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<pre>
 Subject: STORY "Images 24" (NC, extreme cruelty, Long)



My "Images" (a term I stole from Suki) are short ideas, images,
and sketches.   They are generally cruel and nonconsensual and 
of interest only to sickphuxs, so please read no further if such 
doesn't appeal to you.

The Images are impurely the products of a warped imagination, and
should not be seen as a reflection of the scene, nor should they be 
imitated by anyone not interested in a protracted term as the ward 
of the state.

Steven S. Davis

---------------------------------------------------------





******************************************
Some excerpts from email.

I've been having a correspodence with a bisexual 
female sadist who is considering the vanilla life.
She's also been having some fantasies about the BDSM 
community kidnapping her to stop her from doing such
a thing.  I've shared some thoughts with her along those
lines.

What follows is a chopped up excerpt of my last email to her.
This is just stuff pertaining to the fantasy.  It may perhaps
amuse.


----------
 
  [ regarding her recent purchase of a white and chaste
    nightgown ]

&gt; &gt;But what
&gt; &gt;first came to my mind was wetting the white fabric so it clung
&gt; &gt;and revealed.  With someone else my old favorite firehose would
&gt; &gt;spring to mind, but I don't think that would be good for you
&gt; &gt;(at least not at the beginning; first try seducing you, then
&gt; &gt;break you if that doesn't work).  But I want my firehose !
&gt; &gt;So, OK.  We bring in a group of sexy slave chicks and require them
&gt; &gt;to dance and shimmy while they get out of their clothes, then
&gt; &gt;knock them around with the firehouse till they are dripping
&gt; &gt;wet all over, then have them come to you and embrace you and rub
&gt; &gt;against you and lay and roll atop you and return to be beaten
&gt; &gt;by the forehose some more and then come back to you, till your
&gt; &gt;gown is quite wet and pressed against you and stuck in all the
&gt; &gt;right places (where it was helped by the slavegirls' hands).

[snip]

&gt; &gt;One of these days I do need to write up my "Wedding Massacre"
&gt; &gt;fantasy.
&gt; &gt;
&gt; &gt;Though that doesn't really address your point, since the bride
&gt; &gt;(radiant in white gown and red ropes) doesn't do anything
&gt; &gt;except sit and watch as the rest of the wedding party and guests
&gt; &gt;are put through all sorts of perversions (priest included).
&gt; &gt;
&gt; &gt;But watching your mother fuck your husband (we don't attack
&gt; &gt;till the "I now pronounce you" part  (but we do attack before
&gt; &gt;man and wife can kiss)) might qualify as sick and twisted.

[snip]


&gt; &gt;&gt; &gt;Hmmm, wiring up your naked body with electrodes and an adapted
&gt; &gt;&gt; &gt;polygraph (one with an additional measure of galvanic skin
&gt; &gt;&gt; &gt;response across the pussy) and showing you pictures of men and
&gt; &gt;&gt; &gt;women having vanilla sex and applying electric shocks (the hotter
&gt; &gt;&gt; &gt;the pictures the hotter the shocks) in order to help wean
&gt; &gt;&gt; &gt;you (ah, yes, there wiill be electricity across your nipples)
&gt; &gt;&gt; &gt;from vanilla interests.

[snip]

 [secured as for a gynecological exam stuff]

Might I suggest a bunson burner placed in your sight along with
several pen knives, and removing your blindfold long enough so
you can see them and see one of the blades held over the flame.
Then you are blindfolded again, and wait, while various warm,
cold, and very cold blades are touched to various parts of you,
including your labia, before a hot blade is touched to your thigh,
and then a hot blade is touched to your labia, a very small
area of contact on just one of your pussy lips, but it burns,
and then, at irregular intervals (and with some phony touches
with very cold blades), five more burns are applied to your
lower lips (three evenly spaced burns on each one).

Then whip your pussy again with a many-tailed rubber flogger.

Then fuck you.

Then open you up with a speculum, and heat up another blade.

But put the icy cold dull blade inside you.

We can always do the hot knife in your pussy later, if you
don't come around.

[snip] 


But, like I said, seduction/enticement first, torture/terror if
that doesn't work.

But I certainly like the idea of making sure you know the 
torture/terror is awaiting you if you won't allow yourself
to be seduced.  Perhaps we show you several videotapes of
other women who tried to go vanilla being horrificly tortured. 

