Cruel FemDom Fitness Training Camp

Without ceremony two trainers wheeled over a small, stainless-steel table. I'd been waxed before so I knew what a waxing setup looked like and it looked like a waxing setup right there on the small rolling table. Two trainers dipped tongue depressor-like sticks into the hot wax warmers and began applying the gooey and hot mixture to hair on my stomach, starting at about the navel. They applied a paper strip onto the liquid wax.

After allowing allowed the wax to cool both trainers yanked firmly on each paper strip to tear the hair and roots from my tender skin. The trainers we unconcerned about patient comfort thus leaving me with a compelling urge to scream. But I knew such an outburst would have repercussions of the negative variety.

Repeating the procedure again and again, the waxers worked their way down toward my pubis, ripping out hairs every inch of they way. They started out yanking simultaneously on the strips but as each developed her own rhythm the synchronization transformed into random attacks of pain. I started to perspire from effects of anticipation as they approached my cock and balls.

Not missing a beat they worked together on a wax/paper/rip cadence to thoroughly remove every single hair from my balls and the shaft of my penis. The shaft waxing hurt the most. They made sure to get that tender area at the back of the ball sac; an area often overlooked by more compassionate waxing professionals. I must have looked like I was going to scream because a dental-type gag was quickly attached to my mouth leaving me unable to speak.

They were unbelievably thorough waxing my balls. The process required repeated wax applications, followed by abrupt pulls, to remove every single hair from my genitals. Although they eventually removed most of the hair, that obviously wan't good enough. Sometimes the same exact spot required five or six waxings to make certain the surface was devoid of every single hair.

Eventually a third trainer joined in to being waxing my upper body so before long I completely lack hair, any hair whatsoever, from the neck down. I was more sensitive to body head, more aware of the slight breeze from the movement of a beautiful body nearby. That sensitively ramped up my feelings of vulnerability by at least an order of magnitude. Did I never feel nude.

I heard clippers behind me. Shortly thereafter I felt vibration on my head while a trainer administered a very fast buzz cut. It literally took under 60 seconds. I could see the reflection of my hairless body in the glass, half-wall divider. I felt exposed and dehumanized. I felt like someone had taken over my body. I'm sure that's exactly as they intended.

Distracted by newfound awareness as a hairless creature, I paid little attention to other activities going on until I abruptly felt pressure from as a nine-inch long enema tip being inserted into my rectum. I could feel an ever increasing sense of fullness as the lukewarm fluid drained into me from a red enema bag. The matching red rubber hose snaked across my hips and across my right thigh until reaching its intended destination.

"A quart of soapy warm water. Hold it for at least five minutes. Make a mess on the floor and you'll lick it up with your tongue." Harsh words from Mistress Blake.

A trainer appeared from behind me. She began firmly massaging my lower abdomen, presumably to help the water from the enema penetrate deep within me. There's no way to say what she said without being insulting. And I was properly insulsting when she commented, "this bowel massage would be a lot easier if you weren't so flubbery and rubbery." I couldn't apologize without paying a severe price for speaking without permission.

I was starting to cramp pretty badly when five minutes elapsed and I was released to run over to the toilet. Oh how it was going to feel good to expel this soapy torment.

"Wait," the skinny brunette said firmly. You may not use the toilet seat. Lift it and squat over the opening. Do not release until I give your permission to do so." The cramping was becoming more and more intense. Time was of the essence, and I was in no mood for a fecal snack. I feared I might explode. "Oh, she added, pausing, "don't worry, we won't have to smell your shit. The bowl is vented directly to the outside. The animals outside may hate you, though," she said with a sardonic chuckle.

I was breaking out in a sweat when she finally permitted me to release. She required me to open up slowly and not expel it all at once, just a few seconds at a time. Control. It's important to exercise control.

Having to stop the flow several times took enormous willpower but somehow I managed to complete the task, while my thighs endured searing pain from holding position over the toilet. After every last drop was expelled I returned to a standing position, relieved to stop the fire in my thighs.

