Full Moons, Pheromones, and I Phones

The full moon occurs on new years eve, and I realized it was coming this morning when i woke up with such powerful femme feelings, a need to touch my swelling breasts, and imagine myself all woman. I love the idea of having a secret cycle which peaks at the full moon, and that it has a reality of its own now, though at one time I consciously cultivated the concept. Woman may not agree, but i feel it is so wonderful to have a cycle, and so I seem to have developed one though it is not so much about fertility, as my feminine sexuality, and also my meditative consciousness. My peak meditation experiences occur around the time of the full moon as well, and of course that makes sense because i chant the pancadaza, the 15 verses, which are the name of Tripura Sundari who is embodied in and rules over the full moon, which contains the 15 Nityas, + Tripura Sundari, on the sixteenth day of the waxing moon, the sixteenth day, the day of the full moon.

see http://www.astrojyoti.com/lunarphasesandthenityadevis.htm for a concise description.

And then there are hormones. Of course, i am a male who takes estrogen, so I don't experience the holy cycle of hormonal changes, rather I just am on hormones, day after day. And I of course love my hormones, and what they do to me, part of my secret self, which is both in the world and out of it. I imagine, and sometimes it seems to me that all that estrogen..well you can smell it can't you? I mean that old gentleman sitting there at the bar, or the coffee shop. Isn't there something about him? something incongruous, and yet.. something... appealing. I have always loved the smell of women, and imagine it works below consciousness, the kingdom of the olfactory. I find ..well it is a little embarassing, but I know a few people, men if you must know, who seem to respond to me, in a way that is almost inappropriate, and I don't think they are particularly gay, nor is the interaction in any way overt, but well maybe it is just me, who can say.

Well ok let me ask my I-Phone Or rather my magic eight ball app. SIGNS POINT TO YES Well part of my journey has been one into fancy, and i the analytic one, the rational one. I don't mind the eight ball's dismissal. After all, the ringtone says "I am he, as you are me." but that can't be! I am she! WITHOUT A DOUBT. That's better. The I-Phone is my Xmas present from my daughters, and well i was never an acolyte at the altar of Apple but.. I love the I-Phone! Who knew? it isn't really a phone that is the secret. It knows where you are, and where the closest pizza is at all times? The Bhagavad Gita and Rg Veda, in Sanskrit no less are there for reference whenever I am in a contemplative mood, and soon it will be telling me what birds surround me, wherever i am, and playing their sweet songs for me. All that and I have only had it a week. Should i download Dress Up and Makeup? or Girl Wars That is listed for Girls only. At any rate the possibilites are endless, of course with a phone full of fab girly apps I will probably need to explore phone security. If it falls into the wrong hands? gasp! i would be mortified.

If only the I-Phone could smell. I think we could have quite a relationship.

The Simple Life

I recently had the occasion to spend a whole weekend as a maid, specifically as a sissymaid in training. It was the first time I had spent any time as a sissy maid, and i certainly went all in, spending from friday to sunday dressed every waking moment in frilly maid outfit, obeying various Mistresses, and generally trying to make myself useful, and pretty.

This is an experience I have generally approached as a sexual fantasy. I have done a lot of perusal of the ummm literature you might say. Simultaneous orgasm is when reader and story reach climax at the same time. But being a sissy maid isn't really like that at all. I mean it is a social role rather than a sexual role for the most part, and most of the time a sissy maid is well..just a maid! "Where is my wine glass?" and off i go perhaps wiggling a bit, but off on my mission. Find Mistress's wine glass, or fill Mistress"s water glass, or lay out Mistress's clothes or make Mistress's bed. Lots of little chores, cheerfully performed, dressed in fabulous satin with the cutest accessories. I mean you are not expected to carry out these duties without apron and cap and petticoats! Well maybe i got carried away with the petticoats! wandering through narrow corridors like a full masted schooner in the backyard pool. Things tend to get knocked over. "Oh clumsy maid!" sheepish look as i turn to see what has happened, and sweep a table full of dishes onto the floor. "Oh i am so sorry Mistress!" just the slightest tingle in anticipation of perhaps being just annoying enough to earn a small demerit and a spank! But the rules of this training are clear. No one is fooled that the maids tremble in fear of over the knee discipline. No the maids tremble in fear of missing out on over the knee discipline, and the Mistress's are not here to pretend otherwise. It is not psychodrama, more just PBS drama with the staff, (that's me) doing our dainty things, while more weighty matters are discussed over table or in the drawing room.

