'Prominence - Part Three'

Not to preempt the story line, this will be the only segment from Part III.

Completed manuscript to be published by early January 2025

Merry Christmas

Part Three - Servitude at Benchmark Oil

Operant Conditioning

Body completely healed, Robert Probert is amazed looking at himself in the floor to ceiling mirrors of the prison bedroom of his Masters. Intended to further erode his male psyche... finely made up, hair coifed by the Queen’s castrated servant Bozuma... his feminized reflection serves well the intention. And he finds there is not a hint... not a trace... of the cruel whipping of Master Sodoma.

She is masterful, Robert reminds himself, her whip hand that of a surgeon... inflicting such intense pain... without damage. Yes, after the morning routine, seated upright in bondage, psychologist Satana schedules quiet time for thought, Robert to mull over the who and what of his being, marveling at the effectiveness of his governance.

He is a woman, his mind repeats. Yet there is such contrast, the priapism continuing, the swollen tip of his erection jutting forth beneath a smooth, hairless and well made up face... lipstick, plucked eyebrows, mascara, eyeliner. It is bizarre... yet the conditioning brings acceptance.

And there is more. His masters have found growing delight in watching him reward Bozuma, paying oral homage... fellatio, empty scrotum laved, analingus.   

Thus added to the morning regimen is more indoctrination, Robert to plunge further into his world of degradation.

“More operant conditioning, Mr. Probert... reward for desired behavior... punishment for undesired behavior,” Master Satana drawing from her learning, standing over the naked, bound and erect sceptre of the Queen.

Kneeling between his parted legs remains a smiling Bozuma. Beside Master Satana stands Master Sodoma.  He is horrified to see in her hand the simple yet daunting strip of metal, slipped from the wall collection of torture devices.

“The behavior,” Master Satana lectures. “As you’re aware watching you service Bozuma greatly amuses. I am going to condition you to offer more. As a reward, for every minute your lips and tongue suck her penis, lick her scrotum, tongue her sphincter, you will be rewarded... five minutes lying down, thumb cords slackened. Refusal, undesired behavior, and it’s the heretics fork,” Master Sodoma holding up the medieval replica.

Robert’s heart leaps. His homophobia finds the deed abhorrent. Yet, to lie down! Conversely  there is the threat... his mind jolted with the memory of the slowest most unrelenting torture endured.

“The fork... or do you wish to begin?”   

Bozuma rises, presenting his/her tiny penis.

“An additional twenty minutes if you make her hard for us,” Master Sodoma adds, giggling like a school girl in knowing of the challenge.

Bozuma shuffles forth. Has Robert a choice but to engulf? He justifies to himself... who is ever to know? He has decided on a life of servitude in the matriarchy of Zolanda. What person with meaningful influence in the outside world will ever know he has been induced to suck cock?

Operant conditioning begins, Robert hearing Bzouma squeal in delight as his tongue works the vestigial male organ. Master Satana steps forth. In further encouragement, she tenderly pats Robert’s long locks, master to dog, then makes a point of gesturing to one of several cameras high in the corners of the room.

The reminder stuns. Robert’s internal question... who will know... is answered. His video archive of subjugation grows.

He for sure will have no place in the world other than Zolanda.

Monotony

Not summoned by her Majesty, the days of the Queen’s sceptre become repetitive. Mornings a magnificently nude Master Satana rises from a long night of love making, pushing the low stool between Robert’s outstretched legs. She sits, teasingly presenting her mons, remaining moist and fragrant. Robert’s heart pounds, straining against his bonds, working in eagerness as the tip of his tongue begins to cleanse. After moments of tantalizing, his Master slowly slides forth, permitting Robert to fully savor. Finally it becomes time to be toileted, Robert’s tongue slipping inward to find the urethral opening, lips pursing. In silence Master Satana empties, hands grasping his ears. Her opening and Robert’s lips become one. There is neatness, no words exchanged, Robert knowing what is expected, opening his throat, her flow going directly to his gullet.

There comes another pat to his head. Master Satana rises, sliding in place a basin for Robert to in turn empty himself, the humiliation of so performing while stiff never to waver.

Spoon fed the tadafil laden mush, Robert cannot recall when last he was permitted to use his hands, the Royal directive that all mambo ne uume rely on feminine supervision for sustenance extending to her Caucasian meketa as well.

Typically the feared Master Sodoma rises, also displaying her charms in full. As Robert is fed she showers. In exiting from her shower nudity flashes, smiling in noting Robert flinches whenever she glances his way, the cruel whipping never to leave his subconscious.

