But there's no sense crying over every mistake

So... a few years back I wrote two parts of a Serena and Alice story based on Portal, the truly wonderful game about jumping through transdimensional hoopy things.  And always intended to write a third part, maybe about using portals inside slaves' bodies to make them into more effective human furniture, or something, I dunno.  But it never quite happened and so the story was left hanging, in a frustrating manner (and not 'frustrating' in a good way).

And last week someone left a comment on the second part, all the way back in 2018, asking where the third part is.  And that kind of shamed me (also not in a good way, although I do very much enjoy being shamed, in certain contexts) and inspired me finally to write Part 3.  So here we are, Serena and Alice, Thinking with Portals Part 3. 

Anyone not familiar with Serena and Alice might want to go and check out some of the previous ones.  Or just run away.  What follows contains scenes of extreme violence, non-consensual torture and murder, along with a lot of lesbian innuendo.  It's a Serena and Alice story for goddess' sake!  That's what they do and they're very good at it.  If you don't like that sort of thing, don't read it. And if you do like that sort of thing, you're a despicable human being and probably a danger to society, just like me.

Here we go.

It’s hard to overstate my satisfaction

Thinking with Portals part 3 - a Serena and Alice story

 

The blonde schoolgirl stared down at the two figures before her.  “What are you doing?”

A tall, dark-haired girl looked back up at her.  She was notionally dressed in the same school uniform, but where the blonde somehow managed to fill out the costume in a traditional – if cutely sexy - manner, she instead seemed to take an alternative slant on every item, from the skirt slashed diagonally, via the tie being used as a belt, to the asymmetrically-buttoned blouse.  And where the blonde’s hair cascaded into golden curls, the dark hair before her was slashed in random places – as if by a razor, which indeed it had been.  She said nothing.

“You’re that weird goth-girl aren’t you?” the blonde added.  “Why are you sitting on that boy?”

The other girl’s purple-highlighted eyes narrowed slightly. “And you’re that blonde airhead.  One of the ‘popular’ girls.”

She glanced down.  Below her, occasionally wriggling slightly, was a figure in the male version of that same uniform. He was lying flat on his front, the girl’s weight pressing into the small of his back, his face smooshed onto the muddy gravel by the ankle of one of her heavily booted feet resting on the back of his head. 

“I’m sitting on him because it’s more comfortable than sitting on the ground.”

“Does he like it?”

The other one shrugged, causing the boy to yelp as her weight must have pressed some bony part of his anatomy to the ground.

“Don’t think so.  A few do – or they think they do until it gets serious.  But this one’s just scared of me.  Aren’t you, maggot!”

The ‘maggot’ sobbed a few indistinct words of acknowledgement.

“I can make him do anything” she added,  “Anything at all.  Look.”

And she lifted her boot, extended her leg out, then scraped the heel back along the ground, building up  a mass of mud and gravel pieces, and continued scraping until the filthy mess was in contact with the boy’s lips.

“Eat!”

Trembling lips closed around the slick, muddy mess and a mouth frantically worked to remove it from the leather. 

“That’s bullying!” the blonde declared firmly.  “The school has a policy on bullying, you know.”

“So do I” smiled the other.  “This is it.”

The blonde smiled back uncertainly, not used to seeing a happy expression on the face of the weird goth-girl that she and all her ‘popular’ friends had always avoided.

“Oh come on” the goth-girl said.  “Haven’t you ever thought about what you would do if you had someone helpless - completely helpless?  And you could do anything you want to them? Anything at all…?”

The blonde tossed her head proudly.  “I can get boys to do just about anything I want anyway.” She said.  “Waiting for me, falling in love… presents.” 

“I really like presents”, she continued, thoughtfully.

“This one never buys me presents” the seated girl remarked.  “Because he never has any money, because he gives his pocket money to me on the day he gets it.  Don’t you, maggot?”

Her seat gurgled his assent, apparently trying to swallow a particularly troublesome lump of gravel.

“So… so, OK.” the blonde nodded.  She could see the point of that. “And you don’t even have to have sex with them?”

“I don’t really like sex with boys” the other replied.  She looked up, again.

“Not with boys” she repeated.

The blonde wasn’t paying much attention, her gaze fixed on the brutalised boy, who was now frantically licking the seam of the boot before him, trying to restore it to the pristine condition it had been in before it had been used to scrape up his indigestible meal.

“I suppose you could… could make them do sex the way you wanted it, instead of the way they like it” she murmured thoughtfully.  “Using their tongues more, for instance.  For longer.”

“I mean, not this one obviously” she added, wrinkling her shapely nose in disgust at the blackened tongue.  “Not after where that’s been.”

“Plenty more of them.” the other replied disdainfully.  “Honestly, there’s no shortage of males in this world - nasty brutish things.  But you know, girls have tongues too.  And they taste nicer.  How about letting me show you?”

She shuffled back slightly on the boy’s back, to make enough space for a second person.  They boy, realising what was about to happen, started taking deep breaths as if oxygenating his bloodstream for a deep dive under the ocean.

“Well, I’m not sure” the blonde replied, but, rather uncertainly, she stepped over the prostrate form, took the other girl’s proffered hand and lowered herself onto the waiting back.

“Whoops” she cried out, toppling sideways, but an arm reached out quickly to grab her waist, steadying her and bringing her back upright.  And then remained around her waist.

“I’m not a lesbian, you know” she remarked, primly.

“How do you know?  Have you ever had sex with a girl?”

“Well… no.”

“That’s probably why, then.  I wasn’t a lesbian either, before I had a sex with a girl.  That’s how you become one – let me show you.”

“Well… maybe just a kiss.  Erm…. Look, sorry but I don’t actually know your real name.  I just think of you as ‘weird goth girl’.”

“Serena.” smiled the other, pulling her closer.  “And I think I know your name, little blonde airhead, but I’d love to hear you say it as I kiss those lips.”

“Alice.  I’m – oh! – I’m Alice.”

...

As they leaned into their embrace, and the male below struggled helplessly to breathe, two shadowy figures vanished in an orange flash behind the nearest bike stand, with an eerie whooshing noise, leaving behind a sharp smell of ozone. But, engrossed in one another, neither girl noticed any of these things.

...

“That was amazing!” shrieked Alice happily, tumbling out of the blue-edged time portal in Serena’s laboratory.  “How do you turn portals into a time machine?”

Serena smiled indulgently.  She thought about quantum entanglement, about paired sets of particles separated through proximity to the event horizon of a minuscule artificial black hole she had held stable, for the microseconds before it dwindled to nothing from the Hawking radiation into which its mass had to turn; she thought about the particle accelerator extending out for miles around the underground facility, in which one of each pair of particles, accelerated to near the speed of light, found itself separated in time and space from its stationary counterpart, while still in a deeper sense remaining adjacent to it in all these dimensions. About manipulation of matter at the subatomic level, using techniques far in advance of any other nanotechnology, to seed the paired particles into the matter of a pair of transdimensional portals…

She thought about these things and also thought about Alice, about her sparkling blue eyes and her cascading blonde curls.

“Science” she replied. 

 

Readers interested in trying to reproduce Serena's time machine might want to make use of some of the sciencey maths sums on the board behind this lovely lady.  I'm not saying it will work, but it can't hurt your chances.  No idea who the delightful auburn-haired lady is... maybe one of Serena and Alice's friends?  They do have friends, after all; they don't spend their whole time torturing males and fucking each other, you know.  No more than 95% of their time in fact... 97, tops.

