Synthia 2

Synthia: Part 2

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Waking from the needle prick Synthia had given me was even more difficult than the first time she had put me out. My eyes burned as if they had been sprayed with pepper-spray as I tried to open them under the bright overhead lighting. A deep throb behind my eyes each time I tried to split my lids enough to let them adjust made the climb out of my unconsciousness less appealing with each attempt. My head spun and I felt as if I was in a Gyro-sphere and could not ascertain which way was up and which way was down. My stomach felt woozy.

For the time being, I gave up on my eyes and tried to focus on me; as a whole. I felt as if there were no me. I felt devoid of a me. No arms, no legs, no body; other than the sick-feeling in my gut caused by the vertigo and the ache in my eyes when I tried to open them.

Despite my sensory perception of having no limbs, I focused on moving my arms anyway. I needed to rub the ache out of my eyes and try to get them open. I did feel the muscles try to contract once my brain found the correct neuron pathways for the commands to travel, but, my wrists were met with solid resistance. They felt, not shackled, but bolted in place. Only the slightest wiggle between the skin on my wrists and the solid bindings around them. A test of my legs offered the same type of solidly mounted immobility.

“Ok… so I am bound to this… what? …table, bed? …whatever and unable to move.” I half thought and half questioned to myself. “However I’m restrained, it’s solid.” I concluded.

It may have felt like an eternity, but, I was able to take baby-steps up and out of the precipice of drug-induced unconsciousness and, eventually, I was able to slowly peel my eyelids apart and get my irises to contract and cut the amount of light over-stimulating my retinas.

Slowly, my eyes not only could be opened, but, started to gain focus as well. I made out the fact that I was naked. I gradually regained where I was and how I got here, then, remembered something about having to be prepped for surgery. I didn’t feel as if I had had any type of surgical procedures done. I felt no actual pain anywhere even though my brain was finally beginning to be able to focus on the body it controlled. It was even aware of the metal around my wrists, ankles, and now, the fact that my waist too was secured to the thinly padded medical table I lay upon. Yes, my senses were waking, but, I felt nothing but my nakedness and my restraints.

My eyes finally fell upon the beautiful blonde who lured me here; standing statuesque on my right side; her body even less clad than my own as she did not have cuffs on the ends of her appendages or around her waist.

She stood there, blank-faced, not looking at me; as if she was staring at something across the room. She showed no emotion nor any signs of movement. I was even more amazed by the perfection of her body now that I knew she was not human. Her skin-tones were perfect, even showing a slight bikini-tan and the resulting pallor where the fabric blocked the sun from reaching and coloring the skin. She continued to stand there, as stolid and lifeless as a figure made of wax.

I was grateful that I had not been gagged or blindfolded, though a blindfold may have provided my eyes protection as I tried to come to from whatever anesthesia she injected me with.

I tried my voice. I had no idea what I wanted to say, or, if in her current state, she could even hear me. I knew asking for help would be of little benefit, so, I just moaned to test my voice. It seemed as if I hadn’t made a sound for more than a half of a second when Synthia took on complete animation; her sensuous smile, her eyes bright and full of… what?… life?...if the word could be used for what she was.

“I’m so glad you’re awake Paul. The procedure went flawlessly and it is complete. I’m sorry you must remain restrained for the moment. We need to keep you under control; with as little pain as possible of course; until you adjust to your new life with us. I will inform Dr. Stantzworth that you are conscious, then, return to you.” Synthia said almost emphatically, however, the last three words changing to a deeply sensuous, nearly lustful, timbre.

“Wait! Talk to me!” I yelled after her as she crossed the floor. I watched as her perfect ass; bare, smooth, and flawlessly toned; wriggled from side-to-side as she sauntered across the white-tiled floor. Synthia never even acted as if I had addressed her and she left the room.

Synthia returned, wordlessly, within just a few minutes. She placed a soft, warm… warm, how could a synthetic being’s hand be so warm… upon my stomach and slowly started to caress it in slow circles. Her other hand began to softly stroke my inner thighs. My stomach knotted at her touch; as it had the first time I was touched in a sexual way. Her touches, her caresses, felt so wonderful and I felt powerfully lustful desire for the flawless symbol of female quintessence. Her touches making me forget that she was a what and not a who.

Her right hand worked upon my stomach and up the center of my chest along my breastbone, her left slowly moving in large circular motions from one thigh to my pubis then down to my other thigh. Her hands felt magical as they performed along me, but it became obvious quite quickly that she was purposefully avoiding any erogenous parts of my body.

Synthia’s actions had me moaning and cooing from the exotic and erotic motions she performed upon me quite expertly. However, I was in total dismay that my cock had not reacted in its normal ‘instant erection’ manner as it had when I was touched sensually; even last night when locked in my chastity device. Now, it seemed as if I had been paralyzed and there was no longer a connection between my brain and my prick. Nothing!

