Another story

Despite the reluctance of many to comment, I will graciously continue to offer stuff.

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Copyright 2010

By Chris Bellows

“You’re sick!”

“No, I am wealthy. That means the more apt term is that I am eccentric,” the calm voice tending to soothe.

The pithy response is accompanied by a smile and the fondling hand does not pause. The boy attains more inkling as to his circumstances, derogatory words not staying the woman from her unbounded inspection. The cradling of his testicles prompted the expletive, fingers nestling beneath, her thumb smoothing over the top of the scrotum to judge the firmness and general wholesomeness of the male reproductive organs.

“Very nice. A good set of balls,” she casually proclaims, “though they seem to affect diction... and manners.”

The hand moves to the penis and slowly draws the organ straight out. It is a brazen gesture, nothing more than a blatant maneuver to determine length. The smile broadens as the shaft twitches and the hand withdraws. The woman steps back. Her smile fails to diminish in gazing at the well tethered youthful male figure... save for wrist and ankle cuffs his complete nakedness seeming to radiate under the bright lights.

“The charge?”

“Drunk, disorderly, indecent exposure,” the nearby officer solemnly replies as if to a presiding judge.

“Excellent... exposure. Very telling. Well you can take this one off your docket. We’ll once again save the county the cost of trial and incarceration. Do give my regards to her honor.”

The woman hands over an envelope. The officer accepts, no semblance of masking the outright bribe.

“You’ll have him brought to me in the morning, as usual? I’ll leave some restraints and a hood.”

The officer nods. The woman turns to step away.

“What’s this all about, bitch?”

“Well, well, indecent exposure... and an indecent mouth. Do restrain him standing for the night. Tomorrow he’ll be more receptive to lessons of etiquette,” the intonation most ominous.

The officer smiles. The woman notes that despite the rambunctious words her acquisition quakes, her firm instructions finally engendering the gravity of his situation... his vulnerability. The indication of fear brings laughter... demonic laughter.

The boy outright shudders... as he should.

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Born into a middle class but well educated family, Audrey Meredith Darrows lived many years a normal life... school... boys... athletics... college. She excelled. Competitive, she thrived in the classroom, tried every sport, shrank from no challenge... including medical school.

A high paid vocation as an accomplished surgeon, events... accomplishments... even the loftiest goals brought attainment... every objective achieved with success... except one.

At what seemed to be the pinnacle of her life, Dr. Audrey Meredith Darrows failed to marry.

A joint announcement issued by a seemingly prototypical couple, ended the planned betrothal... graciously... but unexplainedly.

Thereafter life changed for Dr. Audrey Meredith Darrows. For the better?

Months after the wedding cancellation, a wealthy relative died, a great aunt. Skipping over, ignoring other estranged relatives, word of Dr. Audrey Meredith Darrows’ enviable success in life engendering appeal, there was fostered the gravitational pull of success and money, bestowing a massive inheritance on Dr. Darrows.

What to do?

Love life shattered, a singular failure with cause left to speculation, attention to the rigors of precision surgery waned. Uninspired, curing the ills of the world no longer brought satisfaction.

Dressing one morning, Dr. Audrey Meredith Darrows looked in the mirror. Noted were youth remaining, athletic shapeliness yielding to neither time nor gravity, and a nearby cell phone. The latter empowered, used to cancel first the morning appointments... then the day’s appointments... then life’s appointments. She quit. Self emancipation ensued.

Yes, it dawned... wealthy... knowledgeable... alluring... yet jaded and unhappy. She changed her existence.

Dr. Audrey Meredith Darrows retired from the medical profession, her life to become transformed, more deeds inexplicable.

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“What are you doing to me, you bitch!” the voice loud, aggressive, boisterous.

“Tsk, tsk, Gregory. You’ll wear out your vocal cords, and with little result. Being hooded, you did not notice where you’ve been taken. And that you’ll not fully ascertain until I... until you’re made ready.

“But you’re in my barn... on a very secluded farm. It’s more than a mile over the hill to the main road. In the other direction there is another mile or two of my land, then a forest preserve owned by the State of West Virginia, with even fewer people, thicker trees and less accessible terrain. So it is unlikely any one but us will hear you... hear your protestations. And I think you’ll soon learn such have little effect.”

