Voluntary Surrender Of Rights Ch 04

Veronica told Angelica about the joint decision to appoint an adjudication committee in determining whether the enslavement of Greg had progressed to the point where the next step of his surrender of property and rights was correct. Angelica listened in utter awe. They knew their own judgement was and would be clouded and were putting their intended marriage to the test of scrutiny from outside. Angelica agreed to be part of the panel, keen to see who Greg would get, and who the two of them would pick to complete the panel.

She was so impressed that she started making a video about this approach in terms of D/s relationships in general. Her point was that the two people involved seldom analyzed themselves unless it was in a negative light. There was seldom any evaluation before the relationship went into that dynamic. And no real guide to regulate the transition, or advise whether it was healthy.

Veronica and Greg continued to negotiate and iron out their contract, learning about limits, likes, dislikes, and heartfelt desires as they played and experimented. There were sticking points, as tests these went well. Conflicts were settled quickly and decisively by Greg being given the chance to speak his mind, Veronica speaking hers, and then making a call on it the next day.

Veronica got her car, a Jeep Patriot, paid in a single transaction by Greg when she told him what she wanted. He was taking the reins at the golf club, elected to chairman by a landslide as the members realized he had got them to own the land they stood on. From there he put ideas into effect. First was a number of grass tennis courts and a small equestrian center. He discussed this at the AGM of the club and got a mandate as excitement began to build.

Veronica watched him run the club, as he ran it and got things going he also quietly made the members aware that she was in charge. He did it simply by having Janice pay the tiny remuneration stipend directly into Veronica's account. Word got around quickly and far from being condemned or laughed at he was deeply respected. Veronica realized something as she watched him in his kilt stipulating how the stables, tennis courts, and training facilities should be. He was running a campaign of social acceptance while she was running the progress of their relationship.

Three weeks after appointing Angelica as the first adjudicator there was still no indication that Greg was looking for his adjudicator. Veronica ran out of patience. They had cleared one of the cellar storerooms to make a dungeon and she decided to use it. On Saturday night she dressed in her dominatrix outfit as soon as they came home early from golf.

"Strip Slave!" She ordered when she came downstairs.

Greg was standing in the kitchen having just made her coffee and getting the makings out for supper. He looked at her and stripped, his face slightly pale. He knew this would be the first time they used the dungeon. Once naked he stood still, waiting.

"You are supposed to be finding a person to help Angelica adjudicate our progress. This is what you asked for. There has been no observable effort on your part. There has been no communication about whether you are having trouble finding somebody. Angelica is upset, I am too... Speak!"

"I am finding somebody Mistress. I just have to wait for that person to be available. I cannot say this person's name right now as there are sensitivities in this regard."

"So you expect me to buy a Need to Know Basis relationship? No Slave. You do not have that right. You have the obligation to communicate. Crawl down the stairs to the dungeon."

She followed Greg quietly admiring his ass. He still rode, he had used the horses they had bought from Angelica to get Cecilia racing fit. She smiled and breathed a little quicker at that memory: him racing with Cecilia and using riding crop on the jockey to get her to get her ass out of the saddle and still. She still smiled as she thought of Cecilia now. She was racing and doing better than ever before. Cecilia had a standard booking for a session every Tuesday morning when there was no racing. Veronica knew it had nothing to do with Cecilia needing counseling or therapy, she was trying to get the jockey to admit it to herself. That would be the next challenge to her relationship with Greg.

Greg crawled into the dungeon and Veronica opened a large dog cage with a blanket in. She had no intention of beating Greg tonight. She was tired and upset. She couldn't sleep with him either because then they would make love and she would have trouble disciplining him in the morning. This was for his good too, giving space and time to contemplate how she was going to discipline him, review why, and think of how he could change his behavior.

Veronica knew how she was going to punish Greg. It was just going to take time and would need a day. She was confident that Greg would be surprised. She considered what whether she still needed anything as she turned the light off. She had everything, if not she would just need to improvise. She made supper, had a chat with a hooker as she cooked too. Somehow the hookers were still here, despite the madam retiring and being available to take care of the kids.

Her dad had told her that the whole police force knew Greg took care of the kids. They were game to try and take a hooker in but doing it in front of her children was going to get Greg on their asses and nobody wanted that. The hookers sticking around was an expression of trust in both Greg and Veronica. It was also a pressure free friendship because neither would actually hire one of them for a house call, for any call in fact. Veronica had got loads of advise from them and she had helped to keep their kids out of the System, giving them a better chance further down the line.

The hooker went to work as the child minder came in, Veronica heard three other children come in and went to give Greg his supper. He had created was a situation where he had a fantastic local information network as well as an avenue to acceptance across the social spectrum. It was only a very stupid person who still tried to give Greg a hard time about wearing his kilt. And that guy tended find himself getting screwed by the cops and beaten in detention by the hookers. Somehow that was worse than being screwed by hookers and beaten by cops.

Greg ate wordlessly. He drank, and went to the toilet when Veronica opened the cage. She put him back inside and switched out the light. In bed she felt the empty spot beside her like an ache and nearly broke down her resolve to go and get him. She held her resolve though, they need this, to move forward.

