CHAPTER FOUR

MADAME SPEAKS AGAIN

After about of week of observing the things they were doing to
this man, I asked to see Madame Diane again. Above all, I wanted to
know why they did certain things.

Q. What is the purpose of all this?

A. I get paid $20,000 for a subject plus $5,000 per week. He
has to be attractive, well-built, and, above all, obedient.

Q. But how does this all make him obedient? The one I've been
observing seems to be resentful, if anything.

A. He is still in the early stages. First we initiate him, that
was the apartment. They come to think of it as a doorway and actually
hope to go back there. That's why we have them here where the police
don't bother us. They actually thing it's some sort of summer home
that belongs to one of the girls.

Q. What about the woman in military garb?

A. He will eventually think of him as his mother, the one who
takes care of him. You see, part of this is also to reduce them to
the
same mind set they had when they were twelve. Some we have to take
all
the way back to toilet training, but not this one.

Q. Why not?

A. This one is specially commissioned by someone who like a bit
of resentment and independence. It's really quite a delicate job.

Q. What about the one in leather?

A. She is punishment. He will learn to do anything she
commands
-- that is part of our brainwashing.

Q. What about the cameras?

A. Insurance, and extra profits. He knows about them, so we
can
blackmail him. At the same time, we rent the videos for parties of
professional women.

Q. Isn't this all a bit cruel?

A. He isn't a human being to me, he is just another subject who
will bring a profit if properly trained.

Q. Trained for what?

A. All of my products are capable of acting a variety of roles.
They can endure, obey, be women, captive slaves, horses, dogs,
gladiators, etc.

Q. Gladiators?

A. Right. You know how popular professional wrestling is? Did
you know that most of the audience is women? And they know it is
fake.
Think of how much they would pay if it were real, but with real rules
to prevent permanent damage which would, of course, reduce the value
of
the men. Of course, the pain and the sweat are real, as is the
humiliation.

Q. Humiliation?

A. Right, humiliation is one of our chief weapons. They must
know that they are totally in our hands, that they have no control
over
their fate, that we are their total masters.

Q. How do you train for gladiators?

A. He begins that training tomorrow. Why not observe?

CHAPTER FIVE

COMBAT AND PAIN

"In the combat training, the most important thing we teach them
is
that the penalty for loosing is very great. Too many of them will
simply suffer defeat, let themselves be pinned, rather than suffer
further. They have to think that defeat is the worst that can happen
to them, and the only way we can do that is by showing them what
happens if they loose. But first they have to lose, and that is what
this session is about."

Madame Diane was obviously excited about this phase of the
training and quite talkative about it. "One of the most glorious and
sexy sights is two men fighting for the pleasure of on looking women,"
she said, and continued to talk until she was called away and I was
left alone to watch.

I was near ringside. The ring was much like a boxing ring, only
this one was surrounded by women, all of them quite expectant of what
would come next. I saw the captive brought in -- he had his hands
lied
behind him and was wearing a robe. Underneath he was wearing sturdy
but scant trunks. "That's so they can take punishment, but only so
much," said Kathy who sat down besides me. "Diane asked me to answer
your questions."

In came the opponent, a large, ugly man, who looked like a
Russian
weightlifter, wearing blue jeans and a sweatshirt. "That's Ivan, the
one who breaks in the new men. Remember, they have to learn the agony
of defeat," Kathy laughed.

The bell rang and Ivan came out slowly, smiling. Danny, I
learned
his name was, still had his robe on, but the referee, the girl in the
leather, stopped the bout to remove it, much to the delight of the
spectators. Danny was well-muscled, even more so as a result of his
week in captivity, but clearly was no match for the experienced and
heavier Ivan.

Ivan slowly cut off the ring and Danny moved to avoid him. Then
Ivan got hold of his arm and put Danny in an armlock and began to
apply
pressure. I could see the pain on his face. As he seemed about to
drop, Ivan turned him around, picked him up, and threw him to the
canvas. The spectators screamed with delight. Danny got up and was
rewarded by a full-nelson. The pain must have been terrible.
Somehow,
Danny slipped out. Ivan charged in anger, and Danny managed to flip
him over, showing that he had wrestled somewhere before. He dove to
pin Ivan, but the referee reached for a cattle prod and stung Danny
who
moved away.

Now Ivan was angry. He grabbed Danny by the hair and threw him
against the ropes, slapping him as he bounced off. Danny slumped to
his knees. Ivan pulled him up by his hair and got him in a backwards
bear-hug as Danny kicked and waved his arms. The girls screamed and
shouted "Pull them off," and Ivan did.

