Mistress Sidonia's Femdom Blog

Mistress Vivienne l’Amour at Circus Maximus: Sodom & Gomorrah in Aug 2023 ~ Photo by Fetish Filming

Circus Maximus hosted by Miss Vivienne l’Amour runs alternative, themed events for fetish players and swingers. Kink play (RACK) is encouraged at their friendly, party atmosphere nights. See Here & Here

An Initiate To Circus Maximus #2

Mistress Sidonia’s collared slave’s real experience as a first-time attendee at Circus Maximus: Sodom & Gomorrah in Aug 2023 hosted by Mistress Vivienne l’Amour.

IV

My baptism with Mistress’ waters over, and purified by her whip, she led me back downstairs to the main hall. The party was proceeding apace. Pockets of partygoers were enjoying themselves in their own inimitable ways. The night was hot and the activities within greatly exacerbated the heat.

Mistress led me down the passage, checking the various rooms. I wondered what might possibly happen next. Perhaps nothing, or perhaps everything. Such was the nature of the event. Mistress stopped at a doorway and tugged me over. The sight that greeted me was Sodom and Gomorrah writ large, in every sense! Pure, undiluted hedonism was the exquisite spectacle.

A double gang bang was underway. One slave girl was being fucked doggie style on a bed. Another lady was being filled on the back on the bed. The hostess, Mistress Vivienne, was overseeing the proceedings. She asked one of the slaves if he was inside as the angle was awkward. He replied with gusto, “No, but don’t worry I’m fisting her Mistress.”

Another finely toned Bull was given a ten second countdown to get a condom on and get inside the lady’s arsehole. Mistress Sidonia had stepped to the foot of the bed, pulling me over. The scent of musky sex hung heavy in the air. One of the ladies was clearly gagging for it orally, hoping her last hole would be filled.

Mistress took stock of my bearing. I wasn’t ready. Stage fright as she so rightly ascertained. And yes, I was simply overawed. In any case a willing volunteer was found. The slave girl now had every hole filled. The pulsating rhythm and sheen of bare flesh was something to behold. It was fucking primal. The orgy was ongoing. So was our odyssey.

Mistress took me to the photo room where she had her photo taken. I gladly obliged as her stool. It was sublimely erotic to be used in this fashion – a piece of furniture – a prop – to further the greatness of my Owner. I was also honoured with a photo, in which I tried to be as contrite as possible. The backdrop of the neon Hell sign was emblematic.

Later we arrived at another room. A scene was being set up and the anticipation was palpable. A Mistress was prepping herself and her cucked property was taking up position on a bed. A Bull was getting into position and his prominent stiff proboscis was clearly evident under his boxers.

Without any warning, Mistress shrilly ordered me onto my knees in front of him and told me to lick his cock. I fell to my knees. His sheathed cock filled my view, obliterating everything else. Gingerly I took hold of its base. Its stiffness was emphatic – an exclamation punctuation for the entire night.

A portion of its bare flesh was exposed through aslit. My tongue glided over the exposed expanse. His scent was all encompassing, and I expected it to soon permeate me further as I took him in my mouth.

However, Mistress let it go as far as a lick, and no further. Nevertheless, it was a moment and it further defined me. I was on my knees and prepared to suck cock for her. In a night of watersheds, another had been passed……

Epilogue

The harsh glare of early dawn was unforgiving as I gingerly made my way back into vanilla world. I wasn’t the same person coming back into it as I was before I entered the world of Circus Maximus. To use perhaps the parlance of the motor yard in which I had feared myself stranded the evening before, my pervery had, in effect, moved up a gear.

As I waited at East Midlands airport my mind was awash with a jumble of images from the night. I would have to order them and articulate the experience but that would come later. The sensory delights were still very much with me.

Towards the end of the evening, Mistress had unleashed me to do some wandering on my own. I caught the end of the gang bang and a sublime foot worship session that the ‘The H’ did with a slave.

The sense of dislocation didn’t really hit until I arrived back into Dublin airport and commenced the drive home. All I wanted to do was just to get under a sheet and wank myself silly. I found the light of early morning nauseating and I couldn’t relate to anything around me. The only saving grace on Sunday was that I was somewhat tired from the night. Monday was an even tougher proposition, and my mind was not tuned in any way to work.

