Sue Dexter—Chapter One

When Robert Dexter was quite young, he was diagnosed at his yearly dental check-up as suffering from an acute attack of a virulent gum and tooth disease although he, himself, was experiencing no discomfort. The initial diagnosis was performed by Dr. Janet Cutler, and the extractions were performed by an oral surgeon, Dr. Ruth Miller, both recent but extremely competent medical professionals.

"Well, Sue," Dr. Miller said, "He'll never bite anyone; all baby teeth and permanent seed teeth are gone." Sue and Ruth exchanged a secret smile and looked down at the diminutive Robert, who was not fully over the effect of anesthetics. "There are a few more things I could remove from him, if you'd like," Ruth offered. "There's not much down there anyway."

"You know," Sue whispered, "I like the idea of being able to tease him, and for that he needs desire and frustration. No, let's leave him intact … for now. There is always time for him to catch another 'disease' later."

•••

Sue Dexter wheeled her son to their car and helped him into the front seat, fastened his seat belt and drove towards their country home. She thought about how much interest he was beginning to pay to her, how he watched her when she crossed her long, sleek legs, or got dressed up to go out. She had had small video cameras set in the bathrooms and his bedroom, and she would monitor him from her laptop office watching him fondle her most intimate, delicate underwear that she would leave for him to find in the bathroom. She mused about the day she would "accidentally" walk in while he had a pair of her panties in his mouth and a black stocking wrapped around his little penis.

The divorce had been so, so stressful. Robert's father was quite the asshole. His massive fortune ended up being split between them, and his half, most of it, as far as Sue was concerned was becoming hers as well on a check-by-check, week-by-week basis. Blackmail was such a sweet thing, effectively done.

•••

Years before, Sue had meet Robert's father at a summer camp for rich kids. She was a counselor; he was a member of the camp's board of directors. Within three scandalous months they were married. She could not believe how well her plan had worked, and when her child was a boy, she was ecstatic. She would divorce the father, keep the son, and have the wealth and the young little slave she had always wanted. By the time she was nineteen, she had her own estate with cook, gardener and help. She was on her way. Little Robert was on his way too, he just didn't know where.

•••

Sue first met Clarissa at the exercise club. It was pretty exclusive; that's why she went there. There were two types of women there, those who already had their groins "supplemented" with princks, and those who were on their way, but needed a little more information. Clarissa loved talking about it. "Look, Sue. It's like this. You go into the FemTech clinic on a Friday afternoon. You get a bath, a massage, and a princk. By Sunday noon you're fully recovered, and in a week you're ready for action. In fact, it's terribly 'hard' to hold off for that long, and you don't really have to. There's no scars, no pain, just a powerful urge to penetrate any male around you. You're already powerfully built, with the testosterone added, you'll just get stronger, and more feminine as well. Your natural estrogen pumps to offset the testosterone. It's the best of both worlds. And, honey, get a big one, like I did. You'll love it."

Clarissa loved to show off; she slipped off her leotard. As always, the entire gym grew silent. It was the first time Sue had seen Clarissa do this. Clarissa's princk, a long thick snake hung between her legs. She placed her right hands around the shaft and gave it a gentle caress and then drew back her hand and stared at Sue. But Sue was not looking at Clarissa; her eyes were on her python. Silently, and with a powerful unstoppable force, the thing began to grow (how was that possible) and thicken and rise until it was pointing straight at Sue. "Would you like a closer look," whispered Clarissa. Sue squeaked back, "I don't think so." Large dollops of goo began to leak and fall from Clarissa's princk, and her breathing changed. One of the other princkesses, Jennifer, came over and stood between them, and hissed at Sue, "Quick, leave the room. Now!" Sue slowly, then quickly back away and ran into the locker room. "Clarissa, cut it out! You scared the shit out of her. She's big, BIG, money." Clarissa recognized her friend, Rita, and began to come down from the edge. "Oh, yes, of course, you're right. But she is so hot. I wanted her."

Now there was an immediate problem in the gym—a fully erect and sexually engorged princkmistress. Erections in the gym were not unusual; it was a "normal" way of life for these endowed women, but Clarissa was often a little eccentric and out of control. She was still breathing heavy, panting, and her eyes were darting around. Clarissa was still dangerous. "Get Roger in here," Jennifer yelled. Roger was the club's masseuse, a "old" man in his early 30's, who had handled one of Clarissa's raging hard-ons before. Clarissa's eyes were beginning to glow and narrow. Roger came into the gym, running. He stopped short when he saw who it was.

"I … want … him … bound…" Clarissa panted. He turned to escape, but Jen had him first, by the shoulders, then the neck, then with a knee on his back, then with the Velcro wrapped around his elbows, a second around his wrists, all behind him. Jennifer stood up and grabbed Roger by his hair yanking him to his knees in front of Clarissa. "Don't kill him," Jen screamed at Clarissa, but she was in a sexual fury at this point.

Clarissa's princkhead waved menacingly before Roger's face. "Get his dentures out," Jen said, and Melissa, another princkster, ran over and pinched Roger's jaws apart and pulled the dentures and threw them to the floor muttering, "These are always slowing us down!" A stomp from her powerful foot crushed them beyond repair.

Roger was visibly shaking. "Noo, pleath don't!" Clarissa grasped her princk and lashed him hard across his face… once … then again… again … again. Tears were streaming down his cheeks. Clarissa's princk was drooling heavily. She roughly grabbed him by his hair with her left hand and yanked his head forward. With her right hand, she slapped him so hard he blacked out for a second, and Clarissa used that moment to begin the measured insertion of her massive organ into his face ... inch by thick inch. As he began to come to, he remembered his circumstances and began to struggle against the Velcro bonds, but they held firm. He tried to pull away from the monster burrowing into his mouth and soon down his sensitive throat. Clarissa now had both hands behind his head; she had not even begun her thrusting, she was simply slowly pulling his mouth over her princk, like slipping on one of her black silk stockings that she loved to wear on her long, lean, strong legs.

"God, she IS beautiful," thought Sue, who was peeking in through the door, with one hand unconsciously rubbing between her legs." I want to do that, too," she mused.

Roger was good at this, he was trained and experienced to not gag, throw-up and choke to death. But her cum was strongly dribbling, flowing out of her princkhead and he was having trouble swallowing the foul stuff. It was seeping out of his mouth. Fortunately, gravity took most of it to his chin and dripped it on the floor, but some gushed out by his upper lip and began to clog his nose. His hands were tied and he couldn't do any thing but blow out as hard as he could, forming cum bubbles expanding and contracting on his face.

A small circle of princksters had formed around Clarissa, Roger and Jen. Cleo, a tall, beautiful black woman could see that Roger was done for if someone didn't act quickly. Shrugging her powerful shoulders, she reached back over her head, grabbed the collar of her tight T-shirt and yanked if off, springing free two awesomely round, firm breasts. Princkcum is awful stuff; it's thick, viscous, foul tasting and … seriously addictive. But now, Roger was smothering in an extremely small quantity of it accumulating on his upper lip, and more, way more, was on its way. Without the ability to wipe it away, he was dead meat, and not much fun, either. Cleo began to wipe the princk cum off his face with her T-shirt, and Roger immediately took a huge breath through his nose, then another. Maybe he could survive Clarissa, again. Maybe.

Clarissa liked the power of life and death; she was dangerous. She was in the throes of sexual desire, but she still knew what she liked, and she liked to feed her desire on fear. She began to pinch Roger's nose … then let him breathe ... then pinch it again. Roger was going crazy, literally, with fear. Clarissa was getting higher and higher on it. His eyes were begging her to stop, but she kept doing it and glared heartlessly down at him. "If she kills him, I'm going to be real pissed," thought Cleo. "That little white boy really knows how to suck me long and slow. Shit."

There were only two women that Clarissa treated as equals, and Cleo was one of them. Not only was she bigger and stronger than Clarissa, she knew how to bring Clarissa off so that Clarissa saw stars! Cleo decided to try to save her favorite little male princksucker. She started stroking Clarissa's back with long, steady strokes, like you would a spooky horse. Then Clarissa's magnificent ass cheeks, and then her thighs. Cleo was on her knees behind Clarissa, her hands lovingly stroking Clarissa's strong, smooth legs. Cleo slowly eased her hand between Clarissa's thighs and slid the fingers of her right hand imperceptibly over Clarissa's anus, brushed against her sensitive perineum, and then explored their way past Clarissa's swollen vulva lips into Clarissa's soppingly wet vagina. Clarissa gasped. "Shhsssh, girl," said Cleo, "you're going to like this."

•••

Hidden behind Clarissa's magnificent heavy balls, was a damp bog of exquisite pleasure, and Cleo knew where all the pressure points were. God, it was wet in there. Little rivulets of femcum began to run down Clarissa's thighs. Unlike the princk juice, the femcum was sweet and Cleo rewarded herself with a long sensuous lick.

"Oh, yes, Roger's dying," Cleo thought to herself. Cleo left hand snaked around Clarissa's left leg and behind Clarissa's large, low-hanging ball sack and found Clarissa's second favorite plaything, her clitoris. She carefully began to push up the cloak on Clarissa's hooded cobra. Her clit was thick and moist and pulsing. Cleo began to stroke it and Clarissa began to press forward with each stroke of Cleo's warm hand. Clarissa's "petite princk" engorged itself with blood and fattened and lengthened. Cleo wrapped her fingers around it and Clarissa began to push and hump while her clitoris slid in and out of Cleo's hand, carefully and teasingly modulating the pressure, the friction that Clarissa would feel.

•••

Roger was barely alive now, and the thick princkcum was at his nose again beginning to suffocate him. He would not be the first man in the exercise room to smother of princkcum; he would not even be the first to do so this week; it was the new male condition.

Cleo gripped Clarissa's clit firmly and Clarissa responded with a low grunt, and began to thrust in earnest, driving her hips forward wildly to take advantage of Cleo's grasp of her massive clit. Femcum began to stream down Clarissa's legs and puddle up around her feet. Cleo reach between Clarissa's legs and began to pinch Clarissa's clit erotically and rub its oh, so, tender head. "Ahhhhhhh!" screamed Clarissa, "Yes, Yes. Yesssss!" Clarissa's world exploded with both a vaginal orgasm and her princk's volcanic expulsion of cum. Roger's head was thrown about by the force of Clarissa's violent orgasmic thrusts, but his neck was not broken because of the massive living flesh splint Clarissa had inserted down his throat. On the last violent thrust, Roger, unconscious, was thrown off, and Clarissa collapsed to her knees, panting with a look of exhaustion and pleasure on her face. She was flush and her princk rested on the floor between her legs, still moving and twitching, as it very slowly began to loss a small amount of it turgidity. Everyone around knew that she and her princk could be immediately ready for renewed action if provoked. No one dared.

Jen had dragged Roger's unconscious body away from Clarissa's princkhead and rolled him on his stomach and removed the Velcro bonds. No one, but no one ever gave mouth-to-mouth respiration to someone who had been sucking princk. There was one possibility. Jen stood above Roger and began to pound her foot, first gently and then very hard on his lower back, middle back and then upper back in a repeating pattern, and he began to show some signs of life. First a quiet moan, and then violent coughing, and then something that Roger almost never did; he threw up. Roger did not have the strength to get up, and he rolled to his side and shaking he gagged and gagged and threw up vast quantities of the princkcum. Clarissa got to her feet and grabbed him by the back of his neck and pushed his face into the foul puddle. "Get a spoon," she screamed, and someone brought one from a lunch bag. Clarissa thrust it into Roger's shaking hand. "Now, eat every drop. Don't you dare waste any!"

Roger looked up at Clarissa. His face was covered in tears and princkcum and femcum, and he placed the spoon in the goo on the floor and began to eat it, spoonful by spoonful. "That's a good boy, "Clarissa said, and the women all laughed. "And when you're done, as a treat, you can lick up the pool of femcum over there." Marsha, another princkster brought Roger a window squeegee to help him do his job, and they all laughed again. The tension was finally gone in the room, and Roger spent the next two hours eating and then licking the floor clean under their laughter and jeering eyes. But he was glad Cleo had saved him.

•••

Sue was amazed and thought, "I do that, too. Hmmm, I can practice on my little submissive Robert," and a plan began to form in her mind….

End of Chapter One — Sue Dexter

ã 2003 MystyMason

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

Sue Dexter—Chapter Two

Two days after watching Clarissa sexually assault Roger, Sue still breathed heavily at the thought. That Monday afternoon, she was sitting down to lunch with her close friends Janet Cutler, DDS and Ruth Miller, MD. "Yes, Sue," Dr. Miller laughed, "Of course we heard about what happened at the club. Clarissa is so, ah, … straightforward, shall we say. Is Roger still alive?"

"It's amazing, but he still works there; partially the addiction, I think," Sue said. "But he's staying as far away from her as he can. But that won't last, of course. When Clarissa pursues a male, she gets him."

"Forget about Roger," Ruth said leaning forward in a conspiratorial manner, "what are your plans for your dear, little Robert. I think he's old enough to be taken. And if you don't declare yourself a princkmistress by next week, his birthday, he's up for grabs. I need to warn you, my little daughter Helen has her eye on him right now."

"Tell your little rattlesnake to back off, Ruth. I already have an appointment at the FemTech Clinic this Friday," Sue said with a mischievous smile. "I'm afraid the easy times for Robert are "cumming" to an end, his."

***

That evening, Sue stood in her bedroom looking at the locking throat and arm bands she had Kelly Ingersol install beneath the leading edge of her dressing table; a shiver went through her as she thought of Robert's arms immobilized and his face fixed at thigh level. She gasped, calmed herself and then hummed as she unbuttoned and unsnapped and let her cloths fall away from her magnificent body. She glanced down at her full round breasts, delicate but strong muscular frame, firm flat stomach and lusciously bare vagina. Soon her clitoris would have a large protector, … and perhaps a bit vicious. She began to rub herself below where her princk would be and softly purred.

Ah, the low beep of her laptop computer began singing to her. Yes, it was the motion detector in Robert's bedroom. She typed in the code to Robert's room. There he was.

Robert glanced around his room, kicked off his shoes and began fumbling around in his wastebasket. Oh, he had a little prize hidden there … no, two little, dainty prizes. One was one of his mother's jet-black lacy stockings; the other was a matching sheer panty. Even without using the zoom, she could see that his hands were shaking. He began to take off the rest of his clothes. This was his mother's yoga time in her spacious master bedroom; she wouldn't be bothering him for at least one hour, maybe more. He had seen her coming out of their in-house pool so many times, and watched behind half opened doors as she showered and soap up her body to remove the slight traces of the pool's chlorine. Twice she had asked him to help her attach her stockings to her garter straps while she combed her hair or did her nails. He was completely in love with her, and she knew it, cultivated it and counted on it. None of his friends had a mother so young, and rich and beautiful, and they teased him. But Robert didn't mind; he was proud of her, even though a bit scared of his feelings.

He sat on the bed leaned back against his pillow and began to rub the stocking over his naked body, his chest, and face, and small, little penis. As she zoomed in, she could see and hear him begin to swoon, but she knew he was still not too close to cumming; she had watched him many times before. As she began to put on her bathrobe, she could see him enter phase two of his ritual. He wrapped the stocking tightly around his prick and balls, and then placed her panties under his nose, took a deep, deep breath and then put them in his mouth and began to suck on them noisily. "Pretty soon he'll have something else in this mouth to suck," she said under her breath.

She shut down her computer and silently walked the short distance to Robert's room. Listening at the closed door, and timing her entrance. She quietly placed her hand on the door knob, silently turned it and said, while she was opening the door and stepping in to his sordid little den, "Robert, guess whose coming to dinner tomorrow, Dr. Miller and her daughter Ru…. WHAT ARE YOU DOING??!!" And then more slowly, "Robert, … you … little … pig."

She strode toward him towering in mock surprise and anger. He tried to roll over, but she grabbed his arm and threw him back on his back. "What is this?" She pointed and then grabbed for her stocking, knowing it was wrapped about his genitals. His hands darted down to stop her, and she slapped him hard on the face. "Don't you ever attempt to interfere with me, or strike me, or raise your hands to defend yourself. Do you understand?" Her bathrobe was almost open at the top and she was fiercely staring at him — an image of female ruthless beauty and rage. He burst into tears. "I'm sthorry, I'm sthorry," he mumbled, the panties still hidden in his mouth.

"You're sorry, all right, a sorry little shit of a boy, that's what you are." She reached down, grabbed the stocking and yanked it. "Arrhh! Ohhh!" he opened his mouth and screamed in pain and fear as the stocking tightened around his balls. "Oh, what do we have here," she said reaching towards his gasping mouth. She hooked her sopping wet panties with a long sharp fingernail and slowly lifted them from his mouth, holding it above her head like a piece of medical evidence. He gulped in shame.

***

A very different scene was emerging at Ruth Miller's home. Five days earlier, Gene Macon was confronted by Bay City Officer Carol Nelson while he was in the act of robbing the Rod and Gum Boutique Shop, a high end fashion shop for "Women with that Something Extra." Using a high voltage StunGun she dropped him to his knees and did not turn off the power until he was near death. It was a capital office to steal from a princkmistress owned business, and Mr. Macon had made a serious mistake, perhaps fatal mistake. He was immediately taken to Ruth's medical offices where he was pronounced "dead on arrival." Actually, he wasn't dead and this was not the first male brought by Officer Nelson to Ruth for a little extra cash.

"What do you do with all these guys?" Carol asked. "I revive them, I give their lives new meaning, I reeducate them, I liberate them from their common, boring everyday experience of life, and for a short period of time my daughter and I become the very center of their universe while we probe deeply into them for our own… uhm, … edification, enlightenment and ecstatic self-improvement."

Officer Nelson just shrugged. "Well, whatever you do, it's okay with me. I'll always have more for you whenever you want. See you later, Doc."

Three hours later, Gene Macon sat, well, actually lay, in a semi-conscious heap naked in Dr. Miller's clinic's subbasement, his mouth dripping blood on the cold tile floor. Ruth and her daughter Helen sat comfortably in chairs listening to the man moaning, and grimacing in discomfort and pain. "Thanks for letting me pull some of his teeth, Mom. They were really in there good. I didn't think it would be so hard to do. Can I do the next ones myself, but just strap them in and leave them un-drugged? Huh?"

"Well, we'll see honey; maybe."

"Okay Mom, that's cool."

A thin two foot steel chain ran from a tight titanium band around the base of Mr. Macon's testicles to a ring embedded in the floor, A second heavier chain ran from a thick steel collar around his neck to a winch hidden above the twelve foot ceilings. He began to moan more loudly. Sue got up and walks over to a wall and turned a knob, which caused a focused overhead nozzle to spray cold water on their guest. Startled by the splash of water he started to come to. He glanced around and saw his hosts. Ruth Miller stands about 5' 10" in her bare feet, with long hair, full breasts, sinuous legs, and just a touch of cruelty barely hidden in her eyes.

Her daughter Helen didn't seem like she could possibly be related to her. She was small, very, very petite, a shade under 4'9", but perfectly built, with short-cropped hair. Helen was remarkably strong for her size and very, very skilled are extracting pain.

"Wh'air ahm I." The pain in his mouth was almost over whelming. "Wah happin to ma mouseth?" He struggled to speak.

"Mr. Macon," Dr. Miller spoke, "You were a very bad boy. You broke several serious laws, were caught in the act and stunned to death. I am recycling you, like a plastic, container, and now we are going to refill you with a special form of life. You're going to love it."

Macon looked confused and scared. "Have you ever been with a princkster?" Helen asked. Macon spun around toward her voice. She was so innocent, so small and young looking. "You know, Gene, a princkmistress." Gene stammered, "Ah, no, no." "That's so good," purred Helen, "That's how we like them, nice and tight, tight."

Helen began to get undressed. She lifted off her T-shirt which uncovered a dramatically tight abdomen with breasts coming out of the sides of a tube top which seemed definitely too small. A man could be dying and in great pain, but the sight of a young woman like Helen would still hold his attention. Gene was mesmerized by her. She lifted off her top and amazing taut breasts sprung out and buoyantly bobbed on her chest. Macon gasped, she was that perfect, and Ruth laughed; she knew what was coming next, and it wasn't him.

Helen reached down and unzipped her short black leather skirt. She was wearing nothing under her skirt, except a delicate princk harness, which strapped her semi-rigid beast to her left thigh. Macon lunged back and away and uttered a horrible scream as the testicle tether stopped him short. He fell over hard, having almost ripped his balls off, and sat there clutching his balls and crying and rocking.

"Let me explain," said Dr. Miller. "Your balls are ours, we own them and they are trapped. One hundred men could not snap that chain attached to your pathetically small balls. The chain attached to the collar around your neck is connected to a winch above the ceiling. If either my little girl or I give an audio command, you slowly go up, then chains become taut, your balls rip off because your neck is more firmly attached to your body than your balls are, and then you hang by your neck, try to hold yourself up, go into shock from your bleeding balls, and suffocate. It's that simple. We lower you down, lift the grate in the corner above the sewer channel, dump your body in, and hose down the room. It's that simple. Do you understand?"

Gene looked at the chains and the large grate in the corner and nodded his head. Helen walked very close to him. It wasn't that her princk was that enormous (it was quite large), but on her it looked like a baseball bat.

"Gene, I'm going to unstrap my princk and find out how flexible your rectal tissues are. Do you under stand." His eyes widened and he nodded again.

"Because I'm such a nice kid, I'm going to give you a chance to lubricate me with your saliva. Do you understand?"

Gene nodded.

"Well what would you like: a dry, hard rape, or a lubricated rape."

Gene had heard about princkmistresses and tried desperately to back away from Helen, but of course the testicle collar limited his options.

"That's okay, Gene, I understand. It's a hard, very hard decision, and you're a little scared and confused, so I'll make it for you."

She stepped directly in front of him and kicked him hard in the balls. His exposed testicles, already straining against the testicle collar, had nowhere to hide, and she did real damage, as she knew she would.

"All we were asking for Gene, was a little cooperation. Oh well, when you make up your mind about the wet or dry issue, just let me know."

But it was hard for Gene to talk at this moment, or answer her; he was in tremendous pain as wave after wave of agony rushed from his groin across his body. As he bent over, she slapped his face hard, once, twice, again, again, again. He went down on his face but she rolled him over onto his back and pulled both of his arms out to each side. Then she got around by his head and placed her left knee, hard, on his right biceps and her right knee, hard, on his left biceps, and dug her sharp, shapely knees down into the painful part of his arms, paralyzing them and taking his arms out of what little fight he had left. Her princk waved menacingly above his face and she grabbed it at its base like she was trying to gain control of a wildly moving, dripping fire hose. She let out a conquering boast and wrenched open his mouth with her left hand and shifted her pelvis back and then aimed and held her princk to his lips.

Her princk was gently pulsing and pumping princk precum into his mouth. He had tried to twist away, but she had grabbed his ears and used them as painful handles to direct his mouth in to position.

"Gene," she shouted, "Consider this as a large airborne flying tanker refueling a small, little single engine airplane. You may get more than you need."

The large, pulsing head of her princk was past his lips and pressed up hard against his tortured gums. His gloriously warm, soft, wet convulsing mouth and tight gullet lay just ahead. He tried to push her back with his tongue. How silly, but to Helen it just felt good.

She gave her sensuous hips a slight forward hunch, and the bulbous head of her meaty princk popped past his bloody gums and into the cave of his mouth; his cheeks bulged like a chipmunk with a mouthful of nuts. She savored that moment. Her princk felt so wonderfully hot, she thought she would explode! She took a few relaxing breaths and then began to let herself slide in slowly, deeply. Her princk was fully engorged and his throat was soooo tight. She moved her right hand and placed it gently around his throat so she could feel herself slid in and out, in and out, in and out…. She would pull herself back and forth, letting herself almost leave his mouth, but then ram her thick club back in. He caught a breath now and then, but he wouldn't have lived long if Ruth hadn't intervened.

"Here, I know what you want to do." She whispered in her ear. Helen looked up and pulled out with a loud vacuum slurp and pop! Macon began violently coughing and vomiting; even without an orgasm, a princkmistress issues huge quantities of princkcum. Ruth lifted her skirt and unleashed her monster princk. Reaching into her coat pocket she pulled out six "donuts" and placed then on her shaft to limit the depth of penetration. She wanted her little girl to have a live subject, at least for a while. Helen moved down behind him and Ruth assumed Helen's place by his head and laid her princk on the side of the gasping man's face.

His eyes see her princk for the first time and panic sweeps through him, but her knees are pressing even more heavily into his arms and he is weak from pain and the effects of the princkcum. Of course, with the chains in place he is going nowhere and no one is coming to his aid, just cumming. Ruth grabs his face and guides her monster princkhead to the threshold of his mouth. "Knock Knock," she says, "open up!" She slaps him hard, very hard and he gasps and she thrusts, and her huge princkhead tunnels in and almost snaps in place in his mouth like it was meant to live there full time. Helen looks at her mother. They nod. Gene is absolutely helpless with Ruth in his face. Helen positions her weapon at the rectal point of entry. Pre cum is gushing out. Mr. Macon is "lucky," this will definitely not be a dry entry.

Helen begins to thrust slowly forward. Gene is tight; his anal muscles clench and try to resist her invasion. Even though she's young, she's too big, though not a big as her mother. Gene begins to go crazy. His ass is on fire, the pain is maddening, and he can't breath. Helen nods to his her mother again, and Ruth pulls herself free, panting heavily. "Wow," she thinks to herself, "that was almost a perfect fit." Now, without a princk in his mouth he can breath and get some strength, but there's no way he can throw Helen off or out. Helen's toes grip the tile floor. Gene has pushed around as far as he can; the testicle chain stops him entirely and Helen knows it, it always happens this way.

She's going deeper, his mouth is wide open, but no sound is coming out. Helen is spreading his rectal tissue and is slowly, inch by massive inch, plunging herself in all the way. She can feel her balls tighten up against his ass and her enlarged clit is rubbing against the back of her balls, she's close, close. Helen craves domination and control of the male, at all times and places, no exceptions, and Ruth knows what will get her daughter off. She smiles at Helen and enters Gene' s mouth again. My god, he left it wide open, like a door to be entered. He looks up at Ruth as she rushes over his threshold, but now it's too late. Even with the donuts in place, Ruth is able to give him nine thick inches. He is skewered. He is beginning to choke. His struggles become violent, but helpless. Helen's eyes roll up in her head, her mother's beginning to cum, too, and princksperm is beginning to gush from Genes' nostrils, lips and anus in large quantities. Helen's beautiful breasts heave with jagged breathing and, thrusting wildly, she cums screaming, "Oh, yes, yes, yes!"

Ruth's thrusts are long and hard, in and out. With each backward pull, Gene unconsciously gasps for breath, but he is also beginning to drown as his lungs begin to fill with foul, thick, viscous princk juice. His life at this point is in Ruth's hands. As Gene begins to gather his last desperate strength for his involuntary, convulsive death throes, Helen impulsively reaches forward to caress her mother's breasts and nipples. "Oh, sweet child, that was so sweet, so sweet." Ruth's final powerful massive thrusts consume her as she lunges her pelvis forward, pushing Helen and the expiring, shuddering Gene backwards as she explodes and massive amount of foul princk juice flood out of Gene's mouth and nose. "Oh, sweet, oh sweet!" moans Ruth, and they collapse, still deeply, deeply imbedded in Gene, into each other's arms.

***

"So what's this?" says Sue to her son. "Would you mind explaining what my panties were doing in your mouth?"

End of Chapter Two — Sue Dexter

ã 2003 MystyMason

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

Sue Dexter—Chapter Three

Dangling her panties in front of his face, sopping wet with Robert's lustful saliva, Sue sternly asks her son, "Would you mind explaining what my panties were doing in your mouth?"

It was difficult to determine whether Robert's red face was more the result of the panties his mother held before him in her right hand, or the pains inflicted by her left hand's steady pulling of the stocking noose he had placed around his balls during his ritual of motherly love. Either way, he was in significant pain.

"I … I … don't know."

"Do you like to have my panties in your mouth?"

"I … I … don't know."

"Robert," Sue leaned closer to him, her robe falling further apart, "Do you understand what I'm asking you?"

"I … I … think so."

"Good, then repeat my question, out loud." Robert delayed. "Do it!"

"Do I like to have your panties in my mouth????" Robert started crying again. "I can't think."

"Robert, if hanging you by your pathetic little balls will help you think, I will do it." And with that she began to hoist him off his bed by her stocking.

"I'll tell you, I'll tell you, I'll tell you!!! Arghggrrr!! Please stop, agrherr!"

She let him fall back on the bed.

"Well, Robert. Do you like to have my panties in your mouth?"

"Yes," Robert _whispered his voice barely audible.

"Speak up, you pathetic little mouse."

"Yes, … yes, I do, mother," Robert said, his teary eyes lowered and head bowed in deep humiliation.

She leaned over and said very softly to him, "Robert, since you like to put my panties in your mouth, all you need to do is ask me for my permission. And if you've been good, very, very good, I let you put them in your mouth, very deep in your mouth. How would you like that?"

Robert looked at his mother, a bit shocked and confused, and nodded.

"Your dentures," she said. Robert reached up to his mouth and removed them. Sue Dexter glanced toward the wastepaper basket by his bed and moved her head in its direction. Robert sadly dropped his teeth into the basket and looked at his mother hopefully. "Open wide, sweetie. This is only the first of many things I will be inserting in your mouth. You're going to love it." And with that she kissed her panties and placed them deep in his mouth, making him gag and turn bright red.

"Robert, our relationship is going to change very fast in the next few days. We have to be able to trust each other. I want you to be very honest with me." She looked at him seriously, although she almost had to laugh to see him with her panties in his mouth and his balls still stretched by her grip on the stocking. "Robert, do you have any more of my clothing in your room? Think real hard, Robert." Her voice took a dangerous edge, and she yanked on the stocking so hard he yelped.

"Yes, yes, I … think … so."

"Show me."

"Mommy, may I please untie your stocking from my … my … balls?" said Robert with his voice drifting off.

"Speak up, Robert!"

"Mom, may I untie my balls?"

"I'll do it Robert, I don't want you ruining my stocking!" With that, she sat down on the edge of his bed, her bathrobe falling away from her tanned, smooth legs. She pulled him closer to her by her stocking, and then leaned over him, her face inches from his crotch, her bathrobe fully exposing her firm, full breasts. She worked her sharp fingernails and strong fingers into and around the tight little knot which bound her son's future ability to parent (not likely), his ability to mature in a masculine manner (not likely), and source of sexual tension and frustration (very likely). She was very deft and soon had rescued her jet-black stocking from the greedy grasp of his clutching testicles.

"Now, Robert, show me your hidden cache of Mommy's delicate clothing. Don't leave any out; none, Robert or I shall beat you 'til you scream! Do you understand? I won't have a little thief in my house. Now, show me."

Robert got up and staggered a bit as the pain from the blood rushing back to his balls hit him. Sue tried her best to keep from snickering, but a laugh burst from her lips. Robert walked around his room finding the little treasures he had buried, like a dogs with bones, and she praised him by patting him on the head or stroking his body, telling him what a good boy he was. After a few minutes he had a small pile of her intimate underthings on the foot of his bed.

"Robert, we are beginning a new relationship, one based on trust. I need you to make a promise to me, a promise never to masturbate again without my permission. Are you willing to do that? Robert nodded. "That's a good boy. Come, I'll give you a special reward."

Dr. Stacy Phillips sat at her large desk in her spacious offices of FemTech's Research Institute headquarters. Stacy, like so many officers and employees of FemTech was quite beautiful. It was apparent to anyone associated with FemTech that these women were achieving great strides in personal health, longevity, strength and, especially, sexual energy and stamina. Stacy Phillips was no exception. Age no longer seemed to be much of a factor for these women, and all of them were more than a bit intimidating to men. "Dr. Phillips, Dr. Michael Dolin from the Family and Society Mission is here to see you about the Pens."

"Ah, our friend from the FSM. Please show him right in, Betty."

"Yes, Ma'am."

This was Michael Dolin, MD's first visit to FemTech's research laboratories in Bay City. He had been quite outspoken in the press against FemTech's projects and products, particularly the wildly popular princks that more and more women were obtaining. But what brought him to FemTech today were the rumors of men captured or trained (?) or addicted in some way who were living their lives out in some form of captivity within the secretive walls of the FemTech corporate empire.

Mr. Dolin was selected as the primary field investigator for FSM, partially because of his reputation and experience as a research scientist for a major East Coast university, as well as for his abhorrence of the princk movement.

Well, well, Dr. Dolin, it's good to finally meet you. I've heard so much about you and your genetic research studies. We may have something in common."

"Let me be right out front with you, Dr. Phillips. I don't approve of what FemTech does, and I don't approve of the way it does them. Families, traditional families, have been doing quite well without this … this… perversion your company has been generating."

Dr. Phillips just smiled calmly. "Go on, Dr. Dolin."

"Families need to be governed and controlled by the men. Women should serve the interests of their husbands and their children. A woman's place is to give birth and serve her family, particularly her husband, of course, but also her sons. The man protects and provides and the lady knows her place. That's the natural way, the way the Lord intended, and that's the way it is in my family with my wife, two young sons and daughter. Believe me, my wife and daughter definitely know their limited, but very important roles in our family. What your company does is simply a sin against nature, and quite disgusting, as well."

"Dr. Dolin, I hope you're not saying that it's improper for a woman to make choices to improve her life as she sees fit. Haven't we gotten over that issue of male dominance yet?"

"Ms. Phillips, it certainly isn't an issue of male dominance, it's an issue of what's morally and naturally right and wrong. It is not morally right for a woman to play a man's role in a relationship, marriage or otherwise. It's not natural, not natural at all. Frankly, it sickens me!"

"Well, Dr. Dolin, it certainly is good of you to get your cards out on the table. Your reputation said that you would not be afraid to speak your mind, and you certainly have not held much back. However, I'm a bit concerned about something. You fervently complain about what FemTech does, and you want to find out more about FemTech and what we do, but it's not clear whether you've ever actually done any direct research into the subject about which you feel so passionate."

"I know all I need to know. Believe me, I've heard horror stories."

"But have you ever even seen what you're so upset about? A women's princk … a bit of living flesh at the juncture of her thighs."

"Please, Dr. Phillips, stop being lewd."

"Dr. Dolin, I think you're blushing a bit." She laughed.

"I want to know about the "Pens. Do you have sexual prisons for men?"

"I'll answer your questions, but first I want to know how you can justify calling yourself a research scientist with out having ANY direct knowledge of the subject you espouse upon? Come. Let's try to relax a bit, you seem a bit tense." Stacy Phillips got up from behind her desk and walked over to a set of comfortable chairs separated by a fashionable small coffee table. "Come, join me, I won't bite."

Before, Dr. Dolin actually felt a little protected by the large desk that separated them. He had to admit to himself that the dark haired Stacy Phillips was impressive in many ways … her wealth, degrees, and now he could see her impressive physical stature and beauty, and there seemed to be something else. He couldn't quite name it, but it was powerful and there just the same.

"Dr. Dolin, if you're truly interested in learning about the "Pens," as you call it, and the men who inhabit them, you might have a little professional curiosity about how they may have gotten there, or chose to go there, or were selected to go there, or begged to go there, or whose wives or female acquaintances petitioned us to take them there. We are carrying out research with men as subjects, but the use of human subjects is quite common. For college students, it's a regular way of earning extra money."

"This is different, Dr. Phillips. Your subjects, rumor has it, aren't free to leave!"

"And you, Dr. Dolin, are not much of a research scientist if you operate out of rumor, when the ability to do direct, hands-on research is right before you."

Stacy leaned back and purposely, gracefully, sat carefully erect, chest out. She could see his eyes dart about not wanting to look at her proud large chest and narrow waist; but he did, and she could see a bit of longing for her in his eyes. It was always the first step in the little experiment she would carry out right now.

"Dr. Dolin, would you like to see what this fuss is all about? I would be willing to do so, and answer your questions along the way."

"I … I ... don't think it would be proper, Dr. Phillips."

"This is an opportunity that most men don't ever get, Dr. Dolin, an opportunity to examine a princk, carefully, under good lighting, in a non-threatening atmosphere, with a friendly princkmistress. I'm not going to hurt you, Dr. Dolin, I'm going to educate and inform you. The real question is are you interested in the truth, or do you just talk a good game like the others? Are you a real research scientist like I am, or are just a scared little boy afraid to know the truth?"

Michael Dolin maintained an awkward silence and Dr. Phillips looked at him with sincere curiosity. She leaned back and amused herself by crossing and uncrossing her long, stockinged legs. For some time the only sounds in the room were their breathing and the sssusshing sound of her silk stocking rubbing against each other.

