Saturday, November 30, 2019
Sequel to "To Come on Command' and 'Bringing Up Baby Edward'
Institutionalized by My Wife’s Lover
by Chris Bellows
Nurse Abigail Cole
In a way I feel much sympathy for the subordinate male who rashly displays contempt for the alpha male. For just as canines are isolated... perhaps put down... when dangerous conduct is exhibited, the contentious behavior of any subordinate male who is expected to orally serve must likewise be addressed. There must be trust in an oral servant... mouth... tongue... lips... never teeth. If not to be trusted then... well... here lies the result.
“Do you remember me, Mr. Devereau?”
Strapped in place, naked of course, harness restraining almost all cranial motion, there can be no nod or shaking of the head. Plus the molt gag cruelly holding open the mouth inhibits speech. Likewise the cuffs and many thick nylon straps restrict even a hand gesture or a wriggle of the toes.
“Waggle your tongue for me if so,” I improvise.
The extensively trained wet pink appendage presses past the steel of the molt gag and obscenely waggles about.
“Good boy. Yes, I’m Abbie... now Nurse Abbie.”
So he recalls. Before becoming a psychiatric nurse at the Institute, I served as receptionist and trainee in the offices of gynecologist Dr. Michelle White. The woman of authority offered services for women who needed to strengthen their relationships... conjugal and otherwise. And that’s where Mr. Devereau and I had significant contact years ago. I must suppose when you fill the bowels of a naked man and bring him to beg for relief... the recollections tend to linger.
“Do you know why you are here?”
There comes a throaty gurgle, no tongue waggle. I must assume that means ‘no’ in my improvised modus of communication.
I nod, pausing to graciously grab a squeeze bottle and hydrate, our latest inductee more of a potted plant in terms of required care. Since years ago I read his dossier when first arriving at the office of Dr. Michelle White... and of course have been updated by his admittance papers... I know he has endured extensive toilet training... able to ingest without the need to swallow. I thus squeeze to bring forth a generous rate of flow, smiling as such disappears without a swallow or a gulp. Maybe he was thirsty, maybe not. Such things are no longer under his purview. He will get what his nurse decides to give him.
“You bit your Master, Mr. Devereau. The man who has been cuckolding you, giving your wife the pleasure you cannot provide... and bestowing her with so many children. That’s disastrous for an oral servant. It’s ingrained for you to so serve with your mouth, tongue and lips... your life’s role and purpose... and now that is to be forbidden. You’re deemed untrustworthy.”
He’s been held in bondage for many days, much time under sedation. It is my job to evaluate... perhaps there can be rehabilitation. We do that here at the Institute... try to do that. Here we treat dominant women... those who have abused their subordinates... and compliment such by providing treatment for submissive males as well... who have broken the trust of their superiors. It’s kind of a group therapy thing. And until there comes initial evaluation, much precaution must be taken... ala the extensive Segufix restraints within which Mr. Devereau finds himself ensnared, and the cruel molt gag to obviate another bite.
“You’re going to be here a long time, Mr. Devereau. I’m sure you’re aware of the financial resources of the man you bit. The Institute is expensive, but his pockets are deep. And as he explained, since he’s not through fucking.... ah... enjoying your wife, it’s best that you be our guest... for a long, long time.”
I can see my blatant words disturb... but so be it. In a way it’s part of the therapy... enduring the agitation brought by the caprice of the governing female... and I will be governing.
“So let me explain the protocol here. I am your nurse. I will decide on your care... see the white uniform? Well that means I am on the staff... and you are to obey the staff. On occasion you may see... be visited... by other women dressed... well... differently. They are patients here, also undergoing care, evaluation, and possible rehabilitation. You will be obedient to them as well... sort of humor them. Most have done some untoward things with regard to their subordinate husbands or boyfriends... in some cases girlfriends. And to a certain extent that may continue until we... ah... sort of temper their conduct... ah... things like learning to cane a man in moderation. Some have gotten carried away in the past... that type of thing.”
