Pin Cushion

Apr 14, 2014

How many Mistresses does it take to change a light-bulb? (None of course… that’s what domestic slaves are for) How many Mistresses does it take to pierce 265 needles into the human pincushion skin of a willing subbie victim? The answer is TWO; just me and my good friend and fellow medical-Mistress, lady Annisa.

Our double-domme day at Hanwell Clinic had barely started this week when the alcohol swabs and sterilised needles were out in force to satisfy our joint desire to see and hear some slaves suffer for our art. What started as a decision to multi-pierce the poor, tortured nipples of a slave strapped to my medical bench, soon developed into a needle-fest that not only left him as a whimpering wreck of a man but also produced a stunning work of art soon to be seen on my private club site at

Now I wouldn’t say I was competitive (I’ll leave that for others to say) but I was determined not to let the nursing skills of the lovely Lady Annisa outshine me in the needle-placing department. Therefore, whilst she busied herself suturing up my slave’s abdominal skin and scrotal sac into a perfectly-formed ‘Mangina,’ I got on with puncturing his nipples with as many needles as I could crowd into his two little, manly chest-buds. I was pleased with the fortitude of my subbie who uttered barely a groan as needle after needle was popped through each nipple until his chest looked like he had encountered an angry porcupine determined to make him suffer. My end tally was a pleasing 265 needles in total, all stabbed through his skin with the exposed points safely held in a restraining cork: we wouldn’t want any slave to prick himself now, would we… that’s my job.

In the meantime, lady Annisa was demonstrating her own skills with a needle by successfully folding my slave’s cock beneath the skin of his own ball-sac and suturing the resultant folds of skin together to form a passable, if slightly bulging, imitation of a lady’s pussy slit. In retrospect it may be that my slave was not quite as stoic as I had thought while I was puncturing his nipples; perhaps he was just more concerned about the creation of his new ‘Mangina’ and whether we would ever release his trapped penis from its new hiding place. He little knew at that stage that his torment had barely started and that we two Mistresses were about to almost exhaust my clinic’s massive stock of sterilised needles.

Drawing an artistic little creation on the skin of his chest and abdomen – roughly following the line a pathologist cuts into bodies at a post-mortem – we started piercing more and more needles into a long line down his body. Blue needles and green needles alternated each other along the way and there were, to be honest, a few re-insertions to ensure absolute symmetry, something of an obsession with me as my regular clients will testify. That added another xx surgical needles into his already much-tormented skin; but that still wasn’t enough, something was missing. In a flash of artistic inspiration I realised what it was: most good artists sign their work and Lady Annisa and I clearly needed to do the same.
The two huge letters ‘M’ and ‘A’ that we needle-painted onto each of our patient’s inner thighs marked the work unmistakably as ours and also seemed a fitting tribute to all our efforts and the fun we had with numerous slaves on the day that Lady Annisa came to call. Our final grand total was xx needles, still some way short of my world record insertions of xx into a single guy. Annisa has told me since that she is determined to match and surpass that record on her next visit to see me in London. She even has our hapless next victim earmarked for the attempt – but I shouldn’t spoil the surprise by revealing his name: after all, as they say in the Lottery ad, “It could be YOU.”

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