"Well, Dr. Dolin, I think," and she started to get up, "you're just wasting my time. Good day."

"Uh. Uh. Wait, uh … please. This is so unusual. I mean, this is not how I do most of my research."

"No, Dr. Dolin, this is not a sterile lab, it's real life. It's field research; it's the way FemTech made most of its progress. We didn't run away from opportunities, we seized them. What about you? Are you ready to learn about your 'enemy?' You must know your enemy if you want to defeat her. But, … of course, if you're too afraid, we'll just call it a day."

"No, no … please sit down. I think I would like to find out more. You're being honest with me. I mean about being the enemy. It's true. I do feel that way. I mean you're right. Oh, I'm not sure what to do."

"Do what all real research scientists do, leap at the chance to study what you want to know more about." She paused. ... "I don't have all day; shall we get started?"

Michael Dolin took a deep breath and said, "Yes."

"Now Dr. Dolin, any time you want to leave, please just say so, and I'll stop. Do you understand?"

Michael Dolin nodded his head.

"Okay, first let me lift up my skirt so that you can get a look at what all this commotion is about. In a very casual manner Stacy shifted her chair closer to the coffee table, scooched to the edge of her seat and lifted the front flap of her skirt.

Just at that time, Betty came in and asked if she could get them any refreshments. Dr. Dolin was mortified, but Stacy simply asked him if he wanted a cup of coffee, spring water, tea, or any thing else. "Please Dr. Dolin, don' be so nervous, this is not about sex, it's about science, and FemTech is a scientific research center. All of us here are your colleagues, even if you don't count us among your friends."

Betty left and came back with a cool drink for Dr. Phillips. Stacy then lifted her skirt flap again and, with her left hand, lifted her beautiful princk and placed it heavily on the coffee table between them. Betty, as she was leaving the room, looked over her shoulder and rolled her eyes at Dr. Dolin's reaction. She thought for a second that he was going to get up and run.

"Are you all right?!" Dr. Philips asked.

"It's so la … la … large," he stammered.

"Well, yes. It's a princk."

"Look at it close up, it won't bite you."

He leaned closer, as if examining a rattlesnake that had escaped its cage.

"Would you like to know about this … thing I have hanging so sweetly between my legs? Please, don't be so nervous. You know, it's connected to my pelvis and it's not going any where without me," she laughed. Somehow, that reassured him a bit.

End of Chapter Three — Sue Dexter

ã 2003 MystyMason

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

Chapter Four — Sue Dexter

Back at the Dexter estate, Sue brought little Robert into her bedroom for a "reward."

"Robert, I'm going out tonight. I want you to help me with my stockings. Here, open this box and take them out." Sue handed Robert a box of black silk stockings and then, turning her back to Robert, dropped her robe and slipped on an almost invisible black thong and black lace bra and then turned toward Robert. He was frozen in sexual awe. She towered over him— a terrible beautiful presence.

"Okay Robert, put them down on the bed and hold this. Hey, are you listening?" (She knowingly smirked to herself.)

She handed Robert a black lace garter belt, with four thin delicate straps.

"It's about time you learned how to do something useful. Here, place it around my waist. No. No, you have it backwards; turn it around. That's better. What's the problem, you never stole one of these from me? If you don't get it right quickly, I'll buy little short stockings for you to wear, so you can learn how the garter belt works. Would you like that?" Robert shook his head. "Okay then, do it right."

At that very real threat, Robert snapped out of his sexual stupor.

"Robert, take a stocking, get on your knees, and place the stocking on my right foot … carefully … no runs now, that's it … begin to draw it up my leg … that's right. Now, stop, get in front of me and get down on your knees again. That's right. Now bring the stocking up to where the garters are. Good, now straighten it out. Hmm, good. Now, do you see those wrinkles? Yes. Yes, smooth them out with your hand. Oh, Robert, stop shaking so much. I do believe you're excited. Oh, Robert, look at your little penis, it's sticking out. Not very far, but it's trying to and that's so sweet. Okay, now, pay attention. Make it real smooth, no wrinkles and nice and tight. Now slip the garter belts under the waistband of my thong; that's important for what I'm going to do later. It allows me to take off my panties and leave these sleek stockings and garter belts on my legs. That would be pretty, wouldn't it?"

Robert kept nodding his head and began taking jagged breaths.

"Oh, Robert, it must be hard to do it and shake so much at the same time, those snaps are so small. Just take a few deep breaths. Oh, that didn't help much, did it? Oh, well. Gosh, Robert, you're shaking harder."

Robert's face was right in front of his mother's silky thighs, and even breathing for him was difficult.

"Now try to concentrate, Robert, and see if you can hook the garters on. Very good, you figured it out. Now, do it all over again, this time on my left foot and leg."

She stood watching herself and Robert in the dressing table mirror as he worked the other stocking on her left leg, smoothed it on and, shaking, fastened the garters; he was becoming well trained. Now was the time for a special treat, for both of them.

"Robert, as long as you're down on your knees, I want you to go over to my dressing table and look beneath the top of it.

Robert crawled over to the dressing table.

"Well, what do you see?"

Robert looked at the locking throat and armbands his mother had her carpentress install beneath the leading edge of her dressing table. It did not look friendly.

"It looks like holders, like a dog collar or something."

"Yes, Robert, those are on the front edge of the bottom of the table. But look farther back, what do you see there?"

Robert was silent.

"Go ahead, Robert, describe it."

"It looks like a … big … penis, a penis attached to a little railroad track."

"Very good description, Robert. The three holders, the collars, as you say, are restraints — one for your left wrist, one for your right wrist, and one for your neck. They will keep you from moving around when I want to keep you still. If you do not do exactly as I ask, and if you move around too much, I will insert the inflatable hydraulic dildo into your anus as a punishment and so you can't move back away from me when I want you to do something for me, or when I want to do something to you! Do you think I will have to put that thing in your rear end, or will you be good?"

"I'll be good! Oh, I'll be very good, mommy. Please don't do that to me. It's too big."

"Well, we'll see. Go ahead and back yourself under the table and get yourself in position." She moved and blocked his way out from under the table, just in case he developed a little courage or good sense. But her presence there caused him to capitulate and he raised his arms to the restraints. She knelt down and fastened his right wrist, then left wrist to the outer restraints. "Raise your head Robert," she purred. He did, and she slipped the restraint around his throat, tightened it, and tightened it again. She began to swoon at his open fear.

"Mommy, it's so tight!"

"I know, Robert. It's supposed to be tight, to control you completely and remind you that you're a boy and I'm a woman and this is your place in life. And, Robert, if you argue with me, I'm going to have to insert the make-believe penis into you. Do you understand?"

"I think so."

"You're not going to argue with me any more, are you?"

"Oh, no, mother. Please, no!"

Sue Dexter stood up and began to slip off her thong panties. She let them fall to the floor and walked over to her son, bringing her rolling computer desk chair with her. She stood in front of him with her inner thighs gently bracketing his head. He began to quietly sob and shake. Her sexual energy was crushing Robert's will, confusing and overwhelming his mind and body. She rubbed her legs against him and then told him to look up. Sue's finely contoured shaven vagina was directly before him. She sat down on the chair and rolled forward so that her sex was immediately below his face. She tilted her pelvis forward and up and then pressed the chair's vertical control so that the floor of the seat and her hips slowly inched up.

"Robert, you are a very lucky little boy. Don't turn your head away, and be prepared to use your tongue and lips when I tell you to." Robert breathed heavily. She pressed the lever once again and Robert's face began to touch Sue's sweet vaginal lips.

"Now, Robert. Start licking. Remember, Robert, the make-believe princk is right behind you. It's so lonely there and wants to be part of our lovemaking. Should I let it?"

"Mrff no, smrurff, no."

"Robert, keep licking, and start sucking too. Kiss me deeply with your tongue. I'm going to move myself so that you are very, very close into me."

She touched the lever again and the chair seat slightly rose. Inexorably, his nose slipped between the slippery folds of her vaginal lips and into her as his mouth was pressed into the sopping wet swamp of her lower sex. He thought of the threat of the fake penis poised behind him and licked and sucked vigorously as he tried to breathe.

Sue didn't think it was going to be this easy, this fast, or this intense. Her hands gripped the tops of her strong muscled thighs as surges of sexual energy erupted across the length of her magnificent body. Now it was Sue who was shaking and crying out.

"Yes, Robert, Yes! Don't you dare stop! Yes! Ummm, do it, ahhh, do it, ahh, ummm, yes. YES!!! Ahhh!!!"

Floods of femcum gushed out of her and up into his mouth and nose. He was having trouble breathing and began to buck his head about to throw her away from his nose and mouth, but she and her pneumatic chair were too much and Robert's unrecognized attempts to escape (and to breathe) just became for Sue part of a vigorous sensual act.

Just as Robert began to see spots and pass out, his mother pulled herself back and slowly began to separate herself from his face. As she leaned back and looked down, she could see her wet vaginal lips begin to gently release their grip on the sides of Robert's face, and his nose and mouth exit from their anointed places within her velvety smooth sexual lair. His face fell forward and he hung motionless from the restraints, but she could see that he was still breathing.

"Yes, Robert, yes," she said to herself, "this was a very, very good beginning. But, wait until next week," and she kissed him on the side of his face, licking her lips and tasting her own sticky goo. "Yes, wait until next week."

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Back at the FemTech Institute, Dr. Stacy Phillips was having her little discussion with research scientist, Dr. Michael Dolin.

•••

"Let's proceed with the lesson and, remember, I will answer all of your questions; just ask."

She continued, "A princk exudes three different major substances. At repose, in a state of quietude, it simply rests, you might say, gathering strength for the night or day ahead. When it first becomes interested in sexual activity, its entire surface secretes a fine thin layer of lubricant. Not greasy, just extremely slippery and with other very interesting qualities, as well. Please, if you would like, touch my princk and see if you can make it sexually react to you.

"I … I don't know. I've heard that that could be dangerous. "

"Really, Dr. Dolin, were doctors, scientists. Don't be such a baby."

"Uh, Dr. Philips, I … I."

"For goodness sake, just get on with it, unless you want to go home to your mousy little wife," she said scornfully.

"How, how do I do it."

"Please, Michael, don't be such a child. You have a penis don't you? You know what you like done to it, how it likes to be touched. Do something to my princk that you would like me to do to your penis."

He was entranced by it ... by her openness and brashness. He tentatively leaned forward and petted it, like a child would pet a long, sleek weasel. And like an animal, it began to imperceptibly move, toward him, lengthening slightly. Stacy was exercising intense control, and she knew how to do it. Dr. Dolin was potentially quite dangerous in his anti-princk organization. Now was the time to deal with him.

"Michael," the sound somehow seemed a bit far away. "Betty is back again; would you like something to drink? A cold beer, perhaps?"

"Yes, no, ah, all right," he said with distraction. He was beginning to become a bit mesmerized; Stacy was snake-charming him. Betty had seen this sequence of events so often, she laughed out loud, then covered her mouth. Dr. Dolin might have heard that laugh, but he was too absorbed, way too absorbed.

"Now, Dr. Dolin, can you begin to feel the lubricant?"

He looked up at Stacy, his eyes seeking permission, and then back down at the magnificent appendage extending from her body.

"That's right, Doctor, you can rub it and I'll tell you more."

Michael looked up at Stacy again to see if she really meant it, and she warmly returned his looked and then nodded down toward her princk. He took her cue and began to rub her princk, ever so gently. Although she fascinated him, he was instinctively afraid of her, as he should have been.

"Michael, do you feel the lubricant on your hands?"

"Uh, yes. It feels, slightly … numb. Hmm, not numb, but maybe a … little, ah … relaxed."

"Very good, Michael. That's a side effect of the lubricant. It has a relaxing effect on any male who touches it. Some might even describe it as having a paralyzing effect, but relaxing is a much better description."

"Um, sure," he said, barely listening to her.

"Princk lubricant is a very powerful physical and psychological tranquilizer. It is like the small snake that bites the large rat and then can take its time swallowing it. Do you have any questions, Michael?"

"I … heard ... that princkcum is addictive. Is it?"

"Well, Michael, let's work towards princkcum and I'll tell you when we get there. But before princkcum, there's princk precum. Precum is clear and odorless, but quite nasty tasting. The princk lubricant is also odorless, and has a slightly bitter almond-like taste and odor. Taste it if you like."

He looked up at Stacy. "Sure, go ahead. Do it for science," she said.

"Yes, for science," he thought to himself.

Dr. Michael Dolin leaned over and touched her organ with the tip of his tongue, and then began to lick her thick princk. It tasted quite awful, but it made his tongue feel strange, ... interesting; what was it? He was a bit intoxicated by the odor he couldn't quite smell that princks gave off in their early stages of sexual tumescence. Stacy gently took his head by his hair and teasingly slowly lifted him away from her princk. But his licking had already had a huge effect on her princk, and on him.

"Michael, do you see the precum coming out of my princk. Get off the chair and kneel down to get a good close look.

He slid out of his chair and lowered himself to his knees in front of her growing princk.

"Well, Michael, what do you see?"

It was quite amazing. As he examined her princk, he could see the precum not just seeping out of her, but pulsing out, strongly. Betty came back with Michael's beer and knowingly had something else in her hand.

"Here, Dr. Dolin," said Nurse Betty, "Here's a saucer, put it down on the floor to catch the flow." By this time the length of Stacy's penis extended slightly beyond the width of the coffee table.

"Precum, they say, Michael, is quite addictive. Would you like to taste that too, … as an experiment, … to see if that "rumor" is true?"

"I … I ... don't know."

"Okay, let's just stop here." Stacy began to get up once again, but Michael quickly reached forward and placed his right hand gently under the head of her princk. God, it was so large and thick and smooth.

"No, please stay, I'll ... I'll do it," Dr. Dolin urged.

"Okay. Good, very good," Stacy purred and comfortably lowered herself back into her seat.

"First place your tongue right in the princk-hole and try to stop the flow of the precum. Yes! Ah, that's soooo good! You're doing it ... yes ... quite well. Now, when I tell you when, I am going to want you to pull your tongue out, cover the head of my princk with your lips, and suck ... hard. It will taste very bad, but this way you will get enough to fully understand the effects of princk precum. It is quite powerful and I will help you take a good sample. You do want me to give you a good sample, don't you? Look at me and nod if you do."

Dr. Dolin looked up at Stacy and nodded, and then shifted his eyes to her princk which stretched out before him, his tongue slavishly restraining the precum churning within her.

Stacy calmly looked down at his absurdly subservient posture. Dr. Dolin's life was about to forever change (it actually already had), and Stacy and Betty's eyes exchanged knowing glances. With a simple hand gesture, Stacy signaled Betty to get the FemTech equipment that would facilitate Dr. Dolin's transformation. But first, it was Stacy's very personal equipment that would facilitate Dr. Dolin's transformation.

"Okay," Michael, "Do it, NOW!"

Michael's tongue flew out of her princkhole and his lips and open mouth went over the head of her princk. Stacy's hands quickly went to the back of his head and her princk began to pump out huge quantities of foul precum. The taste of it put Dr. Dolin into a state of shock, and he first struggled to get free of Stacy's grip on the back of his head, but she was much too strong. He then slumped forward with his hands twitching on the coffee table and his numbing lips and mouth still attached to Stacy's princkhead. Stacy knew what she was doing.

While he was in this stunned state, the precum would continue to pump freely into him, and he would swallow it like a sleeping baby at a mother's breast. He was definitely going to learn about addiction and eventually perhaps the "Pens" where the long, long-term effects of princk juices on male are studied.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••

While Dr. Michael Dolin was in this comatose condition, Betty came in with the brace and frame. "Okay, Betty," Stacy smirked, "Set him up."

Stacy casually released her grip on Michael's head, got up, and walked around the room, her fully engorged princk swinging menacingly as she moved. Betty began to attach the head brace (and mouth guard) to Dr. Dolin. It was quite cruel. It bent his head and neck backward at a very harsh angle leaving his mouth wide open and his neck and throat fully exposed and straight. Then his wrists and ankles were cuffed to a vertical frame, keeping him on his knees, upright and desirably helpless.

"Wake him!" Stacy directed. Betty poured water on his face and he slowly came around.

"Dr. Dolin, this is your last lesson about princk juices — mature princkcum. It is very, very … even lethally addictive. I have to do it with you restrained, and a mouth guard in place, so that you are not physically damaged by a direct, princk incursion down your throat. What we will do is place a gentle latex funnel in your mouth and down your throat, along with this tube of flowing warm water. Princkcum is very foul and thick. The water will dilute it slightly and allow it to flow into you without choking you. If you rather have me insert my princk down your throat in its fully engorged state, let me know."

Michael looked at her and shook his head violently, to the extent he could shake it at all.

"First, Doctor, you need to sign this release authorizing me to allow you to carry on this experiment on princk juices and releasing us from liability. All standard, you know."

Betty uncuffed his right wrist, put a pen in his hand, and held up the paper on a pad. He looked at Stacy and realized everything was too late. He couldn't speak, only make small painful sounds, which the women sarcastically imitated. His eyes darted from one cold efficient face to the other and his chest heaved to breath; he was in a state of terror, and he signed. "Put this in the safe with the others," Stacy laughed.

Then she walked over to him. "Your hand, Michael. You know, … just make believe it is just you and your little penis at home … all by yourself. Stroke me with your hand," and he did. Within seconds huge quantities of princkcum began to gush forth from Stacy's massive princk. The brace and mouth guard prevented even a very controlled princk mistress, such as Stacy, from violently raping Dr. Dolin's throat while in the throes of her sexual discharge.

Betty and other trained nurses, all wearing gloves, directed Stacy's thrusting princk and the foul, thick cum into the latex funnel. One of the nurses re-cuffed his right hand to the frame, and the warm water trickled into the funnel and the whole-jelled mass of cum began its trip down Michael's exposed throat. Stacy's orgasm took over five minutes and it took almost one hour before her princkcum was fully swallowed by Dr. Dolin.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••

After his ordeal with the princkcum, Dr. Dolin was released from the frame, had the head/neck brace removed, and staggering, was taken by the nurses and given a shower. He was then brought naked before Stacy who was wearing an extremely low cut dress, the top half of her perfect full globes expansively displayed before him.

"Well, Dr. Dolin," do you feel that you've learned more about the "enemy," as you call us?"

Michael Dolin stood looking down at his feet and his mildly extended abdomen, filled with princk discharge and water.

"I want to go home."

"Hmm? Speak up, I can't hear you."

"I want to go home, please."

"Of course you do," Stacy said in a falsely concerned way.

"Betty, get Dr. Dolin his clothes."

Stacy turned to the humiliated vulnerable naked male who now passively begged her to be allowed to leave the FemTech office to go home.

"And you, Dr. Dolin, I have so very much enjoyed our little discussion. And I am extremely glad that I could be of help to you with your 'hands-on' research. I do hope and expect to see you again very soon to have further discussions about the addictive quality of princk juices. I must say, I was impressed by your bravery, although a little surprised at your foolishness."

Dr. Dolin was still a bit groggy. "Betty, help the good doctor into his clothes, will you. I want him to look decent when I have our security officers return him to Marsha, his wife. I'm sure she will have some interesting questions for him, especially when she smells his breath. It takes a while to begin to smell like a human being after imbibing the amount of princk juice he did."

She looked at Michael. "You know, Dr. Dolin, very few men can last three days without more princkcum, especially after the initial princking you received. Oh, well, it should be quite the conversation with Marsha … and with your daughter," she said laughing.

"You … know … Marsha?"

"Of course, Dear Doctor. Wasn't she the one who was egging you on last week to 'save the men in the Pens,' and insisting that you come to the Institute to uncover the 'enemy.' Marsha's quite the woman, Michael. By next Sunday night both she and your daughter will be even more 'woman' then you could have ever imagined. You and your two sons are going to go through a change-of-life experience," Stacy said with a laugh.

She moved closer to him, and he lowered his eyes in shame. As she walked around him to review the psychological destruction she had inflicted, she gently ran her hands across his chest and sides and back, and then stopped in front of him, very close, intimately close, with her hands grasping his butt. She looked at his face, but his eyes remained shamefully averted from hers. Her gentle caress of his ass changed as her long sharp fingernails dug into his nether checks and then said more seriously, very seriously as her voice turn menacingly deep, "I think your leadership of your anti-princk organization may be 'cumming' to an end, your end, Dr. Dolin. Good-bye, for now."

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"Mom?"

"Yes, Helen," Dr. Ruth Miller said to her young daughter.

"Mom, can we go to the Pens this afternoon after we go jogging?"

"Sure, I don't see why not. I'll give Stacy a call and set it up. What a great idea!"

End of Chapter Four — Sue Dexter

ã 2003 MystyMason

Any comments and reviews are welcomed.

mystymason172@hotmail.com

Sue Dexter — Chapter 5

Marsha Dolin was sitting in her living room with her daughter, Katy, when the four FemTech Security Officers arrived with Marsha's husband, Dr. Michael Dolin. By all appearances, he didn't look much different than when he left for the FemTech Institute that morning for his appointment with Dr. Phillips.

Marsha had met Dr. Stacy Phillips at an informational seminar put on by FemTech. Michael had forbidden Marsha to attend such things, but Marsha was intrigued by the promise of personal and sexual freedom in her life. Because of Michael's prominence in the anti-FemTech movement, Stacy had singled Marsha out for special attention, and the two of them had spent over two hours at a coffee shop after the official seminar just engaged in "girl talk."

•••

"Well, Michael, how did your meeting with Dr. Phillips go?" Marsha walked over to her sheepish looking husband. She wasn't sure what she would find; Stacy had promised her he would be a changed man. He certainly didn't have any of his customary swagger. As she approached him, she detected a foul odor emanating from his mouth. "Michael, your breath is ... well ... disgusting. What have you been eating?"

The Security Officers giggled amongst themselves, but otherwise remained composed and silent. She was surprised and empowered by Michael's submissive silence.

"Well, Michael, speak up!"

"I… I was doing research … ah … conducting an experiment with Dr. Phillips at the FemTech Institute."

"What kind of an experiment, Michael? Was it interesting?"

"Look, Marsha, my, uhm, professional activities are, uhm, none of your business. I'll take care of the intellectual aspects of our existence and … and … you take care of the house and cleaning."

Stacy had told Marsha that Michael would fight back, and that she should be prepared to act immediately and viciously. Of course, the presence of four Security Officers made her feel especially bold and dangerous. With only slight hesitation, she kicked Michael as hard as she could in his balls.

For a moment, Michael just stood there slightly swaying, as if nothing happened except for the stunned look on his face. Again her leg lashed out and again found its mark. Michael's mouth opened and he tried to speak, but no words came out. His knees began to give way and his hands came feebly forward as if to stop an unseen blow. Again, she struck with her foot, and this time he fell forward, hard, striking his face on the floor. Quickly, he collapsed into a mass of crying, choking, and vomiting male helplessness. His face was beet red and in between his screams and moans, he fought to regain his breath.

"Oh, Mom, that was wonderful!" Katy exclaimed clapping her hands together. "It looked so easy. Was it hard?" Marsha shook her head. "You're the best mom ever! I love you!"

'Ma'am," Chief Tracy Henderson said, "Would you like us to band him?"

"Yes. Yes, of course."

"Okay," Tracy said. "Hand me the adult binding set."

The officers undressed him, then bound his arms and wrists behind him. Then they cuffed his ankles together, and linked them to his wrists. They then attached the spreader to his knees, and adjusted it until it was clearly uncomfortable for him, with his penis and testicles fully exposed and accessible. Medical Technician Officer Marcie Oakfield opened up the small case she had brought with her and knelt down between Michael's legs. "Wow, you got some great kicks in there. Look how swollen his balls are becoming!" The women all gathered around him, and Katy said, "Gosh, they're turning colors already. Nice job, mom."

Marcie took out a set of calipers and did some preliminary measurements, and looked up at Marsha and said, "I'm surprised you had any children. Wow! He's kinda small, isn't he?" They all laughed, except for Michael who was still gasping for breath.

Marcie selected one of the thick titanium bands and showed it to Marsha and Katy. "It's quite simple. This band slips apart at this seam, and" … (grabbing his balls with the other hand and casually stretching his testicle sack away from his body as … far … as … it … would … go) … "closes around the top of his testicle sack… just … like … this (snap), and then tightly locks in place. Only FemTech has the combination. The inner surface of the band contains FemTech's organic micro-slivers which will immediately begin to replicate themselves and intertwine through and around his testicle and penile mass, at least what there is of it," she said contemptuously. "You know, the slivers somehow overrun his balls and penis and stuff. I don't know exactly what it does in there, I just know it doesn't work with princks, and that's all I care about. The band contains a small battery which is constantly being recharged by your husband's own bioelectrical system. It's pretty neat."

"After about thirty-six hours, the micro-slivers will have invaded his spinal cord and eventually work their way into the core of his nervous system. If he took the band off in the first twenty-four hours by ripping his balls off, he would just loss his balls and the functioning of his cock, but he would live."

Marcie looked at Michael, "But if you take it off after thirty-six hours, you lose the functioning of the parts of you that pace your breathing and heartbeat and you die a pretty slow, gruesome death. I've seen it happen many times at the lab when FemTech was perfecting this thing and we were restraining the test subjects. None of them lived."

"So, Marsha, once a male has been banded, like him and soon your sons, FemTech through its global positioning system can always keep track of them and monitor their whereabouts. It's sort of like an anti-stray dog system. You'll always know where they are, and we will always be able to identify them. The band is also 100% compatible for new features and should never be obsolete. If it does get out of date, we'll just place a new one next to this one. Never a charge, of course.

"Isn't nice to know you'll never get lost, Michael?" Marsha laughed.

Marcie continued talking to Marsha and Katy, "There's an upgrade in the works now to use the band as a training or punishment device. Once it's ready for distribution, we'll give each user a companion band. Your bands would contain no micro-slivers, but they would have a powerful little transmitter, and we would train you how to use it to cause the banded male a range of mild to excruciating pain or complete incapacitation or, if you wish, death. The downside shown by our experiments so far indicate that if it's used for punishment too often, and it's so tempting to do so, the banded male's inner electrical system gets fried and he eventually losses strength and the ability to serve. Actually, fried, males are sometimes used for instructional purposes. Quite humorously, at times. You may see some of them at the seminar tonight. Of course, even after we get the punishment band perfected, there's still going to be a break-in period, a learning curve for the user, where males are going to get over-zapped. Don't worry if you fry a few males before you get the hang of it; there are plenty more. I fried my first two banded test males in five minutes before I got the hang of it. One of them is still alive in a comfort station at FemTech's Market Street Field Office. They can actually live quite long if they are fed plenty of princkjuice, and believe me, they are!" she laughed.

"Marcie … Chief Henderson, Security Officer Victoria Nelson said, "Sorry to interrupt you, but here come the sons."

"Excellent, Victoria, excellent. Break out two juvenile binding sets and two more bands and let's get started on them as soon as they walk in."

•••

When the twins, Stevie and Alex, opened the door, Stevie was the first to give Katy, his little sister, the usual greeting, "So, what's new, bitch?" He was quickly echoed by Alex, "Yeah, bitch, what's new?"

Katy simply stood there with her hands on her hips and defiantly said, "Your bandings, assholes! That's what's new!"

Off in the corner to their left they heard their dad moan and saw him painfully bound and ran over to him. "Dad, Dad what's happening?" Alec said, becoming really scared. Katy and their Mom simply stood and calmly watched as the two boys tried to unfasten their dad from the binding set. None of the restraints could be loosened. "Dad, your breath. God, it smells awful. What's going on?" pleaded Stevie.

"It's … it's … too late," he croaked, "I've been banded. You … will … be … too."

Just at that moment, the four officers stepped into the room and smiled at the boys. "It's banding time," they hummed.

•••

Dr. Ruth Miller and her young daughter, Helen, entered the Marshall Avenue Pens Center.

***

The Princk Extended Nutritional Studies ("Pens") buildings were the last stop for a number of banded males of all ages. The studies were, on the surface, quite simple: (1) What happens to a male if he is "fed" nothing but princkjuice over an extended period of time? (2) How long will males live if given nothing but princkjuice? (3) What types of physiological changes take place? (4) What types of psychological changes take place? (5) Which of and to what degree are these changes attributable to the (a) princkjuice, the (b) accommodations, and (c) other factors?

The accommodations were functional for the FemTech Institute. Each male was separately kept within an adjustable barred cage normally maintained at five feet long, by five feet wide, by five feet high, with various chains running from arms, legs, nose, testicles and perineum to various parts of the cube. These were called the "Marionette Controls." There were twenty-four cubes to a room, with each cube no closer than eight feet to another.

Each twenty-four cube room was equipped with high powered water sprays which systematically were turned on to clean every square inch of surface in the room, especially the males. The water then disappeared into vacuum assisted floor drains and then warm blowing air dried off the cages and males. There was very little feces or urine to speak of, because the princkjuices were almost 100% absorbed by the male. And in any event, the worst smell was always the princkjuices, and the hi-tech ventilation and filter systems took care of that. For the women who worked there or visited there, they were able to be in the rooms with no discomfort at all. As for the males … well, it was their way of life and not much thought was given to their comfort.

Actually some thought was given. For example, the sprays were body temperature and not too cold or too hot. The males were immediately dried off and not allowed to stay wet. The rooms were warm and comfortable in the winter and cool and comfortable in the summer. The bars of the cubes were hardened steel, but were covered on sides and top with an almost indestructible closed foam material that was soft to the touch. The bottom of the cube was covered in the same material and the bars were wide and flat to protect the males' arms and legs. Of course, some of these concessions to comfort were really simply necessary for the males' survival and the integrity of the experiment, but they still worked to provide the subjects with some modicum of comfort. Even the International Red Cross agreed that the sanitary and comfort levels of the Pens were within permissible living condition standards for voluntary medical subjects. And each of the males in the Pens had, in fact, signed a release not only authorizing that they be made participating subjects, but specifically asking FemTech to do so, and to do so indefinitely. FemTech was only too happy to oblige, and the Pens system was constantly growing.

Women without princks often volunteered their husbands, brothers, sons, fathers or business partners, and would contact FemTech who took care of the details, such as capture and legalities. Princkmistresses often brought their banded males to the Pens to live out their days as a punishment for disobedience or simply as a ways of disposal. While in the Pens these males were constantly fed princkjuices by women who liked to deal with helpless addicted, submissive males. And it was no surprise that the vast majority of the males were fed by female relatives or prior associates of all ages: ex-wives, daughters, stepmothers, secretaries, teachers, etc.

It was quite simple. Feedings took place at 9:00 A.M., 2:00 P.M., 8:00 P.M., and 3:00 A.M., or at other times upon prior arrangement. The princkmistress simply signed in at the front desk of one of the many Pens Centers and took the elevator to the floor of her choice. The subject male was designated and she would go to his cube. Each male had been given a deep cartilage piercing through his nose and a deep muscle piercing in his perineum, as well as two control collars—one around his neck and one around his balls (next to his banding). If the feeding was to be given orally, the male's nose piercing and neck collar were ratcheted to an opening in the "front" of the cube, and she took him by his mouth until her orgasm released him. If the feeding was to be given anally, his anus and balls were ratcheted to an opening at the "rear" of the cube, and she invaded him rectally. A Princk Security Officer was always present to assist the princkmistress and to act to save the life of the test subject if it caused no inconvenience to the user. Because of the Security Officers abilities, and because of the many changes that princkjuices cause after prolonged feedings, very few deaths occurred.

***

"Hi, Dr. Miller. Here to see Prof. Miller, again? And who do you have with you?"

"Hi, Cindy. I'm here to see William, and this time I've brought our daughter, Helen."

"Ruth, she's beautiful!" Cindy looked at Helen, "Hi, Helen. Is this your first time to see your father here?"

"Yes, it is. I'm so excited. This place is really cool!

"Thanks, Helen. Shall I send an escort with you?" Helen looked to her mother for a response.

"No thanks, Cindy. I certainly know my way there by now."

"Of course. By the way, I'm sure William will be very glad to see you. Per your instructions, we haven't allowed him to be fed for thirty hours." Helen clapped her little hands together with glee.

"Thanks, Cindy. I do want him to be very, very eager to great his daughter."

***

Helen and her mom got off on the sixteenth floor and walked down the gleaming corridor and entered Room 1627.

"Hi, Ruth. This must be Helen."

"Yes, Maggie. Meet Helen, my daughter. Are you going to be our Security officer for today?"

"Yes. Come this way. He'll be anxious to see you. Would you like nostril filters for the smell of the princkcum?"

"No, thanks, said Ruth, "We won't be here long, and the ventilation system seems to be working quite well."

"Sure," said Maggie. "I don't use them anymore either since we switched to the new PR173 Filter System. It seems to be doing a great job."

"Maggie?"

"Yes, Helen."

"There are so many other women feeding their males. Is it usually this busy?"

"Yes, honey. It's almost always pretty busy here. And we're never, never bored. Of course, when it gets a little slow, and sometimes it does during holidays and really bad weather, the staff simply does more of the feedings than usual. Some people complain about the rainy weather, but it just makes us smile!"

***

There, on all fours, on a pneumatically controlled elevated platform, in a clean cube, was ex-professor William Miller. "Hello, William," said Ruth.

William passively lifted his head, saw who it was, and then instinctively backed away. "Oh. Oh. Hello, Ruth. You, ah, ah, look quite well," he meekly said.

"Hi, daddy!" exclaimed Helen

William blanched at his daughter's voice. "Christ, Ruth. Did you have to bring her here to watch?" William said pleadingly.

"Actually, William, she's not here to watch. I am."

"Daddy?"

William swung his head to face her. She was remarkably petite, quite perfectly proportioned, and amazingly strong for her body weight. Because of her small size, certain things about her seemed ... larger, such as her breasts and … . She lifted the front of her skirt and showed him her lovely stiffening princk. "I'm here to examine you, daddy. Say, 'ahhhh.'"

Helen chuckled and nodded to Maggie. Maggie's fingers lifted the waterproof door to the control panel and adjusted the dials controlling the titanium chain that connected William's nose to the front of the cage. Another knob lowered the cube until William's mouth and Helen's sweet princk were on the same level.

"Get ready, daddy." Helen approached the cage like the predator she was; she was stalking his helpless mouth. William tried weakly to resist, and his eyes were open wide with fear. At the touch of a third knob his arms were raised behind him and a fourth drew his neck forward and pressed his mouth firmly to the padded opening between the bars.

Helen began to breathe heavily as she took the next few steps forward. Her swaying princk was already glistening in the glare of the bright lights, and the tip of her pulsing princk pumped slimy precum on the floor. "Sorry, daddy. I shouldn't be spilling your food like that. It's wasteful."

And with that she drove herself into his pinned, open, toothless mouth. Her swollen princkhead temporally stalled at his gums, but she eagerly grabbed the bars and confidently thrust her hips forward popping her princkhead past his gums and towards its journey down his helpless, but very, very snug throat. The standing mouth-rape was sooo good. Helen's young hips rocked and swung freely and sensuously back and forth, while her father reluctantly began to suck the repulsive princkjuice he so desperately needed to live.

He always thought that if this day should arrive, that he would simply somehow not swallow and try to starve himself. But he couldn't do it, and instead he sucked and sucked and sucked hard and well. He looked up at his daughter's beautiful cruel face. She was in a state of transcendent ecstasy and he began to suck at her princk, not just to feed himself, but to give this superior creature the most pleasure he possibly could give. His fear had momentarily changed to abject awe and worship.

And he was doing a good job. While Ruth and Maggie discussed politics and the weather, Helen's pre-cum was gradually replace by princkcum, and Helen began to ruthlessly pummel her father's throat with her long greasy tool.

"Ugh, ugh, ugh," she grunted with each powerful thrust. "Ohh, ohh, daddy, daddy. Oh, daddy! AHHHHHH!" she screamed with her head thrown back which emphasize the forward lunging of her pelvis.

And William seemed to be on the verge of both choking to death and not being able to get enough of her. He both gagged and gasped at the pain and fear he was experiencing, but also empathetically moaned with the pleasure of her excitement, even though he was in pain and her juices were foul. He had, at that moment, transcended his ego and existed solely for his attacker's pleasure, just as he regularly did when Ruth took him. Yes, the FemTech experiments were proceeding well.

Eventually, Helen's orgasm fully depleted her and she barely held herself up by the bars of her father's cage. "Mother," she turned and gasped, "You were so right! That was great!" Helen backed her princk out of her father's throat, and with a gratifying effort, squeeeezed it past his gums, forcing a pleasurable stream of compressed princkcum to squirt deep to the back of William's throat. "Wow! Mom, his mouth is sort of like a circular squeegee!" she squealed with the youthful pleasure of discovery.

