She resumes thrusting. The oversized muscles of her thighs and buttocks lift the lower half of naked male completely off the table and were it not for the heavy yoke, I believe Salina could carry the smaller male about the room impaled on the end of her phallus.
Finally, she slows. Satiated, she smiles and squeezes the flaccid, reddened penis. A final glob of white cream oozes forth and she steps back. A plopping sound signals the end to the penetration and Salina once again kicks number 15 lying below her feet.
“Clean,” is her abbreviated command. And she assists the quiet beast off the floor by grasping his ears and pulling upwards.
Lady Constance motions for us to depart. When I look back, 15 is kneeling before Salina and again obsequiously applying his tongue to the curiously crafted rubber phallus.
When we return to our chariot, our steeds are kneeling in rest. Lady Constance retrieves the water bottle and again lovingly waters her team. She also inspects the nipples and genitals for welts and open wounds. Finding none she diddles both to full erection and steps into the chariot. Next stop, the beach.
The ride is obviously all downhill to the ocean. The continuous decline causes the ponies to strain to slow the speeding chariot as gravity causes it to accelerate to speeds beyond the capabilities of their feet. This angers Lady Constance, who relishes the feel of the tropical wind blowing over her bare breasts. Thus any feeling of resistance to letting the chariot speed along earns nasty flicks to the penises.
The road levels for a stretch, then Lady Constance pulls the reins to the right. A more narrow downward sloping road causes the contest between the ponies and Lady Constance’s whip to resume.
Finally, a patch of deep blue appears, and we approach the leeward side of the island where the elevated land cuts off the steady breeze. This results in a scene of tropical paradise, with a patch of the Caribbean as blue and as smooth as I’ve seen. And when the road ends, the ponies’ feet reach sand..., pure, white and extremely fine. They begin to prance and Lady Constance smiles.
“They like the feeling of soft sand. I’ve run them quite a bit today. I’ll water them again and let them frolic a while. The medical building is just a little ways down the beach and from there it’s only a half mile back to Estovia.”
It’s some hundred yards to the water’s edge and the speed of the chariot slowly diminished as the wheels sink into the softness.
“Let’s walk a bit, Doctor. The chariot’s a little heavy for the sand.”
We step off accordingly. Lady Constance gathers the reins and walks ahead of her team, gently pulling as a reminder of her control. We continue to the water’s edge where very small waves lap the wet sand. She guides the team into the light surf until the water immerses their feet, then turns to the left. The wheels of the chariot splash a bit but the main body of the vehicle remains dry. About a mile or so down the beach, I see the man made jetties that form the entrance to the secluded cove where we docked. Nearby is a barely discernible building. It appears to be our destination.
“I trust you’re enjoying your tour, Doctor. The procedures performed at the medical building you may find a little harsh, but it is best for the males in the long run. Remember, most of our acquisitions have proven themselves to be too truculent even for the clinic’s training program. Therefore, our methods may appear Draconian, but I assure you the world is a better place for all because they are here and not among the general population.
“Of course some just have a size problem, but as you have seen, we can deal with that also.”
We pause and I gaze out across the sea as Lady Constance obtains the water bottle. There is no sight of land, boats or even an airplane. It’s as if the rest of the world has disappeared.
My hostess returns to the front of the team and once again squeezes fresh water into the mouths of the ponies. With the reins dangling, they are able to move their heads and utilize their freedom to bow down and nuzzle Lady Constance’s breasts. It would strike most observers as odd, these two giant males gently seeking to suckle the gorgeous breasts of the woman who has spent most of the afternoon whipping their genitals. But the abundance of hormones and the strict regimen of training and submission has its affect.
“There’ll be a hot sponge bath and massage for you two, tonight. Yes. And I’ll have Botana insert some nice plugs. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
She coos as if speaking to small children rather than huge adult males. But her words are readily accepted and appear to excite.
