“You do understand what we’re doing here, don’t you, Stacy?” he said, cupping her breast in one hand as her body shook slightly from the motor working away behind her. “I mean–breaking you, certainly, that much is obvious. Breaking you systematically, down into a collection of screaming nerve bundles and drooling holes. But beyond that?”

Stacy lolled her head back and tried to focus her eyes on him, panting through the ring. The double pump shifted its angle slightly, and a little whine escaped her throat, her aching back stiffening a little as the rods found a new place they hadn’t pummeled as thoroughly yet.

“We’re making you a part of something more.” He laced his fingers through her cotton-candy-fine hair and helped her meet his gaze, grip tight and sure. “We’re making your body understand that it’s a machine too. An uncomplicated machine, beautiful in its elegant simplicity. A machine that serves.”

A few days ago she would have glared at him; a week ago she would have fought like a wild animal. Now, after enough time trapped, helpless, fucked and used by the tireless device, she could barely manage to keep herself from sobbing–for mercy or for more, she wasn’t sure anymore.

“Machines have controls, Stacy.” He released her breast, just long enough to slap it sharply with one hand, then again, then again. She jerked reflexively with each blow, but in truth she could barely distinguish pleasure from pain, and he knew it. “Machines can be turned on. Or turned off.” His hand found her throat and squeezed just a little. “Machines do what they’re built to do. And we will build you back up again… starting very soon.”

He let go of her throat, and she sagged, shuddering. He toyed with her hair again, undoing the snaps on his fly and freeing his cock. “Would you like me to show you what the next piece of your construction is, what’s-left-of-Stacy?”

As he began to fuck her open mouth, all she could think through her own moaning was that she finally felt complete.


Okay, as a more serious answer to yesterday’s ask, and also because I’ve had a sudden (very welcome!) spike in followers and should probably reintroduce myself.

I’m a white cis man in my 30s with a collection of kinks you can probably divine pretty easily. This blog is a mix of wry captions and short-form fiction; I also have a Literotica account with longer stories. There are a few posts here tagged “personal,” “intro” or “politics” which are not fiction, which I hope is obvious. It’s safe to assume everything else is invented, especially if it’s tagged “erotica.”

As an extension of that: I believe strongly that everyone’s body is their own, that we must learn and teach a culture of consent, and that intersectional feminism is something I’ll be learning about and working toward my whole life. I write about BDSM and nonconsent because it gets me off, and if you’re reading this it probably gets you off too. That’s okay. All of the above can be true. We contain multitudes.

I am not currently looking for play partners, long-distance or otherwise. I am always looking for interesting and carefully curated new blogs to follow, but I don’t get to check in that often, so if you post in high volume I may not follow you even if I like you very much. Thanks for your attention, dear reader; even if I write in an arrogant persona, you humble me.


My single favorite attitude from a sub is this one: “yeah? Is that all you’ve got?”


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.


It took me a few watch-throughs to notice the black veil on her face. We all grieve in our own ways!


Don’t forget: nine edges as soon as you get in the door. This is a serious training program; I’ll be checking you later to see if you’re still wet and tender. And since you got caught playing without permission last Friday, this week you’ll have to do them without your hands…


They’d caught her probably six or seven hours ago, though this windowless room made it hard to keep track. Jane had tried everything she could to play innocent–she was just an innocent guest who got lost; okay, no, she’d been bribed to carry something but she had no idea what it was–but once they’d searched her (quite roughly) and found the little microdrive, there was no question of escape.

In a last-ditch attempt, she’d made an attempt to seduce the man who caught her, whispering in his ear and grinding herself against his rough hand. He’d just laughed and spun her around, locking her wrists behind her back as he pushed her into the elevator and escorted her to the interrogation room. “Sweetheart,” he said, “by the time he’s done with you you’ll do a lot more than that.”

Then he’d walked in, and with a quiet, businesslike attitude, began to work her.

She had expected torture: electricity, waterboarding, stress positions, sleep deprivation. Jane had been trained to handle that, and while she was scared, she believed she could handle it until an extraction squad arrived to get her. She had not expected this.

He’d stripped her to the waist in total silence, then he’d yanked down her panties from under her skirt and forcibly began to manipulate her pussy. Over her inarticulate cries of protest, he’d controlled her like a simple machine, turning her frantic resistance into helpless squirming of another kind entirely. She didn’t want to like this, to take pleasure in her assault. But her body had other ideas.

He seemed to know everything about her cunt–when she wanted pressure, when she wanted penetration, how fast to grind against her and when exactly pain began to become something that wasn’t necessarily bad. She had stopped shouting, saving her breath for the struggle, but she was still surprised when a little moan slipped out of her mouth instead.

That was when the band of leather slipped around her throat.

He edged her. Jane would freeze, stiffen, arch and open her mouth, and he’d tighten his grip, restricting and then cutting off her breath as he slowed the hand using her clit until she felt she was tingling and aching and painfully close to coming–and then he’d stop and hold her there, struggling to breathe and not even realizing she was moving her hips against the empty air. He’d keep her there for two heartbeats, three, four, on the verge of a forced orgasm, before he released the strap and let her gasp in lungfuls of air. And as she collapsed forward, his hand would find her clit and start driving her up again.