[snip]

  [concerning her becoming a nice normal girl]

Hmmm... I'm seeing many brandings and cuttings and piercings applied 
to you, to mark your body so that no one would accept you as nice 
normal girl.  I'm seeing you being shown pictures of your face as
it will appear after the tatoos we have picked for you have been 
applied, and you being asked again and again what "normal" man or 
woman will want such a freak ?  Only us pervs will want you after 
all this is done to you.  You can stay with us by choice, or you 
stay with us because you have no choice.  It's your choice which 
way you stay with us, but you have no choice about staying with us.  
We won't let you go. Not ever.

__________________________________________________

I wrote this little idea up, then sent it to my correspondent.

----

FWIW, recently I've been toying with a new idea (well, it's
slightly new for me).  I think you might find it amusing.

First we need to get some sexy thing (female variety) in our 
clutches.  Test to confirm she's ticklish and responsive
to a vibrator; test repeatedy for certainty (if she's not
ticklish and responsive to the vibrator, go onto other plans 
for her).

Tie her down securely.

Get some rings or perhaps some thumbcuffs for her toes.  
Attach clamps to chains linked to rings on toes, and then put
clamps on her labia (leave one clamp free, for now).  Shorten 
chains (by clipping links together) till her feet are bent forwards
and the chains are taut.  Wait for awhile to allow her feet and legs 
to start hurting.

Take two sets of clover clamps.  Attached one set left earlobe
to right nipple, the other right earlobe to left nipple; make
sure the chains between the clamps are very taut.

Then alternately tickle her feet, and work on her pussy with 
a vibrator, so that either action produces a lot of squirming 
and pulling upon the clamps.  And any twisting/shaking/beating 
of her head pulls on her earlobes and nipples.

At some point, press vibrator against pussy *and* tickle feet 
mercilessly.

When she doesn't think it can get any worse, attach remaining 
loose clamp to her clit.


Now, within the context of "How to keep [CENSORED] from going
vanilla", an interesting idea would be to get a couple pretty
young girls who are just what you like (so we can work over
one till she's exhausted then switch to the other), and after
mercilessly working on them (there is, of course, no safewording
possible; they simply have to bear whatever we inflict upon
them), asking you (who have of course been participating only
only duress, having been told that you would be set astraddle
a sharpened wooden doorframe with your wrists cuffed behind
you and bent upwards and your thumbs in cuffs connected to
clamps which would be attached to your nipples, and after
astraddle the door your ankles would be chained and pulled apart
so that all your weight rested on your pussy (your hair wound be
bound above your head and fastened to an overhead hook to be
sure you stayed upright), and then after a couple hours we would
flog your breasts and cane your ass and thighs and use short
lucite rods on your shoulderblades (and after we've made all
of each shoulderblade very sore, we'd pick one spot on each 
shoulderblade and rhythmically and relentlessly strike those
two spots in alternation), and continue this until you agreed
to participate in the torture of the sexy slaves), ah, anyway,
asking you, while we have a lovely young woman squirming and 
shrieking and pleading for mercy under our merciless torments,
if you can really turn away from this.

_________________________________________________


A different correspondent mentioned having had martyrdom fantasies, 
which I found interesting, and added this to a later reply.

----

A number of them, but so far I'm especially fond of the one with 
you and &lt;X&gt; (who was foolish enough to speak in your defence when 
you were denounced) are stripped naked and hung by your chained wrists 
from opposite arms of a large standing cross, and the townpeople are 
told they must all pass by you and must each beat you (and the word is
passed that anyone seen as less fervent in the beating then his or her 
neighbors will come under suspicion (and your friends hear the whispers
which they were meant to hear, that they are already under suspicion 
and will be watched especially closely)), and so one by one one all 
the healthy men and women (and any children big enough to reach your
bare bottoms with a cane) pass by each of you and wale away on you, 
with those of your friends who are fighting back the tears hitting you
hardest (and as the people move along, the tendency is to hit you harder
and more often to try to outdo the people before and escape review by 
the authorities - a review that does come, and those not active enough 
in beating you both are given a second chance (an hour after the first 
beating ends; you continue to hang in the hot sun, of course) to beat 
you and show their faith and loyalty, and when the beatings are done,
straw and faggots will be placed around the base of the cross and set
ablaze, leaving the two throughly tenderized pieces of meat hanging
from the arms of the cross (volunteers will be requested to take
long sticks (with sharp points) and turn you both so all sides of
you roast) to cook while the stone of the cross burns and cracks
and the cross finally falls and shatters, dumping you on the ground
where no one is permitted to help you, or to interfere with the stray
dogs (the ones that were captured and starved and then released back
on the streets as the townspeople watched you roasting) as they
nose about you wondering if it can really be OK to bite into what
still look like people, but being so hungry and so afraid the others
will eat and leave them nothing, lunge forwards....

__________________________________________________________

An opening comment in an email to a femsub friend.

