QUEEN ME
Welcome to my Amatory Garden.
The Amatory Garden is my little corner of the internet where I’ll bring all my favorite subjects: #Sexuality, #Eroticism, #Fantasy, and #Beekeeping together in a way that I hope interests you as much as it does me. I’ll bring books I’ve read to your attention relating to these subjects while sharing all the gratuitous bee pics from my apiary. At first glance, I know that this combination of topics might seem a little . . . odd, but if you’ll hang with me for another moment or two, I’ll open The Amatory Garden gates and show you what I mean.
In today’s post, I’ll revel in Queening and show you what I find so erotic about Apis mellifera, the Western Honey Bee.
First, for those who don’t know me yet, I’ll quickly introduce myself. My name is Rose Caraway, and I have what you might call a fertile and highly sexualized imagination. For over a decade, I’ve narrated erotic short stories at The Kiss Me Quick’s Erotica Podcast. I’ve been in a monogamous marriage for 27 years with “Big Daddy” Dayv Caraway, who is also my co-host and podcast producer. Together, we run a small Erotica publishing company called, Stupid Fish Productions. Big Daddy is my best friend and the man whom I lusted for since desire entered my consciousness. He affirms what I find erotic and enlarges my sexuality in all of the best ways a partner possibly can. And, (however cliché this may sound, I embrace it wholeheartedly) Big Daddy is the great love of my life. I’ll choose him over and over and over again.
In addition to the KMQ podcast, I’ve narrated many audiobooks, including Rachel Kramer Bussel’s celebrated series, Best Women’s Erotica of the Year, published by Cleis Press. My latest narration, The Big Book of Orgasms, Vol. 2, has just gone live as well and is available at Audible right now. And recently, I took my very first plunge into narrating a book from the nonfiction side of sexuality; the bible of #Cuckoldry titled Insatiable Wives: Women Who Stray and the Men who love Them, written by a renowned clinical psychologist, the ever-generous Dr. David Ley.
Audiobook sales are how we keep the lights and mic on in our sexy recording studio, so if you want to support our efforts by spicing up your erotic side, please peruse our audiobook library here.
Ok, let’s get to the good stuff!
My goal with The Amatory Garden is to examine and reflect on my erotic self while hopefully encouraging you to unlock your erotic self too.
Like a forager bee, I’ve been busy gathering information. I’ve been delving into non-fiction books and reading about the psychology of sexual fantasies and how eroticism, lust, and desire work together and independently in order to refine and better understand myself. I’m excited to begin sharing these examinations with you.
Are you ready?
As far as sex acts go, I’m very into what’s called ‘Queening,’ but it’s a different version than how Urban Dictionary ‘defines’ it. Facesitting is a huge part of the thrill, obviously, but breath play and denial are in there too. And further, the style of Queening that I enjoy involves a dash of cuckolding, where Big Daddy wedges the testicles of one of my dildos under his chin to stabilize it so that I can ‘ride one of my friends,’ while he performs oral sex on me. This thrilling idea originated from my husband and has quickly become a favorite go-to in the bedroom. Because of that stroke of genius, I now understand how and why compersion works so powerfully between us.
I have only ever had sex with my husband, but with our type of Queening, I can imaginatively play with anybody I want. And with the enthusiastic support of my husband, my mind and body get to go as wild and free as I want, within the safe confines of our bedroom or in the back of our van at the drive-in.
Before any facesitting takes place, there are acts of service.
When Big Daddy says, “Yes, my Queen,” or “Does my Queen need anything?” or “How may I service my Queen today,” I’m swept away to a fantasy realm where any possible desire I have will surely be satisfied. All I have to do is order it so. I do wrestle with twinges of guilt and uncertainty while playing this role, but I am getting better at it. It’s been pretty neat feeling my sexual confidence and capacity grow in this particular area. Some of that is due to David Ley’s vindicating book, Insatiable Wives. My sexuality is becoming what I always dreamed it would be.
It’s funny, I’m really not the type who subscribes to this kind of thing, but perhaps the Queen Bee is actually my spirit animal.
I work hard at writing and narrating erotic stories for my #LuridListeners, and my eroticism thrives magnificently within that context. But what I’m also ‘thirsty for’ is physicality, doing things that stimulate my curious mind and body equally. A few years ago, I became a #beekeeper, and another part of my sexuality unlocked.
Beekeeping fills my cup with an erotic energy that appeals to my primal self.
