Aphrodite is a heavy-handed MILF!

This was posted on Facebook by Church Militant.  I liked it because it’s true.  I’ve seen a lot of bitching this year on Facebook by Pagans bemoaning all the commercialism attached to Valentine’s Day and the fact that they feel left out because they did not properly budget for this year.  Those aren’t really their words, but that’s the basic gist.  What they said was “Whine, whine, whine, bitch, bitch, bitch, moan, moan, moan.”  If you’re a Pagan, you really shouldn’t care about celebrating Valentine’s Day.  Instead, you should be focused on celebrating Lupercalia!  All you need to do on Lupercalia is fuck and fuck and fuck some more!  If you’re really going to be fun, get out your play toys and beat some fertility into each other.  Which brings us to the lovely Aphrodite, one of the patronesses here at the Barbed Pentacle.

Evidently, Cupid is a very bad boy and Aphrodite is a heavy-handed MILF, at least according to classical art.

This picture is like a reverse pinata–blindfold the kid and beat him with a stick.

The greeting card companies never market cards with Cupid on it that say, “Pray that Cupid isn’t mischievous this year and sets you up with a psychopath” because that’s one of the fucked up things that Cupid likes to do for fun.

Often Ares or Mars, Aphrodite’s long-time lover, gets in on the action.

Sometimes, though, Aphrodite and Cupid gang-up on Ares.

It’s like if Rapunzel were in to flagellation! Ares looks like he’s smiling.

However, the MILF always gets what she deserves in the end.

The ways of exploring the relationship between Aphrodite, Cupid, and Ares are endless. If you want to go the S&M route, roses are a good choice to use as an implement, as are arrows.  Field arrows aren’t very expensive and offer lots of options.   The shaft can be used like a rod or cane on a willing sacrifice, the fletching is nice for tickling, and the point, well, it has all kinds of possibilities.  If Love hasn’t been kind to you, you can always beat it.  The ancients were fond of creating sculptures and such to represent deities and ideas.  If the harvest was poor or some sort of natural disaster occurred, the sculptural representative received the physical brunt of the supplicants’ displeasure.  There’s no reason not to continue this tradition.  At the very least, it’ll be fun and make you feel better.

What will I be doing for Lupercalia?  I’m going to wear red and let the Big Bad Wolf eat me up!

My theory is that the story of “Little Red Riding Hood” is a vague carry over from ancient Lupercalian celebrations.  I haven’t done any research toward substantiating my theory yet, but maybe one day.

Looking for something to read on Lupercalia?  Try Tonia Brown’s Devouring Milo.  I’ll admit, I haven’t gotten very far in the book yet because I’ve been thankfully too busy blessedly spreading my fingers as a sexy word whore, but what I read was fantastically gory.

http://www.amazon.com/Devouring-Milo-Tonia-Brown-ebook/dp/B00DWZYWKO

These folks know how to suck your titties:

Mystic Artisanshttps://www.facebook.com/mysticartisans

Passion And Soulhttp://passionandsoul.com/

Help with the project: http://www.indiegogo.com/projects/more-shibari-you-can-use

Tonia Brown:  www.thebackseatwriter.com

https://www.facebook.com/events/442022209256634/

Quadrivium Supplies:  http://www.quadrivium-supplies.com/  

Hyperdreams Interactive Storieshttp://www.hyperdreams.com/

 

 

Tie on that Apron and Flour Up Your Bosom, Ms. Kay, Part 2

In our last post it was established that Phil Robertson has some issues with homosexuals.  Supposedly, his issues come from his deep religious beliefs and the Bible, but I really suspect that they come from homo-erotic urges that he felt back when he frequented the football field and locker rooms.  I mean really, American Football is all about tight ends, tight pants, and smacking guys’ asses.  You can’t have your hands that close to a guy’s crotch to receive his ball and not feel something.

This is the Queen of Heaven.  Both Phil Robertson and the Queen of Heaven like guns.  Both Phil Robertson and the Queen of Heaven like to eat barbequed animals.  Both Phil Robertson and the Queen of Heaven have extremely healthy sex drives.  Both Phil Robertson and the Queen of Heaven are Southerners from the Deep South.  Both Phil Robertson and the Queen of Heaven are passionately devoted to their religious beliefs.  Both Phil Robertson and the Queen of Heaven are men.  But the Queen of Heaven’s name is Wes.  He lives in Texas, owns guns, has a high profile job (more powerful in a lot of ways than Phil Robertson), comes from God’s chosen people, saves lives all the time for fun–in his spare time–with the EMS, and is a dedicated devotee to Hera, the Queen of Heaven.

In plain clothes at a BBQ joint, Phil Robertson and Wes in his EMS shirt would probably nod and exchange their “man smiles”, and chat randomly while they wait for their food.  They may even discuss their love for God and country.  But Phil Robertson wouldn’t speak nicely to Wes as the Queen of Heaven.  Instead Phil Robertson believes that the Queen of Heaven and other queens are “…full of murder, envy, strife, hatred. They are insolent, arrogant God-haters. They are heartless. They are faithless. They are senseless. They are truthless. They invent ways of doing evil.”  Yes, the Queen of Heaven and all the other homosexuals and sexual “sinners” in the world spend all their time trying to invent ways of doing evil (really?).  I don’t.  I spend all my time watching you blow up stuff on Duck Dynasty and pull your flour covered wife into the bedroom for your own sexual sins.  But, that’s for Part 3.  Watching Ms. Kay makes me crave dumplings.

