Mechanical Milking

There are many ways to skin a cat but please don’t. I love these little furry animals and hate any kind of cruelty to animals. My point, there are many ways to milk a male too. In this article I am going to focus on mechanical milking or masturbation by machine. Hands free wanking at its best! Yes folks, believe it or not, there are specially adapted contraptions designed to milk your ‘old chap’ that are available on the market today and I have had them all.

My Dairy, also known as Mistress Jane’s Male Milking Facility- which is based in the Berkshire countryside in the UK-houses some of the most sophisticated machines available on today’s market. If it milks cock, I’ve either have one or have owned one at some point. We all know how you guys fantasize about having your balls milked dry. Well, it’s not quite so far fetched as you might have thought.

Who is suited for this type of play?

Basically this type of scenes, scenario, or session will suit any level of experience from a complete newbie to the most experienced kinkster. These machines do not hurt you unless used incorrectly. They merely offer an alternative way to pleasure. However, for guys with a really tight foreskin, machine milking might not be suitable since it could possibly force your foreskin back. Furthermore, these machines work better on a fully erect penis. The Serious Kit and The Robojac are the two machines I turn to when the penis is only semi erect.

I really enjoy mechanical milking scenes. Not only do they give me chance to stimulate my sub in different ways, but it also adds a certain distance, aspect of humiliation, and more loss of control for the receiver. It can add a different dimension to a scene as well.

I also really enjoy edging, orgasm denial, ruined orgasms and post orgasm torment. Although better done by hand, it is also possible to play these games by machine. Tie my sub down and off we go, edging, denying, more edging and so on until I eventually allow them the release they crave only to ruin it, and in some cases, not all, treat them to a spell of Post Orgasm Torment and watch them squirm. It really is pure bliss! One of my collared subs has aptly named my method of Post Orgasm Torment, ‘The Hand Of Evil’.

For me, the more bizarre the scene the better. When I say bizarre I am referring to the way in which I have my subject positioned and /or dressed. I enjoy dressing my subs as a bizarre rubber toy and suspending them in unusual positions whilst I milk them by machine. But that isn’t everyone’s cup of tea. Besides, some older gents aren’t fit enough to be tied and suspended. So, I tend to lay these men on my Gynae chair, which is in my specially adapted white room.

I often get asked “Can you milk me dry?” or “Can you milk me over and over?”. This is a hard one (if you will excuse the pun). Each individual’s capabilities differ so much from the next. I always ask any prospective clients to try a little homework before committing to a milking session, especially if they are unsure of the amount of times they can cum. I ask them to edge themselves for as long as they can without cuming. Then on a different day to masturbate and cum as many times as possible in the session duration time they have requested. This information helps a great deal as it gives me foresight in planning their edging or milking session.

Often in older men it’s just once, but there are occasions when they surprise me and themselves by cuming twice. Younger clients can manage 3, 4, 5 times. The record to date is seven times in three hours.

Have you ever heard that old saying ‘Don’t write checks your body can’t cash.’ Well, that is applicable when it comes to male milking or should I say multiple milkings. You need to set a target you are capable of achieving. Set it and I will push you to your limits and see if with the right stimuli we can’t squeeze another one out from you.

An introductory to the Machines.

In my specially adapted Berkshire Dairy Male Milking Facility you can expect to find a stark white room, not unlike a medical room at a doctor’s office or hospital, equipped with all the finest toys and machines to drain your balls dry! Let me start with the milking machine of all milking machines.

The Serious Kit system. Based around an iconic American Milking Machine, which has been modified to hold receivers known as STP’s, which are internally lined in a soft rubber and used to house your cock. The STP’s (Standard Pulsating Tube) are uniquely designed on a wet system to keep everything well lubricated and slippery. Once the machine is switched on the STP is sucked into place. The rubber inner liner sucks and pulsates, giving a very stimulating sensation. I wouldn’t say that this machine is designed for a quick fix cum; it’s designed to ‘hold you on the edge’ and therefore, is great for extended play and prolonged milking. It looks the business too and guys who love edging really enjoy this wonderful piece of engineering, which incidentally is made in the UK. http://seriouskit.com/site1/Milking_Machines.html

Moving on to the Venus 2000. A masturbation machine. Its stroke speed and stroke length can be controlled as it strokes your manhood. It works on a diaphragm, which pushes air in and sucks it out from within the inner rubber sleeve. I have a specially adapted v2 cradle that houses the Venus receiver, which sits on your groin while the v2 goes to work on you. As long as the operator can read the signs, they can have you balancing on the edge of an almighty orgasm in no time at all. https://venusformen.com/

The Tremblr works on the same principles as the Venus 2000. The receivers slightly differ from the v2 in that they are black and heavier and slightly more cumbersome. The inner sleeve is made of a thicker rubber, which is also ribbed, and can give you a

wonderful sensation as it slides up and down your lubricated cock. Hands free masturbation at it best! Also built in the UK. http://f-machine.com/index.php/tremblr-detail

The Robojac…..This works really well for guys with ED. It operates by creating an alternate air suction and pressure to move a smooth pliant receiver up and down the penis. The Robojac doesn’t have an inner sleeve like the other machines, so it makes it less fussy. http://www.funwaysmarketing.com/PRODUCTS/rjstandard.htm

All of these machines can be adjusted to pump faster and/or suck harder.

