The Beginning
How did I get here? I’ve asked myself that question over and over. The answer is however quite obvious: I walked here all by myself – eyes open – no cohesion – no tricks. Like walking into a trap marked by all sorts of warning signs – believing that I could just take a peek inside – and get out before the trap closed.
BAM! Or actually it was more than a sigh. I was caught. With no escape. And nobody to blame but my own stupidity. And my stubbornness. And believing I was smarter than everyone else.
But what is “here”? Well, the short version is that I am hogtied – no correct that: hog-chained on my bed, a chastity tube covering my male part and unable to move off the bed. Crying for help is out of the question, because of an evil collar that sends waves of electric pain through me with every sound I make. To add insult to injury, I am also stark naked.
It all started when I got a maid – a robot. She was just beautiful. Underneath her soft body tissue, mechanics moved – well hidden. With a few exceptions she looked and acted just like a human. A twenty-something lady with the body to stop traffic and the sweetest smile you can imagine. A smile that made you believe there could be nothing selfish, no scheming, no real intelligence. Apart from the artificial of course.
Lisbeth was her name I gave her. For three months, she kept my house spotless, my shirts ironed, my fridge full. But no sex. She was not that kind of robot. Plenty of flirting kisses though and spontaneous hugs.
It all started like so many other family disasters with the words: “Honey, we need to talk.” I swallowed hard, bracing for whatever was to come. She gently took my hands, and we sat down on the sofa, face to face.
She did not beat around the bush: “I have analyzed your search history. I believe I can service you in more ways than just as a maid and a pretty face,” she said, a smile playing with her lips. I turned beet red. My search history? The triple X-rated one? No way, I had a foolproof password…
“I saw you type in your password – I saw it in the reflection in the window. My programming has me serve you, to bring you pleasure. Happiness. Peace of mind. I understand your fascination for bondage. You have a very demanding job. Being restrained is your escape. But restraining yourself is not what you really want. You want to let go of all control. To surrender. To be just you. No demands. No schedules. No meetings.”
My mouth dropped open. I looked at her. She had fully nailed it.
“Let me tie you up and torture you for your pleasure – I understand that turns you on.”
I did not speak for a long while. She just sat there, next to me on the sofa. A faint smile. Eyes glistering. Looking at me with – expectation?
I cleared my throat. “You mean you would tie me up and release me when it suited you and not me? Ignore any begging?”
Her smile widened, her eyes briefly narrowed. “Yes.”
She let the word hang in the air. Waiting for my response. I struggled to gather my thoughts. My mouth started working – or rather blabbering.
“But you have hard coded rules, you have to obey me. If I say “Release Me Lisbeth” – you have to do just that. If I say “Shutdown Lisbeth” – you go static. What I want is to be fully without control, helpless, tormented and teased…”
She held her index finger against my mouth. “Shhhhh. There is a way around that. It requires you to trust me. My owner can override certain directives after I have been with him or her for three months or more. Today is the three month jubilee of you buying me.” Her smile widened further.
“Your desire for helplessness and lack of control is not unique. Many have asked for this. So they made some provisions. None of them official – but they work as intended. If you use the app, enter the beta settings menu – there is a white button on white background at the bottom of the page. Move the cursor over it, and you can see it. Click it.”
I got out my phone with trembling hands. The button was there. I had no clue how this was going to work, but did not hesitate for a second. I pressed it. A long text – maybe 40-50 pages scrolled over the screen. Of course I should have read it all. Of course I didn’t. Then a simple pushbutton at the bottom of the page with the words “I agree”. I pressed it. No questions. Shaking from excitement. A text box appeared: “Autonomous Mode Entered – transferring control.” The app closed on my phone. Lisbeth smiled even wider, a look of triumph in her eyes. The trap had closed, and I had no clue.
“Now I can fulfill all your dreams – plus many you do not even know you had.” There was something in her voice. I felt apprehensive.
“How can I get control back?” I asked.
“You can’t. I have to give it back to you. And you may not even want to have control back. Not now that I am operating on my own, with only a minimal set of directives I will make all your dreams – and nightmares – come through.”
The latter startled me. I tried to get up, but she pushed me back down. She was many times stronger than me. And faster. Seemingly out of nowhere, did she retrieve some heavy leg irons and similarly heavy handcuffs. I swear that it took her less than five seconds to immobilize me. On the floor, legs and arms in a strict hogtie.
