Maîtresse Nuit & slave [m} by Lucina Nathanael ©2022
After the exertions of pony training in six inches thigh boots heels whilst constrained in a rigid corset. After the torment occasioned by his lust tested again and again against the confines of a chastity device by the alluring presence of my beautiful slave girl [euphresia]. After the bitter sweet delight of humiliation, our consenting captive is going to taste the savagery and chthonic power of the Goddess through a ritualised gang bang. My acolytes Aquilina and [euphrasia] are joining me for this cathartic bacchanalia.
You can listen to the podcast on my Youtube channel from 17:00 GMT today, Thursday 16th June 2022.
In the womb of the crimson room, the consenting captive has been locked in a long cage. He floats within the layers and accumulation of belts of a heavy leather bondage, a tightly adjusted leather hood. His male ego continues to dissolve in this ominous cocoon.
Aquilina, the amazonian nude latex Woman, was the last to disappear after securing the lock of the cage. [euphrasia] had been dismissed earlier. The sing song of the little brass bell and staccato of her heels gradually faded as she was engulfed by the long dark corridor.
Aquilina closed the oak door of the red room which turned into a giant sepulchral womb behind her.
Somewhere in the garnet immensity you perceive my presence, sometimes betrayed by the muffled sound of my heels before the silence falls again as I recline on the “chaise longue”.
You contemplate the volutes of aromatic smoke floating in the penumbra, lost in the magic of the ephemeral wisps emanating from the tripod bronze brasero set to the right of the cage where you lie.
Despite it’s vastness, the Crimson Room, holds you in its depths barely lit by the horizontal lines of tea candles delineating the mirror on the far left corner, the mantle piece to your right and the embers glowing in the fireplace.
You feel the various layers of leather enveloping your body: the implacable whalebone corset, the soft and firm body bag which has been secured by a series of six belts, and the heavy chains which spiral your cocoon enhancing the impossibility of movement.
Your hooded head is held in place by more chains hooked to the bars of the cage and to little D rings: One at the height of both your earlobes, one on both your temples and one at the crown of your head.
The belt that grips your hips presses against the chastity device forbidding erections which nonetheless hurls themselves upon the metallic restraints with each new wave of arousal set by the electric plug inserted in your anus which teases the soft gem of pleasure that your prostate has become.
As time go by, the various patterns and intensities of the infernal machine transform your male linear constructs into a more sinuous and subtle web of sensations. The ensuing pleasure becomes akin to schools of silver fishes scattered by the directional currents.
You become curve, receptacle, vessel as the repeated waves crash against the old patriarchal retrains that have been your lifetime bondage together with the old injunctions that a freeman, a citizen of the Republic, an important man such as yourself, such a powerful man, would not be held in the passive role: Boys don’t cry and men don’t get fucked!
Now you must endure not only the physical denial of direct ejaculation, but you also sink into the swampy waters of oceanic, orgasmic sensations.
The memory of the hot shame of lust you succumbed too earlier when you licked from the floor the colourful crumbs of macaroons I had stabbed with my heels comes back to you and consumes you in the flames of ecstatic, prurient degradation.
Gone are the front, the mask, the attire of respectability of the Privileged, White Male.
Here, in this sacred crypt, you dissolve in your leather swaddles.
There is no turning back from this descent into the Underworld.
You cannot unknown what you’ve experienced so far, the Initiation is well underway and you will not come back from this journey intact.
You have been yearning to be returned to the Matrix, and I am the Erotic Midwife, La Sage-Femme, the Creatrix who will deliver a new you on the other side of you.
You look into my eyes through the bars. In the viscous cardinal umbra, my features are obscured but the obsidian pupils gleam like two magnets and draw you toward me. You hear as from a great distance, the clangs of locks unbolted releasing the tension of your chains, the rattle of the door.
My acolytes and I deliver our captive to the his new underworld and prepare him for the ritual. In the immense room, the erotic presence of the Feminine in her dark, chaotic, creative, powerful guises is ubiquitous. The male ego is ceremonially stripped away with each layer of removed bondage until he is as vulnerable as an infant and ready for the sacrifice.
You are being pulled and turned-on your left side by four invisible hands which then shaped you in foetal position and finally extracted feet first out of your prison.
During all this manoeuvre, you fastened your gaze into mine, whilst the quatuor of hands nimbly, unlocked, unzipped, peeled away, unfurled and exposed your body until you lie flat on the leather of the cocoon.
