Monday, May 27, 2019

Second Snippet from 'To Reign at the Phipps Estate'

A belated posting. Been traveling. This is the last from 'To Reign at the Phipps Estate'

Redmond Richards

It’s another beautiful California day. Though newly out of college, no job, no responsibilities, I find myself arising early, deciding to surprise Mom by making breakfast.

To the shower, I celebrate, the day care free, feeling spirited in having been anointed with a college degree. Warm water, soap, and as is my usual morning routine, my hand strays. Just a few strokes, proud in bringing myself to firmness. Never to full climax, I save that for potential dates, though there have been few of late.

As usual I both rebuke myself and enjoy, asking why I am so shy with girls and need the comfort of my hand. At six foot three, athletic, one would think I’d be more of a magnet. But something in my deportment, my self awareness, that brings bashfulness. I suppose it’s because without dad, being long gone, there has been lacking a certain masculine influence that brings a more aggressive front when engaging the opposite sex.

Thoughts aside, I rinse. When I open the shower stall door, my surprise breakfast will not be. Instead it is I who is surprised, mildly shocked to see Mom standing there. Never shy to be naked in her presence, after all she’s been bathing me for years, still it’s startling. Then comes more surprise as I see her cell phone in hand and she begins clicking away.

“Mom!” I protest.

Distressed, I must ask myself... is it her presence... the taking of pictures... or the fact that I remain thoroughly erect?

“Still playing with yourself in the shower, Redmond? Tsk, tsk.”

“What are you doing?” quickly reaching for a towel which seems to have been disappeared.

“Arranging law school for you. You can have your towel... after you’ve calmed down... and have posed for me.”

“You can’t...” I sputter.

“I can. I am your mother. And I know what’s best for you. Besides, the pics will be from the neck down. Now stand facing me, arms at your sides... like the good boy I know I’ve raised. Then I’ll need profile shots, a shot of your backside... and lastly one with you nicely bent over touching your toes.”

I comply, always listening to Mom, grateful that my penis slowly deflates to temper the embarrassment.

“You’re going to be a lawyer, Redmond,” Mom’s enthusiasm countering my reluctance and concern.

Taylor Phipps

I have this sense of smugness in viewing the photos of this aspiring lawyer, Redmond Richards. It’s that women of our ilk have a certain mutual trust. I informed Pamela Harrison that I needed not to have any facial features in the photos I required... demanded. And I am sure when forwarding my request she passed that on to the assertive mother of my prospective boarder.

But as I postulate, since she is one of us, that certain trust is evident... that I will take care of her boy, maintain household discipline, and keep the extremely explicit photos confidential. For sure enough, the photo sets include the features of the handsome young blond, looking quite chagrined as he assumes the various poses for me.... stark naked... and deliciously wet. The gleam of freshly showered flesh adds a certain allure to the otherwise invigorating depictions.

Of course I focus on the penis. Clever of this Andrea woman to catch the lad surreptitiously playing with himself, no doubt in what he thought was the privacy of his morning shower.

Yes, a full erection, the tip pointing straight up, nicely rounded and shaped. Important, for not only is length required... any woman will tell you that... but in kneading the anterior fornix... the secret well hidden crevice adjacent the cervix... to bring deep vaginal orgasms the penis tip must be well plumped and engorged.

And the organ of this Redmond Richards is.

I feel wetness just looking at it!

So, it’s a deal. Tuition, room, board for him... for me a nice young and virile bull stud who will listen and obey... no more need for late Friday or Saturday nights of expensive dinners and wine... on occasion too much wine if my bull has certain reservations.

The next step, in addition to telling my cohort in feminine governance to have her boy plan his trip, is to ready one of the many bedrooms at the Phipps mansion. My boy will be strapped down at night, something about having full control over the male... and former male... that seems congruous with me as chatelaine of the estate. And therefore certain equipment needs to be acquired and installed.

I’ll want his room equipped with video cameras. He’ll need Eve’s care and I so much enthuse in monitoring. Plus there is the chastity I demand for the kept male. For this things need to be purchased. And I think I’ll talk to Dr. Rosen at the clinic... clinic for boys who want to be girls. My envisioned regimen will be a little out of her expertise, but establishing protocols and instilling acceptance in the prospective subordinate male is somewhat within her bailiwick.

So there is planning. But first I must return the text message of Andrea Richards, informing her of my acceptance.

    Thank you for the delightful photos, Andrea. You needed not to include the head and face. Your son has a nice penis. And the buttocks are well shaped, athletic. Curious you were so easily able to photograph him. I will take him in hand and provide for him while at Cancadia Law School, tuition included of course.

I add the latter for assurance, the tuition bills enormous... for her... probably less than a day’s interest and dividend income for the vast Phipps trust funds.

Within moments there comes a return text, the timing evidencing the excitement.

    He is my stepson, so I have always needed to be more assertive with him, stepping into the breech when his father died. And he’s been toying with himself in the shower since puberty. Like a typical male, he never realized I was fully aware of his disgusting habit. I suppose I have been lenient with him over the years in that respect. I hope he comports himself better for you.

I smile, wondering if I should inform her of the stainless steel, ineluctable chastity device I will be ordering... and at great cost. Instead, until I know for sure that she is one of us, I offer some moderate words of assurance.

    Here at the Phipps Estate I have a strict nurse on duty full time. No more showers. He will be bathed. Be pampered.       
And never touch his own penis again, I am wont to add... not while under my tutelage. But I’ll let this Redmond boy inform her of that.

    That seems wonderful and appropriate, Ms. Phipps. I’m sure he will be well cared for. I will text his travel arrangements and forward the first tuition bill. Pamela Harrison has given me your address.

So that’s it. Deal done. And the more I think about it, Redmond will need some closet space, though there is plenty in every one of the dozen or more bedrooms here. But instead I will enclose the cloak room at the front entry and put a lock on the door, making the space only accessible to she with the key. More responsibilities for Eve... but she so nicely enjoys her role here.

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 number of stories 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 efforts 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.