Category: Serena

But there’s no sense crying over every mistake

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

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

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

Here we go.


It’s hard to overstate my satisfaction

Thinking with Portals part 3 – a Serena and Alice story

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Does he like it?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Eat!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not with boys” she repeated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well… no.”

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

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

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

“Alice.  I’m – oh! –
I’m Alice.”

…

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

…

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

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

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

“Science” she replied. 

 

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


 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know: that’s the point.”

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

Alice was staring at her blankly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


 

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


…

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

Alive clapped politely.

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

“Is he next?”

Serena chuckled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

“Those who can, do, those who can’t, tech” shrugged Serena.  “Have you tried this Sachertorte?”

…

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

Epilogue

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

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

 

END


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

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

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



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


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

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

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

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

“Yes, Mistress.  Erm… if I may, what’s the theme of the fantasy you’ve chosen for me?”

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

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

“Only…” he had a sudden thought.  “Mistress, no!  Wait!  Please!  Some of my fantasies are a bit – “

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

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

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


We do what we must

 …because we can.

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

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

 

 

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

 

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

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

“Oh” she said.

“You mean, I can just…?”

Serena nodded.  “Right
here. Go ahead.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But where?” wailed the reliably slow Alice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

“What do you feed them?” Alice asked.

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

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

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

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

“Yes, but that was plutonium.**” began Serena “I’m talking about trace elements of – “

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

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

“Can we try?” Alice asked eagerly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They can hear us?” Alice asked.

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

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

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

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

“That must be quite demotivating” Alice remarked.

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

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

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

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

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

“Not really” Serena replied.

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

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

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


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


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


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

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

Now you’re thinking with portals

A Serena and Alice story


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

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

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

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

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



Now you’re thinking with portals


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

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

“Faster than light” Serena nodded.

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

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

“Male scientists” replied Serena.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The two embraced again, at length. 

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And?” snapped Serena.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



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

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


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

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

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

Story: love among the test tubes

Yes, it’s another Serena and Alice story. Heavy, non-consensual and utterly absurd throughout.  If any of those three things bother you, go and be bothered somewhere else.

Science: it’s a girl thing.

“And apparently in chemistry the situation is even worse!” Serena concluded.  “Only 23 percent!  It’s just ridiculous!”

Her friend Alice nodded silently.  The low proportions of women taking science subjects at university had been much in the newspapers, of course, but to a dedicated scientist like Serena – who also had strong views on the question of sexual equality (she was opposed to it) – it was unbearable.

“What do you think the reason is?” Alice asked.

“Well, it’s the fault of men, obviously.” Serena replied, calming down a bit.

“Obviously.” echoed Alice.

The two friends saw eye-to-eye on most things, but about men they were in particularly firm agreement.  For Serena’s birthday, Alice had bought her a t-shirt reading “Man-hating lesbian and proud of it”, and sometimes the two went out wearing identical messages.  But they weren’t that sort of separatist dykes who wanted to live in an all-female world.  No, both Alice and Serena thought that men were all right, in their proper place.  And principally, that proper place was as unwilling test subjects for Serena’s scientific experiments.  Science, and especially the scholarly exploration of male degradation, humiliation and torture was Serena’s passion*.  Alice’s passion was Serena, so she was a little less interested, but she did find it sexy when her lover made them do such funny things.  Especially when they screamed, or begged.  Or bits came off.

“It’s the male teachers in schools” Serena complained.  “They make it much too boring!  It’s all blackboards and formulae, and carefully measuring the volume of the precipitate.”

“I used to hate science at school” Alice agreed.  “I had this horrible teacher, Mr Greystoke, who just used to drone on and on – we never understood a thing and I think he just didn’t care.  I just thought science was boring.”

She caught sight of her friend’s shocked expression.

“Well, I don’t think that now, of course!  You make science fun.  I love it when you do your experiments. I wish school science could be like that.”

Serena’s face suddenly lit up, in the way it always did when she had had a brilliant idea.  The slave males standing patiently against the wall recognised the expression, knew its consequences and flinched in fear.

“What is it?” Alice asked with interest.  “Have you thought of a new experiment?”

Serena shook her head slowly, smiling.

“No.” she said.  “No, just maybe the beginnings of an idea.  Never mind – I’ll think a bit more and tell you about it when it’s ready.”

Alice tried to hide her disappointment, but as usual her friend could tell.

Serna leaned forward, smiling broadly.

“Tell you what” she remarked.  “Is that crap science teacher of yours still at the school?”

“No” Alice replied, shaking her head.  “He retired last year. I don’t know where he is now.”

“Shame” Serena said.  “Would you like to pretend one of these creatures here is him?  I’ve got a school cane.”

Boys can do science too!  Log onto Serena’s science web site, and follow the link marked test subjects.  This man above is a trained scientist. Of course, that’s not necessary for the experiment, but it’s nice to know, don’t you think?

