Saturday, May 31, 2014

A Woman in Control - My good organizer X

My good organizer X

Jack’s chemical castration steadily advances. Cyproterone acetate injections on Fridays, a stout pill with coffee at my desk Monday through Thursday. Saturday and Sunday the pill offered as he lies in Posey cuffs.

Within two months of the deluge of cyproterone acetate, Dr. Helstadt calls to announce that the latest semen sample extracted by Nurse Benson’s electroejaculation is devoid of sperm and the testosterone level is non existent. She describes his penis size, caged except for cleaning time at the clinic, as that of an infant. I commend the good doctor on being prescient in modifying the manner in which his cock cage remains attached. With testicles shrunken to the size of peas, the scrotum appears to be an empty puff of flesh, otherwise not able to hold anything in place.

“Observe his behavior,” she advises. “It will take time for him to acclimate to the hormonal imbalance. Have fun placating his quests... soft clothing... fattening foods... pretty stuff. His emotional transformation will continue. You have a little girl,” the doctor somewhat guffawing. “Why not see what he looks like in makeup. I would be surprised if he resists...”

I guess I will.

Still, visits to Dr. Helstadt’s clinic continue. Yes, Nurse Benson continues with electroejaculation but there is no longer need to test the sample. Jack now spurts a very limited amount of clear gooey prostatic fluid. With each visit, Nurse Benson dispensing the mandatory three jolts, she shows a very distraught Jack the extracted specimen... smirking... mocking... driving home the castration... pounding into his psyche the finality of a woman’s forced transition.

It’s good for him.    

Meanwhile, I have been learning the canine control unit adapted for the male genitals... Jack’s shrinking male genitals. Dr. Helmstadt installed as described and I had one of my stud muffins, a well endowed electrician that I ride on Wednesdays, wire Jack’s apartment. Every room becomes a self contained chamber from which Jack cannot step without permission. Main door to the hallway and elevator, the doors to his old bedroom where I have moved much of my stuff, the kitchen, the bathroom and particularly the spare bedroom should he ever some how break free of the Posey cuffs and straps.

This means I can leave the apartment for errands and romantic rendevous knowing that Jack will stay where I put him. Mostly in the kitchen, where he labors for me naked before a hot stove. Try to exit... a debilitating shock to the penis and testicles, the Prince’s Wand delivering a jolt well into the viscera. 

So he must call me for bathroom visits... at which time I may graciously use my remote to momentarily turn off the charge while he moves to the desired room. Many times I delay his requested bathroom breaks... a girl has to have some fun after all.

As explained, I can also press a button and deliver a variety of charges from near or far... the remote working on the pager frequency network. There are reminder shocks, naughty boy shocks, agonizing shocks for very bad behavior.

I also enjoy delivering two quick reminder shocks every time I get laid... Jack knowing that while he labors in chastity, I am being satiated in a manner that he can never replicate. It wounds him, but it is best for his psyche. My pleasure... always first. His... only derived from pleasing me.

The difficult part of completing Jack’s electronic captivity was surreptitiously installing an antenna about the frame of his office door. For that I had to sneak my electrician friend into the office on a Sunday. But once done, the thin wire outlining the door frame is not noticed and Jack must stay in his office or call me for permission to leave. His bathroom breaks are no longer on the honor system.

As stated, I deliberately kept a small portion of the vast stash of Jack’s pornography. I scanned, selecting tasteful photos with very specific attributes. All are of fully clothed women being served in some manner by naked men. This needs to be ingrained, come of acceptance no matter the circumstances and the environment. So I develop a montage in my computer and turn it into a slide show, each picture flashing for some ten to fifteen seconds before the show continues to the next photo. Then I purchase a small inexpensive laptop and projector for the spare bedroom.

The result, directly over Jack’s face, flashing onto the ceiling of the dark barren bedroom come the photos, one after another... docile men... naked men... in servitude to charming women... fully clothed in ordinary attire, no bondage gear. It’s important that psychologically Jack’s naked subservience be mentally accepted as normal.

Brainwashing? Sure, why not? It is either staring at my relatively tasteful photos projected on the ceiling or endless darkness.    

I also surf the web and download to form a second montage, a little more specific, for later, should Jack come to resist or protest the paradigm of his new existence.  

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