There comes more gurgling... I hope not a sign of futile resistance. I fear I am overly frightening him. But for biters, sometimes shock therapy is best. They can be the most incorrigible.
“In a few days, we’ll have the dental work done and have you in a nice set of masturbation mittens. Then... no more bondage... not during the day anyway.”
Having watered, it comes to mind that there may be need for bladder release. I arise to obtain a receptacle looking to his uncovered pubes. Penis secured for many years, in being inducted here the small padlock was cut away. When he was hastily extracted from his Master’s mansion, knocked unconscious in being punched before incisors did any lasting damage, his key did not make the journey. Remaining in place is the nasty Prince Albert ring, almost untouchable with the many scabrous points. I know of his extensive estrogen intake over the years... that he is impotent, trained to release... dribble effluent... at his wife’s command. So being locked in chastity won’t be necessary here at the institute. There will be no toying... not by him anyway.
I cannot ignore the breasts which in my younger days I dutifully measured while gynecomastia was induced... cannot avoid smoothing my fingers about the hairless flesh of a pubescent boy, his Master having all follicles lasered away. My touch brings the nipples to crinkle and stand in salute. I smile, Mr. Devereau’s rehabilitation may be quite lengthy. There are too many undergoing therapy who will enjoy his company... and enjoy the attention of reformed oral skills.
Saturday, November 23, 2019
This will be the last posted segment from this story.
If you've read 'Bringing Up Baby Edward', consider offering a review on Lulu.
An Evening with Edward - Nicole Barnes
“I miss the wine... otherwise what a great dinner,” laboring to exit lover Edward’s Mercedes, baby bump feeling enormous.
Something about being so pregnant that brings an insatiable need for food. We dined at a most expensive restaurant, I ate twice the normal fare. So it’s been a pleasant evening... and pleasant will be changing to pleasurable.
Leaving my car behind, we arrive at Edward’s plush mansion. It’s roomy but not overly large. Since Edward travels extensively he has not indulged in anything outrageous as do most with mega millions. But six bedrooms is more than enough... and he has regularly hinted the space can be filled with me... and little Edward... and little Edwina... and little Jack... and little Bonnie.
He wants me pregnant, constantly, so much enjoying the evidence of his mastery that in his mind I am to show year round. And this notion comes before baby Edward has popped!
Through the front door I waddle. He takes my coat... then my scarf, draping over his arm then extending his hands. I giggle... knowing that he wants my shoes, my dress, my bra, my hideous expandable panties. He wants me naked, my rotund form seeming to excite him as much as my former shapeliness. My shyness in appearing like a sumo wrestler quickly fades with Edward’s lustful gazing. It is gratifying to know I remain attractive to him... seemingly even more.
“No maid. I gave her the night off,” responding to my quizzical look. “You know I like getting as close to little Edward as I can.”
The gentle words come as I oblige, kicking off my shoes. Edward will take all my things and symbolically stuff such in a closet somewhere. He’s a powerful man and enjoys his power. I will not see clothing again until it is time to depart hours hence. He will remain clothed until it is time... when he decides it is time to fuck me. It’s a teasing exchange of power, and despite my advanced state, expecting in some ten weeks, I feel my juices flow.
Naked, I step to him when he returns from the closet, my clothing stowed. I reach to place my arms about his neck as I let him rub my swollen belly.
“Did your man finish editing that video tape?”
“Dropped it off at the doctor’s office yesterday. I want it to be a surprise. Something more to keep Mike on the edge.”
“And the... ah... images?”
“All cropped out. No facial features. And that nice big cock of yours even looks bigger. Mike will be quite envious... and there’s lots for him to get off on... with all the... you know.”
“He’ll know it’s you?”
I giggle and nod. Such silliness. Mike knows my body most intimately. And in being many months into pregnancy, how many other women with a plump belly are videotaped while having deep penetrative sex. Still, I want to make sure Edward is aware... full disclosure.
