Oh, my relationship with all-things-Wonderland runs deep, and stems from as far back as I can remember; traipsing about my grandparents’ mansion as a young girl, pretending that I was wandering a world far from this one.

It’s no wonder that my masterpiece would be a derivative works — for those unfamiliar, known as Hunting Alice, soon to be an audio drama series and broadcast on the Internet.

This, strangely enough, is not about that … exactly. This is about something else. Deeper. The roots of Roulette, in some sense. While I am always aware of myself, I do have momentary lapses of … treason? No. Season? Hmm, not quite. And ‘reason’ doesn’t cut it, since they’re not always unreasonable; but they do change me.

There are many people milling about in my head — many of which whom are my own creations, and present themselves in my fiction works. But sometimes, I get a bit too method. Certain characters, unfortunately, are so deeply ingrained within me that when something triggers them (or someone) it’s all I can do to keep firm hold of myself. It’s just so otherwise natural to slip into the masque of someone else.

(more…)

Dude.

What is up with guys with average-sized dicks wanting ‘small cock humiliation’ ? Seriously, it’d be like me emailing strangers and wanting them to laugh at the fact that I have no breasts. Or wear a training bra. I get the fascination with, and intrigue resulting from the fantasy of humiliation and degradation, but honestly, people. Can’t you at least have the defect you want to be ridiculed?

When I finally amass enough of a cocktail of boredom and fed-upedness to go on FCL, (not because it isn’t sometimes a pleasant experience, but it’s mostly a I-get-jack-for-it type of minorly pleasant experience — depending upon who’s on at the time) the weirdest thing I get are the average to above-average cock guys who seem to be secretly dreaming of having micro-cocks and having girls laugh at said micro-cocks. It kinda reminds me of an old magazine article from something I read as an adolescent about the stomping fetish — where guys imagine being the insects that the women stomp on in a variety of footwear. (I thought it was bizarre then. I find it equally so now.)

Anyway.

I wouldn’t mind the experience if they’d at least get into the roots with me. Were they humiliated by girls on the playground when they were sporting a much smaller member? Did it turn them on, because they’re naturally submissive? Is this a feeling they’re trying to recapture in their adulthood because sex has otherwise become stale? Do they have a genuine problem with normal channels of arousal? Or is it just a kinky enhancement?

But, noooo. They never want to talk about that. They just want to be ‘humiliated’ because of their perfectly normal-sized cocks.

… Beats the fuck outta me. Your guess is as good as mine.

So, my favourite socio-pundit, Blanche Black, is at it again. This time quoting Sherry Argov. You may remember her. She’s the chick who believed so heartily that women love bitches that she wrote a book on it. Zoom. Best-seller. At that point, she realised that love wasn’t enough for the fairer populous. No, no. If that love doesn’t come with a price-tag — typically with diamonds (and don’t get me started on why that in itself is insanity) accompanied by wedding bells, it’s just not bringing it home. Of course, Argov couldn’t stop there, so she presented to the world this past summer her magnum opus: Why Men MARRY Bitches.

Oh, dear, christ. How can I ever hope to express the full extent of my conflict over this?

Because:

A) It’s largely true — and it works.

B) It shouldn’t. It really, really shouldn’t.

See, I’m rather living proof of this, since my mother’s earliest lessons involved manipulating men. I was too young to realise that it was … well, kinda wrong, and that the world didn’t really work that way. (I know. Funny coming from a domme, isn’t it?) The truth is, I don’t believe in either (or any) sex being superior to the other. Both genders have strengths and weaknesses. Really, they fit together quite neatly, once you get past the cosmic joke of all the internal conflict. And even that’s not true in every case. Quite honestly, dominant women and submissive men get on very well in tandem. So long as they both remember to respect and appreciate each other.

But … it doesn’t seal the deal.

Nope.

Sad, that in this day and age, we have to look at tying the knot as a business transaction, but really, isn’t no different from any other sales conversion. You’ve each convinced the other that you’re worth the contractual agreement, because of your fancy advertising or dollars poured into market research, so you sign on the dotted line. It’s true that men don’t marry nice girls. Nope. They marry bitches. They like nice girls. They enjoy nice girls bringing them coffee and sharing their office space. Cleaning up their desk and ensuring that the blinds are open when they come in and closed when they leave. They probably even appreciate those women who take the time and effort to make their lives a little easier, to see that they feel supported, valued, and loved.

