Friday, October 29, 2010

Chapter Fifteen - Whisked to Chessu

Chapter Fifteen

“Come, 322."

Jay Blaine is no longer Jay Blaine. Anything that would identify him as such was left behind in Los Angeles. There are no papers. No tags. Not even something connected to his toe as one would find in the morgue. Only the set of digits gruffly inscribed on his buttocks by a most calloused woman of authority. And his handler comes to quickly use the diminutive last three digits.

After all, he must be referenced in some manner. 384322 is precise but unwieldy on the tongue. He is thus immediately anointed with the sobriquet ‘322'.

He cannot talk. He cannot proclaim himself as a person... ‘Jay Blaine... human being’. No the brank silences... and does so with thorough effectiveness.

The leash tightens. Though his training has been abridged, he knows to follow. And though he is inclined to take in the sights, it is best to focus... undertake complete focus... on she with leash in hand. A misstep can bring intense agony. Besides the view is not in any manner objectionable.

Still in being led from the cargo plane, during the flight standing with brank secured above just as in the truck, he was able to briefly view his surroundings before his leash was again secured overhead... to a curiously long hitching post where he stood in wait with his eight naked compatriots.

Chessu is arid. A desert in the shape of a vast bowl, encircled completely by the breathtakingly high mountains of the Himalaya range. Such a contrast standing in the desert heat and peering in the distance at snow capped mountains. But that is what makes Chessu Chessu. Complete inaccessibility to the outside world. Ancient mountain passes have long fallen into disuse. An airstrip offers access to rudimentary goods and equipment... the Empress insists on just the basics. But more importantly of late, the crude length of runway offers an egress for the priceless ore that has been discovered.

So the aging cargo plane brings in provisions... and naked servants... and flies out loaded with Rhodium ore, per ounce more valuable than gold or platinum. It has become the lifeblood of the Province. A once agrarian society has transformed. Able to purchase fertilizer and equipment, dig deeper the wells, less effort is needed to supply food. The many male beasts, naked and laboring in their slings, no longer need to spend inordinate time ploughing the rocky desert soil. Instead, they labor in the mine, the Empress eschewing too great a societal leap to modernity.

322 quickly concluded with a glimpse at what had been adequately described to him. Chessu is barren. Yet, as noted, in carefully following his handler, the viewing is acceptable.

“I am Midori, your handler. You are a gift from the Empress. Upon achieving womanhood, every girl in Chessu receives such a gift. Being of the common class, I am entitled to a beast. The girls of privilege, those not destined to work, are entitled to a castrate as well.”

The English is more than passable, the communication certainly better than the limited, halting words of the soldier. And 322 listens intently, his eyes affixed.

Midori wears a loose silk blouse. White with floral designs in crimson, such highlights her raven hair, parted in the middle, boyishly cut at the jaw line. She is young, pretty, her Asian heritage making it impossible to determine her age.

But for 322 it is not the blouse, the hair, the secret of her age that distracts. It is... the blouse is the limit of her attire. Handler Midori is otherwise naked, the white and crimson silk her only garment.

Transfixed, 322 steps carefully watching the shapely uncovered buttocks ripple and roll with each step. Her near nakedness, his weeks of chastity, the abundance of hormones, bring the expected male reaction. Despite the irritation and frustration of the brank, 322 feels himself stiffen.

“I will need to exercise you. I will work you hard. I earn my living by the pound. The more ore transported the more I make. Life is simple here in Chessu. But still there is more than labor and money for ore. You are also here to please.”

The voice is effeminate but the words stern. Midori pauses in her oration and turns to peer at her leashed beast. Her eyes glance downward. The sight brings a smile. 322 has offered his handler his first erection... deemed in Chessu to be most respectful.

The former Jay Blaine notes the girl’s reaction and the irony brings curious rumination, thoughts of a certain prison guard reacting so differently to a very similar display.

“You are aroused. That is good. The virile male works best. You may harden for me any time, 322. But as I am sure you are aware, you will never touch. It is not only forbidden, it will bring you pain.”

Midori steps forth, her free hand lowers and a single digit gently grazes the underside of the upturned erection. 322 grimaces with what feels like searing hotness. Midori diddles for another moment, transmitting her message, than her hand withdraws. She knows exactly where the male normally experiences pleasure and she also is very much aware of Dr. Saunders’ quick altering surgery and Nurse Wendy’s desensitizing acid baths.

“We are trained at a very young age to handle male beasts, 322. I used to have fun riding that which belonged to my mother. He was big and strong... and ultimately submitted completely to the culture of Chessu... as will you.”

Midori turns, 322 is pleased when she continues, the demonstration of the sensitivity of his penis... his altered sensitivity... trauma enough. Instead the buttocks roll again and 322 reenters his lustful revelry as her lecture resumes.

“It is best that you forever put aside thoughts of escape and resistance, 322. Other than the cargo plane, exit from Chessu is through the frigid mountains. Absent covering you would freeze in mere hours. And those caught are caned for the first attempt, neutered for the second and then relegated to the water pumping facility. Instead it is best that you just serve me... day after day after day.”


JHoltgym said...

this just gets better and better...
i really appreciate the deft manner in which you are handling 384322's objectification...
yes, a male in Chessu is not really human, but an animal...ergo, names (especially a previous identity) are superfluous to a male's function in this culture.
Yes, the full number is cumbersome used referentially, hence you anticipate and implement the diminutive "322"...lovely....
thanks for distinguishing that Midoori, a commoner, isn't allowed to without some justifiable reason castrate, ergo our poor (my) character will at least foreseably remain vital and chaste....
what I find so exciting/compelling about Chessu is that it is a self-contained Female Supremacist culture. While i've delighted in your depiction of Constancia Island or DNYL farm in Billy and Mary, they were in some ways (at least my perception) "FemDom summer camps"....
Chessu is much more ominous and extreme than that....after all, there is "no way out" and the males sent there are there, as you so nicely put it: forever.....
please continue at great great detail and suggested you were burnt out...i disagree...this is inspired stuff and maybe your best story to date...
love the grommeted cheeks and brank....the nostril stuff was a little repetitive, and i really like this new wrinkle....

JHoltgym said...

"Instead it is best that you just serve me... day after day after day.”

ready and waiting Mistress.........


JHoltgym said...

"Being of the common class, I am entitled to a beast."

and so shall eagerly looking forward to what comes (assuredly not

JHoltgym said...

"Instead it is best that you just serve me... day after day after day.”

oh yessssssssssssssssssssss

Chris Bellows said...

Calm youself, JHoltgym, otherwise you will be branked and leashed.



JHoltgym said...

"Calm youself, JHoltgym..."

oh if i could.....if i could, i would not, of course be sentenced to a lifetime of servitude as property of the Empress of will, of course, understand that however and oh so eternally i am leashed and whipped by Miss Midorri, i will always in my heart of hearts yearn for the implacable hand/whip of Madam Soohn....and Miss Saunders.....

> otherwise you will be branked

i already am, aren't i?

>and leashed.

aren't we all?