orgasm control
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.
Housebound chapter 8 is live at Literotica.
I don’t know why I can’t get enough today, I got a nice hard fuck earlier and my boyfriend let me use the toy to cum while he was inside me. Then a couple hours later he let me cum again, and here I am still rubbing my clit as I scroll through tumblr, feeling like an insatiable little fuckslut. I guess once last night and once this afternoon isn’t enough for me, it just makes me want more. Makes me crave more until I feel like I’m nothing but this hole between my legs, waiting to get used again. @doctortease, does the Institute have a treatment for this feeling?
Behavior Correction Case File #451: Justice. Subject displays excessive libido, to the point of interference with her day-to-day life, comorbid by exaggerated focus on her own genitalia and a self-centered objectification fantasy. Subject displays high-risk behavior by reaching out to strangers on the Internet to deal with these issues.
While one might read Justice’s dossier and decide that an “insatiable little fuckslut” is exactly what the Institute aims to produce, her case in fact demonstrates a known issue encountered in later stages of treatment. The issue centers on self-absorption. Even after accepting an orgasm control regimen and having her self-concept reduced to “nothing but a hole,” the subject may end up in a psychological cul-de-sac where her own satisfaction is both paramount and unattainable.
We at the Institute, of course, wish nothing more than to help our subjects transcend such obstacles on the road to becoming their best selves. The first step for Justice is a hard reset–a period of weeks during which she will be used, punished, rewarded or locked away in the dark completely at random, until she can no longer imagine a logical pattern of reinforced behavior and all previous training is effectively erased. This is traditionally quite hard on the subject, but necessary, and within the parameters of her assessed resilience.
When she’s ready, we will begin again from scratch, focusing on the following points: that her pleasure is someone else’s choice, and has no relationship to satisfaction; that insatiable need is a baseline state, and comforting; and that in addition to her vagina and vulva, all her orifices are of equal importance, and dedicated to the use of others.
This treatment plan will be effective if followed properly. Nonetheless, there is significant risk that Justice will fall back into her current pattern if not closely monitored for deviation from expected progress. Cases such as hers are among our most important work, so no matter how many times we have to reset her and start over, we are committed to doing this right.
A simple game for one player.
To play a round, masturbate to edge, using whatever media or tools you find appropriate. Hold your breath, and the edge, for ten seconds. Then take your hand away and flip a coin.
If it’s tails, you don’t get to come. If you wish, you may wait five minutes without touching yourself, then play another round.
If it’s heads, you do get to come. Get yourself off and say a silent thank you. Then take a permanent marker and draw a small tally mark somewhere private on your body–say, the inside of your thigh.
The next time you play a round of the game, you have to flip the coin one extra time for each mark you’ve made on yourself. If any of those coins are tails, see the “if it’s tails” result above. If all of them are heads, you do get to come… and add another mark.
Those of you who can do a little quick math have already realized that the odds of your being permitted climax will rapidly diminish. If and when you get desperate, there are two ways to reset the count. First: if you wait long enough that the marker washes off your skin, to the point where a given mark is actually no longer visible even if you’re looking for it, that mark no longer counts toward your total. Second: if you have sex that involves your being penetrated, you may draw a line through any one cluster of marks, and ignore them from then on.
There’s only one more rule to this game, and I’m afraid it puts the lie to earlier, when I told you it was for one player.
Once you’ve started playing, you aren’t allowed to quit until you ask.
Honestly I really wish there was something that could (for awhile) make me physically unable to cum without permission. Anything so that I could stay right on the edge, trying as hard as can but I can’t get over. Reduced to a writhing, desperate, begging slut who’d do anything you wanted, but you still say no.
What an interesting idea.
Jewel
She’d been a little nervous, at the clinic, as they lifted up the silly little gown and rubbed the topical anesthetic onto her. He’d held her hand, and winked at her, reminding her of the time they’d tried playing with numbing gel to desensitize her. (It hadn’t worked, of course; she just got too excited, too sensitive inside, and came anyway. Hair-trigger girl, she scolded herself.)
