Ste Letto
01-22-2003, 12:50 PM
1994 Part two
Maurice was left alone, without any human interaction, for two days. He was fed by having a tray slid through a hatch under his door. Exactly one hour after each meal, he would black out, only to waken to see that his tray and all other traces of his meal had been removed. His already shattered nerves started to shred. He feared he might never see a soul again. He took to lying facing the wall, then lying looking up at the ceiling, then pacing about, then pounding on the walls and finally screaming. Nothing got a response. So he sat, unmoving, staring at the door.
In the observation lounge, Erin Gray smiled smugly to see the once wayward and lusty man so quickly reduced to despondency. Erin was 21, 6ft tall, slender and pretty in an English rose way. She wore her blonde hair in a tidy bob. As part of her working costume she wore a headset, which consisted of an earpiece and a microphone. Her uniform was identical to that of the thousands of other girl's in the observation lounge. She wore a crisp white cotton blouse, buttoned up to the neck, a black tie, a black knee length skirt, opaque black tights and stilleto heeled black leather shoes. On her left breast she wore a badge showing her rank "Junior Officer" and her job "Overseer".
Her chair was the standard design for any admin worker in the Ministry of Liberation. The chair's back was high and well cushioned. The seat had a padded leather ring around the perimeter, with a hole in the centre. Through that hole their protruded the helplessly bound, upturned, immobilised face of an immobilised man who had been declared incurable by the state psychiatric service. The man was in a forced kneeling position within the body of the chair, straps held him firm, his neck having been surgically altered to allow it to bend back to 90 degrees. Two pipes fed into his body, although strictly speaking only one fed in, the other feeding out. He was kept alive by being drip fed a nutrient diet that ran directly into his digestive system. The minimal, odourless waste his body produced ran into a store at the base of the chair that was automatically cleansed at the end of each day. Such men typically had a five year life expectancy. The rigours of being confined in this way caused untold damage, and their was always a danger of suffocation when full bottomed girls were on duty. Even a slender girl, like Erin could easily find she'd covered mouth and nose for a little too long.
Erin lifted her hips momentarily, easing a growing feeling of numbness in her left buttock. The man beneath her gasped in a breath. He could just about get enough air while she sat upon him, but it was always tainted with stale, noxious smells, and it always involved some physical effort. To draw breath without any effort was a real joy. He had a few seconds of easy breathing, just enough time for his sight to return, letting him admire the gorgeous arse that was at once both his jailor and his tormentor, before that well packed posterior descended in its close fitting sheath of nylon and elasticated cotton.
He watched, helpless and terrified as her arse filled his field of vision again. It literally eclipsed the world. Her bottom was all he could see, and then he could see nothing. He was aware of the moments of descent and contact in the minutest detail. He felt the material of her skirt touching and then caressing his cheeks. He felt her warmth through her skirt. He felt her cheeks spreading, gripping his facial cheeks. He felt his nose touch her skirt, before pressing it up. He felt her weight grow and grow until she sat fully on his head again. He tasted her in his mouth, and he smelt her. All the delicious and terrible smells that come form a woman's pussy and ass filled his nostrils, filled his head and invaded his overloaded mind.
Erin swivelled her chair to the left, and crossed her right leg over the left. She waggled her left foot until the shoe came loose at the heel. She smiled, and dipped her foot forward. The shoe dropped to the carpetted floor. Without a word, Erin indicated that her foot wanted attention. Immediately a naked male wearing a penile restraint scampered forward, crouching in the presence of his dominator. She gave the hand gesture which says "Soothe my foot", and returned her attention the the screen in front of her. As she watched, the door opened into Maurice's cell. Erin smiled to see Commander Courtney Collins stroll into Maurice's cell.
The man at Erin's feet opened his scrawny mouth, devoid of teeth, as wide as he could and began to suckle her toes. As he had learnt, after months of training, he began by simply holding the tired toes in his straining mouth, warming them with his lips and breath. After ten minutes of holding them this way he tentatively ran his tongue under the slightly sweaty digits, feeling each one flex in response to the adoration of his tongue tip. Erin looked at her screen, and sighed gently, this shrimper really knew his job. "I might commandeer him for extra duties," she thought to herself. The man ran his tongue over the top of her wiggling toes, working left - right, right - left, over and over. He sucked her foot as deep into his mouth as he could, then reached up to massage the heel. His fingers caressed her hardened heel, the sides beneath her ankles, then the ankle bones themselves. He soothed the tension from her foot with a lovers gentle care. Although he had always hated feet and always would.
Years ago, when he'd thought himself a man, he'd been a breast man, a man who liked to squeeze and paw a woman. He'd always found feet ugly and disgusting, hating the smell, the shape and everything about them. The state had known that, so when he was finally penalised, it was decided it was only fair to make him a shrimper,licking, sucking, tasting and caressing women's feet all day, every day, on command.
Erin leaned closer to her screen to watch what unfolded between Maurice and Commander Courtney.