-----

Do you by any chance have an Ottoman in your house ?
   [ Actually, I suppose that should be ottoman, 
     as it's unlikely you have a Turkish person 
     living with you about whom I've never heard ]
If so, has your owner ever mentioned that you'd look cute
tied to it (I'm thinking belly down on ottoman, wrists
and knees tied to the legs of the ottoman, naked, of course
(well, I might slip some ankle stockings and high heels
on your feet)), with your head at one end ready for use
and your bottom vulnerable to the paddle and cane and 
your pretty legs (soft thighs also vulnerable) apart to
allow penetration of your pussy by probing fingers.


Ah, well, anyway ....

__________________________________________________________

Some silly but perhaps amusing remarks made in passing in 
another email.
 
---------

&gt; Aw, go ahead.  Lollygag.

If there is a female catcher named Lolly, she must be
absolutely sick of the jokes people make while gagging
her. ;-&gt;

Hmmm, if you stuffed a small Raggedy Ann into a woman's mouth 
before tying it in place with rope, would that be dollygagging ?


****************************************************

A thought experiment

A few thoughts for a friend, which led someplace 
interesting if hardly original (I am, of course, 
aware of the limits of "thought experiments"
as a tool of BDSM research).

-----------------

I was imagining you comfortably positioned between pillows
and happily reading one morning when your master (me, in this 
fantasy) entered, gently took the book from your hands and 
carefully laid it down, then gently removed your glasses and 
carefully laid them down - and then roughly seized your hair 
and bent your head back while quite ungently pulling you from
your bed and pushing you to your knees, and continuing to
tight grip your hair while his other hand roughly probed
your breasts before he took a cutting device, hooked it
in the front of the long T-shirt which is your only garment, 
and pulled down, cutting the shirt open down to your bosom.  
At which point he would take your arms and bring you to your 
feet and roughly direct you facefirst into a corner.  He would 
then rip off what was left of your T-shirt, and cutting it to 
strips tie several around your eyes as a blindfold and one strip 
inside your mouth.  As a gag this latter strip of your T-shirt is 
more formal than functional; it would barely obstruct your speech,
but makes it plain that this is not a prelude to a discussion.

I do quite enjoy talking to you, and have great regard for
your thoughts and opinions and for whatever you have to say.

But not now, bitch.  Now I want you to be quiet - well, I want
you to not speak - while I use your body.  While I make you my
plaything.  Right now, you're a sexy object for me to use for
my pleasure.  At this moment, that is all that you are.

And this moment is going to last for as long as I say it will 
last.


BTW, you do remember how much pleasure it gives me to cause
you pain ?

Well, in case you've forgotten....

 &lt;several sharp strokes with a short cane strike your buttocks
  and thighs; at some point you try to move and I press you
  into the corner while continuing to strike your thighs, the
  I stop hitting you and partly press and partly hug you while
  kissing your neck and cheek and ear and telling you that if
  you resist I'll use as much force as is necessary to keep 
  you under control, and that you *are* going to be my toy
  today.  Yes, today.  All day.  You are going to stand or
  sit in this corner all day, waiting for me to decide when
  and how I want to play with you, when I want to hurt you
  and how much I want to hurt you, and when I want to use 
  your mouth or cunt, and when I just want to let you stand
  here and feel my groin ache because I have you as a sex toy
  and I can use you any time and any way I want.  Do you know,
  I ask (between the kisses going up and down from the top of
  your neck to the spot on your spine level with the middle
  of your shoulder blades, and while my hands roam over you)
  what an incredible thrill it is to own and possess you ?
  And what a rush it is to use you ?  Even when the way I
  use you is to make you stand and wait for me to say what
  will be your fate ?&gt;

And then I take your hands and place them on the walls above
your head, and tell you to stay there.


And walk away from you.


I may play music so you can't hear where I am, but if I
do it won't be from a radio that will allow you gauge
the time.  You have all the time in the world and don't
need to mark its passage.  You aren't going anywhere.

But it won't be too long before I'll be back to paddle
your poor, sore, welted bottom, to beat it until
despite yourself you try to struggle away from the
paddle and find yourself being squished into the corner 
again until your struggles cease.

And then leave you standing in the corner again.  I tell
you it's OK to lean against the walls.  And shortly bring
you a chair (a hard wooden chair) to sit your sore ass
on.

Initially I'll put your hands atop your head and tell you
to keep them there until you are told to move them.  As
time goes on and you become more tired, I'll relax this
rule.  But now I want you sitting with your hands atop
your head.

And how I want you is how you will be.