The water bottle is replaced. Lady Constance once again stoops and frees the two engorged penises from their abdominal piercings. She quickly flicks her fingers against the tip of the right, then the left and the shafts shrink in reaction to the sharp pain. It is once again time to urinate and the ponies dutifully respond in unison. This time relieving themselves into the ocean while Lady Constance playfully directs the flow.
We resume our journey. The reins are held low and close and Lady Constance further tantalizes her team by providing them with an unimpeded view of the smooth flesh of her rolling buttocks as she walks them through the surf.
Lady Constance is silent, enjoying the warmth and beauty as much as I am. After a few minutes she speaks, reflectively.
“You know, Doctor. Many of our acquisitions could use polishing. Once Dr. L----- concludes that a given male is unsaleable, she truncates his training. I’ve been very gracious in accepting some very belligerent youths, but there are only so many sets of legs needed in the power plant. I could use more domestic help and that requires a certain degree of submissive savoir-faire. The porters are like puppies. Harmless and somewhat amusing but not able to fulfill all the duties I demand. I’d like to have a Ming in every bedroom, for example. But I ask myself why I should pay a retail price in obtaining them. I have the physical facilities here and have been considering my own program. I have a connection with the juvenile courts in New York City, which can provide an endless supply of candidates. And you’d be amazed at the acquaintances I’ve made among a group of dominant female probation officers, another source of supply. Last winter they spent two weeks here on vacation. I had some very worn out pony boys afterwards. They all seemed to have an affinity for cropping the testicles...”
She pauses and I contemplate where she is leading with these revelations.
“And you seem to be enjoying yourself...”
Another pause as we near the medical facility.
“Perhaps you may want to consider a more formal relationship. Your background is perfect for the training program I envision. I can pay you well. Your time could be split with the university. There’s plenty of room to stay at Estovia. Or I will have a house built for you. The eastern end of the island is completely uninhabited. And you’ll have your own pony, of course. Male or female.”
My hostess has caught me off guard. But the gracious interview she allowed me in New York, the arrangement and letter of introduction to visit the clinic, and the surprise plane ticket to Aruba..., all these efforts begin to make more sense.
I demur. I explain that I am an observer. A chronicler of D/s relationships and activities. That for a research scholar, no matter how accomplished and with whatever noteworthy works, to practice and engage in the day to day pragmatics of thoroughly dominating the young male and transmogrifying him to a groveling, obedient plaything, is quite an undertaking.
But I promise to give the concept consideration. She is a very attentive hostess. I will endeavor to be a polite guest.
A cut through the dense trees and shrubbery indicates that we have reached the egress from the beach, which presumably leads to our destination. Lady Constance angles toward it and the depth of the surf begins to diminish with every step. We cross the expanse of flat sand and reach a narrow road. It is well hidden in the brush, but surfaced as all the other roads. The island is well laid out for human ponies and I wonder if the original construction workers ever realized why so much rough and firm coral had to be removed if inde
ed the paths were designed for real horses.
Our ponies seem eager to roll and probably do not realize that instead of returning to Estovia we are first going to the nearby building. They just follow the directions of the reins and whip, I remind myself.
Lady Constance draws the reins back over the heads of the ponies. We enter the chariot and as always her thin whip finds the nipples with two skillfully placed strokes. The road is steep and two more strokes have the ponies digging in and accelerating. Within fifty yards, Lady Constance draws the reins to the right onto a wider more regularly used road. Within 100 yards it ends in a cul-de-sac. There, in front of a sizable brick building, a number of ponies and carts await their riders along with Jasmine’s large chariot.
Our chariot draws to a halt utilizing the cords. At this stop, Lady Constance blindfolds the team and gently pushes them to their knees signaling that there will be more than a short respite. With her proximity, both crane their necks and attempt to lick her breasts. She laughs and playfully tugs on their bits, holding their lips within an inch of her prominent feminine charms.