So, you find out you can only cum once, but want a two hour session? That is totally acceptable. I can prolong your milking for however long is needed. This is where edging and orgasm denial come into play; the longer it goes on, the more intense the orgasm.

Just milking? So while you are lying back, machine pulsating up and down your shaft, what else can you experience? Quite a lot actually. Depending on whether you like other forms of play, I can incorporate all sorts while you are being milked. A nice prostate massage is always a good way of stimulating willing men. Nipple play, lite stroking, or for the more demanding patient, nipple suction or clamps, maybe even estim. Some may like to feel the prickling sensation of the violet wand all over their anatomy. Others may like to be hooded or gagged or both or dressed head to toe in rubber. Just imagine! The possibilities are endless.

Please feel free to leave a comment about this article at the link below….

http://www.kinkweekly.com/article-guest-author/mechanical-milking/

 

Edging game

An Edging Game

…..It was exactly 10.30am, right on time when we spotted our mark parking his car. He sat for a few moments before deciding to get out. He looked about furtively trying not to look suspicious or hoping nobody could spot what was about to happen, although nobody did. After checking his doors were locked he began to walk away and headed to the exit road which was a single lane that was one way only. There were tall trees either side lining the road which prevented the light getting through making it quite dreary. He walked on, looking behind him every few moments. A green car drove up behind him so he stood to the side to let it pass. Little did he know, he was almost there, at our ‘pick up’ point. I hid down a small gully behind a fallen tree whilst the driver and Trixy turned on the engine and began to head to where I would jump out. 10,9,8,7,6,5,4,3,2,1….the mark had reached our ‘pick up’ point. There was no going back. I ran at him from my stake out point, the car appeared to the side of him, up went the boot. I bagged his head in a pillow case and he was pushed into the boot of the car and we sped off. It took all of a few seconds.

The back seat was half down so I could sit beside him and tie his wrists. His heat pounded in his chest as he shouted “Where are you taking me?”. We fell silent to keep up with the suspense. I reached down to check his person and low and behold, I found a hard bulge in his pants which I promptly unzipped and pulled out, tying it tightly in a piece of rope. Within fifteen minutes we reached the drop off. The driver reversed the car in to the drive and opened the boot. “Get out” he barked. He slowly edged out and sat on the edge of the boot to steady himself. “Stand up” I told him and pulled the rope attached to his wrist. He stood and wobbled, disorientated in his surroundings, his head still covered. We marched him to a room and sat him on a chair where he was tied and left for a while.

edging game

As short while after Trixy and I returned. We circled him, his heart still pounding with excitement. We pulled the pillow case from his head so he could see us. He squinted as his eyes adjusted to the light. “Where am I?” he asked. “I ask the questions, You answer them” was my short and to the point reply.

We untied him from the chair in order to strip him naked. He attempted to struggle for a moment then relaxed, he could tell all attempts at getting away were futile. He was overpowered by two women, and he liked it. His clothes were removed and hidden from him, and he stood before us naked.

His cock was as stiff as a piece of board and his balls tight and retracted. I attached some clamps to his nipples and led him by them. He scurried behind me as his flesh ached with the tension as I pulled. “Agh, oohh ahh” he groaned. “Lay there” I pointed to a bondage bed. He climbed on and lay back where we secured him tightly.

His cock had remained hard and there was no sign it was going away any time soon. We decided to have a little fun with our captive and we began to torment him. “Lets play tag with his cock and play an edging game” I said to my accomplice who nodded her head in agreement.

With his legs restrained apart it wasn’t hard to reach between them and probe him with a small toy. He tried his best to wriggle as if to fight off what was happening but we could tell he was gagging to be used by us. As if his cock wasn’t a sure indication his moans and whispers were. Trixy’s hand was wrapped around his throbbing shaft, and as she slowly worked her grip up and down, trying to avoid the bulging head which by now was glistening in the low lights with his pre cum. His head rocked gently from side to side in delirious confusion and excitement. We took it in turns to play and torment his cock and stroked his balls. I pulled a lace from a hook and wrapped it around his balls pulling it tightly.

Ties and Denied….

