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.”

“Had?”

“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.”