Tantric Massage Surrey Archives - Page 2 of 2 - Mature

The Penis – a Tool of Love or a Weapon of War?

It constantly amazes me how “struggle” and “battle” have been written into the patriarchal narrative. I sit in my garden and observe the level of harmony, collaboration and symbiosis there is all around me.

Scientists are catching up and are beginning to confirm what indigenous cultures – people who live on, and with, the land – have always told us and what whores always knew – the natural world is perfect, ancient, mysterious and magical.

There is much harmony for us to observe and learn from. We would do better to observe and learn, rather than seek to enforce our will over it.

But power over is an intrinsic part of patriarchy.

Elite power over everyone else.

Male power over women.

White power over non-whites.

Human power over the natural world.

Sitting on top of this pyramid of power, his ever present, judgemental eye watching over us, is the patriarchal God.

From the beginning he was a vengeful, stern, and strict parental figure. His “love” has always been conditional on our behaviour, his judgement of women has always been harsher than his judgement of men (just ask Eve).

But he was not the first deity to be worshipped and he knew it.

The Old Testament is a series of directives from God via his Levite priests to destroy the peoples, cultures and religions that came before him.

In the world before God, women had far more status and power. It was through women that communities worshipped Goddess. Thus, to destroy the peoples, cultures and religions of pre-God communities you needed to destroy the power of women.

To do this God committed what this whore considers to be the greatest crime against humanity, he turned the penis from a tool of love, into a weapon of war.

In the God approved model of sex, as first practiced by Adam, men were instructed that the correct and only appropriate way to have sex is in the man-on-top “missionary” position.

This position gives men enough pleasure to come, but rarely gives women much, if any, pleasure. Adam’s first wife, Lilith, left him rather than suffer any more sex that didn’t include her pleasure.

She was right to leave him, devoid of pleasure, sex becomes a violation of a woman’s sacred space. Devoid of pleasure, penetration is experienced by the body (and I emphasise by the body i.e. the vagina) not much differently to rape.

But God went further, hell hath no fury like a patriarchal deity after complete ownership and control of ALL the land and ALL the energy from ALL the peoples living on the planet. “Raping” women nightly in miserable monogamous marriages (the kind detested by Goddess) wasn’t enough.

Rape was to be used as an act of war against the women of every community that did not surrender and submit to the new male God.

Recorded in page after page of frankly deranged writing in the Old Testament rape, in the cause of the new religion, was deemed a “good” thing which “God fearing” men did to prove their devotion and commitment to their new God.

If you think raping women was only part of the initial establishment of patriarchy, you’d be wrong. Rape using a penis or other device including, for example, hot metal rods (during the witch trials) has been used for thousands of years to punish, suppress and oppress women for being women.

Rape is as prevalent today as it ever was. Young women headed off to university are now advised on ways to avoid being raped by their male class mates as a routine part of their orientation days.

The most commonly used weapon of war in rape? Yes, you’ve guessed it, the penis. Specifically, an erect penis. Patriarchy succeeded in turning a tool of love into a weapon of war, one which has done immense harm to the collective feminine across centuries creating our, not surprising, love-hate-fear relationship with erections.

Women giggle at, sneer at, avoid looking at, fear, judge and even shame what was once unanimously seen by men and women as a “Shaft of Light”. The lingam (Sanskrit for shaft of light) or penis, has always had the potential to be a giver of profound bliss and joy, a means by which the vagina is lit up – activating and connecting the woman to deep stores of energy within her body by which she transcends the everyday, material reality to spend time dancing in the heavens.

It’s the same body part and yet with different information, and different intent, it can be used either to activate or to kill a woman’s power.

Just as a kitchen knife can be used to create delicious nourishing food or to inflict deep wounds and even death in another person’s body. It is not the knife, or the penis, that is dangerous. It is what the person wielding both knife and penis intends to do with them.

Devastatingly, boys raised in Judeo/Christian “civilisation” have been raised with patriarchal programming which means even when a man does not consciously intend to do harm with his penis, because of his ignorance, the patriarchal model of sex, exploitative porn and his own unacknowledged trauma (for example infant circumcision) he unwittingly shames, shuts down or violates a woman’s sexuality, and sadly, rape is a far, far more common experience for women than most men are willingly to acknowledge or admit.

And it doesn’t have to be this way!

This whore knows that when a man is reconnected to the divine love that he can channel through his lingam he is reconnected to the divine masculine power of giving. This is the miracle (i.e. a change in perception that changes everything) that we are ready for.

Because powerful, sovereign people are difficult to control, patriarchy purposefully disconnected men from their greatest power. The power of a man to give a woman deep, deep pleasure and to journey with her, and through her, to magical realms, lifting both of them out of, and beyond, their mundane, material existence is literally infinite.

The penis was not designed to harm women, it was designed, rather marvellously, to heal and love women.

From the base of the shaft all the way up to the tip of the glans are reflexology points that when gently pressured send healing energy to different parts of the man’s body. Not just any energy – sexual energy – the most potent, powerful, creatrix energy on the planet!

Rather perfectly our bodies are designed in harmony with each other: the vagina has corresponding points.

When a penis enters a pulsating, vibrating, alive vagina the penis activates her points passing energy from him to her and because she is throbbing with pre-orgasmic and orgasmic pleasure the supple walls of her vagina massage the length of his penis activating his points, sending her loving and healing energy into his body.

It’s magical and it’s perfect.

But, obviously denied to all humans, male and female, in the pleasure-free model of sexuality so beloved by patriarchy.

