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harvey3au
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rachelcd5
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OmaghBondage
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Hint boys: if you want any attention, you have to repeatedly subject yourself. Keep asking how my day was or saying nice things, even if I don't reply. I won't notice you unless you pay attention to me. I'm not going to recruit from a generic hello: only pros do that. I have other fish to fucking fry. If you take it personally that I'm not taking you on from one email, then you shouldn't regard yourself nearly that highly.
I am not politically correct at all toward male dominated religions. I am equally intolerant of all cultures that beat, subject and define the role of women. I am a goddess channel pure and simple. Those who give the Goddess love and devotion will receive mercy. If this is your root desire, and not some nefarious idiotic desire to be only a rotten kinky freak and force a woman to YET AGAIN do all the work pleasing your whims, then you will deserve the whippings I give.
Inside the bedroom I am extremely physical, sensual, erotic, juicy and forcefully kinky. But that's for someone special. Outside the bedroom I'm a fairly normal woman with a no-nonsense attitude, and it doesn't score me brownie points with most alcoholic cheaters (I mean, so-called men), around here who typically want to throw their money away on bitchy, psychotic eye candy. As for subs, most sub men are too terrified to approach someone they suspect of being Domme. So here I am, out of the closet.
I'm not your Typical Norn-Irish Female looking to empty your bank account and decorate your arm, wearing fifty layers of slapped-on makeup and fake tan. I am an assertive, conservatively-dressed, intellectual BBW with natural hair streaking, nice skin but minimal makeup, a transplanted Bohemian and cosmopolitan attitude, and an aching desire for intelligent conversation with a male who respects me and eventually seeks worshipful obedience to a loving Domme.
I own a local business, so financially, I've got my own thing going on. If I'm not a gold digger, I expect you to be precisely the same. I'm not into childhood baggage or Multiple Personality Disorder instigated by having to swallow illogical dogmas, so I naturally prefer pagans, new agers, and good hard science-sharpened atheists.
Or, of course, those who wish to be given a chance to engage in healthy Goddess worship.
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I will be absent from my journal for a few days. I am currently destroying the life of an online sexual predator I met 3 years ago and who seriously fucked with my head, and I found out the real extent of his sickness only just recently long after I dumped him. Thankfully he was stupid enough to share information with me regarding his work, friends, family, hobbies and associates. By the time I am done with him, he will be destroyed, because he is too narcissistic a victim to get suicidal. Which is a shame, because he really needs to kill himself. |
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A watched connection speed never loads.
This winter bullshit has got every bored fucking dick online right now downloading porn while I desperately try to do legitimate shit online. It pisses me off really, that there is no such way to bump the worthless spotted dicks downloading snuff video and porno off a loaded mobile mast connection when I need my mail to load or check the weather on a news site for the LEGITIMATE life that *I* lead.
Speaking of dicks. I thought about something. A couple years back when I *TRIED* enlightened dating in this backward-ass donkey-fucking hamlet of drunk fucking popesuckers, (NO PATTYFINGERS IF YOU PLEASE HIC HIC), I noticed with the spudsuckers I tried fucking (who were over 40 mind you- under 35's are actually 3 generations ahead and current with modern enlightenment and genuinely decent fucks) that it seems common that a lot of them have erectile issues due to a tight foreskin opening. This means that tons and tons of you guilt-sodden shitbags don't jerk off enough to actually have a nice loose foreskin, and would prefer to spend jerkoff time drunk instead of jerking the fuck off. It only requires jerking off a couple times a week (personally I would prefer twice daily), and in addition, showering several times a week and pulling that motherfucker back to sponge out any possible buildup that becomes cheese that becomes smegma that becomes gangrene if you, (like most vomit-inducing christly saints with eyes up to heaven and hand over your heart), hate your fucking dick so much that you want that son of a bitch cut the fuck off.
So guess what? Any males reading this right now, who are uncircumcised like the woad-slapped white barbarians you are, please do yourself a favor. If your foreskin is too goddamn tight to let your dickhead peep out and say hello in full glory without much pain and suffering (and we're not talking aobut chastity devices here- another story entirely) please start jerking off more and drinking less. Your dick will love you for it and your prostate will not turn into a cancer factory. Oh, and eat more fucking fiber too and cut the fish and chips, because entirely too many of you deep fried fuckers get deep fried colon cancer.
Just do like Yanks. Eat salad daily, be too busy working to get drunk, and jerk off like a monkey. You will be a happier spud.
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Have you ever noticed that on adult friend finder, all the tens of thousands of Irish men listed on that site are married men looking for pussy, or else terminally clueless culchie bachelor mama's boy virgins who are *pretending to be married men looking for pussy*?
What the fuck is up with that?
Whatever happened to "single" or "divorced" and "ok with it, not a problem, it means I'm available for a relationship now"?
DUH.
What the hell ever happened to enlightened adult sexuality and playing the whole fucking field from goalpost to goalpost, before realizing that all pussy is the same and what matters is one who gives a shit about you?
Or do spudsuckers always do it in reverse? Find the pussy who gives a shit, marry her at 21, breed like rabbits and then when you realize how much possible ass you've missed, go look for other pussy when you get bored with hers because you were a god damn guilt-sodden idiot who never had the balls to go and play the field BEFORE making any kind of commitment, like a reasonably enlightened adult is supposed to do? Of course, while she is juggling your fucking clones and trying to stay sane doing it.
That's right, you're Irish. You're supposed to sit in virgin hell until you're in love when you have sex...which is why when you get drunk enough to blindly fuck an anonymous HIV ridden slapper, you don't use a condom so for that 3 1/2 minutes you can pretend to be in love.
Moron.
