"High-heeled hell" Part XII
(c) Aiken 2004
"Hi Paul!" Miss Juniper exclaimed to her old college chum standing in her
doorway, "Come in. You're right on time. Do you need some help with that?"
Kilo's Industrial Corp.'s top engineer Paul Ning had phoned Dana Juniper three
days earlier, wanting to show off another one of his remarkable inventions.
Ludmilla Hinton, Paul's 22-year old security intern was field testing the new
device for a scholastic paper on proper slave training techniques. Looking
forward to a fun weekend Miss J. eagerly invited him over.
"No thanks, I've got it," Paul smiled as he stepped in carrying a heavy case.
"Miss Juniper, may I present to you Lou Hinton, the graduate student I was
telling you about, and her volunteer Otis Fenn."
Ludmilla entered the apartment carrying two padded equipment bags and greeted
Miss Juniper with her most radiant smile. Otis, following Ludmilla warily into
the room, glanced in all directions.
Otis had been wooing Ludmilla for nearly a year, but she'd rebuffed his frequent
proposals for marriage. She made it clear that any chance he had to retain her
good favor required him to submit to her bizarre research, and endure a series
of painful and rigorous tests. Her experiments required strict controls and
precise data, and offered little in the way of kindness or comfort. He didn't
like the sound of that, but hoping to satisfy her demands and ultimately win her
marital consent, Otis agreed to her mysterious and frightening terms anyway.
Miss Juniper led her three guests through her living and dining rooms and down a
short hallway to a sparsely-furnished area she called her playroom. It was
actually a large skylit atrium leading to her ninth-floor balcony and two guest
rooms. Miss J found the spacious, brightly lit area perfect for parties and
domination games.
She was wearing one of her favorite outfits for Saturday entertaining - a black
leather vest cut tight at the bodice and high-waisted leather pants with corset
lacing, custom fitted to her slender hips and shapely ass. Knee-high black
leather boots with tall heels completed her stylish tone. A long-sleeved white
blouse with delicate embroidery added a touch of softness and contrast to her
aggressive riding leathers; two buttons left undone at the top drew Paul's eyes
to a touch of cleavage at her breasts. Her eyelids were shadowed in a smoky
color; her lips were as famously red and glossy as ever. Small wisps of her
loosely pinned-up auburn hair strayed occasionally into her eyes, completing the
lusty illusion of an impetuous senorita fresh from her morning romp on
horseback.
"Well, here we all are..." She said, expectantly clasping her hands together,
"Would any of you like some water, juice or coffee perhaps?"
"Thanks, Dana," Paul replied. He rested the oversized case on the floor and
began to unlatch it, "I'm good for now. Maybe some coffee later though... I'll
unpack this unit and let these two get started. What about you, Lou?"
"Thank you, Miss Juniper," Ludmilla answered, "A pitcher of ice water and some
dry towels could be helpful to us later in our presentation."
Ludmilla placed her bags near one of the large ferns at the perimeter of the
room and took a deep breath, feeling tiny butterflies of stage fright, even
though she was looking her best. She wore her royal blue rayon skirt-suit and
jacket, dark nylons and sleek four-inch tall black leather pumps. The suit's
slim cut and split skirt made the most of her trim figure and long legs, and its
color always accentuated her blonde hair, which she wore medium length with a
slight curl. Her white silk blouse and tie looked fresh and sexy framed by the
jacket's narrow blue lapels.
Lou hoped her dressy attire and lavishly applied makeup would please her
hostess, who had a well-known passion for such things. Performing in the home of
Miss Juniper, a domme Lou had revered for years, excited the young intern beyond
measure. Nothing would satisfy Lou more than giving back a fraction of the
pleasure the notorious teacher had already given her. Juniper's soft yet lethal
style of torturing young ladies entranced Ludmilla every time she watched her
idol perform live on CTC, or in dozens of popular Miss J. torture vids and
tutorials. And her eternal penchant for sexy heels and flamboyant lipsticks had
inspired Lou right from the beginning. Lou emulated those same delightfully
femme fetishes in her own emerging style of dominance, which for some reason she
preferred to dispense upon men rather than women.
