Final Chapter

Number twenty seven is the final chapter, I should note. There will be epilogues from Brandy and Tony.

I can't remember where I came up with the name 'Chessu' for the Chinese province. A Google search seems to indicate the term is indigenous to Europe.

Overall, this was a relatively early effort (summer of 2002) and I find the writing style aloof, scenes and much character interaction not well developed, too swiftly moving from what could be much more provocatively presented senarios.

Offered this (the various D/s elements) as clay to be molded, I think today it would result in a work the size of the Collosus of Rhodes rather than a mantle piece for the living room, if I had time to finish it.

Perhaps we should take JHoltgym to Chessu...

Chapter Twenty Seven

Part Two

Brandy’s Story

Chapter Twenty Seven

Madam was thrilled to hear of our acquisitions. She cut short a business trip and returned to the ranch.

Part of her inspection of the twins involved having Erma simultaneously masturbate them. It was quite the sordid scene..., but deemed necessary by the normally austere Asian, for she was curious as to their stage of sexual development.

I decided that if it had to be done we include the procedure as part of dinner entertainment. So at the end of the second day of their arrival, after a fine meal, the table was cleared. Erma pushed her chair away from the table and sat with a dildo strapped to each thigh. Johnnie led in the twins and they soon straddled Erma’s legs and slowly sat, their little rectums giving way as Erma’s huge hands guided them downward.

Never having been penetrated before both boys became erect with delicious looks of discomfort and humiliation. Madam watched with an exacting eye as Erma toyed to bring them to full erection.

Pat and I also watched and I was reminded of very early days when Tony ran about Mom’s pool, strangely proud of his standing manhood yet embarrassed about having to show it to a commanding woman.

Well..., Erma showed great dexterity in pumping away with both left hand and right and though the boys squirmed with that unique combination of pleasure and humiliation so reluctantly exhibited by the subjugated male, over time their legs and hips pumped along in cadence with Erma’s strokes.
Pat laughed with Erma’s announcement of their progression, her knowing feel determining exactly where each boy was in the frustrating march toward the dry orgasm of youth. When Boy number One on the right closed his eyes and bucked, seeming to pump himself to climax, Madam was thrilled that there was no detectable spermatic fluid. Erma continued frigging firmly with her left and Boy number Two followed with the same reaction.

“Excellent,” declared Madam. “I want them cut this weekend. Meanwhile they’ll wear genital clamps. By Saturday they’ll be very glad to meet your mother, Brandy.”

Negotiations for the twins was short. The following day the Madam offered $200,000 and I accepted. With her lucrativeness, I graciously threw in Mom’s fee. It was not an overly generous discount. Castrations are surprisingly quick and simple.

For three days, Derek and Erik, as we came to call them, ran about with the most pitiful looks of agony as Madam insisted their little gonads be constantly clamped in the diabolically clever vise like contraptions.

“Many may think it cruel,” commented the Madam. “But your Mom’s steady hand and sharp scalpel would be considered most humane in Chessu. There a castration takes days. The boys run about with thin wire wrapped about the testicle..., each day tightened until the ducts and vessels are crushed. It’s slow. It’s painful. It’s traditional..., the dominant woman’s way of introducing the subservient male to a lifetime of groveling and submission. Most times only one teste is taken..., only to be followed days later by the second..., after much pleading to be left intact. As a friend once commented..., it’s too bad the male anatomy does not provide more than one pair to be reaped.”

Meanwhile, Derek and Erik began fellatio training and I must say that forcing a normally heterosexual male to engage in homoerotic activity is the epitome of power. Failure to comply earned a twist of the clamp..., the adjustable vise threaded so as to enable the supervising female to increase the pressure ever so slightly.

And I could not resist having the two work their tongues on Tony. Obviously his infibulating wire precluded full erection, but with the slightest of twists on the clamps, Derek and Erik’s tongues fluttered away just the same and I cannot describe the feeling of vitality knowing that three sets of genitals suffered under my controlling hand.

But other than the joy of introducing the twins to the world of Feminine dominion, I found that ‘Gladys’s’ oral service gave me much to contemplate. Tony’s efforts were fervent but seemed mechanical, lacking the tenderness and true enjoyment that Gladys seemed to show. The neutered lad had genuine affection for not only the female genitalia but also a passion for stirring passion. My arousal seemed to be his. He felt my orgasm and assiduously worked for more. He seemed to find breathing to be necessary but inconvenient. When he worked with his face deeply planted between my buttocks, pausing for air was an unwanted distraction.

Plus he seemed to have a strange affinity for me..., the woman who commanded that he be altered. It was as if by serving me he could some how regain what I had taken away.

Dr. Ann’s assessment was correct as usual..., that having the male alert during the altering procedure and forcing him to watch the Dominant female forever change his life produced a wonderful degree of submission. It was like turning a boy into a permanent puppy. Given the opportunity I think Gladys would have followed me about the ranch, tail wagging and waiting for me to snap my fingers and point to where I most desired to feel his tongue.

Yes, with Gladys, Mom opened his sac but let me cut the nerves and ducts. It was intoxicatingly heady but curiously simple..., and so permanent. Gladys’s look of helplessness was priceless

Did Gladys think he could earn back his gonads? That after extensive cunnilingus I would reach into a draw and hand him the jar containing what was so quickly and easily snipped and slipped away?

