A full-blown erection woke him up. He immediately realised there was something terribly wrong. He found he was naked, strapped to a gynaecologist’s chair, half covered with a hospital blanket. He looked in the mirror opposite the bed, and he noticed he had full size breasts, like a woman’s. They had added nipple rings, which gave them an almost obscene look. Then he looked down at his crotch.

His throbbing dick was fully blown, but for a plastic loop that now had a permanent stranglehold on his penis. The wire bent away from his gland, looping between his balls and then back in again, behind the balls, into his body.

The testicles had been put to either side of his penis, appearing as grotesquely swollen lips, from which his tortured member protruded.

The pain was excruciating. His dick was expanding millimetre by millimetre over the cruel plastic, until, to his amazement, his gland met in a full loop the opening behind his scrotum. He felt every bloodswollen vessel inside his member throbbing with pain. He moaned. Then it came back to him. It was the only time they had drugged him. In a hazy dream he remembered being undressed, then led to the surgery inside the big house. They had spread-eagled him on the chair, shaven his crotch, disinfected him with betadine.

As he laid there on the table, Bertha had unfurled a chart of the male anatomy, and Amanda had pointed out the curved route of the urethra through the abdomen, from the bladder into the penis and out through the glans.

- We’re going to redefine your genitals and chastise you for good, Amanda explained.

- I don’t want a slave who plays with his willee all the time, and, besides, male sexuality is an affront to all women, so we’ll curb yours for good.

First, I am going to make an incision between your scrotum and anus, and locate your urethra, which I am then going to cut. I’ll give you a new peehole between your legs, so that you will have to urinate sitting, like a woman.

Then we’ll run a plastic loop through the remainder of your piss tube, right through your penis, and we’ll join the two ends between your legs.

When all the wounds have healed, which’ll take about four to five days, we’ll make an appointment with the piercing studio, and they’ll replace the plastic tube with a stainless steel one . Once that one is in place, you’ll have been chastised permanently, and you’ll curse every morning when you have an erection.

Each day your flesh will want to break loose from the steel curve inside your body, and each day you will realise that it can’t, as a symbol of your servitude to me.

And, while we’re at it, I’m going to inject silicone jelly into your breasts to make them into regular tits. Also, your ballsack will be reduced and split, so as to better be able to put clamps on those nuts of yours.

Amanda had lifted his balls and quite unceremoniously gave a small but deep incision in the scrotal sack. She then cut away the loose skin, suturing the bleeding ends anew , forcing the testicles to stay on either side of his penis. The she attacked his perineum. They had given him a sedative, but he could vaguely feel the cutting and he recalled how strangely calm he had been, almost like a man watching his own funeral.

They had put in a huge spreader clamp, Bertha busy sucking off the blood that was now gushing between his legs, Amanda cutting his urethra an rerouting it between his legs, sowing the tissue to his new hole. Immediately a catheter was put into place, then a white plastic loop was passed through his bleeding flesh into what was left of his urethra going out. The two women joined the plastic, then sewed up his wound and covered his groin in bandages.

Then he was given two horizontal cuts under his breasts; Amanda inserted the nozzle of what looked like a painter’s jelly gun and started pressing the handle. He felt a strange substance enter his chest, and to his amazement saw his breast swell up like a puffed up soufflé made of human skin.

- Wonderful baps, won’t you say?, Amanda laughed.

For the next couple days they kept him mildly sedated, redressing his bandages, sanitising the wound, Amanda pleased with the quick healing process his young body was going through. On the fifth day after they had cut him open, they removed the bandages for the last time, and Bertha pulled out the catheter.

Then he was allowed to look at his crotch in a small hand mirror they held between his legs. He was amazed. Between his legs there was a new peehole, neatly stitched to the surrounding skin, the stitches already working their way out. Further on, another hole and the white plastic of the loop going in, then curving out of the head of his flaccid penis and joining the other end.

