Capitol B Bottom    

I am not a masochist. I cannot tolerate well the pain that I cannot tolerate well. 

My lovers and tops would laugh.  We have had countless discussions about this.The sensation I crave, that propels me, that is my slippery slope to endorphinland, is pound and slam.  Is punch and thud and shove and kick.  It is heavy bondage, mummification, body bags.  It is strangulation and fire and chains and knives and weight and weights and clamps and needles.  Big, hard, fierce, strong.  It is love and stroke and challenge and mmmmmmmm and ahhhhhhhhhh.

I am not a submissive.  I am a bottom.  I am a Capital Felice, not a lower case one.
I am a dirty girl.  I am the strong woman...the hungry canvas that beckons and challenges her top.  But I am not a disobedient girl.  I am not the bad girl that needs punishment. 
I am my Top's willing partner and equal.
Do I call the scene from the bottom?  Do I Top from the bottom?  In some ways yes.  I don't trust easily.  Wait, no, that's incomplete. 

In most aspects of my life, I am the Mommy.  I cart and schlep and console and shop for and love up and sex up and advise and mediate and facilitate and take care and take care.  I have, fortunately, through the years lessened the equation of Mommy = martyr.  I am fiercely independent and autonomous and happily receive love and support and instruction from my chosen family of friends and lovers (with whom I have been countlessly blessed).
Because I am usually the caretaker (and sought out for that), it is remarkably difficult for me to trust that someone else will know how to keep me safe.  It is I who defends, gives comfort and safety.  I am the rottweiller for those I love.  These acts bring me joy and fulfillment.
It is play- the slam- that pushes me to let go- little by little- to remind me that it is not me who must make things ok and safe for me and mine. 

I am not passive in any aspect of my life.  Not my politic, my loving, my sadness, my performance, my beliefs, my friendships, my anger, my awe of the world, my bottoming or my topping.  My passion runs thick and deep.  Makes me laugh and weep...and how fucking lucky I am for that.

I am not a SAM...I am no longer a DMF (Defiant Mother Fucker- my own term coined three years ago with an old lover/play partner).  I am actually a fierce, sensitive co-operative bottom for my Top- moving with her, adjusting my feet to better take her hit, watching her amount of sweat...yes, sometimes I Mommy from the bottom.  Should this change?  I don't know.  Maybe if it did, I would fly to places I have only glimpsed before.  I will think about that.
But I am not the bad girl.  Never threaten me.  Never punish me.  I didn't do anything wrong. 

My play may look like fight, but it is not.  It is dance.  Because I rarely bottom to someone who is not my lover, the love and respect and admiration I have for my Top is already established.  And hers for me.  But the love is the undercurrent.

Wear me down and I will give in.  Tire me out and I will give over- this is what I crave and what I need.  But that someone is even in the position to do those things to/for me, is because of mutual respect and a wonderful and twisted sense of humor.