Prison strap 36

The Prison Strap swooshed through the air and landed with a blunt thud.
“Six” announced Mistress Jane. Kay grunted, a sort of reluctant “Ouch”.  That one had stung.
 A few seconds later she announced “Seven”.  Mistress Jane was using a Prison Strap, there had been no swish to presage the blow, only a resounding ‘Thwack’ as it had landed on Kay’s backside, to be followed by a louder grunt.
After a few more seconds of suspenseful silence there was another loud ‘Thwack’ followed by a gasp from Kay, as Mistress Jane calmly stated “Eight.”
The ninth stroke was followed by a ‘yelp’ from Kay, the tenth by a louder ‘yelp’, and the eleventh by a louder ‘yelp’ still. Things were starting to get interesting.
The twelfth Thwack was followed by what can only really be described as half-gasp, half-shout, half-shriek from Kay.  It was hard to tell really, the Prison Strap had landed with a force that had driven the air out of Kay’s lungs, his reaction somewhat garbled by the time it left his mouth and further muffled by the heavy leather hood that encased his head.  Either way stroke 12 had ‘got through’ to Kay.
Kay was, in fact, getting exactly what he had asked for – 36 Good strokes with the Prison Strap.
“Thirteen” announced Mistress Jane, this time the Strap had landed on the sweet spot of Kay’s backside, a loud crack echoed around the room in perfectly synchrony with a loud, if somewhat muffled, shriek.
“I want to be strapped down across your whipping bench” Kay had asked, “and punished at a level that is genuinely challenging for me, whereby every single stroke, from first to last, is ‘effective’ and ‘appreciated’.  I want you to ensure that it is a ‘truly memorable’ occasion for me.”
“Fourteen” counted Mistress Jane as the Prison Strap once again connected with Kay’s naked bottom with a loud ‘crack’, and Kay once again responded with a shriek – clearly that stroke had also been ‘effective and appreciated’!
Kay had told Mistress Jane about his curiosity about what it would be like to receive a prison style strapping.  Mistress Jane had warned Kay that it would be an intense experience, not something for the faint-hearted.  But Kay had been undeterred, and had insisted that was what he wanted.
Well, today was the day and he was starting to regret being so brave.
“Fifteen”, as the Prison strap once again connected with Kay’s naked backside, where hotness was now quickly turning into a raging fire.
When sitting at home in front of his computer watching porn and reading stories the idea had made Kay go weak at the knees (but, positively ‘firm’ elsewhere), and his heart beat faster.  To be restrained and thrashed across his naked backside with as fearsome a weapon as the Prison Strap was a most exciting thought indeed, which had caused him a raging erection that had, one might say ‘stiffened his resolve’ to experience it for real.
“Sixteen” called out Mistress Jane, as the stringing, burning sensation spread further across Kay’s backside.
In his arousal, Kay had written to Mistress Jane and asked her to make it happen for him.  In fact, he had even gone so far as
to reference a little quote on one of her blog’s that appealed to him:  “make him noisy”.  “That’s what I’d like you to do to me,” he had written, ” – make me noisy!”
But, now, this was reality.  Kay was strapped down – exactly as he had requested, and he was being thrashed by a beautiful, powerful woman – again exactly as he had requested.  And he was experiencing what a proper thrashing with a Prison Strap was like – just as he had asked.  It really, really did sting something horrid, and his bottom already felt twice its normal size and was throbbing like a sore tooth – again exactly as he had asked.
Mistress Jane was, of course completely unaffected by Kay’s distress, and administered the seventeenth stroke.
Kay squealed again, his body wriggling and writhing against the bench.  But the bonds were secure, there would to be no escape for him.
And he had made it absolutely clear that he wanted to receive the full 36 strokes: “I want an ‘authentic experience’,” he had written, “and to know that the punishment is going to be carried out, in full, and that once the punishment has started it will continue to it’s conclusion – no discussion, no negotiation, no stopping and no mercy.”
Kay had asked Mistress Jane to make it memorable, and noisy.
Well, she was doing just that and Kay was about to have an experience that he would remember for a very long time to come . . .

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!”.

