Retaliation

by Jurgen von Stuka

  Still pinned at the waist to the horizontal crossbar, but now standing upright, Flannigan struggled as Eloise proceeded to force the dangling left nut upwards and into his pelvic cavity. He, of course, resisted, but in time the ball went up through the narrow internal passage and nestled among the six steel inhabitants of his painfully packed groin.

  “Now, the really tough part,” intoned Eloise, as she fingered and pressed the remaining right nut upwards into the now fully packed cavity. Flannigan screamed into his gag, but he soft testicle adapted to the small opening in the bone and reluctantly entered and stayed inside, leaving only the whipped prick dangling. A stainless steel chastity belt, locked in place and holding his cock in a pressed, upright position, finished Flannigan for the day and he was carted off to his dark and damp cell in the lower basement.

  Eloise and Bridget followed up with the other two waiting slaves, succeeding in getting six steel balls into one and only five into the other. Both were plugged, belted and then flogged with the fiberglass switch as a reminder that this was just a small fraction of the training program that had been chosen for them all. All three had already been outfitted as training ponies and made their daily rounds on the track, usually pulling a two-wheeled sulky with one of the guards or instructors driving hard and fast, never sparing the whip. Harnessed, bitted and wearing an assortment of decorations selected in the barn by their driver, the pulling ponies were still learning the various gaits and were confused when the reins signaled trot instead of canter.

  “That’s why you’re here,” Melinda said one afternoon as she lectured four harnessed ponies who had just completed a five mile workout. “When you figure out which gait your driver wants, you may be allowed to provide more intimate services to them or me, such as sucking my asshole or tonguing my clit. I know that sounds like more fun, but it will be done, I can assure you, with you still in pony drag and perhaps with some other assists like a milking machine on your dick.”

  Melinda was always inclined to talk about details because she knew that these lowlife former men would dwell on such information at night while they knelt, hung or lay in their stalls with huge plugs up their ass and a nasty gag bit in their mouth.

  “I’ll fill out the reports,” Eloise said as they left the room. “You get to clean up the mess.”

  “Oh, thank you, Mistress Eloise,” Bridget said quietly, bowing deeply and allowing one full boob to pop out of the skimpy rubber bra. “Thank you so much.”

  Her ball-stuffed charges could only suffer and try to shift their bodies to some less uncomfortable position, wondering about the symbolism of having balls stuffed up their ass when only a few months before, they had been stuffing their girlfriends asses with their dicks.

  Revenge is a bitch.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Selling Curt

  The on line auction had more than a dozen offerings, but Curt, now officially Courtney, was among the top participants this week. The former NFP player and TV sports commentator was no longer his young, wavy-haired self-important self. In fact, were it not for his resume that was part of the promotion for the auction, n one would have recognized the image they now saw before them on their monitors. The conversion of Curt to Courtney was yet another testimony to Melinda’s skill with a scalpel. Courtney was a moderately tall, lean young woman with dark brown hair that came to her shoulders. Her face, partly distorted by the tight black ball gag, was accented by high cheek bones and full lips, but her eyes had a somewhat Asian look to them. Her skin had been improved by several sessions with a laser and chemical application to look like that of a blushing young woman who perhaps might drink a little too much.

  The auctioneers had, as was their habit, not outfitted Courtney in her most often worn rubber attire, but had substituted brief lingerie intended to make the audience salivate with desire: a totally transparent white teddy that displayed large, fulsome breasts enclosed in a white lace, half-cupped demi-bra, a tiny white lace thong and matching white garter belt supporting lace-topped hose. To balance the look, she wore moderately high black patent pumps with ankle straps that conveniently locked and linked to a thing silver chain joining her ankles. Her wrists and upper arms were pulled back so that the elbows met and the hands closely cuffed in chromed manacles.

  “This is Courtney,” the auctioneer narrated. “She is a complete TS with all female assets except the negatives…meaning she of course, will not suffer from monthly menstrual cycles and the associated mood swings. Her weight and measurements are certified to be exactly as noted in your program. Previous owners also certified that she does not require any medications beyond the usual weekly hormones. Her hair is natural in color and dental work perfect. She is, of course, STD free and blood tested to verify no past STD experiences. Well kept, obedient and adaptable to virtually any fetishes, but she is most comfortable in full chains and has been kept thus for many months during her training. In the interests of full disclosure at inspection, she is at present unencumbered by any insertables, but has demonstrated acceptance of seven inches frontally and six to eight inches anally. Present owners and trainers are The Switch, TSE, in Morocco. (I mention this, Ladies and Gentlemen, because we all know that T.S. Enterprises, is recognized as among the very top providers and trainers on this earth). Let the bidding begin at two hundred fifty thousand Euros.”

  Bidding began at a quarter million Euros and was spirited. At one point in the bidding, a client requested that the subject turn around and spread her ass cheeks for one of the cameras. This perfectly legitimate request was honored and Courtney slowly pivoted on her chained high heels, bent over at the waist and pulled her ass cheeks apart with her cuffed hands. She then pulled the thin white thong band aside, revealing an unscarred, naked pink butthole flanked by well shaped buttocks that didn’t jiggle as she held them spread apart. She held that posture until she was told to return to her former position. The bidding went to 850,000 Euros while clients on line clients debated the value of this former NFL star as a house pet or dungeon slave.

