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Archive-name: Slaves/trainin2.txt
Archive-author: K.K.
Archive-title: Reporter, The - 2


                             CHAPTER ELEVEN

                      AN INVITATION AND DISCUSSION

     I was sitting in my room reviewing some of the video tapes from
one of the shelves.  It was difficult for me to imagine these things
happening in real life and I was almost convinced that the guys on my
T.V. screen were actors.  I was in the middle of one that showed a man
being forced to walk, wearing high heels, past a crowd of women when I
heard a knock at my door.

     I opened the door and Kathy was there.  "Hi," she said, "I see
you've been watching television."

     "Interesting productions," I said, "where do you get the actors?"

     "What actors?"

     "The ones in the tapes."

     "Those aren't actors -- they're guys we captured one way or
another.  We taped their training or punishment episodes and sell the
tapes," she said.

     "I can't believe it," I said, "some of those things are
unimaginable.  I mean, a guy can only tolerate so much.  There comes a
point when . . ."

     "When we can no longer understand how they survive it, but they
do," she interrupted.

     "I still can't believe it," I said.

     "Well, this works out well.  Madame Diana sent me to give you a
tour of our facilities.  So far you have only seen the select ones we
used for your pet Danny, but it's time you got the overall picture.
You see, an operation like this can not operate just by supplying a few
subjects to a few customers; we need a variety of products for a larger
clientele," she said.

     "I can't believe that there is that large a clientele for this
sort of thing," I said, feeling a bit self-righteous.

     "Well, I don't know all the details of the business side of the
operation, Madame Diane handles that, but think of it this way:  how
many times have you yourself, before you came here, seen some guy doing
something you didn't like?  Maybe he was acting a bit superior, maybe a
bit drunk and loud, perhaps shouting things at you?"

     I admitted that this happened quite frequently in the big city,
but asked what could be done about it.

     "This is what can be done about it, this entire operation.  Every
woman who has ever had the desire to get even with some man is a
potential customer, and what she wanted to do to him is a potential
need we supply.  The only thing we need to do is let them know that it
is alright to get revenge or to have a little fun," Kathy said.

     "Is that what it's about, then, revenge and fun?"

     "Depends on how you look at it.  For example, many women like to
 dominate men, to control them, almost as an instinct, but do you call
 that revenge?  Fun?  Or just satisfying a need?  In any case, our
 clientele grows daily and we have over 50,000 satisfied customers,"
 she said with certainty.

     "Then how come I haven't heard about it?" I asked.

     "Come now," she said, "Haven't you seen stories about an incident
 here and an incident there.  You just thought of them as isolated
 fantasies when, if fact, there were real stories about real
 situations, mostly involving men we have trained.  On the whole,
 however, our clients prefer to keep this part of their lives to
 themselves and their friends."

     "I still find it hard to believe."

     "Then follow me," she said, as she walked out the door.


                             CHAPTER TWELVE

                           THE TOUR, PART ONE

     "So what would you like to see?  You've already seen the combat,
the dancing, the exercise, the horse training, and the penis pull --
but that was just a demonstration, would you like to see the contest?"
Kathy asked.

     I said that I was ready, as a reporter, to see anything if it
would contribute to the story, but asked what other things there were
to see.

     "Well, let's see, there's the athletic contests, the seminar room,
the art room, the laboratory, other animal training facilities, the
punishment palace . . . I think you'd like to see some other animal
acts, perhaps?"

     "What about other strippers?" I asked.

     "Oh yes," Kathy said, "that's one of our more popular shows, but
it's all pretty much the same idea.  They have to please through
exhibition.  Anyway, those are in the evenings.  Right now, we've got a
new subject for dog training.  Game?"

     I said I was and we were off to the animal facilities center which
was located on the edge of the complex.  I noticed a ring like those in
a circus in the center.  Kathy told me that this was where the training
went on.

     "You're in luck," she said, "because today we try a new technique.
This will be the first time we've tried to tame one without preliminary
conditioning.  He's both an experiment and a control subject.  It's
bound to be particularly cruel," she finished with a giggle.

     In the center of the ring was a woman, but not like Madame Diane.
  This one was attractive, but she looked more like she came from a
  street gang.  "Actually," Kathy said, "she was one of the girls on a
  motorcycle gang and she was used pretty bad.
  Now she wants to get even.  She fought ten girls to get this job."

     I looked at her.  "Oh, yes.  Most of our employees first rented
tapes, then attended contests and shows, and then asked to work for us.
They are all very dedicated workers.  Shh!"

     A door opened and a man stood there.  He was good looking, in his
twenties, but the most interesting thing is how he was dressed.  He was
wearing a coat and tie, dress shoes, the works.  He looked like the
junior partner in a law firm.  I was told that he was captured only a
few hours ago to be trained for a woman who wanted a pet dog.

