Tuesday, April 15, 2014

Descent into Slavery

I am writing this in the basement of the house in which I live with my owner. I am in pain, as I am much of the time. My testicles are currently clamped at level 4, which makes them ache constantly, though not enough to prevent me from moving, working, and serving my mistress.

My mistress is named Serena. She has not only given me permission to write this, she instructed me to do so. If I do a good job, I may have the testicle clamps removed for a while. Serena believe that her slave should be in constant discomfort, and that the absence of discomfort is a reward for good behavior and obedience.

My journey began when I was a teen boy experimenting with my sexuality, and discovered I liked the play of being tied up. I seemed to hook up with girls that were domineering and was never happy with the more submissive girls. I discovered my tastes were unpleasant and rejected by most girls so I hid them. Through out college I had "normal" relationships with girls. I love sex, and fucked a number of women during my early 20s.

In my late 20s I couldn't stand it any more. I needed something more, and girls sensed this. I never kept a girlfriend for more than a few months; none of them would dominate me, hurt me, or humiliate me the way I desired. So I looked around for a commercial dominatrix and after a few false leads and poor experiences I found Mistress Serena.

Serena is a tall thin girl, muscular and well proportioned. She has dark hair and a beautiful though stern looking face. When I first saw her I knew what I wanted.

Serena made it clear that she is not a prostitute. She charged money to dominate and hurt men that desired it, but there was never any sexual interaction of any kind. During my first visit she explained that I would never be naked in front of her, and she would never remove her clothes, either. I might disrobe as she pleased, but would always be wearing shorts or underwear. Nudity was not allowed.  She would not touch my genitals, nor would I be allowed to touch her body.

I agreed. The first session cost me $200 for one hour, and when I left my back was covered with red stripes, my knees scraped from crawling, and I had a throbbing erection that made me drive home fast to relieve myself. I masturbated three times after that first session. It was thrilling. Serena had tied me up, hurt me, demanded obedience, and I was in heaven.

Two weeks later I returned for another session. $400, two hours. I remember licking her black leather boots, and then being hung from the ceiling by my tied wrists wearing a hood that completely covered my head.  Two tiny holes allowed a minimum amount of air to enter, that was it. My wrists, arms and back hurt as I simply hung there with my toes inches above the floor, unable to see or hear what was happening. Suddenly, a whip kissed my body, wrapping around my back and chest. I jerked and screamed through the hood. The whipping was erratic, strokes coming at uneven intervals so I couldn't prepare myself for the pain.

Over the coming weeks my masturbation levels increased, and I thought of my mistress often. I didn't have enough money to go as often as I liked. All my spare money was saved so that I could go once every three or four weeks for a two hour session. My boss once asked me if I was OK one Monday, because I was walking gingerly. I was still sore from the beating Serena had given me the Saturday before.

Serena raised her prices to $300 an hour. There was demand for her services; other men were coming to her house and she didn't need to work all the time. She has a regular job during the days, and being a dominatrix has always been extra cash for her, and because... well, because she loves it. She is also gorgeous and can pick and choose who she takes.

In spite of the increased cost, I continued to go to Serena's whenever I could. I brought her tributes when I could afford it. A new leather hood one month, a couple of months later a flogger. I was proud of the inflatable gag. The most expensive item I ever bought her was a stainless steel male chastity device.

I guess it was the chastity device that caused the shift in our relationship. When she received it, she sat down on the couch with me kneeling in front of her. We had a conversation that went something like this.

"You know I can't accept this."

"I understand I am not worthy, but it is simply a sign of my devotion."

"You apparently don't understand. The device works by direct application to genitalia. I am not a whore, I do not accept money for sexual activity, and by giving this to me and paying me you are telling me I am a whore."

At this I shook and flung myself at her feet. "No, Mistress Serena, I never meant anything like that. Please forgive me!"

Serena thought for a moment, "Well, I can take one of two actions here. Return this gift to you and then beat you within an inch of your life, or accept this gift from someone that wishes to enter into a permanent relationship with me as sex slave. No more money. No more restrictions. You would be mine to do with as I please. Sex, pain, love, whatever. Permanently."

I lay on the floor breathing hard, sweating, not knowing what was going to happen.

"Which way do you think we should go?"

This was the first time Serena had ever asked me a question or given me a choice. I was a little taken aback, but I also understood I would be making a decision to escalate our relationship from one of a client paying for services to that of a sex slave owned by my mistress.

"Mistress Serena, I am yours. I have been yours for many months. I wish for nothing else."

Serena thought for a moment and then answered.  "Very well. Stand up and remove your underwear."

I shook nervously as I stood and dropped my underwear. This was the first time I had ever exposed myself completely to her, and it was a very emotional (and scary) experience. My penis stuck straight out, hard, and bounced very slightly at the rapid beating of my heart.

Serena went into the kitchen and brought back a bowl of ice.

"Place your penis in the ice," she said. I did as she wished. The ice immediately began to shrink my erection, and after a minute was hurting.  "Keep your disgusting flesh in the ice, slave."

It took 10 minutes for my cock to shrivel completely, I was so aroused. But finally, it was a tiny lump of flesh and Serena took the chastity device and placed my genitals inside. It was the first time my mistress had touched my penis or scrotum. She slid the small lock in place, snapped it shut and tested it to make sure it was secure.

"Session is over for now. Come back next Saturday morning, 8:00AM. Get out."

I dressed and left, my genitals locked securely away. As I drove home I realized I was not going to be able to masturbate as I had every time I had been to Serena's before. Feeling the cage between my legs aroused me, I started to get hard. There was no room in the device, and my incipient erection began to hurt, which caused the erection to subside. I was frustrated, and excited. I couldn't wait a week to see Serena again. I wondered if she would remove the chastity device, and whether I would ever see her naked. I had never before considered that it might be possible, that she might remove her clothes and allow me to see her nude. But now, it seemed like perhaps...

For the first time, I considered that there was some inkling of a possibility that I might be able to enter my mistresses body. I immediately became erect again, and suffered all the way home.

In fact, I suffered the entire week. My cock was constantly trying to grow and expand in its cage, and consequently I was in constant discomfort. My boss at work questioned me again, and even told me I might want to see a doctor when he found me in the back room bent over, sweating and groaning.

Thursday night I tried to work around the cage, or even get it off. My skin chaffed and testicles ached and hurt with my struggles. Eventually it because clear that I might be able to get it off, but there might be some damage to my testicles, and I began to remember that I had to present myself to Serena on Saturday, and she would not take kindly to my having removed the device. I decided to stop my attempts to get it off.

Saturday morning came and I woke early. I was so excited that I got out of bed and hour early, dressed and headed over to Serena's house. She lived in a semi-rural neighborhood where people could come and go discreetly. I sat in the car at the end of her drive waiting for 8AM. When it arrived, I drove up to the house, got out and rang the doorbell.

Serena opened the door and allowed me to enter. She was wearing very casual clothes, unlike our usual sessions. Instead of leather pants and a corset she was wearing jeans and a rough work shirt. In spite of this, she looked more beautiful and sexy than I had ever imagined. I worshiped her.

We sat down at her kitchen table. The whole situation felt very different, her attitude felt different, my level of arousal and anticipation was heightened; I didn't know what to expect.

She produced some legal documents.  The first was a slave contract. It defined the terms and conditions of our relationship. In summary, she was in charge. Her word was law, I was to obey. I could cancel out of the agreement at any time, that was clear. There was a clause that assured that our separate property would remain separate; any gifts, transfer of wealth, or other property which I gave her while the contract was in force would remain hers, and any property that was mine would remain mine. I had no rights to "community property" or half of anything. Anything I owned would remain mine, unless I gave it to her, at which point it would obviously be hers. This made sense to me.

The slave contract also outlined that while she would not do anything to risk my life, that she was to be the judge of all discipline and that I did not have a say in it. The only action I could take was to opt out of the contract. No safe words -- the only safe word was to cancel the contract and leave. I was either in or out.

As I sat reading the contract my cock was rock hard, bent and pressed and smashed inside the horrible cage I had purchased and given to her just the week before. The idea of being completely subservient to Serena, of giving myself and my freedom to her, allowing her complete control over my body... it just drove me crazy with desire. It was hard to read the contract. I could smell her body, hear her breath, sense her presence at every moment.

There were other conditions and terms, less fundamental but still called out.

I signed, and she signed, and the deal was done.

The next document was a model release. I was a little surprised, but she informed me that she intended to take pictures of me, or have someone else take pictures of us when we were together, and that it was a legal necessity. It was a weird request, but also one that excited me. I loved the idea of our games being caught on film. It made me feel even more vulnerable and helpless, which was what I wanted, down deep inside.

I signed the model release, and it was done. I was Serena's sex toy pain slut slave.

My chastity device never came off that weekend, though many of my wishes were fulfilled during those two days, and they were mixed with frustration and pain as I had never experienced. Yes, I saw Serena naked from the waist up, her breasts magnificent before me. I was punished severely for gaping at them, placed on my back on a table with my legs pulled apart and my balls beaten with a leather belt. Yes, we had sexual intercourse, but it was completely different than I had ever imagined; my penis wasn't involved at all. Instead, she rammed my ass with a huge strap on, filling and stretching me until I whimpered for mercy.

I slept at Serena's house for the first time, after a full day of service to her. I slept in the basement in a small cage. A bucket was provided for urinating and defecating. Left overs scraped from her dinner plate were placed in a dog bowl for me to eat as when I was hungry.

Serena took pictures of me in my cage that Sunday. The bucket was clearly visible as were its contents. My food bowl showed signs of my eating. She let me out of the cage and had me roll over onto my back, legs high in the air and spread to show my locked genitalia.

