This is a
story about power and control; it is the kind of control that is often dreamed
of, but seldom realised in real life This is also the tale of a dream that came
true for some, but became a living nightmare of reality for many others.
To begin, may I ask a question of you male readers and some of you
female readers too, for that matter? How would you like to possess a female
companion, one who would always be totally obedient to you without question? A
lady who would do anything you ask and who would unhesitatingly call you
Master, if you so desired? One whose entire existence is dominated by a
compulsive desire to please and serve you in every way possible? I’m talking
about a virtual slave girl, a female figure from the Arabian Nights, a
slave-like woman who would happily live naked, or wear chains for you, if it
made you happy. This would be a woman who would gladly have you ‘throw a leg
over’ whenever you became driven by the urge and not make you feel like a
Saturday Night rapist. Now, I’m sure no independent, emancipated, 21St
Century modern woman would even remotely consider applying for the position,
but the question is, will that ideal male-orientated relationship ever be
achieved? And if so, how could it be done - and by whom?
No? Impossible you say? Out of the question? You may be right, but then
again, maybe not. Before you dismiss the whole idea as preposterous, I would
urge you to reserve your judgement and join me now, whilst I reveal to you the
amazing tale of ‘SCARAB’
Chapter One - Karla
time of the ancient Egyptian civilisation, an
important species of scarab beetle known as the Tumblebug was widely regarded
as sacred. It was also looked upon as a symbol of immortality. In those far off
days, various items of jewellery were fashioned
around the image of that beetle, including brooches, amulets, rings and
pendants, many of which often contained precious stones. Such jewellery became
collectively known as ‘Scarabs’, decorative beetle-shaped items, which were
mostly worn on clothing and sometimes directly on the body. Whilst it is true
that today similar jewellery is still available, the Scarab to which you will
shortly be introduced bears little resemblance to the original in either design
Our Scarab, the one you will read about in these pages, is an ultra-modern
device designed to exercise almost total behavioural control over the human female. It does this by the judicious use of
up-to-date radio and electronic technology, combined with the very latest
achievements in the field of metallurgy, which allows the device to be remotely
controlled and to be ‘worn’ almost indefinitely. As you will shortly see, the
quotation marks used around the word ‘worn’ are quite justified. In this case
the use of the verb ‘to wear’ conveys an entirely different and sinister
The original idea of the Scarab occurred to me some time ago after
discussing the pros and cons of chastity belts with a lady friend. Whilst Karla
was not entirely against the idea of them in basic principle, she felt the sheer
impracticability of wearing heavy uncomfortable objects would surely defeat the
purpose. She believed nobody could endure that experience for long and, after
all, wasn’t long-term utilisation the whole idea? With that I totally agreed.
Having seen some of the monstrosities women have been asked to wear over the
years, I considered their practicability was certainly in question; however, I
felt there was still a place for the CB, provided something more generally
acceptable could be devised.
Due to my engineering background I always consider that all problems
have a solution and this one was no exception. I felt, given sufficient time, I
could come up with a design that would be more than acceptable and could sell
quite well. Half jokingly I asked Karla, “What if I could engineer something
comfortable and practical? Would you help me develop it by providing access to
the female genitalia upon which to base the design?” After a shriek and a
tirade of amazingly profane language, even for a lady, she stormed off. ‘Oh
well,’ I thought, ‘I guess the answer’s in the negative,’ and put the idea
aside, for the time being at least.
Several days later I answered a phone call from that very same lady. She
must have cooled down by then, as she jokingly said to me, “Ok
smarty pants, listen up. If you can come up with some earth shattering new
hi-tech chastity device that works, then I’ll let you fiddle about with me down
there, but only if it doesn’t hurt and only if nobody else hears about it.” I
was dumbfounded. The ball was now in my court. I thanked her profusely and got
down to some really serious thinking.
