Dexter Chronicles

Writer's Note: Well, we can't just keep eavesdropping on Eric all night; that wouldn't be polite. Anyway, there seems to be a bit of a problem back at the Dexter Estate. Aren't you glad Claire Winslow is there to keep an eye on things? Hmmm?

The Sue Dexter Chronicles —Chapter Twelve

***

On the south wall in Sue's bedroom, the bright light flashed again and a steady beep emanated from the surveillance system. A lone figure had broken a pane of glass in the kitchen door and unlocked it.

"Ladies," Claire said, "we have a white male intruder in the kitchen. Out the Library to the hallway, then right, keep going until you get to the 'T,' then turn to your left, the kitchen door is the fourth door on the left. He's still in there."

Tabatha packed her princk back in her harness and she, Marlie, and Annie were on their way to the kitchen leaving Brenda with the two cuffed men.

***

Claire watched the intruder moving around the kitchen, checking the refrigerator, the cabinets, and then slowly making his way, almost casually, towards the hallway where three highly trained FemTech Security personnel were waiting.

"He looks like a common burglar ... young, in his teens, I think. Slender, alone, wearing what looks like dark leather pants and vest, no visible weapons. He's on the other side of the door and immediately to the left, about six feet off," Claire relayed to the women.

Tabatha burst through the door and snaked to the left. The youth immediately began to turn to run, and turning was the only defense he had. Within seconds, Tabatha had her right arm wrapped around his throat and began applying a suffocating chokehold. Quickly, the boy collapsed in Tabatha's arms and slithered along the length of her lean, muscled body to the floor. "Wow, that was kind of sweet. How about this one?" Tabatha said to Annie pointing to her new captive, "Will Brenda say he's okay or do I have to let him go, too!"

"Tabatha," said Annie, "you and Marlie can do whatever you want with Mr. Broken Wrist and Leatherboy as long as you clean up after yourselves."

Tabatha and Marlie smiled at each other.

Claire added through her microphone, "Oh, Marlie, Tabatha, there's a large, large shower room, massage tables, etc., in Sue Dexter's basement work-out facility. Out the kitchen and third door on your left, down the stars and then second right. Looks good in the schematics."

"Tabatha looked up at the ceiling in the direction of Sue's bedroom, "Claire, you're a doll. Always thinking. Thank you."

***

Brenda had her right foot on the side of Henry Dexter's head when Marlie and Annie came back in the room. Marlie bent over the man with the broken wrist, who was moaning. "What's your name?" demanded Marlie.

"Elliot Woods," he whimpered. "Please help me. I've got to get to a hospital ... my hand ... I think it's broken."

"Oh, it's broken; Tabatha broke it," noted Marlie. "But, actually, it's your wrist that's shattered, not your hand. Nasty little swelling you've got there," she added noting that his wrist has swollen tight to the metal of the cuffs.

"Tell me, Elliot," asked Marlie, "didn't your parents ever tell you not to play with guns?"

"Please, help me."

"Honey," said Marlie moving in close to Elliot, "I will definitely give you something to distract you from the pain in your wrist. Come, get up and I'll take you to the clinic. We'll play with Tabatha and Leatherboy." Elliot looked confused.

"That's okay, you don't need to know. Follow me."

Elliot seemed encouraged to be going to a "clinic," and worked hard to get to his shackled feet and walked in little baby steps down the hall following Marlie like a duckling over to the basement stairway.

"Okay, guy," said Marlie pointing down the flight of stairs, "you can do it. Just hop from step to step and be careful."

"Please, please take off the leg irons."

"Elliot, you were going to try to kill someone in this house; maybe me. And you want me to try to keep you from bruising yourself? Get real. Either you hop on down or I push you down. Either way, you're going down. Your choice, kiddo."

Elliot started hopping down, step-by-step, picking up unwanted speed, and found himself unable to prevent himself from leaping the last four steps at one time, crumpling to the basement floor, screaming as his wrist slammed into the hard, expensive Portuguese tile.

"Oh, god. Oh, god! Ooww! Oh shit, oh shit!!! My hand!"

