top of page

The Scent of a Dominatrix

Writer: Mx. NovatrixMx. Novatrix

The comments all begin the same...there's a deep inhale.

Part nerves, part desire and they breathe me in, close their eyes and look at me once more, but this time there's a distinct dilation of the pupils and a salivating of the mouth that's unmistakeable. Yes...there is the scent of a woman, but then there is the scent...

of a dominatrix.


My kind smell of a deep promise. The kind of promises you wish we wouldn't keep.

We promise to tempt you, deny you, train you, elevate you.

We promise to incur the understanding of desire and respect for divinity.

We promise to commune with you and through you.

We promise to dominate.


And this is why I come naturally.


My clientele always comment with their gratitude, "I'm grateful that you look and smell like a woman"...I correct them, "I look and smell like a God."


"I'm sorry Mxtress. You're right. You look and smell like God."


I continue,


"If I shaved you wouldn't remember my smell. It wouldn't be as strong or as prevalent. You wouldn't keep it in your mind the same way...it would leave you."

My hair holds my scent.

The very specific scent of steel orchids, black earth, red hot cinnamon and the salt of the ocean. My scent steals your awareness like Nova-caine and promises to never return it. You will always remember the way I smell and it will be your personal HELL trying to get that smell to linger in your senses for just a moment more.

My hair is my power and I will not shave it away. I own the texture of my hair in all the places on my body and if you come correct...you will breathe in a memory so old most of mankind has forgotten just how holy it is...you will breathe in the scent of a dominatrix.

I stay natural to remind you that I am a beast...as are you. Dangerous, wild, untameable and a mirror for the beast inside you...the one I'm torturing. The one I alone am willing to tame.

For a price."


"Please...Goddex...can I smell you? Can I...please?"


I laugh and look them in their dilated eyes.

"Nothing is free. Not even my scent."


If we can claim to touch divinity in the hallowed halls of church, then the scent of me is another kind of communion with the divine. Yes, you will breathe me in. You will know me by the smell of my body and you will never, ever be able to forget....to come correct.


Imagery by @Embody.Boudoir (visit their work at https://embodyphotography.mypixieset.com/)


DM me for options on getting unedited versions of this set.






 
 
 

Comentários


Subscribe Form

Your Submission is My Command!

  • Amazon
  • Instagram
  • Twitter

The services rendered herein are for entertainment and educational purposes only. Anything else that may or may not occur is a matter of personal choice between two or more consenting adults of legal age and is not contracted for, nor requested to be contracted for, or compensated for in any manner. I do not perform anything outside of the law.

©2020 by Confessions of an Ex-Mormon Domme. Proudly created with Wix.com

bottom of page