Brat

Forced milking

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Brat

Background: This story is set in the world of the movie Il Saprofita in which the Baroness Clotilde Bezzi lives in a mansion with her 16-year-old wheelchair-bound son Parsifal and their servants. The Baroness hires a good-looking disgraced ex-seminary initiate named Giancarlo to help escort her son to Lourdes, but after the failed treatment, she falls in lust with him and he stays on at her mansion to help with the sometimes-bratty son that she adores.

 

Parsifal was in the bath. He was paralysed from the waist down. Usually his personal attendant Giancarlo or their housekeeper Terese bathed him, but today his mother was taking care of the task personally. Although he felt was getting too old to be seen naked by his mother,  she was often busy so he was pleased at the opportunity to spend time with her.

She washed his back, rubbing a soapy palm across his skin, watched by Teresa who sat on the edge of the bidet watching in case she was called upon to assist. The boy was almost old enough to take an interest in if it wasn’t for the fact that his condition left him so very scrawny.

An elderly maid entered the bathroom, and placed a stack of towels on the floor then left. Parsifal watched then turned to his mother with a mischievous smile.

“Mama, I thought that for breakfast in the morning, I would like a maid.”

His voice was a little high for his 16 years of age. He had started puberty late.

His mothered laughed at her son’s weak joke.

“Maybe a beautiful and prosperous wench eh?”

 

At that moment Giancarlo entered the large bathroom. Clotilde turned to him.

“Ah, come on, give me a hand to bathe him.”

Teresa moved back and switched from the bidet to the closed lavatory seat, giving the handsome man with dark blonde hair room to approach the bath. Parsifal looked up at the man he had come to like and admire, with a puppy dog smile. Giancarlo was everything he aspired to be, and many things he would likely never be. The man was tall, strong, handsome, and of course, he could walk.

Giancarlo dropped to a knee beside the bath and rolled up his sleeves whilst Parsifal watched his every move closely. The man reached into the water and picked up a handful of the bubbles that were covering the bath then gently started washing the boy’s slim chest. The man’s eyes met Clotilde’s and they locked gazes as something passed between them.

Parsifal watched the exchange, the humour draining from his expression. He looked away, an uncertain, lonely boy. Then he looked down at the bubbles shielding his modesty. He felt something stirring beneath the bubbles in the presence of the raw animal magnetism between the two most important adults in his life.

His mother and Giancarlo continued bathing him with increasing disinterested, their gazes locked together. His mother no longer joked playfully with him. Parsifal looked from one to the other, bewildered at the change in atmosphere. Over on the lavatory, Teresa knew exactly what was occurring but it wasn’t her place to say anything.

After just a minute in Giancarlo’s presence, Clotilde made a weak excuse to lead Giancarlo from the room.

“Come outside a moment, I need to talk. I see that you are still upset about leaving the seminary.”

Giancarlo had been away from the suffocating atmosphere of the seminary for many months, and he was anything BUT upset.

Parsifal watched the two adults leave the room and his innocent expression of disappointment changed into annoyance.

Terese dutifully approached and resumed washing his back, but it had none of the tender sensuality of his mother’s actions. Parsifal snapped at her.

“Bitch. Bitch help me out right away!”

His annoyance rapidly transmuted into rage at the sudden conclusion of his time with his mother and Giancarlo.

“Bitch! Come on!”

He was every bit the spoiled brat now, used to speaking to the help however he wanted.

 

Meanwhile, in Clotilde’s bedroom, Giancarlo was tearing at the Baroness’s clothes, ravishing her like a man who had not had sex in a year…

 

Teresa lifted the boy from the bath and into his wheelchair. His towelling dressing gown was already laid out on it. He wriggled his arms into the sleeves, then quickly pulled closed the open flaps at the front, hiding his naked groin. In his anger, he wanted to hide his nudity from her, instinctively knowing that it diminished him; made him vulnerable. His slender penis revealed his lack of manhood, and his droopy sack was hairless.

The woman attempted to towel the boy’s hair dry, but he was angry beyond his capacity to explain why. He swatted her hands away.

“Leave me alone bitch!” he spat with needless spite, then wheeled himself hurriedly from the bathroom.

“Fuck you cripple!” Terese murmured under her breath at the retreating boy.