     "He's lucky," she said, "in that she wanted a Doberman.  He wont
have to be fitted with a tail.  We will have to work on his ears,
though, if he works out.

     I started to ask about this, but the girl, Alice, called Alley,
began.  "Come here, dog."

     The man started to ask where he was, but Alley stopped him.  "Take
off your clothes!" she shouted, and cracked a whip.  This whip was not
like the one used on Danny.  That one would give pain, but was designed
not to cut the skin.  This one was longer, made out of leather, and
branched out into three smaller and sharper whips near the end.  The
man threw up his arms and the sleeve was ripped off.  "Kim!" shouted
Alley.

     An Oriental girl entered, wearing what looked like a kinomo, but
which had the sides slit up to her waist.  She looked at the man, bowed
to Alley, and went to him.  She kicked him in the groin without
warning, he doubled over, she kneed him in the face, then chopped him
to the throat, he fell, she kicked him again and again, and left as
Alley cracked the whip.

     "Take your clothes off," she repeated.  He took off his jacket,
tie, and shirt, and then hesitated.  Alley whistled the whip and he
finished, down to his colored underwear.  He was flabby compared to
Danny and the others I'd seen here, but then he'd only been here for a
few hours and wasn't bad compared to others I'd seen at the pool.

     "Hands and knees," and the whip hit him.  He got down on his
knees.

     "You are a dog, bark" she said.

     He didn't, and was whipped again.  "I see he needs some
discipline," Alley said, and began to whip some more.

     This went on for about twenty minutes and the man was bleeding and
miserable but also yelling and screaming.  "Obviously, it works better
by stages," said Kathy.  "If Alley couldn't do it, nobody could.
Still, Alley will be in charge of this one throughout his training, and
today will take the place of the apartment in his rehabilitation.  We
will check on him later."
     As we left the training room, I felt a bit depressed.  Somehow the
clinical attitude bothered me.


                            CHAPTER FOURTEEN

                                THE TOUR
                                PART TWO

     There was a knock at my door and a handsome young man was standing
there, wearing nothing but a black posing suit and a bow tie.  "Madame
Diana requests the pleasure of your company," he said.

     "Suppose I don't want to go?" I asked.

     He fell to his knees and began to beg me.  "Please, if you don't
come, I'll be sent to punishment or the laboratory, please, I'll do
anything you want."

     I believed him.  "O.K.," I said, "lead away."

     Madame Diana said, "It's time you saw our seminar room.  It's
where we teach our new employees."

     I followed her without a word to an amphitheater type room, the
kind you see in movies about med school.  "The professor is an ex-
anatomy teacher at a large midwestern medical school.  She quit when
she suspected that the men were discriminating against her.  Remember
the injections we gave Danny?  Well, she invented them.  She is working
on NO-COME 2, a combination local anesthetic and stimulant, but
listen."

     A well-built woman in a doctor's jacket entered the room and wrote
her name on the board.  Dr. Judith Silverstein.  On the table in front
of her was a man, tied to the bench, with a gag taped in his mouth.  He
was obviously nervous and frightened, but there was nothing he could
do.

     I told Madame Diane that this seemed unfair.  "He has failed in
two consecutive tests.  He gave up in combat after only twenty minutes
of punishment and failed to finish the penis run.  This is his
punishment and our way of improving his attitude ."  She spoke with
such conviction that I didn't say anything else.  Besides, the
professor began to lecture.

     "A man is quite a different creature than a woman.  He is inferior
except in muscle strength in the upper body and, of course, he has
exposed genitalia, which makes our task somewhat easier.  Notice the
muscles."

     She then proceeded to name the major muscles, while isolating them
with her hands.  At times, I thought she was about to pull one
completely out of the skin.  The man clenched his teeth, sweated,
groaned, whimpered, and howled once as she pulled on his abdominals.

     "Of course, the gag helps, but the noise is still too much," she
said.  "This will quiet him," she said, and poured a liquid into his
mouth which he gaged on and tried to spit out.  "This will paralyze his
vocal chords so he can scream, but not be heard.  Now on with today's
lecture, THE EFFECT OF TACTILE INPUT ON PENILE ACTIVITY."

     She pulled the towel that covered his loins and revealed that he
was covered only by a thin strip of cloth, a g-string or posing strap.
He tried to gasp, but we could only hear air passing down his throat.
She then began an elaborate series of experiments designed to determine
which parts of the male body could best be touched to produce an
erection and which would bring it back down.  A slow movement across
the abdominals, for example, brought his penis to attention, and a
sharp squeeze of the balls brought it down.  All this time the man
looked from girl to girl in hope of a savior, but saw only grins and
smirks, or frowns.

