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I am standing outside a door marked in Russian script ‘Julia Romanova’. I knock and a voice calls, “Come In!”
I am confronted by another girl. She about my age with a bush of curly hair (oh, to have unkempt hair again, just for the fun of teasing out the tugs and tangles in it). She looks up quickly and beams a broad welcoming smile. “Vyerochka! Welcome! Dr Medeleyev said you were coming. I have just made coffee. You will have some?”
You bet I will - and one of the croissants, if I’m allowed. Julia pours two mugs; hands me one and also offers – no, hands me - a croissant, unasked.
“Well. So you are Vyerochka?”
What should I say? “Yes, I know that’s what you all call me but actually I am Jenny.” I know that will get me another caning for disobedience. I feel that I had better play for safety. “Yes, I’m Vyerochka – in Russia” (so with just a little defiance dressed up as precision.)
“Aha … well I know your situation of course ….”
“You do?”
“Absolutely. Don’t look so surprised. Universities in the UK and US are always doing contract research for government or commercial interests, so don’t judge us too harshly for doing the same.”
“No, I wasn’t it’s, it’s … it’s all been … er … to end up here.”
“Hmmm, yes I suppose it must have been., “ She looks at me with something between sympathy and understanding and then brightens: “Still, now you are here and you will never go back so perhaps you had better make the best of it? And by the way, just as a bit of advice – you are Vyerochka everywhere.”
If this had come from Neena, I could have coped, but coming from this other girl, same age as me who seems to know all about my abduction and takes it all in her happy, breezy, stride … I start to weep but seem to run out of emotion. My tears dry up. I think about my “situation” and begin to feel calm inside. As if I had been given some sort of anaesthetic.
“Look, Vyerochka we have a lot to get through so shall we just start?”
So I start, launching into a description of the project much as I would if I was presenting it to one of Angela’s colleagues or to a group of undergraduate students.
“I have had the opportunity to conduct a longitudinal observational psychological investigation into the play behaviour of adults, specifically sexual play, specifically again BDSM fantasies and games, specifically again power exchange games between Dommes, Doms and subs.
“My sample contains 100 individuals. The parent sample was 120 and there have been 20 subjects lost to follow up, for various reasons. The sample was self selected.
I run through the details explaining how I had set the research up.
“The context is people who applied to spend one to two months following a consensual slave training programme at a commercial ‘adult adventure playground’ called Inward Bound.”
“The subjects are all asked to complete a questionnaire when they submit an application to join a course at Inward Bound and they all have a personal interview afterwards. This is standard practice. For my investigation, they were asked to accept further questionnaires and interviews during and after their ‘adventure’.
Julia is still sitting quietly watching me and listening. She doesn’t say anything but lets me continue, “Basic descriptive statistics were collected for all subjects such as
age, gender, sexual experience, sexual fantasies at base line. The sample was divided into two groups: one month adventures and two month adventures. The ratio was 2:1. Also there was a gender bias for both groups of 3:1 in favour of females.”
There’s plenty more and once I start, I find it hard to stop.
“I collected the same data from two reference populations so I could compare the Inward Bound Adventurers with their peers. The first group was volunteers from University sports clubs. They were matched for age, gender, social class, academic achievement, sexual experience, sexual fantasies. I thought people might be reluctant to talk but they were very open and BDSM fantasies are really quite common, “The second group was drawn from contributors to a BDSM Consensual Slavery Message Board based in the UK. The Board Administrator gave permission for me to email contributors and the first email came from his “admin” address.
Julia’s attention seems to be wandering and I guess that I have not told her anything that she doesn’t already know or hadn’t already guessed.
I conclude by summarising the research questions:
Do the IWB adventurers change during their stay?
“The questionnaires after the ‘adventurers’ returned home were designed to see if changes in their outlook were maintained and if their home life changed.
“I had not managed to start on the detailed analysis before … before …”
Julia sees me hesitate and is watching me more closely as I carry on. I take a deep breath.
