Monday, November 1, 2010

Chapter Eighteen - Whisked to Chessu

Chapter Eighteen

Well after dark, 322 hears the soft crunch of footsteps on the coarse desert soil. The silhouette of Midori approaches. 322 whimpers, communicating his suffering. He has been branked for many hours, since leaving the hospital, worked to exhaustion, and has been balancing on his knees for an interminable interval.

The near naked form clips a cord to the back of his neck collar and reaches above to secure it to the pole. She then slips the loops of the leash off the brank.

“Some mercy. Rare, but it will help us bond... help you understand.”

322 joyfully feels her fingers work the brank, pressing it sideways, first pulling the slim length through the right grommet, then through the tongue, then finally completely away from the left grommet.

His tongue is free!

“Thank you,” he gasps. “Thank you,” humbly attempting to lick her hand.

Midori smiles.

“You’ll not talk... unless I want to hear from you,” playfully tapping his nose.

“Tomorrow it is to the mine. We will begin with a modest load. But we must begin. To eat, I must earn money. Even your putrefied mush requires funds, my beast. And water here is priceless... you will soon learn how priceless. So you will work hard for me so we can drink as well. Do you understand?”

“Yes ma’am. But... but I need to rest.”

“When you speak, and that will be at my behest, you may call me Miss Midori. And if I let you lie, what will you do for me? You labor in harness for yourself really, earning your keep. How will you please me?”

322 knows not how to answer.

“Well you feasted with your eyes all afternoon,” Midori suggests with uncharacteristic mirth. “Perhaps you would just like to feast,” her hands reaching forth to guide 322's head.

Midori parts her feet. 322 struggles to stay balanced on knees as she draws him forward, forcing him to lean, lowering his head, introducing her mons to his face. 322 inhales deeply, taking in the fine musk of her femininity. She is moist, the arousal offered in controlling the naked male most apparent.

“Yes, lick my beast. I am here to quench your thirst. And you should make yourself hard for me as well. We like that here in Chessu, nice firm obedient beasts, displaying their vanquished virility.”

322 needs no further encouragement. A tormented tongue thrusts forth, greeting the fine moist flesh of her nest. He also rocks his hips, attempting to frottage his firming penis into the desert air. Midori laughs with the gesture of frustration, knowing how he would so much like to please with his penis rather than his tongue.

“It will never happen, 322. Here in Chessu, your penis is only for show.”

Broad laps treat the outer labia. Then Midori begins to direct... with her hands... with her words... offering explicit details concerning the preferred manner of cunnilingus. 322 is amazed at the woman’s... the girl really... insatiability... and the specificity of her quest. She has before been orally served. She is demanding... and expectant... not a hint of shyness. 322 comes to realize that in a gynecocracy, a woman’s pleasure is paramount to all. His, if ever to be achieved... is without standing.

“Hold still... and take all I offer.”

322 stills his efforts and Midori’s hands shift his head. Before it becomes apparent that she aligns her urethral opening, a torrent begins.

“Drink my beast. It is all you will ever imbibe here.”

He does, pursing his lips and taking her flow.

“Yes, you’ll do more than labor before the ox cart, 322.”

She finishes. 322 instinctively knows to tenderly lap her clean.

“Now, before I let you lie, I will instruct you on how to worship a woman’s clitoris...”

******************************************************************************

Well into the night, 322 stopped counting the vaginal oscillations, Midori... Miss Midori... orgasming frequently, the flow of her juices abundant. And yes his penis performed for her, lustfully remaining stiff, on occasion searching the night air for a tight, warm and wet sheath... that serviced by his tongue.

In ultimate satiation, Miss Midori stepped back.

“And now you can lie,” she succinctly proclaimed unhooking the cord at the neck collar.

And so 322 was to learn that, for the male beast, all kindnesses in Chessu were to be earned. For the simple luxury of lying down, finally offering respite to muscles worn to exhaustion, the tongue of 322 was made to work assiduously. Yet, he was granted the privilege of taste, and proximity to the luscious feminine portal at which he had spent many lustful moments gazing in desire.

Midori kindly guided 322's head and upper torso to the soil, finally relieving the incredible slowly building stress. But 322 was forgetful. A penis altered and acid bathed to extreme sensitivity... the coarse desert soil... he yelped in pain when the first grain of sand greeted his manhood.

“I cannot lie like this, please Miss Midori,” his plea breaking the rule of silence.

His handler laughed with the irony, the male tormented by his own organ. In merely lying down it was to bring intolerable suffering.

“More mercy, 322?” Miss Midori inquired with a sardonic laugh. “I do hope you keep in mind these kindnesses.”

Stepping into the hut, Miss Midori returned with a patch of silk. Small, the size of a handkerchief, she helped her beast rise at the hips and slipped the comforting cloth beneath... a simple buffer to bring comfort never before needed.

“Dawn tomorrow we begin. You’ll need to be marked. The Empress insists. And prepare to be well worked... by a woman.”

6 comments:

JHoltgym said...

Chris,
you are truly inspired.
this just gets better and better.
One thing for which you are well known is the extensive vocabulary you utilize in your narratives....i especially appreciate the specificity of your language....
example: putrify.....many writers would write swill or slop or spoiled, but your word has a much darker connotation.....
as i reread the narrative, i see the reason for the "hospital" setting with Ms. Saunders....322 needed alteration and it required a higher level of technology than is (apparently) in Chessu....
this epic continues to fascinate....onto the mines!

thank you for all this.

Chris Bellows said...

Glad you're enjoying the story.

There are many chapters remaining, but be forewarned I will terminate the story by keeping the ending rather open. So we can continually revisit Chessu.

So do not be disppointed if the story appears to end inconclusively.

Regards,

CB

JHoltgym said...

Chris,
what inspires and excites me about this narrative is it seems (at least to me) as the logical extension of so much of what you've discussed/expounded upon before....

>continuing to revisit Chessu.....

what could be more wonderful.......

>do not be disppointed if the story appears to end inconclusively.


no, of course not....it only provides opportunity to find/explore/suggest other wonderful scenarios........
that said, i'm oh so looking forward to "many chapters remaining"


;->

saratoga said...

Chris-

I know, from a prior comment exchange with you, that some of your FemDom practices in these stories are fantasy, without research on their practicality or veracity.

I regret to say, I think the practice, in this story, and your series about the desert slave in heavy irons (forget the title just now), of the male drinking only female urine, is one of these.

I happened to see something on gout the other day. It's a result of a buildup of uric acid in the system. I also recall someone on a blog mentioning that he had experienced gout from the practice of routinely being his Mistress' toilet.

Between the salts flushed out with urine, and the uric acid, if, in reality, all you ever drank was Mistress' piss, you'd probably develop severe gout, as well as dehydrate.

Adding so much salt to your liquid intake, and such limited quantities of intake, in a desert, while at hard labor?

Well, at least it is a beautiful fantasy.....

-saratoga

Chris Bellows said...

Saratoga,

Good input. Yes, it's fantasy. But let's not tell JHoltgym. He is so much enjoying...

CB

Anonymous said...

I agree it's not realistic in the desert setting of Chessu, but it might be possible if a woman drank enough water to keep her urine very dilute for a guy to survive on just that for a while. Yes, a fantasy, but not totally far-fetched.