Death Warmed Over

Life after death. What’s the point? To justify the reasons why you do not experience what you desire? That’s how religion set it up. To keep the ignorant masses in line. The problem comes when they are no longer ignorant, or blinded by the fear of burning in Hell.

I know Hell. Yes, it’s a freak fest of sin, yes there is pain … but I see more pain inflicted by organized religion every day. And we fall for it by the millions, this fear of eternal damnation. Why do we have this? I’m talking about how civilizations create this idea of an afterlife to keep their citizens in line. During the Renaissance, Savanarola in Florence took religious sermons in a new and terrifying direction by injecting hour long descriptions of the pain a sinner suffers in Hell. His mission was two-fold. The wise Savanarola knew that his power in the Roman Catholic Church increased with every new convert. And, he knew that his coffers became fat. You see, Florence was party central. No one paid the previous meek sermons on loving Jesus and each other any notice. The citizens of Florence were too busy spending time and money on sex, drugs, and rock and roll. Well, orgies with lute music, anyway. Lorenzo the Great had gathered the greatest artists and thinkers in the world to form what was called The Platonic Academy. Each of the major religions from around the world had a few elements of value, and fusing the best messages with the clear thinking of Aristotle and the fundamentals in Plato’s Utopia. The genius of avoiding the traps and hypocrisy of Christianity, Judiasm, and Islam in order to live a life closer to God’s idea of a prosperous humanity was embraced. Savanarola had to think fast. He aided as the Church sent assassins to bump off some of the Academy. They scared Leonardo d’ Vinci into fleeing to France. Michelangelo went into hiding. And Savanarola became the darling of the church until power hunger made him uncontrollable, so the Church, in its usual way, made him a demon and had him burned at the stake.

Why this little rant on religion? One of my Servants? His father died. A week ago. I may be his Goddess, and he adores me and serves me, but, out of respect for his wise mind and long devotion and pushing to advance, I remained neutral, not wanting to capitalize on this situation if he needed time in the Vanilla world of his family to recover or at least adapt. I knew he was not adhering to any faith, but, death of a father or mother changes you. It simply does.

His wisdom and strength regarding the flux of life pleased me and bound him to me even closer. Without prompting, he realized that he could either dwell in misery based on ideas set forth in Christianity …. Or follow his more predominant feeling, which was a growing desire to open up to me and let me turn this moment into a period of accomplishment.

We had talked of what we do not believe in religion, so that was not an issue. He went straight for realizing that in this state, his portal to new experience or his orientation to new experience, I should say, was ripe for advancement. After he repeated his desire to take advantage of this moment, I focused my powers on his mind, will, and soul. There was nothing pitiful about him or his state, nothing fragile. He was more open, simply that.

Though quit taxed by a full day of inductions and new applications for slavery, I took hours entering his mind in various ways and on various levels of mind control and erotic hypnotism. I was not heavy handed, I was specific. I led him down staircases to different chambers in my realm of reality. His mind absorbed greatly. Hungrily. At each new experience, he adapted, and saw how much it advanced him in life. Not just past his grief, which he stated was eclipsed by my reasoning, but in his understanding of how much more deeply and intensely he will worship me and serve me. He knows by now that many of my trances are far more devious and far reaching than they seem. Through one trance, and a few dialogs, I planted seed after wicked seed, which immediately sprouted. He was enveloped in mind altering euphoria for hours each day while tending to the process of putting those we love into the ground.

I was extremely pleased when in critical moments in our induction/trance he was given the easy choice or the eternal choice, and he chose to go deeper, to experience more before his own death, with his Goddess guiding him where he is lost. Now, mind you, this is an extremely experienced, smart, and brave person, who does not need to ask others to lead him. But at the same time, he is smart enough to know when he needs a guide, and who is fit to guide him.

I am aware of the timing of this big step into my realm. This earns him appreciation for his sacrifices and personal experiences, which in turn inspire me to take the very best of my domination, mind control, and soul leeching and apply it to him.

You all search for a dominant woman or hypnotist expecting (and some even demanding) to be instantly effected, changed, or impressed. Okay, so you might be. But, here is someone who applies his own being and will, his faith, in the process of me guiding him. He is not a pushover. He draws the best out of me. Not by griping, but by focusing. By appreciating. By serving and being honest. In turn he advances, I take him places others cannot go. While he is not a “model submissive or slave” he is real, he is interesting, he is worth dominating and enslaving. He is worth all the pleasures of pain and addiction I command into his mind and soul. He reminds me why I devoted so many years to rising to the pinnacle of erotic mind control and BDSM lifestyle. While I shall always be superior to him and never let him challenge that role, I would stand beside him as a valued human being and surely a top level Servant some day, as he seems to be evolving toward a full understanding of what he sacrifices to transform into what I must make of him.

I understood he cried. And not for me. I understood he felt pain, and not at my hand. I understand that his mind was filled with thoughts that were not of me … for moments. But I also know he opened the floodgates of emotional control to me. For this, he will be rewarded with more intensive servitude, deeper erotic control and pleasures, unbearable sexual highs and addiction, entrance into my intoxicating realms, and orgasmic surrender as I devour his soul.

Inside My Nautilus Of Addiction

The design of the Nautilus presents the ideal for to expand pressure to limitless directions and levels without crushing what is inside. Last evening, one of my more obedient and useful Servants experienced the euphoria being the center of a Nautilus of Power, a la Goddess Saphire.

