The Ritual: Rite of Passage
by Fräulein Angelina
The Mother Performs the Sacred Ceremony on Her Son
He is led into the darkened room, lit only by some candles that reveal a low altar displaying the Holy Book and what looks like a metal bowl. The servant takes him right up to the bottom of the platform at one end of the room, where the priestess awaits him. As he is asked to kneel down in front of it, she sits high above him. Two candles to either side of her throne flicker and throw shadows onto her face, which is also obscured by a hood. She is wearing a long cape made of lace. Her face is solemn, but also warm and understanding. He is still blindfolded, so he can't see any of this, but he can already sense the significance and poignancy of the situation, and he is both anxious and excited for the ritual to begin. He can hear the choral playing, and he smells the incense that is being burnt for him, in his honor, for the most important night of his life. Because this is not an ordinary mass or ceremony. This is his initiation, and in its process he will no less than become a man and leave his boyhood behind.
She, his beloved Mother up there on the throne - oh how he knows the voice so well! - commands the servant to loosen his blindfold and himself to bow his head and lower his eyes to the floor.
She then explains – and it takes all his strength not to look up to her, into her most beautiful face, her hands and breasts and legs that he has been dreaming of since he was a little boy – in a soft but determined voice, what he already knows: that the holiest figure of the Universe is, of course, The Goddess, „Our Mother“.
His mother starts reciting the holy prayer he knows so well, „...who is in Eternity, Holy is Your Name“, while he still kneels before her, „Your Femdom come, Your Will be done“, and every now and then trying to sneak a peek at her.
When she has finished, she slowly steps down and pours candle wax onto his naked body, to set the seal on the last „Amen“.
Before he understands what is happening, she has him in a firm grip, pulls him over to a basin and pushes his head under water for what seems like an eternity. When he comes up, gasping for air, she lovingly smiles at him, whispers „take the sacrament of baptism, my son“, then forces his head under water once more. He tries to count the seconds, but has to stop when he gets to one hundred and fifty, as he is about to black out. When she finally pulls his head up and out of the basin, she embosoms him (into her arms) and dries him off with a soft towel.
She then informs him that in order to enter the stage of manhood, he will first have to confess his sins to her. He will then be punished for his sins, and hard, as the initiation can only take place with a pure, immaculate soul.
He confesses his biggest, most secret sin – his longing for his mother's body before due time. How he wasn't able to get the fantasies out of his head, fantasies of her naked body and what she would do with him and – even worse – what he would do with her. There is no doubt that he has failed to keep a clear, innocent mind. But the pain he consequently has to endure for his sins will brush his guilt away, just as tonight's ritual will rinse off his boyhood and let him enter the next stage of his life: Maturity. Manhood. At last!
His mother, the priestess, approaches him with two beautiful roses in her hands: a white rose and a red rose.
The white one, she explains, symbolizes his childhood, his immaturity. She uses it to give him a mostly symbolic spanking with it, white petals flying to his left and right, then drops it in front of him and crushes it with her high heel.
The boy isn't any more. Trampled into the ground.
The red rose is then placed between his teeth. He has to hold it there, even though in the process of what is to come next, his jaw threatens to fall open:
She takes a few steps back, her eyes locked onto his. Her cape opens slowly. The hood falls. Her long red hair cascades down her shoulders and back, as she turns away from him in her long dress, then slowly, oh so slowly, lets the straps of this dress slide down her shoulders and arms to bare her back fully, then the cheeks of her beautiful round buttocks, her divine legs in sheer stockings and over knee-high boots, and then she turns around to reveal herself to him.
That night, pages of the Holy Book got soaked in Mother's holy water, which he then was fed single pages of; his naked body got blessed by her firm but loving hands, and his eager lips were – finally, after all those years of fantasizing and dreaming! – allowed to touch the most sacred parts of her body, before she then performed the actual initiation. (The rose, of mostly symbolic nature, was then still between his teeth, and he had to bite it hard.) He cried in the process, in a most delicious mix of emotions: pain, anxiety, gratitude, love and - lust.
As he finally became a man
writer: Fräulein Angelina