Feb 232014
 

If you have not already read part 1, I suggest you start there.  See part 1 here… 

Mistress high heelsI turned and began walking through the shopping centre, each high-heeled step a deliberate movement of seduction.  He fumbled with the phallic vegetable and bottle of lube I had insisted he purchase.  I could hear his nervous breath as he attempted to hide the objects in his hands while we walked through the busy centre.

He followed me, uncertain of what I planned to do after the earlier humiliation foreplay in the fruit and vegetable section of the supermarket.

I took my time, stopping to look at the various window displays, taking note of my victim’s flushed cheeks in the reflection of the glass.  I enjoyed toying with him.  No doubt his mind was busily trying to work out what I was going to make him do with that impossibly big phallic vegetable.

His skin was bright with embarrassment.  The more he visualised just what I was going to make him do next, the more he felt as though every passing shopper also knew exactly what was about to happen to him.  Exposed… embarrassed… aroused…  desperately wanting to get away from the laser beams of their eyes yet feeling completely turned on by it.

I bent over in my tight, shapely skirt and adjusted my shoe slightly.  I watched with amusement as I saw him shift his jeans uncomfortably… blood flowing unbidden to his crotch making his pants grow tight and stiff.

“No where to hide little mouse… “ I purred.

Next I asked him to purchase me a large drink while he was still holding on the embarrassing objects and struggling with the fact he was semi erect.  Not  hard enough for anyone else to notice, but hard enough to make him very self-conscious.

He ordered the drink, avoiding making eye contact with the cashier, no doubt imagining she knew exactly what was happening in his dirty little mind. She didn’t of course, but that didn’t stop his face from turning several shades more crimson.

I seductively licked my lips and began sucking through my straw, leaving lashings of red lipstick kisses all over it.  I just watched him through heavy lids as I slurped and sucked every last drop down.  Eye contact can speak volumes.  He squirmed…

When I was done I had him dispose of the cup and I walked slowly and deliberately towards the stairs to the second floor where the cinemas reside.  We walked together in tense, excited silence.  Every sense alert, pulsing and alive.

I could feel his relief as we entered the darkened foyer of the cinemas.  It was easier to not be noticed here.  Not so much light and the thick, red carpet muffled the clickety clack of my ridiculously high heels.

unisex-toiletI sauntered over to the unisex toilet and waited until there was no one around.

“Quickly now, in we go!” I said eyeing the bathroom door.

He hesitated but my face expression told him I would tolerate no disobedience so he slipped inside.  It was a large cubicle.  Big enough for what I had planned…

“Hand me the vegetable,” I said calmly.  He passed it to me.  It was a bright green vegetable I didn’t know the name of.  It was covered in wart-like bumps and was as long as my forearm… and certainly a lot thicker…

“Mistress, I… I don’t know if I…”  he began stammering.

I just looked amused and raised one eyebrow.  “You don’t know if you can what, slave?”

He eyed the vegetable and gulped.

Without breaking eye contact, I opened the bottle of lube and deliberately poured it all over the vegetable like chocolate sauce on an ice cream sunday.    Clear, slippery gel wound its tendrils down the vegetable in thick ribbons.

“But… I’m sorry Mistress, but I really don’t think I can take that!” he stammered.

“Is that so, slave?” I purred, again amused.

I reached over and grabbed a handful of hair at the scruff of his neck yanking his head back, opening his mouth and pulling him off-balance.

“I suspect you will do as your told don’t you?”  I whispered so close to his ear that my breath tickled his lobe.

“Besides, I told you there would be… consequences... if you chose a smaller vegetable than I did, didn’t I, slave?”.

His eyes widened but he didn’t answer.

“I can’t hear you” I purred… “Didn’t I warn you slave?”

“Y…Yes Mistress” he stammered.

marsian phallus 2I thrust the tip of the marsian looking phallus in his mouth and watched him strain to take it in… lube spilling down his chin.  He mumbled and moaned but it was muffled by the vegetable unceremoniously stuffed in his orifice.

“Now that I have your full attention, slave, I am going to give you some instructions.  I want to you to listen very carefully and obey to the letter, do you understand?”  He nodded, eyes wide and mouth still full.  I thrust the vegetable in a little further and watched impassively as he struggled to take it.

“In a moment I am going to let you go.  When I do I want you to unzip your jeans and pull them down to your ankles.  I then want you bend over the toilet, resting your hands on the flush tank and present your bottom to me.  You need to be very quiet so we are not overheard. There could be people right outside the door.  Do you understand?

“Yes mistress” he mumbled through the vegetable gag.

