The Constancia Compendium - Page 25

“Nice and tight for the Judge, Amanda. She’ll want him well controlled.”

Amanda nods with quiet sagacity. She quickly releases the shaft and pinches the underside of the frenulum drawing as much skin as possible down and away from the hidden tip of the penis. Her right hand holds the needle, which she casually thrusts through the frenulum very close to the tip. Her effort is smooth and performed with a frightening degree of indifference. It is obvious she has executed the procedure numerous times.

I have always found it curious, the pregnant interval of time between the application of an instrument of pain and the reaction of the recipient. And Amanda uses that immeasurable second to release the shaft and hold the penetrating needle away from the boy’s buttocks and thighs, as he thrashes about in the confines

of the cage.

After he calms, she plays with the skewered penis, pulling it to and fro using the long needle as a handle. It is difficult to determine if she is just amusing herself or assuring that the holes, through the left and right underside of the frenulum, are properly opened.

There is a little blood and she dabs away what red I can see with an antiseptic soaked gauze pad.

“Amanda’s the best. I can assure you, Doctor, with the infibulating bar in that proximity, our new subject will feel discomfort with the slightest degree of tumescence.”

Yes. It is indeed a tight piercing. For after several minutes of twisting the needle to ensure a good opening, and waving the penis to and fro to demonstrate that enough foreskin had been skewered so that no tearing would occur, Amanda retrieves the evil but simple gold bar from the tray. She removes the needle and quickly inserts the bar into the new opening. One gold globe at the end prevents it from sliding through. A second gold globe is twisted onto the opposite end to hold it in place.

Just another infibulation, I conclude from the calm, professional demeanor of Amanda and the Doctor.

But the procedure is so casually performed yet impacts the lad from Warsaw so significantly that it shakes the psyche. Ringed and infibulated he will be waking to the commands and rigors of his behavior specialist for several months. After which I can only guess the demands, which the judge will extract, assuming his training meets with her approval. Assiduous oral service seems to be the de rigueur attribute for most of the clinic’s protégé’s. I visualize the thighs of the stern judge firmly clenching the Polish teenager’s head, relaxing after a busy day of sentencing recalcitrant males to horrid institutions of forced servitude.

For some reason, I had thought this first step in the complete subjugation of a young male would be more ceremonious. But when Amanda reaches to the tray for a large rubber stamp, then with equal casualness imprints the number 1567 unto the right buttock of the new arrival, it occurs to me just how many delinquent males have faced the clinic’s program of forced submission.

“Indelible ink,” is the Doctor’s only comment. Amanda continues to hold the penis securely to immobilize the clinic’s newest subject while the numerals dry. So 1567 enters his new world and he oddly becomes rather calm, while Amanda’s fingers firmly establish her authority with her impressive grip on his skewered male appendage.

We move onward. As I step away, Amanda plays with the penis and testicles. She softly offers words of encouragement as the former thief from Warsaw begins to tumefy. As a psychologist, I understand that her speech and demeanor are carefully chosen and practiced. 1567 will soon understand that he no longer controls his genitals or any other function for that matter. Amanda’s knowledgeable hands will bring his penis to near erection, offer sympathetic words as the pain of the infibulating bar performs its function, then graciously provide relief. Her soft, feminine voice will make 1567 fully aware of her power to exact pain, and her ability to offer mercy with a simple twist of the newly added gold globe and removal of the bar.

We next move to one of the strangest devices I have seen.

A young, behavior specialist is ardently strapping a subject into a very elaborate harness. A middle-aged woman joins her. She does not wear the common, starched, white uniform but instead is attired in black latex. But for the color, it resembles apparel worn by surgeons and nurses.

“Well, it appears some lucky young man is going to be masturbated on the spit. I believe you’ll find this of interest, Doctor. In addition to the orgasmic relief provided the behavior specialist, Nancy here is enlisted to provide special pleasure on occasion. She’s an experienced masturbatrix and the harness and spit are her creations.”

Indeed, the harnessed subject lies between two stanchions that resemble the large, barbecue spit one would see at a Texas ranch. Oddly one stanchion is higher than the other and the strong metal bar running between slopes downward. At the low end it is only a foot or so from the floor. The high end holds the bar up about three to four feet. The center third of the bar forks into two bars. The imagination frolics as I notice the two are split to the width of a human form.

Nancy speaks to the behavior specialist.

“Nice and tight on the straps, Helga. The sensation of complete helplessness is paramount.”

Helga aggressively pulls to tighten a broad, fur-lined strap encircling the right thigh. There are so many straps that more of the hairless flesh is covered with leather than is exposed. But the buttocks are naked and the number 1532 indicates the completely immobile subject has been in the program for some two months. Straps secure the ankles, calves, waist, chest, and arms and all have eyelets permitting the straps to in turn be elsewhere secured.

It is evident that number 1532 will soon find himself hooked to the bar. For Nancy releases the high end from its stanchion and lowers it to the floor where the “lucky” subject lies prostrate. His motionless form is the approximate length of the opening formed by the separation in the middle of the bar.

Both women smile in anticipation as they peer down to where a large, ball sac lies on the floor between the thighs. The tip of an infibulated penis can also be seen, and it appears to be somewhat engorged, perhaps also in anticipation of experiencing Nancy’s craft.

“Let’s have him ride for awhile. It’s important to ingrain the futility of attempting to move. And, it’s enjoyable to watch.”

Helga nods as both women stoop and roll 1532 unto his back and between the split bar.

“Let’s do the knee-chest position this time. But I want the thighs widely spread and held well up.”

Helga busies herself with several lengths of cord. The left and right side of each strap is attached to the split bar with the knees bent upwards as desired. She works quickly and as with every behavior specialist, she seems most comfortable working with articles of restraint.

Within minutes, 1532 is made part of the bar. The broad straps not only tightly bind every mobile part of his body, but they are also well secured to the bar. Helga’s finishing touch is to attach clamps to the tongue and nostrils. Both are tied to cords, which are tied to the bar near the lower stanchion. This serves to immobilize the head and face making any attempted movement most painful.

When Helga steps back to survey her work, it becomes obvious that 1532 cannot move a single limb or muscle. The two women silently wait with confident looks of power to ensure that 1532 is completely helpless, and indeed, the only detectible movement is his breathing. But the final test comes from Nancy. She lifts her right boot, jiggles the well-stretched scrotal sac with her toe, then cruelly begins to press one gonad against the right leather, thigh strap. The considerable pain causes no noticeable reaction except a slight gurgling sound. The vocal cords move, but the tongue cannot. Any verbal protest is lost.

“He’s ready.”

The two women lift the free end of the bar with 1532 attached back unto the stanchion. 1532 finds himself suspended by the bar, his head well below his knees. Had there been a charcoal fire below, it would appear that he was being prepared for consumption by the two smiling, female antagonists. His long scrotum hangs well below his buttocks. The infibulated penis seems to be engorging more. It is difficult to describe Helga’s smug look of self-satisfaction.

Tags: Chris Bellows Fiction
Source: readsnovelonline.net
readsnovelonline.net Copyright 2016 - 2024