Ed, writhing on pole one, gazes at Jen. He marvels at her remarkable outfit. He's trying hard to integrate his excitement with his present reality, to understand what today's experience is telling him about himself; he knows he's in for a challenge. Like most people punished here he's never been tied up so he's far from comfortable in his bondage, yet he's surprised it isn't a lot worse. He feels pleasantly embraced by his sleeve. He's often had difficulty staying firmly erect - not today! Today he's swelling effortlessly inside his deceptively dormant penal cylinder - even without the assistance of the vacuum he would be, for now. He gazes into Jen's eyes, his arousal precisely her intention.
The conductive surfaces won't remain inert much longer, and with plenty of suction on call he'll continue to squeeze himself onto the cylinder's intimately tormenting electrodes for the entire session, whether he's aroused or not. Jen will see to it that he isn't except when she wants him to be.
The money and the opportunity to vacation in exotic locations with wealthier clients were attractive, the physical and emotional workload all-consuming. Jen never had an opportunity to meet Angie's and Ginny's aunt Barbara - she knew her only through her will and stories related by Liz, recently colored in by Ginny, but she marveled that Barbara managed to sustain that intensity for a lifetime. Perhaps you've been there too, or maybe you chose a different path to your mastery of the whip.
Jen's uniform used to be professionally subdued and formal - it certainly was when I first saw her from the other side of the glass, her hair braided in a whip-evoking ponytail and her boots conservatively conventional. No more! Jen's gone overtly sexual, returning to her roots, a dominatrix through and through, complete with a real whip.
How can this be? Isn't this state-sponsored corporal punishment? Well, yes, but for starters it's managed by JenLiz studios. Their marching orders are to maximize revenue and minimize recidivism. Proven success, especially with respect to revenue, goes a long way to silence prudish grumblers.
But JenLiz also has a superb neuroscientist, Michael, who can support everything they do with hard facts. Jen discussed today's uniform with him; he ran some simulations, and he blessed it - if she catches any flac he'll back her up with unimpeachable data. And they have friends throughout the political establishment and all the local media. This is sustainable, at least for now. In any case, today is special - it's Jen's first day back - time for celebration!
Jen never expected to wind up working for the state, but the rumors intrigued her. She contacted Liz after learning about an experimental program to develop safe, sanitary, relatively humane corporal punishments as an alternative to traditional penal modes. After just two meetings she signed on and began training to become an Official Tormentor, tasked with developing new methodologies, some of which she would administer by her own hand. She found Liz's deep understanding of human psychology fascinating, especially since it dovetailed so neatly with her own. Liz's joyful, edgy personality attracted her immensely to boot. She concluded her training quickly - there wasn't much she didn't already know.
Ed's spent his whole life suppressing his 'S and M fantasies' with varying degrees of success. Not counting some furtive porn perusal and a scrubbed visit to THB, the trendy nightclub whose commodious basement houses a members-only BDSM club quite familiar to Angie, Bev, Ginny and Norm, as well as to Jen herself, he's never let himself explore his fantasies. He did, remarkably, wind up spending half an hour with Liz and Ginny during his short time at THB but to their considerable annoyance he excused himself just as they were about to invite him to join them downstairs. He has a feeling today's session will prove an ample make-up, especially now Jen's whip is coming his way.
One step remained before Jen could take up the tormentor's mantle. While at that time it was simply custom rather than a strict requirement, Jen knew if she refused she'd never really be accepted by the team - she had to endure a session herself. As she thrashed between Gabe on pole five and Michael on seven, she fell in love with Liz.
Ed relishes the slipstream thumping his chest, through three perfectly executed swings. Frightening yes, but he's in awe of this magnificent woman's skill - he's watched transfixed through her entire performance so far. He doesn't want to miss a single stroke and he's wondering if he'll be found worthy of an encore.
He is. Two more strokes fly by, together with a not entirely unfriendly smile. He wonders if he could squirm forward and catch one, but he wouldn't dare be so disobedient, and in any case he can't - his chest harness holds him firmly in position. She relishes his immobility - there's nothing like practicing with live human bodies.
