Wednesday, September 3, 2014

The Sash - The Prince

The Prince

Copyright 2014

by Chris Bellows

“By all means squirm and swing yourself about, Markie. But no noise, no moaning into your gag. Very unladylike,” Nurse Benson tenderly patting the soft right buttock. 

Markie hangs once again, the pink sash tight but wonderfully comfortable. Of late Nurse Benson has taken to gagging her, Markie’s ability to control the gag reflex improving but remaining insufficient.

The slight motion of Nurse Benson’s hand commences a pendulous motion which Markie cannot stop. Conversely, as always when sashed, the increased force of gravity brings welcomed pangs of delight to the perineum, anus and nipples as her nakedness ever so slightly accelerates through the equilibrium position.

Yes, Markie concludes, she will definitely swing herself about. 

Within moments the doctor enters her office, glances at the naked flesh encumbered in pink and smiles knowingly in seeing Markie shift her legs and feet to increase the period of the pendulous motion. The castrated male finds the simplest of pleasures she has come to realize.

“Bring the Prince directly in here when he arrives, Nurse Benson. I’m sure he will want to get right to business.”

Nurse Benson turns to leave and the doctor seats herself, deciding on some moments of adulation... the self adulation of a sculptor completing his her masterpiece. Yes, the altered male brought to complete capitulation. Though the sense of accomplishment satisfies, the thrill of power overrides.

“You’re very pretty, Markie. And soon you’ll not need the gag. Nurse Benson suggests you’re close to taking the stoutest and longest of phalli.”

Silence commanded, Markie knows to merely nod, feet continuing to pump as would a child on swing.

A knock interrupts the doctor’s reflection. Nurse Benson returns to step within and hold open the door.

“His Highness the Prince, doctor.”

Into the office den of the doctor steps a massive man of color, powerful legs bringing surprising grace to his gait.

“Good of you to stop in and visit us, your Highness,” the doctor arising and extending her hand.

“How could one deny himself the blessings of your hospitality, doctor,” hands clasping in greeting. “I’ve been made aware of your fine work and to ultimately visit is like finally completing a long planned tour of the Louvre.”

The suave rejoinder spoken as the Prince turns his head to gaze at Markie’s nakedness helplessly swaying in the corner.

“And an exquisite work of art hangs right here in your office...”

The doctor follows the Prince’s gaze and softly chuckles, wishing not to interrupt his visual inspection. Pausing for a moment, when the Prince’s attention returns, she gestures toward a large comfortable chair at the front of her desk, She waits for the Prince to seat himself. Instead, huge hands effortlessly pick up the sizable piece and turn it, positioning such that a slight turn of the head permits conversation to his left and more glimpses of Markie’s swinging form with a turn to his right.     

The doctor is pleased with the subtle expression of interest.

“I am glad your Highness finds my work to be pleasing.”

“She’s quite lovely in bondage. Limited breasts but I am sure the nipples quite receptive to... ah amusement. Yet, I am sure you’re aware of my... penchants.”

The doctor nods. A quick hand gesture signals Nurse Benson, remaining near the door.

“Your Highness is noted for exquisite yet exacting taste. I would not have suggested a visit should we not be in a position to... assuage your expectations.”

With the words Nurse Benson moves to Markie. Dexterous fingers work the sash at the pubes, pushing aside the pink folds at the ‘V’. Into view pops the tiniest of penises, testosterone deprived, many months of estrogen injections withering, the shrinkage of the vestigial male organ continuing. The empty scrotum follows, Nurse Benson drawing the thin delicate flesh out from its hiding place.

Markie blushes, not fully accustomed to strangers... certainly not accustomed to having his alteration so prominently announced. The gnarled feet kick again... yet now in silent protest.

“He’s quite lovely in bondage,” the Prince corrects himself. “I should have better guessed... based on your laurels.”    

“We should have more forthrightly presented his modification. But we do consider Markie to be more feminine than masculine at this point. Not a drop of male hormones remaining...”

“So I imagine.”

The doctor notes that the Prince’s gaze intensifies, brow furrowing in thought.

“I’m always looking to diversify my... well my sources of entertainment. The ranch is wonderfully secluded, you can run a boy for miles on the veld, but for the same reason it can be boring unless... shall we term it fresh livestock... yes, unless fresh livestock is procured. Thus my occasional world travels. I like ‘em blond and very fair skinned. Not easily found in Africa... as I am sure you imagine.”

The Prince pauses as the doctor shares in the mirth with a polite chuckle.

“Is this masterpiece of yours available, doctor?” a meaty black hand extending towards Markie’s dangling nakedness. “I wouldn’t run her... him... in harness. Much too dainty. Wouldn’t pull a cart more than a few yards in African heat. But I do require labor in the stables. My boys need a degree of maternal attention. I keep them well cared for... well fed... well exercised... and well fucked,” the latter sentiment coming with a wicked grin.  

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