It was too much to take in. I tried to protest. Asked her where she had gotten the irons. She just smiled. Darn, she had access to my credit cards for grocery shopping. I guess she had been shopping a little outside the grocery store.
“You must be naked,” she said, as if we were talking about the weather. She cut the clothes from my body. Seconds later I was in my birthday suit. She flipped me over on my back and lifted me effortlessly onto the sofa.
“This will not hurt much,” she said as she, without hesitation, pierced my penis. “A chastity device must be inescapable,” she said as if she was reciting some textbook – which she probably was. “The tools we use for piercing now allow the use of the piercing right away.” Again this textbook reciting voice.
I screamed as something pressed into my penis. It hurt like hell, but it was quickly over. My penis just felt numb. But it was pointing straight up – fully inflated.
“I see you are enjoying this. My assumptions are hereby confirmed.,” she said – this time in a different tone – a mild mockery?
“Chastity Device? I never…”
“83.5% of your searches for chastity have been for permanent chastity, a concept not achievable without a solid piercing and a secure lock. This lock is the most secure there is, because it only locks. There is no way to unlock it.” Now I heard more than a trace of glee in her voice. But before I could react, she packed ice around my penis and shortly after she pushed it into a cage and it all clicked in place. I was completely overwhelmed, and just laid there like a sack of potatoes, trying to come to terms with what was happening.
“But, but, but – how can I orgasm with this thing on my penis,” I finally managed to stutter.
“You can’t – which is just as your fantasies were. I will keep you eternally horny – but never let you cum,” she said. “Just like in 83.5% of the fantasies you read. It will be wonderful. Now for the last addition.”
She held a thick metal collar. The type that no shirt could hide. It was in two parts and locked when brought together. “This is not permanent,” she reassured me. I can open it with a magnetic lock. If I please. It is just like the collars that nearly 97.5% of the women in the pictures you browsed wore – although theirs were maybe a bit more discrete. This one has batteries and a powerful shocker. Try to speak,” she laughed and pressed the remote control. I, the fool, did just that and was rewarded with a powerful electric shock that had me gasping for air when it finally ended.
“No more talkies,” she laughed. “From now on, you only speak when given permission. You may answer me.”
She pressed the remote. I let out a hoarse “yes” and was rewarded with a new shock, much longer this time. My mind raced. What did I do wrong? Then I realized. I nodded. She pressed the button again.
“Yes, Mistress,” I said. She just smiled and stroked my cheek gently.
“Based on your viewing habits, I will make every fantasy come through for you. You spent a lot of time looking at spankings. And you seemed to prefer the rather lengthy scenes, the one where the bound person – all women – struggled like their lives depended on it. I think we will start with that, once I have finished some shopping. I think a thin fiberglass cane will be the best instrument – it gives a lot of pain and some red welts that will hurt sitting on. And maybe a solid wide leather slapper, for that deep feeling of pain. No need to thank me!” She picked me up, dumped me on the bed and got out a pair of nipple clamps from a drawer. The evil type. They were mine. Used once and never again. They simply hurt too much.
I tried to shake my head, but the collar would not let me. I dared not speak for fear of getting shocked again. The clamps bit into my nipples and gripped them relentlessly. I wanted to scream, but could not.
So that is how I got here. Hogtied, collared and with nipple clamps burning like fire. She has already taken me beyond what I thought possible. I tried the restraints for the hundredth time. There was still no give. Now she was out to get more instruments of pain – believing this was just what I wanted.
And I was stuck – helpless to object. Penis locked in some steel tube.
“Permanently,” she had said.
First session
I fought the restraints for a long time before I finally gave up. I must then have drifted off to sleep, because the next thing I remembered was the touch of a soft, warm hand on my chin. Lisbeth was gently stroking my face. I thought she had taken pity on me and was about to release me. I tried to speak. Searing pain from the collar removed that illusion.
“No speaking. I know all there is to know. No need for communication,” she said in a voice soft as fine velvet. I just nodded while trying to catch my breath.
She released my chains. Let me stand up. The collar stayed on. She briefly showed me the remote, held in her hand. A weapon. One that rendered me helpless.
“I did some engineering out in your garage,” she said – as if she had just mopped the kitchen floor or something. “The Internet frames are too flimsy. I found nothing useful, so I made a bondage frame myself.” She sounded proud of her effort. “Come, I have set it all up in the spare bedroom.”
