Tag Archives: animal

Roots

 

005

Wolfman by Boris Vallejo

Human (adj): Having or showing those positive aspects of nature and character regarded as distinguishing humans from other animals.

I don’t need love to be delicate touches from the tips of your fingers.  Barely grazing the skin, careful not to bruise.  I don’t need palms upon my breast to cup delicately and massage tenderly.  I don’t need soft lips to lightly kiss my flesh; pressing down onto my skin and departing swiftly without a trace.  I don’t need love to physically manifest itself as society sees it – soft sheets and similar thrusts between the parted legs of a lover.  Whispers of “I love you” waltz though the temperate air.  I don’t need love to be lax stroking of hair and fingers tracing the outline of my face.  I don’t want a mindful body atop, aside, behind or below mine.  Instead, I want you to be inside of and connected to your nature, your true identity; your primal animal.

I want love to manifest itself physically the way I understand it; you and me, dedicated to one another through a mutual understanding of our animal natures.  You are my alpha, the dominant leader of which I obey and allow limitless access to my body.  I am your beta, the one you own, protect and cherish vehemently.  I feel your love through your ownership.  I feel your love through you taking what is yours, and in doing so, love takes a different approach.

I’ve always been drawn to the way you sniff my hair and skin.  The way you’d breathe me in.  You’ve always noticed the slightest different between smells from one day to the next; a change in perfume, a change in body chemistry.  I feel literal heat inside me as you bury your face aggressively into my neck without a care for how your rough whiskers left behind red irritation.  Your lack of delicateness, to me, is a direct translation of your need for me.  Love looks different between us, King, doesn’t it?  Love is the bite to the back of my neck or shoulders sending a fiery streak through my able body.  You sink your teeth deeper into my flesh as your cock sinks deeper within my cunt.  The pressure from your heavy sac against the delicate skin of my sex makes me feel at the mercy of your masculinity.  Your purposeful thrusts indicate a deep need for penetration.  Each thrust into me is another symbol of your power and control over my body.  The harder the thrust, the more I feel your need.  The more you restrict my body movements with your hands or under the weight of your mass, the more I feel loved.  I’ve given you permission to take, at will, and you do.  You take with your hands as the pads of your fingers leave bruising upon my hips.  You take with your lips as they wrap around my hardened nipples.  You take with your tongue as you lick my flesh, leaving the mark of your saliva upon my skin.  You take as you allow your body to manipulate mine, with little regard for my comfort. You take as you don’t allow my choice.

I feel love more passionately as your words transform into unintelligible guttural moans or throaty growls.  I feel love the more you fill me up with your cum.  You push yourself inside of me, causing what you’ve previously left behind to seep beyond the seam of where you and I meet.  I feel love the more I am used; I feel love the more I am marked by you. I feel your love as I lay upon the puddle of our fluids that spilled out of me and collected itself upon the sheets.  I feel our love as some of my hair breaks way from the pull of being interlaced between your fingers for leverage.  I feel love as you press my upper body and face down into the ground or upon the bitter frigid wall.  I feel love as I’m bent to the lengths my flexibility can handle.  Feel love as I ache from your repeated entries.   Feel love as you release yourself inside of me, feeling each kick of your cock against the sides of my plush inner flesh.  I feel love the more my sent transforms into the smell of you.  I feel your love as you stay inside of me, allowing the weight of your body to be supported by mine.  You don’t remove yourself from me, instead allowing your body to decide when your cock departs from within me.  As the heaviness of your now flaccid cock falls from my pussy, a stream of our love trickles out from within.  I feel love the more you make a mess of me.  I feel your love the more you are selfish with me, possess me.

I feel your love with the loss of your human.


Animal in Us

 Lion-Love-lions-12265175-858-740

Are we really so evolved?  A question I ask myself frequently as it applies directly to my sex life.

We claim to be so evolved.  In fact, some people associate a sense of pride with being highly evolved, snubbing their noses at anything that resembles simplicity or being reduced to our archaic past.  We attach social rules to instinctual drives and call ourselves civilized for not acting upon those drives.  For example, people feared sexual liberation and their own lack of control over their drives; therefore, the people found it necessary to impose religious restrictions upon sexuality.  But, did we really evolve past the need for mate selection on an instinctual level, or did we simply comply with the established social rules for how to conduct ourselves for assimilation?

And here lies my greatest question:  What’s with the stigma placed on the BDSM community?  The community fuels on a particular application of two basic concepts: Dominance and submission.  Dominance and submission is a basic primal concept: The strongest survive, survival of the fittest, and the desire to find the most suitable mate.  Animals have operated on this basic principle as the essential building block for the survival of their species.  Humans used to operate under these basic codes in ancient civilizations.  I believe the people in this sexual community are simply on a quest to restore natural selection, on the most basic of levels, sexual expression.