His cock twitched so hard it pulled away from Trixy’s hand. I stroked his balls and took hold of his cock, “My turn”. His shaft was ridged and I could tell it was on a knifes edge. Once false move and we would have an explosion of spunk. That wasn’t going to happen, not yet anyway. Trixy made herself useful by sitting on his face, a move we would nearly regret. She placed a cock gag in to his mouth, for two reasons, one to keep him quiet and two so Trixy could make use of him and satisfy herself at the same time. As she stood above him the sight almost made him cum. She lowered herself onto the cock gag and began to gyrate gently.

I sat between his legs and slipped a gloved finger in to his hole, hitting his prostate right on target. My other hand massaging his manhood. After a short time Trixy stood up and turned around in order to take her turn with our little edging game. Sliding herself back onto the cock gag she leaned forward and slid her small hands over the head of his cock. He squealed from behind the gag, an indication he was getting close. “Naughty boy” I snapped and as Trixy pulled her hands away from his exited cock I gave it a little slap, “Calm it down” I said. He jumped not expecting the slap but it helped to throw him off his stroke. We were having fun and the more frustrated he became the more fun we derived from his frustration.

We now had him suspended in the upright position and our edging game was in full throws. He had a ball gag in his mouth as it was all we could do to keep him quiet. I took my turn then Trixy took her’s, it was then we heard a knock at the door and in walked Kitten. I though I might join you…..

His eyes lit up as Kitten removed her coat revealing….eeerrrr not much really but a tiny small fishnet dress and nothing else. His eyes transfixed on her bare breasts. Kitten approached him and looked at both Trixy and I, “My turn?” she asked….”Be my guest” I answered.

Kitten looked deep in to his eyes and whispered “Your cock belongs to us and we are going to take your spunk”. He jerked in the suspension harness. “Sssssshhhh, be still” whispered Kitten. She looked my way and nodded for me to lower him down a little. He was now face to face with us. Kitten reached up towards his head and pulled it into her ample bosom “Suck” she demanded. He buried his head between her breasts and nuzzled her hard nipples “Good boy” she whispered. All the while his cock was still being tormented and edged.

The out cum….edging game

Kitten continued to whisper to him “If you squirt now you might get your spunk all over me, you’d have to lick it off if you did”. We all looked at each other, the time had come to relieve our captive. As I began to build him up, Kitten lowered herself to her knees all the while holding his gaze. She rubber her breasts and made cooing sounds to encourage him. “Cum on my tits” she insisted. That was it! that was all it needed, those few words were all it took and his volcano erupted all over Kittens breasts. Squirt squirt squirt there was no end to the shower of spunk. Kitten the stood up to face him “You know what you have to do do now don’t you!”.

 

 

Kinky KittenXXX

Kinky KittenXXX has caused a stir recently…..

with her raunchy exploits. My dear friend Kinky KittenXXX who hails  from Cornwall, just recently moved to the Reading area. She goes under the name of Kinky KittenXXX and is not a stranger to the adult industries. She has worked as a glam model and sub in her native Cornwall for some years. She is lots of fun and very open minded as you can imagine. Kitten loves all kinds of kinky capers, and dominating the two of you together can prove very interesting for all concerned.

Punishment for treats…

You need to earn your treats or should I say your pleasure. If you can’t take your punishment then you don’t get your treats!. I will secure you and punish you. If you take your punishment well you get a treat, sound fair? of course it does. An eye for an eye. ‘What is the treat?’ I hear you ask.

This is why I have kitten by my side. What ever I ask her to do she will do. Whilst you are secured tightly to a piece of equipment I might use my strapon on her while you listen on….oh yes I forgot to say, you might be blindfolded. But if I feel you’ve been a really good boi and earned it, I might just remove your blindfold so you can see us in action. With your hands restrained behind your back, all you’ll want to do it touch your cock while you watch the spectacle before you. And for boi’s who are very very good at taking punishment, Kitten might even allow You to use the cock gag on her until she purrs. Every body loves a kinky kittenXXX……

https://twitter.com/Kinky_KittenXXX

Kitten is available on Wednesdays from 4pm and some Saturdays.

kinky kittenxxx

Kitten is freelance she takes care of her own finances. I do not profit from her in any way shape of form. She is a fetish friend who likes to help out occasionally. Although she likes to push the boundaries of your sexuality she does not offer sex so please don’t ask.

CP Story ‘The Pursuit of knowledge’ Part V

Part V

“ … You have been apprehended on academy property in possession of Class B controlled substances.” The electrodes transmitted a minor current that caused an apprehensive tingling feeling in my bottom, warning me that the continuation of my theoretical bad behaviour would shortly result in renewed punishment. “This is a major violation of disciplinary and health and safety policy. The disciplinary sanction will now commence.” Frantically I heaved at the straps and tried to bring my fingers to bear that I might tear the restraints loose. Then a bolt of paralysing pain, shocking in its intensity coursed through me.