So why did I enjoy this so? Like the song says.. Gimme the simple life! I will grant you that 20 years as a domestic servant may not be the most fulfilling life, though I don't think that there is any element there that prevents living a fully realized life. There is time to meditate in the morning before the Ladies are astir, and of course the opportunity for mindful practice is very alive when doing "women's work" And when you spend what is a few days as a maid, well it can only be described as wonderful! Not that I would admit that to the other guys at the bar watching football and spilling beer, but...well i was a very good girl all weekend, and i earned every stroke that i got on my eager and welcoming bottom. Eat your heart out honey!

Feminized

Hormones. Specifically estrogen. For almost 3 years, I have through the good offices of the global internet market slapped a little patch of pretty on my derriere weekly, and watched the wonderful transformation as my sad male breasts began to blossom and swell. Hidden treasure, unlocked by the chemical key. And what other goodies, were in the treasure chest? I tried recently to do an inventory. The breasts, the slow beard, the little bit of flesh on my scrawny buttocks, maybe a softening of the face, according to someone who has observed me throughout. But what about the mood, what about the mind, the subtleties, the sex!?

The river never slows. Aging, meditation, and estrogen, a lovely way to spend a decade or two. Where one begins, the other ends more or less unknowable. I am calm, opening up, less self involved (o.k. only kidding) , a-himsa-- non-injury, the letting go of aggression, so there is less male aggressiveness, but i can't place it particularly in feminization, though meditation, feminization, they blend together.

What about emotion? A few of the Ladies have laughed at taking hormones, talking about the emotional roller coaster, but i think that emotional roller coasters come with the cycle of hormones, and i take hormones in an a-cyclical manner, though sometimes tuned to the moon cycle, i feel the energy peak at full moon time.

But there is definitely something there that is hard to lasso, I think I look subtley different, and i smell subtly different, and these blessings work a little covert magic. I know that I have acquired an attractiveness for a couple of heterosexual males, that might just be friendliness, but feels likes it has elements of courtship, some lunch friends.

and of course my body feels and smells different to me. The mirror is right there, and we are not playing dress up, and there we are, and we are certainly not very masculine looking with our breasts, and our smoothness of limbs, and desire comes so often so clearly through the chest, the breast, the breath.

In meditation, in quiet moments, energy moves up the spine, and through the chakras. In a sensual mood, energy moves up the spine, and congregates in the chest. If you touch the nipples, then it almost hurts, the feeling that arises and descends into the loins. At that feeling is such a femme feeling, that in imagination, you are transformed, boy no more, fully feminized, without fear (or is it hope) of return.

Is it live or is it memorex? don't know, honey, don't care. It is all there, always was, uncultivated, unrecognized, undermining the tall towers of masculinity. Now She emerges. She is not me, but she includes me. Let's me travel alongside, Queen Estradiol, and i Her devotee.

Boo!

Busy.. busy.. busy.. no time to journal as they say currently. Tons of work and the halloween shopping season to boot. I am the kind of nervous grrll that doesn't just flaunt it day and night. But this halloween, ..an example.. i had a long discussion of shoes and makeup with the charming young woman at the Payless and she helped me try on a bunch.. for my halloween costume. Well I bought three pairs. Everyday is halloween after all.

This halloween I go as Rose a drag queen of the 80's who i was good friends with for a bit in my life. I don't know where Miss Rose is today, though I suppose I could try to look up some of her old film projects, but i imagine that she is no longer with us, being out there wherever there is at a time when it was perhaps better to be in here. But we all have our time and our place, and we all end up shadows, and the more I think about it, I can't imagine that we could be anything more. So insubstantial arising in a moment, coming to know, ascending, filled with self and desires for what seems to have only been a summer, and then slowly slowly ceasing, and that is if we are lucky. But maybe that's just me. We are something more I imagine, it is just that we are something more than we. So time is short, and make-up to look like Rose well that is an effort involving heavy equipment, and ample time. So farewell and happy Halloween to all!

Not Very Cherry

After all the things that were inserted in slot A, who knew that that penii could go there too. And if it is just "toys" and not "boys" does that mean something different? Has something been gained or lost by it. coaxing patient and feminine boy into doing it? It is a bucket list item? But the boy didn't consummate so I think there is still more to be learned.

Hark. I surrendered my not very cherry to a sweet sissy after a couple of mojito's that I fashioned, and a nice dinner that i cooked wearing a vintage apron no less! I mean you have to have the apron, the accessories! He came as a boy, so that was even more exciting for me at this stage, to dress up and make a nice little meal for the boy who was coming over to stay the night, and doing it in vintage apron! That makes me a fetishist i imagine, thinking back to the apron as well as the boy. but i don't care for boys as I may have said. That is my story and I am sticking with it. No worries though because the boy was kind enough to transform into a girl. This story continues I imagine.

