Friday, September 28, 2012

Screaming when she comes

I usually find I do.

On with the captioned images of printed circuits.  Sorry, I mean female domination.  Long day.

Femdom welts
And there he was thinking he'd got off lightly for once.  Good thing Linda came home.

Femdom death - well eventually
It's nice when something you thought was finished gives you just a little bit extra like that.

Femdom humiliation without even trying
But you have to pay her €500 first.

I think this is one of those times when it's just up to you to decide how to take it, you know?  On the one hand you could get angry - let's face it, it was a pretty mean trick.  But on the other, you could just be pathetically grateful that they noticed your miserable existence at all, couldn't you? 

Actually, to be entirely accurate, you won't be able to leave one small corner of the basement.

Wednesday, September 26, 2012

Little things that make her laugh

...but enough about me.  Ha ha.

Actually - not enough about me.  I have a question, and as you readers are my favourite people I thought I'd ask you.  Does anyone know of a dungeon hire/ SM studio place in Paris?  You know - that hires out by the hour or so...  do let me know in the comments, if you do.

Mens Lib
I wouldn't go if I were you.  She won't still respect you in the morning, you know.  I mean, she doesn't now.

Escape from femdom servitude - why?
Hmmm.  Could cut through the concrete block perhaps?  No, no, that wouldn't work.  Gosh, I love puzzles, don't you?

Old femdom photo
Ooooh!  A little too close for comfort there?  Hmmm?

Persmissive femdom
Consent.  No BSDSM relationship should be without it.

Sometimes I'm all excited, really close to an orgasm, you know, and then something happens and I just can't come.  Did that ever happen to you?  Just last spring, for example, I was really close and then I forgot to iron her shirt and I couldn't come for months.  The male's really a mystery, isn't it?.

Monday, September 24, 2012

Femdom story: Code-talkers

Just another little tale I tossed off, if you'll excuse the phrase.  Don't read if you're offended by silliness.


“Emily!”, Alison squealed with pleasure.  “Why it’s been…well, I don’t know!  It must be three years – didn’t we last meet at Jerry’s wedding?”

Her cousin shook her head, laughing.

“No – I couldn’t make it.  Don’t you remember?  Mark had messed up that business with the plumbing, and we had a flooded cellar.  We had to stay at home to get it sorted out – I emailed you all about it.”

“Oh, that’s right!” Alison replied.  “I’ll bet you gave Mark a right good thra – “

-          and she broke off, glancing nervously at the third member of their party, their aged Great Aunt Maggie, who was sitting bright-eyed between the two of them, nodding happily.

“I mean – errr – well, you must have had a few stern, errr, words with Mark after that one.”

“I certainly did”, Emily nodded, grimly.  “Lots of words – three dozen that first time around, and then another session a week later when the plumber’s bill arrived.”

“And how’s Mark now?” Emily enquired casually.  “When you last emailed me, you said he was playing, errr, playing ‘golf’ rather too often and you were thinking of putting a stop to it.”

Her cousin laughed.

“Oh, he won’t be playing ‘golf’ any more.  Well...only when I say so.  I’ve got his ‘clubs’ all locked away, safe and sound.”

“But you let him play occasionally?”

“Oh yes.  When he’s been good.  But no more than once a month or so.  Just so he doesn’t get completely out of practice, you know.  I’ve heard that ‘golf balls’ have to be used every month or so, otherwise they can get damaged.”

“Never seen the point of golf myself!” Great-Aunt Maggie burst in unexpectedly.  “Just grown-ups playing marbles if you ask me.  And snooker – that’s just as bad.  Tennis.  I used to like watching tennis.”

“That’s nice Mags”, Emily said, encouragingly.  “Did you watch Wimbledon this year?”

Great-Aunt Maggie looked puzzled.  “I’m not sure, dear.” She replied.  “Was that nice Mr Borg playing?  I’m sure he won something, didn’t he?”

“Errr…I think that might have been a year or two earlier, Mags” Emily said, uncertainly and the three sat in silence for while.

“So how’s David?” Alison prompted, after a while.  “I expect you still keep his ‘golf clubs’ locked away, mmm?  With spikes, if I remember rightly.”

“Oh no” Emily giggled.  “David had the operation – I’m sure I must have told you about it?”

“Operation, dear?” Great-Aunt Maggie butted in, apparently pleased to be on her home turf of ailments and remedies.

“Yes Mags.  I took him in last year to have his errr” – and she caught her cousin’s eye - “to have his ‘tonsils’ taken out.”

