This is a part of a larger “travel report style” work I’m making. The premise is that this journalist is traveling around this island nation that is based entirely on the dynamics between Master and Slave. Think of the Erensich-verse but completely ethical and not bound by gender. I’m aiming to create a rich world that makes logical sense but houses all my kinks. I’m also using that to make a backdrop for a slow burn romance between my two characters introduced here. The way this series will work is just the main journalist character reporting his experiences as he travels this country and meets different people. No kink is off limits save for illegal/dangerous ones (pedo, mutiliation, etc)
So I’m really looking for feedback and questions here. What excites you about this world? What questions do you want answered, where should this journalist go next? [Here](https://www.reddit.com/r/NSFWworldbuilding/comments/r2nu4w/creating_a_travelers_guide_for_a_bdsm_utopia_i/?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share) is a link to another post I made where I answered some cultural questions about this society but I really want to answer more. It helps me immensely if you leave a comment or a question.
An interview conducted at a Bacchanal
The Bacchanal is, in the Dionysian religion, equivalent to a church mixer. They are adults only affairs but the whole community turns out to play games, chat, and of course have an amount of public sex that would be considered obscene in any other culture. I will go into much more detail about what I witnessed at the later date but I wanted to share an interview I conducted with a temple slave, pardon me while I use her correct title, Novice Slave Bacchae by the name of Helena. Helena became my guide for the Temple and all things Dionysian and will no doubt show up later in this work. For the moment however, permit me to share just a snippet of our interview we conducted about Dionysian power structure and their surprisingly sentimental New Year’s traditions.
“Relax and rejoice, Master, for we both draw clean air today!” said the slave girl who greeted me at the door to the temple. She wore a red leather collar with the O ring I had come to expect on every slave I encountered. Draped elegantly from the collar were swags of small white chain.
Her smallish breasts were totally uncovered. Again, not an uncommon sight. Hanging from her nipples were two golden bells clamped on with very strong clamps. Lower down on her physique she wore a red garter belt that held up her stockings but exposed her smooth vulva.
On her head she wore a sort of wreath that was made to look like grape vines.
I walked in and was treated the sounds of normal conversation but mixed with moans of pleasure and shrieks of pain that would have surely been out of place in any locale but this one.
I walked through the arch way the slave girl bid me through and found myself in a massive room that felt at the same time a lounge and a sanctuary. At the front of the room was a small sort of stage with a large stone altar. There were ivy and grape vines everywhere. Corinthian columns lined what I’m going to refer to as the “chancel” as though this were a Cathedral. A large statue of Dionysus himself dominated the back of the chancel in what we will call, for our purposes, the apse. But the seating in this temple was made up of several half circle couches that wrapped around tables. This seating was populated with the adult members of the community all engaged in any number of lewd sexual acts. But at the same time also playing board games, a younger bunch were playing what appeared to be Mario Kart on a television in a far corner of the hall, and still others were watching temple dancers entertain on the tables.
“Master may walk around and partake in whatever he wishes provided He has the consent of all parties.” Came the voice of the Slave girl whom I had not noticed had followed.
“Oh um…thank you, Miss…”
“Master looks a little overwhelmed. Perhaps I shall accompany you?”
“Well…um…I don’t normally partake I am a…”
“Journalist, I know. We’re all very aware you’ve decided to write about our culture Sir. If I may say I think it is marvelous. So many in the outside world think we’re animals and most have a complete misunderstanding of Dionysian culture.”
“I…well yes…I think that is true. Very well, if you should wish to accompany me I would very much appreciate it. What do I call you?”
“Helena, Master, Novice Bacchae.”
“Oh, a Bacchae? You’re a priestess here?”
Helena laughed at that suggestion.
“Well, no, I assist in rituals and learn the doctrine but I am far from a full priestess. Like I said, only a novice.”
“Right. And still a slave?”
“Yes Sir!”
“So how does that work, are you property of a higher ranking…”
“The temple owns me..oh I am terribly sorry for interrupting Sir. I’m just excited to be meeting you and giving you a tour.”
“Please , no you’re fine, feel free to interrupt as much as you please. I am at your mercy here. So what does it mean to be a slave Bacchic novice.”
“Well it means that I will be taking part in the more submissive or menial aspects of Dionysian ceremonies. Right now I serve the wine, set tables, clean up. That sort of thing. It’s kind of grunt work. Someday I want to be a temple dancer though. I’m taking lessons.”
