All language subtitles for Divinely Evil.2020.720p.WEBRip.x264.AAC-[YTS.MX]

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My queen, owner and mistress.

I am so glad to see
that my ad has paid off.

Firstly,
I want you to get to know me better.

You already know my name.

I am 33, 1.74m tall, I weigh 68kg

and I have brown hair, blue eyes, a
mustache, I'm an architect and I'm single.

I love to serve with total servitude, and
I feel that we will get along very well,

because I'm quite
versatile and super discreet.

I am polite,
affectionate and very understanding.

I want to be your total slave.

Let me lick your feet,
be kicked by you, be at your disposal,

worship you, obey your every whim.

If you allow it, I will send you a picture
of me with my tongue stretched out,

for you to run it all over your body,
including your feet.

I can picture you playing,
all the while smiling

as you squeeze my nose
with your delicate little toes,

making me smell their scent.

I will suck each little toe
like a delicious popsicle.

Then they will all go down on my member,
ravaging it mercilessly.

At this point,
I may ejaculate and wet them.

To excuse myself for such a daring act,
I will clean them with my tongue,

while my owner beats
me with a rawhide slipper,

which I own just for that purpose.

And after serving as a mat so as to feel

the sweat and the taste of
your divine feet in my tongue.

Yours servilely,

Adalberto

My name is Wilma Azevedo,

I am now 74 years old.

I made a career as a writer,
I've wanted to write since I was a child,

and I was considered the literary queen
of sadomasochism throughout Brazil.

I was very successful in the 70s,
the 80s and the 90s.

Wanda!

Wilma, this is Wanda.

- Hi, how are you? Pleased to meet you.
- Hi Wanda!

The actress who will play you in the film.

Great. The pleasure is mine.

I'll sit here.

She'll be here to help
us read the short stories.

Great.

Among other things,
if you need her help, just ask...

So, Wilma, I'd like to know about
your life path, since you were a child...

Could you tell us a little about it?

When I was little, I lived in Taubaté,

near the farm that belonged to
the late author Monteiro Lobato.

There was a water spring there,

and everyone in that neighborhood

went there to fetch drinking water.

I was a very curious child.

There were many fruit trees there

and I liked to go
there not to fetch water,

but to pick fruits.

I was on my way there and I met my sister,
who was coming back from the spring

with an empty bucket.

She asked me, "Where are you going?"

I told her I was going to pick fruits.

She said, "Don't go there!"

"Why not?"

"Just don't."

She grabbed me by my
dress and pulled me back.

When she pulled me,
my dress ripped a little.

I insisted, so she told me,
"There's a pervert there!"

I didn't know what a pervert
was. "But what's a pervert?"

"A pervert is a man who's out
there naked in a black trench coat

and he opens it and
flashes his pecker at us."

Oh my God, that was what I wanted
to see! I've always been curious.

It's no wonder that I'm considered
a natural-born sexologist,

everything about sex
has always interested me.

I'd lived on a farm,
watching animals copulate,

and all that was a matter of
curiosity and discovery for me.

I was very advanced for my age.

I picked the fruits, lifted my dress to
hold them and when I was about to leave

he came out and opened his coat.

And I was scared to see that...

I'd never imagined what an
adult man's erection was like.

So I darted through the woods.

And I managed to escape through a narrow
passage…He wasn't able to get past it.

When I got home, my mother knocked
on my head because my dress was torn.

I was trembling but I
didn't say a word to anyone.

Around three days later,

we heard that a friend of mine,
almost my age, was dying in the hospital.

And before she died, she'd been raped,
she'd been hurt real bad...

And she'd said that it had been
a man in a black trench coat

who had done that to her.

So I realized the danger,
and I wondered...

I grew up wondering,
"Why would an adult do this to a child?"

Like the innocent child I was!

It was like opening a flower, a rose,

by pulling its petals. It's
opening before springtime.

…and after serving as a mat so as to feel

the sweat and the taste of
your divine feet in my tongue.

Yours servilely,

Adalberto.

I received many letters
from masochists telling…

telling what they wouldn't tell a priest,
a brother, or their best friend...

They told Wilma
Azevedo. Incredible stories!

Almost all masochists
who liked to be beaten,

who asked to be slippered like
this Adalberto guy, they told me...

I began to investigate where
that sensation first came from,

and most of them said that
when they were slippered,

spanked or even whipped on the ass,

they began to feel a nice tingling there.

Then that erogenous area, instead of
causing pain,

began to cause pleasure.

And they ejaculated. Many of them had
ejaculated for the first time that way.

When I was writing about it,

I found out that a Doctor Meissner,

a scientist,

had written about pain in my
grandson's high school book.

He said that we have numerous nerves

that end mainly in areas
unprotected by hair, like the buttocks.

And these nerves, when overstimulated,

instead of causing pain,
begin to cause pleasure.

So I realized that the
pleasure that masochists feel

when they are spanked, slippered, whipped…

...because anyone can
do this on their palm...

When they stop,
they'll feel a tingling sensation.

And in the erogenous areas,
the scientist himself says,

when they are overstimulated,
these nerves,

instead of causing pain,
begin to cause pleasure.

I liked everything about sadomasochism.

And in 1979 I came across a
magazine called "Man" in the newsstands,

and in it there were several
personal ads by foot fetishists,

people saying they wanted
to be domestic servants,

they wanted to have a mistress to serve.

And I answered these
letters as a dominatrix.

For each case I created
something specific...

The guy said "I want to be your puppy,
I want to kiss your feet,"

and I said "I'd love to have a slave

who kissed my feet, who licked my shoe,
who cleaned my stinky feet."

And he was smitten,
the one from the first ad I answered.

Each ad I answered, they were fascinated

by the fact that there was
a flesh-and-blood person

with the same predilections.

Sadomasochism was
completely silenced here in Brazil,

nobody disclosed anything. It was feared.

"Childhood"

I lost my parents very early in my life.

It was a train accident,
which I don't like to remember.

