Short Story XX

“You have all kept the Royal blacksmith quite busy. I hope you appreciate his efforts.”

The Queen visits her dungeon. Upon hearing her voice, the collective clatter of dozens of chains almost drown out her words.

Every prisoner bears wrist shackles connected behind his back. Ankle shackles are borne as well, connected by a hobbling chain. Haste has mandated that the many dozens of iron implements be simpler and lighter than that adorning the beast’s form. Still, access to the male appendage is denied, as demanded. Plus, the ankles are shackled together outside the perimeter of the cell making most movement impossible. As a result, the prisoners have found there are two feasible positions... lying supine... or sitting upright. In either, the hands remain behind the back... the feet extend outside the cell... the bars forcing a wide separation at the knees.

In a weekly protocol... or more aptly at her whim... the Queen leads an inspection procession. Neatly attired, riding crop in hand, she steps into the center area of the dungeon. Behind is her naked cherubic castrate. He/she/it leads her beast, leash at the neck collar, prostate stimulator gratefully left behind. Guards also enter... women of size, strength and disdain for the male. Such quietly step to the corners, ready to serve at the snap of the Queen’s fingers.

The coterie of misery... naked...bound... chaste... brings a wry smile. Particularly as all sit up and squirm, shuffling forth on their haunches, knowing to press their pubic regions through the bars in a required exhibition of their organs. Dozens of legs, feet and hobbling chains extend into the center area.

The inspection is of the male organ. The Queen expects tribute.

“Some of you are not firming fast enough,” the Queen proclaims.

The prisoners know what is expected of them... yet, can everyone adequately perform? The chastity assists. For some, being completely naked and bound before a regal woman of great beauty brings curious arousal. Yes, Royal pulchritude... the Queen is radiant, divine in her autocracy. Thus the younger, more virile slowly tumefy. Those of age wriggle about to frottage their penis against the smooth metal bars, daring not to offend with flaccidity.

Yet all endeavor to amuse, for the flaccid receive special attention.

“Every one nice and hard for me. My machine beckons.”

In the center where days before the beast was chained high by his neck collar, there has been placed an odd bench. Upon it, a male prisoner can be strapped in a kneeling position... chest resting on a padded cross piece, knees and calves comfortably secured to vertical planks. The device holds the prisoner well off the floor, the better to view, the Princess announced in first explaining its function.

Behind, there is mounted on a pedestal a clever piece of machinery... a fucking machine. Yes, a piston, mercifully covered with a cylinder of smooth but firm rubber, is driven by an electric motor. When activated, the piston emulates the action of copulation... except it does not tire... and it drives home deeply... again... and again... and again.

“So who’s going to mate with my machine today. Hmm? Let’s see who can best get it up for me. I like erect men... particularly when naked and well bound.”

The Queen laughs most wickedly as she steps from cell to cell. Yes, the prisoners know to offer tumescence, hoping for selection, for in being held in strict chastity, the machine will offer relative relief. Sodomized, the prostate gland will welcome the intense ignominy of anal penetration. Some are grateful to feel the tease of her riding crop... an occasional tender caress with the floppy tip most welcomed.

“And today... someone will get trimmed. There’s too many of you. I will offer the clemency of castration to the one who does not firm for me.”

No one doubts her word. Thus there is collective concentration, arousing fantasies conjured, smooth bars frottaged... all not only wishing to ride the machine... but to save the balls... for another day.

And so the Queen amuses herself. Dozens of hapless males... all paying the tribute of erection... all to eventually suffer the fate of her loving oral servant. Under her rule, no one has left the dungeon intact.

Short Story XIX

Over the crest ambles the handsome canine, King. The beast blinks in dread, the huge hound’s far off silhouette bringing trepidation. Upon the quickest and easiest of commands from the Princess, the beast was forced to take the knot. Yes, the animal mounted him, slowly penetrated then sodomized with abandon, the display proving to be most entertaining... and most degrading.

