Descent Into Oral Servitude

The crowd’s eagerness to know what was coming next was only matched by my own anxiety which was compounded as she whispered to me.

“You owe me this you shit.”

She turned back towards the body of the hall and stood imperiously.

“I need a volunteer.”

The ensuing screaming was enough to hurt my ears but finally she picked out a blonde woman who looked intent on crushing people in her rush to the stage.

“Come on up, and bring a chair.”

The woman looked to be in her thirties. Her hair had been bleached once too often and her skillfully made up face could not quite disguise her losing battle with time. She wore a sleeveless dress which did as much as it could for her solid build but she was typical of the woman who has found herself running to fat and was now attempting to put things right in the gym. Her smile was broad as she mounted the dais carrying her chair. Claudia took it from her and placed it directly in front of me.

“Hold his head up.”

The blonde needed no second bidding but I think it came as a surprise to both Claudia and I as she grabbed hold of the cowl and ripped it from my head. I started to protest but she took hold of a handful of my hair and pulled my head up painfully against the yoke. The audience buzzed with curiosity and from somewhere near the front I heard one woman clearly say,

“No …she wouldn’t dare.”

But I knew, now, just what she intended and I had no doubt that she would dare. As I looked she unfastened the poppers that held the leather cache-sex that formed part of her basque. The audience was almost silent as she peeled it away to reveal her completely shaved pudenda. She paused for effect and then exuded a frightening self assurance as she moved the chair closer to the pillory and then stepped over it to sit with her legs parted.

“What do you think the boys at the office would make of this?”

Her mocking tone pricked me to anger.

“You can’t make me do this.”

“You think not?”

She reached down, picked up the discarded cane, and handed it to the blonde.

“Hurt him, and keep hurting him until I get what I want.”

The reaction from the audience was mixed. A few were still quiet, a little unsure, but the majority began to shout their approval. I cast a look upwards to where the blonde stood surveying the cane. I could see that Claudia had chosen well. Her volunteer was looking me over with a relish that would have done a cannibal proud. She moved behind me, out of sight, and then she struck.

“ARRgghh!”

She struck me across the backside but I immediately appreciated that the trick was not just in the padding. It was obvious that Claudia had been holding back to some extent but the blonde had no such qualms. She struck me again and it felt like being hit with a rubber hose. The impact could be heard right across the room and it was greeted with renewed cheering.

“Are you ready to start?”

As she said it Claudia slid forward in the chair and lifted her legs allowing them to rest over the yoke. My head was now between her thighs and her sex was just a couple of inches from my face.

“What are you waiting for? Don’t you want to show these ladies how you show a girl a good time?”

Stubborn pride got the better of me momentarily and I refused to co-operate but the blonde rose to the challenge. The cane thrashed through the air with a frightening whooping sound and she struck me so hard that I was driven painfully forward. My mouth brushed against Claudia’s smooth mound and I could smell just how turned on she was.

“Good boy. Lick it for me.”

The crowd noise reached a new crescendo as they saw me surrender. I put out my tongue and started to lick at her salmon-pink labia inducing her to part her legs even further.

“Get your tongue in.”

I heard this as a command but the blonde heard it as an admonition and she responded with another vicious stroke of the cane. I immediately speared my tongue and pushed through her labia to the hot wet tunnel within. Claudia allowed her imperious demeanour slip for a moment as she gave a grateful moan and, spurred on by this, I worked my tongue up towards her clitoris. It was tiny, and hard to latch on to, but it seemed that she simply had the usual number of nerve endings crammed into a smaller area. When I found my target the result was immediate.

“Yesss!”

Claudia grabbed my hair with one hand and pulled me more tightly to her. I sucked and licked with my new found skills and even the roar of the crowd was approving. The blonde laid on a couple of less full bloodied strokes and it seemed that she had more interest in my oral technique than in the fun to be had in hurting me especially when Claudia came to a screaming orgasm.

When she had recovered she got up from the chair and refastened her basque and having already far exceeded the audiences expectation of the evenings entertainment there was now a hiatus. I hoped that she would bring proceedings to a close but the blonde had other ideas as she handed back the cane. As Claudia took hold of it the blonde lifted up her dress and pulled down her panties.

