Category: fiction

Fiction: Misappliance of science part 2 (of 2!)

The story so far: a group of schoolgirls are on a guided tour of  FEMDOM (Faculty of Experimental Methodologies for Disciplining and Oppressing Males).  We’ve seen new developments in the design of whips, in storage of the male slave…we’ve even had a little lecture on evolution.  It’s an educational trip, so – Mary – what have we learnt so far? Hmmm?

OK, well according to Mary it’s all been, like, reeeely boring sciency stuff but she thought the new whips were lush.  So there you go.  Sigh.  On with the tour: 

Manimals®
And in fact…let’s just see if Dr Collins is in her lab… Ah, Dr Collins?  Would you mind at all if we…?  Thank you so much, only we were just talking about males adapting naturally to a lifestyle on all fours, and I thought I might show the girls some of your marvelous work in this area.  You see, girls?  Evolution is a very slow process – even with vigorous culling of males every generation to weed out the ones we particularly don’t like, it could take thousands of years to breed back to their proper four-legged form.  So with modern scientific methods, Dr Collins and her team are helping the process along a little.  Isn’t that right Dr Collins?
They started with some simple adaptations: pads on knees, slightly longer arms, and fingers growing together to form a fleshy pad.  But now they’ve really branched out and are experimenting with all sorts of shapes.  Now where is…ah – this is my favourite.  Here – take hold of the whip and give his buttocks a little flick.  Isn’t that clip-clopping sound as he runs around just delightful?  And unlike real horses, they still have feeling in the tips of their hooves, so shoeing them is an absolute scream!





Quiet, non-polluting and cheap to run.  What is not to like?



Ah – I can see you’re wondering what this stubby thing down here is.  This is a product that is actually going on sale quite soon, isn’t that right Dr Collins?  It’s a very simple idea.  I am sure we have all been frustrated when slaves mess up position 6.  Vigorous whipping will usually sort the problem out, but it happens mainly because males are just a bit badly designed to be tables.  Most males’ arms are that much longer than their upper legs, so when they get into position they slope, until taught otherwise.  This one needs no teaching: look you could lay a spirit level on that back and it wouldn’t be tipped at all.  And the elimination of knee and ankle joints makes it less likely to buckle.  Of course, the downside is that it can’t do any of the other positions – or move – so it can’t really be used as much other than a table.  But it would make a fine addition to any living room, I think you’ll agree.
On we go.
i-Poke®
Gather round now girls, while my assistant here whips this male up onto a platform.  Now, can you all see its penis?  Look closely.  Yes, it is there.  Can anyone…yes, that’s right.  This male was born with a penis just three millimeters in length!  Now that’s quite fun in itself, but it’s not the clever bit.  Here, while my assistant secures him tightly to the frame, can one of you take this spiked metal thing from me and – that’s right, you’ve got the idea – just give him a little prod right where that tiny thing is.  Ooops, try again – it is a little hard to hit it at first, as it’s so very small, but – Ah – there!  You got it.  Now, did you all see what happened?  She didn’t spike him hard did she – just a little poke?  But what a lovely scream!  And look at that face, hear that gasping.  It’s as if he’s just had a half-hour whipping, isn’t it?
The trick is in the way the little penis develops.  It’s just a few millimeters long, but it has just as many pain receptors as a normal one.  So, inside that tiny little fold of flesh, there are over a million pain receptors, all funneling into a giant bundle of nerves leading straight up into his brain.  So that when I – excuse me, if I can just…poke it – well, if you can hear me over the shrieking, I think you can see the point!  And you can flick it, and squeeze it and of course You can slap it and you can zap it and everything else You might like – and everything is magnified several thousand-fold.
Complicated sciencey stuff.  You have to study hard to be able to hit the male in exactly the right way.

They need careful bringing up, because of course if you just start inflicting this much pain on a male straight away, he’s liable to die of shock and that’s no good.  But they’ve been gradually increasing the treatment ever since early adolescence on this one, and as you can see, I can just tweak and flick and jab and jab and jab all I like and…well, he’s passed out now.  But he’s still alive, so that’s all right – no harm done.

Great fun as a novelty item, and who knows- one day maybe all males will be like that.  On we go.  Goodness, wasn’t that noisy?




The Dreadmill®
Ah, the psychological section.  We can whip their bodies to a perfection of agony…but to really get under their skins we need to mess with their minds.  Yes, I do know you can flay the skin off, thank you Nancy.  I was speaking metaphorically.  Now I’ve lost my train of thought.  Where – ah yes.  Come this way.
Now – who knows what a phobia is?  That’s right.  It’s very odd, but even in today’s world, in which males have much to be frightened of, the irrational fear from a phobia can be stronger than the entirely sensible fear of an Owner’s displeasure.  The male mind is a strange, and rather broken, little thing.  Come over here and sit on these wooden boxes – I have a story to tell you.  Is everyone sitting down?  I know, it’s a little uncomfortable, we really ought to see about getting some cushions put in this room.  But we’re OK for now, aren’t we?
Well, about fifteen years ago, FEMDOM scientists found that phobias can be induced.  They took some of the work that had been done back in the bad old days when males were running free, and turned it around.  Hypnotherapy and aversion therapy had developed some techniques for allowing people to control their phobias.  With some adaptation, the same techniques could be turned round and phobias could be heightened.  Do you see?  So a male with a mild irrational fear of something could have it ramped up to the point where he becomes a gibbering wreck of fear.  Isn’t that lovely?
Who knows what the word ‘claustrophobia’ means?  That’s right.  Now I want you each to have a very close look at the wooden box you’re sitting on.  You see the air holes?  Bend down and have a listen.  If you can’t hear anything at first, try whispering “Would you like me to let you out”.  Hmmm?  Everyone hear something?  That’s right – whimpering, and frantic whispered begging.  You are each sitting on a highly claustrophic male, a fully-grown adult, all packed up into a ball and squeezed into a little box.  They are in a constant cold sweat of terror – it’s remarkable, unlike repeated exposure through aversion therapy, they don’t seem to adapt to the constant confinement at all.  They’re as terrified now as the day they first saw the open boxes waiting to receive them.  We had some struggles with them then, I can tell you!
The odd thing is that we can only induce ‘traditional’ phobias.  In a separate facility on the ninth floor, there are some males who are terrified of heights, for example.  And just over there, in that glass box – well it’s hard to see inside, but you can hear the screaming and those of you who aren’t the least bit arachnophobic might want to try to peer through the cobwebs.  Rather you than me, I must say – they give me the creeps.  We can induce any existing phobia.  But we can’t just make boys phobic about anything we like.  Not yet, anyway – but that’s what we’re working on now. 
Wouldn’t that be wonderful?  Imagine having a male with a crushing phobia about some ordinary household item – your keys, perhaps, or a spoon, and you could just produce it from your pocket whenever you wanted.  Or a phobia about a word – say ‘bananas!’ and they collapse in terror.  Such fun.  But what we’re really working on is trying to induce a phobia to a specific person.  Wouldn’t that be something?  Imagine owning a male whose greatest fear, above everything in the world, is…you.
We’ll get there eventually.  Isn’t scientific progress wonderful?
There’s so much more in our psychology section too.  I’d love to show you the male maids who’ve been induced with obsessive compulsive disorder so they just have to keep on cleaning!  But we must press on – it’s time to see how FEMDOM is doing good deeds all around the world.  Follow me – but don’t forget to say goodbye to your boxed males first, to make sure they know you’re leaving.  They’re terrified of being abandoned!



Did you know that the Faculty gets through over ten miles of duct tape each year?  Amazing but true.  Useful stuff, duct tape.

