Musings on shifting from God to Goddess to Feminine Divine

A multi-part exploration of my path from my Christian, male image of God to the Feminine Divine.

In the beginning…

Imagine you’re an almighty being, Uhmmmm… God for instance, and you decide to create heaven and earth and all things therein.

To do so, you’d need to be a pretty smart cookie. Have a slightly better than PhD understanding of physics, quantum physics, biology, animal husbandry, fluid dynamics, celestial mechanics, molecular chemistry and well, just a plethora of other disciplines. The kind of smartness that leads your followers to say stuff like, “He works in mysterious ways”, which drives the non-followers nuts. But come on. Can you honestly explain without Googling it, spooky motion at a distance? (yes, it’s a thing) Soooo… you really think you can grasp the need for bad things happening to good people in an entire universe of inter-activity? Ever heard of the butterfly effect? Yeah. Pit your mind against Gods. That’ll be fun.

So anyway back to my hypothetical. You spent the better part of a week whipping up a universe, made heaven AND earth, populated it with all manner of critters, and finally came to your crowning achievement – humans.

Being the logical being your are (look at all this and tell me God isn’t logical. Even chaos has logic, which seems illogical, but God’s probably an amateur comedian on his off hours) do you;

A.) Create a male in your image and then give him a weaker being to support him? A being not as useful in hunting and dragging stuff back to the cave, fighting, lifting and building, who is a burden on his resources and in need of his physical strength and efforts to protect it?

OR;

B.) Create female in your image and give her a stronger servant – one that she can easily seduce and manipulate – in order to protect your most valuable, perfect incarnation of yourself?

Oh, I hear you already! But Brett, some women are stronger than men and, and, and… Yeah. That’s called deflection. It’s the tool unintelligent people use to avoid discussing things in the vein the presenter intended, but okay. Your playing a video game and one very pissed off Lionziod jumps out of the tree in front of you armed with a battle axe! Quick!! Pick your defender!!! The larger, heavier, more muscled male dressed in full body armor or the smaller, lighter, less muscled female scantily dressed in next to nothing? (It’s a video game after all) Seriously, you know what I meant when I said “stronger”.

If you still balk at believing female is God’s true image on earth, let’s look at some of the qualities of the feminine;

Intuitive.
Heart-centered.
Compassionate.
Wise.
Accepting.
Forgiving.
Collaborative. (more on this one later)
Reflective.

Sounds sort of like you’re describing a loving God, huh? So, if in fact woman is made in God’s image and man was her ‘suitable partner’, then Godd-ess is a far more apropos title don’t you think?

Mrs. Claus 2021

Leather spiked, locking cock bag, ball gag for under my hood, remote controlled anal plug

Thank you Mrs. Claus for being so thoughtful to me this year! Apparently I have been a naughty boy. A very naughty boy!

Tagged

Men should be tagged… like cattle.

Sex and intimacy

While I am a strong proponent of the idea that words are what separates us most and that definitions are tentative things at best, but they are still all we as human beings have to try and express ourselves to one another.

That being said, I wanted to share my thoughts on sex and intimacy. (My thoughts, your mileage may vary, objects in the mirror may be closer than they appear.)

Sex is about power. I don’t just mean as in there is a generally fuck-er and a fuck-ee but yes, (…Yes, yes!, yes!!!) that, but what I mean is everything about it revolves around power. Who controls access to it, who determines when, where, and how long it will last, and how it will be done.

As a horny adolescent wanting for all the world just to get to second base, it was obvious to me who had the power. I was never going to feel a breast without a girl’s permission. She had all the power.

I’m not saying sex can’t be intimate, but if you think of sex as the ultimate form of intimacy, then once a person becomes ‘of a certain age’ and sex is no longer on the table, does intimacy die?

Intimacy for me is found in service. Can you be more intimate with someone than washing their underwear? Cleaning their toilet? Uh, not much! Intimacy is borne from knowing how she likes her tea. What her favorite restaurant is and which diet your cooking needs to adhere to. (this week. LoL!) Intimacy is all about knowing all the little details about one another and caring and catering to them.