The problem of design is never difficult, what is difficult is the
creation of an entirely new concept, and that was the problem. I had promised
an entirely new, earth-shattering breakthrough, but so far I had achieved
nothing at all. In desperation I resorted to an old ruse I recalled from my
student days. If all else fails, and you can’t work something out, ask your
subconscious mind for the answer and then sleep on it. It used to work for me
when I was an undergraduate, why shouldn’t it work now?
I went to sleep in absolute confidence of being able to reach new heights. I
awoke the following morning in total despair. The foolproof scheme of my youth
had failed me. All I had dreamed about that night were beetles, horrible little
oblong crawly critters that obviously had absolutely nothing to do with my
Adding to my frustration was the thought of not soon being able to
invite my beautiful and tantalisingly cooperative lady friend over for a
“fitting”. Though I was prepared to be thoroughly professional with her I was
still ‘bustin’a gut’ for the experience. I knew what the fitting entailed, and
I knew damn well how much I was going to enjoy it. The way things were going I
might never get to enjoy the many delights that I could as yet only imagine.
hit me; what fitting? I needed measurements, didn’t I? Yes of course. My heart
raced as I reached for the phone.
Karla was at home and yes she could come over that evening. She said,
“What would you like me to wear?”
I replied, “Oh, something loose would be suitable.”
With that she said, “OK, see you about seven,” and hung up the phone.
The prospect of having Karla over for drinks (and things} always excited
me, but this was entirely different. In this situation I had no previous
experience. Sure we had been lovers on and off for quite a while, but this was
a completely different deal. I mean, what does one say to a lady to open the
conversation in such circumstances? I was still contemplating that problem when
the doorbell rang.
Karla is the tall blond German type, with legs up to her armpits, well,
up to her more than amply proportioned Teutonic tits at least. She has long
blond hair that reaches down to the small of her back, whenever she chooses to
let it down, that is. She only does so on special occasions. On that particular
occasion her hair hung long and free, with just a ribbon to stop it blowing
about. Her silken trousers were designer cut to display her trim athletic
figure and her jacket was buttoned up just enough to accentuate her stunning
cleavage. As I opened the door her delightful perfume wafted over me. Try as I
might I simply wasn’t able to think of a damn thing to say.
With ease and confidence she swept into the room, smiling at my obvious
embarrassment. “Come on David,” she said. “It’s not like you to be stuck for
words. What would you like me to do?”
I collected my wits and replied, “Well Karla, I think we ought to sit down
and have a drink first, then I’ll explain to you in detail what has to be
“That’s fine by me,” she said cheekily. “Can’t wait for those details.”
A couple of stiff drinks later I regained my composure and broached the
subject. Tonight was for measurements and I had set up my computer and special
hand scanner for the purpose. I explained I needed detailed plotting of her
genitals and would be able to record this material on floppy disk to use in the
final design phase.
She nodded approvingly and then said with a smile, “OK then, do I have
to sit on the computer or something?”
Straining to keep my composure, I said, “Karla, do you still want to
help out with this project, or are you simply having fun at my expense?”
She looked hurt for an instant, then bounced back with, “No David, I
know if you put your mind to something it could be a winner. I came to help and I will, but first I want you sign this?”
She presented a simple contractual agreement stating that she would be
considered an equal partner in the production and development of the new
chastity device that I was working on. I looked up in surprise to hear her say,
“It’s my ass, baby; if this thing of yours turns out to be any good I want a
piece of the action too, get the picture?”
Yes, I got the picture and what else could I do anyway? I signed the contract and got down to
“Karla, you know roughly what I have to do tonight, so if you are
serious, please be kind enough to get yourself ready.” In response she
determinedly rose to her feet and kicked off her shoes. Then, fixing me with
her gaze, she ever so slowly and carefully drew down her beautifully tailored
silken pants inch by breathless inch, pausing at her mound for just a moment to
titillate before continuing on to reveal her pure white nakedness beneath.
“Shall I take off my top, too?” she said, with a wicked smile.
‘Why not?’ I thought. But for some unexplainable moronic reason blurted
out, “No, er, that won’t be necessary.”
