I was lured out of the city this past weekend by
Master R and
Mistress Collette of
La Domaine Esemar, and as a result spent a weekend in the country that continues to reverberate, and no doubt will for some time. As much as I'd like to reveal all the lurid details of the revelry that took place, I am holding back out of respect for a line on the
La Domaine website: "We insist that people at an Esemar party do not discuss the particulars of their party with anyone who was not in attendance." I will however say that their couples party is like no other party I've attended, and I'll give you my overall impressions.
La Domaine is one of a kind, at least here in New York, perhaps in the world. It is both a lifestyle and professional establishment that operates on the level of a highly structured D/s training household. The slaves in attendance were all incredibly well-trained, and (from my perspective, which is what matters!) worked quite well together despite varying levels of experience. There were a half dozen or so there for the sole purpose of entertaining and serving me (and the other guests, I suppose). It was made clear to me from the moment I arrived that I would have every need and whim catered to by any one of the slaves, all I needed to do was ask, though more often than not my needs were met or anticipated without a word. The grounds are beautiful and private, and the subterranean dungeon, um, yeah, fucking WOW. Any scenario imaginable is possible there. It's quite large and is filled with one-of-a-kind implements and custom made bondage furniture and torture devices. Some really fucking cool shit, bizarre shit, gorgeous shit, you name it. In fact, I dare you to try and come up with something they don't have or can't provide.
But more impressive than any physical aspect of La Domaine is the general atmosphere of the place. Master R and Mistress Collette somehow manage to create a warm, welcoming, comfortable environment, ideal conditions for self-exploration, self-exposure, self-realization, whatever you're open to, and they do it while seamlessly running a full staff of slaves who are on constant alert. The guests who gathered ranged from relative newbie to extremely experienced. We mixed easily, quickly falling into the vibe set in place by the Master and Mistress of the house. I felt spoiled, adored, worshiped—it was really fucking cool. Fuck yeah. I'll be back.
I realize this reads like a review. Deal with it. The fact is, ruminations and inspirations from the weekend keep coming back to me, like expanding ripples in still, dark water. Even if full disclosure was acceptable, it would be nearly impossible to accurately relate my experience at this point. But today is your lucky day, because somewhere in my thoughts about the weekend, this piece of fiction I wrote almost exactly a year ago popped into my head—a fantasy about a lifestyle BDSM dinner party. I was shocked and appalled at my having let it sit buried for so long, but now that I think about it, it was waiting for this kind of introduction. (FYI, it's much too long to post in entirety here, so the rest will be at
SeverineFeist.com.)
To be clear, this is absolute fantasy, written a year ago, inspired in hindsight by the revelry at La Domaine. It is only representative of what happened there this past weekend in terms of the sense of community and commitment to deviancy my characters share with the amazing group of people I met at the chateau. Enjoy—and that's a fucking order!
[Dinner.]
“Mistress, I don’t mean to ask for any special privileges, but if you would allow me the pleasure and honor, I would love to debut as your Third at a dinner party where I’m fully feminized and on display with your collar. I’ll create a five-course meal with everything I know to be your favorite, and I’ll serve it to you and your friends, or anyone you’d like to attend. If it’s more than six people, I can hire outside help, or I can work with a team of your subjects, whatever you prefer. And if you’d allow me, I’d sit at your feet and eat from a plate on the floor, only after everyone else has been served, of course.”
Alpha was delighted at the suggestion, and put together a guest list that included six seats at the table and an additional five places on the floor, for Three, One and Two, as well as for two more submissives that would be invited to come with her guests. One designed, created and hand-delivered the invitations, and waited while the six positive RSVPs were written and handed back. Alpha had only invited guests that she knew would be more than pleased to attend, and who would arrange their schedules to accommodate Three’s coming out dinner party.
Alpha’s place was at the head of the table, and there were cushions on the floor to her right and left, where One and Three would sit and eat. Two’s place was along the wall under the large window that overlooked Central Park, and there were two empty spots next to him.
Frederick arrived first and alone, giving off a high sheen partly from his twinkling smile but mostly from his latex, a long sleeved black top with matching jodhpurs.
“You’re not planning on eating much, are you, dear?” Alpha smiled at him as he came in and removed his overcoat, which Two took from him to hang in the front coat closet.
“You know I’m watching my girlish figure,” he winked and twinkled back. “Besides, you know it's either this, the catsuit or the body bag, and this is my most accommodating. I would never come out of dress code, you know that, doll.”