Worship with the Queen of Heaven: http://nshrine.com/shrine/Heras_Queen_of_Heaven

These folks know that Phil Robertson believes that  ”“They committed indecent acts with one another, and they received in themselves the due penalty for their perversions.”:

Mystic Artisanshttps://www.facebook.com/mysticartisans

Passion And Soulhttp://passionandsoul.com/

Tonia Brown:  www.thebackseatwriter.com

Quadrivium Supplies:  http://www.quadrivium-supplies.com/  

Hyperdreams Interactive Storieshttp://www.hyperdreams.com/

Tie on that apron and flour up your bosom, Ms. Kay!: Part 1

I like Duck Dynasty.  I like their show.  I think they’re funny.  Despite what Phil said about gay people, despite my own sexual preferences and how I completely disagree with what he said, and despite how I find it a little disturbing how the Duck Dynasty folks are now the darlings of the GOP and Christian Right, I still like their show.  I even liked the episode where they set fire to the beaver dam.  If you haven’t seen the show, A&E has several episodes on their site: http://www.aetv.com/duck-dynasty/video?mkwid=sv8qQu8uW|dc_pcrid_36125531115_pkw_duck%20dynasty_pmt_e&utm_source=google&utm_medium=cpc&utm_term=duck%20dynasty&utm_campaign=G_Duck+Dynasty&paidlink=1&cmpid=PaidSearch_google_G_Duck+Dynasty_duck%20dynasty&gclid=CNLIn5O6t7wCFUYOOgod7A4AIw

Phil Robertson has a right to voice his opinion, and A&E has a right to fire his ass too.   Phil decided to take a risk and say something that he deeply believes despite the fact that he knew there would be a backlash.  I respect him for that even though I know he wouldn’t respect me as a kinky Pagan bisexual pornographer who believes in polyamory.

The Robertsons, according to the dialogue on their show, live in the West Monroe/Monroe, Louisiana area (http://www.westmonroe.com/).  From the evidence on Witchvox, there is a very small but growing Pagan community there.  There is a brand new meet-up that will be starting in Monroe, LA on Saturday: http://www.witchvox.com/vn/vn_detail/dt_ev.html?a=usla&id=90304.  Then there is this group in West Monroe, that from its profile seems to be fairly established: http://www.witchvox.com/vn/vn_detail/dt_gr.html?a=usla&id=38550.  And then there’s this group, that I really just can’t take seriously.  They’ll probably bring me up on charges to the vampire magistrate or some other such nonsense:  http://www.witchvox.com/vn/vn_detail/dt_gr.html?a=usla&id=39712.  If you’re Pagan and in the Monroe/West Monroe, LA, I invite you to check out the first two groups, especially the new meet-up.  Meet-ups are great places to go and feel things out.

These are photos from a local Christian book store:

So, what to do about Phil Robertson?  Stay tuned for why I really like Phil Robertson and my final solution to the Duck Dynasty problem.

These folks have a final solution for you:

Mystic Artisanshttps://www.facebook.com/mysticartisans

Passion And Soulhttp://passionandsoul.com/

Tonia Brown:  www.thebackseatwriter.com

Quadrivium Supplies:  http://www.quadrivium-supplies.com/  

Hyperdreams Interactive Storieshttp://www.hyperdreams.com/

She Holds the Scissors

Use this as a neat waning moon activity.  Cut something out that’s superfluous.  You’ll feel better.

I’m the Withershins Crone,

my sister spins your existence,

and I cut it short.

She adds things to your life, and I cut them out.

You misunderstand me constantly, but I understand you perfectly!

I see your needs, but you get greedy—always wanting and begging my sister to add the unimportant.

You get sick from your desires. They only have false meanings for you.

I have to cut them away for your own good.

Like the dead ends you trim for healthier hair—you cringe at first, but in time you see it’s better—healthier.

Open yourselves now so I can snip away your clutter, your ragged dead ends for a healthier you.

These folks want you to clip away the unnecessary clutter:

Mystic Artisanshttps://www.facebook.com/mysticartisans

Passion And Soulhttp://passionandsoul.com/

Tonia Brown:  www.thebackseatwriter.com

 

https://www.facebook.com/events/442022209256634/

Quadrivium Supplies:  http://www.quadrivium-supplies.com/  

Hyperdreams Interactive Storieshttp://www.hyperdreams.com/

An Ancient Dance

Happy Yule!  Yule is a special time of romance, drinking, sacrifice, and violence.  This year to celebrate, we want to give to you a special, sexy Yule meditation–a seasonal romance.

