Wednesday, August 20, 2014

The Sash - Balls


Copyright 2014

by Chris Bellows

“Bring me the ball marked number one, Markie. In your mouth... no hands.”

The so termed toy box is filled with a plethora of rubber objects, phallic implements of bizarre shape... some frighteningly large... and indeed foam rubber balls of varying size. The demanded ball, numbered as clearly as a billiard ball, is the smallest, some one inch in diameter.

Markie bends his neck, lowering his face to retrieve the number one ball. Though of foam rubber, he notes the firmness as his lips open and his teeth grasp.

“Bring it here, hurry. Crawl quickly... come, come.”

Markie obeys, Nurse Benson’s stentorian words backed by instant punishment for disobedience. He turns, knees parted as commanded, legs shuffling rapidly, He feels his tiny penis flop about, the folds of his empty sac rolling to abrade his inner thighs.

Markie notes the waiting hand, palm upwards.

“Lick it well, the more moist it is the easier it will be for you,” Nurse Benson’s fingers wriggling in welcome.

Markie quickly rolls about his tongue to apply more moisture then humbly plops it from his mouth into the waiting palm.

“Turn, forehead to the floor, back arched, buttocks high, spread for me like a good girl.” 

There comes no doubt as to where Markie will bear the sphere, Nurse Benson’s left hand firmly gripping the empty scrotal sac for leverage as he complies with precision... indeed spreading like a good girl.

Yes, the wet foam is pressed to his anus, his sphincter easily yielding as the knowing nurse presses inward with steady force. How many has the woman so dextrously impaled?

“Now, twice about the room, crawl keeping your knees parted for me. Show off those girly cheeks. Then bring me ball number two.” 

With the words Markie feels a brisance of delight, the foam sphere, compressed while stuffed past his purse string muscle, expanding to knead his neglected prostate. The nurse notes his reaction, his pause of faint pleasure. She laughs.

“Yes, we know all about the anal propensity of castrated boys, Markie... know very well how much you will come to crave attention there. And you shall have it.

“Now... crawl about... show off for me... then get ball two... quickly.”  

Twice about the room, when Markie returns to the toy box, he again lowers his face, his nose rummaging through the many implements to find ball number two. It is larger... by some quarter of an inch. Then he notes balls three and four... each larger than the next... the diameter growing with the digits. And there are more! Ball ten is imposing!

He feels his emaciated penis begin to firm. The physical pressure of the inserted ball? Thoughts of being stuffed by a larger and larger ball?

“Bring it to me. Do not dawdle!”

Lips part, teeth grip, Markie’s tongue knows to moisten as parted knees rapidly shuffle across the room.

“Now, place ball number one into this bowl, Markie. No hands. Make like you’re having a bowel movement,” a white shoe sliding forth a large bowl.

“Forehead to the floor... be a good girl for me.”

The humiliation intensifies as Markie must perform what is otherwise a most intimate anatomical act. He positions himself then both presses with his stomach muscles and purses his anus, working to expel ball number one, tongue moistening ball number two.

“How do you feel performing for me like this Markie? The humiliation is sublime wouldn’t you agree? And I know we’re awakening that prostate gland... neglected and unused.”

With the stultifying words, the nurse lowers her hand and toys with right nipple then left, the estrogen bringing incredible sensitivity of late. Goose bumps of delight form as ball number one slowly slides forth and softly plunks into the waiting bowl.

“Good girl. Now you can have ball number two,” the right hand opening to accept the wet sphere.

Strangely, reluctance begins to dissipate. Markie further spreads not in capitulation... but in welcome. Nurse Benson laughs, recognizing the desperate need to sense the sole remaining male pleasure... prostate manipulation.

Yes, the penis firms more as the fingers of the right hand press to offer a final thrust, the inserted ball slowly expanding within to bring a sigh not to be hushed.

“Now twice about the room, naked girly boy. Then you can select any ball you want to replace ball number two,” Markie pausing, allowing his psyche to soak up the evanescent joy.

The well experienced nurse knows it will not be ball number three chosen next. No, they all go to the larger size... quickly... anal proclivity awakened...  desperation for more apparent.

Yes, she silently wagers on ball five. Yet, if larger, the doctor will be most pleased.    

This is day one. With the toy box well stuffed with anal insertions of every imaginable shape and size, the nurse knows well that Markie will soon be presenting her diligent hands with the nastiest of probes, the sizes most challenging. And he will be trained to take such....orally and anally. 

Thoughts on Gunning

Would really like to get some thoughts and feedback on 'gunning', particularly from women of Dominance.

Power exchange yes, but in which direction? Humiliation yes, but for whom?


Sunday, August 17, 2014


Came across accounts of this curious conduct on behalf of male inmates in the custody of female guards.

My reaction, assuming the role of the Dominant Female guard, would be more of amusement.

'Who's locked up and left with the only form of sexual release being your hand,' would be the attitude I would take. To me it's more demeaning for the perpetrator than for a governing woman.

'You'll need to stroke it harder for me. I can barely see it.'

So, of course this conduct spurred a story... nasty... deviant... demented.

