The Director leads me to a cavernous room. It is dark and ominous compared to the main chamber.
“Sensory deprivation is key to the initial process of subjugation, Doctor. 1567 will soon find himself here with Amanda beginning the extensive interview process. As stated, we will elicit his deepest fears and phobias. He’ll tell Amanda everything we’ll need to know to turn him into an obedient, groveling subjugant, responding to every command and whim of the dominant female.”
Before us is a counter top with a large aquarium behind it. A thick wall of glass, or most likely specially made clear plastic, holds back the thousands of gallons of water. The depth of the tank is well over my head and, as expected, a human form can easily be completely immersed into it. Cables and tubes hang from the ceiling above. To the side of the counter top is an electronic control panel, which includes a microphone and headset.
“The subject is intubated for both oxygen and nutrition. Watertight headphones are attached, then he’s lowered into the tank. After immersion, a special chemical is added which turns the water to gel, making any motion almost impossible. Then he just floats. Hours and hours. Amanda will begin her psychological dominance, speaking to him through the headphones. The words are well scripted and carefully selected. The helpless, male subject listens. It is all he can do. And with his complete immobility and isolation the comprehension is complete. Every word Amanda utters will echo into the deepest recesses of his mind. He has no choice but to listen. When finished, Amanda will be viewed with adulation and authority, and he’ll be ready to tell her everything she wants to know.
“And as discussed, we concentrate on the phobias..., his deepest fears. We learn them all and record them in his permanent record.”
We proceed to into another room. It is incredibly dark until the Director flips a light switch. Banks of electronic gear appear. The room resembles a recording studio with wires, gauges, switches, etc., everywhere. A large padded couch occupies the center. Nylon straps give it a diabolical pretense.
“And here is where the subject experiences his worst fears. You’ve probably seen one of these in the movies or on television. Rather advanced electronics. But we’ve learned to use it well.”
The Director holds a helmet with what appear to be large goggles. Yes, I have seen such a device. It is an individualized video monitor. Worn over the head and replete with stereo sound, it replicates and projects in incredibly stunning detail video and audio recordings. The experience encountered by the wearer is as close to reality as conceivable.
“We have developed a huge archive of film. At the behest of his behavior specialist, we can put a subject through his worst nightmare. And she is always there to rescue him, psychologically speaking. It ingrains dependence on the female trainer, which leads to obedience and over time complete subjugation. Works well on adolescent males. We have limited experience with adults.”
A very technical discussion follows, and I am impressed with the Director. She is young but very knowledgeable in this area of specialty. After several minutes, she curtails our conversation and guides me back to the sensory deprivation room.
“1532 should be nicely ripe, Doctor.”
Yes. How could I forget?
We return to the main chamber. Almost every specialist has suspended her duties and has gathered about the spit and the supreme masturbatrix.
Nancy has switched off the motor and 1532 lies supine, knees pulled well up and spread, head tilted downward with the slope of the rod. She is aggressively massaging his testicles and the long, glistening, scrotal sac. She speaks as she works providing the younger specialists with an interesting lecture on the male anatomy.
“Never overlook the scrotum, ladies. And here, leading to the testicles, are some nerve endings that deserve special attention.”
She kneads the sac with the lubricated, gloved thumb and forefinger of her right hand. The fingers of her left manipulate the anus from below the rod.
“He’s been stretched and well lubricated here. But it’s best to penetrate slowly. Build the anticipation and the fluids will build even more. And always remember, it’s yours to take as you please. The subject cannot and will not ejaculate until you wish.”
1532 helplessly looks up at the stern, authoritative woman. Helga sits on a small stool and gently smoothes her hand over his forehead, whispering more words of apparent comfort. The massive, purple erection points straight up. Although it is one of the largest I have seen, the specialists are jaded by its length and girth. Every day they see the largest penises in Europe, and their attention is more riveted to Nancy’s actions than the impressive, male phallus.
“Waggle for me.”
