I note that some new followers also appreciate female bondage. Though I have written only a little, (my initial charge when writing some 10 years ago was to 'flesh out' the Femdom selections available from Pink Flamingo) there is some stuff I like.
This is from 'Suspension Bondage', available from Pink Flamingo.
****************************************************************************************************
Suspension Bondage
Copyright 2008
by Chris Bellows
Author’s Note:
Do not Google the term arroycoo. It is fictionally contrived and has no known real meaning.
*************************************************************************************
Dr. Winthrop Samuels
-------------------------
“So are you familiar with the practice of arroycoo, Dr. Samuels?” the voice husky, the accent well disguised.
The girl is composed, comfortable in speaking to a full adult some fifteen years her senior. The uncharacteristic deep voice serves to remind me that Sunny Sudenskaya is not the child she appears to be. The woman has an effervescent disposition and short styled hair which enhances her youthful presentation... bringing one to think in terms of adolescence. If she were indeed under eighteen years of age many of my thoughts would border on criminal. I cannot, for example, help wondering whether I could grasp enough hair at the back of her head to properly direct her during doggie style sex. I am concluding that I would need to hold onto her ears...
Sunny turns and lifts her face to blow a puff of smoke into the upper reaches of the nearly empty restaurant. Though well before the dinner hour, the maitre d’ notably gasps and hustles toward us. Smoking is banned by law. Sunny’s naughty smile suggests she is well aware of her transgression and stubs out the cigarette on the bread dish before the animated form arrives. All ash trays have been relegated to a makeshift smoking area... a patch of sidewalk at the entrance of the upper east side bistro.
“I forgot,” Sunny’s words contrite but her look one of playful mischief.
The maitre d’ wordlessly removes the soiled dish and snaps his fingers to a busboy.
The momentary event is telling... Sunny having this inclination to challenge rules and authority and yet to so quickly and easily capitulate.
“I have read of arroycoo. Some tribal ritual involving the suspension of the body,” I cautiously reply as the busboy places a clean bread dish before her.
I demure in saying more. As a medical professional my penchants must be kept quiet lest I endanger my license to practice. Though I am in research and do not treat patients, conventional wisdom suggests I not imperil potential return on my investment, the many hours and tedious study, which anointed me with advanced degrees. Sunny Sudenskaya came to learn of my ‘hobby’ and enticed me into this off hours meeting. Just a little talk at a quiet restaurant long before the dinner crowd, so she said.
I could not resist her charms.
Sunny smiles. So cute, so disarming when juxtaposing the subject matter with a girl who could pass for being pre pubescent.
Sunny reaches into her purse and removes pictures torn from some magazine.
“Your reputation in the community precedes you doctor. I would think you’d have more interest in something like this.”
She pushes the packet my way. I glance through a couple and immediately push the remainder back toward her.
“Someone has been telling stories out of school,” my tone one of rebuke.
Though in being torn from some mainstream nature publication, possibly as mundane as National Geographic, the pictures bring concern. Even with the bistro being void of customers, I dare not broach more of the matter in which Sunny attempts to immerse me.
“I think you can do something like that. Tribes have been safely engaging in it for years. Certainly modern science and medicine can do the same... perhaps more easily and quickly,” her tone of voice shifting to alluringly beseech.
Yes, she verbally challenges then coquettishly concedes. She is a minx. And as much as she is aware of my ‘reputation’ in the community, her own precedes as well. In fact, as she entices, her posture shifts, her shoulders roll back in retreat to exhibit evidence of sizable mammary glands... exceeding expectations for a girl aptly described as svelte.
She performs a tease. When she licks her lips, I understand with clarity her intent. I am being seduced.
But in the ‘community’, as she references my occasional weekend recreation, seduction has twists.
Sunny Sudenskaya is a masochist. And sometimes, as the old adage goes, when a masochist begs to be flogged, the role of the true sadist is best fulfilled by saying ‘no’.
So I shake my head, acknowledging her message and communicating my reply. She sulks then leans forward, finally aware of my concern for discretion despite the limited presence of others.
“I will fellate you. Yours to command,” she whispers in a sultry voice.
I smile. Though a medical professional should be more insouciant, the thought of warm, smooth and wet feminine skin engulfing that which brings the ultimate masculine pleasure can bring enthusiastic visions. I begin to understand that Sunny Sudenskaya is in earnest. I sit back in contemplation, more fully focusing on the emptiness of the restaurant and becoming more comfortable.
“You have family, Sunny?”
She shakes her head.
“Distant cousins in Bulgaria. I would not recognize them if we shared a cab.”
My question spurs more discussion. This could work. I have an old friend who enjoys ‘adopting’ miscreant young girls.
“No one would know,” she emphasizes. “I could work during the day. Nights I would be yours.”
She has me thinking and she knows it, letting my imagination percolate. Many factors rush through my mind. Career, social life... both vanilla and in the community..., my ‘hobby’. Finally the time required, procuring supplies and the apparatus necessary for arroycoo.
Sunny seems to read my thoughts.
“I have a loft. Not quite Nolita. The building has not been fully gentrified. It’s quiet... but large.”
Sunny references the latest New York apartment phenomenon... the transition of what was once one of the seediest areas of Manhattan... north of little Italy (Nolita)... where only the specters of Bowery bums remain. Now quite the trendy area, she is merely nearby, I am sure the modesty of her digs mandated by limited income.
“It will be painful. I will not administer anesthetic,” I forewarn.
She nods, her ostensible reluctance mixed with that peculiar inward frisson when a masochist encounters the eventuality of pain... the body’s need to avoid... the mind challenging it to endure.
“And expensive, Sunny. You’ll offer more than fellatio. But you will enjoy it.”
She beams, but then feigns concern... playing the role of Scarlet O’Hara... imagining what a manly brute would force from her helpless form. I know that vulnerability excites... as does the unknown. Yes... a minx... and one whose proclivity so nicely complements mine.
“I will need some time... for equipment,” I conclude.
Sunny happily blushes as I reach forth and gather the packet of pictures.
“And you will need to practice... opening a zipper... with your lips and teeth.”
************************************************************************************
Medical research can sometimes be compared to flying a commercial aircraft... many hours of boredom punctuated by moments of frazzling activity... such as when the weather closes in... or in the lab when many weeks of testing conclude and there is hurried need to statistically analyze and evaluate. Most times I wait, reviewing interim reports which need to be monitored for gross malfunction, experiments going bad. But otherwise letting the passage of time bring results.
So the boredom often brings thoughts of Sunny Sudenskaya and her proposal. Short hair, boyish good looks, appropriately attired she could pass for an alter boy. Yet I recall the shoulder movement, intended to project those glands and attract, which they did. She is alluring, a temptress. And in knowing my ‘hobby’ she tempts most seductively. The deep guttural voice, accented, is provocative on a dark haired girl of some one hundred pounds. She is not to be forgotten.
In my field of medical devices, I have access to a sophisticated metal working shop. We make artificial joints... mainly knees and hips. We even do knuckles. Each of those is custom made... the high expense reserved for the occasional professional who too early in life has lost the use of a finger through arthritis or injury.
So making implements for Sunny’s desired arroycoo is easy. I am known to work late in the lab. And the scrap pile of nickel cobalt yields dozens of small bits which will not be missed. Shaping such to my needs and polishing to fine smoothness takes time, but as I picture such adorning the lithe form of Sunny, the time goes quickly. The alloy is readily accepted by the human body. And is strong.
Research on the internet brings some ideas. Gadgets for introducing grommets to clothing, leather and canvas attract my attention. With a masters degree in mechanical engineering, it appears to me that one such apparatus, used in sail making, can be purchased and modified. Sunny’s flesh will more easily yield than the coarse and rugged textiles used on large yachts. But I have plans for the temptress which will take her far beyond her current limits and what she envisions.
In nearing readiness, I call a plumbing supply store. Having sketched what I need, I list the number of feet of pipe along with numerous fittings. It is an easy matter to fax the order and have all delivered to Sunny’s loft.
************************************************************************************
Weeks later we meet again. Same restaurant near me. Same time, late afternoon. The maitre d’ glances at Sunny with concern. She offers no concession that she will not light up again. Always challenging.
“Some men arrived. Brought in lots of metal,” Sunny exclaims as we are shown to a table. “Am I expecting a plumbing problem?”
A girlish giggle disguises a tinge of concern. My planned frame is now just a pile of pipes which Sunny obviously cannot mentally transform to usefulness.
“You will see in time,” I vaguely reply.
We sit. She brazenly orders wine, knowing she is not old enough to drink. Knowing once again to challenge the rules. I am going to have fun taming her.