 

“And you really were such a goth girl!” Alice giggled.  “I'd forgotten.  Purple eye-shadow, Doc Marten boots… the works.”

“Just a phase” Serena replied, slightly put out.  “Anyway, I met a little blonde airhead who made me happy.  And you can’t really keep doing the goth thing if you’re happy – doesn’t work.  I still like The Cure, though.”

“And wasn’t I cute!” Alice gasped.  “Oh my god… I could so have fucked myself.”

“So could I – and I did, just two days later, remember? – but, you know, I actually prefer the slightly curvier look of you now…” began Serena, but Alice wasn’t listening.

Instead, she seemed to be thinking hard, her pretty brow furrowed as it always did when she carried out this out-of-character task.

“Hey” she said slowly.  “We could go and visit me.  Or you!  I could fuck two of you at the same time.  I’d like that!”

“But I’d really, really like to fuck myself.” she added, wistfully.  “Can we?  Please?”

Serena had been thinking too, as soon as she saw where her friend’s mind was going.  Serena could think a lot faster than Alice and in any event, had thought of all of this long before and had even tried it out.  So she had thought a lot more things in the same time, before Alice had formulated her question. Disturbing things*.

“Multiple us-es” she smiled.  “Maybe not quite such a good idea. Imagine if there were two Serenas and one had to watch the other kissing you.  You know how jealous I get and when I get jealous I become. – “

“Homicidally violent” Alice nodded.  She didn’t know much about science but she understood Serena and although she loved her more than anyone or anything in the world, she felt certain that one Serena was quite dangerous enough, for the world and everyone in it except Alice herself.  Two or even more was a terrifying prospect.

“But multiple Alices would be OK, though” she pleaded.  “We’d just have sex,  Lots and lots and lots of sex.  Come on – wouldn’t you like to watch me kissing myself?  Wouldn’t you like to be kissed by two of me – we could kiss you in different places at the same time.”

Serena tried to suppress thoughts of how much she would like that.  She remembered a bedroom, the flash of orange light as a portal appeared, a delighted cry as one Alice recognised herself in the other.  The wild, passionate sex, the extraordinary things that Alice could do to her being done to her twice, multiple times… she remembered all of that and found herself breathing heavily.

But she also remembered the demands for more Alices.  That if sex with two Alices was amazing, imagine how sex with four would be.  Or more… please?  Pleeease?

And she remembered two pairs of blue eyes gazing pleadingly at her, and how much harder it was to resist than when only one pair did that.  And realised - just before pressing the button to bring another pair of Alices into this universe - how much harder still it would be to resist four pairs of pleading eyes.

And she remembered envisaging the exponential curves, as four delighted, squealing orgasming Alices became eight, then sixteen, then thirty-two and how Serena’s capacity for rational thought – normally superlative but liable to turn to goo when confronted with those dancing blonde curls – would collapse and the button would be pressed and pressed again, and the pile of writhing, gasping Alices would grow and grow until the mass of sexually insatiable Alices began to generate its own gravity field and the Earth itself crumbled into the event horizon created by a near-infinite replication of her pretty girlfriend – and she remembered staying her hand and not pressing the button.

Because, vicious, vindictive and mass-murdering though she was, Serena did not actually want the world to end. As long as it still had males in it to torture to death – and as long as it still had Alice, of course – she rather liked the world.  So with a supreme effort, she had said no, even when both golden-curled heads tossed so very fetchingly in annoyance and disappointment.  Serena, she who could watch acid burning off the entirety of a man’s flesh, layer by layer, while sipping tea and taking notes, had to suppress that memory rapidly, with a shudder.  Strong as she was, there were things even she could not bear.

“Not possible” I’m afraid., she replied brightly.  “It would create a paradox.  Two Alices, occupying the same position, in time and space…”

“Well, not exactly the same position” Alice said, coyly.  “See, I was thinking that I could go between your legs, while the other Alice…”

 “…in time and space” continued Serena, loudly, “that would break the laws of causality.  What you do to the other Alice would be done to you – in a sense – and –“

“I know: that’s the point.”

“…and if you’ve done something to yourself before the other one remembers doing it to you, then how can your other self not remember doing it, when she comes to do it?  When she’s you?  A paradox, you see?”

Alice was staring at her blankly. 

“Paradox” said Serena, again.  She briefly wondered whether Alice knew what a paradox was. 

“I mean it’s against the laws of physics.” she added.

“But I don’t care about the laws of physics!” retorted Alice, near tears.  “I just want to fuck myself.  It’s not as if we care about other laws, is it?  I mean, kidnapping and torturing and murdering men must be against a whole bunch of laws, too, right?  I mean, I haven’t checked but it must be.  And that’s never stopped us.  Please?”

“The laws of physics are different” began Serena, weakly.  And then she had a brainwave.

“Plus, obviously, if there were two Alices each would only get half the number of presents” she added, casually.  “I mean, that's just arithmetic: more Alices, fewer presents per Alice.  If two Alices were given a pair of gold ear-rings, for example, oh... say with inlaid rubies, they could each only have one.  Although, I suppose they could share them… take turns…”

“No, no you’re right.” Alice said, quickly.  “Quite right.  That would be awful… imagine having to share presents.  I mean, even with myself.”  She shuddered.

“And there’s those laws of physics to consider.” she added.  “Mustn’t break those. And all the paradoxes, the nasty things.”

“Exactly” sighed Serena, making a mental note to compel someone to buy a very expensive pair of ear-rings. Gold, with rubies.  “And you know… I’m very happy with just the Alice I’ve got.  She’s perfect.  Now – how about I show you a few tricks with time-portals?”

And the two friends spent a happy afternoon discovering ever-new ways of using time travel to inflict pain and suffering on males, perhaps because the author realised that readers of Contemplating the Divine might actually want a bit of femdom content, for goddess' sake, in what has otherwise been essentially a lesbian love story,* with some slightly ropey science attached.

 

Aliceworld (in this image Alice is played by an actress who looks a bit like her).  OK, I'll admit there are worse possible fates for the planet but it's probably still better not to risk it.

…

Alice giggled as her friend turned a dial and the genitals of the restrained male before them turned old and wizened, trapped as they were by a thin band of time portal in an era when this body had become 90 years old**.  Then she turned the dial the other way and after a brief spell as a healthy adult male organ, the penis shrank back into a twig-like state and the balls lifted up into the helpless male’s crotch.”

“Aww… like a liddle boy” mocked Alice and blew the man the sort of kiss that could usually raise at least a twitch in the adult male organ – but of course could do nothing for the pee-pee of a six year-old.

…

They spent a few hours watching the Spanish Inquisition at work, Serena taking careful notes about the operation of the rack, before returning to their present with the inquisitors themselves.

“I suppose they’d be interested to see how torture technology has progressed in the last few centuries” Alice remarked, as she watched the last of them being lowered automatically into his holding cell, shrieking in terror and fury in a mixture of Spanish and Latin, about devils, witches and (she-) demons.

“We could give them a thorough demonstration this Saturday.” nodded Serena.  “I expect they’ll be quite impressed.  Still… they knew how to make a rack back then.  Did you hear when the tendons around his knee snapped?”

“Pop!” shouted Alice, delightedly.  “I love it when that happens. And the screaming of course. What’s next?”

