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word of advice ! All of my writing is intended for grownup over the age of 18 ONLY. Stories may carry strong or even extreme sexual content. All people and events depicted are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or suddenly is purely coincidental. Actions, position, and responses are fictitious ONLY and should not be attempted in material life.

If you are under the age or 18 or do not understand the difference between fantasy and reality or if you reside in any state, province, nation, or tribal district that prohibits the Reading of bit depicted in these stories, please stop reading immediately and move to somewhere that exists in the 21st century.

Archiving and reposting of this fib is permitted, but only if acknowledgment of copyright and statement of limitation of use is included with the clause. This narration is copyright ( c ) 2013 by The Technician ( Technician666 @ Gmail.Com. )

individual readers may archive and/or print single copy of this story for personal, non-commercial use. product of multiple written matter of this story on paper, disc, or other fixed data format is expressly forbidden.

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It was n't the just party I have ever attended, but it was n't the worst. The problem was that it was one of those parties that you have to attend rather than one that you want to attend. I know, you do n't have to do anything in this life except die. Everything we do is a option we make. I know I did n't really have to follow to this party or any other party. I know that ultimately, I chose to fare to this political party. But the only thing that got me through the door that night was to keep telling myself that I HAD to come to this party.

I did n't need to be there. The true statement was that I had reluctantly agreed to arrive to this item party because Shelly had batted her baby blue eyes at me and said, `` Please, W. Please, please, please come to my party Saturday night. '' Then she gave me her Hello Kitty grinning and added, `` There is somebody who really wants to assemble you. ``

That alone - `` person who really wants to assemble you '' - should get been sufficient reason for me to correct the invitation. But I did n't. Instead I said, `` What time and what kind of company ? ``

She answered, `` Starts at eight and it is a standard cocktail party with a bunch of mostly vanilla extract multitude from the university. ''

I was still not sure whether my being there was repaying a favor Shelly once did for me or storing up a party favour for some future tense needs, but in any case, I arrived at her topographic point around 8:30 to a room full of typical college-type professor, student and administrator. Well, typical if you factor in the fact that Shelly is an artist and well-nigh of her booster are artists. Shelly is somewhat famous - or perhaps I should say infamous - for her assorted `` execution art '' exhibits. A couple of them have even been featured on network `` news magazines, '' and one made national headlines when it was very noisily picketed by a group calling itself `` Citizens Against Pornographic Art. '' Shelly sent them a very nice letter thanking them for doubling the attendance at her operation that summer.

Her performance art is how I met her. She was setting up a show with a BDSM theme and sought me out as a consultant. It was entitled `` I, Masochist, '' and was supposed to consist of a series of glass cubicle with naked coeds bound in different ways with various kinds of electrodes stuck onto and into their bodies. The planning draught indicated that the fille would be wearing wide coverage thrall hoods with Lucille Ball gags and micro-mini G bowed stringed instrument that were little More than slim shoulder strap that held dildo electrodes in plaza presence and back.. It was n't clear if the ear, eye, and mouth flaps of the bondage hoods would be open or closed.

The drawings showed large push on the outside of each booth that would supposedly ensure the electrical impulsion. When you pressed the big red clitoris, Christmas Day mode lights wound around the miss and the cubicle were supposed to scud and the girl would thrash and scream convincingly. There were two other gravid clit with up and down pointer on them. If you pushed the up button, the luminance would flash brighter. If you pushed the down button, the visible radiation were dimmer. There was also supposed to be a keypad with the numbers one through ten. Whatever phone number you pushed, that is how many clip the visible radiation would winkle when you pressed the button.

Someone had referred Shelly to me. She would n't say who it was other than the fact that they were intimately comrade with, and highly satisfied with, my work. She contacted me and asked if I would be willing to look over the design for the display and make sure that they were realistic.

The drawings were very stark and very realistic. The bondage was sufferable and non- destructive for a rule human organic structure while still projecting an almost fantasy level of porn. And most of her equipment - including the tongue and ureter electrodes that were shown on a couple of the models - could be or had already been purchased over the cyberspace and were actually capable of doing exactly what she was showing it doing. I was impressed.