I come to the point as our drink order is completed and the waiter leaves us alone.
“Before we begin, taking you down a road from which you will not return, I want to show you this.”
I retrieve from my jacket pocket what appears to be a staple gun. Modified after many hours of toil I load it with a finely crafted lump of nickel cobalt and thread my napkin between two jutting prongs. With a forceful press there comes a click, a notable snap and the prongs pinch the cloth.
“Presto.”
I toss the napkin to Sunny. Embedded in the corner is a newly made small hole bordered by a circle of metal of one centimeter.
“In one motion it penetrates, pushes aside the cloth to widen the opening and rolls the bordering metal to seal with permanency. A grommet... but penetrating quite formidably.”
An amazed Sunny toys with her fingers. The dull metal is securely attached.
“I’d show you again but the nickel cobalt is rather expensive.”
“The metal is hard, yes?” her excitement exposing her normally cloaked accent.
“Extremely,” I advise as her fingers toy, amazed with the smoothness of the finished opening.
While she busies herself I find a clasp in my pocket, reach forth and clip it through the hole. With zeal, Sunny reaches to grasp the clasp and dangles the napkin over the table. She giggles.
“This can be... me?” she utters in a combination of apprehension and odd joy.
The waiter approaches and the napkin is lowered, even Sunny having some sense of decorum. We are silent as the drinks are poured. Chardonnay for her. A cold brew for me.
“Yes, it will be you. Consider carefully. I have made many grommets... and of various sizes.”
Sunny’s eyes glaze over, obviously fantasizing some sadomasochistic scene. Her hand goes to the napkin to inspect again, pulling the clasp to ensure permanency. She seems to shiver as the well embedded grommet withstands her testing stress. My hand goes to her wine.
“You’re not twenty one,” I admonish. “You’re going to learn to be a good girl.”
She lugubriously pouts as I slide away her glass.
******************************************************************************
By design, I have Sunny drink water and deny her substantial food... a light salad. She has consented to be modified. And in having spent many hours redesigning the grommet contraption and stealthily working in the lab’s metal shop, my enthusiasm grows. Plus there is Sunny, such ostensible innocence tinged with immoral thought. So girlishly innocent... yet so wicked.
“I want to see your loft,” I summarily announce in paying the check.
“We will need to the take the Lex to the BMT,” Sunny delighted to display her knowledge of New York’s subway system.
“A cab will do. I will pay.”
We depart. As I follow her to the exit, Sunny does not see me reload my grommet device. There will be no changing of minds. Not hers... and certainly not mine.
“How do you handle pain?” I casually inquire while awaiting a cab.
She smiles, looking away in shyness.
“Pain is something created by the mind... and therefore something the mind needs to overcome.”
Among my weekend adventurers, those trusted few with whom I share my hobby, Sunny has a reputation for endurance. I have not ‘scened’ with her, but she has been known to withstand lengthy floggings at the all too public S&M clubs, places which I avoid.
I contemplate her succinct reply... flippant reply?.. as a cab pulls up and a couple exits to enter the restaurant. We commandeer and Sunny slides in behind the driver. She offers the address, Ludlow Street, a part of Manhattan I have never before reconnoitered.
“I will go slowly with you Sunny. But I reiterate, there will be no going back. I’m not really sure how this can be reversed. You saw the napkin. My contraption is frightfully efficient. Rather reminds me of firing a gun, such devastating results from the simple pull of a trigger.”
Sunny nods in thought. There is no hint of reservation. It appears that she is indeed thinking of the napkin and the relative permanence of the embedded circle of nickel cobalt. To remove it one would need to shred the cloth.
“It is quick, this ‘gun’ of yours?”
“You saw how quick.”
“I prefer something slower. Something which challenges... suffering which one endures to overcome... if one can.”
“That will come as well. You shall endure both.”
In turning onto First Avenue, the cab picks up pace. I note that the driver cannot see Sunny in the rear view mirror. And in approaching wave after wave of traffic lights, he only has opportunity to glance back on occasion. I remove my contraption and again show it to Sunny.
“Quick. Painful. Permanent. And I shall enjoy using it on you Sunny. Probably as effective as a brand or tattoo.”
She shudders. Yes the brisance of the masochist. The delightful mental conflict which the curious proclivity brings.
“Will I bleed?”
“About as much as you would in receiving a hypodermic injection. The device creates an initial pinprick which I have designed to instantly widen to accommodate the circle of metal... which with equal quickness folds at the perimeter to form the smooth opening you examined... and make it unremovable.”
“Where?”
“Any place I decide. That is for me to control... not you.”
She nods. There is fear... but there is enjoyment. Her eyes glaze in thought.
“Ready to begin your journey, Sunny?”
She nods. There is reluctance but acceptance... the masochist long ago having surrendered herself to life as a pin cushion.
I lean. My left hand reaches to the back of her neck. I note that my curiosity is indulged in that I can indeed grasp enough hair to guide her head. In one smooth and continuous motion I tilt back her head, my right hand lifts the contraption.
“Steady now, Sunny. Bear a little pain for me. Be a good girl for Dr. Samuels.”
As I slip the prongs up her nostrils, I am reminded of my years as an intern, offering the myriad of injections to frightened children. I press, pulling the trigger on my peculiar gun. It clicks. It snaps. There comes the stifled shriek of a little girl. I quickly withdraw. A handkerchief is offered. There are more tears than blood. As described the opening is small. Plus I have pierced the cartilage of her septum well up her nostrils where there is limited circulation.
I have grommeted the interior of Sunny’s nose. Not detectable to the unwary. But I cannot dismiss Sunny with a mere puncture... a little hole between her nostrils. No I have in my pocket a little clasp with a slim connecting cord. And as she dabs away her tears... not a word of protest I note... my hand returns to thrust the open clasp up her left nostril, thread it through her new grommet and hook it down her right nostril where it clicks shut.
“Feel better Sunny? A girl like you pines for control. And you shall have it.”
A little tug on the cord demonstrates. The tension cannot be resisted. That pretty little head moves about in response as I toy. And Sunny stares into my eyes in wonderment. Yes, sometimes the role of the sadist is fulfilled by saying ‘no’. But other times it is more fun to offer an emphatic ‘Yes’.
Friday, August 20, 2010
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
New Followers
Lots of new followers of late. Not sure what has triggered the interest, but welcome and feel free to comment on any of the stories and snippets.
Started this blog as an exchange of ideas...
Started this blog as an exchange of ideas...
Monday, August 9, 2010
New Book Published on Lulu
'Kept Naked, Made Eager to Please' has been released on Lulu. 37,000 words. $ 6.50.
www.lulu.com Item number 9202497
http://www.lulu.com/product/ebook/kept-naked-made-eager-to-please/12183446
Enjoy... and as always please comment.
www.lulu.com Item number 9202497
http://www.lulu.com/product/ebook/kept-naked-made-eager-to-please/12183446
Enjoy... and as always please comment.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Another Story III - Kept Naked, Made Eager to Please
More. I like the title. Comments?
*****************************************************************************************
“How does it feel?” a crooked finger simply hooks the nasal loop and gently pulls right then left. Gregory’s face instantly follows, the thousands of nerving endings mandating that stress there be minimized.
“Owww. It’s like something tugging on my brain.”
Dr. Audrey laughs.
“Yes, the sinuses offer quite the lever for control, don’t you think?”
Gregory nods, hating himself for having to agree.
“Want to walk for me? Get some exercise?”
“Yes please.”
Gregory cannot count the hours in the stocks. He knows it has been for more than one day. And by now he realizes everything is under the control of the imposing Miss V and the equally daunting Dr. Audrey Meredith Darrows.
“Good. I’ll walk you. I like walking a boy.”
The doctor steps to a corner of the stall and removes a black cloth garment from a wall hook. There is also a wooden pole which she takes in her right hand.
“We’re going to go very slowly and you will need to listen carefully and respond to my voice and pulls on the training pole.”
Gregory stares at the simple but ominous length of wood. On one end of the six foot length is a clasp, and he immediately knows of its purpose.
“Here we go. Your first training session.”
The cloth garment of black is a hood, easily slipped over Gregory’s entrapped head. With a single hole for the mouth and nose it curtails his vision. Loose strings are somewhat tightened about the neck line and then sure enough, Gregory feels fingers working about his nose loop. The training pole is attached.
“Now, when I release the stocks, you are to stand and place your hands behind your head. I will then guide you from the stall and we’ll walk about a bit. If you’re good we’ll go outside and get you some air.”
