Chapter Twenty Six

Part Two

Brandy’s Story

Chapter Twenty Six

Boys heal so fast in the growth years. Within a week Hector was crawling about again, making the most comical guttural sounds, his inability to speak requiring days of acclimation. But his tearful looks of frustration were worth the effort and with his hands rendered unusable for most human functions, his dog bowl training was most convenient in providing him with the ability to eat and drink.

The masturbator’s penis, what remained, was revealed for general display after a week. Mom had been careful to leave him with a wondrous little stub, nicely rounded with limited scar tissue. Even with minimal work on the erectile chambers it still seemed to engorge, particularly when Madam worked him with a whip.

“Those testicles will keep him randy for the rest of his life,” commented the Madam. “He’ll come to realize that flagellation is the only relief, and will learn to beg for it.”

He pulled the ox cart daily, with Madam supervising the addition of weight in the form of large rocks to add to his burden. Sometimes she rode along on the stallion bearing a long single tail to encourage his efforts. Other times she walked with him, leaning to speak into his ear and softly offering encouragement while he labored in the hot desert sun. She utilized the small penis whip to flog his well exposed testicles, forced to display themselves to her hand by way of the special leather sling.

I noticed that those were the instances when his stub seemed to stand most prominently..., if that’s the proper adverb. With her proximity..., and when her wrist flicked..., and the thin strand of leather nipped his scrotum..., that’s when the curious nub attempted to show itself for her.

How amusing!

The Judge took more than a few days to get back to me. Meanwhile Madam came and went, sometimes leaving for several days to tend to other business. In her absence Dolly was trained to monitor the masturbator’s exercise. That kept the astute canine quite busy in the morning, first running the herd and than walking along with the ox cart while the masturbator worked himself into a good sweat.

My visiting clients enjoyed the sight of a well worked naked boy. On one occasion Jackie propped herself in the back of the cart with the rocks and had great fun guiding the reins and applying the whip, though I feared for what remained of the masturbator’s organs.

Finally, a call came through and it was suggested that Pat pick up the Judge in the limousine.

“He asked me to specify that he has special cargo,” the Judge’s secretary mysteriously suggested.

Pat sped off and hours later returned. The Judge somehow had met the Madam’s criteria. Two blonds boys, identical twins, were tucked away naked in the back of the limousine. Pat had taken several pair of single gloves with her, not sure of the required sizes. So with their arms encased behind their backs in soft but firm leather, the boys followed the Judge out of the back of the car. They appeared to fit right into the ranch’s genre.

“They some how got lost in the Los Angeles airport,” the Judge explained briefly. “And it seems they were acting as mules for parents who smuggled drugs. So no one has stepped forward and claimed to be related to them..., which can be expected since they’d immediately be arrested.”

Ingenious! Not only was there no one attempting to look for the two cute blonds, but even if located, the parents would undoubtedly deny any relationship, lest they face prison time.

“So legally these two are aliens with no status. Their rights are quite limited. They seem to be from Norway or Sweden. Maybe even Iceland. I took them out of the holding cell before any one of authority could learn anything.”

Erma immediately took charge of the tykes while a salivating Judge inquired as to the whereabouts of Johnnie.

I had informed Erma of the Judge’s visit. And as expected our belted hermaphrodite was prettied up as if about to attend a high school prom. When he stepped onto the porch, there developed a definite bulge in the Judge’s trousers. They immediately went off to one of the guest rooms. I sent Tony to the room also and with the realization that he would be kept busy for most of the day, I headed for the dormer. I would not describe the source of my needs as nymphomania, but with all the delicious action at the ranch, I certainly needed some form of gratification from time to time.

So for the first time in many days I strolled down the hallway of the dormer peering through the one way glass. My boys were in the quiet period, having been well exercised earlier, finished with the day’s tongue training and therefore trussed up and hooded.

As Erma described the long and boring afternoons... “it gives them pause for thought”. And Dr. Ann assured me that their thoughts were all focused on serving the dominant female.

I selected a boy we had come to call ‘Gladys’, a humorous reference to the fact that Mom had weeks before opened up his scrotum and slipped out his testes. Thus, the neutered lad was experiencing physical changes he didn’t quite understand. I had taken to observe his sessions with Dr. Ann and many times had to stifle my laughter as he was encouraged to masturbate. After weeks of forced chastity, his looks of dejection when the expected ecstasy could not be achieved were priceless.

“What’s the matter, Gladys?” chided Dr. Ann. “I thought boys your age enjoyed performing such nasty deeds. I’d like to see it spit that goo. Don’t you enjoy showing off for a woman?”

