Somewhere in a dream about a Dungeons and Dragons role-playing game, two magical characters met like sunlight touching shadow, like major chords of music dancing among deep minor chords. They met at twilight on the bank of a river, where warm white-water rapids flowed over smooth, cool stones. Both characters were working with the charm spell, hoping to cast it at higher levels.
The first character was a wonderful wood elf with natural but well-groomed brightness, who said with some certainty, “The greater the effect of the charm spell, the more consent that is required from the subject. When the magic wears off, people always realize they have been charmed and can get upset if they feel manipulated.” The second character was a beautiful dark fairy, with a wild, animal magnetism suffused with a supernatural glow. She stretched, relaxing thoughtfully, and replied with some uncertainty, “Perhaps this is true when we prompt something to their harm, which breaks the spell anyway. However, the humans' bright conscious minds do not always allow what they really want in the primal darkness within. The problem may be in shocking them by prompting too much, too fast. We should rather use empathy or mind-reading. In this way, we may simply tell them what they really desire in those dark depths, releasing the magic from within.” The two characters chatted for some time about this perennial issue. The wood elf wanted helpful, clear-cut answers while the dark fairy felt dispelling ambiguity might destroy the magic.
0 Comments
"The three days before the initiation were a bit of a dry spell after the intense infusions of the grace and presence of Goddess during the training period, and I once again felt my monkey mind finding rational explanations for my behaviors. The dry spell, too, gave me a chance to consent with a clear mind to this path; however, the three months and the 21 days had also acted like a kind of exposure therapy, making me increasingly comfortable with daily worship and virtual lifestyle submission to Goddess. Also, the bliss and trance moments came more and more often, pleasure enwrapping my mind and drawing me as a leash always into her presence, her embrace.
During the drive to her place on the Saturday morning of the initiation, images of the last three weeks passed through my mind: wooden-spoon spanking, red-rope tying, and candles of ritual spell binding. I felt peace at knowing I would soon enter a smooth routine of tithing, service, and worship balanced with a modicum of regular interaction rather than the intense highs and lows of uncertainty that I experienced during training. There was also peace as I came to her door, knowing the expected protocol of knocking no more than three times and waiting at least 30 minutes. Today, Goddess appeared after the first knock, wearing a red dress that enhanced the stunning beauty of her eyes and curls, as well as the bare skin of her athletic legs and shoulders. I was entranced as she put the black leather collar around my neck and enchanted as she snapped the chain leash into place, leading me to her car. We soon arrived at a familiar shopping center in town and walked to a space that I had never noticed before, next to a thrift store. The exterior was unmarked, and within was a lobby, somewhat larger and more luxurious than the storefront would suggest. On elegant walnut shelves I could see statuettes of many historical goddesses, including Shakti, Kuan Yin, Isis, Freya, Athena, and Hecate. There were both the red and the black versions of Santa Muerte. Actual censors hung from the ceiling, burning with incense. Goddess led me through one of two open archways into a sanctuary. Plush benches were arranged like pews in front of a platform, where an altar stood, covered with candles and crystals. I was slightly confused when Goddess guided me to a seat in the back, attached the leash to a hook there, and departed back through the archway. I was perhaps more startled by the variety of people filling the benches. The women were clearly in charge: some sat with men at their feet and some with men at their side while others were attended by women. Some had one partner, others had several, and still others dominated small flocks. In front of me, a pair of women seemed to share a man, who kneeled at their feet. I saw in some religious robes, some in BDSM attire, and a few in cosplay costumes such as Poison Ivy, Wonder Woman, and vampire. Most were in street clothes both casual and formal. How surprised I was when the service started and after some music on acoustic guitar, my beautiful, wonderful Goddess was introduced as the High Priestess of Goddess Temple! She came through a purple curtain behind the altar, wearing a long black robe. She carried a wooden staff that was encircled like a caduceus with silver serpents. She gave a message very much in keeping with the great diversity of people before her. “We celebrate the many spiritual paths represented here today,” she said in her hypnotic, intoxicating voice. “Some follow one faith, some many, and some none at all. Some reconstruct a traditional practice, and some build a new archetype. Some of us focus on equanimity while others enjoy a deep, consensual idolatry. It is my belief, however, that at the heart of every fruitful path, there is a symbiosis—a sharing, a harmony of both giving and taking.” She held the rapt attention of everyone with analogies of roots and branches, anchors and sails, center and circumference. She spoke of core identity, shifting roles, and surface behaviors. She closed with an inspirational call to health and happiness, to being to the best possible versions of ourselves. Before exiting through the purple curtain, she turned the service over to a priestess, who