Divinity Lessons_Volume I

Divinity Lessons: Volume 1

A collection of female domination-themed stories from

Contemplating The Divine

© Servitor, 2013

Introduction ... 0

Fairy tales and parodies ... 1

New endings for old favourites ... 2

All the better… ... 5

Tomorrow’s World – today! ... 9

Air Divine ... 14

Serena and Alice ...20

Chopped and changed ... 21

Crossed wires ... 23

Love among the test tubes ... 28

Contemplating the Divine started as a story blog. For several years, I had been writing short stories to amuse a dominant lady whom I had the honour of visiting from time to time, and I thought others might be amused by them too.

After the first post or two, though, I tried some captioned images and things really took off. I’ve now done about a thousand captioned images. So, a lot of people know Contemplating the Divine as a captions blog, and it’s even listed in some places for ‘images’. Nothing wrong with that, although none of the images are ‘mine’ in any meaningful sense. But I thought it might be useful to collect the stories I had

published on the blog together, as a downloadable PDF. Almost like a real book… I was surprised at quite how many stories there were: 130 pages with fifty thousand words. That’s halfway to a PhD thesis… but with less social value. I have therefore split the stories into two volumes. The stories are divided into four main sections:

In this volume:

 Fairy tales and parodies (4 stories)

 Serena and Alice (4 stories) In volume II:

 Mistress Valeria and Sandra (9 stories)

 Miscellaneous stories (11 stories)

As the disclaimer on the blog says, none of this is intended to be realistic or life-like in any way. Actually, most are intended to be wildly unrealistic, some poke fun at the clichés and stereotypes in femdom porn and some are just silly. If any of that offends you, you don’t have to read them, do you? And similarly if you’re offended by things like humiliation, punishments, torture and gratuitous cruelty. But having got this far, you probably are into those things, aren’t you?

I hope you enjoy them. I don’t charge anything for any of this, but if you like the stories, do come and say hello in the comments section of my blog.

“Servitor” April 2013

Fairy tales and parodies

All rather silly tales, mostly trying to subvert the hero/heroine dynamic of fairy tales, or just place female domination tropes into ‘vanilla’ settings. I love doing these, and I am currently working on a rather extensive Sherlock Holmes series, in which the great detective is a sub, in a female dominated world, and Watson his domme…

New endings for old favourites

Sometimes the endings of fairy tales need a little modification, to bring them into line with modern conceptions of male/female roles...

from Snow White and the seven dwarves

My my, such a dear little house, but you really don’t clean it properly, do you?” said Snow White.

“Would you like me to help out around the place and get it all spick and sparkling span for you?

“Yes, yes!” chorused the seven dwarves, even Grumpy forgetting himself enough to join in with enthusiasm

“Well then, here’s my dear little whip!” said Snow White, with a merry laugh. “Now, start cleaning up this mess and if it isn’t spotless by suppertime, well, there’ll be seven darling little beaten bottoms at bedtime, now, won't there?”

from Beauty and the Beast

“So if your true love kisses you before the last petal falls, you resume your true form as a handsome prince? gasped Belle, staring at the wilting rose.

“Yes” replied the hapless beast.

“One kiss and all of this castle and kingdom will be restored as it was before I was enchanted, and I will assume the throne. But if the petal falls first, I remain a beast for ever, without even the power of speech that I have now.”

The two gazed at the rose, in its glass case. Having perhaps been disturbed by their footsteps on entering the room, the last petal drooped gently down, hanging on to the stem by the merest thread.

From Cinderella

The Prince held the glass slipper in one hand and with the other gently supported Cinderella's foot as it slipped delicately inside. It was a perfect fit.

He looked up adoringly at the golden-haired vision of loveliness seated in the chair in front of him.

“I knew such a divine creature as you was not born to labour all day in rags” he breathed. “From this day forward you shall live in a palace, as is your right.”

Cinderella smiled and nodded gently with satisfaction. Behind her, there was a swirling in the air and her Fairy Godmother appeared.

The Prince hardly noticed, as his gaze was drawn back down to the glass slippers. The perfect crystal of which they were made concealed nothing of the feet inside. An elegant ankle was gently cradled by the rim of the shoe, within which Cinderella’s

feet arched delicately down to where her toes lay gently clasped within the transparent material of the shoes. The toes wriggled slightly, and – drawn by an impulse he had never felt before – the Prince’s head slowly inclined forward as he

bent down to kiss them.

“What are you doing?” he heard Cinderella enquire, sharply.

He looked up in some confusion.

“I…I’m kissing the dear feet of my bride to be” he replied, awed at the cold beauty of her face.

Cinderella laughed, and kicked him sharply in the chest.

“Bride? I’m not going to marry you, you idiot. Marry a man? Nasty, sweaty hairy things. Never.”

And she gazed affectionately up at her fairy godmother, who reached down and gently stroked her hair. She clasped the outstretched hand in hers, and brought it softly to her lips.

“But…but…don’t you want to live in a palace?” the Prince stammered in confusion.

“Of course I do” she replied, scornfully. “But not by marrying you. That wasn’t the deal at all – was it Fairy G? Not in this fairy tale.”

And the Fairy Godmother shook her head, laughing, then waved her wand thrice around and the room filled with purple light.

When the Prince’s eyes recovered, he was amazed at the transformation that he saw. Above him, in the chair was Cinderella but now dressed as a prince in a suit – his suit! – of jewelled finery. She stood up, admiring her clothing with satisfaction. He looked down at his own clothing in confusion. He was in rags, wearing nothing but a torn and faded dress, with an apron tied around it. A gentle draught blew through the room as a servant opened the door for Cinderella to leave, and he felt the cold running through him as it curled around and under his skirt, chilling the

unprotected regions beneath.

Cinderella turned to look at him. “The cleaning materials are all in the cupboard below the stairs” she smiled. “You’ll find it easily enough – it’s where you sleep.”

She turned to one of her servants (his servants!). “I think I want to interview all of those young ladies we’ve been seeing, all over again. Have them brought to my bedchamber. Let’s say…two, no make it three of them each night.”

And with that, she swept out of the room and the Prince was left alone, kneeling on the floor. But he was not alone for long, as the door to the hall was flung open.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING LOAFING AROUND THERE!? IF WE’RE NOT MARRYING THE PRINCE, THAT AT THE VERY LEAST WE CAN LIVE IN A HOUSE THAT’S PROPERLY CLEANED, CAN’T WE? AND WHAT HAVE YOU DONE ABOUT OUR DINNER?”

The Prince looked up, to see the two rather statuesque ladies of the house who had earlier tried the slipper, standing before him. He opened his mouth to speak, but he found it had gone dry. He looked from one unsmiling sister to the other. Both were holding whips.

And Cinderella lived happily ever after. And so did the Prince, really, little pervert that he is.

All the better…

“Goodbye mother!” Red Riding Hood called out gaily, and headed off into the forest, swinging his basket as he went. He was off to visit his auntie, because his poor dear mother was too tired to beat him properly, and without a good paddling every few days, little Red just couldn’t help getting up to the most awful mischief. He

hadn’t been paddled for almost a week now, and his exhausted mother had taken just one look at the stained sheets in his bedroom and packed him off to auntie May’s, with a selection of leather and wooden paddles in his little basket.