"Get up, asshole. We're almost there. And it's not your hand; it's your wrist. But don't worry, I'll be giving you lessons about your anatomy real soon."

***

Meanwhile, back in the Library, while Annie went to her van to pick up some FemTech binding equipment, Brenda and Henry (with the left side of his face mashed firmly into the library carpet) were having a little chat.

"Henry, you're a lucky man. Intruder number three just saved your life. Tabatha had you in her sights. You're alive because ... well, because, your ex-wife told us to keep you breathing until she came home from her FemTech weekend workshop. Tabs usually always gets her man; this was a rare exception."

"Pleaths, pleaths, s'let me goo," begged Henry with his mouth crushed into the thick oriental carpet.

"Sorry, Mr. Dexter. Can't do that. I mean you came here to see your son. You came here with armed force, your companion, Elliot, had a weapon and, well, you've already given up your freedom ... forever."

"Pleaths. I'll giff you lotths of money. Pleath!"

"Sorry, Mr. D., not interested."

Henry Dexter began crying as Annie entered the room with a small adult binding brace.

"Listen, Brenda," said Annie, "I've got a hot date waiting for me at home tonight. Let's get going and get this little princk-sucker ready for Claire's velvet touch." Brenda removed her foot from the side of Henry's face.

"What's ... what's going to happen to me?" asked Henry, his voice quaking.

Annie and Brenda ignored him and set up the binding rack to accept a new resident.

"Oh, god. Please let me go," begged Henry who had struggled to his knees and was trying to get to his feet.

Brenda turned and, barely looking, struck Henry hard on the left side his face with the back of her left hand. Henry involuntarily tried to block the blow with his arms, but they were cuffed behind him. Brenda was big ... and strong ... very strong.

"Damn, I hate whiners," she muttered to Annie as they finished setting up the rack.

Henry stayed down and tried to shake the stars out of his head and the blood out of his mouth. When he eventually came around, he asked, "What's going to happen to me?" as politely as he could muster.

"Were going to take you to see Claire and your son, Robert. Won't that be nice?" said Annie.

"Oh, please don't let my son see me like this. I'm ... I'm a mess."

"Mr. Dexter," said Brenda very seriously, "He won't see you as you are now. We'll take care of that."

"Oh, thank you, thank you."

Brenda and Annie looked at each other and shook their heads.

"Dexter," said Brenda, "when Robert sees you, you won't have to worry about your bloody wrinkled clothes embarrassing you because you'll be naked. And you won't have to worry about the pain in your mouth, because you'll be hurting all over from the straps stretching you and biting into your flesh in the rack. And you won't have to worry about looking out of place, because Robert will be in his own min-rack, himself. And if I were you, I'd be extra obedient from this moment forward because I already think you're a ex-rich spoiled asshole, and how we feel about you will determine how strictly we bind you in the rack. Do you understand?"

"I ... I think so," said Henry, as he began to realize the immediate gravity of his situation.

***

By the time Marlie and Elliot Woods entered Sue's basement gymnasium, Tabatha and Leatherboy were having a discussion. Actually, only Tabatha was talking.

"Now, just stay there and build up your strength, honey. Tabby baby is just going to adjust the posts so they will be comfortable for us. I do want us to be comfortable. Don't you?" Tabatha unclenched her fist and pulled her short black leather glove from her right hand. A large red, then yellowish-blue bruise began to form on the left side of the young thief's face.

The "posts" were four large stainless steel tubular rods exactly four inches in diameter, each five feet high and forming the corners of an imaginary six foot by six foot square. Each post, with its gently rounded top had numerous smooth indentations housing imbedded rings and snaps. Each sturdy post was separately pneumatically powered and could be raised or lowered by its user. These devices, of which Sue Dexter had two sets, were very popular in FemTech Field Offices and high-end princk oriented health clubs.