“Ah a dancer! And what does a temple dancer do?”
“They…dance during ceremonies. Sometimes they dance for the couple at weddings, they perform on various holy days.”
“Oh really, would you be able to show me any moves?”
Helena blushed at that and wavered a bit in her answer.
“Well, Sir, unfortunately no. I’m not allowed to dance in public yet as I have not completed enough training.”
“Oh, pardon me for saying so but I thought the Dionysian culture was all about free expression.”
“Oh it certainly is, Sir, but the structure of the temple is a bit more hierarchical than that. It would severely offend the temple dancers if I drew attention from them and would probably result in a pretty harsh punishment. For me.”
“Ah I understand. I would not want to get you in trouble.”
“Thank you Sir.”
We stood in silence for some time. I was finding myself experiencing a bit of sensory overload. I neglected to mention that there was a rather elaborate lighting system in this temple and it was being used to full effect here. The colors, the sounds, and certainly the sights paralyzed me somewhat. Seemingly reading my mind Helena interjected.
“Master, would you maybe have some questions to ask me? Perhaps we could sit.”
“Yes I think I would like that Helena is there
somewhere more private?”
“Yes indeed Sir, follow me. We’ll go up to the mezzanine.”
And with that Helena led me through the crowds to a staircase. I must confess to you, dear reader that with the sheer level of nudity and sexuality that I was being exposed to on a daily basis here it was becoming difficult to maintain any sort of professional distance. I sincerely do not want to be crass but let me just say that walking behind Helena was a reward unto itself. We approached the staircase when a man wearing nothing but a pair of leather chaps and a collar with a blue swagged chain hanging from it blocked our path.
Helena muttered something under her breath that sounded like “Oh for…fruits sake”
“You are not allowed to leave your post, Novice.”
“Danny, come on please.”
“Do not forget your place, Novice”
“Danny I have the anthropologist with me. He wants to do an interview.”
Danny looked at me with an intimidating look.
“Anthropologist? Helena you know you are not allowed to go around fucking community members.”
“I’m not going to f-“
Danny smiled at her.
“…pleasure this man, I’m going to give him an interview about our culture.”
“About our culture? What do you mean….oh….oh my. Sir are you…?”
“The gentleman from National Geographic, yes.”
Danny’s harsh demeanor melted away to embarrassment.
“Sir my apologies, of course please accept my deepest regret for not knowing who you were. Welcome to the temple. Please punish this slave however you desire.”
And with that Danny turned and bent over presenting his rear to me.
“I…um…”
“I’ll handle this Sir”
Helena’s hand went up and came down on Danny’s exposed rear with unexpected ferocity.
“Get up you big goofball, he’s from outside. He doesn’t do that kind of stuff.”
“Right well I just…um…yes…well enjoy the Bacchanal, Sir”
And with that Danny gave a slight bow and resumed his stance. But not before shooting a look at Helena and mouthing, “Bitch” to which Helena replied with a somewhat stunted “Mother….loving…son” and proceeded up the stairs in a huff.
She had some sort of hesitancy about swearing. It seemed like she would get so close to using a curse word and then change it at the last minute. As we ventured up the long staircase to the mezzanine, I caught up with her and walked side by side.
“It seems you and Danny don’t get along.”
“He’s just a…bit…witchy queen. Danny likes to get me in trouble and always has.”
“How long have you known Danny.”
“Since school. We did theatre together. He’s a dancer too.”
“Oh an old school friend?”
“We’re not friends.”
“Right.. got it. So you ended up working at the same temple?”
“Lucky us right? He was a year ahead of me. That’s also why he’s a higher rank. And he just loves to show that off.”
“Is that why he had a blue chain on his collar?”
“Yep. Acolyte. All it really means is that he can get himself out of garbage duty more easily. Anyway let’s grab a table…Master. Sorry I forgot myself there for a moment. Please Sir have a seat.”
Helena gestured to a small two seater table that looked down over the vast orgy happening beneath us. She pulled out the chair for me to sit down. As I was sitting I decided to strike up some small talk.
“You know in my culture the gentleman almost always pulls out the chair for the lady.”
“Even if the lady is the slave? That’s sweet!”
“Well not really because we don’t have….”