“But I have no clothing,” Gregory protests.
The doctor laughs.
“Another rule... no talking. Boys that talk eventually have their vocal cords sutured.”
Gregory feels his wrists loosen and his heart leaps as the thick plank rises from the back of his neck. Overwhelmed with joy he diligently obeys, standing, his knees somewhat shaky, and places his hands behind his head. He realizes that the doctor is graciously moving the training pole, alleviating any undesired tension on his nasal loop.
He also notes that the pole places her beyond reach of his hands, should he seek to strike out in defiance. And with sight denied, he doubts whether he can release the clasp before his governing woman can lift and place him in intense agony for his disobedience. And sure enough, he receives a quick demonstration, feeling powerful upward tension on the nasal loop, the slightest motion of the doctor’s hand translating through leverage into incredibly painful stress on his sinuses.
He cries out with the pain hearing Dr. Audrey chuckle, learning of her sang froid in delivering her message of total control.
“Now you know to be good. Come, walk for me.”
The words are offered as an encouraging mother to a child taking his first steps. But a slight pull on the nasal loop brings incredible agony. Gregory begins to understand the fiendish design. Though there comes an initial reaction of resistance, perhaps to strike out at she bringing pain, the pole places her beyond reach. Yet he is well within her control, the slightest jostling transmitting unbearable stress on the deeply penetrating loop.
So the initial vengeful thought quickly wanes, all thoughts turning to the minimization of duress. And Gregory learns that the woman is masterful in bringing his naked form well under her auspices, her words of instruction quick, clear and timely.
“Right foot... left. A turn to the right. Three steps forward. We’ll pause...”
Gregory’s mind becomes immersed. Thoughts of resistance dissipate. Within minutes he feels the warmth of sunlight and an odd sense of gratitude glows with it. Yet he is naked and outdoors! To be seen by whom!
“Yes, you are a good boy, Gregory. No longer disorderly... yet remaining indecently exposed for me. Do you like being stripped of all clothing before a woman? Brought under her exacting control? You may speak”
“I... I... don’t know.”
The pole brings him to a stop. He feels a finger tip playfully diddle the underside of his penis. He has not before realized that somehow, for some reason, he has stiffened for his trainer.
“I think I have my answer.”
Silence ensues, Dr. Audrey leaving her naked charge to his thoughts as she walks with deliberation assuring Gregory directionally follows, responding first to obviously right or left tension on the nasal loop. In time he will learn to instantly react to the slightest change, the training at the farm of Dr. Audrey Meredith Darrows known to be endless and exacting.
Gregory knows not where he is, but the dirt is smooth and powdery, easy on his feet. The wind rustles through trees and the scent of pine is strong. Offered sight, he would mostly likely agree that Dr. Audrey has adequately described the seclusion of her homestead. Strangely, there comes a radiant glow of comfort. For the first time in many hours he can move... somewhat fettered... but move.
“Feels good to be out of the stocks?” Dr. Audrey inquires in leading him back to the barn.
“Yes, ma’am... I suppose.”
“Well we’ll do this again... and again. I think you enjoy it.”
Gregory once again feels a finger tip ever so teasingly diddling the underside of his penis. Yes, it has remained standing for the entire interval of exercise.
******************************************************************************
Back in the stocks, Gregory finds his time with Miss V to be dichotomously pleasant and aggravating. There is the depilation of his entire body, his scrotum seeming to be set afire with each application of the twice daily coating of chemicals. But then comes the removal, knowing hands laving his nakedness with warm water and soft chamois. And after that Miss V slathers his form with a sweet smelling viscous lotion, massaging and kneading everywhere. It tingles, bringing enervation to skin he can longer touch, his entrapped muscles most appreciative of her tendance... the amazingly powerful hands bringing grateful relief to long cramped limbs.
And yes he stiffens, the period of chastity causing hormone levels to mount, the priapic young male reacting with increasing firmness. And Miss V encourages, complimenting each stand.
“It’s so nice of you to show off for me, Gregory.”
With the words will come a brief and momentarily satisfying caress of his shaft, perhaps even an evanescent squeeze and twist, her hand action both pleasurable yet frustrating.
Yes, there is operant conditioning, the captured male trained to display his virility most unabashedly. Gregory learns that a good stiff penis earns him kind words and pleasurable, though brief, attention, his time otherwise spent kneeling or lying in tedious unending bondage.
Feeding times bring some degree of entertainment. Miss V stands quite proximate, the small patch limiting coverage of her mons shifting about as she reaches for another spoonful of sustenance. The flashes of pink, now deemed succulent by the chaste, distract... but do so with welcome.
On or about the fifth day of his captivity, Gregory outright gawks, not disguising his interest as the covering flops about. Miss V notes his attentiveness and challenges.
“Many boys here like to taste as well as look, Gregory,” her tone of voice playful.
Gregory has no clever retort. Though the offer seems most inviting, too generous, he knows not what to say.
“Would you like to taste as well?”
How can he not nod his head, the many days of exacting servitude, of bondage, of depilation, and beg for lustful diversion? Though the stocks encumber, there comes a strained motion and a humble ‘yes’.
“Good. Well you have to earn the privilege. I want you to stiffen for me. Bring yourself to a nice stand, a big hard on for Miss V.”
With that, Miss V puts aside the food bowl and spoon. Her right hand lowers and the fingers pull aside the small almost irrelevant flap of cloth, to reveal in full glory her most enticing sex. Well trimmed, pressed within meaty brown outer labia are luscious folds of pink inner flesh, seeming to beckon a parting tongue. Above, a sizable hood serves to veil what Gregory imagines to be an inviting pearl of feminine pleasure, begging to be engulfed, devoured, hungrily sucked into the warm wet of a subservient mouth.
Yes, Gregory’s gawk intensifies, outright staring, his hunger evident though sustenance has been well offered.
Miss V smiles and momentarily steps to the side, peering beneath the kneeling form to note the reaction. Yes, Gregory obediently stiffens, his hormones, his conditioning spurring the desired result.
“Yes, a taste for my erect plaything,” Miss V announces.
The fingers of the left hand again push aside the patch, then press and splay to part the outer labia, The fingers of the right dive within, gathering an abundance of warm wet. Gregory then finds disappointment as she slowly coats his face with her essence, the aroma overwhelming. Then fingers finally find his lips, there to offer a taste as bargained.
“I prefer you to be hard for me, Gregory. I take care of you, and you in turn need to please me... and showing off your erect penis... performing for me... pleases.”
******************************************************************************
And so to Gregory’s grueling protocol, lying prostrate with penis and balls well exposed, and pressed to the floor, kneeling in his stocks while depilated and fed, being trained to walk blindfolded and respond to a woman’s directing tugs, comes the need... perhaps an ingrained desire... to stiffen... and earn the lustful offering of Miss V’s juices.
Day after day after day.
Yes, Gregory hardens to the sound of Miss V’s approaching voice. He also finds that being walked about naked and leashed to the training pole also brings a priapic response. Yet since there is no one to disapprove, no observers to jeer, scold and upbraid, he lets what is seeming to become a natural response continue unfettered.
And his keepers seem pleased... and that in turn strangely pleases him.
*****************************************************************************************
“How does it feel?” a crooked finger simply hooks the nasal loop and gently pulls right then left. Gregory’s face instantly follows, the thousands of nerving endings mandating that stress there be minimized.
“Owww. It’s like something tugging on my brain.”
Dr. Audrey laughs.
“Yes, the sinuses offer quite the lever for control, don’t you think?”
Gregory nods, hating himself for having to agree.
“Want to walk for me? Get some exercise?”
“Yes please.”
Gregory cannot count the hours in the stocks. He knows it has been for more than one day. And by now he realizes everything is under the control of the imposing Miss V and the equally daunting Dr. Audrey Meredith Darrows.
“Good. I’ll walk you. I like walking a boy.”
The doctor steps to a corner of the stall and removes a black cloth garment from a wall hook. There is also a wooden pole which she takes in her right hand.
“We’re going to go very slowly and you will need to listen carefully and respond to my voice and pulls on the training pole.”
Gregory stares at the simple but ominous length of wood. On one end of the six foot length is a clasp, and he immediately knows of its purpose.
“Here we go. Your first training session.”
The cloth garment of black is a hood, easily slipped over Gregory’s entrapped head. With a single hole for the mouth and nose it curtails his vision. Loose strings are somewhat tightened about the neck line and then sure enough, Gregory feels fingers working about his nose loop. The training pole is attached.
