This disclaimer must
be read before reading further:
The following story
is fictional and contains explicit pornographic material; it is not for minors
or the close-minded.
Alex Streuth is the pseudonym of the author and a fictional
character in these stories. Any
characters, places, businesses and/or circumstances etc. described herein are
entirely fictional. None of the
following is based on real organisms or organizations, and any semblance to
anyone or anything real, living, deceased or imaginary, is purely coincidental.
This story is
copyrighted (October 2005) by the author with permission granted to make copies
only for personal use, they may not be redistributed to others.
The author cannot be
responsible for the existence or delivery of any content which some may find
offensive; reader be warned, by continuing further with this document you agree
not to hold any party responsible for the delivery or existence of its
contents.
Due to the extreme
nature of the following material the author advises anyone who has stumbled
across this document by mistake to destroy it if it is in the form of a hard
copy, or to delete it and then write over its memory address if it is a soft
copy.
Thank you and enjoy
the following quality presentation.
--
Continuity and Background:
This story takes place within the charming
dominion of
You may find the graphic novel
“Stepford Bound” (by Benson) useful for further reference.) Other influences come from My Gag Order,
Thndrshark
, and
Gord
(also
see
GordBooks
.)
The prominent themes are
humiliation, degradation, mental conditioning, transformation, modification, bimbofication, objectification, big boobs, huge lips,
forced feeding, dehumanization, helpless females, Dominant males, and long term
suffering and servitude.
---
About the Author: My hobbies include collecting, examining, and
designing. I sometimes come across
inspiring stories or goings-on about Cherish and have been asked by the “Committee
for the Preservation of the Historical Record of Proper Female Deportment” (the
CPHD) to assemble and detail these accounts for posterity.
Authorship Disclosure: The following material originates from
personal first-person observations, from video recordings, diaries, medical and
scientific notes and other privately held (and confidential) sources, as well
as from public town events and records.
I then transpose these accounts into the third person and pen these
tales in my free time. While this is
intended as a work of non-fiction for Cherish public record some dramatic and editorial license has been
taken to help increase readership interest.
Also, as I am extremely busy
not all of the gathered data can be included in each presentation. If you are an accredited researcher with a
genuine academic interest you may be allowed access to more extensive
information. In order to request this
more thorough (and graphically detailed) explanation of certain material
presented, please send your request (noting with which area of record your
particular interest lies) to Streuthanasia@gmail.com.
A Cage for
Nightingale
Prologue
Aurora Nightingale came from a long line of illustrious singers. She had a voice of pure honey and dew, soft
and fragile, yet smooth and rich. Men
and women alike came to hear her sultry voice and watch as she performed
classic tales of romance and love. She
attracted many fans and admirers, and invited more prominent guests backstage
after the shows for private receptions.
While not the most gifted businesswoman herself,
This evening a young Middle Eastern man, one Ali Akbar Maalik, who had been charmed by the entrancing performer and had been attending her shows regularly for the past month while he had been visiting America finally got up the courage to make it to the more private setting of the backstage area.
He nervously coughed and then rapped timidly on the wooden
door with the gold star that barred entrance to
Ali’s Uncle was an important man back home, involved in the Oil Business and connected in some not unimportant way to the royal family. While Ali was no Prince, he was certainly connected enough to warrant a bodyguard. He had told his to take a break for dinner so that he could visit the singer privately.
After a moment he knocked softly again, this time pushing the door open a bit with his rapping. He did not want to be rude but it was his most dire desire to deliver these flowers so he pushed the ajar door open a bit more to accommodate his gift and in the process came across a fervent lovemaking session between Aurora and her manager.
Ali, a devout man, stood mouth agape at this sight, at first shocked and then, his mind awhirl, realizing the insult and affront to God that was occurring before his very eyes. He grew angry as he watched:
“Oh
“Shut up and suck me, bitch, I was great wasn’t I?”
“Oh yes, oh yes oh god, oh yes you were, you’re always great, mmmmmm.”
“Mmmm, suck it, that’s it, oh god, mmmmm.”
Ali’s eyes were agog. The flowers he had planned on giving to his wondrous pearl fell, forgotten, to the floor out of his limp hand, now clutching into a fist. A little part of him was aroused, but mainly he felt betrayed and made a fool of. This admixture of feelings created an odd sensation that swept up from his toes to his loins, like electricity, eliciting a rampant growth in his pants and a strong sense of majesty to reach up and shock his fingers. He wanted her, now, but he also was full of rage.
“What is this!?” he shouted. “You dare engage in forbidden congress and shame yourself before Allah?”
--
That had been three days ago. Of course no charges had been brought,
officially, being wealthy and powerful ensured that a diplomatic episode was
avoided, but Ali had been barred informally from any further
More importantly though, after seeing Aurora in vile congress with another woman, after seeing her in her private moments, Ali’s mind had watched her fall from the pedestal he had set her upon. It hurt him deeply to try to reconcile his two visions of her, the one he had had of her before of that radiant and beautiful angel he had watched so adoringly perform, night after night, and the heathen and unnatural abomination in the eyes of God he had watched for those few moments in her room.
