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Synopsis: My adoration from afar (based a bit on a real life crush I had) turns into a hellish nightmare of severe torture. Codes = F/m, torture, non-consensual.
Copyright © Ted Underfoot
This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. To view a copy of this license, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/2.5/ or send a letter to:
171 Second Street, Suite 300
San Francisco, California 94105
I would like to tell you about a woman who was the love of my life 25 years ago, a somewhat popular though not mainstream musical artist Lana Puhl. I would like to tell you but I can’t because my words cannot do justice to her beauty, inside and out, as well as her musical genius. I was not the only man in love with Lana from afar, far from it, though I believe that many men were in love with her looks more than with her inner beauty and passion for life which was obvious to me from her music and interviews.
25 years ago was before the internet so information about musical artists was more difficult to obtain. In Lana’s case, despite her popularity, she maintained an air of mystery about her personal life, although she did appear on some talk shows. Whenever I saw or heard her, whether in a music video, in an interview, or even in her songs, I was in love. I had felt crushes from afar before seeing Lana but the feelings I had for Lana went far beyond that.
I remember telling an Aunt of mine of my love for Lana even going so far to reveal that I would marry Lana in a heartbeat, if I could. My Aunt, of course, scoffed at me. I knew that this was a pipe dream because there wasn’t a chance in the world that I would ever come close to meeting her, or even go to her concert because she didn’t perform except on albums. Not to mention that I had only one girlfriend before and that relationship hadn’t been particularly special. I wasn’t intentionally saving my love for Lana but she did have all of it. I wish I could say that no other women I met measured up to Lana but the truth is that I was so introverted and shy that I never met women my age other than in passing.
I wrote letters to Lana letting her know how I feel about her and her music. In retrospect, even though I was an adult in my early 20s these letters were very childish and hopelessly romantic in a silly way. Women typically do not want to be adored by someone they haven’t met but I was wrapped up in my own silly fantasy. I meant it, though, when I said to my Aunt that I would marry Lana in a heartbeat.
After my fifth letter to Lana over the course of three years, I actually received a response. My heart was racing as I opened the letter but it had only a brief typed message “Thank you for your interest in Ms. Puhl. Please support her by buying her albums and telling your friends about her.”
It was better than nothing! I knew it was foolish to get excited about the letter but I immediately went to work writing up a thank you letter which I mailed the next day. Despite the realization that she was probably not reading my letters at all and one of her staff had answered the letter, I gushed all of the love I could fit into my response.
And a week later my life changed forever. To my utter amazement Lana herself responded. Her letter had a beautiful scent inside and her delicate handwriting almost mesmerized me. It said “Dear Ted, thank you for the wonderful letters you have sent me. Please tell me more about yourself with as much detail as you are willing to reveal including a picture. My eyes will be shining in anticipation of your response. All my love, Lana.”
As I read her letter my heart was beating rapidly and I could barely catch my breath. “Shining Eyes” and “All My Love” are two of my favorite songs of hers. Deep inside I knew that there was a possibility that someone else had written this or even that the letter had been intercepted and I was being played like a fool. But even if there was only a small chance it was from her …. Just thinking about it made me almost faint and I had to lie down for a few minutes.
It may seem strange to normal people that I would have a reaction like this. It seems a bit strange even to me now 25 years later. But my feelings were real, albeit naive. I felt like I had died and gone to heaven.
Did I respond with details? Of course. Did I include too many details? Probably, although her letter indicated to include as much detail as I was willing to reveal and there are no boundaries to that. I knew that there was a chance that I would bore her but I included everything anyway. My letter was 10 handwritten pages front and back and I stayed up all night without sleep to finish it. I included a couple of pictures of myself from when I had been at a photo booth a year ago.
I told her about my difficult issues including early childhood attitude problems and how those were corrected with discipline, my fear and awe of women in general, and my lack of friends in general. I also told her of my love of her music and of other music, poetry, and art. I even told her of my love for her even though I had to push myself to get over my barriers in expressing my true feelings. Simply writing the letter increased the love I felt for her due to my pride in being able to express my true feelings. I didn’t even feel the effects of lack of sleep at work the next day as my head was still in the clouds.
That night after I sent the letter I regretted going into so much detail, not because I wanted to keep details private but because I felt that she would hate receiving such a long letter plus I was worried she might judge my shortcomings as harshly as I judged them. I cried off and on for much of the evening.
I usually feel judged, especially by women, and this situation was both more and less comfortable than usual. More comfortable because I felt that I already knew her from her music and interview and was past most of my own barriers in being able to express myself with her. Less comfortable because this was the most important thing in my life. I felt that if I lost my job and all of my money but received a wonderful response from Lana Puhl, I would be a happy man. I know how ridiculous this is but it was the truth. I was in my early 20s but with the emotions of a 14 year old at best.
Maybe if I had internet chat rooms at the time to explore my own emotions, that could have given me the freedom to break through my shyness. But that doesn’t matter now. Lana Puhl was the only outlet for all of the love I felt and she was the love of my life, even though we would likely never meet.
The day after I sent the letter was much better as I had cried out all of the regret and was satisfied in the knowledge that I did exactly what Lana had told me to do. I can never go wrong with that even if the results aren’t what I hope for.
Exactly one week later I received a letter in response. I hesitated to open it because it meant the difference between a life of happiness and a life of sadness. It is funny sometimes to look back at the overwrought emotions of teenagers but I wasn’t a teenager and my emotional well-being did hang on the contents of the letter.
The letter was not what I had hoped for. It was much better.
The letter said “Lovely Ted, thank you very much! I love your style and you are not heartless in the least.” Love Your Style and Heartless are two of her other great songs. The letter continued “Would you consent to meet with me here in my recording studio? A representative would pick you up and drive you to the airport and I would cover all of your expenses including a suite in one wing of my estate. I would like you to help me write the lyrics for my next album. You could stay as long as you like! If so, then just name a day and time for my representative to pick you up from your home. All my love, Lana.”
I hugged the letter to my breast and cried in joy. I had to re-read the letter three times to make sure that I hadn’t misunderstood it from the excitement.
Later, once I had regained my composure, I thought about the magnitude of what was being asked of me. Despite my immature emotional development and naivete, I did have some self-esteem and worried that putting myself in the hands of someone I didn’t know would be risky. I calmed my emotions to think it through rationally as an intelligent human being.
To alleviate my concerns for safety, I could set up a series of calls with my parents who would be instructed to call the police if they didn’t hear from me as expected. But where would the police know to go? I could ask for Lana’s address and I could even let her know that I would be making these calls. But what if they take me to a different address from what they indicate to me? If there was danger in this meeting then they could easily just give me the wrong address.
I did not have an answer for this. Once I get off the plane and they start driving me around, I would be at their mercy. They could just shoot me while I was in the back seat of the car, they could overpower me, or they could do most anything to me without recourse. I simply could not think of a way to safeguard myself in this situation.
I could refuse the offer to be picked up by her staff but that would be quite demanding and confrontational and I didn’t have that in me. I trusted that the record company address I had been sending my letters to was the one listed on her album covers and I just had to trust that she was really the one sending me the letters in response, or at worst it would be her representative and I had confidence that Lana would not approve of anyone who was not of the best caliber of person representing her.
I decided to go with my instincts, which was to trust her. Once I made this decision my heart lightened because I felt that this meeting could become a reality.
