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Review This Story || Author: Freddie Clegg

The Wards of Harwell Tusker

Chapter 7 A Shocking Practice

Chapter 7: A Shocking Practice

My methods depend heavily on the combination of psychological disorientation achieved through induced sexual arousal and the interaction that this has with endorphin release as a result of punishment, restraint and humiliation. As a consequence of the mental turmoil caused by endorphin overload, it becomes possible to mould the behaviour of the subject. Indeed, it has been my experience that given the correct combination of circumstances the subjects themselves devise the programme of their own best adjustment. The natural desire of the human female to please means that most of those I encounter are easily shaped to meet the requirements of my clients.

Two aspects of my work with Harwell Tuskers wards surprised me, however. Firstly, there was the vigour with which they engaged with the programme. The enthusiasm with which they responded to the various activities I devised for them was most gratifying and the impact on their behaviour was soon noticeable. Perhaps this was a reflection of their schooling, so recently concluded, or perhaps it was some characteristic inherited from earlier generations of Tuskers. Secondly, I was pleased to note that induced sexual arousal achieved without vaginal penetration appeared to be as effective for the purposes of the programme as had been the case with the use of penetration for my other students.

This second matter was of some interest for me. I had agreed with Harwell Tusker that the girls virginal status should be preserved as far as possible. (Though I must confess that I doubted if it was a condition that would withstand medical analysis in Estelles case at least). Accordingly I required a series of sexual stimuli for my students that would not interfere with the integrity of the hymen. I also needed to take steps to ensure that the girls should only receive such sexual gratification as I felt relevant to their personal development.

On the edge of North London in the amusingly named district of Ponders End, is a small collective of specialist companies that it has been my good fortune to work with over the years. They combine ingenious design skills with an astonishing knowledge of materials and the ability to limit their curiosity over how the results of their endeavours will be put to use. I have also been lucky enough to find one engineer that has an understanding of the new science of electrostatics. Leaving the girls safely confined, I spent a morning visiting this ingenious collective of artisans in order to collect the results of their labours.

On my return, my two students were in a state of some distress, perhaps fearing that they had been abandoned or, more likely, resenting the fact that other matters had taken my attention from them. Estelle was most vocal in her objections when I opened her casket. Amanda had simply given me a look of sullen acceptance at her confinement.

“Please, ladies, if you would be so good as to place the cuffs around your wrists and to snap the links together so that your wrists are joined.”

Although the two of them had become used to various forms of restraint over the previous week, I could see that they regarded this instruction with suspicion. They complied, however, and gave no resistance when I connected the chains linking their wrists to cables that ran up to pulleys on the ceiling. I shortened each of the cables in turn so that the girls were first brought to their feet and then forced into a position where, hands above their heads, they could only just support themselves on their toes.

The application of a gagging rubber ball to each girls mouth completed the preparations of my students, leaving them unable to comment on what was about to befall them.

It was at this point I chose to unveil the machine that had been standing under a dark cloth on the table at the side of the room where I had positioned it on my return from North London. The two girls both looked with concern at the device. Their concern increased as I produced the two sets of rubber straps with their brass studs that were to be applied to their persons. The first strap circles the waist, the second bisects the crotch such that it passes over the sexually sensitive parts. The four brass studs on each crotch strap were positioned to deliver shocks where they would most contribute to a progressively building state of sexual tension. Two sat either side of the vaginal opening, pressing against the natural moistness of the labial lips, a third sat just above them directly over the clitoral hood, while the fourth, at the rear, sat just by the bud of each girls anus. The girls took no steps to struggle as I fastened the first straps, first Estelle and then Amanda, so that they fitted snugly around each girls waist. I tightened them and then took the second strap down across their sex and up between the buttocks to join the waist band again behind them. Estelle became agitated when she saw I intended to take wires from the machine and join them to four brass connectors on the belt and tried to avoid me but, pulled up on tip toe as she was, she could do little to resist. Amanda did nothing to resist but looked on in evident trepidation.

The machine had a small steam engine powered by a simple spirit burner. A drive belt from this engine was connected to a small generator that could charge a voltaic cell. It also drove a pulley on a small box containing a series of cams, gears and contacts that conspired to deliver short doses of electrostatic energy in a predetermined sequence and intensity to each of the leads attached to the belts that the girls wore. A small discharge tube connected to each outgoing line provided me with a visual confirmation of the power and frequency of the shocks.

Wishing to be confident that the device would run for some time on this initial use, I checked the water in the small steam engines boiler. I lit the burner. The sharp tang of the matchs smell and the softer scent of methylated spirits hung momentarily in the air of the cellar. The girls, evidently concerned by what was in prospect, began to struggle but the height at which their hands were held over their heads meant they could not get purchase on the floor with their feet. The small steam engine hissed quietly as it attained pressure. A flick of the finger on the generators flywheel was all that was needed to bring the machine into operation.

The first flash in one of the discharge tubes was accompanied by an immediate response from Estelle as she gasped with surprise at the shock from the belt. Amandas first shock followed a moment later.

I must confess to enjoying voyeuristic pleasures. I would rather go to a concert than play the piano, study a landscape painting rather than set up canvas and easel. The tableau presented was a fascinating one: the hissing and ticking of the steam generator; the smell of the steam and oil in the confines of the basement; the clicking from the box of gears, cams and contacts; the flashes from the discharge tubes and the accompanying bucking and muffled moaning of my naked guests as each shock jerked them in their bondage. Together the combination of ingenious invention, skilled engineering and the human response delighted all of the senses.

Amanda and Estelle twitched and twisted with each shock but, as the administration of shocks took on a consistent rhythm, the bucking gave way to a swaying and soon I could see that the girls were anticipating each shock, tensing themselves and thrusting their hips backwards.

It was while the two of them were lost in the stimulation provided by the electrical discharge tubes that I began to explain to them how their training would progress. I told them of how they would be required to act as servants in the household, acquiring the essential skills of housekeeping that they would need to either carry out or oversee as wives. I told them of how the errors that they would no doubt make would be rewarded with beatings and confinement and how they would come in time to crave this attention and the pain it brought. By now, their state of sexual arousal was such that they could only demonstrate how right I was by begging me for such treatment and more. They would, I told them, learn how to be the perfect hostess; how to take the role of the supportive wife, promoting the interests of their husbands; how to submerge their own interests and desires in pursuit of the success of their husbands in their chosen careers. They would be prepared for every sexual act short of vaginal penetration that their husband might wish them to indulge in. They would also, I told them, accept the choice of husband that their guardian and I would arrange.

This last piece of information I provided as the machine drove the two girls to an electrically stimulated climax. The distraction provided by the shocks combined with the disturbance to their mental state accorded by the extreme sensations of arousal left them yelping into their gags in such a way that I could tell they were begging me to make it so.

In this conversation, I felt like an orchestral conductor or choreographer of my students desires. At first I thought it most closely resembled the latter. I admire the skill of the dance master. The work of Diaghilev, for example, astounds and delights. His wondrous collaborations with Dante Gabriel Rosetti on the Blessed Damozel, presented at the Covent Garden Arena, was one of the highlights of last seasons cultural milieu. The set designs by Mr Hunt and the costumes by Mr Whistler quite rivalled anything that has been seen in St Petersburg, I am assured by those that have travelled in the Franco-Russian colonies. On further reflection, though, I determined on the role of orchestrator and conductor as the more descriptive one. My task is to encourage my students to get the very best from the instrument that they carry, like a cellist, between their legs.


© Freddie Clegg 2012


Review This Story || Author: Freddie Clegg
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