An unplanned life

Chapter 3

A Personal Decision

By my fourth day on display I had become something of an attraction. There are not many CRPs modified to this extreme, making me something of a novelty. The PM revealed that, once my certification was issued, I could expect to have a cock in my mouth or my butt at last once an hour for the next weeks. I had plenty of time think, and gradually came to the decision that, since I could not escape my fate, I must learn to accept it. By focussing on anything positive I hoped to not only survive — I’d been told that many sentenced and modified to the extreme as I was, emerged broken in mind and spirit, useless to themselves, their families and society. I hoped I could be strong enough to find a means to rise above the handicap imposed upon me.

The realisation that the restrictions I was subject to were designed to deprive me of any pleasure from the sex I would now be subjected to, gave me inspiration. I would find a way, within my own mind, to ‘enjoy’ my state. As a youth I’d enjoyed engaging with my cousins and liked being restrained by them for sexual pleasure. So, I reasoned, I could convince myself that I enjoyed being like this, and enjoyed being denied sexual satisfaction. Almost immediately I sensed a difference in myself as I began to take pleasure in responding to the taunts, lewd suggestions and lascivious stares.

Alone in my cell at night I gave thought to how I could make my situation something that might benefit my family. It had not escaped my notice that this poirnerium was frequented by members of all the senatorial families, many of whom preferred the use of one of the CRPs to satisfy their lusts. Could this be used to advantage?

“You’re a novelty, CRP. The highest bidder for your first client has paid eight thousand Bÿts to book you for an entire evening. He and his friends have exclusive use of you for four hours.” He refastened my wrists to the slave belt. “But now you have a visitor. Follow me.”

“Yes, Master.” I followed as he led me to a small room that looked out over a garden. At the door, he stepped back and waved me through. “Father?” I gasped.

“Poal,” he greeted, turning from the window. His eyes took in my breasts and then my huge organ, and anger showed in his face. He moved close, and threw his arms around me, pulling me into a hug, but taking care not to touch my rigid genitals. “My son, what have they done to you?”

“As you see, Father.” I kissed him. “Made certain I can never return to any normal life.” I smiled, feeling a warm relaxation thanks to the control which had detected my stress at seeing my parent. “Don’t worry about me, this helmet ensures I am happy and obedient and I have found within me, a means to take advantage of it.” Adding, as we stood face to face, “I will not blame you or my brothers and sisters if you reject me in future. You should not be bound to a freak like me, or as I will be once I am released from this sentence.”

“Nonsense, my son. You are my son, I will never reject you.” Releasing me he indicated  the chairs, studying the helmet. “Let us sit, I want to hear how you feel, how you manage …”

“Then let me sit in that chair, father.” Indicating the one he was preparing to seat himself in, I explained, “It is adapted to my … special needs.” I smiled, pointing to the odd shape of the seat. “This seat is designed to allow for those like me to sit with our balls and our, um, perineum in the gap.” I flexed my hips so he could see the fixed containment of my scrotum and the bulge behind it. “As you can see, a normal seat would be decidedly uncomfortable.” 

“I see.” He glared at the wall as I seated myself carefully, spreading my legs so as not to interfere with my huge genitals. “How do you walk with that? Do they keep you restrained with that belt?”

“It affects my gait a little, and yes, whenever I am moving about, I am kept in this belt. It is quite comfortable now I’m used to it.” I smiled to reassure him. “It was difficult at first, but now I am adjusting to it, and do not find it a hinderance. I am looking forward to the certification of my decoration and taking my place in servicing the clients. My fellow CRPs tell me that we adjust easily to being filled with men’s sperm. They say it induces a pleasant euphoria.”

“I have heard that,” he stopped, looking distressed. “My son, I know that you and your youngest brother are, and have always been man-lovers. Your mother and I have always accepted this.” He hesitated, “but this extreme … and the life of a poirnoi …”

“Father, I have considered this carefully.” I smiled. “It is useless to fight it, and to resist and nurse anger over it — and yes, the helmet doesn’t moderate that — is simply self-destructive. I would not, as a man-lover, have chosen this course for myself, but now must accept it. Perhaps I can find a way for it to help you and my family. If so, I shall tell you. For now, thank you for visiting me, and thank you for not rejecting me. I shall survive this, and will never allow it to destroy me.”

He studied me skeptically. 

“That sounds like that damned helmet speaking.” My parent stood and I rose as well. “I shall visit regularly, my son, even if I have to pay to do so.” Hugging me again, he hurried out.

A few minutes later the PM entered. “Come, CRP, time to put you on display again.” He smiled. “Your parent is supportive?”

