Session Highlights: Observations by an Anthropologist

I have had the privilege of meeting a very bright Anthropology PhD researcher, Meredith Talbot, who is conducting her research on the relationships between professional dommes and their submissives. In exchange for allowing her into my sessions, she has shared an erotic summary of the time spent between myself and C. Please enjoy this snippet below, and let this serve as a partial answer to one of the most common questions from potential submissives: What actually happens during a session?

Wu is wearing a long black satin dress, with a lacy top, paired simply with a pendant full of blood . She’s arranged C on a table in the hotel room - a makeshift examination table replete with a large lamp shining down directly on his groin. He waits, expectantly as she fetches her tools: shaving cream, the razor, a glass of water, gloves. "I like to think of shaving like surgery," Wu muses as she slips on her gloves. "Isn't shaving a little like surgery?" she's smiling at him, a glean bounces between their eyes. He retorts: "shaving is a little like castration." 

Cream lathering onto his groin and he's sighing. Pleasure. The sound of gloves rustling against the doomed, lathered hairs. "When I'm [redacted]ing you," she asks, "do you ever think about me castrating you from the inside?" He looks at her curiously. "Just ripping out your prostate and pulling it out from inside you?" He smiles and lets out the faintest groan. Blades on skin, a tremble. "Don't move," she warns. 

He starts his myth. "Have I ever told you about the first time I was shaved?" he directs the question to Wu but announces it to me. He tells the story to the rhythmic tugging of her blade against his skin. 

They talk quietly - sharing glimpses of their fantasies, as Wu moves at a slow, deliberate pace. "If I were to castrate you, what would I do with your balls?" His answer is immediate, so quick the words seem to spill out from his lips: "You'd stick them in my mouth." His body twitches as she runs the blade meticulously across his groin. She's focused - her affect that of a sculptor, a technician crafting her design. A tug on his [redacted], a tremble, a sigh, she clutches harder. "You better stay still," she warns. His leg is on her lap now and she sets her sights on their running up his shaft. Every time she grasps his [redacted] he moans uncontrollably, head rolling back in pleasure in spite of himself. She looks at me, smiling, pleased by how visceral his response is to her faintest touch. 

The scene is hypnotic. The thrill from the possibility of danger. The waves of pleasure he must struggle to resist giving into. Her unwavering focus and thick, unhurried movements. The light illuminating a perfect circle around his crotch, one that quivers every time he flinches, twitches, and trembles. The sensation of being objectified - being turned into a canvas that must remain perfectly, absolutely still - or else. I'm entranced. I'm so entranced I offer to read back my notes, which I do to the soft, faint chorus of his whimpers and her blade.

"The thing I think is interesting about you," she muses, cutting into the silence after hearing my recounting, "is that everything we do is about intensity. Insertion. Everything we do is about going inside and pulling out. Or putting things from the outside in." She's talking to him, but he's gone, lost in a deep pleasure state, so she turns to me instead.

The shaving scene ends after a dreamy hour, and she moves him to the bed. He's moaning softly, stroking himself lightly, still in a daze. She approaches him in a slow, stalking motion, climbing onto the bed and clutching her hand around his neck. The gesture is at once threatening and intimate, somewhere between a hug and an attempt at murder. She lowers herself down next to him and stretches her hand over his torso. She's draped dramatically on the bed, her gown splaying out, like a murderous wife waiting for the poison she's slipped her husband to kick in. "You're so smooth" she coos.

She crawls down to the edge of the bed and fetches her supplies. Alcohol prep pads, needles, gloves are arranged between his legs, he watches her eagerly. She turns on her music, realizing only now that we've been in silence this whole time. Cocteau Twins' "Heaven or Las Vegas" coos from the speakers, the sun is lower, the vibe has shifted. Part Two.

Lounging beside him but propped up so that her face and hands were near his groin, she starts tying his balls. He's stroking her body with his open hand, searching for skin, fabric, form to touch. "I love seeing your balls like this," she remarks playfully, gazing at them. She pulls out her needles and strokes his shaft lightly with the edge. 

I want to love, I've all the wrong glory

But is it Heaven or Las Vegas?

But you're much more brighter than the sun is to me

The first needle slides in and his whole body contorts. He lets out a deep "owwww" and his face scrunches in agony. A second needle, he groans with it, sighing out until it breaks free from the other side. She moves aside, revealing that the needles are woven through his frenulum in and out twice – the two perfectly stacked, so that his skin stretched taut. The pattern looked like the start of a particularly sinister basket weave. He's clutching her leg for support, hugging her thigh as if it's a boyfriend pillow. His face is wincing, as he emits pained groans to which she only laughs. "Oh you love it. Two needles and he's already whimpering." She puts on a pouting face to mock him: "Ow! Ouchie!" 

"Have you ever seen someone pierce a taint?" she asks me, causing him to grasp desperately at her leg for support. She inserts two needles one after the other to criss-cross across his taint and then drives her thumb into it, causing him to moan. "See - now the prostate is on the outside!" His whining and panting stops at last and the moment he catches his breath he asks, "Do you think I need another needle in my dick?" A leading question, we laugh. "This one's a funny one" Wu exclaims, eying me, "He acts like he's in so much pain and then you realize he's just greedy. I think you need another needle, don't you?" He nods, hungrily. More needles driving into his cock, weaving her way through his skin to the sounds of his pleas.

Interested in exploring your own fantasies?