A fearful, shut down or resentful vagina will not be pulsating with pleasure. You may be able to push into her and pump until you empty your ball bag, but you have missed the entire magical point of sexual connection. The time spent in coitus, penis in vagina, is a sacred time of deep healing, deep connection and the opportunity to transcend the mortal realm.

Man-fearing feminists are right to reject a model of sex that causes harm to our bodies. They are right to erect boundaries and firmly voice their NO.

But I believe they are deeply misguided to reject men along with a harmful model of sex.

It is not men’s fault that they have been encultured into a brutal model of sexuality that looks and feels like rape for far too much of the time. It’s what we have all grown up with and what we are convinced is “normal”.

Feminists need our sexual power and pleasure as much as any other human on the planet. Without it we are little more than robots serving The Machine. A more empowered feminist movement reclaims sexual pleasure for women and guides men into the world of joyful bliss, deep healing and connection that awaits us all when we just shift our perception.

This, my loves, is the work of whores. The world desperately needs the miracle of whores working in every community teaching men and women the ancient, beautiful, deeply connected art of sexual pleasure. This ancient wisdom that flows through our bodies is the greatest hope humanity has of finding its way back to harmony and love.

I’ll finish with my favourite quote ever, it’s from the beautiful John Lennon:

“We live in a world where we have to hide to make love

While violence is practised in broad daylight.”

And I’ll invite you to ponder over what the world could be like if we no longer had to hide to make love.

Becoming Anabelle Part II – Tinkerbell

[This post is best read after Black Pants Man though I have tried to write it as a stand alone post]

The Boyfriend wasn’t at all happy with my new hobby which is all that it was at this point – consciously anyway. We had been together for a year and the early heady days had given way to DIY on his rundown cottage and Sunday hockey matches. I had done marriage. I was through with mundanity, I had reached the point in my life where I realised I only had one life and that it was crucial for me to live my life well – which meant on my terms.

If I wanted to put my sexual needs on ice, play house with a husband and come last after the children I had that back home. I did not need to leave my precious children and drive two hours to get it. I wasn’t joining The Boyfriend in his dilapidated cowshed (aka “good investment”) to be a patient and loyal “wifeling”.

I was driving around the M25 for SEX. Lots of it.

All-weekend-in-bed-stopping-only-to-refuel kind of SEX.

But hockey and doing up his investment hovel were important to him, so it was made plain, by him and his family, that I needed to find myself an all consuming hobby to distract me from my insatiable need for SEX. He was very bemused and not at all happy when my all consuming hobby turned out to be, not a healthy sport or creative craft, but what I really, really wanted – SEX!!

Obviously being the very honest person that I am, I talked it all through with him. We spent hours and hours discussing it, he bought me books to explain to me what I am – polyamorous apparently. The books backfired, as did the Facebook Community he found for me. I dived in headlong like a parched traveller who’s come across an oasis in the desert. Try telling that thirsty traveller that they have to stop drinking – the brain literally does not compute.

Plus, I had met The Lover.

Learning that there was a term for ethical (i.e. honest) non-monogamy – polyamorous and that I was that term – made me feel truly liberated. I’d known in my bones that monogamy was BS and my marriage had proved it – two lovely, funny, sexy, highly sexed people killing each other with boredom. Humans are genetically almost identical to bonobo chimpanzees (1.3% genetic difference) and bonobos are all having sex the whole time.

I had just learned that I was a hairless bonobo and The Lover loved it!

The Lover and I had met in the 24 hour period during which my skeletal profile was up on an NSA site. Simply stating my situation, with no pictures uploaded, it simply said, “I’m married, have a boyfriend but need more sex. Can you help me out?” The Lover messaged me only hours before The Boyfriend succeeded in talking me into leaving the site. And his message was sexy-as-fuck.

First off his profile picture was everything a woman wants to get her juices running – an arty black and white photograph of a woman’s back with a pair of male hands gliding down her spine – as if playing a double bass (surely the sexiest of all musical instruments?) His message was as delightfully charming; he said it would be an absolute pleasure to help me out of my predicament and he even used apostrophes correctly!

We soon moved our conversation off the site and were sending each other photos. The tease was delicious. We had two of the sexiest weeks of my entire life before diaries permitted a meet and when we finally did spend a day together there was no way that one meet was going to be enough. He was FABULOUS.

A seriously stunning cock, the kind that takes you aback when you first see it in the flesh, but more importantly he really knew how to use it. When he pulled out of my cunt to feel what it was like inside my arse he did so with so much grace and care that I felt I had never been so deeply loved and held in my entire life. When we parted on that first, blissful, day and I rushed off to do school pick up, I knew that I was going to need a lot of sex with him to live my life to the fullest.

At this point The Boyfriend didn’t break up with me, he just wanted me to stop, to go back to being “normal”, back to being a safe, monogamous, sexy woman on his terms. Nothing stopped him breaking up with me, I didn’t lie to him, he knew everything, but he wanted the incredible sex. I’ll admit I was obsessed, I probably still am, and many people will declare that to be unhealthy, but all I can say, with my dandelion smile on my face, is that I am really, really happy – and healthy.

Years later, after the painful breakup and very established in my role as Anabelle, I wonder why I tried so hard to convert such a narrow minded and conventional man to my way of thinking. It was very obvious to anyone who knew me quite intimately back then – The Lover, my confidant Jenny, one or two other girlfriends, that The Boyfriend was never going to embrace the life that I so deeply desired. Why did I cling on to him? Why did I try to win him over?