Leading Karla to my bedroom, I positioned her in a kneeling position
face down on the side of the bed, placed my hands on her soft supple skin and
spread her legs wide apart. Then I folded her knees up a little further and
packed a pillow under her belly to help her keep balance and maintain position.
I knew it would be difficult for her to remain in that position for any length
of time, so I suggested I tie her legs.
“Kinky,” she chuckled, but didn’t complain.
I tied a length of rope around one knee, passed it under the bed and
brought it up on the other side where I attached it to her other knee. I was
then able to firmly draw on the rope, forcing her legs wide apart until she
begged me to stop. With her legs firmly secured she surprised me with, “Do yah
wanna tie my hands too? I might get violent.” I know I should not have done so
but couldn’t resist the temptation. God, I’m only human. I drew her arms around
behind her, folded her wrists together and bound them tightly with another rope
that just ‘happened’ to be nearby. Soon she was firmly fastened hand and foot,
perched helpless, face down on the mattress with her bottom up in the air; legs
tucked up on each side of her belly and knees pulled cruelly apart by the rope.
Her sex was forced wide-open, giving easy access for my purpose. She could
hardly move a muscle and to be held in that position so firmly must have been
painful. I stood back and admired my handiwork. It was the most beautiful sight
I had seen for a long long time.
With my scanner I traced the shape and contours of her genitals, steadying
my hand against the soft yielding flesh of her inner thigh. Firstly I traced
around the vulva, paying special attention to that upper area where the
clitoris and clitoral hood are situated. I needed very accurate mapping of that
special spot. Then the outer labia, followed by the labia minora were carefully
traced. With my face so close to her genitals I could smell that strange faint
mustiness of womanly flesh one senses during cunnilingus. It was a scent I had
not previously enjoyed with Karla. I thought, “Perhaps when the scanning is
complete I could get my tongue and ...?
Then again, perhaps not.”
those files recorded I ran the disk through my computer to confirm the
necessary details were complete. It was all there in perfect detail, so I had
no further need to keep Karla helplessly bound on the bed. I went back and
asked if she was OK. She said she was a bit stiff and sore and was looking
forward to being released. Shamelessly I told her the disk had not turned out
terribly well and I would need to do it all again. She said she wanted to be
untied but I refused, explaining that she couldn’t be allowed to move, as it
would spoil some of the good tracings I already had. I’m sure she knew I was
lying, but she didn’t complain any further, being resigned to her fate. After
all, what else could she do?
I then went through the entire procedure again, taking special care not
to miss anything. At least that’s what I told her. Once again I breathed in her
sexual aroma, fantasising that my tongue had been transformed into a paintbrush
and was creating the masterpiece I beheld before me.
“Ooooooh, that feels different,” she said, trying to arch her hips
towards me in sexual reflex. I slowly brought my tongue up to her awakening
clitoris and gently circled it. I thought she deserved some pleasure for her
efforts and for me it was no great imposition. For Karla the exercise had
become a painful one, with the rope biting deep into her soft white flesh, but
as can often be the case I think the pain accentuated her pleasure. For me it
had been pure heaven, so it was only fair she should share a little bit of that
heaven too. I sucked and nibbled her clit just a little bit more, this time for
her enjoyment. Sometimes I can be such a considerate sod!
Finally, when I had all I needed in the way of images - and satisfaction
- I undid her legs and helped her to stand up. “What about my hands?” she
“Oh, they were your idea, do you want them undone too?” I said, with an
“Bastard,” she hissed
I slowly and regretfully untied her hands and promptly received a solid
smack across the face, which I no doubt deserved. “Bastard, for a minute there
I thought you were going to rape me or something.” Then slyly she whispered,
“You could have, you know. Tied up like that I couldn’t have stopped you and
nobody would have known. What’s the matter with you, don’t you like krauts?”
In the next few minutes I found myself back in familiar territory, only
this time I was using a different instrument, one that did not paint
masterpieces or take tracings.