Snippet from 'The Gynecocracy of the Phipps Estate'

'Transformed', 'Maid Service at the Phipps Estate', 'To Reign at the Phipps Estate',
and now this snippet from the fourth installment of the Phipps Estate legacy... 'The Gynecocracy of the Phipps Estate'

To be published soon...

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Copyright 2019

by Chris Bellows


Marsha Devine

The second semester of law school begins at Cancadia University. The first semester I finished at the top of my class. My parents are proud. For me, within there is a feeling of merely achieving expectations. What other results would come to a girl with my intellect and determination?

Yes, I’ve been learning the law. But of more interest... somewhat exhilarating... has been the introduction to Miss Taylor Phipps and the fascinating world of the Phipps Estate... a turn of the century... 19th century... mansion with hundreds of acres of manicured grounds. Yet as idyllic as is the setting, it’s the ambiance that brings thrill.

For here women rule. The chatelaine, Miss Taylor Phipps, dictates that the male be subordinate. And in being a tribadist since my teen years, I never realized men could be so useful. I suppose just as one does not have to love cars in order to benefit from the convenience... I have learned it is also possible to advantage myself of the so termed beta male... beasts with the drawback of having a penis... but still able to bring the comfort of abject servitude.   

Amazingly, the husband of Taylor Phipps, Maximilian... Maxine... serves as the household maid! Long relieved of normal husbandly duties, something happened where his testicles... now the gonads of Taylor Phipps... were deemed superfluous for his role and are now ornaments! Encased in Lucite such dangle from a bright pink withered scrotum, tiny bells attached to chime as she... we’ve been encouraged to use the feminine... moves about the house, being constantly reminded of her alteration. Thoroughly obedient, she rarely speaks, serves totally naked... a tiny blue apron donned during our first visit deemed unnecessary.

Thus the penis, no longer functioning other than to drain the bladder, is fully displayed at all times. And in being so limp and tiny it tends to empower the women of the house. It certainly does not threaten as a symbol of normal male virility.

And then there are the breasts. Such are not those of a girl... but certainly not masculine. The nipples protrude and cute blue ribbons draw attention... unwanted or not... to glands I have been told were brought to secrete for a time! To lactate!

Yes, the dullness of learning the law is frequently abridged at the Phipps Estate. Particularly with classmate Redmond Richards and the attentive care afforded as he too attends law school.      

Breakfast is over. Taylor Phipps has returned to her room with a third cup of coffee. Friend Zoey has departed to shower, soap and hot water beckoning after her extensive early morning workout. Thus the naked maid Maxine hurriedly removes the cups, saucers and dishes. Morning ablutions are next. I turn to Miss Eve... nurse and disciplinarian.

“I’d like to watch. I just can’t... you know... pull myself away,” my hand going to her hers, hopefully not to be interpreted as a Sapphic inducement.

“Marsha,” the tone pedantic, “This is the Phipps Estate. What a woman wants... a woman gets. What a woman enjoys, the male will provide. The close circuit cameras don’t fully portray things.... I know.”

Owner Taylor Phipps has cameras, ostensibly to monitor... for safety... when the male is kept in tight bondage. This includes the study room where my cohort Redmond Richard hangs in full body suspension, his bedroom where he lies at night, held completely immobile by the Segufix restraint system... an amazingly elaborate and ineluctable set of cuffs and straps... and the preparation room where daily the males are subjected to bath, shaving, full body inspection and internal cleansing.

And Eve is correct, the sounds, the feel, the sense of trauma, the emotions of having to cede to the supervising woman, are not adequately captured by the cameras. Thus my request.

“Gag Redmond, take him to the prep room and strap him down for me. I’ll join you when Maxine finishes cleaning up.”

Eve, some four to five years younger, is not my superior within the household. But when it comes to the exacting care afforded the beta males... she is in charge. I nod, feeling sanguine. It’s a wonderful start to the day.