I did not have time to recover before the next bolt crackled into my hindquarters and another spear of electrical energy coursed through my innards. With artful sadism the apparatus paused then recommenced its ghastly work; sometimes administering three jolts in quick succession. Each energy wave manifested itself as superheated, flaring sensations in coruscating patterns across the nerve endings under the skin of the posterior region. The awful torment proved so intense that I felt as though twin bands of steel encompassed my body, crushing me so I couldn’t breathe. I rubbed my wrists raw with the intention of jerking my hands free to get the inflated rubber ball out of my mouth – to no avail.

Strangely, even in the midst of this surging, biting, bubbling cauldron I still possessed sufficient detachment to contemplate the diabolical inventiveness at work. The very cold, clinical, inhumanity of it made it seen especially sinister and cruel – especially when experienced from this position. With another human being there might be an appeal to reason; for clemency. But machines know no right or wrong – they simply follow their programmed instructions. Nor was the situation without its erotic quotient through and I couldn’t help imagining the beautiful doctor reclining in her swivel chair, shoe dangling from the heel of one lovely foot as she swept her amused gaze over the jerking, convulsing, hotly suffering bodies below …

Apart from the piercing, heat-raising aspects the very worst part of the punishment was the muscular contractions induced by each jolt. My spine arched, tendons and sinews screamed in protest and I times I thought I could hear my bones creak as my joints screwed up so violently. All the while as the current traced its course my nether regions lit up like a Christmas tree of agony. Silently I screamed, pleaded, cursed, threatened terrible vengeance – and suffered. And suffering was the whole point. It was what we were there for: human guinea pigs for the day when this conditioning would be used for real in our technological utopia. Odd is it not how we always perceive utopia to be a vision of paradise when Thomas More wrote his novel as a warning.

And suddenly … blissful relief. The flaring sensations of agonising heat ceased as abruptly as they had begin. For a moment I hardly dared exhale, believing it to be some sadistic trick of the machine. Next moment came a click as my bonds fell away and the rubber ball-gag collapsed upon itself, causing me to deposit a large quantity of saliva onto the gym mat beneath my downturned face. “Remove the VR device; take thirty seconds before attempting to stand up,” the voice intoned soothingly. As I eased the sinister black helmet over my hair now damp with perspiration, I saw the ponytailed girl looking down at me through the veil of tears: her face all concern and solicitude. “Take it steady … that’s it.” I felt the gentle pressure of her fingers on my arm as she guided me to my feet. Once she was sure my legs were not going to collapse like those of some new-born foal, she hurried off to help the others who also were in the throes of freeing themselves from that infernal device.

I looked around groggily for Doctor Barzani. Sure enough the lady in question stepped lightly off the dais and made her way gaily over toward me, hips swinging in that sauntering, long-limbed walk that matched her smile of satisfaction. Behind her on the platform the oscilloscope resumed its innocuous yellow pulse; the equipment once again simply a harmless jumble of cables, pipes and half-a-dozen bucket seats with gamer helmets.

My lips compressed in fury; in contrast her onyx eyes gleamed as she said: “That was marvellous! We got some really useful telemetry and biometric data from this session. It’s going to help us enormously.”

“Well I’m chuffed about that!” I began sarcastically. Before I could give vent to my feelings of outraged dignity the scientist turned away to corral the rest of the group. “We have iced water and some fruit ready for you,” she called out. “Take your time getting up; we don’t want any accidents.”

Helped by the doctor and her assistant, the shocked group stumbled back toward the common area and the waiting refreshments. No-one spoke; each test subject (or more accurately ‘victim’) lost in the jumble of his or her own thoughts. A couple of the girls were weeping silently and my own face felt slicked by something I suspected was not perspiration. Even Graham remained silent while Mazher simply repeated over and over again: “That’s not right; not right …” Walking proved painful and precluded a more rapid escape from the portals of Solaryde Ltd.

“You may experience some bladder irritation for a while afterwards and it might be difficult to pass water,” Doctor Barzani breezed helpfully.

“Well it certainly hasn’t stopped you from taking the piss!” I snarled.

Leaving the test centre and stepping back into the bustling normality of an English city street seemed surreal and I struggled for a moment to take it in. The blare of a car horn brought me back to my senses. A pale blue Ford Sierra was parked at the kerb and I saw Carole inside and leaning across to open the passenger door for me. As I hobbled over and lowered myself stiffly onto the seat she smiled – and then her expression froze. “God, David! You look terrible! What the hell happened in there?”

“I’ve just had enough electricity put through my jaxy to light up the National Grid!” I replied miserably.

Her head smacked back against the headrest as she gave a shriek of mirth. “I warned you to look into it properly, didn’t I?” Carole laughed in spite of her concern over my ordeal before reaching for the ignition key. “Oh David, you complete and utter arse!”