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OK Ireland, I want to do a little poll here. If someone such as myself stands up and starts talking about all the struggles I've overcome and successes I had, the talents I have, the good things I've done, the positive outcomes and battles I've been through, hands up everyone whose first thoughts consist of "Good on you. Everyone deserves to make as much of their life as they want."
Good. I see a couple of hands here in the room. You can put them down. The following does not apply to you. You are a nice Irish person. You may go about your business.
OK, now, Ireland, when I stand up and start talking about the struggles I've overcome, the successes I've had, the talents I share, the good things I've enjoyed in my life, etc etc, if the first thing that goes through your head is "Get over yourself", and the first tactic you try and think up is a way to humiliate me in some way, to cut my legs out from under me at the knee, etcetera etcetera, I want you to put up your hand.
Oh look, there's let's see...about three-quarters of this room just raised their hands. OK, I want YOU to do the following:
Kill yourself.
No, seriously, kill yourself.
Swallow a bottle of paracetamol and go to bed. Break into a heroin clinic and eat all the methadone. Nah, just buy a fat bag of heroin and OD. Suck a tailpipe and carbon monoxide yourself. Crawl into a 5000 gallon whiskey bottle and catch cirrhosis. Smoke 5000000 cigarettes and cancer yourself in 2.2 seconds. If you live in Dublin 4, buy a big fat bag of coke and snort it all in 5 minutes and explode your fucking ticker. KABOOM.
Because seriously, if you're the sort of papsmear spudsucker piece of garbage who wants to cut people down to size, you will be an abject failure in my homeland. Oh no, wait, you'll thrive- because nobody will be begrudging YOU, and it will be like Ireland never even existed for you, asshole. And Americans will worship your ass as some sort of lilting angel from white shangri-la in the land of celtic fairy sheep. That's what fucking pisses me off the most. As long as you're here, you fucking shitheads, you'll begrudge, won't you? If I'm in a pub and I say something nice about something I have, or have accomplished, or look for positive acknowledgement in any way, if I try to put up signage for my business, advertise, try to be a decent person in any way, any fucking thing, you will begrudge it. And you know what? I don't want to fucking know you. You are worthless. You are not human. You are meat in my way. You are not even a you. You are an it. It is not worth knowing. It is worthless.
Fuck It. And fuck Ireland's begrudgers. If you are a begrudger, shut the fuck up and stay out of my way, because I could really give a shit what you have to say about me, except that it damages my business, so you know what? If I catch you at it, I will rip off your motherfucking head and shit down your motherfucking neck, if you don't start fucking running.
NOW. |
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OK IRELAND, let's learn some new definitions and logic skills shall we?
SALT TRUCK: (noun) definition: a lorry that dumps large salt crystals on the road after snow and ice make roads impassable. The salt melts the ice above 17 degrees Fahrenheit, making roads safe to travel.
SALT BAGS: (noun) Bags of salt crystals that a person can purchase at convenience stores in order to salt their home walkways outside after ice storms and walk safely.
SALT BOX: (noun) a wooden box at the end of a residential road filled with salt at the beginning of winter, filled periodically by the town works, for the residents to salt sidewalks.
REASON FOR USE: Use of salt trucks causes ice on roads to melt making roads passable. Otherwise, snow and ice slow and stop people from leaving their houses, going to work, spending money, and generating tax money for the country to buy:
MOTHERFUCKING SALT TRUCKS.
Thank you for your time and attention, Ireland. You may now go and buy some motherfucking salt trucks.
Fundamental logic 1-0-motherfucking-1, people. |
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The new blasphemy law has taken effect as of January 1. Well, piss on the Pope! Doesn't that just suck on Jesus's tits all they way to hell. Except I'd be pissing on some creaky old fucker, so fuck that bullshit. And Jesus hasn't had a set of mantits in 2000 years. I drew a stickman yesterday and called him Muhammad, and then ate a lobster and black pudding sandwich after sunset. Suck on that.
Seriously, though, that is some fucked up bullshit. I hope to fuck the Irish realize that now they need to rebel against papist theocracy, instead of singing dead-ass rebel songs about kicking the asses of a bunch of English who haven't given a shit for nearly 100 years and actually gave you motherfuckers jobs when your little sylvan theocracy couldn't create fucking jobs. I left W-land because John AssCruft singing "Let the Eagle Soar" gave me Kristallnacht dreams. I should have trusted in the democratic process when a black man took office as a result of whitey corporate types trying to take over a nation used to real freedom. But here, some papsmear in government makes a blasphemy law and all the sheep just roll over. It's on now, motherfuckers. If these dog collar assholes raping your children for eighty years hasn't made a motherfucking point by now, nothing fucking will. |
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Look assholes. If I were a fucking pro-dom, I'd answer all of you immediately and your wallet would be open and empty as a motherfucking result. Any prick who says I'm not a real domme because I'm ignoring the FUCK out of his vomitation of grovelling in my inbox at the moment because I have something called a REAL MOTHERFUCKING LIFE, is NOT a REAL MOTHERFUCKING SUBBIE BITCH. I have a LIFE, assholes. YOU DON'T. If you want to sit by your fucking geekbox and gripe while jerking off, go the fuck ahead. But if you don't want to be BLOCKED, DO NOT I repeat DO NOT ask me why you haven't heard from me. Just keep saying nice fucking shit repeatedly because if you FUCKING ASK ME WHY I'M NOT TALKING TO YOU, YOU WILL NOT FUCKING TALK TO ME EVER AGAIN, you infantile, crippled y-chromosome. Why why why bleh bleh bleh. I got your WHY right up my fucking ass bitch, lick it out.
