Now you’re thinking with portals

A Serena and Alice story

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

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

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

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

Now you’re thinking with portals

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

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

“Faster than light” Serena nodded.

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

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

“Male scientists” replied Serena.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The two embraced again, at length. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And?” snapped Serena.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s OK, they’ve finished now.  You’re allowed in to bring them breakfast when summoned.  It’ll make a nice change for Alice, not to have to wait until that lazy bastard Dave finally gets around to thinking of someone other than himself… ** **(Actually this isn’t a picture of them either.  I was asked not to use real pictures of either lady and when I asked why, Serena muttered something about needing to keep her anonymity so she can track down and ‘collect’ readers of this blog, whatever that means.  Anyway, she’s a very private person.)

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

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

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