At Her Command (7 page)

“I’m going to come, now, ahhh.” She writhed
on the sheets under Inga. Inga rose on her knees and pinched her
nipples; her anus clenched Nathan’s finger, as her orgasm swept
through her like a rogue wave. She cried out something in Swedish,
and lowered herself onto Bridget’s body. They kissed. Inga slid to
the bed and lay beside Bridget. Nathan knelt at the bottom of the
bed and stared at the two beautiful women, radiating their
post-orgasmic glow, his swollen balls aching, anus clenching his
butt plug, and longing eating away at his insides.

*****

Nathan showered, shaved, and dressed before
dawn. He brought them coffee, yogurt, and fruit from the breakfast
buffet, removed his clothes and knelt at Bridget’s feet as they
chatted and breakfasted. “Do you give your slave enemas?” Inga
asked. Nathan tightened his anus, clenching the butt-plug.

“No, I haven’t. I keep him plugged most of
the time and have used a prostate massager on him.”

“I don’t want to have an accident today
during the workshop. Do you mind if I give him an enema
beforehand?” Nathan felt woozy, off-balance.

“Not at all, but I don’t have any
equipment.”

“I carry a can and syringes when I travel.
They are in my room.” Inga and Bridget showered together as Nathan
knelt on the bathroom floor. Both women dressed in tight, black
leather pants. Bridget sported a new leather bustier that accented
her tiny waist and large breasts. Inga’s red leather corset
accented her fair skin and blonde hair. Inga went to her room and
returned with a small nylon duffle. Nathan watched her unpack the
bag and place the two-quart medical grade steel can on the counter.
She attached a rubber hose, a valve, and a disposable enema
catheter.

“Most people make the mistake of getting too
small a can.” Nathan watched them going over the setup as if he
weren’t there. Inga held up the catheter. “It’s a retention
catheter. One bulb goes inside the anus and the other stays
outside. By inflating them, the liquid is trapped inside the colon
and can’t be expelled until they are deflated.”

“Are you going to do it now?” Bridget asked.
Nathan blushed crimson as both women looked at him.

“Yes, I think now is a good time. Put some
towels on the bed and I’ll prepare the enema.” Nathan watched the
women, the way a prisoner watches a gallows being built outside his
cell, with a mixture of dread and frightened curiosity. Inga set
the can on the nightstand.

“Go into the bathroom and remove your
butt-plug, slave.” He followed Bridget’s command, washed the shiny,
stainless, teardrop-shaped plug, and lay atop the towels on the
bed.

“Turn on your left side, slave,” Inga said.
She moved Nathan’s right knee toward his chest and slightly turned
his hips. Her touch was electric, as she parted his buttocks and
inserted the lubricated catheter. Nathan felt the inner balloon
swell inside his belly, as she squeezed the bulb four times. “Four
is all you need. No need to overinflate.” The outer balloon forced
his buttocks apart slightly as she inflated it. “The trick is to
only release a small amount of water at a time, no more than half a
cup.” Nathan tried to relax as the warm liquid seeped into his
bowels. “If you start to cramp, slave, take deep breaths and
massage your belly.”

Inga slowly emptied almost two quarts of
warm, scented water into Nathan’s belly, as he massaged his body
and drew in deep breaths through his nose. She closed the valve.
“How long do you leave it in?” Bridget stared at Nathan’s belly for
signs of distention.

“I like to wait ten or fifteen minutes to let
it do its job and loosen everything. He’ll be squeaky clean and
small fresh as a spring morning.” Both women giggled. A sharp cramp
seized Nathan. “Breathe, slave.” Fifteen minutes later, Inga led
him to the bathroom. I’m going to let you release the pressure
after you re seated on the water closet. Let the pressure go down
and then remove the catheter. Then evacuate your bowels.” She
pointed to the empty catheter package on the vanity. “Rinse it off,
put it back in the package, and throw it in the trash, then
shower.” She pulled the door closed behind her. Nathan sighed,
grateful that at least, that his humiliation was private. He
released the pressure. Two quarts of filthy water gushed out of his
anus, forcing out the catheter, soiling the toilet and splashing
against his backside. The foul odor made him gag. He flushed before
rising and gagged again as he felt more filthy water splash against
his buttocks. He stepped into the shower and scrubbed his body with
soap and a washcloth, lathering his skin and rinsing, over and
over.

