Read in Episode #3 of The Sacred and Shameless Sexcast.

You come up behind me as I’m working in the kitchen, making us breakfast after our long night of play, my body still tingling from waking each other up this morning, and my ass still sore from the beating I received the night before. Not because I was bad, much to the contrary, you just know what I like, and you made me ask for it this time.

I can feel you approaching behind me, but I do nothing, I just wait for you to slip your arms around me, and you do. I feel your lips slide against my naked shoulder, move to kiss my neck softly, and I melt back against you, the knife I was chopping garlic with falling softly to the cutting board. I slide a hand back to slip into your hair as you kiss my soft flesh. I love the way you make me feel, even just with a kiss.

You lift your head and I feel one of your hands move from my waist. my own hand moves to pick up the knife, to resume making breakfast, but halts, hovering before it as your hand slips in my hair and tugs my head back, exposing more of my throat to you, exposing me to you, making me vulnerable. I’m glad that I hadn’t started cooking yet and was still chopping things as you came down the stairs.

I let out a soft sound of surprise and you tug me around, making me turn and face you. My head still slightly back, trying to look at you. I see a smile on your face as you lower your lips back to my neck and kiss it again softly, for a moment, before letting your teeth sink in to the soft tender flesh. I inhale sharply and exhale on a moan, pressing my body against yours as your teeth dig into my flesh. My hands reach behind me to find the counter, my eyes close, feeling the pain flood my body with pleasure.

You release my neck and my hair, moving to kiss me hungrily, our passion rising again, not long since the last time. The garlic and vegetables forgotten on the counter, you move me backwards out of the kitchen and to the side of the table, moving me so my back is against the wall and pressing your body against mine, trapping me there, your lips finding mine again, our tongues twirling, swirling, mingling together in a familiar dance. My hands moving, in the meantime, between our bodies, already aching for you, finding your cock with my hands and stroking it softly.

Slowly, you break the kiss, and press down against my shoulders, silently ordering me to my knees. I brace myself back against the wall and slide down against it, looking up at you as I do, one hand still stroking your shaft as I fall to my knees in front of you. I slip my tongue from between my lips and slide it against the tip, swirling around it, tonguing it softly before taking the head in my mouth. I look up at you as I do, hearing your groan of pleasure, letting out a moan myself as I taste you, fresh from the shower we took together, but still tasting like you.

I relish the flavor, the texture of you in my mouth, sliding so easily between my lips, and I instantly want more. I slip my lips down, slowly, then back up, starting to move my head back and forth, my hand still holding the base of your cock for a few strokes before I slide my lips all the way down. Taking the entirety of your hardening cock between my lips I feel it press against the entrance to my throat and make me gag softly, but I hold there for a moment before sliding back, my hand moving to your balls and playing with them softly as I begin to repeat the process of taking you in my mouth. I can hear your noises of approval, and feel the ultimate approval now hard between my lips.

Your hand slides to my hair, but I continue what I’m doing, every so often stopping with just the cock head in my mouth and suckling on that, letting my tongue slip around it, playing with the spongy texture. I look up at you when I can, to see your face as I work you in my mouth, slowly, deliberately, both wanting to keep up the exquisite torture and to slam my lips down on your length and fuck your cock with my face.

Instead, you tug me back, off your shaft, my mouth still moving forward, wanting you back between my lips, but you have other plans. You urge me up and I look at you, curiously, before you guide me to the edge of the dining table. I smile, and have an idea of what is coming as you bend me over it at my waist, and I’m suddenly very glad that I cleared it off yesterday.

I wiggle my ass as it’s perched on the side of the table, just the perfect height for this, moving my hands beside myself, groaning as i feel you press against my slick hole, slipping easily inside of me, filling me up, full and perfectly. I lick my lips and grind back against you, feeling you slide your hands to my arms, tugging them behind my back and trapping them loosely together with a hand. I could move my hands away, but I don’t want to, the feeling of being helpless courses through me even though I’m not and it makes me want you even more, if that’s at all possible.

I feel you move within me, taking me, hard and fast, as you know I love to be taken. You slide your free hand forward, up my back and around to my throat, holding the back softly for a moment as you slide in and out of me, even as i grind myself back. I moan, cry out, loudly with each thrust. Your fingers slip around to the front of my throat, holding there for a moment, cutting off just a slight amount of air before sliding to my lips. I open my mouth to take them inside, but instead you move your palm over the open lips and move to pinch my nose with your fingers, I take in as much air as I can just before you pinch my nose, then hold it, because I’m unable to do anything else.