She held still for a moment with her still stiff princk barely in his mouth so that it just rested, bobbing on his lower lip. He submissively and adoringly sucked and licked her princkhead as her juices continued to gently flow. Looking up into her cool clear eyes, he pressed his face, like a sexual supplicant painfully into the bars of the cube hoping to continue and enhance his contact, however degrading, with his daughter's penis.

Helen's eyes rolled up into the back of her head triggered by her father's tonguing and his slavish looks and a massive post-orgasmic release shook through her, driving herself this time most viciously into her father's face with an ascendant scream, "Oh, Oh. Ohhhh! Ohhhhh!" as she reached under her T-Shirt and pinched and rolled the nipples of her generous firm breasts and then collapsed, blissfully, against the soft bars of the cage. Ruth and Maggie just looked at each other and arched their eyebrows approvingly.

When Helen finally came around from her sexual wonderment, she pulled her princk steadily back until her father's gums once against warmly squeezed it. "Out you come," purred Helen to her princk. "You can come back for a visit on another day." And with that, she plopped her large purple-headed dragon out of her father's wet, choking mouth.

Her last princkjuice load was "post-orgasmic" which was always of a decidedly thicker, heavily viscous consistency, and William was in serious trouble, and would die without immediate medical attention.

"Wow, girl," said Maggie. "I do believe you plugged him up completely," she said shaking her head and reaching for a small nozzle under the cage. "Damn. Your princk should have a 'Danger' label," she laughed. "You're awesome, kid." Helen and Ruth just beamed. Maggie turned on the warm water and placed a small, soft silicone, gently rounded princkhead on the nozzle and fed it into his non-breathing mouth, past his lips, jaw and tongue and into his throat. Quickly the warm water loosened and broke-up the princkcum obstruction and allowed him to swallow it and breathe again.

Everyone looked relieved. "Umm. Did I do something wrong," asked Helen.

"Girl," said Maggie, "You did everything just right. If I were your mom, I'd be mighty proud. You're something else. Besides, honey, that's what I'm here for, to keep this little experiment going as long as it can. You did just fine."

"Absolutely," said Ruth. "You're just a lot for your father to handle. But it sure looked to me that he was willing to die trying," and they all laughed.

William had finally come around, and the tube was withdrawn from the coughing man's face. He looked up longingly at Helen and Ruth. "Please, please take me home. Please," he earnestly begged.

"Sorry, William," said Ruth, "You know the rules."

"But, but, Ruth… ." But Ruth was not really paying attention to him anymore. He had asked and she had answered, and the discussion was over as far as she was concerned.

"Wow, daddy. You were great! See ya soon," said Helen wiping off her princk with a damp cloth, tossing it in a disposal container, and turning to leave with her mother.

"Wow, mom," said Helen pensively. "He was so, so … fearful, and … subservient and … uhm … passionate. Yes, uhm, and … compliant and … humble. Oh, yeah! I love it, mom. Don't you?"

"It's quite satisfying, Helen, dear. Quite a change and very satisfying."

***

In the hallway, Dr. Ruth Miller with a deep, knowing smile walked past the rooms and rooms of submissive caged males and patted her daughter playfully on her beautiful buoyant butt. "Yes, they're quite submissive, aren't they. Yum."

While Ruth and Helen walked along the long, sterile hallways toward the elevators, which would take them out into the clean, breezy air, Ruth also mused about other FemTech male "volunteers," such as those in "Experimental Group R137," and thought satisfyingly to herself. "Yes. And quite useful, too."

End of Chapter Five — Sue Dexter

ã 2003 MystyMason

_{Any comments and reviews welcomed. Contact Mysty at mystymason172@hotmail.com}

Writers Note: Sue Dexter meets Robert's very special weekend "baby sitter" from FemTech. Would you like being left in her capable hands for a few days, huh? We'll see. And of course, we can't forget about the great outdoors, as Angela and Barbara meet Mitch. Not exactly a happy camper.

Sue Dexter — Chapter Six

Robert still hung from the bottom of Sue's dressing table like an inverted sacrificial lamb ready for a slaughter of some sort. Sue looked at him and then left him where he was and went downstairs and walked through her mansion to her living room. She strolled around thinking about the seminar at FemTech she was about to attend and the dramatic changes that would follow.

The doorbell chimed. For a moment she expected one of the maids to get the door, and then she remember that she had given the servants the days off for this very special weekend. At the door was a young woman from the FemTech Institute.

"Hello, Ms. Dexter. I'm Claire Winslow from FemTech. I'll be staying with your son, Robert, for the weekend."

"My," said Sue, looking at the beautiful women who stood before her, "You're quite young for a FemTech Security Officer, aren't you?"

"Well, yes. But your son is quite young, too, and that's why they sent me. I primarily work with the younger males. I haven't opted for a princk yet, but I'm fully trained and quite strong."

Sue looked her over. Obviously, she could take care of Robert; even a mouse could do that. Examining Claire more closely, Sue could see that Claire was physically quite well toned, with long sinewy muscles. Not bulky-strong, but a dangerous type that might move quickly and snap your neck. Quite a bit like a smaller version of herself, Sue thought.

"How many bandings have you performed, Claire?"

"Actually, Ms. Dexter, I've performed over three hundred, and more than twice that many piercings and piercing intubations. In fact, would you like Robert pierced after I band him? There's no extra charge you know."

Sue laughed to herself at the thought that money might ever be a consideration for her. But she knew that it obviously was an issue for others and she appreciated Claire's comment.

"Well," said Sue, "There are two piercings I'm considering: the nose and the perineum."

"Oh, yes," said Claire. "Excellent choices. The nose is an invisible intubation. We do the piercing and then place a surgical-quality nylon cylinder-keeper through the septum. It remains hidden and quite open, and very easy to attach a ring to it whenever you choose to bind a male to a leash or your princk harness or princk garter. It keeps him at his work, if you know what I mean. I've used that piercing in conjunction with a pelvic harness for forced extended cunnilingus and I'm definitely going to use one on a male after I get a princk."

"The perineum piecing is also a fine choice. It's a deep muscle piercing and a heavy ring is permanently set into the male. You can go to sleep or do anything you want and your princk will stay nice and warm and cozy with that piercing and harness working together," she laughed. "And you can always have these piercings done at any time if you don't want them done now. We'll come over whenever you like."

"Actually, Claire," sad Sue, "I've pretty much made my decision as to those types of piercings. But, please go on."

"Okay. I also understand that you've already had his teeth removed," said Claire. "That's great. It's always one of the most traumatic aspects of the male's initiation into his new life. You've done Robert a big favor by getting it done when he was so young and not waiting to the last minute. I've seen many males have a princk forced down their throats, and it's always somewhat less traumatic if their gums aren't still bleeding and tender from having all their teeth and teeth buds removed. Yes, you did Robert a real service."

Sue's breathing began to deepen a bit as Claire recounted seeing males orally raped. Sue remembered her epiphany, when Clarissa took Roger at the Club. That's where Sue's desires to do that exact same thing really took hold. For a moment she was lost in a daydream of sensual imaginings.

"Um, um, Ms. Dexter? Can I see where little Robert is before you leave for the Seminar?"

"Oh. Yes," said Sue, coming out of her sexual musings. "Of Course. Follow me. Claire, tell me, why no princk for you yet?"

Claire laughed. "Ms Dexter, having a princk causes FemTech's princked Security Officers to be sorely challenged when presented with trussed-up little males like the one I think you've got here. You've made it perfectly clear in the mandate that when you get back from the Institute, Robert is to still be a virgin. FemTech likes to send a pre-princk Security Officer on sensitive cases like this one, to avoid indiscretions caused by princk-enhanced sexual urges."

"Excellent, Claire. But I'll tell you this. Feel free to use him any other way you want. Maybe even make love to him. Give him a taste of what he'll never get again. That is if you can get that little dick of his up into you," she mockingly said.

"Oh, I'll have to see how pathetic he is. I might be able to manage. I actually like taking advantage of my charges."

They both smiled thinking how similar they were in some ways.

•••

Sue Dexter's mansion was spectacular, with every type of convenience available, and all very tasteful and understated. She just happened to like the best and could afford it. As they walked though Sue's home, they made some small talk about the weather, latest movies, etc.

When they entered Sue's bedroom, Robert had come fully around and began to fret when he saw Claire, a stranger. Claire walked right over to him and knelt down.

"Hi, Robert, I'm Claire Winslow from FemTech. I'm going to stay with you this weekend. Sort of baby sit you and get you ready for when your Mom comes home on Sunday afternoon."

The color immediately vanished from Robert's face.

"Mom. Mom! You're not going to FemTech, are you? She said FemTech. Please don't do that. Oh, nooo!"

Even as young as Robert was, he knew what FemTech was about and what happened to you if your mother went there on a Friday night.

"Are you going to get a princk? Please say no, mommy." Robert started to sob. "No, no, Mommy. I'll do anything you want. Just please don't do it."

"Oh, Robert. You're so silly," Sue said consolingly. "You're going to do anything I want, anyway. Of course, I'm going to get a princk."

"What are you crying about, Robert?" Claire said. "Your mother is so beautiful. You're going to be spending much more time together in a very intimate way. I think you're lucky."

But Robert could not be consoled, and he struggled against his bonds and cried and screamed and tried to thrash himself out of his solid restraints, with his legs kicking wildly behind him. Sue and Claire simply got up and walked out of the bedroom and downstairs to the living room.

"Claire, I definitely want him banded and pierced, one in the nose and one in the perineum. And because of the embarrassing little scene up there, I want him given the two penile piercings as well: the ampallang piercings. You know, the ones right through the head of his penis and the other through its base, both with the titanium locking rings. His little dick isn't good for much else and he needs to understand that I own everything in this house, including him and every part of him. And Claire, when you pierce his penis, tell him why. He is never to embarrass me again. Tell him!"

"Oh, I will, I will, Ms. Dexter."

"And one more thing, Claire. About the piercings in his dinky penis…. I'm leaving this part up to you. If you want to, … if he gives you any trouble, … if you think it's better for long-term training purposes, … or if you simply would enjoy it better yourself, you have my permission to do it without any anesthesia. It's entirely up to you. And save it all on the video. I want to watch it later."

"Thank you, Ms. Dexter, and don't worry. I'll see how it goes with Robert and let my experience be my guide as to the anesthesia. I've done it with or without many times, and have all the medical and binding equipment I need in the car. As for the video, I love being recorded and women love seeing what happened to their males over the FemTech weekend. Thanks for all the trust; I won't disappoint you. Have a great experience!"

Sue Dexter left the house to begin an incredibly magnificent new adventure. As the door closed, Claire swooned a bit with her back against it; the thought of non-anesthetized penile piercings caused her to audibly moan, and she dropped one hand to her heated vagina and began to sweetly rub herself in anticipation of her activities with Robert.

••••

When Barbara Crayton and Angela Wilson first met each other, it was love (or at least lust) at first sight. Both were personal trainers at the club where Sue saw Roger princked by Clarissa. Both women had obtained their two-year degrees in Physical Fitness Training at the local community college and that's where they had first meet. There's nothing like working out and sliding one slippery sweaty body against another's to spark a romance. Both women had been raised by princkmistresses and both had been princkettes since childhood. When it came to sexually exercising their muscular, sexually hungry vaginas they liked each other's gentle, teasing caresses and tongues better than anything else. But when it came time to using their volcanic princks, there was nothing better than the tight inner confines of virgin males. Unfortunately for men, these women were beautiful, sexy, irresistible, strong and prone to not give a shit about the survival of their love-object-de jour. As long as the poor saps were conscious and squirming, preferably resisting and fighting back, the women were quite satisfied. If the men survived, that was okay. But if they didn't live long enough for a repeat performance … well, there were lots of other easy targets available.

•••

One afternoon after work, Barb and Angela decided to go for a swim at a secluded pond not far from Bay City. They climbed into their little sports car and zoomed off for some fresh mountain air and playful privacy. They weren't sure if they were pleased or disappointed when, after hiking into the woods for fifteen minutes, they found a twenty-something man camping on the grassy slope along side their favorite pond.

Deciding to make the best of the circumstances, they winked at each other and walked over to the camper. "Hi. Do you mind if we share your little piece of paradise?"

"Um, no. Ah, would you like a beer," he offered.

"Nope. It's not good to drink or eat before you swim; didn't your mother ever tell you that?" asked Angela. And with that comment, she reached over her head and grabbed the collar of her tight rugby shirt with two hands and roughly yanked it off over her head, leaving a skimpy bright yellow bikini top to cover (sort of) her young breasts. As she began to peal off her jean cutoffs, she said to Barb, "Last one in is a out-of-shape heifer!"

Barb practically ripped off her shirt, shorts and sandals and the two of them, with barely contained breasts bouncing, went splashing into the pleasant water of the clean, crystal clear hard-bottomed mountain pond. For about five minutes they swam and played around. Finally, Angela swam over to where the camper sat watching them. "Hey, big guy. What's your name?"

"Mitch; my name's Mitch."

"Hey, Mitch. Come on in. There's plenty of room in here."

"Okay. Sure." Mitch put down his beer, and took off his sandals and shirt, and dove in with his swimming trunks on. Angela was eyeing him and figuring out his height and weight. They all swam around and playfully splashed water at each other. To Mitch, it was a playful game. To the women, it was a way of measuring their prey— how strong was he; how well did he swim; how was his aerobic stamina? He was certainly no competition for either of them.

Angela dove under the water and disappeared for a few seconds while Mitch and Barb treaded water. "Phew," said Mitch, "I think I've got to get back to shore." Just then, Angela resurfaced with a small piece of yellow cloth in her hand. "Hey, Mitch, catch." Her bikini bottom flew toward him and he caught it with his right hand. "Throw me your bottoms, too, Mitch."

"Holy shit," he thought, and he dove under and ripped off his trunks and threw them to her. He was really turned on, but he was reaching the limits of his strength. "I (puff puff) need to get back to the shore (puff puff)," Mitch said, pretty tired.

"Here, Mitch, catch," said Barb, as a small blue thong flew in his direction. He didn't even try to catch it; he was too busy trying to stay afloat. He turned to get to the shore, but Angela was blocking his direction. "Oh, Mitch, don't be a baby. Stay out here with us."

"Can't (puff puff) do it, beautiful. Sorry. I need to take a breather."

"Here, I'll help you." Angela swam like a fish (a shark?) around behind him and kind of climbed up on him and drove him under water. Barb came over and held him under a bit, too. Then they both pulled him up so that he could get some air. He still thought they were just playing. "I … I …I …can't swim so good."

"Yes, we know," said Angela, swimming around.

Angela swam over behind him again and placed her right hand around his chest and slid her left hand down his front until she was able to get a good, solid grip on his stiffening little (compared to her) cock. His whole body jolted from her unexpected forwardness. "Whoa, there girl!" he said with a big, but strained, smile.

Angela then slid beneath him and kicked her legs hard against the bottom of the pond driving her lower body up under him against his bare exposed bottom.

"Shit, what's that," he yelped, feeling her stiff princk touch his ass cheeks.

"That," hissed Angela into his ear, "is your life raft. Would you like to climb aboard?"

Mitch tried to get away, back to shore, but the women were too strong. After a few more dunkings he had swallowed enough water to be really scared and panicky. They maneuvered him toward a large underwater, gently slopping flat rock near the west side of the pond. Angela could plant her feet on the very edge of the rock while Barb easily swam around and both kept Mitch's feet from touching anything but water.

"Mitch," Barb screamed at the now terrified man, "If you want to live, you better climb onto Angela's princk."

Actually, there was little Mitch could do. Barb threw her hair behind her head and untied the straps of her bikini top, freeing two beautifully shaped orbs tipped with rock-hard pink nipples stiffened by the cool water of the pond. Angela and Barb pivoted Mitch around so that he faced Angela. With her bikini top straps, Barb, with Angela's help, began to bind Mitch's hands as he flailed about looking for some purchase on the slippery bodies around him. They were methodical; giving each other eye cues and nods as they worked against him as a well-trained team. First, the right hand, then the left, and his arms were fastened securely behind his back. With his arms useless, he had tried to stay afloat by wrapping his legs around Angela's firm waist, thereby absolutely, fully and fatally exposing his sphinctal target to Angela.

"Now, Mitch," Angela laughed, "Do you want to live?"

"Please, help me!"

Angela's princk was fully engaged and covered in its own princk-emitting lubricant. Using the strength of her hips, and his cock as a positioning handle, she began to position Mitch to be able to thrust up into him. She felt the lubricated head of her princk begin to easily slide between Mitch's slippery and widely spread wet ass cheeks. She nodded to Barb, who then lunged herself out of the water and leaped atop of Mitch's shoulders pressing him down onto Angela's erect princk. At the same moment, Angela released her grip on Mitch's penis and reached under water with both hands and grabbed the tops of Mitch's thighs, and pushed them down with strong arms, and hunched violently up into him with her powerful hips. With Barb's magnificent weight driving down on Mitch's shoulders, and Angela's actions, Mitch began a sickeningly steady descent onto Angela's generously endowed princk. First the head of Angela's massive tool began to wedge up and force its way into Mitch's anus. His head flew back and his mouth was thrust open, but no sound came out at first, and his eyes got round with fear and shock. He tried to somehow get off of Angela's steel-hard, thick skewer, but there was no escape or retreat. He yowled in pain as his rectum was ruthlessly stretched to accommodate her thick bulbous princk head.

"Arghh noooo, ahrggr, ohhhh, noooo!" Mitch wailed in helplessness and degradation.

"Please … let … me … go!"

But Barbara kept jerking her weight down on his shoulders and Angela began to increase the intensity of her upward thrusts, until inch after steady abundant inch, Mitch was finally fully impaled on Angela's massive sensitive stiffness. Steady tears were running down Mitch's face.

"Mitch. Would you like to talk to me? Do you have anything you would like to ask me?" purred Angela. "Come on, Mitch. We're making love. Say sweet things to me. Hmm?"

Angela's thrusts had stopped, but her princk was giving her the most exquisite pleasure. She could feel it independently pumping volume after volume of princk precum through the gorgeous length of her princk and into Mitch's vulnerable hungry bottom. Mitch hung like a baby with his face on Angela's shoulder with his ravaged anus firmly clamped around the base of Angela's proud standard. He was sobbing.

"Why … (ohhh) are … you … (oww) doing … (argh) this … to …(sob sob) me?

Angela looked at Barb. "You know. I sort of like him. Let's take him to the shore." Barb rolled her eyes.

Half walking on the large under water stone and half swimming, she reached the shore fully (and deeply) coupled with Mitch. Still carrying him with his legs around her waist, she walked a bit up the soft grassy slope and lowered herself to her knees with Mitch between her legs. He was still crying.

Now she really had him, Angela thought. She released her grip around his back and slightly lifted herself off him pulling about two thick inches of her princk from his sore rear end. He just lay there panting, until he realized her weight wasn't on him and he tried to squirm out from under her. Angela looked at Barb, smiled, and then began a steady thrust, withdraw, thrust, withdraw and thrust. Damn, this felt good. Mitch kept trying to squiggle out from under her, and that only made it better. She reached to her bikini top and unsnapped the front clasp; the top fell open and apart as the bikini cups separated from their oh-so-precious cargo. Angela, although blond, had sweet, large dark areolas with large nipples perched high atop her breasts. Mitch may have been in grievous pain, but he was a man. If these breasts were the last things he ever saw, he would die a happy man, and that might just happen.

Barb had plans of her own. She knelt alongside Mitch's head and began to rub her thick princk all over his face. Heavy dollops of gooey princk precum were throbbing out of her princk and she was close to going all the way just from watching her lust-mate raping Mitch.

"Damn," yelled, Angela, "Don't point that thing at me!" Angela reached under Mitch's neck and jerked his shoulders and neck up so that his head was cruelly bent backwards and his forehead was almost fully on the grass. A man's jaw became paralyze if you did it just right, and these women were experts. "Barb! Don't get any of that crap on me. Stick it down his throat!"

Angela watched as Barb began to maneuver her rod past Mitch's lips and teeth and into his frozen jaws. "Damn, you're beautiful," Angela said admiringly to Barb. But Barb was not listening; the silky warm tightness of Mitch's throat was causing Barb's tool to erupt with princkcum. "Ahhhhhhhhh!!!" Barb was ecstatic with pleasure, as huge quantities of hot cream erupted from deep within her churning balls into Mitch's face.

Barb's orgasms always came fast and with remarkable intensity, and Barb went to a differently planet when she was having one. After Angela knew that Barb had gotten immeasurable pleasure from Mitch's throat, Angela decided to keep Mitch alive a little longer for her own use. Being very, very careful not to get any princk juice on herself, Angela gently pushed Barb back and out of Mitch's throat and mouth and carefully, very carefully with a fingertip (which she immediately wiped on the grass) redirected Barb's still pumping organ away from her direction.

"Damn, when that girl explodes, she explodes." Barb was still moaning with pleasure, not even aware that she wasn't still down Mitch's throat anymore. But Mitch was still alive, sort of, and that's what Angela wanted. After she readjusted his neck to a more normal posture, she slowly began her own steady THRUST, withdraw THRUST, withdraw, and THRUST, to the background of Mitch's coughing and choking. Finally, Mitch opened his eyes sticky with princk juices and squinted through the goo at Angela. "I'm in heaven and I'm in hell," Mitch thought to himself.

"Are you still with us, Mitch?" He nodded.

"Are you ready?" He shook his head.

She took a deep breath and began to slowly draw her princk out until her large round princkhead stretched against the inside of his aching sphincter muscles. "Your intestines are like a natural warm wet tight glove, loverboy, and it feels sooo good to feel you around me." Angela was such a sweet talking romantic.

She pushed herself in and then pressed her fingertips into his belly. Ahh! She could feel herself moving inside him, thrusting inside him, deep, deep inside him. That was too much of a turn-on for her (or just the right amount).

"Oh, oh, OH!" she began to moan. "Oh! Ahhh! Ahhhh! Oh, shit, oh shit. Oh! Ahhh! Ahhhh! Sweet Mother!!" The lights went off in Angela's head as she began bucking wildly into him. Vast amounts of princkcum poured through Angela's deliriously pleasurable princk channels into his stretched, agitated guts and seeped out of his rectum with each powerful thrust. Mitch's pain was overwhelming and he would pass out, almost come to, sense a nightmare, recognize reality, scream, pass out and have the cycle repeat. Eventually, Angela's long, long orgasm reached its tumultuous conclusion and receded into a sweet blissful quietude. She slumped off to his side on the grass with her princk still fully invading his bowels.

Miraculously, Mitch was still alive … barely.

••••

"So, Robert," said Claire Winslow kneeling 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?"

Robert began to struggle and sputter and sob….

End of Sue Dexter — Chapter Six

ã 2003 MystyMason

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

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

Writer's Note: Readers have asked: "So what actually happens when a women goes to a FemTech weekend to have her sexual organs, um, amended?" Well, there's boring but informative lectures, some testimonials, a little show-and-tell, great food, excellent company, massages, the actual "sexual augmentation," the trying out of the new, improved sexual apparatus, and ... well, more. After you watch Marsha Dolin and her daughter leave for the FemTech weekend, get comfortable and pull up a chair in the rear of the Field Office lecture hall. If you're a male, I suggest that you keep a low profile. Shhsssshh.

The Sue Dexter Chronicles — Chapter Eight

Back at the Dolin residence, the banding and binding of Alex and Stevie Dolin was accomplished in short order with the security officers making easy work of the boys' futile struggles.

"Smart mouthed boys like this deserve immediate punishment," said Chief Security Officer Tracy Henderson.

Marsha Dolin simply nodded her head in agreement regarding her sons, and that nod was passed on to the other officers. Officer Judy Weiss, a slender, wonderfully proportioned young black-haired woman knelt down next to Alex and casually took a glove and a small wide-mouthed jar out of her hip-pouch. She placed the jar on the floor in front of Alex and then pulled the tight, kidskin black leather glove over the long graceful fingers and the palm of her right hand. Humming to herself she picked up the jar, removed the top and stirred her leather-gloved index finger around in it, slightly turning her face away from it. When her leather-clad finger was nicely covered and sticky with the thick clinging goop, she held her finger in front of Alex's nose.

"Get it away!" he yelled.

"Not yet, sweetie," she said as she rubbed the vile substance on his lips and into his mouth.

"Noooooo! Please, get ... ugh ... it ... aiggthh ... away!"

Sure," said Judy, "No problem. I know just where to hide it." And with that she stood up, moved behind him, knelt down and began to slowly, but inexorably press her gloved right index finger between Alex's clenching buttocks and past his protesting sphinctal ring.

"Oh. No! Please, no!"

"Alex, sweetie. Believe me," she said twisting her finger around and slowly thrusting it in as far as she could, "this is nothing, nothing compared with what you're going to get later on a steady basis."

"Argh! Awkrggr!"

Eventually satisfied by his moans and screams, she leisurely pulled her finger out and with her left hand grabbed Alex by the hair on the top of his head, yanked back hard and did the same thing with her gloved finger in his mouth that she had in his ass.

"This is what dirty-mouthed little boys get. Understand?" She finally pulled her finger out of his mouth and walked over to Stevie, who was shaking in fear.

Marsha and her daughter, Katy, were watching and learning by example how to treat males.

"No. No. I'm sorry," Stevie cried. "I didn't mean it. I won't do it again."

"I know you won't. Now shut up, you whinny little asshole!" Officer Weiss loaded her finger with the foul smelling slim again and held it in front of Stevie's nose.

"Oh, god! No. Phew! No!"

He tried to hold his breath, but when he gulped for air she rubbed the wretched stuff between his lips and worked the thick ropy gloop into his gagging mouth. She then went behind him, bent down and inserted her gloved finger, twisting, turning and thrusting into Stevie's tight bottom and followed it up, in due time, with a finger cleaning by him, as well. Stevie started to violently gag.

"Don't you dare throw up," she warned Stevie. "If you do, I'll fed what's left in this jar to you and your brother down your scrawny little throats." Stevie and Alex both burst into ragged crying.

"Is that stuff from your private stock?" asked Henderson pointing at Judy's jar. "Yeah, vintage two weeks. The stuff really ripens fast," and the women began to laugh.

•••

Thereafter, the crying twins remained bound to their individual banding racks in their living room, along with their father, Dr. Michael Dolin, one right next to the other.

Officer Weiss finished washing her gloved fingers in the bathroom and was walking back into the living room. "One more thing, Marsha and Katy."

"Yes, Officer."

"When you come back home on Sunday afternoon you will both be functioning princkmistresses. Uh, fully 'cocked and loaded,' you might say." They all smiled. "FemTech has one request of you."

"Yes?" said Marsha.

"We want each of your sons to be given at least one princkcum 'meal' within seven days after you come home. Dr. Dolin needs one sooner because he's already addicted, of course."

"Do we have to wait for a whole week before we can give it to them? I don't think I'll be able to wait that long," complained Katy.

"Wow, Katy. You're really excited." The Officer and Marsha smiled at each other. "You can do it to any of them as soon as you get home. FemTech just asks that you don't wait more than one week to give your brothers princkcum. And Katy, it can be anyone's princkcum. A relative's, friend's, a stranger's, and certainly a FemTech Security Officer's", and they all laughed again.

"Officer Weiss?"

"Yes, Katy."

"If mom lets me, I'm going to fuck their sorry asses as soon as I walk in the door!" Marsha Dolin grinned proudly.

"That's the attitude, girl," said Officer Weiss, "I bet you will."

"Well," said Officer Weiss, "Have a great time at the Institute this evening. When you get back on Sunday, there will be three Security Officers here to assist you for as long as you want us to be here."

"Mom?"

"Yes, Katy."

"Are they going to get piercings, mom? Huh, are they?" Alex and Stevie didn't even know exactly what that meant, but they began to cry again in the corner.

"Sure, Katy," said her mom. "Well start them with the standard piercings for all three of them."

"Okay, Ms. Dolin. Nose and deep perineum piercing for all three, along with the standard teeth extractions. If you want them to have additional piercings, we'll do them any time you want. Have a great weekend!"

As Marsha and Katy prepared to leave the little domestic scene of the three trussed up males, Chief Security Officer Tracy Henderson turned to the other officers with a broad smile and said, "Let's get busy, ladies."

•••

"Oh," said Marsha to Katy when they got to their car, "Could you run back in and get the medical releases on the coffee table?" Marsha wanted Katy to see the developing scene in their living room.

"Sure, mom." When Katy walked back in she could see that already each of the males had been separated and placed, still in their own binding racks, in different corners of the living room, each on a waterproof nylon drop cloth. The boys and their father were intermittently crying and begging, and light reflected from sharp stainless steel implements that seemed to be everywhere.

"Hi, honey," said Medical Technician Oakfield, "What's up."

"I need to get the medical releases for me and mom."

"Oh, yes. I moved them. They're by the door in that plastic container; we didn't want them to get splattered with anything."

"Wow," said Katy. They're really in for it, aren't they?"

"No more then they deserve, Katy. And listen to me, honey, when you get back we'll show you how to take advantage of these piercings and things. You can't even imagine how much fun it's going to be! These banded males are yours and your mom's to do with as you please, and they will be serving you in every way you can think of, and in some ways you can't even imagine. And we're ready to give you lots of suggestions."

"You know, I think I'm going to love having a princk."

"I know you are, honey," said Oakfield smiling and patting her crotch, "I know you are."

•••

The lights flicked on and off at the lecture room of the FemTech Field Office and a beautiful woman with wild strawberry-blond hair and rhinestone-studded heels strode confidently to the microphone. She was wearing a short tight skirt and a low-cut white blouse exposing plenty of cleavage hardly covered by sexy, wide fishnet material.

"Hello. I'm Erica Olmsted, your Q&A host for the second half of the evening. So far we've already done a lot of technical lecturing tonight and, I'm sorry to say, there's more to come. So before we get to the Question and Answer portion of this evening, we want to bring back a woman you met two weeks ago at the first seminar, Kristi Elverton, who can tell you a little about what it's like to be a new princkmistress.

If you recall, Kristi is a single parent who was struggling to take care of her home, employment and teenage son, Robby. When we met her, she was really frustrated at her son's lack of cooperation and lack of positive involvement in the household. It was primarily the empowerment aspect of FemTech's philosophy that convinced her to learn move about what advantages she might obtain by enhancing her sexual opportunities through FemTech. We asked her to come back tonight to let us know how the last two weeks have been for her and for Robby. Please let's give our sister a warm welcome!"

Kristi Elverton stepped to the podium and Erica snapped a small microphone transmitter to the lapel of her blouse. "Can everyone hear me alright?" Kristi asked.

"Yes," the women responded.

Kristi was about thirty-six years old, fit and carried a confidence she didn't display two weeks ago. She wore a plain white blouse and a short black skirt with black low heels. She appeared very relaxed and quietly attractive.

Kristi began, "My son and I have developed a new relationship that is now only beginning to have some consistency and respect. Two weeks ago he would not listen to me, would not help around the house, would constantly mess the place up, would talk back to me, steal money from my pocketbook, eat all of the food in the house without a thought, and was mildly menacing. Things have changed. At the suggestion of FemTech, a FemTech Home Counselor accompanied me to my home on the Sunday afternoon after I had become a ..., well, a princkmistress. I'm not quite used to that label and it's still a little difficult to think of myself in those terms, but it is clear to Robby that that is exactly what I am."

"The Officers had Robby in the binding rack for me when I arrived home and he had had his teeth extracted and the perineum and nose piercings, as well as a thick Princess Anne piercing through the urethra and the meat of the head of his penis. I've got to tell you he looked and acted very, very meek. I don't think he fully understood what was going on in his life.

The Home Counselor, Andrea Dobson and I sat in the living room and the Officers moved Robby in right next to us still in the binding rack. I talked to Andrea about how difficult it was to live with Robby and how he made things worse, not better for me. Andrea thought it would be a good idea to give him a good strong dose of princkcum right off the bat, and then keep him from getting any more princkcum for at least sixty hours or so. She said that males go through remarkable changes if they are kept from princkjuice for more than forty-eight hours, and that most women don't let them go that long without it because the women enjoy the sex so much. But she told me about the Pens and about women who were very willing to share their males, and that I should really let Robby just live with the addiction until he was almost dead from it. I made a few calls, and in about five minutes I was hooked up with another mother who had two sons and was perfectly happy to share one with me, and that's what I've been doing, although I also use the Pens when I want to, also."

"Andrea also thought that we should masturbate him during the first sexual encounter so that as his puny amount of sperm was leaving him our cum would be filling him up. He had been masturbating so much any way, I didn't think another one would make any difference. You know, I would clean up his room and find small wads of dried stiff tissue paper under his bed and in the waste paper basket. He sure isn't doing that any more since I put FemTech's Genital Cage on his little penis. Actually, he can't even get an erection when it's on him."

"Anyway, we had the Security Officer release him from the binding rack. He'd been in it all weekend except for a few bathroom breaks, so he just collapsed to the floor. The Officer simply put him in the standard FemTech arms-behind-the-back binding with the ankle-to-ankle bungee chain cuffs. He really was a wreak, so you shouldn't be too surprised when you get home to see your male friend a little whacked out by his weekend. I mean, we're getting spas and massages while they're getting their teeth yanked out, being pierced and bound in really uncomfortable ways. Anyway, Andrea told me I should do it to his mouth and she would do his rear whenever I was ready. She said it's good for the primary mistress to do his face because he gets to see her do it to him."

"She then showed me how his nose piercing works. It's not the typical shallow nose piercing that you can get done for a cosmetic ring. It's a really deep piercing with a permanent sleeve left in his nose. The nose leash has a clip in the end that looks like a tiny, spring-loaded ice tong with a little release lever in it. The piercing on all males is done to the exact same depth so the leash works for all of them. Anyway, you just insert the snap end of the leash up into the male's nose and push it up as far as it will go. When the middle part of the nose touches the little release lever at the bottom of the "ice tong," the tongs snap together and their ends slide into the permanent sleeve in his nose and the leash is firmly attached. They can't take it off without the combination, and you can yank them around really hard because it's in so deep and solid. And I guess it really hurts them when you do. I've between yanking Robby around with it and tears come to his eyes when I barely tug on it and I know he's not faking it."

The women in the audience were all listening intently.

"Anyway, I put the nose leash on him and Andrea put a leash to his perineum piercing. That's just a big 'D'-ring attached through his perineum between his anus and his balls. I can tell you that although it doesn't hurt him as much when you tug on that, you can use it to lock him anywhere you want and he won't go anywhere. That piercing is really, really deep, and the ring is very thick. Andrea said that no male has ever ripped free of that piercing on his own. I guess it would be like ripping your insides out. Anyway, I had Robby by his nose leash and I led him over to the ottoman in the family room. We had moved it out into the middle of the room away from the other furniture and put a large plastic tarp under it; it was really just the right height for what we were about to do to my son. I still have to say that Robby really didn't act like he knew what was going to happen to him. I think that maybe he was just denying reality. Actually, it was kind of amusing. In any event, the Officer came along just to watch and to give Robby any medical help if he needed it."

"Andrea and I talked a little bit about whether we wanted Robby on his back or his belly, and we decided to have him on his belly, sort of. We actually decided to have him on his chest so that his penis wouldn't be under him so that the Officer could do a forced masturbation of Robby when the time was just right. So we placed Robby on the ottoman on his chest and he was fastened to it with the rubberized Velcro wrap. Believe me, he wasn't going anywhere with that on him! I think that's when Robby really understood that he might have a problem. Andrea and I went to the kitchen, I made us a couple of drinks, and we went back to the family room. Wow, the term 'family room' has really taken on a new meaning for me. Robby is always going to be a part of my family. Unless I put him in the Pens, that is!"

"Anyway, I pulled up a chair near his head, leaned back, and relaxed a bit with my drink. I was wearing a short skirt and white blouse like I am now. Andrea discussed a bit more about what we were gong to do, and then she gave Robby a long lecture about how he was going to do all of the housework for our family, and cook and clean and wash and scrub and do the laundry, and stuff like that. I explained to Robby that he wasn't going to go to school any more, because he would have plenty of work to do at home keeping it clean and me happy. Andrea said to him that the last thing I said was the most important thing, that is 'keeping your mother happy' and that he'd better get good at it right away because even though there were tons of males in the Pens, FemTech was always building more facilities and they would always have room for him. He didn't really know what the Pens were, but he told her that he would try to keep me happy, and would they let him go now, and he hurt so much, please."

