The Gift Of Surrender
Keywords: Of, Surrender, The, Gift,
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Lillian was sorting through her nozzles, discarding the ones that had become too nicked or corroded for further use, when Gail brought in the new asset. He was short, slight, and pale of face. He tottered and stumbled with each tug Gail gave to his leash. Some of his pallor might well have been from fear, for there were distinct lines of fright around his gag and the leather strap that held it in place.
Being snatched off the street by a strange woman, stripped naked and locked into heavy bondage could do that to a young man. This one was no more than nineteen.
Gail put a hand in the middle of his back and urged him toward the treatment table until his genitals had engaged the notch for them. "Work, Lil."
Lillian looked him over quickly. "Standard?"
"Not this one." Gail let her hand slide down the captive's back and across his buttocks. The boy shivered. "Mistress said Andre is coming tonight. She wants you to make this one ready for him."
Lillian nodded. Andre could be hard on his toys. The boy was going to need a thorough course of preparation. "Let's get started."
Gail pressed the boy's chest down onto the padded surface of the table. His chin fell accurately into the chin cup. Lillian undid the straps that pinned his arms behind him, then quickly resecured his arms to the table's forward struts, at the wrists and elbows. Meanwhile, Gail strapped his knees and ankles to the back struts, spreading his legs and buttocks. He did not resist.
"Has he been emptied out?" Lillian said.
"Uh-huh." Gail pulled the ankle restraints lovingly tight. "You should have seen him when I got him in here. What a mess."
"Parasites?" It had to be expected with the street captives.
"Four kinds."
"Yuck." Lillian glanced at the boy's face, reached behind his head and unsnapped the ball gag. He pushed it weakly out of his mouth, and it fell into her hand. She leaned forward and brought her face close to his.
"What's your name?" She tried to make her voice low and comforting.
"Peter," he whispered.
"I have to re-gag you, Peter," she said. "Don't fight what's about to happen. It's for your protection. You'll only be here tonight and tomorrow, and then we'll let you go. It won't be much fun for you, but you'll leave with warm clothing and some money in your pocket. Do you understand me?" She started to reach for a gag, then stopped and peered into his eyes.
"Please," he whispered. "Don't hurt me."
She'd heard that plea a thousand times. She never did hurt them, but of course they wouldn't know that going in. What happened after they left her hands, she could not control.
"Trust me, I won't. What happens later tonight might hurt you if you don't let me do what I must, so try to relax, okay?"
"Okay." He closed his eyes.
She turned to her table of implements and selected a medium penis gag pierced by a dual-flow drug delivery tube. She pressed its head to his lips, and he opened his mouth to accept it. She pulled the straps smoothly around his head and snugged them at the back. He gagged only for an instant as she slipped the tube past his glottis.
She hooked the tube to her tank of don't-care and started the flow. The viscous white fluid inched up the tube, through the gag, and trickled down his throat. It took about two minutes for the soporific-relaxant in the drug to take effect. All the boy's muscles went gently limp. His breathing slowed and deepened, took on a faint snore.
"Need any help, Lil?" Gail stood with her arms crossed and one eyebrow raised.
Lillian shook her head. "No, I don't think so. Come back for him in an hour or so. If he's meant for Andre, I'm going to be particularly careful."
"Gotcha." Gail sauntered out.
Lillian watched her new charge for a moment before resuming her task. He was short and slender, obviously not as well nourished as a boy his age ought to be. He showed many of the marks of a life on the streets, with its sporadic episodes of exposure, violence and abuse. Yet there was a subtle sweetness about him, a gentleness and a reserve of character that the abrasions of the city's underworld had not yet managed to scour out of him.
"Well, he'll be able to add a night as a sex toy to his resume, for all the good it will do him."
She picked up her dilator nozzle, fitted it onto the hose that ran to the big tank of antibiotic lubricant, and inspected the boy's anus. Gail had cleaned him up thoroughly, but there were indications of recent insult to the sphincter that would require delicate treatment.
"He's been taken there before.
I don't want Andre hurting him. He's been through enough."
She greased the stainless steel nozzle evenly, laid the tapered tip against the waiting anus, and began a circular caress designed to tease the orifice open. After a minute or two, the sphincter was regularly expanding and contracting in harmony with her ministrations. She added a little forward pressure to her circlings, and the nozzle's eight inch length slid smoothly into the boy's rear. Only a slight quiver in his buttocks betrayed his body's accommodation of the intruder.
