A Woman in Control - Married to my good organizer IV

Married to my good organizer IV

Sunday morning brunch. I release Jack. He remains naked and without his cock cage. A treat, except that I insist he help serve our guests brunch. There come more protests, more beseeching, and in the end he somberly saunters downstairs where the many wedding guests are milling about, having coffee, awaiting the renowned breakfast of the B & B.

Yes, he’s in his element, naked servitude, and he blushes divinely. The male guests choose to ignore Jack’s limited organs. But the women, brash and bold, take to examining closely. What should be arousing palpation of a penis long locked and neglected, becomes a source of intense humiliation, the girls talking openly about the lack of size and its dysfunction.

“It’s a clitoris,” notes one of my domineering lesbian classmates, bringing great laughter and a Jack quivering with embarrassment.

Another woman is fascinated by the emaciated ball sac. She cannot keep her fingers off it, rubbing and kneading briskly, finally announcing for all... “I found one... I think.”. Ah, the laughter.

Well all things come to an end. By 1:00 p.m. the crowd disperses, all heading back to the city. The gay preacher asks if Jack has been trained to suck cock... phrasing his inquiry much more tactfully of course. I note Jack’s reaction of muted concern and smile.

“Not yet,” knowing to always hold a sword over his head.

Randy offers a very affectionate good bye kiss, more than that of friendly acquaintance, then pats Jack on the head and departs. Nurse Benson takes Jack back to the room and inserts the Prince Wand and locks in place his cock cage... freedom ended. Meanwhile I pack then take Jack by the hand.

“I need to get dressed.”

“You have nothing to wear,” leading him out the door.

To the parking lot barefoot and naked, fortunately for Jack the grounds are secluded. From the trunk I retrieve one of our wedding presents... a modified child’s car seat, enlarged for a very substantial child... Jack... replete with Posey cuffs which will make him one with the seat.

I place it in the back seat and strap him in for the ride to Manhattan. Unseen in the front seat, a folded blanket I can toss over him should we encounter difficulty or need to stop for gas.

The same blanket will be used to get him from the apartment garage and up the elevator, if I deem it to be needed. I do not explain that. I let him broil in the worry of more public exposure.

In returning to his apartment, I have waiting bank forms for Mr. and Mrs. Desiree Dumond Montrove. A joint bank account is opened. I have him sign the papers, cloaking not only the account number but the name of the bank. Henceforth I will arrange for his paycheck, currently larger than mine, to be directly deposited to an account under my control. Though Jack has technical signature authority, he won’t even find the blank checks much less know which bank and what number.

Financial control. It does not feel as good as physical, emotional, psychological control, but it completes my mastery. 
  
He has not a dime to spend...

A Woman in Control - Married to my good organizer III

Married to my good organizer III

What can I say about a wedding ceremony where everyone is dressed to the nines... and the groom wears nothing? Delicious... so erotically stimulating. I was moist the whole time, not sure which aroused me more, watching my naked betrothed squirm at the makeshift alter, or gazing in lust at the notable bulge in the tuxedo slacks of best man Randy Evans.

Cameras clicked continuously, all my friends promising to email photos. The preacher was amused, but performed a straight and legitimate ceremony, the wording of the vows more than a little skewed toward mastery for me and abject servitude for Jack. 

Immediately after the short service, I had Nurse Benson take Jack to his room where a hood, Posey cuffs awaited, the nylon straps tucked under the mattress. Jack’s distracting presence, quite fun, was not to disturb a small but lavish reception where I sat with my bullstud Randy.

Heavy hors d’ oeuvres, Champagne, we feasted, Jack’s diminutive and well exposed male organs... once male organs... the central topic of conversation. Finally, no longer able to control my excitement, I kissed Randy’s brown cheek, whispered ‘it’s time’, rose and held his hand. Glassware chimed, cameras snapped, and I had Dr. Hemstadt, as a favor, move to the door of Randy’s bedroom. There she snapped a few of Randy carrying this smiling bride across the threshold on my wedding night... to be added to Jack’s bedroom ceiling slide show montage... the intention of both parties quite evident.  

Yes, Randy is quite the stud, knowing how I like it... on top... an ottoman donated by my friend and classmate... when with me he graciously condescends... appearing grateful that I do all the work.

If a girl can’t cuckold her husband on her wedding night, she just hasn’t established proper control. 