She was glad that he was finally about to receive a bottom appropriate to his name, but Red’s mother knew that there was a dangerous dominatrix who lived in the woods through which he had to pass, and warned him not to talk to any strange women. Except his auntie, obviously.

So Red went skipping along the path, stopping once or twice to play with himself by the side of the road. But although he was almost permanently horny, he was a good boy at heart and dutifully recorded each ejaculation in the little punishment book he was carrying, to show his auntie. He knew that he was being particularly bad, as his mother had warned him not to stop at all along the way, for fear of the dominatrix. But Red’s urges were simply too pressing, and anyway despite living alongside the forest all his life, secretly he didn’t believe in the big bad dominatrix, who would lock you up for life, make you scream for her pleasure and do dreadful things to your most sensitive parts. He thought she was just a story mothers told their sons and husbands, to get them to bend over quietly for a spanking.

Anyway, this time he certainly didn’t meet a dominatrix, or anyone else and soon he arrived at his auntie’s cottage. It was years since he’d seen her. He supposed her daughter Jenny, his cousin, was all grown up now, like him. Even as a teenager, when they had last met, she had beguiled him with her long dark hair and her soft lips. The thought made him consider disappearing behind a bush for as few minutes, but he decided instead it was better to get it over with (and, in truth, he was rather

concerned about how much correction the sins already listed in his little book would entail), so he nervously knocked and the door and waited for a response.

After a few moments, the door slowly swung open, and Red peered uncertainly into its dark interior. He could see nothing except a hall extending away into blackness.

“Come in!” he heard, in a deep but sensuously feminine voice. It seemed to be coming from the very end of the hall, so he gingerly entered the house and tiptoed forward. As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he could see that the voice had emanated from a door, lightly ajar ahead of him at the very end of the hall. He advanced

towards it, and raised his hand nervously to knock.

“I said come IN, boy!” the voice rapped out, this time with a distinct air of irritation. Red gulped, and pushed the door open quickly and steeped through.

Inside, through the gloom, he could dimly make out a figure seated in a chair at the far end of the room. The chair was raised up on a platform, like a throne, and

around it and on the walls hung dark and menacing shapes. He started backwards in shock.

“Who are you, and what do you want?”, the figure in the chair asked in a silky, seductive voice – the impatient air of command gone now.

“Er…it’s Red” he stuttered in reply. “Little Red, here for a spanking from my aunty, with a basket full of paddles.”

“I see” the figure said. “Well, it’s nice to see you again, Red. Do you have your punishment book? Bring it here and we can get started.”

“Yes, err… Auntie?” Red replied. He tottered forward slowly. His eyes were becoming accustomed to the darkness, and soon he could make out some details of the figure he was approaching. She was wearing long black leather boots, that went up at least to her thighs as there was not a trace of leg to be seen.

“What big boots you have, auntie”, he remarked, desperately trying to break the oppressive silence.

“All the better to crush you under, my dear” the seated figure replied, pleasantly, and Red’s gaze instinctively flinched away to her arms. She was holding a cane, and flexing it easily between two deceptively slim arms.

“What strong arms you must have, auntie” he croaked, his mouth suddenly dry. The figure laughed gently. “All the better to thrash you with, my dear” it replied, softly.

Finally, the boy’s eyes met hers: dark eyes that sparkled with amusement in a face of utter perfection, framed under a leather cap.

“What big eyes you have, err…auntie?” he gasped.

“All the better to watch you suffer, my dear” she replied with a smile, getting to her feet. “Now – down on your knees and kiss my boot.”

Red felt his legs collapsing under him, and he frantically jerked his head to one side to break free of the fascinating, mocking gaze. In doing so, he found himself looking at the wall, and suddenly realised what he was looking at there. It was a naked figure, apparently a woman in her late 50s, chained tightly to the wall by her ankles and her wrists. Her mouth was gagged, small shiny clips seemed to be attached to her nipples and from between her legs, several wires snaked down, to vanish into an evil-looking electronic device beside her. She was frantically jerking her head from side to side, and the gentlest whimpering sounds emerged through the gag as she thrashed about.

“Auntie!” Red gasped with shock, recognising her despite her peculiar

predicament. He looked back at the figure standing before him in horror. “What have you done to her, you evil witch? And where’s Jenny?”

The dark lady burst out laughing. “Where’s Jenny? Oh Red, did I really make so little impression on you? And there was I thinking the tent-pole in your shorts was for me when you visited that time.”

“J-jenny?” Red asked, wonderingly. “B-b-but what are you doing to our dear auntie?”

“Oh, just a little game to while away the long nights here in the forest”, Jenny said, casually. “Sometimes she needs rather…severe measures.” She gently pressed a

button, on a device held lightly between her fingers, and the figure attached to the wall began to buck around violently, making frantic keening sounds through its gag.”

“Bad auntie”, Jenny said, vaguely, and held the button for a few more seconds before releasing it, and letting the figure hang slack from its wrist restraints – now sweating profusely.

“But – your own mother?” Red asked.

“Oh, she’s not really my mother.” Jenny said dismissively. “Look closely there between her legs.”

Red peered, feeling rather out of place as a nephew inspecting his auntie’s genitals. He wasn’t quite sure what he saw. It didn’t look like his image of female genitalia, but there wasn’t really enough there to be a male either.

“Behold your uncle Malcolm”, Jenny said dismissively. “Tranny, sub and

perverted old pain slut. I was found abandoned on the doorstep when I was a baby. He brought me up as his child, but we’re not relations, so there was really no reason when I came of age not to make him my bitch. He was gagging for it anyway.”

“Did he have a sex change?” Red asked with fascination, trying to discern exactly what it was that the seating creature had between its legs.

“Not exactly”, Jenny said. “I mean, surgical procedures were carried out, and it certainly doesn’t really count as male any more, but…well, it’s a bit complicated.”

She looked down at Red, kneeling at her feet. “Anyway, I’m not related to you, either. Isn’t that interesting? It certainly creates some new possibilities.”

Red looked up at her face, and started to smile, before reeling under a savage slap to his cheek from her gloved hand.

“Now – we’ll have that punishment book please”, she commanded. “And we’ll have to add something there about failing to kiss my boot when commanded.”

*

Four hours later, Red lay panting, suspended (like his “auntie” opposite) from wrist restraints. His back was a mass of bruises and welts from Jenny’s cane and a variety of whips. His nipples were sore beyond belief, having been pulled, twisted, crushed and burnt until he had lacked the breath to scream any more . Between his legs, though, his penis (which had also seen its share of rough treatment) finally hung flaccid, Jenny’s ministrations having finally exhausted even this randy twenty year-old’s capacity. He was sore all over, and exhausted , but strangely happy.

“Did you really think I was your auntie?”, Jenny asked, with a kittenish grin. “I should be offended – to be mistaken for that wrinkled old bag” – and she lashed out playfully with her whip, the tip of which caught auntie hard across ‘her’ left breast, where it added an angry red mark to the pattern of welts that already existed.

“I had my doubts” confessed Red, sheepishly. “Actually” he admitted, with an embarrassed grin, “I thought perhaps you were the big bad dominatrix who lives in the woods.”

“The one who tortures bad boys and girls for fun?” laughed Jenny.