Any sub who loses patience after four or five letters or goes unanswered for a while, and says I am a bullshit dom as a result, will be deleted and blocked instantly. Your hardon is of no consequence to me and neither is your servitude. I am looking for long term, not short term, and any piece of shit little prick who has the xbox attention span of a purulent, pustulent, lollipop-gratified spoiled brat of a gnat, and who has a temper tantrum reminiscent of an NYC fashion-house drag-show fag because I don't immediately respond (seeing as he is the sub, I'm the dominant, therefore his hard-on must be obeyed BULLSHIT), will be sub-deleted to fucking nothingness and divided by zero.
That is all. Now imagine me kicking you in the face. Good. Fuck you, bitch. |
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All sub slaves who made the effort to wish me a happy holiday are now allotted 1 full extra preference point that will lead to eventual facetime. A minimum of 5 preference points are required. Every slave who has persevered at least 10 times in messaging good will and genuine care and interest over the last few weeks (not the quickie getting-off subs, obviously) has so far recieved 1 point, so everyone who makes the full effort is standing at 1 now. The happy Christmas wishes I currently have in the inbox count thus 10 times; such is my goodwill and generosity this season.
Wishing me a happy holiday henceforth from the time of this notice will not accomplish the full preference point but will be noted.
I am bursting with generosity this holiday season. Restraint without pain is therefore granted for 24 hours. |
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You know, it really sucks that there is no such thing as a PO Box in Ireland. I'd have a bunch of you outdoing yourselves for xmas gifts from Cathouse Clothing UK catalog, Goddess knows I want a ton of shit from there. The anonymity of a PO Box would allow me to surf through correspondence more personally and make adequate and careful selections. |
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It's too bad I can't kick the ass of a micro-organism other than with my own immune system. I have just had the worst stomach flu of my life. I haven't exploded so fucking hard since I was a six year old kid. On the night after the day I had to go to 2 xmas parties, so of course there was turkey and stuffing behind roast beef and a pint of Guinness. I was calling around this morning asking people who ate the same thing if they had bad food poisoning; they didn't. Yay, I got that awful UK vomiting bug.
No wonder this winter vomiting bug is putting old people in the hospital; I was borderline there for about 12 hours. Thank goodness I'm not a slut with AIDS. My T-cells can still build a little virus Auschwitz and gas these little bastards. I would get off on eradicating illness from the world in such a fashion, except for the fact that there's some people who deserve a night of a simultaneously exploding ass and stomach, doubled up on the floor in hell. At least it's not ruining my fucking xmas. Yeehaa, I got some shit I can be thankful for. |
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Irish women are more often than not, stupid fucking bitches intent on being Good and Right and Morally Superior To You By Any Means Necessary. Let me make this shit clear: women like most Irish women do not deserve your fucking servitude. They will just eat all your money, call you a sucker around town, go fuck someone else, take your kids away and suck a half million settlement leaving you precisely one bean. If this is precisely what you think you want, then I order you to cut me a check right fucking now and leave a sperm sample, and save yourself the bother.
Of course, I do not take kindly to passive aggression at all. I respond to passive aggression with active aggression, ie a chair in the fucking face and subsequent traction casts. So when Irish women start pulling stunts, they don't know how close they are to that phone call to the Guards being completely meaningless, given what I can do to them in that five long minutes if I am angry enough not to give a shit about the law at that particular time.
Irish women. Passive aggression. Uh huh. Clip clop clippity fucking clop, aren't you so severe in your sharp fucking heels you spud bitch. And your pin perfect suit and your pin perfect coat and your pin perfect hair. Aren't you so pin fucking perfect; now let's see when I trip you on the sidewalk and you fall direct on your face full frontal mud fucking splat. Oh shit, you're boo hooing like a toddler minus a toy. Boo hoo hoo hoo hoo. Aren't you a fucking vicktim, you didn't do anything to anyone, boo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo. That wasn't the case when you were harping on me and every single fucking implied perceived personal fault you could come up with in your dogma-addled control freak headball, with your sharp little nose fifty feet in the fucking air, you spud fucking whore.
Aren't you just better than everyone everywhere, you spuddie bitch. Yes yes oh yes, you are so morally superior to me, and you are going to heaven and I am going to hell where the sloppy hippie pagans and protestants go.
Fuck Irish women. They're hypocritical selfish cunts. The only reason there are any nice ones is because decency is an act of profound rebellion, so funny enough, it's the nice ones who are capable of thinking for themselves. It's just finding nice ones which is the big trick, and since Irish men seem overwhelmingly stupid and will do anything for a piece of ass nice or evil, they pretty much dig their own grave in that department, so I have no fucking sympathy whatsoever.
But personally, it would be like fucking a box of jello full of razor blades. Inevitably that nice jello pussy will start cutting. Feh, Irish women. I'm glad I'm not a man looking for a piece of ass round here. |
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Sigh. OK. I'm actually fairly happy given the hell I endured last week as my life is very nearly back to 100% and more up and running.
So what puts me off my fucking cornflakes when I come here to read my GrovelMail? An inbox full of CVs from subbies listing what they're 'into'. Let me make this clear: I do not give one big fat hairy solitary shit what you're 'into'. You could be 'into' riding bicycles sideways and backwards at midnight with the handlebars up your ass. You could be 'into' putting Deep Heat all over your balls and writhing in agony for the next three hours of full-on mentholated hell. You could be 'into' covering your cock in peanut butter and sticking it through fences at pitbulls owned by the local paramilitary cunts to see if the dogs give you a blowjob. And if you're Irish, those are suggestions which for the spud-sucking sheep that you are, may as well serve as genuine lifestyle advice because you naive and sexually desperate motherfuckers can't filter an original idea from a well-practised trick to an act of sheer and sublime stupidity. Except you're all sexually desperate to interpret the sexual revolution as a means to be complete scumwhore fucking duffers, you dull, clueless, desk-job suit-wearing code-vomiting man twats.
