Sado-Botany: Flying or Dying Today?

I, Belladonna, stride confidently into the Dungeon, The Torture Palace, elegant, beautifully manicured hands swinging gently at my sides. I shrug my long dark hair over my shoulder to make it tumble and ripple down my spine. I nod to the pit, smile a greeting to the subs cuffed and chained to the walls there. My eyes narrow to small slits as I notice one male sub, glaring at me. I raise an eyebrow into a fine, high arch, then realize the source of his confusion; my clothes. I look down to admire my turquoise blouse, the lush, softly draping folds of a fine quality fabric, the finger-grazing floaty sleeves. A smile twitching at the corners of my lips as I appreciate my own matching ankle length raw silk skirt.

"Not what you expect of a Dominant, perhaps?"

I smile broadly at you, a long red tipped finger crooked, beckoning to you to come to me. I

lean in, my breath hot on your ear, my nostrils flaring in appreciation as I smell the warmth and the sharp citrus notes of lemon shampoo. I press my nose to your lovely dark locks and drink your scent in hungrily. My voice low, menacing "I don't need a uniform to show the world I am Dominant. I just AM." I slowly appraise your body, starting with your feet, my eyes scanning over the hard, firm muscles in your calves and thighs, a flicker of excitement deep down in my belly, as I realize you bare a striking resemblance to owen.

Sitting back in my chair, icy cold fingers strumming silently on the arm rests. I watch you, my body still, relaxed, my face blank, unreadable. Raising slowly to a stand, with careful tread of bare feet, toes curling to grip the floor as I silently move around your body; inspecting it. An icy cold palm reaches out to smooth your hair down, a slight smile of satisfaction, pleased with your glossy waist length dark locks. So similar to owen's. "You will do, owen." A small hand darts out grabs you by the throat, using my speed and full body weight. Your shock working against you, pushing you down to the bed and pinning you there by the throat. The tip of my nose pressing against yours, my fingertips sinking into the soft, yielding flesh of your throat, dark blue eyes burning anger:

"Always expect the unexpected with me." I pull my arm back to shoulder height, slapping your cheek, leaning into the slap with my full weight and force behind it. Cringing at the sickeningly sweet sound of impact."Do you know what I can do to you? Is this what you expected?"

I encircle your tender, vulnerable throat with both hands, slowly squeezing the breath from your body. My eyes fascinated, watching yours bulge, pretty red stress lines appearing. "I can do whatever I want to you and you will beg me to do it." I release the pressure on your throat, watching you coughing and gasping for air, amusement dancing across my eyes. "You are mine, today, now, you are mine to do what I want with!" The sharp stings of slaps rain down on your face. Each one carefully positioned to land on top of the last. Your cheeks glowing bright red as raised crimson hand shaped welts appear. "Do you even know who you are? What you are?" I grab your long hair, bundle it up and tie it into a tight knot. Holding the base of the ponytail close to your head, I yank you to your feet.

"You want this don't you?"

A small bare foot swings back, kicks you behind your knees so you drop heavily to the floor with a stomach churning thud. The remains of your ponytail still grasped in my hand. "Do you want me to be nice to you owen?" I open my small, icy cold palm, inspecting the thick mess of black hair there, I press my foot on the back of your skull. Twisting the ball of my foot in half-circles like putting out a cigarette so your face crushes painfully into the floor. "I am going to be nice." I coo in a gentle voice. I crouch down, grabbing the ponytail and raise your eyes to mine. Kissing you gently on the tip of the nose, then forcing your lips apart with my fist and shoving the ripped out hair into your mouth. Holding your jaws shut.

"You are mine! I can see it in your eyes, you want me, you want this, you don't want me to stop do you? Get up onto your hands and knees." I hiss, my voice deep, husky. "Belladonna (Atropa Belladonna) is a totally fascinating plant, the legend that witches flew on broomsticks is because they spread belladonna on their broomsticks and used it as a vaginal pessary. Belladonna will make you fly, she will teach you or she will kill you!" I swing my arm back into an arch and slap your buttock hard. Slapping each tight cheek in turn, every time in exactly the same place, where your arse cheeks join the tops of your thighs. Pulling you back up into position by the hair each time your body sags or the adrenaline screams for you to move. Shaking my fingers as they sting from the intensive slaps.

"Kneel! Then don't fucking move."