“That’s good”, her Great-Aunt replied.  “Much better off without them.”

“Oh yes”, Emily laughed.  “He’s a changed man, without any ‘tonsils’ any more.”

“Did you get to watch the operation?”, Alison asked with interest, as she had been thinking about arranging for Mark to have his ‘tonsils’ removed too.

“Oh yes” her cousin replied breathlessly.  “It was great!  They strapped him dow – I mean, they bandaged him up tightly, and then they let me watch as they removed each of them in turn.  They even let me do the final little snip.  Gosh, it was so exciting!  I had a – errr – hot flush right there in the operating theatre!”

“So was Mark under anaesthetic?” Alison asked, beginning to feel the stirrings of a ‘hot flush’ herself, and wondering whether Great-Aunt Mags would mind if the two excused themselves and went upstairs to visit their old bedrooms.

“No – not even a local, not if you don’t want it” her cousin replied, giggling.  “He made quite a fuss, especially just before the first ‘tonsil’ came off – I mean, ‘out’.”

“And they even let me keep the tonsils afterwards” she added, casually.  “They’re in a little jar in my bedside drawer.”

“How lovely”, Emily breathed.  “So is David much more obedi – I mean, is he a bit more co-operative now?”

“Oh yes”, her cousin smiled.  “He does anything I want.  And the housework’s all done, spic and span every time. And he also - ”

“Itr was the electric that did that!” Great-Aunt Maggie broke in.

“You what, Mags?”

“The electric.  For housework.  Made all the difference.  Oh, before that it was impossible to get the place clean.  Cos before that we’d just had gas, and that wasn’t the same, not at all.  Your Great Uncle Bert liked the gas, but I said, ‘no – we’re moving with the times, Bert, we’re going electric.”

“That right, Mags?”, smiled Alison, indulgently.

“Ooooh yes.  I’ll tell you, as soon as we got that electric installed, I said ‘Right Bert, this is how it’s going to be from now on.  This is the future, this is.’ And he didn’t know the first thing about it!  He said, what’s it do then, Mags?  That’s what he said.”

“Didn’t he know about electricity then, Mags?”

“Oh no, dear.  This was 1938, and he was never very technical, wasn’t Bert.  So I showed him!  I plugged a cable into that socket – we only had the one socket when we first got the electric put in – and I attached one wire to the tip of his willy, using a hairclip, and shoved the other up his arse and switched it on!  Oooh, he found out what it did then!  You should have seen him jumping about screaming ‘Switch it off, Mistress, I’ll be good Mistress!’  Never had a moment’s trouble from him after that – housework all done, all my meals served in bed and a lovely bit of oral every Sunday morning before church.  Oh – and when we needed a bit of extra money, to buy a telly for the coronation, it just took one little dose of the electric and he was off giving hand jobs to demobbed soldiers for two bob a time, just to get a bit of extra money in."
"Oh, it used to scare the willies out of him, the electric, old Bert! Even worse than the birch.  He used to say ‘Oh please Mistress, give me two dozen with the birch instead!  Anything but the electric, Mistress!’  ‘Course, I always gave him double voltage when he tried to argue like that! And I’d sit on his face while he was taking it, too!  Lovely, that was.  Dear me.  Happy days.”
She paused in contented contemplation of times past, as her two great-nieces sat in shocked silence.

“Anyway, speaking of a bit of oral, dears, I’ve got a lovely 24 year-old strapped to my bed upstairs – Polish, or Czechyslovenian or one of those places.  Doesn’t speak a word of English, but he goes like a train and he knows what to do with his tongue when you take a flogger to him.  And I’ve got a brand-new strap-on that’s going to make him squeal a bit too!  So I’ll leave you young people to natter about your golf and tonsils, and I’ll take myself off for an early night and a good hard fuck.  See you in the morning, dears.”
And with that, the ninety-seven year old eased herself up from her chair and slowly hobbled over to where the chairlift was waiting to carry her upstairs, leaving her younger relatives to wonder what else they might have been missing all of these years.

Friday, September 21, 2012

The truth can hurt

...but so can lying.

The belt from a domme wife oh my
Actually, he was wearing two belts.

Femdom general knowledge
Men's brains aren't good at remembering dates, but they do have a really good nerve connection to the genitals, so it's a perfect match.

Castration lit yummy
"Snip-Lit".  It's going to be the next big thing after 50 Shades of Grey, you'll see.

Dental domme delights
She's not actually a dentist.  She did admit that on his fourth visit, to be fair.

