Submissive Left

As there was a story called, "Dominant Right" there had to be a submissive left and here it is. It is not specifically about sex as practiced but more sex as it drives others. It is about brutal men who have made their own pact and complete it. It is about intentional deformity and, should that disturb you, don't read it. 

However if you ever wondered what Rod Serling might have done if he'd been allowed to dip his pen is perversion, warped characters and lovely gardens, this might come a bit closer-no one could possibly suggest they equaled his brilliance-to something that might have made him laugh.

I hope you'll find in it the retribution that all of us sometimes want. PJ

Tang and his Sir, the one armed former surgeon, found each other in their mutual hatred of other people. Tang from his years in prison, Sir because his loss was so deep, so personal that it changed him from a compassionate man to a cold sonofabitch who could not tolerate the world. Tang was his, had to become, his left arm, literally. He kept Tang at his side, assumed when he was needed, his arm would work in conjunction with the remaining right one. To the few who even caught glimpses of them, it was almost bizarre, they stood side by each, two heads, two bodies but only two arms.

They had also found a release in pain, the pain they could inflict on each other. One thing he could do with one arm was wield a whip. Tang submitted to being hung by both arms, when he still had them, from a post set in a surrounding of sand (like the Forums in Ancient Rome, to better catch the blood), legs spread, feet in the steel loops on the groud , while Sir lashed him until blood was coagulating on the ground and his right arm could no longer even hold the handle. Then he would stagger forward, undo his partner and take his place. Tang did precisely what he was expected to do adding the blood of Sir to his but using his left arm. When they were done, staggering, dripping, marking the place by the post as ‘used’. The scars, as they accumulated, hardened, only added to the needed ferocity to create new ones.

It was never discussed but only the back, the ass and just coincidentally some adjacent part of the shoulder was ever touched.

In the metal tank, installed for just that purpose, they sat, the salted water forging another layer of scars that ever more served as bonds between them. As the water gushed in and out they knew, when it finally sputtered out clear, that no more was to be gained, the blood had stopped flowing. Put on a shirt? Nothing had happened. Of course, to the casual visitor, the post, stained-but with what?-might have drawn questions but there were no casual visitors, none. Ever.

Sir had worked like a demon possessed to save the life of a young man damaged almost to the edge of surgical abilities in a car wreck. That he did was a testament to his abilities but to the man, now physically deformed save for his handsome face, his continuing life was only a testament to why he wanted to die. That said, he knew what he owed to Doctor/Sir and repaid it by being the person who did everything that might have required the two men to leave the house. If you drove by, you saw a fine looking home, lawns, shrubs, flower beds, perfectly attended to even if, after several weeks of passing it might be wondered who did this? When? One grocery store, where he had worked prior to the accident, was open 24 hours a day plus being the Super Store sort of place, the man, they remembered as Tommy, now only rarely addressed him he came in, did the marketing, whatever else was needed. Life for him was the torture the other two inflicted on themselves, his hatred of people stemmed from an accident which needn’t have happened. Only Sir and Tang called him Tommy, treated him as if nothing was unusual about anything from the lawn being mowed, with a quiet electric mower at midnight, to whatever else he could do from twilight until sun up. Sir converted two ports of a three car garage into a very handsome apartment for ‘our man Tommy’. There was the pool, whatever he wanted provided for him, even to occasionally coming into the house, kept dark much of the time, to have a drink with the two men. There was no conversation, well, beyond asking what might be needed, what Tommy needed, wanted, just three men being together almost as if they were in a waiting room to be seen….by….someone, something. One other thing, to distract people from seeing how bent, broken he was, Sir arranged for him to always be dressed in a way that flattered what should have been there. Combined with his terrific looks, well, Sir could only do so much but what he did, Tommy appreciated.

Harlan Pettigrew sneered as he saw his schedule; Six months to the day since he sent the infernal Tangent Wilson to the good doctor, the one, rumored, to have become a sadist, the one rumored to keep a whipping post in his garden, the one rumored to care less for life than death. Harlan Pettigrew relished his visit, wanted to see how Tangent had fared. He remembered the ‘deal’ he’d made; “If he cuts off your nuts, no more parole”. Seemed a fair trade. Harlan could see that parole lasted a long, long time, one swift chop and...no more parole. Maybe...it had already been done.