I can feel my hot cunt contract around your shaft as you continue to move within me. I hold my breath as long as possible without fighting and the moment I start to shudder and squirm away from it you let go, for a few moments, allowing me to pant and gasp for air before doing the same again. You hold a little longer this time, making my body shudder and fight against the hold on me, but your grip on my wrists tightens, and you don’t move your hand from my mouth and nose.

My body elates, but struggles back against the lack of breath, both loving and hating when you do this to me. Feeling you press into me so deliciously, aching for you to find that edge. I let a muffled groan escape against your mouth from the air I’m holding in as I feel your pace increase, driving me wild, but unable to make those sounds of pleasure which come so easily to me. You finally let go, and I gasp, pant, make a few groans of pleasure and annoyance as I’m able to, grinding back against you as I hear you chuckle softly at my eagerness, not curbed by the asphyxiation. If anything it heightened my arousal, you know this as well as I do.

You continue to move within me, faster and faster, every so often moving your hand over my mouth, taking your pleasure out on my body, and I love every second of it. Your movements designed to bring us both so much pleasure. I feel you getting frantic, close, and just before you do, you pull out and turn me around, surprised, I move easily for you.

Your hands move to my hair and you slam your cock into my waiting mouth, letting me taste my juices on your shaft as you start fucking my face as vigorously as you were fucking my cunt. Your grunts of closeness turn me on even more as I gag and choke on your cock, my throat letting out gurgles and grunts. I close my eyes tightly as you use my face so easily, waiting for that moment when you flood me with your essence.

I hear you groan, feel you shudder and slam into my throat, as I shudder as well, feeling you start to cum in me, your seed flowing down my throat, making me swallow it. You slowly pull out, but my lips wrap around your shaft and milk it for every drop, swirling my tongue around the tip and moaning softly against your flesh. I finally let go and grin up at you, your hand sliding to pet my hair softly.

“There’s your breakfast, my pet. Now,” you help me up, and turn me toward the kitchen, patting my ass softly, “let’s finish mine.”

I laugh and turn to kiss you deeply, wrapping my arms around you and pressing our naked bodies against each other for another moment, my release not forgotten, but postponed for the moment, as I know you will return in kind after we eat.

From my reading response for my Gender and Sexual Orientation class today. Losing Sue is about MtF transsexuals.

“One thing in Losing Sue that was interesting to me was the introduction of Della/Del, and him saying “I prefer being called “he,” but I don’t really identify as a man. I identify more as a hermaphrodyke.” Why does being something in between man and woman end up looking masculine? Is it because masculine is the powered gender and therefore feminine is the queer gender, and to be something in between you have to be less feminine? Does that even make sense? It makes me think of Wilchins in Queer Theory, Gender Theory who talks about, well, a lot of things, but when she talks about her own sexual reassignment and how it’s valid to say “I feel like a woman trapped in a man’s body” but it’s not valid to say “I feel like a herm trapped in a man’s body.”

I know there is a debate regarding the gender binary perpetuation of transsexuals, and I think it comes out, partially, of what I’m talking about above. Regardless of what we try to accomplish, also, society ends up putting everyone in one of two categories: man and woman. If you don’t fit, we try to find out the “real” gender of the person, what they “really” must be, because people don’t get the facsimile of all gender, like we were talking about two class periods ago. I often feel like any gender outside the two binaries is a waste of time, and my gender specifically is because what am I challenging? Anything? I’m not sure if I could say that I feel “female” but, really, I don’t know what that means. I feel trans because even though I am genetically female I don’t think there is much that goes along with that, aside from my physical self, but that only goes so far. However, because I’m female and enjoy femininity it’s seen as more normal than most other things. Could I identify as a hermaphroditic drag queen? Sure. Would it do much to change the way society perceives me? Very little, unless I wore a button/shirt saying “I’m a hermaphroditic drag queen, ask me how!” But most likely people would just get confused.”

More about this later, perhaps.

I’ve been thinking for quite a while about my position. For the longest time, since I started my journey into BDSM really, I’ve identified as a slave. Now, though, living with my partner, I wonder if that’s true. I push him, I test him, I try to MAKE him Dominate me. I wonder if this is a problem with me or a problem with him, or both, or neither.