I look to Redmond, kneeling at the kitchen table. He’s bound, stainless steel elbow bands connected to a slim chain of matching metal which slips between his thighs and leads to the control ring of his chastity device. The locking tube is not worn within the house... the constricting cone which encapsulates his penis... so he’s pleasantly erect for me... me and the other ladies of the house. Having been hand fed... arms not fully mobile... the close attention of the directing female brings arousal. And this brings tumescence... which leads to humiliation... which leads to more arousal and more firmness.

Such a pervert.

“Please no, Miss Marsha,” his hate for the gag bringing him to beg.

“Oh but yes, Redmond. You’re done eating and we need not hear from you. And one does not learn while one talks,” reminding that his sojourn at the Phipps Estate is to learn the law.

I arise from my chair, taking his gag from the table.

“Open for me. Be a good boy for your Miss Marsha.”

He does of course. And the simple bar of hard rubber is slipped into his mouth between his teeth, connecting straps quickly secured behind his head.

“Tight enough?” I chide.

He hums for me. Probably objecting. But it matters not.

I step back, reach forth and tousle his hair. Six foot three, blond, Redmond is an Adonis. Given a change in gender preference I would probably find him attractive.

“Come. Bath time,” unraveling his leash which has been wrapped about the table leg.

I pull briskly. He stands. With the opposing end of the leash being connected to the control ring at his pubes, I literally have him by the balls. His semi firm penis bobbles about. I am amused to see it becoming firmer... the supervising hand of a woman so thrilling for a boy of Redmond’s predilections.         

Out of the kitchen, to the stairs, I lead, Redmond must follow. I am wearing a flimsy robe and when I pause and turn at the top of the stairs to assure he negotiates the final steps, the folds part and I flash some of my nakedness... that which he covets but shall never ever have.

“Such a hound, Redmond,” doing nothing to right my attire. “Get you fixed like Maxine,” the threat known to be idle as his raison d’etre at the Phipps Estate is to humbly display his massive hard on for female enjoyment. I turn again, hearing him groan with desire into his gag. Into Eve’s bedroom then to the specially equipped adjoining bedroom converted into a huge bathing facility... among other uses.

“Tummy down,” pointing to a short vinyl covered bench where daily both he and Maxine kneel for morning ablutions.

I strap him down, removing the leash and testicle chain to cuff his wrists and ankles. It is the mandate of Taylor Phipps that the intact male... capable of masturbation... never be freed of bondage within the house. And so it is.

Redmond’s moan of apparent lust brings thoughts. Whereas I have Zoey, nightly bringing me to ecstasy... absolutely no desire for men... perhaps my disdain and need for dominion over the lowly male beast can be further augmented... the frequent canings becoming blase.

“Would you like to taste me sometime, Redmond?” my hand smoothing along his right cheek.

“Hmmpph.”

With the reply open to interpretation, I give it some thought... a tongue is a tongue. But a subordinate tongue and mouth can bring glee to a girl like me. Such wicked thoughts.

Yes, sometimes on a Saturday night when Zoey and I get bored, we pause in our love making and turn on the television. Switching the channel to Redmond’s bedroom, we’ll watch... in lust... in amusement... as Taylor takes her ride... mounting a well bound and amazingly erect Redmond and fucking him. He becomes a living dildo, hooded, spreadeagled to the extreme, pillows propped under his buttocks to assure his ten plus inches strive to touch the ceiling. I’ve learned it’s called the Cowgirl... changing to the reverse Cowgirl after several apparent orgasms.

Amazingly, Redmond does not ejaculate... the Hindu mantra of retain or pain tattooed... if not branded... into his mind. Past training has involved bastinado if pending climax is sensed.

He retains. Avoiding pain.

Thus when freed of his Steelworxx cock cage, his overflowing hormones bring him to stiffen... almost constantly.

And so comes this thought of having him taste me, envisioning him well restrained in his Segufix straps as with his owner... but not riding his many inches... penetration is not my thing as it is with Taylor... but instead riding his hooded head and face... nose mouth and lips left uncovered for breathing. 

Yes, the more I think about it the more the moisture flows... Redmond’s secured and obeisant nakedness augmenting my thoughts.

