THE GATES

Davina

My name is Davina.  I recently celebrated my five year anniversary at The Gates and I would like to take this opportunity to share some of my thoughts and experiences with you.  What I offer here in writing does not encompass the whole of my desires nor does it detail all of my adventures in the realm of BDSM.  It is merely a beginning. 

On Bondage

He stands before me nude. I can see the goose bumps forming on his flesh though the room is warm. I unwind the length of rope and begin to bind his wrists. I feel the tension in his body. It grows with each turn of rope. He fights for self control, willing his body to stillness. I asked for this, he reminds himself silently.

He quivers with anticipation as I wind the rope around his torso. I look up from my work to meet his gaze and find that his eyes are closed, as if in meditation. I resume my work. I draw the cord down between his legs and he shudders involuntarily at the touch of it against his tender flesh. I place my hand on his shoulder and press down gently as I bid him to kneel. As I bind his ankles I see his hands working of their own volition trying to free themselves.

I step back for a better view of my work and its effects. He draws a deep breath and the binding grows tighter around his chest, cords cutting into his flesh. He looks up at me and his eyes are wide, showing white around their edges. I can feel the beginnings of a smile curving my lips. Whatever he sees in my face causes him to begin his struggle in earnest.  I sit back, content to watch him writhe for a while. Each muscle is taught, his body struggling against itself to be free of his bindings. He is drenched in sweat and his entire body is trembling like a leaf caught in a storm.

He begins to topple over and I catch him, laying him gently on the carpet. He lays there for a moment, his breath coming in great gasps, exhausted from his efforts. I kneel beside him and his eyes are like twin saucers in his face, giving me back my reflection in the dungeons dim light. My hair brushes his cheek as I bend down to whisper in his ear.  “What ever you want, mistress.” I echo the words he spoke to me not an hour ago. I run my finger along his exposed flesh. He whimpers.

On getting tattooed

            Getting tattooed is a unique experience. It is an act of submission, and a test of my will. The stranger sitting across from me may not even remember my name tomorrow, but we are about to engage in one of the most intimate experiences two human beings can share. In short, he is about to cause me a great deal of pain. I asked for this; I'm even paying for it. He'll do as I ask. He applies the transfer and I shiver in anticipation. I look at it in the mirror. It's perfect. I lie down and wait. I can hear the buzz of the gun, and the smell of the ink is a comforting and familiar one.

We begin.

            The touch of the needles biting into my skin is like a lover’s caress, long absent but not forgotten. I feel the lines taking shape one by one. The pain is exquisite, each stroke a searing point, etching this design into my flesh. Forever. The memory of this moment will last a lifetime.

It continues. I can no longer feel the individual strokes. My leg is on fire, a white hot agony that throbs in time to the beat of my heart. I take a deep breath and steady myself. This too shall pass. Later. The pain has mounted and it courses through my body like a burning wave. I am swept away on a tide of endorphins. I giggle and look down. The black lines look stark against the paleness of my skin. The edges are angry and red like the welts from a whip. It's beautiful.

He tells me my skin is starting to reject the ink. We are close to being done for today. He puts down the gun and sighs, standing back to contemplate his work. I feel a twinge of regret that it's over. Never mind, I will heal, there will be other days. I will revisit this moment because I'm not done, it's not finished.

Please contact me via email to arrange any switch/female submissive sessions.

Absolutely no brown showers, please do not ask.

25 years old, size 7 shoe, 5’4”, four medium tattoos, nipples pierced.

Photos by Dumas Photography and friends.