Our Bodies are Amazing

Whip marks

Our bodies are amazing. It’s simply true. Our skin is this incredible material which holds our innards in despite gravity, tearing, impact, burns, and broken bones inside its casing. Pain is this amazing tool that our bodies offer us in conversation. It proves a malleable experience which we can turn up or turn off the noise of depending on our emotional fortitude, our expectations, and our perception of our safety in that given moment. BDSM plays with these things, allowing us to find newer and newer spectrums of control through sheer force of will, and with the survival intelligence we are gifted from experience. Trust is built through trial and error, and over time our lines in the sand about what we believe we can tolerate moves further and further into the wild. Humans were built for adventure, for physical fortitude, and for intellectual and emotional growth. We get bigger from trying new things and from digestible challenge.

Mummification

I am grateful that I’ve found these communities of people who are as interested in what their bodies are capable of, what their hearts are capable of, what their creative intellects and wills are able to accomplish, as I am. I am proud of what my body has shown me it’s happy (and sometimes unhappy but able) to take. New experience after new experience has taught me more about myself than comfort ever could over the years. I am repeatedly astonished when my desires shift from fear and rejection of an idea, to intrigue, to want, and oftentimes to ease.

There was a moment in time (just a moment) when I considered being punched and “rough body play” to be an awful idea, I thought “who does that?!?!”… The very next day I was punched in a scene and as I felt the deep reverberations echo through my torso, sending pleasure to parts of my body I hadn’t felt come alive for a very long time, I knew this was one of my favorite things. I was angry that being born female had taken these feelings away from me for so long. Getting beat in scene was a reclaiming of my own skin and bones, an emotionally powerful and moving new understanding that I was capable of so much more than I had known.

Needles

Another awe was found hanging 20 feet above a crowd of hundreds with only 2 hooks pierced through my shoulder skin holding me up. I felt my skeleton and organs trying to escape the meatsack I am alongside gravity. Epidermis, I kiss your virtues. Pain is a mindgame where fact and fear wrestle it out over intense sensation, and the journey is a classroom of information recalibrating one’s reactions for many future moments to come.

If you want it to.

The offer is open to everyone.

Dare to walk on fire with someone who knows how, and you’ll learn.

Recently I found myself with fistfulls of needles, pricking, suturing, and tying flesh in formations I hadn’t ever done before. It was beautiful. A love of blood satisfied for the evening, and my sadistic pleasure centers served well. Balls tied to the ceiling and pulled on with weights, labia and nipples sutured and strung up as well, two human animals who love one another and who offered me their flesh I tied together, then needled ribcage to ribcage, and corseted together with string on the bed which was our playground… The chemicals of connection, a practice of breathing, the fuel of trust and desire, and an electrifying sensation from every spark of energy in the room passed back and forth between us all as minutes turned to hours. From this I was high and happy and grateful.

Never cease to be amazed.

Play On My Friends,
~ Creature

Please support my work on Patreon. For one time donations click here: Support the Artist 
~Thank you.

We Make Mistakes

Todays blog is brought to you by adults not jumping into drama when something goes wrong, but talking things out instead. It takes courage to admit you’ve made a mistake. Yet everyone makes them and has to learn to face them when they occur. I made one recently, and while they never feel good to deal with, it’s important to figure out what to do rather than kneejerk react. Throughout my life I’ve found that facing my fear of being in trouble is a more helpful coping mechanism than running away. Respect is an important part of being in community, and though not everyone will be friendly or happy together always — or even like each other fundamentally — I think how we choose to connect with one another matters on a larger scale. It certainly helps alleviate stress over time.

Recently I was at a BDSM play party, and I spent a little time chatting with a submissive person who I had met at a prior event. We were talking about a particular pain toy I enjoy using, and he seemed interested in seeing how it worked. I brought it to him and we moved fairly organically from a quick demo of the toy, to having a lot of fun together, and a pretty solid scene developed between us. What I did not know in this equation was that this particular person was the property of another partygoer. Mid play he mentioned I shouldn’t mark a certain part of his body. I stopped cold. It is a pretty big faux pas to play with someone else’s property without asking first. It’s something I care a lot about respecting, as I would never intentionally cross someone else’s play boundaries. I asked this sub if I should be asking someone for permission to play with him, and his expression immediately turned sheepish. I was informed that yes, he was in fact there with a Mistress…

I felt awful. I didn’t know his Mistress, I had just met her that day, and the last thing I wanted to do was approach her and tell her I had played with her toy without asking. I could have gotten angry and made a scene about it. I could have stopped playing with the sub and not addressed his Mistress, hoping she wouldn’t find out. I could have thought, “whatever, we’ve gone this far already, he’ll sort it out on his own with her later,” and continued to play. I could address the matter with his Mistress then and there and hope for the best. This last scenario is the one I chose. I scolded the sub for putting me in a very uncomfortable position (and I chided myself for not thinking to proactively ask). I told him to follow me as I made my way into the dungeon to seek out his owner. When I found her, I asked if I could play with her sub. She said that I could, and I informed her I had already started to, and that I hadn’t realized I needed to ask her permission first, and I apologized. She seemed a little taken aback, but after a moment looked at me and said, “thanks for letting me know”. She then went about her business, and the sub and I went about ours. He apologized to me for not letting me know sooner, and took responsibility for not saying anything early on. After sufficient acknowledgement of our feelings about the situation, we continued our scene and continued to have a great evening. Fortunately, I don’t feel my relationship with him or his Mistress was compromised. I would definitely have worried about that if she’d found strange marks on him later without my apology attached to them.