They undid the shackles that had tied him to the bed for five days, then they helped him get up and get off the bed. He felt stiff and cold, and he realised he had to pee. He blushed, and Amanda smiled as if she knew.

- Potty time ?

- Y..y.es

- He looked at himself in the mirror, and blushed a deep purple now. He had become a mock-female, a transvestite with ringed boobs and a looped penis. they had shaved his head, except for the nape of his neck where they had plaited his hair.

- Well, aren’t you pleased with what we did ? , Amanda asked.

- It’s an operation worth a few quid, Bertha said. You might express some gratitude.

Instead, he broke into tears, and collapsed on the toilet seat.

- There, there, Amanda said, patting his shoulder.

- Too much at once, I understand. Can you show us if you can pee ?

As if his body wanted to make up for his lack of manners, he noticed he was peeing sitting down, the beam squirting right down into the bowl. He realised how weird it felt not having the sensation of urine flowing through his penis. He shivered.

- We’re pleased, to tell you the truth, Amanda continued, as she ordered him to resume the position in the gyno chair. I have made an appointment at the piercing studio, and we’re going to have you permanently chastised next week.

Inside his new, live nightmare he now knew that, inside the bowels of the vast house, in this very private torture room, where no screams that might escape from their victim would ever reach the outside world, he was delivered to their mercy.

One evening, he saw Bertha standing in the door opening. She was grinning from ear to ear.

-Welcome to hell. You and I are going to have some fun, she hissed. She was visibly pleased with the sight of him in agony because of his warped erection. She knelt beside his chair, and gave two short, sharp squeezes with her nails in his nipples. Then she began fondling his sown-up balls, with smart, adroit squeezes that made him horny and scream with pain at the same time. Bertha laughed in a cackling way and planted her mouth on his. He felt her hungry tongue reach inside his mouth. Then she straddled his head, and began riding his face with her crotch. His ankles were shackled to the stirrups. As she was riding him, she forced him to suck her stump. The trick was to avoid the metal lid that covered her mutilated penis, and lollingly stimulate what had been left of the shaft with his tongue. Sharp, smart pinches in his nipples would indicate that he was doing the right thing, or not.

Apparently there was more feeling in it than she had let him know so far, and after what seemed like an hour of torment, half suffocating in her stinking crotch, she finally came, the thick smelly semen she had been hoarding for so many weeks squirting in his agonised face. All the while, his dick was fully swollen and painfully, painfully trying to break away from the stranglehold of the plastic loop. As she wiped herself clean she looked at him with a mix of pity, amusement and envy.

- There’s only one way to loose the loop, you know. After three months of this, you will beg her to cut off your prick, because you won’t be able to stand another morning with a hard-on. That’s the way it works. She unshackled him, then helped him stand on his own two shaky legs. She took him to the large kitchen, shivering in his thin cotton blanket, and gave him a cup of tea and a bowl of milky slop that contained some granola.

Then the bathroom for the morning skull shave and the plaiting of his neck hair.

Then, still shivering, now naked without his blanket, she led him back up the stairs to the room where the gynaecologist’s chair was. She made him sit, strapped his wrists and ankles to the chair, then called her mistress.

She appeared in the door, visibly pleased with her slave’s new accoutrement and took great pains to inspect him from all angles. Inevitably this caused him to have another erection, which amused and pleased her and Bertha greatly.

-Perfect, she said. It seems we have done a first rate job. She kissed him on the forehead. Aren’t you pleased yourself ? You look so serious.

- Express your gratitude for what mistress did for you, snapped Bertha.

- Th..thank you, mistress, he managed to stammer.

- Good, said mistress. Bertha will show you what to do now. If I hear that you are not co-operative you will be punished by induced erection. Your breaking in has finally begun. With that, she left the room.

- Come along, dear, we have work to do, said Bertha. She inserted a plastic nozzle up his rectum and hooked a rubber bag to a hospital stand in the corner.