His mind fought over this.
Sometimes he saw her as gutter trash, lying in the darker part of his
mind, broken and beaten; when he thought of her this way he seethed. Other times though, he hurt, as though stung
in the shoulder, as he thought of the loss of his Angel, it seemed impossible
to think that she was really gone forever.
Was it possible then that she still was this Angel, underneath, or
perhaps that the other woman he had seen (whom he had done extensive research
on after the attack) her manager, Gail Tyte—and as he
spoke her name in his mind he recalled the violence she had done to him and he
cringed—was actually the problem.
Perhaps if she were not around
He went over the events of that night in his mind, over and
over as he focused on them, and eventually he realized a way out of his pain,
in fact, yes, he had been foolish. It
had not been
It seemed perfectly clear now, it all made sense. He could still have his dream,
He remembered vividly lying there, doubled over, helpless on the floor in Aurora’s room, hearing her yell at him shrilly, telling him that she was going to say that he had tried to rape her. Oh how he remembered the hate in Gail’s face, the virulence in her voice.
Gail meanwhile, had been given her own separate room in
Ali’s imagination, and while it was at the same height as
Having been put as high up as
--
Ali’s father had sent his son on a trip to
It had not surprised him but worried him when he had learned
that his son had gone to
His father did not have all of the details of that night, only that his son had gotten into trouble, but he worried that his son was now lost in his thoughts (retreating into his fantasies) and avoiding dinner.
His father knew that his son’s brooding was unhealthy but let it go on for a few days, thinking it would pass. Finally, seeing no end in sight, he gathered his son before him and got his full attention:
“Son, whatever it is that is troubling you, don’t just sit there, do something about it.”
Chapter 1, a delivery
is made
Alex Streuth answered the phone, “Streuth Industries, LLC how can I help you?”
He tapped his pencil idly beside his drawing board, he was
working on a subtle design change in some of the framing devices he used in the
gallery; some of the pieces had wriggled free and caused a disruption during
the last show.
“Yes, yes, that’s right, mergers and acquisitions. Mmm , hmmmm, who is this? Oh, oh I see, well forgive me for my evasion, its just that prudence is required in this line of work. Tell you what, while I can’t give you any details over the phone why don’t we meet in person, I assure you that if you do indeed require my services that it will be worth your time, be more expedient in the long run, and even probably provide you with more of what you want if you can be present for the execution of the orders.”
“Not a problem. Great, ok good we’ll work out the details in person then. A pleasure, bye.”
Alex made a note in his calendar for the next day. He had only worked infrequently with the Arabs, as they had quite a good amount of their own resources to exercise in the interests of filling their Harems, and had a quite a good amount of stock already in their thrall, but, from time to time, especially now that he had started taking higher profile assignments, he had been able to provide them with minor celebrities that had caught their eye.
“Nothing from the pages of Playboy”, he had told them, they could be bought legally anyway, at least for a period of time, but from some of the less mainstream publications, they could ‘consider it a catalogue.’
It was also nice for Alex to have some contacts in that part of the world as it made the thought of opening a branch office more realistic. One of his clients, for example, had given him a small parcel of land in a remote part of the country as a way of thanking Alex for an order he was especially pleased with. The problem with using the land, however, was the same problem as dealing with a sovereignty ruled by one man; they can be capriciousness. It would not do to have the land, and, after developing it, have it later be later re-annexed back into the nation if the Sovereign (who was, alas, not a client) were to somehow become displeased.
However, if the land could be developed in such a manner as to allow for a more fluid (less committed) operation, one with a quick logistic turnaround in case liquidation and flight proved necessary, then it could prove to be a haven. Some of the people in Cherish had started to voice conservative opinions about some of the processes and methods Alex and Dr. Spencer employed. It was not the final results they were upset with, of course, only the way in which they were achieved, and this was in much the same way that a woman might enjoy her cosmetics but whine about the fact that they had been tested on animals; there was no pleasing some people.
So, Alex had been talking to Spencer, and, if Spencer’s personal security could be guaranteed (‘I’d be working their too Herbert’) and escape plans and emergency evacuation procedures could be put in place Spencer Labs could see a branch opening (with a possible entire relocation) in the near future. It was all a matter of politics really. The board had voted to allow the Doctor and his clinic to continue to operate, but, moral qualms with developmental methods aside, another Cherish business was simply using public perceptions about the lab to help themselves corner the market.
Alex sighed, maybe it would be
simpler to have the research and experimental procedures done in a part of the
world where they would all but be operating in their own fiefdom. The existing buildings in Cherish would
remain of course, but they would stop doing research and become more of a
factory for already accepted procedures and processing. The profit margin could be maintained; in
fact it would cost less to operate the research and women’s studies areas of
the business in
Alex sighed again, the whole thing was giving him a headache, all of the logistics. He had done it all before in the nurturing bosom of Cherish but that had not been from scratch, this would be like developing a Cherish all on his own and it was complicated. There were cultural differences as well, while he could hire people to translate it was the hallmark of a good business that discretion be maintained, and additional people meant more inquiry into what exactly they did at S.I. LLC.”