The capstan rotates away as the hound nears. Gratefully it moves to the shack where Kendra presumably naps after a long morning of strict tendance and multiple orgasms. With a single bark... not threatening... not playful... he announces his presence. Kendra stirs and exits into the late morning sun.

King has brought a message. She reads.

“The Queen is dead. You are being summoned by the newly reining Queen, the former Princess.”

The beast’s heart leaps. Summoned!

Guiding hands direct. For the first time since his clumsy escape months before, the prong slides away, the beast stepping sideways as the length of wood moves from under the right elbow then the left. Remaining otherwise well bound, the relative freedom feels divine.

“Kneel.”

Without a moment of hesitation, the beast falls to the soil. Kendra approaches and a mammoth stretched tongue extends to greedily gather nominal droplets of sweat from her thighs and lower belly. She smiles with the abject humility. Then her right hand lowers to splay then lift, offering the entrance to her love nest. The beast cranes his head as best he can. He knows exactly where to align his lips. He craves fluid. Though morning, he has labored for hours.

“Yes, drink. It will be a long journey in chains.”

Kendra opens herself, amused that no matter the torrent, the beast captures and instantly imbibes all the flow she can produce... and he does so with such tender appreciation.

Finally, her bladder empties and the tongue works to assure her neatness... and gather every drop.

“Stand. The Princess wants you impaled. You’ll not kneel in rest during your journey. And it is best that you be fully erect when you reach the Palace.”

The prostate manipulator is retrieved. Slipped into the large link of the thigh chain, the protuberance now enters the rectum with ease. Kendra clips the free end to the hobbling chain below. Lastly, as the penetration and Kendra’s fingers bring sensuous delight and stiffness, the thin leather strap is tied about the scrotum to assure the rod cannot be expelled.

“Remember, be careful not to fall. You’ll not be able to right yourself. Stay erect for the Princess. And be grateful that you’re penetrated. King won’t have his way while you when you’re anally stuffed.”

Kendra laughs, picturing the canine coping a quick fuck as the duo crosses the desert to the Palace, the well restrained beast meekly yielding, forehead to the desert soil, fearing for his gonads as the Princess’s prized hound mounts and copulates... doggie style of course.

The leash chain returns. Just as the Princess’s castrate had done months before, she connects the beast’s neck collar to the spiked leather collar of King.

“Just keep your nipple bells ringing. Same as when you pump. King knows the way. Be obedient.”

“Will I see you again, Miss Kendra?”

“Yes. There will be festivities in the Palace dungeons. My skills are required.”

King knows to turn toward the kennels. The leash chain tightens and Kendra swats the buttocks to begin the arduous journey.

“Go. You are to be put on display.”

**************************************************************************************

The Queen rules!

“The official coronation ceremonies are over. Sorry you couldn’t attend.”

The Queen laughs most sardonically, viewing the many male forms encapsulated behind bars. She stands in the Palace dungeon for male prisoners, reviewing the sorry lot of miscreants. Surrounding a spacious center area are dozens of small cells, positioned as an audience would face a circular stage. The newly anointed Queen is most sanguine amongst the Kingdom’s ruffians. As a young girl she stood in almost the exact spot and witnessed the weekly punishments and tortures demanded by her grandfather, the King.

“My mother, the former Queen, was rather lenient concerning crime and punishment. Under my rule there will be no leniency... no mercy. The slightest infraction will be dealt with swiftly... the punishment meted to be long... slow... painful... and memorable... for those who are able to withstand.”

She laughs again. As Queen, she has become judge and jailer for all the low lifes of the Kingdom. She recalls her grandfather’s intolerance, observing as a young girl the many tortures, executions... and castrations. Her recently deceased mother proved to be more tolerant... perhaps more aloof... simply tossing the unruly behind bars to rot, her time not to be otherwise burdened with the seedy element amongst her subjects. As a result the dungeon is stuffed.

In the center, standing on a pedestal, bringing silent awe to those who would otherwise be begging for clemency, is the beast. His heavy neck collar is chained above. The prostate stimulator remains in place. He is dutifully erect, his penis standing in tribute to the new Queen... the many months of chastity... the wicked impalement... fostering the desired reaction.

