Oh, my sweet and darling readers. You’ve been so good. You’ve been SO patient. I have so much gratitude for your excellent behavior; I can only hope this will be worth the wait.
nonconsent
They were always carrying equipment into the half-constructed house at the end of the cul-de-sac. Sawhorses, power tools, coils of rope and cases of bolts and fasteners. Big long crates, too, heavy enough that they needed two men to carry them, or sometimes to stack them on a forklift.
They left the floodlights on inside all night, and ran heavy machinery at odd hours, grinding or shrieking or clattering and bothering the neighbors. Eventually they complained enough that a man came out from the county to talk to them. He stayed inside for a couple hours and then left, returning several more times over the next week. His final report was that he couldn’t find any evidence of a problem.
Kelly used to bike by the place all the time when she was younger. Now, at nineteen, she’s finally seeing what it’s like inside. You wouldn’t expect a normal house to take years of building, would you? Who would wait that patiently for their home to be completed? Who knows. Construction projects always take longer than you expect.
It wasn’t a real border crossing detention center; she’d figured that out when they stuffed the ball gag between her teeth. It had cut off the sputtering protests about her passport and questions about where they’d taken her friends quite effectively. Something told her that there would come a time soon when they’d start asking pointed questions; they just probably wouldn’t care what she answered.
In the meantime, though, they had dragged her off into one of the cinder-block cells for the “courtesy” of a private pat-down. The agent assigned to her seemed much more concerned with some areas than others. At one point, he rummaged in his pocket, pulled out a little plastic bag with a foil packet in it, and tossed it nearby.
“Oh, it was very unwise to try to import this particular substance,” he purred, holding her squirming body against the hot concrete. “The minimum sentence is five years of labor. Labor for which you will need very thorough training. And if we find anything else tucked away inside you, tourist girl…” He shoved her dress up and adjusted the glove on his fingers, grinning. “There may be a corporal element to your sentence as well.”
Panting in fear, knees trembling, undeniably dripping with things other than sweat, she got the distinct feeling that she’d find one particular thing tucked inside her very soon.
Behavior correction case file #902: Alex. Subject was introduced socially to Dr. L, and was diagnosed “in the wild” with sexual frustration, general insolence, and an inability to self-manage combined with an independent streak too wide for her own good. She was referred for an evening assessment by our house-call team. Subject displayed vehement disagreement with the team’s conclusions and was restrained for her own safety. Continued restraint is advised, for the time being, except when under strict supervision.
Alex is a natural submissive in deep denial of her essential self, which means she has been suffering emotional pain and dissonance for some time without being able to identify a cause. This in turn has led to her becoming hostile and lashing out at herself as well as those around her. Fortunately, our staff is accustomed to such referred pain, and even better, we have the tools to deal with it.
The subject will begin each morning with a sensory overload regimen: ritual bondage, exposure, depilation if necessary, and heavy applied stim to the nerve centers of maximum humiliation. Forced orgasm is an expected byproduct of this treatment, and we will of course track any such effects. Feel free to question the subject about her experience, though she is not expected to respond usefully for some time. In no case is the treatment to cease before the subject has screamed herself hoarse.
By this time, the subject should be more pliable. Take her to the workroom of choice and consult the attached training syllabus for the topics we expect to cover. They include oral, anal and vaginal service, self-identification and understanding of her new role, proper posture, apparel selection or lack thereof, pain management, and a very thorough course in obedience by means of operant conditioning. Feel free to continue education for as many shifts as seem appropriate; in case the subject’s energy levels seems to be flagging, remember that workrooms are stocked with fresh tubs of ice water hourly.
We will evaluate the subject’s progress each month, and expect to see significant improvement in attitude and aptitude by Q2. At this point, Dr. L plans to conduct a series of personal evaluations of her self-image and embrace of her most genuine self, and may take her on as a personal project. We expect that by then, she will be grateful for the opportunities offered by such focused work with a supervisor. Be sure to remind Alex just what a lucky subject she is.
Behavior correction case file #114: Jennifer. WARNING: subject is noncompliant and presents a danger to staff and herself. She claims to be a close friend of another long-term patient of the Institute, and attempted to enter the facility undetected to secure her release. During the process of her apprehension by security, subject injured several orderlies and a doctor, and continued to be uncontrollably violent until forcibly sedated.
