1 comments/ 69625 views/ 2 favorites The Gift Of Surrender By: ldrequiv 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. He cooed again, and his buttocks quivered as before. "I wish," he said, and fell silent. "What do you wish?" "That you would keep doing that forever." It halted her momentarily. She shook herself and resumed, one eye on her watch. "Are you bisexual, Peter?" "Whatever." "Hm?" "I don't think about it much." "I see." The cream had disappeared into his flesh. She scooped out a little more and pushed it into his anus, running her index finger gently around its walls. He cooed and rocked against her again. "It won't be like this. Andre is... not gentle. With luck, what I've done will protect you from physical harm, but you'll have to be strong. Remember that it's just one night. After that you'll never see this place again." He said nothing. She slid her finger out of his anus, leaned close to him and said, "Will you be all right?" He blinked and grinned faintly. "I think so. I just wish..." "What, Peter?" She caressed his shoulder. "Never mind." The door opened and Gail entered, leash in hand. *** As glad as Lillian was to have Mondays and Tuesdays for herself, she was often bored by the evening, and desperate for some untried way to keep herself amused. The clubs she frequented were all weekend-only enterprises. After a while, television and recorded movies would pall on anyone. She couldn't read medical journals for two days straight. So, when the weather was good, she dressed in her highest style and walked the city, enjoying the sights and being enjoyed as one. She'd learned how to detect male admiration, and took great pleasure from being its object. It was almost never actively expressed, merely a matter of focused attention and a brightened expression. It was particularly sweet when a man of later years took note of her. The supposedly dampened older libido was more capable of being stirred by youthful beauty than most people cared to admit -- and was grateful for the experience, as limited as it might be. It made the effort of her conditioning program and the little inconveniences of her grooming and couture seem entirely worthwhile. It also helped her forget her lack of a mate she could devote herself to pleasing, someone who would look at her like that every evening of their lives. She was strolling the shopping district, headed nowhere, thinking of nothing, when she caught a stiletto heel in a subway ventilation grille. Her ankle strap staggered her with its backward yank. She started to pitch forward, threw her hands in front of her to break her fall, and was caught from behind by a pair of thin, strong arms. They arrested her fall, pulled her upright. She turned to thank her Samaritan and reeled in shock, nearly falling again. "Peter!" He nodded, put one hand on her ankle and the other under her foot, and carefully freed her shoe from the grille. "You nearly busted your ankle." He smiled. He was a far cry from the frightened young man Gail had brought to her weeks before. He stood straight, in a relaxed but confident posture. His flannel shirt and jeans were free of holes or stains, and his running shoes looked almost new. It was impossible to think of him as the street urchin he'd been when they met. "How -- how have you been?" She was unable to conceal her surprise. "A lot better, thanks. How about you?" "I'm okay." Had he been following her? "What are you doing down here?" He waved westward. "I have a room in an SRO a few blocks that way. I like to window shop, when I have time." "Are you working?" He nodded. "Sales help at Albrecht's. It's not much, but it pays the rent, and my boss likes me. What about you?" She shrugged as the sense of having come unmoored from reality overtook her. "I just like to walk." His eyes darted to her feet. "In those?" "It's a long story." The way he looked at her was more disturbing than any examination she'd ever endured. She reminded herself that she'd seen him naked, had visited indignities on him that most boys his age would rather die than accept. "There's a pretty nice cafe around the corner," he said. "Join me for a cup?" She hesitated, then nodded. He offered her his arm. *** He toyed with the stirring rod in his coffee. "I've wanted very much to see you again." She tensed. "You haven't been following me, have you?" He chuckled. "No. This really was an accident." "Well, why?" His eyes rose to meet hers. "To thank you. You were so nice to me, that day. I was at the bottom of my life, and you lifted me up. You and that other lady." "Gail." She struggled with her confusion. "How did we do that?" "By doing what you did. I was a homeless boy kidnapped off the street to be raped by a stranger, but you took such good care of me, it was as if I were the guest of honor at a party." His eyes crinkled. "Gail kept telling me how the hard part would be over in an hour or so, and I'd get to sleep in a real bed, and get a good meal and fresh clothes and money before I had to go out again. Lil," he said with sudden energy, "you can't imagine how good that sounded. I'd been sleeping under a hedge for four straight nights. You can't imagine how good it was." "The price --" He waved it away. "It wasn't the first time." She'd known that from examining him, but to hear him say it pulled her thoughts back to his night in bondage. His ascent to dignity rolled over her a second time. It was hard to remember the gaunt, helpless boy she'd ministered to, the boy he'd been. It was impossible to think of him as the sort of creature that hid from the weather under shrubs, or scavenged for his meals in dumpsters. "So you used the money to get established." He nodded. "The hard part was finding a place to stay. Once I had that, everything else fell into line. Do you know how desperate for help Albrecht's is? They're paying me nine dollars an hour just to be nice to people and show them where things are." And there are people in this city who claim they can't find work. "Peter, I'm... well, 'bowled over' isn't really strong enough. I couldn't have imagined this. It's wonderful beyond my ability to describe. I'm so glad." He swirled his stirrer in his cup. "I've wanted to see you so much, Lil." "Why? To thank me?" "No." His face reddened with the glow of desire, and his expression heated to an unmistakable pitch. "There was more." A third shockwave raced through her. Strain as she might, she could not prevent it from shaking her visibly. He reached across the table