My thoughts kept comparing Gladys and Tony. I had enjoyed watching my dark skinned companion develop as a teen. But found myself jaded. As stated, I had not bothered to remove the infibulating wire in months. Nurse Annika had been removing it weekly for cleansing but did not really let him tumefy..., instead swatting him down and quickly replacing the wire when her task was completed.

It was time for a transition. When Madam Soong mentioned the castration procedure employed in Chessu, it triggered more thought. I planned a change.

When Saturday came, Derek and Erik were grateful to have the genital clamps removed. The constant ache kept them awake and I believe given the ability to speak English they would have begged for the relief provided by the skilled hands of a castratrix.

Madam had them circumcised for good measure and by mid day, the two cute blonds had no doubt as to who was in charge. The usually dour Asian woman watched Mom cut and snip with noticeable glee.

They’d forever be young, I realized. Two blond and blue eyed 'Peter Pans' whose only function in life would be pleasure..., for others..., to provide joy for the Dominant female..., and of course assist in the harvesting of the Emperor’s sperm.

Even at their age the alteration had a curious alleviating effect. Relieved of the burden of maleness the twins no longer needed to be gloved. Madam trained them using the masturbator, teaching them how to hose down and wash the ‘beast’ after a long morning of pulling the ox cart. Explaining how the neutered male should treat the less fortunate..., one whose desire could never be fulfilled. And I delighted in watching the masturbator’s stub stiffen under the soft hands of the two effeminate boys. Madam also liked to watch and began to have Derek and Erik apply their tongues to the hormone laden ox, lapping away at his growing scrotum.

It was indeed an exquisite Chinese torture. The masturbator’s testicles kept his hormones flourishing and despite his homophobia, the boys had his full inch of remaining penis standing. His sheepish look so punctuated the ignominy of being so used and exhibited.

Madam stood by with the whip smiling.

“Shall I oblige your needs?”

I was shocked when the masturbator on more than one occasion nodded. But I realized it was the only relief he could obtain. She whipped him until the stub softened. It required many strokes.

Derek and Erik were a smash at the beauty parlor. The girls there were accustomed to working on Tony and Johnnie. So prettying altered males seemed to be second nature. Madam paid heavily for electrolysis insisting on the permanency of the removal.

Within weeks, Madam deemed the masturbator prepared for his new role of laboring under the whips of the women of Chessu. The twins needed more specific training in their new role in the palace. Therefore a plane was chartered and a secluded air strip in the desert, normally used as a site to mothball old aircraft, welcomed the sleekest of intercontinental private jets.

The masturbator, Derek and Erik departed. I would never see them again..., unless my fantasized trip to Chessu materialized. Madam accompanied her treasure of young male flesh. But she would return, having eyed two recent additions to my herd who were constantly resisting Erma’s efforts.

But certain visions of the blond Peter Pans will never leave my memory..., one of which I photographed by chance. I had it enlarged for the wall in my office. It is of the handsome Madam, wearing her black latex halter while riding atop the white stallion. The slim and tight garment reveals her bare, trim athletic thighs and the muscling about her hips. It would be a most provocative photo just with her alone. But riding on the saddle in front of her was one of the twins, either Derek or Erik, naked of course. The Madam had the boy impaled on a dildo which normally served to stimulate Jackie and the other girls. With the cantering of the horse and the pressure on his prostate, the newly altered boy was erect. The photo caught Madam looking over the boy’s shoulder at the small standing phallus..., her gloved right hand diddled the recently circumcised penis tip. She was speaking to the lad and I imagined her words to be most taunting.

“Enjoy your erection. It’s your last.”

Chapter Twenty Six

Part Two

Brandy’s Story

Chapter Twenty Six

Boys heal so fast in the growth years. Within a week Hector was crawling about again, making the most comical guttural sounds, his inability to speak requiring days of acclimation. But his tearful looks of frustration were worth the effort and with his hands rendered unusable for most human functions, his dog bowl training was most convenient in providing him with the ability to eat and drink.

The masturbator’s penis, what remained, was revealed for general display after a week. Mom had been careful to leave him with a wondrous little stub, nicely rounded with limited scar tissue. Even with minimal work on the erectile chambers it still seemed to engorge, particularly when Madam worked him with a whip.

“Those testicles will keep him randy for the rest of his life,” commented the Madam. “He’ll come to realize that flagellation is the only relief, and will learn to beg for it.”

He pulled the ox cart daily, with Madam supervising the addition of weight in the form of large rocks to add to his burden. Sometimes she rode along on the stallion bearing a long single tail to encourage his efforts. Other times she walked with him, leaning to speak into his ear and softly offering encouragement while he labored in the hot desert sun. She utilized the small penis whip to flog his well exposed testicles, forced to display themselves to her hand by way of the special leather sling.

I noticed that those were the instances when his stub seemed to stand most prominently..., if that’s the proper adverb. With her proximity..., and when her wrist flicked..., and the thin strand of leather nipped his scrotum..., that’s when the curious nub attempted to show itself for her.

How amusing!

The Judge took more than a few days to get back to me. Meanwhile Madam came and went, sometimes leaving for several days to tend to other business. In her absence Dolly was trained to monitor the masturbator’s exercise. That kept the astute canine quite busy in the morning, first running the herd and than walking along with the ox cart while the masturbator worked himself into a good sweat.

My visiting clients enjoyed the sight of a well worked naked boy. On one occasion Jackie propped herself in the back of the cart with the rocks and had great fun guiding the reins and applying the whip, though I feared for what remained of the masturbator’s organs.

