The Dionysus Project

Chapter 12

Moriarty was led into a darkened room by Penelope, the solitary window covered by a heavy blind. She counted seven figures, only one a male, sitting in a semi circle in the centre of the room. Fleming enjoyed the middle chair, flanked by Patterson and another blonde in a business suit. Moriarty was unsettled by their blank stares as she stepped into the circle. Patterson answered her look with only a grave nod, sitting erect in her chair.

       “Good afternoon Dr Moriarty,” the Chief Executive Officer spoke in measured tones. “I am pleased that you could spare the time to visit us. I hope you had a pleasant journey.”

       Moriarty nodded, and then realised that more was needed.

       “Yes, thank you. It’s a short flight.”

       “You flew? I thought you were coming by road.”

       “I flew this morning. The subject was driven overnight.”

       “Overnight.”

       “Yes, in a van.”

“I hope that he’s in good shape after his long journey. I’m sure I speak for all of us when I say that we are all looking forward to seeing him. I’ve seen the video and the photographs, but nothing quite beats the real thing.”

       “Would you like to see him now?”

       Fleming only needed to smile to send Moriarty to the door. She returned within seconds, leading Dean in his thong with his hands chained to his neck brace. They both stood before the circle of corporate dignitaries, the bound and naked whore more at ease than the woman with her black briefcase and blue business suit.

       All seven pairs of eyes were absorbed by Dean, standing before them with his pouch bulging from his rising erection. The women were obviously entranced by his torso and his erection, but even the man seemed to be overwhelmed by the vitality of their visitor.

“I think I had a dream like this one time,” one of the women commented, gazing at the bugling pouch.

       “Now, with your permission, Miss Fleming, I would like to demonstrate our subject’s … capabilities.”

A cursory nod to the guard brought her to draw down his costume to reveal a hardening penis. Moriarty ordered him to bend over, stand on his toes and raise his buttocks to allow her to wipe the base of his penis with alcohol and slowly insert the needle. Only when the spine had been driven into the flesh up to the hilt did she press her thumb against the plunger, gradually injecting the serum. She gave him a double dose, because he was on display and she could not afford for him to be anything other than rampant today.

Once the syringe was out she returned her bottles to her bag and removed her gloves, leaving her obedient subject to capture the imagination of her audience. Only when she was ready did she ask Dean to rise to stand before them with a superb erection.

“As you can see, the penis is becoming erect. The full impact of the serum is normally only visible after about two minutes. However, the subject was already aroused.”

“Why so long?” the man asked. “Most stimulants act within seconds.”

“This stimulant also influences his mentality so …”

“You mean he’s aroused as a consequence of the serum.”

“Yes. Most stimulants simply invoke muscle spasm, so that the penis becomes rigid. There is no sexual pleasure involved, other than possessing an erect penis with which you can pleasure others.”

“So, to be blunt Dr Moriarty,” Fleming leant forward for a closer view of Dean’s erection. “He’s not just hard, he’s horny as well.” Moriarty nodded, staring down at the erection that was now complete. “Doctor, if that thing gets any bigger, we’ll have to find a bigger room.”

“He has undergone the enhancement therapy?” The woman at the end of the row of chairs, a smartly dressed plump fifty year old with jet black bouffant hair asked as she leant forward in her chair for a closer view of his penis.

“Yes, though there has not yet been a significant difference …”

“Has it altered the constitution of his penis?”

“I have not noticed any significant change in the condition of the subject’s genitals. However, you are welcome to a closer inspection.” She exchanged a glance with Fleming as Moriarty ordered Dean to “present your genitals for inspection” to the plump woman with charcoal hair.

“Yes Dr Moriarty.”

Dean stood before the woman, who offered her neighbour a quizzical look before turning to study Dean’s member.

“The serum is very effective. Feel this.” She offered Dean’s shaft to her neighbour. “It’s as hard as rock.” The neighbour gasped to feel the prisoner’s rigid flesh.

“Suzie, you have to feel this.” She sent him to the woman at the other end of the row of chairs who enjoyed an entire minute of running her hand back and forth along the shaft. Fleming suggested that everyone should enjoy a feel of Dean’s erection, “even if we all be having a much closer feel later on.” The man declined the offer.

“Tom, don’t be shy, or jealous.”

“Emily, I’d rather be sitting here than standing there. That skin’s very tight. Does it hurt, son.”

“No, Sir.”

“I think you may be lying.”

The tour ended and Dean returned to stand before his audience as the guard stood behind him and removed his shackles.

