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Chapter Six: Defecational Instructions
There wasn’t much room in the small stall, but Ms. Rocksand made do.
Ms. Rocksand worked my panties down to my knees and guided me back to the commode upon which she made me sit. In my condition I could neither piss, nor shit, but Ms. Rocksand understood my predicament and she also had the solution.
“Here! Let me fuckin’ help you, ya’ fuckin’ worthless bag of horse diarrhea,” she stated aloud, more for the benefit of those around us, then for me. With one hand she forced me back on the seat as far as the pipes would allow. I thrilled to her warm hand upon my chest and adapted to the cold steel in my back, as my elbows landed against the wall.
After some abusive gala and making a point of keeping to the side, out of the way, Ms. Rocksand leaned over me just far enough. She kept my back against the cold pipes and my abdomen pressed forward, making sure all her sisters had a clear view. Then she grabbed my hard-on between the thumb and two fingers of her free hand. She took it close to the base and dug in, till I could feel her fingers almost inside of me. It was a deliberately strong pinch that caused excruciating pain and my boner to wilt like a magician’s wand, until I was able to urinate. Pissing felt strange while in someone else’s hand, made more so with women laughing, watching from just outside the stall. I tried looking past the smiles, as Ms. Rocksand moved me about in clever designs that amused the crowd and brought me discomfort. She could even play a tune in the water that everyone seemed to know, simply by controlling my discharge with pinches. She was concerned with keeping my crotch in plain view and did a good job of holding me above the seats edge. I simply did my best to keep the collar from tipping and my head on it’s platter for her friends.
Ms. Rocksand kept to the side so everyone could watch my flow, as she manipulated my organ. She did with my penis as she wished and when it was out of piss, she wrung it out with great deliberation, to the very last drop. Then she began treating it like a long thick wad of elastic latex. It became a Stretch-Penis doll that she pulled out of shape while everyone roared in laughter. I withered on the steel that dug into my spine as she lifted me from the commode. She pulled yanked and worked me around in the air from my stretched organ. She lifted me high and plopped me back down again and again, in an exciting bit of showmanship. Then like the expert she is, Ms. Rocksand caught my eyes when they were most distressed.
Then her hands became gentle, yet stayed sure, as her eyes became playful and climbed into mine. I was instantly sedated and quickly stroked into hardness. She made sure everyone watched her, as she caused my organ to swell and regain its stature. I was truly lost to that moment and I didn’t care where I was, or how many women watched. I opened my mouth and emitted long moans of surrender to the pleasures Ms. Rocksand provided me. In no time she had me bucking into the air shamelessly, in the direction of her excited friends, driving myself to ejaculation. Just as the audience began falling over in laughter and I could feel my seeds boiling quickly to the surface, my rough antagonist interrupted me by suddenly squeezing, halting everything.
“Good, and now for your other fuckin’ function,” she said pulling me up by my cock. I was still in a daze as Ms. Rocksand turned me about in front of the women provocatively and then let go. With both hands she took me by the waist, turned me to face the toilet and made me bow. She made me bend forward at the waist until the moat ran like a river to the collars edge and away. My ass was brought into a disgraceful prominence and offered to all while I gazed into the toilet. I looked into a white porcelain commode casino oyna of yellow water and waste that dripped from my collar, as everyone else made fun of my most private areas, my crinkled rosette.
As usual I had no idea what to expect and didn’t have long to wait. I felt the long thin nozzle forced up into my behind, heard the women gibbering with more laughter and had my bowels filled with a cool fluid that kept arriving. Ms. Rocksand was giving me an enema. She kept me in that vulgar position, plugged and looking down into my urine until my discomfort became painfully distressing. Only after my swollen buttocks had twitched and tensed themselves into a condition of evident concern did my tormentor remove the nozzle. I was immediately spun around and plopped down with enough force to knock everything out of me. The results were an instantaneous explosion of the most debasing nature. At least a dozen more female faces jockeyed into view, all straining to see what was happening, to listen and maybe catch a whiff of my recital. I turned my head from side to side and didn’t wish to see past the edge of my collar. I tried escaping, to close out the stares, until ordered to look up and ham things up.