Spoken as more of a command than request, Nancy demands response and feedback from her subject. I cannot help thinking that it is the only part of 1532's anatomy that he can move, except perhaps some minor muscle contraction in the scrotum.
But 1532 obediently complies and the gaggle of specialists giggle when the massive manhood indeed begins to move.
“You see how much he wants to experience the firm grip of my fingers, ladies. He’s willing to completely humiliate himself to obtain the few moments of male gratification.”
Nancy begins to impale the young rectum with the fingers of her left hand. The lad is amazingly open and seems to draw in the feminine digits. Nancy smiles. She recognizes complete subjugation, and her confident look evidences her subtle satisfaction.
“You have quite the scamp here, Helga. He’s a natural for the strap on.”
After moments of silence, with Nancy and 1532 communicating with their eyes, the gloved left hand disappears.
“Oh, yes, nicely swollen and ready to squirt for us. Miss Nancy is going to drain you completely. You’d like that wouldn’t you?”
She is evidently feeling the underutilized prostate of a young male in his sexual prime. Her right hand reaches under the scrotum and manipulates the perineum. The double pressure on the prostate must be incredible, I think to myself, but the flow of pre-ejaculatory fluid ceases.
“I have the middle finger of my left hand squarely pressed against the urethra, ladies. Our young subject cannot expel any fluids until I am ready.”
The specialists smile and marvel at the control and confident experience, which the supreme masturbatrix applies to her trade.
“Now. What are we going to do with this?”
All laugh as her right hand finds the enormous, powerful shaft, helplessly standing with its functions usurped by the single digit of a dominant female.
“From this point, the timing is mine, ladies. He can be stroked, pulled, massaged, caressed, manipulated, kneaded, all day. The need to ejaculate will overwhelm his thoughts. He’d walk through fire for me right now. All to achieve an orgasm. But it’s mine to decide when and how.”
It is not often that I wish a camera was available during my escapades. But this is one of those few times. To see the young specialists completely absorbed by the lecture and 1532 helplessly restrained, waiting in complete humiliation until his masturbatrix decides on the timing of relief, is one powerful scenario of female control that cannot be described with the written word.
I wonder what 1532 would offer, given the chance to speak, in order to be allowed to complete his humiliation by squirting his seed for the crowd of women. I hazard to guess it would be everything he owned. But alas, Dr. L------ already owns all he has. Therefore it is his lot to lie helplessly restrained and suspended while Nancy plies her craft. He can not even offer a symbol of protest or resistance.
Miss Nancy continues her lecture, pointing out many little known erogenous areas of the male. Explaining the functions of the prostate, ampulla, seminal vessels, erectile chambers including, as an aside, how certain dominant, Asian women pay many dollars to have such chambers truncated in males deemed suitable only for oral service.
“It serves to greatly focus the oral subjugant on his prime duties,” was Miss Nancy’s casual remark, as the young speci
alists smile with the thought of a male’s proudest organ being shortened at the behest of a dominant female.
After several minutes of apparent internal massage by Miss Nancy’s penetrating hand and fingers, she announces the release of some pre-ejaculatory fluid. Right on cue, the clear, viscous substance slowly oozes from the purple tip, Miss Nancy evidently momentarily removing her finger from the urethra.
“I think he’s ready, ladies. We’ll drain him completely. Helga, better use a large specimen dish.”
Helga dutifully places a clear glass dish on the floor then positions herself standing over the head of 1532.
“Turn slowly. I want him face down.”
Helga gently places her hands on the shoulders of 1532. Miss Nancy removes her right hand and repositions herself. Her left is still penetrating the helpless male’s backside. Helga pushes down on the left shoulder, pulls up on the right and the suspended 1532 slowly turns on the spit.
“By keeping my hand steady while he turns, this young man is getting quite the prostate massage. I’m going to hold him off a little longer. I think you’ll be impressed with the results.”
As the spit turns 180 degrees, Miss Nancy maintains her penetration. But as 1532 faces downward, her right hand returns and palms the massive, erect shaft, forcing it downward toward the anus.
