Thursday, April 27, 2017

'Bejeweled' published

I have published 'Bejeweled'. a short story of some 7,700 words. $2.50

Female Dominant, male submissive, pony play.

Enjoy.

http://www.lulu.com/content/e-book/bejeweled/20856325



Saturday, April 22, 2017

Bejeweled II


Will be working diligently to finish this story and get it published.

Enjoy.

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Stool no longer required, Madeleine Cartwright smiles with her reverie as, just as trainer Marcy stood before pony boy Tommy on that enlightening summer’s eve, hands go to her tight skirt to roll up the hem then likewise enshroud the head.

Yes, Tommy has indeed been trained to taste... and more than the essence of the feminine love nest. She feels the lips of her steed find her urethral opening, pursing in preparation. She opens herself, assured in knowing that not a drop is ever spilled... not after the numerous canings dispensed for sloppiness. Her excretions gush, smiling in not hearing the slightest gulp, sensing no swallowing. Yes, Tommy opens his gullet, her flow going to his stomach without impedance.

To so forthrightly take what her body casts away... and so eagerly... is gratifyingly symbolic. He savors her and all she offers.

“Get you some dinner, Tommy. If you remain thirsty I’ll water you as well. I know you miss Miss Marcy,” stepping back to lower her skirt. “I’m sure her offerings were substantial... and appreciated.”

“Yes Ma’am. I miss her.”     

Trainer Marcy has moved onward. Madeleine regrets the departure, but funds have depleted. The accumulated wealth of the late ranch patriarch Edger Cartwright remains substantial, Madeleine able to live comfortably. But the neutered servants had to be let go as well, ending the negative cash flow. 

In thinking of Pat and Matt, their lithe nakedness seeming ubiquitous about the vast ranch house, there comes a warm smile which turns deviant with the recollection of finally understanding their true role. Having been brought up with their presence, their only covering the straps of their ungainly high heeled shoes, Madeleine learned only after her father’s passing that such cute plumped forms were present not so much to tend to household chores as to offer oral gratification.

‘Women of our ilk don’t condescend to such sordidness,’ mother Cartwright explained with a contemptuous snort some weeks after the funereal. ‘I wanted your father pleased and satiated, though not by another woman. Pat and Matt were a compromise.’

The neutered duo were kind, obedient yet playful. And in being with little sexual drive, mother Cartwright assigned them the task of bathing and dressing the little girl Madelein. Pink ribboned emaciated penises flopping about beneath emptied puffs of male flesh, toddler Madeleine was given to giggle incessantly. Thus in being initially introduced to Tommy’s serpent of an organ, there came alarm.

Madeleine strolls to a waiting bowl of gruel, stirs with a wooden spoon then returns, offering a large dollop.

“I’m going to run you tomorrow, Tommy. It should be a nice day. Take you to the coop square. I have not put you on display for a while.”

“I’d rather not, Miss Maddy... go to the square.”

“Well you’re going... it’s good for you... for your self esteem... or lack thereof.”

The evening meal is large, the only sustenance offered for the day. Madeleine Cartwright patiently spoons dollop after dollop, the fare thick... fruits, vegetables, yogurt blended with raw egg... the formulation nutritious but otherwise unpalatable. It’s not to be enjoyed. Enjoyment for the pony boy is laboring in harness under whip and crop.

Meal concluded, the bowl is exchanged for a basin. The stable floor to be spared of sloppiness, Madeleine positions herself between the well parted thighs and carefully reaches for the long thick manhood. The ringed tip is released from its upright position, held at the navel by a gold piercing. A knowing hand carefully lowers, aligning with the basin.

“Psst, psst, Tommy. Empty yourself for me.”

Thumb and forefinger continue to hold the reverse Prince Albert piercing, the golden ring thrust through the urethral opening but exiting the top of the shaft rather than the bottom. The special configuration leaves the hypersensitive underside of the penis tip free for frottaging and feathering and also offers a convenient manner to control the ten each length. For otherwise the long thick shaft is untouchable. It’s been spiked. Row after row of tiny diamond studs have been meticulously implanted in the penis shaft, the sharp tips untouchable. Thus the male appendage is not strokeable, and normal copulation forever denied.

Tommy will not again achieve normal sexual release... vaginal or manual.

The process required many weeks, many dollars, much patience and the endurance of much pain. But mother Cartwright was most pleased, the many implants resulting not only in denial but an organ which scintillates proudly during sunny morning jaunts. And the irony of having to bestow pleasure so daintily... the male erogenous zone reduced to a patch of penile flesh no larger than a thumb print... offers such feminine empowerment.       