"Well, Andrea and the Officer really got a laugh from that one, and told him that he was never, never going to be 'let go,' although he might be let outside every once in a while to do the gardening and lawn and snow shoveling and garbage and car washing and shopping and stuff like that. Well, I almost began to feel a little sorry for him and I began to rub his hair in a motherly way. You know, it was all damp from his being so scared and sweaty, and he looked up at me like he was begging with his eyes. Anyway I explained to him that his old life was over and a new one was starting and the focus of his new life was going to be between my legs."

"I could tell that he still didn't understand. Maybe he thought he was all tied down to get a spanking or something. So I lifted up my skirt and folded it back high on my lap. I thought he was going to go crazy for a while. His breathing got all short and panicky and he tried to pull himself backwards, which he couldn't really do because of the straps, but I yanked on his nose ring and that stopped him right away."

"'Honey,'" I said, "'going backwards is just going to drive yourself right onto Andrea's princk. She's got one too.' And Andrea got up for a moment, walked around by his face, lifted her skirt and unfastened her princk from its thigh harness. Robby really freaked out and started crying and wanted to know why I was going to do this to him, and that he'd be good and how sorry he was and stuff like that. I told him I knew that he would be good and gave him a short lesson on princkjuice and addiction and told him that after I did this to him he was going to need to have this done to him over and over just for him to stay alive and it didn't matter whether he liked it or not, because he would need it and even when he didn't 'need' it I would do it to him whenever I wanted."

"The Officer put a spreader bar on Robby's knees and Andrea said she was ready whenever I wanted to start. I asked her to wait for a few more minutes and I got up, got another drink for myself from the kitchen, and sat back down again right in front of Robby. By that time, I was beginning to like the way Robby looked with his mouth so damn vulnerable with no teeth. You know, just the kind of warm, tight wet place to put my swelling female penis. After a few more minutes of small talk while I was caressing Robby's hair and telling him that his dirty mouth was finally going to be put to good use, my princk was anxiously rubbing up against Robby's face. Andrea thought it would be good if she went in first and I agreed. So she began to rub her heavy princk against Robby's tail."

"Robby was crying and yelling and begging her to stop and how much it hurt and stuff like that. Andrea laughed at him and told him she was hardly even in yet. After a short time though, I could see her slowly begin to ease her princk forward into him. Robby was going nuts and crying and pleading with me to make her stop and how much it hurt. I had no idea he was such a big baby after acting like a tough guy with me all the time. Of course, he could hardly talk because all his teeth had just been pulled and his speech was a little hard to understand, but it was clear from his tears that he wanted it to stop. I bent down to his face and kept rubbing his hair and his cheeks really gently and just kept saying that it wasn't going to stop and that it was his new life, forever. His eyes were so sad.

I knew I was supposed to wait until Andrea got all the way in, but he looked sort of irresistible to me. His mouth was drooling a little from his crying, and my princk really wanted to get into that hot, wet little cavern, so I began to push myself forward until my princk touched his lips. At that point he began to jam his mouth shut and shake his head back and forth. The Officer knew just what to do; she was pretty cool. She simply swung her leg over his back like she was riding a horse, sat on his back, reached down, placed her hands on either side of his cheeks, and jammed her fingers where his molars used to be to pry his jaws apart. His gums must have been really sore because his teeth were pulled, because his mouth just flew open and when it did I simply pried the entire head of my princk into his face."

"You will not believe how good it feels to have your princk inside someone's warm wet tight mouth. I mean, to do with as you want. For a while I did like FemTech tells you to do the first time. You know, just get your princkhead in their mouth and stop, be still and see what happens. His whole face was incredibly alive. He was trying to push me out with his tongue and his cheeks, and moving his face left to right. But at the same time his gums were holding me soooo tight right under my princkhead. Wow. It was amazing. I pushed my princk in a little farther and I could see he was starting to choke so I pulled it all the way out for a second. Wow, he was really gagging up a storm. It was pretty amazing. The end of my sweet female penis was sticky with ropes of his gagging saliva. I was really glad we had the plastic on the floor."

"It was really easy to get my princk back in his mouth. I guess his gag reflex kept his mouth extra-wide open for me. Anyway, pretty soon the natural princklube began to suppress his gag reflex a little. You know, it sort of relaxes and numbs the male a little. Anyway, I began to wedge my princk in further. It was amazing; I could actually feel it begin to make that turn from the roof of his mouth when it starts to travel down his throat. Talk about tight. Wow! Well, by this time I was pretty whacked out with passion and I could feel my precum pumping through my balls and along the long shaft of my princk. I just automatically started pumping my hips in and out, in and out, in ... and ... out, with long powerful strokes."

"Andrea was fully engaged up his butt by that time. We were both sort of out of our heads with lust. At least, that's what the Officer said later. Anyway, at that point the Officer got off Robby's back and moved down next to him to masturbate him while we were filling him up with princkcum. In the distance, I could hear her talking to him about how his puny little penis was not good enough to satisfy women and how our thick princkcum was going to make his penis useless and how this may be the last chance he might every have to cum again, and how he should thank her and stuff like that. Even though his penis had that huge piercing and he was in unbelievable pain, which I could tell by his choking moans, the Officer told me later that he slowly began to get hard as she stroked him with her hand and actually spurted as I came full force in his mouth, even though he had tears rolling down his face. Wow, men are amazing!"

"Well after a while, I had one hand on his back just supporting my weight and one hand gripping his hair to lift his face so I could see those pleading little eyes. Andrea had pushed her princk as far into him as she could and we both unloaded massive amounts of princkcum into Robby. It was amazing how much longer my princk was when I finally yanked it all the way out of Robby's face; it just kept coming out and out and out. When it got it almost all the way out, so that only the head of it was in his mouth, Andrea and I were just looking at each other and smiling with real goofy expressions. I was a little embarrassed when I realized I was drooling a little. Well you get pretty excited, that's for sure.

Anyway, for a long time I could feel my princk continue pumping cum into his mouth, and I could tell by the look on Andrea's face that she was doing the same in his rear end. Well, I can tell you we just did it until we were good and ready to stop, and then we pulled ourselves out all the way, laid our princks on Robby, and just talked. Andrea had her princk resting in the crack of his butt and my long princk was pressed up to the side of Robby's face. After a while we got up and took a shower together and then the Officer tossed Robby in to clean him up, too. I can tell you that his stomach actually seemed a bit swollen from all the precum and cum we made him take. I could also tell he was humiliated by cuming while he had two princks in him, but the Officer says that she can always make them do it if she wants."

"Well that was two weeks ago."

All the women in the audience let out a huge sigh.

"Erica has asked me to actually show you what real changes Robby has gone through, so I've brought him here tonight. Please, Officer, let Robby out on the stage."

The Sue Dexter Chronicles — End of Chapter Eight

(c) 2003 MystyMason

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

Writer's note: Well, class. You've had it pretty easy so far. But now it's necessary to study, study, study. Pay close attention and please keep both of your hands on the table. Hey, over there, that means you!

Now, let's see … where were we. Oh, yes. Let's watch Kristi Elverton do a live demonstration of princkfeeding while her son, Robby, tries to survive. Hmm, and then there will be a question and answer session by FemTech's lovely Erica Olmsted on what's happening in the wonderful and ever-changing world of princk research. Won't that be exciting?

The Sue Dexter Chronicles — Chapter Nine

Back at the FemTech Field Office lecture hall, Kristi Elverton stood at the podium. She had just finished describing her son's very first sexual encounter with "fully endowed" women, and now she was about to present a live demonstration before a group of women who were about to open that window of opportunity for themselves. From the left side of the small stage came a strange, feeble form ... her teenage son, Robby.

Kristi looked towards him with a confident smile. "Robby, I'm over here. Come here!"

Robby began crawling towards his mother's voice, slowly, like an inchworm with his arms tied securely behind his back and the bungee chains on his ankles.

"It's been about sixty-five hours since his last princkcum and, actually, he won't last much longer," Kristi told the audience. "Robby, Robby, over here!"

"Since I've had him on this "maximum princkcum feeding—maximum princkcum starvation" regimen he has done exactly what I have asked him to do, from cleaning up the house to taking care of ..., well, my more personal needs."

"Robby, I'm over here!"

Eventually Robby followed his mother's voice and crawled his way to Kristi, looked up at her and laid his head on her feet. It had been exhausting for him to crawl across the stage with his arms bound behind his back. Kristi reached down and unfastened the arm bindings and Robby's hands slowing were brought forward by his aching arms. In fact his whole body ached and shook from the addiction. He gently, adoringly, lovingly placed his shaking hands on his mother's stockinged legs and looked slavishly up to her face.

"Come, Robby, you're almost there," Kristi urged him.

Robby began to pull himself up, first by her legs and then by holding on to her hips until he was on his shaking knees. One of the officers came over and placed a microphone on the floor near him. His little cries and moans could be clearly heard in the room. "Please mommy, please. May I have some? Please, please." It was pretty pathetic.

"May you have some ... what, Robby?"

"May I have some of your cum, please?"

"Not yet, Robby, not yet," said Kristi as she unsnapped the clasp on her skirt and let it fall to the ground. Robby's hands darted up to her princkharness and his trembling fingers worked to unclasp her organ from its mooring. Finally his shaking fingers got it done and her princk sprang forward, brushing his face.

Robby began to longingly lick the extensive length of his mother's princk as it began to swell even more and rise. His hands sweetly reached up to hold and caressed her calmly swaying testicles. Robby's lips licked and kissed the head of her penis and his tongue swirled and swirled around and below her sensitive princkhead. Kristi's eyes began to roll up in her head and she leaned forward, breathing heavily and placed her arms on her son's trembling shoulders. The microphone was picking up Robby's slurping and mewling sounds as he mouthed and kissed his mother's princk.

Robby lifted his face from his mother's imperious penis and asked, "Please, mommy, can I have some now?"

"No ... Robby ... not ... quite ... yet. You ... (ahh) ... know ... (ummm) ... what to ... (ooh) ... do," she sighed.

Robby looked forlorn. As stressed as he was with his princkcum addiction, he knew where he was and the audience members who were watching him.

"Please, mommy, do I have to that here? Oh, please, please don't make me do that, " he respectfully begged.

"Yes, Robby. It is necessary. Do it here and do it NOW!"

Without a further word, Robby dropped to his hands and knees, crawled around behind his mother, and pulled himself up behind her. She bent over slightly and he gently, very affectionately spread her firm butt cheeks apart, placed his mouth directly on her brown puckered rosette and began to lick and suck and tongue his mother's anus.

"Ohhh! Ahhh! Yessss!"

Her moans and his licking slurping sounds were echoing around the room and at least half the women had their hands between their legs stroking themselves to the rhythm of Kristi's sighs.

At last the exercise in control, pleasure and submission was concluded and Kristi was ready to serve him the main course.

"Get ... to ... it!" she moaned in a husky voice; her princk jutted out like a massive barb on a hook. He dropped to his knees, moved in front of his mother-goddess, reached up for her stiff swaying staff and reverently brought his lips to her princkhead again, licking and then nursing and sucking on its proud head. Then inch-by-steady-inch, as her foul tasting precum pumped out of her penis, he drew his mouth and his tight throat over her lovely female shaft until, fighting the urge to gag and escape his impalement, he finally pressed his chin against her beautiful balls.

"Oh," she moaned as she began to rock hard into his face ... drawing out, then hunching hard forward, out ... back in. The women in the audience were gasping.

"Yes. Yes!" she cried out as her son caressed her legs and bottom. Soon Kristi shoved her son to the floor and put him on his back. She then swiveled on her long, powerful penis and turned herself so that she faced him with his head between her luscious thighs. She grabbed him beneath his neck and pulled up to get a straight run at his throat, then jammed her princk deep into him, humping viciously and crying out with animal moans. Kristi was in him fully and those on stage could see the outline of the head of her princk slid back and forth within his throat.

As it went on, it was becoming clear that Robby was near death from both the lack of cum and because there was so much of it! And those in the first few rows could see the nasty thick princkcum begin to squirt from Robby's mouth. If she didn't finish quickly Robby was done for; and she was not in any conscious hurry. She was barely conscious, at all.

Erica saw the signals: Robby's arms lay lax beside his body with his fingers and torso twitching that peculiar "last chance" twitch. His chest attempted to expand and contract; but there was no air to fuel it.

Erica got up from her couch and calmly, very calmly walked over behind Kristi, unbuttoned Kristi's blouse and then bent over and licked, then sucked on Kristi's engorged erect nipples, first one, then another. Kristi began gasping and then gulping audibly as she exploded in an ecstatic orgasm, thrusting convulsively in and our of Robby's unmoving face. Erica then smoothly moved around in front of her and placed one leg on each side of Robby's non-responsive body so she was facing Kristi and then gently and carefully pulled Kristi to her feet; Kristi's wild thrusting had by that time slowed to strong post-orgasmic rocking.

When Erica lifted Kristi up, Robby's head and shoulders came off the floor with his mouth still stuck on his mother's penis from the suction caused by the princkcum seal. Erica expertly placed one of her heels crossways against his throat and firmly pressed down forcing his tight mouth down, down, down from her princk, inch-by-luscious-inch until her princk came free with a loud slurping plop and a simultaneous delighted moan from Kristi. Erica then rammed one of her strong legs into Robby's upper chest, once, twice, three times ... . Miraculously, Robby started gasping, coughing and breathing and the Officer applied standard first aid to keep him alive.

In the FemTech world, Erica's action was called a "non-interruptive intervention." FemTech typically did not interfere with a princkmistress' sexual encounter to save a male unless they could do so without diminishing the pleasure of the woman's experience. In this instance, Kristi barely knew where she was, and Erica and Kristi had previously discussed this possibility and Kristi had advised that she wanted Robby kept alive.

The crowd was simply enthralled and hot, very very hot. Kristi was washed off with damp towels and helped back to a comfortable chair. Robby was re-tied and laid in a clump at his mother's feet while she petted him for a few minutes and then he was led, staggering, to a soundproof recovery room backstage by a cock leash attached through his genital cage. Eventually, Kristi stood up and sheepishly smiled to the crowd of adoring on-lookers.

"Well, I guess I got carried away a little. But it felt sooooo good!" and all the women cheered.

•••

Erica waited a bit and then walked up to the front of the stage. The audience was talking excitedly to each other.

"Let's thank Kristi, everyone!" Erica said, and they all gave her another loud appreciative hand. "That certainly is a tough act to follow. Goodness! Let's take a short refreshment break and then we'll continue with a brief lecture and then finish up with the Question and Answer session."

•••

"Okay," Erica said, "welcome back. Let's get started again. You've all have a busy and eventful night ahead of you. Most of your questions probably were earlier addressed at either last week's Intermediate Seminar or at your personal meetings at FemTech, and tonight we're here to address any remaining questions or concerns you might have before you take this wonderful step later tonight towards a more fulfilling and satisfying womanhood. Before you do so, we want to give you an update on the exciting Pens research that FemTech is conducting."

Erica took a breath. "The initial results from the Pens experiments were quite amazing, and they now have been substantiated over time. FemTech, as you know, has been subjecting large numbers of all-volunteer test subjects," she smiled at the "all-volunteer" reference, "to regular and exclusive oral and anal consumption of princkjuices. The commonly known conclusions are worth reviewing."

"First, because of the intense hormonal cocktail of princkjuice, and because of its high estrogen content, the expected introduction of secondary female characteristics into the subject males takes place over time. To be specific, princk-fed men gradually begin to establish a slightly thicker, more luxurious growth of hair on their heads and a surprising significant reduction of hair in all other locations. "

"Second, some subject males will experience tangible breast tissue growth and an attendant widening of their hips and pelvis. This effect is significantly different depending on whether the test subject has or hasn't been castrated. Of course, the breast and hip development in the castrated males is quite a bit accelerated and emphasized in comparison to the occasional and minor breast and hip development of the intact male."

"Third, the muscular structure in the princk-fed castrated male tends to noticeably reduce and approach atrophy depending on his physical activity level. But if the Pens male is not castrated and is allowed to remain intact, while he will lose muscles mass, he will do so at a much lower rate and still retain a significant portion of his strength."

"Fourth, the exclusively princk-fed male tends to be extremely emotional, fearful and compliant, whether castrated or not. Of course, a significant degree of such state of being is directly attributable to the test subjects voluntary incarceration predicament and the act of 'feeding,' which some test subjects might feel humiliates them." The room filled with giggles from the audience.

"Fifth, and lastly, princk-fed males, as a result of the hormonal/chemical makeup of princkjuice, are delightfully highly-sexually charged individuals. However, as you all know, because of the over-abundance of estrogen and other female hormones, as well as other diverse subtle chemicals in princk fluids, the male's ability to satisfy or act upon his sexual urges in his usual fashion, or to be a sexual threat to women, is eventually effectively eliminated. Basically, his male sexual organs are simply overwhelmed by his princkmistress' juices. Because of the ingestion of your sexual fluids, a princk-fed male's sperm and prostate fluid production level elevates exceedingly above that of non-princk-fed males, and his internal natural biological reaction to women dramatically increases to extraordinary levels of desire and attentiveness. Even so, he eventually simply cannot fully consummate his desire for women or obtain any form of significant sexual release except under certain permitted and princkmistress-assisted circumstances." Erica smiled to herself at the thought of the level of sexual control practiced by her princkmistress sisters.

"Some males described this sexual incapacity as feeling 'blocked up,' or 'stuffed up.' These comments confirmed the medical research that showed that the male's sperm/prostate fluid 'plumbing' becomes, after a period of time, effectively 'gummed.' That is, the male's small, but highly energetic fluid transport system begins to take on the thick, viscous qualities of princkcum. Unfortunately for the male, his prostate, testicles, penis and supporting muscular and sexual apparatus is wholly insufficient in size, scope, design or power to move sperm or prostate fluid through his now clogged sexual apparatus, other than to allow some harmless non-viable leaking to take place."

"Males, because of the 'clogging effect' are, in a way, locked into genital chastity and we hold the key. As I said, other than certain princkmistress-assisted circumstances, males are functionally impotent. This of course guaranties that they constantly will be preoccupied with the desire for sexual release and will curry our favor in the most servile manner in the hope that we will provide that momentary emancipation. Under these circumstances, males of any age will do almost anything in the hope that sexual release will be eventually provided to them. These males, you will find, are wonderfully childishly naive in the hope that you may have a real interest in relieving their sexual suffering. That optimism is an amazingly effective force in molding males to our purposes and desires."

"The male's frustration has proven to be a significant ingredient in training the princk-fed male to be both appreciative and in awe of the princkmistress and her sexual prowess, as well as appropriately fearful, frustrated, submissive and intimidated by her ability to control his most basic needs. Surprisingly, even castrated subjects, because of the testosterone levels in princkjuice, report the same fear, frustration and desire and, of course, shame."

"Yes, yes. A question over there?"

"Yes. Can a princk-fed male cause a women, princked or otherwise to become pregnant?"

"That's a good question. The easy and quick answer is — not on his own. If the woman wishes to bear a child generated by a princk-fed male's testicles she may do so. A FemTech lab technician simply extracts viable sperm directly from the male's testicles using a standard broad-point hypodermic needle and arrangements are made for artificial insemination. Please note, of course, that sperm, from the moment a male is banded, cannot pass through the band and remain viable because of the 'withering' process. That's simply a purposeful design of the electrical impact of the band upon sperm passing under it."

"Okay. We have hands raised so we might as well jump to the questions at this time. Yes. You have your hand up. Sure. Go ahead, just shout it out."

"I'm getting a princk without … umm … balls. How unusual is that and what influence does that have on my sexual satisfaction?"

"Yes. Did everyone hear? She wants to know, I think, what are the percentages of women who get princks and external balls or visible external hormonal units and those that get princks and internal hormonal units, and how does it impact your sexual satisfaction?

I would say that currently about 70% of the princkmistresses get the external hormonal units. Now I can tell you that there is absolutely no difference in princkjuice production or sexual drive or satisfaction. The internal hormonal units work exactly the same as the external. It's really just a question of fashion or personal preferences. Five years ago it was closer to 55% that opted for princk balls. I would say that a certain percentage of women like to have their balls worshipped or massaged or sucked or licked, and I think that has led to the current increased percentage of external hormonal units. But there are other women who prefer the sleek look and enjoy what they feel is an increased participation of their clitoris in their love making. So its really a personal choice."

"Any other questions. Don't be shy," Erica said smiling. She really enjoyed audience participation

"Yes. Can princk-fed men or boys, like Robby, ever function at all in society?"

"Ah, yes. Actually, they function much better than men did when they were independent. They can definitely work and hold many different useful levels of employment. And, of course, in addition to the Pens, there are many banded males who perform the most servile and repetitive task for use, and do so quite efficiently. Please remember, that for the past millennia, women have been relegated to either taking care of children, being social workers, teachers or nurses, or holding some form of menial jobs, all of which mightily contributed to the world's economy, although not as directly as if they were in the boardrooms. Now, quite simply, that condition is slowly being reversed. Men will eventually leave the professions and enter or continue in the ranks of more menial and factory-labor level employment, field hands, miners, laborers, medical research subjects, and the like. These men will be extremely important from an economic and scientific point of view; they just will have no control or say in what they do or how or when they do it. And, frankly, we at FemTech prefer it that way."

"Yes. Another question. From the lady in the green dress. Yes? Okay. I don't know if everyone heard the question. Could you please repeat it, louder?"

"Is it possible for a male to have a satisfactory orgasm if the princkmistress permits or encourages it?"

"That, ladies, is a very interesting question and requires a complicated answer."

"As I said, because of the hormonal and chemical content of princk fluids, males' sexual apparatus become so clogged that they can not freely ejaculate. There are a few methods available to offset this condition. The most common one is an orgasmic side effect to a process commonly referred to by FemTech as 'draining the reservoirs.'"

"While I am not at liberty to discuss this in any detail, I can tell you that prink-fed male prostate fluid is extremely useful to us. The quantity that a non-princk-fed male can normally produce is very small. If you explore the prostate fluid production of a princk-fed male, you will note that the prostate dramatically increases in size and sensitivity, and the amount of fluid stored and expressed by it is vastly increased. However, it is still not in sufficient quantity to harvest, only to study. Eventually, FemTech's research devised micro-sliver prostate reservoirs that the princk-fed male's prostate works day and night to fill. When the reservoir sacks are full, normal bio-feedback signals cause the prostate to stop working as hard and the male can recover from his unconscious exhaustive duties to us."

"But, back to your question. Let me go on a bit more. The micro-sliver-induced reservoirs are set deep into the male's rectal area in tight rings of six to eight, with the tubes to and from the reservoirs entering and exiting the intestines as biologically directed by the micro-sliver programming. These tubes connect directly with the male's prostate gland. The reservoir rings are far beyond the reach of a male's penis or someone's fingers. However, they are reachable by a princkmistress."

"This continues to be a bit complicated. It is not necessarily in the character of a princkmistress to pleasure a male. However, she may wish to allow him satisfaction, whether mild or ecstatic if she wishes to do so. Here is how she can do it. Each reservoir contains valves sensitive to specific magnetic fields that permit the prostate fluid to enter the reservoirs and prevent any from leaving. When a princkmistress wishes to personally harvest the accumulated prostate fluid, she dons a small elastic band that fits snuggly immediately below the head of her princk. She then inserts her princk into the male's anus. Well, we all know or anticipate what happens next."

The audience responded with playful giggles and sideways glances.

"As she drives her princk deeper, eventually she will come to the reservoir ring which feels very, very agreeable to her, sort of a gentler but nicely tight sphinctal embrace. If she is wearing the release band, the release valves will open in the reservoirs and the powerful pressure of her princkhead driving through and against the rings will 'drain the reservoirs.' This forced 'draining,' because of the assistance of the princkmistress' thrusts and pressure upon the reservoir sacks, causes the expulsion of the male's prostate fluid from the reservoirs and through and out of the male's small sexual apparatus regardless of its clogged condition. It essentially blows out his pipes.

Her movement, force and mass cause him to involuntarily ejaculate as a by-product of prostate fluid harvesting. This purging of the reservoir sacks results in extraordinary pleasure and relief for the male, far in excess of any orgasm he may ever have previously experienced in both intensity and duration. 'Drained males' often cry tears of joy and relief and spontaneously attempt to lick and suck their mistresses in any way possible.

Only on rare occasions have we disconnected, as a punishment, the nerves in a male that transmit such sensations, and the affect of such disconnection is his deep depression and reduced prostate fluid production."

"How is the harvested prostate fluid collected and what is it used for?"

"Good questions. Primarily, the prostate fluid is quite easily mechanically collected at the Pens, through the use of carefully designed dildos. As for the use of the prostate fluid, at this time the answer is not permitted for dissemination."

The crowd murmured with curiosity.

"Yes, another question. Over there."

"How does FemTech afford all this research? It doesn't charge very much for its services and products?"

"FemTech is an amazingly diverse corporation and has been in business for decades. There are products you and the world buy at every consumer and business level that are owned or controlled by FemTech, from oil and automobiles, to drugs, fashion, food and construction services. These and other subsidiary industries allow us to provide what we value most at a very low, affordable price."

"A question over here. Yes, go ahead."

"Are princkjuices addictive to females, princked or otherwise?"

"No, not at all. Princkjuices don't taste very good, but other than a temporary discomfort, females are completely immune to their addictive or tranquilizing qualities."

"Any more questions about FemTech or princks or princk-fed males? None? Okay. If you have any, you can always contact me at EricaOlmsted@hotmail.com. But let me get back to the very first question asked, the one about pregnancy. I'm very glad that issue was raised because our next speaker, Dr. Stacy Phillips, a Senior FemTech Research Scientist, has a few news-breaking comments on that subject, with a little twist that I think you will find interesting. Dr. Phillips …."

•••

The Sue Dexter Chronicles — End of Chapter Nine

ã 2005 MystyMason

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

Writer's Note: We return to the Dexter Estate and peek in as Claire Winslow prepares her young charge, Robert Dexter, for his mother's return from the FemTech weekend. For the type of intimacy his mother has in mind, it's important to be squeaky clean. Don't you agree?

Remember; don't forget to stay in touch.

Mysty

The Sue Dexter Chronicles — Chapter Ten

***

While Erica Olmsted was concluding the Question and Answer session at the Friday night FemTech pre-princk lecture at one of FemTech's field offices, the festivities at the Dexter Estate continued.

***

Claire Winslow came back from the bathroom with the fully loaded enema bag in her delicate strong hands.

"Help me think, Robert," Claire teased. "Where were we? Oh, yes … it's time for your little cleansing enema. I don't think you're going to like this; after all you've complained about everything else we've done. Oh, well. Maybe you'll surprise me."

Claire walked behind Robert and attached the bag to a little stand she had set up and then attached the open end of the bag's tubing to the enema nozzle that was still stuck in Robert's anus. "Hmm," she said as she rotated and sodomized him a bit with the large nozzle. "Let's get this in good and deep and … hmm … tight. We don't want any yucky leaking, do we?"

"Please Claire. Please, please stop. Ow! Let me go. Oh, Claire," Robert implored.

"Here comes the nice warm water, Robert. Just let it in. Don't fight it," Claire said as she released the clamp on the hose allowing the simple natural force of gravity drain the contents of the bag into his tender bowels.

"Arghg. No, no, no, no! Stop! Oh, noooo!"

Claire walked around in front of him and amused herself by watching Robert squirm. She had seen this before. His eyes were squeezed shut, partially in shame, as if by closing his eyes, Claire and his nightmare would disappear. His face went from humiliation to shock and eventually to pain and a deepening grimace spread across him as the soapy mixture began to cause some initial cramping.

"Okay, Robert. Time for your banding." She knelt down behind him and selected an appropriately sized band (quite small), slid it open (which activated the micro-slivers), grabbed his little testicle sack between her middle and index finger of her left hand, and scissored her fingers together and twisted counter-clockwise while pulling down and away from his body. Robert screamed in pain.

"What a little baby you are, Robert," she contemptibly commented."

With her right hand, she placed the open band against the tautness of his stretched skin that connected his balls to his groin. She looked at the incredibly fine, almost invisible sharp little micro-slivers looking for male flesh to attach to and invade. "Soon, soon, my little helpers," she hummed happily. Then she said to Robert, "With this ring, you do bind yourself to FemTech, your heart and your soul. Of course, once your loving mother feeds you from her 'staff of life' you will be bound to her, as well." She then clicked the locking band in place.

"No, no, noooo!" wailed Robert. "Take it off, take it off!"

"You know, Robert, only technicians from FemTech's home office can remove that little band, but why should they? It lets us know where you are. We don't ever, ever want to lose you, you know. And Robert, after twenty-four hours, if you or we take it off, your balls and penis will never work again. And if it comes off after thirty-six hours, around Sunday at 10:00 A.M., you'll die a slow agonizing death. You'll be disabled within seconds if it's removed. I've seen it happen; and your death can't be stopped, only observed. I know it's cruel, but we do it because we want you under our control and believe me, you are!" Emphasizing her last remark, she wrapped her slender fingers around his balls and gave him a sharp squeeze until he shrieked in agony.

"Yahhh!" Robert gasped and tears rushed to his reddening face. "Ugh, ugghk! Noooo! Please!"

***

After Robert had regain his composure, Claire came back in the room and sat in front of him cross-legged with her skirt drawn high on her thighs exposing her garter belts and lacey stocking tops. She just sat there, watched him stare at her legs, and smiled to herself. "How are you feeling, Robert."

"My stomach hurts real bad."

"Okay, Robert. I think your bowels are clean enough now. Let's get you to the bathroom so you can get rid of that nasty soapy water." She reached behind her back and showed him the thick obedience collar that she had brought back into the room with her.

"This little device, Robert, snaps around your neck and contracts if you give me any trouble, any trouble at all. It's voice activated only by my voice and I won't mind using it to choke you," she said matter-of-factly. "You've been very disobedient and I think you'll be finding out how this works." And with that comment she opened the collar, punched a code into its inner lining activating it, and placed around his neck. He meekly let her do it, and she thought about the little additive that she had used to supplement his enema. She watched him looking at her stockinged legs as she wiggled closer to put a final adjustment to the collar. The "female" end of the collar slipped into the worm gear of the "male" end of the collar and Claire very softly said, "Tighten." The sound of solid gears quietly whirring could be heard as the collar quickly and efficiently tightened. Just before Robert could cry out, Claire said, "Cease," and the tightening stopped at just the right compression.

"Claire, it's too tight."

"No, Robert, it's supposed to be tight" She felt its degree of snugness and said, "Yes, just exactly like that to remind you of your vulnerability. Now, let's get you out of some of these bindings so that you can go and sit on the toilet. You would like that wouldn't you?"

"Oh, yes, Claire. Yes! Please, please let me go to the bathroom!"

And this is how it works, she thought to herself. It's so simple. I have him begging me to permit him to carry out a simple bodily function like going to the bathroom. Pretty soon he'll be begging his mother to feed him some of her sacred princkjuices so that he can stay alive. Hmmm, so easy, so very easy.

***

Claire stood up and casually stretched her remarkably lithe form. It was an inadvertent movement that completely held Robert's attention. Clare took a few steps and positioned herself behind her young ward. "First Robert, let's dispense with this annoying little nozzle thing," she said as she casually tapped it in a little deeper with her fingertips.

"Argg!"

"Let's replace it with something that doesn't stick so far out, so I won't bump into it so often," she said tapping it in still further.

"Argg! Please!"

"Ah, here's what I want." She leaned over him and dangled a thick tapered butt plug in front of Robert's face.

"What ... what are you going to do with that ... thing?"

"I'm going to keep you from embarrassing yourself after I remove the nozzle." She then applied some lubricating jelly to the butt plug and deftly placed it in his rear end at the same time that she withdrew the nozzle. "You didn't spill a drop. I'm so proud of you, Robert."

Robert began to cry with new pain as the plug spread him wider, or maybe it was just the humiliation.

Claire moved about Robert and began to undo the bindings that held him to the bottom of the top of his mother's dressing table. He had been there so long that he simply fell to the floor when those bindings released. Then, with him in that weakened state, she attached the elastic ankle strap so that his legs would be bound to permit walking but not kicking. And then, of course, she used the FemTech standard binding of the arms behind the back, tied at the elbows and wrists. A bit painful and unnecessary in light of the control collar, but with a purpose — an assurance of total obedience. "Okay little guy, off to the bathroom."

Claire grabbed Robert under his shoulders and hauled him to his feet. For the first few steps he staggered trying to regain his sense of balance. His insides raged from the soapy mixture churning in his guts, but he was able to really look at Claire for the first time. She seemed so gentle in nature, and extraordinarily beautiful. Just like his mother, only smaller, and with the same cruel streak.

As they approached the toilet Claire offered, "Okay, Robert, take a seat."

"Leave, Claire."

She spun him around facing her with his back to the toilet, stepped with her left foot on his ankle tether and struck him hard with the palm of her right hand on his puny chest causing him to take an immediate and painful seat on the toilet. She leaned down toward him and hissed in his face, "Don't you ever tell me what to do again, you little rich creep or I'll slash your balls off and feed them to you while you bleed to death. Do you understand? Answer me!"

"Er, er, ... yes, yes, I ... I do."

She placed her right high-heeled foot on the front of the toilet seat and shoved the toe forward — hard — into his balls and penis. He gasped in pain.

"This is all the privacy you're going to get."

Robert, wincing in pain, looked up at her. "Oh, god! Please Claire, please stop. It hurts so bad!"

She gave her foot one ... last ... extra thrust, reached forward, grabbed him by his hair with her left hand and wrenched his face to hers. "Robert, don't ever give me an instruction!" And with that she slapped him so hard that that he saw stars, lost consciousness and slumped forward against her stockinged leg. "Wow, what a baby," she thought

She stepped back, but held on to his hair as he fell to the floor. She then picked his slender body up, turned him around, stuck his face in the toilet and flushed it. The sound and the spray jolted him back to life and he tried to back out of the toilet, but she pinned him with a knee to his back. "Behave, Robert. Submit, Robert. Surrender, Robert and I will let you survive our encounter. Robert, I have killed more then once with my bare hands," and she clenched them around his throat below the control collar.

"Aechheggh. No, no, please."

She gradually relented, nearly lost in the urge to crush his aching larynx. She exhaled to calm herself and then stepped back and hissed, "Keep your head down in there!" He did.

***

She surveyed the scene. Robert's head was in the toilet and the butt plug was in his ass. Somehow things seemed a bit out of order. "Okay, Robert. Stand up." He did.

I'm going to take the butt plug out and you're going to sit on the toilet and poop. If you drip any on the floor I'm going to make you lick it up, and if you disobey me I'm going to stick your head in the toilet when it has all your poop in it. Understand?"

"Yes, Claire. ... Oh, Claire. Please, I'm only asking. But, please, oh please, can I be standing right over the toilet when the butt plug come out? Please, oh please, I don't want to mess the floor. My stomach hurts so bad, I don't know if I'll ... be ... able (sob) ... to ... do ... it (sob)... right," he earnestly cried and sputtered.

"Yes, Robert, I'll do that."

She took him by his shoulders and gently guided him back a few mincing steps so that his butt was over the toilet. "Now bend down as far as you can go without sitting down." He did.

She reached around behind him, with her right hand grasped the plug by a little ring, and with her left hand spread his cheeks apart. Then, with a firm steady pull she popped the plug free and pushed him down on the seat. A gush of foul smelling mixture flooded into the bowl from his bowels. Robert gasped from fear and relief.

"Did I spill any?" he timidly asked.

"No, I don't think so. That's because I let you stand right over the toilet."

"Oh, Claire. Thank you, thank you," he almost swooned in relief and submissiveness.

Claire turned the fan on and flushed the toilet a few times. She looked at him; she was feeling larger and he was looking smaller. That's the way it always happened. Their relationship was coming into proper perspective, slowly but inexorably.

"Okay, Robert. Hop into the shower," she said rolling out some paper towels for him to walk on. "No dripping! Keep it clenched, Robert!" He did.

She reached in, turned the shower on, and adjusted it so it was just the right temperature. The warm water rained down upon him, and she started lathering him up, all of him, with warm slippery soap. First his legs and feet, then his chest and face, as the warm water washed the soap off of his small body. Then his rump and genitals ... special attention to his rump and genitals. She inserted the middle finger of her right hand into his tight bottom and then began with her left hand to gently and expertly massage and pull at his little penis.

"No! Claire, stop! No!" shouted Robert as the sexual stimulation began to overcome his senses.

"Tighten," purred Claire, and the quiet whirring of the collar began. A flash of panic crossed Robert's face and his eyes began to roll back up in his head. He twisted his neck in futility to escape the slow steadily increasing constriction around his throat. Slowly he slumped to his knees in the shower and looked around to Claire whose finger was still thrust up his anus and whose left hand firmly gripped his slender little penis. He was mouthing the words "please" but no sounds were able to escape his lips.