It wouldn’t be as though there were any Senators that could be paid off either, or any lobbying for legislature: Streuth smiled at that thought though, for he could count on one hand the amount of bills that Congress had passed in the past month that had not had the inclusion of some small, technical addition written by his own pen. On the other hand, though, that could be as much a boon as a bother, while there wouldn’t be an easy out if a problem were to occur with the ruling family, it would also be a lot more difficult for them to upset the ruling family (seeing as how, with a family in charge, there would be fewer people to keep pleased.) Again, the matter of discretion would play a large role in minimizing the need for this type of ‘damage control.’
He momentarily entertained the paranoid fantasy of some research subject’s angry brother riding out in the middle of the night and dismembering him in his sleep due to some sloppily-researched acquisition. . . Ahh, here in the states, with due process, and bureaucratic corruption it was so much simpler. If he made a mistake during an order he simply filed the paperwork and appropriate payouts were made. The less anyone knew of Cherish’s true purpose the better, and people were always happy to take a bribe so long as they thought they were part of some ‘good old boy’ system. ‘Scratch yours you’ll scratch mine’ Alex thought.
And therein lied the crux, he realized. The reason he was nervous about setting up an
ancillary operation in the
--
Well, he checked his calendar, gazing at the note he had just made, Ali Maalik, hmmm, surely an Arabian name if any, but was he connected?
First things first, he would have to meet the man and do a little fact-finding. He could count on the other hand (several times over) the amount of times he met someone in person who had perhaps, ah, misrepresented themselves over the phone. Usually an upset husband or other non-Cherish affiliated person who had gotten his number from a friend of a friend but who would simply be better off with a private detective.
Alex usually directed them to the offices of one of the P.I.’s who worked near him, his referrals acting as nice barter for the returned ‘professional courtesy’ [as Alex represented himself as a felloe P. I.] of a tip-off in the event that any of them had been contacted by potential clients who were interested in investigating him.
Having this small gaggle of professional ‘friends’ gave Alex the space that he needed, both physically and mentally, to operate the small corporate headquarters and front for Streuth Industries in a busy, modern city replete with a major airport, and safely away from Cherish proper.
--
It was a very short distance therefore, for Alex to have to
travel to meet Mr. Maalik, as he had agreed to fly
into town and meet the next day in a diner.
After doing a quick, surreptitious sweep of the area and of his client with
discreet anti-espionage devices (ubiquitous in the P.I. industry) to determine
if any of the area was bugged (‘can’t be too paranoid’, Alex thought,
especially after having had to deal with some individuals who had been
reporters) he settled down for their talk:
Aurora Nightingale is a lesbian, is she, Alex thought, smiling to himself, as the conversation continued. “Mr. Prince (the two had settled on this moniker for Maalik) you can rest assured that this order can and will be completed in a detailed and timely manner.” Alex twirled the little umbrella in his drink. He glanced to the side as though checking for privacy (although he already knew they were speaking in privacy due to his devices, but, he wanted to affect an air of confidentiality and this gesture was almost universally known throughout the world as saying ‘and now, what I’m about to tell you next is for your ears only, you’re special!’) before continuing in a hushed tone: “You can even be there for the acquisition, would you like that?” Alex smiled a little more evilly as he watched his client’s eyes light up.
“Yes, Mr. Streuth, that would be,” Prince paused for a moment, pursing his lips and getting a radiant glow across his face, “that would be very good.”
Alex sniffed a little, rubbing his left index finger across his nose in self-consciousness of their poses. He straightened up and again resumed a mask of propriety, he made a little moue, considering their next move. “Well, I’ll tell you what, there’s really no reason to wait, why don’t we travel together now, and we can get this done right away actually.”
Ali looked at him in surprise and then, after a moment, nodded. He followed Alex into his van.
--
“The thing with performers, you see, especially ones who are not famous really outside of a locality, and those here in Las Vegas, mostly, qualify, is that their appetites for attention from people who they think can get them national exposure is huge.”
Prince thought about this for a second and then agreed, tacitly.
“Well let me tell you, watch, when we get there, you will have to stay away, since they know what you look like, but, watch, you will see.”
Alex pulled behind the theatre, parking in the area for deliveries, backing in so that the back of the van was close to the loading door and then hopped out. He had on a delivery man uniform, and underneath a formal outfit so that he could make a quick-change. He walked up to the loading door and tipped his utility hat to one of the men working nearby. He waved and then continued his work. Alex got a large crate out of the back of the van, large enough to hold two bound women, and loaded it onto a dolly, before wheeling it out and knocking on the loading door. No one answered but after a moment the man Alex had tipped his hat to earlier came running up with a set of keys and unlocked it for him, making slight apology.
