The Experiment

I. Drip. Drip Drip.

Frank saw the water drip into the giant water bottle attached to his privates by means of a pulley, he wondered how this all could come to pass. Though it had only been a week, it seemed like years since he had responded to the advertisement in the local newspaper.

“People wanted to take part in Internet Project. You will be working on breakthrough technology for this leading website…”

Frank had been desperate to get some work on the Internet. Since the implosion of the Internet in ’01, technical jobs had been few and far between, and Frank had to go back to the work he had done in college, moving pianos. It was hard work, and it helped him get into the kind of physical condition that just can’t be had when riding a desk. When this ad appeared in The Columbus Dispatch he leapt at the chance. Immediately he got his resume together and sent it to the address in the ad. Strangely, the ad called for a recent photo. This didn’t bother Frank much as he was at least somewhat handsome, and he was after all, “Doc-tor Lovvvve”(at least that was what Frank told himself while shaving every morning, usually in his best Isaac Hayes voice) In any event, Frank stapled a picture of himself aping the statue “The Thinker” to his resume and stuffed it in the envelope.

A few weeks had gone by, and Frank had forgotten all about the ad, thinking yet again that his resume had found its way to the circular file, when the phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Hello, is this Frank?”

“Yes, who’s this?”

“Hi Frank, this is Amanda. We were going over your file and we found that your experience would be an excellent match for our purposes. Do you think you could come down for an in-person interview?”

Could I! “Yes, I think I could fit it into my schedule.”

“Good, great! Can you come down the Thursday at 11?”

“Hmm, let me check my planner” Frank ruffled some pages in the newspaper, then tapped on the table a couple of times to make it sound like a computer. “Yes, I think I can squeeze that in.”

“Great, see you then. Bye.”

“Bye.”<click>

“WAHOO!!” Frank jumped for joy at the prospect of having an in-person interview. It had been six months since he had had a face to face interview, and he knew, just knew that if he turned on the charm just a little bit, this job would be his, because no woman could long stand the charms of “Doc-tor Lovvve.”

Wednesday seemed to fly by, and before Frank knew it, it was Thursday morning. He got up, took his morning shower and Frank started his morning shave/pose-off:

“Looking good, Frank!”

“No one can turn you down Frank, because you are ‘Doc-tor Lovvve.’”

“Am I a stud machine, or what?”

Frank put on his best suit, and got into his Chevette to go to the interview. The entire way, at every stoplight, he would check himself in the rear-view mirror and say little things in order to prop up his ego. “Damn! You’re good,” and “Hooooowee! Make way for the Love Machine!” were among the milder things he said on his little trip. In short order he arrived at the address given to him over the phone by Amanda.

The address was a non-descript building in an industrial park, and the door was a plain metal door, the sort normally associated with warehouses and fire exits. The door was locked, and Frank rang the buzzer.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Amanda? This is Frank”

“Frank? Great! Just one minute, I’ll be right down and get the door.”

Frank waited there, and before long, the door opened. At the door was one of the most awesome visions of female pulchritude that had ever visited upon Frank’s eyes. To say she was a knockout was far too pedestrian for the sight that had befallen on Frank. Frank reached out to shake her hand, and she reached out to shake his, and grasped his forearm with her other hand, with a touch of firmness. See? Who can resist Doc-tor Lovvve? Frank thought, though at this point he knew it was too soon to do more than think(That was sometimes dangerous in itself!) After getting settled down in Amanda’s small, well-furnished office, they started the interview:

“So what caused you to pick me for this interview rather than someone else? Frank asked, hoping against hope that Amanda would say because you are a love stud! Take me, NOW!!

“Well, we looked at your qualifications, and we think you might be a good fit. Also, when we looked at your resume, it was pretty obvious that you weren’t one of those jerks who spend each morning looking in the mirror saying ‘Look at me, I’m Doc-tor Lovvve’ or some other more rude example of male ego”

Gulp. “Well, I try to keep humble.”

And so the interview continued, Amanda asking Frank about his work experience, family(Frank had none), relations(A cousin in Massachusetts, and an uncle in Alaska), etc. Amanda then concluded her part of the interview and told Frank that it was time to meet Cheyenne. Amanda brought Frank over to Cheyenne’s office and knocked on the door.