Exercise is next, Robert’s state of constant priapism requiring the stamina, circulation, and blood oxygen level of an Olympic athlete. Treadmill work is extensive, Master Sodoma supervising, her nearby presence bringing quite the incentive, short length of rattan in hand.

Thereafter, Bozuma arrives. Massage, sponge bath, and makeup follow, Robert learning that he is always to appear effeminate whether summoned for exhibition or simply wiling away the hours in bondage.

The morning activity ends with operant conditioning... the required oral adoration... fellatio, scrotal sac, anus, Master Satana tracking the time. Heretic’s fork withheld, for good behavior reward comes in mid afternoon, a gleeful Robert Probert permitted to lie down for the requisite minutes. Such munificence... the stress relieved!    

He tries to bring Bozuma to full erection... earning Master Sodoma’s bonus of twenty minutes. His fervent efforts bring his Masters much amusement... yet most times he fails.

Within weeks of his whipping, Robert learns that oil has been struck, Master Satana reporting the strike at some twenty one hundred feet. Such excites, bringing gratification, his engineering prognostication accurate. Is he to once again visit the drilling site? What is the flow rate? Is the crude sweet or sour? Gas flowing as well? Natural gas liquids?

There is much upon which to advise.

“Tomorrow the Queen commands your presence,” Master Sodoma informs as she guides to the treadmill, “fully dressed... for the drilling site,” Robert knowing he will bear the high neck collar and restrictive anal hook enhancing the exhibition of his erection.

The words bring apprehension, to be once again exposed to his colleagues... former colleagues. Robert mollifies his concern, reminding himself that his former world is no more. There will be a lifetime of servitude to the Queen.... photos of his prettified and erect nakedness meaningless.

Leashed by his testicles as always, Master Sodoma begins the grueling morning workout, slowly working the dial to bring the rotating canvas to a challenging pace. Hands to his head, Robert’s circulation jumps, his breathing steady but heavy. And then it happens!     

'Prominence - Part Two', Segment II

Meeting Satana - Master Satana

“When not summoned for servitude by her majesty, you will be under our supervision. We have prepared a place for you in our room.”

Audience with the Queen over, Robert’s leash has been handed back to body guard Satana. He is once again walked by a governing woman, knowing to place his hands to the back of his head, sensing fear and concern, any motion of his leash to bring pain, dictating rapt attention to her words. 

“I am to be called Master Satana. You’ve met Master Sodoma.”

Logical... ‘Miss’ or ‘Mistress’ too effeminate for the women of size and obvious brute strength. As with the diction of the Queen, Robert notes that Master Satana’s spoken English is superb. There is no accent, no indication that English is her second language.  

“As stated you will be obedient to us and remain naked and erect. We have the recipe from the Clinic and will feed you the necessary nutrition and additive required to maintain your condition. We will exercise you, exhaustively. Bathing and grooming will be performed by Bozuma. He makes himself look pretty for the Queen... and will make you look pretty as well.”

Into a hallway, Robert is relieved the walk is short, the testicle rings messaging feminine control. Satana leads through a doorway.

“Our bedroom. Master Sodoma and I share a bed. You will use the floor.”

To a corner of the spacious yet drab living space, Robert is positioned sitting, back to where the walls meet. There comes an internal sigh of relief as the leash is removed.

“Legs straight out and parted. Display your balls at all times. Arms out to the sides, shoulder height, present your thumbs.”

Robert complies, noting a collection of bamboo, various lengths and thicknesses, hanging on a nearby wall. On another wall there is a assemblage of phalluses, oddly shaped, many sizes and colors, prominently displayed, a prized collection.

“In time you’ll feel the sting of everyone of them,” Satana nodding to the bamboo. “As her Majesty explained, we have disdain for the male... and affinity for rattan. And perhaps you’ll come to enjoy the feeling of having a woman inside you,” obviously referencing the dildos.

Master Satana works as she talks. Right thumb and left are tethered, looped with silk rope. Such lead to strong elastic cords emanating from wall hooks. She tightens... and tightens... Robert’s arms pulled well out to the sides. With great effort he finds he can move... very slightly.

The big toes are next, silk rope, elastic, secured to hooks at the base of the walls right and left. And as expected, tightened to the maximum. Limited restraints to cover his nakedness... no cuffs, ankles or wrists. And to tease the mind, Robert notes the ropes securing his thumbs and toes are tied off with simple bow knots. Anyone... but him... can free him with the slightest tugs on the loose ends.   

Master Satana steps between the widely parted legs. The toe of her boot presses to the mass of pink flesh resting on the hard wooden floor. She jiggles the elongated sac, both threatening and playing.    

