The Farm

Chapter 02: Conformation

"I see I've done it at last." Double chins jiggled as Mrs. Featherwink chuckled and gave herself a congratulatory slap on the leg.

"I'm prepared to take the next step." Gordy lifted his hand to silence Mrs. F. "One that I will finance."

"Please, let me treat you this time." Her smile seemed genuine, but Gordy knew the bill would reflect this treat. "Give me your requirements. A little list. Something to work from. I'll do the rest."

"Oh, Mrs. Featherwink, you know me so well. Book the observation room. March, Miss Liz will do best. Halden if needed. No, Halden at the ready. I want you there, of course. And find me a companion for the booth. Not too young." Mrs. Featherwink's eye could not discern the delineation between what Gordy needed and boys. There was something soft around the navel of a boy that repulsed Gordy. The lack of muscle tone. A thing too soft. "Make the room bare and clean. A solid table. The usual equipment. I arrive at noon." Gordy rose and lifted the fat hand to his lips while pressing gold into her palm with the other.

He fairly ran down the wet street. The fog was full on. Gordy raised his cane to hail a cab. The horse's steamy breath mixed with the fog. Giving the name of a club not far from his own to the driver, he settled back and sighed. He let his hand fall into his lap and gave his cock a few strokes. But only a few. He could, he would wait for tomorrow. Back to where the lamps flickered in the fog. A quick walk to his own club. A brandy by the fire and clean sheets scented with lemon. A mind set on fulfillment and satisfaction let sleep in quickly.

By midmorning Gordy was bathed and dressed. His step was light as he descended the stairs and found his favorite chair. He suppressed the urge to whistle. Coffee at his elbow. A newspaper. Polite conversation with an old friend of his father's. "Yes, the farm was doing well. The pulse beating in his neck. Yes, his missed the old man most dreadfully. Fresh skin stretched tight over the ribs. Yes, he was returning to the estate soon. The blue eyes swimming with tears. No, so sorry, he couldn't join him for luncheon. Smooth skin. Yes, more coffee and toast and jam, quince this time. The jut of a hip bone. Yes, the fog was dreadful. Lack of adequate nourishment was its own aphrodisiac. Back to his room to gather up his coat. No, don't call a cab. Trusting eyes full of pain and hope. No, he wouldn't catch his death in the fog. The clink of the chain. Yes, his hat. Please fetch it. Nothing like a quick walk to calm desires.

Gordy slipped in at the yellow door and nodded at Halden. He handed him his hat and coat. Mrs. Featherwink stood as he entered the red room. She clasped his hand in both of hers.

"I have the room ready. I'm sure you'll like what we've done. Come, let's take a little look to see if there are any changes you might like."

Up the back stairs and down a dim corridor to two doors at the far end. Gordy knew the way well. He pushed open the door to the observation room. Small, dim with a worn leather wing chair set before a large window. Brandy and a glass on the side table. A few pillows on the floor. A speaking tube hung on the table. On the back wall a small cabinet with colored glass jars of oils and ointments and a slender wand with a bulbous head on a side table. Gordy sank into the chair and scanned the adjoining room. It was good. Not just right, but easily fixed. Mrs. Featherwink waited at the door clasping her hands in anticipation.

"Is this what you require?" She rocked back and forth on her tinny feet. "I have two boys for you to choose between." After a sharp glance from Gordy, "Both, if you like."

"Not boys. Men, young men, Mrs. Featherwink. Don't destroy it now with boys."

"Yes, young men. I'll have them brought up."

"Not yet, Mrs. F. I want to make a few changes next door. Don't frown. You've done quite well. Call up March to move a few things."

"Sit back and use the speaking tube. March will make it just right."

March followed directions well. The tub was moved back a bit. The low table covered with a white sheet to hide the ropes at the corners pushed against a wall. The room was bare otherwise. The wood floor scrubbed clean. The pictures removed from the walls. The bed taken down and carried out. A few hooks and eye blots protruded from the heavy ceiling beam. Gordy left the observation room and paced the room. His window on his side was a mirror on this. It was going to be a long day. He had dinner plans and theater for later, but that was hours away.

