Merciless Medical Mayhem

Mar 4, 2015

Finding a slave's most secret fears and using them mercilessly against him is all part of my Dominatrix armoury, and I deployed that to the full this week to re-programme an owned slave who was becoming a little too big for his pathetically-small boots. I'd detected the first signs of sulkiness and even a trace of rebellion in this slave's attitude so, naturally, some drastic action was required to beat him back into total and unquestioning devotion and submission. It is always the same with these subbies: you give them an inch and they take a yard: you show them the occasional sign of kindness and they forget their lowly place in their Mistress's existence. Well, not at Hanwell Towers they don't! I know this particular slave well and so I knew that the slightest hint that I am going to impose breath control is enough to make him start to shake and break out in a nervous sweat. For that reason I made certain that he was strapped down securely on the medical bench before telling him exactly what I was going to do to break his will and punish him for his growing misbehavour in recent days. I could see the fear mounting in his eyes as I explained that he was to be medicated untill he was helpless and then taught the true meaning of breath control at the hands of his already-irritated Mistress. There was not a lot he could do about it because he was not only in a tight leather strait-jacket but his neck was also collared and tied down to the bench in a way that permitted no head movement whatsoever as I attached the anaesthetic mask to his face and began pumping medication into his pathetic body. I think that he was trying desperately to apolgise for his behaviour, but I couldnt really hear him from beneath his mask - and I couldn't have cared less anyway, because once I've decided on my intended course of treatment, no pleas for mercy or entreaties that he will 'do better' in future is ever going to deflect me... and anyway I was having a lot of fun watching his mounting terror and observing his increasingly frantic wriggles against the bonds that were holding him. Just for the hell of it, I turned the electrics on his butt-plug and testicle terminals a little higher, so that he had something really painful to distract him from his fear. Once I could see that the medication was taking effect and he was floating away into a state that makes him deeply receptive to my will, I started his breath control... gently at first with plenty of time to recover between each bit of fun... but gradually increasing the severity until he was on the point of real tears. Then I got out the lightweight plastic bag and simply waved it in front of his eyes! It might not sound very scarey, but this wretch knows my plastic bags very well and also knows that the lighter the bag, the more easily it sucks down into his only breathing tube... until I choose to remove it. We had such fun for an hour or so playing the 'counting game,' which i know this subbie fears above all else. The rules are simple: I put the bag on him and pick a random number in my head to count out loud before the bag can be removed. The beauty is, of course, that the slave has no idea whether the count will go on till number 5... or 9... or 17 (... or 167.. if he has really pissed me off!!) Suffice it to say that my slave did survive the experience and emerged a chastened, more obedient, less needy and far better behaved slave than he has been lately. I know he is utterly devoted to me and trust that he will now set about proving that my hard discipline work this week has not been in vain. Mistress always knows best... and I think that this time he will never forget that. A job well done! Bookmark and Share