by SomaSlave

It was a chilly, somewhat overcast day when I arrived at the motel office to pick up my room key, Mrs. King was waiting for me.

“Follow me, Soma. Today, you’re going to be in a different room.”

She took my hand and led me out the door. This was strange, I thought. She never takes my hand and her voice had an odd quaver to it. Could she be falling for me? And why did I leave my jacket in the car when we, apparently, were heading to the other end of the motel and up to the third floor?

“I’m sure you’re wondering why the change in location. I have a special client for you today. She’s a friend of mine, a medical professional with some, let us say, interesting and specialized tastes.”

I perked up at that. A woman and a kinky one at that? This could be interesting and a lot of fun. While my focus has been on men lately, I still enjoy the feel and taste of a woman. This I can handle, I thought, my cock starting to offer its agreement.

“I remember you mentioned you had served Dommes in the past. That will serve you well today. She has an interest in the administration of pain. As a medical professional, she knows how to do so without doing damage to you. She’s also my friend, so I trust her not to hurt you. I also expect you to show her the utmost respect. While you’ll have a safeword, I trust you not to embarrass me by wimping out.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” I said, too quickly. “I have a reasonably high pain tolerance, and I’ve never had to call safeword with a Mistress. I won’t let you down…as long as she doesn’t bring her chainsaw.”

“I’ll tell her to leave it in the car, at least until she ties you down. Seriously, Soma, we have a special room for our clients with more…intense interests. That’s where we’re going now. It’s a bit more sparse than your regular room and furnished for better bondage. It’s also soundproofed better. Still, I hope you won’t be screaming too loudly.”

“Not a problem,” I laughed, though not as sincerely as I’d hoped.

“Your safety is still our top concern,” she continued. “We have cameras monitoring every part of the room. I’ll be monitoring the entire session.” The gleam in her eye and the way she smiled as she said that let me know that she would, indeed, be watching, and with more than professional interest.

“What does she like to do with her subs?”

“That would be telling. Besides, she likes it to be a surprise. As always, you’ll be blindfolded and bound to the bed when she arrives. Your safeword is ‘Goldilocks.’ Beyond that, all I can tell you is that, while she won’t harm you and she won’t mark you, she most assuredly will give you pain. You will call her Ma’am. And remember this: she is not a Domme; she’s a sadist.

“And here’s your room. When you go in, you’ll find everything you need. You don’t need to take a shower, but do apply the enema and shave your scrotum and anal area. She’s on a tight schedule today, so you need to be ready within half an hour.

“I just shaved my crotch this morning, so we can dispense with that.”

“No, Soma! She was quite clear that you were to shave those areas just before she arrives. I don’t know why she specified that, but I do know that she doesn’t give instructions without very good reasons.”

“Yes, Ma’am. I’ll shave them again.” My curiosity was aroused. Why did she need me freshly shaved? Some clothespin play, perhaps? Another zipper? Perhaps she wanted them bare so she could rub ice on them more effectively? I decided it was best not to speculate and simply obey.

“I’ll leave you to your preparations. It’s too cold to stand around here. No, you won’t need the card key. I’ll come back when she’s finished with you.” That certainly sounded comforting. This was going to be an interesting session.

Mrs. King was right about the room: it was, relatively speaking, sparse. On reflection, I realized the impression was due almost solely to the bed. It was a queen bed with a white sheet, a single pillow about halfway down the bed and nothing else on it…except for the cuffs. There were a pair for my wrists and one for my ankles. The ankle cuffs were on the same level with the pillow. The cuffs were held in place by chains rather than the usual rope or strap, giving the restraints a more ominous look. On the pillow was a blindfold.

There were three ceiling mounted cameras focused on the bed, one on the living area and another in the bathroom. Unlike the cameras in my regular room, there was no effort to hide these. It seemed, rather, they were positioned to remind the client that she was being monitored. I gave a wave to one of the cameras, though I was not exactly reassured by the heightened security. What were they expecting to happen?

As I started to undress, I noticed a clipboard on the dresser, with a pen. I picked it up and saw it held two pieces of paper for me to fill out. The first was a standard medical history form. I filled it out with a smile: looks like this is going to be some medical role play. I can definitely handle that. And, maybe, she’ll even have sounds. I adjusted my cock, remembering my first experience with a medical Domme and her sounds. This may not be so bad…

…and then I saw the second form: a medical release. As I read it, my heart rate increased as I pondered the implications of the words:

“I (name) understand that the procedure I’m undergoing is experimental in nature and offers me no therapeutic benefits. I further understand that the procedure will involve some pain. I acknowledge that I accept the pain willingly. I also acknowledge that I may stop the procedure by a mutually agreed on signal. I realize that experimental procedures may result in unexpected side effects. I hold the practitioner harmless from any liability for such side effects and damages.”