“Yes” he admitted. “And keeps them in her lair until she’s bored with them, then cuts off their…their…” Red’s voice trailed off, as a rather unpleasant thought

“Oh you silly boy.” Jenny said, her hand snaking down to his genitals, and stroking them thoughtfully.

Tomorrow’s World – today!

This one’s a parody, not a fairy tale. If you’re British and at least 40 years old, you will have watched Tomorrow’s World and you’ll know what this is about. If you’re neither of these things, you probably won’t and I wouldn’t recommend even trying, and this is a very close parody. Briefly, TW was a science programme, with a relentlessly upbeat, cheerful and slightly patronising approach painting a picture of a bright shiny technological tomorrow. I'm still waiting for my personal jetpack.

Also famous for unconvincing banter between the presenters and for wobbly sets made of cardboard, like most British TV of the 70s and 80s.

[Sarah] Welcome to this special edition of Tomorrow’s World, where we’ll be reporting on what might be the most significant scientific breakthrough since the theory of gravity. Researchers at the Marie Curie centre for female science have announced a new discovery that could revolutionise the way we live, work and spend our leisure time. Karen’s been looking into it.

[Sarah] So, Karen, what’s all the fuss about?

Here's a 70s domme to put you in the mood, then on with the story...

[Karen] Thanks Sarah. Well, details are still a bit sketchy at the moment, but we’re beginning to hear some fascinating hints about a new technique that’s been discovered called “slavery”.

[Sarah] “Slavery”, eh? So what does it involve?

[Karen] The technical details haven’t yet been published, but if I understand the basic principle correctly, the idea is to force male humans to work without pay, complaining or stopping for breaks.

[Sarah] Sounds wonderful if it’s true – the sort of ‘free energy’ source scientists have been seeking for years. But how can you make men work for free? I can’t get my husband to wash the dishes even now. I’d love to make him a slave, but how can I?

[Karen] Well, Sarah that’s where the science comes in. (Turns to look at the camera) There are two basic elements to the breakthrough – lust and pain. Lust comes in because it’s been discovered that men have an area of the brain that provides a strong sexual urge to be dominated and to serve women. In a very few men, it’s already developed but in most it is merely nascent. The researchers at the Marie Curie Centre have found a way to stimulate it in all men, so that we can use its effects.

[Sarah] Sounds great. But you mentioned two elements – what’s the other? [Karen] The other is punishment. You see, if there’s only the lust developed men want to spend the whole day looking at porn or just gently licking women’s leather boots. Pleasant enough, but not particularly productive. But then the researchers tried whipping these men – and things turned out very different. Let’s hear from one of the scientists involved. (looks off to the side)

Cut away to a confident-looking blonde woman in her early forties, wearing a lab coat.

[Scientist] Well, we had a new form of male life – slaves – and that was very exciting, but we couldn’t find a way of getting any useful work out of them. We tried various combinations of diet and chemical stimulants, with a small degree of success but not the large-scale useful activity we were really looking for. Then it was one of our young interns, actually, who tried thrashing one of them on the buttocks with a stick. We were all just amazed: he was cleaning around the lab, washing up some of the test equipment and making tea without a word of complaint.

Camera pulls back to reveal a range of implements on the lab bench beside her. [Scientist] Following that breakthrough, we conducted a rigorous and

comprehensive sequence of tests on different materials – mostly leather or wood, but some plastic and metal too – lengths of material, part of the body beaten, duration of the beating and so on. We’re still making progress, actually, getting some very

exciting results with new and exotic materials. But it’s quite clear that very acceptable results can be achieved by using a willow cane or a leather strap or whip, as long as the beating is repeated on a fairly regular basis.

A clip is briefly shown of a man being flogged briskly with a leather riding whip, dancing frantically as he dangles from his shackles and howling in pain as each stroke falls.

[Sarah] Amazing. And these materials – willow, leather and so on - they’re quite cheap and easy to obtain?

[Karen] That’s right. In fact, most of our viewers could probably fashion

something workable just from old materials they might have lying around the house. An old leather belt, the rubber drive belt from an old washing machine, or even some nice whippy twigs from some varieties of tree will all make perfectly adequate

instruments of correction, and get your house spic and span in no time.

[Karen] Sounds almost too good to be true. But will it really change the way that we live? What will life in the future be like, when slavery is cheap and plentiful?

Karen gets up and walks over to where a “living room of the future” has been mocked up, mostly using shaky cardboard. She stands in front of it, talking directly to the camera.

[Karen] Well, a lot of things in the future will still look much the same, but the underlying technology will be very different.

She sits down in an armchair

[Karen] Take TV, for example. At the moment, I have to – and she reaches to the side for a remote control with obvious effort – reach out for a remote control, then choose one of all these many, many buttons just to switch the TV on. But in the future, I can simply say

[Karen] “Slave! TV!”

A naked man scurries out from behind her chair, over to the TV, switches it on and then returns to his hiding place

[Karen] And the TV automatically switches on. And similarly, if I want to change channels or adjust the volume…

She demonstrates, calling out different options and sending the slave hurrying back and forth to adjust the TV for her convenience

[Karen] Again, it’s all done automatically - and all without leaving my seat. [Karen] But that is not what’s really impressive about this new technology. After all, even today TVs could come with voice recognition, which might achieve the same effect.

Close up of her face as she frowns thoughtfully at the camera

[Karen] But could a TV with voice recognition get you a drink? You see a slave is versatile and flexible, and this very same slave that just made the TV work just how I want it, can also fix me a drink. I just need to give a different command – like this.

[Karen] “Slave! Gin and tonic.”

The naked man hurries over to the sideboard, and swiftly mixes the drink, then kneels before the presenter with the finished product, ice clinking gently against the sides of the glass. She reaches for it and takes a sip.

[Karen] Hmmm (smiles at the camera). Not bad. But it’s not exactly how I like it. I prefer my G&T to have just a little less tonic, and to have a slice of lime in it rather than lemon. You see, this slave has never made me a G&T before, so he doesn’t know my preferences. But unlike a mechanical device, he can learn, so that in future he’ll get it just how I like it.

[Karen] And this is where the really clever science comes in. Slave! Fetch the cane!

The man rushes off and returns to kneel before her with a long, whippy yellow cane. Karen reaches forward with a smile and picks it up.

[Karen] Now this (flexing it through the air while smiling at the camera) is one of the canes supplied by the researchers. But it could just as easily be an ordinary household cane, or even an unravelled coat hanger, if that’s all you can find. Now watch how I adjust the slave, so that next time he remembers how I like my drink.

[Karen] Slave! Bend over the chair!

The man bends over, and Karen stands up, takes two steps forward and swings the cane hard to lash across his buttocks. He howls and shudders, but remains bent over.

Karen smiles at the camera again. Now I‘m no expert in the use of this thing (she flexes the cane gently) . I’ve never even used one before today, when I had about ten minutes practice during rehearsals. But you can see there, I’ve already produced quite a nice mark, right across his buttocks. Now what that is doing is activating the pain receptors right across all that skin and flesh underneath that red line – do you see how it’s swelling slightly, if we can get the camera in on that? – and those

receptors are sending signals all the way to his brain, where his ideas about how I like my drinks are being adjusted. And those pain receptors are still firing away even now, getting on for a minute after the stroke. He’ll continue to be in pain from this beating for anything from a few hours to even a few days afterwards.