I moved amongst my work colleagues, and occasionally I thought that if only they knew what a slut they were in the company of. I wore panties and brandished the marks on my arse with pride. At that stage I actually wish Mistress had beat me more and had employed me to even greater effect. I felt like being an utter fucking whore and I desired greatly company that would expedite that. This remained with me all week even as my focus returned to the minutiae of everyday life.

I got out and ran every day, the exercise and fresh air being something of a salve to my voracious filthy appetites. I looked up people with whom I could session with in Dublin and resolved to do something with one or two of them in the coming weeks. I wanked vociferously to the memories that kept cascading down my consciousness. In all this a clarity was affirming itself.

I had loved the club, the frisson of stepping outside the ‘normal’ conventions of society and into a world of kink, filth and wonder. It was akin to a child being let loose in a sweet shop – Willy Wonka or in this case Willy Wanka. To be in the company of such contemporaries at Circus Maximus was the stuff of dreams.

My perv instincts had asserted themselves from an early stage. Then came a period of denial as I tried to be ‘normal.’ Then came the altogether necessary readjustment as I assimilated it into my life, thereby greatly enriching it. Now at this stage, I want to be an even greater whore, slut, slave, whatever best describes it. My training continues. I will do anything for my Owner. I will follow her orders to the letter.

My slut manifesto was sanctified amidst the lashes of her whip, and the stream of her piss down my throat. I want to be a bitch on my knees, performing utter filth as she ordains it. I am an instrument for my Owner – here only to please her and to realise her world view and order.

by slave p
This is a partly fictional account of a Circus Maximus party based on some real & some imagined events.

Read Pt 1

Mistress Sidonia at Circus Maximus: Fangtasia Oct 2023 ~Photo by Fetish Filming

Circus Maximus hosted by Miss Vivienne l’Amour runs alternative, themed events for fetish players and swingers. Kink play (RACK) is encouraged at their friendly, party atmosphere nights. See Here & Here

An Initiate To Circus Maximus #1

Mistress Sidonia’s collared slave’s real experience as a first-time attendee at Circus Maximus: Sodom & Gomorrah in Aug 2023 hosted by Mistress Vivienne l’Amour.

I

Casting about like a lost sheep in the outer darkness, in the middle of a mechanic’s yard, I could hear music pulsating close, yet the whereabouts of Circus Maximus seemed strangely elusive, like a promised mythic land just over the horizon, yet forever out of reach.

The urban landscape of the yard created a brief sense of displacement and disorientation, and the earlier sense of anticipation was briefly muted, as I tried to ascertain the source of the music. Mistress’ directions had indicated a far corner entry point, and I realised I was in the wrong yard as I sought this corner. Exiting the yard and walking back down the road two figures emerged silently from the gloom like spectres from Hades. Fishermen, I thought, and not likely partygoers, so I continued into the next yard.

Again, the industrial feel of the yard seemed uninviting and disorientating. Undeterred, however, I made for the far-right corner and there it was – a portal to another dimension. I couldn’t quite believe I had reached this point, the glow emanating from the door enveloped me, the anticipation of what lay beyond was simply intoxicating.

I had to wait briefly whilst other people were admitted and then I was in. I had stepped over the threshold to another dimension, a Shangri-la of colour, kink, decadence, filth and exotica. I was both excited, apprehensive and yet entirely comfortable. The visceral assault on my senses was immediate, heightened by the hot tub on my right and the first glimpses ahead of the club and its utterly alluring denizens.

I knew instinctively that I had affirmed something to myself – I had wanted to be a whore, a bitch and a slut, and entering Circus Maximus was a foundational step in cementing my status, if only even to myself.

As per Mistress’ instructions, my immediate goal was to seek her out and there she was. Coming into the orbit of her presence was a surreal moment and, in my awe, I omitted the customary act of dropping to my knees in recognition of her dominion.