The door presently opened and Frank was greeted with yet another example of transcendent beauty. Cheyenne was awesome, and Frank made every effort to keep his eyes from popping out of his head, cartoon-like, at the image of beauty before him. Frank noticed, however, that Cheyenne was making no such attempts at concealment. Frank definitely felt like he was being measured, and passing with flying colors. In short order, the interview process started much as it had before.

“Amanda seems to think you are a good fit for our organization.”

“Well, hopefully I can help you out however possible.” Of course she thinks I’m a good fit. I’m Doc-tor Lovvve! Who can resist me?

“Yes, I’m certain you can. Amanda seemed especially impressed that you weren’t the sort of guy who would spend every waking moment preening a capacious ego.”

Gulp! “Well, my best friends say my middle name is Humility.”

“Good, so it looks like we have a match! Can you start in two weeks?”

“Let me see.” Frank checked his empty monthly planner, riffling through the pages which by this time were mostly filled with drawings of airplanes shooting other airplanes down, pictures of battleships shooting their guns at other battleships, drawings of explosions and M-1 tanks and other such adult stuff. “Yes, I think I can start in two weeks.”

“Great! Let me get the paperwork. Would you like some coffee?”

“Yes, I would, thank you very much.”

Cheyenne lifted up the telephone and dialed an extension. “Mercedes? This is Cheyenne. Frank decided to join us. Would you bring the paperwork and the special new-hire coffee?” She winked at Frank. “Thanks.” Shortly Mercedes walked in carrying some papers and two large cups of coffee in different mugs. If everyone in here is this good looking, thought Frank, I am going to be one happy, happy man. The red mug was placed over by Cheyenne, and the white mug by Frank. A sheaf of papers drenched in legalese was placed before Frank, and was his custom, he read the first page of each before signing.(Reading through the whole contract was just too much work for Frank, and besides, he was a lover, not a lawyer). As he was signing the contract he drank the coffee. It was very good coffee, pure Hawaiian Kona bean, very rare and expensive and quite good. In short order he finished the coffee. Cheyenne and Mercedes looked intently at Frank.

“How are your feeling?” Cheyenne asked.

“Fine, I—“ Frank started to feel light headed, then woozy, then shortly the walls started to shift, and he was unable to form a coherent thought. As he was about to stand up, to try to get his bearings, everything went black.

II.

“Paging Doctor Love. Paging Doctor Love, Doctor Love you have a telephone call,” Frank heard in a mockingly nasal tone as his head started to clear.

“Mmmf mmfurgle” was all Frank was able to say through whatever it was that was holding his mouth open. Frank started to look around the room and it was like no room he had ever seen. All around the room were whips, paddles, cat o’ nines and other implements whose function he could only guess at. Worst of all, the women whom he had seen earlier wearing business suits and warm smiles were now wearing leather and cruel smirks, and they were joined by more than a few others. Frank struggled to get up, but the efforts were for nought due to the bonds that held his arms, legs, and torso tightly to the table.

Cheyenne strode over and gripped Frank’s chin roughly and peered into his eyes. “I bet you wonder why you’re here.”
“MFBLFB!”

“Quiet while I’m talking!” Cheyenne barked while roughly slapping his face twice,.

“mfbl.”

“Like I was saying, I bet you wonder why you’re here. Well, you see, the ad you responded to was for a BDSM website. While it is true you will be working with high technology, it will not be with the sort of technology you were expecting. Instead of working with computer technology, you will be subject to bondage technology.”

“You see,” Amanda continued for Cheyenne, “a lot of things we are going to try with you haven’t been tried on any of our regular slaves. While it would be a lot of fun to try these out on our regular slaves, it took us a lot of time and effort to make certain that those slaves were trained that they would respond properly to our beck and call. Sure we could use our regular slaves as the guinea pig, but why waste a well trained slave, when we can just as easily use some untrained male pig like yourself? We lost a number of well-trained slaves to experiments that went awry, when Ivy came up with the idea of the want ad.

Ivy took over. “Any time we have some new idea to test, we place an ad in the Sunday paper. We ask for a picture with the ad, and pick the males with the most piggishness. Once we’ve picked five or ten lucky souls, we bug their house, their car, etc. to determine if they will be a fit. Erica had a marvelous time watching you.”

“Yes Frank, I have to say it was very amusing. I don’t think you missed a chance ever at any red light to stop, point at a yourself in the mirror, wink, nod, and say ‘You lucky dog!’ I guess today we’ll find out how lucky you really are. We couldn’t find anyone with anywhere near the level of piggishness that you have shown.

