The Tickle Dungeons Pt. 02

DUNNISUROM - THE MARRIAGE DISTRICT - CAIS

Cais' mother had asked for a carriage without padded seats so that every bump or crevice both aggravated his spanked buttocks and reminded him of the large, thick metallic plug in his anus. Cais, scion of the great house Verah, gritted his teeth, each cobblestone feeling like a reminder of his status as a submissive groom to the Dame Knight.

By his feet, Yais, his "pet slave," was dressed in tight, but otherwise modest clothes. A shirt with a high neck, and leather pants, like riding pants. Her collar was done in bright colors with a fur lining and a clasp with a key-lock that she could probably have picked--but was done more for show than for security. She looked up at him as he grimaced.

"Don't worry about me," he said.

"I wasn't--but an uncomfortable master means an uncomfortable pet-girl," she said.

He gave a bit of a laugh. "Mother is getting a bit carried away with this, isn't she?" he ran a hand through her hair.

He knew that her pride against being petted had been well worn over the months since she was placed under "permanent" pet-punishment. Still, the fact that she, on some level, enjoyed the attention stung in an entirely different manner. Her panties were treated with chemicals to display different colors at distinct levels of arousal. At night, when they came off, he could measure her daily trials of sexual frustration.

Bump! Oh! Ugh!

"Your mother is having her dreams of a submissive daughter's marriage carried out through you," Yais said. "Given that your three older sisters are all dominant bitches." Yais knew this well: she'd been on the receiving end of them.

He blushed and nodded. Cais wasn't what Yais would've thought of as a submissive. No--he was a well trained, highly educated son of a great house--but compared to the Dame Knight Listily, he was unquestionably the girl in the relationship--something the fearsome Dame Knight was well and fully aware of.

The carriage came to a stop. "Well," he sighed, getting up. The plug in his rear gave him a feeling of fullness and weight--but he bore it and managed to walk without waddling too much. Yais followed him down onto the pavement. She crawled, and he held the leash to her collar.

The shop was up a flight of exterior stairs. Around them on the street were dressmakers, collar makers, and veil artisans. There were women who did cosmetics and hair. There were fortune-tellers who could, it was claimed, auger a union and tell if it was for good or ill.

Cais went up the stairs with Yais following behind him on all fours. She'd been modified with magical Art to be able to crawl on all fours without difficulty or undue muscle strain and to have expanded senses: especially smell. The door had a sign showing a bride smiling in a fine dress and next to her, the view from behind where the dress did not cover her at all and showed off her skin marked with stripes from a switch across her thighs and buttocks as well as some on her back and calves!

"Blushing Brides. Humiliation Wedding Planner," Cais read. "Miss Emily Turnbolt." He drew in a breath and pushed through the door as the bells tolled Nonis.

"You're cutting it close," the woman at the desk inside smirked. "I punish my subjects for being late!" She did smile, though. A handsome boy as a subject was quite the rarity for her, Yais guessed.

She stood and walked around the desk.

"Sorry, Miss Turnbolt," Cais said. "We came up directly when the carriage arrived."

"I know," she said, squatting by Yais. "If I'd seen you dithering outside, you'd go over my spanking couch straight away! Now--step up on the block there and take off everything you can get off! Oh, and since you're a boy, if everything isn't nicely folded and hung, we'll have a punishment!"

"Yes, Miss Turnbolt," Cais said, doing a good job of suppressing a sigh. He begin to quickly remove his shirt.

"And what about us, pet-girl?" Miss Turnbolt turned her attention to Yais, who was less and less comfortable being the center of attention.

"About us?" Yais asked.

The young woman stroked her hair and down her back. "Are we thrilled to see master being humiliated--or are we fierce and loyal?"

Oh! She swallowed--"Yais-pet is--uh--ohh--uh--"

"Tell her the truth, Yais," Cais said, removing his shoes and placing them on a nearby shelf. "It's okay."

"Hush, you" snapped Miss Turnbolt.

"Yais-pet is loyal," Yais decided. A pause. "Yais-pet doesn't mind seeing Master get punished though." The woman smiled, broadly. Good girl! And Yais-pet is under punishment, yes?"

"Ugh. Yes, Miss Turnbolt, Yais-pet is always under punishment."

"Right!" said a pleased Miss Turnbolt. "Miss Emily will 'sharpen her claws' on Yais-pet then!'"