She quickly took me in hand, directing me to the cloakroom. There I stripped under her supervision, gladly and enthusiastically discarding my vanilla façade and embracing what I knew was my true self. This was crystallising to me in a way it had never previously. I was finally in the milieu of kindred spirits and in an arena in which the instincts which I had always had from a young age had finally found their natural outlet.

In my earlier years, I had sometimes felt like a bit of a freak, a feeling fed by my deviations from the ‘normal conventions’ of a seemingly straight-laced societal environment. As a much wider world presented itself, that feeling had become diluted until it had largely disappeared, despite the occasional tinge of guilt.

And even this guilt I had learned to use to enhance the richness and pleasure of my perversity. Now, as I entered the embrace of Circus Maximus, and as Mistress took me in her charge, I knew how fortunate I was to be finally in a promised land of which I had long dreamed………

II

Mistress Sidonia stood before me, her powerful, dominant and charismatic aura now made flesh. The heat was somewhat oppressive, and I was conscious of the fact I was sweating because of it and probably also with the excitement of entering the club and getting kitted out. The sense of anticipation was high. I had got a brief glimpse of the club upon entry and now I was going to enter its exotic chambers.

A brief detour to the bar took place before Mistress guided me into what I regarded as the main hall. I recognised some of the faces such as Mistress V and I meet a gladiatorial looking DD. My mind tried to process all I was seeing. It was like a child entering a sweet shop. Complete sensory overload – a visual and psychological experience, quite unlike any other. What also struck me was the relaxed atmosphere and the friendliness and easy-going nature of the attendees I was encountering.

Mistress guided me upstairs. I picked my steps carefully, finding my feet as it were in the boots. I felt like a slut and it was satisfying. The corset, the boots and skirt and the wings were working well I thought, and it may even have added to a little strut in my walk. Earlier I had feared that I had not prepped enough as regards my outfit, but now at least I was satisfied that it was working.

I recognised the second level from the luscious movies I had viewed. It was here that Mistress leashed me. The attachment of the collar was a seminal moment – sealing as it were, in my view, my standing as a putative slave and slut, ready to be led and used in whatever fashion she ordained.

Mistress pulled the lead and I yielded, following her again. From my own perspective the act of being leashed and led on a lead really reduced me in a visceral sense to that of being her property – a slave ready to serve and to be used on her whim. I was no longer the master of my own destiny but had given myself over to a powerful dominant woman who decided my every physical movement and who would hopefully break me down and rebuild and remould me as she wished.

We gathered for the slave auction – something Mistress had kindly considered me for, but which in my novitiate state I felt I might not just be ready yet. As the auction wore on and my confidence gradually increased, I felt I could have done it. In hindsight it was just a matter of getting comfortable and more immersed in the club.

The attendees and potential bidders all gathered around the platform. Mistress pointed out the slave cage where the slaves to be auctioned had all been placed. The heat, the pulse of bodies, the anticipation all led to an atmosphere of delicious decadence.

The master of ceremonies got the proceedings underway, and the slaves were called from the cage and introduced. It was literally redolent of what it must have been like back in that day – the selling of human bodies, in this case for potential kinky utilisation. The slaves poured forth from the cage, strutting their stuff on the platform, the breath bated just before bidding got underway.

The first appearance for me of the hostess, Mistress Vivienne, in her slave duo role with Mistress V, was another watershed. Here finally was this extraordinary Mistress in the flesh. Her appearance made the wildness of the night even more manifest. Mistress brought my attention, and that of the room, to some nefarious goings on in the cage. A slave girl was being spit roasted. It was a sight to behold – the thrusting of the guy fucking her and her lasciviously sucking of the proffered cock.

When her turn came to be auctioned, the jeers of “used goods” underlined the inherent good humour underpinning the event. The auction ended and the crowd dispersed. The next phase of the evening was about to begin and I awaited Mistress’ tug on my lead…….

III

As the crowd slowly scattered, I spotted a participant dressed in the attire of a monk. I allowed myself a wry smile. I had initially hoped to bedeck myself in a monk’s robes which, combined with the boots and the lingerie, might have made an interesting juxtaposition. It would to me at least anyway. I had gone to a school run by Trappist monks, and the idea of dressing as once for Sodom and Gomorrah held a certain appeal. I’d burn in hell for it, I’m sure!

