Saturday, May 18, 2019

Snippet from 'To Reign at the Phipps Estate'

Prologue - Taylor Phipps

I hear a few bars of Tchaikovsky’s first piano concerto. It is the ring tone of my cell phone. I look to see it is attorney Pamela Harrison. We have not tribbed in many weeks and as I press to accept the call must wonder if she’s still fucking the young gay associate she hired in her office. When it comes to using her double dildo, tight is tight... as she has so sardonically explained her indiscriminate preference for gender.

So she has no doubt been otherwise getting herself off. And I cannot admonish her for the lack of attention. I in turn have Eve, Maxine and my weekend bull studs... though the latter have been tiring of late.

“Pamela, how are you? My affairs tended to... legal affairs?” beginning our confabulation with some wit.

“Your legal affairs are in good order, Taylor... as I am sure are all your affairs. Maxine still letting down for you?”

“We had her yielding nearly a half pint per day. Then I tired of it. It was fun making her produce for me. But when she too much begins to enjoy it, then it’s time to quit. Plus you can’t cane a girl when she’s letting down for you.”

Pamela laughs, well aware of the strict discipline at the Phipps Estate.

“And I so much wanted to milk her again. It’s incredibly empowering, Taylor... forcing a man to give up his essence... without ecstasy of climax... just a slow draining of his energy... and his pride of course.”

“She...” giving the pronoun great emphasis in reminding Pamela of husband Max’s transformation... “indeed slept well after expressing for me. But that can’t be why you called...”

“No. I have a thought for you. More like a proposal. I know you’re not running a hotel... or a dormitory there. But you’ve said the Eve Remarque situation has worked out well... for both of you. A modest salary, room and board... and attaining in return the exacting supervision... feminine supervision... which the transformed beta male requires... your words not mine.”   

No response from me. I need to know where this is going before I witlessly agree to something. So I pause in silence, letting Pamela... in legal parlance... present her case.

“You’ve got many rooms there... and certainly no lack of funds...”

I need not be reminded of the vast Phipps family trusts and the funds at my disposal, of which attorney Harrison is quite aware. 

“So you need a place to stay Pammy... or you need money?”

She laughs.

“Oh, Taylor, all these years and you think I would call you with some self serving quest? If I needed money I’d just send you another bill.”

It’s true. Pammy does not charge based on the size of my bank account... and she certainly needs not a place to stay, her modern upscale cooperative penthouse apartment in a way making the quaint Phipps mansion seem like a museum.
“No, I have come across a situation... helping an old classmate... from college. Years ago she married a widower. Not a rich guy... but not poor either. It was... shall we say convenient for her all the same... financially. Still there was affection...”

“So she is one of us?” I interrupt, getting to the gist.

“Yeah... but you know how it is... a girl has needs... and Andrea... her name’s Andrea... like most of us... had to go to the other side... for the stuff only guys can provide in this male dominated world of commerce. A house... food... money... nice clothing... a car.”

“Yes, yes,” encouraging Pammy to get to the point.

“Not all of us were born into millions, Taylor,” Pammy reminds me.

And she does have a point. I fell into the same temptation... marriage... just to cloak my preferences in addressing the need to mingle in high society... a foolish quest long vanquished.

“So why does this Andrea need your help?”

“Well, her husband had a young son... at the time... from a previous marriage.”


“He died... years ago... in an accident. Andrea’s been raising the kid... enough inheritance money from investments and life insurance to live... even put the tyke through college.”

“So no money needed.”

“Well... yes and no.”

“Yes and no?”

“Redmond... his name is Redmond... wants to go to law school. I told Andrea I’d help.”

“So where do I come in?”

“I got him accepted at Cancadia. I used some influence.”

A good law school. It’s local. And I’m beginning to put the pieces together. But before I proceed, I must have some fun with Pammy.

“Influence, Pammy? What influence could you possibly have with a prestigious law school... given your reputation?”

She snickers.

“How about I’ve been fucking the dean’s wife... while he serves us Champagne wearing panties. And after a long night, he makes us breakfast and I let him clean my dildo... with his tongue.”

Blunt. It’s always blunt with Pammy. I cannot suppress my laughter.

“Kudos for your efforts, Pammy. The things you do to advance your profession, ha, ha, ha.”

“Redmond’s a good kid, Taylor. Brought up to... ah... respect women... as you can imagine. But the money’s run out... and since he’ll be coming here from California, he’ll need a place to stay.”

