I had always been fair with new boys.  Some were older.  Some were as young as 23, but all of them had never experienced total female supremacy like this.  We wanted to give the new ones a designation appropriate for a biological male who was experiencing a new situation.  Virgin seemed to indicate that sex was imminent, and that was certainly not the case.  We played with sissy, but that would indicate a boy who wanted to be a female.  We liked to think of them as boys - lowly, cowering boys.

Even the ones that though they knew what they were getting into were often shocked in the first few days.  They'd plead.  They'd explain how they have made a mistake, but it was too late.  Once you washed up at my house, you've committed to my rules.  There was a way out, but it was choice, a commitment really, that few could take.  If you came into my house a boy, you could leave, but what made you a boy had to stay.  I owned that part of you, because it was something you were too weak to control.  If you couldn't master it, I would master it for you.

Boy #23 was a unique choice and not a volunteer.  One of my most respected ropers, Amanda, brought him in.  Ropers were gorgeous  young women who had accepted my philosophy of male sex inferiority.  Eventually, after coming to a few of my sessions, I would asked them if they wanted to put thought into action.  Would they like to take part in converting boys into something more useful and in line with needs of THE superior female?  Some shied away.  I would discuss some of our methods.  "That's barbaric," one promising pupil said before leaving.  Not Amanda, her beautiful eyes light up when I discussed the process.

Some ropers specialized in college bars or country concerts.  Amanda went for hotel bars in the business district of San Francisco.  Married men on business would go to the hotel bar at night looking for what I can assure is not friendly female companionship.  She would strike up a conversation, which meant showing off her beautiful body, and they would come running, eager to cheat and hungry for some transgressive San Francisco fun. 

The first step of my philosophy is capturing the weak males.  Bending a strong man to your will is extremely exciting.  To see a strong man marching in mental lockstep with you, convinced he has changed from an alpha male to a inferior sub-male is a huge victory for women - but it is a personal victory.  We want a larger victory over boys.  We want something that goes in history books: Pre-female supremacy and post-female supremacy.  Ideally, we want boys crawling on their hands in knees in humblers with their balls exposed for immediate correction.  That means victory in numbers as opposed to personal fulfillment, hence herding weak boys emerged as a strategy.

Amanda saw Boy #23 at the Sofitel.  He was at the bar taking off his wedding ring.  Amanda was taught to see weak characters and pounce.  She flirted and suggest they go to his room.  The boy was interested but held back.  We teach ropers to do a few things in that situation.  First, assess his again.  Is he a boy that will be easily broken?  What will break first, his balls or will?  Second, see if he responds to female supremacy.  Amanda took a second and looked him over.  She asked,  "Would you do me a favor?"  "What?" he responded.  Amanda locked eyes with him and in a commanding voice, "Go across the street to American Apparel and buy me a pair of panties".  Amanda told me he was absolutely dumb struck, and she thought he was not going to comply.  He asked, "Why?"  Amanda leaned into his ear and whispered, "because you want to."  The boy got up from his seat and left.  She didn't know if he was going to bed or taking her direction.  After 20 minutes, Amanda told me that she was less than hopeful.  Then, she felt a tap on her shoulder.  The boy was back and holding a shopping bag.  "I didn't know which one you would like," he started, "so I bought you a few."  "Let's go to your room," she commanded.  As the boy walked in front, Amanda got on her phone and texted me.  I looked at my phone: "I got a boy.  Ready to go."

I called my San Francisco team, and they sprung into action.  Amanda got the boy in his room and told him to strip.  Boys aren't allowed to see any female nudity.  Women should never be exposed to men like that, but Amanda had little choice.  She took off her bra.  When the boy came closer, she command, "Kneel!"  Amanda told me he hesitated.  If you are married and someone can embarrass you into buying them under ware, make you strip, and kneel within an hour of meeting, you have no power and are the weaker sex. 

The roper then hogties the boy and stuffs his mouth.  Amanda used the panties he just bought, which I thought was an ironic touch.  You thought these panties were getting you laid; now, they being shoved inside your mouth.  To give him some sense of what is happening, the roper is instructed to start the "transition" with the boy watching.  No blindfolds or hearing impairment.  He is bound on the floor of a hotel, moments away from what he thought would be a great sexual encounter.  He is naked and probably confused.  I wish I had a machine that could read thoughts at that moment.  The moment when his cock is raging hard then panties are filling his mouth.  The moment when Amanda goes from seductress to master.  Knowing her, she probably took a breath and put her bra back on.  She probably looked down on the boy waiting to see the moment when he knows he is in trouble.  She really likes to toy with her prey.  She always asks me later when the boy is on the compound, "Want to know when his raging cock went limp?"

