The Party Boy Read online

  Thereafter the camera comes to focus on a naked patient. He stands, neck and wrists encumbered by a yoke hanging from chains, evidently attached at the ceiling. Suddenly there comes a spray of water, apparently cold as the man yelps and kicks about in shock. Soaked, two nurses enter the frame, both toting buckets in one hand, stiff brushes in the other.

  “Patients are bathed... harshly. The soap contains depilatory chemicals. The water is cold to suppress urges. We have learned that it is important for all interaction with our young staff to be austere. Patients are not coddled at Institut Für Sexally Abweichenden.”

  The nature of the explanation seems to suggest that the treatment is to be desired, that the viewer should be assured of the patient’s relative discomfort. For indeed, judging from the patient’s reaction, the water is frigid, the soap harsh and the brushes stiff.

  The camerawoman departs. Back into the hallway, more steps.

  “Exercise is mandatory at Institut Für Sexally Abweichenden... and well supervised.”

  A gate opens. Into a courtyard moves the camera. More shock.

  A patient is being walked by a nurse. He wears a waist belt with wrists cuffs, quite similar to a segment of my masturbation harness. Otherwise naked, his nurse holds in her hand a pole of some six feet. At the end is a cloth loop. Within the loop, tightly encircled, is the patient’s scrotum.

  He is being led about by his balls!

  Round and round the courtyard the duo walk, the young woman making encouraging comments in the odd German dialect, probably not fully understood by the patient. It is the motion of her hands that need no translation. She wants the patient well worked and pulls ardently when he slows in exhaustion.

  “Patients are well exercised. The control pole protects the staff member from aggressive behavior such as kicking. We have found that governing the testicles communicates best the staff’s authority.”

  Round and round. And then it happens again. The patient slowly stiffens.

  “This patient will also endure elektronisch abgelassen,” the narrator succinctly suggests as the camera once again focuses on what proves to be a huge erection.

  The camerawoman withdraws. The scene fades. There comes more narration, intending to reassure the viewer of the Institute’s strict regimen.

  “We have never had a patient escape. Our facility is high in the Alps, quite secluded. Visitors are not encouraged as outsiders can affect behavior. We understand that rehabilitation for the sexually deviant is unlikely. Thus we are committed to long term care here at Institut Für Sexally Abweichenden.”

  Just as I am about to attempt a translation of the term ‘elektronisch abgelassen’, the video unexpectedly continues, now in silence. There is a trailer... no audio.

  A patient lies naked and well bound in his Segufix bondage. He sports an erection, encumbered wrists tugging mightily in attempting that nasty male habit. A young nurse enters the room carrying an electrical box, wires dangling.

  In a most direct and clinical manner, the nurse reaches between well spread thighs and lubricates the patient’s anus. A rather stout probe is inserted, a wire leading to the box. The patient is saying something, shouting, his mouth opening widely, his words obviously frantic. The nurse callously ignores, gathering in her hand a control device. She turns a dial on the box, presses a button and the man both lurches spasmodically and ejaculates... the expression on his face one of intense agony... certainly not pleasure.

  Yes, a large wad of sperm shoots upwards, then splashes to soil the broad Segufix waist belt. The mouth opens again, perhaps a plea. The nurse again presses the button. Another lurch, a dribble of sperm. With a third press, energy depleted, the physical reaction is limited... as is the effluent. The patient is well drained.

  With a look of Schadenfreude, the nurse slips out the anal plug and removes the box, otherwise showing not an iota of emotion. As she calmly wipes away the cloudy whiteness, a free hand brazenly toys with the left nipple. The girl appears most sanguine in sending her message of ultimate ownership and control.

  Onto the screen comes a caption... ‘elektronisch abgelassen 40 volt’.

  Alas, I understand the consequences of attaining erection. No further translation needed.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  In viewing the website, Jack’s fate becomes evident. He’s to be tucked away somewhere in the Bavarian Alps, probably never again to see beyond the gray concrete walls of an institute for the sexually deviant.