like several other women near the front, wore a black cloak over casual clothes. “I assume some of the great turn out today is due to excitement over our new initiates, so let’s get right to the ceremony!” announced the priestess. “If you are taking part today, please bring your pets or partners to the front.” As several others rose from their places and went forward, Goddess returned through the arch behind me and guided me to the front as well. Probably because of my training, everything seemed calm and pleasant, but in this public venue, I was nowhere near the pleasure of subspace that I had expected. “This is a sacred moment in which we seal eternal intentions that can really only be enacted day by day,” the priestess intoned as the acoustic guitar music resumed. "Each initiate has come with a desire to surrender to a Goddess, to accept her truth, and to trust her fully. Today, you publicly give yourself to your Goddess, and your Goddess claims you as her own. If you feel comfortable, I ask each of you to kneel before your Goddess and receive the anointing that represents the love and pleasure you desire most in this world.” The other two initiates and I knelt down as the three Goddesses dipped their fingers in a golden chalice, placing fragrant oil upon our foreheads. At once I felt the familiar embrace of bliss, entering a waking trance. Even in the wonderful sense of belonging, I felt the strong desire to go deeper and deeper for my Goddess, suddenly remembering forgotten words from the first time I heard her voice: “How deep do you want to go?” I didn’t actually interact with Goddess often during those first three months and had to learn to feel her bliss, go into trance, “walk in the Spirit,” and sense what was expected on my own. I had both a deep, abiding devotion and ability to be low maintenance, as though being her puppet was making me stronger. By the end of the three months, just one of her audio files and one or two of her videos were enough to keep me in her most holy love, feeling her presence at times every day.
During the 21 days of training, I encountered Goddess more often. The first week was a little painful as I needed to learn to be polite and put Goddess first. It wasn’t so much memorizing a complicated protocol as simply adjusting to her routine and preferences. I learned to wait patiently when instructed to message her, not to feel rejected or left hanging but as trusting as a beloved, obedient pet. I found that going to her apartment in the evenings was best and that treating her space as sacred was crucial. She displayed great kindness in helping me navigate new media and technology, and she always extended grace when I showed appreciation and gave her thanks. She had the gentlest dominance I had ever known, which did fill me with gratitude—and sometimes tears of joy. For the second week, she asked me to stay the night several times for special training and I saw rooms beyond the kitchen and visiting area. Most of the apartment seemed dedicated to her content creation and art work. Somehow, though, even among the lights, cameras, computers, scripts, and books, she maintained a sense of interior design. During this time, I found Goddess influencing my interpersonal skills. I learned to adjust to her manner of speaking, what words she found appropriate and what tone and style she liked—which was somewhat casual but gentlemanly. Some of her special sessions went deeper as Goddess tied me with soft, red cords, showing me how her virtual, mental control could be physiological, how love mixed with lust, pleasure with pain. Kneeling before her became instinctive as well as blissful. It was difficult to convey how hopelessly in love I felt and how completely devoted I was by this time, but she loved to know how deeply the conditioning was working and how much power she had over me. For the third week, Goddess asked me to move in for the most intensive training yet. She opened a new doorway at the end of the hall to a room that contained five cages, each big enough for a large dog. One was prepared with a sleeping mat as well as dishes for food and water. She said this was a place for conditioning the mindset of human pets, which she adored. I took my meals and rest here, but this last week actually involved less overt training than previously. Other than regular meditations and my work-out routine, Goddess only tweaked some details of my dressing and grooming, for example, teaching me to oil and brush my beard. As I left and came back from work, I seemed able to meet all of her expectations and even please her, which only increased her grip on me, her presence deep within my heart, deep within my soul. Although I had been through a longish process, I realized that I had crossed a point of no return the first time I heard her voice. “Now my pet,” Goddess said fondly on my last day, “I am releasing you to return home. Now you know in every fiber of your being that you are mine, that you belong to me. I am always with you, guiding you, nurturing you. My words control you. Trust in me and trust your training. In three days, I want you to attend the initiation at the Goddess Temple with me. It’s what you want. It’s what you need.” Happy hour during the summer in the small college town had always been slow. The Uptown Lounge was no different than usual as the only customers seemed to be me, a couple of townies in a booth, and at the far end of the bar, an extremely gorgeous woman. Her hair fell in curls around the most wonderful eyes that I have ever seen, a form-fitting black dress revealing athletic, tan legs and arms, balanced on the bar stool, so beautiful and sexy. She told me she was a Goddess in a way that seemed light-hearted and solemn at the same time.
