Dexter Chronicles

Writer's Note: It wouldn't be polite to leave Mitch alone by the pond. I mean, would it? Of course not. And fortunately (?) for Mitch, Angela kind of likes him. Hmm. And then there's little Robert and his weekend guest, Claire. They actually seem like a pretty good match. Sort of like a kinky sleepover, gone bad. What do you think?

Sue Dexter — Chapter Seven

The scene at the pond was serene — two exquisitely beautiful women and a man. Barb was sound asleep on the ground next to Angela and Mitch, gently dreaming and humping her princk against the soft grassy slope of the pond's bank. Angela was just waking up and found herself half on and half off Mitch, with her thick penis twitching from her orgasm and still deeply embedded in Mitch's lower intestinal tract. Mitch had never "fallen asleep" because of the pain, but he had mercifully passed out a few times. He had tried to arch up and roll Angela off him twice, but each time she would simply place her right hand around his tender throat, which had been ravaged by Barb's princk, and squeeze and he would give up. With his arms still securely bound behind his back by Barb's bikini straps he was obviously going nowhere.

Angela stretched and began to lift herself off him. Pulling out slightly, she grabbed him by his butt and pulled him up a bit so that she could comfortably lean back on her knees and calves to get a closer look at him. He was not badly built and kind of cute in a young "sensitive male" sort of way. His face and hair were badly caked by Barb's princkcum, and of course, he stunk a bit, but that was to be expected. The best part was his look of fear.

"What … are … you … going … to … do … to … me?" he haltingly whispered out of his molested throat.

"Oh, Mitch, baby, I haven't decided yet. But you'll be the first to know. I promise."

She began to slowly raise herself up higher. She knew what was going to happen. While she had been asleep, his rectal muscles had a chance to recuperate and regain some of their muscle tone; he was tight again, real tight. It was going to be "sphincter hug" time. Angela withdrew inch after plenteous inch from Mitch's ass until her bulbous princkhead came into contact with Mitch's clenching inner band of sphinctal muscles.

"Here we go, baby," she said.

Angela began to straighten her beautiful muscular legs and Mitch began to be slightly lifted from the ground with his sphincter involuntarily holding on for dear life on the end of Angela's long princk. Angela began to moan loudly with the exquisite pleasure of his hot sliding squeeze, and Barb began to stir. She rolled to her side in time to see Angela swaying from side-to-side with Mitch suspended as he grimaced and cried in pain.

"Do you want me to pull him off?" ask Barb.

Angela just shook her head as her moans turned to exquisite sighs.

Angela continued her gentle rocking and swaying motion. Mitch's body was touching the ground only at the back of his head and his heels, and his arching becoming more and more exaggerated as Angela continued to straighten her legs. The pain in his buttocks was unbelievable and his screams through his already shattered throat were not loud, but were intensely pathetic. "Pl … please, let me go," he cried.

Barb mockingly said, "You're the one who's holding on, bitch!"

Then Mitch uttered a horrible shriek. His sphincter, exhausted, could no longer resist Angela's retreating princk any better then he was able to prevent its invasion and he finally plopped (ripped?) free of her generously flanged princkhead and hit the ground with a muffled thud.

Angela threw her head back. "Yow, that was so goooood! It always feels great when they squeeeeeeeze out the last few drops," she giggled to Barb and turned and went to the lake to take a long luxurious pee through her magnificent hose.

Barb whispered to Mitch. "You know, she usually takes that post-orgasm pee while she's still shoved up someone's ass. I think she likes you."

Barb stood up as Angela came back from the edge of the pond and both naked women stood over Mitch with their long semi-erect princks pointed at him.

"Well," said Barb, "What's next?"

"I think I want to take him home with us," mused Angela.

"Oh, no. Not again! Damn! If you do, he's your responsibility, Angela, not mine. You're going to have to arrange for the banding, teeth removal, piercings and especially … the feedings!"

"Oh. I bet you'll help with some of the feedings, particularly the late night ones," laughed Angela.

"Well, maybe," Barb chuckled. "Okay," said Barb, "You can keep him. Let's clean the princk-bitch up and get him ready."

"Thanks, Barb, you're really cool. We can drop him off at FemTech's Miller Street field office on the way home and pick him up Thursday afternoon. He'll be banded, toothless, pierced and oh-so-hungry for a princkjuice fix. Let's do it!"

And with that they grabbed Mitch by his feet and dragged him, still bound into the pond to clean him off.

***

Back at the Dexter Estate, Claire Winslow stood by Robert's little tied-up form, with her restraining and banding kits next to her. The piercing equipment sat neatly on Ms. Dexter's bed, along with the other "tools-of-the-trade" that Claire had brought in from her car after Sue left for her weekend at FemTech.

"So, Robert," said Claire as she knelt in front of the trussed up little package known as Robert Dexter, "Shall we do all this the easy way or the hard way, or the very, very hard way? We have all weekend. It's up to you. What do you say?" she purred.

Robert began to struggle and sputter and sob … .