Nothing like reality to encourage quality smut from Chris Bellows.

The Peg Board (ID #15110001): 

4,300 words. $ 2.00 (I get $.91, Lulu gets $1.09).



Saturday, August 16, 2014

A Woman in Control - A good life gets better VII

A good life gets better VII

I glow in satiation yet find the vigor to dismount. Jack remains standing at the doorway. I approach. He’s seen enough.

“Bed,” I command.

A mortified and dejected Jack reluctantly tiptoes to the single mattress centered in his chamber. He lies, I quickly attach the straps to ankles and wrists, pulling to tighten with ease. Added to his bondage is a strap attached right and left to his waist belt, i. e. the receiving antenna and battery pack. This further immobilizes, driving home the message of complete feminine dominion. I slip on his hood, then plug in the waist belt to recharge the batteries.

As I check the straps to assure exacting tightness, Jack finds the temerity to speak.

“You look very pretty, Miss Desiree,” the tone so heartwarmingly timid.

I smooth a hand along a cheek then reach beneath the hood to remove the audacious cheap earrings.

“Thank you, Jack. And I feel great. Harry is a great lover, don’t you think? So nicely hung... and patient in letting me do my thing. Quite virile, as you will find. I think I’m filled.”

“I’d like to do that... make you feel great. Like Harry.”

I laugh.

“It will never ever happen, Jack. You’ve been castrated... and are locked in a steel cock cage. But I’ll be in later and you can lick me. For now, I think Harry’s good for one more ride... if not two. Now go to sleep, it’s late... almost nine p.m.”

Jack’s slumber time is that of a child. I deliberately bed him more than necessary, bringing endless tedium as he lies bound and helpless.

It’s good for him... for a psyche which capitulates more each day. He’s seen me fuck with purpose... aggressively taking not giving. Now I will leave the bedroom door open and he will listen in darkness... and in complete immobility. It will frustrate, his wife fucking another man... and with such fervor. Yes, he’ll pine for his own opportunity... and that will never ever come. He’ll just cook and clean... the latter task to include my pussy. 

And indeed, I am going to ride Harry again. My attitude is... if there is an iota of spunk available... I want it. Harry is to be depleted. Drained, his penis will be milked and milked by my deft PC muscles. I’m not completely greedy... after all I share his spunk with Jack.

Wednesday, August 13, 2014

The Sash - Obedience Training

Obedience Training

Copyright 2014

by Chris Bellows

“You will listen to my every word... most attentively, Markie. And then you will obediently follow my instructions... instantly. You are not to speak unless I demand a reply.”

“Yes, Ma’am,”

The lithe form stands in nakedness, hands humbly folded atop long blonde curls. A tall and imposing Nurse Benson looks downward despite his high heels. Many weeks of hormone injections have abetted in developing a delightfully smooth layer of subcutaneous fat. The hairless once male figure appears pubescent, such girlishness brought to a once budding muscular frame.

“Remove your shoes.”

“But Nurse Benson, that means I will have to crawl.”

“Silence! Obey!”

The Nurse reaches forth, thumb and index finger most cruelly capturing a right nipple, puffy with the hormonal reaction to the flood of estrogen. Yes, the depleted testosterone of the castrated male offers timely and notable transformation to femininity. She pinches. Her charge gasps, his knees buckling with the sharp pain.

Bending to follow the supplicating girly boy to the floor, the nurse maintains her grip until hands rapidly move to the straps of the right shoe and begin to remove. Without the footwear Markie’s altered feet do not... will not... function to permit him to stand upright... and certainly not offer normal motion.  

Right shoe removed, left shoe follows to leave Markie in complete deshabille. Stripped!

“Good girl. You will save yourself some suffering by listening and obeying. You must feel good without your diaper. You like to show yourself to women... don’t you Markie?”

The question brings remorseful thought. The constant nakedness is most humiliating. As is being in make up, styled long hair and polished nails... fingers and toes. Yet there is indeed a strange inner joy.

‘What is it they are doing to me?’ Markie asks himself in silence again and again.

“I... I... guess so, Nurse Benson.”

“Yes, girly boys like you find joy in the humiliation... the exposure. Now roll to your back spread your legs and show your Nurse Benson the doctor’s latest modification. Quickly now. Well spread... put your feet up to your shoulders. Show off for me... be a good girl.” 

Avoiding another assault, the nurse knowing precisely where to apply the most modest pressure of thumb and forefinger to the most sensitive of pink flesh, Markie scrambles to comply. Within seconds he lies supine, legs parted, thighs raised, obscenely showing himself... herself... to the white uniformed woman of governance.

“Very nice. Very obedient. Markie I do think your penis has shrunk even more,” the nurse lowering herself to inspect. “And this little sac of yours is withering. At bath time I’ll massage it for you. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Markie?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” the notion bringing a modest yet joyous smile.

“Yes, you castrated boys all like having a woman toy here. It brings memories doesn’t it Markie?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” the implied loss brings a mournful tone in contrast to the faint joy.

“Now what is this here, Markie?” the fingers slipping lower toward the anus.