Before I can utter another word, my phone chimes... indicating here is a text message. Of course it’s from Pammy... sending a photo... staged and ready to be sent to me as part of her script.

Do I have a choice but to continue the badinage by opening?

I do have a choice to refrain, but am too curious. I click and onto the screen of my smart phone comes the image of an Adonis... blond, blue eyed, and from what I can gather broad shouldered and most masculine.

“Get the pic?”

I murmur a ‘yes’.

“Turned twenty-one months ago, Taylor. Legal stuff in every state. Obedient. And in need... of feminine guidance if he’s going to be so far away from his mommy,” Pammy so brashly planting sinister thoughts. “And you have so many, many bedrooms,” she sarcastically chides.

“What‘s the deal, Pammy? Bottom line?”

“Room, board, tuition.”

“And I get?”

“Whatever. He will need to study though, Taylor. I can’t arrange his grades and take any exams for him...”

“What about his mother?”

“His stepmother? As I said, she’s one of us. And she’s tiring of the drain, emotionally. And financially, what she has left can’t be spent on more tuition.”

“Then if she’s truly one of us, she will understand that I’ll first want photos... more pertinent to making a decision. And you know the poses and the conditions.”

“Seriously, Taylor?”

“Seriously. Feel free to tell this friend Andrea that I am a woman of my word... and that conditions met... I have the means to back it up. You know the poses... you know the size requirements.”

“Oh Taylor, wouldn’t make the call if we... Andrea... could not meet your criteria. She’s aware, been bathing the lad for many years. Still insists on inspecting him from time to time.”

I smile to myself.

Yes, this Andrea woman is one of us.

“Tell her she can cut out the facial features... if that is of concern.”

Wednesday, May 15, 2019

'To Reign at the Phipps Estate'

I have continued the Phipps Estate saga.

'To Reign at the Phipps Estate' has been published.

45,900 words, $7.75.




Saturday, May 11, 2019

'Maid Service at the Phipps Estate', Snippet Four

This will be the final snippet. Look for 'To Reign at the Phipps Estate', possibly next week.


I lounge about in a flimsy bathrobe, feeling decadent in sipping a morning Mimosa. Having completed reading the paper I now work on the crossword puzzle, listening to Maxine’s balls chime as she cleans the house. A curious way of assuring her efforts, for no ringing means motion has stopped. No motion, no labor. No labor and I call to Eve to have her caned.

After a two days, Maxine knows to keep herself busy, instantly reporting to me when a task is completed.

And sure enough, as I try to conjure a clue, 23 down, seven letter for communication, beginning with the letter ‘M’, the bells rhythmically tingle to suggest Maxine approaches.

“The dining room is clean, Miss Taylor. May I make you another Mimosa?”

As my arm drops, crossword puzzle pushed aside, my robe flips open, partially exposing my breasts. Maxine stares covetously. The look formerly would be considered libidinous. But with testosterone decimated, endocrine system brimming with estrogen, instead it is a look of envy, Maxine’s male glands remaining flat, her perky nipples appearing to be two cherries rolling about on a board.

I do believe she’d like to have the well rounded, fleshy globes of a real woman.

“In a bit, Maxine. Come here.”

As I have trained her, in approaching quite proximate, hands go to the back of her page boy, feet parting. Maxine knows I like to toy with her altered bits... in a way celebrating my triumph. Indeed, as my hand reaches out, she presents herself, ceding to me. I toy with an emaciated penis, shriveled with many months of female injected hormones.

She smiles, the nerve endings remaining vibrant... but the sensation useless for any ultimate male pleasure. That is forever gone. Still, with traces of slick male essence oozing, there is evidence of distant joy. Perhaps more psychological than physical... abdicating her once proud maleness to a woman in charge brings arousal... but not the arousal of an intact male.

“Another Mimosa later, Maxine.”

“May have clothing... covering?” the pleading voice so piteous.

“No, Maxine. It is best that you be nude... always. I insist that you exhibit yourself... your transformation. But I may have you wear ribbons for me,” my fingers going to nipples seeming to be begging for attention.

I flick. The puffy protrusions instantly harden, so nicely responsive to a controlling woman’s touch. Maxine blushes, embarrassed in seeing my enjoyment.

“Pink or blue, Maxine. I’ll have Nurse Eve tie up these cute little things in a nice bow.”

With the thought, Maxine smiles like a little girl.

“Blue please, Miss Taylor,” the obeisance of her concurrence notable.   

