Quote:
Originally Posted by psykbutch
Heya you said:
Well....I don't think she likes anything to do with bdsm, we might run into a compatibility issue. The only way I could really get that hotness off of being walked through the crowd is if the person...liked to dominate? Dee is really gentle...I don't think I am, and would rather be handled roughly myself. Oye...
Thanks for the advice...I do tend to just blend butch/femme sub/dom all together
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Listen, there are plenty of people here with a lot of experience with BDSM (I am not one of them) that can help you with that and they are typically very open to people that are interested.
Quote:
Originally Posted by AscotButch
I've been thinking a bit about this since I saw this topic on the front page the other day. Rare is it that I actually consider what makes me butch because like anything other aspect, it is inextricably woven into my very fiber. Butchness is simply another thread in my tapestry. When a straight female friend was talking about wanting me in her wedding, sans any prompting from me she said, "And of course you can wear a tux." So a part of who I am is my butchness that it seems my being anything but doesn't even occur to anyone else. A couple of friends' kids who are certainly old enough to know I am female refer to me as Uncle Lise on their own accord and it just makes sense to everyone even though I am not male identified. Perhaps I'm fortunate in that I've known I was butch since I was really young and my parents were open minded enough to let me be who I was. My mother knew enough to buy me the jeans with the reinforced knees and the Converse chucks with no pink on them. She did clamp a bit on the sound that I made while playing shooting games with my buddies, but that was only because I was running around the neighborhood shouting "douche douche!" (you must admit, with enough emphasis, it makes a pretty good gun noise) Everything I do is imbued with female masculinity because I am. The way I smoke a cigar, the way I arrange flowers, that I love to cook, the way I fuck. Do those things make me butch? I don't know. I just know they make me, me.
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I was not quite so fortunate. My mom was forever and up until about 7th grade when I finally put my boots down about it trying to femmify me. In 6th grade she picked a bra for me that was probably not the best choice as it had a padded liner. Now, I mentioned previously that these things were big enough for their own zip code. It wasn't much different back then except......back then it was painful and humiliating. That bra ruined me for about a week. One of those cheerleading bitches yelled out over the lunch room for everyone to look at my boobage because I had clearly stuffed my bra. No real way to prove that at the short length I was willing to go at the time. I stomped out of there humiliated, and angry with hot tears running down my face. I didn't know at the time it would only last until the next unwitting target presented itself.