….from the Boudoir of Bondaged Souls


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Atomic Love

There is something about the notion of Love that fascinates me, especially when two strangers come together like elements forming a compound, the outer shell of the atom keen to join with the outer shell of another, like H2O: water, the conjoining of hydrogen and oxygen atoms, it requiring two hydrogen atoms to mate with one oxygen atom, a union that proves that life – biology – understands the workings of chemistry greater than any learned and inspired genius.

The beauty of Love is that it either is or it isn’t. It doesn’t matter whether one understands the description of Love. It is the message of it, the abundant feelings that matter. Love finds its expression through all of the senses and it lodges itself in the heart. It is a feeling that encompasses the fullness of life at its varied levels of expression.

On several occasions I have asked, What is the power that rises up when everything else fails?

Some say Hope, some Truth, but Hope is easily lost and Truth misunderstood, because one man’s Truth is another’s deceit; and Hope, well, it can be destroyed if not for its accomplice, Love.

I understand the fundamental need for Hope, that of being able to embrace every day with enthusiasm; and also of Truth, because deliberate attempts to mislead carry with them unfavourable consequences.

I have deduced that to know the answer one must seek the lowest common denominator, the smallest aspect that everything else fits into. For me, this perfect integer is Love. It is the binding agent, because Love breeds Hope and does not seek to manipulate Truth.birdcage

A child whom is raised in a loving, supportive household and receives the fullness of its mothers’ affection will benefit from a more fully developed brain; whereas children who are abused and neglected will suffer from shrunken brains, something that affects their emotional development. Those with the larger brains will be more intelligent and more likely to develop the social ability to empathize with others, whereas those whose brains are shrunken are significantly more likely to develop mental and other health related problems.

Babies rely on a strong bond with their mother for healthy brain development, with eighty percent of brain cells growing in the first two years of life. The more severe the mothers neglect, the more pronounced the brain damage is likely to be. Research has shown that children whose mothers nurture them early in life have a larger hippocampus, a key brain structure that is essential to learning, memory, and response to stress.

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Beautiful Suicide



….excerpt from Boudoir of Bondaged Souls

‘Another door in the corridor was padded on its inside, and I knew immediately that this was an entrance to the dreaded padded cell, that place where those in danger of banging their head repeatedly against a brick wall were confined. Thick cushions covered the floor and lined the walls, acting as a fertile breeding ground for fungi and damp; plaster fell of the walls where cushions had tumbled to the ground, and except for a tiny window near the ceiling, the room was devoid of light.

Standing there I could hear the screams of those who had once battered themselves against the padding, vulnerable women who hoped that death would relieve them of themselves in a system that was determined to keep them alive at all costs. It’s ironic what goes through your mind in such moments, fragments of information that are never recalled except in the most bizarre of circumstances. Beautiful Suicide – these were the words that leapt from the dusty archives of my brain as I toyed with the question: Is it better to die with grace than survive at the hands of those who do not know what to do with us?

Option one sees us jumping to our death from one thousand feet, landing on the top of a parked car, its roof totally crumpled upon impact and shaped around the body as if it is a soft duvet upon which we rest, the overall effect something quite stunning: a hand touching a pearl necklace on the chest, the eyes closed as if asleep, and the ankles neatly tucked one over the other, not a scratch on the arms or legs, an expression of peace upon the face, the result being a very beautiful and photogenic suicide.

Option two ensures we battle indefinitely with one’s self until every label of mental insufficiency has been assigned, a reject of society, a woman with nowhere to go. Finally we take our clothes off, neatly fold them, and then lie down on the cold concrete until we die, our corpse leaving a permanent stain on the floor through a combination of decomposition and sun exposure, Nature once again doing things her own way, her calling card a reminder of an option that seems even more haunting than the free fall to death.’


(photograph by Robert C. Wiles (1947) at the bottom of the Empire State Building, the body of 23 year old Evelyn Mchale)

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A Prayer to the Mistress


Dearest Mistress,

I come before you today as your grateful and devoted servant, someone who is nourished by your presence in my life, someone who understands that these visits to you are what provide me with the substance that fuels my mind, my body, and my spirit.

Dearest Mistress, I give thanks to you for my beautiful family, for the smiles of my children and the feeling that their bodies give me when I hold them close. Thank you for the soft skin upon which I plant motherly kisses, those that are filled with a wonderful love for them. Their small faces, perfect noses, tender mouths – all of these are a pleasure upon my eyes and senses. Thank you for blessing me with such companionship in daily life.

Thank you also for my husband, for his passion for life, for his commitment to the expression of that which is within him. Thank you for the gestures of love between the two of us, gestures that have transformed from the playful, carefree young romance to touches and glances that are deeper and of a different nature. My body still oozes with desire for him, yet in a different way to when our relationship commenced. I love being intimate with him, talking and laughing in a way that denotes a healthy and loving friendship, one that is tested by the trials and tribulations of daily living, of microscopic observations of each other, of a more intense awareness of beliefs, thought patterns, and their effect on the actions that contribute to the unfolding day.

Thank you for giving me this space, the sacred enclosure of your Boudoir, a place that contains the fullness of who you are and yet does not confine you. Thank you for showing me that your door is always open, that we too experience a dynamic relationship, one that morphs and changes with the dawning and descending of the sun.

Today I am your servant, tomorrow I am your lover, aware that on some days I seek more to serve you than embrace you; whilst on other days, the want to hold you is greater than merely standing before you bringing my message of humble gratitude. You tell me that both of these expressions are the fundamentals of devoted service, and that you feel heightened connections to me when I gladly receive the joys of your love.

