Women's PSI - I'm bound for NYC

Women's Power, Surrender & Intimacy in New York City, June 20-22

After an absence of several years this powerful exploration into the nature of trust, exquisite attention and heightened sensations returns. Join with like-minded women who are ready to go beyond the life ordinary.

In a grounded, respectful container discover and clarify edges of liberation, empowerment and embodiment. Learn to recognize aspects of yourself that are continually engaged in power dynamics, and hence become more choiceful about how you can share power with compassion and skill. Led by Alex Jade.

I am absolutely thrilled to be going to the Body Electric School's course on Power, Surrender and Intimacy! I've been searching for a plane ticket and sorting things out at work and at home - It's time to hit the road again. Of course you will all be aware of my true need for travel and adventure and this weekend trip hits the spot - a sexuality workshop that promises to take me "beyond the life ordinary."

I have work off, and I don't have to come back until Tuesday night so I have all day Monday to gallavant around town! Hoorah! I'm truly excited to exercise my bottomy tendencies and explore the power of give-and-take, and that delicate balance of consent. Wahoo!

My answers

Trey wrote:

On Saturday, be prepared to explain to me the following:
1) why, do you believe, you have chosen to be submissive?
2) do your submissive desires conflict with your feminist views and values?
3) what do you expect of a dominant?

Here are my answers for this afternoon:

1) I did not choose to be "submissive" - it becomes me. I like giving back, it's totally empowering, but acting the bottom is my "resting state." I'm interested in submitting because I like the exchange of power and I can say with certainty that I prefer the giving up of power, rather than the taking. I don't know why, that's just how it is.

2) My submissive desires may have actually resulted from my feminist leanings because the women who trained me - the writers, the professors, my own friends who encouraged me to grow into my body - they taught to me to want what I want and feel what I feel and throw off all shame and pursue freedom. Acting the bottom frees me.

3) I expect a dominant to be: respectful, patient, attentive and daring. I expect an effective safeword that I am allowed to use without feeling guilty; I expect aftercare and reverence.

Remember that lucky shirt with a neckline resembling the grand canyon? Trey says I'm to wear blue - that's blue, right? To wear an undershirt or not to wear an undershirt?

Not.

vacationing in the smokies

I guess I should also give a personal post. I have been in North Carolina visiting mum. The drive up with my brother, Mel, was uneventful. It was long, we stopped a lot, and we drove overnight. Somehow by the time it was my turn to drive I had been awake for 24 hours, so he took over after about an hour and I slept some more. We found mom in pretty good shape. I made a big pot of soup yesterday and I was supposed to cook again today, but instead, I went shopping and escaped the monotony of being couped up in the house with family. Went to the yarn shoppe and the fudge shoppe, the general store is next. I wanted to grab some local pottery, but the pottery store was closed. Winter hours are significantly reduced as the tourism in the area dies down a lot. I got about a week's worth of homework done, however I'm going to have to scrap the rest, since it's only 5 percent of my overall grade. My class participation and my paper are significantly more important. The rough draft for my paper (for which I have not even drafted a final thesis) is due on Tuesday.

I don't know how I'm going to get any homework done when I have two possible dates this weekend. One is with a person named Trey. I can't decide from our emails whether Trey is butch or trans, so I've resolved to find out at our visit to the coffee shop saturday night. I reposted my CL ad describing a kinky femme bottom and Trey's response was the third one. The first two were kinda tomboyish, but more toward the centre of the butch/femme scale. I passed up their offers because I felt like I might be a bit more aggressive than they would be - with me, that does not fly. I'm a live wire and I need someone who can match my wit and my attitude. Trey actually just graduated with an independent studies degree from my university last semester... In our e-mail conversations, I allowed try to request of me any desired attire, and I have 3 homework assignments, which I'll be sure to answer during my trip to the internet cafe tomorrow:

On Saturday, be prepared to explain to me the following:
1) why, do you believe, you have chosen to be submissive?
2) do your submissive desires conflict with your feminist views and values?
3) what do you expect of a dominant?