[Karen] But of course, I don’t need to understand all that just to use the cane. That’s the simplicity of this new technology. I don’t need to know the science, all I need to know is that if something isn’t quite to my liking, I can just beat this slave until it’s sorted out. Like this.

She proceeds to add three more angry red lines to the first, then commands the slave to return the cane to its holder and to make her another drink.

[Karen] And it’s not just drinks – the same slave will clean your house, do the laundry and iron your clothes, in fact, he will do anything in his power to make your life as comfortable and convenient as possible.

The slave has returned and kneels before her proffering the new G&T, trembling slightly. She reaches for it, and takes a sip.

[Karen] Hmmm. Perfect. Just the way I like it. And later on, I might try out his culinary skills. I’ll see if I can - she half-smiles at the camera and raises an eyebrow – whip up something tasty!

Cut back to Sarah

[Sarah] Oooh! Now that hurts as much as the cane! Do you think a slave could be made to write you some better jokes, Karen?

[Sarah] No, but seriously, we’ve been watching you do all these marvellous things with just a flick of that cane, and haven’t seen any use of mechanical power – no electricity, no fuel. Is it all CO2 neutral?

[Karen] That’s right, Sarah. No scarce fossil fuels used up, no harmful chemical by-products and it won’t contribute to global warming. Slavery isn’t just a matter of convenience – it can help save the planet, too.

[Sarah] So how much can we expect slaves to do for us in the future?

[Karen] Well, Sarah, the researchers say that right now we are only just beginning to learn the possibilities of this exciting new technology. We simply don’t yet know all of the things that slaves will be doing for us. Slavery will be all around us, it will be part of our everyday lives. We probably won’t even think about all the slaves there working tirelessly behind the scenes. We’ll be flicking with a whip to get things done, with no more thought than when flicking a light switch today.

[Karen] Of course, there’s some way to go yet until we really see the full potential for this technology. For example, slave powered transport is an obvious area of research, but for now it’s probably limited to trips around town and slow-moving bulk transport. (she looks away to the side)

A short clip plays first showing a neat little slave drawn buggy, then a larger team of slaves being whipped along a canal tow-path, pulling a barge.

[Karen] But research is continuing, and there’s a lot of commercial interest in development too. I am sure there will be lots of exciting new things we can do with slaves that we’ll only discover as we start to use them. I’ve been trying out some of the slaves from the science centre all day, and I can tell you I just don’t know how I ever managed without them.

[Sarah] So there we are. Simple, yet high tech, effective and remarkably easy to use. A future of convenience and leisure, and saving the planet too! I can’t see anyone objecting to that.

Karen smiles at her

[Karen] Well – except the slaves, I suppose! [Sarah] Except the slaves, of course!

[Both (laughing)] Goodnight!

Air Divine

“Welcome aboard this Air Divine flight from the United Queendom to San Domina. On behalf of the Captain and Her crew, we hope that all female passengers will have a pleasant flight with us today. Our flight time to San Domina is nine hours and forty-five minutes. Our apologies again for the late departure of your flight today. As you know, this was due to male incompetence leading to air traffic control problems in the UQ area. We are expecting to encounter strong tailwinds during the flight and We hope to make up most of the 20 minutes and have every expectation of an on-time arrival in San Domina. Nonetheless, in accordance with UQ aerospace policy, the air traffic controller and today’s air traffic control supervisor will each be receiving a stroke of the cane for each minute the take-off was delayed. I have just been informed that this will be administered as soon as they come off shift later today, so once you reach your hotel in San Domina, you might like to visit the Air

Divine web site, where you can observe the video of their correction by entering your flight number, or download it as a souvenir of the trip with our compliments.

Female class is towards the front of the aircraft today and male class towards the rear. We have a rather full flight with almost thirty female passengers and one hundred and seventeen males. We recommend that female passengers do not enter the male area, which is situated past the jacuzzi area about two-thirds of the way down the length of the aircraft, as the configuration of the seating in male class makes movement difficult and the overcrowding may sometimes result in unpleasant odours. Rest assured that we are running the air conditioning at full capacity, and will be keeping the door to male class firmly closed throughout the flight.

In female class today, I will be your stewardess, with my five assistants, and we will do everything possible to make your flight as agreeable as possible. You each have a personal slave, presently stowed in the base of your seat, in addition to the ten cabin slaves who will be assisting the cabin service today. Please make use of any or all of these facilities, to provide amusement and diversion during the flight in any way you desire. As this is a long flight, please check with a member of the cabin staff before inflicting debilitating punishment on any of the cabin slaves. We should have plenty, but we do need to ensure that enough remain conscious towards the end of the flight to ensure that the service standards on which we pride ourselves are maintained all the way through to disembarkation.

Passengers preferring to use their own slaves in-flight are welcome to do so, but please ensure that these are stowed in the overhead lockers or securely under the seat in front of you for take-off and landing.

We have a full range of audio-visual treats on your personal screen, including on this flight a special feature from the Other World Kingdom. Playstation games and vanilla media are also available. We have seven playrooms available in female class, all equipped with a fine range of leather, rubber and electrical toys. Playrooms 2 and

7 have been designated for watersports. Please refrain from watersports in any of the other playrooms. Please note also that toilets 3 and 4 are fitted with toilet slaves for your convenience, the others using traditional bowl technology. The playrooms are all fully soundproofed, so please feel free to express yourselves fully. Passengers who are nervous flyers are particularly encouraged to make use of the facilities, as it has been clinically demonstrated that these uncomfortable feelings of nervousness can be effectively dissipated by the screams produced by a vigorously punished male. In the event of severe turbulence, please leave the playrooms and return to your seats, without stopping to untie or loosen any slaves.

The smoking area is situated towards the front of the cabin. Please ensure that all smoking materials are extinguished in the slaves provided prior to our commencing the descent. You are welcome to smoke at all other times.

Male class passengers can be assured that the crew will do everything possible to make your journey less

comfortable. If there is anything more you need, and you find you can speak even when tightly gagged, please feel free to ask. You can be assured of receiving some very personal attention, for the remainder of your flight.

In male class, the cabin Supervisors are Miss Hardcastle and Miss Clarissa. Passengers are reminded that they may not attempt to leave their seats, talk or consume any items without permission from the cabin supervisors. Seatbelts have been locked and will remain so for the duration of the flight, and gags will be administered to any passengers finding the no-talking policy difficult. Our cabin Supervisors are fully trained in whipping and other corporal discipline, so your compliance in this regard is appreciated. Each male will be permitted one bathroom break, to be taken only at the times required by our Supervisors. In the event of a desperate need for a bathroom break at any other time, please inform the

supervisors, who will be happy to fit tourniquets and anal plugs to prevent leaks. Passengers considering soiling their seats should be aware that Air Divine operates a

strict policy of testicle-crushing for any such offence. All male passengers should please be aware that Air Divine operates a strict no-wanking policy on all its flights. The toilets are fitted with semen detectors, and any violation of this rule will result in an immediate whipping and tight suspension for the remainder of the flight.