Consensual torture and invokement of women was a highly visible and publicly
celebrated form of art these days, but subjugating men in a similar fashion was
considered a risky proposition, to be arranged in whispers and conducted behind
sealed doors only. That was one of the aspects that attracted Lou so much to
dominating males. Its taboo nature made it a form of edge play, even though a
wealth of men secretly craved such harsh treatment. Kilo's engineers had been
looking in the same direction for new profits when they hired Lou. Their
marketing chiefs saw a strong business potential in male torture, which she
could help them develop and refine.
Lou pointed a well-manicured fingertip at Otis's belt. Following her silent cue
he hurriedly began to undress. As he fumbled with his clothing, she removed two
cameras and matching tripods from her bags and expertly mounted them at right
angles to the center of the room. Lou trained in live production arts as a teen
and worked as a studio engineer during college as she pursued a degree in
security management. Three weeks after commencement she was working at Kilo
Corporation, directly under the legendary Paul Ning. She felt lucky and blessed.
"Dana, this is our new MST-2200 in its easy-traveling design," Paul said. He
lifted a mass of metal from the case and began unfolding the complex mechanism
at the center of the room's tile-covered floor. Paul's hands moved quickly,
snapping sturdy alloy struts into place until a rigid three-foot tall
rectangular-shaped table began to appear.
"It's part of a new system of self-punishment tools we've been developing
exclusively for men." Paul explained as he worked, "We're testing it in tandem
with Lou's research. When her paper is published in the trades later this
summer, we'll have these for sale in all of the usual outlets."
"How exciting," said Miss J, "I've been anxious to see this demonstration ever
since you teased me mercilessly on the phone the other day." She poured two cups
of coffee at the kitchenette in a small alcove of her playroom, and strolled
back to watch her friend assemble his toy.
"A smooth surface like your floor here is ideal," Paul said as he finished up
and slid his empty case out of harm's way, "Its six legs have suction-clamp
feet. They'll keep everything stable, even during the roughest sessions. The
MST-2200 excels in participatory incarcerations and self-torture. The prisoner
crouches over the trainer, slipping his knees into these padded stretch-cups at
the back. They're just tall enough to trap his legs in a tightly bent position.
The arms slide through these steel rings fixed near the top corners of the
table's opposite end. See those two handlebar grips near the bottoms of the far
legs? He'll be just able to reach them when he fully reclines over the table's
frame. Steel wrist restraints are activated automatically when he grasps both of
the handles. That single action imprisons a subject on the table by his manacled
wrists, isolating him from any contact with the floor. By this time both his
thighs will be resting against vertical plastic pads at the back of the frame.
The tight geometry of this bondage locks both hips in position, insuring that
his knees can't be lifted out of their rubbery pouches. A prisoner's back can't
be arched more than a fraction of an inch, nor can his arms be heaved from side
to side, thanks to the cuffs and harm hoops keeping his wrists and elbows in
check. He will remain thus, securely bound by his own hands until someone
releases his wrist cuffs with a key, or until his sentence is served, assuming
the unit has been configured for timed release."
"Ah!" Miss Juniper mused, handing Paul his cup of coffee, "Self-bondage done
right, eh?"
"Yes, but there is more," Paul smiled, "Though a subject's body is kept in rigid
bondage, the unit itself is nevertheless designed for a special type of
movement. Flexing his wrists up and down against his handgrips, the entire
framework holding his body slides backward and forward on a lubricated inner
carriage. Its travel can be regulated from zero to twenty centimeters. The
reason for this oscillation will become clear to you during today's tests."
"This is starting to sound pretty good," Miss J chuckled, "It almost reminds me
of those MTP units of yours we tested on Shara Simmonds and her mother last
month. They used a single means of restraint also. But the portability of this
design looks terrific. So does the easy access it gives to a victim's buttocks.
It should make an ideal whipping table."
"Oh yes, It's perfect for whippings and canings," Paul replied, "and ass
fuckings too. But the added charm of this device comes from how intelligent it
is. It's actually a customizable torture robot, with a huge capacity of
programmable actions. Weeks worth of rules and instructions can be stored on a
removable disk half the size of a credit card. The same disk can also record a
mind-boggling amount of data about virtually everything that occurs on the
table. It tracks body temperatures, respiratory cycles, electrical properties,
pain levels, session audio, speed and distances traveled - you name it. Up to
one month of continuous activity can be stored on a single disk. It gives us an
unheard-of ability for research and record keeping."
