The Trophy, Segment Five

“Did you nap well my dear? Posing for Hanson tired you I’m sure.”

“Arlen, I can’t sleep like that... not very well.”

“A little too stressful? And do mind your manners.”

“Yes, sir. Sorry Sir.”

It’s dinner time. Arlen Jacobs Casperson sits enjoying a sumptuous meal with his wife and an elegantly dressed Mrs. Grayson, uniform dispensed for the remainder of the evening. It is an otherwise charming family scene... but for the fact that Mrs. Casperson remains totally nude, wrists and neck encapsulated in the Martin Rigid Stock, gleaming belt of steel assuring chastity and that the replicas of Mr. Casperson’s manhood remain nesting deeply.

Afternoon naps are mandatory, a hooded and leashed Mrs. Casperson returned to the office of her husband. Hood remaining in place, there she sits on the floor upright, the ceiling cables attached to the Rigid Stock to assure she cannot lie down. Hobbling chain removed, her ankle shackles remain in place, secured such that her legs are spread left and right as far as the demanding Mrs. Grayson can part them.

And further to Mrs. Casperson’s chagrin, that is quite far.

“Well, you were breathing quite slowly and deeply for a time. I’m sure you got some rest,” husband Arlen once again glancing throughout the afternoon to adore the breasts of perfection while following the market.

“More like I passed out, Sir.”

Master Arlen takes another spoonful of rich lobster bisque. Mrs. Grayson spoons from a bowl of white thickness and offers the sustenance to the waiting lips of her helpless charge. It’s bland tasteless fare, but Mrs. Casperson knows it is all she will be given and thus to partake, despite the insalubrious nature of the offering.  

She is to be fattened... it has been decreed.

“Why is it again we spread her like that Mrs. Grayson?” the inquiry ostensibly naive.

“It’s the inserts, Mr. Casperson. To otherwise allow the pelvis to move about, your wife could oscillate the vaginal and anal implants, possibly achieving an orgasm. She needs to be well supervised when in the sitting position... just as she is now,” Mrs. Grayson’s proximity at the dinner table not solely for feeding

“An orgasm! Well... we’ll not have that. Not without my consent.”

The command brings a wry smile, reminding the highly trained nurse of the afternoon bath, enemas, massage, and feathering.

A maid pops from the kitchen, serving platters of prime rib. Acclimated to the deviant scene, she notes Mrs. Casperson’s half empty bowl of whatever, steps to an armoire and returns to ladle more of the thick white for consumption. Her presence brings distress, Mrs. Casperson not only placed on display but essentially deemed to be inferior to a servant.

“Thank you, Maria,” Arlen Jacobs Casperson so much enjoying his wife’s discomfort.

The maid returns to the kitchen. The prime rib is attacked, the fragrance compelling.

“Maria does such a wonderful job, keeping the house neat and tidy and us well fed. You have an idyllic life my dear. Not a care in the world. Don’t have to lift a finger. Just to be adored. Can you please, Mrs. Grayson...” Master Arlen nodding to the rubber encased nipples.

Mrs. Grayson is well aware of the gesture. Though protruding, pointing like pencils, the desired firmness, the exhibition which is so much coveted, has somewhat waned. The soup spoon is placed aside. Mrs. Casperson blushes as nimble fingers ever so gently flick and diddle the pink, purplish tips. Within moments they return to standing at attention.

“Really Sir,” Mrs. Casperson’s protest meekly postulated. “Please...”

“You know how I prefer you, dear. It’s mandatory. You’re to be presented. Posing... exhibited... displayed.... in the manner I desire.”

“What about these rubber things, Sir? They’re quite... ah... constricting.”

“You’ll become accustomed. Mrs. Grayson is going to... well... let’s say improve your presentation. Plus they’ll be more... term it... functional.” 

A smiling Arlen Jacobs Casperson swigs a fine Merlot then returns his attention to the succulent beef. He is sanguine, the power to transform quietly exhilarating. Plus in having spent the afternoon observing his cherished Mrs. Casperson, listening to her pleas as the knowing nurse brought her to the very brink of orgasm, there is warmth within his loins.

Tonight, it will be early to bed, Mrs. Grayson’s final deed to bring forth for him the ecstatic release so long denied to his ravishing wife.