The Sash - Practice

Practice

Copyright 2014

by Chris Bellows

“Come here, Markie. I have a task for you.”

The Prince stoops over the supine mummified form, knife in hand. Will the strange cargo be freed? Markie asks himself, recalling the precaution of binding those deemed to be strong and virile.

As knees and hands shuffle forth, Markie notes that instead the knife carefully cuts about the pubes, slicing downward across a single horizontal strip of thick white bandaging. At the very apex of the bump of maleness, the Prince slowly incises.

“May as well begin acclimating both of you... Thursday here to denial... you to constant teasing.”

The slit is small, but through it the Prince is able to free the male appendage. Large, but not the size of the Prince, white with pinkness where a man most enjoys himself. In sensing fingers rummaging there, the mummified form stirs. Yet the tightness of the bindings is thorough. For the most part, the penis is the only anatomical part which clearly moves. 

“You shall suck him. I am told your tongue has been altered as well and that Nurse Benson has offered adequate training. But you will not bring him to orgasm. Matter of fact you will never bring any of my boys to orgasm. That rule is sacrosanct! For disobedience, you will be caned... and a little girly boy like you will feel the fiery anguish more than most. You’ve lived a pampered life compared to the rigors of punishment meted at my stable.”

The words bring a shudder of fear and concern. The Prince is correct. Markie’s hormonal transformation has brought an extremely low tolerance for pain, Nurse Benson able to bring intense agony with merely her thumb and index finger applied to a nipple. And yes, he has learned things with his tongue. The frenectomy has enabled it to dance, Nurse Benson quite complimentary when he dutifully sucked her fingers, swishing and swirling with aplomb.

But the Prince presents not a finger. It is a penis... a proud penis... of size... not emaciated as a result of castration and estrogen. The organ’s virility is feared...  but there is also admiration.

Yes, there comes more envy. Though the boy Thursday is bound in silent darkness, he has a penis that functions. But is it indeed his penis? Markie begins to realize... though the Prince has ultimate power, he as castrated feminized stable hand will also be empowered. Handling fully functioning penises!

Mine has been rendered useless, not even capable of emptying my bladder, Markie reminds himself. Even while hanging in the doctor’s sash, of late there has been little tumescence. And now the Prince presents something that not only works... it can be forced to work at Markie’s behest!

“Come. Get him up for me. Let’s see if that gag training has been sufficient. And if you feel pending ejaculation, withdraw... immediately. Just let his hard on waggle in the cabin air. It will amuse.”

There is reluctance... but there is strange eagerness. His subconscious recalls the pleasant nipple manipulation whenever Nurse Benson found her fingers to be adequately sucked. And putting aside any homophobic thoughts, does Markie really have a choice?

Logically, should he in fact feel revulsion? He begins to rationalize... he has been castrated by a woman, made into a little girl... and one trained to suck cocks! Why should any phobia sensibly remain? A fait accompli... Markie has indeed been transformed... to a girly boy sucker of cocks.     A powerful hand entwines in Markie’s golden locks, slowly pressing downward. The encouragement is surprisingly gentle, considering the muscling of his owner. Markie knows to open his lips. The hand guides to the penis tip, Markie offering no resistance. Fellatio begins for real. Unlike Nurse Benson’s fingers, he senses the more pronounced pulsation of Thursday’s heart beat. Unlike Nurse Bensons’ fingers, he feels it jump in response to the slight initial swish of a tongue trained ad infinitum to please.

Yes! Markie senses control. A rare privilege. Heady stiff.

With a second swish the organ stiffens, the tip racing to the back of his mouth. The boy Thursday is young, his virility physically felt. Markie effortlessly opens his throat. The penis tip further slithers inward. He gags not. Oddly, he senses the pride of accomplishment.

Yes, Markie feels empowered!

Well impaled, the Prince’s entwined hand pulls his head upwards then abruptly reverses to firmly press down, the swollen tip forced well inward. Markie hears a deep guttural laugh. The Prince enjoys the intensity of the humiliation... enjoys in knowing Markie’s offer of pleasure will never be requited... knows that Thursday will never be permitted the ultimate in male ecstasy.

Up, down, up, down, finally the hand controlling the puppet Markie pulls away his face. The erection plops from a mouth well used, a throat well frictioned. Rock hard purple stiffness rigidly points to the cabin ceiling.

“You see, he’s a nice sized boy. And he’ll soon be put under the penis as well. Now keep him hard for me... the remainder of the flight.”

The knife bearing hand returns, cutting to carefully lengthen the slit in the encasement of white. Two meaty plums are brought into the cabin light.

“Lick and suck his balls... slowly. You may as well adore what a woman took from you,” the Prince’s hand releasing to move to Markie’s empty scrotum.

There, Markie is surprised to feel fingers sensuously knead where the doctor quickly yet cruelly flicked with her scalpel.

“Whatever do you think happened to them, Markie? Nurse Benson make some earrings did she? Ha, ha, ha.”