“I hate to cut this conversation short,” Cheyenne said, “but we really must get started on our experiments.”

“What should we start with first?”

“How about the fondue set?”

“Mrfl?!?”

“Good idea! I’ll set it up,” Mercedes said.

Mercedes left and came back with what looked like a large fondue set. There were a number of differences though. Instead of the standard one quart pot, it had a 1 gallon pot, and instead of being surrounded by little forks, the set was surrounded by a half dozen long ladles, like the kind they use for maple syrup at a catered breakfast. Erica flipped the lid off of the sterno can and lit it. Frank watched Amanda take a knife and start cutting up large pieces of something and dropping them into the pot, stirring each time another piece was dropped in. “You see, Frank,” Amanda chortled, “with the holidays over, I thought, ‘Gee, we let Christmas and New Years go by and we didn’t have a single fondue party. Then I thought, ‘Hey why do we need to do fondue only on the holidays. Any time is good for fondue!’” With that, Amanda dipped the ladle into the pot. “Except in this case, instead of dipping bread into cheese, we’re dripping wax on slaves!” Suddenly, Amanda turned the ladle over onto Frank’s chest. The sensation was like nothing Frank had ever experienced in his life. He screamed into the gag and pulled at his bonds, to no avail. “You know,” Amanda said, examining the pattern on Frank’s chest, “this needs a little bit of color.” Immediately she pulled a couple of fluorescent-green crayons and dropped them into the pot. Again she reached into the pot with the ladle and poured some on his chest, searing his skin and causing him to scream yet again—and leaving a lime green puddle on his chest which slowly coagulated. “Perfect. Come on everyone, the fondue’s ready.”

Cheyenne, Ivy, Erica and Mercedes joined Amanda and surrounded the bound and helpless Frank. Frank looked on in fear and amazement as each woman grabbed a ladle and started calling dibs on his anatomy:

“I’ve got dibs on his penis!”

“I’ve got dibs on a nipple!”

“I’ve got the other nipple!” and so on until every sensitive part of his anatomy was claimed. Erica said,(with at least a touch of glee) “You know, I think this might work best if we all go at once. On four, ok?” The mistresses then dipped in with their ladles into the fondue pot. “Ready?”

“One to make ready.”

“Two to show.”

“Three to get steady.”

“And four to—“

“AAAHHH!!!”

Frank felt burning fire everywhere on his body all at once. His cock, his balls, his nipples, all felt the burning liquid splash on them. The waves of pain moved from Frank’s nipples to his genitals to his penis and back. He writhed so hard that the heavy oaken table he to which he was bound started to creak and move with his writhing. His screams seemed to bounce off the walls they were so loud. The pain was incredible and unending. When one mistress would stop get more wax from the pot, two others would be ready with more wax. In what seemed an eternity, his body was covered with a lime-green coating.

“Wait, let’s take a break.” Mercedes said. “We need to get rid of some this wax. Besides, I’m certain Frank here has never experienced a waxing like they do at the beauty salons.”

“Mrfl! Mrfl, rmf mrfl!”

“What was that Frank?”

“RMF FRML MRFLMRF!”

“I think he’s saying that he’d love to experience it.”

“RMFL! RMFL! RMFL!” Frank was terrified. Frank was Italian, and as a result, Frank had a lot of body hair. Especially—gulp!—down there.

Amanda left the room briefly and returned with a spatula of the sort that short order cooks use, made of very thin, whippy metal, and started scraping. “MMMF!! MMMF!! MMMF!!” Frank’s screams echoed in the room as he felt what was surely his skin being ripped off with each scrape. “Well Frank, that wasn’t too bad now was it? Well, maybe it was, but as they say, this will hurt you more than it will hurt me. Ha! Get it? But you know what the best thing is? Now that we cleared the wax off, we have room for seconds!”

Seconds?!?

Immediately the mistresses started in again, dripping copious amounts of wax on his body. The pulling of the first coat of wax off of his body made his skin more sensitive and amazing as it was to Frank, this time it felt one hundred times worse than what he had experienced before. Screams filled the room, along with the sound of dull thuds as Frank’s writhing body would minutely pull up and slam down the legs of the bondage table.

“Hey look, we’re almost out of wax!”

“I’ve got an idea,” interjected Ivy. “Why don’t we use the wax for a plug for his pee-hole?”

“MMMRFL!!?!”