     "Now to test my newest compound, NO-COME 2.  It may have side
 effects, but the idea is to expand the penis to its largest potential
 and activity, but to deaden sensation enough so that it will stay
 erect indefinitely.  So far, the record has been one hour, but I think
 we can do better than that here."  With that, she brought out a
 hypodermic and inserted the needle in his scrotum.  He tried to scream
 and, from the agony on his face, it seemed like the most blood
 curdling scream I had ever heard, but no sound came out.

     "Beautiful," she said, as she looked at his penis rise.  "Shit!
How can I examine him with this in the way?" she shouted as she ripped
the g-string from him.  The girls gasped as they saw his penis exposed.
The balls were bluish and the penis throbbed toward the ceiling.  The
professor called for a student to come forward, and there were many
hands up, but she called one from the front row.

     "See if you can make him come," she said, and the girl proceeded
with professional expertise.  I learned that all students first learned
how to masturbate men before they were allowed into this class.  After
about fifteen minutes, she gave up.

     "The most amazing thing about this is that he," she said, sticking
a needle into his pectorals, "didn't feel or enjoy a thing, but he is a
whimpering mess with his whole consciousness on his penis."  And it was
true.  As she poked and jabbed at various parts of his body, he only
thrust his hips upward.  There was none of the crying out that we heard
at the beginning.

     About ten hours later, we returned to the classroom, and he was
still there and IT was still at attention, but he seemed to have lost
about fifteen pounds.  Every muscle stood out and strained.  "Are you
ready to fight again?" she asked him.

     "Yes, please," he said, glad that he could once again speak.

     "And complete the penis pull?"

     "Yes, please, relieve me," he said.

     "Very well," she said, "but first let's get some use out of him."
 She signaled to the girls who lined up.  Each one climbed on top of
 him and brought herself to climax, and still it stood, reaching up as
 if toward the ceiling.  All of a sudden, the clinical atmosphere
 didn't bother me anymore.  I was ready myself to join the fun, but the
 professor decided that it was time to test the antidote.  She inserted
 another hypodermic into his groin.  Soon, untouched, he began to
 squirt all over himself, and I left for my room, hoping I'd find the
 guy who knocked on my door.


                            CHAPTER FIFTEEN

                             MY OWN SERVANT

     When I got to my room, I was still thinking about the seminar as I
looked for the guy who knocked on my door.  I was frustrated to see
that he wasn't there and too caught up to realize that it had been
twenty hours since I left the room.   I looked around and saw the
button over my bed.  I had wondered what it was for, but never gave it
much thought.  This time I pushed it.

     There was a knock on my door within thirty seconds.  I opened the
door, and there he was, complete with the ingenuous briefs that covered
the front but not the back and a bow-tie.

     "Yes ma'am," he said.

     I motioned for him to enter the room and locked the door behind
us.  "You are here to serve me?"

     "I aim to please," he said.

     "Anything?"

     "Anything," he said evenly.

     "On your knees, then," I said, and he knelt on the floor in front
of me. "And straighten up that back," I added.

     He knelt, back straight, at attention, eyes forward.  I walked or
 paced around the room wondering what to do next.  Here he was, a fine
 physical specimen, at my complete command, and I wasn't sure what to
 do next.  At the same time, I felt a bit of guilt as he knelt so
 submissively before me.

     "Do you feel exposed, wearing only those tiny briefs?" I asked.

     "No ma'am, not if it pleases you," he answered.

     This was a bit frustrating, I thought.  Part of the fun is having
them feel naked or exposed.  There is some pleasure at their
embarrassment, but this one felt none.  I tried another approach.

     "Would you ever have felt exposed, dressed like this, in front of
a strange woman who had complete control over you?"  I asked.

     "Yes ma'am," he said, "in fact, my first time was quite horrible."

     "Tell me about it," I ordered, and this was his story:

     It happened after the amateur body building contest.  I finished
third, mainly because, by bodybuilding standards, I was lean and wiry.
I was, however, quite happy as this was my first contest.  Sure, I had
practiced my posing in from of a mirror in the gym and my coach had
helped me, but it was quite a different thing to perform in front of a
large crowd wearing one of those suits.  My coach said I had done well,
however, and I felt good.

     I dressed and left through the back door, carrying my check for
 $750 and trophy.  All of a sudden, I was surrounded by about fifteen
 girls.  Well, I thought, this bodybuilding racket is pretty good --
 looks like I've got a fan club.  I was ready to sign autographs, even,
 when I felt a sharp thud at the rear of my skull, my knees bent, I
 dropped the trophy, and then blacked out.

