Sunday, 15 February 2015

The lynchean lab of Dr. Sophie (Sexologist)

An automatic sliding door lets you in. The receptionist: a delicate woman in her early 20ties, blond bob in a tailored men's suit.
“I have..” you start. She seems to be staring into space. Grey eyes.
“Hello”, you say. She still doesn't seem to see you. “I have..” you start again. She suddenly wakes up. “..an appointment with Dr. Sophie” you stumble.
“Oh! John? I have heard a lot about you.” Her voice is soft and without substance. “Take a seat.” A white room. An aquarium. The National Geographic and Psychology Today. You are a bit nervous, so you go to the loo. Instead of toilet paper, pages ripped out of a book. You recognize “50 shades of grey”. You smile and regret that you don't have to take a shit right now.
Then the scratchy loudspeaker: “John, treatment room please, John.” The politeness in that voice was 'learned', you could hear through a very different tone.
You open the door and are flabbergasted. The 'treatment room' is completely empty except two chairs and a little table. It's got a strong chemical smell and it's walls are padded with soft white material. Doctor Sophie is wearing a white lab coat loosely over a military uniform. It's got holes in it and her hair is kind of messy. And she is sweaty. You had relied on her reputation but now you have second thoughts..she hasn't suddenly gone mad, has she?
She looks straight into your eyes. With a voice cold as steel, she says: “Take of your clothes.” You start undoing your zip. She stares with an intensity that makes you feel embarrassed and exposed. “Sit down and fill in this form.” The paper has stains on it and is crumpled. You recognize a pen from a private Hotel in London. The questions were very detailed. Like “When did you first have sex?” “Was it a boy or a girl” “How old were you?” “How old were they?” “Which nationality?” “Did they make noise and if, what type?” “Did they have body hair?” “Did you cuddle afterwards?” “Did anyone hear you?” “Did you feel embarrassed?” “What exactly did you do to them?” “What did they do to you?” And then more and more questions about when you first felt sexual arousal and who was present, when you first touched yourself and how exactly you did it.
You complain “But this is endless!”
Doctor Sophie replies with all the calmness in the world: “Yes, my dear, these questions are precise. But you agreed on helping all those people who are ill and suffering. You are contributing to a significant scientific research.”
So you went on working through page number 16. All this time she had stared at you incessantly. Watched every small contraction of you facial muscles. Analysed you. Penetrated you with her eyes.
Two hours later, you had finished. Your anger kept you from feeling what was underneath: a turn on from something you didn't want to be turned on at all.
She looked at each page for no more than a second and then crammed them into the pocket of her lab coat. She laughed loudly and was clearly making fun of you.
She opened the door a crack and called: “boi!” The receptionist came in. Her hair had shifted- it was a obviously a wig- and you could catch sight of a shaved head covered with electrodes. In a sacred manner, she was carrying a steel tray with electronic devices on it. They looked like as if someone had made them in their own garage.
“Knees!”, Doctor Sophie said. Her beauteous body dropped instantly. What a devotion!
“Good boi!” Doctor Sophie padded her head with deep care.
“Boi, measure the penis width!”
The bois' delicate fingers put a laser device with a steel ruler, that had its batteries attached with tape around your shaft. “2.5” she said. “Ok. Now the arousal-metrum, boi.” The boi attached electrodes to your temples, neck, nipples, belly and bum. The boi let out a sigh when she inserted something cold into your ass. The boi covered your balls with little pricks, each one attached to a cable. Then, the boi rolled in a mortuary slab. Doctor Sophie indicated with her eyes that you were supposed to lie on it. As if hypnotized, you placed your body on the cold surface. Flexible metal, like from a knights armour, was strapped around your limbs and neck. Finally a steel cube with a hole in it big enough to put an arm through was well-placed around your cock. Your body was covered in nests of cables. “Boi, is everything connected?” The fragile woman bowed to Doctor Sophie. “Go!” You had anticipated a shock but there was no pain. “16”, Doctor Sophie was reading a meter. “Boi, you must take notes!” The assistant was sweating fear. She fiddled with her vest and pulled out a pen and then wrote “16” on her arm. Oh God, what did you get into? Were these women actually mad? “Doctor Sophie” you started “uh..can you confirm that this lab is licensed and monitored by the authorities?” Doctor Sophie held a piece of paper in front of your nose and said: “Is that proof enough?” She shrugged: “I happen to know what the head of the administration is into.” Oh, 'that' smile. She continued: “Do you really think, that I wouldn't be careful- now that the fun has just started? Do you really think, you are worth all the hassle of having someone dispose your body and clean up your files?” Now that was humiliation!
“We are down to 2”, Doctor Sophie said as if nothing had happened. The boi wrote “2” on her arm. You really were just a study object for her. You thought, you deserve a better place in the food chain. You suddenly hated it. You wanted to leave. Something told you that negotiation or blackmail were useless and freeing yourself from those straps? Impossible. The only way was to spoil it for her. Not showing any reaction. But there it was again. Fuck you couldn't help it! Below all these feelings slumbered a mighty turn on.
Sophie turned the knob. “We are up to 11”, her cold voice. The boi wrote “11” on her arm.
You tried to think about things that turn you off. Imagining ice on your cock. But it was there. Doctor Sophie crossed her legs and put them on the table. And now pulled out a bag of crisps! She seriously started eating them, while you were having the turn on of your life! She must have turned the knob again, because the feeling was actually increasing. And then she..yawned! You were bursting, your whole body was on fire. She didn't look at you. You wanted her attention so much. “Boi”, she said “have you found the receipt?” “For the taxes, Doctor?” “Yes” “No, I haven't.” “Huh..the accountant is coming in on the 21st, I think.” You were so turned on, that you could hardly listen or see. But there she was, making small talk! You wanted to shout. She had finished her crisps, got up and chucked the empty bag on the floor. She opened the door and said: “Boi, do you know if there is anything good in the cinema tonight?” She left without giving you a glimpse. Oh, how you wished you could control yourself! The last thing on earth you wanted right now was to come. But you did. You came. It was big. You shouted. While you were riding the wave, Sophie came back, ignoring you completely: “Boi, after he is finished, I want you to clean up as fast as you can.”
++disclaimer: Don't practice BDSM without professional equipment and without an introduction by a professional. All real life sessions with Dominatrix Commander Sophie are negotiated detailed beforehand and can be stopped any time with a safe-word.++