I met another stinkin' pot smoker too. She seems kinda nice. Dana. But I still don't think we're going to get a long. She works in a sandwich shop and is almost through with school. She's a cancer, which is my no-no sign, once again. (Speaking of canceres, Sandi, the trucker, finally got a real live girlfriend! Saved by an unfortunate, unsuspecting femme!) We'll probably end up friends more than anything...

Well. The drive home on Thursday is going to be interesting. I work 10 hours on Friday and then it's time to hit the books. And possible a masculine top. Hmmhm.

Miss Avarice, considering the recent events in her life, could really stand to be truly, utterly topped. Honest to goodness, I'm ready to pillow queen for a stone top. Practice my bottoming skills and not have to worry about whether I'm a good top or not. I'll be glad to feel irresistible again. Like a hot piece of ass.

Which I am, rest assured.

topping practice

Last night I learned that before me, Erin hasn't been with anyone since her last girlfriend. A year ago. I was surprised at first, but then again, it is really hard to meet someone in this town. We lay in her bed for a long time, watching a movie and I had my arm around her belly. I didn't really take note of the details this time. I mostly topped. I know, right? The bottom topped? Yeah. My period wouldn't go away fast enough for any action.

"You know what I wanted to do last time?"
"What..?"
"I think I can put my hand inside you. See - right now, that's four fingers and my thumb inside you. It's not much further..."

She laughed. Said she'd never done that before. I still could have, it's totally possible, but I'm not going to press the issue. She was still swearing my expertise despite my constant confessions that she's the only one - literally, the one and only - to afford up the space of her sex to me. I had my left hand pressing down on her hair and softness, and my right hand warm and nestled inside her. I think maybe the favorite is that plus my mouth on her breast.

"ahh, I love your mouth on me"
"oh yeah?"
"yeah, suck on it, hmm"
I sucked greedily and hungrily, drawing into my mouth as much of her breasts as i could fit, sliding my tongue over and around her soft nipples. Her breasts are truly soft, I have never felt such soft, pillowy breasts before.

Later, after we had slept, I had a nightmare. I was running around trying to stop this man and woman from fighting. We were in an old house with several floors and fireplaces on each floor. He was angry and overstrong, and she couldn't get away from him. I was trying to tell her how to get away but she didn't listen to me. She jumped down the fireplace, down the chimney to escape, but her hand got caught on something and it stopped her fall, and jerked her head snapped her spinal cord or whatever and died instantly. I know that's totally unrealistic, but that is what happened in my dream. I think it has to do with my worry about Delilah and her gentleman friend. My dream was nothing at all like her situation, but I had been overthinking it earlier in the evening, praying for her and hoping for peace and clarity of mind. I woke up to use the bathroom and when she got back from the bathroom after me, I told her about it. I forget she's not from the south, she's not very comforting. And I haven't yet decided if I like to be comforted or not. Sometimes it suffocates me, and sometimes I need it. I didn't really need it I guess, or I would have asked. I spent most of the night as the big spoon and it was nice because I got to scratch and rub her back.

Maybe it's just me, or maybe it's Erin, but the fragrance of dried roses lingers on my fingers. I found it there on my way home, the rich, sweet smell of dried roses.

Erin with a capital oooaaaaahhh

Featured in Fleshbot Sex Blog Roundup: Not So Careless Whispers and also in Sugasm #119

she let me in, easy - one, two, three? no. four fingers. dripping, but no lube. to my third knuckle. it could have been more, i could have fisted her, but it wasn't on the menu last night. maybe sometime. if we ever do this again. i could smell her body wanting. pressing my fingers in, and learning how to position my thumb just right on her clit. this is the first time anyone has permitted me to touch back below the waist. a privilege. a treat.