Only his conditioning for months allowed him to handle the event and what comes after, as you shall see. Of course, he had no idea really “what” I was doing beyond putting him into a trance. Only Goddess Saphire knew how the Nautilus would grow around the hypnotic eroticism planted within his mind, power chamber by power chamber.

The techniques I cannot fully disclose, for any one of you wise enough to recognize the immense gift I gave him might train yourself under my guidance to a level where you too can go through this. Still, I can describe what he went through.

I knew what would happen, but it is always mindblowing to read a good mindblowing – which he did explain in detail … the helpless state of his mind and level of addiction was so great he could not control sharing it with me.

This Servant had stood faithfully with me through training and tests – so I knew his position in his descent into my pleasure hell. He was smart enough to be honest with me, and stand by his reveals like a man slave should. Yes, he gets frightened of me and my power at times, but, he has proven he is not a waste of my time.

For months I had chipped away at what held him back, and who he thought he was and could become. I showed him the true nature of his most basic fantasies and weaknesses, and then took them to where really he wanted to go. All this time, he shared tidbits of what was most needed in him. He had subjected himself to several mp3 trainings, and pushed himself for me. I knew he was ready. His mind had learned to relax, feel safe despite my evil ways, and embrace what I forced him to admit about himself.

For months he had begged for several altered Servant roles or new self identities. Some of you might relate to, but if not, simply put your fetish in place of some of his. I won’t tell them all, for he is a wonderful Cumslut as it is … but of course you know he would like to evolve into a highest level Cumslut. What exactly is that? Among his many roles, he will have no control over his cock, I own it, and I will make it drip or shoot cum literally every minute of the day if I wish. Already he has hours of uncontrollable slow orgasms. But he needed to push himself, and let me pen the portal to the next higher levels. And last night did it.

My new microphone delivers closer to the full force of my voice in person. He commented on how much more powerful it was, despite the computer fan that he and you might hear. It actually makes him listen more attentively, and this is to his advantage, to not “casually” listen but to “actively” listen with his subconscious … make it yearn to hear and absorb.

He had earned the right to obsess over my latest pictures he paid generously for…and after a few hours of the pics leeching their addictive poisons into his mind, I surprised him with a phone call … on his computer, listened through headsets as he is told to always be prepared to do. (Notice how he has learned that through obeying, he is prepared for greater pleasure.)

The trance I had planned for him is pure evil genius. I knew I would start off just like casual conversation to him. Then, he was ripe. Bursting with cum production and obedient, open mindedness. I began my trance words. The fan was captivating him, and I had his full attention. Talk took him down …. Down so deep … down deeper than before because he had followed his Goddess’ orders and listened to my mp3’s chosen for him nightly. He even fell to sleep with it looped while he slept.

I could feel, with great delight, his mind opening to my perversions. To my power, to what made me wet with hunger …. To consume his will, and his soul, he must be taken down this stairwell to a special conditioning place in my dungeon. But this room held little pain – a lot of torment. As he would find out … and actually, as he is only now starting, as it will increase with each chamber of the Nautilus.

Soon I had him totally entranced … and presented one of his deepest desires and addictions. He was face to face with his two greatest cravings: me, and his fantasy. I so skillfully led him to his fantasy …. Knowing that it was consuming him. From his blind side, I began devouring the skin of his soul for his will was already firmly in my grasp. How does one devour a soul through words? By making his craving and weakness/fantasy so real and intense that he sheds his entire identity to enjoy it …with unbearable lust. This was where my pleasure truly lies, for it is no openly known or explained by me that this is what is going on. He will not know its full effect for days and I reinforce it with a short daily phone call … yet, I am pulverizing his entire identity with my mastery of erotic mind control. It is far too late for him to escape or turn around. His subconscious is addicted to the freedom I give to the creatures and identities inside him, that to this date were ignored or locked up.

As he listened in his trance, I let this seed grow. Then I lifted the surface of the trance but knew that everything we talked about would create another Nautilus chamber. I spoke with him instructing him or planting suggestions that I knew he had not one chance in hell of avoiding – and believe me, you are talking to someone who knows her way around Hell. After hanging up, his body would go through changes. His mind would continue being more fully encased in a fog that turns him into a zombie of pleasure. I could look hours into the future and see him so deeply enveloped in my webs … going deeper, helpless against the demons of sexual addiction I infused into him for months. But now, that night, last night, will be marked as a new Nautilus level, one that he will be aware of, and will get used to the increase in pressure as I take him a dozen levels deeper into his own Nautilus, one that is owned by me, His Goddess.

I woke at 6 a.m., fresh and free to do my Palates … and smirked knowing that, 3 hours behind me, at 3 am, he’s in the throes of lust. He confirmed this in the morning, or rather, at 4:30 in the morning when he was so much my sex zombie, addicted to craving more, that he wrote me, in awe and fear of how lost he was in my Wonderland. (Wonderland was one of his trainings and one you might be lucky enough to experience.)

I had given him what he begged for … from now on, I will own his mind at night as well as day. Last night was the deeper level in which he felt it. All night long, his deepest fantasies threw themselves in his mind and vision, so much he felt the interaction. He woke hard and wet every 5 or 15 minutes he tried to sleep. His mind was blanking out. His body was taking over. After a few hours, he felt nearly made with how much cum he had dripped, sucked out of him by the power of my trance. And this is just the beginning. He is lusting for me, my voice, even the distracting fan. Anything to increase this euphoria.