“Later,” is her pleasant admonishment. But I notice she does not fully discourage their efforts and was watching the reaction of their manhood while teasing them.
“They are frisky today, Doctor. It must be the hormones in their feed.”
I follow Lady Constance into the building. A native nurse greets us. She is wearing the standard white uniform similar to Jasmine’s.
“This is Naomi. She was born here on Constancia but was schooled in nursing in the States.”
We exchange greetings.
“Welcome, Lady Constance. Dr. Helga and Jasmine are expecting you and your guest. They indicated there was a one particular banding you wished to observe. They’ve held that one for last.”
“How nice. That’s a pleasant surprise. It must be the Danish lad. Ask Dr. Helga and Jasmine to wait a little longer, please, Naomi. I’d like to show the Doctor here the facility. Perhaps you can assist?”
Naomi nods. Speaking into an intercom, she announces our arrival and Lady Constance’s request. Dr. Helga’s voice comes back, apologizing for her absence and explaining that she and Jasmine are scrubbed.
“Naomi will show you about. We’ll start on the Danish male when you’re through. He’s maintaining a very firm erection for us. He seems rather apprehensive, and we’ve seen the penis react in this manner often.”
Dr. Helga’s normally dour and monotone voice hints at a degree of mirth.
Naomi begins our tour. The facility is impressive as has been indicated. There is not much lacking in terms of the equipment, rooms and supplies required to provide standard medical care for the island’s inhabitants. But the magnetic imaging machine is a considerable investment for the relative size population of Constancia. It would be difficult to locate such in some entirely less populated states in America. And there is also a sophisticated diagnostic lab, where Dr. Helga apparently is able to monitor the status of certain ongoing experimental hormone treatments.
Recollections of the investigation into Dr. Emily Reinhold’s practices come to mind. I make a mental note to review those reports when I return to New York.
A separate room contains two machines not found in the medical community. One is a computer controlled milling machine. I imagine Lady Constance’s investment in the sophisticated device to be in the millions. While we watch, a single block of metal, nickel cobalt as described, sits on a platform while various robotic arms carve and cut the metal, first into a circle and then into a ring by meticulously cutting out an area in the middle. The cutting arms leave teeth at carefully measured points. Naomi explains that the teeth of every band are custom designed to conform to the sensitive areas of the individual penis. Such is determined by extensive scanning and testing. I stand in awe as the band is fabricated for the Danish lad. Yes. The teeth are sharp and long and I cringe at the thought of a male attempting to achieve an erection while wearing such a diabolical implement.
The last stage is for the machine to carve furrows and rows into the inside circumference. A curious last step, but I will soon learn of its utility.
When the process is completed, Naomi opens the clear plastic door and retrieves the newly crafted penal ornament. She carefully wraps it in gauze, places it in a plastic bag and drops it into her pocket.
The other machine is similar in size. It is also a computer controlled device and is used to shape the hideous rubber phalli which Salina so effectively uses to amuse her charges. It stands silent.
“It also makes butt plugs for the ponies and farm beasts,” offers Naomi.
“We’re very careful here to properly stimulate the prostate glands. That’s important in chaste males,” adds Lady Constance.
Naomi next leads us to the end of the long hallway, opens one side of a double door and we step into a large room. There, hanging in their harnesses, are five of the six males, which were so prominently displayed during lunch. Each young male is suspended from a metal frame, which is on wheels. They are hooded. Two are thrashing somewhat, the remainder hang restfully. A feeding tube has been inserted into the mouths of all five. Plastic bags providing nourishment and whatever else Dr. Helga prescribes hang above, siphoning liquid to the tubes and stomachs of her new patients.
When I look to the midsection of the male hanging nearest, his newly acquired band shines under the fluorescent lights. In place of the foreskin, which Dr. Helga and Lady Constance so closely examined earlier, is this devious metal device. My eyes move upward to the chest. A badge encircles his nipples as worn by every male on the island. It’s been attached by way of deep penetrations under the areola.