“I have to say that was magnificent. Is he as good as he looks, Doctor Moriarty? Will we see him in action?” Fleming turned to her colleagues. “Do we have a volunteer?” The women giggled when the man exclaimed that he was not available for the task.

“Ladies.” Moriarty attempted to restore restraint to the proceedings. The women were getting excited, just like the female medics at the Faculty. “We would like to demonstrate the scale of our subject’s … flexibility and his subjugation to our wishes.” She smiled at Patterson as she called Dean to stand beside her. “I will be a few moments. Meanwhile the subject will prepare himself for his next routine.” Moriarty marched out of the room to leave Dean squatting on the floor, stretching his calves, crossing his legs, bending over to set his nose against his knees and stretching backwards so that his head almost touched the ground. She returned as he attempted to perform the splits on the carpet.

Moriarty was pushing a dentist’s chair decorated with straps across the carpet. She set the chair in front of the Board and the captive clambering into place, allowing Moriarty to secure his ankles and bind his hands once more against the hardwood board pressing against his back. One press of a lever and Dean’s feet were lifted above his head, pressing him against the wooden board. Moriarty began to turn a wheel and the angle between the two boards started to shrink. Only when he opened his mouth did his audience realise the nature of the forthcoming obscenity.

“Oh my goodness,” one woman exclaimed. “That’s the most disgusting sight I’ve ever seen.” She left her seat for a closer view of the coarse and demeaning act. Moriarty believed that the ‘auto’ chair once more highlighted her skills and her power over him, and emphasised the potential for gay sales. The pink dollar was important in San Francisco, and she believed that he could earn vast amounts of money in this city blowing his own horn for a fee.

The penis tip had now disappeared into Dean’s mouth, but even though he had swallowed his own foreskin, Moriarty continued to turn the wheel, leaving Dean in agony. Only when the groans from her captive had become unrelenting did she end her torture and Dean began his fellatio, rocking his head back and forth to consume his own phallus. He even halted to lick his own foreskin during his perverted display, provoking chuckles from the man and few gasps from the women. The fellatio continued for about five minutes before Moriarty ordered Dean to cease.

“I don’t want him to ejaculate in this position. I wish to highlight another feature of our training regime and our … modifications.”

Dean was removed from the chair and returned to stand before his audience, rubbing his hot skin.

“Do you feel any shame?” the man asked as Dean’s erection stood out, his shaft and head glistening from his own saliva. “You’ve just performed a most degrading and uncomfortable act, yet you are now standing before us without any appearance of embarrassment or humiliation.”

Dean turned to Moriarty.

“Answer the gentleman’s question. How do you feel?”

“I’m a porn stud, ready for action.” He thrust his pelvis forward to emphasise his point. “I want to show off my magnificent cock.” He accelerated the massaging of his shaft, staring at the women as he feigned sexual frenzy.

“Now the subject will demonstrate his potency.” She laid a dark towel on the carpet before Fleming and turned to Deam. “Masturbate, slowly at first and then vigorously. Alert me when you are about to ejaculate.”

“Yes, Doctor Moriarty.”

Dean slowly stroked the shaft. He looked at the women and then down at his penis as the rhythm gradually increased towards a frantic rubbing. He placed his left hand behind his back while his right hand worked his genitals. Moriarty ordered him to spread his legs wider.

“The subject has been trained, though highly stimulated, to avoid premature ejaculation. This enables any spectator to enjoy a prolonged show.”

After a few minutes Dean announced that he was approaching his peak and asked for permission to come. There was no answer, so he continued to work his shaft.

“Please, Mistress.”

“Proceed.”

Dean crouched even lower and, moaning and gasping, he ejected a stream of semen that travelled more than six feet to land beyond the towel on the carpet by Fleming’s expensive dark blue shoes. Gasps greeted the first pulse, followed by more exclamations as the flow continued, six pulses that ended with a last discharge that rolled down the shaft to Dean’s quivering fingers. He stood for a moment, panting as he looked down on his stained penis, before placing both hands on his hips, to announce that his expulsion was at an end. His gesture brought forth applause from the audience, and Dean could not resist a timid smile that endeared him to all the women in the room with the exception of Moriarty.

Fleming leant forward to examine the semen decorating the dark towel before looking up to the naked whore, who had returned to stroking his hard shaft.

“You’ve shoot out quite a load, young man.” He smiled once more, and she decided that she would enjoy his favours. The arrogant pose, she knew, was just playing a role. The playful, almost innocent, smile told her more.

“Now, does anyone have any questions for Dr Moriarty?” The plump woman at the end raised a thick finger.

“Yes, how much … progress has there been with his penis?”

