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When Mr. Dalton awakes, he will henceforth need to squat to urinate.
With an opening made between his rectum and scrotum, the flow of urine will exit between his thighs. Diverting the muscles is intricate but it is the only way he will control his bladder. We do not want an incontinent Mr. Dalton.
In diverting the urethra I have essentially made the penis functionally useless. Going forward even the ejaculatory process will be curtailed, his sperm feebly dribbling out between his thighs. There will be no more climactic relief for Mr. Dalton. When aroused, the ampullar glands will release but with very little sensation, and with the flow of sperm flowing out my new opening and never reaching the prostate. The prostatic fluid will flow backwards and also exit the new opening. The overall result of any physical manipulation of the penis will be a very limited sensation of pleasure. No matter the level of stimulation, Mr. Dalton will obtain very little gratification through sex...intercourse or masturbation.
So with the tube of male flesh not needed for bodily functions, it becomes an ornament...for Mrs. Dalton. And she wants it stiff...permanently.
I slide a narrow cylinder of rubber into Mr. Dalton’s penis. It is firm but somewhat malleable. The surface is not smooth. It is covered with little rubber barbs shaped like those at the end of a fishhook. It slides inward very easily. But if I pull outwards, the barbs catch the very sensitive pink lining of the urethra making it painfully impossible to remove. Another feature is the small bulbous tip, which is measured to exactly reside in the prostate gland when fully inserted. This also inhibits removal and has the devious effect of constantly inflaming the prostate gland.
Uncomfortable, yes, but Mr. Dalton will become accustomed to it over time. And he will also be very proud of his permanent erection though when locked to his waistband it will be totally under the control of Mrs. Dalton.
The curious thing about the modifications Mrs. Dalton has selected is that the erectile chambers of the penis are untouched. Thus with stimulation the penis will still engorge and I envision some very interesting parties and other gatherings where a stripped down Mr. Dalton will be displaying an organ rendered useless for all functions except serving as a barometer for
the level of his arousal...or the level of frustration, as he will come to learn.
The process of tumescence, the cascade of internally generated chemical compounds, which serve to restrict the flow of blood from the penis, will still occur. And the thin, artificially stiffened phallus will slowly plump...providing much amusement I am sure.
As I conclude, Nurse Naomi gently locks Mr. Dalton’s Prince Albert ring to his waistband. For all I know it may never again be released. Other than for the amusement of the Dominant female, there is no need to ever unlock it.
A catheter tube temporarily drains the bladder while my new opening heals. Mr. Dalton will hang in suspension for a few more days. Then when physically able, he will spend a few weeks at Estovia, Lady Constance’s home. There he will learn service under Motamba, Lady Constance’s head housekeeper and major domo. He will become Constancia Island’s newest maid.
In being trained as a flight attendant, that process shouldn’t be too difficult. It’s teaching him to apply his own make up and walk in heels that will probably take time.
As I remove my latex gloves, Nurse Jasmine enters. Though Mr. Dalton is still unconscious, she will use her superior strength and with Nurse Naomi collect him from the operating table and place him back into the mobile suspension apparatus.
Just another morning’s work completed, I think to myself in satisfaction. Sometimes altering the male to assure a lifetime of sexual frustration is more enjoyable than obviating all sexual desire through outright castration.
Mr. Dalton will forever pine for the orgasm he can no longer achieve.
Chapter Thirty Two
Mrs. Dalton
My gigolo Anthony orally works to pay homage to the inside of my thigh. I stand over him with a crop assuring that his expensive but rather unskilled tongue continues its endeavors. For what I pay, I want the most fervent of attention.
Having just showered, I have a towel wrapped about my torso. When Anthony’s pink and wet appendage encroaches my pubes, barely covered from sight by the hem of the large bath towel, I will blindfold him and sit on his face. He’s a good fuck but I am tired from an afternoon of play and therefore my desire for physical activity is limited.
The doorman lies firmly bound in the den. I lured him to the apartment and finally wreaked my revenge for that episode with Ted and the pro Dom. It seems Mr. Doorman has done worse than serve as a lookout for philandering husbands. I caught him taking a bit of mail. Obviously he’s got connections with unsavory persons who can derive economic benefit from stolen checks and credit cards. I briefly confronted him and his stunned look confirmed my suspicion. He appeared ready to bolt out the front door of the building when I calmed him by suggesting we have a little ‘talk’ in my apartment when his shift ended.
He arrived promptly. Since he knows I am an attorney he had every reason to accept my bluff about being an acquaintance of the assistant prosecutor. He was most cooperative in removing his clothing after hearing me explain that mail theft was a Federal offense...five years with no such thing as parole in the Federal system. He let me apply the bonds...rather tightly. And he so politely tried to stifle his plaintive cries as I flailed away at those tender white hillocks. I will have to purchase a more severe instrument of correction for future ‘talks’.
The lengthy session of flagellation aroused me and therefore I decided to leave him there when Anthony arrived for his regularly scheduled late Saturday afternoon visit...
Anthony’s tongue finds the lower reaches of my outer labia. I retrieve the blindfold and secure it around his head. I snap my fingers.
“On the bed.”
I nip his posterior with the crop and he lurches while crawling in the general vicinity of the bed. I hear my computer in the den.
“You have mail,” it rhythmically intones.
Though the doorman lies in the middle of the den floor, there is plenty of space. The room is actually a capacious second bedroom converted to a home office. So I grab another blindfold and guide my gigolo, ‘Mr. Big Dick, Tenuous Tongue’, to where I can read my mail.
While he crawls I amuse by slapping those free swinging, egg sized testicles with the crop. Then a thought occurs that will make for a very memorable afternoon for my conniving mail thief visitor. He’s probably extremely homophobic like most guys. And Anthony goes both ways...matter of fact every way known...for the right price.
So before applying the blindfold to the struggling, well-bound guest I have my gigolo fellate him while I check the mail. As expected, my naked flagellant is delightfully appalled as my equally naked toy goes down on him, his tongue lapping everywhere in attempting to find his penis.
“I don’t think you’ll get it as nicely in Danbury penitentiary,” I snort with a sardonic laugh.