For her own protection, Jennifer has been fitted with a set of long-term restraints and secured via suspension in a padded ward. Said restraints are to remain in place until both her primary and attending therapist have confirmed that she is no longer dangerous. It is not expected that such confirmation will arrive this year.
During her intake interview, subject indicated certain opinions that point toward specific anxieties in regard to sex, deviance and femininity. The first object of her treatment will be to explore and exploit these to the limit. Subject’s vulva will remain symbolically above her during all sessions, kept open via spread leg restraints, and covered only to maximize the impact of repeated revelation.
Jennifer will be subject to impact therapy and corporal punishment of labia, clit, vagina and cervix until fully sensitized. When hypersensitivity to even light pressure is established, the therapy will switch to heavy stim and dual penetration. Each morning and afternoon, repeat this set of exercises–restarting if necessary–until subject can actually watch herself drip with arousal. Induce orgasm only via electricity and pain; once achieved, continue to induce for the remainder of the session, even if that means a considerable part of the day.
The incontrovertible evidence of her own arousal response to such treatment, combined with her residence environment, should lead to deep cognitive dissonance and humiliation for the subject. We will take advantage of this liminal state to plant new seeds for a healthier, more accepting, more sexuality-driven outlook.
We have high hopes for Jennifer’s rehabilitation, and will likely keep her on even after a successful course of treatment is complete to use as a model resident. In the same way that “therapy dogs” can provide comfort and pleasure to the traumatized, we plan to use Jennifer as a “therapy object” upon which other patients may express their frustration or violent impulses.
All that is in the future, of course–right now let’s concentrate on reducing the risk of harm to others, by inflicting harm on her. –DT
Behavior correction case file #874: Andrea. Subject is a journalist who has been publicly critical of the Institute and its methods, and who has gone to great effort to publicize our rather discreet facility and draw media attention. The Board was content to maintain our policy of not talking to the press until it became clear that the subject had compromised the privacy of patient records as part of her crusade. With the help of the Institute’s friends in influential government positions, subject was admitted to determine the extent of her dangerous obsession.
Andrea poses a conundrum: how are we to combat her monomania with regard to our organization without, in turn, reinforcing said monomania? Our current plan is to replace her focus on the Institute with one more immediate and pressing, and then begin to work on her generalized priorities while her superego is decommissioned.
To that end, subject has been assigned to an experimental new form of storage locker, designed for violent or problem patients. She will be exposed, locked into rigorous restraint, and fitted with an anal contraction monitor that will monitor her approach to orgasm. This monitoring, in turn, will inversely control stim level, as well as oxygen restriction via throat chain.
Combined, this simple system has shown the ability to keep test subjects at a full 99.9% edge for at least 72 hours at a stretch. Interestingly, the technique is more effective when the subject is resistant to the training method, which gives us high hopes for this application. Sleep deprivation is a useful side effect for molding the subject’s worldview, as well.
Be sure to check the subject every day or two and assess current ability to vocalize, answer questions, and recall simple facts; within months she should reach a state of sufficient pliability to record a voluntary admission statement, waiver, surrender of power of attorney, and so on. We can then draw up a fuller treatment plan that will incorporate the desires of the many staff therapists who would like to work personally with her.
Obviously, even after the first stage of treatment is complete, subject is to be clitlocked and have self-touch permissions withheld. Soon climax will be her only conceivable goal, and all her investigative reporting will fade from public consciousness. Estimated time to first orgasm: one year.
Behavior correction case file #834: NAME EXPUNGED. Subject shown after being fitted and prepped for custom travel unit. Our half of the exchange for #833, she proved reluctant to fully engage with our therapies here, despite the certain fact that we had only her best interests at heart. It is our hope that our Austrian colleagues will find her more receptive.
Subject has had all previous forms of identity removed, not merely from the Institute’s databases but from all public records as well. She is now identified only by a bar code tattooed inside her right wrist, and is legally nameless, stateless and essentially without rights. This should ease her transition across borders, since she is shipping classified as livestock.