“Now it’s my turn.”

“No way!”

Claudia looked down at me as I shouted, and, for a moment she seemed unsure, but the crowd began to chant.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!”

She looked out at them and then, slowly, she smiled.

“Yes…why not?”

“Claudia, undo this thing and let me out now!”

The blonde was already settling into the chair and, as she lifted her legs over the yoke, I was made too horridly aware that it was not her natural hair colour. Her sex was covered by an unkempt thatch of light brown hair which seemed in keeping with the sour, slightly unclean, smell that emanated from her. I turned my head to look at Claudia.

“Please, not this, you’ve had your revenge.”

“You wouldn’t want to be a spoilsport would you?”

Her smile, as she said it, was cruel and I cursed her through gritted teeth.

“You bitch!”

Her smile turned to anger in an instant and she pulled up my head by the hair.

“That was a very stupid thing to say.”

The blonde lost patience and pulled herself forward burying my face in her unsavoury womanhood but I refused to co-operate. She rubbed herself over me but I kept my mouth steadfastly and tightly closed.

“He’s not being a good boy.”

“Oh, he will be, don’t you worry.”

Claudia’s reply came from somewhere behind me and, a fraction later, I felt the Hessian trousers being yanked violently down to my ankles. The crowd loved it and probably would have loved it more had they realized exactly what it meant. I instinctively yelled out, forgetting for a moment the appalling consequences, but one taste was enough to make me quickly close my mouth again.

I tried to get up into a half crouch so that I could move my body but the pain in my, still fragile, neck was too great. I fell back to my knees and shifted to one side but it was to no avail. I had a split second to register the whooping of the cane before pain exploded across my bare buttocks. In the next two minutes she struck me five more times, each stroke more powerful than the last, and I tearfully appreciated that she was a mistress of her craft. The audience could not get enough and I sensed that they had, by now, all left their seats and moved closer to the front.

“I still not getting it…”

The blonde was right. There was no way she was getting it from me no matter how much pain Claudia inflicted.

“…Come on baby, don’t be coy. Can’t you see how hot you’re making me?”

She continued to smear herself all over my face even as she spoke and I decided that if Claudia hit me one more time I was going to bite the bitch and damn the consequences. The audience quietened down and I hoped that it reflected their disappointment in my unwillingness to perform but I had misjudged badly. It was a hush of awe and the reason became apparent in the next few seconds. I heard it snaking in the air and knew an instant of pure terror as I suddenly understood what was going to happen. The lash of the bullwhip impacted across my buttocks with a sickening crack and in the blink of an eye a pain beyond imagining traveled to every extremity of my body. For a second or two I was in shock but then the pain rolled back over me like a wave from a beach. In my minds eye I saw my buttocks cleaved in two like an overripe fruit and I waited for the flow of blood.

“Do I have to do it again?”

Her tone told me that there was to be no mercy. She was prepared to carry on for as long as it took me to obey but she knew, as I did, that one stroke was enough. It was with extreme loathing that I out put my tongue and began the sickening task.

“Good boy, that’s more like it.”

The blondes speech was as coarse as the thicket that I now tried to penetrate with my tongue and I felt an almost overwhelming urge to do her harm but I calmed myself and did what had to be done. She had loose, prominent, labia and she liked to have them licked. This became obvious as she shifted in her seat preventing me from getting to her clitoris too quickly. I carried on mechanically for some time but, for her, my lack of enthusiasm was more than compensated for by the fact she had me at her mercy and had an audience to witness it. Eventually she wanted more and, using the yoke for leverage, she pulled herself more tightly against my face. My tongue was now deep inside her and her stale scent, which, up to then, I had barely managed to tolerate, suddenly threatened to overcome my gag reflex.

If her labia were slack her sex itself seemed cavernous and, to my demented mind, it carried echoes of the hundreds of men that I believed had gone before. I knew I had to get it over with as quickly as possible and I pressed upwards towards her clitoris only to find that it was indistinct. I licked in the general area like a man possessed and it seemed to have the desired effect. She pushed herself against me with a painful ferocity and began to scream expletives as she came unheedingly against my face.