“Oh right! I forget that sometimes…Sir”
Sensing a drop in her protocol I thought I’d try a little experiment.
“Quite alright. You don’t have to call me Sir and Master you know?”
“No actually I do, I mean…thank you. But it’s a cultural thing. I am a good slave, I really am. True submissive right here. I genuinely love it. I’m just a little bit….well….awestruck by you, Sir. Truly. You’re here from another country to write about us and it’s just so exciting I’m sort of losing myself. We’re not one of the big tourist cities so we don’t get a lot of visitors from the old world. And like, I’m your guide here…so what you write in your piece about Dionsyianism is coming from me so I’m a sort of ambassador and….oh my god. I’m representing my whole religion.”
Helena finally took a breath and just stared at the
table for a moment, eyes wide. I reached out and placed my hand on hers.
“Helena it’s fine, a lot of people get nervous to talk to me. I’m not going to punish you if you drop your protocol. Just do as much as you are comfortable with.”
“Thank you, Sir. I really appreciate that. So um…let’s get started then. What questions do you have for me?”
“Well, why don’t you tell me about Dionysianism? How did you become a Dionysian?”
“My family were Dionysian so it’s kind of in my blood. My dad always ran the AV stuff for the temple and my mom cooked a lot and played guitar in the band.”
“Oh wow so they were very involved?”
“Yeah it was a nice place to grow up in. Going to temple was always a really happy time for me. There was always good food and everyone was so nice. Plus since my parents helped out so much when I got older I was able to come and help my dad set up sound equipment so I got to see stuff most kids my age didn’t see. I tended to wander off and watch the temple dancers rehearse for ceremonies. I especially like the ones…well…that kids aren’t supposed to see yet.”
“Like what?”
“A bunch of them. The pain ballet kind of shocked me but certainly left me wanting to see it again. I saw the dances for the festival of Venus, the festival of Mars, and the festival of Hermaphroditus. Those were all beautiful in their own way.”
“Pause for a second what are those?”
“Well, very briefly the pain ballet occurs during the Festival of Touch. Part of the five senses cycle. There are a lot of whips and slapping and hitting. It’s all very fun but is definitely one of the more shocking ones.”
I made a quick note to ask about these festivals more in detail later. I didn’t want to interrupt Helena while she was being so forthright with her life story.
“Then the last three I just mentioned are all of the
holidays of the genders. They each get their own dance. Men have a day, women have a day, and then everybody who doesn’t fit one of those categories also has a day. Each dance kind of celebrates the bodies of those genders. I would only ever be able to dance the Venutian one, naturally.”
With that she gestured to her exposed breasts and vulva.
“All lady here…sir.”
I could hardly stifle my laugh at her joke. She smiled sweetly and laughed along.
“Sorry the nudity is probably a little off putting to you isn’t it, Master? I keep forgetting you’re not used to all of this. If you want I can go change into some pants or a skirt?”
“No no you’re fine, you’re very considerate. I’m getting used to it.”
“Okay, just didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable. I can imagine going from the old world to this is quite a shock.”
“We certainly aren’t nude this often. But it’s your culture and I’m here to learn.”
“Right on….Sir”
“So you were saying you watched the dancers in secret.”
“Yes but the one that really stuck out to me was the Dance of the Lovers.”
“And what is that one?”
“That is one of the longest dances and it can be done with any combination of genders. There are slight variations in moves for different genders as well which means that it may be a little different every time you see it. In that one you need six dancers total. It tells the story of two young lovers who meet and fall in love. That’s the first movement with the younger dancers. Then at the end of it they make love. That takes us into the second movement where they are middle aged and have children. They face all these hardships and raise their kids then at the end of that they embrace and kiss. The final movement begins with two old dancers. And they really do get old dancers for this. It’s amazing. It’s slower and more delicate. They dance with each other and it tells the story of their children moving away. Sometimes they go on trips, sometimes they build things together, a lot of it is them laughing and having fun. The other dancers come out and reenact parts of the previous movements around them. Then the two lay down and…well they die. It’s amazing.”
“That sounds amazing.”
“That dance is why I became a temple dancer. I had an option of going off to become a professional dancer and dance on stage in musicals or some dance company but if I did that I would never be able to dance the Dance of the Lovers. And no offense, that’s better than any musical.”
“So it is purely a religious dance?”