Female dommed relationship
I think this is one of those marriages where the arguments always end up with screaming and tears, don't you?

Tuesday, September 18, 2012

Another femdom first for Contemplating the Divine!

You saw it here first!  Corner time POV:

Exciting, isn't it?
That is actually a genuine picture of a corner.  Isn't the Internet wonderful?
It's almost as good as the real thing, isn't it?
Try staring at it for fifteen minutes, and just imagine the lady who put you there.  Mmmm.
Actually, for those of you who've read down this far, I'm going to let you into a little secret.
It's not just a static image - it's a moving GIF!
Yes it is!  Because I'm a technical wizard and I know how to make those things.  So, if you stare at it long'll see something rather special!  Just my little gift to loyal 'readers' of this blog.
I won't tell you quite how long but somewhere between the 30 and 40 minute mark, you'll see.
It's rather good.
But you have to watch.
No, honestly.  It won't work otherwise.
There - did you?  Oh.  You missed it.  Well, just reload the page and watch again.  It'll be well worth your while.
Anyway, this will be the first in a series.  So be sure to check back.

Monday, September 17, 2012

Femdom story: Locked

Well, I'll bet no one has ever written a femdom story with that title before!  Anyway, here's my take on it.


 “Are you all right, Mrs Taylor?” the doctor asked, stepping quickly to the side of the tall blonde lady standing over the hospital bed.
Janet nodded dumbly.

“Yes…yes.  I’m fine.  It’s just a bit of a shock, that’s all.  Seeing him – like this.  I mean, it’s just as you described it, of course.  But somehow it’s different seeing it for real.”

The doctor nodded understandingly. “Locked-in syndrome takes quite some getting used to”, she said.  “But he’s still in there.  It’s still your husband.”

“Alan”, Janet murmured.  “Yes, it’s still my Alan in there.  But he can’t move a muscle?”

“Well…” the doctor replied.  “His internal muscles like the heart are all in good working order.  And look – you see? – he can still blink his eyes.  That’ll make it a lot easier to look after him – no need for eyedroppers to keep the eyeballs moist, you see.  But otherwise, no muscular control at all.  Yet he can feel everything.”

“Mmmm” Janet said, reaching out and gently running her fingertips up the inner thigh of her immobilised husband.  “And he can see as well?”

“Oh yes” the doctor replied.  “Although of course he can’t control what he’s actually looking at.  But you can move the eyeballs – no, here, let me do it.  It’s best to wear gloves.”

And she deftly reached out and with a rubber-tipped finger flicked each eyeball round so that Alan was staring right at his wife.  The effect was a little uncanny, but Janet forced herself to smile.

“And you can hear me too, can’t you Alan?  Every word.”

She sighed slightly, and reached out again, this time pinching a small roll of Alan’s flesh between her fingers.  Steadily she compressed it, letting her elegant nails dig deeply into the flesh.  She watched the tiny buds of blood appear as she gently sawed her nails from side to side, and smiled again in satisfaction.

“Oh, we’re going to have such fun when I get you home.” she murmured, and put her hand to her mouth to taste the blood.

“Well, you can take him home whenever you like” the doctor shrugged.  “Everything’s fine; he’s fully recovered from the operation.  Those marks on his wrists and ankles will go away in a few days.  They’re just from where he was struggling when he was restrained.”

“Oh yes!” Janet replied.  “It seems so strange now, seeing him so silent and peaceful like this.  The last time I saw him he was thrashing about and screaming and begging so frantically…it’s a good thing he was so firmly tied down.”

“Yes, well they usually react rather vigorously when they’re told what the operation is really for” the doctor replied.    “I used to prefer them to be anaesthetised, but I’m quite used to it now.  As long as the head and upper body are held quite firmly, I can operate no matter how much of a fuss they’re making.”

She turned Alan’s head, leaving it to flop sideways, the eyes now looking away from them, and showed Janet a small, neat scar on the back of his head, just above the neck.

“Is it difficult?” Janet asked, with interest.

“It’s a bit fiddly”, the doctor replied casually.  “A few years ago, we were just paralysing the whole body, and that was pretty straightforward, just a quick cut through the spinal cord and it’s done.  But tailoring it so that he can still feel, is very delicate work – and leaving the eyelids operational is a skilled job.  It took over four hours for the whole thing, and he was conscious all the time.  Nowadays I rather enjoy the screaming and pleading, so I leave those nerves until last.”

“You don’t remember what his last words were, by any chance, do you?” Janet enquired.

The doctor paused, thinking hard, then shook her head.