     "Look!  I think he's coming around," I heard.  It was a female
voice, but at the time I couldn't say more than that.  My head was
splitting and throbbing at the same time.

     "Give him the shot," another voice said, and I felt a needle enter
my arm.  Slowly my head began to clear.  I tried to rub my eyes, but
found I couldn't.  My wrists were tied out and above my head.  I began
to focus and saw women's faces and the n began to recognize some of
them from earlier.

     "He's awake now," another said, as I suddenly realized my
 situation.  I was bound by my wrists and ankles, spreadeagled on my
 back on a mat.  I was completely naked except for a posing strap, the
 kind artists models sometimes wear, the kind that cover only the penis
 and balls.  I attempted to get up.

     "You're not going anywhere, dear boy," said the one in charge as
the others kind of giggled.

     "Look at his stomach muscles" said another.

     "That's nothing, wait 'till we get him going" said Alice, the one
in charge.  With that, she began to move a long sharp needle up the
insides of my legs and I recoiled.

     "Wow," said another, "I've got a bunch of things I want to do to
him!"  I began to be fully alert and the adrenaline was pumping through
my veins as well as whatever they shot me up with.  Fear or panic,
combined with helplessness were overcoming me, but I tried not to show
it.

     "Look how brave he is," one said.

     "We'll see how long that lasts," said Alice as she came to me with
another needle, this time jabbing ever so lightly and sharply from my
legs, to my stomach, to by chest.

     "Look at those pectorals and abdominals move," she said, over and
 over, for fully ten minutes.  At first, it did not hurt, but by five
 minutes, each jab was a severe shock, by ten minutes it was agony and
 I began to scream out in response to each jab.  My breathing became
 more and more rapid, my pulse was racing, and every part of my skin
 seemed to be on fire.

     "Not so brave now, eh honey?"  she said.  "I see some tears in
your eyes."

     "W,W, Why?" I finally stuttered.

     "Dear boy.  You need to know what men have been doing to women for
years.  You need to know the pain, humiliation, the sense of
subjugation -- and we've just begun.  By the time we finish, you will
beg us to do anything to you."  With that, she turned to the other
girls.

     "Now we connect the electric shocks to him and play a high stakes
game.  The winner takes off his strap and continues the torture."

     They hooked up wires to my skin and sat down to play a game of
 poker.  Every five minutes, I received a shock to another part of my
 anatomy.  The game lasted for hours it seemed before one of them won.
 By that time, I couldn't tell one from the other.  She approached me
 and pulled the strap off, first down slowly, and then ripped it off.
 "How do I turn him over?" she asked, and soon I was on my stomach.
 She reached into her purse and pulled a long, fairly thick, plastic
 vibrator from it and began to put Vaseline on it.  Then "see how it
 feels, bastard!" and she began to ram it up my rear with it vibrating.
 I began to scream and she became impassioned "Hurts doesn't it, male
 bitch, see how it feels, let my twist it too." And she did.

     "Turn him over again," Alice yelled.  As it happened, she grabbed
my penis and began to massage it.  Then faster and faster.  The
electric shocks came all at once and Alice pulled as if she wanted to
dismember me "Will it come off lover boy?" she snarled. She pulled more
and I became hard against my weakened will.  I resisted and became as
hard as I had ever been.

     "STOP EVERYTHING NOW!" I heard and turned to see one of the most
self-confident and beautiful women I had ever seen, and everything
stopped.  "This is where I take over."  Apparently she was the real
leader, and she came up to me.  "Poor boy, have they been hurting you?"
She turned to the other women "You've got him good and hard, this will
keep it that way," and she clamped a strap around my penis and balls.
Then everyone sat down.

      Carol, the new leader, then told one to get refreshments and the
girls sat and talked.  After about fifteen minutes, I could hardly
stand the agony of lying there with my balls getting harder and harder.
Then Carol began to talk:  "You've all done well, but I know men and
this one has not yet been fully humiliated.  He is only hurt,
frightened, and looking to escape.  Soon he will do anything to relieve
the pain building up in his groin.  Then we will see."  Meanwhile, more
of the girls I had seen the night before became to come into the room.
Soon I had an audience of over 50.

     Carol came up to me and said "I bet it hurts, doesn't it?  What
will you do for me?"

     "Let me go," I managed to say.

     "Naughty boy, answer questions when you're asked" she said and
connected the wires to my penis and turned the switch on.  I screamed
so loud I had to stop and began to cough.

     "Looks at his muscles ripple," one said and the others began to
applaud.

     "Tie the leash to him," Carol said.  "Cut him loose,"

      "Now follow me like a good boy, and do what I say, and you won't
 be harmed.  If you behave badly, this will happen," she said as one
 girl stuck me in the rear with a cattle prod.  The pain was terrific,
 but it didn't bother me as much as it would have.

