Chapter Thirty-Four

Like so many of their most momentous encounters, and indeed the entire adventure they were sharing, this one began in the morning bath.

Here they were most comfortable in their roles, with rapture and possession only a shared glance away. Here she’d first aroused him and gained his notice in his ennui. Here she’d offered to cure him and here she’d made good on the first installment of that promise. Here he’d first seen her naked, was shorn of his monster’s mane and had his terror of orgasm and intimacy jerked lovingly out of him. Here he’d indulged shameful sacrificial fantasies after his sunburning while she clutched his jack-knifing body to her breasts and jerked him with fervent complicity.

Here he felt comfortable exposing his deepest weaknesses to her as well as facing her most demanding challenges. And so here he was once again: slouch-splayed half in the water, panting explosively and whimpering with torment after nearly an hour of fellating and monster-baiting. Freshly shaved and scrubbed, multiply moisturized with lotion and mouth, rubbed half-raw and sucked practically off, his penis had already been through a marathon workout. Yet when Doreen freed the rubber ligature binding him up he remained determinedly upright.

The monster seemed as driven to pursue the near-impossibility of orgasm as Karl was that of eternal enslavement – or at least marriage. Though Mistress rarely showed impatience at this, Karl was always profuse with apologies. He was fucking up the routine and he knew it.

They couldn’t proceed until he voided, which he couldn’t do until he wilted. If they skipped the voiding, he might interrupt PT or atonement with pissing – not an advisable risk around electricity. During their emotional estrangement Nurse Drake had dealt with untimely erections by squeezing a testicle until the sickening agony caused him to slump. Karl would have much preferred that to what she’d decided on this time.

From an unnoticed caddy in the back she plucked a long, thin, sealed paper package. About fifteen inches by two, he recognized this immediately from times he was trying to forget. Though he managed to bite back any protest, he gasped and blanched uncontrollably. This was far more reaction than Doreen needed to read him.

“I know, darling. This is always terrible for you. I warned you about the challenges this quarter. Are you beginning to resent me yet? Be honest!”

“Never! Absolutely fucking impossible!” Karl cried, channeling his dread and upset and knowledge of abomination imminent into avowal. “If anyone else suggested that I would go for their throat with my teeth!”

“Okay darling, I believe you. And I love you too. I understand you will submit to this unstintingly despite how traumatic you find it. Good boy. Let me explain why it’s necessary.”

Karl tried to regain his composure while she ripped open the sterile packaging.

“First of course is convenience. We don’t want to have to wait on erections to empty you, and your balls get enough abuse already. Also, reflexive voiding like you do never empties the bladder completely. The more we drain out of you, the longer the interval before we need to worry about it again.

“I know you miss the penis flail too, little slut. If we can keep you empty, say with an indwelling catheter even, we can keep you erect and whipped and shocked and stimulated almost around the clock. Try doing that with a condom on!”

From the packaging she pulled a long rubber tube similar to the one she’d kept bound about his now finally drooping cock. One end of that tube was flared slightly; the other tapered and angled to a point. As Nurse Drake began to coat the entire thing with her surgical lubricant she continued explaining.

“Remember that we are still concentrating atonement on your sexual capacity. We must satisfy your subconscious wish to sacrifice your penis. The fact that we’re inexorably closing in on even deeper needs doesn’t mean we can neglect this absolutely crucial one. The monster must suffer worse, little slut. Can you think of a more potent punishment for it?”

“No, Nurse Drake. Surely the FNS hurts more. But somehow this is so much worse.”

“Good. That brings us to our last reason: incentive.”

“Incentive?” Karl was aghast.

“Not positive incentive, like our eventual trip to Maui, the first time I ride your penis or when I finally decide that you’ve earned another milking. This is a negative incentive to get better. Instead of offering a reward, we offer to remove a detriment. Here is the deal: manage to control your bladder and you need never face the catheter again.

“You control your diaphragm, don’t you? There’s no physical reason whatsoever for you to be able to control one but not the other. So I’m challenging you: take that first solid step back into able-bodied existence. Quit just curling your toes, and stop pissing yourself like a little baby. Until you do, you’re going to get a whole lot of this!”

Still burning with shame at this unfamiliar dressing down, Karl had no chance to even brace himself as Nurse Drake seized his penis, poked the pointed end of that tube into his pee-hole and began jamming the length of it up his urethra.

Seven millimeters wide according to the packaging (more than a quarter inch!), that lubed-up rubber tube stuffed and stretched him agonizingly. Yet beyond the pain was the hideous intimacy of the invasion. Penises were not meant to be penetrated, period.

