Saturday, April 22, 2017
Will be working diligently to finish this story and get it published.
Stool no longer required, Madeleine Cartwright smiles with her reverie as, just as trainer Marcy stood before pony boy Tommy on that enlightening summer’s eve, hands go to her tight skirt to roll up the hem then likewise enshroud the head.
Yes, Tommy has indeed been trained to taste... and more than the essence of the feminine love nest. She feels the lips of her steed find her urethral opening, pursing in preparation. She opens herself, assured in knowing that not a drop is ever spilled... not after the numerous canings dispensed for sloppiness. Her excretions gush, smiling in not hearing the slightest gulp, sensing no swallowing. Yes, Tommy opens his gullet, her flow going to his stomach without impedance.
To so forthrightly take what her body casts away... and so eagerly... is gratifyingly symbolic. He savors her and all she offers.
“Get you some dinner, Tommy. If you remain thirsty I’ll water you as well. I know you miss Miss Marcy,” stepping back to lower her skirt. “I’m sure her offerings were substantial... and appreciated.”
“Yes Ma’am. I miss her.”
Trainer Marcy has moved onward. Madeleine regrets the departure, but funds have depleted. The accumulated wealth of the late ranch patriarch Edger Cartwright remains substantial, Madeleine able to live comfortably. But the neutered servants had to be let go as well, ending the negative cash flow.
In thinking of Pat and Matt, their lithe nakedness seeming ubiquitous about the vast ranch house, there comes a warm smile which turns deviant with the recollection of finally understanding their true role. Having been brought up with their presence, their only covering the straps of their ungainly high heeled shoes, Madeleine learned only after her father’s passing that such cute plumped forms were present not so much to tend to household chores as to offer oral gratification.
‘Women of our ilk don’t condescend to such sordidness,’ mother Cartwright explained with a contemptuous snort some weeks after the funereal. ‘I wanted your father pleased and satiated, though not by another woman. Pat and Matt were a compromise.’
The neutered duo were kind, obedient yet playful. And in being with little sexual drive, mother Cartwright assigned them the task of bathing and dressing the little girl Madelein. Pink ribboned emaciated penises flopping about beneath emptied puffs of male flesh, toddler Madeleine was given to giggle incessantly. Thus in being initially introduced to Tommy’s serpent of an organ, there came alarm.
Madeleine strolls to a waiting bowl of gruel, stirs with a wooden spoon then returns, offering a large dollop.
“I’m going to run you tomorrow, Tommy. It should be a nice day. Take you to the coop square. I have not put you on display for a while.”
“I’d rather not, Miss Maddy... go to the square.”
“Well you’re going... it’s good for you... for your self esteem... or lack thereof.”
The evening meal is large, the only sustenance offered for the day. Madeleine Cartwright patiently spoons dollop after dollop, the fare thick... fruits, vegetables, yogurt blended with raw egg... the formulation nutritious but otherwise unpalatable. It’s not to be enjoyed. Enjoyment for the pony boy is laboring in harness under whip and crop.
Meal concluded, the bowl is exchanged for a basin. The stable floor to be spared of sloppiness, Madeleine positions herself between the well parted thighs and carefully reaches for the long thick manhood. The ringed tip is released from its upright position, held at the navel by a gold piercing. A knowing hand carefully lowers, aligning with the basin.
“Psst, psst, Tommy. Empty yourself for me.”
Thumb and forefinger continue to hold the reverse Prince Albert piercing, the golden ring thrust through the urethral opening but exiting the top of the shaft rather than the bottom. The special configuration leaves the hypersensitive underside of the penis tip free for frottaging and feathering and also offers a convenient manner to control the ten each length. For otherwise the long thick shaft is untouchable. It’s been spiked. Row after row of tiny diamond studs have been meticulously implanted in the penis shaft, the sharp tips untouchable. Thus the male appendage is not strokeable, and normal copulation forever denied.
Tommy will not again achieve normal sexual release... vaginal or manual.
The process required many weeks, many dollars, much patience and the endurance of much pain. But mother Cartwright was most pleased, the many implants resulting not only in denial but an organ which scintillates proudly during sunny morning jaunts. And the irony of having to bestow pleasure so daintily... the male erogenous zone reduced to a patch of penile flesh no larger than a thumb print... offers such feminine empowerment.
If and when Tommy is permitted to discharge, such is offered in a distressingly enfeebled manner... and brings both amusement and exhilaration to she in charge
Tommy obediently opens himself, the deed performed throughout the day. Never to urinate on his own, his ringed penis mandates release from his navel piercing and feminine supervision.
“Good boy,” Miss Maddy coos as the bladder so humbly performs.
“May I discharge for you Miss Maddy?”
Such a meek query for a normally virile deed. The words bring a smile, pony boy Tommy having no conception of the schedule for his next release nor the day of the month.
“No Tommy. Month end is next week. I’ll put you in your chair then.”
Equestrienne Madeleine Cartwright gently jostles the penis ring sending a last droplet of urine to the basin. She then lifts, rehooking the gold loop to the navel piercing, securing the lengthy strip of male flesh for the evening.
Stepping away she recalls first handling the male appendage, years ago mother Cartwright seeking to instill feminine empowerment in daughter Madeleine...