“With the erect penis in this position, ladies, it is impossible for the male to ejaculate. Helga will rock him a little, the pressure will build and when I want him to squirt, he’ll explode for us.”
Helga slowly twists the spit. A quarter turn clockwise. A quarter turn counter clockwise. Miss Nancy holds her hand in place. 1532's prostate is receiving incredible pressure, and I stoop to see that the young male’s eyes are popping from his head.
The coordination between Helga and Miss Nancy is impressive. She wordlessly twists the spit. Miss Nancy smiles, feeling the swollen gland and occasionally announcing to the viewing audience the futile attempts of the male anatomy to expel its seed without the permission of the controlling, female hand. She can evidently feel the ejaculatory muscles contracting.
Perhaps it is pity, perhaps Miss Nancy just feels the timing is right. I can assure the reader 1532 had nothing to do with the decision. But finally after many, many slow half twists of the spit, the most skilled masturbatrix releases the erect penis. It promptly salutes by righting itself and within seconds explodes in the most amazing ejaculation of thick, creamy sperm. It splatters into the dish. Then a second. Then a third.
His audience applauds and laughs. No one had stroked or touched the erect shaft. Miss Nancy controlled the process through her hand penetrating the anus and massaging the various male glands.
After the dramatic climax, Helga continues with very slight twists and Miss Nancy works her left hand. The dish slowly fills and Miss Nancy’s final act is to squeeze the base of the shaft between thumb and forefinger then slowly draw it down toward the tip and the waiting dish. One last glob drips into the dish.
She slowly withdraws her hand and steps away.
“He’ll be too worn to walk back to his cage, Helga. But he can crawl. I suggest leashing him for effect.”
The exhibition ends with Helga carefully removing the specimen dish. Dr. L------ and I move onward as the specialists return to their duties.
I ask many operational questions as we depart the large, deep basement. Dr. L------ will not reveal the revenue of the clinic but indicates the consortium of owners is quite satisfied with the financial results. It seems that certain small European countries have contracted with the clinic to take their most troubled youths. Thus, in addition to the sale of subjugated youths, the clinic actually derives revenue from their initial acceptance, keeping the budgets of many governments free from the recurring expense of the long-term incarceration of delinquent youths.
As the large elevator grinds its way to the surface, I ponder whether a juvenile contemplating a life of petty crime would ever consider such endeavors if he were first afforded the tour that I have had and thereby fully understood his ultimate fate.
“And of course there’s our rehabilitation services. Not overly lucrative but helps pay the overhead and keeps our specialists challenged.”
Dr. L------’s comment tugs my mind back to our conversation. We are again traversing the first floor office where meek men are assiduously typing, keeping books, and busying themselves with assorted clerical duties.
I fish for more, not wishing to appear unknowledgeable, but my curiosity is piqued since it was mentioned at the start of our journey but I had no opportunity to learn more.
“I apologize, Doctor. I thought you were aware of that branch of our services. Mrs. W----- had anticipated the need and visualized its development. It was a simple matter for me to implement.”
She pauses as the main elevator arrives to return us to the fourth floor. We step in and the doors silently close.
“Since the clinic has been training subjugants for nearly twenty years, Mrs. W----- realized that over time the roles the young submissives were fulfilling would be difficult to maintain with maturity. Most dominant women prefer youth, and although an argument can be made that the tongue becomes more tactile with age, there remains a tendency to seek younger flesh.”
We arrive at the fourth floor and step out.
“So the question was posed, what would happen to our older protégés? Mrs. W----- understood the need for males to perform menial tasks both within the clinic and the village. And she also realized that after completing years of service to the Dominant female, our typical protégé is in his early thirties, unskilled with regard to employment, uneducated, malleable and incredibly submissive.
“He also needs occasional correction and to some degree rehabilitation. You’d be amazed at the initial reaction to wearing clothing after years of completely naked servitude.”