Finally, a call came through and it was suggested that Pat pick up the Judge in the limousine.

“He asked me to specify that he has special cargo,” the Judge’s secretary mysteriously suggested.

Pat sped off and hours later returned. The Judge somehow had met the Madam’s criteria. Two blonds boys, identical twins, were tucked away naked in the back of the limousine. Pat had taken several pair of single gloves with her, not sure of the required sizes. So with their arms encased behind their backs in soft but firm leather, the boys followed the Judge out of the back of the car. They appeared to fit right into the ranch’s genre.

“They some how got lost in the Los Angeles airport,” the Judge explained briefly. “And it seems they were acting as mules for parents who smuggled drugs. So no one has stepped forward and claimed to be related to them..., which can be expected since they’d immediately be arrested.”

Ingenious! Not only was there no one attempting to look for the two cute blonds, but even if located, the parents would undoubtedly deny any relationship, lest they face prison time.

“So legally these two are aliens with no status. Their rights are quite limited. They seem to be from Norway or Sweden. Maybe even Iceland. I took them out of the holding cell before any one of authority could learn anything.”

Erma immediately took charge of the tykes while a salivating Judge inquired as to the whereabouts of Johnnie.

I had informed Erma of the Judge’s visit. And as expected our belted hermaphrodite was prettied up as if about to attend a high school prom. When he stepped onto the porch, there developed a definite bulge in the Judge’s trousers. They immediately went off to one of the guest rooms. I sent Tony to the room also and with the realization that he would be kept busy for most of the day, I headed for the dormer. I would not describe the source of my needs as nymphomania, but with all the delicious action at the ranch, I certainly needed some form of gratification from time to time.

So for the first time in many days I strolled down the hallway of the dormer peering through the one way glass. My boys were in the quiet period, having been well exercised earlier, finished with the day’s tongue training and therefore trussed up and hooded.

As Erma described the long and boring afternoons... “it gives them pause for thought”. And Dr. Ann assured me that their thoughts were all focused on serving the dominant female.

I selected a boy we had come to call ‘Gladys’, a humorous reference to the fact that Mom had weeks before opened up his scrotum and slipped out his testes. Thus, the neutered lad was experiencing physical changes he didn’t quite understand. I had taken to observe his sessions with Dr. Ann and many times had to stifle my laughter as he was encouraged to masturbate. After weeks of forced chastity, his looks of dejection when the expected ecstasy could not be achieved were priceless.

“What’s the matter, Gladys?” chided Dr. Ann. “I thought boys your age enjoyed performing such nasty deeds. I’d like to see it spit that goo. Don’t you enjoy showing off for a woman?”

And with each ‘counseling’ session, Gladys’s manhood was more and more reluctant to stand, the testosterone slowly but steadily ebbing from his system without being replaced. He was divinely embarrassed.

“But your tongue works well, Gladys. Many women enjoy that in a boy. I think you’re the type who likes to serve women..., is that right?”

With the hormone change of his operation, the carefully chosen words during Dr. Ann’s sessions became imprinted on his malleable mind. Erma was happy with his progress and the increasing fatigue demonstrated during morning runs was expected. And Dolly was amusingly confused, a healthy set of eggs being her favorite target for the encouragement of proper behavior among her jogging charges. The canine noticed the absence of the plump pink organs and after a week she effectively learned to nip his dangling appendage when needed.

Gladys was lying in his tiny room naked and hooded with ankles secured by a spreader bar. Erma did that with the recent castrates to highlight their empty scrotums for viewing clients. The effect was most humiliating for the boy..., forced to display for all to see what a woman had taken from him. And indeed the empty puff of flesh below a limp penis was plainly viewed. Mom cleverly slipped the gonads out small incisions at the sides of the sac where it met the pubes. Thus, though only neutered two months before, there were no scars detectable.

I moved on to the wash room. Erma had the twins standing naked in the huge tub, both inspecting and washing the soft flesh. Her dark hand highlighted the whiteness of their Scandinavian skin.

“They speak very little English and there is no way to definitely determine their age, but they’re quite responsive to my touch.”

Indeed. To amuse herself during the ablutions, Erma had both boys standing. Little uncircumcised penises pointing skyward as the boys sheepishly stood, obediently keeping their hands on their heads as Erma’s hands explored everywhere. Pink buttocks evidenced Erma’s firm handiwork in beginning what would be many weeks of discipline. Proper techniques for correction of the male transcend the language barrier, I thought to myself.

Then I peered below at what Madam would soon have harvested for her collection. Small and hairless, my mind envisioned the genderless boys effeminately coiffed and with makeup, led about on the end of the Empress’s leash, with the underdeveloped penises well displayed, trapped in time by simple flicks of Mom’s scalpel.

“Erma, I’ll want Gladys by the pool. I’m taking the afternoon off.”

The tall black woman smiled and nodded, fully understanding my needs.

So while the Judge reaped his reward I changed..., stripped actually..., donned a robe and headed for the pool. I had many calls to make, one of which was to Madam, informing her of our find.

Soon after being ensconced in a comfortable lounge chair, shaded by a sizable umbrella, Erma arrived with Gladys. I thought his eyes would make his head explode as he viewed my nakedness. And as I spoke on the phone a warm and comfortable feeling came over me, knowing that even as my modeling career faded I could still draw attention from the opposite gender, if that appropriately described our recently altered boy.