“What have you done to me!?!” I screamed at the imposter of a human woman; the sensations of her touch lost in an instant.

“Everything will be explained when Dr. Stantzworth gets here. Relax and enjoy. Touching you has me so excited and wet. I am dying for the doctor to give me permission to use you.” She said in the voice of pure sensuality she can conjure.

“Excited? Wet? You’re a fucking machine! You can’t be wet and excited!” I shouted with near revile.

She took the hand she used to rub my torso and moved it between her legs. “Have you ever given a woman oral sex Paul?” She asked, losing the passionate sensuousness she exuded only a few moments before.

“Yes.” I answered. “So what!?” I asked.

She ran her index and middle fingers over my lips and slowly into my mouth. Her fingers were wet… very wet in fact.

“How’s that taste Paul? Like you remember it does?” The sexy tone back in her voice as if it could be turned on and off with a switch. Then, I remembered, that it probably was a switch she used to activate and deactivate her intonations.

Her fingers tasted very much like genuine female juice. My nose catching her smell too. Being not much of a ‘lady-killer’ it’s not as though I am a true expert on the subject, but, I doubted an expert could tell the difference between Synthia’s lubricant and a human woman’s sexual wetness.

“You haven’t been a naughty girl, have you Synthia?” Doctor Stantzworth question when he came up behind her.

“He called me a machine and said I could not taste like a woman, so I proved otherwise.” She said, now with the sulky, pouty voice of a little girl.

“My dear Paul…” The elderly albino of a doctor began, “…let me assure you once again that Synthia is completely indistinguishable from a real woman; without opening her skin, of course. Unless she enters security-mode, when she touches you she feels nothing less than what a real woman would feel. When you touch her, she feels exactly what human nerves feel. She feels heat and cold like you do. Synthia even has monthly menstrual cycles. Her hair grows and she has to trim her finger and toe nails. She eats and drinks the same things as biological women and excretes waste. If she eats the wrong things, she can even wake up with halitosis. As long as she remains in ‘life-mode’ she will even age just as any living being does.” The white-haired, bespectacled man in the white lab coat said admiringly.

“Her emotions can be hurt as well Paul. I say this as a warning and as a father. Don’t hurt her again by being disrespectful of her. This is her first, and probably only, relationship and she has to learn about emotional upheaval. Unfortunately, she became sexually developed before fully developing her emotional equilibrium of being an artificial form of life. But, she is life and she is alive by modern definitions of life. She can even reproduce, though; I currently have that part of her shut off. It’s not much different than if she were on ‘the pill’. There is too much unpredictability in just how biological or how synthetic a child from her would be. I am not, of yet, ready to test it; and feel that at the human-equivalent age of twenty-one, she is too young to have a child, in my belief, anyway.” He paused, seeming to think of what he wanted to inform me of next.

“I will tell you that we did not pick you. Synthia picked you. Why… I don’t know. Especially with all the other men she could have chosen. I would suspect there were more than a few very envious men in that bar when they watched you walk out with her. Men much more developed and hansom than you, pardon me for saying so. All I know is that over the last couple years of her development, she has shown a fondness for bondage. She even wants to get bound, but, unfortunately she breaks handcuffs as easily as if she were tied with toilet paper; once she decides she wants loose. Your current bindings are strong enough to hold her, but for now she wants you to be the one bound for her. Unfortunately for you, I believe you will find yourself bound quite regularly and in some fairly uncomfortable and exotic positions from what I have seen of her private rooms. Please understand Paul, there is no escape. Her bondage devices have been designed to hold her in place; you have no hope of getting free from them. The cuffs on you now can only be removed by Synthia. There are no keys. No keyholes for them if there were. It is purely up to her when and if they come off. Her sexual proclivities are her own to decide upon and I can not intervene in her desires.” Dr. Stantzworth paused momentarily.

“Now, as for your surgeries. Your sexual and erogenous parts have been modified with the same molecularly designed nerve fibers which conducts Synthia’s nerve impulses. She has complete control of your function and sensitivities. Every part of you works. Actually, much better than your original design, but, when and how she wishes them to work. Depending on how her development of sexual wants grows, it could be a good thing for you or a bad thing for you.” He paused and nodded towards Synthia.

“Really!?!” She said excitedly.

“Yes sweetheart. Now you may.” He replied.

Synthia made a movement of her hand and I felt an erection start to grow. She encircled the fore and middle fingers of her right hand with a loose fist of her left. When she began to slide the fingers through her palm and curved fingers and thumb. I felt the most amazing hand-stroking of my cock I had ever felt. I had no choice but to throw my head back deep into my pillow and moan. The only equivalency in human thoughts I could liken it to be was she was stroking my cock via ESP.

