“What are you thinking about, Sunny?” I inquire in pulling on the leash to resume our walk.
“Kim,” comes the succinct reply.
“Our little hermaphrodite neighbor?”
“Yes.”
“So Mrs. Anderson’s oral servant proves to be provocative.”
Sunny energetically nods and winces in forgetting such motion tensions her nose grommet.
More steps. I let Sunny excogitate.
“What is it about Kim that gives rise to thought?”
“The permanency. The intensity. The irreversible sacrifice. How will he ever escape his bonds?”
“He probably never will. I suppose some kind of cutting tool could be put to use, but the heat of the friction would burn his skin. The likes of Kim are probably best left in shackles, Sunny. A petty criminal reformed, brought to useful service. An otherwise wasted life has found redemption.”
“Mrs. Anderson said she was giving him something to shrink his balls,” Sunny exclaims.
“Yes, cyproterone acetate. An anti androgen. It slowly starves the male sex drive, blocking certain hormones. A side effect, as Mrs. Anderson correctly noted, is that Kim’s testicles will indeed shrink. Her dosage is low. I suspect she wants to mentally torment over the longest period possible. Quite devastating for most males. In offering the compound to convicted rapists as a form of chemical castration, many lawyers consider its use to be cruel and unusual punishment.”
We turn a corner. Sunny pauses.
“Come.”
“I can’t. I have to go.”
“Go potty? So relax and go. That’s why I diapered you.”
“But it will be messy.”
“I’ll clean you.”
Her look tells me the exchange of words is superfluous. The diet continues to offer both the looseness and the humiliation intended. She smiles most bashfully as I wait. Finally I tug, fully aware that her bowel movement continues.
Yes, it will be a mess, I will walk her as the odorous sludge oozes.
Her steps falter. The diaper fills. Finally words return as the deed is done.
“Is there a drug for women... something that will have similar effect?”
“You want to obliterate your sex drive? Usually not a consideration in women.”
“I will not be able to live with arroycoo. Cannot make a living. Yet I cannot live without it... that slow torment. The urges are... irresistible.. I need it... the suffering... the humiliation feeds something. It satisfies a need.”
“I know. And I have been most considerate in helping you.”
Most considerate and most gratified. Her fellatio really is superb.
“You’re a masochist, Sunny. You’ve spent almost three weeks celebrating your proclivity, daily hanging by your own flesh. Though we all must make a living, we must also address our psychological makeup. That is why you’re deep in thought about Kim. Relative bliss can be found in pleasing others. It’s in his psyche... as it is in yours.”
There is an odor which suggests Sunny has soiled her diaper with quite the load. We are well away from Ludlow Street. I turn another corner to head back. I have not given her a full bath in many days. I so much enjoy palpating her supple form.
I look back to see a combination of embarrassment with a twinkle of joy. Discomfort and ignominy with the filled diaper. Yet she knows she is pleasing me by being put on display, responding to my commanding hand.
“My grommet device remains operable, Sunny. There can be more. It will not end the need, the quirky drive. But in a way, having it go constantly unfulfilled may be the most delightful torment of all. Between Louise and me, possibly with the assistance of Mrs. Anderson, we can take care of you. Money is not a consideration, it’s the time. A girl like you needs attention.”
She nods, not fully understanding my offer, but that is my intention. I want blind obedience. Let her fantasize over the details.
In entering the building lobby, I whisk away her coat. She awaits the elevator, leashed, those wondrous breasts exposed, the odor of her diaper wafting throughout the cavernous entrance.
The car arrives with Mrs. Anderson on board. The doors open. She beams in gazing at the prominent breasts. Such a greeting for a woman of Mrs. Anderson’s sexual predilection.
“If there’s any girl who deserves to be corseted it is you, Sunny,” Mrs. Anderson exclaims, hands extending to palm right gland and left.
Both thumbs and forefingers knead the nipples and I envision this woman daily examining the young breasts of all those recalcitrant girls at Hartwood.