Standing across the large room, Ludmilla and Otis were unaware of Paul and
Dana's brisk conversation. Ludmilla had finished setting her cameras on
auto-record. She stood facing her naked boyfriend, reapplying an intense shade
of red lipstick to her mouth in a ritual she followed a dozen or more times each
day. With hands folded behind his back, Otis held a three-inch square mirror for
her, gripping a rubber mouthpiece behind the mirror with his teeth, and standing
as motionless as possible while she painted her sexy lips. Between strokes she
stopped to press her lips together languorously and admire her glossy
reflection, mere inches from his face and close enough for him to smell the
subtle perfume of her cosmetics. Every so often she paused to pluck at her
boyfriend's nipples with her sharp fingernails before resuming her application.
"This unit has been pre-sized to Otis's exact dimensions," Paul continued. "So
the leg cups should fit like a glove. The four-point restraint is a precise body
match too. Another important customization has to do with his genitals, which
fit inside a rectangular tray as he stretches across the table. The PT tray as
we often call it is a three-sided stainless steel box containing sophisticated
instruments for penile torture. It will abuse a man's penis, balls and ass in a
variety of preselected ways. The tray remains stationary along with the table's
handlebars and sub-chassis, even as the rest of the unit slides with the
prisoner's wrist motions. Indeed the tray will require him to do just that...
move smoothly and deliberately forward and back."
"How delightful," said Miss Juniper, patting a loveseat for her and Paul to sit
in, "Tell me some more about the genital tortures!"
"I knew you'd be interested in that part, Dana," Paul answered with a grin,
"Perhaps it's best explained by demonstration. Are you and your subject ready
for an equipment shakedown, Lou?"
"Yes Mr. Ning, all set," Ludmilla answered, scraping her bright red nails across
Otis's chest and looking into his frightened eyes, "Aren't you, Odie? Well...
except for this thing."
Shivering slightly, Otis saw his ladylove frown in displeasure over his flaccid
penis.
"You promised to keep yourself suitably stiff for me," She said with a pout,
"Remember Odie, I want my subjects to enjoy whatever I do to them. It's a sign
of their love, and a vital part of my tests."
"Uh, sorry," he said, touching his cock. It felt distant and cold, an extension
of the anxiety the rest of him was feeling, "I don't know, maybe I'm too scared
or something."
"We'll have to work on that problem," she said, pulling open one of her
equipment bags, "I won't tolerate a disobedient penis. Fortunately I have a
stim-ring, but disappointing me is going to cost you."
Ludmilla placed a small rubbery-looking doughnut around the head of Otis's penis
and pressed a button on the underside of it. The circlet inflated slightly and
emitted a faint humming noise. A row of tiny lights began flashing in a circular
pattern around the ring. Otis gasped with immediate pleasure. His organ bathed
in the warm impulses flashing through the ring. In less than a minute the shy
penis ascended to a fully hardened state, drooling a bit of pre-seminal fluid
and nodding with apparent lust in tempo with the man's excited heartbeat.
"There... much better," she said humorlessly, "But you'll get a larger probe on
account of this."
"I've trained him to respond to my lipstick and nipple play for several weeks
now," Ludmilla said to Paul and Miss Juniper, "He was maintaining nice hardons
for me, even with the weights I kept on his balls. But we're in a new setting
today. His conditioning seems to have faltered."
"It's OK," said Paul, "First-timer's nerves. Make a note of this in your chart
for tracking his improvement. Are you ready to coach him into the device now?"
"Absolutely, Sir!" she smiled for Paul. "He's hard and ready... and so indeed am
I."
"You may proceed," Paul said.
Come with me," Ludmilla commanded her lover, steering him tenderly by his right
arm, "I'll be guiding you this time. But after the first session you'll have to
do it all by yourself."