"This is going to hurt," she mentions casually.  The boy crumbles up expecting a blow.  "No honey, that's later," she says.  She grabs the phone and starts scrolling.  "Your wife's name is …", she teases.  The boy's eyes grow.  Amanda guesses, "Susan?".   He shakes his head.  "Oh yeah, definitely susie," she laughs, "keep still now".  The ropers take a picture of the boy and send it to wives or girlfriends or even boyfriends these days.  We call this the "before" picture.  What follows is a painful phone call.  We tell the significant other about what happened and about the our group.  All of this is done right in front of the boy to establish control.  We then instruct ropers to go into another room, give details about the program, and ask for permission to take the boy.  Surprisingly, most people release the boy to us.  As in this case, some want a final word.  Amanda recounted that the wife in this situation was indignant and was "excited at the thought of you learning your place".  The boy cried as my San Francisco pickup team arrived in the room.

Jane, our most seasoned pickup specialist, stood over the boy.  "Off all the ropers, you can always make them cry," Jane told Amanda.  Amanda laughed, "his wife did that!"  Jane, pushing the joking aside, "let's prep him for travel."  A hood was put over his head.  Jane asked, "do you want the honors, Amanda?"  Amanda put on a pair of latex gloves, "my pleasure".  The trip back to our compound is long, and we want a way to control the boy with punishment if he acts up.  We tried different things, but one tool worked exceeding well: electricity.  Jane spread the boys cheeks.  Amanda got what we call the 'metal bull' out of the case.  It is about the size of a soft drink can and stainless steel.  There are electrodes built inside and hooked up to an external battery that is normally used to control cattle.  When it is engaged, it is not pleasant - especially where we are about to put it.  Jane spits into the boy's asshole.  A new team member asked, "is that enough?", which drew a chuckle from the girls.  Amanda starts working the tip of the bull into the boy's tight hole.  "Move it at different angles," Jane suggest.  Later the girls would tell me that he'll need stretching, because he is too tight.  We like to keep the boys' assholes limber as that area is key for establishing dominant relationships.  His hole starts to open up, swallowing the bull.  The boy is squirming and yelling into his panty gag.  Amanda barks, "Hold him down."  The girls sit on the boy.  Once the bull is started, there is no stopping him.  He just sinks in deeper and deeper whether the subject likes it or not.  Amanda uses a little force as the beautiful thick shaft invades the boy.  The boy's asshole rest on the hilt of our little metal stud.  The moaning stops, then Jane gives the all clear signal.  The girls get off of him.  He continues to breath a sigh of relief when suddenly Jane test the system.  The electric causes a spasm inside the boy's cute little ass.  When this happens, the #23 did an interesting thing, he got on his knees into the doggy style position.  The girls all laughed when he did.  "He must like the bull," a pickup girl howls.  "Aww.  He wants it doggy style!" another laughs.  For entertainment, Jane turns the device on and off.  Each time the boy's ass muscles surge and relax.  He tries to get it out, which only makes it go deeper.  Jane grabs his throat and threatens, "If you cause a scene during the ride to your new home, the bull is getting turned on for 1 minute … nod if you understand."  The boy nods.  I get a text that he is on the way.

A day later, I can see the Chevy Tahoe with Boy #23 roll up to the gates of my estate.  The Tahoe enters the grounds, and I watch the girls collar the boy and bring him into the main house.  The boy is lead into the basement, which is a dungeon of the highest caliber.  No so much medieval as functional.  Plenty of places to suspend a new prospect.  Plenty of hoods, gags, and body restraints.  When someone enters, we want to reinforce what I consider the ultimate motivation.  On the walls, we have some paintings I found at an old mansion owed by my mentor, Mistress Black, of a surgeon performing circumcision.  Another painting is an old Italian portrait of a demon pulling a man to hell by his balls.  We have some videos of men being kicked in the balls after disobeying an order that play to keep the place somewhat modern.  The focus is unequivocally on the subjects sex organs, but the meaning is left ambiguous for a reason.  I try to re-enforce this message upon first meeting a new member with a story.

