Once I had emptied my bladder, a full measurement session took place. Keith was nowhere to be seen. They had woken him, as he had expressed a desire to be present at all measurement sessions, but he had changed his mind when faced with the reality of six-thirty a.m.
I had breakfast with Keith at about 8:30, and then there was a half-hour break before a period of gentle exercise. First I had to do a set of exercises to test my body's flexibility: bending, stretching, the splits, leg raises, and so on. I was pretty good; I had done some ballet in my childhood and early teens. My flexibility was carefully measured. I was told that this would be compared with my flexibility whilst wearing the belt to ensure that there was no loss, no restriction of movement was permitted by the Ice Man.
Then I had to use an exercise bicycle. They measured my heart-rate and breathing rate as I rode, and they told me to go faster or slower so as to maintain a steady 120 beats per minute for about 20 minutes. This was immediately followed by another measurement session. Again, there were certain places that they went to first as the fit here was known to be dependent on recent exercise. There was another purpose: one of the places they measured first was the clench detection point. With recent exercise there is absolutely no arousal, and so a proper flaccid measurement of the clench point could be made. I was asked to clench as hard as I could so that the spike operation could be adjusted to accommodate this in full without my suffering pain.
There was a further interview session, then. "There is a small discrepancy between the results of your two interviews that needs to be cleared up. Keith has stated that the rear entrance should not be protected; Miranda has said that this should be protected. As you know, in such cases thin stainless steel wires are stretched across the orifice. It prevents even a finger from accessing it, but cuts the faeces like a cheese-wire as it emerges. It does require the frequent use of the bidet for cleanliness which may prove difficult if you often use a public lavatory. Miranda?"
I said: "I don't like it in the rear. We tried once because he wanted it, but I didn't like it so we never did it again."
Keith said: "I never force her to do anything she does not want. It is merely an issue of hygiene and convenience in public places. She does not have access to a bidet at her place of work."
"Do you feel that you need protection from Keith or somebody else, perhaps? Do you need to stop your own finger penetrating there? What is the reason for wanting that point closed?"
I had used this point for masturbation when wearing the no contact belt that I had used before, but I had never told Keith about this for fear that he would want to play with me there. Then I remembered the pain that would be deterring orgasm for me. "I guess I don't actually need protection; I just didn't want the lack to be interpreted as permission for access there."
"If you change your mind later, the protection can easily be fitted."
Then I was allowed to rest for an hour before another set of measurements was made. Then I had to do vigorous exercise. This was a vigorous sprint on the exercise bicycle until the heart-rate hit 180 and held there for a minute. Another set of measurements was made immediately and then it was lunch-time.
The afternoon was spent in the same way. Each set of measurements was made twice as a cross-check. Finally, after dinner, a second 'full belly' set of measurements was made, and I eventually went to bed exhausted. There would be one further set of measurements first thing in the morning, and that, barring problems with fitting, was the measurement process done.
Day 2: Night-time and fantasies
Again I had orders to masturbate that night, preferably three times. I found it easier to think about, now, remembering how it had been before I had identified denial as a need, remembering some of the fantasies I had used to get myself off. One of my early fantasies was that I was captured and abducted into a secret cave owned by a really horrible man. He kept me there and had sex with me whenever he wanted but he would never let me masturbate or have any orgasms otherwise. I hated him, I hated being there and I hated to let him have sex with me but I also looked forward to it as my only means of ever getting orgasm. I remembered how I used to imagine his smelly breath and drooling disgusting mouth as he lay over me, his great fat belly crushing me, his actions making me climax.
As I remembered this fantasy, I realised for the first time that this man had a strange resemblance to the priest in our parish when I was a child, and that the cave had had a surprising resemblance to the vestry where I would change into my cassock and surplice for serving at Holy Mass. I remembered how he used to bless us both before the service: we would each kneel between his parted thighs, head bowed forward, and he would place his hand on our heads pressing down as he said the prayer. I remember pressing up against his hand, not wanting to feel my forehead pressing against his trousers and crotch. I remembered vividly the rank unwashed public lavatory smell coming through his cassock from his trousers.
