Saturday, October 15, 2016

A Trained Penis I

A new short story. Not sure how much I'll be posting.



A Trained Penis

Copyright 2016

by Chris Bellows
“CFNM... clothed female, naked male. And we had to drive 100 miles up the Hudson for this, Jack? My apartment wouldn’t do it for you?”

“The weather’s good, and the country is nice this time of year. And New York apartments... ah... well... can be confining.”

“Yeah, confining for this,” the words snickered.

With her retort, Molly shakes the leash. Her playful jostling brings a smile as she looks down, her exaggerated stare mocking my turgid reaction. I am erect... for her. At least that’s what my demented mind tells myself.

“You’re fortunate to have a secluded place for this Jack. Probably get arrested anywhere else. And I worry about my complicity... what local ordinances I’m breaking, leading you about cuffed and naked.”

“It’s private property. Many acres, George has been purchasing adjacent parcels, so we can walk a ways. There’s a high point... with a nice view.”

Wrists cuffed behind my back, I nod in the general direction.

“Who’s leading whom? You’ll follow the leash. I just might take you to the main road and tie you off. You can waggle your erection for the passing cars,” Molly’s tone turning stern.

I so much enjoy it when she gets into her role. It’s... well... fulfilling.

Still Molly tugs in the suggested direction. As a photographer... amateur but accomplished... she likes good vistas. On this cloudless perfectly sunny day, I know it will please her... and I want to please.

“George have any idea what you do here when you visit his old farm.”

“No. Just a weekend out of the City. Told him you’d enjoy the scenery... you’d be taking pictures.”

“So I’m the beard. Molly wants to use her camera. Nothing about cuffs, collars, leashes and the lack of clothing. And didn’t you pack anything to wear? Thought we’d at least go to dinner.”

The rebuking words come as Molly casually strolls and I follow, doing my best in obedience by keeping tension off the leash.

My silence brings her to pause and peer back. She smiles anew, her free hand reaching for the digital camera about her neck. Proficiency attained, she snaps off a series, my erection I am sure centered in the frame.

“Very photogenic Jack. You were right to have me shave you. Lots of pink for the camera lens. But can’t you do that yourself?”

"Thought you’d enjoy that. Kind of a control thing.”

Molly nods, checking the photos for clarity then resuming, snapping the leash taut and seeming pleased to feel my head buck in response. Is she indeed enjoying her role? I so much hope so.

The trail ascends. I tell myself on the next journey to have footwear. Unbecoming, contrasting the thrill of total nakedness, sticks and pebbles bring pain and an awkward gait. My bare feet suffer.

Reaching the crest, I am heartened to see Molly beam in happiness. She somehow knows to tie off the leash, more and more readily accepting her role in continuing her aura of control and my sense of ownership. She sighs in giddiness reaching again for the camera. The view is breathtaking, this particular vantage point a major factor in closing the purchase of the aging farm... my friend George similarly impressed.         

“It’s lovely Jack,” turning the lens toward my bound nakedness and clicking away. “And I do believe you're getting harder.”

Her observation comes as she removes a canvas bag from her shoulder.

“Now. I don’t like the idea of you having so much freedom with your feet.”

Ankle cuffs! Black wrought iron, and a disturbingly short connecting chain. My heart leaps. Molly is readily stepping into her role. But wherever did she procure shackles?

“And I’d better get some lotion on you. The sun is strong. And your penis is so nicely exposed...”

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