Posts Tagged ‘sexuality’

shibari

The Pleasure Principle

The pursuit of pleasure takes the human soul down inscrutable paths, fueled by lust, and shrouded in darkness.

The energy that powers this chase stems from the id, that elusive and impulsive side of our psyche that drives our sexual instinct.

According to Sigmund Freud, the id operates on the pleasure principle, i.e., the idea that every wishful impulse should be satisfied immediately, regardless of the consequences. The id is not affected by the reality around us, nor by the logic or the everyday world. This primitive and primordial creature resides deep within the psyche, immune and ignorant of common things. Instead, it seeks immediate and total satisfaction.

If that fulfillment is attained, the id rests. Conversely, if the sought satisfaction is denied, tension and anxiety rise to the surface. The id demands attention.

The pleasure drive within the soul is strong, and we can find a clear correlation between sexual fulfillment and a state of calm, or happiness.

It is the primordial nature of the id that drives this lust. As stated previously, it cannot be denied. The id will not allow us to rest until its desires have been sated. The nascent need originates deep within our minds, but soon, it is our body that requires complete satisfaction. Therefore, it can be inferred that the deliverance of the id is paramount. The it seeks, wants, and needs to be put at peace.

There are many ways in which this satisfaction can be achieved, but at a basic level, humans pursue sexual gratification on a continuous basis. It is one of the supporting pillars of existence, both for the male and female sides of the spectrum.

The pursuit of sexual pleasure drives us on, and in a way, it is our guiding light. The sexual impulse grows organically and exponentially with every passing minute. If left unchecked and unsatisfied for too long, it will taker over our organism, thus creating a physical manifestation of the id’s basic instincts. The source of this anxiety is the id’s retribution for being ignored. And if left unchecked still, the sexual impulse will keep growing, swallowing all reasoning and blinding the subject with a thick mist of desire.

The Ropes of Willful Imprisonment

When the mind is in a constant of desire as a result of the id’s being forsaken, several chambers are created within the human psyche. Each of these chambers plays host to a different fantasy, a virtual extrapolation of the unfulfilled desire. The content of these fantasies range from the innocuous to the extremely violent, depending on many factors. Entire tomes could be written about the nuances and texture of human sexual fantasies, but in the context of this piece, we will focus on the Shibari chamber.

The art of Shibari takes its inspiration from prisoner-restraining techniques developed in feudal Japan. Hemp ropes with elaborate knots would be used to hold and restrain prisoners. Over time, this entered civilian life and evolved into an art form in which ropes are used to braid and restrain both males and females.

Shibari is exquisitely complicated to pull off, as some of the knots require great skill and complexity to accomplish. Nevertheless, the end result is a beautiful combination of fetishism and unconventional sensuality.

Yet the ropes wrap and braid more than skin and flesh. It is the id’s hungry desire that’s been subdued. The most intimate sexual desire of man or woman is manifested on those ropes, via the id. The need for submission, to relinquish control to another human being, is a clear manifestation of the id’s craving.

The rigger’s craft depends on the willingness of the subject to offer his or her body to be bound, and if such willingness exists, a sensual bond is established.

The ropes that crawl in a serpentine motion around the human curves, muscles, and cavities draw the id’s nectar out, pleasing it, placating it with a clear and unequivocal intent. The knots decorate the human canvas, and as they do, they enslave the id, subduing it and taking it to its rightful place of solace and sexual rapture.

Azure dreams

Posted: July 23, 2016 in Erotica
Tags: , , ,

demonlover

She glides towards him, her bare body moving elegantly across the fathomless ocean, describing a perfect arc around the moonlight’s reflection on the azure surface.

He remains motionless, merely waiting. His body is as bare as hers on this warm summer night. The haste of unfulfilled lust burns bright within him, just as the memories of a thousand nights of shared passion linger inside her.

Even gods despair sometimes, he thinks, and a little smile draws upon his lips.

She notices, and stops. Looks at him, looks at that beautiful smile of his. How his lips crease up, how the soft lines of his face become somewhat deeper, and certainly more alluring.
Time has ceased to exist for the pair. They’re gods, after all, and gods and goddesses care not for such mundane things. In this place, and in this moment, only them and the moonlight truly matter.

She resumes her advance, and this time, it’s his turn to gaze at her.

She moves swiftly, effortlessly, her long, crimson red hair trailing behind like a thick veil. The dark, ochre tones of her skin shine with a beautiful golden hue tonight. The silver luminosity of the night imbues her body with a gorgeous, somewhat unearthly glow.

