Short Story XXIV

Cleaned up. With some enhancement.

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“Are you comfortable, Baron?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good boy. You saw how my assistant strapped you into the masturbation harness. In future appointments you will don it yourself and report to her for inspection. Then politely knock on my door and we will begin your counseling.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“We like obedient men here, Baron. We have a system of correction and award... which I will explain as we proceed. Are you excited about your appointment? You have not ejaculated since the Queen’s decree. How long has it been?

“Four weeks, ma’am.”

“Yes. The Baroness has submitted a rather thorough report, as you are aware. Your first counseling session. Step over here and stand under the cable please.”

The Baron obeys, of course. In the Kingdom, now a gynecocracy, all women are to be obeyed.

“You should relax. There is no reason to panic. As a behavior specialist I have handled many men for many years.”

The woman is in her mid forties, nearly half a generation older than the Baron. Pleasant but firm, a streak of graying hair suggests a matronly maturity. And there is no doubt who is in charge. The Queen has hired dozens of counselors, behavioral specialists to assure male compliance with her decree.

“The harness you wear was originally designed for parachuting. Safety and comfort, two very important elements for masturbating a man in the manner I prefer. So just calm yourself and answer all my questions and I will have you drained and feeling very good. Then I will adjust your emasculator and have you back with the Baroness in time for you to prepare dinner.”

The counselor references an elaborate collection of straps which enshroud the torso. Thick nylon, cleverly padded in areas of stress, two broad straps encircle the thighs. As the dangling cable is hooked to a large ring at the nape of the neck, the woman pulls upwards to test. The Baron feels the slight slack of the harness tighten and the thigh straps tension his inner thighs.

“Hands behind your back please.”

Wrist cuffs of similar nylon and padding are clipped together. Then the Baron feels tension on a matching ankle cuff. His right foot is raised and secured to the waist belt of the harness with a slim cord. When his left foot is raised, his entire weight shifts to the harness, his body hanging from the single cable above.

The Baron is quickly and comfortably suspended!

The counselor steps back, inspecting but also seeming to admire her work as the helpless Baron slowly swings about.

“I so much enjoy suspending a man. It sends the appropriate message, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I suppose so ma’am.”

“So how does it feel to be hanging completely naked before a woman, Baron? For a once haughty aristocrat there must be a sense of comeuppance.”

“Yes, ma’am. It is quite embarrassing.”

“And how is your penis doing... all locked up in the Queen’s cock cage.”

“It’s beginning to stiffen, ma’am.”

“Yes, suspension has that effect on the male anatomy. Something about the tension, or lack thereof, on the spinal cord. You’ve been locked up for weeks. Release requested?”

“Please yes. My penis. It’s fighting the steel mesh. And it hurts.”

“Good. Working as designed.”

The counselor steps forth and produces a key. Knowing fingers work about the chastity device.

“As you are aware, only counselors have a key. Not even the Baroness can release you, should she ever give in to a moment of weakness and seek to offer you relief.”

There comes the sound of a slight click. The Baron sighs in relief as the steel mesh, sharp points wickedly aligning the inner cylinder, is gently slipped away.

“Only the once mighty are caged with the points, Baron. The ordinary subjects are locked in less rigorous devices.”

The counselor smiles as the manhood of the Baron instantly completes its rise to full erection. She then steps to a wall switch and flicks. The naked hanging form lowers, bent knees almost touching the floor.

“So let’s talk, shall we.”

The Baron hears the snap of latex, the counselor dons gloves.

“How does it feel to now be in female dominant household?”

“It’s... well it’s different.”

“How?” the counselor inquires in pushing a chair most proximate to her dangling patient.

“There are demands. The female servants work me... cleaning... cooking. It does not end.”

“It is good for you... for your psyche... working for women that you once ordered about. The Baroness gives you a passing grade on the household duties. Seems you’ve adapted well in taking orders from the domestic help.”

“They all have whips and crops.”

“Yes, I suppose that tends to motivate,” the counselor chuckles.

“But you apparently have reservations concerning oral servitude.”

The Baron remains silent.

“Yes, Baron, according to the report it seems you were reluctant to gamahuche a couple of weeks ago.”

“The Baroness was... well it was her time of the month.”

“That makes no difference. Your reluctance, under our correction and award system, has earned you one quarter turn. You know what that means?”

Before his answer, a gloved hand reaches forth and palms the scrotum. The sac is tight and the testicles press against the thin pink flesh of the bottom. Above has been attached the adjustable device displayed in the Grand Counsel Chamber weeks before. The rollers serve to tension the scrotum and the balls. The counselor suppresses a smile of feminine control in sensing the high degree of vulnerability as the Baron shakes his head.

