In this episode, our consenting captive enters the arena of feminisation. In a ritual of gender transgression and sissification, he is transformed into a modern interpretation of the Kurgarrû, the male priests of the Goddess Inanna / Ishtar who, like their Roman counterparts, the Galli worshiping Cybele, sacrificed and offered their masculinity to the Goddess .
You can listen to the podcast on my Youtube channel from 17:00 GMT today, Thursday 23rd June 2022. Alternatively, you can listen to this episode on my Audio / Video page.
Reflections in the mirror: the consenting captive looks with fascination at the creature who has become him. he marvels at the revelation of his female form which has surfaced from the depths of himself and ponders at the Mystery.
You gaze at the creature who seats at a dressing table bathed in soft pink, abricot light emanating from the perimeter of the false ceiling and the skirting board.
In the black boudoir, her face of alabaster, seems to absorb the luminescence of the small bulbs delineating the triptych of mirrors echoing her reflection at various angles.
Her pale complexion is enhanced by the lustrous long dark hair,
The eyes blackened with kohl, elongated with eyeliner and fringed by velvet lashes, shine like two midnight sapphires.
The creature stares back at you as you retrace the stages of her genesis.
Philip Glass’s “ Opening “ seeps into the room and abolishes density.
Fluid images of magic and intimacy that punctuated the making of an improbable, libertine Cinderella, little big sister of Siouxie Sioux and Nina Hagen float and dance in the room.
Flash back: The morning after the ritual gang bang, the consenting captive is lead to a ceremonial cleansing: anointed under a golden shower, he is then scrubbed and rinsed, administered an enema to complete purification. Finally his urethra is stretched before he is locked back into aa chastity cage.
You woke up chained to a minimal bed in a tiny cell where you had been left to recover after the Ritual Gang Bang. Freed by the obscene liturgy, you felt deliciously abandoned and inconsequential, utterly owned. The abyss inside you erased by the act of being possessed repeatedly and debased to the essential slut
Nearly gracefully you followed me on your fours to the morning ablutions, at one with each moment, you revealed in the texture of the floor under your palms and feet whilst you adjusted your gait to my rhythm along the corridors that led to the shower room where Mistress Aquilina was waiting for us.
After making you lie down on the shower cubicle, we attached your wrists and ankles to four rubber cuffs sealed in the white porcelain and whilst I stood above your head, Mistress Aquilina positioned herself standing above your locked cock.
We both unzipped our latex catsuits and two warm jets graced your body.
Contorted, you pulled your head and arched your hips as high as you could to be closer to the golden streams. The torment of your lust propelling you, with each effort further away from climax and deeper into the twisted route of denial.
Then came the warm shower, the lathering and scrubbing, the towelling. Soon you were dry, collared again and following our double scatato of heels to the adjacent Clinic room. The space tilted as the gynaecological chair lifted you close to the bright white medical light.
A faint scent of chamomile …. The cannula,
Once again you dissolved in the aqueous luminescence as the liquid flooded your guts until you were ready to cleanse.
Helpless, strapped back in the chair, under the incandescent light, you watched mesmerised the choreography of steel and nude latex gleaming with turquoise flashes, as we, hooded sirens in surgical masks, busied ourselves around you.
We probed and stretched your urethra repeatedly as you followed hypnotised, the length and varying girths of the medical sounds sliding inexorably along the narrow sheath. The antiseptic gel helping gravity, burned slightly.
Once the last sound removed, I locked back the chastity device and the chair was lowered as its back pushed you gently in an upright position.
Only then were you ready for transformation, a further step into your new role as devotee to the Goddess, her kurgarrû.
In the intimacy of the boudoir, our consenting captive experiences the encounter of his masculine and feminine energies through a process of sissification. He has to negotiate and ultimately reconcile the contrasts and clashes of these two forces which when they integrate, magnify and exalt Eros. Gradually, the energies merge and our captive, in an ecstatic erotic trance is led out to the Inner Sanctum.
The last notes of Glass’s piano vaporised in the matt darkness of the boudoir.
The pink hues of the ambient ribbons of light underlining the skirting boards and ceiling melting the contours of the furniture, warming the luminescence of your skin.
A mounting electronic drumming fills the space, its pulsations reverberating through your body, spurring your muscles to twitch in rhythm, your blood to warm and you stood in front of your reflection, goaded by the relentlessness of the binary thrusting tunes.
The mirrors endlessly throw back at you the tall creature in 6 inches stilettos. The black latex leotard, gloves, stockings, suspenders and the vinyl waspie impossibly bitting your waist enhance the white flesh of your buttocks and your face.
Aroused by her lascivious movements, you are reminded of the obsolescence of you caged cock. The device is like a black hole drawing to its bottomless centre all of you. It exacerbates the desire to fuck anything and everything.
The incapacity to sate your mounting lust in any shape of form swells and your engorged, incarcerated flesh bashes herself against the polished steel prison. Leaving you to bow your head to authority.
You recall the velvet caresses of my long coat against your thigh as I transformed you and created the face of the kurgarrû, applying foundation, hiding your eyebrows with putty, designing her features with the contouring brush.
The pine resin and incense of my perfume mingled with the powders, the blushes and lipstick.
From time to time my knee would knock the chastity device, sending a wave of captive pleasure that increased longing.
Your hips sway and thrust at the memory, just barely at first…
Joining the electronic beat of the sensual lullaby, you whirl in a lewd choreography, repeated ad infinitum by the succubus in the minors, each reflection teasing her doubles in an exulting trance.
I open the door of the black boudoir to lead you to the last Gate and pause as I watch with a predatory smile, my creation haloed in pink, abandoning herself to the infernal rhythms, prologue Bacchanalia to her final ordeal …
……
to be continued
![Slave [Y] first sissification in Berlin at Avalon](https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/524c0931e4b0dfdf24ad1751/f99e3af7-5f61-4680-8287-4e1c0e4bb3d8/BDSM_chronicles_TRANSFORMATION_FEMINISATION.jpg)
More on gender exploration:
If you have enjoyed this post and are intrigued by the history of the archetype of the Dominatrix, I recommend reading the excellent book written by art historian and archaeologist Anne O Nomis “The history and arts of the Dominatrix” https://www.goodreads.com/en/book/show/19101104-the-history-arts-of-the-dominatrix
This article written by Will Roesco on Genre Transgression in the ancient world looks at the Priests of the Goddess mainly, the Galli of the Cybele & Attis cults off ancient Rome, the Kurgarrûs, acolytes of Inanna / Ishtar in Summer and the Hijra of modern Pakistan and India.
https://www.willsworld.org/priests.html
You will find an account of the experience of gender exploration in these two beautiful posts written by my slave [¥].
WHAT LIES BENEATH: THE ART OF FEMINISATION, GENDER SUBVERTION & SISSIFICATION | 1
WHAT LIES BENEATH: THE ART OF FEMINISATION, GENDER SUBVERTION & KEYHOLDING | 2
And, of course, you can consult the page on Transformation