Yais fought not to grimace or look unhappy about this "service" that was being rendered to her and glanced up at Cais. He stood, naked. Trim, muscled. His hands clasped behind him, he looked like a statue save for the glittering cock-cage he wore. It had a thick ring that locked around his scrotum and a thin chain that ran along his taint back to his anus where the plug. His buttocks were also a darker shade of pink than the rest of his skin. His mother's ministrations.

He was blushing, though. Miss Turnbolt stood, walking over and examining him. She gave him a hard swat on his buttocks. He jumped slightly in surprise.

"When you're sent to me, sweetness," she purred. SMAK! "It's because you need to thoroughly understand," Pow! "Your place in this union!" Whap!

Yais saw him grit his teeth stoically--but it was clear the swats hurt! She rubbed his buttocks. "Your big day is going to be showing everyone what a nice," Pow! "submissive," Whap! "well-behaved," smack! "little groom you are!" she rubbed. Yais saw tears sparkle in his eyes.his cock was thick in the cage. She cupped him, holding his cock and scrotum in her palm.

Yais knew that caging brought a long, frustrating misery. Yais felt it too--but she expected it and sought to masturbate in secret in the (very) rare times she could. For a caged boy there wasn't even that. He had to be submissive and obedient and hope for his mistress's mercy the same way a girl in a belt would--and he was constantly troubled by it.

"Dame Listily wants us to get used to having a cry," she said more gently. "To being the least important person in the room--to waiting behind the girls to speak--" Her rubbing at his buttocks was clearly feeling good and Yais watched him squirm every-so-slightly, as his cock reacted to her touch, punishing him.

"On your union day," she purred, "you are going to be like a young trainee slave to her--entitled to nothing save direction, domination, and discipline." Her fingers gently massaged his anus and perineum. "Over time you will become her partner--always beneath her--eager for her attention in the form of discipline--your sexual needs rightly ignored entirely to service her's." He groaned.

"Your cock, your mouth, your anus are for her pleasure. Yours is an afterthought." He moaned, his voice creaking with tears. "As she enjoys spanking you buttocks, or worse, you will eagerly be spanked by her--even though you may not bear the pain or the humiliation!"

His breath was ragged now, nearly sobbing. The lecture was working on him. Yais knew well that this, or some version of it, was told to girls commonly--but for a boy, especially of his stature...

"That's right," she said. SMACK!

"OW!" his voice was soft and high.

"Get used to crying those pretty little eyes out."

"Ohhh--" he moaned.

"Girls," she called. "Take his measurements--spare him nothing."

Two cute young women, clearly sisters, entered the room with slates and measuring tape. The one with the tape held a small paddle as well, and she greeted him with a good hard slap on his buttocks.

"I hope you'll have a cry for me," she taunted. When he sniffled, she smacked him with the paddle again. "Your treatment here is to ensure you remember your place. You can't--" POW! "behave your way out of it!"

Yais was led away by the woman, and heard Cais yelp as one of the girls begin using a speculum to measure his "maximal anal circumference."

"Master is in excellent hands," Miss Turnbolt assured Yais. "The girls are skilled in giving our subjects a good cry and then some very intimate aftercare. Your master is planning to marry a very, very dominant girl. She's right to want him tested to see if he can bear being in a humbling relationship. I get girls in here who are sure they're marrying below their status when they really aren't. Those are the ones who fight and so regret it. Master Cais is going to be a dear, I can tell," she reassured Yais. Another yelp from the room.

"They're just irrigating his bottom," Miss Turnbolt said.

In the room were a set of dressmaker's dummies all outfitted with different models of wedding diapers and chastisement belts, a painting showed a boy being led down an aisle, his pants parted in front to admit his uncontrolled erection which the woman pulled him along by.

In another painting, a woman squatted in an ornate dress. She was sucking the cock of her groom up at the front of the audience. The artist had captured the fiery blush on her cheeks and her wide, wet eyes as she struggled to take his cock in front of everyone. She was taken to the corner where she sat, listening to the soft sounds of complaint as the two sisters worked over her master.

"We'll have an endurance painting done," Miss Turnbolt told Yais. "An itchy cock might be a good ordeal for him to have to smile through!" She gave Yais a smirk. A set of fine, supple leather tawses with script names stitched into them in bright pink were sitting amid fine tissue parchment awaiting inspection for someone else's ceremony.

