Short Story XIII

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Short Story XII

“The head maid suggests there is just enough water for my morning bath. I want more.”

The Princess stands watching as the beast continues the sluggish rotation. Step, step, step... the nipple bells tinkling... the slow pace further slowed by the added poundage of the neck collar, arm and thigh bands. The connecting chains alone have notable weight.

“It’s the weight, your Highness. I have added some forty pounds with your gracious contribution of iron.”

“Well, he’ll need to pump longer. A couple hours after the dinner hour should do. Use the quirt. I like to see a man labor under a woman’s hand, buttocks striped by a woman’s whip.”

The beast listens, inwardly shuddering in contemplating the added hours of labor. But then he gazes at the Princess’s castrate, naked and frolicking about like a child, the cruel snips to his scrotum immersing him forever in a strange state of innocence, a hermaphroditic glee. If he labors not, he will be snipped as well.

The authoritative voice of the Princess, ordering that he be worked harder and whipped, the thoughts spurred by her neutered oral servant, again bring stirring in his loins. The beast’s penis slowly hardens and with each laggard lap his frontside returns to view with what feels like a firmer and firmer erection.

The Princess takes note and the reaction brings a smile.

“Go ahead and show off. I have let it remain functioning only to amuse me.”

The Princess steps forward, riding crop in hand. She begins to stride along, a slow pace to match the ungainly, lumbering steps of her beast.

“You should know that your trollop chamber maid, the one you so much enjoyed fucking, has met an equally ignominious fate. She professed to be a nyphomaniac, addicted to sex. Doggie style, she proclaimed as an executioner clamped her nipples to loosen her tongue. Well I have arranged to assuage her addiction. I had her cunt infibulated... sutured closed... she’s zipped. And she now serves in the Palace kennels, completely naked as you can expect. My hounds very much enjoy doing it ‘doggie style’, of course. And I graciously had her little rectum stretched so she can take the biggest of my breeding males. You will have to stop in and observe. I now enjoy the labors of two beasts... watching you sweat and listening to your bells.... watching the once young and pretty maid take the knot of my hounds. Without clitoral or vaginal contact, she will at some point come to enjoy anal penetration. But in the meantime, her plaintive cries can be quite entertaining as she finds herself forced to yield and open her rectum to dogs.”

As the Princess speaks, her crop hand lowers, the smooth butt end of the handle strokes the underside of the upturned penis, further encouraging its stand. The beast feels as though it will burst, the cruel description of the maid’s fate bringing further arousal.

“Labor hard my beast. For when the water no longer flows you will join the ranks of the castrated.”

The crop hand rises. Remaining in pace with the slow rotation, the Princess presses the butt end of the short whip to the beast’s lips. She pushes and the defenseless mouth accepts the smooth cylinder, the handle pressing inward some three to four inches. This brings a snicker, as the Princess manipulates her hand to emulate the motion of copulation.

“It’s not only a woman’s quim that your new dental work can accommodate. Your neutering will not end your punishment and you will continue to orally serve.”

The snicker turns to a boisterous evil laugh as the Princess senses a shudder of abject fear. She then steps away and snaps her fingers. The naked castrate immediately reacts, prancing to her side, kneeling and extending his tongue as she lifts the hem of her long flowing garment of white silk.

“Add some weights, Kendra... to the nipples. I want to see him in pain and well worked while I am licked.”

Short Story XI

With each step bringing pleasant chiming to that which otherwise pains, the beast tries to let his mind wander into oblivion. But Kendra works at her anvil and the heavy clanks bring great apprehension. He knows by now that each hammer blow forges something he will bear... forever.

What more can the beast possibly endure?

On occasion Kendra pauses and approaches, commanding an all too brief halt to the endless circling. She then measures and gauges. The beast cannot see below with precision where she chooses to assess. Kendra stoops and he can no longer look downward with ease, the neck collar incredibly restrictive. But of interest is the hobbling chain and the chain connecting the thigh bands. On occasion she palms his scrotum, the warm hand adding a thrill of delight for the otherwise forcibly chaste.