“I’m sorry, I really don’t.  It was mostly just pitiful pleading at that point. ‘Please don’t do this.  Oh please, please.  For pity’s sake.’  That kind of thing.  Is it important?”

“Oh no” Janet replied.  “I just wondered.”

“Of course, keeping it reversible adds to the complexity” the doctor remarked.  “We have to tie all the cut ends up neatly, so we could reattach them if need be.  Are you likely to want to bring him back?”

“No, not very likely” Janet replied.  “But what I thought I might do – are you listening to this Alan? – what I thought I might do, is roll two dice every year, on the anniversary of the operation. If he gets a double six, I promise I’ll bring him back and he can be fully restored.  For a month.  Then I’ll put him back like this.”

“So you’re giving him some hope” the doctor nodded.  “Every year, he’ll wonder whether he’ll be able to move and speak again.  A one in 36 chance each time.”

“That’s right” Janet replied.  “I wanted to give him a little spark of hope that it won’t be forever.  It’ll make the misery of his existence just that bit harder to bear.”

She smiled again.

“Of course, he doesn’t have to wait for the dice.  If I chose to, I could let him out at any time!”

“I think his chances are probably better with the dice!”, the  doctor smiled back.  “But it must be nice to have that control.”

“Total control” murmured Janet, and on a whim she turned her husband’s head back again so that he was staring at them.  His eyes started blinking furiously.
"Locked.  Aren't you, Alan?  And I have the key!"
Now this next bit won't's the bit after that hurts.

Friday, September 14, 2012

Her obedient servant

Whipping beauty
Hurry up, she wants you suspended and well flogged before going out - and the dinner reservation is for eight!

Hunting femdom
Dave season starts today!  Actually, that's not true.  Every day is Dave season.

Hard day femdom
Just try to empathise.  Men aren't very good at it, but women know that and often make a particular effort to make their feelings known.

He can't tell Coke from Pepsi, but he can tell Paolo from Antonio.

Oh well, never mind.  You'd probably have been rubbish at it anyway.

Another quick one

Oh, hi - is that Mr Harris?  Good morning, it’s Lisa here from Megabank Card Services.
I’m very well, thank you.  Now the reason I’m calling, is our fraud detection system flagged some of your credit card transactions as unusual, so I just wanted to check that those were really you.   It’s probably fine, but we just need to check.
OK, so can I just run through some recent items?
Right,  now on Thursday you purchased two books from Amazon?  “Dealing with sexual failure” was one I think, and “Spanked in front of the girls”?  OK, fine.
Then the next day, I’ve got a purchase of a web subscription, 3 months non-recurring, to “Diaper boys and strict nannies”? And then a purchase of premium access to the same site, two hours later?
Fine.  And then the next evening there’s a charge for “Samantha Strict’s chatline”?  No?  Oh – that wasn’t you?  Are you sure?  OK, well we’d better log that.  Only there’s several, you see.  There was “Small penis humiliation”, for £45, then two hours later I’ve got “Wank on my command”.  So I’d better alert our fraud department, and start a –
 - what’s that?  Oh they were you?  That’s fine then, because…oh yes, don’t worry.  It’s strange how quickly we can forget these things, isn't it?  It’s just as well, because there was another this morning:  “Piss boy humiliation”.  Oh – and one’s just popped up on screen from this afternoon: “Beg to cum”.  That’s probably why your number was engaged when we called 10 minutes ago – you’d have been just finishing that one off, I expect.
OK, well if that’s all fine, I can clear the suspected fraud flag.  They can update your profile, you see, so that similar purchases won’t set off the warnings.  That way I won’t need to keep bothering you by phoning up - I expect you’ve got better things to do!
And your profile will be updated throughout the bank’s systems.  That way we can provide you with better, more personalised financial products and offers, you see.  Whenever you call, or if you drop into the bank, whoever you’re talking to will have all your details in front of them on the screen, so they’ll know exactly who they’re dealing with.
Now, is there anything else I can do for you today?
No, not at all.  My pleasure.  Bye now!

Just a quick one

I feel a surge of deep satisfaction
Much as a queen astride her gelded steed
When I return from daily strife as a dominant wife
How pleasant is the life I lead

I run my home precisely on schedule
At six-o-one I march through my door
The boy to kiss my shoe is due at six-o-two
Consistent is the life I lead

It's grand to be a domina in 2010
Ladies are taking over, and subjugating men!
I'm the lady of my castle, the sovereign, the liege
I treat my subjects - servants, husband, slaves -€”
With a fair but brutal hand: noblesse oblige

It's six-o-three and the boy who is my husband
Is scrubbed and spanked and pinched around with pegs
And so I'll beat him till he begs, to kneel between my legs
Ah lordly is the life I lead

A British nanny must be a general
The future empire lies within her hands
And so the person that we need to mold the breed
Is a nanny who can give commands

A British prison runs with precision
The British home requires nothing less
Tradition, discipline and rules must be the tools
Without them disorder, masturbation, anarchy
In short you have a masculine mess!