The Supervisors will shortly be passing through the cabin distributing the in-flight entertainment, which today consists of 1500 lines. The line today is “There can be nothing better suited to my status than to spend a nine hour flight writing lines. I am strapped to my seat with no means of escape should the plane crash, supervised by cabin staff who would have no qualms whatever about watching me die in agony.” Passengers should note that lines must be completed, legibly, at least 30 minutes prior to landing. Incomplete and illegible lines will result in a note being made on the passenger’s file, and correction will be administered on your next flight with Air Divine. Passengers may care to glance towards the back of the cabin, where they can observe lazy slaves from previous flights hogtied to the ceiling, for the duration of the flight. Nipple clamps will be administered for the final three hours of their flight, as we find that the agonized moans help other passengers to concentrate on the

importance of completing their homework.

We will shortly be serving drinks and light refreshments in female class. We have a very complete wine list today, and a fine range of spirits and mixers for cocktails or any other drinks you may require. We have a fully-stocked kitchen on board, with fresh meat and vegetables, as well as bread produced during the flight in our on-board bakery. There is no specific menu: please simply order what you like, and our three trained chefs will endeavour to produce it. Please remember to fill in the

customer feedback form if at all disappointed with the meal preparation, as we like to hold our staff to the most exacting standards and we make full use of customer

feedback in their weekly performance review and incentive sessions. We have a fresh fruit and salad bar, but for a less healthy option, may I take this opportunity to remind you that we stock most of the world’s leading brands of chocolates?

In male class, nosebags will be distributed and attached about halfway through the flight. Passengers are reminded that all the food must be consumed. Owners are assured that the nourishment provided in male class meets San Domina standards of hygiene for male consumption, and that the rank odour in no way indicates that your slave will be damaged as a result of consuming it. Passengers in male class are also reminded to make full use of the two opportunities during the flight to consume liquids, as additional watering will not be provided except in cases of severe dehydration leading to unconsciousness.

In the unlikely event of an emergency, the captain will illuminate the emergency signs in female class. Please return to your seats and allow the cabin slaves to secure your seat belts. Oxygen masks will descend from the overhead lockers, and will be gently fitted by the cabin slaves. Please note that oxygen supplies are limited and we regret that none can be provided for personal slaves, who must be securely stowed in the overhead lockers or under the seat in front of you in an emergency. In the very unlikely event of a forced landing, please disembark the aircraft as quickly as possible, in the directions indicated by cabin staff. Do not stop to pick up any personal belongings, such as handbags, laptop computers or slaves. Your safety is our number one concern. Once all female passengers have left the aircraft, the crew will conduct a final check before themselves disembarking. In the even more unlikely event of a landing on water, three cabin slaves will be installed in each life raft as emergency food supplies.

In the event of an emergency the door to the male cabin will be locked by the departing cabin supervisors. Regrettably, under emergency conditions it will not be possible to reopen this door, as the screams of terror may prevent important safety announcements from being heard in the main cabin. Once again, I remind you that the safety of our female passengers is our number one concern. Passengers

concerned about their slaves should be reassured that Air Divine’s comprehensive insurance cover, included in the price of your ticket, provides for full replacement of any property, including owned males, damaged or destroyed in-flight.

On arrival at San Domina, please collect your slaves from the slave hall before proceeding through passport control. Holders of San Domina passports need complete no immigration formalities for the importation of live slaves. Holders of other passports should note that males accompanying them will be recorded as entering as their property for the duration of their visit, and should fill out a form of temporary ownership. Males must be tattooed with an ownership number at

immigration. If you do not wish your male to be marked in this manner, or for any other reason would prefer not to be accompanied by your male during your stay in San Domina, please make use of the kennel facilities in the airport, where your male will be stored securely and hygienically for the duration of your visit. Should you wish to sell or otherwise dispose of your slave during your stay, or acquire a new one, please ensure that you fill out a change of ownership form, as males are permitted to leave the country only under the control of their designated owner. Note that duty-free allowances for spirits, wine and tobacco apply only to people as defined under San Domina law, not to males.

Once again, on behalf of Air Divine I hope our female passengers enjoy the flight, and that our male passengers do not. If there is anything at all that can be done to

make your flight more enjoyable, or your slave’s flight less so, please let me or my cabin staff know and we will endeavour to assist. We know that our female customers have a choice of airline, and we appreciate your continued custom aboard Air Divine. Finally, may I draw your attention to our frequent flyers programme? Frequent flyers with Air Divine can receive a wide range of awards, from free samples of our

exclusive range of Air Divine crops to perfumes, fine wines and jewellery. As an additional incentive, new recruits to the programme will receive a free slave. Membership is free, so please sign up today and pick up your free slave from the customer help desk on arrival.

Enjoy your flight on Air Divine, your dungeon in the sky.

Serena and Alice

Serena is a scientist, with a particular interest in conducting experiments on male subjects, and generally finding ways to hurt them. Alice is her breathless young admirer, and lover, a sweet and innocent youngster who also loves nothing better than seeing men pleading desperately in agony.

Warning. These stories contain body modification, extreme torture, death and just a whole lot of general meanness. Some get rather icky as well, with body parts coming off, getting squished, dissolved in acid and all sorts of other unpleasantness. If any of that sort of thing bothers you, you’re unlikely to be reading this book. And it’s all rather cartoonish – in that these stories are intended to be funny, if you can believe that. Still, I don’t want to haunt your dreams (unnecessarily), so consider yourselves warned, OK?

Chopped and changed

“So what did you do?” asked Alice with interest, staring at the uncomfortable man in front of her.

Serena giggled.

“Oh” she said modestly, “just a little intra-body transplant. Any incredibly highly-skilled surgeon could do it, if only they had the imaginative genius.”

She gently lifted his skirt. Between his legs lay something small, and thin…and dark pink and quite moist. As Alice watched in fascination, it curled its tip up and out towards her.

It was a tongue.

“May I?” breathed Alice, gesturing towards the displaced organ. “Be my guest”, smiled her friend.

Alice slowly reached forward and touched the tongue. It was wet, muscular and soft like any tongue.

“He’ll lick your hand if you tell him to” Serena advised.

Alice laughed delightedly as her hand was gently licked, like a loving puppy dog, by the little member wagging so obediently between Serena’s slave’s legs.

“So you took his penis off and replaced it with a tongue?” she said in wonderment. Serena nodded.

“It’s his own tongue.” she said. “All the muscles are attached as before. Just…down there instead of in his throat. It’s fully functional”

“You mean he can talk?” Alice asked, puzzled.

“Well, no” her friend admitted. “We would need to combine the tongue with all the other bits for that, and those are still in his throat. I mean it’s fully functional for oral sex – better, if anything, as it can curl right from the base now it’s not confined in his throat.”

“And you can have oral sex in the missionary position” mused Alice. “I’m not sure I’d like that. I enjoy having them kneel before me for sex.”

Her friend laughed out loud.

“Oh, you can still do that too! Just in a different way. In fact, I’m surprised he’s managed to keep his mouth closed all this time, with two attractive women standing before him like this.”

Alice looked closely and saw she was right. The slave’s lips were bulging outwards as if something inside were swelling to push past.

“Down on your knees, and show Miss Alice what you can do.” Serena instructed quietly.