“Hardwood... you know the film director... he had me do a voice over... narrating in the background... so to speak. So while all the grunts, groans and moans can be heard... particularly when you bring me to orgasm... you know I kind of shriek... in my most sultry voice I tell how I’m feeling while a nice big bull stud takes me doggie style. Then I tell Mike to be a good boy... obey his nurse... and then at the end command him to come and fill his plate for me. Though Mike has described it more like he’s being bled... sort of oozing... no outright pleasure. He says he experiences nothing more than this calm and comforting feeling as he slowly discharges.”
“And that’s how he... ah... obtains release?”
“Yes. It’s the only way he is ever to obtain release. This afternoon while you and I were having a marvelous meal, Mike’s hormones were being... rebalanced is the clinical term used. While watching a recording of his wife with her lover... her nicely hung and attentive lover,” embracing and offering a sensuous kiss.
I can feel Edward harden. My cruelty excites. That I so dominant and govern my husband then totally submit to him, acknowledging him as the alpha male in my life, brings gratification. And that in turn leads to my gratification.
Standing naked, having him feel his baby brings an urge... to fuck. And spurs his thoughts... of possession. He wants me... more of me.
“There’s room here,” head gesturing to the second floor
The subject arises again.
“You don’t have to dump your husband, Nickie. There’s a small room off the kitchen... the servants quarters. He can stay there... ready to serve.”
“What about Modena?” I flippantly inquire about the current maid.
“She’ll move to one of the nice big bedrooms, something to better symbolize her authority. And he’ll report to her. She’ll train him. With little Edward running about, there will be additional work... and as things get sorted out... your husband learns his place and his duties... little Edward can have brothers and sisters.”
I giggle, such grandiose plans.
“And when we run out of bedrooms?” teasing his fantasy as I lower to kneel before my god, hands going to his zipper.
“I’ll buy a bigger house.”
Edward stills himself, focusing on the thrill of feeling my fingers work within his undershorts to find his enormous manhood. Such a marvelous cock!
“I have Mike serve in the nude, Edward. You’re not the only one with a penchant for asserting power.”
I find a rapidly engorging phallus, gently guiding it into the room light.
“Modena won’t mind. He remains locked right? Harmless?”
“Yes,” my reply comes as my hands tenderly hold the swelling appendage and I lick the underside. “Always, I will not have it end.”
With my stern words of determination I feel him quiver. This brings a smile, his power yielding to something as meek as a tongue.
“But it will be a problem as little Edward matures, Nickie... the nudity... and it matters not whether that occurs here or you decline and remain at your house. I don’t want my boy exposed to... shenanigans.”
“He has few clothes... I threw out most. Why don’t you buy him something, Edward... something appropriate for his station. Maybe a uniform... you have Modena in a uniform when you have guests...” planting a thought. “Something cute and frilly. And by the way the shenanigans are necessary for me... a woman of my ilk. And deep within, Mike would not be happy without feminine supervision... strict and exacting feminine supervision. And speaking of shenanigans, when I called Dr. Michelle’s office to suggest he will need a ride home, the receptionist told me that Mike took well to his enema. So... Master Edward... what of shenanigans? I understand you’re paying for his treatments... but really!”
My words rebuke but my tone is playful. Edward smiles... that of a cat having eaten a canary.
“I felt he’d enjoy the humiliation. You’re not the only one with a degree of understanding for the inadequate male. I was assured that it would be done in the most degrading and uncomfortable manner... a thrill for him. Ask him about it later, when he tastes me.”
Edward is well aware of Mike’s clean up duties. And his suggestion heightens my needs as my swishing, teasing tongue has brought him to full stand. I so much need to feel him inside me!
“I want you, Edward, I want you deep... and often,” encouraging the after dinner recreation to begin.
Edward can go two or three times in an evening... but at his age needs respite to reload. So I want to begin... need to begin!
I withdraw my hands and go to all fours, parting my thighs, arching my back, my now softened and plump derriere pointing to the ceiling, replicating the pose in the videotape. He’ll take me here... on the livingroom floor... later in the bedroom.