I was in love. I loved him truly, madly and deeply. He was the man I wanted to grow old with. Just not yet! I wanted to grow old with a life well lived behind me. I wanted to create memories that would warm me in my final days. Most of all I wanted to die, Lilith style, with a wicked grin on my face.

“No regrets” became my motto and my decision function machine. When faced with difficult life choices I started to ask myself the question, “On your death bed, which choice will you regret not making?” – the answer showed me the path that I must take, however unconventional, uncomfortable or inconvenient it may be. It is always the bolder, braver, less conventional path that gifts you the most opportunities for growth and expansion. As Vincent Van Gogh said,

“Normality is a paved road: it’s comfortable to walk, but no flowers grow on it.”

I love flowers. Which is no doubt why one day I had the bright idea that The Boyfriend and I would have a threesome with a prostitute in an anonymous London hotel.

Surely this would win him over to my side?

What man does not dream of a threesome with two women?

What man would not find a girlfriend who gifts him such incredible experiences, completely intoxicating and hold onto her as a rare and precious gift?

I had absolutely no idea how one finds a prostitute and I felt morally conflicted. A bit like buying teak garden furniture – you want to make the purchase, but how do you know that it’s ethical? Women don’t come with a Fair Trade stamp like my coffee does.

I found an agency online, baulked at the hourly rate, and perused the photographs. One or two appealed to me (their bodies made my nipples twitch and my cunt throb a bit) so I pinged their photos to The Boyfriend to ask his opinion. Happily he selected my favourite and I booked both the hotel and the lady.

The whole thing cost me way more than a week’s earnings, but I was living life on my terms, this was a once in a lifetime experience, I was about to convert the man that I loved into the joys of ethical non-monogamy and we were going to make precious memories together. I was taking a step off the paved, expected, path of normality to spend time with my beloved enjoying the flowers.

We were both as nervous as hell when the day arrived. We met her in the hotel bar and fell easily into small talk. Then, bless her, professional that she was, she asked, “Do you only want to talk or would you like a bit more fun?”

“Of course” we both replied in unison and led her up to our room. There she removed her dress, tied her long hair in a ponytail, removed a tube of lube from her bag and said, “I think we start with her, OK?” I wasn’t going to argue.

It was the first time I had ever kissed a girl, and I really liked it. She was exquisite, small boned, slim, delicate with incredibly soft skin. Kissing a woman after years of stubble was quite a sensation – I was hooked.

She was really fun with me, she guided me down The Boyfriend’s body to share his cock between our kisses. I wasn’t as mad about blow jobs back then, I did them more as a gift for the man rather than for my pleasure, but with her tongue and her lips so close to mine, teasing his shaft and glans between us, I enjoyed sucking cock as never before.

And his cock had never been as magnificent before.

Afterwards we named her Tinkerbell, she was fairy like in her appearance and playfully fairy like through the whole session. After sharing cock with me she invited me to lie on my back and sliding down my front to pleasure my cunt with her lips and tongue, she directed The Boyfriend to get a condom. That is how I ended up lying there watching The Boyfriend fucking Tinkerbell as she tongue fucked me.

And yes it was as amazing as it sounds. Those of you who watch porn are probably a bit blase about sex as I describe above, but for me, at the time, it was out-fucking-standing. I was delirious with delight as we took a short break half way through our two hour session.

It was incredibly relaxed. That was my overriding impression of sex with a professional. She was so relaxed about her body, the sex, us, our bodies. Knowledgeable, funny, sweet and above all, relaxed.

The Boyfriend asked what all men of his type ask when they meet someone new, “So do you enjoy your work?” I was embarrassed, I felt awkward. What if she had to lie? W”hat if we learned that we had just tasted non-ethical coffee?

Tinkerbell just beamed, “I love it.”

Then she expanded a bit, “I earn really good money, I am saving up to open my own bar with my boyfriend. It’s good, you know.” Then, because this is England and we were making mid-sex small talk, she turned to me and asked, “What do you do?”

“I’m a teacher, I teach infants – aged 4 to 7 years.”

“Oh, how gorgeous! You must love it!” she exclaimed.

“Well, I do, but the money is terrible – it’s taken me a week’s wages to pay your two hour bill tonight!” She just beamed and nodded knowingly, she already knew this. Teaching, an apparently vital, “respectable” profession is just not as respected – in hard cash – anything like her “disreputable” profession.

She then turned to The Boyfriend and asked, “And you?”

He replied with as much pomposity as I thought it was possible to muster, a pomposity that was completely incongruent with his naked body and softening cock, “I” he announced, “Am an accountant.”

Her face fell and she just said, “Oh, poor you.”

It still makes me laugh out loud. I didn’t at the time, I stifled my giggles and marvelled at how she had readjusted her crown in the face of his middle class pomposity. I loved her so much for it. And envied her deeply.

Here was a young woman doing something she clearly enjoyed, earning far more than the two of us combined, and completely owning the space. Young, beautiful, sassy, confident, kind, sexy – pretty dazzling to a middle aged woman set on reclaiming her life to live it on her terms.

Tinkerbell taught me the joy of kissing a woman. I learned the delights of a soft female body and soft female moans, of little teeth and small fingers pleasuring your flesh. She was the first woman I tasted, the first woman to taste me and I found both immensely liberating.

She tasted sweet and maybe a bit spicy, definitely not fishy or pungent at all. Why are we told by countless bad taste jokes that women have “fishy fannies” when actually our cunts bear no resemblance to fish at all? I mourned the wasted years in which I’d denied myself the pleasure of receiving oral sex because I was sure I smelt ghastly and decided that I would be more like Tinkerbell. I would open my legs and gratefully receive any, and ALL, pleasure any giver wanted to lavish on my grateful cunt.