to take her hand. She gripped his fingers with manic strength. "Lil, are you okay?" When the tremors had passed, she rose, dropped a ten-dollar bill on the table and said, "Come with me." *** He stepped cautiously into her apartment and looked about with a child's delight. "Lil, this is great!" She smiled. "Thank you." She'd lived with opulence long enough that she seldom noticed her own material blessings. Watching him ogle her fine leather furniture, her velvet drapes, the wide-screen television and the huge stereo system that she'd come to take for granted reminded her that there were compensations for her own kind of bondage. He moved toward the corner where her mini-office was set up, gave his attention to the diplomas and certificates that hung on the wall behind her computer. His eyes went wide. "You're a doctor?" he stammered. "Two years now." He turned to face her. "Then why --?" She bit her lip and looked away. "It wasn't my idea. At least my employer pays me well." "Who is he?" "She," she said. "I don't know her name. We all call her Mistress. All we know about her is where her establishment is. No one there has ever seen her on the street. Our paychecks are drawn on an anonymous account at a bank in the Caymans." "How did she recruit you?" He swallowed. "Like me?" The cords of her neck tightened. "Sort of." He watched her expectantly. Am I ready for this? He deserves to know. She set her purse down on an end table. Her hands went to the buttons on her skirt. Her fingers trembled as she undid them. The knee-length sweep of raw silk slid to the floor. A moment later, her panties followed. For a few seconds the silence was absolute. She stood perfectly still at the center of her living room, not daring to look away from him. He seemed to glide forward on a carpet of air. When he descended to his knees before her, she kept looking straight forward, over his head. She felt his hands on her calves, and the warmth of his breath upon her groin. "Lily," he whispered. "Oh my Lily." His palms trailed lightly along her nylon-covered legs and settled upon her buttocks as his lips enveloped the head of her erect penis. *** They held one another in the warmth and the darkness. "Is there anything you don't enjoy?" she said. "If you think of something, try it on me. I'll let you know." "What about being bound and gagged? Did you get a thrill out of that?" "Sure, once I realized you were a good guy. Gal. When did you have the implants and the depilations?" he said. "After high school.." "You went to college as a girl?" "From the first day. I was a total failure as a boy, being this short and slender. I knew it would be worse in college." She let her hands slide over his flanks. He pressed himself closer against her. "The communal bathrooms were a little tricky, but I never regretted it." "How come you never...? "Went the rest of the way? At first it was fear. Now I'm used to being what I am. I don't want to change it." "That's her hold on you, isn't it? She could ruin any practice you set up, just by letting your patients know." "You've got it." She snorted a laugh. "I never thought a doctor might have to undress in front of her patients. At least she pays me well. Probably a lot more than I could make in practice. A few more years of this and I'll never have to work again." The Gift Of Surrender He said nothing. She propped herself on an elbow and studied his face. "How do you fancy being a kept man?" "I don't." "But --" "I'm going to keep working, Lil. I like the feeling of being useful to someone, useful enough to be worth money." "You won't need it." "Yes, I will. Maybe just for self-respect, but I will. I do." He reached over and pulled her down upon him, and she settled her cheek against his chest. "Maybe you'll trust me after a while," she said. "Lil," he said, "I trust you now. I just want to be a real person for a while. Does it bother you that much?" She started to speak, cut herself off. It has nothing to do with me. I should learn ways of relating to other people that don't require straps and handcuffs. "There is one thing, though," he said. "What?" There was a moment's silence, and she began to worry. When he finally spoke, his voice was almost too soft to be audible. "How would you like it if I were like you?" The surge of excitement that passed through her brought her near to a faint. She was immediately erect against him. "I think I'd love it. How would you like it?" He put his hands to her face and brushed his lips over hers. "I think I'd love it too." "You don't have to, you know." He nodded. "I want to. I want to be everything to you. I want to make you feel the way you've made me feel." "Accepted? Appreciated?" "Loved." One of his hands slid down to probe her bottom; the other snaked between them and wrapped itself around her penis. "This is a good combination of equipment. No matter what mood we're in, we could find something to do with it. Besides," he said, grinning, "Albrecht's would probably pay a pretty girl even more." Lillian felt the entire burden of her past and her condition fall away, like a weight she'd carried unknowingly and had only just thought to release. It was so palpable a sense of liberation that she expected to float off the bed and bump against the ceiling. "You'd be out of circulation for a while," she said. "We'd have to get you a new identity." "You've done it before." "Just reminding you. No one would recognize you. You'd lose all your friends. You'd be leaving your past behind." He hugged her with surprising strength. "I know what's for keeping and what's for throwing away. It'll take a while before I can afford it, though." "I'll pay for it." His mouth dropped open. "Thank you. Would you let me --" "No. Consider it a gift." He started to argue, then relaxed. "Thank you, Lil. Will you make the arrangements?" "First thing tomorrow. Is there anything else, Peter?" "Well, now that you mention it..." He nudged her aside and turned to expose his buttocks to her. "Do you have any of that anesthetic cream here?" "Did I hurt you?" She peered at his anus, but saw nothing untoward. "No, but we might need it in the morning. For both of us." "Ah. I think we'll manage. I am a doctor, you know." "How could I forget?" "As if I would let you." She reached for the lubricant. "Careful with my exit door, Doctor." "Don't worry." She slid a generously lubricated index finger into his anus, and he began to rock against her hand. "I have a lot of experience in this area." -- The End --