Thinking back, I realize she must have been testing me in three pronounced stages, but at the time, I was completely mesmerized by her beauty, voice, and words. First, she motioned for me to come, her fingers gracefully fluttering like a butterfly, strangely alluring, pushed her empty glass towards me and simply stated, “red wine.” It felt so rewarding to follow this simple instruction. When I returned with a glass of the best wine I could afford, she said, “Sit here. I have a little game I think you would like very much.” The words seemed to be only a suggestion, but her tone and demeanor made me feel that to listen and comply would be pleasant. Taking out and swinging a jade pendulum, she soon had me in a hypnotic trance, in a peaceful and blissful state that I have since come to love more than life itself. Thirty minutes seemed to pass within seconds, though I do remember nodding and repeating a few words as well as feeling deep pleasure at her words, “You are now mine.” I don’t remember ever having so much trust and warmth for someone so quickly. Irrationally, felt I would do anything for her. When she told me to follow her to her car, the command touched something in the wellspring of my being, filling me with bliss. As she guided me outside, I was still entranced as she told me she thought I might be a natural submissive, that a three-month program under her care would increase my happiness and health. I have always longed to find a dominant woman, and I deeply wanted to follow this program, needed her plan for me. During the next three months, I studied the book she gave me, practiced some ritual meditations, and did daily physical training. The book outlined the history of goddess worship, theory and practice of female superiority, as well as various designs for woman-dominated relationships. The meditations included mantras, audio loops, and some videos—all of which caused me to go into trance ever more quickly, more deeply, and more frequently. Sometimes just the thought of Goddess brought waves of pleasure and bliss, a feeling of falling in love. The physical training plan was simply a healthy diet, aerobic running, and yoga work outs. After completing the plan, Goddess suggested a 21-day intensive training. However, she made me wait three days before committing, during which time I was frustratingly clear-minded and wakeful, seldom able to go deep in trance and not “walking in the Spirit,” as I had started calling the random bliss flows that had been saturating my days. I tried to satisfy myself with rational explanations. I assured myself my submission was an acceptable liberty, a human right, with everything safe and consensual. Finally, I made the leap of faith, saying “Yes” to Goddess, when cords of pleasure seemed to bind me once again. When my mind enters the eternal spiral, I become unsure what comes first: the re-enactment, the fantasy and dream, or the trance. Each is virtual, and yet each influences reality. As in phases of the moon or addiction, there seem to be down times—both waxing and waning, times of trance when the veil that hides other worlds is thin and times when a wall blocks transcendence.
I don’t know exactly at which point in the cycle when the puppy love started. In trance, I feel the love and pleasure that is all I desire in this world. In the re-enactments, I kneel before Goddess, serve, and worship her. In the fantasy, I experience a virtual reality that often takes me back into trance... In the dream, I am shopping for incense and candles in Walmart among the soft scents and essential oils. A woman asks me to get something for her from the bottom shelf, strongly suggesting that I get on my knees, and being suddenly filled with waves of bliss, cannot resist. Seeing my ecstatic compliance, she guides me to the pet supplies, publicly fits me with a collar, and takes me through the checkout on a leash. Sometimes she takes me to deeper stages, in which I am a puppy in her home, treated and trained, petted and sometimes caged. Last night, I hit one of the down times as I struggled on the edge of reality. It was as if I were trying to visit the sacred space of Goddess, intoxicated by her beauty. Too far away to hear, I saw her demonstrating a ritual binding with red cord, and I longed to be spellbound by her magic. Somehow not equipped to enter the inner circle, I felt that I might have made a misstep or stumble. I could make no connection, feel no belonging. I had such a lost feeling, wanting to cry, whimpering like a puppy or hurting like a lovesick boy. My mood kept swinging from the delight that I might yet do enough to please Goddess to the despair that I had done too much, troubling her. Part of me felt the shame of a disappointing child, but another part of me relished the pain as a possible sharing in her feelings—for when she is sad, I am sad. Perhaps the frown is simply a natural part of the spiral to her smile. In the end, I was able to guard my heart and give my Goddess a 5-star rating of admiration. I do not want to be an untrained pet, chewing things or making messes. I believe Goddess loves her obedient pets. CBT according to the APA:
