Then one foggy Saturday morning, they drove him to the piercing studio for his fateful appointment which would make his chastising permanent.

Bert, the gay owner, and his helper, welcomed them with all manner of courtesy, thrilled as they were to perform the insertion.

They were shown into the surgery, and Paul was ordered to strip.

- A most unusual and very creative request, if I may say so. Are you willing to go through with this ?

- Most certainly’, said Amanda. ‘Aren’t we, Paul ?’

He nodded. After signing some litigation waivers and paying the piercer’s fee, he took out a mean looking set of pliers and unceremoniously cut the plastic loop that had held Paul’s tool in thrall for the past six weeks.

Then, gently but firmly, he began to extract the plastic from his penis, slowly but surely. Paul felt the loop slip between his legs, then travel all the way through what was left of his urethra, until finally Bert held up the fifteen inches of plastic.

A tremendous sense of relief engulfed Paul’s lower body.

- OK, said Bert. I’ll leave you to it, while we prepare the definitive loop.

Perhaps a final ejaculation before we tame the beast for good ?’

Amanda began fondling his penis and taut balls, and whispering how he might as well this last orgasm as a man, before he would be chastised for good.

With long, sensuous strokes she brought him to a climax, while Bertha put the whole episode on video. As he came, he heard the screeching sound of metal being sanded down. He felt the cum trickle from between his legs, slowly dribbling towards his anus.

Then Bert reappeared, a half bent stainless steel loop in hand.

- Here we are. Made to measure, made to last. He knelt between Paul’s spread legs, and injected a little jelly into the opening. Then he pushed the steel into his flesh, and Paul felt the cold metal creep up his groin, millimetre by millimetre, as Bert pushed, Amanda watched and Bertha filmed.

In retrospect it felt so uncannily clear. He was aware of every detail that struck his eye, as three grown up human beings were wilfully mutilating and incapacitating a fourth for good. As Bert was pushing the metal through his insides he noticed he was beginning to go bald on top, he saw the tiny droplets of perspiration on Bert’s brow, his eyebrows squeezed together because of the effort, he saw Bert’s chesthair sticking out of the denim shirt he wore, and he recalled wondering if he would make a good lover, what it would be like to be under him, legs spread, ready to receive, like a woman, a foreign body, passively, you groin forever shut, him fondling the mock breasts that were now heaving with excitement. He watched Bertha filming, her massive, still body blocking out the sunlight filtering through the blinds, he saw the architect of his undoing, Amanda, standing casually aside, an amused smile on her beautiful face as he was being skewered.

Finally, after what had seemed an age, the rod appeared through his swollen glans, a little bloody.

- Wonderful, exclaimed Amanda. She stepped closer, to look as if to say: we’re almost there, and then you’ll be mine for good.

She pushed his chin up with her index finger, then gave him a deep stare, directly into his eyes.

- You’re handling that rather well, my love. I am proud of you. Ready to be chastised then ?

He grunted, weeping, shaking with fear, frustration and lust at the same time.

Bert knelt between his spread thighs, bringing the two ends of the metal rod together. They consisted of a pin in hole, and a sliding clamp kept the two ends together temporarily. Through both pin and hole a tine cylindrical hole had been drilled. Now a deep frozen pin was pushed through. As the pin took on a normal temperature it expanded, and the weld was permanent.

Bert took a Dremel grinder to cut flush the ends of the pin still sticking out.

Then a final sanding, some metal polish, and he was done.

Bertha and Amanda applauded, the hugged Bert, then him, to congratulate him on a job well done.

A mirror was placed between his legs, and he could now see the full extent of his chastity device. His flaccid penis seemed to be pissing frozen metal, the loop bent away from the shrivelled flesh and gracefully curved back into his body behind the scrotal sack.

- Want me to leave the room, so you can test his erection ? Bert suggested discretely.

- No need , Bert, you may stay, Amanda giggled. She reached between her legs, fingered herself for a bit, then held two wet fingers under his nose.

The smell went straight into his cortex, it was so overpowering; the scent of musk coupled with that of her urine sent a giant signal down to his organ, and a massive erection followed.

Unlike the plastic loop, which had still allowed him some leeway, this contraption was totally fixed, and his flesh pushed itself forward like a mini- rollercoaster taking a curve. As his penis grew, so did his pain, it felt like an iron hand bent his member out of joint, bit by bit, until the swollen flesh had travelled the full length of the metal and was now, unbelievably, kissing the skin between his legs.

He cried, he groaned, moaned, please no, his entire body was shaking in the restraints of the chair, tears were streaming down his cheeks.