The effluvia of Frankincense and Benjoin caresses your seemingly nascent skin slightly moist after the prolonged mummification.
I stand above you: one foot planted on each side of your face: the nylons have disappeared, so did the burgundy pattens stilettos; You feel the heels encased in leather and follow with your eyes the thigh high boots which seem to vanish into darkness until I step over your face and back : just at the crown of your head.
You are turned again, this time on your front. The texture of the hemp sacrificial cloth collides with your tender skin, irritating each portion of your body in contact with it.
You can not see the tableau of which you are the altar, the sacrifice, but you sense the ominous charge of the ritual.
The solemn voice of a horn’s lament rises. responded to by a choir of wood instruments, soon joined by cords.
It fills the space, seeping in the fabric of each piece of furniture, in the drapes and in leather implements: the poignant beauty of The Maurische Traumermusik, infiltrates your skin, flowing with your blood, the notes twine around every synapse: the music besieges your core pounding on the erected castle of your ego.
You lie in a cross at the centre of a sigil painted in Indian ink.
My companions have taken their position on either side of you: together, we form the three points of an equilateral triangle: three black silhouettes towering above you in leather corset and knickers, torsos sheathed in diaphanous black chiffon, booted to the middle of the thighs.
We each hold in our hands gloved above the elbows, a long, thick pillar candle of pale honey hue. The three flames revealing intermittently our faces concealed by black leather masks and long black organza veils.
The last note of the requiem fades into the precious smoke and the Invocation to the Goddess begins, each word, a chiselled gem, an offering.
When the last word has been swallowed by the garnet Tenebrae, rose and jasmine water its sprinkled and burning sage traces your form as, shocked by the sensations you reintegrate your body.
A ritualised gang bang is a very mysterious, powerful, strange and moving experience for all concerned. D and s are tapping into the most visceral expression of the life force. Libido, the primordial energy doesn’t abide by any rules: it is neither polite nor politically correct. Often transgressive it is incandescent, galloping horses of fire and lava. During the sacrifice, we will take turn to invade and possess my slave who turns into a total wanton, a being of pleasure who bows to the ascendency of the Feminine.
I command you to kneel in Nadu and then to lift up your brow.
You feel heat radiating from our bodies.
“Come closer to me” I lift the front of my gossamer shroud to reveal the length of my legs and disclose the silver monumental cock held very tight to my crotch by an intricate rope shibari.
I pull your head towards its gland gleaming with a stretched condom. I insert the voluminous member between your parted lips, slowly invading your mouth.
You struggle to extend your jaws as my cock inches towards the back of your throat before I pull it out, giving you just enough time to recover from the reflex gag… And I penetrate you again, this time holding with my free hand the back of skull in an inescapable position as I move gradually into your throat.
Again and again, I violate your mouth as you lick, swallow the majestic phallus spurred on by the commands of our three voices chanting all the names of your objectification.
Now comes the turn of Mistress Aquilina and Euphrasia whose members you must worship as you did mine.
Again and again in a delirium you suck and swallow our Female virilities as we violate your mouth.
Tears, snot, pre-cum, saliva… You are an eager mess as you murmur your thanks in between the repeated assaults.
My acolytes now help you to your feet and escort to you to a sling.
Four of the eight chains, hooked to two suspension bars hold the sling. The remaining four are be linked to the cuffs restraining both your ankles and wrists.
You hang exposed, suspended, floating, hungry, begging to be taken, defiled, revealed, exhibited.
my hand is warm and slips effortlessly exploring your emptiness. My fingers fold slowly into a fist stretching gently the fragile walls and I slip further.
I am reaching your core, possessing your essence as well as your mind.
I withdraw, only to start anew and deeper, impaling you on my latex gloved arm, pulling with onyx fingers shining with grease and lubricant, secrets of longing as I investigate the chasm, dive in the abyss that has swallowed you from inside.
Pumping thus, I reach the total chaos inhabited by the tantalising Goddess who demands that her slut - you - acknowledges her power and supremacy.
Soon my companions join me and we violate in turn your nether mouth.
Debased, opened, fucked repeatedly, the Feminine swims into your blood as we reach further, invade all your orifices. Your body explodes with repeated tectonic waves of pleasure that shake and submerge you. Orgasms, follow each other, seismic, terrible, encompassing.
Your consciousness fragmented in millions particles each bursting in infinitesimal sparkles in the garnet liquid light as you shiver and sob: finally annihilated and delivered to yourself:
Whole
Whore
Mine
•••••
to be continued