Short Story XVIII

The beast hears the shuffling of human activity. He stirs, wriggling his head within the tight iron neck collar, his arms testing both wrist shackles and connected arm bands. The reality of thorough bondage returns after an evening of dreams.

For some reason, in his nightly slumber, however difficult to attain in kneeling bent back over the capstan prong, he consistently fantasizes about having the ability to move unencumbered... somewhat. Yes, the Princess has forgiven, and the near hundred pounds of iron have been removed. Instead he is lightly tethered to a pony cart. And he runs... freely... full steps.... his feet prancing with glee. His burden is nominal, his gait evidencing mirth. For it is the Princess who holds the reins and bears the crop. He conveys her with pride, accepting the lash of her crop, instantly responding to controlling tugs. He is of course naked. His penis erect. To his scrotum there has been tied a leather tether. When his Princess tugs there, his penis waggles in celebration. He enjoys the feel of her governing hand.

With the abundant sweat, the sound of the crop brings noteworthy ‘splats’ as the Princess works his buttocks. In dreamland, her firm lashes feel good, bringing forth the comfort of being owned, well trained livestock to be fed, watered, bathed, massaged and pampered. So he can best perform for her. To be displayed.

But alas, as full cognizance dawns and his bound neck and arms return him to reality, he feels the nearness of his tormentress. Her fingers work about the neck collar to release a thick leather hood, born each and every night as a result of his futile attempt to escape.

As the blinding garment is slipped away, the beast extends his tongue. Kendra wordlessly grasps the slippery wet length and begins the twice daily exercises. The beast was never before aware that, just as with every muscle, the tongue can be strengthened... and lengthened, particularly after Kendra’s quick snip of the frenulum. Thus she pulls with vigor, always applying enough tension to bring stifled moans of displeasure. Left, right, up down, twist... consistently pulling with passion.

Next Kendra straddles. Her gluteal cleft is to be licked, lapped with zeal by an awakened tongue. The otherwise perverse offering brings amazing thrills... physical pleasure... the satisfaction of the ultimate in feminine dominion... the male serving with such apparent humble delight.

Kendra would care to sit all day, but she has saved the emptying of her bladder for he who will receive life sustaining liquid in no other fashion. Thus her need brings an end to the divine analingus. She slips back and presents, the beast now knowing the way to her urethral opening. She smiles as his lips know to surround, and she opens herself knowing that not a drop is to be missed.

Again there comes a curious sense of satisfaction. For Kendra, watering her charge in such an intimate manner is thought to be akin to nursing an infant... her bodily juices coveted. And indeed the lips seem to savor. For, though he will have a limited portion of gruel, he will receive no other fluids... save the feminine essence of her quim... and perhaps some of her sweat... should he beg enough.

Bladder empty, Kendra again shifts to offer more of her quim and there begins extended cunnilingus. By now, the tongue can slip well within her vagina. It can and does pressure the urethral sponge as she has trained. The toothless mouth will nibble her bud, the beast knows now exactly where it is to be located and to slowly increase the pressure there. Yes, the proper application of lips and tongue can bring forth amazing orgasms... and a torrent of feminine essence as Kendra ejaculates freely. The beast will consume with fervor. There is constant thirst to be quenched. And for Kendra there will come again thoughts of nursing as all liquids are hungrily consumed. The beast knows he relies on her for all.

“Your penis stands, my pet. You truly enjoy serving me. There is adoration for a woman of authority.”

A teasing right hand reaches back. It offers a tantalizing stroke, firm... knowing... controlling. Then it playfully bends to demonstrate the incredible stiffness offered by the virile yet permanently chastened male. Kendra knows so well the frustration her simple surgery has imbued. The hot shard first excruciatingly burned, then the thin pink flesh of the urethra healed, effectively cauterizing and forever closing the opening... no bladder relief... no ejaculatory relief. The beast now squats to pee. And when the prostate stimulator impales, the resulting fluid merely streams through her new opening to slowly drench the inner thighs.

On occasion, a controlling finger will gather and offer the ooze to quench a constant thirst.

One, orgasm... two... three... Kendra counts no more. She finally dismounts and unclips the wrist chain.

“Up.”

The beast obeys, righting himself at the waist, knowing to part his knees. It is time to urinate for Miss Kendra... and empty his bowels into an offered receptacle.

Thereafter, a long, long day begins. The numbed mind signals the body to lean and step... beginning a serenade of his nipple bells. Gruel will be consumed, spoonfuls offered at Kendra’s leisure as the capstan slowly turns and water is pumped. Water he will never taste or consume... unless first passing through Kendra’s divine form.

“How do you feel today, my pet?”

“Owned.”

“You are.”

“I am. Will I die here, Miss Kendra?”

“Probably. And you’ll be buried in irons. Death will not bring release. There will be no reason to expend the time and energy to unburden your body.”

The beast steps as he talks, the hobbling chain clattering, the nipples bells ringing. He becomes forlorn in contemplating his ultimate fate. Kendra smiles.

“But you still have your balls.”