Powerstump 4000®
Gather round me, please girls.  Now of course, these days we all need to be concerned about the environment.  Millennia of male rule have resulted in severe damage to this planet of ours.  Things are better than they were, but we shouldn’t just concentrate on retribution for the male race.  Their collective punishment for the destruction is important, and it’s something we can all help with.  It will take centuries at least until they have suffered enough for what was done, so every little helps.  But environmentalism is about more than whipping boys with organically farmed birch twigs: it’s about repairing the damage they’ve done, and safeguarding the future as well.
I expect you’re too young, but I can just remember how bad things had become before the revolution brought sense back to the relationship between the sexes.  Most goods used to go by lorry – imagine!  What’s that?  No, Dorothy, the lorries had internal combustion engines using diesel.  Filthy stuff.  Well, you see those were more primitive times: they didn’t have slave-power in those days.  I know, it’s hard to imagine.  You still see a few lorries actually, although now of course they have modern propulsion units, sometimes all chained together in teams of up to thirty.  But the reopening of the canals was the biggest step forward.  It’s so lovely to watch a full barge moving serenely through the English countryside, with no foul fumes or spluttering motor: just the sound of the water slapping against the side, the flick and crack of the whips, and the gasps of the slaves on the tow-path.
And the clean energy revolution continues!  Slaves are the ultimate renewable power source: break one, it can be broken up and returned to the soil, to grow crops to feed more slaves.  Modern researchers are finding that slave power plants can be used in all sorts of activities where previously they were thought too cumbersome to operate.  This, for example, is our latest miniaturized power plant – just three feet high.  By removing the legs at just the right point, we achieve just the right balance of weight and motive power.  Cut too low down and the slave is just too big to fit into the engine.  Too high up and his little stumps don’t move fast enough to turn the driveshaft.  But if you chop them off in just the right place, you have a compact power unit that you can pack up and use anywhere.
You might yawn, Eliza, but I can tell you – this little device saves lives.  Emergency relief organizations are queuing up to buy them to deploy in disaster areas, or aid agencies to install them in the Third World.  Sometimes, we at FEMDOM like to know that our products are serving a humanitarian purpose.  Every time I see a discarded pair of legs cut to just the right point, I know that someone somewhere has a chance of a better life.  It’s inspiring.
Leadboys®
Then there’s heavy metal pollution to think about too.  No, I’m not talking about those disgraceful bands that play such awful loud music and dismember males live on stage.  No – in the soil and in the plants, there are heavy metal residues from the primitive use of industrial machinery.  Left untended, they can become concentrated further up the food chain as plants draw up their nutrients, eventually harming birds and animals.  We breed slaves with a particular affinity for various metal compounds.  When they eat the soil – like this, you can see here some contaminated soil being forced into this one’s throat (for some reason we can’t overcome the gagging reflex and anyway it’s amusing to watch) – the heavy metal compounds are extracted, and collect in their own bodies, where they can’t damage anyone.  Well, no one who matters.  Eventually they cause the collapse of one more other major organs, we dispose of the dead or dying slave in a furnace, and the resulting contaminated ash is encased in glass and permanently removed from the environment.
Farewell
And so we have reached the end of this little tour.  Thank you – thank you very much.  I enjoyed it too.  I hope you found it fun – but I hope you learned some things too.  Here at FEMDOM, we’re trying to create the future: to make the world a better place, ever more fun and more comfortable for women all over the world, and ever more painful and unpleasant for males.
But really, it’s you that are the future and we never forget that.   The sweet, sadistic young girl looking wide-eyed at some of our toys here today might become the brilliant scientist who invents new ways of inflicting agony for the benefit of all womankind.  There are things we can do to males today that would have been inconceivable just ten years ago.  I’m confident that boys born today can look forward to a future more hellish than any of us can now imagine.  And it’ll be your generation who creates that future.
FEMDOM – We have seen the future.  And it hurts.
That concludes the tour.  If you have a male with you that you would like personalized as a memento of your visit, just bring it to the apparatus over there where the irons are already hot.  Or you could buy one of our customized males, to take home with you.  The gift shop is to your right.  Feel free to try out any of the products, but remember our strict rule: you break him, you buy him.
I hope to see you all again very soon.

Fiction: Misappliance of science – Part 1

Good morning girls! Welcome to the Faculty of Experimental Methodologies for Disciplining and Oppressing Males (FEMDOM). My name is Ms Lisa, and I’ll be accompanying you on your tour today. I’m sure we’ll see many things of interest, and there might even be a few laughs on the way. But do remember at all times that this is a working research facility, carrying out important work in the field of male subjugation. Please try to stay on the path at all times. In some areas of the facility, hard hats and protective coats will be issued to all female visitors and you are strongly advised to wear them.

FEMDOM was founded* just after the Male Citizenship and Private Property Act** came into effect, to conduct fundamental R&D in the exciting new field of female domination. At that time, you know, there weren’t even any university courses in it! So the founders were true pioneers, and a lot of what we now know about hurting males was discovered right here, in those early years. We really like to think that a lot of the things we take for granted today that make boys’ lives miserable wouldn’t be around if it wasn’t for the work done here.

It is important that young girls understand that science can be fun as well as being serious.  That’s why the Instuitute has a hands on area where visitors can experiment for themselves, in a safe and fun environment.

It’s a self-funding facility. None of your mothers’ taxes are used to pay for this research. At the start, we got our income mainly from breeding and selling slaves. With today’s glut in the slave market, we wouldn’t make much that way, but now we have products out there for which there’s a real consumer demand – and we’re patenting more all the time. I expect all your slaves have real-time tracking implants? The basic technology was developed here. And if you’ve ever rubbed Stingercreme® into a boy’s eyes – ah I see some nods there – well, then you’ve used one of our products.

WhipSMart®

This way – the tour begins. Now, as teenage girls I expect you all have the very latest fashion in whips. Oh, don’t try to tell me about it, I know nothing about fashion. A whip is a whip as far as I’m concerned. But I suppose you wouldn’t dream of being seen out without one of those blue transparent plastic ones that…what’s that? Well, yes I suppose I am ‘so last year’. What is ‘in’ then? Good lord, really? Well, all right. You might all be in the height of fashion with your cute little diamante Dior whips …but I’ll bet you have never seen a whip like – this.

No, it’s not much to look at, but would someone like to give it a go? Here you are – there are some males just along there for testing purposes. Try to find a reasonably unwhipped bit of flesh and give it a good crack. There. What do you think of that? Feel free to have a go, all of you, with your cute fashion-whips, I can tell you, you won’t match that welt in a hurry. See? No, Susan, it’s not a particularly sensitive slave – look, you struck him in almost exactly the same place with your own whip, and the mark is puny by comparison.
Now, you can see that there’s nothing very  –

 – if you can all just stop whipping the boys for a moment? Please? Just for a? –

– there really will be plenty of opportunities for –  Thank You.

Now, there’s nothing very different about this whip to look at, in fact next to yours it looks downright dowdy. But if you looked at it under a microscope, you’d see a little saw-tooth pattern all over it. Here – draw your finger over the surface – gently, we don’t want anyone to get hurt! Feels a little like pins and needles, doesn’t it? Well when it’s wielded firmly, those microscopic teeth grab and cut and pull at the male’s flesh, down to a millimetre below the surface and it’s as if every single pain receptor is being individually whipped to perfection.



Protective gloves must be worn when working with the WhipSmart® material, as the slightest touch can sting the skin to create a burning sensation lasting for days.


We call it WhipSMart®. This whip will revolutionise industrial production. We ran some experiments in one of the textile factories around here. Do you know, they managed to get their slaves working 25% harder, while having to deal out only half the number of strokes as before? We tried it in an engineering firm too. They’d been using a blowtorch when they really needed to get their workers to go all-out, and of course eventually that damaged the slaves. Not to mention the fire hazard it caused. After our demonstration, the slaves were begging for the blowtorch to come back!

It will go on sale shortly. I carry one already. Who knows – maybe for the first time in my life, I’ll be ahead of the fashion!

The KeepHim Safe®

Now, over this way we are developing something very interesting. Long-term secure slave storage. Just pop a slave in here and he’ll keep for years without any supervision. If he – what’s that? Well, I know most people don’t want to store slaves. I agree, especially now they’re ten-a-penny. We didn’t always live in such a throw-away culture, though. You wouldn’t understand because you’re too young. But some older ladies, maybe those that married before the revolution, when men were still considered people – some of them are quite attached to their former husbands.

Well, you might all look shocked but you know just 30 years ago that wasn’t so surprising. Doesn’t anyone have a father that your mother keeps around, for sentimental reasons? No? Or maybe a grandfather? Yes – that’s more like it.

Well, like your grandmothers, my mother still keeps my father around: in the attic in an old cage she had him build up there. She’s seventy-three and of course she has younger slaves for looking after the house, and for playing with (oh yes, even old ladies like to get the whip out from time to time!). She doesn’t need him, and sometimes I’ve tried to persuade her to just get rid of the smelly old thing. But she’s attached to him, says it would be like throwing her wedding photographs out. It’s a nuisance making sure he’s fed and watered all the time, and once she nearly lost him by accident when she went on holiday and forgot to make arrangements. So – this is the answer. The KeepHim Safe®.

As you can see, it’s a bit like a sleeping bag, but made of sturdy thick rubber. It’s padded inside and waterproof. I wonder – Ms Chalmers – could you just help me demonstrate on a boy? Yes – that one will be fine. Now, as you can see, girls, Miss Chalmers is attaching the pipes at the bottom first. Those take away the excrement, and that tube fits tightly over his penis for the wee, and also prevents any other little accidents. Then his legs and arms are wrapped up in this soft bubblewrap…then this tube goes into his mouth.

That’s right, Alice, it does go a long way in. It runs right down into his stomach, so the food and water goes straight in, ensuring nothing drips out of his mouth. So then the mouth can be sealed securely around it…so. Breathing tubes in the nose – that’s always a fiddly bit but it’s quite important to get it right. Then pull the bubblewrap round here, so it’s just bulging out a little, then zip it all shut and pop this padlock on…

…like so, and there’s no danger of him moving a muscle. This backpack thing is the little box of tricks where all the pipes go – switch on here, and he’s all set.

Well, obviously there’s not much to see after that.  Ever.

Now this is interesting because er… oh I’m so sorry.  This is just a couple of staff relaxing in the lounge.  No science going on here just at the moment.  Let’s move on.

It’s very economical. We can run food and water on one, two or three cycle mode. That’s because slaves are very wasteful – their waste products still contain useful nutrients. We can set it automatically to cycle the waste through a second, or even a third time before it delivers fresh food. There are no set times for feeding or evacuation, by the way – it’s more like a constant oozing. Round and round.  Round and round…

On some models, there is an electric shock setting, which can deliver shocks to various body parts at a random intervals, on an average frequency set by the user. You can also programme it to deliver the majority of shocks overnight, on the Economy 7 tariff. So it’s not too extravagant, and it does give you peace of mind to stop you worrying that the boy might be happy. But this is the basic model – just keeps the boy warm, fed and alive. And in one place, obviously. We’re hoping these might find a use as emergency slave supplies storage, for example sitting ready to ship to disaster areas when there’s an urgent need for a lot of manual labour. But we’re still exploring all the possibilities really.