…

What was next turned out to be two naked males, in a largely bare room.  One was strapped to a table and had obviously been the recipient of Serena’s attention for some time already.  What remained of his body was covered in small bloodied cuts and, more importantly, what remained of his body was not that much. Many of his extremities were missing or had large chunks chopped out of them.  The other male appeared to be unharmed, seated in a high chair affording him an excellent view of the torture victim, a view that he could not avoid because his neck and head were strapped into a steel contraption that forced him to gaze in a prescribed direction and his eyes, behind transparent plastic lenses of saline solution, were clipped open.  Alice had seen this before: it was the set-up Serena used when she thought it was important that a boy should see something that he might otherwise be too terrified to look at.

Serena went over to the quivering bloodied torso and held up a small steel object with pride.

“All done with just one pair of pliers!” she declared, flexing her palm to show the blades – which cannot have been longer than one and half centimetres – opening and closing.

“I thought it would be fun to limit myself just to these, you see.  Like an artist – another artist, I mean, a different kind of artist from me – limiting herself to just one brush or some such.  And it was really interesting.  Obviously, working steadily up the joints of each finger was straightforward  - that’s what these are really for, after all – but then for example the larger limb parts presented quite a challenge.  It took ages to do this knee for instance” she said, gesturing casually to the bloodied stump of one leg, where splinters of twisted and crudely cut bone stuck out of raggedly-abused flesh in which, indeed, each zig and each zag was no longer than the blades of the pair of pliers.

Alive clapped politely.

“And what about him, then?” she asked, gesturing to the uninjured male in the chair.

“Is he next?”

Serena chuckled.

“In a way, yes.  Look closely at this one’s face.”

Alice leaned over the savaged bloody mess that had once been a face, and looked with interest, then glanced back at the figure in the chair.

Reader, if at this point you expect Alice to say something like “Oh, they’re very similar, are they brothers?” then I must disappoint you.  Alice is a little ignorant of certain scientific, historical, geographical, astronomical, literary and other matters (although she has unparalleled expertise in certain specific aspects of biology) but she is not stupid.  She got it immediately.

“Ooh! This – “ and she indicated the bloodied mess – “ is the future him.” and pointed to the immobile figure high in his chair.   

 Serena smiled.  “That’s right.  He’s seeing his future.  I’ve been working on him on and off for a few weeks now; there’s probably a few weeks to go.  He gets videos to review on days when his future self isn’t being tortured too, so when I send him back to his own time he’ll have a really excellent knowledge of exactly what will happen.  Then from time to time I visit his cell and bring him here and strap him down.  And on one of those times – it might be the first, it might be the hundredth – it'll start.” 

“So he’ll see his own death?” Alice asked.  “That would be spooky, wouldn’t it?  I don’t think I’d like that.”

To her surprise her friend shook her head.  “I don’t want to give him the comfort of knowing when he’ll die.  You might not want to know when you’ll die, but it’s different for them, on the torture bench, because it’s the one thing they have to look forward to; the thing they long for more than anything else in the world.”

“No.  When he’s not much more than a cube of living, hurting flesh, I’ll stop and it’ll be for his former self to imagine how long he has to endure in that state until his body grants him the privilege of non-existence.”

This was all a bit philosophical for Alice, who was looking again at the face of the moaning torture victim.

“You haven’t done the eyes yet.  Can we do an eye?  It must be tricky with the pliers… they’re so small. I mean, I suppose we could just stab and gouge it out with the blades together, but it seems a bit too easy for him.”  She paused.

“Hey!  How about if we snipped around his eyeball?  Instead of gouging the eyeball out, we could snip away all the bony bits holding it in, one at a time.  Would that work?”

“Clever you!” Serena said. “I’d been wondering how to do the eyes.  How about you do the cutting too – I’ll hold his eyelids out to start with, while you snip them off.”

And she handed her friend the pliers and the two happily went to work, accompanied by the screams of the victim, whose tongue had long since been too lacerated to allow human speech but whose vocal chords were in perfect condition for the screaming they so often had to do.  Perhaps through the agony he dimly remembered, too, seeing the same scene from outside, from high up in the chair where his former self watched, every snip, every twisted off bone, every gouge cut in quivering flesh adding to his stock of dread for his inevitable fate.

…

"You'd think someone who gave his name to the practice of 'masochism' would be better at it." complained Alice, as they entered the orange portal to return to the 21st century. "And a bit more grateful when someone takes the trouble to show him how femdom techniques developed after his time."

"Those who can, do, those who can't, tech" shrugged Serena.  "Have you tried this Sachertorte?"

...

A memory (with Alice once again played by an actress - a different one this time) from the ladies' trip to meet William Tell. I didn't write this one up, because Alice was embarrassed about her poor archery skills, although I think she didn't do too badly.  Most of her shots were fairly close and she did manage squarely to hit the apple on her 23rd go.

Later, in bed, the two reflected on their day.

“You know”, Alice said, “I don’t really see the point in time travel.  I mean, it was fun but there are lots of other ways to torture boys.  And those history trips were OK, but you can watch a movie instead, and that’s often … I dunno… more exciting.  Except maybe when we went to that sunny country, where they were nailing guys to those wooden things… that was nice, and they don’t show those bits in movies, not properly.”

“You mean, when we witnessed the crucifixion of Christ?” Serena replied, quietly.

“Yeah, that.” Alice replied.  “Like that Mel Gibson thing.  That was all right, I suppose.  But what I mean, is that I don’t see the point of trying to change the past.  Why would we want to do that, when it’s all been so good?”

“I suppose some people might have regrets… might want to go back and change things so their lives worked out better.” Serena replied.  “Try to warn their former selves about mistakes they will make.”

“I expect most of the males who’ve ever met me would very much like to do that, actually.” she reflected.

“Yes, but that’s not us, is it?  That’s them, and they don’t matter.  Except as slaves and pain-toys. But I mean, even people who don’t end up being enslaved and tortured might want to go back and change things… give them some information that might make their former selves money, for instance, which – “

“Which would reverse the principle of causation and thus endanger the integrity of the universe.” Serena reminded her.

“Yeah, right.  But even if we could, we wouldn’t want to, would we?  I mean, you don’t need any money; you haven’t since the day that mysterious woman appeared and gave you those winning lottery numbers, and you used the jackpot to buy your first lab and invent stuff and become a billionaire, right?  So why would we go back? Life’s perfect and it has been ever since we met.”

“That’s right” Serena replied, thinking it might be best not to dwell too long on the mysterious stranger she had met soon after leaving school.  “Best not to mess with causative reality, anyway.”

“Cos of the platypuses” Alice murmured, resting her head against Serena’s chest and closing her eyes.

“Paradoxes” smiled Serena, kissing her friend’s golden locks and wondering whether her girlfriend had been imagining the world being over-run by scurrying Australian beaver-like animals throughout the earlier discussion of temporal causal loops.

She gazed down at her fondly.  Alice was no intellectual, but she had a deep reserve of common sense that Serena knew she could rely on.  Her friend was right, of course.  She, Serena, was wealthier than any human in history, had hundreds of men locked away trembling in terror at the very thought of her and she could do anything she wanted – anything at all, just as she had dreamed of, when bullying boys at school. Few people in history had ever experienced sadistic desires to match hers, but surely none even of those had ever had the opportunity to put their every vicious desire into practice on such an endless number and variety of unwilling victims.  Truly, she was blessed,  And above all, she had Alice: beautiful, wise and sexually insatiable. 