I released the scruff of his neck and removed the marsian phallus vegetable from his mouth.  He immediately unzipped his jeans and pulled them down, exposing his very hard cock standing in full salute to me.

I smiled to myself.  Here was a complete stranger I had never met before doing my every bidding.  I took a moment to savor that thrill.  He had contacted me through my professional dominatrix website and we had negotiated a session.  Even though I am a professional with an excellent reputation, it still takes guts to trust and obey someone you do not know.  There is an art to seducing submission out of someone and I love every second of it.

He turned around and assumed the position as instructed.  He no doubt heard the snap of my latex gloves.

“I like being fully dressed when you are all vulnerable and exposed slave”  I whispered throatily.   “Being bent over and humiliated suits you…”

I slapped his perky arse cheek and slithered a lubed finger down his crack, making him jump.

inside toilet cubicle“Shshshsh my wicked boy, we both know you are going to do as you are told and open up for me”.  I reassured him in a lullaby voice of honey seduction. “We both know you like to be fucked and I am going to invade your most secret places”.

I pushed a finger into his arse.  He gasped with the shock of it but soon relaxed into a moan of pleasure.

His hole was tight and we both knew he would never be able to take the vegetable phallus but I was enjoying playing with his head.  With my other hand, I rolled the vegetable between his butt cheeks and down through his thighs to tickle his balls.  I began gently thrusting my finger in and out, massaging his prostate with every stroke.

We could hear the muffled sound of people in the cinema foyer, going about their business.

He began moaning quietly and rocking back and forth, obviously enjoying being penetrated.

“I think you like it don’t you slave?  Tell me how much you like being fucked up the arse slave?  I want to hear you beg for more.”

“Yes Mistress!  I love being your slave.  I’ll do anything you say.  Please fuck me Mistress”.

“You’re a little slut aren’t you slave? Tell me how much of a horny slut you are.”

“I’m your horny little slut, Mistress. I’m your little slut.  Please fuck me Mistress!”.

At this point he was so aroused he would have done anything at all and I knew it.  I thrust a few more times and then stopped abruptly, leaving him empty and desperate for more.

“Now slave, I am going to give you a choice.  You can either take this delightfully large marsian phallus all the way up your arse or you can open your mouth and let me use it as a toilet.  I did drink an awful lot you see…  I want you to drink every last drop of my golden nectar and thank me for it.  Which will it be?”

He hesitated.  I drummed my fingers impatiently.  “Hmmm?”

We both knew that he was revolted by the idea of drinking my piss but that the phallus was impossible for his tight, untrained arse to take.  It wasn’t really a choice.  He would have to become my living toilet.

I held the marsian phallus up for him to assess.  “Which is it to be?”

“I.. I will take the golden shower, Mistress” he stammered.

“Good boy”.  I smiled.  Now lie down on the ground and open your mouth.  I want to hear you say that you are my toilet.

He lay down obediently and half opened his mouth nervously.  He didn’t say anything.  I could feel how humiliating it was for him to say those words out loud.  His cock was harder than ever but still he struggled.

“I want to hear you say it slave” I repeated impatiently.

“I, I am your toilet Mistress.  I am yours to piss on.  You may piss in my mouth and I will drink every last drop.  I am yours to do with as you please”.

“Yes, yes your are.” I purred.

Pouring oil or golden liquid.I slowly hitched my skirt up to reveal my black satin g-string.  I slipped my fingers under the elastic and flicked it against my skin.  I stepped across him so one of my high-heeled shoes was on either side of his head, giving him an exquisite view up my skirt.

I slowly slipped my panties off, sliding them down my plump, stocking-clad legs.  I slipped them down all the way to my ankles so they stretch taut across his nose and mouth filling his nostrils with the scent of my pussy, hesitated a moment, then flicked them off altogether.

“Open your mouth little slave.  Open wider than that.  For if you do not drink every drop, my golden shower will spill all over your shirt and you do not have a change of clothes”.

I let that sink in.

Then I stretched luxuriously and bent down into a squat, positioning my pussy only inches from his face.  So close, yet so far away…

He opened very wide, not wanting to spill a drop.

At first it was just a trickle… a little splish, splash… I controlled the stream in short bursts letting it gush into his open mouth and roll over his tongue.  I heard him struggle not to spit it out… struggle to keep his mouth open…

His cock was so hard I could have used it as a crow bar.  He may be revolted, degraded and humiliated but he was enjoying this as much as I was.

“Taste it slave.  I want you to taste my golden vintage like a wine.  Savor it. Swish it around your mouth, there’s a good little toilet”.

