As I shoved his face into my toilet and began to secure his head in place with plastic wrap he gagged a little and began to resist. I grabbed a tuft of his sandy hair and pushed him back into position. His naked knees scrambled on the shiny white tiles, hands struggling against leather restraints behind his back. With no way to balance himself he was easy to push around. He was forced to comply.
“I thought you said I could do whatever I liked to you slave? Are you taking back your promises so soon?”
“No Mistress, I’ll try harder Mistress,”
“Yes you will… but soon you won’t exactly have much choice in the matter,” I smiled to myself as a rush of sadistic pleasure coursed through my body. I love this game.
I tugged on the collar around his neck, slipping cold metal chains through the loops with an echoing clatter and then wrapping them around the toilet. I soon had him chained to the cistern, padlocked in place, face squarely over the toilet bowl. I slipped the key into my cleavage for safe keeping.
“Now you will really have to impress me to be let free slave, and I am going to test your resolve,” I told him in a calm, slightly amused tone.
“Yes Mistress,” he replied, his voice betraying his nervousness.
I shoved his face further into the toilet and resumed plastic-wrapping his head in place. I could feel the power rush coming on, slowing everything down… making me feel so alive… the throbbing in my veins became connected to the beat of all Life. The sound of plastic being unrolled, became amplified, squeaking and straining as I stretched it up over the back of his head and down around the toilet bowl… passing it through underneath and back up around again… round and round until he was unable to move his head at all.
I stood back, wiped the hint of moisture from my brow and admired my handy work, catching a glimpse of satisfaction on my face in the bathroom mirror. I turned and stared at myself as I stood over my little silk worm snug in his perverted cocoon.
My womanly shape was highlighted by an elegant sheer slip while black fake fur draped my shoulders highlighting my excessive bosom. The soft curves of my breasts swept down to a tightly corseted waist and widened again considerably to frame voluptuous hips and thighs. I reached up and twisted the pearls around my neck fascinated by the way my wild blonde curls made me look so deceptively innocent.
I just adored the juxtaposition of such lady-like femininity against the flushed with raw power and cruelty on my face. I was no mere girl, posing with a whip and looking pretty to tantalize men’s gaze. My reflection showed a mature kind of attractiveness that can only come from those who have explored themselves… from those that carry an inner knowingness and calm confidence. My beauty doesn’t come from picture-perfect features, it comes from being a fully fledged woman in her power.
My attention returned to my slave. A familiar visage. Yet another powerful corporate man, naked and bent over in the perfect position to leave him feeling exposed and degraded. His bottom poked out in easy swiping distance and his s0-called manhood, his cock and balls, dangled nice and vulnerable for me to reach should I so choose. The way he was fastened there left no way for him to protect them from me… and he was rock hard. He was loving this even as he experience a myriad of challenging emotions.
This is what they don’t understand, I thought to myself. Those sweet eyed, well-meaning, yoga folk and their conscious living. They are all meditation and green juice but they do not understand that in order to really be whole, we have to own all of ourselves, dark twisted bits as well as the love and light.
Owning our shadow and creating a conscious relationship with it, is part of the spiritual path. The dark side is in us… always there… snarling in the depths… hidden in the corners of our hearts and minds… We are All Things, us mad humans… We are consciousness in an animal body capable of every kind of horror and wonder under the sun…
The more we deny it by trying to control it or suppress it, the more is pops out in other areas of our lives… and the more it controls us, taking the steering wheel from deep within our unconscious and creating havoc in unexpected areas of our lives. The dark-side butterfly effect.
Owning this aspect of me is what makes me whole. BDSM is theatre of the soul where we live out all our archetypes… all of them get voice… With consent and awareness this kind of lust, cruelty and power play can lead us Home to ourselves. Being filthy is the holiest thing I know how to do.
Without warning I stabbed air holes through the plastic with a skewer, sharp metal piercing jagged fissures right near his vulnerable face… him unable to move out of the way. He could surrender and trust or remain in fear.
He jumped and strained but could not escape… he hadn’t let go yet… He was still holding onto control… to the illusion that he had an impact on the outcome of our play. The blood pumping through his jugular veins pulsed at a rapid rate… His breath was sharp and shallow in his chest fogging up the plastic-wrap… Adrenalin.