IN other words, I really, really, really don't give a fuck what you are 'into'. The REAL MOTHERFUCKING QUESTION THAT YOU SHOULD BE ASKING is what _I_ am 'into'. And then you should slap yourself in the mouth extremely fucking hard for asking something so profoundly rude to someone ANONYMOUS who you DON'T FUCKING KNOW. Because the only woman interested in what you are 'into' as a first fucking introduction, is A WORTHLESS FUCKING WHORE CHARGING YOU 300 YOYOS AN HOUR, you little piece of fucking cockshit.
How would you like it if you went to a bar and a woman introduced herself with "Hello, my name is ___ and I like to pretend I'm a bull queer top f@gg0t and fuck men up the ass with a 12 inch negro-coloured dildo, then I love to get it back in the ass afterward." Yes, your fantasy world would be satisfied, but then your retarded fucking kindergarten male definition of relationships as well as a woman's consciousnes and humanity would be easily categorized, pigeonholed, and dismissed. And guess what? Of all male instincts, that is the very one guaranteed to push me to kill far, far sooner than any other one. The same bullshit attitude that introduces what you're 'into' on your bullshit subtwat CV is the same exact pigeonholing bullshit that puts women in burkas. Congratulations, you just failed actually believing in female supremacy for treating me with profound disrespect. Fuck you.
So the answer to your fucking CV in my mailbox is this: I don't really give a fuck, and if you want to introduce yourself to me with that pile of rubbish, I will just as easily ignore the fuck out of you. And if you slap yourself for being a scumbag addressing me with your nasty, idiotic fucking stupid-ass retarded kinks right off the bat, I reserve the right to send your profile to PLONKLAND in the bin of perma-bans forever, ever, ever, ever fucking ever, asshole.
Have a good Christmas with your wives and families, and if they can't stomach your predilection for putting courgettes up your ass without rubbing off the prickles, I suggest you use a turkey legbone, break it off slamming your P-spot while trying to film it on your cheap-ass webcam in a fit of xmas Eve boredom at your mom's house, perforate your bowel and spend a far more productive time describing what you're 'into' to an ER physician who can actually do something about it.
You will give him a christmas holiday to remember.
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No. I don't do online domination. I have loads and loads of important actual real things to do in actual real reality. If I were coding visual basic 7 hours a day in Cubicle World, lived a boring life in a boring condo and drove a boring car in a boring housing estate, it would be another story entirely. But given the fact that my life is actually busy, I have never once played World of Warcraft, have no frickin clue what a 'gorean' lifestyle is, and chances are that online domination is pretty much at the bottom of that particular priority list since telling an online slave to wash my dishes means that the real dishes in my fucking sink don't get washed.
DUH.
However, in Real Life if you fancy being picked up by the hair and bitch-slapped for any backtalk, shackled to a post and whipped till sobbing, side-kicked in the shins onto your knees and instructed as to how to do something fucking RIGHT, then we can work. But wasting massive amounts of my valuable time pretending just so you can imagine and jerk off to it is probably the last luxury I would ever want to give a scummy little slave. |
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Guess what? This is hell week. I warned you. I've got a lot of shit to do. Get signage. Get plumber. get electrician. Get distributors. Get publicity. Get employees paid. Don't mewl and puke your fanboy dreck into my inbox wondering where I've gone- just send happy thoughts. And guess what? After that, it's get open, get working, get family sorted, get Xmas sorted, get myself moved, and finally get enough time together to arrange a god. damn. holiday. somewhere. sunny. before I die of rickets and bone fucking cold coldness seeping into my bones. Thank you.
Oh yeah, and the dude I fucked over in the last post was my ex landlord. Apparently when you suspect a multimillionaire asshole landlord is going to fuck you over for your deposit, and you tell him that the deposit will cover precisely the rent for the last month and ten days, he can't do shit in court unless you owe him cash beyond that. And I ripped out all the improvements I made to the property...he only answered me with a lockout AFTER I cleared the joint to the floor tiles, because he knew that if he locked me out before that, he would be answered with a ram raid to procure my own property. I spent 1300 yoyos on a lease that never got signed by that cunt because he actually only wanted to use the empty storefront as a tax writoff because the Revenue isn't re-assessing commercial properties for rental value tax write-offs. And I got in the way actually renting the place.
I'm too old to give a shit about the law anymore...I'm from a place where the cops are WAY FUCKING BIGGER AND SCARIER than those PUSSY little johnnies you call guards- they're fucking MALL COPS. No wait, scratch that, mall cops are scarier, they have stun guns. Gardai only have their ducky Irish lips barking G'WON NOW!!! to Traveller kids. Fucking lame-ass dumbshits. Completely useless. If they were once fascists in blue shirts you would have never known.
And I'm still badmouthing the ex landlord to the hilt all around town because he takes brown envelopes from the porno shop he rents to. And the porno shop was kryptonite to my business as it turns out. He can't do SHIT and I'm going to open my mouth and shitmouth him from one end of Donegal to the other. I so fucking love it. At the end of the day, he and his gimpy fucking wife will be reassessed by Revenue and get busted for something slimy, and I hope he gets a rubber fist up his ass. Wait, scratch that, from what I've heard about his sexual tastes, that would be exactly what he wants. Forget it. Ew. |
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Life is so much sweeter when you royally fuck over some stingy cunt (a male one as we refer to cunts over here in GB/IRL-only a male can be a cunt over here, women are just bitchy) than when you just fuck some pussy. I mean, the pleasure is so much sweeter fucking over someone who deserves it, and accomplishing it. It's harder to do than conquer a piece of ass. It's more of a risk as well. But when you accomplish it, especially when it's flagrant disregard of a rich motherfucking asshole bully, and it gets nearly an entire town to respect you, it's like scoring the world's most inaccessible piece of ass.
