Chapter Seventeen - Whisked to Chessu

A slight change made 10/31/10 at 12:45 p.m. EDT

Chapter Seventeen

322 finds the empty cart inordinately ponderous. The planks forming the storage box are thick, quite adequate for the transport of heavy ore. And so as Midori stands to the front facing her beast and slowly takes in the slack, the well bound naked form digs in his feet and pulls. Incredibly, his own action tightens the sling, further tensioning his scrotum. It seems he will be pulling the cart by his balls! But then, in continuing to pull, the slack in the short chains securing his waist band to the prongs is taken in and the force transfers to his lower torso.

“Come my beast, pull,” a smiling Midori encourages, offering a slight jostle, knowing a full out tug can bring agony.

The wheels finally turn. Momentum becomes an ally and 322 surprises himself as the cart rolls. And though there is stress on the sling, it is strangely acceptable with the pulling motion seeming to cause his penis to jut forth even further... and bring more stiffness!

“Good boy!” a gushing Midori exclaims, swishing the nasty swamp grass through the air as a reminder.

Step, step, step, Midori moves backwards and 322 follows, knowing to keep his leash slack. His eyes roam... to Midori’s uncovered thighs. Her mons, hairless, flashes hints of pink labia. As stated, age is difficult to ascertain, but 322 concludes the girl, his Master, she who controls all, cannot be much past puberty.

How was it explained... the girls of Chessu are gifted with a beast upon achieving womanhood?

His glance becomes a notable stare, pulling as his eyes remain glued to her thighs, hoping for more flashes of pink, the many weeks of forced chastity mandating the diversion.

Midori smiles, noting the brash behavior. Having controlled beasts since childhood, she very much understands. The lust that fosters the need for eidetic satisfaction will be transformed... to labor... sweat... endless toil... to moving a mountain of craggy ore to a distant airstrip.

“You can look all you desire, 322,” her beast feeling his heart skip a beat with her offering of visual gratification.

With that, Midori stops, lowering her leash hand and tendering slack. Her smile transforms, becoming devilish, as she parts her feet to better display the thick meaty flesh of her outer labia. Thumb and index finger quickly splay, flashing the deeper pink of the opening of her love pouch.

“And you will taste as well. Chessu is a very arid province. You will come to crave moisture even from the most unsettling of sources.”

Midori chuckles watching the eyes of her beast widen in desire. Then she releases her lips, turns and resumes her slow walk, the feet of 322 scrambling to assure he timely follows.

She walks him in circles around and around the hut, renewing the atrophied muscle tone of her kept beast, freely offering her well rounded globes for more visual stimulation.

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Exhausted, drenched with sweat, 322 cannot imagine toiling for an entire day... and with a loaded cart. As dusk approaches, Midori finally returns the cart to the starting point and releases the short chains of the waist band and then unbuckles the sling. 322 is then led to the rear of the hut where a simple pole awaits. 322 notes there are three horizontal boards attached... just above the neck, just above the waist, just above the ankles.

“Can you feel your sling tighten as it wets. As you labor in harness, your own perspiration will cause it to slowly shrink. Wonderfully ironic, don’t you think?”

Yes, the testicles do feel more entrapped, 332 thinks to himself.

“Down,” Midori instructs with a slight tug.

322 instantly falls to his knees, the pole to his rear.

“This is where you will sleep... when I want you to sleep.”

The ankle bands are clipped, right then left, to the lower horizontal board attached to the pole some one foot above the ground. Midori then loops the leash to a hook on the pole above, forcing 322 to maintain a kneeling position, all weight borne by his knees.

It is an awkward and frustrating position, 322's wrists remaining clipped together at the shoulder blades. He balances precariously, keeping slack on the leash and not daring to topple as Midori works to remove the sling. Reversing the earlier steps, the length of leather is slipped away from the waist band at the back. Then the balls are pressed through the slit and dangle freely between parted thighs as the excoriated penis is likewise pressed through its slit... much more carefully.

Then Mdiori disappears into the hut. She returns with a container, a cylinder appearing as a canister of caulking material. Protruding from one end is a broad, soft rubber tube.

“Feeding time my beast. It is quicker if the brank remains in place.”

With that, Midori pinches closed the nostrils. When 322 parts his lips to breathe, she inserts the soft rubber tube, pressing with her fingers and feeding the length of rubber to the back of the throat. With tongue encumbered, 322 cannot reject the offering, and the fingers continually press inward. She cruelly feeds in the tube, ignoring his gagging. 322 recalls the gastric tube inserted before being shipped. It is a horrible sensation, but he is helpless to resist.

Satisfied, Midori works a flat disk at the opposing end of the canister, pressing toward his mouth. 322 feels sludge being directly introduced to his stomach.

“Highly nutritious, but it is just as well that you cannot taste it. Chessu’s special mush for the beasts. Every table scrap in the province is collected, allowed to putrefy and then blended into a glop. Vitamins are added and then it’s placed in these special containers. It is all you will ever eat 322. Enjoy. Effectively its our garbage... edible garbage... but garbage.”

Midori laughs at the reaction of horror as the sludge slithers inward directly to his stomach. He has no choice but to partake. The brank inhibits resisting anything introduced to the throat.

Coming to the end, Midori slips out the tube.

“And now you will simply kneel. In time I will let you lie. But not right now. It’s part of the training... tolerating the caprice of your handler. You will never know when you will sleep and for how long. It’s the way we do things here.”