I spread my legs and pointed. Gladys knelt and worked his tongue up my thigh and I found myself giggling during an important phone conversation when the most sensuous of tongues began lapping away. He was good.

I completed my conversation and put the phone down, repositioning myself to provide Gladys with better access. I was surprised when he energetically renewed his efforts. I had a small orgasm and stared motionless at the cloudless California horizon as our neutered boy attentively serviced my sex as if it was his own.

I began to understand the benefits of his alteration. Not being able to experience his own pleasure, he savored mine. The paucity of male hormones provided Gladys with a sensitivity that I had rarely felt from a male and though Tony had years and years of training and coveted my organs more than I did myself..., there was a difference.

Gladys was sublime..., and his training was just beginning!

I let the orgasms roll. Wave after wave. He was tireless and lapped up everything as if dying of thirst. I thought he would swallow my clitoris and I could not help crying out in ecstasy when he simultaneously sucked and swirled his tongue.

Strange, why after months at the ranch I had not before fully understood the incongruity..., that the little jewels Gladys was forced to give up made such a difference in his outlook.., his perception.., his psyche..., his underlying belief in his role in life.

Gladys was born to serve. It took a couple of snips for him to better understand his own purpose for being.

My thighs having squeezed his head in a dozen climaxes, both small and large, I rolled over and grabbed the phone. I was heartened to again feel Gladys’ tongue. Without suggestion, hint or command he serviced my backside without hesitation.

It seemed to be the right moment to call Madam. As I announced to our most dedicated Asian client the arrival of the blond twins, the most sensuous of tongues slithered where most boys find reluctance.

I was in heaven. As I spoke with the accomplished whipmistress, my mind began to juxtapose the cunnilingus of the neophyte Gladys versus that of my life long servant. I wondered if Tony would ever know what a bad day he was having.

Chapter Twenty Five

Part Two

Brandy’s Story

Chapter Twenty Five

Tony enjoyed mornings. I permitted him to shower with me and invariably he spent most of shower time on his knees carefully swabbing a soft and soapy cloth over those areas he had so attentively serviced with his tongue the evening before.

And when finished, he was permitted the same privilege with Pat. His infibulating wire was thoroughly tested once again.

Johnnie had coffee waiting in my office where calls to and from the east coast and Europe began early in the day. Madam had also arisen early and I spied her sitting upon the white stallion. I wondered whether she utilized the special attachment on the front of the saddle as did most of the other guests.

About an hour into the work day my curiosity was piqued when a van lumbered to the front gate. The drive from the main road was close to a half mile on scrabble, deliberately kept rough and uneven to deter unwanted visitors casually stumbling upon our singularly licentious operation. So I watched the activity from my office.

The Madam guided her horse to the front yard and addressed Pat as she exited the front door to investigate. Yes, I had forgotten Madam’s offer of equipment. Pat clicked the remote control to open the gate. Two men lowered the tail gate of the truck. Cartons were unloaded with Madam talking and pointing, instructing the men to leave the cargo in the front yard. Lastly both men momentarily disappeared into the rear of the truck then rolled a heavy vehicle down the ramp. It was an ox cart! Thick boards formed a box resting atop a pair of crude wooden wheels. Two shafts emanated from the front, too close together to hitch an ox.

Pat looked at her watch and hurriedly signed papers. Dolly would soon be running our herd of naked boys. She dispatched the deliverymen to the barks of our eager sheep dog working behind the house to assemble my growing herd of smooth rounded buttocks and hairless genitals flopping about with every step. Madam spurred the stallion and cantered to the rear door. She returned within minutes with Erma and the masturbator in tow, his striped buttocks in surprisingly good condition in view of Madam’s thorough flogging.

Erma opened the cartons. Inside were leather straps and harnesses and the masturbator found himself being adorned with a heavy leather waist belt and rudimentary bridle. Within minutes our masturbator was standing between the shafts of the cart. Madam gave instructions pointing with a hand wielding a whip and was very particular concerning a curious length of leather which she had Erma attach to the back of the waist belt. It was a type of sling and as Erma had the masturbator lean well over, she gripped his scrotum, tucked his gonads through a slit in the leather and then drew up the free end to attach to the waist belt. Madam pointed and spoke, her words evidently directing Erma to tighten the ends where the sling was secured to the waist belt just over the middle of each buttock. As she cinched, our masturbator winced and the utility of the restraint became apparent. Two pink testicles came into view just below the anus, pulled back between the boy’s buttocks and providing the supervising female with not only an amusing view of his exposed and vulnerable eggs, but easy access should some form of correction be required.

Madam demonstrated the assailability to Pat and Erma by reaching out with her whip hand and caressing the sensitive pink pouch with the end of the whip. So nicely presented within the leather, the Masturbator jumped, realizing the vulnerability of his gonads. His reaction brought laughter from the three women.

Erma lifted the shafts and attached each, left and right, to clasps on the waist belt at the boy’s hips. Reins were clipped unto the bridle and handed to Madam. She spurred the horse to move to the front then flicked the whip, cracking the strand of leather incredibly close to the masturbator’s penis. He lurched in shock. When Madam turned the horse to saunter toward one of the numerous bridle paths, she tugged on the reins. The masturbator dug in and began to pull the heavy cart with alacrity. He had experienced enough of the Asian woman’s whip. Though straining, he became most obedient in following the commanding tugs of a woman.

