I’ve noticed the changes our scenes have caused already. You’re more aware of your boundaries now. You defend them better. You advocate for them with ease. When we started, you knew no fear. That was admirable, but also dangerous—a blindness to the wisdom fear provides. We must have fear; it gives us information we’d otherwise miss. Fearlessness is not the goal; courage is. To be courageous, you must first know fear. Feel it. Confront it.
I wonder what deadened your fear before. What shock or loss buried it deep? In time, I’m sure I’ll learn, as all truths reveal themselves. For now, we continue this process of awakening. Tonight, we honor the intentions you’ve set for yourself, the path you’ve chosen, no matter how difficult it may be.
Your intention is clear: to stay true to yourself, to walk the path meant for you. My intention is equally resolute—to help you manifest that.
We set the table, laying out the tools one by one. You watch, nervous yet curious, asking questions in a soft, wavering voice: “What’s that for? Are we using that too?” I see you trying to piece it all together, but tonight isn’t about certainty. It’s about trust—trust in your resilience and in the path you’ve chosen. Doubt and hesitation are killers of magick, and we won’t let them take root.
I smile as I move slowly, methodically, setting everything in its place. I see the tie settle into your body, and I feel your nervousness climb to new heights. Life, like a sadist, waits for consent—neutral until given direction and purpose.
When I lay you on the table, I ask for a mantra, a truth you want to make real. Your words are beautiful, full of power, and I tell you to hold them close as we begin. You’re secured now. I ask you to move, and you laugh nervously: “Wow, I really can’t move.”
“You only know the half of it,” I reply, securing my favorite cuffs to ensure your helplessness. Tonight, you must endure.
Small bites along your body tease the reality of your immobility. I let the helplessness settle over you like a weighted blanket. My aura expands, filling the sanctuary, feeding off the pain and pleasure you radiate. I return to the rack and carefully select the next tool.
Your nipples, so sensitive, now house my clamps. A bear claw rakes your flesh, drawing out gasps and shivers. Tucked securely in your bonds, I let the knife skitter across your skin, leaving surface-level nicks and cuts—just enough to imply the danger.
You’re slipping now, retreating into the world we’ve created together. I hear your mantra echo in the space, grounding you as I step through the door you’ve opened. Your subconscious is waiting for me, beautiful and raw.
“Lovely what you’ve done with the place,” I tease, as the ritual begins.
I take the wax and trace the rune we prescribed. Tonight, it’s leadership—a heavy burden, but one you’re ready to bear. The wax drips slowly, deliberately, searing its purpose into your skin. Your screams shift to moans as the heat transforms into acceptance.
You slip further into the trance—not quite as deep as during the Table Challenge, but deeper than before. Your consciousness takes a back seat, and your subconscious takes the wheel, repeating the mantra like a sacred hymn.
By the time we finish, you’re utterly still, the ritual’s purpose etched into your body and soul. I pour the same care into aftercare as I did the scene, cleaning and soothing with precision. We read together, grounding ourselves in the mindset needed for this work—the awareness, the responsibility, the magick.
You’re more receptive tonight, still unfolding from within yourself. That’s okay. Your journals will help guide you until next week, when we’ll take the next step in this journey.
Leave a Reply