Slave [¥], my consenting captive is led to the last trial of this two days metaphorical descent in the Underworld: The flagellation. This episode concludes the transcendental experience of “Submission in times of confinement”.

You can listen to the podcast on my Youtube channel from 17:00 GMT today, Thursday 30th June 2022.

Blindfolded, our consenting captive, flanked by Mistress Aquilina and Mistress Euphrasia, journeys through the long hall of shame in a procession. Our cortege advances slowly towards the seventh gate. Slave [¥] discovers a new universe of sensations created by the “penitent” sandals equipped with spike soles he is wearing.

slave [¥] waiting for his ordeal - London Dominatrix Maîtresse Nuit

The corridor is barely lit with thick pillar candles planted in tall prickets made of rough cast iron spaced every two meters on each side of its walls.

The flames seem to lick the black walls with quiet undulating amber tongues; the only movement in the ominous stillness.

You stand at attention: the steel points of the penitent sandals dig into the soles of your feet delineating a new internal geography of discomfort as you assess the distance you will have to walk to the oak door of the initiation chamber.

I have hooked the long chain leash to two points. One to the ring of your Prince Albert which comes out of the chastity device through a special slot. The second through a D ring sealed in the posture collar holding your neck and chin high.

I wait in the middle of the burnished hall: a hieratic silhouette of leather: catsuit, thigh high boots, gloves, mask, my hair framing my face like a helmet. A magnet, an incarnation of the Great Goddess.

A light thug of the leash prompt you to start your march.

The long black hair of your wig softly caresses your bare shoulders, tickle your ams until it touches the biceps and extremity of the black latex gloves . It reveals the space between the back of the laced boned collar and the trim of the waspie strangling your waist. It teases your sewn nipples when a strand catches the red thread loosely linking them.

If wearing six inches heels has been at times a challenge, the pronged surface of the soles proves to be a real torture! A fit prologue to the ceremony.

Slowly, our procession advances to the quiet rhythm of my heels hitting the hard floor.

You try to remember the lessons of deportment and hold the muscles of your abdomen and back tight and up in an attempt to be as light on your feet as possible.

There is no escaping the blunt spikes which burrow under the tender skin at the root of your toes, hit the metatarsal bones, mark the plantar region, dig in your heels.

You discover a treasure of uncharted sensations as you learn new declinations of suffering.

The minute pins tear your stockings and trace new ladders with each step, sending pale ribbons shooting along your legs, keeping a record of the trial.

When you finally arrive at the door, they have designed an original map of our caravan whilst your face wears the serpentine traces of eyeliner dissolved by tears.

You kneel in Nadu at the door. I drape your leash, then the rope of supplicants around your neck and shoulders and disappear in the Inner Sanctum.

A soft padding down the hall …. candles are snuffed.

Darkness.

The two sentinels hooded and entirely clad in black latex silently mount guard at your side. They each hold a five branches silver candelabrum.

Time is suspended

The ceremony begins with the ritual of the cross of acceptance which affirms the consenting captive vows of devotion towards the Feminine principle and his Mistress. This is a necessary preparation to the caning. Intimacy and connection between slave and Mistress transform the increasing intensity of the pain.

The door opens from the inside and the vast crimson room materialises amongst the wisps of incense.

Mistress Aquilina opens the march, you follow on your fours and Mistress Euphrasia closes the door. Your small procession advances to the sofa where I am seated.

You recognise the thigh high boots, the dagger heels. My gloved hands rest on my knees.

In the position of a cross, you lie on the carpet, your forehead three inches away from the point of my toes.

My acolytes trace around you a circle of smoke with sage and sprinkle rose water on your body. The droplets, when they reach your bottom, prickle your skin.

A bell tears the silence. You kneel in front of me and my gaze, once again dive deep in your oceanic eyes, dissolving thoughts, petrifying time.

I pull slightly the thread linking your nipples and you stand at attention, feeling every prong supporting your weight.

From the corner of your eyes you register the four canes displayed on the mantel of the fireplace between the sack cloth laid on the spanking bench to your left, the two bullwhips on the rack to your right.

A lovely tableau is revealed in the psyche mirror flanked by the candelabrum: Firmly held by a series of belts, you lie on the bench, the hemp cloth tightly enveloping your waist and hips. Anchored

Behind you, I stand hieratic: the Triple Goddess, the Eternal Feminine, Creatrix, Matrix, Destructix.

Drifting on the waves of the Prelude to Parsifal, you begin a new descent in the darkness as I wake up your hind. The volley of leather thuds are quickly absorbed as you slowly blush. The air around us changes texture, it seems to thin with every blow.