 

Parsifal wheeled his chair out of the room and onto the mansion’s upper landing. His bedroom was to the far right at the end of the passage, but his mother’s room was in between. He paused outside her door, knowing that within, she’d be on her back, legs spread as Giancarlo took her like a savage beast. Parsifal leaned forwards and brought his eye to the large keyhole. The scene within was exactly as he’d imagined.

The bed ran across the room from left to right and his mother lay on her back across the bed with her head towards the door. Her hair was dishevelled, her eyes closed and her usually stoic demeanour abandoned in the throes of passion. Her legs were spread wide, and Giancarlo was thrusting hard, slamming his cock into her, almost snarling with lust. Like the Baroness below him, his face was sheathed in sweat from his exertions, amplified by the summer warmth.

Parsifal couldn’t believe that his mother, usually so down-to-earth and perfunctory towards the staff, would allow herself to be demeaned by the help in this manner. He was scandalised to see her acting in such a manner, yet there was something incredibly exciting about the scene as well. Parsifal’s heart was beating fast and he felt a tingling growing in his balls. He reached down and slipped his hand into the fold of his dressing gown and gripped his penis. It was hard. It did that increasingly since Giancarlo had joined the household.

Parsifal idly rolled the foreskin-covered head of his shaft between his thumb and the side of his index finger, continuing to watch the young former-priest fucking his mother with great gusto. Then Giancarlo looked up.

Parsifal was momentarily shocked. Surely the man could not see him at the keyhole from where he stood? It was more than ten feet away. The man’s eyes focussed directly on the hole, then a slow leer crossed his face and he gave the boy’s mother a few extra-hard thrusts, as though to emphasise that he was the one in charge. Parsifal watched, open-mouthed. He’d been caught spying on them twice before and he knew it would be serious if he was caught a third time, but he couldn’t help himself. Their lustful coupling fascinated him: made him feel strange in ways he’d never felt before.

Giancarlo walked slowly to Parsifal’s side of the bed. As he walked, Parsifal could see the man’s huge tool swaying and bouncing in front of him like the boom of a yacht swaying from side-to-side in a strong wind. Parsifal had seen no other erect penises apart from his own, but Giancarlo’s looked almost as large as his skinny forearm.

The man dragged Clotilde around, turning her body 180 degrees on the bed.

“What are you doing she asked?” opening her eyes.

“Turning you so that I can see your beautiful face in the sunlight better,” he replied, lying easily.

She smiled and closed her eyes again.

Giancarlo moved slightly to the side so that Parsifal could see, then he spread her legs wide and hoisted them high in the air, exposing her middle-aged pussy to her son. It was loose, not completely closed from his thick cock. Parsifal looked at the wet orifice with equal measures of fascination and disgust.

Giancarlo spread his legs, adopting a wide stance, then he re-inserted his thick nine-inch penis and started pounding the prone woman again.

Parsifal could see the man’s powerful rod smashing in and out of his mother’s pussy, stretching it, sliding through its self-lubricated wetness. And beneath, the man’s balls, bigger than Parsifal’s fist, swinging in their loose sack, slapping against her pudenda.

The man drove into her harder and faster, violently enough to bruise the pussy that until he arrived had not seen a cock in ten years. She started moaning as she came, and he thrust into her with pile-driver force.

Parsifal watched, transfixed. He was certain that the man was putting on a show for his benefit but he could not fathom whether the man was doing it as kindness, educating him in the ways of sex as a big brother might, or if he was showing off that the boy’s mother was his to take as he wished.

Parsifal didn’t think about it too deeply. The man’s motivations were his own. Parsifal barely cared about the man’s reasons whilst his mother was clearly enjoying the experience so much. And the object of Parsifal’s attentions was not his mother, it was Giancarlo.

Ever since the man had joined the household, Parsifal had followed him around like shadow, watching him constantly. The fact that the man had been hired specifically to take care of the boy, then retained as a male mentor personal attendant made it easy for the boy to be around the object of his interest.

 

The Baroness stifled a scream of ecstasy as she came, and Giancarlo grunted like a rutting warthog as he allowed himself to orgasm in harmony with her. He smashed his thick cock into her at lightning pace as he filled her saggy pussy. She clawed at him and they both groaned together.