Towards day’s end comes the command ‘balls’. The beast stops and bends, meekly presenting his jewels for display and amusement. He is alarmed when the fingers do not brazenly play with his testicles. Instead there is applied lubricant to his anus. Having been denied all sexual contact for many, many weeks, the beast is embarrassed to find the touch is strangely welcomed.

“Consider this a gift, my beast. It is added burden, but I think you will enjoy.”

Kendra steps to his front and displays the object of many hours and hammer blows. In her hand she holds a simple narrow length of wrought iron of some three feet. At one end there is a clasp where the implement will apparently be attached to something. It is the opposing end where she has forged for an entire day. There is attached a smooth, rounded protuberance, angled and not quite the shape of a penis. Instead there are curious bumps and ridges. Just below a short leather strap connects. Kendra smiles as, having just lubricated his anus, she notes that the beast guesses as to the implements purpose.

“Yes, a nice anal insertion for you. You will pump and milk your prostate at the same time. The Princess has demanded you remain healthy, my pet. What better way to assure prostate health for the otherwise chaste male.”

Kendra moves to the beast’s rear and stoops. She first slips the iron rod through the larger link in the middle of the thigh chain.

“Bend and spread for me.”

There is no longer even a brief thought of disobedience. The beast complies and feels the smooth bumpy end abrade his anus.

“Pwease no, Miss Kendra.”

“You know you want to please the Princess. This will also help you stiffen for her... and me.”

Firm hands work as she explains the expected result. The metal slips inward. The angled shape proves to perfectly align the protuberance with the curious male gland. The beast feels the pressure on his unutilized prostate. He begins to stiffen as the penetrating rod moves about, Kendra clipping the bottom clasp to the hobbling chain between his ankles. Lastly, the strap is used to circle his scrotum and is tied off, added assurance that the insertion cannot be expelled.

“This will also offer me the comfort that you will not kneel in rest while laboring. You are to pump throughout the day, this assures obedience.”

The strap secured, Kendra steps to the front. The vertical rod is held between the legs, secured in place below at the hobbling chain, supported by the thigh chain, held in place above by the scrotum strap and the beast’s rectum. There comes a wicked laugh as she notes the massive erection spurred by her well designed anal insertion. Prostatic fluid oozes, the penis points skyward, a bulbous crimson tip beginning to turn purple.

“Excellent,” the voice filled with glee.

A powerful mocha hand rises to grasp the nostril tubing.

“There’s an hour or two of daylight remaining. I like the idea of walking a man on a leash... naked... well bound... erect. Come. Pump more for the Princess.”

The beast knows he cannot resist tugs on that which seems to invade his brain. Still,there is reluctance, his well stuffed anus suggests he cautiously stay immobile. Thus for a moment he resists Kendra’s controlling hand. She smiles knowing she ultimately governs, toying as a cat with a mouse, her hand slowly increasing the tension on the tubing.

“It will feel a little awkward. But it is good for you. And I want you erect. It reminds me of all those castrated prisoners. Their last stand was for me... saluting the woman who first crushed then snipped.”

The cruel smile frightens, Kendra referencing a man’s neutering as a pleasant walk on the beach.

“Come.”

The force of the pull becomes irresistible. The left foot shuffles forth, the beast knowing to lean and use his heavily burdened form, his bent arms pulling on the prong. He moans, the anal insertion manipulating the prostate. His erect penis waggles with the odd sensation. Kendra laughs noting the result of her guiding hand.

“Yes, you will pump water... you will pump your prostate.”

Kendra leads, her beast follows. He has no choice. Step after step he feels the insertion work inside him... kneading... manipulating. He imagines it to be the fingers of Kendra’s powerful hand. The thought pleases. And he is pleased as well that his erection entertains.

