BASTIENNE CROSS | TORONTO DOMINATRIX
I close my eyes, as directed.
"What do you hear?" she asks.
"The dogs playing, the air conditioner in the bedroom, you moving around on the chair," I respond. A distant yet familiar feeling immediately presents itself under the darkness of my eyelids. The thoughts slide into my mind, involuntarily. The hope that my answer was correct, the fear of disappointing her, the familiar discomfort of vulnerability. I feel a bit silly for succumbing so quickly and pull myself back, comforting myself with the understanding that my eyes are simply closed, nothing to fear.
"What else can you hear?" she asks as she begins slowly walking across the hardwood floor. "Your high heels on the floor," I respond, trying to sound confident, still hoping that's the right answer. "I need you to see with your ears, see me walking through the room," she says in her low, calming voice. With that directive, I can see her. The dark of my eyelids are lit up with the projection of her walking back & forth in my living room, my mind happily grants me the visual. I can feel the arms of the chair under my hands, my legs touching each other, I wonder what my face looks like. My mind starts to wander, musing over what it would be like to be blind, senses heightened, I can feel it. I concentrate on the visual of her walking back & forth, though I lose track of where she is in the room. My ears are trying to work as eyes but they're failing, I'm descending into the sensations of my body, the consistency of the shoes, walking across the floor.
I feel something in front of me, the rhythm of her pacing has stopped and I realize, she's here. I can see a version of her face but it's washed out, almost like a watercolour, swirling as my mind struggles to generate an accurate image. It suddenly becomes clear that there's no sense in holding on to the memory of the outside world and I immediately, involuntarily feel a release. I melt into the dreamlike version my mind is presenting. I realize she's been talking in that low, gentle voice this whole time.
My inner narrative and her voice are speaking directly to each other.
I witness her speaking to my inner world and I realize the beauty of this offer; I don't need words, I don't need eyes, I just need to surrender. I'm seeing with my ears as she begins an inventory. A gentle, methodical inventory. I watch her speaking to my fears, pulling them out of the darkness. As she gently pushes my body, she calls out to the corners of my mind.
She is the authority and I am a witness.
There's a space now between my thoughts and the outside world and this is where she has positioned herself, my advocate. She invites the negative thoughts, the doubts, the insecurity, the anger & fear to show themselves. She calmly gathers them in this space and my mind can see her standing up to them on my behalf, all the things I couldn't face alone. She assesses them objectively and decides that these things are not needed. She turns around and invites me to banish them. Her watercolour face asks my body to take action, a simple action to complete the work that she has just done. As I stir from my stillness, I feel tears in my eyes and I act. I banish them with a breath. I step into the space that she created, replacing the watercolour version of her and now, I'M the advocate.
The watercolour room becomes more vibrant, more solid and I open my eyes to the most caring, beautiful face looking at me. I burst out crying and she immediately wraps me in a big hug. In the quiet of the room and the visceral comfort of this connection I realize..
THIS is FemDom.
There is no strength comparable to this. Steadfast compassion, quiet acceptance and kindness; these are simply the most valuable of human traits. What a sorely needed reminder for me in my practice of BDSM. I've recently been immersing myself, deeply, in humiliation based kinks and relishing in the cesspool of disgust and power they elicit in me. I've been fueling recent scenes with genuine anger and I've lost my sense of balance. True power is not physically or psychologically beating someone into submission. True power is holding the most valuable thing in your hands and choosing to share it. Every woman has this power within them, from the day they are born, until the day they die. We are always the advocates of whatever form of power we choose.
Lovely, little sadist living in Toronto, Ontario. This is my journal, where my brain gets to play.