Scenarios like this one are tricky, and happen frequently. I’ve noticed similar conflicts within polyamorous and BDSM circles, and (actually pretty frequently) monogamous people who cheat rather than examine their non-monogamous impulses. People lie. People don’t tell the whole truth. People manipulate situations and other’s perspectives through lies of omission to get what they want. People get caught up in unexpected moments of desire and feel all kinds of feelings when they realize they’ve violated agreements or relationship boundaries with their actions. Life is not as clean cut as most humans would like it to be. I think it’s admirable to face the mess and try to help reality function more smoothly.

I live for my relationships and ties to people I care about. It matters to me that I face my mistakes when I know I’ve stepped in something I shouldn’t have. I’ve been lied to and cheated on multiple times in my relationships, and I don’t want to cause the hurt and mistrust in people that I’ve been made to process myself. Am I perfect? Hell no, I am not. I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life and I’m sure my score won’t ever be a perfect one. I do try and face the things I know I’ve fucked up about though. At the end of the day I’ve found it’s brought me closer with many people and cut a lot of drama out of my field of vision.

It’s normal to feel fear and not know what to do or freeze up, and it’s human to be graceless, or not understand the consequences of our actions. It’s impossible to know everything the people around us think we should know, but I also think it’s important to care about doing better. It’s important to cultivate fortitude and resilience and learn from our mistakes. Not everything in life is about “getting it right”, but growing and learning and becoming bigger than we already are is one of the things we get to keep working on. Reaping the rewards which living a vibrant and nontraditional life can bring you does require sacrifice: courage against the pain of fear.

Play On My Friends,
~ Creature

Please support my work on Patreon. For one time donations click here: Support the Artist 
~Thank you.

Journey to Dirt

In the beginning there was mucous, blood, grey and purple skin. There were cacophonous sounds and everything was light. Hands on your body, sensation of your own cry, coughing up the fluid from inside. Cold steel, warm blankets, pinpricks, trembling hands passing the new body around, the breath of your parents on your face, or not. It is romantic to think it was violent, that moment of your birth, it is arrogant to believe it was not.

Everything had changed.

Growth happened over the years. Plague and fear. Your unlimited curiosity stabbed by the million laws. Gratefulness is replaced with unrealistic needs. Things. A shopping spree of ballcaps, TVs, the latest brightener, soothe-goop, popstar jewels extracted unethically from third world thighs, and cattle crying in the fields for tenderer meat… Somewhere inside we must be trying to find the womb, swim against this tide, get back to our shuddering mucous covered muteness. Peace within ineptitude — now achievable through only our greatest sins. Sex by numbers is a game we placate our inner demons with, not seeing they grow wilder at the smell of our rancid unused groins… We need these demons, telling us who we are and what we’re meant to be. Lubricating oils spontaneously produce, made of scented atoms which open our chests to one another, engage the feral beasts underneath. The most natural thing is to growl as two and four-legged pheromones pass us. Sweat is the Goddess we were warned about.

Instead we play at it, repress, shame, shroud in silence, and ignore the harmonic dance of life.

We turn on the telly to remember how it goes: fuck when you see fuck, cry when you see cry, or sometimes rigidly sit in flaccid bewilderment while the clown fails to connect with you. These choreographies were meant for flesh met times. We aren’t learning an authentic dance.

The edge of a cliff looms. Stare down the slick walls of your erectness and the whole world seems opportunity to procreate. Unpracticed we fail and fail again, jizz impotent. Tissues, a hand. Silent. Waste without the divine intertwined.

You forget you are holy.

The most natural thing is touching yourself. Feel the hum of blood, rise and fall of sunshine in your chest. The most natural thing is wanting others, give and take, dark roots, bright moon.

Sip in the air, open up your chest. Oxygen works its way from center to the infinity above your head and depths down. Extend your range, aim to horizon and beyond, it’s what you are here for. Fill Universe with sound and light, your mucus filled lungs and mini images of you flying into the vastness. Again! Again! Thrive! Find delight! Seduce, ground, recognize this road lined in shining mica to the dirt.

Silence lies sold to you for comfort.  Bad exchange, believing yourself worthless, unwhole, made wrong, incomplete, or meant for less.

We are powerful and brilliant. Older siblings reaching hands to help the next. We are frustrated beetles covering the windowsills of this house, trying forever to stay warm and get the fuck out. We are hardy and hopeful, shaking the Earth, stepping on ground given us which someday will swallow all whole. Fall into soil. Risen from sex. Lived wary of love or discovery, no true release. How do we Gods master time before bugs carry corpus away? Smell of rain and soil is calling from your cunt. We learn to play.

Play On My Friends,
~ Creature

Please support my work on Patreon. For one time donations click here: Support the Artist 
~Thank you.

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