Reduced To A Machine By Mistress
FemDom erotica by slave penny
Reduced To A Machine: He believed he had just felt a cool breeze, a waft of air from the outside world. His naked body would certainly be sensitive to such a thing. He knew, in reality however, that it could not be true. His room of confinement was deep inside the complex, many rooms from the nearest window or door to the outside world.
He looked intently at the monitor in front of him. He had finished but he still needed to check and proof read his latest work.
In the world outside, a world of which he was no longer part, this would have been a natural time for respite. Perhaps a drink and, at the least, a few minutes relaxation before checking the full article. This however was no longer that world. He knew that those monitoring his actions via the camera in the top corner of his room would counter any sign of recess or lull in the most painful of ways.
He’d lost track of the amount of time he’d been here. It was at least 6 months; maybe more than a year. It was long enough for him to be aware that any resistance to this regime had long been extinguished within him. He hated them for what they had done to him but he complied with their requirements and gave them all they needed. There was no loyalty but still complete acquiescence.
He looked up at the clock and saw it was 6.20. He’d been set to start at around 3.30 so it had taken him about 3 hours to complete the 1500 words or so. Whether those times were pm. or am. he had no idea. He had no need to know. They decided when it was time to sleep. The monitor would go black and the light in the room extinguished. Apart from the odd “stand by” light on the equipment in the room there would be complete blackness. Experience told him that sleep would soon follow. He was now fully aware that the certainty of sleep at that time meant it must be drug induced. Both his thighs were held to the chair by hinged clasps. The one covering his left thigh was twice the length of the one covering the right. He could sense the wires and tubes which punctures his left thigh. They were not painful or even uncomfortable and he had never seen them, but he knew they were there. He never eat nor drank in the conventional way so he knew that in addition to any drugs his basic nutritional needs were supplied via drips into that thigh.
His mouth, effectively unused was constantly dry. Periodically his loneliness would be punctuated by the appearance of a male or female in glaring orange overalls, clearly depicting a lowly rank. No words were spoken. He no longer had cause to speak. They would spray a little moisture into his mouth like a mechanic spraying oil onto a machine and then they would just turn and leave.
The drug induced sleep and the moisturising of his mouth could almost be described as compassionate, but he realised that he was there for one purpose and the requirement for him to sleep and at least be able to function suited their requirements. They were being practical. There was certainly no compassion.
He remembers feeling pretty satisfied with himself when he’d posted his short story on the kink forum at least 2 years ago. It was good, even if he said so himself. He also vividly remembers reading her profile when he received that complimentary memo from her. She had a number of photos illustrating her exceptional beauty. She categorised herself as lifestyle dominant and her photos supported the premise. Boots, heels and an abundance of leather, latex and PVC adorned the majority of her photos. He learned later that these weren’t just for show. She enjoyed wearing them and her overflowing walk-in wardrobe would evidence this. She liked to look powerful. Clothes like these made her feel powerful and a sense of power, especially sexual power, was a real turn on for her.
Memos were exchanged, followed by meetings and a Mistress/slave relationship evolved very rapidly. The compliments of her first memo to him were soon forgotten. She was a bitch. She constantly highlighted his inadequacies and made him feel useless and worthless. The more she reviled him, the more he adored and worshipped her. There was mental conflict. He would hate her at the same time as he revered her.
In just a short period she gained full control of his sexuality as his cock was caged and she held the keys.
She was stunningly beautiful, she was dominant and dominating aroused her intently. This was not her first love however. She was bisexual. With her, the male was for dominating and enslaving and she gained sexual kindling from this. Her more severe physically or mentally cruel deeds would sometimes even induce sexual orgasm.
It was with the female that she obtained tenderness, mutual loving and sex in its more conventional sense. He would often be introduced to her girlfriends and his role as her slave was never disguised.
He still remembers that day in the dim and distant past. He reflects on how perfectly it must have been planned. Had he thought there was any possibility that it was intended he disappear from the planet, then all the unusual arrangements would have made sense. She had told him they were to visit a femdom village. The thought that such a place existed aroused him intently, as it was no doubt expected to. He was normally the chauffeur but on this occasion the car was driven by another. When he was tied and blindfolded he could understand the need. After all she was taking him to a femdom conclave and although trust had been established between them, the other females would be understandably cautious.
