Dexter Chronicles

Sue Dexter—Chapter Two

Two days after watching Clarissa sexually assault Roger, Sue still breathed heavily at the thought. That Monday afternoon, she was sitting down to lunch with her close friends Janet Cutler, DDS and Ruth Miller, MD. "Yes, Sue," Dr. Miller laughed, "Of course we heard about what happened at the club. Clarissa is so, ah, … straightforward, shall we say. Is Roger still alive?"

"It's amazing, but he still works there; partially the addiction, I think," Sue said. "But he's staying as far away from her as he can. But that won't last, of course. When Clarissa pursues a male, she gets him."

"Forget about Roger," Ruth said leaning forward in a conspiratorial manner, "what are your plans for your dear, little Robert. I think he's old enough to be taken. And if you don't declare yourself a princkmistress by next week, his birthday, he's up for grabs. I need to warn you, my little daughter Helen has her eye on him right now."

"Tell your little rattlesnake to back off, Ruth. I already have an appointment at the FemTech Clinic this Friday," Sue said with a mischievous smile. "I'm afraid the easy times for Robert are "cumming" to an end, his."

***

That evening, Sue stood in her bedroom looking at the locking throat and arm bands she had Kelly Ingersol install beneath the leading edge of her dressing table; a shiver went through her as she thought of Robert's arms immobilized and his face fixed at thigh level. She gasped, calmed herself and then hummed as she unbuttoned and unsnapped and let her cloths fall away from her magnificent body. She glanced down at her full round breasts, delicate but strong muscular frame, firm flat stomach and lusciously bare vagina. Soon her clitoris would have a large protector, … and perhaps a bit vicious. She began to rub herself below where her princk would be and softly purred.

Ah, the low beep of her laptop computer began singing to her. Yes, it was the motion detector in Robert's bedroom. She typed in the code to Robert's room. There he was.

Robert glanced around his room, kicked off his shoes and began fumbling around in his wastebasket. Oh, he had a little prize hidden there … no, two little, dainty prizes. One was one of his mother's jet-black lacy stockings; the other was a matching sheer panty. Even without using the zoom, she could see that his hands were shaking. He began to take off the rest of his clothes. This was his mother's yoga time in her spacious master bedroom; she wouldn't be bothering him for at least one hour, maybe more. He had seen her coming out of their in-house pool so many times, and watched behind half opened doors as she showered and soap up her body to remove the slight traces of the pool's chlorine. Twice she had asked him to help her attach her stockings to her garter straps while she combed her hair or did her nails. He was completely in love with her, and she knew it, cultivated it and counted on it. None of his friends had a mother so young, and rich and beautiful, and they teased him. But Robert didn't mind; he was proud of her, even though a bit scared of his feelings.

He sat on the bed leaned back against his pillow and began to rub the stocking over his naked body, his chest, and face, and small, little penis. As she zoomed in, she could see and hear him begin to swoon, but she knew he was still not too close to cumming; she had watched him many times before. As she began to put on her bathrobe, she could see him enter phase two of his ritual. He wrapped the stocking tightly around his prick and balls, and then placed her panties under his nose, took a deep, deep breath and then put them in his mouth and began to suck on them noisily. "Pretty soon he'll have something else in this mouth to suck," she said under her breath.

She shut down her computer and silently walked the short distance to Robert's room. Listening at the closed door, and timing her entrance. She quietly placed her hand on the door knob, silently turned it and said, while she was opening the door and stepping in to his sordid little den, "Robert, guess whose coming to dinner tomorrow, Dr. Miller and her daughter Ru…. WHAT ARE YOU DOING??!!" And then more slowly, "Robert, … you … little … pig."

She strode toward him towering in mock surprise and anger. He tried to roll over, but she grabbed his arm and threw him back on his back. "What is this?" She pointed and then grabbed for her stocking, knowing it was wrapped about his genitals. His hands darted down to stop her, and she slapped him hard on the face. "Don't you ever attempt to interfere with me, or strike me, or raise your hands to defend yourself. Do you understand?" Her bathrobe was almost open at the top and she was fiercely staring at him — an image of female ruthless beauty and rage. He burst into tears. "I'm sthorry, I'm sthorry," he mumbled, the panties still hidden in his mouth.