The next day at work I told my boss that beginning in two weeks I would be on a one week vacation and that night I wrote a letter to Lana gratefully accepting the invitation for one week and listing a date and approximate time in the late afternoon or an alternate approximate time the following morning to pick me up to go to the airport. I requested a confirmation phone call or return mail and one week later received a letter of confirmation which was generic and apparently not directly from Lana. The letter indicated that I should pack light for the early evening pickup as I would be provided the clothing I would need as well as anything else I would want or need.
As the day of departure arrived I went ahead and packed the minimum of what I would need for a one week trip as well as a couple of books to read on the plane. I called my parents and let them know that I wouldn’t be able to make the weekly call to them next week although I did not share what was going on as I felt that they would not understand and my scenario of a safe call would not work in this situation. I did not have any close friends to tell and I figured the mail can pile up as I get only bills and advertisements, when I am not receiving mail from the woman of my absolute dreams.
Part of me wondered if I was just being played like a fool and no-one would show up … until the limousine arrived at my apartment at the scheduled time. I felt like a prince as I strolled out with the driver who held the limo door open for me. With my gangly legs stretched out in front of me in the limo I turned on the CD player to listen to one of Lana’s beautiful songs. I had never been in a limousine before and marveled at how alcohol could be served in a car but I guess with the driver’s compartment closed off it was legal to serve alcohol in the back. I do not drink alcohol at all so this was just interesting to me.
Also interesting to me was how at ease I felt once I stepped out of my apartment. I do not make decisions easily and this one could change my life in a huge way so it was not surprising to me that I had been nervous for the past couple of weeks. But once I stepped out of my apartment I became almost like another person: cool, calm, and deliriously happy.
My newfound confidence and self-assuredness lasted throughout the several hour flight. Once off the plane I found the limousine driver holding up a sign with my name and he too held the limo door open for me.
As the limo pulled away from the airport my excitement level began to grow and I found it difficult to sit still. I tried to concentrate on the beautiful scenery moving past the window but all I could think of was the first words I would say. The extra confidence I had been feeling was replaced by my usual self-doubt and I had to focus on my breathing to remain calm.
The drive to Lana’s estate seemed like the longest drive I had ever been on. My watch said it took only 45 minutes, though, as we pulled into a wide driveway with a large gate opened via remote control held by the limo driver.
As I expected, the estate grounds were huge with ample room for the horses which I know Lana loves from what she has said in interviews. After driving a few minutes to the huge mansion I felt as though I was in a very different land, a sort of playground for rich lords and nobles.
Once I stepped out of the car and began to walk between marble columns towards the grand front door, the limo drove away and I was alone. I paused for a minute to simply marvel at my situation. Even the air seemed different here, fresher.
When I reached the huge front doors of the mansion I rang the bell and a butler ushered me in to wait in the entrance hall while he stepped away to announce my arrival. This was the moment of truth for me and I suddenly became a bundle of nerves.
My moods usually swing hot and cold and I am used to my emotions dropping 10,000 feet in 10 seconds so I was able to avoid knocking my knees together or otherwise showing my nerves, except perhaps with my facial expressions.
The butler was returning and I held my breath. Instead of Lana, though, a man entered the room to greet me. He offered his hand and introduced himself as Stan, seeming very informal in this grand atmosphere. I shook his hand and introduced myself and said “You are Lana’s brother. I recognize you from a couple of her interviews.”
Stan seemed a bit embarrassed or perhaps unused to the attention of being idolized. I did not mean to make him uncomfortable but having worked with Lana on her music as he did, not to mention living with Lana for many years growing up, made Stan an A list celebrity in my world and I could not hide my adulation from my face or tone of voice.
After a moment of awkwardness, Stan welcomed me to the house and led me into a series of rooms towards where he said I would be staying. Along the way he asked how my trip was and I commented on a couple of the paintings I saw as we passed. I was proud of myself for not tripping all over myself in the presence of a celebrity and in this atmosphere.
Stan and I went through a door at the end of a hallway and the atmosphere changed from majestic to plain as we descended a dimly lit staircase which wound back and forth twice before ending at a solid heavy door. Stan unlocked the door and we were greeted by cool air which seemed to escape from the sealed room.
The space past the door was dark and, strangely, Stan stepped aside and asked me to enter ahead of him.
One of my positive traits is that I am able to sense when something is not as I expect it to be. I like surprises and change in general and I am good at detecting when something is wrong. Most everyone can do this but I feel as though I am a bit more alert to this sort of thing than most people.
I felt a red flag, something seemed wrong here.
I said to Stan “Why is it dark in there?”
Stan remained casual and I did not sense any danger from him when he said “Nothing to be worried about, the presentation won’t be the same if you are not in the room when I turn the lights on.”
My red flag turned to bright green. They were going to surprise me with something wonderful. I could see it in Stan’s manner. I only hesitated a couple of seconds but in that time I could see in my mind Lana Puhl standing there in one of her attractive and skimpy costumes from one of her music videos ready to perform one of her songs with her band all ready for me. I knew that this grandiose of a presentation was unrealistic but I felt that something good was about to occur.
So I walked into the dark room ahead of Stan and onto the stone floor. In retrospect I do not know that I had a real choice as it would have seemed more than just strange to balk now after a trip of several hours. As it turned out, it was a very momentous decision in my life.
Stan entered the room behind me and turned on the lights before shutting the door with the sound of an extra click of a lock. Lana was not there. Her band was not there. No-one was there except Stan and me. And a prison cell.
We had entered a large room which had a set of dark solid metal bars enclosing a prison cell. The larger portion of the room which was not behind bars had a table containing cleaning materials such as a mop and a bucket and a couple of somewhat comfortable chairs. The cell itself was small and had only a small bed, a sink, and a toilet. There was a heavy closed door in another part of the room in addition to the heavy door I had just entered. The air was cool from an air conditioning system.
After I had spent several seconds in surprise looking over the room, I turned to Stan and he said “Surprise!” in a sort of mocking tone.
I said “What is this about?”
He said “This is where you will be staying. Get in the cell.” He took several steps towards a door to the cell and opened the cell door.
I didn’t move. I was hesitant to become confrontational and said “Why should I stay in the cell?”
Stan replied “Do you want to see Lana or not?” His tone of voice was challenging to me, as if he was daring me to decline the invitation. It was clear to me that unless he was joking I would need to get in the cell or else be sent away. And if he was joking then it didn’t matter what I did.
I considered my options. It was unthinkable to squander my opportunity at seeing the woman I loved, the woman of my dreams. I simply couldn’t let it happen.
I walked into the cell and Stan shut the bars behind me and locked the door with a key. Without saying a word Stan turned around and walked towards the door to leave the room. I said “When do I get to see Lana?” Stan did not respond and simply left.
I was thankful that Stan had not turned off the light but otherwise I felt abandoned, betrayed. Stan is very cool in the interviews I have seen and was personable with me. What on earth was the purpose of this?
To my relief I only waited 10 minutes before the heavy door to the room opened again. I rose from sitting on the small bed to see the most beautiful sight I had ever experienced.
Lana Puhl stood before my cage.
I cannot say how she was dressed because I was transfixed. Not only was she beautiful but she was the embodiment of my dreams and fantasies turned into real flesh and blood in front of me. I was suddenly confronted with all of my deepest desires and I could not move.
Lana said “Hello Ted.” She actually spoke to me.