The bizarre display, a sculpture... chained and weighted to near immobility... symbolizes the new regime... one of feminine power... of male capitulation.

“This beast once shared my bed. He was disloyal... he was deceitful. I have had him permanently shackled and chained and have had him laboring for countless months. As you can see, he has learned proper deportment. I like to see him stiff. It is appropriate tribute.”

There come murmurs as the Queen lifts her hand. She holds a riding crop and wedges the tip under the beast’s scrotum. He stirs as his balls are better presented, bringing forth a clatter from his many chains and the chiming of his nipple bells.

“Yes, he very much enjoys showing off for me,” the Queen laughing as the beast’s penis obediently waggles in response to her touch.

“So, there is to be a new protocol. Remove all clothing. Every one of you. Now! Toss all garments through the bars. Such will be collected and destroyed. It’s hot down here. You do not need covering... and shall no longer have it. And I can only imagine the level of lice infestation...”

There follows much wordless shuffling as the many dozen disrobe. Grimy, tattered, the resulting pile of cloth smells. But the Queen smiles most wickedly. As she surveys in the dankness, there comes into view the many forms of naked male subservience.

Yes, she rules!

“I suspect my blacksmiths are going to be quite busy assuring there is no more masturbation amongst this riotous bunch. Meanwhile, use your hands for one last time. Come and stand at the bars. I want those penises well displayed... right through the bars. Show off for me... like my well chained beast...”

Gawking at the Queen’s shackled beast, understanding the naked form, testicles jouncing about as her riding crop toys, exemplifies the toll for disobedience, the disrobed males approach the numerous cell bars. Hands collectively lower, the Queen smiles most wickedly as her captives begin to stroke.

“Consider this a gesture of royal grace... in celebration of my coronation. Hereafter, I will demand chastity.”

Short Story XVIII

The beast hears the shuffling of human activity. He stirs, wriggling his head within the tight iron neck collar, his arms testing both wrist shackles and connected arm bands. The reality of thorough bondage returns after an evening of dreams.

For some reason, in his nightly slumber, however difficult to attain in kneeling bent back over the capstan prong, he consistently fantasizes about having the ability to move unencumbered... somewhat. Yes, the Princess has forgiven, and the near hundred pounds of iron have been removed. Instead he is lightly tethered to a pony cart. And he runs... freely... full steps.... his feet prancing with glee. His burden is nominal, his gait evidencing mirth. For it is the Princess who holds the reins and bears the crop. He conveys her with pride, accepting the lash of her crop, instantly responding to controlling tugs. He is of course naked. His penis erect. To his scrotum there has been tied a leather tether. When his Princess tugs there, his penis waggles in celebration. He enjoys the feel of her governing hand.

With the abundant sweat, the sound of the crop brings noteworthy ‘splats’ as the Princess works his buttocks. In dreamland, her firm lashes feel good, bringing forth the comfort of being owned, well trained livestock to be fed, watered, bathed, massaged and pampered. So he can best perform for her. To be displayed.

But alas, as full cognizance dawns and his bound neck and arms return him to reality, he feels the nearness of his tormentress. Her fingers work about the neck collar to release a thick leather hood, born each and every night as a result of his futile attempt to escape.

As the blinding garment is slipped away, the beast extends his tongue. Kendra wordlessly grasps the slippery wet length and begins the twice daily exercises. The beast was never before aware that, just as with every muscle, the tongue can be strengthened... and lengthened, particularly after Kendra’s quick snip of the frenulum. Thus she pulls with vigor, always applying enough tension to bring stifled moans of displeasure. Left, right, up down, twist... consistently pulling with passion.

Next Kendra straddles. Her gluteal cleft is to be licked, lapped with zeal by an awakened tongue. The otherwise perverse offering brings amazing thrills... physical pleasure... the satisfaction of the ultimate in feminine dominion... the male serving with such apparent humble delight.

