Well, it is confirmed! On July 5th, La Domaine Esemar will be hosting our 4th ever Schwanendreher roast! For more info about the event, please contact Master R or Mistress couple directly.
To whet your appetite, here is the account written by our last Schwanendreher victim!
Mistress Collette and Domina Five strap in Roastee #2
My Perfect Day
Since my first forays into BDSM as a teenager I have always had a fascination for heat & fire play. Partly I think this came from my massive interest in history, the brutality of the crusades, the inquisition, ritual sacrifice and execution by fire. In 2005 I was seriously hurt in a fire play scene gone wrong, two skin grafts, a skin eating MRS superbug infection, and four months of healing. I lost my trust in anyone and put my masochist side to bed.
Then I heard about La Domaine Esemar, they had the equipment and experience to perform my ultimate fantasy ~ being roasted on a spit ~ or Schwanandreher as it is called at Esemar. It was time for me to get back on the horse, discussions were held, plans were made and so I found myself travelling to the States, giving my trust to a group of people I had never met.
I didn’t sleep much that night. Too much nervous anticipation as I lie listening to the rain falling. As dawn broke the rain stopped and I knew the Schwanandreher was on.
I arrived at Esemar shortly before 11.00am, there were a few brief introductions to the house slaves, hello’s to the Masters & Mistresses I had met the night before, and then I was quickly guided into the dungeon by Domina Jaguar and Miss Couple. Esemar is a high protocol house and I was soon striped and kneeling in front of Miss Couple. My name for the day was quite simply ‘meat’.
The ladies examined my burn scars and we talked a little about that experience, and then my wrists were cuffed and I was chained in the classic X position.
The first order of the day was to remove most of my body hair. House slave ‘do’ also joined us in the dungeon to assist the Domina’s. Then with hair removed the real fun started. I can’t really describe in detail what happened next, it was just a blur of sensation and activity as three beautiful ladies worked their magic on me. I was pinched, scratched, prodded, bitten, caressed, kissed, massaged, crushed, teased as the ladies used every part of their bodies to build up the intensity in mine. Miss Couple disappeared a few times, apparently she was raiding the kitchen of any implement she could find to torment me with. I soon slipped into sub space and started to giggle uncontrollably. The ladies added tickling to the affray. I could have quite happily stayed in the dungeon for the rest of day.
However the time was fast approaching for the main event. Jaguar left us to make her own final preparations and Couple returned from the kitchen, but this time with my final meal, mushroom soup. Even this was teased into my mouth, blow to cool each mushroom, tongue out and wait for Miss to place in my mouth. Finally the meal was finished, cuffs released, taken upstairs, robed, blindfolded.
The next few minutes were going to be the hardest for me. I am a fairly quiet individual, a bit reclusive by nature. I have never bottomed in public before, humiliation is a hard limit for me. If I was going to fail in this task, it was going to happen soon. I needn’t have worried.
Miss Couple took my hands and guided me out of the house. There was a cool wind blowing, and I could soon smell the smoke from the cherry wood burning in the fire pit. It was eerily silent as I arrived at the spit, I could sense everyone’s focus on me, not a word being spoken. It’s difficult to describe in words, the closest I can manage is that it felt like an ancient tribal ritual was about to take place, a human sacrifice. My robe was removed and the Masters guided me onto the spit, it was at its full height, about five feet above the ground. I gingerly felt for the crossbars and then lay down on the cold hard metal that was about to become my prison. Three leather belts were quickly strapped in place, one across the top of my chest, one across the tops of my thighs and the final one across the tops of my feet. I was trapped.
Then everything burst into life. The coals were to be transferred from the fire pit in a metal bucket, and then spread under the spit. Everyone who wanted was to have their turn at placing the coals and turning me on the spit. Appropriately it was Miss Couple who carried the first bucket. At five feet above the coals I couldn’t feel the heat at all. The spit has a built in jack that allows it to be lowered to about three feet off the ground, I was soon on the move down towards the coals. Then the first turn of the spit was made, and I realised this was going to be physically quite hard. As the spit turned to about 75 degrees the pressure of my body weight on one side of my chest was really uncomfortable. Then the turn was completed and I was hanging over the coals. Not satisfied that the coals were hot enough the Masters added a twist, ostrich feathers were produced to fan the coals, it felt like the heat coming up was instantly doubled, I started to cook.