Cheyenne pulled a small ladleful of wax out of the pot, as Erica held Frank’s pee-hole open. Cheyenne accurately dribbled the wax into Frank’s pee hole. Frank’s screams again filled the room, then the darkness enveloped him.

III.

Frank awoke from his nightmare, only to realize that the nightmare had not ended. As consciousness slowly returned, sense by sense, he first heard the thump, thump-thump-thump of large inflatable ball being thrown against a wall. Then he felt that he had been moved. Instead of lying on a table, he felt himself sitting in a large wooden chair. His legs seemed be bound to the legs of the chair securely, but very far apart. He felt the cool air on his now sensitive genitals. He tried to move his arms, and found them tied straight out on each side. As the blur in his vision cleared, he first saw an “X” marked on the floor about 3 feet in front of him, then he saw the mistresses who had tormented him earlier. They were dressed in gym shorts and rugby shirts, and were practicing kicking a soccer ball back and forth.

“Cheyenne, I think our guinea pig is awake.”

“Hmm. Yes he is. Frank, have you ever played soccer?”

“frmlfrm.”

“Did you ever play goalie?”

“grglmrf”

“Well today you going to play goalie. Isn’t that great? Oh, and you’ll also be the goal too!”

Frank was confused. He had played soccer in junior high as a goalie in fact and he couldn’t understand how he could be a goalie in his current state. Then he looked down, and shuddered. On his body were painted a series of concentric circles, the center of which were—ON HIS BALLS! At that moment everything became perfectly clear. He wasn’t really a goalie. He was a target! Cheyenne rolled the ball over to the “X” on the floor. “Oh, and I forgot to tell you Frank. We’re only doing penalty kicks!” Cheyenne took a step back and to the left and let fly with a kick that would make Pele proud. The ball took off from the floor like a rocket and struck Frank in the face. The left side of Frank’s face felt like it had been slapped by a very large hand as the ball bounced off of his cheek. Cheyenne quickly got control of the ball and set it on the spot on the floor.

“I think you aimed a little high,” Amanda said.

“Nope, just wanted to make certain ol’ Frank here was awake. Are you awake Frank?”

“grlmf.”

“’Grlmf?’ Hmm. I don’t know if he’s awake yet.” Cheyenne let loose with another kick, this time striking Frank on the right side of his face.

“LRGLF! LRGLF!” Frank exclaimed, while nodding furiously.

“Ah, so we are awake!” Cheyenne said. “Erica, would you like to go first?”

“I’d love to Cheyenne, thank you for the honor.” To Frank everything seemed to move in slow motion as Erica let loose with a strong kick from her right foot. Frank watched the ball track from Erica’s foot and land just between his left thigh and his genitals. The ball bounced quickly right and smashed into his genitals.

“IIIEEEELLLF!!”

“Hmm, looks like Frank’s voice is starting to climb up an octave.” Mercedes chortled. “Don’t worry Frank. By the time we’re done with you’ll have no problem singing soprano. Erica, let me take a shot on goal.”

Mercedes took the ball and let fly. The ball went low, striking the bottom of Frank’s testicles. They rocked back, slamming them against himself, and started swinging like two little pendulums.

“EEEMF!”

Ivy took the ball next. “Frank, did you know I was an all-state forward in high school?” she said through a vicious smirk as she let fly. She had made a perfect trick shot hitting the wall below and between his legs, then the ball bounced back to her, and hit Frank’s balls and the tip of his penis from behind, making them fly up.

“LEEELPHA!”

“Amanda, do you want to take a practice shot?”

Practice shot?

“No, lets get started with the match.” At that, Amanda grabbed a bag of clothespins, and started placing them all around Frank’s genitals. In addition to the pain they themselves caused, they pulled the skin of the scrotum up and away from his testicles, leaving them viciously exposed. “Okay, here’s the rules. Each of us will go in turn. Each clothespin knocked off counts as one point.”

Mercedes went first in the contest. She kicked the ball, and Frank tracked it in with his eyes. It struck the left testicle. Frank’s screams filled the room as four clothespins hit the floor. “Pretty good, Mercedes. Let me take a shot,” Amanda said as she set the ball on the floor. Amanda struck the ball with her foot, and hit Frank right on the tip of his penis, driving the tip into his testicles, and knocking off three clothespins.

“LEEEMRRRRGLF!”

“Not bad, Amanda, Not bad at all,” Cheyenne said, as she set up the ball. The ball tracked low and to the right catching four clothespins and dropping them to the floor. Erica caught the ball and set it on the floor. Her kick sent the ball flying and hit Frank square in the genitals. Frank emitted as ear-splitting a scream as was humanly possible through a gag, but curiously, no clothespins fell.