THE END


CP Story ‘The Pursuit of Knowledge’ Part IV

CP Story-Part IV
“Test Sequence One – Scenario: Moderate.” There followed a beep before the rather accusatory monologue continued. “You have been nominated for correction because you have recorded three tardies in one calendar month, which is contrary to the academy’s attendance policy.” Instinctively I tried to answer but the rubbery-tasting ball kept my tongue firmly depressed, requiring me to swallow constantly to stop the saliva building up. Barely had I a minute to work out what was going on when I heard a vicious high-pitched crack that sounded like a bug zapper in a restaurant.
Szszszszt!
Instantly a hot sensation of hurt lanced deep into the flesh and muscle of my right buttock as though I had been struck. And in that moment I realised the purpose of those wires and disc-like electrode pads attached to my backside.
S-s-n-napp! Another jolting sting: this time directed into the left cheek. The inflated ball prevented me from biting through my tongue (as with those used by defibrillator machines). Nor would there be any wriggling free. The flexcuffs that fastened me to the apparatus tightened as I struggled before slackening off when I stopped resisting. I tried to judge if they automatically tightened before each blast of electricity as a way of nerving myself for the shock but the inventors of this fiendish device had clearly thought of that and the straps gave no such indication.
The organ in the body that experiences pain is of course the brain because unlike nerve endings in the skin that have a purely mechanical function (i.e. receiving external stimuli for onward transmission); the brain has an interpretive and even a creative rôle in decoding and explaining those sensations: “It’s hot” or “It’s cold” or “It tickles” – or, in this case, “It hurts like a cowson!” These are the abstract concepts that the brain interprets from the millions of neurological signals it receives.
And so I understood what Solaryde was trying to create – the disciplinary equivalent of an e-cigarette or a shock collar for humans. It involved flagellating a person by electrical stimulation to the same area of the body as a disciplinarian would target during physical punishment. This would reinforce the humiliation aspects as well as keeping the current away from critical zones such as the heart or brain. It all made sense now; the embarrassing bottoms-up positioning recreated the physical aspect of a real spanking heightening the mood in the virtual reality. The impression of pain would be the same for the recipient – it bloody well hurt – but without the physical risk of cane cuts, paddle damage to vertebrae or kidneys or the strap welts on leg muscles that resulted in all those expensive insurance claims against educators in the United States especially. Knowing is not always consoling of course. And I’d been stupid enough to sign up for it.
So amongst our six writhing, jerking sufferers, our minds were being blown and gag reflexes triggered by blasts of static electricity while Doctor Barzani tested the software on systems that doubtlessly fed back to the development centre somewhere the ways to improve the system which could then be inflicted upon the next set of victims. After the sixth bolt of electricity the hurt ebbed away and I could master my breathing again. By now shock had given way to anger and my cheeks burned with mortification at being treated in such a degrading fashion.
But these moments of precious respite proved short-lived. Again the voice started up in my ear as I pulled furiously at my bonds but with the infinite precision that only comes from the microprocessor they contracted then flexed expertly to constrain my efforts. “Breathe normally,” the disembodied voice urged soothingly. “Vital signs are normal.”
My vital signs might be stable but my arse feels like it’s on fire, I seethed but barely had I time to ponder this conundrum when the system delivered its next message. And what it presaged sounded infinitely worse than last time. “Test Sequence Two – Scenario: Serious Disciplinary Infraction … ”
By DS

REVIEW 20/06/18

Dear Mistress Jane,
May I just say a wholehearted thank you for such a wonderful CFNM session. All five of you are just such stunning ladies it was fabulous to be subjugated and humiliated in your presence. I did indeed go home and have a lovely wank with a dildo up my ass thinking about Luna standing dominant over me (-;
Please pass on my deepest thanks to the wonderful ladies.
Regards

Masturbation machines for men

I am frequently asked about which masturbation machine / milking machine does what, and what does it feel like. Not having a cock myself this is a hard one for me to answer. I have the Venus 2000, The Tremblr, The RoboJac and The Serious Kit which is the only male Milking Machine I have and is made here in the UK, buy British!. The other machines bar the Robojac are all male masturbation machines, and the Robojac works more like a pump. I have also owned a BNG2000 which I sold within a month or receiving it. Take a look at the links below to see what the each individual machine does….

https://venusformen.com/

http://f-machine.com/index.php/tremblr-detail

http://www.funwaysmarketing.com/PRODUCTS/rjstandard.htm

http://seriouskit.com/site1/Milking_Machines.html

I use theses maturation machines most days and I get mixed reviews. The two machines that earn the most gold starts are the Venus 2000 and the serious Kit but both differ very much from each other. The Venus 2000 is a great easy to use machine.It has different size receivers which have an inner liner. Once your manhood is lubed up the receiver slides down your shaft giving it a feeling a bit like a blow job apparently. It can make some guys cum quite quickly providing the correct size receiver is used. The Tremblr works on the same principal as the v2, but the inner sleeve is made from a thicker rubber liner and is ribbed for more friction. The receivers for the Tremblr are a little heavier than the V2. The RoboJac is like marmite, you either love it or you don’t. It doesn’t have an inner sleeve like the other machines, therefore to me it is more of a cock pump and I tends to use it for that purpose. The serious kit is a milking machine and tends to hold you on the edge, rather than make you cum within 10 mins of using it. Again people either love this machine or not. The serious kit does have different types of receivers and electrics can also be added so this makes it more versatile. It is more for prolonged milking rather than a quick fix. The serious kit also has nipple attachments which enhances the ride. It looks great with all its tubes and shiny cylinder drum and takes a bit of getting used to to operate it.