“Now, when I release the stocks, you are to stand and place your hands behind your head. I will then guide you from the stall and we’ll walk about a bit. If you’re good we’ll go outside and get you some air.”
“But I have no clothing,” Gregory protests.
The doctor laughs.
“Another rule... no talking. Boys that talk eventually have their vocal cords sutured.”
Gregory feels his wrists loosen and his heart leaps as the thick plank rises from the back of his neck. Overwhelmed with joy he diligently obeys, standing, his knees somewhat shaky, and places his hands behind his head. He realizes that the doctor is graciously moving the training pole, alleviating any undesired tension on his nasal loop.
He also notes that the pole places her beyond reach of his hands, should he seek to strike out in defiance. And with sight denied, he doubts whether he can release the clasp before his governing woman can lift and place him in intense agony for his disobedience. And sure enough, he receives a quick demonstration, feeling powerful upward tension on the nasal loop, the slightest motion of the doctor’s hand translating through leverage into incredibly painful stress on his sinuses.
He cries out with the pain hearing Dr. Audrey chuckle, learning of her sang froid in delivering her message of total control.
“Now you know to be good. Come, walk for me.”
The words are offered as an encouraging mother to a child taking his first steps. But a slight pull on the nasal loop brings incredible agony. Gregory begins to understand the fiendish design. Though there comes an initial reaction of resistance, perhaps to strike out at she bringing pain, the pole places her beyond reach. Yet he is well within her control, the slightest jostling transmitting unbearable stress on the deeply penetrating loop.
So the initial vengeful thought quickly wanes, all thoughts turning to the minimization of duress. And Gregory learns that the woman is masterful in bringing his naked form well under her auspices, her words of instruction quick, clear and timely.
“Right foot... left. A turn to the right. Three steps forward. We’ll pause...”
Gregory’s mind becomes immersed. Thoughts of resistance dissipate. Within minutes he feels the warmth of sunlight and an odd sense of gratitude glows with it. Yet he is naked and outdoors! To be seen by whom!
“Yes, you are a good boy, Gregory. No longer disorderly... yet remaining indecently exposed for me. Do you like being stripped of all clothing before a woman? Brought under her exacting control? You may speak”
“I... I... don’t know.”
The pole brings him to a stop. He feels a finger tip playfully diddle the underside of his penis. He has not before realized that somehow, for some reason, he has stiffened for his trainer.
“I think I have my answer.”
Silence ensues, Dr. Audrey leaving her naked charge to his thoughts as she walks with deliberation assuring Gregory directionally follows, responding first to obviously right or left tension on the nasal loop. In time he will learn to instantly react to the slightest change, the training at the farm of Dr. Audrey Meredith Darrows known to be endless and exacting.
Gregory knows not where he is, but the dirt is smooth and powdery, easy on his feet. The wind rustles through trees and the scent of pine is strong. Offered sight, he would mostly likely agree that Dr. Audrey has adequately described the seclusion of her homestead. Strangely, there comes a radiant glow of comfort. For the first time in many hours he can move... somewhat fettered... but move.
“Feels good to be out of the stocks?” Dr. Audrey inquires in leading him back to the barn.
“Yes, ma’am... I suppose.”
“Well we’ll do this again... and again. I think you enjoy it.”
Gregory once again feels a finger tip ever so teasingly diddling the underside of his penis. Yes, it has remained standing for the entire interval of exercise.
******************************************************************************
Back in the stocks, Gregory finds his time with Miss V to be dichotomously pleasant and aggravating. There is the depilation of his entire body, his scrotum seeming to be set afire with each application of the twice daily coating of chemicals. But then comes the removal, knowing hands laving his nakedness with warm water and soft chamois. And after that Miss V slathers his form with a sweet smelling viscous lotion, massaging and kneading everywhere. It tingles, bringing enervation to skin he can longer touch, his entrapped muscles most appreciative of her tendance... the amazingly powerful hands bringing grateful relief to long cramped limbs.
And yes he stiffens, the period of chastity causing hormone levels to mount, the priapic young male reacting with increasing firmness. And Miss V encourages, complimenting each stand.
“It’s so nice of you to show off for me, Gregory.”
With the words will come a brief and momentarily satisfying caress of his shaft, perhaps even an evanescent squeeze and twist, her hand action both pleasurable yet frustrating.
Yes, there is operant conditioning, the captured male trained to display his virility most unabashedly. Gregory learns that a good stiff penis earns him kind words and pleasurable, though brief, attention, his time otherwise spent kneeling or lying in tedious unending bondage.
Feeding times bring some degree of entertainment. Miss V stands quite proximate, the small patch limiting coverage of her mons shifting about as she reaches for another spoonful of sustenance. The flashes of pink, now deemed succulent by the chaste, distract... but do so with welcome.
On or about the fifth day of his captivity, Gregory outright gawks, not disguising his interest as the covering flops about. Miss V notes his attentiveness and challenges.
“Many boys here like to taste as well as look, Gregory,” her tone of voice playful.
Gregory has no clever retort. Though the offer seems most inviting, too generous, he knows not what to say.
“Would you like to taste as well?”
How can he not nod his head, the many days of exacting servitude, of bondage, of depilation, and beg for lustful diversion? Though the stocks encumber, there comes a strained motion and a humble ‘yes’.
“Good. Well you have to earn the privilege. I want you to stiffen for me. Bring yourself to a nice stand, a big hard on for Miss V.”
With that, Miss V puts aside the food bowl and spoon. Her right hand lowers and the fingers pull aside the small almost irrelevant flap of cloth, to reveal in full glory her most enticing sex. Well trimmed, pressed within meaty brown outer labia are luscious folds of pink inner flesh, seeming to beckon a parting tongue. Above, a sizable hood serves to veil what Gregory imagines to be an inviting pearl of feminine pleasure, begging to be engulfed, devoured, hungrily sucked into the warm wet of a subservient mouth.
Yes, Gregory’s gawk intensifies, outright staring, his hunger evident though sustenance has been well offered.
Miss V smiles and momentarily steps to the side, peering beneath the kneeling form to note the reaction. Yes, Gregory obediently stiffens, his hormones, his conditioning spurring the desired result.
“Yes, a taste for my erect plaything,” Miss V announces.
The fingers of the left hand again push aside the patch, then press and splay to part the outer labia, The fingers of the right dive within, gathering an abundance of warm wet. Gregory then finds disappointment as she slowly coats his face with her essence, the aroma overwhelming. Then fingers finally find his lips, there to offer a taste as bargained.
“I prefer you to be hard for me, Gregory. I take care of you, and you in turn need to please me... and showing off your erect penis... performing for me... pleases.”
******************************************************************************
And so to Gregory’s grueling protocol, lying prostrate with penis and balls well exposed, and pressed to the floor, kneeling in his stocks while depilated and fed, being trained to walk blindfolded and respond to a woman’s directing tugs, comes the need... perhaps an ingrained desire... to stiffen... and earn the lustful offering of Miss V’s juices.
Day after day after day.
Yes, Gregory hardens to the sound of Miss V’s approaching voice. He also finds that being walked about naked and leashed to the training pole also brings a priapic response. Yet since there is no one to disapprove, no observers to jeer, scold and upbraid, he lets what is seeming to become a natural response continue unfettered.
And his keepers seem pleased... and that in turn strangely pleases him.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Another Story II
Comments please - I am beginning to like this story
****************************************************************************************
“It burns.”
“You’ll become accustomed to it. Twice a day until the follicles surrender. For some it requires a few days... for others weeks.”
“I need to lie down.”
“Of course you do. You’ll have many needs here. Some of which will be well addressed. Others... well overall you’ll be happy... in time. And you need to develop manners. My name is Vocinda... Miss Vocinda to my boys. But you may call me Miss V.”
Gregory listens, totally focused as he remains standing stooped at the waist in the stocks. Though exhausted, having spent most of the night indeed standing with wrists cuffed high to the cell bars, the searing pain of the depilation lotion impels the flow of adrenalin. The combined cerebral input... the need to rest... the need to address the slowly mounting pain... overwhelms. Normally feisty, somewhat truculent, the soothing voice, though quite firm, brings odd sanguineness. It is evident, in listening to her voice, sensing her palpating hands as every inch of his flesh is coated, that she has before handled boys... naked boys... well bound boys... boys enduring trauma.
“How do your balls feel? The reaction of skin there is the worst I am told.”
“They’re on fire!”
“Just a little pain to please us. It’s all in your mind, remember that. And the results are well worth it. A nice smooth and pink scrotum for the doctor. We like that here.”
“You’re bitches!”
Lotion fully applied, Miss V steps to the front, finally offering her huge form for full gaze.