  As Melinda knew well, this kind of bidding was motivated more by the desire on the part of her clients to have a former celebrity in their slave collection rather than any real interest in the physical characteristics of the slave. From Miami to Milan, there were wealthy men and women who enjoyed showing off their household toy collection. A few celebrities were always included, so it was likely that the former Curt, NFL star and TV commentator, would be considered a useful short time addition to any collection. When the novelty wore off, there would be a less glittering auction and the ex-man, now well-used transsexual, would probably disappear into some Asian brothel, latex body suit and all.

  Throughout this, Courtney did what she had been trained to do. She was no longer a sports star making touch-downs or a well dressed, color commentator on the network, wearing his goofy head set and making comments that any ten-year-old football fan might have made with more vigor. She knew well, having been trained long and in detail, that the better she looked the more likely she would end up in a more comfortable situation. Failure to appeal to the sex interests of her owners-to-be would probably mean spending the rest of her new female life in a fuckfair somewhere in the Asian Sub Continent, Africa or worse.

  Thus, Courtney did her very best to look like what she was now, not a middle aged man transformed into a slightly younger-looking female sex slave with excellent tits, a tight ass, hairless, carefully constructed pussy, well developed cheek bones and stylish facial contours and a nicely shaped mouth. As she rotated on her high heels to display her marvelous, cellulite-free ass and muscular legs, she smiled and tilted her blond head slightly, as if inviting an ass reaming.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Soccer With Balls

  Melinda sat in her office, working feverously at the computer keyboard. Although it was nearly three in the morning, She remained busy because She was in contact with former associates in six and seven earlier time zones.

  “I have acquired
some interesting items which may interest you,” She wrote. “Attached, encrypted in the codes we used before, are some initial pix of the duo. While I have not yet begun adapting them to what I think will be the special purposes you plan, it will be useful to know exactly what you might have in mind.

  “It has already occurred to me that the little episode with the twin Italians a few years ago might be of use here. From what I hear, they both are still fully functional and earning their keep, so to speak.

  “In any case, let me know your thoughts on this before I get too deeply involved with this pair. It’s not that the initial work cannot be reversed, but doing so is, in both cases, complex and time-consuming. As you can, I am sure, appreciate, removing a penis and testicles is no big deal. Putting them back in place, fully functional, is a substantial surgical challenge. Adding a nice pair of breasts is now common and easy for me to do. Adding a functional vagina and all the other female equipment is, well, is quite a different procedure.”

  She signed off and made notes to get videos of both new subjects the next day and send them off as a follow-up to her message. That done, She got up, locked the office, had a few brief words with the security team and went to bed, noting that the thing chained to the steel foot board of the bed appeared to be in a deep sleep, its breathing barely audible through the thick leather hood enclosing it’s head. The rest of the apparently female slave was sealed into a heavy rubber mermaid sack, complete with tail fins and gills in the rubber hood. Recalling that this little item was once one Graham Wills, a second tier soccer player, and not a very talented one at that, Melinda reached over and tugged at the heavy breast shackles. The finned thing started, grunted, tried to move its arms which were chained inside the heavy rubber sack and then fell back on the cold floor beneath it, knowing that struggling was to no avail.

  “Get some more sleep, Graham,” Melinda muttered as She shortened the subject’s collar chain so that zero movement was possible. “You’re going to need it. Tomorrow you lose both your balls and your dick. Sweet dreams.”

  Then, tweaking a ringed, already stone-hard and respectable female nipple that oozed out of a small hole in the mermaid’s latex chest area, She turned and headed for the bathroom.

  I need to remember to deal with this tomorrow as well, Melinda thought as She scrubbed off her makeup and brushed her teeth. I’m done with that pig. Once he’s castrated and dickless, he goes to Professor Amis. And that will be that. Of course, it would have been fun to expose the little prick for what he was. The team probably would have killed him if the owner hadn’t seen the light and sent him here instead. God, I’m so tired of these macho sports figures turning out to be queer at best and secretly yearning to be sexy strippers instead of running up and down a field chasing a ball.

  The subject, the thing chained at the foot of her bed had once been a close buddy of her late ex and Melinda had taken her time in arranging his apparent demise. The hardest part of that ordeal had been finding a suitable stand-in corpse. A boating accident seemed to be the overall solution and in arranging this, She found that once again her background in covert operations, where people simply vanished forever, was extremely useful. In Graham’s case, he was out in his little center cockpit boat one day when the weather suddenly changed and he found himself fighting just to keep the small craft afloat in the following storm. A nearby fishing boat, chartered by Melinda, intervened, off-loaded Graham and replaced him with the stand-in body. A bit of gasoline, mixed with heavy oil to keep it from blowing away, spilled into the cockpit from three five gallon plastic containers and a marker flare took care of the rest.

  Melinda stood in the freezing rain and sleet that day, about fifty meters away from the burning boat and waited until it sank, then went below where the fishermen had already tied, gagged and hooded Graham and stuffed him into a locker.