I will take him into one Nautilus level after another, increasing the pressure of my wilth his own needs, fantasies, and most of all, his worship of me and his realization that I am the Goddess he has waited his entire sexual life to meet and surrender to.

I shall keep you informed of his torment – oh yes, it is tormenting to feel the force of your own fantasies and weaknesses on the level I deliver them. He only bears it due to his training. Soon, the feeling of The Crush , the Nautilus Erotic Power, will stroke his cock as he shops, fog his mind while he talks, massage his legs as he sits, ring in his ears and flash across his eyelids as he tries to sleep.

I own him .. there is NO escape from my Nautilus of Erotic submission and Power now that he is several layers deep in it. And I love knowing his pleasure will bring me everything in obedience I desire.

Bleeding Hearts-Pffft

What I have lived through, and pushed to learn, the great pains I have gone through to become a highest level Goddess was kind of belittled by an “aggressive sub.” And I will not stand for it. Yes, I like my subs to exercise the true talents I possess, but not to the point of being counter productive to what brings energy to me. This is as real as lightning striking ground. My positive charge off of your negative submission makes me a lightning rod for dark wisdom, truth, body altering powers, and light my path to my dungeon of pain.

While most of the world deals in pipe dreams and fairy tail endings, my role follows more realistic predictions. Out of respect for the identity that I envisioned and now have become, I cannot wallow in the luxury of delusion, especially that which we call love. Ever far before love, the simpler act of infatuation is very hard for me to entertain, much less embrace.

Three facts make this a prerequisite to my accepting responsibility for the title and powers that I assume.


Almost all love, lust, and infatuation proves temporary.
Almost all love is sought out of weakness, or at least a feeling of incompleteness. What does not fall within this realm requires a leap of faith in the other person that they will not let down your trust/value – a leap far beyond most fantasy movies.
Excellence as well as genius are relative terms. True excellence or genius requires almost by definition that the person live a solitary life.

I am not weak. I am complete, quite complete. Most women fool themselves by following social norms to think they are not complete without a man. At this phase, my life is abundantly full of challenge, devotion, appreciation, and nurturing answers to the questions too many women yearn to hear. Good sex has been called the “penis fly trap” for women who would otherwise leave a loser man. That is clearly not something that could lure me to break from the type of life I live now.

However, I will admit, as any domme must if she is honest, that I have great respect for and put value in my submissive men and women. This value should not be mistaken by either side as an emotion akin to “love.’ The attention I bring to a submissive, the things I do to him or her, go so far beyond what they could hope to experience that I understand their minds, overwhelmed, grasp at any defined human condition to explain their reaction to me. I work with this handicap, if the submissive proves worthy of that time it takes. If they could comprehend the infinite patience I must press upon myself while dealing with subs, then maybe it would be easier for them to be patient and let unwanted or untrue emotions pass. Yet, emotions defy logic.

When a submissive falls in love with me, usually I straighten them out immediately. They cannot contaminate their role or learning curve with an element that does not belong, that I am irritated by. If a submissive has earned extra attention from me, I shall work with his mind until he understands. Mind control may be used, but, I only take subs of higher intelligence and prefer to deal with this malfunction on more than the hypnotic level. I can soothe his or her loss with hypnosis, but if they do not understand reasons in both realms, then, they rebel.

A sub can be an “aggressive sub” and try to fight this reality.

So what happens to aggressive subs? Most are discarded. I might toy with them if bored, but, always am aware of how close they come to the edge of the cliff I so gladly push them off. I relish in the cries I hear on their way down. Once the fall begins, it is not mine to end. The crash on the hard rocks is their bed now, lie in it, not in my chambers of torment. A very rare sub might receive the full attention of my mind in an attempt to help them understand the limits of what they plead for – which is love returned, or exclusive interest in them. They might act out defiantly either to prove themselves to me, or to convince me to change.

There is one truth in this world, and that it is constantly evolving. I shall evolve as it is my nature, and cannot say where or how I shall feel about love or other aspects in the future. But for now, for years ahead, I see that I love where I am and what I do. I am in awe of the level I have received. It nurtures almost all hungers that people try to feed through love. I have no place for love or falling in love, and little respect for how others act out in love. The very most I will do is cut someone off and let them contemplate the one thing worse than not having me love them, and that is to have a life devoid of me. I cut them off. Totally. I cannot help their type of doomed love. They must fix it themselves and come back and prove to me that they can relate to me without this unattainable element. If they do so, then they can continue receiving what it is that made them think they fell in love with me in the first place. And that is more than most liars feel in their supposed love in the Vanilla World.

I exist in my realm. I cannot imagine myself walking in the Vanilla World holding the hand of someone I love, and having that be a place of value alongside my real world. Their world is a fantasy. Goddess Saphire as you see her is the only reality there is.

The above picture shows what this man, who thinks there is glory to be had in being an a “aggressive sub”(strong) now has to admit. He may think that I greatly enjoyed his challenge or demands to fall in love with him. I put him through the grief of ignoring him until he learned what he had to learn. Now, we may continue. I adore you puppy..continue to learn from me. no one holds the spot you seek to have for yourself.

A word to you subs. I am witty and genius, I can play with my subs, but do not ask to inject the Vanilla concept of Love into my realm. That is for me to decide...