If and when Tommy is permitted to discharge, such is offered in a distressingly enfeebled manner... and brings both amusement and exhilaration to she in charge

Tommy obediently opens himself, the deed performed throughout the day. Never to urinate on his own, his ringed penis mandates release from his navel piercing and feminine supervision.

“Good boy,” Miss Maddy coos as the bladder so humbly performs.

“May I discharge for you Miss Maddy?”

Such a meek query for a normally virile deed. The words bring a smile, pony boy Tommy having no conception of the schedule for his next release nor the day of the month.

“No Tommy. Month end is next week. I’ll put you in your chair then.”

Equestrienne Madeleine Cartwright gently jostles the penis ring sending a last droplet of urine to the basin. She then lifts, rehooking the gold loop to the navel piercing, securing the lengthy strip of male flesh for the evening.

Stepping away she recalls first handling the male appendage, years ago mother Cartwright seeking to instill feminine empowerment in daughter Madeleine...

Thursday, April 20, 2017

New story published - 'My Servitude'

Back with you.

I have published on Lulu a short story, 'My Servitude', of some 11,600 words. $3.50.

Female dominant, male submissive involving chastity and humiliation.

Not to be read by the homophobic male.

http://www.lulu.com/content/e-book/my-servitude/20833179

Monday, February 20, 2017

Bejeweled

A little pony play. I have not written in this genre in a while.

I will post when the story is completed and available on Lulu. It will be short.

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Bejeweled

Copyright 2017

by Chris Bellows

Madeleine Cartwright palms the warm soft globe, bringing a brisance of feminine delight. A thumb smooths over the thin flesh. Now the size of a peach, she recalls youthful days when the organ was modest but growing in promise... as her mother explained.

‘It will ripen, dear. With maturity... and some special treatment.’

Her hand moves to next palm the opposing testicle, equally impressive in size... her capricious handling bringing more headiness.

“Almost time for another pair of rings, Tommy. Gold is getting pricey but I’ll not deny you your anniversary gift.”

She feels her steed tremble in response... the words? Her tender touch?  His truckling reaction augments her sense of power and control.

“Please no, Miss Maddy. They’re... they’re... well... it’s difficult to run for you.”

“That’s why I strap them for you, silly boy.”

Madeleine withdraws her palpating hand and strolls about the mammoth hanging form, checking the tethers. Bound for a long evening of rest, comfort is important... as important as imparting the sense of helplessness and vulnerability. It is best... just as her mother lectured years before when Madeleine Cartwright was first introduced to the stable and the delight of owning, grooming, and exercising the male steed... the intact male steed.

Hanging from the beams of the aging wooden barn, three broad cloth straps hold in place the prostrate nakedness at waist height, encircling at the chest, right thigh and left. A foam lined prosthetic neck collar holds in place the head... firmly but again comfortably. The arms are drawn back to rest at the small of the back, wrists cuffed and secured together. The feet are drawn up to the wrists, ankles likewise tethered to restrain the nakedness in a moderate and thus easily endurable hogtie.

The steed is thus immobile and subject to examination... close and intimate... the thigh straps forcing apart the knees to reveal luridly the male package.

Stepping to the front, Madeleine smooths her right hand over the forehead then gently pats the right cheek in a maternal gesture of kindness.

“You’ve been running well for me Tommy. You deserve more diamonds... but there is no place left for them.”

A thick cloth hood is summarily slipped over the head and face. Deft hands work to align a large opening for the mouth and nose. Then comes the ritual that began so many years before. At the time Madeleine a slip of a girl, newly acquired steed Tommy hanging in his bonds for the first time... Marcy Griffen, a sizable woman of color, serving as trainer and groom, introduces the owner’s daughter to the world of the human equine.   

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“Come Maddy,” the affable but stern trainer gestures. “He can’t hurt you.”

Pony boy Tommy hangs for the first time, well bound and hooded. A prepubescent Madeleine Cartwright, shy but curious, looks on from the corner of the stable. Meekly responding she approaches, apprehensive. Having been tended to by the ranch’s naked castrate servants... mother’s preference for household help... the naked intact male form has not before been viewed by young Madeleine. And though young, the male bits hang imposingly, the reason Tommy’s form demanded a goodly sum at auction.