Pat and Erma watched with a smile and I too felt sanguine seeing the boy put to good use. Just as I had fallen asleep the evening before, I again envisioned life in Chessu. The heavy ox cart was so gothic and the masturbator looked so deliciously subservient trussed in leather with muscles endeavoring to avoid more snaps of Madam’s whip. I imagined fields being ploughed with teams of naked males being whipped unmercifully under the hot sun..., other boys hauling carts similar to the masturbator’s but even heavier in being laden with food..., still others tethered to dog carts transporting young women with whip wielding hands.

Though early in the day I summoned Tony and had him kneel under my desk.

Erma left the front yard to exercise Hector. He no longer ran with the other boys. Instead Erma walked him about on all fours while tapping away at his dangling testicles to ensure proper canine deportment. She had great fun making him turn up one knee in order to urinate on the few bushes at the arid ranch. He was most careful doing so around the cacti.

Pat entered the office and we talked about the need to find blond twins boys of a suitable age for Madam.

“The Judge will sign anything,” Pat reminded me. “Requesting a favor of him may require further stretching of Johnnie’s rectum, but I’m sure Erma won’t mind if we arrange a special weekend for the old reprobate. I bet Dr. Ann is not the only psychologist for whom he signs papers.”

I had not before considered that aspect. As productive as Ann was in locating candidates, the Judge had connections at many more institutions and his motivations and needs were easily understood and accommodated.

With Tony licking away under my desk, another thought crossed my mind.

“Yes, Pat. We can throw Tony in with the deal. Just hope the old guy doesn’t have a heart attack.”

We laughed at the notion of the noted jurist dying in such a compromising yet rapturous manner, two feminized teens serving his every whim.

I picked up the phone. Despite his busy schedule, the Judge always accepted my calls. In my experience, prurience trumped civic duty on every occasion.

He chuckled when I described my needs.

“So you’re going to have Mom slice ‘em young,” his voice rising with exuberance. “I’m sure there are some juvenile offenders that fit the description. If not I’ll just create some. The rules of evidence are rather lax in family court. I can put ‘em in a home until they reach their majority for something as simple as the alleged shoplifting of a candy bar..., and I have.”

The Judge laughed, enjoying visions of his own power. His abuse of authority was diabolically unfair and I smiled at my end of the phone line. Then I cooed to him in my sultriest voice..., describing the things that Johnnie and Tony would do when the Judge next visited The Anguished E with blond twins in tow. His end of the line went silent for a moment and though I could not detect the sound of a zipper, I could well imagine the response of his fingers.

“Give me a few days.”

I bid adieu and hung up. The phone immediately rang. It was Mother.

“I was talking to Ann and we both agree Hector is ready for the next stage. I’m going to begin some alterations on Saturday so tell Jackie he won’t be unavailable for the day and will be a little sore on Sunday.”

Mom described the envisioned procedures. Hector would have his vocal cords sutured and, in what Mom described as an experiment, his fingers and thumbs would likewise be surgically rendered useless, carefully opening up the epidermis with a scalpel and meticulously sewing the digits together. As the openings healed, his hands would become webbed.

I suppose afterwards there would be some way for a naughty Hector to stroke himself, but if so, it would be very amusing to watch.

After more paper work, Madam Soong entered. She appeared most invigorated by her morning ride with the masturbator in tow, laboring in harness.

“He’s perfect, Brandy. Needs to develop some muscling before sending him off to Chessu, otherwise the girls there will completely excoriate his flesh before he has a chance to strengthen.

“Let’s make it short. Shall we say $50,000 plus your Mom’s penectomy fee and regular charges for room and board while he’s exercised and trained for the ox cart?”

How could I say ‘No’?

Mom had a busy Saturday, shortening the masturbator, for sure the former masturbator, down to the one inch stub marked on the shaft by our regal guest. Through experience the Madam knew to leave just enough so he would not require diapering, such covering being deemed unsightly in a province where male covering consisted mainly of restraining leather straps and harnesses. The masturbator watched in horror and I often wondered whether the reaction was due to the actual loss of the appendage or the humiliation of having it done by a woman at another woman’s behest.

Hector’s vocal cords were quickly tied off but much time was taken to meticulously suture together his fingers with his thumb sewn across the palm to completely preclude his ability to grip forbidden objects..., such as his penis.

Some thoughts

First, to Wistan, I just picked up your comment to the September 10 posting and responded.

Second, yesterday I received the hard copies of my latest Pink Flamingo effort, 'The Conquerable' and began to reread. Despite having finished and submitted it for publication in late June, I could not recall the ending of my own story. Conclusion... I have written alot... plus age brings frailty to the memory.

Someday I will find the inspiration to write pulp... in the industry 'chic lit' sells well. (Yes, women still read!) So, can I bring myself to write something mainstream? Just tone down the sexual peccadilloes... just a little?

Probably not. Plus my ability to write dialogue is deficient and needs to be improved. I couldn't even begin to write a tawdry vanilla love conversation. Could never develop dialogue like 'Frankly Scarlet, I don't give a damn!' So, I am stuck until another plot dawns.

JHoltgym is suggesting more Madam Soong and a return to Chessu, a place my normally hyperactive kinky imagination has not visited in many years. But alas restocking the ammo supply of quality smut is becoming difficult...

But I will again reread the portions of 'The Anguished E' involving this nasty woman (JHoltgym's succubus) and maybe something will develop (fester?).