 

 

REVIEW 13/05/18

Dear Mistress,

I’d like to thank you and Luna so much for the amazing last session. Highly appropriate that I received my well deserved punishment after you had asserted your dominance to begin with by making me clean your shoes. You looked so commanding and stunning as usual in your black attire, as did Luna of course in her latex.

Meeting Luna was a real surprise, especially after the alternative scenario you teased me about! At least I thought you were.

It was amazing to be allowed to worship her and please pass on my thanks to her for that.

Your Sub Sty

Chastity tips, an indefinite horizon

Chastity tips, an indefinite Horizon
As it’s been a while since I’ve made a contribution here, and as the season of Spring has come upon us, I felt the desire to offer just a few musings of my own regarding firstly chastity, and then my own personal link with that to CP under the administration of Mistress Jane. I hasten to add that these are just a few comments, observations, experiences and reflections, and by no means are gospel, just my own feelings.
I recently heard a horror story about someone who decided to enter the world of chastity using one of those clear polycarbonate devices whose name comprises of two letters followed by four digits…. you all know the one to which I’m referring. Anyway, he turned up for a session one day at the chambers of a most highly respected Mistress, who when they got into commencing the session immediately noticed the very unhealthy state of his cock, which was inflamed and looking almost raw in places, and almost entirely caused by the dastardly device! The device had been on continuously for some time with no removal for purposes of personal hygiene. That particular device needs to be removed almost daily for attending to personal hygiene, so the keyholder must be constantly available. Failure to do so will quickly cause sweatiness within the device, bacteria developing and can easily result in balanitis…. something you do not want to develop! I look upon it either as a novelty or maybe for use in session, or if Mistress decides to lock a sub into one for a couple of days before sending him off down the road. There is no way that one can even insert a couple of cotton buds into the device in order for any sort of cleaning within to take effect.
Essentially, you’re far better off with a stainless steel device, whether it’s off the shelf, and you happen to be extremely lucky with how well it fits your own anatomy, or bespoke from a manufacturer like Mature Metal in Texas, or as I have recently discovered, Red Chili Chastity who are based in both France and Spain. The latter have just supplied me with a London Tower which is a noticeably lighter device than the Jail Bird in which I had been locked since early 2016. I cannot stress how crucial it is to measure oneself accurately, and it’s not easy. Mature Metal actually sell a series of black plastic sizing rings which are fine for their products measured in Imperial, but obviously we go metric with Red Chili  http://malechastity-devices.com/    and must convert carefully if using the American supplied measuring rings. The only other bespoke supplier I’ve come across is a Buckingham based company called Fabrichine Ltd., and you’ll find them via eBay when you search for male chastity devices which will provide a link to them. They’ll build pretty much anything you design, as well as their own offerings.
If you’re going to enter the world of chastity I feel that you are making a huge commitment to both your key holder and oneself, and it’s not something to be undertaken lightly as you need to consider it as a lifestyle which is potentially going to have an indefinite horizon, meaning a period of a few months, a year or two, or in some cases year in year out. Obviously one’s personal status has to be appropriate for this, as being locked for a couple of days and nights when you’re away from home or your partner isn’t chastity control in the true spirit of the word, but more a case of the novelty of being locked in a device by a Mistress and preventing any self abuse for a couple of days. (Please don’t think that I am being arrogant in expressing that, as that’s not intended in any way.) Clearly there is control over your possible actions, but it’s so short term that it doesn’t impact and one doesn’t embrace the frustration aspect of chastity under those circumstances. I’m not a purist by any means, I would hasten to add.
When I was presented with the opportunity to be “owned” and continuing with chastity, I became so very happy, as it’s such a great honour and a huge privilege, and was the opportunity to offer my obedience, faithfulness and total devotion to my Mistress. Put quite simply, Mistress Jane owns my cock and She decides whenever I will have the pleasure of release and relief. That’s the essentials of it, but there are exceptions to almost every rule, and Mistress Jane has all the great qualities of a superb world class Mistress who is sufficiently wise and considerate after a bdsm session, for example where nettles or saline injections have been used on the cock to allow one a specified recovery period outside of being locked in the device. That unfortunately is occasionally when one may succumb to temptation and commit an indiscretion through masturbation. Chastity must always involve honesty in the Mistress/sub relationship, and that’s why I always confess to any sins that I’ve committed, and I always willingly accept the consequences however painful and demanding they may be. If you don’t behave honestly then you’re only cheating oneself, and the relationship becomes meaningless.
There are responsibilities and expectations to face up to in an “owned” and chaste Mistress/sub relationship. Having learnt through experience, it can happen where maybe one has failed in a task or whatever it might be, and surely the worst punishment, far more so than a painful beating, is actually further denial. It is something which Mistress can implement without all the effort and hard work in administering severe CP. The resulting consequence of denial can be frightening and very depressing, bringing one down to a low. The best solution is not to go there….. make sure you get it right! There are so many ways where Mistress always has the upper hand so to speak, but that’s why She is the Mistress and we are mere submissives at Her feet, but those are Her trade secrets and best for one to not find out!
Another feature of long term chastity is frustration, when you’re absolutely desperate for relief and there’s no chance at all of it happening. Sometimes when it’s at its peak, or an extreme level, you can feel that you just need to be f*cked senseless by Mistress….? Frustration is always going to be present during a chastity lifestyle, and I’ve found that one way of combating it is through the administration of regular CP. Some of you may have seen the video clips of Mistress Jane administering a serious caning, or using the Heavy Prison Strap or another item from Her assortment of blunt instruments, and if you have, then you will recognise how highly proficient that Mistress is at CP. Wonderfully so! During a full on CP session, when the point is reached with a release of endorphins and you enter that other world of subspace, I find it must be the resulting “high” that helps to nullify the frustration that’s encountered in chastity. Prior to when we started to explore CP, I never in a million years thought that it was going to become something which I would enjoy doing so much with Mistress Jane, and it’s certainly worked for me!
Those were just a few musings and comments in no particular order by me on my own interpretation of chastity….. my feelings and sentiments. It’s a wonderful experience if you are fortunate to have a Mistress of the calibre and qualities of Mistress Jane.
Keep it #locked and #controlled in divine #chastity @MistressJane3
By Save Phoenix