Next to the place for my signature was Mrs. King’s signature as witness. That was enough reassurance for me. She had seen the document and, doubtless, knew what was going to happen. The Kings had taken good care of me and not allowed anything bad to happen. I signed the paper and started my preparations.

I undressed and put my clothes in their customary dresser drawer, wondering if there were other rooms like this. Clearly, the Kings’ business catered to more than the horny businessman. Not surprisingly, my cock was growing by the second, stirred by memories of BDSM experiences past. Perhaps, I hoped, today would be a bit more intense than the usual clothespins and ice cubes…

…but time was flying and I had prep work to do. I decided to shave while holding the enema in me. I went to the sink area and found the usual two enema bottles. One of them was labeled “After.” That was a first, but I knew that things here were always done with intention. So, it was to be a single enema today, which probably meant not a lot of deep penetration. I filled myself with the one bottle then stood up to shave.

The razor was a cheap single blade disposable, not the usual five-blade model. I had to be more careful than usual around my scrotum; even so, the shave was more irritating than usual. I also wondered about Mrs. King’s instructions: only the scrotum, not the rest of my crotch. I didn’t have time to wonder about that, as the clock was ticking and I needed to expel the enema before shaving my anal area. Again, very specific instructions, and, again, the blade was more irritating than thorough.

After I was ready, I took off my glasses and put them in the dresser, effectively half blindfolding me. I crawled onto the bed and adjusted the pillow so my tush was resting on it. I had to spread my legs almost to the edge of the bed to put the ankle cuffs on. My feet were flat on the bed, knees up and my crotch and anus wide open and available. I wiped the precum from my cock and tasted it.

Then I laid back and examined the wrist cuffs. Instead of the buckle arrangement of the ankle cuffs, they had a small ratcheting mechanism. When I gave them a tug, they would tighten on my wrists. Given the length the chain, that was good, as I wouldn’t be able to manipulate a buckle with my arms spread out to reach them. Fortunately, they were fur lined, so they wouldn’t irritate my wrists. They were also made so that they locked around my forearm, avoiding the blood vessels and nerves of my wrists. They were built for heavy duty action. The whole arrangement was designed to keep a man from pulling out of them, no matter how much he struggled. It seemed overkill to me; at least, I hoped it was overkill.

With a last deep breath, I put my right arm in its cuff and pulled it taut. Next was the blindfold. I gave a last look at the camera above me and hoped someone was watching it. Then, the blindfold cast me into darkness and to the beginning of subspace. I put the other arm in its bondage and pulled it tight. There was nothing left to do but wait for…what? I realized I wasn’t going to be snoozing while waiting this time.

I was in a familiar spot: blindfolded, naked and waiting for someone to come in and use me for their pleasure. This time, though, instead of resting or relaxing, the promise of what was to come led my mind down the early days of my sensual explorations and my experiences with Dommes: Mistress Phyllis and her 84 mini-clothespins; Mistress Mia and her Saran Wrap mummification; the pro domme and her apprentice in Los Angeles; my memorable first encounter with a Mistress in a MUD; the cum shampoo I received from a multi-orgasmic sub…so many experiences, all leading me to this moment.

And then, the sound of a door opening and closing and a coat being removed. I lifted my head slightly, though with the blindfold on, that was a futile gesture. I could hear her pick up the clipboard and flip through the papers, then a rich contralto that could only belong to a woman of a certain age. As she spoke, I heard her opening a case and setting some items on the dresser.

“I see you’re in reasonably good health for a man of your age. Before we get started, I want to go over the rules for this session. You will address me as ‘Ma’am’ and speak only when I ask you a direct question. I’m not interested in conversation with you, only in your reactions to this experimental treatment. Yes, the forms are not just roleplay.

“Mrs. King tells me you have a high pain tolerance and a desire to please. Since you’ve signed over your rights and are bound, I’m not concerned about your ability to please me. I shall make whatever use of you I feel necessary. As for your high pain tolerance, we shall see…but I appreciate the challenge.

“Are you familiar with figging?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I answered, realizing this was a true Domme. “Figging is the practice of inserting pieces of ginger into sensitive areas of the body, typically the vagina and anus.”