“There will come a day when I grow Kim’s glands. Time, hormones, suction and demanding supervision... that’s all it will take.”
She laughs and I join her.
“A quick shopping trip. Some buttermilk for Kim. Keeps him soft and plumps those buttocks.”
“Stop in afterward. I’ll be giving Sunny a bath.”
The thought entices as I note Mrs. Anderson’s nose crinkle in enduring Sunny’s scent.
“Yes, she is in need.”
Mrs. Anderson departs. We ride to Sunny’s loft.
Chapter Five
Mrs. Henrietta Anderson
Winnie offers a comfortable chair and a glass of Chablis. I sit in the bathroom and watch as Sunny, well restrained by various grommets, kneels in the tub. Thankfully in the few minutes it required for me to purchase the buttermilk and return, Winnie has the offending excrement washed away. Thus the tub fills and a soothing hot bath will follow.
I am reminded of the pleasing days at Hartwood when I would linger in the infirmary, watching Theresa indoctrinate the new girls. Stripped naked the otherwise troublesome young vixens were brought down a notch or two. If pediculosis was detected, she’d shave the entire lot, everywhere, head included just as with Sunny. The bearer of the lice would be shorn plus, and as an added precaution, whomever rode in on the bus with her as well. So, in viewing Sunny’s near baldness, watching her endure a careful examination stripped of all covering, I understand the intensity of the humiliation. I observed such every week.
Winnie tenderly laves with a soapy cloth... pet owner and pet. Sunny obediently kneels perfectly motionless, the hours of suspension obviously affecting the mind, instilling obedience, discipline. Her knees are divinely parted to expose herself to me... intentionally... unintentionally? She knows I sit directly behind her.
I think of all the encounters I had at Hartwood with my double dildo. A girl’s conduct determined the choice of apertures... good girls received good firm vaginal penetration... not entirely unwelcome. That’s the real reason why we constantly forbade masturbation at Hartwood. We wanted concupiscent girls eager to submit.
And for bad girls... well the tightness there and the resulting squeals can so much heighten the pleasure.
“You never completed the story about Kim... though the ending is apparent,” Winnie prompts as he works. “Sunny has developed a degree of curiosity.”
And so I once again narrate...
Yes, I had the rascal Kim clapped in irons. Maggie weighed each before her heavy hammer and massive arms bent, forged then riveted wrist cuffs, ankle cuffs, arm bands, thighs bands, waist band and neck collar. Together with the imposing chains and penis rings I had Kim bearing nearly one hundred pounds. I had him placed in solitary confinement, dark and well restrained. Just two weeks, to soften up his mind.
He had played the system, made a lot of people look foolish. Had his ruse been uncovered, jobs would have be lost. I needed him to think about that. There was a price to be paid.
I immediately contacted a doctor friend about obtaining an anti androgen. He prescribed some cyproterone acetate. Easily arranged when I explained the circumstances. Even well restrained I couldn’t have some horny twenty something running about in a girl’s reformatory, my chastity rings aside.
And so began six months of intensive training. Having divulged the secret endowment he used to attract women and enlist them in his scheme, it was time
for a more governing woman to use it to advantage, but certainly not to his.
Kim learned that in a place of incarceration everything becomes a privilege. Eating, drinking moving, urinating, even breathing. So we developed a protocol which mandated using that massive tongue in some form for everything needed to live. Yes, he licked for food. He licked to earn a drink. The many restraints made it possible to bind him quite tightly in any number of ways. Release required any number of licks.
Bathroom privileges as well were earned. As you probably have guessed, his short wrist chains deter any touching of the penis, thus a matron or nurse had to carefully align that tiny pecker before he could empty his bladder. Those needles Maggie glued into the rings are fiercely pointed.
And breathing? That became the privilege most earnestly earned. I simply sat on his face, covering mouth and nose, slowly smothering until lips and tongue offered pleasure. Not a difficult endeavor. As you know Kim is naturally subservient. But training him to do it right and develop the stamina I demanded required hour after hour of practice... exquisite practice.