I don’t have a passive personality, but I don’t believe that slaves have to have a passive personality, I think slavehood is based on servitude rather than fragility. I’ve known that I have a Dominant personality for a long time. It doesn’t always show, I’m very shy with new people, and I like to observe rather than participate most of the time, but I am a large and definite personality when I have need to be. I find myself having increasing difficulty making decisions, especially personal ones, but that is not really anything new. I like to let others I trust make some decisions for me.

The other night (Saturday), our roommate was watching Drawn Together with us (fabulous show) and Master got up to go to the bathroom, he said something like “I’d appreciate it if someone would fill my wine glass while I was gone.” And I made a flippant teasing comment (with the intention of filling it) that he could “fill it on the way back.” At this point our roommate got up to fill it for him, even though she wasn’t getting up for any other reason. I was hurt, and I realize now a bit more that it was my own damn fault, but it WAS my intention to refill his glass, I was just teasing and being a little bratty, which he’s told me he likes.

Then when we got downstairs, after a bit of doing other things, and after I did or said something, I was being kind of difficult (I was very hurt at that point) but I was also trying to joke. He then said something about how he wished everything wasn’t a struggle all the time, and I practically shut down. That wasn’t exactly what he said, I don’t remember the wording, but I retorted with “I’m sorry I’m so difficult” in a very childish and hurt manner. His comment, essentially, was just icing on the cake.

We kind of ignored the topic until we went to sleep (we were watching House for a while), after which we ended up talking about it. I cried, I was blaming myself, essentially, I was thinking of how I’m apparently not as submissive even as my roommate, who explained to me that she did that because she likes to help people, make them happy. I used to be like that… didn’t I? I used to, I thought. Maybe I’ve just been fooling myself all these years.

We talked about how I push at him, how I push to see where the line is, how I push to get him to Dominate me, and how when I do that it makes him want to not Dominate me, how it makes him pull away. I think a lot of the problem is that he is very inconsistent. He will let me get away with things sometimes and not at others. I don’t know what he wants from me, and I asked him about two weeks ago to give me some rules, some guidelines to follow to be his slave, and I haven’t received a damn thing.

I need consistency. I need all or nothing. I need someone who will Dominate me. Yes, sometimes I want to be forced into it, and sometimes I want to do it willingly, and the times I want to do it willingly, it seems, are the times that he doesn’t do it at all. I don’t know how to get him to Dominate me, and I am living in this middle ground. I need to know what I’m supposed to do or I’ll just keep pushing and he’ll keep moving away, and I’ll keep being miserable.

Maybe I’m not meant to be a slave, but I don’t think I’ll find out until he starts acting like a Master. He started to, we were doing really well for a short while, it seemed to me at least. And then we went to the damn party and he was drunk and I was irritated and he tried to Dom me while he was drunk a little and I don’t like that at all, I can’t stand it when he does when I’m sober, and that’s when he feels most comfortable to. I stormed off, he followed me, we had a long conversation, I cried, I don’t remember if I wrote about any of this. It was horrible, and I felt horrible, and these same questions came up.

I’m not putting this all on him. I’m sure it would be easier for him to be a Master to someone who wasn’t such a fucking brat, who didn’t push him at the time, who acted socially like a slave (whatever that means). I’m sure I could do more to help him, though the times I feel like I have tried, nothing has happened. But that may just be him not having recognized it, or me not recognizing his reaction, or a million other things.

By the time he usually gets around to Dominating me, too, or trying to, I am so livid that I won’t let him.

I just need rules. I need strictness. I need him to let me know what the fuck he wants from me. But this doesn’t seem to happen, ever.

We seem to talk about the same things over and over, and nothing changes, and I feel there is little that I can do because HE needs to set the rules, not me. I’ve given him training ideas, I’ve told him there needs to be consistency in what he says and what he does… what else can I do?

Truthfully, I’m trying to turn a Dom into a Master, and maybe it’s not going to happen.

And maybe I’m a sub wanting to be a slave too, and that is also part of the problem.

I don’t know. I have to go to work.

Read in Episode #2 of The Sacred and Shameless Sexcast.

i perk up as you walk in the room, moving to sitting position, slightly awkwardly coming to rest sitting up on my knees, my head less than an inch away from the dark steel top of the cage.