Claire arched her eyes and examined him as a technician might examine a little white mouse. "Cease," she said with some disappointment at not allowing her clever little mechanical assistant from fully carrying out its task; then "Release," and then after a few seconds, "Cease," and the collar resumed its previous level of contraction.

After a few seconds Robert came around and Claire began again to manipulate his anus and penis. Robert was terrified and even though he had worked his way only back up to his knees, he was in constant danger of falling over from the force of his shaking and blubbering.

Gradually, under her expert hands, his little penis began to get hard and his shaking stopped quite a bit. Slowly, he began to enter the enchantment of her fingers and his hips began to tentatively rock and then thrust against them, first forward then back. As she sensed his coming close to achieving sexual release, she suddenly withdrew her fingers from their work and simply smiled at him as he thrust towards where they had been.

"There, Robert, that wasn't so bad was it?" she asked.

She took a large fluffy towel and dried him and her arms off and then helped him out of the shower and led him into his mother's bedroom. "Robert, let's play a little game." Claire sat on the edge of his mother's bed and crossed her long shapely legs, pulling her skirt up into her lap. Her stockings, garters and lacy underwear were exposed. "Here Robert," she said as she slightly raised her legs over his elastic ankle strap and pulled him toward her so that each of his legs was on one side of her legs. "Closer." She said as she gripped his slender hips with her hands and drew him closer until his balls and penis began to just brush the top of her stocking-clad crossed legs. Robert gasped.

"Here's the game, Robert. Your mother said that I could do your penile piercings with out any anesthetic. That means that I can drive a stud through your penis without using any painkiller."

"No, no, please Claire, please."

"Shush, Robert. But if you can rub against my stocking with out having your little penis squirt, I will use a painkiller so it won't hurt you. How about that? Do you think you can keep from having your penis spray its little juices? "

"I, ... I... don't know."

"Well, let's find out." Claire kept a firm grip on his little hips and drew her feet closer to her so that her thighs rose higher and tighter up into his groin and Robert was forced to his tiptoes. She then began to push and pull him so that his balls and penis slid back and forth against her silky firm smooth legs. She watched as he both grimaced and almost swooned at the sensations he experienced.

"Piecing a male's penis, especially its round little head can be excruciatingly painful for him."

"Oh, god, Claire, please stop. You're making me ... oh ... do it! Please stop!"

But Claire had no intention of stopping. Instead she drew her feet closer to her and her thighs pressed even more firmly up against his penis and balls. She watched him as his face screwed up tightly and he bit his lip to try to keep from cuming.

"Robert, Robert?"

"Yes, y … ye ... yes, Claire?"

"These black lacy stockings that I'm wearing. Look at them."

Robert looked down at Claire's amazingly shapely silk-clad legs.

Claire continued to stroke Robert's genitals against her leg, pulling him forward and back. "These black lacy stockings that I'm wearing, Robert, they're your mother's. And these panties ... these panties ... (Claire released her right hand's grip from Robert's pelvis and held up a tiny pair of soiled black lacey panties in front of Robert's face) ... these panties are also your mother's." She squeezed them into a tight efficient wad and jammed them into Robert's gasping mouth. Robert's eyes bugged wide and he gasped again, involuntarily tasting and inhaling his mother's beloved genital discharges.

"Ahhh! Ohh! Ahh! Ohhh!" Robert squealed as his little penis vigorously squirted its minor contents on Claire's magnificent leg.

"Oh, god, no! Oh, no!"

"Oh, yes, oh, yes! Sorry, little guy. You lost the bet; your little penis betrayed you."

Robert's eyes began to fill with tears.

"Oh, well, Robert," Claire said while pulling Sue's panties from his mouth, "I guess all that masturbation with your mother's stockings and panties must have over-sensitized you to them. Don't worry, though, FemTech will make sure that your penis, if your mother lets you keep it, is always under control and well behaved."

Robert began sobbing and looked imploringly into Claire's eyes. But Claire wasn't looking at him; she was surveying the scene. Particularly the small splotch of sticky fluid adorning the thigh of her right leg

"Oh, Robert, please clean up that little mess."

When he honestly didn't seem to understand what to do, Claire gently, but firmly, grabbed him by his hair and lowered his face to the little puddles of cloudy boy-fluids on her thigh and said, "Lick." He strained his face up to her, she nodded down at her thigh, and he began to lick and suck the fluids and immature sperm from her leg.

"Oh, Robert, dear, as long as you're down there keep going," and she guided him up toward the gossamer thin silk panties barely covering her sopping wet vagina. The supple gauzy black fabric contoured each curve and fold of her sweet vaginal lips and his tongue, as small as it was, was still able to push the fabric forward into her while he sucked and lick and nuzzled her. She expertly directed him forward so that the bridge of his nose sawed against her clitoris. "Ummmm ... yum." With a hand on each ear she moved his facial features to just ... the ... right ... spots, and her legs spread wide ... wider ... his slavish ministrations soon rocketed her into a wilderness of exploding colors. As she screamed in unabashed delight her juices, barely deterred, seeped through her filmy thin panties and flooded over his face,. Robert, for his part, was learning how to how to hold his breath to survive female orgasms and their aftermath.

Claire eventually released her grip on his ears and he collapsed, gasping for air on the floor beneath her spread legs.

"Oh, Robert, your mother was right, sooo right. You are a natural little pussy licker! Yum, yum, yum!

Claire stood up, snagged her panties, pulled them out from between her vaginal lips and straightened her skirt. "Well, Robert. Let's get busy. The nose piercing first."

Robert just cried and cried.

***

The Sue Dexter Chronicles — End of Chapter Ten

ã 2005 MystyMason

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

Writers' Notes: There's always something interesting going on at the FemTech Field Offices. Maybe your wife or girlfriend, or other important woman in your life will invite you to attend a friendly little after-hours auxiliary meeting while she's attending an educational lecture. Hmmm? You might even get to meet Erica. Won't that be nice?

The Sue Dexter Chronicles — Chapter Eleven

***

Meanwhile, back at the FemTech lecture hall, tall, stately, beautiful Stacy Phillips walked to the microphone; her slit tight black grown flashed an amazing length of shapely leg and stocking-top garters. Even with only women present, the room hushes.

"Hello ladies, I'm Dr. Stacy Phillips and I am a Senior Researcher with FemTech." What she didn't tell them was that she has been a Senior Researcher with FemTech for over thirty-five years.

Stacy was stunning in her wasp-waisted low cut dress. She had the ambiance of a very, very satisfied adult woman, and the look of a very vital youthful goddess. Of course, she had just fed vast quantities of princkcum to her rival, Dr. Michael Dolin and that contributed to her satisfaction. But it did not explain how an older Senior Researcher could have obtained (maintained?) such a youthful appearance.

"The general public has been given little information regarding the long-term biological impact upon a woman who has obtained a princk. Nor have we disseminated information about the research concerning the affects upon princkmistresses of fluids obtained from 'milking' or 'extracting' or 'draining the reservoirs' of princk-fed males, and I'm not at liberty to divulge FemTech research in this regard. But I will say that we expect to go public with some of the data gained from these experiments. And, of course, you all will be the beneficiaries of our research."

The crowd responded with polite applause, not fully understanding that this magnificent healthy female-creature, who looked like she was twenty-something was actually quite a bit chronologically, but not physically, older. Stacy thought to herself, "Yes. Males are so very, very useful, and FemTech has the males, you might say, by the balls and we're never, never going to let go. Why should we? And if a few balls get crushed in our grip, that's all the better!" And she envisioned her fingers tightly wrapped around Michael Dolin's tender plums.

As the quiet applause died down, she came out of her sexual musing.

"Uh, yes. Thank you, thank you. You are all in for an experience that will be as exciting and ... long-lived as mine, I'm sure."

"But let us turn to the effects of our sexual fluids upon males. Other than the earlier discussed, fairly well known effects of regular consumption of princkjuice upon banded house-males, the following observations also can be made regarding long-term exclusively princk-fed male in the Pens: "

"The males' musculature, skin and internal organs steadily increase in firmness, tightness and elasticity over time. What this means from the standpoint of our sexual pleasure is that males fed steady quantities of princk fluids will retain and vastly improve in the tightness of their orifices, while at the same time reduce the amount of tearing and destruction which is so common. This increased ability to stretch and accommodate large objects without tearing does not, however, short-circuit or prevent the male from feeling the pain or fear normally associated with the body's normal pre-princkjuice range of elasticity. In other words, although the male knows intellectually from repeated daily experiences in the Pens that he did not and will not tear, he can not overcome his biological underpinnings and internal neural receptors that continue to try, to the very depth of his being, to warn him to avoid the perceived damage that our sexual invasion could potentially do to him. "

"For example ... " — and a large overhead curtain lifted behind Stacy and the other women sitting on the stage, exposing a naked young male tethered to a ring imbedded in the stage floor by a heavy nylon leash locked to his perineum "D"-ring piercing — "this male has been in the Pens for quite some time. His muscles, organs and tissues are reportedly physically very, very resilient and his rectal muscle and tissue tone is such that anal or intestinal tearing is extremely unlikely. He has demonstrated some behavior that let lets us know that he intellectually knows that. Let's see what happens. Being out of the Pens for an evening is a very special treat. But he may not appreciate it entirely tonight."

The other women moved off the stage, taking their chairs with them and sat comfortably in the wings while two other women, one with a hand-held camera and the other with sound equipment stood ready.

"Hi, April," said Stacy, to an attractive young woman who walked onto the stage to the microphone. "Would you introduce your brother?"

"Sure. This is my big brother, Jason. My mother and I brought him to the Pens about, let me see" — she took out a small notebook and began to flip the pages — "six years, two months and seven days ago."

"How old was he then, April?"

"Jason was seventeen years and exactly three months and that meant I was eleven years, ... (she looked up at the ceiling) ... one month and six days," she said proudly.

"Thank you, April. And why was he brought to the Pens?"

"He was sort of 'extra.' He was older then the rest of us, and mom just didn't really like him. I think she thought he looked the most like dad, and that really was a bad thing for him."

"What do you mean by 'extra?'" Stacy was really interested in how women, princks, and males interacted.

"Oh, I've got three younger brothers. Actually, I used to have four younger brothers, but we had a little accident. So Jason was a fifth brother, the oldest, and mom felt that it would be just fine if we gave him to FemTech, so we did."

"You used to have five brothers and then you had four. What happened?"

"Well, mom and I were both going after the oldest one left at home, Ralph, and mom was a little angry because he hadn't put the dishes away after he had dried them, and she's pretty well endowed. I mean real big. Kind of like me. And she just sort of took him. You know, she just plunged into him that night, really hard. He was trying to cough her out, you know. Not just a cough in the throat, but deeper, real deep. But a man can't really cough a woman out, you know. But they try, and the coughing feels pretty good down there. You know, when a man is coughing or choking because someone is doing his face and you're doing his butt, you can feel it all the way down there even though the other woman's princk is way up in his throat. It's really more of a vibration then a sound. I think it's because they know if they don't get her penis out of their mouth they're going to die, so that's why they use every ounce of strength they have. It's actually pretty cool to have happen, but you can't do it too much because some people are attached to their males. I mean, mom and I are always attached to our males, if you know what I mean. Anyway, when I was over at a friend's house, we really got in trouble with her mom because of what we did to her dad, I mean the mom's dad. He was pretty old and weak, and even though we were little kids, he didn't have much of a chance. Oh, shit, I got off the topic, didn't I? Anyway, back to my brother, Ralph. Like I said, I'm pretty big and so is my mom, and I was going between his buns and by the time I looked up, Richie was beyond red-faced. I mean he was darker than that, but he was still alive. Of course, he was stuck on mom's princk like a hotdog on a campfire stick and he couldn't have backed off her either because I was shoving him forward. I guess mom and I both sort of did it to him. Anyway, mom was in a furious state of sex. I mean she was breathing hard and loud and almost roaring. I was deep into his butt and mom was shoving us both around the room. I don't even think she remembered that I was there. It was like I was the smaller locomotive in the freight yard or something. By the time she pulled part way out, Richie was still breathing, but I bet if he lived he'd be retarded like my brother Dale. We've had Dale so oxygen deprived so often that now he's either always acting like a moron or is a moron. I really can't tell, except he sure does act funny. You know, when people tell you something's dangerous and they say, 'Don't try this at home' ... Shit, that's exactly what we're always doing at home. As long as it's safe for mom and me that is. Anyway, back to Ralph. I think he died when mom began to pull out, but even so, his mouth was still holding hard to her princk, so mom starting pumping him again and she really got off on it. I don't think she even knew he was gone. Anyway, mom definitely didn't care, and because of that my other three brothers were really scared of her after that, and they still are. There are absolutely no goof-ups at my house. Mom always says that if she had invented baseball, it would have been one strike and you're out. None of this fucking three strikes crap. That's what mom says."

"Um, April."

"Yes?"

"We would like you to show the women here tonight that even though Jason is very, um, physically pliable and resilient, he really doesn't emotionally understand his enhanced survivability. So let me ask you, when was the last time you took Jason anally and caused him some physical damage?

"Let's see..." — April got out her little notebook and began leafing through the pages again — "the last time I really made him bleed was after he'd been in the Pens for two years, seven weeks. It was the typical rectal tearing, with no serious hemorrhaging that time. And, of course, my cum took care of any possible infection and stopped the bleeding, too. So do you want me to do it to him now? I'd really like to."

"April, ... be our guest."

April turned and walked toward Jason, who had been trying all this time (beyond hope) to chew through the heavy nylon tether. April grinned at Jason and slowly advanced toward him. She was a tomboyish young woman, with ample but small breasts, and a glow of farm girl good looks and health that all would call her beautiful. Jason was strong looking and moved with a surprising amount of grace, considering his accommodations for the past six years. As she strolled over to him, he let go of the tether and moved away from her to the "end of his rope," you might say.

"Please don't do it to me. Please!"

At his whining, April turned to the audience and smiled.

April wore a simple outfit: a white button-up blouse and a cream colored short diaphanous silk skirt, which began to rise in front from her sexual anticipation. As she walked slowly toward him she straddled the tether rope so that it was between her advancing footsteps. You could see that Jason was afraid to make any evasive actions that could cause the rope to touch his sister, and pretty soon she was standing over him as he cowered on the stage.

"Jason, honey" April said sweetly. "Turn around and bend over. You know, just like we discussed."

But Jason's eyes were fixed on the end of April massive equipment. It was a sturdy piece of flesh that Jason had seen many, many times before and it still terrified him. It was, ... well, ..., ah, ... substantial. Sort of like a blunt instrument. Its head didn't bob up and down like most other princks would. It sort of rose and fell like the tides. Its head ... its head must have been at least three inches across at the widest, tucked in with a little waist beneath its head and steadily expanded as it made its way toward the trunk of that tree. How could that thing get in him? Could it?

He sat spread-eagle before her with the tether running tight from his perineum ring to the fastening in the stage floor. The camerawoman and sound engineer moved in closer and his image was displayed on a large overhead screen.

April shed her shoes and moved a bit closer to him, so the tips of her bare toes just nuzzled the end of his limp cock. She pointed her right foot and gently lifted his penis off his balls and placed her toes where the base of his cock began.

"Jason, do as I say." And she leaned forward a bit onto his testicles.

"Please, no. April."

"Oh, yes, Jason. You know I am prepared to mash your testicles into jelly, don't you." She bent down and softly hissed in his ear, "FemTech would be mad. They'd get over it, but you wouldn't!"

As her pressure increased on his balls, he began to nod his head up and down, up and down.

"Please, yes, I'll do it. Yes, yes! Arghgh!"

"You're so cooperative, Jason."

She tapped ... hard ... and then lifted her foot. Tears were streaming down Jason's cheeks as he struggled to turn around and get on his hands and knees for her. The camera was moving in for close-ups as she tore away her little skirt. God, her tool was massive. A FemTech experiment in the outer limits of possibilities? Or perhaps a purposeful act of medical research? Either way, she was going to sink it into him.

The camera picked up the glistening reflection of April's natural lubricating ooze slicking the large surface of her princk. "It better be 'Slippery when wet,'" one woman said to her neighbor as she gazed at the seemingly impossible combination of his rectal opening and April's monstrous tool.

April pressed the head of her princk between Jason's butt cheeks, cruelly spreading them even further apart.

"Jason. We're going to do the 'plow,' give me your hands."

"Oh, god," Jason whispered to himself, as he lifted his arms behind him and pressed the right side of his face against the wooded stage floor. Jason was now a tripod: knees and head on the floor, and with his sister holding his arms and hands above and behind his back he did, in fact, look like a plow. But it was April who was both doing the plowing and planting the seeds.

April bent her knees and lowered his arms so that her pelvis, princk, Jason's ass, arms, chest and face formed a straight line, and then pushing with her legs and hips and pulling with her strong young arms, first the head of her massive penis bullied its way passed his helpless sphincter guardian, and then its widening inches began to tunnel steadily into Jason's warm wet depths.

Many women in the audience turned their heads and grimaced, waiting for the ripping, tearing and splattering of blood, which seems so inevitable. But Stacey and one of her Medical Research staffers on stage simply leaned in a little closer and smiled knowingly to one another.

Jason' s screaming and his gasping, choking breaths only interrupted his howling as he fought the pain and his possible journey to insanity. He didn't know where he was. He didn't know his face was pressed to the floor, or that his sister was impaling him once again with the staff that had come to have the only meaning for him in his life. It was impossible for him to even locate the source of his agony ... the near dislocation of his shoulders, the pain in his rectum, the fear of being rent asunder. There was even a fleeting fear that she might decide to no longer do this to him. That she might stop this ritual of six years that gave him meaning in his life, his elemental reason for being. He loved her and her princk and worshiped it. He truly belonged to her. With all his resistance, he would never, ever, raise a hand to stop her. Her princk belonged in him as much as it belonged hanging from her groin.

But as much as Jason was in pain, April was in pleasure. Oh, the tight sweetness. Oh, the release which was beginning to churn deep within her. Her cum was about to mingle with the precum already swirling around within him. April's movements, once slow and smooth, became jerky and violent as she ruthlessly rubbed and jammed her mammoth organ forward and side-to-side. April began a deep rumbling grunting sound that transformed into a high-pitched series of screaming squeals. No recognizable words, just long, "Ahheeeeeeeaaaaaa," punctuated by short quick inhalations, and then "Ahhheeeaaaeeeaaa!"

April released his arms and collapsed on Jason's back, and he, in turn, slowly sank to the floor like an ice cube melting.

The camerawoman and sound engineer had followed this in great detail, and when April pulled out of her brother, they and Stacey and her assistant were there at the scene.

The large overhead screen showed the close-up action. April's enormous princk, so wide at its base, was fully inserted to the hilt into Jason's rectal cavity. And then she began to withdraw her weapon. She leaned back and placed her hands where the small of his back met the tops of his buttocks and steadily pushed him down and off her, It was like a school bus backing out of a garage that was much too small for it. As she pulled herself out, his sphinctal muscles clung tightly to her princk as if he didn't really want to let her go. Truthfully, each time after the violence of the insertion, thrusting, and her orgiastic eruptions, Jason found that a peace and fullness defined him. And as cruel as it was, it kept him alive.

Finally, April came to the "narrow" waist of her princk just below its head. She turned coyly to the camera and to Stacey. Stacy nodded her head and April pushed hard against her brother's buttocks and with a gasp of final pleasure, popped herself free.

What the camera caught was his anus, unharmed, squeezing shut. Not a drop of April's juices dripped from Jason's rectal orifice. There was, however, quite a bit dripping from April's princk and Stacey's assistant handed her a towel and then started applauding for April. The audience joined in, even more enthusiastically when they saw Jason actually stagger to his feet and stand up. It was no exaggeration to say that they applauded as much for Jason as for April.

The overhead screen retracted to the ceiling, the women took their chairs and sat on the stage once again, this time joined by April, while her brother was helped off (to more applause) by a FemTech Security Officer who would take him back to the Pens.

A relieved Stacey Phillips took her place at the microphone. This was one event that she hadn't personally choreographed. But what her Senior Medical Assistant, Terrie Evans, MD, told her was right: FemTech's work in Terrie's Division appeared to be coming along on right on schedule.

"Ladies and girls, I certainly want to thank April and Dr. Evans for their presentation of male elasticity. And what you saw should be instructive for the brief, very brief balance of my little talk."

"Although what you saw was extraordinary, and Jason successfully survived with no damage, you should be advised that even a well elasticized male can, in fact, be wounded and killed by a brutal sexual assault by an experienced princkmistress, and deaths in the Pens do occur. So, the males' warning systems, just like Jason's, are not to be considered faulty by any means. However, it is considered to be a very, very positive result that males become tighter and more elastic, rather that looser and more brittle over time."

"This same form of elasticity has been also long been noted in the skeleton, cartilage and tendons of the long-term princk-fed males. As I mentioned last week, this led, eight years ago, to a very exciting series of now ongoing trials concerning the use of uterine and ovarian implants in males of all ages and experiments regarding the possibility of FemTech Male Reproduction Units or MRU's, particularly regarding the birthing of males infants by breeding-stock male 'mothers.' In essence, human male husbandry, or as we jokingly call it — 'husbandry husbandry.'" The crowd chuckled and tittered.

"At this point, we are successfully experimenting with implanting pig uterus into experimental breeding-stock male-mothers, and it is anticipated that an artificial uterus using the same basic operating system as organic micro-slivers will be available. At one time, we at FemTech thought that we might have to be somewhat restrictive or conservative in the use of males for our natural, instinctive sexual satisfaction out of the concern that we might actually run out of these submissive, ornery, tricky, fearful little men and boys."

"However, ladies and girls, we now know…," Stacy took her time and looked at each of the women and girls in the large crowd, "… and are very proud to announce…," Stacy paused again for effect before the totally silent audience, "… that in a short period of time, we'll be having a steady, planned migration of choice long-term males from the Pens to the FemTech 'paternity wards,' and our concerns regarding limited numbers of males will end."

"If women themselves wish to have children, male or female, they will always be able to do so. But if you wish to avoid the somewhat arduous task of carrying a child and giving birth, you can always have your males implanted with the DNA of your choice and let the men do the work." The audience responded with ardent cheers and amazed applause. "Yes, just think about it … paternity wards." And a graceful exquisite smile slowly crossed Dr. Philips's face as she acknowledged the appreciative crowd with a wave and a bow, and then walked off the stage modestly grinning to herself at life's wondrous possibilities.

"Yes," she thought to herself, "Maybe Marsha will grow tired of her husband, the famous Dr. Michael Dolin. He would be another good subject, … and good example … for men who think that they can stand in the way of FemTech and destiny. Yes. Hmm, a pregnant Dr. Michael Dolin with a naked swelling abdomen on the cover of a future issue of the FemTech Journal. Yes. With an issue on every newsstand. That sounds very nice, indeed."

Sue Dexter sat in the crowd thinking about what Dr. Phillips had just said. "Just imagine … someday … an unending clan of tight little Roberts to serve me. I think that might be fun."

A woman sitting next to Sue saw her smiling and said to her, "Think of that. All the males we could ever want, and all of them fatally addicted to our yucky sexual discharge! How comical." And they both leaned towards each other with a hand on the other's shoulder and laughed. Yes, this was going to be a fine New World, positively quite fine.

***

***

After the seminar, Erica Olmsted went into her private back office, unbuttoned her white blouse, and hung it up in the closet. She then reached down, shimmied out of her black skirt, and placed in the closet, as well. Still wearing her heels and her fishnet top, she fixed herself a drink, drank it and then sat down in her "interview" chair.

"Phyllis?" she called out, who's the first one?"

"It's a son of one of the women in tonight's Seminar."

"Very good," said Erica. "And his status?"

"Banded, teeth removed, and standard FemTech binding; wrists and elbows bound behind the back; ankles tethered by elastic cording. One more thing, Erica, he hasn't been princked yet."

"Hmm. A virgin," she thought to herself. "What's the manifest?"

"His name is Jon, and his mom wants him addicted and subdued. His mother has certainly done her homework. Jon is polite, respectful, and physically and mentally spread open. Submissive. You know, … stunned."

"Show him in."

Phyllis walked into the room leading a young boy by a neck collar and leash; he was trying to look as brave as he could. He was younger than she thought he would be and when he stood right in front of her, she began to fix him with her eyes. "Jon, Jon?" she said. "Where are you?"

Where was Jon? He was lost in fear and admiration staring at Erica's crotch as her magnificent cobra began to slowly un-hood itself and rise and spiral from her groin. "How could it keep getting bigger?" Jon thought. And yet it did. Bigger and ramrod straight!

"Jon. Let your knees know the softness of the carpet." Mesmerized, he slowly sank to his knees before her as she reached forward with her right hand and clutched him by the hair on the back of his head.

As she drew him to her waiting drooling female penis, she gracefully slipped her left foot around the back of his head so that the crook of her ankle held his neck firmly. There was no escape.

"Pleasth, no. No. Oooth, awuooth, splessooth..." Her bayonet stabbed him in the mouth interrupting his protests, as her smooth left leg slid across the back of his neck until it was the crook of her knee that now held him in place. Then, just as gracefully, her right leg joined her left around his neck and head, drawing her princk deeper and deeper into him.

She let go with her arms and leaned comfortably back in the chair as she had planned. His whole body began to shake ... first gently with little fine tremors, and then violently as he tried to pull his head back and disgorge the massive hook which was now deeply imbedded in his throat. But he had fallen forward, and his two points of contact with the world were his knees and his face. And his face had fully slid down upon Erica's fine feminine shaft. Vast quantities of princk precum pumped out of Erica into her little subject. Her legs increased the pressure on the back of his head and neck, drawing his face tight and tighter to her. His nose was now pressed against the firmness of her belly and he couldn't breath. He looked up into her cool merciless eyes. The sensation of the princk precum flowing through her exquisite sexual tubes and channels was causing Erica to begin to swoon when his collar picked his medical distress and began to set off its loud alarm. Phyllis walked back into the room. "Harumph! Harumph! Hello!? Erica!?"

"Oh. Oh. What! Oh. Thank you, Phyllis. Almost ... phew ... inadvertently ... phew ... almost ... terminated ... another one. I do believe his mother might have been upset," she said unlocking her legs and letting hs face get some breathing room.

She leaned down and pushed both his head and her not-quite-fully-buried princk down between her thighs so that she could get a better look at him. He looked up at her with the most pitiful face. She grabbed his soft little ears and used them as handles to work his tight mouth up and down her staff. Ten, twenty ... strokes ... long strokes ... almost out of his mouth, but not quite ... didn't want to spill any of that precious princkcum on the rug ... how can anything that feels this good involve anything that tastes that bad? Twenty five long strokes ... uhm ... now short strokes ... tight gums right under the head of my princk ... oh, yessss, ... rub the skin, ... rub and mouth-hug my cum-breathing dragon ... ah, yes ... umm ... closer, ... umm, closer, umm, ... ."

With the force of a ranging storm at sea she exploded into his face and a little princkcum squirted out between the tight seal of his lips and her slippery throbbing penis. She shook her head back and forth and moaned and moaned and then sighed in ecstasy. Hearing Erica's loud sighs, Phyllis came in with a juvenile-sized ball gag. When Erica eventually withdrew her princk from its scabbard in his throat and threw Jon to the rug, Phyllis quickly placed a towel over Erica's still pulsing princk and shoved the ball gag in Jon's mouth, lashing it to the back of his head and neck. "Mustn't mess up the carpet, Jon," Phyllis sternly cautioned.

Erica wiped off her steaming princk with the towel, tossed the towel in a plastic bag, and sealed it. "Take it to the lab for testing, and don't get any finger prints on it," she joked with Phyllis as she tossed the bag and towel in the recycling bin. They both laughed. Jon was on the floor with a look of terror. Erica and Phyllis then dragged Jon off to the lift to whisk him to one of the post-princking recovery areas where medical treatment would be available, if necessary. "Just swallow, Jon," said Phyllis. "Just swallow and you may not choke to death." As to the recycling bin, it was a nasty job to do the stale prink-rag laundry, but there were many males who begged to do it just to get a few hours out of their PENS cages.

Erica sat back down in the chair, looking amazingly composed and dangerous, her princk no longer rock hard, but softer and leaning to her left. Erica nestled her magnificent butt into the chair, rearranged the leopard cushions, and placed her arms across the back of the chair. She enjoyed looking good for her work. It was a dirty job, but somebody had to do it. She looked up at Phyllis who had fixed herself a drink and was ready to go back to the waiting room, filled with men and boys.

"So, Phyllis," Erica purred, "who's next?"

***

The Sue Dexter Chronicles — End of Chapter Eleven

ã 2005 MystyMason

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

Writer's Note: Well, we can't just keep eavesdropping on Eric all night; that wouldn't be polite. Anyway, there seems to be a bit of a problem back at the Dexter Estate. Aren't you glad Claire Winslow is there to keep an eye on things? Hmmm?

The Sue Dexter Chronicles —Chapter Twelve

***

On the south wall in Sue's bedroom, the bright light flashed again and a steady beep emanated from the surveillance system. A lone figure had broken a pane of glass in the kitchen door and unlocked it.

"Ladies," Claire said, "we have a white male intruder in the kitchen. Out the Library to the hallway, then right, keep going until you get to the 'T,' then turn to your left, the kitchen door is the fourth door on the left. He's still in there."

Tabatha packed her princk back in her harness and she, Marlie, and Annie were on their way to the kitchen leaving Brenda with the two cuffed men.

***

Claire watched the intruder moving around the kitchen, checking the refrigerator, the cabinets, and then slowly making his way, almost casually, towards the hallway where three highly trained FemTech Security personnel were waiting.

"He looks like a common burglar ... young, in his teens, I think. Slender, alone, wearing what looks like dark leather pants and vest, no visible weapons. He's on the other side of the door and immediately to the left, about six feet off," Claire relayed to the women.

Tabatha burst through the door and snaked to the left. The youth immediately began to turn to run, and turning was the only defense he had. Within seconds, Tabatha had her right arm wrapped around his throat and began applying a suffocating chokehold. Quickly, the boy collapsed in Tabatha's arms and slithered along the length of her lean, muscled body to the floor. "Wow, that was kind of sweet. How about this one?" Tabatha said to Annie pointing to her new captive, "Will Brenda say he's okay or do I have to let him go, too!"

"Tabatha," said Annie, "you and Marlie can do whatever you want with Mr. Broken Wrist and Leatherboy as long as you clean up after yourselves."

Tabatha and Marlie smiled at each other.

Claire added through her microphone, "Oh, Marlie, Tabatha, there's a large, large shower room, massage tables, etc., in Sue Dexter's basement work-out facility. Out the kitchen and third door on your left, down the stars and then second right. Looks good in the schematics."

"Tabatha looked up at the ceiling in the direction of Sue's bedroom, "Claire, you're a doll. Always thinking. Thank you."

***

Brenda had her right foot on the side of Henry Dexter's head when Marlie and Annie came back in the room. Marlie bent over the man with the broken wrist, who was moaning. "What's your name?" demanded Marlie.

"Elliot Woods," he whimpered. "Please help me. I've got to get to a hospital ... my hand ... I think it's broken."

"Oh, it's broken; Tabatha broke it," noted Marlie. "But, actually, it's your wrist that's shattered, not your hand. Nasty little swelling you've got there," she added noting that his wrist has swollen tight to the metal of the cuffs.

"Tell me, Elliot," asked Marlie, "didn't your parents ever tell you not to play with guns?"

"Please, help me."

"Honey," said Marlie moving in close to Elliot, "I will definitely give you something to distract you from the pain in your wrist. Come, get up and I'll take you to the clinic. We'll play with Tabatha and Leatherboy." Elliot looked confused.

"That's okay, you don't need to know. Follow me."

Elliot seemed encouraged to be going to a "clinic," and worked hard to get to his shackled feet and walked in little baby steps down the hall following Marlie like a duckling over to the basement stairway.

"Okay, guy," said Marlie pointing down the flight of stairs, "you can do it. Just hop from step to step and be careful."

"Please, please take off the leg irons."

"Elliot, you were going to try to kill someone in this house; maybe me. And you want me to try to keep you from bruising yourself? Get real. Either you hop on down or I push you down. Either way, you're going down. Your choice, kiddo."

Elliot started hopping down, step-by-step, picking up unwanted speed, and found himself unable to prevent himself from leaping the last four steps at one time, crumpling to the basement floor, screaming as his wrist slammed into the hard, expensive Portuguese tile.

"Oh, god. Oh, god! Ooww! Oh shit, oh shit!!! My hand!"

"Get up, asshole. We're almost there. And it's not your hand; it's your wrist. But don't worry, I'll be giving you lessons about your anatomy real soon."

***

Meanwhile, back in the Library, while Annie went to her van to pick up some FemTech binding equipment, Brenda and Henry (with the left side of his face mashed firmly into the library carpet) were having a little chat.

"Henry, you're a lucky man. Intruder number three just saved your life. Tabatha had you in her sights. You're alive because ... well, because, your ex-wife told us to keep you breathing until she came home from her FemTech weekend workshop. Tabs usually always gets her man; this was a rare exception."

"Pleaths, pleaths, s'let me goo," begged Henry with his mouth crushed into the thick oriental carpet.

"Sorry, Mr. Dexter. Can't do that. I mean you came here to see your son. You came here with armed force, your companion, Elliot, had a weapon and, well, you've already given up your freedom ... forever."

"Pleaths. I'll giff you lotths of money. Pleath!"

"Sorry, Mr. D., not interested."

Henry Dexter began crying as Annie entered the room with a small adult binding brace.

"Listen, Brenda," said Annie, "I've got a hot date waiting for me at home tonight. Let's get going and get this little princk-sucker ready for Claire's velvet touch." Brenda removed her foot from the side of Henry's face.

"What's ... what's going to happen to me?" asked Henry, his voice quaking.

Annie and Brenda ignored him and set up the binding rack to accept a new resident.

"Oh, god. Please let me go," begged Henry who had struggled to his knees and was trying to get to his feet.

Brenda turned and, barely looking, struck Henry hard on the left side his face with the back of her left hand. Henry involuntarily tried to block the blow with his arms, but they were cuffed behind him. Brenda was big ... and strong ... very strong.

"Damn, I hate whiners," she muttered to Annie as they finished setting up the rack.

Henry stayed down and tried to shake the stars out of his head and the blood out of his mouth. When he eventually came around, he asked, "What's going to happen to me?" as politely as he could muster.

"Were going to take you to see Claire and your son, Robert. Won't that be nice?" said Annie.

"Oh, please don't let my son see me like this. I'm ... I'm a mess."

"Mr. Dexter," said Brenda very seriously, "He won't see you as you are now. We'll take care of that."

"Oh, thank you, thank you."

Brenda and Annie looked at each other and shook their heads.

"Dexter," said Brenda, "when Robert sees you, you won't have to worry about your bloody wrinkled clothes embarrassing you because you'll be naked. And you won't have to worry about the pain in your mouth, because you'll be hurting all over from the straps stretching you and biting into your flesh in the rack. And you won't have to worry about looking out of place, because Robert will be in his own min-rack, himself. And if I were you, I'd be extra obedient from this moment forward because I already think you're a ex-rich spoiled asshole, and how we feel about you will determine how strictly we bind you in the rack. Do you understand?"

"I ... I think so," said Henry, as he began to realize the immediate gravity of his situation.

***

By the time Marlie and Elliot Woods entered Sue's basement gymnasium, Tabatha and Leatherboy were having a discussion. Actually, only Tabatha was talking.

"Now, just stay there and build up your strength, honey. Tabby baby is just going to adjust the posts so they will be comfortable for us. I do want us to be comfortable. Don't you?" Tabatha unclenched her fist and pulled her short black leather glove from her right hand. A large red, then yellowish-blue bruise began to form on the left side of the young thief's face.

The "posts" were four large stainless steel tubular rods exactly four inches in diameter, each five feet high and forming the corners of an imaginary six foot by six foot square. Each post, with its gently rounded top had numerous smooth indentations housing imbedded rings and snaps. Each sturdy post was separately pneumatically powered and could be raised or lowered by its user. These devices, of which Sue Dexter had two sets, were very popular in FemTech Field Offices and high-end princk oriented health clubs.

Tabatha walked around the unconscious Leatherboy as he lay on his back and began to fasten straps and collars to his various body parts. She then lowered all of the posts until they retracted into the floor so that a length of only two feet was left exposed. Humming quietly to herself, Tabatha attached Leatherboy's left thigh tether to a convenient fastening devices on the post nearest his left foot and repeated that operation on his right thigh tether at the same height on the post nearest his right foot. She then clipped his left biceps tether to the post nearest his left hand, repeated the action on his right biceps on the remaining post, and stood back admiring her work. "Damn, I'm good," she commented to the still unconscious boy.