Chapter Twenty Four

Part Two

Brandy’s Story

Chapter Twenty Four

Pat sodomized Tony well into the night while I benefitted from a tongue with unsurpassed strength, stamina and skill. Pat’s harness not only held in place the hideously large dildo penetrating Tony’s stretched sphincter, but mounted beneath were clever rubber objects designed to ensure that Pat enjoyed every firm thrust of her hips.

Yes, each lunge not only produced a luscious grimace of pain from Tony but also caused a clever spindle to caress Pat’s clitoris and a larger custom designed phallus to friction her vagina. So she had great incentive to provide Tony with a thorough reaming, completely ignoring his pleas as his end of the dildo pressured his prostate and resulted in unwanted tumescence. And of course being in the presence of two beautiful unclothed women also served to spur arousal, not to mention that his face was deeply buried between my thighs.

I also enjoyed watching my athletic companion work her muscles to produce such delightful results, pain for Tony, pleasure for herself and marvelous tongue work for me.

After two dozen thrusts, Tony’s anguish overwhelmed him. He could not concentrate on serving my sex while his turgid manhood pressed against the thin infibulating wire. So it was not pity that caused me to suggest Pat stop for the ice, it was the need to continue the satisfaction of my own lust.

“I guess it’s time, Pat. He’s blubbering more than licking.”

Pat pulled back and I was always amazed to watch the huge length of rubber slowly withdraw. The special bump designed to pressure Tony’s prostate finally exited as his anus wrapped about the shaft as if kissing it.

The wine bucket was not for the Chardonnay. It was for Tony and Pat retrieved it while Tony was again able to concentrate and resume licking. His lips surrounded my clitoral hood and he lurched as Pat placed the cold bucket between his thighs then callously plunked his freed testicles into the icy depths.

“His penis is dripping already,” Pat noted, taking the time to place a towel on the floor and drape the leaking penis tip over the edge of the bucket.

Tony’s organs numbed. Unfortunately the cold would serve to alleviate the exquisite pain he felt while Pat took her pleasure from him and his tongue serviced me. But the procedure was necessary. I had decided to terminate the prostate massage which Annika afforded Tony. It was too pleasurable. So Pat and I milked him in the most ignominious manner, forcing the buildup of semen from his system by sodomizing him once or twice per month. Though in icing him it stemmed the pain, there was also no pleasure. His only joy would be the privilege of servicing me and knowing that his backside was also a source of pleasure for Pat.

Pat introduced the dildo again and plunged it deeply into Tony’s rectum. She resumed as did my journey into bliss.

I enjoyed watching Pat. Over the years I was jaded about looking at the female body of beautiful models. Pat was different. She had great physical power and she used it on subordinate males so well...her muscles rippled and her firm breasts barely moved.

Another dozen or so thrusts and Pat was grunting loudly, working her way to both clitoral and vaginal orgasms. Meanwhile Tony was sucking strongly and circling my own clitoris with his tireless tongue. Knowing Pat was approaching ecstasy brought on my own. We climaxed together laughing like school girls. As trained, Tony remained motionless, barely breathing, until I tapped his head as a signal to withdraw.

Pat also withdrew and we left Tony with his gonads resting in the ice bucket while we casually poured refreshing glasses of wine.

“He takes to the strap on like a cheap whore,” Pat observed with a giggle.

I had to nod in agreement. Had Tony been born a female he would indeed make his living by spreading his legs.

We sipped and I inspected, pulling Tony’s upper torso off the bed while he remained kneeling over the bucket. The towel beneath was a gooey mess. Pat’s efforts had thoroughly emptied Tony of his seed. And most notably, he had not felt a thing.

I drew back Tony’s arms and clipped his elbow bands together, enhancing his feeling of subservience and immobilizing his hands. Though tired, Pat and I would frolic until dawn and I did not wish wandering fingers to distract.

We talked about the vivid display in the correction room and the offer to be made on the masturbator. The glow of our sexual release eventually began to subside and we prepared for bed. Pat pulled Tony from his kneeling position, took him into the bathroom and held his penis while he relieved himself. I had not allowed him to perform that function unsupervised since arriving at the ranch. It was marvelously humiliating to mandate feminine assistance in such a simple intimate function. The first few times Tony could not summon a flow and it resulted in Pat playfully pressing against his bladder while making the sibilant sounds of a young mother encouraging a child to urinate.

Returning to the bedroom, Pat resecured Tony’s testicle chains.

“His scrotum is still stretching,” she noted taking in another loop to maintain proper tension.

She clipped Tony’s ankle bands together, then pushed him over onto the bed. Unable to move arms or legs, he comically toppled like a felled tree, helpless to stop his fall. I positioned him where his mouth and tongue could do the most good while Pat and I snuggled.

When Pat turned off the lights, Tony was humbly paying tribute to my buttocks. I welcomed Pat’s firm body as it slid onto the mattress beside me. Her lips suckled my breasts as Tony moved closer and closer to the rose bud of my rear aperture.

It was a wondrous evening. As I approached somnolence the visions of Madam Soong flogging the masturbator flashed through my mind. Dreams about Chessu cascaded. Slight, leather-booted Asian women wielded long whips. Naked males served and suffered.

I recalled part of the long afternoon conversation with Madam Soong.

“If you can obtain twins, blond and blue eyed, I can assure you that I am authorized to be most extravagant.”