I arrived on the scene at 10:00 not sure where I was supposed to go. Drove around a little while in the general vicinity of the neighborhood sports bar where she wished to meet me. 10:30 passed, 11:00 passed, I started texting a friend, "I think I might be getting stood up..." at 11:30, I was on my way to said friend's house for a minute, I figured I'd wait until twelve and then leave - that's when she called. Erin is 30 years old, turning 31 when Pisces season comes around again (soon). She is originally from Michigan, and moved here with her best friend (a brother figure, gay) four years ago. Not here, here. She lives in the beach towns west of me. I knew she wanted to meet me, so I was puzzled by the delay, but it was simply that she was working and couldn't get out.

It was a very simple bar, filled with regular, uncomplicated people and I immediately felt at home. That's what Erin is like. Regular, uncomplicated, easy to please. Her gender is lacking all the pomp and circumstance, the air of performance that many butches possess. To their credit, all of gender is constructed and performed, but sometimes I get the feeling that they're trying too hard. Perhaps they just get all tangled up in that big bad word, "enough."

Not Erin, nosirree. Erin is a simple. A teddy bear. All she has in her room is a little TV, her bed, and quilt that her grandma gave her. I didn't see the blanket until morning light filtered through the hazy clouds of an early storm. I looked to the seams to confirm my suspicion - a handmade quilt. I told her how my mother had once made quilts and how a little piece of the person who makes the quilt always gets left inside it. They takes so long to make, cutting little shapes to sew into squares, sewing the squares together with borders, sewing a border around the edge, and finally putting the batting and backing on. It's a very intimate process. And it is her favorite blanket. She doesn't even know who made it - her grandmother didn't.

We had a few drinks - I had an amaretto sour, a whiskey sour and washed it all down with a shot of goldschlager [the goldschlager was optional, I was already relaxed but I was not drunk until I had that shot).

Wait a minute. Pause the scene. I've talked to this girl one time on the phone, this is the first time I've ever met her. It's that instinctive, incautious trust again that is probably going to get me in trouble someday... but is it really all that hard to judge character?

As we were paying our bills, she and the best friend (Matt) started asking me if I had called any friends to say where I was going to be. They offered to give their address so that I could text it to someone - so they would know where I was going to spend the night. I had already convinced myself that it was a good idea and that I should definitely go home with this big sweetheart of a girl and her weird old best friend.

At their apartment (above a garage) Matt went directly to bed and Erin left me on the couch to simmer while she showered. She was tired from a long day working at the hardware store so I was thankful that she took the time to shower. With her in PJ's, we sat on the couch watching TV and I took the liberty of curling myself on the couch and putting my head on her lap. She reached down and was stroking my back, lifting my shirt to reach my soft back skin. yeah. I had already decided that I liked her face and I was started to like her personality so that was that.

I was very drunk (thank you goldschlager!) now and I took very careful steps to get into the bedroom. The details are lost on me at the moment... we lay down facing each other, talking. I don't even remember about what. I kissed her first. The tongue ring. I completely forgot about the tongue ring! A nice surprise. I did a preliminary sweep, feeling for nipples and tissue in the dark. Her breasts were a perfect handful, and so soft. "Do you want to feel how much I'm enjoying this?" Erin took my left hand and pulled it down below her navel and in under the boxer briefs to her seething cunt. Seething like the sea - so wet. And here is where she opened for me. Freely, she allowed me, encouraged me to explore inside her. I'm spoiled now, because now I know how good it feels to be inside and I'm going to start wanting in more often.

"You're sure you've never done this before?"
"Nope. No one has ever let me."

We talked it over last week, when I was trying to determine her level of interest in a sexual encounter. I had already explained that I have strictly bottomed, although not without some accidental takeovers for which I had to be punished. After awhile of my four fingers and thumb getting acquainted with what goes where, we switched. I was just as wet as she and it felt so very nice. She sensed when I had been satisfied, and I enjoyed it, really, but then I started crying. I hate to say again, but it's appropriate. Crying again. I've come to take this as my normal reaction to penetration. Also, I get so close to having an orgasm every time but it's like a puzzle missing a piece, it's like looking through a glass window at something that you can see but can't touch. It's like chasing the sun. I didn't cry for long though. I apologized and she said it was okay. I said, "I just do this, I just cry..." gah. I was pleased though, and I took over the top again.