She also showed me a completely different face to prostitution to the one we are constantly peddled.

Contrary to the mainstream narrative that there is no such thing as a happy and empowered prostitute, the first prostitute I had ever met was both.

I will take your word for it, if you have personal experience otherwise, and I know there is a side to the sex industry that is dark and exploitative, but ALL slavery is exploitative, not just sex slavery.

Selling sex does not necessarily make you unhappy and it can make you very, very happy and empowered. That is what Tinkerbell taught me.

She was another nudge from the universe towards the creation of Anabelle. I think of her often and wonder what she would make of the shy, rather awkward woman she met over a decade ago. I hope she got to open her bar and that Covid didn’t destroy her dreams along with so many others’.

There isn’t a school or a college you can go to to learn the art of being a whore. It is not something you can get certified into. Like much in life, the empowered route does require a certain amount of privilege. Tinkerbell was part of my route. If you had told me at the time that I was doing research for my future business, I would have laughed at you, but meeting her shifted my perceptions entirely and I could feel, in my body, that I wanted to be like her.

I wanted the freedom, the sassiness, the sexual confidence. I wanted to make other people’s dreams come true. Above all I wanted my life to be devoted to pleasure and orgasm like hers was. She was younger and so much prettier than me, but I had a growing sense that I wanted to walk her path.

Recommended Further Reading (which happen to be the books The Boyfriend bought me):

“Sex at Dawn: The Prehistoric Origins of Modern Sexuality” by Christopher Ryan and Cacilda Jetha

“More than Two” by Franklin Veaux and Eve Rickert

Sexual Healing with Kali, The Destroyer of Ego & Lilith, The Witch Who Left Adam

“Sex work can’t be healing” said an angry woman on X. She expanded by telling me that my “rhetoric was wrong” and that it was ridiculous to claim that sex work can be a healing modality. On X I didn’t have space to explain that sex by its very nature is deeply healing and thus sex work, when done in the right way, can be amongst the most healing therapies in the world.

Obviously there are no scientific randomised control trials on sexual healing because there is no money for big pharma in discovering that whores are naturally incredibly powerful healers. So what can whores heal? At the moment I don’t know the full potential of sexual healing. But I feel it every week.

Let’s start there – with what I feel.

I feel bodies relax and reset. I feel men (and women) enjoying their physical, emotional and even spiritual selves. I feel them connect to something within, sometimes, many times, for the first time ever. We live in a world where many (if not most) men (and women) have felt shame for, and of, their sexuality. Leading us to shut down something that is ours by right – our innate sexual energy.

Sexual energy is our life force energy. Think about it, sexual energy creates life! It can be channeled and directed by us to create the lives that we desire. Being disconnected from our own life force energy disempowers us, leading us to hand over our sovereignty to those with more power than us.

I contend that loss of sovereignty is one of the main causes of dis-ease within our physical, mental, emotional and spiritual bodies. Thus, experiencing one’s sexual energy in an honouring, shame free environment is deeply, deeply healing.

I’d like to introduce two powerful and inspirational females to assist me in explaining the healing power of sex work.

The first is Kali, Hindu mother goddess, also goddess of death and rebirth, who is most often depicted as a fearsome female (the stuff of patriarchal male nightmares) often seated in a squatting position with her tongue sticking out wearing a necklace of skulls.

Kali is not the beautiful, sexually available pagan goddess imagined by Western artists. Kali is fearsome female power personified. And she is scary to look at! Her sticking out tongue represents the power of the female voice, which as most men will confirm, can crush an ego, inflated or otherwise, in seconds. Her necklace of skulls represents those crushed egos.

My second dame is Lilith, Adam’s first wife and dissatisfied lover who left him to allegedly spend eternity fucking the devil and eating babies for breakfast.

Lilith refused to fluff Adam’s rubbish love making. As legend has it he insisted on having sex “patriarchal style” man-on-top but this didn’t give her the genital stimulation that she needed to experience pleasure and orgasm, she tried to persuade him to vary the position, but Adam, being God’s chosen one, knew that the “correct way” of doing things was for him to be on top during their sex and if Lilith didn’t orgasm, well that wasn’t too important was it?

His sassy, sexy, bold, beautiful lover wanted to be creative and playful in the bedroom, but his fragile male ego said, NO. So she left him. And apparently has since spent eternity with the devil – who apparently is a much better lover – quelle surprise!!

Maybe Adam needed to meet Kali, because Kali’s necklace of skulls is to remind humans of the impermanence of ego. We are all trapped into believing our ego selves over our real selves, but it’s all an illusion.

Our ego selves are a painstaking construction of “self”. I like Pink Floyd’s metaphor of a wall – brick by brick your ego is constructed to separate you from every other human (or non human) being on the planet (and beyond) and also to keep you separated from your own true self – your inner essence, your soul, your divine spark.

In our highly material (and materialistic) age our egos are fed, watered and maintained by possessions, qualifications, labels, friendships, relationships, jobs, clubs, social media, our communities and so on. We are born free of ego (that’s why it is so easy to look into a newborn’s eyes and see infinite possibilities awaiting them) but from within minutes of our birth the world conspires (against us) to construct our egos.

Some babies suffer the barbarity of circumcision in their early hours – an unthinkable practice still common in much of the world. Its only purpose is as a crucial brick in the wall. How better to separate you from your inner spark than to prevent you from feeling that spark? But all babies are fed, clothed, named and held (or not) according to societal norms.