He’d read articles in the trade magazines about how chemical castration was the coming thing, make the life of Parole Officers, such as he was, easy. Bring in your new Parolee, strap them to a chair, have the medical attendant come in, push back their sleeve….let them them look at the needle, the large, full, barrel of the syringe, read to them the order of the court concerning their coming loss of ability to procreate….he would like to stop there, when this technology came to  his department, and explain that this meant the man in the chair would no longer be fertile, no longer have an erection, no sperm in their testicles. Or, he was practicing to say, “No more fucking, Ever.”

With the needle in the vein….a pause, the cruelty, the hand on the Parolee’s cock, jerking him, almost, almost, he could feel….and then the barrel emptied itself into the arm just as, for the last time, the cock emptied itself. The splatter on the floor, his last time….forever. He’d make the former man get down, lick it up, remember what made him a man.

He could hardly wait for the courts to allow it in his jurisdiction.

Quietly he’d already purchased the large syringe, kept it mounted at home in a closet. Appropriate for Harlan, he was in the closet too….just not, yet, mounted. Not. Yet. He looked at a mug shot of Tangent Wilson, the doctor would enjoy, he felt, given his suggested new reputation, watching Mr. Wilson get fucked, hard, often, might take all the time he’d allotted for the appointment. Shame he couldn’t fuck the doctor, good looking man, handsome, built, amazing what you could do for and with your  body with just one arm. He snickered when he thought about the day he cut it off, accidentally, in the garden, with a chainsaw squaring away an Arbor Vitae, live forever….but a cut off arm dies there. Perhaps he could see just where, be conciliatory to the doctor, sympathize with him, offer...well, what the fuck could he offer? He  wanted to laugh in his face,  big, strong, handsome stud, damaged goods….Pettigrew picked up his cheap coat, grabbed a straw hat and went out the door.

It was six months and he had an appointment to keep. Oh, and a syringe, filled, in his pocket. Surely the doctor, even with one arm, would easily be able to use it for an injection...even if not quite legal. Easily. Hell, a man could jack off with one arm, he’d put his left arm behind himself sitting on the can one day and bashed that sucker until cum shot against the opposite wall….good he was sitting, good it was a narrow room, good he could lean over and lick his own jizz…...He closed the door to his cubby hole office, went down the hall, down two flights-better to walk, get those calves in shape, finally into his government issued sedan; He liked it that it was a fairly long drive, remembered he’d made Wilson walk that day six months ago. How long had it taken him? Pettigrew didn’t care….it had been cool so the distance might even be seen as a walk in the park, pleasant, the last leaves still not swept up. Wilson walking, wondering, did he think about ‘the deal’ a form of ‘get out of jail’ free card….just with a payment. Did Wilson think about that as he scuffed his boots in the leaves six months earlier?

At that thought, Harlan laughed so hard he nearly pulled the wheel so violently he just missed going up on the side walk; The horns and some voices around him suggested he’d been noticed. Back on the road he patted the inside pocket of his jacket, nice hard pipe feeling thing, like a man’s hard cock but what was in his pocket was no cock, more of a cock….he started to laugh again….more of a cock teaser. Had to pull over and let the tears from his eyes clear up. Cock Teaser!!! Jesus, to be standing there holding it, what a cock teaser! He knew back when hanging was still the way to go for the condemned, they wore condoms and butt plugs so that at the end, when they squirted and shit, no clean up. He wondered if…..a man seeing his life as a man disapear in a clear liquid running into him, replacing the silver fluid no longer about to run out would squirt? Maybe he’d find out today.

Sir and Tang knew they were to expect a visitor, not a welcome one-but none were-this one must be admitted. Standing at the top of the two steps in the entrance foyer they could watch the screen showing the front of their home, showing the cheap sedan drive up, park disgorge its passenger, watch him approach the front door and...as others had been welcomed, the tip of a knife pierce the heavy wood followed by the curved blade of, Jesus, thought Harlan, an ax?