“Hmm. No clothespins fell off. That means I go again, right?”

“Of course!”

“Absolutely”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way!”

Erica set the ball up again. And sent the orb flying on its way to Frank’s genitals again. Again the screams filled the room. And again, mysteriously, no clothespins fell.

“One more time?”

“One more time.”

Frank was deeply afraid. He didn’t know how much longer he could stand it. Erica seemed to be taking great pleasure in kicking the ball just so it would strike his balls as hard as possible, but perversely, not drop a single clothespin.

“Again?”

“Again.”

Again Erica kicked. Again Frank screamed. Again no clothespins fell.

“Again?”

“Sure, no prob!”

Erica at last seemed to tire of the game. On her last kick hit Frank at the base of his penis. Frank saw stars at the blow, and five clothespins fell to the floor.

“Good One!”

Next was Ivy. Ivy scared Frank most of all. He had had remembered the results. When he looked at Ivy, she had this strange look in her eye.

“Would it be all right if I moved the ball a little closer?” Ivy asked the other Mistresses.

“Are you trying another of your Double-Banked Ball Busters?” Cheyenne asked

“Yep.” Ivy replied.

“Then by all means, go ahead!”

Ivy kicked the ball at a high angle. It bounded into Frank’s balls, but before he could let out a scream, the ball bounced down towards the wall. It bounced back the way it came, hitting Frank’s testicles from behind, then bounced straight down and up again, hitting Frank’s nuts again from the bottom before rolling to a stop at Ivy’s feet. Frank screamed, and collapsed in his bonds as 10 clothespins hit the floor.

IV.

Frank felt the Mistresses release his bonds from the chair. He instantly thought this was his chance to flee, but his body and his mind couldn’t put up anything other than token resistance. The mistresses brought him over to the center of the room and fixed his arms into a pair of shackles that came down from the ceiling. They attached the cuffs on his ankles into rings in the floor, keeping his feet at a 90 degree angle. Four feet in front of him was a card table with the game Operation on it. Frank remembered the game fondly from his childhood days. The game was powered by a few large batteries, and the objective was to remove organs from a patient. If you removed the organ without touching the sides you won X dollars. If you touched the side, a buzzer would go off and the patient’s nose would light up. Frank immediately noticed that the patient did not have a light bulb in his nose, which Frank thought was rather odd.

“I bet you’re wondering what we’re up to now, “ Amanda chortled. “When I was a little girl, I loved playing the game Operation. The problem was that the buzzer just wasn’t a good enough substitute for the real thing. That’s when I came up with the idea of slave Operation. Don’t worry, you don’t need to know the rules. As far as you are concerned, there aren’t any.” Amanda then took a strap and attached it to his testicles. She then took what looked like a lightbulb and attached it with a clip to his nose. Finally, she took what looked like electrical wire. She connected one wire from the game to the strap on his testicles, and the other from the strap on his testicles to the lightbulb. Amanda then tested the setup.

“Okay Frank, tell me if you can feel this,” she said as she brushed the clip against the game.

“AAAAAHMF!”

“How about this?”

“AIIIIIIMRG!”

“And this?”

“EEERAUUGH!”

“Actually, Frank, I knew it worked on the first one. I just love the sound this thing causes you to make.”

Amanda called the other mistresses into the room, and they sat around the table. “Okay, the rules are just like the regular game,” Cheyenne said. “Ivy, you go first.” Ivy picked up the tweezers and reached in. “I’m going for the funny bone” she said as she eased here hand into the gameboard. She picked up the funny bone from its place on the gameboard and started to pull it out, when it brushed the side.

“MMEEEAAAUUGH!” Frank screamed.

“I’m sorry Frank,” Ivy said in a voice that conveyed no sorrow. “I’ll make certain that I never touch the side like this—“

“AAAIIEEEE!”

“—again. Not once will I ever touch—“

“EEEEF!!”

“—the side in this way—“

“AAAAGLE!!”

“again.”

“I have to say Amanda that the light bulb really makes for some sight!” Erica laughed. “With the scream and the bulb, it just makes it all the more fun.”

“I try, I do try,” Amanda said, graciously accepting the compliment paid by Erica. “I think it’s your turn.”