Alpha couldn’t blame him, as she knew his fetish wardrobe well from having played together as peers for the past several years. Frederick was a switch, and they were equals everywhere except behind the privacy of closed doors, when he was on the floor at her feet or as a target for the end of her single tail. He could take a whipping like no one else she knew, and she adored the way he smiled through every moment. Charming. If he wasn’t so masculine and such a non-submissive masochist, she would have found a way to work him into her top tier, giving One a run for his position. Fortunately for One, Frederick could never give up flirting with women while out at the monthly play parties, intuiting which were most likely to be switches, so he could play out his dominance, then bring them back to his place where he'd strip down and grovel at their feet in a not quite equal private power exchange. One knew this, and it gave him a massive crush on Frederick, which he had made obvious to Alpha after their first meeting by curtsying after they shook hands, then cowering away from Frederick and hugging Alpha’s ankles.
“If you’re a good boy, sweetie, I’ll give you a little piece of One for dessert later on,” she said with a wink.
“Mmm, hard to resist, I’ll think about that,” Frederick said, though they both knew that his interest in male subs was relegated to his random role in a forced bi scenario directed by a woman who was topping him. He considered himself to be heteroflexible, a term used by many in the scene that Alpha thought was hilariously nondescriptive.
The next two guests arrived, in the form of Kiki and her sissy slave Coco. Kiki squeeled out what was meant to be laughter combined with a greeting, and with a wild wave of her arms, threw herself around Alpha as she flung her coat towards Coco. Two instantly took the coat from Coco, hung it, and directed her to the floor next to the window, next to his spot.
“My love!” Kiki cried. “And look! It’s Freddie! Hello sweetie!” Kiki slammed against Frederick’s middle, and he picked her up to give her the requisite spin before setting her back onto her feet.
“Hello lovely, and look at you—just how did you manage to squeeze into that?” Frederick said, holding her hands and stretching her arms out so they could admire her, tiny, shiny pink and tightly wrapped as she was in Victorian brocade corsetry under an intricately laced long latex dress.
“Oh you know, Coco has become an expert in lacing, haven’t you, baby?” she said in Coco’s direction.
“Yes, Ma’am,” Coco said in a tiny voice, with legs folded neatly underneath her and hands on the floor. Coco was dressed in a black and white latex maid’s uniform and Mary Jane’s. Her face was pale with a heavy, artfully applied layer of makeup, accentuated with a beauty mark, rosy cheeks and lips in an exaggerated pucker of shiny red, topped off by a wig in the shape of a short black bob.
“Isn’t she so darling!” Kiki squeaked with a little hop. “She’s been very good, maybe we’ll let her perform for us later, shall we love?”
“Of course, if she serves well this evening. Here’s what she’ll do,” she explained to Kiki. "It’s Three’s night, as you know, so she’ll follow his instructions to the letter, serving and clearing and cleaning, because I know how well you’ve trained her. Then we’ll see how we feel around desert time.”
“Yes, yes, yes!” Kiki punctuated every syllable with hand claps. “As long as she has time to loosen my corset by an inch every hour, my love!”
Another knock at the door brought the remaining four guests. Sapphire and Lana were holding hands and a leash that was attached to their female submissive, Snack, who was kneeling behind them and holding their coats. Next to the trio was Clutch, who usually traveled with a slave or two in tow, but lately was taking a break from overseeing a stable. Not that he had given them up, but the way he played with and trained his constellation of female subs stationed in New York, five other states, and Canada, he was periodically exhausted and needed to abstain for weeks, sometimes months at a time. His subs waited patiently, delving into vanilla pursuits in avoidance of all things sexual, including masturbation, until he ended their sequester.
The next round of greetings were an unintelligible blend of “How are you?” and “I’ve missed you!” and “Aren’t you gorgeous!” and “You’re in trouble, you’ve been in hiding!” When the group disentangled enough for Two to determine which clothes were coats that needed hanging and which were still covering bodies, he did his job then stepped aside, bringing Snack with him to their place by the window.
“Sapphire, Lana, you two know Frederick, yes?” Alpha waved her hands in symphonic introduction. “And I know you do, Clutch, but have you met Kiki’s little Coco? Would you just look at how cute she is?”
At the mention of her name, Coco stood up, curtsied quickly and sat down, as Snack giggled and clapped her hands together.
“Oh, we know Frederick,” said Lana as she pinched Sapphire’s elbow. “Don’t we, darling?”
“Well, yes, yes of course we do!” laughed Sapphire. Frederick said nothing, just gave the slightest twinkle of a tooth but otherwise kept his mouth shut.
“We’ve all got stories to trade, don’t we?” said Clutch. “I can’t wait to get to the main course and hear all about this one. I can only imagine what kind of trouble you to have gotten into with Freddie. He’s such the slippery one, isn’t he?”
“Later, later, come now, it’s time to sit, it’s time for champagne and then it’s time for course one!” Alpha said, ushering them all to their seats.
continued...
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