Showing posts with label straitjacket punishment. Show all posts
Showing posts with label straitjacket punishment. Show all posts

Tuesday, 15 August 2023

Futher Down That Silent Treatment Road

 I think she's tried to beg to stay at that wndow just a litte longer but it's clear that in addition to having had her face slapped she's also been the recipient of a fair dose of the cane...I've done a bit of work on the straitjacket too in the hope that Angela might feed it back into her AI thingy to try and get a better and more realistic version...BTW The nurse has a new head


 I'm not sure about the face slapping and that she's had a dose of the cane. In hindsight I think her treatment perhaps ought to be restricted to simply being totaly ignored...Any thoughts?

Tuesday, 25 May 2010

Victorian Straitjacketed Cruelty: You Couldn’t Make It Up - Well I could...

Coming firmly under the general category of ‘you couldn't make it up’ I came across this (slightly edited) newspaper article while pondering the thorny subject of how one might have ‘put away’ a troublesome young ward or heiress. Of course one might, as Elizabeth Jane Cochran wrote way back in 1887 “…take a perfectly sane and healthy woman, shut her up and make her sit from 6 a.m. until 8 p.m. on straight-back benches, do not allow her to talk or move during these hours, give her no reading [matter] and let her know nothing of the world or its doings, give her bad food and harsh treatment, and see how long it will take to make her insane. Two months would make her a mental and physical wreck”. But how to get her there in the first place? HmmmBut then way back, there were all those possibilities embodied in the marvelous Magdalene Laundries (left) and as has been said, once even young girls who were considered too promiscuous and flirtatious were sometimes sent to such an asylum. And they knew a thing or two about dealing with the recalcitrant young miss in those places.

"A sullen temper, often shown by refusing food, is best dealt with by silence. When a girl wakes up to the fact that no one takes any notice, nor is troubled (apparently at least) by her self-starvation, she gets weary of her self-imposed martyrdom and learns sense." [Arthur J. S. Maddison, Hints on Rescue Work, A Handbook for Missionaries and Superintendents of Homes (1898).

Talking of asylums and straitjacketed bondage: I have just signed up to the affiliate program run by ‘The Girl Asylum', another site filled with content I would think eminently suitable for my readership and of course relevant (which I consider important) to at least part of the story arc of the INSTITUTIONALISED series – click the banner pic (top) to visit or check out the sidebar and the foot of the page.
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PS: I have also added a brand spanking (Ho, Ho, Ha, Ha!) new search facility which you can find at the top of the right-hand sidebar and that you can use to search the blog content, blog links etc. I have just tried it and it works a treat!

Wednesday, 28 April 2010

Institutional and Domestic Discipline: An Illustrative Collaboration

Hands up who would like to see an illustrated version of the new volume when it appears. Over the last couple weeks or so I have been developing a collaborative project with a guy from across the pond who works with 3-D rendering - and who is on a similar wavelength, to boot - with an eye to doing just that. Actually you have met him and his work before in the blog entry dated the 17th April 2010 entitled Another Day, Another Barred Window (click to view) under the name of ‘Snoozz’. It's still early days in the creative process yet, but it's an exciting concept I'm sure you will agree - even so I thought it would be interesting to garner opinion; so let me know what you think! It is ‘Snoozz’ we have to thank for today's pictorial offering (above left). Although representing just one scene, in what is a fairly complex storyline, I feel that it really embodies that all-important sense of oppression and the feeling that here is a buried, private and secluded little world outside the reach of conventional society and beyond the control of meddling ethics committees, busybody social workers and the rest. Quite wonderful! To see more of this guy's work click here.

While on the subject of illustration: the pic on the bottom right is something I pinched from a site I am affiliated to (see bottom of page) and that I think illustrates beautifully a scene I've been working on for the new volume which harks back to an earlier period when one of our characters, prior to being brought to the clinic, had first gone to live with her aunt - a strict, overbearing ex psychiatric nurse who begins to dominate her from day one.

Actually, now that I come to think about it; an opinion poll is something I have yet to do. I've never really been that excited about the idea, simply because there have been so many others carried out in the past on the various other websites, blogs and forums etc that populate the spanking world. Nevertheless it would be interesting to know, for example, which implements my readership prefer to imagine used, what types of scenario are favoured or which fetishes people think might work within the story arc of the series or would like to see included in some manner. At the end of the day this blog has never been entirely about spanking nor is it purely about BDSM in the conventional sense. With that in mind, perhaps a poll or questionnaire could work, if it were presented in a new non-stereotypical way and the questions were structured in such a way as to reflect both the spirit of the books and gain inspiration while stimulating the imagination of the participants.