I saw that Lee Brewster was acknowledged on the Gender Variance website.

http://zagria.blogspot.com/ . That makes me very happy. More on the moi history. Should I in the interest of full disclosure give a listing of all the things that were inserted in slot A. Well I won't! and that is that! but I will say.. i mean well fruit of course. You have to know if you like that sort of thing, I never thought i did too much. One thing was is not to easy to do without letting your junk all hang out, and you know how this Lady feels about that if you have been reading, so for me.. anal stimulation has always been a sometime thing, at some point a duty.

But I need to think more. Even though I no longer well i don't care so much about orgasms and other such boyish nonsense, I do enjoy the snuggles and the huggles, and i love it when they help me achieve those imaginary orgasms. See previous post

Miss High Heels at the Mardi Gras

Lee Brewster if you don't recognize her. When I think of the unliberated experiences in the tranny journey, the long road. Imagine all the years, with absolute secrecy, purloining Mom's panties, and finally finding panties or a dirty old frock in the ultimate thrift store, the trash! It is a lonely life when you are sneaking back under cover of darkness to retrieve a treasure seen earlier, a pair of discarded panties. and then .. well into adulthood, well into your 20's, after just a couple of seven and seven's at the port authority bowling alley. (I wonder if those lanes still exist) to walk over to 10 th avenue, up a few stairs.. nervous enough to tremble, and to enter.. Paradise! Lee's queendom, Lee's Mardi Gras.. I still remember the first time. greeted by the kindly proprietor an older kindly fellow, somewhat effeminate, who must have seen a thousand like me. and coming over as i could barely look at the treasures. coming over and talking with me about waist cinchers! The first moments in my life talking to another human being about my secret desires, and he fitted me for one that day, and i bought ..that's right bought! my first pair of purchsed panties, and didn't my first bra, my first shoes, and my first wig follow soon enough. Thank you Lee Brewster! for getting me started.. a little tardy but making up for it with enthusiasm.

Lee Brewster is dead now, and has been for almost a decade. His "transvestite boutique" full of drag, and wicked stories was one of my favorite places to visit. I never evolved enough to go there enfemme while he lived, and now the store doesn't exist, and perhaps doesn't need to exist the way it once did. It once was a wonderland..dare i say a fairyland! I bought Miss High Heels and other classic works in sleazy bookstores a few blocks away, and they told me that my shameful fantasies were not singular. But Lee's showed me the joy behind it. I still have a few pieces from Lee's, but that old Lady Marlene waist cincher... well it did its magic.. and then burst asunder some time later. Lee was always an optimist.

The Hanged Man

Doomed. It is not an idea we embrace too much, but if you saw the Bills / Patriots game, and you have been a Buffalo Bills fan far too long to shrug it off, then you know what I mean.
Doomed When it is fate and it is fucked.
But it isn't justice because you don't have any particular idea that hubris was at work. It might be karma of course, but since it is collective, and the collective karma is visited upon a group of individuals who just got there, then justice is a stretch.
Doomed, and the Bills most certainly are, then so it is, but the Bills are nothing but a collection of innocents who receive their beating, and then move on.
Doomed And isn't all human effort essentially the same.
Doomed The wall against which the head is beaten, the savage god, who declares that as it has always been, the strong and the ruthless will thrive.

If this keeps up, I am going to give up these boyish tendencies for good.

Passing

The picture. Well that pretty girl is not me honey. That is what you get when you type in crossdressed with sunglasses into Google Images. And what I like about that girl and admire greatly is that She is passing honey, and I salute her. I sort of completed the set this weekend. Two years ago deeply closeted, I went out yesterday to a fair with a couple of gg's and a boy and a couple of girlz like myself, and I was crossdressed with sunglasses, and every once in a while, I was passing. With people so very tolerant today, how do I know?

This is what happened. I was at the ticket booth, with my money and giving it to the older lady, ( no not older than me! older than you!) She was counting out my change when I told the person next to me I would see them inside. I was looking right at her, when she showed the greatest surprise and burst into the most genuine laughter. I couldn't help but laugh myself, as she said.. enjoy the show.. still chuckling. Got to work on that voice of mine.

It did get me all thinking about the road travelled, the road still to travel, thirsty boots and all.