“Give Mike’s tongue a challenge,” doggie style sex and Edward’s extensive length meaning that my anterior fornix will be deeply splattered with his seed. “And try not to poke baby Edward.”
Saturday, November 16, 2019
Waiting Room Antics - Michael Devereau
“Nurse Reinholdt will drive you home. Your wife called and said she’d be out late. She’s with her lover... the father of her baby.”
Of that I am aware. But for some reason the receptionist, aspiring psychiatric nurse Abbie, takes glee in announcing such to all present in the waiting area.
“Did you enjoy your enema Mr. Devereau? You squirmed quite a bit.”
I’d like to call the pretty young girl a bitch, with a streak of sadism antithetical to her prospective profession. But what would that do?.. other than to extend her joy of tormenting the subordinate male. Besides, as intended, physically I am composed, feeling as weak and docile as a lamb. After a month of chastity and denial I have been permitted to discharge, male juices ebbing from my locked penis onto my blue plate... formerly the prompt for supervised ecstatic eruption. So I merely nod despite the emotional agitation, silence ingrained, and the girl smiles and points to a chair next to a woman waiting to see Dr. Michelle.
“The videotape was amazing. You must know it was your wife... doing that.”
Yes, I do... and I glumly nod, hoping the subject matter, the source of my emotional turmoil, will drop. Trained to come on a woman’s command, tonight such came from a videotape of my wife... and her lover.
“Nurse Reinholdt will be through in a few minutes,” gladdened the exchange ends.
In seating myself I begin to reach for a magazine. I note Abbie’s hands go to her head, gesturing for me to assume the position of respect mandated while waiting for my masturbation nurse. My hands obediently go to the back of my head. There will be no reading, nothing to divert my thoughts.
“So your wife has a child by another man. I’m told that can be exciting for certain men... men like you,” the woman so casual in inducing conversation by way of my wife’s cuckoldry.
“She’s expecting, yes,” my voice low... possibly interpreted as timid in politely replying but not wishing to extend the conversation.
Yet the woman must continue.
“So a baby. You have others? Children of your own?”
“So that explains it. Impotent. And every woman strives for motherhood. So it’s destined for your wife to take a lover... and to keep a man like you to assure occasional oral attention... and that there’s a nice comfortable nest for her... her and the baby of course. It’s instinctive. Gracious of her to... ah... arrange appointments for you here.”
Her words inflame. I am not impotent. And I am not kept. Or am I? And what does the woman know of my oral capabilities... and the degrading yet invigorating appointments?
“You’re not dressed for the weather. Short sleeve shirt, light slacks, no socks. Do you have a jacket or coat? It’s freezing out,” the woman becoming irritatingly maternal... though the change of subject matter is welcomed.
Dare I tell her that wife Nicole deprives me of such essential covering to assure I don’t stray after my appointment? That what little clothing I have is carefully locked away... controlled... covering granted only while working the yard or required for fulfilling obligations outside the house such as this evening?
I am saved from further embarrassment when Nurse Reinholdt steps into the reception area, donning a heavy coat.
“Come Mr. Devereau. I will take you home... but there’s a stop to make. Your wife has suggested you need special training.”
This spurs more, the woman naturally loquacious.
“Training! A man his age should... ah... by now have the necessary skills to...”
“The subordinate male should always strive for perfection,” Nurse Reinholdt gratefully interrupts. “Even the best tongue work can be improved,” my gratitude quickly turning to chagrin as she reaches to take my hand.
“Come. It’s cold out. I’ll walk you to the car. Stay near me to keep warm.”
Half a head taller, her firm grip evidences her superior strength. And I am to indeed be walked... like a child. The woman smiles as I humbly stand... a knowing smile.