An unknown and quite loud voice said, "who gave you permission to stand up?" My heart sank. A rule violation already. It was frustrating to receive a penalty before training even began when I was trying desperately to do everything just right.

The same voice continued in a demanding voice, "on the floor, on your back, hands underneath to support your back. You know the position." I complied.

"When I say begin you will raise your legs six inches above the floor. When I say lower you will lower them in a controlled fashion to the floor. Very simple. If you fail to maintain the position you will be punished. I never saw it coming and don't know what it was, a cane I assume, but I felt an incredible sting to my very erect penis such that I stopped short of passing out. I may have passed out but if I did I don't remember it.

Just as I was thinking how a strike like that was quite an effective deterrent from making another mistake she came down on my cock again, using even more force this time. Apparently I was indeed close to passing out because two trainers had kneeled beside me supporting my head. One was holding a smelling salt capsule beneath my nose.

The caning voice, out of view, said cheerfully, "We wouldn't want you to pass out and not be able to enjoy your punishment, now would we? How about if we give you just one more?"

"Please noooo" I said but it was too late, the "invisible" cane ripped into my now flaccid cock with such a sting sweat poured from my pores. The two trainers were applying a cool washcloth to my forehead and keeping the smelling salts within breathing distance. I struggled to keep my hands in place. I knew there would be hell to pay if I tried to block the strike or soothe its sequela.

That might have been the moment when I realized that this was deeply serious training and there wasn't going to be any tolerance for error whatsoever. This was not a game to these people. I was suddenly more frightened than I had ever been submitting to the control of a powerful Mistress. Very frightened.

"Let's try again," the voice behind me said. Legs up." I took a deep breath, contracted my abs to help raise my legs the requisite six inches. I don't know how long I held them but I was screaming in agony enduring splitting abdominal pain, yet choosing to endure that pain as an alternative to another unbelievably painful attack on my very sore penis.

"Your legs are shaking and slowly starting to lower," the hidden voice said, continuing, "I am going to count to five. Your legs will return to the proper position or you will receive a caning far worse than the three you experienced so far. Combined." I knew she was dead serious.

Somehow I mustered up the strength to bring my legs up the inch or so required to maintain the position. I don't know how long I continued to hold my legs up but it seemed liked hours. I was shaking, breathing hard, sweating, vibrating, screaming.

Finally and very calmly the voice from behind said, "you may lower your legs slowly, in a controlled manner, to the floor." It was the controlled manner thing that was excruciating. Somehow I managed to lower my legs without further intervention. I could feel my abs relax and just as they did, at that very moment, the blonde bent over and was in my face ordering me to get back onto the table. Face up.

The enemas continued progressively as I took in increasing amounts of water and expelled clearer and clearer fluid. For the final enemas a Mistress inserted a cold metal speculum to hold my anus open. Once the speculum was secured she inserted several feet of tubing upon which the speculum was released to prevent backflow. I had a series of these very deep enemas and found it odd watching the Mistresses closely examine the toilet for any signs of fecal material.

Once they were satisfied that they had cleansed me thoroughly inside I was once again secured to the table. "He's tiny, 14 french," I heard a trainer announce. I could hear plastic and paper crumpling and as the dark skin trainer, who had been remarkably silent thus far, approach I could see that she was opening a disposable urinary catheter. I had been catheterized only once before, after surgery, and I recall it being a painful and humiliating experience. I had started to become aroused again after the caning.

The dark trainer looked at my hardening cock and slowly shook her head. "Can't insert this while you're hard."

With that she thrust her right palm to the left causing it to firmly strike my defenseless tool. She then quickly backhanded from the left to the right. She slapped back and forth, pack and forth. I'm not sure the sounds I made were even intelligible, but that made no difference. After a long minute of enduring these strikes I was once again limp.

The dark skinned trainer donned sterile examination gloves, lubed the catheter with sterile, unit-dose KY jelly, and deftly inserted the catheter into my penis. She skillfully pushed it down my urethra with her right hand while holding my flaccid and new very small cock with her left hand. She knew exactly when the business end of the catheter entered my bladder.