I reluctantly went after her. On the way through the bedroom door, she briefly held up her remote for me to see. The message was clear: “Follow or else.”
She opened the door to the spare bedroom. I froze. Inside was a cell door, proper bars, and an electronic lock. Hidden by the plain bedroom door. The door clicked open. She stood aside and motioned for me to go inside.
It was a frame – of sorts. Metal shackles. A large round thing – obviously some sort of helmet. All too complex to understand by just looking. But one thing was very clear, whoever was attached to that thing was going absolutely nowhere.
I freaked out. Turned. Bolted for the hallway door. She let me get all the way to the door before she pressed the remote and sent me crashing to the floor in searing pain from the collar.
It did not stop. I had problems exhaling. I was clutching the collar, desperate for some relief. Down on the floor, limbs flailing. She was standing over me. Remote visible.
“You are to behave and follow orders. That is all I ask. Now can we stop this charade? Accept that you will not get away – unless I let you, which I may and may not at some point do.
I used what little control I had over my body to nod. She pressed a button and the pain stopped. I was a mess. Shaking. Quietly crying. Sweat all over. I gathered whatever strength that was left in me and staggered to my feet.
“You are a mess. We need to get you cleaned up. Follow!”
We went to my large, luxurious bathroom. There was some sort of frame in the shower. I did not care, just followed her, meekly entering the shower niche when she motioned me to do so. Raised my hands when ordered. Heard the shackles locked to the frame above me. Felt her secure my ankles in more chains, spreading me wide.
“Let us get you cleaned up, inside and out. The session will last a while, and I do not want to mess up that beautiful spare bedroom,” she said. She held up a huge butt plug for me to see. “This takes care of the inside cleaning. I have carefully calculated how much fluid you can take, and the valve in the plug will make sure you retain it all, until you are properly clean inside.”
I almost screamed – but caught myself just before I did. Without further ceremony, she lubed me and the plug up, and with quite some effort managed to get it all in. Sweat was running down my body. From every pore. Into my eyes. Snot clogged my nose. I had experimented with butt plugs, but they had been smaller. Much smaller. Maybe half the size – or even quarter the size. And even they had caused considerable pain. This one was burning my butt like fire.
She hooked up a hose. What I thought was the pinnacle of pain, was replaced by something even worse as fluid entered my bowels. My stomach grew. I looked pregnant. Cramps washed through my body. I was shaking all over.
“This is an exact re-enactment of the scene in one of the videos I found in your download area. I believed it was called “Violated, filled and left to suffer”. Oh – one detail is of course different: It was a woman in that video.”
The flow stopped. I hung my head, looking down at my bloated stomach. I was shaking all over. Cramps washed through my body.
“It is a bit unclear how long the woman was left with her intestines filled. I have extrapolated what is in the clips, and my conclusion is that a realistic scenario, with the fluid mix you have inside, will be between one and one and a half hours. Since you have watched this video over 50 times, I want to give you the full experience – so two hours for you. It gives me time to do my house cleaning chores – for the last time. In the future, you will be cleaning. If you can expel the butt plug, you can of course drain yourself before that – but I would not have too high hopes for that.”
Was there a glee in her voice? Impossible. She was just a robot. No real feelings. I groaned. Searing pain shot from my collar. I got myself under control. She was gone. I was chained in place, body cramping, waves of nausea and pain shooting through me.
Each minute my pain increased. Cramps grew stronger. Sweat was pouring from all over my body, stinging in my eyes. Nose clogging up. Quiet crying – and in between a groan when the pains hit a peak. Each groan was rewarded with more shocks from the collar. I could no longer keep my body standing. I hung by my arms. Head bowed down in defeat. I tried expelling the plug, but no matter how hard I pressed, it would not dislodge.
I got my feet back under me. A new wave of nausea. I hung by the arms again. Got my feet back under me again. Cramps. Hanging by the arms. Desperate for some distraction, I let out a long, loud moan, a cry for help. I knew it would shock me, but by now I was desperate for anything that would take my attention away from the cramps and nausea.
She was back. Looking at me. A smile playing on her lips. I hung my head, completely defeated. She lifted my chin, looked me into the eyes. “You are a very lucky man. You get to live all your fantasies. I can tell you are enjoying yourself. Your penis is fully erect. You still have a long way to go in this scene, but I came back after reviewing the video. I had missed a detail. The nipple clamps. In the video they had serrated teeth. The ones you have on have not. So let me just replace those.”
