A Most Contagious Fantasy

By DX

Copyrighted Sept 2000, June 2024, all rights reserved.

 Spheres of golden oranges, glinting in the bright, white electric light caught her eye, and at that moment she decided to buy them.  She could see in her mind the gleaming, sweet, yet tart juice in a tall narrow glass, absorbing the morning rays of the sun, standing guard over her husband's breakfast.

 Delicious.

 She knew it would be, although she would never taste it.

 Automatic mist hoses sprinkled the broad, emerald green leaves of the Chinese cabbage, showering them with diamonds.  The apples where piled high, like a bubbling mountain of blood. 

 She blinked to stop the images.  She was staring again, lost in the brilliant colors of the fresh produce.  She did that more and more since her sight was the only sense

left to her.

 Her hands, now thumbless mittens, carefully selected her oranges.  She had to hold each orange with both hands and carefully drop them into the clingy plastic bag. 

 Although her skin was a shinny, translucent latex, it was hard to grip the fat round oranges.  

 From the corner of her eye she could see the grocer watching her.  Such a sweet man, always on hand to help if need be.  He was drawn to her because of her erotic air of helplessness.  

 She was very helpless, and that empowered her.

 She pushed her cart along to the check out.  Her ballet shoes clicked sharply on the shinny tile.  She had dangerous legs.  The kind that could cause a pile up on the highway from drivers, male and female alike, turning to look at them.  Perched high above them was her magnificent ass, cheeked just right to beg for a hard hand to slap. 

 Her waist, pinched to almost nothing, made every woman draw a sharp breath from a sympathetic gasp.  Her bosom was heaving, jutting out of her chest, defying the law of gravity.  All of this was covered over with the tiniest of sun dresses.  The dress barely concealed the steel corset that wrapped her body, or the breast covers that locked away her nipples, or the chastity that secured her sex forever.  What they could see was the massive gag that sealed away her mouth and the plugs that took away sound and smell.  They could see the tall, stiff collar that held her head regally erect.  Her hair was gone, save for a plume of glowing amber that came from the back of her head and her eyebrows and her long, long eye lashes.  Her ankles and wrists were shackled to add that much more to her prison.

 She was a chastised woman.  Infected by a runaway fantasy that her husband had; a fantasy he never thought would be.  She now lived to the extreme and she found herself continually adding to her plight, her helplessness.  To her delight and despair, she had now reached the point were she could no longer add to her body and still function.

 At the check out, she watched the girl ring up her groceries.  She had a sweet, pleasant face and a quick smile.  Her eyes were wide and wondrous as they stole glances at the strange customer, trying not to stare.

 It had been a few years ago when she first found the Chasti-Permalock corporation and locked herself up before she had the courage to venture out of the house.  She got strange, long and open stares from the neighborhood.  She only held her head proudly, and not just because of the stiff, high neck collar, and went about her daily business.  

 Now, at the register, there was an inquisitive girl whose stares were of wonder. 

 Her name tag read: Rebecca.

 "What's it like?"  The girl asked in hushed whisper.

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Copyrighted Sept 2000, June 2024, all rights reserved.
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Chastity Experiment

By DX

Copyrighted 7/2019, 12/2022 all rights reserved.

Sanford Oaks receives an offer to wear a chastity device for one week to receive 50 pounds UK.  How easy is that?
Hand-jobs, sex and debauchery!  A 16K novella!

 He bent down the blades of the blinds and peered out along the rain swept street.  He imagined her stepping around the corner, her sharp heels clicking hollowly, clacking on the pavement.  She would be wearing her black, shiny mac, and it would be beaded with raindrops.  She would be wearing her clear plastic rain cap over her glistening black hair.  Beneath the hem of her mac would be her latex clad legs, moving quickly.  She would be pulling a black suitcase wheeling behind on quiet castors.

 She was late.

 She had never been late.  He could set his watch by her.  Since the program’s inception she would step around the corner at precisely 1359hrs and ring his bell at the moment of 1400hrs.  It had become the pattern he expected.

It was now the pattern his life depended on.

He looked away from the window.  He paced back and forth in his tiny front room, and then sat in his comfy chair.  He looked at the clock on the wall.  She was late.  He looked at his wristwatch to confirm the clock on the wall was correct.  He then got up and walked into the kitchen to look at the clock over the sink to confirm his wristwatch.

 1428hrs.  She was late by twenty-eight minutes.  On the scale of things this wasn’t much of a deal and easily explained.  The subway was late, the bus was late, another client held her up, her cat was sick, (if she had a cat and it was sick) would make a perfect, forgivable excuse for being late one time.

 In the quiet of the kitchen he could hear the battery-powered tick of the clock as the big hand neared 1429hrs and he became aware he had been sub-consciously touching the device through the fabric of his trousers.

 He pulled his hand away quickly and walked into the front room and looked down the street through the gap in the blinds.  He needed her.  He needed her to remove the device.  He had decided definitively it would be the last time.  If they offered him a million pounds to wear the device for another second he would resolutely state, no.  He practiced saying it, so it would be a quick, knee-jerk response.

“Would you like to wear the device for another second for a million…”  

“NO!”  He wouldn’t even let her finish.  “Just unlock it, give me my fifty-thousand pounds and have a good day.”

 The clock on the wall read 1430hrs.