      It was about then that I got a strange idea.  I though if only I
could relieve this agony in my balls, the whole thing would be over.
That's what it's all about anyway, I felt.  I began to reach down and
actually touched my penis when Carol shouted "Naughty Boy!  Tie his
arms behind him."  And it was done.

     At this point I was aware only of my groin and the women screaming
around me, but I didn't even care much about them.  I tried to relieve
my self by rubbing my penis against a chair, and on of the women hit me
there with the cattle prod.  The pain was enormous, but no relief came.
I fell to the floor hoping to do it that way, but I was flipped on my
back.  First Carol pulled down her pants and straddled me, moving up
and down rapidly until she reached a climax, but the restraints on my
ball s kept me erect and wanting to continue.  One by one, fifty of
them either straddled and sat on me or sucked like mad, but still I
couldn't come, although I did my best.  "Look at that courage -- a man
with a hard on will do anything," one said.

     "By this time, I was given a sedative and brought here.  I've been
through the training program and feel nothing but the desire to please
women," he concluded.

     This was quite a story by itself, and I was getting hot listening
to his rendition of it.  "On your back on the bed," I commanded.

     He complied, and I tied him, wrists and ankles, to the posts which
were already equipped for such things.  I then opened the closet and
found some short whips and began to lash him on the legs and chest.  I
could see that he was beginning to feel the pain and his desire to
please fought with his pain.  I whipped like a woman in a frenzy and he
writhed back and forth.  I then found a ring.  I pulled off his briefs
and exposed his penis.  It was flaccid, shrinking from me.  I pulled on
one ball which was trying to escape into him and pulled it through the
ring.  Then came the other.  The ring seemed full, but I managed to
work his penis through it as well, much to his discomfort.  I then
massaged it and saw it rising against his will.  Finally, it was fully
erect.  I could see the pain in his scrotum on his face and tears in
his eyes, but I only became more aroused.

     I grabbed a towel and wet it with cold water.  I splashed him with
cold water and then whipped him with the towel.  Then I pulled out the
whip again and lashed him, holding it like a batter in baseball.

     Then I got the idea to reenact part of his story.  I found a dildo
in the closet, oh marvelous closet, greased it up, and pushed it into
his ass.  Oh how I pushed and twisted it!  And how he writhed in pain!
It was lovely, the height of life and ecstasy!  Thus muscular man in
such pain, under my control, surely I was making my mark on his life,
perhaps penetrating deep parts of his subconscious fears.  I renewed my
efforts and began to chew on his penis at the same time.  The chewing
turned into biting and he let out tremendous screams.  I was in heaven!

     I climbed on his cock and began to pump up and down, up and down,
up and down and around, over and over again, until I came.  I then
loosened his bonds, ordered him out the door, locked it again, and
slept the deepest sleep I had for years.


                            CHAPTER SIXTEEN

                          A BIT OF PERSPECTIVE

     This last episode changed my way of thinking in many ways.  First
of all, the fact that I slept so well proved to me that I had no
regrets over the incident.   In fact, it seemed the natural order of
things and that I was content for the first time since I was a little
girl in grade school.

     I later did some research on the subject, and found that the first
 organized societies were matriarchal, that the women controlled the
 society.   Their mistake was in electing one man of the tribe to be
 king for a year.  This "king" was literally worshipped as a god for
 the one year and then sacrificed in a ritual and then replaced by
 another.

     Eventually, the one "king" managed to extend the time of his rule
until the women lost control of the society.  Madame Diane was not
aware of this historical background, but she was on the right track:
"This time, the women will maintain control over a large number of men
who will be our slaves.  In addition, the weak or ugly will be
liquidated so as to keep the population standards up and to reduce the
number.  This will prevent them from ever taking control again.
Finally, we will maintain tight control over them at all stages.  Only
under these conditions can woman be happy in her rightful place as
ruler."

     Diane looked at me.  "It's been a while since you've seen Danny.
Why don't we go by the gym on our way to the contests?" she asked,
smiling with her lips drawn tight.

     I agreed, never even asking what kind of contests she had in mind.
I knew that they would be something to watch!


                           CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

                             SOME CONTESTS

     We went past the gym and I stood at my favorite spot, behind the
one-way mirror, and watched Danny as he was put through his workout.
His trainer worked him hard, sometimes making him lift heavy weights
for a few times, and sometimes not-so-heavy weights many times.  "If
you're interested, I'll have her explain our system to you," Madame
Diane said.

     I continued to watch.  Somehow Danny looked different to me, and
it wasn't his appearance, it was in the way I looked at him.  He no
longer evoked pity or sympathy, but was something to use.  I was
beginning to look forward to the party in a different way as well.

