Mistress ordered me to make the dungeon soundproof. I didn’t like the sound of that, but Mistress was already soundproof to everything I had to say, so I kept my mouth shut and went to work. It took me a couple of backbreaking weeks, but Mistress was mighty pleased with the result and She immediately invited some friends to come and see. Sadistic Friends, I’m-ready-to-shit-my-pants kinda Friends. Question was: was the dungeon really soundproof? Mistress, being the clever dick She is, decided to put it to the test. So one slave went to the kitchen and a second one into the garden where they had to listen if they could hear anything. Bizarre really, because Mistress is always complaining that slaves don’t listen. Anyway, now all eyes & hands turned to me and I was stripped, strapped and covered with electrodes. And then the horror began. My word, the pain was absolutely unbearable and I screamed on top of my lungs. That pleased the Ladies tremendously and they pumped up the voltage. The dungeon turned out to be soundproof and my dick lightproof. Because it glowed like a red-hot poker for weeks.
I was over the moon, because She wanted me to play the victim in one of Her films. I’d met Her only twice (for a session and at a party), so it was a big thing for me. The plane touched down on a Saturday morning and She took me to a small dungeon, where a visagist, a cameraman and a photographer were already waiting for us. It all went well at first, with some whipping, CBT and stuff. Quite similar to the one and only session I had in my life. The afternoon was a different cup of tea though, as She started caning the crap out of me. It was the grand finally of the movie, the Big Bang of misery. Man, did I suffer! As if my novice ass got stuck in a shredder or something. I literally danced in agony. My butt was still on fire when I boarded the plane the next day. There was a human elephant sitting next to me, so I had to squeeze myself in, with no room at all to lift my sore bottom. A high altitude nightmare. Didn’t get an Oscar, didn’t get a Razzie; but my word, what an unforgettable experience.
Whipping, caning, paddling, slapping and even a karate kick between your legs; it’s all child’s pay compared to urethral sounds (aka sounds or sounding), as far as I’m concerned. And if you don’t know what we mean by that: jamming a piece of metal in your dick. Scary isn’t it? Look at the gallery below, it’s a freaking horror cabinet. Well, they don’t use an iron bar or something like that, these terrifying instruments are made of polished steel. As if that makes it any better! Survivors will tell you it’s not too painful and they’ll even tell you it stimulates the prostate in an unforgettable way. Well, I’m sure is unforgettable, but not because it’s cuddling the prostate. I admit, I’m quite a coward when it comes down to pile-driving a poor man’s dick. When urethral sounds are on the table, all living creatures within a 25 miles radius hear will hear my sounds of agony.