resolution

Shoes!

I have spoke about my shoe fetish earlier.
To sum it up, it's all about female self conciousness and elegance, that isn't attached to male's attention, in contrary it ignores it a little bit.
For some years now there is some new style of womans shaes around: Tom's!

These are an expression of the modern female self-respect and comfort with herself. She feels cute, without ever wasting a thought to possible male attention.
These shoes are soft and nestle along the shape of her wearer's feet and yet there is a grain of deformity, real casual carelessness. The cloth covers the instep, protects it, hides it from hungry eyes.
Even the setting of the photo shows us, lace in the background,  that we are still in the girl's realm.

So seeing a pair of female feet wearing them, makes me feel completely useless, worthless. And a strong urge for the noose, to atone for my being wrong, for impuryfing the cosmos with my existence.

I would love the hangwoman to wear those when slipping the stool from under my feet. I would buy them for her as a present. Slipping them on her feet befor the execution.....

How about that?

I just have to...

Try honesty!

To resume it: I feel inferior and I am delivered by my sexuality. That's why I have to strangle to death in the noose. But this still isn't the whole truth! I am still trying to go on in hiding what has to be revealed. It's that I still fear your contempt. But I won't neglect your right to know who you are dealing with any further:
So how did I get it? When has my sentence been passed?
I do quite well know how. And I therefore should better express it.

Of course all of this is to find in the development of my personality. And it starts at the very beginning of every born individual. In my case, there was the umbilical cord wrapped around my neck.
And all my later life was not essentially different from its start. The umbilical cord remains wrapped around my neck tight, only that it's of emotional fabric now. I am attached by my mother's appendix to the world of her thinking, I have been nurtured with it and I still feed from it, I am a bubble floating inside her mind.

My mother is a woman, who always put her personal wishes and feelings after the necessities of real life. A life which is hard and without relief. And leisure always being the first step to demise.
In that sense she raised me. And she had quite an effort with me!
As i was a bad boy! I did things wrong all the time, I broke things along with her feelings. That's why she had to punish me as a matter of routine.

But there was more than just that!
I was a very egoistic child! And always tried to impose my will on her, even by using arguments to trick her into something different than her original intention. But she knew quite well there was no need for her to resort to such measures like arguing. There was a quite more effective way to prove me wrong:
She unveiled my dependence on her. She let me feel just how much I was at the mercy of her will, let me, exempt from her provision, struggle a bit, let me fail, all along with my point of view. And she probably wouldn't deny having received some joy from the scene: me creeping back to her, apologizing and submitting myself to her superior will, pleading “Please mother, excuse me for having been bad. I will never do it again!”, as soon as she wished to hear such a statement from my mouth.
Of course I had to repeat that very often!

Moreover, I permanently failed to acknowledge how much I occupied her. My weak efforts to disburden her only kept her even more busy, because I just never did it right. How much easier would it have been for her to just abandon me, to leave me behind, to my fate, or even fulfilling it by herself, terminating my pitying existence. But out of her inexhaustible generosity she kept on nourishing me. Despite the fact that I didn't deserve anything from her.
But it doesn't even end at that point!

Not only that I have been a miserable child and still am. I also threatened to become just like my father, and be rude and abusive towards woman. My father had detached mentally from his family and all related duties early. And she would never allow me to become like he is.
So she eagerly worked on suppressing any expression of manhood, taught me to see it as something disgraceful, something I had to avoid actively by myself and submit to females' categories.
Naturally I only failed once more, since I am male in the end.

And I could quite well feel my mothers silent disappointment with me, over my failed existence. That she would have been right in terminating my pitiful life for good. That this was in her responsibility, as the one who gave birth to me, putting me to death again as well. Even I accepted my fate, waited for the day, when she might finally come for me, placing me under a solid beam and stringing me up from it. Relieving me from my life in her unmeasurable generosity.
As much as she wanted it to be this way, and furthermore, as my mother, had any natural right to do so, this is still a patriarchal world we live in, and male controlled courts deny maternal law... She couldn't but let go on my miserable existence.

And here I am and moan: “Oh mother! Why didn't you string me up when there still was a time and place to carry it out? Why did you hesitate? Don't you really love me, still not having hanged me? Why did you let me wander this unwelcoming earth instead of relieving me from the pain of living?”