You left me here, waiting, aching, after you came by and knelt by my cage, pressed your cock through the bars, knowing i would quickly wrap my lips around it, that i would try to slowly tease you as you have been teasing me all day. As i slowly slid my lips up and down your shaft, i could feel it grow in my mouth, and i felt your fingers slip into my hair, tugging it into a mass behind my head, gripping it tightly, but still letting me control the movements.

i was continually anticipating you slamming my lips down on your length, waiting for you to start using my mouth to get off with, aching for you to take control, even as i was helpless and locked up for you. My head was down by your crotch, my ass high up behind me in the cage as i rested on my forearms and knees, wiggling my ass in the air in excitement, hearing my jewelry tinkle slightly in the room, mixing with the moans escaping my lips. We both know how wet i get just from the pleasure of having your cock between my lips.

When it finally happened i gasped anyway, despite having anticipated it. i felt you slam into my throat, and then start fucking my face with heated vigor. i moaned, squeezed my thighs together, and dug my fingernails against the unrelenting steel floor. i tried to look up at your face as you used mine, but unable to see up that high as you move me to meet your pace, feeling it increase as you got closer to cumming.

i heard you growl only moments before feeling you spurt into my mouth, moaning as you did, tasting you, whimpering as you pulled from my lips, even as i felt you soften between them. I darted my tongue out to lick the tip, pressing my face against the bars as you pulled back, hearing your chuckle at my eagerness, i looked up at you and blushed softly before pulling back from the bars.

You slipped your hand through the bars and stroked my hair softly, down my cheek, smiling and saying “good girl.” My heart elated, my body tingled, and a smile curled my lips, you’re the only one i like hearing that phrase from.

“I try.” Came my cheeky reply, then a sweet smile and an addition, “thank you, Master.”

You moved around the cage quickly then, as i was on my hands and knees and slipped two fingers easily into my wet folds, making me groan and move back down onto my forearms, grinding myself back against you. Your thumb found my clit, making me gasp, whimper, grind back against you even harder, before you cruelly took your hand away as quickly as you had placed it. I whimpered and you just shook your head, bringing one of the fingers to your lips, i lick mine as i watch you suck it softly. My lips opened, i slid my tongue out to rest on my bottom lip, patiently waiting for your other finger to be brought to my lips. You let me taste my lust, as i could feel how soaked i am for you. Looking up into your eyes as i sucked your finger, teasing my tongue against it, suckling as if it was something else.

Then you left again, went into another room, where i don’t know, making me wonder, making me wait, locked up, not allowed to touch myself, squirming, alone in my cage. i shifted, lay down, and waited.

Although i am allowed to speak i don’t. i don’t want to be the first to do so, i watch you instead. the time away has hardened me slightly towards you, my mind taking me all sorts of places while i wait for you. though i look up at you and the fight that had built in me while you were gone dissipates, and only the need remains.

despite my silence, i know that my need for you is evident, in the way i sit up as you enter the room, the way my eyes follow you as you advance towards me, the way i scoot closer to the steel of the cage, my eyes darting between your face and between your legs. trying to hide the lust in my eyes, but knowing i’m unable to, knowing you can see it, see right through me.

The simple presence of you makes me hyperaware of the need building inside me. I have allowed you control over me, and now I surrender that control, after silently fighting against it while you were away. You make me want to give in to you, you make me want to give over my control to you, just by seeing you, simply by your presence before me, towering over me.

You kneel by the cage yet again, watching me, sliding your hand through to me and petting me again. i smile, looking at you, pressing my face towards your hand, parting my lips as you bring a finger to them, letting me suck it again, sliding my tongue against it before pulling it into my mouth, watching you all the while, as you watch me.