I squirted another warm gush into his open mouth and watched him struggle to obey.  It was a little too much for him however as some spilled out the corners of his mouth and dribbled down his chin and the front of his chest.

I held the phallus up for him to see clearly.  “Drink it ALL up or you will have to take this after all” I threatened with an amused voice. “It will be very entertaining for me”.

He doubled his efforts to comply with my wishes and I began to gush in earnest making it very difficult for him to swallow in time without my piss going all over him.

Just at that point there was a sudden banging on the door.  A male voice, obviously an employee of the cinema, said, “Excuse me but you need to come out of there.  You were both seen entering the toilet and you’ve been in there far too long.  You need to come out immediately!”

puddle“Just a moment please” I said sweetly while continuing to piss all over my slave.  The surprise knock had made me jump, spraying my golden shower all down the front of my slave’s shirt.  He was soaked.  I may as well finish the job I thought sadistically.  I sprayed one final gush all over his face and clothes.

My slave was in a panic.  He had been getting off on the idea of maybe getting caught but to actually be caught!  Well that was the ultimate humiliation!

I calmly stuffed my panties in my handbag and disposed of the vegetable and lube bottle in the bin.

I then folded my arms amused as my slave tried desperately to clean himself up. He wiped his face with toilet paper as best he could but there really wasn’t anything for it but to come out covered in my golden nectar.  He looked terrified!

There was more banging on the door from the manager.  “I really must insist that you come out of there immediately” he said in a commanding loud voice.  This of course attracted attention of passers-by.  When we did open the door there was a small crowd to greet us, all staring at us.

I stepped out perfectly neat and tidy in my tight skirt and seductive heels… a small wicked smile on my face…

My slave followed out awkwardly behind me covered in piss and unable to do a thing about it.  I walked slowly and deliberately across the hall with all eyes burning into us.  I can’t imagine what they were speculating.  Could they smell the urine or did they think it was water on his shirt?

car parkI know my slave had never squirmed so much in painful, arousing embarrassment in his life!  He was both horrified and secretly loving it.  I did not hurry a single step.

Down the esculator and back in to the main shopping centre, we walked the slow parade of shame.  Soaked in my scent he was forced to walk at a sedate pace through the flouro lit halls.  The walk seemed to last forever.   A smile curled my lips every step of the way… enjoying every awkward moment of humiliation… every excrutiating moment of exquisite torture.

After what seemed like an eternity, we reached the car park.

I turned, noticed his straining erection had returned… and simply winked at him… then walked off to my car without another word.

I just left him standing there in the delicious torment of degradation and arousal.  I left him burning with need for release.  Ah, a Mistress can be so cruel.

******

He wrote to me later to tell me that was one of the most extraordinary, unusual and arousing experiences he had ever had.  He has a thoroughly wicked and hot story to climax to over and over for years to come.

******

This story is based on a real session in my early days as a professional dominatrix and humiliatrix.  All sessions are negotiated and consented to and my slave had a safe word he could have used to stop any activities at any time.  I had no intention of actually getting caught and involving innocent by-standers but it just happened that way.

I have written a blog here about how humiliation can actually be a deeply loving and conscious way to approach kink.  Check it out here…

For those interested in sessions with me, I am currently based in Sydney, Australia.  See my website for further details.

This story is copyright and may not be reproduced in any way without express, written permission from me, Artemisia de Vine.

Nov 212013
 

Artemisia de Vine antique queen final kinklogoIt has been four years since I became a full-time sexuality professional… a whore.  Wow what an incredible journey it has been!  I have grown so much as a person and as a professional to become the Goddess of Conscious Kink and the Erotic Arts I am today.  I have worked under many names and in many different roles and learned a wide variety of erotic arts from feathers to whips…  following the erotic cookie crumbs on a journey of sweat, flesh, cum and self discovery.

This morning I let my mind drift back in time to a pivotal moment a couple of years before I decided to enter the adult industry.  I now see that it was my initiation into whoredom.  The memory touched me so much I wept.  I want to share it with you.  I want to honor the people who may not realise they played a part in making me who I am.

I’ve always been a sexually curious adventurer.  My friends would say, “Can’t you talk about anything else besides sex?”  I’d be quite baffled at that.  It was my passion and fascination.  It was my thing.  I’ve also always been drawn to look into the “whys” and “hows” of the human psyche.  It became a natural thing for me to want to explore sexuality with awareness.   However it has been a long journey and I started with practically no knowledge and a deep, destructive sense of shame due to my strict upbringing.