Kendra would care to sit all day, but she has saved the emptying of her bladder for he who will receive life sustaining liquid in no other fashion. Thus her need brings an end to the divine analingus. She slips back and presents, the beast now knowing the way to her urethral opening. She smiles as his lips know to surround, and she opens herself knowing that not a drop is to be missed.

Again there comes a curious sense of satisfaction. For Kendra, watering her charge in such an intimate manner is thought to be akin to nursing an infant... her bodily juices coveted. And indeed the lips seem to savor. For, though he will have a limited portion of gruel, he will receive no other fluids... save the feminine essence of her quim... and perhaps some of her sweat... should he beg enough.

Bladder empty, Kendra again shifts to offer more of her quim and there begins extended cunnilingus. By now, the tongue can slip well within her vagina. It can and does pressure the urethral sponge as she has trained. The toothless mouth will nibble her bud, the beast knows now exactly where it is to be located and to slowly increase the pressure there. Yes, the proper application of lips and tongue can bring forth amazing orgasms... and a torrent of feminine essence as Kendra ejaculates freely. The beast will consume with fervor. There is constant thirst to be quenched. And for Kendra there will come again thoughts of nursing as all liquids are hungrily consumed. The beast knows he relies on her for all.

“Your penis stands, my pet. You truly enjoy serving me. There is adoration for a woman of authority.”

A teasing right hand reaches back. It offers a tantalizing stroke, firm... knowing... controlling. Then it playfully bends to demonstrate the incredible stiffness offered by the virile yet permanently chastened male. Kendra knows so well the frustration her simple surgery has imbued. The hot shard first excruciatingly burned, then the thin pink flesh of the urethra healed, effectively cauterizing and forever closing the opening... no bladder relief... no ejaculatory relief. The beast now squats to pee. And when the prostate stimulator impales, the resulting fluid merely streams through her new opening to slowly drench the inner thighs.

On occasion, a controlling finger will gather and offer the ooze to quench a constant thirst.

One, orgasm... two... three... Kendra counts no more. She finally dismounts and unclips the wrist chain.

“Up.”

The beast obeys, righting himself at the waist, knowing to part his knees. It is time to urinate for Miss Kendra... and empty his bowels into an offered receptacle.

Thereafter, a long, long day begins. The numbed mind signals the body to lean and step... beginning a serenade of his nipple bells. Gruel will be consumed, spoonfuls offered at Kendra’s leisure as the capstan slowly turns and water is pumped. Water he will never taste or consume... unless first passing through Kendra’s divine form.

“How do you feel today, my pet?”

“Owned.”

“You are.”

“I am. Will I die here, Miss Kendra?”

“Probably. And you’ll be buried in irons. Death will not bring release. There will be no reason to expend the time and energy to unburden your body.”

The beast steps as he talks, the hobbling chain clattering, the nipples bells ringing. He becomes forlorn in contemplating his ultimate fate. Kendra smiles.

“But you still have your balls.”

Short Story XVII

“Please, Miss Kendra I am ill.”

“You need to relieve your bladder, my pet. But your penis no longer can drain it. Neither will you ever again ejaculate.”

Kendra has fired her coking oven. The beast remains in the pillory, his ankles secured, lying supine on the soil. Words are exchanged as she heats a surgically sharp knife. The beast has not urinated in more than a day. She understands his plight and it is only she that can offer relief.

“You’ll going to be a very obedient ox for me. Pump water, service my quim, lick my backside. Such a simple life. Yet you will also need to better understand the consequences for complicating it.”

The knife blade glows. Kendra inspects then approaches. The beast observes in shock. He recalls the quick but painful incising of his sublingual frenulum, that which has enabled masterful cunnilingus.

“Just relax. Miss Kendra will make it all better.”

The words are those comforting a frightened child. But a wicked laugh follows, that of a debaucherous executioner.

“Just a tiny nick.”

Kendra kneels. Her left hand palms and lifts the scrotal sac. She notes its plumpness, envisioning within a mass of unspent semen, the beast never again to spurt the seed of life. The thoughts of forced chastity bring an inner glow. But she puts aside the satisfying notions of the frustration and torment and aligns the hot blade with the perineum.