But her anxiousness was unfounded: she didn’t feel a thing as they did the installation, and it only took a few minutes. The crystal pattern they’d picked out together was a little extra, but he’d been more than happy to pay for it. “I like that you’ll be able to see it when you look down, just a little,” he said, holding the mirror for her as she gently traced her finger around the edges, watching it glitter as she breathed. “I like knowing that you’ll remember, even if the implant’s turned off.”
“And how often are you going to turn it off?” she smirked.
It turned out the answer was “never.”
It drove her fucking crazy. As soon as it became clear she wasn’t allowed to come, wasn’t ABLE to come, it was all she could think about. She thought about it at work, in the car, at her book club, at dinner. Her friends started teasing her about her attention span because of how often she got caught staring off at nothing, lips slightly parted, lost in embarrassing thought. The whole situation kept her so wet that she had to start carrying a spare pair of panties in her bag–then two pairs. When she opened it at the end of the day, she could smell her own need, and she usually had to shove a hand up her skirt and edge right then and there.
That only made it worse, of course. She’d known the implant would let her edge but not go over, but she hadn’t known, really known how high and keen that edge could be. It was a ragged knife inside her, a clamp on her brainstem, a drug that hooked her on her own cunt. He didn’t even need to get out her vibrator–though he still did anyway, sometimes. Just his cock or his fingers inside her were enough to send a spike of desperation all the way up her spine, and there was absolutely, positively no answer to her screamed or whimpered prayers.
“So,” he said softly in her ear, spent and satisfied as she lay there, breathing, lost in the throb of her own constant need. “Four weeks since the appointment. This is when we were going to decide whether to keep it, right?”
“Uh huh,” she managed, as if she’d had any idea. Had it been a day already? Had it not been a year?
He traced one finger from her mouth down her throat, over her arching belly, to brush the sparkling glow between her legs. Her body was immediately ready, deep ache wrapped around sharp pleasure. “What’s it like to be a hair-trigger girl,” he asked, “when the safety’s on?”
“Dangerous,” she whispered, and let him pin her into place again.
Behavior correction case file #10011A. Subject was followed, observed and recorded by a specialty team for two weeks before intake, in order to establish an unbiased diagnosis. Subject’s attractiveness is not in question, and indeed monitoring her habits while alone and when consuming pornography indicate no significant problem with nudity in concept or practice. The operative part of her stated problem is indeed a fear of exposure. We will therefore begin with exposure therapy.
Subject will of course be stripped upon intake, and will remain unclothed for the duration of her stay. She will also be blindfolded, and both her vision and her movement will continue to be constrained during each session with her treatment team. Said team will inform and remind her that they were assigned to watch her at all times during the assessment period, through every private moment, and that there is nothing left for her to hide from them. They will reinforce this message with touch therapy and manual stimulus. Subject’s physical arousal will be taken to edge steady-state and held there for the duration of each session; data on the subject so far indicates that such a state will depress her overactive executive function and generally augment the effectiveness of treatment. Only at the conclusion of each session, during an extended orgasm, will the subject’s blindfold be removed long enough for her to be forced to watch herself–exposed and observed at a moment traditionally granted only in intimate settings.
Over time we believe the subject will not merely grow used to nudity, which would be simple to accomplish but also miss the deeper issue. In addition, she will acquire a conditioned arousal response to all feelings of exposure or humiliation that bypasses her hesitation and doubt entirely. Such a response should not only alleviate any sexual performance issues she had experienced in the past, but will make her a valuable addition to the therapy objects stored in Annex G2. This treatment plan gives us, at least, a great deal of confidence.
“Hi, baby. Can you hear me?” He squinted at the screen, looking at the little mirror image of himself in the corner, then tilted it so the camera wasn’t pointed directly into the light.
Her face appeared, frozen for a second, then block, then moving, grinning. “Hey!” she said. “Is it working? Is it there?”
“Yeah!” he stepped away from the monitor so she could see their surrogate, kneeling on the bed, lace mask pulled over its face and implant status light pulsing slowly at the nape of its neck. It was nude and still but for its breathing, curled slightly in on itself, waiting.