We fucked throughout the night, Randy exploding deeply three times. Some time for slumber... exhaustion finally beckoning a rest... I arose early, slipped on my wedding gown, no panties, and moved to Jack’s room were Nurse Benson had him secured most admirably... a determined woman when it comes to tending to the male.

There, I pushed up Jack’s hood, exposed his mouth and we silently consummated our permanent relationship... Jack made to consume... having no choice but to cleanse my love nest of a long night of copious spending.

With Randy’s fine length... and me controlling the timing... most of the slimy essence remained deep within. And I patiently straddled Jack’s face and let every droplet ooze to his lips.

There, I made him savor it... that which his chemically altered organs can no longer produce. After all, I had kept him hungry, and Randy’s semen made for a fine meal.

In finishing, I lowered my head and tenderly whispered... “there will be more, Jack. And many different flavors.”

A Woman in Control - Married to my good organizer II

Married to my good organizer II

It’s time. I don my gown. A naked and attentive Jack assists, coyly offering compliment after compliment, suggesting beauty.

He says I look great. I do.

Nurse Benson, invited to the ceremony and staying at the B & B knocks on the door.

“Come in.”

She enters, seen for the first time without her starched white uniform, a handsome woman.

“You look ravishing! And I see Jack is almost ready,” she quips.

I have had Jack manicured and pedicured, bright red finger and toenails. Mascara, some rouge. He does not object. As stated, his mind is muddled and seeks guidance.

Nurse Benson holds up the key to the cock cage. I reach out and turn off the control unit, otherwise he will be shocked when it is removed.

“You’ve going to make quite the impression, Jack,” wriggling her finger, beckoning him to approach.

She stoops, unplugs the wiring, unlocks the cock cage and very gingerly slips it away, the interior spikes most threatening and potentially painful. Next she slips out the Prince’s Wand, a metal tube inserted deeply into the urethra which abrades the prostate, a constant reminder of a woman’s control. Then the steel battery pack waist belt and transmitter is unlatched.

Jack smiles. Relative freedom is rare.

And I rarely see the appendage that I have had chemically decimated. It is incredible to think that it is smaller... but it is.

“Come here Jack,” I summon.

I sit at a makeup table and turn. Though the figure eight cock and ball rings remain in place, Jack wears nothing... no covering... not a shred. I palm his once male package and sense the thrill of feminine joy. Power! Jack also feels joy. Nothing and no one has touched him there in ages.

“I’ll get dressed now,” Jack suggests, “for the wedding.”

I smile politely. 

“You are dressed for the wedding, Jack.”

He steps back, aghast, the look of horror... priceless.

“No! There are other people!”

Acclimated to my presence and that of Nurse Benson and Dr. Helmstadt, Jack cannot emotionally handle the notion of public nudity. So amusing.

“Friends, Jack. I want to show you to them, show that I control you... that you are owned and that you obediently serve. You would not deny me that, would you?”

Friends plus the best man, I cannot help thinking. But it is not Jack’s ‘best man’, it’s really the best manhood. One of my favorite lovers... a bullstud as Dr. Helmstadt has suggested... will serve to consummate the ceremony. Six foot four, well muscled at what I assume to be some 260 pounds, I love Randy Evans’ deep mocha complexion. And a girl like me loves his ten inches even more. Black cock... a secret but common female yearning.

“I can’t do it,” Jack protests, his voice rising in pitch with the stress, evidence of the hormonal change. 

“You will do it. I can have the control unit returned. You’ll look awful silly be zinged while the preacher expects to hear your vows... one of which is that you will obey me.”

“But... I don’t want them to see... you know...”

“That you are now even tinier than ever. Jack, you are no longer a man. You are a servant, a pet. Does anyone ridicule the family dog for being neutered?”

Nurse Benson is amused. We both know Jack has no choice in the matter. Besides, I packed nothing for him and the clothes in which he arrived at the B & B have been destroyed. He will be naked for the ceremony... the only question is whether or not he will have to bear the relatively unsightly cock cage and the transmitting waist belt. Such distracts... and I want everyone to admire his form... now plumped... nipples puffy... that of an ingenue with the hormonal changes truncating the growth of all body hair. Yes there is a vestigial male organ, but its size sends a wondrous message. 

“I just want as much of you exposed for the wedding album as possible. I’d even have the base rings for your penis and balls removed if I could. Your exhibition will symbolize your loyalty and your servitude. You will repay me for all the care over the months by surrendering to me, capitulating for an appropriate wedding. I want you displayed... I want your subservience to be announced to my friends... and I shall have it!”