I want to establish that I'm the one in charge, so I always have a few girls make a show of it before I meet a new boy.  I had Boy #23 tied to a cross.  The cross has a wooden rod that comes out just below the butt.  The cock and balls of the subject are secured to the rod.  He is still panty gaged but not blindfolded.  This is how I prefer to be introduced.  Me, in all of my regalia, and the boy secured and humiliated.  I have the girls announce me in the room.  I walk in with my best leather.  Before they leave, I have the best girl threaten the boy, "Disrespect of her will be meant with the most severe punishment."

Alone with him, I pace with my loud heels striking the pavement.  I notice that the girls haven't taken out the bull, and it is still lodged deep in his ass with the wires take off.  I've debated taking it out or leaving it, but at this point, it is the girl's decision.  Some girls say that men should be penetrated at all times to remind them of their place.  Some girls say it sends the message that penetration is bad, which is problematic for women who like sex.  I say that all boys should expect to get strap-on fucked during their first sexual encounter, while women still have a very easy power of boys.  A beautiful 18 year old girl can have as much power as many men, so we should use this power to start men down the right path.  You want to fuck me then quid pro quo, little boy.

My goal is to confuse and frustrate.  Future sex partner?  Friend?  Sadist?  All of these thoughts should enter his mind and be put their by me.  "I have to tell you a cautionary story," I announce, "I tell all boys this story."  "If you think that this place is voluntary," I feel his body, " you are mistaken."  Boy #23 has a marvelous body.  I feel his chest and put my head to his heart.  He reminds me of what I like about men.  His abs are showing a little.  I feel his hairy thighs, and my hands go behind him to his buttocks.  I feel the bull.  "Oh my," I laugh, "your still, uh, occupied, huh?"  He sighs.  "What's wrong," I ask.  "I'm a beautiful women and I'm touching you," I tell him.  "You are extremely good looking," I tell him.  "I don't think you are any less of a man for having the bull in your ass," I reassure him as I brush his chest.  "When I was a little girl, my mother owned a cattle farm," I continue, "in the spring, we'd have new calves."  I rub his chest.  "We'd let the girl calves be with the mothers, but the boys would be pulled from their mothers," I said.  "She taught me how to castrate them," I say.  My hands feel down his body and untie his cock.  It is not hard to say the least, so I give him some help.  My hands finger his head and start sliding up and down slowly.  "They'd squirm a little when I put the rubber band around their balls," I say.  He is starting to breath a little heavier, but I can see his eyes are growing as I tell the story.  "It is really small band that cuts off the blood flow to their little nuts," I smile.  "It doesn't actually hurt that much," I continue.  "Why isn't your cock getting hard?" I ask.  "Is it my story?" I ask.  "Make no mistake, I'm your superior right now, and I'm giving you a hand job," I informed him.  "Story or not, it is disrespectful to not be rock hard," I sneer.  "Have it hard by the end of my story," I command and continue to stroke his cock, but this time I give his balls a smack.  He winces, and I can see him struggle to maintain any thoughts - let alone staying hard.  "So, one time a bull had to be castrated," I tell him.  "His balls were too big for bands, so I had to take them manually," I continue.  His cock is starting to harden up.  "It would be in your best interest to NOT cum," I state.  "So, my mom had the farm hands tie down this 600 pound beautiful, strong beast.  I take his ball sack in my hands and cut it open.  I grabbed his huge balls, cut them off at the cord, then cauterized them," I told him.  Turned on by my hands, he was fully erect, but his ears were hearing a different message.  I felt his balls.  "Want to know something really screwed up?" I asked.  He shook his head.  "We had a border collie on the farm, and he was sniffing around while I clipping the bull," I mused.  I grab him by the hair and bring him eye to eye.  "So, I throw the bull's balls to the dog," I laugh.  "Then he ate them right in front of the bull," I say.  "I watched as the bull watched is balls being destroyed," I mention.  "I masturbated to it later," I whisper.

"Your cock is hard," I observed.  "That story turn you on?" I laugh.  "That bull was panting like you are now and you still have yours," I mused.  I could see he was getting the message.  I was in charge.  What he wanted was of no concern to me.  His personal boundaries were meaningless if my satisfaction was in contention with them.