What’s that? Well this model was only completed last year, so of course it’s not been tested beyond twelve months. But we’re confident it could run without a hitch for ten years if need be. We have earlier models that have been loaded for just over five years, and we have about a 70% survival rate there – which is pretty good for a prototype, we feel. We’ve just put an eighteen year-old into one of these new models, and we’ve stored it away to bring out at FEMDOM’s 100th birthday party in 72 years time. Hoping to bring out a ninety year-old slave! Yes – I know it’s a horrible thought. But we’ll dispose of him quite quickly, it’ll really just be a PR device to show off the model’s capability.

Boring? Yes, I suppose it will be. But when you think of the things that might otherwise be happening to him on the outside, he’s rather lucky really.

An example of the high technology precision instruments available in the facility.

Come along, there’s much more to see. Let’s visit the biology section, as I think you’ll find that very educational. Oh – don’t look like that. I promise you, this is nothing like a school biology lesson. Follow me, and don’t touch anything.

A lecture on genetics and evolution

Now, inside us, what makes us what we are, are things called genes. It’s because of my genes that I have blue eyes and –

 – Can you pay attention please? ‘Rachel’ is it? Well, it is because of your genes that you have your beautiful amber eyes, Rachel, so do try to keep them open!

Genes determine a lot of things: what you like to eat, who you choose as your girlfriend, even little things like whether you prefer Brie or Cheddar cheese, or you like your males screaming or gagged when you punish them. All living things have genes. We have a set of genes that makes us differ from each other a bit, but also makes us people; unlike chimps, lizards, males or daffodils.

Yes, that’s right. Males are genetically quite distinct from us. Research into the ‘Y’ chromosome – which males have and we do not – has identified genes for clumsiness, for stupidity, for arrogance and for laziness.

But nature is a wonderful creator of balance. Our own double-X chromosomes dispose us towards command, control and also give us a healthy streak of cruelty. For millennia, females’ sadistic nature was ignorantly repressed. Women who punished men were regarded as unusual, sick even. But now we understand that a desire to inflict pain on males is natural: an innocent desire just like an appetite for delicious food, an appreciation of beauty or the love of another woman.

Using evolutionary principles of the survival of the fittest, institute scientists have for some time now been trying to evolve men who can breathe underwater – so far, it has to be admitted, without success.

We females and males are yin and yang, the hammer and the anvil, the hawk and the mouse, the hot iron and the flesh. We need to punish them to be fully human, and they need punishment to be useful and fulfilled.

Male inferiority is simply a scientific fact. For example, consider the male genitalia. Yes, I know it’s disgusting. But really, just think how wonderfully well-designed they are for their purpose. The testicles hang neatly outside the body, affording easy access for dominant females. Yet, they are more sensitive than any other part of the male body, and as you no doubt all know, even a relatively gentle tap with any instrument can result in a gratifyingly agonized response. Human male testicles are considerably larger than those of the other great apes, so there’s plenty to work with.

Now, creationists make a lot of this: they say that male testicles being so perfectly suited to our desire to hurt them shows the Goddess’s hand as a supernatural creator. But most scientists just see it as another beautiful proof of evolution. Current scientific thinking is that as humans developed a two-legged posture, the use of knees on male testicles became particularly easy and males with more sensitive and exposed testicles would have an evolutionary advantage, being more willing to submit themselves to wiser female direction. So, those with more sensitive testicles thrived under female control, while those with less sensitive ones did their own thing – and probably got run over by mammoths, or fell off cliffs and suchlike. So – the latest scientific thinking is that the testicles evolved as they are, essentially to be punished.

Indeed, some biologists believe that humans’ upright posture itself actually evolved to allow easier punitive access to the testicles, as well as positioning the buttocks perfectly for the use of correctional tools. And also, you might like to know, some believe that our opposable thumb and tool-using capabilities evolved primarily in order to wield instruments of correction on male buttocks. Imagine yourselves back in Africa a million years ago, on the very day when some brilliant apelike human gazed down at a stick on the ground and conceived of using it for whipping the buttocks of some uncooperative male. The dawn of womankind! But I digress.

Are we still evolving? No, almost certainly not. Evolution works through natural selection, and in today’s comfortable world, with so many machines, modern medicines and slaves, the pressures that drive natural section are absent. People will remain much as they are – which is pretty perfect anyway. But males are probably still evolving. Of course, not much happened until the female-led revolution restored the natural order of things 30 years ago. But now, with the widespread use of remote electric shock devices, the two-legged posture is no longer needed to allow testicular access, and of course most owners prefer their slaves to spend a lot of time on all fours…so males are almost certainly reverting to quadrupedal status.

What can she mean?  Find out next time, for this story is…

TO BE CONTINUED! 
Under pressure from animal rights groups, the facility has been seeking to develop human male (humale) alternatives to domesticated animals.  Success has been mixed.  The humale version of the pig has already been replacing animals in farms across the country.  The development of horses is proceeding well, although there is still some way to go.  But researchers have to report that there has been almost no progress at all in replacing the cow with a humale alternative at this stage.  The volume of milk produced is very low and the taste simply awful.

*Under its original name, the British Institute of Technology for Caring and Healing – a name chosen supposedly to hide its true purposes, without much success.

**Historical note.  A landmark piece of legislation, in the post-revolutionary era, the Male Citizenship and Private Property Act, as its title implies, removed citizenship from men and redefined them as private property.

Fiction: Air Divine




Air Divine cabin crew are fully trained to deal with all situations, so sit back and let us take control.

“Welcome aboard this Air Divine flight from the United Queendom to San Domina.  On behalf of the Captain and Her crew, we hope that all female passengers will have a pleasant flight with us today.  Our flight time to San Domina is nine hours and forty-five minutes.  Our apologies again for the late departure of your flight today.  As you know, this was due to male incompetence leading to air traffic control problems in the UQ area.  We are expecting to encounter strong tailwinds during the flight and We hope to make up most of the 20 minutes and have every expectation of an on-time arrival in San Domina.  Nonetheless, in accordance with UQ aerospace policy, the air traffic controller and today’s air traffic control supervisor will each be receiving a stroke of the cane for each minute the take-off was delayed.  I have just been informed that this will be administered as soon as they come off shift later today, so once you reach your hotel in San Domina, you might like to visit the Air Divine web site, where you can observe the video of their correction by entering your flight number, or download it as a souvenir of the trip with our compliments.
Female class is towards the front of the aircraft today and male class towards the rear.  We have a rather full flight with almost thirty female passengers and one hundred and seventeen males. We recommend that female passengers do not enter the male area, which is situated past the jacuzzi area about two-thirds of the way down the length of the aircraft, as the configuration of the seating in male class makes movement difficult and the overcrowding may sometimes result in unpleasant odours.  Rest assured that we are running the air conditioning at full capacity, and will be keeping the door to male class firmly closed throughout the flight.
In female class today, I will be your stewardess, with my five assistants, and we will do everything possible to make your flight as agreeable as possible.  You each have a personal slave, presently stowed in the base of your seat, in addition to the ten cabin slaves who will be assisting the cabin service today.  Please make use of any or all of these facilities, to provide amusement and diversion during the flight in any way you desire.  As this is a long flight, please check with a member of the cabin staff before inflicting debilitating punishment on any of the cabin slaves.  We should have plenty, but we do need to ensure that enough remain conscious towards the end of the flight to ensure that the service standards on which we pride ourselves are maintained all the way through to disembarkation.
Passengers preferring to use their own slaves in-flight are welcome to do so, but please ensure that these are stowed in the overhead lockers or securely under the seat in front of you for take-off and landing.




All Air Divine flights contain ample storage space for slaves for in-flight use, with plenty more carrying capacity in the hold.  So even when travelling. you can enjoy all the comforts and amusements of home.

We have a full range of audio-visual treats on your personal screen, including on this flight a special feature from the Other World Kingdom.  Playstation games and vanilla media are also available.  We have seven playrooms available in female class, all equipped with a fine range of leather, rubber and electrical toys.  Playrooms 2 and 7 have been designated for watersports.  Please refrain from watersports in any of the other playrooms.  Please note also that toilets 3 and 4 are fitted with toilet slaves for your convenience, the others using traditional bowl technology.  The playrooms are all fully soundproofed, so please feel free to express yourselves fully.  Passengers who are nervous flyers are particularly encouraged to make use of the facilities, as it has been clinically demonstrated that these uncomfortable feelings of nervousness can be effectively dissipated by the screams produced by a vigorously punished male.  In the event of severe turbulence, please leave the playrooms and return to your seats, without stopping to untie or loosen any slaves.
The smoking area is situated towards the front of the cabin.  Please ensure that all smoking materials are extinguished in the slaves provided prior to our commencing the descent.  You are welcome to smoke at all other times.




Male class passengers can be assured that the crew will do everything possible to make your journey less comfortable.  If there is anything more you need, and you find you can speak even when tightly gagged, please feel free to ask.  You can be assured of receiving some very personal attention, for the remainder of your flight.