Sunday night I was sent home at 6:00 PM, and told to return the following Saturday at 8:00 AM once again.  I asked if I could have the chastity device removed before I left and Serena looked at me as if I had grown a third eye. I left with the device still on. I was growing to hate it.

That week at work was truly difficult. The chastity device bothered me every second, mostly because I was aroused and it hurt. I could never get a real erection; but the arousal was still there and I could think of nothing but Serena's beautiful breasts and being butt fucked by her. The lock on my genitals reminded me that I was hers, owned by her, under her control, every waking moment.

The next weekend I finally had the male chastity device removed, so I could bathe. Or rather, so Serena could bathe me. She washed my body in the shower, including my cock and balls. It was heaven to be naked in the shower with her; our bodies touched at times, and my erection was constant. I almost came when she washed me with her soapy hands.

That night before I was placed in the cage Serena took the scrapings of her dinner and placed them in a bowl for me as she had before. This time she told me to position myself over the food, and then masturbate. It had been two weeks since I had ejaculated and I was filled with sperm, ready to cum. I straddled the plate and began stroking. It took no time at all before I was grunting and spewing semen out all over my food. When done, Serena placed me in the cage along with my sperm topped food and locked me in.

I ate the food; I was hungry. That was the first, but most certainly not the last time I ate my own sperm.

This situation went on for six weeks and it became more difficult for me to do my job. I was exhausted at the beginning of the week, sometimes sore and bruised from serving my mistress this entire time. If I was in chastity, the device was mildly uncomfortable but bearable. If I was not restrained, it was worse. I had a constant erection and spent time in the bathroom pleasuring myself, constantly.

The solution came the weekend that Serena suggested I quit my job and move in with her, permanently. This was a big step but a natural one. By this time Serena had become the most important single thing in my life; my job was good and I would have preferred to keep working, but it was getting difficult. So that week I gave two weeks notice and packed things from my apartment.

When I was ready to move, Serena came over and told me there was very little I could bring with me. Clothes were in general unnecessary. So was furniture (she had what was needed) or a bed (I didn't sleep in one any more, unless she might allow me into hers). So we held a garage sale and sold just about everything. The few items she allowed me to keep she said I should donate to her, along with the proceeds of the garage sale. I handed over the cash (there was only about $200 from the garage sale) and a couple of furniture items she said she could use around the house.

I moved in.

Sleeping with Serena in her bed was out of the question. She didn't want me in her bed unless it was to serve her or for her comfort. At times I gave her massages, and she frequently had me lay down so she could sit on my face. What happened when she sat on my face varied; usually I stimulated her until she came, sometimes several times. If she was particularly horny, she pressed down hard, making it all but impossible to breathe. A few times she sat on my face and urinated or defecated. These times I cried, it was so humiliating and disgusting. Serena would look at me with concern, and then laugh.

Serena did sleep with others, both men and women. Sometimes she made me watch, or even lick her boots while she was being thrust into by some other guy's cock. She had a boyfriend for a while. He didn't like me, and she allowed him to torture me at times. I served him as I served her. One day I was tied with my arms above my head and legs spread apart and her boyfriend kicked my balls, repeatedly. I screamed and begged for mercy, which just seemed to spur him on. Serena finally called a halt to it, not wanting me to be damaged permanently. I was her property, after all.

Her boyfriend also fucked me a couple of times. I am not gay and it was really disgusting to me. The first time I took his cock in my mouth I thought I would choke and vomit, but I kept it there. He just shoved it in and out; I didn't have to do much. Another time he fucked me in the ass. The worst part of the whole process was after he came I had his semen in my mouth, or in my ass, or dribbling down my leg or chin. I wanted to die at those times. Serena took pictures and enjoyed the scene.

It was after being abused by Serena's boyfriend that I began to wonder if I wanted to stay with her. So much of my life was exactly what I wanted; I was happy with Serena, though being humiliated like that was very, very difficult for me. I don't know... during the entire time I was being raped by her guy I had a hardon. It wasn't because of him, like I say I am not gay. It was because he was an instrument of Serena. I was subjugated by her, and that had become very, very easy to accept.

Soon after she broke with her boyfriend (threw him out, actually), I mentioned to her I was glad and that I had begun having doubts. We were actually out together, shopping at Home Depot to get stuff for her house. I was in chastity, and wearing one of three basic outfits I kept for going out into public. These clothes were basically all I owned at that time.

I had been living in her house for a year and a half at this time.

When we got home, Serena called me over to show me something on her computer. She brought up a web site. When I saw it I was shocked. There were pictures of me, all over it. In fact, it was a sort of expose of my slavery, including all the most humiliating and debauched aspects of my behavior. I flushed as I realized just how low I had sunk, how these images of me made me look like the worst of degenerates.

There I was on all fours, getting ass fucked by her boyfriend with an odd look that might have been pleasure on my face.

There I was in my cage with my own semen dribbling down my chin, looking pathetic.

Another picture of me showed my tongue out licking Serena's boots, my face smeared with drool.

And there... a picture with my face smeared with her shit, looking unhappy.

She told me what was going on.

"This web site is secured right now. It requires a password to get in, and I am the one with the password. You signed a model agreement when you committed to be my slave, and these pictures are mine to do with as I please."

Serena leaned over and caressed my face lovingly. "And you see dear, you can leave any time. Of course, the moment you leave, this web site goes public, and the extensive library of pictures and movies I have of you will go out on the internet. You won't be able to get a job, or a girlfriend, or... well, do much of anything except maybe be a submissive male fetish model or beg your way into some desperate old woman's house."

I sat, shocked with the realization that she had me locked in to her slavery so much more securely than I had ever imagined. Our private relationship was something I desired, and reveled in. But if it were made public, it would make life very, very difficult.

"And lastly dear, you forget that you sold your car, and transferred your bank accounts to me. You have no money. If you leave, I will give you one set of clothing and $50. After that, you would be on your own. Good luck going back to your Mom after I email her the web site URL."

That was it. I had voluntarily given up everything in my life, slowly but surely. She owned what little I had, even my clothes. She also owned what little dignity I had, and could squeeze and mold and destroy it whenever she pleased.  I sat numb, the realization that I really was her slave, owned by her, completely dependent on her.

"Now, slave. Get out of those clothes. Tonight, I think I might let you fuck me."

My jaw dropped. In a year and half of being with Serena as her owned slave she had never allowed me inside her body. I had been made to watch while she fucked others, of course, which was a form of torture all by itself. But I was never allowed to touch her for my own pleasure.

That night, it happened, but not the way I thought.  That night I was brought into her bedroom. Serena was naked, and my cock was instantly erect.

She took a cream and began smearing it on my scrotum, then behind my scrotum and finally into my anus. It felt cool and nice, and I thought perhaps it was a type of lube. That didn't make sense though, because she very carefully kept it from getting on my hardened cock.

I realized why a minute or two later when it began to burn. It was Capsaicin. Wow did it burn. I began to whimper and beg for relief. Everything between my legs was on fire within a few minutes, and tears came to my eyes.

Serena positioned me at the foot of her bed, facing it. She took a thin cord that she had tied to the bed frame and tied it securely around my flaming testicles. Then she lay on the bed and spread her legs invitingly.

"Come, fuck me. Now, I want you inside."

In spite of the pain between my legs, the sight of my mistress naked and spread wide for me was all I needed. I moved forward, ready to mount her.

The rope on my balls pulled me back.

"Come, dear. Now. Fuck me." Serena was demanding.

I moved forward further, still crying from the pain between my legs; the rope around my balls kept them behind as I pulled further and further up. My cock touched her inner thighs, I could almost feel her moist pussy... but the rope had my balls stretched far behind me, perhaps six inches or more. Not only did the pepper cream burn my flesh, my balls were stretched taught and aching.

"Fuck me! Now!" Serena barked the order, not kidding. She wanted it. I pushed further, the pain in my balls growing. The tip of my cock reached the softness of her pussy and that one sensation made me not care what other pain I was in, I would enter her. I thrust. My balls stretched behind me, aching agonizingly, but I was inside! Inside Serena, for the first time! She was soft, and wet, and warm, and sliding in I felt the texture of her vagina... and I thrust again.

Each thrust brought new waves of pain, and new heights of pleasure. I felt Serena's body under me as we fucked, pain swathing my hips and legs, the act of pleasure with her an act of pain for me. It didn't matter. My thrusts became more urgent, and she raised her legs high and wide, and with a few more thrusts I shuddered, pushing deep, pulling my testicles back and stretching my scrotum farther than I ever thought it could go, but it was worth it, every bit of pain was worth it because I was cumming inside my mistress. My orgasm shuddered through my body, and when it was over I backed up, relieving the pressure on my balls, and rolled onto my back with legs spread. I burned, burned down there, ached and burned and was spent.

I've been allowed to enter Serena since then, but never without some price. There is always pain involved, and it is always worth it. Whether it is needles that thrust into my balls with each thrust of my cock into her, or a burning hot curling iron in my ass positioned so it impales my ass each time I withdraw, I am in agony and in ecstasy when I am allowed to fuck her.

It has now been four years and I have completely accepted my role. I barely remember what it was like to be free.

This story will be placed on the secured web site my mistress maintains to record my depravity. I am now totally and entirely hers, I am owned by her. It is not consensual. I have no choice. I gave up the choice by my own free will, and now live with the commitment made. I gave up the choice freely, and am now trapped in the consequences.

Mistress Serena says she has a new cage for me tonight. She says it is much smaller than the old one, and that I won't be able to lay down in it. I hope she removes the testicle clamps first. They hurt. Really bad.