“And don’t forget the urethra,” she added, “especially the urethra.” The way she paused over that caused me to shudder inside.

“I’ve been working on a way to intensify and simplify the figging experience. Preparing the ginger and carving it is too time consuming. I’ve been working on a ginger based cream that will be easier to apply. It’s a special treat for my sub. However, before I use it on her, I need to ensure it won’t harm her too badly, but that it will give her the agony I enjoy seeing on her face. You are going to be my first clinical trial. Let’s get you ready.”

I felt a gloved hand grab my scrotum and lift it, while the other hand snapped a band around it and the base of my cock, which, naturally, responded.

“Good; your penis is engorging nicely. The cock strap will prevent it from detumescing later on. Now, we need to establish a pain baseline. As the trial proceeds, I’ll ask you to estimate the amount of pain you’re feeling, on a scale of 1 to 10. This,” smacking my thigh smartly, “is a 1. And this,” squeezing one ball tightly and drawing a sharp hiss from me, “is a 10. Will you remember that, or do I need to repeat the baselines?”

“No, Ma’am,” I responded very quickly. “I understand the baselines.”

“Very good. We shall begin.”

I heard a jar lid being unscrewed and caught a sharp smell I couldn’t quite identify. A bit of camphor, a bit of pine, perhaps. Then, I felt her finger rubbing something on my scrotum. It was cool, but stung my skin. As I breathed in sharply, I recalled the single blade razor and understood why she wanted my skin to be irritated. The stinging intensified to a burning and I stiffened my body with the sensation. Please don’t let that go on my cock, I begged silently.

“How would you classify that pain level?”

I was so caught up in the burning sensation that I didn’t respond to her question right away. A sharp slap against my balls brought me back to focus.

“I need your immediate reactions. If you don’t answer my questions immediately, I shall need to get your attention. Don’t bother to answer now. The delay and the extra stimulus have rendered your answer unreliable.”

“I’m sorry, Ma’am; it won’t…” I was cut off by a hand pulling down my balls and squeezing them tight. This time, I yelled. I belatedly realized why the room was soundproofed and wondered what I had gotten myself into. What frightened me the most was the even tone of her voice throughout the session. Not once did she raise her voice. Mrs. King had warned me she was a sadist. Was she also a sociopath?

“This is a cream with a ginger base along with a few other ingredients to enhance its effects. I want to see how it compares to regular figging, so I’m going to apply it to the usual locations, as well as seeing how it works internally.

“You are going to experience some intense sensations. Rest assured that, while the pain will be excruciating, it should reduce over time and be gone within a few hours. I’ll give you aftercare instructions when the procedure is finished.”

A few hours? This was going too far.

“You are probably starting to have second thoughts about volunteering for this clinical trial. Normally, I wouldn’t care. However, because you are a revenue stream for Mrs. King, I shall give you this one chance to call safe word. If you do, of course, you’ll disappoint her and demonstrate your lack of character, but, frankly, I don’t expect a lot from men. They talk a lot about pain tolerance and submission, but, in the end, it’s all about them. Well? What’s it to be?”

Her words cut into me. I had prided myself on being the Giver of Pleasure, even if that pleasure came from my own pain and suffering. But this was something else: before, the pain had been erotically administered and led me to the wonderful world of endorphins and subspace. I knew instinctively that this woman had no intention of kicking up the intensity slowly, of letting me adjust. This was going to be a form of brutality I had never experienced at the hands of a Domme: the brutality of complete indifference. She had no more concern for me than she would have for any lab animal. Why would I willingly submit to that?

Then I knew why I would: I wasn’t submitting to her. I was submitting to Mrs. King, to Mr. King, to my owners. In that moment, I knew I was their slave, completely and totally. I would do whatever they told me, endure whatever ordeal they wanted. To them, I was simply an employee, helping them make money. But I knew it was more: it was my destiny.

“Yes, Ma’am,” I whispered, “I’ll continue.”

“A little louder, please. Are you consenting to continue with the clinical trial without reservation and without safeword?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I said, a bit of bravado coming into my voice, “I consent for you to use me in your trial as you wish and I relinquish the use of my safeword for the duration.”

“Very well,” she said, in the same flat tone of voice, “I have that recorded on my phone. We can now get down to business.

“I shall explain the procedure now while you’re still able to process my words. As you’ve noticed, the cream I’ve developed mimics the effects of traditional figging, including the gradual intensifying of the sensations. I’m still trying to gauge the right blend of ingredients to slow that down. You will be the first to enjoy the full effects.

