Archive for March, 2010|Monthly archive page

Santa Cruz March 31 / April 1 ~~ San Francisco April 1 – 12

In Adventure, bathroom, bullshit, Comedy, dating, deviance, discount domination, dominatrix, drama, fun, Golden Showers, kink, paying for it, perverts, pissing, politics, Public, queer, San Francisco, Sex, sexual politics, Tour, Touring, traveling, whores, Widow Centauri on March 28, 2010 at 1:46 pm

Is it wrong to sleep with the mechanic to get my car fixed?  I didn’t think so either, that was until I realized that I’m not straight and he’s not kinky.  Also, when he got his dick out I almost laughed myself into an involuntary golden shower!

Is the car fixed?  Yes and no.  The initial problem is all better but the rattling sound that it makes from the rear is very concerning.  I’ll take it in on Monday.  I hope he doesn’t show me his silly little thing again.  If he does, I hope he can get into humiliation.

The car needs to be fixed because I’m driving to San Francisco this week.  I’ll be there through the 12th – longer if I can get away with it.  I’m passing through Santa Cruz rather quickly on the 31st / 1st.   If you are in Santa Cruz and wanna have a quick golden shower on the beach call me. I’ll be in and out of town too fast for anything much longer.

I’m looking for work in San Francisco.  Modeling, Public Pissing, Hour / Day Long Sessions, etc.  I hope I can have some sexy times in the city.  Last summer I had one of the hottest golden showers ever.  It was in a car, at a busy intersection, next to the park.  I climbed up on this guys face, pissed right into his mouth, made him drink every drop and as soon as we finished someone walked right past us.  It was really edgy.  I loved it.  I want more.

I’m Gonna Post it to Craigslist

In Adventure, advertisements, American Dominatrix, bathroom, BDSM, bitch, bitchy, blood, bondage, bullshit, cheap men, Cuckold, dating, deviance, dominatrix, drama, fetish, forced feminazation, fun, Gaslamp, Gay, Gay Bars, gender, Gender bending, GLBTQ, Golden Showers, kink, neurosis, paying for it, perverts, pissing, politics, porn, Rubber Chickens, Ruby Shower, San Diego, Sex, sexual politics, sexuality, shoes, slave, the bus, Trannies, Transsexual, whores, Widow Centauri on March 26, 2010 at 2:05 am

I’m in San Diego for a few more months.  I’m in and out of town as often as I can get out.  I’m not happy here.  I’m a hardcore pervert living in a conservative environment. I am kinky as hell.  I have a penchant for public water sports.  I am a mean demanding dominatrix. I’m in the mood to play.

I have been spending as much time as possible on the east coast and in San Francisco.  I’m looking for someone who is game to play, to obey me, to do as they are told, to amuse me both financially and sexually.  I have a preference for paid sexual encounters.  I’m a pervert, not a gold digger.  I know what I like.

I am in school and don’t have a lot of time for bullshit.  This town has a lot of bullshit.  I’m going to be leaving in three or five months.  I’m looking for someone to have some fun with before I split.  Give me a reason to visit sometimes, something to look back at and say “I had some fun in that town.” I have been here for two years and I can’t claim that I have had any fun here at all.

I want to piss on boys in café bathroom, at the beach, on public transportation, and in fancy hotel lobbies. I’m really a lover of public water sports.  I like to piss on boys.  This is my favorite thing to do.

In addition I like to have $ex with big black me.  Yep I love it.  I’m not the sort who thinks the thing is gonna break me.  I can’t get enough big black cock.  But you can’t be cheap about it.  A huge part of the eroticisms is being paid to do dirty things.  I like the actual exchange.

More BDSM focused activities I love include caning, bondage, humiliation, gender bending games, cuckolding, and ruby showers. I’m not into scat.  I am a fetishist.  I love to wear stockings, heels, and other high fem gear.  I lust after latex and if you want to see me cream in public take me shopping at Demask.