In the west, for example, no crying baby is ever put to a male nipple for comfort – the idea to most is appalling – yet throughout human history and in much of the world today this is a completely normal and beautiful way to calm, nourish, nurture and bond with an infant. Gabor Maté will tell you that the lack of physical body to body contact in western baby rearing practices underpins much chronic disease and neurological conditions later in life.

Maté points to the Inuit who carry a baby continuously for the first two years of life, importantly this role is shared by all members of the community, male and female, not left to an exhausted mother coping, isolated and alone, on her own.

But coldness and isolation are an intrinsic, I would argue essential, aspect of patriarchal control. And one of the many, many ways society creates your ego without you noticing.

Therapists and life coaches will tell you that one of the most common beliefs people carry about themselves which prevents them from living a heart connected life is, “I am not worthy.” This is an ego belief. The constructed self has learned to believe that they are unworthy of all that they yearn for – love, connection, belonging, security, safety.

Hasn’t patriarchy done a number on us all?!

Can you see how much easier it is to control people who believe they are not worthy of a life beyond the treadmill?

This is what makes Kali furious and what Lilith would not settle for.

My client today has an awful ego, and not in the way that you think when you read, “awful ego.” He is not “egotistical” – he doesn’t drive a flashy car and swagger around in look-at-me clothes.

On the contrary, his ego has entrapped him in a life of miserable grey. He is possibly the greyest man I have ever met. Mr Cellophane: dull, easy to ignore and utterly miserable. He will be tormented on his death bed when he reflects on his completely wasted life.

Well maybe not entirely. Somehow he found me and he books regular Ra (tie and tease) sessions which are perfect for him. Ra is my Kali-esque session. It’s the session to strip you of ego and allow, if only for a moment, your true self to shine. To the untrained eye it looks harsh, like Kali, but the blindfold, cuffs, crops, floggers and pin wheels are there not to literally strip away flesh, but to invite you into surrender and sensation.

Tantric sex is very much about sensation – about bringing your conscious awareness to sensation inside the body, not to label it as an emotional feeling, e.g. happy, sad, nervous, turned on, but as pure sensation, e.g. fizzy, warm, bubbly, throbbing, sharp, soft, gentle.

Sensation leads us to the experience of energy in our bodies and energy leads us out of the material (and materialistic) realm into the quantum realm and back towards our original essence or soul. This is the journey you take with Ra.

My clients are blindfolded on arrival, they don’t get to see me in my lingerie let alone naked until after they have come. For years I thought the blindfold just removed sight – the most over-used of our senses – so allowing space for the other senses: hearing, taste, smell and touch to become heightened. But a female client of mine introduced me to a whole new way of seeing the blindfold – as an interruption to ego.

Remember, your ego self is who society tells you that you are. Years of social programming says that you are THIS person with THIS set of beliefs and THESE characteristics. Your ego self separates you from your true self and never is this truer than in sex.

I introduced the blindfold to this female client during a yoni massage that I was coaching her lover to give her. To receive the massage she needed to lie spread eagle with her legs wrapped around her lover in full view of me – a virtual stranger. Even a whore might have qualms about this! So I suggested she wear a blindfold for her comfort. She loved it and thought about it for days afterwards. Eventually she messaged me to say, “I think it’s like holding your hands over your eyes as a child – if you can’t see them, they can’t see you, so you don’t have to feel the shame.”

Through the childish trick of wearing a blindfold my female client was freed from “being seen.” In the darkness she could let go of who she is meant to be (her ego self) and connect with her true, inner self – and the inner self loved the sensations she was receiving through her lover’s yoni massage.

Do you begin to understand the allure of gimp masks now?!

I’ve yet to use a gimp mask on any of my clients but in a Ra massage they are always blindfolded for the full duration of the session. They’re also tied – both wrists and both ankles – spread eagle on the bed, first lying on their fronts and then on their backs. It’s not about pain, it’s about sensation, and, I know how pleasurable pain can be, so I don’t hold back! I want to make their skin tingle so that when I’ve stopped flogging and spanking them and pour oil over their skin they feel the oil, followed by my hands, with heightened sensitivity.

I want to make their ears listen out for every movement I make, I want to activate that nervous anticipation that quickens the pulse and shortens the breath. It’s such a rapid activation of the body. The game they are invited to play with themselves is to receive it all. To take whatever I give them. To surrender to sensation – whatever it is. To submit to pleasure, all of it.

It’s dark and it’s wicked and it strips layers of ego from them. Freed from their pathetic, miserable, dull little egos these giant men emerge. Men who feel so big, so bold, so WORTHY.

Today’s client thanked me at the end, again, for being his “safe place.” He had been tied up, and hit really hard – I’d even slapped him on the arse cheek whilst my finger was deep inside him. I had really “punished” him today. Yet he feels safer with me than anywhere else. He feels able to be “himself.” He feels seen and understood and – my words – freed from his depressed and depressing ego existence.

Today he told me that our sessions had given him the confidence to change jobs. To move from a job that is slightly better paid into a position that is more in alignment with him and thus carries much less stress. He is beginning to make choices that are good for his soul rather than what’s expected of him by those who seek to maintain his ego.

Good whores don’t fluff male egos. Like Lilith we dare to lead our men into more mutually pleasurable, soul nourishing experiences. Like Kali we know that living a life on your terms, one that will free you of death bed regrets, means stripping yourself free of the limitations of ego as much as you possibly can.