(Sometimes a photo just writes its own caption.)

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

Self discipline is over-rated

Always better to get someone else to do it for you, either a professional or an enthusiastic amateur.  That way you'll get a proper job done.

Swallow or a whipping - or both
Don't worry about the bruises.  Most clients like them.

Prom date humiliation
It's not your fault.  I'm sure she won't be taking it out on you.

Spanking disciplinary wife
I usually find that a short discussion is enough, but often she wants to go into things at much greater length.

Lesbian lust but not for you
Don't worry - most men experience depression post-castration.  But do you know what?  No one gives a shit.  So that's OK.

Crushing an insect and your dreams
That reminds me, one of my girlfriends used to have a pet name for me: cockroach. 

Thursday, September 6, 2012

Femdom story: Something for the boys 3/3

The thrilling finale of a new Serena and Alice story (this third chunk obviously starts with part 4, because, because...errr...because that's how we do things around here).

This part of the story gets very heavy indeed, with scenes of torture, non-consensual physical harm and even death done to (supposedly) humorous effect.  Seriously, this bit gets quite squicky.  If you don't like that, that's absolutely fine, and you don't have to read it. It's also a love story.

The story so far: Alice is visiting her friend Serena, who is a real scientist! Read all about it here. And here!

Serena and Alice: Something for the boys 3/3

Ready to do some science?

Part 4 – in which we nearly reach the end

After Serena, Alice and Colin had all finished their orgasms – the ladies first, but then Alice managed another by giving her former schoolmate a good ball-kicking, once the agonies of his half-hour orgasm had ceased – the ladies had tea brought in, and Colin dragged out.

“Funny Colin” Alice murmured in happy memory.  Colin was the class clown, always ready with a joke to defuse tension and make everyone laugh.  Once he’d managed to cheer her up, after her pet rabbit had died.  It had been lovely to see him again, she thought, still tingling at the memory of his desperate shrieks for mercy as she’d kicked at his poor, drained testicles.  Perhaps Serena would let her have him – she made a mental note to ask quickly, while he still survived.  Too often she’d noticed men she fancied in Serena’s establishment, and asked about them a few days later, only to be greeted with the familiar little smile and shake of the head. 

Serena had been checking her phone again, while her friend was thinking these nostalgic thoughts.  “Right, I think one of them’s ready” she announced, snapping it away.

“One of whom?” Alice asked, grammatically.  “And why do you keep checking your phone?”

“It’s monitoring some experiments.  And one of them is about ready. Now then, I was starting to tell you – “

“About the opposite of dribbly-cock man!” Alice burst in with delight.  “You were saying – what if instead of dilating the tubes permanently, you kept them closed permanently!”

Serena nodded affectionately.  “That’s right” she said. “And what do you think will happen then?”

“Well” Alice began, excitedly, “I bet you think I’m going to say that it would be no different from being in permanent chastity.  Well I’m not!”

Serena smiled again.  She did love Alice.  Oh, she was a little young and inexperienced.  But she had so much enthusiasm, so much life!  Her protégé was making steady progress, and although Alice was no scientist, Serena was confident that one day, men would wake up screaming in terror at the thought of her name.  She let her friend, now bubbling with girlish enthusiasm, continue.

“Only I know that men kept in permanent chastity leak a bit. Even David does – and he gets released every three months.  If he’s good, anyway.  But men have been kept in chastity for years and years, and they cry a bit, but they’re basically OK.  And that’s because they leak.”

Serena nodded approval - although she had finally noticed that Alice kept referring to David’s genitals in the present tense.  She made a mental note to take a portable emasculating kit with her the next time she visited (but in the event, she forgot, and they had to use a kitchen knife and two bricks instead – but it was a lot of fun).

“That’s right, they leak.  Oh - and they lose the sexual urge quite a bit as well.  I put my first boy in chastity when I was sixteen, so that’s fourteen years now (more like 21, Alice thought a little cattishly) and it’s quite rare that he even tries to get erections.  I think if I let him out now, he’d be impotent.  And he was a virgin when I locked him up too!”