Back at the turn of the last century, butler’s and lady’s maids were at least as intimate with the people they served as were their spouses in my opinion. In some cases, maybe even more.

[TO BE CONTINUED…]

The Kiss

Note: This fantasy came to me as a result of a real life event. Upon our first meeting, I forgot my vows in front of Goddess Viola Voltairine and she did actually allow me to kiss her boot anyway. The following day I came down with an awful head and chest cold…

As she waited for her latest acolyte’s arrival, she casually picked up another of the purplish-blue berries, held it up before her eyes and pondered it before she dropped it on the floor with an air of casual disregard, and crushed it under her left boot.

Her private maid, standing at attention in the corner squirmed inwardly as she watched her in the peripheral vision of her down turned eyes.

“Something troubles you robbi?”

“Of course not Mistress.” she replied. The stress in her voice making it very clear she wanted to be believed.

The doorbell rang and robbi, glancing over to be sure she was dismissed to answer it, scurried off. She soon returned with a naked boy in tow.

Hands behind his back, head bowed and eyes fixed on the floor, he waited until she spoke to him. “You have been through my lessons and have done well. You know why you are here?”

“Yes Goddess. To be considered for a position as a house slave for you. Please, with open eyes and open heart, I want to serve you forever Goddess…”

She eyed him coolly. “Then on your knees before me. Let me hear your vows.”

He dropped to his hands and knees and crawled to her. Once his lips where inches from her boots, he began his vows. “I accept the natural authority of women, I submit to the authority of my teacher…” Looking down at him, she listened dispassionately.

Then his words stumbled. He started the sentence again, “My role is to support… ah, My role…”

“Start again!” she growled at him.

“I accept the natural authority of women. I submit to the authority of my teacher…”, he was blushing now. Flustered by his own failure, he admitted he could not remember the remaining line of his pledge to her. Defeated, he hung his head in utter shame.

She slid her left boot forward. “You may kiss it.” He threw himself forward and eagerly pressed his lips to the smooth, cool black leather, kissing it passionately.

She looked down on him as she lifted it.

“Now the sole. Lick. Gooood boooyyyy…” she watched in fascination as the belladonna she had crushed beneath it took effect.

Had he obeyed her rule, learned his vows to perfection and been a good slave, he would have been offered her right boot…

She leaned forward and cradled his chin is her palm, lifting his eyes to hers. “Awwww. Now you will have plenty of time to learn your vows”, watching as the light faded from behind his eyes. “As you serve the Temple of The Dark Goddess. Forever.”

Nine Needles Punishment

Goddess Voltairine bade me to kneel before her at the Domcon play party on Sunday evening. The sounds of other slaves being whipped and erotically teased & tormented echoed in the dark room around us. Robbi knelt at her side.

As she gazed down at me and commanded me to recite my vows to her, she touched me so profoundly that my mind went blank. I knelt before a living Goddess… and I forgot my vows.

Additionally, she informed me I failed to keep her vendor’s booth neat and organized, a reflection upon her. She was not pleased with my service and I had earned a very well deserved punishment. She wrote later;

“As for your punishment…. It must involve both pain and sacrifice. It must thrill my sadistic side. It must be difficult. Om the other hand it must also be useful toward my goals as well...

… I am fond of needles. I want to see 9 play piercings on your body, with 20 gauge or larger needles (it will turn me on if I get to see blood trickling). From those you will attach lovely graceful delicate silver chains and from those you will attach and hang my book. Make it artful. Delight me. Take some lovely photos of this with the five words as the caption.“

Surrender, submit, sacrifice, serve, survive.

Nine 20 gauge needles Goddess. The V upon my chest for Voltairine.

The line beneath the V represents myself. I am just a pedestal for you to stand upon while you reach for the stars. I hope I have pleased.

Do I disgust you?

If the picture above offends, upsets, or grosses you out please do not continue to read further. This means you Jamie!