"Robert, would it help you to just talk about your fears? What do you think is going to happen to your mother and to you? Come on, sweetheart, you can talk to me," she sweetly cooed.

Robert looked, really looked at Claire for the first time. She did sort of look like a babysitter. She was older than he was, that was for sure. But she was not "old." She was slender and beautiful and when she knelt down and her short skirt rode up her thighs, he could see that she was wearing stockings and garter belts (Sue Dexter had told FemTech about Robert's little fascination with stockings).

"Come on, little fella. What are you afraid of?"

"What's, what's your name?" ventured Robert.

"As I told you before, I'm Claire, Claire Winslow."

"Why are you here."

"Your mother went away this weekend to the FemTech Institute and I'm here to band and pierce you and be with you until your mother comes back on Sunday."

"She'll be different, won't she?"

"Well, Robert. She'll be different and she'll be the same. Of course, she'll have a beautiful new princk between her legs. But she will also have her sweet, soft vagina. And your mother told me you're very good at pleasing her there. Did you know that?"

"I didn't know she really liked it. I mean she acted real happy and excited. But, I ... I don't know. I thought I was going to be smothered. She had her female thing all over my face. It tasted funny and I could hardly breathe. It was scary. But it was …I, I don't know," and he started to cry again.

"Robert. Young males are made to do things with older females that females want to have happen. They're bigger and stronger than little boys; it's just that simple. It's not really about whether you get scared or not. It's about whether a woman wants you to do something to her, or whether she wants to do something to you. Do you understand? It's not about what you want; it's about what she wants. It's a new world. And, Robert, it's never going to go back to the old way."

"Can you let me run away? I'll go to my father and never bother anyone again."

"Oh, Robert. That's so sweet. But I can't let you go. I don't even want to let you go. You're young and your mother is going to have years and years of pleasure from you. She will train you to do anything she wants. And I mean anything. Things you can't even imagine in a dream. And Robert. Here is the best part—you're going to both crave to serve her and be petrified of her. I know that's hard to understand and it's cruel, but it's the new way and you're part of it. But think of the good side. Your mother is very, very rich and beautiful. Don't you think she's beautiful?"

Robert thought of his mother towering above him while he was on his knees before her. He thought of his hands lovingly smoothing the stockings on her long, shapely legs and he thought of his face fully buried in his mother's wet, hot vagina.

"Yes, yes," he said as he began to visibly shake, "She is very beautiful. But, I'm afraid. Please let me go. Please let me go," he begged.

"Sorry, little guy. I wouldn't even if I could."

"No. No!" yelled Robert, straining at his bonds.

"Well, Robert. I can see that this is going to be a long afternoon. So, let's get started. First, the enema." Claire strolled over to a black nylon satchel and withdrew an enema tube and rubber bag. Robert's eyes were red with crying and wide with fear when he saw her begin to apply lubricating jelly to the long enema tube.

"Wh … what are you going to do with that?"

"I think you know, Robert. Don't you?"

She placed the greasy nozzle on the floor on a clean stainless steel tray right in front of him, so he could get a good look at it and begin to think about what was coming next while she walked into Sue bathroom to fill up the rubber bag. After she added two quarts of warm soapy water to the bag, she opened a small vial she had in her kit and measured out 10 cc's of a pinkish liquid. "Hmm," she thought to herself, "this should calm him down a bit and make him more compliant. Sort of take the edge off a bit," she smiled.

She laid the large swollen rubber bag on the tray next to the nozzle, and Robert's eyes spread wide with fear.

Following Sue's instructions, she released the clamps that fastened the dressing table against the wall, and taking advantage of the dressing table's rollers, pulled it (and Robert) into position near the foot of Sue's bed. There were four recessed flush-mounted clamps in the floor as Sue had described, and the dressing table was soon fastened and locked in place. Claire then found the Velcro leg straps and attached them quietly to the "D"-rings on the table's rear legs. She slipped the first strap around Robert's right foot at his ankle and drew the strap tight to the "D"-ring, immediately immobilizing his right leg and spreading it away from center.

"No. No. No." screamed Robert loudly, as he began kicking his left leg wildly about.

Claire walk in front of him and whispered down into his ear, "Fight me, Robert. I love it when little boys do that."

"Noooooo!! Stop!"

Claire bent down and ran her right hand over his neck, then chest, then belly, then lower belly. The perfume and cleavage of her breasts were right in front of Robert's face. She took her fingers and gently, teasingly scratched and tickled him right above his penis, but Robert wasn't laughing; he was caught in a state of sexual overload. Claire then ran her fingers over his penis, and his breathing immediately stopped. And then his balls … which she cupped in her slender, strong fingers. She began to roll his balls about like dice and then hold them firmly, very firmly in the grip of her young hand. His breathing came back to life and he groaned in pain.

"Robert," she said, slowly increasing the pressure. Is it all right with you if I place the Velcro strap on your left ankle and fasten it to the leg of the table?"

"Arghhgrgh!"