"I'll tell you what: I'll give you a reward since you've been good so far," I told him.  I unroped him and his cock and led him to a bed on the floor.  He was lying spread eagle, cock up position.  I put a dentist gag to hold his mouth open and chain him down.  "Diane!" I yelled.  A beautiful 24-year old, blonde dressed in a latex skirt with a tight body and huge tits enters.  "Yes, ma'am," she salutes.  Diane was a special women.  She had been abused by her dad, so she developed a two-faced persona.  She is charming on the outside but internally … well, you'll find out.  "Boy #23 needs a reward.  Would you please give him one?" I ask.  Diane walks over to the boy and blindfolds him.  She takes off her skirt, revealing a dripping wet pussy.  She climbs on top of the bed, face to face with the boy.  "Hey, you are in for something special, right now, so enjoy it," she says in her teenager like voice.  Diane has huge pussy lips.  When she puts it on the boy's cock is almost envelopes the whole thing.  It is like getting fucked without it going inside.  She grinds her pussy on his cock.  Her moist juice getting him even harder, and his cock disappearing for a second.  "Someone wasn't expecting that," she says.  I look on from a chair in the corner waiting for the twist.  "Before I FUCK you, I'm gonna need to put my pussy in your face," she whispers.  #23 struggles in his restraints.  A drop of precum appears on the tip of his cock.  He nods his head ferociously.  "Just remember, these are the rules: If you are good, you get a reward," she reminds him.  Diane stands up and is about to straddle his face.  "Now, I only want to see your tongue, that is why you are gagged," Diane commands.  "Let me see your tongue #23," she commands.  The boy's tongue sticks out from gag searching for her pussy.  She straddles his face, and I move in closer to watch.  Diane looks up at me and gives me the hush signal.  "Boy, do you smell my pussy?" she asks.  "Uh-hu," he mumbles through the gag.  "That is the smell of a superior women, you should be very thankful for being that close to it," she says.  "Yes," he mumbles.  "That is your reward: smelling her pussy," I inform him.  Diane stands up with.  He shakes his head.  "Aren't you going to have sex with me," he mumbles.  "What gave you that idea?" Diane asks with a grin.  "You said you'd fuck me," #23 states.  "You did say that, Diane … so fuck him," I suggest.  "You're right," she says.  Diane lowers her pussy near the mouth gag.  "This is me fucking you," she sneers.  A yellow stream of piss enters the boy's mouth.  Before he can spit it out, I hold his mouth shut.  "Swallow," I command.  "Drink her piss with pride," I yelp.  He swallows.  "If you think your cock is getting inside a pussy ever again," Diane says, "then consider this your reality check." 

This is our ritual.  We find that new subjects are in such shock, that you have to start with the lowest level of communication and reinforce it five fold.  Drinking our piss is humiliating, but it is also about dominance.  It is simple.  If you are being pissed on, you are not the superior person in the relationship.  I inform the boy about my thoughts, and he shakes his head.  He has resisted us to this point, so I have to give him a test.  Diane puts on her panties, so the boy can take off the blindfold.  "Open the door, please," I ask Diane.  She opens the door and ten of my girls enter the room.  I turn to the boy.  I ask him, "Do you see all of these superior women?"  "Yes - Yes, ma'am," he stammers.  "They are all going to do what Diane just did to you," I inform him.  He starts to plead.  "Shut up, this is going to happen," I tell him.  "If I have to gag you, then it means you are not ready to accept your place yet," I tell him.  All the girls look on and start to mill around him like wolves.  Whispers give way to muffled laughs.  I can hear "cheater" and "chop off his nuts" being thrown around.  "If I don't gag you, it means you are willingly taking their essence voluntarily," I tell him.  I ask him, "Which will it be?"  Unbeknownst to #23, one of girls has a bander for castrating cattle.  If he gives the wrong answer, he'll lose one of his balls right now.  We try to give people second chances.  "No.  No gag," he stammers.  The room is let down as they wanted to see a partial castration tonight.  But to lift their spirits, the girls line up and one by one they take turns.  One sprays all over his face.  One spits in his mouth after she is done with him.  They are all cheering and laughing as he gets soaked.  Later, at dinner, the girls are all chattering about the nights events.  One asks me, "Do you think boy #23 will keep his balls?"  I think about for a second.  "I hope not," I huff.