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He responds with more slurred speech. I ignore whatever he is asking.
“I’m going to want you to be very still. We need to scan you. If you move I will make it painful for you.”
I emphasize my point by squeezing his right testicle with a gloved hand. Most women don’t fully understand the level of pain that can be applied there without true damage. Unfortunately for Mr. Dalton, I do. So I squeeze most firmly. Even in his stupor the pain ‘bleeds’ through and he reacts with a yelp. My message is received.
I slide out the hollow stainless steel tube, which has served to catheterize him during his trip. A standard flexible Teflon coated tube would have sufficed. But the stiff steel sends a delicious message to the subordinate male...that a dominant woman will insert whatever she pleases, wherever she pleases and whenever she pleases.
“This will sting, Mr. Dalton.”
Next comes my favorite. I’ll want him completely erect for the scan. If Mrs. Dalton decides to have him banded, the precise measurements of his turgid manhood will be paramount. So a syringe of nitric oxide will do the trick, opening the blood vessels and forcing the erectile chambers to engorge. In many ways, we understand the male erection better than men, and I have fun creating ‘diamond cutters’, in the male vernacular. It’s a phenomenon we’ve researched very thoroughly on Constancia Island through the extensive medical explorations of my mother, Dr. Emily Reinhold. Though the injected nitric oxide dissipates quickly, it begins a cascade of reactions. The flooded erectile chambers block the vessels, which would normally drain the penis of blood. The male anatomical solution to the constriction is to release more internally developed nitric oxide which, instead of permitting release, further engorges the erectile chambers and causes more tumescence. With the effect of the Thorazine inhibiting certain natural defensive reactions, Mr. Dalton will have a greater than normal difficulty controlling his erection. It will remain curiously hard for hours...as noted, hard enough to cut diamonds.
Mr. Dalton feels little ‘bee stings’ as I callously inject his penis and watch it rise. I go way beyond the recommended dosage. For the first time ever, he will regret having an erection. The cascade caused by the nitric oxide will not permit flaccidity and it will feel as though the sensitive tip will explode. With the Thorazine it is a most effective way to get him to stand for me.
He begins to cringe with a degree of stiffness he has never before experienced. I apply one more milliliter then step back. It’s a most amusing contrast seeing the incredibly stiff penis stand atop a supine languishing, hairless and otherwise limp body. The Thorazine will deny him the energy to stroke it. And within a minute or two he won’t want to...the inflamed tip throbbing with the sensitivity of a badly stubbed big toe.
Even after years and years of working the male organ I still feel a sexual twinge in having it completely under my power.
I call for Naomi. She displays the provocative smile of the Dominant woman in gazing at Mr. Dalton’s forced erectness. But she has seen many and quickly returns her thoughts to business. She assists me in wheeling Mr. Dalton into the imaging room. I remind him to remain motionless with another squeeze, this time to his left gonad. He does. He tries to be such a good boy.
While the imaging machine works, I look to the duty rooster to see who will be Mr. Dalton’s handler. The name ‘Luana’ heads the rotation. I smile. The little minx has finally become of age and Mr. Dalton will be her first charge as a full time handler. Though quite young she will be most imposing.
On Constancia Island all males are subordinate. Since there are no cars or other motorized vehicles, one either walks or uses the services of the ubiquitous pony boys. And for food, the Island’s farm produces all the fruits and vegetables required for the local population, grown through the toils of naked well-worked males. I cannot describe how satisfying it is to eat an overly ripe pineapple, which has been harvested and delivered by way of the sweat and anguish of a naked male beast pulling an ox cart. So Mr. Dalton will find himself well worked and constantly tormented. The permanent male ‘residents’ are owned by Lady Constance and used as servants and beasts of burden. The males visiting for training and indoctrination may likewise be used depending on the type of humiliation and subjugation required for their transformation. Thus, there are many activities in which Mr. Dalton can be immersed.
And it’s all possible due to Lady Constance’s prescient great-grandmother who years ago, when the Island was first developed for habitation, took the time to travel to Africa and recruit the services of the Bagandan people. The descendants have lived on the Island ever since and for decade
s have assisted in training, controlling and tormenting the male.
