from head to feet. It is stretched so tight across my skin that it constricts all movement. There are two small holes in the nostril area to breathe through, another hole in the genital area, and a third hole in the anal area.
I begin to sweat immediately, heart racing, panicking. I can’t see anything and I can’t move and I am hanging upside down and gagged. I feel completely disorientated.
Aunt Sophia starts to pull my penis and testicles out through the small opening at the front of the mummy bag, then she moves behind me and inserts a large anal metal probe into me. It is wider than my rectum and she forces it in roughly.
I groan and begin to hyperventilate and am feeling nauseas. I try to protest verbally but off course my voice is muffled by the gag. The black latex cocoon is stretched tight over my head, yet I can hear the door open and close softly.
“Do you want to do it?” Aunt Sophia says to the person who has just entered the room. The person must have nodded because my aunt says, “Very well, you do it.”
I can feel what seems to be small crocodile clips being attached to my testicles and penis, nibbling sharply into my flesh.
I wait, heart pounding in my ears for the inevitable pain to come. And yet, when it comes, I am unprepared for the agonizing electrical current that sears white-hot and excruciating through the metal crocodile clips attached to my genitals and the metal probe inside my anus.
Whoever is controlling the electrical current does so expertly - turning up the voltage to unbearable levels of agony, and then turning the voltage off just when I am about to pass out from the pain. The waves of terrifying torture go on and on for hours.
I scream until I am hoarse and finally pass out.
Chapter Twelve
The next morning she did not join me for breakfast on the terrace. I didn’t see her the whole day and, when I knocked at her door, there was no reply. I was suddenly anxious and frightened that I had scared her off with my fantasies of pleasure and pain, and that she had left the hotel and that I would never see her again. It occurred to me that I did not even know where she lived or how to get in touch with her.
I was gripped by panic.
That afternoon I went for a walk in the pine forest and, to my utter relief, found Saskia sitting on the stone bench in the clearing.
She did not greet me as I sat down next to her. For a long while we sat in silence and at last she spoke.
"Do you really think that I could be capable of the wanton cruelty and abuse of another human being? Especially of someone who cares for me as you profess to do?”" she said.
I struggled to find an answer. The fear of alienating her and driving her away stopped me from saying what I was really feeling and thinking.
"Well—do you ?" she insisted.
I kneeled down in front of her and took her hands. “Become my fantasy, Saskia – absolutely and without compassion or reservation."
" You want me to I realize your darkest fantasies? You want me to torment and torture you?"
I looked at her unflinchingly. "I believe that all my dark fantasies lie dormant in your own personality. I believe that’s why we are attracted to each. I need to be dominated by a woman and you crave a submissive. I believe that you would enjoy having a man wholly in your power and torturing him—"
" No!" she exclaimed quickly and snatched her hands away. But uncertainty clouded her eyes. "Yes, perhaps…" She trailed off, confused.
She looked at me, unhappy and perplexed. "Thanks to you I don't understand myself any longer. You are corrupting my thoughts and inflaming my imagination. I am actually beginning to like the idea of this torment that you dream of. The enthusiasm with which you speak of the coldblooded and cruel women throughout history has taken hold of my imagination. I find myself wanting to become like those women, who despite their vileness were slavishly adored. It is tempting to be unconditionally adored by a
I begin to sweat immediately, heart racing, panicking. I can’t see anything and I can’t move and I am hanging upside down and gagged. I feel completely disorientated.
Aunt Sophia starts to pull my penis and testicles out through the small opening at the front of the mummy bag, then she moves behind me and inserts a large anal metal probe into me. It is wider than my rectum and she forces it in roughly.
I groan and begin to hyperventilate and am feeling nauseas. I try to protest verbally but off course my voice is muffled by the gag. The black latex cocoon is stretched tight over my head, yet I can hear the door open and close softly.
“Do you want to do it?” Aunt Sophia says to the person who has just entered the room. The person must have nodded because my aunt says, “Very well, you do it.”
I can feel what seems to be small crocodile clips being attached to my testicles and penis, nibbling sharply into my flesh.
I wait, heart pounding in my ears for the inevitable pain to come. And yet, when it comes, I am unprepared for the agonizing electrical current that sears white-hot and excruciating through the metal crocodile clips attached to my genitals and the metal probe inside my anus.
Whoever is controlling the electrical current does so expertly - turning up the voltage to unbearable levels of agony, and then turning the voltage off just when I am about to pass out from the pain. The waves of terrifying torture go on and on for hours.
I scream until I am hoarse and finally pass out.
Chapter Twelve
The next morning she did not join me for breakfast on the terrace. I didn’t see her the whole day and, when I knocked at her door, there was no reply. I was suddenly anxious and frightened that I had scared her off with my fantasies of pleasure and pain, and that she had left the hotel and that I would never see her again. It occurred to me that I did not even know where she lived or how to get in touch with her.
I was gripped by panic.
That afternoon I went for a walk in the pine forest and, to my utter relief, found Saskia sitting on the stone bench in the clearing.
She did not greet me as I sat down next to her. For a long while we sat in silence and at last she spoke.
"Do you really think that I could be capable of the wanton cruelty and abuse of another human being? Especially of someone who cares for me as you profess to do?”" she said.
I struggled to find an answer. The fear of alienating her and driving her away stopped me from saying what I was really feeling and thinking.
"Well—do you ?" she insisted.
I kneeled down in front of her and took her hands. “Become my fantasy, Saskia – absolutely and without compassion or reservation."
" You want me to I realize your darkest fantasies? You want me to torment and torture you?"
I looked at her unflinchingly. "I believe that all my dark fantasies lie dormant in your own personality. I believe that’s why we are attracted to each. I need to be dominated by a woman and you crave a submissive. I believe that you would enjoy having a man wholly in your power and torturing him—"
" No!" she exclaimed quickly and snatched her hands away. But uncertainty clouded her eyes. "Yes, perhaps…" She trailed off, confused.
She looked at me, unhappy and perplexed. "Thanks to you I don't understand myself any longer. You are corrupting my thoughts and inflaming my imagination. I am actually beginning to like the idea of this torment that you dream of. The enthusiasm with which you speak of the coldblooded and cruel women throughout history has taken hold of my imagination. I find myself wanting to become like those women, who despite their vileness were slavishly adored. It is tempting to be unconditionally adored by a
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