The fingers of Tabatha's left hand flickered across the panel of the hand-held post controls and the posts to which the youth's thighs were tethered began to rise while the fingers of her right hand gently stroked the base of her own steadily thickening and rising post. The strain on Leatherboy's young slender frame eased him to semi-consciousness and pain.

"What ... what's happening?" said Leatherboy, as he watched his legs and lower torso slowly but inexorably rise from the floor. Tabatha said nothing as the semi-elastic tethers hoisted Leatherboy and his thighs to a height slightly higher than Tabatha's pelvis.

"Flick, flick," went Tabatha's fingers on the post controls. "Flick, flick,..." went Tabatha's fingers on herself.

The front posts rose two feet, and Leatherboy was hung, head-end down like a deerskin about to be stretched and tanned.

Tabatha walked around her new pet and using the sturdy posts as leverage, pulled each tether strap until Leatherboy was, indeed, stretched tight. As the last tether was drawn, Leatherboy winced and cried out as the pain of his condition bumped into his now fully conscious state.

***

"Hi, Tabs," said Marlie as she entered the large, well-lit gymnasium with Mr. Woods walking ... limping ... little-step-by-little-step behind her. "Look's like Leatherboy's mom stopped breastfeeding him too soon; he's a skinny little runt, isn't he? Huh, Tabs? Tabs?"

But Tabatha's mind and body were otherwise occupied.

Tabatha had unleashed her penis and was rubbing and pressing the stiff length of it and her exposed vagina against Leatherboy leaving a delicate sheen of delicious vaginal juices on his legs, face and arms. Pausing and panting, Tabatha reached into her FemTech hip-pouch and fumbling, withdrew a handful of colorful Irises, one of the standard quick-entry devices used for oral penetration.

"Yes, yes," Tabatha murmured to herself. "Yes, yes; orange looks like the right size."

Tabatha walked around the posts and crouched down a bit so that she had an inner thigh bracing each side of the top of Leatherboy's head. Looking down and holding the little, finely engineered device in her left hand, Tabatha's princk bobbed menacingly over his face. "Leather, honey. I'm going to put this little spreader in your mouth ... open wide."

"What are you going to do?"

"Wrong response, asshole," hummed Tabatha, as she slid her thighs forward a few inches and began to squeeze them together against the sides of his unprotected head. She set the Iris down on the slant of his scrawny chest, grabbed one of his nipples in each of her hands..., pulled..., and twisted. His mouth flew open and an eerie howl flew out into the room. Tabatha panted a bit heavier.

She released her grip on his nipples and, stretching her legs and arching to her toes, increased the pressure building on his reddening head and arm joints until her thighs began to vibrate from the pressure. His mouth was wide open in a silent scream. Tabatha reached for the Iris and turned it over in her hands, momentarily admiring its design and simple beauty. She then tossed it in the air, caught it and placed it in his mouth so that his row of upper front teeth fit securely within the groove created by the silicone/neoprene covered titanium valley on the outer surface of its oval shape.

Sighing, "Patience, patience," she pushed her princk to one side and placed the heel of her right hand on the depression immediately above his lower jaw and pressed down ... hard. As his mouth spread open, Tabatha wedged the bottom of the Iris so that his row of lower teeth slipped firmly with into the tight inescapable silicone/neoprene channel of FemTech's Model Orange Iris 07471. There were two small, but easily accessible knobbed wheels on each side of the Iris, and the more they were turned clockwise the more open and rounder the Iris opening became ... stretching the male's jaws wider ... and ... wider ... and ... wider. Tabatha relaxed the pressure on Leatherboy's head, let her heels find the firmness of the floor, bent her knees a bit and began to turn the wheels clockwise, slowly ... but ... steadily.

Tabatha cocked her head and held her breath to listen for the sound ... yes ... the subtle sound of a man's jaw dislocating. Even above Leatherboy's feeble attempts at moaning and crying, ... yes ... soon ... it... will ... happen.

There!

It was ... a ... sort of dull muffled snap. A quiet suction pop, perhaps. And turning the wheels became a bit ... easier. Leatherboy's eyes rolled into the back of his head and his breathing became jagged and brittle. Inside his mouth, his tongue rolled around trying desperately to orient itself. Soon ... too soon, it would have something to orient itself against.

There ... his mouth was just right. Not too loose and not too tight, and inside, still wet and slick. But first, there was the little matter of his rectum.

Tabatha backed away from his face and strolled around to her other favorite cavity. Her princk had been freed by this time and was pointing toward the far corner of the ceiling of Sue Dexter's gymnasium. As she walked, her princk moved like a raptor sizing up its hopeless prey. She placed herself between Leatherboy's tightly stretched legs and began to rub her princk against Leatherboy's skinny, shrunken manhood (boyhood?), covering it with the silky lubricant that exuded from her magnificent lengthening appendage. Then, slightly bending over and shifting her posture she brought the head of her hungry erect womanhood to the opening of his rectal cavity. Tabatha was whispering to herself, almost singing — "Do you want to go in, my little friend? Huh. Do you want to feel the heat? Yes, the heat?"

She began to rub her princk between his ass cheeks. Leatherboy began to strain and futilely try to pull away. Tabatha began to pet and caress her princk. "Yes, my little friend. I know. I know. Of course you can. Do ... (center and push)... go ... (brace the legs and push again) ... right ... (grab his hips and thrust) ... in!!"

The huge swollen head of her penis rudely entered him, tearing him badly and a small trickle of bright reddish-purple blood ran down her shaft to her pelvis, thigh, down her legs, onto one of her ankles, then slicking the floor. The princk fluids would eventually stop the bleeding, and reduce the pain a bit, but that would be then, and now was searing agony for the unfortunate little thief. Leatherboy's arms and legs, to the extent they could, flailed wildly as Tabatha's hips relentlessly pinioned into his guts, causing more damage ... potentially fatal had he not later died of other (natural?) causes. Her internal hormonal units began their biological imperative and the intoxicating sensation of precum and then the lovely princkcum began to pump, pump, pump through her inner piping (oh, oh, yes!!) into his intestinal tubing, at least what was left of it.

Tabatha was pumping back and forth into him, thrusting powerfully, trying to go all the way through him with her princk and exit his mouth. Could she actually split a man? Yes. She believed she could. Yes. Burrowing all the way through, so that half of him hung from the posts to her right, the other half on the left posts, and perhaps some of him left hanging ... dripping ... from her powerful hard princk! And Tabatha standing gloriously with her princk stiff and proud and her sweating, muscular feminine body glistening with the blood of another inferior male.

While she hammered away at Leatherboy, she thought of her brother, her fucking brother, Nelson. He had touched her in bad ways when she was young, much younger. Now she wanted to touch him. Nelson had run away or had been taken from home by male rescuers before he could be banded. She swore she would find him, and she would, but this male would have to do for now, and in her mind she tore both of them in half and then collapsed in ecstatic rage on Leatherboy's weak body. As she recovered from her satisfying orgasm, princkcum oozed to the floor from the failed torn seal between her penis and his badly damaged rectal tissues.

Leatherboy hung from the posts with Tabatha breathing heavily, resting ... panting on top of him ... and in him. The straps on his thighs and biceps stretched him particularly cruelly because of Tabatha lovely added weight, and his screams through the FemTech Model Orange Iris 07471 sounded strange and hollow as they echoed around the room. During all this time the bank of video cameras saved the action as entertainment for Sue Dexter's future "Get Acquainted with FemTech" parties.

***

The sounds (screams) from Tabatha's sacrificial lamb distracted Marlie for a moment from what she was doing to her close — intimately close at that moment — friend, Elliot Woods. However, such distraction was only momentary; Marlie was deep into her work with Elliot. After enlightening Elliot that there really wasn't a "clinic" in Sue Dexter's basement, she began to give him a clinic in princk domination ... oral domination.

Elliot was considerably larger than Leatherboy, and Marlie had selected a blue Iris, FemTech Model Blue Iris 07477. Elliot had of course resisted and Marlie, always practical, simply beat him with booted kicks to his head and body until he lay still, whimpering and a bit swollen.

"Okay, Elliot. Thank you for that little workout," puffed Marlie. "Now open wide, sweetie."

With a practiced hand, Marlie easily trapped his upper teeth within the channel of the outer rim of the Iris, and then cupping his lower jaw in the crook of the span between the thumb and index finger of her right hand, she fiercely thrust his lower jaw down, and the Iris snapped neatly in place on his lower teeth. As she turned the small knobs clockwise ... stopping from time to time to let her fingers feel the joints of his jaws straining under the expanding Iris, both Elliot's jaws and his eyes widened ... until his jaw bones were, by her practiced fingers, on the cusp of dislocating.

She stopped, and ever so slightly backed off the knobs and admired her work. Elliot was panting rapidly, his eyes darting around and filled with fear. Small whimpering sounds came out of the temporarily hollow space in his mouth.

"There, there ... don't be so afraid. It's going to be over soon. Are you a good swimmer, Elliot? Can you hold your breath for a long time? Well, we'll see, won't we."

Marlie took a small nylon noose out of her hip pack and slipped it around Elliot's strong neck, drew it snug and fastened the lead end of it to a ring embedded in the tiled floor. She then stepped back and placed her hip pack on a table, slipped off her loose fitting black slacks and tight black blouse. She stood there wearing her small black boots, out of which shapely (but finely muscled) bare legs rose. Her pulsing princk was still held in place (barely) by her thigh harness that formed a part of her black silk princkpanties, and her round breasts were nicely nestled in a see-through filigree bra.

She looked over at Tabatha, and then smiled to herself. "Damn, it's nice to love your work. Do you love your work, Elliot?"

Marlie slipped her growing womanhood out of its pen and took her hands out of its way. It didn't need any help. Although almost impossible, Mr. Woods' eyes grew even larger and he started to back away as she knew he would. Crawling backwards away from her, he scuttled his knees as fast as he could, while she steadily, slowly followed him.

Then, of course, the noose ... the simple gaily-colored blue and yellow nylon braided loop around his strong neck and vulnerable throat began to prevent any further retreat. But Marlie continued her slow leisurely advance ... one foot on each side of the nylon strap ... until she stood before him ... then placed her right boot over the nylon lead so that it ran beneath the arch created by the low heel of her right boot ... and slid her right foot toward him drawing his face closer to the floor. He tried to snap the nylon strap, jerking his head back and forth ... pulling the noose ever tighter ... making his face begin to glow ... red ... and sweaty and ... swollen.

Marlie had tried restraint, but her hands had unconsciously found their way to her own red and swollen extremity, and it drooled and pumped precum about the room. Marlie had been right, of course, the man had completely forgotten about his aching wrist and all Marlie could think about was his gaping mouth. As his frantic and futile attempts at escape tightened the noose, it took away a great deal of his air and strength ... and he looked up at her, frightened and exhausted.

Bending at her waist and knees, gripping and lifting his head with both hands by his thick hair, and dipping herself forward a bit, she bobbed her princkhead down toward his mouth and pressed it to the threshold of the soft, smooth surfaced Iris. Shifting her grip ... and her hips ... she gently hunched forward until the head, just the very head of her penis wedged itself past the Iris and into Elliot's mouth. Marlie gasped at the sensation and her right hand shifted and coarsely grabbed the long brown hair on the back of Elliot's large round head and pulled ... hard. Her penis was so, so lubricated and slick and there was no problem sliding Elliot's face over it ... to ... just ... the ... desired ... location. A location which would maximize the flooding of his lungs with princkcum. She shuddered at the thought.

"Yes," she thought to herself, "Yes, there goes his jaw," as her sensitive princk shaft felt the shifting in his face. Elliot renewed his efforts to escape the pain, but it was too little, much too little and much too late. Only a decision not to go to Sue Dexter's residence could have saved him.

Now she was flying ... her penis thrusting in and out, but always coming back ... for an instant or two ... to the same location. Her balls were churning and sending a delicious sensation of cum swirling throughout her nerve-laden tubes and canals. As her cum exploded into Elliot, it was Marlie's eyes rolling up in the back of her head. The seal of the Iris hugging her thick princk was, as always, effective, and the princkcum had few ways to escape from Elliot's body. But there were ways.

Marlie had to work fast, and she loved the race. She held her princk still for a moment in just the right location. Oh, it felt so good.

He tried to pull away and she could feel his noose-tightened throat squeeze her princk. "Damn, Elliot. Yes, that is soooo good."

And the sound. If you listened closely and knew what to expect, you could hear the heavily oxygen-rich princkcum begin to seep ... no, ... flow ... into Elliot's lungs. It was a sort of a low, low swooshing sound. "Whoosh, Swoosh."

Marlie was out of control. "Ahhhhhhh!" Her thrusts were less rhythmical and longer, deeper and more powerful, if that were possible. And Elliot's lungs were filling up. There was only one way out. Yes! As she hunched forward the princkcum began to ooze, then squirt, then rush out with each pistoning plunge ... and retract up into his nostrils with each withdrawing stroke.

Elliot was sill barely alive, with his lungs drawing what oxygen they could from her princkcum. And his eyes begged for pity, but she was not moved. Actually, she didn't even notice his eyes ... just the princkcum pulsing, flowing, gushing from his face. She liked to think of it as "cleansing him" of his maleness ... fully having her way with him, replacing his life force with hers, 'til death do they part.

Her realization of his final death shudders drove her into an orgasmic frenzy. "Ohhh! Ahhh! Ohhh, damn! Ahhh!"

A red tinge began to mingle with her princkcum as his blood-rich lung tissue collapsed in exhaustion, and she collapsed to the floor with a triumphant scream, crumpled in pleasure, panting heavily. As she rolled to her back, his head followed, with her princk still deep down his throat and his lifeless head, now helplessly pierced by her thick womanhood, bobbing like some bizarre oozing totem.

***

Leatherboy's throat was also engaged.

After catching her breath, Tabatha had slowly stepped back and removed her weapon ... pulling it leisurely from the young man's unwilling, but very accommodating, rectum. Now, with an easy grace, she stepped around the posts and the youth, ... and ignoring his pitiful begging sounds, pressed her penis to the entrance of his face ... and pushed her rectum-soiled princk in. Quickly, very quickly, a second orgasmic rush was upon her and the foul flavor of her cum thrust him, almost mercifully, into a swooning state of princkcum shock. As more and more of her juices pumped into him, he began to lose the ability to gulp quickly enough, to catch his breath or avoid gagging on her sexual discharges. Spots began to swirl before him, then a searing pain cut into him, then involuntary convulsions and then ... darkness. There is a final passage of energy from a male subordinate to his princkmistress. And it was not coincidence that as he perished, her head was thrown back in ecstasy and bright lights and stars exploded throughout out her writhing, celebrating body. It was a gift from him, although not freely given.

She actually had almost liked him ... as a house pet ... a princk-warmer. And if her personality was one of restraint he might have lived to serve her again. Instead, her princkcum surged into his face only once. And as she eventually pulled out, to begin with Marlie to clean up in the gymnasium, his head flopped back and to the side as coagulating princkfluids dribbled from his mouth and nose to the tile floor.

"Damn, that was good," said Tabatha as she staggered a bit in the aftermath of her sexual explosions. Damn good."

•••

As for Henry Dexter, he was about to speak to Claire Winslow in person.

_{The Sue Dexter Chronicles — End of Chapter Twelve}

ã 2003 MystyMason

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

Writer's Note: Have you been watching TV lately?

The Sue Dexter Chronicles — Chapter Thirteen

"Hello. This is Bill Midford with Claudia Ashton broadcasting live on location from Bourbonnais at the opening of the latest FemTech Field Office. "

"Claudia, because of the national publicity concerning FemTech's successful litigation over this Field Office, we're not surprised at the large and noisy demonstrations here this afternoon."

"Yes, Bill. The religious right and a number of statewide and national men's organizations really fought hard against the placement of this Field Office, but the Court had the final say and determined, somewhat reluctantly, that the Sexual Freedoms Act specifically permitted FemTech to open this office on the same block as a public school!"

"You're so right, Claudia. And despite the opposition of most of the people comprising this enormous crowd, we expect the ribbon cutting to go forward right on time at 3:05 P.M., five minutes from now.

"You know, Bill, there are small numbers of FemTech supporters here too. Off to our left, there's the established group called M ³ , the Modern Mothers Movement, as well as a number of radical female supremacy groups, as well."

"I'd have to say, Claudia, that the Sheriff's Department is doing a pretty good job protecting the small number of FemTech supporters from the mass of angry protesters. I expect that with emotions running as high as they are, people could get hurt."

"Well, Bill. As we have seen before, often it's the anti-FemTech protesters who wish they had been protected from the FemTech supporters and not the other way around. The FemTech women, "princkmistresses," I think they're called, typically work their way through the crowds and they seem to know how to take care of themselves and their supporters pretty well."

"Here comes the green and yellow FemTech van, Claudia. Let's see if we can recognize who's here for FemTech. The first out of the van is ... I believe ... Dr. Mary Beth Rouse. She's one of the FemTech national directors, and was quite a soccer star a few years ago, good enough to make the Olympic, national and professional teams. You know, Claudia, she almost looks feminine."

"Bill, I'm not sure I understand your comment. I think she looks very feminine, indeed."

Mary Beth Rouse, M.D., stepped out of the FemTech service van's passenger side sliding door and placed a long, shapely leg to the ground, pausing to let the photographers take their pictures for the evening's internet reports and next day's newspapers. She was in all ways very feminine, very feminine indeed, with beautiful features and a timeless grace. Her long raven hair blew in the afternoon breeze as she walked calmly toward the newly converted Field Office, and her short double-sided slit skirt exposed her stocking garters and the athletic form of her thighs as she took each confident step forward. Right along side of her was Kathy Beal, a strikingly attractive young woman who appeared to be about nineteen years old and doing her best to look as assured as Dr. Rouse, but was having trouble doing so because she had to hurry so much to match Dr. Rouse's quick pace.

"What I meant, Claudia, was that because of Dr. Rouse's gender abnormalities, I'm surprised that she can pass as a woman, at all."

The police had formed a phalanx of officers on each side of the sidewalk leading to the Field Office's front door. A Field Office ribbon cutting was always a simple affair: two FemTech representative walked to the new facility's ribbon, one FemTech Security Officer always stayed in the van, dozens of media representatives and police, and a varied number of demonstrators, sometimes dozens, hundreds and sometimes thousands. This Field Office was quite large, even larger than the neighboring elementary school, and the timing of the ribbon cutting would correspond with the school children being let out of their classes. FemTech loved children and wanted them to see how adults behaved around FemTech enhanced women.

"Bill, I hate to say this, but you sound a bit prudish. What you call "abnormalities" are simply improved versions of the skimpy genital portions men typically have."

The protesters were always emboldened by FemTech's considered lack of numbers, and today was no exception. As Mary Beth Rouse and her niece moved toward the ribbon a large muscular man in slacks and a tight short sleeve shirt stepped out between two officers and stood in Dr. Rouse's path. The crowd cheered as Dr. Rouse came to a stop and the man pressed his large left hand flat against her upper chest immediately above her well-defined breasts.

"Sorry to interrupt your perverted little lecture, Claudia, but I think this event is going to get quite interesting. Isn't that the Bears' rookie TE Greg Moriski standing in front of Dr. Rouse?"

Dr. Rouse raised her left hand and looked at her watch. She hated to have these ribbon cuttings delayed. Punctuality was important to her and she had appointments to keep later in the afternoon. She looked at the face of the large man standing in front of her (noticed his leering, unintelligent eyes), then at his thick shoulder and the large hairy arm spanning the distance from that shoulder to his meaty hand. He stood about six four and two hundred forty pounds, she estimated. The man played to the crowd, grinning in a goofy little-boy proud sort of way. "They're all just little boys," Rouse thought to herself. The police stood frozen by the rashness of the man's actions and were also a little put off by his size.

"Yes, it is, Claudia, it's Greg Moriski. Well, I guess this building might be one FemTech present that doesn't get its ribbon cut and opened after all."

"He shouldn't do that, Bill!"

Dr. Rouse tapped the man's left arm, got his attention, and then nodded towards her chest. "Remove your hand, and step away," she politely but firmly stated. The man simply leaned a little into her and laughed. "Why don't you do something about it, you little freak bitch! Get out of our part of the world!"

Dr. Rouse shrugged her shoulders and slowly, very slowly brought her hands towards the center of her chest where his hand rested with his palm upon the foothills of her creamy white breasts.

"What's the matter, Claudia?" Bill asked. "Do you really like those hybrid woman-things?"

"Bill, it's not a question of liking them or not. What Moriski's doing is against the law! It's illegal to interfere with the establishment of any institution, business or enterprise that supports or enables the expression of sexual freedom. But the police are doing nothing about it and it's not right. They should help her, Bill!"

As Dr. Rouse's hands approached her chest, she gently caressed the back of his hand and, for a moment, he lifted it an inch or two from her chest. And in the same quiet instant each of her hands snaked forward ... her right hand firmly clasped the pinky finger of his left hand and her left hand grasped the index finger of his left hand ... and instantly and viciously rotated both forward and to the side until clear audible snapping noises could be heard. Then, holding his hand to her breasts, she bent forward at the waist driving him down until his face, grimacing with the pain in his hand, was level with her waist. As she suspected, his right hand was placed flat on the sidewalk to balance him and keep him from going further down. But further down was what she had in mind for him. With a remarkable conservation of movement and energy, she stomped with the strength of a professional soccer player on the back of his right hand breaking three fingers in his right hand and many of the small bones in the back of that hand. She then released his left hand, grabbed the back of his head and yanked it towards her while at the same time arching back and driving her right knee into his face. The blood spurted from his nose as he staggered, still bent over, to his feet. She stepped back and kicked hard, very hard into his face again, straightening his upper body, and then just as hard into his groin. He tottered back balancing himself. Then, staggering forward, he was an open target and she lashed out with her muscular legs and kicked him in the groin again with her right leg ... then her left ... then right. He was totally dazed and fell to his knees. Her next kick went to his solar plexus and he simply gasped and fell forward with his face striking against the newly cured concrete sidewalk. Mary Beth bent forward and whispered to her niece and together they began to take off his shoes, then socks, then belt, and then pants. It had all happened so quickly.

"Bill. Bill. You're so quiet now. Well, ladies and gentlemen, as you can see, Dr. Rouse managed to defend herself from the assault attempted by one of the Bears' finest. Wow, look at that, will you!"

What Claudia was talking about was being broadcast live throughout the Midwest. Dr. Rouse had taken the ribbon cutting scissors and was using them to cut the man's underwear off. After she had completed that job, she cuffed his hands behind his back and using an expandable FemTech baton spread his legs and strapped his ankles to each end of the baton, causing his balls, penis and rectum to be fully exposed and vulnerable to whatever ministrations she had in mind. But his penis and balls, swollen, bruised, yellow and purple had gotten all the attention she planned on giving them for the moment.

"They should stop her," said Bill Midford.

"But, Bill. The Sexual Freedoms Act provides that the assault committed by Moriski may be responded to by the initial victim, even after the original danger has passed as long as the events, as a whole, are continuous, as they are in this instance. Dr. Rouse is in the right, and the police can't compound their initial failure to protect her by committing further wrongs against her, not while the world is watching."

By this time, the man had regained consciousness and began to look around and call for help, but none was forthcoming. Kathy Beal helped her aunt by attaching a stout collar around the man's thick neck. Then, a strong nylon strap was attached to his collar and the center of the baton began to be ratcheted, pulling his spread legs up toward his head as he lay on his back.

"Thank you," Kathy leaned in and whispered to the bound man. "You're going to make this ribbon cutting very special for all these little school children."

Greg looked around. The elementary school had let out and the block was crowded with children and their parents. Dr. Rouse unzipped her slit skirt and handed it to Kathy. Mary Beth wore modern princk panties that framed her magnificent organ in silky loveliness. She unstrapped herself from her thigh harness and her princk lengthened and stiffened. The man screamed and shrieked for help, but none was offered. Dr. Rouse's attention was focused on her captive and her princk was shimmering in the afternoon sun, slick with its lubricant ... and she began to bear down and in upon the trussed football player.

The thick head of her princk commenced to navigate its way past the man's hard muscular cheeks and up against the sphincter ring of his last ineffective defense. Dr. Rouse braced her feet and began her entering thrust. The feeling of her princkhead against his flexing, straining sphinctal muscles was ... well ... in light of the public nature of the event ... wildly erotic to her. As she felt his muscles enter their vibrating-fatigue stage she leaned hard upon him.

"Hup one, little man. Hup two. Yes! Hup, three. Ummm!"

The head of her monster organ began to breach his sphincter and slide and wedge itself deeper and deeper into his body and his mind. He screamed for help, screamed in shame, and screamed in abject pain, and his thrashing about increased her pleasure. Deeper still she punched her way into him, until her balls pressed against his ass and her clitoris pleasurably pressed against the rear of her testicle sack. And then she began her strokes, ... in and out ... in and out, ... until his rectum was spread and sore, princk precum squirting out of torn tissues, his buttocks raw with pain and his mind as split as his bottom. And then she saw it, ... that look in a man's eyes. It didn't always happen so quickly. The look of complete subservience, the way a man can be broken under a determined princkmistress' relentless ebullience. She loved it and it triggered an orgiastic fury that elevated her and tore him further until she moaned in ecstasy and finally withdrew her simmering weapon from his bleeding seat.

"Don't worry, sweetie," she whispered to him. "The princkcum will promote healing and believe me you'll be getting a lot of it ... princkcum, that is."

By this time, much of the crowd began to breakup and drift away, shaking their heads in shame. No one came near or touched Moriski except for some of the schoolgirls and princk fans as he lay on his side sobbing with his legs still cranked up towards his head. Claudia Ashton and her camerawoman approached Dr. Rouse and Kathy as they completed their walk to the Field Office's front door, cut the celebratory ribbon and shook each other's hands to the loud applause of those in the original crowd who were pro-FemTech.

"Dr. Rouse, Dr. Rouse. Please might I have a comment regarding this event? Were you surprised to have such a hostile greeting this afternoon?

"Hi, Claudia. I've followed your work. Thank you for providing coverage of our little effort in support of sexual freedom. As to your question, I find that men are jealous and (gesturing toward her still somewhat simmering and almost fully erect organ) afraid of us and ashamed of their own sexual inadequacies, and I'm not at all surprised that a man would attempt to hide himself from those feeling by aggressively acting out. Our little football player here has quite an interesting life ahead of him, and 'behind him' you might say, and I can assure you that we will put him to good and frequent use. Well, if you will excuse us please, Kathy and I are going to band him and then bring him into the Field Office as our first male resident"

Claudia turned to the camera as Dr. Rouse and her niece walked back to the moaning Greg Moriski. Behind Claudia, the viewers could see Kathy and her gesturing and talking to the schoolgirls about Greg Moriski and FemTech.

"This is Claudia Ashton concluding our live broadcast on location from Bourbonnais at the opening of the latest FemTech Field Office. As we saw just a few minutes ago, if Chicago Bears TE Greg Moriski's hands heal properly he may someday catch a pass again, if he's permitted to do so. But regardless of his football career, after observing Dr. Mary Beth Rouse having her way with him, I think that its going to be long, long time before anyone could call him a 'tight end.'" Claudia stared into the camera with a silly grin on her face.

"Did I really say that?" she asked her audience. She raised her eyebrows in that cute way she had of doing and said, "This is Claudia Ashton saying have a safe drive home, Chicago, and a great rest of today."

The Sue Dexter Chronicles — End of Chapter Thirteen (c) 2005

Don't be shy; write to me with your comments at mystymason172@hotmail.com

(Writer's note: You remember Angela and Mitch — Chapters Six and Seven? Mitch continues his training, and we get a close-up of the FemTech Comfort Stations. Happy reading. As always, your comments are most appreciated. Mysty at mystymason172@hotmail.com

Sue Dexter Chronicles —Chapter 14

Mitch knelt naked on the thick grey pile carpet of the vestibule facing the glass front door waiting for Angela Wilson to come home. His FemTech training had been so swift and effective that he barely remembered his pre-Angela life. And even though he was no longer bound at the wrists and elbows, at Angela's instruction he maintained his old posture with his hands and arms held firmly behind his back.

Life was strange. In spite of the cruel things Angela sometimes (frequently) did to him, he actually loved her ... although he didn't know exactly why. As he knelt with his head bowed, he couldn't help but look at his semi-stiff penis, now (he hoped, only temporarily) no longer functioning as a source of pleasure for him, but rather a source of a dull ache. The chastity device Angela had bestowed upon him was installed she had said, "to commemorate your giving yourself to me ... completely." There was no question that his surrender to her was unconditional.

***

When the attractive woman from M ³ (Modern Mothers Movement) first showed the device to Angela and Mitch last week, it appeared so innocent looking — a simple smooth steel tube with small openings at each end. Harriet Manciani, the M ³ technician, held the sample Lillith Model 14 Precluder on her left palm and the long slender enabling key in the fingers of her right hand.

"Watch how it works," Harriet said. Mitch and Angela watched as Harriet slid the key into the opening on one end of the Precluder as far as it would go. It simply looked like a gleaming steel tube suspended on a slender but sturdy key shaft. She then held the device with her left hand and gently turned the key clockwise and looked at Angela and Mitch for their responses. At first, they both simply shrugged their collective shoulders, and Angela wondered why anyone at FemTech would have recommended a M ³ product for something as important as male chastity.

"Look closely," said Harriet softly as she turned the magnetic key counterclockwise and clockwise, counterclockwise and clockwise ... . Small, short little prongs emerged from the surface of the Precluder and then retreated and disappeared with each turn of her wrist. A chill worked its unbidden way through Mitch's naked body and Angela nodded. "It's so clever. Does it really work?"

"Absolutely," said Harriet. "May I show you?" Angela nodded her authorization.

"But first," said Harriet, "I have a question to ask you," and she moved closer to whisper in Angela's ear. After a short discussion, with both of them looking at Mitch's penis and laughing, Harriet said, "Fine, let's get started."

Harriet rolled her chair closer to Mitch and gently began to stroke his penis with the tips of her fingers. "Mitch," Harriet said, "look up here, in my eyes, not at your worthless little male appendage."

It had been a long time since Mitch had anyone pay any attention to his sexual needs, and despite her contempt, her delicate touch and beautiful face almost caused him to swoon.

But before he was fully hard she suddenly stopped, pinched the head of his cock to control his ardor, made careful measurements of Mitch's manhood in a well practiced, almost clinical manner, then leaned back and patted him on his semi-stiff member and selected a Lillith Model 18 Precluder from her varied collection.

Mitch was then firmly bound and secured while Harriet rubbed some antiseptic lubricant onto the freshly selected gleaming long metal device and then inserted ... slowly but inexorably ... the Precluder deep into Mitch's penis with the long magnetic key extending from the end of his shaft.

Mitch gulped from the unwanted invasion. It felt strange, very uncomfortable ... a painful stretched sensation, and his anxiety of what would come next caused his breathing to come in short small breaths.

"Here. Feel where it is," said Harriet, fingering Mitch's penis with her fingers.

"Yes," said Angela, "I can feel it. You're right, it does makes his penis somewhat stiff, doesn't it."

"Well, Angela," snickered the M ³ representative, "It certainly does make it unbendable!"

Gently holding Mitch's now straight penis in her hand, she began to gently stroke it again, this time smiling and exchanging knowing glances with Angela. Although Mitch was in significant discomfort, Harriet's practiced fingers quickly caused his breathing to slow down and deepen and his penis to lengthen around the smooth surface of the lubricated tube despite its ominous presence. When his penis reached the desired length, Harriet and Angela nodded to each other and Harriet turned the key and let go, ... and unseen small effective prongs extended from the catheter and jabbed against Mitch's incredibly sensitive urethral inner surfaces.

Mitch gasped and jerked away from Harriet and the still connected protruding key, but fortunately for him, he was not able to move much and Harriet had knowingly let go of the key, thus sparing him severe internal penile damage.

"Don't punish him for trying to pull away, Angela. He can't help it. They all react that way. I understand that the initial pain is pretty terrible. And, if you want to duplicate this pain, all you have to do is put pressure on his penis."

He began to openly cry in earnest. Harriet carefully withdrew the smooth long, but dull-pointed key, and the device, the M ³ Lillith Precluder, with its prongs engaged, was securely set deep within his penis. Any attempt at a true erection was brutally uncomfortable, and if he or anyone grasped his penis, the pain would be quite excruciating.

"It will definitely keep him faithful," Harriet said to Angela said as Angela released him from his restraints.

"Removing it, if desired, is quite easy," instructed Harriet. "First a thick lubricant is pumped into the urethral opening and the key is carefully inserted. That plunges some of the lubricant deeper and then the key, fully in place, is turned, the prongs retract, and the key and the chastity device withdrawn as one unit. And that's how you remove it, although, I don't know why you'd ever want to," said Harriet cheerfully. "My sons have been wearing Precluders for over eighteen months now. They're much more attentive to my needs and there's never any stiff crumpled tissues under their beds in the morning, if you catch my drift."

As she rose to leave, she tapped Mitch playfully on his stiff penis. Mitch gasped in pain and grabbed his penis, shrieked and let go, then sobbed heavily with his chest heaving up and down with each of his hands tightly clutching his widely spread thighs.

"He'll learn," said Harriet, "they all do. Here are two keys. M ³ will always retain the serial number and we can get you replacement keys if you lose these."

•••

The three days Mitch spent at FemTech's Miller Street Field Office immediately after his little swim at the mountain pond were not good for him. After Angela Wilson and Barb Crayton dropped him off, he was banded, given the two standard piercings: perineum and nose, and then the extractions. All of his beautiful thirty-two pearly whites were traded in to provide safe, tight, easy-access for a princkmistress' shaft, specifically for Angela's. Forcibly losing his teeth was traumatic, both symbolically and painfully, and for a while after the dental uprooting Mitch staggered about, bound and stunned with the pain in his face a whirring blaze. When he saw himself in a mirror, he saw a harmless pathetic looking man and he had to struggle to maintain any sense of self. However, the worst, most depressing experience for him at the Field Office occurred on the Thursday morning before he was delivered, as scheduled, to Angela's home.

•••

He had been warned by the FemTech personnel what would happen to him if he tried to run away from his new home, or if Angela became angry with him or simply ceased to find him amusing. There was of course the threat of the Pens, which he didn't fully understand. But he soon understood the threat of the FemTech Public Comfort Stations.

"Come, Mitch. Follow me. Let's watch your potential future."

Mitch and Cynthia Ellington of FemTech entered a comfortable observation room adjacent to the Field Office Public Comfort Station Four. On the other side of the expansive two-way mirror were six toilet facilities, five in operating mode, but none currently in use. Cynthia walked over to a sidewall and flipped on the speaker system. Two FemTech Specialists, jokingly referred to by their friends as "The Plumbers," were busy installing a new "fixture." Mitch recognized the poor guy as one of Bay City's current councilmen, Herbert Farlow, a skinny, old, long-time resident of Bay City. It wasn't pretty what they were planning to do to him, and Herbert knew it.

The toilet system was well engineered. Each exposed bay had a waterproof latex-like cover on what resembled a heavily padded, sculpted massage table upon which the male would be affixed ... always face up. The hydraulically assisted table was carved out and adjustable to be comfortable for the user and survivable for the "fixture."

Herbert had just been led in and was thrashing about quite wildly for such an old man. Even though his arms were tied behind his back and his legs were tethered, he was difficult to restrain. Of the five other males already installed as toilets, one wanted to cheer him on, but knew better and remained silent, one was also quite old and was, well, out of it and near death, and the other three were "fried" test subjects — victims of FemTech's ongoing series of experiments on the design of an upgrade of a radio controlled discipline band. Although the test subjects were quite vegetative, certain basic bodily functions still operated effectively, such as reflexive sucking and swallowing to keep their air passages free of obstructions, moist, gooey, lumpy or otherwise.

But none of this concerned Herbert who simply knew that he did not want to be there and struggled, beyond hope, to be free again. Eventually, one of the plumbers, Brittany, looking a little bored and exasperated by Herbert's resistance, grabbed him by his shoulders, spun him around, looked him straight in the eyes and drove her right knee into his exposed low hanging testicles. She gave him a gentle push backwards, casually let go of him, turned, and bent down to continue to adjust the table to fit his dimensions. Behind her, Herbert crumbled to the hard tiled floor of the Comfort Station, wheezing and gasping for breath. He was in agony and his groin was on fire. And although he was in desperate circumstance he was also angry.

"Bitch," he whispered under his breath.

Brittany slowly stood up and bent over him. "Temper, temper, Herbie. Do you want me to be happy with you or mad at you when I make these final adjustments to your new residence?"

