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doctortease:

The Exam, Part Three

The study lasted—well, they later told her it was six weeks. She’d lost count by day four.

She returned to the doctor’s office each morning, and since Daddy had to leave early for work, most days she got belted into the back seat in her slippers and nightie and sleepy fuzzy hair. She always got put in a gown (and usually taken out of it) as soon as she arrived anyway. And it didn’t matter if she’d just had a bath or not; they always stripped her down and scrubbed her clean before they started.

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Oh. My god.

Just read this walking home from a party.

Words can’t even…

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doctortease:

The Exam, Part One

She squirmed a little on the crinkly paper of the table. “Daddy,” she said in her smallest voice, “I’m scared.”

“Nothing to be nervous about, sweetheart,” Daddy said, stroking her hair and adjusting her headband. “I’ll be right here the whole time. And we’re only here to do what’s best for you.”

“That’s right,” said the doctor, closing the door behind him and flipping through her chart. “I’m sure this is all going to be quite routine, young miss. We’ll get you taken care of in no time, and then your daddy can take you out for a treat. Won’t that be nice?”

She bit her lip and nodded.

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So doctortease is an amazing writer but also like a total meanie.

So, I don’t know. If you wanna go support a meanie, go read this story because maybe I touched myself to it and then noticed the tag at the bottom and was like “you fucker” whatever maybe not who cares.

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Somebody’s been liking a whole lot of my posts lately without contributing anything new or exciting on his tumblr.

I’m the one who should be writing you the prescription, at this rate.

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Fear turns me on to an absurd degree.

That being said, nobody better try to amputate me. Just…no. I’m not even into blood.

Just wave the crap around a little and let me feel it on my skin and we’re good. 

boston-jason:

You were expecting… what exactly?

Dildos and floggers? Feathers and fur? Hitachi and princess plug?

You said you were tired of the tropes and in desperate need of adrenaline-amplified authenticity.

You said you wanted to hear my voice again, to see the darkness lift my hands again, to feel the ice in my eyes again.

It didn’t take much persuasion to interest me in a bit of existential fear and groveling tears.

Deep breaths, pumpkin, this is not a mindfuck.

It’s playtime.

—boston-jason / in_extremis

cartoon-motion-life:

1900 surgical amputation tool set

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doctortease:

Behavior correction case file #440 UPDATE: Ivy. While the subject has shown marked improvement under treatment so far, recent indications are that progress has plateaued. It may simply be that we have reached the limitations of what can be achieved by coaxing and instructing, and need to move on to working directly with the subconscious.

Simply put, Ivy will be put on overload. Each week, her chart will be updated with a randomized stim schedule, with staggered rest periods at irregular intervals to disorient her and induce repeated fugue states. She will spend the majority of shifts in some form of sensory deprivation combined with vibration, penetration, focused impact, and utilitarian bondage or encasement. She will never know exactly who is using her body, how long a session will last, or whether she will be permitted (or punished for) orgasm. Any information she gleans about her current circumstances will be drip-fed and incomplete. Monitor pulse levels, and feel free to switch things up to keep them high.

Between these sessions, Ivy will be folded into a small case and transported to the recovery chamber on level 4. She will spend recovery time unbound but collared, and dressed in minimal decorative garments, which are to be referred to as “pretties.” She will see a small, consistent set of supervisors during these periods, who have already been briefed on treating her gently but addressing her in diminutive and reductive terms. Soothing, petting, and cuddling are encouraged. Subject is to feel as if she is receiving special treatment (which is in fact true), but also in firm and careful hands.

Until, upon waking, she finds herself at full use again.

The overarching goal in this case is to simulate a fractured reality. The subject should come to believe that her stim sessions are a dream when she is in recovery, and that her recovery is a dream when she is under stim. The alternating stresses of this contradiction should provide opportunity to examine and manipulate her psyche to an otherwise unattainable degree.

The closest we have come to using this form of therapy in the past has been as a punitive measure against hostile actors bent on harming the Institute. The intent for those subjects was to break them. With Ivy, however, it must be clear that our intent is pure and therapeutic. We do not expect her to break; we expect her to blossom.

Be careful what you wish for.

Disclaimer: I gave him permission to write this post and to use my photos. Please don’t reblog me and leave gross commentary like “hot teen ass” (though I’m kind of flattered, as I’m not a teen anymore.)

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My Daddy sent me this to post.

Because clearly Daddy’s an instigator

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Do you think if I leave a little, umm…trail of breadcrumbs…doctortease will start posting again?

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This reminds me of someone who can probably come up with a significantly better caption for this than I.

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“Just hang tight. We’ll make you all better soon, baby.”

bdbourbon:

Oh, I really like that belt across her throat…

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Blarggg why are straitjackets so expensive?

I need one for reasons.

sereneisley:

playful BTS pic taken after the video that just went up at www.c4s.com/33288 #straitjacket #pantyhose