I'm doing the 'fucked over an asshole and he can't do shit' happy dance. |
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You little shitbags must think I'm a mass murderer by now. Actually the opposite is true. In order to continue a long respectable tradition of top quality customer service, in addition to taking your money in Real Life for providing it, I screech this flaming anonymous bile in typescript in order to stay fucking sane in this piece of shit backwater Atlantic splat of divine diarrhea covered by green algae and white trash.
So without further adieu:
General Message to Married Subs
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If you're married, motherfucker, the first and foremost female who should be cutting your fucking balls off and shoving them down your neck is your wife. If this shit turned you on before you walked down the aisle, and you still married a normal woman who wanted vanilla love, and your wife is going to be forced to swallow the immense humiliation of learning her husband is some kinky-ass FREAK, I hope she takes every penny of your fuckin money for maintenance. I hope she gets your pension, and takes the kids away from you and makes them hate you to the core, and you're left a drunk useless pig and you die toothless in iniquity somewhere of cirrhosis and heart disease. That'll learn ya to go outside your fucking marriage to get your rocks off, you little piece of shit.
Because that woman actually fell in love with you and said yes. She might even be willing to ignore these vomitous pathetic little kinks of yours and your habit of going outside the marriage to satisfy them. So here's the deal: if your profile says 'married', the fee is 50,000 Euro flat with signed disclaimer, I WILL beat you within literally an inch of your life and dump you at midnight in the drop in doors of the local ER, and your balls are mine.
Oh, yeah, and I forgot to mention? 99.9% of men in THIS country who list themselves as married on here and on fuck sites like Adult Friend Yoinker might as well list themselves as catholic. Because this habit of rife married fuckseeking seems to be strictly a Papsmear thing. You dogma-dicks are really some fucking pieces of work, aren't you. The only ones who don't do that kind of shit on their spouses here, apparently seem to call the rest of you 'settled people' for some reason.
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To answer the curious questions in my inbox:
Pap smear (in USA terminology) = an uncomfortable female gynecological pelvic culture taken from the cervix using a metal speculum and a large swab. Usually very uncomfortable for the patient as most speculums feel like they are stored in a freezer unit. Can also be an unpleasant affair for the administering OB/GYN in question depending on the hygiene and continence of the patient. Also the first 3 letters of the word 'Papist' meaning one who embraces the Roman Papacy.
The combination of these frames of reference are a severe degradation of a male-dominant theology and worldview which finds the adult female genitalia grotesque, frightening, taboo, filthy and/or generally unsavory. Thus it is more than understandable the leanings of this worldview toward homosexual pedophilia as well as a host of other completely illogical neuroses, (and this is why using such a term makes me feel happy).
In order for a religious adherent of dogma to manage multiple dogmatic neuroses, all morality including mere common sense must be thrown out en masse on a regular basis, replaced by destructive excess as a sort of mental holiday before the guilt and neuroses snap back into place the following morning. This is why all catholic marriages have to be taken on an 'understanding' that this moral and ethical Bipolar Disorder is simply part of the agreement for better or worse.
And this is also why I want to beat the living shit out of you spudsuckers on a regular fucking basis.
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If you think my treatment is unfair, you fail to realise that I save my most fetid and radioactive bile for born-again xtians in the American south and midwest, and this also includes their knuckle dragging forebears blithering in tongues and goose-stepping in East Belfast. Calvinist shitbags need to run faster from me than a guilt-sucking motherfucking pap smear. And imams need to run the fucking fastest. I should have been in the Marines. The Goddess will prevail!!!! |
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Just to mention, I very rarely do chat requests unless I've seen you in my inbox multiple times and haven't blocked your ass. |
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This low blood sugar moment has been brought to you by Begrudgery, Incorporated, an Irish specialty industry. This will find a solution through 1) getting laid, 2) going on holiday, and 3) ripping the arsehole out of the next punter who tries to rain on my fucking parade. If a squirmy little sub can provide respite from those more pressing needs, then perhaps I might relent but then perhaps not.
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Oh, by the way, did I mention this is Papsmear Land of no fucking roe v. wade? Besides the rain rain rainy rainy fucking drippy ass cuntry you baa-baaing drunk-ass sheep inhabit, of course. Where blobs of scummy shit fall from roofs onto my head, scummy shit is growing up the walls, scummy shit turns tarmac into an ice rink, and the pubs are full of scummy shit, and the estates are full of scummy shit, and everywhere you go are big spotty lazy-ass slugs either crawling up the walls or on the dole. Yeah, and I very nearly have rickets now from vitamin d withdrawal thank you very much. I hope the rest of Galway drowns. What do Calvinists and Catholics have in common? They both start with the same letters as CAP IN YOUR ASS, as in _popping a_. Since this nation and Seattle have similar rainfall (except this place is DARKER in winter) then I can understand why it's the depression capital of the US and Kurt Cobain popped a cap in his own miserable fucking ass.