Thursday, February 6, 2014

Human Experimentation: Beta (Enhanced Sperm Production)

The tall brunette stood and looked through the one way mirror at the prisoner wearing an orange jumpsuit in the next room. She was a beautiful woman with brown eyes and a solemn face, large lips and high cheekbones. Her white lab coat bore the name "Dr. Clarice Sykes" stitched in blue.

The prisoner fidgeted, bored in the plain white room. The metal chair was uncomfortable and a single table in the center of the room was bare. He had been there for almost a half hour.  A chain around his waist extended to a ring in the floor. He was locked in place.

Dr. Sykes turned to two other young women in the room with her, both wearing lab coats bearing their names and titles.

"As you know, this is prisoner Beta. He represents the state of this study at this time. His treatment so far has taken three weeks. It began with basic hypnosis, followed by the study medication. In the last week we have taken his natural responses and tied them to certain external stimulus. The results are satisfying so far."

Dr. Sykes opened a microphone connection to the next room. She pressed a small device in her hand that made a sound. Click Click. Two clicks, one right after the other. She then turned off the microphone and the three medical researchers watched.

The prisoner reacted immediately. At first a puzzled and slightly panicked look spread over his face. One hand slid down to his crotch and he started stroking himself through his pants.  The researchers could see the young man already had an erection, clearly visible through his prison uniform.

"You observe that the erection is immediate. He isn't completely aware of what is happening, he simply has an irresistible urge and is satisfying it."

The prisoner was moving around in the chair, still rubbing his erection through the material of his pants.

"In time we hope to get Beta to the point of ejaculating almost immediately after a command is given. At this point you can see that he is merely masturbating, and needs encouragement even with this."

Dr. Sykes opened the microphone and clicked two more clicks. Click click.  The sound made the prisoner whimper slightly, his eyes widening as if in fear or some dark need that was flooding over him. He gurgled slightly, trying to rub himself harder, and then reached to the jumpsuit zipper. Sliding it down quickly, he spread it open and reached down to his groin, pulling out his hardened penis and testicles.

"It won't take long now. The drugs he is on increase sperm and semen production significantly, and his body will be ready... ah... I think here it is." The three women crowded close to the one way mirror, watching the male prisoner's physical convulsions as he reached a climax.

The prisoner had his head back as he rubbed his cock violently, up and down, his hip thrusting up, straining. With a gasp, he thrust his hips up and away from the chair and his penis pulsated as white liquid spurt several feet into the air. Continuing to stroke, the man kept the almost constant stream of semen spewing out for almost 15 seconds, shaking and convulsing with climax.

With an sudden movement the prisoner collapsed back down to the chair, arms hanging limply at his sides, penis beginning to sag. Bits of white slime covered the table in front of him, and at one point dripped to the floor.

"That is certainly impressive Dr. Sykes, though I was hoping to see a little more. How long do you think until the final goal is reached?" asked a petite, pretty blond with the title "Section B Chief" on her lab coat.

"We are almost there. Getting the dose right was a challenge, and the hypnosis technique is still undergoing refinement. I would say in about two weeks we could reconvene and see the results we had predicted. In the meantime, let me show you something interesting."

Dr. Sykes left the observation room, and a moment later the door to the prisoner's cell opened. The prisoner stood up as she entered, seemed to realize his jumpsuit was unzipped and he was exposed, and immediately shoved his genitalia back inside his clothes. He appeared embarrassed at being caught in this way.

Pointing to the spray of semen covering the table, Dr. Sykes spoke to the prisoner. The two researchers in the observation room listened.

"Glenn. Is this yours?" Dr. Sykes pointed to the semen covered table.

Staring at the white liquid, the prisoner shook his head. "No doctor. No. I didn't do that. I mean, how... I don't think so. I sometimes, you know, recently, since you have been treating me... please..."

"Glenn, your complete lack of control is getting out of hand. We are finding you masturbating in public more and more now. It is not only completely socially unacceptable, it isn't hygienic. We may need to up your meds."

"Dr. Sykes, is that really necessary? They make my balls hurt, they really do." The prisoner seemed to shrink from the figure of the tall woman standing over him as his voice took on a plaintive, begging tone.

"Perhaps your testicles should hurt more. You know that we are going to have to punish you for this lack of control. I don't want to but it is becoming a necessary part of your treatment. Unzip."

Dr. Sykes motioned toward the man's jumpsuit, indicating he should unzip it.

With a panicked voice, the prisoner begged, "Please. Dr. Sykes. I don't know what came over me but I won't do it again. It isn't necessary to punish me. Really. Please. Please."

Dr. Sykes waited, and finally the prisoner unzipped his orange outfit and reluctantly pulled out his genitals so they were exposed. The woman leaned over and placed a small clamp on the prisoner's exposed testicles. He grimaced, and moaned slightly.

"God, that hurts. Dr. Sykes... ahaahhhhhh.... please, don't make me wear the clamp. I can hardly walk. God, it hurts..." The prisoner had begun rocking back and forth.

Two clicks. Click Click. Hidden in her pocket, Dr. Sykes had issued the conditioned response command. The prisoner shook and when he leaned back the women in the observation room saw his penis was erect and hard once again-- in spite of the painful clamp on his testicles.

"He just ejaculated five minutes ago. What is she doing?" said the "Section B Chief" to the other woman as they watched through the one way mirror.

The prisoner was stroking his exposed penis, rapidly. He moaned out loud, whether from pain or pleasure or both was unclear, but he continued stroking as Dr. Sykes stood by him, observing closely. Faster and faster he went, hips straining, head back, stomach tense as his hips moved with his strokes. It took a little longer than the first time, but very soon he grunted, cried out, and a thick stream of semen spurt from him once again. The ejaculate spewed as far as the first time, the force of the orgasm just as intense.

15 second later the prisoner collapsed once again, but this time he fell forward, the pain in his testicles causing him to double over. He head fell on the table, his forehead smearing the thick globs of semen. He sobbed a little, and then raised his head to look at Dr. Sykes.

"Please.. I am so sorry. I don't... understand. Please help me." Tears streamed down his cheeks.

"I will help you Glenn. I am doing my best. I think you should wear the clamps for a little while longer. I will come by your cell to remove them tonight after dining hall." The beautiful woman turned and left the room. Just as the door closed, a sound was heard.

Click Click.

"Oh... god oh god oh...aaaaaaahhhhh" the man's penis wasn't erect but he began stroking it compulsively. After about a minute, it was hard.

Dr. Sykes returned to the observation room and spoke with the other two women. "Well, there you have it. The speed of the conditioned response is not there yet, but the strength of it is clear. The clamps on his testicles are quite painful, and yet he has no hesitation in masturbating, and the orgasm comes as quickly as before. Even after he had a previous ejaculation only minutes before."

The three women watched as the prisoner stroked his raw cock, hard.

"You can see his skin is raw and even starting to bleed, but the compulsion is overwhelming."

The prisoner was jerking himself harder, frustrated by his inability to climax, going faster, pushing and trying to reach satisfaction. He kept working on it, harder and more intense.

"It really hurts him, doesn't it?" Said the Section B Chief.

"Oh, yes. Not just the clamps, but his penis is raw and ragged from constant rubbing. As well as the excess sperm production, which causes testicular pain and cramping. He is really caught in a vicious cycle; he is producing a lot of sperm and semen, and the hypnosis has created an irresistible urge to relieve himself, which causes a lot of pain and humiliation itself. He has no choice, though."

"Good work, Clarice." The other woman turned to Dr. Sykes and gave her a deep tongue kiss, her arms wrapping around her lover just as the prisoner in the next room let out a howl and spurted white slime out over the table once again.


Two weeks later the Section B Chief watched her lover, Dr. Clarice Sykes, enter the room where the same prisoner sat. This time his wrists were shackled to the arms of the chair.

"How have we been doing, Glenn?" Dr. Sykes asked kindly.

The prisoner lowered his head, terrified and shaking. "F-f-f-fine... Dr. S-s-s-ykes."

Click Click.

"AAAHhhhh! Ahhhoowwww... aaahhh! Oh god..." The prisoner moaned and then was still. A slight wet spot appeared in his orange jumpsuit between his legs.

"I see. Except... what I see isn't to my liking, Glenn. You appear to have lost all body control."

Click Click.

Barely 30 seconds later, the second conditioned command was issued.

"Oh. OH. Fuck.... ohohgodgod..... aaaaahhHH!!!" The prisoner writhed in his chair a moment, his wrists attempting to get free, reaching for his groin. It wasn't needed. He had come in his pants again, spurting more white sticky semen into his underwear.

"Glenn, this almost constant loss of body control, the inability to control your urges and keep your fluids inside of yourself... I am afraid we may have to do something drastic."

"Oh.... " the prisoner was panting from two sexual climaxes occurring one after the other. "Please.. what are you going to do?"

"Well, the only thing I can think of, given the circumstances. We may need to opt for castration."

"NNOOOooooooo......." the prisoner's howl was pathetic, but as it faded, the slight sound was heard again.

Click Click.

Writhing in place the prisoner shuddered with orgasm and then felt his pants fill with slime that overflowed and trickled down his leg. His orgasm and ejaculation was almost immediate after the trigger sound, and required no touching or stimulation of his genitalia.

Dr. Sykes left the room and joined her lover in the observation room. She came up behind the petite blond wrapping her arms around the woman from behind, nuzzling her neck.

They watched the despairing prisoner together as he sat exhausted in the chair, the wet spot in his pants very slowly spreading.  Suddenly, the man began writhing again, moaning loudly, tears running down his face as his hips thrust involuntarily. He shuddered through another orgasm, more slime filling his pants, draining down his leg and dripping onto the floor.