“But seriously” Serena went on, “Suppose they couldn’t leak.  And suppose their natural tendencies to sexual desire weren’t allowed to decline through non-use, but were chemically stimulated?”

“Then they’d keep on producing semen, but there wouldn’t be anywhere for it to go!” Alice chimed in delightedly.  She’d worked this out for herself.  “And after a while, as the semen builds up and up and up, they’d start to look – “

“Like that” Serena concluded, as with perfect dramatic timing, a third experiment was escorted in.  This one walked like a cowboy, taking great sideways strides as it tried to move with minimal disturbance to the mass hanging down between its legs.

Alice clapped her hands delightedly and leaned forwards for a closer look, as the slave finally hauled himself to a stop before them.  Then she drew back, looking disappointed.

“Awww”  she said.  “I mean, they’re big and they’re obviously uncomfortable.  But I thought they’d be full to bursting.  I was looking forward to seeing them go pop!  Like that bird in Shrek.”

“You mean the one Princess Fiona sings to and it explodes?” Serena asked.  “Yes, I remember.  I thought that was in rather bad taste, to show an animal being hurt like that – even in a cartoon.”

“Yes, there’s too much of that sort of casual cruelty in the movies these days.” Alice agreed.  “But look, I thought the outside would be all shiny, with the inside full to bursting with unspent semen.  Ready to burst.  Pop!” and her voice rather faded away in a little reverie as she pronounced the last word.

“Well, the testicles are very full.” Serena explained.  “But that’s just the scrotal sac we’re seeing there.  It has lots of spare room, that’s why it’s all wrinkly and you can pull it about so much.  No matter how big the testicles get, they’re not going to stretch the scrotal sac to bursting.  It’s just too loose.”

“No pop!” Alice murmured sadly to herself, and settled back in her chair.

“Oh come on!” Serena said, sharply.  “Have I ever let you down?  We had to wait until the right moment for a reason.  Boy! Come here.”

The experiment shuffled very slowly forward, and unhappily met her gaze.

“Do you know why you’re here?” Serena asked.

“Well, Miss” he began.  “I cheated on my girlfriend, so she tricked me into coming here to interview for an IT job, and while I was waiting two big guys came up with a big rubber sack, and they…”

“Why you’re here in front of us, fool!”

“Oh.  Cause of my balls, Miss.”

“What about your balls?  And call me Mistress.”

“Yes Mistress.  Well, they’re full.  Very full. I’m one of seven boys in this experimental pound, and mine are the biggest.  Though number 31B’s are growing very fast” he added, hopefully.

Serena smiled.  “No, yours are the fullest all right” she said, gently waving her phone at him.  “It’s all here. So – how long have they been filling, do you remember?”

“No Miss – Mistress!  I was made to masturbate soon after I arrived.  That was a few months ago.”

“And what happened after that?” Serena asked sweetly.

“Well, I was beaten with a whip, Mistress, because you said that although I had to be allowed to come in the interests of the experiment, that was no reason not to punish me severely – “

“I mean what happened in the experiment, you idiot!” Serena screamed at him, wondering whether brain damage was some kind of side-effect of the drugs.

“Oh.  Well, I was taken off to a room, where I was immobilised in a sort of iron and leather frame.  And I’ve been there ever since.  There were other boys in there when I got there, but they all got taken away.  And new ones came to replace them.  I’m the longest resident now.”

“Were” Serena said, quietly.  “You’ve been taken away now, too.”

“Yes Miss” the experiment replied, unhappily.

“And you haven’t had an orgasm since?”

“No Miss.”

“Would you like one?”

“No thank you, Miss.”

“Boy, if I have to remind you to call me Mistress once more, you’ll regret it.  You might think that nothing worse can happen to you than what you’re going through.  But you’d be wrong.  Now – you say you don’t want an orgasm.  Why not?”

“I’m scared, Mistress.”

“Scared of what?”

“Of what might happen to my swollen balls, Mistress.”

“Do you know what will happen to them?  If you come?”

“No Mistress.”

“Oh!  I do.  Shall I tell you?  Well, if you get excited, first of all it’ll be just like a normal orgasm if you remember anything about that.  The muscles will squeeze, and try to push semen up the tubes into your penis and out.  But that way’s blocked, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“So the semen - under very high pressure now – will try to find other ways.  Some of it will break through the tissue of the testicles into your scrotal sack.  That’ll feel odd, won’t it?  To have semen sloshing around loose inside your scrotal sac?  I said, that’ll feel odd, won’t it boy!”