I have written extensively about all the nice parts of devoted male service, female led relationships and about the need for a world Gynarchy and such.

This isn’t that.

This post is all about my dark side. My strong sado-masochistic desires. It turns out that all girls aren’t made of sugar and spice and everything nice. And some boys like me cherish the ones with far darker wet dreams…

Almost two decades ago, I found one of my heroines in Faye Kane and her writing THINGS MY FUTURE HUSBAND WILL DO IF HE REALLY LOVES ME. She admitted to masturbating to the most inhumane, sadistic treatments of herself, inviting degradation, pain, and even death at the hands of someone who would really, really get off on it. Living a pointless existence except for the arousal her suffering could give another. And there where others… JustaGimp, “There is no return to a normal life for it. It no longer can be human. It is now less…. a worth less fuck thing… Less then even a sub creature. Fuckmeat, fuck puppet, fuck object… Just holes in a latex suit. And for it, this is the a joyful life one it was born for.” and Miss Irene Clearmont‘s tales of blackmail and permanent slavery… Oh my!

What follows is not a fantasy wish list, it is inspiration for the right woman. The woman who cums from forcing a man through his ‘no, not’ list one-by-one, gleefully ignoring each of his “please no!”s. This is to make her nipples harden, her labia swell… her breath become shallow and her heartbeat quicken. This is being her muse and offering her myself as a blank tapestry for her own wickedness and cruelty. This is for the woman who reads this list and says “and…“! For without her wicked desire, it is all pointless. I am pointless.

“Your cock is no longer for any type of pleasure. It will be used BY ME to frustrate you & inflict pain on you. This will help train & control you and it is in your best interest. Any pleasure you get from now on will be from serving ME & helping ME have fantastic orgasms whenever I want them. No negotiation, no going back, no mercy. Once clicked, the ratchet never backs off. Ever. I may permit you a ruined orgasm from time to time if you go one day without food or 12 hours without water or 30 seconds without air. After you’ve cum we’ll permanently extend the requirement to the original amount + the current amount. 30 seconds becomes 60, becomes 90… I think it will be super hot to watch you slowly starve and suffocate yourself in frustration!”

It no longer matters how close you get or many times I make you edge, your response will always and forever be, “Please don’t let me cum Goddess!”

At my whim, you are going to build me a video library of your ever increasing humiliations and tortures;

You peeing into my panties then stuffing them into your wide open mouth and taping your mouth shut over them… just to remind you your silence, as well as piss, is golden.
Next you’ll pee into a glass and pour it over your head for me.
We’ll use your wife’s fucking machine to ass fuck yourself while I watch via Zoom and laugh and yell out commands. “Faster! Slower! Deeper!! HARDER!”
And I would be remiss if I didn’t watch you do a little ass to mouth practice – take out the butt plug I had you shove up your ass last night out and lick and suck it clean for me. Make love to it! Show me what a passionate shit eater you would be for me!
Oh, we’re not done there… now shit on a plate and kiss it and lick it like candy. Some day you might be lucky enough to have the honor of mine to enjoy!
Text me every 30 minutes on the dot for 24 hours. Awwww, I bet you’ll be soooo tired when I tell you, “Again.”
Cut my initials into your chest and thighs and wash yourself in your blood. MY blood.
Next I think I will starve you. No food until given permission. Then I might allow you to feed yourself a can of cat food. In fact if your weight ever goes above 200lbs, I will have you drive needles into your cock and balls. Maybe nails. And next month I might make it 195lbs… then 190… then… the point is I’ll keep finding reasons to pierce, scar and mutilate your cock until no one would ever want to see it, let alone touch it, ever again!
Up on the gynecological exam table like a good little girl, feet in the stirrups, and give yourself a guiche piercing. Then padlock your PA to it and mail me the key. I will get great enjoyment for letting you watch me hammer it into a useless lump of metal.

