My c**t is your c**t

Belinda is hurt.

Very hurt.

That is why

She is

Writing in short sentences

Like this

I don’t want to bring the subject back to me all the time because as I’ve said, it’s not all about me. Except it is. But since I set up my blog, I’ve found that instead of support from women I seem to get outright hate.

What’s the problem? I mean we all have cunts. And that fact alone means we need to support each other in a world where we are constantly stalked by misogynistic penises. It’s not as if our cunts are different. Ok they are. Mine is a really hot cunt, probably hotter than yours. But it’s still a cunt. And just because I spend my days fucking for the feminist cause it doesn’t mean that women who are say, selling cakes at kindergarden stalls, have cunts that are any less interesting than mine.

I think the problem is that women hate me because they hate themselves, especially their own bodies. It’s sad. Of course it's totally understandable if you don’t have a body like mine. But hey, it’s not all about you. You know I have a really simple solution. If you hate your own body, you can share the love. Why not take all that self-hate and instead turn it into love for another woman? Like me, Belinda. Support me. Support my cunt so I can take on more of those penises. Because in the end it’s all of us who benefit.

The Glass Ceiling

Carrying the mantle for radical feminism between my legs isn't easy. Not even for me, Belinda Swallows - wife, mother, sister, daughter. Actually none of those are true except the last one but it sounds good, doesn't it? The point is I am a woman. A woman putting her arse, pussy and breasts out there in full view of men, just to get a better deal for other women. And instead of every single woman getting behind me and admiring my hot figure, they write to me and abuse me, saying that my fucking has nothing to do with eliminating the glass ceiling.

That is absolute rubbish. In fact I took a major step on behalf of all women this weekend when I was in bed at S's place. As I wiped at least six gallons of cum from my face I looked up and found myself staring at the mirrors on the ceiling. Yep, a glass ceiling. It made me so angry that I turned on him and demanded to know why I didn't see it before.

"Well you crawled into the bedroom on your hands and knees. And then I pushed your face down into the pillow and fucked you.

"If I'd known I was going to get fucked under a glass ceiling I wouldn't have done it," I said. "You've violated my rights you bastard." I felt really strongly about this and I didn't want S to think he could get away with asserting his male dominance and further damaging the political, economic and social rights of women without a fight. I had to stand up for women everywhere.

S said he was really sorry and I immediately forgave him.

"What can I do to make it better," he said?

"Well," I replied, "I think I have to redress the balance of power in this relationship."

"How about if I tie you up, slap you and call you a dirty, cheap, slut whore?"

I smiled. "That would be perfect" I said.