Chapter Thirty One - Miss Ashley Duval
There’s a heady sense of power in sitting astride a tall stallion, feeling the beast’s muscling between your thighs, sensing the well trained animal obsequiously respond to the slightest tug on the reins or spur of the boots.
But to so repose while the well endowed naked male is slowly stroked to full tumescence brings a sense of sexual power. I feel the resulting moisture within my jodhpurs as Lotta’s firm grip brings Chip to full stand and the native islanders gather about the cage to watch.
“Can you keep time, Ashley? Call out the fifteen minute mark after release,” Aunt Meredith commands.
Big Sam stands next to the cage door. Chip, most likely experiencing deja vu from his circumcision escapade two summers before, kneels on all fours. Having had his penis stroked as if being milked like a cow’s udder, he appears to be a sprinter waiting in the starting blocks. He knows not to touch himself with the masturbation mittens, learning well that the sharp barbs will not foster satiation, only abrasion. Lotta coats her right index finger with blazing hot pepper oil then slips it between his cheeks. He lurches in feeling the initial coolness of the oil, knowing that it will soon bring searing pain. Aunt Meredith smiles with his reaction. I know she is eager to begin the hunt, but also enjoys pausing to maximize Chip’s anguish.
When the prey begins to fidget in earnest, Aunt Meredith nods to Big Sam.
“Release him,” are her simple words as Big Sam flings open the cage door.
As I observed with every hunt, Chip dashes from the cage like a scared rabbit, his standing penis bringing laughter from the crowd of islanders.
For me it is an amazing sight, seeing Chip’s organ for the first time while he is in an upright position. It appears to rise to his chest and I am given to ask him to pose while I can better take in the humbling display.
But Chip’s feet move quickly to a trail leading into the dense shrubbery.
“Call it out at exactly fifteen minutes, Ashley, not before. There must be fairness in the hunt... otherwise it’s not good sport.”
I stare at my watch and at long last enunciate the words. We begin and I follow, surprised when Aunt Meredith brings her horse to a leisurely canter.
“We’ll let him run a bit. He’ll head for high ground. That’s instinctive. And we’ll most likely get there before him even with his head start.”
We do. My prescient aunt taking a direct path to an overlook. A copse shelters us from sight, yet we can survey much of the island. We wait in the patience that Aunt Meredith has developed over years and years of hunting the naked male. And as her eyes constantly scan the many acres of greenery below, Aunt Meredith begins a very subtle lecture, not overly pedantic, but informative for a girl approaching an important transition point in life.
“As I’ve suggested, Ashley, there’s something ingrained in the male psyche about lying, cheating, stealing. But there’s also a need to express remorse, engage in acts of contrition. An experienced woman can turn that to advantage. Extract a toll for the mendacity, prey on the need for the male to be penitent.
“And of course I’m referring to a woman’s needs... sexual needs. Duval women prefer to be on top, demand really, Ashley. I’m sure by now you’ve encountered your genetic predisposition during jaunts in the bedroom. So in handling the male you should be aware of certain male tendencies and use such to your advantage, to gain your preferred position, achieve your desired status.
“Chip here is offering the ultimate in acts of contrition. It seems since I cut him two summers ago he’s been a naughty boy. His impotence has brought deviance, turned him into a sexual predator. Yes, whenever I receive the challenge of the second wager I do full investigations. Chip is one step ahead of the law and is suspected in a bizarre sexual assault. Seems he will need money for legal defense, and possible settlement.”
Aunt Meredith curtails her story, her sharp eye noticing movement in the brush. She points to a spot a few hundred yards below. I of course see nothing.
“He’s coming toward us. Serendipitous... but we’ll need quiet.”
Aunt Meredith unsheathes her dart gun and inspects the canister laden with curare. It has been mere hours into Chip’s twenty-four hour challenge. I almost hope he turns opposite and saunters off, leaving Aunt Meredith and me to more feminine discourse. Her words are sagacious. But he does not, awkwardly stumbling from the thick brush into the small clearing where Aunt Meredith and I await. He freezes, glances in fear at Aunt Meredith’s smiling face then turns to run. It is a mistake, for in exposing his buttocks, Aunt Meredith has direct line of fire to the preferred area for the dart. With the sound of a zing and a whoosh, the meaty and muscular flesh is jabbed. Chip is brought down, his legs instantly turning to rubber.