Parsifal watched the man nailing his mother, Giancarlo’s ass and legs covered in thick hair moving in and out as he seeded her. The man’s balls had risen high, clutching the base of his thick cock like a softball-sized dog’s knot. Unconsciously, Parsifal moved his fingers faster and faster within his dressing gown, then he felt a familiar sensation between his legs; a rushing, pumping feeling of excitement. Then there was wetness on his fingertips and the head of his penis was slippery between his finger and thumb. Parsifal couldn’t help but let out a short cry of ecstasy as he experienced an orgasm.

Then the adults were done. They remained still for a minute before Giancarlo slowly withdrew from Clotilde’s pussy, allowing the boy to see every inch of his throbbing cock. As it slid from her pussy, it was followed by a river of white cum. Parsifal looked as closely as he could, his eye still glued to the keyhole and his hand still diddling his own meat.

Giancarlo stepped away, standing profile now, giving the boy a clear view of his monster cock and his mother’s leaking pussy. But Parsifal was interested only in what Giancarlo was displaying; a flagpole of rigid, throbbing meat, angled upwards, the urethra cording along its underside, veins standing out along its sides. A twirling rope of white goo dangled from the eye, before falling almost in slow motion to the floor.

The boy was panting, not from the residue of his own orgasm, but out of excitement of seeing the man’s beautiful, powerful weapon in all its glory, like a cannon that has just fired, but ready to go again.

Giancarlo looked languidly towards the keyhole then smiled, thrust his hips a few times in the air to make his cock bounce, then he winked and turned back to the Baroness.

 

“Are you spying on your mother again?!”

Parsifal heard a sharp voice behind him. It was Terese standing over him.

“No, no,” he said defensively. “I was just passing and I heard a noise. I stopped to see what it was.”

“Oh really?”

She yanked his dressing gown open and his stiff prick bounced into view.

“Then what’s this?”

“What?! Nothing. I don’t know. I didn’t…” Parsifal blustered desperately trying to justify himself.

His penis twitched repeatedly in the excitable after-echo of his first orgasm.

At that moment the bedroom door opened and his mother stood there dressed in a robe.

“What’s all this commo…”

She looked down at her son’s erect penis, still exposed in his lap, taking in also the smear of  semen on the turned back flap of his dressing gown. She frowned.

“Parsifal, are you spying on me again? For goodness sakes can’t I have ANY privacy? And please tell me you’re not playing with yourself out here in the hallway, masturbating like a chimpanzee in the zoo?”

“N… no mother,” he said weakly.

“Don’t lie to me Parsifal. I can see the evidence of my own eyes. This absolutely HAS to stop.”

She addressed the servant.

“Terese, please take him to his bedroom and get him cleaned up.”

She looked down at her son’s penis. It twitched again as his body attempted to expel far more semen than his testicles could produce.

“You can go to bed without any supper tonight.”

“But mummy…” the boy implored, instinctively using child-language in an attempt to elicit tenderness.

“Don’t ‘mummy’ me young man, and cover that thing up.”

She swatted his slim penis dismissively with the back of her fingers. It bounced away before returning resolutely to its former position of attention. She looked at the back of her fingers. There was a small smear of wetness. An expression of disgust painted itself on her face as she wiped her son’s spunk off on her robe. Then she addressed the house keeper again as Parsifal pulled his dressing gown over his shame.

“Take him away Terese.”

“Mummy I’m sorry!” Parsifal said desperately, looking over his shoulder as Terese started to push his wheelchair towards his room.

Behind his mother, Giancarlo stood grinning.

 

 

 

Two weeks later

Terese lifted Parsifal from the bath onto his wheelchair. His dressing gown was laid out for him to sit on. The boy was in a pleasant mood and they chatted as she dried his hair, and he allowed the water on his skin to soak into the towelling robe.

Once his hair was dry, the woman lifted the boy’s feet onto the wheelchair foot supports and wheeled him from the room.

“Where are we going today?” he asked for the third time.

She laughed at his persistence.

“I’m sorry Parsifal but I simply do not know. Your mother hasn’t seen fit to tell me. She simply asked me to ensure that you are bathed early and ready to go.”