Maurice was left alone, without any human interaction, for two days. He was fed by having a tray slid through a hatch under his door. Exactly one hour after each meal, he would black out, only to waken to see that his tray and all other traces of his meal had been removed. His already shattered nerves started to shred. He feared he might never see a soul again. He took to lying facing the wall, then lying looking up at the ceiling, then pacing about, then pounding on the walls and finally screaming. Nothing got a response. So he sat, unmoving, staring at the door.
In the observation lounge, Erin Gray smiled smugly to see the once wayward and lusty man so quickly reduced to despondency. Erin was 21, 6ft tall, slender and pretty in an English rose way. She wore her blonde hair in a tidy bob. As part of her working costume she wore a headset, which consisted of an earpiece and a microphone. Her uniform was identical to that of the thousands of other girl's in the observation lounge. She wore a crisp white cotton blouse, buttoned up to the neck, a black tie, a black knee length skirt, opaque black tights and stilleto heeled black leather shoes. On her left breast she wore a badge showing her rank "Junior Officer" and her job "Overseer".
Her chair was the standard design for any admin worker in the Ministry of Liberation. The chair's back was high and well cushioned. The seat had a padded leather ring around the perimeter, with a hole in the centre. Through that hole their protruded the helplessly bound, upturned, immobilised face of an immobilised man who had been declared incurable by the state psychiatric service. The man was in a forced kneeling position within the body of the chair, straps held him firm, his neck having been surgically altered to allow it to bend back to 90 degrees. Two pipes fed into his body, although strictly speaking only one fed in, the other feeding out. He was kept alive by being drip fed a nutrient diet that ran directly into his digestive system. The minimal, odourless waste his body produced ran into a store at the base of the chair that was automatically cleansed at the end of each day. Such men typically had a five year life expectancy. The rigours of being confined in this way caused untold damage, and their was always a danger of suffocation when full bottomed girls were on duty. Even a slender girl, like Erin could easily find she'd covered mouth and nose for a little too long.
Erin lifted her hips momentarily, easing a growing feeling of numbness in her left buttock. The man beneath her gasped in a breath. He could just about get enough air while she sat upon him, but it was always tainted with stale, noxious smells, and it always involved some physical effort. To draw breath without any effort was a real joy. He had a few seconds of easy breathing, just enough time for his sight to return, letting him admire the gorgeous arse that was at once both his jailor and his tormentor, before that well packed posterior descended in its close fitting sheath of nylon and elasticated cotton.
He watched, helpless and terrified as her arse filled his field of vision again. It literally eclipsed the world. Her bottom was all he could see, and then he could see nothing. He was aware of the moments of descent and contact in the minutest detail. He felt the material of her skirt touching and then caressing his cheeks. He felt her warmth through her skirt. He felt her cheeks spreading, gripping his facial cheeks. He felt his nose touch her skirt, before pressing it up. He felt her weight grow and grow until she sat fully on his head again. He tasted her in his mouth, and he smelt her. All the delicious and terrible smells that come form a woman's pussy and ass filled his nostrils, filled his head and invaded his overloaded mind.
Erin swivelled her chair to the left, and crossed her right leg over the left. She waggled her left foot until the shoe came loose at the heel. She smiled, and dipped her foot forward. The shoe dropped to the carpetted floor. Without a word, Erin indicated that her foot wanted attention. Immediately a naked male wearing a penile restraint scampered forward, crouching in the presence of his dominator. She gave the hand gesture which says "Soothe my foot", and returned her attention the the screen in front of her. As she watched, the door opened into Maurice's cell. Erin smiled to see Commander Courtney Collins stroll into Maurice's cell.
The man at Erin's feet opened his scrawny mouth, devoid of teeth, as wide as he could and began to suckle her toes. As he had learnt, after months of training, he began by simply holding the tired toes in his straining mouth, warming them with his lips and breath. After ten minutes of holding them this way he tentatively ran his tongue under the slightly sweaty digits, feeling each one flex in response to the adoration of his tongue tip. Erin looked at her screen, and sighed gently, this shrimper really knew his job. "I might commandeer him for extra duties," she thought to herself. The man ran his tongue over the top of her wiggling toes, working left - right, right - left, over and over. He sucked her foot as deep into his mouth as he could, then reached up to massage the heel. His fingers caressed her hardened heel, the sides beneath her ankles, then the ankle bones themselves. He soothed the tension from her foot with a lovers gentle care. Although he had always hated feet and always would.
Years ago, when he'd thought himself a man, he'd been a breast man, a man who liked to squeeze and paw a woman. He'd always found feet ugly and disgusting, hating the smell, the shape and everything about them. The state had known that, so when he was finally penalised, it was decided it was only fair to make him a shrimper,licking, sucking, tasting and caressing women's feet all day, every day, on command.
Erin leaned closer to her screen to watch what unfolded between Maurice and Commander Courtney.