This was the part where Jane started to lose track of time. She could have struggled to fight him off; soon she was only struggling to get more from his infernal hand. Everything he did made her want to lift herself against him and squeal with need. She could barely think. And that was before he yanked her back down and began to punish her breasts.

It hurt. Of course it hurt. It just hurt in a way that made her cunt clench and her back arch and her whole body flush with heat. Jane ground her dripping pussy against the chair and forgot her code name, her mission, her training, everything except her body and her need and the gasping breaths of air he allowed her.

Forgetting wouldn’t be all bad, she told herself as she edged again on the pain of his slap on her breast. After all, eventually he might start asking questions.


Do you know what he likes about you, little girl? Your soft places. The parts of your body that seem to be made for squeezing, gripping, slapping. Exposing. Hurting.

Sometimes that will be your cute little butt, up in the air, wiggling over his lap as he raises his hand and lets you anticipate the fall. Sometimes that will be your pretty pink mouth, his thumb rolling from your lower teeth to your lip as he holds you firmly by the chin to make sure you know you’re being used. And sometimes, he’s going to tie you up, pull your clothes just far enough out of the way, and lean down as he pulls your crotch rope up to make you curl like a roly-poly bug.

It’s convenient, you see. He can grip and squeeze and pinch your sweet breasts, and then he can reach down just a little bit and warm up your naughty little pussy, and then go back and start again. He can do it as many times as he wants. He can make you very very wet, and very very sore. He will. And then maybe he’ll see how you react when he puts himself inside you.

He gets so hard, you see, and it really is your fault–you make him that way. So he needs to take some softness from you.

I’m sure you don’t mind. After all, good little girls share, don’t they?


“Hey, do you hear that?”

“Shh for a second… huh, yeah, I do. Do you think it’s the fan, or–”

“Ah, crap. It’s coming from the closet.”

“We left it turned on all night again, didn’t we?”

“You’re cleaning it up this time.”


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.


Kittens just go limp when you grab them by the scruff, you know.


The nice thing about having more than one pet is that they can keep each other from getting bored during the day.


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)


When the Sirens get bored.


Sometimes, with a new victim, it’s just fun to leave her panties on.


Behavior control case file #214: Sam. Subject was recommended to the Institute by a number of former partners, as part of our new pilot program to identify undiagnosed problem patients at large in the community. Subject has reportedly been manipulative, dishonest and selfish to a pathological degree, particularly in her sexual dealings with others.

Sam needs to internalize the lesson that attempting to simply take what she wants will lead only to pushing it further away. The most obvious reward to be withheld is orgasm, of course; upon admission she is to be strapped down and stimulated to edge four times per hour by orderlies for forty-eight hours, at which point sleep deprivation and denial should make her more pliable. However, food, water, and pleasurable bathing rights (as opposed to the nightly hose-down) should also be used to demonstrate this principle.

Regular treatment will consist of a series of frustration bondage scenarios like the one depicted above. In addition to regular exposure bondage, subject’s hands will be wrapped in duct tape to reinforce the uselessness of manipulation. Electrostim pads will be applied to the inner thighs to keep muscles jerking and prevent the subject from sitting still; a powerful vibrator will be lowered to rest against the subject’s vulva, but any movement–such as the jerking produced by the stim pads–will cause the wand to bounce and swing away before gradually returning, then beginning the cycle again.

Orgasm under these circumstances is extremely unlikely, and Dr. Y has a hypothesis that the subject will remain at high edge in this manner for potentially weeks. Subject will be given opportunities to apologize, recant or beg only after at least ten days of treatment; until then she is to be tape-gagged, with a small cloth scented from her cunt and stuffed in her mouth, replaced at one-hour intervals.

When the tape-removal process reveals that the subject has become an incoherent, desperately begging mess, she will be permitted to request forgiveness from each of the former partners she treated poorly; only upon their unanimous consent will she be moved into recovery. Otherwise, return her to the treatment cycle, possibly with added nipple or anal stim.


“Seriously, if we keep getting distracted we’re NEVER going to be ready for nationals.”


Seeing the person using the tools on your body is a privilege, girl. And you haven’t earned it yet.


That’s not a gag. That is a very simple piece of duct tape, lightly pressed to her face, and by now even the slightest sheen of sweat has probably robbed it of any adhesive power it might have had. It’s not something she’s trying to get off. If anything, she’s probably struggling to keep it on.

Why? Because she’s fantasized about this, about herself and her little blonde roommate stripped and bound and helpless. Over and over again, quietly fucking herself, one hand working at her clit and one stuffed in her mouth to keep quiet: she built up a very detailed scenario in which they’d be attacked, used, forced to do all manner of sick things to their captors and each other. And she got off to it every night.

So the guys she hired off of Craigslist are better at rope than they are at tape. Whatever. It’s still got her heart beating triple-time and her mind racing, not to mention the waterfall between her legs. They’ll be back in a moment, carrying a black duffel bag, and all she has to do is keep the duct tape on long enough for one of them to stuff something else in her face.

The most interesting part, of course, is that they did the same halfhearted gag work on her roommate, who didn’t know about the setup, who must believe this is a real home invasion, who has no idea what’s coming next.

And she’s keeping hers on too.