Chapter Thirty-Eight

Since Doreen had a trip into the city and a report to make, the usual discipline session was abbreviated.

This wasn’t completely uncommon. Though they were still increasing the duration and intensity of his treatments to an almost frenetic level – time was running out to cure him after all, though this remained unspoken – it was still necessary to ease back from time to time. Now with the all-important fourth quarter imminent, and the fact that Karl’s need to suffer anally was not being sufficiently satisfied even by the incredibly painful and degrading therapy he was already receiving, it was as good a time as ever to let him relax and gather his faculties.

Though Nurse Drake was excited by both the challenge ahead and the personal and sexual fulfillments on offer, she was under no illusions about the depths of her patient’s denial – and the difficulties he would have accepting the truth about himself, obvious as the evidence was to her. Today’s procedure should help with that in more ways than one.

Karl was bound to the weight bench again, sitting up at a sixty-degree incline. His arms and legs were stretched wide and back by the resistance rods. Though the last electrodes had been removed he was still remarkably tumescent: perfect. When he saw Nurse Drake snap on gloves and pick up a tube of lubricant, he whimpered with upset even as that betraying monster strained up harder. Squeezing a generous amount of goo onto her first two fingers, she gave him a smile of reassurance rich with erotic promise.

“Relax, little slut. Silly and pointless and detrimental inhibitions aside, I promise you’re going to like this. Though it’s the last day of quarter three, we still have one final nursing procedure to introduce.

“You’ve been resenting me, darling. No, don’t try to protest – there’s too much pitifully transparent denial going on here already. Though you know it’s unwarranted, you can’t stop feeling moments of anger toward me. As I’ve said, this is not your fault. Though the pressure of unrelieved lust is still a crucial tool for us, too much testosterone in your system is making you edgy and aggressive. We need to drain that out of you with a milking.”

Caught between mortified unease and sudden astounded disbelief, Karl could only gape at first. Finally he forced his voice into use.

“You…you’re going to allow me to climax, ma’am?”

“Peace, child. You’ll see. Just relax and let Nurse Drake adjust your hormonal imbalance.”

Despite all the torture lately associated with the orifice, Karl couldn’t help moaning as those fingers began to gently rub the lube into his bung.

It was nerve-endings, that’s all: dendrites being stimulated, synapses firing, and electro-chemical activity along the spinal cord. It was perfectly natural and nothing to be ashamed of, though his cheeks flared like an always-smoldering bank of coals under the breath of a zephyr.

When those familiar digits slid easily up into him, no resistance whatsoever from those most tender and defenseless tissues, his toes curled tight, the monster raged madder and he wept not with mortally offended suffering but with the anguish of unacknowledged needs straining to break free, to burst out of repression and into devastating awareness. Pathetically he fled them again, though he continued to act at their behest. Still tangled up inside he could do nothing else.

Force of habit led him to expect twisting and spreading. He caught his breath with anticipation, then let it out in a groan that sounded dismayed when no corkscrewing was forthcoming. Instead those hideously welcome fingers began adeptly rubbing on him, methodically massaging the walnut-sized bulb of his prostate.

Karl gasped, the monster going from depraved raving to hotly pulsing insanity in an instant. Conversely every other muscle in his body turned to jelly involuntarily, and his long, quavering moan was eloquent of the inexpressible. Crouched down before his pleasure portal, Nurse Drake’s smile widened slyly.

“I told you that you would like it. The barriers are crumbling aren’t they darling, and just in time. Oh baby, we’re going to have so much incredibly impactful sex so soon…”

With that madly tantalizing yet cleverly ambiguous promise left hanging she fell silent, concentrating on massaging him with just the right motion, rhythm and pressure. Still stubbornly not heeding the hints she kept dropping, ignoring as well the ever more strident signals from his own body and subconscious, Karl lapsed into rapture.