 He pulled his hand away from the device.  Touching it did nothing and he could do nothing about his cock crushed within its confines.  It was the perfect chastity device.  He could not get erect, he could not orgasm.  It was the pinnacle of design, far removed from the first device they had him wear at the start of the program nearly two years ago.

 It began with a simple letter in the post.

 Buried with the bills and adverts was a plain white envelope with his name neatly written on it.  Initially he tossed it aside figuring it was an advert, but its simplicity called back his attention.  For starters, they spelled his name correctly, Sanford Oaks.

 “Dear, Sanford;” it began.  “We are currently conducting an experiment which based on your profile would make you a suitable subject.  You will be paid for your time.  If interested, please return the self-addressed, pre-paid postcard.”

 Sanford checked the return address.  It was foreign, probably Norway or Scandinavia or some such place, but they used the magic words, ‘paid for your time’.  Sanford considered himself a man of intricate complexities.  He was in his fifties, owned his house (inherited), and was collecting disability.  He had a long résumé of random jobs; building crack monitor, caviar extractor, drying paint supervisor, to name a few, but his last job, a level one inventory resupply specialist, had left him, as the doctors described, nervous and unable to work.

 He did supplement his income with random, unlisted jobs.  This income was never reported to the taxman, a villain if ever there was one, and kept him in beer and chips.  Sanford was always on the prowl for a few easy quid.

 Within a week of posting his reply, he received another letter in the same, plain, boring style.

 “Our experiment is to study male sexuality.”  The letter explained.  “To eliminate random factors, we need a chaste subject as a control.  To achieve this, we would first need to create a safe, gentle chastity device for long-term wear.  If you agree to wear our prototype for seven days you will be paid fifty pounds UK.  If you manage to escape the device, without damaging the device or injuring yourself, you will be paid an additional fifty pounds.”

 Sanford mused.  ‘Fifty quid for seven days of not touching me John Thomas?  How easy is that?’  He thought.  ‘And another fifty if my willie gets whiley?  Well!  A hundred pounds for a week’s worth of nothing?  Yes, please mister man!’

 As he checked off the card, he thought about how many times he self alleviated his male urges.  He casually went weeks without even bathing, let alone diddling himself.  This, he thought, was easy money.

 Only a few days later a post arrived announcing the device would be delivered in a few days.  It would arrive at 1400hrs.  “Please make every effort to be available to receive the device.”

 He glanced at his calendar.  He was available.

 It was a Thursday.

 He expected a lorry.  What arrived was quite unexpected.

 Her dimples sank into her cheeks and her smile was blinding.  “Good afternoon!”  She said.  “Sanford Oaks?”

 He nodded, numbly.  Her eyes were chocolate morsels, her nose crinkled when she talked, and her lips were soft and welcoming.  She was a delight!  Curvy, and nicely packaged in her blue nurse’s uniform.

 “I’m Madeline, I’m here to install the device.”  Her eyes flashed like a co-conspirator, almost winking as she said the word, device.  When Sanford didn’t respond, she went on.  “May I come in?”

 “Oh, yes!”  Sanford exclaimed, realizing he had been staring.  “Please, forgive me.  I was expecting the postman, yeah?”  He stepped back and ushered her in.

 She walked in, dragging her case behind as her eyes evaluated the house.  “This is excellent.”  She said turning towards him.  “Is there anyone else in the residence?”

 Sanford was lost in the depth of her dimples.  “Uh, no.”  He replied.

 She talked while smiling.  “Excellent.  Then we can do this here in the front room.”

 “Do what?”

 “Apply the device.”  She said simply.  As Sanford continued to stare, she went on.  “No worries, I am a certified professional.”  She reached into her purse and pulled out a flat, black wallet.  With a flick of her wrist a fan of cards draped out like a broken accordion.  “Please take a look.”  Her face tinged with bashfulness.  “I’m quite proud of them.”

 Sanford forced his eyes to look away from her pretty face to the list of cards hanging like a banner from her hand.  She was pointing out her accreditations and he was struggling not to watch her.  She wasn’t the prettiest girl, nor did she have the biggest boobs or curviest bum, but she was such combination of everything, her voice, her charm, her poise, her smile as it lit up the gloomy room, it was hard not to drink in her intoxicating image.

 “If you would pop in the shower and come back with a towel covering up, I’ll get set up here.”  She finished.

 Sanford scrubbed himself red in the fleeting moments he was in the shower.  When he returned, Madeline had donned a black rubber apron and had laid out a collection of documents across his coffee table.  “Please, have a seat and read these carefully.  I only ask you to keep them in order.”

 He sat on the sofa and watched her.

 Madeline had moved some of the furniture to make room for her set up.  She set her case on the floor and clicked it open.  Reaching in she grabbed the top strut of a skeletal structure and with a pull it began to unfold.  It moved on hinges and formed a stout chair.  She gave it a final pull and all the joints clicked into place solidly.

 She looked at him.  “Any questions?”

 Sanford had barely glanced at the paperwork.  “To be clear,” he surmised.  “I just have to put on a device,”  he wavered, “on my, privates, yeah?  For one week, right?  And I get fifty quid.”

 She shrugged while nodding.  “No and yes.  I put the device on you, and then you wear it for one week and get fifty quid.  If you get out of the device, without injury, you get another fifty quid.”