"What, Robert? Is that a 'Yes?" she said increasing the pressure even more.

"Uggrhrh aggrgeggrg."

"Just nod your little head, Robert."

His head flew up and down.

"Thank you, Robert." She released the pressure on his balls as slowly as she had created it — fully and completely in control. As she open her hand, she gave his little balls a sharp upwards slap and he screamed and coughed and sputtered as she caressed her way up his chest. Removing her hand, she petted him on his head, which was still nodding up and down. "I understand, Robert. I understand. You can stop nodding."

She then returned to the rear of the table, bent down and encircled his ankle with the left strap and fastened it securely to the left rear leg of the dressing table fully and securely exposing all of Robert's rear portions to her view and reach.

"Robert," she said sarcastically, "You're being such a good boy. Thank you."

Claire then squatted in front of Robert, whose fearful eyes darted from Claire's stockinged legs to the nozzle and bag she held and manipulated in her hands. "Are you ready, sweetheart," she asked him.

"Oh, Claire. Please don't. That … that thing is so big."

"Robert, honey. This enema nozzle is tiny compared to what you're going to have to get used to." The reference was not lost on Robert, and he once again burst into tears and tried to wriggle away. But he was hopelessly bound.

"Honey," said Claire. "You're just going to have to get used to the way things are. Even little girls younger than you have princks. And what do you think they're doing with them?"

Robert just looked deeply at Claire's sincere face, his mind wildly racing, looking for an escape.

"Robert, they're looking for males to plug with their new toys. And these little girls are not just going after little boys. I mean, they get plenty of little boys like you. But they also get together in organized small packs and take down older boys and fully-grown men! Imagine that, Robert, men over three or four times their weight. And then these little girls savagely rape their captured prey, all of them taking turns and often two of them at a time! You don't realize how lucky you are that your mom intends to keep you to herself."

Robert began to shake at what she had just said.

"No, Claire. It can't be true. It can't. I'll get my dad to help me. He'll help me. Oh. I want this to stop. Please make it stop. Oh, Claire!"

She lovingly cupped his cheeks and kissed him on the forehead and petted his sweating head and made soft comforting sounds until he calmed down.

Claire stood up and gracefully moved around to the backside of the table and the backside of Robert. She knelt down and surveyed the scene — Frightened boy (good), legs spread wide and firmly secured (good), balls and testicles fully and vulnerably exposed (good), anus exposed and accessible with no yucky body hair to shave or get messy (good), video cameras running to replay and share this event with his mother (good), arms and neck fully and tightly secured (good), a mansion to live in for the weekend (good), nose and perineum piercings to do (good), and the opportunity to do two authorized non-anesthesia penile piercings (very, very good).

She began to play the greasy nozzle up and down between his widely spread ass cheeks. She watched as his gluteus muscles clenched and re-clenched in desperation and his sphincter muscles flinched and twitched when she caressed his rosebud with the enema nozzle.

"Robert. I'm coming in now. Try to relax and it won't hurt so much."

She lifted the lubricated nozzle so its entry would be easy and efficient, and applied slow steady pressure to the nozzle. She knew she was being filmed, but she also knew she had great latitude about what she could do and how she could do it. Her instinct wasn't to cause him overly extraneous pain, but she did delight is having him under the constant strain of apprehension.

***

Life had certainly changed and was changing still. It was as if a great karmic balancing was in process between the genders. Unfortunately for Robert, he was born in the wrong place at the wrong time; he was an innocent symbol of the soon to be extinct sexually aggressive male. What no one could have possibly known at that time was that there would be no going back. The men had had their opportunities and had ruthlessly taken advantage of women over eons. Now the women were gaining the upper hand and they would never let go until they were sure that every male was under their complete control or being hunted down.

***

Claire placed her left hand on Robert's little penis and began to roll it between her thumb and forefinger. Even with his fear and discomfort, he slowly began to get hard.

"They are so weak," she thought. "So weak and easily manipulated."

With her right hand she guided the nozzle past his guardian sphincter and ever so slowly deep into his bowels. "Sush," she said as Robert began crying. "Sush, honey. It's all right. It's almost in all the way." She calmly adjusted her grasp and then deliberately rubbed the side of the nozzle against his immature prostate, just for effect.

"Ahhh. Ohh. No. Please don't. Ahhhh. What are you doing? Ahh. No. No, please," he whined.

"My, my Robert. You're so sensitive. You stay right here; I'll be right back."

She wanted to leave him there thinking about his place in life. Trussed to the bottom of his mother's dressing table with a woman not much his elder assaulting his inner bowels with a cleansing, drug-enhanced enema. As she watched from the doorway, she could see him struggle to expel the nozzle; he couldn't, of course. After a few seconds of fruitless trying, he hung his head and cried out of frustration, pain, and especially humiliation. Panting with fear, he was ready for the next step.

End of Sue Dexter — Chapter Seven

(c) 2003 MystyMason

Any comments welcomed. Contact Mysty at mystymason172@hotmail.com