"You're sorry, all right, a sorry little shit of a boy, that's what you are." She reached down, grabbed the stocking and yanked it. "Arrhh! Ohhh!" he opened his mouth and screamed in pain and fear as the stocking tightened around his balls. "Oh, what do we have here," she said reaching towards his gasping mouth. She hooked her sopping wet panties with a long sharp fingernail and slowly lifted them from his mouth, holding it above her head like a piece of medical evidence. He gulped in shame.

***

A very different scene was emerging at Ruth Miller's home. Five days earlier, Gene Macon was confronted by Bay City Officer Carol Nelson while he was in the act of robbing the Rod and Gum Boutique Shop, a high end fashion shop for "Women with that Something Extra." Using a high voltage StunGun she dropped him to his knees and did not turn off the power until he was near death. It was a capital office to steal from a princkmistress owned business, and Mr. Macon had made a serious mistake, perhaps fatal mistake. He was immediately taken to Ruth's medical offices where he was pronounced "dead on arrival." Actually, he wasn't dead and this was not the first male brought by Officer Nelson to Ruth for a little extra cash.

"What do you do with all these guys?" Carol asked. "I revive them, I give their lives new meaning, I reeducate them, I liberate them from their common, boring everyday experience of life, and for a short period of time my daughter and I become the very center of their universe while we probe deeply into them for our own… uhm, … edification, enlightenment and ecstatic self-improvement."

Officer Nelson just shrugged. "Well, whatever you do, it's okay with me. I'll always have more for you whenever you want. See you later, Doc."

Three hours later, Gene Macon sat, well, actually lay, in a semi-conscious heap naked in Dr. Miller's clinic's subbasement, his mouth dripping blood on the cold tile floor. Ruth and her daughter Helen sat comfortably in chairs listening to the man moaning, and grimacing in discomfort and pain. "Thanks for letting me pull some of his teeth, Mom. They were really in there good. I didn't think it would be so hard to do. Can I do the next ones myself, but just strap them in and leave them un-drugged? Huh?"

"Well, we'll see honey; maybe."

"Okay Mom, that's cool."

A thin two foot steel chain ran from a tight titanium band around the base of Mr. Macon's testicles to a ring embedded in the floor, A second heavier chain ran from a thick steel collar around his neck to a winch hidden above the twelve foot ceilings. He began to moan more loudly. Sue got up and walks over to a wall and turned a knob, which caused a focused overhead nozzle to spray cold water on their guest. Startled by the splash of water he started to come to. He glanced around and saw his hosts. Ruth Miller stands about 5' 10" in her bare feet, with long hair, full breasts, sinuous legs, and just a touch of cruelty barely hidden in her eyes.

Her daughter Helen didn't seem like she could possibly be related to her. She was small, very, very petite, a shade under 4'9", but perfectly built, with short-cropped hair. Helen was remarkably strong for her size and very, very skilled are extracting pain.

"Wh'air ahm I." The pain in his mouth was almost over whelming. "Wah happin to ma mouseth?" He struggled to speak.

"Mr. Macon," Dr. Miller spoke, "You were a very bad boy. You broke several serious laws, were caught in the act and stunned to death. I am recycling you, like a plastic, container, and now we are going to refill you with a special form of life. You're going to love it."

Macon looked confused and scared. "Have you ever been with a princkster?" Helen asked. Macon spun around toward her voice. She was so innocent, so small and young looking. "You know, Gene, a princkmistress." Gene stammered, "Ah, no, no." "That's so good," purred Helen, "That's how we like them, nice and tight, tight."

