Saturday, July 19, 2014

A Woman in Control - A good life gets better III

A good life gets better III

Harry the Horse is expected at 7:00 p.m. Since he is a guy’s guy I’ll not have Jack go overboard with fancy cooking. As I demanded, steaks will do, and Jack can show off with some zesty sauce... he does know a thing about flavors.

So I arrive home at six to inspect and freshen up for Harry’s arrival.

Jack is in the kitchen of course, he has no choice and must stay there, either waiting for me and the remote control or calling my cell to request permission to use the bathroom. Tonight will be a big night for Jack. He’s not been proximate when I have ridden a bull in the past, the Bed and Breakfast wedding night when I was two doors down fucking Randy with zeal was as physically close as he’s been.

I find Jack naked and barefoot, just as I like him, knowing to prepare without soiling his uniform. He is upset, apprehensive. Emotionally he survived the wedding and the serving of my guests brunch the following Sunday. He of course knew I fucked Randy... hard and often... in consummating our unorthodox vows. And his hooded head has been wedged between my thighs several nights per week since. But it’s been impersonal... just between me, his cuckolding wife... and my cuck, Jack. He licks, engulfs and swallows... I taunt and mock... offering some reminder zings to his cock cage to assure attentive oral servitude... describing the length and girth of the stiff cock I rode to satiation.

But now he’s going to meet Harry... and serve him... and in later tasting him put a face and personality with one of my bullstuds.

A normal man would find repulsion... would protest... perhaps threaten... but Jack is no longer a man. The doses of cyproterone acetate continue. Though most likely unnecessary, his testicles shrunken to nothing, I like the idea of feeding him his morning pill... like the idea that he is fully aware I castrated him... me and Dr. Helmstadt... I like the idea that his knowledge of chemistry offered full awareness of the slow but very effective process. And now I like the idea that he will serve... me and my bullstud.

“Everything in good stead?” I inquire pleasantly, pinching that cute butt which seems to get plumper weekly.

Jack squeals like a little girl, marinating two thick porterhouse steaks. He’ll have much bone to pick over tonight. Leftovers and a large glass of buttermilk are his standard fare at home, the latter plumping him nicely.

He turns, which offers my fingers opportunity to toy with those tender girlish nipples...  appearing prepubescent.

“I need to shower... and dress,” his manner glum.

“And makeup, Jack... along with the earrings I bought you.”

His look turns outright lugubrious.

“I thought I wore them for us.”

“For anyone I want to show them to, and show you to. Pour me the brew you selected then scoot,” I command, pushing the remote control to momentarily turn off the electrified dog barrier.

I replicated a set of gaudy but cheap rhinestone earrings displayed in one of the issues of ‘Men in Lace’. Curious how wearing such is of concern... drawing people into his secretive world of fantasy serves to fluster.

Jack scampers about, those buttocks rolling saucily. I take my brew and he prances to the bathroom... shower, makeup and skimpy maids uniform awaiting.

“And use the perfume,” I command as I settle in to relax.

The scent is strong and tawdry, cheap to match his earrings, stuff probably purchased by the quart  by $ 50 hookers.  

I move to the livingroom. As I sip I give some thought to this evening’s introduction. Months ago Randy Evans proved to be most open minded concerning the wedding and acting as best man. If there is one thing I have learned over the year, the male mind is more controlled by his penis than his brain. So in Randy knowing that the ceremony would be followed by sizzling, unbridled sex, there were no reservations expressed about his role. He just had to wear a tux and look virile, which is facile for any one of my bullstuds.

But with Harry the setting will be more intimate, as I intend. He knows I am married, but not to a chemically neutered ingenue whom I choose to keep naked and bound every night and most weekends. I do hope Jack’s proclivity and my exploitation of it does not disturb Harry. My quim really needs to be frictioned.    
My brew is deep and malty, perfect for a steak. Jack does know flavors, I realize as he calls out from the bedroom, requesting permission to step out.

Total feminine control... always.

I press the remote and reply ‘come’, momentarily suspending any electrical shock.

Into the livingroom comes my little serving maid.

Cute. In heels, sexy black stockings, a black skirt so short that there is an occasional glint of his steel cock cage. At the back, I had Jack alter it, cutting the hemline up to the waist. Nothing covers his girlish buttocks. I decided such were too precious not to be always shown. White apron, white blouse, a traditional cap.

The makeup is adequate but he gets better with every attempt. He smells like a hooker and the finger and toe nails... what a shocking crimson shade. Such a vixen is my Jack.

