One Kinksters view of kinky sexual beauty.

Leila Raven Posted in General
5

Skinny is beautiful, fat is gorgeous… big bodies have *more* surfaces to play with, areas to attach clothes pegs, etc.

Tight bodies are great to smack. Saggy bodies are great to smack, they bounce! Saggy breasts are great to bind.

Muscles under skin feel, tight, erotic and hot. Fat under skin feels soft, sensual and lush.

Corsets on skinny bodies look mindbogglingly bound teeny tiny beyond belief, fragile, and exotic. Corsets on big bodies pop out those curves to even more breath taking proportions.

Long hair is a toy, to whip, to pull, to tie, to control. Shaved heads expose sensitive and erotic skin to more sensation.

Youth is often vibrant, fresh, brings new perspectives, sees the scene through new eyes. Is often full of first time experiences and the joy of discovery. Age is often paired with experience, wisdom and knowledge.

A young and/or new bottom brings the top the joy of sharing new experiences and sensations. An older experienced bottom brings depth to the play, knowing, understanding.

Little breasts can sometimes be completely contained in a suction cup, big breasts can be elaborately bound.

Penises come in all shapes and sizes… Long ones can bump a cervix intensely. Short ones at the right angle may hit the g-spot or prostate of a partner at every stroke.

The proportions of someones facial features, the size or symetry of eyes or lips, is not as important as what they express with them. A beauty of classic features, picture perfect face, is entrancing to behold. Someone ‘plain’ by tradional standards face exploding to express, orgasm, submission, adoration, lust, agony… makes me wet.

Are you beautiful?

Yes, beyond a doubt. you are.

Finding the current, avoiding the rapids.

Leila Raven Posted in General
4

Clumsy metaphors, not an attempt at being poetic. I use them because they’re meaningful for me. Not because I think I can make it pretty… all I have are clumsy metaphors.

I spent a number of years drowning. Depression. Diving, trying to surrender completely to the embrace of deep still water. Most of me trying to die, a small part, that involuntary drive for survival pushing me to the surface, forcing me to breath. Wolfe there catching me, keeping me afloat. Broken brain chemsitry.. chemical cancer of mood.

Then, I stabalized, floated, became a swimmer again in the stream. Lots of hospitals and doctors and trials on medications, till we found a chemical cocktail that would partially repair my brain chemistry’s own betrayals and shortcomings. Involuntary genetic bio-chemical mindfuck… my depression.

I remember the words of my Father when I was a child, when life would get hard, “sink or swim” “sink or swim”. I tried swimming and grew tired, I tried sinking, and found I couldn’t.

Now I’m trying again, to go with the flow, to find the current… which isn’t really trying at all. Or is it… how much do you surrender? What about when it gets too much, the stream of life… how do you navigate? How to avoid the sharp rocks beneath the rapids…

BDSM is my sacred safe happy good healthy part of my life. Kink is healthy for me. My psychiatrist always took my alt lifestyle activities as a measure for how well I was doing depression wise. If I was ‘playing’ it signified I was doing well.

Recovering from severe depression, and moving into my new home, with finally having dungeon space, sacred space, healthy space. Happy space, has felt so good and so healthy to me.

I’ve been trying hard to keep those waters clear, to not allow conflicts and drama to take hold in unhealthy ways. Not in the temple where I keep the whips. Not in the garden with the chains… unless it’s to heal. Bring the hurt in, controlled, safe, fly with it. I want that to be my strong place, my healthy place, my dungeon. A retreat, Raven’s Retreat.

The other day I was there, in the dungeon, on the bed, on the laptop, and I crashed. Dark waters flooding, crying, lost, confused, not in the good way. Not safe sane consensual negotiated play and ritual. Worlds came crashing together, bled into one another. Calling for Daddy, Wolfe, coming to rescue me. Shutting down the world, he drew me up and brought me to the bedroom.

Diving, strong lungs, not mine, his, breathing for me, breaking surface, wading water, carrying me limp in spirit to calm dark waters, keeping my head above the waves.

I hid there for a few days.. my bed. The other retreat. The hiding place, dark room, and sleep. Sleep… water turned ice, frozen, locked up, shut down. Everything slowed so much… almost like death.

Now I want to reclaim the joy, the waves, the healthy sacred space. I want to welcome the workshops, the parties, the people. I want to PLAY. I want to top and bottom, I want to complete those circuits with people, where we flick those bio-chemical switches in the brain where it’s -good-. Where the structure creates safety, respect, and sanity. I want to FLY.

This Saturday is my next party… and it’s going to be on the smaller side. It conflicts with another party in the community, and most people will go there. That’s okay. Whatever and whomever comes my way that day, will be enough. It will be Raven’s Retreat, it will be Fly, it will be friends, it will be a drama free zone, it will be healing and whole. I’m going to play, top, bottom, and fill the dungeon with intense love of life, healthy sacred consensual beautiful powerful kink. Let it be light and fun where it wants to be, heavy and profound where it needs to be, and just let it be what it is.

and besides… there is going to be a -lot- of duct tape…

Live in Love
Katt