Single tail whip on the back of slave [¥]

One after the other, the canes whistle and cut a lattice pattern of swollen white ridges across your buttocks which first turn to red, then purple. Each new cane slotting its strikes in the imprints of the previous ones, deepening the dents until the tender skin gives and blood rises to the surface.

The space of the Crimson room changes with the intense focus of our work for this is what is happening: we are very tangibly one now: I, you, the canes, the air, the music, the room.

Our atoms are twined in this experience where the boundaries of perception have disappeared, and we both feel the strikes as the blows hurled and the impact of them, acidic, burning, breathtaking, intolerable and reaching an absurd, ecstatic pleasure.

From red to white hot and then black.

You rest, spent, taken by a formidable rush of endorphins.

I watch reclining on the sofa whilst I catch my breath.

After the caning, slave [¥] is taken to the flagellation post where he will receive the last sacrament and his liberation with the single tail whip which concludes his descent into the Underworld: an Ego death journey of transformation.

From the bench, you have been dragged to the flagellation post by Ms Aquillina and Ms Euphrasia. They have cuffed your wrists to a long metallic bar attached to cables held overhead.

I have tied your legs together from toes to hips with hemp rope and have removed the spiked sandals.

Your arms are lifted above your head by the mechanical suspension.

You breathe deeply, slowly, floating yet conscious that this last trial will demand all your strength, devotion and concentration. It will demand of me the utmost focus, precision and feeling.

I bring the braided handle to your lips to kiss as I watch you eyes turn a darker shade of steel.

With tongues of fire, the lashes drum and wrap your thighs, your arse and penetrate to the deepest of your core as the fortress of your self disintegrates, liberating the gold particules of your devotion.

Prostrate at my feet you fly on the wings of the Goddess and kiss the points of my boots.

The space slowly opens and the Crimson room glows.

The end

Thank you to

[¥], my muse and my wonderful devotees for all the inspiration and

joy in the practice of this unlikely art.

The amazing women, Mistresses, Dominatrixes who have and

continue to inspire me.

my mentor Mistress Fiore

Anne O Nomis, Natasha Gornik,

Mistress Aquilina, Mistress Euphrasia, True Severity, Miss Meyers,

Lady Lola, Morrigan Hel, Herrin Ariadne, Cassandra van Cane,

Domina Sylvia, Lady Nastasia, Lady Marlon, Lady Mephista, Lady Skotia,

Lady Roxane, Princess Zuleika, Mistress Aranea

&

Catherine Robbe-Grillet & Beverly Charpentier

More on BDSM Rituals:

after the flagellation with a single tail whip, slave[¥] recovers

If you have enjoyed this post and are intrigued by the history of the archetype of the Dominatrix, I recommend reading the wonderful book written by art historian and archeologist Anne O Nomis “The history and arts of the Dominatrix” https://www.goodreads.com/en/book/show/19101104-the-history-arts-of-the-dominatrix

“Women’s Rites” by Jeanne de Berg (which was the Dominatrix name of Catherine Robbe-Grillet for a long time) is an account of some poignant and beautiful ceremonies created by this talented French artist and writer.

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/6611256-women-s-rites

“The Ceremony” is a wonderful film part documentary by Lina Mannheimer which is inspired by “Women’s Rites”. Catherine Robbe-Grillet and her Partner and slave Beverly Charpentier (who is herself a Dominatrix) recreate a SM ceremony. This documentary sheds light into the beauty of our art, the numerous dimensions that BDSM opens. and the strength of the bonds between a Mistress and her slaves. There are some poignant interviews of her devotees.

https://www.imdb.com/title/tt3589290/

I recommend the book by Dossie Easton and Janet W. Hardy “Radical Ecstasy” if you are interested in the transcendental potential of SM play.

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/503940.Radical_Ecstasy

&

Edge Play & Radical Ecstasy: https://www.maitressenuit.com/edge-play

Should you be a true devotee: you may contact me for a Pro-Domme session after having made sure we are suited:

• Session with Maîtresse Nuit:

https://www.maitressenuit.com/in-person-sessions

This post may have intrigued you and you may wish to explore your interest in kink and BDSM in transformational life coaching or mentoring with me. I am an EMCC-certified coach & mentor.

You may also have questions and issues revolving around your practice as a Mistress, Master or as a sub, I’ll be happy to help and think of solutions with you.

• Coaching & Mentoring with Maîtresse Nuit explained:

Submission in times of confinement 7# | FINAL ORDEAL: FLAGELLATION | Canes & single tail whip