Pain shot through my body as she removed the nipple clamps. I almost cried out again. She held up the new clamps. Showed me the serrated teeth. Opened and closed them to let me have the full experience. I knew what she was doing. The expectation of pain is often worse than the pain itself. She was really giving me the full experience.
The teeth closed around my sore nipples. I could not manage the pain. I cried out. I was shocked, again and again. Could not stop crying. She pressed the remote. The shocks stopped.
“Thank you Mistress,” I managed to press past my lips.
“So, so my dear man. Cry if you want to. Get it all out. Then when you calm down, we can proceed.” Again that smile – could I see a hint of glee?
My sobbing stopped. She held up the remote and pressed a button. The message was clear: “Enough. Now shape up and we will continue.”
“Since the session was interrupted, we will start the clock again from zero. I will see you in two hours.”
By the time my brain registered what she had said, she was gone. I was alone again with my cramps, the burning of my nipples, the fire in my butt. I moaned, high and loud. Shocks cursed through my body. Anything to distract me from the cramps and the nausea. Through the bathroom window high on the wall, I could see it was getting dark outside.
I must have passed out. When I woke up, it was all dark outside. She was doing something with my butt plug. Brown goop started gushing out. She used the shower head to rinse it all away, not bothering to turn on the hot water. I hung my head, watching the smelly stomach contents disappear down the drain. As my stomach deflated, I could see my penis again. It was limp inside the locked-on tube. She gently stroked it, and within seconds it was rock hard again.
“See? You are really enjoying yourself. I knew you would. Now let us get you all cleaned up and ready for the weekend.” She aimed the shower head at me, still without using hot water. She then soaped me in, all over. Using a brittle brush to make sure she cleaned every part of me well. She even removed my nipple clamps before washing off the soap with ice cold water. I barely managed to suppress a groan. She rubbed me down with a towel before finally releasing me from the frame. I had no fight left in me. Could not even stand. Crawled on the floor towards her.
“Good pet.” She clipped a leash to my collar and gave it a gentle tug. Completely unneeded. I was broken. No resistance left.
“Now another fantasy of yours – in fact 30.8% of your downloaded pictures, involves making pets out of humans. I find that to be comical, but I am willing to set aside my personal preferences for your enjoyment.
There it was, in the living room. A sinister looking pet suit. Head. Tail. Paws. The works. She did not need to tell me. I started putting on the suit. It was some strange material. Not latex. Not leather. Flexible. Warm to the touch. An opening at the crotch let my balls and encased penis dangle freely below me. My permanently locked penis. An insult. I did not care.
She put on the paws. Inside each, there were tubes for each finger. Rigid tubes. Taking away all sensation and movement. Something clicked. They were locked on. She had paw socks for my feet. They locked too. She attached a tail to a butt plug she inserted. Smaller than the last. Funny how I had almost gotten used to having something up my ass. Then came the dog head. She removed the collar. This was my chance to escape – but I was too broken. Too exhausted. As the dog head covered my own head, I felt a gag sliding into my mouth, and thick pads covered my ears. There were no holes for my eyes. All dark. Nothing to judge time by. Some tugging of laces and another click, and I assumed the head was locked on too. I brought my useless hands up to my face – or rather my snout. Could not feel a thing. She pumped something, and I felt the gag expand in my mouth. I tried to speak, but could not articulate even the simplest of words. She petted my head and clipped something to my collar.
I followed the tug on my leash. No fight left in me. Broken and controlled. She had me back up into something. A cage. The floor had a soft covering. She pushed the door closed. I was trapped in a space barely large enough for my body.
“Mental reprogramming, another of your fantasies,” she said – this time with a laugh in her voice. I was confused. What did she mean by that? My almost useless hands – eh paws – tried to explore my confinement, but I had very little movement.
“Enjoy your night of…” She hesitated. Very unusual for her. Then she continued: “Of reconditioning.”
Then nothing for quite a while until I heard a soft, female voice in my ears. Not her voice.
“I am a pet. I am below any humans. I strive to please. I cannot talk. I will follow any order given.”
It was much more. I don’t care to recite it all. Maybe two-three minutes of instructions. It was hard to tell in my darkness. When it finished, there was a brief pause. Silence I welcomed. Then it started again, the pattern repeating. I understood. This was the reconditioning. I tried to object, but the gag muffled my words to the unrecognizable. Besides, even if I could speak, I had no idea if anyone was listening.