'Power, Losing It' (Part Two of Two)

Mia interrupts my thoughts, prancing into the sun porch, bowl in his/her tiny manicured hands. Miss Maria insists on good presentation and unlike her aunt, keeps Mia very neat.... pretty really. Also the mischievous Gigi has taken to apply makeup, bringing further gender obfuscation.

Since I am not permitted to use the bathroom, every door locked, Mia graciously presents a bowl for me to use. I sit up, stretch out my legs, parting my feet as far as the many chains permit. Mia stoops, aligning my caged penis, impaled by the Prince’s Wand, so I can empty myself into the bowl. There is not enough slack in my shackling wrist chain to touch my entrapped organ. For neatness, Mia must assist.

Neither of us can speak. Communication is through hand gestures and touch... that which still makes me quake in homophobic repugnance. And that is why on so many nights, Miss Maria has him/her sleep with me. The warm smoothness brings stirring to a penis long denied. A long night of constantly abrading his/her soft flesh brings the curse of nocturnal penile tumescence. Miss Maria knows this. It amuses.

As I relieve myself, the fingers of Mia’s free hand plays with my right nipple, brought to incredible sensitivity by the unending chastity. It feels both good and repulsive. Mia has no true empathy as to what his/her touch does. She thinks it soothes. Instead my penis is given to stir and fight the many tiny sharp spikes in the cock cage.

Still, I indeed need to go, and the bowl fills.

At the front door, I hear Maria departing and know that means being left alone with 18 year old Miss Gigi. She offers a sense that she feels more secure now that I am shackled and in forced chastity. Yes, she now feels very comfortable with me, the perverted stepfather who allegedly forced her to disrobe and be photographed.

Being the minx she is and knowing that in being silenced, neither Mia nor I can convey any deeds of naughtiness to Miss Maria, her mother’s absence gives her free reign. As a result, I conclusively know the damning photos were not taken under coercion or duress. The mischievous Gigi is just a fine actress.

Words of adieu exchanged, the front door closes as I finish. Mia arises to dutifully dispose of my excretions. Gigi enters wearing the flimsy robe which so teasingly flipped open at breakfast.

"How’s our little pet?" the voice transforming to sultry temptress.

Sitting up right, my face at the level of her waist, she parts the robe and fully exhibits her charms. Gigi now shaves down there... or rather she has Mia shave her. Thus the many fleshy folds of complicated and divine female genitalia are fully displayed. Now I indeed gawk... just as she likely accused years before the brash plot first became evident.

She is more then aware that I am helpless, barely able to move, speechless, effectively as neutered as Mia. I am thus very obedient... very docile... completely harmless. Even more of an object than Mia.

I inadvertently whine into my mouth bondage, the dental gag... termed a molt mouth gag... modified to buckle behind my head and constantly hold open my incisors and lips. In addition, Miss Maria has had my tongue pierced... for no other reason than she could do it... making even more remote the possibility of ever forming discernible words.

The sense of vulnerability cannot be described.... anyone... at any time... able to insert something into my orifice.

My behavior is thus quite temperate. A bar of soap has become a simple and common tool of discipline... so easily introduced... impossible for my altered tongue to eject. And when it triggers the gag reflex, there comes panic which in turn serves to entertain.

Miss Gigi steps closer, her wondrous young mons inches from the face of he long denied. My penis, partially aroused by Mia’s touch, firms even more. I would so much like to taste her!

My whine turns to a grimace, the cruel cock cage offering disciplinary pain. Full erections are not permitted.

"Would you like me to have Mia tongue you," the voice pleasantly turning to that of mother to child as her fingers lower and begin playing with the meatiness of her outer labia.

I shake my head, most obsequiously, expressing a pleadful look. Miss Gigi is most amused when she has Mia lick my scrotum, that portion of thin pink flesh exposed between the cock cage and the steel ring. It is torture... both physical and mental... orally serviced by a male... one time male. Arousal hurts. The homophobia brings troubling thoughts.