Towards the end of last week I managed to acquire a chest infection - well to make matters worse while away this past weekend it developed into some sort of full-blown chest complaint, making it difficult to breathe. I have asthma and to be honest it is quite common for a simple cold to develop into a breathing problem - sometimes a sneeze will set off on asthma attack; which is fine if I have an inhaler to hand, which quickly sorts it out. On other occasions - and this looks to be one of them - a secondary infection sets in a whole thing becomes problematic until I can get my hands on some antibiotics. Those of you who regularly followed my ramblings will already know that I rely to a great extent on voice recognition software to dictate my work into the computer as I am as dyslexic as hell, easily distracted and incredibly slow at typing (not in any particular order of importance). Well, in addition to making me nauseous, I'm sure you can imagine how fits of uncontrollable coughing not to mention a blocked nose and wheezing can play havoc with voice dictation software - all sorts of gobbledygook results unless I quickly turn off microphone. To make matters worse the wheezing and blocked nose, together, seem to have affected the character of my voice so that more than ever this perverse little software package seems to be deliberately working against me - and I've often thought that it deliberately misunderstands me in any case… this computer hates me, I am sure of it! Bye for now!

Friday, 13 March 2009

Odds & Sods 'n Stuff & a New Blog to Explore & a 'Truth is Stranger than Fiction' Thingy

The builders are in today so as I can't get much done on volume 2 (not that it needs much doing to it now) I thought I might as well do some work on the blog. First of all; one or two folk have emailed asking about various implements. Mention has particularly been made of the Martinet and the switch. While perusing the 'Web for a good example of the former I came across this charming little Paula Meadows / Lynne Paula Russel sketch and a new blog (or at least, new to me) called Beauty and the Birch (click pic or blog name to visit). As is quite rightly stated on that blog; the Martinet is a 'whip-like instrument incorporating a number of thin leather straps' favored by French girl's schools. It is not something mentioned in INSTITUTIONALISED volume 1 (click for preview / blurb) but does make in appearance in volume 2, introduced by the secure psychiatric wing, experimental psychology unit's new 'school room' mistress - but there applied to the soles of a girl's feet and the palms of her hands (she keeps a heavy leather strap handy for the buttocks). Where I use the word 'switch' I mean of course the riding switch or crop although it can be taken to mean any thin flexible rod, typically used for corporal punishment of the birching type.

Now for another little bit of 'truth' being stranger than fiction: this being from the New york Times (Hope you can read it ok - just click on it to make it bigger). An eighteen year old chained in a seated position for two weeks? Hand cuffs and shackles biting into her, rubbing raw the flesh for two weeks? Far, far too cruel - it is what straight jackets are just made for. A nice comfy straight jacket, all safe and sound, soft padded medical restraints around the ankles, a nice warm padded floor and equally padded walls to lean against, spoon-fed at meal times, placed on a bed pan as necessary or kept in diapers and plastic knickers - with such care there would be no reason not to extend her detention to three weeks or even to a month or so.
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Perhaps even provide her with company; have her join a young lady already a couple of weeks into her treatment - a snapshot or glimpse of her own future self, so to speak, just to give her an idea of what to expect. No talking, mind - oh no, that would never do! And we don't want her muttering to herself, either, do we? I,d favour plain old fashioned good discipline at this point, but a ball gag, better, a baby pacifier, could be applied or perhaps an elctro-shock collar of the type used to train dogs not to bark.
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And the real punishment? Well that would just be that gentle, tinkling little nursery rhyme or lullaby, playing over and over and over - not loud, just there in the background, in the deathly silence and just above the gentle rhythmic hiss of her own breathing and the occasional creak of canvas and leather and rustling of plastic pants. Playing over and over and over 24 hours a day, seven days a week.
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Of course one could choose to stop it after a while, perhaps remove the pacifier or other such restraint - it can always be restarted if she speaks. Or on the other hand it could just be restarted anyway, at random intervals and associated with electric shock - just a mild jolt - to set up neurosis / superstitious behaviour in the subject, A useful approach, that - should one require some way to extend a young lady's residence: perhaps an inheritance is at stake or the control of the family business, perhaps she has seen something she shouldn't or perhaps it simply suits someones whim to see her kept under an exploitative regime of strict discipline for its own sake. (Now, where have you come across some of those ideas before - yes, that's right! INSTITUTIONALISED volume 1)

