The Dionysus Project Ch 04

It was eight thirty and Dean was sitting in his cell after his shower and his morning meal, fearful of the indignities that lay ahead. He knew now, after his first visit to the Treatment Room, that he would be enduring a painful and degrading sexual experience at the hands of these brutal women. Walton told him that the inmates had been allowed to 'discover' that he had offered information about his gang members in exchange for a transfer. He was uncertain whether Walton was telling the truth, but three years in prison had taught him the need for caution.

The door opened and Moriarty stepped into his cell. He rose to his feet, but she motioned to him to sit with a lowering hand.

"Do you mind if I come in?"

He shook his head, but he remained standing so she came to sit on the edge of the bed and patted the blanket beside her, summoning him to join her on the bedclothes.

"Now, Dean, I just want to talk to you away from the others, away from everyone looking at us. These glass walls offer no privacy. You can see everything."

"I know."

She remembered his first day, and the loss of his evening meal. His blank look revealed nothing, but she now regretted the outburst. She could not even recall why she had been so vexed by his simple comment about the file.

"Firstly, I'd want to say how sorry I am that the treatment of you yesterday was ... excessive. It was my fault that I did not stay to stop them hurting you." She was hoping that he would interrupt, telling her that she could not know about Walton and the nurses, but he said nothing. "Well, I just thought it was important for you to know how sorry I am about yesterday." She held his hands and examined the bandages covering his thumbs. "Do they still hurt?"

"Yes." She was hoping for a different answer.

"There is something you should know, Dean, about our project, the Dionysus Project. Well." She paused for a moment. "I've invented, or at least I believe I've invented, a means of increasing the size of a man's penis." Another pause. "I can make your dick larger."

"I've never worried about my ... penis, Miss. I hope that doesn't sound like boasting."

They both looked down on his member, which, she was slightly disappointed to notice, was limp against his thigh. Her presence was not arousing him.

"Is it dangerous?"

"No." Moriarty feigned a laugh.

"Then it will hurt?"

"Why do you say that?" She was less dismissive now.

"If you offered almost any man a painless and safe way to have a larger cock, they would all agree. I am here because you cannot find free men for the treatment."

Moriarty smiled, and touched his thigh.

"You're a very smart young man, Dean. You're right. It will sting, but if you're to become a great ... adult entertainment artist, you'll need to have as big a cock as possible. How does that sound?"

"Fine." She found his answers unconvincing, and she was uncertain whether this visit to his cell, his refuge, had been a good idea. Walton advised her to go to his cell whenever she needed to confide some bad news or to make additional demands. Her visits also offered her the chance to sit by his side, touching his body and talking to him, as if with a friend, a naked friend with a magnificent body and a huge penis. He appeared distant and unsettled, still fearful after his first visit to The Treatment Room, but Moriarty knew that he would learn to endure these sacrifices for the sake of the Dionysus Project.

"You must also be shameless. This will be difficult, but you can learn. Cindi, Tiffany and Kimberley, along with Dr Walton, are a necessary evil. They will teach you how to become accustomed to these ... performances. You must learn to complete sex acts in public. We want you to be able to masturbate in front of complete strangers. I recall that Miss Patterson and I explained all this to you in the prison when you agreed to join us."

She leant forward and touched his shoulder where a tattoo once declared his loyalty to The Diablos. She never missed an opportunity to touch his former badge, as if to remind him how he came to be part of the Dionysus Project.

"There is something else that you must accept, Dean." She laid her hand again on his thigh. His flesh was warm and firm, and she could not muster the willpower to take it away. "I must treat you as a research subject, as a sex object, whenever we are in public. It makes it easier for you as well. I want you to know that I am always trying my best to keep you from harm, but sometimes, well sometimes, it is going to hurt. It's a bit like going to the dentist. It hurts while you are there, but it's all for the best in the end. Who wants rotten teeth?"

He smiled, and she clutched his thigh, feeling the taut skin and the muscle beneath, and she imagined taking hold of his buttocks, gripping him tightly as he drove his massive erection between her legs, forcing her apart as he mounted her on his bed. He would lay a hand behind her head as he entered her, filling her as he gazed upon her with his shining blue eyes.