“Uh, holy shit, it’s, I mean, I have an appointment….” He paused to gain his breath hoping nothing else would cut through the wood.

“Pettigrew, parole office…..” It was all he could think to gasp out.

A voice told him to open the door, come in, stop, then stand in front of the outline on the inside of the door.

This wasn’t the way he’d planned on the appointment starting, normally, his ‘clients’ were almost on their knees, praying he’d approve, well, whatever it was they needed approving; Usually some sort of dispensation, even a shortening of sentence...with trepidation he opened the door, stepped in, looked and, oh Holy Mary of Jesus, there was a heavily outlined figure...complete with cock and balls dangling. As instructed, but not happy, he closed the door, then moved in front of the chalk figure.

The lights in his eyes were so bright, like an interrogation, he could not see who else...surely there was someone, after all, there was a voice, had to be some one….The Doctor? As with all mini tyrants he was a coward, his only thrill was in the dominion he held over the men who fell to him to administer their parole. Some, having heard his reputation, petitioned the courts for a change of administrator, one, desperate, knowing what he might do, said he’d go back to the pen, do five more...just not Pettigrew.

Apart from his panting, and the chunk as another knife blade stuck itself in the wood….real near him-he was too afraid to look, it was silent. A voice. “Yeah? You want something?”

He gulped out a sentence, “Uh, yeah, hi, I’m Harlan Pettigrew? Parole Officer? About Tangent Wilson?”

“Oh, yeah. Forgot about you.” The lights snapped off which showed a strong man, well tanned, stark naked but missing an arm. “Come on up. I got him around here somewhere, I suppose you want to see him.”

He carefully inched toward the stairs. “Sorry to inconvenience you, Doctor?, but….”

“Yeah, I know, six months, have to check things out.”

Harlan wasn’t on firm ground. Generally he called the shots, told whomever what would be done, what he wanted done and, if things weren’t to his satisfaction, what actions would be taken, none of them pleasant.

The Doctor approached him, up close he didn’t look quite so scary as his reputation. “Sorry, we got your times mixed up, I’m expecting someone to bring by their….property for some OJT. His eyes glittered as he gave Harlan a conspiratorial punch on his chest. “Know what I mean?” No, he didn’t know and wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

 He followed the man, no other choice. Almost glad to be out of that entrance hall which seemed more like where prisoners were checked into the dungeon. He shuddered, maybe they were, big enough place to have a dungeon…. And what were those marks on his back, Jesus!. almost as if he’d been whipped….on his back?

But a more appalling thought...the marks on the back of the doctor...whipped? Him? By Whom? Holy Shit, not….Tangent Wilson, if so, that cocksucker was not only off parole but headed back for a long stretch…..

They were outside, a table, some chairs. “Please, sit...I know you’re on duty so I can’t offer you….anything?”

“No, uhm, no ‘preciate the offer. Uhm, I’ll get out of your way, just need to see my boy, see that he’s doing well...you have no troubles with him...all very routine.”

Doc seemed to not notice that speech. “True you made the deal he gets off parole if he loses…?” Didn’t finish the sentence, didn’t have to. “I used to be a surgeon, even with one hand, that’s the sort of easy work I could do. Fact is, look down, I’m getting hard just at the idea of your proposition.”

Yep, he could see him, hard to not see what looked more like a missile. “I, uh, wonder if you’ve been reading any interesting articles lately, ones about how heavily supervised parole might be, uh, lessened, if the parolee was, uh….”

“Had chemicals induced into his system?” Harlan wondered if the Doctor was skirting the issue, making him bring it up, fuck, he bet there were microphones, even cameras on them.

“I believe it’s only in the trial stage….not allowed on anyone.”

“Except men in prison who would do anything for a shortened release date so they hear about an experiment….of course not many are eligible….now, just sex offenders, that sort. That’s what I read.”