“Here we go. A quick incision... resulting in a urethral reroute. Henceforth you’ll be squatting to pee.”

A quick motion of Kendra’s hand, a ghastly bellow which empties the beast’s lungs, all muscles tighten in a futile effort to forestall the pain. But most meaningfully, the simple cut between the anus and the scrotum opens the urethra, forever blocked at the penis tip.

Kendra arises and steps away avoiding the torrent of the emptying bladder.

“I trust you will remember this kindness, my beast. I will introduce a catheter to assure you properly heal. Then you’ll need to be trained... to squat and pee on command. I’ll not want you sullying your circle of existence.”

“Thank you Miss Kendra. Thank you.”

“But also remember, I can light the stove and heat my knife any time. Just as it has offered relief to your bladder, the blade can also become the tool of a sculptress. Disobedience will earn you marks. I will treat your nakedness like a large lump of clay... to be molded... to be carved. And the Princess will find it most amusing... a human carving board. You’ll bear a message... that of power... control... of the Princess’s supreme governance. I’ll carve the letters slowly and keep the knife searing hot for you. Think of this when you next choose to walk off into the desert.”

Kendra laughs, noting the beast’s attentiveness. She then steps to her shack, the referenced catheter awaiting.

Her thoughts return to her assigned tasks... the unending torment of the Princess’s deceitful lover.

For his recent transgression, Kendra will demand analingus... every morning... every evening. The Princess has mandated that the fruit of the beast’s labors not be offered, water to be denied. Thus all life sustaining liquids, craved with the many hours of toiling in the desert sun, will come only from Kendra’s body. There will be times when the beast will beg to lick her sweat.

In addition, weights are to be added... to the hobbling chain... to the nipple badges. In time, such will be lightened, for he is not to be tortured to death. No, he is to be kept most alive and healthy... to labor... to offer liquid refreshment in which he will never partake... but most importantly to amuse and entertain... day after day after day.

Short Story XVI

“Go ahead, urinate for me.”

“But I cannot. It... it... it won’t come.”

Kendra smiles wickedly.

“Yes, my glowing hot shard has blocked your urethra. It’s burned and swollen. And I suspect in time, the flesh will heal together and permanently block your passage. A slow death, my pet. Uremic poisoning.”

Kendra smiles in observing the look of panic.

“Rather ironic after all the months of toil that you should die in such a slow and leisurely fashion... your own body poisoning itself. I rather thought your demise would come during forced labor... one last turn of the capstan to please the Princess... then a collapse.”

“But I need to pee!”

“Of course my beast. And I can help. But first you’ll need to show me some contrition. Then I’ll show you henceforth how you are to be watered. Then I will fix your plumbing.”

The beast remains with ankles pilloried sitting atop the small stool.

“Now just lay back and relax... and take care of Kendra. Then Kendra will take care of you. Just a little incision is all you need. But you must earn my attention.”

As Kendra speaks her hands reach under the encumbered arms from behind. Then in a display of amazing puissance, she lifts the weighted form and kicks the stool from beneath, lowering her beast to the soil.

“I know how much you savor my mons... licking and sucking. Well you will now have a new crevice to savor. A woman can also use some anal attention. And I know exactly who will offer.”

Straddling the beast’s head, Kendra lowers herself. The odious aperture greets the waiting lips. The beast knows to extend his tongue in greeting.

“Yes, such a good pet. And when you’re finished I have some life sustaining fluid for you. You’ll never have well water again. The Princess has so mandated. But you shall have what would otherwise be disposed.”

Kendra sighs with the pleasure of the lengthened and well trained tongue meekly exploring her rectum. She turns and notes the wounded penis. Despite the trauma, it begins to firm. Yes, the Princess would never deny herself the joy of watching it harden... but she has commanded that the beast be denied the joy of ever again sensing the normal male ecstasy of ejaculation.

“Lick and suck. You have my cunny brimming with the juices you’ll need for sustenance. And my bladder will offer more... much more.”