I did.

A Woman in Control - Married to my good organizer I

Married to my good organizer I

Within months of bringing Jack under my thumb, I begin to realize I have physical control, emotional control, psychological control... but not financial control. This is somewhat disconcerting. Jack makes a good salary. I am impecunious, a lowly administrative assistant... months before encountering my ‘good provider’.

So, since I am spending weekends at Jack’s apartment, supervising the many, many hours of bondage and sensory deprivation, a natural next step is to get married.

Why not? Such status won’t interfere with anything I do... I will remain sexually active... engage in multiple week night couplings... Jack will remain chaste. He’s neutered.

First, I inquire at Dr. Helstadt’s office. In observing the leashed dog boy, I have a good inkling of her clientele. I explain my wishes and she recommends a gay preacher in Greenwich Village known to cater to the souls of the New York D/s community. He certainly won’t be out of sorts when I describe my plans and request his services in a civil service of matrimony.

Next, I revive some classmate contacts from Vassar. Yes, there were other girls with penchants somewhat similar to mine... tastes and attitudes not completely in line. But we were accepting of alternative desires and lifestyles.

The first call is to a girl whose parents own a quaint bed and breakfast in a secluded Hudson Valley village. I arrange to rent the entire facility, my classmate for the most part running the operation while semi retired parents lounge in Florida.

Then come invitations, arranging my schedule, Jack’s and of course everything a girl needs for betrothal... flowing gown, flowers, caterers, etc. 

Weeks later, I inform Jack, the day before we must travel. Since he has no say in the matter, there was no point in prior discussion. Jack does what I tell him to do.

“Married? I can’t...”

I let him search for the words, his mind slowly becoming a bit addled with the hormonal imbalance.

“Can’t perform as a husband? I know that Jack. Remember who took you to see Dr. Helmstadt. Well that does not matter. You know I prefer good solid and deep penetration when I fuck. You could never satisfy me with or without a fully functioning penis. It’s best that you are emasculated.”

Constant reminders. Bold and blatant discussion of his condition. It is best. 

“We leave tomorrow. I packed for you. And Jack, for the service, I am going to have Nurse Benson remove your cock cage and control unit. Won’t that be nice?”

Other than short intervals at the clinic when Nurse Benson unlocks and removes the spiked cock cage and slips out the Prince’s Wand for cleansing, I have had Jack’s useless organ secured for months. It will never again become erect, but I don’t want him even touching it. It remains a potential source of pleasure even when forcefully made limp.  

Jack beams. No reminder charges... no naughty boy charges... no agonizing shocks for very bad behavior. A long weekend of reprieve from the imminent threat of electrical shock.

“Thank you Miss Desiree.”

“Yes, you’re going to become Mr. Desiree Montrove... and as my husband you can cook and clean and sew for me. And don’t worry about your dysfunctional little penis. It will not bother me a bit.”

He’s excited. Little does he realize that I am removing the cock cage and the battery pack steel waist belt so he can be as naked as possible for the ceremony. Dr. Helmstadt’s cock and scrotum rings will remain in place, such are permanent, but otherwise Jack will not be wearing a thing. He will be the blushing groom.

Such a wedding album I will have!

A Woman in Control - My good organizer X

My good organizer X

Jack’s chemical castration steadily advances. Cyproterone acetate injections on Fridays, a stout pill with coffee at my desk Monday through Thursday. Saturday and Sunday the pill offered as he lies in Posey cuffs.

Within two months of the deluge of cyproterone acetate, Dr. Helstadt calls to announce that the latest semen sample extracted by Nurse Benson’s electroejaculation is devoid of sperm and the testosterone level is non existent. She describes his penis size, caged except for cleaning time at the clinic, as that of an infant. I commend the good doctor on being prescient in modifying the manner in which his cock cage remains attached. With testicles shrunken to the size of peas, the scrotum appears to be an empty puff of flesh, otherwise not able to hold anything in place.

“Observe his behavior,” she advises. “It will take time for him to acclimate to the hormonal imbalance. Have fun placating his quests... soft clothing... fattening foods... pretty stuff. His emotional transformation will continue. You have a little girl,” the doctor somewhat guffawing. “Why not see what he looks like in makeup. I would be surprised if he resists...”

I guess I will.