“Just sign here please”, Alex said, showing him a standard
delivery manifest with the big red letters ‘Signer
is responsible for any damage, and, under the terms of insurance, can be liable
for up to $100,000 or the maximum allowed by law.’
The man looking hesitantly at the crate and then motioned for Alex to take it inside, “Uh, they’ll sign for it in there.”
Alex balked a tiny bit but pushed the crate inside, parking it just inside and closing the door behind him. He levered the top of the crate off so that he revealed the contents, a bouquet of flowers and a heavy suitcase. He changed out of his workman’s outfit, picked up the flowers and the heavy suitcase and lumbered down the hall to the star’s door.
He pressed his ear up against it and could hear the tell-tale sound of Sapphic lovemaking. He smiled to himself, then knocked loudly on the door, giving the two women time to clean up. He was slightly surprised to not find any security posted to the door but assumed it was far enough away from showtime that they might not have come on-duty yet. [The young women had, in fact, sent their security detail away so that they could have their ‘business meeting’ in private.] He was also delighted to find the women here, he wasn’t sure if he would have to come by later. No doubt they had taken the opportunity to ‘conference’ in privacy now so as to avoid the later crowd.
Gail opened the door, looking annoyed but then her face melting to mildly pleasant surprise when she saw Streuth [or at least, his suit and his expensive watch.] Alex poured on the charm, making a big deal of the fact that he was carrying a heavy suitcase, pretending infirmity and slowly making his way inside through bluster and smiles.
Gail offered to help him with the suitcase, and he was happy
to give it to her. She had bought his
story of fame and money and rocketing to stardom and she was eager to see what
kind of offer was in the case Alex was bringing in. A moment later Alex strode over to
He grabbed two large trash bags out of the case, unfolding
the case itself to form a gurney, and then wrapped Gail and put her onto it, hurrying
her unconscious body down the hall before folding it into the large crate. Usually this work would be done by a
retrieval team but Alex had seen it done a hundred times and was getting a
thrill working on his own. He carried a
stun gun in his hip pocket in case anyone came upon him. He went back and got
After getting both of them into the crate he folded the suitcase up again, went back to the room and turned on the vents to clear the gas out of the room, and then packed up some of the girls clothes and their purses to hint at a voluntary egress.
He went back to the loading door and after putting the workmen’s uniform back on he went out with the crate. The man who had helped him earlier looked at him curiously and he replied with a grumpy look “Wrong address” and the man laughed softly.
Loaded up and ready to go Alex took off, inviting Mr. Prince, who had dutifully remained hidden in the back of the van during the operation to open the crate and view its contents.
Chapter 2, Some
Remedy is reached
Gail woke, groggily, moaning softly at a dull ache in her temple. She felt sort of numb all over, just a bit, and shook her head to clear the cobwebs. She heard the tinkle of little bells. She opened her eyes, but darkness greeted her, she was confused, and felt a sense of vertigo. She tried swinging around with her arms to feel the floor, but felt nothing. She tried to open her eyes again but they were already open. Seated, as she was, on a lush cushion of fine Arabian pillow, her legs numb and unresponsive to her commands, it felt as though her entire bottom half was missing. Her arms were similarly numb, and, while they flailed around, smacking into each other and dangling like the limbs of a marionette, she could not sense their presence. She felt their weight, slightly, in her shoulders and upper body, but, other than that, she was clueless.
She tried blowing air next; to push whatever might be in front of her away, to clear her vision. She tried squinting, but through all her efforts she saw only black. Slowly, accompanied by the sound of rustling, she could see a slight gauzy haze opening up in front of her. The haze became brighter, as though layers of her vision were being given to her, painstakingly slowly though, because Ali was enjoying her helplessness and was not being quick in giving anything to her, least likely her sight.
She was in a room, lit moodily in red and pink, with lilac and incense in the air, the sounds and smells coming to her as more material was lifted from her face. She could hear soft moaning in the distance, and the familiar sound of feminine bodies rubbing against each other. A male hand was moving up and down in front of her face, she was very nervous now, in this strange place, and she tried to remember what had happened.
Eventually all of the veils had been removed except for one, and she could see almost clearly now. That bastard boy who had interrupted her and Aurora earlier, giving her such a fright that anyone might know their secret, was here, in front of her now. She struggled to thrash against him and could see her arms now, though she could not feel them. She threw them against him, dumbly, not caring that they were acting as dead weight on her body. Instead of her finely coordinated defenses coming to her aid, her martial arts training that had felled this man-boy so quickly in the past, she wept at the sight of her now useless arms bumbling about in a feeble mockery of their previous grandness.
“Hello puppet,” Ali said, mockingly. He showed a toothy grin, bringing his hairy face close up next to hers and moving in to absorb her mounting fear. His breath stank a bit and she recoiled from him, leaning backwards until she was lying down on the pillows, her legs still leaden and numb, anchoring her to her position. “Mmmm, you sure do look much more pretty now, though don’t you. Not so tough now?”