I just want to point out that
we'd had a wonderful Sunday.

It was my first picnic.

And what fascinated me the
most was the visit to the zoo.

And what traumatized me the most

was to see that the statues
at the front of the palace

where Dom Pedro had lived were mutilated.

I'd spent a long time contemplating
a beautiful Roman maiden

carrying a bouquet in her hands.

She was headless!

How I hated having
visited Quinta da Boa Vista.

On the way back from that trip,

the train that took us
to the suburbs crashed.

And my parents,
as well as my sister, were killed.

My mother, as I learned later,
had had her "red…"

Her "head…"

("the pronunciation!")

My mother had had her head cut off.

Cut off. Just like the statue, see?

I don't like parks or gardens, much less
statues like those in Quinta da Boa Vista.

With each passing day they lose
their beauty at the hands of vandals.

After the accident,
I went to live with a couple

whose husband had been my father's friend.

Seu Augusto and Dona Conceição
had been married for years,

but their marriage was like a tragedy.

She was very selfish.

And he was so simple, so humble,

he always treated me with affection,
but very respectfully.

And she, who had a wicked mind,

began to imagine that he was
interested in me for sexual reasons.

That made me angry, because he wasn't.

She always complained when he ran
his hand over my head, held my hand.

When he caressed me, respectfully,
she thought…

She got very jealous.

When he died,

she turned her attention to me

because she said that I would save
her life by marrying a wealthy man.

So she wanted to make
sure I was still a virgin,

and I was very upset when
she pulled up my clothes,

made me lie down,
took off my panties and examined me.

To see if the hymen was intact.

I was still an innocent child.

Soon after that, she found out

that the owner
of the grocery store in front of our house

was a rich Portuguese man.

So she taught me

how to lure and seduce him.

Then one day I put on
red high-heel sandals...

For the first time, he noticed my feet,
and he kept staring at me.

And I realized that he was interested
in something, I didn't know what.

Then I climbed a ladder to
get a can from the top shelf,

and he came up and ran
his hand over my sandal.

So I realized that he liked high heels,

and I set out to seduce
him into marrying me.

What else?

I don't remember.

I wrote that 30 years ago.

It's been 30 years, I never read it again.

There was the negotiation, the dowry...

Oh, yes.

Then the stroke.

Then comes the stroke? Well,
there goes the stroke of suspense...

You dedicate yourself to him for 3 years,
and he dies...

Oh,
he died? Wasn't he bedridden for 10 years?

3 years.

Okay, here goes.

I got married at 18,
he was 10 years older than me.

He was very fond of kissing my feet,
and on the honeymoon,

I had this urge to dress him up in
my nightgown, tie a bow in his hair…

put some make-up on him.

And he found it amusing,
too. And I liked it even more.

However, soon after that
he lost interest in this play,

and he had a stroke,
he was bedridden for 3 years

and I took over the grocery store,
though I didn't have a clue.

But since he was Portuguese,
he had wealthy relatives in Portugal,

who died and left him an inheritance.

So after I got that inheritance,

I moved to an upscale
neighborhood in the south of Rio.

"LA VENUS DE SATIN" DE WILMA AZEVEDO

I was tense.

But I was trying to remain calm.

I pondered one more time,

"Bull," I only knew him by his nickname,

"It's not fair for you to take
advantage of the situation.

I only accepted your ride so I
wouldn't be late for my exams.

You know how important
it is for me to take this test.

I've known you since the
beginning of the school year.

I've always tried to avoid your advances,
because I'm not into you.

Please, I know you aren't heading
where I need to be in half an hour.

Turn around!"

He'd taken a route other than the
one to the college where I studied.

Then I realized that
he was after something.

I told him, "Let's head back,
I'm going to be late."

And he kept going,
we were in a completely deserted area.

Then he stopped the car and
pulled out his member, saying:

"I'm here at your disposal.
Come straddle me."

I didn't want to. I kept saying, "No, no!"

When I sank down onto him, I noticed
that he was a bull not only by name,

but his member was also huge.

I felt something, but with hatred inside
me because of that forced situation.

It was a rape, right?

I told him, "I feel like killing you,
you know?"

And he said, "So kill me."

I said, "I will!"

I grabbed the seatbelt,

I wrapped it around his neck and
he thought that I was joking around.

But I gave it a jerk,
and when I jerked it I lowered my body,

so he penetrated me deeply
and I had my first orgasm,

and then another, and another...

He clutched the seatbelt, trying
to free himself, but it was too tight,

he couldn't...

He stuck out his tongue,
he was going red like a tomato…

Then I came to my senses,
"Oh my god, what am I doing?"

It wasn't my intention.

So I let go of him and
rushed out of the car.

I even left my panties back inside.

Then he took a deep
breath and speeded off,

leaving me behind in that deserted place.

Then I started to run,
it was growing dark.

I stumbled on a rock... and as I fell I
had multiple orgasms, all by myself.

That had never happened to me,

so I realized that it was the
pleasure I felt for trying to kill him.

For days I wondered what
that feeling was that I'd felt,

of pleasure, hate and then fear,
all together.

So I began to research it
by scouring used bookstores

for any books that talked about it.

"DELICIOUS TORMENTS" BY
WILMA AZEVEDO

Back then we used PO box numbers.

They got so excited,
they wanted to meet me,

they wanted to have
a relationship with me.

But I didn't, I was very afraid.

Even when I answered
the ad by Cosam Atsidas,

which means "Masoc Sadista" backwards.

What's his name?
What's his name?

Cosam Atsidas. He was well
known in the S&M literary milieu.

He founded the Brazilian Association
for Sadomasochism in 1984.

When I wrote to him with
some of my flights of fancy…

because he'd said he wanted
to be a domestic servant.

I replied saying that I would
like to have a domestic servant

who would cook for me, set the table,
serve my meals, but naked,

with a see-through apron on

so that I could grab him any
time I wanted, crush his balls...

He got so excited about it.