Otis first thought of lifting himself up by his arms and placing both knees in
the cups at once, but he soon discovered that wouldn't work. His muscular legs
had to be manually pressed into tight jack-knives to fit inside the stretchy
knee cups. With Lou's hands assisting him, Otis lifted his right leg and folded
it firmly behind him before dropping his right knee into the first cup. By the
way it enveloped his leg, Otis knew he wouldn't be going anywhere soon.
It now became a challenge to lift his left leg high enough to angle it into the
second cup. His helper offered no assistance this time. She waited for him to
solve the problem by himself. Finally he turned his hip outward and tried
leaning his upper body away from the left cup and pressing the leg into a tight
fold with his left arm. After a couple of tries he felt his left knee go in at
last. His legs were fully fused inside the cups, which seemed to ensnare him
like oversized Chinese finger puzzles. Otis doubted he could withdraw himself
later without some assistance, especially if he grew tired and sore from his
bondage.
"You did your second leg very nicely," Lou said, patting him on his back, "Here
comes the tricky part though. We need to insert this item into your penis."
"What?" Otis blinked apprehensively as his girlfriend held up a silver-colored
rod. It was nearly nine inches long and as wide as a soda straw. He noticed the
rod swelled to a one-inch thick knob about an inch away from the top end. Above
that nob the rod resumed its soda-straw thickness again. She tugged the
stim-ring off the head of Otis's penis and gave his engorged organ a friendly
little squeeze.
"Still nice and firm." she said proudly, "Good. Now it's time to anchor the
penis probe into place." She pressed the rod into a round socket of the two-inch
high lip at the far end of the PT tray so that the probe's rounded tip pointed
backward toward Otis's genitals. A soft click could be heard followed by a small
beeping tone.
"Testing chime," she said eagerly as she crouched on the right side of her
nervous boyfriend and swirled a pinkie finger in the sticky fluid at the end of
his cock, "I just love that sound."
"Sockets and probes have micro-electric connectors inside them." she explained,
"They sense lots of business going on, including how much probe is buried inside
you at any given moment. This model is one size up from the narrowest one I'd
planned on using today, but it's relatively very slim. There are eight larger
sizes too, and ten shapes for each size. Think of it... a hundred different ways
I can choose from to train a boyfriend's naughty penis!"
Otis stared at her in astonishment, not quite believing her alien-sounding
words. He hoped she was joking, but it didn't appear to sound that way.
As she spoke, Lou produced a small tube of ointment and squeezed a stripe of
clear gel atop the seven inches of probe beneath its ball-shaped knob. She then
placed a large blob of gel at the opening of Otis's penis and tossed the tube
away. Lifting up at the knob near the socketed end of the probe, Lou angled the
flexible spear upward. She tilted the young man's erection down with her other
hand, and without further ado gently placed the tip of the probe into the
buttered eye of his penis.
"Push," she said simply, "Use your body, not your hands."
"Ohhh.." Otis moaned, frightened and surprised by the acute sensation he felt.
"That's right... drive yourself forward," she cood, stroking his erection with
two delicate fingers.
"Oh God, it's stabbing me!" he yelped, gripping the frame as he moved his penis
forward, "This hurts!"
"I know it does dear, but keep leaning forward anyway" she said, lightly tracing
his penis with her fingers and squeezing his buttocks with her other hand, "This
is only number two warmer-gel I'm using, but then I'll bet your dick has never
been raped before. Look how smoothly it slides in anyway, violating your poor
penis... Isn't this sexy? Maybe it will help you not to watch. We're impaling
you very naturally just by lying across my table."
Lou was flushed with excitement as she saw the second inch of silvery plastic
disappear into her boyfriend's defenseless cock. She took a moment to friction
her vulva through her pantyhosed crotch. Its tight silken gusset already swam in
the secretions of her arousal. Lou adored the feelings it gave her to control a
man's body so unconditionally. She also loved the idea of making a man's penis
perform an act clearly opposite to its genetic purpose. But to insist that he
subjugate his own cock in this way to satisfy her requirements was sweet icing
on her cake.
"I don't like this..." Otis complained again, "Not a bit. I don't think I can
continue..." He was trembling in pain and dripping sweat. Panic rose in his
throat.
"Nonsense," Lou replied tapping at his nipples with her left hand and squeezing
his cock firmly with her right, "You're doing great - better than you know.