Now, as I had this fantasy, I tried first to put Keith's face into this role, but this did not work at all. Then I thought about The Inaccessible Man. I imagined him locking me into one of his 'total denial' appliances and keeping me here as a kitchen slave. I imagined the level of frustration I would reach, as he only ever let me out of the chastity-belt at rare intervals to fuck me. He would fuck me hard and fast before I had a chance to become properly aroused. His climax would always come when I was still just short of climax myself and then he would immediately lock me up in his total denial appliance again. He would never let me climax. I imagined the terrible conflict between wanting to climax and hating letting him fuck me; of knowing that this would be my only chance, and so inviting him to, asking him, begging him to fuck me. So often he would say: "no, not today, it is much too soon after the last time". So often he would just laugh at my frustration. I imagined my terrible disappointment when, having begged and pleaded for weeks, having submitted once more to his hateful fucking, I failed yet again to climax, and was locked into the total denial appliance once more. I found it surprisingly easy to come. I didn't even have to think about being beaten for doing it.
I dozed for a bit.
When I woke up, I started thinking about another fantasy that I used to have. In this fantasy I had a girl-friend of the same age as me. We were very close. We would hold hands and kiss, we would tell each other all our secrets and we would do everything together. Soon we began to look at each other 'down there' and we began to touch one another: lightly, gently, innocently. We would lie naked together in bed, and I remembered feeling her soft, warm, downy flesh against mine. I would gently rub my thigh across her belly, she would softly stroke my back with her arm. Each day we would progress a little further, each knowing what the other wanted, but respecting each others secret places and the things we were not yet ready for.
Before long, we would start to become sexually aroused, not by direct stimulation of the sexes but simply from the intense pleasure of being together. We would kiss and hug, in a warm intensity of desire for the unknown. We were just getting to the point when we both felt an intense need for something more direct when we were caught. Big strong hands pulled us roughly apart. We were lectured that such things were evil and harmful. We were beaten for our wickedness. We were separated and ordered never to do such things again. We saw each other each day, at a distance, but were never allowed to communicate. I kept wondering what it would have been like, how we would have progressed in our sex with each other, imagining our thighs rubbing each other's pussies as we lay in a kissy tangle of warm, silky limbs. I imagined that we were in bed together just at the point of coming to a glorious mutual climax when we were torn apart, shouted at and beaten for our sins. It was this thought that brought on my climax.
Perhaps I slept for a while.
Later, I remembered another fantasy that I used to have when I first started to masturbate and was very disturbed by the conflict between this need and the religious beliefs that I had been brought up with.
In this fantasy, I was child at that age when sexual need first starts to become strong. I was carefully watched and secretly spied on to detect any lapse in my perfect moral behaviour. I could never ever relax my guard for fear of being caught. I never did anything suspiciously sexual although I recognised a terrible need within me. Soon I was being questioned about my sexual needs: Did I think about certain things? Did I ever want to feel certain feelings? This made me aroused, but I rigorously suppressed it and hid my need.
When I showed no sign of any lapse from perfect moral behaviour, the physical examinations started. The excuse was to check that I was still intact, a virgin. I was told that just by looking at my secret parts they could tell if I had been doing anything improper. Again, I made sure that I never did anything suspicious although my desire to do so became ever stronger. They would wake me from sleep to examine me, or just as I was fresh from my bath. Many times a day I would be checked for purity.
Next the tests started: during an examination, I would be deliberately stimulated into a state of arousal and then, when I was close to climax, it would stop and I would be left on my own. Even during the tests I remained perfectly controlled and permitted no outward sign of any response to the manipulations, although inside I was in a frenzy of desire. Afterwards, I knew that I was being secretly spied on for any sign of immoral behaviour, and I felt turmoil of intense need inside, but outwardly, I hid the least shred of evidence of this; I remained calm, apparently perfect, modest, chaste and virginal in every way. Each time, the test would last longer and finish with me closer to climax, and I would have to try harder and harder not to give way to my overwhelming desire, not to show anything that could be criticised, not to give way to their manipulations. At each test I would fight the strong feelings and need to orgasm, struggling to suppress my sexuality, and to suppress any outward sign of its existence.
Eventually, fearful of actually climaxing during the test, I started to beg them to have the offending parts surgically removed to save me from this awful disgrace. And it was this thought that brought me to climax: that a girl could in this way become so offended and alienated from her sexuality that she begs for it to be surgically removed; that did it for me.
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