Short Story X

Another day brings the unbearable heat of the desert sun. Kendra releases the wrist chain, hooked to the hobbling chain each and every night, forcing the beast to sleep in the most awkward position. With a simple command he urinates for her. Then with another command, ‘stand’, he struggles to his feet, oddly grateful for the ability to move after hours of complete immobility. The gratitude will quickly wear.

“Balls.”

The beast knows to bend at the waist and spread to the maximum, humbly presenting his male jewels to the woman of supreme authority. Kendra very much enjoys the palpation of her testicles.

The beast looks upwards, his incredibly thick and heavy iron neck collar seeming to press his forehead into the soil. He watches as a knowing left hand palms the scrotum. The fingers of the right explore, isolating one gonad within the sac. He knows what comes next. Slowly mounting pressure, the Queen’s torturess has indeed castrated men with her bare hands... of that he has little doubt.

Within moments there comes a plaintive cry, almost childlike. Pitiful to most ears, the beast’s outburst musical to she who derives joy from debasing the male gender. The fingers then move to apply pressure to the opposing gonad bringing this time a whimper. Kendra laughs then begins to explore again, quickly finding the vas deferens, that which delivers the male seed of the unchaste. She pinches, bringing a sharper more direct pain than the throbbing ache of squeezing her balls.

“Right here, my pet. Pinch here long and tight and the vessel is permanently crushed to uselessness... the male rendered sterile. Ironically simple is it not? What the male so triumphantly spews with such false brawn can be so easily and quickly terminated... and by a woman’s fingers.”

Her message of authority and control delivered, Kendra releases, offering the buttocks a slap, more vicious than playful, and sending her pet into the long day’s cycle of exhaustion. The beast is no longer surprised when he feels a twinge in his loins.

Yes, he begins to harden for her. Is it the chastity? The sight of her supreme near nakedness? Her controlling hands, the fingers coming so close to ending once and for all his virility? The bondage seems to spur the reaction, there is not a limb which does not feel mightily encumbered.

“Gruel in an hour or two,” Kendra offers with a laugh, she also noting the slow rise of his manhood.

Knowing that Kendra is amused brings the beast to full engorgement. A right hand futilely tugs against its tight shackle, a spontaneous attempt to end the weeks of chastity. Given the opportunity, the beast would shamelessly stroke himself right before her.

Kendra notes the attempt and smiles. It is she who better understands the reaction, having toyed with so many tumescent males shortly before their castration. Could it be that the Princess’s consort subconsciously strayed with the palace maid in an odd plea for feminine attention? Yes, a quest to cede control... knowing that his lover’s recourse would be harsh... and permanent. Is that the underlying reason for his foolish dalliance?

The answer matters not. Kendra will merely torture for the rest of his life. That is the task assigned... and she so relishes fulfilling it.

As the beast rights himself at the waist, he knows to step. Despite the incredible weight, he must labor. Failure to work the capstan, however slowly, brings the quirt and possibly a return of the pole attached to his nostril tubing. And so he leans and pulls, his left ankle moving to quickly stress the hobbling chain, his stride very much limited. He is chagrined to find that the ponderous neck collar very much limits the motion of his head. The iron is not only thick but broad, encircling at the throat from his breast bone to just beneath his chin. Its shape is more akin a medical posture collar than a typical implement of bondage. Yes, as designed, its function is to torture and mentally frustrate more than restrain... and it is effective.

Short Story IX

Anybody reading?

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Gratefully the angle of late afternoon sun brings a degree of coolness. There also come light breezes. With the beast’s suderiferous nakedness, there is almost felt a chill despite the heat of well whipped buttocks.

The Princess appears to nap, but her oral servant remains unseen... at least not his face and head. He has sedulously licked, lapped, sucked and swirled with his enormous tongue for hours. Bronzed effeminate buttocks flash from under the many folds of silk.