I did, however, have one doubtfulness and a span of suggestions for her. `` Are you going for bondage or overrefinement ? '' I asked.

'' What do you mean ? '' she replied.

'' All of your poser are totally apprenticed and gagged, '' I explained. `` That means no safewords. If this were real, they would be totally at the mercy of the somebody with the release. That is - or can be - torturing rather than a BDSM scene unless the sub and dom have a real understanding of each other. ``

I suggested that, for the sake of realism, the role model have some readily apparent safeword gimmick, perhaps a brightly colored lump that could be dropped to indicate a demarcation line threshold. If she was truly going for realism, she might even own them drop the ball once in a while during the performance and see if the mass at the controls honored the signal.

She said she would implement my thought, and then asked what else I would suggest.

'' Shelly, '' I said, trying to sound scholarly since I was talking to a full phase of the moon professor. `` Your concept is upright ..., it is very soundly ..., and it is erotic as hell. But you are reaching out to only one of the senses. ``

'' What do you think of ? '' she asked.

'' It 's all visual, '' I answered. `` And I do n't mean just here in the drawings. The models are sealed away behind spyglass. All the other locoweed are cut off from what is happening. In the real thing, there is the olfactory sensation of woman and the smell of leather and the smell of fear or foreplay or both. There is the sound of the bomber breathing - the small uptake and catches of breath as they attempt to go into the pain in the neck and sprain it into joy. Even the creaking of the chains and the sound of the leather rubbing against the restraints is a voice of a real scene. You have cut your hearing off from all of that. They might as well be watching a video screen. What you have right now is a 3D projection of a silent bondage video recording. At expert, it is a keep statue - a damned titillating living statue, but it is still only a statue and still only ocular. ``

'' What do you suggest I do ? '' she asked.

'' I would put some holes in those Plexiglas cages or use something open air that looks like the bars of a cell or reinforced chicken wire. And to up the ante, I would add auditory sensation to the shock. Make it buzz or something when they deliver the cushion. Do n't let your hearing viewpoint there passively. call for their body. create them do more than than just perforate one push button with one digit to do a pulse or change the saturation. Use a big telephone dial or handgrip like on a large water valve to turn the great power up and down. And take it hard enough to release that they have to use their whole paw or both workforce to turn it. Have something hum or bombination softer and louder, or humiliated pitched and higher pitched as they make those adjustments. Then use a shift to broach the pulses that would require that they have to use more handwriting and body gesture than just a tap of the finger. Maybe you could take in it turn like a key starting a car or pull back like a lever. Maybe even the lever could hail back until an obscure release point allowed the switch to snap forward. That way, as they are pulling it back, even they would n't be sure when the pulse would set off. All of that would pull them and their body and their mind into your show as they hear and sense and feel what they are doing or are going to do to the woman under their control. ``

I looked up from the drawings to see how my suggestions were being received. Shelly 's mouth was exposed and her breather was slightly ragged. There was a unhorse sheen of perpetration on her face. Her eyes seemed slightly out of focus.

'' I was going to ask if you could visualize what I meant, '' I said. `` But it appears obvious that you can see it in your mind and you like it. ``

She answered in a very deep throaty spokesperson, `` I can see it, and yes, I like it ! I like it a lot ! '' She shook her head to disengage herself from the visual sense of her revised work and asked, `` How much do I owe you ? ``

I told her that all I had given her was advices, and advice was cheesy. I would n't excite for the consultation since I had n't worked up any drawings or acquire dictation or done any of the typical pre-production stuff I would normally do for a client. My only charge would be a pass to the exhibit some clock time during its run.

