PasturedAblutions completed, the morning enema seeming longer, higher and deeper than ever, I join the herd. It’s pasture time and once again I am saddened not to be under Miss Beth’s auspices. I console myself it is only for a few hours. But the day’s handler is a harridan named Miss Margie and she’s known to be not only a taskmaster but somewhat sinister in presiding over the naked and bound male.
“Okay my mentally meek and physically potent subjugants... I want to see those erections bobbing about... balls flopping. Now move! Some new clients have arrived... they need a nice show of virility and humbleness.”
The command comes as we donors assemble outside the dorm. The hounds begin barking, snarling in nipping at various heels. As a group we begin to prance. Since it’s been some five