Why travel into the past, when your life today is perfect?

"Light off" she commanded quietly, and in a neighbouring room two sweating slaves on stationary bicycles came to an exhausted halt and the lights in the bedroom dimmed to darkness.  And Serena settled back, her lover's head heavy on her chest, and fell into a contented, deep sleep.

 

Epilogue

In the middle of the night, Serena stirred into consciousness, awoken by an insistent prodding at her shoulder.

“But hang on!  If we can duplicate Alices by bringing them from another time or universe, why can’t we do the same with presents?  Then there’d be enough to go around no matter how many of me there are!”

 

END

*Remember this is Serena we are talking about.  Anything she finds ‘disturbing’ can safely be assumed to be very, very bad indeed.

**But that of course is the secret of the Serena and Alice tales.  Each one, though it may include graphic descriptions of the most stomach-turning torture, twisted and vicious illustrations of the extremes of woman’s utter inhumanity to man culminating in the agonies of multiple lonely meaningless deaths, is at its heart a love story.  A rom-com, if you like, but one featuring charred flesh, splintered bones, gouged eyes, and the desperate echoing screams of the lover’s doomed victims.  Notting Hill, eat your heart out.

*** Another paradox, if you will, as there is obviously no way that any male under Serena’s control would make it to a ripe old age like that – unless being subjected to some very long-running torture (she is proud of having used her time machine to set up a “slow drip” experiment in which a hot beaker of tar drips onto awaiting male flesh no more often than once two or three years.  It has been running for over thirty years already).

... oh and a little vignette of an extra tale, for those who have read down this far.  Since we're on the theme of parallel universes...

"I'm not sure, Mistress", W said, nervously eyeing the futuristic headset.  "I've tried a couple of VR things before and they're just mainstream porn - pounding away at a gasping naked girl just isn't my thing, you know?"

"Oh just relax, W" Mistress Valerie tutted.  "Honestly, it's bad enough you shrieking like a little girl every time I tap you with a paddle... just try this, OK?  Even though you'll feel everything, it can't do you any real harm, you know that.  And I promise it'll be kinky enough - in fact, I guarantee it.  You'll see."

So W lay back and let his Mistress fit the complicated apparatus over his head, then watched her attach the various tubes and cables to the control equipment.  She pressed a few buttons and W flinched in fear as he felt the nanotubes snake into his flesh, to bury themselves deep inside his brain, but - coward though he was - he trusted his long-standing Mistress and had let her secure his wrists before she started.  She patted his hand reassuringly.

"Now... you've got an exit, like a safeword.  Your wrists are secured but if you get worried, you can just tap the index and middle finger of your right hand together three times and you'll come straight back, OK?  Now... are you ready?"

"Yes, Mistress.  Erm... if I may, what's the theme of the fantasy you've chosen for me?"

"But that's the point, W.  I don't choose.  It just looks inside your mind, finds a fantasy that you find exciting and makes it real for you.  So it's bound to be something you like, you see?"

"Oh, yes, I suppose so Mistress" W said, as the real world started to fade, to be replaced with the inputs from his new neural connections.

"Only..." he had a sudden thought.  "Mistress, no!  Wait!  Please!  Some of my fantasies are a bit - "

But it was too late.  W found himself in a clinical white space, still apparently secured to a couch.  He saw a young woman seated in front of him, blonde curls cascading around her perfect face, her big blue eyes staring right at him.  She was the most beautiful girl W had ever seen.  But something about her expression alarmed him.

Then he became aware of another woman standing by his side, dark-haired this time, wearing a lab coat.  She seemed to be fixing something onto the fingers of his right hand, holding his index and middle fingers in a rigid V-shape, unable to move.  W felt a stab of dread in his stomach.

"Hello 'Servitor'", smiled Serena, looking down at him.  "We've both been so looking forward to meeting you, after all this time and all those things you wrote about us.  Haven't we, Alice?"

We do what we must

 ...because we can.

Part 2 in the exciting Portal ripoff featuring Serena and Alice.  Read the first part here!  Read the ladies' previous adventures here!  But don't blame me if they haunt your nightmares, OK?

Warning: contains scenes of torture, mutilation, coprophagia, death and almost all the possible permutations of those things.  Or to put it bluntly: contains Serena and Alice.  If you don't like reading such unpleasant tales, you're probably a normal, well-adjusted ethical human being. And we don't really cater for those around here.

 

 

Of course, this isn't a picture of Serena and Alice, it's just something I found on the Internet. But it looks remarkably like them, don't you think?

 

Some hours later, a sparkling flash around the oval rim of the orange portal on Serena’s wall, along with the happy laugh that so often betokened Alice’s arrival, announced the ladies’ return.  The seven males within earshot – some engaged in tasks, others simply secured or stored awaiting future use – flinched visibly, their eyes cast down to the floor. Those two still free to use their mouths whispered silently as if in prayer.  Serena was nearby and that was never good news.  Admittedly, Alice was with her which sometimes led to their Mistress being distracted by thoughts and pleasures unrelated to inflicting agony on males, but those thoughts were never far away and in any case, Alice’s presence often inspired still greater creative cruelties in Serena’s dark and savage soul.

To be fair, Alice herself was also capable of immense cruelty but in a more playful, carefree manner.  Where Serena tortured hungrily, methodically, Alice simply dabbled: turning dials, attaching weights or applying probes as if for the first time, laughing in startled pleasure at the screams and desperate pleas that resulted, as if it was her first experience of having a man strapped into whatever device she was fiddling with.  Her childish enthusiasm was oddly effective: many men went to their deaths experiencing agonising pain at her delicate finger tips, yet still their last thoughts as the red tide of pain finally overcame their senses, was often what a sweet little thing she seemed to be.  Even those who had seen the horrific results of her playful exuberance at close hand managed to find her adorable, while also of course utterly terrifying.

This was the Alice who had finally allowed herself to be led giggling from her bedroom at home, through a pair of portals connected by dimensionless space, back to Serena’s underground laboratory.  For, dear reader, if you have neglected to click back on the link above to read the first part of this tale (and why not haven’t you?), you should know that Serena’s latest passion is portals: teleportation gates, each blue and orange pair linked inseparably, no matter how far the distance between them, much like Alice and Serena themselves who loved one another deeply, united by a bond far stronger than merely sexual desire for one another and for the suffering of men, although that was the root from which their romance had grown. 

Portals can be small:  small enough for a man’s genitals to poke through (as we saw in Part 1), leaving those unpleasant organs In Serena’s hands to do with as she wished, even though the male physically still attached to them was miles away (and also, of course, in Serena’s hands, even if not physically, to do with as she wished). They can also be large enough to travel through.  That was a slightly alarming concept to Serena, whose life’s work and favourite leisure activities all depended on males being unable to escape from the places she confined them, so she had taken precautionary measures, including a ‘dead-switch’ that she could flick to deactivate all portals under her control. Any male attempting escape through one when she did so would find himself merely dashing himself against the concrete walls of his cell. Of course, the dead-switch would also remove the connection between the various sets of genitalia and the remote males who wrongly considered those genitals ‘theirs’, resulting in instantaneous castration.   

You might guess that Serena would be unbothered by this thought but there, dear reader, you misjudge her, as Serena regarded any castration that was ‘instantaneous’ as being a waste, as well as somewhat unartistic.  Nonetheless, if she recoiled at the thought of any male’s castration being quick and near-painless, still more did she hate the thought of any of them escaping her control and so avoiding the retribution they so richly deserved for whatever wrongs they might have committed against women (she rarely bothered to try to learn specifics these days, as in her experience all men had), so the dead-switch never left her belt.