Meanwhile I detect the musky scent of the steamy female portal. My bound nakedness... her empowerment... brings arousal.. And unlike my condition, does not bring her anguish... only a look of Schadenfreude. To her, the naked male in bondage stimulates.

"Well, how about if I have you plugged. I’ve read that it is good for the chaste male... to manipulate the prostate from time to time."

I know this means Miss Gigi has spent more time on the internet... reading... scheming... devising... and purchasing.

"Mia... come... I want you."

Into the sun porch the feet prance in return... the bronzed buttocks roll.

"Bring the inflatable anal plug and some lubricant."

It is apparent that the Miss Gigi and my Hermaphroditic care taker have conspired. For Mia scampers away without another word of direction required and returns, jar of hand cream in hand and pulling from a box what appears to be a soft rubber dildo with a tube attached. It ends with a hand sized bulb of rubber, a puffolator to be squeezed.

As Mia’s soft little hands roll me to the side, I watch in apprehension as Miss Gigi squeezes the puffolator and to the sound of rushing air the dildo shaped opposite end expands.

Mia’s touch is familiar, showering with me daily, he/she bathes with me on Saturday evenings, the sight of two males frolicking in sudsy water quite the amusement for both mother and daughter. Thus Mia quickly splays my gluteal cleft and finds my rectum with aplomb. The hand cream is slathered about and Miss Gigi deflates then gives up the sordid device. Mia inserts and presses inward with equal deftness.

It is large, giving rise to much concern in realizing that it is designed to become even larger.

Miss Gigi seats herself, throwing her legs right and left over the arms of an easy chair. The robe gives way to fully part as she most obscenely spreads.

"Let him lie for a while, Mia, and acclimate."

She then wriggles her finger and points, knees further parting to open herself completely to my gaze and Mia’s face. I am to become the catalyst for multiple orgasms as Mia knows to approach, kneel, extend his/her enormous tongue and engulf the young girl’s entire sex with lips trained to perfection.

I whine again and lay back, somewhat disappointed with Mia’s head blocking the exquisite exhibition, knowing that Miss Gigi wants me to attentively watch her enjoyment.

To divert thoughts of painful stimulation, my mind returns to the day of my downfall...

******************************************************************************

Arriving home, no job, no car, relieved of much potential wealth, I have no choice but to counsel with Maria. With the aunt’s untold millions invested somewhere, her resources make my six figure mortgage pale. And there are other bills. Without the sizeable paycheck, the squeeze of insolvency will be quickly felt.

Since Maria turned over the computer, she is well aware of the circumstance of my termination. There is no point in trying to cloak anything... just to deny... deny... deny.

"Gigi has been advising me for sometime, Harold. Shocking. She is 16! And you’ve been visually and covertly molesting her for years. I know of the bathroom incident."

I deny deliberate intent.

"What of all the pics! Gigi told me exactly where they’d be found."

I deny knowledge.

"You’re always looking at her."

That I cannot deny. Gigi is a head turner. I have indeed been intrigued with the process of metamorphosis... pupa to caterpillar to butterfly. I was unaware Gigi was given to molt... shedding her clothing for the camera.

I bring up the sexting thing, subsequently reading of the teenaged trend, unfortunately after Gigi acquired her smartphone.

"Is it possible Gigi took the pics herself, Maria? The kids are doing that these days."

The notion irritates Maria... Miss Maria... that her cherished daughter could engage in such lascivious conduct.

"I downloaded copies, Harold. I studied the look on her face. She is being coerced... by you!"

Or is simply being a fine actress, I think to myself, but dare not fuel the fire.

The heated discussion continues, the main thrust not addressed... that I am no longer in financial control of the household. It is then that Maria... Miss Maria... steps into the breach.

"There is plenty of my aunt’s money to care of us... us being Gigi and me. But we can’t be together, Harold. Not as before. You can’t be near Gigi. I should be calling the police!"