“I shall be using this on my sub’s vagina and anus when it’s ready. Today, I’m going to administer it to you anally via a coated dildo. At several points, I’ll ask you for a pain assessment. You may reply with a number only. Following that, since you don’t have a vagina, I shall use your urethra as a proxy. I have a collection of sounds that will deliver the cream. They are clean and sterile, as I put them in an autoclave between uses.

“You shouldn’t suffer any long term damage. However, you should expect a level of pain you haven’t experienced before. Feel free to cry and yell. However, if you make too much noise, I shall have to gag you. I’m sure that will happen.” She gave a satisfied sigh that filled me with dread. But it also caused my cock, which was now fully engorged and kept so by the band she had placed around it, to twitch. I had no doubt there was precum on it.

“First, your anal opening.” I felt one hand spread my cheeks to allow the other hand access to my anus. She blew gently over it, causing me to jump in surprise, then spread the cream around the opening. It felt cool for about five seconds, then started heating up. A wasp nest must have been dropped into the room; I could feel them all stinging my membrane.

“Pain level?”

“7,” I said through gritted teeth.

“Interesting. You seem to have a high pain tolerance, or, at least, you’re trying to persuade me that you do. Men think that toughing it out will ennoble them. It only brings more pain.”

With that, she inserted two fingers into my anus and rubbed them inside, leaving my rectum coated with the infernal cream. The wasps had been replaced by fire ants, who had taken up residence inside me. I squirmed on her fingers, trying to figure out some way to get a smidgen of pleasure out of this. I wondered if I was blistering internally. After an eternity of this, she pulled out her fingers and stepped away for a moment.

Through a haze, I heard her voice again. “The next step is to assess the damage when I use my strap-on with my sub. Since you don’t have a vagina, we’ll have to use your ass instead.”

I felt something prodding at my ass and realized she had been opening me up for her to take my ass. I hoped she would be as gentle with me as she would be with her sub.

She was, which is to say she drove into me with a vengeance. The dildo quickly bottomed out in me and I screamed as I felt her hips slam into my tush. The dildo must have been thickly coated with the cream to slide in that easily. The cream was now deep in my bowels and I knew I was in serious trouble. She held her position.

“Pain level?”

“Ni-ni-ni-nine,” I whimpered, feeling tears start to run down my blindfold.

“Interesting. You’re holding back your rating. Do you think I’m going to give you even more pain? Hmmm, you may be right. But, first, let me show you how I make love to my sub.”

With that, she pulled out almost completely, then drove back in. She quickly established a jack hammer rhythm. I could feel drops of her sweat hit my skin. In the midst of the growing pains, the sharp stinging, the dull thudding, the persistent burning, I wondered when she had climbed onto the bed to rape me like this. Her poor sub; was this truly how she treated her? She must be a bigger masochist than I ever thought I could be.

I knew now why the cuffs were attached with chains. In my current state, I would have pulled apart a rope tie. I was also thankful they were fur lined; otherwise, my forearms and ankles would be chafed and bloody. My body shook as she continued to plunge into me, apparently without pleasure. I heard no moans from her, no sounds of pleasure, only the occasional grunt as she drove deep into me. Occasionally, she would stop with just the tip of the dildo in me and would coat the rest with more of that hellish cream.

There would be no endorphin rush for me, no entry into subspace. As I became more aware of my tears and my cries of pain, a curious calm came over me. The situation was what it was. My body was going to be royally abused for this woman’s…pleasure? Amusement? Research? It didn’t matter. This was my job: not to enjoy what was happening, but to endure it, to make Mrs. King proud of me.

My tears made me angry at myself. I’m not one to cry, and she’s not going to turn me into a quivering mass of jelly. I forced myself to focus on my breathing, to try to slow it down. If this was a clinical trial, fine. I would be a clinical subject. And I would not be broken by this sociopath.

At some point, this phase of the trial ended, and she pulled out of me. My ass was throbbing and my innards were on fire. My body was shaking with the residual pain. As my head started clearing, I could feel wetness on my cheeks from the tears streaming down them. The blindfold must be soaked.

Again, the question, “Pain level?”

“Eight.” I knew that answer would not bode well for the next part of her experiment, but I’m stupid that way.

“Interesting,” she replied after a minute, with an edge to her voice I hadn’t heard before. “I guess I’ll have to use the larger dildo on my sub. But, on to the final phase of this clinical trial.”

I almost felt sorry for her sub, who was going to bear the brunt of my stubbornness. However, anyone who would submit to this sadistic bitch deserved whatever she dished out. She would have to be a high level masochist and pain slut…or a broken woman with no self-respect or self-worth. She wouldn’t break me like that.