Two months later, Alice was back in her friend’s living room, sipping a gin and tonic and admiring the view, as a young man writhed in agony on the wall in front of her.

The man she’d chosen to play-act her hated science teacher had been old and rather frail, so the ladies had had to go very easy on him.  Even so, he had lasted no more than six days, before the kindly fates granted him that blessed release from his agonies for which he had been begging since his first day in captivity.  So now, Serena was repeating exactly the same course of treatment, multiplied up, on a young, fitter man (who had once delivered a pizza to their door, 30 seconds later than had been promised, and had been regretting it ever since).  This was real science, Alice thought happily – every whiplash perfectly calibrated, and recorded for the edification of future generations.  She was so proud to have a proper scientist as her lover.

“Never mind him” Serena commanded, sweeping into the room.  “Look what I’ve got.”

She held up a memory stick.

“Oooh!” squealed Alice in excitement.  “Did you get the soul-catcher to work?”

This had been on Serena’s ‘to do’ list for ages.  Record men’s experiences in perfect detail onto a computer storage device (the technology for recording the more complex sensations and thoughts of the superior sex would not be ready for decades, but computers were finally becoming powerful enough to be as complex as simple life forms like worms, cockroaches and men).

The benefits that such a technology could bring the world were almost infinite.  Imagine if you could record a man being tortured to death, over the course of two days for example.  Sure, he’s suffered for two days but then what?  If you could record the experience – every burn, every shrieking nerve, every cut and bruise and finally fatal injury – then you could replay it, over and over again, inflicting multiples of the same agony on a subject who would survive the experience, only to face it from the very start all over again.  Imagine explaining to a slave on the torture table, that not only were you about to do this and then afterwards, when the screaming had abated, you would do that – but that his experience would be recorded and he could scream again for this and shriek in terror at the prospect of that – all at the touch of a replay button.

The soulcatcher, Alice thought, would surely win her lover the Nobel Prize that had always cruelly been denied her (by men she thought, viciously).

“Errr…no” Serena said.  “No, I’m still having trouble with that.  No, this is a video.”

“Oh” Alice replied, rather deflated.  “Good video?”

“It’s a wonderful video!” Serena replied excitedly.  “An educational video.”

“Oh” Alice said again.  “Educational.  How nice.”

“Science education!” Serena said, exasperated.  “You remember – we talked about it?  About how it’s all so boring and dry.  Well now it’s not.  I’ve made this!”

“Oh” Alice said, and realised she really ought to say something a bit more intelligent (although to be honest, her friend loved her precisely because she was a little dim by female standards.  So does the author, as without Alice’s constant questions, how would anything be explained?).

“So you’ve recorded some of your experiments – to show them what fun it can be?” and she nodded at the man writhing on the wall, who seemed to be about to lose his battle to hold himself up with his arms, with consequences that he knew full well would be horrifically painful.

“No, no” Serena said in irritation.  “That’s too advanced.  They wouldn’t be able to connect it to what they learn about. No – I’ve recorded a teaching video demonstrating ordinary school science experiments.  But my way.  Do you want to see?”

“OK” said Alice, doubtfully, and her friend loaded the software onto a laptop, which projected onto a big flat screen TV on the far side of the room, suspended from four tightly-bound slaves.

“What do you want first?” Serena asked happily – pointing at the menu.  “Chemistry?”

“S’pose so” Alice replied, moodily.  “Mr mind-if-I-bore-you-to-tears Greystoke, eat your heart out.”

“Right then” Serena said, with a smile, as if she had secrets even deeper than usual.  “Chemistry it is.  Here we go”

And she selected chemistry on the menu, and the video started.

The first scene was a close-up of a naked young man rather uncomfortably squashed up behind a glass screen.  But as the camera pulled back, Alice gasped as she realised that the glass was curved, and was in fact the side of an enormous test-tube.  The man was curled up in the bottom of it, and did not look too happy about it.

“So” Serena said, in a rather formal voice.  “Here we have a material, and we are about to test some of its properties through experiment.”

“Material?” Alice asked, perfectly in character even at this exciting bit of the story, when the author has to type fast.

“The boy” Serena replied absently.  “We’re going to investigate its properties.”

“OK” Alice smiled.  “So how do we do that?”

“Oh, lots of ways!” her friend laughed.  “Let’s start with some chemical reagents. She pressed a button.”

Serena herself now appeared on the screen, wearing a lab coat with safety goggles and carrying a clipboard.

“Acid reagents oxidise materials, and we can learn useful things about the properties of the material on which they act, by analysing the resulting gases” she said, in a sing-song voice, speaking rather woodenly to camera.

She pulled her goggles over her eyes, picked up a bucket marked “HNO3” and carefully climbed a ladder standing next to the giant test tube. While she did this a voice-over prattled on about the properties of acids, while information also scrolled confusingly across the bottom of the screen. The boy, it seemed, knew some basic science, because he was scrabbling frantically at the side of the test tube while this was going on, despairingly clawing at the smooth, high sides.