In our present society, we are consciously weeding out natural selection.  The natural competitive drives within our young boys are being discouraged on the basis of equality.  Plastic surgery can make those less desirable (with regard to natural selection) suddenly find a place amongst the genetically superior for mate selection.  We have conditioned our society to level the playing fields on the basis of evolutionary strength; we place the strong on a diminished level and the weak at an elevated level, essentially meeting somewhere in the middle.  Although I believe this concept is fair, I feel it has done very little to improve the condition of society as a whole.  I, quite honestly, long for a life where social order is restored.  I long to exist in a place where hierarchy social structure consists with the strongest, most “fit” leadership at the top and the weaker individuals operating a place below.  Amongst the lower levels there lies a hierarchy of power, creating many levels of organized dominance and submission.  The essential problem with this is there will be people who always question and oppose authority.  A society like this would, regrettably, remove the choice of submission for individuals.  The lack of choice promotes passive aggressive overthrow.  The choice to be submissive to a Dominant is one that makes the entire situation flow beautifully.  Of course, negative situations can arise with the intoxication of power, but that is not the point of this post.

Submission had nothing to do with race, sex or gender.  Submission was the relinquishment of power in the presence of a more dominant individual.  Unfortunately, submission was not always a choice; rather, people understood that their need for survival accompanied the servitude of a powerful individual.  In the world of BDSM, submission is a choice.  Submission is a choice that is respected by the Dominant, because the Dominant understands that a submissive’s obedience is a gift.  I know I struggled for a long time to find a man who could handle me.  I could not be tamed, could not be reined in, and could not be reasoned with.  A man would have had to be incredibly dominant, strong, stoic, confident, steady, and respectful to be able to even begin to have my submission.  My point is, I would have searched and searched until I found the most “alpha” dominant man I could to give my submission to.  Had I been with a weaker man, and he was challenged by a more aggressive and dominant man for my affection – I would have given my affection to that more dominant man.  That’s about as animal as natural selection gets, and it’s happening every day amongst us all.  It’s happening regardless of whatever your sexual preference is.  Its happening despite what your religion is, whether you admit it to yourself or not, and whether you ever truly put action to your thoughts.  It’s happening because we are all animals at our evolutionary core.  We will always want what we consider to be the “best” mate for us.  We will all assume our roles of dominance and submission within our relationships to varying degrees, and I believe that to be incredibly healthy.

In my opinion, my relationship with my Dom is classic, perhaps archaic, as it aligns us with that natural essence of who we are as people.  Who we are, together, as evolved animals.  We align beautifully in our assigned roles, because it ignites something innate in us both:  My deepest desire to serve, and be at the mercy of, the most worthy mate possible; and his desire to protect, control, claim and reinforce his territory though his primal (animal) power.  I honestly feel that, if practiced from a place of emotional clarity and psychological health, BDSM is one of the most beautiful representations of returning to our roots.  It’s one of the most beautiful expressions of releasing the veil of social oppression, turning our backs against modern relationships, and turning toward something more basic.

In our basic states of Dominance and submission, we are returned to the animal.  I will use my favorite animal as an example:  The aggression expressed between two male lions in the quest to assert territory over the female lionesses is akin to something you’d see if another man attempted to traipse on my Man’s territory.  He’d die to defend it.  The female lioness is a powerful unit in herself, able to hunt and provide for the pack.  She is capable of survival, but feels she cannot survive without the protection of the lion.  The lion will pick the most genetically superior and strong female to copulate with.  He will copulate with her at his will, as many times as he wants, whenever he wants.  She should not try to resist him, as he will remind her of his dominance over her.  Though she may playfully bat at him, resist his initial advances, she ultimately submits.  Is this any different than a healthy BDSM relationship?  If we are animals at heart, is there anything wrong with someone wanting to find their perfect mate?  Is there anything wrong with dominance and submission, if these principles have been the foundation for evolution as long as life has existed upon the Earth?  Is there anything unnatural about asserting power over someone during a sexual act, as long as that person willingly submits their sexual power to the other?  This seems very basic to me.  Participating in a BDSM lifestyle aligns with something so deep within me that it seems to be ingrained in the very essence of who I am.  It brings me back to my primal past.  It feels as though I evolved into an intelligent, powerful, feminine human being; but, ultimately, I am designed to serve Him.  He is designed to protect and have ultimate power over me; something that he feels is ingrained in every fiber of his being.  Being my Dom puts him in touch with his most primal, animal past.

Modern relationships strip away the element of dominance and submission, placing the couple on equal levels of power in the name of “respect”.  Ultimately, this is a farce as couples will repeatedly and relentlessly fight over maintaining the power in the relationship.  The quest for power is still there and will forever remain in the human species, as we are ultimately animals at heart.  Modern relationships are simply generic boxes containing intense power struggles.  They are externally wrapped in beautiful paper, and aesthetically pleasing to the general populace.  Inside, a kitten.  BDSM relationships are slightly misshaped packages; but, inside they hold the treasures of agreement.  They are wrapped in basic brown paper, having no desire to present something visually appealing to the general populace.  But…

Inside, a lion.


