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The door opens. Light comes by way of a narrow beam. Whomever enters is unknown, not to be viewed. A dark thick cloth blinds, covering the eyes, grazing the sore flesh of 128’s tattooed forehead.
Gloved hands work open her mouth. Fingers pinch closed her nostrils. The ear pieces click. A hiss is followed by a voice... male.
“Open. Some surgery for you... minor for now.”
128 opens... in obedient compliance... but also to breathe. Metal is forced into her mouth, wedging between her teeth. She knows, having purchased a molt gag during one of her long and expensive kinky shopping sprees. Used as a D/s toy in her apartment dungeon, the reality frightens as the device is adjusted to part further her lips, mouth to be opened distressingly wide.
What is to be done? What is happening?
Once again her tongue is pinched, pulled outward, the tip seeming to painfully touch her nose
“This will help you suck cocks... among other things. Another oral slut for the members of Nusquam, ha, ha, ha.”
With the gruff laughter, 128 feels a sharp instance of pain... under her tongue... an incision. Just as the nurse prognosticated, her mouth is to be altered, her oral appendage to be transformed. As she next feels the pin pricks of tiny sutures, there is nothing she can do but lie and cede her oral cavi
ty to... to... whom?
“I do dental work to make a living. But here I alter little cocksuckers gratis... so they can best be trained... and I can enjoy the benefits of my skills. You’ll soon be tasting me... and thanking me for the opportunity to serve.”
With that, suturing complete,128 feels the gloved fingers plummet. Into the depth of her throat, the tips diddle and knead, seemingly in amusement as she gags... and gags... and gags.
“Ha, ha, ha. You’ll soon be taking the biggest and longest, gliding in and out, feeling hot spunk spurt into your gullet. They all learn to relish it... as will you.”
Coughing, spittle splattering, the fingers finally retreat, leaving 128 struggling to calm the desperate reactions of her invaded throat. There is more distress as the flashlight extinguishes, the blinding dark cloth is removed yet the molt gag remains in place.
Will she be left to choke on her own saliva?
Chapter Sixteen
Molt gag remaining, 128 learns to swallow with circumspection, her own juices bringing the sensation of drowning. It aggravates, adding to the displeasure of the deluge of burning urine. But the voice comes not, and 128 for now is relieved of the gut wrenching shocks of discipline.
In the dark nothingness, the tender care of Nurse Kelly comes to mind. She needs to be bathed. She pines for the purifying whisks of her straight razor. And to be masturbated! The hands and fingers found to be sublime!
The aftercare was worth all the pain and suffering. She would gladly ride the horse again, submit to the many searing hot needles, endure another caning just to be under the knowing woman’s soothing ministrations.
‘I need to go back,’ come silent words of remorse. ‘128 needs to go back,’ she corrects her own thoughts. But to what? There is nothing to which to return... no home, no money, no job. And in avoiding poverty, there would be need for employment... and that would mandate she be presentable. How does she explain the numerals 1...2...8? Large and black where all are to see and question.
She puts aside further musings... she must put aside further musings. Desire... her desires... are now moot. She will drink what and when commanded... eat what and when commanded... urinate when commanded... defecate when commanded... sleep when commanded. She can only speculate on other demands... the dental work no doubt auguring fellatio.
The monotony finally breaks with the opening of the door. The room illuminates. A woman enters. The ear pieces hiss.128 hears a voice... a woman’s voice. It is mature, yet timid, faltering. And when the woman finally steps into view, 128 is surprised.
“45 is present, 128. Here for training,” a lisping voice greets.
A hum and grunt must serve to greet as the molt gag obviates any verbal offering. Then 128 stares.
45 appears to be in her forties, though in her bald nakedness age is difficult to determine. There is a stainless steel neck collar with matching bands of steel circling the wrists, ankles, thighs above the knees, biceps at the elbows. The woman is completely defoliated, mons, head and eyebrows. And in replicating 128’s bizarre look, the numerals 4 and 5 adorn her forehead... large and black.
In the woman’s right hand is a squeezable plastic bottle. In the left a huge dildo, appearing soft and flexible, its color matching the bottle.
“Your fellatio training is to begin. Having sucked off more stiffness than any other, 45 trains, the pump house avoided... for now,” the woman’s enunciation strained.
As the naked form steps proximate, 128 notes the woman uses not pronouns, just as the voice has been so firmly been instructing. No ‘I’... no ‘me’. The woman is a number... as is 128.
“128 will need to control the gag reflex first. Deep throating is mandatory here. Choking considered to be insulting. Water is to be taken, there is to be a pause, the liquid not to be swallowed until the command is given.”
The bottle is positioned, directed at the yawning mouth of 128. Squeezed, there comes a slight but forceful squirt. The woman teasingly directs it about the inside of the mouth, tantalizing, deliberately attempting to trigger what is prohibited... swallowing, possibly choking. For 128 the drowning sensation returns as her mouth fills. She also tastes saltiness and realizes... thirst quenching pure fresh water may always be denied. It is Nusquam.
In watching 128 struggle, the woman smiles. 128 is shocked to see that she is toothless, her fellatio training undoubtedly harsh... and thorough.