 He stammered.  “You put the, uh, device…”

 She smiled, brightening the room.  “I am a certified professional.  While everyone is a unique individual, I’m confident I have a good idea what’s under that towel.”  She gave her chair a pat.  “If you are satisfied with the paperwork and initialed and signed the highlighted parts, we’ll get started.”

 Sanford signed, scribbled, and scrawled.

 Tentatively, he took a seat in her chair as she donned gloves, a surgical mask and a white cap, leaving only her milk chocolate eyes visible to him.  With that done, she placed his feet into stirrups and secured his legs down with nylon straps of hook and loop material.  He tensed as she did the same with his arms, strapping them down to the chair.  His face of rising panic was soothed with a glance from her smiling eyes.

 “We must insure the control is free of variables.”  She said, patting his hand.  “You’ll have plenty of time to explore the device later.”  Madeline took a packet from her bag, ripped it open, and pulled out a sanitized mouth guard.  “Open up!”  She said, holding it to his mouth.

 “Wraugh gru?”  He mumbled as she stuffed the device in his mouth.

 “Again, variable control.”  She pulled a strap from her pocket and encircled Sanford’s head with it, ignoring his eyes of alarm, and sealed the mouth guard in place.  Running her hand smoothly along the side of his head, she checked for fit.  “Are you having any discomfort?”

 Sanford shifted in the chair.  He couldn’t speak.  He could barely move a muscle.  Glancing up, he fell into her eyes as she looked for any indicators of distress.

 “Alright then.”  She said.  “Let’s get started, shall we?”

 Gently, she pulled his towel away.

 A cool breeze brushed against his skin and Sanford tried to look away as his cock began to stir.

 Madeline was changing her gloves.  “That is a perfectly normal response.”  She said.  “Please do not be embarrassed.”  She draped a sterile sheet over him and threaded his manhood through a slit in the center.  “You are already showing healthy signs.”  She kicked at something beneath the chair and Sanford realized it was an attached, collapsible stool.  With her hands in the air, she sat down and made herself comfortable.

 Her eyes of chocolate birthday cake peered at him.  She took his blood pressure, pulse, and listened to his heart.  She then placed a sensor over his finger.  She noted his vitals, then changed her gloves.  “I will now start my examination.  During this time, many men experience an erection.  That is perfectly normal and somewhat expected.  This will take a few minutes so sit back and relax.”

 As she donned her safety glasses, he could see his ghostly reflection in her eyes.

 Her fingers skirted across his cock like the sweep a feather.

 Sensations rolled over him like an ocean wave as her gentle touch slid across his tender skin.  She cooed and ah’d, congratulating him on blood flow, size and girth.  He risked a glance at her and watched her eyes peer down at the task at hand.  Instantly he was like a rock, harder than he had ever been before.

 She rolled her fingers across the head of his cock and her fingers moved as if she played a wind instrument in an orchestra.  Gently she cupped him.  Gently her touch slithered up and down his shaft.  Gently she explored every millimeter of his genitals.  

 Gently, gently, gently.

 “It is perfectly normal,”  she went on, professionally, “to extrude pre-seminal fluid.”  She paused.  “Ah, here we are.”  Her finger dragged the clear tear around the head of his cock.  “Excellent.”  She stopped and sat back.  

 Sanford was afraid the exam was over.  He quickly thought, ‘Ah, so this is the scam!  I knew it was too easy!  Get me all worked up, cut me off and charge for a finish.’  He squirmed in his chair.  ‘and I’m trapped good, right where she wants me.  A fool I am, blundering into this trap!”

 Madeline, ignorant of his rising panic, took a cotton swab and captured a sample of his fluid and set it in a plastic test tube.  This process involved changing her gloves several times.

 With the tube sealed and properly stored, she changed gloves.  Then she pulled open a small packet and squeezed out a dollop of goo in her gloved hand.  “For the next part of this examination I will be using a sterilized lubricant.  While I tactilely survey your penis, it is quite normal to become aroused.  Many men ejaculate.  This is a normal and natural response.  Please do not feel embarrassed or feel you need to restrain yourself, alright?”

 Her hands were like silk as her fingers roved over every millimeter of his cock.

 Already primed from the first part of his exam, Sanford grunted as his eyes rolled back.  In seconds he went off like machine gun.

 “Excellent!”  Madeline exclaimed.  She busied herself using a fresh cotton swab to collect a sample of his seamen.

 Changing her gloves again, she took a warm, moist cloth and thoroughly cleaned him.

 Finally, after another glove change, she secured the device onto his manhood.

 She rose and quickly went through a well-rehearsed and methodical removal of her hat, apron, mask and gloves, and disposed of everything into a sterile bag before un-doing his restraints.  “I hope that wasn’t too distressful for you.”  She said, her dimples deepening.

 “Nuh, nuh, no.”  He said, nervously, his head swimming.

 “Next week this time?”  She asked, helping him out of the chair.

 Sanford was weak in the knees.  As Madeline pulled the sensor off his finger and helped him over to the couch, he peered at her confusedly.  “Next week?”

 She draped his towel over his lap.  “Yes, to remove the device.”

 “Oh, yes.”  He blinked, his senses returning.  “I’m a little winded.  That was a heck of a, uh, um, examination, yeah?”

 She shrugged.  “Many men enjoy it.  When I remove the device there will be a similar exam.”

 “Similar?”  Sanford exclaimed in disbelief.  “I don’t think I could manage that!”