“and add the reagent to the material under study.” The voiceover concluded, and Serena carefully tipped the bucket of acid into the giant tube.

The two ladies watched in silence.

“Well.” Alice remarked, when all was quiet again and the test tube seemed only to contain a featureless sludge.  “That was very educational.”

“Really?” her friend asked eagerly, her face aglow.  “What did you learn.”

“Oh” Alice replied (for what was now the fourth time).

“Well, you know.  Acid, boys.  All that.” She gestured at the screen.  “They, erm, well they melt.  And it’s such fun as they do it! Oh and they burn at first.  Burn and melt.  Funny.”

Serena pursed her lips.  “Yes.  Well there was a bit more than that.  But I suppose it’s a start. Now, after this there’s a ten minute section in which we analyse the gases that were emitted when we reacted the acid with the boy and – “

She caught sight of her friend’s face, which had assumed a look of panic.

“ – but we’ll skip that bit for now, and go on to another experiment.” she concluded, weakly, and called the chemistry sub-menu back.

Over the next fifteen minutes, Alice learned all about the chemical properties of young men and how to investigate them.

  • How they reacted with alkalis
  • What happened if they were subjected to heat
  • The effects of removing oxygen, or of adding chlorine
  • Practical tips, such as how to grind them in a mortar and pestle, and the effects of keeping them under oil.

“Goodness” she said at the end of it all.  “I never knew chemistry could be so very interesting.  And I always thought they were made of slugs and snails and puppy-dog tails.”

“Yes, that’s just a myth” Serena replied absently, pointing at the latest sticky mess displayed on the screen.  “Complex hydrocarbons mostly.”

“But if you fed them only on slugs and snails – “ Alice began, and Serena – desperate to avoid what she thought might be a demonstration of appalling scientific ignorance by her friend – quickly switched to the physics lesson.

Alice found this even more interesting.  There were a lot of different kinds of physics, it seemed, and all of it could be demonstrated by experiments with boys.

Some of the sections introduced more than one physical principle at a time.  For example, one long segment dealt both with the effects of increasing weight, in a gravitational field, and also the tensile strength of various bits of a boy’s body.  Ultimately, gravity always won, and the segment concluded with a delightful little speculation on how much more weight you would need to attach to a boy’s delicate bits to overcome their tensile strength, on the moon.

“In space no one can hear you scream!” Alice giggled, but her friend, deep in thought, just replied absently “Yes, that’s a downside of conducting experiments off-planet, of course.”

Then there was a segment on electricity, with a particular focus on how well it was conducted across boys’ bodies, or bits of boys’ bodies.  Alice was actually already fairly familiar with most of this, but it was good to see it done in such a well-structured way, with steadily increasing voltages compared across different distances at which the electrodes were set, complex instruments measuring the current flow that could only be determined approximately from the intensity of the screams.

Then there were more physical experiments: what happens when a boy is accelerated to 70mph and then encounters a fixed object, different heights to which men could be propelled from the baskets of catapults, and an experiment to demonstrate that a heavy pendulum attached to a man’s testicles and set swinging would gradually trace out a circle over 24 hours (time-lapse photography was used here of course, as the boredom of watching the whole thing would be unbearable).

“And that’s how we know the world turns!” Serena said, triumphantly.

“All from a set of well-tugged balls” Alice breathed in wonder.  Her friend relaxed, as she could see that her educational materials were truly starting to engage someone she would readily admit to herself was rather a challenging first audience.

Now here’s a real scientist at work.  She’s been forcing other test subjects to drink various liquids (yucky stuff, you don’t want to know).  So for this test subject, she’s created a control – do you see? See the empty glass?  She is giving him nothing to drink at all, but she’s still going through all the same actions.  That way, if the boy made to drink donkey piss (for example) lives longer than this man who is given nothing at all to drink, she’s proved donkey piss-drinking is good for males.  Scientifically.

Alice’s favourite experiment was actually a classic.  Two men, one old and fat, one young and thin, stood on top of a tower, with Serena standing behind them, while the voiceover droned on about Galileo.  What happened next amazed her.

“But surely the fat one should have hit the ground first!” she protested.  “I mean, he’s heavier.”

“That’s a common misconception” Serena smiled.  “But look – you can disprove it yourself by simple experiment” and she nodded at the screen.

“I’ll have to try it”, Alice remarked, thoughtfully.  “Maybe we could use the multi-storey car park…Of course, we’d have to make sure somehow that both were pushed off at exactly the same time… and we’d have to decide whether it’s the first bit hitting or when the whole body has gone splat that counts as hitting the ground, so maybe…”

Serena basked in satisfaction. Her friend had not only understood gravity, but she’d learnt the much more important lesson – the scientific method.

“You see “ she murmured lovingly.  “It’s not just about learning stuff.  It’s about finding out.  Never take anything on trust.”