The slight stretching and penetration, that mesmeric rubbing and the unceasing straining ache of his erection occupied all his attention. Moaning in his stressful bondage he may have passed ten minutes, twenty or a million mindlessly gorging on the most shameful sensations.

He was dimly aware of his nurse licking the quivering tip of him ever more often; clearly he was seeping copious amounts of pre-come without his penis even being handled. Soon a growing restlessness invaded his languor though. Goddess, he was so turned on, though there was no acceptable reason he should be. Swamped with degradation, he squirmed inside himself, sensing some unexpected crisis upcoming. Suddenly panic spiked.

“Oh no, I’m going to pee, get the urinal please!”

“Shush little slut, relax. You aren’t going to urinate. It’s impossible with an erection anyway. And I don’t see this thing disappearing quite yet.”

No indeed: despite what his bladder seemed to be telling him, the monster only reared up more adamantly than ever. Not understanding but with no room for perplexity in his swimming head, Karl fell back on obedience.

He tried to relapse into rapture. But that sense of impending crisis wouldn’t completely let him. Groaning with splendid distress he gritted his teeth as that supposedly phantom need to pee peaked. Then something indescribable happened inside: a threshold was breached, a balance tipped, and some incomprehensible imperative took over. The need to pee passed, but suddenly some other fluid began trickling out of his glans. He could feel it running slow and warm and sticky down the shaft.

Flaming with humiliation, Karl smelled semen. Consternation joined his shame and pleasure-pain and that incredibly evocative yet literally anticlimactic draining sensation. He looked down with disbelief.

His torturously hoarded load was not jetting orgasmically out of him in wonderfully convulsive spurts meant to plant his seed deep. Instead it just dribbled over slowly and steadily, with no real pleasure beyond that shamefully enjoyable stretching, plumbing and rubbing.

More conflicted and confused than ever, Karl trickled tears too as he groaned his way through his slow, systematic draining. He could feel the semen running over his deflating balls now without any understanding of how it was even getting out. His misguided hopes of climax dashed, he sobbed hard at last even as his incredibly rigid prick just throbbed and dribbled on. Though she didn’t stop or alter her expert massage, Nurse Drake seemed to take pity on him. She spoke soothingly as she rubbed, rubbed, rubbed.

“That’s right darling, just relax. Feel all the anger and aggression and evil macho attitudes emptying out of you along with your seed. This is known as milking the male, and it can be essential for the long term health of a climax-denied slave.

“That is what you are, and that is what you will remain until you prove your worth by returning to health. So now whenever I detect any resentment in you I will drain that rebellious maleness out of you via prostate massage.

“As you can see, rubbing your inner love nub like this can make you empty yourself without ever experiencing orgasm. It may take up to a half an hour to do properly, but it’s well worth the effort. When it’s over at last you will be my sweetly submissive receptacle again, always instinctively compliant, just ecstatic to serve me sexually for all eternity.

“That is your dearest, deepest dream is it not, little slut? To seduce me from my work so that you can be my fawningly obeisant bitch and little sissy cocksucker forever? This is what you admit you fantasize most madly about. You no longer even mind the idea of being my cock-locked cuckolded cross-dressed chambermaid stud-fluffer and personal urinal. In fact the prospect has a perverse, dreadfully addictive appeal. You think about it more and more all the time, especially when tied up all alone and tormented. So go ahead and fantasize darling. Let your imagination run absolutely riot. Just remember to be careful what you wish for.”

Doreen spoke on and on and on, using a low, lulling, even cadence.

Adding this psychologist’s trick to her mesmeric rubbing off that oh-so potent gland, that quote-unquote male g-spot, she expertly eased her patient into a trance of extreme suggestibility as she drained him. Using his carefully nurtured susceptibility to her with uncommon skill and intuition, she molded him like the putty she’d claimed he was, implanting the necessary lesson deep inside: relax, submit to femininity, give up your pig-headed male attitudes and take your pitifully limited sexual pleasure however you can get it…

By the time he was completely empty Karl was glassy-eyed and docile and asleep-while-awake, more utterly under her control than ever. Still he murmured an unconscious complaint when she stopped rubbing and slipped her fingers out of him, another excellent sign.