This time, with only two fingers inside, I worked Erin's wet, open cunt and making things up as I went along - imagining rhythms and patterns to her delight. Swearing that I was not in fact a beginner, that I was indeed a seasoned veteran, she came, grinding on my hand and gave a hearty, healthy, "haaah" before she pulled my hand out, off and pulled me close to her, breathing. I sighed, "I love bodies. There's nothing that makes me more angry than when people who have trouble loving their shape." We agreed that was a travesty, and that we loved our bodies. They awoke me at 8:30 to take me back to my car so that I could make my way across the bridge and back to my warm bed.

I'm ever so delighted to have seen a stranger receive a gift of joy. I don't know if it was well timed, or if it had been a long time since her last, but it gives me great pleasure to know that I have treated Erin to a little bit of sweetness and put a smile on her face.

Curvaceous Kinky Femme Bottom - Interested Yet?

As you might have gathered from the title, I'm an engaging and motivated femme who's looking for a little bit of butch class to take things up a notch. You should be decidedly masculine, intelligent, and very confident in yourself. I'm looking for someone who dresses sharp and knows how to treat a lady in public and in private. I'm a curvy, kinky bottom who sometimes needs to be put back in her place - are you comfortable with that? Age isn't a big issue, but I would prefer someone younger than my mother, please! Race is a social construction, so forget that as well. Interest in music, writing, or the arts is a plus. I'm a gemini so you will probably want to be a good communicator and have a sense of humor and of adventure. Not looking for anything serious, so let's just see where the wind takes us.

No men. No u-hauls. No ex-girlfriend drama. NO femmes!

Please send a photo and a brief description of yourself. What is your favorite fruit, color or body part? Who, or what inspires you? If you could live anywhere than here, where would it be? I await your response.

Can I just say that Craigslist sucks down here. Sucks badly. All the girls are bi - and not just purely bisexual, but bi-curious which means that they'll never date women and probably have boyfriends on the side. Is it not clear from this ad that I want someone masculine? Did I not say "butch," "masculine," and "NO femmes!"? Every fricken time I post, the only answers I get are from femmes. My best luck finding butches on CL is to respond to the posts they write. Today I got a response from a femme top and from a porn company in central Florida looking for models for heterosexual scenes. Um. No.

Maybe all the butches have "ex-girlfriend drama" and that's why they don't respond?

I do have a date for next Wendesday with Erin, 30, originally from Michigan, a Pisces like my gay boy. And! I have a friendly outing (I don't think it's a date?) with Kelly for the upcoming Ani Difranco concert. It's been 5 years, almost exactly, since I saw her last. I'll be so glad to be in the presence of righteous babes once again.

first date ever, take 3

i'm nervous. what should i wear? what should i say? what shouldn't i say? should i smile? i don't like my smile. should i make the moves or do i let her do it? sounds like she's one of those shy ones in public that gets toppy in private:

i sent a text to her this evening.

"top or bottom?"
"top"
"bottom"
"sounds like we'll work perfectly"
"that remains to be determined"

she's quite chatty. she mentioned in passing, "i'm looking for a fuck" which could be good, i'm glad that i didn't take her for a hopeless romantic although that may still be the case. i'm not into romantics. they make me feel uncomfortable.

went out with an old friend who's moving back to town from a breakup. if the Ex of hers gets a new roommate, she may have enough money to move in with me in March. otherwise I may need to get a one bedroom. so far, I qualify for low income housing which is interesting. I've always known I was the low-income type but I never accepted it. I have this picture of my family as being gentility when my dad's side of the family is of notoriously ill repute and my mother's side keeps secrets. Hmm.

new and improved

I had quality time tonight with my favorite butch couple (whose pet femme I seem to have become!) - I listened in on gay women's choir rehearsal and then we went out for supper, dessert and drinks. Well, technically I'm the only one who drank. I had a very sweet sangria that required a pint of beer to wash down all the sugary ick. We retired to the apartment so I could meet their new (cat) babies - I'll call them Mademoiselle (girl, French accent, bitchy) and Papito (a lover boy with a Spanish accent).

