Chapter Thirteen - Whisked to Chessu

Tomorrow it's to Chessu. Really.

Chapter Thirteen

“A light breakfast, 384322. Today you’re going to Chessu... and full stomachs are not good.”

For the first and only time, Jay Blaine is sighted as a tending nurse assures sustenance. With holes in his cheeks, grommets left and right, food must be carefully ingested lest it ooze out during mastication. And so as he lies well bound, his new bands utilized, the nurse spoons a very moderate helping of mush and pushes it the very back of his mouth. There she pauses, holding the spoon in place as she offers the command to swallow, the porridge or whatever barely touching the tip of the tongue and avoiding most taste buds... but also not pressing through his new openings.

“I am told in Chessu they have a special feeding method for the beasts... faster... less assistance required,” the young nurse muses in passing the inordinate time required for each offering.

The demented mind of Jay Blaine marvels over the callousness of she trained in care and medicine. He lies completely naked, of course, his many stainless steel bands summarily clipped to sturdy rails attached to his hospital bed, essentially making him one with his place of rest. Binding requires mere moments, and the daintiest of fingers, and the young nurses do so without compunction... and with knowledge and experience which belies their few years. They have handled so many... and so dispassionately...

Dr. Saunders enters and Jay Blaine fidgets, her mere presence bringing trepidation.

“Ready for a little trip?” referring so flippantly to the final leg of Jay Blaine’s life transforming journey.

She holds up the brank, that which the day before penetrated Jay Blaine’s mouth and tongue and was used so convincingly to lead him about.

Jay Blaine stares, better able to assess the evilest yet simplest of bondage devices. Yes, it is nothing more than a strip of thin steel, not more than a foot in length, and gauged as that of a wire coat hanger. In slipping the knotted ends of a rope over each end, the thin bar becomes an amazingly effective bridle, forcing forth the tongue, which extends beyond the lips, and affording the bearer of the rope the most efficient leverage over the branked.

The doctor, in some psychological process of acclimatizing, holds forth the object and allows continuing inspection.

“Want to wear it for me?”

Jay Blaine shakes his head.

“No please.”

“Oh, but you did so well with it yesterday. Your penis got nice a firm for me. I think you enjoyed being directed by a woman.”

Deep within, Jay Blaine, having contemplated his reaction, must agree... and he curses himself. He does not want to be transformed to an obedient beast forced to do a woman’s bidding. But there is a side that does.

“Tongue.”

Uttered in firmness, by rote Jay Blaine obeys. Knowing hands work the brank into the left grommet, somewhat fidget to find the opening in his tongue, then press to slide the bar out the right grommet. Quicker than the evening before, Jay Blaine fends off a slight gagging reaction as his tongue is forcibly thrust well past his lips.

“Good. Gets quicker and easier every time. You’ll very soon learn to precisely position your tongue to accept the brank. They all do...”

Dr. Saunders steps away leaving the brank in place. Jay Blaine hears the snap of latex gloves.

“And I promised you a little gift. Something you will remember me by... but also practical.”

Dr. Saunders returns with a small stainless steel bowl. The fingers of a gloved hand hold up an open ring, one inch in diameter, well gauged, it matches the many bands restraining him to his bed.

“Your Prince Albert ring.”

Presented with such sang froid, that which will adorn a boy’s most prideful anatomy, Jay Blaine lurches, testing his many bonds as Dr. Saunders approaches. Having endured so many of her wicked procedures, he knows she will open his manhood without a moment of thought.

“No anesthesia. I want you to remember.”

Dr. Saunders sits on the side of the bed, reaches and casually grasps Jay Blaine’s sizable organ as if selecting a cucumber at a produce market. Her touch burns, the acid baths making the flesh continuously raw... a well cooked hot dog. He grimaces with the most modest of contact.

“Upon landing in Chessu you’ll be assigned a handler. She will get you in shape and train you. Then you’ll be worked... for the rest of your life.’

Tears form as the left hand encircles the shaft just below the tip, thumb and index finger pressing to better present the urethral opening. Dr. Saunders works as she speaks, opening the male organ as commonplace and challenging as making a cup of coffee.

“She’ll be young. The Empress presents the gift of a beast upon attaining womanhood.”

Another curved needle appears, this one shorter, and Jay Blaine helplessly watches as the doctor inserts it into the urethra then aloofly presses as he emits a muffled howl, the brank seconding as an effective gag.

“Yes, she’ll be young but experienced. The girls in Chessu grow up in a very strict female dominant culture. As you know, at birth they put all male children up for adoption, a very lucrative market in China for male babies.”

The needle exits the underside of the penis tip just about where Dr. Saunders excised the sensitive flesh many days before.

“So be respectful... and obedient... and work hard. Your handler will know exactly how to extract your best efforts. And you will become very eager to offer such.”

The open ring is slipped into the opening, Jay Blaine’s suppressed cries for mercy completely ignored. But there does come a sense of relief as she releases her grip, the excoriated penile flesh abraded no longer.

“No need to solder this close, it will be about the last thing you will want to remove. You’ll see.”

With that, pliers similar to those used by Moira, smaller, grip the newly inserted ring. Firmly pressing, the tongs slowly close the loop, adorning Jay Blaine with his Prince Albert offering... his gift.

“Yes, the last thing you’ll want is someone touching your penis. Now the ring can be used instead.”