“Tsk, tsk. Such manners.”
Gregory stares in astonishment. The woman of color is over six foot and broad... but only at the shoulders and hips. A tubular halter covers only the mammary glands, leaving arms and massive shoulders bare. With the slightest motion, uncovered abdominal muscles ripple as do thigh muscles. But what most attracts the young male eye is the very brief loosely hanging patch of cloth which most immodesty serves to veil her pubes... until she moves. Then a well trimmed mons flashes into view... tantalizing... forcing libidinous thoughts. Only a thin cord circling about the hips, seemingly a mere string, precludes complete nakedness from the waist downward.
“You’ll soon learn your place. The more obstreperous at the start, the more quickly they become obedient.”
A simple finger extends, curling to hook within the newly installed loop of hardened rubber, and pulling upward. Gregory senses instant agony, making the slow burn of the depilation lotion pale.
“You should begin to imagine yourself on the end of a leash... and what a firm correcting tug will feel like,” Miss V interjecting for the first time the practicality of the nasal modification. “So no more invectives.”
Gregory looks up into a most handsome face of deep mocha. It is a knowing face... exuding confidence... knowledge... though appearing youthful there is a comforting maturity.
“You’re here to perform for us. And you will soon learn to enjoy performing for us. This is not the place to make trouble. You should apologize.”
The finger slowly increases the tension on the loop until Gregory yelps with the intense pain. Miss V smiles and eases the tension... momentarily.
“Now what do you have to say?”
“I am sorry Miss V.”
“Good boy. How does it feel having a woman control you like that?”
“It feels as if something has entered my brain, like you’re tugging on my mind.”
“Yes, they all report about the same reaction. Rather effective form of bondage, wouldn’t you agree. As big as I am... as strong as I am... it was only my index finger that brought capitulation, Gregory.”
Miss V releases.
“Time for a rinse. When it stops burning, that means it’s done.”
Once again Miss V steps from sight and Gregory feels her hands, now known to be powerful and quite governing, as every inch of his flesh is laved with warm comforting rinsing water. It feels good, and despite the stress, the lack of sleep, he feels a twitch within his loins. He curses himself, but there is strange comfort as the woman tenderly assures the lotion is removed. Her divine near nakedness prompted a degree of stimulation. And now with his genitals left for last, Gregory convinces himself that he is firming... and it embarrasses. Sure enough, as the warm wet chamois caresses, Miss V takes note.
“Yes, a nice firm erection for me. You’ll be performing for sure.”
With the lotion gone, to emphasize her point, the same directing finger used to demonstrate the nasal loop presses downward on the engorged penis tip, then instantly slips away. Gregory learns just how tumescent has been his reaction. The organ snaps upwards to thump against his belly, bringing forth girlish laughter.
“You now see why we restrain your hands. I am sure a boy like you would like to play.”
An otherwise vociferous Gregory has no retort. As Miss V lowers the stocks, enabling him to lie somewhat prostrate in long over due rest, he utters a very meek and sheepish ‘thank you’.
“You’ll need to soften. I want you flat on your belly, penis pointing down, balls well exposed between your thighs.”
Gregory feels fingers poking and prodding to bring his organs into compliance. With his firmness there comes discomfort and that fosters the required flaccidity. Then he feels tension on his ankle cuffs. Such have been attached to something behind him, mandating the prostrate position and that he indeed lie flat, his manhood awkwardly forced in the desired direction his plump denuded testicles nestled between parted thighs.
“That’s good. We like it when a boy shows himself.”
Gregory feels teasing fingers augmenting the sense of exposure... the display of his organs.
“Do not soil the floor. We supervise all toilet functions here,” Miss V stepping forth and holding a metal bowl to make her point.
****************************************************************************************
Gregory awakens. How long he has slept he cannot know. He can hear the pleasant yet demanding voice of Miss V. She speaks, but there are heard not any discernible replies. Still, it is apparent there are others in the barn as daylight better illuminates.
The presence of the nasal loop stirs the memory of the daunting procedure, the seemingly combustible depilation cream... and lastly the humiliation of tumefying in response to his care giver’s touch. And whereas rest felt good, Gregory’s bounds have not permitted an iota of motion. Whereas sleep was paramount, his limbs now crave mobility.
“That’s a good boy. Spread nice and wide for me.”
Yes, the demanding controlling voice, offering encouraging words for someone whose behavior is deemed apropos.
Finally the mammoth figure steps around a wooden petition to Gregory’s front. She smiles most charmingly then disappears behind. A bare foot brushes the well exposed penis and scrotum, then teasingly caresses.
“Sleep well?”
“Yes, Miss V, but I need to be released.”
“Of course you do.”
There comes odd gratitude as the woman who so tightly bound now loosens the ankle tethers. Then she reappears to the front bends at the waist and meaty hands slip under the ponderous pair of planks which entrap hands and head.
“Up you go. Kneel for me.” Miss V sprightly offers in lifting.
The height of the planks, attached to posts right and left, is adjustable.
“Good boy.”
Gregory shifts his legs, changing from his forced prostrate position, his knees mercifully bending, his feet sliding beneath. Then as Miss V disappears to his rear he notes for the first time that her buttocks... large, well, rounded, muscular but still alluringly feminine... are completely uncovered. He is disappointed with only a glimpse. Then he feels fingers rummaging about his rectum.
“What!”
“Just a suppository. With so many boys, I have to keep all the bowels on schedule,” she casually coos despite the untidy stigma of the subject matter.
Miss V returns to sight. The metal bowl awaits on floor of the stall. She retrieves it and stands most proximate to Gregory’s encumbered head, the loose patch covering her pubes flopping about to flash the brownish pink of her sex beneath.
“Say when, no sloppiness,” she again advises as she tousles his hair.
“When will I get out of this thing? You cannot keep me like this forever!”
Miss V laughs... a knowing laugh... a wordless retort to apparent naivete. She pats his cheek.
“Oh, Gregory, you’d be surprised what we can do... and what you can... and will... endure. Release will be ours to offer... not yours to request. Miss V will give you a nice massage if you perform for me. Just part your knees and fill the basin.”
“Ok. It’s working,” the words are humble and difficult to offer, but Gregory finds the suppository to be effective.
“And I think you need a hair cut. It will make you feel better. Cooler for you when we work you,” Miss C advises as she once again steps out of sight to the rear.
Gregory spreads and feels the basin positioned between his knees. He is most chagrined to have to empty himself in such a manner. His words are not the only humble reaction. He feels himself blushing and quivers as the powerful knowing hands, those that palpated every inch of his flesh the night before, assist by splaying his cheeks.
“You don’t need...”
“Hush. Just perform. Learning to perform is important here. You’ll become very accustomed to my touch.”
In silence, Gregory’s bowels move to complete the ignoble deed, his excrement plunking to the waiting bowl.
“Your bladder,” no sooner said then Miss V grasps his penis and the plunking is followed by the hiss and pinging of his flow.
“Yes, such a good boy. I think you enjoy being handled by a woman, Gregory.”
The thought embarrasses. Still, nature’s call is answered, and in finishing, Gregory feels the controlling hand shake rather teasingly in assuring all droplets are captured. No sloppiness indeed.
“Would you like to harden again for me? Come, make yourself nice and stiff for Miss V. So many of my boys like to show off for me.”
Such a sultry tone of voice, such curiously encouraging words. As the hand releases and Miss V stows the bowl, Gregory indeed feels himself engorge.
What is happening?
Shears appear from somewhere as Miss V returns to his front. In nearness, Gregory cannot help wordlessly gazing at the partially covered pubes as his head is shorn of hair.
“Yes, you all enjoy giving up control... and peeking... and some like to taste,” Miss V’s words tantalizing, as a hand lowers to briefly slip aside the limited covering of the small patch.
The expanse of pinkish brown entices... as does an coaxing whiff of her sex. Gregory’s eyes bulge...in desire... in need... in lust.
“Good boys get to enjoy. Very good boys get to feast.”
The offer distracts, clumps of Gregory’s hair summarily falling to the barn floor. Then the effort becomes more meticulous, Miss V careful to clip to the very scalp.
“The hood will fit better as well.”
There follows a massage. Gregory never thought the firm hands of a woman could feel so good. He stiffens again for her, on this occasion much less chagrined.
****************************************************************************************
“It burns.”
“You’ll become accustomed to it. Twice a day until the follicles surrender. For some it requires a few days... for others weeks.”
“I need to lie down.”