Do you remember that scene from Alien: Resurrection where Ripley is writhing in a sea of Xenomorphs? It was a very sexy scene to me, with strange insectile undertones that I just filed away to the back of my brain, not fully understanding what I was feeling at the time. Well, the day I prepped my very first hive for its new Queen, that scene flashed to the forefront of my mind and triggered an erotic heightening. A few things fell into place as the scene where Ripley tracks Newt to the queen Xenomorph’s nest in Aliens played in my mind. Seeing that massive creature lay all of those eggs was enthralling. Before you ask, yes, I have watched Xenomorph porn, and I like it. It's got a novelty to it that makes me smile and feel free in my sexuality, and a tiny bit curious to maybe try one of those impregnating dildos one day, lol!
Anyway, as I released my new Queen into the hive, I caught this glimpse into my femininity and my sexual genetic code, and I recognized that something regal was inside of me waiting to be explored.
After I became a more confident beekeeper, those powerful monarchical stirrings grew stronger.
There is only one reproductive female in a colony of honeybees; they are what are referred to as eusocial creatures. A virgin Queen emerges from her pupal cell into total darkness. The buzzing and movement of sixty-thousand other bees welcome her, but this is not her colony yet. She must claim it. She must be accepted. And the first step to ensure her acceptance is to eliminate the competition. The first Queen to emerge will try to kill all the other developing Queens, including the current ‘mother queen.’ To locate them, she vibrates her thorax against the honeycomb. This is called ‘piping’ or ‘tooting.’ The other developing queens hear this high-pitched, pulsing sound, and they respond with their own piping. (If a beekeeper is nearby, she can hear it too. The sound reminds me of a pulsing mosquito noise.) The Virgin Queen follows these responding calls and locates the cells of the other queens; she then chews a hole into the sides of every cell and stings each occupant to death. The Virgin Queen repeats this process until all other queens are eliminated. If another queen does emerge, then there is a fight to the death. Unlike workers, a Queen Bee’s stinger isn’t barbed. She’s a born warrior who can sting many, many times. I. Love. that.
The pheromones of this ruthless Virgin Queen begin to permeate and rouse the colony, but she doesn’t have that perfect ‘pheromonal appeal’ yet. She needs to head outside and take a couple of maiden flights, get a lay of the land because, after about a week, the urge to mate will become undeniable. She must mate well and be able to find her way back home. There are no exceptions. Honey bees are all about reproduction. And their efficiency is impressive.
Reproduction is the only force strong enough to make a Virgin Queen leave the security of her hive (unless it’s destroyed by predator or fire, etc.). Once she’s mated, the Mated Queen will produce a pheromone called ‘Queen Substance,’ and it must be potent enough to appease her new colony. If she doesn’t pass their sniff test, they will kill her--they can tell if she didn't mate well enough.
The Queen Bee is an alluring, indefatigable, non-monogamous creature.
When she takes her mating flights in Spring, her goal is to seek out genetic diversity to ensure her colony’s survival. And the only place to find an adequate supply of genetics is a few miles away, at a DCA—a Drone Congregation Area (up to 30k drones!). This is where drones (male bees) gather and wait for Virgin Queens to fly overhead, smelling of an irresistible compound called 9 ODA, and they go bananas for it. Their big black compound eyes are specially designed for spotting the long sexy abdomens of Virgin Queens, and when they lock on to that invisible 9 ODA ‘contrail,’ the drones’ powerful bodies are perfect for catching those quick-flying temptresses.
Drones work fast; there’s a lot of competition in a DCA. When a drone grabs hold of a Queen, he rams his endophallus into her and then ejaculates, filling her spermatheca (sperm sac) and then some. Then the drone bends backward and breaks away from the Virgin Queen, leaving behind his endophallus still embedded within her. Once a drone has fulfilled his reproductive role, he falls to the earth and dies. Soon, another drone latches on. And then another. A train of up to twenty drones can mate with a single Queen, each removing the endophallus of the previous ‘lover’ to insert his own instrument, and then he too breaks away with a little ‘pop’ and falls to his death.
Within seconds of releasing my very first Queen into the hive, I felt warm all over. The idea of being born for such a singular, crucial purpose seems burdensome and, yeah, maybe a bit antithetical to the ideals of feminism, but it’s also quite arousing. To be the sole bearer of offspring—the desired and revered mother is erotic to me. And to have a retinue surrounding me, feeding me, grooming me, transferring my unique pheromonal scent to the rest of the ‘colony’ . . . well, that invigorates something very deeply feminine within me as well.
Of course, I don’t believe men to be mere tools, but those who genuinely enjoy being the instrument for their Queen’s sexual fulfillment, yeah . . . Queen me, baby. I am all for that.
Half for me, half for you.
Rose Caraway