The transport rig has been tested for rugged security and will withstand even a prolonged struggle to escape, even if the subject demonstrates the rather vigorous thrashing she has been known to display during orgasm. The underside of the platform is loaded with high-capacity batteries, which should power the Hitachi for eleven minutes out of each hour of the trip. Subject has previously shown time to climax of 5-15 minutes at full stim. The pressure gauge probes fitted into both of her lower holes should provide a useful graph of orgasmic activity over time at the end of her trip.
The batteries will also power the electromagnet manipulating subject’s nipple chain, as well as her headphones, which are playing a 400-minute loop of her previous therapy sessions in the Problem Patients wing. Subject was required to confess to her own flaws, willful attitude and aberrant desires after each session, but would inevitably later recant. It is our hope that listening to herself for emphasis will drive the point home.
While all of us at the Institute will miss working with NAME EXPUNGED, we believe this trip will be good for her and for our relationship with the Austrian facility. They have promised to spare no expense or method rehabilitating her, and will keep us up to date with regular video dispatches.
Behavior correction case file #833: ??? Subject arrived in secure packaging from the Institute’s sister establishment in Austria. As part of a patient exchange program and experiment in double-blind testing, we know very little about her personal history or any specific conditions. Instead, our goal is to treat her based entirely on what we can divine from empirical evidence.
While bondage-tape dressings may be changed, the subject is not to have blindfold or gag removed for the duration of her stay, so as not to provide data that might contaminate the experiment. Subject appears to have been mechanically stimulated at random for the duration of her transit, and now displays a high-adrenaline response to the specific frequency sound of the vibrator that was packaged with her. Consider using this sound to discourage behavior if necessary.
Upon arrival, the subject was placed in an examination table and spread open, from which we learned the following:
- subject is a healthy female in her mid-20s, with sexual experience, who has never given birth.
- subject is functionally orgasmic given sufficient stimulation, and displays signs of multiorgasmia upon extended heavy stim.
- subject’s reactions to tickling, ice, hot wax, and cropping are all within expected parameters.
- subject responds in a manner consistent with modest experience in anal sex.
- subject’s available holes provide pleasant use, somewhat enhanced if play is left in restraints so that subject can struggle.
Next stage in diagnosis is to ship her down to the garage, where subject will be tried on each of fucking machines 6 through J, one 24-hour period each. Measure vaginal pulse amplitude over time, anal contraction, and degree of struggle versus blood oxygenation, and take a periodic sample of nipple firmness.
(When series is complete, have her reboxed and delivered to my satellite lab. I have a few fairly exotic works in progress that could use a blind test. I wonder how she’ll take the Corkscrew. –DT)
With her hands tied behind her back, Cassie can just about manage to support herself and keep her face above the surface, though she strains and trembles with the effort. They’ve left her there to just float, sometimes, feeling the water cool slowly around her as she listens to them going through her things, inspecting her computer.
Then one or two of them will come back in and resume their little game.
She’d call it an interrogation except that they long ago stopped asking questions. They just grip her hair–or sometimes, with an odd tenderness, touch her forehead–and begin to push her under. She used to take the deepest breath she could manage. By now she’s almost stopped trying.
They play with her while they hold her down, squeeze or grope her breasts (nipples wet, cool and stiff) or her belly, her hip or throat. At first she convulsed and thrashed and tried to throw them off, to absolutely no effect except that her oxygen ran out faster–and for every time she splashed them, they started dropping in a tray of ice cubes. Now she just tries to ride it out, wait for the panic to rise in her throat and her body to start arching desperately upward for air. It’s going to happen every time. It’s going to keep happening. They’ll take all the time they want to make sure the conditioning sets.
And it is conditioning, and the conditioning works. Down at the other end of the tub, where her knees are doubled and locked tight to keep her from getting out, dangles the shower head. It’s an expensive one. It can spray, or stream, or send a stuttering thud of water pressure wherever they point it. Every time they push her under, they aim it at her clit.
At least, she tells herself as the older one strokes the gently waving hair from her forehead, it’s not easy to see that she’s wet.
It takes at least a few hours to stop heaving and shaking after the unfreezing process; Maris had no chance to protest, much less fight back, when they pulled her out of the hissing cryo chamber and bound her taut in the echoing warehouse.
“Wh-what the fuck is g-going AUGH!” she managed, before a sharp smack landed on her bare pussy. You’d think being frozen would numb you, but no: every nerve in her body was tingling as if she’d been naked in the snow and then thrust in front of a fire.