I make a mental note to begin breast treatment. I think she would like to be suckled. Did I purchase a breast pump? So many items assembled to ensure Maxine’s degradation.

“And how do you feel being anally opened? Bit of a thrill for that neglected prostate of yours.”     
“It’s... it’s... big, Miss Taylor.”

“And will get bigger. I’m sure your Nurse Eve showed you the collection I’ve procured. You weren’t fully opened at the clinic. I told Dr. Gehorchen that I wanted to do that. It’s... well... a thing with a woman like me,” my explanation vague as intended.  “Now tidy up the foyer and the parlor.”

My hand retreats from her penis. I hold up my fingers, Maxine obediently leans forth, mouth opening, licking away the traces of prostatic fluid. Then I give those little girl buttocks a firm swat, the pain heightened by the lasting welts of Eve’s latest caning. She squeals. When she turns to prance to the foyer, bells chiming, seemingly gladdened by my attention, I spy the flanged end of the impaling anal insertion... long and bulbous. For some reason it makes me feel good, the submission of my prettified husband utmost and constant.

Back to the crossword, 23 down... seven letters beginning with the letter ‘M’... ah... ‘missive’. With that the puzzle seems to melt. Augmenting my self satisfaction in completing is the tolling of the bells donned by my subservient new maid. Such an empowering sound.

Monday, May 6, 2019

Amazon/Molly Sands

From time to time I explore the vast repository of Amazon for any books or stories within the genres I write. In doing so I find little of quality, much seeming to be written at the eighth grade reading level (curious irony considering the themes are for adults). And one must be wary of bang for the buck... many brief stories at exorbitant prices.

I can’t find much worthwhile. This bolsters my decision to avoid Amazon in terms of offering my stuff. Putting aside the onerous revenue split Amazon requires, my efforts would disappear in the mountain of trash. So if you see any of my stories offered there, it has not been done under my purview.

That said, I have lately read quite a bit of stuff by author Molly Sands. She writes cuckolding/feminization themes, consensual, and writes well. Good dialogue (somewhat repetitive), an aspect with which I have always faulted my efforts, good character development, the plots and story lines realistic but somewhat drawn out (I tend to write succinctly minimizing the vanilla portions of a story).

I cannot find much about her (age, marital status, profession outside of writing if any, etc. and no manner of communicating with her, e.g. email address) but she is evidently from the UK and prolific. One drawback in her writings is that the storylines are quite similar. And she tends to tease the reader, introducing such things as chastity devices and extreme bondage gear but never fully incorporating into the story.

Anyway, if you enjoy stuff that is somewhat soft in comparison to mine, give her a try.

That being said, if anyone has a thought on how to market my stuff beyond the tight group on this blog, I’d be pleased to learn of it. I do look at the traffic sources for the blog from time to time and find much comes from other D/s themed blogs. Problem is getting the attention of the blog’s owner/author.   

The third segment of the ‘Transformed’ and ‘Maid Service at the Phipps Estate’ series is completed and will be offered by mid May. I just want to give it a final read for cohesion/coherence. Entitled ‘To Reign at the Phipps Estate’

Saturday, May 4, 2019

'Maid Service at the Phipps Estate', Snippet Three

Trucker Ray satiated, maid Maxine politely thanks him for the opportunity to please. The box is folded back up. The delivery men lift and leave. Maxine remains on her knees, awaiting her Master’s dictates, blushing in having to orally perform before a small audience.

“Many more to come, Maxine. A very good start to your duties here at the mansion. But I might add, I think I detected a little choking and the man was not overly sized,” my tone chiding.

“I’m sorry Miss Taylor, I will try harder.”

“You will... or be sent back to the clinic for a few weeks,” I warn, seeing the girly boy tremble under my authority. “This is Eve... to you Miss Eve... or Nurse Eve. She will see to your special care. And you will obey her. She is second in command,” finally introducing the glowingly smiling girl, again the pearl white teeth evidencing her enjoyment.

“Yes, Miss Taylor.”

“Greet her as trained.”

Maxine shuffles on her knees to position before the white uniformed major domo. My maid bends lower at the waist, hands remaining behind her head and kisses the feet of her young superior.

“Thank you for caring for me, Miss Eve.”

“I have not yet begun,” Eve’s voice suddenly becoming stern and commanding, falling so quickly into her role.

Maxine rights herself at the waist. Eve continues peering down assessing my prettified husband. Make up remains but is somewhat disheveled from being boxed. A coal black hand extends, smoothing over the straight locks of Maxine’s page boy. Then the arm lowers, fingers going to the right nipple.

