There are many ways we can play BDSM games. I favour playing deeply, with complete attention, with a deference to the Sacred that we create when we are absorbed and we go beyond ourselves. For a moment, we are suspended, at one.
In this episode, I've attempted to transform a "chastity device" into a sacred implement, and a "ruined orgasm" into a sacred act.
Define, control, install: transformation into an acolyte of the Goddess
Sacrifice is nothing other than the production of sacred things. Georges Bataille
Naked as you are, in this position of humble offering, in the tranquillity of this ancient house, in the presence of your Mistress and teacher, a sense of peace floods over you, benign like the morning Spring sun which envelops you.
You follow the sound of the door quietly closing and my footsteps on the blond sandstone, the scrapping of the chair which I pull away from the little desk. The heels are not stilettos.
You feel my hand on your upper back, briefly intimating some muscles to relax before i sit. You feel the proximity of one of my feet as I cross my legs. Then, when the ball of my foot finally reposes on your right shoulder, the image of 3-inch square heeled boots that you’ve seen before forms in your head.
You have polished these boots in the past and you know that I favour them for long walks in town. They are differently dangerous than stilettos or my bespoke thigh-high heels boots, they speak of having to crawl fast on your four as you try to keep up with my pace. They speak of balance and the effortless possibility for me and of being easily trampled for you.
For now, nothing of the sort happens, you just feel the weight of the ball of my foot on your right shoulder as I extend my other leg which length rests on your back, and you recognise the rounded square heel which edge dents the top of your left buttock. You take pleasure in the closeness you feel at this objectification: you are supporting my stance, maybe you are providing comfort to my legs? There is relief in this simple moment: you are of use, your will blissfully erased, your ego evaporating in the knowledge of service to come, and with this, an exhilarating sense of freedom washes over you.
During this retreat, you will deepen your service and worship of the Feminine Principle, the Goddess in all her forms and attributes and you will participate in a ceremony inspired by the ancient cult of Kybele and Attis. The purpose of which is to balance light and shadow, Feminine and Masculine.
The transformation of a devotee such as you are into an acolyte of the Goddess is fourfold:
• Service: helping in the kitchen and serving meals
cleaning feet
attendance to procession
carrying the implements of sacrifice: athame, torches and candles, bells, whip.
pouring libations
light bearing
• Pain training: flagellation
suturing
isolation - burying
• Hetaira training: dress
posture and deportment
objectification
worshipping and being a vessel
• Reflecting: You will keep a journal of your day and reflect on your experience,
For the duration of the training, you will remain in chastity until the last ceremony which will end in you making a vow of a year-long chastity.
You will wear this long shirt and sarouel pants when working in the kitchen and serving at my table.You will eat your meals in your room. And you will be naked but for your chastity cage for the rest of the time. You will only talk when spoken to. You know your safe words and will use them intelligently.
In this place, everything we think, feel and do is an act of devotion. We transform the humblest of our tasks to the most transgressive and indecent into a sacred offering to the Goddess.
We turn upon its head the madness of our times. We push the boundaries of our rational wills, our urges, our desires and fantasies by an immersion into sensation, into the superlative of excess. We transform our relationship to the world, its creatures and artefacts by communing with them. Intimacy, awe and sometimes ecstasy are the rewards of Sacrifice.
« Le sacrifice restitue au monde sacré ce que l’usage servile a dégradé, rendu profane”
You listen attentively. My words merge with your longings. The sense of freedom, like a gentle warm wave of blood which source seems to be springing in your heart, soaks the inside of your chest, your abdomen, your genitals, flows along your arms and legs to the tip of your fingers and toes, and finally spills up your throat to fill your head.
Formless, liquid, languid, you exist for a moment in this arcadian state.
I observe your transformation, and feel your plasticity under my boot as the wave of calm engulfs you.
From the walnut writing desk I take your collar, a little softer now after a year of rituals.
Kneel in Nadu.
It takes a little while for my voice to reassemble your molecules and for you to reintegrate your body and your mind enough to assume the requested shape. The collar has a mysterious effect: it holds you in form: corporal, mental, emotional and erotic.
My hands are cold against your skin, this enhances the goosebumps of the ritual and hardens the erection that commenced the second you kneeled in “humble offering”. The wave of warm blood seems to have concentrated in your cock…
You think you know what comes next…
I watch perplexity redefine your features, the blue of your eyes suddenly overcast, deepens, your brow tenses for a bit.
I pick up the surgical steel chastity cage and smile.
Since it looks like you will not be able to fit into your little cage, we will have to make you shrink. You will masturbate and release on the count of ten.
I count backwards.
You take your balls into your left hand- its been a Week since you last relased - They are tight, heavy. Your cock throbs, so sensitive.
7 and half….Stop
You pant and squeeze your perineal muscles, restricting the flow of sperm, hot and spurious.
Tension… between your urge to come, your fascination with your own seed, your will and compliance with my order. Then comes the second layer of erotic delight in the form of being the voluntary subject and slave to my will, whims and decisions. Your cock is harder still.
I resume counting.
6, 5, 4,
You let yourself surf on my voice, confident that climax is near when I stop you again. So near … yet… so far.
A doubt creeps in your mind….
Wood pigeons coo somewhere under the roof. The stridulations of crickets has intensified. From deep inside the house you hear hushed footsteps, doors quietly opened and closed.
Hands behind your neck.
The wax of a thin church candle drips on your balls, then on the length of your still throbbing cock… and on the gland.
Swiftly, I pass your soften member and balls through the ring and your cock slips into the cage which I lock.
Nuit d'Or
You might enjoy listening to the entire series of The Return of Ishtar I have created for my podcast on Patreon. Join me at In Praise of Shadows || The BDSM Chronicles at:
https://www.patreon.com/BDSM_Chronicles 
