If blood isn’t your cup of tea, feel free to skip this post! I’ll be sure not to remind you that we are all full of blood. But to me, there is nothing more romantic than blood play. For many, blood is associated with cold, medical environments. For me it stems from a place of curiosity and devotion. It is a ritual sacrifice, saved only for devoted submissives and explorers.

“Flesh is like a sensate tissue that extends beyond the physical body, touching and being touched by others, touching and being touched by the material world. It encompasses the spaces between oneself and others, creating a kind of unthought, visceral knowing. Flesh evokes both the vitality and frailty of the body, a sense of the loved and living body. Flesh is a medium of contact. Flesh is skin with depth, movement and vitality. There is the capacity to excite and disturb, the desire to get under another’s skin, to get into the other in such a way that will not be forgotten. To be taken over and filled up by another, to penetrate and be penetrated in our intimate relationships.”

We grasp and shape flesh like a prayer.

To be embodied.

To be dismembered.

To become undone.

But no matter how deep we are inside another, only our flesh will ever be our own.

Savoring the touch that makes our flesh more our own.

And gratitude for being permitted entry.