“... before I came here. However, my impression is that IWB subjects are a little more extrovert and have more BDSM experience, and BDSM fantasies than the “university” reference population, but were very similar to the people contributing to the Consensual Slavery Message Board. It seemed that subjects became more confident with their fantasies during their Inward Bound Experience; subjects were more likely to push at their boundaries and try to achieve more, so to speak, the longer their IWB adventure went on and that both these last effects were more pronounced in the subjects who had the Two Month Adventure.
“From that I draw the implication: people who are likely to enjoy BDSM experiences can be detected by questionnaire and the questionnaire answers predict which people are prepared to actualize their fantasies and when they are given the opportunity. Furthermore, they are likely to modify their behaviour, to do things they would not have done before.”
I stop. My coffee is cold. I have been all of the talking. Julia goes to make some more.
“So what do you need to do now?” she calls over her shoulder. “I mean that seems well thought through.”
It’s just the sort of thing someone might say back home. I feel absurdly relaxed. “Well, really it’s just the stats analysis to see if my superficial impressions of what the data says are actually correct.”
“Well, Vyerochka, here is some good news for you.” Julia puts another cup of coffee down in front of me. “The data has been entered into a statistics progamme for you – SPSS for Windows.
Are you familiar with that?
“Yes, that was the programme I had intended to use. I met Dr Mendeleyev recently who told me the data was now in SPSS and I had a first look at it. At home though, I would have been able to speak with a statistician, but here ……”
“Vyerochka: this is your home and yes I agree. Statisticians are very helpful. I should know because I am one! I will be able to guide your thinking. I heard that you had quite a busy day, recently?’
She smirks at me. So there I am, humiliated once more and advised, in passing, of just how fully informed Julia must be about ‘my situation’, as she put it earlier. From somewhere a spark of non-compliance flares: I feel myself narrow one eye and slightly turn my head as if to say ‘thank you but that was not necessary!’
Julia just laughs in reply and – and I giggle in reply to her, the tension broken
There is another problem, though. “And what about the psychology? I was working for an expert until ….”
“We can support you there too. Contacts …..”
Contacts ….. Does that mean Angela? Surely she would recognize the data at once if someone sent it to her, or realize that the study data was being analysed somewhere else if an unknown person emailed particular questions to her? Could I use this to send her a message? Ask the sort of questions that I used to ask her? Or ask questions in the way I used to ask her? That would be safer, in case she is involved with them… A little fountain of hope is beginning to well up inside me until it is quashed by Julia who continues ……
“Dr Mendeleyev has spent an academic lifetime in psychological research and I believe he may even know your former supervisor”
Julia stresses former and I realize that, as ever, they are one step ahead of me. All avenues of escape indentified and closed before ever I knew they were there.
Julia continues, “It’s probably best for you to continue working at Dacha Kustensky ….”
Dacha: a country house in Russia. Kustensky: is that the place or is it the name of my Owner? Excuse me! The person who thinks they own me. Excuse me? No - I am going to have to give this up. They do own me. I suppose they always will, until I am disposed of …..
“Vyerochka! Are you listening?”
No, I was not listening. I was gazing out of the window, across the roofs of an alien city, wondering which direction is west. The west. Where I came from. Once.
“I’m sorry Gaspazha”
Julia smiles, as if to tell me that she knows exactly what my daydreams were. She carries on. “This whole thing is very interesting. A new meson production method ….”
“Forgive me Gaspazha, I’m lost.”
“Yes, you are. Be grateful you have now been found. My boyfriend ….
(A boyfriend! Oh, to have a boyfriend again. A boyfriend like Joe …)
…. works in the high energy physics lab. Mesons are sub-atomic particles. In his lab they have a proton-proton scattering device, which produces mesons after the interactions between atomic nuclei – which are all very energetic. Now you would think, that to get people to do what your subjects have been doing, you would need lots and lots of psychological energy, but you don’t, do you? Just create the right conditions and your subjects changed. They became their true selves. It’s all really quite gentle. Not what you would expect from a ‘slave training programme’? Hmmm?”
Julia continues: “So what are you actually going to do for the analysis?”