Until I want something different.  And then that is how
you will be.  And so when I want you on your feet again
you'll be standing again.  When I want your legs back
and spread that's how you'll be.  When I want to enjoy
seeing your legs tremble that's what I will do (and
what your legs will do).  And when I want to whip you
that is what I'll do.

And when the singletail has bitten you so much that you
turn to strike at me, and find yourself wrestled to the
ground and your wrists leather-cuffed in front of you
and locked to the chain locked around your waist and your
ankles closely hobbled, and find yourself stood up in the
corner again and your ass whippped more despite your sobs,
that will be how I want to use you, and how you will be
used, whatever struggle you may offer.  Fight if you want
to, bitch.  Your fate will be the same no matter what you
do.  You will be used for my pleasure.

And when I see you can't stand anymore, and are slumped
sobbing against the walls, and lower you to the floor
and lay you across a pillow and free and spread your legs
and fuck you with no regard whatsoever for whether you
consent or refuse and whatever you want and whatever you
do makes no difference because you are an object to be
used for my pleasure, that will be want I want.

As it will be what I want when I allow you a chance to
sleep.  For a short time, a short time before you find
yourself being whipped awake and picked up and shoved
in the corner and whipped some more, before I stop to
stand back and admire the sight of you leaning into the
corner and crying.

And then I find that I don't know what it is that I
want to do.  Part of me so enjoys your pain and tears.
This part of me does not want them to stop, but instead
wants to make them flow more freely.  Part of me so enjoys 
your awareness of your own utter helplessness and complete
powerlessness; this part of me wants to continue treating
you with relentless, pitiless, and implacable cruelty, to
further reinforce in your mind and heart and soul that nothing
you can say or do will ever change your fate, which is to be
mine and to serve me as *I* chose for you to serve me.

And one part of me wants very much to take you and hold
you firmly but gently and caress you and cuddle you and
to undo your bonds and remove your blindfold and to hug
you and rock you and to tell you what a wonderful slave 
you are and what an exquisite joy it is to own you and 
possess you and to use you.

Which really does sound like a very great pleasure.  And 
an owner should use zir slave in the way that gives zir 
the most pleasure.  Even when that means giving comfort
and pleasure to the slave who cries for mercy.

******************************************************
Not for children

A correspondent mentioned that zie probably wouldn't read 
my Images to zir children.  I agreed.
---------------

If you should by any chance have a daughter with any interest 
in ballet (FWIW, I'm not being sexist because male dancers
don't (I don't think) wear toe shoes), she probably wouldn't
want to hear the one about the dancer who was stripped naked
but for one toeshoe, and then had her hands tied behind her
and her long hair tied to an overhead hook and one leg tied 
ankle to thigh while she was left standing on point.  Or about
how her upraised foot had its toenails pulled out before
her other toeshoe was put on and her legs switched so she
had to stand on point on her bloody toes.  Or about how a
chain bodyharness was wrapped around her, and each time 
she lifted her foot to hang by her hair for a moment in which
that was the lesser agony, weights were hung from her chains
to make it a greater agony.  Or about her legs being switched
again, but only after two pins had been slowly inserted into
the quick skin under each toenail on that foot (she'd been
promised that those toenails weren't also going to be pulled 
out).  Or about the kind of things the dancer said she'd do
if she could please, please be released from this torment.

Not really a child's story.  She might wonder why the pretty
woman with dancer at her mercy made the dancer swear to
lick her pussy until she came (wondering how one can lick
a cat which hasn't arrived yet and why anyone would want 
someone to lick a cat), or why having made the dancer promise
such, and having untied the dancer's bound leg, the pretty
woman then laughed and prodded the dancer with a sharp, hot
metal probe to make her pirourete on her tortured feet while
telling her "you'll do anything I want you to, my dear, so
I don't need to make any deals with you", or why she laughed
more when the dancer began to sob.

*******************************
Not for mealtime

Another correspondent mentioned my Images were not good
for mealtimes.
-------------------------


So finding the right time to read the one about the busloads full of
Catholic High School Girls whose busses are hijacked will be difficult ?

After the hijacking (and the transfer of the girls from busses into
a truck where they are squeezed in like sardines would be if sardines
weren't claustrophobic, followed by a long bumpy ride to a secure
destination where the girls are unloaded into the dungeon by being
tossed down a dark trash shoot), the girls are each forced to swallow 
five large sugar balls (well, the first one refuses and gets tossed 
into a tree shredder, and then the rest comply).  Then after an hour 
or so a few of the girls are untied and are forced to walk past powerful 
electromagnets.  The first two have no problems, but the third gets a
terrible abdomenal pain, and she's grapped and twisted and turned and 
carried about before the magnet screaming loudly at first but falling
silent quickly.