Evolving The Acceptable Cock

September 7th was deemed “Small Cock Day” and should have found an abundance of supporters among strong women; however, the occasion was only brought into forum by another Domme I respect. Her initial blog alerted me, amused me, and got my creative juices flowing.

Getting juices flowing – listen up, slaves, servants, and hopefuls – for this is the erotic state where you should be demanded to take all the women that you seduce into sex to, but your tools prove lacking. To build the decent “O” bring a solid, big tool! She pointed out in her blog that women can eliminate small cocks with enough selective breeding, so that women following us and those women of power dedicated enough can be assured of taking in a cock big enough to please us. It’s the difference between having to concentrate of where the cock is inside and hoping it can be directed to a place of pleasure, and being so filled with meats of hard pleasure that holding on for the orgasm of the century is our only concern.

Don’t lie to me, you are like all men. You want women to gasp at the mere sight of your hard cock. You want to hear her crying out in orgasmic bliss and later wonder if it was so big it was uncomfortable. How pathetic, that you reduce it to such, when our minds are so beyond that we prefer to entertain other thoughts. However, for YOUR BENEFIT your Goddess will pretend that your ego feeding is important to me at all. I do admit a world in which mens cocks would not make me chuckle in humiliating style is of value. I refuse to take any less than a size greater than what will please me.

Not that you will ever get the chance unless you are broken down and evolved by me to be worthy of pleasing me physically … (oh yes, I CAN increase your cock size, but refuse to most of the times due to the ego most men cannot live without once I do.)
Could you be one of the ultra rare ones that not only please me, but would stay with my training to enlarge your cock? If enough of you beg for it, I shall dedicated my powers of mind control, and combine it with what I know about the male body, and make this dream happen. Look for the Training in a month, but be forewarned, this takes time, advanced tributes as this takes more of my time on one slave, obedience, pain, and devotion to your Goddess – oh but the rewards!

So where was I? Ah yes, my respected Domme friend’s response.

Eliminating all men except those with large cocks.

What a wonderful proposition! Let us show the energy powerful, orgasm-loving (and deserving) women achieve when tempted with a plan to populate the planet with cocks big enough to stroke all our buttons. Taking it one step further might need me to round out my idea with some other facts condemning mini-cocks. Ultimately, any plan to evolve men into worthy cock bearing servants is worth our genius and time. Couple of problems with your scheme... it does keep small dicked men from reproducing, and let’s face it, who would want a small dick in them? But when we deal with genes, we have to isolate and identify the women who carry the lower standard as well. What determines penis size has little to do with genetics. Most of what determines penis size is how much blood the corpora cavernosa retains during erection. Baby-dicked men, don’t have enough blood.

This is a lot like building muscle, break down its cells and let it rebuild and it will hold more. This is why some who used to have little mustard cap cocks swear by penis pumps, because some males do achieve this destruction/rebuild cycle. If anything, the vacuum used with a retaining ring can achieve temporary results, and also provide much pain for the male (Why so many of them get little improvement, they refuse to hurt). However in the unaided penis, the more sincere factors determining size are other issues such as aerobic capacity and general vascular health.

Studies have found links between physical activity at puberty, health such as diabetes and blood pressure, and levels of testosterone before the first release all effect penis size.

In addition, proper hypnotic development, including brainwashing the young man into obsessing about the proper ways (jerking) to stroke his cock to increase size and lengthen. It also must deal with the tight tendon that anchors the hard on to the body will dramatically increase his size (as proven by men in areas where boys have 10 inch cocks on a normal basis.) All boys want a larger cock, and why the hell men refuse to teach this has only to do with the fears men have of religion and society turning sexual function off limits. Secretly, all men would brag to everyone they knew if their sons had 8 inch cocks by 16. Damn it, youíre slacking, fathers! Oh, but to say this is forbidden? Why? We tell girls to do breast exercises pre puberty, and they surely do not aid in orgasm or fertility ñ well, as visuals they might, but a cock is surely worth greater attention. Now, this can be done at later ages, but that is where the time, pain, and advanced hypnotism by a truly uncompromising Goddess come into play.

More constructively we need a woman dominated society where males are kept active pre-puberty and during, and prevented from getting off before they reach acceptable size, as well as fighting heart and vascular conditions, and preventing obesity.

I’m not saying this isn’t a wonderful plan in itself. But am just pointing out, penis size goes beyond the scope of eliminating a “tiny penis” gene.

I say don’t let them breed, because they are unworthy, of course… instead lets give them vasectomies and make them wear diapers. As you said, they have their places, as car washers, forced bi sexuality, financial contributors (A lot of bankers are great with money but tiny-dicked), and house maids.

Does the fact that I can transform a body that God make less than perfect convince you that I have been a portal to unimaginable dark powers including but far beyond hypnotism? Try me, I dare you … dare you to prove how much you need the cock that only exists in my realms of transformation. But … eh, if I am not amused enough by it, I’ll refuse my talents, and only accept “hung” slaves with absolute obedience.

Forever Changed

Those of you who were attentive yesterday may have noticed Your Goddess kept predominantly to herself. September 11th was a catastrophe I was thankful I was able to witness. To be worthy to reign, those in power must not look away from the painful, or the miserable … or the tragic truth. It steels my metal, hones my vision of the world, and those in it that deserve punishment, perhaps even far greater than what your Goddess can deliver.