“Yes, PM, though it distresses him to think of what I am becoming …”

To my surprise, he put an arm around my waist and hugged gently. “You’ll be alright, Poal. We shall see to it.”

The Dungeon Smith examined my living metal decorations and the penis restriction, and smiled. “He’s bonded perfectly.” Tapping my encased penis with a small hammer, he watched my lack of reaction. “There, he feels nothing and the metal responds with no resonance. I will issue his certificates and he may commence work immediately.”

“Excellent.” The PM tapped a message into his communicator. “His first client will be at the Poirnoirium when we get there.” Shaking hands with the Smith, he said, “Thank you, my friend, you are, as ever, a craftsman. When you have time, call on the House, you may have a choice of our Poirnoi!”

The walk back to the Poirnerium was once more along the crowded streets, as the PM wished to show off ‘his’ merchandise. For me it was a strange experience as I knew that on my return I could expect to be immediately given to my first client for his use and pleasure. As before, I held my head up and tried to ignore the lewd comments. Passing a shop I thought I caught a glimpse of my youngest brother, but when I looked, he was gone and the PM was eager to get me back to the poirnerium. Thanks to Tomaz I had some idea of what to expect, and somehow the helmet was already adjusting my mind and my body. I entered the House looking forward to being fed as many cocks as necessary and being fucked by as many as required it.

“Before I give you to the client, CRP, come this way and I will empty your balls.” The PM smiled. “A treat for you today, I know you have at least a week’s cum inside you. Time to relieve you of it.”

Leading me to the cellars he placed me facing a strange looking panel with heavy belts attached. 

“Insert your organ into the opening.” When I obeyed, he continued, fastening the heavy belts across my back,“I’m going to strap you to the device. That will prevent you from withdrawing, or from collapsing if you faint.”

With the belts tightened, he stepped back. “Ready? It will feel very strange, but it induces ejaculation quite rapidly.” 

He wasn’t wrong. It did feel strange, as if my entire cock was tightly encased in a vibrator. He was wrong about one thing. I’d not had my balls emptied for almost two weeks. My cock erupted. The design of the metal case on my scrotum meant my balls could not ‘lift’ as is usual, but even so, the ejaculation was incredible. The belts prevented me from falling as my legs lost all strength. My head spun as I slumped in the belts.

“That was a good cum, CRP. Very good. Okay, now It’s time to let your first client have your services.” The PM started releasing me and, my head still swimming, I withdrew my now once again numb cock and allowed him to flush the remaining cum from the small opening at its tip. “Right, bend over against the bench. I’m going to pump some lube into you.” He chuckled. “I can tell you that after the third fuck, you’ll have so much spunk inside you the lube will be irrelevant.”

Inserting a thick nozzle into my opening, he pumped the cool gel into me.

“Stand up, CRP. And turn round.” He removed the slave belt and placing my wrists behind me, locked the metal cuffs to one another. Hanging the key round my neck on a chain, he smiled. “You’re ready. Follow me, your clients are waiting and eager.

They were eager alright. There were eight of them, and no sooner had one finished fucking me than another was demanding I suck his cock. And they were creative in how they had me pleasure them, I was fucked in a sling, folded over a bench, in stocks … every possible device and position was applied and I was eventually taken to my sleeping cell, dazed, my butt leaking cum, my metal covered face smeared with it and my own penis rigid, but unrequited. And I very rapidly discovered what Tomaz had meant — a cock in my butt triggered an orgasmic response that sent me into a euphoric state. My cock root was now functioning in the same manner as a woman’s clitoris and that induced sensations I'd never dreamed a man could have … I could feel the ejaculation building, and then … nothing.

Exhausted, I slept fitfully, to be woken early, flushed out, cleaned, my balls emptied again, and then prepared for a client. This became the pattern for the passage of the days. My balls were emptied in the machine three times daily, always before breakfast, then at lunch break and finally before the evening clients arrived. By the end of the first week I was in a daze, barely aware of who I was, but now I became determined not to surrender myself totally. I soon learned that as long as I maintained a calm mindset, I could manage the frustration the stimulation and the inability to achieve release, and that allowed me to enjoy some, at least, of what I was experiencing. 

Seventeen, the other two CRPs and Tomas took care of me as far as they could, and the PM took care to make sure I was not injured. By the third week I had found my way to cope and to enjoy being fucked in all the creative ways my clients devised was succeeding. Some of the more exotic positions made the experience even more intense — and pleasant! With practice I found I could ‘detach’ my mind from what was happening to me, and began to listen to their comments and gossip. And that gave me an idea ...