 She smiled warmly.  “I’m certain you’ll be up for the challenge.”

 “What if I escape the device?  Will there be another, uh, exam?”

 Madeline nodded.  “Certainly.  Also another fifty quid.”

 Sanford could not believe what she was saying.  “Yeah, next week then.”

 She nodded as she turned to her equipment, and in moments everything was neatly folded back into her case and the furniture was properly arranged.  She surveyed the room, making sure everything was in order.  “Until next week then.”  She said brightly.  “I’ll see myself out.”

 And she was gone.

 Sanford was still reeling from the exam.  He sat on the couch until the clock chimed and nudged him out of his reverie.  Reliving the moment, he peered back in time and watched it again, this time floating out-of-body.  He watched her fingers filled with lightning rove around and touch all the spots of his cock, driving him mad.

 Although he was satiated enough to keep him for months without even thinking of his cock, he felt his member stir.

 He peered under the towel.

 The device was black.  It was sleek and shiny.  It encompassed his penis and clamped around his scrotum almost as an after thought.  He nudged it slightly, then tapped the surface with his fingernail.  He couldn’t decide if it was metal or plastic.  While it looked impressive, he couldn’t figure out what held it on.

 He tried the simplest and went to pull it straight off.

 It didn’t budge.

 It didn’t seem to pull on anything and he couldn’t imagine how it was anchored in place, but it certainly worked.

 He never realized how often he swelled and shifted until he had no access to his cock.  Often his Johnson tested the confines of the device, like a jungle cat pacing back and forth in the cage at the zoo.  Although the device was like wearing nothing, he was constantly reminded of it.  Thinking about it made his pecker grow.  His growing pecker would then be thoroughly restrained by the device.  Being restrained made him fidget with the device.  Fidgeting made him think about it.  Thinking made him grow.

 He was out of the device on the third day.  He had been distracted as he checked for lottery winnings while reading an article on how to win the lottery and not pay any tax, while subconsciously fumbling with the device, as he increasingly did.  

 It simply came off.

 He looked at it curiously.  No lock, no mechanism, it seemed to have be held on by nothing more than force of will.  He set it down and went into the toilet for a celebratory piss while standing.  He had never realized what a privilege it was to pee while standing.  It was a surprising revelation, one that really struck him while at the pub.  The device had forced him to sit to pee and the loo at the pub wasn’t the most hygienic place.

 With his tinkle done, he jiggled, then jiggled again, then closed the seat on the toilet.  He sat, closed his eyes and had a nice, meditative moment of self-gratification while thinking of Madeline.

 It had only been three days yet he spewed readily and heavily.

 Thursday at 1400hrs precisely he opened the door.  Madeline was there, mildly startled as she hadn’t even rang the bell.  Sanford presented the device.  “Good for you!”  She exclaimed.  “There’s another fifty pounds for you!  Perhaps, however, you’d want to do this inside?”

 “Oh, yes of course.”  He stepped back, bidding her entry.  “Would you like a hand?”

 “No, I can manage.  Why don’t you pop into the shower while I get set up?”

 “I just showered for you already.”

 “That won’t do, I’m afraid.  Rules are you have to shower while I’m here.  Make a quick rinse off for me?  There’s a good lad.”

 Sanford sprang up and back within moments, a towel around his waist.  Madeline sat on the couch and laid out her paperwork.  “Here is your gift card for fifty pounds.”  She held it up.  “You’ll get another one in the post once the paperwork is processed.”

 He watched her.  The afternoon sun shone in sharp lines through the blinds and brought everything it touched into high resolution; the curve of her cheek, the corner of her lip, the sphere of her breast.  She moved with precision and practice.

 Her brown eyes sparkled in the sun as she looked up at him.  “Read these over, alright?”

 “You changed your hair.”  He said, dreamily.

 She nodded.  “You’re the first one to notice.”  She reached up and pat her hair.  “It’s a wig.  To eliminate variables we all have to be brunettes now.”  She shifted over on the couch so he could sit and sign the paperwork.

 He joined her.  “How many others?  Nurses, I mean.”

 “We’re called technicians.”  She said, thinking.  “I don’t know how many they are.  The whole thing is done on-line; training, paperwork, the whole lot.  I’ve actually not met another person in the company.  I just get my assignments, install the devices and post the paperwork.  All the signatures have to be hard copies.”  She stood up and brushed the creases from her uniform.  “I’ll get set up while you have a read.”

 He glanced at it.  “Um, taxes, yeah?  How is it reported?”

 She pointed to a form.  “Here, you’ll see how that’s done.  You have to submit this income separately and you are responsible for all the taxes.”

 He nodded and grinned as she turned to pull her chair from her magic bag.  He then read the form.  In short, the taxman didn’t know.  ‘and what the taxman doesn’t know,’  Sanford thought. ‘won’t hurt him.’  He turned over a page and noted it was printed in several languages.  Obviously it was a foreign company and the experiment was being held in different countries.  The burden of dealing with different governments and tax rates would be challenging, so to skirt the issues they relied on the honesty of the test subject.

 This all translated to Sanford as simply, tax-free income.

 His eye caught numbers on the last page.  “What’s this, Madeline?”  He asked.

 She had set up her chair and was busy donning her black latex cap and latex smock.  “They’re offering you one hundred pounds to continue the program.  Two weeks.”