Marcy takes the little girl’s hand, a firm grip transmitting a sense of feminine power and thus assuaging concerns. There follows a lecture, Marcy’s strong free hand brazenly grasping and pinching various parts of the male anatomy, explaining the muscles which she will endeavor to better develop. There also come descriptive words concerning the penis and its function, such a long strand of flesh not before seen. When Marcy palms the tip, her thumb nimbly kneading the underside of the hypersensitive tip, Madeleine is first surprised then amused when the organ begins to swell then firm. Such has never occurred with the neutered household help.

“Boys like to play with this, Maddy. It feels good to them... making it harden. But here at the ranch it will no longer harden for him... only under the direction of a woman in charge.”

Young Maddy stares in silence as Marcy playfully encourages full tumescence then withdraws.

“It’s... it’s... so big, Marcy,” an astonished Madeleine exclaims.

“Yes, not like the girly boy maids in the house. He’s a good ten inches, Maddy. There are women such as your mother that enjoy working a boy of size. Brings a certain thrill.”

“And these,” the hand palming the male plums, “ these are called testicles. Very sensitive organs... we can use them to better control him.”

Marcy demonstrates, vigorously squeezing the right egg between thumb and forefinger to bring instant pain. Maddy steps back in surprise when there comes a gasp of male anguish and spasmodic lurching in the broad hanging straps. When Marcy merely laughs in response, Maddy feels comforted.... giggling girlishly to join in feminine delight.

“I’ll be working this one very hard over the next few weeks, Maddy. Get him broken into the harness and in shape. If he’s good, he’ll get a reward.” Marcy guiding young Madeleine to stand before the hooded head as she speaks.

Maddy’s hand is released as Marcy reaches to the hem of her short tight leather skirt, rolling upwards.

“Boy’s like to taste things... at least he’ll be trained to enjoy tasting things.”

With that, Marcy exposes her mons, never working the stables with undergarments. Maddy is further surprised when the woman of resolve steps forth to press her flesh to the exposed nose and mouth of pony boy Tommy.

“Lickie lickie,”she genially encourages with a smile, her hands enshrouding the hooded head to align moist chocolate flesh with pink lips.

Marcy hears the sounds of wetness, the male tongue obediently complying.

“Maddy, when you come to play in the stable, leave your panties behind. Mother does not need to know. It will just be between us girls. I’ll have a stool for you to stand on.” 

Monday, January 30, 2017

Paperbacks

As most authors are aware, there is limited demand for stories in paperback format, particularly in the smut genre. Thus the time and effort required receives little revenue in return with most of the price going to Lulu. 

However, if any reader so desires and has interest, I will take the time to  format a story for paperback publication. Just drop me a note as to which.

CB 

Saturday, January 21, 2017

Serving the Queen VI


This will be the last snippet from 'Serving the Queen'. Not sure what is next.

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The basement of the palace is a dungeon, belying the opulence of the living quarters above. Concrete, thick, offers pleasant coolness, contrasting the heat of equatorial Africa. But such drabness.

Nurse Audrey Timmons checks her calendar. Caring for seven well conditioned, well hung young blond males is time consuming. Every one is daily freed from his four walls of nothingness, exercised, fed and bathed. And then returned to the monotony of unending darkness, neck and wrists encapsulated by the rigid stock, nose leash tied off to remind of feminine control, placed in the humbler as assure limited mobility.

But one is prepared for caning, the Queen’s daily entertainment.

Today it is Richard, therefore he is to be freed first.

Strolling the hall, the silence always amazes. The detention chambers are soundproofed. No noise in... no noise out. At door number 4, Audrey grasps the heavy bolt, two hands and much effort required to slide the three inch thick rod to the left.

It’s not locked in place. Any one can enter a detention room. But no one can ever leave. There is no way to slide the bolt from the inside, and the interior is nothing more than four walls of more concrete, no windows, no light other than that beaming from the hall... and that only comes when the heavy steel door is swung open.

The manner of captivity is more symbolic than what is required for security. The Queen wants her subjugants to feel owned, to at all times sense the gloom of total capitulation. For as nurse Audrey pushes open door 4, leaning, pressing with two hands, leg muscles flexing mightily, the chamber alights to illuminate he to be caned. A hooded Richard lies on his right side, nose leash tied off to a sturdy bolt, neck and wrists secured in the Rigid stock, knees bent to relieve the tension on his scrotum. Yes, before bedding the subjugant, nurse Audrey has the joy of putting in place a humbler, the device’s appellation so apropos. For the bearer must at all times assume a position of supplication, lest his testicles be pulled away by his legs and thighs.

“Good morning Richard, caning day,” nurse Audrey pleasantly calls out.

“Please no, Miss Audrey.”
 
