The Sash - Preparation

Preparation

Copyright 2014

by Chris Bellows

Having offered bladder relief to the remaining steeds, Markie feeds, stuffing heaping spoonfuls of nutritious gruel into seven toothless mouths. Yes, all have had the demanded dental alteration, teeth filed to nothingness, biting precluded, the ability to deny entry to Master’s raging cock greatly impeded.

In finishing, it is time to prepare Thursday for Master’s morning cart ride. Thus, leash and cattle prod in hand, Markie clips the length of leather to Thursday’s nose ring, places the prod most proximate and begins to release the blond form from his sleeping mat.

Markie marvels at the physique, all of the Prince’s human steeds a picture of male vitality. There comes envy as two hands carefully release the right wrist of a well muscled arm. By rote, Thursday partially rolls to his side, knowing to give Markie control, the arm limp as the wrist band is quickly clipped behind his back to his neck collar.  

The left wrist follows. When Markie releases the left ankle cuff, Thursday draws his foot across the mat to join his right. There the ankle bands are connected with a short hobbling chain before final release of the right ankle band.

Then leash in one hand, cattle prod in the other, Thursday is encouraged to arise and shuffle to the cleansing table. There the steed is positioned kneeling, ankle bands released then secured to rings in the bottom corners. The nose leash is tied off forcing the head high. Then, prod always ready to counter resistance, the right wrist band is released then secured to one corner and the left follows, placing Thursday on all fours, well restrained, well spread.  

Despite the many weeks of ownership, apprehension remains. Markie, hands tender and somewhat soothing, will also administer the massive enema which the Prince insists upon. Though the discomfort is notable, the humiliation exceeds. Thursday will not be deemed sufficiently cleansed until he begs for the simple press of the valve to deflate the ineluctable enema nozzle. 

As commanded, Thursday’s cohorts are forced to watch Markie ply her governance. And Markie finds the Prince to be correct, the more the herd watches him/her work a boy’s body with impunity the less and less such resist.

Mentally, emotionally, despite the size and well toned muscling, all control has been ceded to a plumped naked nymph. Such irony!

And Markie has learned such exhilarates.

“Do you like it when I penetrate you, Thursday? Press a big fat enema nozzle into your rectum,” Markie taunts. “Not as big as the Prince, and probably not as enjoyable, but I am sure you want to be clean and please him.”

Thursday remains silent, feeling Markie’s left hand grip his testicles for leverage as the nozzle slithers inward. Air whooshes to expand. A valve is then released to begin the flow of warm water. It calms... at first. Markie smiles slyly knowing that her charge will slowly fill as she cleanses... and fill... and fill. Pressure on the prostate, her gentle touch, both will soon bring tumescence to he thoroughly denied. Who to better understand the curious anatomical reaction than a former male?

A spray of warm water, soap, as Markie washes the entire nakedness she also feels for body hair, verboten and quickly shaven when encountered.

“Please, Miss Markie, enough,” Thursday squirming with the pressure.

“No, you’re to be cleansed inside and out. Be a good boy, just relax and let Markie have her way.”

A rub of the tummy confirms Thursday’s need. Bloated... and expanding... Markie again smiles. Having the intact male beg brings an odd sense of solace... retribution. Perhaps she will never close the valve, comes a brief fancy of cruelty.

But alas, the helpless and well exposed mass of flesh is property of the Prince... not to be impaired. Instead Markie slows the flow then moves to the nose cord immobilizing Thursday’s head. She tightens to bring both a jab of pain and an increase to the slow suffering as Thursday is forced to look skyward.

“Now you’ll be quiet. I will decide when you’ve had enough.”

The tightened cord, Markie well knows, forces a change in posture, further arching the back, better opening the colon, the bowels to welcome more of the massive enema.

Markie turns her head to note the six other human steeds, remaining secured to their sleeping mats,  gawk... a combination of pity for Thursday’s stressed nose ring and bloated belly... and awe of the sang froid with which the neutered stable boy/girl metes punishment.

As expected, Thursday’s entrapped male appendage begins to swell, fighting the spikes of the cock cage. There comes more sound, words repressed, but attempts to stifle reaction to the agony not possible.

With another smile, Markie moves to Thursday’s side, slips her hand between well spread thighs and pats the impressive manly plums.

“Yes, you may be proud of these, but such are useless to you. Simple playthings for me,” Markie taunts with a snicker, “That cock cage getting a little tight for you, ha, ha, ha,” the laugh coming as the fingers move to the stainless steel mesh, jostling with impunity.

A pause, more flow, and Markie takes no pity but knows the Prince will soon want to take his morning jaunt. She closes the valve.

“Thank you, Miss Markie, Thank you,” Thursday instantly sensing relief.

“You’ll hold it for me,” Markie retorts, spraying to rinse away the soapiness.

Always keep them waiting, she tells herself. They are never to know when I choose to exercise my control...