Desperate

Chapter Two-3

The guards came for him one afternoon while he was trying to sleep in his tiny cubicle cell. They bound and gagged him, then pulled the usual leather helmet over his head and sealed it with a heavy metal collar around his neck. The collar was locked. He heard the lock being put through the collar hasp, and he heard the click as the locking pins set. Then they took him out of the cell, down the hall, and into the elevator.

He thought, “They’re taking me up there to the public viewing room again.” But that wasn’t the plan. The elevator car descended instead of rising. Eddie had never gone down to the lower levels after leaving his cell floor. He was frightened. Where was he going now? What were they going to do to him? The car stopped after a few seconds, and they took him out. Under his feet he felt loose dirt, not the cold stone floors of the other levels. His feet were hobbled, but the two guards hustled him along, their arms through his bound elbows, half dragging him because he was too slow. His toes trailed in the dirt, leaving a wavering set of lines behind as he went down the dirt hallway and into the vaulted, smoky chamber.

Eddie could smell the smoke of a coal fire. The air was heavy with it, warm and moist, like a jungle clearing where campfires burned. Through the hood, he heard muffled sounds; and, as the guards stopped him and held him, he felt other hands on his harnessed, naked body. The usual butt plug, the one he always had to wear within the groin harness, was taken out and left dangling alongside his leg. His feet were untied and pulled harshly apart by unseen hands. Between his legs, he felt another intruder begin to enter his rear. It was a different feeling, almost alive. It was a wide and softer shaft, with an immense head bigger than the impalement he had stood on before. It was being slowly screwed into his anus in an obscene and erotic fashion. Eddie struggled and fought, but the guards and others around him held him tight; while, below him, someone operated the insidious screwing probe. It was well lubricated and soon had threaded itself up and into his colon, twisting slowly as it followed the inner contours of his body, slowly pushing and screwing deeper and deeper. Eddie held his breath, but then had to exhale and draw another as the thing was driven further.

After what seemed like an hour and about ten feet of the thing inside him, they stopped. They released him from their hold, his feet barely on the dirt floor, standing on the tips of his toes. Eddie stood with no one touching him, his arms tied behind him with thin nylon rope, elbows pulled harshly together, chest thrust out as he breathed raggedly through the gag and the hood. His legs were only about a foot apart, but he realized that the probe was connected somehow to the floor, and he was once again mounted on some sort of shaft with the flexible probe on top, keeping what seemed like many feet of the thing inside him. A tiny move of this body sent waves of nausea and pain through his torso. Lowering his stance from toes to balls of his feet was excruciating. The thing was so deep inside that he was sure that they had driven it into his stomach, and that he would soon bleed to death. So he stood there, impaled as never before, shuddering with each breath, his collared p***s stiffly stuck up and out into the smoky air, his hooded head back and staring sightlessly at the high vaulted ceiling of the underground chamber.

Eddie stood there for what seemed like hours, his legs vibrating with the strain, his insides feeling like they were being roto-rooted by the deep, flexible dildo. Much later, they removed him from the stand that held the thing in place, and his groin harness was refastened with much of the thing still deep inside him. He was dragged to a metal, coffin-like box and pushed inside, face first. The metal lid was shut and bolted. Eddie stood in the coffin all night. Eight more hours, with the thing imbedded in his body.

In the morning, he was taken out and laid on a table while the probe was extracted. It took a long time coming out, inch after inch. It felt like foot after foot. He never knew exactly how much he had taken that time, but later episodes with larger and fatter probes soon convinced him that this gross exploration of his insides would never stop.

Weeks later, after many sessions on the upright impalement, his helmet eyeholes were opened; and, after getting accustomed to the light, Eddie was given a quick and sudden view of the tormentor. In the hands of one of the woman guards, he saw a coiled snake-like device, as flexible as a piece of fishing line and as fat as his middle finger. The head was soft and round, like his own p***s head. He figured the thing was about six feet in length, even if it had felt like ten. The guard called it “The Explorer”, and Eddie came to fear it like nothing else he was ever to see. Preparation for the exploration was always a massive enema or two and then the length was driven into him. On many occasions, he was mounted in a high traffic area of the castle, a hallway where prisoners and staff moved back and forth past him, standing there, unable to move, impaled and on display for hours.

Eventually, this was where he met his Arab owner, who found the bound and transfixed Eddie shuddering on his metal stand with six feet of probe up his ass. It was love at first sight for Mohammed Achmed Bey Mafusta, and the two soon became owner and slave. Mafusta had many slaves, male and female; and, on occasion, he waxed quite ineloquently about his frustration that there were only two sexes. He did his best to find at least one other, and Eddie became his experimental test bed.