Epilogue

On the way home, in the taxi, Alice thought about what she had seen, and the offer that Serena had made. She loved her husband, David, but it was true that he could be…improved. In the Mistress/slave contract that they had signed, Alice had committed not to remove any part of his body without his free consent, a condition that David – who had a visceral fear of castration – had insisted on. Alice, who loved the feeling of his cock inside her, had happily agreed, without a moment’s hesitation, telling him that she could never bear to have it removed.

“But the agreement doesn’t say things can’t be moved about a bit” she thought to herself happily, stroking the little vial of liquid her friend had given her to put into her husband’s drink.

Crossed wires

“So this is your latest project?” Alice asked with interest, gazing at the nervous-looking man standing naked before them. “I don’t see anything unusual.”

“Turn around boy!” Serena barked.

The man slowly shuffled through a 180 degree turn and Serena pointed to a small scar on the back of his neck.

“That’s the only outward sign. Not very impressive, I know. But the real change is inside. Back against the wall and hands up to the shackles!”

The man unhappily turned back around, stepped back against the wall and raised his hands up to the rings fastened there.

Serena stepped forward and started hooking his steel cuffs onto the rings, securing his hands neatly in place.

“Oh please, Mistress…” he began to mumble, tears rising in his eyes. Serena briskly hit him across the face and he fell silent.

“I’m sorry about that” she said, glancing at Alice. “There aren’t that many boys who’ve had the op and they haven’t all adjusted to their new lives yet, so they can get a bit impertinent. But I don’t want to gag him, or we’ll miss all the fun.”

She completed the arrangements by passing straps around his waist and knees, preventing any significant movement except at his extremeties. Then she stepped back with satisfaction.

“There” she said, indicating the man’s genitals with the tip of her riding crop. “That’s the area of interest.”

Alice looked down. It certainly was. The penis lay there, pink fleshy and

untouched, hanging over a pair of balls that looked full and ready for action without being swollen. This was most unusual. She couldn’t remember ever having seen one of her friend’s slaves with such untouched organs before. Usually they were locked in steel devices, or increasingly these days kept on display in the glass cabinet in

Serena’s bedroom, removed for safekeeping from their earlier attachment. At the very least, they were usually covered in burn or stretch marks as a result of her friend’s little experiments. In one memorable case, the slave’s penis and tongue had been swapped around, while in another Serena had artfully induced the scrotal sac to grow to almost three feet in length, forcing the unfortunate slave to drag his testicles along the ground as he walked (she loved to put him in boots, blindfold him, spin him around and watch him tread on his own balls). But these genitals were pristine.

“Goodness, it’s hot in here” Serena murmured slyly and took off her top.

Alice looked with approval at her friend’s newly exposed body, the breasts cupped in a lacy bra. She felt stirrings of desire, both at the thought of completing Serena’s disrobing later and also at what was certain to be a most unpleasant experience that her friend had planned for the man sweating before them. She looked again at his penis and noted that it was swelling slightly. The man was grimacing, and trying desperately to look at the ceiling.

Serena giggled and reached forward. “Pretty little things” she said happily, and to Alice’s amazement she reached forward and gently stroked the top of the growing pink organ, running the tip of her finger from its base slowly down to the quivering head. This was extraordinary. Generally, penises that felt the touch of Serena’s fingers experienced nothing gentle, and indeed often the touch of her fingers was the second-last sensation that they ever felt.

What was still more amazing was the male’s reaction, though. As Serena stroked, he choked off a shriek of agony, bubbling up through his lips.

“He doesn’t seem to like it very much” Alice observed.

“Yes he does” her friend replied. “Look. He’s an excited little boy.” And indeed, the penis itself seemed to be enjoying the treatment. It had reached a horizontal position.

Serena licked her fingers, then flicked them in little tickling movements against the underside of the penis. The man howled almost as soon as she started, then choked off his shrieks as if trying desperately to master the pain. Serena waited until he seemed to be under control, his jaw firmly clenched and shuddering with the effort.

“Look at me” she said, quietly.

The man made an obvious effort to brace himself and directed his terrified, tear-filled eyes to her cool gaze. Serena smiled at him, and without looking down she curled her hand around the end of his penis and gave it a soft squeeze.

This seemed to be too much, and the man’s gaze instantly left hers as he threw back his head and screamed once again in agony.

Serena stepped back, leaving him panting in exhaustion. “Do you want a go?” she asked her friend with a grin.

Alice stepped forward uncertainly. It was a while since she’d touched a penis. In the early days of her marriage, of course, before the changes to their relationship, she had frequently had contact with David's organ. Indeed, even after they had settled into more of an owner and slave dynamic, she had occasionally allowed release. But she’d gradually got out of the habit, and after she’d make clear to David that she would prefer not to be reminded (she had expressed herself quite forcefully and he seemed to have taken the point) she had almost forgotten that he had anything at all down there beneath his skirt. In fact, she decided, she really ought to do something about that. She made a mental note to ask Serena to bring her surgical kit the next time she came around.

Somewhat thrown by the incongruity, she reached forward and gently poked the swollen organ. The man grunted uncomfortably. Remembering some of the things David used to like, back in the days when he was allowed pleasure, she placed her finger and thumb lightly in a ring around the base and softly swayed it back and forth, letting the glans smack gently against the palm of her other hand. The penis jerked into rigidity and the man’s mouth opened in an involuntary roar of agony.

“Oh you’re so cruel!” Serena remarked playfully, watching her friend play with the straining penis. “Look how you’re hurting him. The poor thing.” And she leaned forward closer to the man’s sweating face, watching happily as he tried to control the screams and gasps of pain.

“But why is it hurting him?” Alice asked in puzzlement. “I mean, I’m not even…” and her voice broke off in pleasurable contemplation of the many, many things she could do if she were trying to hurt him.

“You are activating the nerves in his genitals.” Serena replied. Every time you stroke his penis, every time he feels a surge of excitement in his balls, tens of thousands of little nerve endings say ‘oh – yes, yes, yes!’ and they fire off signals of excitement to his brain.”

“Up his spinal cord” Alice murmured, remembering the little mark on the back of the man’s neck.

“Up his spinal cord” Serena nodded. “And the impulses go straight into the pleasure receptors in his brain, where he experiences a lovely sense of warmth, excitement and oncoming release.”

She laughed.

“Unless they get diverted on the way.”

Alice gazed at the man’s juddering head, trying to imagine the little electrical impulses arriving inside. “Diverted? I see. I suppose diverted to – “

“Every nerve in his genitals plugs straight into the part of his brain that deals with pain.” Serena remarked briskly. “Down there they fire off signals of pleasure, but he feels them as pain. When he’s not being stimulated, there’s a constant mild

discomfort. But if we give him a little treat – “ and here she fondled the quivering member affectionately, making the man gasp in shock “ – he experiences it as pain.”

“Every pleasurable impulse is like a punishment” Alice mused, fascinated. “So when we stroke him, he experiences it as if we were kicking him or something.”

“Oh no, it’s much worse than that!” Serena replied sharply. “Before the operation, only a tiny fraction of those nerve endings down there were pain receptors. Now, in effect, they all are.”

Alice reached forward again and gave the penis a gentle squeeze. When the shrieks had died away into breathless sobbing she asked “What did that feel like, boy?”