You grin and take your hand away, and i whimper, waiting. Your hand moves to the lock on the cage, undoing it and then sliding a couple fingers into my collar, tugging me out by it, making me crawl out of the cage. You lead me around, walk me to the middle of the room, then move behind me. i hear your zipper just before you press my shoulders down, i rest myself again on my forearms, wiggling my ass back at you, pressing it back towards you, as i look over my shoulder, not able to see your face, but looking back anyway.

i press my cheek to the cool concrete beneath me as i feel the head of your cock pressing against my opening. i whimper yet again, wanting you, aching for you after a long day of teasing, of almost orgasms, and near fullness. Wanting you inside me so badly, i press back and you just chuckle and rub the head against my greedy hole, teasing me still, one of your hands moving to between my shoulders, pressing me down against the floor, pinning me there as you continue to tease.

i shudder and moan loudly as i finally feel you press against me, though slowly, still teasing, making me want even more. i grind back against you and you just pull away again. my head turns back, trying to see you, your hand pressing me down against the cold rough floor. “Please…” i plead. “Please, Master.”

“Please what?”

i groan, bite my lip, not wanting to say more, but aching so delightfully, all of my body alive with want. i struggle within myself, your hand moving from my back to my face, sliding your finger against my lips, starting to press again, slowly, within me, before backing away again, making me whimper again.

“What do you want, my pet?” You pause, and i say nothing. “Please what?” You prompt again.

i take in a deep breath, the words on my tongue, we both know i don’t beg easily. As much as i love to give myself to you, it’s hard for me to get the words out, it’s hard for me to actually give up my pride that much in order to beg for what i want, to plead, even though i desperately want to. i want to get myself to so base a level where i actually can just beg easily, to be able to give all of myself to you that easily, and not that which i keep for myself. i wanted you to make me beg, i wanted you to make me want you so badly my lust overpowered my overanalyzing brain and i could just scream my lust into the air, beg openly, freely, easily. And i’m damn close to that point.

i dart my tongue out at your finger, trying to distract you, or distract myself from what you’re trying to get me to do. You let me suck on it for a few moments, then trail the spit-covered finger across my cheek. i can feel the line of it cooling against my hot skin. You prompt me again, ask me, try to get me to beg. i press back as an answer, but that’s not good enough.

You pull away, again, completely, and just slide that same finger which was in my mouth back to my cunt, sliding it to my clit and rubbing at it so perfectly, making me moan and grind back against you, press my cheek harder to the floor. i moan with every exhale, start to get close to the edge, and just then you pull your hand away.

i gasp and whimper, grind back in need, my mind clouded, but knowing that was the final straw, the final push i needed to get me to say what we both want to hear.

“Please, Master, please, fuck me, fuck me hard, please.”

You pause for a moment, continue to tease my aching hole, then slip your cock inside me quickly, making me cry out, slamming me down against the floor. i feel a finger pressing against my tender backdoor, sliding into my ass and making me tremble, i grind back against your thrusts.

“What else do you want my sweet whore?”

i shudder again, loving to hear you call me names which some would find offensive, and i find complimentary. i bite my lip again, despite my admission, suddenly shy again, but only for a moment.

“Fuck my ass… please?” It comes out in a loud whisper, loud enough for both of us to hear it.

i can feel the grin on your face, even though you don’t say anything, and i can’t see you. You pull out and swiftly bury yourself in my aching ass. i gasp and moan and whimper and cry, each moment making me want a little more, each moment sending me farther towards climbing over that pinnacle. i slide one of my hands beneath me, balancing myself on that shoulder, move to rub at my clit as you pump yourself in and out of my greedy ass.

Your hands move to my hips, gripping me as you use me so wonderfully, my finger on my clit not taking long to get me close, get me there, get me over the edge, cumming hard for you as you fuck my ass so deliciously. You continue to move in me, filling me, as i bring myself to another point, making myself cum again, all thought stalled, unable to think of anything but the sensations you elicit from me. i hear your familiar groan as you get close, as you start cumming in me, as i, at nearly the same time, bring myself to that point as well, our moans mixing in the air, then gasping for breath.

Read in Episode #1 of The Sacred and Shameless Sexcast.

its been so long without you, sometimes i wonder if the taste of you that i remember is real or imaginary. even though i havent had my mouth on your flesh for nearly a month, i can still sometimes taste the flavor of you in my mouth, feel the texture, the heat. the taste which seems so perfect, which was exactly how i imagined you tasting before we ever met, and your smell, exactly as i imagined you would smell. the perfection of complimentary genetics, it seems, everything about you fits into me like we were made for each other. our tastes mix so well together, as i have often known on my tongue.