He moves for the first time, and raises his strong arms. He says ‘Up’ as he does this, and a thousand white doves fly up into the night. The birds briefly outline against the moon, and shadows dance and leap across her body as she approaches him.

‘A god’s whim, how remarkable,’ she says.

‘I could unhinge the stars if I so desired,’ he answers. ‘Yet, my desire is more focused tonight’.

‘A god’s desire.’

‘Indeed.’

He moves again, and they are so close to each other now that he can see her breasts rise and fall as she breathes the night air. She can now see his whole body, the hardness of his shaft barely concealed by the translucent waters. She smiles wryly.

‘A thousand years hence, we may be still bathing in these very waters. But tonight, all of you belongs to me, my Lord.’

‘Only lust is eternal. The wheel of fate spins endlessly, yet, all that truly matters is the desire in the heart of gods, just like it does on men. It is the engine of life. Rise.’

As he uttered this word, a pleasant tingling sensation enveloped her, and her body lifted off the water. It rose slowly, effortlessly, describing a beautiful ascending curve over the horizon. Water dripped from her legs, and as the goddess’ slender body soared, two dolphins jumped under her. The animals disappeared below just as suddenly as they had appeared.

She smiled as he drew her body towards him. She offered no resistance. Instead, she shook the excess water off her hair, and as she did, a myriad dragonflies materialized. A colourful kaleidoscope of light rose into the night, each of the insects shining with a different shiny hue.

‘I have party tricks of my own, my Lord.’

‘So I see.’

He also now rose, and met her body in mid-air. Their union was perfectly smooth. He entered all the way into her just as the luminosity from the dragonflies faded out. She moaned, long and true, and embraced him. Wrapping her legs around his waist she welcome him in deeper.

‘The power of a thousand orgasms shall fill you tonight. It is a God’s due to atone your body for an eternity of pleasure lost, vanished forever in the maelstrom of redemption.’

‘A God and a gentleman,’ she whispered, and gave fully into him.

The azure below turned deeper. Rising and falling sunlight would come and go. Aeons passed, and yet, a God’s passion is endless.

sexualhell

When your life is ruled by desire, where does the road to fulfillment end? When one’s existence is an endless sexual fantasy, how does one’s mind find rest and tranquility?

There is an energy that’s both vital and dark, and when it flows through you, every nerve ending and every pore secretes sin. And there is another side to us, isn’t there. A relic left behind by the heathen gods of sex and impurity, the lust and the ardor of long gone deities that guide the bodies of men and women as they fuck, playing with our bodies like wily puppeteers.

And what is sin, but the gift bestowed upon mankind to find out who they truly are. It is the tool to self-realization and freedom. Sin is the key that must turn twice before opening the portal to the other side of us, where the id slumbers, and breathes, and whispers things that feed off sin, and viceversa. The mind vicariously plays a tag game with darkness and the light, and in the realms of fantasy and devotion to the sinful reality, light does not always prevail.

So an obsidian night is inside of me, dark as a mother’s womb, and the force of arcane runes simmers right beneath my eyes, and in the heat of the moment, the puppeteers laugh and play their serpentine game of hide and fuck.
Desire is the bride in black, the maniac with a grin, and the ghost of your own fear. Desire speaks to you, sometimes loud enough to drown out the voice of reason and correctness. Desire takes you with the same impunity as an incubus fucks a sleeping female. Desire is the shadow that stalks your conscience, the mask that conceals the true face of your animal instinct. Desire is impish, and pitiless. It is cruel, too, for it strikes at any time, and the cravings are not always easily fulfilled.

There is a darkened room inside the id, a crawling space with only a sliver of clarity piercing its hollow. The animal instinct sits there, waiting. Not quite asleep, but not quite awake either. For some, it never rises. For some, the animal sleeps an unjust slumber, quietened by the aversion to reveal itself, its flame quenched by fear, and repression.

But others embrace its wicked charm, and absorb the power of its lure. The instinct awakens, breaking free of its moorings, and takes you over. And at that moment, the ties that bind your freedom are severed, and the beast is loose and ready to do your bidding.

There is no altruism in the beast’s intentions, nor there is pity, or a sliver of care. When those cabalistic instincts take over, the darker side of the id unsheathes its scepter of pleasure, and smites down anything in its path. Desire, as eternity itself, is relentless.

So the bride in black walks down the lingering shadows of the human body, ravaging men and women alike, for desire is not just the property of man.
And I’d rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints, as the song goes.