She stopped the long-distance stroking of my shaft and changed the position and direction of her left hand and fingers; making a single-fingered hole with her index and thumb and used the same two fingers on her right hand she had used as the stand-in for my prick. Entering the hole from the top of her hand, it felt as if my asshole was getting fucked. She added a third finger and discomfort turned to sharp pain. I screamed and struggled as she gave me a virtual butt-fuck.

When she decided I had had enough play with my anus, she put her hands out in front of her and pinched the tips of her thumbs and forefingers together. My nipples felt a pinching sensation; stinging, but not overly painful until she started using her fingers to twist the imaginary nipples between the pads of her fingers and thumbs. I howled out in pain.

“You are going to be so fun Paul.” She said to me, then, “Can I actually touch and have him tonight daddy?” She asked the doctor.

“Easily for at least another week Synthia.” He replied to her, then, “I know you are unaware of this, but the surgery actually took place one week ago. I had to keep you unconscious long enough for the added nerves to connect with your natural nerves without being moved around. I removed the catheter and feeding tube and Synthia added the cuffs and belt today before I administered the reversal agent. That’s why, as I am sure you did, you had such a hard time coming to when you woke. After another week the nerves will be as if they had been there from the beginning; but for now she can play, however, with caution. Any questions for me Paul?” He asked, signaling to me that he had finished with his informational dissertation.

“Why?” Was the only question which clearly formed itself in my stunned mind.

“She wanted a man and she chose you. Synthia is the only one that can honestly answer that question for you. I’m merely the mechanic.” He stated.

“Some fucking mechanic… what’s next, repairing a WARP drive engine?” I thought to myself, but outwardly held my tongue.

“I’ll transfer you to my quarters after dinner. I bet you’re hungry after being comatose for a week and only being fed liquid supplements.” Synthia said giddily.

The two of them walked together towards the door they seemed to use most for entering and exiting the only room I have any knowledge of being in. Synthia turned towards me before exiting and manipulated her hand. Soft tingles started in my nipples and groin. The sensations felt great and had me writhing in ecstasy against my restraints in no time. The erogenous buds on my chest felt as if they were being softly circled by sensual fingers; my cock feeling as if it was being caressed, though not stroked, by a soft, delicate hand; my balls gently cupped and massaged by yet another. In my haze of thought, beyond the erotic touches my mind was being tricked into believing I was being given, I was glad she had left my asshole alone. They left the room; leaving me bound, naked, and reeling in sexual pleasures.

In the current state Synthia had left me in, it seemed as if an eon had passed before she returned. The erotic faux-handling of my sexually responsive areas kept me on the edge of climax but would not allow me to teeter over the orgasmic precipice I balanced upon. I needed to get my hands down to help me finish and was being slowly driven crazy by being unable to.

I hadn’t found it important to look at the clock when the two of them departed me, so, knowing the clock now showed that it was just past five-thirty left me unable to determine how long I had been suffering the pains of an unfulfilled orgasm.

Synthia stood next to me, looking down at what must’ve looked like a squirming worm in the body of a man; a man overwrought with lustful need and attempting to adjust himself into some position to satisfy that need. She looked upon me amorously.

“I love watching you.” She said. “I love knowing you need me. Needing me to either release you from your sexual frustration or allow you to give yourself release. If I watch you too long I will soil my fresh attire.”

With that, the ever maddening sensation of buzzing within my rock-hard prick, my frustrated blue-balls, and my over-sensitized nipples, quit. Synthia stood there silently watching me as my heart-rate slowly returned to its normal 60-70 beats per minute, my breathing dropped back to the expected rate of a healthy non-smoker, and the muscular twitches of ecstatic desire ceased.

“I almost allowed you to cum sweetie, but decided I wanted you for myself tonight and didn’t want to discharge your performance without me. I so want bedtime to come quickly, but, for now, it’s almost dinner time.” She said in a softness and sensuality to sooth even the hardest of hearts.

It was the first time since Synthia brought me here from the club that I had seen her wearing anything more than air. The pink Lycra one-piece she donned fit her body as if it had been painted on. She spun around slowly and asked me if I liked the suit. The compression of the suit made her… ribs; for a lack of fully understanding her construction; show more than they did when she was naked. Her pert nipples almost clearly defined themselves under the stretchy fabric and the crotch seam entirely disappeared into the depths of her womanly cleave.

“I hate wearing clothes.” She stated pout-fully. “They make me itch. But father insists on them in his quarters.” She finished with the same, almost childlike, tone.

“Can’t you turn it off?” Was the only thing I could think to say.

