The Sash - Rules

Rules

Copyright 2014

by Chris Bellows

Freed of the sash, Markie, now completely naked, rests on the plush carpeting of the sleek jet. The engines quietly spool, soon to be propelling the sizable craft towards Africa. The Prince gazes downward, brimming with lustiness at his latest acquisition, flight phone to his right ear. Markie feels... well he’s not sure. The man is not only large and muscular but handsome. Such contrasts markedly to Markie’s feminized and well groomed... well exposed... soft flesh. Perhaps there is envy. Markie, robbed by a doctor’s scalpel, a subsequent deluge of estrogen, of any hint of former masculinity, finds the Prince’s physicality to be imposing... but oddly alluring. 

“Bought me a new colt... plus what I think what will be an interesting addition to the stable. Have the van meet me at the airport. Flight time six hours... we’re taxiing now,” the whine of the engines rising.

Markie looks to his right further down the isle. Joining the curious duo on the lengthy flight to Africa is a supine mummified form also resting on the carpet. Breathing tubes aside, it is completely covered in circles of white bandaging Certain anatomical bumps about the pubes, lacking hillocks at the chest, suggest the form is male. The Prince notes Markie’s inquiring peer, returning the phone set to its cradle. 

“That’s the new colt,” meaty black hands extending. “I like ‘em strong and virile... so for travel it’s best to keep ‘em well bound, blinded and in total silence. It’s like ripening good fruit. Once at the ranch, shackling and some caning will obviate any thoughts of resistance.”

The hands become surprisingly gentle, unbuckling the gag from the back of Markie’s head. Throughout the process of being examined and purchased, he has remained forcibly silenced. As the straps loosen, the Prince carefully pulls towards the front, noting that the implement does not easily fall free. With curiosity he tugs and into the cabin lighting a long stout dildo gag slowly slides from the depths of Markie’s throat. At the end come the cruel flippy strands of rubber which serve to constantly trigger the gag reflex, teasing the depths of the gullet to ceaselessly spur a choking sensation should the bearer not learn to concentrate and control his throat.  

“The doctor is thorough in her oral training... and in earnest.”

“May I speak, sir,” Markie working to clear his throat of much spittle.

“Yes,” the hands placing the enormous length to the side.

“It was Nurse Benson, sir. Her attention was consummate, the gag offered with the slightest sound if I did not silently take the thrust of a dildo.”

The Prince smiles. Ah the cruelty of the female, he thinks to himself, the dark hands smoothing the golden locks, required prinking caused by the gag straps. 

“It is best for you. Have you been put under the penis? A real penis?”

“No sir,” Markie responding glumly in admitting what he realizes is a shortcoming.

“Well, you will have adequate opportunity at the ranch. You’ll serve there... me and the livestock.”

“May I have my shoes, sir? I cannot walk without them.”

“Not necessary for now. You may crawl. And we’ll need to find you something more... durable... for working in the stables.”

“I know nothing about horses, sir.”

“You’ll not need to know horses, Markie. You’ll need to know men. Very strong, powerful and virile men. I have a certain penchant which very few men are able to accommodate. It is only in being both wealthy and of Royal birth that I can keep a boy... many boys.

“I like blond ‘em... and light skinned... smooth... strong... well hung, as they say. But most importantly, they must be ragingly heterosexual. I like it when they quiver in disgust at my touch. Like it when they spasm in repulsion when I enter them. I enjoy the wrenching as I face fuck... the tightening of the sphincter as they futilely attempt to resist sodomy... long mornings of sodomy.”

The Prince smiles. Markie notes a bulge in his slacks, his own words spurring priapism.

“Yes, it’s power, Markie. I have it... and they don’t. And I bring a boy to revulsion each and every day... one for each day of the week, ha, ha, ha. That one there will replace my Thursday boy. He became too complacent... began to enjoy the penis. That’s when I send them off... to prison where they can get all the black cock they desire, ha, ha, ha.” 

“I am not that way, sir. I am more girl than boy... now... with the doctor’s transformation.”

“That’s obvious, Markie,” the hands again proving to be surprisingly tender as the right fingers diddle Markie’s left nipple. “But I have a rule at the ranch... actually many rules. But the first is that the only penis that ever spurts is that of Royalty... mine. So when the doctor put you on display it gave rise to thought. I’ll certainly not want a stable hand that can ejaculate... that would not do. And when women tend to my boys it takes an edge off the... well call it the frustration. Denial is constant and unrelenting at the ranch. A feminine hand, though never to bring orgasm, would still be viewed as a source of relief. That won’t do as well. But the boys need to be fed... and bathed... and kept shaven... not to mention having their cock cages cleansed. And I think a neutered little girly boy is just the right form for the role. They’ll be cringing in abhorrence under your tender care and touch... just as much as my more brutal penetration.”

The Prince pauses, unzipping himself. Markie’s eyes widen in amazement as a mammoth uncircumcised penis, semi erect, springs into the cabin lights. It would seem to exceed the size of Nurse Benson’s most formidable rubber phalli.

“Yes, brutal... wouldn’t you agree?”