The Chastised Slave of New Mecca
Copyright© 2026 by Vanquished One
Chapter 2
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 2 - I never thought I would see the splendor of New Mecca as not only was it deep in the heart of the Arabian Desert but off limits to infidels. So it came as a shock to find myself trafficked there to be a slave. The city was full of slaves and beautiful women that would be forbidden to me. Thus to save me from castration, my penis had to be securely locked by my firm-handed Arabian master. But with so many beauties to temp me, was it a mercy or a torture?
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Ma/Ma Coercion Consensual NonConsensual Slavery BiSexual Heterosexual Fiction Science Fiction BDSM DomSub MaleDom FemaleDom Humiliation Sadistic Torture Harem Interracial White Male Oriental Female Anal Sex Massage Masturbation Oral Sex Pegging Sex Toys Water Sports Size
The detention facility orderly checked that I was firmly strapped into the medical chair. He had splayed my legs far apart in a pair stirrups such that my genitals hung vulgarly between my spread legs. He gazed at them and chuckled at my predicament—naked and strapped to a gynecological chair. He said nothing as he knew better than to fraternize with a facility inmate and simply left the room.
I pulled at the restraints but only managed to squirm and writhe—it was hopeless. With my genitals so exposed I had to worry about what they had scheduled for me; I just hoped that they wouldn’t torture me and that this was only for inspection purposes.
As I waited I relaxed into the chair, but my sense of dread heightened as time went by. I gazed around the room and the first thing that struck me about it was how sterile it looked and smelt; it had spartan furnishings including a stainless-steel bench and fixed to the wall right in front of me was a large television. I could even make out my vulgar reflection on its smooth black surface.
I was almost dozing off when the sound of high-heels tipped me off that a woman was approaching. The door opened and she strode in dressed head to toe in a hazmat suit as if I was infected with some kind of disease. Mercifully, she didn’t don a mask so I could see what a strikingly beautiful face she had, yet the cold steeliness of her gaze struck me as menacing and I recoiled.
She inspected me strapped into the gynecological chair, naked and with my legs splayed apart. I felt so intensely exposed and vulnerable having her look over me. She fixed her gaze on my genitals. “Don’t worry that I’m a woman—I’m a lesbian.”
“Oh-no, she’s a man-hater,” I thought.
She looked over the tablet. “So you are the specimen from cell 313, so for simplicity I’ll call you 3-1-3 for the duration of this orientation session—”
“Orientation!” I thought, “What could that be?” All I knew was that I had been christened “3-1-3.”
I watched her pull on a pair of latex gloves and give me a devious grin. “You don’t need to know my name.”
My penis flicked and throbbed when the lady sterilized it with a disinfectant wipe. The mild enjoyment was short lived when she took out a long needle and sat between my legs.
“Don’t look if you prefer,” she said as she leaned in close to my presented genitals. I took her advice and looked away but it did little to alleviate the wheeziness I felt from the painful sensation of the needle forcing its way through the flesh of my penis. I really had no power whatsoever—she could do whatever she wanted and I was powerless to stop her. The feeling of hopelessness was palpable.
Through my watering eyes I gazed down at a ring going in through my urethra and out through the underside of my penis. It was painful but I was thankful for the lady’s dexterity as the procedure seemed to have gone smoothly, and I had to admit I kinda like the way it looked.
But the penile ring wasn’t to be my only new adornment as the lady brought something else matte and plastic in the shape of a small penis. I looked on in stunned silence as she slipped it over my penis; it contained my limp penis tightly within its unyielding walls; it would surely snuff out any erection.
The ring fed out through an narrow opening at the end which I assumed I would also have to pee out of. She then secured it in place with a small padlock through my penile ring. She tugged at the penis-shaped sheath but the padlock prevented it from sliding off.
“That looks like a snug fit,” she said but my penis felt tightly contained, and pressed to a short length; my penis appeared nearly as only a head without a shaft. It was intended for maximum containment, and I couldn’t fathom how I could have even a slight erection.
I twisted and pulled at my restraints when she attached an electrode to my penile ring inducing me to wince. I couldn’t contain myself and pleaded, “Please don’t.”
“No,” she said firmly and emphatically, “you just proved how much you need it by speaking unprompted—from now on, you are only to speak when I ask you a question.”
“Sorry—”
“Don’t apologize; your feeble apology is of no use whatsoever.” I despaired at her harsh tone. She gripped a handle with a button at the top that she pressed with her thumb—an electric shock bolted through my penis; the sharp pain induced a yelp out of me.
“One more for good measure,” she said just before a second shock inflicted a sharp surge of pain to my genitals. The pain left me panting and glistening from a sudden onset of perspiration.
She picked up a remote and turned on the television. “Now that I have your attention, watch this.”
To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account
(Why register?)
* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.