I couldn't feel any urine draining but I could hear a tinkling sound coming from somewhere in front of me. Eventually the sound stopped. The trainer pushed firmly around on my lower abdomen and I could hear very short tinkle. She wasn't gentle removing the catheter from my cock and if I could have grabbed my penis at that moment to comfort it I would have done so.

"He's too narrow, " skinny brunette said. We'll sterilize urethral sounds tonight so we can open him up a bit tomorrow." She wasn't addressing me but we made eye contact as she finished the sentence. The sudden increase of my pulse rate reminded me of the intensity of my crush on her. She made no further comment but held her gaze on me longer than I expected. My cock wiggled a bit as it grew from the sensuality I was feeling.

She noticed the movement. I had hoped she hadn't. She shook her head back and forth to let me know we were not making any sort of special connection. I was disappointed.

Several trainers approached the table and quickly freed me from the restraints. "Over here," the strong blonde trainer said while pointing to an electronic scale. "This is fat clinic grade. It's accurate to one one-hundredth of a pound. You have no gastric contents, fecal matter or urine adding to your body weight so this will be an extremely accurate measurement."

She required me to step on and off the scale several times. I'm not sure why but the blonde trainer did not call out my weight. She whispered it to one of the other trainers who made note of it in a spiral bound notebook.

"Back to the table," the blonde trainer ordered.

I was once again secured to the exam table, in stirrups, ankles and wrists bound. I was expecting perhaps an even deeper enema this time. I was wrong.

CHAPTER 7: Pervasive Invasive Control

The thin, tall, sexy, fit brunette and one of the newer trainers approached me carrying a black plastic box. The newer trainer had curly, shoulder length hair. She was wearing a black fitness top and a skimpy bikini-type bottom with some loose strips of fabric reminiscent of something a trainer might have warn in the Tarzan era. She had abs of steel glistening from oil and I remember thinking that she wouldn't even feel it if I were to hit her in the stomach should I try to escape. Her stomach was made of steel.

I was hoping the box contained ice or something to sooth my aching penis. Yet I knew better than to dream.

Neither trainer spoke as both focused their attention toward my genital area. I could feel one use her thumb and forefinger to encircle my balls just beneath my shaft. It took her awhile to get a good grip but once she did she began pulling firmly on my balls, pulling them away from my body. Tugging and twisting it seemed she wanted to yank my testicles right off my body.

This stretching went on for longer than I expected, and at times I felt a soreness extending up into my abdomen with each pull, similar to the feeling a guy gets being struck in the balls by a hard object. A trainer appeared with a handheld mirror, adjusting it so I could see what was going on.

The curly haired trainer with the tight abs quipped, "I'll bet you've never seen your balls this far from your body." It wasn't a question and she was right. Although the tugging felt tight and generally uncomfortable, it sure didn't feel like they had stretched out three inches of skin between my cock and balls. But they had.

There seemed to be some shuffling about and I couldn't see my hands to be sure, but I thought I felt a cotton pad being applied to the top of my hand. There was a sudden sting and I wasn't sure what had happened. A voice said, "lactated ringers. Your first IV hydration." Whoa, this was getting serious. Very serious.

The thin brunette pulled out one of those heavy, stainless steel cock rings from the plastic box. It was over an inch in diameter and at least one-quarter inch thick of heavy stainless steel. Hinged on one side, the steel cock ring opened like a book. Closed it formed a ring which could be locked using a hex wrench. I felt the cold steel wrapping around the stretched skin between my cock and balls followed by more tugging and yanking and other manipulating while the curly-hair blonde trainer closed the device. I found it thoughtful she was at least avoiding pinching me.

She used a hex wrench to tighten the latch and I was surprised at how many revolutions of the wrench were needed until the ring was secure. Oddly, she held the tip of the wrench for me to see. "You can't buy this wrench in any store. It has a proprietary pattern, just like a key." She paused long enough to display a devious grin, continuing, "so don't get any ideas about removing the ring yourself. You'll have to tear your balls off to free it."