“Yes, only Bacchic dancers can do it. And the real goal is to dance in all three movements over the course of your life. That’s what I want to do.”
“Well I wish you….pardon me but do performers here still say ‘break a leg’?”
Helena laughed “Yes we do.”
“Well I wish you nothing but broken legs on your path”
“Thank you, Sir. That means a lot.”
We sat in silence a moment and I noticed that my hand had drifted toward her hand again and I was clutching it firmly. Helena looked down at it and back up at me and smiled.
“So you’ve told me about being a dancer what made you decide on slavery as a path? Surely that was a huge choice”
“No not really. I’ve always been more on the submissive side. I had an inkling that’s where I was going to end up for a long time. I had tried to dominate boyfriends a few times in high school and it just never felt right. I take orders much better than I give them.”
“Really? Just like that, you knew?”
“…yep…does that shock you? I’ll be honest choosing to dance was harder.”
“I suppose it does shock me. That’s the one aspect that my readers will probably find the hardest to understand.”
“Hmm…interesting. I guess when you grow up here you know you have pretty much two paths and most people fit into one of the two. My dad was a slave to my mom. So I grew up around it. He taught me a log about what service means. And stuff like that. Would that interest you? I can see if we can set up a meeting sometime!”
“It would interest me immensely”
“Perfect, I’ll call him tonight”
“Wonderful!”
“No where were we?”
“Well you were talking a lot about the different holy days, could you go into a bit more detail about those?”
“Oh sure thing Sir, be warned we have a lot of them. Let me see, New Year’s Eve and New Years day are the biggest. We should probably start there.”
“Wherever you want”
“Oh! Sure. So on New Years we start the party in late afternoon Everybody brings their families, there’s food, dancing, games. It’s a really nice time. Sometimes the little ones go out into the snow and play. People tend to travel pretty far to see each other. It’s a really nice time to catch up with friends and family. The first part is really pretty tame. It’s more centered really on the kids. There are little plays and things. The choirs will have their little recitals and the bands will play.”
Helena noticed my eyes wandering down to her exposed chest with a look of concern.
“Temple staff is dressed in child appropriate clothes of course. Then after a few hours of that when the sun starts to go down the bells are rung.”
“Multiple bells?”
“Yeah it’s sort of like a wheel of bells. It makes a very pleasant sound. If you want I can show it to you if I get permission from one of the priestesses.”
“I would very much enjoy that.”
“Cool we’ll add that to the list. Anyway, the bells are rung and that signals it is time to for the children to leave. Young children are taken home by grandparents or other relatives who no longer participate in orgies.”
“The orgies?”
“Yeah…sometimes old people don’t like them anymore and would prefer to be with the kiddos.”
The cultural divide between Helena and I clearly was too deep for my shock to resonate. I just responded with,
“Right of course”
“Anyway sometimes a family slave takes them home. Sometimes a parent takes them home quickly to be with a babysitter and then rushes back. Recently we started offering a shuttle service to the kids. We have this big painted school bus and we play music and games. On the way home. One Bacchae drives the bus and two others supervise and lead the games and the songs. I’ve done it the past few years because I can play the guitar like my mom. It’s pretty fun.”
“It sounds sweet.”
“Yeah it’s important to keep the kiddos happy and excited because some are still not used to their parents leaving them to go do grownup things. From what I understand about the outside world that is more common here than elsewhere, is that true?”
“Yes generally. Most people don’t send their kids home from a party to attend an orgy”
Helena looked at me rather quizzically.
“Well then how do the parents manage to get to any orgies?”
“They..don’t typically.”
“Oh…sorry, Sir, if this is insensitive but no wonder so many people out there have so much anxiety.”
I laughed at the earnestness of her concern. Helena was genuinely troubled that adults in our world do not find time for orgies.
“You know, I am inclined to agree with you more and more each day I’m here.”
“Oh…Sir that genuinely make me happy! I’m glad you are enjoying our culture.”
Helena stopped talking and we just looked at each other for a time. She was beaming at me and was
clearly having a great time. I decided to break the silence.
“So the children go home, what about the teens?”
“Most of them drive. A lot of the time they go off to their own parties where they…well….do things they’re not necessarily supposed to..”
“Got it. Teens in the outside world get up to the same stuff.”
Helena laughed at that.
“Oh good, things aren’t that different outside.”
“Anyway…”
“Right, Malum vinum, I’m sorry Sir I get so off track.”