You can read it as is by yourself, you and a partner can whisper it to each other as pillow talk before mid-winter love making, or you can step it up a notch and add a textual element with the use of evergreens.  Holly leaves can be used like a Wartenberg wheel; pine, fir, rosemary and other evergreen boughs can be used as a fragrant love nest; smaller boughs can be used as invigorating switches (the scent of many evergreens are used in aromatherapy for invigorating sluggish souls) or sensual ticklers; ivy vines can be used make sure your lover doesn’t run off in the middle of your winter revels.  As with anything sex and BDSM related: make sure everything is consensual, everyone is legal, safety is top priority, and outdoor sex occurs on private land that you have permission to use.

It was approaching Mid-Winter.  A time of great frivolity and expectation.  A time when the ancient winter crone tries to sneak up on the waiting spring maiden.  A time of bittersweet sacrifice.

A cold crispness filled the air, like biting into an apple from the icebox.  She waited outside, growing impatient as she grew cold, waiting for entrance to the large castle.  To wait outside like a common visitor, she thought to herself, and in the snow no less!  Her retinue of ladies, whom she fondly called her ‘tendrils’, waited behind her.  More patient than their mistress, they smiled sweetly thinking of the vigorous festivities that waited inside.  Finally, she completely lost her poise and patience and started pounding her delicate fist on the sturdy oaken door.

“I am the Ivy Queen!  You can’t keep me in the yard like a stranger!  There’s snow on the ground and it’s freezing!  I’m freezing!  Open up!  Open upppp!”  She screamed in all her fury, her nearly exposed bosom heaving in her tight, rabbit fur trimmed bodice.  She pounded until her hand was bruised.  ”Let me in!!!!!!!!  I demand an audience with the king!”  She could hear a deep, mirthful laughter resonate from the heart of the castle, as if the castle itself was laughing at her predicament.  

“And who have you come to see, lady?”  The laughing voice asked from an upper window.

“I’ve come to see the Holly King!  I’m expected!  You know that!  Stop asking and let me in!”  The Ivy Queen screamed.  Her hand would have ached if it wasn’t numb.  Her teeth were starting to chatter.  She pulled her green velvet mantle around tight, trying to still her shivering.  She knew that most of the shivers were from the cold, but a certain amount of it was anticipation and nervousness.  Would there come a day when he wouldn’t admit her at all?  When her body finally was no longer attractive to him?  When he just didn’t return?  That was always a possibility, she felt.  Then she would be left forever with his twin, the stern Oak King, who was not nearly as much fun.

The deep laugh boomed again.  ”No!  Not yet!  Not ’til you learn some respect!”  The Holly King shut the casement, but stayed close to the window to see the resulting fury.  The Ivy Queen screeched in rage, yelling obscenities and threats.  Toying with her turned him on in ways that her vine like fingers crawling over his body in foreplay never could.  He loved seeing her creamy skin flush in anger, contrasting against her green clothing that she was so fond of.  Today she was in a heavy green velvet, covered in embroidered ivy vines.  Although she never aged or changed, he never grew tired of seeing her, being with her, holding her tight.  She embodied everything that mankind hoped for in a woman.  She was the ‘Every Woman’.  She was Queen.

The Holly King looked down again.  She was literally fallen now, utterly broken.  She was a green heap against the snow.  He opened the casement and could hear her soft crying.  Her Tendrils looked embarrassed for their mistress as they waited behind her, all in light green with their hands in white fur muffs.  He could feel the crotch of his trousers tighten.  He had had each of the ladies during his season, but now it was time to be with his queen again, the last hours of passion and love before she became his brother’s queen.
  

The great door opened on its own, and the Ivy Queen looked up, not sure that it had finally done so.  Every year it was the same for the first and last meeting.  She always said that the Holly King was the nicer of the two twins, but he did have his mean streak.  He enjoyed reducing her to tears before he built her back up to being queen.  But his method of building was lots of fun.  She got up stiffly and shook off the snow.  The Holly King smiled watching her trembling shivering movements that shook the bounteous blessings of her breasts.

Once inside, the Ivy Queen moved quickly through the castle to her love.  Although this was an endless drama that continuously played out, she always felt a great sense of urgency, as if that if she didn’t take advantage of every moment with the Holly King, she would regret it forever.  She arrived at his door, panting slightly for breath.  A sudden blush flooded her face as she thought about the things he would do to her.  She blushed a little more deeply thinking about what she would do to him, how she would slid her mouth down…

“Do you prefer the hallway to my rooms?”  The king teased.

She looked at him, and the warmth beneath her gown that had been building all day accelerated.  ”No, I’d much prefer your rooms.”  That was all it took.  The King grabbed her up and spun her around, kissing her deeply.  As they kissed, the Holly King felt as though his heart was being encased in vines, binding him to her forever.  ”Oh, I’m so hot.”  the Ivy Queen said, as they pulled apart.