“First, I will tabulate the frequency responses for every variable. Then I will compare the results for the two groups at the various time points during their adventures and look for differences greater that ten percent and test for statistical significance to see if they are too large to be random chance variations.”
“And the direction of changes?”
“I want to map the direction of any changes to see if then the changes seem to run in a particular direction. A tide running in favour of clients becoming “more kinky” so to speak. Next, I will look at the responses from individuals to explore the variations they experience. I will look to see if they seem to run in a particular direction, too, or if they merely eddy backwards and forwards. Then finally, I aim to build a statistical model to see if it is possible to predict changes in an individual’s outlook on the basis of their original questionnaire responses.”
“Well, Vyerochka, it seems to me that you are going to have your work cut out!” It’s not clear if Julia is impressed by the plan or if she thinks I am mad to attempt it. Whichever it is she has obviously been asked to make sure I see it through so she doesn’t waste time on praise or skeptical comment. “Here is how we should tackle it. Coming up here every day is not practical, because it would waste too much time and in any case, you need close supervision at the moment ….”
“But surely I should be here with you for that? Although I’m used to doing research independently you know.” I’m offended that she thinks I need her to keep an eye on my work. Even Angela lets me work pretty much on my own.
Julia laughs and points to my collar, “Vyerochka! I mean behavioural supervision, not academic supervision.” I’m embarrassed now by my naive comment. How could I think that the academic issues were more important than my Owner’s worries that I might try to run away or send desperate emails asking for rescue! “I think you will agree, that you are still settling into your new position in life. To be precise, getting used to being an owned slave.” I nod in recognition of my stupidity. “So you will work at the Dacha, and keep in touch with me by email and web-conference – we have got Skype, for example.”
So this bouncy, bright, happy young girl of my own age who offers me coffee and croissants, is totally at ease with my status as an owned slave, and happy to do what she can, to keep me enslaved. How disappointing!
“Yes, I understand” I reply weakly. I can see she is quite right of course. Travelling up would take quite a lot out of each day. They would have to let me live like a normal human being. So I just agree but inside, deep inside I’m angry and despairing both at once. I have been defeated again. I thought reasonably frequent trips up to Moscow would be stimulating. Help me keep contact with “normal” people. A change to make proper friends. Perhaps people who could spark a rescue for me. As ever, this has been anticipated. Once more; gently, firmly, and implacably; escape has been removed from my grasp ….
“So, Vyerochka. This has been very useful time and now its time to get you back, out of the way of temptation! I’ll let Neena know we are finished.”
She picks up her office phone and calls Neena from wherever she was. ‘Back out of temptation’s way.’ I must be totally transparent to them …
I’m back in my cell at the Dacha.
My clothes have been taken away from me.
I have been fed and I have got washed, cleaned my teeth – they call it “your daily maintenance” as if I was some sort of tractor.
Suddenly, the cell door opens. Neena is standing there.
She beckons me to turn round and handcuffs my wrists behind me. She clips a thick leather lead to the ring in my collar, as though I was some sort of dangerous wild animal. Then, holding the lead tight, gripping it close to my neck, she leans forward and plants her tongue deep in my ear. It is unexpected; wet and tickly. A deep inside tickly. A very sexy tickly. Suddenly I am aroused inside. Of course it needs hardly anything to trigger arousal in me these days but even so, Neena’s actions pick things up more than usual. I can feel my heart starting to beat faster. I am led out of my cell and down to the punishment room. Neena picks up a broad leather paddle and winks: She reaches down and pats the front of my chastity belt. I can feel her tap and her tap further heightens my sense of sexual anticipation - but there is no physicaI relief, yet I still twitch in response.
“Punishment is always good for slaves,” Neena says in a measured tone, “especially when it comes with some sexual service” she smiles slowly, as if sharing a confidence before leading me out from the punishment room and on upstairs …….
We are in her bedroom. It’s part of a small suite. I suppose there must be a bathroom, a sitting room and her bedroom. Small is relative. The suite is far larger than the upstairs of my own house – my own house? I probably mean the house I once lived in, and it seems such a long time ago now.
She unclips my lead and motions me to kneel on the floor.