But that is not why I am writing now. I'm writing because tonight we discovered my new favorite sex toy, and one which I will need to purchase straight away.

Feather Cat Teaser


Kay's has a little jingle bell on the feather end, too. Somehow, and I don't remember how, I ended up getting whapped in the ass with the feather/bell end and it was a magnificent surprise that warranted squirming, and a happy groan. The bell gives a very sharp sting that goes away quickly, kinda like wasabi - hot for a second, but then it's just savory. The feathers were great for tickling my sides and my back. I'm ticklish in all the wrong spots, though. My lower back isn't ticklish but whenever the feathers passed over my sides, I gasped a quick "ooh!" The sting of the switch is my favorite, though.

Later, I convinced the two of them to cuff me behind my back - finally! I've owned the cuffs for three weeks, now! It was only for like 2.5 minutes, but it certainly put a smile on my face. They started out with some lighthearted flogging (I'm still disappointed - it doesn't hurt!), and then went on to really smack the hell out of my ass. First with one hand, then with two at once! Ouch! They sent me home alone, all hot and bothered. Per the usual.

One of these days, man. One of these days.

studious

I've been engaged in a (very academic, intellectual) study of topping and bottoming lately. Translated into plain English, that just means I've been watching a lot of butch top/femme bottom porn.

But it's always these little things about the scenes that I notice, that really get to my spirit. Especially in real-life couples who are deeply communicative. For example, there's one I've encountered where the femme bottom is kneeling, giving the strapped butch top a blow job. This would be a very ordinary scene if it weren't for the fact that they were holding hands.

They were holding hands.

In another scene that's been completely rocking my world lately the butch barks out several commands, the femme obeys beautifully, then the butch says, "thank you". That gives me chills, it just hits me in an lovely, odd way.

"head down" --- "thank you"
"legs up" --- "thank you"
"more, more" --- "thank you"

Later, she said, "tell me what you want" (paraphrased: ask for what you want) and the femme gives her request ("please I want your face in my pussy" prettily) and then gets complimented on it "yes, that's very nice". Later, struggling to get her whole hand to get in and stay in, the top gives the bottom a fierce look and says, "NO - hold on to it!" If I were being ordered around, I would want to be thanked for being obedient. And I would want to be pushed to my limits with insistent commands because she knows what I really want. A polite, a generous, a careful top that cradles the bottom's vulnerability in her arms.

She says "thank you".

I want to learn from these fucken hot femme bottoms how they "do it". I want to be a good bottom, I want to react with my voice and my body. These femmes aren't afraid or shy to let out these wonderfully loud, deep, gutteral, passionate sounds and I think I'm rather afraid of making noise. But I don't want it like that.

I want it loud and courageous.

stripped

I didn't think I was going to go through with it! I thoroughly expected myself to be lying home moping at 2 in the morning wishing that I'd been courageous. I skipped the flogger and cuffs, decided that might be overkill for this particular occasion. When I got out of work, I called my host to see if I should still attempt to make an appearance at the party. She said the party was still hopping, and sounded quite friendly (that was the first time we'd spoken by phone) and cheerful so that gave my bravery a kick start. I arrived and I was totally weirded out by all the strangers - I knew absolutely no one. [I was wearing my pinstripe pants and a black button-down shirt and my big pearls (not the little ones) so I was fully covered - the invitation promised that those not wearing a costume would be stripped upon arrival!] Tried to look around for her, tried to make a friend or something but nothing was working out, when a surly character appeared and said hey. I lifted the hat atop a smiling face and recognized Jenn - the first time I get to meet her face to face and she's cross dressing (in a tongue-in-cheek kinda way, it's a costume). Eye-liner mustache was starting to wear off but she smiled and grabbed me a Blue Moon from the fridge by which I was standing, said, "this is my sister!" pointing to a masqued figure, and then rushed off to care for some sickly guests out on the front lawn. I only spoke to her - and only briefly, a sentence or two - about 4 times for the hour and a half I was there. But that's okay. I found that smiling and having an open posture made it easy for people to approach me, or to be comfortable around me. The third time we bumped into each other I said...