“Well, let’s get you out of some of those clothes.”  The king replied with a broad grin.  Broad was the key word with the Holly King.  Broad smile, broad shoulders, broad appetites.  Built like a tank, he was a brawler, where as his wiry, lithe brother enjoyed quick jabs.  He removed her fur muff that matched the Tendrils’ and her heavy dark green cloak.  The king reached into her low cut bodice and pulled out a handful of breast.  ”Your girls don’t have girls like these,” he whispered as started to softly squeeze and suckle her ivory globe.  She bent her head forward in a protective gesture, their crowns meeting and caressing each other as her vine fingers twined in his hair.  The king liberated the other breast but turned his head to the side so that his holly crown pricked the skin.

“So we’re going to play that game, are we?”  The Ivy Queen coyly inquired, fully knowing the answer.  They always played ‘Tickles and Prickles.’  It was one of her favorite boudoir activities.  The Holly King loved to play long games of seduction, full of rich food and sweet, intoxicating beverages.  The Oak King was all business.  All procreation, hard work, plain food, and plain water.

“Of course we are, my love.  And if you try to scoot away, I’ll tie you with ivy vines.”  He laughed as he pushed her large tits together and blew into them like a motorboat.  The Ivy Queen giggled.  That was a tickle.  The King untied her tight bodice that her breasts were now hanging out of, and slipped it off, along with her gown.  Her clothing was starting to litter the floor.

“Wine?”  The king asked, fully drinking in the sight of his darling standing before him in nothing but a thin green silk shift.  The Ivy Queen had slipped her breasts back beneath the silk so that her nipples now pressed tauntingly against the fabric.  She nodded as he handed her his goblet.  That’s how it was with him.  They shared.  He shared with everyone, despite his large appetite.  Enough was never enough but there was always plenty.  His twin was miserly with everything.  The only thing that he shared halfway willingly was his bed, and even then he preferred that the Ivy Queen bring her own blanket.

Outside the darkness was starting to gather as the sun set.  It was always iffy if the sun would rise the next morning.  The Ivy Queen knew that somewhere the Ancient Mother Goddess was pacing and squatting somewhere in the throes of labor.  The couple moved to the window to watch the bonfires being lit.  The king stood close behind his queen so that she could feel his growing need against her back.  He wrapped his thick arms around her and held her tight as she sipped.  He blew lightly on her neck exposed by her ivy snood.  She shivered.  Then he took a holly leaf and very lightly rolled it across her neck. She shimmied against his hard-on, making him very happy.

“More wine?”  The King asked, drinking the last from the goblet and refilling it.  While his back was turned, The Ivy Queen slipped off the last of her clothing so that she now stood there in all her glory.  She stood there full figured with nothing on but her crown of ivy with leaves and tendrils hanging down over her vine snood.  She bit her lip in anticipation of his reaction.  When he saw her, he grinned with a wolfish delight.

“I’m going to eat every creamy ounce of you!” he declared and made a playful lunge at her. She squealed and danced out of his reach.  Here and there she dodged him, her curves bouncing to the King’s delight.  During the Oak King’s reign, she always slimmed down on his meager rations, but her figure always blossomed under the Holly King’s largess. Finally, she found herself cornered on the bed.  ”Do you concede, lady?” he asked, his cheeks ruddy from the chase.

“Mmmmmm, uh, no!” she squealed and started pelting him with pillows.

“Then I’ll have to tickle and prickle you into submission!” he roared as he pounced on her, holding her down with his brawny arms.  He lowered his head once again to her naked breasts and lolled his head back and forth, letting the leaves of his crown prick her flawless skin.  The sensation was almost electric for the Queen, and it unlocked the passion between her legs.  She could feel herself growing moist in anticipation.  He moved slowly down her torso, rolling the leaves over her rib cage and soft stomach.  Her sighs turned to moans as he prickled her thighs, which could be very properly called ‘gams’, and gently across her mons.  He let the leaves comb through the silken locks, tickling and prickling at the same time.  He pushed his crown back on his head and started softly tickling her delicate skin with his beard, urging her to open up to let him in.

“I don’t think I should be the only one naked,” the queen said in response to the king’s ministrations.

“Hmmm, then you should undress me.”  The queen took a deep quaff of wine, and proceeded to undress her king.  She unlaced the front of his shirt and slipped it over his broad shoulders and head, being careful to leave his crown in place.  Then she turned her attention to his boots, which were a little more difficult to remove.  Finally, she was at his pants, more precisely between his pants covered thighs.  Through the fabric she started kissing and nuzzling her king, driving him into a slight frenzy.  With her teeth, the Ivy Queen pulled loose the button on his fly, releasing his manhood.  She kissed its tip and looked up at her man.

“I want you on the bed.”

“And who are you to tell me what to do, Queen?  Didn’t we settle this dominance issue outside in the snow when you first arrived?”  The King tried to sound stern like his brother, but it was hard for him to suppress his mirth.

“Do as I say or I’ll tie YOU up with ivy!”  the Queen retorted, smiling.  Her hand was still sore and a little swollen from pounding on the door earlier.

The Holly King acquiesced and leaned back.  His consort straddled him backwards, settling her ample hips and buttocks onto his broad chest.  He couldn’t resist giving her creamy cheeks a pinch.

“Hey!  Not fair!”  The Ivy Queen protested.  Her king just laughed.