Once we’ve finished with all those games, we can start your weekly confessionals where you’ll confess your short comings and be required to make suggestions for even more punishments and your deserved penance for the week. Remember, even if you were perfect all week, you where born male and deserve punishment for that fact alone.

Every two weeks you’ll call me on Zoom and beg me for two more weeks of denial while you edge for me. Be entertaining enough and I may invite my girlfriends to watch!
I will call for snap Zoom inspections to see you are cleaning properly. Sooner rather than later you’ll realize I will always find something wrong, I’m just using it as an excuse to watch you beat the shit out of yourself with your studded belt across your thighs! But Goddess help you if I think you are not trying your hardest to please me!
We’ll do plenty of one-way, recorded Zoom calls of you performing humiliating games for me and my girlfriends. Maybe even other prospective slaves so they can witness what they’re getting into. We’ll might have you write on yourself with permanent marker, watch you crawl and lick your wife’s boot soles clean, chain your cock piercing to your tongue and recite poetry for us. Put you in women’s panties and watch as you pour itching powder into them, then handcuff your hands behind you… maybe after taking a nice big enema of your own piss as well. Leave the camera on so we can check on you from time to time and listen to your sobbing and pleading.

Maybe I’ll feel like you need some corner time chained to the wall. Hours and hours of it. We came include your noise cancelling headphones looping my hypnosis tapes over and over. Even better, chained outdoors in the cold until watching you shiver gets boring and I release you.

Can a person waterboard themselves? I game to find out! Even if it takes you all afternoon to perfect it!

When we hold our women’s meetings we’ll play a variation of a drinking game. We put you in a rubber gas mask and have you cover the opening until you hear the word “slave”. It will all help reinforce the fact that men should remain silent when women are speaking!

For some silliness I’ll have you record yourself writing “I am a stupid male.” 500 times with no breaks. Then you can mail it to me and I’ll let you watch as I drop it in the trash, unopened.

Holidays will be extra special fun for me and you from now on too! Starting on the 4th of July we can celebrate the removal of freedoms month!

You’ll turn over web access to your security camera. You’ll never know who I share it with.
I’ll remove your sight by having you put in your blackout contacts for a day.
You’ll spend a day gagged.
No more naked female bodies for you ever. For your edging pleasure you can have CFNM porn only, liberally interspersed with images of ME.
Money and speech are power, so let’s have you surrender all your passwords, credit cards numbers, and investment accounts information. You can ask my permission to use them going forward…

So there it is. Just a glimpse into my darkness. By far, it is not a comprehensive list. Did I even mention what you can do with a wire coat hanger and a kitchen brulee torch? Ben Gay? Shock collars? No. Of course not. As I said, it isn’t intended to be a wish list, it’s meant to inspire the right woman’s own imagination!

It is meant to speak to women who may have a small place hidden away inside them that resents, fears, and is angry with men in general but which they never speak out loud. It is an invitation to a safe place where you are invited to be your full self, all that is beautiful and divine about your woman-ness and all that lusts for retribution and complete power.

How dark are you Ma’am? What would you love to paint upon the canvas of me?

Obedient Love – Lesson 9

Lesson nine details the level of domestic service a good male servant should aspire to. Having run an eco-friendly professional cleaning service, Goddess Voltairine literally qualifies as an expert. She knows of what she speaks.

Below is my ‘final exam’ for the lesson – to apply her cleaning methods to a room and post the finished result. I spent two and a half days cleaning one room. Every knick-knack was cleared off the shelves, the shelves cleaned and the knick-knacks washed. The large drawers were organized into ‘first aid’ stuff… cold medicines, band-aids and the like, and one for beauty supplies, soaps, and things. The light fixtures and ceiling fan were taken down dusted and washed. The floor and molding all steam cleaned. The jets on the jacuzzi tub were cleaned with Q-tips. I admit this level of cleaning is even a bit higher than what I would normally do as ‘spring cleaning’ or ‘seasonal cleaning’. I enjoyed the task very much. That said, I would be terrified to hear Goddess Voltairine was ever coming for a visit! I would surely have to work myself to death.