And so, after two weeks in solitary confinement and I would guess two to three weeks of humbly licking for privileges, we developed a wondrous oral servant. In daily governing girls, Kim was a welcomed change. And though we kept him isolated from the main body of ‘guests’, on occasion we’d put him on display. As Theresa inferred in greeting Sunny, making an example of one girl can greatly benefit the behavior of others. So word got out, if we could bring a male to complete capitulation then certainly even the most truculent girl could be broken.
***
Winnie smoothes the soapy chamois with the gentleness of a father tending to an infant. He checks the many grommets, squeezing and pinching tufts of wonderfully soft flesh. Nothing escapes his inspection. Even Sunny’s labia are probed, clinically. And he announces the need for shaving.
“Please, not in front of Mrs. Anderson.”
“Shush. You will exhibit all, Sunny... and to everyone. You’ll be shaven smooth and I’ll oil you too. Mrs. Anderson likes the way you gleam in bondage.”
I do indeed.
Sunny is rinsed. The tub drains. Her grommets are released. Winnie helps her stand and dries her with a large fluffy towel.
“Lie down and spread.”
Sunny assumes a most revealing pose. Supine, she lifts her legs, knees to chest then parts her thighs to display for male eyes everything a girl seeks to cloak. Her sex is perfectly symmetrical. Nice meaty labia majora part to expose the pink of labia minora, the deep color heightened by the hot water and I assume the intensity of the embarrassing pose. Below is the rose bud of her anus, equally offered for visual inspection. Winnie continues his examination, his fingers working to further splay the lips then lifting to force the clitoral hood to expose the precious and oversensitive bud. He purses his lips and gently blows, the waft of cool air bringing unfamiliar sensations to what I assume has been a most neglected morsel over the weeks of Sunny’s ordeal. The naked minx squirms and giggles, the sound of an innocent toddler reacting to her father’s tease.
A finger probes her well scrubbed rectum. Another squeal, this one more in protest.
“Are you going to hang me?” her tone rueful.
“Of course, Sunny. How else would you want to entertain?”
Shaving lotion coats the pubes. Winnie deftly whisks a razor about, removing unseen stubble. I doubt shaving is needed. The process is more for show and I note that his hand is experienced. It is not his first incursion there.
“For how long?”
Winnie just smiles and completes his task, dabbing away the excess lotion with a wet towel.
“I will decide that. Legs down.”
It is disappointing to see all that feminine pinkness retreat into the folds of her mons. At Hartwood I’d impale a girl assuming such a pose, making her squirm with abandon, more than meek squeals. The business end of my double dildo would drive an otherwise chaste girl to Sapphic ecstasy.
Sunny knows to place her hands behind her head as mineral oil is slathered about. It is obvious that my presence brings not before experienced concerns, lying naked and exposed, her humbled form presented for examination and, as Winnie suggested, forced to entertain. And she does. Sizeable breasts for a slight girl. And with those well rounded buttocks, it appears she is lying propped on a pillow.
A massage begins. The oil is rubbed everywhere. Winnie knows the anatomy, offering deep kneading of the large muscles. I enjoy noting the attention paid to the pectoral muscles. And of course being male, Winnie uses the proximity to tweak the nipples. Another squeal.
Sunny’s completely exposed flesh glimmers under the lights of the bathroom. Winnie twirls a finger in the air and the naked girl knows to roll to her tummy.
More oil. The hands began anew.
“So, all that bliss and you still retired, Mrs. Anderson?” Winnie’s question encouraging a reminiscent return to Hartwood...
***
Our conspiracy was large and the loyalty within thorough. Yet, as stated, keeping a young male in an institution for troublesome teenage girls is challenging. You can imagine the reaction of the male guards, those patrolling the perimeter of the facility, if Kim’s presence was unveiled. And as stated, there were instances in which we found Kim’s subjugation to be useful... putting him on display to instill fear in girls found to be particularly belligerent.