She wheeled him along the landing, but rather than continuing towards his bedroom to get him dressed, she turned into the elevator that his mother had had installed at the top of the grand stairway.

“I’m not dressed yet Terese. Why are we going downstairs?”

“We can get you dressed later. Your mother asked me to take you for a little walk in the fresh air first.”

“But I’m naked.” he protested. “All I have is my dressing gown!”

“Oh not to worry. Nobody is going to be looking at you.”

“But I’ll be cold.” He wheedled.

“Of course you won’t. It’s a beautiful summer’s day and the sun is already shining.

“Terese, stop. I don’t want to go outside!” he said, using his command voice.

“I’m sorry Master Parsifal but your mother has ordered me to do this. It’s not for me to disobey her.”

“But why?”

“You’ll find out soon enough sir.”

 

Terese wheeled the boy from the elevator across the tiled grand entrance towards the double front doors. He was powerless to resist. He could move his arms and upper body freely, and whilst he retained full sensation in every part of his body, he was completely paralysed from the waist down.

She opened the doors and pushed him through, carefully lowering him down the half dozen stone steps before pushing him across the gravelled driveway onto the low grass verge that denoted the boundary of the magnificent flower beds that surrounded the house for 100 yards in every direction.

She stopped the wheelchair and put on the brake.

“What are we doing?” Parsifal demanded. “We don’t usually go for walks in the morning.”

Terese didn’t answer him, instead she reached behind the chair into a canvas bag hanging from the back. She pulled out a short, padded arm restraint. Without explanation, she walked to the right side of the chair, gripped Parsifal’s arm and wrapped the restraint around it just below the elbow, and secured his arm immovably to the arm rest.

“Hey what are you doing? Why are you.. I can’t… Stop! Terese, don’t do that!”

She ignored him and took out a second restraint. He tried to fight her off as she wrapped it around his left arm, but even at full strength, he was just a slender boy with skinny arms, and without the use of his right arm, or the ability to stand or turn fully he had no hope of resisting her and in 30 seconds he found himself sitting with both arms secured to the chair.

She moved to the front of the chair and turned the foot supports outwards, taking Parsifal’s legs with them. With no control over his legs, there was nothing he could do to fight back as his knees were pulled apart to the widest extents the chair would allow. He felt suddenly exposed and he could feel the breeze drifting up his dressing gown and across his bare testicles. The air was warm but it still drew goose bumps on his hairless sack.

“Hey bitch, stop!” he demanded, reverting to brattish behaviour when he was forced to do something he didn’t like.

“I can’t do that sir. Your mother instructed me to do this.”

“But WHAT are you doing?”

Terese whipped the two sides of his dressing gown apart, exposing his genitals, then she pulled the dressing gown up so that it was tucked behind the small of his back, leaving him sitting on the chair with his bare bottom.

“It’s this,” she said, lightly swatting his penis with her fingertips. “It’s getting you into trouble. And these.” She lifted his loose balls. “They’re making you think you’re a man when you’re still just a boy. Being rude to me, spying on your mother and masturbating on the landing!”

“I wasn’t!” he protested, his voice squeaky with indignation.

“Yes you were. I stood and watched you playing with yourself for two minutes before you squirted.”

She pulled a device out from beneath the chair. It was a hollow semi-circle, about the size of an orange, with a soft rubber inside and lined with a grid of copper contacts. It was connected via a wire to a large battery in the base of the chair. She knelt in front of him and gripped the neck of his pale scrotum. His testicles hung low in his smooth sack. With her other hand she lifted the soft rubber semi-circle towards his nuts.

“Terese WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” he screamed, alarmed at her intimate touch.

He was used to her touching his privates with a sponge or towel as she washed or dried him but this was very different.

His nuts passed into the cup and it snapped shut as they touched a contact in the base, forming a circle around his balls. He gasped and his upper body went momentarily rigid as it enfolded his adolescent testicles like a clam shutting on a careless diver’s finger.

Terese laughed at his comical expression of surprise.

“It’s quite alright Master Parsifal. It won’t hurt you.”

She released the device and it dangled heavily between his legs where his testicles would normally be.

“What’s it for? Take it off. I don’t like it.”

“I can’t do that Sir. It’s going to drain those young balls of yours. You’re too excitable. Giancarlo spoke to an expert. This is a device to help calm young men like you down.”