Veronica was right about Greg. He was having a hard time. It wasn't the dimensions of the cage, he had spent weeks in more difficult situations. He had been in a lot less sanity conditions too. What was giving him a hard time was his own mind. He knew he had fucked up. He hated disappointing Veronica, simply because she meant so much to him. She only ever punished him if she was disappointed and she had already told him why she was disappointed. He curled up in the cage thinking about his efforts to find another panel member. He had done research, written three essays, and then researched who to send them to. He had sent the essays to five people he respected by reputation and from what he had dug up about them, one had answered positively; the other four were intrigued about the arguments but no more. He should have told Veronica.

It would make no difference if he told her in the morning. She would still punish him because she did not want to extract information from him. She was right too. He had years of survival to get past where not showing or even directly discussing your next move was crucial. It came out in things like this situation now. To him it was a minor issue to not give information about what he was doing, but to Veronica it was major because this was how she evaluated his sincerity.

He thought of all the things in the dungeon designed to hurt and wondered what she would be using. He knew that Chrissie had been teaching her to use a flogger, she had even spent a night or two at the club flogging a few guys to practice. Cecilia had shown Veronica how to use lunging whips, carting whips and of course riding crops. Greg had to admit that the space for lunging whips, bull whips, or carting whips was too constricted. However there was also a hippo leather sjambok that Greg really wanted no part of; he had used one in Kenya and the effect it had was terrible on both parties.

As it was Veronica did surprise him when she switched the lights on and brought him out of the cage. She didn't give him time to stretch; just shoved him to the middle of the floor wordlessly. She had him kneel and secured his hands then hooked the restraints in a hoist and lifted until he was standing on his tip toes. She restrained his ankles in a spreader bar and then she was ready to talk.

"The issue is communication Slave. You are not communicating with me and I am going to teach you how that feels for me. I am not going to silence you through this. I am going to silence myself."

She left, Greg noticed that she was not wearing a leather dominatrix outfit that she preferred but a cheap latex piece extruded by the million in a factory in China somewhere. He wondered why. Then veronica returned with a basin of warm water. She put it on a trolley that was put in the dungeon to hold whatever was needed then wheeled it to him. She left and returned with a pair of hairdressing scissors and a razor.

Greg was wondering how this was going to be punishment as she trimmed the hair in his armpits. Then she trimmed his pubic hair. That was an exercise in fright, he had all sorts of vision about how this could hurt very badly. He felt Veronica put shaving foam under his armpits and shave the hair. All this done without a word. Then she shaved his pubic hair, still without a word. In touching, moving and shaving around his genital Greg got the predictable erection.

The only expression from Veronica was a smile. Then she got some lubricant and started playing with his penis. She watched carefully as she gave him a hand job. When he was close to starting to have fun she would stop jerking him off and massage is balls. She would then stop and massage his ass with the lubricant until he started responding to that and stop.

He started shivering in horniness, he was getting no direction from Veronica but she stopped when he responded and he didn't know what was expected of him. This was horrible! He could handle whips and paddles and belts, those were intended to hurt, he knew the reaction but this was beyond him, to torture with pleasure. She massaged his legs, his ass, his back, blowing on his shaved armpits was an erotic surprise he had not imagined. Through it all Veronica refuse to let his erection subside entirely. As soon as his penis started drooping she would have lubricant and be massaging his testicles and jerking him off until his own reflexes started rocking his hips; and then she would stop to divert his attention and stop him cumming. When she brought him to the edge of cumming for the fourth time he screamed when she stopped. She left him screaming and begging, leaving the dungeon instead, just letting the hoist down a little so that he could stand flat footed.

He stood with a raging erection, a vast and urgent need to ejaculate flood his system. The pain in his balls started as he stood cooling down while Veronica ate breakfast. He felt the bruised, nearly sickening pain of being full of semen, and nowhere to ejaculate. He begged Veronica as soon as she returned from breakfast, he promised he would do better about communicating.

She said nothing. All she did was to force his chastity cage on his dick and lock it. Then the torture continued. She caressed him gently along his sides and over his belly, she massaged his ass cheeks and had him crying out at the pain as the chastity cage stopped his erection and forced his entire body to bend when it could not. Veronica was merciless, carrying on until the cry became a scream of agony. Then she stopped immediately.

Greg stood in the dungeon precum dripping from his penis, agony in his testicles, agony in his lower back, thighs, stomach muscles, and shoulders. He wondered how long this would still carry on. He was crying, not because of the physical pain but because Veronica was not talking to him. No question he asked got answered, no cry or scream of pain drew any response.

He knew from past experience that Veronica would keep this up until she was satisfied that he had had enough. But this time he had nothing to gauge what her idea of having had enough was. The first time she had punished him Chrissie had given excellent lessons. On two other occasions the punishment had followed a similar pattern. This was completely different and he had no idea when it would stop.

Veronica came back with water. She held a bottle up to his lips and let him drink through a straw. He realized that Veronica was a very good judge of physiological manifestation and was treating early dehydration. He drank half the bottle and nodded thanks. Veronica gave pushed a salt tablet into his mouth and made him swallow, he tried but could not swallow pills dry. When Veronica forced his mouth open and saw the tablet still in his mouth she fetched a cane.