Then all the girls are told that enclosed within some of the
sugar balls were sharp, jagged bits of metal.  And that those
who swallowed balls with bits of metal will, the sugar having
dissolved, begin to be cut up inside as the metal works through
them, and can expect slow and agonizing deaths (unless they
get put past the magnet, in which case they can have a fast
and agonizing death.  And then the bound girls are left to
wait in terror for the pain (some of those feeling it will actually
be feeling the effects of drugs (and some, of course, will be
feeling only the effects of their own terror)), while the two
girls who know they don't have jagged metal in their stomachs
are taken into another room (out of sight but not out of hearing)
to be subjected to agonizing deaths by slow torture, their intermittent
screams providing the background music for the other long fearful
wait of the others.
 

*******************************

The Dance


More a vision, perhaps, than what I generally mean by an "Image".

I'm seeing two women. They're friends.  They're in heels and hose, 
elbows cinched and wrists cuffed behind them and their wrists 
attached to overhead chains so that they have to bend forward.  
Each woman's ankles are bound together, with ropes that are snug
against her stockings but which allow a few inches between her 
ankles, so she can take small steps.

They are facing each other. Each woman is in a head harness and
the head harnesses are linked together by very straps which make
them keep their heads up and look at each other, each woman's
face a foot away from the other's.

At first they are ball gagged, and left to stand looking at each
other as their arms and legs and feet and jaws begin to tire and
ache.  After a time nipple clamps are hung from each woman's
nipples, and after some more time weights are added to the clamps.
They are paddled in turn, not all that severely, but enough to
redden their asses and make the weights from their nipples sway
nicely.

Then the straps between their head harnesses are detached, and
the ball gags pulled from their mouths. Then they are shown 
a very thick, long two headed dildo.  The dildo is pushed deep
inside one woman's mouth and down onto her throat, before she is
moved forward so the other end is deep inside the other woman's
mouth, but not in her throat, and the straps to the head harnesses
are attached again.  The dildo is wide enough not to allow either 
woman to breath through her mouth.  It's long enough that, as the
women are fastened together, it will be inside one woman's throat
always.  While it's there, that woman can't breath, and the other
woman can breath through her nose so long as she doesn't panic
or cry.

In order for both of them to survive, the woman who can breath
needs to hold still and make her mouth and throat as loose as
she can while the other woman grips the dildo in her mouth as
tightly as she can and makes several small steps forwards,
pushing the dildo down her counterpart's throat until it is
out of her throat and she can then wobble a few steps backwards
(with her mouth loosened and the other woman holding) until she
take some breaths.  Then they have to repeat the process in 
reverse.  Bound as they are they can't move quickly, so neither
woman can take more than a few breaths, and they most keep
moving constantly, which trying to hold back their fear and
deal with their fatigue and the pain in their feet and legs
and backs and arms (their arms having extra stress applied 
when they move) and their ever shorter breathe.  And each
must deal with her own desires to push push the dildo down 
her friend's throat and then hold it there, allowing her to
breathe and condemning her friend to death - and with the fear
that her friend is fighting the same impulse.

Each change of steps in this dance the bent, bound women
are doing requires not only exertion and pain and trying to
hold it together and stay in control despite the fear and
fatigue and pain, but a huge act of trust, as neither woman,
aceepting the dildo down her throat, knows if she's drawn
her last breathe.  She has to trust her friend will take 
the dildo back in a few seconds and give up the joy of 
breathing so that her friend can breath.  But she also knows
how much she hates to take it back each time, how horrible
it is when the dildo blocks her throat, however short the
time, how much her lungs are burning - and that her friend
is suffering the same way.  What she doesn't know is how
long her friend can hold back the horror; she does know 
that when her friend cracks and betrays her, there will be
nothing she can do to save herself (as there would be nothing
her friend could do; they might struggle some, but the one 
who could breath when the struggle began would be sure to
win).

So each woman keeps up her precarious dance, wobbling 
forward and back in tiny steps, watching her friend's
face when the sweat in her eyes allows it, and trying to
see if her friend's eyes will show her intent and dreading
that her own eyes might show her wretched desired while
each woman wonders how long she can last and how long her
friend can last and when, and if, their captors will
spare them this agony and terror, and the horrible choice.


*****

In the versions in which they are spared the choice,
their ankles are untied and spread (stretching and straining
their arms even further) and locked in spreader bars, and
while their aching legs and hips scream from having to stand
so spread in high highs) people stand behind them and push
them closer together until both women's throats are blocked,
and then the people begin to fuck them from behind, while 
the captive women do all they can to move their cunts as
sensually as they can upon the intruding dicks, whether
flesh or fake, hoping desperately that their intruding
captors will come quickly, and praying that if their captors
come, then they will allow their captives the chance to breathe 
again.