This was like the worst rape imaginable, and Karl wept bitterly as his body was so fundamentally violated. Stabbing as deeply into him as that monstrous daily thermometer if not more, that tube disappeared up his meatus almost entirely under Nurse Drake’s assured thrusting. At last it reached his bladder: urine spilled out of the flared end and into the churning tub.

As unconcerned as ever about a little dilute bodily fluids in her bath water, Nurse Drake waited patiently (Karl grinding his teeth on grating sobs) until he was tapped out. Then she pulled the catheter slowly out of him, maximizing his discomfort before casting it in the trash.

“There you go, baby: all done. Let me wash you down there again – no infections allowed! Then we’ll brush your teeth and dry your hair – I love how long it’s getting, though I need to trim your split ends – and we’ll take your vital signs. Later, after FNS and everything else, after lunch, we’ll string you up real humiliatingly, stick a Foley cath in you and flail your erect prick for hours. Tongue-clipped, clothes-pinned, nipples and balls dangling about ten total pounds, panties over your face and vibrator up your ass while your mistress takes some well-earned time for herself: doesn’t that sound like wonderful atonement, little slut?”

“Absolutely, Goddess!” sobbed Karl in all honesty.

So of course it came to pass. And so proceeded month seven of Karl’s unconventional rehabilitation. Now added to his mornings was the penetration of his eliminatory passages: always safely and hygienically done, but always a source of suffering he had no masochistic appetite for. And though he did thrill to having the monster mechanically whipped (even when little leather thongs replaced the original nylon ribbons), his enjoyment was always tainted by the thick tube threaded through his erection.

Tapping into his bladder and connected to the collection bag directly, this was worse by far than whips or clothespins, harnessed-on vibrators, glued-on or alligator-clipped electrical contacts or even all of the above additional daily torments together. It competed with the stuff-buzzing of his butt, the pungency of the freshly-saturated panties snubbing up his nose and the excruciation of his outrageous posture to keep ruining his rapture. Karl could indeed see how Doreen might worry about their relationship. She was now robbing his demeaning of enjoyment and afflicting him almost continuously in the cruelest manner.

In his derangement he might come to view her as the author of his suffering, rather than himself. Instead of his savior he might see her as an adversary. This would be disastrous and heartbreaking. Karl’s avowal had been sincere however. Though he looked back on his first-quarter boasting that he hadn’t even been tested yet with contempt, his determination to repay Nurse Drake’s efforts with his own remained intact. He wouldn’t let either of them down.

He was aided immeasurably, as always, by her support through all this. After every ordeal she stilled his sobs with kisses and cuddling, as generous with her comfort as she was unsparing in necessity. Mealtimes remained occasions for lovers’ companionship, for banter and fun and mutual appreciation of life’s beauty and bounty. Even during his demeaning sometimes they still talked about books and the lessons to be taken from them, and once in a while they cuddled up to watch a recent-release movie together.

Sex remained split between the requirements of payback and the blissful expression of mutual caring and desire. Karl’s need to ejaculate grew to excruciating intensity again. Doreen occasionally spoke vaguely of eventually milking him, but he knew better then to press her even as his own pressure continued to accumulate.

Still he slept hogtied or otherwise inventively bound in his beloved’s bed every night. This too was an opportunity to interact as normal everyday lovers, and they continued their habit of kissing and cuddling, giggling and teasing and talking until almost dawn once in a while. Best of all however was the fact that his recurring dream had stopped recurring,

Karl hadn’t visited the dungeon or execution yard in weeks.

Granted, he usually slept like a tied-up and aching rock after the days he put in. But when he did remember dreams they were always innocuous things: playing soccer for the US national team, camping out in the field behind the neighbor’s house, tossing a Frisbee on the beach with some friends he’d known in middle school. It was talking about this one night that led, perhaps inevitably, to the introduction of the most dread imposition of all – along with another welcome increase in intimacy at least.

“Still awake, precious?”

Karl had actually been just dropping off. No matter; he blinked himself to alertness as she stirred against his folded-up limbs.

“Yes I am, ma’am.”

Doreen got a hold of his ropes and rolled him over to face her.

“I can’t sleep and I got to thinking. You haven’t reported any dreams in a while.”

“I haven’t had any worth remembering.”

“Are you sure? What might seem insignificant to you may mean more than you deem.”

“I understand. From now on I will report absolutely everything.”

“Good boy.”

“The important thing is that I’ve stopped dreaming about the damn tree-house, the dungeon, and Krista’s revenge. You’ve been taking her revenge for her so well that she seems to be appeased. Thank you.”