“Interesting thing about cryogenics,” said her captor, a blurry face and a dangerously soft voice. “Did you know that if you’re frozen 364 days out of the year, you’re legally dead? A strange little provision for experimental treatments, I understand.”
“But I’m–I don’t even know why I was–let me G-GO!” Maris hiccuped, squirming in the ropes. Condensation dripped down her shivering body as she felt her legs drawn slowly farther apart.
“Oh, I don’t know why you were frozen either.” A shrug she could read through her blurry vision. “All the records for this facility were destroyed in a terrible accident. Isn’t that awful to hear?”
“Look, I can tell you, my n-name is Maris–” And with that, before she could react, she felt the ball gag forced between her chattering teeth.
“Ah ah ah! Don’t want to use your real name in this kind of video. Not while you’re being streamed live.”
“STMMMED?”
That vicious little chuckle again, as one finger traced a droplet of moisture from her throat to her stiff nipple. “Oh yes. You’re our twenty-third show of the year, ice princess, and people pay quite a lot of money to see what we do to popsicles like you.”
Maris was finally starting to recover, but that sentence set her pulse to an alarm-bell pace. She cast her gaze around wildly, trying to make her eyes focus on what must be cameras and spotlights.
A hand drew itself down her body, gathering the slippery lube that had been used to keep her skin from freezer burn, and then slowly began to push up into her. Maris squealed as she realized the nerves inside her cunt were just as oversensitive as the rest of her. She tried to buck and jerk, but all her body would do was slowly writhe.
“There’s a good little dead girl,” laughed her captor. “Don’t worry–it’s only twenty-three hours and forty-two minutes before your time is up and we put you back on cold storage. In the meantime, we can do anything we fucking want to your perfectly preserved and helpless body, and no matter how many screens you appear on, no one’s going to do a thing about it. So settle in and enjoy yourself. You’ll get a year off to rest soon, after all.”
The click of a buzzing vibrator; the testing whistle of a whip. “Of course, I suppose it’s going to SEEM like every waking day is like this now. But don’t worry, sweet icebox. The novelty’s not going to wear off for me…”
“You look confused, Melanie. Perhaps you expected to wake up in a more compromising position? Or perhaps you simply never expected to see me again. You thought I’d dropped out of sight and out of your life. Oh, silly girl. I’ve just been biding my time.”
“I admit in my early stages of planning I fantasized about tying your legs open–I’ve got plenty of pipe down here to use for spreader bars, as you see. But my observation of your habits taught me better. Keeping your legs open is hardly your problem. In fact, you little slut, I had to go back for thicker rope to make sure the knots would keep them closed.”
“No, we’re going to play a different game. Your breasts are rather sensitive, as my nocturnal surveillance indicated, and I like a challenge. I wonder if that’s amplified by the adrenaline you feel now, hmm? I wonder how you deal with stimulation while you’re bound, mute and helpless. I wonder exactly what I can do to you without removing either your jeans or your shirt.”
“Yes, that’s just duct tape on your face, and I know it’s not much of a gag. In fact, with the things I’m about to do to you, I imagine you’ll sweat off the tape rather quickly. So here’s a challenge to me, I suppose. Using just my hands and mouth and these lovely little tools, can I reduce you to incoherent begging before you manage to get the tape off your mouth? Can I get you wet despite yourself? Can I get that omnivorous pussy of yours to soak right through your jeans?”
“I believe I can. Let’s get started, shall we? And try not to wriggle too much–I’d hate to have to chain these clamps to a pipe just to get you to hold still.”
Up on the auction stage it’s all glamor and clever lighting, the audience in their finest formalwear and masks, the occasional gasp when two or three of them get into a bidding war over a particularly enticing new slave. The girl in question is pinned down by a spotlight, slowly turned and displayed as the auctioneer murmurs “seventy… eight… one hundred thousand to the gentleman… one ten to the lady in green…”
Down below it’s more utilitarian. These are the house trainers’ last remaining moments with the girls they’ve spent weeks breaking, and there is no particular incentive to treat them kindly, or like anything but chattel. They want you tired and obedient for your new owner. They want you to tremble appealingly as you’re packaged up and trucked away.