My adventures in self discovery led me to try all sorts of outrageous things… BDSM, swinging, group sex, ritual sex, exhibitionism and more.  You name it, I tried it.  I lost count of how many lovers of all genders I’d had well and truly before I turned professional.  Through it all I remained a spiritual being who aimed to have integrity.  Oh I made mistakes aplenty, but my intention was to remain in integrity for my own well-being and for that of my play partners.

One day I flicked through the Melbourne Kink Festival program and saw that there was going to be a women-only night at the local gay sauna and sex-on-site venue.  I’d been there before on mixed nights and it was a beautiful set up.  Gorgeous pool with Grecian pillars and palms… Large spa… Sauna… and a variety of booths upstairs for sexy play time.  There was the porn room… A few group sex rooms… private booths… sex swings… glory hole boxes (where I met a man who was to become my partner for two years when he did such a good job licking my clit… but that’s another story).

The thought of this place filled with naked women exploring together certainly appealed to me.  I have a wide variety of friends and connections to lots of different social scenes.  That day I decided to invite a whole bunch of friends who identified as pagans to some degree or another.  While I do not identify as  pagan as such, there is overlap in my way of thinking and theirs and I have a great love of wild, irreverent, loving, earth-based spirituality folk.  I wondered what would happen if we mixed nudity, the relaxation of skinny dipping and the freedom to be sexual with a bunch of folk who enjoy ritual, spirituality and erotic exploration.

The night started as expected.  A few drinks, relaxing and gossiping in the spa… letting water relax the muscles… feeling it froth and bubble in interesting places…  We swam and romped on big floaty toys in the pool, laughed and let our hair down.

In ones and twos a few folk wandered off to explore the hidden, dark crevices upstairs.  I wasn’t really in that head space yet so decided to check out the sauna.

As I entered it was suddenly very dark.  It took a moment for my eyes to adjust but even then all I could see was clouds of steam and hints of shadowy figures. I guess it was designed to make sex anonymous because I couldn’t see who else was in there.  I was aware of several other figures, the smell of wet cedar, eucalyptus and the distinct aroma of naked female bodies.

A little more easily discernible was a flat concrete slab in the centre of the room with four columns reaching to the ceiling, one on each corner.  To the eyes of pagans this looks very much like an alter.  Without hesitation I plonked myself down right in the centre of it and stretched my legs luxuriously apart, resting one foot on each pillar.

I hadn’t really thought it through.  I wasn’t really aiming for any sexual encounter to be honest.  I just saw the “alter” and that was my natural reaction to it.  I sank down, breathing in the steam and looking up at the tiny blue pin pricks of star-like lights in the ceiling above me.

There was suddenly bright light and a rush of cold air as someone else entered… then another… People were chatting in ways that seemed to me to be breaking the spell of the place.  Ordinary talk had no place here, I thought.  Here is a chance to let go of the normal way of thinking and sink into something else… Something primal and instinctual.

After a while the atmosphere seemed to win over and the chatter stopped.  I could hear breathing and was aware of my own steamy inhales and exhales.  My mind alternated between thinking in every day thoughts and drifting into the erotic dreamscape.

Then out of the silence it began.   A voice began quietly chanting the names of the Goddess as she appears in different cultures across time and space.

“Isis, Astarte, Diana… Hecate,Demeter, Kali, Innana…”  

This is the way of pagans.  A way to enter into that different head space and draw on the archetypal woman across history.

Another voice joined hers… Then another…  Soon I could hear women’s voices chanting from every corner of the room and I was in a sound bath in the center.  I felt goosebumps as their words washed through me.

Gently, a hand touched my ankle, giving me the chance to pull away if I wanted to but I invited it in.  Another hand gently stroked my arm… my forehead… My mind resisted letting go at first but I chose to stay with the experience and let it unfold.

More chanting and humming… more hands stroking my thighs and belly… So sensual and giving in their touch…  No thoughtless grabbing to take from my flesh… No this was an honoring… Their touch energised and aroused me.

The chanting began to naturally build in volume as the women let go of their inhibitions and just went with it.  Naked, free, letting their self expression pour out their throats and through their hands.  Someone began rubbing my feet and other hands massaged my breasts, tickling my nipples…  I felt arms slip around me, holding me so I could let go…  and the large, soft breasts of a woman  I recognised rested against the top of my head… As the others chanted, this remarkable woman, this self-identified red witch, began to whisper in my ear.   Her breath was warm against my lobes…

She played with words pictures and poetry to create impressions… snippets of things long ago… of myth… of legend… of temples to the Goddess where sacred prostitutes were once honored… of times when Goddesses were revered… she whispered of incense… flesh… spirit… of embodied, empowered women… menstrual blood… lovers entwined… erotic  pleasure… dance… the visceral and the ethereal…  Cunt… Whore… Slut… Spirit… Heart… as words of empowerment not degradation…

All the while the hands all around me, too many to count, stroked me all over… Yes they had reached my pussy now.   I was aroused but did not want to cum. It was not the kind of arousal one gets from sexual fantasy.  It was not even genital focused, although there were pleasurable sensations there don’t get me wrong!  This was more like an erotically fuelled, full body, heart and soul experience.  It was awakening all aspects of me with little erotic, electric impulses.  I felt like the bars of a radiator newly turned on, blossoming fiery red heat.