Travelling yesterday with my small group, all with their very interesting stories. army vets, and dominatrices, and shy boys with secret lives. I thought of the hidden stories of the uncelebrated, misunderstood. I was planning to start with mine, in the next entry. I wanted to periodically add the stories of others. Those who choose to remain anonymous, but who would like their story told. I would like those who are well along in their story.. The over 40 set, and who are in one way or another, from the transgender world, and who can relate to me the facts of their life in brief. I would only have one limitation. If you send the facts to my gmail account, I will ghost write that story as a blog entry. If it interests you, drop me a line. Otherwise, please anwer my poll questions. I would like to know who YOU are! You know who I am talking to.

What is with Drag?

I have had occasion recently to attend drag shows in Savannah and to go to LIPS INC NYC . I started thinking about drag when I run into girls who are dressed to the nines, at events where i in the name of a "natural" look, i look like something the cat dragged in circa 1971. So for some of these venues, I decided I needed a more "arch" look. I acquired breast forms and a corset, did the proper research in Savannah.. Thank you Club One! The secret of drag.. psst dont tell anyone but it is two words.. big earrings! So I got some big earrings too, and even dug my big hair out of storage. With a little help from my friends, I was ready willing and able to look fabulous, and i descended upon LIPS, with a few other more subdued lookers. What I saw there has me puzzled still, but in honor of Woodstock... let's have a flashback. It is 1983, and there is drag every weekend at the Flamingo in the West Village a few blocks from the current locale of LIPS inc. The entertainers are dressed in ballgowns and fabulous, the audience is men. The fabulous queens are generally willing to go out back with someone or home with someone for a little monetary consideration. The men.. well some are like me... looking to meet these fabulous creatures to be around them to absorb their aura, to become like them. I even dated one.. no really dated! and the other men were there because they wanted girls who had something special and who would do special things.. It was a way to end up having oral sex and not be gay is how i figured it.

So we show up at LIPS expecting a more modern version of same.. What a surprise to be the only person umm mature, formerly a heterosexual male, in drag! except for the performers, and wait staff who seemed to look at us..like ... "excuse me are you queens lost?!" Only in time honey. The whole audience was women , young women having batchelorette parties, and having birthday parties, and looking for a little innocent raunch with some fabulously accessorized males they wouldn't be expected to take calls from the next night.

What is the common denominator to these social changes. the Drag Queen doesn't pretend to be a woman, or aspire to be a woman too much. the Drag Queen is a proud to be an absurdly effeminate man, and the closeted men were, and the thrill seeking young women are looking for a man who isn't a man.

I have been flirting with the drag look in order to be more a woman.. by emulating a woman's shape, and taking the extra trouble to create a look. but at the heart of drag is a man in disguise, rather than a man transformed. At any rate that is my take, but don't ask me to give up my big earrings honey, I am wearing those until my ear lobes hand down to my shoulders.

The Music Playing in Your Head

Music, particularly music that my parents loved, sometimes just comes upon me. I always feel a certain warmth, a certain melancholy. It is not just that my parents are long dead, and the music evokes them, but that feeling is in the music itself. Perhaps we do live in happier times.

This blog should probably be split into two parts. Tales of tranny lust and life in one blog. Whimsy and the mysteries of the east in the other. At any rate, this entry is almost totally devoid of tranny lust, though there are hints of other more socially acceptable forms of lust. At any rate, in the category of whimsy, I have been trying to improve my sanskrit by translating popular music, having played with Dylan and Hendrix... " sAcigama bhaSaka Jimi abhigantum anujanihi" .. I will help you with that one.. "Move over Rover..." No more help. Like Joyce, I write for generations unborn. I am finding the old songs more adaptable to sanskrit rhythmns, and this song has echoes that I hadn't noticed before.

kuha vA kutra vA

etad manye / samAya pUrva AvAbhyAm /ekAnya samAloka prAcya

kutra na cetami kuha vA

vasamAnam ambarAn avasathAh / etad hasat sama purA

kutra na cetami kuha vA

karmani pUrva prAbhavan / karmani punar sambhava

khalu manye samAstavAhi pUrva /prahasAva pUrva / samgamAva pUrva

ka janati kuha vA kutra vA

Apologies to those who know for any grammatical errors. Anyone want to play?

In particular kacit khikhivat devi ?

Salokya

Salokya -- The liberated state of being in the same world as Devi or Krishna depending upon your gender preference in paradise. So it is time to choose a vacation. This is of course suffused with expectation and meaning. Vacationing alone means going somewhere, and doing something. The going implies there is a better place than where you are, and the doing implies that you are presently wasting your time, or something like that. And in my case, I have gone to places, the forested mountains of the East, and the Appalachian trail, or the desert vistas of the west, and found the divine there for a few days. I was speaking with a friend about travel brochures for guilt trips, and so we need travel guidance for transcendence.
So I always chose the cheap thrills, majestic landscapes with whispers of dead civilizations, the Goddess's toys littered about. But this time, I choose Savannah, asking questions like where can a girl find screw on earrings in Savannah? Where do MY people hang out. Is ambrosia available in a Go cup? Anyone with the proper brochure please let me know.