"Mistress Listily is right to have the humiliation service," she said. "Your master needs to be checked for his level of compliance and humiliation. If he is going to rebel under her guidance and control, she'd best know now!"

Yais was listening--she understood that the idea of a humiliation-union for a girl was well understood--but for a boy seemed strange and unfair. She'd met the Dame Knight, though, and casting Cais as the willful young woman in this was quite reasonable. She wasn't thrilling to the sounds of his dismay from the other room--but she wasn't outranged on his behalf either.

THE ASTROLOGERS'S TOWER -- DR. RINEBACH

Dr. Rinebach peered into the eyepiece of the elaborate telescope pointed up into the sky over DunnisUrom. It had golden designs over its blue metal frame and its dark lenses pointed at an empty spot in the clouldless, daytime sky. He was 'balls-deep' in the anus of Cati, his head student, and he could tell his sizeable cock was causing her substantial discomfort. Good.

He made a face. Nothing on the scope. The cock-root extract tea he'd drank gave him a raging erection--the one Cati's "enjoyment" of was powering the machine right now. He thrust his hips with a soft smack against her buttocks. He heard her soft grunt of pain: he hoped this whole ordeal was painful, degrading, and humiliating for her!

Dr. Rinebach did not believe girls belonged in the higher academy--not in science and not in ancient history. Science had been "built" and "created" by men, had it not? And the ancient world had been run entirely by men, yes? How could a girl understand any such things?

He bucked his hips again, and he heard Cati whimper. Does that hurt, girl? he thought. He looked annoyedly at the eyepiece. He needed to contact one of the moons. The Judgment Moon would be perfect--but they'd messed that up before he got here.

Of course his planned ritual to reaify Dike hadn't gone well either. The ancient being had suffered some kind of internal fault when trying to dominate one of the common girls. Well, the entity had been slumbering for hundreds of years. Some mistakes were to be expected. But now--NOW he needed a special moon--and not the Hunter's Moon. No, if he were going to bag the Dame Knight, he couldn't trust that moon. The Lover's Moon. That one, if he could just blasted find it--that one he could deal with.

His strokes were as even as he could make them--he knew that her anus was aching taking his cock--and he wanted it worse. Again he had used the root tea to give him endurance and as his cock throbbed with urgency, he sought to make her suffer.

Oh, what he would do with the great knight under his thrall. The proud woman crawling on a leash, covered with mud and nightsoil, led naked down the streets. He would harness her so a stallion could mount her--it's cock stretching her horribly with its impossible girth. While she struggled, he would take her mouth. gagging her. When he spent, it would be in her face--and she would wear it for weeks until it peeled off itself! Oh--he would spank her hourly! He would make her cry and crawl and beg--and then he would do it again!

The girl clenched her buttocks and he heard her moan--and then--shit--fuck! Ohhhh!! He spent in her rear channel. Dr. Rinebach grunted and pulled out. POW! WHAP

"Ow! Doctor!!" she cried out. She was slotted into the machine, only her bare buttocks and legs sticking out. Inside she could see a curved mirror that showed her what he saw in the eyepiece--just not as magnified.

He wiped his cock on her buttocks and threw the release lever.

She came out, knowing better than to drop her robe to cover her rear.

She went down on her knees and opened her mouth to start cleaning him. He let her. His cadre of four girls were quite well dominated by him--and each of them, he assumed, felt she was lucky to be one of the chosen ones to work in the rarified realms of ancient science that he pursued.

As they were his assistants and apprentices, he was entitled to their use and he used them in every way he could think of. If his sponsor wanted girls trained? Well, he would train them, alright.

Tasa, his lead girl, stood by with a fresh smock, watching her fellow work hard on his cock, hoping he didn't decide to urinate in her throat. He didn't and he stepped back. "Fine," he told her.

Tasa presented the clothes. "You did not see the moon, master?"

"If it's there, where the astrologers think it is," he said, "it's hidden from this telescope." He eyed the big machine critically. Maybe the astrologers should recheck their equations."

"Master?"

"Mmm?" He glanced back at Tasa.

"What if a girl looked?"

"We had a girl looking." He gave Cati a soft smack on the head.

"I mean in the eyepiece, master?"