In male class, the cabin Supervisors are Miss Hardcastle and Miss Clarissa.  Passengers are reminded that they may not attempt to leave their seats, talk or consume any items without permission from the cabin supervisors.  Seatbelts have been locked and will remain so for the duration of the flight, and gags will be administered to any passengers finding the no-talking policy difficult.  Our cabin Supervisors are fully trained in whipping and other corporal discipline, so your compliance in this regard is appreciated.  Each male will be permitted one bathroom break, to be taken only at the times required by our Supervisors.  In the event of a desperate need for a bathroom break at any other time, please inform the supervisors, who will be happy to fit tourniquets and anal plugs to prevent leaks.  Passengers considering soiling their seats should be aware that Air Divine operates a strict policy of testicle-crushing for any such offence.  All male passengers should please be aware that Air Divine operates a strict no-wanking policy on all its flights.  The toilets are fitted with semen detectors, and any violation of this rule will result in an immediate whipping and tight suspension for the remainder of the flight.
The Supervisors will shortly be passing through the cabin distributing the in-flight entertainment, which today consists of 1500 lines.  The line today is “There can be nothing better suited to my status than to spend a nine hour flight writing lines.  I am strapped to my seat with no means of escape should the plane crash, supervised by cabin staff who would have no qualms whatever about watching me die in agony.”  Passengers should note that lines must be completed, legibly, at least 30 minutes prior to landing.  Incomplete and illegible lines will result in a note being made on the passenger’s file, and correction will be administered on your next flight with Air Divine.  Passengers may care to glance towards the back of the cabin, where they can observe lazy slaves from previous flights hogtied to the ceiling, for the duration of the flight.  Nipple clamps will be administered for the final three hours of their flight, as we find that the agonized moans help other passengers to concentrate on the importance of completing their homework.
We will shortly be serving drinks and light refreshments in female class.  We have a very complete wine list today, and a fine range of spirits and mixers for cocktails or any other drinks you may require.  We have a fully-stocked kitchen on board, with fresh meat and vegetables, as well as bread produced during the flight in our on-board bakery.  There is no specific menu: please simply order what you like, and our three trained chefs will endeavour to produce it.  Please remember to fill in the customer feedback form if at all disappointed with the meal preparation, as we like to hold our staff to the most exacting standards and we make full use of customer feedback in their weekly performance review and incentive sessions.  We have a fresh fruit and salad bar, but for a less healthy option, may I take this opportunity to remind you that we stock most of the world’s leading brands of chocolates?
In male class, nosebags will be distributed and attached about halfway through the flight.  Passengers are reminded that all the food must be consumed.  Owners are assured that the nourishment provided in male class meets San Domina standards of hygiene for male consumption, and that the rank odour in no way indicates that your slave will be damaged as a result of consuming it.  Passengers in male class are also reminded to make full use of the two opportunities during the flight to consume liquids, as additional watering will not be provided except in cases of severe dehydration leading to unconsciousness.
In the unlikely event of an emergency, the captain will illuminate the emergency signs in female class.  Please return to your seats and allow the cabin slaves to secure your seat belts.  Oxygen masks will descend from the overhead lockers, and will be gently fitted by the cabin slaves.  Please note that oxygen supplies are limited and we regret that none can be provided for personal slaves, who must be securely stowed in the overhead lockers or under the seat in front of you in an emergency.  In the very unlikely event of a forced landing, please disembark the aircraft as quickly as possible, in the directions indicated by cabin staff.  Do not stop to pick up any personal belongings, such as handbags, laptop computers or slaves.  Your safety is our number one concern.  Once all female passengers have left the aircraft, the crew will conduct a final check before themselves disembarking.  In the even more unlikely event of a landing on water, three cabin slaves will be installed in each life raft as emergency food supplies.
In the event of an emergency the door to the male cabin will be locked by the departing cabin supervisors.  Regrettably, under emergency conditions it will not be possible to reopen this door, as the screams of terror may prevent important safety announcements from being heard in the main cabin.  Once again, I remind you that the safety of our female passengers is our number one concern.  Passengers concerned about their slaves should be reassured that Air Divine’s comprehensive insurance cover, included in the price of your ticket, provides for full replacement of any property, including owned males, damaged or destroyed in-flight.






Prefer to sample the delights of San Domina without the boys?  The state-of-the-art airport storage facility is at your disposal.  Please note that slaves left unclaimed 30 days after the due pick-up date will be removed and may be destroyed.

On arrival at San Domina, please collect your slaves from the slave hall before proceeding through passport control.  Holders of San Domina passports need complete no immigration formalities for the importation of live slaves.  Holders of other passports should note that males accompanying them will be recorded as entering as their property for the duration of their visit, and should fill out a form of temporary ownership.  Males must be tattooed with an ownership number at immigration.  If you do not wish your male to be marked in this manner, or for any other reason would prefer not to be accompanied by your male during your stay in San Domina, please make use of the kennel facilities in the airport, where your male will be stored securely and hygienically for the duration of your visit.  Should you wish to sell or otherwise dispose of your slave during your stay, or acquire a new one, please ensure that you fill out a change of ownership form, as males are permitted to leave the country only under the control of their designated owner.  Note that duty-free allowances for spirits, wine and tobacco apply only to people as defined under San Domina law, not to males.
Once again, on behalf of Air Divine I hope our female passengers enjoy the flight, and that our male passengers do not.  If there is anything at all that can be done to make your flight more enjoyable, or your slave’s flight less so, please let me or my cabin staff know and we will endeavour to assist.  We know that our female customers have a choice of airline, and we appreciate your continued custom aboard Air Divine.  Finally, may I draw your attention to our frequent flyers programme?  Frequent flyers with Air Divine can receive a wide range of awards, from free samples of our exclusive range of Air Divine crops to perfumes, fine wines and jewellery.  As an additional incentive, new recruits to the programme will receive a free slave.  Membership is free, so please sign up today and pick up your free slave from the customer help desk on arrival.
Enjoy your flight on Air Divine, your dungeon in the sky.
Air Divine: We never forget they don’t have a choice.

Fiction: If at first you don’t succeed

The heavy paddle swept down and forward in a smooth movement and – CRACK – impacted the bright red bottom bent tightly over the desk.
“Twenty-three” Mistress Valerie intoned firmly, over the shrieks of the firmly-tied target.  He himself had long since stopped counting and thanking, and with a faint muffle caused by the thin panties covering his face, had passed through begging for mercy and was now capable only of crying hysterically and continuously.
Mistress Valerie drew the paddle back again and – WHACK!  “That’s twenty-four!” she pronounced above the sobs.  She strode around to the pantied head, noting the small puddle of tears on the floor with some disgust.
“Now let that be a lesson to you, Servitor!” she intoned, and stood frozen in silent triumph over her victim for a while.
“And…CUT” came a voice.
Mistress Valerie relaxed her pose and grimaced.  “How was that?” she asked worriedly.  “Was the lighting all right?”
“Yeee-es” Sandra said slowly, an elegant finger working the touchpad on a laptop wired up to all the video equipment.  “But I’m a bit worried about that siren that went past four minutes in…hang on.”
As Sandra listened intently to Her earpiece, Mistress Valerie leant back against the wall, arms crossed.  She gazed at the shaking, sweating Servitor with revulsion, and tried not to think that this sort of moment was just what cigarettes had been invented for.  She had given up just six weeks earlier.
“No” Sandra said resignedly, shaking her head.  “It just messes up the whole of strokes thirteen and fourteen.  We’d better take it again from the top.”
Mistress Valerie swore under her breath and stepped forward to pick up the paddle again.  There was a moan from below.  She glanced down in irritation.
“Oh do be quiet Servitor.  You wanted to be in a video and now you are.  I take my work very seriously; the least you can do is try to behave reasonably professionally.”
She composed her features, hefted the paddle, then nodded at her friend.
“Twenty-four strokes with the paddle, Take Nine.” called Sandra.
“And…Action!”

Fiction: Take me to your Mistress

An extremely silly science fiction story, for those who like that sort of thing.

