Digital Indoctrination VI

“We handle very violent patients here at Mills.”

The voice booms through my headphones, startling me.  Still the interruption is welcomed. The smooth maternal voice of Dr. Becky has come to soothe. And other then taps to my nose, it is my only human interaction. Unauthorized speech forbidden, I find myself moaning like a puppy in need of attention.

“And we do so cautiously. Perhaps to an extreme, but cautiously. Plus there’s certain comfort for those in need of strict guidance... to understand that recalcitrance is quickly countered.”

To what is this leading?

“And there’s the power exchange element. Most of those we treat here have used sex as an outlet for expressing dominance. We’ve found it is best to counter that... at all times.”

I am at last relieved of the unending darkness, my goggles alighting.

“To begin indoctrination, you’ll need to be released from your bindings... temporarily of course. The punishment chamber is in the bowels of the building... noise to be suppressed by floors of thick concrete.”

Punishment chamber? How does this juxtapose with my therapy? 

“I’m going to have you caned, Mr. Ross. There’s reluctance that must be overcome... refusing to fully divulge to me the course of events that mandated your court appearance... and your court ordered therapy. That will change.”

With that, the goggles return me to the medical chamber where the rest of me resides in nakedness on the rubber padded platform. The camera moves about, focusing on my right ankle. I am shocked to see a sizable ring penetrating at the Achilles heel, evidently thrust through my flesh between the ankle bone and tendon. In disbelief, I subconsciously wriggle my toes. The digits in the camera lens move in coordination. The foot and ankle are mine.

I have been pierced!   

The camera moves, confirming that the left ankle has been similarly ringed, then onward. Knowing that there have been fingers puttering about my biceps, my fears are well founded. Above the right elbow is another sizable ring, deeply set interiorly, no doubt also snaring a tendon. I close my eyes in horror as the camera moves to the left elbow.

“Such can be reversed, Mr. Ross... with little permanent effect. It’s the penis ring which may require some... well... term it rehabilitation... should it ever merit removal.”

With that, the camera moves to zoom in on my pubes. My heart sinks. Protruding from the urethral opening is a curved and heavily gauged strand of steel... stainless... matching my elbow and ankle piercings. It disappears, under my balls. If there is an end... and I suspect not... it is beneath my scrotum.

Dr. Becky refers to the penetrating metal as a ring. If so, somewhere at the perineum there must be another opening.

I can feel the rush of my circulation. I now understand the burdensome task of urinating... the puddle of excretions... my wet buttocks.

“Yes, a modest alteration, Mr. Ross. Drastic but necessary if you’re to be leashed by your penis. You’ll be squatting to urinate when freed of the table.”

The goggles go momentarily blank then alight anew.

“Some indoctrinating videos for you. You’ll find the computer graphics to be amazing. Virtual reality.”

It’s me! Freed of the platform, my estranged body no longer strapped supine, head and body reunited. Some how, the Mills Institute software most advanced, there comes onto the screen of my goggles a portrayal of my nakedness, assuming positions and moving about in vivid simulations.   

There comes this dichotomous rush, strangely sensing my real self moving. But then I note my arms are well pulled back at the elbows. Below a blue nylon strap runs from ankle to ankle, buckled in place utilizing my newly inserted rings. But most disquieting... my penis ring. To the thickly gauged loop of steel is a matching strip of blue nylon. My eyes widen as the length tightens, rising from the floor, the slack taken in by an unseen hand. There comes a woman’s voice, young, sweet and innocent. Yet it commands.

‘Come Mr. Ross. Let’s walk a bit... get you acclimated to being leashed.’

The graphics are stunning. It’s my form! How?

Then I recall standing naked before the green screen, commanded to assume a variety of poses while the half dozen cameras apparently whirred away. Once into the computer, the sophisticated software replicates my nakedness and moves it about in simulation.

I watch. I have no choice. My computer double clumsily strolls about, the leash tightening, the unseen hand jostling playfully, acclimating indeed... my simulation... succumbing to the whims of a controlling woman.

In this faux practice session my hobbled feet shuffle rapidly, tension on the penis ring, penetrating where a man feels most, to be avoided. I realize... I am being prepped... trained... learning what to expect and the utility of the monstrous rings inserted at the ankles, elbows and pubes.   

I feel myself blush, the humiliation intense. Yet I also sense stirring. Body unseen, something stirs within my loins. In so viewing, my real ringed penis is attempting to harden and the penetrating steel ring denies normal erection. Within moments I am in pain. There comes a moan. Then the recorded voice of the supervising nurse is interrupted.

“You’re exciting yourself Mr. Ross,” the clear soothing voice of Dr. Becky booming into the headphones. “You need to calm. Your penis will not... cannot... stand. It’s fighting tempered steel. You’ll need to control your thoughts... cede to the ring and the leash.”

It is firming. And I try to remain flaccid. But the scene excites. Why?

I begin to squirm, the discomfort building as the unseen hand guides my computer self around and around, my arousal building. Finally the graphic ends, the small screen within the goggles going blank. I am saddened to be returned to darkness yet oddly cheered to hear Dr. Becky’s maternal voice resume.

“You now know what to expect, Mr Ross. No inmate... ah... patient is ever free to roam about at the Mills Institute. The supervision is constant... and as you observed strict. And performed in a manner that makes the power exchange evident... reversed for the many sexual offenders we treat. It’s cathartic. Part of the therapy.”

I find myself nodding in agreement... as best my neck enclosure permits.

“Tomorrow it’s to the punishment room for you. You’ll be led there naked and leashed. And you have an appointment... a long appointment... with the Mills Institute disciplinarian... Fan Ling. You won’t enjoy her company... but you will learn to respect her skills. Thereafter we’ll speak. You’ll want to tell me more... so eager to avoid another appointment... everything concerning your drug induced encounter with stepdaughter Cindy.”

The ominous words are offered matter-of-factly. Then, with a click, the headphones go silent.

Am I quivering?