“It’s just as well, Ashley. Though early in the day, harvesting my prize will take some time.”
Aunt Meredith directs her horse to stand next to the prostrate and seemingly lifeless form. Chip breathes but cannot move, suggesting the dosage of muscle relaxing drug is perfect.
A saddle bag is opened. Rope and cords are extracted. A proud Aunt Meredith dismounts to stand over her vanquished prey.
“Not much of a challenge, Chip, considering it’s your second outing,” Aunt Meredith admonishes knowing that, though immobile, Chip can hear everything.
She separates his legs, pulling apart his feet. There lies Chip’s enormous penis with a ball sac seemingly ripe with pent up sperm. The testicles are huge, not normally noticed by the female observer due to the prominence of the lengthy manhood.
“Chip will be staying here for a few days after harvest, Ashley. You seem to have developed an affinity for him. Perhaps you’d like him to serve? Without the pecuniary prize he expected to earn today, he’ll have a trying time engaging attorneys upon his return to the states. Thus I suspect his eagerness to depart and face his legal difficulties will be tempered.”
While Aunt Meredith speaks she kneels between Chip’s thighs. I watch in both amusement and horror as she encircles the base of his scrotum with a strand of thin steel wire. She loops a slip knot then secures the end of the wire to a long segment of doubled rope. She stands, looks about and locates a segment of log.
“This will take some time but the results can be worth every second expended.”
The log is rolled and with great effort propped under Chip’s thighs. One length of the doubled rope is strung over a low hanging branch directly above. Then Aunt Meredith lifts Chip’s feet well off the ground and holding them in the air wraps the one end of the rope around and around his ankles. Next, the free end of the rope is likewise strung over the branch and Aunt Meredith pulls it somewhat taught. She lifts his arms over his shoulder blades to wrap the rope about his wrists. In pulling, Chip’s large testicles rise between his thighs to protrude between his cheeks and dangle in the air.
Such a wicked and devious form of restraint... a single length of rope is attached to his ankles, strung over the branch, tensions the wire about his balls then runs again over the branch where it ends wrapped about his wrists. Quite an elaborate hogtie.
“And now we wait for the curare to dissipate,” Aunt Meredith pridefully announces in stepping back to survey her prey.
With wrists and ankles held in the air and Chip’s thighs resting on the log, his torso is bent backwards to form a large letter ‘U’. The strand of wire holding up his testicles somewhat tightens with the tension on the rope. Aunt Meredith tests the tautness and smiles in satisfaction.
“As I was saying, Ashley, Chip here will most likely be imploring me for a new arrangement over the next few days. With you becoming of age, one in which a woman needs regularity in satiating hormonal urges, I think Chip will be seeking a new role and can be trained to fulfill it.”
I listen, not entirely sure of what Aunt Meredith proposes. But nothing she has suggested in the past has been to my detriment. So I nod in agreement, imagining that the next two months before returning to my senior yea
r in college may be of great fascination. I was correct.
Chapter Thirty Two - Miss Ashley Duval
My guests so enjoy watching Corky forcibly give up his long standing supply of sperm that their laughter brings my mind back to the present.
Mary’s dexterous fingers work within my Corky’s sphincter and as the resulting fluid streams down between his legs, the women are enthralled with the exhibition.
“It appears to be more vaginal discharge than ejaculate,” Pam utters in noting that Corky’s erection remains useless.
Yes, it’s the mere ornament that I intended it to be, I think to myself, pleased that my guests are entertained.
Corky gives me this beseeching look, the humiliation building to beyond even his level of tolerance. I just smile and lean back, the look returning my thoughts to Chip and the all too brief hunt of years ago.
Aunt Meredith’s elaborate hogtie was not without purpose. The slowly tightening strand of wire slowly deprived Chip’s scrotal sac of circulation. The bag of flesh began to turn red just as Chip began to move, the effect of the amazing curare having dispelled.