In African lore, the Bagandas were noted for stretching various parts of their anatomy. On females it was most common to stretch the inner labia since large, exposed lips were considered symbolic of a very highly sexed woman. On inferior males it was common to stretch the scrotal sac. A very long, low hanging scrotal sac was deemed humiliating, and recalcitrant tribe members were thus altered.
This tradition of stretching expanded over the centuries and the tribe developed exotic lotions and methods for slowly and systematically stretching the skin of nubile daughters so they could attract the best husbands and of young males to emasculate for behavior modification purposes. The sophisticated knowledge acquired by the Baganda, which remains as a tribal secret to this day, lies in stretching the flesh in such a manner so that no scar tissue forms, which would tend to desensitize and deform the stretched area. Thus, if the labia are stretched too far too fast, the female loses sensitivity and a degree of sexual desire. In the male, an abbreviated stretching process causes scarring, which would detract from the desired sensual view of smooth, pink flesh.
Another unusual facet of the Bagandan culture was their relationship with neighboring villages. Whereas the history of Africa is replete with countless wars and battles among bordering African cultures, the Bagandas were for the most part peaceful. There was little motivation to expand their territory, but when attacked, they were noted for their most brutal retaliations.
But what particularly demotivated opposing warriors was the treatment of prisoners by the Baganda. The possibility of being captured by the Baganda made potential attackers very reluctant to engage in hostility, and eventually no opposing leader could muster the needed warriors to stage an attack. For it was well known that all prisoners were turned over to the Bagandan women, who, it was suggested by numerous accounts, practiced their stretching skills with zeal and without mercy. Also over the years, the younger women were trained by their elders to have a complete disdain for non-Bagandan males, which became ingrained into their psyche. Nineteenth century explorers who when encountering the tribal village deep in the African jungle, observed captured natives being treated as beasts of burden by the Bagandan women, pulling carts and plows, with various anatomical parts modified not only for amusement, but to facilitate restraint.
So the late Baroness Esterhoven learned of the tribe and hired them...en mass. And I have been amazed with their talents and the zeal with which they use such.
Luana is fourth generation. A diminutive girl in her late teens, she has been trained since childhood to handle naked subordinate males...first having them work the fields, helping her mother guide the plows pulled by sweating, well whipped human beasts, and later working in the stables...watering, washing and tacking the various pony boys. With one of Lady Constance’s rules being that feminine assistance is required for all bladder relief, there is probably not a penis on the Island that Luana has not handled. I smile with the thought of such a young girl being so well trained and acclimated to manipulating naked males and handling with impunity the most intimate parts of their anatomy.
As my watchful eye tracks the gauges and computer screen monitoring Mr. Dalton’s scanning I think...yes, Mr. Dalton will find his stay to be most challenging. He will leave here quite modified...mentally and physically.
“Contact Luana, Naomi. Tell her that her charge will be ready in an hour. I suspect she’ll enjoy greeting him while he’s still erect.”
Naomi giggles girlishly. Our thoughts are in parallel. The thirty-ish Mr. Dalton will be quite embarrassed in being presented to his teenaged handler in such a forcibly aroused state.
Chapter Seven
Mrs. Dalton
I arise Thursday morning with no intention of going to the office. The hours of plunging the huge phallus into Ted’s backside has tired me. The orgasms were countless.
I finally drag myself out of bed and while making coffee retrieve the newspaper. Propped against the apartment door is a package, evidently forwarded by the doorman. A simple return address rubber stamped on the upper left corner indicates it is from the ASBM, the acronym for the American Society for Behavior Modification. There are no other markings except my name.
The newspaper can wait. I sit at the kitchen table and open the plainly wrapped package. It has been hand delivered and is intriguing in its relative anonymity.
I sip my coffee and inspect.
Inside is a catalogue accompanied by a cover letter and a three page form to be completed. Normally one would find such paperwork to be burdensome. But as I randomly open the catalogue, I know the collection of photos, diagrams, and the form itself will have my attention for most of the morning.