“You’ll rest and sleep sitting up. Stressful... as we want it to be... but in time you’ll acclimate. You’ll find it merciful to be permitted to lie down... a treat to be earned... and you will thank us. Such will keep you eager to be with the Queen and placed on exhibition. Otherwise it’s the stress position. 

“The rule of silence prevails here in our bedroom. There is no need for us to hear from you unless we want you to say something. You will urinate under very strict supervision and at our command. There will be a collection vessel. You will hit it with your flow. Sloppiness will not be tolerated,” hands going to the ears, inspecting the recent piercings. “You will perform your bowel movements for us every morning when guided to the bathroom, emptying upon our command. Bozuma will have jewelry for you in a day or two. You’re to be belled, as her Majesty stated. When not moving we do not want to hear you ringing. You will sit motionless until given permission to move. And as stated you will not speak unless spoken to.”

Robert is relieved when Master Satana tousles his hair and steps back. Ironically, he very much misses the supervision of Miss Rwanda... sightless, deafened but her hands kind. Even the frightening Miss Rehema and her sjambok are now a welcomed vision.

“Be forewarned, Master Sodoma and I are given to dispense with covering when off duty and alone. As I said we sleep together... and make love. You can watch and listen... probably abet that hard on her Majesty has procured. In time, if you’re a good boy, you may be permitted to prime us... and later bring neatness. But that is something to be earned.”    

Prettified

Robert is left alone to his thoughts, Master Satana departing presumably to resume duties guarding her Majesty.

He of course tests his new bonds. In appreciating the aural and visual input... no earplugs, no headset... he asks himself... does it matter when there is nothing to hear and only the drab decor of the dormitory-like room upon which to gaze?    

Arms tug, feet pull to the sides. The elastic is fiendish. In offering slight motion and challenging the muscling, Robert realizes the unique form of bondage permits a form of modest exercise... and obviates cramping. Thus the intervals of strict bondage can be endless.

He diverts his thoughts of forthcoming slow torment by returning to Master Satana’s final warning. He is to be exposed to female nudity! Curious that with all the oral servitude of recent weeks, his only glimpse of feminine charms has been by way of the  graphic videos, clinically detailing the anatomical complexity of the female genitalia. 

In a way the prospect excites. In another way he perceives the forthcoming frustration... becoming a well bound and naked voyeur.

The room door opens. Entering is the Queen’s naked oral servant Bozuma, tray in hand. He smiles, moving forth on tiptoes, kneeling between Robert’s well parted legs, in silence putting the tray aside. He leans forth, stirring Robert’s homophobia as he in feels the warmth of his naked body nearly touching his. There are no words as manicured hands reach to the nipples, toying with the temporary bars holding open Robert’s piercings. Bozuma giggles in hearing a grimace as fingers twist, assuring the openings heal without the skin adhering.

No words, as the hands rise and twist the ear studs, Robert concludes the same rule of silence applies to all in servitude to the Queen.

Next Bozuma reaches to the tray. Cream is applied to his face. It begins to burn, an all too familiar sensation. There come panicking thoughts. Robert realizes that in being prettified for her Majesty he will endure more hair removal. Then the panic subsides and turns to dejection.

How will he ever again appear as a man... a normal man?

Cream left in place, the softening of his looks, as her Majesty suggested, begins. Bozuma works about the eyes, plucking and shaping the eye brows. Robert futilely tugs at his arm bindings, the pain of the defoliant and the realization that his appearance is being transformed... to be less than masculine... brings distress.

Bozuma smiles and meticulously works, well aware of Robert’s helplessness. Robert looks into the youthful face, finding him to be cute, then shaking his head in shame and disgust.

It’s a guy! Or is it?

Still Bozuma notes Robert’s brief admiring look and playfully taps his nose then girlishly giggles. There comes mascara then lip gloss. Bozuma rises and steps back, surveying his work then reaching for a moist towel. Gratefully the harsh defoliant is tenderly wiped away... too tenderly for Robert’s comfort. Then comes a mirror, Robert to survey his appearance as well.    

He is appalled. As Master Satana informed, the Queen’s oral servant will be in charge of grooming... and the results embarrass... not overly effeminate but far from masculine. Thankfully the lip gloss is not excessively gaudy. Yet the fact that his body and appearance can be altered at another’s caprice disturbs. Then he comforts himself... no one will see him... no one of significance to his manly pride. He’s no longer in the oil business, doing manly work, trekking through desolate jungles and deserts with burly roustabouts. Why should he be concerned?   

He glances down to see that he not only remains erect, as both mentally and physically instilled, but his penis throbs.

Why?