A trainer appeared from behind me brandishing a handheld mirror which she again placed enabling me to see this large, heavy contraption separating my cock from my balls. I also noticed one red and one black electrical wire attached to the ring. That caused me some concern. My Mistress, Mistress V, particularly enjoyed electrical play so my concern was that this training tool was something She contrived.

The trainers excelled at multitasking. The blonde, Mistress Blake, brought out the largest electro plug I have ever seen. It was huge, well over two inches in diameter, maybe more.

"We have to get this in there before we begin training. Get the dilators. He's too tight for this now." She would know that from the time she spent with her fingers inserted in me during the measuring and milking. "Start with the largest he can take and work him up to at least three inches, " Mistress Blake demanded.

The brunette I had the crush on used the lube syringe to inject several loads of ID

Glide into and around my anal opening. I watched as the curly blonde opened an aluminum case she had placed on the rolling table. The contents of the case were rectal dilators arranged by size. The largest appeared to be too large for any human to endure.

"V said with practice he can do two inch diameter. Let's start there to save time." Words from the strong blonde I had first met at the house this morning.

Thus began a half hour of enduring anal trainers of increasing size. Each was inserted slowly, then thrust back and forth until the resistance reduced. It was then removed completely and reinserted completely. This stage also continued until they were satisfied my sphincter could handle the next larger size.

The last two or three dilators seemed so large I thought there was no way I could take them. I felt a great deal of discomfort as the three-inch dilator was inserted for the first time. Because they had progressed in increments it did not take as long as I expected until the three-inch diameter dilator was inserted and removed with only moderate resistance.

"I think he's ready. Let's try it, " a voice sounding like the strong blonde observed.

My crush the skinny brunette was holding the largest electro plug I had ever seen. Measuring at least three inches in diameter it was larger than any anal toy I had ever experienced. I felt a panic coming on.

The strong blonde took over at this point. She used the syringe to fill me with additional lube and then squirted the lube to thoroughly cover the giant electrosex plug.

"Take in a deep slow breath, " she ordered, looking directly into my eyes. "Exhale rapidly when I tell you to." This isn't going to be gentle and we need to get this in there. I did as she said and had to let out a whimper moments before I could feel my sphincter contract again after swallowing the giant plug. My breathing was rapid by now.

Aside from the relief that the insertion was complete I began worrying about the difficulty when the time came to extract the plug. After all, I was to receive a series of enemas every morning. Part of my mind drifted, wondering whether I might be able to slip it out at night. I know wearing a large plug is not comfortable over an extended period. And this electric monster sets my record for size.

A mistress approached from behind me carrying a red rubber tube bearing an inflation bulb on one end. I felt some movement on the giant plug while the tube was being connected.

A mistress began pumping the bulb with her hand as I felt a fullness from within. Thoughtfully, the Mistress explained, "I inflated a ring inside you on the base of the plug. The plug cannot be removed unless this tube is used to release it. If you try to remove it you will injure yourself, perhaps seriously."

While all that was going on I barely noticed a four inch posture collar had been placed around my neck. I started paying attention when I saw a padlock being lowered to secure a buckle under my chin. I sensed a hard plastic case attached to the rear of the collar and suspected it was the power source for the electro toys. I turned out to be right about that.

The dark skinned trainer told me to arch my back. While I was doing so she ran two sets of wires on the table under my back. She went to the end of table, facing me, and after feeling some twisting and pulling I had a feeling both the plug and the heavy steel cock ring were ready for business.

I could hear activity all around and could see a couple of the seemingly silent trainers packing up the equipment on the rolling table.

All of the sudden the room was filled with a very loud exclamation of what sounded like a combination of "ahhh" and "yelp." Loud and abrupt the sound startled all of us. Most of all it startled me when I realized I am the one who made the sound.

"Seems to be working quite effectively," commented the voice I now know belonged to the strong blonde from the house.

Speaking in a voice of authority she decided to get things moving. "He's ready. It's already after 9. We've got 17 hours of training ahead of us today so let's get started. Weights on."