Bridget was alone when he stepped out of the
bathroom. “Inga went ahead to set up.” She pointed to a new pair of
white Calvin Klein briefs and a white wife beater tee shirt. “Put
those on. I don’t want to keep Inga waiting.” She buckled the black
leather collar around his neck and attached the leash. Nathan
slipped on a heavy terrycloth robe over his underwear, stepped into
a pair of flip-flops, and followed Bridget, who led him by the
leash to the meeting room. The hotel had closed the dividers in the
ballroom creating six meeting rooms. Nathan stared at the schedule
posted on the wall:
Using Meditation to Enhance the Submissive
Experience, Creative Bondage, Enhanced Impact Play,
and
Male
Chastity and the Prostate
, were the fist round of workshops.
His heart nearly stopped when he saw Inga at the front of the room
and an audience of at least two-dozen people, mostly couples,
sitting in folding chairs.

Inga’s flashed her perfect, white teeth in a
smile, as Bridget led Nathan to the front of the room. Bridget
kissed her on the cheek and handed her the leash. “I promise to
take good care of him.” Nathan stood stock still, ashamed to make
eye contact with the audience, as Inga removed the robe. “You may
kneel, slave,” she said quietly. Nathan knelt on the floor and cast
his eyes down, dreading what was to come.

“Good morning,” Inga said in a strong voice.
The audience responded. “How many of you practice male chastity?”
Nathan saw a half dozen women raise their hands, along with one,
obviously gay man whose slim, smooth partner was kneeling at his
feet. Three of the couples appeared to be two women. Nathan
suspected they were women and feminized men. The sudden realization
that he’d be powerless to resist if Bridget decided to feminize
him, got his mind off the humiliation that awaited him in minutes.
The feminized men could definitely pass. Two of them were slimmer
and much prettier than their wives.

Inga turned on the LCD projector and an
anatomical diagram of the human male abdomen flashed on the screen.
“The prostate is a walnut-sized gland located between the bladder
and the base of the penis.” She highlighted the salmon -colored
image on the screen with a red laser-pointer. “The prostate is just
in front of the rectum. The urethra passes through it, from the
bladder to the penis, allowing urine to flow from the body. This is
why prostate enlargement affects urination in older men. During
ejaculation, the prostate secretes fluid that nourishes and
protects sperm cells. This fluid combines with fluid from the
testes to form semen.” She shut down the projector.

“Expelling prostate fluid on a regular basis
is important for a male to remain healthy. This is an issue for
couples who practice chastity and orgasm control, but it needn’t be
an obstacle. Regular prostate massage, promotes good health,
reinforces the submissive partner’s dependence, and can be very
humiliating.” Nathan froze for an instant when Inga picked up his
leash. He crawled beside her to the massage table, ashamed to look
up. She patted the table. He climbed on it and remained on his
hands and knees. She placed her palm on the small of his back.
“Let’s get these off you,” Inga said as she pulled the white briefs
down, exposing his buttocks and caged penis. “This is Mistress
Bridget’s slave.” She pulled them down to his knees, and then all
the way off, leaving him wearing only the white, sleeveless tee
shirt. “As you can see, she uses a steel chastity device to control
stimulation of his penis and his ability to get an erection. She is
cuckolding him and denying him orgasms.”

Nathan heard more than one gasp from the
audience, and lots of whispers. “Mistress Bridget is attending Dark
Quest to learn prostate milking techniques. She brought her slave
here today, and kindly offered him to me for this demonstration.”
Nathan winced at the sound of vinyl gloves slapping against her
wrists. “Good hygiene enhances the experience. I administered a two
quart enema a little over an hour ago.” She placed her gloved hand
between Nathan’s shoulder blades. “Rest your head on your
forearms,” she whispered.

“Vinyl gloves and a good quality lubricant
are all you really need to get started.” She placed a small towel
on the bench. “I’m using a towel to catch the secretions, but some
doms like to capture the discharge in a condom or glass, and make
the sub to ingest it, as a further sign of their dominance.” Nathan
cringed at the sound of lubricant squirting from a tube. “The
easiest way to remember hand positioning is this: if the sub is
facing you want your palm up, and you want to move your finger this
way, in the
come here
signal. If the sub is facing away,
it’s palm down. In this instance which do I use?”