The mirror is put aside. Bozuma opens a bottle of mineral oil. Slathering his hands, more embarrassment comes as he anoints, coating Robert’s nakedness, hands working the tiring muscles.

It feels good. Robert does not want it to feel good. Arms, shoulders, back, Bozuma is gifted, possibly professionally trained. He resumes kneeling between the spread legs, hands going to the feet, calves, thighs. Lastly comes the male package, Robert closing his eyes as his hairless scrotum is oiled and palpated. Bozuma is attentive, the fingers dancing, careful not to tension the testicle rings as he playfully pulls the thin, loose flesh, smiling in noting the extreme length. The boy... whatever... seems to handle with envy, his plums long ago snipped and sacrificed to the whims of Royalty.

The hands withdraw. There comes more dread as Bozuma leans forward. He kisses, Robert helpless to resist. Then Bozuma giggles and lowers his head.

“No!” Robert breaking the rule of silence as Bozuma engulfs the mushroom tip of his erection, tongue swirling about. 

As the unwanted ecstasy overwhelms, the room door opens. It is Master Sodoma.  

“He knows you can’t come in his mouth. And his envious attention comes from you having about the only free and fully standing penis in Zolanda,” Master Sodoma smug in her explanation. “Put your homophobia aside, Mr. Probert. I have a higher testosterone level than he does. Enjoy his attention. But did I hear you speak?”

“I’m sorry, Master Sodoma.”

“Enough, Bozuma. Mr. Probert needs to be caned. If you want to stay and watch, stand by the  door. Otherwise tend to her Majesty.”

'Prominence - Part Two', Segment I

Undecided whether to post more segments,

Anyone reading?

CB 

******

Part Two - Servitude to the Queen

Meeting the Queen

“Welcome to my palace, Mr. Probert. Quite the effort in preparing you, but I believe you will find it worthwhile, based on Dr. Humbert’s assessment of your innate needs.”

Maketa Robert Probert stands before her Majesty, Queen Yumna, naked, erect, hands behind his head. He quakes, in awe that his long sought audience has come about, though the circumstances are different than originally planned.

“You may speak. This is not the Clinic. But you will be respectful... at all times.”

“Thank you, your Majesty. I am honored.”

“Yes you are.”

Robert Probert is intrigued. The august woman is tall, broad shouldered as he learned from the videos of his headset, with handsome, even features, more becoming in person. Her colorful sarong attractively contrasts her dark complexion. What is not expected is her diction. The few words she has spoken is of the King’s English, no patois. He’s listening to Royalty, yes, but the accent that of Buckingham Palace... not the palace of an African matriarchy.

“You’ve met Sodoma, obviously.... leading you here on a leash,” gesturing to the African woman standing at his left, length of leather remaining in hand. “My other body guard in Satana,” the Queen nodding to a woman standing rigidly at attention in the corner of the huge, opulent entrance hall. “They will be tending to you. They will govern. You will be obedient to them... as with all women in Zolanda... but especially subservient to Sodoma and Satana. Their preferred instrument of correction is the cane. You don’t want that.”

Robert cannot take issue with that. Both women are some six feet in height and muscular. Young but well past adolescence their dour facial expressions suggest seriousness of purpose and determination.

Yes, they would cane him... there is no doubt. Robert envisions a pair of sinister smiles in so doing. In being walked from the Clinic, leashed by his scrotum, there was no consideration given for the agony to be brought by the barbed testicle rings. The tugs were frequent and painful.

“Come, let’s talk. We need to discuss the paradigm of your servitude,” Sodoma knowing to hand over the leash.

The Queen leads, Robert follows, noting that her Majesty is circumspect with her guiding hand. Does she know, Robert questions, of the possible intense suffering a simple snap could bring?

She must. It is by her edict that his male bits have been rearranged. Yet she seems so thoughtful.

“Nipples sore? The piercings were a bit of an afterthought. Make you look pretty for me. Dr. Humbert said it required not much of an effort.”

Yes, scheduled for an afternoon departure, finally deemed fully trained and broken, this morning Robert’s nipples and ears were callously jabbed, temporary bars inserted while the openings heal. There was pain, but nothing compared to what Robert has endured during his many weeks in four point restraint.        

“Yes, your Majesty. But it is for you,” Robert knowing to be humble in his words.

“A truthful and very tactful response,” Queen Yumna muses. 

Entering a smaller room, lavishly decorated, her Majesty sits in a large comfortable chair, pointing to the floor before her. Robert knows to kneel at her feet, the leash going slack.

