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Chapter 11
Dean breathed deep as he tried, once more, to stretch his back on the table as Cindi cast an ominous shadow on the stained wood.
“Get on with it, you piece of fuckmeat. I want the palms of your hands and the soles of your feet touching the line. Ten seconds or it’s another caning.”
Dean balanced on the edge of the table and leant back, reaching for the tabletop. He managed to plant his hands, but they were still more than a foot from the lines drawn on the table. He was required to place both his hands and his feet within the box by arching his back until his feet were no more than two feet from his hands. He was preparing for the final ingredient in Moriarty’s scheme, her crowning moment and his supreme humiliation, when he would fellate himself before the Board.
Cindi collected her cane and administered three sharp blows to Dean’s chest, leaving a trio of scarlet lines across his torso. He winced, but he maintained his pose, reaching back with his hands as he desperately sought the line before his tormentor delivered another swipe.
Moriarty and Walton walked into the room to see Dean balanced on the table, his hands only inches from the line.
“Isn’t he the wrong way round?” Walton asked. “He’ll never suck his dick from there.”
“We stretch him both backwards and forwards to heighten suppleness.”
“Impressive,” Walton commented, smiling at the scale of the research subject’s obedience.
“Not really. He should have both his hands and his feet on the line. We’re still days from success.”
“I thought he had managed to reach …”
“Reach, but he’s licking and not sucking, and my task will only be complete when he achieves full fellatio.”
“You have high standards, Kerry, or should that be low standards.” She turned to the nurse glowering as she stood over the contorted figure balanced on the table.
“My compliments, Cindi. He seems to be making great progress.” Walton circled the captive, but she halted her tour to stare at his buttocks. “You’ve been very busy with his anus.”
“We find the anus is the most effective route to subservience,” Moriarty explained. “Also, anal discipline trains the subject for his future as a gay whore.”
“He’ll be used as a gay whore?” Walton looked at Moriarty. “I thought it was only films.”
“There’s been considerable interest. Our secret porn star is not such a secret anymore.” Walton ran her fingers over his stomach, feeling the moist skin quiver at her touch.
“I know that the pictures from the villa made their way onto a website.” Walton caressed the underside of Dean’s erection with her fingers. “I’m sure they can’t wait to get hold of his cock, and I don’t blame them.” She squeezed his moist tip, and felt a flicker from his taut body. His erection was splendid, but Walton was disturbed by the sight of his testicles, now the size of small oranges. She stroked his thigh, feeling the firm muscles straining to hold the pose. Moriarty and her team of sadistic sluts had succeeded in creating a compliant sex toy, but Walton was unsettled by Moriarty’s obsessions with his semen.
“He’s due to begin making gay films within a month,” Moriarty continued. “He’s also got some bookings later for private parties.”
“Will they be expecting to see him sucking his own cock, or will that just be a pleasant surprise? How did they know to call here? I saw the pictures, but there’s nothing to link him with the Corporation.”
“We employ more than fifty women, and none of them can keep a secret. Therefore, it was only a matter of time before we were approached by some very influential figures who wish to ‘borrow’ him for a day or two. In fact, representatives of one of the most distinguished callers will be arriving within the hour for a viewing.”
“In that case we should enjoy our subject before those queers get their hands on him.” Moriarty scowled. “Oh Kerry, don’t be so PC. Now, do I get to play with his cock or not?”
“You can, but no milking. He’s going to show off to our guests.”
“In that case, he can bend over backwards another time. I want him washed and on that stage in five minutes. I’m going for a coffee.”
An hour later Moriarty led a young man with long dark hair tied in a pony tail and dressed in a purple frock coat and an even younger woman, no more than twenty, in a grey business suit into the Performance Suite. Dean stood before the small table with Cindi, cane in hand, by his side. She ordered him to perform the ‘spreadeagle’ pose. He placed his palms together and balanced on the table, drawing his legs apart while he leant forward, presenting his anus to anyone who chose to stand behind him. His leg muscles rippled as he held the pose, and his panting breath betrayed his struggle to keep his toes pointing forward.
“Superb,” commented the woman, moving closer for an intimate examination of his glistening tense body. “His muscle tone is quite superb.” The woman’s accent was French, but Moriarty also recognised a Canadian lilt. She recalled that the business magnate owned an extensive range of companies in Canada.