“Palm down,” the class said in unison.

“Very good!” Nathan held his breath as Inga
rubbed lube between his buttocks and across his anus. He gasped as
she inserted one, and then two fingers. “I’m only going to use one
finger to massage his prostate, but I’m using two fingers to open
him up first.” Nathan took in a deep breath through his nose and
tried to relax. He flinched when she first pressed against his
prostate, afraid he’d urinate.

“Relax, slave. I see I’m in the right place,”
Inga whispered. Nathan felt precum ooze from his penis into the
Steelheart. His anus tightened on Inga’s finger in spite of his
effort to relax. He felt a dribble from his penis, followed by a
weak stream. “Notice the semen dripping from his chastity device,”
Inga told the students. “By massaging the prostate, I’m stimulating
it to expel its contents.” Nathan began panting like a dog.

“Is the slave having an orgasm?” a woman
asked.

“No, that’s the beauty of prostate milking.”
Inga continued as Nathan writhed, semen dripping on the towel. “We
have the health benefit of ejaculation, without the emotional
benefit. This slave has been locked in chastity for several months.
He is kept in a constant state of sexual hunger. This does nothing
to satisfy that hunger.” A steady, weak stream flowed from Nathan’s
flaccid penis and out of the Steelheart. He tried not to groan and
rotate his hips, but was helpless to stop himself. Five minutes
seemed like five hours, until Inga removed her finger and peeled
off her gloves.

“I generally don’t allow slaves to clean up
immediately afterward. The sensation of lubricant on their anus and
cold semen inside the chastity device provides further humiliation
and reminds them how low they have fallen. I do however make them
clean up the area. In this case I won’t, due to the circumstances.
Mistress Bridget, I’m finished with your slave.” Nathan slid off
the bench and crawled beside Bridget to her seat, face burning hot,
ashamed to make eye contact with the other attendees.

CHAPTER SIX

“Inga is joining us for dinner Friday evening
at Felipe’s.” Nathan closed the dishwasher and turned the timer.
“She’s bringing a date.” Bridget’s smile sent a chill up his bare
back. “A slave she calls
Humilus
.” Nathan remembered enough
Latin from school to understand the significance.
Humilus
meant the
humiliated one
, or the
punished one
. “I
like it, and think I might come up with a name for you.
Slave
seems so impersonal.” Bridget sat on the couch and
turned on her iPad. Nathan quietly took his place on the floor at
her feet and pondered dinner at the French restaurant with
Inga.

*****

The burley maitre d’ beamed the instant he
saw Bridget. “Bonsoir, Madame Kelly, comment allez-vous?” She
air-kissed him on both cheeks.

“Bien merci, Paul,” Bridget said glowing.
“Comment ca va?”

“Bien! Bien! I believe your friend Inga is
already at your table.” He led them to a private alcove with only
one table. Inga was dressed in a black pencil skirt and a crisp
white cotton blouse that accented her figure. Her slave Humilus,
stood behind his chair eyes cast down. He looked to be in his early
twenties, a bit younger than Nathan, tall, handsome, with black
hair and an olive complexion. The maitre d’ took their drink order
and scurried off.

“So this is Humilus?” Bridget looked him over
like a horse trader. A pang of jealousy stabbed Nathan. The young,
handsome man could have come off the cover of GQ. “How did you
meet?”

“He attended my afternoon session at Dark
Quest with his girlfriend. She didn’t have the strength or stamina
to totally dominate a man like him. I stole him from her. It was
like taking candy from a baby.”

“Do you keep in chastity?” Inga looked at her
handsome slave like a Queen at her prize stallion.

“Not yet anyway, I’m testing his sexual
vigor.” Nathan stared down at his plate. Bridget and Inga drifted
between English and French during the four-course dinner.

“Would you follow me home for an after dinner
drink?” Bridget asked. Inga smiled; her cheeks pink with wine.

“I’d love to, dear. We can catch up on things
and I can show you my Humilus.” Nathan’s face flushed hot at the
thought of the humiliation that awaited him.

“I love the name. I want to come up with one
for my slave.” Bridget glanced at Nathan. He quickly looked
away.

*****