She placed her ivy crown over his growing erection in an imitation of a decorated maypole waiting for dancers.  She loosened her locks and tendrils from her vine snood and flipped her hair over onto the king’s body.  He had the prickles, but she had the tickles.  More slowly than a snail, the Ivy Queen pulled her hair along his skin, gently scooting her ass back towards his face with every wiggle.  The sensation of her hair was both soothing and sexually exciting for the king.  Soon her vagina was right where she wanted it, with in licking distance of the king’s tongue.  She was going to hold him to the promise of devouring every luscious ounce of her.  She lifted her hips and lowered herself on to his parted lips.  His tongue started lapping as she stretched her body to reach the wide expanse between the king’s mouth and cock.  She flicked her tongue up and down his penis in quick, teasing moves, bringing him to full erection before sliding him into her ruby lipped mouth.

They worked as a matched pair, always in perfect timed rhythm.  They both went slowly at first, the Holly King entertaining the queen with long deep strokes of his tongue into her wanting wetness.  She moaned continuously over him as she slowly moved her mouth up and down his cock, like a child savoring a lollipop.  The more she moaned, the bigger the king grew and the deeper he dove to savor her earthy goodness that was tinged with a slight bitter aftertaste.  The Holly King never faulted the love the that he shared with his brother for her bitterness; for after all, her life was nothing but a bittersweet romance set on a continuous loop.

He felt his companion’s thighs tighten and tense around his ears, and he knew she was close.  He pinched one of her cherubic thighs to get her attention.  She knew what that meant.  It was no longer fun and games, but time to enjoy each other one last time.  With a loud pop she let his penis slip from the suction of her lips.  She inched forward on hands and knees over his chest, swinging her luscious hips as she went.  Those hips would be lean and almost gaunt by the time this king returned–if he returned.  She pushed that fear away as she turned to face him, their eyes locked together as she slid her gushing wetness onto him for their ancient dance.

While their oral ministrations had become rather vigorous, the couple chose a slow minuet to start off their coital finale.  The Ivy Queen once again flipped her hair forward, letting it swish across the king’s broad chest.  She could feel what she thought was the tickle of her ivy crown on her mossy mons Venus, but when she pressed down harder to bring her lover more fully into her depths, she gasped.

“That’s very cruel!”  she hissed as she stilled moved her body in their tango.  ”That’s not fair!  How did you switch your crown for mine?”

“The nature of sacrifice is cruel and unfair, my love.  But you anointing my crown makes it all worthwhile and meaningful.”

Their tango became a painful flash dance as both moved more quickly toward their last orgasm.  They screamed in wild abandon, clawing and clinging to each other as the realization that things may not go as they always have gone loomed between them.  With a growl, the Holly King came so hard that the Ivy Queen felt a violent jolt in her loins.  As she slowly lifted herself off of him, blood dotted her skin from the crown, like red holly berries.  The King leaned up and licked some of the blood berries from her skin.  ”A holly doesn’t bloom and bear fruit if it’s not pollinated.” He whispered.

For the rest of the evening the couple snuggled in furs, dining on paper thin slices of raw stag and roasted whole wrens on skewers.  They both drank deeply from the wine goblet, joking and laughing about devouring the Horned God, debating whether he tasted better raw or roasted.  Inevitable though, the knock was heard on the Holly King’s door, announcing that the midnight hour was drawing near.  Abruptly the revelry ceased, and the lovers prepared for their fates.

*************************************************************************************************

“All hail the Oak King!  Our victor!”  The marshal announced to the stunned onlookers.  Even though all in attendance knew the expected outcome, when the Holly King’s blood is spilled upon the snow they are always shocked into silence.  For a moment, there was nothing, but then a wild roar of applause and cheers erupted, shattering the winter evening like an icicle.

The Ivy Queen looked torn between her two kings:  the one covered in blood on the frozen ground, already turning to a mystical ash that was being blown away by the North wind, the other standing triumphant with his sword aloft, covered in his twin’s gore.  The triumphant king came to her then, and took her hand.

“It appears that you’ve been living high on the hog, my lady.”

She barely nodded.

“Well, that’ll change soon.  We’ll get you back on a schedule.  By the way, who killed Cock Robin?”

She smiled.  Things would be different and less jolly, but fine nonetheless.  ”The Sparrow did, my king.”  He bowed then, formally kissing her hand.  Different she thought, but the same.

These folks are waiting for the sunshine of your love:

Mystic Artisanshttps://www.facebook.com/mysticartisans

Quadrivium Supplies: http://www.quadrivium-supplies.com/

Passion And Soulhttp://passionandsoul.com/

Tonia Brown:  www.thebackseatwriter.com

No Hide Floggers: http://jinglepets-nohide.blogspot.com/

Hyperdreams Interactive Sex Stories:  http://www.hyperdreams.com/

 

Fuck Corporate Hollywood

I like watching documentaries.  They preserve the odd and ends of our society.  They allow us to into worlds that often times we never knew existed.  Vicarious living on the cheap. Documentarians fill the role that village elders use to have–preserving and perpetuating cultures.

