AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Dr. Reinhold takes a glass from the tray, gives the leash a playful shake and moves to join us standing about Big Fella. With the slight motion of the leash, the woman seems to jump, again commencing numerous ringing sounds. As the duo approach I begin to understand her reaction. Her genitalia have been zipped closed with a thin chain threaded through small rings penetrating her labia. The chain also passes through a clitoral ring. It is to this chain that the leash is attached which obviously serves to greatly exaggerate the feeling of any tension on the thin leather strand. This woman is one obedient female when so secured, I think to myself. She stares at Dr. Helga and tries to anticipate her every move in order to minimize the torment of tension on the leash.
As she crosses the room her buttocks come to view. Large. Perfectly rounded. A thick layer of flesh covering nicely molded fat. I have been told such a thick layer of epidermis over the gluteus maximus makes the cheeks very receptive to the cane. And sure enough, faint stripes can be detected.
“I brought Imelda for coffee later.”
Imelda is now standing close by and having finished examining her more meretricious parts, my attention turns to the head and face.
As stated, she is hairless but has been incredibly depilated to the point where her eyebrows have been removed. The affect is that Imelda appears to be a sordid ball of soft flesh which has been randomly pierced and penetrated with rings and attached bells. She is Dr. Helga’s pin cushion.
Lady Constance reaches out and pinches one of her pencil point nipples in greeting.
“Hello, Imelda. I see your hormones are working nicely.”
Is it my imagination or did Lady Constance’s fingers become moistened with her firm touch?
The conversation returns to Big Fella and Dr. Helga expresses similar comments about his fine conditioning. At that point, Jasmine enters and Botana uses the diversion to excuse herself.
The large black native woman is stunning in a simple skin-tight white halter-top with a matching short white skirt ending at mid thigh. Her stomach is exposed and the impressive ripple of abdominal muscles accentuates her every move. Nipples point through the thin material of the halter. Her skirt likewise highlights the sensual crack between her buttocks and the viewer is very much aware of her feminine power. Jasmine deftly snares a glass of wine before the porter can properly position himself to serve her. She also joins us and a pleasant discussion ensues.
During our prandial talk, Lady Constance holds her glass of wine in her right hand and casually works Big Fella with her left. She massages the testicles, lifts the scrotal sac and gives it a tug, then slips her hand well under and manipulates the perineum.
Big Fella emits an occasional moan, spasms a bit when a gonad receives a particularly aggressive pinch, and becomes amazingly erect considering the impeding band worn around the frenulum. As I watch, I conclude that experienced males have some way of mentally postponing full erection and thus the accompanying pain from the band’s teeth. And it seems that Lady Constance is cognizant of this acquired discipline. Therefore an interesting game appears to unfold while we talk. Big Fella very much enjoying the exquisite touch of his mistress yet mentally laboring to avoid full tumescence vs. the hand of Lady Constance...,working every known male erogenous zone in attempting to bring on the full erection which will make Big Fella cringe and writhe with the torment of the nasty penis band.
Finally, as expected, Big Fella cries out and somehow wriggles his hips away from the devious feminine hand despite his restraining glove being well secured to the eye-hook.
Lady Constance laughs.
“Still a lot of life left in him,” she casually informs her dinner guests.
“Here, Big Fella.”
Our hostess slips the left strap of her dress from her shoulder. This exposes her breast. Firm, tanned, magnificently proportioned.
She puts down her wineglass and guides his hooded head downward. Big Fella struggles. With his years of serving Lady Constance, he knows what treat awaits. But the single glove secures his arms and elbows high on the wall, and bowing his head requires the slow and painful stretching of numerous tendons and ligaments.
“Come on now,” coos Lady Constance, and finally his lips and tongue meet the soft, warm flesh of her mammary. He indulges, first licking, then drawing the nipple into his mouth as best as his craned neck and painfully gloved arms will allow.
Jasmine and Dr. Helga laugh. Big Fella’s efforts appear to be that of a male who, nearly dying of thirst, is finally afforded a drop of water placed just beyond his reach.
“Such a good boy. You know Doctor, you’re going to need a pony boy over the next few days. Big Fella can take you about the island as well as any of my younger steeds. And he won’t require much encouragement.”
‘Encouragement’ being Lady Constance’s euphemism for strokes of the whip. I nod and silently sip more wine. This helpless, suckling male is huge and indeed well muscled, I think to myself. Therefore he is certainly physically capable of pulling one of the small vehicles. Mentally, he appears eager to serve. And Lady Constance has not only suggested that I travel about the island unescorted, I would in fact prefer it. I have already concluded that to interview some of these most interesting Bagandan women without the overbearing presence of Lady Constance is a necessity for my paper.
My curiosity is provoked as to just how old Big Fella is. But with the hood and the hairless torso, it is difficult to judge his age. Deep down I was looking forward to working one of these human ponies into a good sweat and I hope he is not so old that it will be detrimental to his health.
Lady Constance curtails Big Fella’s oral homage by summarily slipping the strap back over her shoulder. More conversation, more wine and the center of attention moves from the naked bound human pony. The group strays toward the center of the room and minutes later when I look over my shoulder, I see Big Fella dutifully remaining erect, standing on his toes in as comfortable a position as he can find. He remains absolutely motionless.
Motamba emerges from the kitchen and announces dinner will be slightly delayed. Lady Constance appears unfazed, the wine apparently affecting her normal insistence on punctuality.
“The stables, Doctor? There isn’t much time but I want to check on my team. You can revisit again tomorrow at your leisure.”
Although she has posed the short trip as a question, I realize that on Constancia her whims are more akin to commands.
We take full glasses. Dr. Helga and Jasmine elect to stay behind.
After a brief walk through the pleasant night air, we arrive at a building set into a hill to the side of the house. The back of the low structure abuts high ground. The front opens to a level area, which has obviously been filled from the sand and coral excavated for the building. Being located on a down slope makes the stable invisible from the house, although when standing at the far edge of the level corral area, one can look back up the hill and see hints of Estovia through the thick shrubbery.
Dim lights frame the stable building and it appears to be very wide. A woman greets us at the entrance to the far right side. I am introduced to Sumani, stable mistress and mother of Botana.