“Not without entering security-mode and I’m a real bitch then; nothing like my normal fun-loving self.” She offered. “Daddy designed me so I that I had to feel the real-world environment so I would interact with it and not simply ignore whether it was hot or cold or wet.” She stated and tossed a blue Lycra one-piece onto me, covering my now relaxing member. “You need to be dressed too.” She finished.

“That would be a little difficult at the moment.” I quipped.

“I will release you; but, there are a few things I need to show you when I do. I can limit your movements with the metal bands around your wrists and ankles. I believe this to be necessity during your adjustment to your new life with us. It is much better to the alternatives. When I release you from the table, your legs will react as if there is a spreader-bar between your ankles and your arms chained to your waist-belt. Just in case you feel the need, or desire, to run or fight.” Synthia explained as she motioned her hand in a manner which almost appeared as if she was forming a letter in sign-language. My bonds immediately released from the table and my wrists involuntarily moved from above my head, down to the smooth metallic belt around my lower midriff.

I sat up, my body wary of the movement due to its lack of usage for an extended duration, and spun my legs off the side of the padded surface. My legs neither closed nor widened in the slightest as I moved them. Once dangling over the edge I purposefully tried to move them closer together and further apart. The cuffs around my ankles reacted as if there were a metal bar welded between them. I could see there was nothing but air, but, the only movement of my legs was the removal of what little slack there was between my skin and the circlets around it.

The resistance of my wrist-cuffs was very different. I could move them. They would move forward, backward, away, up, and down from the sides of the steel around my waist, but, only about eight inches in any direction. Just as if there were a length of chain attaching them to the belt, square on my sides. I sat there completely puzzled, and, probably appeared near in shock. What I was seeing was not possible.

“Magnetism.” Synthia offered.

I looked at her blankly. “It can’t be. Magnetism doesn’t work that way. It can’t repel and attract in the same direction. It can’t be non-existent within eight inches but hard-attracted at that limit. It goes completely against the physical properties of magnetism.” I spoke of the moveable distance of my wrist-cuffs as I pulled them in close and, quick and hard, tried to force them away; the cuffs stopping as sturdily as if there were a chain; my skin at risk of bruising with each try.

“I’m not suggesting, I am telling Paul; it works on magnetism. What you know about the physics of magnetism is correct and incorrect depending upon the material the magnetic items are made of. A ceramic or neodymium material will always pull and repel based on its polarity, however, like a star, the polarity of the material Daddy has developed has hundreds of thousands of positive and negative poles, not just two. We have to get ready Paul, Daddy is probably already waiting on us.” She explained, then, hinted for me to hurry along.

My partially visible, partially invisible, restraints made getting my legs through the front zipper and into each leg-hole somewhat difficult. I found it interesting how the brain interprets physical restraint when the restraints seem to be non-existent. It forgets; unlike it does when the restraints connectors can be seen. My mind kept telling me that I can spread my legs wider or close them together even though they would not physically do so. I doubted I would’ve had such trouble if there were a physical bar between the cuffs; with the exception of it blocking the material from being pulled up past it of course. My hands kept insisting, that they too, could reach further than they were capable of. I’m sure the shock of what I was seeing and feeling didn’t help matters either.

Synthia slid the zipper to the stops at the base of my neck when she noticed I was having trouble even by doubling my body over so I could reach my décolletage with my hands.

“You look nice in that Paul.” Synthia said and worked her hand again.

I immediately felt the pressure preventing my legs from meeting disappear. I tested it and my legs would fully close together now but still not separate any further than the previous two foot wide.

“I changed it from spreader to chain so you can walk easier.” Synthia said smilingly.

All I could do was to simply shake my head at the disbelief of what I was seeing; unable to deny it, but, equally unable to comprehend it.

“I can see you’re somewhat confused Paul. Daddy will be able to clarify things for you. Follow me darling.” She mused, the awe and disbelief obviously on my face as if in flashing neon.

I took up a position behind the pink-Lycra clad blonde and followed her at the limited pace the; what I considered being; world’s quietest and strongest restraints would allow. To a voyeur, I imagined I may have looked as if I have suddenly accepted my new subservient role; head drooped and walking four-feet behind his Mistress; but, in all reality, I simply could not pull my eyes away from the heart-shaped derriere wiggling in front of me. Even now; an as yet unwilling captive of an unnatural being and its designer, unsure of what is to come; I was enamored by the figure of perfection walking in front of me and strangely addressing me in terms of endearment. I was in fear and infatuation at the same time.

Synthia led me out of the lab and into a white corridor, as sterile looking as the room we just left; a few closed doors lining its bland walls; toward a closed door at the end of the passage. Upon passing through the doorway we may have well been transported from a laboratory to a richly decorated home; deeply polished wood furniture topped with fine ceramic arts and walls festooned with works of oil, pigments, and brushes, and a skillful guiding hand.

