Know Thyself

“Know Thyself.” Those words inscribed on the temple of the oracle of Apollo at Delphi, have been the guiding influence of my life.

As I sat across him moving the cleft of my vagina along the length of his shaft, yet denying him entrance to me, the fruits of knowing my self seemed to have reached their zenith.

I slide along his shaft letting him have a foretaste of the warm moist softness that waited for him within. I moved away from his penis, sliding up his belly leaving a trail of my female fluids; then on to his chest. Here I rubbed my sex organ over him making sure to wet his nipples, then upward to crush my vagina down on to his face. He would smell my female aroma and taste my vaginal juices.

I returned to sliding my organ along his penis, soaking it with my lubricant as he lay groaning and writhing, craving to enter me. I was insane for his penetration myself, but ours was a battle of wills.

He would plead with me before I granted him admission and then I would finally have him completely in my power. Once admitted into my female mystery he would be finally and forever mine. I would have broken him and possessed him, so sure was I that he would never be gratified by another woman.

Yet once I had possessed him, he would have all that I as a woman had to offer, indeed, as he would discover, more than most women had to offer.

He could not hold out much longer his groans and cries indicated he was near breaking point and would plead with me for mercy and release.

I am not sure when I first heard or saw those words, “Know Thyself,” but I must have been very young and taken them to heart very quickly; by the time I was entering my teenage years there were three things I was sure of concerning myself. First, I am very beautiful; second, I am highly intelligent and third, I desire power.

You think I am arrogant? That I have an inflated view of myself? Then let me say that I know I am beautiful because since early childhood and to this day I have been told I am. I know I am intelligent because having been given intelligence tests my parents were told that I would be a “high achiever” in any field I chose to study.

As for my will to power, the combination of beauty and intelligence properly used opens many if not all doors.

To seek power had a facet to it that many do not take account of; the power seeker must have a powerful will and iron self control. If you cannot master yourself, then you are unfit to master anyone else. This came home to me forcefully when I entered puberty. Quickly I realised I had a vigorous sex drive. I also recognized that this must be controlled and used sparingly.

Another, and you might think contradictory, aspect of my life was, that from an early age I longed to have a child of my own. At first this was but a childish fantasy such as many young girls have, but when I came into my teenage years this also became a powerful drive.

Throughout my school years I was what they called, accelerated through my classes. This meant that I was always one class ahead of my age group and this in turn led to my being ready to go to university when I was sixteen.

During my high school years and for the first two years of my university course, unlike most of the other girls, I withheld myself from sexual contact. When I began to be sexually active it would be with a very carefully chosen male, and with the end that I should have a child.

There were plenty of men who sought my sexual favours and it was when I was nineteen that I met the man I wanted to father my child. He had the qualities I was looking for; good looks and physique, intelligence, plenty of money and importantly, he was already married with three children.

You must understand I had no wish to marry him or set up with him in a long term relationship. He would serve only to make me pregnant, and then be in a position to pay well for the privilege of having done so.

I shall not mention his name because he was and is a powerful national figure, and I have no reason to want to expose him. I wanted him because it was my belief that our combination would produce a child of outstanding beauty and intellect.

When I was sure he had made me pregnant I sent him on his way. It was not easy because he offered to divorce his wife and marry me. I played the virtuous maiden saying that I could not possibly break up his family and possibly his career. It concluded as I had hoped, with a liberal sum of money down and an allowance until my child was financially independent.

When the child was born I was tempted to call him after the beautiful god Adonis but wisdom prevailed and I called him Aden.

Aden was all I hoped my child would be, beautiful and, as time showed, highly intelligent.

With the liberal allowance granted me by his father I was able to continue my studies and pay to have Aden cared for when needed. I made sure that he had plenty of time with me, as I wanted my influence to prevail over him, not that of others.

I spent many years at my studies and since I had no difficulty absorbing what was offered, I was able to cover many subjects, but finally came to focus on psychology. It was in this subject I finally gained my doctorate.