Though she dared not tamper with his deep subconscious where his worst problems were housed – she was no accredited psychiatrist, much as she scorned them – Doreen took a moment to implant a few more helpful suggestions. Then, the job finished, she put her nursing cap aside and donned her lover’s one.

Moaning with savor, she licked the spilled semen from her oblivious slave, starting at his only slowly closing pleasure-hole and finishing by slurping up his half-hard member like a strand of al dente spaghetti.

In the future she would milk him straight into her mouth (a delicious side benefit of this therapy), but this time she’d needed her tongue and lips for hypnosis. If she’d done it right, in the future just the rubbing might be enough to entrance him again. In any case, once Karl was all tidied up she inserted the Foley cath, and the agony and intimacy of this brought him back around without ever knowing he’d been more than a bit spellbound.

Doreen set him up to suffer in her absence then, all the usual torments, and Karl accepted each with willing equanimity. When she pulled the panties down over his face his eyes were full of love and trust for her. When she pushed the vibrator home his groan was forty percent joy, forty percent keening need and only twenty percent dismayed suffering: perfect once again. Deliberately she wiggled it as she switched it on, and Karl’s cry was so eloquent of erotic demand she could hardly understand how he could still be preserving his ridiculous delusions.

What she’d just done should help him immeasurably with that. And his dreams showed he was getting oh-so close. She switched on the flailing fan, and the vibrators collared about his balls and clipped to the thickly-plugged tip of his dick. She programmed the FNS to shock the rest of the shaft and head, his testicles and weighted, alligator-clipped nipples at random intervals and combinations and amplitudes and durations. Then already knowing the answer to her query she picked up the dildo she was going to have so much more rewarding uses for soon and returned to his blind, gaping, snub-nosed face.

“I have the last clothespin for your tongue, little slut. Or would you rather suck my cock until I get back?”

“May I please suck your lovely cock some more, Nurse Drake?”

“Of course you may, my darling.”

She adjusted the panties and chain suspending them until his head was tipped way back, opening his airway completely. Then she pushed her cock into his willingly opened suck-hole. Grinning, she thrust it deep, all the way, until the balls were resting against his chin and the head was probing his open throat. Karl retched immediately, taking a panicked, partly obstructed breath. Doreen soothed him with petting.

“Relax cocksucker, and it will be easier to breathe.

“The angle of your head is just right. It will both keep your throat open and prevent my cock from falling out should you lose concentration or your lips get too slippery.

“Of course you can expel it anytime if you absolutely have to, or at least push it out of your greedy gullet a bit occasionally before letting it slide back in. But it would mean so very much to me if I came back in a few hours to find you still deep-throating my penis, with my balls still resting against your slick-spitty chin. Do you think you can manage that for me little slut?”

Karl squawked an affirmative, immediately started choking again, and pushed the cock half out of his already frothing and over-spilling mouth. He puffed frantically for a moment, settled down, and then let his mistress’ big prick slide back in to the limit. Stuffed to the gills, he gave a garbled groan of desperate misery, then devoted all his concentration to breathing slowly and evenly. Satisfied that he was in no danger, that even if he puked he would be able to eject everything safely, Doreen congratulated him with a kiss on his exposed shoulder.

“Well done, darling. Take this opportunity for training, okay? Now, I’ve got to change and get dolled up for my appointment. But momma will be back by dinnertime, I promise – I’m making enchiladas by the way – and if that penis is still in place we’ll cuddle up and watch that new Quentin Tarantino movie before bed. Sound good?”

Cocksucker managed an appeasing bleat without gagging this time. Delighted, Doreen kissed him again. Then she left him to his training. He was going to need it.