At the sight of the cabinet full of living male junk (an appropriate name, Serena had always thought), Alice cooed with pleasure again, especially at the sight of the dark purple flesh that had once been “Peter the lawyer’s” pride and joy.  She flicked at the bruised flesh hard with a finger, giggling delightedly at the thought of how sensitive to pain it must be, after its earlier treatment.  She pinched hard, digging her nails in and drawing blood. “Of course, if you’d rather we went back to my bedroom, it’s only a few steps away’ she began slyly, but Serena shook her head.  “I’ve something else I want to show you” she smiled, taking her wrist and leading her to a table in the corner of the room, leaving Peter the lawyer’s bits to fall to the ground (much like Peter the lawyer himself, who was presently writhing in agony on the floor of his well-appointed office near St Pauls, desperately trying not to alert any of his co-workers to his condition, as he knew full well that it was only the income from his high-paying job, transferred each month into Serena’s account, that explained why the 98% of his body that was not his genitalia was able to move, free of burn marks and largely intact).

“Take your panties off” Serena instructed her lovely blonde companion.

“Well, I wish you’d make your mind up” grumbled Alice.  “I mean, I’ve only just suggested that we go back to the bedroom but you – “

Her friend shushed her.  “And put this pair on” she said.

 

Alice gets ready to take part in an experiment exploring the physics of trans-dimensional space.

 

She was holding a pair of delicate cream silk panties from one finger.  Looking closely, Alice could see they seemed to have a reinforced gusset, as might be the case in a pair adapted to take a thin sanitary towel.  Both ladies were familiar with such garments, of course, both for their own use and (in a rather coarser format) because the design was ideally suited to dealing neatly with the mild bleeding and occasional oozing that often followed a castration, particularly if carried out with blunt cutting instruments, or even blunt instruments that did not cut at all.   However, this pair was different, because nestled in the soft material that would be going between Alice’s legs was a small dull oval, which Alice now recognised as an inactive portal.

“Where’s the other end?” she asked, but Serena merely smiled and dialled up a code on her phone.

The miniature portal flashed orange then, almost immediately, a tongue appeared.  It took up about half the area of the oval, the other half affording a glimpse into a dark, living space behind.  Alice could feel breath, as the tongue quested around for anything it should work on, and then subsided, part drawing back.  Clearly, the other portal was just inside some male’s mouth.

Alice grabbed the panties and pulled them on, enthusiastically.  Then she pulled them up tight, brushed her skirt down smooth and stood there, beaming up into her lover’s eyes.

“So what do we do?  Do we need to give him a signal to – ooh!”  She giggled.

“I think he got the – ooh!  Oh that’s very nice.  He’s very well-trained, this one, isn’t he?  Because, I – oh!  Oh yes, this is… this is…”

Serena broke into a broad smile, overjoyed to see her having such a good time.  She put her arms around her waist and hugged her tightly to her own body.

“You see, it’s just you and me here.” she murmured.  “We can have a perfect cuddle, undisturbed by any unsightly males, while still enjoying the benefit of one of the few things they can do to please a women.”  And she crushed Alice’s lips beneath her own.

The two stayed locked in the embrace for a while.  When they drew back to breathe, Alice gasped “Hey – I know!  How about if you wear one too!”

Serena smiled and kissed her innocent companion on the nose. “Already wearing one” she confided.  “I put it on when we got dressed and activated it at the same time as yours.  I just don’t make… Alice noises when I’m being served that’s all.”

“I don’t make – “ Alice began crossly, but proceeded to betray her own stifled protestations, by gasping desperately.

Serena just chuckled and kissed her again and for a while the two simply writhed in an embrace, the only sound being the ever louder urgent gasps and cries as Alice reached her fifth orgasm of the day (Serena herself was generally much quieter and in any event, the sounds of her own climax were usually hard to discern above the loud screams or the grinding, drilling and sizzling noises that often accompanied them).

 

No, none of these people are Serena or Alice either.  It's a quiz!  Five lovely ladies above, all looking quite happy but only two of them are wearing Serena's patented portal panties.  Can you pick the right two?  To make it easier, both ladies activated their portals about ten minutes before their pictures were taken so have been enjoying the attentions of some of Serena's most skillful 'employees' for a while. 

 

Eventually Alice flopped in Serena’s arms, smiling up at her goofily.  “That was… oooh, that was lovely!” she sighed contentedly. Then she frowned “Oops!  Need the little girls’ room – like I always do, afterwards.” And she made to pull the panties down, physics-defying insert and all.  But Serena just reached out to stop her, shaking her head slowly.

Alice looked confused (it is a tradition in Serena and Alice stories that Alice has to be far behind the curve and look sweetly confused at least once).  Then realisation dawned (well done, Alice, we knew you’d get there).

“Oh” she said.

“You mean, I can just…?”

Serena nodded.  “Right here. Go ahead.”

The two ladies stood in silence for a moment, gazing at each other.  Alice looked excited at first, then her eyes took on an increasingly far-away look.  Eventually she burst out giggling.  “Look: I can’t do it if you’re watching!”

Serena sighed and turned around.  “Better?” she asked.

“Or if you talk.” replied Alice, primly.  There was silence for a while.

“Oh, here we go” Alice remarked, after what seemed an age to Serena. “Oh yes.  Oh this is nice.  Mm… I needed that, I really did.  Oh.”

Then she burst out in surprised laughter. “Oh – he’s licking me clean!  What a well-trained boy!”

“One of my best” Serena nodded.  “He was already quite good when I recruited him and he was a volunteer too - fell in love with me, actually.  Those are often easier to train than abductees.  Plus, he has a low pain threshold which helps. One of the lowest I've ever encountered, actually”.  She smiled to herself, as if recalling a happy memory.

“Where is this one, then” Alice asked with interest. “Whose mouth did I just pee in?  Government Minister sitting quietly in his office?  Respectable family man in his ‘den’ at home?  Ooh – or a priest or bishop or something, pretending to pray by himself?  I’d love to piss in the mouth of a bishop - don’t know why, but I’ve always wanted to.  They’re so… pompous.”

“Not a bishop” laughed Serena, making a mental note because Alice’s birthday was just a few weeks away and she’d been unable to think of a special treat for her.  “In fact, this one’s strictly in-house. Very strictly, actually – come and see.”

She led Alice down a flight of steps into one of the many dark sublevels below the laboratory.  She flicked a light switch to reveal an empty room, with bare concrete walls.  The wall facing them was mottled in various – but not as many as fifty – shades of grey.

“Oh, I recognise this place.” Alice said, after a while. “You used to keep a lot of boys here. It was cages all over, you must have had at least fifteen in here.  But the room seems… smaller. Funny, because normally when you take the stuff out of a room it looks bigger.”

“I still store males here.” Serena replied.  “More than ever, actually.  I think there’s now” - she quickly checked her phone – “twenty-two.”

“But where?” wailed the reliably slow Alice.

“In the walls” smiled Serena.  “Look, I’ll show you.”

She pulled out an ominous, coffin-shaped box made of wood. Inside were some rough cardboard shapes, of the sort that oddly-shaped packages are often wrapped in for shipping.  She picked one up: it looked like the crudest possible face-mask.

