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.”
1 comment:
Well I'm reading and enjoyng!
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