serious kit masturbation machnemasturbation machine

The Pursuit of knowledge Part 3

“There is a march of Science; but who shall beat the drums for its retreat?”

The girl with the ponytail reappeared and held the door open for us while pointing down the corridor. As we filed past she gave an encouraging grin that for some reason only increased my anxiety. By now even Graham had gone quiet. “This is creeping me out!” I heard Mazher mutter behind me. Doctor Barzani strode ahead of us, those long, long legs swishing in the fine hosiery and ridiculously I wanted to drop behind her to see if she wore the kind with the seams up the backs. We entered a room that had obviously once been a gymnasium even to the extent of the thick green and orange rubber floor mats, the wooden climbing frames bolted to the walls and the long low forms arrayed beneath them upon which the class would have sat. For some reason the phrase from innumerable news broadcasts flashed through my mind – ‘The executions took place in a converted gymnasium’. I bet they did, I thought, wishing by now I’d never gotten into this business.

At least the misery of uncertainty was about to disappear; for there ahead of us waited six sets of what I could only describe as ‘apparatus’. Each consisted of a pneumatic black shape that resembled a collapsible car seat and – incongruously enough – a virtual reality helmet of the sort favoured by hardcore gamers dangled from it by coiled tubes. Twin sets of parallel loops protruded from the seat at positions equivalent to the limb joints on the human body. The floor and its collection of mats was a network of crazily inscribed wires, Ethernet cables and extension boards. Doctor Barzani stopped and held out her arms to check our progress. “Right, ladies and gentlemen,” she spoke reassuringly. “Well need you to take up position over the equipment so you’re kneeling on the seat with your palms on the floor. Don’t worry, it’s semi-automatic so you will be guided into position.” She then walked briskly over to a raised area like a platform at the bottom end of the gymnasium and I craned my neck to follow her.

There stood another workstation upon which was a desktop computer connected to a portable television set; the type used by industry with the innards gaping and uncased as the domestic set would be. I also noticed an oscilloscope among the equipment maintaining its steady display of a single brief signal across the green screen. Even more ominously, someone had parked a trolley next to the workstation and its sole cargo consisted of a single black and grey cube. Thick plastic pipes snaked from brass terminals on the top of the cube across the rubberised floor to all six sets of apparatus.

I stopped and stood for a moment trying to make sense of it all before Doctor Barzani’s voice floated into my consciousness above the sound of her fingernails clacking on the computer’s keyboard. “Ladies and gentlemen, if you would take your places please?” The oscilloscope waveform continued its steady sinister beat.

By now my mounting sense of anxiety clouded my judgement; I should have turned and fled immediately but glancing nervously at my fellow test subjects and seeing them shuffle toward the chairs I involuntarily followed suit. Gingerly I approached the nearest set of equipment and gripping the back of the seat, lowered myself onto it, my knees sinking into the black Naugahyde. God it felt creepy – cold and clammy. Thee ponytailed girl had drifted over to stand behind me and I was conscious that in this position my rear end was sticking right up in the air. “Oh, you’re wearing jeans … ” she said before her voice trailed off.

Damn! I thought, remembering that I hadn’t read the joining instructions properly. I now remembered they said ‘wear leggings or yoga pants – no thick material.’

“Doctor?” The girls called out and then I heard the click and squeak of those high-heeled shoes and caught the scent of Chanel Number Five. I twisted round to see the doctor in her white coat leaning down over me. “I’m terribly sorry but your jeans are going to have to come off,” she said, her face set in a serious expression. “We need to get efficient conductivity you see.”

“Okay.” Blushing furiously I unbuckled my belt and in this most embarrassing of positions snaked the jeans down around my hips while she leaned forward to retrieve a bundle of wires that terminated in Velcro pads from the floor nearby. To my astonishment I then felt Doctor Barzani’s fingers actually touching my backside through the tight briefs whilst she attached the wires to my posterior. She then circled round to where my head lolled down as I rested my weight on my palms, the seat sinking queasily and knelt in front of me. In such close proximity were we that I had to drag my eyes away as the hem of her lab coat and minidress slid above her knees, exposing a shapely section of charcoal-meshed thigh as she attached more of the pads to my chest and neck. The sweet scent of her perfume filled my nostrils and that beautiful face swam but a few inches from mine but the smile twitching the corners of her flawless mouth had a distinctly vulpine quality to it … All too quickly she was done.