On the monitor, she bit her lip. “Fuck. You got a cute one.”
“Aww, you like it? I tried to pick one as close as I could get to you.” He looked down at it, tugging at his lip, his eyes hungry. “Wanna try it out?”
“Yeah. Yeah.” She picked up the collar and its trailing wires, fastened it, and made sure the cold contact metal patches were touching her throat. “Okay, try something.”
He reached out and ran the backs of his nails down the surrogate’s chest, around the side of its breast to its inner arm. Goosebumps rose on its pale skin. Through the speakers, she gasped.
“Fuck. Oh man. I didn’t think it would be that clear!” She wrapped her arms around herself and giggled. “Do it again. God, I miss you. It feels so good to have your hands on me again…”
He squeezed its arms, its shoulders, then settled his hands on its hips and pulled it in close to his chest. She let out a little hum of pleasure, feeling the heat of his body against her back. “Should I, like… move it so it’s sitting like you are?” he asked.
“I think you should move it so it’s sitting on your dick,” she said, hand stealing down into her shorts.
He laughed. “You sure?”
“Baby, I have been fucking starving for you,” she growled. “We can cuddle after. I wanna see just how much of you I can feel…”
Needing little encouragement, he wriggled out of his shirt and pants, springing out hard and lifting the surrogate’s yielding body up to part its thighs. It was wet, of course, warm and slick, and if it didn’t feel exactly like she did, well…
“Oh fuck,” she gasped, arching a little on the screen. “Oh my god. Oh fuck, I didn’t think… I can feel how tight it is AND how hard you are, baby… you don’t have to put on a condom or anything, right?”
“Nah, the service takes care of all that,” he grunted, pushing deeper inside it. “God. This is so much better than jacking off to your snapchats, I can’t believe we didn’t try it before!” He picked it up and started to rock its hips back against him, and she groaned and lifted herself a little off her chair.
“They must be so well-trained–there’s no way I’d be able to hold that still if you were really inside me.” She bit her lip. “Can you make it move some more?”
“I think there’s a command, yeah. Um. Kivirmak?”
It had already been trembling a little, holding back, but now it arched and bucked and–he thought–barely contained a whimper of its own. He grinned with pleasure, slowing his thrusts, and both she and it squirmed with frustration.
“You playing with yourself, baby?” he said, panting a little.
“Yeah, why? Are you–oh my GOD,” she said, eyes going wide as he reached down to roll its clit between finger and thumb. “Holy fuck! I can feel–you and it and me–all on top of each other–”
He moaned, grabbing it by the shoulder and settling back on his heels, pulling its weight down on top of his cock and making it bounce a little. He could feel its breath hitching; he gave it a playful slap between its legs. Both of them jumped, and she let out a little squeak.
“Is it close, baby?” she managed. “Because I am.”
“Sure feels like it,” he said. “Mmmmfuck. But I don’t think it can have an orgasm unless I give that command too.”
Her eyes were dark and glittering, and she had one finger between her teeth as she rolled her hips against her other hand. “Do it,” she said. “Make it come.”
“Hadi,” he said.
The surrogate definitely did let out a little noise then, legs shaking, gripping the sheets. On the monitor, she caught her breath and rubbed herself faster. “Fffffuck,” she whispered, “it’s like I can feel it but not actually go over–oh God–can you–can you make it go again?”
He did, and that time, watching it and feeling it clench and writhe and shudder, they both came with it.
“Don’t take this the wrong way,” he said lazily, afterward, running his fingers over its goosebump skin again, “but I kinda wanna rent one for when we actually do this again in person too.”
“Fuck yes,” she murmured. “Let’s get two.”
He picked out their outfits day by day whenever he went out of town (business trips, mostly, or scouting, or someday–they dared to hope–finding them another playmate). Some days they got to wear pretty, modest things like nice young ladies, and even leave the house. Some days they didn’t get to wear anything at all. And some days they had to flip a coin to see who had to wear the good-girl shirt, and who got to be bad.
