The Constancia Compendium

Well, this is why the only jewelry I wear can so easily be removed. I stand and approach. Fastened to the lapels of my silk blouse are numerous alligator clips. Small with the nastiest of teeth, I slide one off, diddle Mr. Dalton’s left nipple and select the most tender area...the very tip. The teeth are sharp and bite with such agony.

I release the jaws and he yelps. In moving he creates more pain by way of his nose bridle. I remove another and unmercifully clip his right nipple. He yelps again but learns to remain motionless.

I pause. Then with the simplest flick of my fingertip diddle the left clip. I know the sensation to be indescribably painful and his howls so indicate.

“Now...let’s talk, shall we, Mr. Dalton? I have many clips and your foreskin is lusciously vulnerable.”

Chapter Sixteen

Ted Dalton

Once this Dr. Corrothers convinced me it was in my best interests to speak, my mind opened like a floodgate. I said things, told stories and related fantasies of which I had never before spoken. She was firm, direct in not allowing me to skip any details or camouflage any aspect of my closeted life before I met Mrs. Dalton...nor the secretive dalliances with professionals thereafter...seeking some unattainable ‘high’ of complete submission...or low as some would suggest.

With the nose bridle so tightly secured above me, talking was physically difficult. I had to hold my head steady and flap my jaw, for want of a better term, to project the words.

She paused quite often. I assumed she was taking notes and after much time Nurse Jasmine entered and my assumption was confirmed.

“Let me finish jotting down this thought, Jasmine, then he’s yours.”

Words pleasantly communicated, but placing me in a panic. My earlier brief moments with Nurse Jasmine proved to be most demanding. This was to be no different.

The nipple clamps were summarily removed and the pain from the return of circulation to my most sensitive areas of pink cannot be described. And yet I had to remain motionless, lest I double the anguish by pulling against testicle and nose restraints.

Then she swatted down my erection, or what little remained, and placed a bowl under my flaccid penis. When I felt her fingers holding my manhood I knew I was to fill the bowl. I did.

Food was next. Tasteless mush. Spoonful after spoonful. Nurse Jasmine encouraged more and more and just as I finished swallowing a spoonful more was shoveled into my mouth. I was reminded of the joke concerning the good news and the bad news about dinner. The bad news...horse manure was all that was to be served...the good news...there was plenty of it.

I guess Dr. Corrothers left. While eating, another nurse must have entered, for while the spoon scooped some excess mush from my chin and reintroduced it to my lips as one would feed an infant, I again felt the cool wetness of an alcohol swab and the jolt of pain from a Thorazine booster.

When lunch ended I was chagrined to find myself placed into a another level of bondage.

Nurse Jasmine clamped my tongue. She was most cruel in doing so, tightening to the extreme and then securing the end to another cord to forcibly keep it pulled out of my mouth.

“You’re going to feel liquid, Mr. Dalton. I have hung an IV bag filled with water above you. It will very slowly drip into your mouth and of course you’ll swallow. It will not only keep you hydrated but also serve to exercise your tongue and promote stretching. We like nice strong tongues on our males.”

With those words she left. And sure enough a sizable drop of water splashed into the back of my mouth and with my tongue forcibly extended I had to work hard to swallow. It was frustrating but if I did not work the muscles I would have the sensation of drowning. How devious. Without my tormentress lifting a finger I was being exercised and my tongue slowly stretched.

It did take my mind off the other horrid restraints. Was my erection returning?

I remained blindfolded. The silence returned. I could not determine whether the boredom and monotony was worse than the slowly building pain with my bonds causing every muscle to ache...or the aggravating drops of water I was so laboriously forced to swallow in defiance of the cord and clamp holding out my tongue.

It felt like several hours. My bladder slowly filled and I tried to urinate. I could not. Was it the training.., not having a feminine hand assisting me...or perhaps I was erect. I did feel a throb there.

Finally, there came the sound of the door. Someone cruelly slapped my penis. I felt the brim of a bowl and the light grasp of fingers I had come to expect during urination.

“Luana is here. She’ll be taking you to the salt flats for some indoctrination.”

It was Nurse Jasmine speaking as I dutifully filled the bowl. Then I felt the various cords being jostled and one by one the restraints were loosened and removed. Had I been able to see. I would have kissed her feet in gratitude.

My eyes blinked as I was led to the entrance, this time by cords attached to my testicle rings. When I stepped out into the daylight I was surprised to see how much the position of the sun had changed. It was late afternoon and I had spent most of the day bound in the soundproofed room. It would not be the first time and nowhere near the last. I was strangely grateful to see Miss Luana and remained perfectly still for her while she saddled me. When finished I bent to offer my knee without being commanded. She giggled with a knowing pride and mounted me. It felt good to be free and to be of service.

She pulled on the reins to direct me back to the nearby path and cropped my right nipple. I immediately

responded, stepped onto the soft surface and felt a tug on my nose bridle to direct me to the left back down the hill. I felt her ankles work my testicles and understood she wanted speed. I began to jog and felt her free hand gently caress my left nipple as a simple reward. Rider and pony-boy were wordlessly communicating as she had suggested. With my exaggerated motion the anal insert manipulated my prostate gland and I once again stiffened.

We turned to the right and I jogged for five or ten minutes. Miss Luana pressed the fingers of her left hand against my neck. She was monitoring my pulse and I reflected on how knowledgeable she was at handling and controlling the male beast. I realized she knew my limits better than I did and I was oddly proud realizing she would take me there...the very brink of physical exhaustion...and perhaps beyond with well placed and timed applications of the crop.

I begin to perspire. Wetness dripped from every pore and she playfully reached back and cropped my buttocks, the flat leather tip making a frightful cracking sound the decibel level of which greatly exceeded any discomfort. Still it so nicely symbolized her authority...her control...smacking my haunches with impunity to ensure my attention and spur my efforts.