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erection. But her face became hard once again.
    “ Did I give you permission to have an erection, boy?”
    “No, Aunt Sophia,” I muttered.
    “Get rid of it!”
    I began to stammer a nervous apology.
    “Get rid of it or get out!”
    I realized what she wanted me to do and with downcast eyes, I began to masturbate in front of her.
    “Look me in the eye when you’re doing that!” Aunt Sophia said.
    I stroke d my penis faster and more urgently, while keeping eye contact with her. It was the most erotic and exciting experience I had ever had.
    “When you reach an ejaculate pull your foreskin over the tip of your penis so that you do not spill anything on my clean floor!” she said
    I quickly reached a tumultuous orgasm that made my body shudder with violent spasms of pleasure. I stood there, gripping my penis nervously to stop it from leaking. She went into the kitchen and came out with a small glass tumbler and told me to deposit my semen into it.
    When I was done Aunt Sophia produced a metal penis sheath with small sharp metal spikes on the inside . At the sight of it, a prickle of fear and excited anticipation rippled through me.
    I stood still as she clamped the inhibiting sheath over my penis. I winced – the tiny metal spikes bit into my flesh like sharp teeth. The sheath was uncomfortably tight and constricting.
    “This will teach you to exerci se control over yourself and prevent you from getting hard again,” Aunt Sophia said, “If you want to continue visiting me, you will learn self-control and self-discipline.”
    Aunt Sophia then produced leather wrist and ankle straps which she strapped onto me.
    “Follow me,” she said abruptly.
    She led me down the passage until we came to a room with a black painted door.  We entered, my aunt leading the way.  The floor was carpeted in red and the walls and ceiling were painted black. The single window was also painted black and blocked out with heavy black velvet drapes. The room was lit by a single red bulb suspended from the ceiling, which gave the room an eerie red glow as though we were standing in Dante’s inferno. 
    The walls were covered in large, poster-sized prints of men in su bmissive positions – kneeling while being whipped by a woman, manacled in chains, gagged, blind-folded, suspended upside down from the ceiling... The scenes were graphic and gruesome. The room had the look of a medieval torture chamber, with strange devices, metal cages, and evil looking instruments of torture scattered about. 
    I froze in the doorway, truly afraid for the first time. My aunt watched me with hooded eyes, like a cat keenly watching its prey enter its domain before it strikes.  She saw me staring at the large iron cage suspended from the ceiling, the man-sized St. Andrews cross with its straps to hold its victim secure, a high wooden table in the centre of the room that looked somewhat like a table from a doctor’s consulting room, fitted with straps and stirrups… and there were more metal rings embedded in the walls and floor and ceiling…
    My heart was beating wildly with panic.
    My aunt became impatient and grabbed me by my penis, closing her hand like a steel vice around the spiked sheath, and dragged me into the room, slamming the door behind me. I was fairly certain that the room was soundproof and, should I scream, no one would hear me.
    She pulled me roughly up against the wall where heavy metal rings were mounted in the floor and wall.
    “Stand here,” she commanded tersely. “Spread your legs and place your feet wide apart.” She attached my ankle straps to the metal rings in the floor. “Now lift your arms and spread them wide!”
    I did as I was told and she padlocked the two wrist straps to metal rings embedded in the wall above so that my arms were spread out above me. Then she clamped a metal belt around my waste and locked it into metal brackets on the wall. I was effectively pinned to the wall, imprisoned, spread-eagled and unable to