  Mrs. Lipton has the money and therefore the power to make it happen. It will not be Jack that ever challenges Mr. Lipton’s will. And his questionable sexual deportment will never bring embarrassment to the Lipton name and his Palm Beach socialite stepmother.

  Endless bondage... most strict bondage... cold showers... forced exercise. In thought, not that much different from my regimen. But what will end is the exhilaration of performing for a concupiscent gathering of admiring women.

  Those nurses, though young and pretty, are most strict... both comfortable and aloof in handling the naked male. Not much delight in being exposed to them. And all my training, encouraging Jack to harden and show himself off, humbly display those firm ten inches, at the Institute such will earn him a rectal insertion and the application of forty volts.

  My party boy has entertained at his last party. In a way I am saddened. But for Jack it is probably for the best. I wonder how long it will require to reverse my training. Psychologically, for many years, being naked before fully clothed women has been his primary sexual catalyst.

  Well, so be it. Meanwhile I turn my attention to drafting my latest Craig’s List posting... women seeking men.

  Firm woman seeking young male in need of training and guidance. You, in shape, well hung, desirous of pleasing women with a male package I will make most presentable. Me, stern, medically trained, demanding. Expect chastity and discipline.

  I no longer need the income from CFNM parties. But I do still need the thrill.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Mrs. Lipton’s quarterly payments are wired with exactness, my brimming bank account brimming more. Since I have not to any extent changed my lifestyle the outflow is limited. About the only excess expense, and it’s relatively insignificant, is following up on the myriad of responses to my Craig’s List postings, which unfortunately are more frequent than I’d like.

  It seems Jack is difficult to replace. Many of the boys responding have been college students who have strong maternal ties and, in being away from home for the first time, need a surrogate mother. So I buy them dinner and we talk... though the exchange is probably more akin to an interrogation. If there are possibilities I entice them to my apartment and masturbate them. But there are preliminary intermediate steps of course.

  The first being getting naked, having them serve me in some capacity such as fetching food or drink sans covering. For one Saturday matinee meeting, I had a boy clean my apartment in the nude, toilets included in memory of Jack. Since I am reasonably good at judging sexual needs and the many facets of masochism, most move to the final hurdle for selection, and that is sitting naked on my lap while I massage their prostate and masturbate them into a waiting bowl.

  Having them cede total control and ejaculate for me on cue is the telling attribute. Most come prematurely, some cannot keep their hands out of the process, one or two, though stiff while serving me, soften in fright, despite my penetrating fingers.

  Well, I didn’t think it would be easy. And despite the fact that I do not need the income, I am considering returning to my profession as governess, offering an earlier state in transforming the male psyche to properly respond to the touch of a controlling woman.

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Six months after turning over Jack and his key I receive an email from Mrs. Lipton...

  Thought you’d want to know Jack is well cared for. Lipton355978.

  Her message is succinct and initially gives rise to quandary. Then I remember the clandestine website for Instit
ut Für Sexally Abweichenden. Fortunately I bookmarked the site in my browser for the many letters and numbers are impossible to recall.

  I click away and the page comes up, remaining nearly blank. I type in the code and click the British flag for English. Expecting to once again see the concrete building and privacy warning instead the accented voice offers a different message...

  “You have entered progress video number 3 for patient Jack Lipton at the ‘Institute for the Sexually Deviant’. If you are not the person intended to have viewing privileges you are to turn off this page immediately. This is for private viewing.”

  Interesting, the feed is sui generis to Jack, not for general edification concerning the Institute. And it’s video number 3. Apparently Mrs. Lipton receives regular reports and has decided to share this one with me. The many facets of the internet are intriguing. I envision that cruel smile of Mrs. Lipton as she watches, from a remote distance enjoying the investment of what I am sure are goodly sums expended in assuring Jack’s care.