Ivan was not finished yet however. He tied Danny's arms in the
ropes and punched him in the gut over and over again. He stretched
his
legs apart and then chocked him. I must admit that even I was
becoming aroused at this sight, a handsome, muscular man, writhing in
agony, sweating and straining, in the nude, right in front of me.
"Now
you should see the punishment," Kathy said, as she gave a signal to
the one in leather. Ivan finished off Danny with a few kicks and then
pinned him.

At another signal, Danny was tied to the floor. "Now we begin
the
teaching part. Notice all these women here? They've paid $50 a
ticket
for this and unless the man puts up a good fight, they expect some
real
punishment. He did O.K., considering, but he still must learn."

A woman dressed as a nurse came into the ring and pulled out a
hypodermic and injected it into his arm. "This will give him great
pain and agony," Kathy said and she was right. Danny began to squirm
and twist on the canvass, almost in spasms and then began to cry out.
The one in leather pulled out a whip at this and began to swing away.
This lasted for about five glorious minutes and then silence.

Slowly, the one in leather removed his trunks, as all looked
almost in reverence. The drug also had the effect of producing a
tall,
stiff erection. It stood out in the center of Danny, in the center of
the canvass, pulsing as Danny still quivered. I wanted to feel it
within myself, but the drawing started. After the winning number was
called, a woman got up, pulled up her dress, and sat on it, and rose,
and sat, and rose, until she came. Then came others.

Still it stood up, with us all looking in wonder. The one with
leather pulled out a knife and moved toward it. All were silent as
she
moved the knife along it. Danny looked in terror. She moved her arm
back and started to swing forward and Danny passed out.

"Perfect timing," said Kathy, "He'll remember that!"
Danny was carried out on a stretcher as the women watched, somewhat
reverent, but spent, and completely satisfied.

CHAPTER SIX

ON DISPLAY

The next technique I witnesses was designed to strip the subject
of all self-dignity, to remove all vestiges of modesty. The guy was
strapped, fully, but deceptively, clothed, on a rack similar to the
one in the gym. This time, however, he was at full strength and
awareness, and was beyond a short fence about fifteen feet away from
where the women would walk by. It was sort of a game. The women
would pay $5 to pull a lever which was attached to a slot machine and
three lemons would cause one piece of his clothing to be removed.

At first the action was slow, but it was only noon and the booth
had been open for only about half and hour. Slowly, however, parts of
his clothing began to disappear. First his shoes and socks, which
were
presented to the winner. Next, the shirt and slacks, and I could see
his muscles straining at the bonds, but to no avail. After hours, his
undershirt and then he was left only in a swim suit. The next winner
left him in only a posing suit, and then the action stepped up, and so
did the shouting. The next winner left him with a strange looking
suit
--the front looked like a posing suit, but the rear was cut so that
his
solid, firm buttocks were on display. His face turned red as play was
stopped.

The women stared, looked, shouted, made suggestions, for about an
hour. Then play resumed, and the next winner left him with just a
posing strap.

A new woman, wearing a flowing white gown, came in. She pulled
another lever and the wheel moved down and toward the crowd. His
bonds
shifted so that he lay at attention on his back. He was surrounded by
the women who could look but not touch, talk but not do.

He was thus left on display for ten hours as hundreds of women of
all types walked by and stared, each making their own comment on all
aspects of him. This had two effects: First, it was to thoroughly
degrade him to think of himself as perpetually naked before woman.
Second, it would raise the bidding for the final piece of cloth.

The angel in white pulled the lever again, and he was returned to
his original position on the rack. The winner got to remove the strap
personally and then wires were attached to various parts of his body.
The slot machine began to whirl again, and each win sent a shock of
varying intensity to an appropriate part of the body. This continued
for another five hours, and I could see that he was fully exhausted
and
broken, whimpering and trembling, with the hint of tears from his
eyes.

I didn't know if I should contribute to this sadism by being
here,
or if I should let myself go and try to get him for myself. I found
the
instinct in me driving me to try the slot-machine and I finally did.
As I looked back, it was pretty sick, but at the time, I couldn't help
myself, so carried away I was with the chance to be the dominant one.
I pulled the lever and got the triple lemons, and the result was
horrible and wonderful. Every muscle in his body stood out as if he
was a human anatomy chart! The pain and strain must have been
immense,
but all I could think about was what a wonderful creation he was.
Those muscles called from my soul all the strongest drives I had
hidden
behind my professional demeanor.

Then, he was left there to rest, but still on display. "You'll
get a chance at him later, if you want," Kathy said, "but now he has
to
stay like that until he thinks of it as his natural condition. That
way, Madame Diane can take him to his next step, and I know you'll
want
to see that."