chastity tips

Your Berkshire Mistress is Back to full duties….

Your Berkshire Mistress is back!! After nearly a month off I will be back to full duties as from tomorrow April 16th. I’ve had a nice break, got lots done, caught up with old friends and had my medical room re vamped. There will be some new additions added over the next few months so keep an eye out for that. There are just a couple of minor things that need finishing off then i will take lots of photos and post them for all to see.

Trixy will be working with Mistress tomorrow and is available to join in your session by request. Lunna Latex will be here later in the week as will a new face, all shall be revealed next week! Should you wish,  Lunna is also available to join you during your session by request.

MistressBerkshire Mistress

T-Girl Gigi spent a day working with me just before I went on my break. After advertising the event, aimed towards the bi curious we found ourselves inundated with enquiries and the day was soon fully subscribed. Needless to say the very naughty T-Girl Gigi will be back. You will find these special events advertised in my blog area.

The Leather Master will be making a re appearance in a couple of months. Again these sessions are aimed towards the bi sub, or the sub who likes to be dominated by a male and yours truly to of course. Again, you will find out when The Leather Master will be nest doubling up with your Berkshire Mistress by keeping an eye on my blog area for when the next date is set for him to return.

The very glamorous Strapon Jane came to play as you may know, and no doubt she will be back soon too! Strapon Jane is available to join me for sessions upon request with prior notice. This wonderful lady is the bees knees and has a wonderful way, and style of domination. Not to be missed!! PS Strapon Jane also specialises is stocking worship amongst other things. 

T-Girl Tessa will be making her debut soon. A stunning T-girl who is up for all sorts of kinky fun….keep your eye on my blog for more updates and photos!

And lastly, my up coming CFNM event. Within four hours of sending out the first tier of notifications, the event was fully subscribed. So congratulations to all who got a place, and commiserations to those who did not. However I have placed those who were not so lucky on my ‘stand by’ list in the event anyone, for what ever reason can not make it. There will be a couple of new faces joining your Berkshire Mistress this year. There will be myself of course, plus four other females to watch, look on, strip you, tease, join in, humiliate and giggle as you are paraded naked before them!