“Where’s Servitor?” Mistress Valerie asked.
Sandra looked up from the picnic table where she was heating water for some tea.  “I sent him over the ridge to the stream to wash up the dishes” she replied, nodding towards a rise in the ground just beyond the field where they had eaten lunch.
Just as she spoke, there was an eerie wail and a whoosh, and the far side of the ridge lit up with a blue flash, accompanied by green beams of light stabbing up into the sky.
Mistress Valerie looked worried.  “That sounds like an unusually severe fuck-up even by Servitor’s standards” She said.  “I’d better go and take a look.”  She took a riding crop, in case Servitor needed some help getting on with his work, and set off towards the disturbance.
As she scrambled over the top of the ridge, an extraordinary sight met her eyes.  Instead of seeing Servitor diligently scrubbing plates and forks in the little brook at the bottom, she saw what could only be described as a flying saucer.  Green, about 20 metres across and pulsing with energy, it had a ramp extended down to the ground.  Near the bottom of this ramp lay Servitor, stark naked (as he had been before, to be fair) and writhing helplessly (which on this occasion he had not been, at least not yet).
Standing over him was the strangest sight of all – a grey humanoid creature, with a huge bulbous head from which tentacles emerged curling over and down from its mouth.  It had two pairs of dark, intelligent, human-looking eyes above a gill-like arrangement on its cheeks.  It was looking down at Servitor, and prodding him with its tail.
Mistress Valerie strode down towards it.  “Oi!  Leave that alone – it’s mine.” she ordered, riding crop at the ready.
The creature looked up at the new arrival and made a strange whiffling noise.  “Ah, another puny human creature!”  it boomed.  “Have you come to challenge me, earthling?  You cannot harm me, a telepathic immortal of superior intellect and power of which you cannot conceive!  Surrender now.”
“I don’t think so” Mistress Valerie replied, casually.  “Now I told you – that’s mine and I want you to leave it alone.”  She flexed the riding crop menacingly.
The creature whiffled its laugh again.  “My technology is so far beyond your silly little stick-weapon as to be beyond your comprehension, earthling!” it declared contemptuously.  “See how I inflict agony on this ally of yours with just the power of my mind!”
And its forehead wrinkled, light enveloped the struggling Servitor and he instantly flung his limbs out in all directions, threw back his head and screamed in agony.  The creature watched approvingly for a few seconds, then nodded and the light faded to nothing, leaving Servitor to collapse in a shuddering heap.
“Yeah – but he loves it really.” Mistress Valerie said calmly, gazing down at the sobbing form.  “I’ve seen it before – hamming it up.  He gets all turned on thinking about it afterwards.”
“Does he?” the alien replied, uncertainly, suddenly no longer quite so confident.  It looked down at Servitor carefully.  “So he does.  How very unusual.  Are there many like him on your planet?”
“Oh, not that many.” Mistress Valerie smiled.  “But enough to pay the mortgage, you know?”
The creature looked confused.  Then it seemed to rally itself, and straightened up decisively. “Still – “ it boomed, louder than ever “ – the time has come, earthling, for you and all your kind to surrender to the power of – “
“Did you say ‘telepathic’?” Mistress Valerie inquired, casually.
The alien looked back at Her.  “Errr…yes, telepathic.” it said.
“You can look into people’s minds and read their thoughts?” Mistress Valerie prompted.
“I can” it said proudly, drawing itself up a little higher.
Mistress Valerie took a step forward, almost touching the frontal fronds of the strange creature.  She fixed its eyes with a level stare.  “Look into mine!”, She whispered.
The creature stared back into her amber eyes, its forehead wrinkled and its own eyes assumed a slightly faraway look.  It seemed a little puzzled at first, then a look of pure terror swept across its face.  Its eyes snapped back to reality, and met Mistress Valerie’s cool stare again for half a second more.  Then with a high-pitched whimper of fear and a flurry of tentacles, it disappeared up into the spaceship, which lurched off the ground with a whine of engines, and hurled itself into the sky with indecent haste.
Mistress Valerie gazed up at the fast-disappearing dot.  “I think I just saved the world” she mused.  “They should put up a statue to me.”
She looked down to the ground, where Servitor was burbling something grovelly about always wanting to put up a statue to her, and was also trying to kiss her boot.  She moved away with distaste and kicked him gently in the face.
“Come on Servitor – can’t just laze around there all day.” She announced.  “Get on with your work, or you’ll be getting a taste of my crop.”
And she cracked it down across his naked flesh, just for emphasis.  She looked with approval at the angry red welt that instantly appeared.
“Silly little stick-weapon indeed!” She snorted.  “Some creatures just don’t appreciate good old-fashioned craftsmanship.”
And as Servitor limped slowly back towards the washing up, she set off back up the ridge to see if the tea was ready.
My apologies for the way the picture does not in any way match the story, except being a dominant woman in a SF setting.  But I just had to include it…fondly remembering when as a teenager, I was delightfully surprised when the divine Rachel Welch transformed an episode (actually two episodes) of Mork and Mindy into…a formative experience for this young pervert.

Fiction: ‘Scenes’

Eight out of ten Mistresses say their slaves prefer it…

“We’ll have to try that again some time!” Mistress Valerie chuckled to her friend Sandra, watching through the window as Servitor’s taxi headed off towards the station.
“Even Servitor’s not dopey enough to fall for it twice.” her friend smiled.  “He got so stressed though!  I thought he was going to have a heart attack at one point – he went purple.  It was like he wanted it, but he didn’t want it.”
“Subs are like that” Mistress Valerie said absently.  “Especially humiliation sluts like Servitor.  Fantasizes about being made to eat cat food, but then he can’t really do it.”
“He did try to open his mouth for it” Sandra said.  Though I’m not sure you could have got it in, he was quivering so much.”
“I should have just gone for it and shoved the spoonful in ” Mistress Valerie mused.  “But I was savouring the moment and that gave him too much time to think and all of a sudden it was ‘oh Mistress, amber, no red Mistress!’  Bloody safewords, always spoiling the fun.”
“It was pretty horrible stuff.” her friend pointed out.  “Even later on, after you’d admitted it was ordinary mince with a Kittycat label put on it, it still took him a while to get it all down.”
“Yes – it was really nasty wasn’t it?” Mistress Valerie agreed, wrinkling Her pretty nose.  “I don’t see how they can get away with selling it.  All fat and gristle…and the smell!  It’s a good job you didn’t buy that ‘value range’ stuff they sell – that must be fucking disgusting.”
“We should try it on other slaves” Sandra giggled.  “It was brilliant.  And you made it look so convincing – how did you manage to get the label on so firmly and neatly?”
“I didn’t.  I thought you were going to swap the labels?” Mistress Valerie replied in puzzlement.
The two Ladies looked at one another for a moment in surprise, and then burst out laughing and went into the living room to watch TV.

Medical donation

“You look ever so good in that nurse’s uniform” Sandra said admiringly.
Mistress Valerie smiled modestly.  “Well, it’s practical as well as shapely” She giggled.  “After all, there’s bound to be rather a lot of blood and stuff when we get started, and that’s just what this is designed for.”
Her friend looked at her in surprise.  “We’re not really going to do it, are we?  I thought it was just a scare-Servitor fantasy.”
“Oh come on” Mistress Valerie grumbled.  “I’ve always wanted to try this.  I bought the scalpels and things specially.”
Sandra still looked dubious. 
“It’s only Servitor!” Mistress Valerie declared, in exasperation.  “What’s the problem?”
“Well it’s just…” Her friend replied, looking worried.  “Just a bit…non-consensual.”
“Ah – no!  No, it’s not!” Mistress Valerie replied excitedly.  “Look – I found that during his last session, while I was taking all the money out of his wallet.  See?”
With a sense of triumph She handed Sandra a small, slightly grubby rectangle of cardboard.
“An organ donation card.” Sandra said slowly, reading it.  “Well, perhaps…”
“No perhaps about it.  Servitor wants to donate his organs, and we want to remove some of them, so it’s all perfectly consensual!” Mistress Valerie declared decisively.
“Come on – help me strap him down before he regains consciousness.”

Tangible assets

“It’s the tax inspectors” Sandra explained, looking worried.
Mistress Valerie eyed the phone grimly.  “Can you handle it?” She whispered.
Sandra rolled her eyes and spoke into the receiver.  “I’m afraid the proprietor isn’t here right now.  I’m the company secretary for DommeValerie Ltd.  Can I help?”
Mistress Valerie fidgeted nervously, as her friend talked to the taxman on the phone, while calling up copies of their company accounts on the screen in front of her.
“Yes, that’s right, it’s the first time we’ve filed returns.  Oh thank, you.  Well you know, we just read all the leaflets and tried to do it as best we could.  Your web site’s quite helpful.  OK…OK…is it?  Yes, OK.  Well, let me check that and get back to you.”  She put the phone down.
“Are they saying that ‘female domination services’ isn’t a legitimate business activity?” Mistress Valerie exploded angrily.  “Because you can tell them, I checked the law and – “
But her friend cut her off, shushing her gently.
“Well did we leave something out?” Mistress Valerie asked grumpily.
“Not at all” Sandra replied.  “In fact, he was quite complimentary about how complete our filing was.  It’s just an item in this table that he doesn’t understand.”
She pointed up at her screen.  “Company assets: fixed and movable property owned wholly or partially by the designated enterprise” it read, at the top of a large table of items with valuations attached.
Mistress Valerie peered at the screen.  “Well I just tried to list everything we own that gets used in the business.  The more you put in, the more tax relief you can claim.  What’s he challenging?  Is it all the dungeon equipment?  It does say in the forms that you have to put down the function the assets play in the running of the business, and if those little creeps can’t handle an honest description of the uses to which I – ”
Once again her friend cut her off, shaking her head and pointing, with an elegant finger, to an item about halfway down the table.
‘Item: Servitor.’  Mistress Valerie read out.  ‘Wholly owned by DommeValerie Ltd.  Purpose: cleaning services for business premises.  Valuation: £50”
Mistress Valerie smiled.  “Well, maybe that is going a bit far.” She agreed.  “All right, I’m not going to get into an argument with them. We’ll take him out.”
Sandra nodded and reached for the phone.
Mistress Valerie headed back out onto the landing, where without breaking step she delivered a sudden kick to the figure in maid’s uniform who was polishing the banister, before heading downstairs.
“Not even tax-deductable, you useless little bastard!” she snapped, without looking back.

Idiom

“Well he should choose his words with more care, then, shouldn’t he?” Mistress Valerie complained.  “What did he think I’d do, when he said he would crawl across broken glass for me?”
“I’ll get a mop” sighed Sandra.