Her narrative of explanation was fascinating. The old Emperor, a mere titular ruler, was a sinecure who was denied contact with females. The Empress, thirty years younger, refused him carnal relations deeming such to be a heretical example to set for the province of dominant women.

“How can I lead if my subjects know I am submitting to the disgusting male penis in the palace bedroom,” Madam quoted her as saying.

And the Empress was certainly not going to allow him the female companionship of a concubine. That would be even more demeaning. And yet his sperm was needed for procreation.

So, a bevy of castrates were trained to collect the regal male essence by offering any aperture of the Emperor’s liking to arouse his prurient interest.

“We alter them young and they stay most effeminate,” the Madam explained. “But still the Empress demands new youth in order to maintain the Emperor’s interest..., thus my request. And controlling identical twins is considered to be a display of potency..., blond and blue eyed as I suggested, such are rarely seen in China. When the Empress parades them outside the palace leashed and naked, her loyal subjects will cheer, fully aware of their nocturnal duties in harvesting sperm.”

Half dreaming, I pictured the elderly Emperor being orally serviced by the young castrates. Naked and restrained by orders of the Empress, the aging phallus of the ruler rises under the passionate licks of boys whose only remaining sexual function is too harvest semen in order to continue the process of procreation. She watches as the Emperor struggles in not wishing to give up sperm in such an unmanly way. But his reluctance is futile. The oddly effeminate hands of the castrated boys caress and knead, trained tongues lick, reddened young lips suck. And to complete the humiliation, when they feel his climax approaching, tongues and lips withdraw and a soft and lubricated hand merely masturbates the ruler’s stiff but withered phallus into a jar. A laughing Empress applauds. Once again the castrates have won the twice weekly contest, extracting what the Emperor so unwilling gives, and in so doing they avoid a firm caning.

As sleep approached I made a mental note to contact Dr. Ann in the morning. Surely such a simple request could be fulfilled.

If Tony’s tongue ever stopped it did so long after I slumbered. My wandering thoughts about the quaint Asian world of male servitude brought wonderful dreams.

Chapter Twenty Three

Part Two

Brandy’s Story

Chapter Twenty Three

Dinner conversation was comprised of small talk. When Johnnie served coffee, Erma knew to arise and move to the dormer where she finally released the masturbator from the slow torment of hours and hours of being hogtied and blindfolded.

“Would you mind if we observed, Madam?”

“Of course not, Brandy. It would be a privilege to have you and Pat join me. I think of it as an exotic dessert after a wonderful meal. I’m sure you feel the same.”

Erma led our staggering masturbator down the stairs to the correction room. Madam Soong rose and as Pat and I followed I once again could not help visually examining her attire, as I had during dinner. She wore a brief sleeveless black latex halter which conformed precisely to her torso, outlining modest but athletically firm breasts. Her waist was encircled by a flowing silk skirt of crimson. She wore boots..., black patent leather. The heels were high and sharp, yet she walked effortlessly, obviously accustomed to what for others would be awkward imbalance.

“Gran Marnier in the correction room Johnnie.”

We descended into the cool depths. Erma had the masturbator lying on his stomach on the padded bench. The broad waist belt was firmly in place. I watched as Madam selected the thinnest of whips while Erma cuffed the ankles to ensure that our night’s entertainment remained kneeling.

“Would you please secure the glove, Erma. Hook it nice and high. It nicely presents the buttocks and genitals.”

Erma complied with Madam’s request and, as the masturbator struggled within his bonds to relieve the stress of having his arms pulled back and up, his testicles dangled enticingly between spread thighs.

The Madam removed her silk skirt. I gawked. The latex of the black halter continued below her waist where it formed the narrowest of ‘V’s’, leaving her hips bare, tapering to small strip over her pubes and thinning to nothing more than a string as it passed between her thighs. Her boots reached just over her knees.., otherwise she wore nothing. She turned to search in a cabinet and revealed her backside. The back of the halter likewise formed a ‘V’, the string running between her cheeks to leave her buttocks uncovered. She had pert rounded hillocks, small but obviously well exercised with an enviable layer of firm flesh.

“You have the perfect salve here. I like to apply it before the flagellation. It makes the whip produce the most frightening sound.”

She turned and caught my gaze.

“In Chessu a good flogging can last for hours,” she offered as explanation. “Comfortable attire is important and you’ll soon see the utility of being sleeveless.”

Again the evil smile appeared, her comments spurred thoughts within about some day perhaps visiting the province.

The trim and athletic Madam casually smoothed the healing solution over the masturbator’s tempting backside. Incredibly, she also coated his scrotum. The masturbator stirred with feminine hands smearing his precious organs with such insouciance. Even with the trepidation he stiffened.

“You’ll thank me later, boy,” the Madam noticing the masturbator’s reaction.

She strolled to his front. With the masturbator’s first sight of the Madam he cowered. Dressed in black latex and leather she resembled a medieval torturess. But he could not help staring at her sex, the tapering partially exposed her labia, a normally forbidden sight for the intact male at The Anguished E.

“I’m going to have you sing for me, boy. I like to hear the reaction to the whip, so you’ll howl loudly. Make the walls vibrate.”

Her right hand momentarily disappeared beneath the tapering latex over her abdomen. It slid downwards, her fingers diddling her lips, then slid out to the masturbator’s face.

“Something for you to think about. I am aroused seeing a boy trussed and ready for the whip.”