Tabatha walked around the unconscious Leatherboy as he lay on his back and began to fasten straps and collars to his various body parts. She then lowered all of the posts until they retracted into the floor so that a length of only two feet was left exposed. Humming quietly to herself, Tabatha attached Leatherboy's left thigh tether to a convenient fastening devices on the post nearest his left foot and repeated that operation on his right thigh tether at the same height on the post nearest his right foot. She then clipped his left biceps tether to the post nearest his left hand, repeated the action on his right biceps on the remaining post, and stood back admiring her work. "Damn, I'm good," she commented to the still unconscious boy.

The fingers of Tabatha's left hand flickered across the panel of the hand-held post controls and the posts to which the youth's thighs were tethered began to rise while the fingers of her right hand gently stroked the base of her own steadily thickening and rising post. The strain on Leatherboy's young slender frame eased him to semi-consciousness and pain.

"What ... what's happening?" said Leatherboy, as he watched his legs and lower torso slowly but inexorably rise from the floor. Tabatha said nothing as the semi-elastic tethers hoisted Leatherboy and his thighs to a height slightly higher than Tabatha's pelvis.

"Flick, flick," went Tabatha's fingers on the post controls. "Flick, flick,..." went Tabatha's fingers on herself.

The front posts rose two feet, and Leatherboy was hung, head-end down like a deerskin about to be stretched and tanned.

Tabatha walked around her new pet and using the sturdy posts as leverage, pulled each tether strap until Leatherboy was, indeed, stretched tight. As the last tether was drawn, Leatherboy winced and cried out as the pain of his condition bumped into his now fully conscious state.

***

"Hi, Tabs," said Marlie as she entered the large, well-lit gymnasium with Mr. Woods walking ... limping ... little-step-by-little-step behind her. "Look's like Leatherboy's mom stopped breastfeeding him too soon; he's a skinny little runt, isn't he? Huh, Tabs? Tabs?"

But Tabatha's mind and body were otherwise occupied.

Tabatha had unleashed her penis and was rubbing and pressing the stiff length of it and her exposed vagina against Leatherboy leaving a delicate sheen of delicious vaginal juices on his legs, face and arms. Pausing and panting, Tabatha reached into her FemTech hip-pouch and fumbling, withdrew a handful of colorful Irises, one of the standard quick-entry devices used for oral penetration.

"Yes, yes," Tabatha murmured to herself. "Yes, yes; orange looks like the right size."

Tabatha walked around the posts and crouched down a bit so that she had an inner thigh bracing each side of the top of Leatherboy's head. Looking down and holding the little, finely engineered device in her left hand, Tabatha's princk bobbed menacingly over his face. "Leather, honey. I'm going to put this little spreader in your mouth ... open wide."

"What are you going to do?"

"Wrong response, asshole," hummed Tabatha, as she slid her thighs forward a few inches and began to squeeze them together against the sides of his unprotected head. She set the Iris down on the slant of his scrawny chest, grabbed one of his nipples in each of her hands..., pulled..., and twisted. His mouth flew open and an eerie howl flew out into the room. Tabatha panted a bit heavier.

She released her grip on his nipples and, stretching her legs and arching to her toes, increased the pressure building on his reddening head and arm joints until her thighs began to vibrate from the pressure. His mouth was wide open in a silent scream. Tabatha reached for the Iris and turned it over in her hands, momentarily admiring its design and simple beauty. She then tossed it in the air, caught it and placed it in his mouth so that his row of upper front teeth fit securely within the groove created by the silicone/neoprene covered titanium valley on the outer surface of its oval shape.

Sighing, "Patience, patience," she pushed her princk to one side and placed the heel of her right hand on the depression immediately above his lower jaw and pressed down ... hard. As his mouth spread open, Tabatha wedged the bottom of the Iris so that his row of lower teeth slipped firmly with into the tight inescapable silicone/neoprene channel of FemTech's Model Orange Iris 07471. There were two small, but easily accessible knobbed wheels on each side of the Iris, and the more they were turned clockwise the more open and rounder the Iris opening became ... stretching the male's jaws wider ... and ... wider ... and ... wider. Tabatha relaxed the pressure on Leatherboy's head, let her heels find the firmness of the floor, bent her knees a bit and began to turn the wheels clockwise, slowly ... but ... steadily.