I managed to say “Hello Lana” and she quickly corrected me to say “Mistress Puhl” which I repeated.
The next thing she said amplified my feeling that this was not reality, that I was living a dream. Mistress Puhl said “Take off your clothes. Let me see you.”
I was overloaded with confusion. I could barely move a muscle as it was and now I was told to do something which did not make any sense.
She said with more emphasis “Take off your clothes. Are you deaf?”
That was a question I could answer so I said “No” and then her command registered. Take off my clothes? Why of course there truly was nothing I wouldn’t do for the amazing Mistress Puhl. Without giving it a second thought I took off my shoes, socks, shirt, pants, and underwear to stand naked in front of my Goddess.
Mistress Puhl giggled a bit. She has a very lovely laugh. She said “Hand me your clothes” so I fed them through the bars.
This was the most surreal experience I could imagine. Here I was naked and caged in front of the woman who until now was only a wonderful dream to me. I felt that I was in way too deep but within the glow of her presence I was not afraid.
Once Mistress Puhl had set my clothes aside she said “So Ted, what are you feeling?”
I replied “I am feeling honored to be in your presence, Mistress Puhl.”
She said “You don’t feel victimized or scared?”
I responded “No, Mistress Puhl, I feel as if I have died and gone to heaven. Thank you for having me here.”
She giggled a bit and said “You realize that I will keep you here for as long as I want, right?”
In her letter she had said that I could leave anytime I wanted but my presence in the jail cell had already belied that. Basking in her glow I did not want to leave. I said “Yes, Mistress Puhl” and smiled.
She looked at me and paused, and I felt that she was looking right through the bars of the cell into the depths of my being. I felt unworthy and I wanted to run away from fear of rejection or scorn but I knew that my actions were no longer my decision. In this prison cell I was completely hers and would remain under her scrutiny for as long as she wanted.
Mistress Puhl said “I always wondered what it would be like to lure a sycophantic fan here. Sit down.” I sat on the bed while she pulled up one of the comfortable chairs to near the bars of the cell. Here I was having a chat with the woman of my dreams. Despite my feeling of being unworthy, the cell and my stark nakedness made me feel completely owned and property does not worry about being worthy.
She continued “As you can imagine I get letters all of the time from fans, but none have been as reverential as yours. I must say that you charmed me and once I saw your picture I decided to lure you here.
“You are probably wondering why I have a dungeon in my home. Let’s just say that I have some unusual ways of obtaining pleasure and you will find out about that soon.”
She let that statement linger. I was in awe of her and of my situation. I don’t think that I fully understood what she was trying to say but there were a couple of statements which stood out: I charmed her with my letters and my picture and I would find out about her unusual pleasure.
After a pause she said “Tell me what you are feeling.”
It is difficult to explain my comments or actions other than to say that I was truly under her spell. I had been under her spell for many years and now in person I felt like I had a new personality, a personality of one who was completely and utterly owned.
I told her “I love you, Mistress Puhl. I have always loved you and I will always love you.”
She smiled and my declaration seemed justified. I added “I am the happiest man on earth.”
Mistress Puhl said “Ted, you poor deluded fool. It looks like I need to be more direct because I’m not getting through.” She leaned forward and said in a bit louder voice “I am going to torture you in my dungeon for years and you are never going to escape. I am going to enjoy watching you squirm and hearing you scream in agony. Do you understand? You are my slave for the rest of your life.”
There were too many emotions going on for me to register everything she had just said. The idea of torture did not make any sense. I would suffer anything to be with the true love of my life and if I could participate in her unusual pleasures then it would be my absolute joy, it would not be torture.
But she was trying to scare me and make me feel victimized, that much I understood. I tried to focus on what she had just said and it did not take me long to realize that if I took her literally it would be very scary indeed.
She noticed my concerned look and giggled a bit, saying “Ted, I think you are finally understanding. I will leave you to think about it. Try getting some rest.” She stood up to leave and I said “Mistress Puhl, when will I see you again?” and she responded “Soon, my pet.”
She turned off the light and locked the heavy door behind her. I was alone and in a pitch dark prison cell.
I was given many hours to sit in the dark and think about my situation. Lana Puhl spoke to me. She not only spoke to me but she wanted to see me naked. She asked how I felt, twice. She even tried to scare me.
I was in heaven. That lasted for about an hour and then reality set in. I was not talking with Mistress Puhl. I was imprisoned in the dark with no food and very little comfort. As I lay on the bed I began to wonder if she meant what she said when she talked about torture. If she wanted me to be her slave, then that would be great with me as long as I spent time with her. But torture was a different issue.
I decided that the reason she threatened me with torture was to make me a good slave.
Wait, did she say that I would be here for years? And am I thinking about how good it would be to be a slave?
The potential reality hit me like a ton of bricks.
She said torture. Even if she was joking or exaggerating, it was a form of torture to just threaten me not to mention imprison me with no food for hours. I was able to fumble around in the dark and tilt my head to drink from the faucet in the sink but after a couple of hours my stomach started to growl as the last thing I had eaten was a snack on the plane.
Reality is sometimes not my friend. When life hits me with a ton of bricks I usually curl up in my bed and go to sleep. So it was not an unfamiliar sensation I was feeling and I went back to my old standby except that it wasn’t my own bed I was curling up into. And when I woke up I would probably still be lying under the ton of bricks.
I slept for probably an hour but I had no real way of knowing. After verifying that the toilet functions, I started moving around to do some exercise after carefully judging the distances from the cell bars to the bed and to the sink. Exercise didn’t help much so I just lay in the bed and tried to let the time pass until Mistress Puhl re-entered the room. This was not a good strategy because my mind kept going back to the word torture.
The way Mistress Puhl said the word “torture” was very strange, as if she had a passion for it. “I am going to torture you … hearing you scream in agony.” It was almost musical the way she said this. If this were one of her music videos I would applaud how deeply she got into character which is one of her many beautiful attributes.
I decided to internally recite the lyrics to all of her songs. That took a couple of hours and helped calm me down. Then I cried and fell asleep.
I woke to the light being turned on and my eyes had a difficult time adjusting at first. Mistress Puhl pulled up a comfortable chair and sat down in it, watching me sit up in the bed. My head was hurting somewhat from having cried myself to sleep and from the light.
She said “Did you have a nice evening?”
The ability to lie is a talent I sorely lack. As a pre-teen I tried lying a few times just to see what would happen but it became far too much trouble having to remember what I lied about so I reverted back to just telling the truth. I tell the truth to a fault and sometimes cause unnecessary discomfort. As an example, at work one time when my boss asked me if I enjoyed my job I told her the truth which was that I was only working there for the money. I do not go out of my way to tell people something uncomfortable, on the contrary the issues occur when I am asked a question. I simply do not answer with a lie.
To Mistress Puhl’s question I could tell her that I had a wonderful evening and attempt to talk myself into her good graces but that was not my nature. I responded “I am very scared, Mistress Puhl.”
She asked in a neutral tone of voice “What are you afraid of?”
I replied honestly “You, Mistress Puhl.”
From the smile on her beautiful face, I think that was the answer she was hoping for. After a slight pause she said “Lie down on the floor on your stomach with your hands clasped behind your back.” Without hesitation I did as I was told. It was not yet fear which drove me towards obedience, at this point it was still adoration which filled my thoughts whenever she was near.