“They’ll heal here for a week or two. The harnesses are actually very comfortable and provide easy access to their entire body. It is also affords an opportunity to re-enforce bladder control during their stay. Very important for the submissive psyche. They learn that all bodily functions are to be controlled.”
I turn to a smiling Lady Constance. She is gazing at her new charges with a confident look of approval and self-satisfaction. Her face reflects a certain degree of pride, like that of a horse breeder looking at a new foal.
The Danish lad awaits, otherwise I believe Lady Constance would spend the remainder of the day somewhat mesmerized by the naked suspended males and their newly altered phalli. We step out and Naomi leads us back toward the reception area then through a doorway. A wide ramp takes us downward.
“Great grandfather spent a good deal of money blasting through the coral to construct this set of rooms. There are no other basements in any building on the island because it is so difficult to dig here. But he felt it was essential to have at least one area where medical procedures could be performed in an emergency situation with absolutely no interference from tropical storms. And with the proximity to the dock, it can be used as a staging area for evacuation, if necessary.”
We arrive at the basement. It is deep, cool and cavernous. Supplies are piled up, presumably for emergencies. A silent diesel generator sits in one corner. The eerie space is not only free of activity but also devoid of signs that any activity has or will occur. At the far end is a door with a red light shining above and Naomi guides us toward it. She knocks then opens and the glare of mercury vapor lamps floods the area providing a sudden contrast akin to night versus day.
I shield my eyes and follow Lady Constance and Naomi into a tiled, well lit and antiseptic room. There stand Dr. Reinhold and Jasmine before the harnessed and suspended Danish lad. He is incredibly erect as Dr. Helga has suggested and for the procedure the wicked duo have removed his hood. His thatch of thick blond hair seems to glow in the lights, and his blue Scandinavian eyes are engrossed with the actions of his tormenters. His nipples have already been pierced and the circular badges adorn his chest.
“Welcome, Doctor. The timing couldn’t be better.”
As Dr. Helga speaks, Naomi hands her the newly crafted band. The bag is opened by the Doctor’s
latex, gloved hands and she holds the newly crafted implement next to the bulbous, purple head of the Danish lad’s penis. Physics would dictate that there was no way that such a small diameter ring could be slipped over such a large cylinder of flesh. But alas, I remind myself that the sophisticated scanning device and the computer milling machine eliminate all human error.
“As you can see, this one seems to enjoy his nipple shields. He’s been erect from the time we attached them.”
Dr. Helga nods to Jasmine who acknowledges with a smile. The large black nurse wordlessly slaps the very tip of the erection with a knowing swing of her hand. The Danish lad yelps and his erection instantly subsides. Jasmine pauses until it is completely flaccid then pulls it straight out by the foreskin. Again, Doctor and nurse glance at each other. Then Jasmine picks up a scalpel and quickly incises the foreskin from the tip toward the base. Top. Bottom. Left. Right.
The young male howls and thrashes about in his harness. But this observer realizes what he does not. The medical team of Dr. Helga and Jasmine have obviously performed this procedure many times and on bigger stronger males then him. Thus his struggles are futile and as he moves about in his harness Jasmine pushes back the newly freed skin and Dr. Helga slides the band over the frenulum which was previously covered by the cut foreskin. It is a tight fit. She examines closely. Her experienced and skilled fingers ensure that the loosened foreskin is entrapped under the band. After a pause Dr. Helga unsuccessfully attempts to twist and slide it about to test its sizing. It’s perfect as can be expected. Jasmine dabs away a small amount of blood.
It is apparent that as the incisions heal, the incised foreskin will attach itself to the porous inside surface of the band. I suppose there can be some way for a surgeon to remove it someday, but I cannot imagine how, or how much of the appendage would be left when done or how much sensitivity would remain should reversal indeed be possible.
The Constancia Compendium Page 21