I was without choice and could do nothing else but obey. I looked in the direction of my rabid fans while attempting to avoid their gazes, as I continued my loud and shameful show. I tried to see past them all, to pretend it was all make-believe, but my noises kept me rooted in reality. Those eruptions created from my dark avenue, were rousing orchestral pieces, providing the wildest in Servo-jazz. Adding insults to injury, most women stayed long enough to watch Ms. Rocksand make me stand, turn around and bend over again. This time so she could wipe my behind.
There was a bit of a mess, but Ms. Rocksand took care of it. At one point she had me reach back with both hands and spread my ass cheeks apart. She had me jumping around, displaying my puckered aperture to those present and flashing it in their faces. She had me acting like an organ grinders monkey, trained to beg with a cup and tip of the fez.
“Good boy,” she said of my outrageous performance. With a great flamboyance Ms. Rocksand made an undue spectacle of the affair and the ladies around us were more than impressed. Impressing one another was paramount to these females and I seemed to remember that being true of my mom and her friends also.
Located just outside the stall and to the right were a long row of chairs. They ran along the wall and Ms. Rocksand marched us over to one. She chose the one near the middle, because it offered the best view to those around us. Then she unceremoniously toppled me over her lap and I landed with my organ dangling to one side of her left knee. My right hand landed on the seat of the next chair, my left hand reached the floor and my legs spread. My left leg stayed straight, foot on the floor; my right leg draped across the seat of the chair to my chastiser’s left. She made sure my legs were well parted and stroked me to the brink of an eruption. The ladies were ready and the spanking began.
Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! My ass was already so sore her first spank caused me burst into tears. The crowd of orally abusive ladies burst into a short round of applause and gathered as near as they could. I swear they fought for positions, with most wanting to view my face. There were even a few camera flashes, which made me feel very peculiar. These women liked nothing better than to watch and listen to a big boy struggling under the primordial sounds of the, ‘whap, smack, whap, smack’, of a hand against bun flesh. They dipped way back in time, for the sacred songs I now produced for their gratification. I called forth the tears of an archaic, impressive sacrifice. slot oyna I was the sacrifice; it was my right and duty. I was the chosen, the rite of surrendering to the sorority’s great goddess was mine and mine alone.
Ms. Rocksand had a powerful swing and her spanks had me screaming for mercy in no time. With grimaced face and clenched body, I realized she practiced often. Whap! Smack! Whap! Smack! Whap! She alternated cheeks and I could feel them bouncing and jiggling under her assault. Again I forced my hands to stay where they were and reason became a weight. Whap. Smack. Whap. Smack. Whap. My cheeks were kindled brushwood in the hands of an experienced scout. I didn’t want any more spankings, I wanted to learn quickly, and I wanted to be a model employee. I wanted to find a wife.
“Look up at the women ya fukin’ wimp! Look up and let them see your fuckin’ face! Show them your tears, ya’ little prick,” Ms. Rocksand blurted out between swats. I turned my bawling face up, to the crowd and saw their excitement through a blur of rushing tears. ‘How could another’s suffering bring so many pleasure’, I screamed to myself silently. Was it actually pleasure that drove Christians to burn their innocent neighbors as witches? I was ignorant of the world and of human nature, but I now knew the power of pleasure and the extremes to which human’s will go in pursuit. I saw these days as an intense course in reality. I prayed they would prove as fruitful an education, as they were painful. It ended none too soon, with me wailing and in tears. Ms. Rocksand then made me stand and face the women while she readjusted my panties and the crowd looked on.
“Stand up straight ya’ fuckin’ ass wipe! Display yourself properly now,” she ordered, while fitting my organ into the panties. With complete and utter ease she stroked my hard-on into a throbbing fit, before slipping it into the material. The other women were impressed with Ms. Rocksand’s performance and with my submission. I received a number of encouraging comments, some even providing confidence. Although I was humiliated by everything, the commentary would have made Ms. Handlesmen proud.
In a state of shock it took me awhile to shake, I cried all the way back to Ms. Handlesmen’s office. My mind was in turmoil, I was to receive yet another spanking from Ms. Handlesmen. Could I take another one? I did want another bonus!
I finally found myself where I wanted to be, alone and totally naked with Ms. Handlesmen. I stood before her as totally prepared as I could be, watching her drape the towel over her lap She looked more lovely then I remembered her. She was dressed in red and looked ready to paint the town a similar color. She looked sharp in a two piece suit and my eyes fell into the vee of her parted white blouse. She must have enjoyed showing her cleavage; the pride was evident in way she held her chest. Her body was something to be proud of and I was proud to be with her. Her breasts were ample, the cleavage deep and I enjoyed letting my mind drop between and snuggle into it.