“Come now, no begging. You want to please the Queen do you not?”

Nurse Audrey stoops, loosening the wing nuts that connect the two lengths of wood squeezing the male plums. She smiles, tenderly patting the male organs, the Queen’s subjugants all so well endowed. The simple but effective implement is hung on a wall hook, there to await Richard’s return at day’s end. As Richard gasps a breath of relief, finally able to straighten his legs, nurse Audrey releases the nose leash from the wall hook.

Richard has been obedient, the slim cord secured with slack. Bad boys spend the night with their nose and face pressed to the wall.

“Up. Slowly. No pleading. Offering that nice butt of yours to the Queen’s hand is why you’re here. Why we take such good care of you.”

Nurse Audrey jostles the leash. Richard knows to roll to his knees, then slowly rise to stand. She has yet to decide whether to remove the hood. Sometimes she walks the subjugant blinded, sometimes she permits sight. It is at her caprice, depriving her charge of vision, forcing him to concentrate on pulls of the leash. It empowers.

Still, on this morning, much needs to be done. Sighted, the journey to the preparation room is quicker. Thus she, quickly unhooks the leash from the nose grommet, pulls from the opening for nose and mouth, then whisks away the thick black cloth. Nimble fingers quickly return the leash. She has so many times offered such momentary freedom.

Richard blinks, eyes acclimating after many hours of total darkness.

“Come. Much to do.”

Nurse Audrey leads, Richard follows, must follow. Tension on the leash is to be minimized, that a subjugant learns within moments of being grommeted... that a slim delicate feminine hand can offer such instantaneous agony. 

Into the hall, nurse Audrey slowly steps, looks back and smiles. Richard is well over six foot, well muscled. But so tamed, so vulnerable in his complete nakedness, so obeisant to a woman’s controlling hand. Plus his long penis is beginning to swell. Homage to she in charge? Subservience to a woman brings sexual thrill? The hormonal imbalance of endless chastity announcing a need?

Nurse Audrey wonders... but will never know. Still she enjoys... as does the Queen.          

Into the preparation room, well supplied, well designed for the care of the helpless prey of the Queen’s wickedness.

“Down,” comes the command, superfluous as the taut nostril leash mandates that Richard drop to his knees.

Tummy on the narrow padded rubber preparation bench, the leash is tied off to a floor hook, the steel Rigid Stock pressed to the tile floor.

“Spread for me,” Richard humbly parting his knees.

Ankle cuffs await, within moments Richard is made one with the preparation bench, returned to complete immobility, head low, buttocks high. It is a palace dictate, the Queen’s young blond naked prey are either held in thorough bondage or led about naked and leashed. Her Royal Highness insists, the sense of vulnerability, helplessness and ownership be constant... feminine control relentless.

“Fill the bucket for me like a good boy,” the command coming as nurse Audrey directs the swelling penis to collection vessel.

Richard humbly opens his bladder, feeling the directing hand as he performs for the woman in charge.

For those to be caned, supervised bowel movements are forgone. Instead there comes preparation for an enema, the Queen’s flooring not to be soiled with bowels giving way under intense pain. Thus nurse Audrey prepares, beginning with two quarts of warm soapiness, two clear water rising enemas to follow.

She enjoys handling the male, grasping the freely hanging testicles in left hand for leverage, lubricating the anus with gloved fingers of the right.

“Please not too much, Miss Audrey.”

Nurse Audrey smiles. It is not the naked and bound prey who will decide.

“No begging, Richard. You know you must be cleansed, prepared and presented for the Queen’s amusement... which suggests you not embarrass yourself with loose bowels. So I’m going to add another quart. You need to learn obedience. I can be strict with boys who grovel.”

The enema bag further fills. Then a stout inflatable nozzle greets the greased rectum and slips inward with a vigorous thrust. A hand pumps to inflate. In turning on the valve, nurse Audrey notes the penis, the barometer of male arousal. It further swells, belying his pleading words. She smiles. He enjoys, deep within there is joy with her tendance.

While filling, the enema slowly administered, nurse Audrey douses the naked form with warm water. Next comes shaving lotion and a straight razor, the youthful body to be completely hairless. A sponge bath follows, fragrant soap.... effeminately fragrant soap... the Queen not to be offended with male scent. Left wrist then right are momentarily freed, the flesh beneath swabbed then returned to bondage.       

Ten minutes, fifteen? It matters not. Nurse Audrey is in charge, ignoring the squirming, moaning form as the bowels fill.