One quart, Bertha said, let’s see if you can take it like a man - while you still are one. Paul felt the contents of the bag empty inside his bowels, and he watched in amazement as his belly swelled up like a balloon.

-Excellent, grunted Bertha, one more. She replaced the empty bag with a full one, then repeated the procedure. The swelling was now beginning to become painful, his abdomen distinctly swollen like a pregnant woman’s.

- Third time pays for all, she joked.

- No please, begged Paul. I’m full.

- Oh-uh. Resistance. One more for punishment. You had better shut up or you’ll burst. She gave another quart, with Paul screaming for her to stop.

Amanda, reappeared, visibly annoyed at the racket that was going on.

- Is he giving you difficulties ? she asked Bertha.

- He sure is. Can’t even take three quarts.

- We can’t have that, snapped Amanda. Regardless of what Bertha had been doing to his bowels she forced a large, chromium, onion-shaped butt-plug up his arse. It was kept in place by a belt around the waste, from which a strap went down between his buttocks, dividing into two straps coming up on either side of his balls and looped penis, The straps were fastened with a padlock on his stomach.

- Electrodes, ordered Amanda. Bertha handed her two mean looking crocodile clamps. She fastened one to the newly installed butt plug, the other on his left testicle, hidden tightly in his split scrotal sack.

- Give him 6 volts intermittently for 5 minutes, then switch to 12 for 2 minutes.

After that, he’s to beg you for one quart more. When you’re done, bring him to me. She left the room.

- Paul was wrestling in vain against his restraints.

- I’m going to like this, Bertha chuckled. She turned a dial on the control trolley. A burning pain shot through Paul’s innards, then subsided. Then another jolt, and another. He screamed and sobbed with fear and pain.

- Please no, no more.

Bertha slapped his face hard.

- Shut up, you wimp. You heard the Mistress. Five minutes without a sound, or I’ll start again.

He realised he had to concentrate hard on not squeaking, or his ordeal would last all day - Bertha clearly enjoyed hurting him more than his apportioned quota.

He grunted as the jolts pierced his entrails, feeling like hot bee-stings ripping through his flesh. After what seemed like an eternity the torture stopped.

Bertha changed something on the control pad, then turned the dial again.

This time there was no fighting the pain. As if someone had lit a blowtorch inside his guts, Paul screamed to have Bertha stop the torment.

Another hard slap across his face was the immediate result. He kept on screaming, uncontrollably, then stammering and whining to please stop the hurt.

Bertha burst out in a cackling laugh.

- You want me to fetch mistress again ? Perhaps she might like to put 24 volts on you and burn your insides like she did mine ! She went on torturing him in spite of his pleas for mercy, looking at him intensely with her strange, dead eyes.

Finally he felt the pain subside ; Bertha had turned off the power.

- Now say the words, she hissed.

- Wha-what words, he moaned.

A slap across the face, again.

- You heard ! Beg for another quart !

- No, he moaned. Please no !

- Very well, then we start again.

She grasped for the dial, but Paul’s scream stopped her in her tracks.

- Please no !

- Then say the words ! Beg !

- Please, eh er please a quart more, he heard himself stammer.

- Most certainly, Bertha snapped. With a trained movement she unscrewed part of the but plug, the inserted the enema-nozzle and hung another full bag off the stand. Immediately, Paul felt his stomach swell up again until what seemed the point of bursting. He realised he would have to control the pain somehow, or Bertha would start the entire routine again.

- Thank me, said Bertha.

- What ? said Paul.

- Thank me for hurting you. Show your gratitude.

- He looking at her with bulging eyes.

- Are you going to thank me or would you like another quart ?

- No, please, no-no.

- So ?

- Th-thank y-you f-fr for hurting me, he whispered.

- My pleasure, I’m sure. With a catlike movement she ripped out the nozzle and at the same moment pushed back in the steel buttplug. She strapped it firmly to his body. Then, to Paul’s surprise, he was unstrapped from the torture chair and helped to his feet. Come, we must show the mistress the result of my handiwork.