“But I trust that” Alice said, nodding at the screen.  “And I trust you” she added, looking adoringly at her friend.

“And that’s wonderful” Serena replied, giving her a little squeeze.  “But you see – everything I did there is reproducible, some of them with just ordinary household objects, so anyone can do the experiment at home, or in the classroom.”

“In mixed schools, they’ve even got the boys to try it out on!” Alice agreed.

“And the teachers” Serena said slyly – and pointed to the screen.

Alice looked and gasped with the shock of recognition.  There on screen, suspended by his wrists and twisting ineffectually, was her old science teacher, Mr Greystoke. His eyes looked pleadingly into the camera.

“Ooooh” she breathed.  “You found him.  Clever, clever you.  Is this going to be chemistry or physics?”

“Neither”, her friend laughed.  “This is part of the biology course.  See?”

And when she pressed the button, a door opened above Mr Greystoke’s head, and almost immediately, little dark shapes appeared, their antennae twitching as they sensed the food source ahead of them.  Slowly, like a dribble of treacle, a dark tongue of scuttling figures seemed to reach slowly down to Alice’s old teacher, who was screaming hysterically.

“It can take up to 24 hours for them to strip the body completely” Serena remarked.  “Shall we watch it on time lapse?”

“Well…” her friend replied slowly.  “I’m not in any hurry.  And I’m really interested in following this experiment carefully.  Shall we just…leave it on… in the background?”

“In the background?  While we do what?” smiled Serena back, gazing happily in to her eyes.

“Oh come here, you scientific genius you” Alice chuckled.  “I’m teaching this biology lesson.”

And as their lips met in a loving embrace, Alice glanced at the screen on the wall.  They’d just reached his eyes, she noticed, and feeling a surge of excitement she urgently reached out for the warmth and joy of her lover’s touch.

THE END
* For more Serena and Alice, see for example this (and the other two parts), or this, or even this for goodness’ sake. 

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? 

 

Femdom story: Something for the boys 2/3


The second chunk of a new Serena and Alice story, which I’ll publish in three chunks (it starts with part 3 below, because the parts I’m posting it in are not the same as the parts of the story and… and… oh it all made sense at the time).

This story gets quite heavy, particularly towards the end, with scenes of torture, non-consensual physical harm and even death done to (supposedly) humorous effect. 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.

 
 Serena
and Alice: Something for the boys 2/3
Part 3 – in which we struggle beyond halfway



Serena’s experimental subjects are all kept in carefully controlled conditions, to ensure that there are no distractions or environmental conditions that might affect the results of experiments.  Otherwise the science doesn’t work.

 

 “So that’s what happens when you mess with the hormones that
inhibit release of semen in day-to-day life” Serena remarked, once Experiment3564G
had left the room.  “No orgasms.  But what do you think happens if you do the
opposite, and close the tubes permanently?”

“Well, then no semen would ever be released, and…” Alice
began slowly.

Serena flicked open a mobile phone and stared briefly at the
screen.  “Actually, I’ll come back to
that a little later” she said.  “They
might be ready by then.”

“But there’s something almost as good”, she continued with
mounting enthusiasm.  “You’ve seen
continuous release. But what about a continuous orgasm? What if a man’s orgasm,
once started, just went on and on?”

“Well, that doesn’t sound cruel at all” Alice replied, in
disappointment.  “You’re not here to increase their sexual pleasure, after
all.”

Serena grinned wickedly. 
“Send in Experiment 7658H!” she called.

Soon a naked man stood shamefacedly before them, his wrists
handcuffed behind his back.  When he
glanced nervously up, Alice felt a sudden delighted shock of recognition.  It was someone she’d known at school –
called…oh, Carl?  Clive?  Colin! 
That was it.  This was Colin.  She’d quite liked Colin, she recalled.  How very enjoyable this was going to be.  There was always something rather special
about watching men that you knew suffer. 
And despite her misgivings about Serena’s promise of a ‘continuous orgasm’,
she thought it pretty likely that this one was going to suffer.  Serena had occasionally conducted experiments
that did not involve pain, humiliation and mutilation, but only when strictly
necessary in the interest of scientific progress.  And even then, generally she made sure the
subjects suffered in other ways. It was part of her dedication.

Colin caught Alice’s eye, and there was a sudden shock of
recognition.  Briefly, an expression of
wild, desperate hope started to spread across his face before Alice smiled
sweetly, gently shook her head and settled down with eyes half closed to watch
the fun.

Serena had noticed none of this, as she was busy pointing
out the altered features that Colin – or Experiment 7658H as he now was, and
would be forever – now possessed.

“You see, for too long I was investigating what causes
orgasms” she explained.  “But actually,
once they’ve started, orgasms would just keep going unless they receive a
chemical signal to stop.  So we suppress
that chemical signal.”

“Another little pill?” Alice asked.

