Bound: Thoughts from a Rope Demonstration @ A Sexy Zombie Apocalypse NYC

I have always loved ropes…I took to ropes in a way  I never did to the whips, or clamps, or verbal barbs of BDSM.

Bondage feels natural, to me; it feels like home.

When I am wrapped (bound) I feel safe, complete, protected…in my restraint. As if I can finally give up on all of the struggles in daily life and just relax into the ropes…the ropes will support me…they will hold me…and if I releasethey will deliver me from pain into pleasure.

When I bind another, I feel in control…I feel honored. I feel their trust. A mix of serious concern (for their safety) and waves of pleasure flood my mind. I can always see in their eyes when the session moves from “fun” to the realization that they are dependent on me…completelythey are vulnerable. 

I love this moment…I lean in and give her a kiss to reassure her that she hasn’t misplaced her trust…and then I watch her melt into surrender…and the fun begins: she moves, she reaches, she grabs…the ropes become a part of her, an extension of her sexual desire…and I smile, my intentions met.

The above describes much of what you’ll see in the video (shot by Joel of Kamenwati Productions) below from a Halloween event last weekend. My partner, spontaneously volunteered…and this is what she got:

I hope you enjoyed the video…and I would well wishes to everyone recovering from Sandy on the east coast my heart is with you all,

xxx conchita.

Human Sexuality: The range of emotion it inspires will never cease to amaze me.

Sometimes a feeling is just about an image…a moment.

This morning a friend posted the above image and it was so impactful I immediately felt:




and even…


and perhaps

Shame (?)

Images have power.

They can cultivate and create a feeling much like music does or even personal contact.

I believe that’s why I work with the visual so often, for events and even in my personal life. It’s not about being accepted or even admired…it’s about creating an emotional connection to/with another person.

And what do we do with that initial connection? Well that is completely up to you…isn’t it.

xxx Dr.NB.

Dia de los Muertos: Marigolds 2 Brighten Our Path

Death has arrived
dancing the carisisqui
she has come to take with her
the visitors of Mixquic.

-Tacho, Street Poet

Source: Poem found in Mexico City, Mixquic & Morelos– Through the Eyes of the Soul, Day of the Dead in Mexico

As a little girl I adored marigolds. We planted them in our garden in all shades of yellow, orange and rust. Such a sunlike full flower they were hardy enough to withstand the torrential downpours of Seattle. How fitting then that they are such an integral part of Dia de los Muertos

Flowers, symbolizing the brevity of life, are massed and fashioned into garlands, wreaths and crosses to decorate the altar and the grave. The marigold is the most traditional flower of the season. In Aztec times it was called the cempasuchil, the flower of 400 lives.

The fragrance of the cempasuchil leads the spirits home. Sometimes paths of the petals lead out of the cemetery and to the house to guide the spirits. A cross of marigold petals is formed on the floor so that as the spirit approaches the alter, he will step on the cross and expel his guilt.

(I wonder if it works if you are still living…xxx c.)


Monday’s Poem: ‘Halloween,’ by Sandra Beasley

Somewhere in town tonight,

a woman is discovering

her inner Sexy Pirate.

This is not to be confused

with one’s inner Sexy Witch,

Sexy Kitten, Sexy Librarian,

Sexy Bo Peep, Sexy Vampire,

Sexy Race Car Driver, or

inner Sexy Ophthalmologist.

She forgot to buy ribbon,

so she threads the corset’s eyelets

with gym shoes laces.

She re-poofs the sleeves

of her buccaneer blouse.

Arrrr, she says to the mirror.

Argh, the mirror sighs in return.

Once I asked my mother why

anyone would wear tights like that

to net a fish.

Wouldn’t your legs get cold?

Wouldn’t your heels slip

on the wet deck of a ship? Shush,

my mother said, adjusting the wig

on her Sexy Cleopatra.

Somewhere in town tonight,

a sitter sets out the pumpkin.

A girl studies its fat head.

They punch its eyes in, so

it can see. They cut its mouth out,

so it can smile. Now you bring it

to life, the sitter will say.

And where its seeds had been,

the girl will place a flame.

xxx c.