And having to keep a respectable reputation in this shittee hamlet of Papsmear Land, means I haven't gotten laid in a year because small towns have squinting windows. At least in Dublin nobody gave a shit. Maybe if I stick to dating TVs the whole place will write me off as a hateful hopeless ballbusting cuntlicker, and I can fuck all the cock I want under that disguise. |
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Holy crap, forget fucking any of you guys, all I have to do for you little piss pigs to feel sexually satisfied is simply to acknowledge any given one of you attention whores. I thought spuds were bad for fucking a woman and running off before she chains you to her pregnant ass here in PAPSMEAR LAND of NO FUCKING ROE V. WADE. But no...just play hard to get, and me acknowledging you is an admission of defeat on my part. You might as well have fucked me after some piss drunk fumble and then run off to your wife. To spuds, even accomplishing ACKNOWLEDGMENT is grand prize in a competition of will trying to defeat and outsmart women in this fucked up country. And why are women here so wily and rotten and shallow and property grubbing???? I'll tell you. BECAUSE THIS IS PAPSMEAR LAND OF NO FUCKING ROE V WADE. See, my own cultural solution is to burn my fucking bra and spit on the sidewalk in front of dog collars, and pump my red fist of rage, but women here play low and nasty and take all your shit after she takes your breeding DNA and eventually gets bored with your "GET ME MY TAY WOMAN" and chucks your lame ass out to go live in Spain and fuck gigolos while you're left with no savings and kids who fuckin hate you because people here play sides evil enough to make a kid hate their own other parent. Dudes, let me make this clear: that is FUCKED UP SHIT but that's what you get in PAPSMEAR LAND of NO FUCKING ROE V.WADE, and will forever and ever and ever and motherfucking ever until your dumbass government stops mewling and puking about blastulas and gives a woman the right to say what goes on with her own fucking body.
That is all today, assholes. |
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Holy shit I'm actually feeling good today. Three days of sales paid the distributors and made payroll. I'm feeling good enough to actually reply to a few repeat piss pigs who are putting up the effort to ask me how my day was, and blah blah blah. So I'll add the condition that you can hope for a reply to your repeat emails if 1) you keep doing it and I notice you and 2) you catch me on a good day like today.
One thing about the events this week is, that I fucking laugh at in Ireland, is the romantic efforts of people who think that a shared condition is grounds for trying to court someone romantically. Like for example. I'm a large-ish woman, therefore the only men who approach me openly are obese men who think they 'understand',...HEH!, and usually have personal hygiene issues in conjunction with obesity, or worse, alcoholic old farts who make the rotten mistake of assuming that I'll settle for them because I can't do any better for being a fatass. The silliest fact is, through my experiences going to those horrible C&I céilis at Biddy Friels starring narcissistic and mediocre country artists in matching western wear, and learning to 'jive' FUCKING GODDESS HELP ME, (I did it because my best friend begged me to), I have learned that the uglier the single male asswipe is, the more likely he is to think I'm a failure of a catch. I swear to Goddess, if he is some wellied sullen red-faced ultra-fat culchie with an underbite and wet dog german B.O. suggesting a black-n-tan back in the skeleton closet, he will ignore me pointedly and yoink my sleek Marilyn Monroe-figured friend out onto the dance floor. The uglier the dog is, the uglier he thinks I am. I hope to FUCK I end up with some doe-eyed Valentino looking purring boyotoy with a 144 IQ and a love for extremely smart somewhat figure-challenged 46G-cup fetish femmes. Maybe I come off like a disapproving matron at these dumbass pseudo-redneck dances which is funny because I hail from the land of the inception of Redneck Ceol.
If I were some shrieking papist desperately looking for a man to provide for me, one of these losers would have already been yoinked. But I am a prod-raised virulent atheist and shameless pagan with a love for excellent personal habits and enough of my own damn resources to demand a male has some palatable personal traits.
Goddammit. |
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I am going to shave the mailbox soon. But not this week. I'm gearing up for hell week. But I actually have a few replies from little pieces of piss that I might actually like and will reply to when I acquire the time. Some laugh-inducing ones too like the asshole who keeps asking me to do him the kind of damage that some motherfucker could sue me for. No fucking way, shitbag, I like my money a lot more than I like you, and since I mentioned being self-sufficient, I know in Ireland it's a resource ploy. You spudsuckers are all after money I can smell it on you, you simpering nose-grubbing dicks, kissing my ass in front of me and then shitmouthing me in your local like I'm some sort of feminazi, and women are rotten, using their pussies to hold guys hostage then dumping them when they suck them dry, and vice versa. There's no fucking love in this nation, don't kid me. And this guy actually wants me to amputate his ball and eat it as some sort of damn prairie oyster, how fucked up is that, I'm sorry, the worst I get is pissing down the throat of some trannie. Oh yeah, like he wouldn't sue me for that. HA. Next. Holy crap, Irish are so glaringly greedy and they cover it up half-assed with lip service to morality like a lame cat that can't cover its shit in the litter box, it makes me want to puke.
Oh and there's the guy who told me I had issues, and then asked me for a session and insisted on tribute, tribute, tribute. LMFAOOOO!!!!!!! Oh right, insult me and then ask for a session. When the tribute consists of a seaside manor home with 25 bedrooms, jacuzzi arboretum and my own sushi chef, then we'll talk. |
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There's this guy in Galway who has an internationally acclaimed trad music shop on a back street, and recently of late has been repeatedly tormented by alley pissers. You know them, little drunk pieces of shit who can't get drunk the right way. Little Irish bastards who say that as long as they down fifteen pints of beer, it's not technically alcohol, whereas if they sat their asses down with a bottle of whiskey, they would be actual drunks. So they stagger down the street after blowing 100 yoyos on PISS, and proceed to PISS on your business.
Well I love this guy. What he did was wire the front door brickwork close to the sidewalk so that anyone who pissed right in his front door got a firm electric shock straight up his dick while pissing, and he set up a CCTV camera to record the results. Which, of course, had results the first night. It would have me nearly pissing my pants with laughter let alone in his alleyway. I fucking love this guy. I wish other people would take this example to heart; a little genuine honest sadism goes a long way to keep shittee little drunk inbred white motherfuckers in line.
It would have been funny as hell because if this guy were in Dublin it would be vomit as well as piss, in which case the vomitor would have a nasty surprise indeed as his eyeballs as opposed to his dick would be zonked out popeyed like a circus freak and probably jump back mid-heave and splatter his friends, and they would all vomit on each other and be forced to walk back home drunk and covered in vomit to hose off in 40 degree weather.
That'll learn ya. In any case, don't whizz on the electric fence, motherfucker.