Helen began to get undressed. She lifted off her T-shirt which uncovered a dramatically tight abdomen with breasts coming out of the sides of a tube top which seemed definitely too small. A man could be dying and in great pain, but the sight of a young woman like Helen would still hold his attention. Gene was mesmerized by her. She lifted off her top and amazing taut breasts sprung out and buoyantly bobbed on her chest. Macon gasped, she was that perfect, and Ruth laughed; she knew what was coming next, and it wasn't him.

Helen reached down and unzipped her short black leather skirt. She was wearing nothing under her skirt, except a delicate princk harness, which strapped her semi-rigid beast to her left thigh. Macon lunged back and away and uttered a horrible scream as the testicle tether stopped him short. He fell over hard, having almost ripped his balls off, and sat there clutching his balls and crying and rocking.

"Let me explain," said Dr. Miller. "Your balls are ours, we own them and they are trapped. One hundred men could not snap that chain attached to your pathetically small balls. The chain attached to the collar around your neck is connected to a winch above the ceiling. If either my little girl or I give an audio command, you slowly go up, then chains become taut, your balls rip off because your neck is more firmly attached to your body than your balls are, and then you hang by your neck, try to hold yourself up, go into shock from your bleeding balls, and suffocate. It's that simple. We lower you down, lift the grate in the corner above the sewer channel, dump your body in, and hose down the room. It's that simple. Do you understand?"

Gene looked at the chains and the large grate in the corner and nodded his head. Helen walked very close to him. It wasn't that her princk was that enormous (it was quite large), but on her it looked like a baseball bat.

"Gene, I'm going to unstrap my princk and find out how flexible your rectal tissues are. Do you under stand." His eyes widened and he nodded again.

"Because I'm such a nice kid, I'm going to give you a chance to lubricate me with your saliva. Do you understand?"

Gene nodded.

"Well what would you like: a dry, hard rape, or a lubricated rape."

Gene had heard about princkmistresses and tried desperately to back away from Helen, but of course the testicle collar limited his options.

"That's okay, Gene, I understand. It's a hard, very hard decision, and you're a little scared and confused, so I'll make it for you."

She stepped directly in front of him and kicked him hard in the balls. His exposed testicles, already straining against the testicle collar, had nowhere to hide, and she did real damage, as she knew she would.

"All we were asking for Gene, was a little cooperation. Oh well, when you make up your mind about the wet or dry issue, just let me know."

But it was hard for Gene to talk at this moment, or answer her; he was in tremendous pain as wave after wave of agony rushed from his groin across his body. As he bent over, she slapped his face hard, once, twice, again, again, again. He went down on his face but she rolled him over onto his back and pulled both of his arms out to each side. Then she got around by his head and placed her left knee, hard, on his right biceps and her right knee, hard, on his left biceps, and dug her sharp, shapely knees down into the painful part of his arms, paralyzing them and taking his arms out of what little fight he had left. Her princk waved menacingly above his face and she grabbed it at its base like she was trying to gain control of a wildly moving, dripping fire hose. She let out a conquering boast and wrenched open his mouth with her left hand and shifted her pelvis back and then aimed and held her princk to his lips.

Her princk was gently pulsing and pumping princk precum into his mouth. He had tried to twist away, but she had grabbed his ears and used them as painful handles to direct his mouth in to position.

"Gene," she shouted, "Consider this as a large airborne flying tanker refueling a small, little single engine airplane. You may get more than you need."

The large, pulsing head of her princk was past his lips and pressed up hard against his tortured gums. His gloriously warm, soft, wet convulsing mouth and tight gullet lay just ahead. He tried to push her back with his tongue. How silly, but to Helen it just felt good.

She gave her sensuous hips a slight forward hunch, and the bulbous head of her meaty princk popped past his bloody gums and into the cave of his mouth; his cheeks bulged like a chipmunk with a mouthful of nuts. She savored that moment. Her princk felt so wonderfully hot, she thought she would explode! She took a few relaxing breaths and then began to let herself slide in slowly, deeply. Her princk was fully engorged and his throat was soooo tight. She moved her right hand and placed it gently around his throat so she could feel herself slid in and out, in and out, in and out…. She would pull herself back and forth, letting herself almost leave his mouth, but then ram her thick club back in. He caught a breath now and then, but he wouldn't have lived long if Ruth hadn't intervened.