Castles Made of Sand

Cleaning house.. and running across an old notebook writings from the time of dissolution of a long long relationship. The most painful.. days of my life..
writhing under the whip of her indifference, page after page.. hope upon hope expressed, and yet at that point I had never revealed anything about my ummm gender issues.. which at the time I wasn't so clear about. Certainly didn't know any way to talk about them..that wouldn't end in disaster from my perspective. It is like it isn't that important, but everything was about the absence of affection..understanding that the boy part of me is not very affectionate at all, and i would have needed to let the girl out... so that i could feel more? perhaps..at any rate who was this person.. who wrote the following poem about himself.

Scarves and watch caps over bone
eyes overturned like headstones
and bags of rags and wrappings
in subway tunnels moving
through wakes of newspaper.
Grey skows slowly crossing the harbor

Murmuring through the fog


Days cast off and Nights discarded.
through vistas of mist shard upon shard
watch capped and satchel moored I comb
silver key once mine alone
to undo that once done
the rusting lock on her affection.


Loss total and inexplicable. A constant litany in this life.

The general wisdom would be that Belinda is a deluded soul. Constructing a feminine self from the least evidence. Lost in a mirror gazer world. Yet looking back at a younger more conventional self it is difficult not to see a sandcastle maker, and a rising tide. She loves me.. She loves me not.. and if She doesn't love me who will, and if no one loves me, then... well.... boo hoo. But a poor delusional sissy gurl can find comfort in a Goddess, and construct a self.. entirely. Next installment, Sanskrit translations of the classics.. the rock classics that is.

Imaginary Vagina II

In meditation, I frequently imagine my form as female rather than male. The prana rises through the nadas. The external form is illusory, the subtle body seems to me female. prana drawn in through the yoni. rising up penetrating the chakras..resting between the brows. I can do that now. It feels so real, prana entering through the gate of creation, the gate of maya. Sometimes I imagine myself one of 16 naked in a circle fingers touching. our breasts heaving under the cold clear moonlight, candra. Uduvasini, goddess, tripura saundari. moving clockwise, in the circle, dancing, and rising as we dance.. drawn by the rasa of Durga summoning the nityas, paricarinis. lighter dancing, and now corkscrewing and rising.. rising in the air... cool, filled with chilled light, slowly rising like heavy smoke. Up and up.. returning to Ambika, to Mahadevi

ka a e la hrim, ha sa ka ha la hrim. sa ka la hrim!

Imaginary Vagina

So who else has one? I know you are out there. You crazy Autogynephiliacs! For me the illusion is produced by tight tight panties, worn over carefully tucked male parts. Mine tuck real good because I have been doing it for years, so my poor little tessies, well they stay up north for a long time even when released from their cruel bondage! Well not so cruel really since the result is a very secure and complete feeling that I have a lovely lovely pussy, and not one of those nasty cocks. i mean you can touch around it, and opening and closing your legs the illusion is complete. I realize that this puts me !gasp! close to you know those gender dysphoric transexuals, some of whom I have met, who seem to suffer so much, and make radical choices and.. well I .. i just don't feel that way except for my IV.. for the love of IV! IV! The Mama's and Papa's knew.
So having one, I just love to touch myself..sometimes, but of course touching can reveal the shortcomings of an imaginary vagina. But usually even if I dont touch myself or maybe just touch my so so sensitive breasts, then there is such a powerful illusion, feeling it get all warm and sensitive.
I always sleep with my Imaginary Vagina, even when being a guy all day and night. I have even gotten all kinky and imagined.. lying in bed that I have a penis. trying to imagine it getting big and hard. But I don't do that very often. But I have come a long way from a happy cock pulling panty fetishist. I was so ashamed. But what is the shame in imagining you have a lovely lovely vagina. So why haven't I ever told anyone except you dear reader. Wouldn't you love to touch it? I bet you would.