"I know that you are looking after me, Doctor Moriarty. I trust you." He offered her a radiant smile, and for a moment, just a moment, she hesitated before offering him a bland smile.

"Good. I know that I can trust you, but just to be sure I want you to perform for me."

"Perform?"

"I need to know that you can be ... open. We told you that there would be probation, when we would test you. If you don't feel that you can do as we ask, then we can find someone else, but I know that you can perform, you can perform for me."

"What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to masturbate for me, just like you did for the nurses yesterday."

There was a moment's delay, a terrifying instant when she thought that he would refuse, before he stroked his shaft, holding the loose flesh with his fingertips. He slipped his finger over the moist tip as the flesh began to expand. Moriarty tried not to stare as the muscle straightened before her eyes.

"You will need to find some image, some memory, that will arouse you quickly, Dean. The nurses and Dr Walton will not be as understanding as I am."

"I'll try, Miss. I promise."

Moriarty touched his arm in gratitude as she left him to sit in the chair near the door.

"Now, I want you to stand before me. I want you to put on a show, for me. You will need to practise your technique or Dr Walton will send you back. I can offer you advice, help you become a better ... performer. You want to be a success?

"I do, Miss," he replied, coming to stand before her. He was now fully erect, eagerly massaging the shaft.

"Move your hips back and forth as well as rubbing yourself. Good. Now, put your other hand behind your back. We want no distractions. Rub vigorously, pump as hard as you can. Good, now nice and slowly. Excellent. You need to be in control, Dean. You need to be able to delay your orgasm. Women will not pay good money to watch you spill your load after thirty seconds. This is hard work, Dean, and I want to help you."

"I know, Dr Moriarty."

For the next ten minutes Moriarty enjoyed a private show, as Dean followed her instructions, caressing his own body, spreading his legs wider and moving closer to her face with his penis tip. She thought him a convincing actor, and congratulated him on his performance. He was grateful for her praise and thanked her for helping him to prepare for Walton and the nurses.

"I will come and talk with you here in your cell as often as I can, but please remember that outside these walls you are pretending to be a slave and I am pretending to be your Mistress. If the nurses find out the truth, they will report you and me to the Corporation. I will be sacked and you will return to the prison. Do you want that?"

He shook his head, and she smiled as she rose to her feet, turning him around as she reached into her coat pocket for the cuffs. The sound of the metal closing and the sense of her control over his bound body gave her a sexual thrill that dried her mouth and sent a quiver down her spine.

"Now we have to start work. Let's go, and remember about how to behave in public."

She led him from his cell and she noticed that he trembled when he realised that he was going back into the Treatment Room. She was pleased to note the effect of his first visit. He was becoming more compliant with each day under her control.

"Don't worry, Dean, you'll be safe with me."

The table in the Treatment Room had been set vertical with Kimberley and Tiffany standing waiting to leash him to the plastic moulding and tilt him back onto the stand. They each grasped an arm and forcefully tied him to the board. A few seconds later the prisoner was bound hand and foot to the perforated plastic plank.

Moriarty retrieved a syringe from her desk. She released a small dose of the red liquid into the air before kneeling down, dabbing the base of his shaft with a swab and inserting the needle. Dean winced as the spike sank into his skin, but within seconds the discomfort was replaced by warmth that spread the entire length of his penis. By the time Moriarty had returned the syringe to the desk and turned to examine her patient his member had become solidly erect.

"Good," she told him. "You respond well to my special preparation. The technical name is as long as ... your cock. It will help you perform. In the months and years to come, Dean, you will come to be grateful for a dose of my potion before a performance."

She held up a metal tube, about eighteen inches long, and placed it over Dean's erection. "Now, let me place my instrument over your instrument. Then we close the lid and press my little button." She looked at the gauge as the red numbers flickered for a moment before issuing the result. "Twenty five point two six centimetres. That's impressive, Dean, but I think we can do better. I intend to take you out another ... five centimetres. What do you think about that?"

"If that's what you want, Miss."