Monday, 17 November 2008

Another Story I've Come Across in my Travels

I have just found a nice little bit of bondage / slavery / caged-girl story (and a new blog) and I do like to get my fill of girls in cages. Its the best place for them, even if I do tend to keep mine in cells - padded and otherwise - and securely locked and barred hospital wards (literally speaking of course) but nothing really beats a nice cramped little cage (it's just that it doesn't fit with my particular story arc that I'm developing at the moment...unless somebody has some good ideas to incorporate one into the INSTITUTIONALISED story thread. The tale is called The New Pet by DragonMage (read it here - click title - blog link in blog list on sidebar) and I should be able to sort out a suitable caged girl pic later...but then I am still looking for a suitable mouth-soaping pic for the article that I posted up (well I found one, or rather, to tell the truth, I was sent one - thanks go out to Anon 5. I'm not sure of the artist's identity though - I can't read the signature. Personally I'd prefer to see something slightly smaller if anything - she shouldn't have the room to stretch out her legs - and with a litter tray beneath a barred floor to catch her waste. Better still, to my taste, is a straitjacket, a tiny windowless padded cell and a perpetually repeating nursery rhyme (the type of treatment one comes across in INSTITUTIONALISED volume 1) or random electronic beeping, perhaps sounding every two to three minutes - a kind of modern take on the old Chinese water torture).

Its on a nice imaginative little blog called The Lair of the Dragon mage (click to visit) and there are a number of areas of departure from the old tried tested bondage / spanking blog format. For instance there are articles involving orgasm denial and control and the use of hypnosis to achieve a kind of virtual bondage - imagine, if you will, the sheer unadulterated frisson of a woman in reality free to move yet convinced through post hypnotic suggestion that her arms and ankles have been immobilised and forced thereby to retain her position while her bottom is spanked. you can read that bit here (click).

Tuesday, 5 August 2008

Another Volume 1 Extract: Punishment-Rhymes

Another extract from good ol' INSTITUTIONALISED volume 1 for any that haven't read it yet and to help set the scene for the extracts of volume 2 that I have been posting here and will be continuing to in the future. The pic came from one of the old Yahoo groups and is almost certainly a manip, but a nice one (alright, so its not a padded cell, but it captures the anguish nicely). As with the other volume 1 extracts I have posted, this piece has been previously posted on some of the relevant news groups. This piece differs somewhat in that it incorporates straitjacket-bondage, enforced diaper use and psychological punishment. It is very non-consensual so if such subject matter bothers or worries you, then please skip this.
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Punishment-Ryhmes
(Click on title for previous vol 1 extract)
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To set the scene: a young women, 18 year old Lavinia Vittess, has been persuaded to enter an institution as a medical research volunteer only to discover that all is not quite as it had initially seemed. Here we look in on her as, while under the vicious caress of Matron's cane, she finds her mind filled with the memory of a previous punishment.

For the first time Lavinia could make out some detail amongst those shapeless folds of canvas. And then it had hit her: straitjackets, they were straitjackets. Yes, indeed they were straitjackets and quickly indeed the two miscreants were enrobed in the same.

They were told to sit on the floor, as thickly padded as the walls, as their shoes were removed. Again the nurse had left the room, returning, with only the slightest delay, carrying what Lavinia was later to learn were medical restraints, each consisting of two padded leather cuffs linked by a short, strong, leather strap. These were quickly affixed to each girl's ankles.

The dormitory mistress had looked down on the two of them with satisfaction, there were to be no words of explanation just a simple instruction: " No talking". With those words both nurse and mistress departed, the closing door sealing the room as completely as to appear to practically evaporate, becoming part of a seamless continuous padded wall. With the two girls seated against the back wall there was little spare space and Lavinia soon discovered it was not possible to fully stretch out, nor could she topple over, her right shoulder was touching the right wall and her left shoulder was only a very short distance, perhaps two hand-widths, from the other girl's.