"You didn't give him the command."

"No," Dr. Sykes said quietly. "He is so thoroughly conditioned he reacts to random clicking sounds now. I think the air conditioning is clicking slightly, which is causing his conditioned response. I wasn't kidding about castrating him. If we don't he is likely to kill himself trying to masturbate and ejaculate every few minutes."

"Hmmm.... can I do it?"

"Castrate him? Of course. He is yours." Dr. Sykes turned her lover around, kissing her deeply.

The agony and despair of the chained prisoner in the next room spurred both of them on, clothes were discarded and the two made love until they both had experienced orgasms to the music of the ravaged howls of the man in the next room as he slowly and painfully disgorged more semen than ever thought humanly possible, the puddle beneath his seat slowly growing.

Sunday, November 3, 2013


"It hurts," he said.

"It's supposed to hurt," she said.

Looking up into her face, he tried to remember what had happened.

Ryan hadn't meant to stalk her, but there was no way he could ignore a woman that beautiful. Just last week he had passed her heading in from campus parking lot E, making him do a double take as she walked close by. A tall woman with young face but air of authority, long brown hair in a pony tail, white lab coat covering a perfect figure, he could do nothing but stare. Her light scent of perfume was mixed with another, more penetrating scent.

Tonight, as Ryan headed back to his car after his last late class, she was steps in front of him. He followed her by coincidence but with every step he felt himself getting harder, more aroused, just watching the beauty gliding before him.  When they reached the parking lot and she opened the trunk of her car he slipped up behind her, wrapped one arm around her waist and the other around her mouth to keep the screams muffled...

And then there was the stinging eyes; he couldn't breathe. Something knocked him to the ground, he hit his head and everything went black.

Now here he was, stark naked, wrists and ankles tied to the table. The goddess was working next to him, still wearing her lab coat. She turned to him and focused the attention of cold gray-green eyes on his groin. He didn't see it, but he could feel the knife slice through his scrotum.

"Please... no, it hurts. Don't hurt me. I didn't mean any harm, I wasn't going to hurt you."

She said nothing as she worked, manipulating the heavy flesh of his ball sack. Pain pierced through his groin; not terrible pain but enough he could tell that she was slicing him open. His groggy mind worked, trying to figure out what was happening.

The woman rolled the high wheeled stool on which she sat to the side and rolled back with an odd device that had a mirror sitting on top of a post. Positioning it over his body she moved the mirror back and forth on a hinge, trying to get the angle right. He looked up and didn't understand what he was seeing at first.

"I think you should be able to see what I am doing. I am Simone, by the way. The girl you tried to rape earlier tonight. I'm the anatomy teaching assistant. That means I really do all the work, the prof comes in once in a while, but I run the lab and do all the practical instruction." The woman resumed work, selecting a scalpel from a side table.

Ryan looked into the mirror and saw the red bloody tissue spread wide and realized she had sliced open his scrotum, taking the flesh and spreading it out so that it lay on the insides of his thighs. Laying in the center of the wide sheet of his scrotal flesh were two whitish lumps with trailing tails. His testicles.

He began to sob. The pain was suddenly much greater and he struggled against the straps that held his wrists above his head, and his ankles spread wide below. As he struggled the straps around his waist held his body in place. He could writhe, strain, protest, struggle, but he wasn't going anywhere.

"Please, please, please, don't do this. Simone. What are you doing? You won't get away with it; if you sew me up and let me go now I will forget about it!" He begged.

"I think I have more of a chance of getting away from this than you did getting away with rape. Anyway, it's too late now. And we have so much fun in store!" Simone smiled at him and then reached one hand down. He watched in the mirror as she picked up one naked testicle in her hand, sliding the scalpel knife under the fleshy lump. With a sawing motion she cut quickly through some tissue that attached the testicle to the inside of the scrotal flesh.

Ryan shook, feeling the pain as Simone worked cutting his flesh. The pain wasn't that bad, but the sensations were so strange, and seeing his body being cut like that almost made him faint. Spots appeared before his eyes, and he made a gurgling noise.

When Simone had completely freed one of the testicles so that it dangled only by the tubing at the top, she duplicated the work on the other. The emotional impact of having Simone's bare hands handling his unprotected testicles almost drove Ryan insane. He was shaking, horrified, and he babbled protests as she finished the job of cutting his testicles free of the scrotum.

Simone turned to the side again, and returned with her attention focused on Ryan's face. "Oh, my poor Ryan. Yes, I know your name, I checked your driver's license from your wallet. It's over there, in that bag with your clothes."

She indicated a large plastic storage bag. Ryan recognized his pants, shirt and shoes inside. His underwear and other items must be in there as well.

"You are sweating. I know it is painful, but it is necessary. No pain no gain, as they say," Simone seemed cheerful as she wiped sweat off Ryan's face with a sterile cloth. When Ryan opened his mouth to beg once again, Simone slipped the cloth inside his mouth, burying it deep down his throat and then stuffing more and more inside. Ignoring Ryan's muffled attempts at speech, she kept shoving until the entire cloth was inside his mouth, distending his cheeks like a balloon.

"Sorry about this, but for the next part you will probably be screaming. Everyone has gone home, but I don't want some errant security guard out on the quad hearing your cries." Simone took a long strip of medical tape and ran it over Ryan's mouth, securing the wadded cloth inside. Ryan continued to attempt screams, cries, begging, but nothing intelligible came out and the sound was muffled quite effectively.

"Let's get back to work, shall we? You know, you wanted to rape me a little while ago. I think it might be nice to show you what you were going for. Maybe a bit frustrating for you, but hey... it will enhance the experience."

With this, Simone undid her lab coat and removed it, revealing a tight knit blouse that showed an amazing figure. She spoke as she took the bottom of her blouse and pulled it up over her head, exposing breasts that bulged from her C cup bra. "Removing my clothes can also help with the cleanup. The less I have to deal with blood spatter on clothing, the better."

Casting the blouse and lab coat onto a nearby chair, Simone undid her bra. As the undergarment came free, two large, firm breasts fell out and bounced slightly. Tight, erect nipples adorned each breast, which contrasted beautifully with the flat stomach below. Ryan stared, entranced by the perfect beauty before him, forgetting the pain in his groin for a moment.

Simone put thumbs under her skirt and pushed it down over her hips, exposing tight fitting panties that bordered on a thong. The skirt was thrown on top of the rest of her clothing. She leaned over Ryan's face, smiling and bright, placing her breasts just within reach. Ryan whimpered beneath the gag, and raised his head, just barely brushing one of her nipples before she moved away.

"No chance of that, my boy. This is just a little extra torment. A little something to remind you of just how much you are losing tonight. Now... oh my!" Simone exclaimed as she moved back to Ryan's groin. "You have a very nice erection! Hmm. Too bad you won't be able to use it. You know, if you had just asked me out instead of trying to take me by force... well, I guess we never will know."

The nearly naked woman reached over to the side table and picked up a small probe with a very sharp point. She moved over to Ryan's groin and picked up one testicle again. "I know a little about anatomy, you see. But you know that, don't you. You see here, and here, there are the tubes and nerves that connect your little gonads to the rest of your body, including your brain. Now, we could poke and prod your balls to see you squirm, but really, all the nerves converge right here."

Simone indicated a spot just at the top of one testicle where the tissue narrowed and then extended upward. "One good poke here and we get all the pain nerves firing, as if your testicles were crushed. And yet we don't actually crush them, you see?"

With this, Simone pressed the sharp probe into the nerve bundle. Instantly, Ryan's entire groin exploded in pain. He screamed, breathing in and out rapidly to allow for more screaming, loud as he could against the gag. He screamed and screamed, and as he screamed Simone continued to move and poke the probe deep inside the nerve bundle.

The screams continued with the pain as she moved to the other testicle, and used a second probe to pierce and penetrate the nerve bundle there. Ryan had no idea that such pain was possible, and he arched his back, strained with all his might against the restraints, struggled, writhed, screamed and sobbed as the pain spread and throbbed throughout his entire lower body.

This went on for an eternity. The pain kept going, on and on. When one testicle lost Simone's interest, she would move back to the other one, pressing into the nerve bundle, recreating the agony, watching Ryan's lean body struggle, muscles bulging as he strained, sweat pouring out as the pain continued.

Finally she stopped, removing the probes and setting them aside. Ryan continued to writhe, crying into his gag, his face wet with tears.

"Interesting how the pain continues? I am not touching you any more, and yet you are still screaming. Once nerves like that get firing, they feed off themselves, continuing to fire even without any direct stimulation. No worries, they will stop soon, though the memory of the pain is likely to keep your brain pain centers firing for a bit." Simone took hold of Ryan's limp penis and stroked it idly, letting her perfect breasts drag across his stomach. In spite of the lingering pain, the penis responded, hardening quickly.

Several minutes passed as Simone stroked Ryan's cock, letting it harden and then pulse. The pain slowly subsided to a dull ache that showed no indication of going away, but the penile stimulation had him going. His breathing continued hard, this time with the building orgasm. He balls still ached and his scrotum hurt from being sliced open, but the pleasure was undeniable. He began thrusting his hips, looking at Simone's perfect body and with a muffled groan achieved climax.

Semen spurt from his cock onto his bare stomach.

"I've always wanted to see that; the vas deferens carrying the sperm upward during male orgasm. Fascinating. I wish I could use you in the lab next week, but I don't think it will work out. No matter," here Simone rolled over to another table, picked up a very small device and returned to Ryan's side, "I have something very special for you. It will quite literally change your life!"