Enjoy!

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

The Whipping Boy Part 5

“Face your front!” Mistress Gwendolyn commanded briskly and as reluctant as he felt, Tom took up the required stance, clutching the edges of the chair’s seat for dear life It cannot be far off five of the clock, the young man pondered sullenly, when is she going to release me so that I may attend the Prince? And damn the Prince, he thought with sudden venom. If the little rascal had not made such a mess of his Latin verbs then I would not be suffering such torment … but that, of course, happened to be precisely the point.

Mistress Gwendolyn glided smoothly into position behind and to the left of him and her fine white teeth flashed as she lowered the cane to the horizontal. “It has a marvellous crooked form does it not, Master Tom? The raised bumps along its length make for some spectacular bruises and the sharp bite it do impart have a truly lasting effect upon the recipient – like a sharp sermon delivered on a frosty morning!” She chuckled once more at her own wit.

“Yes Mistress,” Tom agreed and his sulky mood made him careless. “It is a repandous as the King’s legs ‒ ” Horror-struck at what had just passed his lips he snatched a hand away to cover his mouth.

“Master Tom!” The Lady of the Wardrobe half-laughed and half-gasped in mock horror. It was the worst kept secret at court that the King suffered from rickets and nobody really believed the official story of how his guardian, Sir Robert Carey had cured him of the malady in childhood. “You ought to have your ears shorn off at the pillory for such disloyalty! I was going to give you a dozen – but now you shall receive another six.” She shook her head in supposed sadness, those ringlets falling about her slim shoulders. “You bad, bad boy! In truth I do not know who has been more likely stalled to the rogue: you or your playmate!” Then she set to the denouement of her work.

Tap tappity-tap. The tip of the cane played its little dance upon his mottled proffered buttocks as she measured her first stroke. The ferula was a brutal weapon – a veritable a broadsword or a war hammer in the disciplinarian’s armoury – but the cane, a relatively new import from India required skill and precision, in the manner of a rapier, to employ it properly. “Well, my boy,” she teased him; “you shall earn your firewood this day!” Having gauged the distance, while the poor suffering Tom waited, she gave a deft, lateral flick of the wrist

Thwatt!

A half-strangled cry of pain was wrung from him before Tom almost quite realised it. And immediately came the tormenting, mocking tap-tap-tap as she calculated her second stroke. Again he heard the hollow whoosh of displaced air followed at a discernible interval by that hateful sensation which threatened to overwhelm his senses. His buttocks were erupting, a blistering pain searing through skin and flesh. Every subsequent stroke of the cane seemed to be lacerating them afresh. He desperately wanted to tear his hands away and evade that next blow but he checked himself. He had absolutely no doubt that she meant her threat of a flogging at the at the cart’s arse – a shaming punishment for prostitutes – in front of all those leering, cackling fishwives.

He gripped the chair until his knuckles turned white.

Mistress Gwendolyn paused for a moment to allow him to calm his breathing. Sumptuous and gilded though it undoubtedly was, the court of King Charles could be staid at times with much emphasis on decorum and reverence for the monarch. One had therefore to take one’s pleasures where one could find them. And seeing the young man’s muscular hindquarters positioned over the back of the chair, already crimson in their fury and now transected by mauve lines darkening at their edges, she delighted at the sight of her handiwork – especially when made so on such a fine-looking lad. He was no town-raised cokenay milksop softened by easy living but a village youth, rangy and strong-looking. He took his undeserved punishment stoically: his head of dark locks held low; back straight and legs slightly parted. Other ladies at court would have taken their pleasure with him in a different manner, she knew but this she found much more enjoyable. Oh yes, my laddie, she thought, we shall have this dance again …

Tap-tap- Thwatt! As her victim flinched visibly and as yet another parallel carmine stripe appeared, with its distinctive white line in the middle, she felt her nipples harden beneath her shift and a warm glow stole throughout her body from her loins. She almost lost herself in the sensation but even while drawing back the cane again for its next biting sting she knew she could not exceed the boundaries of the punishment. A solemn responsibility is after all conferred upon the disciplinarian and duty is duty after all. Even so, something about the young man’s dumb resilience, the way he kept his head bowed and suffered that lashing irritated Mistress Gwendolyn in an unfathomable way. He must be close to tears by now, she reasoned and how better to force the issue by a nice, hard low one delivered right across his previous marks — shwack!