“Yes, I believe so, interesting idea, as a medical person, I’m sure you’d agree.”

“If I thought it was as effective as it would need to be then, yes, I would agree, even, how can I phrase this, feel it was my duty as a physician to perform these procedures, kinda like abortion, not everyone is going to agree.” The Doctor had a harsh laugh. “Guess they don’t realize it’s better than being gelded, at least everything looks usable.”

They both looked away from each other, Sir counting the moments until this shithead tried to draw him into an advance test of the procedure. As a physician, he had found out that Pettigrew had the serum and, it took no brains to assume, the appropriate size syringe. Looking at him, at his cheap suit, he could see he should have worn a cup, his cock was almost unzipping his zipper.

Pettigrew had turned his head only to be confronted with a tall, stained post surrounded by pristine, carefully raked sand. The stains, the steel hooks hammered into the post, the places on the ground where a man would have his feet tied down….Christ, the rumors were true….he was looking at a for-real whipping post and the stains, apparently the Doctor was seeing that his parolee toed the mark, the ones in the sand where he would drag his feet as the lash was laid on him. Pettigrew had to put his briefcase over his lap.

Sir looked at him. “No need, I’m hard, turn the beast out, unzip ‘em, we know why we’re getting an erection….don’t we?”

“Uh, sir, Doctor, uh, I will, uh, admit that sometimes the idea of a man, you know...”.

“Getting his nuts cut off? That what you mean? Seeing some guy, held down, two guys, like us say, laughing, as we split his legs, tie ‘em down, grab that sack….you ever imagine how you’d like to have yours done?….that sack pulled out then, hell, have to decide on how to do it. Or...let’s say it’s us, we got our pig spread and roped, don’t need to worry about the hair, so what we have to do is decide how to do it….hey, got an idea, lets get Wilson, you wanted to see him, out here, lay him out, you can help me tie him….

“Uh, Doctor, I don’t, I mean it’s an interesting…..”

A strong hand pushed down his pants, grabbed his cock and started to work it. “That help you make up your mind? Huh? Hey...there’s something better...”

Pettigrew was lost in pleasure, this hunk of stud meat, one armed or not, jerking him, telling him what they were going to do...Fuck, see that con Wilson tied down...his nuts just staring at him, like two eyes begging him. He shot without even knowing it.

The doctor gave him a good pop on his arm, “That’s the way, think about those guys you send out….better for them if whatever you think, the deal with Wilson, get ‘em done right there in your office...think about those sons of bitches, waiting to be brought in...not knowing but then told….there was no deal, just to get them off the roles, seat ‘em, tie them down….get some doctor, hell, a Veterinarian would be good enough….twenty minutes later, you sign the papers, no more parole and no more….” He had to stop to laugh, slapped Harlan on the back. “Fuck, run ‘em over here, I’ll fuck ‘em, suck ‘em, maybe make them take me then into the pen over there, brand ‘em, steer ‘em...all nice and official...Hell, you could bring them over, why miss the fun?”

Harlan was in visual overload, his cock was stiff, well, as stiff as his cock got, looking at the place….yeah, he could see what the doc was talking about….what he always wanted…...in his haze...he knew it was what he wanted….told the doc, who laughed, said most men did think about that….Sure did….but, hey, that new serum….do the job without anything, end up same way….shame they didn’t have some of it.

The stupid ass, so involved in the almost hypnotic way the doctor was painting this sexual fantasy, forgot, pulled out the syringe… “No waiting, I got it right here…..” He kept laughing, “just stick it in, three seconds….shit, I wonder what it’d be like?”

Laughing right along, the doc yelled for his man, Tang, get his ass over here, parole officer was here….and continued to laugh. From behind Harlan two strong arms seized him as Tang, naked as the doctor, appeared.

Harlan sucked in his breath. Tang was naked, and, just like the doctor, missing an arm, his right arm...The doctor had the syringe, produced an alcohol wipe, found a vein while Pettigrew just stared at Tang….the needle slid in just as Pettigrew looked down. He tried to scream but...he couldn’t find the way.

