Isn’t technology wonderful? There’s the I-pad, the smart phone and the bagless vacuum cleaner. To this great list of achievements, I have to add another: the electro dog collar. No, this isn’t some futuristic garb for a trendy vicar but a devious torture device for hapless victims. And I have one. And have used it on a cowering slave. In Sainsbury.
The collar is like any other – a leather strap with adjustable girth – except it is attached wirelessly to a control box that can deliver, at the press of a button a series of electronic messages to the wearer.
There are three settings I used a few days ago: one gives a kind of hum which is the order to get me a drink. Another, sends a buzz which signifies ‘get here fast’ and a third dishes out some delicious electro current designed to send spasms of pain to the wearer.
Call me a bit of a techno lover but I could wait to try this new toy out on a slave. I ordered him into my chamber of terrors and told him to drop his pants. He did so but not a fast as I wanted, so delivered an old-fashioned non-electro message across his face. Duly slapped and cheeks reddened, he hastened to lower his pants and present his cock and balls. If such they can be called. I told him I might need a magnifying glass to find said genitals. He whimpered something about being sorry but it was not said with sufficient contrition so I gave him another stinging clout round the ears.
Though the electro collar is designed for the neck, I decided it should go somewhere more effective. So I roughly fitted the device around his balls. He yelped but I didn’t punish him them – more of that later.
Then came a short training session: a hum means fetch me a cold drink and so on. I restrained myself for the third option – the pain surge because I wanted to save that delight for later. For somewhere more public. I wanted to see that slave squirm and writhe in agony but not here in my chambers but outside in the world where ordinary folk can point and laugh at him. What better place to try out my new collar than Sainsbury’s.
So duly fitted, my slave and I drove to the supermarket. He took his customary place not in the body of the car but among my shopping bags in the boot.
Once we got to our destination, my hands took hold of the evil controls – I was almost shaking in anticipation at what it was going to do to the slave. Anticipating pain and humiliation is a very important part of the dominatrix experience for me. And this was a humdinger. Or should I say ‘buzzdinger’. I marched ahead of the slave up to the doors of the shop and then chose the first setting. He soon got the electro message and came running, yes sprinting even, to join me at the entrance. Shoppers began to notice this rather strange-looking man who ran, breathless and nervous-looking to my side. ‘Next time,’ I thought with an evil grin, ‘I will train him that two hums means get on your knees like a puppy dog.’
We then did some shopping – of sorts. He followed me to the deli area and then I suddenly switched the setting to ‘get me a drink’. He had clearly forgotten what he was supposed to do, so I delivered the first painful shock to his goolies. It was hilarious to see this ordinary looking man suddenly yelp out loud and run off towards the takeaway section of the store. Other shoppers looked on with astonishment but went about their business. Slave came back with an apple juice and I finished my tasks. I kept striding ahead of the slave and switching on the command: ‘come here’ and he did with all speed. We played a kind of cat and mouse game around the aisles until I was ready for something a bit more serious.
As we approached the checkout, I set the dial to ‘high’ and sent a painful surge of electricity to his cock and balls. I had warned him not to scream out and he did as he was told but couldn’t help double up in pain. Other shoppers looked on with some curiosity but no one intervened. And it was clear that he was not in any prolonged pain.
By now I was really enjoying myself and subtly turned up the control knob to send ever-higher currents to his balls. I wanted to hear him scream. In a checkout space you can hear a scream. And boy did he let out a good one. I pretended not to be connected to him. The beauty of the wireless device is that I can be at the other side of the store. There he was paying (of course) for my groceries and suddenly crying out in pain and then all fine again. I think the checkout boy thought he was some escaped madman. I almost wet myself with giggling.
A few more jolts and we were back to the car. I strolled but he quick marched with my shopping in one hand, and his hand on his male valuables on the other. What a sight. What a great device. Technology rules.