You press me up against the wall, just inside the door, our kiss born of all the longing, love, and lust building up within us over the weeks we have not been together. i quiver at the nearness of you, feeling the touch of your hand as it slides down my thigh, the other moving to tangle in my hair even as my arms wrap around you, my fingers searching under your shirt to feel your flesh. our lips and teeth and tongues kiss and nibble and play. I gasp then, moan loudly, unrestrained, into your mouth as you find me, wet and hungry, easily accessible to your roaming fingers.

i long for you every moment. i can feel you, no matter where i go, and i ache for that day when we live in the same city, under the same roof. i long for that day which does not seem so far off as it did when we first talked about it, when we first agreed upon it, which was somehow over six months ago. every day it gets a little bit closer to being a reality, and every day i want it just a little bit more than i ever knew i was able to want anything. the same way i want you.

i grind down against your exploring digits as you slide within the folds of me, playing with my jewelry, teasing me as you know i am burning with lust for you, having been unable to attain release for the last seven long days, as you wished. you love having me aching for it when you arrive, and i do. though i know i would still be aching for your touch regardless of how long it had been since the last time i had gotten myself off.

your presence overwhelms me with lust, just the thought of you makes me squirm in my chair in the middle of class, during work, makes me want to touch all the places you make hot with your memory, and i do, once alone, in the comfort of my scarlet satin sheets, or downstairs, in the living room while my roommate is busy upstairs, lost in sweet memory of your fingers, your tongue, your flesh.

i whimper and grind down harder against your fingers, you pull your head back and i cast a pleading look into your eyes before tugging your head back to mine. one of my hands now tangled in your hair, short and barely enough to hold on to. i fiercely attack your lips, and pool all my lust into that kiss, imagining i can pass it to you so that you can feel it, but only for an instant. your fingers finally find my aching clit and you rub at the perfect pace, in the perfect place, and i break the kiss, my eyes still closed, hands moving to grip your shoulders as i shudder against the wall, as you effortlessly bring me to the edge, and suddenly to topple over it.

I’m a gothic/gothabilly-looking femme drag queen.

Let me explain.

I add gothic/gothabilly-looking into my gender identity, because it dictates how my gender is expressed. If I was punk or lolita or more mainstream my gender would be expressed in a much different way. As it is, I’m beginning to adopt some things which are a little unusual for the gothic/gothabilly image, but I’m not a stickler to it either, and I’m not a stickler to my gender either.

I believe my gender is fluid. When I put a label on it, “femme drag queen,” I use that as at once slightly ambiguous as well as solid. I don’t believe it is really either. I can also identify as “trans” or “queer” as my gender, although I prefer “femme drag queen.”

It has taken me a long time to get to this identity. I was kind of oblivious for a long time, just kind of doing whatever, and rather feminine, but also not, and for many years I would only mostly play male characters in plays. I felt masculine, part of me feels more male than female, though I know and love the fact that I have a cunt, and this is partially where the drag queen identity comes in, though not only. I was rather femmish butch in high school, but mostly butch. I shaved my head, I was rather punkish, I felt rather masculine, though I also wore skirts. I had a friend’s father think I was a boy in a dress instead of a woman with a shaved head at one point, and I think it’s almost more accurate. I was kind of affronted at the time, but now I look back and I smile.

I recognize the fact that all gender is drag. “Woman is to copy as copy is to copy.” There is no “natural” or “innate” or “perfect” gender. All gender is a performance of gender, all gender expression is unnatural, all gender expression is fake, is a copy, is drag. And I love it. This is also partially where my gender identification of “drag queen” comes in.

Femininity as experienced by lesbians vs. bi/pan/omni-sexual females or males vs. straight females or males vs. gay males vs. any other sex (biological bodies) and sexual (who you sleep with) identities is extremely different for each group. The femininity which I can attain as an omnisexual female is not the same as the femninity which an omnisexual male or a gay male could attain. However, the femininity I identify with is that of omnisexual or gay males. The femininity I identify with is that of drag queens, both in subdued and extreme forms. The femininity I feel like I desire is a trans or queer femininity.

I am constantly performing my gender, and I love my gender, but it’s not something easily identified by those outside of myself. This isn’t a bad thing, I think, as on one hand it allows me to get closer to those who view me as typically feminine, and it allows me to shake up the ideas of it, though I don’t do that as often as I’d like, but I also do.