The question brings disconcertion. Markie remains silent.

“Tell me what this is Markie!”

“It’s... it’s my new pee hole.”

“New. Yes, the doctor has graciously helped you again. You’re becoming more and more like the little girl we want you to be. You now must squat to pee. And you’ve so nicely learned how.... haven’t you Markie. Squatting like a girl now...”

A finger abrades the new opening, at the perineum between the plundered scrotal sac and the anus. Markie’s mien further plunges in thinking of the process. The operation was quick and simple, but learning how to control the flow of excretions time consuming. Many weeks in diapers. Many fanny spankings for soiling himself.

Finally, muscling which normally permits ejaculation more or less came to Markie’s rescue. No more diapers... no more fanny spankings. He pees now... upon command... but only upon command... and only as would a girl.

“And now your penis is useless... except to amuse. Do you like amusing us, Markie? Like it when you wear the sash and you get hard for us?”

“If it pleases, Nurse Benson.”

“Yes, it does. And you’re learning to please... and you enjoy learning to please.”

The nurse rights herself, picking up the special shoes which empower Markie with normal movement. Without he must crawl, both feet curled almost to the shape of a fist.

Strolling to nearby shelving, Markie is disheartened when the nurse reaches above, stowing his footwear high. No longer able to stand, the footwear is beyond his reach, not to be retrieved without assistance.

“Now, I want you to crawl for me, following my commands. Left, right.... fast, slow... forwards, backwards. We like it when meek little girly boys crawl... all pink and naked. And keep your knees parted, Show off that empty scrotum. Make that little penis flop about,” the demanding words offered as the nurse returns.

A firm hand swings. Markie’s well rounded right cheek resounds with a splat, painful but no where near the level of anguish received with the discovery of a soiled diaper or failure to empty his bladder upon command. Thus he knows to instantly comply, hands and knees shuffling.

“To the toy box. We’re going to begin anal training. Girly boys like anal training.”

Sunday, August 10, 2014

'The Sash' available from Lulu

I am offering the completed manuscript on Lulu for those who wish to read ahead.

49,000 words. $6.00

The Sash (ID #15080764):

Although there is male on male interaction, I believe aficionados of the Femdom genre will be more than adequately entertained.



Saturday, August 9, 2014

A Woman in Control - A good life gets better VI

A good life gets better VI

I fuck Harry, riding him like the bull he is. Lying supine on the hassock tends to enhance the penetration... at least seems to enhance the penetration. Knees bent with feet flat on the floor, hands and arms to the sides, head dangling off the top, Harry’s back is somewhat arched and thus those twelve inches stand straight toward the ceiling. I part the billowing negligee, straddle, grasp at the base, assessing the abundant length protruding above my hand as always, then guide the purple bulbous tip to greet my outer labia, engorged in anticipation. Vagina wet and slick, I then lower myself in glory, feeling the hotness, the slight friction as I open myself using Harry’s equine length and girth. Yes, girth. Probably more important for this girl is the intense frictioning of the vaginal walls and the resulting heat brought by the plumpness... bringing physical smoldering to join smoldering desire.   

Fully impaled, I pause, teasing... tantalizing. I control all motion, including toying with Harry’s nipples. I smile, taunt in suggesting the need for further penetration, knowing that there is no more to be had... there is no more that can be taken.

Harry once talked during copulation. This I discouraged by shushing and delaying... demonstrating that all was under my governance... the timing... the motion... the squeezes... my pubo coccygeus muscles well tuned.  

So in silence I begin to slowly buck. Harry’s moan of pleasure brings a smile. I turn my head, toward the spare bedroom, Jack’s chamber of bondage and sensory deprivation. There stands my husband, cautiously avoiding proximity to the frame. My smile broadens. My thighs contract to lift then relax to lower. Another moan. I wave a hello to Jack, a child greeting her father from the merry-go-round. He pouts, I purse my lips to blow him a kiss.

Then I concentrate. Though tormenting Jack is amusing, I shall not have it distract. A girl needs to take care of herself... for though it is important that a woman have a man who is a good lover, caring and attentive in bed... a well stuffed hassock will do just as well.

Up, down, up, down, time becomes meaningless. I no longer look to the bedroom, I know Jack watches... mesmerized? Perhaps there is some how the return of normal sexual desire, the libido some how restored after a constant deluge of anti androgens. But then what, Jack? Your penis is locked in a cage... and even if freed it will not ever again function... not like that of a man.

No, your role is to watch... and serve... and ogle in envy.   

More thrusts, more squeezes, I feel oscillations. I reach down and tenderly pinch my clitoral hood, adding to the stimulation. Then my PC muscles go to work, adding a rippling sensation which I know my bullstuds so much enjoy. One final squeeze, a paroxysmal down thrust and I cry out in ecstasy, feeling Harry simultaneously explode deep within.

It will be a while before Jack can feast on that load, I think to myself, slumping to rest on Harry’s sweaty chest. My timing superb, the spunk splattered my cervix... at least so it felt... so I imagine. Yes, Jack will need patience in his oral efforts to gather and cleanse.