From the point of view of the independent observer the instruction not to talk would have been an interesting one. It would, of course, have been possible for the two girls to have been gagged; clearly such a contingency had no part to play in this particular stratagem. The fact was they had been incarcerated in order that they might be trained; they had been told not to talk and, even though they were alone and unsupervised, they would not talk. Patient 16S had already been far too well-trained to dare talk without permission. In her turn Lavinia, patient 30S, would be discouraged by the presence of her deeply trained and unresponsive companion.

Additionally Lavinia would be only too aware that it was she who had caused them both to be punished and it would be she who would be to blame if any further disobedience on her part was to result in her compatriot’s increased suffering; Indeed by this mechanism the most immense psychological pressure was being brought to bear on Lavinia to conform.
And then the nursery rhyme had begun; 'Boys and girls come out to play' apparently performed on a child’s xylophone. The affect on her companion had been immediate; within the space of a few notes she had begun franticly struggling in her straitjacket, rocking back and forth until, totally distraught, she had broken down completely, becoming a spasm-racked wreck of uncontrollable weeping.

Had Lavinia recognised earlier the implications, the pertinence, of the events unfolding before her then surely she too would have been struggling, both physically and mentally; the concern and sympathy she had felt for the girl might well have been inwardly transferred. For, in witnessing the girl’s reaction, had she not been gifted a view across time, a window into her own future? And yet such foresight, when recognised as such, was only to serve to bolster that dreadful inevitability. The presence of an example of their finished product, as it were, could only serve to ensure the correct moulding of their next; that had always been their intent, her 'carers', that was the reason for the double incarceration, the rational behind the punishment of the innocent along with the guilty.

In time, an unknowable time, the chiming had been displaced by an entirely different timbre, the pitch and cadence instantly familiar; simultaneously two stomachs rumbled, two mouths salivated, two girls were consumed with gnawing hunger. Within perhaps half a dozen chimes of the 'meal bell' the door had sprung open, seemingly as an apparition manifesting within the wall itself, to admit a sweetly smiling nurse carrying a white plastic tray upon which sat the familiar white plastic bowls and beakers, two of each, the door being carefully closed behind her by an unseen hand.

The nurse had manoeuvred herself to kneel in front of the girls and midway between the two pairs of bent knees. Sitting back on her heels and with the tray balanced upon her plastic-apron covered lap she proceeded to spoon feed both girls, offering a spoonful to first one girl and then the other, always smiling, occasionally speaking but only ever as reinforcement; "that's a good girl, eat up, you must be very hungry". Outside, the other girls would have been seated around the circular table, as at every meal time.
Both bowls having been emptied the nurse had held a plastic beaker up to each girl's lips in turn until such had been drained in each case and the girl’s thirst quenched. Only at that point did the 'meal bell' cease.

Despite the vastly expanded length of time it had taken to manually feed the two girls, as compared to the standard mealtime, the bell had sounded throughout. Only later was Lavinia to mull over the implications of this latter point; that the bells they heard in their room must issue forth from some source dedicated to that room, rather than from some source centralised throughout the institution. In addition she came to realise that for the clinic to go to such trouble and then to so carefully synchronise such events implied some function of great import to them.

She had had a broad and wide ranging education and was possessed of a general knowledge more thorough and detailed than most; the work of Pavlov and the term, conditioning, were not totally unfamiliar to her. They were being conditioned for some reason, all of them, and she had been, she realised, for some time, since her arrival in fact. She had determined at that that point that she would fight it, ignore the bells, but deep inside that part of her had already been defeated, did she not hunger at the sound of the 'meal bell', did she not give way to weariness at the sound of the ' sleep bell'?

They had sat there in silence since the nurse's departure, Lavinia having begun to mull over more of the practicalities, or rather the impracticalities, of their incarceration. Her stomach was full and it would all have to go somewhere; that was just nature. As it was she had had that awful anal grommet device fitted; even on that deeply, softly, padded floor she was aware of its presence, the anal dilator. She was always aware of its presence; occasional bouts of 'wind' now consisted of a softer and less violent release but one that was uncontrolled and continuing, the legacy of which was detectable with any shifting of weight or movement that might cause a momentary displacement of the leg cuffs of her knickers and that had become a faint but ever present companion. That, even in the absence of a major bowel movement, the earliest, more watery, products of digestion would be trickling into her absorbent pad was beyond doubt; the sticky-warm sensation had already begun to spread across her lower buttocks.