Alice looked adorably puzzled, once again.  “But where are the boys?”

“The male goes in the box” Serena explained.  “I put these things on him – like a cardboard suit of armour, you see?  That’s to give him just a little bit of wiggle room when I pour the concrete.  The cardboard soon decays so it’s just him in the concrete space after that. It’s good to have a bit of an air pocket, so I don’t lose them all if there’s a power outage, or something.  Plus, they seem to die very quickly if you just pour wet concrete on them.  This way, they can stay alive in their little male-shaped bubble inside the concrete forever, as far as I can see. Haven’t lost one yet – not by accident, anyway.”

(Fear not reader: Alice is supposed to be delightfully slow on the uptake but not an utter moron.  She is not about to ask how the males can breathe or eat and drink entombed in concrete.  Given the context of the story, even Alice has worked that out.  If there are any readers who haven’t, I suggest you try simpler femdom sites that are more suited to your mental capacities, such as those with pictures of models with their tits out over impractical latex garments, pretending to be dominatrices by gritting their teeth at the camera and vaguely waving bullwhips.*)

“So all the stuff goes in and out…” Alice said wonderingly…

“Precisely” Serena beamed.  “Or round and round, for that matter.  Come and see.”

This lucky lad is just about to be fitted out with portals and cardboard protectors, before being boxed and placed in a hole in the wall just to the left of this picture. Then the concrete will be poured.  He is actually looking towards the wall where his brother has been placed, while his father is about six inches inside the concrete just behind his feet.  Serena managed to capture the full set, on a family fishing trip that went wrong (for them - for Serena it went quite well, as - obviously - it also did for the fish).  Serena disapproves of fishing for sport, considering it cruel.

 

She led Alice back upstairs, down a corridor and threw open some double doors to reveal a complicated machine.  Clear plastic pipes snaked around in convoluted fashion, all connected up to a triple row of shimmering orange portals, each of similar size to the ones sewn into the ladies’ adapted panties.  On the far right, a large plastic tank labelled ‘food’ contained a greasy greeny-brown mush.  As Alice watched, a pipe suddenly started gushing a lumpy reddish broth that raised the level of the mixture in the tank by about two inches and turned it appreciably darker.

“Comes from various waste disposal points in the lab” Serena explained.  “Obviously, there’s a standard food waste shredder to make sure that nothing goes in that’s too wide for the portals or might clog them up.  We flush all the recipents through with high pressure water once a week or so, just to make sure.”

“What do you feed them?” Alice asked.

“Oh, it’s mostly food waste.” Serena replied dismissively.  “I try not to let non-food ordinary household waste in too much – at least 75% of what’s in there is what might be considered edible, at a pinch, in normal circumstances.  It seems to keep them alive, anyway.”

“And the outflow pipes…?” Alice asked, with a keen interest.

“Don’t always outflow straight away, obviously.” Serena nodded.  “They can loop back so the same male eats or drinks his own excreta, or one another’s of course.  It’s easy enough to set up quite complicated routes and loops, actually.  If you time it right, the same food can pass through as many males as you like. One day I’m going to try putting a radioactive tag in the food to see how many of them I can get it through before flushing it away."

"Oh: we tried that before, didn't we?" Alice said enthusiastically. "You remember: when you were teaching me about the science of radioactivity!  You put a boy in a big metal box and dropped this special stuff in, and all his hair fell out!  It was funny."

"Yes, but that was plutonium.**" began Serena "I'm talking about trace elements of - "

"And he said 'Oh my skin feels itchy' and then it turned black and started peeling off!" giggled Alice, remembering the salient parts of her science lesson.  "He looked so surprised!"

Serena smiled, indulgently.  "Anyway", she said "it'll be fun to see how many times I can get the same piece of food to pass through them all.    Of course, I could just close the loop and they’ll just eat each other’s shit for ever.”

“Can we try?” Alice asked eagerly.

Serena looked serious. "No, that would kill them, so we can't do that. Not yet.  I don’t know how long it would take or what specifically they’d die of.  I’d keep the food going, so they wouldn’t starve but I suppose in some way they’d just clog up or burst under the pressure.  So… it’s going to be the grand finale to this little experiment, but I’m not ready yet – lots more I want to try first.”

Seeing the look of disappointment on her friend's face, she added "Don't worry.  I'll let you know when I'm ready to do it.  Maybe over Christmas, OK?"

Alice cheered up, but was then struck by a rather horrible thought.  “So the mouth that just licked me out has been…”

Again, the response was a shaking head.  “There’s a little warning that pops up if I’m about to spray shit into the mouth of one of the ones I’ve flagged for oral service.  So I don’t do that – not hygienic. In fact, that reminds me…”

She checked her phone, frowning, then selected a few options.

“OS23B?” she said, in a quiet speaking voice. “Oral service slave formally known as Lee Taylor?  You’ve been quite slack using your tongue lately, so now you’re going to taste something different.  You have a couple of seconds to say thank you Mistress, before your mouth fills with shit.”

A faint sound came from one of the tube-covered portals, before being cut off by a squelching, gurgling sound.

“All of you other oral service slaves?  I hope you’re paying attention.” she added.

“They can hear us?” Alice asked.

“Oh yes” Serena replied.  “Sorry, I suppose I should have told you.  There’s a mic here – I sometimes like to tell them what’s about to happen.  Or just talk to them about stuff.  It must be very isolating, being entombed in concrete, so I think it’s probably something they look forward to.”

“So… they heard our conversation just now?  They know they’re all destined to die choking on each other’s shit when you’ve finished playing with them?” Alice asked.

“When I’ve finished conducting my scientific experiments” Serena corrected.  “Yes."

"Well: they do now, anyway.” she added.

“That must be quite demotivating” Alice remarked.

“Plenty of motivational devices here” Serena laughed and she showed her friend the controls for the electric shock treatments.  Individual males could be shocked in various places and at various intensities, so Alice had fun at first pressing individual buttons, while trying to guess above which name a little light would go on indicating that electricity was being applied.  Most also screamed (those that didn't were probably in the process of being fed, or at least receiving some kind of solid matter through their feeding tubes). The screams could only be heard faintly, as of course they emerged inside the plastic feeding tubes. Alice thought the effect was rather lovely - soothing, like church bells heard in the distance would be to someone without Alice's fanatical sadism (or indeed to many people with it: it is an offensive caricature to believe that people like Alice and Serena who so love torturing, maiming or murdering cannot also apreciate the gentler pleasures in life).  

 Then Serena showed her how to set up multiple and timed shock patterns, and how to run pre-programmed sequences and Alice stood in wonder before the displays of flashing lights and accompanying muffled screams.

“So pretty” she smiled.  “I could watch all day.”

“Oh, but there’s more I want to show you” Serena smiled.  “Things you can do with portal-fitted males, here on the outside.”

“The lucky ones” nodded Alice, only half-listening to her friend as she continued to enjoy the son-et-lumière show.

“Not really” Serena replied.

This attracted Alice’s interest.  “Worse than being entombed in concrete being tortured with electric shocks – and nothing to look forward to but a slow death from being force-fed shit?” she asked, disbelievingly.

“Well, OK.” Serena conceded.  “Not strictly worse, necessarily.  But just as bad.  Come and see.”

And she led Alice away towards part 3.  At the door, Alice cast one last admiring look back at the lights flashing so prettily on the board and then the ladies were gone, and the muffled (but frantic and urgent) screams had no one but the empty room for audience. 