She thanked me, and I thought that would be the end of it. A few calendar week later, however, she called again. `` W, '' she said, `` I really need your expertise on this - the variety of expertise and equipment I have to pay for. The exhibit was a smash hit this weekend, and the studio apartment wants it to run every weekend all summer. ``

'' That sounds like nifty news, '' I answered. `` So what 's the problem ? ``

'' The problem is with my models, '' she answered. `` I got their epithet from a professor who is doing sex study at the university. All six of them are actually art students here, and all six of them are truly masochists. I figured with that combination they would both interpret what I was trying to do from an art perspective and be more realistic from a pain perspective. ``

'' I 'm surprise he gave you gens from his study, '' I commented.

'' Doctor Collins did n't. '' she replied, `` I asked him if he could give me a couple of names from his study and he said that his confidentiality would n't allow for that, but he would give some of his trial run subjects my name and they could choose whether or not to get through me. He gave my name to eight young lady whom he knew to be masochists and art students. Six of them wanted to be modeling in my display. ``

'' I still do n't see the problem. '' I replied.

'' They are all art students, '' she said with some exasperation. `` Because they are art students, they say that they want a 'true performance .'They keep quoting that damned Professor Mary McCarthy who claims in all his writings and lectures that the just way operation art can be true performance and true art is if it is all true - that is veridical. ``

'' It is real bondage, '' I interjected. `` And the equipment is rattling. It would work if you hooked it up. ``

'' That 's just the degree, '' she answered. `` They are also all masochists. Because they are masochists, they want to feel some pain or it is n't really to them. They say that the frame-up is pseudo and I am just teasing the consultation with an head game of reality and teasing them with a promise of infliction. They are threatening to throw in and recount everyone that the altogether thing is a bull unless I make the system real. In other quarrel, the bondage has to be real. The shocks have to be real. It all has to be real. ``

'' Like I said, '' I replied. `` No trouble. Your equipment is all real. Just hook them up and let the great unwashed make for if that 's what they want. ``

'' One problem, '' Shelly replied. `` ... a big job. Last weekend when the controls only affected the igniter, about half the time the multitude ignored the ball bead safe signal. I even watched one man twist all the dials up to maximum after the modelling had dropped the ball. Then he pushed ten on the number pad. If one of the fille reaches a limitation, it wo n't be honored. That would be torture. Someone could even get hurt. I ca n't have that. I need your help. ``

I chuckled softly and immediately named a price. I even offered to do the facility. `` Do n't you have to consider about it ? '' she asked, somewhat startled.

'' Not at all, '' I replied. `` I sell a self-bondage safety switch that interrupts all power. It should be easy to rig in the showing. You would n't even call for the radio receiver version. In fact, the telegram might add to the event. It 's about the sizing of a tennis ball and can be any color you want it to be. If it leaves your hand, everything shuts down. You already have the models holding something, so no one will even find that anything has changed. ``

I did n't realize how ill-timed that finish statement would try to be. EVERYONE noticed that something had changed. Simulated bondage with sham pain is very different from true bondage and true pain, especially when the person receiving that pain is a true up masochist.

I installed the items the next evening and Saturday dark, the second night that the system was live, I attended the performance. I asked Shelly how it had gone the night before and she said that the exhibit looked the Saami, the girls looked the same, they even acted more or less the Sami, but that the crowd were reacting very, very differently. It had her perplexed. She could n't visualise what was dissimilar. `` I 've looked over everything and ca n't put my fingerbreadth on it, '' she said.

'' Quit looking and start listening and inhaling. '' I told her. `` I can get a line cacoethes from every cage. I could smell arousal as soon as I came in the doorway. And that odor is n't just coming from the char in the batting cage. one-half of the female in here are reacting to a pheromone and fantasy overload and creaming their panties. If a guy brought a date to this and does n't get lucky tonight, he really does n't know how to play the tremendous lineup you have given him. ``

Her eyes widened slightly as she took in what I had said. Then she nodded her head slowly, and asked, `` Can you stay until after the display ends tonight ? I have something else I want you to check out in the John Milton Cage Jr.. ``

I tried to calculate like it was some sort of sacrifice on my theatrical role to stay for the whole evening, but the reality was that the showing were having quite an core on me also. I do n't live if it was art, but it was one sin of a public presentation. One of the young lady was covered in a full moon body tattoo that intertwined vines, flaming and snake. The only seeable skin not covered with the design was on her hands. It provided quite a dividing line since none of the early girls showed any ink at all. I was sure they had no ink because I spent the evening examining their skin very closely as I watched them buck and writhe while the lights danced around them.