When it was over I no longer had the strength to hold my head up but this did not stop her taking further advantage of me. Much to the amusement of her friends she used my hair to clean her sex and It was at that point that I felt that I could stoop no lower. In that moment of surrender my mind floated free for a few blissful seconds but I was brutally dragged back to reality as the blonde got to her feet. She fixed her clothing and shouted to the throng as she stepped down from the dais.

“Who’s next!”

As I looked into their midst I felt like the exhausted impala facing a pack of excited hyenas. Almost to a woman they clamoured to volunteer but even Claudia could see that the situation was threatening to spin out of control. She cracked her whip through the air, which served to restore order for a moment, and then she unfastened the padlock.

“Go back to the changing room.”

I needed no second bidding. I pulled up my trousers and quickly left the stage accompanied by ugly howls of disappointment. I feared, for a moment, that the mob would come after me but Claudia was already making an announcement.

“Ladies! If you’ll retake your seats, it will be “The Dream Boys” right up next!”

The prospect of a troupe of male strippers seemed to be enough to placate them and I made my exit. Once back in the changing room I took a long shower but no amount of water could cleanse me of the dirtiness I felt or cool the heat of pain in my buttocks. As I got dressed Claudia came in and she too had showered and changed. Her wet hair was tied up in a tight chignon leaving her neck bare and I could feel my hands being drawn to strangle her.

“You haven’t heard the last of this.”

Her reply was as scornful as her expression.

“I’d be careful with idle threats. A lot of those women had cameras and at least two were shooting videos. Do you want copies sent to you?”

Chapter 5

I returned to the hotel and, feeling too tired to eat, I tried sleeping. The pain was receding but I woke every time I turned onto my back. Such sleep as I did get was punctuated by nightmares and by the time morning came I felt washed out. I breakfasted in the hotel and consoled myself with the thought that things could have been worse. If any of the women had noticed the cock tube they had not commented on it or, worse still, tried to interfere with it

I went into the office early hoping that Marcia would be in. As I walked into her office she looked up and smiled.

“How did it go last night?”

I looked into her eyes, wondering how much she knew, but her expression did not tell me anything one way or another.

“We got things sorted out. Look, I need a couple of hours this morning. My neck hurts and I want to get it checked out.”

“No problem, take as long as you need.”

“Thanks.”

I went straight to my dealing desk and fired up my web browser. I began to search for radiologists in private practice and soon had the numbers of a couple of clinics. I switched off the PC and left the building in search of a taxi. Fifteen minutes later I was in the reception of the Van Groot Radiological Clinic asking for Dr. Ramesh. The receptionist was a young, attractive, coloured girl and her presence did nothing to put me at ease. I explained that I did not have an appointment and that I was there as a matter of some delicacy.

I was asked to take a seat whilst she phoned through and I got the distinct impression that she was trying not to laugh. Having put the phone down she told me to go right on through and I took her directions to an office at the rear of the building. I found the room, knocked, entered and almost came right back out again. Dr Ramesh turned out to be a, petite, Indian woman who, judging by her age, must have been newly qualified.

She seemed amused by my obvious hesitation but she quickly became very business-like.

“I’m told that you are here on a delicate matter. I’ll make two things clear to you. Twenty minutes of my time will cost you one hundred and twenty and a further thirty for the cost of the plate. You pay this now either by cash or credit card. Secondly, I am not a medical doctor, I do not do extractions.”

I looked at her bemused.

“I’m assuming that you are here because you have something lodged in your person?”

“Lodged?...Oh God, no.”

“Then?”

I gave my prepared speech.

“I was having a stag night. My friends thought it would be amusing to lock me up. The trouble is they didn’t settle for handcuffs.”

“I see, or at least I think I do, you’d better show me.”

In her white coat she looked every inch the professional, albeit a very beautiful one, but I found it hard to overcome my natural inhibitions. Finally, having decided that I had come too far to back out now, I lowered my trousers.

“That’s what you want x-rayed?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, excuse me just one moment. Cash or credit card?”

