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“The mob boys specified ‘no’. Wanted to send a message.”
Kelly marvels at the relative stillness. Despite the aggravation of having long thin spikes thrust vertically through the pectoral muscles of the chest and gluteus maximus muscles of the buttocks... cables attached to suspend the nude male some six inches above the office floor... the mob’s miscreant moves not. Curious how quickly they learn that, Kelly thinks to herself. Despite the anguish, struggling against the horrific bonds only brings mind boggling muscle reaction... severe cramping. Thus those spiked and hung just idly dangle in suspension... and dangle and dangle... awaiting the mercy of a nearby foot stool.
Augmenting the mental torment... the hands, feet and limbs are free to move about... not tethered. Thus if the suspended form so chooses, he can kick and flail... to no avail other than to turn the otherwise slow barely tolerable torture into instant excruciating pain.
The spikes of stainless steel are in the shape of an inverted ‘T’, not to pull away despite supporting the entire body weight. With eyelets welded to the top and cables attached, such are threaded up and under the steel neck collar to offer balance, the form not to topple. And then there is the somatic reaction, the so termed dead man’s dance, tension in the spinal column spurring the male propensity to harden... erection most prominently displayed for the amusement of the Director, Kelly Devers and the form’s former creditors... his mob friends... soon to receive a texted photo.
“I always found the protocol to be... so wickedly appealing... the buttocks and male breasts remaining nicely presented for the sjambok. How long?” Kelly inquires placing her coffee cup on the Director’s desk to arise.
“He’ll take two to three hours per day before he faints.”
“No, I mean for how long will he be your potted plant?” Kelly stepping to stand before the impressively helpless male nakedness.
“Oh. I suppose I’ll tire of him in a few weeks. Then I’ll have him worked in the pump house.”
“Good morning 156. You’re nicely erect for me,” Kelly soothingly teases, a knowing hand extending to palm the hanging testicles.
There comes a menacing growl. An arm moves in an attempt to strike. The clenched fist harmlessly drops as the motion, though slight, quickly begins the cascade of agonizing muscle cramps. Feet kick... arms thrash, bringing more spasms. Hurting himself, the growl quickly transforms to pitiful grunts of pain as the dangling form strains to calm itself.
Though near, Kelly smiles, fearl
essly standing her ground, the attempted blow futile and amusing.
“Feisty. I’d like to have time with him before he’s relegated to the pump house. He’s to be neutered or labor intact?”
“The girls can work him harder, get more production, if he’s intact.”
“Then I’ll deglove him for you. It’s been a while and altering permanently always brings a thrill. Can he speak?”
“No. I had his vocal cords sutured. I want to watch him suffer... not listen to him beg.”
Chapter Forty-Two
“You got a little hard last night, Robert. I’m going to suggest that the Director increase your estrogen.”
Kelly Devers lounges, sitting upright, back resting on the plush pillows of the sizable double bed of cabin 10, the light covering sheets strewn aside, pushed away in the throes of lusty copulation... if taking a boy anally can be so termed.
An effeminate Robert approaches, the words bringing gloom. Handing Miss Kelly morning coffee, he meekly protests.
“Please don’t do that Miss Kelly.”
The plea brings a smile. Basking in the exhilaration of sodomizing a boy she castrated, the sense of power enthuses.
“Even a partial erection can bring vestiges of male pride, Robert. You know that’s not best for you. You need complete transformation, your psyche as well. And I think you enjoyed the penetration as much as me. Ceding to a woman somewhat excites a girly boy like you. And your prostate needed attention. You oozed like a fountain. Before going to the office, wash both the Feeldoe and the sheets.”
Her words are a command. He nods, looking with admiration into the face of she who snipped, his envy for her determination and resolve apparent.
The subjugant Robert, granted status akin to a prison trusty, has been absolved of most of Nusquam’s drudgery. Thus he has privileges... freedom of movement when not serving as the Director’s assistant most appreciated.
Coffee cup in one hand, Kelly reaches to her right, fingers tweaking the puffy left nipple of the feminized castrate. Robert has the breasts of a pubescent girl, testosterone depleted, estrogen working to trigger male production of prolactin.
“You’re cute, Robert. Nice and plump.”
The hand moves upwards, fingers hooking the steel neck collar. She pulls drawing the nakedness onto the bed, her strength easily overpowering he who is given to succumb.
“Let’s see if that tongue work of yours has improved,” guiding the bald head between thighs and upturned knees.
Robert knows his place... his duty. Noted for fellating the office guests of the Director, he deems performing cunnilingus on the woman who mastered him to be an honored privilege.