“Giancarlo?”

Parsifal was shocked to the core that the man he admired so much would be involved in this scheme.

“Yes, he’s sick of you watching him all the time.”

“I’m not…” Parsifal started, his face reddening with embarrassment.

“Yes you are. We’ve both seen you watching him with your flagpole sticking up. Your mother thinks it’s her you’re spying on, but you and I both know it’s Giancarlo’s fat rod that you’re interested in.”

“That’s not true!”

“Yes it is. There’s no point lying. If you were not a cripple, he might even let you fuck him. He lets your mother. He’s only interested in money. Maybe if you ask him nicely, he’ll let you suck it.”

“How dare you! I’ll tell my mother what you said.

“Go right ahead. She’s standing over there by the door watching.”

Parsifal strained to turn. It was an effort, especially with his arms restrained but he could just about make out his mother standing arms folded by the door watching as he was prepared.

“Mother!” he called, but she ignored him.

 

Terese moved to the back of the chair and pulled a panel backwards. A small rectangular hole opened in the seat beneath Parsifal’s bottom. She spread his cheeks with the fingers and thumb of her left hand then lifted a slender probe on a rod towards his small white starfish. She pressed the lubricated end against his sphincter and he gasped for a second time. She ignored him and continued pushing. He had no control over the muscles in his sphincter and he felt it spreading easily for the finger-thick probe. It slid up into him without resistance.

“Terese please don’t do that . It’s not ahhAH!”

He couldn’t help letting out a little cry as it touched his special place. She smiled and locked it off.

“Terese why?” he implored.

“Gotta make your little soldier stand to attention.”

“What does that mean?”

She turned on the anal probe and a low current started stimulating his prostate. She looked over his shoulder as his penis lifted from completely flaccid to rigid in six gargantuan pumps of blood.

She smiled and dropped to her knees before him. She twanged his five-inch member. It barely moved.

“Looks like I can make it stand up on command!”

She smiled.

Parsifal was mortified. He looked at her like a boy who had just discovered over dinner that his father was a serial killer.

Terese produced one final device, another half circle, this time lined with soft rubber tendrils, each no longer than the width of his little finger. They were dripping with thick lubricating jelly.

Terese reached down again towards Parsifal’s penis. Although it was as hard as steel, the long snout-like foreskin still covered its head. She gripped the shaft between her first two fingers and thumb and moved towards the base, drawing the pale skin with it. Parsifal’s glans was revealed. It was a livid red.

She snickered.

“You play with yourself too much. You’re going to wear it out!”

He was beyond speech. Shocked, mortified, transfixed, waiting only now, to see what else his attendant was going to do to him.

 

She pushed a tiny metal sound into the top half inch of his penis then lowered the inverted circle over his glans. The hollow sound poked through a hole in the middle of the cap. The soft tendrils surrounded his glans on all sides as the cap closed lightly around him like a German world war two soldier’s helmet.

The second it touched him he knew it was far more stimulating than his hand. He felt a tingling in his testicles that hinted at his eagerness to orgasm.

“What is all this for Terese?” he asked, meek as a mouse now.

“It will make you orgasm, time and time again. You’ll squirt until your young balls are dry as the desert, but you’ll keep on orgasming.”

“What’s an orgasm?”

“It’s the feeling when you squirt. It’s what makes it happen.”

“Will it hurt?”

“Of course not. But you’ll probably want it to stop. Apparently most young men find it…” she searched for the perfect word. “…unsettling to be forced to have orgasms against their will.”

He pondered her words before asking, “How long will it go on for?”

She smiled but it was malice that motivated her.

“Many hours. Eight or more.”

“Eight hours! How many times will I…?”

“Orgasm? I don’t know. 20, 50? I hope it’s a thousand after the way you’ve behaved towards me.”

“I’m sorry Terese,” he said in a small sincere voice.

He was no longer trying to persuade her to release him, but now, facing the consequences of his behaviour for the first time, he realised how horribly he had treated her.

Without answering, she turned on the penile stimulator. The small tendrils immediately started swaying and moving over the surface of his glans. It was the most erotic sensation he’d ever experienced.

“Oh, oh, oh gosh,” he gasped, his expletives lost as his penis was expertly teased.

