The art consists in being able to decompress your joints under pressure. If you are able to do so you are allowed to ask for more pressure. Give me us much pressure as you like. Give me your strength. I turn your blow into my flow. No blow no flow. No enemy no balance. Pressure creates equilibrium. The open joints allow you to move freely. Free movement gives you space. Space gives you time. Time is the essence.

The evolutionary reward is that at a point where the joint should be closed, the joint is not closed! The absence of fear sets another chain of effects in motion. Jamal Tuschick

Sovereign Monstrosity

In collaboration with Christine Zarrath.

Ned smells Chanel scent of Coco Mademoiselle Intense and Ned steps behind her without touching her. She smells him, his tart masculinity makes her mouth water, she has to swallow. She drools. The saliva stains her cleavage. Ned cuts a thread with a finger and holds it out for her to lick. She obeys on a wave of excitement that lifts her up. Ned breathes into her neck. He whispers in her ear: "Good girl."

Still no touch between them.

"Your commands are charming; your way of giving them even more charming, you could make despotism endearing."

She shudders at the synchronicity; one minute she was thinking of de Laclos, now Ned is quoting him. He makes her give up her last resistance. He gives her time to assess the situation and get to the bottom of the phase. Ned knows something about controlled excess and erotic minimalism of movement. A breath of his breath triggers a tsunami of pleasure in Persephone.

Ned embraces her from behind. She carefully frees herself and turns to him. Persephone hugs him, in a rush of shyness, devotion and anticipation of the inevitable. Ned does not know his fate; Persephone is sure of that. He has no idea that she will not let him go unscathed. Ned lifts her up effortlessly. She feels his erection as he carries her to a table that, as if by chance, stands where the altar originally was. Persephone snuggles up to him. She trusts in Ned's precision, determination and devotion to the scenario she wants.

Her shyness is genuine. She is now a bride in the regalia of expecting an immaculate conception. Her eyes half-closed, refusing to make eye contact. Ned lets her gently slide onto the table on her stomach. Carefully he unzips her dress, pulling it off her body in one fluid movement. She knows, his gaze rests admiringly on her shapely bottom, narrow waist and delicate shoulders.

He quotes Colette Peignot: "Archangel or whore/.../All roles/are given to me."For the first time Ned speaks to Persephone with tenderness in his voice. My dear, do you know, that Colette Peignot gave herself the nom de guerre Laure. She refers to this name in a story so as to leave no doubt as to who "carefreely shits in a holy water font".

"The next day she climbed onto the altar to show her bottom to all the faithful... (Finally) a holy suppository takes care of the butt", Neds declaims majestically.

The timbre of his voice enchants Persephone. She hears how much Ned enjoys what he's doing. And she enjoys it so much that she has to suppress a giggle. Yes, she is ready for blasphemy, but not for mocking the person most important in a role play that promises to be perfect. She needs the whole man, although not his penis.

Persephone wonders if Ned wants to shock or to teach her. He claims control of the performance and acts as if he were lecturing his students.

"Peignot's prose reads like a commentary on 'Artaud's Heliogabalus or The Anarchist on the Throne'. The beacon and reckoning character of Peignot's writings fits like a glove with Artaud's views of the holy city as the scene of Olympic orgies in competition between libertines of all genders. For all the opulence of the production and his joy in bloody operettas, Artaud remains a clear observer of the historical panopticon. A father is never important, he says almost in the first sentence, especially since it could have been anyone who fathered the imperial title hero. The only thing that matters is the mother, as the earthly agent of an oriental sun goddess who disturbs the people on the Tiber with her Syrian lifestyle."

As Ned recites, his fingers search for Persephone's soft wetness, first carefully feeling, then in routine circular movements. She perceives how he feels how she gets hot. He follows the trail like any good hunting dog. That's his destiny. That is what God made him for.

He holds her, she can't move. Ned is clearly maneuvering on the terrain of an obsession. He signals Persephone with a word that's open to interpretation to stick her butt out towards him. She complies the request with own pleasure. She holds the posture for long, with her body seeing or rather sensing how great Ned's desire is.

From the comments column

Reader: "Ned looked hypnotized. I'm sure he hadn't expected you to offer him this image in such temporal detail. I thought of a homage scene that I saw on a frieze in Pompeii - a homage to Dionysus. The Roman adaptations of the Greek cult of the arable god created social tensions. A somewhat classless community of excess united under the seal of Bacchus caused a scandal in 186 BC in the area of religio prava - inverted religion. The authorities imposed draconian sanctions. The ban on the Bacchanalian cult was accompanied by a cross-gender criminal court. I was surprised that Ned didn't say a word about it. He loves such conflations of a simple sexual practice with a spiritual high mass."

In Georges Bataille's oeuvre Ned discovered the term "sovereign monstrosity". This is how the author characterizes a man who stormed into a church near Nantes around 1660 to kill his opponent. For contemporaries, the desecration of the church was more serious than the bloody act.

Ned wants to write "sovereign monstrosity" on Persephones behind. Maybe she would love the idea but Ned doesn't inform her. Finally she turns around. With the hardness of his charisma, Ned forces eye contact and penetrates her with two fingers at the same time, while his other hand strokes her hair.

"One hand was occupied with violence, the other with love," Persephone continues the master class lectures. She is a grateful novice in an exciting play.

She comes far too quickly. Which is no reason for Ned to stop. His academic text memory and athletic physique serves him well, and while Persephone disintegrates more and more, he felt the build-up of his own arousal in deep frustration. After Persephone's eleventh orgasm, he withdraws his hands from her. She knows she will get for a nasty stomach ache due to the hardness of her contractions. Ned gently places the dress over her, turned around and left the scene without any word as if it were exactly in the script. His departure gives him a bit of a sorcerer. Persephone's informant was not exaggerating: Ned deserves to be called a small master of maifestation. Flooded with happiness hormones, Persephone wants him all to herself. She promises herself to bind Ned to her by any means necessary. Just the thought of this exclusivity offers beautiful views. At the same time, Persephone feels like a Wiccan follower who had willfully desecrated an altar. Has she opened the door to another dimension and has to expect the appearance of a demon she is no ever match? As if by chance, her eyes meet a grimacing goblin in the lower corner of the stained glass window. She quickly put her dress on. She leaves her underwear behind as proof of her fornication. She wants to keep the tension going. She's not Madame de Tourvel, she is Madame Merteuil. And her game has only just begun.

What would Ned's next move be?