Saturday, October 2, 2010

Chapter Twenty Four

Part Two

Brandy’s Story

Chapter Twenty Four

Pat sodomized Tony well into the night while I benefitted from a tongue with unsurpassed strength, stamina and skill. Pat’s harness not only held in place the hideously large dildo penetrating Tony’s stretched sphincter, but mounted beneath were clever rubber objects designed to ensure that Pat enjoyed every firm thrust of her hips.

Yes, each lunge not only produced a luscious grimace of pain from Tony but also caused a clever spindle to caress Pat’s clitoris and a larger custom designed phallus to friction her vagina. So she had great incentive to provide Tony with a thorough reaming, completely ignoring his pleas as his end of the dildo pressured his prostate and resulted in unwanted tumescence. And of course being in the presence of two beautiful unclothed women also served to spur arousal, not to mention that his face was deeply buried between my thighs.

I also enjoyed watching my athletic companion work her muscles to produce such delightful results, pain for Tony, pleasure for herself and marvelous tongue work for me.

After two dozen thrusts, Tony’s anguish overwhelmed him. He could not concentrate on serving my sex while his turgid manhood pressed against the thin infibulating wire. So it was not pity that caused me to suggest Pat stop for the ice, it was the need to continue the satisfaction of my own lust.

“I guess it’s time, Pat. He’s blubbering more than licking.”

Pat pulled back and I was always amazed to watch the huge length of rubber slowly withdraw. The special bump designed to pressure Tony’s prostate finally exited as his anus wrapped about the shaft as if kissing it.

The wine bucket was not for the Chardonnay. It was for Tony and Pat retrieved it while Tony was again able to concentrate and resume licking. His lips surrounded my clitoral hood and he lurched as Pat placed the cold bucket between his thighs then callously plunked his freed testicles into the icy depths.

“His penis is dripping already,” Pat noted, taking the time to place a towel on the floor and drape the leaking penis tip over the edge of the bucket.

Tony’s organs numbed. Unfortunately the cold would serve to alleviate the exquisite pain he felt while Pat took her pleasure from him and his tongue serviced me. But the procedure was necessary. I had decided to terminate the prostate massage which Annika afforded Tony. It was too pleasurable. So Pat and I milked him in the most ignominious manner, forcing the buildup of semen from his system by sodomizing him once or twice per month. Though in icing him it stemmed the pain, there was also no pleasure. His only joy would be the privilege of servicing me and knowing that his backside was also a source of pleasure for Pat.

Pat introduced the dildo again and plunged it deeply into Tony’s rectum. She resumed as did my journey into bliss.

I enjoyed watching Pat. Over the years I was jaded about looking at the female body of beautiful models. Pat was different. She had great physical power and she used it on subordinate males so well...her muscles rippled and her firm breasts barely moved.

Another dozen or so thrusts and Pat was grunting loudly, working her way to both clitoral and vaginal orgasms. Meanwhile Tony was sucking strongly and circling my own clitoris with his tireless tongue. Knowing Pat was approaching ecstasy brought on my own. We climaxed together laughing like school girls. As trained, Tony remained motionless, barely breathing, until I tapped his head as a signal to withdraw.

Pat also withdrew and we left Tony with his gonads resting in the ice bucket while we casually poured refreshing glasses of wine.

“He takes to the strap on like a cheap whore,” Pat observed with a giggle.

I had to nod in agreement. Had Tony been born a female he would indeed make his living by spreading his legs.

We sipped and I inspected, pulling Tony’s upper torso off the bed while he remained kneeling over the bucket. The towel beneath was a gooey mess. Pat’s efforts had thoroughly emptied Tony of his seed. And most notably, he had not felt a thing.

I drew back Tony’s arms and clipped his elbow bands together, enhancing his feeling of subservience and immobilizing his hands. Though tired, Pat and I would frolic until dawn and I did not wish wandering fingers to distract.

We talked about the vivid display in the correction room and the offer to be made on the masturbator. The glow of our sexual release eventually began to subside and we prepared for bed. Pat pulled Tony from his kneeling position, took him into the bathroom and held his penis while he relieved himself. I had not allowed him to perform that function unsupervised since arriving at the ranch. It was marvelously humiliating to mandate feminine assistance in such a simple intimate function. The first few times Tony could not summon a flow and it resulted in Pat playfully pressing against his bladder while making the sibilant sounds of a young mother encouraging a child to urinate.

Returning to the bedroom, Pat resecured Tony’s testicle chains.

“His scrotum is still stretching,” she noted taking in another loop to maintain proper tension.

She clipped Tony’s ankle bands together, then pushed him over onto the bed. Unable to move arms or legs, he comically toppled like a felled tree, helpless to stop his fall. I positioned him where his mouth and tongue could do the most good while Pat and I snuggled.

When Pat turned off the lights, Tony was humbly paying tribute to my buttocks. I welcomed Pat’s firm body as it slid onto the mattress beside me. Her lips suckled my breasts as Tony moved closer and closer to the rose bud of my rear aperture.

It was a wondrous evening. As I approached somnolence the visions of Madam Soong flogging the masturbator flashed through my mind. Dreams about Chessu cascaded. Slight, leather-booted Asian women wielded long whips. Naked males served and suffered.

I recalled part of the long afternoon conversation with Madam Soong.

“If you can obtain twins, blond and blue eyed, I can assure you that I am authorized to be most extravagant.”

Her narrative of explanation was fascinating. The old Emperor, a mere titular ruler, was a sinecure who was denied contact with females. The Empress, thirty years younger, refused him carnal relations deeming such to be a heretical example to set for the province of dominant women.

“How can I lead if my subjects know I am submitting to the disgusting male penis in the palace bedroom,” Madam quoted her as saying.

And the Empress was certainly not going to allow him the female companionship of a concubine. That would be even more demeaning. And yet his sperm was needed for procreation.

So, a bevy of castrates were trained to collect the regal male essence by offering any aperture of the Emperor’s liking to arouse his prurient interest.

“We alter them young and they stay most effeminate,” the Madam explained. “But still the Empress demands new youth in order to maintain the Emperor’s interest..., thus my request. And controlling identical twins is considered to be a display of potency..., blond and blue eyed as I suggested, such are rarely seen in China. When the Empress parades them outside the palace leashed and naked, her loyal subjects will cheer, fully aware of their nocturnal duties in harvesting sperm.”

Half dreaming, I pictured the elderly Emperor being orally serviced by the young castrates. Naked and restrained by orders of the Empress, the aging phallus of the ruler rises under the passionate licks of boys whose only remaining sexual function is too harvest semen in order to continue the process of procreation. She watches as the Emperor struggles in not wishing to give up sperm in such an unmanly way. But his reluctance is futile. The oddly effeminate hands of the castrated boys caress and knead, trained tongues lick, reddened young lips suck. And to complete the humiliation, when they feel his climax approaching, tongues and lips withdraw and a soft and lubricated hand merely masturbates the ruler’s stiff but withered phallus into a jar. A laughing Empress applauds. Once again the castrates have won the twice weekly contest, extracting what the Emperor so unwilling gives, and in so doing they avoid a firm caning.

As sleep approached I made a mental note to contact Dr. Ann in the morning. Surely such a simple request could be fulfilled.

If Tony’s tongue ever stopped it did so long after I slumbered. My wandering thoughts about the quaint Asian world of male servitude brought wonderful dreams.

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