Like a victim led to safety by some official after a road accident she supported him and led him stumbling to the room where Amanda was reading a book.

- Well then, she smiled, looking up, did you succeed ?

- In the end, as usual, said Bertha. He’s got 4 quarts just the way you ordered.

Paul was standing in the middle of the lounge, and could not help but watch himself in the big mirror opposite. Naked and shivering, he saw his pregnant belly protrude absurdly from his body, the swollen red and blue marks of abuse all over his skin, the nipple clamps dangling from his swollen breasts and the forbidding leather belt that held in the plug embracing his lower parts. Then there was the loop, obscenely protruding from his shrivelled penis. He began to cry in shame.

- Yes, take a good look at what we did to you so far, said Amanda. This is only the beginning of you road to slavery. She stood up, walked behind him and started fondling his breasts and belly.

-I love the form of a pregnant woman, and I am going to make you look like one permanently. Daily enemas and gassy food will help disfigure your stomach and make it permanently swollen. I want you to let your stomach expand freely at all times.

Amanda grabbed one of the titclamps in front of her, then pulled Paul towards her. He moaned in pain. Understood ? She gave a playful yank at the loop. He screamed with pain.

- Y..yes, mistress, he stammered.

- I want you to fully understand that you are nothing but an accessory now, for me to remodel as I see fit. You are a spineless, grovelling worm to me, and it gives me great pleasure to destroy whatever was left of your dignity.

O.K. then , end of sermon, on your way; Bertha will show you your tasks. Be good now !

- Okay, Bertha said. As you’ve heard, today you’re to keep in the enema I gave you. Tonight Mistress will give you permission to relieve yourself, but normally you will wear that buttplug at all times, with the exception of crap time, which is at noon. If you can’t do it, tough shit, the plug goes in after 15 minutes and you next chance is 24 hours later. Understand ? He nodded.

Immediately the effect of her words kicked in. He realised that not only would he have to deal with the urethral chastity device day and night, but also with the threatening presence of the plug. He knew how peculiar he was when it came to defecating, and he already knew he would be walking around with his bowels about to burst, held in check by the insert.

Riveted to the belt was a leather loincloth which covered his sex. He was given a pair of high-heeled low boots that were very tight and hurt his feet the minute he put them on.

- It’s important you learn to walk these properly, said Bertha. You must learn to take small, ladylike paces, so the first couple weeks you are to wear these.

She put on two leather anklecuffs, that were connected by a 12 inch chain.

She made him walk up and down the kitchen. He saw himself pass by in a wall mirror, his belly swollen and hanging from his body like a bag full of entrails, his looped penis now hidden by the black leather loincloth, his legs and calves strangely profiled by wearing the high heels, and the stumbling paces the ankle restraint would only allow him to take. His face looked worn and worried, strangely without expression at the same time, his shaven skull reflected the light of the kitchen lamp, the plait hanging down his neck gave him a ridiculous look as if he were a Chinese eunuch dressed up as a ‘20s whore.

- If you fall, I shall whip you twenty times, she added.

Then she set about teaching him the ropes of the household. He was to mop, slop, dust and vacuum the surgeon’s mansion daily, wearing his kinky maid’s outfit, stumbling about on the impossible, cramped, high-heeled boots.

Each day, he was given a new garment to try on: corsets of various shapes and forms, some with tiny little spikes inside that would bite his flesh as they fastened the straps tying him in. Garter belts made of silk or leather, holding up fishnet stockings , that made him look like a Paris hooker. A large corset, with a built-in butt plug, meant to worn outdoors in combination with a short leather skirt, pushing up his tits. But all the while, regardless of his dress, they made him wear the boots, torturing his feet and ankles.

After an hour of hobbling around in the kitchen and adjacent stairwell Paul was so tired that he accidentally dropped the bucket he was carrying, stumbled and fell to the floor.