As the Princess suggested, trained for no other purpose, his castration has brought unfettered devotion to the pleasure of she who snipped. The beast notes the remnants of maleness peeking back between parted thighs. Showing his castration while orally serving seems to be a cruel mandate, the knees parted in an ungainly manner.

Above the ringing of the nipple bells, the beast hears an occasional sigh of joy. This continues to spur tumescence despite the stinging pain of salty sweat aggravating the dozens of lash marks. The castrated servant forays where his penis once basked in the bliss of royal warm wetness.

When the Princess ceased observing, lying back to absorb the many waves of ecstasy brought forth by the physical caress of tongue and lips... and the joy of slaking vengeance on her one time lover, Kendra mercifully stopped the many snaps of her wrist. Thus the afternoon returns to the daily drudgery of pulling the prong, step after step, each footfall draining not only his limited energy but his life as well.

Kendra exits her shack with water. The beast knows to continue his pace. The capstan is not to slow as he gratefully imbibes. Thus Kendra steps in circle with him as the bottle drains.

The rotation returns the duo to where the Princess languors in continuous cunnilingus. She stirs, the late afternoon coolness beckoning a need to return to reality. She sits upright to note the beast’s unending labor.

“Should he have more weight, Kendra? The thighs and biceps seem to welcome some form of restraint. And I would think a formidable neck collar would be both functionally irritating and somewhat decorative... a nice thick circle of black iron. Make it broad to immobilize his head.”

The Princess arises, pushing away the naked cherub, his chin dripping with her essence. The folds of white silk close as she approaches. Incredibly, a semi stiff manhood renews its stand, stiffening in tribute. A regal hand gesture indicates a pause. Kendra grasps the nostril tubing to still the beast.

“Very skilled with the quirt, Kendra. You whip well.”

“Thank you, your Highness.”

“But what is happening to his penis? It’s leaking.”

“Prostatic fluid, your Highness. It’s the chastity.”

“Well, we can’t have that male gland suffering for too long. It may fail to amuse us if allowed to atrophy. You will need to assure it properly functions and he stiffens for me. Remember, I want a long agonizing existence. His health is important.”

“I believe I can accommodate... and amuse.”

The Princess smiles wryly.

“Good. I’ll have more iron sent. Remember... biceps... thighs... and the larger the neck collar the better. I want him to feel owned.”

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Should the beast feel grateful for the period of respite?

Kendra’s coking oven has been fired again. Her powerful arm has again brought the heavy clanks of hammer blows. Strips of hot iron are made to yield to her unequaled strength. At day’s end, the beast kneels, remaining attached to the prong as his right bicep is encircled and hot rivets are hammered into aligned apertures. When cooled such will provide permanence. There will be no key to offer temporary emancipation.

The left bicep is similarly fettered. When Kendra connects the two with a short chain, the beast huffs with the new sense of restraint. It forces awkward posture, his chest thrusts forth.

“Pwease no, Miss Kendra.”

“You’ll get used to it, my beast. The arm bindings will remind of your status and servitude... and not impede your labors.”

Another day brings thigh bands, the hammer seeming to clank in cadence with the beast’s nipple bells. A chain connects as well, measured well not to affect the beast’s shortened stride. It will have another function. The beast notes a large circular link in the middle of the length.

The snug bands and added chains double the burden which the beast must bear. And with such burden there will come new found obedience. Disciplinary weights added to hobbling chain and nipple badges will make his labors nearly impossible. Yes, he knows the quirt stands at the ready, thus comes an inner pledge of complete capitulation. He will circle without resistance, urinate upon demand... and of course orally service with zeal.

Finally, a third day brings the crafting of a neck collar. The Princess has bolstered her command with an offering of iron strips, the thickness of which surpasses that used for the wrist, ankle, bicep, and thigh shackles. The strips yield with difficulty, Kendra careful to assure for snugness without hampering breathing. But the chore becomes a labor of love, the beast’s neck to forever bear an instrument of her creation. He will feel the millstone of her controlling hand each and every moment of each and every day... for a lifetime.