He'd already had some slaves,
but he'd never been one.

He asked if I wanted to
have a relationship with him,

but he had a case full of ropes,
chains, hooks, needles…

That really scared me.

When we met I told him,

"Put your tools down on the sink,
a queen never tires of playing with them."

Actually,
I didn't know what to do with them.

I had seen, in a magazine,

a dominatrix straddling her slave.

She had a lot of make-up
on and a shredded hairstyle.

I went into the bathroom, I fixed my hair,

put lots of makeup on and
walked out… I was so nervous!

Then I told him to come to me,

but I was afraid he would use
those tools on me, hurt me, fasten me.

"But I have to face up to
this... I want to write about it,

I want to be a writer of sadomasochism,
I have to face everything."

He came up on all fours,

very humble,
almost drooling with happiness,

his head hanging low.

Then I realized that I had the power to
really take on the role of a dominatrix.

I straddled him, I held up the
whip and started lashing him lightly,

telling him, "You're a beast,
you're an inferior being…",

making up stuff like that.

But the motel room,
I don't know if it's still like that,

but it had mirrors on all the walls,
and when I looked in them

and saw myself on top of him,
I was startled.

Seeing that strange
character of Wilma Azevedo…

Were you startled by your own image?

I was! I felt like laughing,

so I went into the bathroom
and laughed a lot in there…

And then all that tension was gone.

Because it was funny,
I thought the scene was funny.

Then I came back relaxed, and I
went on with the scene, creating things.

And the man fell hard for me.

We dated for 3 years,
we were deeply in love,

he wanted to leave his wife but I didn't.

And I began to write my short stories,
I didn't know what for.

"HAPPY CARNIVAL" BY WILMA AZEVEDO

I'd gone to a party and I met a man

who read the articles I
wrote for the magazine,

he knew that I was
going to be at that party.

He'd brought his slave, Karina,

to leave under my care,
because he was going to travel

and he didn't trust
anyone to leave her with.

When a slave goes to meet her master,

she always goes without
any panties or a bra on,

only with her clothes over her body.

Then when she got into the car,

she sat at the back and I slid my hand

to check if she had any
panties on. She didn't.

Then as I slid my hand
she opened her legs,

because a slave has to be at the
disposal of her master or her mistress.

So, my hand was there… it was awkward,
but fine.

When we arrived, he told her to
prepare my bath and bathe me.

Fine.

But when she went to pour me a drink,
she stumbled and spilled it.

Then he picked up the whip and
lashed her violently, or so I thought.

At the time I didn't understand much...

He told her to stay on her
knees before me, as punishment.

And we went on talking with her there,
and that was bothering me.

So I told him,
"Let's get on and do what must be done."

Then, when she lay down,
she was already naked.

She had a lot of pubic hair.

When she lay down, he spread the
cream on her and told me to shave her.

And, as I shaved her,
I could see that she had a huge clit.

It was bigger than my finger,

and I found it very interesting,
very strange, very beautiful even.

And I felt like sucking it.

I did it that day, for the first time,
for the novelty of it. It was interesting.

So he thought that I was into it,
that I liked it.

And he traveled and left her to serve me.

"ELEGY TO KARINA"

This poem was published in issue number 17

Parallel comparisons.

Rebellion.

The soul is weary of lulling chimeras,

in whose bosom memories and desires

roar like beasts. Sorrow and loneliness...

A slave abandoned in
lovelessness with no name,

no Master, no direction, no tomorrow.

Neglected, she suffers such injustice

that her life is consumed by grief.

A slave to bitterness chained.

A captive, much too aware of pain.

A human wreck come of a late love.

A revived longing that still tortures her.

Incandescent whip, rope, punishment, kiss?

Memories of the joys of Sadism?

They are chimeras of tragic lyricism,

which revive her in every scene, ardently!

Why does the past trouble her?

You are strong, noble,
beautiful, confident!

You shall beat on in pleasure and pain.

Your sorrows? A poet's sentimentalisms!

The world is yours,
my disciple, my friend.

You shall have another owner,
master, guide.

You shall see, like the dawn of a new day,

a new slave be born from the old Karina!

I thank you for your praise,
for your tenderness,

For thinking of me so highly.

You have not forgotten
me. Even in hardship,

I know how good and
sweet and pure you are!

You have entrusted me with these pages,
saying,

"Read them, and then tear them up"

I have read them,
but I will not tear them up.

For this story of painful torment is

dazzling evidence of a life fully lived.

A story of love,
longing, failure, victory.

A moment torn from our lives.

A page that should not be forgotten.

There lie, indelibly engraved,

our moments of
discoveries and realizations.

And everything that is
described there happened

to three people who met in a real world.

It is not fantasy, but glory!

I hope that another Master chains you,

and, at your fresh start,
that you receive as a gift

someone who will possess
you gently and calmly.

Not only your body, but also your soul!

She was a very important lawyer.

She became my lawyer, she helped me a lot.

But we drifted apart,
because when I quit the scene,

I turned away from
everything and everyone.

For 18 years nobody
knew if I was dead or alive.

They sent me strange pictures,
like this guy here.

He sent me this picture,
then this one arrived.

You get the impression that a
woman is stepping on his member.

It's all purple, look!

And here he was playing with the boots,
alone,

wishing for a woman in
these boots to step on his feet.

They offered me anything I wanted,
just to do this stuff with them.

Did they send you letters?

And pictures...

How many letters did you receive?

When I worked for Rudolf magazine,
I received more than 300 letters a month.

There's a story about me there... The
reporter went with me to the post office,

I opened the P.O. box and
they streamed onto my lap.

I couldn't even think
about going to bed with him.

But he took the picture and hid it,
and said he'd only give it back if I went.

He would recognize me,
because he had a picture of me.

But I didn't know who he was.

And when I got there, he was this…

I took one look at him
and I was disgusted.

He was so ugly, he'd said he
was good-looking, tall, strong…

I was so angry that I
had to go to bed with him,

to do what he wanted
to get my picture back.