Tabatha cocked her head and held her breath to listen for the sound ... yes ... the subtle sound of a man's jaw dislocating. Even above Leatherboy's feeble attempts at moaning and crying, ... yes ... soon ... it... will ... happen.

There!

It was ... a ... sort of dull muffled snap. A quiet suction pop, perhaps. And turning the wheels became a bit ... easier. Leatherboy's eyes rolled into the back of his head and his breathing became jagged and brittle. Inside his mouth, his tongue rolled around trying desperately to orient itself. Soon ... too soon, it would have something to orient itself against.

There ... his mouth was just right. Not too loose and not too tight, and inside, still wet and slick. But first, there was the little matter of his rectum.

Tabatha backed away from his face and strolled around to her other favorite cavity. Her princk had been freed by this time and was pointing toward the far corner of the ceiling of Sue Dexter's gymnasium. As she walked, her princk moved like a raptor sizing up its hopeless prey. She placed herself between Leatherboy's tightly stretched legs and began to rub her princk against Leatherboy's skinny, shrunken manhood (boyhood?), covering it with the silky lubricant that exuded from her magnificent lengthening appendage. Then, slightly bending over and shifting her posture she brought the head of her hungry erect womanhood to the opening of his rectal cavity. Tabatha was whispering to herself, almost singing — "Do you want to go in, my little friend? Huh. Do you want to feel the heat? Yes, the heat?"

She began to rub her princk between his ass cheeks. Leatherboy began to strain and futilely try to pull away. Tabatha began to pet and caress her princk. "Yes, my little friend. I know. I know. Of course you can. Do ... (center and push)... go ... (brace the legs and push again) ... right ... (grab his hips and thrust) ... in!!"

The huge swollen head of her penis rudely entered him, tearing him badly and a small trickle of bright reddish-purple blood ran down her shaft to her pelvis, thigh, down her legs, onto one of her ankles, then slicking the floor. The princk fluids would eventually stop the bleeding, and reduce the pain a bit, but that would be then, and now was searing agony for the unfortunate little thief. Leatherboy's arms and legs, to the extent they could, flailed wildly as Tabatha's hips relentlessly pinioned into his guts, causing more damage ... potentially fatal had he not later died of other (natural?) causes. Her internal hormonal units began their biological imperative and the intoxicating sensation of precum and then the lovely princkcum began to pump, pump, pump through her inner piping (oh, oh, yes!!) into his intestinal tubing, at least what was left of it.

Tabatha was pumping back and forth into him, thrusting powerfully, trying to go all the way through him with her princk and exit his mouth. Could she actually split a man? Yes. She believed she could. Yes. Burrowing all the way through, so that half of him hung from the posts to her right, the other half on the left posts, and perhaps some of him left hanging ... dripping ... from her powerful hard princk! And Tabatha standing gloriously with her princk stiff and proud and her sweating, muscular feminine body glistening with the blood of another inferior male.

While she hammered away at Leatherboy, she thought of her brother, her fucking brother, Nelson. He had touched her in bad ways when she was young, much younger. Now she wanted to touch him. Nelson had run away or had been taken from home by male rescuers before he could be banded. She swore she would find him, and she would, but this male would have to do for now, and in her mind she tore both of them in half and then collapsed in ecstatic rage on Leatherboy's weak body. As she recovered from her satisfying orgasm, princkcum oozed to the floor from the failed torn seal between her penis and his badly damaged rectal tissues.

Leatherboy hung from the posts with Tabatha breathing heavily, resting ... panting on top of him ... and in him. The straps on his thighs and biceps stretched him particularly cruelly because of Tabatha lovely added weight, and his screams through the FemTech Model Orange Iris 07471 sounded strange and hollow as they echoed around the room. During all this time the bank of video cameras saved the action as entertainment for Sue Dexter's future "Get Acquainted with FemTech" parties.