My skin went from cool, to warm, uncomfortably hot. Then I would be turned, sometimes through 180 degrees, sometimes through 90 degrees. These were the worst moments as not only did I have the pressure on my chest but it was the point at which my body was closest to the coals. Every now and then I would feel a hand on me, checking the temperature of my skin, or a comment on how pink I was looking. Finally satisfied I was as hot as I could stand it was time for the next stage. Master R, the owner of La Domaine, had prepared a basting sauce for the occasion and it was time to apply it. At first it was bliss as the cold sauce was slowly applied to my chest and arms, taking away the heat from my skin. However my back and underside of my legs were still cooking and getting unbearably hot. I was straining to move every millimetre up away from the heat that I could manage, in reality I was wasting my time. I only had one thought in my head now ‘hurry up, hurry up, hurry up’ but I didn’t dare say a word, I was sure they would have taken longer if I had spoken. Not a moment too soon I was turned and basted on my back, I felt the tension ease out and I could relax for a short while.
It was a short respite. More coals were added and my skin started to heat again. As I went through the process of being turned I could hear lots more comments now, deliberately loud enough for my torment I’m sure. How nice I was smelling with the baste on me, good enough to eat, I want to bite this part or that part, the swishing noise from the ostrich feathers to keep the coals glowing hot. My breathing heavy as I used it to try and control the pain. I have no concept of how long this lasted but finally I reached the point where my skin was getting dangerously hot again, the spit was raised back to its maximum height, I was sprayed from water bottles to cool me down, offered water to drink and then allowed to rest.
I can’t remember who now, but it was suggested it was time to remove my blindfold, I agreed. I was so deeply into this now I think I would have agreed to anything. The whole process started again. The only difference being that I could now see the coals glowing under me. Without my glasses my vision is somewhat blurry, my eyes were wet party from emotion, partly from the smoke that occasionally drifted up from the coals. Although the blindfold was off, I still mostly kept my eyes closed, occasionally snatching a look at my tormentors as the spit turned in their direction. With my clouded wet vision they looked like ghosts, indistinct faces, blurred outlines, standing at a funny angle, realising it was me that was actually at the funny angle, watching me cook. Then it all went a bit surreal, my giggles started again. The Masters realised I would be unable to safe word, or indicate if my skin was getting dangerously hot, they immediately raised me again, and once again I was cooled off.
After a while I heard Miss Couple whispering in my ear “we can take you down now if you want or we have enough coals for one more turn”. I turned my head and looked into her eyes, it wasn’t really a choice at all. We both knew there was only one answer, my ordeal wasn’t quite over, it fact it was about to get much worse.
The last of the coals were spread below me, this time I could feel the heat rising even though I was at the highest point the spit could go to. My legs were already heating up. This was going to be bad. The jacks started working again and down I went. I was grateful that I was turned almost immediately as my legs were already feeling too hot. My relief didn’t last long. I was already breathing heavily as now my stomach took the heat. I was turned again so this time I was at the 90 degree angle. For the first time I properly opened my eyes and sought out Miss Couple. I needed to focus on her to help control the pain. She seemed to be thoroughly enjoying herself, fanning the coals adding to my suffering. I started growling and thrashing about, banging my head into the iron crossbar of the spit, fortunately it was padded. This was a pain I understood, I’d met it before, it was the pain where your skin is getting ready to burst, the nerves waiting to die. The safety phrase at Esemar is ‘please show me mercy’ I wasn’t getting beyond PLEASE, it was enough and I was turned again. We finally reached the point where I couldn’t stand the heat for more than a few seconds before I needed to be turned again. After two and half hours it was finally time to stop.
The straps were released. I was physically and emotionally drained, but elated that I had managed to do this. I just stared up at the sky for a while before finally testing my legs to see if they still worked. I gradually climbed off the spit with help from the Masters, and then the ladies took over, wrapping me in a blanket, supporting me to a chair, feeding me water, staying with me as everyone else slowly disappeared back to the house.
When I was finally able to move they supported me to the house. Then slave do took me into the shower and cleaned me up. We shared a tender moment, she took me into her arms, kissed me, held me, she said she could sense I needed it, I think she needed it too.
For the next several hours I sat like a zombie, always someone watching me, feeding me more water, getting me food, anything I needed.
The day wasn’t quite done, there was a party that evening. The play seemed quite brutal at times, excess energy left over from the afternoon, or perhaps they are always that way. Miss Couple hadn’t quite finished with me, but as it isn’t related to the roast I won’t put the details here. It deserves its own chapter, the title would be something like ‘I want to hear you scream meat’ and scream I did!