There's lots of room left inside this dick of yours, Odie, and my probe is
barely halfway in. We don't dare stop."
"I'm telling you I can't do this," he cried, "I hate it. It burns... please, we
have to quit." He began struggling from side to side, unconsciously increasing
the distress inside his cock.
"Forget that silly talk and keep going," she said, taking a firm grab of his
scrotum to end the hysterics. "You don't hate this at all... what you hate is a
probe four sizes bigger than this one, or one with ten little balls on it, or
the rippled models that rotate, with number seven warmer-gel to drill through.
That's exactly what you'll get if you don't cooperate. Now do as I say and get
your body forward. Put those arms up through the stirrups and lay yourself down.
That's all you need to do. Your penis is at the right angle now. More than three
inches of my silver phallus is fucking you nicely. The rest of it will slide in
all by itself if you'll quit being such a crybaby."
The man whimpered as he tried to heed his lover's callous commands. Inching his
fingers up the sides of the frame, he reached for the arm hoops and felt the
probe driving deeper into his helpless penis. Otis groaned loudly as he thrust
his elbows past the hoops, then fell forward with a sob, crashing his chest into
the top of the table. A wave of agony stabbed the base of his cock as the head
of his penis came to rest against the probe's large knob.
"Well done!" Ludmilla cheered with a clap of her hands.
"Mmmm..." Miss J. growled softly to Paul as they sat watching from their nearby
seat. "Paul, this is lovely. I wonder what a tool like that could do for some of
the big tough board members at my school."
"They find humility pretty fast," Paul suggested, "We have a dozen couples
beta-testing these tables right now. The results so far are spectacular. But
none of them are being supervised like Lou and Otis here are. We gave her 3
weeks of intensive training on how to dominate a man using the MST-2200. Otis
doesn't know what he's up against. She's following the exact recipe we taught
her for reducing any would-be husband to a fully compliant slave, if not a
babbling slut masochist, in about a month. Nothing compares to the power this
unit has, either as a male disciplinary method, or as a means for completely
restructuring a man's behavior."
"Not to mention an excellent sex toy," Miss Juniper chimed in cheerfully, "I'm
getting off just watching the two of them. Ludmilla has a real talent for this.
As you know, torturing men isn't my area of interest. I've always preferred
semi-consensual young ladies. But, that gadget and your intern are inspiring me
to try a little of it. Do you mind if I masturbate?"
"I would love for you to do that," Paul said smiling, "and so would Lou I think.
She idolizes you quite a bit. She wants this demonstration to make you very
happy."
"I really must have one of these tables," she said, squeezing his leg for
emphasis as her other hand snaked its way down to her leather-covered clitoris.
"I was hoping you'd feel that way," Paul replied with a wink, "And don't worry,
our bargain is still in effect. I'll have one of them delivered to you whenever
you're ready to experiment with it, or feature it in one of your network
broadcasts."
"You'll want to work on improving your style points in future sessions, Odie."
Ludmilla said grinning and fiddling with her gold bracelet, "And that whining of
yours definitely has to go. But I admit you did pretty well for a first-timer.
Now, feel for those two handles and squeeze on them hard. That's all it takes
now to lock yourself in."
Choking back a sob, her defeated boyfriend complied with her final instructions.
Grasping the two handlebars tightly he felt a steel handcuff ensnare each wrist.
Preset for his exact wrist size, they held him securely yet without any
additional pain.
"OK. I'm done with your test," he sighed, cooling his cheek on the flat section
of table frame beneath his head. He was keeping his lower body absolutely
motionless in hopes that his penis wouldn't need to suffer anymore. "Would you
mind helping me out of this mess?"
"Don't be rude," Lou replied, "I plan to help you up as soon as your lesson is
finished, but it actually hasn't begun yet. Your first lesson was supposed to
include twenty minutes of PT tray activities. But since you took more than the
three minutes you're allotted for climbing aboard the MST, you've earned seven
extra disciplinary minutes, for a total of twenty-seven minutes of penile
punishment."
"What are you talking about?" Otis said trying to blink the stinging
perspiration from his eyes. All of a sudden Lou was using the word lesson
instead of session, and punishment instead of training. This talk was
frightening him.
"Punishments for what?" He asked incredulously.