“Very pretty tonight, Jack, Harry will be impressed,” smiling wickedly as I watch him blush. 

Jack is both giddy and apprehensive, the hormonal confusion manifesting delightfully. A little girl wants to show off, a smidgen of remaining manliness urges concern. I suspect the little girl will prevail... and I have a remote which will assure it.

Jack skips to the kitchen, some final preparations. I glance at my watch then dash to the bedroom for a little preening. Harry will be on time, knowing he’s going to get laid, my command and control style found to be refreshing once or twice per month.

Within minutes the doorman calls to announce our visitor and with haste I change into something a little more comfortable and a lot more enticing... a very sheer negligee. A little early in the evening but I want Harry’s mind focused sooner rather later on the evening’s intended objective... unbridled copulation. 

Curious, but Jack has never seen me other than fully dressed. Gazing at my charms is deemed to be a privilege to be earned by those whom can avail themselves. Though Jack has asked... before the cyproterone acetate devastated his libido... I have not let him have the slightest peek. Now in being chemically neutered I suppose it is no longer a point of interest.

The doorbell rings. I press the remote to permit Jack to exit the kitchen. The bedroom door is open but I hear no taps of those dainty heels. I again pick up the remote pressing the button for a reminder ‘zing’. It is uncomfortable but tolerable, enough voltage to remind Jack that he is under the control of a woman, one who can deliver... and will deliver... a most debilitating shock to his withered scrotum and the steel Prince’s Wand insertion.

He is reluctant. I do not permit reluctance.

I press again, a punishment shock. I hear a wince then I hear the heels. Tonight when I bed him down, I will need to recharge his battery pack. It is apparent this new paradigm will require some voltage.

I hear the apartment door open to offer entry.

“Good evening, sir,” Jack’s high pitched voice greets.

Harry’s initial silence brings a smile. Exactly what is Jack? I read his mind. Finally Harry’s deep booming voice inquires.

“Desiree Montrove?”

“She is dressing sir, and you are expected. Please come in. May I get you a brew?”

Harry is a blue collar guy, not exactly the type for a summa cum laude Vassar girl. But his equine sobriquet is appropriate... and references a most desirable anatomical male attribute.

Jack taps back to the kitchen, his genital control device on suspension while he serves... prancing from kitchen to dining area and back. I step from the bedroom in my negligee. As stated it is sheer... diaphanous probably a more apropos term. Nipples press forth, the ruby red tips seeming to bleed through the flimsy white. Below, I am sure my mons makes an equivalent introduction.

Harry gapes then finds words.

“Looking good babe. Who’s the little doll?”

“That’s Jack. My husband. Though I am probably going to change it to Jackie.”

Harry nods, appreciating more the ‘open relationship’, which is really down and dirty cuckolding.

Jack’s little heels tap again, carrying a tray... two of the malty brews with frozen mugs.

“Head?” I inquire, referencing the pour of the brew but the double entendre setting the mood.

Harry smiles, “just a little, for now.”

Jack pauses, gazing at me with desire, not having before seen my charms. Then he finally curtsies just as I taught him. When he turns to return to the kitchen, Harry notices the missing portion of the short skirt, Jack’s cheeks rolling in distraction. He suppresses a smile, a macho guy not to find interest in viewing a forcibly transformed male... one time male. 

“Rather cute don’t you think, Harry? Castrated males make wonderful servants. Such devotion... and never a thought about any nastiness, like requesting inadequate sex. You know a girl like me likes it deep... and often. So what I am otherwise to do with Jackie?”

“Castrated?” Harry almost choking on the first sip of his brew.

“Neutered like a dog. I decided it was best for him. And he’s caged... down there. Keeps his mind off things long since past...”

Harry concentrates, focusing on a long draw, the soothing effect of alcohol deemed needed.

“Cooks wonderfully. Attentively cleans. He can sew... and teaching him proficient oral servitude is much easier... now that his mouth and tongue are his primary sex organs.”

As we exchange thoughts, we move to the livingroom, a chair for Harry, the couch for me.

Harry sits. I hope the stun of Jack’s introduction wears and does not effect his prowess. I really need some good stiffness tonight, and I need it hot... and deep.

Yes, I approximate Harry at nearly twelves inches. I judge by the amount of penis jutting forth above my hand when I grasp a man at the base to guide for insertion. There is more of Harry protruding above my thumb than any other lover.

