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Laura Davidson, Keeper of Men

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Laura Davidson - Keeper of Men by Chris Bellows

She is calloused, aloof, with notable disdain for the male, deriving unbridled glee in the debasement of the entire gender... What does a woman with such traits do to earn a living? She serves as warden for the infamous Lockwood Penitentiary, the Federal penal system's final destination for recalcitrant inmates who cannot be reformed. Her new inductee, John Dullsworth Tubbs, may be a tough and dangerous criminal, but he has no idea the methods this imperious female warden will use to ensure his 'willing cooperation'.

Laura Davidson's managerial methods are unparalleled and violate every standard of care mandated by Bureau of Prison regulations. But laudable results carry great weight and, in being willing to take charge of those who remain violent, great latitude is afforded. Thus, no questions are asked when the purchase of prison uniforms is declined and instead unusual items are regularly procured to facilitate Laura Davidson's techniques. Yes, the highly acclaimed Warden is left to her own devices in keeping society safe, incarcerating brutal, belligerent and contemptuous men without incident.

Bondage, chastity, thorough Feminine control, forced bisexuality, unending humiliation and finally... the making of 'the election'... consent to which no man willingly gives but all at Lockwood eventually offer... all combine to make Laura Davidson successful as a Keeper of Men.

Readers should be forewarned, the demented Chris Bellows steps over many boundaries of D/s interaction in this unique tale. Not to be read by the homophobic male. You will cringe.

For the female reader... enjoy!


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Warden Laura Davidson always arises early after a long evening of steamy sex. Her satiated quim requires tendance.
It had been a typical seemingly endless carnal tryst. She smiles with the realization that at age 35, husband Jim can still go the distance, bringing her to a number of mild orgasms; until, in the throes of passion, she forcibly rolled from the prosaic missionary position to ride impaled upon hot male stiffness. It was there, saddled like an equestrienne, where she took more control, firmly pinching various sentient pink parts and reveling in the bucking reaction of her truckling husband, Jim. The resulting spasmodic motion finally began deep vaginal oscillations followed by a throaty gasp and a flood of juices; as, with one massive contraction, a concluding orgasm brought both physical collapse and ultimate ecstasy. A well trained Jim knew to let his spunk explode when he felt the tight, wet, warm glove of wife Laura’s love pouch squeeze with zeal, obediently timing his climax in order to best please... not daring to offer his own ejaculatory response until his wife was thoroughly gratified.
Laura then slumped forward in the glow; her head resting on the chest of her well ridden husband, taking slow and deep breaths; her tangible pleasure heightened in knowing that across the room, peering in frustrated silence, was the human form which so much spurred her passion. As with every evening of making love, knowing that a male beast, kept chaste and denied all equivalent delectation, watched the unbridled passion and pined for climactic release long withheld, caused Laura’s mental euphoria to match the physical.
Husband Jim has learned to accept the odd situation. After all, no one other than a few of the prison staff knows of the peculiar arrangement. The prison living quarters are secluded and obviously secure. No outsider will ever learn of the form’s presence. Therefore, Jim has learned to mentally shrug off the existence of the well restrained being. As far as he is concerned, if the presence of the peering form brings joy to Laura, then it brings joy to him. Over the many months, it has become akin to making love while the family dog observes with curiosity.
Awaking refreshed, Laura glides from the bed in complete nakedness and tiptoes in the semi darkness. The form now sleeps, somehow finding somnolence while wrists and neck are bound in a customized Martin Rigid Stock. Hung from sturdy chains, the lengthy steel entrapment allows him to maintain a kneeling position but not to lie down. Thus, he more or less hangs upright, knees barely touching the tiled flooring, encased wrists held well out to the sides and at the level of his shoulders, the taut chains keeping his face at the level of Laura’s waist.
“Wake up!”
Laura draws back her right hand and swings viciously. A crisp smack stings the form’s left cheek. The sound of the single brief retort brings stirring from husband Jim, but he merely rolls; his sleep resuming as the form awakens. The thumb and index finger of Laura’s left hand find a nipple clamp. With a squeeze and a twist, consciousness rapidly returns to the form. He moans in surprised agony.
“I have something for you,” Laura leans to hiss in his ear.
And once again the utility of the customized stock is demonstrated.
Laura’s left foot is lifted over the segment of steel lying on the form’s right shoulder as she holds one taut chain for balance. The right foot follows over the left shoulder, and Laura’s thighs and buttocks come to rest on the special metal plateau forming a small seat under the form’s ears and chin. She finds herself sitting on the broad, smooth stainless steel that encapsulates the form’s wrists and neck. The graceful and practiced maneuver reminds her of mounting a swing when she was a little girl. And indeed she sits grasping the vertical chains for balance with the form’s face within centimeters of her dripping mons. Her hips wriggle, and she slides her buttocks forward to establish even more proximity.
The waking form, rudely conveyed from more of a comatose state of exhaustion rather than sleep, finds that warm, pungent and slimy labia was enveloping his mouth and lips.
“Work that tongue! Jim spent especially deeply tonight.”
The demanded wet appendage, stretched and specially strengthened, thrusts forth. The form must gather what he so longingly watched being expended, the remnants of a long carnal embrace. An arduous cleansing task begins. It is degrading work, but the form realizes it is the only reason he continues to live. Thus, he has learned to relish the endeavor as much as he relishes being permitted his next breath of air. To orally serve is to exist.

Artist Credit

YPVS www.renderotica.com

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