Moriarty removed the tube, took hold of his erect penis and massaged the tip, drawing her finger over the opening. She began to reach into the slit with her finger and within a few seconds she was able to work a wider breach. She then pressed a small clear tube into his exposed urethra and he smarted from the pain as the hardened plastic sank into his erect tool.

"Please, Dean," she whispered. "It will only hurt while I insert the tube. The sooner I am done, the sooner you will feel better." She laid a hand on his chest to comfort him. "Nearly there," she said, offering him a smile.

The plastic rod was about a foot long, so it reached the base of his penis with about five centimetres protruding from the tip. Dean was gasping with pain as Moriarty filled the tube with a green fluid through a needle. She touched Dean's bound arm.

"It will be fine, Dean. Be brave."

Moriarty then left, leaving Cindi to send the electrical current into the tube to heat the serum while she joined Walton in the adjacent room to watch the first session of the treatment. They watched him struggle with his bonds as the current coursed through his penis, heating the tube to send the growth serum into the muscle. The nurses bound his chest, knees and neck to the table as he fought against the pain, shouting at him to be still. A flurry of slaps failed to quieten him, so he was gagged to stem the moans.

"That doesn't look much fun."

"I know, but there's a lot of money out there sitting in women's purses just waiting to be spent on high quality erotic entertainment. I intend to get hold of some of that cash and my own Greek god will help me get it."

"Kerry, I sometimes think you're the most ruthless woman I've ever met, and I've met some real bitches in my time."

Dean's first 'expansion' session lasted more than three hours, but he was allowed just half an hour to rest and shower before he was returned to the Treatment Room for his session with Walton. Once again he was strapped into place and left waiting for more than an hour.

Eventually she strolled into the room, once more examining his bonds.

"Good afternoon, Dean. It is time we began our sessions. I am here to teach you the benefits of ... obedience." He breathed deeply as she fondled his scrotum and let her fingers wander towards his anus. She slipped her middle finger into the muscle.

"Do you like that?"

"Yes, Miss."

"I doubt it, but you have learnt that you are here to please me, to please the nurses, but above all, to please Dr Moriarty. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Miss."

"Good. Now I'm going to play with your cock. Do you mind?"

"No, Dr Walton."

"I'm making fun of you, Dean, by asking permission. Do you realise that it does not matter what you think? I would no more ask your opinion than ask my dog."

She massaged the tip of his penis, sliding the inside of her fingers along the top of the shaft.

"You have no choice because you're strapped to this table. Soon you will come to realise that, whether you are bound or not, you have no choice. You will be staying here, to entertain us, for some time. We will train you like a dog, to be our pet."

She vigorously rubbed his cock, forcing him to beg her to stop.

"I can do anything I like, and I will. Dr Moriarty believes that I am here to help you, to prepare you for your lucrative porn star career, but actually I only accepted this job so that I could get my hands on some A grade captive cock. We have an hour together for the next few weeks. That does not give me much time to teach you some lessons."

She placed the clamps on his thumbs and toes, setting the teeth on the bandages from the previous day's outrage. Then she inserted a plug into his anus because "no decent conditioning should neglect your tender arsehole." She held her hand over his erection and forced him to rub himself towards an orgasm. Today the bonds were loose enough to allow him to pound his cock into her hand until, to a clamour of grunts, he shed his milky load into her palm.

She wiped her hands on his chest in a gesture of sheer contempt after he completed his task. Then, after vigorously washing her hands and removing her dark blue Armani jacket to reveal a sunshine yellow blouse covering a fulsome chest, she began her conditioning session in earnest.

Walton orchestrated his torment through simple means such as stretching the ropes, a handful of mild electrical doses from the clamps and liberal use of the anal plug. His genitals were out of bounds, but Walton was a resourceful tormentor and he was in tears within half an hour. The constant repetitive questioning was clearly having the desired effect, and she was confident that he would be fully compliant within Moriarty's highly demanding schedule. By the end of the hour he was smothered in sweat, trembling at the sight of Walton with her clamps. She was content with his progress and, after a farewell blast through his anus, left him for the nurses to administer his next ordeal.