Herb looked away from her steely eyes.

"Do you want to possibly live through this next phase of your existence? You might, you know. Well?"

Herb had been through a lot recently. His fall from elective honor to total degradation was swift and hard, but he was a survivor. Maybe he could do this thing too, although not many males made it.

"Yes," he said barely audibly, "Yes."

"Then say you're sorry for calling me a bitch, Herbie baby."

The other Specialist, Fawn, began to laugh at Herbie's plight. She knew his chances to succeed, particularly because of his age, were really slim.

"I'm sorry, Miss. I'm sorry," he said sincerely.

"Oh, Herbie, that was really sweet," cooed Brittany. "I accept your apology. Now, I want no more resistance from you. Can you do that for me?"

"Yes," Herbie moaned.

"Oh, don't be so sad, Herbie. After we get you in this little contraption, you'll be meeting lots and lots of new friends. And maybe I'll come to visit you. Actually, the hell with maybe, I'll definitely come to visit you, and we can talk about old times. That would be real easy for you, wouldn't it, because you're so fucking old. " And both women exploded in laughter.

Brittany lowered the table down so it was almost on the floor and made some additional adjustments and modifications. The openings and tubes appeared to be in the correct position and functioning properly.

"Okay, upsy daisy, up you go."

Brittany and Kara lifted him onto the table; he was pretty light. The room and the table's design were based on function, comfort and ease of maintenance. Herbert's arms remained bound behind his back, but fitted into a recessed opening in the table. A simple broad, strong strap across his puny chest held him in place. Additional straps went around each thigh and ankle and around, loosely, his neck. His head rested on a rounded little nicely-padded sculpted cushioned shelf a little lower then the rest of the table, and all-in-all, if that was all there was, he would have been relatively quite well off.

"Okay, Herbie," said Kara. "Now we have to do the plumbing."

First, Kara opened a drawer beneath the table that contained a plethora of tubes and shiny instruments. She looked at the sheet of paper attached to the clipboard she had brought with her.

"Hmm. He's a RC-003," she said to Brittany. "I guess he's a bit of a tight-ass."

"Do him one size up for pissing me off," said Brittany.

"No problem," said Kara.

"But, ... but, I said I was sorry," protested Herbert.

"Herbie, honey. Do you want it two sizes up?"

"No," gulped Herbert.

"Good boy," said Brittany as she patted him gently on his head.

Kara reached into a wall drawer, and then selected and held the chosen Rectal Catheter in front of Herbert's face and let him take in its dimensions. Although it was relatively narrow at the insertion end, the hollow catheter-dildo expanded to an extremely uncomfortable width before it re-narrowed itself at the tube or "exhaust" end. Herbert was just stunned and silent, although you could see his bony chest begin to heave up and down in fear, slightly moving the thick strap across his chest.

Kara lifted the front part of the table and swung it up so that Herbert was almost upright facing the two-way mirror. Then she bent down behind him and lubricated the RecCath and began to inset it into his bottom, past his tighten cheeks and resisting sphinctal ring. After she got the narrow end of it in him, she forced and pushed the broad middle part up into him until the thickest part of the RecCath passed his sphinctal guards, and the balance of the catheter easily slid the rest of the way in by itself. Herbert groaned and tears began to fill the corners of his eyes. It looked extraordinarily painful.

Inside the comfort of the Observation Room, Mitch began to empathize with Herbert's agony and fear and contemplated his own future as well.

With the hollow RecCath in place, Kara attached a low vacuum exhaust tube to it and then turned her attention to begin work on the penile catheter. She lowered the table down to a horizontal position and then raised it to waist level. Kara reached over to Herbert and began to caress and then hold his penis in her left hand. "Hmm, nice hefty little tool for such an old guy," she said to Herbert. "You know how to use this thing?"

"Please, Miss, please let me go." They all say the same things, eventually, Kara thought to herself.

Kara chose an insertion catheter with her right hand, while she continued to play with his penis with the fingers of her other hand. Despite the pain in his anus, his prick began to come to life.

"Oh, look," Kara said to Brittany, "It's saluting a superior officer. But it's supposed to remove its hat," said Kara as she began to dig her sharp nails in under the head of Herbert's penis.

Herbert screamed as a trickle of blood rolled down his immediately softening penis.

"Oh, Herbert, you didn't really expect me to play with that old thing, did you? And besides that, you had an unauthorized erection in the presence of a FemTech employee. Some of my sisters would have you 'bobbed' for that offense."

Herbert bit his tongue and groaned.

"Okay, Herbert, here we go," said Kara as the lubricated catheter snaked it way up his penis all the long, long painful way to his bladder.

Herbert lay there in shock, with his mouth open and panting.

And that was it; the installation process was over. Herbert was installed.

Kara looked at her watch, recorded the time and date of installation, the sizes of the catheters, and then applied a little princkjuice from a tube she had in her pocket to Herbert's wounded cock. Within seconds the pain almost completely disappeared and Herbert relaxed a little.

"Hey, Herbert," Brittany said as she packed up to leave with Kara, "It's been real, sweetie. I am going to come to visit you in two days, really. Try to stay alive for me. Okay?"

"Please let me go. Please!" he cried out as they left the room.

Herbert looked up at the ceiling and his surroundings and felt a wave of fear, deathly fear, wash over him.

***

"Hey, old man," call Dan, the most conscious of his roommates. "Are you okay?"

"What's going to happen next?" asked Herbert. "How long have you been here?"

"Shit, I've been here maybe three, four days, just like Harvey next to me. But he's not going to make it. I bet he's dead by morning. I sure wish they'd fill this place up with young guys like me. But I glad you're here. Nobody wants to use the zapped-out zombies or this old fuck next to me, but they do when they had to go. Oops, excuse me. But the zombies and the old guys don't do too well. Shit, what am I saying? None of us guys do too well here," and Dan started crying.

•••

Within minutes, the public access door opened and four young girls came in whispering and giggling to each other.

"See. Told ya! Just like I said."

"Wow. Can we use them?"

"You betcha, we can. I told ya."

"Holy shit, this must be senior citizenship day or something. Look at this old bastard," shouted Maxine Wilson. But her girlfriend, Inez, was revisiting Dan while the other girls went to different available males. All the girls attended the nearby school, and like so many of the very young princkmistresses, they just wore the short black pleated skirts with no thigh princkharnesses. It was obvious from the way the front of their outfits began to stick out that they were looking forward to a little recess activity.

"Dan, Dan. It's me again. Inez." Dan bent his head down and toward her voice just in time to see her hand go the edge of his platform to lower it down to the height she wanted. Inez reached down, grabbed the hem of her skirt, lifted it, and stuffed it down into its gathered waistband, pinning it out of the way. Inez had opted for internal hormone units, so her princk was a sleek smooth shaft, without testicles, and her vaginal lips formed a delicious slick vertical opening immediately below and almost part of the base of her growing standard.

"Oh, Dan. I have to go soooo bad! Open wide!" Inez reach down and grabbed his ears and stepped forward so that her smooth creamy thighs were on each side of his face and then tilted her hips and forced the head ... just the head ... of her wonderful princk in his mouth. With a loud melodious satisfied sigh she relaxed her bladder and began to drain herself into Dan.

"Remember the rules, baby. Any spills and I get to do 'you know what.' And I know you don't want that. Or maybe you do," murmured Inez. While Inez was relieving herself in Dan's face, Maxine was taking care of a different urge with Herbert.

***

"Gramps, it says here that you were just installed. Has anyone done you yet?"

Herbert shook his head, and Maxine smiled broadly.

"Please," said Herbert. "This is a mistake, a terrible mistake. I shouldn't even be here. Don't do anything to me. Please."

Maxine released the clasp on her skirt and place it on a nearby shelf. She was extremely beautiful and bouncy, and her princk was pointing hard and straight at Herbert's head.

"It's no mistake, Gramps. FemTech just works in mysterious ways. Now ... just ... let ... me ... get ... your ... mouth ... open ... and ... in ... position. Yessss! Ahhh!"

Maxine had lowered Herbert's bench, tilted his head down and back and jammed her pulsing shaft into his mouth and down his throat. In one smooth transitioning movement her young hips began to thrust, withdraw, thrust ... . Her fingertips found the broad binding strap across his chest and she grabbed it for purchase and added the strength of her arms to her hips and legs to plunge deep in his vulnerable face.

Soon Maxine was gasping and straining forward on her toes, as if it might be possible to get her entire squirming body into him. It wasn't that this generation of girls was particularly cruel to men and boys. They were just young and impetuous and intoxicated with their freedom and dominant sexual power ... and, well, perhaps they were a wee bit mean, too.

Maxine liked older men, much older men ... particularly helpless, defenseless older men. And older men couldn't resist her either, particularly the ones who were strapped to a public comfort station bench or inhabited hospital or nursing home beds.

Fortunately for Herbert, the size of a princkmistress does matter, and her princkfluids, although incredibly voluminous for a young woman, were not quite enough to choke him to death on her own. But Maxine would not be the last one to use him ... not even the last one that hour.

"Come on, Maxine! Hurry up. I've got to go real bad!" complained latecomer Crystal. "The recess bell is gonna ring soon. Come on. Hurry up!"

Maxine look around at her baby sister. "Okay, okay, Chrys. Keep your legs crossed, will ya."

Maxine slowly ... slowly and regretfully ... pulled her shaft from Herbert's face, and both she and her sister watched as her princk seemed to resist pulling out of his gasping mouth. Maxine squealed a little as Herbert's gums gave her princkhead a good-bye squeeze, and long strings of thick gooey princkcum hung from the head of her throbbing princk down to his trembling lips.

"Me next, me next," said Crystal as she nudged Maxine out of her way and expertly lowered Herbert to the height of her slender hips. The sounds of gasps, cries and sighs filled the room as Crystal, eager to relieve her bladder, quickly thrust her princk into Herbert's waiting, tear- and cum-stained face.

This was always the good news and the bad news for the bound males who had just been used sexually. Being a receptacle for a woman's urine was, of course, degrading and unpleasant, but its liquid warmth did wonders in unclogging coagulating un-swallowed princkcum. Herbert coughed and sputtered some urine and cum up and out of his nose and began swallowing in earnest, catching glimpses of his beautiful young tormentress as she began to combine the urge to drain her bladder with another equally primitive urge.

"How could this be happening?" he thought, and he tried to shake Crystal loose by shaking his head back and forth. But to his chagrin, she actually liked his resistance and rewarded his efforts by exploding within him, then pulling back too far and spraying his face and chest with syrupy sticky princkcum, and then relocating and filling the moist hot refuge of his mouth and letting her organ happily pulse its fruit within him until she was fully satisfied.

A bell sounded faintly, and the girls pulled their princks free, cleaned themselves quickly with the available moist heated towels and left to go back to the local school.

"Maxine?" asked Crystal, "Why don't all the girls have princks?"

Maxine just shrugged her older-middle-sister shoulders and said, "I don't know. Maybe just more for us for now, huh?" 'Hey, betcha I can beat you back to school," said Crystal as they and the other girls ran laughing back to their classes.

***

Sue Dexter Chronicles —End of Chapter 14

(c) 2005 Don't forget to write — mystymason172@hotmail.com

Writer's note: Do you remember Angela and Mitch in Chapters Six and Seven? Let's continue to look in on their domestic relationship. Happy reading. As always, your comments are most appreciated. Mysty at mystymason172@hotmail.com

Sue Dexter Chronicles —Chapter 15

***

Mitch heard Angela's car pull into the driveway and then two doors open and shut. She had someone with her again. When the front door opened, Mitch kept his head down, as Angela liked him to do.

"Hi, Mitch," cooed Angela, you can look; I brought my baby-baby sister home to meet you. Say hello to Crystal."

Mitch's eyes locked on Crystal as he remembered the FemTech public comfort station images.

"Hey," said Crystal, with her hands on her little hips, "Do I know you or something?"

"Uh, no. Sorry, you reminded me of my own little sister."

"Oh, shit," he thought. That was a mistake.

"Hey, Mitcho," said Angela. You didn't tell me you had a sister. What's her name, address and phone number? We can have a reunion."

Reluctantly, but obediently, Mitch gave Angela the information. Mitch knew she would call Emma. It was Emma's asking their mom about princks that got his mom interested in the subject at all and had caused Mitch to decide to sneak out of their home in the first place. He just hoped that his mom and Emma hadn't kept their FemTech appointments, but there probably wasn't much chance of that — FemTech always followed up and they were very persuasive.

After Angela wrote down the information about Mitch's mother and sister, she moved close to Mitch and bent over and cupped his chin in her hand. "Hey, Mitcho, do you still love me?

Mitch looked up at his beautiful mistress and began to cry as he pulled down on the waistband of her skirt with his mouth and lips. She had allowed him to sexually entertain her and cause her to cum at least twice a day for the past few days, but she had not allowed him a feeding, simply spilling her cum on the carpet to be absorbed by the thick pile for him to clean during the day. He was, ... well, ... starving for her.

"He's been so emotional lately, Chrys. FemTech says it's the effect of the princkcum or lack of it, but I think he's just an emotional sort of guy. That's what I think."

Mitch had pulled the short skirt down to the carpeted floor and Angela stepped out of it, caught it with her right foot and tossed it out of the way. Mitch stared straight ahead at the princk strapped securely to her left thigh and began to attack the harness release tab with his lips and gums ... catching it ... and pulling back letting her princk hang free under a beautiful small neat rectangle of golden blond pubic hair.

Mitch began his daily welcome home ritual. "Maybe I'll get some this time," he thought.

Lowering himself further in front of Angela, he began to lick and suck the underside of Angela's princkhead. And then, as it began to rise and lengthen, his licking and kissing and sucking encompassed the entire underside of her slowing engorging princk. Then he would kiss its sides and the top of its head, and then tongue its base and suck her balls and any other part of her she offered to him.

Crystal watched intently as her oldest sister's princk stiffly rose and Mitch, on his knees with his head bent uncomfortably back, puckered his lips so that Angela's princk rested happily on the warm wet surface of his offered kiss.

Crystal stepped forward.

"Mmmmmm. Mmmm." Angela purred as her sister began to gently pet the length of Angela's rigid pulsing shaft. Angela looked down and smiled at her sister's intense interest in her princk.

"May I, Angela?" Crystal asked.

"Sure. It really feels good when you do it!"

Crystal continued to stroke her sister's princk, again gently at first, but then with a tighter grasp. Crystal's baby-smooth fingers were soft but strong and her strokes began to pull the extra princk skin up and down on Angela's beautiful princk, first bunching it up a little at its base and then at his head.

Angela reached over her head and pulled off her elastic top exposing her round dark areolas and erect nipples sitting upon her perfectly tanned full breasts. Mitch's point of view from below was earth shaking to him and he knew he would gladly spend the rest of his life worshiping her, if she let him.

Mitch moved his head around to take Angela's penis in his mouth; he wanted it. But Crystal kept moving, rubbing and squeezing it in a manner that kept it just ... barely ... out of his needy mouth. Then with one hand stroking ... stroking ... her sister's massive princk, Crystal began with the other hand to expertly massage and caress Angela's testicles, tenderly rolling them, lusciously rolling them around with the fingers of her sweet little hand. Carefully, erotically squeezing, releasing, squeezing them until Angela began to gasp.

"Oh, oh, shit. OH!" she began to moan. "Oh! Crissy! Don't. Oh, no. Stop! Oh, shit! Oh. Oh! Oh sweet mother, ... oh, ... I ... need ... to ... feed ... Mitch ... ."

And with that last conscious thought, and with Crystal directing exactly where Angela's princkjuices were to be dispensed, Angela's hose exploded with precum and cum all over Mitch's hair, forehead, eyes and nose, neck, and chest, with Crystal slapping Mitch's face with Angela's princk as its life sustaining sexual juices were wasted ... splattering on the carpet and Mitch body.

As Angela's orgasm receded, Crystal used her hands to carefully squeeze the remaining throbs of princkjuice out of her sister's princk to the floor. Mitch, still with his hands obediently clasped behind his back desperately tried to lick ... chew... strain ... the cum splattered carpet; but he really couldn't get much. Crystal saw to that. The loss of Angela's princkjuice was a real and practical problem and Crystal knew by his shaking that he was in trouble, and a knowing smile crossed her sweet young face.

As he guided his shaking lips towards a surviving large dollop of Angela's cum situated on the plastic cover of one of Crystal's nearby school books on the floor, his mission was interrupted by the toes of Crystal's young delicate foot cruelly stepping on his needed sustenance. As the thick cum oozed between Crystal's naked toes Mitch pushed his face forward to lick her the foul princk discharge, but Crystal roughly kicked his face away, hard, and then placed her foot on his forehead. With his hands still clasped behind his back, he bent his neck to look up and follow that small foot, slender ankle and masterfully chiseled muscular leg ... .

"May I feed him, Angela? He seems kind of, ... you know, ... hungry."

"Yeah, sure, Crys. Be my guest," yawned Angela as she moved to the couch to get comfortable, delighted to watch the baby of the family in action take care of her little baby, Mitch.

Crystal kept her foot on Mitch's head and pushed down until his face was pressed into the carpet.

"Mitch, are you hungry?" teased Crystal. "Answer me!" she demanded.

"Yes, ... yes," Mitch stammered. He was beginning to shake pretty badly by that time.

As part of any captive or volunteer male's stay at a field office, he is shown an informative short film depicting princkjuice deprivation. Suffice it to say, the film is not faked, the male does not survive, and the death is gruesome.

"Yes, please... yes," Mitch stuttered again as he shook.

"Okay, Mitch. Get on your back with your legs spread as far apart as you can, with your little excuse for a man fully exposed and your arms out to your sides like a cross. That's right, not behind your back. Now watch me as I get undressed."

Crystal was young, but the effects of having a princk are not lost on the "immature." The hormonal competition of the testosterone — and the other FemTech elements added by her internal hormonal units — and her natural estrogen had appreciably accelerated her feminine side and her body was a curious mix of child and dangerous woman.

As she slipped off her tented skirt, he could only admire the tightness of her lower body, its delicate but strong nature, her long unadorned princk and ... as it rose free of the skirt... the sweet bare multi-lips of her luscious and dripping vagina. She had been wearing no princkharness and when her skirt came off, her excitement of what had been and what would be was apparent. Although her penis was smaller than Angela's, no one would ever call it small, especially a man. She knelt at his head facing his feet so that her right knee rested gently upon his left biceps and her left knee rested upon his right biceps, and then she slowly unbuttoned her school blouse and exposed her gloriously sumptuous perfectly formed round, firm breasts; and she cupped them and sighed and then remembered her work.

"This will hurt, Mitch. Let it happen. I am going to cause you pain to ensure that you will offer no resistance. Do you understand? This pain and you helplessness is good for you. Do you understand? If you were able to resist me, I would leave without feeding you. Do you understand?" she asked in a singsong voice.

"Yes. I will let you do ... anything."

"Good boy, good boy," she said as she began to shift her muscled weight to each of her kneecaps as she bored into the pressure points of his biceps causing him immeasurable pain and temporary paralysis to his arms. He softly gasped at first. But eventually his self-control vanished and he wailed in pain. But it was too late for him to act. His arms were in fact unmoving, and his pain had so frightened him that his mind was paralyzed, as well. Had he acted sooner, he might have been able to throw her off; now, it was to late, much too late, as she hoped and planned it would be.

That pain, his pain and the grimaces that wracked his features began to cause her to shake, at first with fine tremors flowing up from her terrible punishing knees and then spreading to her irresistible princk and menacing vaginal nest.

Nature and FemTech joined to cover her steely princk with a slick, slightly almond-scented lubricant and Crystal, now breathing heavily was moving from a consciously cruel state to an unreflective animalistic one guided by pure (impure?) instinct.

Mitch was gasping in short breaths unable to breathe through the pain in his arms, which had now traversed every pathway in his body capable of manifesting pain. Without his knowing it, his screams of pain were elevating her sexual passions.

She crudely grasped his head and held it so that there would be absolutely no resistance to her directing her lubricated penis into the sheath that was Mitch's face.

"SLURP!"

Although Mitch was in terrible pain, he immediately began to suck greedily at his life's sole sustenance ... Crystal's princk. And suck and lick he did. He anticipated and encouraged her thrusts, raised his face to the extent able to prolong the deepest penetration, sucked and sucked to resist a withdrawal. And her princk responded with multiple explosions of copious sexual discharge ... foul sexual fluids ... shocking his system with a concentrated fetidness only young, very young princk mistresses can generate. So great was the repulsive potency of her emissions, that he was no longer conscious of the pain in his arms or of his life, itself. And for a short time, Crystal herself was flying through space, dancing with stars exploding into novas and galaxies spinning wildly in all directions. But that was then, and now she was back to her conscious self.

Little Crystal was not through. Shifting her hips slightly and leaning to her left, she stared down at him between her legs and around the thickness of her still steadily pulsing womanhood. She took a moment to admire her work. Like so many other males, her sexual fluids had stunned him and arms paralyzed or not, he was quite helpless. But she was not.

Now she would break up this little love nest between Mitch and her sister before it went too far. What Barbara had said to Crystal was right, Angela was getting soft on Mitch. Imagine, no FemTech arm and ankle bindings, leaving him home unfettered ... . Yes, it was clear, Mitch was in love with Angela, and Angela, if not "in love" was too affectionate with Mitch to Crystal's or Barbara's liking.

But all love must come to an end sooner or latter, and for Mitch and Angela, it would be sooner, very soon.

Crystal looked over to Angela on the couch. Angela's post-orgasmic eyes were heavily lidded and barely open. Crystal smiled to herself and thought about the special sister-to-sister relationship she would soon have with Angela, the one she had just started this afternoon.

And with that, Crystal, with the length of her princk deep within Mitch's gasping mouth, lowered her perfectly rounded buttocks so that her sopping wet vaginal lips gently and effectively slid around Mitch's fine straight nose. "Bye, bye, Mitch," she whispered as she shifted and sealed her smooth vaginal lips to his face. "Think of it as a final, final good bye kiss," she mused to herself. It wasn't the first time she had done this, and she liked it.

The pleasant blood-engorged interior of her vagina added by the goopy princkfluids that coated Mitch's handsome young face formed a secure airtight seal. With her princk still pulsing warm cum down his throat, and her vagina hermetically sealed about his nose, he could no longer breath and his life energies began slowly migrating from his face to her delicious young sexual organs.

Mitch began to moan and cry, sending low guttural humming vibrations through Crystal's body. And quite unannounced, a second orgasm, this one vaginal began to slowly build and then quickly cascade causing her to scream and buck, trying to drive her self down upon him with a youthful fury, rocking and rearing back to enhance each new rubbing thrust.

The glory was upon her and as she screamed in repeated ecstasy, she could barely feel Angela's powerful hands and arms gently lift her from Mitch's blue and puffy face.

"Hey, girl," Angela whispered. "Wow! You're a real wildcat."

Angela pulled Crystal's spent princk from Mitch's mouth, but left her to continue to grind her clitoris on the bridge of Mitch's nose. As secondary orgasms ripped through Crystal, Angela sighed a sigh of relief seeing Mitch's mouth successfully gasp for air at the base of Crystal's stiffening princk.

Eventually, Crystal descended to earth and Angela was honestly struck by her baby sister's sexual stamina, power and prowess.

"Good going, kid," said Angela. "Quite, impressive, but you almost killed the poor guy."

"Oops, sorry, Sis. I guess I got carried away. But at least he got his feeding." Crystal swiveled around on Mitch face, keeping her vagina over his nose and looked down at him. "You know, Sis, he's got nice eyes."

Mitch, blinking through coagulating vaginal- and princkjuices looked up at Crystal and saw her looking at him as a cat might look at a trapped baby mouse and he felt the vestige of a deathly cold shadow pass over him. Crystal winked knowingly down at him.

Still keeping her eyes locked upon Mitch's she said, "Hey, Angela. Can Maxine and I borrow Mitch for a weekend? You know, if you and Barbara want to take some days off we can housesit for you and watch your little boy-toy. Huh, Angela? What do you say? Can we, can we? We'll take real good care of him. Hmm? Can we?"

"Oh, we'll see, Crys. We'll see."

End of Sue Dexter Chronicles —Chapter 15

(c) 2005 Mysty Mason

It would probably be interesting to spend a few days with Claire’s mom. Hmm? But for now, let’s get beck to Sue Dexter.

Any comments?  Contact mysty at mystymason172@hotmail.com

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Sue Dexter Chronicles — Chapter 16

•••

By the time Hector Valez entered the Enhancement Pool Area 16, Sue Dexter’s princk and IHU’s (Internal Hormonal Units) were fully formed and operational. The pool was so comfortable, and the air was so thick with spirals of steams rising from the oxygen-enriched waters, that Sue didn’t even notice him approach her tank. She was also distracted by the pleasurable stirrings within her loins.

But all was proceeding according to FemTech’s plan. Moments earlier, Mona Rathton, Sue’s FemTech Enhancement Pool guide had called for Hector, and Hector, escorted from his PENS enclosure, bound by the wrists and elbows and wearing the typical ankle-bungee, was led to Sue ... for Sue ... for FemTech.

Hector at 57, despite a physically restricted life was, as most PENS inhabitant, in excellent good shape. Had it not been for his ruptured prostate, he would have served FemTech for many, many additional illness-free years. His body was well toned and very, very resilient and flexible, and his mind was ... well, acquiescent, both being the result of decades of princkcum and discipline.

When they reach the pool, Judith Reisler, the FemTech Security Officer spoke with Mona, while Sue Dexter stared at the bound, naked male ... naked except for two coarse, thick rubber straps, one around his upper chest just below his armpits, and one around his waist. Slowly, the head of Sue’s princk rose above the rippling shifting waters of the pool. It was bigger then she’d imaged ... and she was not disappointed.

Mona moved from behind Sue and tactically placed herself between Sue and Valez. Sue’s princk twitched (angrily?) and Sue leaned to her right so as to keep Hector in her sights.

“Let’s stake him,” Mona ordered. Judith guided Valez down the rubber-coated steps at the foot of the large pool until his feet were on its tiled floor. The tall Hector could see over Mona’s shoulder and could not help himself from feasting on the sight of the beautiful woman sitting at the other end of the pool, her marvelous full breasts glistening with the sheen of the pool’s water, and her chiseled features. Even her predatory visage was, in an animal way, intensely exciting.

Judith removed Valez’s ankle-bungee leg restraints and replaced then with thick rubber-coated cuffs, each fastened to separate heavy rubber straps. Then she snapped thick, tight rubber-covered cuffs on each wrist below FemTech’s Velcro bindings, and then placed her hands on his shoulders and pressed down. As he was trained to do, he immediately dropped to his knees with the water lapping the middle of his chest. The Velcro bindings were then released and each arm was then loosely tethered by rubber straps to rings secured to the sides of the pool.

Mona then stepped back and Judith prompted him forward with a light push. Valez began to “walk” on his knees toward Sue Dexter, whose princk had risen yet higher above the pool’s surface like an ancient sea creature looking for mariners to devourer.

As he scuffled forward, the bottom of the pool slowly dropped away until it leveled off with the warm mesmerizing water rippling at his mouth.

“Relax. Let this be easy for once,” Judith said softly to Hector. “Let all the years go. Listen to me, Hector. Let me guide you. I’m going to lift your legs up and fasten them to the walls of the pool. Try not to panic. You’ll see, they will hold you up.”

With the slack taken up in the arm straps by Mona, Judith took her time and, at first, without pulling Hector’s legs at all, threaded the leg straps through the pool’s designated “D” rings at water level height at opposite sides of the pool. Then, with the strength of a conditioned princkmistress Security Officer, Judith began to pull the leg straps together until Hector’s legs began to pull apart ... then rise to the surface ... then spread apart until he floated on the surface fully spread-eagled for ... Sue’s use.

Hector in his panic and flailing had swallowed some of the oxygen- and microsliver-enrich water. But with Judith’s calming assurances, and as soon as he realized that the straps were holding him up and that he wouldn’t drown, he immediately relaxed into his initial calm state ... for a moment. For right in front of him, like the proud bow of a ship, was Sue Dexter’s new toy ... or maybe, he was her new toy. Did it matter?

The head of her penis was above his face and he couldn’t take his eyes off of it as it began to cut through the short distance separating itself from him.

“Sue, Sue,” said Mona, “Quick, we need a small sample of your precum.” Sue was barely present as Mona ran her smooth right hand from the underwater base of Sue’s princk to just beneath its head to encourage and guide the first pumping of Sue’s precum into a small stainless steel FemTech princkfluid storage device.

“Thanks, baby,” Mona praised Sue. “That was real good, just fine, just the right amount.”

Then Mona swiveled and returned the canister to Erica. “Have fun,” giggled Mona.

“You know I will,” said Olmsted, and Mona and Judith watched their immediate supervisor leave the Enhancement Pool area with her little package in her very capable hands.

By that time, Sue had advanced further from her place of repose to stalk the floating and moored Hector.

“Go ahead, Sue, urged Mona. Yes, Sue, do it.”

But Sue didn’t need any encouragement. She didn’t even hear it. All she saw was Hector gaping mouth and straining neck, trying to keep from taking in the water splashing around his surface-height-head. But it was going to be a lot more than water going into his mouth.

Sue’s princk was soooo ready, and the juices in her Internal Hormonal Units were churning, flowing, and oh-so-hot. As she approached his face her hips were already hunching back and forth. Sue grabbed his lower jaw with her hands and pulled herself forward with the strength of her arms ... her hips glided forward and the fat head of her penis pressed against his gasping lips.

“Ahhhh,” moaned Sue, and she switched her grip from his slippery jaw to his perpendicular arms and then to the heavy rubber strap that circled his upper chest. With her strong fingers wrapped around that firm grip, she pried her way past his gums (he knew better then to ever, ever try to close his mouth to a princkmistress) and sank herself deep into his face, totally unconcerned with his comfort or life. Judith and Mona both nodded. Sue Dexter was a natural predator; there was no question about that. It wasn’t just lust. There was something else ... something cruel.

Hector’s natural survival instincts and the physical benefits of decades of having women plunge their stiff organs into his face had not abandoned him. Although he was terrified, he knew how to breathe between strokes, and he braced himself for the incredibly bitter taste of her effluence. But ... it ... wasn’t foul, at all! Her precum was sweet, delicious, life affirming and he suck and swallowed and thrust his face deeply upon her invading shaft. He could feel the ridges along the length of her penis and the slick smooth skin that slid along her womanhood below the breadth of her bulbous princkhead. Oh, this was so different; he never experienced such a taste and elixir, and he encouraged as much contact as he could between his toothless face and the thick firm knob of her penis. He drew and sucked as much of her precum into him as he could ... but ... then ... as her princk continued to thrust itself in and out, encouraged by his hungry sucking, his face began to feel an exaggerated numbness, then his neck ... and chest, back and arms, ... legs and feet. He could barely feel the cuffs on his ankles and wrists, or the thick female appendage in his mouth, but he could see her pumping herself into him ... her taut belly moving back, then rushing forward, then back, ... then grinding from side to side.

Sue had shifted her grasp to the heavy rubber strap around his waist and was trying to burrow herself completely within his mouth and come out the other end. She couldn’t believe the feeling of eruptive power, how good it felt. And she didn’t recognize the grunts and animal guttural sounds as her own, but they were.

But her sweet virginal, one-time-only precum has ceased being produced and now it was her princkcum that was pumping hard ... and its taste was not pleasant, and that was one sense he still maintained.

Then there was a flash point for Sue, a blinding genital explosion that she could never had estimated or expected, ... and it went on for soooo long ... and diminished, ... and rose again, ... and again, until she rested her upper body upon Valez’s back, her breasts slick with water and princkfluids pressing and slippery upon him.

Mona let Sue come down naturally from her sexual high and then began to slowly separate her from Hector. “Come, Sue. There’s more. This one’s done.”

“More? Now?” asked Sue.

“Oh, yes, Sue,” Mona nodded. “Much more. Follow me.”

Sue placed her hands on Hector’s shoulders and pushed herself upright, as if from a feasting table. Oh, yes. Hector’s mouth was still hot, and his gums gripped her princk head tightly.

“It’s a little bonus, Sue. Just pull out, and follow Mona,” Judith said.

Sue pushed with her arms again, this time breaking his lovely grip. And the pleasure Sue experienced in that moment, as his gums involuntarily tightly caressed her exiting princk, caused a shudder to rip through her and a sigh escape her beautiful lips.

“Mona. More? Right now?”

Mona simply nodded again, and beckoned her to follow. Exiting the pool, both Mona and Sue quickly took warm showers, donned thick bathrobes and then Mona walked Sue out into the hall down to a bank of elevators. There were other new princkmistresses there that Sue remembered from the lectures, and the women all giggled or moaned and exchanged lovely and earnestly felt pleasantries, born out of the warm comradeship they each felt with each other.

•••

As Mona and Sue left the pool, Judith had one more small but important function to perform. Hector was about to get his reward. Judith stood behind Hector, between his helplessly spread legs and began to rub his smooth hairless, almost feminine ass cheeks. There was one more invasion Hector would have to endure. Judith was not small, but Hector could take almost anything at this point. And of course, he had no choice.

Judith’s princk was fully engorged as she reached forward and grabbed the rubber strap around Hector’s waist. It was always amazing to her that the longer a male was in the PENS, the tighter his anus became. It was like a miracle, she mused as she jammed her princk between his cheeks and then into his hot rectal tunnel. With her left hand she reached forward and grabbed the thick rubber strap above his upper chest, and with her right hand, snaked around him and began to lovingly stroke and pump his penis, gradually reawakening in him, in his suspended state, the remembrance of ejaculations ... male ejaculations, ... specifically, ... his ejaculations. And he began to rock into her skilled hand, and she pressed his back with her breasts, and her princkhead played upon and stimulated his damaged prostate, and his sexual past-life began to reemerge in his body’s memories, and his sexual organs long clogged began to loosen and expand because of the special effect of Sue’s virgin precum and Judith’s ministrations, and Hector’s hips began to thrust to meet Judith’s increasingly frantic lunges. And as an orgasm crashed though Judith’s strong young body, and a princkmistresses’ sexual fluids began their invasion of him for the last time, he felt his own body explode with an inner release that coursed though him from his toes and to his finger tips, and a small, but oh-so-meaningful sexual discharge oozed from his penis and he shook and trembled in the way that long-time PENS males will do if they’re lucky enough to reach that final release.

Judith loved this part of her work. Hector floated face down in the pool, with the sexual tremors still racing throughout his body. She pulled her princkhead out from his tight, tight sphincter and slowly, languidly walked up the stairs at the foot of the pool. Hector’s face was still in the swirling water, but she could clearly see him continue to breathe the incredibly oxygen-rich mixture. She walked around, sat on the edge of the pool, and continued to stoke her massive and satisfied organ, arching the remainder of its pleasurable discharge into the pool. As always, the microslivers, triggered even by the small amount of the male’s sexual emission into the pool began their last activity for the night. She watched them pulsing up from the bottom, from all over, swirling about and moving past her and towards Mr. Valez. She could see him breathe them in ... and out ... and in ... as they invaded him in the most gross and subtle ways imaginable. Within a few hours, Hector would be a memory and the microslivers would be fully fed and ready for another day’s work helping women reach their potential. It all made perfect sense to Judith. Yes. She really liked her job, every last aspect of it.

•••

As the large elevator rose, women in two’s and three’s excitedly exited at various floors.

Mona, Sue, and two other women exited the elevator on the sixteenth floor and began to walk down the hall past doorways opening into vast rooms of cages, filled with ... men? Well on this floor, the sixteenth floor, ... no, not quite men. Younger.

“These are all about Robert’s age, Sue,” said Mona. “It’s a bit between feedings, but we always make exceptions for new princkmistresses. We would like you to experience a male or two about Robert’s age. After all, you did say in your interviews that you would like to keep Robert alive for your use and enjoyment. Some small amount of restraint by you, for example, a few well placed FemTech silicone ‘spacers’ until Robert gains the resiliency and survival tactics of an experienced princk receptacle can help keep him alive for you. We can help him and you by letting you practice with some of these specimens,” and Mona waved her hand toward the banks of small cages.

“Now?” asked Sue, her rising princk separating the folds of her heavy bathrobe.

Mona signaled to the station attendant by holding two fingers in the air and then pointing to a cage containing a frightened relative newcomer to the PENS. The marionette tethers and bars began to move and slide in their smooth silent manner and almost immediately, by the time Sue and Mona reached his ... umm, home, ... his mouth, on one end of the cage and his rectum at the other, were both firmly pressed in opposite directions against the cushioned bars of his enclosure. Mona stepped forward and adjusted the height of the little cage to accommodate their sexual interests, while Sue’s eyes grew wide with enthusiasm.