“Yes Mistress” quavered his voice.  “Very odd.”

“Yes.  It will.  But not much of the semen can get out that way, so the rest will try to force itself up any tube it can find.  Some of it will rupture blood vessels.  Do you know how you get an erection boy?”

“Blood pumps into the penis, and it becomes engorged and – “ he began and was rapidly shushed by Serena, who was now much too excited to let him speak for long.

“Exactly!  So with the blood vessels ruptured, the blood will keep on pumping, pumping – where?”

“Ummm, I – “ he began.

“Down!” Serena gasped triumphantly.  “Down into that scrotal sac, pumping it fuller and fuller, with blood mixed with semen.”

“Yes, Mistress” he groaned.

“And quite often the urethral tubes are ruptured as well, so your bladder empties into the scrotum too.” Serena added, pleasantly.  “Is your bladder full boy?”

“Very Mistress”, he admitted wretchedly.

“Well, not for long. So with all that additional liquid pumping in, well, I’m afraid even Mr Wrinkly Scrotum is going to start to look like a balloon.  More like a balloon being filled with water under a tap than an air balloon, but a balloon nonetheless.  And gravity and your heart there will keep pouring liquid in until – “

“Pop!” said Alice rapturously, from her seat to the side.

“Pop.” Serena concluded.  “So all that will happen if you come, boy.  You might want to control yourself.”

“Yes, Mistress” he sobbed, in fear. “Oh please, Mistress.  Don’t make me come.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Serena said sharply.  “I’m not going to make you come.” She indicated her friend with a nod of her head.  “Go and kneel down in front of Miss Alice, boy”.
Science.  There are always more questions to be answered.

 He did as he was told, with something of a sigh of relief when his bulging ball-sac finally made contact with the floor. Alice leaned forward.

“What’s your name?” she asked, softly.

He blinked in surprise.  “Er, Alan, Miss.  Mistress?”

“Miss will do fine with me, Alan.” she said, kindly.  “Did you live near here Alan?  I mean, before you were captured?”

“Yes Miss.  Near the football ground.”

“Why, we’re practically neighbours.” Alice smiled.  “You must give me the name and address of your ex-girlfriend.  I’m sure she’d like to hear about you.”

Alan wrote down the contact details in the small book she proffered, then handed it back.

“Yes.  Cheating on your girlfriend.  Tut tut.  Well, I’m sure she’ll be delighted to hear about what happened to you.  I’ll drop round and let her know tomorrow.” And her foot moved gently forward, so the toe of her shoe delicately bumped against Alan’s penis.  Which instantly twitched into life.

“Oh please, Miss?” he begged.

“Please?  Please what, Alan?” she replied, as the sole of her shoe began rhythmic pressing against the underside of his penis.

“Please don’t make me come, Miss.” he sobbed in terror.

“Me, Alan?” she replied with mock surprise, as her foot continued its work.  “I’m not going to make you come.  I’m just sitting here.  The only person who can make you come is you, Alan.  By thinking impure thoughts about me. Thoughts about my breasts, for example.  Or thoughts about what sort of underwear I might be wearing” – she shifted slightly in her chair, crossing and uncrossing her legs – “here.”

“Oh Miss” he groaned.

“You see, Alan, Serena’s already explained what will happen if you come, hasn’t she?  Your balls will rupture and your scrotal sac will fill with a disgusting mix of semen, blood and urine and “ –

She broke off as a thought struck her.  “Won’t it make an awful mess?” she asked her friend, anxiously. “When he explodes, I mean.  Only I don’t have a change of clothes with me, and – “

“Don’t worry” Serena reassured her.  “It takes a while to build up.  We’ll put him in a big see-through plastic bag before it bursts.”

“That’s a relief” smiled Alice.  “I thought it all sounded a bit extreme.”

She turned her attention back to the boy in front of her, and resumed the rhythmic action with her foot.

“So anyway, Alan” she remarked kindly.  “As I was saying, if you come, your testicles will rupture and your scrotal sac will explode.  So… if you were a sensible human being, you might decide not to come, don’t you think?”

“Yes, Miss.  Oh please, Miss.” he begged.

“But you’re not a sensible human being, are you Alan?  You’re a man.  And if you could control your nasty little urges, you wouldn’t have cheated on that lovely girlfriend – Carly, is it? – and this wouldn’t be happening to you, would it?  So maybe this is just all for the best.”

And she continued gently batting the engorged organ until some heavy breathing and grunts from Alan told her that the interesting bit was about to begin.  She drew back, and watched with keen interest.