Simone began working with Ryan's testicles again, performing a short procedure. A tiny plastic coated elongated box was placed between his balls. Two tiny wires extended from it, ending in small plastic clamps with pointed electrical contacts.  Carefully, Simone slid one of the clamps over the tubing extending from one testicle, folded the two sides of it down until the pointed metal contacts pierced through the tissue, and then snapped it shut.  The process made Ryan jerk and scream once again, the pain quickly regaining strength.

Once Simone determined the clamp was firmly in place holding the fleshy tube, she performed the same procedure to the other testicle. Ryan, screamed again when the second clamp penetrated his flesh, tiny electrical probes embedding themselves in his nerves and snapping securely into place.

When the process was complete, Simone sighed in a happy smile, and stroked poor Ryan's frightened and agonized face. She wiped the sweat of pain from his cheeks and forehead, and kissed him gently, tenderly before returning to his scrotum.

As she worked, Simone explained what she was doing. Ryan watched in the mirror as she spoke.

"As you can see, I have implanted a small device. The big center device is a receiver with a small battery. The battery will last about 10 years, I believe. It's sealed inside a rubber sheath to prevent it from shorting out. It's also sterile. The two wires are now clamped to the nerves that lead to your balls. We are now sewing you back up so you can heal. The device will remain in place."

Ryan began sobbing again, straining against the straps to no avail. He watched as Simone slowly sewed his scrotum flesh back in place with the electronic receiving device inside. Horrible ideas began to run through his rattled and tortured brain.

"Yes, you might have guessed what that is, but let me explain. The receiver is set for a transmitter that I control. As long as the receiver gets the signal from the transmitter, everything is fine."

Needle and thread drew Ryan's flesh back into place tightly over his testicles and the small device inside.

"When the receiver stops detecting the transmitter signal... well, it releases a tiny current to the two contacts. Very simple. Like a light switch. The current is small, but enough to cause the same kind of pain you were experiencing just a little while ago. It doesn't take much to directly trigger the reaction, you know?"

The final stitches were put into place, and Simone tied a small knot in the surgical thread.

"The transmitter will be in my house. It has a transmitting radius of about 30 feet. Leave that area and.... well, I guess you can remember what it feels like. You might have enough presence of mind and control to crawl back into range in spite of the agony. Might be better not to try it though."

Simone finished up by wiping alcohol over the sutures, then applying a sterile bandage to the outside of Ryan's scrotum.

"I also have a nice little remote control here." She raised something that looked like a simple car remote. "It disrupts the transmitter signal. Let's try it?"

Ryan's eyes grew big and as he looked at Simone's beautiful smile. She pressed the button and Ryan's entire lower body jerked with the sudden convulsing agony. His testicles were on fire, and crushed, and stretched, and dissolving to goo. Then Simone released the button and the pain disappeared. Suddenly.

"So you see, Ryan? This means you are now mine. Leave me, you will be hit by pain bad enough you won't be able to walk. Disobey me, and you will wish you had never been born."

Simone began undoing the straps, releasing Ryan from the dissection table. The pain still echoed through him as he sat up gingerly. She undid his gag, removing the tape and cloth, and then kissed him full on the lips.

"Let's get you dressed and I will help you to the car. We should head home so you can see where you will be living as my slave. This will be a fun adventure, don't you think?"

Simone smiled lovingly at her new bitch slave as he slowly got down from the table and started putting his clothes back on, resigned to obeying his new mistress. At least for the moment.

Monday, October 14, 2013

Human Experimentation: Alpha

Richland Prison was designated as the stop of last resort for incorrigible and recalcitrant prisoners. Their crimes weren't necessarily the worst, but the criminals themselves showed the least promise for rehabilitation. The state chose to place these lost causes here, allowing radical experimentation that wasn't spoken of outside the unmarked secure concrete walls in upstate Idaho.

The heavy bullet proof glass door slid shut quietly behind the tall brunette woman after she stepped into the bare white hall. There was an almost indiscernible hiss and thunk as the door latched in place, locking her inside the medical residence wing of Richland Prison. There was a clean smell of disinfectants and deodorizer, with a slight minty tinge. Under the smell was the slightest hint of something musky like urine, but could have been ammonia cleanser.

She was met inside by a shorter blond woman wearing a white lab coat over her functional top and jeans. Both women were in their early 30s and pretty, walking and talking with confidence.

"Dr. Sykes, I am so glad you decided to join our staff. I hear you wanted to see some of our latest medical trials," the blond woman shook the tall brunette's hand and then gave her a lab coat.

"Thank you Dr. Wilson. And please, call me Jenn. I am particularly eager to see prisoner Alpha, as I believe you call him."

"That would be nice, Jenn. Call me Emily. And yes, Alpha is just down the hall here, and is one of our more fascinating... well, I am not sure I would call it a success, but in some ways it certainly is." Emily Wilson walked down the corridor, past plain metal doors that were locked with simple deadbolts that required a key from either side.

Emily stopped in front of a door with the number "27" on it. From a hook on the side of the door she took a small remote control device. "Please be cautious. Alpha has never been violent, but there is always a first time. He is a lifer, after all."

She unlocked the door and the two women stepped in.

The room was small and equipped with a bed, a small table, a chair and a shelf on which several personal items were placed. A stainless steel toilet peeked out from a privacy curtain in the corner. Sitting in the chair reading a novel was a young man in his early 20s; muscular, good looking, thoughtful, slightly sad eyes. His hair was a short blond, not quite hiding a scar that ran across the side and back of his head. He wore simple but comfortable prison clothes made of denim. He stood when the women entered.

"Dr. Wilson. I hope all is well. I have met my quotas for the week and am behaving. Have there been any complaints or reports?"  The man known as Alpha had a fearful look in his eyes, and stood with an air of respect and deference to the doctor even though he stood a good foot taller, and he looked down at the floor furtively.

"That's quite all right, Alpha. This is Dr.Sykes. She is joining the staff here and asked to see you." Emily waved at the new doctor as she spoke.

Alpha's breathing rate had increased and become almost a pant in the short space of time the two women stood in his small cell. He said nothing, but Jenn noticed a tiny shake in his hands. He was obviously terrified of something.

Emily spoke again. "I am afraid we need to demonstrate the progress we have made with you. And... the lack of progress. Dr. Sykes will be working with patients here and this is part of her introduction."

Alpha raised his face to look directly at Emily, and pleaded in a tired manner, "Please don't. You know I have been good. There is no cause for you to punish me."

Emily turned to Jenn and showed the remote control device. "As you know, we have been experimenting with the placement of neurostimulus devices in the brains of recalcitrants. Alpha has a small chip embedded in his brain which will stimulate certain specific areas. Unfortunately, the accuracy and predictability of this technique isn't yet what we hope for, but we are getting closer. In Alpha's case, the chip placement was supposed to stimulate pleasure and guilt centers, but the results aren't quite what was expected. Let me illustrate."

Emily pressed a black button on the remote.  Jenn watched as Alpha shuddered, closed his eyes, and suddenly sat down in his chair. He lowered his head into his hands and began crying. Emily kept pressing the button and spoke as Alpha's tears flowed.

"You can see the effect. The chip is causing depression and despair. We missed the mark completely, though this has certainly had an impact on his behavior. He is much more compliant now."

Alpha had begun to sob uncontrollably, his body shaking and wracked with the convulsive bawling that had taken him. The man had suddenly melted into a puddle of misery and despair. The change was immediate and impressive.

"Wow. This must be a terrible experience for him. Does it have a lasting effect?" Jenn observed as Alpha slipped off his chair onto the floor to his knees, where he lowered his head so that the forehead rested on the ground at Emily's feet.

"Not really. It takes only a few seconds after the chip has stopped stimulation before the direct impact has subsided. The neurotransmitters released are very quickly reabsorbed. But there is a sort of echo, or memory effect. The immediate feelings of despair might disappear, but the memory of them last and can be a little difficult to shake off."

As Emily spoke, Alpha had crawled to Emily's feet and had grabbed her lab coat, begging something through his sobs. Jenn didn't quite understand what he was asking for, but it sounded like death, mercy, failure, please, please, please...

Emily released the black button. Alpha's sobs and pleas subsided quickly. He rolled back and sat on his heels, wiping snot, saliva and tears from his face as he stopped crying and regained his composure.

"And now for the stimulation which was to be the pleasure center." Emily pushed the white button just as Alpha raised his head sharply and cried out "NO!!..."

Alpha's protest turned into a grunt and his hands encircled his stomach. He bent over and started to moan in pain. His body shook as the two women looked at him writhing on the floor as he alternately grunted, cried and begged. "Please, please... don't do this, it hurts... the cramping... there is no need... I'll be good..."

"Yes, strangely enough, the chip is invoking peristalsis. Alpha is experiencing rather nasty stomach cramps right now." Emily looked almost smug, happy as she watched the poor man writhe on the floor. Jenn looked on as well, fascinated by the powerful impact the tiny chip was having on this man.

Thoughts took form inside Jenn's mind, thoughts that she had suppressed for years, only visiting in her darkest times of intimate privacy. She looked at the man on the floor with pleasure, enjoying his pain and humiliation. She thought of him as her slave, a pet she could do anything with. She felt the arousal of dominance surge through her body like an orgasm as Alpha rolled from his left to his right side, moaning and curling into a ball.

Without warning, there was a loud sound of gas being expelled from Alpha. The flapping, farting sound continued for a few seconds, and then took on a muffled wet quality. Accompanying this change was a smell that rapidly grew and became heavy in the air.