And with each ‘counseling’ session, Gladys’s manhood was more and more reluctant to stand, the testosterone slowly but steadily ebbing from his system without being replaced. He was divinely embarrassed.

“But your tongue works well, Gladys. Many women enjoy that in a boy. I think you’re the type who likes to serve women..., is that right?”

With the hormone change of his operation, the carefully chosen words during Dr. Ann’s sessions became imprinted on his malleable mind. Erma was happy with his progress and the increasing fatigue demonstrated during morning runs was expected. And Dolly was amusingly confused, a healthy set of eggs being her favorite target for the encouragement of proper behavior among her jogging charges. The canine noticed the absence of the plump pink organs and after a week she effectively learned to nip his dangling appendage when needed.

Gladys was lying in his tiny room naked and hooded with ankles secured by a spreader bar. Erma did that with the recent castrates to highlight their empty scrotums for viewing clients. The effect was most humiliating for the boy..., forced to display for all to see what a woman had taken from him. And indeed the empty puff of flesh below a limp penis was plainly viewed. Mom cleverly slipped the gonads out small incisions at the sides of the sac where it met the pubes. Thus, though only neutered two months before, there were no scars detectable.

I moved on to the wash room. Erma had the twins standing naked in the huge tub, both inspecting and washing the soft flesh. Her dark hand highlighted the whiteness of their Scandinavian skin.

“They speak very little English and there is no way to definitely determine their age, but they’re quite responsive to my touch.”

Indeed. To amuse herself during the ablutions, Erma had both boys standing. Little uncircumcised penises pointing skyward as the boys sheepishly stood, obediently keeping their hands on their heads as Erma’s hands explored everywhere. Pink buttocks evidenced Erma’s firm handiwork in beginning what would be many weeks of discipline. Proper techniques for correction of the male transcend the language barrier, I thought to myself.

Then I peered below at what Madam would soon have harvested for her collection. Small and hairless, my mind envisioned the genderless boys effeminately coiffed and with makeup, led about on the end of the Empress’s leash, with the underdeveloped penises well displayed, trapped in time by simple flicks of Mom’s scalpel.

“Erma, I’ll want Gladys by the pool. I’m taking the afternoon off.”

The tall black woman smiled and nodded, fully understanding my needs.

So while the Judge reaped his reward I changed..., stripped actually..., donned a robe and headed for the pool. I had many calls to make, one of which was to Madam, informing her of our find.

Soon after being ensconced in a comfortable lounge chair, shaded by a sizable umbrella, Erma arrived with Gladys. I thought his eyes would make his head explode as he viewed my nakedness. And as I spoke on the phone a warm and comfortable feeling came over me, knowing that even as my modeling career faded I could still draw attention from the opposite gender, if that appropriately described our recently altered boy.

I spread my legs and pointed. Gladys knelt and worked his tongue up my thigh and I found myself giggling during an important phone conversation when the most sensuous of tongues began lapping away. He was good.

I completed my conversation and put the phone down, repositioning myself to provide Gladys with better access. I was surprised when he energetically renewed his efforts. I had a small orgasm and stared motionless at the cloudless California horizon as our neutered boy attentively serviced my sex as if it was his own.

I began to understand the benefits of his alteration. Not being able to experience his own pleasure, he savored mine. The paucity of male hormones provided Gladys with a sensitivity that I had rarely felt from a male and though Tony had years and years of training and coveted my organs more than I did myself..., there was a difference.

Gladys was sublime..., and his training was just beginning!

I let the orgasms roll. Wave after wave. He was tireless and lapped up everything as if dying of thirst. I thought he would swallow my clitoris and I could not help crying out in ecstasy when he simultaneously sucked and swirled his tongue.

Strange, why after months at the ranch I had not before fully understood the incongruity..., that the little jewels Gladys was forced to give up made such a difference in his outlook.., his perception.., his psyche..., his underlying belief in his role in life.

Gladys was born to serve. It took a couple of snips for him to better understand his own purpose for being.

My thighs having squeezed his head in a dozen climaxes, both small and large, I rolled over and grabbed the phone. I was heartened to again feel Gladys’ tongue. Without suggestion, hint or command he serviced my backside without hesitation.

It seemed to be the right moment to call Madam. As I announced to our most dedicated Asian client the arrival of the blond twins, the most sensuous of tongues slithered where most boys find reluctance.

I was in heaven. As I spoke with the accomplished whipmistress, my mind began to juxtapose the cunnilingus of the neophyte Gladys versus that of my life long servant. I wondered if Tony would ever know what a bad day he was having.