“Well, Chip, you’re going to lose them. You decide the timing.”
With that, Aunt Meredith rolled away the log holding up Chip’s thighs. He cried out as the weight of his own legs caused the rope to become more taut and thus tighten the loop of wire around his precious gonads.
Aunt Meredith sat down and cradled his head. She was surprisingly comforting in smoothing her hands over his face.
“Keep your feet and hands high Chip and save your testicles... for as long as you can last.”
I was not shocked to see Chip’s tears. A virile young male was slowly being castrated. And my amazingly insouciant aunt, she who so deftly created the hogtie, offered odd comfort. She seemed genuinely sympathetic.
“Or you can make it quick. Simply pull down with hands and feet. You’ll feel a sudden sharp pain as your nerves send one was last signal of warning, that those beautifully formed testicles are in danger, then you’ll feel nothing as the nerves and blood vessels are permanently crushed, ending your life as a man.”
Aunt Meredith softly caressed Chip’s head.
“He’s a fighter this one, Ashley. Look at him hold up his feet. But the effort is in vain. One way or the other the circulation will be cut off and the testicles will die. He’s slowly being emasculated. By my hand and before two women. You must feel such humiliation, Chip.
“Later I’ll remove the useless plums. Will it comfort you to know they’ll have a nice place in my collection, Chip?” she taunted with a laugh.
She tousled his hair and stood.
“Take off your jodhpurs, Ashley. There’s no need for you to be shy. Chip here will soon be neutered, turned into an asexual beast.”
I did of course, Aunt Meredith was one to be obeyed. I kept on my boots and blouse and soon stood naked from waist to boot tops.
“I’m going to offer you a reprieve, Chip. Not a long reprieve but you’ll remain intact for a little longer if you so choose.
“Sit, Ashley. Let Chip gaze at those young charms. He’s been coveting you in his cage for a week. Let him discover your taste. And I will alleviate your anguish, Chip. But just as long as Ashley cares to experience that tongue of yours, the appendage that seems to have gotten you in trouble with an underage girl.”
Aunt Meredith extended her hand to grasp the rope at Chip’s ankles, pulling it up to add slack. Chip sighed with the relief.
“Yes, Chip. I know about the charges. The parents of the girl won’t defy the authorities forever. There’s a good chance they’ve already had her sign the affidavit attesting to your oral assault. The police will be waiting for you should you decide to return. There’s no money to offer in settlement now. Today’s hunt was your last opportunity and you lost.”
Aunt Meredith cackled as I sat, exposing my trimmed pudendum to a man! My college sexual escapades had not been so explicit... groping about in darkened dormitory rooms with an equally unknowledgeable sex partner. There I was exposing myself, but doing so in such a controlling manner!
“Let me know if he displeases, Ashley. I’ll release my grip.”
Displease? Chip’s tongue began to lick where a girl most enjoys warm wetness. And I leaned back and rested on my elbows as for the first time in my life I received oral service from a male of experience. In Chip’s impotence, he had apparently learned exquisite cunnilingus. And with the physical pleasure came this overpowering sensation of control. I merely had to nod to Aunt Meredith and Chip would be returned to slowly neutering himself.
He licked with touching fervor, seeming to believe that an adequate performance would save his balls. Yet he was only exchanging time, remaining intact only so long as I was being pleasured by his tongue. And I felt no empathy, only the frisson of realizing that Aunt Meredith had finally awakened the Duval family proclivity once and for all. I relished the power and control!
My sighs turned to outright cries of pleasure and finally a forceful squeezing of my thighs. I climaxed paroxysmally. I could no longer remain propped on my elbows. I closed my eyes and slumped to lie supine, my pink and wet love nest remaining pressed into Chip’s face.
I heard a grunt, felt a waft of air on my outer labia and opened my eyes to see that a smiling Aunt Meredith has released Chip’s ankles. The air was Chip’s last breath as a male. Aunt Meredith leaned to inspect and pronounced the deed done.
“The nerves and blood vessels are crushed. He’s finished as a functioning man.”
I felt tears trickling on my thighs yet I joined Aunt Meredith in smiling. Chip’s tongue had worked so hard to save himself, and it was for naught.