With the towel in place she looked up to me and our eyes met. Hers were serious, mine were delighted. I knew what to do without needing to be told and draped myself across her lap. I was careful to guide myself onto the towel properly. I wanted to show this woman how quickly I learn. She smiled, obviously pleased by my actions and sat there watching as I stretched myself out. Then I offered her my behind, like a virgin might her chastity to the man she loves, with awakening desire and an innocents trepidation.
After I was draped to perfection, my mistress took the time to examine my offering. She seemed taken by their bruised state and I hoped for a little mercy, a bit of clemency. But my lady wasn’t gentle when opening my anus and with canlı casino siteleri the aid of six fingers spread my pucker wide.
“My you have a nice behind, Joey and a very dainty rosette,” she chimed. Her words thrilled me and I strained to hold my ass higher, but she let my cheeks shut and then…Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap!
Her hand rained down with a sweet fire from heaven and I jumped to its tune like a cat caught by its tail. She laid into me with all she had and I returned the favor in tears and screams, which weren’t difficult. Considering how much abuse my behind had already received, I was all but hysterical. Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap! I cried and cried and wailed on, while forcing my hands to stay on the floor and my body to lie still. My wicked conductor understood the scales of hysteria well and led me in a wild, heavy symphony, with little sympathy.
Ms. Handlesmen got me crying so hard I could hardly beg for a moment to breathe. I was gasping, wheezing, choking and gagging to the onslaught. But on and on my tormentors hand walloped with complete abandon.
“I want to see these buns redder then my suit,” my mistress spat in labored hisses through clenched teeth. “These are mine, my property and I want to see them in flames!” Her claims of ownership were every bit as exciting and more meaningful to me then the scourging was painful. She did love me, I was convinced of that now. It must have been what she meant and that was all I wanted to hear. To be wanted by a woman, to be loved and if this is what love was all about, so be it.
It was quite awhile before Ms. Handlesmen finished and I was positive she only stopped after succeeding in turning my behind the fire-engine red of her dreams. Afterwards she allowed me to stay as I was, over her lap. I laid there shaking in fits and tremors, my hard-on throbbing against her thigh. I was happy like this and simply thinking of her helped quell the pain. I was slowly calming down and couldn’t yet fathom all that’s happened. She now puffed on a fine cigar and read the newspaper, relaxing as my sobs became sniffles. Every once in a while, a cool soft hand stroked my sore behind or tickled my balls and soon my sniffles turned to deep breathing. I heard her humming contentedly to herself and I began to drift.
“Well now,” she finally said, placing the paper aside. “You’ve once again proved yourself to me young man. I think you know what that means…Don’t you Joey.” She took another draw on her cigar. I looked back over my shoulder at her, like the hurt little boy I was and she let me fall from her lap.
I was now on the floor, kneeling erect before Ms. Handlesmen. I knelt with my legs apart, my hands atop my head. I was moving my hips and pumping my hard-on through the soft, moist confines of her left hand. She held her hand before me with an unconcerned air, while puffing on her cigar and looking down at me only occasionally. She had me looking up, searching for suddenly cold eyes and admitting how much I’d enjoyed the day. I told her how much fun it had been for me and how much I delighted in doing things for her. I would do and be anything she asked because I adored her.
“I love you.” The words slipped easily from between my lips. Ms. Handlesmen smiled warmly and I felt her now wet hand grip me tighter. I was losing control and increased my tempo. “I love you, I love you, I lov…”
Ms. Handlesmen was very happy with me and more pleased with the way I looked and felt without hair. She decided then I would have my entire body waxed the very next day. I began pumping faster, not wanting to end the pleasure but unable to forestall it.
“Cum on big boy, you can do it. Shoot your load for me Joey. Let me see you squirt,” Ms. Handlesmen cooed and as was expected of me, I leaned against her arm, reached down with both hands and caught my own discharge. She didn’t wish me to stain her rug.
The bonus clinched it for me, I was truly a bonus junky and Ms. Handlesmen was my pusher, my fix, my past, present, and future.
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