“I’m going for the wishbone,” Erica said as she accepted the tweezers from Ivy. Frank watched with rapt attention as Erica reached down for the wishbone. She pulled the wishbone up and it thankfully missed. “So what did I win? Erica asked.

“Ten” Amanda replied.

As Frank started to feel relief that he would avoid the electric shock when he heard Erica make this ominous statement:

“I better use the big cane then to make these ten count.”

Frank watched Erica pick up a rattan cane and walk behind him. In seconds he felt his ass explode in pain.

“Count with me Frank, or else I won’t know when to stop,” Erica instructfully told Frank.

“WHACK!!”

“fwonf”

“WHACK!!”

“ewemf”

“WHACK!!”

“eeemf”

“WHACK!!”

“forff”

“WHACK!!”

“fife”

“WHACK!!”

“sif”

“WHACK!!”

“sevemf”

“WHACK!!”

“afe”

“WHACK!!”

“neinf”

“WHACK!!”

“temf”

“And one more for good luck”

“WHACK!!”

And on it went each mistress in turn. Either Frank would feel the sting of the whip, crop, or cane, or the shock that would cause him to scream and his nose to light, making him look like Rudolph the Nut-tortured Reindeer. Finally there was only one piece left, and it was Cheyenne’s turn. “Well, looks like the only thing left is the brain. Too bad they put it in the wrong place here for Frank. It should be a little farther south shouldn’t it, Frank?”

“lrf,” Frank weakly replied.

Cheyenne reached in carefully and removed the brain. “I guess that means I win! What’s the prize for the brain Amanda?”

“Twenty-five. On his brain”

“On his brain?” Cheyenne asked, incredulously happy.

“On his brain.” Amanda replied, with a devilish smirk.

Frank was befuddled. On my brain? he thought. Unless they use a baseball bat, that wouldn’t hurt at all(Especially considering the quality of his brain). Then he remembered Cheyenne’s remark, It should be a little farther south, shouldn’t it? And then everything was abundantly clear.

His eyes grew to saucers when he saw Cheyenne approach him. She was carrying a large riding crop. “If you’re nice, if you’re very quiet, I’ll only give you twelve,” she said, with a curious look in her eye. Cheyenne let fly with the crop at blinding speed, and Frank was forced to bite his lip as the crop slammed upwards into the bottom of his testicles.

“One,” Cheyenne said.

I’m not going to scream I’m not going to scream please God don’t make me scream I don’t want to scream—

“WHACK!!”

“Two.”

no screaming no screaming, God it hurts no screaming—

“WHACK!!”

“Three.”

can’t scream can’t scream mustn’t scream, don’t scream Frankie boy—

“WHACK!!”

“Four.”

no can’t mustn’t won’t—

“WHACK!!”

And on it went it went. Each time Cheyenne hit him with the crop, and each time each through tears Frank bit his lip and resisted the urge to scream. By six strokes tears were streaming from his eyes. By nine strokes his lip was trembling, and his breathing was heavy. He had made it all the way through the eleventh stroke, when he felt a shock to his balls.

“AAAAAIIIIIIEEEEEEEII!!!”

“Oh, I’m sorry Frank.” Mercedes said. “I should be much more careful with this game. Here I was practicing, and I accidentally touched the side. Oh well. I guess this means you get the full twenty-five now. “

“Yes, I’m very disappointed, Frank. And to think I was going easy on you. I’ll have to do the other thirteen at full force.”

Cheyenne continued with the twenty five strokes, full force, and Frank’s screams echoed across the room.

V.

After the game was completed, the mistresses left Frank there, tied up “So he won’t get himself into any trouble,” as Ivy put it, while they went downstairs into their workshop. When they came upstairs he saw them carrying a large case. Frank didn’t have to see what was inside it, he knew it wasn’t going to be good.

“Well, Frank, you’ll be happy to know that Mercedes here came up with a major labor saving device, and you are going to be the person to get the benefits. Isn’t that great?” Cheyenne chuckled.

“I bet you’re dying to know what it is,” Amanda continued. “Mercedes show him what you invented.”

“You see Frank, being a Mistress is a tough job. We spend a good part of each day using our whips to keep you slaves in line, and it can be real murder on your arms right?” The other women nodded. “So I decided there had to be a better way. Behold—“ Mercedes opened up the case “—the RotoWhipper!”