"Whew!!! Yes, if it is kept up long enough it turns into diarrhea. That's one reason I don't do this very often," Emily Wilson waved her hand in front of her nose, and released the button.  It took almost a minute for the peristalsis to fade away, after which the man lay on the ground panting, recovering from the agony of a massive bout of suddenly invoked cramping and diarrhea. The wet shit he had expelled began to soak through his pants and the noxious smell increased.

Emily turned and unlocked the door from the inside, leading Jenn out into the hall. "Let's give him some privacy to clean up and I will show you around the lab."

Jenn caught one last glimpse of the completely decimated and subservient man slowly picking himself up off the floor, and once again felt the thrill of excitement. She was going to like this job. A lot.

Sunday, September 1, 2013

Do You Love Me?

“Do you love me?” I whispered in her ear, letting my breath carry the words gently and warm her neck.

“Yes…” She was not struggling against the straps that held her to the chair. Her eyes closed and her head tilted slightly, as if to give my question more access to the bare flesh of her neck.

My own long hair slid across her skin, where goose bumps appeared and then faded. As I slowly moved around behind her I let my breasts brush against her upper arm, first my left… then my right. I wore no bra and I sensed her warmth and imagined that my nipples grew hard just at that moment.

Positioning myself behind her, I lowered my face so that it was next to hers. We both looked forward into a mirror that sat in front of the chair, she looking into my eyes, as I looked into hers. Her legs were strapped to the chair legs, slightly apart. The light skirt she wore revealed smooth thighs (though no more).

Casually, my left hand slid across her shoulder until it cupped her throat, feeling the bare flesh there and squeezing slightly to feel the blood pump through arteries to feed her brain. She did not flinch. After a moment my hand slid down from her neck to her chest, and then under her top as I felt cleavage give way to the softness of breasts. Down my fingertips felt, crawling under the cloth and finding the perfect underside of the sphere until my hand cupped and lifted her right breast. My index finger slid up and played with her nipple, which was hard, waiting for me.

She gasped slightly at the stimulation, and shifted position in the chair, her body feeling the impulse to respond. She couldn’t, which was the way we both wanted it. My right hand slid fingers into her hair, entwining and grabbing and pulling her head back until she looked directly into my eyes as I looked down. I kissed her then, a deep tongue kiss, forced upon her restrained form, and yet willingly accepted. Her tongue flittered and pulled mine in as her breathing quickened. Her kisses were always the best.

I broke the kiss, and withdrew my hand. Her top was partway open from my explorations, her breasts partially visible. Restrained as she was in the chair, ankles, knees, wrists and elbows, she had never looked sexier. My own arousal almost took me made me release her and start ripping clothes off, but I held my concentration.

From behind her, I brought out the thin latex sheet I had waiting. I slowly positioned it over her face, and then pulled it back all the way until it clung tightly, conforming to the shape of her nose, eyes, mouth. Her breathing suddenly became labored. In fact, her attempts to breathe were no longer successful. She stayed remarkably still at first, simply tolerating the rubber that covered her face. But the desire for air overcame her, and her chest struggled, heaving in her attempts to suck in some oxygen.

I released the rubber sheet, and she took a huge, deep breath. Panting for just a moment, she looked at me in the mirror with frightened eyes. Looking back at her in the mirror, I kissed her cheek, caressed her hair, and smiled approvingly. The latex sheet descended over her face once again. This time she saw it coming and took a deep breath before I pulled it tight and cut off her air.

It was only 45 seconds or so, but it was enough. She began to struggle, chest heaving and arms wriggling in the restraints. The latex sheet sucked into her open mouth as she tried to breathe. I released the sheet and she sucked in air, panting, gasping for longer this time. She didn’t look at me for a while, and when she finally did her eyes showed the same fear, and as well as something else…

“Do you love me?” I once again breathed in her ear.

“Yes!” She almost spit out, as if unwilling to give up the air for that simple word.

“Will you do anything for me?”

She looked at the ceiling, took a deep breath, and then lowered her face so she stared at me directly in the mirror.


It was time. She knew what she was in for, understand the reality. She had committed herself.

From behind her chair I produced a single large clear plastic bag and a velcro strap. I slid the bag over her head. She stared out through the distortion of the clear plastic, still looking at me. The fear was still in her eyes. And yes… that something else. The love. The dedication. The commitment to do all, endure all, for me.

Could I take advantage of that? Yes, yes I could.

“When I place the strap around your neck, it will cut off your air. All you will have to breath is in this bag and in your lungs. The air will last about two minutes. The velcro strap can easily be removed. Just pull on it, here.” I illustrated how it could be undone with a quick, simple pull.

“Once I place the strap around your neck, I will undo your right arm restraints. You may remove the strap and bag at any time. You may breath at any time.” She looked at me with a rising question of fear. She had not expected this– this was a test. A test beyond what she was prepared for. She saw it coming.

“All I ask is that you not remove the bag.  That’s all. Give yourself to me, completely to me. Breathe in what air you have. I will be here with you. When consciousness slips away, know that you are still with me, and that it is forever.”

Tears came to her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. “I don’t know… if I can.”

“That’s up to you dear.”

I slipped the strap around her neck, pulled it tight and let the velcro hold it in place. She breathed in suddenly, the bag contracted over her face as all the extra air was sucked into her lungs.

As she continued to breathe, the bag expanding and contracting with each breath, I moved from behind her to the front, kneeling before her and undoing the restraints of her right arm. Her hand reached up and gripped my shoulder. I rose and slid over her, until I knelt between her legs, my face close to hers. She looked into my eyes with pain and fear, but I could see that it was fear that she would not make it, that she would give in.

Her sucking breath came faster now. She shook her head from side to side. Her free right hand alternately gripped the chair and my arm. Her skin under the bag was wet, sweaty from exertion and from the humidity of the trapped air inside.

The heaving of her chest was so alluring, arousing, I unbuttoned her blouse all the way, spreading it wide to expose her beautiful breasts. Placing my hands on her bare chest and stomach I felt the strain, the desperation in her body as she gasped for oxygen.

“Please… please…” She gasped. What is was she begged for I did not know, and I suspect she didn’t either. I slid my hands up her body to either side, under, and then to the sides of her breasts and on to feel the ribs under her arms. At the same time I moved up and kissed her through the bag. Her gasping was panicked now, and her right arm clutched my neck, pressing my head against hers as she tried to kiss me with an all consuming kiss that would distract the pain her body felt.

I separated and watched her eyes closely. The fear was gone, the gasping was slowing. She was beginning to go.

Her free hand, which had held my arm tightly, was no longer tight. It was going limp, as her head began to wobble slightly. And then, all at once… her head fell backwards and her body relaxed completely.

I waited a moment, caressing her face, and then undid the strap. The bag slid off and cold, fresh air flooded her face, reviving her semi-conscious form. I slapped her once, twice. Her breathing strengthened and then took hold in slow, deep, starved gasps. Sitting with her head back, looking at the ceiling, she gasped and breathed and finally cried… tears running down her face.

I undid the rest of her restraints, and when they were all undone she fell forward, arms around me. “I have failed you!” she sobbed.

“No, dearest. You succeeded. I simply brought you back.”

We sat together, enjoying the feeling of each other’s bodies against one another as she slowly recovered from the most intense experience of her life.

Monday, June 17, 2013

Seminal Execution

Rob hung from the X framed cross in the bare concrete room, awaiting execution on sex molestation charges.

The all woman jury had convicted him in less than a day; the woman judge had sentenced him the next.  That was just last week.  Justice was swift now that women had gained control of most institutions of power.

Rob's genitals had been locked in a tiny cage since he had been arrested six weeks earlier. Prior to this he had been used to masturbating at least once a day, depending on the circumstances. He couldn't help himself. Any beautiful woman would set his mind spinning and before he knew it he would be off someplace, thinking of her undressed, her legs wrapped around him, his arms drawing her close, his cock entering her soft flesh. Now see where it had gotten him, he thought ruefully.

The head prison guard, a woman of about 40 with a tight uniform that showed off a perfect body, large breasts and smooth brown hair tied back in a regulation pony tail, oozed sensuality as she finished the preparations for his execution. She checked the straps that held him tightly to the wooden frame and the conductive lube on the electrodes on his head and ankles, making sure all was in order.

To the side, the prison warden recited the final sentence.

"Robert Lukanis, as the Women's 8th Circuit Court has handed down, it is time for your execution. Your death shall be swift, triggered by your own semen, symbolic of your disdain for women and failure as a man. May the goddess have mercy on your soul."

The head guard produced the special tool that would unlock the genital prison that surrounded Rob's penis and testicles. A few twists and the tight ring around the base of his genitals popped open. The woman slid the cage off his penis, which began swelling immediately. Rob was more turned on than he had ever been, and having been unable to relieve himself for six weeks made his testicles feel like they were about to explode from the pressure of built up sperm.

He looked down at the head guard, standing just before him. She was beautiful. Her stern, disapproving face made him shudder with fear, but his mind had envisioned her naked and writhing underneath him, sweating and heaving to an orgasm from his hard pounding into her pussy. Hanging from the wooden frame cross, arms and legs spread wide, he could do nothing, though his cock stood out and bounced slightly, throbbing from his inner desire.

When the head guard took his cock in hand and slid a small tube a couple of inches inside its hole, Rob almost lost control. The touch of the woman's hands invoked an automatic hip thrusting motion. Rob flushed in humiliation that he had so little control, but feeling this woman holding him, her thumb under the head of his cock, massaging slightly as the tube slid inside, released his uncontrollable desire to orgasm. He wanted nothing more at that moment except to release his seed.