I let him brew for a while, anticipating what would happen next while I prepared the next part of our little game. No doubt he could hear me opening draws, scraping metal implements against the bench top…
As I got out the ginger root I had been brewing in the fridge and began carving it into a suitable shape, I could feel the animal in my body mirroring my slave’s rush. The smell of his fear mingled with the fiery pungency of ginger juice set off the cat-like sadist in me. A primal urge within just wanted to toy with him… degrade and humiliate him… peeling away the masks of his ego and his resistance until the core of him was exposed… This lawyer, used to being in control… stuck in his head justifying his existence through logic and rhetoric… denying and suppressing his emotions… his feelings… his instincts… yes, this lawyer was to be broken down.
My role was to bring him face to face with all of that, dragging him squirming and screaming to stare his vulnerability in the eye… To shatter the illusion of order and control… Initiate him into his very fear of helplessness, and ultimately, into facing his own inevitable Death… where he could finally surrender to the peace of the void beyond. Freedom. Home.
But he is not on this journey alone. I may be acting as his guide but I am on a journey of my own. There is pleasure seeing him stripped of his dignity. There is pleasure in cruelty and in feeling powerful… In playing God. When engaged with through conscious exchange of power like this, it can lead me Home too.
The game is this. I strip his ego down until he submits and surrenders remembering who he really is under all the constructs while at the same time I build my own ego up until it is a fiery supernova, exploding and setting me free to be my core, authentic self. We are both heading to the same destination… him through the front door and me through the back.
I began speaking to him in a soothing, hypnotic, lullaby tone while I traced one finger down his spine… down the small of his back… slipping between his buttocks… and circling the ring of his anus. My voice and sensual touch a contradiction to my words…
“Now darling slave, I am going to make you suffer for my pleasure. There is no escape from this so you may as well accept your fate. I enjoy seeing you squirm, hearing you beg and knowing you are doing this in service to Me. There is nowhere to go… no where to be… there is only Me. I am your entire world… your entire Universe… until I choose to let you go. Nothing else exists but your submission to Me and whatever I choose to inflict upon you. Do you understand?”
He swallowed, sweat breaking out and glistening on the little blonde hairs on the back of his neck even as he leaned into the pleasure of my touch.
I continued the hum of soothing sadistic lyrics, all the while massaging and opening his anal sphincters in preparation for my next little game. I took my sweet time, allowing his hunger to be penetrated to grow. I could feel myself entering ‘the zone’ in connection to him. My words dripping like poisonous honey from my tongue, curling like incense smoke through the air… slipping into his ears and wrapping around his mind… The wildness of the forest… both Mother and Destroyer entering his body… The more he unfolded and floated, the more we became in synch… My breath matching his…
The world disappeared and time became an irrelevant concept. There was only us in this moment.
He began moaning in need, leaning into my finger in an attempt to get me to enter him.
“You like that don’t you little slave? I think you want something from me don’t you?”
No words, just moaning…
“Oh you don’t want anything from me? I guess this is all you will get then,” I teased.
I pressed against his hole with pleasurable little pulses and waited while he worked through his confusion about how he was supposed to act.
“Yes Mistress, I do, but I am your slave to do with as You will.”
“I like it when you beg like the horny little slut you are, slave”. I could feel his hope rising… his anticipation of being filled and fucked warring with his embarrassment at being made to speak his desires out loud.
“Is there something you would like from me slave?” I asked again.
He leaned into me in an attempt to get out of saying the words, trying to show me what he wanted with his body rather than suffering the humiliation of begging.
I stopped all stimulation and stepped back, leaving him bereft of my touch.
“I will only ask you one more time, and if I do not hear what I want to hear then you will miss our entirely. Now, is there something you want from me slave?”
“Yes Mistress, please fuck me Mistress”.
“Oh you want me to fuck you do you?,” I mocked, as I leaned back in and began to seduce his arse hole again.
“Well then you had better beg for it my pretty boy. I do so enjoy seeing a powerful man on his hands and knees, face in the toilet, begging to be sodomised. Please do entertain me before I get bored and wander off.”
“Please fuck me Mistress, please fuck me up the arse,” he said, embarrassment and resistance making his voice faint.
“Louder please. And tell me what a little whore you are. How you will do anything to please me.”
“I am your little whore, Mistress! Please fuck me up the arse! I will do anything you say Mistress, please just fuck me!” he said with more conviction this time.
“Now we are getting somewhere, but I am not convinced yet. I also want warn you that should I grant you this wish, there will be a price. There is always a price. Are you willing to pay it?”
“Yes Mistress!” he was starting to sound more urgent, “Yes I will do anything you say, I am your little slut, your play thing. Please degrade me, use me, do as you please to me! I am yours Mistress. Please fuck me!”