 

Brian Cottingham, of DaggerVision Films (http://www.daggervisionfilms.com/), is working on a fund raising campaign for his documentary House of Oddities:  The Story of The Atrocity Exhibition.  According to Cottingham’s Kickstarter page, “House of Oddities:  The Story of The Atrocity Exhibition is a feature length documentary detailing the behind the scenes madness that goes into creating Pittsburgh’s annual underground celebration of the weird and bizarre, The Atrocity Exhibition; now in its 5th year.

The Atrocity Exhibition brings a truly 360 degree artist collective bringing together the best  in dark burlesque, cabaret, performance art, and fine art from across the nation.  Each year is a themed show in which on stage performers fuse their own talents with the theme to create a truly unique show.

This film goes behind the makeup and costumes to expose the behind the scene workings of the event.  This includes interviews with Macabre Noir and Dr. Morose, founders of The Atrocity Exhibition, members of Kabarett Vulgare; a Pittsburgh based side show and performance art troupe that represents the core performers of The Atrocity Exhibition, traveling performers that bring their own unique gifts to the show, and the collection of dark artists that make up this immersive art collective.”

With the money raised, Cottingham hopes to have the film printed to DVDs and to have online distribution.  He also has hopes of submitting his film to the SXSW Film Festival (South by South West) and the Coney Island Film Festival, and for the film to be distributed to independent theaters with ample promotion.

So, why is this project important?  It’s important because it chronicles an annual exhibit of the dark and twisted, things that secretly fascinate many of us.  It’s important because it preserves for the future the ritual and ceremony of the carnival, something that’s being lost in today’s society.  Being part of a carnival is very much like being part of a coven.  You’re a  member of a closed society that others long to join, others deride, and you’re privy to secret information that seems extremely mysterious to the outside world but in reality is deceptively simple.  All the coven players are there:  the petitioners, the new initiates, the maiden, the summoner, the bevy of second degree priests and priestesses, and of course, the high priest and priestess.  You, the audience, are the special guest worshipers that have been invited for select esbats and sabats.  There is even cakes and ale at the concession stand.  And don’t forget about the sacred hootchie-cootchie Hiero Gamos!

If you can’t give to the Kickstarter campaign (http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/bcottington85/house-of-oddities-the-story-of-the-atrocity-exhibi), at least consider lighting a real or virtual candle to St. Expeditus (http://nshrine.com/shrine/st_expeditus) for the film.  If nothing else, go to the Kickstarter site and watch the trailer for the film.  The fund drive ends August 2, 2013.

For more information on the Atrocity Exhibition: http://www.moroseandmacabre.com/atrocity2013.html

These folks believe in supporting independent film:

Mystic Artisanshttps://www.facebook.com/mysticartisans

House of Oddities Movie Kickstarter Project: http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/bcottington85/house-of-oddities-the-story-of-the-atrocity-exhibi

Passion And Soulhttp://passionandsoul.com/

Tonia Brown:  www.thebackseatwriter.com  Check out Devouring Milo, Tonia’s newest work: http://www.amazon.com/Devouring-Milo-ebook/dp/B00DWZYWKO

The Barbed Pentacle’s Second Birthday Bash: http://barbedpentacle.com/2013/06/second-birthday-bash/

 

All Tied Up, Part 3: Tie me up, Mr. Buckland!

Most of you reading this post have probably seen this picture in Raymond Buckland’s “Big Blue Book” (not the book’s real title).  This picture is why the book cannot be placed in prison libraries for Wiccan prisoners.  In case you’re seeing this picture out of context, it is showing how to tie an initiate during initiations.

Knots have a long, but sometimes neglected, history in magic.  Good can be tied to you or less than good can be bound up.  Numerology can come into play with the number of loops and twists in a magic knot, as well as color magic for the cord being used.  If the knot magic is being used in bondage, consider corresponding some scents to your intentions.  Simply anoint your rope with a few drops of essential oil(s).  Knot magic is very easy.  As you tie the knot, visualize what ever you want tied to you or what you want bound up and tied up away.  You can also say a power word, charm, or chant as you tie the knots.

Not Your Granny’s Knots

Two Knotty Boys (also known as Dan and JD) have some of the best and easy to follow tutorial videos on the Internet for tying knots (http://www.knottyboys.com). The videos discussed in this post can be found for free download at http://www.knottyboys.com/code/downloads.php. The first two videos that I recommend that you check out is the video on how to make your own rope and the video on how to dye your rope.  While it’s not necessary for you to make your own rope, your magic will have more power behind it if you twist your intent into your rope and then tie it in as well.  Likewise, colored rope is readily available for purchase, but your spell will have more power if you are able to meditate while you dye your rope and charge it with your intent.

The next video that you should look at is the rope web video.  The rope web has many magical possibilities.  It can be used most obviously in weaving and spider magic.  It could also be erected in a bedroom as a dream catcher.  The creation of the web could be used as a meditative exercise.  I’m excited to create some spider rituals using this web.  You could be the spider lying in wait or the helpless fly bound up in a rope corselet harness.