  Further thoughts are diverted as onto the screen comes Jack, idly lying in the strict bondage of the many Segufix straps. They have removed his leather neck collar. Instead his bald head is frustratingly encapsulated, adding to the thorough immobility as arms and legs are tethered to the point that wriggling fingers and toes is burdensome.

  “Patient Jack spends much time in the comfort of the Segufix restraint system,” the accented female voice narrates... most sardonically in my view. “Patients are at all times bound for safety, our staff thoroughly trained in strict bondage procedures.”

  There comes the rattle of keys. A lock clicks.

  “As all patients at Institut Für Sexally Abweichenden, Jack has a primary care nurse assigned to him. It is she who feeds, bathes with assistance, and exercises him. With many years of experience in treating the sexually deviant, we at the Institute have learned that it is important for the patient to emotionally bond with his nurse. There comes a need for maternal care as the many days of immobility and isolation breaks the cycle of sexual aberration. This need supplants the desire to transgress which has festered over the years.”

  So they mentally break him, my thoughts summarizing the clinical explanation.

  Onto the screen comes a white uniformed nurse. For Jack it must bring pleasant memories. In my years as his governess I was always similarly uniformed.

  The nurse stands to the right side of the bed which occupies the middle of a barren room. She speaks, words not to be understood in that rare German dialect. I am sure not understanding the woman who for the most part is his only contact with the world, is frustrating. But I mentally translate her greeting as ’Good morning’. A hand reaches and toys with Jack’s right nipple. The camera zooms in to focus on the tantalizing touch. The nub crinkles. It is mindful of the tail of a puppy, waggling in joy.

  More words as the pretty girl not so much smiles but instead offers a look of sang-froid. She is in charge. She knows it. She enjoys it. I interpret again... ‘You have slept well?’

  The girl steps away then reappears with a large bowl and oversized spoon.

  “Patients are well fed at the Institute. Forcibly if necessary. It is for the best.”

  Whatever is in the bowl is not overly appealing, judging from Jack’s reaction. He resists... or attempts to... gritting his teeth as a heaping spoonful is offered. The nurse smiles wanly, the thumb and forefinger of her free hand reaching to clamp closed Jack’s nostrils. When he opens his mouth for air, the mush like sustenance is cruelly thrust inward. He sputters, the free hand moving to cover his mouth. He must swallow or choke. He swallows.

  For a woman of youth, the procedure is both harsh and well practiced. The futile attempt is almost expected, the countering effort immediate and effective.

  The screen goes blank for a moment. Then the video resumes. Jack having been fed is freed of the frustrating head straps. In its place, a length of steel, a yoke, encircles his neck. Next the nurse works to free his right wrist from the Segufix strap and secure it within an opening in the yoke. The left wrist follows. Then comes the curious pole which was highlighted during the exercise phase of the introductory video. Some six feet in length, at one end is an adjustable loop of soft cloth. This encircles his scrotum, high at the base of Jack’s penis, the nurse working quite nimbly to tighten.

  Then the pole rests in wait on the bed as the many remaining straps making Jack one with the mattress are loosened.

  Once again the training of the nurse is impressive. At no time was more than one hand freed. And when Jack’s body finally became mobile, the controlling pole was immediately available to offer the desired exacting guidance.

  The nurse speaks again, this time more of a command which I imagine to mean ‘follow’.

  She gently tugs the pole. And with the sensitive male parts so admirably brought under a woman’s dominion, Jack struggles to arise, muscles long held in disuse.

  Sans straps, Jack displays his total nakedness, the conditioning I forced remaining evident. It is then that Jack’s penis begins to firm. Ah... clothed female, naked male... well controlled male, despite the strict regimen Jack’s proclivity prevails... at the Institute considered deviance.

  Holding the pole to the side, the nurse steps forth and applies a vicious smack to the rising penis tip, her finger tips accelerating expertly. Jack cries out. His organ deflates.