I’ve been told that I had a huge influence in my high school. My radical behavior influenced others to go do what they wanted and look the way they wanted and claim queer identities if they wanted. I’ve been told I’ve had a huge influence on my friends, one of which told me that she started wearing different clothing, clothing that she has always wanted to but never had the guts to, once we became friends and she watched me. She noticed me wearing whatever I wanted, wearing anything that I wanted, not caring about what others thought, and because of that she began to wear the clothing that she had previously been to self-conscious to wear. I know I have influence on people, and that simply by being me I can influence others (and I’m not meaning to sound pompous or pretentious or something, this is seriously what I’ve been told). It took me aback when I was told these things, but I’m glad I was told.

Not many people really get my gender at first mention of it, and a lot of people think that it’s something which is not challenging behaviors or thoughts, but the thing is it doesn’t matter as much to me what I’m challenging in others, though it does matter to an extent, but mostly I just want to be me.

I found this through my sister a while ago, and I just love it so much. We’re reading about butch/femme this week in Gender & Sexual Orientation, which made me want to post this for everyone, ’cause everyone needs to see it.

It’s simply called ButchFemme and by a pair in Seattle with wonderful lines like:
“you don’t see as many of them anymore, not like back in the day, you know, when they had to wear three pieces of women’s clothing not to be arrested…”
“I like butch girls and I cannot lie. You other femmes can’t deny, when a butch walks in all the femmes wanna fuss ‘cause there’s one of them and thirty of us”
“sometimes I miss the butch/femme dynamic”
“I like a girl whose pants hang off her ass. I like a girl with a little bit of body mass. I like a girl who knows she makes me gawk at her star tattoos, sun glasses, and mohawk.”
“Write me letters, bring me flowers, screw me all night for hours and hours.”
A cute little flag to the hanky code (“Hey butch girl i’m kind of having a problem, I see from your hanky that you’re flagging a bottom. It’s not that I want to be a sterotype, a passive femme girl, receptive, polite. But come on, is your bark worse than your bite? are you really gonna make me Top you tonight? i’m not trying to be predictable, but you’re going to have to pin me against this wall.” “Oh, is that what that bandana meant? Oh, no, I must have had that in the wrong pocket or something. No… no, no… I’m a Top, I swear!”)
and so many more.

Team Gina’s myspace page

“A slave is a man or woman who has a special heart — a heart that requires a connection with another person in order to find completeness in their life. A person is born with slave heart — he cannot be “made” into a slave nor can wishing to be one bring it about. It is a natural state. A slave may actualize their destiny by choosing to live in obedience to another person’s will and to serve that person — their Master or Mistress — in obedience. Most slaves are very bright and capable, and they may make many decisions every day affecting other people, large sums of money, important projects, and so on. But slaves generally do not make decisions easily or well that concern themselves, and that is one of the reasons they seek a Master — to form that point of centeredness from which to live their lives.

“Someone may have “heart of slave” and be on a journey toward actualizing their destiny without yet having found the Master their heart tells them to give their life to. And others may feel drawn toward slavery but not yet know their hearts…

“Once a slave truly understands that their existence is more complete and fulfilled in being obedient, everything else falls into place. A slave speaks in order to convey requested information or to request information about the Master’s intentions. A slave eats, sleeps, washes, exercises, takes medication, and so on in order to remain healthy and avaliable for service. Slaves labor at tasks assigned by their Master or hold an outside job so that they can contribute to the Master’s household and not be a financial burden. Anything a slave is allowed to do for personal gratification is a gift from their Master, not a right. When this aspect of slave heart is realized, slaves start to find peace in their lives.”

from from APEX ACADEMY/BUTCHMANNS Protocol for slaves quoted by Robert J Rubel in his book Protocols: Handbook for the female slave

The question of bisexuality comes back to the question of sexuality in general, and if queer sexualities are made or innate or a third option. In the study of male arousal the conclusion was that, by genital arousal alone, there is no such thing as bisexuality. This also brings up the question of what constitutes a sexual orientation. Are bisexuals people who are only physically aroused by one body type but who are mentally aroused or desirous or emotionally bonded to other body types, or who are indiscriminatory as to the type of body their lover has. If we can learn to be attracted to different body types for whatever reason, doesn’t that mean that everyone could be bisexual? Is it just mental blocks which keep people from being bisexual?

