We are lust machines, driven by a driver who’s been asleep at the wheel since the beginning, dreaming up repressed desires about matriarchy. We are bundles of tightly wound moral balls desperately seeking a release. And our poor ego is stuck in the middle, inflated to the point of rupture, incapable of rapture. So come and shed your moral skin. Strip away the anxiety. Kick off the too-tight underpants of society. And dance on the lap of your ego to the tune of instinct. As Dr. Freud would say, id is what it is.

In the beginning was the moan. The primordial sound. It was the potent seed that fertilised the void. The one became two became three. And became many. We are the children of this Big Bang - the vessels of this cosmic intercourse. We are conduits of the Divine Feminine, waiting for her arrival. Waiting for her to come and envelop us in her power, waiting to writhe and throb in ecstasy, to flirt with the forbidden. Waiting to seek that which will surely kill us. Waiting to be reborn in her image.

Jewellery by @profanevirtues

Hush and hark. The night rises. This is not the night of Dionysius, drunk with lust as it may be. Dead of the night, you say? No, this is the life of the night, when the subduer of gods and men wraps herself in shadows to pull you down into the nether. This is the night of Nyx, the primordial one. Daughter of Chaos, Consort of the Dark, Connoisseur of Coitus, Damsel of Depravity, Nyx navigates your dreams to chain your ego and unchain your secrets.

Sometimes you just have to regress. To remember our pre-erectus days, when we roamed on all fours, growling with animal passion. Prehensile tails telegraphing primeval urges across a primitive world. Scent marking our sensual portfolios in a seductive game of cat and mouse. So out with your spirit animal, be it cat, mouse or tigress. Out with your claws and fangs. We are sorry, Mr. Darwin, but we are turning the dial back on evolution.

Fe Fo Fi Fum. Why so glum, sugarplum? Leave a saucer of milk on the windowsill, invoke the ancient precepts, and wait for Kinkerbell to come calling in the dead of the night to buff those boots and mend that belt. She’s no cat, but she does love scratches. She’s no pet, but she does love collars. She’s no monster, but she does love biting. So get your wishes ready, snort some pixie dust and prepare for your happily ever after.

We should have nipped this in the bud. Back when the first Stone Age uncles that couldn’t handle all those Stone Age breasts tried to cover up their insecurities by ordering women to cover up, we should have shorn those big wigs. But it’s never too late to castrate. Chop off those odious orders. Cut through the corset of conformity. Rip off the placebo bandaid on fragile masculinity. Eviscerate the bovine excrement. In other words, cut the bullshit.

#BDSM #FuckPatriarchy

Tantra is a map to turn you on, and turn you in, and to turn you beyond. It is freedom; freedom from all mind-constructs, from all mind-games; freedom from all structures; freedom from the other. Tantra is space to be. Tantra is liberation, a total orgasm of the whole being.

Talent Shicuki

All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. So break out of that cubicle and play a little. Shed those sterile corporate threads designed by an insecure world that can't handle a bit of cleavage. And those who can't look beyond what you wear, well they can go fuck an empty pantsuit.

Talent: Stella Practoor

"Yo pappa so rigid he helped create a world run by condescending control freaks." Men so unimaginative and style-deficient as to wear black suits every single day think they can tell women what to wear. They have no problem showing off their naked ignorance but lose their collective cool when they see a cleavage. It's time to drain out this stagnated puddle of testosterone. And to show the world that having balls has nothing to do with being brave.

Talent Rachna Ramdin
Hair & Makeup Sonia Bennett

We may have lost the fangs, but not the bite. We may stand upright, but we still bend over. We may speak many languages, but we still howl and roar. It's primal, it's raw, and it's our strongest emotion, harking back to a time when we prowled the jungles tracking that mating call. You can take the animal out of the wild, but you can't take the wild out of the animal. Rawrrrrr!

#BDSM #AnimalPlay #WildAtHeart

India has always been a morally rigid society. We are told what we can wear. We are told what our sexual preferences should be, how to behave, how our careers should be, what we can eat, what we can’t drink, who will dig our earth, who will dirty our oceans and so on. But who gave them this authority? We let them have it so far. But not anymore. We have had enough and we are going to voice our opinions.