She stoops, reaches between my thighs and releases my penis clasp, the chiming sounding for what I would learn to be the last time.
“Your little penis is going to be nicely tucked away. Very safe... very secure... covered in this thick shield of stainless steel.”
A set of curved rods go around my waist. Snug but surprisingly comfortable. Then her fingers work to align my penis into a little tube attached to this shiny crotch piece. That done, the shield attaches to the waist rods, covering my entire pubes... penis and puffy folds of my empty scrotum. Finally, I watch with concern as a duel set of rods are attached to the bottom of the shield and then pushed up to attach to the waist band at the small of my back. Once again snug, the smooth rods press into my gluteal cleft, the curvature such that my cheeks are well parted at my anus, thus holding me open... presumably to defecate... but permitting penetration as well.
Sergeant Kelly holds up a key, smiles then works a lock at the front, the contraption tightening slightly more to the sound of a most ominous click.
She then pats my head and toys with my nipples. Despite the concern, I join in her smile and giggle like the little girl I have become.
“All safe now. No one will ever determine girl or boy while you’re wearing the Neosteel belt. And no one will ever get it off... unless you’re dead... or they have the key. Tempered steel, Renee. Very hard... very expensive. But this key is worth $300,000. A good return on my investment.”
I am once again befuddled. Neutered... yet locked in a chastity device... and one of considerable ineluctability. Why?
“Now Waddy needs to be entertained. Go lick his balls like a good little girl.”
***
The weather outstanding, I begin to better understand the CB 3000 adorning Waddy’s male package. Sergeant Kelly strips to a bikini bottom. More like a thong... a postage stamp covers her mons... barely... some strings about the waist and between her cheeks. She is otherwise naked. Poor Waddy beseeches for release, his penis challenging the plastic cage. And that is when I am instructed to lick his balls.
“Discipline, Waddy, you cannot have everything you see.”
And so we sail the Caribbean. I serve, Waddy navigates, and Sergeant Kelly occasionally mans the sails... otherwise offering maddening temptation.
Evenings we anchor and moor, the Caribbean offering hundreds of islands with protective coves. I cook, Waddy rests... tries to rest. After some wine there comes a curious ménage a trois as Sergeant Kelly stuffs my ears, slips my cunnilingus hood over my head and my tongue and lips are put to work... bringing delight to my protector... and frustration to Waddy and his entrapped package.
Yes we sleep together, a naked Sergeant Kelly seeming to revel in her sexual power... only she attaining orgasms... too many to count.
I am chagrined to conclude that the Neosteel contraption is disconcertingly comfortable. There is no reason to remove it... no chafing... no pinching. The stainless and rubber coated bars are cleaned by way of a quick dip in the ocean. My penis stuffed into a tube, it drains into the toilet as I squat to pee. And so I must wonder... will I ever again see the vestiges of my maleness?
***
Somewhere in the Caribbean
Sergeant Kelly Roberts
Such great scenery... such great oral satiation. Tormenting Waddy while feeling Renee’s nimble tongue dance then thrust can bring a woman frothy multiple orgasms. Hearing Waddy beg for the key... amazing exchange of sexual power.
Somewhere east of Aruba my cell phone comes back into range. I have a text message. I click... a Miss Ramona Cortez... politely responding to my note left at the Waldorf apartments.
‘Good to know Pablo Escobar has not escaped the concern of the NYPD. I prefer to remain above any raucous, but I believe if you log into www.esco1345681345, you will find something of interest. Something my friend Pablo paid much money to see. You may find it useful in protecting yourself. The source not to be divulged, please.’
Interesting.
It’s difficult to use the satellite dish while sailing, but Aruba is in sight. The calm waters, a stilled yacht and I can visit www.esco1345681345.
Meanwhile, though there is a steady trade wind, I still somewhat perspire. So I have Renee lick away... every drop from my entire body.
I will miss her.
***
We moor, I angle the satellite dish. The clever device picks up a signal and locks on, gyros moving the dish with the slight rolling of The Crosser D.
To the internet, I type with fervor, hopefully to learn of the intense craving for Renee’s presence... $300,000 plus dollars worth of craving.
And it all unfolds... bondage... a meek and humble Renee in her ‘little girl’ near nakedness, pink silk panties her only covering... crawling in a formidable cage... the barbaric Escobar beckoning... then comes the meek voice and the six beseeching words... sodomy... a turgid manhood ramming into the face of what appears to be a prepubescent ingénue.
I know of the true gender... and the true age... but not any other viewer. Then comes even more... a montage of Renee. Completely naked... penis somewhat visible... but there come close ups. One after another rolls forth and the tiny thing is finally, and conclusively, shown in the palm of a governing woman.