Perhaps it will bring comfort, she reasons. There are those who relish the guidance of a firm woman. The beast’s penis suggests he is one.

With the setting of the sun, two incredibly thick strips of iron have been forged, semi circular segments in the middle will form a circle when joined. Heated rivets will forever hold the strips together, a human neck in between. Once cooled, the collar is not to be removed.

Kendra has taken the time to add rings. The collar can bear a leash. There may be a time when a guiding heavy neck chain will better communicate ownership and control. More symbolic than the effective but relatively dainty nostril tubing. After all, the Princess as suggested he is to be displayed.

Short Story VIII

Enjoy.

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The naked form leans and steps, his arms pulling at the lengthy wooden prong as his burdened feet challenge the harsh desert soil. The hobbling chain frustratingly limits, and well before a full stride is undertaken, he must step again. Though the capstan is substantial, the leverage of the prong and continuous exertion bring it to slow rotation. Step... step... step... the nipple bells peel and announce the slow continuous exertion. The circle in which the Princess’s consort now lives, his path never deviating, is some hundred feet in circumference. Possibly more, the prong is some twenty feet in length.

No longer required is the tension of Kendra’s hand on the pole and nostril tube. Gratefully, the sting of the quirt is reserved for ‘reminders’, when the bells become silent or fail to ring with enthusiasm. But more likely the nasty strand of leather is snapped for Kendra’s amusement. All will has been ceded to the stern woman of color, she applies pain at her whim.

Yes, the naked beast has become just that... a sluggish animal. There is acceptance. There is curious pride in serving such a masterful woman. There even come intervals of tumescence when she stands arms akimbo and displays her muscled femininity, smiling with the rhythmic chiming of the bells and the outpouring of sweat. The beast’s futile display of virility breaks the tedium and Kendra encourages the bizarre reaction... the penis spontaneously stiffening.

“Make it nice and hard for me, my beast. I like a man to be erect while serving. It is tribute.”

The days become countless. The imagination at first pictures the Princess’s fine nakedness bathing in the liquid labored by his sweat and toil. But with the many days, the hundreds of laps, cerebral activity diminishes. It is only when Kendra comes into view that the mind exits an odd world of nothingness. Thus, despite the threat of the quirt, her presence is welcomed. And with the snap of her quirt, the nasty sting brings awareness, cognizance returning with the resulting shudder of pain causing the nipple bells to ring with vigor.

It is only when he is whipped that he knows he remains alive.

Most weights have been removed. A well disciplined beast knows to earnestly pump water without. But Kendra has placed such in ready access and the threat of return looms. The slightest recalcitrance earns the slow torment of weighty nipple adornments. Pounds of iron can be clipped to the hobbling chain in mere moments.

With the sun high above, at the far off crest comes into view a silhouette, a woman on horseback. Soon the deep thunder of hoofs can be heard above the high pitch of the nipple bells. The neck cranes, straining to lift the head. Eyes struggle to focus, blinking away the streams of sweat. The rotation of the capstan frustratingly takes the visitor out of view. But as the lap is completed, the form notes the arrival of a white stallion. Upon it is the woman who once offered love, luxury and leisure. It is the Princess.

As promised, she visits.

Regally attired, the desert sun and heat require the irony of both covering and coolness. Thus she is in white, diaphanous flowing silk covering all. Only a ravishing face is exposed to the sun’s rays. The sight is juxtaposed by a cherubic saddlemate without a stitch of covering. Sitting astride the saddle facing her is an effeminate bronzed companion, diminutive in stature. The Princess reaches to playfully tweak the exposed nipples. As the young companion giggles in response, her hands shift to lift under the arms to aid her companion’s dismount. The beast notes the cherub is not only naked but hairless.

Kendra joins the duo.

“Welcome your, highness,” she steps forth to curtsy.

“A picnic lunch, Kendra. I have decided to amuse myself in reviewing my livestock.”

