The Entrapped

“To the enema table,” she announces with irritating enthusiasm as the myriad of cuffs and straps are loosened.

Specially designed for one function, the metal top is beveled and has a modest lip at the edges to assure all sloppiness is directed to a drain in the center. I seem to spend an inordinate amount of time lying as Nurse Rita plies her expertise. Resistance is futile and just as the bondage makes me eager for release... to roam the isla and offer myself... the massive high colonics provide incentive as well.

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I hop up. Lie back and bring my knees to my chest. The table is short and when so positioned my buttocks are fully exposed at the very edge, offering Nurse Rita easy access. Straps at the front legs await my wrists. Ankle cuffs dangle from above and when attached hold me spread and well open.

With my liquid diet, there is little firm fecal matter to be expunged. Still Nurse Rita is thorough.

In preparation for the day I am to be ‘squeaky clean’ and my rectum is lubricated and stuffed with an inflatable nozzle which cannot be expelled. Then comes the deep cleansing enema, slow... seemingly as slow as the sludge offered by my feeding tube.

“No hurry. I’m going to fill you until it comes out your nose,” words offered in whimsy, but there are times when the humorous threat feels real.

And indeed, since not much stirs at the villa of Senor Escobar until noon.... demands for fellatio and anal sodomy mostly delayed into the afternoon... Nurse Rita has her way with me most of the morning. She fills with leisure.

She seems to enjoy feeling my tummy as it slowly bloats, ostensibly judging my fullness. But I believe for Nurse Rita it emblemizes her power, for no matter my pleas and protestations, squirming with the intensity of the cramping, it is she who decides on eventual release. She knows I am filled yet the flow continues.

Finally, there comes the cheering hiss of air, the deflated nozzle is slipped away and the soapiness gushes to the drain, along with remnants of the prior days anal coupling. Then come rinsing enemas of course... Nurse Rita not to be denied more delight.

There follows an application of alum, an astringent to keep my sphincter tight. Clever stuff, it offers tension, that which most pleases. And without such tendance, the daily penetration by some of Senor Escobar’s well endowed underlings would stretch me, rendering me incapable of offering the pleasure sought.

It works, I feel myself involuntarily tighten back there, my sphincter actually offering a modest level of resistance to Nurse Rita’s lubricating fingers. The abundance makes the inside of my cheeks glisten in the tropical sun and beckons the penis... as desired.

Then it’s a return to the Neosteel belt, a playful pat to my buttocks and I am released.

I don my makeup to pretty myself, and am then free to roam the house... somewhat like a pet cat. Senor Escobar has offered me to all. And when a guard does so much as wriggle a finger, I approach, kneel and utter the six words. The smiles are wicked. And the subsequent fellatio results in the only thing I am permitted to taste. Hot ejaculate jetting down my throat, my tongue and lips dutifully cleansing as trained.

I note that Senor Escobar never partakes. Yet all around him are encouraged to use me... and they do. And then the explanation dawns. Should light of the video from the Waldorf ever come to pass, he is day by day buying a degree of protection. All around him have engaged this maricon as well.

Who is it that will dare condemn the boss?

The rigorous Neosteel belt is passed off as Senor Escobar assuring himself that only he... the boss... will ever take me vaginally. And after experiencing the heat of the acetylene, envisioning some miscreant strapped down and being scorched... inch by inch... it will never be within my purview to divulge the absence of a tight female passage.

There are many who tire of my mouth and throat and chose to use me anally. The clever steel bars at my gluteal cleft do not inhibit penetration and actually serve to abet such... separating my cheeks most invitingly... beckoning he who prefers the style of the Greeks.

And thereafter come the ten words taught by Miss Candace... ‘Thank you, Sir, may I clean your penis for you?’

Such a debasing deed.

***

“Just a little pin prick,” a pleasant Nurse Rita apprizes.

She is correct, but the prick is to my penis! But for the many straps of my sleeping table my tensing muscles would thrust me into the air.

“Give you a nice big hard on... well... a hard on any way,” she adds with a giggle.

I feel something... down there... that I have not felt in over a year. The skin on my penis is stretching!

Nurse Rita moves to the top of my sleeping table where my head rests, held almost completely immobile by the restrictive posture collar. Her hands work to lift, straining against the thick layer of foam. She slips a pillow beneath. In my lower peripheral vision I can see what I have not seen since being locked in Neosteel and being exiled to Islas Rosario... my penis!

“Nitric oxide, Renee. It relaxes certain blood vessels and fosters what you can no longer achieve... an erection.”

Yes, it is firming, the tip rising, deepening in color from pink to crimson to purple. But it is distressingly small.

Nurse Rita glides her hand to my chest and begins toying with right nipple then left. She is surprisingly sensuous, her touch normally quite clinical. The brisance of joy seems to enhance the celebration of my penis, the organ seeming to be no longer attached.

“Wouldn’t you like to stroke it? How long has it been?”