Her wet fingers slowly smoothed over his nose and lips. He trembled from her touch and the Madam laughed.

“Yes, boys should be afraid whenever I am aroused..., because there is only one thing that satiates me”.

She uncoiled the whip and flicked it, creating a crack that made the masturbator jump despite his tight bondage.

Laughing evilly, she stepped to his rear. The flagellation of the masturbator began. Erma, Pat and I found comfortable chairs.

The scene was that of a ballerina dancing to Tchaikovsky. With the smoothest of movements, the Madam drew back her whip hand and deftly brought it forward ending the motion with the simplest flicks of the wrist. The length of leather instantly uncoiled, seeming to randomly flash through the air. But when the second journey ended with an ear splitting crack, a uniform red welt appeared on the masturbator’s buttocks precisely below that caused by the first stroke. I realized there was no randomness. Madam Chang was an admirably skilled flagellator of boys.

The sound of each crack was immediately followed by a paroxysmal but forcibly restrained thrashing of the young male body and an equally ear splitting bluster of anguish.

I noted that her attire was indeed utilitarian, allowing her arm to swing freely without impediment.

After the second stroke the teenager began to cry. Blubbering away, the Madam ignored his indiscernible entreaties, continuing the evenly paced flogging. In time her brief attire revealed more than her anatomy. Madam Soong was indeed aroused, her scent causing me to glance between thighs where slight traces of moisture formed.

The door at the top of the stair opened. Momentarily flashing unwanted light into the dark chamber and distracting us. Johnnie sashayed down the stairs with a tray of after dinner drinks.

The Madam noticed the diversion and paused as Johnnie served each of us with a curtsy.

My Gran Marnier was well chilled in shaved ice as I demanded. I sipped and watched Madam survey her handiwork. A perfect pattern of welts covered both buttocks. The Madam’s hand brushed over the reddened swollen flesh and reached between to the genitals. She pulled downward on the masturbator’s penis as if pulling on the udder of a cow. Despite his semi comatose state he spasmed. His manhood was erect! Madam clucked her tongue but smiled.

“You see, Brandy. Despite the pain the truly submissive male tumefies. Look at the stiffness. But for his bound hands, he would probably be masturbating for me.”

It was curious that Madam Soong intuitively knew of the masturbator’s reaction, fully expecting the engorged organ to reveal an innate masochism and tugging it into view as proof of the boy’s desire to be subjugated.
She stepped back and resumed. Just two strokes to send a message that the agony would end at the Madam’s behest, not as a result of an unexpected interruption. Then she put down the whip and joined us in sipping our drinks.

Johnnie stared. Having often been caned he had evidently not before witnessed the drama of a single tailed flogging. The noise level was that of gun shots. Our maid humbly turned and left, obviously cognizant that he could be next.

“This boy will do nicely, Brandy. We’ll talk price in the morning , yes?”

I nodded. As stated the masturbator had provided the most delightfully sordid entertainment over the first few months of operating the ranch. But I needed the space. It was time he moved onward.

The session ended with the Madam selecting a small penis whip. Short and thin it was designed to excoriate the eponymous sensitive organ, inducing pain with minimal damage. Madam used it on the masturbator’s scrotum. Standing close by, she methodically applied forehand and backhand flicks and soon turned the dangling bag into a mass of red. Our hoarse masturbator resumed his bellows but to no avail. At that point exposed sensitive areas which were untouched by Madam’s whip hand could not be located. She paused to look over her handiwork. I am sure my own feminine scent joined that of Madam’s.

I turned to Pat and she simultaneously looked at me. We both needed to be with Tony. We excused ourselves as Erma applied cold compresses to our semi conscious masturbator.

Pat proceeded to our bedroom. I stopped in the kitchen to have Johnnie follow me with a wine bucket stocked with crushed ice and a bottle of Chardonnay.

When I entered, Pat already had Tony kneeling on the floor with his torso lying flat on my bed. His ankle chain had been removed.

“Do you want ice tonight, Tony? You’ll feel more without it.”

Pat was taunting the long chaste and infibulated Tony. Yes, he would feel more without the numbing ice and what he would feel without it would be pure pain.
As she spoke she released the chains attached to his testicle rings. Rarely did his gonads feel such freedom. I had his genitals constantly restrained since his eighteenth birthday many months before, though because his scrotum was slowly stretching the chain had to be released and shortened on occasion.

Meanwhile I was eager to feel Tony’s tongue. Watching the accomplished Madam utilize the whip so effectively made me wet. I began tossing aside my clothing. As stated, if there is one skill which a seasoned model acquires it’s the ability to remove clothing with speed. I was naked in a minute and smiled as Tony instinctively gazed at me, like a dog looking to his master.

Pat also stripped but her body didn’t draw the attention of mine, though personally I very much enjoyed the sculptured muscling.

I sat on the bed and slid toward Tony with my thighs open. His eyes widened being afforded the view for which he had pined daily for many years.

“I think the ten incher should do the job, Pat. But you may want to see if Tony approves.”

Pat buckled a formidable dildo harness around her waist and pointed to the door to ensure Johnnie’s departure. He reluctantly left as Pat picked a massive rubber phallus from a fully stocked drawer and placed it on the bed in front of a trembling Tony. It was an enjoyable ritual we could not resist, playfully asking Tony whether the implement that would thoroughly ream his tight rear aperture met with his approval.

He just looked with fear.

“Bigger?” inquired Pat with a chortle.