, lies the infinite mansion, the Paradise of the Absolute; a fantastic, unspeakable, idyllic world where, if you plunge deep enough, dreams and forgotten memories collide and ignite, the sparks and subsequent flames giving birth to living patterns of all that will ever be, and to all that could ever comprise the total . And this sublime space-of-mind, timeless, bathed in its eternal mystery and resistance to common apprehension, cannot remain pressed in dream-dimension beyond the moment of your arrival, and so must transcend its ethereal barrier and emerge whole into singularity, that kid’s corner of Being that opens into hidden planes of self, and merges there, now in the deepest regions, into rainbows of desire, regret, reconstruction, failure, pain, love, misconception, awakening, enlightenment, flesh, flower, music and rain…and all this spiked anew (at this point) with sharp, blazing refractions from the roaring monolith that is the body of Vixen; Portal to Ultimate Truth! Guardian of the Unconscious, Keeper of all men’s souls. This, this is Madness!! She has accomplished it! Her witch-crafted laughter rings through your soul and into the very Death that awaits you now. You worship her legs, her ass, her face, her Divine Being, and you know that this phase is finished.

Your prayer goes up, something to this effect: Divine Vixen, I beg thee, with utter respect and humility, to have mercy upon me. For I am unworthy, and incapable of the perfect obedience you demand and deserve. Have mercy, benevolent Goddess!

Vixen knows exactly what she wants. She plans to become as the Arc of the Covenant to your Philistine fingers. She is going to destroy you with one single touch. Such a display of power is unprecedented. But the end will not be swift. It is her intention to make you wait. It will seem like an eternity, an eternity of electrifying cruelty. She will watch you suffer unspeakably, tortured, tormented by cascading waves of desire, an avalanche of need inflamed by restriction, by her divine commands, by the slightest gesture of her head as it shakes: No.

You can still see the gentle quivers of her legs and ass as your free fall ends. And here, in the darkness that becomes infinite light, you become, for the first time, one with your own true essence. She knows instantly when you’ve arrived.

-Now, she says.

You place your hand softly on the splendid flesh along the back of her upper thigh. Vixen lets out the slightest whisper of deadly laughter. You hear something else; indescribable, like a spirit in flames. Experience breaks up into a quantum matrix of Vixen’s scents and shapes—blinding, particulate—and a primal firestorm is born, breathing the new universe into existence.

Warning!! I’m Baa-aack!!

Omigod, it’s hard to believe how long Girls In Control has been lying dormant. A Sleeping Dragon. A Genie in a Bottle. Well, I’m proud to say that I’m back, armed and ready to continue exploring the boundaries of the most intoxicating and psychologically fertile realm in all Erotica and Sexology, Female Domination. My hiatus was brought about by a great deal of other work, mostly in the arena of BBW, my other all-consuming love. I’ve built a successful Big Girl blog, and am working on another that will feature—for lack of a better phrase—mainstream BBW fiction. In addition to these, I have really been pushing the envelope with new FemDom fiction, some of it treading well beyond the boundaries of, shall we say, good taste. What can I say? Sometimes women can simply be THAT CRUEL!

The good news is that Girls In Control has continued to garner increasing readership, and I have been thrilled to discover how much interest exists out there for our sublime obsession, particularly in the intellectual realm. During these few months, GIC has gone to #1 on Google for FemDom Philosophy searches, and is Page 1 on Google for many other combinations of femdom search phrases. For this, I say “Thank You” to all you wonderful thrill-seekers out there who made it possible. But now, it’s time to move on with our explorations. So, allow me to present to you a wicked little piece called “The Unenlightened Man.” And be sure to let me know how I’m doing on my return to the scene. I always love to hear from you. J.T.

The Unenlightened Man

The threat, the anxiety, the fear, the desire. The feeling is like no other. Pure Bliss, Pure Conflict. She comes, always, brandishing her power like a broadsword. Her specific objective is always immaterial. It is the fact that she will have it, and will have it easily that commands our attention. Surely many will protest, arguing that her objective is indeed vitally important. After all, they will say, the difference between obtaining a set of car keys, or even a large sum of money is something entirely different from enforced cuckolding or being forced to follow her instructions in drinking a fatal dose of deadly poison. Rest assured that where the woman is concerned, the dynamic is undifferentiated. What DOES differ is the degree to which a man may or may not be evolved in the spiritual sense. For the man who seeks knowledge and wisdom, who has a taste for metaphysics and higher truth, for such a man, who has grasped the advent of the universe in the divine body of Vixen, there is neither concern nor thought as to degree. There is only unqualified obedience. Being enlightened, this man understands in his bones that his only true life comes in the form of her pronouncements and desires; of her voice, of her body. Alone, he is nothing. Only as the instrument of her will does he attain Salvation, fulfilling his metaphysical purpose as male life force on this planet.

The unenlightened man, however, faces grave difficulties. In the presence of Vixen, he is confused and uncertain. He has ideas about revolt and rebellion. He has delusions of superior strength and control. He has listened to others around him reinforce the pathetic lie that the man is the dominant one, that Male is the dominant gender. He has believed the ludicrous falsehoods about his role of leadership in mainstream society, and has arrived at the age of manhood unaware of his true role and of the metaphysical realities of the universe. Vixen exults in teaching such a man, such a pig, the laws of nature firsthand.

She will take immediate charge of him on all fronts, laying down the law verbally, and in no uncertain terms, and punishing him corporeally at each show of insubordination, no matter how slight. She will systematically dismantle him, stripping him of all pride, dignity, perceived strength, and most importantly, of every last vestige of power he imagined was actually his. His humiliation in Vixen’s hands will be extreme, made the more so because of the multitude of false beliefs with which he has been brainwashed for so long. It is one thing to discipline a man so thoroughly and harshly, but the deconstruction of his mind is the most painful thing of all. It is Vixen’s specialty.

No measures are considered too strong for this variety of heathen. She will demolish him with her gorgeous, powerful body. Her deadly thighs will crush his head until his skull cracks. Used in an incomprehensible body scissors, they will expel the breath from his heaving lungs and press his inner organs into mush. There will be no end to the punches, slaps, kicks, knees, battering him at will, beating him down into a useless pulp. The whole time, she has been reprogramming that pig’s brain of his with a new understanding; the understanding that he is less than nothing, and that, far more than just being boss, she is The Divine Vixen
-If you live through this day, she says, you will know your role forevermore.

If he lives. Sadly, many who come to her in this state of ignorance at this advanced age don’t make it. Their conversion is too much for them to grasp, and their resistance is often sufficiently strong that they have to be completely maimed, driven utterly mad, or worse. Many have ended paralyzed, their bodies useless, but their lips have continued to heap their infinite praises upon the goddess. Many others have lost their minds in one session with Vixen, being transformed into nothing more than puny little incoherent gargoyles, mumbling inconsequential nonsense for the rest of their worthless lives in some forgotten asylum. For the incorrigible ones, there is often no choice but to take things all the way. Better that they should be put out of their miseries than to live under their horrible delusions for one day longer. She has smothered many a one such as this beneath her big, beautiful ass, and crushed a good many more to death in the vice-like death grip of her sublime and shapely fat thighs. She takes exceptional pleasure in beating some into ultimate submission with her powerful fists, but whatever method she employs, she always executes her divine duty with the realization that the pig in question could have avoided such a fate by simply embracing the truth. That’s all she requires. But she will tolerate nothing less.