Her words end my reverie. Miss Denise knowingly remained silent while my mind’s VCR ran the tape on Empress Suhan’s website.
“More sensory deprivation and longer intervals in four point restraint should do the trick. But don’t panic Bobby, Mae Lee will keep you well watered and offer occasional release.”
Miss Denise rises showing that polite smile of supreme confidence.
Yes, of course I will be watered. And the release... well, as noted the simple removal of a strap is what regenerates the torment... returning circulation and with it a deluge of pain to muscles and joints.
“He’ll be more comfortable deafened, Mae Lee.”
And with those words, my succubus strolls from the room.
Mae Lee places slender head phones over my ears. Then the hood is returned and I find myself in silent darkness. Gratefully I feel the anal insert deflate. I then hear the barely discernible click of the light switch and then a steady hissing sound coming through the headphones.
A new touch for Miss Denise. All senses are indeed deprived. And without the ability to move, the aforementioned endorphins and other natural opiates will begin to diminish my sense of feeling.
Cut off from all input and with Miss Denise’s suggestive questioning, I of course return myself to Bangkok, completing the chronology of my ordeal.
After that initial session with the slides, there were no more trips to the discipline room. The excruciating discomfort and humiliation of the cold water enemas and bladder irrigations ceased, the offered care of the British nurse returning to the standard physical check up and cleansing. But I continued to pose for her on the small pedestal, really the only exercise I was afforded. And of course my guards looked on quite amused when I found myself becoming erect in being so displayed.
Miss Denise returned with her case probably a week or so later. The projector was again set up as Mila’s petite hand stroked me to full erection and enshrouded my penis in the inflatable cuff. Then the chair was lowered and the lights dimmed.
We began again.
This time Miss Denise made me talk much more, describing what I saw, which of course was photographs, most professionally arranged, of pretty women in various stages of dress and undress.
Once again each set of poses was similar and once again Miss Denise monitored her case where, presumably, various instruments provided readings of my reaction.
But the slides went slower and I was encouraged to talk more. Though eager to ‘undress’ the girls, the progression would not continue until Miss Denise assured herself that she extracted from me every thought and reaction.
Then once again a curve ball was thrown. The ending slide in one sequence, the one I eagerly called for knowing that all clothing would be cast aside in the final photo, once again displayed gender obfuscation.
.. a boy made up to appear as a ravishing girl.
“Your thoughts, Bobby?”
What does one say?
There are those whose gender identification is confused. I recall suggesting to Miss Denise that perhaps the lad had playfully raided his mother’s clothes closet or that an older sister was practicing with her makeup.
Seemingly satisfied with my observation, there followed unending images of naked males... most effeminate males... and most of Asian descent. Miss Denise asked me their ages, a determination very difficult for a Caucasian to make.
Finally after an entire series, the photo of a particularly well transformed young male appeared. Someone had spent much time plucking eyebrows and highlighting the eyes with shadow and mascara. When the nude photo came, Miss Denise asked the ultimate question.
“Like to spend some time with him, Bobby? It can be arranged. He’s here in Bangkok. Surely after many weeks here you could use some company...”
As chaste as I was, erect penis brought to near climax and cuffed rather than sated, the thought still revolted. And I so stated.
Miss Denise looked at her instruments, smiled demurely and the slide projector was turned off.
Without words, her equipment was removed and packed. With an annoying pinch to my cheeks, she smiled and quietly left.
I did not see her again until the encounter in the New York bodega.
More weeks went by, according to my internal calendar, the visits to the nurse.
And then shortly after a cleansing, the guards entered with the control poles and Mila strapped my balls. I knew it could not be another session with the nurse and the only other release from my cell was to visit the discipline room. This could not be! I had cooperated! I summoned the temerity to protest... actually to plead. Why was I to be caned?
Sure enough, I was led down the hall to the most feared chamber and I recall again breaking the rule of silence in protest, grovelingly explaining that I had talked and talked with Miss Denise and another caning was unnecessary.