I reach into my bag, with delicate fingertip touch, carefully unwrap the thick, fleshy, white root, inspecting the fresh, dark green leaves, crushing them and wincing as they exhale an offensive stench. Carefully lining up three smooth shiny black berries the size of wild cherries. Secreting a fourth in my small fist, careful not to squash it. I lower myself to my knees, lean in, tenderly smoothing your hair back into place, I smile warmly at you. A small hand clamps over your mouth, leaning you back into me, supporting your weight on my chest. Placing the Belladonna berry carefully on the floor, where you can see it. Using those two fingers to squeeze your nose tight shut. Cradling you in my arms. Ensuring the hand over your mouth is sealed tight. I watch you gasp for breath, leaning in to whisper;

"Is this what you expected of me? Is this what you came for?"

My eyes glassy, empty, cold, watching you struggle. Then with a happy laugh, letting you go. "The juice of the berries is dark, inky and intensely sweet. They say it is the Devil's own plant." I smile sadistically, amusement dancing happily and obviously in my darkening blue eyes. "Get the dosage wrong and they will cause paralysis in some parts of the body, a complete loss of voice and make you into a puppet. Belladonna victims bend strangely forward from their waist and their fingers and hands move continuously" I carefully pick up the jet black berry, delicately and slowly rolling it between my index finger and thumb. "Either that or death!" I laugh

"Is this what you expected of me? Is this what you came for?"

My eyes, dark, hooded, hungry with desire, watch as the purple-black juice slicks my thumb. I clamp your cheeks between my thumb and fingers, squeezing your mouth into a pout, forcing your jaws open. Raising the berry-slicked thumb to your lips, my thumb-tip poised at the inviting opening. "Belladonna takes the form of an enchantress of exceeding loveliness but it is dangerous or even deadly to look upon her. It is the same with taking the plant. You fly or die." I laugh and drag the berry-sweetened digit slowly over the pulpy softness of my own lip, then leaning in, kisses you fiercely. "If you get the dosage wrong, the nerve endings in involuntary muscles are paralysed, the paralysis finally affecting the central nervous system, causing excitement and delirium." I smile encouragingly "Or... death!"

My hand darting out to slap your face as you reel from shock, gripping you tightly by the throat, squeezing, slowly squeezing, mildly amused by you struggling again for breath. Your tears. "Help me to help you! Is this what you expected when you saw me for the first time today?" I pick up the fleshy white root, slowly dragging it down the soft curve of your cheek. My eyes fixed on yours, watching them grow bloodshot, watching them bulge, challenging you. With a shrill, delighted laugh, carefully place the root back on the table. I sink small white teeth into your cheek, biting harder, my hand pressing firmer and firmer, you gasping for breath, turning a beautiful deep puce colour. Tears running freely down your face.

"Help me to help you! Is this what you came for? Is this what you expected of me?"

I snort a ball of spit from the back of my throat, turning it over in my mouth, spit it into your face in disgust as I release your throat and return my attention to Belladonna. "What do you reckon to 2 grams of the powdered root or 2 berries? Is that enough or too much do you think? Now shall it be flying or dying today?" I look deep into your tear-filled eyes, registering the fear, the shock, the pain, I smile broadly and declare triumphantly.

"Yes , this is what you came for isn't it!"

With heavy hooded eyes, I pick up the broom, crushing two shiny black pearls of Belladonna between my fingers and smearing the delicious, intense juices over the end of the shaft. "With me, always expect the unexpected! Now I am bored with you. You may return to the pit where eudaimonia will provide you with your aftercare." Totally ignoring the boy. Belladonna has my full, ecstatic attention. The first real signs of joy lighting up my face. Animating it. Excitement bubbling in my belly, making me tremble. With fingertips grabbing the hem of my ankle-length skirt, discretely sliding the broom handle up deep into the moist heat of my cunt. Flopping back onto the couch, as my eyes glaze, a mist descends, my own hands piling my own long ebony hair on top of my skull, my own long, icy cold fingers gently stroking the nape of my neck.

I am walking barefoot in a forest clearing, a Belladonna plant shimmering in the early morning light. Her leaves glossy, dark green, small shiny black berries illuminated by a shaft of September sunshine. "Belladonna! Beautiful Belladonna! Will you fly, will She teach you or might She just kill you?"

I slip off into the unknown and unexpected.

By Eudaimonia Optera 23 May 2009