With a satisfied smirk I slipped the head of the newly carved ginger butt plug into the opening of his hole and began easing it into him. The effects of ginger take a while to kick in so at first he just writhed in pleasure, opening himself to me.
“Take a deep breath, then breathe all the way out and push down as though you are trying to push the toy out,” I instructed. As he obeyed, I felt his sphincters relax and I slipped the rest of the ginger in. The wide base held it firmly in place so it didn’t disappear altogether. I generously thrust it in and out stimulating his prostate and coating every sensitive area with fresh ginger juice. He bucked with pleasure… to start with…
Then the burning began…
He became confused as his pleasure turned to intensity.
“Mistress! It burns! What is it Mistress?”
“What is it? It is what I want it to be,” I replied amused.
He began to writhe with a different kind of urgency now as he struggled to process this new experience. I strapped the butt plug in place with rope and cleverly positioned knots, stood back, folded my arms and watched. I was purring like the pussy who got the cream. I do so love to watch a man struggle until he realises the full extent of his helplessness.
The burning built steadily in strength and with each passing minute his begging for me to remove the ginger increased. He wriggled and strained against his restraints to no avail.
“Oh does that burn does it slave?” I asked in mock innocence, “I did tell you there would be a price didn’t I? You thought it was all about your pleasure didn’t you slave. Did you think because you paid a tribute for this session, I was here to get you off? Actually, you are here to entertain Me.”
The more I mocked the harder his cock became, even as he suffered. More importantly, his normal mind-state had shifted. He was no longer dominated by the logical, ‘talking self’ part of his consciousness. He was drifting into a different place within.
“Yes Mistress, I am Yours to do with as you please,” he squeaked.
I reached down and pinched his nipple, hard, knowing that he would clench in sudden pain, squeezing more ginger juice out and setting off another level of burning. I followed this sensation with a mixture of pleasurable cock sensations and volley of hard slaps against his buttocks. Pleasure, pain, pause….
He grunted, his bottom blossomed with red hand prints and an endorphin rush kicked in moments later. He was getting close now, I could feel it… close to the edge… he just needed a little shove and he would drop, deep, down into subspace and fly… and I would be right there with him, feeding off his reactions and riding high with my own twisted Top space.
“Oh poor slave, you are burning up. Would you like me to cool you down?”
I didn’t wait for an answer. I straddled his head, one leg over each side, my thighs pressing against his ears.
“Tell me again how you are just a thing to be used for my entertainment slave. Tell me again how you are nothing but a fuck toy. An object. Owned body, mind and soul.
“Yes Mistress he cried out, inhibitions abandoned now, “I am everything you say. I am Yours entirely!”
With that, I reached down, slipped my knickers to one side and spread my pussy lips wide open. I felt the tingles of rushing energy through my body as the urge to urinate built until I could hold it not longer. I began to relieve myself on his head… As I let go of my very full bladder, another, more difficult to define, dam broke within me and I snarled with the pleasure of it. I was all powerful Goddess, marking My territory. Piss splattered on the plastic wrap, forming yellow pools of urine… and then showered steadily down through the carefully positioned air holes… pungent streams of piss trickling down his face, drenching him thoroughly… Wayward rivulets entering the corners of his mouth which he licked at greedily, fully in his animal self now…
That was the trigger we both needed. I felt his whole energy shift. He just dropped in utter surrender with me riding his back all the way Home. A moment of living awareness… of being all that is left when the social scripts and ego illusions are torn away… Just being pure consciousness flying together in ecstasy.
This was not where we engaged in sexual climax to end the scene… This was just the launching pad… Just the beginning of our play…
About the Author: Artemisia de Vine is a Sydney-based, professional Domme and switch who specialises in BDSM with awareness. She is passionate about tuning into the unique erotic wiring of each individual she plays with to create imaginative scenes relevent to their personal journey. She loves to explore pleasure, the Mysteries of Existence and just what fabulous madness is possible when we peak under the covers of civilised behaviour and nudge our boundaries. She accesses all the aspects of human nature normally forbidden to us in everyday life, like humiliation, shame, fear, cruelty and power but does so from a place of compassion, consciousness and intension for the holistic well-being of all involved. She is at heart, a kinky shadow worker exploring the ways in which owning our dark side can make us whole.
If the link between BDSM and shadow work intrigues you, you may be interested in reading this blog on Conscious Kink and Humiliation Play.