***

The sounds (screams) from Tabatha's sacrificial lamb distracted Marlie for a moment from what she was doing to her close — intimately close at that moment — friend, Elliot Woods. However, such distraction was only momentary; Marlie was deep into her work with Elliot. After enlightening Elliot that there really wasn't a "clinic" in Sue Dexter's basement, she began to give him a clinic in princk domination ... oral domination.

Elliot was considerably larger than Leatherboy, and Marlie had selected a blue Iris, FemTech Model Blue Iris 07477. Elliot had of course resisted and Marlie, always practical, simply beat him with booted kicks to his head and body until he lay still, whimpering and a bit swollen.

"Okay, Elliot. Thank you for that little workout," puffed Marlie. "Now open wide, sweetie."

With a practiced hand, Marlie easily trapped his upper teeth within the channel of the outer rim of the Iris, and then cupping his lower jaw in the crook of the span between the thumb and index finger of her right hand, she fiercely thrust his lower jaw down, and the Iris snapped neatly in place on his lower teeth. As she turned the small knobs clockwise ... stopping from time to time to let her fingers feel the joints of his jaws straining under the expanding Iris, both Elliot's jaws and his eyes widened ... until his jaw bones were, by her practiced fingers, on the cusp of dislocating.

She stopped, and ever so slightly backed off the knobs and admired her work. Elliot was panting rapidly, his eyes darting around and filled with fear. Small whimpering sounds came out of the temporarily hollow space in his mouth.

"There, there ... don't be so afraid. It's going to be over soon. Are you a good swimmer, Elliot? Can you hold your breath for a long time? Well, we'll see, won't we."

Marlie took a small nylon noose out of her hip pack and slipped it around Elliot's strong neck, drew it snug and fastened the lead end of it to a ring embedded in the tiled floor. She then stepped back and placed her hip pack on a table, slipped off her loose fitting black slacks and tight black blouse. She stood there wearing her small black boots, out of which shapely (but finely muscled) bare legs rose. Her pulsing princk was still held in place (barely) by her thigh harness that formed a part of her black silk princkpanties, and her round breasts were nicely nestled in a see-through filigree bra.

She looked over at Tabatha, and then smiled to herself. "Damn, it's nice to love your work. Do you love your work, Elliot?"

Marlie slipped her growing womanhood out of its pen and took her hands out of its way. It didn't need any help. Although almost impossible, Mr. Woods' eyes grew even larger and he started to back away as she knew he would. Crawling backwards away from her, he scuttled his knees as fast as he could, while she steadily, slowly followed him.

Then, of course, the noose ... the simple gaily-colored blue and yellow nylon braided loop around his strong neck and vulnerable throat began to prevent any further retreat. But Marlie continued her slow leisurely advance ... one foot on each side of the nylon strap ... until she stood before him ... then placed her right boot over the nylon lead so that it ran beneath the arch created by the low heel of her right boot ... and slid her right foot toward him drawing his face closer to the floor. He tried to snap the nylon strap, jerking his head back and forth ... pulling the noose ever tighter ... making his face begin to glow ... red ... and sweaty and ... swollen.

Marlie had tried restraint, but her hands had unconsciously found their way to her own red and swollen extremity, and it drooled and pumped precum about the room. Marlie had been right, of course, the man had completely forgotten about his aching wrist and all Marlie could think about was his gaping mouth. As his frantic and futile attempts at escape tightened the noose, it took away a great deal of his air and strength ... and he looked up at her, frightened and exhausted.

Bending at her waist and knees, gripping and lifting his head with both hands by his thick hair, and dipping herself forward a bit, she bobbed her princkhead down toward his mouth and pressed it to the threshold of the soft, smooth surfaced Iris. Shifting her grip ... and her hips ... she gently hunched forward until the head, just the very head of her penis wedged itself past the Iris and into Elliot's mouth. Marlie gasped at the sensation and her right hand shifted and coarsely grabbed the long brown hair on the back of Elliot's large round head and pulled ... hard. Her penis was so, so lubricated and slick and there was no problem sliding Elliot's face over it ... to ... just ... the ... desired ... location. A location which would maximize the flooding of his lungs with princkcum. She shuddered at the thought.