 “And if I escape the device?”

 She pulled on gloves.  “Without damage to the device or injury to yourself, one hundred pounds.  If you damage the device and get out, you’ll get fifty pounds.  If you injure yourself, there is no bonus.”  She patted the chair seat.  “If you just sign the other paperwork we can get started.  Once the exam is over, you can decide if you want to sign up for the two week program.”

 Sanford signed everything.

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Masochist Hell

By DX

Boring Howard awakes in a strange hospital.  He is restrained to a gurney, and his nurses are rubber clad sex dolls.  His surgeon, Doctor Lovejoy, armed with sinister torture devices, informs him she’s going to remove all of his organs while he watches helplessly!

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Copyrighted 1/2023, 5/2023, all rights reserved.

Howard Smith was a wholly unremarkable man.  

He owned his own business of manufacturing precision pumps used in the medical field.  He was kind to his workers, generous with salaries, benefits, and time off.  He attended church three Sunday’s out of the month, and worked in the soup kitchen every Wednesday.  He was philanthropic, and donated medical supplies not covered by insurance to the poor.  He was methodical and meticulous in everything he did and lived his life like clockwork.  

He was a boring, uninspiring man.  

He had no hobbies, no pets, and was single.  He was average height, had average looks, and wore brown everyday of the year with the exceptions being St. Patrick’s Day when he wore a green tie and an orange vest, and Chinese New Year, when he wore red socks.

The last Friday of every month, Howard released his workers at noon with a full day’s pay.

Sitting at his desk, he smiled and nodded as they walked past the open door of his office and wished them all a good weekend.  Once the building was empty and he was all alone, he would sit in the quiet and listen to the annoying hum of the fluorescent lights as excitement slowly began to build within him.

On the last Friday of every month, Howard did something rather interesting, something that no one knew, something that no one ever imagined.

Howard was a masochist.

Not the furry flogger and plastic toy handcuff kind of masochist, but a real torture dumpster.  If he wasn’t bleeding, it wasn’t foreplay.  He once traveled all the way to Africa to have sharp hooks driven through his pectoral muscles and suspended from a tree for three days of ‘Spiritual Cleansing’.  He even paid the shaman extra to sneak by at night and whip his dangling calves with thorny branches to aid in purifying his spirit.

Finding a lover willing to dish out that level of punishment was impossible because deep down, Howard was a very likable guy.  They would try however, and stripe his back with a knotted nine-tails, but often it quickly became a miserable affair with Howard having to comfort a crying, guilt-ridden girlfriend.

He had tried to be normal, but in truth Howard could not achieve an erection, let alone an orgasm, without the burning lash of a crop across his skin, or a crack of a nightstick across his shins.

Now a successful businessman, Howard found and eventually trained a Dominatrix who was a sadist enough to mete out the damage he needed without putting him in the hospital more than a few times a year.

On the last Friday of the month Howard walked down to her studio to arrive precisely at 2:00 pm.  If he were late, she wouldn’t see him, and if he were early, she wouldn’t see him, leaving him to endure a month without his pain fix.   Since she was paid either way, it was well worth his while to be prompt.

Once in, he would strip naked, neatly fold all of his clothes and place them in a locked trunk.  He would then kneel before her and wait.  Sometimes he waited a minute, and sometimes he waited hours.  He would wait on his knees with slow building agony pressed onto the unyielding cement floor until she was ready for him.

And the mayhem would begin.

Whipping and burnings, locked into tiny spaces, strung up and strung out, a vast array of savagery and titillating torments was inflicted on him.  One time, she did nothing, only leaving him kneeling on the hard floor for three days, his head down, listening to the click of her heels walking around him.  He was given no food.  He was only allowed her piss that he could lick from the floor as his sustenance.

Delightful.

Usually she released him on Sunday, but he would be in no condition to make it to church.

On occasion she would hold on to him into Monday, only allowing him a quick call out at work before laying into him again.

Now, on his special day, Howard glanced up at the clock.  He powered down his computer, clicked off the lights, set the alarms, and locked the door.

He walked leisurely, having plenty of time, while all around him, a city moved.  Couples walked hand in hand, messengers rushed around, a professional dog walker moved past him like a roman chariot pulled by a cadre of mutts. 

Howard noticed none of this.  He simply walked, his pace quickening, and a smile deeply entrenched on his face.

He was a very, happy man.

At the corner, he pressed the button for the pedestrian crossing.  He could just about see her building up the street in the distance, grey and imposing, tucked into the shade of heavy trees.

The light turned green and, just in case Howard spontaneously went blind, the sign ordered him persistently and repeatedly, “Walk now.”

He stepped out into the black and white stripes of the crosswalk.

And fell into them.

Wrecked piano keys flashed around him as he plummeted into darkness.  He screamed as he fell and fell, but could only hear the sound of squealing tires before he plunged into oblivion.

When he awoke he was mildly startled to find he was in a room and laying flat in a bed.  He first noticed the lights were mounted on the walls and aimed to reflect off the ceiling for a gentle, subdued glow.  There were three walls, one with a wide wooden door.  Where the forth wall should have been there was a curtain that ran from ceiling to floor and wall to wall.

Everything was absolutely silent.

In the corner of his eye he spotted a stand and from its top a glass bottle hung upside down.   A rubber hose lead down from its mouth and then under the covers of his blankets.