Monday, 5 January 2015

My night out with a martial artist

I went to the Military Museum in London. Don't know why on earth I started with the Holocaust. It was pretty basic, so I got bored. But then I did need a coffee. There was this woman standing at the bar. She slowly bent backwards and- fainted. Her boyfriend was just looking startled. But our hero darted from the other side of the room and caught her. He let himself fall on the floor underneath her, held her head, then turned her onto her side within a second, shouted at her in Japanese. I recognized my type of martial arts. The woman woke up.
My paper cup in my hand, I drifted over there and said: ”Rei.” He greeted back. His blue eyes stared straight into mine. He was breathing heavily and that wasn't because of the little exercise. “I am bored”, I said. “Shall we wander around the canons and other nasty little objects?” He smiled from left to right.
We were just pretending to look at the bombs, rockets and drones. Instead, we were checking out each others muscles, bones structure, movements. Scanning for weaknesses.
“Where do you live?”, I asked. “Around the corner,” he said in his broad Irish dialect. “Let's go”, I said. We walked in silence. After a while he stopped and pulled out a key from the front pocket of his tight jeans. It's a guys' flat. It smelled a bit, wasn't really clean. There was no decoration and no clutter. Things were a bit worn out, the colours dark. No TV. He doesn't spend much time here, I thought. “Your flatmate is not at home?”, I asked. I sat on a chair, disregarding the couch. He offered me beer and I pretended to drink it. He underestimates me that much, I think. That's good. I said: “Give me your spare gee. Take a shower and put yours on.” Minutes later he came in, fully in white, with his belt tied around his waist as if it was a part of his body. I had changed as well. “Walk to the bedroom”, I said. I pushed him onto the bed landing on top of him. We were so in sync, it felt like one body instead of two. “Uh”, he exclaimed in lust. “Kiss my neck”, I said. His tongue pressed passionately over my neck muscles. I felt my gee getting soaked with my pussy juices. The bastard had calculated that moment and suddenly was on top of me, squatting on my chest and pressing his thighs against my arms besides my head. “Free yourself”, he said with a fucking smile. I tried to push his legs away, but my arms weren't stronger than his legs. He inclined his upper body forward so that I couldn't reach it with my legs. I turned my body to one side so that he had to put an arm to the side to keep his balance. That was the second where my feet shot forward, locked under his armpit and I was pulling him backwards. My other leg was trying to catch him like a tentacle. He lifted my arm and twisted it sidewards. Huh! He fell for the trap. Because that meant breaking the head lock he had me in. Before he noticed, I had grabbed his legs and spread them and was now on top of him. He tried to squeeze his legs and put me into head scissors, but my elbows were preventing that. Since he couldn't win against my legs with my arms, he opened my belt with my teeth and exposed my chest. I hadn't anticipated that and my whole body was tingling. It gave him a second, in which he managed to push away my forearms with his arms. He wanted to put me in scissors, but I quickly stood up. He grabbed my calf with his hands and pushed my kneecap sideways with his sole. I had to let myself fall but while doing so kicked him in the balls. So I had a second, where his brain wasn't working. I locked his arm with my legs and pulled. He didn't want a broken arm, so he tapped. So I had one wish free. I opened his trousers and pulled them down a bit, so that he couldn't move his legs any more. I used his disappointment to turn him on his front and sat on top of him. From there it was pretty easy. I managed to fish the strap on out of my handbag. Why did I bring that to the Museum anyway? It took light acrobatic skills to put it on while I had him in a lock. He moved his head violently but that did not loosen my lock. I put my arms around his upper body, locked them and squeezed. Then, he started talking Irish, because he knew that hearing his sexy voice would weaken me. Damn, he pushed one thigh so strongly against mine, that I tripped over. But I still had his head in a lock. He gathered all his weight in his head it seemed and pushed against my left boob. I had to turn to the side, if I didn't want to get injured. But apparently that had worn him out, because I managed to pressed his arms down and push against his back. He had to let go, if he didn't want his shoulder pulled. He lied on his front and I pushed my strap-on up his ass. He was well stretched, so it didn't hurt him. He shook his upper body violently but I knew that he was enjoying it. Between our bodies a wet film. We were both breathing heavily. The strap-on pushing against my clit made me come quickly. I was pushing my hips with all my strength. I put his head in a lock. Then he exploded. Shouting loudly. And right before he finished, I came again, also shouting, seeing the first world war cannon in front of me for some reason. “What a nice trip to the museum”, he said catching his breath. “Bring me a double shot on ice”, I replied.