Transition starts with Sensory deprivation & disorientation. Expert use of sounds muddles the sense of space of the consenting captive, increasing his dependence on his mysterious jailor. How the use of specific frequencies and pitch trigger various physiological responses akin to the use of electrics further distracting him.
Third Gate: TRANSITION - SHEDDING LAYERS
CLEANSING - ENEMA & SCRUBBING
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A low-frequency electronic signal, similar to a submarine sonar, interrupts the silence. Its vibrations reverberating on your body seem to be peeling the skin away from the bones.
It is especially tangible on your skull: the face and scalp are taunt and separated from the bones by a nanoscopic cushion of tingling space which enhances each feature.
The high pitched throb charts your eyeballs, your lips and tongue, your sinuses and the helix of your ears before diving into the canal to join the pulsations of your heart.
The space around you dissolves, abolished by the drone.
The air in the room has been disturbed, you feel a pilar of warmth materialising in front of you. Your atoms recompose themselves at the touch of hands in tight rubber gloves.
They fix a blindfold and pull the leash they’ve just hooked to your collar slightly upward prompting you to stand.
The vibration is slower, it continuous beat resounding in your solar plexus.
At the tug of the leash, you start walking behind the sinuous column of heat that pads before you announcing the obstacles along the slopping path as you descend a narrow gullet.
The floor under your bare feet is dusty and gritty and the walls are made of uneven stones that your hands brush past when you move them slightly from your torso to give you extra guidance.
The sound is now a continuous hum above your head, iT seems to unfold as you advance.
After a sharp left, the corridor widens and opens to a bigger space, vaulted it seems, you pass through a frame and another vaulted room. Another corridor sloping down steeper, its floor covered with an industrial rubber tiling.
Finally, you are made to stop whilst your guide opens a door and lets you into a room.
With the return of sight, the consenting captive discovers the beautiful futuristic medical room and meets with Maîtresse’s assistant who will administer an enema. This procedure is a very effective method of control which plays on the submissive fear of disgracing himself, on the one hand, his wish to follow his Mistress's directions by attempting to ride the waves of cramps before he can be let out to the safety of the bathroom to relieve and empty himself. This very intimate activity compels the submissive to a visceral surrender that can only happen through a strong connection and very clear communication between Dominant and submissive.
The low pitched hum becomes more distinct, there must be mirrors in this space.
Despite her deftness, the presence who brought you here makes clattering noises as she rolls trolleys and handles trays.
She removes the blindfold. The clinic is bathed in a turquoise dimmed luminescence raising from the skirting boards along the white tiles walls.
The room slants backwards gradually as the chair tilts with a purr. The creature encased in nude latex from head to her ninja ankle boots and gloved hands is inserting a thin cannula in your exposed anus.
As the body temperature chamomille infusion fills your abdomen, you contemplate the upside-down tableau suffused in an aquatic haze.
Waves of small cramps erased by steady breathing follow each other as the liquid invades your guts.
The sonar has started again, a tighter vibration.
The cramps are getting stronger as the creature removes the vices that were keeping your fingers apart, the brushed steels stoppers that closed the fetters around your wrists and ankles, unbuckles the three safety belts, lowers and tilts back the gynaecological space chair and leaves the room signalling the door to the bathroom.
After a while, the girl takes you to a shower cubicle where you are cuffed and spread eagle to the tilling. She sprays you with a powerful alternating cold and warm jet and scrubs you until your skin glows.
After the delicate ordeal of the enema and the surprise of a thorough cleansing at the hands of another, comes the delight of dressing up. A new attire awaits that will help the consenting captive to sink further into his new androgynous avatar. How gorgeous leather high heels thigh high boots and corset re-model a handsome male into a far more fetching yet awkward creature.
A leather corset awaits on a steel stool next to a pair of crotch thighs high heels boots.
She signals you to seat and slips the boots on.
The lizard skin leather lining of the black kid boots imprisons your feet, kissing away in a metallic embrace on your ankles, calves and thighs as the zip climbs the inside of each leg.
She fixes the collar and the leash before pulling you up.
You struggle to find balance as your body tries to make sense of the new circumstances occasioned by the heels throwing your buttocks, and your chest in opposite directions.
Your knees refuse to stay taut and yet the creature insists on holding lightly two fingers on each side of the patellas.
She helps you now into a high corset with shoulder straps. The weight of the leather accoutrement tightening in a formidable embrace feels reassuring, it seems to help find the eluding balance…
Gingerly, you totter behind the latex chaperone to the fading sonar sound as the aquamarine light is dimmed and you are ushered into a dark corridor.
In front of an old oak door, you are made to kneel in Nadu. A blindfold is slipped on your eyes, You feel the nude latex Woman next to you, waiting, her stillness ominous as she knocks three times on the door, opens and leads you on your fours in a vast space.
To be continued
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