She inclines her head: I start to kiss her shoes, the tops of her feet, her ankles. She steps out of her shoes. One after the other, I take careful hold of them between my teeth and carry them over to the door, where I stand them side by side. I scamper back and begin to kiss her toes. Beneath her tights I find her toe ring and her ankle bracelet as I move my lips to her ankle. She lifts her foot to allow me access to her soles. I gently rub my lips against them; kiss them; enjoy their leathery warmth.
She carefully, slowly strips her clothes off: I watch her hungrily. Blouse. Skirt. She pauses.
My lips travel slowly up her legs, around her knees, up her thighs and across her crotch. I pout my lips and rub. Rub slowly, firmly across her mound. I can feel her labia through her pants. She is hot, musky, moist. She purrs.
Her bra comes off and her breasts swing free. Small, beautifully formed, nipples erect
She looks down at me: “tonight you are here to pleasure me; that will be your new task. Its time we taught you to serve us more intimately.” She raises one eyebrow and smiles once more.
I feel a rush of desire. A desire to be used. It feeds on the constant feelings of sexual arousal which have been with me for so, so, long now. It’s a dam weakening, beginning to crumble, ready to let the waters of sexual passion surge out.
“Spaseeba Gaspazha!”
Her smile becomes a laugh. She knows I am sinking into uncontrolled desire - to serve, to belong, no going back, no wish to go back, to be owned, used, disciplined, to be fully their’s. Always the unscratchable sexual itch, prodding me forward, deeper into slavery.
“Take off my tights,” Neena says, “with your teeth.”
I kneel up and gently take the waist band in my teeth and pull. First left side, then right side. Then above her right buttock, then her left. Then at the front of her, to the right and to the left. My shoulder rubs her mound. It was warm; now it’s wet, through her knickers – actually a deep pink silky G string. I think of her wetness as I tease her tights and string down. I anticipate my attack on her body. She will soon be naked in front of me. She shudders once more, her desire building. I begin to tantalize her through her silky string, my tongue slipping across her labia, beginning my exploration of her secret folds, finding her clit, tasteing her.
As I strip her, pale, tanned, creamy, skin emerges, stretched over toned, defined muscles. Her tights are now in a puddle around her ankles. I have to sweep up a mouth full with my tongue before I can remove them from her feet, her beautiful feet. Her toe nails are perfectly shaped. Painted a bright pink. My lips and tongue trace paths across and around. Across the dorsum. Between her toes. Around her ankle. Across her soles. Gee, this girl smells so good! I begin to ascend up her claves, to circle her knees, across her thighs. I have reached her crotch. I pause and look up into her eyes. I am now a wild dangerous animal, drooling, ready to devour her.
She smiles down at her plaything. “Go on,” is all she says and releases my hands from the cuffs …..
My tongue begins to explore more thoroughly. She is shaven. I can feel the little bumps of her hair follicles, but across the top of her mound is a crest of blond pubic hair. Carefully I trace her lips. Left and right. Bottom to top. Outer surface and inner recess. I can revel in her wetness now. I can taste her properly.
The dam bursts! I grasp her thighs and draw her towards me. My mouth is clamped on her. My tongue rasps up and down. I catch her labia with my tongue stud . I move it forward and back, forward and back. She writhes but this time it is she who cannot escape. All my exertions in the gymnasium begin to find an application. She is my prisoner now. She is squealing and my tongue is rubbing. She is gasping and crying and my lips are sucking. She is trembling and convulsing: I will not let her go until I make her come. Uncontrollably, desperately come. I will torture her to ecstasy!
She is limp and trembling. We are now both on the floor, entwined like snakes and in each other’s arms. Gently, I gather up her mucous with my tongue and swallow her, savour her. She moves, smiles, takes my head in her arms. Our mouths meet and our tongues find one another. She tastes me.
“Vyerochka! Oh Vyerochka! I am going to spank you – as your reward. To make you hot again for me. Would you like that?”
“It’s not for me to say Gaspazha, but as a matter of fact, yes I should like that very much!”