The effect proved immediate and dramatic. A piercing howl that most certainly frightened the life out of anyone within earshot in the palace reverberated in the scullery as Tom left to his feet, clutching his backside. Mistress Gwendolyn had to dig the tip of the cane into the floor and rest her palms upon it as she fought the urge to collapse with laughter as he hopped about, hobbled by the garments about his ankles and looking at her in hatred with eyes puffy, red and awash with tears.

“Adjust your hose, my boy and smarten yourself,” she giggled evilly, dabbing her eyes with a lace handkerchief. “It is five of the clock now and I’m sure you will not wish to be late. We spent a merry afternoon together; did we not?”

The glare from Tom’s handsome face slicked by tears told otherwise. He bent forward to pull up his leggings, gasping because the motion caused the skin of his buttocks to stretch. The Lady of the Wardrobe smirked in satisfaction when he winced as the fabric of the hose snapped on the lambasted flesh of his rear end. Taking a small cloth she began wiping her implements clean of the perspiration and other bodily oils before replacing them in the calico: until next time.

“Go to the Prince now and impress upon him how much you have suffered at his behest and of the necessity of his improvement. You are – as no doubt you truly see – the hostage of his good behaviour: the Whipping Boy!”

THE END

Male Milking with The Cock Doctor, Jane.

Male Milking was something that Cock Dr.Jane was very versed in and there were several machines and techniques used solely for this purpose. Each patient had different capabilities to the next and the clinic understood this, what worked for one wouldn’t necessarily work for the next. There were other factors that the medical team needed to take into consideration such as age, fitness and background-did the patient suffer with ED, was he diabetic, had his prostate been removed and so on. There were other factors like stimuli-what visual sights or talk or surroundings turned that particular patient on.

The Cock Clinic catered for all sorts of tastes and fantasies and although many were similar never two were the same. On this particular occasion our patient was in the twilight of his years and before his time was up he felt he needed to explore his deep seated fantasies which he had harboured and kept locked away in his mind since his early 20’s. The thought would not have crossed his mind were it not for the internet which he was recently introduced to by his Grandson. He bought himself a computer and began to browse, the rest is history.

Today he had taken that step in to the unknown, a place of fantasies. He was going to pay a visit to that little harboured fantasy he had kept secret for many years. His stomach churned from the first moment of contact to the very moment he lay back on the medical bed, but he had nothing to lose, it was now or never.

The medical team were dressed in NHS cotton uniforms albeit shorter than the norm. Their stocking clad legs mirrored the very image in his mind. An image from a ‘Carry On’ film that captured his imagination when he was a youngster. The two of them totted around him in their heels as they chatted and discussed the imminent procedure and the Male Milking procedure they were about to undertake. It all felt a bit surreal, as if he were an onlooker peering from behind a door watching and listening to the whole scene.

Nurse Trixy placed on some disposable gloves then positioned herself between his legs which had been separated and raised by the medical bed on which he lay. She put some lube on to her gloves then rubbed her hands together to spread it. Then lubed his limp shaft. Her touch was soft and gentle and for one moment he thought his cock was going to make a come back but alas no luck. This didn’t seem to bother the Nurse what so ever which made him feel a little better about it.

His manly erections had been very intermittent of late and although he could still produce cum he couldn’t always get an erection. Dr.Jane was mean while preparing a machine. She attached an orange cock shaped receiver to a transparent pipe and hung it from a hook which was screwed in to the ceiling directly above his groin. Next a clear cylinder was placed over his shaft and as Nurse Trixy pumped on the tigger his cock began to rise. If it were appropriate to shout ‘Hallelujah’ he would have done just that. As his cock rose he could feel the pressure in the clear cylinder build up, just as it was getting uncomfortable Nurse Trixy pressed the release button to allow air to get in to relieve the pressure, and as the air came in his cock died down with it. “We shall repeat this process several times to get the blood in to your penis” said his very glamorous Nurse. He smiled and watched as she pumped on the tigger. Her ruby red lips parted as she concentrated on the job in hand. Again his cock rose inside the cylinder, it felt good and the more she repeated the process the bigger his cock grew and the better it felt. Eventually Nurse Trixy was satisfied she had gotten him to the desired length. She gently slipped a tight band from the bottom of the cylinder on to the base of his shaft which held his erection. He looked on in amazement as it had been some time since he’d had such a feeling and seen such a sight. With cylinder removed the Nurse stroked his shaft and although he wasn’t as sensitive as he used to be in that area, it felt damned good.