There were strict rules about what they could do to themselves and each other when he wasn’t home. But good girls had to do what they were told, and bad girls, well, they were known to break rules from time to time. Maybe the good girl had to promise not to tell what they got up to. Maybe the bad girl got to pinch, and smack, and bite. Maybe the good girl had to put her mouth to better use if she couldn’t say anything nice. Maybe the bad girl got to come.
The only rule the bad girl couldn’t break was about their jelly bracelets. They both wore them, and just like in schoolyard stories, the bracelets got broken when they did specific things. The good girl inevitably ran out by the end of t-shirt day. They only got more when he came home again, his briefcase full of presents, so he’d know by the colors on their wrists exactly what they’d done after all. But maybe if this time they were VERY good, or VERY bad, they could make him come home early.
Mornings at the Institute. Dr. Kelling poured hot water over the Chemex, waiting for the bloom to rise, while Dr. Jackson rolled her eyes at him and sipped the double shot she’d picked up at Starbucks on the way in. “All right, weekly assessments,” she said, tapping a few keys and bringing up a six-camera multiview on the screens above them. “Let’s do the ones in fully automated treatment first. Case file… uh, 877? Hannah.”
Kelling swiped idly down his tablet, scanning the highlights of her case. “Right. Twenty-one, admitted back in January, initial response meters 2/7/6, A-cup. Under personal treatment for a month after intake, transitioned to partially automated care in February, encouraging results…” He squinted up at the screens. “She’s in a modified Jelenko rig, right?”
“Shows a surprising amount of tolerance for it, actually,” mused Jackson. “It reconfigures her stress position every few hours, but she’s been able to take sustained penetration and nipple stim at intensity level 7 for most of the day, most days.”
“Orgasm?”
“One permitted every ten days, if she shows progress… huh, she’s a little overdue, actually.” Jackson leaned forward to a microphone and activated the remote address system. “The subject will identify herself.”
“S-subject 877!” Hannah just managed to choke out, whimpering as the machine continued to pound her cunt. “This subject is happy to be used as a wet hole! This subject is–nnngAAHH!” She arched and jerked as the nipple stimulators engaged their electrical mode. “Th-this subject is eager to comply with treatment! This subject is sorry for her l-loss of composuOH GOD!”
“What is the subject’s chief concern?”
“Service! Oh fuck, PLEASE allow this subject to be of service!”
Kelling made a wry face and leaned into the mic as well. “Is the subject just saying that because her needy cunt wants to come?”
“N-no! I mean–th-the subject means YES, doctor, her needy cunt wants to come, but NO doctor, she is telling the tru–”
Jackson cut the sound. “Eh, I don’t think she wants it bad enough. Let’s check in again next week. Maybe get somebody in to make sure the Jelenko is equipped to do DP as well.” She watched the screen a little longer, as Hannah babbled on in silence and Kelling tapped out some notes. “What was she originally admitted for, anyway?”
“Hmmm. Looks like… occasional attitude problems and possible attention deficit.”
Jackson let a little smile cross her face. “Well. I’d say she’s getting better all the time.”
You don’t actually have to communicate voluntarily in any way for this assessment. In fact, your statements would be more likely to hinder the process. The goal is to derive directly from your bodily response the levels of stimulus at which you feel pleasure, at which pleasure starts to transition to pain, at which you achieve edge, and at which you are driven to orgasm regardless of preference. Even if you were able to do more than gasp and squeal, we trust the level of muscle tension and blood flow in your pussy more than your mouth.
That’s what the contact patches on your lower abdomen are for, you see: assessment of the tiniest change in reaction as our tech works you over. We can chart your growing arousal as we apply pressure and vibration, heat, cold, and pain. We can watch it spike when we control your breathing. We can see what it does to you when we chuckle at your helpless squirming, and which of our selection of degrading terms for you produce the strongest effect.
You’ll be glad to have completed the examination when it’s over, no matter how you may struggle while it’s in process. Trust us. With the plans we have for your next phase of treatment, knowing where to start stretching your limits will be helpful for all involved.
A genuine fact about me: my hearing is unusually acute, and has remained so into my thirties, when most men start losing the ability to hear higher frequencies. I can hear a phone chime with a new text two floors away; I can pick you out of a crowd by the sound of your keyring when you put your hand in your purse.