I’m not gonna cause drama and I don’t want to be your girlfriend.  I’m looking for reoccurring smutty times.

Please only reply if you are serious and capable of coping with my demand$.  I have had enough bullshit and would love to beat you silly and piss on you at the beach in the middle of the night.  Tonight?

Don’t make me wait, don’t disappoint me.  I’m sick to tears of perverts who talk a big game but can’t come through.

Even the Perverts are Conservative

In Adventure, American Dominatrix, bathroom, BDSM, bitch, bitchy, bondage, bullshit, corporate america, culture, dating, deviance, dominatrix, drama, facism, fetish, fun, Golden Showers, kink, neurosis, paying for it, perverts, pissing, politics, Public, San Diego, Sex, sexual politics, sexuality, shoes, Widow Centauri on March 25, 2010 at 9:10 am

I don’t think I am gonna make it another year in this town.  I’m sick from the sun all the time, the people are dumb – stupid — vapid really, and the perverts are conservative in their kinks.  This I cannot stand!

Somehow the guy tonight thought I was a “nice” dominatrix.  We agreed on the phone to meet for a quick public golden shower (My favorite and sadly something I have yet to accomplish in this hole of a town).

On the phone he spoke excitedly about the possibility of becoming a “regular.”  I’m not sure what he thought that might mean as he was unable to articulate his definition of such.  I’m not certain he didn’t think that I might put out if he told me he was gonna come back with more mullah.   Like suggesting that he wanted to be a regular was enough to make me suck his dick in anticipation.

I asked him whom he had played with, if anyone. He dropped the name of a well-known domme and I agreed that he could serve as my potty for a few minutes.

I met him in a café near the Crypt.  I took his money, made him by me a beverage, then we sat down so I could watch the toilet room to make sure it was empty before heading in to find it occupied.  We sat there with a bird’s eye view of the john.  I sat sipping my tea and finishing off my second gallon of water for the day.  I love to drink it right from a gallon bottle – it creates quite the effect of nervous anticipation.

I love the look on a boys face when I can tell that he is wondering about just how much piss I really can hold.  It is a lot.  Tonight I had a wicked full bladder.  I finished listening to him prattle on about his middle management position and told him to come with me.  He said “where?” Like he didn’t know what we were about to do.  “Here? Oh this is too public for me” he uttered as though it was optional.

I sat down and asked him if he had a better suggestion.  I thought the bathroom of this particular café was swell.  I eyed it the last time I was there.  It has a drain in the middle of the room, the paint is colorful, it has mirrors placed so I can see it all, and it is a single stall – no possibility of really getting caught.  I thought it to be quite private really.

But he babbled on about it being too public and being scared.  I was willing to listen to what he had to say for a second.  Not a long time, this was a non-negotiable deal. We were to meet and I was gonna piss on him – in public.  This is my favorite game.  I love this game.  He was ruining my buzz.

I sat there for 30 seconds, he suggested that he thought I was a nice sweet domme like the high profile meanie he had previously seen – I did not want to hear any more.  I told him he could do it my way or not at all.  I stood up and walked towards the toilet.  He stayed seated.  I didn’t even go into that pisser to relieve myself.  I turned on my booted heels and split.  I went to a bar down the street to relieve myself.  I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of watching me piss in a toilet room.  The conservative perv didn’t deserve it.

I left pissed off and needing to pee. I stormed out of there. I am a bitch.  I am a professional bitch.  I am a dominatrix and I am entitled to respect from my clients.  Yes, I offer a service but it is prearranged and you do what I say.  That is part of the deal.  Visit a dominatrix – do as you are told.  End of story.  If there is one thing I loathe it is bitches who do not obey me.  I am the one in charge of the game.  I know how to play it.  You do as you are told or I’m not gonna give you the time of day.  Got it?

This isn’t even the first perv to pull this sort of shit on me out here. I had a  “heavy masochist” a few weeks back who couldn’t even take a slap on the ass.  I’m playing with a dirty old man who told me “the kinkier the better – nothing is too kinky” but a little bondage scared him shitless.  I’m over this lame sexless town.