This was exactly the sort of set up Howard knew all about, and precisely what a hospital room did not look like in the modern age.  Craning his head up, he could see the porcelain white enamel bars of the footboard of his bed.  He could only imagine the bed was adjusted by hand cranks.

Confounded, he tried to sit up but something held him down.

Before he could piece anything together, there was a soft rap at the door followed by a nurse peeking in.

“Mr. Smith?”  She called as she slipped quietly in.

Her welcoming face was bright in the dim room, and her eyes, semi-sweet chocolate brown, sparkled when she smiled.  “Oh, good, you’re finally awake.”  Her voice was gentle, like distant laughter.  “You’re alright now.  Please relax.  You’ve been in an accident but everything is going to be okay.  We got to you in time.”

She pulled down the side gate and sat on the bed beside him.  She touched his shoulder gently and gave him a smile.  “You had a bit of a fit, pulling at your intravenous, so we had to restrain you, but seeing as you’re awake I’ll ask the doctor if we can get those off you.”

As she talked, Howard could not help but watch her soft, pushing lips and a nearly non-existent nose.

Pulling back the blanket, she took his wrist to check his pulse and consulted the watch pinned to her tunic.  It was as if she stepped out of the year 1950; starched white uniform, mid-thigh skirt, white stockings and white clunky shoes.  She even wore a nursing cap, a band of white starched fabric, pinned to her hair.

“Shhh, don’t try to speak.”  She cautioned, her expression doleful.  “You were a bit bitey coming in, so they put in a mouth guard.  I’ll ask about that as well.”  She rose from the bed and lifted up the gate as she did.  She noted something on his chart and clipped it back to the foot of his bed.

Her eyes smiled as she took him in.  “I’m so happy you’re here and safe.  I’m Nurse Eve, by the way.  I’ll be taking care of you during your stay.”  She patted his foot.  “Get some rest.”

She closed the door.

Still confused about everything, Howard decided to take her advice to rest, as if there was another option, and closed his eyes.

A ratcheting noise, loud and grating, followed by a muffled cry ripped in his ears.  His eyes popped open and cast over to the curtain separating the room.  The ratchet noise happened again, followed by hairy ticks of cracking bone and a stifled scream.

Fighting panic, Howard tested his bonds again, arms, legs, thighs and biceps, with a strap across his chest for good measure.  He was completely helpless.

The sound became worse and the screams louder as the bones splintered.  

Howard tried calling for Nurse Eve, but only a murmur escaped the gag filling his mouth.  He felt around for a call button, but it felt as if his hands were locked in padded mittens.

Suddenly the curtain drew back with a rattling hiss.  A nurse stood there, but her uniform was shining black latex that glistened like molten tar.  She wore high-heeled shoes, her toes en-point, that made the illusion her legs were inhumanly long.  They made a sharp, chilling, staccato as she walked.  Her waist was obscenely tiny and her breasts were twin zeppelins bursting out of her chest.

She moved with the jerky grace of a robot.  Her head tilted slightly as if she didn’t understand something.

She peered down at Howard.

Her face was a black, shiny smooth, featureless orb.  Where Howard expected to see his own reflection in the polished rubber, he somehow saw her face projected on.  She had sharp, narrow eyes shielded by long, long lashes.  Her full, red lips slowly twisted up into a cruel smile that showed her teeth had been chiseled into fangs.

She turned away and stepped back to the other side of the room.  Howard hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath until he started breathing again.  He held his breath again when he saw what was on the other side of the room.

A man was strapped to a metal frame with a series of steel hoops ringed about his arms and legs.  Rods pierced deep into each limb and connected to the rings to hold it in place.

The man screamed into the fat leather pad that covered his mouth with subdued cries for mercy.

The nurse reached down and turned a crank.  Howard watched the man’s leg stretch several inches before it began to distort and dislocate.  The man howled furiously before blacking out.  The nurse regarded him, miffed he would dare pass out on her.  She pulled out a tiny bottle of smelling salts from the folds of her uniform and waved it under his nose while slapping his face with her free hand to rouse him.  He awoke screaming, almost surprised the nightmare continued.

She then took the crank for his arm and slowly turned it.

Two more black swathed nurses burst into the room and surrounded Howard.  Taking hold of his bed, they released the wheel locks and pushed him out into the hall.  White, glaring, flickering fluorescent lights revealed dingy cracked tiled walls.  The sound of the nurse’s heels on the black and white linoleum floor as they charged down the corridor was maddening, dizzying.  Howard caught glimpses of other patients trapped in a Torquemada medical facility.

‘I am dreaming!’  His mind raced.  ‘A nightmare!’

They crashed through a set of double doors and into a shadowy room.  Squinting against the light beaming down, Howard struggled to peer into the dim.  People, their silhouettes milling about, an occasional spot of light reflected from someone’s glasses, sat in theater, waited quietly for the show to begin.

“Good morning, class!”  Sharp heels ticked on the floor from behind Howard.  “We have a very special presentation for you today.”  The speaker came into view.  She wore all latex, the color of murder red.  The shining and shimmering gown danced and played as it slithered about her feet.  It swept up to her corseted waist that was built for the sole purpose of supporting the weight of her mammoth breasts that swayed as she moved.  She had a long, regal neck, accented by a neck corset that forced her chin up.  Her head, save her face, was covered in tight latex.