That’s why I gave you this assignment. Yes, you spent long enough pleading with me for an orgasm that I decided to grant you one, on the condition that you get yourself off between seven and seven-fifteen this evening. Yes, that is in fact when my guests will be arriving for dinner. Yes, the four of us will be right in the next room.
I wouldn’t want your needy pussy to disturb anyone while we have company, and I think you know what will happen to you later if any of them notices or casts a suspicious glance at the bedroom door. You know the rules now. This is the only chance to come you’ll get this week, and possibly this month. But rest assured, girl, when I say not to make a single sound,
I
fucking
mean it.
After shipping, it’s typically recommended that you cut away the straps.
But who are we to rush you?
“I know it’s been a little while,” he said, chuckling as he patted her flank. “But I’ve been busy, and your warranty doesn’t start until I take you out of the packaging, you know. There’s no point running it out before I have time to take you for a proper test drive, now is there?”
Elise could do little but glare up at him. The straps still kept her perfectly immobile, and the matching ring gag held her mouth open in a perfect O, “TRY ME!” still emblazoned on the tag next to her cheek.
“Now, I did finally have a chance to sit down with the manual,” he said, as if this were reassuring. “I just skimmed it, really, but one thing stuck out to me. It says you actually can’t enter ‘full functionality’ mode until you’re unstrapped. That is, you can react and feel and lubricate, but try as hard as I might, I can’t make you come. Did you realize that?”
She stared, open-mouthed, as if she had a choice. Surely he wasn’t–he couldn’t. No.
“I thought I’d just give that limit a spot check,” he grinned, lifting her out of the box and up onto some kind of work table. Beside it was a pegboard, hung with tools–probes, clamps, voltmeters and a heavy, well-used Hitachi. He picked up the last and tested it against the palm of his hand; it buzzed like the world’s biggest, angriest bee.
“The other thing I read,” he said, setting it down next to her face where she had to stare at it in fearful anticipation, “was that you have some diagnostics enabled. Voltage output indicators, for instance. Here and here.” The red and black alligator clamps snapped onto her nipples before she could move, but she arched and squirmed and tried to shake them off anyway.
“See?” he took her face in one hand, pressing it tightly and twisting her head to look at the needle bobbing at the left side of the meter. “But then when we apply stimulation…” He flicked the Hitachi back on and started to work it down between her tightly bound legs.
The vibration was incredibly strong–strong enough that it didn’t have to be anywhere near her clit to start sending pulsing waves of irresistible pleasure through her. Elise thrashed some more, but she wasn’t going anywhere, and the tool was wedged tightly against her. The needle rose, and rose, and rose… and stopped, hovering close to the right side but not going any farther.
“They weren’t kidding,” he grinned, delighted. “You absolutely do have a built-in lock. And I can keep you pushed right up against it for as long as I leave this thing turned on.” He turned to get out a roll of black electrical tape and began winding it around her to keep the Hitachi in place. “Oh yes, little toy, I think we’re going to have quite a few tests to do before we decide to ruin your collector’s value.”
Whimpering, throbbing and already beginning to grow frantic with frustrated need, Elise started to wonder if her warranty would cover a broken brain.
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.
“And all the girls in this dorm have had a standard dose?”
“An average of 10 ppm in the drinking water, yes. It took eight days to build up to steady-state accumulation. There is some natural resistance–about three of them haven’t displayed any effects at all.”
“Three out of two hundred. Not bad.”
“We’ve sequestered them for further study. The rest of the subjects have… well, as you see, largely sequestered themselves.”
“Physical condition?”
“The fugue state only lasts about four hours at a stretch, so they seem to be able to take care of themselves. Eating, drinking, sleeping, all sufficient if a bit groggy. Then we play the trigger frequency and… this… begins again.”
“She’s really incapable of stopping, isn’t she?”
“And rather frustrated, from the evidence. We plan to verify when we can, but if they are capable of orgasm, it certainly doesn’t seem to satisfy them.”