These four won’t ever get to see the world upstairs; they’re being sold as part of a bulk lot of five, probably to a competitor’s house that thinks they can be assessed and tracked into specialty training. One girl from the lot is on stage now, representing them; these four will simply be slid farther down along the track when the purchase is made, strapped into their new owner’s transport, and shuttled off to a similar dingy storage area in their new home.
The girl on the left was a promising young tennis player; the one next to her was her coach. The others were a PR intern, a camgirl and an au pair. They would never have had much in common except that the house decided that this was how they’d bring in the most value. Now their fates are temporarily bound together, as they wait, squirming and helpless, to find out if they’ll be given to a relatively gentle life of domestic slavery or–more likely–something considerably crueler.
“One forty,” says the auctioneer. “One forty going once… going twice…”
“These are called travel straps,” he said, not without a hint of kindness, as he cinched them up around her tense limbs and torso. “The extra loops are for the suspension system in the–well, you’ll see. It’s mostly to keep you and the others from hurting yourselves by struggling while we’re in transit.” He stood back and smirked a little. “Although they are not without aesthetic appeal.”
She’d been compliant, so far; he’d showed her his weapon when he woke her, told her quietly that he wouldn’t be violent if she didn’t make him, and aside from her fight-or-flight anger and a series of verbal barbs about his manhood she’d obeyed his instructions. The fact that she was being kidnapped–and professionally so–seemed to be setting in now, though. She’d been more and more quiet as he’d efficiently stripped her and buckled her up.
“One more piece,” he said, flipping open part of his matte black case and taking out the thick posture collar. “Normally I’d gag you as well, but you don’t seem to have much to say at the moment. And I don’t think you’re going to try screaming. Are you?”
Silence.
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “See, when you don’t answer me–when we can’t have a dialogue at all–that actually makes me nervous.” He reached down and grabbed the rings at her sternum and belly, lifting her up; she couldn’t stay entirely silent at that, gasping at how easily he shifted her, and at the way the thick strap suddenly dug into her crotch.
He carried her over to the faux fur rug he’d brought in with him–she’d already figured out that he planned to wrap her in it, then carry her out in broad daylight–and set her down again. She sagged against her bonds, trying not to let him see her face, but he ran two fingers down the thick strap to her little patch of fuzzy curls.
“Now, all the other girls on this trip have a little company to keep them amused,” he said, slowly pressing the flat leather against her. “A little battery-powered friend underneath here.” She kept her eyes turned away, but he could see the flush spread over her chest, see the subtle shift of her hips. Her lips were swollen around the edges of the strap, and moisture beaded on them. “But that wasn’t a kindness. That was a punishment, because none of them were quite as well-behaved as you. Are you proud of yourself for avoiding it, Alexis?”
“You don’t get to call me by my first name,” she said, in a low, cold voice.
“Perhaps I don’t,” he said, amused. He tipped her chin up with one finger, gathered her hair and picked up the collar to work it into place. She was breathing fast through her nose, jaw clenched, swallowing with a little difficulty under the d-ring as he got it locked shut.
“But I have to call you something,” he said, giving each of the straps a final tug to make sure they were secure. “And you’re… unusual, so far. Not quite deserving of the usual pejoratives. Not a pet. Not a slut. Not a slave… yet.”
“Call me your opponent,” she said, looking up at last with suppressed defiance in her eyes.
“Oh my,” he murmured, a grin crooking his mouth. “As you wish.”
Behavior correction case file #763: Dr. Ellie Graves. Subject was formerly the lead therapist of Division G, a promising young doctor with a great future at the Institute ahead of her. Surveillance of her personal Internet traffic, however, revealed plans to take certain concerns about Institute policies to federal authorities. Subject was admitted as quickly as possible and it is not believed that she was able to disclose any sensitive patient information at this time.
Ellie completed an extensive personality profile during her application process, which provides a number of insights into a proper treatment plan. Subject fears but is fascinated by electrostim and predicament bondage. Subject can deal with nudity, but is easily embarrassed by slow, gradual removal of clothing. Subject has had mostly female sexual partners but reported intense responses to forceful sex with men. Subject has speculated about being conditioned to climax on command.