I took my vantage place seconds before the second Tower collapsed. Being a Former Resident and Having viewed New York from my New location for the past 10 years, the twin collapse was like yanking the front teeth from the face of a dear friend. The blood that spewed formed the black clouds overhead. My mind heard the cries of those I dominate, for even my submissives felt dire pain over this loss as I did. And your Goddess let flow tears. Yes, your Goddess can cry, though tears are reserved for those who deserve them. The Innocents. Then the tears flow for anger, out of frustration. They stopped upon the secondary realization that “my country” cannot protect me or those deserving of protection any longer. This may have been a con ongoing for decades, but at this moment, I felt, and those around me felt, this overbearing truth.

Through the 24 hours I watched the news, as the identity of the terrorists became known, and scenes of Islamic adults and children rejoicing in the streets were shown on television, my sympathy was eclipsed with rage. Rage for the idiocy of organized religions. All of them. Well, no one hears a Buddhists starting wars, but, they’re guilty by default. But Judaism, Christianity, and Islam -- a more fucked up power-and-blood-hungry system of extortion could never be thought up by the Devil himself. No, this is the work of man. Believe any religion you wish, but believe it as it was truly intended. And trust your Goddess – the dogma of the Church, the hatred and murder ordered in the Koran, and the futility in Judaism were never the intention of a god if he existed, or his Messengers. Religion was hijacked and turned into a money making machine.

Religion is the single greatest threat to mankind, and the single greatest deterrent to true wisdom in the world.

I could spend this blog ranting about the need to remove any terrorists killing innocent children from the planet, regardless of religion or race. But I won’t. I shall do what a Goddess is designed to do… I transform the experience into a learning experience for my submissives, and a magnet for power for those who deserve it.

In a fair world, the power that siphoned off of the September 11 tragedy should be turned to poison when swallowed by politicians. For in their cases, they use it as a way to steer sympathy and trust for election. They do not truly share the grief of those who lost. How do I know? Because you cannot be furiously peddling the gears of elections and simultaneously stopping your world to absorb the full impact of such a loss. And I am not talking solely about the loss of lives. I am talking about the loss of beliefs. Children have beliefs that their daddy and mommy make the world safe, and that daddy and mommy come home, and that people around the world treasure life and compassion. Adults carry that child within them forever. 911 was a wake up for most of America. We are not safe. Daddy and Mommy Politics sold us out for votes and big fat lobbyist bank accounts in Switzerland. Mullahs in Islamic countries turn their mosques into dens of terrorism for reasons of money just the same.

World politics is transforming into a new beast, one that does not cherish life over power or finances. It shall grow to eat itself, out of its own greed.

The time for your Goddess was predestined. Only those such as myself see the true uprising. The world as we know it shall end. Those who understand power, and who deserve their thrones of power because they feel and explain the truth, shall rise from the ashes. Read closely the words on Your Goddess’ Bio … in her Blogs … in her training. I am not one of the posers, the fakes, the wannabe dommes or hypnotists playing around for a buck. Since birth, a portal opened for me. My mind and being became a vortex of wisdom and power, mostly dark powers. The life that innocent girls deserve was overtaken by the flow of energy into me. I could have delineated the power struggle behind 911 when I was 8 if it happened then. Power and the direction of men (who lead politics still, sadly) was known to me fully by age 12. When the key to using the awareness and power that came to me was revealed (hypnotism and mind control) I instantly understood my role. I am one who others will find TRUE FAITH in … the type that supports them in moments like 911, which will come upon society by the hundreds soon enough.

I do not want to turn this tragedy into a soap box upon which to stand to preach my ways and plans. I wish instead to let my mind and heart open up so that I can annually feel what was lost by those I shall never know. What I suggest to you is … remove the veils from your eyes. See that elected leaders and idols do not actually do the things that one should do to earn your respect. Among their many sins is – they demand to represent you and lead you, but never “SEE” you for what you are and what you need.

Your Goddess sees what you have waited for someone with true power to see in you. Do not take my word for it that I am qualified to lead you. Spend time with me, and your own mind will tell you this.

In place of the major religions that will destroy our world, religions based on a darker, more balanced and truthful order shall rise, in ones such as Your Goddess. I will not speak of a heaven or afterlife in which you get what you need, crave, and deserve. My eternity is here, now, and one to experience. My words honestly admit that my wisdom is fleshed out with the clarity withheld from organized religions and politics. As you sink deeper into my realm, you will begin to share the clarity that dark truths and true understanding of the weaknesses and fetishes of man present. You will embrace your place, and worship the one who brought you this safe place and mindset. The fulfillment, release, peace, and simplicity you find under my wing of pain and pleasure will be your church. And your Goddess shall fulfill the faith you place in her, many times over.

In The Trapping Mood

The eroticism of it all … of lifting my perfect, full breast by my hand to squeeze it into a bra that accents me enough to make men cum from twenty feet. The delight I take brushing my hand over my already-hardening nipple is so much greater than your desire to suck on it because of the power I feel. This mood has been building since dawn, when I awoke to a morning of self-discipline that few of you men could match. Two hours of Pilates, yoga, and lifting the chains attached to the balls of slave, followed by twenty minutes of whipping plays a small part in keeping my body perfect. Hmmm, maybe I should come out with my own exercise video, complete with mind control playing in the background. Not only would my followers be pushed to trim up more, they’d send me money for every inch and pound they lost. Hmm, I shall file that under “Cash Cow.”