The tattooed lady and one early had the ureter and tongue electrodes. You could see the lean electrode protruding slightly from their pee hole like a catheter and there were conducting wire going through the safe breathing yap in the center of their ball gags. I 'm not sure exactly what type of electrode was in the oral fissure. It may have be one of the encompassing tongue clamp types or perhaps there were just metal strips on the bollock gag. All of the models had anal and vaginal electrodes as well as early surface electrodes on several division of their consistence. One manakin, a somewhat older fair sex in her mid to late twenties even had light up nipple weights dangling from each boob that obviously applied shocks directly to the nipples each time they flashed.

I have to allow in that the titillating effect of six nubile young charwoman in to the full pain bondage was very mighty. The fact that all six were basically anonymous somehow heightened the experience. Four of the models were wearing full coverage bondage bonnet. One of the cap was sealed. The other three had the eye, and ear curtain raising unsealed and red ball gags seeable in the mouth opening.. All four were standing with their bridge player extended and restrained above their read/write head by chains that attached to the top nook of the John Cage. Their feet were feast wide and held in place by leather restraints that were attached to the outer bulwark of the cage.

The two remaining models may or may not make been wearing punk, but it was unimaginable to say because their top dog were not visible. One was standing upright with her head and hands held in situation in hollow like you would find in a set of stocks, except these holes went through a low ceiling in the Cage. The area above the ceiling was dark plexiglass so it was not possible to see her head. Since a set of conducting wire went through the roof future to her decently hand, I assume she was holding a safety replacement, but her hands were also concealed behind the sour plexiglass. The inside surface of the ceiling was covered in a night velvet or felt so that her body seemed to end at the lightlessness. She was just a defenseless, headless soundbox writhing in a Cage. The other good example was in a like restraint, but instead of her forefront and hands being concealed in the top of the Cage, she was bent over at the waist in a much low cage, and her drumhead and hired hand were held in place through one side of the cage. This was the manikin with the dangling light-up mammilla weight. Again, the area on the other side of the restraint rampart was masked in dark plexiglass, and the upcountry side was covered in inkiness velvet. Her cunt, which was very visible, was wet and gaping.

I stopped for quite a patch to observe one very blue-eyed female child sway and writhe with the pulses as the luminosity flashed around her. Her very clip and muscled torso was bathed in a sheen of perspiration as she jerked and swayed and strained against her control. Despite the fact that she had the full electrode handling, including wired titty clamps and an electrify pee hole, I could tell from the muffled grunts coming around the shining red ball gag that she was saying `` More, more, to a greater extent, more, '' each time the shocks hit. When the shocks stopped she would buck and grind the air uselessly trying for rubbing to strike her over the top.

I went over to her coop and waited for a very sweaty fraternity boy to finish playing with the control condition. I turned the telephone dial up to maximum and pressed 22 on the keypad. Since I programed it, I knew that the 2 clit was an override and was n't limited. 99 was the large bit allowed by the system and I had thought about having the 9 as a bypass key, but 99 seemed to be a bit often if things were set on utmost. I pulled back the electric shock lever and when it went `` twang '' and released, she began bucking and trashing.

When the pulses went retiring ten, her heart changed, and I could see that she was trying to smile around her gag. She rolled back her head word and closed her center as she swayed with the seismic disturbance which were biting her ass and twat and nipples as well as her pee hole, lip, ass cheeks, and the amphetamine muscularity on her thighs. Somewhere around 19 or 20 she threw her head fully back, let out a hanker, pass groan and hung slack in her restraints. Juices were literally flowing down the insides of both of her legs.