Amanda stood there, motionless, her eyes wide with excitement, her hands firmly planted on her hips, her tongue licking her lower lip.

- Wonderful, she panted. - I just love to see you this way, now and every next day of you life. Lovely. Bert and Bertha too were visibly excited by the sight of his painful erection and utter frustration and humiliation.

Finally, finally finally his erection subsided, and he was left, spent, slumped in the gyno chair, like a wet reed, convulsing, weeping without a sound, shaking and blubbering.

They unshackled him, helped him stand on his own two feet, and began to dress him , first a night gown, then a very baggy track suit and trainers. He was shivering all the time, as they marched him towards the car. Inside the vehicle he wrapped himself in a blanket, crouched in a corner, as Bertha sped away in the busy Saturday traffic.

At the mansion, once again, Paul was forced to watch himself in the tall mirror in the lounge. His wounds had all healed, and his body looked almost like a woman’s. His face looked distinctly feminine, the bald skull notwithstanding, his neck adorned with the slave collar. He found he was pleased with his breasts, swollen and protruding because of the daily abuse, the nipple rings dangling playfully from their tips.

Because of the daily enemas and the beans, sprouts and cabbage he had been fed over the past weeks, his stomach and guts had swollen and become gassy, and his belly was now permanently swollen into almost a half sphere. Below it, his limp penis was held in the eternal curve of the loop; his balls now sown taut in the reduced mock labia on either side.

A further implement of slavehood had been added to his sorrow: a chastity belt to prevent him from having anal intercourse. A stainless steel belt was put around his waist; at the back, a narrow strip of metal bent down between his buttocks to keep inside his rectum a giant steel knob a constant reminder of his vulnerability and slavehood; then the strip split into two steel wires straddling his scrotum, coming up again against his swollen belly and riveted to the waistband. The contraption closed shut with a small padlock at the front. The only freedom he had was to pee at his discretion, otherwise his bodily functions had been curtailed by his mistress.

His legs looked muscled, the calf muscles accentuated by the high heels he was wearing. Amanda stroked his back and shoulders, kissed his ear and began fondling his balls and dick. He groaned, feeling an erection coming.

Amanda giggled.

- Tonight is party night”, my beauties. “Let’s rock and roll for a change.”

Adjacent to the gym Amanda’s coterie owned a closed social club, where they and their slaves would gather. Paul would be made to wax his legs, shave extra smoothly, have his skull shaven bald like Bertha’s, the be made up like a woman, with heavy pancake on his face, lipstick and mascara, his hair in a gold-intertwined plait. Bertha would inject saline into his already swollen minibreasts and make them appear truly feminine. She would then perfume his crotch and shaven armpits, wrists and ankles, then make him put on high-heeled boots.

A dog’s leash was then hooked onto his penal loop, and when satisfied with the result Bertha would drag him to Amanda’s room and show him to their mistress.

- Most pert and delightful, I’m sure ! , said Amanda when she gave Paul the lookover.

- I think you’re ready to be shown in public.

Bertha held out the macintosh which Paul hastily slipped on, and the three of them left the house and boarded the town car parked in the driveway.

In the foyer he was ordered to take off his raincoat, and there he stood, naked but for the chastity belt and stockings and high heeled shoes, his breasts totally like a woman’s, his face made up, his penis held in check by the ever present chastity loop. his wrists were shackled to rings on the hip section of his belt.

At the club, there was ridicule and hilarity at his nakedness while they were sipping their drinks , always forced to show his chastised maleness, often forced to perform blow jobs on the men, or burying his head between the perfumed thighs of the women. Often times they would tug at his loop, the women enjoyed exciting him with their looks, remarks and gestures, and invariably he would have an erection, totally ashamed, in pain and on the verge of tears.

And nothing would please any of them better than when he would break down, when they were having their port and cigars, with him sobbing on his knees in front of them, kneeling on the carpet. They would even lay odds on how long it would be before he would implore his mistress to cut off his dick and free him of his daily ordeal.

All that, he found, you could get used to, and even begin to like, as he licked the genitals of his mistress’s friends.

What amazed him most was that all sorts of social icons were members of the club. What also seemed unbelievable was that the women, many of them soft spoken but powerful public figures, would turn out to be the cruellest sadists.

Privately, Amanda turned out to be a lesbian mostly. She entertained discreet relationships with one or two woman friends at a time. Sometimes they slept over at the Mansion, sometimes at the small cottage Amanda owned in a distant corner of the Pennines, and on occasion he or Bertha, or sometimes both of them were forced to satisfy Amanda and her lover orally, while they chatted and petted in Amanda’s large bed.