“May I ask, Mademoiselle Moriarty …”
“Doctor Moriarty.” The smile was cold enough to freeze meat.
“I beg you pardon. Doctor Moriarty, may I ask whether your subject is a homosexual, or displays homosexual tendencies?”
“No.”
“Excellent. My client prefers using reluctant participants. It adds to his pleasure that they endure humiliation as well as pain.” She ran her palm along his inner thigh towards his anus. “May I have him on his hands and knees? I wish to examine him.” A stroke of Cindi’s cane brought him down from the table.
“You heard your mistress,” she growled. Dean leapt back onto the table and spread his knees to display his hole.
“Good doggy,” the man in the frock coat said with a giggle.
The young woman removed the jacket of her business suit along with her bracelet and her rings, placing them on the small table in the corner. She then slipped on a pair of plastic gloves before standing behind Dean, peering between his buttocks. She inserted her middle finger and began to push. The muscles parted and she was able to massage another two fingers into her subject.
“Have you been conditioning him for his new role?”
“There’s been a little work done in recent weeks,” Moriarty replied. “Our focus has been on other issues. We’re hoping …”
“There is a great deal more to be done. His passage is very tight. A gay whore is expected to be able to accommodate a fist without friction. The whores in my client’s … collection are able to house at least six centimetres to a depth of twenty centimetres.”
“Pardon? Could I have that in feet and inches?” Cindi asked.
“About two and a half inches wide and eight inches deep,” Moriarty told her assistant.
Delacroix opened her briefcase to show the two women a wide black tube with a plastic handle.
“That, Mademoiselle Delacroix, will be quite a challenge,” Moriarty replied, taking the plug from her visitor.
“If you want your whore to be a success you’ll …”
“We prefer the term, research subject,” Moriarty interrupted with another icy stare.
“Research subject?”
“This is a medical and psychological experiment. We are developing new conditioning methods that will enable us to enhance the sexual performance of adult entertainment artists.”
As Moriarty explained the basic features of the Dionysus Project, Delacroix ordered Dean to turn on his back while she examined his penis, casually massaging him towards a firm erection. Once she was satisfied with the rigidity of his penis, claiming him to be ‘very hard,” she removed her gloves and replaced her jewellery. Only then did she speak to Moriarty.
“We are not paying you six thousand dollars to be part of a clinical trial, Doctor Moriarty. We expect the man we viewed in those pictures to be brought to serve us as a gay whore for a period of exactly twenty four hours. Is that understood?”
The tone of the young woman, no more than a girl, turned colder and shaper with every word. By the end of her speech she was almost spitting the words. The two women glared at one another across the naked whore splayed on the desk between them.
“Miss Delacroix, you can assure Mr Downing that this man will be brought to the allotted place at the allotted time. I also promise him total discretion. Whatever happens on your uncle’s yacht will remain a secret.”
The young man stepped between his employer’s niece and the young doctor. He placed a hand on Dean’s backside and ran his hand down his leg, stroking his inner thigh.
“May I take your research subject for a test run?” he asked Moriarty, eager to distract her from young Lillian Delacroix.
“A test run?”
“May I taste a sample?”
“A sample?” Moriarty was still confused.
“Mister Porter wishes to bugger your research subject, Doctor Moriarty.”
“Only if that would be fine with you, Doctor,” he said, moving away from the naked slave on the table. “I don’t wish to cause offence. I can wait until his visit, if necessary. I’m in no hurry to fuck the monkey.”
“No, Mr Porter. It is time for him to be fully introduced to this aspect of his future career.”
“May I have him bound?” Porter asked as he removed his cravat and coat, handing them to Cindi without a glance.
“I can assure you that he will not resist, or if he does …”
“It’s a fetish of mine. I tie up my partner, and we’ve been together for six years.”
“He is here to satisfy your desires, so we will bind him. His hands behind his back, or do you have a special preference?”
“No, any form of bondage will be fine. I don’t want to be any bother.”
Cindi stepped forward, offered a deferential nod to Moriarty and an opinion.
“Doctor, what about the fuckbox?”
“Thank you, Cindi, that’s an excellent idea.”
“I’ll clean him first, Doctor, if he’s going to be performing with our guest.”