Her friend shook her head, and pointed to a small red mark
on the side of the Experiment’s testicles. 
“There’s a gland in there.” she explained.  “We just drill in” – and at this point, Colin
looked a little faint, as if assailed by an unpleasant memory – “and then burn
it out.  Then we do the other side” and
Colin obediently turned to show an identical scar on the other side of his ball
sac.

“And then he can come continuously” Serena said. She looked
at her friend expectantly, but Alice sat in silence. She still thought it
sounded rather nice – once the testicle-drilling was out of the way, of course.

Serena clucked in exasperation.  “You’ll see” she said.  “Boy! 
When did you last come?”

“About seven weeks ago, Mistress.  38 days, actually.”

“So, back in May?” Serena prompted.

“Yes, if… err… if it’s late June or early July now,
Mistress.” Colin replied, uneasily.

“And have you been locked up since that date?” Serena
persisted.

The man shook his head. “No Mistress.  I’ve been like this.”

“And do you have a lot of distractions?” Serena continued?

“No Mistress” he replied, rather emphatically Alice
thought.  “I’m kept naked and alone in a
room with nothing but a mattress and a bucket which serves as my toilet and
feeding pail.”

“Then why don’t you masturbate?” Alice broke in, in
exasperation.  “All boys masturbate, if
they can. Those handcuffs are hardly going to stop you.  You could rub yourself up against a
wall.  Why don’t you?”

“Because he doesn’t want to” Serena said, slyly.  “Do you, boy?”

“Well he wants to now” her friend said, obstinately. “Look”

Sure enough, the man’s initial terror at being in Serena’s
presence seemed to have been overcome, because his penis was steadily firming
up – and very soon began to rise.

“Boing!” Serena said, triumphantly.  “Men – so predictable.  Come here boy.”

Experiment7658H shuffled forward, whimpering slightly, the
tears starting to form in the corners of his eyes.

“Poor thing” Serena said sympathetically.  “All that time, with no release.  Why look at it – it’s practically bursting!”
And that seemed to remind her of something, as she opened her phone again as if
to check something before turning back to the matter at hand.

“No, still got some time yet” she muttered to herself.  Then she turned her attention back to the
penis in front of her, which was now rigidly upright, and purple at the tip. 

“Gosh, so ready”
she whispered seductively.  “Mmmm.  So desperate to come. “ She unbuttoned her
blouse a little and Colin turned desperately to look at Alice who, realising
the game, gently drew her skirt up to expose her stocking tops.

“Do you know” Serena continued to coo.  “I really do think it’s ready to come.  Mmm. 
Any moment now. So if I just – “

–         
and she 
leaned forward until her face was nearly touching the engorged cock,
parted her lips slightly and –

–         
blew
hard, the sudden burst of air making the penis sway back and forth.  Colin groaned.

  “Maybe one more “
she murmured, and blew again, this time causing the head to tap gently against
the man’s quivering stomach.  This was
more than enough for Colin, and he instantly started to grunt violently, as his
penis jerked about uncontrollably.

“Here we go” giggled Serena, drawing back quickly, to avoid
being splattered (to Colin’s extreme good fortune, it must be said.  He thought his life in the featureless cell
was hellish, but it was as nothing compared to the life he would have led –
admittedly rather briefly – had a drop of his semen polluted Serena’s person or
clothes.).

Colin was now well into the throes of orgasm. “UH! UH!” he
was grunting, in the usual way in which males experiencing an orgasm betray
their close affinity to pigs and cattle.

“See the balls jerking about?” Serena pointed out.  “The muscles are contracting, squeezing
seminal fluid out from the sort of spongy stuff it’s stored in, up the tubes
and – well, all over the floor just for now.”

Alice nodded quietly, wondering once again how so many women
could stand to have that sort of thing going on inside them.  Vanilla sex. 
It made her flesh creep just thinking about it.

Then she realised that something was odd.  The grunting wasn’t dying away, but was
becoming louder, and a little more urgent.

“He’s been spurting for about 40 seconds now” Serena
remarked.  “Already quite a lot longer
than the average orgasm.  He’s expelled –
oh, maybe three or four times the usual amount. 
And he’s still going on, as you see.”

The man’s grunts were more like shrieks now, as his orgasm
continued into its second minute.  The
semen continued to come out, but simply emerging and flowing away to the side,
now, lacking the volume to become airborne. 
But still it kept on coming – and so did Colin.  His balls were pumping as hard as ever, and
now his legs gave way, and he collapsed to the floor, still shrieking, his
genitals still thrashing around as if being whipped.  And clearly, it was at least as painful as
being whipped too.

“As the testicles run dry” Serena remarked “as the last few
drops are squeezed” – and here she
smiled as , with perfect timing, a particularly strong contraction resulted In
the emergence of another drop, and a despairing howl from Colin – “from the
tissue, it really starts to hurt.”






Of course, to do science properly you need a lot of precision-made equipment.