"I am wearing a costume, you know."
"What? What kind of a costume is that?"
"Well... you promised me I'd be stripped at the door..."
"Ah, I see, well if your costume's under there, why don't you take off your clothes?"
"Come on, you know bottoms don't undress themselves!"
"Like this..."

She started to unfasten the buttons of my shirt, and called to a girl nearby, saying "come on over, we've got to strip this one!"

"You missed me at the door!" I said. They slipped the shirt off my shoulders revealing the black corset and all my pale skin and cleavage. The accomplice said, "Well, you can keep your undies on - are you wearing any?" I nodded yes. "Are you sure we can take off your pants?" How could I pass that one up? "I'll be terribly disappointed if you don't" I pouted. She said, "Ok Jenn I'm going to need your help on this one!" They unbuttoned, unclasped, unzipped my slacks and started pulling them down my thighs, uncovered the lacy band of thigh high fishnet stockings and the shiny black boy-short panties... down, down to my knees, down to my ankles, they struggled to get them over the heels of my shoes, but finally oh finally I was free! In the living room in front of a bunch of strangers. [Wow, am I a little bit of an attention whore? Yeah... guilty as charged] And that is how I spent the rest of the night. Corset, panties, stockings, heels. And so cleverly disguised by my "work clothes". I got what I wanted out of the evening, and said, wow, now that I'm in my real costume I need another beer. The second one tasted almost as good as the first.

Finally around 3:30 Jenn said she was headed for bed. No joke, I'd be exhausted, too. We hugged and I sent her off to bed and went to the car to come home.

Analysis: Jenn's sister called me amazing, she had encouraged me to take off my own clothes earlier, but that's not how I wanted it. I need to start claiming the word amazing for myself. I sit in it like a robe and it suits me. I am amazing. Also, I created Miss Avarice in hopes of recreating myself. Her adventures are looking increasingly similar to mine. I'm becoming Miss Avarice. Hah! Also, I'm still trying to figure out why I'm more comfortable with someone else taking my clothes off rather than me doing. I thought it had to do with bottoming, but now feel like it's a weakness that I need to overcome - that maybe I'm deficient if I can't take off my own clothes in front of someone else. I can. But I much much prefer to be undressed by someone else... weird.

oh, fuck

oh. my. god.
miss avarice. has been kissed.
like really kissed.
like.
she had her tongue in my mouth,
and when she took it out

i wanted it back.


this was after she took my shirt off. at the bar. everyone else chickened out. i asked Ica to do it, and she just giggled and said she couldn't. Mel and Cin didn't want to interfere. so Ica, meddlesome Cancer. says to Diane.

Wait first let me describe Diane to you. about my height. butch. brown hair. slim but not tiny. i think she's a bit older than me? butch hands. *ughm* ("my nails are short because I work in construction." "Riiight... just like my nails are short because I'm a musician!") She's a little bit taken. She's very handsome in a striped polo.

So Ica said to Diane, "Avarice has a question for you" and in my head I'm having an attack of shyness. ahh shit, now I have to say it to a stranger!

"Ica won't take my shirt off. Will you?"
"eh? that's it? - you pussies won't take off her shirt?"

She reached for the hem of my shirt.

"Just the top one! I have another underneath!" I explained. Grinning. Shy
"I know baby, I know"

She pulled the black stretch-knit up, up to my shoulders, up over my head, taking expert precaution not to get my head stuck. She handed me my shirt back and I thanked her. She was topping. I was delighted. Still grinning like a fool, I sat back down at the table.

