The Predator

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

A sleepless Max watches in the dim light and listens as Doodie and Luda share a bed, their forms covered in thick blankets. Doodie literally sleeps with his head embedded between Luda’s thighs, and it seems that every time Max dozes off, muffled cries of passion end his brief slumber. Luda’s orgasms are strong and animated with Doodie’s tongue arduously servicing throughout the night.

When daylight arrives, a half asleep Max watches in awe as Luda arises. She sits up and slides to the edge of the large but simple cot, displaying mammoth but firm breasts. Doodie wakes and scrambles from under the covers with the alacrity of a squirrel. On the floor of the enclosure he prostrates himself on hands and knees, lowering his head to look up into Luda’s s*x. Feminine fingers reach down in a practiced maneuver. Doodie rapidly moves forward to once again pay homage between the potent thighs. With Max observing, Luda relieves herself... Doodie evidently trained to obviate the need to exit the warmth of the teepee to answer nature’s call.

Finished with her business, Doodie not allowing a drop to spill, Luda stands. Sans animal skins, her naked form makes her appear taller, the thickness of the fur no longer projecting false girth. She approaches the well-tethered Max. He gawks as leg muscles ripple, her breasts defy gravity and a well-trimmed pubes reveals a huge vermillion c******s sucked ad infinitum by her naked castrate.

“He has learned to live vicariously for my pleasure, Max. As will you,” anticipating the captive’s thoughts.

She stands before the restrained beast, allowing him a moment more of viewing. Max can smell the arousal of her steamy s*x. Dare he extend his tongue?

“Show’s over.”

Strange disappointment overcomes him as Luda slips a hood over Max’s head.

Meanwhile Doodie labors to rekindle the center fire and begin coffee. His prandial duties are many, as the demanding Luda requires much attention. Fortunately the larger outside fire has smoldered all night and the iron pot is filled with hot water. He retrieves a bucket and returns, Luda laughing with the effect of the cold autumn air on his anserine flesh and crinkled n*****s. It is a drawback of plains living that sponge baths must suffice for morning ablutions. Yet with Doodie’s soft and adoring hands, the ruggedness is tempered. Luda returns to lie on the cot as Doodie immerses a chamois into the nearly hot bucket and tends to Luda’s cleanliness. She lies prostrate as Doodie begins with her back.

It is a privilege only afforded the castrated male. Just as in Middle Eastern harems, but for Doodie’s missing glands, there would be no proximity to Luda’s most private anatomy. However, in being snipped, Doodie’s hormone level is most likely closer to being female than that of the sss Luda. Thus he swathes the soothingly warm chamois with impunity, tenderly caressing his idol, the woman who so cruelly altered him.

“This morning we’ll pierce his ankles so the openings will heal along with his back. We can also ring his balls and lastly insert the nostril binding. Later I’ll finish the ankle rings and he can crawl about until his tendons recover. We have a few days of good weather remaining. And you have time say good bye to your Sioux friends while he acclimates.”

Whether in fact the young Sioux males are Doodie’s friends, Luda does not know... nor does she care. But he will be missed, of that Luda is certain. Virile young males are virile young males, no matter the culture. How many has Doodie serviced to the whoops and chants of the various tribe members?

Finished with her back, Luda rolls and Doodie continues to smooth the cleansing cloth over the hillocks of her mammary glands and the ripples of her abdomen. The daily cleaning brings envy to Doodie, Luda having the potent physique for which even intact males pine. And when Luda parts her thighs to permit access to her intimate charms, Doodie is almost grateful for the access afforded by his transformation. The small and well-trained hands carefully bathe, Doodie assuring that the temperature is perfect.

Despite servicing her nether region for most of the night, Doodie is tempted. He would so much like to return there, to feel his owner gently spasm as his tongue and lips swirl and suck, gathering up every drop of essence, coaxing the ultimate feminine response. Luda is a squirter, a woman who ejaculates strongly and she insists that her offering be entirely consumed. Doodie has accordingly learned to capture all that flows. To be basked in her nectar is exquisite. Yet he assuages his momentary desire in knowing that later tonight... and every night... he will again explore with abandon.

“Put on your sheepskin and do Max. I will dress and have coffee.”

Yes the hooded Max, four pairs of deep punctures holding him in place, requires attention. And as much as Doodie would enjoy tending to his superior, servicing the helpless male also tempts.

Doodie steps outside to retrieve more water. His genderless psyche spawns no reservation in servicing the male. And when Doodie cut away Max’s pubic hair during the prior evening, there was envy of the intact male. Max is well endowed, plump testes causing the hormones which Doodie lacks to flourish.

And so when Luda suggests that Max needs attention, Doodie needs no second instruction. As he kneels with bucket and warm cloth, a clothed Luda slips away the hood.

“Enjoy his kindness, Max. You will not receive the same from me.”

Over coffee, Luda observes as Doodie labors, gently cleaning the naked captive. His altered state forces him to pay particular attention to the kneeling male’s privates, touching the plump and firm testicles which are a far off memory. A homophobic Max stirs in his bonds.

Luda senses his discomfort.

“Oh, go ahead, Max. Show Doodie your virility. You won’t otherwise have much use for it. May as well amuse.”

With Luda’s coaxing words, Max’s p***s seems to spring to life. Doodie chuckles most devilishly, thoroughly enjoying the results of his caressing hands as the tip of Max’s uncircumcised p***s seems to obediently heed its new owner.

“Quite the big one for you, Doodie. Hope he works as well as he shows off.”

Luda laughs with her taunt. She would love to watch Max squirm with distaste as Doodie expertly works to masturbate him. But alas, she wants a chaste and randy male beast to pull the supply sled. If Doodie is overly disappointed, he can bring Steel to climax instead.

But still the mental torment is difficult to resist.

“Ok, but no climax, Doodie.”

An eager Doodie puts aside bucket and cloth, kneels lower and cradles Max’s scrotum. His mouth opens to take the bulbous p***s tip. Max both moans with pleasure and wrenches against his bonds in renewed disgust.

“I am told the fellatio of the castrated male cannot be surpassed, Max. Enjoy. And be assured Doodie will not let you orgasm. Henceforth that’s strictly under my control.”