In Service to the Divine

In Service - a short series capturing one decadent night inside the House of Submission, where Dommes and their chosen servants gather in ritual, power, devotion, with a dash of debauchery.

My name is Mistress Dévine.

I am a dominant woman, a writer, and the creator of the House of Submission, a space built on sacred feminine authority, the philosophy of power exchange, and the belief that dominance, held with integrity, is transformative.

All of My work is free for the first seven days.

After that the House takes it back.

It holds it sacred for those who move with intention. Who are here for the depth of it. Who choose to support this work and everything it stands for.

If something in these pages has stirred something in you, you already know whether you belong here.

---

The four of you are lined up on your knees.

“Do you understand what is being asked of you tonight?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Do you come in service?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Are you clear on your consent and boundaries agreed before this party?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Does anyone wish to change them?”

“No, Mistress.”

I move slowly along the line, taking you in fully. Each of you selected with care. Strong, masculine bodies, now softened into something purposeful.

Each of you wears a collar.

Each collar marked.

Property of Mistress Devine.

“Hold out your masks.”

Four hands rise. Four offerings.

I take the first.

“You are nameless. You are My property. You will be in service to the women who arrive tonight. Do you agree?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

My manicured finger slides beneath your chin, lifting your face toward mine.

“Good boy.”

The mask lowers over your head. Breath shifts. Presence changes. An ego death in itself.

I move through each of you in turn. Same ritual. Same intention. Same quiet claiming.

“All of you, listen. You exist here as my property. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

Around my neck, four keys rest against my skin.

A small, private smile.

“You are caged for me.”

Their caged cocks squirm, pushing against the cold metal.

A pause.

“The women will arrive in thirty minutes. I expect everything prepared. Spotless. Drinks chilled. Platters arranged.”

My gaze sharpens.

“This will be a beautiful party. You will make it so. You will serve in devotion. In surrender. In submission. You were chosen by me.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Move.”

you drop to hands and knees, dispersing across the room. you will not stand tonight.

---

My bare feet glide over the cold marble floor, smooth and grounding, before sinking into the thick, soft rug that anchors the centre of the salon.

The room is exactly as I envisioned.

Deep red velvet chaise longues curve elegantly along the edges of the space. Candlelight flickers against every surface, warm and low. An ornate chandelier hangs above, dripping gold light that dances across crystal champagne flutes set neatly on polished marble.

Floral arrangements spill generously, roses, peonies, trailing ivy, softening the room with something lush and alive.

Then there is our play table, adorned with floggers, torture devices, electric stimulation, and a few straps for fun.

It is all indulgent.

It is all controlled.

It is all mine.

---

A snap of My fingers.

Servant One arrives instantly, lowering himself into position.

I sit.

He becomes My chair. Solid. steady. exactly where I need him.

I begin My makeup slowly, watching myself transform.

Each movement deliberate.

Each detail chosen.

My red lipstick glides on, rich and precise.

A mark of power.

A signal of the night ahead.

I stand, smoothing My pencil skirt, adjusting the latex body that hugs My breasts perfectly.

A click.

you are there.

Oil already in hand. Anticipating My every need, there is a reason he is My number one.

he glides it across the latex, bringing it to a flawless shine. Every curve defined under the candlelight.

“How do I look?”

A brief glance upward. Then stillness.

“Perfection, Mistress.”

A voice softened and muffled through a mask.

“Exactly.”

I take My scent.

Coco Chanel Mademoiselle.

Two sprays into the air.

I step forward into it, letting it settle across My skin.

Warm. Inviting. Certain.

---

I return to the centre of the room, the chandelier glowing above me.

I sit once more on Servant One.

A single click.

Servant Two appears, presenting a crystal champagne flute. Perfectly chilled. Bubbles rising slowly.

I take it.

Then two consequtive clicks.

Servants Three and Four move into place without hesitation.

They lower themselves at my feet as I extend my legs slightly, resting into the moment.

They know how I like My foot worship,. loving. tender. soft kisses and lucious laps of a tongue on the high arch of My foot.

Their attention is quiet, yet I feel their devotion.

For a moment I let go, I allow Myself to be indulged by My puppies. One holds Me stready, the other

The room hums softly around us. Cushions aligned. Surfaces gleaming. Every detail has been attended to.

I take a slow sip of champagne.

Ten minutes.

Ten minutes to sit in the space that once lived only in My mind.

Now it surrounds me.

Now it breathes.

Now it waits.

And soon…

It will come alive.

To be continued.