Sometime not long after that Ica dragged Diane away from the group (which is always a sure sign of gossip). She told her how I was kinda flipping out about my New York trip. How I didn't want to make a fool of myself by not knowing how to kiss, and blah blah blah. Long story short, she told Diane that she should kiss me. Protests about a girlfriend met a rebuttal about how "teaching" is different than making out. Uhm. I don't think that's true. But. Let's not get into the technicalities, mkay?

By this time my nose was going numb from one very stiff cosmo and one very tall shot of Goldschlager. Ica said,

"Diane's going to teach you how to kiss"
"Oh, thank God"

Except then, I got shy again and they had to lead me by the hand over to where she was talking to a gay boy at the bar. She put her arm around my shoulder and said, "where do you want to go?" I shrugged. She brought me back over to my bar stool and I sat down. "You've never kissed anyone before? Really?" Still shy, I shook my head "no". She drew her hands up to touch my face, gentle, holding the back of my head, fingers nestled in my hair. She touched her nose to mine. I think I almost lost it right there. She kissed me. Pulling on my lower lip... "How do I know I'm doing it right?"

"You are doing it right" She kissed me more and I couldn't contain a moan that had been welling up. She pushed her tongue past my nervous lips. This is the part that was new to me. "open up, sweetie." I did. I wanted it. I savored the texture of her tongue. It was rough and smooth at the same time. I was lost in want but she pulled back smiling and took the chair next to me. "I would kiss you more, but I feel kinda guilty..."

"There are no butches who are into femmes around here, they all just want each other!" (ok don't freak out, i love two butches together, i just want one for myself!) "Not me, here lemme show you my girlfriend. Femmes are my favorite." She showed me a picture...

"You are so shy! They told me that you weren't..." Oh Jesus, my reputation preceded me. "I'm only shy around new people. But once I get to know you..."

"You know I don't kiss just anybody."

I danced for her a little bit. She pulled on my pony tail. She ran her butch fingers up my back, over my shoulders and down my arms. I wanted her hands to be everywhere.

"So... do you ever uh... share?" she chuckled. "Oh no, I get in big, big trouble for talking to other girls" I grinned and leaned toward her ear.

"I like trouble."

Poll for the Bottoms

(still drunk)

So, as you can see on the left-hand-side-bar, the bottoms have taken the cake. I think there have been almost 5 new votes for "bottom" in the last week or so. Would you mind introducing yourselves and answering a question for me?

So. How the hell does one get "picked up" at a bar. As I have never experienced this, and would dearly love to experience it... can you leave me some pointers?

Thanks dollies!

bottoming is topping and vice versa

In a recent Sugarbutch treat, Sinclair has begun to sort through what it means to submit and surrender.

"the bottom is always the one in real control... the top may be inflicting the pain or sensation, may be the one holding the knife or the flogger or the end of the rope, but the bottom is who is dictating the next move, the depth of the cut, the strength of the paddle, the moment of release."

I don't have a whole lot of experiential knowledge to analyze. But I almost certainly ... ok certainly. Prefer the bottom. The idea of bottoming appeals to my sense of worth. It is not that I prefer the bottom because I want to be talked down to or degraded. What's actually behind it for me is the fact that i'm so irresistible that my top can't help but take me. Whether or not I'm really in control, at least that's how I perceive it. Like that bottom in The Diner on the Corner:

"She picked me up at the dyke bar last weekend while letting me think I was picking her up ... I thought I was warming her up to ask for her number, she was secretly rolling her eyes, thinking, get on with it already. She had control of every detail, but let me think I did."

But I'm not the type to take abuse from anyone. I learned to stand up to my Dad, and later I decided that there were a lot of people who needed to be held accountable to treat me respectfully.

I guess that was a lot of words to say that for me, yeah. Bottoming is about being in control. The submission is an illusion, a character that we play. We sneak in under cover and take control. I think that's part of why I have embraced the femme character too. In my world, the feminine is the heart and spine of the family. When everything else is broken down, including what is masculine, somehow the feminine has this amazing power to bounce back... to hold up everything that is crumbling... to know when to let go of something that cannot survive anymore.

What do you think?