A Confession

I wrote on earlier occasions about how I am doing it. But i have been omitting to express why i am doing it.
That is why before being forced to go off from the grip of the tight noose i am going to write down the following confession:

It is that I am an inferior being and my life is of no particular quality or worth. That's why I am constantly avoiding getting near people, to not interfere with their procurements. And that's why I willingly submit to their will in case there is no way sparing them from busying themselves with my presence.
And that's how I could lead a devoted and humble life.
If I only wasn't male.

Since I am, I am haunted by sexual arousal when seeing beautiful women. As much as this is a desirable quality of real men, one suggested to be expressed openly, it is just as much inappropriate for a repulsive creature like the one I actually am.
Naturally the sexual urge is much more powerful as my weak personality, trying to keep the former down.
This is how I am loading up guilt on me. Because I cannot avoid the sexual tone of my stare, even when it is caught caught by the female's look.

But I want to be a good boy! Not that slithery wretch stalking the paths left behind from women annoyed with his proximity.
To pure myself from those bad desires, they are to be distorted in a way so that in the end they reflect content and ideas towards women that are suitable for creatures like me.

Evidently such images may never be those of penetration! Or sexual intercourse of any kind!
It has to be a exemplary way a woman might engage herself in me!
It cannot be other than that of correction!

So which correctional means are applicable in such a case?
First it has to comply to the intention of the measure. And that is of course ultimately ending any further obstruction.
As my offence originates in my sex, in me being male, there is no way in addressing my reason. A purely physical disposition can only be treated by physical means. Swift, there is no other way than physically extinction of my manhood, and that means, terminating my existence.
Moreover it is preferable for a such correctional measure to be carried out in a way that reveals its background, the reason it is applied for. (A fact earlier times jurisdiction was still aware of.)
And what other means of execution would be more suitable under above described circumstances than hanging by the neck? The helpless struggling from the end of a noose displaying at once the physical origin, as well as the reason (that is immeasurable superiority of the desired female over the inferior male).
The commonly observed death erection additionally underlining the sexual nature of the offence.

It has become time now to finally act...

About things that changed...

I said, I feel dried out, and that is still true.
Nonetheless, there is still something left to say:
From the beginning on, the age when i started to be aware of my sexuality, it had that deviant turn. My fantasies always revolved around asphyxiation, especially hanging.
But originally it was me to do the hanging or at least i imagined female victimes. In my fantasies i strung up all of those special girls, i just cannot tell what made them accurate in my point of view. But it were definitely some strange kind of girls...
It's only later on, around the age of fifteen things changed. And I remember quite well what was the cause: One of my highschool-teachers. She was somehow cold and strict. And she also dressed that way. So i started to fantasize about being her slave. Kneeling in front of her, licking her shoes, licking her between her legs, being beaten up by her, and so forth...
And finally being strung up by her...
So what was the difference between her and all the other girls? It was that she was untouchable! I would never get her, not only because i was toob timid, but because it just wasn't possible! And the distance between her and me was uncountable times larger, than to all the girls. And that made my desire for her just the more unjust and crying out for punishment, so a capital one seemed just to be what was necessary for me.
Further on I spread this kind of fantasy to many other woman around me, who were distinctly older than me. And that is my desire until now!
Nevertheless I also kept to be the violator in my dreams. But that part diminished with the time passing by. I only cant remember at what age this actually faded out.
I can enjoy the image of a woman hanging today. But this just isn't my thing anymore...

Long time no see...

I have dried out somehow...
I stroll around all the asphyx related places online... but without real excitemnet... even the collecting offers no fun anymore.
Why is this so?
Because I am grown up now, settling down mentally somehow ? Is this the answer?
I know for my self, this is bullshit.
So is it because of the drug missing?
It definitely plays its role.
But it's not the source... the source lies within myself.
I would like to write down some scenarios again. But when i do i feel like everthing has been said already. I want to plunge into the depths of self inflicted asphyxiational arousal, but then i finally just dont.
Earlier this year a similar statement I posted turned out to be the kickoff for new activity. What will it be like this time?

What you quite probably dont want to know...

What I've told no one so far...

