Sunday, October 3, 2010

Chapter Twenty Five

Part Two

Brandy’s Story

Chapter Twenty Five

Tony enjoyed mornings. I permitted him to shower with me and invariably he spent most of shower time on his knees carefully swabbing a soft and soapy cloth over those areas he had so attentively serviced with his tongue the evening before.

And when finished, he was permitted the same privilege with Pat. His infibulating wire was thoroughly tested once again.

Johnnie had coffee waiting in my office where calls to and from the east coast and Europe began early in the day. Madam had also arisen early and I spied her sitting upon the white stallion. I wondered whether she utilized the special attachment on the front of the saddle as did most of the other guests.

About an hour into the work day my curiosity was piqued when a van lumbered to the front gate. The drive from the main road was close to a half mile on scrabble, deliberately kept rough and uneven to deter unwanted visitors casually stumbling upon our singularly licentious operation. So I watched the activity from my office.

The Madam guided her horse to the front yard and addressed Pat as she exited the front door to investigate. Yes, I had forgotten Madam’s offer of equipment. Pat clicked the remote control to open the gate. Two men lowered the tail gate of the truck. Cartons were unloaded with Madam talking and pointing, instructing the men to leave the cargo in the front yard. Lastly both men momentarily disappeared into the rear of the truck then rolled a heavy vehicle down the ramp. It was an ox cart! Thick boards formed a box resting atop a pair of crude wooden wheels. Two shafts emanated from the front, too close together to hitch an ox.

Pat looked at her watch and hurriedly signed papers. Dolly would soon be running our herd of naked boys. She dispatched the deliverymen to the barks of our eager sheep dog working behind the house to assemble my growing herd of smooth rounded buttocks and hairless genitals flopping about with every step. Madam spurred the stallion and cantered to the rear door. She returned within minutes with Erma and the masturbator in tow, his striped buttocks in surprisingly good condition in view of Madam’s thorough flogging.

Erma opened the cartons. Inside were leather straps and harnesses and the masturbator found himself being adorned with a heavy leather waist belt and rudimentary bridle. Within minutes our masturbator was standing between the shafts of the cart. Madam gave instructions pointing with a hand wielding a whip and was very particular concerning a curious length of leather which she had Erma attach to the back of the waist belt. It was a type of sling and as Erma had the masturbator lean well over, she gripped his scrotum, tucked his gonads through a slit in the leather and then drew up the free end to attach to the waist belt. Madam pointed and spoke, her words evidently directing Erma to tighten the ends where the sling was secured to the waist belt just over the middle of each buttock. As she cinched, our masturbator winced and the utility of the restraint became apparent. Two pink testicles came into view just below the anus, pulled back between the boy’s buttocks and providing the supervising female with not only an amusing view of his exposed and vulnerable eggs, but easy access should some form of correction be required.

Madam demonstrated the assailability to Pat and Erma by reaching out with her whip hand and caressing the sensitive pink pouch with the end of the whip. So nicely presented within the leather, the Masturbator jumped, realizing the vulnerability of his gonads. His reaction brought laughter from the three women.

Erma lifted the shafts and attached each, left and right, to clasps on the waist belt at the boy’s hips. Reins were clipped unto the bridle and handed to Madam. She spurred the horse to move to the front then flicked the whip, cracking the strand of leather incredibly close to the masturbator’s penis. He lurched in shock. When Madam turned the horse to saunter toward one of the numerous bridle paths, she tugged on the reins. The masturbator dug in and began to pull the heavy cart with alacrity. He had experienced enough of the Asian woman’s whip. Though straining, he became most obedient in following the commanding tugs of a woman.

Pat and Erma watched with a smile and I too felt sanguine seeing the boy put to good use. Just as I had fallen asleep the evening before, I again envisioned life in Chessu. The heavy ox cart was so gothic and the masturbator looked so deliciously subservient trussed in leather with muscles endeavoring to avoid more snaps of Madam’s whip. I imagined fields being ploughed with teams of naked males being whipped unmercifully under the hot sun..., other boys hauling carts similar to the masturbator’s but even heavier in being laden with food..., still others tethered to dog carts transporting young women with whip wielding hands.

