self-bondage – Not A Real Doctor

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.

You’d be surprised how easy it is to find an unused storage room down in the subbasement of the theater and communications building, and even more surprised how easy it is to fill it with scavenged materials. A bench. a clip-on scoop light. A rolling cart. A wheeled frame. Padlocks. Chains.

Of course, Kelly couldn’t borrow everything–some of it she had to order through the departmental Amazon account, furtively tapped out during her work-study shift and snagged from the office before anyone could open the boxes. Cuffs. Lube. That ridiculous dildo.

Not that any of the equipment ever got much use. She just snuck in there to stare, fantasize, shove a hand down her shorts, and have massive, fist-biting orgasms.

It was hers and only hers, and as the semester went on she grew more and more daring. She started spending the night there, just smirking when her roommate asked curiously who she was hooking up with. She played with cuffs, tightening them around one ankle, then both. She challenged herself to see how fast she could wriggle out of her own ropes.

It was addictive, but, Kelly told herself, it was harmless. None of the stuff was actually stolen–it hadn’t even left the building. And she wasn’t one of those sick sadists who actually hurt people for pleasure. She was just having a little fun.

She discovered that if she locked her wrists AND her ankles, she could come just by squeezing her thighs.

It was in just such a situation that she found herself, late one Friday night after all her classmates had drunk themselves into stupor. She liked to hide the key in the laces of her shoe, so it couldn’t possibly get lost, but she really had to work to get it up in range of her–fuck. Was that the door handle rattling?

No. No no no no no–