     "Ready to go?  We'll have to drive a bit," she said.

     "What do you think?" I said, and we left.

     We drove for about fifteen minutes to a large stadium behind the
building complex.  "Here we have all the major contests -- hockey,
baseball, soccer, etc.  Which would you like to see?" she asked.

     I started to answer, but she interrupted me.  "Well forget it.,"
she said.

     "We started to have those games, and it was good, in a way.  For
example, baseball.  The guys really looked cute in their outfits.  All
primary colors.  The blue team had these briefs colored solid blue.  We
couldn't make the front too brief because we needed cups, but we were
able to expose their asses using creative fabric cutting and elastic.
They had these cute caps and shoes, all matching the briefs, and white
socks.  The trouble was that the catcher had to be protected and the
quality of the play wasn't very good.  It was fun watching them
struggle to look good and make mistakes, but it was simply cute, no
tension.  Hockey, the same thing, the goalie.  Soccer was better, but
still the quality wasn't there.  One of the main problems, as I saw it,
was that these were team sports, encouraged the males to establish
bonds with one another, and even generated a few leaders, even though
the coaches and umpires were all women.  Now, the sports we have appeal
to women, not men."

     I was all for this, I said, and wondered what sort of sports she
had designed.  "You've already seen three of the most popular, the
wrestling matches, the races, and the penis pull.  These are some of
the others," she said as we sat down.

     Two men were led out onto the field by their trainers.  One wore
blue thongs and the other yellow (thongs, I found out, was the name for
the briefs with very little buttock coverage).  They were made to stand
in front of two metallic circles on
the ground.

     "Those are electric shockers," Diana said.  "They start out at 120
volts and, with each push-up, they are reduced one volt.  If the
competitor does not do at least sixty push-ups, he is in for a real
stinging.  Even so, his trainer can increase the voltage at any time."

     And so the two men were commanded to begin.  Both were well-built,
but that was to be expected because of the training program.  The
first twenty push-ups were uneventful, but then the muscles began to
warm up.  Twenty more, and the strain began to show.  At sixty, it
became clear that each one was an effort.  The men first tried to cheat
by bending forward at the waist, leaving their asses delightfully
exposed.  Cameras flashed, but they were oblivious.  The trainers,
however, stepped on them with their heels.  Next they locked their legs
and their buttocks tensed.  Their arms and shoulders grew to massive
proportions.  The women watching grew excited and shouted encouragement
to their favorite, on whom some had placed substantial bets.  Finally,
both collapsed, one a split second before the other.  Both   received a
massive jolt of power to their cocks and rolled over.

     The one in blue won, so he would be rewarded.  His trainer came up
to him, pulled down his briefs, and masturbated him in front of the
crowd.  He was then led off the field.

     The one in yellow lost, so he would be punished, both to teach him
to try harder and to appease the women who had bet on him.   "The
hammock, hammock, hammock," the women were shouting.

     The man was taken to four stakes in the ground, about four feet
 high.  He was chained hand and foot to each stake so the he was facing
 the ground, making a human hammock.  Alley cam with her whip and began
 to swing in time to the chants.  The man screamed out at each one, the
 pain was so intense.  After few minutes, he was visibly weeping.

     "There, there, did it hurt?" she asked.  "Well, try this," she
said, and stuffed a dildo into his ass.

     Then another approached and cut off his yellow briefs.  A machine
that looked like a milking machine was attached to his cock and balls.
"This is a creation of one of our engineers.  It strokes his penis
until it reached a certain point, and then squeezes his balls until he
becomes limp, and over and over again.  This could last hours," Diana
said.

     "When do you stop," I asked.

     "When he says the right thing," she said.

     "What is that?" I asked.

     "Depends on how we feel," she said.

     I watched as the machine began to work.  I could see the
expression on the man's face as he awake to desire and then blanched in
pain.  Over and over.

     "Help, please stop it," he cried, but they just sat there, rubbing
themselves between their legs.  This continued for three hours and some
of the women obviously reached multiple climaxes.

     "Please, anything else, anything," he cried.

     Still, Madame Diana watched.  His already tensed and spent muscles
renewed themselves as he twisted and turned, struggling against the
machine and his chains.  Alley started with the whip again.  The man
was crying and begging, but still the torment continued.  "Mommy," he
cried, and Madame gave a signal.

     The machine stopped and so did Alley.  He was released and fell to
his face.  He doubled up.  "On your back, baby," Alley said, and the
man turned over.  Alley licked him between the legs and he was carried
off the field and put into a cage.

     "This one will perform well as a servant," Diana said, and looked
to the far end of the field.