Still, visits to Dr. Helstadt’s clinic continue. Yes, Nurse Benson continues with electroejaculation but there is no longer need to test the sample. Jack now spurts a very limited amount of clear gooey prostatic fluid. With each visit, Nurse Benson dispensing the mandatory three jolts, she shows a very distraught Jack the extracted specimen... smirking... mocking... driving home the castration... pounding into his psyche the finality of a woman’s forced transition.

It’s good for him.    

Meanwhile, I have been learning the canine control unit adapted for the male genitals... Jack’s shrinking male genitals. Dr. Helmstadt installed as described and I had one of my stud muffins, a well endowed electrician that I ride on Wednesdays, wire Jack’s apartment. Every room becomes a self contained chamber from which Jack cannot step without permission. Main door to the hallway and elevator, the doors to his old bedroom where I have moved much of my stuff, the kitchen, the bathroom and particularly the spare bedroom should he ever some how break free of the Posey cuffs and straps.

This means I can leave the apartment for errands and romantic rendevous knowing that Jack will stay where I put him. Mostly in the kitchen, where he labors for me naked before a hot stove. Try to exit... a debilitating shock to the penis and testicles, the Prince’s Wand delivering a jolt well into the viscera. 

So he must call me for bathroom visits... at which time I may graciously use my remote to momentarily turn off the charge while he moves to the desired room. Many times I delay his requested bathroom breaks... a girl has to have some fun after all.

As explained, I can also press a button and deliver a variety of charges from near or far... the remote working on the pager frequency network. There are reminder shocks, naughty boy shocks, agonizing shocks for very bad behavior.

I also enjoy delivering two quick reminder shocks every time I get laid... Jack knowing that while he labors in chastity, I am being satiated in a manner that he can never replicate. It wounds him, but it is best for his psyche. My pleasure... always first. His... only derived from pleasing me.

The difficult part of completing Jack’s electronic captivity was surreptitiously installing an antenna about the frame of his office door. For that I had to sneak my electrician friend into the office on a Sunday. But once done, the thin wire outlining the door frame is not noticed and Jack must stay in his office or call me for permission to leave. His bathroom breaks are no longer on the honor system.

As stated, I deliberately kept a small portion of the vast stash of Jack’s pornography. I scanned, selecting tasteful photos with very specific attributes. All are of fully clothed women being served in some manner by naked men. This needs to be ingrained, come of acceptance no matter the circumstances and the environment. So I develop a montage in my computer and turn it into a slide show, each picture flashing for some ten to fifteen seconds before the show continues to the next photo. Then I purchase a small inexpensive laptop and projector for the spare bedroom.

The result, directly over Jack’s face, flashing onto the ceiling of the dark barren bedroom come the photos, one after another... docile men... naked men... in servitude to charming women... fully clothed in ordinary attire, no bondage gear. It’s important that psychologically Jack’s naked subservience be mentally accepted as normal.

Brainwashing? Sure, why not? It is either staring at my relatively tasteful photos projected on the ceiling or endless darkness.    

I also surf the web and download to form a second montage, a little more specific, for later, should Jack come to resist or protest the paradigm of his new existence.  

A Woman in Control - My good organizer IX

My good organizer IX

The boy dog gave rise to thought. Virile, permitted to remain intact, the burden of relieving his loins resting with Nurse Benson... and an electrical device. I cannot help thinking of the long, broad prodigious tongue which lapped away at my shoes. It is apparent why the pup is locked up. His penis, no matter the size and prowess, is superfluous compared to the prowess that tongue can offer.

So Jack begins his treatment. A daily pill which I supervise. A weekly visit to Dr. Helmstadt’s clinic for electroejaculation and a massive injection of cyproterone acetate.

With each visit the offered semen sample is evaluated and I am pleased the sperm count is plunging... and the testosterone level.

His penis is measured and sure enough it shrinks... slowly... but quite steadily. Meanwhile I have concerns. The notion that Jack may still play... down there... disturbs. Though ineffective, such untoward conduct would distract... from thinking about me... and serving me. Dr Helmstadt referenced the phenomenon... ‘taking the hunt out of the dog’ she termed it. 

During a week three visit, I address.

“That dog, owned by the middle aged woman. He worn a chastity device,” I prompt.

“Really more than that. It’s electrified. You know there are now electrified dog collars, mandating the family pouch stay within a specified area? Well we’ve adapted it for the male... with some added features. You saw the waist band... that is the battery pack and receiving antenna.”

My curiosity is piqued.

“Should Jack have one?”