I swear, I think of more awful things to do to youthful male shitbags than even the USMC can come up with. It probably has to do with growing up hearing redneck cowards barking abuse from their pickup trucks, calling a shy 15-year-old virgin a fat fucking whore while tearing by at 40 miles an hour. If I knew then what I know now what a little moxy and sheer neck could get me, I could have done some awful (and AWESOME) shit to some McRednecks a long time before heading for college well above the Manson-Nixon line.
Nowadays, I'm stuck with McBillys and McTadhgs up here among the Proto-Rednecks, also known as Ulster Man. Some of them are even lower on the evolutionary ladder. Well, no surprise there, they beat the shit out of each other for 30 years over whose god had the bigger dick. I'd love to learn 'em about what it means when a goddess has a bigger, thicker, longer dick than both of them AND satan combined.
I'll reserve this space for a Rebel Yell...but this time, I'm the one yelling as I pull up the strapon harness and the Mcs are prostrate on the floor asses in the air, one blindfolded with his orange sash, the other with his motherfucking tricolour, and both of them about to be ass raped by a Goddess who most definitely doesn't give a fuck about how much my King Dong dildo tears the sphincters of their drunk worthless piece of shit asses.
Afterward, I'll have even more fun: make them suck each others dicks. Damn, that would be a sight. I wonder how many times I'd have to kick Billy in the face with my bootheel before I got him to suck a catholic dick. I wouldn't envy him. All the smegma from a lifetime of sexual repression and guilt routed into alcoholism would be pretty nasty. But at least it would bring back Tadhg's pleasant boyhood memories of the local priest!
LMFAO!!!!! Ahh, well, at least it's all fantasy. But damn, my fantasies are fucking tasty. |
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This is 90% of sub emails: "Bleh bleh bleh, I I I, me me me, new to scene, my fetish is, my kinks are, would you like to, yadda fucking yadda" and nothing that actually reflects a genuine interest in me. Subs like this only attract pro-dommes. Why? Only pro-dommes provide the service to them. Why? Because when your definition of servitude and punishment is a staged fetish fantasy that consists of "I I I, me me me" for the sake of making your pee-pee squirt when you rubs it, YOU DON'T DESERVE SHIT ASSHOLE! Which is why you give up the cash for some pvc-wrapped college girl to remember that her Ph.D was paid for with her bootheels up the asses of 40 year old married lawyers who licked them afterward. Do it for $400 an hour, it's done, she leaves cracking her gum and sneering at you and generally not giving a shit whether you live or die.
Which, by the way, you deserve. The other few genuine slaves here are very rare and quite delectable in comparison.
Just saying. |
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I want a hard session pretty soon- as soon as my life slows back down this winter. Please no newbies, I want a serious lifestyler ready to be a gimp and well versed, owns his own hood and cuffs and clamps and other gear, and can handle a paddling with a bread board and knotted flogger. I want pain threshold 5 and above on 10 scale. I have 15 years of being fucked over by Y chromosomes to take out on a gimpy pissant. I know all these sweet guys here are idealising a perfect love domme but I'll be ready for that as soon as I get this shit out of the way.
You know, it's like I'm a GI or a just-out jailbird too horny to rape the fuck out of the respectable girlfriend who I actually love, so I go to some piece of trash ignorant whore to slam up the ass, then while she tongues my dick she's still stupid enough to think I might fall in love with her. Then I leave the stupid bitch crying like she does with all the men before. I want that kind of slave manwhore who does the same fucking thing hoping the domme will like him, and failing, because he's just as boring as a trash whore, and it's so long, sucker when I'm done beating his ass. That way I can go have a relationship with someone nice and spank him nicely. I just think I'd be too fucking hard on these clueless idealistic newbies. |
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Why is it, whenever I pass a drunk scumbag who's loud and insulting, I have this persistent fantasy of yanking out a pair of handcuffs, attaching him to a walkway rail and paddling his ass so hard with the wide end of a hurley bat that the little fucker vomits on himself?
I just remember why I've never acted on it. I moved out of Dublin. If I hadn't I know I would have cracked at some point; it was just a matter of time. So up here when some visiting dick is like, hiwya hiwya ya fa' fooooooooooooookin slappor, I'm all like, keep talking...
just keep.
fucking.
talking.
Seriously, if some little sub signs a consent agreement and then turns around and says that kind of scumbag hoodie shit to me, I will be pleased beyond a doubt because I can then beat the shit out of some dick consensually and it will feel great. Warning, however; the consent will include no safewords. Nothing will be broken but I will be following the hard leather knotted flogger with alcohol gel, you know, the stuff that won't stop stinging real fucking hard for three or four minutes, then candle wax, then all over again.
You know, it's a real fucking shame that travellers aren't a femdom culture instead of a male-dom culture. Instead of trying to tastefully hold myself back in the name of diversity from taking the head off some no-neck prick who slaps the face off and commands his slithering whining superstitious novena-spouting wife like he was Conan the Motherfucker, I could be on the back of a big-ass piebald draft horse telling the cowering little dick that HE was responsible for original sin, and by the way, you BETTER have dinner ready when I get in.
Nah, then I'd be bored as shit being made to do all the fucking work.
LMAO!!! |
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No. Novices. They chicken out and waste the hell out of my time. "I'm new to the scene, I want to explore my wild side", blahdy fucking blah. No way. GTFO.
Plus, I am doing the most stressful thing in the world just now: moving both home and business. I just decided to shove a no-money dildo in my greedy-ass landlord's mouth, strap it in with his own refusal to sign a lease THANK GODDESS, and make him choke on a 10 inch big black cock called zero income as punishment for being a complete dick in the middle of a recession and refusing to come down on rent. Eat this motherfucking vacancy, asshole, enjoy renting to NOBODY. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!
