Female Supremacy as Metaphor

» Worship & ecstasy

Famous Fantastic Mysteries

This is about language not bad sociology.

On and off I’ve noted my displeasure with the ideologies of female superiority and female supremacy. But there’s a funny little distinction - or is it a dirty little secret? - that has come to mind only in recent conversations with Alexandra.

Female superiority will never do more than rile me:

  • It reeks too much of some of the greatest evils in history.
  • I’ve known too many worthless and abusive women.
  • My Momma wouldn’t have liked it.

My verbal aesthetics let me eroticize - in a very narrow way - female supremacy. Only with Alexandra. My imagination filters reality and imbues her with a transcendence no living breathing person should have to live up to.

Our intimacy fosters an illusion of nonphysical distance.

These are fantasies, not things that have happened.

It is part of my slavish aspect to want to exalt the adored and find myself lowly in her presence. In various ways:

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Goddess of Ancient Egypt
Lorenzo Sperlonga


Hungry to be at her feet it is so easy to see myself licking her boots as she gently assures me that I’m where I belong. Because down there is where I want to be and feel my needs met. Her calm assurance of our respective roles leaves me feeling that I really am worshipping a divinity.

My heart inclines to awe. It isn’t diminishing myself but magnifying her.


When my masochism blends with my surrender it is easy to picture her aglow with pure uncontainable power.

The suffering she is about to inflict will make manifest in my flesh my helplessness in her hands. After all I am merely her plaything.

Actually I remember special times when all I wanted to do was gratefully grovel.


This is about as sexist as I ever get: chastity.

My maleness has caused me to make her a present of it. And she’s locked it away so she can mock me for my weakness. Her wry girlish delight renders me little more than another bauble or trinket.

This lyrical exaltation of the other is a way of giving style to our relationship. But what would D/s be without stylization?

I’ve always needed, idealized the feminine. In ways most of you can never know. And in this special way, with a special person I can imagine myself as merely masculine.

None of this is me despising myself but a lyrical vision of some of our time together.


You know I think it’s beautiful, darling. I was dabbling with trying to tie Female Supremacy somehow into my Grand Picture, and what you’ve written does the job so much better than my attempts so far.

It’s inspiring.

This is about language not bad sociology.

snorts You’ve got a very dry sense of humor, haven’t you?

Tom Allen
The Edge of Vanilla

I just stumbled into this entry again. I really like it. I’ve bookmarked it.

Really, it is a prose poem dedicated to you.

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Please share your feelings about Female Supremacy as Metaphor. Please stick to the topic of the entry. Forthright disagreement is fine as long as it is civil.
My thanks,


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