"You'll get better at this, darling," she said, patting the sweat from his neck
with a cool cloth, "Your performance will improve tomorrow and the next day and
each day after that. I'm sure of it. The idea is for you to hop aboard my table
efficiently without any fussing or trouble, fill your cock to the brim and lock
your body down at the exact times I've designated; you'll even do it by yourself
if I'm not around. I'll have my cameras positioned to record your progress as
you ride my table for longer and longer durations, while using various exotic
probes I've selected for screwing your penis. Of course the MST keeps track of
everything too. It tabulates each minute of your suffering. It also counts the
seconds between your knee cuppings and your wrist cuff engagements. If more than
three minutes elapse you earn the seven extra minutes of trouble. More than five
minutes gets you another ten. It's based on a conditioning program I devised
just for you. I didn't set guidelines higher than five minutes because I have
faith in your desire to toe my marks. But, Odie, stay on the lookout for those
penalties to increase without warning. Also, after a certain number of sessions
tough penalties will be levied against your two and three minute mountings. And
those times will shorten again and again. See how it works? And no I won't tell
you how many sessions it takes to activate those changes, or even if it's
random. That's irrelevant anyway. What's important is your desire to improve
your lockdown times for me, and to anticipate my desires, or even leap ahead of
them. So be aware of such rule changes from now on."
"But you're not even telling me the rules," he said, close to tears, "How am I
supposed to know them?"
"I don't expect you to know," Ludmilla said, "I expect you to remain sincere."
It's a key part of my research for you not to know when I'm counting the
seconds, or grading you on actions you should be doing to your utmost anyway.
Otherwise, you'd try to coast along the rest of the time. What better way to
discover the importance of doing exactly as I've wished, and not waste time
about it, than to take the very punishments I've set out for you? You must
experience them anyway for my data to be complete, but doing it this way is more
fun, plus it makes you a better table slave. So... I expect you to strive and
learn. When you come up short, which will be often, I'll expect you to suffer
for a while and take it like a man. Don't cry about it. This first lesson is the
easiest one of all, a mere twenty-seven minutes, even with your penalty. And
you've lucked out too. You missed getting another ten-minute penance by eleven
seconds. Count your blessings for that. In any case on days two through seven
I've got you scheduled for thirty-six minutes of minimum table torture. However,
any slack in following my instructions, or laziness shown in less conspicuous
ways will earn you extra minutes, or extra sessions, or any of dozens more ways
I have of chastising you."
"Damn," Otis thought to himself. "Days and days of this, and dozens of
punishments? None of it sounds right. How can my sweetheart be saying these
words to me? If it weren't for the ache in my penis and the strain in my arms
and legs, I'd say I was dreaming. But it's real. My pain is real, and so are
Ludmilla's cruel smiles."
"Lou, how long is this crazy shit going to last?" he asked his captress.
"It isn't polite to make fun of someone's research," Lou said, "But since you've
asked, I have a five-week schedule of lessons for you already programmed into
the MST. I should have enough data by then to compile my final report and earn
my masters degree in universal security. Your trials should be over then also,
unless you wish to engage in further experimentation."
"Say, haven't we been using up those twenty-seven minutes?" Otis thought
suddenly, "I guess we've knocked out about a dozen of them already, right?"
"Good try," She smiled tenderly, "But those minutes still await you, Odie. The
sequence would have started long before now, sixty seconds after your wrist
cuffing in fact. But I paused your torture so we could chat awhile. Everything
looks spooky to a test subject during a trial run. So it makes sense to take
matters slowly the first time, and do some explaining. This is actually your
toughest test of all, my love. Now that you know the kinds of tasks I'll be
demanding from you over the next several weeks you'll need all your courage to
move beyond this point. There will be no more pausing after today, and no
mornings, afternoons or evenings off. We must proceed ahead on schedule, and you
must cope the best way you can."
"The best way I can..." he repeated dubiously, finding fresh pangs of fear in
her words, "Five weeks you say... I wonder if I can be that strong."
"Dearest, you already are that strong!" Lou smiled. She kneeled again, bringing
her face very close and stroking his hair. She grazed his cheek with her
enameled lips and teased him with her scented whispers, "You're here with me
right now aren't you? I've chosen you... and you've accepted my challenge.