The issues around the term and existence of bisexuality as outlined in (Con)tested Identities are ones which I have muddled around in my brain for quite some time. I am currently with a male partner, though, over the last ten years or so (ever since I had a conscious thought about sexual orientation) I have identified as anywhere from lesbian to bisexual. At the same time, I wouldn’t ascribe to him strictly a masculine gender. A further question: how does gender play into sexual orientation? Is it all about bodies? What about a bisexual who only likes the masculine gender, regardless of body? Would ze be bisexual but monogendered? Do we really need to dig that far into it anyway?

How does bisexual sexual orientation change dependent on the relationship the person is in at the time? I happen to have a female (sort of) lover as well, does that mean that I am a “real” bisexual while others may not be because they practice monogamy? I noticed how this isn’t exactly addressed, though the ideas of promiscuity and fidelity are. Does it make a difference that my partner is also bisexual? Does it matter?

I too have felt distanced from the queer community when I mention I have a male partner, though I don’t openly admit to my polyamory. I use the term partner freely but have caught myself saying “boyfriend” at work instead and realize my aims at using the term, the ability I have to use heteronormative terms to quell the question that my using partner arises. Is this wrong of me? I am invoking heterosexual privilege because I can. I am acting like the bisexual threat to queerness perhaps.

From (Con)tested Identities: “dissatisfaction with existing labels results in the development and exploration of the utility of alternative labels, for example… “pansexual,” “polyamorous” and “polysexual.” A number of other participants also discuss variously using alternate terms like “hetero-flexible,” “gender freak” and “gender non-specific.” This made me think of a couple things, to be explored. The last town I lived in, alternate terms such as pansexual or multisexual were well known in the queer community, however, when I moved here I’ve been asked what I mean when I say pansexual or multisexual or (my personal favorite and invention) intellisexual (which I generally explain before I even have the chance to be asked—attracted to minds not bodies), I was also told “I’ve only heard one other person use that term.” This may just be because that was Southern Oregon (Ashland) and this is Utah, and I think that plays a large part in it, but even in the queer community it is unknown, and this makes me wonder.

Where and how do these ideas travel? Are they simply word of mouth, are they by academic literature such as we are reading? Are they through taking queer oriented classes and questioning? How does the queer community thrive? How are do discursive identities spread?

Also the quote: “And, the irony is that in a second I would bring my girlfriend to, you know, straight events and it’s like, you know, this is, this is my girlfriend, deal with it. Like I’m so ready to do that. But so not ready to like bring a man to a gay function and say this is my boyfriend, deal with it. (PI6)” From what I’ve revealed I would assume it’s obvious where this hits home for me. For the first time in my life, really, I am in a solid relationship with a male which is the longest of my life, and I am also feeling uncomfortable in queer situations. For the first year after I moved here I was rather avoidant of getting into queer situations (bad term), and still rather am. I was the president of the student union at my previous university and the founder of the GSA at my high school, and yet now I’m worried to attend queer events?

Is this simply something in me now? I think part of it is. I feel ashamed that I’m with a male, yet claim intellisexuality or multisexuality or queerness in general. My lesbian butch dyke sister calls herself queer, can I claim the same identity, or is that blasphemous? I really do feel that I am in the middle, unsure of what I can and cannot claim, though knowing that I don’t want to claim heterosexuality, though I jokingly will say that I’m “half heterosexual.”

This was brought up in my Gender and Sexual Orientation class today, I’ve heard of the grid before but not looked for it. I found a nifty little test. It’s much better than the kinsey scale, more inclusive of different aspects of sexuality and sexual orientation.

Klein Sexual Orientation Grid
I scored an average of 3.76

MeaningThis result can also be related to the Kinsey Scale:

0 = exclusively heterosexual
1 = predominantly heterosexual, incidentally homosexual
2 = predominantly heterosexual, but more
than incidentally homosexual
3 = equally heterosexual and homosexual
4 = predominantly homosexual, but more than incidentally
heterosexual
5 = predominantly homosexual, incidentally heterosexual
6 = exclusively homosexual

Summary
The idea of this exercise is to understand exactly how dynamic a person’s sexual orientation can be, as well as how fluid it can be over a person’s lifespan. While a person’s number of actual homo/heterosexual encounters may be easy to categorize, their actual orientation may be completely different. Simple labels like “homosexual”, “heterosexual”, and “bisexual” need not be the only three options available to us.

Take the quiz