  “Patient Jack will later endure elektronisch abgelassen for this breach of protocol,” the accented voice offers as the nurse leads from the room, pulling the pole. With testicles comically rising to follow, Jack obediently follows as well.

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  I click the pause bottom in thought. Jack is approaching age twenty six. Stepmother Judith Lipton is in her early fifties. What arrangements have been made for his care later in life when presumably Mrs. Lipton will pass onwards?

  The narration indicated patients are expected to require a lifetime of treatment, sexual deviancy never assumed to be cured.

  Jack’s trust remains in place. As trustee I have let the funds accumulate with Jack’s confinement and my new found wealth.

  Yes, I will build a nest egg for Jack. Though his care no doubt expensive, it’s possible I will be able to assure the young nurses of Institut Für Sexally Abweichenden will be tormenting... guess I should us the term caring... for Jack well past Mrs. Lipton’s demise.

  I click to resume video number 3, expecting to see Jack being bathed, as was the sequence in the video of introduction. And yes the camera shows him in the cavernous wash room, but he stands not being hosed down and scrubbed with brushes, instead he sits in what can only be described as a large gynecological examination chair... yoke remaining, ankles and thighs strapped to stirrups.

  “New patients such as Jack undergo Säurewäsche for the initial months of their treatment.”

  The young nurse steps between the stirrups. The camera moves and zooms showing that in her hand is a pumice stone, craggy and rough. Jack, face not shown, cries out ‘no’ and the nurse shushes, not pausing for a moment in palming his long now flaccid penis applying the gruff surface to the sensitive thin flesh. She rubs mechanically, obviously having many times repeated the agonizing procedure. Once again comes the look of Schadenfreude as Jack is not at all shushed, instead his fruitless protests become louder.

  “The entire penis is first excoriated,” the narrator explains as indeed the nurse assures every millimeter of skin is briskly rubbed, turning the pink more and more crimson.

  Finally finished, the nurse steps away, Jack’s legs tugging in vain against his confining straps. When the nurse returns she dons latex gloves and carries a bowl of liquid.

  “And then comes the Säurewäsche. Quite painful, but for the best, mentally transforming a source of perceived pleasure into a source of suffering.”

  The hand action changes to become soft and tender, slowly and methodically coating the penis with the contents of the bowl. Jack shrieks, his voice becoming comic
ally hoarse with the deliberate application of what is evidently not water.

  At this point I again click pause and open another screen in my browser. I must know, clicking on a translating page and doing my best to spell the German word. On my third try I find that Säurewäsche means acid wash!

  Poor Jack. Indeed what brought him pleasure... though rarely under my auspices... the nurse is turning to the ultimate implement of slow torture.

  I click back to see the nurse step away then return with the pole. It is now he is to be washed, for the acid remains and will eventually bring undesirable deep burns. And sure enough, the legs are freed from the stirrups and the pole directs him to the waiting chains. The yoke is attached, forcing Jack to stand, the pole removed and as the primary nurse steps away, an unseen nurse hoses Jack down with frigid water... at this point shocking yet gratefully welcomed by a penis on fire.

  As the routine but irritating cleansing follows, two nurses scrubbing everywhere, the psychological implications tantalize. It would probably be in violation of Institute protocol, but I’d be curious at that point to see Jack attempt to stroke himself, offering an end to the dire chastity. His penis was slowly and methodically turned to a state of painful rawness by his tending nurse, ingraining her power and control... and sending a grim and forceful message to the sexually deviant male... that once proud strip of flesh is now solely to empty your bladder.

  Yes, watching him hurt himself in the expectation of pleasure would be most entertaining.

  As the scrubbing concludes, for the first time the brush handles are noted. Their unusual length permit the nurses to stand well to the side. With Jack’s feet unburdened, a retaliating kick is feasible. But the nurses, though young, are well experienced, staying out of range and at an improbable angle.