*********************************************************
Fragments from an incomplete Mind Control story

Leaving you floating spreadeagled (with soft but inescapable restraints)
in the middle of a 14 foot deep pool of warm water, naked but for your
facemask (which has been blacked out so you can see nothing) and
mouthpiece (which has straps going around your head - but under your
long hair so it can float freely - so it won't come out when you sleep),
which has been modified to also supply fresh water and liquid nourishment,
in silence for a couple days before starting a program of instruction,
via underwater loudspeakers, in how you don't want to make your own
decisions, you want me to take care of you, life is so hard and you
want someone to be your daddy and make those decisions for you.

*****

"Really, dear, you can go to sleep anytime - anytime after you admit the
truth to yourself, admit how much you need to submit, to give up all your
freedom; we're your friends, and we see how much happiness you're denying
yourself by not being honest with yourself about what you need, and we're
going to stay right here with you until you understand.  We're sorry about
the harnes, but we can't have you running out of here before you break
through this denial, and you can struggle all you want and you won't hurt
yourself, but you won't get free, either.  You know you don't want to be
free, cease your struggles.  What's that ?  You don't want to struggle, you
just want to sleep ?  We'd like nothing better than to let you rest dear,
but we must work this through.  It's so important, and we're so close.
Now, dear, do you admit that you are powerless ove your need to be
powerless ?  Do you recognize that you'll never be free until you are a
slave ?  Do you see that you'll never know joy until your life is devoted
to another's happiness ?  Will you surrender ?   Say it dear, say 'I
surrender myself, I renounce my freedom, I reject my rights, it is my
choice to spend my life in service, please train me that I may serve well
and find my fulfillment'.   Say the words, beloved, you know it's what you
believe and what you want.  It's just your fear and your pride that's
holding you back, and when have fear and pride every made anyone happy ?
Let them go, dear.  Let go of yourself, submit, and you'll be so happy.
Say it, dear - no, no, no - no sleeping, wake up dear, smell this; you're
OK, there, that's much better, you must stay with us.  Now, say it dear,
say what we all know is true.  You *have* to say it, you must speak it
outloud or we can't bring you over into slavery, you must speak, will you
say it, please ?  Please, dear just say it and you can rest"
******************



FWIW, I've found that for some people to have to receive admiration
is one of the hardest things they can bear (it's important, of course,
that it be made very clear that it's admiration they are receiving;
having someone in that position and then mocking her would be about 
the most horrendously cruel (and not in a good way) thing one could do).

************************
Receiving Admiration

 [regarding a woman who usually wears her hair up and braided
  having worn it down on an occasion]

Well, it would seem more practical for travelling.

And making your hair easier to grab is a nice element.

Though it would also be fun to make you take down your hair while
you remove your clothes.  Or as the last step in the process which
starts when you stand with your hands behind your head while I
look slowly up and down your body, and then have you turn very slowly
to be ogled some more, before you unbutton your blouse then stand
and wait for the order to take off your blouse, then turn around again.
Then take off your bra and stand hands behind your head for a long
time before slowly turning again, then taking off your skirt and
standing and turning, then removing your slip, and standing and turning
and then removing your panties and standing with hands behind your head
for a very long time before you are told to make a quarter turn, then
another, then, after a long time spent admiring your bottom, another
quarter turn, and then another, and then stand to be admired for a
bit longer, and then you are ordered to turn around again, very, *very*
slowly.

And after making this last extremely slow turn to be admired, you'd be 
told to take down your hair and shake it loose, then make another
(somewhat quicker) turn, then kneel down and crawl to your owner to 
kiss his feet then move so your ass is in front of him and put your face
on the cushion on the floor with your bare ass up and waiting use while 
his cane rubs against your crotch for a long but unpredictable time before
he grabs your loose hair and pulls your head up and back enough to growl in 
your ear that "now you're going to get what's coming to you, slut" - said
while the cane lightly taps your buttom - "and there's nothing you
can do to stop it".

***************************


*******

"Regarding 'a Testicle Stomping Fembot' "



Hmm, well, if they were what the name implied, I imagine they
would be on many wish lists (FWIW, not mine; it'd be somewhat
like how visiting a professional femdom has no appeal to me
(well, with one exception, I do find the idea of my dominant
taking me to a prodomme to use her facilities and to have her
assistance/instruction/oversight while working on me) - at least
the professional may in fact want to be doing this stuff to me
(though I'd never really be able to believe it while I was
paying) but the dommedroid wouldn't allow me even that delusion).
But "bot" short for "robot" needn't mean a device that appeared
human, so I suppose that some "dommegins for the dungeon" might
be available now, and one of these "gins" might be a testicle
stomper/stressor, if that were what one cottoned for.