“My pleasure, darling. Well…not pleasure, but you know what I mean. You’re welcome.

“ Believe me, little slut, it pains me to have to hurt you so much. I shouldn’t admit this, but often while you’re strung up suffering in here I’m out on the dock crying over what I’m putting you through. You can sneer and scorn me for saying this is hard on me too, and I wouldn’t blame you. But it’s true.”

“Are you kidding? I don’t have a single sneer in me. That touches me deeply honey. Thank you. Please don’t worry about me. You are doing what you have to in order to save me from paralysis and a lifetime of being raped. And the point is, it’s working.

“The fact that my subconscious has stopped torturing me every night indicates that you were right. The battle is substantially won. I’m just still holding out for this ultimate punishment of yours, whatever that is.”

“You truly don’t know, little slut?”

“No ma’am, I swear it.”

Doreen sighed. She gave him a sad smile.

“Okay, darling. For now, we’ll just say you need to be hurt and degraded more. The second month of quarter three begins tomorrow, and we’ll ratchet up the treatment again. In the meantime, I’m going to use you sexually: the best insomnia cure there is. And we will add a new element to this as well. It’s time. Wait right here, please.”

She kissed the tip of his nose and climbed out of bed. Unable to see her from his position, Karl listened to Doreen open the cabinet and move things around inside. He heard it shut, and felt her climb back onto the bed. From behind him she pulled aside his hair.

“Lift your head up off the pillow and open wide, darling.”

When Karl complied he saw a flash of something phallic and black. Then his mistress was pushing a large rubber plug into his mouth, larger than the whiffle ball she used to gag him with when clipping his tongue staled. Only this seemed to be two balls welded together. Whatever it was it stuffed his mouth uncomfortably up, and was affixed to the inside of a wide leather strap. This sealed away his face from the septum on down when she buckled it at the nape of his neck. Opposite that big plug and now jutting straight out from his wedged-wide jaws was the shape he’d briefly glimpsed, now revealed to be a dildo. This was molded to exquisite exactitude of the same black rubber as that plug, which Karl belatedly realized simulated testicles. Doreen’s breathy teasing confirmed this.

“Now you can suck on my balls while I ride your face. And finally I can enjoy some proper penetration, since you’d rather hold out for the worst than fuck me yourself. Hold still now while I lube you up. My pussy hasn’t taken anything this big in forever.”

She climbed over to face him and turned his head on the pillow so that dildo thrust straight up. Then holding him immobile she began fellating it.

Seeing those pursed lips and hollowed cheeks so close, those brown eyes boring into him as that lovely face bobbed down to within kissing distance and back made Karl’s own organ swell quickly to the limit of its confinement. Soon it was screaming in protest at being ignored in favor of insensate rubber. Nurse Drake was apparently correct about him though, so what could he do but burn with shame and arousal and welcome each further degradation as it came?

Though she’d long since proved ample expertise, Doreen gagged herself purposely on the cock she was devouring, so that her salivary glands would work overtime. Drool soon coated it, running messily from her lips and even chin. Satisfied she at last pulled back, deliberately letting those trailing strings of slaver fall and splat against Karl’s nose and cheeks. He groaned enraptured as he was defiled.

“Like that little slut? How about this?”

She hawked and swished and spat directly in his face, the thick mucus-y mess she’d worked up adhering to him all over and even stippling his eyelashes.

“Now lie there decorated like a good little slut, suck on my balls and wish you were man enough for me while I take my contemptuous pleasure!”

She swung astride him.

Abysmally humiliated with his trapped monster frantic, Karl had a ringside view as that gleaming wet cock was slipped between the lips and into the pussy he’d spend half a year and more trying madly (and probably badly) to satisfy with just his uneducated tongue.

Slowly it slid all the way inside, labia stretching wide as they came to rest against the leather locking away his lips. His neck was already sore from being twisted like this. Yet sex-slave Karl had no recourse. He lay bound and degraded and half-smothered as his goddess fucked his face for real: humping roughly against it, pogoing up and down, grinding him mercilessly beneath her. Doreen’s climaxes came quick and savage, and luckily for his cramping neck she was satisfied after only two.

Such would not be case subsequently of course. But this was only insomnia medicine for now. They had a whole two-thirds of a quarter to go, more torments that he’d been long dreading ahead and plenty of opportunities for his mistress to buckle her balls into his mouth and her cock onto his face and put herself through her exhaustive paces.

Karl was always honored and aroused to be so used. Beyond that and the horrors soon ensuing he didn’t care (or dare) to look yet.