Archive for December, 2012

Posted in Uncategorized on December 29, 2012 by thecountessshadow

FemDom & Fat Girls

Semiotic power, as it relates to FemDom & Fat Girls, refers to the sign system that is in operation between a Woman of Power and her supplicant. Because this system reveals itself most comprehensively during retribution periods, the two phenomena are typically linked together in discourse. But in truth, this sign system is at work between the two participants during all points of connection between them, such as in the act of looking at her, whether that be accomplished by admiring her in person or even by photograph, voice recordings, written word, etc. Whenever and however the woman appears to the man in consciousness, semiotic power is at work.

So, just what can we learn from the analysis of such a sign system? What do we even mean by referring to these ‘signs?’ Well, Semiotics is a complex study, but the long and short of it is this: our perceptions…

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Merry Christmas

Posted in A Different Perspective with tags , , on December 25, 2012 by thecountessshadow

I have never witnessed the snow, but it feels as if it is snowing in my heart!

If the fall is the season of romantic sadness, then it would be proper to say that the Christmas is the time of romantic joy.

Everything seems so white, so calm and beautiful, and I sense happiness crawling gently into my sad heart!

I am not in the mood for philosophising tonight, I am so happy to do it, so just let me say, we wish you a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year 🙂

Her Wild Stallion

Hijo de la Luna..Son of the moon

Posted in A Different Perspective with tags , , on December 18, 2012 by thecountessshadow

Hijo De La Luna

Tonto el que no entienda
Cuenta una leyenda
Que una hembra gitana
Conjur? a la luna
Hesta el amanecer
Llorando pedia
Al llegar el dia
Desposar un cale
Tendras a tu hombre
Piel morena
Hablo la luna llena
Pero a cambio quiero
El hijo primero
Que le engendres a el
Que quien su hijo inmola
Para no estar sola
Poco le iba a querer

Luna quieres ser madre
Y no encuentras querer
Que te haga mujer
Dime luna de plata
Qué pretendes hacer
Con un nino de piel
A-ha-ha, a-ha-ha
Hijo de la luna

De padre canela
Naci? un nino
Blanco como el lomo
De un armino

Con los ojos grises
En vez de aceituna
Nino albino de luna
Maldita su estampa
Este hijo es de un payo
Y yo no me lo cayo
Y yo no me lo cayo
Gitano al creerse deshonrado
Se fue a su mujer
Cuchillo en mano
De quien es el hijo?

Me has enganao fijo
Y de muerte la hirio
Luego se hizo al monte
Con el nino en brazos
Y alli le abandono

Luna quieres ser madre
Y no encuentras querer
Que te haga mujer
Dime luna de plata
Qué pretendes hacer
Con un nino de piel
A-ha-ha, a-ha-ha
Hijo de la luna

Y en las noches
Que haya luna llena
Sera porque el nino
Este de buenas
Y si el nino llora
Menguara la luna
Para hacerle una cuna
Y si el nino llora
Menguara la luna para
Harcerle una cuna

Son of the moon
Foolish is he who doesn’t understand
A legend tells
Of a gypsy woman
Who pleaded with the moon
Until dawn
Weeping she begged
At the break of dawn
To marry a gipsy man
“You’ll have your man,
Tawny skin,”
Said the full moon
From the sky
“But in return I want
The first child
That you have with him.
Because she who sacrifices her child
So that she is not alone,
Isn’t likely to love it very much.”

Moon, you want to be mother,
But you cannot find a love
Who makes you a woman.
Tell me, silver moon,
What you intend to do
With a child of flesh.
A-ha-ha, a-ha-ha,
Son of the moon.

From a cinnamon-skinned father
A son was born,
White as the back
Of an ermine,
With grey eyes
Instead of olive —
Moon’s albino child.
“Damn his appearance!
This is not a gypsy man’s son
And I will not put up with that.”


Believing to be dishonoured,
The gipsy went to his wife,
A knife in his hand.
“Whose son is this?
You’ve certainly fooled me!”
And he wounded her mortally.
Then he went to the woodlands
With the child in his arms
And left it behind there.


And on the nights
The moon is full
It is because the child
Is in a good mood.
And if the child cries,
The moon wanes
To make it a cradle.
And if the child cries,
The moon wanes
To make it a cradle.

Her Wild Stallion


Posted in A Different Perspective with tags , , , , on December 18, 2012 by thecountessshadow


Thirst that no water can ever quench!
Sacred thirst like a fate that you can’t run away from!! The harder you try to quench it, the wilder it becomes.
Is it about the water ? Is there no water and it’s just a mirage, a delusion ? Is it possible ?
Or may be a person is like a bucket! and the bucket has a hole, you pour water and it just falls down, and the bucket is never filled!
Happiness, is there something like happiness for real ? It seems that happiness is like a phantom, a phantom you see when it is far away, and you run chasing it, reaching with your hand to touch it, just to hold the nothingness, to find out it was a mere delusion, a creation of your own mind!
It is very painful at times, but still, after everything, life is the most sacred, the most beautiful melody.