The Princess points to saddlebags. Kendra immediately understands she has been requisitioned to assist.

“My little friend has been trained solely for cunnilingus. Not as a house servant,” comes a succinct explanation.

With the rotation of the capstan, the scene continues to unfold to the beast’s rear. But the cerebral input has awakened a dulled mind. He listens. He thinks.

His lover! One time lover. So imposingly beautiful! So omnipotent! And with a naked servant.

Kendra removes the bags and opens. A blanket. Fruit. A bottle of wine. Sandwiches.

“I can pitch some covering, your Highness. It will be modest but offer shade from the sun.”

The Princess nods and Kendra scrambles to her simple abode. Meanwhile the motion of the capstan returns the visitors to view. The beast blinks away more sweat and visually inspects the naked saddlemate.

Yes, completely without hair... cranium and pubes. Though not overly fattened, the uncovered frame is draped with layers of curvy effeminate softness. Puffy nipples adorn slightly plumped breasts. Such have been pierced and bear glimmering jewelry. Then the eyes move lower. The gender is divulged by a tiny penis, also pierced and glimmering with baubles. Below there is revealed the derivation of the curious appearance... nothing to be seen other than a floppy tuft of skin.

Neutered! And at such a young age!

The Princess snaps her fingers and points downward. The servant instantly places his hands behind his head and falls to his knees. A sculpted gam exits the many folds of silk to present a booted foot. The servant bends and kisses.
The Princess turns her head to note that her beast is watching.

“I’ve very much been enjoying my morning baths,” she most pleasantly offers. “I trust it has not been too arduous for you.”

Her boot is being laved, the beast notes the long broad tongue extended well behind the lips. It is the oral appendage of a barnyard animal!

Meanwhile the Princess turns up her head and laughs skyward with her sardonic wit.

“Enough,” she commands as the rotation again takes the beast to the far perimeter of his limited
world.

Kendra returns from her shack bearing tools. Massive arms work to pound into the desert soil two posts. A section of canvas is strung between to form a lean-to and offer shade. The blanket is arranged. The Princess will lunch in relative coolness. Some twenty feet away, her beast will continuously labor in the scorching sun.

“Much weight, Kendra. Your bindings are wonderfully gothic,” the Princess compliments as she gracefully moves to sit.

“Thank you, your Highness.”

“Can you whip him for me? His deceitfulness is most deserving. I can’t bear the thought of him having a moment of comfort in my presence.”

“Of course, your Highness.”

As Kendra steps away to retrieve her quirt, the beast notes that the Princess parts the many folds of her attire and wriggles her finger. The naked servant smiles and springs from his kneeling position.

“Snipped at just the right age. Trained for nothing other than oral servitude. I am sure you’ve noted the reason for his unsurpassed loyalty.”

The Princess addresses her beast, speaking as she reaches to palm and caress the empty scrotal sac.

“Castrates seem to develop a bond with their castrator, my beast. There comes a curious adoration and they can become quite focused. It seems that the testosterone levels of the intact male causes diversion... amorous diversion... bringing disloyalty which ostensibly leads to pleasure. But in the end... much aggravation and frustration comes instead. Wouldn’t you agree?”

The Princess unfurls the tight empty sac... the vestiges of maleness. She assures that the beast notes her display of the altered organs then wickedly smiles, releasing her tender grasp. The naked servant eagerly dives to the blanket, lies prostrate and works his head between her knees and welcoming thighs... his goal more than evident.
“Yes, a fascinating level of devotion. My pleasure has vicariously become his.”

For some reason, the scene brings arousal. The beast slowly begins to stiffen, thoughts of that broad tongue exploring where he once had sole invitation.

Kendra returns, quirt in hand.

“He appears bored, Kendra. But he’s also becoming erect.”

“Yes, your Highness. It’s the chastity. And governing women seem to excite.”

