Goddess Sydney

There are few things I love more than the pleasure of a masochist kneeling before me. I crave the unrelenting back and forth between a sadist and a masochist, the visceral hunger that consumes us both until we are satiated. Gifting an eager and willing masochist with pain, watching as they get turned on by my viciousness, and getting turned on by how deeply they crave to suffer for my pleasure… it is a closed circuit that sustains its self, electric and pulsing. It is such a sublime exchange of power, to be trusted with someone’s tender flesh, and to push that flesh to its limits over and over again. Watching as their pupils dilate, their pulse quickens, and their breath changes… acknowledging I will be striking, pinching, whipping, slapping, biting, poking at any moment. As much as they crave it, they also fear it. They fear what they have brought upon themselves, but like a moth to a flame they cannot resist the submission that inevitably follows my loving infliction of pain. Deeper and deeper I go, crawling into their mind, desecrating their body, and getting turned on by their consent, as I run my fingers across their skin, letting my intuition guide me to their tender places. I crave those places… the ones that open them up, that release sensation unparalleled, flooding the body with endorphins and making them high for my sadistic touch. These places they wish they could escape most days, but they will face them, for me, for Goddess.

A show of devotion has never been so sweet as the sight of a whipped sub kissing my feet, thanking me for my cruelty, my tender kiss of dominance caressing them so effortlessly. Merciless in my aim and eager for markings, I love to cane and whip more than any other corporal punishment. I love the impact it makes on them, the marks it leaves. The pride they feel in wearing my stripes, the pleasure I feel in seeing them… it’s intoxicating. I am skilled with a whip, having first learned how to use one when I was much younger than 20, and I am always practicing, growing, striving to be better and even more precise, because my targets are now made of flesh.

One evening, I was at a kink party hosted by the most lovely Domina Irene Boss, and I had a sub strapped up to a St Andrew’s cross, and I was whipping his dick. I was so focused I only missed my mark twice and struck him on his thighs, probably a welcome reprieve from my relentlessly accurate aim. A crowd started to gather as I continued, he was loving it and staying as still as possible as I had warned if he moved I couldn’t guarantee where the strike would land. It went on for nearly an hour, this exchange between sadist and masochist, Domme and sub, a dance of sorts, our energies flowing together. The caress of my whip brought him to life, my mind was high from his pleasure at receiving my whips kiss. I was pleased with is performance and when I finally stopped and un-cuffed his wrists, he fell to his knees vigorously kissing my boots and thanking me. We stayed like that for quite some time, his reverence and gratitude for the gift of pain I gave him satiated my hearts desire and my hunger was quelled, at least for a short while.