Jen took up her duties exuberantly. The pay was nothing like what she'd become accustomed to, but she'd saved some, and by moving in together she and Liz made ends meet, performing their duties by day, staying busy in the BDSM community at night. Jen became friends with Liz's part-time lover Gabe, who sometime later suggested they take advantage of his substantial inheritance to form a video production outfit, JenLiz Studios. With Michael bringing his CG and AI skills into the mix as fourth partner, the studio soon became reliably profitable.
Jen's appearance exudes sexuality, but not availability - she's here to punish us, not to titillate us. Not much of our skin is exposed, enclosed as we are in our torment-cuffs, so why should any of hers be? Her sturdy frame fills her shiny leather; the bright lights glint off its smoothy contoured surface, the slight folds and creases enhance the outline of her solid musculature. She won't need to use all that strength once she's finished with her whip warmup. She'll send her fingers flying deftly over her control pad and we'll writhe electrically in her thrall, more painfully, more sensuously than we would for any ordinary flogging, no matter how expertly administered.
Once JenLiz found its footing Gabe used the remainder of his inheritance to buy a large, elegant townhouse. His tastes weren't lavish - he preferred to continue living in his modest apartment and leased the house to Sara, Liz, Jen and Michael for the cost of maintenance only, a burden easily born by their salaries and the studio's growing success. The funds covered the purchase with enough left over for renovation and improvements, including a large, well-equipped dungeon.
Ed's worst nightmare, or perhaps his best fantasy, stands before him coiling her whip as she brings its foreboding flight to a perfect descent. She swings it over her shoulders and steps closer. Ed is reminded of every part of his bondage as his pole jerks slightly down, then back up, bringing him exactly into alignment with Jen's steely gaze.
Jen loved her new life. The commodious townhouse lent itself perfectly to entertaining, intimate or overflowing, kinky or vanilla; they nicknamed it the House of Bondage. Michael's attic suite gave him room to expand his in-house IT facilities. JenLiz could now afford almost unlimited server capacity when needed either for production or for Michael's expanding work in artificial intelligence.
Ed can't see Jen's back since she's blocking his view in the mirror but I can. I marvel at her silky black hair descending in luxuriant waves almost to her elegantly rounded posterior. Her hair's held out from her perfectly-tanned alabaster-solid neck, passing through a silver ring decorated with gold filigree - a dominatrix bun, she reflected with a smile when she slipped it through - how trendy!
Jen's belt, which Ed can't see even if he strains his gaze downward as much as possible, isn't trendy - it's unique. The miniature-portrait-sized bronze buckle which secures her steel-studded belt depicts a naked man, executed in silver, kneeling before a tall crop-wielding woman cunningly crafted in bright gold - a treasure passed down to her, sometimes with an embarrassed apology, through several generations.
Yes, Jen's life was great, but lemons hovered just beyond the horizon. Michael and Jen were diagnosed almost at the same time with life-threatening diseases which despite the best available treatment rapidly progressed - the prospects were terminal. Jen was not one to take this lying down, especially since Michael's studies predicted that dying during climax would create the perception of eternal bliss, even if it actually lasted only a few seconds.
I can't see much more than Jen's back but I know what Ed's trying desperately not to stare at and it's not Jen's belt buckle
.
Jen wrote a script for a JenLiz production in which the goddess-queen would be sacrificed along with two admiring slaves in a spectacular focused-sunlight auto da fe. Michael took the role of one of the worshipful companions; the other was filled by a friend of Gabe's who faced the same cruel dilemma.
The audience saw their oil-saturated bodies consumed by fire: three Roman candles blazed furiously in the rising sun's equinoxial radiance, adding an eerie glow to the faces of the ecstatically leaping, whirling throng gathered to observe the ceremony. But the air from the gigantic bellows which blasted from under the poles on which their bodies were bound in steel bands was really cryogenic nitrogen. Their plan was to donate their pristinely preserved climaxing brains to the Neuroscience Institute, for the benefit of science, not the sun, though JenLiz Studios correctly anticipated that the production would be a big hit.
