Borderland

Chapter 2: Research

Maybe I dozed off for a few minutes, Maybe I just lost myself in a reverie. My next recollection, Irina was standing beside me. She was dressed in her white robe. She leaned forward above me, and it gaped a little at the chest – her breasts were swinging free beneath the satin. Her nipples were small, dark and hard. I tried to raise a hand and touch her – I could not. I tried to speak – I could not. I lay on that divan, naked, and powerless as a rag doll. She took one of my own nipples between finger and thumb, and she pinched it. Hard. I gave a reflexive twitch, I tried to make a sound of discomfort. Nothing. She smiled down at me.

"Now, my dear Andy. All is ready – almost. You will come tonight, for me. Come like never before, my dear. Your balls are ripe. Your cock will soon be hard as steel. It will be bigger, harder than you ever known before. You will come for me, much. Let us begin."

She flicked her robe open, below the waist. She lifted my hand, and touched it to her pussy. It was smooth, warm and damp. I could smell her musk. My cock began to swell and rise from my belly.

"Excellent, dear. You can not move. You can not cry out. Yet your sexual response is strong. It's well. You will experience wonderful pleasure tonight, I wish you to enjoy. But you may feel a little discomfort initially. Only trust me, my dear. Give yourself willingly into my hands and trust me..."

She placed my hand back on my chest, drew her robe tighter around herself and bent down to the side of the divan.

Irina moved quickly around that innocent-looking piece of furniture. She operated several cams, levers and motors concealed in its undercarriage. In a matter of minutes, it was converted. The side valances popped out and up, forming elevated stirrups. She lifted my feet and calves onto these, raising and separating my legs. The lower portion of the divan folded downwards. My shoulders and head were raised to perhaps forty degrees from horizontal, giving me a clear view of her as she stood between my spread legs. My semi-hard cock lay against my lower belly. My full, aching balls hung loose and heavy. She knelt: she touched the skin between scrotum and asshole. She tugged at the hair remaining there. She stood, and turned to the cabinets at the wall. She opened the nearest cabinet. The door opened downwards, forming a work-surface, and she drew forward several shallow plastic trays. She drew forward several glass bottles, and a can of shaving foam. I was unable to move more than my eyes, and her body obscured my view. it was hard to tell exactly what she was doing, but it was very easy to make out the thrust of her erect nipples beneath the white satin. The musky scent of her sex juices was strong. She was very turned on by her work. Lifting something from one of the trays, and the can of foam, she knelt between my legs. She applied foam to my balls, and my splayed ass. She looked up at my face, and smiled. "A little too hairy there, my dear. It is small problem only." I watched as she brought both hands up to my view, and opened a straight-bladed razor.

The cold blade caused the skin of my balls to twitch and contract as it touched them. She stretched it tight with her left hand, while her right hand plied the razor across them. She took my cock between finger and thumb, and deftly shaved any remaining stubble from its shaft. "Do not fear, dear Andy. I will not damage this! I did not yet finish with it!"

She applied the blade below my balls, and shaved the area around my asshole. Then she ran her fingers over it again. "That is nice. It's better like this". With a damp cloth she wiped away any residual foam, and returned the razor to the cabinet. She opened a bottle, and tipped some of its contents onto another cloth. With it she wiped the whole area in which she was interested: my asshole, my balls, my cock. It stung. Especially it stung when she pulled my foreskin right back to its limit, and wiped the sensitive membranes so exposed. It stung even more, when she drew an amount of the liquid into a small syringe and squirted it slowly into the tube of my cock. A burning sensation filled it, and my erection grew in response to the pain.

"Do not worry, my dear. It is mild discomfort only. Alcohol, for hygiene. You should enjoy this sensation. Soon, maybe a little more intense. It can hurt. But my dear, what is a little pain in return for great pleasure? What you think?"

Why she asked the question, I don't know. I had no capacity to reply. Even if could have spoken, I was in no position to disagree or resist. She could do with me exactly what she wanted, and she knew it. She turned back to the cabinet, and took from it a metal speculum. She smeared it with lubricant, holding it so that I could watch her actions. Her hand moved as though masturbating the instrument, and my erection twitched into the air. She bent, and inserted first one, then two lubed fingers into my ass. My hole first tensed on her fingers, then relaxed as she pushed them deeper. She pulled them out, and quickly pressed the closed blades of the speculum into their place. She activated the lever on the device, and I felt my asshole forced open. At first it was sexually exciting and my cock jerked vertical between my legs, then the extent of stretching became painful. If anything, the pain heightened my excitement.

"My dear, it appears you enjoy this. Good. It is only beginning. I open your asshole like this, to make my work easier. It will make your experience more productive. Now I wish take your metrics. It will hurt only little for you."

She took a set of calipers from the cabinet. She measured my asshole, dilated as it now was. I felt the blades of the caliper touch the membrane inside my anus, between those of the open speculum. She read the scale carefully, and made a note on a pad lying on the worksurface.