 

Alice nodded.  “I
remember when I used to let David have more than one orgasm” she agreed.  “It gets really sore.  After a bit, he didn’t want any more.  Used to say it was like having someone
scraping a nail inside your balls and penis, when you’re coming but there’s
really nothing left.”

Her friend nodded back. “Yes, quite a lot of men say
that.  Actually, you know, I tested it
and it’s not true.  Having a nail
scraping along inside the testicles feels quite different” and she wiggled her
beautifully manicured crimson fingernails at Alice with a wicked grin.

“But I know what they mean. 
It really hurts.  Of course, it
depends how potent the man is to begin with, how long they’ll enjoy it.  This process here” – and she indicated the
writhing man before them – “is the equivalent of about six orgasms a minute.  So Colin here, who is now on about his fourth
minute, is nearly at the equivalent of his twentieth. And he wasn’t very potent
to begin with – strictly a once-a-night man.”

Alice gazed in fascination. 
Once-a-night indeed!  David was a
four times a year man.  It was amazing to
think that the man in front of her had just experienced more sexual activity
than David could expect in five years. 
Well – she checked her watch – more like six years now.

“How long does it last?” she asked.

“About thirty minutes” Serena replied quietly.  “Of course, there’s nothing left to pump
after five minutes or so.  But his balls
keep on trying.  On and on, squeezing and
jerking away. And then he’s sore for weeks afterwards, of course.”

“I’d never thought of multiple orgasms as being a
punishment” Alice said, in wonder.

Serena smiled at her. 
“They needn’t be, you know” she said softly, and held her arms out.  And the two girls giggled and shrieked their
way to their own form of continuous orgasm, while below them Experiment7658H
(“Colin”, Alice thought deliciously, now what was his second name?) screamed blue murder as he lay on the floor,
jerking uncontrollably in a pool of seven weeks of his own semen production, in
the hellish agony that was now his sexual life.

Ready to do some science.

 

Femdom story: Something for the boys 1/3

 

Linking to my older stories a few weeks back inspired me, so here is a new Serena and Alice story, which I’ll publish in three parts.  This story gets quite heavy, particularly towards the end, with scenes of torture, non-consensual physical harm and even death done to (supposedly) humorous effect. If you don’t like that, that’s absolutely fine, and you don’t have to read it.  It’s also a love story.

Don’t try any of this at home, by the way.  Use someone else’s place, as most of the activities are quite messy.

Serena and Alice: Something for the boys 1/3

Serena and Alice… aren’t they sweet?



“So what have you been up to lately – anything interesting?”
Alice asked happily.  She always looked
forward to her visits to her friend Serena’s laboratory, where so many men had
been subjected to… interesting… medical procedures.  All strictly in the cause of science, of
course.

“Oh”, Serena said casually. 
“Not much really.  I’ve been
working a bit on the male orgasm.  Trying
to improve the mechanism, you know.”

Alice felt slightly disappointed.  “Male orgasm? 
You?” she enquired.  “I thought
you didn’t really approve of males having orgasms.  You always used to say that the best place
for a man’s testicles is in your medical cabinet”

Her friend smiled, and glanced lovingly at the wall covered
in wooden drawers, where her world-famous collection was housed.  “True, but you have to work with what there
is.” she replied.  “There are still a lot
of men in the world who are uncastrated.” 
She looked sad for a moment, while Alice reminded herself for the
umpteenth time that she really must take David in to be done.  She hoped Serena wouldn’t ask after him, as
it was quite an embarrassment to her that he was still complete.  Fortunately, Serena very rarely showed any
signs of interest in specific, individual men.

“Yes… so as there are still men out there having orgasms, I
thought I might look into the subject” Serena continued.  “See if I could… you know… improve things a
bit.  It’s all rather complicated down
there, as it turns out.  Lots of
different muscles, hormones.  Lots of
stuff you can fiddle with.”

”Pain receptors too, of course” she added,
thoughtfully.  Both ladies nodded
wisely.  Both were big fans of the
concentration of pain receptors in the testicles.  Indeed, Serena had identified at least
seventeen different ways of castrating a male while leaving the full complement
of pain receptors in place – or even enhancing it.

“A male orgasm is surprisingly complex, for such simple
creatures” Serena continued.  “Of course,
in its effects it’s not as sophisticated as the female ecstasy.  Four or five little squirts and it’s
done.  But there’s a complex machinery of
hormones and chemicals, as there’s first an erection, then the testicles
prepare to spurt, while tubes constrict to hold it back, then the tubes dilate,
muscular action results in rapid excretion of the seminal fluid, and then the
erection dies down again.”

“And then he goes back in his tube for three months” Alice
thought, absently.

“Anyway” Serena continued, “a very complex mechanism.  So I just thought I’d mess around with it a
bit: take a few parts out, put them back in in a different place, see what
happens if you try to run it all backwards, that kind of thing.”

“So what does happen” asked Alice, breathlessly.  She was so proud to have such a clever
scientist for a friend.