At first of all I was a bit interested that I had overdone it, but then I noticed that the only brawn that had not gone quagmire after her sexual climax were the muscles of her right script. She was still tightly clutching the drop cloth safety firmly in her fist. I gave her a ace pulsation at low energy and she opened her eyes and looked at me. I smiled at her, and her sass formed - as skillful they could around the gag - `` Thank you. ``

As I turned away from the coop, I could see a Whitney Moore Young Jr. womanhood leaning back against the rampart in the congenator darkness away from the displays. Her metrical foot were braced against the floor and she had her hand down the front man of her slack water. She was breathing rather loudly in that deep, recovering- from-an-orgasm kind of way. Her face flushed dark red as she caught my eye, and she quickly pulled her hired hand from her waistcloth and stepped rather unsteadily away.

The appearance closed at 1:00 am. I helped Shelly and her assistant release the girls from the `` stages '' on which they had performed. Shelly introduced me to each of them and explained that I was the one who had rigged the equipment and designed the prophylactic interrupt. The girl with the bright blue center said, `` What I really needed was a control to run the jar higher. The only time I was able to get off was when you overrode the system somehow. ``

I said, `` I could readjust the programming to admit audience phallus to train it up to 25 rather than 10. ``

terzetto of the missy said, `` delight do it ! '' The other three said, `` No ! I could n't stand that. ``

I compromised and said `` Shelly knows who is in which John Cage. I will alter three of them. But I am resetting the nullification on those to the number 5 rather than the number 2, so if you see me outside your cage, you might be in for 55 rather than 25. ``

'' I 'll risk it, '' answered the blue-eyed blond.

'' Could n't you make it the 3 ? '' said one of the former two.

'' Maybe I will just set off the remote on it so I can plug in any act I want from my phone. That way Shelly does n't make to worry about soul accidentally overriding thing. ``

All six missy smiled at me and said, `` Thank you. ``

After they had left, I told Shelly that it would only aim me a few moments to make the programming modification to the pads. She answered, `` Then I want you to do something for me. ``

'' Anything within grounds, '' I said, and began programming the diggings. By the time I had finished with the sixth pad, I could no longer hear Shelly doing whatever it was that she was finishing up at the former end of the studio apartment. After the last pad, I walked toward the back of the gallery and stopped. An additional cage had been moved into the very back of the studio ..., and there was someone in it.

I walked over to the John Cage and there was a Federal Reserve note taped to the computer keyboard. It read, `` W, I have to feel what this is like. I ca n't be in here during the performances because I have to be available to meet the citizenry. I want you to take me to my limits and beyond. And then I want you to make love me while I am still in thraldom. That is the functioning I had truly imagined when I first conceived this idea, but there is no way that kind of art could ever be publicly displayed - at to the lowest degree not in this town. ``

I took my clip to apprize the way that Shelly had bound herself - or more likely had allowed someone to tie down her in the Booth. Her peg were encased in thigh-high boots that were laced up the position and appeared to be solidly attached to the floor of the cage. Her arms, encased in tight- fitting leather gloves that reached almost to her shoulder joint, were stretched mellow above her headway and held widely apart on a spreader bar that was mounted firmly on a sloped across the top of the John Cage. The black on her blazon and leg highlighted the paleness of the skin of her belly. She did n't have ureter or mouth electrodes, but there were wired ass and pussy dildos held in place with the thin black-market leather straps of the supposed G string. In improver, black public square contact lens electrodes were clearly visible on either side of each teat as well as a duet on each ass face. There was no way that she got herself into this, and there was no way that she could get herself out of it unless someone released her.

She was wearing a wax reporting bondage punk. The flaps over the centre and mouth were closed. From the bulge, it appeared that there was also a ball gag under the closed mouth opening. The ear flaps were not closed, but there was a smart red ear plug in each ear that seemed to be held in shoes with soft wax.

There was nothing in her script, so I looked for the rubber free fall. She had insisted I supply a fifth wheel, and I now realized that it must have been for this stage. It was on the storey of the John Cage, securely wrapped in tape, obviously intentionally disabled. She was unplayful when she said that she wanted me to take her to her limits and beyond.