“It means that I will insert my special key and tighten the emasculator... one quarter turn. And you have realized, I am sure that, in time, with enough turns, your manly organs will pop. Your sac so well stressed that your balls surrender with no place to go except to yield to the Queens clever rollers. It’s a curious phenomenon, Baron, popping a man’s balls. They actually do make a sound, a meek noise. I think of it has a last cry for mercy before being permanently rendered useless.”

A smile escapes as the counselor notes that her patient shivers within his bonds.

“Yes. You’re to be castrated, Baron. Very, very slowly. The emasculator is never loosened... only tightened. In a number months... perhaps in a year... maybe more... you will find yourself neutered. Your task will be to delay the event as long as possible. And in doing so, you’re going to learn to be quite the servant to the Baroness. Yes, meek and docile... with or without your testicles.”

Sitting to the Baron’s right, the fingers of a gloved left hand work into the gluteal cleft. With the weeks of complete chastity the touch seems strangely good. The digits glide about and it is evident that lubrication is applied.

“Now, I have much experience in encouraging a man to perform adequate oral service. I have him well tethered and lie him tummy down, his face over a large bowl of ice cold water. Then I press his face into it, cutting off air, just long enough to make a proper impression. Then I offer the quim of some wretched menstruating serving girl... the most loathsome love nest in the household. If the tongue is not humbly offered, the head goes back into the bowl. Then, with breath depleted, the quim is offered again. If again no compliance, it’s back into the bowl. I can have a man quickly servicing the most sloppy of vaginas.”

The fingers of the right hand oh so gently diddle the Baron’s standing penis. It waggles with fervor, seeming to wave in greeting her touch. In being thoroughly bound, strapped within the harness, it appears to be the only anatomical part able to move.

“Behavior modification. It’s what I do.”

An index finger curls, the tip caressing the underside of the penis tip. The woman knows the male organs, readily finding the most sensitive of erogenous zones. Meanwhile the digits of her left hand begin to penetrate the rectum. The counselor notes there is resistance and smiles, knowing that with frequent future visits the Baron will not only be opened, but welcome her expert prostatic massage.

“There’s another indiscretion listed in your report, Baron. To earn you a full half turn of the emasculator. It seems one of the Queen’s breeders visited your home. The Baroness was in need of real male companionship. It is a woman’s prerogative under the decree of gynecocracy.”

“He fucked my wife!” the Baron cries out in frustration.

“Yes, he and the other breeders of the Queen are so empowered... at the Baroness’s request and with her concurrence, or course. They are marvelously well equipped where a woman most enjoys size and are skilled lovers. The Baroness indicated she was quite satisfied with his performance. Oral satiation does not always suffice, Baron. A woman deserves penetration from a good sized, well trained cock from time to time. Yours is kept locked up by Royal mandate... besides being of questionable proficiency.”

“She made me watch!”

“Yes, you were cuckolded. And will be regularly. Many women enjoy the sense of empowerment such offers. And in a gynecocracy what a woman enjoys she shall have.”

Despite the rage, the Baron’s penis quivers with delight. The counselor is an expert masturbatrix, her touch most tantalizing to the otherwise chaste organ. And two fingers of the left hand have found the prostate. The Baron first lurches then softly moans with joy.

“You’ll become accustomed to having a breeder visit. But you must, and will, offer proper greeting. The protocol is that you orally prepare the Baroness for copulation and then offer fellatio to the breeder... if he so desires. Then you will observe the Baroness have her pleasure and afterwards offer cleansing.... with your tongue of course... for both the breeder and the Baroness. Your one time refusal will get you a half turn. In the future a full turn. Is that clear Baron?”

The Baron’s naked form is flushed with rage. Yes, he was forced to watch the antics, bound in a kneeling position at the foot of the Baroness’s bed. Just hearing her pangs of pleasure was traumatic. But most disconcerting was noting the breeder’s skill. His final thrusts were steady and deep, expertly timing his climax with that of the Baroness. The Baron cannot help wondering whether a bastard child will result... one to be raised by him!

“And you should be aware Baron, that many of the breeders are polyamorous. They can give you a good fucking as well. Matter of fact, I may just recommend that to the Baroness along with my water bowl therapy to counter oral reluctance. Watching a man being sodomized can be quite entertaining.

“Now let’s get you drained. While I stroke, talk to me about your daughters. It must be quite thrilling for them to have you romping about the house naked and under the direction of the housemaids. I suspect they are enthralled with the notion of gynecocracy... or soon will be...”