The doctor pulled the needle out, wiped it again, looked at Harlan, grinned then reached for this cock once more. “Gonna give you one last shot….” The man had almost nothing, only a little dribble...”Okay, you’re good to go, I’ll sign one of the forms stating your Vasectomy was complete, thirty days from today, you’ll be sterile...actually by Saturday but...”

Tang, whom he’d forgotten, came up to him. Turned side ways, showed him where his right arm had been. “Guess that takes me off parole...know it’s not the bargain you made but, well, Sir here, he figured it’d be enough. Gave up my arm...”

Pettigrew sat this, his dong so limp, Jesus, he doubted he could take a leak. Two arms held him back against the seat.

“Thank you, Tommy, now, you know the drill, let you pick the color of cord.” He turned to look at Harlan. “I know you came to see Tang, my left arm, loose ‘em but I think that’s off the table. Fact is...Tang, get hot and get up….I wouldn’t have him any other way. Watch.”

Sir got on his knees and hand, good old doggie style, while Wilson slowly rubbed his nicely shaped dick into a pole driver...facing an already made hole.

“See, here’s what’s good about being sterile, chemically castrated, you can still take it in the ass, feels just the same only when they hit the prostate, nothing. You can remember what it felt like but now, tough, you’re a eunuch. So….Harlan, still want to see my man here loose ‘em? Or, hell, since yours are no good to you…..Tommy, make sure he’s tied down then rip the rest of his clothes off….why not play like you were down there, on the ground, in line waiting for your brand then get gelded. Cuz….” Doc started to laugh, threw his one good arm around Tang “….you already have been, just left the left overs hanging around, don’t serve any purpose, think how much cheaper to buy women’s panties...course, have to take your rod…

Harlan Pettigrew stumbled down the path past the perfectly manicured bushes, lovely flowers, manicured lawn. He didn’t notice. His cheap suit was on him but barely, no shirt, that was tied in a bundle along with his socks and boxers. He leaned against his car still not quite believing, still on the event horizon of acceptance….In his mind was the thought….it was only a test, probably didn’t work, his ‘source’ said not to plan on much….He felt better. Got in his government issued car and pulled away headed for his office where he would officially close the file on Tangent Wilson, it was that or go back there again.

Right and Left arms watched as a determinded, good looking man in scrubs came in through the back gate. Tommy handed him a cooled drink, he smiled his gratitude. Sat down, leaned back let the sun start a bead of sweat while he quietly removed his clothing.

“Good days work, Sir, a good day?”

He almost smiled. “Yes, very successful. We’ll, the three of us, always be grateful to you for all the kindnesses.”

“It was my privilege. One thing, let me look at the wound site on Tang….healing up nicely?”

“You did a superior job, Doctor, even watching you I knew it would be perfect. Learned a lot in prison I’d say, more men should put their time there to some usage. Even as you did….prison hospital….I was pleased to have you come here for your parole.”

“Pettigrew get what he didn’t come for?”

“I will always deeply regret the necessity to advance your parole date by the only method offered.”

“Well, I knew what it would be, what the cost was, I believe I can say, given today, it was worth it.”

“Did you get it all in him?”

Tommy held up the empty syringe.

He continued undressing. “Wonder if he even remembered me, the deal he made? Did he even ask?”

“No, when he left he seemed…..diverted, something about needing to see his source, some questions….”

He had finished, sat there with the other naked men, like them, all missing something, all thinking about Harlan Pettigrew who was also missing something but he had yet to find it out…..just as he would never again find his ‘source’.

The quiet sadism of the four men caused a vicious smile. They knew what they’d given up but Harlan? His torture was just beginning as he wondered but was to ashamed to try and find out.

The warm sun felt good, blessing the men who lay back and gave their bodies to it. The sun, the doctor to all….left and right, Tommy and the Doctor appreciated it, felt the strength of heat fill them, almost as if it was giving back what had been taken away.

Right wondered, even at this distance, if they would hear a scream someday, a sound that only Harlan could make. But really, he didn’t care, none of them did.