Imagine being taken like my slave [¥] to a solitary XVIII century country house nested amongst the rolling hills of the South West of France. The "ermitage' is the set for a new cycle of the "Invitation au voyage". During a week, [¥] will train to become an Acolyte of the Goddess. For now, he is seating at the back of a car driven by my multi talented and very kinky chauffeur [sergueï]...
The car seems to have left the motorway for a sinuous country road. Ensconced on the back seat, blindfolded, you lean on the motion, becoming it. The sounds distilled through the noise cancelling headphones facilitating the mellow movement and assimilation of your body and mind to the trajectory of the vehicle.
Your senses are both receptive and constricted, highlighting a feeling of anticipation at the thought of this week dedicated to your training as an acolyte. As the car races towards the hermitage, you ponder on the first part of your initiation, the images and sensations unfolding randomly in snippets interspaced with your recent arrival in my territory; Time becomes non linear.
I am seated on the throne you recognise instantly. I observe this new supplicant from across the room. You kneel with your knees apart, your feet together, your forehead and your arms outstretched on the floor with the palms up.
You were picked up at the airport by my young chauffeur sergueï who helped you with your luggage and lead to a cerulean blue sedan from the early 90’s - sergeï, you discover, is man of many talents, driving being one of them, a precious and trusted devotee.
Once installed on the back seat, sergueï fixed the blindfold and adjusted the headset without a word.
The first needle pricks twice the flesh of your arse, blood rushes just under the surface of your skin which blushes….
You felt the engine vibrate and the fluid manoeuvre to back away from the parking slot. Soon after, the smooth flow indicated that the car was speeding on the highway.
My cock triggers a flash of raw desire, you are spiraling in a maelstrom of passion.
Gravel signals you are reaching your destination. The darkness of the blindfold amplifies your trepidation.
You feel your head held in the vice of my boots: I am towering above you.
Sergueï opens the door of the vehicle and you step out, vacillating slightly on the uneven ground.
A few stairs, a landing and in the cooler air of a vast hall, a new actor to this invisible scene you are both spectator and elected subject greets you with a collar and leash.
It seems that the hands of your new warden are female, softer yet determined. You follow the nearly imperceptible sounds of her steps to a flight of stairs spiralling downwards and a narrow corridor. A door opens, you are ushered in your cell.
Your custodian silently removes the blindfold and the thin collar. She disappears after shutting the door soundlessly. Surprisingly, she has left you free to move about the chamber and explore your new abode.
The room is perfectly square, its tall blond stone walls and vaulted ceiling are illuminated by a small window cut high into the opposing wall to the door, and barred with cast iron. It is monastic: a cot under the window, a small walnut desk and a chair with a disproportionately high back.
An arched niche has been carved in the thick wall to the left of the bed above the long ledge which serves as its foundation.
On the wall of the recess hangs an alabaster carving of the Goddess and her retenue: acolytes, galli, hetairas and servants of her cult. She is standing in a chariot led by two lions.
A five branch silver chandelier supporting black tappers, a crystal carafe filled with water, two glasses: a tumbler and a chalice, a posy of violets are displayed on the deep shelve,
Tall cast iron candelabra supporting each three pilar candles stand on the four corners of the room.
Steel rings are sealed in a triangular formation on the opposite wall to the ledge. more rings are sealed to the stone floor a well as on the bed.
Circumscribing the space at shoulder height, sigils have been carved. some are barely distinguishable, others seem very recent.
You recognise some symbols: a moon inscribed in a circle, the three spirals of Hecate, a stylised rose in a star, the distinctive Camargue cross formed by a cross atop a heart balanced on an anchor…
Others like the triangles barred or the vertical pointed barred arrow, the two circles linked by a vertical line, the circle cut by a vertical line, the circle supporting a small cross remain mysterious.
Cool air seeps through the latched window letting green scents of freshly cut dewed saturated grass merge with the room’s odor; a redolence of beeswax, dry stone and a hint of resin.
The atmosphere of the place is at once tranquil and ominous, vast.
A drumming of stiletto heels bouncing in the corridor approaches. You kneel with your forehead touching the smooth sand stone and your palms up, your heart thumping with anticipation… The door opens.
“bonjour [¥] I am glad to see you are ready to commence this new phase of your initiation”
Study in May , painting by Yannis Tsarouchis https://tsarouchis.gr/en/works-by-yannis-tsarouchis/paintings/