I felt her hand grab hold of my still erect cock and run a gloved finger over my cock head. For the first time, I felt a sensation that might be interpreted as pleasurable, though it was quite unintentional.

“You’re leaking a large amount of seminal fluid. We can’t have that interfering with the administration of the test cream. We need to clean your urethra.”

She got off the bed and walked away briefly. I heard a snapping sound that must have been her purse. She walked around until I could feel her presence near my head. The musky smell indicated she was not as mechanical about this as I had thought.

“The final phase of this clinical trial is to examine the impact of my mixture on your urethra. To maximize the impact, I need to drain the seminal fluid out of your penis. A simple milking action should suffice.”

Her hand reached down and started stroking my cock. My first moan of pleasure quickly turned to a cry of pain as I learned she was using her infernal cream as a lubricant. She milked my cock efficiently, squeezing at the base and pulling her fingers up to force out the fluid. She proceeded methodically, never sliding her fingers down my cock, but starting fresh at the base each time. Her upward stroke was firm and slow, ending before reaching my cock head. It was a hand job without pleasure. My one consolation was that she was not rubbing the cream on my head, only the shaft.

“That should do. Now, let’s begin with the sounds. I’m going to start with the thinnest one and progress until your penis can’t handle anything thicker.”

Her hand grabbed my cock and pulled it up. I felt a cold metal ball playing around my cock opening, then sliding down my urethra. Lubricated by the fiery cream, it slid down easily, setting my cock on fire as it went. She guided it down slowly and professionally; clearly, she was experienced at using sounds. When she pulled it out, the fire was slowly replaced by an intense itch, which I could not scratch. I twitched my cock as best I could and rubbed my ass against the pillow in a futile attempt to ease the itch. This irritation was unexpected and unendurable. I whimpered softly.

“That is an unusual reaction. Tell me what you’re experiencing.”

“My cock itches inside. It’s driving me crazy!”

“An interesting reaction. It may be a simple effect of the cream, or it may be an allergic response. If it’s the latter, I’m afraid you may be in for quite a bit of discomfort over the next few days. We’ll see how it responds to larger sounds.”

The next sound had even more cream on it. The fire returned and made its way down my shaft. When she had bottomed out the sound, she rotated it slowly, adding a new level of pain. I couldn’t control my cries.

“I warned you I would have to gag you if you made too much noise. Very well.”

The bed creaked as she climbed on it. I could feel her warmth and smell her musk as she hovered over me. Without warning, she lowered her crotch over my face. Her pubic hair filled my open mouth and I found myself struggling to breathe as she settled herself on my face. The entire time, she was sliding the sound up and down.

“If you’re going to cry, you can do so on my clitoris and give me a little pleasure for all the work I’m doing.”

My mouth was being filled with a mixture of my tears, her hairs and the fluid that showed she was enjoying this more than she was saying. My cries of pain were turning into shouts of panic as my breathing was becoming labored. My nose was filled with the smells of her crotch and ass and not oxygen. I forced myself to relax and stop the cries. At last, she relented and rested her ass on my blindfolded eyes and forehead.

“Now, let’s proceed.” She moved to the next sound. My burning shaft wasn’t ignored, as she was applying more cream every time she held it to insert a new sound. The third sound started to stretch my hole and required her to slide it down more slowly, giving my urethra time to stretch. It also allowed the cream to burn its way down more slowly, creating a sensation of itching gradually giving way to burning.

“Oh, that’s right, your urethra is itching. I should help you by scratching it,” she said, starting to slide the sound up and down, the ball at the end rubbing the cream more deeply into the sensitive tissue. Once again, the pain drove through my self-control and I started crying out again. She slid her ass down my face to let my suffering pleasure her. I could taste her fluids on my tongue and noted, bitterly, that I was apparently back in Pleasure Giver mode. Her clinical detachment was starting to give way to something more primitive.

My tongue worked her pussy and ass feverishly as she slid back and forth on my face, keeping me from breathing. Just when I thought I would pass out, she raised up to replace one sound with the next one. She must have done this before: she was able to gauge just how long she could cut off my breathing without making me pass out. My world was collapsing to the smell and taste of her musk and the ever present pain.

