Saturday, January 5, 2013

The Extraction Nurse IV

Extraction Number Two

“I always like to see a boy with a plump set of testicles dangling in wait for me.”

The extraction nurse enters shortly after the cleansing nurse closes the door. She holds up a small pouch of clear plastic.

“Your role here, Robert, is to fill this... whenever I visit... every time I visit. It is all you need to think about... your only task.”

The nurse steps to a cabinet, retrieves a tray and approaches. She places the tray on a small table then works the lever to fold away the bottom portion of the masturbation table. The pleats of her uniform are felt brushing against his upturned thighs and buttocks. Robert quivers with her proximity, recalling the excruciating jolts of electricity endured in the last encounter.

“And I see you’re expecting me... beginning to harden in my presence. Normally it takes a boy a couple of extractions before he is psychologically conditioned to respond to me... a Pavlovian reaction to what I have to offer,” the nurse chuckling with her observation.

A hand extends, caresses and pats the swinging balls. Yes, perhaps such are indeed juicy, just as the cleansing nurse suggested, Robert ponders. There is felt a degree of need. The nutrition nurse suggested hormones were to be forcibly induced. Has this so heightened his priapic response... his need?

“Ok. A primer on the male anatomy. I will masturbate you and you will cooperate, maximizing the yield I want. To do that you’ll ejaculate on cue, when I feel the ejaculatory muscles well primed. I will give the command and you will meekly and obediently fill my little specimen pouch. And you will also pull strongly with your pubo coccygeus muscles. Do you know what they are Robert? You may speak.”

“No, ma’am.”

“Commonly referred to as the ‘PC’ muscles you use them... formerly used them... when you urinated... before we diapered you. Whenever you endeavor to conclude urinating... to cut off the flow... you pull down here,” the fingers of the right hand brushing the perineum to demonstrate. “The muscles will also assist in assuring you’re well depleted. In so assisting, I will obtain a nice large and clean specimen. While you pull, I’ll manipulate as well, tugging away on your penis, just as on a cow’s udder. Yes, Robert, think of yourself as being milked. I want you drained of every drop. And I will know if you’re not cooperating. Masturbated many boys, countless times. Electro ejaculation awaits for those who cannot... will not... properly use the PC muscles.”

The nurse pauses, surveying her helpless charge. Now hairless, once again blushing in pink, the lad appears alien... a beast to be handled... to be pampered and milked. The sight thrills.

“Three strong pulls, Robert. Remember the male anatomy erupts in a series of three.”

Left hand and right visit the tray where a jar of unguent awaits. No gloves, Robert notes, and when the nurse turns and both cradles his scrotum and grasps his stiffening penis, he understands why. The transfer of body warmth brings an instantaneous brisance of delight. Robert feels his erection jump into her right hand, which in turn offers a welcoming tender grip followed by an initial teasingly gentle stroke. The woman is masterful and he realizes he will soon be joining the nurse’s pack of Pavlovian dogs.

“Every boy has masturbated himself differently before arriving here. I am going to train you to erupt my way. With every visit you will be stroked and brought to ejaculation in exactly the same manner. It is best for you. Consistency will bring expectancy, abet your obedience. It will seem clinical, but that’s the way we prefer it. You’re a machine, Robert. A sperm machine and one which I will turn on and turn off at my caprice.”

The words come as Robert experiences the marvelous touch of a woman whose sole objective is to bring overwhelming pleasure and harvest the results. The right hand strokes and twists, the left jostles the scrotum, palpating the testicles with pluck. Lying bound and in isolation, the sensory input, quite limited for an unknown interval, becomes vast. Robert’s psyche finds a willingness to submit.

‘Let the woman have what she wants. Give,’ he tells himself.

“Look at me, Robert. Do not close your eyes. It is important for you to understand how much a woman of my ilk enjoys making a boy perform. You’ll learn to respond to me, please me with your essence.”

Stroke and twist, stroke and twist, the thumb rubs the overly sensitive under side, then stroke and twist. Rhythmic, mechanical, clinically ascetic in the brightly lit chamber of white walls and flooring. Though normally an act of intimacy, the encounter is oddly asexual.

“Oh, I feel a certain need coming. Some little male muscles are beginning to oscillate.”

With that the stroking hand bends the stiffness downward, Robert yelps with the comparative discomfort. The left hand finds the small collection pouch.

“I think this naughty boy wants to show off for me. Would you like to cum for your nurse? Fill my specimen bag?”

Robert energetically nods, succumbing to the building ecstasy.

The nurse caps the penis tip, putting in place the bag, a hat for the swollen head. Then in one well coordinated motion, she rights the angle, plunges two fingers into the lad’s anus and gives the command.

“Cum for me.”  

Robert explodes.

“Now pull!”

He complies as the gripping right hand again lowers the angle, assuring the captured effluent does not escape, squeezes at the base and slowly but firmly draws toward the penis tip. A bead of male essence joins the initial explosion while the penetrating fingers manipulate the prostrate.

Milked indeed.

“Pull again.”

Robert obediently pulls as the nurse replicates, squeezing and drawing downward to draw a second bead.

“Once more.”

This time the squeezing fingers draw nothing. This final effort brings a smug smile. Robert’s male organs are well drained... emptied by a master. Obediently looking straight into her face, he notes the look of Schadenfreude. She has made him perform, turned an act of male pleasure into an amusing performance for the governing female.

The pouch is sealed. The breathing mask is slipped back in place. The nurse extracts as small remote control from a pocket of her uniform. She presses. Once again the sweet smell of nitrous oxide fills Robert’s nostrils. Within a minute he returns to unconsciousness, realizing the interval of full alertness has been short... just enough allotted time to climax for his nurse... no time to enjoy the glow of intense release.    

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