As you will understand, with my doctorate and looks many doors stood open before me, but then I took a direction that many felt was bizarre considering the studies I had undertaken. I shall explain.

It was through my studies, especially those in psychology and sociology; I came to understand that humanity is divided into two main groups. The first and by far the larger group I call those of “Slave Mentality.” The second group the small minority, I call the “Aristocracy of Intellect.”

Those of slave mentality are wafted back and forth by fads and fashions. They have but to be told what to eat drink and wear, and they will run after the latest trend without thought. They are easy to manipulate, believing what their politicians, industrial leaders, television advertisers and others whom they consider as prominent figures, tell them. They are the cannon fodder of wars and industry, and being told they are free they naturally accept that they are free, even though they are for ever being manipulated.

Those who belong to the Aristocracy of the intellect stand above those of slave mentality. They are few in number; they are frequently unknown except to others of their kind. Sometimes openly but often behind the scenes, they wield great power. It is they who mould the minds and lives of the slave majority.

It is to this aristocracy that I belong and, given the easy manipulation of the slave majority, I decided to exploit it. I became a fashion designer.

What could be easier? True many fashion designers are much vaunted, even praised as geniuses, but geniuses in what sense?

For women especially, but increasingly for men, they design the most ridiculous and inconvenient “fashion garments.” Most designs are supposed to enhance the sexual appeal of the wearer, but, as I have learned, if you have true beauty and sex appeal, no clothing can either hide or enhance it.

So I began to design clothing for the slave majority. The more outlandish the design, the more it was driven home to them through advertising, that this is the “in thing,” this is the “latest fashion,” the more they rushed to spend their money so as to be “up with the latest.”

However great I had anticipated this enterprise would be, it bounded beyond even my expectations. Every one had to be seen wearing the Venus Fox label. From a fashion house I expanded into shops selling only Venus Fox designs. The money came pouring in.

I have previously said that I am a woman of powerful sexual appetites and that I keep them under stern control. This does not mean I denied myself completely sexual gratification; yet in doing so I was judicious.

I chose my sexual partners carefully and made sure there were no further pregnancies. I also made sure that they paid for my favours. All of them were short term and eventually I ceased to be available since I set myself a new sexual goal.

Aden was all I wanted him to be and as he entered puberty I could see that he was becoming a true physical Adonis. In intellect he resembled me and I suppose his father. In one other respect he also followed me, in that he had an iron will.

Like me he had been accelerated through the education system and he could easily have entered university at fifteen. I decided, however, to let him have a year free of formal studies and to undertake some of his education myself.

As Aden matured to the point of being ready for sexual activity I saw that appropriate girls were put in his way. Carefully vetted by me to make sure they were free of disease and on the contraceptive pill, I let Aden make free with these girls, whom I thought of as “Aden’s sluts.”

When Aden had tired of a particular girl I made sure she was appropriately rewarded and sent on her way. Some were inclined to make a fuss at being “thrown over,” as they put it, but they were all of slave mentality and the sight of some money saw them on their way.

Aden’s iron will included a dogmatic morality where I was concerned. I make no apologies about my intentions regarding Aden. I loved him and frankly lusted for him and I had every intention that he should be the next man to make me pregnant. I would have a child with my child.

A child created by Aden and was sure to be a super child. It would surpass Aden and I in looks and intellect, and would rise to great heights.

With the man who had fathered Aden I had no further contact apart from his regular payments. He had sought no contact with Aden either, no doubt coming to the conclusion it was better for his career to let the past be the past.

With Aden, it would be different. I would take him as my permanent lover. The problem was, although I saw he desired me, his foolish moral dogma would not allow him to copulate with me.

I first came to a full decision regarding my sexual future with Aden when he was sixteen and had begun university. I had to overcome his moral objection and break his will to deny me his body. I laid my plans and made my preparations carefully.