A turn down another hall and we entered a large, formal dining room; a mahogany table with seating for eight centered upon a Persian rug equal in quality of the décor I spotted earlier. Doctor Stantzworth was seated at the head of the table. Synthia pulled the high-backed chair to his left out and allowed me to be seated. She positioned me to the table and stopped next to the old doctor, whispering in his ear, before continuing to her seat and seating herself.

“Synthia informs me that you have a few things you wish to have clarified for you. Would you allow it to wait until after supper? Some of the analogies I may use might not bode well before a meal.” The, now obvious, super-genius of a man offered.

“That’s fine sir.” I replied.

“Doc would be more comfortably accepted than Sir Paul.” He returned.

“Yes doc.” I volleyed.

Synthia removed the invisible chains holding my wrists to the belt on my waist with another odd-looking hand movement.

“That becomes quite annoying Synthia.” Doc said to his daughter, then, to me; “She does not have to use her hands in such a way. Actually, she only has to think of what she wants and close her hand… the close kind of acting as an ‘Enter’ key on a computer. She thinks her little gestures are cute.” He informed me. If it hadn’t been for the things I, previously, believed impossible; the blush that crossed Synthia’s face when her father said this would’ve caught me off-guard.

We dined amicably and, almost, peaceably on a five-course meal and sipped a fine red wine. I say almost peaceably as Synthia decided to show a ‘playfully-mean’ side by twice giving my nipples an almost painful shock just as I was guiding a fork of food into my mouth; causing me to jump and howl.

“Syn-thi-a!” The doc admonished; raising an octave on each syllable as if speaking to a child; after the second time she did it.

“Sorry Daddy. Sorry Paul.” She apologized.

After finishing our meal, Doc suggested we retire to the study for our conversation and a sip of cognac. Synthia led me down the hall to the bookcase-lined room and to a sitting chair across from another. She left my hands free but magnetically welded my ankles together before leaving us. Doc poured two-inches of the expensive liquor in a crystal sipping glass, handing it to me before serving himself.

“Neither Synthia nor I are changing, nor have changed, physics my dear boy. Not even physics the way you understand them. It is the molecular properties of a material, the material which encompasses portions of your anatomy, which I have altered.” Doc began without having to ask about my curiosities.

“Unlike the common ceramic and rare-earth metallic’s magnets are manufactured from; which are only capable of having two poles—north and south—my material has the capacity for hundreds of thousands of these two poles. Think of the common magnet being the Earth and my magnet being a Star.” Doc pausing as I politely broke in.

“That was how Synthia described it, though I’m still confused.” I explained.

“And hopefully I will be able to clarify it depending, of course, on your actual understanding of the physics of electro-magnetism.” He started and paused to sip from his glass.

“A star; dependent on its volume and/or mass; has hundreds of thousands to millions of magnetic poles. The material I have designed works in the same way as a star; however, I have turned each one of those individual poles into electro-magnets opposed to being permanent magnets. In addition, each electro-magnet can have its polarity changed as a motor’s stator does; thus, if half of the magnetic fields of a pair of magnets are positively-poled and the other half negatively-poled, the two magnets will both attract and repel one another with equal force. Therefore, the two magnets cannot be pulled further apart nor pushed closer together. The distance of the two magnets can be changed by adjusting the gauss, or power, of the individual fields. Are you following me so far Paul?” He paused to check and take another sip.

I was. Other than the distances the magnets could react upon each other, everything he had said made sense to me. How he had manipulated the material I could probably never grasp; my atomic and molecular knowledge being slim-to-none; but I understood the physics.

“I do understand the physics of it Doc… but, distance? I can’t grasp how they work at such distances when the power of electro-magnetism falls off exponentially over distance.” I pondered questioningly to him.

“Gauss. It’s all a matter of gauss. The most powerful rare-earth permanent magnets work in gauss ranges in the tens of thousands. Even the huge electro-magnets, used in scrap-yards, work at the higher spectrum of those same levels. My magnets work in the millions. I’m not going to go into power supply and dissipation of heat associated with these kinds of levels, let’s just say, I had some pretty serious melt-downs; almost on the nuclear level; during my initial tests. Here you can make the analytical comparison of a main-sequence star and a magnetar.” Again, he stopped to sip his liquor and ascertain whether he overrun my level of understanding or not.

“Ohhh Wowww!” Was the best I could reply with. I understood what he had explained but could come nowhere near comprehending the how of what he had done. “But the mass of a magnetar…” I begun and was quickly cut off.

“Yes… but it is electro-magnetism, not gravitational mass. If the volume of material on you were neutron material, the Earth would be orbiting around you and not the sun. Again; gauss, not gravity, is the generated result of my invention. And, this being the part I didn’t want to mention prior to supper, if Synthia was to, accidentally or purposefully, set the distance of the rings around your extremities to… say… ten-feet, your body would be torn limb-from-limb. She, even with her near indestructibility, would be destroyed under the same situation if they were on her.” He explained gruesomely, me being glad he had put off until I had finished supper.