“Credit card.”

She left the room and, shortly after I swear I could hear laughter from somewhere down the corridor. She quickly returned and, before I could adjust my clothing, the receptionist followed her in. Her knowing gaze went straight to my groin.

“Please give Alison your credit card and follow me through.”

With my trousers half way up my legs I fished awkwardly for my wallet and handed over my Amex card. Alison left, her shoulders shaking with repressed laughter, and I followed Ramesh into the adjacent room which contained an array of x-ray equipment. For the next few minutes she was briskly professional. She had me arrange myself on a flat x-ray plate and then took the exposure. Ten minutes later she had the negative in front of her.

“I fear we have a problem.”

My heart began to beat more quickly.

“What sort of problem?”

“Would you mind if I tested something?”

She took a device from her desk which resembled a voltmeter. She switched it on and ran it over my groin and it immediately made a crackling sound which rose and fell as she moved it.

“As I thought.”

“Doctor, what’s going on?”

“See for yourself….”

She showed me the x-ray. My manhood was clearly delineated but the tube showed up as an indistinct white smudge and there was certainly nothing of its inner workings revealed..

“… I’m guessing that your tube originated in the Middle East. A lot of ore from that region comes from strata that sit on or near the water table which can be naturally tritiumated.”

She saw my puzzled expression and continued.

“Tritium is a naturally occurring radioactive element.”

“You’re saying the tube is radioactive?”

“To a degree. We often have to ask our Middle Eastern clients to remove their jewellery before taking an exposure.”

My next question was both natural and anxious.

“Can it harm me?”

“If you wore it continually for tens of years maybe. Tritium is used harmlessly in luminous watches. The trouble is it messes up x-rays. However, there is some good news. We could do an ultra-sound scan.”

I thought about this for a moment.

“Would sound waves cause the metal to vibrate?”

“Yes, but there would be no discomfort.”

Discomfort was not the problem. With Karen’s talk of hidden triggers I did not want to vibrate the tube unnecessarily no matter how imperceptible the movement was. With that I gave my thanks and took my leave of a very puzzled Dr. Ramesh.

I took a walk in the park to think things through. It was clear that the tube was not going to be routinely removed by any of the regular emergency services, certainly if they were unable to x-ray it first. Whoever I approached would call in experts and I was sure they would explore ways of unlocking it before resorting to invasive techniques. In the normal course of events one of those experts might well have been Karen and I saw many awkward questions being asked. Whatever our differences I did not want to bring charges of assault against her. I was lead to the inevitable conclusion that I would have to consult an expert myself.

So it was that I found myself outside The Ottoman Museum. At the desk I asked to speak to Dr Gillian Greaves suggesting that I might have something of interest to her. As I waited I knew that if Karen could see me she would cheerfully put a gun to my head and pull the trigger. If she could be thought to have an arch rival in her particular field of study it would be Gillian Greaves.

A secretary came down and escorted me to Dr. Greaves’ office which was much as I would have imagined it; expensively oak paneled with objet d’arts displayed tastefully throughout. Dr Greaves sat well in this setting. She was in her early fifties but if she had chosen to dye her hair she could have passed for years younger. She must have been quite a beauty in her heyday but now she looked very much the academic. Her graying hair was cut very short to frame a face which was almost free of makeup.

“Mr .. Nevis, take a seat, how can I help you?”

“I have something that I think might interest you.”

I started to describe the tube watching her face for any hint of a reaction. She did not interrupt and allowed me to finish before she spoke.

“Let me start by saying that, if you are in possession of such an object, and it was genuine, the museum would be most interested.”

“Then you have heard of it?”

“There are stories of the Sultana Neylan. When her son was eleven years old her husband died and she was ruling as regent until he achieved his majority. Unfortunately, she did not make a good politician and abused her position to further her enjoyment of the pleasures of the flesh. She particularly lusted after Sevilan, a general in the Turkish army and reputedly the most handsome man in the empire. Unfortunately, he was already married to Akasma a woman of equally legendary beauty. Neylan was frustrated but even she realized that she could not afford to create a schism in the army.