“No no you’re fine! We’re just talking. Now…what was that phrase you just used? Malum….”
“Malum vinum, it’s Latin for “Bad Wine” it’s kind of a ‘light’ swear. The priestesses say I’m too vulgar so I need to cut down on my swearing.”
“Is that why I’ve heard you use…other words?”
“Oh man is it that noticeable?”
“Being perceptive is my job. You’re fine.”
“Mmm yeah it’s a struggle”
“Ah, well lets hear about New Years Eve”
“Right so then the memoriam begins”
“The memoriam?”
“It’s where we honor the dead of the past year. Community members submit photographs of their friends and loved ones who passed away and they are shown. The temple band plays, sometimes accompanied by friends and family who play instruments. I’ve seen a lot of them where they play instruments that belonged to the deceased. In the old days they would set up pictures in the a part of the temple and people would walk while a band played but nowadays it’s just a slide show. It’s a very somber time. Everybody cries. Bacchae walk around room with tissues or to just be shoulders to cry on. The whole thing lasts an hour or so. Sometimes people will place photos or things owned or made by the deceased in our hall of the dead. As this section winds down novices begin to fill glasses with wine as it is approaching midnight. The band usually begins to play faster, brighter music to lift everyone’s spirits. At this point in the evening most are starting to come out of their low feelings. They begin laughing and telling stories of the deceased. Everything brightens up as we celebrate their lives. Then at a quarter till midnight the high Bacchae gives an invocation for the New Year. It’s some sort of speech about rebirth, a clean slate, loving each other, helping our friends as we help ourselves, that sort of stuff. They usually practice this thoroughly so that they end it right as the clock strike midnight. When the clock strike midnight acolytes ring the bells and the band starts playing Auld Lyne Syne and we all sing and drink our first cup of wine.”
I would be a liar if I said I wasn’t tearing up at this point.
“That is…a beautiful ceremony.”
“Thank you, it is an intense holiday. But we Dionysians are an intense bunch I’ve been told.”
“So what happens next?”
“Right so then the orgy begins.”
“Just like that?”
“Yep, people finish singing, hug, kiss, and then…keep kissing. And then that leads to…ta-da a classic bacchic orgy!”
“How long does that last?”
“Until everyone is asleep. Novices typically begin cleaning at around 3 or 4. That’s a huge task. The community members try to be clean at the beginning but after a lot of drinking the cleanup is…considerable.”
“When to people leave?”
“They start to trickle out at around 8 the next morning. By about 10 we’re instructed to help along anyone who hasn’t left yet.”
“How does that work?”
“Well you tap them on the shoulder, welcome them to the new year then…kinda just nicely tell them to fuck off….oh fuck..dammit…ugh malum vinum!”
“Uh oh, you swore.”
“I know.”
Helena rolled her eyes and reached down to her
clitoris.
“You’re going to need to call it okay? Don’t go easy on me Master, I f-screwed up”
“What I?”
With that Helena squeezed her clitoris hard and winced in pain.
“Don’t tell me to stop yet Sir.”
“Um…okay.”
She gave the tiniest welp and began panting. I watched for what seemed like an eternity. Eventually it was too much for me.
“Alright alright you’re done”
Helena let out a massive sigh of relief. The area around her clit was red and swollen. It was difficult for me to take my eyes off of it.
“Sorry to drag you into that Sir, when I swear I’m supposed to punish myself on the spot I can’t stop until whomever is near releases me. You’re clearly not much of a sadist. Thank you for that.”
Helena laughed while she spoke and I laughed too. She took this so casually and then went on with our conversation.
Social mores surrounding sex and even abuse are so starkly different from our own society. Everything, absolutely everything, is filtered through the barrier of consent. In the outside world a display such as what I just witnessed would be of the highest degree of sexual abuse and yet here, it’s clear that’s what she signed up for. She is in a vocational career. She wants to be a temple dancer and this is part of the training. Helena loves this in the same way she loves her collar. Never in my life have I seen a community of people so enthusiastic about their lives. They seem to have achieved a utopian ideal that is one part “Wonder Years” neighborhood purity complete with church activity busses where the nuns sing to you and then one part “eyes wide shut” I have to admit I found myself falling more and more in love with this place at every turn.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/rqj0v7/report_from_a_journalist_in_a_bdsm_society_about