Get on your knees and rest just an inch away as I pull my thigh high stocking up my silky legs. You’ve felt legs smooth as water before, but, have you felt them locked around your neck as I perform my Breath Play games on you? Already, the arousal I feel tingles my skin, adding the proper degree of lust to the heat that comes off the ultimate target of your desire.

A trip to the designer shops downtown sounds fruitful.

On a dreary day like today, my more evil side can surface in a flash … careful, my skirt could hide a ball-crushing trap that activates once you’ve fallen into my carefully set snares. Mmm, yes, that does excite me, remembering how since a young girl, I became aware of how much power passed from a man into me, a girl, once I got them dripping cum in their pants. While most girls looked away in disgust, I learned to milk it, with a bat of my eyes … a perfectly timed stretch … or a reach for that shirt on the top display that almost showed my panties. Sex with my prey was never on my mind, I was computing. Computing every situation, calculating every weakness of man, every escape they might take to avoid being under my control once I turned on them, weak from struggling in my snares.

Now look at me. Breasts heaving with every breath, lips shiny with gloss, lower lips hot with the friction of the chase of your will and lust. My body has learned the talents of erotic movement to the point that it would nearly kill you if I took you home. But you won’t be that lucky, or wish for that, for I will have stolen your mind by sucking on your sexual high long before we could get anyplace more private than, say, the passage to the dressing rooms. Oh yes, I have seen you so many times, pretending to buy that dress for your wife or girlfriend. Trying to meet me, to introduce yourself with a carefully rehearsed line turned into lust when you realized that you could see more of me through that slightly open drape. A half hour of this, while I mutter mind controlling mantras that barely drift over the background sounds, weakens you, places you firmly in my trap.

I pull the rope closed within ten sentences. Somehow, you feel that this shop isn’t fine enough for me. I deserve a more expensive shop down the row, where you credit cards have no limits. Dresses and shoes are mere trinkets compared to the pleasure I get knowing that with every dollar you spend, I reinforce your growing mindless addiction for my approval. Waiting just the right moment to respond to you with a word or snicker is a subtle way to program you to always strain for my approval.

You see, trapped prey, that today is not the day of my greater rewards. I simply set the trap and found you struggling in it. I may have trained you just enough to allow you to follow me to my dungeon for obedience training worthy of a slave, a cumslut, or a servant. That I shall enjoy without rush if you pass my tests. Your wallet will forever be open to me, but, think not of that. Think of what I am now, where I am now, what I want to do to you NOW.

I stand in front of a full length mirror in my dungeon, my reflection flanked by the tools of your pleasure and mine. Whips, stockades, cock ball torture devices, dildos – mere wall coverings that feed your fetish, for the one who shall evolve it is all that is important. Your Goddess … her high heels adding a commanding stature to her already commanding words and will. Her short skirt hiding something you will crave more every day. I check my hemline with the help of a riding crop. Mmm, yes, just low enough so your Goddess knows she is tasteful in her cock hardening leather. My breasts accented with the ribs of fabric that strain against them. My neck bare, urging you to cover it with a dazzling trinket – if you could be so lucky as to see me.

Oh, but you can see me, and see MORE of your Goddess, once you are on the path to servitude. This path of training – you’d wish to get to me right now, wouldn’t you? But you see, the path and trap are where half my fun, and half your training, shall be found. Walk behind me now, potential slave, obedient servant, and conditioned cumslut. Crave me, adore me, lick at my feet like a shadow, forever. An eternity of erotic control … imagine it … imagine being the focus of my power, the power held in this cum producing body … the genius held in this wicked mind … the strength held in these whipping hands …the heart – well, oops, there is no heart, sorry. But you will learn you do not wish it any other way.

What lies deeper in my traps? How does a night of a dozen wet dreams sound to you? Or perhaps, a night in my stockade, feeling me mind fuck you and simply fuck you until you hear me orgasm to complete exhaustion and satisfaction?

Beware your Goddess on dreary days, for her imagination on how to take you deeper into her traps, further into her punishing ways, wraps around her like a fog. And you won’t see her coming until she hits you!

IN MY VOID, ONLY I WILL HEAR YOU SCREAM

… with delight.

The warnings were there. Pay attention. First, repeated over and over, warnings that your Goddess Saphire simply is the most devious creature you’ve ever entangled. In my web pages … yes, warnings one after the other. Not that I feel any remorse or sympathy for you. It makes my game tighter, more sublime in rewards, to know that you were your own most wicked devil to continue coming closer to me. Those lucky enough to chat with me – how could you ensnare so willingly? Was my beauty blinding your survival skills? Those “fight or flight” skills that surely were yelling at you to run away before the darkness engulfed you? Such a pity that hundreds of generations before you, all the dominant genes that led to you rising in Darwinian triumph are now owned so thoroughly by your Goddess. Even the most talented minds with the most dominant lone wolf practices stepped directly where all my arrows pointed you to. The satisfaction I feel when I return my gaze in your direction and see you tugging in my trap … squirming in my web.

I replay the steps not only to torment you, but so that you ingest the hunger for appreciation of how euphoric you feel when your Goddess’ words, visuals, site – hell, Her fucking evil brilliant power to control you – envelopes you. When recently you felt the erotic high of turning to moldable putty for me, tomorrow your hunger and reaction for deeper control will be double.