She measured each of my balls: the long dimension of the oval, and the narrower dimension. In this task, she formed her finger and thumb into a circle between the ball and my body, pulling the skin tight over the organ. She palpated each ball carefully, probing at them with her fingers whilst watching my eyes for any indication of pain. She found the hard and soft parts of both my balls, manipulating and squeezing until she saw reaction in my eyes. I looked down between my legs at her face. My cock stood between us, waving above her unseen hands. The foreskin was pulled fully back below the engorged, purple glans, and pre-cum glistened at the oval opening.

After some minutes of work on my balls, she again turned to make notes. When she turned back to her scene of operations, she held in her hand two steel rods.

Each measured maybe 35 centimetres in length, 8 millimetres in diameter, and they both were slightly curved. Both had knurled machining at one end. One was smooth and plain, terminating in a blunt round end. The other carried engraved markings along its length and at its end was a bulb similar in size and shape to a black olive. Around the circumference of the bulb were engraved two deep rings.

"My dear, these are urethral sounds. This perhaps most uncomfortable for you. If you relax, it will be easier – and after initial shock, it will be pleasurable. I begin with the slim sound, it will open the way. Then we move to the graduated sound. With it I gauge more metrics, and determine with precision how to give you most satisfactory orgasm. It will be best outcome possible, I assure you."

Taking my cock in her free hand, she gave me a clear view of its head and opening. Pre-cum shone there.

"Observe, already it is slightly dilated and lubricated. You need not fear." with that, she smeared lube along the length of the slim steel rod. Taking my cock in one hand, she manoeuvered the blunt tip into the hole, and pushed it firmly in.

The first three or four centimetres slid inside my shaft easily, then she felt resistance – I felt pain. She twisted the metal, pushing, and it passed through the constriction. Now she worked it steadily down the length of my cock, alternately pushing, twisting and withdrawing it slightly. I felt it stretching the urethra as it went, following the natural bend of the shaft, and she worked it inexorably deeper into me. It was as she had told me: the initial pain became more pleasurable. She followed the progress of the steel rod with her fingers, as it passed down the tube: she pressed her finger between my balls, to feel it passing them: she worked it slightly deeper, then removed her hands. Around ten centimetres of steel protruded from my waving, erect cock. She straightened up, and smiled at me.

"There. Not so bad, eh? I like this phase of the task. See, how your cock accepts the steel! See, how he hardens to swallow it! Now we ensure all is smooth passage..."

She again took the sound in one hand, my cock in the other, and smoothly worked the metal up and down inside me. With each downward thrust, she gave a slight twist. I felt the tightening of my balls, in response to the unfamiliar stimulus: I wondered what would happen, if I were to come at this moment.

Abruptly, in one fluid movement, she drew the entire metal rod out of my cock. Equally quickly, she lubed the bulbous end of the other sound: she pinched the head of my cock between finger and thumb, forming the hole into an 'o' shape: she placed the tip of the sound into the hole, gripped my cock firmly and pushed the thing deep down into the shaft.

It hurt. It hurt a lot. The bulb was forced beyond the natural constriction of the urethra, and stretched the tube wide as it passed. She watched my eyes as she pushed. I am sure she could read only pain and fear in them. She did not pause, did not hesitate. She looked back at my genitals, and watched the bulge of that bulb as it reached and passed below my balls. She slipped the fingers of her left hand into my gaping asshole, and pressed them against the sides. She was feeling for the bulb, as it reached my prostate. The engraved ridges would let her judge its precise position. It reached its target, and I felt a further spasm of pain as the bulb pressed on the gland. She released her grip on the sound. Her right hand caressed first my cock, then my belly. Her fingers inside my ass lay against the bulge created by the sound.

"My brave, dear Andy. Relax now. Soon the pain fades, but the pleasure persists."

Once more taking up the calipers, she measured the diameter of my cock at its head, and at the midpoint and base of its shaft. In each position she took one measurement, then turned the caliper 90 degrees and repeated the measurement. Good scientific method, I thought absently. It took my mind off the ache caused by the thick sounding-rod. Then she read off the scale on the sound, and noted down the results.

She stepped back, regarding me lying there motionless, exposed and vulnerable. The protruding steel sound, the stretched head of my cock, my ass gaped open by the speculum. She stepped away, took a cigarette from the pack on the coffee-table, and lit it. She sat down on the edge of the bed, smoking and watching me. Her left hand, so recently inside my ass, flicked the robe aside from her crotch. She parted her legs slightly and gently rubbed her pussy while she smoked. My eyes turned to the side, I watched her.

She stubbed her cigarette, stood up and reached out her hand. Her fingers, moist and scented with her juice, stroked my lips. She went to the bathroom and carefully washed her hands. My balls were aching, and my cock throbbing around its steel core – I felt a desperate need for release.

When she returned to my side, Irina was smiling. "Now, my dear, you will feel the benefit of these preparations. Now, you will come. We will drain those big full balls, let your dick relax. I assure you, it will be magnificent for you. And I will like to see all. I love the spectacular."