Apparently this was what Bertha had been waiting and hoping for. Immediately she was standing over him, ordering to remain down on the floor. In her right hand was a riding crop which came down mercilessly on his thighs and buttocks.

She worked herself up to a frenzy, having the blows rain on his defenceless body, kicking him in the balls and screaming at him what a useless slob he was.

And each night, without fail, Amanda would have him stand in the middle of the lounge, just in his garter belt and boots, his hands shackled to his belt, ordering him to let out his belly, and having Bertha to apply the heavy metal clamps on his nipples. Then there would be two more that bit his testicles. He was to stand motionless, forbidden to speak, until, invariably, tears of shame, frustration and pain would stream down his cheeks and his whole frame would be shaking with

impotent anger at the indignity that he had been done.

There was standing to attention at social functions, cooking, chauffeuring and shopping. There was working out at the gym with Bertha, daily, working up a sweat and improving his muscle tone. He was given to understand that if he passed his three month’s trial period, he would have to pick up karate and Thai boxing to serve as a body guard for his mistress. To his surprise, there were other slaves training at the sports club. He could tell by their shaven heads and neck plaits. It turned out their owners, men and women of considerable means, had bought into the gymnasium and could allocate exclusive time to their slaves. Usually, during workouts, they would wear large, baggy clothes to cover their modified bodies, but once a week they would be in the sauna, naked, slaves only, to let off steam and clean themselves more thoroughly than during the week.

There were gay slaves without testicles, their penises often grotesquely deformed by all manner of piercings, some with the shaft split open. There were straight slaves with permanent rings running through their balls, there were complete eunuchs without anything at all between their legs, a piss hole redirected between their thighs. Once, when the ladies sauna was out of order, they would sit with female slaves as well, women without breasts, lesbian eunuchs whose inner and outer labia had been cut away, a metal stud where their clit had once been.

Straight women whose cunts had been sewn shut, forced to wear sharkteeth titclips at all times and liking it, all to the greater glory of their dominators.

Not a word was spoken during these gatherings. Partly because everybody was too self conscious to speak to anyone else, surprised as they were by the grotesqueness of grown up human beings who had chosen to give up their dignity, sanity and health to serve their dominant, partly because supervisors like Bertha would be there who would inform their masters and mistresses of any untoward word or action.

Also, the cruelty of some of the slave-owners towards their slaves went beyond anything he had ever dreamed of. Most amazing of all, well known women, socialites and beneficiaries of worthy causes, turned out to be creatures from hell, eager to play havoc with the well-being of their slaves.

One such woman, a much admired musical agent who managed all the big stars in the metropolis, and the star of many fund-raising galas to combat hunger and child-abuse, wanted to punish a trespass of her older, extremely loyal male slave. Bertha told Paul how she and ten other people had watched her force him to slide a barbed rod into his own urethra, the hooks preventing it from ever being taken out. Unable to urinate he knew he had three choices: not piss and die of thirst, drink and go mad or ask his mistress to cut off his dick . Reportedly she had obliged on condition that he eat his own penis.

Another, a woman who had refused to perform oral sex on a fellow slave, was tied to a pole by her lesbian mistress, the wealthy owner of a fashion empire, and wrapped in latex with the exception of her breasts and genitals. Those were covered in a sugary extract, then killer ants were placed on her exposed flesh which was devoured in a matter of minutes.

When pleased with the result, her lady would kill the ants with a repellent, then unwrap her screaming victim and make her kiss her feet to thank him for her kindness. All this with the colleague slave-owners and their slaves looking on and enjoying every minute of the debauchery that went on.

Paul was amazed that grown- up human beings would be involved in outrages like that, and even more that others would let them to these things to them.

Then he would look down at his mutilated genitals, and laugh at his own naiveté . He realised his mistress had been right all along. It wasn’t the sadism of the other person you had to fear most, but your own desire to have it forced upon you.

© 2005 Angela Nyman, NYC To be continued.