“There’s more yet.”

“Oh Terese no!”

She turned on the testicular stimulator. It immediately started to vibrate, paradoxically distracting him from the feeling of wanting to cum but arousing him still further. The electrical contacts also send a wave of A/C currents into each of his testicles. He felt the electricity deep inside each oval as a series of complicated syncopated pulses; not painful but making his testicles thrum with masculine energy.

He inhaled in a single long shuddering gasp that lasted fully ten seconds and his eyes widened like the eyes of a barn owl.

“Good?” Terese asked.

He stared wide-eyed at her, his entire upper body vibrating like an epileptic having a seizure. He could not speak. His body was completely overwhelmed by the competing sensation in his prostate, glans, and testicles.

Three huge sprays of surprisingly watery cum rose into view past his face before dropping back onto his pale belly. He acted as though he was unaware that he’d just ejaculated.

Terese’s smile broadened.

“I guess so. Many more of those to come.”

Parsifal could hear and understand her but his mind was completely blown by the sensations he was experiencing. It was literally overwhelming. He tried to speak. Tried to ask her to stop the devices.

“Ah ah,” he managed in a gurgling throaty voice, but he could not articulate anything intelligible.

“Yeah, little boy finally knows what it’s like to REALLY be turned on. And the best thing; you’re going to get to enjoy this for hours and hours to come.”

 

Terese had endured Parsifal’s appalling fits of temper and rudeness for three years, and it was only the high salary and her need for a job that enabled her to endure his brattish behaviour. Now, as she looked at the boy, his stiff member standing up in his lap, rendered speechless by devices that literally drained him of his precious semen – the essence of his maleness, it made it all worth it. His slender cock had veins bulging along its pale length, making it look much older than it was, but nevertheless, the boy was powerless as the testicle zappers, and the glans teaser, and the anal stimulator all combined to drive his mind into an over-stimulated orgasmic haze.

The boy’s head wobbled as though he had Parkinson’s disease, but it was no disease he was suffering from. His senses were so overloaded that he could not control the muscles in his head or neck.

 

Terese looked up at Baroness Clotilde and smiled, giving her a nod to confirm that the equipment she had purchased on Giancarlo’s advice was working as it was supposed to. The Baroness gave a curt nod then turned and walked back inside her mansion.

Terese returned to the boy who was trembling and groaning, and she started to wheel him through the garden away from the house. He was aware of her but he simply could not control his body enough to communicate. He could barely muster the determination to make the effort.

50 yards from the house, they came upon the head groundskeeper and a female gardener. Although he could not communicate, the boy was perfectly capable of experiencing embarrassment. His cheeks flushed in the presence of the old man his younger companion.

In his humiliation, Parsifal tried desperately to rise from the chair so that the two workers could not see his nudity. He tried lifting himself, pushing upwards on his hands against the chair’s arms to pull his testicles from the stimulators that surrounded them, but of course, the contraptions were attached to him, and moved the couple of inches that he could manage. But the growing pleasure in his testicles quickly robbed him of his strength and he collapsed back into the wheelchair, impaling himself more deeply on the anal probe.

The old man looked down at Parsifal, the boy’s stiff cock twitching in time with his head.

“What’s happening to young Master Parsifal?”

“He’s been getting very frisky of late. Spying on her lady in her bedroom and pulling on his doodle all the time. Mistress Bezzi has decided he needs calming down.”

The old man looked down at the boy’s lap.

“What’s all that on his pecker?”

“It’s milking him. Doctor in the city claims that he’ll lose all interest if he pops enough times.”

Parsifal let out a few shuddering gasps and his shaking became more violent. A couple of jets of semen rose high from his penis. His animated shaking continued for 20 seconds before returning to their former level.

“How many is enough?”

“Darned if I know. The lady wanted him worked over for a couple of hours but Giancarlo recommended all day.”

The old man looked at his assistant.

“Poor little sod. It’ll ruin him. That man’s got a cruel streak I tell you. Stay well clear of him.”

The young woman nodded.

Terese smiled cordially.

“Well, I’m off to the river to read a book. I’m looking after the Master for the day.”