She lifted a bottle from the cabinet, and with it two syringes. One large, the other smaller. She fitted a long hypodermic needle onto the smaller one: to the other she attached a shorter, thicker needle. She filled each syringe from the bottle. Replacing the bottle in the cabinet, she took out a graduated plastic beaker. This she placed on my belly. She lifted the small syringe, and knelt between my legs. Her fingers again sought the tell-tale ridged bulb of the sound. Having found it, she kept her fingers in place and reached up for my cock with the other hand. She fumbled up its length, grasped the sounding-rod and pulled it out of the urethra. Dropping it at my side, she took the syringe and aimed the long needle inside my spread asshole. She accurately pushed it through the wall of my hole, the needle pierced the prostate, and she depressed the plunger.

I felt first a stinging, then a burning sensation somewhere beneath my balls. My cock began to jerk in the air between my legs. She withdrew and dropped the syringe, took up the second, and felt my left ball with her fingers. Finding the spot she sought, she plunged the broad needle into the core of the testicle. She injected some liquid. I felt an agonising spasm of pain. It felt as though the ball had been transformed from flesh to burning coal. She rapidly withdrew the needle, and repeated the injection into my right ball. Finally, and a little more slowly as though she waited for the fire to reach its height, she took my cock in hand and injected the remaining liquid into the muscle at its base.

The effect was almost immediate. The burning sensation increased rapidly. My cock swelled to a size I did not recognise. It jerked and throbbed as she held it , aimed into the beaker, and the fire inside me grew. Her hand moved. One – two – three firm tugs at my massive, turgid cock, and a big gobbet of semen, then a second, flew into the beaker. But it was not over. The fire intensified, and a steady stream of thin, cloudy semen sprang from the purple glans into the beaker. It flowed, propelled by rhythmical contractions of both cock and balls, for what felt like an age. Irina, having watched the initial exudation begin, fixed her eyes on mine and smiled broadly.

"Beautiful, my dear. What a beautiful result. So productive. Is it not amazing, how you feel?"

She was right. The burning pain in my balls and my cock had not abated at all, but the gush of semen seemed to compensate. The pain became welcome, as this newly discovered continuity of orgasm suffused my senses. I lay there, powerless, my cock in the hand of this strange woman. Half sadist, half scientist, all mistress of my body and its secrets. The thin liquid continued to run into the beaker, and I realised that this was a level of pleasure previously unknown to me.

At last the flow slowed, and stuttered to a halt. Irina gently milked the last few drops from my cock, then released her grip. She lifted the beaker and read off the volume of its contents, recording the information on her notepad. Pausing only to release the lever of the speculum and withdraw it from my ass, she opened a second cabinet. Inside it was a binocular microscope. She smeared a drop of my juice onto a slide, slipped it onto the platform and switched on the instrument's illumination. For a while she studied the sample, then straightened up from the eyepieces and made another note in her book. She turned to look at me, and she smiled. There was a thoughtful look on her face. She pressed a button inside the cabinet.

Within minutes, I heard the door open. Footsteps, as somebody entered the room. Two new figures came into my field of view, framed between my spread legs. It was the sour-faced manageress, and the silent waitress. They looked at me curiously as I lay there. I imagined the view they had – my ass still gaping a little from the action of the speculum, my balls dangling loosely, my cock still lazily erect as the injected chemical slowly dispersed. Incongruously, the girl carried a tray. On it, a bottle of champagne and three glasses. She turned to the coffee table and set down the tray. She busied herself in serving the wine. It foamed from the bottle. I thought of the events of the previous two hours or so.

The manageress joined Irina at the microscope. She looked into it. She picked up Irina's notepad, and perused its contents. She looked across at me, interestedly. Turning to Irina, she spoke rapidly in that same unintelligible dialect. Both of them joined the girl at the coffee table. All three lifted a glass, raised them in salutation, and drank. They began to converse, in a low, matter-of-fact tone. The younger woman remained silent, she drifted across toward me. With an air of idle curiosity, she ran her fingers over my balls and cock. Unlike Irina, she had long fingernails, and she dragged them across my scrotum.

The older women sank into the chairs, still talking fast and low. Irina clicked the remote-control of the TV. The screen on the wall lit up, and began to show a video of all that had happened in the room during the previous hours. High definition. As though filmed over Irina's shoulder. Hidden cameras, I supposed. I did not want to watch. I turned my eyes toward the quiet girl, who was now reclining on the bed.

She had the same coloration as Irina. Sallow honey skin, deep brown eyes, hair black as a raven's wing. A pretty face framed in short, wavy hair, and a body more curvy then Irina's. Her eyes were fixed on the big TV screen – she was watching a close-up shot of that bulbous sound being forced inside my cock. Her skirt was hitched up to her waist, her hand was inside her white panties. She was gently masturbating.

I looked away. I could find no energy for arousal, despite the erotic situation. Exhaustion swept over me - I closed my eyes and drifted into sleep.