I’m hoping I can find an east coast pervert who wants to come out here and serve me for a week.  Take all the beatings, public play, and piss I want to give – say thank you and ask to see me again.  Maybe even tip me.

I have tons of fantasies needing to be fulfilled.  I eye every place I go hoping that I can do something perverted there soon. I have a running list of public places I want to piss on someone, anyone would do.  Shit I’m so frustrated I’m gonna start pissing on myself in public.  Public water sports as masturbation?  Hmmm.

Is this town really as bad as I think it is?  It must be, I’m hot and horny and I can’t even piss on a boy in a toilet without him whining about it.  This fucking sucks!

The Ess, My Trip to New England, and Another Shit Year in Sandy Eggo.

In Adventure, American Dominatrix, bullshit, culture, deviance, dominatrix, drama, drinking, Education, fetish, gender, GLBT, GLBTQ, Lorelei, Lorelei Erisis, Massachusetts, neurosis, politics, queer, San Diego, sexual politics, Widow Centauri on March 21, 2010 at 8:31 pm

Recently I applied for admission into a PhD program in New England.  Because of the madness in my personal life I applied to only one, the one I wanted to get into.  I went to visit, spoke with professors, found a couple of them who said I could work for them, and made my application very tight.  I expected to be offered admission.  I was not.

Oh the sadness.

I am taking another year in Sandy Eggo to finish the MA I’m working on.  I’ll be applying to twenty schools in the fall.  Oh how fun, how much fun fun fun!  I’ll be retaking the GRE, plotting, planning, email professors, and working hard to get into a school closer to my sweetie.  I’m so sick of the crazy west coast.

That said, I’m here another year.  Goodie!

At this point I should tell you how great the ESS was.  The conference was spectacular.  I presented my research on a panel Friday morning.  The organizer and one of the presenters didn’t show so it was me and a professor from a catholic university, both of us discussing different elements of essentialism in queer theory. Because one of the presenters didn’t show up we had lots of time to expatiate on our ideas.

After that I meant to network, to go to lots of presentations, and to schmooze but instead I had an unexpected chance to dork around in Boston with my sweetie, Lorelei Erisis.  I was so happy to just dump the conference.  Oh I went to the presentation where Howard Becker was supposed to be.  He however thought it would be more fun to ditch the silly thing and go to Paris with his love.

Then I tried to go to the urban ethnography mini conference that had Sudhir Venkatesh’s name all over it.  It was packed. Professor Venkatesh was sweet enough to email me and tell me he was not going to attend the conference.

It was at that point that I realized that all the cool kids were skipping out on this party and I had a few days with Lorelei in Boston.  We dorked around, ate, drank scorpion bowls, went to the sociology mixer and met up with some CUNY students.

They talked me into considering CUNY despite the lack of funding.  I’m gonna go home and talk to my professor who got his PhD there.  I’m interested in a school that will let me be a radical academic.  It is becoming pretty obvious that I need to be allowed to have enough academic freedom to start a revolution.  I’m not sure any of the more traditional places I have been looking at are going to give me the climate I need to thrive.  So maybe CUNY.  I hope I can find the right place to be.  I’m tired of not knowing what is coming next.

Right now I’m sitting in the airport with a face mask on – you know the paper kind that freak out all the passengers without them.  I find the masks to be a delightful social experiment.  Also they can be kind of fetishy and if this flight isn’t full I might get a full row.  Oh how I hope.

Coming Out

In American Dominatrix, BDSM, bullshit, censorship, dating, deviance, discrimination, dominatrix, drama, Family, GLBTQ, Golden Showers, Kindness, kink, Lesbian, Massachusetts, pissing, politics, queer, San Francisco, sexual politics, Transsexual, Widow Centauri on March 8, 2010 at 10:36 pm

I generally think that coming out is a bad idea.  Anytime you have to articulate your identity you are giving credence to the ideology of heteronormative behavior.  When was the last time someone came out to you as straight?

