'To Serve Intact' VII

Deemed numb, Brandi lubricates my anus. A collection dish is placed beneath my comically shrunken penis. Then the fingers work inward, one, then two, then three.

A free hand caresses my balls, more adulation from he/she without. I know to try to relax. Brandi will fist me, her hand gratefully small. Though degrading, I need her... need her deft penetration.

After a pause, letting me become accustomed to the invading fingers, she resumes and in time my rectum swallows her entire hand. I groan.

The free hand leaves my scrotum and moves to my penis. I feel very little but know she begins a milking motion, my flaccid organ becoming a defacto udder. What I can feel is the odd pain/ pleasure of her of penetrating fingers as such expertly find my swollen and neglected prostate gland and begin to knead. Steady, mechanical but offering such welcomed distant joy.

"Yes, those nice big balls of yours produce marvelously."

I am startled by the voice of my Master. She has returned. Watching male on male interaction brings a thrill. She cannot resist observing as I so ignominiously give up what I would prefer to spurt with virility, to ecstatically ejaculate into a tight, warm and wet vagina.

That will never ever again happen.

She pauses at my right side looking to the table top between my knees. I cannot see it, but I know she gleefully watches as my penis, iced to tininess, is being drained of pre ejaculatory fluid.

"Pay dirt, Brandi, it’s turning cloudy," she announces with enthusiasm.

She moves to my front. With meek adoration, I look to my Master, she who saved me from death. She is beautiful, smiling, reveling in her governance.

Casually attired, clothing is limited in the equatorial climate. I thus gawk in admiration, so well formed, so well sculpted, what nature bestowed at birth Master has perfected with diligent exercise. She sips a glass of white wine, the fogged glass suggesting it is will chilled.

"You so much enjoy Brandi’s touch," Master suggests, knowing of my deep revulsion... revulsion pragmatically not so much cast aside but needfully stuffed away deeply in the bowels of my psyche.
I need Brandi... and Master is well aware.

Her free hand extends and hooks my nose ring. For Master, it is being girlishly playful. She has no conception of the agony caused as she casually jostles it about, my face forced to follow the simplest motions of her finger. Yet, perhaps she does.

"You’re quiet tonight, my beast, perhaps I should have cropped you more."

With teeth filed to the gums, I lisp and thus speak rarely. Besides, what is it I need to say?

"I’m going to the mainland for a few days. Be a good boy for Brandi. She’s in charge."

"Yesh, Mashter," my response spurring a smile of realization as I struggle in pronouncing the simplest of words.

"Infibulate him tightly, Brandi. And you can sleep with him in the stable tonight if you want. Jackie will be servicing me."

Master sleeps nightly with the head of a naked castrate wedged between her thighs. She is insatiable and well trained, altered tongues are known to endlessly offer oral gratification well into the morning hours.

Neutered Jackie is trained as a maid, modified to an incredible level of femininity, mandatory makeup and bejeweled as well.

Brandi’s hand retracts. Apparently I am deemed drained and the neutered youth steps forth to proudly display what she has forcefully extracted from me. A clear ice cream dish is half filled with a mass of gooey white and Master smiles.

"See how well fed we keep you. Very virile. Such prodigious output."

Master dips her finger into the cloudy mass then presses it past my lips to coat my defenseless tongue with my own essence.

"You make Brandi very envious."

Master smiles seeing me ingest my own semen. She then sips and tousles the page boy locks of the naked Brandi.

"Bed him down. And remember... tight."

Brandi will need no further counsel. She will infibulate me with glee, rendering my penis as useless as hers.

Master turns and my eyes feast on her flimsy skirt and the wonderfully rounded, well muscled globes beneath as she strolls to depart. Meanwhile Brandi retrieves an infibulation clasp, really nothing more then a paperclip unraveled and twisted into the shape of a ‘U’. She holds it up smiling broadly to gloat. Such irony! Six foot four, 280 pounds and I will be effectively neutered by childlike hands bearing a paper clip.

She steps to my rear. With numbness wearing I feel knowing fingers brusquely and firmly pinch my foreskin then draw it down and away from the base. The slim length of steel is slipped through the openings, first at the three o’clock position and then across to the nine o’clock. I wince feeling the wicked piercings as the diamond studs abrade my glans penis. Then I feel tightness where a man feels the most. Like a bag tie, Brandi cruelly twists the ends, assuring the tip of my penis will remain ensheathed in the foreskin.
Erection is now painfully impossible. I am indeed as effectively neutered as Brandi.

My ankle bands are released. Brandi steps forth to open the brackets holding in place the ends of my yoke. Her finger returns to the nose ring and I gingerly dismount the grooming table and follow as she leads me to my sleeping mat. There the yoke is once again bracketed in mountings on the floor and my ankle bands secured to rings embedded in the concrete.

Yes, my few hours of relative freedom end. I am either constantly bound or serving in harness... bitted, bridled and cropped. Yet there is odd comfort... a befuddling sanguineness. Life boiled to the simplest of existences.

Lastly, a hood is slipped over my head, bringing darkness which beckons slumber. Having been drained, no ecstatic eruption of sperm permitted, I indeed feel as though I have copulated with abandon. Well accustomed to tight bindings, I doze, hoping my penis will be as obedient as me. Nocturnal penile tumescence can bring incredible agony to the infibulated male.

Sleeping in bondage, the frustration can be stifling but in time one acclimates... and more recollections roll forth.