Finally relief is granted, the nozzle deflated, gruffly pulled away, bowels empty to the floor drain, nurse Audrey standing ready with the hose to bring instant cleanliness, ridding the preparation room of the foul contents.

Rinsing enemas follow, disappointingly limited, to be momentarily held. Then comes a final rinsing spray of the entire body.

Nurse Audrey glances at the clock, noting her timing is credible. Richard’s nakedness needs oiling, the Queen wanting him to glow under the bright lights, the albescent Scandinavian flesh to be well presented to those the Queen will this morning be entertaining. The soft white epidermis welts alarmingly, the raised crimson ridges from each stroke of the cane to be prominently displayed. Nurse Audrey thus massages attentively, excess oil dripping from buttock flesh about to be excoriated.

At 10:00 a.m. a matron arrives. Motiva, a women of size and much disdain for the Caucasian male, greets.

“Good morning, Audrey. The Queen will very much enjoy this one. Prepared like a beast ready for roasting at a banquet.”

“Good morning, Montiva. He’ll not need much hand work either. He’s been enjoying the anal penetration of the enema nozzle as you can see.”

The observation brings girlish laughter, both women peering at a semi hard penis, dangling between parted thighs.       

Richard blushes, aware of his condition, aware that he is to be erect, to enter the caning chamber with a standing penis. The Queen insists. She wants her blond boys paying tribute, firm erections bobbing about. Then she will bring flaccidity, the searing strokes of the cane diverting thoughts of arousal.

Thus Montiva stoops behind the kneeling nakedness. A coal black hand gathers some massage oil. Richard is to be masturbated... partially... never to expel his seed.

And so the black hand strokes, brusquely, wary of bestowing too much pleasure. As she brings Richard to full stand, nurse Audrey releases the ankle cuffs then the nostril leash. When deemed fully erect, Montiva steps back. Nurse Audrey jostles the leash then pulls upwards, forcing Richard to stand, his erection long and thick... bobbing comically.

As Montiva takes the leash, the knowing hands of nurse Audrey apply oil to the tummy, completing the gleaming presentation.

“No tears, Richard,” Nurse Audrey admonishes. “Try not to cry. I’ll be here to treat you when the Queen has finished with you.”

With that Montiva leads from the preparation room, her powerful hand bringing a spark of pain in tugging firmly. And Nurse Audrey? Well there are six other subjugants... these to be exercised, fed, bathed then returned to the dark nothingness where they will await their turn in the Queen’s caning chamber.

Wednesday, January 18, 2017

Serving the Queen V

Such a convenient way to counter the drudgery of commuting in New York City, Audrey Timmons muses, peering out the tinted window of the black Bentley as the chauffeur inches through a crowded intersection.

No subway train this evening. The apparently wealthy... extremely wealthy... Richard Lundquist insisted his driver take her to her home... a modest lower east side apartment.  

Spending a few hours in the special place, returning Richard Lundquist to the frustration of the heavy steel stock, brings a degree of exhilaration. It’s been ten years... ten years of hum drum nursing. And this evening she was once again elevated to a position of control. There’s certain headiness in sensing superiority.

The Martin Rigid Stock, hand crafted by a German bondage aficionado, proved to precisely fit. The opening of smooth steel enclosed gently but firmly around the neck. The wrists as well. What always impressed Audrey Timmons about the device is.... no locks. Once the wrists and hands are incapacitated, the openings are held closed by slipping simple vertical pins through aligning holes. Same with the neck opening.

Ah, the frustration for the bearer, for he cannot free himself... but any one else can. A mere child can slip out the pins... offer freedom... but not the bearer. Such irony. Such well muscled brawn... yet such docility... forced into capitulation by two inch shards of metal.

The Queen’s palace had security guards, yet in handling the royal subjugants, caring daily, preparing such for weekly canings, Audrey Timmons never experienced any resistance, any physical threat. She was omnipotent! And the feeling enthused... just as it did on this evening.    

Placing Richard into steel bondage, once again slipping in the securing pins, brought a thrill. And then just as Richard’s warped psyche so much desired, she once again put him through the daily regimen he forcibly endured during his three years of indenture.

Later she led him about the sizable penthouse by his nostril leash. Into the kitchen, remaining in the Rigid Stock, he knelt. There the naked neutered male was fed. Not the nutritious gruel of the palace but the sumptuous take out from the restaurant. Alas... that needs to change, Audrey thinks to herself

Yes, the evening brings to nurse Audrey Timmons her own memories... her many years also serving the Queen... but in a less lurid capacity...