The threat frightens. Maria’s downloaded copies are not sufficient evidence, but the originals in my computer certainly are. My former employer would give up the laptop in a heartbeat should a subpoena be issued. Would a full police investigation reveal Gigi’s duplicity?

I cannot take the chance. Possible jail time. A lifetime on the sex offenders list.

"Maria, I’m broke. There must be a way of working this out."

She pauses... a most frighteningly wicked look of empowerment comes over her face.

It seems there is.

******************************************************************************

I know the molt gag and chastity device are recently acquired... little custom items either Miss Maria or Miss Gigi come across on the internet. I suspect it has been a conniving Gigi... Maria empowering her to choose that form of bondage which would bring her the most comfort in remaining alone with me in the house.

Yes, Gigi needs to assure my continuing silence.

But the shackles? Part of the aunt’s estate... family heirlooms. Yes, there is a predilection that seems to run in the family... disdain for the male... the aunt apparently preferring burdensome restraints... or castration. Who wore these cuffs and chains and when? I will never know.

I had no choice but to agree to the process... the fitting... the piercing of my pubes for the steel support ring for the chastity cock cage. Where else was I to live? If Maria moved out, the mortgage would not be paid. Unless I capitulated, I was doomed.

But there is a glimmer of joy to be had. For some two years now I have been unencumbered in observing the caterpillar Miss Gigi continue to morph... to the beautiful butterfly she has become. And now there is more proximity offered... in being restrained and forcibly kept chaste... more opportunity to gaze at her charms... now unabashedly exhibited in that she knows that there is nothing that I can physically do... nothing I can report to mother Maria... nothing to happen unless she condescends. And Miss Gigi does, quite teasingly... so often offering a glimpse as my devious butterfly molts, shedding clothing to expose herself as she does now, sitting well spread with Mia performing deep, thorough oral satiation.

I am envious. Her odoriferous scent fills the room, bringing me to whine again.

The minx slides in the chair, further raising her thighs to present the rosebud of her anus. Mia knows to shift his/her face lower and service her there. Miss Gigi’s fingers then gather about the clitoral hood to knead and caress. I visually partake with lust, my cock cage strained, my firming penis wounded with many self inflicted stabs. Finally there comes a shriek of delight, a jet of female essence soaks Mia’s face and hair. Yes, Miss Gigi is a squirter, ejaculating copiously.

She pauses, becoming somewhat torpid in the glow of an thunderous climax, then recovers to beckon. I crawl forth as best I can, my many chains clattering, my motion joggling the anal impalement. I kneel in proximity and stare in wonderment at the hairless, newly ripened love nest. Such perfection! Mia’s assiduous oral attention has brought a wet gleam to soft fleshiness licked and sucked to torrid crimson. The fingers of Miss Gigi’s right hand dance to gather up as much of her feminine essence as can be seen, Mia’s forehead, face and hair, my attentive gaze riveted without disruption. The wet fingers then move to my face, dabbing to offer to my forcibly opened mouth the tasty juices of a most concupiscent teen. In welcome, I extend my tongue as best I can... the house pet begging for a treat. My truckling greeting brings a prideful, confident smile.

Mia wordlessly slips to my rear and grasps the puffolator. The connecting tube unravels as he/she knows to hand it to Miss Gigi.

There comes another whine of frustration and desire. Miss Gigi just laughs, her fingers ever so slowly squeezing. Deep within I feel the controlling hand of my temptress. My penis renews its futile effort to harden, the spikes of the cock cage again announcing themselves, the discomfort/pleasure of prostate manipulation jumbling the sensors of my cerebral cortex.

Evidencing the long morning to come, the fingers squeeze just a little more. I gasp feeling my insertion further balloon. Yes, the aura of her sense of power pervades. A droplet of fluid exudes to bead at the tip of my Prince’s Wand. An attentive Mia rushes to capture it with a tissue. Meanwhile, I glare with intense need and desire... feminine perfection unveiled, my gaze unfettered.

"So much more enjoyable than my pictures, don’t you think, Harold?"