When we got to the motel,

what he really wanted was for me
to defecate so that he could eat it.

He wanted my fecal matter.

So… I don't know if it was my anger,
my feeling of disgust...

But my gut refused to work.

Then he had the idea to buy green bananas,
not too ripe, nor…

and introduce them.

He said,
"I'm going to introduce the banana

and you hang in there,
it'll only take a little while."

The banana really came out,
along with something else,

but I didn't look to see
if he really swallowed it.

I left there in disgust.

After that, I learned that a lot of
people share that same pleasure.

And I wrote an article about it,

"Fascination with Feces",

which was published in Rudolf, which
was a magazine of unusual sex practices.

So you see how big the thing was.

"FASCINATION WITH FECES" BY WILMA AZEVEDO

After the beating,
the executioners will crucify me,

fastening me to the cross with ropes

like the two thieves were
crucified beside Jesus Christ.

This is an example of the kinds of
punishment that your slave may suffer.

I have already inflicted many
violent punishments on myself,

like hot oil on my penis,
a stick in my urethra,

the whipping of my sex until
it was covered with bruises.

All these punishments, however,
made me reach the limit of my strength.

But now, with you, my queen,

or my executioners,
the blows will be inclement,

and my lean,
impure flesh will be torn mercilessly.

I must emphasize that joy and
pleasure are strictly for my executioners.

For myself, only pain.

During the execution, my mistress Wilma

will notice that my penis
will never stand erect.

I deserve only pain and suffering,

so I do not think it will be
hard to find a group of people

who will be willing to help me

enforce this punishment on my body.

I must also declare that,
besides being white and thin,

I have a small cock and am therefore
incapable of satisfying my queen.

Therefore, I must be tortured,
if possible, to death.

In this regard, my queen Wilma knows that,
in other countries,

worthless young men like
me offer to be executed.

If you so desire,
and/or know a group of people

who have a remote,
isolated place available,

I offer my body to be
barbarously tortured.

To be flogged until my cock is cut off,

to have my nipples plucked
out with red-hot pincers,

to have my anus and urethra
burned with red-hot iron,

to have my scrotum cut open and my balls
pulled out or ripped apart with pincers,

to be crucified on the cross with nails,
and, as a stroke of mercy,

instead of a spear in my heart,

my executioners will
thrust one up my anus,

piercing my guts until it
comes out of my mouth.

I am single, I have no family,

I can sign a statement
explaining my attitudes

and taking full responsibility for my act.

Therefore, I recommend
that you not publish this letter,

so that I may somehow realize the
final execution of my wretched body.

Signed: Your slave sentenced to death.

Wanda, please, bring me those pictures,
so I can show you that day.

When we arrived at the hotel,

Cosam placed him on
a table and tied him up.

Before that, he made him choose the
tool with which he was to be enslaved.

These are Cosam's tools.

He'd taken this one here, which I'd never
seen, but he describes in the letter.

It's a double-ended dildo.

Then he wrapped it up
with extra coarse sandpaper…

He wanted us to penetrate him in
the anus with this artificial member…

This would tear him apart.
The sandpaper was really rough.

So… he said that he wanted that,

And Cosam had very rough-and-ready tools.

These handcuffs are made of iron,

this is a nail-studded slipper,
which he used to punish his slaves.

But, in reality,
even Cosam had all that as symbolism.

He never really used any of these.

He just thought they looked nice.

I never used any of it myself.

So he chose the hardest whip.

Then Cosam whipped him,
leaving him severely scarred.

And I started feeling bad
about the whole thing…

He was lying there, and he really
did have a very small member.

He'd asked to have it all pulled out,
to have the inside of his urethra burned…

and when Cosam turned him on his stomach

and opened his anus with a gynecological…

speculum, is it?

And he drew the cigarette
near to burn him inside...

I went into the tub with the young man,
but to show him

how hard it would be to handle all that,

I scratched his back with my fingernails

till it bled and rubbed lemon on it.

The salt… I poured
the salt into his urethra,

because it would hurt a lot,
but it wouldn't damage any tissues, right?

I got a phone call from a woman, saying,

"If you want to come, today there
will be a meeting in our apartment",

and I agreed to go.

There was a whip, handcuffs,
there were some tools in the room...

And regular furniture. But
the apartment was very dusty...

Then I said, "Funny,
I hide all my S&M gear,

"and you display them all on the walls.

"Don't you have kids?"

- "Oh, we have a son."
- "How old is he?"

"Eighteen," he said,

"but he doesn't care about it,
we have a farm

"and I tell him it's
horseback riding gear."

The bell rang,
he opened the door and a man walked in.

He said, "This is my son."
But he looked like he was 30.

That man was not 18. And
he'd said his son was 18.

The man greeted me and
went into the next room,

there was this closet dividing both rooms.

He moved some stuff behind
the closet and then he left.

After he left, I heard the
whirring of an electronic device,

like a microphone or something.

- A recording?
- Yes, a recording.

They asked a lot of questions
and I answered them.

They asked me a lot about how I tortured
my slaves, what I did, what I didn't do.

Then they suggested that I rent a
house and take all my slaves there.

It was a house in Barra neighborhood,

one of the first group sex venues.

They would help pay
and organize the meeting,

because they wanted me to teach
my techniques for torturing my slaves,

which I had created on my own.

It all sounded very strange to me

and when we finished the session,

he said that he was going
to drive me home.

Their apartment was in Lapa,

and I said "There's no need,
my car is parked out there on the street."

I drove down Santa Luzia Street,
past Praça XV,

and suddenly I saw that he
was right behind me in his car.

I drove faster but he kept following me.

I stopped at the lights
and saw him behind me,

and then he disappeared
for a good stretch.

But when I turned onto Dom Pedro Street,

I made him out far behind me,
it was already late at night…

I took a quick turn onto a
narrow street and he drove past it.