Mistress Puhl unlocked and opened the door to the cell and as I turned my head in her direction while on the floor I noticed for the first time that she was wearing stiletto heels. As I had expected she cuffed my hands together behind my back and I felt relief that the metal cuffs were lined with a soft material to avoid chaffing on my wrists. The cuffs each made a distinct click once they were locked in.
Mistress Puhl walked around me slowly, apparently looking over the backside of my naked body, or perhaps stalking her prey. I felt fear, certainly, but I also felt a sense of purpose as a captive of my Goddess and I felt something else pleasant which I now identify as submission. I was completely in the hands of the love of my life and whatever fate she decided for me would be my pleasure, even torture and agony. I allowed my body to relax in submission.
She placed her foot on me and I felt the stiletto heel dig a bit into my upper arm. I felt pain but it was not strong and I was able to avoid groaning or moving at all. She removed her foot and placed it in another area of my body, this time the middle of my upper back, and then another area and another, for approximately one or two dozen seconds each. Eventually, many parts of the back of my body below my neck had felt the pressure of her stiletto heel and I could not completely avoid groaning from the mild to moderate pain.
Then she pressed her heel against the back of my neck and let the pressure linger for a minute. It wasn’t particularly painful but I did feel especially vulnerable knowing that if she lost her balance or just made a decision, she could probably kill me with the stiletto heel through my neck. Despite that, or because of that, I relaxed my body further and let my submission wash over my thoughts. With her heel on my neck I didn’t move an inch and barely breathed.
Mistress Puhl then stepped off me and pulled my hair upward, telling me to get up onto the bed. With some difficulty due to not having the use of my hands and being pulled up by the hair, I was able to sit up on the bed and she sat next to me.
She looked at me and smiled. I know that it does not seem reasonable under the circumstances but I was very happy in my submission to my Goddess and I smiled back with deep love in my eyes and in my heart.
She asked “Are you hungry?” and I said “Yes, Mistress Puhl.” Once she had entered the room I had not thought about my hunger at all until she mentioned it. She told me “Just address me as Mistress from now on” and I said “Yes, Mistress.”
Mistress produced a small bag from which she retrieved an apple and a small knife. She cut off a small piece of apple and held it up to my mouth. I was incredulous that this most superior wonderful amazing Goddess would concern herself with feeding pathetic me and I was almost overwhelmed with love and gratitude. What had I done to deserve such a wonderful situation?
With my hands cuffed behind my back, Mistress fed me the apple and then fed me bite-sized treats which had been prepared. The treats were some sort of cracker with what tasted like peanut butter on it but it was prepared in a fancy way and with other ingredients I did not recognize. I did not question her, of course, and I would have eaten rocks if that is what she had fed me. After eating the apple and the cracker treats I was fed bite-sized chunks of warm marinated meat which appeared to be prepared as small appetizers. Between courses of this gourmet meal Mistress allowed me to drink water from a straw in a cup which she had brought in her small bag.
The meal lasted several minutes and it was about the strangest meal I ever ate. I remembered back to when she left me here the first time she greeted me when she called me pet. I felt like a pet during this meal even down to the smiles she gave me. As embarrassed as I was, it also felt natural and good to be my Goddess’ pet.
Towards the end of the meal I was getting accustomed to my pet status and, feeling good, I began to have a physical reaction to the pleasure I was feeling. My penis had become erect. Mistress noticed it and gave me a beautiful smile as she continued to feed me. My face probably turned beet red but that did not lessen my physical reaction which lasted until the end of the meal.
This was not anything like how I had fantasized meeting the beautiful Lana Puhl. But it was still wonderful.
It is interesting how something wonderful can turn into a nightmare. That is one of the major effects of being under someone else’s control. With freedom, when we see a situation turning sour we can often sidestep or avoid it or sometimes modify the situation itself. Without freedom, we are often doomed to meet the nightmare head on.
Once the meal was over Mistress wrapped a blindfold over my eyes and led me by the arm to walk naked and handcuffed out of the cell and slowly through the heavy door into the next room. I felt as though a moment of truth was at hand and I became afraid. I was still wrapped in a cocoon of submission with no choice but even without the stress of choice I became very anxious and troubled. I was not used to being blindfolded with my hands cuffed behind my back and at first I was afraid that my bare feet would stumble over something but then my fear became focused on Mistress’ earlier use of the word torture.
I was led to sit in a cushioned reclining chair and then I felt some sort of helmet lowering into place completely enclosing my head. The helmet had internal padding which pressed against and completely blocked my ears from hearing anything although there seemed to be an air hole as I was able to breathe. With most of my senses blocked I felt my ankles restrained by metal cuffs to the recliner portion of the chair and then she reached around my back to unlock the handcuffs from my wrists which were then restrained to the arms of the chair. Then my chest and thighs were tightly restrained by hard straps against the chair. I was unable to move any part of my body with the exception of wiggling my hands, feet, and lips.
Sensory deprivation gave me very strange emotions. I enjoyed the cocoon aspect and somehow the loss of control was comforting since I was in Mistress’ presence. But I felt too detached from the woman of my dreams and could not experience her beauty through sight or sound. Also, I was afraid.
After a minute I felt Mistress’ fingertips gently caressing my chest, or at least I figured it must have been her but without being able to see or hear I couldn’t tell for sure. It felt wonderful and every shred of attention I had was focused on the movement of her fingers on my skin. It felt almost electric. Mistress began to caress the tip of my nipple and my body tensed in sexual excitement as she caressed now both nipples. As she continued to tease, my penis grew hard and the experience became sexually frustrating. I was breathing hard while enjoying the attention yet feeling frustrated.
Then suddenly I was no longer able to breathe! There was no air in the helmet and I quickly became terrified that I would die. My nipples were still being teased which made it a bit tougher to focus but I managed to calm down and simply hold my breath. I swim at the local public pool from time to time so I am accustomed to holding my breath but not under such terrifying circumstances.
I could not hold my breath any longer but there was still no air and I felt that I would die. I had achieved my dream of meeting my one true love and now it was time for me to die.
Air rushed into my lungs and I gasped to catch up on the air I needed. I had no idea what had happened but I was thankful to be able to continue living.
As I gasped and breathed hard I felt a sudden sharp pain on one of my nipples as some sort of clamp was applied. It was one of the most painful sensations I had ever felt and I yelled into the darkness. Then a clamp was applied to my other nipple and my yell went up an octave. I had great difficulty getting enough air and was hopeful that I would pass out to get past the pain but somehow after a half minute or so I got used to the pain and it became just a constant throbbing instead of agony. I could not stop groaning but I was able to breathe somewhat normally.
Mistress must have then started to tap on the clamps because I felt repeated pains in my nipples. It wasn’t as painful as when the clamps were first applied but I couldn’t help but yell with each small movement of the clamps.
In the back of my mind I remembered that Mistress had told me she wanted to hear me scream and in a way I was glad that she was getting what she wanted. But the cost was too high. I felt that I could not take too much more torture. Also, I was sad that I could not hear her beautiful voice or see her beautiful face as she enjoyed herself.
The small movements of the clamps stopped and the pain in my nipples became bearable again. I was able to stop groaning but then felt a severe pain in my left foot as my arch had been struck hard by a thin stick of some sort. My body tried to jerk from the pain but it only pushed against the unmoving metal restraints. Then my right arch felt the same whack of the stick and I yelled loud into the helmet.