“Of course you do. You’ll have many needs here. Some of which will be well addressed. Others... well overall you’ll be happy... in time. And you need to develop manners. My name is Vocinda... Miss Vocinda to my boys. But you may call me Miss V.”
Gregory listens, totally focused as he remains standing stooped at the waist in the stocks. Though exhausted, having spent most of the night indeed standing with wrists cuffed high to the cell bars, the searing pain of the depilation lotion impels the flow of adrenalin. The combined cerebral input... the need to rest... the need to address the slowly mounting pain... overwhelms. Normally feisty, somewhat truculent, the soothing voice, though quite firm, brings odd sanguineness. It is evident, in listening to her voice, sensing her palpating hands as every inch of his flesh is coated, that she has before handled boys... naked boys... well bound boys... boys enduring trauma.
“How do your balls feel? The reaction of skin there is the worst I am told.”
“They’re on fire!”
“Just a little pain to please us. It’s all in your mind, remember that. And the results are well worth it. A nice smooth and pink scrotum for the doctor. We like that here.”
“You’re bitches!”
Lotion fully applied, Miss V steps to the front, finally offering her huge form for full gaze.
“Tsk, tsk. Such manners.”
Gregory stares in astonishment. The woman of color is over six foot and broad... but only at the shoulders and hips. A tubular halter covers only the mammary glands, leaving arms and massive shoulders bare. With the slightest motion, uncovered abdominal muscles ripple as do thigh muscles. But what most attracts the young male eye is the very brief loosely hanging patch of cloth which most immodesty serves to veil her pubes... until she moves. Then a well trimmed mons flashes into view... tantalizing... forcing libidinous thoughts. Only a thin cord circling about the hips, seemingly a mere string, precludes complete nakedness from the waist downward.
“You’ll soon learn your place. The more obstreperous at the start, the more quickly they become obedient.”
A simple finger extends, curling to hook within the newly installed loop of hardened rubber, and pulling upward. Gregory senses instant agony, making the slow burn of the depilation lotion pale.
“You should begin to imagine yourself on the end of a leash... and what a firm correcting tug will feel like,” Miss V interjecting for the first time the practicality of the nasal modification. “So no more invectives.”
Gregory looks up into a most handsome face of deep mocha. It is a knowing face... exuding confidence... knowledge... though appearing youthful there is a comforting maturity.
“You’re here to perform for us. And you will soon learn to enjoy performing for us. This is not the place to make trouble. You should apologize.”
The finger slowly increases the tension on the loop until Gregory yelps with the intense pain. Miss V smiles and eases the tension... momentarily.
“Now what do you have to say?”
“I am sorry Miss V.”
“Good boy. How does it feel having a woman control you like that?”
“It feels as if something has entered my brain, like you’re tugging on my mind.”
“Yes, they all report about the same reaction. Rather effective form of bondage, wouldn’t you agree. As big as I am... as strong as I am... it was only my index finger that brought capitulation, Gregory.”
Miss V releases.
“Time for a rinse. When it stops burning, that means it’s done.”
Once again Miss V steps from sight and Gregory feels her hands, now known to be powerful and quite governing, as every inch of his flesh is laved with warm comforting rinsing water. It feels good, and despite the stress, the lack of sleep, he feels a twitch within his loins. He curses himself, but there is strange comfort as the woman tenderly assures the lotion is removed. Her divine near nakedness prompted a degree of stimulation. And now with his genitals left for last, Gregory convinces himself that he is firming... and it embarrasses. Sure enough, as the warm wet chamois caresses, Miss V takes note.
“Yes, a nice firm erection for me. You’ll be performing for sure.”
With the lotion gone, to emphasize her point, the same directing finger used to demonstrate the nasal loop presses downward on the engorged penis tip, then instantly slips away. Gregory learns just how tumescent has been his reaction. The organ snaps upwards to thump against his belly, bringing forth girlish laughter.
“You now see why we restrain your hands. I am sure a boy like you would like to play.”
An otherwise vociferous Gregory has no retort. As Miss V lowers the stocks, enabling him to lie somewhat prostrate in long over due rest, he utters a very meek and sheepish ‘thank you’.
“You’ll need to soften. I want you flat on your belly, penis pointing down, balls well exposed between your thighs.”
Gregory feels fingers poking and prodding to bring his organs into compliance. With his firmness there comes discomfort and that fosters the required flaccidity. Then he feels tension on his ankle cuffs. Such have been attached to something behind him, mandating the prostrate position and that he indeed lie flat, his manhood awkwardly forced in the desired direction his plump denuded testicles nestled between parted thighs.
“That’s good. We like it when a boy shows himself.”
Gregory feels teasing fingers augmenting the sense of exposure... the display of his organs.
“Do not soil the floor. We supervise all toilet functions here,” Miss V stepping forth and holding a metal bowl to make her point.
****************************************************************************************
Gregory awakens. How long he has slept he cannot know. He can hear the pleasant yet demanding voice of Miss V. She speaks, but there are heard not any discernible replies. Still, it is apparent there are others in the barn as daylight better illuminates.
The presence of the nasal loop stirs the memory of the daunting procedure, the seemingly combustible depilation cream... and lastly the humiliation of tumefying in response to his care giver’s touch. And whereas rest felt good, Gregory’s bounds have not permitted an iota of motion. Whereas sleep was paramount, his limbs now crave mobility.
“That’s a good boy. Spread nice and wide for me.”
Yes, the demanding controlling voice, offering encouraging words for someone whose behavior is deemed apropos.
Finally the mammoth figure steps around a wooden petition to Gregory’s front. She smiles most charmingly then disappears behind. A bare foot brushes the well exposed penis and scrotum, then teasingly caresses.
“Sleep well?”
“Yes, Miss V, but I need to be released.”
“Of course you do.”
There comes odd gratitude as the woman who so tightly bound now loosens the ankle tethers. Then she reappears to the front bends at the waist and meaty hands slip under the ponderous pair of planks which entrap hands and head.
“Up you go. Kneel for me.” Miss V sprightly offers in lifting.
The height of the planks, attached to posts right and left, is adjustable.
“Good boy.”
Gregory shifts his legs, changing from his forced prostrate position, his knees mercifully bending, his feet sliding beneath. Then as Miss V disappears to his rear he notes for the first time that her buttocks... large, well, rounded, muscular but still alluringly feminine... are completely uncovered. He is disappointed with only a glimpse. Then he feels fingers rummaging about his rectum.
“What!”
“Just a suppository. With so many boys, I have to keep all the bowels on schedule,” she casually coos despite the untidy stigma of the subject matter.
Miss V returns to sight. The metal bowl awaits on floor of the stall. She retrieves it and stands most proximate to Gregory’s encumbered head, the loose patch covering her pubes flopping about to flash the brownish pink of her sex beneath.
“Say when, no sloppiness,” she again advises as she tousles his hair.
“When will I get out of this thing? You cannot keep me like this forever!”
Miss V laughs... a knowing laugh... a wordless retort to apparent naivete. She pats his cheek.
“Oh, Gregory, you’d be surprised what we can do... and what you can... and will... endure. Release will be ours to offer... not yours to request. Miss V will give you a nice massage if you perform for me. Just part your knees and fill the basin.”
“Ok. It’s working,” the words are humble and difficult to offer, but Gregory finds the suppository to be effective.
“And I think you need a hair cut. It will make you feel better. Cooler for you when we work you,” Miss C advises as she once again steps out of sight to the rear.
Gregory spreads and feels the basin positioned between his knees. He is most chagrined to have to empty himself in such a manner. His words are not the only humble reaction. He feels himself blushing and quivers as the powerful knowing hands, those that palpated every inch of his flesh the night before, assist by splaying his cheeks.
“You don’t need...”
“Hush. Just perform. Learning to perform is important here. You’ll become very accustomed to my touch.”
In silence, Gregory’s bowels move to complete the ignoble deed, his excrement plunking to the waiting bowl.
“Your bladder,” no sooner said then Miss V grasps his penis and the plunking is followed by the hiss and pinging of his flow.
“Yes, such a good boy. I think you enjoy being handled by a woman, Gregory.”
The thought embarrasses. Still, nature’s call is answered, and in finishing, Gregory feels the controlling hand shake rather teasingly in assuring all droplets are captured. No sloppiness indeed.
“Would you like to harden again for me? Come, make yourself nice and stiff for Miss V. So many of my boys like to show off for me.”
Such a sultry tone of voice, such curiously encouraging words. As the hand releases and Miss V stows the bowl, Gregory indeed feels himself engorge.
What is happening?
Shears appear from somewhere as Miss V returns to his front. In nearness, Gregory cannot help wordlessly gazing at the partially covered pubes as his head is shorn of hair.