Coming out presupposes a world of coerced conformity. A world where nuclear, heterosexual, two person, monogamous relationships are the prescribed norm. Coming out states that you acknowledge this and are stating your identity as something other than this.  Making an apology. Telling people that you understand that everyone is presumed straight, until they say otherwise. This fosters an ideology of reinforced heteronormative behavior patterns.  Expecting that people will love you, even though your queer, puts the burden of tolerance, and the power to represent the default identity, on straight people.

I never really thought much about coming out. I grew up in San Francisco. Everyone was queer, queer friendly, out and proud. There were more gay flags flying in my childhood than bigots screaming slurs, a lot more.  I’m thinking about this a lot this week as last week I was chased out of a party being called gay.  How is it possible that “gay” is an insult? I’m living in a very scary world where heterosexuality is presupposed, expected, and thought to be desirable.  I’m living in a world where people use heterosexism as a weapon.

I have issues with coming out, with having to come out and with the problems that you cannot undo once you come out. I’m all about being yourself and not having to explain it to anyone.  I’m gonna come out though. Not that you don’t know I’m queer. I’m sure I have said it before. I talk about my girlfriend and about how I prefer to be in non-traditional relationships with people of non-conforming gender identities.

I’m gonna come out as a parent.  I have offspring. I almost never mention it to people who don’t need to know. I want to protect my children from the bizarre world of professional perversion I live in and love. I want to keep my worlds separate. I want to have a modicum of privacy. I want to have my cake and eat it too.  If I never told you I have children don’t take it personally, you have to be very close to me to have been brought into my world.  I don’t trust most people with this part of my life.

I’m in a position where I feel I must come out though. Being silent about my children on my blog and in my art is no longer advantageous. The man who knocked me up when I was a teenager is not giving me any choice.  I must come out if I am going to write about the full spectrum of a major problem I am dealing with. If I am going to not censor my writing, I have to come out.

Alright, so now you know I’m a mother.  You might be asking how this is relevant. I’m getting to it.

The father of my children, after our brief high school fling, became an evangelical Christian. Once he was into kinky sex and drugs. Now he is married in the suburbs slandering my queer intellectual identity. His wife is a stay at home bleached blond who has nothing but time on her hands. She is reading this blog.

The two of them have a real problem with the way I live my life. They want to throw stones and suggest that I’m not allowed to have more fun than they are.  It has been a long time since I have been able to deal with the father of my children in a way that is indicative of adult communication.  I’m tired of being called the antichrist. I’m tired of the threats and the hostility. I’m tired of them trying to keep my children from me because I’m a queer, kinky, sex working academic.

The shit has to stop now. I can’t really process things without writing about them. When the wife started posting hate mail to this blog I realized that I could not tell you what I was doing without these crazy Christians knowing too.

I sat stewing for a while.  I was going to post my upcoming travel but I didn’t want to tell them what I was up to.  I thought I would be covert about it, telling you that I’m having problems with the right wing and that I can only tell you vague details of my trip. I’m sick of trying to dance around their bullshit so I figured it might be easier to out myself as a mother than it would be to deal with them holding this over me, trying to harm my family, playing games.  I’m sick of it.

I’m coming to New England to attend a conference, visit some family, and play.  I’m bringing my teenage son who wants to look at colleges in the area.  I’ll have a little bit of free time to play.  Hopefully you want to play.  I’m really in the mood to have some fun, get off this crazy coast, away from the Christians, out of the vapid self-loathing monotony of southern California.

I’ll have time to play March 13th – 16th in Western Mass.  I might be heading to Cape Cod on the 13th and I will be in NYC for a day but I’m not sure which day.  I’ll be in Cambridge with very limited availability March 19th – 21st.

I hope I get to beat you, piss on you, and write a dirty story to anger the crazy Christians.  Help me have some fun, pay my increased tuition, and get out of the funk that is becoming the essence of my life.  Come on, let’s live a little!