There was occasional torture, but the torture you grew accustomed to. There were occasional cuntlicking sessions when his mistress was in a good mood. There was Bertha-licking when she was in a foul one, and again sucking Bertha’s cum out of her stump when she was orgasming. Worst of all, there were the dark spells with him and Bertha alone in the house, when he was made to feel the full brunt of her impotent rage at being sentenced to a death of her own making. She would force his face between her thighs, smother him with her mock-feminine crotch to near asphyxiation, then fistfuck him until his gut bled.

Fistfucking was an integral part of his breaking-in period. Bertha would start with two or three fingers, then five, then force her entire hand inside him, rhythmically expanding his anus with her clenched fist, taking delight in the plopping sound as she went inside and out. At the height of her passion she would double fist him, stretching his anal muscle to its limit, with him screaming like a pig led to the slaughterhouse. The afterpain was excruciating; the torture was repeated daily and he was forced to wear ever bigger butt plugs.

At the same time, his balls would be stretched until they felt like tearing away from his body. This was done by means of a ballstretcher.

All of it he knew he could get used to, even like the regularity of the servitude, seeing the abuse as so much ritual bonding him closer to his mistress.

The only thing that never stopped hurting him though was the loop. Every morning at four his body played its trick on him, making him wake in pain, his dick throbbing, his entire being screaming to be freed of the restraint of his manhood. Every morning the realisation that this would never again happen, not for the remainder of his life or for as long as he would have a penis.

And every morning, Paul cried. He sobbed like the baby he knew he was, unable to snap out of the stranglehold Amanda had over his personality, needing her cruel attention, craving her henchman’s whip is spite of the pain, addicted to the road to perdition they had mapped out for him.

And so the weeks turned into months, and almost a year had passed when one evening, after dinner, Amanda caught him in a pensive mood, brooding over his status in life so far. He realised that, in spit of all the horrors he had witnessed and undergone himself he had no power, nor wish to dissociate himself from his present situation. He realised Amanda’s stranglehold on his existence was total and all encompassing. Only the daily recurring torture of the loop, the morning erection that would invariable announce itself, yank him out of his sleep, play havoc with his sanity seemed like a huge thorn in his side, an more and more it felt as if it stood between him and the final acceptance of his slavehood.

It was as if Amanda had read his thoughts. She stood close to him, stroking his head, smiling at him.

- I am very content with you, so far. You are diligent, eager to please, and your pain treshold is entirely satisfactory. I think it’s time I broke you for good. But first, we’ll spend a night of delightful torture, just you and me. Open a bottle of champagne and join me in my boudoir.

Paul did as he was told, and fetched a bottle of Mumms out of the fridge, then took two glasses and went upstairs to his mistress’s bedroom.

she invited him to lay next to her, and offered him a glass of bubbly.

- Cheers , dear. To new beginnings.

- To new beginnings, he toasted and sipped his drink. As he hadn’t been drinking alcohol for such a long time, the wine went straight to his head.

Thank you for inviting me in, mistress. I love you very much.

- That’s so sweet, honey. Particularly in view of what I’m going to do to you tonight.

- Do to me mistress ?

- Yes, sweety. Tonight’s the night. Remember I told you you were going to be broken ? That’s going to happen in a little while.

- Broken ?

- Broken. Changed, reprogrammed, altered, call it whatever you want.

- You’re about to become a different person. So drink up and join me.

With that, she got off the bed and wrapped her gown tightly around her.

Then she pressed a button, and a part of the wall receded into the adjacent dresser. Behind it lay a corridor, painted a neutral grey, at the end of which was pink door. she summoned him, then led him into a small room, which had only a Spartan bench adorned with leather straps and a stool for furniture.

Get on, dear. And remember, this room is totally soundproof. You can scream your little heart out, it will not even get past these walls.

As he had stretched himself on the leatherclad bench, she began strapping him in.

-It’s and awful lot of straps for one man, she joked.

-But trust me, you’ll need them. She shackled his ankles and calves/calves, then the thighs and the wide belt across his stomach.

- Is this comfortable ? she asked with a worried frown on her face

-No chafing? Because once we’re off I don’t want you distracted by minor irritations like tight bonds, understand ?

He told her the straps were just fine. - Good, she grunted, and continued immobilising his body. He noticed how his head was yet free to move.

- Aren’t you going to strap my head? he asked

- No, she said . -I want you to be able to watch when I chop your pencil.

- Chop my pencil? he asked. -What is that supposed to mean?

- You’ll find out soon enough. Trust me.