"Dear Mrs. F. I'll retire to my room. Please bring in my selections and await my instructions. And please tell me they've been cleaned."

Settled in the leather chair, Gordy poured a small brandy and waited. The young men were ushered into the clean room by March. Each had some fine points. Each freshly shaved and smooth. Slim and well made. Gordy instructed them to turn and bend. They were brought to the mirror so he could inspect their teeth. They stepped back and stroked each other to full erection with practiced hands and more than a little hint of familiarity. Hands moving over buttocks and chests. They kissed. A nipple pinched. Tongues touched. An involuntary thrusting of the ass. Gordy called for the light-boned one that kept sneaking fearful looks at the table.

"Blindfold the one on my right and bring him in. Oh, Mrs. Featherwink, could I trouble you for some lengths of rope."

Blindfolded, the light-boned man stood at the side of the room his head down waiting for Gordy's instructions. Gordy was pleased to see he still maintained his erection. He walked up behind him and pulled his arms back and up twisting cruelly, securing them at the wrist and elbow, turned so the bound wrists rested between the shoulder blades. There would be no need for arms today and no need for plied gentleness. This one knew what he was there for. Gordy kicked a pillow out of the way and forced him to his knees. Gordy looked at his handy work. Just a few things from the cabinet and instructions for the madam. All was ready.

As instructed, the young man was hauled up from the cell still in manacles and long chain, a hood over his head. He tried to impede his progress by digging his heels into the floor. He struggled in stronger arms. March and Halden held him by the biceps directly in front of the mirror where Gordy waited in his chair. The fear was palpable. Gordy's penis twitched in his trousers. This time. This was the right one this time. Then he saw his handkerchief balled in the young man's fist. Gordy's penis pushed against his small clothes. It was a very good sign. He had set the hook firmly.

"Remove the hood." In the clean room his voice rasped through the tube. Halden yanked the hood off and dropped it on the floor. Black hair fell across the closed eyes. They'd open soon enough. Steaming water carried bucket by bucket filled the tub. Halden looped the chain over a hook in the beam and using his knife began cutting away the filthy shirt. As firm and fine a chest as Gordy remembered. And the bruises, purple and black, some fading to green and yellow. Knuckle marks and the long bruise left by a baton. A thin white scare ran the length of the ribs. The muscles on the young man flexed and twitched as he fought his chain. The fear rolled off his body. His lips parted and pulled back in panic, showing strong, white teeth. Steam rose from the tubs. Halden's knife flashed as he cut through the waistband of the worn trousers. The fabric all but fell apart when Halden pulled at the seams. The legs were as strong and fine as Gordy had assessed in the cell. The knees scraped and bruised. It added so much to his beauty. Strong thighs with little hair. The fight was on. The prize struggled in dead earnest now. He pulled at the chain above his head. His scream was harsh and strained. He kicked and twisted. He held the handkerchief even more tightly, knuckles white. He twisted on his chain and turned his ass to the mirror. Round and firm as an apple. Small enough to cover with one of Gordy's hands. His hips were narrow. His ribcage compact. He twisted again, showing his flaccid penis. His fear caused his testicles to pull up. Gordy jerked forward in the chair. His penis. Not hooded. He'd been circumcised. What whores trick was this? Sweat trickled down the prize's sides and chest. He kicked at Halden then March again and again. He gasped with the exertion. They grasped his thighs and held him still.

"To me, Mrs. F." The old woman ran to the observation room.

"My Lord," she said in feigned ignorance. "What is your trouble?"

"What's that?" Gordy pointed. "You brought me a, a, a what?"

" I brought you something special. Something beyond the pedestrian. Compare." She pulled the small-boned youth to the viewing window and lifted his now flaccid penis. "The coloring is inferior. The sensitivity impeded by the foreskin. And the aspect of cleanliness and freshness is beyond count." She picked up the uncut member between her thumb and index finger. "There isn't the beauty here, the implied readiness, the accessibility. The semblance of equality to the master removed. This, this isn't what you want." She dropped the offensive object. "Lord Downcliff, before you is the new rage in Paris, Moscow, and Venice. I assure you this cut is an especial soon to be so in demand that few will afford on a Christian man."