I still could not hear a single thing other than the sound of my own yelling and I wondered whether Mistress would dislike that I am a wimp for not being able to suffer without yelling.
My left foot felt the whack from the stick again in the same place. This felt like an eruption of excruciating pain and I lost control as I screamed into the helmet. It was the most painful thing I had ever experienced and it was far from over. She continued to whack my feet with the stick, alternating one foot at a time, and each blow was severe agony. I had no awareness or thoughts other than screaming from the agony. I lost count but I think after around a dozen strokes on each foot the torture stopped, although the screaming kept going for at least another half minute.
Once I regained awareness I focused on attempting to breathe and then another half minute later the clamps were painfully pulled from my nipples causing another round of uncontrolled screaming. When I regained awareness there was no torture but there was still plenty of pain, especially on the skin of the soles of my feet which felt damaged. After another minute I was able to catch up on my breathing and was thankful that the next torture had not begun yet.
Inside the sensory deprivation helmet I had no idea what Mistress was preparing but I felt certain that it would be painful and soon, although I didn’t know if it would be more painful than the lingering pain in my feet.
I was terrified. Terrified of the next torture, terrified that I might not be able to walk again, terrified that I would never be allowed to see and hear Mistress again. Terrified that I would spend the rest of my life in severe agony!
I panicked. I thrashed against the restraints, although I was not able to move much of anything, and I lost most of my awareness to the panic. It passed and Mistress had still not yet begun the next torture.
It turns out that Mistress must have left the room once she removed the nipple clamps. There would be no more torture or any sensation or movement for a long time. For what must have been several hours I simply lay without sight, without sound, and without any movement, suffering from the decreasing pain in my feet.
In my isolation I tried to think about pleasant times in childhood or just listening to Lana Puhl music but quickly ran out of times to remember. I tried to keep my mind busy with other thoughts but the boredom was getting to me. I cried and hoped to fall asleep but I remained awake, painfully awake for hours. It was probably worse torture than the stick on my feet.
Finally, I felt the helmet being lifted off my head although the blindfold remained in place. The metal restraints were lifted one at a time and Mistress spoke to me with her beautiful voice. It seemed like the voice of an angel. She said “Get off the chair and crawl on the floor” and she helped me by swinging my legs to one side of the reclining chair. As my feet made contact with the floor I felt shooting pains letting me know that walking was out of the question so I lowered myself off the chair onto my stiff hands and knees on the cold stone floor. Still blinded, I felt a collar latched around my neck and I was led forward by a leash.
The pull of the leash was strong and guided me to crawl out of the room and back to my cell. It was a slow and painful crawl, despite the strong pull on my neck, as the stone was very unforgiving on my bare knees and I was careful not to bump my head or shoulders on the doors I went through. I physically could have removed the blindfold but Mistress had not bid me to do so and I did not even consider it. Once I was back in my cell Mistress removed my collar, closed and locked the cell door, and left the room. I knelt in darkness for a minute or two and then removed the blindfold to see that Mistress had left the light on for me this time. I was truly grateful for this reprieve.
I used the toilet and drank from the sink but there was no food to allay my hunger so I just lay on the bed. I remembered back to the nightmare of boredom inside the sensory deprivation helmet and my gaze drifted in melancholy. I cried again and this time was able to fall asleep.
I woke up very hungry. I decided that in a prison cell there was a risk of too little activity, even for me, so I started an exercise program of push-ups, sit-ups, and jumping jacks as often as I could. This helped me with the hunger I was feeling.
I sat back on the bed and took stock of my situation. I had hoped that I could take the torture Mistress dished out at me but there were two major problems with the session: I could not obtain any enjoyment out of seeing or at least hearing the love of my life interacting with me, and the torture was just too much for me to take. I shudder even to think about it. Somehow my feet are fine but I wondered what would happen if Mistress just kept whacking away with her stick on my feet, or on worse places.
I adjusted my thinking a bit, Mistress would not want to injure her slave to require medical attention and she was probably just experiencing enjoyment from eliciting screams of agony, not from causing damage. This didn’t help me cope with my looming depression, though, as agony is not much more tolerable than injury. Or was it?
No, I simply could not suffer many more sessions of that level of agony. Therein lay my difficulty, though, I did not have a choice. Mistress could cover up my eyes and ears and torture me as often and as painfully as she wanted and there was nothing I could do about it. She could starve me into begging for food, puncture me with stiletto heels, or even rip off my nipples and I would not have any recourse. I guess I didn’t mind not having recourse as long as my Goddess holds the controls but there were no extremes which were off limits, and that troubled me greatly.
More than troubling me, it depressed me. I spent the next few hours crying off and on while clutching at my stomach due to the hunger. Despite the apparent frequency with which I would apparently be with the wonderful woman of my dreams, I wanted to go home. But I couldn’t. And I hadn’t even told anyone where I was going for fear that they would belittle me. I kept on crying.
A couple of hours later a man I did not recognize entered the room and slid a plastic plate and food between the bars. There were two slices of wheat bread with peanut butter, an apple, some raw spinach, and a small chicken sandwich on wheat bread with lettuce. When the man left he turned the light off and I was submerged in total darkness. I devoured all of the food and then took a nap.
Maybe a couple of hours later I was awake and quite bored and depressed when the door opened and the light turned on. Mistress entered the room behind two large men I hadn’t seen before. As my eyes tried to adjust to the light, one of the men unlocked the door to my prison and both men grabbed me by the arms lifting and carrying me out of the cell. I was not struggling and wondered why I was being manhandled but I did not dare to question. Mistress put a blindfold on me and I felt a momentary burst of pleasure at feeling her soft hands but then while I was held by the men Mistress slapped my face hard, and then again, and over and over with both hands back and forth. I tried to put my hands up to ward my face from the blows but the men were holding my arms. After probably a dozen slaps from each hand Mistress stopped but then slapped me some more at odd intervals so that with the blindfold I could not determine when or which side the next blow would land. I began to cry and I heard one of the men trying to suppress a laugh.
I was then carried into the other room and lowered into the same reclining chair as yesterday, with the same metal restraints holding me down. The same sensory deprivation helmet was lowered over my head and face and I was in total darkness and silence, and terror. The only sound I heard was my own whimpering in fear. I braced for a whack on my feet but instead I felt my penis being gently pulled by its head away from my body. On the shaft of my penis I felt a solid whack of pain from a stick of some sort.
Other than doctors when I was a baby, no-one had ever touched me there before. I felt self-conscious at first and then I started to freak out when I was struck. I yelled even though the pain was not agony and I tried to jerk or pull away but I couldn’t move. The head of my penis was still being held and I felt another sharp whack on the shaft and another and another. The pain of the same spot being struck several times became agony and I screamed uncontrollably at the top of my lungs, even after my penis was released. As I stopped screaming I felt a contraption being attached to my groin and after several seconds felt my balls being slowly compressed in some sort of vice.
The vice was very slowly crushing my balls and even before the pain became intense I completely freaked out screaming and thrashing against the unmoving restraints, unable to take it anymore. The pain in my balls increased and the only other awareness I had was that I thought my head would explode from the pain in my balls and from my own screaming.
I thankfully passed out and when I awoke I felt the contraption being removed from my groin. There were no sensations for a minute or so after that other than the lingering pain on my penis and balls and the sound of my own attempts to catch up on breathing. Then suddenly there was no air to breathe.