Except that would kill him. It had been explained to him the night before. He was to be electrocuted, but the circuit that conducted the electricity through his body would not close by itself. His own semen would be used to conduct the electricity, complete the circuit, and kill him.  If he didn't orgasm, then he would live. At least for a while. If he had an orgasm and ejaculated, the semen would be carried down the short tube and fill the space between two contacts, allowing the powerful voltage to proceed to his body and end his life.

Once the tube was in place, the warden nodded to the head guard and said, "begin the process."

The head guard looked up at Rob and slowly began to undo her uniform blouse. Rob's eyes grew large as her perfect breasts slowly revealed themselves, one button at a time. His cock was rock hard, and he could feel the sperm in his balls gathering, beginning to move, in spite of the consequences.

The guard's blouse dropped to the floor and she reached behind her back, undoing her bra. With one fluid motion her bra released her breasts and fell to the floor. Rob moaned with mixed fear and delight. The woman was fit and perfect with a hard flat stomach that accentuated her rounded breasts.

The female guard, now topless, produced a small tube of lube which she began spreading slowly over Rob's rock hard cock. She slid her hand up and back on his shaft, slowly stimulating him. Rob felt the sperm gathering and pushing through from his testicles and up into his body. He was going to ejaculate, there was no way he could stop it, in spite of the searing pain and death it would bring.

Slowly, the hand job continued, and then his cock met the guard's breasts as she rubbed the soft flesh over his hardened cock. Pressing her breasts together she slid his member between her globes. Rob closed his eyes and felt the orgasm coming. Sperm was inside him, semen was mixing and building pressure. He was ready.

He tried to stop it, he thought of other men, he thought of his mother, he tried to think of dying and shit and anything that might distract him. But the steady, unrelenting stroking from the beautiful, dominant woman before him was irresistible. She urged him on. He tried to hold back. She stroked him persistently, confident. He clenched and writhed on the cross that held him.

Finally, it happened. There was no choice really; his body simply did what it was designed to to. With sudden, powerful waves of warm pleasure the semen ejaculated, his cock pulsing as the white viscous liquid squirted into the tube.

Instantly, the guard removed her hand, at least partly ruining the orgasm. The pleasure fled but the semen kept coming. There was so much, so much that had built up inside of him. It didn't stop, his muscles kept contracting and more kept squirting out.

In his mind he knew that at any moment, perhaps just a second or two away, he would feel the surge of massive voltage which would set his entire body on fire, convulsing every muscle and destroying his brain. As the orgasm faded, he waited, anticipating the death jolt. Hanging, the warmth of afterglow filling him with both pleasure and dread.

He waited longer. Nothing happened. His semen was still tricking down inside the tube, reaching the contacts. Any moment now. He sobbed, crying out loud; he was afraid of biting his tongue, a silly fear, but he kept his jaw shut anyway. His orgasm was past, he felt no more pleasure except for a distant fading glow, and yet he still hung there, waiting.  It was agony, waiting as his semen trickled down slowly through the tube toward the contacts.

"What's the hold up?" The warden's voice entered his consciousness.

"His semen is a little thick. It's moving slower than some others. It will happen, don't worry." The guard was putting her bra back on, her part of the execution completed. Rob shook uncontrollably on the cross, sobbing, tears running down his cheeks, waiting for the death his own body fluid would bring.

Several minutes passed.

"This is dumb. I want to see him fry. I want to see him jerk around and lose bowel control like the last bastard. Can't you just flip the switch?" The warden was getting impatient.

"Not according to the judges order's and the regulations. He has to set it off with his semen. It's the way it's done."

"Let me at him. I will get more semen out of him. That will do it."  The guard stepped aside as the warden, a pretty woman in her 30s, stood in front of the hanging prisoner.

She took his lubed cock and began stroking. It was still hard. Inside, Rob knew he had much, much more semen to give. He had been masturbating so much, and for so long he had trained himself to orgasm several times a day, sometimes all during one session. The warden stroked him, urging him to give her the semen she wanted, and he felt his body obeying her.

The warden licked his cock, sliding her tongue around the tip of his penis, down to the underside and along the bottom to it's base. Wrapping lips around the hard shaft, she slid back up until her tongue played with the head once again. Rob cried out, "No, please... please don't do this to me... help me, please, oh God, I am going to come again!"

The warden was good. She had cupped his balls, manipulating them as she slid over his sensitive cock, urging his orgasm on. She knew just how to bring on a male climax.

The orgasm came, a second time, barely ten minutes after the first one. Semen came shooting out of Rob's penis, spurting into the tube, forcing more of the white slime down and closer to the electric contacts.

"He's ejaculating. Back off. You don't want to be touching him when he gets the full voltage," the guard warned urgently.  Nevertheless, the warden continued stimulating Rob, demanding every bit of his slime.

Rob convulsed on the wooden beams, thrusting his hips forward, lost in an orgasm that went on and on. The warden, finally satisfied, backed off. Rob continued voluntarily contracting his muscles, trying to get the last of the semen out and into the tube.

The white body fluid slowly slid down the tube and entered a tiny chamber with two contacts. The women watched and waited. Rob's naked body sagged on the cross, slumped down and exhausted from two consecutive orgasms.

Suddenly, every muscle in Rob's body tensed as if it were straining, taught rope. A gurgle came from his mouth as his back arched, hips thrust forward. A slight smell of burning flesh filled the room and a very faint crackling noise could be heard. Rob's cock amazingly hardened and grew even larger than before as his entire body convulsed with the surge of electricity that coursed through him. While his hips shook violently, his cock engorged with blood and bounced in an exaggerated orgasm, ejaculating even more white fluid into the tube, filling it to overflowing.

The voltage continued for more than two minutes, until the head guard disengaged the mechanism. The smell of cooked flesh hung heavy in the air. Rob's body sagged and hung unmoving on the wood frame.

"Wow. That was cool. I've never seen one do that before." The warden was examining the still rock hard cock and massive amount of white semen that had filled the tube and leaked down the sides.

"Neither have I. Glad we have it on video," said the head guard, motioning to the mounted cameras in the room.

Tuesday, February 5, 2013

Punishment That Fits The Crime

He didn’t mind being held for a little while, in this bland gray cell with its bed and toilet, but he had been there for two weeks following the trial. The only contact was with the female guards, who fed him, brought him an occasional book to read, and took him for a shower once a week. They teased him then, stripping him and playing with his body. He didn’t like that, the bitches were like the others, thinking they were better than he.

For millennium women had a place, their natural place in nature, he felt. But in the early 21st century, the females had slowly gained more and more power until they now ran the country; all important or high paying jobs were filled with women, all lawmakers and police were women, and men were relegated to physical labor and serving women in the home. Technically, they had equal rights. But of course… some rights are more equal than others.

So he had begun to take down a few of these girls, putting them in their place. He found them in a dark alley, or behind a store, or where ever a pretty girl seemed to be alone. He was good looking, and well built. He played the submissive role well, drawing them in, until the right time.

Then he raped them.  Forced them down, pushed and shoved and erupted inside of them, leaving his seed inside their bodies, violating them.  For that small moment, justice was served and they had been put in their natural place.

Until he was caught. A silly girl, a young one, had been able to scream for help, and the police had caught him before he was finished.  What an abomination, hauled away in wrist and ankle cuffs by two girls younger than he was.

The trial was quick. Perfunctory. Rapid and with little fuss. He was convicted and sentenced in a matter of 20 minutes. His lawyer (a woman) had not even explained his punishment to him. He still wondered how long he would be locked up in this gray, empty hole.

This time when the guards came, it was a little different. For one thing, there were three of them. The additional one was a tall silky haired brunette, 6 feet tall if she was an inch. Shapely, with good boobs and a nice ass and a really cute face that made her look younger than she probably was. Under the guard’s coveralls he imagined a muscular body, thin and well toned. The kind he liked, the kind that gave him special pleasure by defiling with his body fluids.

“Get up, remove your clothes,” the lead guard barked at him. What was this? She was perhaps the cutest guard he had ever confronted, but she also had that mean glint in her eye. Her delicate hand rested on a nightstick, long fingers curled around its handle, at the ready.

“Why? It isn’t time – uugghh” he grunted when the nightstick slid out from her belt and plowed into his stomach. He bent over, clutching his stomach as the nausea rolled over him.

“Remove your clothes or we will cut them off,” the brunette said quietly.

As soon as he got control, he complied. Unzipping the front of his orange unisex prisoner jumper, he climbed out of it, removing his jailhouse slippers as he did. The lead guard smirked a little as he reached down to pull his underwear over his legs, exposing his male genitals.

It was OK, he thought. They could gawk and wish they had him. He knew he was big, his cock larger than most, hanging well over his balls, swinging heavily as he stood. The brunette moved her nightstick slowly over to his naked body and let the end of it slide up the inside of his thigh until it came in contact with his balls, lifting them slightly. He shuddered with a sudden feeling of vulnerability.  She then pushed his cock to the left, and then the right, as if appraising him.

He started to become erect. The bitch guard was so fucking sweet, he started dreaming what it would be like to slide her out of her outfit and start exploring what was underneath…  until with a soft but painful rap on his balls, she said “OK, let’s go. It’s time.”

Time for what? He thought as they exited his cell and strode down the corridor. Two of the guards walked on either side of him, holding his upper arms to guide him. He knew better than to struggle or run, they were inside several layers of electronically controlled doors which would be impossible to get past. He walked along, feeling the brunette’s presence behind him, his cock still somewhat erect just thinking of her.