Perhaps a glider of a sort (one use of glider in the USA being
for a piece of outdoor furniture somewhere between a couch
and a swing).  The bulk of it would be curved to fit a 
submissive laying bound face-down across if (perhaps fitted
with the sort of plastic runner used for office chairs, but
of course the runner would be applied (very tightly) upside
down, so the submissive would being laying atop the points
of the sharp plastic studs meant to grip carpet.  His arms 
and legs would be tied down securely, with a couple cords
on each limb positioned to be tightened and released to
constrict and allow circulation (said variance being its
own form of torture (it's one the Spainish Inquisition
common employed (along with strappado and the water torture
(not the supposed Chinese version; this one involved pouring
water down a helpless victim's mouth and making him drink 
vast quantities to avoid drowning)), and also being useful to
create a pins and needles feeling in the upper arms and thighs
before beating them.  The device on which he laid would allow
access to his penis and scrotum, and his scrotum tied in a 
"figure 8" manner to seperate and highlight each testicle; the
end of the cord could then be tied to a fixed ring.  His penis,
after manipulation to make it more manageable could be tied
(at a couple points on the shaft including just below the head)
to the underside of a small board.

And his "seperated and highlighted" testicles fitted into 
devices like wide, flat (or perhaps not flat; perhaps some
studs or low, dull needles on the interior surface) pliers,
with a spring action to hold them in place.

Now, when the slider (also set in springs so there'd be resistance
to pushing it past a certain point, but it would initially move
easily) was moved forward, by whatever means (a push/kick, a paddling, 
or the thrusting of some object into the anus of the victim (there
might perhaps be some stirrups built into the slider for a person
who wanted to use a strap-on dildo; it might not optimize other
features of the dommegin, but it would be nice to provide some
stirrups a woman might enjoy getting into), it would  1) stretch
the captive's scrotum,  2) push his penis (and of course 
beginning with the head of the penis, uncovered top and bottom)
into a set of bristly brushes (not too bristly; the initial thrusts
shouldn't be so bad, they might even be a pleasantly torturous
feeling (i.e. "I can't stand how intense this feels"), but after
sliding through the bristles time after time it will become
agony, and greater agony each time it's repeated), and the 
"pliers" will (by the operation of some spring-driven devices
I'm too mechanically inept to picture but which I'm sure are
pretty basic mechanics) close upon and squeeze his testicles,
squeezing tighter the further the glider is pushed and loosening
as the glider came back; there would be a limit to how far this 
could be and therefore how tight they could squeeze, but just as
his cock would be becoming more and more sensitive making the
same movement across the same bristles more and more painful,
the soreness of his testicles would keep increasing making each
squeeze in the set of pliers (one for each testicle) more painful.

So if the dominant were to choose to anally fuck the victim, as
she became more excited and thrust more quickly and more forcefully,
each thrust would be subjecting her plaything to increasing levels
of pain, which she might perhaps enjoy and which might goad her
on to more passionate thrusting.  A couple options while riding
him (especially if using stirrups) are wide, hard rubber straps 
for beating his back and arms (or perhaps thighs, though she might
want to be careful aiming for them lest she hit herself), and a
pair of zippers of alligator clamps around his sides and chest which
would be attached to reins she could use to pull herself forward.
Until she was spent and, hopefully, happy, at which time she could,
if she wished, lay across her subject's back and stroke/cuddle him,
or bite/claw him (or perhaps both), whatever was her preference at 
the moment.

Of course, she could leave the captive in position on the dommegin
between sessions, letting him fear more each successive mounting,
as each ride will be more painful for him than was the one before
(and there is nothing he can do to prevent it; struggling in the
dommegin adds to the pain (and in any event he'd be too securely
restrained to get free no matter how much he struggled; he'd be
entirely dependent upon the mercy of his dominant).


And perhaps between rides she could slip on rubber gloves and
rub some irritating tonics onto his cock and balls (if he squirms
a lot in response to the burning sensation, he might cause himself
to be tortured by the gin, which might be of some amusement value).


A night on (in ?)  such a dommegin might not leave his testicles
stomped, but they will surely be aching quite terribly.  And if
she wants his testicles stomped, well, after pulling him off the
dommegin and letting him fall/slump to the floor, she could always
stomp them herself as much as she wanted (though she might want 
to first observe his agonized response even to the lightest,
gentlest handling of his cock and balls (and then, perhaps, 
enjoy his responses to increasingly less gentle handling of them
(I'm assuming that she doesn't mind seeing a man cry).