His entire body with the exception of his head was now firmly held by the leather bands. His rectum had grown accustomed to the giant plug she had inserted earlier. It was still there, but seemed strangely in place.

Amanda walked to the tool table, then came back with a hand mirror which she held in front of his face.

- I want you to take a good look at yourself. This is how you were before I started work on you. Remember, you’ll never be the same, think the same, feel the same when I’m done.

- Yeyes, mistress, he heard himself stammer.

- You want to go through with it, then ?

- Yes mistress.

- You want me to break you until you have no further desire to be a man ?

- Yes , he whispered. I do.

- Excellent.

She turned briskly around on her heels, and grabbed a pair of surgical rubber gloves from the table. With a few trained gestures she put them on her slender but firm hands, the rubber delicately slapping her dark skin.

She then took a menacing looking skewer and held it in front of his face.

- Here we go, Paul. With its needle-sharp point she began scouring the area nearest his nipple on his left tit. When she found a spot to her liking, she turned the skewer around and like a hand drill it began eating its way inside his breast.

When she hit a nerve, Paul screamed out in agony. He felt the cold steel travelling slowly through his butchered flesh, then finally hit the inside skin opposite, seeking a way out. In amazement he watched the bloody point shooting out of his breast. His torturer sighed with satisfaction, then reached for a second skewer on the trolley. He howled with pain as the second spear pierced his right breast, leaving a bloody trickle at the place of entry. Without much ceremony in plopped out at the other end.

- Fine, you took that rather well, Amanda chuckled. Now for some heavier stuff.

She took a tube of lubricant and squirted some dollops on his nipples. It felt cold and prickly. With her rubbered fingers she spread the jelly around his sensitive breasts.

Then she picked up two menacingly looking metal clips from her surface and held them out before his eyes.

- Man enough to take these, my boy?

- It, err, I...

She laughed her high-pitched disdainful laugh, then with one fell swoop put one on his left nipple, the steel teeth biting mercilessly in his tender flesh.

It sent a scream of pain through his upper body.

- Aaaarh. he moaned.

She slapped his face. - Cut it out! I didn’t give you permission to moan, you weakling ! Express your gratitude. Again she slapped his face.

- Yeerrh yes, mistress. He gulped for air, trying to control the pain. Thank you.

- Good. Now ask for the next one like a good boy.

She watched in contempt as his eyes grew bigger at digesting the enormity of her command.

- The longer you wait, the more painful I’ll make things for you. Ask !!

Again the gloved hand lashed out at him, but this time she hit his tortured tit.

A scream of agony came out of his throat, then got stifled at the thought that she might hit him again for screaming.

- Ask, you pathetic slob, or I’ll twist your tit one full turn !

- No please, don’t, he moaned. - Please, put the other clip on.

A sadistic grin curled around her lips, baring her predatorlike teeth.

- Good boy. Another clip. Let’s have a biggy this time !

The implement she picked up from the table was twice as big as the one that was presently hurting his left nipple.

He wanted to protest , but her raised hand silenced him.

- Say please!

- Please mistress...!

- Please what ?

- Please..err.. put on the clip.

- Say where !

- On my nipple !

- Good boy ! You really want to hurt for me ?

- Yyyes ..he stammered.

This time she took her time administering the torture. Tantalisingly she took the gaping steel mouth closer to his right breast. With her left hand she made the flesh stand proud of the mount . Then she place the metal teeth on the red skin and with a snap let go of the grips.

The pain was so overwhelming that for one split second he did not feel anything at all. Then it hit him, but not on his chest as he had expected.

A ground swell of nausea took hold of his stomach, wrenching his entire upper body which now tried to break loose from the straps. His face grew red, his eyes bulged and a scream at the top of his voice left his throat.

This time Amanda did not bother to slap him. She stood still, watching the impact of her handiwork take control of her victim, and laughed noiselessly, then louder while his body was writhing in agony to escape the vicelike clamp.

As she licked her lips in a voluptuous display of excited control he stared at her in utter disbelief.

She brought her face close to his, grabbing hold of his chin to make him look her in the eye. Her intense brown eyes seemed to pierce his watery blue ones .

-You never believed it could be true, did you? You thought I was in this just for the money. You never for one minute contemplated that I actually enjoy your pain. I love every moment of this, and we’ve only just begun.

Her prey was breathing heavily now, with the tit clamps eating into his nipples, causing them to bleed . A small trickle of blood ran down his chest.

- Aaahd good, she exclaimed. We’ve drawn some juice here, I like it.

She pulled up a chair and sat next to his head.