It is hard to see clean in a picture. For instance, I used my new steam cleaner on the floor, baseboards and most every other surface. You really can’t see that in a picture. So I will resort to the white ‘glove’ test to demonstrate the level of attention to detail I employed. It is the same cotton ball throughout.

As final proof, I trust my cleaning enough to lick the toilet and floor. Aw, who am I kidding? I’d do that even if it were covered in Goddess’ pee. 😉

A dream upon waking…

The warm tropical sun slowly brightened the corners of the room… the sound of ocean waves caressing the sandy beach drifted in on the soft, flowered breeze that floated the balcony curtains to and fro.

The Goddess stretched her arms above her head and rolled over onto her stomach. Slipping her foot from under the crisp white sheets of the bed, her toes searched for the mouth of the slave lying on the floor next to her. Her big toe found his lips and pressed between them, parting them, and pushing into his warm, wet mouth. Slowly she pushed down more, stretching his mouth wide until all five were in, making an effective fleshy gag. She felt his tongue come to life darting and wriggling between her toes.

He groaned at her erotic penetration of his mouth and his arousal made the tiny sharp pyramids of the MCD ring dig into the sensitive flesh of his cock as it became erect. She pressed her foot down more firmly in a silent command to remain quiet.

Reaching her hand down, she caressed his balls and cock making the MCD’s bite even worse. She smiled to herself feeling the lust and pain rise within him. All for her. Knowing full well the pain she was causing, she continued to tease – softly dragging her fingernails across his thighs.

She opened her eyes and leaned her head over to look down at him. “Good morning Mr. Worthless. I hope your accommodations are to your liking..”

The name came from a spontaneous tease the day before. While she and her Drum lounged at the beach, she had struck up a conversation with another woman. He had knelt in the sand behind her lounger, ready to serve her whim.

As the women talked more, the lady obviously curious, finally looked to him and introduced herself. His Goddess replied, “oh I’m sorry, how rude of me… this is B.M. Worthless the 3rd. He’s a very important man in… support services.”

Those who knew him would have thought the B.M. came from his real initials, but they actually referred to a more… intimate service he provided the Goddess.

Back in the bedroom, she chuckled to herself. “I want you to crawl over to the other side of the bed, get your head under the covers and wake Drum with that talented tongue. I feel like riding my pony boy again this morning! When you’ve got him… up, get dressed in the bathroom and let yourself out. Go get us breakfast from the buffet and wait outside the door until I let you back in.”

Obeying her instructions, he quietly lifted the covers at the foot of the bed and crawled between Drum’s thighs. Softly he took Drum’s cock into his mouth, sucking gently and swirling his tongue around the head as he bobbed up and down, feeling it grow in his mouth. Drum groaned at the pleasurable awakening and once fully erect, rolled towards his Goddess pushing ‘Mr. Worthless’ away without a word. His duty complete, he rose and dressed quietly while listening to the beginnings of their lovemaking. He let himself out and closed the door behind him.

He headed down to the hotel’s huge buffet and gathered the ingredients for her green smoothie, baby spinach and chard, half an avocado, a handful of frozen strawberries, a handful of raspberries, half a banana and coconut water then asked one of the kitchen staff to blend them thoroughly for him. Being unsure what she was in the mood for, he picked out a bag of black tea and made a plate with three Applegate Farms chicken apple sausages. He knew she would usually have 2 or 3, but he was sure she’d be hungry after her marathon fuckfest with her Drum last night. He had heard every last scream and moan from the hall closet where she had put him. And again this morning! Yes, Goddess would be hungry.

The sausages had been frozen and packed in his suitcase. When they arrived at the hotel, he immediately asked they be given to the breakfast kitchen staff, and prepared for Ms. Voltairine only each morning.

He then asked for a plate cover to keep the sausage warm, and a small pot of very hot water for her tea. Glad he’d remembered to grab her MCT oil on the way out of the room, he added a few drops to her teacup.

