Time and Transmogrification

Feb 21, 2013

“Time flies when you’re having fun,” they say. So sometimes it is wonderful to have as much time as one needs to fully explore all the vast range of fun and games that can be found within the walls of Hanwell Towers and in the depths of my kinky, creative imagination. A long, long session is always a real treat, not only for the sub receiving my full attention, but also for me because it gives me the opportunity to explore lots of games that are not viable within the length of a standard appointment. There is not enough space in this blog to detail all of the individual practices I engaged in when one of my subs recently booked a multi-hours slot, but, as always, the best place to start is perhaps at the beginning. Knowing that we had all the time in the world to play, my mind went into overdrive as soon as my sub arrived for his long hours of torment. I decided then and there that I would transform this respectable male pillar of business society into a helpless rubber slut who was perfectly conditioned to accept my total control of his mind and his body. “Transmogrification,” which my dictionary defines as the process of complete, and usually extreme or grotesque, change from one state or form to another, sums up exactly what my aim would be.


My sub had already indicated that he wanted to hand over total control to me, for me to play with him just as I liked and to mould him into my submissive creature. He has long believed that he and I have a connection and that I intuitively know the correct games and practices that will be best for his submissive wellbeing. From the start I had this vision of this experienced sub stretched out on my upstairs bondage table, ready, waiting and willing for my long-gloved hand to slide itself slowly and deeply into his rectum. Accepting and welcoming my fist into his arse would be a sign of his complete transformation and submission to my will. So that, I decided, would be both the start and the end of my journey and all that we did would be crafted towards gradually coercing my sub into total abandonment of himself and total acceptance of my control.


To that end I decided on a targeted programme of medical games, each more intrusive and more humiliating than the last, building towards the point where his mind was mine. First, of course, it was necessary to strip away the last vestiges of his high-status business life and so his casual-day clothes were soon replaced with my choice of dungeon attire. I had selected a rubber corset, stockings and high heels which instantly transformed him into the rubber slut that I knew he secretly wanted to be. Although I am condensing hours of psychological and physical change into just a few words, a small taste of the games we played will, perhaps suffice to share the journey of change that my patient experienced.
Once in the medical clinic, I began with the promised deep fisting, slowly working my entire hand further and further past his anal sphincter until he could feel nothing but fullness in his rectum and every slight movement to uncurl my fingers brought him more and more intense sensations. I inserted a catheter to give me control of his bladder and prevent any irritating urge to urinate interfering with our time together. Inflatable plugs in his rear and a retention enema were next on my treatment list. It allowed me to pump sufficient fluid into his body but gave the sub no chance to relieve the pressure and expel the contents until I decided the time was right.


Once the catheter bag began to fill up with his urine – a process over which he had no conscious control – I decided that a little recycling was in order. I know that many slaves crave the taste of my golden nectar but it adds an extra layer of dehumanising humiliation when it is not my piss they are fed but their own: that clearly was what was needed in this case. As he was enjoying (or not) his drink I distracted him a little from the sensation by carefully suturing threads through each of his nipples. Such sutures are so useful when I need long-term control. It is not only the pain of the needles and the thread pulling through sensitive skin which starts to bend a sub to my will: it is also the continuing pain as I tension the threads and tie them to some suitable fixing point to ensure a continual pulling on the now-sensitised little buds.
As the long session continued and I could see this sub bending towards – but never past – his breaking point, I brought in a little pleasure and reward programme, utilising both my fantastic human milking machine and then the Venus wanking machine to pump and stimulate his cock. In case he started to enjoy the sensations too much, I decided to add a selection of collars tight around his neck to add to his feelings of restriction and helplessness. The treatment continued for hours, brainwashing and reprogramming this slave until he could finally take no more. It was but the work of a moment to slightly speed up my machines and watch as he could do nothing other than explode in the sucking mouth of the Venus tube. My plan to take over this sub’s mind had come to its carefully-planned fruition. His fate as my sub was decided.

 

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