Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Chapter Twenty Six - Whisked to Chessu

Chapter Twenty Six

Ten naked well trussed males, herded beasts, stand in wait. Above is a long thick horizontal plank supported by sturdy posts right and left. Holding each upright are chains attached to the neck bands just below each ear. Ankle bands are also tethered, right band to the left band of the neighboring beast. The handlers have worked in conjunction, the many years of experience in binding sizable males, physically sculpted for unending labor, well practiced.

Perched on wooden blocks, the feet are well spread. Nurse Wendy demands access to the most intimate male anatomy during her weekly visits. Her inspection and tendance ensures a healthy subordinate, able to perform as demanded.

For the newly arrived 322, it is an awkward stance. His right ankle band is attached to the post, his left ankle band to the right band of the adjacent beast, anonymous but for his number... 224665. And that beast in turn has his left band secured to the right band another, numbered buttocks unseen.

Yes, when finished adjusting, assuring the neck bands are without slack and the feet are widely parted, ten handlers, all attired to flash shapely buttocks and feminine charms, gather to await, each passing time in sharing stories of torment, forced labor and lucrative loads of Rhodium ore.

Within minutes comes the drone of the Hercules cargo plane. The craft passes parallel to the airstrip turns and banks, the steady hum of the engines lowering to begin decent. There follows the momentary screech of tires, a cloud of dust and the place taxis proximate to the curious display of naked, well subjugated male brawn.

The cargo hold door drops and an enthused Nurse Wendy steps to the desert soil, large canvas bag in hand.

“Greeted by some eight feet of standing dick. A woman could not have a better reception,” Nurse Wendy quips, bringing forth titters from the covey of handlers.

322 knows that his own organ has dutifully firmed, the tension on his neck collar, the weeks of chastity, fostering a moderate erection. With Nurse Wendy’s comment he must assume that his compatriots have achieved a similar condition. Neck encumbered, it is hard to turn his head to see.
322 notes the woman who so attentively altered his penis wears her crisply starched white uniform. He is reminded of her size... not only are her resolve and heartless ministrations imposing but her stature as well. On a well worn wooden table she plunks down her satchel and begins her preparations.

“No branks, no slings ladies. I’ll want complete exposure... complete access.”

The handlers dutifully step forth to collectively remove the ubiquitous restraints. With his mouth freed, his testicles freely swinging between well parted thighs, 322 feels a degree of relief... yet it is not to bode well.

“For those newly arrived, I will explain my role. I am here to assure that the property of the Empress is duly cared for and in good stead. We want physically toned males, able to work, able to entertain, able to stand for the Empress at her behest.”

Nurse Wendy snaps on latex gloves as she speaks in a stentorian voice.

“To assure adequate performance you are to be kept chaste. Pleasure in the Province of Chessu is for the female. Any gratification for you will be in pleasing. And as Dr. Saunders has worked to further assure, your penises will never again be a source of sexual satiation. They will only be a source of entertainment for the women of Chessu. Therefore you will continue to be mentally and physically altered... starting with a nice acid bath and followed by some injections that will help you perform.

“Remove the blocks ladies, let’s have a nice show.”

With each beast standing on small wooden blocks, the effect of removing such is to have the well restrained and naked males move to the very tips of the their toes, further tensioning the neck bands. That in turn further spurs the penises which Nurse Wendy will soon inspect and modify.

322's feet scramble to find terra firma, his left ankle band stressing the right ankle band of the neighboring 224665. His is the same reaction and there comes collective laughter as the handlers watch their charges dance in unison.

“Calm yourselves. The neck bands are well designed. Breathe steadily and just let mother nature work. Tensioning the spinal cord has a nice firming effect on the male organ...as I am sure you’re all feeling,” Nurse Wendy proclaims with snicker.

She opens a jar and grasps the moderate sized paint brush which 322 has before endured.

“Just a little muriatic acid to start, boys. Keep that penile flesh nice and raw and obviate any desire to stroke yourself.”

322 is first. Without compunction the woman knowingly brushes his standing erection with a thin coating of what appears to be water. She is quick, efficient and attentive assuring every square centimeter is wetted. Then she steps to 224665 and replicates her handiwork. As she endeavors to coat the third beast, 322 begins to feel the acid... warm... warmer... hot... hotter... and as Nurse Wendy steps to the far beast... searing.

Once again the feet dance, in unison tugging away at each others ankle bands. The handlers find amusement. And despite the suffering, 322's penis shrivels not.

“Good. you’re all standing for me so nicely.”

Gratefully Nurse Wendy returns with a spray bottle, A spritz of cooling water ends the immediate burn, but 322 knows his penis is chemically well chafed, not to be touched. As described, it feels as if it has been well sun burned.

“Now for your hormone shots. Mostly testosterone with some other additives to make you all nice a randy. It can be injected anywhere. But I think you seasoned beasts know where I like to press the needle.”

Hypodermic needles are assembled on a tray. A more experienced handler assists, moving with the tray as Nurse Wendy steps behind and 322 feels her palming his low hanging scrotal sac.

“You know why I do it this way?” Nurse Wendy poses with a sardonic laugh... “because I can.”

Added to the sting of his penis comes a stabbing pin prick to the thin flesh of his scrotum. Then 322 feels warming as some substance, purportedly hormones, is injected directly into his balls. Once again the feet kick, stressing the ankle band of 224665 who in turn kicks to tension his neighbor’s bound foot.

When it comes time to inject 224665, the reaction repeats... and so on until ten dangling scrotal sacs have all been cruelly infused with... with whatever.

“Desire my boys... you will always have it... and never satiate it...” Nurse Wendy cackles as she returns to the table.

“And now my favorite. A little prostate stimulation... for that little male gland that is so helpful in keeping the virile male erect. You should all appreciate this. For it will keep those balls away from Dr. Saunders’ snipping shears and her collection... and you out of the swill factory.”

Yes, as 322 has learned, the failure to stand for the Empress can have dire consequences. He cannot help wondering if this calloused nurse is indeed of assistance as he senses an odd warmth within his scrotum, observing as the nurse prepares another set of hypodermic needles.

“Capsaicin, for the benefit of you new beasts. A harmless skin irritant. But injected directly into the prostate gland it will irritate there as well. Make that walnut sized lump big and swollen, ready in a moment to assist with erection.”

The thought horrifies. But there is no manner of resistance. Nurse Wendy again moves to 322's rear, the handler following with the tray. A gloved left gloved first kneads the perineum. Fingers work to further spread the extreme upper thighs and lower buttocks. Then 322 feels the most incredibly painful pin prick ever, up and pressed deeply into his flesh between his rectum and his scrotum. The woman knowingly pauses then oh so slowly injects. More horror comes as the needle slightly withdraws and is reinserted at a different angle. The procedure repeats for a third time to completely immerse the curious male gland with the searing hot liquid.

322 is amazed to feel his penis further stiffen despite the intensity of the agony. And of course his feet kick to once again begin the choreographed reaction of his ten cohorts. More laughter as he howls. He has never felt such pain.

“Yes, sing for me 322. It is why I prefer the brank to be removed.”

1 comment:

JHoltgym said...

this just gets better and better.....
detailed comments on the whole saga at the end of issue 34.....