I spent the future hour and a one-half playing her body like a fine musical comedy instrument. Since I had a outside that did Thomas More than just change the routine of pulses - which was not limited on the remote, I varied the frequency and added ramp variation to both the amplitude and frequency of the shocks. I also adjusted the congeneric timing so that the pulse hit her slit a fraction of a second - or even a full second - before or after it hit her chest. I also tried the shower outcome that hit her ass cheeks, ass, pussycat and then breasts in speedy sequence. And all the while, I kept her just short-change of climax. If it looked like she was going to cum, I backed off the intensity to minimum for a couple of unit of ammunition. She was pouring sweat and grunting and thrashing so violently that the cage was swaying slightly as she moved. Then she started yelling into her gag. It was impossible to tell for sure what she was saying, but it sounded an awfully lot like `` Please ! Please ! Please ! Please ! Let me cum ! Let me cum ! ``

Finally, I had pathos on her - well not so practically finally having pity on her as finally giving in to my own want. I set the shock point to the lowest setting and the number on the remote control to 999 and stepped into the cage with her. I removed the strap that held the front line dildo in place and pulled it from her sopping cunt. Then pulling her toward me and crouching down slightly, I impaled her with my rock-hard member.

I could feel the slim tingling of the shocks as I stood there. Shelly immediately began pumping her rose hip and rocking against me. I ended up just reaching out with my deal and steading myself against the sides of the cage as she rode me violently standing up. She had asked me to fuck her while she was still in bondage, but the Truth is that she was fucking me. I stood there and let her devolve on me as I went with her to a very strong orgasm.

When we finally finished, I stepped out of the cage and shut off the heart rate. I let Shelly hang there, totally limp, for another five minutes or so before I re-entered the cage and began releasing her from the bondage. The go thing I did was to remove the hood and gag.

'' The Hell with meeting the populace, '' she said emphatically after her mouth was clear. `` Next workweek I am going to be in the 7th cage. ``

Her display ran for the rest of the summer, and yes, there were seven cages every Fri and Saturday Night. They even added a William Ashley Sunday matinee toward the end of the summer. Somehow the idea of BDSM performance art as a Lord's Day matinee seemed odd to me, but the gallery was filled to overflowing every Lord's Day afternoon.

In the fall, shoal resumed at the university and Shelly returned to teaching classes. The modelling must have told some of their fellow pupil about the John Cage, because I did have a bustle of fiat for the guard switch. Either a significant figure of the coeds were into self-bondage or they had boyfriends that they did n't totally trust with full-of-the-moon control condition of electronic stimulation.

Then Shelly dropped by and invited me to her party, and I agreed. As I looked around the room full of citizenry, I had a pretty good idea exactly who it was that Shelly wanted me to meet. There was one older valet who looked totally out of place.

It was n't just that he was dressed differently from anyone else there. He had that forced casual kind of look that happens when a really up-tight suit dresses down to mingle with the masses. And it was n't just that he had an too well-groomed goatee that was so obviously coloured dark. Primarily it was that he was n't a part of the party. He was observing the party. He looked and acted exactly like a therapist waiting for a chemical group sitting to end up its greeting clip and get down to business.

After fortifying myself with a half-glass of dark ale, I walked over to him and said, `` You must be Dr. Collins. I assume you are the soul that Shelly said wants to meet me. ``

He looked startled, but answered, `` Yes ..., yes, that 's why I 'm here ..., to adjoin you. You must be ... ...'W .''' He said my name like it was distasteful to him.

'' You do n't like the fact that I go by my initial, do you ? '' I asked him.

He answered, `` No. I 'm sorry. It just seems artificial and contrived. ``

'' It 's a longsighted fib, '' I answered. `` I got stuck with it way back in rate shoal and there are some things that are with you forever. ``

He smiled back. Evidently we had gotten over whatever his hangup was with the alphabet.

'' So, what do you need from me ? '' I asked.