We can’t re-grow foreskins, but we can blindfold you and flog your backside until it’s red raw and your body tingles in ways you’ve never previously experienced so that when you return to a shitty job you feel worthy enough to say, “Fuck this!”

Kali is smiling down at my client today – he is taking bold steps towards reclaiming what is left of his life to live it on his terms.

That is the power of sex.

“Good” sex takes you beneath ego so that you reconnect with your true self.

Separation from our true selves is, I believe, one of the greatest causes of dis-ease on the planet. Reconnected to your true self you are able to give yourself the love, the care, the acceptance that you need to live a healthy and nourished life, and you are guided to make life choices that are actually good for you.

The patriarchal model of sex pulls men and women away from “Good” sex. This infuriated Lilith who fled the scene.

Whores, a bit kinder than Lilith, devote themselves to showing you the way back.

So, I repeat the claim that I rather foolishly made to an angry woman on X, sex is the most potent healing power on the planet and thus whores, our sexual shamen, are the planet’s greatest healers.

Kali picture credit Raja Ravi Varma on Wikipedia

Lilith picture credit: Charles Chen on Unsplash

The One in Which I Wear the Blindfold

“Hi….I’ve just been reading your blog posts!

They turn me on massively but I’m concerned I don’t achieve what you like…

Hopefully that’s not the case as turning you on is my main aim….

D”

I read this message with mixed feelings. I was obviously delighted that my posts are doing their job – I write them to be read and enjoyed so it’s gratifying to hear that someone other than me reads them! But I was concerned that my words feed someone’s sense of inadequacy – that is the very last thing I would ever want to do.

My purpose in life is to reconnect others to their extraordinary. Yes, I want to make people feel amazing when they are with me, but more importantly, I want them to drive away feeling alive in ways they haven’t felt for years, decades even. Above all, I want my clients to reconnect with the power and nourishment of their innate life force energy – their sexual energy – and to re-enter the real world feeling healed, whole and magnificent.

D messaged me about 24 hours before his Kama appointment. His excitement at seeing me again was now mixed with a fear that he was not good enough or deserving enough of my time and my pleasure. I needed to reassure him, partly because I didn’t want him cancelling on me, but also because selfishly I wanted to enjoy an abandoned session with him and that would not happen if he was stuck in his head worrying if he was “good enough” for me.

“Don’t be crazy!!

I enjoy sex full stop.

I enjoy the connection full stop.

None of it is performance.

When you read my words you get turned on, right? That’s your body, your subconscious mind recognising truth.

Your conscious mind then kicks in with, “You’re not good enough for her.” That’s deep programming, but NOT truth.

Trust your body.

Trust your turn on.

xxA”

It worked. His reply came an hour later, “Thank you and I’m really looking forward to tomorrow!”

Over the last few sessions we have played with me wearing a blindfold for a part of the session. This morning as I prepared myself and my room I decided I was going to wear the blindfold for the whole session if I possibly could. I don’t know why I decided this, it was just a strong feeling and, as you have just read, I trust the feeling!

D arrived, we small talked our way upstairs and as soon as the bedroom door was closed our mouths found each other. I could feel his body trembling under his clothes. He wasn’t wearing much, the weather’s still stinking hot, so it didn’t take me long to remove them – oh how I love flip flops! It all felt completely delicious but I was annoyed with myself – the blindfold was out of reach on the bed and I couldn’t work out a way of reaching it without breaking the spell.

Instead I slowly untied my wrap dress, enjoying the sensuousness of the satin ties as they snaked their way across my skin, his hands found my breasts as I carefully threw my dress across the chaise longue at the end of my bed. I pushed my pelvis against his, his erection felt strong against my groin, parting my legs I was able to take him between my thighs and gently squeeze against his hardness.

His excited hands were taking their time in undoing my bra, but I left him to it; there was no rush and I was enjoying the feeling of anticipation of feeling his fingers on my nipples. Bra duly dispatched, my nipples got what they were yearning for, he squeezed them hard and I felt the beginnings of my amrita flowing. We were standing over his shorts and underpants – he needed them dry to go home in! So I chose that moment to stand back from him and turn around to pick up the blindfold.

I chose to make the act of putting on the blindfold both a tease and a ceremony. I wanted my face to convey in the seconds before I put it on, “I am in your beautiful hands now, I trust you completely, I surrender to you.” I caught his eyes, held his gaze, raised the blindfold and covering my eyes, tied it tight around the back of my own head. I was in almost complete darkness. With my eyes wide open I looked at the blackness of the satin and felt the complete thrill of handing the session over to him.

I felt his body against mine. His mouth on mine. His fingers tweaking my nipples and stroking my cunt and the slight pressure of his body moving mine backwards to the bed. As I felt the mattress behind my legs I bent my knees and allowed his kisses to lie me down. I badly wanted to feel his cock in my mouth but I could tell from the way his body was moving that he was going to feast on me first. Lifting my pelvis slightly, spreading my legs apart, heels up in the bed I felt the delicious sensation of tongue, lips and stubble against my vulva and clitoris. I lay there in the darkness as he danced my body to heaven.

The bed was soaked, I was soaked, he was soaked, he moved his body up mine to kiss me full on the mouth again. Deep kisses activate my throat, as my mouth opens wider and wider with the kisses my throat remembers the sensation of swallowing cock and competes with my cunt for attention. 69 is obviously the best position to satisfy both demanding body parts with only one man, but I was blindfolded, still wearing killer heels, which though sexy, would un-man my client with one careless move, I needed to act with great care!

