Saturday, December 20, 2014

The Sash - To Be Motivated

To Be Motivated

Copyright 2014

by Chris Bellows

Markie finds his own heart rate racing. Upon preparing to exit the well secured chamber, for the first time she noted the array of implements adorning the walls. Yes, it is a torture chamber indeed, the Queen able to press, pull, pry, squeeze, tear, human flesh with impunity. There was even a small coal fired stove to heat clamps, knives and the many needles... long vicious needles... that which Sir Egbert has come to relish.

The Prince’s quirky depravity seems to be hereditary.

“So, Markie, some motivation for you. Fear,” the words offered with a pleasant laugh.

Having returned to the Palace reception chamber, the seated Queen speaks as Markie stands before her, feet parted, hands on head. Once again she toys with the remnants of her maleness... the tiny penis, the folds of her boy labia. The Queen perhaps envisions her own hands ripping away his testicles. For some strange reason Markie senses distant joy, the diddling fingers, the controlling hand deemed so threatening after touring the secret dungeon. Such brings a frisson of odd excitement.

“Markie, your many sperm samples were sterile. I would hate to believe thwarting my efforts was intentional. Not a single spermatozoa alive.”

“No, your Majesty,” a stunned Markie rejoins. “I carefully sealed every bag and immediately froze,” Markie's concern legitimate.

“I have a vengeful streak, Markie, as you just witnessed. You had best be truthful. Many cells in my dungeon. Your next visit there will be a one way excursion. How were such samples procured?”

“From the steeds. After every run I gathered such for safe keeping.”

“Gathered from where?”

“The Prince, he prefers anal penetration... and rather deeply. It required time to retrieve, done under the guise of cleansing.”

“Too deeply... and too much time. Heat kills the sensitive little squirmy things. As well as exposure to air. Hard to believe the entire world has been populated by such delicate male essence. Your efforts are for naught.” 

“I am so sorry, your Majesty.”

“We will need to try again, utilizing different methods. I have a rather experienced woman, a former reform school matron, who satiates the Palace guard. She will train you. I want you to fellate the Prince... into a condom which you will immediately tie off to seal and then freeze.”

“It would be a privilege to please the Royal penis, your Majesty. But such is not my role at the ranch. I merely tend to, tease and torment his herd. The Prince finds me... undesirable. My charms fail to attract.”

“Can you offer massage?”

“I have experienced such, your Majesty. My nurse.”

“Try to tempt him... when he’s tired and cares not to expend the energy for the silly acrobatic carnal pursuit of anally raping a resisting boy. Men think with their penis, Markie. Seduce him, fellate him, gather my seed.”

“I will try, your Majesty.”

“It’s not possible to place you in a humbler, my neutered little toy. But with another failure, I will assure that your suffering is slow and unending.”

The Queen laughs in feeling Markie tremble. She then turns and presses an intercom button.

“Send in Helen,” the Queen commands.

“You are not to divulge to Helen why I want you to acquire this talent. I am going to tell her you will also be sucking the phalli of the Palace guard and that I insist on neatness. You’ll see what I mean.”

The reception room door opens. In steps a surprisingly prim Caucasian woman, conservatively attired, not at all brandishing the aura of a woman of pleasure. She is handsome, not ravishing, staid not flashy. She enters with an air of authority... perhaps that of a strict school teacher. No Palace visitor would surmise her Royal function. Markie assumes her restrained presentment is intentional.

For the young members of the Palace guard she must be considered maternal.

Markie recalls the Queen’s comment during her visit... ‘I have my guards emptied regularly. Keeps them calm... and loyal’.

How devilish to have the deed performed by a mature woman of authority. Certainly not to be considered the masculine encounter about which most young males fantasize, being brought to orgasm by such an imposing figure. But if the Queen insists that is how Palace pleasure is meted... then that is how subordinate males will receive.    

“Helen, I am going to offer the boys an alternative form of sexual release. Thought it would be fun to insist they have relations with a castrated male. Rather distressing for them, don’t you think? Would make your offerings even more preferable.”

The woman nods and suppresses a smile. It is evident that she has a degree of disdain for the male.

“Helen specializes in the so termed ruined orgasm, Markie. In the end, after much teasing, she withdraws all efforts and forces a boy to more leak his essence rather then spurt in ecstasy. The hormonal release calms, but denial of ultimate male pleasure keeps them randy and eager for the next try.

“Have Markie practice on one of the undeserving guards, Helen. Someone on report.”

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