“Yes, you all enjoy giving up control... and peeking... and some like to taste,” Miss V’s words tantalizing, as a hand lowers to briefly slip aside the limited covering of the small patch.
The expanse of pinkish brown entices... as does an coaxing whiff of her sex. Gregory’s eyes bulge...in desire... in need... in lust.
“Good boys get to enjoy. Very good boys get to feast.”
The offer distracts, clumps of Gregory’s hair summarily falling to the barn floor. Then the effort becomes more meticulous, Miss V careful to clip to the very scalp.
“The hood will fit better as well.”
There follows a massage. Gregory never thought the firm hands of a woman could feel so good. He stiffens again for her, on this occasion much less chagrined.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Another story
Despite the reluctance of many to comment, I will graciously continue to offer stuff.
*************************************************************************************
Copyright 2010
By Chris Bellows
“You’re sick!”
“No, I am wealthy. That means the more apt term is that I am eccentric,” the calm voice tending to soothe.
The pithy response is accompanied by a smile and the fondling hand does not pause. The boy attains more inkling as to his circumstances, derogatory words not staying the woman from her unbounded inspection. The cradling of his testicles prompted the expletive, fingers nestling beneath, her thumb smoothing over the top of the scrotum to judge the firmness and general wholesomeness of the male reproductive organs.
“Very nice. A good set of balls,” she casually proclaims, “though they seem to affect diction... and manners.”
The hand moves to the penis and slowly draws the organ straight out. It is a brazen gesture, nothing more than a blatant maneuver to determine length. The smile broadens as the shaft twitches and the hand withdraws. The woman steps back. Her smile fails to diminish in gazing at the well tethered youthful male figure... save for wrist and ankle cuffs his complete nakedness seeming to radiate under the bright lights.
“The charge?”
“Drunk, disorderly, indecent exposure,” the nearby officer solemnly replies as if to a presiding judge.
“Excellent... exposure. Very telling. Well you can take this one off your docket. We’ll once again save the county the cost of trial and incarceration. Do give my regards to her honor.”
The woman hands over an envelope. The officer accepts, no semblance of masking the outright bribe.
“You’ll have him brought to me in the morning, as usual? I’ll leave some restraints and a hood.”
The officer nods. The woman turns to step away.
“What’s this all about, bitch?”
“Well, well, indecent exposure... and an indecent mouth. Do restrain him standing for the night. Tomorrow he’ll be more receptive to lessons of etiquette,” the intonation most ominous.
The officer smiles. The woman notes that despite the rambunctious words her acquisition quakes, her firm instructions finally engendering the gravity of his situation... his vulnerability. The indication of fear brings laughter... demonic laughter.
The boy outright shudders... as he should.
******************************************************************************
Born into a middle class but well educated family, Audrey Meredith Darrows lived many years a normal life... school... boys... athletics... college. She excelled. Competitive, she thrived in the classroom, tried every sport, shrank from no challenge... including medical school.
A high paid vocation as an accomplished surgeon, events... accomplishments... even the loftiest goals brought attainment... every objective achieved with success... except one.
At what seemed to be the pinnacle of her life, Dr. Audrey Meredith Darrows failed to marry.
A joint announcement issued by a seemingly prototypical couple, ended the planned betrothal... graciously... but unexplainedly.
Thereafter life changed for Dr. Audrey Meredith Darrows. For the better?
Months after the wedding cancellation, a wealthy relative died, a great aunt. Skipping over, ignoring other estranged relatives, word of Dr. Audrey Meredith Darrows’ enviable success in life engendering appeal, there was fostered the gravitational pull of success and money, bestowing a massive inheritance on Dr. Darrows.
What to do?
Love life shattered, a singular failure with cause left to speculation, attention to the rigors of precision surgery waned. Uninspired, curing the ills of the world no longer brought satisfaction.
Dressing one morning, Dr. Audrey Meredith Darrows looked in the mirror. Noted were youth remaining, athletic shapeliness yielding to neither time nor gravity, and a nearby cell phone. The latter empowered, used to cancel first the morning appointments... then the day’s appointments... then life’s appointments. She quit. Self emancipation ensued.
Yes, it dawned... wealthy... knowledgeable... alluring... yet jaded and unhappy. She changed her existence.
Dr. Audrey Meredith Darrows retired from the medical profession, her life to become transformed, more deeds inexplicable.
******************************************************************************
“What are you doing to me, you bitch!” the voice loud, aggressive, boisterous.
“Tsk, tsk, Gregory. You’ll wear out your vocal cords, and with little result. Being hooded, you did not notice where you’ve been taken. And that you’ll not fully ascertain until I... until you’re made ready.
“But you’re in my barn... on a very secluded farm. It’s more than a mile over the hill to the main road. In the other direction there is another mile or two of my land, then a forest preserve owned by the State of West Virginia, with even fewer people, thicker trees and less accessible terrain. So it is unlikely any one but us will hear you... hear your protestations. And I think you’ll soon learn such have little effect.”
As Dr. Darrows speaks, she prepares various implements on a steel tray.
“I need to lie down!” come more words too loud, the well secured figure standing bent at the waist.
“And you shall... when I decide. It’s a paradigm to which you will need to become accustomed. It is best for you. Here I govern.”
“What is this, a dungeon?” young Gregory rolling about his eyes, his neck and wrists encased in thick wooden planks, holding his head immobile.
“You’re held in one of many stalls in my barn, converted... less now a shelter for equine and bovine creatures than for other... beasts.”
A left hand, gloved in the latex of the surgeon she once was, reaches forth to locks of hair long askew, the fingers entwining.
“Do try not to move. Overall, this can offer little aggravation if you don’t resist.”
“What is it? What are you doing?”
“So loud...” comes an unresponsive reply as the right hand approaches.
Into the right nostril there is introduced a soft flexible rubber tube. Fingers dextrously push, within seconds meeting the resistance of the sinus cavity.
“No!”
The utterance, more of shock and denial than protest, brings a smile. Neck and wrists firmly encased between two thick, smooth well worn planks, the reference to a dungeon is appropriate, the good doctor having acquired ancient yet effective stocks.
There comes the dawning of reality... Dr. Audrey Meredith Darrows can do whatever she pleases... and the deafening shouts will not deafen the deaf... the aloof... the callous.
Both Gregory and the doctor sense the slight pop as the right nostril yields and the tube enters the sinus cavity. It brings a grimace from the bound, and realization for Dr. Darrows.
“Now it is best to hold still. I can be quick and relatively painless for good boys.”
The left hand releases and quickly moves to the tray. Forceps, rubber coated, glistening with lubricant, such are introduced to the left nostril, bringing forth a nasal groan. But also a notable display of skill, as the prongs also enter the sinus cavity and quickly snare the end of the tube within.
“Arrrrghhhh,” comes the expected reaction as the forceps retreat, drawing the tube down the left nostril.
“You’re a good boy. And good boys get to lie down. Just as soon as the polymers and adhesive cure and dry,” the words cooed... a mother reassuring a distraught child.
As she speaks the hands and fingers rapidly work, snipping the tube to shorten and form an upside down ‘U’, the ends dangling at the lips. The point of a large syringe invaginates one end, the plunger pressed to introduce the aforementioned polymers into the tube. Smoothly, with a surgeon’s speed and precision, the tube fills, within seconds a small dollop of the substance exiting the opposing end.
The syringe returns to the tray and a small perfectly sized cylinder of solid rubber is inserted to connect the loose ends. Then the fingers work with a powerful dental adhesive to assure the ends of the tube bond to form an ellipse which penetrates the sinuses.
The doctor smiles, her professional look of complacency bringing curious calm as her fingers hold together the tube ends. The formulation of the polymers will somewhat harden the loop, and make it quite durable to stress... a very important attribute. She finds that Gregory’s naivety amuses, for he will soon learn of the gravity of his nasal modification. When cured and dried, he will find that the amazing compound, filling the otherwise smooth and soft tube, transforms it to the equivalent of a ring of hardened steel, its tensile strength noteworthy.
“Why are you doing this?” the voice now more beseeching than provocative.
“Because I can.”
The fingers continue to hold together the tube ends as a large woman of color momentarily steps within view.
“This one likes to expose himself, Vocinda. Strip him down, begin the depilation. If he’s good, lower the stocks and let him lie down for a while. I suspect he spent the night cuffed to the bars of his cell in a standing position,” amused in knowing that he was made to do so under her orders.