“Probably. You’ll be more comfortable when he’s not in your company. The system comes with a remote control box. He’ll stay within a confined area until you press a button and temporarily turn off the shock unit. And that can be done remotely. You can also punish at your whim, applying the voltage of your choice to penis and testicles, and do so from afar.”     

“Cost?”

“We can get it on the health insurance. We term it ‘behavior modification’.”

Clever stuff.

“With Jack’s small scrotum... and getting smaller... I recommend a slight modification from the standard unit. As you probably noted, the shock unit is anchored so to speak by a thickly gauged ring encircling the testicles.”

Dr. Helmstadt opens a cabinet, on display is an array of stainless steel gadgets. She extracts one and I note it is comprised of two parts, one with wires.

“These are the penis and scrotum rings,” she points to two rings attached to form a figure eight, a small ring atop a larger ring. ‘The small ring encircles the penis, the larger ring the scrotum. It must do so tightly, so the fit is precise. And you’d be amazed at the effort we expend in getting it in place... rather uncomfortable... but male comfort is not of much concern here.”

She next shows me a tube. 

“This is the so termed ‘cock cage’ which fits onto the control rings and locks in place, making the penis, particularly the sensitive underside of the tip, inaccessible. As you can see the interior diameter of the cock cage can be adorned with all types of nasty spikes... long and short... dull and sharp... depending on the degree of behavior to be modified. Any recalcitrance and Nurse Benson attaches within the cage the next level of spikes... to the point that the lightest degree of tumescence will bring instant agony. 

“Cruel but often necessary, I’m afraid. The male libido can be formidable. We must help the male overcome it.  

“And you see the wires, such connect to the waist belt. And it’s alarmed. Disconnect the wires and a signal is sent to the control box.”

As I stare in wonderment I believe my quim begins to moisten. Jack can work... labor in office or his kitchen... and I can be assured of where he is and that his rapidly depleting maleness is not a distraction. Plus with a press of a button I can zing him... a little reminder that he is under a woman’s control. It is best for him.

“What is the appropriate modification for Jack?”

“With his withering testicles, the control ring will fall off. So I recommend piercing him.”

Dr. Helmstadt holds up a three inch long slim shard of steel, demonstrating by pressing it to the larger testicle ring.

“We’ll merely solder this spike to the top and bottom of the testicle ring... of course I need to thrust through his ball sac first...”
 
Such insouciance... such callousness... spiking a boy’s balls.

“Will it hurt?”

“Of course. But it will also assist in transmitting the electrical shocks. Such will not be transcutaneous... instead jolting right into his precious little nuts,” the words humorously unprofessional.

“I also recommend a Prince’s Wand insertion. Again, better transmission of the current... and neater for long term bondage... which I believe you said Jack relishes. Effectively he will be partially catheterized. With draining tube attached you will have no more sloppy wet beds...”

I nod. I do plan long romantic evenings and prefer to know Jack is adequately restrained, not soiling anything while I enjoy the company of a lover... a virile lover.

“Do it,” come my final words.

A Woman in Control - My good organizer VIII

My good organizer VIII

Visiting the office/clinic of Dr. Rebecca Helmstadt, observing the skills of Nurse Benson, can be fulfilling for a woman of my penchants.

In the cab to Jack’s apartment, he wept. I consoled him.

“It’s for the best Jack. You’ll feel better. Those insatiable urges to view pornography will end. You’ll be more focused. You will enjoy serving me. You’re already calmer.”

He was indeed. The extraction of male seed offers no moments of pleasure at the clinic of
Dr. Rebecca Helmstadt. After finishing with her counsel Nurse Benson directed Jack to the ’sample room’. Expecting to be masturbated, both Jack and I were shocked.

There was a low steel table. At one end, hanging from the ceiling by chains was a device resembling medieval stocks. Nurse Benson patted the table top, indicating that Jack mount and kneel.

“Neck and wrists,” Nurse Benson instructed, tapping the semi circular openings in the stocks. 

He complied. She lowered the top and flipped a latch to secure head and hands.

“I’m going to guess a number two. Has he been used anally?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

“Then I am sure he’s tight.”

Nurse Benson then proceeds to work with mechanical directness. Whatever the procedure, it is evident that she has performed it countless times. The anus is lubricated. An egg shaped object is retrieved from a hanging hook. I count five others of various sizes. All have wires dangling beneath. The egg is summarily pressed into Jack’s rectum. His entreaties are of course ignored. Then the nurse enshrouds Jack’s penis tip with what I can only describe as a Texas catheter, the tube leading to a small plastic collection bag resting on the table beneath his belly. Then the wires are unraveled and plugged into a box on the nearby wall.

