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.
The leash makes me howl like a horny dog on a highway. To me it’s the pinnacle of Female Power and humiliation. But a Lady can leash your cock and balls as well, of course. And that’s a whole different ballgame altogether. Because that’s not just humiliating, it can be bloody painful as well. As long as you follow Her like a good boy, everything is fine. It seldom is, needless to say. So things can get rather nasty as soon as Mistress starts yanking your scrotum all over the place. Let alone if She’s in a ruthless, no-nonsence mood. Take picture no. 16 for example, that’s an absolute masterpiece. So simple and yet so devastatingly effective. It’s the genuine fear of losing your precious marbles that makes leashing your totem scrotum so lovely.
We stood outside the terminal. In less than two hours time I would be high above the clouds and on my way back home. I had such a wonderful time and my head was still spinning of happiness. So much so that I didn’t hear Her question. She grabbed me by the balls and squeezed them hard. That got my intention! Her grip tightened and She twisted my marbles with brutal force. I screamed like a castrate with a dildo op its ass and bounced up and down like a skippy-ball. Her face was close to mine and Her eyes and angry voice lashed out at me. She walked up and down in front of the terminal for quite some time and I bowlegged behind Her. It was – in every meaning of the word – a painful goodbye. During the flight the stewardess asked me if I wanted some freshly squeezed orange-juice. I shivered all over.
It’s not sure if Nostradamus used any methods for entering a trance state. Some say he attempted water gazing. That’s a weird hobby when you think about it and he must have been bored out of knickers to try something like that. Still, I drew some inspiration from it, so I’ve been staring at my dick for hours on end. It was quite miraculous really, because I saw glimpses of the Femdom Future. I saw a Slap & Breakfast for example, and a FemdoMotel. I even entered the luxurious Perils Palace Hotel, which had bed-of-nails, bondage beds and vacuum beds. It also had a Ballbusting Ballroom, a Facesitting Floor, a Humiliation Hall, a CBT Corridor, a Punishment Penthouse and even an Enema Elevator. Barred windows everywhere and the roomservice was…..well, rather harsh, I would say. Not to mention the wakeup call.
You’re free to dismiss these dick-visions as fantasies. But let’s not forget that 100 years ago the idea of gender equality was also considered to be a fantasy. And the very thought of putting a man on the moon and a bunch of landrovers on planet Mars was sciencefiction. Things change, and what’s unimaginable today, may well be the reality of tomorrow.