 

Ten minutes later they arrived at the river bank and Terese applied the brakes to Parsifal’s wheelchair, locking it in place. Then she spread a blanket on the long grass, took a book out of the bag at the back of the chair, and sat on the ground to read.

Beside her, Parsifal was so horny he was losing his mind.

 

Two hours after she had first turned the device on Parsifal’s testicles on, he finally started to regain a little of his senses. It wasn’t that he was any less turned on, but his mind was slowly getting used to the sensation.

“T… T… Terese. P… Please turn… Turn it off!” he begged.

She looked at him surprised to hear him talk, albeit stutteringly after two hours of panting, whining and groaning.

“You know I can’t do that Parsifal. And even if I could, after the way you treated me, why would I?”

His mind felt like it was mired in treacle, slowing his thoughts, making it hard to think.

“S… Sorry Terese,” he groaned.

He could feel his prostate tingling as the probe maintained his fierce erection and his excitement in equal measures.

She returned to her book.

 

At 5.45, she started back to the mansion. Parsifal was still being milked.  In the grand entrance, she met up with the Baroness.

“Hello Terese. How has the treatment gone?”

“Hello my Lady. Well, he’s popped more times than I can count so that’s what it was supposed to do wasn’t it?”

“Yes indeed.”

Clotilde looked at her son’s stiff prick and his tidy bush.

“Did he… Did he ejaculate?”

“Oh yes definitely.”

“Good. I was unsure he was able.”

“Yes he is. At least a dozen times. He’s a normal healthy young man in that regard. Shall I bath Master Parsifal and get him ready for dinner?”

“No, no. He can join us like that. A couple more hours won’t hurt him.”

Parsifal gasped at the thought.

“Did he just have an orgasm?”

“Yes my lady,” Terese said, knowing that his gasp was too short to be an orgasm.

“How many has he had?”

“Well I haven’t been counting, but I’d have to guess a least one every five minutes.”

“And he’s been with you for nine hours. That’s at least 100. That ought to cool his interest for a good while.”

“Yes my lady.”

 

Terese pushed Parsifal into the dining room and positioned his chair to the middle of three seats on one side the 8-place table removing the chair that was already there. Baroness Bezzi arrived a moment later and sat at the head of the table, and soon after, Giancarlo arrived. He glanced at the boy.

“How is Parsifal? Has it worked?”

“He’s been stiff as a nail all day,” Terese replied, “And he’s popped more times than I can count. We guessed at least 100 times. Whether that works is down to the theory. If your doctor’s claims are accurate, Parsifal will be unlikely to show much interest in spying on… anyone for at least 6 months to a year. And maybe he’ll learn some manners as well.”

Giancarlo smiled widely, flashing his handsome smile at the Baroness.

“Bravo, bravo!”

He leaned down and felt the sides of Parsifal’s penis.

“Still hard as wood after all these hours. This device truly is a marvel.”

“Maybe when you’re an old man, you can buy one to help you keep it up?” Terese offered.

It was a mild jibe. Everyone in the household knew he was servicing the Baroness on a regular basis.

He flashed his pearly white teeth. They were all the brighter against the brown of his Mediterranean tan.

“Oh I don’t suppose that’ll ever be a problem for ME.”

The Baroness interrupted their banter.

“I think we’ll leave Parsifal in his chair until bedtime. Just to ensure that his enthusiasm for looking through keyholes is thoroughly dampened. Giancarlo, would you feed him please?”

“Certainly my lady.”

Parsifal was listening to the adults chatting. When he heard his mother tell Giancarlo that he was to remain in the chair until bedtime, his heart sank. That was at least another three or floor hours.

“No please mummy,” he said.

“Ah, you are with us Parsifal. Well, there’s no point cutting your treatment short. It cost a lot of money, and I want to make sure it works properly. Think of it like medicine.”

Stars filled Parsifal’s mind as another orgasm washed over him. He let out a soft moan and his eyes fluttered.

“Uhhh.”

When he could think enough to speak again, 45 seconds had passed. Giancarlo was speaking.

“… going to give it it’s best chance, you might as well turn it up to maximum my Lady. It’s on less than half at the moment.”

The man looked to her and she nodded.