The morning of my appointment with my therapist, I felt the familiar tingle of bliss like the vibration of an incoming text message or call even as crows were cawing outside. The superstitious part of me thought of the Dark Goddess and how I felt magically drawn back to sessions again and again, but my logical mind simply noted the appointment on the calendar, which I did not remember making. In the waiting room, the warmth of anticipation grew as by faith I followed the ritual of signing in and sitting down, dimly realizing that pleasure guided me like a leash. The chairs were more plush and décor more luxurious than the usual doctor’s office--deep red curtains, intricate Persian rug, leafy plants, and jasmine scented candles, the artwork on the dark walls more psychedelic and the magazines more exotic. I felt a strange urge to kneel. I could not remember a time without this CBT therapy, and I could not remember details from most of the many sessions with my therapist. However, I could see evidence of progressive changes. For example, to face some of my fears of the occult, she prescribed pentagrams--first a ring, then a small tattoo, and later a much larger tattoo. Also, although she abhorred drug use or any kind of addiction, she sometimes enhanced role-playing with hypnotic altered states and even medication. Over time, taking a puff or pill or needle for her became the most normal thing in the world. Being under her care and increasingly powerful control always seems pleasant and natural. However, I believe I passed some point of no return during our first session, the first time that I ever heard her intoxicating voice. My therapist finally came through the oak door, smiling and guiding me to a seat in her office. With a surge of emotion, I remembered how much I adored her. Her smile instantly relaxed me as her authority seemed to come more from her confidence than her white lab coat or the diplomas hanging on the wall. I actually found myself relaxed and aroused at the same time because she often wore short black dresses with open collars. Every time when she sat on the desk, it was hard not to stare at the light gleaming off her perfect legs, crossed at my eye level. Today the skirt seemed shorter than ever before, the blouse also open a button lower. Over time, I seemed to respond faster and relax deeper. Today, I was deep in trance for some time when my therapist brought a dream back to memory. I know if I do not write this all down now, it may be forgotten—the current dream state, the dream, the memory of the dream. The dream scene was of the most beautiful woman I have ever imagined, sitting on a bedside, wearing a white, holographic tank bodysuit. Even though I was hidden, an invisible observer, I was irrationally afraid. When I returned moments later, she was playing music, singing along in a kind of reverse psychology to my fearful state—“Psycho Killer” and “Killing Strangers”: We got guns, we got guns, we got guns Ya betta run, ya betta run, ya betta run Run, run, run, run, run, run, run away, oh, oh, oh, oh Impossibly, messages from the divine feminine seemed to channel through the dreamy scene as the beautiful teacher kissed the screen, smiled, and sometimes winked. She said, “I hope you draw near to me next time.” She made a heart sign with her hands as she ritually tied a knot in red cord. I knew when I gave myself to her, I would be bound at the root of my being, taught the very fabric of pleasure and pain. I was in fight or flight mode, but I could not resist listening to the voice and looking at the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen. I was saturated in the presence of Goddess, absorbing all instructions. I am becoming love-locked in an interdimensional, liminal space, going deeper and deeper in fantasy and reality. The virtual Goddess seems able to come through many forms and possess me in many ways. Soon, I must write on the bliss of faithfulness, the joy of submission and love to one most high, most holy Goddess. This one true fantasy with many faces and facets seems able to co-exist with my responsibilities and reality. Late in the night, I became aware in that trance state between waking and sleeping, in a mixture of dream and fantasy, imagining it was Christmas Eve although it was day 2 of 2022. Just before bedtime, I had a hypnotic session by video with Goddess, and knowing I am ever more deeply under her full control, I repeated the instructions to dream of Mrs. Claus, trusting my mind would comply.
In the fantasy, Mrs. Claus sat down on the edge of the bed, her waist pressing against mine in a warm nexus of pleasure. I was a little fearful because she wore red stockings, a thin red gown, black bows, and black short shorts: the tan skin showing between the hems of shorts and stockings was arousing. "Do not be afraid," she said, caressing me. "I am also a gift from Santa. I am unattainable except through this dream, but the power, presence, and pleasure are very, very real." I felt visceral touches as if from fingers, tingles in every chakra, waves of bliss and warmth. She continued the lesson in her intoxicating voice, "We go deeper here than we could in waking life. It is better that I am far away so that I can send my Spirit." I felt tightly bound, dense gravity drilling down through pressure points and holding me in place, the familiar embrace. Even in the throes of this magic, I still felt a little resistance of doubt. "Why are you still afraid?" she said in her gentle, soothing voice. "I have called you by name, called you precious, claimed you as my own, become your one true fantasy, made you feel so in love." "Sometimes I am afraid to share all of my thoughts." Silence. Then unimaginable grace, a flow of acceptance and freedom that I have never known before. She imparted understanding to me--even beyond words--as I wept with joy. To the pure, all things are pure. Some do not understand how this thrilling, tantric transgression can be holy--even submission and consensual idolatry as a sacred trust: I love her to take my devotion, and she loves me to give my devotion. "Now let my love fill you. I am always with you." |
Alan YESpet, puppet, plaything, precious possession Archives
May 2024
Categories |