Please see this thread for details regarding why I wrote this. As shameful as it may be to admit (even to myself), I have some unsavoury traits. Chief amongst them is my compulsive masturbation habit. It's not something I like to think about, but I spend too much time touching my cock and balls. Time I should be spent working, cleaning, improving myself. This isn't exactly an appealing quality, especially since I declare myself a submissive, and as such should not be getting into the mindset of thinking of my own pleasure. To my great fortune, however, a Domme has agreed to take ownership of my genitalia and re-train me in the proper mindset of a submissive with regards to his sexual urges. This is thus why and how I find myself stripped and spread-eagled upright in the middle of a room to hooks on the floor and suspended from the ceiling, with a leather-clad woman slowly and menacingly walking around me, examining me from all sides, the ominous tapping of her boots raising the suspense. Suddenly, she stops to my left, reaches her right hand between my thighs and starts to gently manipulate my balls, whispering huskily into my ear "So, I hear you've been letting these do your thinking for you boy." "Yes Ma'am, I've been playing with myself too much." "But now you've handed control over them to me, haven't you?" "Yes Ma'am, they are yours to deal with as you see fit." She chuckles evilly, and without warning squeezes hard. "Oh, I know..." Releasing her grasp, she idly trails her right hand on me as she moves clockwise once again, stopping when directly in front of me. Looking straight into my eyes, she puts her hands on either side of my chest and waits for a few moments.... before wham she pile-drives her knee into my crotch. "How dare you touch yourself without permission!" wham, wham, wham "Being able to cum whenever you like is a privilege reserved solely for Dominants!" wham, wham, wham "Submissives like yourself only get to cum when granted permission to do so, and solely for the enjoyment of the Dominant!" wham, wham, wham With each declamation, she punctuated her words with further strikes at my unprotected genitalia. By this stage, I'm only staying upright due to the chains attached to my wrists. This doesn't deter her though: changing pace, she stepped back a pace or two and continued the assault with her feet, kicking me and trusting in the bonds to hold me in position. "You are pathetic! You think that just because no-one owned you at the time you could just take it upon yourself to decide that it was OK fondle yourself? You're nothing but a filthy little masturbator!" She suddenly storms around behind me, reaches one hand around to cup my mistreated testicles and the other grabs my hair and pulls my head down so that my ear is next to her mouth. Angrily, she she says "Admit it! You're nothing but a filthy masturbator!" "I'm.... I'm..." even now, I can't even admit it. Despite knowing that it's true, the shame of publicly stating and confessing it was still too much for me. Suddenly her grasp on my testicles tightens and it feels like they might pop. "Say it..." she growls warningly... "I'M A FILTHY LITTLE MASTURBATOR!!!!!!!" I scream out. The pressure is removed from both my head and my balls, and she says normally "That's better." She walks back around to face me, and gently strokes my cheek. "Poor boy..." she coos. "I'm sorry Ma'am!" I sob. Suddenly the evil grin is back: "You just think you're sorry... when I'm done with you, you'll know you're sorry!" She moves out of my field of view, and the next thing I hear is the rumble of the motor adding more slack to the chains and reducing the strain on my arms and shoulders. By this stage I'm able to stand - a bit shakily, but still on my own - as I bring my arms back down in front of me. She comes back behind me, reaches around and unlocks the cuff off of one wrist... only to suddenly bring both of my arms back around me and re-cuff the wrist. As I stand there in shock from thinking my ordeal was over only to realise it wasn't, I hear the motor running again, this time pulling my wrist up and behind me so that I'm forced into a strappado position. She comes back and squats in front of me so that our faces are roughly at the same height. "You didn't think we were done, did you?" she asks mockingly, ruffling my hair. "We've just gotten you to the stage of admitting your faults; now comes the re-training to stop you from committing them again!" Walking back behind me, she reaches under me and starts manipulating my cock and balls. Despite their earlier torment, they invariably start to react. "If I didn't know better, I would have thought you were enjoying yourself!" she laughs. She then yanks hard on my balls and says angrily "You're not meant to be enjoying yourself." Grabbing and squeezing my scrotal sack between my shaft and balls - forcing them down to the end of the sack - with her left hand, she informs me: "I'm going to drive in some truths into that filthy masturbator's head of yours. I'm going to use a few different implements on your oh-so-vulnerable balls here, and for each strike you're going to repeat what I tell you until I think you believe that statement before moving on to the next implement." And so it went: a strike (occasionally and deliberately moving from my balls to my shaft or thighs), followed by my recitation and vowing of what I was told: The crop: "I will not touch myself without permission." The wooden spoon: "My cock and balls no longer belong to me." The paddle: "I will not even think about pleasuring myself without permission." The flogger: "I will not hint at, beg for or manipulate to get permission to cum." The cane: "I should not expect to cum, and will be suitably grateful when given permission to do so." All the implements had been used, my balls felt like they had swollen three-fold from the abuse they had received. I could feel the heat emanating from them, and even moving my hips fast enough to rock my genitalia slightly so that it would touch my inner thighs was enough to pull a gasp of pain from me. I thought we must be finally be done. Of course, that wasn't the case. "We've now punished what you received unauthorised pleasure from... now we've got to teach the part of you that you used to give yourself that pleasure. Spread out the palms of your hand." And thus the leather strop went to work with my hands, and after each strike I cried out - as directed - "I seek only pleasure from pleasing others." Finally, that too ended. I heard the motor run again, and the chain loosened, allowing me to stand once again. As she started to release my wrists I flinched involuntarily, wondering what fresh torment she had in store for me. "Shhhhhh...." she said softly, stroking my head. "We're finally finished boy. Let me just release you from these and then we'll go and sit down." My wrists and ankles were released from their bonds, and she gently led me over to the couch, where she sat down and then drew me onto her lap, and pulled my head onto her shoulder and started stroking my head once again. "I think you've learnt your lesson now boy, and won't be looking to play with yourself any time soon. To help you, once you've had a few days to heal down there, we'll lock up your cock and balls into a nice solid chastity device so that even if you do get tempted you won't be able to get yourself into trouble. What do you say to that?" I moved my head slightly so that I could look her in the eyes, and smiled contentedly. "Thank you Ma'am." "Good boy."