Then it had happened; somewhere a bell had started to toll, the other patient, 16S, was grimacing with the physical pain of her cramping stomach and the psychological pain of the shame of it. Lavinia, despite her recently developed determination of defiance, had felt her bloomers filling around her buttocks and thighs, the device holding open her anus denying her even that last vestige of control. Both girls had simultaneously began weeping with a despair known only to the utterly and totally defeated and had been weeping still when the nurse had arrived.

The straitjacket’s crotch strap had to be released first to allow the nurse to reach up under the canvas and unlock, with the requirement of no little dexterity, the waistband securing the bloomers. Removing the restrained from the girl's ankles allowed the bloomers to be removed and unceremoniously dumped in the waiting bucket. A second nurse had entered and, with the difficulty expected of such close confines, rolled the girl over onto her side to allow a wet sponge thorough and unimpeded access. Lavinia could see that, not unsurprisingly, the girls anus was grossly dilated by the rubber-doughnut that constituted the anal grommet and for the first time she really understood how she herself now appeared, viewed from that angle. But there had been something else, when they had turned her over, her vaginal lips were equally stretched and distorted, the resulting gaping maw apparently surrounded by a sprung rubber-lined ovoid. This region had had to have special attention lavished in order to remove the risk of infection due to the ingress of her bodily waste. One of the nurses had then retrieved a oval black rubber plate device that, it had turned out, was designed to clamp over the poor girl’s medically-corrupted vagina, effectively sealing it off from any further ingress.

The second nurse had been working on the girl at the same region, and upon completion of her task a short length of flexible white tubing protruded out from between the girl's legs, this latter being routed through an orifice provided in the rubber plate prior to its being fitted in position. The girl was now sealed from infection and successfully catheterised. A strong smell of disinfectant had filled the air and then she was re-robed in a fresh pair of bloomers. The latter having been locked back in place, the crotch strap was refastened and her ankles were placed back in restraints. In due course Lavinia too had been dealt with in a similar manner, albeit without the complication of catheterisation, and the two girls again left to their isolation. And then the nursery rhyme resumed its charming, chiming, song.
Mealtimes had come and gone without number, bloomers, now fitted over diapers, were filled and consequently changed. The 'sleep bell’ would sound, promising respite, yet, shortly after, the nursery rhyme would restart its gentle jangling, both girls jolted awake by its resumption then dozing intermittently, all the while those few notes sounding, over and over and over through to the next mealtime. In time both girls had become indistinguishable in their desperation, in their weeping, both girls struggling within their confining bondage, the secure unrelenting swaddling-womb of their straitjackets, at each resumption of that once innocent but now so, so, terrible, song. Bodies writhed and twisted over and over, heads repeatedly thumped against walls and floor, with all the consequence of impact with the softest of feather pillows. Screams rendered throats so raw as to reduce to practically inaudible pathetic mewing any further protestations.

Only upon their thrashings becoming so wild as to threaten injury from the clashing of heads had more stringent restraint been called for; the addition of a simple leather leash, of a suitable length, between collar ring and ankle restraints enforcing the adoption of a safely-passive, if still writhing, foetal position. Thus restrained they had remained lying on the floor of their padded cell for a further week; not that the concept of a week would have meant anything to either girl by that stage. A further week of spoon feedings, diaper changes and, at least partial, sleep deprivation, and all of it to the constant accompaniment of a simple child's song, gently tinkling in their ears and through their minds.

There had been a time, a short period early on in their confinement, when for while all had gone quiet, peaceful silence had reigned. Lavinia had been cheered, filled with jubilation and renewed defiance. She had been buoyed by the knowledge that she had defeated them, that she had pulled through the ordeal unscathed and defeated them. A girlish giggling had, at length, evolved into a room-filling raucous laughter, initially unrecognized even by its originator. Yet it was her laughter, a strangely perverted laughter, one adorned with a hysterical, maniacal, edge; a laughter that, occurring within earshot of any rational observer, would surely have prompted the gravest of doubts be cast on the applicability of the term ‘unscathed’. Indeed, to the more experienced ear, it would have spoken more of a woman driven close to her breaking point.