I chose to slide down his chest moving my dangerous shoes further and further away from the beautiful cock that I wanted deep down my throat. It took a while to find him in my blindfolded state, but then, bliss, his glistening glans and strong shaft were in my hands being guided towards my mouth. I parted my lips, I licked his glans, I toyed with his cock for as long as my self control held and then I slowly took him, as I had longed to, deeper and deeper into my throat.

He responded by pushing his pelvis into me, pushing his cock in that little bit further, my throat, as voracious as she is, wasn’t yet ready to take all of him, clearly my cunt first needed to open more. I never ask any body part to take more than she is ready to. The session was young, I knew she would open far more with a bit of time and a lot more pleasure. I could feel that he was loving the sensations his cock was receiving, but he wanted to feel closer to my pleasure. He asked me to turn my body around so that he could taste my cunt as I pleasured myself on his cock. In the darkness I carefully obliged. Placing my heels behind his head, taking great care not to poke an eye out.

As my head moved up and down his cock and his tongue pleasured the lips of my vulva I did marvel that I was still blindfolded. I think I have always seen a blindfold as part of a fairly static, passive experience – one in which you didn’t move around much – yet here I was moving around his body with a bit of thought but also real ease whilst blindfolded! I was managing both Louboutins and a blindfold and I felt very clever! Plus it was incredibly erotic.

As I say so often to my clients, when you remove sight your other senses are strengthened – the music was vibrating through my body, the taste of him and the smell of our sex heightened the experience further, my body was pulsating with life. He could feel it – his fingers and tongue pleasuring me to gush over him again and again and again.

I took his cock deeper and deeper as my cunt responded to his attention. His balls were right up against my nose, his glans pushing against the back of my throat, his firm shaft completely filling my throat. The orgasm I experience in my throat is very different to the orgasms I experience from nipple, clitoral, g-spot or cervical stimulation, it’s possibly the most powerful orgasm I currently experience. Afterwards I always need a few moments to gather myself again. I lifted myself off him, swung my legs around and lay on his chest, my mouth seeking his, wanting to be held as my body experienced wave after wave of pleasure.

And I was still in the dark.

His cock was hard under my stomach as I lay trembling on top of him, kissing him deeply. I wanted to feel him inside me. I really yearned to adjust my body to just allow him to slide inside. But I am a professional, so instead, I spent a few moments thinking through how to reach for and slide on a condom whilst blindfolded, could I do it? I reached out my right arm. Nothing. I waved it around a bit. Still nothing. I hoped my kisses were distracting him, otherwise he would think I had completely lost the plot! I realised I was lower on the bed than I had imagined, the bedside table with my bowl of condoms must be higher up, I reached out to the right and up and there it was. I carefully extracted a condom and whilst sliding over this body I tore open the packet, removed the condom and felt for his cock. I felt completely triumphant as I slid him into me and my cunt expressed her appreciation for all my efforts very quickly by squeezing hard around him and ejaculating again!

It was a very exciting fuck. I was still wearing the heels, which were tucked behind me, poking against the cheeks of my arse, so as I moved up and down his cock they stroked my buttocks. I couldn’t see him, but I was well aware that he could see me and would be freely enjoying the sight of me riding his cock as I came over and over. I arched my back which he took as an opportunity to finger my clit. His other hand found a nipple and he tweaked hard. The pure joy of a blended orgasm! I felt so much everywhere, “Incredible” doesn’t do it justice.

I fucked him until I was utterly exhausted. Not only from the physical exertion of moving my body up and down his, but also from so much orgasm. This is why I charge more for a Kama session – non-stop orgasm is really tiring! I collapsed on the bed next to him, one hand sliding off the condom as I did so – I may be blindfolded, but I am still the professional in the room! My body was humming all over, my throat, cunt, clit, nipples were all on fire and vibrantly alive. I was lying next to the sexiest man on earth. We both felt it.

He was a complete gentleman and gave me at least 2 minutes to lie and appreciate all the yummyness flowing around my body before asking me to finish him off with a “hand job”. I smiled and said that I would be honoured to give him a “lingam massage.” As I reached for the oil, repeating my earlier up and to the right arm stretch, I noted I was still wearing the blindfold and asked him, “What does it do for you?”

“I like the sense that you don’t know what I am going to do next, I like adding in that element of surprise” he replied

“Could it also be, in part, that you feel free of scrutiny? That you don’t feel watched, assessed and appraised by me?” I wondered.

“Possibly, I hadn’t thought of that, but yes, that is also quite possible.”

“I think it frees me from the need to watch your face. I hadn’t realised that I do that, but not being able to do it has made me realise how much I do check in with my client’s faces for feedback and assurance. Being blindfolded frees me of that. I feel somehow freer.”

I poured oil over his cock and my hands started to do their work. I don’t need to see what I am doing when I give a lingam massage, it’s all about touch and responding to the lingam in my hands. I had chosen not to sit between his legs, slightly underneath him, as he could barely reach me in that position and I had just heard him saying how much he enjoyed surprising me. I had to leave him with that option, so I sat astride his left leg. He moaned as my hands pleasured his lingam, I couldn’t see the clock, but I could tell from the play list that we had about half an hour left together, I wasn’t keen to make him come too soon, so I took it easy, only applying intense strokes for short, manageable periods of time.

After a while of lying back and receiving from his blindfolded courtesan, he said, “I can’t resist, I need your cunt!” We shifted positions so that one of his hands could be inside me and we pleasured each other in this way for a while. It was delicious. My body was singing with pleasure, his cock was hard in my hands, my cunt was wet and soft in his. But my mouth was empty, she wanted to be involved again. So I asked him to kneel over me.