She might not be able to beat him the way her mind was
aching to, but she could certainly voice her quickly rising anger, anger that
this, this, boy would dare to treat her in such a way. Anger that he was here, now, slowly moving to
mount her, she, Gail, who had never enjoyed a man’s touch and never had sex
with a man in her life. She, Gail, who
had acted so like a man in her relationship with
Ali smiled nastily down at her as he started twiddling with her pants, untying the rope that held them tight to her frame, and then sliding them down, exposing her netherveils. He continued his pleasant smile, letting the tension build, as, one by one he began to pluck these sheets of tissue paper thin pieces of defense from her private spot. With each one he removed he held it up for her to see before tossing it, crumpled, to the side.
“Nrgg, nrgg!” Gail yelled, her numb tongue slurring her speech. She wasn’t even sure she had a tongue but Ali grinned and showed teeth when he saw it flopping about stupidly in her mouth. To prevent any mishaps her teeth had been removed during surgery, giving her a pleasantly harmless hole where once had been a tiger’s maw.
“What’s that puppet, you want me to stop? Puppets don’t get to give orders to their Masters, oh no they don’t, puppets do what they’re told, and they don’t talk unless they’re supposed to.”
Ali continued to slowly remove the tissue veils from in front of her cunny, but snapped his right hand to signal the operator above when he had gotten down to the last couple.
Suddenly, without warning, and certainly against her wishes, Gail stood straight up, now realizing that her limbs had bands running around them, which in turn had wires attached. Without any response from her, her limbs (all of them now the proud owners of useless tendons) jumped around as though performing a dance. The operator above was controlling her movements with the wires, coordinating her movements currently to just make her stand and move jerkily, she looked quite silly when she moved, like a toy doll. The wires that ran to her arms and legs were the only ones taut, however, the other ones were not: Ali looked up at the operator and barked an order in Arabic. The operator sweated for a moment before finding fixing the error.
The tension on Gail’s limbs suddenly ceased, not that she had felt it before, but prior to that moment the operator had been, foolishly, supporting her via just her arm and leg wires, not utilizing the support wires attached around her torso, thighs, and the top of her head. Her movements became much more regular now, giving her a semblance of grace, while retaining the slight hurky motions of a puppet that had Ali clapping for her.
“Very good, very good my puppet, now dance for me.” Gail began to dance, her eyes glowing hatred for her captor, a dark fuel powering up inside of her, coal smoke burning in her mind, a fire raging, consuming, her every desire becoming to rip the man’s head off and smash his eyes in. Such thoughts were easily read behind her features, and Ali had no illusions as to her wishes, but she was impotent, a tool, useless as a person now, and so much fun to watch. Her breasts heaved and fell, jiggling mightily under the ministrations of the unseen puppeteer. They felt inordinately heavy, and as Gail stared, she realized that they were at least three times as large as before.
“What the fuck!” she yelled, but it came out more like “Nrrg, nrrg, nrrg!’ Ali clapped for her again, politely, amused by her attempts at speech, before walking over to her and snatching the thin gauzy pink veils individually from off each of her gigantic tits. Where before they had held some semblance of mystery swaying and bobbling under the floating semi-transparent veils they were now bare. Gail’s fat nipples stared back at Ali and he laughed at how readily she was plucked. He gripped her heavy teats in his hands and felt their weight. Gail flinched as he pinched the nipples. Next he played with them like punching bags, watching them recoil and then bounce forwards again.
He stopped this to grope them, squeezing them before pushing them apart and watching them bounce back. Amused by the look of horror on Gail’s face, he continued to play with them, smacking them down playfully and watching them bounce back up, the augmentation keeping them pointing out prettily from her torso at an almost perpendicular angle. “So lovely,” he said.
Gail fumed, but, slowly, her mind was being overwhelmed, she couldn’t keep this anger up in the face of her helplessness and her body being treated like an object only made it worse. She felt, as her limbs danced her around, more and more, as her artificial tits were put on display, as though she were an object. She had felt, initially, as though she were a prisoner trapped in this body, and that this body was a toy, a plaything; that she was inside of it. But now, where before her limbs had felt only numbness, her tits, surprisingly, were more sensitive than before, and as Ali played with them she felt herself drawn out, until she was a part of the toy, as though the puppet he was playing with was her.
When he moved in to caress her cheek and the nerves in her face felt him stroking her the reality of it all just came rushing in: Her voice was gone, her body was gone, she was trapped, and sitting on a plush cushion, in a room in Prince’s house, and no one knew where she was. No one was coming to help her, the surgery had changed her beyond recognition and she was no longer herself.
It happened, suddenly, but Ali had been watching for it, one moment her eyes were shooting daggers at him, full of defiance and malice, and the next they took on a dreamy, introspective quality, he slowed the percussive beating on her tits he was doing and motioned for the lighting to dim and for her ‘dance’ to end. He waited a moment longer, leaned in a bit in anticipation, and when she burst into tears and despaired, anguished and horrified, beaten and broken he leaned in and kissed her.