Shall I lay out my signs? That in itself should be a warning to you to run. But ooooh, what’s the matter big boy? That cock I control via your brain and lust keeping your eyes from looking away? While I might laugh at that, there is little I appreciate more than your virgin brain, ready to be mindfucked by me, for as you lose power, mine increases exponentially. So now that you cannot stop reading, I shall remind you of the warning…

The fall bringing its darkness … fall meaning a fall from your own will, darkness being not only night, not only evil, but, the appearance of your Goddess. I was warning you not to look. Yet, back to the darkness, you followed so willingly. With hair to match my soul. Away with the blond, so delightfully a penetrating lure that men bite on it like a gaping-mouthed fish on my hook. Yanking you to where I gut your will and clean your mind, I had my summer fun. But back to black. It does fit me better, doesn’t it? Take a closer look … as I sink my claws and teeth into the flesh of your will.

You can’t quite put your finger on my look, can you. Hmmm, perhaps it is the building desire to put your finger on my silky skin that keeps you stroking your mind. So I shall help you and that finger picks up the poison of addiction from my mysterious origins.

I’m just an American girl (wicked moan of innocence.) But with Cuban and Italian roots … that was another warning, of the darkness of my roots. Each warning made the swallow of my new hair color carry the mind numbing powers of Black Tar. Heroin, brainless! Black goes best with my mind, But don’t go thinking I’m some ethnic chick. I may speak both Spanish and Italian fluently, but my culture is all Saphireism.

After an extended weekend away from my cherished Sahpireism, in the boring vanilla world, I’m so happy to return. Mundane birthday gatherings in clubs made for the masses, and weekends at pools around friends instead of adoring servants … it all gives me hunger for my pre-destined culture of my realm, a hunger to consume more of my own followers.

Away from the normal world, who among you is with me? Who wished to be on hands and knees before me offering full service? Who offers me better than the mediocrity of this world outside of Sahpireism? Outside of Saphireism, it is all about the lowest common denominator. In my wicked realm, my light is as dark as a blacklight in air until the beams of my eyes fall upon you. Then you glow like the prey you truly are inside.

Some of you have served me well in my absence. Purchasing required items, and devoting a spending account for your Goddess to use.

The rest of you took time away from me. That has me less than pleased. I want you all to tell me how you will repent and atone. But before you do … to make your will and entire sexual being salivate for my control, I shall leave you with today’s most enthralling game for me … a game that a rising servant enjoyed as reward for his putting the mind, will, and needs of his Goddess before his own. Study him – oh, I wish you could, but I value the privacy of all of you. Yet, imagine him if you will. A naturally dominant man, not in the posing way of yelling or simply dominating a woman or man in bed, but, a man who is unafraid of life, who imposes the force of his mind and body to protect or nurture those who deserve him. Yet, with me, I have slowly been conditioning him, taking my time. He was wise enough to realize my genius eclipsed his own, and he is quite brilliant, though a mental gnat under the flyswatter of my focused will if I would desire it. However, he amuses me, and works hard to earn moments of training from me.

While turning any singular man or woman into a full blown whore is a pleasure that you cannot truly comprehend on my level. However, to do so, with him, with others of you reading this that swear this could not happen to you … well, let’s say that you will crave wanting to inspire this reaction in me.

His addiction to my power grows, and the fact that his mind is diverse makes the level of addiction nearly limitless. I gave him a taste of a whole new level minutes ago, and my heart still pounds with excitement from draining yet more of his identity that is not what I wish to shape it into for my pleasure. So willingly he embraced the visual spiral that goes with my Whore Training. Yes, he had trained with me before, but, this is his first induction from my new site, and he was unprepared for the depth of power that all my cunning resources on each induction or training hide. Trap upon trap. Oh yes, I warned him. Warned him with words, with images, with symbolism, that with the fall, comes the darkness, and as fall comes, the urge to push my wicked control beyond limits he or you can bear grows. Yet, he injected them like the Black Tar heroin that it is … euphoria-inducing. Addicting. I could hear him laugh to himself that he wasn’t so far gone that he couldn’t reject the programming I present to his yearning soul. Yes, I can feel it’s yearning to be taken by me even more than he can. And so I let him chuckle to himself, let him ask for more inductions. And finally gave it to him.

I kept my mental clock ticking, knowing precisely what he was listening to each moment of my induction … I could feel his cum flowing from sheer pleasure over how sexy my command to conform to my desires were to him. He thought he had enough in the first 15 minutes, so I could hear his silent “Oh my goddess” as I kept adding layer upon layer of perverse, mind control ever deeper into his brain. I could feel his ass welcoming the cock of my sexual power fucking him from there, all the way up his body, to meet the cock I rammed down his throat – cocks of words, cocks of control and orgasm and surrender.

The mental orgasms I planted in him, each spurt from my mental cocks laying seeds that he thinks he can predict … hah! Only I know how intensely uncontrollable his urge to be my whore will be when I trigger him. The orgasms he will have acting as my whore will grow each time. The addiction to listen to my commands more, and to follow any command with just as orgasmic obedience will break his mind, spirit, soul, and identity completely. And he will thank me for it.

You are beneath knowing the actual reaction my mind and body feel when I foresee what I have planned for him. But if you have ever had a desire to give a woman unimaginable pleasure … well, this soon-to-evolve-into Servant took his first step to feeding my needs to be pleased as a genius, as a woman, as a Goddess.