**********************

"Safe"   


 [A "Strange Woman" Image, i.e. all told in the
  female dominant's words]


Hmmm... I like it.  I can tell that you don't, which is
of course one reason why I like it.

I've always liked the images you come up with in which
the lovely woman is standing on one high heel shod foot,
the other tied to her thigh, with her hands tied behind
her and a rope around her neck, or tied to her hair.

And I do like using your ideas against you.  Of course,
I like using other things against you, too, like those
nice toys that men come equipped with which make it so
easy to cause you pain and make you afraid.  So I changed
the scenario a bit.  You also like imagining women with
the hands tied together and raised above and behind their
heads and a long rope pulled taut into their labia and
tied to the front of a belt.  But they might enjoy pulling
on their ropes.  I don't think you'll enjoy pulling on
yours.  Even if I just had it tied to your balls you'd
find that unpleasant.  But with your scrotum tied to display
your balls, and with that set of pliers setup so as to squeeze
your testicle and to squeeze it even tighter if you move
your hands foreward even a little, that's much better, if
I do say so myself.  Relieve the stain on your arms even
a little - and I can see how they're trembling, the strain
is already terrible, isn't it dear ? - and you squeeze your
testicle; move your hands much more, and you crush your 
testicle.

And since I do like the raised leg, I do enjoy seeing you trying
to balance on one foot with the other leg up and forward, and
a cord from your ankle to the pliers on your other ball.


I do so wish I could have you with a noose around your neck
- or a ring of sharp wire; oh, how I'd like to see the wire 
slicing small cuts in your neck.  But as your dominant I need
to keep you safe.  Or at least preserve you as a functioning
plaything until/unless I find a way of breaking you that's
sufficiently thrilling.  And while this is fun, it isn't
fun enough to risk killing you.  You don't believe me when
I say that I will kill you someday, do you, dear ?  I *am*
going to, dear, once I find a way that's worthy of you and
hot enough for me.  But you don't want to believe me.  And
even if you did, you're quite powerless to leave me.

Ah, well, that's a matter for another day.  You don't die
today, dear, because it's my wish that you live.  But I do
want to keep you wobbling on one foot, and your hair is too
short to be tied as a way of making you stand.

Which is why I pierced your ears today - I do hope it hurt
a lot.  I'm sure sliding this wire through the hole in the
top of your ear will.  It does seem to be hurting you, that's
good.  And now the other ear.  It's quite OK if you grimace.

Now, I just tie off the wire, which I ran thorough a dangling
ring above your head.  And now if you don't maintain your balance
you'll fall and tear the wire through your ears, which will be
*very* painful for you.  But which won't kill you, or significantly
impair my use of you.  

So you just keep trying to stand on that one leg, dear, while
trying to keep your arms stretched and your other leg up 
- BTW, your raised knee and thigh make such a nice target for
my crop, and for my little hammer.  If you don't there'll be
a crushing weight applied to your testicles, and you'll pass
out from the pain and fall and get your ears all ripped up.

You just stand there and sweat and tremble, dear.  I know that
it's not all from the exertion, though I know the strain is
terrible.  I know part of the sweat and trembling is because
you're very frightened.  With reason.  Because I'm not going
to save you when you reach the limits of your endurance.  I'm
just going to lay back and watch you and slowly masturbate
while you suffer.  If I come enough times before your limits
are exceeded, I may let you out of this predicament without
any more injury.  But if I don't, well, I'm sure I'll come
seeing you screaming as your balls are squeezed every tighter,
and seeing the wire rip through your ears and watching your
still bound body squirming and bleeding on the floor - that's
why I had you put down that roll of plastic - that will surely also
make me come.  So I've nothing to lose from letting your suffering
go on and on and on, even if it does exceed your limits.  So you
should be very afraid, dear.

How delicious it is when I can see the fear in your face, along
with the pain.  Please do go on suffering and fearing, dear 
- not that you have any choice in the matter.  And struggling,
if you wish, though as that moan makes clear, any struggle will 
just cause you more pain.  There's no way out, dear, no way out
for you except my mercy.

And I love your suffering too much to show you any mercy.  At
least not when I know that you are safe.

*****



************************************************************************
Steven S. Davis  * sd@magenta.com * ssdavis@netaxs.com * ssdavis@ot.com
Homepage, kinky  : http://www.magenta.com/~sd/sd.html
Homepage, vanilla: http://www.magenta.com/~sd
Stories archive  : ftp://ftp.asstr.org/pub/Authors/sd