When they arrived he could hear his Mistress being greeted by others. There was something about the way they spoke to each other and the way they spoke about him that he could tell they were seasoned and experienced, natural dominant females. He remained blindfold as he felt himself led into a building and down a number of corridors. He could hear sharp commands from those who were leading him, including his own Mistress, and humble apologies and acknowledgements indicating the presence of numerous slaves en route. He could hear the scrubbing of floors, walls or windows. He was aware that doors were being opened and closed before and after the small party by which he was captive proceeded through the building.
He remembers being sat into a chair, that chair, still blindfold, and the long almost endless time it took for him to be prepared and wired to the cocoon that was to become his shell. In the darkness of the blindfold he began to realise there was more to this than a mere visit. At one point he must have lost consciousness, no doubt he was subject to drug induced sleep.
No doubt drug induced sleep was followed by a drug induced recovery. No longer blindfold, he awoke and was immediately aware that he had company.
It was not his Mistress, but another woman. The beauty of his Mistress did not betray her capacity for cruelty and domination. This woman’s face made no attempt to disguise her cruelty and strictness. She emphasise it with her blonde hair tied in a severe bun. Tight brown leather trousers, matching leather gloves, high heeled ankle boots and a cream satin blouse further enhanced her threatening, but still beautiful, appearance.
She smiled as he awoke. It wasn’t a welcoming smile, but a self congratulatory one. She said nothing but raised her leather gloved hand towards the camera in the top corner of the room and clicked her fingers. Immediately an excruciating pain shot through his body centred on his genital. He could not move. He was virtually welded to the chair in which he was cocked. He looked down at his genitals but they were not to be seen. They were effectively encased in the chair.
“That is what you get if you disobey or disappoint us”, she said harshly.
The pain continued. It was unbearable, but unable to move or respond to it in any way, all he could do was bear it.
“On the other hand,” she continued, as she raised her hand to the camera once more.
The pain stopped and he felt a warm arousing sensation throbbing through his cock. Deep inside his penis he could feel his sex being teased, taunted and tantalised. In very little time he felt as though he was going to orgasm. Surely he was going to explode, he prepared himself for release. The muscles at the base of his balls contracted as they always did when announcing the imminent explosion of cum. There was no orgasm, he was merely held on the cusp of release at that pinnacle of arousal. In some respect the pleasure was as unbearable as the pain recently endured.
“Look at me,” she said.
He could do no other, the chair had automatically swung to face her and his head was held rigidly within the chair.
She paused and just looked at him. She waited and waited as this insufferable sexual torment continued.
“You desire me, don’t you?” She laughed “You long for me, you are desperate to have me, you worship me, don’t you?” She laughed even louder.
“So ingenious don’t you think?” She smiled. “We have the power to make you suffer the most unendurable pain and also have the power to make you worship and desire any woman standing before you”.
There was no denying that everything she said was true. He could still recall the severity of the pain and yet now, constantly held at the peak of sexual arousal, his desire for this woman he had only seen for the first time a few moments was beyond description.
That is how it all started. To him it now seemed a lifetime ago, although he knew that not to be the case.
So back to the job in hand. He scrutinised the monitor and his work intently. The finished product had to be perfect. They settled for nothing less than perfection. He got no reward, no praise but he would be severely punished for anything less than perfection.
There were no spelling mistakes, no obvious typing errors and it flowed perfectly as he read through it. He knew that missing anything would prove extremely painful, but he had to send it and, press the send button he did.
The keyboard and the mouse were the centre of his universe. Between him and the keyboard was a clear plastic shield. It was about 5 inches high and just a few inches wider than the keyboard. In the centre of this shield along almost its whole length was an oval shaped gap. His wrists were clasped inside cuffs that were themselves secured to the inside of this gap. The only movement available for his arms was therefore along the length of this plastic shield. He was able to type on the keyboard and operate the mouse but nothing else. His legs and his body were completely restrained to the chair.
The chair moulded around him like half a shell. Not only was he cocooned inside it but he was wired to it. Wires from the chair were attached to electrodes stuck to his body in numerous predetermined places from his forehead to his ankles. A wide metal tube inside his anus and its much thinner equivalent deep inside his urethra served two purposes. They were both part of the process for dealing with his human waste but were also wired and could induce sensations deep within him. Pain or arousal and their intensity were the remit of whoever controlled the switches and dials in the room where the view from that camera was being monitored.
He had one role. His skills at erotic literature were now theirs to use and exploit. The chair, him, the monitor and keyboard acted as one. One complex but efficient machine.
– slave penny