Sue looked at Mona. “Now?”

Mona moved her shoulders and her robe fell to the floor exposing her breasts and stiffened princk.

“Yes, Sue.” Mona smiled, breathing a bit heavily.  “Now,” whispered Mona as she stepped to the rear of the youth’s pen.

© 2005 MystyMason

Author's note: Sue Dexter's transformation is beginning, and so are the lives of the males closest to her. Don't you wish you were there?

 Don't be shy. Please write and share your thoughts, ideas, rants and ravings.

 Mysty at mystymason172@hotmail.com.

Sue Dexter Chronicles — Chapter 17

•••

At the local FemTech Field Office, Sue had already entered the tranquil environment of the lagoon-like Enhancement Pools and was in the process of receiving a massage and advice from Mona Rathton, her lovely FemTech guide. Within the pool, the erotic stimulation of pulsing streams of warm water caressed Sue's body. Slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, FemTech's Gynophallic™ plasma technology began to form the desired appendage — new to her, but perfected and commonly familiar to FemTech.

Gradually, leisurely, her princk began to take form and shape and lengthen, and if she took her glance away from her pelvis and then looked back, she might see its gradually growing outline below the rippling water. She could begin to feel the hint of a pleasant weight between her legs, a force ... perhaps? At the same time there seemed to be a blossoming sense of internal urgency of a nature previously unknown to her, except in her imaginings.

On an oh-so-subtle level the pool's programmed microslivers had initiated their migration within Sue to their programmed venues to form her Internal Hormonal Units (“IHU” or “Gynads™”). These units would almost mature and be fully developed before Sue would leave the pool, and would rapturously compel her to what many considered a radical (but frighteningly more common) expression of an aggressive new womanhood. To FemTech, it was simply acknowledging a new feminine force of nature.

Later, quite soon, Sue Dexter would be brought a subject ... a sacrificial lamb ... upon whom to test her new sexual equipment. The guinea pig, randomly chosen, would be Hector Valez, age 57. Hector came to the United States with his parents when he was five years old, excelled in academics and sports, graduated high school near the top of his class, graduated from an Ivy League college, became an investment banker in Connecticut, married into old money, had two children and then, at age 29, cheated on his beautiful wife while on a business trip in California. The woman he picked up in his high-end Los Angeles hotel lobby was Maryjane Offerton, unfortunately for him — a princkmistress. After Hector was banded, Mrs. Valez was notified of her husband's indiscretions and Hector spent the next six months amusing both his wife and Ms. Offerton. After his financial assets were effectively transferred to his wife, he was transferred to a local PENS for purposes of prostate and seminal vesicle fluid production and general recreational use.

Recently, his weary prostate ruptured for the second time. The approximately 28 years of stimulated continuous overproduction had taken its toll and his prostate, although now “healed,” was no longer up to production standards and he was scheduled for his last service to FemTech, his “retirement” ceremony, you might say.

•••

A virgin princkmistress' first sexual encounter is invariably difficult for males, ... very difficult. Her glistening penile lubricant carries its usual slightly bitter almond-like taste, but her seminal precum is suprisingly sweet and not yet fully matured into its repulsive flavor. That unexpected sweetness encourages a male to suck voraciously at its source (if the encounter is oral). However, it is virgin princk cum, either ingested orally or administered rectally that causes the male his ultimate distress. Its effect is to not immediately terminate — but rather quickly suspend — a male's non-vital physical life functions and retard and slowly degrade the others, although the mental functions remain alert until the end. The composition of virgin princkcum is simply too concentrated to be tolerated by a male. The results are ... predictable.

•••

Meanwhile, back in Sue's bedroom ... as Claire withdrew her stockinged foot from Henry's rapidly deflating penis ...

“Dad!” Robert cried out. “How could you let them do that to you?”

“I ... I ... it felt too good. I couldn't help it.”

“No! No, dad! I mean how could you let them catch you? You're a grown-up. Oh, dad. What are we going to do?”

Robert turned toward Claire (to the extent that he could move his head) and pleaded, “Claire, Claire. I'm sorry about what I said to you. Please let me go. Please! Please!” Tears were streaming down Robert's face.

“Shut up, you little sissy,” yelled Henry. “Damn, what a baby.”

“You'll see, dad. You'll see! They do things to you. You won't like it. It's going to hurt. Oh, please Claire! Let me go!”

By this time, Robert was sobbing heavily and his breath came in little jerks.

“Robert. I can't let you go; your mom wants to keep you. Otherwise, though, I would take you home with me. Hmm, I would tether you by your little balls to a steel ring bolted in the floor of my basement. My friends and I would definitely have lots of fun with you. Hmm,” Claire thought out loud, “Maybe Sue will let him come visit with me.”

Claire looked at Robert, “Either way, honey, you're never going to be ‘let go,' if you know what I mean.”

“Oh, Claire,” Robert sobbed.

Henry looked a little pensive. “Um, like what, Robert? What do they do to you?”

“Well, they ...,” Robert began to answer, but Claire interjected herself.

“We do many little things ... like penile piercings without anesthetic. How does that sound, Mr. Dexter? Robert's about to get one now. Would you like to watch?”

“Please, Claire. Please don't,” Robert softly begged.

“Better yet, I'll make a deal with you, Mr. Dexter, and you can show Robert what a good father and brave man you are. Hmm ... maybe make up for some of those years of failing to keep in touch, so to speak. Here's what I'll do. I will use anesthetic for his penile piercings if you volunteer to let me give you the same piercings without the anesthetic. In other words, if you agree to bear his pain, his piercings will be painless. How about that?

“Oh, yes, dad! Please. Oh, that would be wonderful. Please, dad, please. Will you?”

Henry Dexter turned his head and frowned.

“I'm told that it's really not so bad, Mr. Dexter. Just two small holes: one in the base of your penis and one right through its little, teensy-weensy underdeveloped head. And then we insert the titanium rings through the little holes to give you, you know, the opportunity for guidance and direction in your life. How does that sound, Mr. Dexter? Are you, um ... up for that?”

“You're both crazy! I'm not going to volunteer for anything.”

“Dad. Please, dad. Please do it for me.”

“Damn, Robert. You really are a whinny little bastard, aren't you?”

Claire shrugged her shoulders. “Oh, well. We gave you a chance to be a man. But your cowardice is just too prominent a part of your personality, I guess.”

“Shit,” said Henry Dexter. “If you were asked to make that sacrifice, would you?”

“For someone I loved, yes. Of course,” said Claire.

Henry just lowered his face and looked away.

•••

•••

Meanwhile ...

“Hello, Abby. *** Yes, this is Erica Olmsted from FemTech returning your call. *** Believe me, it's no problem at all. *** I spoke to Dr. Ettleston and she will be ready to assist you with your son tonight, but the time frame is very, very short. *** That's silly. No, he's definitely not too young. I mean, he's a male, isn't he? (Laughter) *** He is? That's really sweet. I know you're really going to like what's going to happen. *** No, it's not traceable and it only takes a very small amount. *** No. He won't resist at all; you'll see. *** Oh, I think you'll notice a reaction, even if it's not immediately apparent. *** I bet you do, and we're here to help you and other women realize that goal. *** You're so welcome *** Okay, set your phone to vibrate so he doesn't hear it and I call you soon. *** Bye bye.”

•••

© 2005 MystyMason

Sue Dexter Chronicles — Chapter 15

“It's not traceable?” What did Erica mean by that? And who's Abby? Oh, well. Back to Sue Dexter's mansion.

Any comments? Contact mysty at mystymason172@hotmail.com

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Sue Dexter Chronicles — Chapter 15

•••

“Okay, Brenda ... Annie, I need you both to stay and help me with the elder Dexter. You know, the banding, full dental extraction, ... with decreasing anesthetic because of his refusal to help this little guy (pointing to Robert), the perineum and olfactory piercings ... and then the penile piercings, same as Robert's — no anesthetic. As soon as you're done, you two can hit the road and go to Samantha's; the party will still be going when you get there.”

“Alright,” said Brenda and then turned toward Henry ... “It's party time, Mr. Dexter. First here, and then at Samantha's!”

“Oh, yeah. One other thing,” said Claire. “Before you get the equipment from the van and get started, give the old man an enema and a 180° rotation. I'd like to give him a little prostate examination and see what he's really got.”

“No problem,” said Annie. “You know I'd do anything for you, Claire. And if you ever want to have a little party tonight, right here with me, let me know.”

“Hey,” said Brenda. “I saw her first.” And they all laughed.

•••

By the time Annie came back with the small case of shiny stainless steel instruments, Brenda had already moved Henry Dexter to Sue's private shower room off the master bedroom.

“Here you go, Mr. Dexter,” said Annie. “First the enema, then Claire's inspection, and then we'll really get down to work.”

“This shower room is perfect!” Annie said aloud. “It'll be real easy to clean up the splatter.”

Henry's eyes widened a bit. “Ah, ah ... you're really not going to hurt me, are you?” Henry asked with some apprehension.

“Well, Mr. Dexter. You know what they say: ‘The anticipation is always worse than the reality.' Although in this instance it's probably not true.”

While Annie and Brenda were preparing Henry, Claire was preparing Robert for his two remaining piercings.

***

“Okay, Robert, it goes like this. Step one, I'll insert this surgical rubber catheter.”

“Oh, God!” Robert blurted out.

“Hush, Honey. It'll hardly hurt and I'll lubricate it,” she said sticking it into her open mouth and sliding it against the tip of her slightly extended tongue. Robert almost stopped breathing.

“Robert, you're so attentive. That's a really nice quality in a male,” and she kissed him on his sweating forehead.

“But let's get back to business. Your mom will be here sooner than you think.”

Robert's mind began to tread water.

“The catheter will serve two purposes,” Claire said. “First, it'll keep you from peeing all over the place when the pain from the piercing hits, and second, it will let me know where your urethra is so I don't pierce it by mistake. We don't want you peeing out the sides of your little penis, now do we?” Claire playfully asked.

***

Brenda, who could hear Claire with Robert, leaned over to Annie and whispered, “Jeez, Claire really enjoys her work. How'd she get to be such a hot little bitch at such a young age?”

“Well, I know her mother had her father and brothers banded when she was really young, and she just grew up expecting males to ... you know ... be her slaves. Seems pretty natural to me,” laughed Annie.

***

“Step two,” Claire said, “we'll take these two little plates of tempered glass with all the round holes in them, slip your penis between the plates, tighten the wingnuts and presto, pressed penis under glass.”

Robert's eyes grew wide as he looked at the equipment.

“Don't worry, Robert. I'm quite good at this. You know ... practice, practice, practice.”

•••

Brenda and Annie were good at their work, too ... even if they enjoyed it a bit too much. After Henry's intestinal tract was fully purged by the ridiculously massive enema application executed by his playful team of FemTech Security Officers, Brenda and Annie took a break to step back enjoy the moment. Henry was firmly ensconced in the binding rack, panting heavily with his mouth wide open.

“I don't know what you're panting about, Mr. Dexter, it was Brenda and I who did all the work.”

Henry was beginning to believe that he might be in a bit of trouble.

“Claire,” Brenda called, “Mr. Dexter is all done and squeaky clean.”

“Thanks, I'll be right there,” sang Claire.

***

But Claire was still working with Robert, and Henry would just have to wait his turn.

Claire knelt down, placed a glob of lubricant from an aqua blue squeeze tube along the length of the catheter, and then ran the catheter back and forth through her fingertips. Then, with her left hand grasping his little penis, she skillfully began to snake the long rubber tube deep within him.

“Oh, no. Please, Claire, please.”

“Relax, Robert, relax. This is the good part.”

But Robert continued to cry and beg her. “Please, Claire, it's too thick. It really hurts. Oh, ooh, augh!”

“There,” said Claire. “That part is done. Now these little glass plates.”

With deftness born of experience, Robert's penis was slipped between the plates, his penis turned and aligned to the correct position, and the stainless steel wingnuts carefully and equally tightened. His penis was, ... well ... firmly flattened between the glass plates, and there wasn't much to it ... in more ways than one.

“Okay, Robert. You just stay here; I'll be right back.”

“No, Claire, please don't go. It hurts so much.”

“Actually, Robert. I'm doing you a favor. These plates will squeeze your little penis until it's practically numb and the piercings will hardly hurt at all. Uhm, until the plates are removed and the blood flows back, anyway.” Claire sweetly smiled down at him.

“Oh, God, Claire. This really hurts!”

“Oh, well. Would you like me to drive the piercing needles through you right now?”

“No, no ... n ... n ... no. Wait. Shit, please wait.”

“No problem, Robert.”

•••

By the time Claire entered Sue Dexter's private shower room, Annie and Brenda had flipped Henry upside down in the binding rack.

Claire walked around him surveying what there was to a “Henry Dexter.”

“No matter who they once were, no matter how rich or powerful, when they're in the rack, they're not too impressive, are they?” said Claire.

“Actually,” said Brenda, “this one wasn't too impressive before we put him in there.”

Brenda and Annie had extended the legs of the rack to permit its occupant to be rotated and suspended at any position, and Claire began to raise Henry's head so that he could see her face as she bent over and spoke.

“How are you doing down there, Mr. Dexter.” Henry looked up towards the voice, with his head by Claire's beautiful legs. The fact that he could see her long legs, stocking tops, garters, microscopic underwear and, when she bent over, her cleavage, was not entirely lost on him. And, as with the son, poor Henry's eyes darted from her face to her breasts to her legs and back and forth, quite involuntarily.

Claire lowered his head down again so that she had full and easy access to hs bottom, and then knelt down to talk softly to him. She reached into a small leather pouch and removed a pair of thick, skintight latex gloves.

“Henry, I'm going to conduct a medico-technical examination of you, and I'm using these thicker-that-usual latex gloves in an attempt to protect you from my nails possibly perforating your intestines.”

Claire held her fingers in front of Henry's face; her nails were very long and sharp.

“It would be best for you not to resist me in any way ... especially ... no clenching. It is very possible for me to have an unfortunate accident with you during the probing. Do you understand?”

Brenda and Annie smirked to each other — of course, Claire was asking the impossible.

Claire slowly donned the gloves and began to rub the same greasy lubricant on them that she had used on Robert's catheter. Henry's eyes were glued to her hands. She then stood up and with her left hand gently grasped Henry's penis. Dexter let out an audible soft yelp.

Then, very delicately, all the time looking at Brenda and Annie, she began to rub and massage the outer edges of Dexter's anus with the middle finger of her right hand ... and then its entranceway, ever so exquisitely giving it a little downward pressure.

“Mr. Dexter,” Claire purred, “This is becoming quite intimate for me. May I call you, ‘Henry'? ‘Mr. Dexter' sounds much too formal for this stage of our relationship.”

Claire increased the inward pressure of her slippery middle finger very slightly and began a slight rotating action on the outer portion of his sphincter muscles.

“Uh, uh.” Henry puffed.

“May I, Mr. Dexter. May I call you ‘Henry'?”

“I ... I ... yes, yes,” squeaked Dexter.

“Oh, that's good, Henry, very good. Thank you. Yes, that's sounds much more natural and collegial.”

“One other thing, Henry. Do you apologize for all those nasty things you said to me on the phone earlier tonight?” Claire increased the downward pressure on his bottom.

“Yes, yes.” Henry blurted out.

“And for all the name-calling you did?” (Slightly more pressure ... .)

“Yes, yes, I do.”

“Say you're sorry, Henry.” Claire rotated her finger in a slow downward spiral.

“Remember, my fingernails are very, very sharp. It's a matter of pride, with me, Henry. You know all about pride, don't you?'

“Um, um.”

“Apologize, Henry!” (Slight stabbing motion ...)

“I apologize! I'm sorry. Please, I'm sorry!” Henry was panting wildly.

“Thank you, Henry,” Claire said, slightly relenting with her finger. “I'm so glad that's out of the way. I certainly wouldn't want to be doing this to you and being angry at you at the same time.” Brenda and Annie clasped their hands over their mouths to keep themselves from laughing out loud.

“FemTech, Henry, is always concerned about the health of its wards, and right now, because of the insignificant nature of your previous ejaculate, I'm a bit worried about you. I mean, it's quite possible that your discharge was so small because you're constantly draining yourself. Well, we will find out. And Henry, about further masturbation — you're not going to be allowed to do that any more unless we direct you to do so. Isn't that nice to not have to worry about that little distraction anymore?

“Please, Claire. Please ... be ... careful.” Henry began to gasp in short little breaths.

“We'll see, Henry. We'll see.”

Claire's slender strong middle finger snaked its way past Henry's resisting sphincter muscles.

“Henry! What did I say about no clenching? Well? Well?!”

“I'm trying. Oh, God, please don't hurt me, Claire.”

Claire gave him a little jab against his intestinal wall.

“Oh God! No. Please!” Henry's voice was rising higher.

“Henry. You promised to cooperate. Now do it! Let's see. Just pretend it's your own finger up your tight little asshole. That's probably not too difficult for you to imagine, is it?”

Henry relented a bit (partly from muscle fatigue) and Claire slid her finger further in and began to take the measure of his prostate. It was smooth, with no nodules, with its creased indentation expressing a picture of normalcy. Except for one thing ... its size.

“Henry. You have a problem. That is, your prostate seems to be exactly fitted in stature to your penis. This thing is supposed to be walnut sized, not peanut sized,” she laughed.

Claire turned to Brenda and Annie. “I'm not kidding. He's a shrimp. Wow.”

Her finger began to press, then knead, and then expel his small amount of prostate fluid out of his undersized organ into his urethra. “Wow. This isn't going to take long, that's for sure.”

Quickly, with Henry panting rapidly, Claire massaged and liberated the miniscule fluid content of his prostate and seminal vesicles. This may have been demeaning to Henry, but that didn't stop him from becoming sexually aroused.

“Look, ladies,” Claire mocked, “Henry is getting turned on from anal stimulation.”

Sure enough, Henry's insignificant male appendage had stiffened into a small, straight rod.

“Henry, honey. That's so cute. I'm definitely not going to let that go to waste.” Claire and Brenda exchanged knowing glances, and Annie just shook her head.

“But you know, Henry, dear, in your circumstances you're supposed to ask a woman's permission before you have an erection. Oh, well, you'll have lots of time to learn our little rules and customs later on.”

Claire's experienced finger continued to carefully express what fluid content was left in Henry's undersized prostate and delivery systems apparatus until they were totally empty and then, for good measure moved to his Cowper's gland, as well. Annie had seen Claire do this a number of times and knew what was coming next (and it wasn't Henry).

“Okay, Henry. You've been a very good boy, Now just relax those little muscles and I'll just slowly ... draw ... my ... finger (Claire began to bend and rotate her finger about the underside of Henry's sphincter muscles) ... out ... of ... your ... tight ... little ... bottom ... .” And her middle finger slipped free.

Henry's penis was twitching back and forth.

Claire stepped back, tossed the latex glove in a wastepaper basket, and reached down and adjusted the rack a bit. “There, Henry, can you see your penis?”

Henry looked up and saw it jutting out above him. Actually it looked to him as large as it had ever been. No, ... larger. Well, that was Claire's influence on a lot of men.

“Henry, would you like a little ... um, help?” Claire placed her fingers close to Henry's penis.

“Yes, yes, Claire. Please.”

“Sure thing, doll.”

Annie shook her head and arched her eyebrows as Claire began to stroke Henry with a feathery, but sensuous touch.

“Oh, God. Oh, yes. Yes, Claire. More? Please? Mmmmmm. Ahhh!”

As restricted as Henry was in the rack, he still attempted to drive his penis against her light touch. But she would not immediately give it to him.

“Henry, do you really, really want it.”

“Oh, yes, Claire. Yes!”

And with that Claire gently but more firmly began to stroke him and stroke him ... and stroke him ... her long delicate practiced fingers steadily pressing and gliding their way along the contours of his aching penis. Henry's mind ached and his body longed for release. But the internal fluid pressures necessary to trigger his (or any man's) ejaculatory reflexes were, well ... already drained and non-existent, and poor Henry was running on less than fumes.

But pleasurable physical memories are hard to ignore, and every part of his body “knew” an orgasm was in there ... somewhere, maybe during Claire's next delicious stroke. And his sensitive sexual organs began to strain and attempt to pump the non-existent fluids through the dry non-lubricated valves and ducts, ... and then a certain unknown uneasiness began to strike him. At first, it was a mildly strange aching discomfort, ... then with each of her strokes his unease increased and he began to feel a grinding, ripping pain as if grains of sand had been placed deep within his sexual channels and Henry began to blurt out gasps of woeful cries.

But Claire just smiled and said, “Oh, Henry, you're just not quite there yet.”

Claire knew exactly where she wanted him to go, and her talented fingers soon propelled him over the sexual threshold where his body's own involuntary responses ... his sexual convulsions and pulsings became painful, then agonizing, and then unbearable.

If he had not been racked, he would have doubled over. What FemTech described as “false males orgasms” began to roll through him as Claire continued her exquisite unrelenting stimulation. Waves of spasms ripped through the tender, then raw, then swollen inner linings of his sexual organs and, ... finally, ... Claire stepped back to join Annie and Brenda to watch Mr. Dexter's body persist in its futile and excruciatingly painful search for release.

Tears streamed out of Henry's bugged-open eyes on to the nearby floor. Eventually his voice squeaked out quiet little gasping sobs as his barely conscious exhausted body gave up the orgasmic chase. As with other men before him, his body was covered in a thick, fear-induce sweat. He panted quietly, clearly fearful of any thing having to do with Claire.

“Henry, honey,” said Claire bending over to speak to him. “Let's do that again real soon, huh?”

Henry involuntarily gulped in too much air and began to cough violently.

“That's okay, Henry, I can't quite understand it, but I think you're telling me that you loved it. Good. Me too! I'll teach Sue how to do it, and she can give it to you as a reward if you're really good. I'd like to do it to you again right now, but I have a little more work to do with Robert, and he's been so patient. And besides, I don't want to cut into Annie's and Brenda's personal time with you.”

••••

Robert had been listening to his father's cries, but his own personal circumstances were still the center of his attention.

••••

“Hey, junior,” said a smiling Claire as she returned to her little ward. “Are you ready for the piercings? I'll make it very quick.” And she did.

Between Robert's skinny little legs, his penis, now completely devoid of blood, hung pressed thin by the glass vise. Claire knelt down and opened a small steel case that held the piecing equipment.

“Robert. I'm going to do you a little favor. I'm going to use very small ... not the smallest ... but, still, very small, diameter studs in your penis.”

And with that she selected two titanium-steel needles that would guide the studs through and in place. Applying properly “fermented” princk fluid on both sides of the base of his penis, and screwing a measured stud on to the aft end of the piercing needle, she pushed the thick needle into his penis until it came out the other side, unscrewed the needle from the stud, screwed a small flat plate to each exposed end of the stud, and the first piercing was completed.

“How was that, Robert? The first piercing is done.”

“I didn't feel it, Claire.”

“Now, let's do the head of your penis.”

“Oh, Claire. Do you have to?”

“Well, actually, no, Robert, I don't. But, I think a penis piercing will be good for you. I've seen it work with my brothers, Rich and Kyle. There's something of real value for a young male to have these piercings. Sometimes my mother would use the piercings to tether my brothers to a ring in the floor ... or simply to lead them around with a leash from room to room or even to each other ... you know, to give them a little same-sex intimacy. And sometimes when my mother was angry with one of them, she would bend over, slip her index finger into the penis-head “D” ring and give it a little yank! There are so many uses and games to play. She's even attached the ring on the base of Rich's penis to Kyle deep tongue piercing. Hmm, can you visualize that?”

Robert's head was spinning as Claire easily finished penetrating the flattened meatus of Robert's penis, and set the plates in place for the installation of the “D” rings after an hour of princkfluid-assisted healing

•••

Sue would be coming home around noon, and Claire certainly wanted her to be happy and satisfied with FemTech's work.

ã 2005 MystyMason

It would probably be interesting to spend a few days with Claire’s mom. Hmm? But for now, let’s get beck to Sue Dexter.

Any comments?  Contact mysty at mystymason172@hotmail.com

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Sue Dexter Chronicles — Chapter 19

•••

By the time Hector Valez entered the Enhancement Pool Area 16, Sue Dexter’s princk and IHU’s (Internal Hormonal Units) were fully formed and operational. The pool was so comfortable, and the air was so thick with spirals of steams rising from the oxygen-enriched waters, that Sue didn’t even notice him approach her tank. She was also distracted by the pleasurable stirrings within her loins.

But all was proceeding according to FemTech’s plan. Moments earlier, Mona Rathton, Sue’s FemTech Enhancement Pool guide had called for Hector, and Hector, escorted from his PENS enclosure, bound by the wrists and elbows and wearing the typical ankle-bungee, was led to Sue ... for Sue ... for FemTech.

Hector at 57, despite a physically restricted life was, as most PENS inhabitant, in excellent good shape. Had it not been for his ruptured prostate, he would have served FemTech for many, many additional illness-free years. His body was well toned and very, very resilient and flexible, and his mind was ... well, acquiescent, both being the result of decades of princkcum and discipline.

When they reach the pool, Judith Reisler, the FemTech Security Officer spoke with Mona, while Sue Dexter stared at the bound, naked male ... naked except for two coarse, thick rubber straps, one around his upper chest just below his armpits, and one around his waist. Slowly, the head of Sue’s princk rose above the rippling shifting waters of the pool. It was bigger then she’d imaged ... and she was not disappointed.

Mona moved from behind Sue and tactically placed herself between Sue and Valez. Sue’s princk twitched (angrily?) and Sue leaned to her right so as to keep Hector in her sights.

“Let’s stake him,” Mona ordered. Judith guided Valez down the rubber-coated steps at the foot of the large pool until his feet were on its tiled floor. The tall Hector could see over Mona’s shoulder and could not help himself from feasting on the sight of the beautiful woman sitting at the other end of the pool, her marvelous full breasts glistening with the sheen of the pool’s water, and her chiseled features. Even her predatory visage was, in an animal way, intensely exciting.

Judith removed Valez’s ankle-bungee leg restraints and replaced then with thick rubber-coated cuffs, each fastened to separate heavy rubber straps. Then she snapped thick, tight rubber-covered cuffs on each wrist below FemTech’s Velcro bindings, and then placed her hands on his shoulders and pressed down. As he was trained to do, he immediately dropped to his knees with the water lapping the middle of his chest. The Velcro bindings were then released and each arm was then loosely tethered by rubber straps to rings secured to the sides of the pool.

Mona then stepped back and Judith prompted him forward with a light push. Valez began to “walk” on his knees toward Sue Dexter, whose princk had risen yet higher above the pool’s surface like an ancient sea creature looking for mariners to devourer.

As he scuffled forward, the bottom of the pool slowly dropped away until it leveled off with the warm mesmerizing water rippling at his mouth.

“Relax. Let this be easy for once,” Judith said softly to Hector. “Let all the years go. Listen to me, Hector. Let me guide you. I’m going to lift your legs up and fasten them to the walls of the pool. Try not to panic. You’ll see, they will hold you up.”

With the slack taken up in the arm straps by Mona, Judith took her time and, at first, without pulling Hector’s legs at all, threaded the leg straps through the pool’s designated “D” rings at water level height at opposite sides of the pool. Then, with the strength of a conditioned princkmistress Security Officer, Judith began to pull the leg straps together until Hector’s legs began to pull apart ... then rise to the surface ... then spread apart until he floated on the surface fully spread-eagled for ... Sue’s use.

Hector in his panic and flailing had swallowed some of the oxygen- and microsliver-enrich water. But with Judith’s calming assurances, and as soon as he realized that the straps were holding him up and that he wouldn’t drown, he immediately relaxed into his initial calm state ... for a moment. For right in front of him, like the proud bow of a ship, was Sue Dexter’s new toy ... or maybe, he was her new toy. Did it matter?

The head of her penis was above his face and he couldn’t take his eyes off of it as it began to cut through the short distance separating itself from him.

“Sue, Sue,” said Mona, “Quick, we need a small sample of your precum.” Sue was barely present as Mona ran her smooth right hand from the underwater base of Sue’s princk to just beneath its head to encourage and guide the first pumping of Sue’s precum into a small stainless steel FemTech princkfluid storage device.

“Thanks, baby,” Mona praised Sue. “That was real good, just fine, just the right amount.”

Then Mona swiveled and returned the canister to Erica. “Have fun,” giggled Mona.

“You know I will,” said Olmsted, and Mona and Judith watched their immediate supervisor leave the Enhancement Pool area with her little package in her very capable hands.

By that time, Sue had advanced further from her place of repose to stalk the floating and moored Hector.

“Go ahead, Sue, urged Mona. Yes, Sue, do it.”

But Sue didn’t need any encouragement. She didn’t even hear it. All she saw was Hector gaping mouth and straining neck, trying to keep from taking in the water splashing around his surface-height-head. But it was going to be a lot more than water going into his mouth.

Sue’s princk was soooo ready, and the juices in her Internal Hormonal Units were churning, flowing, and oh-so-hot. As she approached his face her hips were already hunching back and forth. Sue grabbed his lower jaw with her hands and pulled herself forward with the strength of her arms ... her hips glided forward and the fat head of her penis pressed against his gasping lips.

“Ahhhh,” moaned Sue, and she switched her grip from his slippery jaw to his perpendicular arms and then to the heavy rubber strap that circled his upper chest. With her strong fingers wrapped around that firm grip, she pried her way past his gums (he knew better then to ever, ever try to close his mouth to a princkmistress) and sank herself deep into his face, totally unconcerned with his comfort or life. Judith and Mona both nodded. Sue Dexter was a natural predator; there was no question about that. It wasn’t just lust. There was something else ... something cruel.

Hector’s natural survival instincts and the physical benefits of decades of having women plunge their stiff organs into his face had not abandoned him. Although he was terrified, he knew how to breathe between strokes, and he braced himself for the incredibly bitter taste of her effluence. But ... it ... wasn’t foul, at all! Her precum was sweet, delicious, life affirming and he suck and swallowed and thrust his face deeply upon her invading shaft. He could feel the ridges along the length of her penis and the slick smooth skin that slid along her womanhood below the breadth of her bulbous princkhead. Oh, this was so different; he never experienced such a taste and elixir, and he encouraged as much contact as he could between his toothless face and the thick firm knob of her penis. He drew and sucked as much of her precum into him as he could ... but ... then ... as her princk continued to thrust itself in and out, encouraged by his hungry sucking, his face began to feel an exaggerated numbness, then his neck ... and chest, back and arms, ... legs and feet. He could barely feel the cuffs on his ankles and wrists, or the thick female appendage in his mouth, but he could see her pumping herself into him ... her taut belly moving back, then rushing forward, then back, ... then grinding from side to side.

Sue had shifted her grasp to the heavy rubber strap around his waist and was trying to burrow herself completely within his mouth and come out the other end. She couldn’t believe the feeling of eruptive power, how good it felt. And she didn’t recognize the grunts and animal guttural sounds as her own, but they were.

But her sweet virginal, one-time-only precum has ceased being produced and now it was her princkcum that was pumping hard ... and its taste was not pleasant, and that was one sense he still maintained.

Then there was a flash point for Sue, a blinding genital explosion that she could never had estimated or expected, ... and it went on for soooo long ... and diminished, ... and rose again, ... and again, until she rested her upper body upon Valez’s back, her breasts slick with water and princkfluids pressing and slippery upon him.

Mona let Sue come down naturally from her sexual high and then began to slowly separate her from Hector. “Come, Sue. There’s more. This one’s done.”

“More? Now?” asked Sue.

“Oh, yes, Sue,” Mona nodded. “Much more. Follow me.”

Sue placed her hands on Hector’s shoulders and pushed herself upright, as if from a feasting table. Oh, yes. Hector’s mouth was still hot, and his gums gripped her princk head tightly.

“It’s a little bonus, Sue. Just pull out, and follow Mona,” Judith said.

Sue pushed with her arms again, this time breaking his lovely grip. And the pleasure Sue experienced in that moment, as his gums involuntarily tightly caressed her exiting princk, caused a shudder to rip through her and a sigh escape her beautiful lips.

“Mona. More? Right now?”

Mona simply nodded again, and beckoned her to follow. Exiting the pool, both Mona and Sue quickly took warm showers, donned thick bathrobes and then Mona walked Sue out into the hall down to a bank of elevators. There were other new princkmistresses there that Sue remembered from the lectures, and the women all giggled or moaned and exchanged lovely and earnestly felt pleasantries, born out of the warm comradeship they each felt with each other.

•••

As Mona and Sue left the pool, Judith had one more small but important function to perform. Hector was about to get his reward. Judith stood behind Hector, between his helplessly spread legs and began to rub his smooth hairless, almost feminine ass cheeks. There was one more invasion Hector would have to endure. Judith was not small, but Hector could take almost anything at this point. And of course, he had no choice.

Judith’s princk was fully engorged as she reached forward and grabbed the rubber strap around Hector’s waist. It was always amazing to her that the longer a male was in the PENS, the tighter his anus became. It was like a miracle, she mused as she jammed her princk between his cheeks and then into his hot rectal tunnel. With her left hand she reached forward and grabbed the thick rubber strap above his upper chest, and with her right hand, snaked around him and began to lovingly stroke and pump his penis, gradually reawakening in him, in his suspended state, the remembrance of ejaculations ... male ejaculations, ... specifically, ... his ejaculations. And he began to rock into her skilled hand, and she pressed his back with her breasts, and her princkhead played upon and stimulated his damaged prostate, and his sexual past-life began to reemerge in his body’s memories, and his sexual organs long clogged began to loosen and expand because of the special effect of Sue’s virgin precum and Judith’s ministrations, and Hector’s hips began to thrust to meet Judith’s increasingly frantic lunges. And as an orgasm crashed though Judith’s strong young body, and a princkmistresses’ sexual fluids began their invasion of him for the last time, he felt his own body explode with an inner release that coursed though him from his toes and to his finger tips, and a small, but oh-so-meaningful sexual discharge oozed from his penis and he shook and trembled in the way that long-time PENS males will do if they’re lucky enough to reach that final release.

Judith loved this part of her work. Hector floated face down in the pool, with the sexual tremors still racing throughout his body. She pulled her princkhead out from his tight, tight sphincter and slowly, languidly walked up the stairs at the foot of the pool. Hector’s face was still in the swirling water, but she could clearly see him continue to breathe the incredibly oxygen-rich mixture. She walked around, sat on the edge of the pool, and continued to stoke her massive and satisfied organ, arching the remainder of its pleasurable discharge into the pool. As always, the microslivers, triggered even by the small amount of the male’s sexual emission into the pool began their last activity for the night. She watched them pulsing up from the bottom, from all over, swirling about and moving past her and towards Mr. Valez. She could see him breathe them in ... and out ... and in ... as they invaded him in the most gross and subtle ways imaginable. Within a few hours, Hector would be a memory and the microslivers would be fully fed and ready for another day’s work helping women reach their potential. It all made perfect sense to Judith. Yes. She really liked her job, every last aspect of it.

•••

As the large elevator rose, women in two’s and three’s excitedly exited at various floors.

Mona, Sue, and two other women exited the elevator on the sixteenth floor and began to walk down the hall past doorways opening into vast rooms of cages, filled with ... men? Well on this floor, the sixteenth floor, ... no, not quite men. Younger.

“These are all about Robert’s age, Sue,” said Mona. “It’s a bit between feedings, but we always make exceptions for new princkmistresses. We would like you to experience a male or two about Robert’s age. After all, you did say in your interviews that you would like to keep Robert alive for your use and enjoyment. Some small amount of restraint by you, for example, a few well placed FemTech silicone ‘spacers’ until Robert gains the resiliency and survival tactics of an experienced princk receptacle can help keep him alive for you. We can help him and you by letting you practice with some of these specimens,” and Mona waved her hand toward the banks of small cages.

“Now?” asked Sue, her rising princk separating the folds of her heavy bathrobe.

Mona signaled to the station attendant by holding two fingers in the air and then pointing to a cage containing a frightened relative newcomer to the PENS. The marionette tethers and bars began to move and slide in their smooth silent manner and almost immediately, by the time Sue and Mona reached his ... umm, home, ... his mouth, on one end of the cage and his rectum at the other, were both firmly pressed in opposite directions against the cushioned bars of his enclosure. Mona stepped forward and adjusted the height of the little cage to accommodate their sexual interests, while Sue’s eyes grew wide with enthusiasm.

Sue looked at Mona. “Now?”

Mona moved her shoulders and her robe fell to the floor exposing her breasts and stiffened princk.

“Yes, Sue.” Mona smiled, breathing a bit heavily.  “Now,” whispered Mona as she stepped to the rear of the youth’s pen.

© 2006 MystyMason