I did not panic this time. I quickly decided that I wanted to die. I dreaded the pain I would feel at dying from suffocation but I welcomed the chance to end this life of suffering. I thought back on my life and realized that it was not a good life. I had never truly loved and never truly lived. I would die a lonely, depressed, unloved, and pathetic man. I didn’t even cry at my own loss.
Then the flow of air returned to the helmet and I gasped to catch up on breathing.
Next, I was tortured in earnest. There were too many simultaneous tortures for me to remember it all but I recall feeling clamps on my nipples, numerous painful whacks of a stinging paddle on my thighs, some sort of agonizing clamps on the head of my penis and on my scrotum, and the repeated whack of some sort of stick or crop on different parts of my upper body. There may have been more but I was uncontrollably screaming too much to keep track.
Much later, after I had been returned to my pitch dark cell, the pain was receding enough for me to mostly fully regain my senses, although I still felt the sting of lingering pain on my skin on a few areas of my body. I decided that I had reached the end of my rope and I simply could not take any more of that torture. I was not even seeing or hearing Mistress to help make it worthwhile and the pain was way beyond what I think most anyone could take.
It was still dark in my cell and I was very hungry again. I fumbled towards the sink to take a few drinks of water and then I used the toilet. I lay back down on the bed and considered my options.
There were no options that I could see. In figuring out that I could simply not take any more agony I hadn’t thought about details of ending my life but in the cold light of day, or the cold darkness of the cell, I began to realize that there was no way for me to kill myself. I guess I could have banged my head against the bars of the cell but I would probably just knock myself unconscious instead of dead. I thought about jumping in the air and landing my head on the sink but it had padded edges and unless I landed right on the solid faucet, I would probably not accomplish anything, and even landing on the faucet I didn’t think any spot on my head would be hard enough to kill me. I considered tying my bed sheet around my neck but when the lights were on I did not see anything to hang myself from above the cell and just tying the other end of the sheet to the cell and pulling the tied sheet with my neck would not accomplish anything.
I was trapped. I lowered myself off the bed and onto the stone floor, despondent and sobbing into the ground. Part of my consciousness was aware of how pitiful I was acting, crying and drooling uncontrollably on the floor in depression. That same part of my consciousness was aware of Mistress opening the door to my cell and cuffing my hands behind my back.
I was next aware of sitting up on the floor with my back to the bed and looking at the most beautiful sight in the universe. Mistress was sitting in front of me, looking at me with concern and using the towel from the sink to wipe off my face of drool and tears. She noticed my gaze and said “Ted, can you hear me?”
I was not particularly coherent but managed to say “Yes, Mistress, my Love, my Goddess.”
She smiled and said “You are such a charmer. In another life maybe…. Let’s get you up onto the bed.” With her help I managed to sit up on the bed and I was in heaven at her touch. She sat next to me on the bed and asked “You didn’t look so good on the floor. How are you feeling?”
I answered, as always, with the truth “I feel wonderful, Mistress, I am in heaven.”
She gave me a sort of disbelieving look and said “Now Ted, you know that I require the truth from you at all times.”
I was still regaining my senses and realized that she deserved a better answer than I had given. I said “I am sorry, Mistress, I feel wonderful now in your presence but I was not doing well earlier.” I did not want to complain so I held back on continuing my answer but she said “Go on, tell me everything about how you have been feeling the past few days. I want to know everything.”
I looked into her beautiful eyes and tears began to stream down my face. I said “The torture has been beyond anything I have ever felt before.”
Mistress smiled and I think she was happy with my reaction. Then she had another thought and said “Have you been tortured before? Are you a kinky guy, Ted?”
I did not know what she meant by kinky. Is she trying to say that there are some people in the world who enjoy being tortured like this? I answered “No, Mistress, I have never been tortured before unless it’s the torture of loving you from afar for years.”
Mistress touched my face and said “Ted, even after what you have been through you are still able to feel love for me?”
I tilted my head to press my cheek against her hand and said “Yes, Mistress” as I began to sob. I didn’t know whether I was sobbing from the trauma I had experienced or from the love I felt.
She moved closer to me and hugged me, allowing me to rest my head on her shoulder as I cried. Despite the emotional turmoil I was feeling, I wanted to just stay in her arms for the rest of my life.
When I stopped crying Mistress brought out a meal which she fed me by hand again, just as she had before. It did not take me long to have an erection, somehow emotionally setting aside all of the torture which had been inflicted to me in that area. To my surprise, Mistress gently caressed the head of my penis and asked “How does it feel?”
How does it feel? How does it feel?! Oh my gosh it felt amazingly wonderful. She was touching me! Inside I was jumping and dancing for joy. I tried to find the words but all I could say is “Mistress, it feels wonderful!”
She had been trying to find out only how the pain had receded but the look on my face, my body language, and the adoration in my voice told her what she wanted to know. She set the food down and had me lie down on my back on the bed, a bit leaning towards the side facing her due to my hands being cuffed behind my back.
And then she gave me a hand job. Wow! My first ever sexual encounter with someone and it was with the woman of my dreams.
Mistress wiped me off and seeing how tired I was, although I was mostly in a haze of pleasure rather than fatigue, she put the cover over me to tuck me in, even while my hands were cuffed behind my back, and she whispered to me to go to sleep. I fell asleep even before she left the cell.
I had not realized how exhausted I was as the roller coaster of pain and emotions took their toll and I felt like I slept a long time. Fortunately, the light was on and she had left my food on a plastic plate on the floor as I was starving. Without the use of my hands I got down on the floor and ate the pieces of food like a dog but I didn’t mind. Mistress had touched me. And it was good to be able to eat again. I even managed to drink water from the faucet, albeit awkwardly. What could be better than this?
Was this even happening? It seemed too unreal, to be tortured and taken care of tenderly, to be given agony and ecstasy by one person. Just a month ago I would not even begin to believe that I would meet Lana Puhl but here I was, the object of her affection, albeit not always the ideal type of affection.
I lay back down on the bed and cried myself to sleep.
When I woke up I was drained of emotion and hungry again. I guess one way to lose weight is to be put on a strict diet by a strict Mistress. After the extremes of emotion lately I was at ease and was able to avoid being frustrated despite boredom for an hour or two until Mistress returned. I had resigned myself to the fact that her visit this time probably meant intense torture again but I was still very glad to see her and a thrill went through my heart.
Mistress unlocked and entered the call and sat next to me again, while my hands were still cuffed behind my back. Despite the hand job I had received just hours ago, or perhaps because of it, I was erect again. And Mistress was smiling at me. At that moment I felt that I would go through any torture for her.
I noticed that she didn’t bring any food but I didn’t mind.
She said “Ted, you are a wonder. Do you think you could be happy staying here?”
Mistress was close to me and I wanted to feel her touch again. Not only could I be happy but I was happy. I replied “Yes, Mistress, I am very happy.”
She said “You are aware that you will be staying her for the rest of your life, right? I wasn’t joking a few days ago.”
I was completely melting in her eyes. I felt very submissive, as if I had no substance and was only putty for her to shape as she sees fit. I looked into Mistress’ eyes and said “I cherish serving you, Mistress, for the rest of my life.”
Her face relaxed even more and she smiled again. It seemed to me that every time she looked at me she smiled and that fact filled my heart with joy. Then she leaned towards me and we kissed each other briefly on the mouth before she leaned back. I became even more mesmerized. She said “Promise me that you will remember this kiss” and I replied “I promise, Mistress.” Remember the kiss is another of Lana Puhl’s songs.