“I’m old and becoming tired young man. We must leave our conversation here; however, I hope you understand, with what I have told you, you will never be allowed to leave here with the knowledge of my invention. We are now past the point of no-return. I am sure Synthia is ready for me to return you to her. Goodnight son.” Doc finished with finality. “Synthia.” He said loudly; calling after his daughter as he raised himself from his chair.

I too was feeling the hours since I had awoken from my week-long slumber; however, I believed that my night was only about to begin and sleep would be a longtime in coming. I couldn’t help but be fearful and apprehensive of the plans she had for me; however, there was also a hint of excitement stemming from the notion of someone (something) so beautiful, so fit, and, as sensualistic as she (it) wanting someone the likes me.

After Synthia seen Doc off to bed, she returned to the study and stood in front of me.

“Finish if you haven’t, set the glass on the table if you have.” She addressed me without a hint of the innocence nor seductiveness she had exuded earlier. Now she gave orders.

I finished the last few drops in my glass and set it on the table next to my seat.

“Stand.” Synthia barked. I began to fear I had done something to make her mad with the tone she now used.

I stood. Almost immediately my wrists were pulled to the small of my back and held secure. My ankles returned to the same ‘chained’ condition as they had when I was brought to this section of the building. A burning, tingling sensation overtook my nipples and my cock buzzed.

“Follow me slave!” She demanded. Her calling me slave actually alleviated some of my fear as I now believed that she was not angry with me but was now taking on the role of a Mistress. The buds of my chest were only slightly in discomfort but I had no doubts that I would pay if I displayed any act of defiance towards her. I knew I was solely at her mercy and did not want to test, as of yet at least, her limits of pain she was willing to administer. I followed her from the study.

Synthia led me through the same halls and corridors we traversed on our way to dine. I figured she would take me into one of the rooms behind the closed doors in the bleakly white corridor leading back to the laboratory, until, that is, we actually entered the white and stainless steel sterility of the lab. I prayed that she did not want to use me in the ugliness the lab offered. My spiritual request must have been answered as she continued to lead me through the lab and through a door down a passage which had been obscured from my sight while I was secured to the table while in here before.

I almost began to wish for the blandness of the laboratory after entering the room she led me to. Even the most naïve BDSM novice could not mistake its identity and purpose for which the room had been designed—a dungeon; and, a very well furnished one at that.

Shortly after entering the room Synthia turned off the nerve stimulations she activated before leading me here, but, shortened the distance between my ankles to only a couple of inches; wide enough for me to easily keep my balance and turn to look around the room but not much more.

The space was quite large and mimicked a dungeon out of the Dark-Ages in every detail. Cold looking gray-stone made up the walls, complete with iron shackles anchored in several places. A wooden pillory and stock combination was placed in a corner, the stone floor looking rough and painful where the knees would rest while trapped within their confines. Wrought-iron cages of differing shapes and sizes claimed some of the square-footage of the room. A wooden St. Andrews cross made of aged heavy beams took its position against one wall while a matching rack rested, ominously angled, against another. In the center of the room; large, heavy, and extremely stout looking; stood a solid wooden bondage-bed laden with numerous attachment points for positions I could, and probably many I could not, imagine.

Neatly arranged on a shelf-covered and hook-lined wall was every imaginable type of leather and/or iron bondage equipment and binding invented by every evil and demented sexual torture enthusiast throughout the ages. Leather hoods, iron head-cages, leather cuffs, iron shackles, leather gags, iron bits, leather paddles and floggers, wooden canes and switches, and leather strops. I hoped beyond hope that she only had most of these items, and numerous others, as decorative fodder; though my mind feared; decorations for whom if nobody visited.

“Over here!” Synthia ordered as my hands and legs were released from their strictly held positions. I crossed to her position next to a wooden whipping-pony complete with its own pillory and stocks.

“Strip!” She barked.

I unzipped the closure holding the stretch fabric closed over my front side and pulled my arms and legs free of the tubes by each of the cuffs at the ends. I half folded, half bundled the one-piece and set it on the floor next to the mount I was sure I would be restrained upon shortly. I was taken aback when the metal-like bands around my wrists, ankles, and waist fell off and to the floor; happy the waist-belt did not find the top of one of my feet or toes when it landed. They landed upon the hard stone floor with a strange metallic and non-metallic sound.

“They’ll be replaced sometime. In here, however, they are more in the way than of any significance as I do not have anything in here for them to react with. This room and its devices use old fashioned restraints of leather or steel. Don’t feel as if it gives you opportunity… I still control your nerves.” Synthia said coldly while lifting the top half of the pillory’s closure.