My discomfiture had not gone unnoticed amongst the other members of the group. “Hard cheese, old son!” Graham hooted. “You’ve got to do it in your pants!”

“Great budgie smugglers, mate!” the lanky blonde Aussie girl called derisively down the row to my left as she took her place. “Are they your pulling pair?”

“I’m a grower, not a shower!” I retorted. But I was pleased to say she had to expose her own ‘botty-huggers’ when Doctor Barzani turned back her denim miniskirt to attach the Velcro pads to the tautly curved seat of her pink panties.

At this juncture of course I should have been contemplating what these strange adhesive pads were for. Barely had I the time to register the Australian girl’s embarrassment (and derive some malicious pleasure from it) than Doctor Barzani walked back to my position. Just as I opened my mouth to ask the inevitable question she took the helmet and slipped it over my head. On being plunged into darkness two things happened. With a hiss of compressed air a gag like a car’s airbag punched inside my mouth to cut off any cries and squeals. Having something like that so suddenly inflate in my mouth felt invasive and I experienced a brief moment of panic in that I might choke – ‘the gagging reflex’ as it is (ironically) called. Simultaneously – and certainly quicker than I could react – the wrist and ankle cuffs, which had snaked about my joints, snapped into life, automatically adjusting for a perfect fit.

The machine cinched me tight and drew me down upon it, into something that must have resembled the missionary position so that my buttocks and haunches were positioned up on a higher angle than my head. I could only imagine the others in the same predicament, kneeling forward, trussed thus, displaying our rumps clad in tracksuit bottoms, the fashion of tight black leggings or briefs in the case of the Australian girl and I – ready for whatever came next.

Eerily a computerised voice spoke from a speaker from within the helmet. I immediately recognised it as a synthesis of Doctor Barzani’s except it sounded even huskier. “You are being restrained for your own safety and well-being,” the voice intoned seductively. “Continue to breathe normally: your vital signs are being monitored.” My mind swirled in confusion I could sympathise with a luckless animal caught in a snare. What the hell were these weirdoes going to do to us —?

— Then the voice began to speak again.

The Pursuit of Knowledge …Part 2

The Pursuit of Knowledge …

On Wednesday morning I caught the eight thirty three from Brighton to Chichester to begin my little adventure. The day before I had a brief conversation on the subject with Carole who looked at me doubtfully while biting her lower lip: “You did go through it thoroughly with them, didn’t you?”

“Of course,” I lied.

During the brisk fifteen minute walk from the station inside the city walls and close to the Cathedral I saw many beautiful period houses that had been reclaimed from commerce. The character of the city had changed and a domestic hum was replacing the hush of office life and I enjoyed the early spring sunshine on my face as its rays slanted down over the rooftops and between the pilasters to reflect on the windows of parked cars. No wonder North Street received acclaim from Nikolaus Pevsner and Ian Nairn in the Sussex volume of The Buildings of England as ‘the perfect street for an English country town’. And somewhere inside this portentous Georgian façade would be the former school converted by Solaryde into their research facility.

Once buzzed in through one of the glass security pods I stepped into the reception hall with its high corniced ceiling and which still retained the elegant Adam oval staircase. It wasn’t hard to visualise what this place must have looked like when it had been a school with pupils heading in noisy crocodiles up and down those stairs: all excited chatter; sports bags and gossip. Stepping from behind the dais a girl in a white silk blouse and whose long black ponytail dangled down to the small of her back led me across the lobby toward a series of rooms converted into cellular offices. There seemed to be nobody else around and the building was eerily quiet apart from the whine of computer or other electrical equipment; the noises of the street shut off by the vacuum-sealed doors.

“You’re just in time; Doctor Barzani is expecting you. She’s just about to start the briefing” was her perfunctory greeting and as we walked along the corridor a surveillance camera high up near the veiling panned to follow our progress.

“Here you are.”

The girl ushered me into a barrel-vaulted room converted into an office. Five faces turned to look at me – these belonging to the other volunteers sitting in a semi-circle around a functional metal workstation desk. And there seated at some distance to the side of the desk was the elusive Doctor Barzani herself.

“Ah David! Welcome. Please take a seat. I’m just taking the group through the preliminaries and explaining the background to what are our phase II clinical trials …” The smile switched direction to the girl who had shown me in. “Thank you, Rachael. We’ll be done in about ninety minutes so you can buzz them out then, okay?”

“Okay Doctor.”

