Author's note:
This takes place the day after Part 41
--------------------------------
XLII
Day 04
I don’t know if I have slept. I hurt all over, inside and out.
Pain is the only reminder that I even exist. Empty. Alone. I retreat to nothingness to prevent my heart
from unraveling. The darkness seems
fitting. I have no thoughts except for
the audio loop playing back into my ears.
An image of Mistress’s smiling face flashes in my head. I respond with tears and longing.
Breakfast arrives but I do not eat. At headcount I do not move, they drag me out
of my cage and force me to my feet. I
slump limp in their arms. A series of
hard smacks to my buttocks and a series of threats get me to stand on my own
power. I don’t care; I just want to
fade away.
Today I begin stage 2 of rehabilitation. They lead me by the transport collar to the
interview room. Dominique’s pillory
sits in the middle of the room. I learn
that I still have feelings and they managed to sink even lower. My wrists, neck, and ankles get locked into
place. I face the far wall.
The door closes and I hear footsteps approach. The scent of perfume tells me it is
Lauren. My body stiffens and I shut my
eyes tight. The ache in my heart pulls
to the surface. The building anxiety
makes my body shake. I open my eyes as
she unlocks and removes my gag. Her
masked face sits directly in front of mine; I feel her inspecting me. My nostrils flare as my breaths heave
through my nose.
“I still see some signs of life in those eyes. We haven’t totally broken you… yet.”
I cringe and whimper as a rush of agony penetrates my
brain. No one will save me. I am alone.
She makes her way behind me and yanks down my tights. To my surprise I feel her turn the key to my
chastity belt. The front plate slides
off freeing my sex from its metal prison.
It twitches in its newfound freedom.
“Wow, I can see why she keeps that thing locked up. I don’t consider myself a size Queen or
anything, but a woman should have standards.”
My face flushes red as a wave of shame hits me. I feel my penis come to life under the sting
of humiliation. My brain naturally
resists for a moment, excuses spin through my head. It’s cold. It’s always
shriveled up like that after being locked up for so long. This is an embarrassment I am not accustomed
to. It dawns on me that her triggering
my self-consciousness restored my sense of self. I can no longer hide in nothingness.
The audio loop in my headset stops abruptly. I feel Lauren’s hands lift the back of the
uniform’s dress and tuck it into my belt leaving my rear fully exposed.
“Inmate, upon completing stage 1 of your rehabilitation, you
have earned the privilege of entering stage 2.
In this stage we will train your body and mind to react appropriately so
that you can become a productive member of society.”
She dims the lights and I hear the hum of the projector as
it powers up. An image appears on the
wall.
“Inmate, describe what you see.”
“A man and a woman.”
Smack. The strap
bites against my skin. I wince on
impact.
“Be more specific.”
“A man holding a woman down.”
Smack. I let out a
small grunt.
“What else?”
“He’s hurting her.”
Smack.
“Tell me more.”
“He’s over-powering her.”
Smack.
“Why?”
“He wants to have sex with her.”
Smack.
“Does she want this?”
“No.”
Smack.
“What will he do to her?”
“He’s going to rape her.”
Smack.
Lauren pauses and forces her hand between my legs. I feel a sharp pinch on my penis. I shriek in pain as the clip crushes and
crimps the skin. Tears fill my
eyes. My body shakes against the wooden
frame. The pain throbs and spikes,
clouding my brain.
“Do you like this image?”
“No!”
Smack.
“Why don’t you like it?”
“A man shouldn’t hurt a woman!”
Smack.
She pauses again and attaches a second clip. I throw my head back and wail as tears soak
my mask.
“Is this good or bad?”
“It’s bad!”
Smack.
“Why is it bad?”
“A man shouldn’t hurt a woman!”
Smack.
Another clip keeps me bawling as I thrash against the
restraints.
“Tell me again.”
“A man shouldn’t hurt a woman!”
Smack.
“Do you want this to stop?”
“Yes, please stop it!”
Smack.
“If you even think about hurting another woman this is what
awaits you.”
Smack. I cry out and
shake. Smack. Smack. Smack. I sob and bawl. Smack.
The blows finally stop.
My body quivers and twitches from the pain of the clips. She releases them one by one. I cry out again and fall limp, held up by
the stocks.
“You’re lucky, inmate.
These were supposed to be electric shocks delivered to your penis and
scrotum. We ended up going with
something a little more primitive.”
My chest heaves as I catch my breath. I’m given several minutes to rest.
The image on the wall changes.
“Inmate, tell me what you see?”
“A man kneeling and bowing before a woman.”
“What is he doing?”
“He’s worshipping her.”
I feel one of her hands caress the bare skin on my rear as
it still throbs from the strap’s blows.