They stopped in front of a solid door with no window, but with a heavy lock. With a buzz and a loud clack it opened, and he was taken inside.  A perfectly square, gray room presented itself, barren except for a few basic items.  A small table stood in the middle of the room, containing a couple of items he didn’t recognize. To the side was a flat stretcher, not unlike the backboards paramedics used to immobilize back injury patients (lots of straps on the thing). This stretcher seemed to be bolted to the wall in an upright or standing position. The other wall held a large mirror of the type that made it obvious there were people on the other side, watching him.

“Hey. What’s going on? Does my lawyer – ” his protests didn’t get far, the brunette bitch swung her nightstick hard against the back of his knees, causing him to drop and moan in pain.

“Anthony Pelligro, having been convicted and sentenced by the high court of justice in the southwest district, I hereby carry out said assigned punishment.  Restrain him,” this last she spoke to the other guards, who lifted him up and began strapping him to the hard wooden stretcher. Leather wrapped around his upper arms, wrists and elbows, across his chest, over his hips and each of his thighs, then ankles… and finally his neck. The straps seemed endless, and when they were finished, he was standing upright but unable to move.

“Do you wish a gag or blindfold?”

“No! What are you doing to me? What is this? What is this punishment?” He was angry now, secured as he was, unable to move, his naked body observed by the women guards as well as whomever was on the other side of the mirror in front of him. He could see himself in the mirror, his strong body and large manhood clearly visible. It didn’t give him as much comfort or pride as it once did, strapped on display like this.

The three guards stood back and observed him writhe in his bonds for a moment, and then left the room. He was alone, though he knew someone was watching him through the one-way mirror. He waited, occasionally shifting slightly, trying to get more comfortable. The room grew quiet, silent except for the sound of his steady breathing.

With a loud clack, the door unlocked and opened, and someone entered. Another girl entered, this one a medium sized pretty girl with sandy blond hair, freckles and cute blue eyes. She was not dressed as a guard, but wore a short skirt that exposed long, muscular, smooth legs, and a loose top that buttoned up the front.  The top was unbuttoned, revealing cleavage from smallish but well formed breasts. The overall effect was that of a very cute college student.

The blond smiled at him and approached, stopping by the table. She must not be more than 20 years old, he thought as he scowled at her, hating that he was naked and vulnerable to the whims of the young girl. She was fiddling with something at the table.

“Let’s get started, shall we?” she said in a soft, pleasant voice. For the first time, he felt a chill of fear run through his body as she stepped over to him.

She stood on her toes for a moment, and kissed him lightly on the cheek. He smelled a tiny whiff of perfume and her soft hair brushed his naked shoulder. He found himself thinking about what it would be like to take this girl, be inside her, on top of her, feeling her struggle and gasp below him as he plunged into her and ejaculated his sperm deep into her womb.

He felt her take hold of his cock, which had begun to grow erect at the closeness of her body. One of her hands unbuttoned her top, opening to reveal her naked breasts. The other pulled his cock, encouraging it to grow in her soft hands.

The whole experience was eerie, surreal. He was bound and motionless, being observed by unknown persons through a one way mirror while a beautiful young girl stroked him to an erection, stimulating him expertly. It became even more weird when he felt lube or oil being applied to his cock, making her stimulation of him even more effective.

She was giving him a hand job.

Was this his punishment? He wanted to resist, he hated the idea of being forced to erection by this woman, of having his sperm forced from his body without his taking her. She was taking him, sucking the juices from him. His moans of pleasure were half moans of frustration, as he resisted her expert stimulation. His body was responding to her against his will. And she was good… really good… he could already feel his sperm moving through the channels between his legs, preparing itself, gathering for climax and ejaculation from his body into her hands.

She rubbed his slippery cock against her breasts, the underside of his cock head sliding over her nipple. He almost came right then, but he was still resisting. She continued the hand job, smiling up at him, encouraging him. When he could stand it no longer, the sperm deep down gathered pressure, his muscles contracted, and he began pushing, thrusting, the climax building… he was imagining the force of his orgasm spewing his fluid over her face and breasts…

With a hard, cruel force, she grasped his balls firmly in one hand, and in a single practiced motion squeezed them hard and pulled them down, away from his body. Pain shot through his balls and into his hips, and he yelped loudly. With her other hand she pressed hard, pushing and compressing the base of his cock, preventing any ejaculation.

Between the pain in his balls and the pressure squeezing his cock, his orgasm was ruined. He cried out in pain and frustration, a long, loud, bellow. “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuccckkk….” he cried out.

The cute blond giggled and released his genitals. She went over to the table, and obtained something else, something long, thin and shiny.  He was writhing against his restraints, angry, aroused, and swearing. But he was aware enough to look carefully at what she brought over to him.

It was a simple thin glass rod, or probe. Smiling, she brought her pretty face to his again, and kissed him on the cheek. Taking his cock in her hand once more she stroked it lovingly, bringing it back to its full engorgement.  He moaned, feeling his arousal return, knowing that he could and would come to climax quickly if she allowed it. His cock was still quite slippery from the lube, and he felt her rub the glass rod over his cock, getting it slippery as it did.

His cock was hard, really hard. Stone hard, straining to reach orgasm as she fingered the glans. At his cock’s maximum distention, she took the glass rod and positioned it against the hole at the end, pressing it slowly in. It slid in easily, and stimulated him in a most unnatural way. Her continued delicate stimulation kept him hard as a rock as the glass slid in, until it was inserted to the full length of his cock.

When it was in all the way, the cute girl smiled once again, and repositioned her fingers. Both hands, index finger and thumb squeezing his cock; next to each other.  With a slight but firm force, her fingers bent his cock slightly, breaking off the exposed end of the glass probe. The external part she removed, the rest remained inside his cock.

It hurt; he yelled. The ragged end of the glass tube, stuck deep inside his cock, had poked and penetrated the flesh of his urethra. His cock began to lose its turgid erection, and the slight contraction pressed the urethra against the glass rod even more, causing more pain.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck what have you done to me bitch!?” he cried out in pain. Rapidly, she swung one hand back and then slapped him with a surprising force that almost knocked him unconscious.

She then took his still-hard cock, positioned her fingers a little lower down, and bent the flesh once more. The glass probe broke again, and he screamed this time from the pain.

Over and over again, she felt for pieces of the glass rod that were still long enough to break inside his cock. She then took it firmly, squeezed hard, bent the flesh and cracked it in two. When she was done, the glass rod stuck in his cock was in shattered pieces, sharp points and glass shards embedding in his urethral walls, causing him to cry, curse and scream in pain.

His erection was long gone. The remains of the glass probe kept his cock somewhat distended, though it was no longer engorged with blood. A few small drops of blood had oozed from the opening at the end. His shrinking cock had caused more pain, as the flesh shifted and moved against the glass shards inside.

The cruel girl smiled when she completed her work, slapped him once more, hard, and then kissed him goodbye. As she left the room, the guards re-entered and immediately unstrapped his sweaty and pain wracked body. He fell to the ground, curled up in a fetal position, trying to protect what was left of his genitals.

He was dragged back to his cell, sobbing all the way. The pain in his cock was terrible, and felt like it was invading his hips and stomach. When thrown onto his cell floor, he once again curled up, trying to protect what was already damaged beyond recovery.

The tall brunette stood in the doorway, looked down at him, and spoke when he was calm enough to listen.

“Your penis, the tool by which you attacked innocent women, has been irretrievably damaged. The glass inside has torn the flesh, which is becoming infected even as we speak. With both the smashed glass and the swelling from infection blocking your urinary tract, you will not be able to urinate.  This will cause increasing pain over the next two days, and a bladder and kidney infection will set in. This can not be reversed.”

She leaned down, her long, silky brown hair brushing his face and the tears that flowed across his face.

“Listen to me carefully. You now have two options.  You can wait to die from very painful secondary infections of your internal organs. This will take about four or five days. During this time your agony will increase until you pray for death to take you.”

With one hand, she reached down and squeezed his cock, bringing a renewed set of screams. When he quieted, she continued.

“Your other option is simple. Cut off your penis. Stop the bleeding, heal, and you will be able urinate, and maybe even live a normal life. You can work, date, live and love… well… maybe not love. But you can still be a good member of society.  One without a penis of course, unable to rape any more women.”

She took a small knife with a blade about one inch long and placed it on the floor next to his head. “Here is the instrument you can use. It is up to you. We will check on you periodically, and when you choose to remove your cock,” here she made a face of disgust, “we will help you heal.”

The door clanged shut behind her. He lay on the floor, curled up and feeling the sharp pains inside. If he didn't move, it didn't feel too bad. It hurt, and there was some minor bleeding, but he could take it. When he moved, the glass shards poked and penetrated deeper into his flesh, and he cried out with the agony.

Two hours later, the pain in his bladder was as bad as the pain in his cock. He had tried to pee, to release the urine that bloated his belly, but it refused to pass. The glass and swollen flesh prevented it. He rocked on the edge of his bed, wondering if he would have the courage to actually cut off his member. He wondered how much pain it would take for him to do it.

Kidney pain is back pain, he knew this. It hit him the next morning. The pain in his cock was no longer terrible. It simply throbbed and ached. However, he had not urinated in about 20 hours, and the pain in his bladder was excruciating. When the agony extended to his lower back, along with waves of nausea, he knew he had to do something.  The knife lay on the floor, untouched, speaking to him. He stared at it, unable to face what he knew he had to do.

Later that day, the guards checked on him. “Well, well,” said the tall brunette that had supervised his punishment. “He figured out the third option.”

She looked down on his still form laying on the floor of his cell, a large pool of blood already congealing around the open wound in his neck. The bloody knife lay on the floor next to his limp hand. His eyes stared lifelessly at nothing.