I can feel it when it shifts and it’s pure magic.
Initially, clients walked through my door motivated by horniness and they couldn’t hear anything beyond that. Their intoxication for big breasts or specific sex acts consumed their entire focus. They came nursing sexual fantasies they’ve had complex relationships with for years. Often taboo. Sometimes suppressed, sometimes a secret driving need they’ve hidden from the world. A siren call that draws them again and again. The more they resist, the stronger it becomes…
And it is a siren call – and as a professional dominatrix, I was a siren of the deep, both feared and desired – but the song isn’t what it first appears. To be drowned in Mother Ocean is not the end but rather an initiation.
Our sexual fantasies are the map but they are not the destination. Over years of being a sex worker, I have learned to trust those fantasies and respect them as wise. In all their seeming twistedness hides the key to a great human mystery. A treasure of beingness that cannot be put in words.
Our desires and horniness are only the driving force to get us on the path to begin with and then fuel to keep us there when the going gets tough, or to transport us blissfully.
Our desires are a force within us giving us strong motivation, but the motivation for what? Our turn-ons are often far too complex to be merely about procreation.
Once on the journey, horniness, and desire take on different qualities. Arousal and erotic pleasure can still be very strong and beautiful but… it’s different. Orgasms are not the main crescendo they are commonly perceived to be… When engaged with intentional awareness, our sexual desires have the potential to lead us to something beyond.
Each person responds to a unique set of physical and psychological mechanisms in order to open to this mysterious beyond. That is why my art form is far more than learning how to safely suspend someone or stimulate the prostate correctly. It is about mapping each person’s unique erotic psyche and then translating that into an embodied experience within the relative safety of a consensual adult play scene.
In this form of play, we explore the nature of our emotions… the nature of power… we explore all the natural challenges of life as a human being and create allies of them. Then, once we are in aware and consensual relationship with these often previously unowned aspects of ourselves, we discover an inner ocean beyond.
That place is not for me to describe for it lies beyond the part of our minds that thinks in linear logic or comprehends normal words. It is a different part of us, hinted at by myths, music, art and poets. It is personal and yours to discover.
One thing is true for all of us though, we can only enter through surrender. Like all initiation rites around the world, submission in BDSM is a letting go of the old in order to open to the new. It is a consensual space within safe boundaries, where we explore ourselves. All of ourselves. Even the parts hidden in dark crevices of the mind. The part of the ocean that lies beyond bikini-clad snorkeling reefs and sunny beaches…
He came to me because being humiliated by being turned into a sissy slut, and then used, turned him on. It is my role as a siren, in service to the Ocean, to greet that arousal within him with acceptance and warmth. It is my job to entice it forth in him. Besides, it is fun! We get to play!
Often this itself is a powerful shifting moment. To have our strange and unexplainable desires seen and praised is rare, even in this tindr-sex-soaked society.
However, it is also my role to see beyond that. As I said, our turn-ons are the map, not the destination.
With a submissive kneeling before me, I become a predator, seeking out the mechanisms that will release them into subspace. I hunt them down, blocking their resistances and tricking their defenses until they crack open.
This particular submissive required his masculinity to be challenged so he could surrender.
Stripping him of his wallet, phone, ID, clothes and even his name was only the beginning. I transformed him into the symbols of things he was taught to believe are weak and pathetic from boyhood. I turned him into a sissy. Pink frills, satin panties, and bra, lipstick. I am not only turning him into the worst thing a boy can be… a girl… but I am also turning him into the very worst version of a girl… the lowliest thing… a slut… a whore… like me.
As a feminist, retired sex worker, believe me, I am fully aware of how misogynistic that appears. I am also aware that our turn-ons are more complex than they first seem and that the way out, is through. Trying to avoid internalized misogyny is only a bypass. Likewise, writing off these desires as wrong because they seem to resemble misogyny also misses the point.
Entering into embodied play with intentional awareness, and an experienced guide can create alignment where there was discord. Years of this kind of play has left me in no doubt of its potential power for positive transformation.
My role as Mistress, was to enact things that would trigger layer upon layer of surrender. To draw him deeper and deeper into the sea until his ego cannot struggle anymore and drowns… temporarily…
Tied in bondage, all his sissy holes filled and locked down in chastity, I controlled everything. Then to take it to the next level, his next breath became my choice.*
Scissoring his face between my thighs, I smothered him with my pussy… waiting until he began to squirm in instinctual struggle then clamping my thighs down tighter to hold him for seconds more… seconds that feel like cavernous forever.
He gasped for air but was not panicked. He was in peace… trust had been established already and he yearned to submit further. Still his mind held on. Still there were barriers between him and the mysterious.
So again, I took his breath away… again… and again… I chose when he could breath and when he could not.
That is when it shifted. That’s when the magic happened. I could feel him dissolving and time slowing. I felt physical rushes through my body as the boundaries between us melted. My heart, a warm glowing sun, expanding beyond my body and surrounding us both. I was all-powerful as he slipped deeper and deeper under my control, and yet we are both transported.
This time I only let him gasp for breath for a short moment before I filled his mouth with my urine, hot and free-flowing. To him it felt like golden nectar from the Goddess… an intimate ingestion of part of me. A Oneness.
Together we floated in wonder, this stranger and I. Maybe it was a moment, maybe it was an hour…
He arrived thinking that ejaculation was the crowning moment and left having no orgasm at all but filled with amazement at what else is possible. With what lay within him all along.
“That was mind-blowing! I didn’t know! I really didn’t know! I didn’t know!” he said glowing. Then he just stood there beaming because there were no words.
*Please do NOT try breath play if you are not trained in how to do this safely. It can be dangerous if you do not know what you are doing.
Copyright Artemisia de Vine