The next day the telephone
rings and a man's voice tells me,

"Wilma, now I know your full name
all I need to know now is your address."

At first I thought that it
was someone pulling my leg.

So I said, "Then take a pen,
and I'll give you my address."

Then he said,
"When you show up dead in the mangrove,

"with your mouth full of ants,

"I bet you won't find it funny." Because
I had laughed, thinking it was a friend.

Then I realized that it was for real.

So I hung up and then talked to my lawyer

and we found out that it
was a team of detectives who

were after me to teach
them how to torture,

and she told me that
they would pay very well

for me to present a
session enslaving my slaves.

But I refused to do it, because,
if they were detectives,

they were linked to the police,
to the repression,

to the dictatorship, and I would
never collaborate with such a thing.

My tortures were erotics

and had nothing to do
with what they were after.

M TORTURED BY WILMA

STRIP, BOW DOWN, OBEY, BE HUMBLE

She was about to open the curtains,
she said,

"We're going to put on a show
that's only performed in New York.

It's the first time we
perform it here in Brazil."

When she opened the curtains,

there were two gay men,
two lesbians and a normal couple.

But they were naked,
having sex. That really shocked me.

I was used to nightclub shows
where there would be stripping,

but at the end they
always had a codpiece on.

But now, besides being stark naked,
they were having sex.

So it shocked me a little…

the gay men were doing a 69,

the lesbians were scissoring

and the normal couple was at the back.

That was the show,
a fuckfest on the stage.

I smoked a lot in those days,
I really wanted to quit but I couldn't.

I was smoking my cigarette,
watching the show, but I was so shocked

that I put the cigarette down in
the ashtray and was about to leave.

People were standing
at the edge of the stage,

they were leaning in to
have a better look at the back.

She noticed it, so she told
the couple that was in the back,

"You two, come here to the front,

"people who come to this club are
not used to seeing missionary sex."

They were enjoying it so much that they...

The third time,
she held out her hand and said,

"In the name of Jesus, I'm talking to you.

Jesus's blood is powerful. Now
you will hear me, come to the front!"

That gave me a horrible
chill. For god's sake,

in a place like that you
play with Jesus' name?

It's one of the first
commandments of the Bible,

"You shall not misuse the
name of the lord your god."

At that moment I started
to feel sick and I fainted.

Then the next day I went looking
for a church and I became a believer

and was baptized in the waters and told
the waters to wash Wilma Azevedo away.

And I walked out as Edivina.

Wanda!

Come here a second.

Could you please put
the armchair there for me?

Like this?

Yes.

Will you bring me that bag over there?

- The big one?
- Yes, that one.

Wow, it's heavy!

I'll show you the pieces I used.

One of the dresses I wore was this one,
for the parties.

Red and black.

- Is it leather?
- It's leather.

There were many pieces...

Do you think it'll fit me?

I don't think you'll have to wear it.

This piece here you'll use on the slave.

You'll put it in the mouth

and there's a little tube
that you attach here,

which connects straight to the member.

He will urinate and be
forced to drink his own urine.

I sold most of what I had to dominants.

Then I kept some that were
more interesting, more classic,

that weren't sold here in Brazil.

Because I knew that someday someone would
be interested in taking over my position.

I was going to hand it down
to some dominatrix, see?

So this one is placed on the
member and tied at the back.

It's a more modern
type of a devil's harness.

This is a...

This is a muzzle.

- What is it called?
- A muzzle.

You put it on like this
and tie it at the back

so the slave can't speak.

So this one you put on the nipples.

She isn't cut out to be a dominatrix.

You have to put this one on the nipple,
but the moment you do that,

you take a deep breath and
throw your conscience out.

How do I do that?

Indeed, it takes spiritual strength.

At that moment I am no longer Edivina,
I am Wilma Azevedo.

And Wilma Azevedo
is not afraid of anything,

she is not disgusted with anything…

You have to do everything
that could please the person

who chooses you as a dominatrix.

I find masochists very creative.

Whatever they look at, they figure
out a way to be tortured with it.

Whatever they look at,
they come up with something.

This one is a popular utensil in Germany,
I guess you've seen it.

- For cutting eggs?
- Yes. You know it.

He saw it there and thought it
would make a good torturing tool,

to put it around the
member and then press it.

And it really squeezes the member.

You must have a lot of sensitivity.
In order not to hurt too much, right?

No, you can't hurt too much.

I made this one myself.

It's nice!

To perform in public, to be photographed.

It was… symbolism right?

I hardly used this whip.

It's too light, eh?

This one I bought in front
of the Louvre museum,

there was a man selling it.

Yeah, there are amazing stores in France.

There are! So, he was selling it and

I liked it and bought it.

It reaches far in the distance.

Did you learn how to use it?

No.

But at Dominna Club,
they used this whip a lot,

to make demonstrations... it works well.

This is the most symbolic one.

There was a shoemaker in São
José dos Campos who was very poor.

So I asked him to make many of them, based
on several models that I'd seen abroad.

This is one of them. There were others,
I don't know where they are…

It's well-finished,
well done. Once he got curious,

"But where do you take all these whips?"

I was selling them, right?

- Like this?
- Yes.

In my pictures I'm... in that one there,
look.

It also protects you, right? I had it on
there. Sometimes I wore it upside down.

This one should fit you.

It's the alarm. I have to turn it off.

Cut! Bring me my handbag.

It's my medication.

For what?

High blood pressure.

Do you have high blood pressure?

I am hypertensive.

Be quiet. Do as I say!

My name is Edivina Azevedo Ribeiro,
I'm 74 years old.

I was born in São José dos Campos,
I'm a journalist and a writer.

I created the character Wilma
Azevedo to be part of all my erotic,

sometimes even pornographic narratives.

As I studied sadomasochism,

this character lived on because
Edivina is too sublime to write erotica.

And Wilma is vile (vil) and bad (má), and
being vile and bad I could write anything.

My mother had made a
promise to the divine holy spirit.