As I've said, I'm afraid I don't have any actual photographs of Serena or Alice.  However, I'm told by people who have met Serena and survived that this picture is extraordinarily similar to how they remember her, when they awake in the cold sweat of terror in the middle of the night.

It took a few years but Part 3 is finally here... 

* Actually, we feature those images here sometimes too.  But ironically, you know? 

** You might think Serena having access to Plutonium is a terrifying idea.  But actually, when you think about it, it's only marginally more terrifying than Serena not having access to Plutonium.  It's just one more thing, is all I'm saying.  If you want to read more about Alice's science lessons read Love among the test tubes.  It is the Serena and Alice story: so much so, that I didn't write another for years afterwards, because it all seemed to have been said.

Now you’re thinking with portals

A Serena and Alice story

Ages since I wrote a story about these two lovely ladies.  Serena is smart as a whip but hurts a lot more.  Alice is sweet and playful and kind... OK, not always particularly kind, to be honest.  But definitely playful.  Anyway, they make a lovely couple. 

Fans of sweet and affectionate lesbian relationships, especially those spiced up with a delicious sprinkling of brutal torture of males, might enjoy the following and even find themselves drawn to check out a few more, here.

Readers of a nervous disposition, in contrast, should instead contact Serena in person.  She'd love to get to know you better.

Finally, anyone who is completely cool with castration, torture and murder for sexual kicks but has no idea what the whole 'portal' thing is about should watch this.  I believe that GladOS is actually based on Serena, although obviously the game designers made her a much nicer person, for a mainstream audience.

What adventures await on the other side of this mysterious orange portal?  Step through and find out.

Now you’re thinking with portals

“Whee!” Alice laughed delightedly as she tumbled through the orange-rimmed oval into the waiting arms of her beloved Serena.  The two kissed passionately several times.

“That was my first time!” Alice gasped.  “It’s weird, isn’t it?  One minute I was there, the next I’m here… with you.” And she smiled, shyly.

“Faster than light” Serena nodded.

Alice’s pretty brow furrowed in puzzlement, as it occasionally does when the dialogue requires some explication.

“But – I thought faster-than-light travel wasn’t possible?  I thought scientists had proven that.”

“Male scientists” replied Serena.

“Oh I see” Alice replied.  “Yes, that would explain it.  My husband David has all sorts of funny ideas about speed and time. Just the other day I told him I needed the kitchen cleaned, the laundry done and dinner cooked all by 7 o’clock and he said it wasn’t possible!  I had to explain to him for almost twenty minutes that I wanted it done.”   

“And did he manage it all?” Serena smiled.

“Oh yes” Alice replied.  “In fact, he got it all done with five minutes to spare, even after I’d taken that extra time explaining.  In fact, he was begging to be allowed to get on with it less than halfway through my explanation.  He worked very hard after that – he’s a good boy, really.”

“But he lied to you – when he said it couldn’t be done?” Serena prompted.

Alice frowned again.  “Yes, I suppose he did, didn't he… the lying little toad!  I’ll have to talk to him about that.”

Serena felt a warm glow of satisfaction.  Although she felt no jealously towards David, she always liked to hear about him suffering.  As she did with all men, but David’s relationship with Alice gave her a special interest in his welfare, one she hoped would one day lead to his taking on a new role: as one of her experimental subjects*.  In the meantime, though, she enjoyed finding fault with him from a distance.  For his part, David had learnt to dread conversations with his beloved wife that began with “I was talking to Serena, and…”

“Anyway, obviously they got the maths wrong” Serena began.

“David does a lot of that, too” nodded Alice. “When we first got together, he used to use maths to try to get out of buying things for me.  Things I needed.”  She looked upset again.

“And now we have these amazing portals everywhere” Serena went on quickly, suddenly worried that her lover might have such a powerful urge to go and ‘explain’ things to David that she might step back home through the portal. “It’s astonishing how many uses there are for them.”

Alice took her hand and smiled up at her.  “Maybe.  But I don’t think I'm ever going to need another one, now I've got the link between my bedroom and here.”

The two embraced again, at length. 

Serena and Alice.  I believe this might not actually a picture of the two ladies, but David confirmed to me that this is very much how he sees them.  He told me that the one on the left is his beloved Alice and when I asked about the one on the right, he curled into a little ball and started gibbering about finding a happy place, so I guess that must be Serena.

“I mean, my bedroom’s just a few steps away...” Alice murmured, through her smooshed lips.

“And I’d love to step through with you” smiled Serena. “But I want to show you a few things first.  I’ve been thinking with portals!”

“Am I about to have a science lesson?” giggled Alice. Although not inclined towards intellectual pursuits, she had a keen curiosity about applied science, as long as it was being applied to males as painfully as possible – which, fortuitously, happened to be Serena’s main research interest too.

“What have you been doing with them… sending men to unpleasant places?”

“Oh, portals aren’t just transportation devices.” Serena replied.  “There are so many uses: they’re going to transform the world.  You can break the laws of thermodynamics with a well-positioned pair of portals, so you can have unlimited free energy, for example.  Imagine how that could liberate the world from toil and drudgery.”

Down the corridor, a naked male on hands and knees who had been scrubbing the floorboards with a small brush looked up.  Unluckily, he happened to meet Serena’s gaze and instantly dropped his head down again, applying himself still more vigorously to the task. A light sheen of sweat appeared, as he trembled in fear.

“Yes, well, I mean that toil and drudgery will become optional, anyway” Serena added, staring coolly at the labouring man. “Only available to a lucky few.”

“Who had better hope for a lifetime of toil and drudgery.” she continued, in a quiet voice that seemed nonetheless to carry effortlessly over to the male’s location.  “Because there are plenty of alternatives and believe me, they are all so much worse.”

She watched for a moment more, observing the brush which itself seemed close to breaking the lightspeed barrier, so quickly was it flashing back and forth.  A few tears splashed down and were vigorously rubbed into the wooden boards.  Serena didn’t mind that.  In fact she thought it provided a pleasant and delicate patina to a wooden surface.  When she’d had a new wooden floor put into her bedroom, she had worked most of the morning to acquire a bucket brimming full of male tears, to allow the whole surface to be thoroughly doused with this most enriching substance.

Serena took out a leather-covered box, of the sort an expensive ring would come in.  Which is exactly what it had been, when originally purchased to present Serena with one of the eleven engagement rings she had received in her life.  None of the men in question had ever actually become her husband, of course, but nine had succeeded in their ambition to spend the rest of their lives with her, and the surviving two were still working on it, deep in the cellars beneath her mansion house.

She opened it, to show Alice the ovals glowing orange and blue against the black velvet cushioning, one in the base and one in the lid of the unclasped box.

“But what’s the point when they’re so small?” Alice asked, supremely oblivious of the almost intolerable temptation she was placing on the author to make an obvious and very bad joke. 

“I’ll show you” smiled Serena, and she led her lover by the hand, to a well-furnished room, one side of which was occupied by a large glass-fronted cupboard that could serve well as a trophy cabinet.  Inside were the trophies: row after row of male genitalia, most of them with penises encased in a chastity device, some with permanent-looking piercings apparently achieving the same end.  Some were bruised or showed other signs of violent treatment; all had a gentle glow of orange or blue behind them, showing the presence of science’s latest triumph.

Serena opened the door and reached in, for a large, pallid and relatively undamaged example hanging under a sign reading “Peter the lawyer”.