“Your nipples, very puffy, Maxine. Do you like them looking like this?”

A finger ever so gently diddles, then moves to the left, caressing there as well. This brings the nubs to crinkle and stand, a curiously obedient response to a commanding woman’s touch. The blushing extends, goose bumps form. With the daily deluge of prolactin, the sensitivity of the glands is most pronounced.

“Very girlish,” Eve notes, so admirably stepping further into her role. “And yet you have balls... I think those are balls.”

I have not explicitly told Eve of Maxine’s forced physical transformation, taking a gamble that such would not put her off. It seems I have won my bet as she directs Maxine to rise, not at all disquieted by a girly boy bearing my trinkets.

Maxine obeys and the black hand goes to the pendants... the gonads Dr. Gehorchen so attentively ‘saved’. Fingers flick the right globe then the left, the small chiming bells hanging beneath turning my girl into a wind chime. Eve smiles, obviously repressing outright laughter.

“What happened here, Maxine? You have the testicles of a man... in plastic... and you’re made up like a girl.”

Oh the humiliation... so intense... Eve seeming to know such is key to the ongoing degradation of he who has failed me as a husband but she who will be reveling me with her servitude.

“I... I... well... there was an accident... or I... rather... well... I hurt myself... with a knife.”

“Castrated yourself... self mutilation... tsk tsk. Well you didn’t die, but easily could have. You bleed very much from the groin, Maxine. I’m sure you realize that now. You’re lucky to be alive... lucky to have an opportunity to serve... as a girl.”

Maxine glumly nods. The fingers rise to the penis, even smaller then when I last visited the clinic. Eve again diddles and flicks about the limp and useless strip of once male flesh.

“The hormones, working well?” Eve turning her attention to me. “Or has he... she... always been so limited here.”

“Both,” I reply with a snicker. “Small and getting smaller.”

Nurse Eve offers a pleasant laugh.

“Is that why you tried to make yourself into a girl, Maxine? Not able to function as a man?”

Maxine has no reply, tears seeming to form. Ah, such wonderful psychological duress. I will definitely observe her first caning. Eve seems eager to slake revenge on the male world, the transformation of Maximilian Von Webring enthuses. 

“Bath time, little girl,” Eve taking Maxine by the hand.

My new hire is marvelous, noting that the stifling box has brought a need for ablutions. I will have no worries, I conclude. As she leads out of the foyer towards the stairs, I detain her, handing over the package.

“For her daily injection, Eve,” knowing Dr. Gehorchen has forwarded a month or more supply. “Hypodermic needles in the second cabinet to the left. First cabinet to the left there’s something I want Maxine to wear for me when working about the house. Do choose a challenging size.”

The cabinet is stuffed with a collection of dildos, among other demeaning artifacts. Relieved of being anally impaled in the delivery box, I’d not want Maxine’s rectum to retract. Pamela Harrison will be perturbed if she has to work too hard to open her.

Saturday, April 27, 2019

'Maid Service at the Phipps Estate', Snippet Two

Moving to the front door, a truck of good size pulls under the porte-cochere. I stand at the top steps, arms akimbo assuming the role of chatelaine, Nurse Eve standing to my side. From the truck exit two burly workers.

“From the clinic,” the driver and older of the two announces.

“Please bring the shipment into the house,” acknowledging.

Though secluded, I don’t want Maxine outdoors. Certainly not because of neighbors... none for over half a mile... but because the freedom I promised him will be quite limited. Liberated of the burdens of the role of masculinity which he could never fulfill, his new freedom... to serve and please women of authority... will be manifested within the confines of the vast Phipps mansion. It will be rare for her to again feel the sun’s rays.

The rear doors of the truck swing open. A tail gate folds down. The men push a wooden crate onto the hydraulic platform. I note they are careful, well aware of the contents of deliveries from Dr. Gehorchen and the staff. Jumping to the pavement, the older presses a button and the platform lowers to knee height. The crate is cubical, some three plus feet high, wide and long, surprisingly short considering the contents. Then they each grab an end and seem to effortlessly lift... again carefully.

I turn and lead to the mansion entrance, pushing open the double doors. Eve and the men follow into the nineteenth century foyer. It is of size, one envisioning a bevy of butlers and servants greeting dozens of guests for a formal dinner or other soiree.

I point, the men lower the box. At the top, in seeing the locking device which Dr. Gehorchen explained, I remove the cell phone from my pocket.