If the delivery went well -
she was 42 years old when I was born -

after 17 children she'd had,
I was the tenth to be born alive.

She said that she was going
to name me Divina (divine),

and the registry officer added an
"e" at the beginning, to my relief.

Even so, the boys would always shout,
"Hey, Divine Holy Spirit,"

because I was very playful and energetic.

They called me that and I hated it.

Around that time I was already curious
about how we came into the world.

So I was playing with a cat and my mother
said, "Let the cat go, she's pregnant!"

I asked her, "What's pregnant?"

"Oh, you're too young to know!"

There - it aroused
my sexological sensitivity.

When I saw a smaller
opening and a liquid trickling out,

I was astonished to know that it was
through it that we came into the world.

When my sister arrived from school, I
asked her, "Do you know how we are born?"

She said no. I said,
"It's through there," I explained.

Then she said, "You're a liar,
you're always making up things."

She even wanted to knock on my head,
which was usual then, right?

So I ran off, thinking, "Fine,
I'll leave her in her ignorance!"

But I kept searching for
more information about it…

Then I saw some kittens
sucking on their mother,

and I thought "It would be
nice if they sucked on me."

So I poured sugary milk on myself
and put the little critters on top of me.

I really liked how
their rough tongues felt.

A child's play, I was so innocent.

But I was afraid someone would see me,

so I made a tent with some blankets
that were lying on a horse cart,

and I sneaked under them with the kitten.

I was taking great pleasure in it,

and there was a tear in the blanket
that was shaped like a triangle.

I looked and there was
an eye there staring at me.

I put the kitten down and went looking
for the person who'd been peeking at me.

My brother was helping
my father build a wall.

My mother was crocheting.

My sister was sorting
beans in the kitchen,

I walked past her but
she didn't even look up.

I wondered, "Who could it be? There
was someone, an eye on that triangle."

Then I went to the church, which at
the time was the church of Saint Anthony,

where there was a picture with a
huge triangle and an eye inside it.

Then I thought,
"Is this eye that was watching me?"

I asked the catechist,
"Whose eye is this?"

She said,
"It's God's. God sees us wherever we are.

He is omnipresent and omniscient.

He sees everything you do. So,
if you're going to do first communion,

you have to tell the priest everything."

And I thought, "So it was him who saw me,
what a prankish god, he is!"

And I promised never to do it again.

One day I was tending my
little plants in the garden,

and two nuns came and
asked to speak to my mother.

They told my mother that they were looking
for girls who wanted to go to school

at the São José Institute of Education.

I had no interest in
what they were saying,

but then she told my
mother that they put on plays

on Mothers' Day, at Easter,
and other holidays...

That they had a drama club…
There - she'd said the magic word!

I let go of the plants and asked the nun
if I went there, if I would be an artist…

"Of course, you can join the drama club!"

So I packed and went with the nun,
I didn't understand much.

When the nuns walked by me and said,
"Praised be Our Lord Jesus Christ,"

I had to answer,
"Forever may He be praised."

I was like, "Oh, okay."

The girls will sing hymns,
dressed as flowers,

and you'll walk among them
with a basket full of roses

and they will pick up the roses
and hand them to their mothers,

who will walk up to the
stage to receive them."

I was so happy in that crepe paper skirt.

I was the florist and
they were the flowers.

I was carrying the basket,

but no-one told me that at the
bottom there was a can full of water,

so the flowers wouldn't wilt.

They should have removed that can,
but hadn't, so as I walked,

water kept dripping down my paper skirt,
leaving me naked on the stage.

Everyone was laughing
and I didn't know why.

Then I looked down and saw my bare legs,

and the nun pulled me off the
stage and never gave me a part again.

On my honeymoon,
I was not having fun at all.

We were in Caraguatatuba, a seaside town.

It was in a hotel, the Sao Antao Hotel.

When we arrived at the hotel, there
were 5 other couples on their honeymoon.

I thought they looked so happy.

But when I was with him,

he would come, do it,
turn on his side and sleep.

I didn't find it pleasurable at all.

I didn't understand why those girls
on their honeymoon looked so happy.

One day they invited us to go to
Sino Rock, there in Caraguatatuba.

So I said, "Let's walk along the beach,
pick up some shells."

And we went. Then suddenly
I felt like skinny-dipping.

It was a deserted beach,
no one would see, right?

But he didn't want to. Then I took off
his shorts, dragged him into the water,

and when we were in, I started to curl
up around him, and he got a hard-on.

When we reached the sand, I threw him
on the ground and climbed on top of him,

and when I started to rub myself on him,
I had an orgasm.

I didn't know what that was.

I was startled when I
felt that sensation surging

and suddenly I felt the most
delicious thing in the world.

I had never heard of an orgasm.

I was so happy, but he was enraged,

because I was doing a
sexual act in broad daylight,

naked on the beach, thinking it
was beautiful… He was so angry.

We had a bar in the central market,
and I made a lot of snacks for the bar.

I needed someone to help
me with the small children,

so I brought a young girl in, she came
to my house when she was 8 years old.

She was an ugly duckling,
her clothes were so shabby.

I fixed the little girl up and
when she grew a little older,

she had very thick eyebrows,
at the time we wore them really thin.

So I plucked her eyebrows.

She had straight hair, and a
product to do perms had just come out.

I rolled up her hair and permed it.

All I know is that I
prettied that girl up,

and after three years she was in my house
I found out she was my husband's lover.

I felt really, really angry...

Then I remembered that the only weapon

I could bury deep within
him was a barbecue skewer.

So I started looking for that skewer,
but I didn't know where it was.

It was an iron skewer.

I started throwing everything out of
the cupboards down onto the floor,

yelling "You pig, you piece of shit!"

I was bursting with anger.

When my sister saw me, she was desperate.

She said, "You'll end up killing each
other. Look, I'll talk to Mom and Dad,

I'll take your kids,
and you go to São Paulo,

to Ana's place, you get a job there,
you do the same as she did.

