Lady Constance again kneaded Boy’s testicles and Nancy’s attention was drawn as was mine to the free-swinging, pink bag.
“There’s coffee and toast for you, Doctor. If you care to stay, I am about to review a videotape. I believe you will find it of interest and certainly relates to the subject matter of your paper.”
Before I could reply, Nancy set a small table in front of my chair. I again had the opportunity to more closely examine her amazingly smooth skin and attempt to further satisfy my intellectual curiosity.
Whereas my initial impression told me Nancy was a teenager, a closer look revealed that she was older. The young age indicated by a quick glimpse of her hairless profile was deceptive. Despite her youthful, well-proportioned body, her eyes revealed a degree of maturity. The quiet obedience of her service evidenced many years of training. A musky, feminine scent emanating from moisture trickling down the inside of her thighs, although embarrassing, did not cause her to hesitate in her duties. This indicated to me a certain level of experience in mentally confronting the constant arousal provided by the vaginally inserted spheres.
“I occasionally enjoy the touch of a female, Doctor, particularly one who completely submits. And Nancy is most accommodating when I visit New York. Before I leave for the Caribbean, I’ll have Jasmine unlock her for an hour or so. After that, she’ll be belted until my next visit and remain very eager to see me.”
Coffee was poured, after which Nancy wordlessly lifted the bottom of the bed sheets, slid under and positioned herself between Lady Constance’s waiting thighs. The hairless head formed a curious bump in the satin between Lady Constance’s knees, which in turn slowly rose to make her pudendum accessible.
Lady Constance reached for a remote control device and pushed a button.
“I receive a weekly tape from an undisclosed location in Northern Africa. It’s from a Turkish woman. Her daughter is quite adept with the video camera.”
Lady Constance lifted her coffee cup, seemingly aloof to the bobbing head under the satin sheets, she casually sipped as the video rolled.
On the screen appears a man in a cell. He is nude and lying on his side. The camera moves closer and the bars become at first larger then disappear as the lens is placed between the bars.
“It is time, Jean Claude. Mother will take you for another ride.”
The man stares back at the camera, which is the source of the young, accented, female voice. After a pause, the lens zooms in on the man’s genitals. An extremely short penis with an iron ring piercing the tip lies atop swollen testicles. When the man moves the camera zooms back and follows him as he crawls forward and to his right. There, a padded leather horse awaits and he gingerly mounts it. Occasionally grimacing in pain, it is evident that either his legs or feet are sore.
The camera angles downward and films the man voluntarily placing his wrists into loops of rope. Someone outside the cell controls the opposite end of the rope, for the camera records the loops, as they tighten around the man’s wrists securing his arms and upper body to the horse.
A close-up of his face reveals tattooed lettering on the forehead, which can barely be discerned under layers of grime. ‘Molester’ is probably the word, but a clump of badly cut hair hides the last two letters.
Metallic sounds indicate that a key is opening the cell door. The camera pans backwards and reveals a tanned, middle aged woman entering the cell. She is wearing black, leather gloves, boots and nothing else. She appears strong and when she bends over the man, her back muscles suggest many years of manual labor. Her physique is not polished like Jasmine’s but appears to be of similar, superior strength.
Experienced hands gather up a thick leather strap from under the horse and buckle it around the man’s waist. More straps secure the thighs and the woman admonishes the man in a thick accent.
“The feet, Jean Claude. You know I need the feet.”
It is a calm matter of fact tone and the man reluctantly shifts his calves so that his ankles rest in stirrups and expose the soles of the feet.
“You’ll sing nicely for us today Jean Claude. My daughter has not douched for days, and I believe her essence will excite.”
The camera moves. The daughter holding it steps into the cell and the angle changes to the rear of the horse. The older woman sits astride the man’s waist and faces back to the camera. She places a newspaper on the stone floor between his parted thighs and grasps the testicles. After gruffly pulling about the scrotum she spreads out the flesh and reveals for the camera the letters “L” on one side and “C” on the other.
The letters have been branded into the scrotal flesh, and I notice Lady Constance smiling as the camera zooms inward. The branded letters and the date of the newspaper occupy the entire screen and remain for several seconds.
“I insist on evidence. Jean Claude is caned every week. The date on the newspaper insures this is not a copy of a prior session,” offered Lady Constance.
With this explanation the woman releases the scrotum, reaches down and pulls the diminutive penis into view. As stated, it is incredibly short. But more shocking is the absence of the tip. The one inch shaft just ends with a opening for the urethra and a crude ring piercing the flesh underneath. The woman toys and manipulates and the puny appendage begins to tumefy. Not really an erection, it more resembles the swelling of a large clitoris.
“You’ll squat to pee for the camera after I’m through, Jean Claude. This little stub isn’t much good for anything else.”
The camera moves back and to the side. There is a jarring motion and the nude body of a beautiful young woman comes into view. Apparently having placed the camera on a tripod, she is free to join her mother in tormenting the well-restrained prisoner.
A small stool is placed in front. The girl sits and spreads her legs. Jean Claude’s head rests between her thighs and his view of her naked charms is unimpeded. The mother leaves the camera view and returns. In her large, gloved hands she holds several canes. She swishes each one in making a selection, and Jean Claude grimaces with the ominous sound.
The woman occupies time with more preliminary preparation. Jean Claude begins to tremble. The girl moves a little closer, holds his head in her hands and whispers inaudible words of encouragement. With her change in position, Jean Claude’s mouth and nose appear to be inches from her naked, pink genitalia. If in fact she has not washed, her aroma must be overwhelming and in a conventional setting a male would be quite aroused.
But Jean Claude faces a strong, severe woman brandishing a frightening instrument of correction.
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“Your little stub shows arousal, Jean Claude. Perhaps the canings are exciting for you. Or perhaps you would once again like to molest my daughter.”