Gordy looked at his prize's penis and at that of small-boned creature. "I'll consider it."

Mrs. Featherwink bobbed and fled the observation room and quickly reappeared in the clean room.

He fought hard as he was pulled to the hot bath. March held his legs high; Halden grasped him under the arms. The Prize arched his back in a desperate attempt to avoid the water and break free. The cords in his neck stood out. He turned his head in an attempt to bite the nearest arm. And with a splash he was in. March lifted his ankles to ensure he didn't find purchase and escape the tub and Halden wrapped the chain securely to the tub handle. Miss Liz soaped and scrubbed him. His head slipped beneath the water. He sputtered to the surface.

The scene before Gordy wasn't the spectacle he desired. It was a brawl. He reached for the speaking tube. "Calm him, Mrs. F."

Mrs. Featherwink pulled a brown bottle from her starched apron pocket. Laudanum. A few drops often eased the way for many a reluctant employee. Gordy watched as a few drops were pushed past the clenched teeth. The change was swift; the shadow of a cloud passing over a bright lake. The slow dulling of the reflective surface as the light slowly faded. And so it was with the prize. The tension fell from his limbs, his breathing slowed, the frighten horse look left his eyes, his torso sagged, his struggles became less coordinated and more feeble. Drugged his fight was beautiful. Here was the ballet Gordy desired. Mrs. Featherwink knew where the delicate balance lay.

Gordy readied himself to enjoy the next steps in the cleaning. He pulled his companion to the foot of the leather chair and forced him to his knees and bent him from the waist. A pillow from the floor covered the bound arms. The hands looked a little blue, but no real danger here. Gordy placed his legs on his footstool and shifted a bit in his seat to find the most comfortable spot. He poured another small brandy, took a sip and smiled in satisfaction. He selected a slender wand with a bulbous head from the side table and gave the footstool's ass a few lashes. It trembled with the exertion of maintaining a level back without the aid of his arms. The vibrations moved up Gordy's legs.

March and Halden lifted the prize from the tub and placed his feet on to two low sturdy stools and forced him to squat, bent forward, his chest over his knees, his body a three-quarter view from Gordy's viewing room. His ankles secured on each oak stool with cuffs and rough hemp rope. Mrs. Featherwink lifted the enema bag from table and pressed it to her cheek to judge the temperature, and satisfied, ran the nozzle head up the prize's crack. He tried to push himself into a standing position but Halden, March, and the laudanum did their work to force him into place. His muscles strained. A guttural, animal sound emerged from the back of his throat. A dab of grease and the nozzle head worked slowly passed the clenched anus. The release of the clamp sent the warm sudsy water along the tube and a strong squeeze from Mrs. F. sent it rushing into the prize. He twitched and fought to pivot on the stools. The water continued to flow. Miss Liz held the basin close to the rounded buttocks. Placing a practiced hand on the abdomen, Mrs. Featherwink judged the capacity of the lower intestines. Satisfied, she put a quick kink in the hose. The prize's head fell back, eyes closed in near agony. His shame, fear, and pain washed exquisitely across his face.

Gordy gave his footstool's ass two quick lashed and moved the bulbous wand around to the mouth, giving it a moment to lubricate it. Back to the anus and the wand bent slightly and the bulb slowly spread the puckered opening. A moment of resistance and it was in. Gordy watched the thin black shaft bend and the bulb worked deeper into the channel. The footstool trembled beneath his legs, and with a grunt the front half collapsed on the floor.

"Kneel between my knees." Gordy unbuttoned his trousers and slid them and his linen small clothes to his ankles. His penis, set free, bobbed against his stomach. He looped his knees over the footstool's shoulders and eased farther down in the soft chair. "Suck my balls." And they were sucked and licked. His penis cried out for attention, but Gordy deigned himself. Not yet. He bent the long wand over the footstool's back and continued to work the head back and forth. He gave the wand a flick causing a long shiver to jiggle the head planted deeply in the ass. The vibration produced frantic sucking. The ass moved forward as the footstool tried to find a bit of friction for his engorged shaft. Gordy pulled the stool back by the hair and smacked the swollen lips. "Try that again and I'll see you strapped to a fuck bench at the Turtle."