I was still in a haze of heaven when I lie on my stomach on the floor at her direction while she rested the heel of her shoe on the side of my head. She reached down and unlocked my cuffs and then left and locked the cell as I remained on the floor. I wanted to just melt into the floor in my haze of happiness but then I realized that I was starving and I should have mentioned that to her.
Fortunately, several minutes later a man brought a large tray of food and slipped it between the bars. It included a few protein bars for me to eat later. When the man left, he turned off the lights and I was alone in the pitch dark again. But I did not mind. I remembered the kiss.
Many hours later the lights came on and two large men entered my prison to take me by the arms as I tried to adjust my eyes to the light. Just as they had a couple of days ago, they held me as Mistress slapped my face hard over and over, this time without a blindfold. I tried to just keep my facial muscles loose and withstand the pain. Next she slapped my limp penis with her hand several times and, even though she was avoiding hitting my balls, I tried to double over in pain but was held firm by the two large men.
I was freaked out by this act of violence against my most private parts and screamed. Probably just this same day Mistress had touched me there for the most pleasurable experience in my life and now with force applied it was a very painful experience. To my surprise, though, despite the pain and humiliation I felt, I became erect.
Mistress then brought out a small crop and whacked my penis over and over as I screamed at the top of my lungs, with only a few pauses between repeated whacks. This was the most shocking treatment I experienced so far, it seemed like she was just destroying my manhood as I watched helplessly.
After a few minutes this torture stopped and I was already physically spent but the session was just beginning. Mistress put a blindfold on me and I was taken into the torture room where her real fun began.
Just like the last session, I was put into the sensory deprivation helmet and afterwards quickly forgot the details as the tortures were piled on top of each other and it seems like I was not given a moment’s rest, or if I was then I was still in agony at rest periods. I do remember that they managed to keep me from passing out even though they could not see my face to watch my reactions but I guess the pitch and strength of my screams helped them know when to adjust. I also remember most every section of the front of my body feeling excruciating pain at some point before they turned me over and tortured every part of the back of my body. My screams turned into hoarse shouts as my vocal cords lost their strength.
In a daze I was returned to my prison cell where I passed out and when I awoke it was pitch black. I felt marks on different places of my skin but after feeling around my body there were no apparent injury or bruises. I hobbled on painful feet towards the sink when I stumbled upon a tray of food. Several hours later the lights went on and I was tortured again.
For the next few days this general pattern repeated in which I would briefly see Mistress and two men as my eyes adjusted to the light before I was blindfolded and taken into the torture room for different types of bondage and torture, always in the sight and sound deprivation helmet. Sometimes I would pass out during torture, to be revived by one method or another, and then once the long session was over I would be returned to my cell. I often passed out with the blindfold still on or sometimes I managed to take it off before I lost consciousness. The lights were always turned off by my captors when they left so for possibly a week I did not have any light whatsoever other than during a few moments of transition.
My existence for this time was beyond horrifying. I had plenty of time to become bored but I had no ability to form coherent enough thoughts to be bored. My thoughts and feelings were basic: just food, water, toilet, sleep, and agony either direct or lingering. I did not miss experiencing Mistress’ touch or take any comfort that my agony was pleasing her, I simply existed. Had I considered such an existence I would have thought that there was no way to live through several consecutive days of such torture but somehow I did survive.
I was then given some time off. As I lie in the pitch dark expecting at any moment for the light to turn on and for Mistress and her two men grab me and take me for torture, it didn’t happen. My skin was still feeling pain from the last session or two and I did not know at first whether they were late or it was just my warped perception but after another few hours it became clear that there was at least a significant delay.
I began to become terrified. It was irrational because the worst thing to happen to me was torture and its absence should have been a welcome relief but my mind was not working rationally and I became terrified of the next time the torture would begin. I was literally shaking in fear for hours.
Suddenly, the door opened and the light came on. I whimpered but then noticed that only one man was entering the room and he was carrying a tray of food. Nevertheless, I cowered on my bed in fear as the tray of food was left for me and the man left the room. To my dismay he turned off the light when he left.
After I ate I still felt terror but it was manageable, the standard terror of knowing that at any moment I could be taken to another session of torture.
I was not tortured for another day or two, with a few repeats of the food-bringer leaving a tray of food for me in the dark. I began to look forward to his visits not only for the food, but because the one minute of light made me feel a small bit of my former humanity. Other than those few brief minutes, I felt like I would go crazy.
Being subjected to extreme physical torture is as horrible of a thing as I can imagine. Yet, having to sit in the dark for days with literally nothing to do most of the time seemed worse at that moment. Now that I had regained most of my senses and was not in a huge amount of lingering pain, boredom began to take its toll on me despite my best efforts at staying busy with exercise and thinking back to my life before it ended with my capture.
I tried fantasizing about different rescue attempts but I knew that these were not realistic hopes and they frustrated me. Even though the rescue fantasies helped fight boredom, I tried to fight them off due to the frustration. But I was unsuccessful. In my mind I kept being rescued by my parents, the police, my former high school friends, a rival singer to Lana Puhl, Mistress Puhl herself, and even my childhood cat. My cat came back from the dead and clawed a big hole through the floor but I had difficulty finding the hole as I felt along the entire floor of the cell. She must have created the hole in the room just outside of the cell so I said “Lucy, over here, over here Lucy!” but even though I must have talked to her for an hour Lucy did not respond.
Lucy did not respond but the lights came on and one of the two men with Mistress Puhl said “What the fuck?!”
At Mistress’ direction I was taken by the two men into the torture room as usual except this time I was not blindfolded and was able to see the different torture apparatuses I had been restrained to over the past couple of weeks. This time I was restrained face up on a padded table spread eagled and it felt familiar, despite this first time of actually seeing it.
The light was wonderful. At first I was not able to see anything due to the brightness but even then it was a marvelous thing to experience light again. Once my eyes became a bit accustomed to the light I fixed them on the most beautiful sight in the universe, my Goddess. My eyes never left Mistress’ face and even when she was not in view all I could see was her beautiful face and figure.
My body and mind relaxed and I felt happy again.
Once I was restrained spread eagled on the table Mistress stood over me and said “Ted, are you smiling?”
I tried to say something but at first I could only croak until I cleared my throat a few times. I replied “Yes Mistress, thank you for letting me see you.”
One of the men laughed and Mistress said to the men “Let’s keep the helmet off him. I’d like to see his facial reactions this time.”
I was tortured again, just as horribly as in previous sessions. This session began with clamps on my nipples which were very bearable with Mistress smiling down on me and some sort of moderate persistent electric shocks repeatedly applied to the soles of my feet which were very painful but okay due to Mistress coming back towards my head and smiling down on me. I noticed that the men had left the room or at least the area of the table and it made me glad that only Mistress was torturing me.
She then began hitting my groin with a thin stick and kept at it for a long time. For the first time in a probably a week or two I became erect, despite the pain, and this made Mistress smile and hit even harder. I was in a lot of pain from the three tortures at once but I was also sexually aroused.
Mistress then grabbed my erection and started giving me a hand job while using the other hand to whack my balls with the stick. It felt like she was trying to rupture my balls but her hand on my penis felt so good that the pain no longer mattered anymore. I didn’t feel that I could take any more pain and I began screaming when I came and screamed at the top of my lungs.