Here's a picture of Peter the lawyer, in case you were wondering what he looks like.  This photo was taken the day he met Serena, I believe, which explains why he is still looking so calm and unbruised.  What's that?  You don't want to see pictures of Peter, you want pictures of the ladies?  Well, that's typical of the dismissive attitude to males in femdom porn, frankly.  He's central to the story too, you know.  He's the canvas on which the work of art will be created, after all.

She flicked open the chastity tube, which had been secured but not locked, removed it and handed the pallid pile of flesh to her companion.

After at first simply goggling at it lying helplessly in her hands, Alice turned it over in wonder.  She had held men’s genitals in her hands before, of course.  Sometimes living and attached to men, sometimes detached and floppy – more often the latter, since she had become Serena’s lover.  But never had she held a set of genitals that were both separated from their owner yet also, somehow, still attached.  For around the base of the penis and balls, where the arrangement would normally fuse seamlessly with the rest of a man’s body, glowed the orange light of a miniature portal some two inches in diameter, just like the ones Serena had shown her before.

Alice had little doubt that, wherever Peter the lawyer happened to be, there was a blue glowing ring between his legs, of just the same size as this one.  When she turned the genitals over to look closely into the ring, she could see how it cut across the still-living tissue.  Blood vessels pulsed gently, showing that vital fluid was circulating still in the penis that, although still very much attached to its owner’s body, was also in the extraordinarily perilous position of being in Serena’s trophy cabinet and indeed, in Alice’s hands.  For Serena, as a lesbian, genital torture was merely another way to inflict pain, but Alice - to her lover’s mild disapproval – was bisexual and her continuing heterosexual leanings provided her with a frisson of interest in a shapely cock. Of course, the end result of the two ladies’ interest in male genitalia was much the same, as Alice’s sexuality was firmly oriented towards the sadistic end of the spectrum.  But holding a living cock for her still provided some of the same thrill she had first experienced at school when she had felt a boy becoming hard in his trousers as he pressed against her in the school diner queue.  On that occasion, the boy in question had merely been expelled when she reported him, but the pleasure of punishing an errant penis had remained with her.

Soon there was no need to observe cross-sectioned vessels pulsing in order to deduce that blood was flowing into the spongy tissues of the penis, as Peter the lawyer, his penis liberated from the tight embrace of his steel tube, was responding naturally to the soft touch of Alice’s hands.  It was unconscious, simply an automatic sexual response - as was Alice’s desire to inflict unspeakable pain on him, when she saw what was happening.

“He’s being naughty” she remarked, handing the growing item back to Serena.  Serena smiled and grasped the end of the penis, firmly tweaking the end three times to the right.  “That’s a signal” she explained.  “In case he’s out in public: it’s to tell him to go somewhere private.  Let’s give him sixty seconds.”

She took a heavy bulldog clip and trapped a generous pinch of foreskin between its tight jaws then hung the ensemble from a hook in the wall.  From a small drawer she took a foot-long metal ruler and a tiny vicious-looking whip with eight thin leather strands, each terminating in a tight little knot.  She offered both soundlessly to Alice who dithered pleasurably for a few moments before selecting the whip. 

They waited a moment longer, then Serena said “That’ll do” and the two ladies went vigorously to work.

Alice had whipped men’s genitals before, of course.  But there was something delightfully different about flicking the thin leather strands across a pair of balls that dangled at the end of an object itself hanging from a clipped foreskin.  They moved more than she was used to, the punished testicles acting as the weight of a pendulum that swang back and forth as Alice rhythmically struck from one side to the other.  Serena got into the game too, cracking her ruler to accelerate the battered testicles as they swung back, at one point cracking so hard that they described a complete circle.

“We could try hooking them up to one of those… what do you call them – tennis things” gasped Alice, her eyes shining with excitement.

“Swingball!” Serena called back joyously, sending Peter the lawyer’s testicles hurtling around another full circle.  She grinned at her lover, delighted by her creativity.  It was Serena who usually came up with the most unpleasant ideas between the two of them, but she herself would be the first to admit she would not have invented half the things she had, without someone to show them off to. 

They batted back and forth for a few minutes more, then stopped to admire their handiwork.  Peter’s balls (or, technically, Serena’s balls that happened to be attached to Serena’s male body often designated 'Peter') were swollen and purple.  In places, burst blood vessels added a still darker patch to the abused flesh.  Serena took out her phone with satisfaction, dialled two digits and held it out on speaker.

“Th… thank you Mistress Serena” sobbed the man at the other end.

“And?” snapped Serena.

“And… and…. I deserved it, and I need the punis – “

“I mean, Miss Alice, you ungrateful little sod!” shouted Serena and clicked the phone off, in the middle of a gasped “Oh – thank you Miss A-“.  Then she grasped the abused scrotum hanging so forlornly on the wall and began twisting it around and around, swapping hands to maintain the tension as she did so. After six turns, the penis reminded Alice of a wet towel twisted around to administer a beating (another image that recalled fond memories of school days, when she had made boys beat one another to win her favour) but this time it was the rolled-up sausage itself that took the beating, as Serena expertly cracked the steel ruler across it, working her way around and down to ensure no nerve endings were left untreated.

Finally, she stopped, allowed the bruised, battered mass to unravel itself, and hung it back inside the cabinet, beneath the sign proclaiming the lucky recipient of the desperate nerve signals shrieking their agony out through the dimensionless portal, to be ‘Peter the lawyer’.

“Aren’t you going to put the chastity tube back on?” asked Alice, always alert to the danger that a male might obtain some enjoyment in what was intended to be the eternal misery of his life.  Serena cast an expert eye over the dark purple mounds that held the future of Peter’s genetic line.

“Probably no need” she murmured.  “Still: best to make sure” and she reached out and tugged the testicles smartly in a half-circle and down, in a single sharp motion.  “There” she said.

Serena had more things to show her dear sweet Alice, but Alice insisted on leading her back through her own portal, the one leading to her bedroom where, dear reader, whatever the laws of physics might say, you and I cannot follow.

[End of Part 1. Will there be a Part 2?  Who knows.  I certainly don't.  Update: now I do and here it is.  And even a Part 3]

It's OK, they've finished now.  You're allowed in to bring them breakfast when summoned.  It'll make a nice change for Alice, not to have to wait until that lazy bastard Dave finally gets around to thinking of someone other than himself... **

**(Actually this isn't a picture of them either.  I was asked not to use real pictures of either lady and when I asked why, Serena muttered something about needing to keep her anonymity so she can track down and 'collect' readers of this blog, whatever that means.  Anyway, she's a very private person.)

 *  Attentive readers might be aware that in an earlier story, that is exactly what happened.  But what is 'earlier' and what 'later' when we are dealing with concepts such as faster-than-light travel, which can break the laws of causality?  And, for that matter, with Serena and Alice, who have never yet encountered a law they did not feel they could break if they really, really wanted to?  Life is not linear.  It's more like a wibbly-wobbly ball of timey-wimey...stuff, anyway.

PS - It has just this second occured to me that although I created this series in 2011, the only professional dominatrices I have seen on any kind of a regular basis  in the last five years have been... Serena and Alice.  Both are utterly, utterly wonderful, neither is really much like the characters here***, but I just wonder... is this a subconscious thing?  Or might there be something to this time travel malarky after all?  Cue spooky music...

 *** Except, come to think of it, in hair colour.  Spooky ooky...