Her Wild Stallion

New Oedipus!!

Posted in Poetry & Literature with tags , , , , , on December 12, 2012 by thecountessshadow


Naguib Soroor, an Egyptian striver, poet, writer and theater director. Born to a poor family in a small Egyptian village, he witnessed a lot of oppression, social injustice, dictatorship and brutality at a very young age, and his own experience has shaped his pathway in life.
He left the school of law to join the institute of performing arts from which he was graduated, and started shining in the world of poetry and theater. He joined the communist party and struggled against the ruling regime, after which he was exiled outside Egypt for many years until he came back in the mid sixties. You may agree or disagree with Soroor’s political views, but after all  Soroor has always taken the side of the people, and was always ready to pay the price for his word. He was a very genius writer, with an extraordinary depth and truthfulness. This is one of his short poems, called the “New Oedipus”. It is a part of his amazingly deep and beautiful divan ” The Human Tragedy”, a divan that values human life, dignity, and rights, like all of his work..

It was very difficult to translate this poem and maintain its rhyme, so forgive me if you feel it a bit tough, that is because of my translation, and not because of Naguib Soroor’s original beautiful words.

You will find here the Arabic script Naguib Soroor wrote, followed by my humble translation.

اوديب الجديد
و سرت يا حبيبتى تشيلنى بلد
و يا حبيبتى تحطنى بلد
و الموت يزرع الطريق..فى كل شبر مقبرة
حتى اتيت غولة بمنعطف
!…كانت تدق ملح
و كان حولها من العظام تل
يا هولها بشعرها الطويل
بعينيها..بظفرها المهول
بنابها..بصوتها الرهيب
يا ايها الغريب
انى هنا من الف قرن
معى سؤال لم يقل جوابه احد
..قتلت الف الف
..بلعت الف الف
!فهل تجيب يا غريب؟؟ او تموت؟؟
شفاعة يا غولة الدهور
انى تعبت و السؤال قد تعب
!!ضراعة يا غولة الدهور
اموت لو تجيب..فلتمت ان لم تجب
 :القت سؤالها يطق من عيونها الشرر
ما اعظم الاشياء؟؟
ما اجمل الاشياء؟؟
ما اخلد الاشياء؟؟
و حينما اجبت انه الانسان
!!رايت غولة الدهر تنتحر
و هكذا يا حلوتى اتيت
يا واحتى على الظما من ربع قرن
يا فرحتى من بعد حزن ربع قرن
يا كعبتى..يا حلم ربع قرن
أنا هنا..أنا هنا..أنا هنا و لم امت
!!أنا هنا و لم أمت
نجيب سرور

New Oedipus

I did walk
from a country to another
and death cultivating the road
with a tomb at every inch
until I reached a turn
where an ogress was grinding salt!

The bones around her forming a hill!
Scary she was
with her long hair
her wild tusk,
her eyes and her huge nail!

With a monstrous voice she spoke:
You stranger
Here I am
for one thousand years
A Question I have that nobody
ever answered for real!
I killed so many
I swallowed so many
they never answer
and everybody dies
so would you answer stranger
or would you die ??
-Please, ogress of time, let me pass
the question is tired
and so do I !
-Mercy, ogress of time
I die if you answer
so if you don’t
you will die!!

With an evil spark in her eyes
She asked:
What is the greatest of all things??
What is the most beautiful of all things??
What is the immortal among everything??
That is Man, I said!!
and the wild ogress was scared
and stabbed herself dead!!

That’s how I came my love
my oasis in the deserts of thirst
my joy in the forest of sadness
my temple
and my dream!
Here I am my sweetheart
I am not dead afterall
I am here
I am still here!

Naguib Soroor.

Her Wild Stallion.

The submissive god! Plz dont panic! Just a very short story!!

Posted in Femdom Literature with tags , , , , , , , , , on December 8, 2012 by thecountessshadow


Goddess he called her, but he knew he was the real God!
In the mazes of his mind the meaning was born, in the corners of his heart, the flowers of love and wisdom were grown!
On the wings of his soul, he carried her to the high summits, where the secret of life lies in repose.
Goddess he called her, with all her absurdity and carelessness, with all her beauty and cuteness!

Goddess he called her with the battle she ignited inside the chambers of his mind, the one eternal battle between the logic and the dream, the relative and the absolute! And out of that battle, in the burning ashes, the question arises.
How possibly could this arrognace co-exist with that submissive nature?!
How possibly could this wild aggressive nature co-live with that passionate heart?!

Like every question that matters, there are no answers, but if he is ever going to find an answer, it will definitely be hiding there, in the mazes of his madness.

Her Wild Stallion