“We’ll need to return the box, ma’am. If you have the code we will open it and ah... release... ah... empty it for you.”

I swipe the phone. It alights. I go to my messages. Dr. Gehorchen has sent the code.

“1258,” I offer, the driver nodding and fidgeting with the gizmo at the top.

I hear a click and the man unfolds the top of the six sided cubical. He reaches within to retract a small package, handing it to me. I know it to be a month or more supply of that to be injected into Maxine’s cute little fanny, the calming chlordiazepoxide combined with estrogen and prolactin.

“These deliveries used to be more fun... for the younger guys,” the man becoming pedantic in addressing his assistant. “Before the coded locking system some of the boys would stop along the way open the box and get a little action... if you know what I mean,” glancing my way to ascertain any disapproval.

I simply shrug, hinting that to sully any of Maxine’s now supple openings is of little concern.

Top folded away, the man next works the sides, laying each to the carpet to expose in profile the doubled over form of a naked, feminized Maximilian Von Webring.

“With some of the guys... a blow job is a blow job... even if it’s from some pansy guy in make up and bangs. But no more, every delivery is now secured.”

As the man moves to the rear panel, I visually inspect.

Maxine is nude of course, and well tethered, despite being confined and immobile. Knees to her chest, thigh bands just above the knee connect to a short strap leading from right thigh, about the back of her neck to her left thigh. Very constricting, she is held in the decubitus position, wrists cuffed together above her upturned buttocks.

With the size and shape of the box, no one would suspect it contained a human form... naked, and well tethered.

“Now watch how I lower the last panels,” the drive again lecturing. “You may have to do this on some delivery.”

With that he reaches within, presses something and I hear the hiss of air.

“Inflatable penis gag,” the man explains. “For sure no more blow jobs,” added with a snicker.

With that he very slowly lowers the panel over Maxine’s head, hinged in being connected to the bottom panel. As his hands carefully guide, I note a sizable dildo slowly exits Maxine’s mouth. In being attached to the wooden panel, essentially Maxine’s head, mouth and throat have been made one with the box. 

“See, got to be careful. No gagging.”

Maxine, in obedient silence, licks her lips, the long interval of impaled mouth and throat coming to an end. Should I be surprised when the man next moves to the remaining upright panel and releases a second valve... more air hissing?

Yes, just as with Maxine’s mouth and throat a second inflatable dildo has filled her anal cavity for the hour or more journey from the clinic.       

“And no more of this either,” the driver crudely ramming his closed fist from his waist upwards in a gesture of sodomy.

As he slowly lowers the rear panel, sure enough a connected dildo slips from Maxine’s rectum, making an embarrassing plop as the bulbous tip comes into view.

“We’ll have to release the straps. As I said, need the box back. But we can restrain him... ah... her... any way you want.”

I just nod, smiling in seeing Maxine’s balls... probably more delight comes as they ring when motion is restored, the thigh straps and wrist cuffs removed, legs finally straightening.

“Welcome, Maxine.”

I see Eve staring as well. Maxine’s testicles... my testicles... dangling from a shriveled pouch of pink flesh. Ironically they hang from where they should be on the normal male... but doing so encased in Lucite with tiny bells announcing his neutering.

It brings a subtle glee to a woman like me... knowing such no longer function, masculinity terminated at my behest... and checkbook.

“To your knees, Maxine. I think you need to thank the gentlemen for freeing you. Hands behind your head... just as you’ve been taught.”

The last few weeks of Maxine’s stint at the clinic has involved much time in the fellatio room, perfecting not only tongue and lip skills, but a demanded regimen for the feminized male.

Maxine knows to crawl from the open crate, the folded down panels fanned out lying flat on the carpet, on two of which the inflatable dildos stand like flag poles.

“May I suck your penis sir,” the words so humble and polite, the voice seeming to be even softer and higher pitched than during my last visit.

The driver, of middle age, shakes his head.

“I don’t do that any more, girly boy. The wife... she expects attention when I get home. But Ray here is single,” the driver nodding to his cohort.

Maxine looks to me, so embarrassed. Yet her training... pounded and pounded into her head... dictates that for her utter subjugation is best... obedience... the need to please me as Master.

So I nod to this Ray worker, noting that he is already opening his zipper.

“Consider it to be a tip,” I flippantly suggest, looking to see Nurse Eve’s eyes aglow in rapt fascination.

Yes, I definitely have hired well. 

Monday, April 22, 2019