All happened near Villefranche de Conflet. It was late summer and really hot. I was twenty-one back then. And I was travelling alone.
And so I was wandering up the Pyrenées feet through all this sort of mediterranian vegetation, dried out, perfume of oily leaves in my nose.
I saw or heard absolutely nobody around and therefore considered myself to be totally alone up there.
I came to a tree.
It was small and crooked. Gnarled like a dried up wiper!
I sat down beneath it, covering in its shadow, contemplating.
Fixed to one main branch stretched out horicontally above my head.
And i made a decision.
First I got undressed.
I looked for a bold stone, but one i could still move. I dragged it under the tree.
I sat down again, eagerly starting to fabricate a nice slender noose out of belt an shoe-laces.
I took my time, as if i would need no more of it, i was totally in the present, i merged to the one act i was preparing for.
I stepped on the stone.
A rather unstable position!
I slung the belt around my bare neck, pulled it tight.
I went on my toes, balancing, fixing the loose end on the branch.
Strung myself up good!
I only had to step off of the stone to dangle helplessly.
I needed one hand to keep up, to not lower myself into the noose.
Somehow i had become ready. I felt the need for me ending from the noose. I felt the final purity of things to happen. A sensation of righteousness!
Then I began to wank myself off with the help of the hand left free.

I could have ended things back then, as i should have. I could have died in purity!
But I didnt.
After having ejaculated, i calmed down again, tied myself loose.
I untied the ligature. Put my cloths back on, sat there, contemplating.
Only some ten, perhaps fifteen minutes later, a group of hikers passed by my place. We greeted each other, the shiver gurgling down my spine. They could have been the ones to find me lifelessly swinging from the branch, or even witness the last shivering of my strangled to death body.
But this is not the point!
The point is, that this has been one of this strange moments in my past, when i chose life. Even if it was more by accident.
That's why I'm now still sitting in front of the screen typing.
It would have been no mistake to hang myself.
It would have been right!
Neither is it wrong for me to still live.
It's just different!
I think this was the last time, i succeeded in convincing myself to really hang to death. I believed me. That it would be possible to go straight down the path, right into the end.
Living on is sheer compromise. I lost my purity.
I have grown older now. Being no more than only one of these millions of anonymous deviants stalking online, seeking the kick, seeking the game, the illusion!







Just fed up westerners problems....

Why I am put on by the sight of female feet in ballerina mary janes...

As it just happened: I see a girl wearing yellow Lacoste Antibes.
I state the growing sexual arousal, the need for me licking the soft leather covering her restless toes.
That's when i realize i must not do this under any circumstance, she would never tolerate that.
And that i should better be punished mercilessly for my wanting to.
I know the sling being the only answer. Nevertheless I hesitate.
Sedating myself with the drug and scribblings like the present one.

But why is it only mary janes are pushing my desires? Why not any other type of shoe, why them?
A mere rhetorical question....
Because i know it already, i can feel it , since i can read it from their shape, from its impact on my flesh! So first of all: this style combines athletic attitude with superior female elegance. One might say that beeing the one essence of ballerina type shoes/slippers.

Mary Janes now are thought to originally be girls shoes. How to explain that? Anyway they convey some sort of decent elegance, contrasting with the oppulence of some lets say highheel pumps. It's the nearly incidental expression of femininity, It's not focused on it, it's casual (behold that word!).
As if it never came to minds of women wearing them, that a deviant one like me could be aroused by viewing them. And of course they're well aware of that only pretending not to be. And now that's the essence of modern mary janes's shape.

But lets delve somewhat deeper into the meaning of mary janes slippers. In ballerina style ones, the only thing that distinguishes them from plain ballerinas is that one strap running from one side to the other, and by that crossing the alignment of protuberant female sinews. It's like to appease the energy flowing along female feet. The more, in most cases the strap is flexible - technically to ease putting on, but in reality - to abut on female's feet forms, to conform to their aspiration, snuggling to their orientation, while symbolically (and only symbolically) trying to hold it down; as a mere allusion.

It's because the shape of the ballerina mary jane underlines female self-determination, which by the way prohibits my inferior wanting. Even by humbly licking her ballerina covered feet clean, i shall never attain her liking nor only her attentiveness.

Voilà the inner logic of my shoe-fetishism!
Now is that an answer???

Ein Anblick, der sich in meine Erinnerung eingefressen hat

Eine Dame der Oberschicht in einem Theatercafe:
Sie hat kurze graue Haare, die temperamentvoll frisiert sind.
Ihre Haut ist sorgsvältig gepflegt.
Die Krähenfüßchen zieselieren Muster um ihre Augenpartien, wie kunstvolle Verzierungen.
Ihr schwarzes dünnes, jedoch in eine steife Form gebrachtes Oberteil unterstreicht ihr Reife und Eleganz.