“Like…like…oh you can’t imagine, Miss Alice” the wretched man replied. “Of course I can’t you idiot. That’s what I want you to tell me!” Alice snapped, wondering for the millionth time why men found it so hard to obey simple

commands.

“It’s…it’s…well it’s like being gripped by a red hot iron – but it’s ice cold as well, Miss.” he stuttered, desperately. “And spikes digging into the flesh all at the same time. Burning hot and freezing cold spikes. And being crushed – like clamps but over every square millimetre of the, of the…” and he broke down weeping.

Serena nodded wisely. “Heat receptors, cold receptors, pressure and rupture receptors – all leading straight into the pain centres”, she remarked. “He’s not just experiencing pain, he’s experiencing pain in every feeling and impulse that arrives.”

“So do his pain receptors send signals to pleasure centres?” Alice asked,

wondering if he’d actually enjoy a good hard kick in the balls (she didn’t much like the thought of that).

Her friend shook her head firmly. “They still feed into the pain centre too. I didn’t swap them around, I spliced them. There’s nothing going into his pleasure centres from down there now.”

“Could you feed all his nerve endings from his entire body into the pain centres?” Alice asked excitedly.

Serena turned to look at her friend affectionately, thinking how much she loved her. “We think so much alike! Yes, I did try that. But I think the pain just

overwhelmed them. As soon as they woke up after the anaesthetic, one quick shriek and they died.”

“Shame” Alice said.

“Yes” her friend agreed. “But I gave it a good go. I tried a dozen times at least and got the same result every time.”

“Still” Alice said happily. “This is pretty good.”

“Oh, we haven’t got to the best bit yet, have we boy?” Serena replied slyly, reaching forward and grasping the penis in her hand. She began slowly to squeeze rhythmically, gently moving her hand up and down.

The man choked off a scream by gritting his teeth. He was obviously trying to say something, but found it impossible to get the words out.

Driven out of his wits (such as they were) with pain, well beyond any ability to appreciate sarcasm, the man’s head thrashed from side to side in a frantic ‘no’. But Serena giggled and simply continued the gentle squeezing and pumping motions.

“It’s his first time” she explained. “He’s been close to the edge, but I haven’t taken him over it yet. The survival rate isn’t great – one in three or so. Even when they do survive, they never really recover. I suppose the pain is just too much, and the brain just tries to disconnect itself from reality. The survivors are just vegetables. I use them for spare parts.”

She was varying her movements slightly now, occasionally jerking the penis with little tweaking movements, before returning to steady pumping at a gently increasing tempo, with a firm grip. The man was now howling desperately in pain and

uncontrollable fear.

It had been a while since she had witnessed a male orgasm, Alice thought to herself with interest. She thought of her own orgasms. The overwhelming pleasure, the surge of excitement and relief that overwhelmed all other thoughts and feelings, all reality all experience submerged beneath the rush of pleasure. Imagine all that as pain, she thought as she gazed in wonder into the male’s terrified, pleading eyes.

Suddenly, she realised that she was close to climax herself. She took hold of Serena’s left hand, and pressed it firmly against herself. Her friend smiled in

pleasure, and leant over to kiss her, both hands now stimulating her two companions to further heights of pleasure, and pain. Respectively.

As the two mouths locked together, two tongues urgently exploring one another, Alice felt the onrush of an uncontrollable orgasm, as the horrified yells of terror beside her told her that the man was heading in the same direction.

They came together, as Alice shrieked out – as so many times before – her love for her dear friend. But her words could not be heard, as in the captive male beside her a hundred thousand nerve endings proclaimed their joy, only to be felt as a hundred thousand agonies.

Love among the test tubes

“And apparently in chemistry the situation is even worse!” Serena concluded. “Only 23 percent! It’s just ridiculous!”

Her friend Alice nodded silently. The low proportions of women taking science subjects at university had been much in the newspapers, of course, but to a dedicated scientist like Serena – who also had strong views on the question of sexual equality (she was opposed to it) – it was unbearable.

“What do you think the reason is?” Alice asked.

“Well, it’s the fault of men, obviously.” Serena replied, calming down a bit.

Science: it's a girl thing.

“Obviously.” echoed Alice.

The two friends saw eye-to-eye on most things, but about men they were in particularly firm agreement. For Serena’s birthday, Alice had bought her a t-shirt reading“Man-hating lesbian and proud of it”, and sometimes the two went out wearing identical messages. But they weren’t that sort of separatist dykes who wanted to live in an all-female world. No, both Alice and Serena thought that men were all right, in their proper place. And principally, that proper place was as

unwilling test subjects for Serena’s scientific experiments. Science, and especially the scholarly exploration of male degradation, humiliation and torture was Serena’s passion*. Alice’s passion was Serena, so she was a little less interested, but she did find it sexy when her lover made them do such funny things. Especially when they screamed, or begged. Or bits came off.

“It’s the male teachers in schools” Serena complained. “They make it much too boring! It’s all blackboards and formulae, and carefully measuring the volume of the precipitate.”

“I used to hate science at school” Alice agreed. “I had this horrible teacher, Mr Greystoke, who just used to drone on and on – we never understood a thing and I think he just didn’t care. I just thought science was boring.”

She caught sight of her friend’s shocked expression.

“Well, I don’t think that now, of course! You make science fun. I love it when you do your experiments. I wish school science could be like that.”

Serena’s face suddenly lit up, in the way it always did when she had had a brilliant idea. The slave males standing patiently against the wall recognised the expression, knew its consequences and flinched in fear.

“What is it?” Alice asked with interest. “Have you thought of a new experiment?” Serena shook her head slowly, smiling.

“No.” she said. “No, just maybe the beginnings of an idea. Never mind – I’ll think a bit more and tell you about it when it’s ready.”

Alice tried to hide her disappointment, but as usual her friend could tell. Serna leaned forward, smiling broadly.

“Tell you what” she remarked. “Is that crap science teacher of yours still at the school?”

“No” Alice replied, shaking her head. “He retired last year. I don’t know where he is now.”

“Shame” Serena said. “Would you like to pretend one of these creatures here is him? I’ve got a school cane.”

Two months later, Alice was back in her friend’s living room, sipping a gin and tonic and admiring the view, as a young man writhed in agony on the wall in front of her.

The man she’d chosen to play-act her hated science teacher had been old and rather frail, so the ladies had had to go very easy on him. Even so, he had lasted no more than six days, before the kindly fates granted him that blessed release from his agonies for which he had been begging since his first day in captivity. So now, Serena was repeating exactly the same course of treatment, multiplied up, on a young, fitter man (who had once delivered a pizza to their door, 30 seconds later than had been promised, and had been regretting it ever since). This was real science, Alice thought happily – every whiplash perfectly calibrated, and recorded for the edification of future generations. She was so proud to have a proper scientist as her lover.

“Never mind him” Serena commanded, sweeping into the room. “Look what I’ve got.”

She held up a memory stick.

“Oooh!” squealed Alice in excitement. “Did you get the soul-catcher to work?” This had been on Serena’s ‘to do’ list for ages. Record men’s experiences in perfect detail onto a computer storage device (the technology for recording the more

complex sensations and thoughts of the superior sex would not be ready for decades, but computers were finally becoming powerful enough to be as complex as simple life forms like worms, cockroaches and men).

