Chapter Nine - Whisked to Chessu

Chapter Nine

Degloving! Acid bath? Brank?

Adding to the slow physical torment of stretching is the mental torment of contemplating Dr. Saunders' described prospective procedures.

Jay Blaine begins to count the turns of the rachet wheel, apprehensive concerning what the next day will bring. One for every thirty minutes, he loses track at 19 or 20. To occupy his mind he beseeches a young nurse as she dutifully holds a rectal thermometer in place.

“Degloving?” he prompts.

The nurse titters. She is young and the thought amuses.

“Oh you boys are so sensitive... it’s only a little piece skin. Not much larger than that covering your thumb. Dr. Saunders has a marvelous collection... displayed in her office in jars of formaldehyde. Think of it as an extreme circumcision."

“But it’s where... it’s where... “

“Where your hands will no longer need to play,” the nurse lectures in sliding the instrument from his rectum.

“Calm yourself, Mr. Blaine. There is nothing you can do. You are under our governance... and we will alter you as the Empress sees fit. I think the brank should be of more concern. It imbues such intense physical control... total... you’ll soon be eagerly responding to the gentlest of directing tugs.

“Someday I will visit Chessu and have a boy like you under leash. The brank is delicious!”

With such enthusiasm for female superiority, Jay Blaine finds no comfort in the conversation, his thoughts segueing to the marks left on his cheeks.... and then to acid baths.

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Sleep finally overcame, and Jay Blaine, now somehow able to slumber despite the frequent turns of the ratchet wheel, stirs as he again feels a latex glove palpating his penis. When he feels a stab of pain he shrieks, surprising himself.

“Just a little novocaine... then some little incisions... then some sutures. It will be all over in a few minutes,” Dr. Saunders advises, as one would comfort a child

The tone of voice soothes, the choice of words do not.

“You’re a good boy so I won’t make you watch. Very obedient. Some need a lesson, so I make them observe while a woman reshapes the vaunted male organ. It is something they won’t forget...”

Jay Blaine can feel some manipulation despite the desensitizing injection. The woman cruelly cuts as she orates. Such brazenness!

Then he feels the flesh about his penis tighten. She sutures and he finds it is true. The procedure removing his most sensitive flesh requires mere moments.

“A couple of days to heal, and the acid baths will begin. We’ll have this joystick of yours never again offering joy... at least not for you.”

Jay Blaine hears the disposal of scalpel, hypodermic needle and sutures, implements plunked into a metal dish.

“And another little trophy for my collection.”

He pictures the doctor pridefully holding up her prize, that which spurred such lustful stroking, that frictioned so fervently... the catalyst for such wasteful, sordid displays of virility.

And now it is over.

“And tomorrow your brank, Mr. Blaine. Enjoy your last meal. Thereafter it is mush for you.”

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“We’ll not put you under... just a little something to calm you. But I will keep you blindfolded. I’ll want the first thing you see to be my smiling face as I test your leash.”

Dr. Saunders’ normally knowing confident voice is tinged with wickedness as she injects the buttocks. Then the hands tie a blindfold over the hood, for good measure, as it needs to be rolled up... access required to where she left her marks two days before.

Dr. Saunders’ pen left symmetrical dots in the left cheek and right, in the meatus just under the cheek bone.

“Grommets, Mr. Blaine. Permanent openings here and here. A little unorthodox, but you’ll soon learn of the advantage. Particularly after I impale your tongue with a transverse opening. The brank will enter the right grommet, be thrust through your tongue and exit the left grommet. Inserted every morning when you are worked... removed every evening while your are rested... you’re going to be one obedient beast.”

No longer does Jay Blaine shudder in contemplating a superior woman’s authority. Instead there come outright convulsions, not only fully understanding the planned alteration but the woman's resolve as well.

"Calm yourself. There’s nothing you can do... easy... easy.... that’s it just relax."

The drug works quickly. Jay Blaine feels his mouth pried open. A strange device is inserted, pinching the left cheek. It clicks. There comes an instant stab of pain. A smiling doctor withdraws, the grommet gun instantly piercing to leave a circle of metal not quite a centimeter in diameter.

“Good boy. Your going to look very pretty. Just like all my other Chessu boys.”

The mouth is pried open again. Jay Blaine cannot resist. The drug... it almost brings paralysis.

Then the device pinches the right cheek and clicks again, a second grommet joining the left.

“Ok. Now that the relaxant is fully circulated, let’s have that nice long tongue of yours... a boy’s most admired sex organ,” Dr. Saunders quips.

Jay Blaine is amazed as he feels his tongue almost exit his mouth. The relaxant obviates the natural reaction to pull back. Instead the pink appendage seems to unravel, a fishing line facilely dispensed from its reel.

“When you’re branked, I’ll want as much tongue exposed as possible... it makes for such demeaning presentation, don’t you think?”

Dr. Saunders retrieves an extremely long curved needle. It is now that her surgical skills are tested, piercing the tongue well back on the right side and slowly... most painfully... working the needle through and across... penetrating the strong muscling. Jay Blaine gives out another shriek, this one well muffled, the doctor relentlessly working. It is evident she has branked many a Chessu beast.

“Yes... just relax... let Dr. Saunders make her alterations. Make you a nice strong obedient beast for the Empress. When I am done you’ll need to bear a nasty little bar while the opening heals and becomes permanent, but I think a well bound boy will just lie and heal for the good doctor.”

Her words, meant to distract, adequately describe the process. Jay Blaine’s tongue will forever bear an opening... and await the controlling brank of a woman.