A Woman in Control - My good organizer VIII

My good organizer VIII

Visiting the office/clinic of Dr. Rebecca Helmstadt, observing the skills of Nurse Benson, can be fulfilling for a woman of my penchants.

In the cab to Jack’s apartment, he wept. I consoled him.

“It’s for the best Jack. You’ll feel better. Those insatiable urges to view pornography will end. You’ll be more focused. You will enjoy serving me. You’re already calmer.”

He was indeed. The extraction of male seed offers no moments of pleasure at the clinic of
Dr. Rebecca Helmstadt. After finishing with her counsel Nurse Benson directed Jack to the ’sample room’. Expecting to be masturbated, both Jack and I were shocked.

There was a low steel table. At one end, hanging from the ceiling by chains was a device resembling medieval stocks. Nurse Benson patted the table top, indicating that Jack mount and kneel.

“Neck and wrists,” Nurse Benson instructed, tapping the semi circular openings in the stocks. 

He complied. She lowered the top and flipped a latch to secure head and hands.

“I’m going to guess a number two. Has he been used anally?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

“Then I am sure he’s tight.”

Nurse Benson then proceeds to work with mechanical directness. Whatever the procedure, it is evident that she has performed it countless times. The anus is lubricated. An egg shaped object is retrieved from a hanging hook. I count five others of various sizes. All have wires dangling beneath. The egg is summarily pressed into Jack’s rectum. His entreaties are of course ignored. Then the nurse enshrouds Jack’s penis tip with what I can only describe as a Texas catheter, the tube leading to a small plastic collection bag resting on the table beneath his belly. Then the wires are unraveled and plugged into a box on the nearby wall.

“Electroejaculation, quick, thorough and without a scintilla of pleasure.”

With that she presses a button. Jack spastically lurches and shouts most gutturally.

“And now a moment of rest. We used to manually extract samples, but no matter the skill of the masturbatrix, the seminal vessels are never completely emptied. Plus, many of the governing women complained about the level of pleasure offered... and probably rightfully so.”

As she speaks, I gaze at the clear collection bag. A modicum of spunk has been given up. In no way comparable to that spurted by well hung studs during my recent dates... but then again for those encounters with the male, I select based on size and virility.

Nurse Benson presses the button again. A second spastic lurch, a second guttural cry... less strident. I note there is a slight increase in effluent.

“Forty volts. Quite cathartic for them... and physically draining of course. They leave here feeling as if they’ve had a very long workout. Yes, they come in like lions and leave like lambs. And there are good psychological effects as well.”

Now the nurse enters my realm of knowledge and I must agree. Expunged of essence in this manner, the male succumbs to the notion that his seed is something to be harvested... at the whim of a woman... and painfully... not something to be spouted in ecstasy. 

The button is pressed again and I understand the function of the yoke. If not held upright, on knees and bent at the waist, a spent Jack would collapse onto the table top, impeding the flow of effluent and crushing the collection bag.

Nurse Benson seals the bag, removes the number two egg and slips away the catheter.

“He’ll need a moment to rest. I’ll let you talk things over. You may wish to consider a chastity device. Despite the cyproterone acetate, they do tend to touch themselves...”

Nurse Benson releases the latch and lifts the yoke. Jack slumps to the table top, semi conscious.

“Best time to inject him. I’ll be right back,” stepping away with the sample bag.

“Please don’t do this, Miss Montrove,” Jack whines in his stupor.

“Jack, I saw the sample. I imagine a mouse would be more fecund. Your ejaculate amounts to nothing!”  

He moans. Tears form. I need to console him.

“The company health plan will cover everything. I can offer the guidance that you need. You can cook for me. I’ll keep you bound nice and tight. And Jack, I saved some of your porn, some very nice photos that with your transformation I think you will come to enjoy even more. Jack, you’re going to lose so little and gain so much. You’ll be serving me.”

The door opens. Nurse Benson returns with a tray, alcohol swab, hypodermic needle brimming with a massive dose of anti androgen. Again she is mechanical and direct. Without a moment of hesitation, she swabs, jabs Jack’s right buttock and plunges.

“It’s for the best,” for the first time her tone soothing, the somber words offered with soft deliberation, those spoken at the funeral of the elderly and infirm.

Yes, a moment of reflection. Jack’s limited maleness is ending.

After Jack gave up his sperm sample, his recovery slow, we stroll to the reception area. There a middle aged woman has a boy on a leash. He is naked, of course, and the leash is attached to a formidable nose ring, deeply embedded. The boy kneels on all fours, his only attire a steel waist band. As Jack dresses, the cute young receptionist tosses a dog biscuit over the desk to the floor. The kneeling naked male moves with alacrity and scoops it up in his mouth without use of his hands. This brings raucous laughter from the receptionist.

“Good boy!” turning to me. “He thinks Mr. Dumond may eat it first,” explaining the haste.

Meanwhile, before Jack finishes dressing, the middle aged woman, smiling with pride, offers slack on the leash, snaps her fingers and points. Just as alacritously, the boy dog crawls to my feet and licks my shoes. I stoop and pat his head, noting that the clothing rack has only one item of clothing remaining... a simple cape... obviously worn in deference to New York City’s nudity laws.

Upon departing I look back, my line of sight for the first time offering a view from behind. Not neutered, the boy instead wears a rather intricate chastity device... steel band encircling the base of quite the sizable scrotum. The penis... not to be seen. Caged... also in steel.      

“How often do you unlock him?” I find I have to inquire.

“I don’t. No key. That’s Nurse Benson’s task... a monthly cleaning and sperm sample. You see how frisky he gets if he doesn’t get drained.”

I nod.

“Number three egg?” exhibiting my new found knowledge concerning electroejaculation.

“No, he’s used anally, opened frequently. I have some gay friends. He hates it, but it’s good discipline for him. So he takes a number five, soon to be number six,” the woman smiling wickedly.