Dr. L------ smiles with her observation. And I suppose it would indeed be like getting a dog to wear the garments one sees in colder cities, there being a natural aversion to such covering.
“I believe we have Mr. M---- in room 6 this morning. Perhaps you would like to observe?”
How could I decline? After all, the purpose of my sabbatical was to study D/s relationships. I wordlessly nod a response not wishing to appear over eager, and Dr. L------ leads the way to room six. The red light over the door forewarns those wearing the control ring of pending pain should they attempt entry or exit. Dr. L------’s index finger quickly taps the required code into the key pad. A discernible click indicates that the door unlocks.
“A precaution against straying casual visitors. The doors can be opened from the inside. The control ring inhibits exit by the patient.”
With her comment she turns the knob, pulls the door outward into the hallway and props it against the wall. It remains open.
“It’s easier to observe from here. The Specialist needs her space.”
Her words fade as my attention turns to the room and its occupants. It is larger than suggested by the simple doorway and remarkably similar to Lady Constance’s special room for Boy. A tiled floor bevels to a drain in the center. Similarly tiled walls are cluttered with hanging paraphernalia, which can only be described as a combination of medical devices, restraint gear, and evilly crafted artifacts the usefulness of which is left to the diabolical imagination.
Kneeling on the hard floor is the naked Mr. M----. His arms are secured behind him in a single leather glove. His Specialist has evidently cinched his elbows together judging from the thrust forward chest and the tears of pain rolling down his cheeks. He is erect and appears to be humbly offering his appendage to his antagonist. A bowl sits on the floor before him.
A uniformed Behavior Specialist stands over him with her back toward us. Her hands are on her hips in a most commanding pose. When she hears Dr. L------’s voice, she turns her head to look at us.
“Don’t mind us, Veronica. The Doctor is here to observe.”
Veronica is an imposing woman
. Older than most of the Specialists, she is a tall and in her thirties. Her brown hair is short and a traditional nurse’s cap covers most of it. She wears no make-up, but it cannot be concluded that such a feminine diversion would improve her rugged appearance, for her strong facial features radiate a confidence which makes one comfortable with her “in charge” presence.
Mr. M---- continues to look up at her as she acknowledges Dr. L------ and nods to me.
“He continues to eat out of a dog bowl, Doctor. His Mistress wishes to domesticate him a little better.”
My eyes move to forearms that are strong and lead downward to hands of steel. Fingers of strength end with plainly clipped nails without polish. The starched, white uniform evidences firm buttocks in proportion to her height and athletic calves complete the silhouette of a demanding, physically able woman.
“He will be reluctant to use it after today.”
Veronica moves to a sink and fills a very large glass with water. Doctor L---- explains the reference.
“Mr. M---- came through the clinic about twelve years ago and was sold to the wife of drug lord in South America. She trained him as a dog, an apparently appropriate amusement when spending much time in a secluded but luxurious home in the thick jungle. With no one to moderate her proclivities except her brutal husband and his guards, I understand her training was quite harsh but effective. After Mr. M---- matured, she sent him back, and we replaced him with one of our younger protégés. Mr. M---- has been in rehabilitation here and living with a local village woman serving as her handyman. Occasionally his behavior reverts. Thus a visit here.”
As Dr. L------ explains, Veronica pulls back Mr. M----’s head and pours water into his mouth. He drinks with her command, and she returns to the sink for another glass.
“You can imagine the daily regimen she put him through. Crawling about at the end of a leash. Eating from a bowl. Trained to relieve himself only after a walk through the garden and under her strict supervision. And I understand her husband permitted extensive use of his tongue, and his Mistress trained him to provide much pleasure...,” Dr. L------’s suggestive comments hang, as I watch Veronica ply her trade. A third glass is imbibed, a little slower, but there is no doubt concerning who is in charge and that Mr. M---- will drink until Veronica is satisfied. A fourth glass demonstrates such, and Veronica returns the glass to the sink.
The Constancia Compendium Page 12