She smiled as she regarded Howard, and her glacier blue eyes cut brutally into him.  Her lips were thin and sneering, and her nose was aquiline and a bit too long.  Her sharp cheekbones could be registered as dangerous weapons.

In spite of himself, Howard, confident it was a dream, found his manhood stirring.

She leaned back and laughed, a barking witch’s cackle that sent chills through him and firing him up all the more.  She bent at the hips awkwardly, her corset and massive breasts hindering her, and grabbed Howard’s bed sheets and yanked them away, exposing him.

Save the straps restraining him, Howard was naked.

Turning to her audience like a circus barker she announced, “Today’s surgery will be… total evisceration!”

Masochist Hell

Teaser, get the whole story here!

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Copyrighted, 5/2023, all rights reserved.

Take a tour of Mistress Safia's wild dungeon of thrills and torments, of science and perversion, where slaves go eagerly for the ultimate submission!

Follow along as a candidate slave is show what might happen in Mistress Safia's care.  Permanent bondage!  Chastity! Castration! To name a few...  


Permanent Position (Teaser) 

By DX

 

(Subscribe for the full, exciting story https://subscribestar.adult/dx-gagorder), https://subscribestar.adult/posts/861690)

 

 

Copyright,  4/2022 1/2023, all rights reserved.  Story may not be reproduced without permission.

 

 

 

 

“Hello!  And welcome!  After all the e-mails, texting, and video chat it is good to finally see you in person.  Although we’ve virtually met, let me formally introduce myself:  I am sub-mistress Gwen.  You’ll often hear the other ladies and lords refer to me as Miss Gwen.  To be clear, you have applied to join Mistress Safia’s stable as a slave.  I have the honor today to conduct your final interview.  Once completed, I will file a report to Mistress Safia and she will determine if you are suitable to join her stables.  Know that this will be less of an interview and more of a pre-orientation session.  I will do all the talking.  

“As you can see, Mistress Safia is a woman of wealth and means.  The opulence you see is just the foyer!  However, before we begin, there are a few issues to clarify.  Mistress Safia is, as we have previously discussed in our correspondence, a true sadist, and believes in the subjugation of slaves.  Slaves are not considered people.  Clothes or affectations are forbidden.   Before we can move forward into the drawing room you must disrobe.  Excellent, you have no fear of being naked in front of a stranger.  This is a good slave quality.  Fold your clothes neatly and place them on the table.   Place your watch, jewelry, wallet, and phone into this pouch.  Very good.  Now, hand me the pouch, but do not touch me.  Good.  For the duration of the interview, I will hang the pouch right here on my utility belt.  If you move forward in this process, your personal artifacts will be stored in a pouch such as this one and secured in a safe where they will remain.  In the event of your resignation or termination, your items will be returned to you.

“Now that you have seen the pouch, know this is all the storage space you will be allowed to keep.  Any item that does not fit in this pouch will be discarded.  Consider that, should you move forward in the selection process.  

“Looking at you I see you may have used, let’s just say, a less updated picture in your application.  As a slave, your diet will be nutritionally appropriate.  I imagine you’ll loose a few pounds, most slaves do.  However, before we move on, I cannot risk any of the ladies or lords to see your, less attributed physique.  Fortunately I have come prepared.  There on that table you’ll see a cat-suit.  Put it on.  If you are brought on as a slave this will be the only option you’ll wear.  Most of our slaves wear them and they work very well to correct any flaws.  Go on, you’ll find it is quite stretchy.  It looks like, feels like, and acts like smooth, shiny, latex, but it too is made from Nanotech.  We call it Nanotex.  Because of its nature, you can wear it indefinitely.  You don’t even have to bathe!  Just a quick wipe down to remove any dust and refresh its shine.  Yes, this does look good for you.  I imagine if you join our stables this will be your uniform for the duration of your stay here.  Also know that slaves are not to have any body hair.  Mistress Safia believes body hair is unkempt, and a genetic throw back to caveman times.  The suit, however, eliminates body hair; otherwise you would be required to shave daily.  A single hair stubble is grounds for punishment.  Many slaves find the chore of shaving cumbersome and prefer to wear the suit indefinitely.

“Before we begin the formal portion of your interview, I must instruct you that all slaves are to be on their knees at all time.  Go on… there you are.  Walking is for people, and since slaves are not considered people, you will be on your knees.  It is painful at first, but the slaves quickly get used to it.  With some exception, you will find most of your duties, cleaning or servicing, can be conducted from your knees.  For today, if you break this rule I will immediately terminate the interview and you will be sent home.  To insure that does not happen, I have brought these trainers.  Lightweight and elegant, they lock onto your ankles.  Its simple design keeps the foot pushed down.  While in place you’ll find standing is impossible.  Click them on.  You’ll hardly notice them, well, unless you try to stand.  Of course they are made of Nanotech.  Because of the composition of the Nano-tubes, the density can be completely controlled.  The form you wear on your ankles is harder than titanium.

“Up straight!  Shoulders back!  Head down!  That is the slave position!  Now, follow me into the salon.  Up!  Do not crawl!  You must learn to walk on your knees.  Do not look at any of the ladies or lords, keep your eyes down cast.  In our electronic interviews you stated you were a submissive, well, this is submission.  If you cannot pass this test, then I see no need to continue the interview.  Ah!  Very good!  You are determined to serve.  I will note that in my report.  Almost there… just a few more yards.  You will be surprised how quickly you will learn to move about.  Make your way over to the settee.  You may sit back on your heels.  This is the attending position where you would wait to be of service.  If a lady or lord speaks to you, you will rise up straight and remain in that position until they have stopped talking to you.  Very good!  For this part of the interview, you may remain in the attending position.