Compounds dried, the gloved left hand tousles the hair then the doctor steps out of sight. Gregory’s peripheral vision, the large planks impeding, limits his view of the woman accepting the instructions. But he does feel her hands and hears the tearing of clothing.
Well tethered wrists, ankles cuffed as well, will not inhibit the removal of his clothing... all his clothing. Every garment is ripped, shredded actually, the large woman seeming to handle boys with energetic glee.
Yes, once again he is stripped naked... to be exposed.
For what purpose?
*************************************************************************************
Copyright 2010
By Chris Bellows
“You’re sick!”
“No, I am wealthy. That means the more apt term is that I am eccentric,” the calm voice tending to soothe.
The pithy response is accompanied by a smile and the fondling hand does not pause. The boy attains more inkling as to his circumstances, derogatory words not staying the woman from her unbounded inspection. The cradling of his testicles prompted the expletive, fingers nestling beneath, her thumb smoothing over the top of the scrotum to judge the firmness and general wholesomeness of the male reproductive organs.
“Very nice. A good set of balls,” she casually proclaims, “though they seem to affect diction... and manners.”
The hand moves to the penis and slowly draws the organ straight out. It is a brazen gesture, nothing more than a blatant maneuver to determine length. The smile broadens as the shaft twitches and the hand withdraws. The woman steps back. Her smile fails to diminish in gazing at the well tethered youthful male figure... save for wrist and ankle cuffs his complete nakedness seeming to radiate under the bright lights.
“The charge?”
“Drunk, disorderly, indecent exposure,” the nearby officer solemnly replies as if to a presiding judge.
“Excellent... exposure. Very telling. Well you can take this one off your docket. We’ll once again save the county the cost of trial and incarceration. Do give my regards to her honor.”
The woman hands over an envelope. The officer accepts, no semblance of masking the outright bribe.
“You’ll have him brought to me in the morning, as usual? I’ll leave some restraints and a hood.”
The officer nods. The woman turns to step away.
“What’s this all about, bitch?”
“Well, well, indecent exposure... and an indecent mouth. Do restrain him standing for the night. Tomorrow he’ll be more receptive to lessons of etiquette,” the intonation most ominous.
The officer smiles. The woman notes that despite the rambunctious words her acquisition quakes, her firm instructions finally engendering the gravity of his situation... his vulnerability. The indication of fear brings laughter... demonic laughter.
The boy outright shudders... as he should.
******************************************************************************
Born into a middle class but well educated family, Audrey Meredith Darrows lived many years a normal life... school... boys... athletics... college. She excelled. Competitive, she thrived in the classroom, tried every sport, shrank from no challenge... including medical school.
A high paid vocation as an accomplished surgeon, events... accomplishments... even the loftiest goals brought attainment... every objective achieved with success... except one.
At what seemed to be the pinnacle of her life, Dr. Audrey Meredith Darrows failed to marry.
A joint announcement issued by a seemingly prototypical couple, ended the planned betrothal... graciously... but unexplainedly.
Thereafter life changed for Dr. Audrey Meredith Darrows. For the better?
Months after the wedding cancellation, a wealthy relative died, a great aunt. Skipping over, ignoring other estranged relatives, word of Dr. Audrey Meredith Darrows’ enviable success in life engendering appeal, there was fostered the gravitational pull of success and money, bestowing a massive inheritance on Dr. Darrows.
What to do?
Love life shattered, a singular failure with cause left to speculation, attention to the rigors of precision surgery waned. Uninspired, curing the ills of the world no longer brought satisfaction.
Dressing one morning, Dr. Audrey Meredith Darrows looked in the mirror. Noted were youth remaining, athletic shapeliness yielding to neither time nor gravity, and a nearby cell phone. The latter empowered, used to cancel first the morning appointments... then the day’s appointments... then life’s appointments. She quit. Self emancipation ensued.
Yes, it dawned... wealthy... knowledgeable... alluring... yet jaded and unhappy. She changed her existence.
Dr. Audrey Meredith Darrows retired from the medical profession, her life to become transformed, more deeds inexplicable.
******************************************************************************
“What are you doing to me, you bitch!” the voice loud, aggressive, boisterous.
“Tsk, tsk, Gregory. You’ll wear out your vocal cords, and with little result. Being hooded, you did not notice where you’ve been taken. And that you’ll not fully ascertain until I... until you’re made ready.
“But you’re in my barn... on a very secluded farm. It’s more than a mile over the hill to the main road. In the other direction there is another mile or two of my land, then a forest preserve owned by the State of West Virginia, with even fewer people, thicker trees and less accessible terrain. So it is unlikely any one but us will hear you... hear your protestations. And I think you’ll soon learn such have little effect.”
As Dr. Darrows speaks, she prepares various implements on a steel tray.
“I need to lie down!” come more words too loud, the well secured figure standing bent at the waist.
“And you shall... when I decide. It’s a paradigm to which you will need to become accustomed. It is best for you. Here I govern.”
“What is this, a dungeon?” young Gregory rolling about his eyes, his neck and wrists encased in thick wooden planks, holding his head immobile.
“You’re held in one of many stalls in my barn, converted... less now a shelter for equine and bovine creatures than for other... beasts.”
A left hand, gloved in the latex of the surgeon she once was, reaches forth to locks of hair long askew, the fingers entwining.
“Do try not to move. Overall, this can offer little aggravation if you don’t resist.”
“What is it? What are you doing?”
“So loud...” comes an unresponsive reply as the right hand approaches.
Into the right nostril there is introduced a soft flexible rubber tube. Fingers dextrously push, within seconds meeting the resistance of the sinus cavity.
“No!”
The utterance, more of shock and denial than protest, brings a smile. Neck and wrists firmly encased between two thick, smooth well worn planks, the reference to a dungeon is appropriate, the good doctor having acquired ancient yet effective stocks.
There comes the dawning of reality... Dr. Audrey Meredith Darrows can do whatever she pleases... and the deafening shouts will not deafen the deaf... the aloof... the callous.
Both Gregory and the doctor sense the slight pop as the right nostril yields and the tube enters the sinus cavity. It brings a grimace from the bound, and realization for Dr. Darrows.
“Now it is best to hold still. I can be quick and relatively painless for good boys.”
The left hand releases and quickly moves to the tray. Forceps, rubber coated, glistening with lubricant, such are introduced to the left nostril, bringing forth a nasal groan. But also a notable display of skill, as the prongs also enter the sinus cavity and quickly snare the end of the tube within.
“Arrrrghhhh,” comes the expected reaction as the forceps retreat, drawing the tube down the left nostril.
“You’re a good boy. And good boys get to lie down. Just as soon as the polymers and adhesive cure and dry,” the words cooed... a mother reassuring a distraught child.
As she speaks the hands and fingers rapidly work, snipping the tube to shorten and form an upside down ‘U’, the ends dangling at the lips. The point of a large syringe invaginates one end, the plunger pressed to introduce the aforementioned polymers into the tube. Smoothly, with a surgeon’s speed and precision, the tube fills, within seconds a small dollop of the substance exiting the opposing end.
The syringe returns to the tray and a small perfectly sized cylinder of solid rubber is inserted to connect the loose ends. Then the fingers work with a powerful dental adhesive to assure the ends of the tube bond to form an ellipse which penetrates the sinuses.
The doctor smiles, her professional look of complacency bringing curious calm as her fingers hold together the tube ends. The formulation of the polymers will somewhat harden the loop, and make it quite durable to stress... a very important attribute. She finds that Gregory’s naivety amuses, for he will soon learn of the gravity of his nasal modification. When cured and dried, he will find that the amazing compound, filling the otherwise smooth and soft tube, transforms it to the equivalent of a ring of hardened steel, its tensile strength noteworthy.
“Why are you doing this?” the voice now more beseeching than provocative.
“Because I can.”
The fingers continue to hold together the tube ends as a large woman of color momentarily steps within view.
“This one likes to expose himself, Vocinda. Strip him down, begin the depilation. If he’s good, lower the stocks and let him lie down for a while. I suspect he spent the night cuffed to the bars of his cell in a standing position,” amused in knowing that he was made to do so under her orders.
Compounds dried, the gloved left hand tousles the hair then the doctor steps out of sight. Gregory’s peripheral vision, the large planks impeding, limits his view of the woman accepting the instructions. But he does feel her hands and hears the tearing of clothing.
Well tethered wrists, ankles cuffed as well, will not inhibit the removal of his clothing... all his clothing. Every garment is ripped, shredded actually, the large woman seeming to handle boys with energetic glee.
Yes, once again he is stripped naked... to be exposed.
For what purpose?
Saturday, July 3, 2010
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