Saturday, November 9, 2019
Seeing Nurse Reinholdt - Michael Devereau
Nickie drops me off at the offices of Dr. Michelle White. The monthly appointment is scheduled late in the afternoon so she can have an early dinner with wealthy financier Edward while I undergo treatment. An early dinner is a euphemism for having sex. Formerly such dalliances were late on Friday nights. With her condition, of late, returning home in the wee hours of Saturday morning has been too exhausting. Thus the change in her cuckolding.
And I console myself... at least I am no longer picking up the cost of a lavish meal on a stretched credit card.
I enter the reception area with my appointment card at the ready. In the offices of Dr. Michelle White there is a rule of silence for the subordinate male. Treating me is an extension of her gynecological practice and with the reception area filled with female patients, the doctor considers it to be an affront to have a male even so much as speak in a haven and sanctuary for women.
So without words I present the card to the young and alluring Abbie whom I have learned is more than a receptionist. She is in graduate school, attaining an advanced degree in aberrant psychology. This explains her enthusiasm on my first appointment months ago in assisting Nurse Reinholdt with my treatment.
The card lists my name, appointment time and date and a code divulging the nature of my treatment. All superfluous since by now Abbie knows me... and the debasing nature of my so termed treatment.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Devereau. Here to be masturbated again,” her voice loud and assertive, announcing to all both my name and the reason for my visit. “Doesn’t seem like a month since I last saw you. Preparation room five please. We’ll want you stripped naked... hands on head... feet parted... facing the door.”
Despite her youth, the words come as commands. With the embarrassment, I hastily nod, eager to get away from the bevy of women... now tittering with the knowledge of my visit.
It’s been explained to wife Nicole that unending chastity has undesirable side effects. Physically the prostate gland can wither... and over time the endocrine system will cease producing the hormones necessary to keep me on the edge... as Dr. Michelle has suggested is the emotional condition in which to have me best condescend to my wife’s needs.
Thus, as young Abbie has suggested, I am to be masturbated... ongoing hormone production stimulated by draining me of the perceived excess.
I go to room five and within seconds bare myself. Clothing is rare these days, naked at all times while serving at home, and with just a loose shirt, slack and shoes... no underwear, socks or belt... the waiting hook in preparation room five accepts my things and I assume the mandated pose in wait.
And I wait... and I wait.
I have come to conclude that the long interval is deliberate, in a way subordinating myself to the imposing nurse without her even being present. And indeed, when I think about what is to happen, the faint, distant joy to be attained contrasted with what wife Nickie describes as her earth shattering orgasms while cuckolding me, my locked penis begins to engorge. These monthly visits are it... in terms of spermatic release... the key to the small padlock long gone... purportedly gone... Nickie professing to have no knowledge of its whereabouts.
As an engineer... former engineer now aspiring nanny... I am fully aware that the lock can be easily cut. But such belligerence would be quickly and easily detected... the resulting punishment not imaginable. And then to what advantage during the short interval while freed? The gruff, scabrous tip of my penis ring makes vaginal penetration impossible... not that Nickie would cede to it. And stroking myself would be possible only wearing a thick rubber glove of some type. Not overly sensuous.
No, cutting the lock would result in some moments of unfulfilling stiffness... otherwise leading to nothing... no ultimate male satiation.
The door opens, ending my thoughts. Nurse Reinholdt enters... blonde, Teutonic, tall, broad shouldered, imposing as stated. I remain silent, my eyes fancifully able to see beneath her crisp white uniform. The woman has the physique of a well trained athlete... Olympian... her strength such that she could pick me up and toss me about like a rag doll. Thighs honed, arms swelling with muscling, abdominals rippling... Nickie is not the only woman I have been trained to orally serve.
She in turn assesses me, standing arms akimbo, just her glare bringing me to bashfully blush in my nakedness. Finally she steps forth. An arm extends, the right hand going to my chest. A finger diddles with my left nipple then right. Such obediently crinkle in response to her bold touch.
“I can always tell when a man needs my attention, Mr. Devereau. The nipples... they sit up and beg for me,” the German accent so authoritative.
They do, turning to pebbles, the abundance of hormones bringing heightened sensitivity.