Among the Leather People

Attended a picnic today. Me in a sort of semi-drag, since I wasn't going to know hardly anyone, and anyway it was raining, I mean at this point around here, we are well past the cats and dogs and moving into Biblical territory. Some soggy judgement has been rendered. This was a barbeque hosted and attended by leather people. That is my term, not everyone was wearing leather. In fact no one was. It is all about scenes discussed and play anticipated. Pony play, cane play, fire play, knife play, The plays the thing, Doms and Dommes and subs. I guess I expected more overt scenes. This was a munch and a barbecue so it was largely a bunch of men and women in shorts or jeans, sharing food, little liquor with one painted nails and face, ancient androgyne wandering among them. The frisson of dominance and submission was submerged in this cosy gathering of friends. What can I say? While I am just short of horrified by some of the things that consenting adults at that barbecue do to each other, I am enamored of Mistress and sissy play, and I was hoping that the two yellow ribboned pigtails in my gray mane, might cause one of the Ladies present spontaneously start ordering about, while smiling in amusement as I abase myself in utter and fabulous humiliation, stripped to bra and panties. Alas.

Talking later with my sister about some particularly awful things going on in her life, I was struck by the sensible attitude of the Leather people. To quote the Incredible String Band: " Maya Maya.. All the world is but a play..be thou a joyful player....

All the world is the Goddess' lila. Mahamaya. I am not a transvestite, or a transsexual, or a bisexual fetishist. I play at them, as I once played at being a husband and a father.

For all you who are into shoe play, image of Devi Kroell creation from Shoe Goddess website

Housecleaning

Living in a house with a former lover and planning to sell it, throwing things out, is a task that can easily eat up a weekend. And the little things that lurk in corners and crannies emerge again. Abhijnana, the sanskrit refers to the tokens of remembrance, I may not be Krapp, but i have a lot of crap, notebooks from former lives and forgotten lives, so it is that a notebook casually opened, reveals a diary more than 35 years old, and the thoughts of a younger self, all forgotton until the token brings them back.
Thoughts about an ancient lover, before it all became a habit of years, and before it all became dust and ashes. With regard to a once proudly embraced sang froid,

"Is it an honest reaction against love that would mold me or is it impotence, death of honesty, and the hidden vice"

Later the author discretely allows that

"Certain books were disposed of"

Yikes! couldn't those classic works of transgender erotica, Miss High Heels I would guess. http://www.castlekeys.com/library/Pages/misshh.html

even be refered to in private notebooks? Apparently not, and so hiding and throwing out things became the habit of decades until seriouls things got thrown out.

And the notebook has enough bad poetry to fill a girl's school. the best I humbly publish, this gem hidden in drawers for decades finally sees the light of day. A publishing event of note. Perhaps the literati can be drawn to this blog.

I
Amnesic burrowing creature
in tunnels undre cold earth
silently
sing

Need better poetry?

The forgotton self had copied a poem for that long ago lover

"In the void air towards thee
my strained arms are cast
but a sea rolls between us
our different past."

http://www.iment.com/maida/poetry/arnold.htm#parting

lure of chastity II

In some fundamental ways the brahmacarin and the sissy maid have come to chastity by very different paths. The ascetic road to chastity is based upon a renunciation of the sensual. Sensual and particularly sexual gratification are avoided so that the mind may be concentrated upon an eternal and changeless state. in tantric traditions, the sensual is not turned from, but rather sublimated. The devotee does not turn so much as the experience is turned. This later path is said to be riddled with lures and traps by which the devotee is brought low, succombing to the power of Kama, and reduced to a sensualist.
The sissy maid comes to chastity in order to concentrate the submissive mind upon the tasks which must be accomplished, the pleasure and service of the Mistress. Allowed sexual gratification, the maid is said to be intent only on their own pleasure, and then when satisfied turned away in shame or indifference, ready for the next distraction. Chastity with the enforced end to the cycle, concentrates the mind in that state where self gratification begins; in concentration upon the beauty and authority of Mistress. Perhaps our saucy little maid has been lured by Kama to this state of surrender and now they are helpless to undo it. Yet both have opened the gate, to devi's entrance, and do not each on a full moon night lying in their solitary beds felt the tingle and the hum. And that which is beyond words, and which does not reveal itself in pictures, Kameshvari, the Queen of desire. I prostate myself before her and all her manifestations.