Fiction: At the third stroke

(As there has been discussion of ‘Daylight Saving Time’ on other blogs lately, I thought I would offer this little twiddle.  Pedants might like to notice that it actually refers to the last equinox, of course, not this one.  Spring forward, fall back and all that.)

Mistress Valerie strode out of Her dungeon carrying a cane, and knocked gently on the door of the next room.  “Are You going to be ready to go soon?”
Her friend Sandra stuck a puzzled-looking head around the door.  “We’re not going to leave for an hour yet, surely?  It doesn’t start until eight.”
“But it’s nearly seven already” Mistress Valerie said.
“No it isn’t” Sandra replied.  “It’s not even six o’clock yet.”  She thought for a moment.  “You do know the clocks went back last night, don’t you?”
“I…” Mistress Valerie began, then stopped. “Oh.  No, I forgot.”  She said.  “So We’ve got plenty of time.”
“That’s right” Sandra replied cheerfully, closing the door again.
“And servitor wasn’t an hour late…” Mistress Valerie mused to Herself , looking down at the cane in Her hand.  She swished it back and forth a few times, thoughtfully.
“Oh well”, She said, to no one in particular.  “I don’t suppose it did him any long term harm.  I’ve started so I might as well finish.”
And, cane at the ready, She strode back into the dungeon.

Fiction: Crossed wires

“So this is your latest project?” Alice asked with interest, gazing at the nervous-looking man standing naked before them.  “I don’t see anything unusual.”
“Turn around boy!” Serena barked.
The man slowly shuffled through a 180 degree turn and Serena pointed to a small scar on the back of his neck.
“That’s the only outward sign.  Not very impressive, I know.  But the real change is inside.  Back against the wall and hands up to the shackles!”
The man unhappily turned back around, stepped back against the wall and raised his hands up to the rings fastened there.
Serena stepped forward and started hooking his steel cuffs onto the rings, securing his hands neatly in place.
“Oh please, Mistress…” he began to mumble, tears rising in his eyes.
Serena briskly hit him across the face and he fell silent.
“I’m sorry about that” she said, glancing at Alice.  “There aren’t that many boys who’ve had the op and they haven’t all adjusted to their new lives yet, so they can get a bit impertinent.  But I don’t want to gag him, or we’ll miss all the fun.”
She completed the arrangements by passing straps around his waist and knees, preventing any significant movement except at his extremeties.  Then she stepped back with satisfaction.
“There” she said, indicating the man’s genitals with the tip of her riding crop.  “That’s the area of interest.”
Alice looked down.  It certainly was.  The penis lay there, pink fleshy and untouched, hanging over a pair of balls that looked full and ready for action without being swollen.  This was most unusual.  She couldn’t remember ever having seen one of her friend’s slaves with such untouched organs before.  Usually they were locked in steel devices, or increasingly these days kept on display in the glass cabinet in Serena’s bedroom, removed for safekeeping from their earlier attachment.  At the very least, they were usually covered in burn or stretch marks as a result of her friend’s little experiments.  In one memorable case, the slave’s penis and tongue had been swapped around (see previous Serena story here), while in another Serena had artfully induced the scrotal sac to grow to almost three feet in length, forcing the unfortunate slave to drag his testicles along the ground as he walked (she loved to put him in boots, blindfold him, spin him around and watch him tread on his own balls).  But these genitals were pristine.
“Goodness, it’s hot in here” Serena murmured slyly and took off her top.
Alice looked with approval at her friend’s newly exposed body, the breasts cupped in a lacy bra.  She felt stirrings of desire, both at the thought of completing Serena’s disrobing later and also at what was certain to be a most unpleasant experience that her friend had planned for the man sweating before them.  She looked again at his penis and noted that it was swelling slightly.  The man was grimacing, and trying desperately to look at the ceiling.
Serena giggled and reached forward.  “Pretty little things” she said happily, and to Alice’s amazement she reached forward and gently stroked the top of the growing pink organ, running the tip of her finger from its base slowly down to the quivering head.  This was extraordinary.  Generally, penises that felt the touch of Serena’s fingers experienced nothing gentle, and indeed often the touch of her fingers was the second-last sensation that they ever felt.
What was still more amazing was the male’s reaction, though.  As Serena stroked, he choked off a shriek of agony, bubbling up through his lips.
“He doesn’t seem to like it very much” Alice observed.
“Yes he does” her friend replied.  “Look.  He’s an excited little boy.”  And indeed, the penis itself seemed to be enjoying the treatment.  It had reached a horizontal position.
Serena licked her fingers, then flicked them in little tickling movements against the underside of the penis.  The man howled almost as soon as she started, then choked off his shrieks as if trying desperately to master the pain.  Serena waited until he seemed to be under control, his jaw firmly clenched and shuddering with the effort.
“Look at me” she said, quietly.
The man made an obvious effort to brace himself and directed his terrified, tear-filled eyes to her cool gaze.  Serena smiled at him, and without looking down she curled her hand around the end of his penis and gave it a soft squeeze.
This seemed to be too much, and the man’s gaze instantly left hers as he threw back his head and screamed once again in agony.
Serena stepped back, leaving him panting in exhaustion.  “Do you want a go?” she asked her friend with a grin.
Alice stepped forward uncertainly. It was a while since she’d touched a penis.  In the early days of her marriage, of course, before the changes to their relationship, she had frequently had contact with David’s organ.  Indeed, even after they had settled into more of an owner and slave dynamic, she had occasionally allowed release.  But she’d gradually got out of the habit, and after she’d make clear to David that she would prefer not to be reminded (she had expressed herself quite forcefully and he seemed to have taken the point) she had almost forgotten that he had anything at all down there beneath his skirt.  In fact, she decided, she really ought to do something about that.  She made a mental note to ask Serena to bring her surgical kit the next time she came around.
Somewhat thrown by the incongruity, she reached forward and gently poked the swollen organ.  The man grunted uncomfortably.  Remembering some of the things David used to like, back in the days when he was allowed pleasure, she placed her finger and thumb lightly in  a ring around the base and softly swayed it back and forth, letting the glans smack gently against the palm of her other hand.  The penis jerked into rigidity and the man’s mouth opened in an involuntary roar of agony.
“Oh you’re so cruel!” Serena remarked playfully, watching her friend play with the straining penis.  “Look how you’re hurting him.  The poor thing.” And she leaned forward closer to the man’s sweating face, watching happily as he tried to control the screams and gasps of pain.
“But why is it hurting him?” Alice asked in puzzlement.  “I mean, I’m not even…” and her voice broke off in pleasurable contemplation of the many, many things she could do if she were trying to hurt him.
“You are activating the nerves in his genitals.” Serena replied.  Every time you stroke his penis, every time he feels a surge of excitement in his balls, tens of thousands of little nerve endings say ‘oh – yes, yes, yes!’ and they fire off signals of excitement to his brain.”
“Up his spinal cord” Alice murmured, remembering the little mark on the back of the man’s neck.
“Up his spinal cord” Serena nodded.  “And the impulses go straight into the pleasure receptors in his brain, where he experiences a lovely sense of warmth, excitement and oncoming release.”
She laughed.
“Unless they get diverted on the way.”
Alice gazed at the man’s juddering head, trying to imagine the little electrical impulses arriving inside.  “Diverted?  I see.  I suppose diverted to – “
“Every nerve in his genitals plugs straight into the part of his brain that deals with pain.” Serena remarked briskly.  “Down there they fire off signals of pleasure, but he feels them as pain.  When he’s not being stimulated, there’s a constant mild discomfort.  But if we give him a little treat – “ and here she fondled the quivering member affectionately, making the man gasp in shock “ – he experiences it as pain.”
“Every pleasurable impulse is like a punishment” Alice mused, fascinated.  “So when we stroke him, he experiences it as if we were kicking him or something.”
“Oh no, it’s much worse than that!” Serena replied sharply. “Before the operation, only a tiny fraction of those nerve endings down there were pain receptors.  Now, in effect, they all are.”
Alice reached forward again and gave the penis a gentle squeeze.  When the shrieks had died away into breathless sobbing she asked “What did that feel like, boy?”
“Like…like…oh you can’t imagine, Miss Alice” the wretched man replied.
“Of course I can’t you idiot.  That’s what I want you to tell me!” Alice snapped, wondering for the millionth time why men found it so hard to obey simple commands.
“It’s…it’s…well it’s like being gripped by a red hot iron – but it’s ice cold as well, Miss.” he stuttered, desperately.  “And spikes digging into the flesh all at the same time.  Burning hot and freezing cold spikes.  And being crushed – like clamps but over every square millimetre of the, of the…” and he broke down weeping.
Serena nodded wisely.  “Heat receptors, cold receptors, pressure and rupture receptors – all leading straight into the pain centres”, she remarked.  “He’s not just experiencing pain, he’s experiencing pain in every feeling and impulse that arrives.”
“So do his pain receptors send signals to pleasure centres?” Alice asked, wondering if he’d actually enjoy a good hard kick in the balls (she didn’t much like the thought of that).
Her friend shook her head firmly.  “They still feed into the pain centre too.  I didn’t swap them around, I spliced them.  There’s nothing going into his pleasure centres from down there now.”
“Could you feed all his nerve endings from his entire body into the pain centres?” Alice asked excitedly.
Serena turned to look at her friend affectionately, thinking how much she loved her.  “We think so much alike!  Yes, I did try that.  But I think the pain just overwhelmed them.  As soon as they woke up after the anaesthetic, one quick shriek and they died.”
“Shame” Alice said.
“Yes” her friend agreed.  “But I gave it a good go.  I tried a dozen times at least and got the same result every time.”
“Still” Alice said happily.  “This is pretty good.”
“Oh, we haven’t got to the best bit yet, have we boy?” Serena replied slyly, reaching forward and grasping the penis in her hand.  She began slowly to squeeze rhythmically, gently moving her hand up and down.
The man choked off a scream by gritting his teeth.  He was obviously trying to say something, but found it impossible to get the words out.
Serena laughed.  “I expect he’s about to beg me to let him come.  Aren’t you boy?”
Driven out of his wits (such as they were) with pain, well beyond any ability to appreciate sarcasm, the man’s head thrashed from side to side in a frantic ‘no’.  But Serena giggled and simply continued the gentle squeezing and pumping motions.
“It’s his first time” she explained.   “He’s been close to the edge, but I haven’t taken him over it yet.  The survival rate isn’t great – one in three or so.  Even when they do survive, they never really recover.  I suppose the pain is just too much, and the brain just tries to disconnect itself from reality.  The survivors are just vegetables.  I use them for spare parts.”
She was varying her movements slightly now, occasionally jerking the penis with little tweaking movements, before returning to steady pumping at a gently increasing tempo, with a firm grip.  The man was now howling desperately in pain and uncontrollable fear.
It had been a while since she had witnessed a male orgasm, Alice thought to herself with interest.  She thought of her own orgasms.  The overwhelming pleasure, the surge of excitement and relief that overwhelmed all other thoughts and feelings, all reality all experience submerged beneath the rush of pleasure.  Imagine all that as pain, she thought as she gazed in wonder into the male’s terrified, pleading eyes.
Suddenly, she realised that she was close to climax herself.  She took hold of Serena’s left hand, and pressed it firmly against herself. Her friend smiled in pleasure, and leant over to kiss her, both hands now stimulating her two companions to further heights of pleasure, and pain. Respectively.
As the two mouths locked together, two tongues urgently exploring one another, Alice felt the onrush of an uncontrollable orgasm, as the horrified yells of terror beside her told her that the man was heading in the same direction.
They came together, as Alice shrieked out – as so many times before – her love for her dear friend.  But her words could not be heard, as in the captive male beside her a hundred thousand nerve endings proclaimed their joy, only to be felt as a hundred thousand agonies.