“Well, mostly nothing.” Serena admitted.  “Generally, if you mess around with it, it
just stops working, in one way or another. All rather fun, of course,
especially the look on their little faces when you tell them it’ll never work
again.  But there’s lots of ways of doing
that, of course, as we both know.”

“Yes indeed”, Alice smiled, while furiously trying to
remember whether she was doing  anything
on Tuesday.  Maybe she could take David
to the clinic on Tuesday.

“But sometimes you can break things in a more amusing way”
Serena continued.  “Did you know, for
example, that men can excrete semen constantly?”

“Certainly” Alice replied rather primly.  “David used to masturbate constantly before
he met me.  I had his old house
steam-cleaned throughout when I decided he should sell it.  Goodness knows where he’d been spraying the
stuff.”

“No no” Serena remarked, kindly.  “I don’t mean masturbating frequently.  I mean constant release.  All the time.”

Her friend just looked puzzled, so Serena picked up a small
remote control by her chair and laughingly pressed a button.

Instantly one of the men standing quietly ready for service
behind them let out an agonized shriek and collapsed to the ground, his hands
clutching ineffectively at the metal device between his legs.  Alice looked over with interest to where the
man lay writhing and screaming in agony. 
Blood was seeping out from underneath the metal.  It was going to make quite a mess, but she
supposed that Serena had plenty of people who could clean it up.

“Sorry, wrong button” Serena muttered, and pressed another.
Another of the men staggered slightly as if shocked, and stepped smartly
forward.

“Alice and I would like to see Experiment 3564G” Serena
said, without looking at him. “Oh” she added, glancing behind and raising her
voice slightly to carry over the unceasing screams.  “And you’d better have that taken away and
cleaned up.”

“Maybe leave it for just a little while longer?” Alice
asked, with a slight note of urgency in her voice.

Serena looked over at her friend, who was sweating ever so
slightly and breathing heavily.

“Of course, darling” she said, leaning forward to kiss her,
her own hand reaching gently between her friend’s legs.  And the sounds of agony behind them mingled
with increasingly delighted girlish shrieks, as Alice demonstrated the
superiority of the female orgasm over any gender-inferior rivals.
 
The Government’s trying to encourage more girls to do science.  And they should.  It can be a lot of fun.
 

Part 2 – in which we
get on with the plot, for goodness sake

Fifteen minutes later, Experiment 3564G stood before two,
relaxed and happy ladies.  He was a
rather handsome young man, smartly dressed in a business suit and neatly
groomed.  Alice was a little
surprised.  Generally, when men took on
names beginning with the word “Experiment” in Serena’s domain, they soon barely
appeared, sounded or acted human at all.

“He looks pretty normal to me” she said, trying to keep a
note of disappointment out of her voice.

“Oh, he is normal” Serena agreed.  “He lives a fairly normal life – has a job,
drives a car.  Of course, it all belongs
to me.”

“Of course” Alice said, slightly shocked.  Neither lady believed that men should own
things.  As Alice had once remarked to
David, her vibrator didn’t have a bank account so why should he?

“Except that he’s secreting seminal fluid right now” Serena
continued, casually.

“Is he?  The dirty
little…” Alice began, reaching reflexively into her handbag for a whip.

“No no” her friend laughed. 
“Look closely.”

Alice leaned forward. 
There was a small damp patch on the man’s crotch.  Alice’s nose wrinkled.

“Well that’s even more disgusting” she began. “I mean, he’s
not even locked up and – ”

“Doesn’t need to be” her friend remarked, languidly.  Then she changed her tone quite
suddenly. 

“Drop your trousers!” she barked at the ‘Experiment’, who
hurriedly complied, looking nervous.  He
stood there, his genitals hanging down – still outwardly whole and (remarkably,
Alice thought) freely hanging without restraint, clamp or surgical suture.  A glistening thread of slime gently descended
from the tip of his penis towards the floor, before breaking and falling as a
tiny drop.

“Oh the filthy boy!” Alice exclaimed.  “Has he just come? Even David knows enough to
clean himself up after – “

And she broke off in embarrassment, for fear of giving away
her little secret about David’s continuing possession of his genitals.

But her friend was too absorbed to notice, and merely
laughed merrily.

“Not at all”, she replied. 
“Look”

Alice looked again, and saw another drop slowly forming, and
eventually start its slow descent to the floor at the head of a glistening
thread.

Serena and Alice… saving the world, one boy at a time.
“Yuk” she pronounced. 
“When’s it going to stop?”

“It isn’t” Serena remarked quietly.

Alice looked puzzled. 
“What – not ever?”

“Not ever” her friend replied, with pride. “He just
oozes.  All the time.”

“Does he enjoy it?”

“No” Serena shrugged. 
“Not particularly.  It doesn’t
feel like anything, I think.  It just
oozes.  Of course, his cock and balls
feel a bit tender.  You know that feeling
that men have when they’ve just had a really big orgasm?”