He was annoyed--doubly so that she might have a point. Women were sometimes more attuned to the moon--during their menses or 'humors' as they were called up here--and other times. Plus the moons or at least the things that inhabited them could speak and often represented one of the female aspects of the "real" moon.

"Mmph." He considered sending her to some demeaning task for having brought this up--but... the stupid thing ought to be there. He stroked his chin. He looked at the machine.

"Do they have one powered for boys?"

She blushed.

"They have one a girl using it can power. It has a seat with... a prod."

He grunted and nodded. "We should do it in the dark if there are few enough clouds. It'll be easier for her to see it."

She curtsied. He nodded. He made a mental note to have her in his bed either tomorrow or the night after. He had spent in Cati--but not well. He was inclined to take his time and take his pleasure--and it would be unpleasant enough that Tasa would know that presenting him, even with a good idea, was a poor form for a young lady.

Plus, he didn't exactly understand it--something about the female mentality--but the girls seemed to do well with their demeaning positions under him. She might not like what he made her do in bed--but she wanted attention from him. Well, she'd get it now.

He harrumphed and put his still eager--but now flaccid--penis away. The cock-root tea was nasty stuff.

He sent the girls to polish down the telescope machine and went to the arch that led into the central nonagon. He took a breath and stepped through it. The room was wood paneled over stone and each of the nine sides had an identical arch in it. Through each of them, he saw the same telescope room.

It was some kind of Art, he knew. The specifics were secret. He rang a bell and a young man in hooded cloak with astrological symbols and alchemical sigils patterned on it stepped out of one of the archways. The robe didn't entirely close and Dr. Reinbach could see he wore under it only a metal belt with an ornate mechanical cod piece.

It was some kind of exotic mortification. The Astrologer Masters were in competition to determine who could immiserate their apprentices the best.

The boy bowed low. "Master?"

"Take me to the Scrying Council Room," he commanded.

"Yes, master." The boy bowed again and led him through another doorway that looked like it opened back into the telescope chamber where the girls were cleaning the mechanisms.

Instead, when Dr. Reinbach stepped through, he was in a shadowed stairwell with a spiral stair. The boy started to descend and Dr. Reinbach followed. He knew very well that the Scrying Council Room was on the same level as the observatory he'd come from--but he understood the mechanisms of the tower were complex and secretive.

They exited out of an arch and down a hall. In an alcove, he saw the same boy he was with now, naked, but for the codpiece, facing out, in the arms of a female statue that embraced him from behind. The statue girl had a dog-like face, with a horned head. The statue, he could vaguely see, wore a strap-on penis that impaled his buttocks, and rivulets of grease ran down the boy's thighs as he moaned soflty and undulated on the stone cock.

In another alcove, the boy's belt was altered so its thick mechanism covered most of his buttocks and anal cleft and his own penis entered the tube of a clockwork machine and, again, he moaned and writhed as it stroked and pumped.

Around the corner, the alcove contained the same boy, eyes wide, on his knees. His mouth was opened around a rubber spigot. His head was strapped with rubber belts that connected him to the nipple so he could not escape it or even dislodge it from his mouth. The mechanical "belt" entirely covered his region like a clock-work diaper. Two bellows swelled and then slowly deflated with liquid sounds from the interior of the machine the spigot came from. He was clearly swallowing as rapidly as he could as some fluid was pumped into his mouth.

Dr. Reinbach stared as he went past.

"Do you see something you like, master?" the boy's question was lined with hints of suggestion.

"I am not sure," he said, a bit stiffly.

"There are more," the boy indicated another corridor that retreated from them, the bluish stone walls and brass water-lights making it look eerie and unreal. There was a faint fog on the ground that licked around their boots.

"Just take me to the Scrying Council Room," Dr. Reinbach said, irritated. He preferred girls--but his cock, it seemed, still under the influence of the root-tea was interested in something here.

The boy bowed and padded down the corridor.

He heard the snap of a whip and a girl's cry. Probably a girl's cry, he thought. To the left was a triangular room and he could see three of the same girl--not mirrors--triplets? All suspended on X-racks around a hole in the floor with a spiral staircase going down. Each of them had a great, grotesque spider clinging to them between their legs. The eight-legged, multi-eyed monstrositites pranced and scampered. Each was well larger than a man's hand and the girls struggled and cried out, their pleading muffled by some art. He watched the spider on one sink its fangs against its girl's skin around her clitoris and she arched and struggled as hard as she could.