Short Story XV

The beast finds himself returned to the pillory, only his ankles encumbered. He sits on a low stool, arms and wrists restrained behind him. His penis is clamped. Though only permitted to urinate under Kendra’s supervision, she has added a precaution against disobedience. And with the clamping, for some reason Kendra waters him... and waters... and waters.

“Enjoy. The Princess has commanded that you hence be refused. Your rash action denied her water, thus she will now deny you.”

Meanwhile the coking oven remains heated, Kendra on occasion squeezing the bellows to assure searing hotness. The beast is most apprehensive. Nothing to his benefit has ever resulted from Kendra’s labors at the stove. And she has promised him intense pain.

“Yes, the Princess has commanded that all sustaining liquids are to come from me. Those lips will be eagerly sucking more than the essence of my love nest. After many hours in the sun you’ll find yourself begging for what I normally squat and discard in the sand.”

Kendra returns. The beast is surprised to see unguent. She greases her left hand.

“Whenever I castrate I offer a man his last stand... a partial handjob, bringing him to full erection before I snip. Wonderfully cathartic. They never forget.”

The beast closes his eyes and cringes in fear as the left hand lowers to remove the clamp then grasps his penis. Kendra snickers in noting its condition.

“You quiver in fear but you’re already partially stiff. I have castrated so many of the likes of you.”

“Pwease no, Miss Kendra.”

“Oh, I’m not going to snip you. The Princess wants you strong... to pump... and to suffer.”

The hand works. The beast is chagrined to find Kendra to be an accomplished masturbatrix, a surprising combination of firmness yet with soft pressure applied to the most sensuous regions of his manhood. Yes, his penis jumps to full stiffness, seeming to defy him. For once he would prefer to be flaccid.

Achieving her goal Kendra releases and steps back.

“A little treat for the condemned.”

For the first time, she removes her halter to stand perfectly nude before her well restrained charge. As suspected the breasts are large, the well developed pectoral muscles seeming to thrust forth her glands in invitation. Nipples lure the lips of the randy male. The perfect curvature beckons exploring fingers. The beast feels his penis waggle in response. Kendra notes the reaction and laughs, the fingers of her right hand rising to toy with her right nipple and add to the tantalizing scene.

“I think you’re ready.”

Kendra returns to the coking oven, careful to avoid sparks. Large blacksmith’s pliers are used to retrieve a small shard of iron from the coals. She lifts and inspects. The beast manages to divert his eyes from the supreme nakedness. The pliers grip nothing more than a glowing red hot nail.

“You’ve ejaculated for the last time, my beast... whenever that was... presumably with that Palace chambermaid.”

Kendra approaches, pliers in her right hand, the shard prominently displayed. Her left hand lowers to resume stroking. For some reason the beast feels his penis harden even more. The commanding nakedness?.. the fear?.. a strange sense of adoration for she who tortures, castrates and executes? Was his attempted escape a cry for the perverse attention of this amazing governess?

“Bladder full? Your penis seems to be piss proud. I am familiar with that effect.”

The beast sheepishly nods. There has been an abundance of water offered... and no relief.

“Well, it’s going stay full for a while longer.”

With that, Kendra ceases her teasing strokes. The right hand lowers with the pliers and glowing shard. The thumb and index finger of the left work the penis tip to widen the urethral opening. A horrified beast watches, his restraints inhibiting all resistance as the pliers press the hot shard into his pee hole. He screams. Kendra smiles... then begins to laugh as all air escapes from the beast’s lungs. Muscles go limp. He finds himself leaning back noting that Kendra's hands remain at their task. Blackness comes. The bright desert sun disappears.

When Kendra finally slips out the heated shard, having pressed it many inches into the urethra, she notes her pet has fainted... the excruciating pain not acceptable to the fully conscious.

“You’ll not flee again. Flight is something you will remember and avoid.”

Short Story XIV

“Very amusing, my beast. Every man should get a good fucking from time to time. And judging by the stiffness of your penis you seem to agree with my assessment. King was quite gracious with you.”