He felt her sobs under his mouth as he cradled her head and invaded her mouth with his tongue. Her cries were slightly muffled, but he drank them in, feeling the shakes of her head and the vibrations caused by her caterwauling. He kissed her with passion, soaking in her defeat and capitulation until she slowly stopped, her cries getting softer, her shaking slower. Soon she was still and he was still kissing her, cradling her. After a moment or two she closed her eyes, the tears drying up, and he caressed her, holding her close, comforting her.
“There there dolly, it will be alright, it will be alright.” He held her and rocked her head in his arms, lulling her to calm and quiet, letting her feel his warmth and strength. He would return in a few hours to mock her and jeer at her again, until she burst into tears and he would lean in to comfort. He was patient, waiting for her to reach out to him, to accept him as her patron. It happened on the fourth go-round, she was feeling beyond herself, as though she had let go of who she was, time had ceased to have meaning, she was just a doll now, she was still a person, but she didn’t know who she was now, Gail had evaporated over the course of the day. She was being cradled by him, and she was empty inside, but she felt his warmth fill her, despite his previous cruelty he was all she had now and she leaned into him.
He felt her reciprocation and smiled. He patted her on the head, stroking her hair and cooed to her. She smiled. “There there dolly, everything will be alright.”
She smiled again, feeling his warmth on her face. He reached down and stroked her tits, feeling their ripe fullness, their skin stretched taut over the overfilled implants. “There there dolly, everything will be alright.”
He took out a pacifier, molded after his cock and put it up to her lips, she was so eager for contact at this point that she welcomed the intruder into her mouth and sucked on it gladly. Her mouth occupied, Ali gazed into her eyes and stroked her hair, comforting her some more. He asked her if she was sleepy, and she nodded yes. He asked her if she was hungry, and she nodded yes. He took a heavy veil, made from black latex, and placed if over her head, blinding her and covering her face fully. She could not make any sounds and could not see, so she shook her head in protest.
Ali motioned for the lighting to come back up, so that the room was bright again. He waited a few moments, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness under the heavy veil, before raising it up a bit and letting her get the shock of the bright light. She immediately shook her head to the side, yanking the veil from his grip and retreating once again into the darkness. Ali smiled to himself.
He guided the cushion over to the side of the room, opening a door with a star on it, marked with Gail’s name. Once open the door revealed a small closet of a room, barely big enough to accommodate its new occupant. Shoving the gagged and veiled doll into the alcove Ali went about hooking up her tubing. He removed the stopper from his end of the penis-gag, so that it was now hollow and could accommodate girth. He saved that pleasure for later though, needing to get her ready for the night. He stuck a feeding hose into the gag, making sure it locked into place, and then leaned her head back into the cushion, running a strap around her neck to hold her there. She struggled slightly but once she started sucking the warm paste through the tube she calmed down, it had a mild sedative in it.
Next he hooked up her nether plumbing so that it would drain properly and then closed and locked the door.
He could come back and check on his star whenever he wanted to. She was now perfectly homeostatic; the cushion functioning to massage her muscles while she remained stationary, so that she did not waste away. He could come back in 3 minutes or 3 months and there would be no change. The mild sedative would serve to keep her from remaining lucid for too long and would leave her mind dreamy while she her body was safe and secure. At the moment Ali was feeling beneficent and so adjusted her audio to play her gentle and pleasant sounds, ones that would reassure and comfort her. If she ever misbehaved he could change her audio to predatory and unsettling sounds as a punishment.
He stood over her, basking in his mastery over her, breathing in and breathing out, letting the sight of her helpless form comfort him until he was no longer troubled by the thought of Gail the ball-crusher. He watched her, her facial features obliterated by the veil, and he thought of her powerlessness, her inability to move or to speak, her dependence on him for life, and he smiled. He walked over to her and patted her on the head, she was now his toy, and he would come back to play with her later.
--
He sighed, relieved that everything had gone smoothly thus far, and settled down to a sumptuous supper before returning to check on Gail again. He opened the closet door a bit, peeking in and half-expecting her to jump out and drop-kick him. Realizing his fear he grew angry, determined that he do something to end it immediately, there was no reason to be afraid of this woman.
He pushed the door violently open the rest of the way and saw her, the perfect specimen of his own devices, exactly where he had left her, drinking out of her phallus and peeing into the tube. He immediately softened, chiding himself for getting upset over such a thing. Where had he even gotten the idea that she might still be a threat. She was just a toy, here, in the closet, she could not do anything to him. He walked up next to her and took his pants off, massaging his manhood into full hardness. He grasped her veiled face in his clutch, noting that she was slowly stirring out of her light slumber, and, holding her steady, he slapped the side of her head with his erect cock.
