A selection of Maitresse Nuit aka Nuit d'Or's articles on the psychology of BDSM & kink, relationship dynamics between Dominant & submissive, adventures in BDSM, evocative, erotic and very transgressive memoirs of past sessions. Here you can dive in the “BDSM Chronicles” which you can listen to on Patreon.
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BDSM POWER GAMES: PUSHING LIMITS and PLAYING AT THE EDGE OF THE UNBEARABLE.
“I want him to endure for my pleasure, though not at my hands. I will not be the one feeding him the energy of dominance; I will watch, preside, and contain the scene within the hierarchy of power: Maîtresse at the pinnacle, Master as the executor, and [helot] as the supplicant and devotee.”
Testing the limits of power: Today, Maîtresse offers [helot] to Ars Lucis to submit to male dominance for her pleasure. A ritual of hierarchy, trust, and surrender.
“I wish that I could go
Through the red doors where I could put off
My shame like shoes in the porch,
My pain like garments,
And leave my flesh discarded lying
Like luggage of some departed traveller
Gone one knows not where.
Then I would turn round,
And seeing my cast-off body lying like lumber,
I would laugh with joy.”
D.H. Lawrence “In Trouble and Shame”
I am seated alone in the crimson room,
the warm glow of candles enhancing the texture of the damask drapes, picking up the reds in the intricate geometrical design of the Persian knotted carpet.
The flickering flames soften the almost black walls, making their darkness seem velvety rather than oppressive, and temper the discomforting whiteness of the bespoke gynaecological bench that stands ominously against one side of the room.
Sage smoke twists and curls in languid arabesques, tracing ancient patterns in the air, while the soft ululations of an invocation, as old as desire itself, rise and fall with hypnotic cadence.
The ritual has already started, although [helot*], my slave, has not yet entered the room.
It began the moment he knocked on the door, his body and mind filled with anticipation, nerves, excitement, and a flicker of foreboding…
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The Collaring Ceremony: A Ritual of Passage in Power Exchange
“M-von-s watches as the blade tears the diaphanous fabric, each fibre severed with careful precision. He The initiate does not miss the way her breath catches, nor the manner her body tenses at the steel’s kiss. The knowledge that he the new slave will follow where she leads coils within, a tightening thread of devotion and fear.
“She is both slave and Goddess. Be mindful of the pain she receives tonight—you will endure the same. Accept it with the same grace.”
There is no hesitation. M-von-s nods, absorbing my words, understanding their weight. To take pain is not simply to endure; it is to receive. It is an exchange, an offering, and a claim.
The slave watches marie gwendoline’s ordeal.
Supported by sergei, she yields to the whip.”
A collaring ceremony is a ritual of passage, marking the deepening of the power exchange between Dominant and submissive.
PROLOGUE
A collaring ceremony is a ritual of passage, marking the deepening of the power exchange between Dominant and submissive. It is also intensely personal and marks a new stage, and level of mutual commitment in that journey. In the world of BDSM, such ceremonies serve as rites of initiation, evoking echoes of ancient vows, religious consecration, and the investiture of knights. To be collared is to be transformed, to cross the threshold from independent selfhood into a state of submission where one’s identity is reframed through service, devotion, and surrender.
The ritual is a crucible of endurance, trust, and irrevocable commitment. My dominance is accepted as absolute within the context of D/s, yet it is layered with a calculated interplay of discipline and reverence, demanding not just obedience but spiritual surrender. The ceremony is designed to strip my soon to be collared slave - of any lingering resistance, symbolically breaking him open so that he may be reforged—his pain, his sacrifice, his blood serving as the currency of his submission.
I am not alone conducing this rite. Three other Mistresses—Miss Meyers, Mistress Siren, and Lady Lola—each embodying a facet of feminine dominance and power—stand as witnesses, initiators, and deities before whom the submissives must prove their worth. They are priestesses of the rite, shaping and testing the submissive spirit of my long time devotee and now initiate slave m-von-s…
The rest lies behind the curtain.
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BDSM INITIATION | Captivity | Descent into true submission and surrender
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.
Initiation of slave [¥] into the mysteries of Goddess.
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 spiralling 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 along the corridor walls 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”
Maîtresse Nuit
PAINTING : Study in May , painting by Yannis Tsarouchis https://tsarouchis.gr/en/works-by-yannis-tsarouchis/paintings/
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