But do they seal the deal with a nice women?

Natch. (more…)

Now, I’m typically not one to sling mud. There are better things to do with my time, and it’s not exactly the most lady-like. (But then again, there are times that I’m hardly that, too.) But it’s been increasingly obvious to me that those who would qualify for a Mistress Akasha Support Group could easily keep me in business for years. It’s one thing to write a lot of erotica and run online training programmes. It’s another to lead individuals from those programmes to believe they are somehow separate from the others; ‘special’. Furthermore, when she has no intentions on following through on any of her promises. Ever. (Which can be a very frustrating thing. I know.) For some, it’s sheer obliviousness, or the result of oppression, being commitment-phobic, and so on. But for others, it’s a whole other ball-game.

For one, Akasha is a narcissist. Pure and simple, she lives in a fantasy world of her own creation to escape the fact that she has never had the capacity for true intimacy or to find real happiness. And God knows why; her life is fine. It has been for ages. And yet, she continues to use, abuse, and discard men. And men continue to let her because it’s ‘hot’. Sure, the concept may be veritably on fire, but the reality will leave you cold. Because that’s all it is and should be: fantasy. Subs are attracted to her because she’s a ‘true femdom’. Fine. Great. And no doubt, many submissive man’s idea of a female dominant is cold, hard, calculating, cruel, and selfish, but the even colder, harder truth is that such a person makes a shitty girlfriend. And probably an even worse wife.

Think about it. You’re a submissive man, and you’re in love. Finally, you’ve found everything your heart has ever desired: strong, independent, successful, beautiful, popular, and an uber-domme with dozens — maybe hundreds — of men at her feet, or dying to be there. Clearly, you’re more into her than she’s into you, but that’s okay, because she’s at least giving you her time and attention, which means you have more than a snowball’s chance in hell of winning her affection. Perhaps, one day, after your trials and tribulations, she’ll be so proud of your selfless suffering, service, and devotion that she’ll love you as deeply and entirely as you do her, since you were the one man who proved to her that you were everything she wants and needs, and now she’ll be forever yours, and you’ll both live happily ever after in femdom bliss.

Ahhhhhh.

But, wait — come to think of it, I hope you really like waiting, because that’s what you’ll be doing a lot of, and for an indefinite amount of time. That’s right, indefinite. As in potentially — make that, likely — never-ending. Waiting, waiting, waiting for her to call or email you back. To want to see you again. To pay attention to you at all. But this is what you’ve wanted — right? The chance to prove to your one true love, that woman you’ve always been waiting for since you were a young boy with raging hormones, that you’re all that, the bag of chips, and the super-sized beverage? Because it’s in your sweet nature to want to be of service. To give of yourself so completely. You’re sure if you just put in (though, after awhile, it feels more like ‘do’) the time, that you’ll be rewarded with all of your dreams and desires coming true.

Sigh. You poor boy. I don’t know how to break this to you — well, okay, I do, but you’re going to have to really brace yourself — but … she’s just not that into you. Don’t take it personally; she’s just not that into anyone. She can’t be. The only one Mistress Akasha loves is herself. Period. And if it stands in the way of her being able to satisfy the one who means most, then she will do it. Unfortunately, that person is often you.

Now, you’re probably wondering who the fuck am I to be targeting a ‘legendary’ woman who has contributed to BDSM and femdom erotica for over a decade. What could I possibly know, and why would I have such a decidedly nasty approach? Well, the truth is, I don’t know her. We’ve never once met, and have only passed each other on various boards and forums. But once upon a time, my boyfriend was one of those madly in love and carelessly discarded after a year or so after an intense relationship he hoped would last his lifetime. We’re not talking about faceless subs in a chatroom or enrolled in her online training programme. We’re talking flesh and blood, visage a visage, real deal. So, forgive my overly catty tone. I’m sure you can understand. (Although why she let him go is something I never will; nor will I ever do. Of course, in that regard, I can always be grateful to her.) (more…)