Meanwhile, every landlord in this country is pretending to have bargaining chips when they in fact have NONE and STILL have to pay sky high motherfucking mortgages on variable interest rates (BWAHAHAHA! Who the hell would let a BANK determine your interest rate whenever they saw fit? Us dumb fucking Yanks still know when to tell a bank to go fuck itself) on properties they bought at three times the value LMAOOOOOO. Holy praties batman, the spuds this nation produces have more brains when it comes to real estate. Remind me to ask for real estate advice from a bag of chips next time and not an estate agent. So these stupid ass landlords think they can fleece you for twice their overinflated mortgage when in fact, they should be presenting a slave ass for dildo rapage and begging for half their mortgage value.
A smart Irish landlord will do the following in these rough times:
1) Stop pretending you're an English landlord in 1900 just because your superiorure Gay Lick Irish ass owns a piece of fucking investment property. Whoopee fucking do, you're not better than me, the English are 100 years past that bullshit, that shit is old, get a fucking life. Oh by the way, you're paying property taxes on that motherfucker now to pay for NAMA...LMAO!
2) Drop your pants, turn around, take both hands to either side of your arsehole and spread, with a generous offer of half the rent you were asking.
3) Take pride in your role in the recovery of the economy through such a generous act- the jobs and income you're generating in your town will keep you getting great rent a few years from now when the others who stood firm have long gone bankrupt and now have NOTHING.
Now, anyhow, my slave recruitment for a fulfilling relationship will be a slow process. I am extremely busy with my legitimate business, because to be perfectly honest, I may have more than enough responses in this mailbox to try for a repeat pro-domme career, but actually doing that would so destroy my hope for humanity that I'd probably hole up like Dr Evil with 19 cats and a parakeet and a 15 speed titanium dick.
Have a nice day.
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It sucks that my fantasies can never be actual reality. Yesterday some guy at Derry bus terminal spat at my feet and said 'slapper'. I was wearing a full length black overcoat and conservative office clothing. What the hell? My response: a pause and keep going.
In my fantasy, I add hidden thigh-highs, and I turn around and face him, and ask him, "What did you call me?". He says, "You heard what I said." At which point, a Derry scumbag has a stiletto bootheel suddenly impale his left nostril and soft palate, and he is eating steel waiting for the EMTs to arrive while I walk off and leave him to do the explaining.
What sucks is, even if some silly-ass slaveboy begs for me to do that to him, I wouldn't. It just feels goddamn stupid to do shit to people who don't deserve it. Which is why I always secretly wish my cockwhippings were nonconsensual and inflicted on some asshole wifebeater whose male ego I could rip apart conquest by conquest. But doesn't every true domme wish for that? Sigh. I will settle for the willing.
But like an out-of-the-coffin vampire who settles for willing humans and bottles of TrueBlood, secretly I wish for vice-ridden and licentious fools to feast upon. Alas, it is left only to fantasy. |
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All right, regarding real-life meets:
1) I will not go up to you and kick your ass. I am a real person. Sit down and relax. Order a coffee and if I'm late, wait for me, I live in REAL LIFE, ok? I will act like a real person. However, it must be said that if you blow the joint, and pretend not to be who you are upon seeing me because I am a size 24 and look normal, you had better leave really damn quick because I actually *will* kick your ass. No, seriously, I will. Run.
2) Sit your ass down and order your coffee. I will get there. If I can't, I'll call the place and let them know. But give me 20-30 minutes leeway.
3) If you're the sort of never-done-it-but-curious asshole who will get cold feet and scarper on the coffee meet, I suggest you scarper fucking fast. Because I have but one Unforgivable Sin: WASTING MY FUCKING TIME. Scarpering means that you have no consideration for my human ability to be civilised and understanding. That means that your fantasy world is a pile of shit and that real people can't inhabit it. So if we make arrangements, I suggest you not fucking scarper.
Are we clear? Good. |
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Gentlemen, I will answer shortly. Since I have lots of Real Life obligations and a need to go out and party a little this weekend, I am postponing all my mailbox answers till next week when I have time to reply to each one.
Meanwhile, stay kinky. |
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I love Halloween. It's the time of year I can dress head to toe in PVC gear and go to a punk show and nobody looks twice. Last year I was adopted by the local cadre of 1800s steampunk fans with a top hat fetish. There's nothing like getting drunk in public in conservative rural Ireland while wearing fetish gear. Goddess bless Samhain.
Last night I went to a big social/céili for the national language society dressed in one of my vampire bodices in purple velvet and black lace trim, a taffeta gold vest, white chemise and floor length purple skirt with black ballet shoes. The members of the local drama company kept looking at me and eventually asked if I was a theatre producer. I must have a magnet in my bum for theatre types. Well, yeah. I guess the whole d/s thing is pretty theatrical. I can't put on 'class wench' and expect to disappear into the woodwork. It gave me a good chance to practice my 'cupla fócal' as dire as it is... |
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I found a wonderful UK-based clothing online shop called Cathouse Clothing, and they have a floor length PVC skirt I'd adore having.
I got rid of my dungeon back in 1996 when I fell in love with someone who was definitely not into this...and still rejected me for it...how pathetic is that?
It took me a further 12 years to learn that making myself emotionally prostrate to any man spells disaster to my independence and inner fire, no matter how much I delude myself into thinking that LUUV will save me, it only does for a short while and then he gets ugly, or restless...the murky depths of time, and the chance to learn how to be truly shameless in my nature, has made me hunger to own a lovely selection of toys and equipment once again. Not for anyone other than myself...not any pigslave, not any male, nobody but me and my pleasant sadistic side.
I'm a bit bitchy. But I'm lovably bitchy and a good woman to obey. |
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| Age: 33 |
| NYC,
New York |
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