“Have you seen any effects of… how do I put this… physical restraint?”
“Tie her hands, she’ll hump anything within reach, animate or otherwise. Bind her completely and… well… we think the effects are harmless, but I’ve never seen anyone quite so desperate. I think she would have agreed to just about anything to be touched.”
“Hmm.”
“Yes.”
“We may have to add a new protocol to the test. See what their behavior is like if they’re all, say, frogtied, and locked in a room together.”
“Noted. And do you still want to reserve the most promising two or three subjects for your personal tests at the lab?”
“Do you really have to ask?”
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 correction case file #34: █li███. Subject admitted und██ ████ █y for kn███ █████ █████y. █████ to Dr. ██████ █or ba████.
███████ ██ to previ███ █wn██, but init████ ██sts produc██ █████ ████ss. Instead, Divi████ █ ███ds decid██ to engage in an exp██████ ██ur██, det████ed ███lo██
█████ is consi████d a distinct requirem███, in addit██n to ██urly stimul██ ██ ████oris, “g-█████ █nd nipples; ana█ ███████ ██ ████mended. Should subject reach a ██████, discou████ ████ ███ █ENS unit. Also consider appl███g su██ ████████ if subject brin██ ██ "re█████," ███ghts” or “██████.” Verbaliza███n of any kin██, ██ ████ ██ █o be puni█████
Under NO circum███nc██ is the subj███ to be ███mitted orgasm. ███itor vita███ at al█ ██mes and be sure ██ forc█ ██ █east 24 edg██ ███ day, ██ting that su███ct respo██s to tradi██████ █████chistic implem███s as well as forc██ ███asure.
NOTE: Drs ██████ and ████████ are known to ha██ ███sonal histo██ with th██ ████ct and sh████ recuse them██████ fro█ any con█████████ ██ ███ █████ment plan. The Ins██████ is a place of ████y and tr███████, not cru███ or ███geance.
████mended durati██ ██ ██████ is fo██ █o six ██████. Any l████r and we will lik███ see per███████ ████ges to subje███ █████ ███ █████ █ell-be███.
(Ah fuck, another one of these? We have GOT to improve our backup policy. Just… keep doing what we’re doing, I guess? Her current handler certainly seems to enjoy the work. –DT)
Behavior correction case file #413: Katrin. Subject is a part-time lifeguard during summers between college terms and has been repeatedly caught by pool owner engaging in surreptitious masturbation, high-risk sexual activity and other inappropriate behavior on the grounds. Rather than risk a mark on her employment record and possible misdemeanor charges, subject agreed to behavioral therapy at the Institute.
Katrin is a less complicated case than subject #328 and will likely respond to straightforward aversion therapy. She is required to wear a swimsuit similar to her lifeguard uniform at all times, though this one is fitted with microscopic body monitors and electrical stim units to aid in analysis and reinforce direction of guidance.
As per standard Institute policy, subject will be shackled to bed when not in treatment and woken each morning by an orderly who will provide manual stimulus until her monitors indicate sufficient arousal. She will then be taken to our own swimming pool and, while in an environment similar to the one that has caused her such problems, be treated with Hitachi therapy as per standard orgasm control/induction regimen B. (You know how this goes–make her beg to come then make her beg to stop–pretty straightforward. DT) The obvious potential for breathplay and cold-water shock should be explored as well.
A week of such treatment should be more than sufficient to reform the subject. However, subject has already agreed to spend two months at the Institute voluntarily. Division D has expressed interest in continuing treatment and observing subject’s behavior on a daily basis. What are her reactions to an extended forced pleasure regimen? Will temporary aversion become a more permanent fetish related to the environment, clothing, or bondage in use, and will this fetish affect normal sexual function? Will the subject bond with a single handler or grow accustomed to rotation through a group of staff? The Institute stands to learn a great deal from this case.
Behavior correction case file #328: Maura. Subject masturbates compulsively, to the point of interference with social life and career, seclusion, and possibly self-harm. Subject known to spend multiple hours per day on Tumblr.
