A Gift From James

The lack of wind and the nature of the sounds told me we were in a building, most likely a train shed. My feet stepped on wood, rapidly, as Ms. Laitai was walking quickly and I had to take many small steps to keep up.

She kept tugging to encourage haste, then finally came another slap on my buttocks and a command. “On your toes, James. Knees nice and high for me. Prance.”

I complied instantly. My movement resembled jogging in place and I heard the giggling laughter of women. But my vigorous steps warmed me and it became easier to keep pace. And of course, my newly lengthened testicles swung about causing my twinging penis to further harden and become the source of more comments, which in turn caused more tumescence.

The wood turned to concrete and after a pause to enter a doorway, the air became warm and the softness of carpeting could be felt. Eventually as we moved onward, the noise and laughter of other people diminished and we arrived at a suite of rooms. I could feel the tip of my erection touching my lower abdomen.

And so went my arrival at the spa, putting on a display for the benefit of an unknown crowd, naked and capering at the end of a leash like a show horse.

And I felt so strangely satisfied knowing that Ms. D was also watching...

D

I decided that until James legally consented to his gift the less he knew of the spa the better. The large number of dominant women being pampered and serviced by submissive employees could be very distracting. Thus, outside of our suite of rooms, he was kept hooded at all times. The guests and servants were free to gaze at his nakedness, but he would not be free to return the looks. There were too many female submissives wearing the brief spa uniforms. And whereas it would have been delightfully entertaining to compare his modest penis to the massive phalli of the carefully selected male servants, such dalliances would have to wait for another time.

Our plan was to immediately introduce James to the notion of his alteration, inveigle him to sign the necessary documents, then let Alice conduct her business. In hastening the procedure, the period of time for recovery and adapting to his new status would be maximized.

So on the very next day after his morning caning, exercise and cleansing, Alice and I gave Laitai the morning off. We leashed and hooded James and took him to the spa’s operating room. He walked somewhat gingerly as Laitai had ever so lightly practiced some bastinado, but in time we arrived and upon entering removed his hood.

The room was standard. Bright white walls. Tiled floor. Stainless steel sinks, counter tops and cabinets. It was the special operating chair that was noticeable and observing James’ reaction to it would forever become a memorable moment. The device is quite similar to that used in obstetrics only the back is raised so that the patient is sitting almost upright. A short little seat supports just a portion of the buttocks, leaving the male genitals to hang in full view to both attending medical personnel and patient.

A little peculiar, but it was the restraints that most caught his attention. Heavy but comfortable straps, combined with the wrist cuffs in the back and adjustable boards designed to hold the legs in any desired position or angle, gave the initial viewer much to contemplate. Particularly with the realization that it would be his own organs that would soon dangle from the chairs edge.

Yes, James’ look could be compared to the condemned prisoner viewing the death chamber for the first time. The cognition of the permanence of the planned undertaking shakes the psyche and rattles the confidence. With the ineluctable straps, he realized there would be no going back. The mouse would be thoroughly restrained in the cat’s lair.

Alice and I smiled at each other, and I stifled a laugh when he noticeably gulped.

“Tomorrow, James. But tonight we shall have some fun.”

Was I dangling a cool jug of wine before a restrained man dying of thirst? Or was it best to highlight the positive?

James

The evening after visiting the operating room I was scared. The chair was ominous and despite my desire to please D, the straps and restraints were foreboding.

Ms. D seemed to sense my circumspection. What was this all about? A long train ride with two other women just for a simple operation?

When I asked for permission to speak, Ms. D anticipated my reluctance. She just smiled and called for Ms. Laitai.

“Harness him, Laitai. Alice and I will have dinner and return later. You know how to work the recorder.”

And that was it. Not a word could I express questioning her plans or the curious events of the past three days. Or the snickering female voices I heard in the hallways of the spa. Or this dour Chinese woman who so relentlessly caned my backside.

It seemed almost too easy for Laitai to suspend me. What kind of resort has strong eye-hooks imbedded in the ceilings and walls?

The static began. Over the past few days I learned not to fight the harness. It held me absolutely motionless and unless I pulled and tugged with futility, it was eerily comfortable.

Ms. Laitai attached the scrotal parachute and inserted a butt plug. I felt my penis rise in obedient response. And of course ruminations about Eve began to unfold...

After the last meeting, where I cautiously exited the side door with zucchini in hand, I never spoke to her again. The following day was graduation, where I watched Eve receive her diploma. Even in the clumsy, archaic cap and gown she looked enticing. I later noticed other parents wanted to photograph their children standing with Eve. As if Eve’s presence and proof of acquaintanceship was an imprimatur to their own son or daughter’s esteem.

If the truth be known...

Sometime after Eve, I walked up the aisle to receive my diploma. My well-reamed backside made walking rather difficult. Everyone assumed my labored stroll was the result of a sporting injury. As I returned, there sat Eve with wha

t most would describe as a bright smile. But I knew it to be a mocking look. Knowing the cause of my gingerly stride, she signaled with her look the enjoyment of having evidence of her dominant antics manifest itself in public. Given the opportunity to address me, I’m sure she would make some subtle reference to my complete degradation of the prior afternoon. But words were not necessary. And on the most memorable day of my young life, I flushed with a combined inner rage and frustrated embarrassment.

I never saw Eve again.