"Yes," she thought to herself, "Yes, there goes his jaw," as her sensitive princk shaft felt the shifting in his face. Elliot renewed his efforts to escape the pain, but it was too little, much too little and much too late. Only a decision not to go to Sue Dexter's residence could have saved him.

Now she was flying ... her penis thrusting in and out, but always coming back ... for an instant or two ... to the same location. Her balls were churning and sending a delicious sensation of cum swirling throughout her nerve-laden tubes and canals. As her cum exploded into Elliot, it was Marlie's eyes rolling up in the back of her head. The seal of the Iris hugging her thick princk was, as always, effective, and the princkcum had few ways to escape from Elliot's body. But there were ways.

Marlie had to work fast, and she loved the race. She held her princk still for a moment in just the right location. Oh, it felt so good.

He tried to pull away and she could feel his noose-tightened throat squeeze her princk. "Damn, Elliot. Yes, that is soooo good."

And the sound. If you listened closely and knew what to expect, you could hear the heavily oxygen-rich princkcum begin to seep ... no, ... flow ... into Elliot's lungs. It was a sort of a low, low swooshing sound. "Whoosh, Swoosh."

Marlie was out of control. "Ahhhhhhh!" Her thrusts were less rhythmical and longer, deeper and more powerful, if that were possible. And Elliot's lungs were filling up. There was only one way out. Yes! As she hunched forward the princkcum began to ooze, then squirt, then rush out with each pistoning plunge ... and retract up into his nostrils with each withdrawing stroke.

Elliot was sill barely alive, with his lungs drawing what oxygen they could from her princkcum. And his eyes begged for pity, but she was not moved. Actually, she didn't even notice his eyes ... just the princkcum pulsing, flowing, gushing from his face. She liked to think of it as "cleansing him" of his maleness ... fully having her way with him, replacing his life force with hers, 'til death do they part.

Her realization of his final death shudders drove her into an orgasmic frenzy. "Ohhh! Ahhh! Ohhh, damn! Ahhh!"

A red tinge began to mingle with her princkcum as his blood-rich lung tissue collapsed in exhaustion, and she collapsed to the floor with a triumphant scream, crumpled in pleasure, panting heavily. As she rolled to her back, his head followed, with her princk still deep down his throat and his lifeless head, now helplessly pierced by her thick womanhood, bobbing like some bizarre oozing totem.

***

Leatherboy's throat was also engaged.

After catching her breath, Tabatha had slowly stepped back and removed her weapon ... pulling it leisurely from the young man's unwilling, but very accommodating, rectum. Now, with an easy grace, she stepped around the posts and the youth, ... and ignoring his pitiful begging sounds, pressed her penis to the entrance of his face ... and pushed her rectum-soiled princk in. Quickly, very quickly, a second orgasmic rush was upon her and the foul flavor of her cum thrust him, almost mercifully, into a swooning state of princkcum shock. As more and more of her juices pumped into him, he began to lose the ability to gulp quickly enough, to catch his breath or avoid gagging on her sexual discharges. Spots began to swirl before him, then a searing pain cut into him, then involuntary convulsions and then ... darkness. There is a final passage of energy from a male subordinate to his princkmistress. And it was not coincidence that as he perished, her head was thrown back in ecstasy and bright lights and stars exploded throughout out her writhing, celebrating body. It was a gift from him, although not freely given.

She actually had almost liked him ... as a house pet ... a princk-warmer. And if her personality was one of restraint he might have lived to serve her again. Instead, her princkcum surged into his face only once. And as she eventually pulled out, to begin with Marlie to clean up in the gymnasium, his head flopped back and to the side as coagulating princkfluids dribbled from his mouth and nose to the tile floor.

"Damn, that was good," said Tabatha as she staggered a bit in the aftermath of her sexual explosions. Damn good."

•••

As for Henry Dexter, he was about to speak to Claire Winslow in person.

_{The Sue Dexter Chronicles — End of Chapter Twelve}

ã 2003 MystyMason

Any comments welcomed. Contact Mysty at mystymason172@hotmail.com