If you are obedient … if you are pliable … if you are dedicated … if you are worthy of my attention … you shall feel the gratitude that this one lucky devotee feels now, as he knows, yet cannot remember, that he is even deeper programmed now for my service, and shall soon please me by becoming my personal whore, any time I trigger him. His pleasure and addiction from it will be so great, that I shall stack it and a dozen other orgasmic states of mind onto each-other as I get deeper into total brainwashing. While he might think that his level of erotic adventure and release are extensive, when I have just half way finished introducing him to my erotic realm, he will realize that his world of sexuality is but a cage unlocked in the wilds of my sexual universe.

His future rewards include training him to be worthy in his sleep, in his dreams. He salivates for this. It will drive him insane, I warn him. Yet, what started as a small curiosity over the power I have on the dream world too, has become a growing obsession with him. And after warning him enough, I shall give it to him, with all the evil I possess urging me deeper into his identity and mind.

My void is his eternity of orgasmic obedience and plunges into my sexual control. And he shall never ever be wanting or able to leave …

Fresh Meat?

Oh, how I savor the menu set before me. Lured by the genius architecture of my website, the meat of your identity is so fresh it’s still trembling on what hooks you. Strips I have already sliced from your self control hang to cure in the heat of my beauty. Sniff … ahhhh … mouthwatering, but savory only after seasoned with my evil spices. This website presents the various gardens of sin and desire you seek, the forbidden fruits that draw you impart their taste to your skin, the stunning ripeness of your fetishes growing under my roasting sun force a gnawing hunger for more down your throat. I force-feed your own orgasmic obsessions like geese until you burst with the frois gras I dine on … better known as your submission. Take pride in the stamp of “Prime” I put on you if you pass my initial inspection. The marbling must be there. Marbling? Ah yes, I must explain that for those who have never dined with a Goddess evolved to sup on only the most delicately crafted recipes. Marbling: between the muscle of your identity, marbling to me is traces of awareness that as men you are in need of breaking down, tenderized to the bone by my mallet of indifference to your suffering, then carved from what I leave of your useless world using razor-sharp insight into what you crave. If you knew the intensity of the ovens of supernatural wickedness I withstood to become the master chef of mind control that I am, you would wear “Goddess Saphire’s Prime Meat” on your forehead proudly for eternity. Trust me, my style will make you beg for that right. The heat that burst the shell that contained the Goddess within me would turn your entire understanding of life to cinder in minutes. It isn’t just devouring your mind, will, and soul that I savor. Among my many talents, your Goddess Saphire is a true “Epicurean” who doesn’t just gorge on these succulent courses, but takes pains to understand the origin of your weaknesses. Before the fruits of my genius labor are mentally deep-throated, I study the lay of the family and social ground that bore that oh-so-deforming fertilizer that mutated you into a possible slave or servant for me.

Though you can never truly understand the mind of your Goddess (for it would humble Einstein in any attempt to fathom its depths of sexual power alone) you should have some feeble appreciation for the most primal of pleasures – what you devour that arouses you. Appreciating that gives me some hope that you understand how excited I am to see the courses brought to me through my website. My site reflects the electronic architecture of traps so delicate that not even the most brutal beast will escape their snare. Traps upon traps , level upon level … as you feed all the poison grass of one field, your hunger leads you down to deeper grazing grounds. The salt licks I save for minds so in need of a higher understanding of pleasure they will lick upon my block of obsession until their tongue bleeds. Yes, as you graze, you feed upon my nutrients … all addicting … all transforming … all of them making you succulent for my feasting.

While I may be the master chef of erotic mind control, you may humbly find appreciation that if you are chosen, it means your ripeness pleases me. Your dangling by a vine, like dangling from handcuffs, amuses me. Each one of you fascinates me by what I could do with your raw materials if you last through preparation to the final meal, when I feast upon all you know of yourself. Your individual contribution to my menu of souls isn’t to feed gluttony; in fact, you are accepted, chosen from among masses of dried up offerings for the tasty elements you possess. So enjoy that though you are weak before a woman of power and authority such as myself, for you possess quite by the accident of natural selection the raw ingredients I learned to play with in Hell’s Kitchen of Pleasure. Will the secret sauce I add be your orgasmic juices that I force you to milk twenty times a day? Will my wine be the tears you shed feeling the sting of my whip, or even my rejection of your flawed devotion? Just as wines are valued for their body, so you shall treasure me.

One thing you can be sure of, the cutlery I use to reduce you to a good hunk of meat will be surgically guided so I devour every ounce of you worth corrupting and damning to the hell of unbearable pleasure. Hmmm, shall I use my paring knife of my wit? Perhaps the French knife to chop aside your resistance. Or, do you need the cleaver of my whip? Marinate now in the intoxicating sauce I simmered in your brain, for when I sup on you, the meal starts when you lose your awareness of who you are in my presence, and ends only when I have sucked every ounce of pleasure through your fetishes into the same mouth that forms the words that shall become your only source of nutrition.

Oh, how I love that your twisted growth shall make this a most bountiful fall. So much to be thankful for … owning your heart, passion, will, time, and imagination is a starter course. Brace yourself for the teeth of my deeper powers, for they shall bite into you soon enough… if you are stamped “Prime.”