The double coin knot can be used in a magic spell using a green rope.  The knot work and remaining rope can be turned into a witch’s ladder or money amulet for the home or business utilizing coins and “money” gemstone beads, such as aventurine or jade.  The prosperity knot can also be done in conjunction with the double coin knot.

The pentagram harness has a multitude of possibilities.  It can be used to ground and center a person for ritual.  It’s a wonderful new twist on the traditional Gardnerian bondage for initiations.  It can also be as a way to bound yourself to a deity for channeling or other practices.  Plus, best of all, it’s just plain witchy!

The last video that I would suggest looking at for knot magic is the rope panties video.  It combines the trinity knot, which can be seen as representative of the feminine or as the triple aspect of deity, and the snake weave, which can be seen as the masculine.  The panties are perfect for sex magic, true heiros gamos, or fertility magic.

Have fun with your knots, and remember that bondage should not cut off circulation or abraid skin.  While natural fiber ropes can be fun, soft nylon or cotton ropes are safest.

These folks are all tied up with knot magic:

Mystic Artisanshttps://www.facebook.com/mysticartisans

House of Oddities Movie Kickstarter Project: http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/bcottington85/house-of-oddities-the-story-of-the-atrocity-exhibi

Passion And Soulhttp://passionandsoul.com/

Tonia Brown:  www.thebackseatwriter.com

The Barbed Pentacle’s Second Birthday Bash: http://barbedpentacle.com/2013/06/second-birthday-bash/

All Tied Up, Part 1: Chastity or Bondage?

“Next and lastly I present the cords. They are of use to bind the sigils of the art, also the material basis. Also they are necessary in the oath.” –Gardnerian Book of Shadows, 1st degree initiation

The Cingulum, which is Latin for “girdle”, is a piece of clothing/tool that in our present day is rarely seen on Pagans.  It is typically a rope of some fiber and color that is worn around the waist.  Sure, Gardnerians still proudly wear them, but most Pagans are not even in traditions that bestow them any more.  This is a shame, because cingulums, also sometimes called “witch’s cords”, can be a lot of fun and quite useful.

Praecinge me, Domine, cingulo puritatis, et exstingue in lumbis meis humorem libidinis; ut maneat in me virtus continentia et castitatis.

Gird me, O Lord, with the girdle of purity, and extinguish in me all evil desires, that the virtue of chastity may abide in me. –Catholic Vestment Prayer

Wiccans are not the only ones to wear cingulums.  Originally the word was used to describe the belt that Roman soldiers wore.

Then it was tied on by the Catholic Church to describe the rope that monks wear around their waists.  I called and emailed a variety of different monks at Belmont Abbey, a local monastery, and no one would ever respond to my requests for an interview.

I guess my soul just isn’t worth saving.  It’s a pity because I can really rock a Catholic school girl outfit!  According to several different Internet sources, the Catholic cingulum is supposed to remind the monks of their vow of chastity and aid them in remaining pure and celibate.  Not exactly how a cingulum is used Wicca.

“Learn of the spirit that goeth with burdens that have not honour, for ’tis the spirit that stoopeth the shoulders and not the weight. Armour is heavy, yet it is a proud burden and a man standeth upright in it. Limiting and constraining any of the senses serves to increase the concentration of another. Shutting the eyes aids the hearing. So the binding of the initiate’s hands increases the mental perception, while the scourge increaseth the inner vision. So the initiate goeth through it proudly, like a princess, knowing it but serves to increase her glory. But this can only be done by the aid of another intelligence and in a circle, to prevent the power thus generated being lost. Priests attempt to do the same with their scourgings and mortifications of the flesh. But lacking the aid of bonds and their attention being distracted by their scourging themselves and what little power they do produce being dissipated, as they do not usually work within a circle, it is little wonder that they oft fail. Monks and hermits do better, as they are apt to work in tiny cells and coves, which in some way act as circles. The Knights of the Temple, who used mutually to scourge each other in an octagon, did better still; but they apparently did not know the virtue of bonds and did evil, man to man. But perhaps some did know? What of the Church’s charge that they wore girdles or cords?” –Gardnerian Book of Shadows, Of the Ordeal of the Magical Art

Sometimes the cord is the length of the person’s measure, which is the person’s height.  This practice is more symbolic than practical, and it refers to the myth of the Fates who would measure out a person’s life span and then cut it for death.  When the cord is a person’s measure, it is usually used in some version of an initiation, and the initiate is usually tied up in some form.   Sometimes the cord is 9 feet in length, which serves the practical purpose of aiding a witch in being able to cast a circle in the traditional circumference.  Cingulums can also denote a group member’s status or rank, or recognize an achievement or rite of passage.