I often think about the arousal I sense in governing Redmond. I have no thoughts of affection for him... or any desire for things with a penis for that matter. Instead I suppose it’s the power... the power of sexual attraction. He wants me... probably more likely needs me. And that is something I can use... and that is what most pleases me.

The last time he was permitted to ejaculate, many weeks ago, he exploded at my command... untouched. Otherwise there was nothing to bring the ultimate in male stimulation other than his need to perform for women of authority and purpose. And it is so telling that he chose me to give the command. He wanted to cede, to succumb to... to... to whom... to what? Zoey is prettier, Pamela Harrison more physically imposing, Taylor Phipps literally owns him... the flagellatrix Eve provides the discipline and care he needs... yet he wanted to respond to my voice... my command.

Yes, he wants to capitulate to my authority... no one else’s.

Such ingrained submission... I suppose to intellectual superiority. Such opportunity for me.

I can offer guidance. I told him I will make him a lawyer... and I will... but I will make him into more than that. He’s malleable... easily molded.

My thoughts end as Eve enters, Maxine in hand.

“Did you want to cane him a little first?” Eve amused with my growing thirst for corporal punishment.

I hear Redmond moaning into his gag. He’s afraid. And he should be. For the notion brings me such exhilaration, his fate laid before me.

“No. Many classes on Monday. He’ll need to sit a lot. Plus our first group study meeting.”

Maxine knows to position herself tummy down on a similar vinyl covered bench. When strapped in place she is nose to nose with Redmond, the ignominy of the morning routine to be intimately shared.

Then the skilled and accomplished Eve begins, the naked and vulnerable male... and former male Maxine... subjected to thorough feminine inspection and subjugation. It begins with being anally impaled... a stout inflatable enema nozzle for each... tubing leading to a large single enema bag which Eve fills with soapy water.

“I know you most enjoy this,” stringing the tubing to me, offering the valves, to be cradled in right hand and left. “Just pay no attention to the moaning and groaning. You decide how much... when to pause... when to continue.”

Just a wonderful sense of control... releasing the flow as Eve hoses the duo with warm water, bare hands beginning to soap and lave... both cleansing and inspecting. I note that Maxine, despite the pending discomfort, cranes her pretty head and kisses Redmond, licking about his face, her homophobia quashed with the wifely neutering and the daily hormone injections.

Redmond finds disgust. Despite the partial fellatio Maxine provides, so often orally brought to full stand at Taylor’s whim, his homophobia remains. But in being thoroughly restrained, he must accept the attention... along with Eve’s palpating fingers... and the warm soapy flow entering him under the control of my hand. 

Slowly bloating, the moaning begins. Maxine pleads first... such a little girl. Within moments Redmond challenges his gag.

“What’s that? More Redmond? You know it’s so good for you... cleansed inside and out,” I mock, knowing full well of the intense pressure in his bowels... bestowed by me.

Well soaped, the daily shaving comes. The frequent defoliation is not needed... but being introduced to the blade deemed important.

‘Hair... it denotes masculinity,’ Taylor explained. ‘And the sharpness of the blade... it frightens... and it should. And that is best for subordination... each and every day subjected to such closeness... experiencing such vulnerability.’

A wise woman this Miss Taylor Phipps.

These are the times I suffer the gag as much as Redmond. I’d so much like to hear him beg. But such is the mandate... such is the protocol. When we want to hear from the beta male... the women of the house will decide... never him.

Maxine is shaven as well. Clever, after removing her little baubles... Taylor’s testicles... that Eve can so deftly whisk the blade about the shriveled empty scrotal sac.

Then it is rinse time... and with it expulsion. Eve looks to me for concurrence.

“A little more, Marsha? A little more suffering? It can be addictive,” nodding to the valves in my hands. “They can always take more. They think not. But it is your decision, not theirs. And it’s so humbling for them... taking so deep inside what you choose to give.”

It is true. I want to hear Redmond... watch him in such intense discomfort... so slowly building... see him chew through the hard rubber of his gag.  

“More Redmond? Blink your eyes for me.”