  “Thanks, Philippe,” Melinda said. “You know the drill. I want him at the factory no later than the end of the week. In the meantime, do what you want with him, but no marks and I certainly want him fully cognizant when he arrives at my place. For now, his ass is yours... literally”

  “Yes Doctor,” the Frenchman responded, licking his lips unconsciously as he considered what he might do with the slim young man presently locked in the closet. “It will be as you ask. And thank you. Your donation to The Disabled Fisherman’s Fund was more than generous.”

  So Her ex-husband’s circle of friends slowly shrank and Melinda drew a line through another name on her list, fully aware that She was taking out the small fish first and that the large fry were still her top targets. Few things brought Her more pleasure than emasculating big shot celebrities who would, if they could, propose a long weekend in bed with Her with the time equally divided between fucking Her and subtly trying to get Her to fuck him in the ass.

  Melinda climbed naked into her luxury bed, fluffed her pillows, inserted one center finger into her wet sex, diddled herself for a few moments and passed out from sheer exhaustion. She rolled over once and went to sleep, later dreaming of the ideal creation She might someday venture to surgically engineer…a half man, half woman creature that self-serviced but could also sexually satisfy multiple partners in a variety of ways. This was no mere hermaphrodite Melinda had in mind, but rather a sort of asexual, hybrid human that could offer male or female sex organs in the same sort of situation in which normal humans became sexually aroused. She had researched for years the scientific and often vaguely legal efforts in the medical community to create the somewhat mythical androgyne, a carefully engineered and complex human that could look either male or female, depending on its attire and presentation, and which offered the sex organs and capabilities of either gender.

  Want a guy? Just say so and the erectile tissue popped up from its hiding place inside the vagina, complete with the rest of the package and a scruffy beard on his face. Want a cute, but perhaps a bit broad-shouldered little bitch? The pussy and nice tits were almost instantly available and the male junk was gone…well, gone internally until it was next called up.

  The physical problems to this vision, such as how to have her hybrid present a totally male façade, complete in every way, on demand, but to be able to alter that physical condition more or less on call and become the female version in the same body, were obviously immense. As bizarre as this concept was, Melinda’s experiments thus far had proven that such a creation was not only possible, but with perfect plastic surgery on the right subject, a touch of some special hormones, some permanent cosmetics and the final result would be spectacular. Priceless. She remained unsure about which gender to begin with but continued to seek the perfect specimen subject. At one time, She had even considered her now fully feminized ex husband, but that had not worked out. He/she was now off on a six month lease to a global entertainment firm that specialized in providing sophisticated acts to night clubs from Moscow to Manila. The former Hank was now a head liner, billed on the marquee as “Miss Honey” from Chicago. Honey had never been to Chicago, but her temporary bosses found such marketing effective, especially in Asian cities where most of the high rollers knew that at least one American government executive had claimed origins from that city. Honey was living the life of a low level stripper, performing nightly at a small, exclusive club in Macau, where he/she was offered at a substantial surcharge, billed as a “resort fee,” to the class crowd who wanted a little nooky as relief from the gambling tables. Honey’s days were spent in moderate comfort. She had her own tiny, locked room with a large bath tub and the amenities Melinda never provided, such as an electric hair trimmer, skin lotions, a selection of fine perfumed soap and revealing, but soft garments that seemed to keep her audience enthralled, as drunk as they usually were. She had Nah, a tiny young TS woman who provided manicures, pedicures and messages. She helped with Honey’s now shoulder-length hair. Nah, formerly a male of small stature, had once been a “pusher” in a Tokyo railway terminal and had one night been pushed into a waiting mini van and taken to a clin
ic where the last vestiges of her male gender were removed and replaced by female equipment, all in the matter of a few days. For reasons Honey never learned, Nah’s tongue had been removed at some point during her transition, so they didn’t converse. Ever. Honey had few complaints except when he let his mind wander back to the old days when he was doing pretty young women in his Five Seasons penthouse…a story that no one would have believed, even if he told them. Melinda’s foreign contacts from her past remained highly interested in such a product and the cost to them was absolutely not a problem.

  These issues often kept Her awake into the early morning hours, but tonight, the actual surgical solutions came flooding into Her head, leaving Her to sleep and dream vividly for several hours.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Jerked Off

  “Just for the variety,’ Melinda said as She sat at the head of Her staff meeting table. “Let’s let him keep his junk for awhile and see what he can be trained to do.”

  The meeting team displayed some surprise. They were all under the impression that the recent acquisition of the mayor from a large northeastern city would be getting the full Switch treatment, requested by a wealthy group of taxpayers who were fed up with the corruption and misdeeds of this slippery politician.

  “What do you have in mind then,” Pricilla, a thirty-three year old lawyer and associate on The Switch board of directors. “We must honor the contract.”

  “I have no intention of violating any part of the deal,” Melinda said quietly. “In fact, what I have in mind will make the sponsors of this prick happier than they would have been if we just cut off his dangling organs and fed them to him in hot sauce, as one of the city staff women suggested.”

  “What do you want to do?” Brenda said, more or less on cue.