Mrs. Featherwink pulled a brown bottle from her starched apron pocket. Laudanum. A few drops often eased the way for many a reluctant employee. Gordy watched as a few drops were pushed past the clenched teeth. The change was swift; the shadow of a cloud passing over a bright lake. The slow dulling of the reflective surface as the light slowly faded. And so it was with the prize. The tension fell from his limbs, his breathing slowed, the frighten horse look left his eyes, his torso sagged, his struggles became less coordinated and more feeble. Drugged his fight was beautiful. Here was the ballet Gordy desired. Mrs. Featherwink knew where the delicate balance lay.
Gordy readied himself to enjoy the next steps in the cleaning. He pulled his companion to the foot of the leather chair and forced him to his knees and bent him from the waist. A pillow from the floor covered the bound arms. The hands looked a little blue, but no real danger here. Gordy placed his legs on his footstool and shifted a bit in his seat to find the most comfortable spot. He poured another small brandy, took a sip and smiled in satisfaction. He selected a slender wand with a bulbous head from the side table and gave the footstool's ass a few lashes. It trembled with the exertion of maintaining a level back without the aid of his arms. The vibrations moved up Gordy's legs.
March and Halden lifted the prize from the tub and placed his feet on to two low sturdy stools and forced him to squat, bent forward, his chest over his knees, his body a three-quarter view from Gordy's viewing room. His ankles secured on each oak stool with cuffs and rough hemp rope. Mrs. Featherwink lifted the enema bag from table and pressed it to her cheek to judge the temperature, and satisfied, ran the nozzle head up the prize's crack. He tried to push himself into a standing position but Halden, March, and the laudanum did their work to force him into place. His muscles strained. A guttural, animal sound emerged from the back of his throat. A dab of grease and the nozzle head worked slowly passed the clenched anus. The release of the clamp sent the warm sudsy water along the tube and a strong squeeze from Mrs. F. sent it rushing into the prize. He twitched and fought to pivot on the stools. The water continued to flow. Miss Liz held the basin close to the rounded buttocks. Placing a practiced hand on the abdomen, Mrs. Featherwink judged the capacity of the lower intestines. Satisfied, she put a quick kink in the hose. The prize's head fell back, eyes closed in near agony. His shame, fear, and pain washed exquisitely across his face.
Gordy gave his footstool's ass two quick lashed and moved the bulbous wand around to the mouth, giving it a moment to lubricate it. Back to the anus and the wand bent slightly and the bulb slowly spread the puckered opening. A moment of resistance and it was in. Gordy watched the thin black shaft bend and the bulb worked deeper into the channel. The footstool trembled beneath his legs, and with a grunt the front half collapsed on the floor.
"Kneel between my knees." Gordy unbuttoned his trousers and slid them and his linen small clothes to his ankles. His penis, set free, bobbed against his stomach. He looped his knees over the footstool's shoulders and eased farther down in the soft chair. "Suck my balls." And they were sucked and licked. His penis cried out for attention, but Gordy deigned himself. Not yet. He bent the long wand over the footstool's back and continued to work the head back and forth. He gave the wand a flick causing a long shiver to jiggle the head planted deeply in the ass. The vibration produced frantic sucking. The ass moved forward as the footstool tried to find a bit of friction for his engorged shaft. Gordy pulled the stool back by the hair and smacked the swollen lips. "Try that again and I'll see you strapped to a fuck bench at the Turtle."
The nozzle was removed and the Prize ordered to empty his bowels. He froze. The color rose nicely. He refused. Halden smacked him in the face and still he refused to release the soapy water. Mrs. Featherwink reached around and firmly grasped his penis and gave it a sharp pull. The dirty water gushed into the chamber pot. Again he was filled and emptied until the water ran clear. His torso sagged in the arms of his tormentors. His legs trembled. The muscles in his back clenched. Miss Liz washed his ass and thighs.
Gordy's footstool moved his mouth as directed to the penis. Gordy continued to send strong vibrations along to the bulb causing it to vibrate against the footstool's prostrate. He loved the prolonged promise of fulfillment. The footstool's increased desired and urgent need caused the back of his throat to open and Gordy felt his swollen head pulled deep into the hot throat. He came. The footstool choked and fought for breath. He pushed against his legs. Gordy prolonged the moment, the feeling of the opening to the esophagus on the glands as his erection died. He slowly withdrew and allowed the footstool to fall to the floor in a faint the wand still wedged in his rectum. It made a pretty picture. Blue lips, blue hands, and a tail.
In the clean room, the Prize's body want limp as he was untied from the stools and carried to the table. His arms were pulled back over his head and secured at the top of the table in hoops of hemp. Ropes looped around his knees and were drawn back and out toward the head of the table until he resembled a frog belly up on a pond bank. The ankles secured. Mrs. Featherwink looked into the mirror and receiving no counter indication began smearing a thick yellow cream on the pubic hair with her fat fingers. Miss Liz used damp warm towels to remove the hair. The ropes were drawn tighter pulling the knees higher and farther out causing the Prize's pelvis to tilt and expose his anus. He groaned at the stretching and the same cream was used on his chest, ass, legs, and underarms until Prize was hairless from the neck down.
Gordy loved this view. So open, ready for anything. Thighs pushed flat. Anus exposed. Balls and penis completely naked to the cool air. The soft skin where the top of the leg met the groin. So sensitive and accessible. "Make him erect." Miss Liz grabbed the member firmly and began messaging the length, giving it a twist as her hand covered the head. Dipping her fingers in violet ointment, Miss Liz continued to massage the growing shaft. She placed her thumbs on the underside of the head and ran the slick balls of her thumbs over the glands. The Prize mouthed a silent protest. The penis rose under Liz's hands. His erection made him look even more vulnerable. It didn't take long before he was pushing into the strokes. "Stop." His pelvis lifted and pushed into the empty air. His stomach muscles rippled. His buttocks clenched with the effort to push up to find nothing. Gordy sighed. "To me, Mrs. F." He looked at the footstool stirring on the floor. "Clean me." It struggled awkwardly back to its knees and slid its cheek along Gordy's inner thigh. The tongue darted in and out as he licked the crease in Gordy's upper leg and groin. Mrs. Featherwink entered and watched with a practiced eye as the flicking tongue work its way to the shaft.
"Here's what I want." Gordy's eyes remained on the Prize tied to the table in the next room. "I'll return to collect the merchandise when it's ready." He kicked in agitation at the footstool. "He will know these things, his name is Prize, he was born in a brothel, he was cut for the pleasure of men, his mother sold him, this is his whole life." Mrs. Featherwink nodded. "You will not break his bones. You will not break his teeth, do not over feed him. Educate him to my needs. You will break him to service."
"I understand. Were things to your satisfaction?"
"I managed. Not much endurance with this one." Gordy pushed his companion away and pulled his trousers and small clothes back in place.
"He's my niece's boy. I'd hoped he'd do better."
"One could hope." Gordy extended his hand and confirmed his order. "Send me word when he is trained and ready for me." Gordy straightened his clothes and removed his wallet from his coat pocket. He passed a number of large bills into Mrs. Featherwink's hand.
The house was beginning to stir. The Prize was untied from the table, his face covered by the black hood. Halden and March wrapped him in the sheet from the table and carried him down the back stair to the cell. The doors they passed remained closed. Only the eyes in the oil paintings watched the passage of the shrouded form. The specials waited until Mrs. Featherwink's heavy steps receded from the hall. They trembled in their rooms from the echoes of Prize's screams and moans.