I have no idea how long I lay there and received this spontaneous blessing from my sisters.  It was both a lifetime and but a moment.  We all sensed something significant was happening but I didn’t bother my intellectual mind by trying to work it out.  I just let go… sunk down… opened up… became the moment…

I became aware my mind was thinking all sorts of strange things because it was overloaded… Where I was, wasn’t mind-territory and my mind couldn’t make sense of it.   It started bubbling up all sorts of silly things.  I giggled… then laughed… a great big release inside me… Stopped thinking and just experienced.

At some point the moment ended.  Without anyone leading, the hands began to slip away and the voices began to lower and eventually silence.  I lay there a little longer not knowing what to make of it.  I suddenly felt a little awkward to be honest and didn’t know what to do next.

I don’t remember how I left that situation.  I do remember wandering into a dark room upstairs not long afterwards and having a steamy encounter on a sex swing with a woman I didn’t know.   Off I went on my adventures of sexual self discovery again, this time with my body fully blessed, supported and honored…  Connected to sexual women since the beginning of time…  Connected to the dance of life everywhere.

Looking back now I see that as my initiation.  At least, one of my initiations into the work I currently offer the world.

Even though I rarely offer vaginal penetrative sex anymore in my professional services, I still love the word whore.  To me it draws on all the domintrices and professional kinksters of all stripes as well as  sex workers, erotic body workers, tantrikas, temple dancers, strippers, courtesans, street walkers, spankees, surrogates and all the other sexuality professionals through time.  These women, transfolks and men are my whore ancestors.  Like others call on their blood-line ancestors in times of celebration or hardship, I draw on my whore family.

The beautiful spontaneous moment that happened in the sauna has left its mark deep in my flesh… in my cells… in my atoms…  Although my current professional offerings centre mostly around BDSM, and other forms of kink play as well as conscious sexuality and erotic bodywork,  I have worked as a private escort, brothel worker and much more in the past.   I have experienced first hand what it is like to be reviled… cast out… called the scum of the earth, treated as though I am no longer human and even driven out of town because of my occupation. Mostly by people who are not clients but who are being self righteously whorephobic and consider me a threat just for existing.

Sex workers are my friends and number highly in the ranks of my chosen family.  We are a tight knit group because the every-day prejudice we endure forges battle bonds that run deep.

We give so much.  We are counsellors, pleasure bringers, sex educators, compassionate, affectionate company, slutty playmates that give permission to be fully sexual in a world where there is still shame around such things.

Like all professions, there are a wide variety of people in the adult industry, with a wide variety of mind sets and skill sets.  Some suited to the work and others not so much.  What we all have in common is prejudice and persecution world-wide.  Even where sex work is legal we can still be driven out of our homes, lose our kids, lose our day jobs, be socially ostracised, become unemployable…  Those in places where it is not legal suffer being forced underground where they are more vulnerable to violence and afraid to seek police help in case they are jailed themselves…. For, you know, performing mutually consensual acts with other adults…

I don’t need to go into it too much.  You know just how socially unacceptable it still is to be a sex worker.  Just take a moment to imagine telling your friends, family, current work place etc that you are a sex worker… Feel for a moment what that would be like…

To stand up and be who I am despite all that takes a lot.  To forge my own unique style of kink and sexuality services is a tricky job.  It’s also a deeply rewarding personal calling that has enriched me in more ways than I can count.

The world does not often honor people like me… but these women did.  They honored me deeply.   They may never know how important it is for people like me who follow their natural calling into whoredom to be so deeply honored.  I just want to thank them.  I still do not know exactly who they all were but I thank them from the bottom of my heart and from deep inside my cunt.

********************

Artemisia de Vine is currently writing a book about her adventures called “Lessons from a Whore” and another on “Conscious Kink“.   If you would like to keep track of her writing, join her mailing list or subscribe to her blog on her Conscious Kink website or her more sensual site for those interested in the Conscious Erotic Arts.   

All material in this blog is copyright. Picture is of Artemisia by Shane Light from Liquid Light Studios.