The nozzle was removed and the Prize ordered to empty his bowels. He froze. The color rose nicely. He refused. Halden smacked him in the face and still he refused to release the soapy water. Mrs. Featherwink reached around and firmly grasped his penis and gave it a sharp pull. The dirty water gushed into the chamber pot. Again he was filled and emptied until the water ran clear. His torso sagged in the arms of his tormentors. His legs trembled. The muscles in his back clenched. Miss Liz washed his ass and thighs.

Gordy's footstool moved his mouth as directed to the penis. Gordy continued to send strong vibrations along to the bulb causing it to vibrate against the footstool's prostrate. He loved the prolonged promise of fulfillment. The footstool's increased desired and urgent need caused the back of his throat to open and Gordy felt his swollen head pulled deep into the hot throat. He came. The footstool choked and fought for breath. He pushed against his legs. Gordy prolonged the moment, the feeling of the opening to the esophagus on the glands as his erection died. He slowly withdrew and allowed the footstool to fall to the floor in a faint the wand still wedged in his rectum. It made a pretty picture. Blue lips, blue hands, and a tail.

In the clean room, the Prize's body want limp as he was untied from the stools and carried to the table. His arms were pulled back over his head and secured at the top of the table in hoops of hemp. Ropes looped around his knees and were drawn back and out toward the head of the table until he resembled a frog belly up on a pond bank. The ankles secured. Mrs. Featherwink looked into the mirror and receiving no counter indication began smearing a thick yellow cream on the pubic hair with her fat fingers. Miss Liz used damp warm towels to remove the hair. The ropes were drawn tighter pulling the knees higher and farther out causing the Prize's pelvis to tilt and expose his anus. He groaned at the stretching and the same cream was used on his chest, ass, legs, and underarms until Prize was hairless from the neck down.

Gordy loved this view. So open, ready for anything. Thighs pushed flat. Anus exposed. Balls and penis completely naked to the cool air. The soft skin where the top of the leg met the groin. So sensitive and accessible. "Make him erect." Miss Liz grabbed the member firmly and began messaging the length, giving it a twist as her hand covered the head. Dipping her fingers in violet ointment, Miss Liz continued to massage the growing shaft. She placed her thumbs on the underside of the head and ran the slick balls of her thumbs over the glands. The Prize mouthed a silent protest. The penis rose under Liz's hands. His erection made him look even more vulnerable. It didn't take long before he was pushing into the strokes. "Stop." His pelvis lifted and pushed into the empty air. His stomach muscles rippled. His buttocks clenched with the effort to push up to find nothing. Gordy sighed. "To me, Mrs. F." He looked at the footstool stirring on the floor. "Clean me." It struggled awkwardly back to its knees and slid its cheek along Gordy's inner thigh. The tongue darted in and out as he licked the crease in Gordy's upper leg and groin. Mrs. Featherwink entered and watched with a practiced eye as the flicking tongue work its way to the shaft.

"Here's what I want." Gordy's eyes remained on the Prize tied to the table in the next room. "I'll return to collect the merchandise when it's ready." He kicked in agitation at the footstool. "He will know these things, his name is Prize, he was born in a brothel, he was cut for the pleasure of men, his mother sold him, this is his whole life." Mrs. Featherwink nodded. "You will not break his bones. You will not break his teeth, do not over feed him. Educate him to my needs. You will break him to service."

"I understand. Were things to your satisfaction?"

"I managed. Not much endurance with this one." Gordy pushed his companion away and pulled his trousers and small clothes back in place.

"He's my niece's boy. I'd hoped he'd do better."

"One could hope." Gordy extended his hand and confirmed his order. "Send me word when he is trained and ready for me." Gordy straightened his clothes and removed his wallet from his coat pocket. He passed a number of large bills into Mrs. Featherwink's hand.

The house was beginning to stir. The Prize was untied from the table, his face covered by the black hood. Halden and March wrapped him in the sheet from the table and carried him down the back stair to the cell. The doors they passed remained closed. Only the eyes in the oil paintings watched the passage of the shrouded form. The specials waited until Mrs. Featherwink's heavy steps receded from the hall. They trembled in their rooms from the echoes of Prize's screams and moans.