“Often we receive requests from submissives to fill our stables and many are very motivated, but when faced with the actual event, a real life commitment, here in front of a real mistress, the reality is overwhelming.  Many decide during this final interview they are not truly submissive.  If this happens to you, simply bow your head and shake your head repeatedly.  I will take notice and terminate the interview and you may leave.  At any time during your slavery you will have the option to leave, except when being punished.  A slave may leave after their punishment has been concluded.  Just know this; once you leave you may never return.  Mistress Safia has numerous candidates who are eager to take your place.

“I know I have not given you an opportunity to talk and that is with good reason.  Slaves are not allowed to talk.  If a slave utters a word they will be punished.  Often slaves will, in their own silent idiom, request for a permanent solution: their tongues surgically altered and their vocal cords cut.  These, of course, are our slaves who have committed themselves to Mistress Safia and will be in service to her for the rest of their lives.  If Mistress Safia acquiesces to the operation, it is considered an honor for the slave since it means that Mistress Safia has also accepted the slave’s life long commitment to her.

“In the interim, however, I cannot risk you accidentally speaking during this interview.  Here on this tray I have some items.  I will set the tray on the floor for you.  That would be your slave’s collar.  It is a training device.  Put that on.  There you go, now click it until it is skin-tight.  Feel for a small stud on the side, very good, yes a pin has popped out.  That pin is a computer-coded key.  Without that key you will wear that collar for the rest of your life.  The key and the collar are made from Nanotech.  While the key is very strong, it can be broken if put in a vice and hit with a hammer.  Either way, we must keep it safe.  I have your pouch here.  Drop that pin into the pouch, but be careful not to touch me.  If you touch me, even by accident, I will terminate the interview and you will be sent home.  

“Very good.  Now, a bit of unpleasantness: hum a few bars for me.  Just random notes, go ahead.  Yes, that was absolutely excruciating.  I’m sorry, but it’s over now.  Come now, back to the attending position.  There you are, all done.  It is an important demonstration.  Only a few mishaps and a slave quickly learns silence is golden, or at least pain free.  The collar uses reverse bioelectrics.  It powers itself by using your own body’s bioelectricity.  It also demonstrates some of the wonderful toys at Mistress Safia’s disposal.

“Next on the tray is a chastity device.  Put it on.  It is self-evident how it goes.  Yes, it is tight.  You’ll have to stuff yourself in.  While you do that, let me explain an important concept:  Slaves are not allowed any sexual pleasure.  They live for the pleasure of the Ladies and Lords of the manor and not for their own gratification.  All slaves wear a device such as this when they join Mistress Safia’s stables.  It weighs only a few grams but it is stronger than tungsten steel.  After a few years of service some of our slaves… wait, let me be clear, all of our slaves who wish to stay, request a bilateral orchiectomy.  This is the surgical removal of the testes.  Many slaves are happy to be relieved of the male burden and the never-ending sexual drive.  Mistress Safia often authorizes a penectomy, the removal of the penis, and scrotoplasty, removal of the scrotum during this procedure.  This leaves the slave with an attractive appearance in the scrotal area.  You may see some of the slaves moving around with their crotch area exposed.  This is a badge of honor and a demonstration of a commitment of life long servitude.  

“We are years away from such a thing.  For today, however, I want you to get a feel for your chastity.  It looks as if you installed it correctly, very nice… now press the little stud and the key will pop out.  There it is!  Here is your pouch.  Carefully drop the key in.  Now while your pouch is open, press the stud for your ankle trainers and retrieve the key for them.  Left, then right and into the pouch they go!  

“My, this is becoming a very valuable pouch!  Without these keys your restraints are permanent.  You would need a high-powered laser or a plasma-cutter to cut Nanotech, and you would probably lose a limb or two in the process.  No matter, your pouch and keys are perfectly safe here on my utility belt.  I will take care to make sure it is within your view so we are all honest here.

“While we’re on the subject of honesty, know that Mistress Safia is unyielding on the subject.  No one in her care, not even a Sub-Mistress like myself, is allowed to lie.  The punishments are quite severe.  You may think, silenced as you are, you are incapable of lying, but it can happen.  A slave can hide things, for example, or intentionally fail to disclose information.  For example, a Lady has mislaid her purse and a slave sees it, but makes no indication to his mistress but instead lets her continue to search for it.  That slave would be punished for lying.  Do you understand?  

“Ah!  Do not speak!  The collar you wear is unmerciful!  There, it is over now.  The pain is already a distant memory, but I hope its lesson will linger with you.  Were it not for that collar preventing you from uttering a single note, this interview would be over.  Lucky you!  Oh, I wore the collar for a month.  The pain is like a lightening bolt right through you.  Ah!  It gives me the shivers thinking about it now. 

“There you are!  Show resolve!  Wipe away those tears.  You’ll never get used to the pain the collar delivers, but you can learn silence.  After a few years the collar could be removed, but your mind would be programmed to be silent.  

 

Permanent Position, Teaser.  Subscribe for the full story!

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