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The Captain, the slave, and his Mistress


Knife

The knife in Cléo’s hand

With all of the talk right now about taking baby steps into BDSM and kink, sanitizing and gentrifying it, I want to tell you about my 20 year archetypal and elemental relationship with Mike, whose name I changed for this story.

Air
As I flew back home from my trip to the wonderful Yucatan peninsula, I flashed back to a pilot I have fond memories of.  Mike had a lot of control, being an international pilot for one of the largest US airlines.  He visited me monthly for nearly twenty years when I was doing professional dominance.  A knight in leather when he drove up on his impeccably beautiful Harley, he was tall with piercing blue eyes and very much the gentleman.  He was also the first motorcyclist I ever saw wearing armor under his jacket for protection so if you fall, you won’t break your back.  He was very aware of all the risks he took.

Mike knew what he needed to keep his life in balance.  The captain came to me to surrender control.  Without any intellectual discussion about it, we understood the same symbolic erotic language and we truly connected.  Pain made him soar.

Fire
Married, he never came out  to his wife.  He timed his visits carefully to guard his secret and get his masochistic needs met.

I delighted in strapping him to my whipping post for a long flogging on his back followed by some fiery lashes from my single tail.

At his core, he needed to be owned.  He had a slave heart and wanted his body to bear my mark. To own his slave persona, I branded him on his perineum (aka taint).  He said, “nobody ever looked there!”  I used a curved piece of very thin steel in the shape of a C held by a vise grip, heated to 2400 F with a propane torch. He loved my kiss of fire!

Torch

Ready to Strike! Photo by Fakir

Water
He also gave me the beautiful collector’s knife you see in the top photo.   With a very sharp and curved blade, the handle features a red goddess dancing.   That is how I got introduced to knife play.

Gliding the sharp blade on his skin right above his pubic mound very consciously opening his skin for a few millimeters letting his blood out, catching it on the tip of the blade and laying  it on his tongue.  Blood shed in SM ritual is sacred.

Earth
We always ended our scenes with his worshipping my feet until I had a sweet energy orgasm.  Naked, he was my devoted knight.  At my feet he found his grounding.

When he retired from the airlines, he came for a final visit and gifted me with a bag of double purple iris bulbs from his garden.  He said, “when they bloom where I live and in your yard, we will remember.”  What a great closure and the energy does return every spring when the purple double irises blossom in my backyard.  I think of him and what for me is the true magic of SM.

Before he rode off into the sunset, I asked, “And what are you going to do with that SM energy that is so much a part of you?”  He said, “I am going to take tango lessons!”  A little tamer, but still fiery, I hope he found his perfect dance partner!

In kink with heart,

Cléo Dubois

Ready to explore your kink? I coach couples in the privacy of my dungeon and offer Erotic Dominance Intensives to those eager to dive into this erotic pool.  Read a new real story here every Saturday morning at 10am!  Enjoy, comment, share!

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