“Down and in!” Came the order sharply, and I complied. She lowered the heavy wood securing my head and hands in the holes designed for them. Two clicks and the latches held my new restraining device in place. A leather belt was tightened around my waist and my legs guided into the stocks at the base of the two rear legs and secured within.

“You got me in trouble this evening Paul. Now you’re in trouble and going to get punished for it.” Synthia said callously with a hint of venom mixed in.

“I…” I tried to begin and defend myself of her accusation; cut off by the ball passing my lips and teeth and tightly embedded deep in my mouth by a tight strap. I decidedly knew now that I had been wrong about the whole anger versus Mistress thought about earlier.

The first lash of the switch caught me completely off guard and stung worse than anything ever had. Unfortunately, as I come to find, the pain only got worse the more she caned. Synthia was relentless in her issuance of punishment. My screams and thrashings went unheeded by her as one strike after another struck my bareness from the top of my ass to the middle of my thighs. Wherever the flexible wood struck felt as if a line of fire ants stung in unison, causing a burning line along the skin where the arc of the swing ended. My mind lost the ability to sequence numbers after I counted thirty-eight. I only know how many Synthia stopped with as she said, “ninety-nine…one-hundred…” on her final two blows.

I had originally thought the room chilly when I removed my clothing, but, now, I sweat worse than a whore in church. The entire area of my ass felt as if I had leaned against a long-lit pot-belly stove.

My stomach felt queasy from the pain, only intensifying as she begun caressing the flesh she lined with welts. I sensed the raised lines criss-crossing and lining my flesh as her soft skin slipped over them. I wondered just how long it would be before I would be able to sit in comfort again.

Synthia removed the restraints locking me to the whipping-pony, removing me from one piece of bondage furniture and placing me directly into another. She removed my gag before laying me on the cool stone floor and placing my head into a queening-box and cuffing my hands to the sides of it. She fettered my ankles in iron cuffs and a wide spreader-bar. The coolness of the floor originally felt nice upon my extremely tenderized skin covering my rear, but, it didn’t take long before my weight pressing against the stone overrode the cooling effect.

Through the hole in the box, I watched as Synthia slinked out of her pink skin. She bent over and looked me in the eyes, an image of her looking at me in a toilet left an impression in my mind I wished I could expunge from my memory. “Do me right!” She demanded.

She lowered herself and fitted her tight ass and perfect vulva into the hole until her pussy covered my mouth and my nose tried to bury in her asshole.

I lapped my tongue along the length of her innermost delicate skin. She was very wet even before the moist muscle in my mouth touched her. She tasted just as wonderful as the, only two, other women I had been lucky enough to orally copulate had. I worked the tip of my tongue into her vagina as far as I could, flicking the tip quickly trying to please her and attempting to get it deeper. Synthia squirmed as I did and rested herself heavier upon my face. Now the other name for the box become more befitting—a smother-box. I worked my mouth upon her sensitivities, both in an effort to please her and in an attempt to get more air into my burning lungs. I used my nose to rub against her anus, trying to ford an opening for one nostril or the other. With the bump behind my neck forcing my chin against her Mons, her pussy covering my mouth and my nose nearly entering her asshole, I could find no spot for air to enter and replenish my lungs with oxygen. Soon panic set in and I tried to turn my head to either side and flailed my body around. I could feel my field of vision beginning to narrow, even though I could not see it deminish in the darkness of the box. Synthia’s moans become more and more distant; both my vision and hearing beginning to suffer the effects of oxygen deprivation.

Just before I fully lost consciousness Synthia lifted her weight from my face far enough for me to gasp and withdraw a much needed replenishment of oxygen rich air. By the time she actually had an orgasmic release, which seemed to overtake her quite violently and literally drenched my face in her juices, she made me endure three more near suffocations.

“OH MY GOD PAUL!!!” She screamed near the top of her voice. After catching my breath, and regaining full consciousness for the fourth time, I couldn’t help but wonder who her God was.

“I just had my first orgasm! An actual fucking ORGASM Paul! Wow! What a RUSH!” She cried in excitement and enthusiasm. “Did I forget to tell you I am a virgin Paul?” She gasped, panting as if she had actually lost her breath. “I need more and now I need you!” She said as she unlocked my wrists from the box, lifted the lid, then lifted me and settled me on my back atop the bondage table. Pulling leather restraints from the wall, she fastened them upon my wrists and secured them to the table, widely. She secured the spreader to a single fastening point in the center of the table with a padlock.

I had no way to tell, as my time with my new nerves was still much too new, if my erection was natural or due to Synthia, but, whatever its state; it was undoubtedly at its largest. Synthia wasted no time straddling me and sliding me into her. Her weight upon my hips made the wooden surface press painfully against my woefully tenderized ass.

