Wednesday, August 20, 2014

The Sash - Balls


Copyright 2014

by Chris Bellows

“Bring me the ball marked number one, Markie. In your mouth... no hands.”

The so termed toy box is filled with a plethora of rubber objects, phallic implements of bizarre shape... some frighteningly large... and indeed foam rubber balls of varying size. The demanded ball, numbered as clearly as a billiard ball, is the smallest, some one inch in diameter.

Markie bends his neck, lowering his face to retrieve the number one ball. Though of foam rubber, he notes the firmness as his lips open and his teeth grasp.

“Bring it here, hurry. Crawl quickly... come, come.”

Markie obeys, Nurse Benson’s stentorian words backed by instant punishment for disobedience. He turns, knees parted as commanded, legs shuffling rapidly, He feels his tiny penis flop about, the folds of his empty sac rolling to abrade his inner thighs.

Markie notes the waiting hand, palm upwards.

“Lick it well, the more moist it is the easier it will be for you,” Nurse Benson’s fingers wriggling in welcome.

Markie quickly rolls about his tongue to apply more moisture then humbly plops it from his mouth into the waiting palm.

“Turn, forehead to the floor, back arched, buttocks high, spread for me like a good girl.” 

There comes no doubt as to where Markie will bear the sphere, Nurse Benson’s left hand firmly gripping the empty scrotal sac for leverage as he complies with precision... indeed spreading like a good girl.

Yes, the wet foam is pressed to his anus, his sphincter easily yielding as the knowing nurse presses inward with steady force. How many has the woman so dextrously impaled?

“Now, twice about the room, crawl keeping your knees parted for me. Show off those girly cheeks. Then bring me ball number two.” 

With the words Markie feels a brisance of delight, the foam sphere, compressed while stuffed past his purse string muscle, expanding to knead his neglected prostate. The nurse notes his reaction, his pause of faint pleasure. She laughs.

“Yes, we know all about the anal propensity of castrated boys, Markie... know very well how much you will come to crave attention there. And you shall have it.

“Now... crawl about... show off for me... then get ball two... quickly.”  

Twice about the room, when Markie returns to the toy box, he again lowers his face, his nose rummaging through the many implements to find ball number two. It is larger... by some quarter of an inch. Then he notes balls three and four... each larger than the next... the diameter growing with the digits. And there are more! Ball ten is imposing!

He feels his emaciated penis begin to firm. The physical pressure of the inserted ball? Thoughts of being stuffed by a larger and larger ball?

“Bring it to me. Do not dawdle!”

Lips part, teeth grip, Markie’s tongue knows to moisten as parted knees rapidly shuffle across the room.

“Now, place ball number one into this bowl, Markie. No hands. Make like you’re having a bowel movement,” a white shoe sliding forth a large bowl.

“Forehead to the floor... be a good girl for me.”

The humiliation intensifies as Markie must perform what is otherwise a most intimate anatomical act. He positions himself then both presses with his stomach muscles and purses his anus, working to expel ball number one, tongue moistening ball number two.

“How do you feel performing for me like this Markie? The humiliation is sublime wouldn’t you agree? And I know we’re awakening that prostate gland... neglected and unused.”

With the stultifying words, the nurse lowers her hand and toys with right nipple then left, the estrogen bringing incredible sensitivity of late. Goose bumps of delight form as ball number one slowly slides forth and softly plunks into the waiting bowl.

“Good girl. Now you can have ball number two,” the right hand opening to accept the wet sphere.

Strangely, reluctance begins to dissipate. Markie further spreads not in capitulation... but in welcome. Nurse Benson laughs, recognizing the desperate need to sense the sole remaining male pleasure... prostate manipulation.

Yes, the penis firms more as the fingers of the right hand press to offer a final thrust, the inserted ball slowly expanding within to bring a sigh not to be hushed.

“Now twice about the room, naked girly boy. Then you can select any ball you want to replace ball number two,” Markie pausing, allowing his psyche to soak up the evanescent joy.

The well experienced nurse knows it will not be ball number three chosen next. No, they all go to the larger size... quickly... anal proclivity awakened...  desperation for more apparent.

Yes, she silently wagers on ball five. Yet, if larger, the doctor will be most pleased.    

This is day one. With the toy box well stuffed with anal insertions of every imaginable shape and size, the nurse knows well that Markie will soon be presenting her diligent hands with the nastiest of probes, the sizes most challenging. And he will be trained to take such....orally and anally. 

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