There's your strength. All you have to do is keep it. Keep your strength and
you'll keep me. Work hard to finish this and you'll become my hero, the man who
completes me, my treasure always. If you ran away from all this, I couldn't
blame you a bit. I've told you these tests would be miserable at times, but that
I would make them as easy for you as I possibly could. Still only a man with the
greatest love and commitment can finish my inquiry. And that man is you. I know
the strength is inside you, as surely as that probe sits in your penis right
now. Naturally if you don't agree and choose to give up, I will never set eyes
on you again. We already spoke of that, remember? If you want to quit, let me
know now. I'll understand. I'll set you free immediately and we'll say goodbye."
"Oh come on, baby..." Otis moaned, "Why does it have to be like this? You know I
don't want that. I want you. I want to help you with your project and I want us
to stay in love. But I'm still afraid. I'm not afraid of the pain. I fear not
knowing, being left in the dark. I don't have a clue why it is you need to hurt
me so much, Lou, or what the end result is supposed to be. What can any of this
junk be telling you? You're poking things up my dick? Why would anyone want such
data?"
"I know it sounds crazy," she said, "But you just have to trust me. And no, I
will not be sticking things inside your penis. You will be doing that. Each time
you do it you'll be proving your love for me all over again, and I will love you
for that. Every time you reach a new high in your training, I'll be there to
cheer you on and celebrate your bravery until you finish my course. And you will
finish it - trust me. It won't all be pain and punishments, darling. I'll kiss
you and give you strength when you need it the most. Could you have jammed that
probe up your cock just now and climbed over this table without my
encouragements?"
"No way." he replied thoughtfully, "I could never have done it. Then again, not
in a million years would I have wanted to..."
"There, see what I mean?" she said, positioning her smiling lips close to his,
"Something so nutty you'd never dream of doing it, or of having the strength for
it - but look at you now. You're very much alive and none the worse for wear.
You're hurting in places, but that's because I'm still teaching you things - new
rules about yourself, and about us, and about an amazing new device that
thousands of men will be discovering soon. I'm taking you places you don't
understand yet. But you will... you'll dare to understand each lesson at the
correct time. Think darling... in ten or twelve days I'll have you trained
beautifully. You will impale your cock without the use of your hands at all. You
won't need a stim-ring either. Your man will stay stiff as a board for me as you
line him up and slide right up onto one of my prongs - more difficult ones than
that skinny poker you're wearing today... and all that to honor me! I'll be so
proud when you can do that, and for all the other hurdles you'll cross. And at
every new level there will be kisses for you. Love and sex and more kisses. The
best ones you ever had. Do you want my sex and kisses, sweetheart? Do you want
them right now?"
"Yes! Of course I do," he cried eagerly.
"You're wonderful!" Lou smiled joyously, "I knew you could do this for me!"
Ludmilla gave her beau a powerful kiss on the lips, smearing her bright lipstick
onto his mouth, leaving her sultry red trademarks upon his lips and tongue, and
her heady perfume close to his nostrils. He pressed forward for another heavenly
taste of her just as she eased away. Lou stood and backed up a few steps,
clicking her narrow black heels ominously against the tiles. She placed her left
hand over the gold bracelet she wore, which doubled as a remote MST controller.
She was ready to press the tiny buttons that would unlock the table's movable
carriage, and engage the events she'd carefully planned for Otis's first harsh
lesson - the twenty-seven minutes of pitiless training he would never forget.
"Just a taste of your mistress before we begin your schooling, dear," she smiled
wickedly, "The love and sex comes first - my special love and sex that is. We'll
kiss like mad at the ten-minute mark. Can you wait ten short minutes for my
kisses, love? Promise me you'll hold out that long?"
"The woman is crazy," he thought in bewilderment, "With wacky ways of loving
someone. A guy has to be nuts for loving her back -but God help me, I do. Should
I endure ten more minutes of who-knows-what to collect on those kisses?" Otis
struggled a long moment for his answer.
"Umm... uh. Ok..." Otis replied at last, his voice tightening in fear of what
Ludmilla would do next.
End of part XII
(c) Aiken, 2004
All rights reserved