Like a patient spider that had weaved its web, I was prepared to wait. It was when he was eighteen I would overcome his opposition, meanwhile, I would tease and tempt him. I would make his life a hell of craving for me.

There had always been a lot of tactile relationship between us, but now I intensified this. What had been a tender filial kiss between us I allowed to linger longer. I pulled my body against him, at times rotating my hips against his abdomen. All this was carried out gradually and always made to seem as if it happened by chance.

Over months I slowly increased the sensual pressure and could see his erections that sprang forth from our contact. For a while he tried to avoid such contact with me, but in his heart he longed for it, and so he returned to submit himself to my tortures.

To try and relieve himself from the sexual tensions that my actions engendered, he went off to one of his sluts. This did not trouble me because I knew that such girls were but a substitute for what he really wanted; me.

I used some of my own products to lure him on, appearing before him in panties and bras that hardly existed. I let me see how firm my breasts were and through the diaphanous material he could see my carnation pink nipples. The panties were design to fit below the mons and to reveal in the shape of the material the outline of the vagina’s outer lips.

I was careful never to let him see me completely naked because, although I had nothing to hide, his fantasy about the little that remained hidden from him would tease and stress him further.

At times if he was seated at his desk studying I would come beside him and let my breasts brush against his shoulder and cheek. I am sure that if I was wearing one of my minimal products, he could, on these occasions, smell my vaginal aroma.

Sexually I had him in extremis. He was fighting a raging battle within himself, a battle he knew he must eventually lose.

The spider continued to wait. It was during the vacation at the end of his second year at university that I brought the whole matter to a head.

We had gone to our seaside house for a few weeks. In the past I had usually invited a few other people to be with us, including some females who could keep Aden happy. This year we went alone.

I waited for three days until I knew he would start to feel the pressure of sexual frustration, and then I struck. Throughout the day I had worn the most minimal of my minimal creations. I had also brought along several pairs of swimming briefs from my male collection. These too were minimal, not allowing the wearer to hide any embarrassing projections. They did not hide Aden’s.

All day long he was in an agony of sexual desire. I saw the hunger in his eyes as he looked at me, yet still he made no move. That iron will of his refused to let him approach his own mother however much he craved for her.

When it came time for us to go to bed I made sure he departed in the maximum discomfort. I pulled our near naked bodies close and kissed him, letting my tongue run over his lips. He broke away with a gasp of anguish and fled to his bedroom.

I let him have a few minutes, and then walked into his room. He was on top of the bed, his throbbing penis in his hand. I said nothing, but walked over to him, sat across him, and began to stroke the cleft of my warm wet vaginal lips along his shaft.

This is where we came in. I now had him groaning and writhing under me, but still he would not try to force entry into me. He might have tried to throw me off, but strong as he was and slight as I might seem, I was also strong. I also knew he would never try to hurt me, but above all, he was insane with lust for me.

I still held back from him. He would beg and plead with me before I would let him enter me. I thought for a while he would never give in, but finally he cried out, “Mother, please help me; I love you.”

He was mine. I had broken him at last. I poised my vagina over the crown of his shaft and slowly let him slide into me. I had something special prepared for him.

I had read that female spies sometimes carried inside their vaginal tunnel secret messages on micro film. As part of their training for this work they were taught to strengthen their vaginal muscle. I had always been fairly well developed in this regard, but for two years I had used a dildo inserted into me to practice clenching my vagina round it. I had developed a very powerful grip.

I clenched his penis and he let out a wild cry of agonising pleasure. “Mother, oh mother,” he almost screamed.

I moved slowly up and down on him, gripping and ungripping his manhood. I sucked him into my depths, and then released him as I drew back. He was beyond self control now. He had surrendered and like most who submit he was helpless to help himself.

Unable to hold back, he ejaculated into me. I felt his hot sperm explode into me as he held on to my hips, dragging me down so he might penetrate to my depths.