It took twelve strokes before she stopped. He had explained that he could not swallow pills dry before the first stroke, clearly he should have told her before she needed to check. She gave him a new pill and made him drink the rest of the bottle. Then she added vitamin pills and another bottle of water. He felt all the water in his stomach and thought of all the torturers he had dealt with in his time as Veronica left to have lunch.

The ISIS guy had been stupid, thinking that if he hurt enough within the parameters for a future prisoner swap he would get information. The lawyer had been impatient and stupid. There had been a guy in Africa who wanted to make an object lesson. A few people from the CIA, less popular MI sections of Britain and Russia had qualifications in physiology, and psychology; they were incredibly precise but seldom had any idea of when to hurt and when to stop pain. None of them had anything on this woman who loved him; she had imagination.

He knew that if she returned and asked for national secrets or a confession of the crimes he had committed she would get all the details.

He was scared when she returned. He had a pee, predictably, his testicles felt as if they were lodged in his intestines, his ass hurt, his legs were trembling; his bladder was full and starting to make him shiver and shake. There were viscous pains all over his abdomen and his arms were on fire while feeling numb. He had looked, there was no circulation trouble really; it was just the time he had been restrained like this.

She changed tactic by putting a vibrator between his legs and letting it work from his scrotum to his rectum. It was a powerful vibrator and as the waves propagated into his liquid filled abdomen; pains and pleasures unimagined started building. He had the agonies of an erection against a stainless steel chastity cage, the intense feeling that he was about to cum, intense pleasure as his bladder started releasing but also intense pain as semen and urine competed for a single very narrow tube. The vibrations were shaking his liver, spleen, gall bladder simultaneously. Even his kidneys were feeling the hammering. His breathing was affected, even his hearing and his vision were affected.

Veronica frightened him all the time. She frightened him every morning when he said hello, simply because he found that he needed to say hello to her. She frightened him almost every day by simply loving him and giving him something to work for. He had been coasting until she had come into his life. She frightened him because she understood his need of her, and she frightened him by having the courage to try and meet it. Now though he was frightened beyond anything in his life, he could do nothing, Veronica was not communicating, and it was unclear if she was listening. He was terrified that this was her saying goodbye and breaking up. He was on the verge of panic when a single word floated to the surface of his mind from memory.

"CARACAS! CARACAS! CARACAS!" He screamed in desperation.

Everything stopped immediately. The vibrator was gone. Veronica hit the emergency release on the hoist and he crumpled to the floor. And then she was hugging him and kissing him. He was crying in fright and pain; contrary to all previous experience Veronica was holding him and getting his restraints off and whispering to him. He fixed on her whispering words, that she loved him; that the punishment was over, that he was forgiven. He was crying in heaving sobs, urine and semen dribbling from the cage. The smell mixed with the smell of gall induced incontinence, sweat, and fear.

Veronica guided him to the toilet and quietly let his body decide the priorities to expel. She hugged him throughout and rolled off toilet paper as he needed it. He recovered most of his composure as he started having control his movements again. He went upstairs with her when the need for the toilet passed and hobbled like an old man. His testicles were literally blue, Veronica had trouble adjusting to that. In the kitchen he had girls scout cookies and coffee as he told Veronica about what he was doing about finding his panel member while also preparing the ground for the third member to be appointed by the first two.

Veronica was impressed, typically for Greg he was using imagination and going way beyond expectation. She made him have an afternoon snooze on the sofa when he finished reporting.

"Mistress? Could you remove this cage please?" he asked as he lay down.

"I will remove that cage when I want it removed from now on Slave. I do not want it off at this stage. So no. I will unlock you after you have slept and cleaned the dungeon."

Until today the cage had only been on while they negotiated and a request for it to come off had always been granted immediately. Veronica had decided that situation would change. First would come the idea that she would decide when it came off and went on, he was going to start wearing it more often and for longer.

He was too tired to argue, despite the pain in his scrotum. He was asleep in a minute, Veronica watched him sleep; wincing every time he moved as the blue balls made their presence known. She smiled at him and read a few articles. She had worried about him not using his safeword and that had been part of the point of the day. She was proud of him for having used it instead of going into panic. Just before waking him up she considered unlocking the cage, she didn't really like it, and she was horny. Deciding against it because she had already set the conditions she woke him up and went to make supper while he cleaned the dungeon.

When Greg got back the roast was in the oven with potatoes and vegetables. Veronica went to inspect and came back. She was satisfied and unlocked Greg then she stepped into his embrace.

"So should we jerk that semen out?" she asked.

"Mistress? That is for you to decide." He said quietly.

Veronica looked up at him, she was having an effect or else she was getting better at reading his eyes. She saw a need in there. She reached up to bring his mouth down for a kiss. Their lips had just locked when she lifted her knee violently. Greg's breath exploded out of his body and his knees buckled.

"It's not only your actions you have to communicate Slave. I cannot fill your needs if you do not tell me. Do we need to return to the dungeon?"

"No Mistress..." Greg breathed on his knees.