The Party Boy

The young nurse steps between the stirrups. The camera moves and zooms showing that in her hand is a pumice stone, craggy and rough. Jack, face not shown, cries out ‘no’ and the nurse shushes, not pausing for a moment in palming his long now flaccid penis applying the gruff surface to the sensitive thin flesh. She rubs mechanically, obviously having many times repeated the agonizing procedure. Once again comes the look of Schadenfreude as Jack is not at all shushed, instead his fruitless protests become louder.

“The entire penis is first excoriated,” the narrator explains as indeed the nurse assures every millimeter of skin is briskly rubbed, turning the pink more and more crimson.

Finally finished, the nurse steps away, Jack’s legs tugging in vain against his confining straps. When the nurse returns she dons latex gloves and carries a bowl of liquid.

“And then comes the Säurewäsche. Quite painful, but for the best, mentally transforming a source of perceived pleasure into a source of suffering.”

The hand action changes to become soft and tender, slowly and methodically coating the penis with the contents of the bowl. Jack shrieks, his voice becoming comic

ally hoarse with the deliberate application of what is evidently not water.

At this point I again click pause and open another screen in my browser. I must know, clicking on a translating page and doing my best to spell the German word. On my third try I find that Säurewäsche means acid wash!

Poor Jack. Indeed what brought him pleasure... though rarely under my auspices... the nurse is turning to the ultimate implement of slow torture.

I click back to see the nurse step away then return with the pole. It is now he is to be washed, for the acid remains and will eventually bring undesirable deep burns. And sure enough, the legs are freed from the stirrups and the pole directs him to the waiting chains. The yoke is attached, forcing Jack to stand, the pole removed and as the primary nurse steps away, an unseen nurse hoses Jack down with frigid water... at this point shocking yet gratefully welcomed by a penis on fire.

As the routine but irritating cleansing follows, two nurses scrubbing everywhere, the psychological implications tantalize. It would probably be in violation of Institute protocol, but I’d be curious at that point to see Jack attempt to stroke himself, offering an end to the dire chastity. His penis was slowly and methodically turned to a state of painful rawness by his tending nurse, ingraining her power and control... and sending a grim and forceful message to the sexually deviant male... that once proud strip of flesh is now solely to empty your bladder.

Yes, watching him hurt himself in the expectation of pleasure would be most entertaining.

As the scrubbing concludes, for the first time the brush handles are noted. Their unusual length permit the nurses to stand well to the side. With Jack’s feet unburdened, a retaliating kick is feasible. But the nurses, though young, are well experienced, staying out of range and at an improbable angle.

Rinsed, remaining dripping wet, the pole returns, soft cloth enshrouding the scrotum. Soaking wet, Jack is led away.

“Exercise is next, the patient well acclimated to being directed by his supervising nurse, never moving without the guidance of her hand. As you have noted, there is never contact with other patients. Patient Jack is always in isolation but for his nurse. His mind slowly being transformed, ingraining deference for her, exuding humility, with all sexuality and thoughts of sex eliminated.”

The video ends with Jack in the courtyard, yoke replaced by thick nylon waist belt with restraining cuffs. He silently plods in seemingly endless circles, following tugs on the pole, the hand of his nurse always in control. She speaks, probably in the dialect, the words unknown, the sound dampened. Her look is of cool confidence... so young... so much in control.

The scene fades. A caption comes on the screen...

For the elektronisch abgelassen of patient Jack, see video number 4

Well, not having the code, I will not see Jack painfully drained of semen utilizing the electric anal probe. Just as well, it oddly disturbs me seeing a boy ejaculate without the direction of a woman’s hand.

Epilogue

I finally find a suitable boy. This one wants to be feminized... at least on weekends... and never on semester break when he must return to his parents. It works for me. My new CFNM party boy... girl.

So I dress him, much more effeminately than Jack, and on weekends put him on display. I have just the place for him to show off... that seedy Soho club where Lips Louie entertains macho fisters with his oral prowess.

Since my boy is rather gender confused, the amusing reluctance of being stripped naked before men isn’t there as with Jack. Still the threat of having him bend and present his lovely cheeks for sodomy brings delightful concern.

It’s Saturday night. While my boy stands under bright lights presenting himself naked and erect, I make it a point to indeed find Lips Louie. It may cost my boy a wad of semen he’d rather not give up, but I am desirous of that contact information... for the ex con man who may remain legally married to Mrs. Judith Lipton.

I catch a glimpse, Louie in pink ribbon and bow. When I approach it seems he has just pleasured a rather well hung gang banger, for his voice is hoarse, obviously even Lips having limitations in the throat department.

“Would you like to taste my boy?” I bluntly suggest.

He looks. My boy wears make up, sparkling ear studs, hair long which I coif most girlishly for these Saturday soirees.

“A girly boy. Not really my type,” Lips equally blunt.

“Well how about a favor then. I’ll owe you one.”

Lips Louie, long out of his three piece suit and the staid practice of law, considers. He’s now a free spirit, not a care in the world, apparently earning quite a settlement from Kinder, Morganthau and Mack, the law firm that dismissed him... prematurely... sans appropriate human resource procedure.

“Find me a cowboy sometime. I like ‘em rugged.”