It took about 20 minutes for the scrotal sac to fill.  Alice was surprised, and impressed, to see how painful the process seemed to be.  Looking at her delighted face, Serena reflected once again on how wonderfully varied the world of a sadist could be.  You might think that when you’ve heard one man screaming in agony, tinged with desperate fear for his life, you’ve heard them all.  But there were different harmonics, different cadences to the screams, depending on the precise location and form of the pain – as well as just its intensity.  Serena could no more become bored with torturing men than a true connoisseur of wine could become bored with wine.  The intensity of the pain was one element – and an important one to be sure – but to that extent, it was not so different from, say, the alcohol content of a fine wine.  Obviously essential to the enjoyment to be present in sufficient strength, but by no means the only aspect of the experience to be sampled, tasted and enjoyed.

At Serena’s institute, Alice was in the equivalent of the cellars of Chateau-Laffite – here she could sample the glorious range of raw power and subtle experiences that she was gradually learning to savour slowly.  With her young enthusiasm, married to a real instinct for cruelty, Serena marvelled, her little friend gave her a purpose for her experiments that had revitalised her own jaded palette.  That was why she adored her.

She also fucked like a rabbit of course, Serena reflected, as her friend drew her forwards once again into her arms, but after a loving kiss Alice rapidly wriggled around to put both sets of lips to more direct use.  Serena just had the presence of mind to command her slaves to place Alan into a thick transparent plastic bag, before she was herself overwhelmed and unable to speak, barely able to breathe.

Later, the two ladies sat, exhausted, on the floor, leaning against the plastic bag that contained what remained of Alan.  It was certainly a mess, and quite smelly too, although in their post-coitus bliss, the ladies didn’t mind. Remarkably, he was still alive, although he’d lost a lot of blood, and the internal rupturing would surely eventually be fatal. He’d lived to witness their orgasms, Alice reflected, and wondered briefly whether he got any comfort from the thought that his agonising death was causing so much pleasure to others.  Probably not, she thought.  Men could be so selfish.

“So what did it feel like having your testicles explode?” Serena called through the bag.  “Don’t worry  - I promise I’ll never do that to you again!”

“Oh…oh Miss” came the faint voice from inside.

“Right” Serena said, getting to her feet.  “He can’t say I didn’t warn him.”

She gathered the open end of the bag together, and tied it tightly in a knot. Inside, Alan looked out despairingly.  His head was down the other end, and with his insides ruptured there was little he could do to struggle.  He could only look on, as Serena sealed inside the last oxygen that he would ever breathe.

“It’s ‘Mistress’ she said curtly, as she sat down again. Honestly!  Boys can be so rude!”

“Mmmm” Alice said, snuggling closer to her.  “Suffocation.  I love suffocation.”

“Or drowning” Serena pointed out.  “Look” And she tipped the bag slightly, until Alan’s face was resting in the smeary mixture.  He coughed and gurgled, and the ladies fell about laughing as a piece of his ruined testicle was sucked into his mouth.

The two watched in contented silence for a few minutes, occasionally tipping the bag, to give Alan a chance to gulp at some of the increasingly stale air.

Alice looked around the room where she had spent such a happy afternoon.  There was the bloodstain from the servant whom Serena had accidentally castrated with the remote control.  There was the tiny stain on the carpet where Mr Dribbly Cock had spilled some of the never-ending dribble of semen from his useless cock.  There was the much larger set of semen stains, where Colin had deposited every single drop that had been in his testicles, and then writhed in agony for a further 25 minutes while his continuing orgasm crushingly hammered on his empty balls.  And here beside them, now, lay Alan, feebly choking his last on his own shredded testicles and bodily fluids.  She felt perfectly at peace.

Suddenly she was seized with an overpowering sense of purpose.  She looked urgently at Serena, who gazed back rather startled by the fire in her eyes.

“Serena” Alice began, slowly.  “I love you and I want to marry you.  Please.  Please let’s be married.  I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Serena smiled back.  “But what about David?” she asked, mockingly.

“Oh, you can have David”, Alice giggled. “I want him to spend the rest of his life with you, too.”

“We’ll look after David together” Serena murmured, and leaned forward for a kiss, from the willingly proffered lips of her bride-to-be.
Happy ever after.

Well, I hope you enjoyed that.  Especially the romantic element.  I'm just a sucker for that kind of thing: boy meets girl, girl enslaves boy, girl meets other girl, girls torture boy to death... it's the oldest story in the world, but we never get tired of it do we?  Do we?  Hello?  Anyone still here?