“A series of enemas first, Mr. Devereau... soapy with a few cold water rinses... a nice thorough cleansing. It will relax you... and you’ll not soil my glove.”
My mouth opens... I search for words of protest... the humiliation, the discomfort too much. My words are cut off, the finger going to my lips to hush.
“Say nothing... your benefactor insists. And Abbie will supervise... it’s not a task for senior medical staff,” her directive coming as she points to previously unused corner of the austere room.
There is a tiled area, well drained, plumbing fixtures beckoning those who are to endure a high colonic.
“On all fours, buttocks to the door... and wait.”
I comply, cursing my benefactor. He is Edward... my mind picturing him at this time with my wife, enjoying a glass of wine before they fuck... doggie style... while my bowels fill... and fill... and fill.
Wednesday, November 6, 2019
I have published the referenced story, sequel to 'To Come on Command'.
21,600 words, $5.50.
21,600 words, $5.50.
Saturday, November 2, 2019
Bringing Up Baby Edward
(Sequel to 'To Come on Command')
by Chris Bellows
My New Life - Michael Devereau
“Is it safe? You know... ah... having...”
“Having sex, Mike? Of course it’s safe. Dr. Michelle says it’s fine. Just have to find a comfortable position. I’m not going to deny pleasure to the father of my child... not like I do you.”
I kneel in nakedness, wrists cuffed behind my back, tummy pressing the top of my so termed fucking box... a misnomer at this point. I have not copulated with the squishy rubber cylinder cleverly wedged into the glory hole in many, many months. Instead, wife Nicole, 6 months pregnant and showing, sits back in a kitchen chair, knees parted, mons presented, heels in the brackets to the left and right of my head.
She has been earlier this evening with her lover Edward and it is clean up time, her quim filled with essence. She smiles, she needlessly points. For I know what is expected. I know of its consistency... I know of its taste. Plus since the weight of baby Edward... yes, it is definitely a boy... presses on her bladder there comes special timeliness in my oral efforts... not only cleansing, bringing the mild yet pleasant orgasms of endless cunnilingus... but graciously accepting her excretions as well. And indeed, as I crane my neck, purse my lips and extend my tongue to begin my task, her growing belly presses to my forehead. I can feel baby Edward... sired by another man... to be gestated in my wife’s womb... as my tongue is permitted to gently lave where another man’s penis has plundered.
Such subjugation... such humiliation!
Nicole has in the past explained that after an evening of exhilarating copulation, having to yield to the potent phallus of the alpha male, there is particular joy with a contrasting sense of vanquishment... the oral servitude of the subordinate male.
So I lick, taking in an initial sample. The scent, the thickness, the salty bitterness tells me it has indeed been lover Edward.
“In my condition, for sex you just have to find the right position, Mike. I used to ride Edward’s ten inches... cowgirl... reverse cowgirl. But with the added weight of baby Edward, it’s now doggie style. He grasps my breasts and squeezes delightfully. But... you know... even that will have to change when I begin to let down.”
Nicole reveres in discussing details of her trysts. Since I remain... my penis remains... under lock and key, there is some theory expounded by gynecologist Dr. Michelle White that the explicit verbiage keeps me on the edge... frustrated... and that in turn keeps the beta male eager to please. And as I feel my entrapped penis begin to stir, twinges evidencing a degree of arousal, perhaps there is validity to the theory. For with my Prince Albert piercing firmly locked to a guiche piercing penetrating my anus, attempting to stiffen can only bring pain. And despite the many months of enduring the chastity configuration, the reaction is consistent. I tell myself it is because I enjoy knowing that Nickie is happy... learning of her achieving the satiation and ecstasy that I cannot provide. But I have been counseled otherwise... that it is a reaction of capitulation and my joy in so doing... knowing that my wife is the conquest of a better man.
As my tongue assiduously laps and swirls, gathering evidence of the evening’s sex, I cannot dispute the point. I desperately want to please... just as has lover Edward.
