Maîtresse Nuit watches her slave preparing for a flagellation ordeal.
In the penumbra illuminated by the undulating light of the candles, you stand with your arms above your head. The black leather cuffs are hooked to a single snap shackle located in the grid at the centre of the chamber. Your body is stretched to a pleasing arched tautness accentuated by the patent red stilettos which have thrown your hips back. Your rear framed by the black suspenders and the stockings protrudes like a pristine alabaster altar of flesh carefully arranged for sacrifice. I now chain the loop of rope tying your balls to a stretcher bar attached to ankles cuffs exacerbating the curvature of your lower back.
A gong vibrates in an extended metallic expiration overlapped by distant bells and followed by a crystalline voice which washes over the charcoal walls and the heavy crimson drapes, gently bouncing on the large mirrors repeating your solitary image ad infinitum.
Drifting out of your sensory revery for an instant you have lifted your blindfolded face, as if to contemplate, in the leather darkness pressing around your eyes, the tableau reflected before you. You imagine the creature you have become: an androgynous succubus, waist cinched in a black patent underbust corset, nipples gnawed by the jaws of vicious nipple clamps, cock and balls neatly packaged and pulled by the weight of the stretcher bar.
The door opens interrupting the very high frequency of a pulse drilling micro virtual pricks all over your body.
The soothing song of strings caresses your skin as I remove the blindfold.
On the high bench, you discover, displayed on the crimson damask, the implements: an elegant switch of dark bamboo, two silicone encased canes, a thick dragon and a single tail; a marvel of craftsmanship.
No more music… The metronome announces the tempo of your torment as I take the first cane, the thin smoked dragon making her hiss and cut a most bittersweet kiss.
creature by Nuit d’Or