She stopped hitting me with the stick and my body went limp as I closed my eyes in a haze of joy. The pain in my feet and nipples were unsuccessful in trying to break my euphoria as Mistress wiped off my stomach. Mistress said “Time for more torture.” She wasn’t expecting my smiling response of “Thank you Mistress.”
For the next hour I was subjected to torture after excruciating torture, always at least two at a time and all administered by the Goddess I loved. The pain was just as intense as all of the sessions when I was in the sensory deprivation helmet but somehow it was all worthwhile because I could see Mistress’ labor of love and hear her laughter of joy at my agony. It did not seem bearable as I screamed my vocal cords raw again but sometimes as she prepared the next torment and I was feeling persistent pain in only two areas of my body I was able to appreciate the elation of my situation. And when it was over and my limp exhausted body was returned to the cell and then plunged into darkness, I was able to revel in the bliss of having received the attention of Goddess.
I know how unusual this seems but seeing Mistress Puhl enjoy herself at my expense made all the difference in the world compared to experiencing the agony of torture while blind and deaf. I don’t claim that love cures all ills but for me it apparently did.
The light was kept on until the next day when Mistress tortured me again, or I guess it was the next day because I really had no idea. To my delight I was able to see and hear her again and while she did not give me any physical pleasure, it was still my pleasure to be the object of her full attention for an hour. I was tortured yet again the next day.
I hadn’t thought about it during the week when I was tortured without being able to see or hear but Mistress is extremely creative in the variety of tortures she applies to me and my screams seem somewhat different for each type.
Stingy whips and light paddles make me yelp in a somewhat high-pitched tone. A big thud like a thick strap smacked repeatedly between my shoulder blades makes me give a sort of short exclamation of pain almost like a cough as my mouth is wide open. Quick and powerful zaps of electricity also make me yelp unless applied to my penis or balls in which case I almost always give a high-pitched scream at the top of my lungs. Longer applications of electricity make me give a sort of open-mouthed humming and broken yell as if I was in a moving bus which is jostling around with each bump in the road. Scratches and scrapes make me give an almost silent scream as I anticipate being maimed even though I am never permanently harmed.
I admire Mistress’ ability to make music with my screams!
Sometimes when Mistress is laughing with enjoyment and if the pain is not too excruciating at the moment, her laugh will become contagious and we will laugh together until the next blow, zap, or clamp when I scream again.
Since the torture had become more bearable, albeit no less painful, and with light now in my cell as I rested, I had time between sessions to think about my situation. I did not ask myself whether I was happy with my situation or if I would like any changes. I had accepted my slavery because I was tortured into acceptance and I had no choice in any case. Instead of questioning my situation, I simply marveled at it. I was thankful that it was the woman I worship with all of my heart giving me her attention.
On the fourth session of torture without being blind and deaf, Mistress was her usual adept wizard with all of her different implements and while she was using a particularly evil device design to slowly crush my balls while at the same time electrodes were giving a constant flow of painful electricity to the pads of my big toes, I became erect. I had scant awareness of my situation after almost an hour of agony but my attention became focused when Mistress’ fingers touched the already battered head of my penis. The sharp intake of my breath elicited Mistress to ask in her beautifully feminine voice “You like torture, don’t you Ted?”
I did not quite understand the question but only wanted the gentle touching to continue so I responded “Yes Mistress, please Mistress.” I could not open my eyes due to the pain but hearing her voice and feeling her gentle caress in my most sensitive area put me in a state of bliss and my erection rose further in her hand.
Mistress slowly turned the ball crushing crank in one hand while stroking my penis with increasing intensity in her other hand until I screamed again in pain and ecstasy as I came. Completely spent, I heard Mistress laughing and I passed out.
For the next several weeks Mistress settled into somewhat of a pattern of torturing me frequently and masturbating me at the end of a torture session from time to time, and leaving the light on in my cell at all times. The sensory deprivation helmet was no longer used on me and despite the amazing amount of agony I was in a haze of joy almost all of the time, even when I could not get out of bed at times due to the pain. After each half dozen sessions or so I would be given a break when I could somewhat recover and reflect on my situation. I was happy and at times my tears were not due to pain but to joy. I did not question my happiness and only hoped that Mistress would continue to treat me the way she did.
Unfortunately, it could not last forever. One day after I had been incarcerated for probably a couple of months, when it seemed time for another session of torture, instead Mistress simply unlocked and entered my cell to sit on the bed next to me. This was the first time I had been alone with Mistress when my hands were not cuffed behind my back and I felt warm and tingly that she trusted me with so much freedom. I wanted more than anything to give her a loving bear hug or to fall at her feet and thank her for having me here but I did not want her to feel threatened so I sat meekly next to her.
Mistress said “Ted, it’s time for you to go home.” To my astonished and pained expression she said “You aren’t happy to be free?”
I said “No Mistress, I am very happy here” and I was ready to babble on but she stopped me with a gesture of her hand and said “I know, Ted, I am just joking with you. I know that you are happy here even though I can’t understand it. But your body and mind just can’t keep going like this and you need some time off. Would you like to come back in 6 months?”
I smiled at her confidence in knowing that I love being with her, even if it meant a life of torture. I said “Yes, Mistress, that would be great. Thank you.”
Mistress said “One of my staff will contact you and make all of the arrangements, just like this time, and you can count on being here for another 6 months.”
I blinked and said “6 months Mistress? Have I been here that long?”
She replied “Oh yes, you have no way of telling time do you? 6 months here and 6 months home. And in case you have trouble finding a new apartment or getting your job back, my staff will give you a phone number to call and they will send you whatever money you need. Also, once you get a new phone number call us so that we will know how to contact you in 6 months. Does that all seem reasonable?”
I said “Yes Mistress, very reasonable, thank you.”
Mistress and I stood up and then the best moment in my life occurred. She reached her arms around me and we hugged each other hard, my naked body feeling the soft clothes she wears. With my head on her shoulder I cried in joy and whispered “I love you forever, Mistress” and she replied “I know and I am glad.”
When I returned home I found that my parents had kept all of my belongings from my apartment. I won’t go into the issues of getting my life back together or calling Mistress’ staff for more money because that half of my life is unimportant. I live that half of life in a sort of daze of drudgery and count the days until the joyful half of my life resumes.
During my 6 months each year in the prison of Goddess’ love, I have no thought of the outside world and simply revel in the experience, even as excruciatingly painful and de-humanizing as it is. And it never fails that in the weeks it takes for my body to recuperate, I think back very fondly to the experience and almost can’t wait the months before the next time.
During the months when I am not in the care of Mistress, I watch her music videos and interview repeats and listen to her music every day and night. The frequency with which she creates music is much less now as the years have gone by but every 6-10 years she still puts out another amazing album and I listen carefully to each song for any hint that she is referring to me. In one of her music videos from her last album 8 years ago I saw an actor in the background dancing as if in a lot of pain and I am sure that this was a reference to me.
But now as I am about to be picked up from my apartment in a couple of days for another 6 months of love, I am anticipating an unusual experience. Mistress’ staff has indicated to me that I will be involved in the production of her newest album. I can only imagine what role I might have! Once the album is released, listen carefully and I will do my best to add a reference from this journal. Perhaps a high-pitched scream in the background?
Word Count = 14,650
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