Giancarlo reached between Parsifal’s legs and turned a dial connected to the testicle cup, and Terese did the same to the probe in the boy’s rectum. The voltage passing through his tender testicles and his prostate doubled. The boy let out a strangled squeak. Giancarlo and Terese both supressed grins. The boy had lorded it over both of them, and now he sat, milked and helpless before them.

In spite of the fact that he had only completed an orgasm twenty seconds ago, Parsifal’s head tilted upwards at a 45-degree angle twitching and shaking more than it had before. His eyes almost completely closed and several jets of cum launched into the air through the urethra pipe and landed on the dinner plate before him.

“Is he going to be alright?” Clotilde asked.

“Oh yes,” Terese reassured her. “This is exactly what the doctor warned us to expect. He was like this for the first two hours.”

“Alright, Terese please call Marian and tell her we are ready to eat. Giancarlo, would you please feed Parsifal?”

Giancarlo wiped the boy’s semen from his plate with a napkin.

“Yes my lady, although I don’t think he’s in much mood to eat.”

 

Dinner arrived and Giancarlo and Terese sat on either side of Parsifal. Giancarlo attempted to feed the boy, but Parsifal was in a world of his own and would not take food off a fork when it was placed at his lips.

Every few minutes, the man’s efforts would be punctuated by a gasp from the boy, and a deep shudder that passed right through the teenager’s entire upper body as he was wracked by orgasm after orgasm.

Giancarlo tried proffering soup on a spoon, pouring it gently into the boy’s mouth, but even then, Parsifal appeared unaware that there was anything in his mouth and he wouldn’t swallow the liquid, instead dribbling it from the front of his mouth.

Eventually Clotilde said, “Alright Giancarlo, you’ve done your best. It won’t hurt him to go to bed hungry.”

“Yes my Lady.”

Giancarlo put the spoon down on the table in front of Parsifal then returned to the opposite side of the table where he started eating his own meal. As he ate, Baroness Bezzi talked to him and Terese about their assigned activities for the following day. They each answered her questions politely, offering information where it was useful or invited. As they spoke and ate, Parsifal stared unfocussed across the table in Giancarlo’s general direction, intermittently shuddering, signalling that he was experiencing yet another meteoric orgasm.

The three adults ignored him, but Giancarlo and Terese often exchanged subtle smirks, knowing that the spoiled brat was crawling out of his skin beside them. It amused Terese particularly, as she glanced occasionally down at the boy’s stiff cock, to know that this rude little snot was now powerless, lost in a world of unbearable ecstasy, as his body was played far beyond his ability to endure. Each time Parsifal gasped, she thought of his puny body awash with unwanted pleasure.

 

Eventually, the meal was concluded and the Baroness rose to her feet. Gesturing towards her son, she said, “Terese I think Parsifal can sit by the window until bedtime. Nine is late enough considering the day he’s had.”

“Yes my Lady,” Terese responded and wheeled the boy over to the double bay windows so that he could stare blank-eyed out onto the rear lawns in the summer twilight as the devices attached to him continued to draw unwanted orgasms from his virgin body.

At nine, Terese returned and wheeled Parsifal to the elevator, before pushing him to his bedroom. She deliberately delayed turning the devices off until the very last moment, wanting his manhood to suffer for his arrogant rudeness.

She extracted the probe from his anus, then lifted the cap from his glans. Giancarlo had told her that the testicle enclosure produced the most intense sensations, so she left it attached until the last moment.

Before removing it, she carefully washed his belly and the root of his still hard cock with a flannel, cleaning off the accumulated crust of an untold number of orgasms.

Finally she could delay no longer, and she turned off the testicle stimulator, opening it to reveal his  nuts. His formerly white sack was a deep rosy red colour from hours of vibrations and thousands of amps of low voltage electrical current, and the skin was as withered as if he’d been in a bath all that time.

“Your nuts look rather sore Master Parsifal,” she said in a low voice. “I don’t suppose you’ll be wanting to play with yourself for many a month after today.”

With the current turned off, his penis quickly deflated, shrivelling towards his body, exhausted from its epic marathon.

Terese released the straps holding his arms to the chair, and lifted him, still naked, towards his bed. The cover was already turned back. He didn’t usually sleep naked, but tonight she didn’t think he’d object. She placed him on the bed and pulled the thin summer bedding up under his arms.

He was asleep before she even turned off the light.