A Return to my Temple.

A Journey Through Yoni Massage & Pleasure Mapping in Ubud with Seville Lives aka Azar

There are moments in a woman’s life when she touches a deeper layer of herself—beyond roles, beyond stories, beyond even words.
This was one of those moments.

It happened in a quiet room in Ubud, Bali, wrapped in incense smoke and the sound of distant chatter. I had come with no agenda—only a whisper from within: “It’s time.”
Time to come home.
To listen.
To meet myself again, through the sacred gateway of my body.

And so I laid down on Seville’s floor, trusting her hands, her presence, her deep devotion to this work.
What unfolded was not just a yoni massage.
It was a homecoming.
It was Pleasure Mapping—and not in the way the world sells pleasure. But in the truest sense: permission to feel, to explore, to reclaim.

The Journey Inward

Seville began slowly. With breath. With presence.
She asked for consent every step of the way, honouring my boundaries, my body, and my energy.

It felt less like a session and more like a ceremony.
My body trembled—not from fear, but from recognition.
Here, in this sacred space, I was safe to feel what had long been buried.
Grief. Rage. Tenderness. Desire.

She mapped the inner landscape of my yoni with reverence, touch by touch—not to awaken pleasure, but to awaken awareness.
Where was I numb?
Where was there tension, memory, silence?
And where was the fire—the soft, quiet thrum of aliveness that had been waiting for my return?

What surprised me most was the gentleness.
There was no rush to climax.
No goal.
Just sensation.
Just presence.
Just the sweet remembering of a body that had spent years surviving.

What Pleasure Mapping Really Is

Pleasure mapping is not about performance. It’s not about turning yourself on.
It’s about listening.
It’s about learning the language of your body without shame, without agenda.

It’s about meeting yourself in the places that were never touched with love, and finally offering them what they deserve—compassion, curiosity, and care.

In Seville’s hands, I cried.
I laughed.
I moaned.
I breathed.
I felt me—not just in fragments, but in fullness.

And when the session ended, I didn’t feel like something had been added to me.
I felt like something had been remembered.

The Afterglow

For days afterward, I moved differently.
Softer. Slower. More rooted in my hips, in my heart.

The world felt richer. My children’s voices sweeter.
My boundaries clearer. My body more sacred.

I had reclaimed another layer of myself—not through force, but through feminine devotion.
And I realised: This is the work.
Not fixing. Not striving.
But feeling.
Fully.

If you’ve been feeling the call, the ache, the whisper that says “there’s more”—
more to your pleasure, your healing, your wholeness—
then let this be your sign.

Your yoni remembers.
Your body is waiting.

And you, beloved, are worthy of returning home to yourself.

Thank you, Seville, sister.
For your presence.
Your permission.
Your priestess heart.