Fiction: the only thing worse than being locked in a chastity belt is…

“So what sort of belt are you using these days?” Amy enquired, glancing casually at the man waiting outside the café, rather weighed down with the shopping bags he was holding.
“CB6000?  Tickleberry?”
“Oh, I don’t keep him in a belt any more.” Sabrina replied.
“Ooooh!  Have you had him cut?” Amy asked with interest and some relish.
Her friend looked up at her.
“Certainly not.  Where would I kick him if there wasn’t anything left down there?”
Amy was confused.
“But I thought you didn’t allow him to come? Ever?”
“I don’t” Sabrina replied.  “It’s against my house rules and he knows it.”
She laughed, then took pity on her bemused friend.
“I’m just teasing you.  I had him fitted with a detector.  It’s a little chip that goes under his skin.  It monitors what’s going on, and reports it.”
“Reports it where?” Amy asked.
“It’s a web-based application that I can access from anywhere” her friend replied.  “Look.”
She pulled out her Blackberry, pressed a few keys, then passed it across the table.  It displayed some numbers, along with a large green rectangle labelled “flaccid” and various links to other pages.  Sabrina scrolled it down, and showed her friend the field that reported Last orgasm: 18th January 2011, 10.54.
“I can access all of the history at any time” she said, showing Amy some scrolling sets of numbers.
“And I’ve got it set up so that if he does have an orgasm, I get a text message immediately.”
“And it updates in real time?” Amy asked, enviously.
“Sure” her friend replied.  “BOY!”
The man started in shock, then scurried in past the amused looks from the other tables at his rapid response to the preremptory command.
“Sit down” Sabrina ordered, curtly, and with a worried expression on his face, he arranged the shopping bags on the floor and gingerly lowered himself into his seat.
“I’ve been telling Amy about our new approach to keeping your chastity” she said.  “How there’s really nothing to stop you getting…excited any more.  Nothing except the thought of my cane.”
She leaned over towards him, and gazed into his eyes.
“Nothing except that wicked cane…for a very…naughty…boy…” and her booted foot slowly began to caress his inner leg.
“Do you find it very frustrating?” Amy asked, her eyes wide and sympathetic.  “Only – and here she leaned forwards and smiled sympathetically.  “Only I find my man gets so very frustrated in his chastity belt.  Especially when I ask him to help me get undressed….” She eased back her top, to expose a lacy bra strap on her shoulder.  “….or to massage me with oil” she breathed.
“And you spank him too, don’t you?” Sabrina asked, innocently.
“Oh yes” Amy breathed heavily, her eyes widening.  “Yes, I spank him vigorously!  I get my hairbrush, and I put him across my thighs…” and she swivelled in her chair – “these thighs” – and she took hold of the man’s unresisting face, and directed attention down to where her thighs were visible between the top of her leather boots and the hem of her tight skirt.
Sabrina picked up the Blackberry and giggled.  “See?” she said, holding it out to her friend.
The rectangle was now bright red and contained the words “Fully erect”. In fact, the technology wasn’t really necessary for that, as the swelling was very clearly visible in the trousered lap in front of them.
Sabrina gently laid her hand on top of the straining material.  Amy noted with interest that several numbers on the Blackberry changed instantly, and a small exclamation mark began to flash.
Sabrina patted the mound gently and smiled.
“A very excited boy.  Aren’t we? Right here.”  She patted again.
“Yes, Mistress Sabrina” the unhappy man replied, hoarsely.
“Yes – very excited.”  She patted the mound again.  “But you won’t do anything about it, will you?”
“No Mistress Sabrina, it’s against the rules.”
“Whose rules?” Sabrina asked, sharply.
“Your rules, Mistress Sabrina.”
“And what happens to boys who break that particular rule?  Hmmm?” She was holding her hand flat, palm down over the bulge now, which was pushing urgently against it.
“They get the cane, Mistress Sabrina.”
“How many do you give him?” Amy asked with interest.
Sabrina smiled and nodded at the man.
“Two extra each time, Miss Amy” he replied.
“So you…?” Amy started, in puzzlement.
“He started with six” Sabrina replied, in a matter of fact way, taking her hand away from the bulge, which quivered slightly.  “And it goes up by two each time.  He’s disobeyed me nine times  since the belt came off, so now it’s 24 each time.”
Amy was impressed.  She had seen Sabrina disciplining her men on a few occasions.  24 with a cane was no joke, and would probably leave the miscreant barely able to walk.
“And it’s going to continue to go up?” she asked.
Sabrina looked a little shocked.  “Certainly not!” she replied, primly.  “It’s going to stay at 24 because he’s never going to be disobedient again.  That’s what you told me after the last beating, isn’t it boy?”
“Yes, Mistress Sabrina.”
“You finally learnt your lesson, didn’t you, when I gave you those 24?”
“Yes, Mistress Sabrina.”
Sabrina waited in silence, but something about her look conveyed menace.
“Err…thank you for teaching me such a valuable lesson, Mistress Sabrina!” he gasped, hurriedly.
Sabrina looked somewhat mollified.
“But if here were to have a little…slip” she remarked, knowingly. “Or maybe even an accident…then yes we would need to take an even firmer approach to the problem.”
“What if he has an involuntary emission – in the night for example?” Amy asked.
“Still beat him” Sabrina remarked casually.  “He might be lying about it, and it’s better to be safe than sorry.  Anyway, I think the cane should start to work on his unconscious mind too.”
She smiled at the man, who was obviously trying to think calming, unsexy thoughts – a difficult task in present company.
“But you worked it out, didn’t you?  What would happen if you had…say…one slip per year.  Just one little slip in every 365 days.  In twenty years time, you’d be getting…?”
“64 each time, Mistress Sabrina” he replied, with an unhappy quaver in his voice.
“And over those twenty years, you’d have had…?”
“Nine hundred strokes, Mistress Sabrina.”
“Nine hundred strokes.” She replied with satisfaction.  “So it’s worth exercising some self-control, isn’t it?  Because if it’s – oooh,  as much  twice each year, then in 20 years time that will be…?
“One hundred and four strokes a time, and two thousand six hundred strokes over the whole time, Mistress Sabrina.” he breathed.
“That’s right” she replied with satisfaction.  “So you keep it quiet down there.  Shoo, now!”

And the unhappy looking man got up and – with some apparent difficulty – slowly walked back to his post outside the café.

Fiction: Tomorrow’s World, today!

Note for all except British readers of a certain age.  ‘Tomorrow’s World’ was a popular BBC TV programme about science.  It was famous for presenting scientific breakthroughs in a relentlessly cheerful manner, painting a future of a bright shiny technological tomorrow.  I’m still waiting for my personal jetpack.  Also famous for unconvincing banter between the presenters and wobbly sets, like most British TV of the 70s and 80s.