'' I understand that you write stories, '' he said. `` I 've read some of them ... to the highest degree of them - at least as many as I could find with an internet hunt. '' He paused as if thought process of how to phrase his future comments. `` And I understand that you have met Shelly 's mannikin and they are imprint with you. ``

'' I do n't love if I impressed them, but yes, I have met them. ``

'' I would wish you to interview them and write their floor, '' he said. `` Would you be bequeath to do that ? ``

'' Why ? '' I replied. `` They are a voice of your inquiry plan. You already know their stories. ``

'' But they lie to me, '' he answered with a touch of foiling and a little whimper in his voice. `` I know they do. They withhold things and alteration affair to what they think I want to listen. Or they just play with me out of spite. They think that I am judging them or something and so they are n't open with me. ``

'' That 's because you are judging them, '' I answered. `` You are probably studying them because you think that they are puke or degenerate, and they can sense that. ``

'' I ca n't change who I am, '' he responded rather defensively. `` But I do care about them, and I think that we need to eff more about what makes a masochist a masochist. If you can get them to open up up and tell you their taradiddle, I can use what they tell you in the stories to better understand them. ``

'' Why do you want to do this ? '' I asked. He shifted his head back and Forth River for a here and now before opening his mouthpiece to suffice me. I could secernate I was going to get a practice, canned result, so I cut him off with, `` distinguish me the Sojourner Truth or I walk out of here and you never see me again. ``

He bristled, but answered rapidly, `` Because I no longer think they are unbalanced or degenerate. ``

'' Wife or girlfriend ? '' I asked.

'' Me, '' he answered, coloring a little and looking down at the trading floor. `` With my wife - it only happened once. We were both more than a little tipsy and started making out in the sustenance room like a couple of stripling. After a poor while, we were both naked. As we were starting to get into some thick kissing, she could taste cigarettes on my oral cavity. I had promised her I would quit smoke and had told her that I had. She suddenly said, 'If you are going to behave like a child, I am going to treat you like a child !'Then she pulled me across her lap and started spanking me with her slipper. ``

'' It hurt like sin at firstly, but then suddenly it did n't hurt. It felt good. In fact, it was some of the most intense delight I had ever felt. My wife and I tried some spanking play a match of times after that, but it just hurt. Neither of us really want to try it again, but after that I realized that it is n't that a masochist likes, or penury, to find hurt - at least not all of them. Something happens and for some rationality a masochist 's body interprets pain as pleasance. I want to larn how and why that happens. ``

He looked up at me as if he was expecting me to say something. I remained quiet down and he whined, `` But they wo n't state me the Truth ! How can I get any insight into what might be going on in their bodies or minds if they wo n't tell me the truth ? ``

He stared at me with pleading center and asked, `` Would you do this for me ..., and for them ? Will you talk to these six girls and write their stories ? The level would probably be worthy of posting or publishing, and I would birth datum that I otherwise could n't get. ``

I took a deep intimation and answered, `` OK. Let me recollect about it. But you ca n't set up ANY of this. It all has to be set up through Shelly. And the female child need to cognize that I will be publishing the information so that the whole earth - including you - would have access to it. If I do this, I will change their name calling and early pertinent information, and I do n't secern you who is who unless they all agree to it after I have completed my fib. ``

He smiled at me and answered, `` Agreed. Now, if you do n't mind, I think I will leave. I really am not comfortable in situations like this. ``

As he got up and walked toward the threshold, I wondered to myself why it was that the therapist and shrinks always seemed to have to a greater extent hangups and job than any of their patient. I let that thought fade away as Shelly walked up to me. `` Having fun ? '' she asked.

'' Not yet, '' I answered. `` But the party is still untested. ``

'' And there is prison term for more fun after the company is over, '' she stated with a smiling. `` I sort of marvel what it would be like to have rule sex with you ?'

'' All sex is rule, '' I replied. `` Some of it just takes a little more work to get out off. ``

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END CHAPTER ONE OF EIGHT
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