I tried counting the number of sounds she used on me, but, by the fifth or sixth one, I was beyond being able to count. My world was a mixture of itching, burning, suffocation, screaming and tears. I no longer knew if I was breathing or not, or where I was. This was a different kind of subspace: losing my orientation without the release of endorphins to relieve the pain. Finally, when I thought I could take no more, I heard a distant shout and wondered dimly how I could be screaming when my mouth was covered by her crotch and filling with her fluids. Then my scream joined hers, as she yanked the sound out of my cock.

When I had recovered my senses a bit, I noticed I was still bound, but my cock was free from its band and I was alone on the bed. I heard the shower and realized someone was in it. Who? Slowly, my mind came back online and I knew it was the client, cleaning herself off. As more of my systems returned, the pain started to register again. My entire crotch area was ablaze, inside and out. My cock no longer itched, but the pain was intense. My intestines were ablaze and I wondered if I would ever be able to have a normal bowel movement again. How would I explain the damage to my doctor?

I think I was no longer yelling, but I was groaning in pain and squirming in my bonds. I heard her moving about, dressing and packing her stuff. She pulled on a pair of examination gloves and inspected the areas she had previously assaulted. Thankfully, the gloves were dry.

I cried out as I felt more moisture on my anal opening, but it was only a lubricant. The entry of a cold metal object into my rectum gave me a start, though the coolness was a welcome relief. I felt it expanding and stretching my anus open. After a minute or so, she removed it from me and put it in what sounded like a paper bag.

“It appears there’s no permanent damage. The redness is a little more than I thought, but there’s no blistering. You’ve given me enough information to modify the formulation for maximum effectiveness with my sub. I’m sure she’ll thank you for that.

“Now, as to your aftercare: I would suggest you use the enema as soon as Mrs. King releases you. You may also wish to consider a stool softener for the next few days. Drink plenty of water to encourage urination. The first few times will be uncomfortable, but things should be back to normal within a week. The cream should come off with soap and water. However, the ginger solution has gone into your skin and may continue to cause irritation for a few days. Report any major side effects to Mrs. King. She’ll contact me. Someone will be here to release you shortly.”

With that, I heard the door open and close. I was alone, burning with pain and humiliation. After all I had gone through for her, she had left without any thanks or any concern for my well being. I had been simply a lab animal for her. Even her orgasm came simply as a result of using me as a kinky sex toy. For the first time, I felt shame. And, from somewhere deep within me, came a sobbing the likes of which I had never experienced. I was bawling like a baby. What her sadism couldn’t do, her utter indifference to me had done: I was broken.

At last, the door opened and I heard Mrs. King’s voice.

“It’s all right, now, Soma. I’m here.”

She removed my blindfold and I turned my head away, ashamed of my tears and my blubbering. She gently unbound my ankles and massaged them as she straightened my legs. She freed my arms and helped me gently to a sitting position. She pulled my head into her shoulder and wrapped her arms around me as I continued sobbing. She held me without speaking, occasionally rubbing my back and letting me cry myself out. My body was still on fire, but my mind was beginning to quiet again.

“Come with me, Soma,” she said quietly, helping me to my feet and, with her arm around my shoulder and avoiding my lower body, she led me to the connecting door, which was unlocked. The next room was warm and comfortable, the opposite of the Hell I had just left.

“I ran a hot bath for you before I came in here. It should be about the right temperature for you. You’ll also find an enema bag in the bathroom. I would suggest you give yourself a deep cleansing at least twice, with warm water. You will still be hurting for a few days, but it will help speed your recovery. There’s a jar of Vitamin E ointment on the counter near the sink. Use that to ease the burning sensation. The refrigerator has several bottles of water. You should drink them. I’m afraid the first time you urinate is going to be painful, but I know you can handle it. After you’re clean, feel free to rest here as long as you need.”

“Thank you, Mrs. King. But your friend is a monster.”

A long pause. “I will say that she put you through quite an ordeal today, and I’m sorry you suffered so much at her hands. But she’s not a monster. She is a person with some very… refined tastes and is a researcher whose work would surprise you. Her stress relief requires her to shut down the normal channels of empathy and compassion, but she has more than you think of both. I know her quite well…in all her moods.

“Rest assured, Soma, you have done very well today, far better than I had hoped. You have made Mr. King and me proud and you have shown that you truly understand what it means to be the Pleasure Giver. Know that you are an extraordinary person. Take the next week off from coming here and give yourself time to process today’s experience. Then, the three of us shall have another conversation.”

As she headed toward the door, I said, “Thank you for the pep talk, Mrs. King, but, with respect, I hope I won’t be giving your friend pleasure any more. You have no idea what that cream felt like.”

“No,” she said, walking out the door, “not yet.”