She pauses to draw herself up, and then declaims: “Attend, sub-slut! You are no longer Timmy Hanson. From now on, you are Slut-boy number two thousand, one hundred and forty-five. You will promptly respond to that name, or number, or both, and to nothing else for the rest of your life. Now prepare yourself, Slut-boy 2145! The definitive experience of your new existence is upon you. I am going to butt f**k that impudent erection of yours into an appropriate oblivion!”
While I’m hopelessly grappling with all this madness, Mistress Hanson lays her hand on the crank that will spread the stirrups, and my bound legs, even further up and apart than they already are. But then my by now surely beloved Nurse Donovan suddenly intervenes, to my ecstatic relief.
“Is that really necessary just yet?” s