She made an indistinct but sharp sound in response and he slapped her again. She made a lower sound this time, which he correctly interpreted as withdrawal. She was not challenging him, she was accepting his punishment. He turned her face the other way and began to beat her rapidly, slapping his cock into her face and then readying it for another whap. After a few moments of this he paused to gauge her reaction. He studied her veil, listening, and he could hear quiet sobbing, it was somewhat muffled so he lifted the veil. Underneath he saw that she still had the gag in her mouth so he took the feeder tube out, leaving it hollow, and unmuffled.
She had been sobbing but now he could hear her swallowing and apparently trying to form some words. “Rut wid I thoo wong ?” she was saying, over and over in a small voice.
“There there,” he replied, soothing her. “Its ok, I just wanted to make sure you were awake.” She stopped whimpering and apparently accepted this explanation because she did not say anything. He could tell she was still somewhat tense though. He imagined that if she and he were in a room with a pistol and she was capable of movement they would both be jumping for it right about now.
He reached for it first, gripping the sides of her head and then trying to force his cock down into her mouth. Her eyes widened and then her head shook. It was one thing for him to have gotten the gag in before, since it wasn’t pointed out to her what it was cast from, nor was she feeling as needy now as she was then. She intended to not have it in her mouth, and Ali was more than happy to fight with her over it.
In fact, he didn’t rush it, even though he wanted to. He moved slowly, letting her maneuver away, before darting before her again. He pressed with his hands to keep her head still and she fought back with her neck muscles, trying to escape the foreign intrusion.
He guessed that she had never had a man in her mouth before. And that gave him an idea, maybe she had never had a man anywhere before. “Ok, you don’t want it? That’s ok.” He stopped and she relaxed. “But tell me, have you ever been with a man?” She shook her head no. “Are you sure, not at all?” She again shook her head no.
“No you’re not sure or no you haven’t ever been with a man?”
“O, I ahnt der en ert a ran.”
“Ok just one more thing, I need you to tell the policemen outside that we are friends who are just having fun ok?” Ali smiled inwardly when he said this because of course the next thing she was going to do was scream, and that was exactly what he was planning on.
“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh rmmmmppphhhhtttmmmmppppthhhh.”
“No, don’t quit screaming, that feels nice, oh yeah, some women, you know, they don’t understand that blowing and sucking are an important part of it, you can’t just be dead weight, you’ve got to treat it like a lover, you know?”
She had stopped screaming past his cock and swallowed, trying to form some argument, his grip on the sides of her head was adamant now, this was no game, she was not getting away. As she swallowed he pushed farther into her mouth, bumping into the back of her throat, an area that no man had ever been before, no cock had ever touched, and he luxuriated in the knowledge that ‘he was her first.’
He could hear her gagging and glucking underneath him as he sped up, he pressed the back of her head into his crotch and bucked forward and backward, engaged in intercourse with her face. He thought of the delights he had yet to explore, and about the immense satisfaction he would get being the first man to grace the back of her throat with his gifts. He grunted, oh god she was so tight, she had such nice bone structure but an angular and rather small face.
He pictured her lips kissing another woman’s, and now he saw her mouth gulping his cock, her lips kissing his cock, and he thought of his cock inside of the other woman’s mouth, so that he was now fucking the face of Gail and her lesbian friend, and, mmmmmm, he bucked into her face, he could hear her struggling now for breath, she too was bucking violently, but she was well bound and not going anywhere, besides, he had all of the leverage.
Seconds later his salty discharge shot past her tonsils. He groaned, and relaxed, which allowed her a tiny bit of air while she gulped down his emissions. She would have liked to have vomited it back up but air was such a precious commodity at the moment that she was not going to argue.
He relaxed into her, his body pushing back down onto her, her breath becoming labored again, before he realized what he was doing and he came to his senses. He blinked and then stared down at her, his needs fulfilled he was all business again. While ordinarily he would just as soon leave her without saying anything he felt like saying something since this was her first time with a man.
“Well Gail, I’m glad we were finally able to be formally introduced.”
He walked out of the small closet, and turned to watch his perfectly tamed Gail before closing and locking the door.
Next he would visit
Chapter 3, In for a song
Ali pulled back the heavy black veil and smiled at his wondrous treasure. He checked her water to make sure she had enough, and checked her seed level. He reached down to remove the wide and shallow collection pan that ran the length and width of the underside of her cage. He emptied it and then re-papered it before putting it back.
“Sing for me my Nightingale.”
“Lovely,” Ali said.
He watched her for a few moments, admiring the graceful curve
of her neck, and the way her aquiline nose peaked at the tip. He flashed her a smile
as she continued to sing for him, and even though it had a nervous tenor to it
he was sure that it was only stage fright.
He let the cover of the veil fall back down, so that the cage returned
to its stance of solitude. It would not
do to visit her too often as he did not want to upset her. He thought back to the unsettling images in
his mind from the night Gail and
He smiled, happy and content knowing that she would be here, and his, safe, forever, and began the long climb back down the ladder. He would visit again, perhaps when she was sleeping, to change her tray and give her food and water, but he did not want to disturb her peaceful beauty. Her radiance was best left untouched and virginal. The veil that covered her protected her from the intrusion of outside eyes.
