The Constancia Compendium

“Good morning, Mr. Dalton. It’s Dr. Corrothers. I have something for you. Something I think you’ll enjoy. It’s a little cushion.”

Despite the weeks of having his tongue clamped, stretched and strengthened for hours upon hours, he tries to speak. The words come out in a guttural gibberish and I laugh out loud. It is an irritating laugh and I am well aware of its effect.

Nurse Jasmine enters. The protocol that I have instituted on Constancia Island mandates that I do not become directly involved in the physical handling of the males. We have ample staff for that. In having others do my bidding it accentuates my authority and for the male places me on a symbolical yet psychologically important pedestal.

“Remove the clamp please, Jasmine. I think he wishes to talk to me.”

She steps over and around the various restraining cords and slips off the clamp. So agonizingly held in place...so easily and quickly removed, I think to myself.

“So perhaps you would like to use my little pillow? You may speak.”

“Yes please, ma’am.”

So polite. So succinct. I hand the cushion

to Jasmine. She knows to delay.

“Well we’re going to talk for a while and then I will need your signature. I know it will be difficult with the masturbation mittens but Nurse Jasmine will guide your hand in assisting.

“Would you like to talk to me this morning?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Very good. You’re very considerate.”

I nod to Jasmine and she gently slides the pillow under Mr. Dalton’s head. For the first time in many hours, other than brief visits from Nurse Katani, he can relax his neck muscles. There are probably tears of joy under his blindfold. The feeling of relief can surpass that of an orgasm...and throughout the morning session I will be sure he is reminded who granted it.

“Well you’re standing very nicely for me, Mr. Dalton. Tell me what you think about to produce and maintain such a stiff penis.”

Jasmine departs. I move to my chair and prepare pad and pen. We begin.

The process has been slow but on each visit Mr. Dalton has mentally slid further into an abyss of male servitude combined with a growing admiration for the Dominant female. I know the signs. I understand the symbolic stories. I can interpret has dreams better than he can.

He answers questions and unlike the early sessions there is no hesitation, no matter how humiliating or degrading the situation of which he has dreamed or about which he has fantasized. In my notes I highlight various parts of his narrative. In every story the dreaming or hallucinating Mr. Dalton is being commanded or controlled by a Dominant woman. And what is most important, upon my careful cross-examination and reflection on his part, is that he enjoys the encounters.

With every segment I ask, “And how did that make you feel? Does recalling it now arouse you?”

The recurring dream of Mrs. Dalton riding about on a white horse and whipping a naked Mr. Dalton as he runs about in a field is wonderfully symbolic. And each time he tells the story his subordinate mind embellishes it to make Mrs. Dalton more supreme, himself more abjectly subjugated, and his level of arousal and enjoyment unsurpassed.

After some two hours I broach a most important subject matter.

“You exhibited very poor behavior a few weeks ago back in New York. Fortunately we know how to modify behavior here as you are aware. Luana says you’ve become a very obedient worker.

“But Mrs. Dalton has insisted on making sure your behavior is permanently modified. And she has decided on certain physical changes. Rather severe, but I think you know it is best.

“Dr. Reinhold is highly qualified in this field. There will be no complications and you will be able to so much better live a life of loyal servitude to the Dominant woman of your dreams.”

I review the list of procedures. Unlike the piercings which after removal would heal within weeks, or the stretchings which are noteworthy but can easily be camouflaged, Mrs. Dalton has decided on various interesting alterations...all irreversible.

And for that we need Mr. Dalton’s permission. And he will give it...in writing.

There will be no day’s exercise, no frolicking under Luana’s whip, until papers consenting to certain surgical procedures and releasing the ASBM, Lady Constance and all her associates from liability are signed. And with the signature there will be no further counseling. My job is done.

I arise and step under cords securing Mr. Dalton’s ankles and over cords attached to his testicle rings. With a simple push of my boot the cushion slides from under Mr. Dalton’s head. He does not expect my brusk maneuver and the nose bridle instantly provides a jolt of pain in renewing its torment. He winces and the neck muscles resuming straining to keep the bridle cord slack.

“Nurse Jasmine will be in with a pen. A signature will earn more pillow time.”

I depart. With many members returning to Constancia Island for relaxation and to rekindle discipline training, perhaps I will see Mr. Dalton again. If not there is much good work that needs to be done elsewhere.