“We’ve had growth of approximately two point one four centimetres.”

“That’s less than an inch, Dr Moriarty.” Fleming stared at her guest.

“That is correct. We’re hoping …”

“You’ve been engaged in this project for nearly eight months, and that has earned your subject just one inch.”

“That’s a lot of pain for just an inch.” The man spoke in a low, disquieting tone.

“Well, I’m not sure I would call it pain. Perhaps a degree of discomfort …”

“Dr Moriarty,” he interrupted. “I’ve seen the video. Ladies, you will all have to take my word on this. I can assure you that sticking those rods down his tract and setting off an electrical current hurts like hell.” There was a silence, broken only by the sound of Dean rubbing his stained shaft.

“Dr Moriarty. How often is your subject … subjected to expansion therapy?” Fleming asked.

“Well, I’m not sure …”

“Daily?”

“Not daily.” Moriarty shook her head as if to dismiss the idea. She took a step back and now she was glaring at the carpet. The meeting had suddenly taken an unpleasant course.

“Are you sure?” Fleming was distracted by Dean, loyally thrusting his hips forward and panting in excitement. “Dean.” The naked whore masturbating before her was startled to hear his name. “How long do you spend each day strapped to the table in the Treatment Room with electrodes shoved down your cock?”

“Well, I don’t know … I mean, not very often at all. It doesn’t hurt really.”

“I admire your loyalty, Dean. I am not sure your allegiance is well served.” She was looking at the naked prisoner, but her comment was aimed at Moriarty, who seemed to have lost the colour from her face. “Now, unless anyone has any more questions, I suggest that we take advantage of our resource while his rigidity remains.”

“I’ll pass on this one.” The comment drew a laugh from his neighbour.

“I’ll also pass,” Patterson said. “I’ve had the pleasure of … being pleasured by our friend here. I’ll give the chance to someone else.”

“Emily, as the sponsor of this project, I think you should be offered the first chance,” the plump woman at the end of the row said, and the others nodded their approval.

“Fine, but I hope his battery lasts until he gets to the end of the line.”

“I can assure you, Miss, I can keep going for a long time. Some of you may have to be patient while I serve the other ladies, but I hope I am worth the wait.”

Emily rose from her chair, carefully stepping over the stained towel, and approached the naked whore, still vigorously rubbing his thick shaft. 

“You can save yourself some wear and tear, young man. Penelope.” The young woman in the black business suit appeared from the shadows. “Is the suite ready?”

“Yes, Miss Fleming. There’s a shower and fresh linen.”

“Excellent. Now I would like to thank you all for coming today and to Dean for … well coming today. Let’s hope the second half of the show matches his first performance. Dr Moriarty, I will see you before you go. Rebecca will take you for lunch while I enjoy the benefits of your work.”

Fleming enjoyed thirty minutes with Dean before she passed him onto her blonde neighbour in the meeting room. She took a more gentle approach and only returned nearly fifty minutes later. The third woman, the youngest of the group, almost ran to the suite, but she was less energetic when she returned, grasping a cushion as she joined the others on the couch in the executive lounge. She gingerly took her seat, drawing laughs from the other women.

“It’s not funny. I thought I was a bit of an animal, but he nearly ripped me in half. I think I’m in love,” she continued, sipping her coffee.

“Actually, he is charming.” Fleming spoke. “That posing is just an act. The women in LA said he was very polite, except when he’s around Moriarty.”

“Is it just me, or is she a bit of a bitch?” the plump woman with ebony hair asked Fleming.

“More than a bit. We’ll have to put a stop to her fairly soon. An inch in nearly nine months. He’s been on that table for about four hours a day for the past month. My contacts tell me that he has to be carried from the table after his treatment. I can’t imagine that men will pay good money for that, especially if it’s going to take hours out of your day.”

“So, what are we going to do?” the young woman sitting on her cushion asked.

“We’ll carry on, for now, but I’m not sure that the Dionysus Project has a great deal more life left.”

This time they did not make her wait for an hour. As soon as the van arrived, Moriarty informed the pompous Penelope that the day’s sexual entertainment was sitting in the courtyard. She watched Penelope as Dean stepped out of the van, and she relished her lust as she surveyed Dean, naked and bound to his neck brace. She ordered him to stand still while the guard placed him in his costume, insisting that she draw the straps tight to accentuate his mound. Then, he was commanded to revolve slowly to allow her a last inspection before his presentation and to give Penelope a full view of his magnificent body. She required him to turn twice before announcing herself to be satisfied, and no more, with his appearance.