You get your life together there,
and then you come get the kids."

What made me the angriest
was my father saying,

"Men are like that, you must accept it,

"men are no good,
they can't have only one woman in life."

It was the time when
I most wrote in my life,

I wrote essays, short stories, poems...

I wrote and wrote and wrote and stored
it all in a chest that I still have.

I think you saw it in my house.

I was looking for a
job but I had no degree.

I'd only had elementary school education.

At that time they already
asked for a high-school diploma.

So it was hard. At last I found a job

showcasing a little
machine called Maninha.

I wore a polyester uniform,
it was very elegant.

I went to a hairdresser school every day

to have my hair done
and I paid nothing for it.

When I got to work I had
to stand in a shop window,

I turned on a machine

and it filled with water

and washed clothes.

I was hired to do a
demonstration of the little machine.

I thought it was beautiful,
I felt like an artist.

I stamped on a wet towel on the sidewalk
and then threw it into the machine.

And within minutes -

of course, it was just dust - I would
take out the towel that was filthy before,

and I would show it and say,
"Look how efficient the machine is!"

and I would say everything
that was scripted for me to say.

Good morning.

Hi, darling. How are you?

I was in São Paulo doing this job
and one day I looked at the people there

and he was standing among them.

My husband, right there.

Then I walked out of the window,

he invited me for lunch,
and he asked me to come back home.

We'd been separated for five months.

I said, "Look, I don't want to go back.

"But I'll think about it,"
for the children's sake,

who were staying at my sister's.

And I was having a hard time finding a
place for me and the kids in São Paulo.

But in the meantime,
one day I was coming down the stairs,

and I saw a man standing
at the bottom ogling me.

When I reached the bottom he said,
"You look like my sister."

Then he showed me a
picture of the woman...

She was blonde like me,
but we didn't look alike at all.

Then he said that he was shopping here in
Brazil

and asked if I'd have lunch with him.

During lunch, he held my hand,

he kept caressing
it, and we arranged to go out at night.

Then, when we were having sex, he was on
top of me and he started to slap my face.

I was frightened by that,
I said, "Stop, stop it!"

But when I looked at him he
was pale and his lips were purplish.

So I jumped out of bed and went into
the bathroom, naked. It was freezing cold.

He kept knocking on the door "Come out,
now!"

And I was afraid to go out, I was crying
in there, then after about 40 minutes,

I said, "I'm only leaving here if
you call the doorman and his wife."

Then when I left, I felt free on the
street. I was afraid he'd come after me.

So I left for my sister's place, thinking,
"What am I doing here in São Paulo?"

And three days later
the newspapers reported

that a prostitute had been strangled to
death with the cord of a floor polisher.

There was a picture
of her killer in the paper,

and, though his face was turned
to the side, I could tell it was him.

And it was one of the reasons why I
decided to go back home. First, to study.

To have an occupation. If
he didn't change his ways,

I'd go back to São
Paulo with the children,

I'd leave that small town

and get on with my life.

When I got my diploma,
I was afraid to show it to him.

So I stuck it behind a painting,
which I still have.

The typing diploma on the back,
and that figure on the front,

a man looking at the sea at dusk.

It's beautiful.

"SAD QUEENS WHO DREAMS", BY EDIVINA

I'M NOT A HAPPY WOMAN. I GOT MARRIED
AT 18, WAS A MOTHER AT 19 AND THEN 22.

I was young, I was 23 years old. I
had decolored my hair for the first time.

My hair was really blond and long,
and I set it with rollers.

At night I removed the rollers

and looked at him, for him to say,
"You look beautiful."

And he said, "You look like a whore."

Then I said, "Then I'll be a whore."

Then I got to this office, they told me
that the doctor was young and handsome.

I didn't know him, I'd never seen him.

So I got there and he was very handsome,
of Turkish descent…

I paid the doctor's fee,

I entered the room, I sat down...

I'd practiced what I was going to say,
but at the time I just said,

"Doctor, I need a sexual act
for you to tell me how I am,

"because my husband says that..."

I kept on talking, "He always
says that I am too wide, too wet...

"I think I was damaged
after my children were born."

Then he got up, locked the door,
and walked towards me.

I didn't even lie down,
we did it standing up.

He penetrated me and he pulled it out soon
afterwards,

he handed me a towel, I wiped myself.

He cleaned himself in the sink.

Then I sat down and asked,
"Doctor, what do you think?"

He said,
"You're normal…" "But I get so wet!"

He said, "You should be glad,
that's called smegma,

which the body releases to prepare
the woman to receive the member.

If you didn't have it, you'd be very
dry. It'd hurt the man, it'd hurt you.

God makes things perfect.
Not all women have smegma.

It's preparing you for pleasure."

In a women's magazine, I saw a call:

"Whoever has a short story lying around,

send it to us to
participate in a contest."

I had lots of stories lying in my chest,
so I chose one that I liked,

rewrote it and sent it to the magazine.

I got first place. Then I said, "Wow,
they give away prizes. Let's go claim it."

We got to the office and met the editor,
Ignácio de Loyola Brandão.

He gave me the prize -
100,000 cruzeiros. It was a lot of money.

He handed it to me and said, "We have
received more than eighty short stories

that were very well-written,

with perfect spelling and grammar,
clean-typed, beautiful.

But they don't have the talent you have.

You wrote in hand, full of mistakes,
but you have talent.

And you must fight for your talent. When
he said that, I left there feeling grand.

And with those 100,000 in my pocket
I took my children to a jewelry store

and spent it all on jewelry
for them and for myself.

We had such a blast! It was the
first time I could give them something

and pay with my own money.

Wanda, will you bring me the folder,
please?

Wow, it's heavy.

Look, this is when I wrote as a
journalist in São José dos Campos.

They are praising me,
saying that I had a lot of talent,

that talent is something
that only God can give.

I am tree time, and halt in
the middle of life, I dare to exist.

Unaware that the power of the press was
waning, that the press was being gagged,

I kept talking, pressing the mayor.