Whoever had violated him hadn't been scrupulous about his health. Lillian would be. When the nozzle was properly seated, the boy's anus snug around its rear neck, she started the flow of lubricant. A faint, low rumble told of the gentle lavage of the boy's bowels by the protective gel.
"Thirty minutes of this, then a little calibration, and he'll be ready."
She set her timer, picked up a medical journal, and sat down to wait.
***
The timer chimed. Lillian laid down her journal, rose and inspected her charge. He was still sleeping peacefully. She shut off the don't-care and the flow of lubricant, eased the dilator nozzle out of him, and unbuckled the mouth unit. The penis gag flopped out of his limp mouth, a last few drops of the don't-care drug dribbling onto his lips.
"He took it well. I hope he comes through the evening as well."
The reading on the lubricant tank appeared satisfactory. Enough had been left in his body to coat his large intestine, but not enough to compel him to evacuate. The dosage of don't-care had been large, but she always erred on the side of caution with Andre's playthings.
The residual effect of the don't-care drug would keep him relaxed while Andre took him.The bowel lubricant would protect him against whatever foul things swam in the old pederast's loins. Afterward there would be a hot meal, a new set of warm clothes, and five hundred dollars to offset the memory of having been snatched off the street to be used like a blow-up doll.
She never saw any of them again. At first, she'd wondered what became of them, but no longer.
The angry tissue around the boy's sphincter had lost most of its redness. He was already responding to the antibiotics and anti-inflammatories in the lubricant. It was a good sign.
She reviewed her obturators. From his reaction to the dilator nozzle, she decided that she could skip the initial few, and selected the inch-wide one. She lubed it carefully and pressed it against his anus, and it slid in without resistance. Once he was fully penetrated, she began a gentle stretching program. Two minutes later, she was satisfied, removed the obturator and picked up its largest cousin, the one and a half inch caliber that most closely resembled the dimensions of an erect adult penis. That, too, entered his body without resistance. She resumed her stretching massage.
"Oooh."
His coo startled her. She hadn't expected him to waken so soon, given the large amount of don't-care she'd fed him. But the sound was the only indication that he'd returned to consciousness. He was still completely relaxed. He didn't move or attempt to fight his bonds. She kept swirling the obturator against the walls of his rectum, slowly loosening their grip.
"That's nice."
In her surprise she almost pulled the instrument out of him. "You like this?"
"Yes. Do it some more." The dreamy quality of his voice said that he was still very much in the grip of the soporific, but his buttocks had begun to rock in time to her rotary massage of his rectum.
On impulse, she stepped to the side and peered under the edge of the treatment table. Though the boy's upper body showed no tension, it was otherwise for his genitals. His penis had swelled into a ruddy and impressive erection, and his balls were tight up against his body.
She went back to work. His rocking became more pronounced against her instrument, and he began to emit regular little grunts of pleasure, as a man in the last stages of coitus will.
She reached under the table and found his penis. It was thick and hot in her hand. She closed her fingers around it gently and massaged it in time to her strokes in his rear. He cooed again, and there was no mistaking the import.
It wasn't long before he came. It was a slow, protracted, shuddering orgasm that seemed to drain all the tension from both of them and pour it onto the floor as pearly white fluid. She stroked him dry, released his wilting organ and carefully withdrew the obturator from his anus.
"He has the gift of surrender."
She'd seen it before, though rarely. There were a few lucky ones who, with a little help from the don't-care drug, could accept all that was done to them, to the point of embracing it and giving themselves to it. No doubt it was a protection against the irregular savageries that life on the margins of society inflicted on them.
"I wish I could do that."
She'd learned only one armor for her soul: not to think about what she did. Even that failed her, now and then.
She glanced at her watch. Gail would be back soon.
"Peter," she murmured, "do you have an idea what's going to happen next?"
"Yes." There was no particular fright in his voice.
It was an absurd relief to hear it. "Well, I'm going to try to mitigate it a bit." She extracted a codeine-based anaesthetic cream from her supply cabinet, scooped out a generous amount with her fingers, and massaged it carefully into the boy's anus and the surrounding flesh.
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Keywords: Of, Surrender, The, Gift,