In a flash I have turned towards her, forehead on the floor, buttocks in the air, to enjoy her paddle as it licks across my skin leaving its hot red prickly burning kiss! A reward for services rendered and the reddening of my buttocks is a match to start another conflagration of sexual passion.
Whilst Neena and Vyera are locked in a passionate embrace, Dr Mendeleyev receives a telephone call:
“Igor Ivanovitch?”
“Da, Anatoly Sergeyevitch. How are you? I was expecting you to call.”
“Ah ha. You have something to tell me?”
“The girl’s project or the girl herself?”
“Both, actually. Lets start with the girl.”
“Vyera?”
“Vyera …”
“She is doing well. I expect you have regular reports from Neena?”
“Neena is a soldier, so she is interested mainly in compliance. You are interested in the mind so you will have formed a more far reaching impression?”
“Anatoly Sergeyevech, these are early days but the girl is coping well with all she is having to come to terms with. It seems she is not only compliant but is less anxious about being compliant. She is sleeping better and no longer sleep talks about her husband. The pharmaceuticals she is being given are making her memories less painful. She can accept some gentle teasing about her enslavement and even make an appropriate (yet perhaps mildly defiant) response. She can still socialize properly and her intellectual capacity is un-damaged. Julia Romanova was very impressed with Vyera’s account of her work and how she proposes to carry out the analysis of data. I spoke at length to Neena during and to Julia after Vyera’s visit to MSU (2) today. Vyera has had to grapple with a very significant burden but … so far … she is managing well and adapting to it.
Her old life was more congenial that her new one: she had an absorbing job at work, a very satisfactory … well, that’s not quite right. She had a good relationship with her husband and ambitions to build it into an even better one. That is a contrast to many of your other recruits whose new circumstances - eventually – are better that those they leave behind. Thus Vyera is a much more demanding and taxing project.
She is a very intelligent girl of course, but her intelligence can be harnessed to the cause, so to speak. I believe the time has come to lift her eyes from merely being compliant, to embrace the idea that she is mastering herself so that she can serve others. That in due time, she will have a position of responsibility once more. That she is serving to lead, as it were.”
“Responsibility?”
“Yes: she should be given responsibility. Of course, she has that in small measure already. She is given a task – let’s say cleaning - and she is responsible for the correct and thorough execution of the task and she knows that a poor performance will come at the cost of punishment. However, Vyera is an intelligent and creative person: soon she will need to move on and take responsibility for a more extensive area. After all, we are expecting her to complete a challenging intellectual project, to the standard of a doctoral thesis. We cannot expect her to function at a high level academically are revert to being an automaton in other areas of life?”
“No, indeed not. You will remember the burdens Sveta Nikitechna carries ….”
“Yes, of course.”
“I was hoping this girl could in some way …”
“I know: be part of a healing process. Guilt and shame cannot be eradicated easily but this could be a step. As I said, it is early days but I can say you have chosen well, Anatoly Sergeyevitch. Vyera has a kind and generous spirit. A far as I can tell, she still has both of these qualities. It is what you need in this situation.”
“Ah ha. Have you discussed developments in Vyera’s training with Neena?”
“Only in outline. I wanted to have this conversation with you first but I imagine you are …”
“Happy to go forward? Yes. Please do. What did you have in mind?”
“Academics engage in both research and teaching. Vyera has taught undergraduate students herself. I am sure you will have some other projects in planning or even in execution which might allow her to begin to teach others once more …”
“Ah … I see. You mean have her take some part in training other er, recruits?”
“Exactly. Not yet but in due course. When she has had some more experience. With the right recruit”
“Well done, Igor Ivanovitch! I knew your advice would be helpful!”
“It’s a pleasure, Anatoly Sergeyevitch. It reminds me of the old days!”
……………………………………………………………………………………………………
Footnotes:
1. Safe Words. A word or phrase used in a BDSM scene by one of the players to stop the action in case of fear, anxiety or pain in excess of what they were expecting or were able to cope with.
2. MSU. Moscow State University is known colloquially as ‘MSU’ to Muscovites
© Freddie Clegg & Phil Lane 2011
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