I was somewhat shocked when her face contorted, from what appeared to be a grimace of pain, as she slid my stiff cock within her vagina. She bit on her lower lip sensuously and closed her eyes, allowing her head to tilt backwards as she fully engulfed me.

“I felt myself pop Paul. You took my virginity.” She said lost in the deep throws of lust. I actually thought I felt something warm slink down my inner thigh and believed it just might’ve been whatever served as her blood.

I almost started becoming aggravated as she slid herself up and down my shaft. I could feel how tightly her muscles grabbed at me but I could only feel the slightest sensation of moving within her. She rode me slowly and I started trying to thrust myself harder and deeper into her.

“Stop sweetie…let me work you. I know the limits my father wants me to put upon your surgery and you don’t. Besides, it won’t work for you because I have lessened your sensitivity so you don’t lose interest too soon. With each orgasm I have, you will feel more. I need you to give me your best darling… I promise you will not be disappointed in the end.” Her voice cooed softly through each syllable of every word as she spoke.

She rode me slowly but fully, her labia kissing my pubis each time she lowered herself upon my length. It wasn’t long before her breathing become deeper and quicker. After a few more minutes of slipping me into her, Synthia’s body shook, her vaginal muscles contracted and she sung out a long animalistic howl of ecstatic delight. As she had promised, I felt the level of responsiveness in my nerves rise after her orgasm waned and she continued her ride.

Her next orgasm to follow built very quickly. I would almost believe it to be a continuation of her previous one with a slight ebb in its intensity. However, as my cock would agree, Synthia considered them as separate orgasms as my prick grew more receptive to sensation once again. She also added a slight tingle to my nipples as she teased her own with her fingers.

Synthia’s head remained thrown back, her eyes stayed closed, and her tongue lightly circled her lips as her folded-under legs slowly lifted and lowered her body on me. She was now allowing me to feel enough, of course along with the feelings my nipples were feeling, for the pangs of a building orgasm to develop within me. I could now feel her softness and warmth as she took me into her. Her total immersion into ecstasy clearly visible in her facial expression, and, the way she was caressing her own hard buds almost excited me to orgasm before my prick could have a chance to. She so reminded me now of the character Amanda Hunsaker in the first “Lethal Weapon”. Amanda’s ecstasy filled sensuality during the opening scenes had burned a permanent sexual image in my impressionable adolescent mind; and, now, here she is balling me. Until now, I had missed the resemblance between Synthia and the, then twenty-four year old when the movie had been produced, actress I now knew to be Jackie Swanson.

My first orgasm with her was building at about the same pace as her fourth in her life, and her third with me inside her, built within her. She moved slightly faster, albeit still quite gently, upon me and between the strokes on my cock and the buzz in my nipples, I built ever higher to my own ever-eventual climax.

Almost as if timed, we came with one another. Now I could not help but buck against her. My hips were on autopilot as my body’s natural instinct to plant my seed deeply; to help raise the chances of insemination and procreation; overrode any attempts I made to lay still. Her eyes opened and she looked down and smiled at me moments after my load released, informing me that she felt it within her.

Synthia continued to fuck me until coaxing one more orgasm from both of us.

After dismounting me, she changed the steel cuffs and spreader for softer leather ankle cuffs and secured my legs. We were both covered in sweat and the coolness of the room caused my skin to break out in goose-flesh. Synthia covered my naked body with a blanket and planted a long, sensual and tongue filled kiss upon my mouth before bidding me a good night and leaving the room.

As I drifted off to sleep, I wondered if life here with It would really be all that bad.

The End—EPL

Author’s Note:

I am sorry for all of the technicalities of magnetism, stars, and magnetars; but, for myself and for readers whom require some sort of explanation as to how something which seems to go against physics really doesn’t break the laws of physics, I had to come up with a plausible way to have magnetism react the way the story required, without stomping all over real-world properties of electro-magnetism and the rules that govern them.

Not unlike Michael Crichton when he first thought of writing Jurassic Park but would not until finding a plausible real-world way to obtain dinosaur DNA. He only decided to start writing it after a Science Journal stated that the DNA of an insect trapped in amber tens of millions of years ago had published an article about it; did Mr. Crichton actually begin work on the best seller. I am no different. Just as no actual dinosaur DNA has ever been recovered from an insect stuck in amber, and, due to the fragility of DNA, it could never be used to actually construct a viable DNA helix strand; Dr. Stantzworth’s invented ‘super-element’ doesn’t have to exist for me to explain how the actions of electro-magnetism can both repel and attract in the same direction, and, from a distance. The science is sound even though we currently do not have a material that can accomplish it.

Thank you for allowing me my speech…I shall now leave my stump.

  ElectroPainLover

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09.02.17