Femdom story: Code-talkers

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

Code-talkers

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

Her cousin shook her head, laughing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her cousin laughed.

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

“But you let him play
occasionally?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You what, Mags?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

The truth can hurt

…but so can lying.

The belt from a domme wife oh my
Actually, he was wearing two belts.
Femdom general knowledge
Men’s brains aren’t good at remembering dates, but they do have a really good nerve connection to the genitals, so it’s a perfect match.
Castration lit yummy
“Snip-Lit”.  It’s going to be the next big thing after 50 Shades of Grey, you’ll see.
Dental domme delights
She’s not actually a dentist.  She did admit that on his fourth visit, to be fair.
Female dommed relationship
I think this is one of those marriages where the arguments always end up with screaming and tears, don’t you?

Another femdom first for Contemplating the Divine!

You saw it here first!  Corner time POV:

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

Femdom story: Locked

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

Locked

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

Janet nodded dumbly.


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She smiled again.

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

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

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


Her obedient servant

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

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

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

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

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

Another quick one

Oh, hi – is that Mr Harris? 
Good morning, it’s Lisa here from Megabank Card Services.

I’m very well, thank you. 
Now the reason I’m calling, is our fraud detection system flagged some
of your credit card transactions as unusual, so I just wanted to check that
those were really you.   It’s probably
fine, but we just need to check.

 
OK, so can I just run through some recent items?
Right,  now on
Thursday you purchased two books from Amazon? 
“Dealing with sexual failure” was one I think, and “Spanked in front of
the girls”?  OK, fine.

Then the next day, I’ve got a purchase of a web subscription,
3 months non-recurring, to “Diaper boys and strict nannies”? And then a
purchase of premium access to the same site, two hours later?

 

Fine.  And then the next evening there’s a charge for “Samantha
Strict’s chatline”?  No?  Oh – that wasn’t you?  Are you sure?  OK, well we’d better log that.  Only there’s several, you see.  There was “Small penis humiliation”, for £45,
then two hours later I’ve got “Wank on my command”.  So I’d better alert our fraud department, and
start a –

 
 – what’s that?  Oh they
were you?  That’s fine then, because…oh
yes, don’t worry.  It’s strange how quickly we can forget these things, isn’t it?  It’s just as well, because
there was another this morning:  “Piss
boy humiliation”.  Oh – and one’s just
popped up on screen from this afternoon: “Beg to cum”.  That’s probably why your number was engaged when we
called 10 minutes ago – you’d have been just finishing that one off, I expect.
OK, well if that’s all fine, I can clear the suspected fraud
flag.  They can update your profile, you
see, so that similar purchases won’t set off the warnings.  That way I won’t need to keep bothering you
by phoning up – I expect you’ve got better things to do!
And your profile will be updated throughout the bank’s
systems.  That way we can provide you with
better, more personalised financial products and offers, you see.  Whenever you call, or if you drop into the
bank, whoever you’re talking to will have all your details in front of them on
the screen, so they’ll know exactly who they’re dealing with.
Now, is there anything else I can do for you today?

No, not at all.  My
pleasure.  Bye now!

Just a quick one

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

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

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

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

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

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

Source

(Sometimes a photo just writes its own caption.)
 

Self discipline is over-rated

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

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


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


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


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


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

Femdom story: Something for the boys 3/3

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

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

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

Serena and Alice: Something for the boys 3/3



Ready to do some science?


Part 4 – in which we
nearly reach the end

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh.  Cause of my balls,
Miss.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes Miss” the experiment replied, unhappily.

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

“No Miss.”

“Would you like one?”

“No thank you, Miss.”

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

“I’m scared, Mistress.”

“Scared of what?”

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

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

“No Mistress.”

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

“Yes, Mistress.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Ummm, I – “ he began.

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

“Yes, Mistress” he groaned.

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

“Very Mistress”, he admitted wretchedly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes Miss.  Near the
football ground.”

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

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

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

“Oh please, Miss?” he begged.

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

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

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

“Oh Miss” he groaned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Epilogue

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

 

Brutal elegance

Or should that be ‘elegantly brutal’?  Both are good, I think.

Leather clad femdom whip and boots oh yum yum
That’s a relief.  I thought she might be cross.


Southern belle dominatrix
Women always appreciate a compliment.  Quick, try another.  She might even take one of the weights off.


Schoolgirl caning - but the other way around
I don’t know why they have those canes with them, though.  I suppose they don’t realise that corporal punishment has long been abolished in British schools.  Poor things – they must have been so worried!


Femdom wife in control
Well, this is going well.


Wife loves your new secretary or she will
Later, when his new secretary moved in with them, the ladies found a way of making doubly sure.  So that’s all right.