Maura has already undergone one round of treatment for her disorder at a similar facility, but the results of attempts at aversion therapy were impermanent, and she was referred to the Institute as a special case. The course of treatment proposed relies on overcompulsion instead.
Subject will be fitted with a small pacemaker-like contact implant at the base of the spine, supplying a regular electrical stimulus to the nerve but interfering with normal signals from the pelvis. Past experiments indicate that this will both keep the subject physically aroused–almost unbearably so–and inorgasmic. No amount of pleasure, physical or otherwise, will allow her to climax.
Subject will stay in an apartment on the Institute grounds similar to her own home, permitted toys but not clothing, and will have pornography from her own browser history selected and played on screens in each room. She will be monitored in this environment until she reaches a point of desperation considered dangerous for her own safety (estimated time: 36 hours).
She will then be informed that, if she chooses, she may enter an adjacent closet-sized chamber, crouch, lock her hands and ankles into a stockade, and present her orifices for use. Doing so will deactivate the implant. Subject will then be available for use by any staff member, visiting colleague, or other patients with grounds privileges. The rate of such engagement will obviously be variable and random. After sufficient begging, polite thanks to her partners, and 10-12 orgasms, the stockade will unlock and the implant will reactivate. The chamber will not reopen until subject once again reaches a level of extreme desperation.
NOTE: it is possible this course of therapy will require several months to take effect. All staff in Division E are encouraged to make use of the subject during her availability periods and discuss her progress at weekly check-in.
I blush just thinking about this. It’s the examining that gets to me, I think. The closeness, the intimacy, the inspection – the fact that this is a man merely looking at what he owns and doing with it as he sees fit. The fact that I damn well better sit still no matter what his fingertips do because he expects me to be good and let him explore.
So. Mean.
Every inch of you, smooth as velvet, groomed just as he instructed. Your pose picture perfect, legs apart for him, wrists crossed behind your head, eyes fixed on the ceiling. The slow, calm, methodical humiliation of your naked vulva.
He’s had to wipe you down several times, using the wadded wreck of your own panties to sop up your wetness as the heavy clamp stand keeps the Hitachi in place against you. There’s a dimmer switch on it, of course–you can’t decide whether that’s for kindness or cruelty–which he adjusts occasionally, always a microsecond before you think you’re about to go over the edge. Or lose it.
He likes to keep you here, almost delirious with need, where he can watch you pulse and throb under the gentle brush of his probing finger. It’s almost dissociative. It reminds you that the cunt in question just happens to be attached to you: his property in your helpless, trembling body, to be tested and explored at his leisure. To be subject to pleasure or punishment in precise increments. To come, or not to come, only when he decides as much.
Of course, realistically, you know this is the easy part. Eventually he’s going to get bored and spin that dimmer all the way up. He’s going to paddle that pussy with his hand until it splashes, as is his usual manner. And he’s going to wait for you to start begging, between squeals and gasps, for your orgasm.
Then he’s going to turn on the camera and make you repeat yourself.
You think you’re blushing now?
It started as a harmless game, when they were girls: bet I can hold an ice cube longer than you. Bet you you’re more ticklish. Bet you I give a better back rub. Bet I’m a better kisser.
As they got older, it became a more serious rivalry–and more focused on their growing awareness of their bodies. Bet you I can win at strip poker. Bet I can pin you down. Bet you can’t keep quiet. Bet I can make you wet.
They only see each other over the summer and on breaks, now, but she braces herself every time, a mixture of pride, fear and burning anticipation. She’s not going to lose this year. There are more consequences at stake than just a momentary triumph. Whoever loses the stakes loses the day: she’ll have to do whatever her best friend says, anything her best friend says, until the next morning.
It’s how she lost her last two boyfriends. It’s how she got that belly button ring. It’s how she got that speeding ticket, and those rope burns, and that constant nagging need.
They don’t have to say the wager aloud anymore. It’s always the same. One of them stares at the other across the room, cold challenge in her flushed face, and starts to undress. The other hastens to catch up. They slide onto the bed, bodies just barely touching, not showing a sign of weakness even though they tremble every time.
Bet you come first.
It’s hard to want to win.