The lure of chastity

" Brahmacharya is the basis for the attainment of Kaya Siddhi. Complete celibacy must be observed. This is of paramount importance. By the practice of Yoga the semen becomes transmuted into Ojas-Sakti. The Yogi will have a perfect body. There will be charm and grace in his movements. He can live as long as he likes (Iccha Mrityu). That is the reason why Lord Krishna says to Arjuna: “Tasmat yogee bhava Arjuna—Therefore, become a Yogi, O Arjuna.” "

quote from Swami Sivananda

What do brahmacarya and the CB-3000 have in common. Why is everyone suddenly wild for chastity? Traditionally chastity is said to allow the concentration of powerful energy which allows the chaste brahmacarin to attain new heights of spiritual fulfillment. The sissy maid locked away in his device, does he not also experience the concentration of powerful energy! and what is that energy. If the root of the loss of energy is in the spilling of semen, then the brahmacarin is perhaps subtly transforming to a brahmacarini, by the retention and conversion of semen to something more important and dare I say more feminine. The ejaculating penis concentrates all consciousness upon itself waves of energies expelled. When this ceases, or never was, energy and consciousness are more diffuse, sexual energy is now more feminine. The chaste sissy experiences heightened arousal in his nipples, does he not?

I wouldn't wear a chastity device because it would ruin the feminine look of my panties so important. There is always a let down in subsequent meditation when I succomb and going to far with my feminine imaginings, I make my panties wet. But it seems to me that a female can function as a sexual being without enslavement to the tyranny of the penis. In aspiring to a female ideal, i can practice brahmacarya, while still fully experiencing my body as a sensual and sexual thing.

The sissy stereotype is a tantric ideal, indefinite delay of orgasm concentrating the mind, whether it be on serving the particular female who holds the key or concentrating the mind back into the anima, the female forms that lurk inside, and which are hungry for Devi.

What sissy his male embarassment locked away by a wise Mistress does not experience increased grace and charm in his movements as he swishes his skirts so prettily feeling feminine power.

To some these images and comparisons may seem odious, but to this sissy and tantric practitioner they seem apt, and these parallels worth exploration.

Pressing Buttons

Isn't that what it is about? pre-wired like my friend on the left or dynamically wired. Touch it and I shiver. Rub it and I sigh. At one age it was, touch that.. touch that warm round breast, and the feeling was a thrill and a hunger, which cried out touch more. (step close to my friend and she rises up, Devi, in anger protecting) At another age it is touch my warm round breast, and i .. melt and sigh and want to kiss you. (step away from my friend, and she returns to idleness and the complete indifference of the goose to human concerns) So you get re-wired, by way of a fetish, which is morphed to a fantasy, which evolves into an obsession, which resolves as an identity. boy becomes panty wearing boy becomes sissy boy in dresses, becomes the girl inside the boy who masks the girl. but it is still buttons, pressed, and buttons rubbed, and buttons fingered. Keys are pressed and the sonata is a thousand bouncing babies, the Goddess in Her lila, turning and tranforming us, over and over and over. A cock to a clitty is pretty minor. Do you recognize any of those eggs there?

The Girl Inside

I wonder sometimes: What am I up to sexually? which is not the same question as What am I up for sexually? I no longer masturbate as I once did which was to dress a little, fantazize a little get myself worked up to a point back off back up ... off... save some really exciting story or pictures or thought.. and go up up up.... wheeeeee! I lost the motivation somewhere and just don't do it anymore. I thought for a time that I perhaps suffered from anhedonia.. but my hedonia is perfect now, but i just don't like having one of those things protruding with my fingers all over it and attached to me..i mean dare i say it.. yuck.

It has been years that except when explicitly male mode,

As explained a couple of years ago in my diary

Regarding other aspects… I am practicing a bandha that I think enhances
meditation but I don’t recommend it for you boychicks at home. The penis
is pulled back so that the head fits between the buttocks, the testicles
are taken up into the body cavity, and tight panties are worn so that the front
looks girlish and the position of the penis is secure.. Practice for
days.. May enhance the nada.. who knows

.that i wear my tight panties with my "junk" tucked away, and my panty gusset showing just the slightest swelling, oh joy. then I am happy to touch that..rubbing along the front with just one finger. but it is so sad not to have a vagina, and be able to slip those hungry fingers inside. All you girls out there ...lucky lucky!! but as i rub my poor impenetrable panty gusset, and move my happy fingers back and back, finally I can fell my little clitty nub, so sensitive! Makes me go ohh! makes me squeeze my thighs together without thinking. Makes me want to squeeze myself. and definitely push my my breasts together, encased as they so often are in my satin bra.. my black satin bra!

Imagine me with titties, little firm slightly sore, and oh so trembling titties! pushing at them. just tippy touching the satin that surrounds them. It feels so right to wear a bra when you have little titties. And now I just squeeze and circle with my fingers circle and circle avoid the nipples. and there is such a rush of feeling and such warmth down inside your panties, but not like a boy would feel.