The party was led into a small and empty reception room where the guard and Moriarty sat while he stood. She told him to be compliant and respectful and to “give a really fantastic performance.” He promised her that he would make her proud, and she stroked his thigh as a mark of her gratitude.

Penelope appeared once more, smiling now, as she asked Moriarty to step into the room. She returned almost immediately to lead her trophy to the Board, sitting expectantly for a sight of the stud. Moriarty felt a sense of pride as she looked at Dean, staring at each Board member with a look of calm dignity that offered neither malice nor petition.

Moriarty was thrilled to be demonstrating her control over the young man who was exciting such interest from her employers. So, she slowly set her bag on the table beside her subject and carefully removed her syringe, the small bottle of serum, a gauze pad and a bottle of alcohol. There was no need to wear gloves, but she slipped on a pair of surgical gloves for a professional image and to leave him bending over, waiting for her.

“Higher,” she said, her voice no more than a whisper. His immediate reaction, raising his buttocks to expose the base of his penis, sent a wave of sexual excitement coursing through her body. Finally the serum was in the syringe and she was ready. Moriarty delayed for just a moment, leaving him exposed before her. After the injection the syringe remained in his body a few seconds longer than necessary, and she could feel him quiver from the pain. She could not resist delaying the withdrawal to highlight her command over this naked man.

Once he was fully erect she sent him to one of the Board members, the plump one at the end of the row, for a close view of his penis before he returned to perform his auto fellatio. She stood to the side, listening to the gasps mingled with the sound of Dean licking his own foreskin. She allowed him five minutes before removing him from the chair for the climax of his show, the ejaculation. The towel she intentionally placed too close so that, if Dean delivered as he had delivered over the past week, he would send his seed beyond the towel onto the carpet.

As he approached his crescendo she wondered whether he was standing too far away, but he did not fail her, sending his stream over the edge of the towel and onto the expensive blue rug. Fleming looked down to her shoes, and she could not resist a gentle laugh to see such a spectacular ejaculation. Moriarty was hoping that he would stain Fleming’s shoes with his seed, but that feat proved to be beyond him. Patterson looked at Moriarty in the aftermath of Dean’s explosion and winked. Moriarty knew then that the visit had been a success.

After Dean had been escorted to the private lounge to entertain Miss Fleming, Moriarty left with Patterson for a meal in the cafeteria. There she learnt that the future of the project was not quite so promising. Patterson outlined the problems.

“The costs are high and so far you have not got his dick that much bigger.”

“They seemed to enjoy the show.”

“They thought he was fantastic, but he was pretty sensational when we first met him.”

“They’re going to cancel the project?”

“No, but you’ll have to start making money. Forget the injections into his balls. No man really cares about how much semen he pumps out. We will never sell that idea. Frankly, it was a complete dead end, and I’m sorry I allowed it to continue for so long. Stop it now.”

Moriarty seethed as she heard her manager’s criticism, having invested so much time and effort in producing the cascade that had so impressed Dean’s audience. At the moment of her triumph she was being told to abandon her achievement. Moriarty glowered into her coffee and said nothing.

It was more than two hours before one of the assistants came to the cafeteria to inform Moriarty that the last of the Board members had finished with Dean, and that she could collect him from Miss Fleming’s lounge. She arrived to find the Board members had gone, and Dean stood with the guard, already dressed in his thong and chained at the neck. She decided to parade him one last time before the office workers. It was meagre compensation for her setback in the cafeteria, but she would display her whore before Penelope and the other pompous toads in tight Armani skirts.

She led him through the main hall and left him by the reception doorway, pretending to visit the toilet to allow the women to behold his body and, perhaps, draw near for a touch of his glistening flesh. She remained by the sinks for more than five minutes before returning to find a dozen women surrounding him in his crimson thong. She was pleased to notice the pretentious Penelope loitering by his side, leering at his bulging costume.

“I’m sorry ladies, we have to leave.”

A groan from the audience greeted Dean’s departure, though one or two women comforted themselves with a parting stroke of his bulge and a few grasped his buttocks. Moriarty was not appeased by showing the Corporation functionaries that she owned a stud. She was still angered by Patterson’s betrayal, and she allowed herself to vent her anger on the prisoner. When Dean was placed in the van and his neck brace fastened to the bracket in the ceiling she ordered the guard to attach his ankles to his wrists, leaving him swinging from the low ceiling. The fat driver and her companion who, she knew, would be halting every hour to rape his hole and taste his shaft, came to giggle at the bound whore dangling from his chains with his anus exposed to the hot air. Moriarty completed her revenge by administering a double dose to keep him hard and sore on the long hot road from San Francisco to Los Angeles.