"Here, I know what you want to do." She whispered in her ear. Helen looked up and pulled out with a loud vacuum slurp and pop! Macon began violently coughing and vomiting; even without an orgasm, a princkmistress issues huge quantities of princkcum. Ruth lifted her skirt and unleashed her monster princk. Reaching into her coat pocket she pulled out six "donuts" and placed then on her shaft to limit the depth of penetration. She wanted her little girl to have a live subject, at least for a while. Helen moved down behind him and Ruth assumed Helen's place by his head and laid her princk on the side of the gasping man's face.

His eyes see her princk for the first time and panic sweeps through him, but her knees are pressing even more heavily into his arms and he is weak from pain and the effects of the princkcum. Of course, with the chains in place he is going nowhere and no one is coming to his aid, just cumming. Ruth grabs his face and guides her monster princkhead to the threshold of his mouth. "Knock Knock," she says, "open up!" She slaps him hard, very hard and he gasps and she thrusts, and her huge princkhead tunnels in and almost snaps in place in his mouth like it was meant to live there full time. Helen looks at her mother. They nod. Gene is absolutely helpless with Ruth in his face. Helen positions her weapon at the rectal point of entry. Pre cum is gushing out. Mr. Macon is "lucky," this will definitely not be a dry entry.

Helen begins to thrust slowly forward. Gene is tight; his anal muscles clench and try to resist her invasion. Even though she's young, she's too big, though not a big as her mother. Gene begins to go crazy. His ass is on fire, the pain is maddening, and he can't breath. Helen nods to his her mother again, and Ruth pulls herself free, panting heavily. "Wow," she thinks to herself, "that was almost a perfect fit." Now, without a princk in his mouth he can breath and get some strength, but there's no way he can throw Helen off or out. Helen's toes grip the tile floor. Gene has pushed around as far as he can; the testicle chain stops him entirely and Helen knows it, it always happens this way.

She's going deeper, his mouth is wide open, but no sound is coming out. Helen is spreading his rectal tissue and is slowly, inch by massive inch, plunging herself in all the way. She can feel her balls tighten up against his ass and her enlarged clit is rubbing against the back of her balls, she's close, close. Helen craves domination and control of the male, at all times and places, no exceptions, and Ruth knows what will get her daughter off. She smiles at Helen and enters Gene' s mouth again. My god, he left it wide open, like a door to be entered. He looks up at Ruth as she rushes over his threshold, but now it's too late. Even with the donuts in place, Ruth is able to give him nine thick inches. He is skewered. He is beginning to choke. His struggles become violent, but helpless. Helen's eyes roll up in her head, her mother's beginning to cum, too, and princksperm is beginning to gush from Genes' nostrils, lips and anus in large quantities. Helen's beautiful breasts heave with jagged breathing and, thrusting wildly, she cums screaming, "Oh, yes, yes, yes!"

Ruth's thrusts are long and hard, in and out. With each backward pull, Gene unconsciously gasps for breath, but he is also beginning to drown as his lungs begin to fill with foul, thick, viscous princk juice. His life at this point is in Ruth's hands. As Gene begins to gather his last desperate strength for his involuntary, convulsive death throes, Helen impulsively reaches forward to caress her mother's breasts and nipples. "Oh, sweet child, that was so sweet, so sweet." Ruth's final powerful massive thrusts consume her as she lunges her pelvis forward, pushing Helen and the expiring, shuddering Gene backwards as she explodes and massive amount of foul princk juice flood out of Gene's mouth and nose. "Oh, sweet, oh sweet!" moans Ruth, and they collapse, still deeply, deeply imbedded in Gene, into each other's arms.

***

"So what's this?" says Sue to her son. "Would you mind explaining what my panties were doing in your mouth?"

End of Chapter Two — Sue Dexter

ã 2003 MystyMason

Any comments welcomed. Contact Mysty at mystymason172@hotmail.com