Mercedes opened up the case and the other Mistresses applauded. Inside Frank saw what could only be described as a Weed-Whacker from Hell. At the top it looked like an ordinary gas-powered weed whacker, but at the bottom, at the business end, was a head that held two cat o’ nines on it. “It has an electric start motor that runs on Propane so you can run it indoors, and it has a variable speed motor so the punishment can always fit the crime!” Mercedes said, justifiably proud of her invention.

“This is something else,” Erica said. “Can I try it out?”

“Sure,” Mercedes replied. “Press that button right there.”

Erica picked up the RotoWhipper and pressed the button on the handle. The machine sputtered, then started idling. “Boy, it sure is quiet.”

“I put an extra large muffler on it so you can hear and ignore the slave’s pleas for mercy.” Mercedes replied. “C’mon, try it out on him.” Erica moved the constantly rotating head closer to Frank’s butt. The rapidly turning floggers started landing, and Frank could feel their sting as it warmed his behind.

“Wow, this is so effortless,” Erica said.

“Just wait until you try the paddle attachment.”

“Can I try?” Ivy asked.

“Sure, go ahead.”

Erica gave the RotoWhipper to Ivy. Ivy picked up the RotoWhipper and revved it twice. “Boy Frank are you in for a treat,” she devilishly chortled. Ivy revved the engine and moved the head in close proximity to Frank’s rapidly warming ass. Frank’s ass exploded in pain, but unlike before, the explosion didn’t stop with each stroke. It continued, and continued and continued, and Frank’s screams filled the room for a solid ten minutes. By the time Ivy stopped Frank felt a continuous burning on his ass, and Ivy hadn’t even worked up a sweat.

“Incredible!”

“Astounding!”

“Amazing!”

“mfl”

“Ivy, give me the RotoWhipper, I’ve got to try it,” Cheyenne said. “How does it work on balls”

“It works especially well on balls,” Mercedes replied

Cheyenne walked around turned the machine on his testicles. To Frank it felt like his balls were being pulled up and away from his body while being repeatedly beaten over and over again. The interminable slapping of the RotoWhipper against his testicles was vicious and Frank did not know if he could stand much more.

“You know Mercedes, if I had one of these I could stand here and whip a slave all day, and I would only have to stop to have lunch,” Cheyenne said, while still beating Frank’s testicles.

“Boy, it sure is a shame for Frank that I haven’t finished the floor stand yet. Then you would not only be able to take lunch, you wouldn’t have to turn it off at all!”

“This is really, really great,” Amanda said. “What’s this thing?”

“Oh, that, that’s the cane attachment, I’ve just finished work on it.”

“Can I try it?”

“Hmm, I don’t know . . .Sure! I don’t think Frank will mind.”

Mercedes installed the cane attachment and started it up for Amanda. Amanda immediately revved it hard twice, and went to work on Frank’s backside. Frank couldn’t believe that he could feel such pain. It felt like Amanda had turned on a laser and was using the RotoWhipper to carve something on his behind. When she was finished, the room exploded in laughter.

“Good one Amanda!”

“Amanda, You go girl!”

“You’re too much, Amanda!”

“mrfl?”

“Frank, “ Cheyenne said between laughs, “Amanda used the RotoWhipper to carve ‘Doctor’ on your left cheek, and ‘Love’ on the right! Isn’t that a hoot Doc-tor Lovvvve? “

VI.

Amanda loosened Frank’s bonds, and he collapsed on the floor in a heap. His voice was hoarse, his arms and legs ached, his ass was on fire and his nuts felt like they had been put through a hydraulic press. Interestingly, though, the mistresses demeanor changed again, becoming the friendly souls he saw when he first applied for the job.

“So Frank what do you think?” Cheyenne asked

Frank was very confused. First, he figured this was it, a trip to the reservoir, some concrete goulashes, and that was it. Secondly, he couldn’t believe it, should he, could he, did he actually enjoy it? Maybe so. “Do you have a 401k?”

Epilogue

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Frank lay there, strapped to the bondage table. The rope that Amanda had looped through a pulley and onto his testicles was connected to the water bottle and the first drops of water from the siphon were starting to fill it. He lay there amazed at what had transpired over the past week, amazed at the pain he had felt, amazed even more that he enjoyed it. He wondered what more tortures he would be receiving. Ivy had mentioned something about the “Human bagpipe” and Erica’s idea for “Slave Gnip-Gnop.” Most of all, he wondered how long it would be before the full weight of the water from Amanda’s “Drip of Doom” would be felt on his testicles and his muffled screams would again fill the room…