London Dominatrix, Maitresse Nuit leads a new slave through the gates of a temple dedicated to Woman: DER FEMDOM in Zurich.
“Illuminating darkness “by Lucina Nathanael ©2018 Nuit d’Or
The longest night of the year holds in their cold hands the promises of mystery. Gusts of wind on the parking lot of this modern industrial island prompted you to rush in the 1960’s low-rise building.
Composed despite the excitement of suspense created by the month and a half build up since you first introduction email, you proceed to the second floor and ring the fated bell.
Clad in black leather and silk, I usher you in the reception area and after a perfunctory welcome, I buckle the padded leather blindfold mask and lead you through the threshold of the Goddess’s temple.
“I completely trust you, Mistress”
The corridor we follow is long. The slow rhythmic tapping of my heels bouncing on the walls is the measure for the underworld time, and the pumping of your heartbeat will fluctuate and fall back repeatedly with it.
In the darkness, your senses begin to become distinct from each other. Scent dominates at first: leather and the fragrant dryness of sun-soaked pine needles merging with frankincense notes of my perfume. Temperature: the warmth of your winter clothes no longer welcome inside, contrasts with the coolness of the clinic room which glaring witness repeatedly hits your skin as you peel away each layer until you stand completely naked in front of me. Your skin awoke, the waves of warmth become more pronounced as I come closer to you, brush past, hold your hands and guide you to the Gynecological chair. (I call it “La Chaise de l’Espace”, an elegant piece of engineering for which I have a total fetish.)
Strapped tight to the wide seat, the cold contact of the leatherette soon melts away and your attention is pricked by the metallic restraints locked around your wrists as well as the grain of the heavy polythene stirrups. Sounds mix in with the stimulations of the proceedings: some background electronic music, the precise shutting of the locks, water being poured in a soft plastic container, the buzzing of the chair elevating and tilting you back, increasing thus the vulnerable position in which you find yourself. My voice.
Now comes the mysterious experience of being a vessel - the assured inspection of one’s sphincter is a recondite path for the average heterosexual male - This is followed by the invasion of water just below skin temperature filling you persistently and dissolving any remaining pretence of ego. Breathing becomes all important and concentration all-consuming as you narrow the focus of sensations, riding waves of cramps, following my voice until I finally release you from your restraints and lead you out of the white room through a new Threshold. I leave you safely in a spacious bathroom with the instructions to have a shower in order to finish the cleansing process and wait for my return blindfolded.
Waiting for my return you investigate the silence of the room disturbed by some unidentifiable sounds.
Heels finally chop the lustrous silence. I lead you again by the hands, the change of space is palpable as if the deep blood colour of the room plays with your body’s sensors.
You lie down as commanded and a lament which could be Baroque rises. The celestial soprano voice fills the Temple and waves of liquid music seep inside you. The Lacrimosa last notes evaporate and you are allowed to stand up. As you bow your head to receive the collar, you finally are able to contemplate your Mistress. My eyes, glitter like dark pools behind the veil of the Goddess holding your attention.
“Beginnings” by Lucina Nathanael ©2018 Nuit d’Or