On the ground again he looked up to the top of the perch,
where
As he relaxed into satisfied slumber he heard the anguishes screams of despair of the horribly modified woman who was once again visiting the pain and terror at having just that morning woken up in a cage with malformed legs hooked into mechanical grips at the end, perfectly bent to resemble an avian’s, and arms amputated and replaced with heavy back weight in the form of decorative wings; but the modulation of her voice, her radiant, joyous voice, into this horrible mockery of speech was what pained her the most.
All of that pain was transmuted by her vocal implant though, so that as Ali listened to her sing he heard only pleasant and blissful chirps, “Chirp, tweetle-tweetle tweet tweet! Chirp, chirp chirp-chirp chirp. Tweet, tweet twee-eet tweet, chirp chirp, chirp chirp” confirming that he had been right all along, that Aurora had only needed a man to train her to set her free.
He continued to enjoy her melodious voice as he drifted off
to a pleasant sleep, quite unaware that
Ali woke up, the blissful sounds of sweet song had slowly petered off and Alex had promised him that he would be greeted by warm sounds from his pet for as long as he desired. He consulted the manual that Alex had given him and then smiled at the simple remedy.
He pressed a button and a mechanism pulled the veil off of the cage. After a few moments a slew of rapid song emerged from the transmitter and he happily rolled over and went back to sleep.
She tried, but any long thoughts became interrupted by the irritation she felt at the sound of her own squawking (While its sound might be melodious to someone else, to her, trapped and mocked as she was by it, it had quickly had become unbearable.)
The rest of the day was spent in fits of sleep interrupted by flashes of light and squawks, chirps, warbles, short thoughts, periods where she tried to banish her mind of thought, and then failure or success followed by startling awake again.
She looked forward to when Ali came to visit her, as it gave her the only real interaction with anything other than her own unbearable self trapped in the darkness under the veil, he hardly ever talked to her as a person, preferring instead to talk to her about herself as though she were incapable of human thought, as though she were a bird.
There was not a whole lot she could do about it though and she dreaded the time when he had finished filling her food and water and changed her cage, it meant that she would be alone again.
When he had first lingered for a few moments it had made her very happy to not see him leave right away. She could tell he was deliberating some internal argument, but it seemed after a few moments he reached a decision and he reached towards her through the cage. ‘This is it!’ she thought, and it came out “Chirp! Chirp-chirp tweet!” ‘He’s going to let me go!’ “Tweet tweet tweete-eet!”
Ali uncurled his outstretched hand to reveal some sweetcorn, the perfect treat for his darling
Nightingale.
--
Two weeks later
The songs become more cheerful and radiant the longer they are sung, however, and are just as Ali likes them, so he often puts her into service. When the veil goes back on, however, she has been getting more and more nervous, never knowing when her master will next want a performance.
--
Two months later
--
Six months into her training
She cringes when it stops, afraid that it will go back up, the intensity of the light changing with its height, and her state of nervousness changing the timbre of her voice. A moment later the rest button drops the veil completely and she falls immediately into a tranced-sleep, thinking not at all, but with her eyes half-way open, as though expecting a change. For today’s performance he is conducting a piece he has written himself, and so the veil jumps back up a quarter tempo later to the E position, her voice warbling immediately at the proper pitch.
---
by Alex Streuth
Literary notes: This tale is a gift for Dave Potter, a kindred spirit
who has quite a gift with words. There
are those, perhaps, who, when they write, decide that at the end of a story
they should redeem their protagonist, and provide a happy ending. Mr. Potter is one of those who would agree
with me when I say that this is quite unsatisfying to the reader, and, while
perhaps serving to mitigate a guilty feeling the author might unduly thrust
upon themselves, it does very little to perpetuate the robust fantasy that the
reader has invested their time and energy in.
A perfectly satisfying ending, therefore, can be found in Potter’s ‘Gabrielle
van Hessel.’
Far from closing the story in a weak ‘and she escaped and ran away and
lived happily ever after’ state, this story’s ending actually inspired another
writer to continue where it had ended.
-AS
--
Lastly, the author disclaims
that outside of the realm of fantasy none of these types of
behaviors and/or ideas are healthy much less conscionable. It is my intention to provide a well-written
adult story that allows the reader to indulge in their darker appetites. Feedback is welcomed, and you may write me at
Streuthanasia@gmail.com
--
Reader suggestions are always
welcomed and I am sure if you have a specific situation, person, item of
clothing, object, body part or interaction etc. that you wish inserted into the
busy schedules of the exacting Dr. Spencer and Mr. Streuth
please do not hesitate to contact me regarding it. I will see it I can fit your order into their
schedule, or bring it up at the next Cherish Board meeting. –AS
Please check out Alex Streuth's Stories
(www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Alex_Streuth/www/)
for a comprehensive study.