As might be expected, subject has employed the listed techniques on previous patients, several of whom (case files 188, 242, 439 and 751) have responded with enthusiasm to the prospect of being personally involved with her rehabilitation. They are to be given a large degree of autonomy in working with her, but sessions should be monitored to make sure the subject is not in excessive danger.
While some of the staff of Division D have what would be considered an existing relationship with the subject, and would normally recuse themselves under Institute rules, this is a special case and the division heads have given permission for her handlers to indulge any previous speculation on the subject’s sexual ability.
Hypothesis: while knowledge of our standard practices should provide the subject with a modicum of resistance at first, within a month of commencing treatment, she will be malleable, fully sexually activated and compliant with all standard training guidelines for a female patient. While she will unfortunately no longer be useful as a colleague at the Institute, she will be in no danger of reporting anything to anyone, which will mark a successful rehabilitation.
When all involved are satisfied with her correction, Ellie is to be placed on fucktoy rotation, level 9.
Behavior control case file #312: Vanessa. Subject generally willful, insistent that she can achieve orgasm only during solo masturbation, and lacking in libido. Surveillance of such habits, however, indicates a distinct preference for masochism, female submission, and predicament bondage. Note: subject referred to the Institute by partner under misleading pretenses and will likely be uncooperative.
Vanessa will be kept in some form of restraint at all times and displayed for observation by visiting colleagues for at least an hour a day. She will be mechanically stimulated upon waking each morning and will have two orderlies assigned to maintain her state of arousal until curfew. In between, she will undergo a series of therapeutic sessions designed to retrain her orgasmic response and obstinacy.
Pictured above is one such session. After being harness-bound and edged, Vanessa is submerged and must lift her hips above water to request being lifted out of the tub. Clitoral/vaginal stimulus will commence for fifteen to thirty seconds before she is lifted by her harness, hair, or nipples out of the water and allowed to breathe. As she shows signs of approaching climax, stimulus will be removed and subject will be dropped back in.
If desperation and self-degradation seem sufficient, subject will be permitted orgasm just as she is once more denied breath. Current recommendation is no more than twelve such permissions per day.
Hypothesis is that within the first week of such therapy, Vanessa will have a baseline elevated arousal level and willingness to submit, as well as quite literally associating breathing with pleasure and need. Follow up with forced orgasm regimen (type H or J), then fucktoy rotation on level 6.
–
(This series is inspired by a number of things, but most obviously by pleasuretorture’s experiments.)
There wasn’t actually a bed in the house. The owners slept on a big slab of Ikea foam right on the floor, which was probably just as comfortable anyway, except that the lack of bedframe made it hard to tie someone down. That was the third complication the burglars faced. The second was that they hadn’t realized Cassie would be housesitting at all.
She’d been a couple days late–so what, the plants would be fine, she thought. Unfortunately, she timed her arrival while the three thieves were still in the house. They grabbed her before she could figure out what was happening, made it clear what would happen to her if she screamed for help, and improvised.
Tacks, hammer, scissors and an old nylon tie-down from the garage. Cassie found herself stripped quite efficiently and pinned down at twenty-four points, right in the middle of the living room where they could keep an eye on her. Then they went through her bag, and her misfortune doubled.
Cassie had planned on having a little time to herself at the house, so she’d brought her Hitachi, along with the rubber gag she liked to bite down on when she came. She hadn’t expected anyone to see them. She definitely hadn’t expected her captors to see her visible trembling or the flush that crept up her neck when they stuffed it in her mouth. She hadn’t expected them to figure out quite so fast what this situation was doing to her flooding cunt.
The owners would be back in five days or so. Nobody really expected to hear from Cassie in that time. Nobody would be coming by the house. The burglars had several days to do whatever they wanted to her taut and helpless body, and the nice thing about a Hitachi is that it doesn’t have batteries to exhaust.
Because the first complication they’d found–the one they were pretty sure Cassie could help them solve, once sufficiently persuaded–was the safe.
They had plenty of time to try combinations themselves, while they kept her pinned down and squirming, the vibrator thrumming against her aching pussy. They could hear it every time she came–the straining against the nylon, the squeaking of her teeth against the ball. Over a day of forced orgasms, well into the dozens, and Cassie was more than ready the combination–
If only she knew.
If only she could say so.
If only she wasn’t afraid of what would happen if they found out she lied…