Und dann ist ihr Rock so knapp!
Dass einem der Blick entlang ihrer Beine hinabgleitet, über die sie weit offen stehende Netzstrümpfe gezogen hat.
Und ihre Füße stecken in weichen schwarzen Ballerinas.
Vom Unterleib aus abwärts strahlt sie ein so junggebliebenes Verlangen!
Als wäre sie zwazig, bestenfalls 25.

Nun, was ich mich ständig fragen muss: was von beidem sich nur in ihrer Leibmitte durchsetzen wird?
An jener Stelle, an dem die stoische Reife auf die frisch gebliebene Antriebskraft stößt...
Was sie wohl privat so mit ihrem Ehemann treibt, der so weich und gefügig wirkt?

Und unwillentlich muss ich davon tagträumen, dass eine destruktive Verformung ihrer Lustgewinnung in Gang kommt!
Ach ihr schalen Träume, ihr!


entbehrliche Randnotiz:
Vergangene Woche habe ich das Gewicht meines Körpers zweimal der Schlinge übergeben.
Das ist etwas viel...
Aber schon gut so!

Anhaltendes Schweigen

Es ist viel Zeit vergangen.
Während der du nicht gepostet hast.
Warst du in dieser Zeit denn abstinent?

War ich die vergangene Zeit abstinent?

Ja und Nein...
Es war wie der Schlaf, der vieles zudeckt.
Ich war nicht aktiv! Teils, weil ich nicht die Energie aufgebracht habe, etwas zu produzieren.
Aber es hat sich in meinem Kopf fortgesetzt.
Auf Sparflamme sozusagen.
Ich will dieses Blog aber auch nicht auslaufen lassen.

Im wirklichen Leben bedarf es auch nicht notwendigerweiße nur der Schlinge.
Es gibt auch subtilere Empfingungen.

Es reicht zum Beispiel auch schon,
wenn sie mich in ihrer Hand hat.
Und sie dabei nichts als zärtlich ist.
Das allein ist oft schon sehr überwältigend.
Es muss gar nichts Gewalttätiges sein.
Aber es kann auch sein...
Das ist gut so...

Die üblichen Tagträume, gefolgt von Selbstmitleid

Sie sind überall!
Und wie immer sind sie echt!
Nicht nur zweidimensionale Abbilder, die über den Screen flimmern.
Es sind athletische junge Frauen, mit flachen Ballerinas und schnittigen Frisuren, es sind stilvoll gekleidete Damen.
Heute: Eine Asiatin, so um die 45, elegant, Bluse und knielanger Rock, hohe Schuhe und glatte Beine. Wie wäre das, wenn die dir einst den Schemel unter den Füßen wegträte.
Nur die interessiert das doch nicht.
Keine interessiert das...; nie!
Es ekelt sie an.
Und froh wären sie, wenn sie wüssten, dass du es still und heimlich in deinem Kämmerchen machst und sie mit deinen zudringlichen Hoffnungen verschonst. So aber bist du für nichts anderes als einer der vielen unguten Glotzer von der Straße.
Keine, die dir verpassen will, was du verdient hast.
Keine, die die Salutation deines Glied entgegennehmen wollte.
Abgehen sollst du; alleine und einsam. Das ist schon richtig so.
Das passt zu dir!

Next ejaculation will already be incited by violance.

Autoerotic strangulation will follow these steps:

1) Preparing mentally.
2) Preperation of utilities.
3) Getting off all clothes except the pair of white gymnastic slippers.
4) Driving a red candle up your anus.
5) Attaching a broom stick with your office chair of which you can adjust the seat height.
6) Start a slideshow showing onpassing mistresses.
7) You Put a cushion on the font half of the seat to intensify the friction for your weener.
8) Sit down (the erected broomstick up your spine, its tail topping the level of your head).
9) Wind a satin-scarf around your neck (for skin protection).
10) Loop a cord around your neck.
11) Tie the ends of the cord in your neck.
12) Attach the ends of the cord, so it is thight, just when you reach the highest level possible with your body.
13) Tie up your hands in your back.
14) Use the height adjustement mechanism to lower the seat height and strangle by the neck
15) Increase strangulation by continued decrease of your seat height, untill
a) Your throat constrains to protrude only whisteling breath,
b) Your breath is cut off completly.
18) Wait for the arrival of orgasm while fidgeting your belly against the cushion
19) Cum helplessly
20) Decide to either safe or to bring to an end your miserable existence.

This is what I consider a rather intense strangulation setting. It would be perfect if my feet could also be tied up. Too perfect probabaly..
Nevertheless i shall only exit by hanging in the noose.

An abandoned version to do it (German only)