- Now Paul, I want you to understand something while you still can. There’s no, but absolutely no point in fighting the pain I’m inflicting on you. This is only the beginning, and what your tits are feeling now is nothing compared to what I’m going to do in a little while. So think of the hurt as me, I’m visiting you and your body, and every attempt to block the pain I shall think of as an attempt to block me out. Understand?

He groaned. She gently twisted the smaller nipple clamp, watching his face as it contorted in pain.

-Look at me , Paul. This is me, I’m the pain you’re experiencing right now, and I won’t go away. Say you understand and that you want this.

She twisted the steel even further , pulling away from his chest.

He screamed, tears filled his eyes.

- Please mistress, please, I can’t

- Yes you can. Say it, you pathetic cry baby. Don’t you understand I ‘ll go on until hurting you until you speak ?

- Yeyess, yes , I understand and I thank you, he sobbed.

- No Paul, say you understand and that you want this.

- Ah ah ah I ...I understand and I want you to hurt me, he blurted.

-Good. Good boy. Good little lamb, suffering for your Goddess.

She laid on a little pause, and whether it was the small amount of praise she had just given him, or a general dulling of the senses he didn’t know, but the pain in his breast seemed to subside a little and to his surprise he realised how ultimately beautiful his tormentor really was.

Her thick black hair waved with every move she made , her green eyes flashed at him, and her smile, cruel and wicked though it was seemed to encourage him to go on and have her torture him at her pleasure.

Strangely, and to his surprise, he again began to experience a sensation of lust in his prick and testicles. His mistress was caressing his jewels, massaging the soft flesh, and soon his penis had begun to creep over the loop again. He moaned in agony.

- Nice, she said. Very nice indeed. But I did not give you permission to get stiff, so we must now punish you some more. She attached electrodes to the skewers, then turned a dial on the control trolley. Jolts of hurt pierced Paul’s breasts, to which the recent skewering was nothing in comparison. It felt like his tits were being cut over and over again, without mercy. Meanwhile, he saw Bertha busy putting the procedure on video from all conceivable angles.

Then she reached out to the tool trolley and grabbed an electrode which she attached to the loop through his penis. Another wire was screwed inside the butt plug inside him. Apparently, there was already a minor current running , for it felt like a knife entering his organ, mercilessly cutting into the tender wall of his urethra.

When the enormity of what she was about to do entered his brain he let out a groan. Immediately she looked up and paused.

- You don’t like it ?

- Please, mistress, it hurts, it’s so .....

- But darling, it’s supposed to hurt, remember ? This is me getting inside you. Everything we do here is meant to break you, in spirit and in the flesh, as you agreed, and this is only the humble beginning. This baby is going in all the way , and any more grunts out of you will only result in more pain to your tits ! So be quiet now and let me juice your pencil.

Leaving her victim to consider the result of her handiwork she leisurely walked to the far end of the chamber, and wheeled back a trolley with a complicated current transformer on it. All manner of wires, plugs and clamps were dangling from a hook on the vehicle, and big, menacingly looking flex connected the instrument to the mains.

- Right, let’s see, are you beginning to see the light ?

- I... it’s.... you’re going to...

- Yes , very clever, I’m going to galvanise your gut ! Are you ready to be fried, my baby ? Mama’s hungry tonight, so she’s cooking !

- Almost there, she whispered. She looked intently at his face, raising here eyebrows in a mock-question.

He panted, in fear, trying to detect what it was his tormentor wanted him to say. He saw the black, evil cat’s eyes scanning the thoughts his face seemed to give away.

- What have we forgotten ?

- Dunno, mistress, I...

- Dunno, dunno - being tortured is no excuse for bad grammar ! She gave a playful twist at one of the tit clamps. He cried out in agony.

- What part of your anatomy isn’t yet wired properly ?

- My balls, he whispered.

- Yessss! Bonus question answered correctly ! Winner gets number four clamps on his nads ! She groped near the floor and came up with two sinister looking clamps the shape of lemon presses, and they gave off an ominous shower of sparks when they touched one another. Inside, the scoops were lined with vicious-looking spikes and like lemon presses they could be opened with a hand-lever.

In a matter of fact way she opened the first clamp and set it over his left testicle.

- Say when. He moaned, fighting the moment, knowing that what would follow would send him through the roof with agony.

- Mama’s waiting. Would you like some titty-hurt ? Her right hand began playing his tit clamp again.

- Noohhw, please, please....

- Please what ?

- Please put on the clamp...

- What clamp? Be precise, will you.

- Please put the clamp on my ball, mistress.

© 2005 Angela Nyman, NYC To be continued.