     Two glass cages were rolled out onto the center.  They were filled
with water and had a bar across the top.

     "This is the endurance test to see which can stay under the
longest.  Our record so far is a minute and a half, although we could
no better with warmer water," Diana said.

     The two men, this time wearing blue and red posing straps, were
lowered into the water and the timer began.  After about forty seconds,
I could see the agony the experienced trying to stay under.  The had
seen the previous punishment and knew that theirs would be worse so the
pushed themselves down using the bar and kicked and writhed, bent and
turned, in the most provocative and erotic movements I had ever seen,
just to keep under.  Both struggled with courage and I found myself
wishing I could see their struggles in slow motion.  Finally, after two
minutes and ten seconds, both came up for air, and the contest was
declared a draw.  Both men breathed heavily to recapture the oxygen
they had lost during their ordeal, both unaware of their near nudity.
I wondered what Madame Diana would do to resolve the draw.

     Her solution was particularly sadistic and delightful.  "We will
see how well the male animal uses his strength to preserve his
manhood," she said.

     She ordered leather ropes, one end tied around their cocks, and
 the other looped around portable pulley machines that were wheeled out
 to the field.  "You will be raised into the air by the ropes, but you
 will be allowed to hold to the ropes with
 your hands," she said.

     Up they went, fifteen feet into the air.  Holding on for dear
life.  If they let go, or even weakened, their weight would be borne by
their cock and balls.  Oh, how they held on while we shouted at them.
One of the girls, after fifteen minutes, got the idea of splashing them
with cold water.  A few more adventurous ones began to tickle them, but
still they held on.  You had to see it to believe how a well-built man
looks after he has been struggling for hours.  His muscles first become
larger and he begins to sweat.  Then they start to quiver and seem to
knot and he begins to chill, then the process repeats itself -- at
least it did today.  After a long while, one began to slip slowly.  He
tried to loop his hand around the rope, and Alley lashed him hard a few
times.  Still he clung tight.  Alley signaled the rope to be lowered
and she ripped off his red strap and signaled again and he was jerked
up again.  He continued to grip and tried to cross his legs to cover
himself.  Alley signaled again, and he was lowered again.  She took a
knife and cut his hands and up he went again.  Now he couldn't hold on
His hands slipped off the rope and clutched at his penis as he
screamed.  Then he lost control, screaming, hanging only from his cock.
Kicking and waving his arms which only made the agony more severe, he
wailed and cried.  He was let down at a signal and whimpered, curled
up.  He was carried away.

     The one in blue was let down and tied to a wall spreadeagled.  One
 of the girls ran up and pulled down his strap, but left the rope
 attached.  She put her mouth around his cock and sucked until he spent
 himself.  He was let down and led away by the rope.

     "Well, that was refreshing," said Madame Diana.  "What would you
like to do now?"

      "I'm not sure," I said, "but I feel a bit tired."

     "I know," she said.  "Sometimes I have to take a few days off and
visit the outside world to get new ideas and also to refresh myself.
Too much of this, and one begins to wonder if it's worth it.  Let's go
out for dinner."

     I agreed.  We drove back to the main building and I went to my
room and took a nap.  That evening, we went out on the town.  We
visited strip joints, night clubs, and walked by a brothel.  To see,
once again, how men treated women in our unnatural society made me feel
much better about what Madame Diane was doing.  I felt better about
what I was doing as well.  I guess the scene where a fat, ugly, man
whipped a girl with a coat hanger settled things in my mind.  I also
thought about the thousands of unwanted pregnancies and back-alley
abortions women had to undergo each year.  Yes, there was much work to
be done.

                            CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

                               THE PARTY

     Now I was determined not just to have a good party with my
friends, but to actually make a few converts.  I knew that I could do
this two ways:  first, the girls had to remember the times when men had
taken advantage of them, and second, they had to have a good time.  I
spent days making plans, and Madame Diana and Mistress Kathy helped
with several suggestions.  I think Kathy offered the most creative
events, but that Diana was able to think of the more diabolical twists
should we need them.  Danny would be the main attraction, but several
other would be held in reserve.

     The guests started to arrive about seven.  I had Danny dressed in
light blue shorts with split sides, blue slippers, a light blue cape,
bow tie, and, for effect, a kind of bunny tail sewn on the rear of his
shorts.  My guests were somewhat taken aback when he greeted them at
the door and took their coats, but we all sat down and began to talk in
the living room.  Most of the talk was about old times, what was going
on now, and what I was doing lately.  I took that to be my cue and
motioned for Danny to kneel down in the center of us.  I mentioned that
I was doing research on a book concerning proper male and female roles
and the conversation began to roll again.