But while he tested, Mafusta made sure Eddie was kept busy. One November day, Eddie and three other similarly pierced, harnessed, and bound males were attached to a heavy four wheeled carriage and forced to pull it along a narrow dirt road for several miles in the sunny but cold winter weather. They were outfitted in cleated, high-heeled boots that carried a conventional horseshoe on the toe and a five-inch spiked heel at the back. The boots came up to their crotch and were held in place with metal clips attached to their groin and penile collars. Arms and wrists bound behind them, ankles shackled to allow only short steps, the four handsome young men struggled along the road, the chain and leather of their bonds creaking and groaning as the carriage rolled through the ruts and pot holes of the country track. The bridles held gag bits deep in their mouths, and their muffled cries and complaints were ignored by the driver and young couple riding inside the luxury coach.

The driver was a Consortium guard who handled reins and whips with great dexterity. At one point, she turned her driver’s seat over to an elegantly dressed young woman who was one of the passengers. She had been drinking champagne and riding in the heated carriage cabin. When this change in drivers happened, the entire trip changed for the worst. The new driver plied her whip with far less skill and accuracy. The blows rained down without any interest in accuracy, impact, or damage. The pulling ponies were being flogged without mercy, their backs and hind quarters quickly reduced to a mass of red welts. The only relief came from the fact that the driver was quite drunk and thus unable to direct her blows consistently to the groins of the ponies. The Carriage Trip from Hell, as Eddie came to think of it, ended only when all four of the pulling slaves collapsed in the dirt, whipped to exhaustion by the inexperienced young driver. The guard had finally insisted that the young woman return to the interior of the coach where a fresh bottle of champagne awaited and then had taken over the onerous job of getting the rig back to the stable. She first watered the team with freezing cold water from the barrel on the rear of the carriage, rubbed them down with a dry blanket, and coaxed them back into pulling position with a mixture of threats and entreaties. She applied her crop carefully to the areas where she knew she’d get a proper response. She knew that a riding crop to the balls often worked far better than a horsewhip to the back. Eventually, they had driven slowly home while the evil young woman client and her even younger female companion finished off a second bottle of Christal in the carriage.

Back now in his cell at The Consortium, Wilson chewed on the leather gag deeply set in his mouth. Over time, the leather tended to absorb the saliva; and, unless he chewed on it occasionally, it became stuck firmly to the inside of his mouth. When this happened, moving the gag or removing it, as his captors did when they wanted to feed or interrogate him, resulted in tearing off pieces of the oral cavity. Eddie chewed. His tired jaws moved a fraction of an inch, but he chewed, working his teeth into the indentations in the leather and moving his pinioned tongue from side to side under the gag. He shifted his chained feet, lowered his head, and tried to ease the discomfort in this bound arms and legs. This time, they hadn’t put the weights on his ringed breasts nor had they attached chains or weights to the rings in his groin.

Eddie no longer had male genitals. His scrotum and testicles had been chemically shrunk with hormones; and, finally, the remains were surgically removed and the tissue used to create a v****a and the rest of his new female equipment. His p***s had also been removed in a separate series of operations and grafted to the inside of his new internal s*x organs. At the same time, rings and other hardware had been fitted, and his pelvis was now a composite of old male organs and newly created female anatomy with stainless steel rings and bands imbedded in the flesh and bone. Eddie had two massive stainless steel rings that went through his vaginal flesh and into his pelvic bone on either side. Another similar set had been inserted into the bones on either side of his rectum, emerging from the buttock tissue and serving as anchor points for a variety of suspension hardware. On bad days, Eddie hung suspended from overhead chains by his four pelvic rings and little else. Sometimes they chained his hands to the floor below. At other times, his hands and feet were joined together behind him and a chain from them led to a nearby wall or post. At other times, Eddie had his pelvis connected to the wagon or cart he was to pull, his legs straddling the wagon tongue, and his arms bound up behind him to his hood, bridle, or collar.

Sold during his ‘impalement phase’, Eddie was at The Consortium for ‘modifications’ more often than he was in Egypt, where his owner lived. In a year’s time, they had first given him large breasts and wider hips. His owner had found this unflattering to his new slave and had sent him back for reduction of these areas. He had also initially ordered Eddie with the usual nine rings but later had these removed and new ones added in additional locations.

Eddie was a plastic surgeon’s test bench. Each time his owner visited him, Eddie cringed in wonder and horror at what new improvements would be ordered from The Consortium. Lacking any real originality and imagination, his Arab owner had made up for this deficiency simply by slow experimentation. “I’ll know it when I see it,” he’d said to Atella. Thus far, his experiments in flesh had cost him over two million oil dollars, or about two minutes worth of his country’s daily production. Not much for a little American slave ponygirl, but enough to keep The Consortium interested and the surgeon occupied with new techniques.