Cingulums can be a lot of fun.  It’s an interesting mind fuck to be tied up with your measure during ritualistic sex or binding magic.  If you don’t have a cingulum, or if you want to create a cingulum for you or somebody else for a particular purpose, here’s how:

Materials

Yarn of various colors

Scissors

Tape (optional)

Unsharpened pencil or stick

Extra set of hands

Procedure

First decide the number of strands and colors that you want in your cingulum and whether your cingulum will be 9 feet or the length of your measure.  For a 9-foot cingulum, cut 19 feet strands of yarn.  For a cingulum that is the length of your measure, cut your yarn so that it is your height doubled plus a few extra inches.  Tie one end of your yarn strands to something sturdy and stationary, like a chair, and tie the other ends to a pencil or stick.  You can also tape the ends instead of tying them.  Now slowly back away from the stationary point until your yarn strands are pulled taunt.  Twist the strands deosil (clockwise) until the strands are wound tight.  If it starts to kink, then it’s time for the next step.  Now have your extra set of hands hold your cord in the middle while you bring your end of the cord to the end tied to the stationary point.  While the middle is still being held by the extra set of hands, slide the ends off of the pencil and untie the ends from the stationary point.  Tie both sets of ends together.  Now have the extra set of hands let go of the cord.  Your cord should be twisted around itself like a piece of rope and ready to wear.

Have fun, and remember that bondage should be tight but not so tight that it cuts off circulation, and bondage should never be done on anyone under the legal age of consent.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

These folks caught the irony of the post:

Mystic Artisanshttps://www.facebook.com/mysticartisans

Passion And Soulhttp://passionandsoul.com/

Knotjokin Rope Floggershttp://www.knotjokin.etsy.com

Tonia Brown:  www.thebackseatwriter.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’m creamy for you!

 

Imbolc is a creamy holiday.  Oimelc, another name for this holiday, means “ewe’s milk,” so naturally (as long time readers will remember from last year’s post http://barbedpentacle.com/2012/01/candlemas-light-my-ass-up-baby-and-eat-whipped-cream-from-my-pussy/),  milk and milk products are a big part of the celebration.

Imbolc is also a snowy holiday in many areas.  An easy and absolutely divine recipe that’s fun to fix at this time of year is snow cream.

According to brief internet research, snow cream–in some form or another– is a fairly ancient and widespread dish in snowy countries.  There are accounts of pioneers making it, as well as colonists and folks in the “old country”.  Like most simple recipes, there’s a million variations on how to make it and everybody feels that their recipe is best.  My recipe is no different.

Ingredients:  A large bowl of “light” snow (if you live in a snowy area, then you know the difference) collected from a car hood, a patio table, or some other “clean surface”

1 can of sweetened condensed milk (if you open up the can and the substance is watery, then you didn’t read the can properly and you bought evaporated milk).  Sweetened condensed milk cuts out the tedious task of making a simple syrup and waiting for it to cool.

Vanilla extract or other flavoring

In a bowl, add a large amount of snow and a generous portion of sweetened condensed milk, stirring gently, until the contents take on the appearance and taste of homemade ice cream.  Then stir in a small portion (like a 1/4 to 1/2 a teaspoon) of flavoring.  Serve immediately!

This can be made at home or in ritual for cakes and ale.  It’s also a great treat to have when you’re snowed in and there’s not much else to do except make sweet love down by the fire.

Keep an eye on that sweetened condensed milk as it trickles thickly out of the can and see what it reminds you of!

These folks get creamy when it snows:

Mystic Artisans: https://www.facebook.com/mysticartisans

Passion And Soul: http://passionandsoul.com/

Knotjokin Rope Floggers: http://www.knotjokin.etsy.com

Tonia Brown www.thebackseatwriter.com

A Moon Lit Twist

Esbats can be a drag.  If you worship by yourself, these are often the observances that fall by the wayside first–especially if you’re from the school that observes both the new and full moon.  If you’re from the school that believes that esbats occur only when there’s a need, then I’m sure that you’ve found that regardless of the need, there rarely seems to be time.  With groups, esbats can easily get a coven stuck in a rut.  While a certain consistent pattern of worship is comforting to most people, spice is what makes the ritual stick with you once the circle has been opened.

Tonia Brown, a fellow smut sister, has come up with a clever solution: Esbat the Novel.  In her recent blog post (http://thebackseatwriter.blogspot.com/?zx=bc7c15fb073d58fa), she describes how her worship group periodically combats the esbat doldrums.  The ideas presented, “Esbat the Musical” to her “Esbat the Novel,” should hopefully whet your creative edge when helping to plan your next esbat, whether it will be a solitary affair or a group affair, family friendly or strictly X-rated.

If you fall into the camp of often being too busy to take the time to do a full esbat on your own (which is a shame because the meaning of an esbat is so fluid and loose that you really have no excuse), then consider reading Tonia’s creation that she has posted.  It’s perfect for Wiccans on the go that need to perform a silent esbat during their lunch hour, while they’re stuck in line, or while they’re suppose to be working but they’re really playing on their cell phones.

And by the way, “Tonia Time” will air Saturday at 9 PM EST (just like it always does) on TMV Cafe: http://www.tmvcafe.com/.

These folks adore “lovely lady lumps”:

Mystic Artisans: https://www.facebook.com/mysticartisans

Passion And Soul: http://passionandsoul.com/

Knotjokin Rope Floggers: http://www.knotjokin.etsy.com

Tonia Brown www.thebackseatwriter.com