The damnation of my soul aside, monasteries always held a certain fascination for me, as being windows into a medieval world – a slice of a long bygone age where they still existed. And for me the slave auction had a real medieval tone and feel to it, which I positively adored.

Now it was over, and the rest of the night awaited. Mistress yanked my lead and brought me to the platform upon which the slaves had so recently paraded. I had no idea what she had in mind, and I conjured up any number of possibilities. This was the essence of her power over me – the ability to control me at every level and decide my use.

She commanded me to bend over, with my arms placed on the platform and my arse jutting out. Her designs for me quickly became apparent as she took stock of my rump. I flinched briefly as my flesh reacted to feel of the short whip casually traversing by cheeks, sizing up its quarry.  Then it was lifted, and I knew my next encounter with it would not be as casual or seemingly benevolent. It wasn’t. Mistress cracked it across my pale cheeks in one quick emphatic swoop. I grimaced as the sting of it hit home and in the certain knowledge this was just the beginning. I tried to gird myself for what was to come.

She toyed with me, running its tail against my arse cheeks before lifting it for the next crack. Those seconds of waiting before the approaching lash, wondering how severe it might be, were moments in which her power was really distilled for me. This was one of the fundamental traits of being a slave, in my opinion, the capacity to take a beating at the hands of your Owner.

A few more lashes ensued, and my arse began to get that sore feeling. Mistress then asked me to hold the whip in my mouth, no teeth. Upon her return she commanded me to stand and led me back down the stairs. The imperative here was to mind my steps in the high heeded boots. It was here that Mistress introduced me to Mistress Vivienne as she came against us on the stairs. Somewhat starstruck, and my mind processing all that had just occurred, I was tongue tied.

We continued down and Mistress in her kind benevolence gave me a tour of the chambers and rooms on that level. I recognised a number of them from the films I had viewed. My favourite perhaps was the office with the bookshelves and the glory hole. The bedrooms held an undisputed attraction also.

We eventually made our way back upstairs. Again, Mistress bent me over and administered the whip briefly. However, as she ordered me to stand, I realised my reprieve was only temporary as she led me to the X cross. It looked as if the beating up to now might just have been the prologue. She tied my wrists, and I stood in the sure knowledge of what was to come. Again, she draped the tail over my arse, the preface to the lash which was coming. The sights and sounds of the club receded into the background as I awaited that sharp sting of pain.

And it came and came again. The moments of waiting were insufferable and sublime. The lashes increased in intensity. Through the soreness and pain, my mind recognised it was a purifying experience, one which I was lucky to experience at the hands of my Owner. Mistress told me I deserved one really good one and I took in a breath waiting. Strangely it did not come though, as the next one was pretty much at the same intensity as that which had preceded it.

The beating over, she untied me and led me back to the platform. She met another slave she knew and conversed with him. Then she ordered us both to lie on our backs on the platform. She stepped up onto the platform and stood over the other slave’s mouth.

What ensued was beyond breathtaking. Mistress pissed into his mouth like there was no tomorrow. The volume of her shower was amazing, only equalled by the slave’s ability to take it. I couldn’t believe it and had to twist for a better look. I was really in awe of him for how much he could take.

She then stepped over to me, above my cock and balls and proceeded to piss on my panties. The warm gush of her piss hit its mark and the sensation defied description. However, a further baptism was on the cards. She stepped up over my mouth and I opened it to take the shower. It found its target. The taste of it was sensational and I endeavoured to take as much as I could. I raised my head in order to get as much as I could. I didn’t want to miss a drop, which I invariably did of course. I was like a craven animal for it. I really couldn’t believe it. I had long fantasised about drinking my Owner’s piss and the reality far exceeded the fantasy.

It was sublime, beautiful, dirty and utterly decadent. It was an epiphany for me. I knew and understand in that instance the core of what I was – a slut, a whore, a slave and a bitch to be used as Mistress saw fit. The act marked me and the territory of my physical and mental being was no longer my own.

by slave p
This is a partly fictional account of a Circus Maximus party based on some real & some imagined events.

Read Pt 2