Saturday, January 18, 2025

'Prominence - Part Three' , Segment II

There will be no furthers snippets from the published story.

Look here on the blog for vignettes narrating the travails of Robert Probert, posted haphazardly.

CB

*****

Returned to Where It Began

Robert stirs. He takes counsel of himself. He lies supine. He cannot see, opening his eyes to darkness. There is white noise filling his ears. He cannot move, arms nor legs.

It must be... the Clinic.

How? Why? When?

He thinks... the treadmill... feet pounding, legs pumping, Master Sodoma supervising, taps of the rattan to his bare buttocks... and then?

The static fades from his ears.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Probert,” the voice of Dr. Martha Humbert booms. “Back with us again.”  

Robert attempts to respond. No words come, there is something in his throat.

“You’ ve been intubated. Don’t try to speak. We’ll remove it soon. Do you recall what happened?”

Robert shakes his head. At least he is not in five point restrain as with his last visit.

“You were being exercised and passed out. Fortunately Sodoma was quick and released your testicle leash before you stumbled and castrated yourself. Satana once again had to carry you here. Your scrotum is healing, the barbed testicle rings functioned as intended,” Robert feeling fingers smooth about the hairless flesh of his sac. There is noted soreness. “An incident of myocardial ischemia... as I’ve explained... to you... and her Majesty. With your priapic state, blood flow has been constantly diverted to your penis diminishing that to your heart. Passing out results. You are now conscious, flaccid with normal circulation restored after many weeks of a continuous state of tumescence,” a finger tapping the penis tip.

It is soft. To Robert such feels odd.

“The Queen is disappointed... as you can imagine... her symbol of authority now just another floppy male appendage. We can no longer keep you infused with tadafil, Mr. Probert. The next incident of myocardial ischemia could be life threatening. This brings the need for consideration. In being neither caged nor infibulated the symbol of authority is now a symbol of defiance. The matriarchy of Zolanda has rules, protocols for mambo ne uume to which males must subordinate. So in short, a decision... decisions... must be made as to what to do with you.”

Robert is alarmed, realizing that his status has plunged... no longer erect... no longer an extension of the Queen’s prominence... no longer her sceptre.

What is to become of him?  

“I’ll have some videos for you to watch. Counter the boredom while you recover and we evaluate. Plus ensure your male esteem remains appropriately receptive to feminine supervision. I understand you’re becoming quite the cocksucker. We’ll start with one of you fellating the Queen’s castrate. Quite the energetic undertaking,” Dr. Humbert laughing, “trying to make her hard.” 

The goggles alight. There comes a video of one of the many repetitive mornings of Robert undergoing the operant conditioning of Master Satana, a smiling Bozuma presenting his/her plundered male package, Robert orally obliging. It sickens noting his level of enthusiasm. He so much wanting to earn the few minutes of rest. Ah... to simply lie down, he justifies to himself. 

An hour, more, Robert watches himself offer oral gratification... as best a castrated male can be gratified. There follow videos of him being worked on the treadmill, hands obediently placed to the back of his head, exhibiting odd pride as despite the level of exertion he remains erect for his supervising Masters. Then comes the whipping. Robert internally cringing as Master Sodoma plies her craft... so slowly... so methodically... so precisely... each snap excoriating within an inch of the previous welt.

The montage continues. Master Sodoma dons a strap on harness as his naked form leans over the bedroom stanchion. Master Satana stands before him, hands gently cradling his head. She also is naked, teasingly exhibiting herself for male eyes as Master Sodoma steps behind, gruffly parts his cheeks then thrusts to penetrate, finely muscled buttocks clenching to work his sphincter... in... out... in... out. He can see Master Satana mouth encouraging words, mocking. He can hear them in his head... that he is being fanny fucked... faux penis plunging. She points out his enjoyment... that the barometer of male lust, remaining untouched, is throbbing and oozing in celebration of ceding to feminine dominion. 

It disturbs... yet it enthralls.

The montage ends. The tracheal tube is slipped away. If his words of humble thanks receive a reply, he knows not, the static in his ears continuing. He is fed... mush... but the taste is different... evidently reformulated sans tadafil. He suspects it is the caring hand of Miss Rwanda which tenderly feeds... mother to child.  

A hand touches his penis, the shaft limp. Fingers guide the tip to the edge of a basin. He knows to empty himself... under feminine supervision... always under feminine supervision. There follows a sponge bath, Robert continuing to lie in darkness, hearing impaired, as each limb is released, caringly massaged, cleansed and returned to tight bondage. 

There come concerns over his appearance. Normally after bathing, Bozuma fastidiously prettifies. He must look terrible... he tells himself... hair a mess with the headset strapped in place, makeup for certain smeared. Then he berates himself for such concerns.

Why does he care whether or not he appears feminized? What is happening to him?  

He feels a hand fidget about his chest. It is then that Robert realizes something is attached. The sensors of an electro cardiogram. Dr. Humbert is monitoring his heart, logical after an episode of myocardial ischemia.

He must also assume there are cameras. Is he otherwise being watched... someone else in the room?

Activity ends. Apparently it is designated rest time, nothing touching, headset blank. Time for sleep... but first thought. What of his status? What is to happen to him? What of his decision to stay in Zolanda after his term of indenture ends? Flaccidity now medically mandated, he is useless as a symbol of the Queen’s authority. Will he be welcomed to stay? Oil flowing, will his knowledge of exploration and production remain of use?  


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