'Prominence - Part Two', Segment I

Undecided whether to post more segments,

Anyone reading?

CB 

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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.”