And then let the sounds come out of you, the sound of feminine passion oh a little moan, and can you stand it.. can you really stand it.. because you are going to have to do it.. you must. both fingers simultaneously touch them the little hard hard nubs.. touch your nipples and they are so hard, and well it makes you sigh a sustained moan as it is there a feeling in the vaginal area and spreading over the loins and in the breasts and up the spine and warm in the back of neck... and you let go.

Any girls out there could tell me if I am on the road to a real female orgasm.. tell me tell me.. it doesn't climax and it can be revisited over and over.

Any scholars can tell me if this would disrupt practice of brahmacarya for purposes of increasing prana and attaining higher spiritual states?

I think that all of one's existence can be integrated into spiritual life, where there is love there is light.

sissy maid contest

Today I attended a sissy maid competion. No I didn't compete. I don't really think of myself as a sissy maid though wouldn't mind playing one for a day..ok maybe a week.. or.. well the second month is out I was a little blue this weekend so I wasn't enthusiastic, but i went and I had a great time. It is hard to stand out at one of these events, and some girls are stunning, but I went out and got some very orange nailpolish yesterday, did my toes, and then carefully polished some french manicure press on's. There was a bit of orange in my dress, and everyone noticed my look and i got some compliments. I can't help myself. I was so happy. I also met "two blonde dommes" who asked me if i was a sissy maid. I couldn't help myself, I lied and said I was. One just looked so great done up in Her own rags and feathers... very very hippy. That and I met an old sissy girlfriend, i haven't seen in quite a while so I had a lovely time.
Although my friend is rather depressed and a little depressing. He basically says that he is only attracted to younger girls say < 40 who he doesn't believe would ever honestly be interested in him, and that's before they find out that he has a powerful attraction to their vanity fair panties especially the "ravissant" pair in robins egg blue. (OK maybe that is me more than him) At any rate the competition was very fun and I had such a good time, and the best sissy won! No favoritism swayed the judges. Tomorrow is work. I wish I could say the same about that.

Desolation Angels

Does anyone remember that fine book? Kerouac believed in automatic writing. Unfiltered and unedited communication of the unconscious. This is sort of like that. And like an author penning the most intimate thoughts, who knows if anyone will ever read them.
At any rate, how can you wake up in the morning so evolved. I mean completely meditating, empty mind, in your girls body, and feeling everything the kiss breathing out just a few fingers past the intersection of the brows, you know that place, and your nipples sometimes tingle and sometimes there is a feeling as prana ascends up through your vagina... That is re-imagining yourself, and i even not this morning but not too long ago imagined that i had a penis and i could feel it sticking up and out so boyish.. over the rainbow.
and then in an afternoon and getting ready for a party and painting your toenails pumpkin color and playing with your hair and the party is just the most in the life people, the sissy maid competition and it is such fun, only you aren't competing and you wonder why and you don't know if it is fear or maybe you just really aren't maid that way, except so many nights eyes closed imagining a always the Aunties, and strict Ladies, and the boy under discipline and the maid dress... put it on now! nara paracini!
Too old too timid or too sensible. who knows. I just hope the party is fun. After all my first sissy boy-girlfriend will be there.

At your service

So I guess the way this works is you just start writing and 20 years later you have 800,000 words and your words live forever in the information even if you by that point are perhaps moldering. So I write because I need to understand myself. My name is Belinda but that isn't the name I am mostly known by since I am transgendered late in life, and usually male but this blog belongs to Belinda.

I have come to know a lot of trannies and sissies and t-girls and i have known quite a few women, married them, fathered them and oh right envied them, or did I?
Some of us want to be girls or why the big closets full of frou frou. Some of us want to be the servants of Women, or why the elaborate fantasies with curtsies, and yes Mistress and Mistress may I. Some of us never seem to have a clue.

Let's start with a simple concept: The gendered soul. Catholics and Mormons have gendered souls I believe. Jesus is a boy and you will be a boy forever and ever and ever. Damn! And the gendered soul is one of the ways of understanding the gurls. After all, if your soul is female but you end up in a male body, well that certainly explains a lot doesn't it? or does it. And why that error on the transsubstantial plane is so much more common than male souls trapped ..trapped I say in female bodies. Well who knows.

I guess I don't believe it. Me I am a hindu. well..i am not sure that if you are raised a catholic in the united states from european ancestors you could ever really be a hindu. But I chant the name of devi most mornings, and try to see Her, and feel Her and stay mostly chaste for Her and of course that is a wonderful kind of a religion for a tranny and a sissy. But of course like Belinda, Devi is a manifestation, a piece of the lila if a rather substantial piece, and the soul the Hindu Atman, the Buddhist soul.(or not) is genderless, gender free.

And wouldn't we all want to be that... or would we?