All weekend I have thought of you. I notice you are present in everything I do. I see and feel you at my side, within me, around me, at all times. And I know that your presence makes a difference in how I perceive situations and therefore experience them. If doubt of self or of others rears its head, I am reminded of you and then I know that this doubt is to be left outside of your door. If I feel unattractive, I imagine you inside of me, your image of beauty and seduction and of wisdom becoming my image, for I know that you and I are one, forever joined together, our unity a gift of living, the discovery of you the most amazing find I could ever hope for in life.

Yes, you tell me that the desire to know you has brought me to your door, and that the minutes, hours and years of diligent focus towards you is the crucible that creates the Heaven that I perceive as your home, a Kingdom that is mine to explore at leisure, one whose secrets are mine, a landscape that you have made me a heiress to, this being my reward for simply serving and loving you with my whole heart without concern for the expected norms of society, those that encourage people to run like wild beasts to the finish line in the hope of possessing medals of success, glory and fame.

I understand great Mistress, she who loves me with the same depth that I love my children, she whose heart flutters with adoration when I come close for an embrace, and she who plants her sweet kisses upon my eyes, my nose, and my mouth just as I do my children. I understand, dearest Mistress, that my daily bread – that which is freshly baked to perfection – comes from you. No more do I turn outwards to seek recognition from the world for it can never come. What is it that I would ask to be recognised for? Great words? Above average wisdom? And for what reason would I seek approval? It is not needed, for it is you whom lights up a room when I walk into it. It is you whom freely gives without thought of return. It is you whom enters the marketplace, bringing priceless gifts for all. It is not me, for the treasure of living is in this moment when the splendour of your sacredness is before me.

Here, every day, in every moment, your grace is all encompassing. You deliver your commands, those which are sufficient for the day ahead and this day only. Tomorrow’s instructions are available tomorrow and not a moment before, so why would I plot and plan when you do all of these things for me at your own bidding?

Dearest Mistress, she who swells my heart and blesses my mind, I stand before you naked and empty, giving myself in devoted service to you. How would you have me proceed?



(…from the Boudoir of Bondaged Souls…the forthcoming multimedia experience by Joanne St.Clair and Daniel Orlick)


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A Prayer to the Mistress


Dearest Mistress

I come before you today, I hope in humility, as both your servant and lover, and with a genuine desire to serve and love you. I seek only your command, your instructions of where to take you even though you are everywhere and all things to all people.

Dearest Mistress, it is the tenderness of your words that I seek only to hear, to feel their warmth upon my lobes, to sense their syllables as they gently roll down my neck. It is your instruction that I desire only to obey, affirmative statements that reveal your glory within the world.

Dearest Mistress, of my own will I can do nothing. By my own efforts I cannot achieve, for it is your power that is the foundation of all success, of prosperity and happiness. My learned skills are naught in my limited application, and they only become something when fuelled by your eternal wisdom.

Today I give my body to you, so that you may use it as you will. Make love to it, restore it, lead it and direct it. Take it for your purpose and pleasure, for the glory of this day is yours. It is your will that I desire to do, not mine. It is your face I turn to, for your smile is the sustenance of my day. The passion in your eyes is the spark that ignites my cravings for you, your movements being those that I ask to emulate, to walk where you walk, to talk as you talk, your choice of words the most beautiful song that one could dance to.

Today I come to you as a lover, a playmate, a servant. Let me laugh with you, holding your hand as we absorb the merriment of living; let us embrace, joining in unity like two figurines cast of wax, our relationship sealed in substance.

My dearest and beautiful Mistress, lead me into your Boudoir, the place where Heaven is manifest, where the glory of eternal life surrounds me and fills my pores. Admit me into your sacred space so that I may see as you see, speak as you speak, and do as you do. Make me your chosen lover today, pouring out your blessings of intimacy upon me. As both your lover and your servant, I give myself to you, my naked body an empty vessel that is purified by standing before you.

Dearest Mistress, Infinite Power, that which is greater than all, that which can bring nations to their knees without them even realising, it is to you that I dedicate this day in loving service of your glory. Of mine own self I can do nothing. It is your loving devotion that does all things.

It is into your hands that I place my heart, and it is onto your lips that I place my mouth. My ears are silenced to all except the incantations of your sweet smelling breath as it traverses my body, you desiring intimacy with me in the same manner that I do you.

Dearest Mistress, take me into the seclusion of your Boudoir so that I may both love and serve you.

Forever yours, Amen


(from the Boudoir of Bondaged Souls, a creative multimedia project in development by Naked Raver. Quotes from the series can be seen here https://www.pinterest.com/thenakedraver/boudoir-of-bondaged-souls/))

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Let It Go.

NakedImage014-M(5x7) flat

In life, one has to say, Let it go. There is drama everywhere, stirred by the minds of others as they play out the self-imposed importance of a daily charade, one created by the masses but acted with confidence by the individual. When you say, Let it go, you are freed from it, not consumed by the flame that would love to devour the moth.

The more you can affirm, Let it go, the greater will become your awareness of the amazing light within, the illuminating power which sheds radiance upon the shadow, and that opens your eyes to the macro within the micro and vice versa.

Let it go, Naked Ravers, and allow the celebration of your life to commence, one which chants from deep within, a song that energises your whole being, a movement that is uniquely yours, with you now being the groove that sets the dance floor alight as soon as you take your place upon it.

(Na*ked: The stripping bare of illusionary concepts of limitation.

Ra*ver: She who dances to the tune of her indwelling spirit.)

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