And then the laughter had subsided; again silence had reigned, that essential painful silence encountered so rarely in one’s everyday experience and inhabiting so few terrestrial environments save such a room as that within which they had been confined. All had become deathly silent…

Silent, that is, save for the gentle sobbing of the girl known as patient 16S.
It had been an act of sympathy and concern as much as of defiance: “A, a, ar, aaar, are, yyyy y,ou, O,O,O OK” Her almost incoherent stammering barely audible even in that numbing silence. The response had been a voice wracked and stifled with the most primal, most phobic dread.
“N, , n,n,no, ppp, p,pleassse, nn,n,no.”

Such had been the limit of their discourse; so soon had those vibrant xylophone notes begun singing their soft song of soul-torturing sweetness, so soon had that despair returned, so soon had she known the simple fact that she would never again disobey, never again disobey anyone, ever, ever again.

Copyright (c) 2008 Garth. P. ToynTanen


Taken from: Institutionalised Volume 1: Beyond The Stanford Experiment

Tuesday, 8 July 2008

Introduction and welcome message




Welcome, one and all, to the official



INSTITUTIONALISED



blog and discussion site





The home of Garth. P. ToynTanen, his ideas and, it is hoped, yours!


This is the place to learn more about the author and what makes him tick,to learn more about the influences and inspirations behind the INSTITUTIONALISED trilogy (more likely tetralogy, if all pans out)

This is most definitely NOT the place to discuss anything of a paedophilic nature;the author does not condone paedophilia in any form and where the term 'girl' is used it is as a derogatory term intended to apply to any young woman stripped adult privileges in one way or another.

If you are an aficionado of literature dealing with young ladies undergoing strict discipline, of the imposition and enforcement of petty rules and restrictions, of strict and humiliating uniforms and the enforcementof the same through the judicial application of the cane, the tawse, the riding crop etc as well as less orthodox, psychological methods...then this is the place for you!

This is particularly so if you tend to favour the imposition of discipline within the institutional environment, although there is much to be said also for the more domestic environment if suitably enclosed, secure, and isolated from prying eyes and interfering moderates: Given the right situation and a well chosen and imaginative governess, much can be achieved in curbing a young lady's spirit.

From the outset the idea behind the project was always to go beyond the traditional world of corporal punishment portrayed in the works of authors such as Victor Bruno, Richard Manton et al ( has much as I admire their work) and to attempt to incorporate more of a psychological aspect, both in terms of examining the mindsets of the protagonists, of the disciplined and of the discipliner both, and in terms of the approach to discipline and correction. Corner-standing, impositions such as the writing of lines or rote learning and strictly decreed postural requirements, such as having to sit for long periods with back straight and hands flat on the school desk; all these have their part to play. So feel free to discuss your own view of what discipline means and how it should be introduced to a young lady or young ladie, also how it might relate to the storyline of volume 1 (if it indeed does) or how it might fit into future volumes (or indeed the sort of thing you would like to see included).

It was also decided at the outset that the storyline should incorporate other fetishes interests that, while being strictly speaking outside my own sphere, nevertheless seemed appropriate in many ways as being amenable the imposition of restraint and of control. Various forms of bondage were an obvious inclusion of course, but then there are such subjects such as enforced diaper use, leading inexorably to the inclusion of plastic and latex rubber knickers, bloomers, pants etc. And then there are the uniforms, of course; the latter open to all sorts of discussion, from the physical aspects, the type of fabrics, nylon, serge, the underwear, girdles, corselletes, corsets, stockings, you name it, to the psychological effect on the wearer, whether submissive or assertive depending on the role.

And as all these aspects of control unavoidably involve changes to the psyche the inclusion of certain forms of mind control to the story-arc seemed most appropriate (indeed the entire project was originally stimulated by a series of mind control story ideas published on one of the newsgroups, of which more later). Thus aspects of sensory deprivation, hypnosis, NLP and even the deliberate induction or intensification of certain phobias can be introduced in order to wield control over a young lady; the latter approach while being particularly suitable in the institutional environment is not impossible to initialy introduce within a more domestic scenario.

So you see, there is much that can be discussed here, practically without limit, much that can be incorporated into the continuing story arc; your imagination is the only limitation, within the bounds of what can be logically incorporated in a sensible manner of course.
  • What do you like, or dislike, or indeed hate, so far?
  • What would you like to see incorporated in the story arc to come?
  • What were your interests vis-a-vis the discipline and control of young women?
Let your imagination rip!!!