“When we’re alone you may speak freely... and respectfully. When you are with me in the company of my subjects you will be silent. You’re a symbol, Mr. Probert, of Royal authority. That an African monarch keeps a  Caucasian male naked, erect and at the end of a leash lends prestige. As my mother, during her reign, taught me, such is imperative. Think of this as a sceptre,” Robert shocked as the Queen leans forth and taps the rock hard swollen tip of his penis. “Traditionally such is described as a decorative stick carried by a monarch as a symbol of authority. This sceptre you’ll be transporting on my behalf. And of course you are never ever to touch it. Essentially this in now mine, Royal property.”

The Queen sits back, pausing, her edicts setting in.

“Prominence, Mr. Probert. Your phallus... now my phallus... gives rise to prominence... emanating to me.”

Robert’s awe is renewed. The videos of native Zolandan men, naked, penises caged, comes to mind, kneeling, kissing and licking Royal feet. He leans forth in respectful expectation, elongated and indefatigable tongue eager to serve. In lowering his head the Queen laughs, pushing at his forehead. 

“That is not part of your role in serving me. If you’re curious about the Clinic’s extensive oral efforts, I had you trained for Satana and Sodoma. They enjoy male subjugation and as an accommodation for their loyal service they shall have you... use you... when not on display.”

Why is there such a sense of disappointment? 

“Yes, Mr. Probert, I am more esoteric in pursuing my pleasure. I’ve found that the tongue of the emasculated male can be quite sensuous. My preference is not a secret, but not widely disseminated either.”

The Queen gestures. Robert turns his head, unaware that Sodoma... perhaps Satana... the manly rugged guards appearing as twins... quietly followed the duo into the room. A meaty hand pushes open a well disguised door in the ornate paneling. Into the room prances a native being, appearing androgynous but for a tiny penis flopping about. Yes, emasculated, Robert notes... and hairless, head included. Being glabrous, age is indeterminate. The gender is further obfuscated by makeup, shaped eyebrows, eyeliner.... not appearing outright effeminate, but far from masculine. His/her presentation teases the eye... as no doubt intended. 

The Queen draws up the hem of her long sarong. As in the videos, the naked form steps to the side of Robert, falls to his knees with noted grace, lowers at the waist and begins licking... first the Royal footwear then rising to the Royal ankles.

There is no shiny penis cage, Robert notes as the knees are widely parted, seemingly as a mandate. But there are no male plums either and such is well exhibited, the required pose proclaiming his alteration.    

“Snipped at the right age, they never seem to grow old,” the Queen edifies. “He was born Bozumi... altered to become Bozuma, ha, ha, ha,” hands going to affectionately cradle and smooth over the bald head. “So meek, so docile, Bozuma tends to my carnal needs. I sleep with his head between my thighs... if not behind me.”

Weeks of oral training and servitude, having tasted what Robert assumes has been every nurse working at the clinic, he is saddened. With his warped transformed desires he was strangely hoping to bring pleasure to Royalty.

“More things to keep in mind. When in my presence your hands will be kept free, for now. Restraints bring covering. I want you completely naked at all times. So you will be fed and bathed, as you were in training. But a nasty length of rattan awaits any self touching or abuse. My body guards will also supervise your exercise. Yes, that will continue. You are to remain erect for me and that requires exemplary circulation, strong heart rate, expanded lung capacity, high blood oxygen levels... as I am sure Dr. Humbert explained. 

“I want your look softened. The only masculinity to be exhibited will be your erect penis. Otherwise I want you appearing gender neutral. And you’re to be belled, The sound comforts... like having a palace feline. And over time the Royal sceptre will be bejeweled... the Royal symbol of authority should be decorative... don’t you think?”

Bejeweled?

“In terms of prostatic discharge, I instructed Dr. Humbert to forgo the urethral reroute. If you become sloppy with prostatic fluid, I’ll have it done. So keep things tidy and have Satana and Sodoma tend to it. I’ve seen the videos of you relieving yourself under strict feminine supervision. Such amuses. It will continue. So as long as you perform for me you’ll remain urinating like a man... under feminine direction. A fair exchange?”

Robert finds he must nod in agreement, the prospects of such an urethral alteration daunting.

“You’ll be taken to the Clinic for prostate milking, I can be gracious in that respect. Once a month. Or perhaps you’d prefer a good brisk caning. I am told that relieves the jitters as well. In the male, such offers a cathartic release similar to the resetting of hormone levels by way of expunging semen. But that would result in marks, Sodoma and Satana too much enjoy male suffering. And Royal property is best exhibited unblemished. But do keep that in mind.”

Robert is shocked to silence.

“No response? Well, I’ll let Sodoma and Satana decide... Clinic or caning.”