Am I besting my rival? As Nicole squeezes off the first of what I hope will be many orgasms, I convince myself that is the case. It cannot be that I am kept around just as a prospective nanny for baby Edward!
Of late, I have been consoling myself with the simplicity of my new life. Forced to quit my job, I have no income stream. But neither have I any financial responsibilities. Master Edward pays the bills. My role for now is to cook... when Nickie has not a date... clean house, do laundry, yard work and take classes on infant care.
To assure I attend the latter, Nickie drives me to the course... my car sold and my driver’s license surrendered months ago. Rather needless supervision, for with no money, no credit cards, it’s not like I can sneak away from class and take in a ball game over a brew.
No, I attend, telling myself that it is Nickie’s child... and in adoring Nickie I will learn to care for and adore baby Edward.
There come gasps, a second orgasm. Pleasing her brings stronger attempts for my penis to stand. It hurts... ironic that there come groans of suffering to join her breaths of delight.
In being experienced with the cream pie clean up, I am reasonably assured that all has been ingested. I thus slightly shift my efforts, the divine clitoris, swollen and inviting, becoming a target for my nimble tongue.
When there comes another gasp, I glow with pride. But then baby Edward brings need.
“Oh Mike, I need to... and I no longer drink any wine. It’s... you know... so annoying...” Nickie more than hinting at the next use of my oral prowess. She smiles coyly as I again shift to find her urethral opening... pursing my lips, prepared to open my gullet. There will be no need for her to slow her flow, for with all the oral training the gag reflex and thus the impulse to swallow has been suppressed. Her excretions will go neatly unimpeded. I become a sewer... her toilet. She at times challenges my proficiency by pressing to gush. I triumphantly consume all she offers.
“I’d like to have Edward... your Master Edward... see how attentive you’ve become, Mike. You know in paying all the bills, he needs to know you have purpose.”
The notion disturbs. I suppose it is anomalous that I have not yet met the man... despite his considerable support. Nickie has strongly hinted that such will happen before baby Edward arrives. But I have deliberately avoided the encounter... as best I can. For Nickie has described the protocol for the meeting... I must presume adhering to Dr. Michelle’s theory that the subordinate male best be kept on the edge. For Nickie insists with the introduction that I will kneel in my nakedness, open his zipper and with joy lick the penis of my Master while thanking him for the opportunity to care for his son.
There will be no joy. Instead her flippant words bring a froth of homophobia.
“How is your training going... with Nurse Reinholdt?”
Again, more thoughts to keep me on the edge, the query coming as her bladder drains. Such stifles the moment of pride in so neatly taking all she offers.
“Ah... ok,” my few words coming as I prepare to assure neatness, tongue now working to purge any droplets.
Nickie immediately picks up on the succinctness of my response, raising her ankles from the brackets, lying further back and resting her feet and calves on my back, thighs pressing on my shoulders. There comes into view, beneath a portal licked to spotlessness, not a droplet to evidence the evening’s steamy sex, the rosebud of her sphincter.
“Purpose, Mike. You need to have purpose. And after I give birth I’m told I’ll elsewhere be too sore for the fine efforts of your tongue... for a few days.”
Will she miss the physical pleasure of my tongue and lips there... or the psychic joy in mentally and emotionally dominating the beta male?
“So... more of your talent...”
Analingus. It disgusts. It revolts. But I am being trained... being conditioned. And I tell myself... there was also a time when I found orally servicing my wife after one of her trysts to be equally distressing. That has passed. I must accept that this reservation will pass as well.
“Do it, Mike... you have much to lose,” her voice firming. “Master Edward can just as easily hire a real nanny. Then where will you be?”
I try, a brief lick. I find I cannot bring myself to penetrate with my tongue. I’d so much like to again hear the sound of Nickie’s sighs. Yet the evanescent lick is all I can muster.
“It’s nice, Mike, but I’ll be wanting more than that. I will have to inform Nurse Reinholdt of your continuing reluctance. More enthusiasm... it will come... I’ve been assured.”