“We shall shortly begin the male milking process we first need to carry out a few small tests” Dr.Jane carried on “We need to check your sensitivity and for that we will be using electro pulses”. Nurse Trixy gave him a re assuring smile before wrapping black rubber loops around his shaft. Dr.Jane attached wires to the loops and the pulses began. Soon they were surging rhythmically up and down his shaft, as if a steely grip had hold. He gave a satisfying sigh and closed his eyes, such an intense sensation, a feeling he had never experienced before and a feeling, although unusual felt very pleasurable. The intensity of the pulses grew as the dial was turned higher. Eventually the loops were removed and also the elastic ring that was placed around his shaft early on. “We don’t wish to de sensitise you” said the Doctor.

A steel tray was brought over. On it were four long stainless steel rods. Nurse Trixy stood between his legs and began to wipe his cock which by now had lost its rigidity, but somehow it no longer mattered to him as he could see it didn’t bother the medical team either way. “I am just going to swab you ready for urethral sounding” said Nurse Trixy as she wiped the head of his cock. Lubricant was dropped on the end of his cock and the tray containing the rods was brought closer. Dr.Jane not stood at the helm holding one of the rods in her right hand and his cock in the other. He gazed at the procedure with great trepidation as the sound entered his urethra and under its own weight slid down his tract. Nurse Trixy moved in close and held his hand to re assure him, but surprisingly he felt nothing to shout about. In fact he could barley feel a thing. Dr.Jane then spoke. “We need to check your tract is clear before we proceed with the male milking process”. The patient nodded and joined in with the banter with a “Of course Doctor”.

Dr.Jane then attached a clip with a wire to the sound, suddenly he could feel a tingling deep within his cock. Nurse Trixy still stood at his side was asked to hold the sound steady while Dr.Jane lubed up her gloved hand slowly pushed a finger in to his rectum. He winced slightly but in for a penny and all that. She then began to carefully rotate her finger and press it ever so slightly. “Hmmmmmmmm” was his initial thought, then “Ahhhhhhhhhh” was his second. It felt rather pleasant in a weird kind of way. The last time anyone had a finger up there was about five years previous when he had a routine medical from the Doctor. He recalled that wasn’t quite as pleasant as on this occasion though.

He had but forgotten about his flaccid cock as it no longer mattered, he was enjoying himself and that is what mattered. The medical team also appeared to be enjoying themselves to, which made all the difference. What more could a man ask for? he had two stunning stocking clad nurses tending to him and he was at the centre of all the attention.

The sounding was completed and his cock was lubed up and placed in the orange cock shaped receiver that Dr.Jane had gotten ready earlier. This time there wasn’t a trigger for the Nurse to pump on, this was a mechanical device. The dial was turned and the machine began to suck his cock in to the receiver. The vacuum was strong and as it sucked and blew, an erection appeared from nowhere. It had been a while since he had had that hard feeling, although admittedly nothing like in his younger years but this was better that nothing. The sensation of the receiver gliding up and down his shaft felt wonderful. He closed his eyes and summoned up a scene from the dark recesses of his mind. The time he met an older woman back in his late twenties. She taught him a thing or two and this was the first woman to ride him on top. Suddenly he could feel her warm wet pussy sliding on his shaft. His breathing deepened, and very soon picked up the pace. He began to gyrate his hips and he thrust in to her, he wanted to keep it going bit a warm feeling took over him and he felt his cock begin to pump as he squirted in to the receiver. The room fell silent and he opened his eyes, smiling and very happy to revisit another fantasy one day soon.