As Dr. Darrows speaks, she prepares various implements on a steel tray.

“I need to lie down!” come more words too loud, the well secured figure standing bent at the waist.

“And you shall... when I decide. It’s a paradigm to which you will need to become accustomed. It is best for you. Here I govern.”

“What is this, a dungeon?” young Gregory rolling about his eyes, his neck and wrists encased in thick wooden planks, holding his head immobile.

“You’re held in one of many stalls in my barn, converted... less now a shelter for equine and bovine creatures than for other... beasts.”

A left hand, gloved in the latex of the surgeon she once was, reaches forth to locks of hair long askew, the fingers entwining.

“Do try not to move. Overall, this can offer little aggravation if you don’t resist.”

“What is it? What are you doing?”

“So loud...” comes an unresponsive reply as the right hand approaches.

Into the right nostril there is introduced a soft flexible rubber tube. Fingers dextrously push, within seconds meeting the resistance of the sinus cavity.

“No!”

The utterance, more of shock and denial than protest, brings a smile. Neck and wrists firmly encased between two thick, smooth well worn planks, the reference to a dungeon is appropriate, the good doctor having acquired ancient yet effective stocks.

There comes the dawning of reality... Dr. Audrey Meredith Darrows can do whatever she pleases... and the deafening shouts will not deafen the deaf... the aloof... the callous.

Both Gregory and the doctor sense the slight pop as the right nostril yields and the tube enters the sinus cavity. It brings a grimace from the bound, and realization for Dr. Darrows.

“Now it is best to hold still. I can be quick and relatively painless for good boys.”

The left hand releases and quickly moves to the tray. Forceps, rubber coated, glistening with lubricant, such are introduced to the left nostril, bringing forth a nasal groan. But also a notable display of skill, as the prongs also enter the sinus cavity and quickly snare the end of the tube within.

“Arrrrghhhh,” comes the expected reaction as the forceps retreat, drawing the tube down the left nostril.

“You’re a good boy. And good boys get to lie down. Just as soon as the polymers and adhesive cure and dry,” the words cooed... a mother reassuring a distraught child.

As she speaks the hands and fingers rapidly work, snipping the tube to shorten and form an upside down ‘U’, the ends dangling at the lips. The point of a large syringe invaginates one end, the plunger pressed to introduce the aforementioned polymers into the tube. Smoothly, with a surgeon’s speed and precision, the tube fills, within seconds a small dollop of the substance exiting the opposing end.

The syringe returns to the tray and a small perfectly sized cylinder of solid rubber is inserted to connect the loose ends. Then the fingers work with a powerful dental adhesive to assure the ends of the tube bond to form an ellipse which penetrates the sinuses.

The doctor smiles, her professional look of complacency bringing curious calm as her fingers hold together the tube ends. The formulation of the polymers will somewhat harden the loop, and make it quite durable to stress... a very important attribute. She finds that Gregory’s naivety amuses, for he will soon learn of the gravity of his nasal modification. When cured and dried, he will find that the amazing compound, filling the otherwise smooth and soft tube, transforms it to the equivalent of a ring of hardened steel, its tensile strength noteworthy.

“Why are you doing this?” the voice now more beseeching than provocative.

“Because I can.”

The fingers continue to hold together the tube ends as a large woman of color momentarily steps within view.

“This one likes to expose himself, Vocinda. Strip him down, begin the depilation. If he’s good, lower the stocks and let him lie down for a while. I suspect he spent the night cuffed to the bars of his cell in a standing position,” amused in knowing that he was made to do so under her orders.

Compounds dried, the gloved left hand tousles the hair then the doctor steps out of sight. Gregory’s peripheral vision, the large planks impeding, limits his view of the woman accepting the instructions. But he does feel her hands and hears the tearing of clothing.

Well tethered wrists, ankles cuffed as well, will not inhibit the removal of his clothing... all his clothing. Every garment is ripped, shredded actually, the large woman seeming to handle boys with energetic glee.

Yes, once again he is stripped naked... to be exposed.

For what purpose?