“Electroejaculation, quick, thorough and without a scintilla of pleasure.”

With that she presses a button. Jack spastically lurches and shouts most gutturally.

“And now a moment of rest. We used to manually extract samples, but no matter the skill of the masturbatrix, the seminal vessels are never completely emptied. Plus, many of the governing women complained about the level of pleasure offered... and probably rightfully so.”

As she speaks, I gaze at the clear collection bag. A modicum of spunk has been given up. In no way comparable to that spurted by well hung studs during my recent dates... but then again for those encounters with the male, I select based on size and virility.

Nurse Benson presses the button again. A second spastic lurch, a second guttural cry... less strident. I note there is a slight increase in effluent.

“Forty volts. Quite cathartic for them... and physically draining of course. They leave here feeling as if they’ve had a very long workout. Yes, they come in like lions and leave like lambs. And there are good psychological effects as well.”

Now the nurse enters my realm of knowledge and I must agree. Expunged of essence in this manner, the male succumbs to the notion that his seed is something to be harvested... at the whim of a woman... and painfully... not something to be spouted in ecstasy. 

The button is pressed again and I understand the function of the yoke. If not held upright, on knees and bent at the waist, a spent Jack would collapse onto the table top, impeding the flow of effluent and crushing the collection bag.

Nurse Benson seals the bag, removes the number two egg and slips away the catheter.

“He’ll need a moment to rest. I’ll let you talk things over. You may wish to consider a chastity device. Despite the cyproterone acetate, they do tend to touch themselves...”

Nurse Benson releases the latch and lifts the yoke. Jack slumps to the table top, semi conscious.

“Best time to inject him. I’ll be right back,” stepping away with the sample bag.

“Please don’t do this, Miss Montrove,” Jack whines in his stupor.

“Jack, I saw the sample. I imagine a mouse would be more fecund. Your ejaculate amounts to nothing!”  

He moans. Tears form. I need to console him.

“The company health plan will cover everything. I can offer the guidance that you need. You can cook for me. I’ll keep you bound nice and tight. And Jack, I saved some of your porn, some very nice photos that with your transformation I think you will come to enjoy even more. Jack, you’re going to lose so little and gain so much. You’ll be serving me.”

The door opens. Nurse Benson returns with a tray, alcohol swab, hypodermic needle brimming with a massive dose of anti androgen. Again she is mechanical and direct. Without a moment of hesitation, she swabs, jabs Jack’s right buttock and plunges.

“It’s for the best,” for the first time her tone soothing, the somber words offered with soft deliberation, those spoken at the funeral of the elderly and infirm.

Yes, a moment of reflection. Jack’s limited maleness is ending.

After Jack gave up his sperm sample, his recovery slow, we stroll to the reception area. There a middle aged woman has a boy on a leash. He is naked, of course, and the leash is attached to a formidable nose ring, deeply embedded. The boy kneels on all fours, his only attire a steel waist band. As Jack dresses, the cute young receptionist tosses a dog biscuit over the desk to the floor. The kneeling naked male moves with alacrity and scoops it up in his mouth without use of his hands. This brings raucous laughter from the receptionist.

“Good boy!” turning to me. “He thinks Mr. Dumond may eat it first,” explaining the haste.

Meanwhile, before Jack finishes dressing, the middle aged woman, smiling with pride, offers slack on the leash, snaps her fingers and points. Just as alacritously, the boy dog crawls to my feet and licks my shoes. I stoop and pat his head, noting that the clothing rack has only one item of clothing remaining... a simple cape... obviously worn in deference to New York City’s nudity laws.

Upon departing I look back, my line of sight for the first time offering a view from behind. Not neutered, the boy instead wears a rather intricate chastity device... steel band encircling the base of quite the sizable scrotum. The penis... not to be seen. Caged... also in steel.      

“How often do you unlock him?” I find I have to inquire.

“I don’t. No key. That’s Nurse Benson’s task... a monthly cleaning and sperm sample. You see how frisky he gets if he doesn’t get drained.”

I nod.

“Number three egg?” exhibiting my new found knowledge concerning electroejaculation.

“No, he’s used anally, opened frequently. I have some gay friends. He hates it, but it’s good discipline for him. So he takes a number five, soon to be number six,” the woman smiling wickedly.