My consciousness returns to see that Dr. Helga has moved to stand before Corky as Mary milks his prostate. Her hands lower to his chest. She caresses his nipples... palpating. It is not a sensual caress but one of examination and inspection.
“Very sentient,” she observes. “I’ll pierce the very tips, Ashley. Where the nipples have the most nerve endings. Most make the mistake of penetrating too deeply into the areola where there is less sensitivity. I’ll awaken Corky boy’s nipples, be assured of that.”
Once again Mary leans to observe the rate of flow of the male essence. The limited ooze of clear fluid suggests that Corky has been drained as with Harold and the copilot.
“He’s done,” she succinctly announces, ending an afternoon of divine feminine entertainment.
Between Corky’s thighs is a sizable area of wet sand. He’ll also sleep well. As Miranda arrives with another round of cocktails, the girl talk resumes. My mind lapses again.
Chapter Thirty Three - Miss Ashley Duval
Aunt Meredith kept Chip’s wrists tied behind his back and released him from his hogtie. The thin wire remained tightly wrapped about the base of his scrotum as she used the rope as a lead line, towing Chip back to the plantation house by his deadened gonads.
“No sense in letting the circulation return too soon,” she announced in assuring that Chip’s male organs were indeed dead.
But Aunt Meredith was correct, once the nerves are crushed the testicles are rendered useless, except of course as trophies to commemorate another successful hunt.
A tearful Chip was returned to the cage. Sometime early the next morning, Aunt Meredith with Lotta’s assistance, opened up his scrotum and slid out her prized plums. When I later entered the preparation room Chip was groggy from some form of anesthesia. A smiling Aunt Meredith was placing a jar in her trophy cabinet. Lotta was cleaning instruments. Chip’s scrotum was empty. Sutures directed one’s eyes to small incisions on the sides of his withered sac.
I noticed the masturbation mittens were gone.
“He’s yours, Ashley. You’ll find he’ll become more and more docile over the next few days. Mentally in a fog, a form of denial over his loss. But there will also be no more bizarre incidents with underage girls. Chip and I have come to an agreement. He’s staying on the island and I’ve e
ngaged attorneys to settle all matters concerning his sexual peccadilloes.”
Her commanding hand slipped into the cage and pinched Chip’s cheek.
“Isn’t that right, Chippie?” she mockingly inquired.
A detached Chip nodded, despondent as a result of his loss and having to completely capitulate to a woman.
“Lotta will help you, Ashley. There’s a protocol in handling castrates. And from now on it’s ‘Chippie’, our new pet.”
Aunt Meredith strolled out to leave me with Lotta who once again retrieved a bottle of lubricant.
“Well girl. You liked looking at it. Now it’s yours to do with as you wish,” Lotta laughingly proclaimed.
Yes, there was no need to deny sexual pleasure to those who could not achieve such, I suddenly realized.
“He’ll be able to get it up for a while. But it will be for your enjoyment not for his. I’ve got one last chore you can help me with and then he’s yours. And your aunt has suggested there are things you should learn.”
I watched in amazement as the docile and dazed Chippie sat in his cage while Lotta reached in and stroked his huge penis to a full stand.
“Got to make sure he’s drained. Sperm will reside in the seminary ducts and other vessels. Come now for Miss Ashley, Chippie. It’s going to be one of your last.”
The brown hand stroked with Chippie seeming not to notice. Lotta gave the organ a final stroke and twist and withdrew.
“Every woman has to learn to give a proper hand job,” she declared handing me the lubricant. “Just make sure it’s under your control, not his.”
And so that morning I received explicit instructions on controlling the male ejaculate. And to think that when Chippie finally exploded it would be one of his last, added a thrill I had never before experienced. Yes, the Duval penchant was further ingrained as I wrapped my hand about the thick shaft and followed Lotta’s counsel. Normally I would refrain from offering such one sided pleasure, engaging in such a seemingly condescending act. But knowing that it was one of Chippie’s last, and knowing that his little remaining ejaculate would be expended only under my control, so much reversed the sense of delight.
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