     After a few drinks, however, one of the girls began to look more
closely at Danny.  "My, he is a hunk," she said, "does he lift
weights?"

     "He does indeed.  In fact, he is on a special program.  Remove
your cape, Danny," I said.  The reaction was quick.

     The girls responded with sounds of approval.  One said "does he
dance?"  I told them to wait and sent Danny to the bedroom.

     He appeared a few minutes later with the music in the background.
A few minutes into the dance, he removed his shorts to leave him in a
posing suit, also light blue, and the girls grabbed the shorts.  Danny
gyrated on the floor, exciting my friends even more.  Then he braced
his back with his hands, balanced on his back and elbows, and pointed
his legs toward the ceiling, making it easy for me to remove the posing
suit, leaving him with just a posing strap, also light blue, to toss to
one of the girls who was quieter than the others.  The music ended, but
my friends wanted more.

     "Show them your workout," I said, and made him do situps while one
of the girls sat on his ankles.  Next push-ups while another sat on his
shoulders.  She was getting wet between the legs, her eyes began to
roll back, and she shouted "faster, faster!"

     Then I make Danny give horse rides but interrupted after about
fifteen minutes.  "Wait, he is not yet a real horse," I said, and
removed his blue strap.  I wound the nylon rope around his cock and
balls, just like at the stadium, across his chest, and over his
shoulders.  Then the tail.  I greased it up and worked it into his
tight ass as he flinched and blushed.  I was about to whip him then,
but decided to let one of the girls ride him, and she did.

     "What next girls?" I asked above the noise.

     Most of them began to take their clothes off and one said "I want
that cock inside me," and the other agreed.

     "O.K., you'll all get your chance -- tie him down," I said.  I
watched as they swarmed over him, tying him hand and foot to the rings
set up one the floor for that purpose.  "Now sit back a bit, and I
promise you a real treat."

     I took the syringe out of my purse and filled it from a small
bottle.  It was the formula displayed in the seminar room.  Danny gave
a gasp of pain as I injected it into his shrinking member, and the
girls looked on in a bit of horror.  "Girls, he's here for our
pleasure, not his.  let us sit back and watch."

     We sat on the floor around him and watched his penis grow to
fullness.  We turned down the lights a bit and began to look on in
reverence.  One moved toward him and began to stroke him.  He moved
his hips upward, seeking relief, but none would come for hours.
Another put her mouth over it and nibbled.  He began to breath heavily
and give out sharp quick moans with each bite.  Another moved toward
him and began to pull the few hairs remaining on his balls.  Finally
one pulled down her panties and sat on him, moving up and down.  She
rode him for ten minutes.  moaning with delight with each orgasm.  The
other lined up as they saw his penis still stand erect.  "What a
wonderful drug!" another shouted, and she climbed aboard.  All fifteen
of us rode him for hours.  About thirty minutes into the torture,
Danny's muscles began to shiver and tremble, but this just made us
hornier.  We were on every part of his body, into his ass, on his
prick, no restraint but just using him as much as we could.  It was a
wonderful gang bang release of pent up frustration and orgiastic
delight!

     When we were all spent, we rested, just watching Danny's muscles
 quiver and his penis pulsate.  One of the girls videotaped the entire
 session.  It was quiet, just the sounds of an occasional ice-cube
 clinking against a glass and a match lighting a cigarette interrupted
 the sound of Danny breathing and trembling.  The muscles on his body
 stood out more and more sharply as the night passed.  Then we each had
 one more slow and voluptuous turn at him, this time in no hurry, but
 savoring the sacred penis within us.


                               CONCLUSION

     There was a great deal more to describe, but further details are
unnecessary here.  They will be described in future appendixes,
however.  What is important here is that my party produced fifteen
converts.  Each of those will go on to produce more converts.  Although
Madame Diana's ranch is the most prominent, others are developing to
supply an ever-increasing demand, some of them appealing to the more
refined, soft-core tastes, and some even more cruel and debased than
hers.

     These centers are springing up throughout Latin America and
Europe, as well as Africa.  I have even heard of one in Finland
specializing in winter sports.

     Every day, healthy men disappear off the streets, but now we know
where they are going.  Special squads have developed whose only job is
to abduct candidates for training.

     This is all as it should be.  Men have ruled women for centuries,
enslaving them and debasing them, often leaving them to starve.  Our
men are well-fed if they perform well and have a home for as long as
they maintain their stamina.

     This is the wave of the future, a return to the natural order of
things.  I am much happier now, and so are the women who are joining me
in larger numbers each day.  If any men are reading this, I urge you to
volunteer for service for volunteers are allowed special privileges not
accorded to captives, and eventually, we will get you.  Who knows, you
may be under observation right now!

K.K.
--

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