Primal

Photo by: FervidM

Photo by: FervidM

I thrive off of a dark soul.  It’s not that I don’t enjoy happiness, or those who express an elevated state of joy on a regular basis.  As I often say…I don’t think defining a complex mind is that easy.  I am not referencing a depressed person, or someone who has deep seeded pain and suffering which manifests itself in inflicting pain upon others; unfortunately, I see too many of those kinds of people in the world, the kinds of people who bring pain upon others to alleviate what resonates within them.  I’m talking about the obscure soul that clings to the darkness for its beauty, holding tightly though a metamorphosis into something beautiful. The caterpillar to a butterfly.  I understand how deliriously cliché the metaphor, but allow me to explain:  I don’t think butterflies are more beautiful after they have gone through a metamorphosis, rather they are simply more colorful with broader wings.  They still cling to their previous physique, looking rather wormy and unappealing.  They clung to their ugly and became something more beautiful, towing their darkness along with them.  That’s the kind of soul I find nourishing in this vast land of superficial happiness.

I believe the most elevated, mind-blowing, and euphoric sexual experiences exist within the darkness of our psyche.  We hold these beautiful images in our elevated storage, locked away behind the bars of societal acceptance.  These images hide behind the cloak of assimilation.  They are fearful sorts, bashfully crouching in the corner whilst our more “pleasant” visions step forward in the light of acceptance.  If you ask me, it’s those visions I find wormy, unappealing, and void of beauty.  They are shallow, stem from minimal creativity; these visions transform themselves and show their faces proudly in open, observable world.  I fail to find sexual nirvana in a field of yellow daisies, slightly bowing their heads to a gentle breeze.  I find sexual euphoria in a perfect storm; powerful, dark, omniscient and destructive.  I want not a wall to remain, a brick to lie there, or a cobblestone of stoic composure to exist after a sexual experience.  Gives a whole new meaning to making it rain…

I thrive on his animalism.  I drink up his power as if thirsting and stumbling upon a stream.  His desires should radiate from his fingertips upon the collection of my skin, with a purpose so strong it leaves bruises upon my delicate flesh.  He shall paint the canvas of my body with his fingers, bent strongly at the knuckles, leaving red paint strokes of fervor upon my skin.  Ripples of plush breast escape through the separation of those fingers, groping with unrepressed craving.  Five finger pads dive deliriously into the lining of my sensual hips, so deep as if intended to touch finger to bone.  Capillaries merrily collapse under the force. The caterpillar to a butterfly, a mere blood vessel giving itself to the light, revealing the beauty of sensual release.  Wings to new heights.

I ask you to lose yourself in the depths so repressed, not a shred of light exists that we don’t create with the radiance of our own shared desires.  I ask that you go to the place where your “demons” lie, and allow them to find solace in my open arms.  I can taste your desire to overpower me, and I can smell your seething for release.  I know your darkness grasps upon the bars of restraint begging to reveal themselves.  I, lying there, spread myself wide in acceptance.  I will hold them close, bringing warmth upon their chilled negligence.  I will ignite them, invite them, and allow them to permeate my soul to a place of approval.  We only truly exist here; bare, stripped of the collage of expectation that becomes our face, the mask that conceals the true animal.

I will have you so removed from your evolved brain, you render yourself inhuman.  I will have you so primal that you only seek to remove your teeth from my flesh as you notice my body buckle under the pain.  I will have you utter sounds undistinguishable to those civilized.  I permit you to release the power you’ve been told to curb.  I will have your testosterone coursing so gloriously through your veins, you find yourself void of all rationale.  There is no room for thought between our compressed bodies, animal.  No accommodations for manners amongst our seeping bodily fluids, animal.  No space for judgment between the depth of your cock and my stressed vessel, animal.  No acceptance for masked sexuality in this sphere, animal.  I will have you rare, exposed.  I will have you reacquainted with the spirit you shelved.  The spirit that was pointed at, ridiculed, and accused of being dirty, ugly, sinister, strange.  I will erase the memories of desertion upon your animal within the baptismal fluids of my sex.  You will be reborn primal; your darkness turning to light, “demons” dance amongst us, acceptance encapsulates us, “strange” is welcomed here, bizarre is amongst company.

We, the dark ones, have no interest in you beautiful people.  You delicately dance atop the sheets covered with boundaries delightfully freshened with Downy.  We writhe, hand in hand with our demons and celebrating the dark recesses with sexual decadence.   You do what you believe is beautiful, afraid to release yourself into the depths of your sexuality, a foot firmly anchored to expectation.  We approach the cliff, fling ourselves off and fall freely into the fire.  You enjoy the safety of delicate hands controlled by a manipulated being, a diluted prowess, a whipped rebel.  We enjoy restraining the body, while freeing the mind, emancipating the soul.  You enjoy your human.  We plea for the animal.  You need the light to see color, and we cannot see color until we’re plunged deeply into the darkness.

Free yourselves,

Fervid M