We talk, Harry appreciating the fragrance of fine cooking as Jack prepares a special steak sauce. I decide to prime the pump, so to speak, patting the couch next to me. Harry knows to arise and move. All men are hounds when it comes to responding to gesture and receiving a treat. But no dog biscuit for Harry, instead just my hand, the one that has fostered my rapid rise within the Olivier Flavors and Fragrances hierarchy.

I reach to my right and smooth up and down at the zipper as Harry relates his day. I laugh inwardly, his voice cracking when certain hand motions become bold. Within moments, his slacks are tented, and with a man of Harry’s size the garment is strained and I am sure his manhood frustrated.

“Another brew, Jack,” I call out.

I hear the heels. Then comes a yelp. The setting on the remote has automatically returned to constrict and Jack has zapped himself trying to step from the kitchen. I reach out, grab the remote and press a button.

“You may come now, Jack.” 

A sheepish Jack enters with a tray, two brews and two frozen mugs.

“You hurt yourself. You need to be more careful.”

“Yes, ma’am,” a glum Jack replies serving then taking away the empties.

With his proximity he notes the amazing bulge in Harry the Horse’s slacks. His eyes become glued. I reach down and brashly stroke at the cloth as if masturbating.

“Been a while since you’ve seen one of these, Jack. It’s termed an erection in case you no longer remember. Yes, yours does not get hard any more... and never did like this... did it?”

Jack reddens in silence.

“Did it Jack? Answer me. Isn’t that right?” reaching for the remote, I administer a reminder shock.

Jack gets the message. He will answer or various levels of electricity will surge through his penis and balls until he falls to the carpet in agony.

“Yes ma’am, that is right. Never hard like that.”

“So why don’t you be polite and compliment Harry on his size and stiffness?” 

Jack pauses, gulps then stammers. Such a treat, the emotional stress.

“You’re... you’re... nicely sized, sir.”

I laugh most irritatingly.

“And its stiffness...”

“You’re very nicely stiff, sir.”

“Wouldn’t it be nice of Harry to share this with your wife, Jack?” reaching with both hands to cup the cloth covering the massive organ. “Since you can’t offer adequate vaginal penetration, perhaps Harry can accommodate. Ask him Jack. Ask Harry if he will be kind enough to fuck your wife.”

More pause. The flesh reddens more, Jack’s heart racing, circulation pounding. This is delicious. And though I so much appreciate Jack’s discomfort, the intense humiliation, I look to Harry. I am heartened to detect some furtive enjoyment.

“Sir, would you fuck my wife please?”

Harry laughs uproariously. He’s more than tolerating the cuckolding, he’s amused.

“Show him why, Jack. Put the tray down and show him why you need a real man to please your wife.”

With the front hem of the maid’s costume so abbreviated, it requires little effort to lift and display the steel cock cage. This also brings into plain sight the figure eight rings which anchor it in place and the pierced puff of flesh which once nestled Jack’s now emaciated testicles.   

“Not much to him, is there Harry? And what remains of his gender I keep locked and wired, always at the ready for a little electrical shock to modify his behavior. Though meek and docile, there sometimes comes the combativeness of a little girl... Jack’s attempt at getting attention,” I hold up the remote control as I explain.

“Perhaps Harry would like to give you some of that special attention, Jack. Would you like that? Just a short reminder shock so you remember your place.”

It is key that Jack subordinate his will to my cuckolds. He will serve them, admire them, obey them... though not every one of my well hung lovers will care to participate. Still Jack must know that they can, that they are all empowered... by me.

“This little button, Harry. If you ever find his behavior lacking, press here and his penis and shriveled testicles will endure a 20 volt charge. Not much effect when applied elsewhere... but as a man I am sure you appreciate the sensitivity there.”

Harry nods and accepts the remote. I stroke that incredible cloth covered penis as encouragement. Jack, having not received any commands, remains standing before the couch, holding up the hem of his maid uniform to offer a most humiliating display if his entrapped organs.

“Here?” Harry seeking assurance.

I nod, the finger presses, and Jack stifles a wince.

“There are more powerful settings when he’s a very bad boy... or tries to exit where I have him working for me.”

Harry hands back the remote with a look of perplexity.

“It’s essentially a dog restraint system adapted for boys like Jack. The rooms are wired. He stays where I want him until I decide it is time to move.”

I do believe Harry is getting into the exchange of power. That makes for a good night of entertainment.

“Jack, put the steaks on and bring the salad to the table. We’ll eat first and then I think Harry wants to take you up on your offer. Look how big he’s become,” my hands reaching to once again tent the bulge and highlight it’s size.

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