Obviously, over time, word of Kim’s unusual incarceration would spread, and quite possibly beyond the cadre of male guards. After all, sentences are served out, majorities are attained, girls move on in release. The story would not initially be believed. But over time, repeated often enough... who knows?
So with the opportunity for retirement coinciding with the termination of Kim’s official sentence, there came a quandary. Keeping him longer would eventually bring the eye of investigation. Releasing him to the outside world require the removal of some one hundred pounds of iron... or face investigation as to how he came to be so thoroughly shackled. As you have seen, Maggie made the restraints quite ineluctable.
So, I placed Kim into solitary for another two weeks. Chained down... forced much of the time to lie in his own excretions... fed haphazardly... watered constantly to assure the discomfort of either withholding his flow or lying in his own urine... one can imagine the resulting effect on the mind.
Subsequent release was like tossing Br’er Rabbit into the briar patch. The elation was palpable. It was then that I offered a lifetime of servitude or a return to the hellish hole of solitary confinement, followed by the disclosure of his circumstances... a conniving male sneaking into a girl’s reformatory.
It was a bluff of course. By then the penalty for our own complicity greatly exceeded anything to be meted out to Kim. Six months of false imprisonment with forced oral service to all. One can imagine the tabloid headlines with that story.
But it worked. Mind clouded, Kim agreed that the shackles were not to be removed. The fear of more dark immobility in solitary versus the relative comfort of serving me... the decision for him was apparent.
By then the cyproterone acetate had laid to waste any normal male sex drive. He had learned to vicariously obtain pleasure by offering such to others. And putting aside his chemical castration, the physical impediment of my rings sealed his forced chastity. I effectively transformed him into a eunuch.
Kim was born to serve the governing woman... he is fulfilling his life’s purpose.
***
“Time to hang, pretty girl.”
My soliloquy ends as Winnie finishes his massage. I note that an index finger lastly worked that cute tight rectum, assuring there are traces of oil well into the anal passage.
With no command needed, Sunny pushes back her elbows and Winnie clips together the grommets there to immobilize arms and hands. The nose leash is clipped on, and I realize that Sunny never moves about without sensing some form of bondage and control. She is being programmed. And just as Kim somehow
became accustomed to his mass of metal, in time Sunny will find freedom to be uncomfortably vague, her mind not able to function without a guiding hand.
The leash hand tugs and a languorous Sunny struggles to arise. Though I know her grommets to be weeks ago inserted, the muscles and tendons still react to their presence. Like an aged and arthritic woman, she eventually finds herself on her toes. Circulation returning and balance established, she prances in response to Winnie’s controlling hand.
Into the main quarters, the frame awaits and I know to move to the kitchen area while Winnie adroitly hangs his toy.
“Wine?” I inquire knowing nothing other than to open and pour.
“A little libation before dinner would be nice. There’s more ice cold Chablis in the fridge.”
I watch as Sunny begins her twice daily homage to masochism. Nose leash connected to the front pipe above, the long corset cord is threaded through her sixteen spinal grommets then connected to front pipe, rear pipe and tightened. Elbows released and reconnected to the side pipes. Buttock grommets to side pipes. And lastly, most painfully, right ankle then left are raised high, legs bending at the knee, to secure Sunny’s nakedness well off the floor.
Initially agonizing, Winnie rushes about to tighten and adjust, assuring the weight is evenly distributed. Within moments, Sunny calms, entering her space...that of subjugation... slow building pain... humiliation... a masochist’s dreamworld.
Lastly, the hair bob is used to hoist the head and offer a degree of slack to the nose leash. With that, Sunny seems to moan in odd relaxation.
“Good girl. Close your eyes and concentrate on your exhibition. Think of yourself as a object, a fine piece of sculpture, to be admired, to amuse, to entertain. Mrs. Anderson is enjoying your glistening nakedness. You’re a naughty girl, obtaining joy in such a brazen display of your charms... you’re held well spread... your breasts presented so lewdly...”
Dr. Winthrop Samuels Series Page 12