Her other hand lightly massages my tender cock. It flicks to life under her touch and rises
as she takes it in her hand.
“Why is he worshipping her?”
“Because he loves her, he adores her.”
Her hands continue moving, they are gentle and they feel
good.
“What does he want?”
“He wants to make her happy. He wants to love her.”
“Does he deserve her?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because he is inferior.”
She continues to massage my tender parts. I moan as she moves farther up my penis. I will dribble soon.
“So the inferior man should worship and love the woman?”
“Yes.”
I gyrate my hips as she continues to stroke it. My head spins with arousal. Her hands abruptly stop. I let out a whimper and try to hump the
air. A quick slap to my cock makes me
squeal and it falls limp in its response.
The sting stops my desperation in its tracks.
A new image flashes on the wall.
“Inmate, tell me what you see?”
“A man scaring a woman.”
Smack.
“What else?”
“He’s threatening her… she’s terrified.”
Smack.
She reaches between my legs and attaches a clip at the base
of the head. I shriek and flail against
the restraints. Smack.
“Do you like this image?”
“No!”
Smack. She adds a
clip to my scrotum. I howl in
pain.
“Why don’t you like it?”
“A man shouldn’t threaten a woman!”
Smack. Another clip
bites into the tender skin on my scrotum.
My scream is long and horrific. Tears flow freely from my red eyes.
“Is this good or bad?”
“Bad!”
Smack.
“Why is it bad?”
“A man shouldn’t hurt or scare a woman!”
Smack, Smack, Smack, Smack, Smack.
I recoil under every blow, my brain spikes with pain that
leaves me dizzy. I gasp for air. Sweat beads on my skin.
“If men didn’t hurt women, you wouldn’t be suffering like
this, inmate.”
I thrash in pain, struggling anywhere I can move. Lauren slowly removes the clips while I sob
o myself.
A new image appears.
“Inmate, describe what you see.”
“A woman sitting on a man’s face.”
She gently rubs my swollen buttocks, soothing its tender
skin. She teases my cock and it springs
to attention.
“What is he doing?”
“He’s pleasuring her, submitting to her will.”
Her hand grips my cock and begins to stroke. I let out a low moan even though I still
haven’t recovered from the pain.
“What does he want?”
“He wants her to orgasm.
He wants her to experience pleasure and joy. He loves her.”
Her hand moves faster as I pump it into her hand with as
much strength as I can muster.
“When a man submits, he gets rewarded, inmate.”
I pound and pound as the stimulation builds. She tightens her grip and I moan.
“When a man submits he gets rewarded.”
I feel my muscles tighten.
My mouth opens as my lungs heave for air. Her hand stops. I feel it
dribble. She slaps my cock hard and it
drops limp between my legs.
After 4 images Lauren gives me a break while she departs
without a word. It is painfully
obvious what is going on; the goal is to create associations. I just want this to stop. I want to go home. I want to be with Mistress.
Tabitha replaces Lauren in the conditioning process. She
continues the cycle of alternating pain and pleasure.
The torture continues with another “pain” image; another
woman being terrorized by a man.
Tabitha drives this lesson home with more strokes of the strap and adds
a fourth clip to the others on my penis and scrotum. She guides me to describe to her what is wrong with the
picture. I scream, wail, and cry in
agony. I am helpless; no one will save
me.
What follows is another “pleasure” image displaying a man
submitting to a woman or being helpless before her. While I describe what is right with the picture Tabitha performs
gentle aftercare and strokes my penis.
My body and brain run wild with confusion. The back and forth extremes slowly wear me down.
By the time she concludes the 4th and final image
I am a quivering mess dangling from my bonds.
Mistress, where are you? Please
take me away.
That's a strange sort of conditioning exercise, fur. Since fiction fur already gets pleasure from subjugating himself to the needs and/or desires of females, it's hard to see the point of the "pleasure" part of the process. As for the "pain" part, did fiction fur ever actually have any desire to abuse females in the first place? I'm afraid I'm not getting this one, unless it's just to point out the unremitting and somewhat senseless level of cruelty of the "girls". Feel free to enlighten me:)
ReplyDeleteThank you, Lady Grey.
DeleteThis was all part of the 3 stage rehabilitation process of their graduate thesis project. Stage 1. Break them. Stage 2. Condition them. Stage 3. Train them. Just because fs doesn't need it doesn't stop them from doing it :)
I hope that makes more sense.
Classic conditioning training....well done, furcissy. Poor fs...he's never actually hurt a woman (that we know of) and he already worships and loves them. He doesn't deserve this!!!
ReplyDeleteThe conditioning was a bit unnecessary for fs, I had to include it as part of their rehabilitation plan though :)
DeleteTake care.