I was barely conscious of the others in the room as I took the vacant chair – so preoccupied was I in drinking in the beauty of the woman opposite. My God was she gorgeous! Jet-black hair, swept up into a simple and completely practical hairstyle, accentuated her high-cheek-bones and a straight, perfectly proportioned nose. Wide-set brown eyes with delicately painted lashes complimented a mouth in which the upper lip curled a little and the lower lip was a little fuller than the upper. She is beautiful, I thought. If you drew a line down the centre, both sides of her face would be almost exactly the same. Her cafe au lait skin was flawlessly smooth. And I’m pleased to say she even wore a white lab coat over her tight black minidress and those long shapely legs were hosed in black nylons that found their perfect accompaniment in spiky-heeled shoes. A name badge pinned to her lapel read SAHIRA BARZANI BSc. Expressions like ‘stunner’, ‘honey’ et cetera would seem ridiculously inappropriate when applied to such an amazing woman …

“You’ll be helping us here today with our work in developing and evaluating novel treatments through the first in the series of single and multi-centre trials …” There were half-a-dozen of us in Doctor Barzani’s office. We were all around the same age – early- to mid-twenties, students from various academic establishments. And her group now being complete, she launched into an exposition of the programme but it proved to be as opaque as Carole’s earlier explanation. To make matters worse (or better, depending upon your perspective) she had this habit of reclining right back in her swivel chair, legs crossed and one glossy high-heeled shoe dangling in a seductive manner from her foot so the ball in the fine-denier hose shone almost pinkly through the charcoal mesh … Stop perving at her legs! I told myself sternly, you’re here for the advancement of science – not to letch at good-looking women. I tried to distract myself by taking the occasional glance beyond the French windows at the stone flags that let out into the garden. But it proved difficult …

After the rather sinister hush of the remainder of the building it felt a relief to be back amongst people. Of the other five volunteers, one in particular caught my eye – tall and leggy girl with a sun-reddened face and a disarranged hairstyle of blonde locks and dark roots that I found quite appealing. She spoke in an Australian accent and asked the most questions of any of us but I was too lost daydreaming about the beauty of Doctor Barzani to hear barely a word of either these queries or the concomitant answers.

“ … Designed to optimise alternative mindpaths through appropriate stimuli to re-engineer neuro-linguistic programming into generating more societally acceptable responses …” To be honest I was so fixated on Doctor Barzani’s lovely face and that ruby lipped mouth I was away with the fairies. I took not one whit of notice of what she was actually saying … until ‒

 We have laid on some light refreshments for you so please enjoy these, get to know each other and then in half-an-hour we’ll start.” Naturally there was some form-filling and the doctor passed a clipboard amongst us that had attached the thick legal waiver to be signed and of course a slip for the nominated bank account for each person to receive their expenses and remuneration. We then filed out into a common area where tea and coffee urns stood on a trestle table alongside a respectable selection of biscuits, muffins and other pastries. I’d no sooner poured myself a cup of coffee (which proved to be surprisingly decent for this sort of thing) than I received dig in the ribs from somebody and I looked up to see an immensely tall and gangling youth who peered down at me through thick-lensed spectacles. “Hello mate,” he said in a suitably posh voice. “I saw you eyeing up the good doc. Quite a looker isn’t she?”

“She’s that all right,” I cackled, taking a liking to this eccentric character. “So what do you make of all this business? It’s a bit mysterious. I mean nobody’s told us what’s in store.”

“The chance to make a few quid – easy money that’s all.” Flicking back a lock of straight-combed blond hair he suddenly stuck his hand out. “Graham,” he said.

I shook it and replied, “David.”

The third boy in our group had by now drifted over to introduce himself: “Mazher.”

We exchanged handshakes and introductions complete began speculating on the nature of the experiment we would soon be participating in. “I’m not sure I want to be a lab rat,” Mazher confessed; face pensive. “But I need to get my car back on the road.”

“I’m sure it’ll be all right,” I replied although by now I did have a few butterflies in the stomach. Despite the tall arched windows in the room it seemed perceptibly darker outside and the third youth’s words brought back the feeling of unease I experienced earlier. Keeping a discreet distance the three girls also had their heads together discussing the situation. Only Graham seemed unaffected by the mood of apprehension. “Tell you what I’m going to do,” he winked conspiratorially, “once this is over I’m going to invite Doctor Barzani out for a coffee.”

“I mean they keep mentioning Newman,” Mazher persisted. “What’s all that about? Who is Newman and what are his theories? How come nobody’s given us a straight answer since we got here? Don’t you think we should be finding out more about this stuff? Because that’s probably what they’re going to be doing to us? I mean don’t you think we should know!”

“No idea,” Graham chortled, “all I care about is they’re paying us and I want to get my leg over with the doc and that’s all need to know!”

“And you reckon a coffee’ll do it, do you?” I guffawed. “I admire your confidence.”

“If she’ll have a coffee with me it’s a start, isn’t it?”

Mazher laughed and shook his head. “You guys are hopeless, aren’t you?”

“Okay ladies and gentlemen. We’re ready for you now.”

……………………to be continued