I had no orgasm myself. I think the struggle to break Aden’s resistance had focused me too much and I was for the moment unable to free myself from the tension. Never the less, I was not overly concerned. I knew now he would be unable to resist me into the future, and the fullness of sexual love would have time to blossom between us.

He gave one last moaning thrust into me, sighed and relaxed.

I did not withdraw from him, but after letting him rest for a few moments I leaned forward and brought a nipple to his mouth. He took it in and began to suckle me.

I was not sure whether I was mother or lover at that moment. As he sucked on my nipple it was as if he was a child again, yet at the same time my already raging sexual need was racked up still further.

I felt him hardening inside me as he prepared for another ejaculation. Having won my battle, I now showed my softer, yielding side. I climbed off him and lay on my back, offering myself in an attitude of submission to him.

He leaned over and kissed me long and hungrily. As he broke from the kiss he said, “I love you very dearly mother.”

“I know Aden,” I replied. “You’re safe home now.”

I am not quite sure what I meant by “safe home,” the words seemed to slip out. Perhaps it was that he had returned to place that had brought him into the light of day. Maybe I felt a powerful sense of communion with him, an oneness such as is rare between man and woman. I only knew that I wanted him and no other.

Now he took me slowly, relishing every clasp of my vagina, delighting in the warm softness now made slippery by his previous ejaculation.

I knew he was waiting on me, refusing to release him self into me until he had brought me to climax. He had not long to wait.

I felt the beginnings of my orgasm as if at a great distance. I began to quiver at its approach until after what seemed an age it burst in upon me and I was writhing and weeping with its agonising yet intoxicating pleasure.

There are few situations in which a man and a woman are more open to each other than when they are engaged in loving sexual intercourse.

It is an instant of extreme emotional danger. One hint of rejection, one word of criticism, and the moment can be destroyed, sometimes for ever. Extreme sensitivity to the other is called for. Only the tenderest words must be used to signify the delight of one for the other.

In the aftermath the couple can be even more sensitive, especially the woman. If the man immediately withdraws, turns his back upon her and goes to sleep, the woman can feel utterly bereft. She has been but a means to an end, and not the end itself. It was not thus with Aden. As the shuddering of my orgasm died away he stayed with me, speaking his words of love and devotion until I had calmed. Even then he was slow to withdraw, and when he did he drew me to him to hold me in his arms and caress my breasts.

It was if the tables had turned. I, the one lusting for power, for ever seeking to control, was now the compliant, yielding one, content to rest in his embrace. I knew we would be together for always, but it was not me who had determined it, but Aden. He had mastered me.

It was so. We were ardent lovers giving and receiving from each other in acts of love I had never before experienced. I was pregnant to him and I was overjoyed. At last I would bring forth the super child.

As I write I am shortly to give birth to the fruits of my endeavours and the love of Aden and I.

Special Note.

At this point Venus Fox’s story comes to an abrupt end, but Aden takes it up to tell us of the outcome.

I, Aden Fox, wish you to know what happened at and after the birth of the child mother and I had conceived.

Like many of those who follow the doctrine of eugenics, believing they can breed what they variously called, “Super man”; “Master race;” or like my mother, “The Aristocracy of the Intellect,” mother firmly believed that her careful choice of my father and the further choice of me as yet another father for her child, would bring forth a little “Aristocrat.” It was not to be.

Mother gave birth to a Down’s syndrome baby. At first she seemed to accept the situation, but shortly after bringing the child home, she smothered it, and then committed suicide.

Her long held views on the divisions between humanity; her belief in selective breeding; her will to power, came tumbling down. She was unable to bear this loss of her life’s meaning, and so she had to end that life.

I who had been brought up within the orbit of her views, and had to a large extent shared them, also found my life tumbling around my ears.

In time, and with help, I came to see how wrong headed and even evil had been her way of looking at life. She had been without compassion for her fellow creatures, and endowed with great gifts of beauty and intelligence, instead of using them to help uplift her fellows, she used them to exploit instead.