Alice nodded.  She
loved giving David’s balls a good hard kicking after he’d had finished – and as
his orgasms were so infrequent, they were usually pretty huge.  And then there was the penis whip…maybe she’d
keep him intact just a little longer, it could be such fun.

“Well he feels like that all the time” Serena said, happily.
“Quite sensitive down there, aren’t you?” she called out, and the man – with a
frightened glance towards her knees – hurriedly agreed.

“How do you it?” Alice asked.

Serena smiled.  “Oh,
it’s nothing. Anyone could do it.  Oh –
as long as she’s an evil medical genius, obviously!”

She paused.  There was
silence.  In irritation, she reached for
the remote control and savagely stabbed a button.  After a sharp intake of several breaths from
around the room, all of the men in attendance began laughing hysterically and
clapping in delight at the joke.

Serena nodded graciously. 
“Enough” she said quietly, and the rapturous applause ceased.

“It’s the tubes from the testicles to the penis” she
explained.  “If you dose a man up with
the right combination of hormones, you can keep them permanently dilated.  The stuff just leaks out, without any
erection or muscular contraction at all. 
And it’s just a little pill. 
Serena’s special dilation hormone formula.  No more orgasms.”

“Just a sticky mess” Alice agreed, looking in some dismay at
the spreading stain on the carpet. Perhaps that could be removed when the blood
from the earlier accidental castration was cleaned up, she thought.  She liked to have things neat and tidy.

“Horrible” Serena agreed. 
“But fortunately, Serena Enterprises has the solution.”

She reached for a plastic pack beside her.  “Sanitary towels for men!” she announced
triumphantly.  “A bit like the
traditional ladies’ ones, but more of a triangular shape, and curved. Oh – and
about five times the price.”

“Is that because they’re so much harder to manufacture?”
Alice enquired.

“No – just because I have the patent and no one else can
make them” Serena grinned.  “I have half
of a giant factory complex just outside Birmingham retooling to turn these out
by the million.”

“And the other half is making…?” Alice prompted, suspecting
she already knew the answer.

“Serena’s special dilation hormone formula, to pump into the
water supply.” her friend replied, happily. 
“If I can’t have an entirely captive market, I can at least have a
desperate one.”

Alice was again struck not only by her friend’s scientific
brilliance, but her commercial acumen too. 
‘Why couldn’t David think of ideas like that?’, she thought with
irritation, and resolved to whip him a lot harder in future.
 
Part 2 next week. (here!)
 



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: Chopped and changed

Image of sexy masked nurse
“So what did you do?” asked Alice with interest, staring at the uncomfortable man in front of her.
Serena giggled.
“Oh” she said modestly, “just a little intra-body transplant.  Any incredibly highly-skilled surgeon could do it, if only they had the imaginative genius.”
She gently lifted his skirt.  Between his legs lay something small, and thin…and dark pink and quite moist.  As Alice watched in fascination, it curled its tip up and out towards her.
It was a tongue.
“May I?” breathed Alice, gesturing towards the displaced organ.
“Be my guest”, smiled her friend.
Alice slowly reached forward and touched the tongue.  It was wet, muscular and soft like any tongue.
“He’ll lick your hand if you tell him to” Serena advised.
Alice laughed delightedly as her hand was gently licked, like a loving puppy dog, by the little member wagging so obediently between Serena’s slave’s legs.
“So you took his penis off and replaced it with a tongue?” she said in wonderment.
Serena nodded.
“It’s his own tongue.” she said.  “All the muscles are attached as before.  Just…down there instead of in his throat.  It’s fully functional”
“You mean he can talk?” Alice asked, puzzled.
“Well, no” her friend admitted.  “We would need to combine the tongue with all the other bits for that, and those are still in his throat.  I mean it’s fully functional for oral sex – better, if anything, as it can curl right from the base now it’s not confined in his throat.”
“And you can have oral sex in the missionary position” mused Alice.  “I’m not sure I’d like that.  I enjoy having them kneel before me for sex.”
Her friend laughed out loud.
“Oh, you can still do that too!  Just in a different way.  In fact, I’m surprised he’s managed to keep his mouth closed all this time, with two attractive women standing before him like this.”
Alice looked closely and saw she was right.  The slave’s lips were bulging outwards as if something inside were swelling to push past.
“Down on your knees, and show Miss Alice what you can do.” Serena instructed quietly.
Epilogue
On the way home, in the taxi, Alice thought about what she had seen, and the offer that Serena had made.  She loved her husband, David, but it was true that he could be…improved.  In the Mistress/slave contract that they had signed, Alice had committed not to remove any part of his body without his free consent, a condition that David – who had a visceral fear of castration – had insisted on.  Alice, who loved the feeling of his cock inside her, had happily agreed, without a moment’s hesitation, telling him that she could never bear to have it removed.
“But the agreement doesn’t say things can’t be moved about a bit” she thought to herself happily, stroking the little vial of liquid her friend had given her to put into her husband’s drink.
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