Here’s a 70s domme to put you in the mood, then on with the story…

[Sarah] Welcome to this special edition of Tomorrow’s World, where we’ll be reporting on what might be the most significant scientific breakthrough since the theory of gravity.  Researchers at the Marie Curie centre for female science have announced a new discovery that could revolutionise the way we live, work and spend our leisure time.  Karen’s been looking into it.
[Sarah] So, Karen, what’s all the fuss about?
[Karen] Thanks Sarah.  Well, details are still a bit sketchy at the moment, but we’re beginning to hear some fascinating hints about a new technique that’s been discovered called “slavery”.
[Sarah] “Slavery”, eh?  So what does it involve?
[Karen] The technical details haven’t yet been published, but if I understand the basic principle correctly, the idea is to force male humans to work without pay, complaining or stopping for breaks.
[Sarah] Sounds wonderful if it’s true – the sort of ‘free energy’ source scientists have been seeking for years.  But how can you make men work for free?  I can’t get my husband to wash the dishes even now.  I’d love to make him a slave, but how can I?
[Karen] Well, Sarah that’s where the science comes in.  (Turns to look at the camera) There are two basic elements to the breakthrough – lust and pain.  Lust comes in because it’s been discovered that men have an area of the brain that provides a strong sexual urge to be dominated and to serve women.  In a very few men, it’s already developed but in most it is merely nascent.  The researchers at the Marie Curie Centre have found a way to stimulate it in all men, so that we can use its effects.
[Sarah] Sounds great.  But you mentioned two elements – what’s the other?
[Karen] The other is punishment.  You see, if there’s only the lust developed men want to spend the whole day looking at porn or just gently licking women’s leather boots.  Pleasant enough, but not particularly productive.  But then the researchers tried whipping these men – and things turned out very different.  Let’s hear from one of the scientists involved.  (looks off to the side)
Cut away to a confident-looking blonde woman in her early forties, wearing a lab coat.
[Scientist] Well, we had a new form of male life – slaves – and that was very exciting, but we couldn’t find a way of getting any useful work out of them.  We tried various combinations of diet and chemical stimulants, with a small degree of success but not the large-scale useful activity we were really looking for.  Then it was one of our young interns, actually, who tried thrashing one of them on the buttocks with a stick.  We were all just amazed: he was cleaning around the lab, washing up some of the test equipment and making tea without a word of complaint.
Camera pulls back to reveal a range of implements on the lab bench beside her.
[Scientist] Following that breakthrough, we conducted a rigorous and comprehensive sequence of tests on different materials – mostly leather or wood, but some plastic and metal too – lengths of material, part of the body beaten, duration of the beating and so on.  We’re still making progress, actually, getting some very exciting results with new and exotic materials.  But it’s quite clear that very acceptable results can be achieved by using a willow cane or a leather strap or whip, as long as the beating is repeated on a fairly regular basis.
A clip is briefly shown of a man being flogged briskly with a leather riding whip, dancing frantically as he dangles from his shackles and howling in pain as each stroke falls.
Back in the studio
[Sarah] Amazing.  And these materials – willow, leather and so on – they’re quite cheap and easy to obtain?
[Karen] That’s right.  In fact, most of our viewers could probably fashion something workable just from old materials they might have lying around the house.  An old leather belt, the rubber drive belt from an old washing machine, or even some nice whippy twigs from some varieties of tree will all make perfectly adequate instruments of correction, and get your house spic and span in no time.
[Karen] Sounds almost too good to be true.  But will it really change the way that we live?  What will life in the future be like, when slavery is cheap and plentiful?
Karen gets up and walks over to where a “living room of the future” has been mocked up, mostly using shaky cardboard. She stands in front of it, talking directly to the camera.
[Karen] Well, a lot of things in the future will still look much the same, but the underlying technology will be very different.
She sits down in an armchair
[Karen] Take TV, for example.  At the moment, I have to ­– and she reaches to the side for a remote control with obvious effort – reach out for a remote control, then choose one of all these many, many buttons just to switch the TV on.  But in the future, I can simply say
[Karen] “Slave!  TV!”
A naked man scurries out from behind her chair, over to the TV, switches it on and then returns to his hiding place
[Karen] And the TV automatically switches on.  And similarly, if I want to change channels or adjust the volume…
She demonstrates, calling out different options and sending the slave hurrying back and forth to adjust the TV for her convenience
[Karen] Again, it’s all done automatically – and all without leaving my seat.
[Karen] But that is not what’s really impressive about this new technology.  After all, even today TVs could come with voice recognition, which might achieve the same effect. 
Close up of her face as she frowns thoughtfully at the camera
[Karen] But could a TV with voice recognition get you a drink?  You see a slave is versatile and flexible, and this very same slave that just made the TV work just how I want it, can also fix me a drink.  I just need to give a different command – like this.
[Karen] “Slave! Gin and tonic.”
The naked man hurries over to the sideboard, and swiftly mixes the drink, then kneels before the presenter with the finished product, ice clinking gently against the sides of the glass.  She reaches for it and takes a sip.
[Karen] Hmmm (smiles at the camera).  Not bad.  But it’s not exactly how I like it.  I prefer my G&T to have just a little less tonic, and to have a slice of lime in it rather than lemon.  You see, this slave has never made me a G&T before, so he doesn’t know my preferences.  But unlike a mechanical device, he can learn, so that in future he’ll get it just how I like it.
[Karen] And this is where the really clever science comes in.  Slave!  Fetch the cane!
The man rushes off and returns to kneel before her with a long, whippy yellow cane.  Karen reaches forward with a smile and picks it up.
[Karen] Now this (flexing it through the air while smiling at the camera) is one of the canes supplied by the researchers.  But it could just as easily be an ordinary household cane, or even an unravelled coat hanger, if that’s all you can find.  Now watch how I adjust the slave, so that next time he remembers how I like my drink.
[Karen] Slave!  Bend over the chair!
The man bends over, and Karen stands up, takes two steps forward and swings the cane hard to lash across his buttocks.  He howls and shudders, but remains bent over.
Karen smiles at the camera again.  Now I‘m no expert in the use of this thing (she flexes the cane gently) .  I’ve never even used one before today, when I had about ten minutes practice during rehearsals.  But you can see there, I’ve already produced quite a nice mark, right across his buttocks.  Now what that is doing is activating the pain receptors right across all that skin and flesh underneath that red line – do you see how it’s swelling slightly, if we can get the camera in on that? – and those receptors are sending signals all the way to his brain, where his ideas about how I like my drinks are being adjusted.  And those pain receptors are still firing away even now, getting on for a minute after the stroke.  He’ll continue to be in pain from this beating for anything from a few hours to even a few days afterwards.
[Karen] But of course, I don’t need to understand all that just to use the cane.  That’s the simplicity of this new technology.  I don’t need to know the science, all I need to know is that if something isn’t quite to my liking, I can just beat this slave until it’s sorted out.  Like this.
She proceeds to add three more angry red lines to the first, then commands the slave to return the cane to its holder and to make her another drink.
[Karen] And it’s not just drinks – the same slave will clean your house, do the laundry and iron your clothes, in fact, he will do anything in his power to make your life as comfortable and convenient as possible.
The slave has returned and kneels before her proffering the new G&T, trembling slightly.  She reaches for it, and takes a sip.
[Karen] Hmmm.  Perfect.  Just the way I like it.  And later on, I might try out his culinary skills.  I’ll see if I can – she half-smiles at the camera and raises an eyebrow – whip up something tasty!
Cut back to Sarah
[Sarah] Oooh!  Now that hurts as much as the cane!  Do you think a slave could be made to write you some better jokes, Karen?
[Sarah] No, but seriously, we’ve been watching you do all these marvellous things with just a flick of that cane, and haven’t seen any use of mechanical power – no electricity, no fuel.  Is it all CO2 neutral?
Karen walks back off the domestic set to the main studio
[Karen] That’s right, Sarah.  No scarce fossil fuels used up, no harmful chemical by-products and it won’t contribute to global warming.  Slavery isn’t just a matter of convenience – it can help save the planet, too.
[Sarah] So how much can we expect slaves to do for us in the future?
[Karen] Well, Sarah, the researchers say that right now we are only just beginning to learn the possibilities of this exciting new technology.  We simply don’t yet know all of the things that slaves will be doing for us. Slavery will be all around us, it will be part of our everyday lives.  We probably won’t even think about all the slaves there working tirelessly behind the scenes.  We’ll be flicking with a whip to get things done, with no more thought than when flicking a light switch today.
[Karen] Of course, there’s some way to go yet until we really see the full potential for this technology.  For example, slave powered transport is an obvious area of research, but for now it’s probably limited to trips around town and slow-moving bulk transport. (she looks away to the side)
A short clip plays showing first, a neat little slave drawn buggy, then a larger team of slaves being whipped along a canal tow-path, pulling a barge.
[Karen] But research is continuing, and there’s a lot of commercial interest in development too.  I am sure there will be lots of exciting new things we can do with slaves that we’ll only discover as we start to use them.  I’ve been trying out some of the slaves from the science centre all day, and I can tell you I just don’t know how I ever managed without them.
[Sarah] So there we are.  Simple, yet high tech, effective and remarkably easy to use. A future of convenience and leisure, and saving the planet too!  I can’t see anyone objecting to that.
Karen smiles at her
[Karen] Well – except the slaves, I suppose!
[Sarah] Except the slaves, of course!
[Both (laughing)] Goodnight!
Lights dim and credits roll up the screen.
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