I can’t really remember when I started being the person I am now. Logically, of course, I was ‘me’ from the day I was born. Yet when people ask me when I started being ‘me’ it is always a difficult question to answer. They are asking, I think, when I started doing what I do now, or perhaps when I realised or knew. But even that is a complex question to answer: there was no single moment of recognition or decision to live the life I currently do. I enjoy my youth without planning for the future and things such as retirement. In fact, I don’t even think about making an appointment for a manicure – something after all far more important than my distant retirement.

 

My life is simple and I like to keep it that way. No doubt many will see me as selfish, aloof, cold, arrogant, irreverent and carefree. But as a selfish women I don’t care what they think: I am proud to be me. I see the jealousy in other women’s eyes and it pleases me. The attention and desire from men amuses me. I don’t need to be nice, or please people, or be gentle to get people to like me; especially the men. They like me when I’m mean to them and many beg for more. I’m young and beautiful so…

 

I’m a woman of the 21st century, or at least what a woman of the 21st century should be. Please don’t confuse this with Feminism; I’m not a feminist at all. Feminists are so old fashioned, fighting for equal rights, and shouting about ‘girl power’. As if women needed to take power. I know I have the real power and I use it to give myself a comfortable life where men are just meant to serve and please me.

 

Power is, after all, only a matter of perception. We are told that money is power, that knowledge is power and that weapons are power. Yet, if that is true, why don’t feminists break into the largest banks to take all the money, get degrees from prestigious Universities, or buy guns to arm themselves? It would be easier and faster for them to take the power they claim to want if they only realised what I realised. Why fight for years when we already have all the power we need between our legs?

 

Let’s face it: power, real power, is sex and nothing else. Men will do anything and everything to get laid, from becoming successful and earning lots of money to starting wars. From the dawn of time it is simple nature: men will do anything for the right woman. I know this. Instead of fighting I simply use what mother nature has already given me.

 

So the answer to when I started being me is: when I started using my brain, when I realised my power of being a woman, when I saw the power a simple smile can have on a man. I started being me from the moment people around me surrendered and gave me the power over them. This showed me how easy it is for a woman to rule and take whatever she wants - once she knows which buttons to press.

 

Power is just a matter of psychology. Conquer someone’s brain and fantasies and you’ll have it all. You have their hearts, you have their dreams and then you have all from them because they will do all for you. That’s how this world really works and I was lucky to learn it from an early age. When I was a child I was gifted with the beauty which captured all of my classmates hearts, dreams and for some, wallets. As a teenager I saw how easy it was to get what I wanted and later I understood women don’t even need physical beauty to gain hearts and dreams, they just need to know their power, be confident and live by their own instead of believing they are less than men and have always to be “the good girl”.

 

I’m not the “good girl” and will never be. I’m that bitch concerned about herself and her heels, materialistic when it comes to my practical life and caring about those who deserve my affection. I’m a devil for some people apparently, twisted, kinky, wild and free, yet an angel for others, sweet, kind with a rare capacity for empathy and awareness of emotions in other people. But at heart it is about me, myself and I.

 

I’m not a feminist yet nor am I a traditional housewife type. I’m simply a woman, proud to be born woman, loving my femininity and perhaps just in love with life. I don’t really care about important matters like religions, races, politics or even “important topics” not because it bores me but because life and people are far more important and it’s a waste of time to spend hours thinking and speaking about such topics. All I really care about, besides heels, makeup, fashion and parties is humanity and fantasies. People’s brain and all what is hidden in there.

I care about their dreams and their nightmares and I love to be both for them. I care about their fantasies and shameless thoughts and I love to use them both to control them. Yes, that’s the right word - control- That’s what power is after all.

 

I usually meet these men online. I like to think of them caught on an invisible wire, attached to my pinkie finger. They do all my wishes, they worship and adore me. They get so attached that their lives come presented to me on a platter; I can use them, abuse them, and make them happy even as their conventional lives turn to ruin. These men end up begging to become mine, so that wire turns into a leash. They beg to kneel before me, my beauty and power, to have me looking over them and bringing meaning to their existence.

 

Men always dream about the woman they could never have. The young and beautiful girl they were never able to date when they were in college, the powerful and confident teacher, object of their fantasies as a teenager, even that cousin or their sister’s best friend. They spend nights and days dreaming about wishing to exist for her; (fantasies are as infinite as there will ever been minds to create them) so I become ‘Her’ and even more. I’m that ideal they can’t have and lead them into my abyss using only my smile, wrapping them into my wire of perversion to make them mine. Using their weaknesses to please my selfishness.

 

Like a lioness I can smell my prey, their fear, their willingness to lose it all. I spot them and how they look at me. I see how they fantasise about my legs or my feet. Sometimes I play with them, just for fun, just to feel my power; like that poor little guy who couldn’t resist to follow me and my best friend when he saw us near Chancery Lane and who end, some days later, miserably kneeling with a bunch of roses on the dirt of Hyde Park kissing the ground my heel has trodden a minute before and calling me “Goddess” with sparkles of happiness in the eyes.

 

So yes, you could call me the ‘creature of your dreams.! It’s actually a nickname I like. Although I never thought about it before. I live and feed with people’s dreams, with people’s fantasies. I’m their succubus, a real one haunting them at night, during the day and in fact, ‘just’ always. I’m their fear and their happiness I believe and they keep coming, begging and many, spoiling me which is, at the end of the day what really matters.

 

Since my first day on this world, when I opened my eyes for the first time I started crying because a stupid doctor came to disturb me while I was comfortably sleeping into my mother’s belly. From that moment on, I guess I just decided to become a bitch with all the people who will ever dare to disturb me, upset me, make me wait or even say no to me.

 

That was 23 years ago, and since that moment the little girl I was has grown and developed into the bitch I am now!

 

I don’t remember my first years in this world for sure but I do remember having a nice and caring family, always loving me, teaching me how to be a “nice little girl”. They did their best to inculcate in us, my elder sister and I, the moral values they believe in helping us to become better persons and even if I always loved them all with all my heart… I was constantly what we can politely call: ‘a pain in the ass’. Apparently I’m still am.

 

I don’t torture my classmates to make them give me the chocolate bar anymore or make them do my homework but I still play with them and torture them, just in a wilder and more psychological way than when I was a 6 years old. Now, I make them change all their work schedule and cross part of the city knowing how busy they are because of a political issue in the party to just sit in a hotel bar in the diplomatic neighbourhood of Berlin and make a selfie with a foolish face at an exact time so “The Princess” can have fun and be pleased.

 

Sadly for this man, after sending the picture the only answer he got was “you are late! Now beg”.