The Princess remains in saddle observing from well above. While King mounted there came occasional laughter. The beast’s grunts and plaintive cries seemed to amuse the most. And yes, the beast’s manhood reacted in a most humiliating fashion... penetration of the chaste male causing a reaction of stimulation.

“You’ll be taken back to Kendra for punishment. I’ve spent enough precious time assuring your recapture.”

The Princess retrieves an iron bar from the saddle and tosses it to her castrate.

“Kendra showed you how it works. Make sure it deeply penetrates and is well secured,” she commands her cherub.

Embarrassingly stiff indeed, the beast wolfs down the last morsel of offered food. Gratefully not the gruel of Kendra, instead it is real sustenance evidently brought from the Palace. Though the morning has been traumatic, handled by a neutered oral servant, sodomized by a canine, the beast’s craving for nutrition diverts. Some caloric intake is required if he is again to move.

As he remains kneeling he looks to the iron bar. It is the well crafted prostate stimulator, attached to thigh and hobbling chains then pressed into his rectum, the protuberance to knead and manipulate his prostate gland while circling the capstan.

A soft, effeminate hand grasps his nostril tubing. It pulls upwards. The beast must arise, the simplest of tugs bringing havoc to thousands of nerve endings within his skull. Though his legs are shaky, the food has quickly restored energy.

Without a word, the beast knows to spread his feet to the maximum. The iron bar is pushed through the large circular opening in the center of the thigh chain. On cue he leans at the waist and once again shudders as the fingers of the Princess’s sexless plaything align the specially crafted business end with his rectum. There comes slight pressure and, with the slippery remnants of King’s abundant spending, the beast is easily impaled. Lastly, the bottom end is connected to the center of the hobbling chain.

When the castrate moves to the beast’s front to tie off the leather straps, encircling his scrotum to assure the device cannot be expelled, the fingers linger there, seeming to adore those organs which were cruelly plucked from him years before. The beast’s penis uncontrollably stiffens more, bringing more laughter from the Princess.

“You enjoy the touch of a male. Very telling.”

Prostatic fluid begins to ooze as the thin strap is finally knotted and the hairless form steps away.

“King is well trained. Be a good boy and follow with utmost obedience and you’ll not be harmed. I have not the time to accompany you.”

As the princess speaks, a chain leash is hooked to the beast’s prodigious neck collar. The castrate then attaches the free end to a spiked leather collar encircling King’s neck.

“He’ll know to walk slowly. But do not resist. He’s trained to nip the genitals. And I want those for myself.”

***************************************************************************************************************


As King leads up the familiar crest, the leashed beast knows the water hole and capstan will soon come into view. The dog has been amazingly patient, ambling the near mile at a slow pace, the ringing nipple bells seeming to sooth the simple mind of an animal. Oddly, with the many weeks of tedious drudgery, the tintinnabulation soothes the beast’s mind as well.

The broad neck collar precludes visual inspection, but the beast knows his penis stands, the penetrating rod, his own footsteps bringing constant manipulation to the otherwise neglected and unused gland.

At the apex, the beast spies Kendra, her divine near nakedness working at the coking oven. There comes a shudder of fear. Nothing of benefit has ever resulted from the workings of hammer and anvil... only implements of restraint and slow torture.

Descending, Kendra looks up and smiles. A naked, well bound male led by a dog. And the erection obviously brings a smile.

“Wherever did you think you were going, my pet? Do you think anyone would assist your plight? Tinker with the Princess’s imprisoned, well shackled slave? It would require many hours and much special tooling to undo my bindings. And what would be gained by the subject who assists? They would find themselves similarly restrained.”

Nearing, Kendra steps from the oven and unhooks the chain leash.

“Go.”

King scampers off, knowing his way to the Palace.

“Ironic that a dog can be trained to such a level of obedience but the human male needs constant training and punishment,” Kendra casually notes.

A powerful hand grasps the nostril tubing.

“Come. You’re to be punished. You know how much I enjoy making a man suffer. It is so thoughtful of you to accommodate. I’ve been heating something which will bring the most excruciating pain. I’m curious to see if you will pass out.”