Cindi grabbed Dean’s face, and now she returned to her arrogant tone as she stared into his eyes.
“Have you heard the good news? You’re about to get some real meat in your hole. I’m sure you’ll enjoy every minute. Now every dog needs a leash.” She tied a collar around his neck and led him to the shower room for a three minute deluge of cold water before returning him to be tied to the ‘fuckbox’ for the enjoyment of Mr Porter.
Porter removed the last of his clothing to reveal a fine physique and stood, naked, behind Dean strapped to his box.
“Fucking a whore with your trousers around the ankles is such a sordid sight,” he told Moriarty. “It makes me feel so …. furtive.”
Porter coated his penis with gel before placing the tip against Dean’s anus and gradually forcing himself into the slave. Only when he was at least three inches inside did he begin to pulse back and forth, inducing a slight moan from his reluctant partner. The shaft sank deeper, every stroke testing the muscle until he had fully entered his bound captive.
Then the abuse began. It was, like his entry, a slow gradual quickening of the pace until he was vigorously thrusting the full length of his shaft.
“Head up,” Cindi ordered. Dean looked up to stare at the three women observing his first experience of sodomy. Cindi leant forward, her face no more than a foot from Dean.
“Enjoying that cock in your hole? How’s our first real rape? Well, get used to it. Your butt is going to be having lots of visitors soon.” She showed him Delacroix’s broad plug and smiled.
Porter’s enthusiastic pulses became almost frantic as he gasped for breath until he leant forward and his legs quivered while he sent his load into Dean. He remained inside his victim for almost another minute before he withdrew to wipe his penis on a cloth and ask for the shower room. He followed Cindi out of the Performance Suite, not even looking back at the man he had just buggered, his anus now splattered with Porter’s semen.
“Mister Porter is a former professional who now works for my client in a … consulting capacity,” Delacroix explained. “Even now he spends a great deal of his time servicing my client’s sexual needs, either indirectly or directly.”
Delacroix moved around the table to examine Dean’s anus after his rape. She noticed his enormous testicles and grasped one in her hand, provoking the first pathetic sound since Porter entered his passage.
“The subject’s testicles have been expanded to allow for massive ejaculations. We believe it will be a selling point with our customers.”
“May I now enjoy a taste?”
“Of course, do you need a vibrator?”
“No, I’ll suck him for a while.”
“The subject will warn you when he is about to ejaculate. He does issue quite a flow of semen.”
“Thank you for the warning, Doctor Moriarty, but I am regularly served by my client’s stable of whores, and all of them provided excellent practice.”
Dean was instructed to lie on the table, his legs draped over the side, to allow Delacroix access to his erection. Delacroix began her ritual, licking the shaft before enveloping the head and commencing a slow pulsing of the tip. She looked up at Dean as the tip of her tongue explored the head of his penis. He wrapped his legs around the table legs for a firmer grip as he began to move his hips in response to her fellatio. She raised and lowered her head as she teased his shaft, occasionally drawing away to lick the tip with her tongue. Dean remained calm, but his grip on the table legs tightened as his moment of climax approached.
Porter returned, drying himself with a towel after his shower. He was accompanied by Cindi who came to stand over Dean as his orgasm approached.
“Come on, you fucking slut. Work that arse. Don’t make Mistress do all the work, you lazy whore.”
Dean pulsed his hips for no more than a minute before he threw back his head.
“Coming, Mistress. I’m about to come.” Delacroix continued to hold his shaft in her mouth, so he issued another warning. “Mistress, I’m coming. I’m …”
Delacroix gasped as the seed filled her mouth, coughing his semen onto his testicles as she struggled for breath. She lifted her mouth clear of the tip, but the pulses of white cream continued, spraying her face as she opened her mouth to catch the last drops of the stream. She rose from the table and stared at her blouse, now stained by his discharge. Porter laughed at the sight of her soiled face.
“That was like swallowing a fire hose.” Cindi handed her a towel.
“What have you been feeding him?” Porter asked.
“It’s a special diet. We’ve expanded his testicles and he can now expel more than eight times the average amount of semen.”
“He’s a freak.”
“No, he’s a marvel,” Delacroix replied, caressing Dean’s thigh. “I can’t wait to taste him again.”
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