Tuesday, October 12, 2010

Whisked to Chessu - Chapter One

Be sure to read the prologue first. Posted October 11.

Chapter One

“The judge has signed the papers, Mr. Blaine. I trust you didn’t gag... too much.”

A return visit to the office of Dr. Ann Simpson. Step one of Mr. Jay Blaine’s journey has been completed. With his look of despair, Dr. Ann reacts with her own look of Schadenfreude. Her irritating sardonic laugh returns in picturing male lips tenderly pursed about the judge’s pecker, slowly offering the mandated oral gratification. She envisions the ironic signing of the release papers at the very moment his hot sperm is released... jetting into the back of her charges throat.

Yes, threatened with charges of lewd behavior, gross violation of prison rules, listing as a sex offender, many more years to be served at hard labor, Jay Blaine agreed to visit the chambers of the judge.

“Every boy should suck cock on occasion, Mr. Blaine. It’s good for the psyche. Consider that to be professional advice.”

The sardonic laugh transforms to an outright chortle as Dr. Ann Simpson gestures with her hands.

“Come now. Strip naked for me, Mr. Blaine. You know how I want you. And technically... legally... you’ve been temporarily remanded to my custody for more psychological evaluation. With a stroke of the pen I can have you back in the judge's chambers. So make me comfortable. You put on a nice show for me with your last visit.”

Jay Blaine feels the twinges before he even opens a button. The tone... knowing... commanding... in charge... confident... begins the cycle. And the good doctor has every reason for her savoir faire. She can indeed renege on the deal. Would it really mean returning to the judge’s chambers?

In baring himself, Jay can still hear the bellow of disgust from the surprised lesbian guard as she stepped into his cell, his prodigious erection standing and awaiting the command to begin stroking. Was it a set up? The other guards were apparently daughters of Sapphos as well, yet seemed to thrill with his fervent strokes. But his accuser... born again. What luck!

“Don’t flatter yourself by thinking I find you attractive, Mr. Blaine. A good sized penis... well controlled... always brings comfort. But otherwise it’s the heightened vulnerability of your nudity which excites. Besides, the first step of your journey is to obtain life insurance. And that requires a physical exam... normally a rudimentary procedure at your young age. But I think something more thorough will benefit both of us.”

The office door opens. A large woman of middle age enters. Crisp white, starched uniform, there can be no doubt as to her profession.

“This is Annika. Don’t expect to perform and show off as I directed you to do with your last visit. Nurse Annika is a proponent of strict chastity for young males. Though she will require a sperm sample, I don’t think you’ll be offering it in crass self gratification as you normally do.”

Jay Blaine looks to the gaze of the very stern blonde woman. He gulps... and he is chagrined to feel himself begin to stiffen once again.

“Up on the coffee table. On all fours. Knees parted. Arch your back. We’ll begin with a prostate exam,” the blonde nurse is equally commanding, her piercing eyes evaluating, his display of nakedness apparently fostering a demented sense of joy.

The nurse ominously snaps a latex glove over her left hand, her fingers large.

Dare he refuse?


Did he ejaculate?

Jay Blaine cannot answer his own question. The nurse smirked triumphantly in showing him the petri dish coated with slimy white goo. It certainly appeared to be sperm. But in the process he felt nothing close to the pleasure of climax, instead squirming in discomfort as the large strong fingers of the nurse’s left hand penetrated his tight rectum and the fingers of the right worked his penis shaft.

Was it a hand job?

He had certainly not before experienced such a sensation... wanting more... but also wanting less at the same time... a level of discomfort... yet also a very distant sense of joy... but unable to bring it closer.

The left fingers worked his prostate gland... steadily... and with fervor, two fingers... slowing working in a third! Rectum fully stuffed. But it was the fingers of the right which proved more distressing... stroking only the less sensitive top of his stiffness while pressing to angle the purple head downward... never touching the pleasure center of the underside of the tip. And the stroking was always in a downward motion... never up... bringing him to mentally grovel for the normal full and twisting masturbatory strokes mastered in adolescence. The handling of his penis was deliberately frustrating... coaxing his organs to prime for climactic release but never really offering the ultimate pleasurable hand action.

The result... he was milked... he thinks to himself. Yes, my manhood became a cow’s udder and the woman milked me! Humiliated, yet impressed with her skill... her knowledge of the male anatomy apparently quite extensive. Whenever he came close to pulling the trigger, Nurse Annika immediately sensed pending orgasm and stopped, allowing the ejaculatory muscles to calm... yet only to begin again. Yes, she forcibly extracted his essence, on occasion squeezing firmly but briefly to bring forth a notable glop while Dr. Ann Simpson looked on, her words of encouragement most embarrassing.

‘Yes, give Nurse Annika a nice sample... be a good boy for us.’

Afterward, completing the humiliation was the palpation of his entire nakedness. Nothing escaped the knowing touch of the woman’s hands, her fingers pinching, squeezing, tugging. So much attention paid to his balls... the scrotal sac. Many measurements recorded. For what reason?

Continuing to kneel on the coffee table like a stuffed game animal on display, the women talked openly about his body. He was evaluated. An object.

“Do write a good report for me, Annika. Though Madam Soong pays handsomely the judge takes his cut. And though the scrotal sac is somewhat tight, I think he’ll take very well to the standard stretching... and enjoy it.”

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