What first caught my attention looking at Mistress Blunt’s site was BDSM yoga. I had no idea what that meant, but it sounded so intriguing. I’ve played with femdom and BDSM before, and generally have always known what I wanted. But something about Mistress Blunt made me want to push myself further, into what she called high protocol. It seemed a little scary, reading about that level of control, but there was something inherently trusting about Mistress Blunt.
After a few email exchanges we agreed to meet in her dungeon in Brooklyn. I’ve been to dungeons in NYC before, usually dark and metallic places with people moving in and out. Mistress Blunt had a different type of dungeon, filled with wooden floors and open light. There was a sense of ease in Mistress Blunt’s dungeon, a sense of trust.
After a warm and friendly introduction, I bought up what I had seen on her site. She quickly explained to me the first step of high protocol training: a proper position on the ground. On my knees, sitting my feet, palms open on my thighs, head high, eyes bowed. BDSM yoga, she told me, would follow as I found my breath.
It’s important to remember at this moment I was just taking in her beauty. My eyes seemed to sink into her deep cleavage, held tight by a black leather corset, her eyes had a piercing gaze. Her lips were so full, her voice was so sweet. I had played with BDSM and femdom before, but somehow, naked and in my first high protocol position, my head was swimming with an energy I had never felt before. The aura Mistress Blunt projects is overwhelming.
Which made it tough to find my breath, at first. I wanted so many things at that moment—to stare into her cleavage, to touch myself, to stare into her eyes and tell her how badly I needed femdom, to kiss her shiny black boots. I was in the position, overwhelmed by the possibilities, and my breathing quickened.
Nothing happened. I kept breathing. I felt Mistress Blunt’s hand on my chest. My breathing slowed. All of the things I wanted in that moment suddenly vanished. Well, that’s not quite true. They didn’t vanish. I wanted to stare at her cleavage and I wanted to touch myself and I wanted
so many things. But this was high protocol: with her touch, I began to realize that my wants and my desires were irrelevant for this session. My wants and desires were irrelevant because her high protocol was so much more important.
We moved through BDSM yoga together. She bent my body into different positions, constricted my movement when she thought it was necessary. She let me gaze into her cleavage for the briefest of moments as she worked my body into a proper pose, and the battle became clear in my mind: it was between my own desires and truly allowing myself to be molded into her
creation. I let out a moan as I stared, their softness and power coalescing in my body as something untouchable, a goal beyond goals, the impossibility of her breasts and the softness of my mind. She laughed a little and tugged my head down.
I wasn’t able to completely master high protocol or BDSM yoga in my first session with Mistress Blunt. But the energy I felt within myself was an elevated high, almost running around as the session ended. Mistress saw this energy within me and it amused her, and she allowed me to
hump the floor for a minute as I touched her legs. Then she sent me on my way, dazed and desperately needing further control.