Taking the tray back up the room, he stood in the hallway next to the door as he had been instructed. He worried that if Drum lasted too long this morning, her sausage and tea water would get cold. Waiting until he thought was the optimal time, he poured the water into her teacup and added the MCT. He watched the tea difuse, darkening the water, hoping she’d open the door soon. The sound of her increasing moans suggested he guessed right…

What does it take???

I was inspired to jot this post down by two things. One was a recent post from Ms. Renee Lane on finding a dominant woman to serve, and a love languages test I took as part of Goddess Voltairine’s Female Led Relationships course. (I heartily recommend you check it out now. Go ahead, I’ll wait…)

So this is my helpful tutorial for guys on how to win over a dominant woman. That said, this is top secret man stuff so,

So. How did I end up married to a professional dominatrix? Us guys are a visual lot, so I’ll use lots of pictures. Feel absolutely free to steal any or all of my ideas here!

It all started with one black pearl.

No, not that Black Pearl, though she loved Johnny Depp when we first met, but a single Tahitian black pearl.

She had made it clear up front she did not date ‘subby boys’ and that none of her relationships lasted much more than two years, so I knew the deck was stacked against me. I figured out early on that her primary love language was receiving gifts, so I started my campaign to win her over.

She mentioned she loved pearls, so for each birthday or special holiday, I’d give her one single black pearl. Each pearl came with a small reminder that if she choose to keep me around long enough, someday she’d have enough to string a full necklace!

She found that amusing as hell and let me tell you right now gentlemen, amusing is good! Be fucking funny! But the joke wore off in a few years so I picked up my game, buying her pearls at every opportunity.

Did I mention she loved pearls and I that I said every opportunity?

‘Nuf said. My campaign continued with little things that I’d make small mental notes about when we were together. For instance she mentioned being cold one time as we sat and watched a movie…

And after taking her to see her Johnny in ‘Pirates of the Caribbean 800’ or whatever it was, we were making silly pirate, desert island, message in bottle jokes afterwards, so of course her next gift was a love letter in a bottle! (no the message is private. Come up with your own material buddy!)

And whenever her interests changed, Johnny Depp turned out to be a real scumbag, Pokemon Go! became her new passion, my gifts changed with them.

Or knowing that being that she was born in the UK and tea was her passion, tea sets and tea continually graced her shelves.

The gifts didn’t have to be expensive. The point was they where thoughtful and fed her love language.

Some gifts where just things she saw at some flea market and commented on. I’d discretely circle back without her and buy it for her…

And she loves her cats. LOT’S of cats. So showing love for her cats was a no-brainer…

And yes, over the course of 14 years I sometimes drew a blank and had to repeat myself…

It wasn’t all about gifts either. Acts of service floated her boat too, so I dug out a hill and helped her put in a waterfall in her garden, and I built her a deck for her patio furniture when she complained about the un-levelness of the yard..

Okay. Have you gotten the message I’m a fucking romantic and an over-achiever yet? Lol! Well yes. Sometimes when you don’t look like Brad Pitt or aren’t as rich as Warren Buffet, that’s what it takes my friend.

Attention. Effort. Time. Pure and simple.

Do not start by discussing what you want and what kinks you love. Definitely not your plans to become her live-in slave. Woo her. She may be dominant, but she is a woman first or foremost. Take time to listen. When she drops little hints, like some movie she wants to see or some kitchen gadget she wants, make a mental note and, if possible, get it for her! It doesn’t need to be expensive. It just needs to fulfill a want that she stated. Pamper her. Let her know you love and adore her and hang on her every word!

Before I retired, my work philosophy was always ‘make yourself indispensable.’ It worked pretty good for me… enough that I could retire comfortably before 60. Use the same tactic with the woman of your dreams. Become her go-to guy. The one she thinks of first whenever she wants something or wants something done. Each time you do whatever it is for her, you are racking up credit in her love bank.

So as far as my story, at the end of it all of my effort she gave me the best gift of all. The one that made it all worth it!