The benefits that such a technology could bring the world were almost infinite. Imagine if you could record a man being tortured to death, over the course of two days for example. Sure, he’s suffered for two days but then what? If you could record

Boys can do science too! Log onto Serena's science web site, and follow the link marked test subjects. This man above is a trained scientist. Of course, that's not necessary for the

experiment, but it's nice to know, don't you think?

the experience - every burn, every shrieking nerve, every cut and bruise and finally fatal injury – then you could replay it, over and over again, inflicting multiples of the same agony on a subject who would survive the experience, only to face it from the very start all over again. Imagine explaining to a slave on the torture table, that not only were you about to do this and then afterwards, when the screaming had abated, you would do that – but that his experience would be recorded and he could scream again for this and shriek in terror at the prospect of that– all at the touch of a replay button.

The soulcatcher, Alice thought, would surely win her lover the Nobel Prize that had always cruelly been denied her (by men she thought, viciously).

“Errr…no” Serena said. “No, I’m still having trouble with that. No, this is a video.” “Oh” Alice replied, rather deflated. “Good video?”

“It’s a wonderful video!” Serena replied excitedly. “An educational video.” “Oh” Alice said again. “Educational. How nice.”

“Science education!” Serena said, exasperated. “You remember – we talked about it? About how it’s all so boring and dry. Well now it’s not. I’ve made this!”

“Oh” Alice said, and realised she really ought to say something a bit more intelligent (although to be honest, her friend loved her precisely because she was a little dim by female standards. So does the author, as without Alice’s constant questions, how would anything be explained?).

“So you’ve recorded some of your experiments – to show them what fun it can be?” and she nodded at the man writhing on the wall, who seemed to be about to lose his battle to hold himself up with his arms, with consequences that he knew full well would be horrifically painful.

“No, no” Serena said in irritation. “That’s too advanced. They wouldn’t be able to connect it to what they learn about. No – I’ve recorded a teaching video

demonstrating ordinary school science experiments. But my way. Do you want to see?”

“OK” said Alice, doubtfully, and her friend loaded the software onto a laptop, which projected onto a big flat screen TV on the far side of the room, suspended from four tightly-bound slaves.

“What do you want first?” Serena asked happily – pointing at the menu. “Chemistry?”

“S’pose so” Alice replied, moodily. “Mr mind-if-I-bore-you-to-tears Greystoke, eat your heart out.”

“Right then” Serena said, with a smile, as if she had secrets even deeper than usual. “Chemistry it is. Here we go”

And she selected chemistry on the menu, and the video started.

The first scene was a close-up of a naked young man rather uncomfortably squashed up behind a glass screen. But as the camera pulled back, Alice gasped as she realised that the glass was curved, and was in fact the side of an enormous test-tube. The man was curled up in the bottom of it, and did not look too happy about it.

“So” Serena said, in a rather formal voice. “Here we have a material, and we are about to test some of its properties through experiment.”

“Material?” Alice asked, perfectly in character even at this exciting bit of the story, when the author has to type fast.

“The boy” Serena replied absently. “We’re going to investigate its properties.” “OK” Alice smiled. “So how do we do that?”

“Oh, lots of ways!” her friend laughed. “Let’s start with some chemical reagents. She pressed a button.”

Serena herself now appeared on the screen, wearing a lab coat with safety goggles and carrying a clipboard.

“Acid reagents oxidise materials, and we can learn useful things about the properties of the material on which they act, by analysing the resulting gases” she said, in a sing-song voice, speaking rather woodenly to camera.

She pulled her goggles over her eyes, picked up a bucket marked “HNO3” and carefully climbed a ladder standing next to the giant test tube. While she did this a voice-over prattled on about the properties of acids, while information also scrolled confusingly across the bottom of the screen. The boy, it seemed, knew some basic science, because he was scrabbling frantically at the side of the test tube while this was going on, despairingly clawing at the smooth, high sides.

“and add the reagent to the material under study.” The voiceover concluded, and Serena carefully tipped the bucket of acid into the giant tube.

The two ladies watched in silence.

“Well.” Alice remarked, when all was quiet again and the test tube seemed only to contain a featureless sludge. “That was very educational.”

“Really?” her friend asked eagerly, her face aglow. “What did you learn.” “Oh” Alice replied (for what was now the fourth time).

“Well, you know. Acid, boys. All that.” She gestured at the screen. “They, erm, well they melt. And it’s such fun as they do it! Oh and they burn at first. Burn and melt. Funny.”

Serena pursed her lips. “Yes. Well there was a bit more than that. But I suppose it’s a start. Now, after this there’s a ten minute section in which we analyse the gases that were emitted when we reacted the acid with the boy and – “

She caught sight of her friend’s face, which had assumed a look of panic. “ – but we’ll skip that bit for now, and go on to another experiment.” she concluded, weakly, and called the chemistry sub-menu back.

Over the next fifteen minutes, Alice learned all about the chemical properties of young men and how to investigate them.

· How they reacted with alkalis

· What happened if they were subjected to heat

· The effects of removing oxygen, or of adding chlorine

· Practical tips, such as how to grind them in a mortar and pestle, and the effects of keeping them under oil.

“Goodness” she said at the end of it all. “I never knew chemistry could be so very interesting. And I always thought they were made of slugs and snails and puppy-dog tails.”

“Yes, that’s just a myth” Serena replied absently, pointing at the latest sticky mess displayed on the screen. “Complex hydrocarbons mostly.”

“But if you fed them only on slugs and snails – “ Alice began, and Serena –

desperate to avoid what she thought might be a demonstration of appalling scientific ignorance by her friend - quickly switched to the physics lesson.

Alice found this even more interesting. There were a lot of different kinds of physics, it seemed, and all of it could be demonstrated by experiments with boys.

Some of the sections introduced more than one physical principle at a time. For example, one long segment dealt both with the effects of increasing weight, in a gravitational field, and also the tensile strength of various bits of a boy’s body. Ultimately, gravity always won, and the segment concluded with a delightful little speculation on how much more weight you would need to attach to a boy’s delicate bits to overcome their tensile strength, on the moon.

“In space no one can hear you scream!” Alice giggled, but her friend, deep in thought, just replied absently “Yes, that’s a downside of conducting experiments off-planet, of course.”

Then there was a segment on electricity, with a particular focus on how well it was conducted across boys’ bodies, or bits of boys’ bodies. Alice was actually already fairly familiar with most of this, but it was good to see it done in such a

well-structured way, with steadily increasing voltages compared across different distances at which the electrodes were set, complex instruments measuring the current flow that could only be determined approximately from the intensity of the screams.

Then there were more physical experiments: what happens when a boy is

accelerated to 70mph and then encounters a fixed object, different heights to which men could be propelled from the baskets of catapults, and an experiment to

demonstrate that a heavy pendulum attached to a man’s testicles and set swinging would gradually trace out a circle over 24 hours (time-lapse photography was used here of course, as the boredom of watching the whole thing would be unbearable).

“And that’s how we know the world turns!” Serena said, triumphantly.

“All from a set of well-tugged balls” Alice breathed in wonder. Her friend relaxed, as she could see that her educational materials were truly starting to engage someone she would readily admit to herself was rather a challenging first audience.