The first time I was assigned to report to Lady Cassandra’s studio-dungeon, I was
immediately ordered to take my clothes off. Afterward, the lady announced she planned to
include a prolonged period of female-generated, cock and ball torture on me, just for her
own amusement. Further, this practice was to be a regular feature during each of my
subsequent sessions with Lady Cassandra. What an unpleasant surprise that was!
The dominant lady referred to the FEMDOM practice as “CBT”, and she showed me a brief
film demonstrating the concept. On a television monitor, I saw various restrained men
being rigorously tortured by a series of giddy, dominant, female antagonists. Mainly, I
saw the men’s penises and testicles were being skillfully abused. Thus, the women, in
each case, were putting their male subjects through various types of tormenting pain and
humiliation.
For instance, on the screen, I saw a young man suspended naked in an inverted position,
while a very determined, laughing female stood behind him and kept flailing at his ass and
his crotch. The whip she used had several suede thongs attached to it, and caused an
unsettling loud sound each time she struck him. I noticed the female laughed and made
repeated derogatory comments throughout his ongoing torment.
One of the tormenting women showed the specially made whip she used to thrash her male
subject severely on their buttocks. The lady explained the thongs were made of discarded
brassiere straps, each tipped with small, melted-down pieces of metal from clasps on her
old high-heeled shoes. She insisted the components of her whip gave it a definite female
ambiance for her male subjects to absorb.
This startling revelation was the cause of my first disagreement with Lady Cassandra. I
balked rather strenuously at having my testicles and my penis treated in such a manner. I
didn’t care how lovely she might be, or how guilty I was of my past crimes.
“Don’t be silly,” Cassandra responded. “I have no intention of using a whip on you.
I’ll only use my soft, gentle hands! Surely, a mature male like you could survive such an
exercise from me.”
But I adamantly refused. Thus, I immediately found myself being incarcerated in an
isolation cell in Cassandra’s studio-dungeon. It would have been foolish to resist being
locked up, because the dominant lady had a buzzing cattle prod in her hand and I knew she
would not hesitate to use it on my naked body, if necessary. I was certain she would have
shocked me with the prod, knocking me right on my ass, and she would have laughed about
it. That was how I evaluated the lady’s personality. She was a sadistic, dominant female
toward all men. There was no doubt.
Before locking the steel door to my cell, Cassandra Foxx chose to tell me, “I think you
need a bit of time to reflect on your personal situation, Denny Dimwit.”
Yes. That’s what she called me, Denny Dimwit. I couldn’t believe it. Cassandra knew my
name was really Dennis DeWitt. I think she was just trying to irritate my wilting,
professional composure.
What had I gotten myself into?
“I could subdue you quite easily, you know,” Cassandra continued, “but I want you to
learn to comply with specific orders and the written agreement you signed, without any
unpleasantness. Also, I do not want you to be disagreeable. I will not tolerate such
foolishness for very long. So, you had better think about your circumstances very
carefully. You are in a no-win situation, Dimwit, and I am the best friend you have at
this moment.”
“But my penis, my testicles,” I complained, “Why do you want to hold them in your hands?
I’ve never had such an experience before, unless the lady was interested in having sex
with me.”
“I want you to think of CBT as a form of sex,” Cassandra smiled. “It will bring us much
closer together, and you’ll soon learn I am your true superior in every way. You must
comply with my whims and wishes. Only then can we proceed with your training.”
With that said, the lady closed the heavy, steel door to my isolation cell, and I was
alone in complete silence. There was a dim light coming from above, which showed me the
outline of a simple cot in the corner. The cell was small; about eight by six feet, with
a ceiling height of nine feet, I estimated.
There were no windows in the cell. It seemed like a perfect place for quiet meditation,
just as Cassandra had prescribed. Therefore, I sat down on the cot to consider my
situation, and especially what the lady had told me. I wrapped a single thin blanket
around my nakedness and waited in the gloomy darkness. What a dramatic change from the
plush life I had been used to as a courtroom attorney.
It must have been an hour, before a small vent was opened at eye level in my cell door.
Cassandra Foxx was there to ask, “Are you ready to comply with my whims and wishes, Denny
Dimwit?”
I dismissed the repeated intentional mispronouncing of my name, and replied, “What
exactly do you intend to do with my penis and testicles? I want it spelled out, so that
there is no misunderstanding!”
“You sound just like a person steeped in legalities, but obviously you don’t understand
much of anything, Dimwit,” Cassandra replied. “I’m not here to explain anything to you.
You will put yourself in my hands and do whatever I tell you to. That’s what you agreed
to.”
“But I...” I tried to interject.
However, the lovely Cassandra Foxx was having none of it. She offered, “I will hear no
more! This discussion is terminated.”
The vent in the cell door was slammed shut. I was alone once more.
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