Then he called the
owner of both newspapers

and said that if they didn't fire me,

he wouldn't open official
press bids any more.

And the newspapers lived off them.

So I was fired,
with a husband paralyzed on a bed.

Because my husband had
had a stroke at 41 years old.

At the time of his stroke I was 31,
he lasted 10 years on a bed.

From my 31 to my 41 years of age, the time
a woman is at the peak of her sex drive,

I looked after a sick husband
and two small children.

I worked for many newspapers,
many magazines, earning little.

I was unemployed for long periods,

until I was hired by Bloch
to work for Amiga magazine,

and I was already planning to
transfer to Manchete magazine

when I found out that the
erotica segment paid better.

And I had to write about something that
no other journalist was talking about.

I'd spotted Man magazine in the
newsstands, it had amazing personal ads,

and I started replying to
those ads very creatively,

telling them what they liked to hear, I
created scenes as if it was a short story…

And I started to receive letters.

So I wrote the first article for Ele e
Ela magazine, which is this one here:

"Confessions of a Sadomasochist",

with photos by Isabel Stasiak,
an artist from that time.

Later I wrote this one,
"My Experiences with Sadists."

It came out in a small
publication inside Ele e Ela,

so heavy was the subject matter for them.

When we create based on a fantasy,
the images stick to our mind, don't they?

That's true.

And sometimes that's more intense
than having experienced something, right?

You said you didn't like it,
but the images stayed with you.

Didn't they torment you?

No, because they were not my fantasies,
they were the reader's fantasies.

He was the one who wrote me,
telling them to me.

He told them in letters and I
developed them in a short story.

But, for example, yesterday I was
just listening and I almost felt sick.

I almost excused myself,
because the images,

just from listening,
they popped up in my head.

There was no way to
get them out. I felt sick.

So I Imagine you living with
these images from others' fantasies.

Then I put everything on
paper. I sublimated it completely.

Sometimes I saw the finished story,
and I didn't even reread it.

Because I knew that what I put on paper,
I sublimated.

I sublimated all that.

And I would live a normal life,
as Edivina, a loving woman,

- No nightmares?
- Nothing at all.

Wilma has her normal life, the one
she was talking about, to separate,

to get inside the character,
to write, to put on paper.

If I get inside Wilma,
I am completely inside her,

not in the other part of her life.

I see.

But you can take a lighter story,
like foot fetishism,

and you enslave a foot fetishist,
which is very beautiful.

That has already happened to me.

- Without my realizing it.
- See?

A foot fetishist is very beautiful,
he surrenders to you.

He kisses your feet,
caresses you, buys you shoes.

So you can make up that image,

because when I was a girl I saw
in a book that we had, "Cinderella,"

I saw the prince kneeling, sliding
the slipper onto Cinderella's foot,

and I would show it to my sister and say,

"Look, how nice it must be to
have a man kneeling at your feet,"

but I didn't want him to just kneel,
I wanted to step on his member.

I wanted him on her knees, naked.

Then I had an idea, I went to shoe stores,

chose a shoe,
and the man came and kneeled.

And I kept imagining him naked.

So when I had my first relationship with a
foot fetishist,

I found it easy to do that.

Because it was already a fantasy of mine.

Then I delved deep into it. So you can
first do a scene with a foot fetishist...

and you won't need to have full sex,

because he'll kiss your feet,
you'll rub them on his member, he'll cum.

That's it. You don't have to
do the banana thing right away.

"In the name of Jesus, I'm talking to you.

Jesus's blood is powerful. Now
you will hear me, come to the front!"

That gave me a horrible chill.

For god's sake, in a place like
that you play with Jesus' name?

It's one of the first
commandments of the Bible,

"You shall not misuse the
name of the lord your god."

Then the next day I went looking
for a church and I became a believer

and was baptized in the waters and told
the waters to wash Wilma Azevedo away.

And I walked out as Edivina.

And when I didn't want to write
as Wilma Azevedo anymore,

I knew I was going to lose my job,
because Edivina had no

projection whatsoever as a journalist.

And when I saw the transvestite
play with Jesus' name…

I even made a vow of poverty if need be.

Not to write anything else,
nor sell my books.

To abandon erotica and
the pornographic milieu.

I knew, at the time I spoke to our Lord,
that if I had to live in a favela

because I couldn't pay rent,
that he would open the doors for me.

And I went to live in the
favela of Manguinhos,

because although there
was drug dealing there,

it was less intense than in Jacarezinho,
the one next to it.

I started to watch the film,

and there on the screen those
fat drops of rain began to fall

and suddenly I heard a noise
and looked out the window

and the rain had transferred
to the favela of Manguinhos.

I grabbed a lot of things,
all unnecessary stuff.

At the time, I didn't think the water

would reach a meter and a
half high inside my little house.

Everything I had,
Wilma Azevedo's most important things,

pictures of artists who
wanted to be my slaves,

of big-shot politicians, and letters from
everybody inviting me to this and that.

All the evidence I had for me to
say today that I would be a millionaire

if I was a crook was
washed away in the flood.

All I was left with was a bed,
made of iron with golden friezes.

I think you've seen it in my place.

I liked it when I tied up my
slaves. Because it has lots of...

- What do you call them?
- Corners.

Iron corners. They were good for bondage.

As a Christian I did exactly
what the Bible says, right?

I did it all,
I even gave a lot to the Church, see?

I sold a land plot for 10,000, I gave away
one thousand, which is the Church's 10%.

The pastor was very pleased.

But I heard about all the
thievery by these pastors.

Everyone who ran the story proved the
veracity of it all, it really upset me.

So I stopped going for a while, and I
became aware that my god is within me.

My body is my church now.

Do you still have orgasms?

I do. A lot.

And has anything changed?

For the better.

Experience teaches us about what we like,
what we don't like,

what will turn us on, what won't.

Thank God!

I didn't imagine, either, that at this age

I would still have the
orgasms that I have.