“Well then there is no point is denying him much excitement. Slow and steady. I have wine... I have food... I have an energetic and well trained tongue to amuse me.”

Kendra applies a moderate beginning lash to the right buttock. The beast spasms in his bonds to alter the rhythmic chiming of his nipple bells. He hears laughter. He knows too well of the oral treat presented beneath the covering of white silk.

Though the quirt pains, he feels his penis throb with continuing engorgement.

Yes, the Princess will be well entertained.

Short Story VII

“Down.”

The beast needs not a second command. The gloaming of the western sky suggests the first day of toil has ended. Knees buckle, the leg muscles finally surrendering to exhaustion.

“Lean back.”

Kneeling, the naked form obeys. Kendra clips the short wrist chain to the hobbling chain.

“This is how you will rest.”

The prong remains wedged between the form’s spine and bent arms. The process of pulling it about in circles has been grueling. Now it seems he will lie upon it.

“But I cannot sweep like this,” the lisp induced by Kendra’s cruel dental modification.

“You will learn to sleep,” comes the flippant reply as Kendra offers a water bottle.

The beast gazes upwards at the imposing feminine form. The leather halter remains covering massive glands. But otherwise the woman of authority, the Queen’s executioner and torturess, is naked. The sight brings odd comfort, the woman who owns and controls offering such a lustful view. Thus as the beast sucks from the straw of a bottle, it looks up in adoration. Once again he firms.

A free hand reaches down and removes the remaining nipple weights. Adequate effort earned a partial reprieve, Kendra lightening the burden there some time at mid day. Likewise one of the three hobbling weights was removed, bringing a bizarre reaction of glee and many humble ‘thank you’s’.

Between gulps, Kendra receives more humble thanks as the sensitive pink flesh is finally relieved of added weight. The nipple badges remain in place, never to be removed, always ready to again accept her heavy trinkets.

Water finished, Kendra retrieves a receptacle.

“You may urinate for me,” her words more than a suggestion.

The form senses the delightful feel of governing fingers as the partially engorged manhood is aligned with a jar. Kendra waits in patience. Finally shyness erodes and the bladder empties.

“Good. You’ll not want your little area soiled with waste. Remember, this small circle will be forever where you live and serve.”

Next, it is time for tongue exercises. A well tamed beast thrusts forth upon command and Kendra’s firm fingers grip and manipulate.

“You will offer more than thanks my pet,” Kendra smiling slyly.

Up... down... right... left... a clockwise twist... counterclockwise... her hand maneuvers and tugs. With the simple incision of the searing hot knife, new found nimbleness can be felt. Kendra’s well bound toy imagines the appendage growing... standing in tribute to the commanding woman just as his penis rejoices.

“Now, lean further back. Head to the soil.”

Awkward, the beast is to lay back with his legs folded beneath as well as his shackled wrists. Still, a powerful hand assists, pressing against the forehead until the commanded position is achieved.

“And now you will offer more than words.”

Kendra chortles as her massive right leg lifts, her foot moving across the well bound nakedness to stand astride the supplicating form. The beast looks up into her quim, the dark folds of feminine flesh barely discernable in the fading light.

“You make a very amusing chair to sit upon.”

Eyes widen as Kendra bends at the knees and slowly lowers herself, assuring that mouth and mons meet. The musty scent of undouched femininity floods the olfactory nerves. Kendra grasps the nostril tubing to both clear the way to the toothless mouth and offer painful controlling tugs. As labia greets lips, the beast knows to extend his altered tongue. Kendra smiles, the physical pleasure augmented by her sense of thorough governance. The day of grueling labor will not end for her servant beast. It is now time to exhaust the tongue.

Kendra shifts her feet, extending her legs to comfortably sit and offer her full weight to the face and head of the folded form below. There comes a final gasp for breath as the entire head is engulfed between her thighs, her outer labia covering the mouth, her meaty clitoral hood pressed to the nose.

“Lick well and I well offer air.”