He did so. With his cock deep down my throat he played with my clit and lips so that I squirted copious amounts over and over, he rubbed my amrita over my body and returned to milk more. His now oily balls were massaging my chin as his cock moved around in my mouth and throat. Often the sensation was too much so I released his cock and took his balls in my mouth instead, rolling them around as my body convulsed in pleasure. Then his hands were on his cock and I heard his voice say “I am going to come all over your tits…”

“Boobs” I said quietly to myself as I slid my hand over my amrita soaked body to play with my cunt. A few moments later I was splashing him with more juices as I felt the warmth of his ejaculate flowing over my breasts. He sat back. The music continued. The fan in the room continued. And my body just fizzed all over.

“So which initial can I use for you in my latest blog post?” I laughed.

“D. D is fine” came a voice from the darkness.

He then asked if he could have a quick shower, I didn’t refuse him, but I did ask if he could find his own way to the bathroom so that I could enjoy the tingle “Just a little bit longer.” In over 10 years this whore has never asked a client to find his own way to the bathroom for a shower at the end of the session!

When he returned I was still lying in the position in which he had left me. I heard him come in and, rolling over onto my belly, removed the blindfold. He was dressed! I don’t know how long I had been lying there in the dark just absorbing all of the sensations, but I knew I didn’t want it to stop. I had to get up. I had to receive my payment and show him out. I had to find my manners. But all I really wanted to do was lie and feel the tingling, the vibrations, the energy moving through my body. I wanted this dance and I am sure that it would have lasted for hours if I had given my body the time and the space to experience it all.

So, D, yes, you do give me what I want, you do “achieve” what I like! You are a masterful lover. Today you made my body tingle all over and you gifted me an incredible and unique experience. I grew as a lover today. I learned something about myself which I will apply more in my work and my life. I thank you for that. And, maybe best of all, hours later my body is still humming.

Please, going forwards, trust the feelings you have in your body. They will guide you towards the experiences that will help you grow, evolve and reconnect with your beautiful, unique essence. The voices in your head are there to keep you small and disconnected. They want to keep you safe, which is a valid objective, but safety, especially when based on outdated information, can increasingly resemble a prison.

Your body wants you to feel alive. It wants to guide you back to connection, back to your unique essence, back to your sexy soul.

The feelings you feel in your body, if you listen to them, will guide you back to TRUTH.

xxA

The “Number One Rule” of Sex Work & Why I Ignore it

The text will say something like, “Can I ask you a question?”

To which I reply, “Of course :)”

“I hope I won’t offend you…”

“I am fairly unshockable, don’t worry!”

“Do you allow kissing?”

Every time I am asked this I spit out a mouthful of tea!

Given that my services involve full sex this is such a sweet, almost naive, question to be asked.

My answer, always, is that I cannot imagine doing this work without lots and lots of kissing!

I too have seen “Pretty Woman” plenty of times – I love, love, love both Julia Roberts and Richard Gere (he was my first big crush). So I also know that the “Number one rule of sex work is – don’t kiss your clients.” From memory, the premise of the film is that if you kiss your clients an emotional bond will be formed and that will become messy. Far better to stick to the commercial exchange of penetrative sex for money keeping any chance of connection away from the exchange.

In my 10 years of actually working with clients I could probably count on one hand the number of individuals who came for a connection-free experience. No-one wants sex without connection. Not me and certainly not my clients.

Human beings (as distinct from human doings) are hard-wired for connection. We crave deep physical, emotional and spiritual connection – it’s how we remember we are human and reconnect to our own humanity.

In a world that is rushing to turn us into ever more efficient robots, it is in the moments of deep connection with another human that we are nourished and are able to re-connect with our own soul, which is surely THE THING that distinguishes us from the robots they wish to turn us into?

In my opinion kissing is one of the foundations of sex. It’s highly erotic, highly arousing and best of all anyone can do it! There is no performance pressure for anyone around kissing, just lips connecting as hands gently stroke and explore. I could kiss for hours. And it’s really good for you too: the stimulation of the mouth’s nerves releases endorphins which reduces stress and leads you into a state of euphoria. I know I would rather kiss than meditate my way to low blood pressure!

Controversially (if you are of the “Pretty Woman” school of thought) kissing triggers the release of oxytocin, the bonding and love hormone, thus building emotional and physical bonding between the kissers and signalling to the body that this person is safe to have sex with. Removing kissing from sex workers would thus increase their body’s unease with the sex that they’re selling, turning a potentially beautiful experience into a more brutal and exploitative exchange. Western culture has a problematical relationship with sex workers – this is just one of the many ways it rears its ugly head.

I haven’t met a single client EVER who wants to exploit me or use me. I’m not saying that these kind of clients don’t exist, I just haven’t attracted them into my orbit. I meet people who are open and honest about craving connection – with me, with a power within themselves or sometimes with an energy/power beyond themselves – whatever type of connection is sought, the one constant is that they crave connection and kissing is the path to that connection.

When oxytocin flows through your body, you are not only connecting to the person you are with, you are also able to connect with yourself – with energy, emotions, sensations, feelings that you spend most of every day life unaware of. It is immensely powerful to slow down and spend time in a space where it is safe to connect again.

The Penis – a Tool of Love or a Weapon of War?

Becoming Anabelle Part II – Tinkerbell

Sexual Healing with Kali, The Destroyer of Ego & Lilith, The Witch Who Left Adam

The One in Which I Wear the Blindfold

The “Number One Rule” of Sex Work & Why I Ignore it

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