Though early in the day I summoned Tony and had him kneel under my desk.

Erma left the front yard to exercise Hector. He no longer ran with the other boys. Instead Erma walked him about on all fours while tapping away at his dangling testicles to ensure proper canine deportment. She had great fun making him turn up one knee in order to urinate on the few bushes at the arid ranch. He was most careful doing so around the cacti.

Pat entered the office and we talked about the need to find blond twins boys of a suitable age for Madam.

“The Judge will sign anything,” Pat reminded me. “Requesting a favor of him may require further stretching of Johnnie’s rectum, but I’m sure Erma won’t mind if we arrange a special weekend for the old reprobate. I bet Dr. Ann is not the only psychologist for whom he signs papers.”

I had not before considered that aspect. As productive as Ann was in locating candidates, the Judge had connections at many more institutions and his motivations and needs were easily understood and accommodated.

With Tony licking away under my desk, another thought crossed my mind.

“Yes, Pat. We can throw Tony in with the deal. Just hope the old guy doesn’t have a heart attack.”

We laughed at the notion of the noted jurist dying in such a compromising yet rapturous manner, two feminized teens serving his every whim.

I picked up the phone. Despite his busy schedule, the Judge always accepted my calls. In my experience, prurience trumped civic duty on every occasion.

He chuckled when I described my needs.

“So you’re going to have Mom slice ‘em young,” his voice rising with exuberance. “I’m sure there are some juvenile offenders that fit the description. If not I’ll just create some. The rules of evidence are rather lax in family court. I can put ‘em in a home until they reach their majority for something as simple as the alleged shoplifting of a candy bar..., and I have.”

The Judge laughed, enjoying visions of his own power. His abuse of authority was diabolically unfair and I smiled at my end of the phone line. Then I cooed to him in my sultriest voice..., describing the things that Johnnie and Tony would do when the Judge next visited The Anguished E with blond twins in tow. His end of the line went silent for a moment and though I could not detect the sound of a zipper, I could well imagine the response of his fingers.

“Give me a few days.”

I bid adieu and hung up. The phone immediately rang. It was Mother.

“I was talking to Ann and we both agree Hector is ready for the next stage. I’m going to begin some alterations on Saturday so tell Jackie he won’t be unavailable for the day and will be a little sore on Sunday.”

Mom described the envisioned procedures. Hector would have his vocal cords sutured and, in what Mom described as an experiment, his fingers and thumbs would likewise be surgically rendered useless, carefully opening up the epidermis with a scalpel and meticulously sewing the digits together. As the openings healed, his hands would become webbed.

I suppose afterwards there would be some way for a naughty Hector to stroke himself, but if so, it would be very amusing to watch.

After more paper work, Madam Soong entered. She appeared most invigorated by her morning ride with the masturbator in tow, laboring in harness.

“He’s perfect, Brandy. Needs to develop some muscling before sending him off to Chessu, otherwise the girls there will completely excoriate his flesh before he has a chance to strengthen.

“Let’s make it short. Shall we say $50,000 plus your Mom’s penectomy fee and regular charges for room and board while he’s exercised and trained for the ox cart?”

How could I say ‘No’?

Mom had a busy Saturday, shortening the masturbator, for sure the former masturbator, down to the one inch stub marked on the shaft by our regal guest. Through experience the Madam knew to leave just enough so he would not require diapering, such covering being deemed unsightly in a province where male covering consisted mainly of restraining leather straps and harnesses. The masturbator watched in horror and I often wondered whether the reaction was due to the actual loss of the appendage or the humiliation of having it done by a woman at another woman’s behest.

Hector’s vocal cords were quickly tied off but much time was taken to meticulously suture together his fingers with his thumb sewn across the palm to completely preclude his ability to grip forbidden objects..., such as his penis.

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