'Semester Break at the Farm, the Phipps Estate Saga Continues'

More of the Phipps Estate saga

Enjoy

CB

*****

Semester Break at the Farm, the Phipps Estate Saga Continues

Copyright 2019

by Chris Bellows

Danielle Jackson

This Zoey Roberts friend of brother Todd is quite the photographer. She has graciously emailed numerous pics... all sordid... all debasing... and all in full color, high definition... visually chronicling Todd’s recreational pursuits... if that is the best term... while not attending law school and studying.

Quite humiliating for him. Yet there is no indication of protest, no resistance, no objection. I suppose I should not be surprised, having him so often strip naked for me and birching him in the barn. For then too there was no protest, resistance, or objection. Instead as puberty progressed into adolescence he would harden for me... me and sister Jackie... after a half hour or so of leisurely applied discipline. We ignored it at the time. But his libidinous reaction was duly noted.

And when months ago his classmate Marsha Devine called me asking that I take some photos of my own, there again came an inkling of things to come. Marsha briefly explained that a wealthy eccentric woman had been providing assistance to her and others with law school... that Todd was a candidate as well. And days later, after Todd called to announce that he was essentially on full scholarship, no longer even having to pay for dormitory and food, ignoring the excitement of being relieved of the burden, the nature of the photos requested of me should have spurred more thought... some questions.

Well now I have some answers... and will have more.

“So Todd, you’ve been doing some farming on your own...” I prompt.

Sister Jackie and I sit about the kitchen table, enjoying morning coffee served by our maid younger brother Todd. He’s naked. Having arisen quite early and likewise served Mom and Dad, the moment they departed.... Mom to a job many miles away... Dad out to the far off pastures... Todd knew to disrobe... no commands necessary... just a simple hint... ‘you know how we want you’.

He’s returned for the semester break in chastity, a very expensive and almost decorative device of shiny steel purchased by his benefactress, the wealthy woman paying tuition, room and board.   

The household duties began for him when he was an unruly teen. Though there’s much daily work to be done... man’s work... in raising sheep, an obstreperous Todd would dally, not focus, let things slacken. Plus in the Spring, when the young rams need to be castrated, a squeamish Todd just couldn’t take to it, a deed in which Jackie and I have reveled. It was decided that he work instead within the house where any slovenliness would not affect the family economics.

Failure to properly feed and water the sheep can be detrimental... particularly in not knowing what tasks have been skipped and when.

With meal preparation, household cleaning, laundry... all tasks assigned to a young Todd... there was the convenience that failure to timely perform all was immediately evident.

When the economics of sheep farming became tougher and tougher, sister Jackie and I replaced the hired help... the girls of the family needing to do man’s work because of Todd’s lack of focus. When such inattention continued, Mom and Dad deemed us... me and Jackie... to be in charge... of supervising the housework... and the discipline needed to assure its timely completion.

  

Yes, Jackie and I were relegated to farm work, annoyed that any opportunity for further education and a normal social life ended. The completion of high school brought the unending drudgery of tending to sheep. This annoyance grew and turned to envy when Todd finally became focused academically and Mom and Dad deemed him college material.

But his household responsibilities ceased not and Jackie and I decided to become more demanding... and more apt to discipline... as Todd’s educational prospects brightened.

Slight mishaps led to the denial of clothing. More significant transgressions led to trips to the barn. As Todd objected less and less and trips to the barn became more and more frequent, his household uniform became a frilly pink apron and nothing else.        

Jackie and I often furtively discussed Todd’s well cloaked disappointment in having to dress when Dad returned from the pastures. Did he truly enjoy our dominion, his naked servitude? 

The chastity cage is a surprise and would otherwise be considered a constraint on our enjoyment of birching him to the point of erection. But in a sealed package delivered to me I have found, along with an appropriate offering from his friend Marsha, a key. So if my assumption is correct, there is another surprise... that Jackie and I have been bestowed with the prerogative of emancipating Todd’s penis. It’s an empowering thought. But with it comes the notion... why bother? 

I hold up a photo of Todd in a leather harness. Sort of designed for that used to tether a draft animal, the thick wrist cuffs attached to a broad waist belt suggest otherwise.

“Hauling a cart loaded with pumpkins,” my voice pleasant, prodding him for more.

He nods, blushing as he refills my cup.

“Your buttocks... such prominent thin red stripes, Todd. The quirt I assume... the one you brought to us from Marsha?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what Todd?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Jackie and I have decided to insist on etiquette... to assure Todd’s obeisance and offer contrast to his prospects as a highfalutin lawyer.

“So your friend Marsha not only works you... but whips as well. What’s this thing... it’s like a metal rod... between your ass cheeks?”

As I slide the photo across the table to Jackie, Todd really blushes, his entire nakedness turning crimson. He turns away, ostensibly to return the coffee pot to the stove and wash some dishes, but I know better. He’s bashful, needing to collect his thoughts.

“It’s... well... this thing... used... ah... as part of the harness.”

“Just seems to disappear... the end I mean. Not part of your cock cage?”

“No Ma’am.” 

“There’s some goo coming from his penis tube,” an astute Jackie notes, staring at the photo. “You’re leaking stuff Todd.”

Jackie holds up the photo of Todd’s bound nakedness, waving it to summon him from the kitchen sink.

“What is it Todd?” my voice firming, my tone that used to presage trips to the barn.

“It’s... well... when a guy... ah... doesn’t use his... doesn’t have sex...”

“You mean masturbate?”

“Ah... yes... that too. Well the glands need to get rid of stuff.”

“You’re not oozing anything now,” Jackie, brazen as always, reaching forth to grasp the steel mesh cylinder of Todd’s cock cage for closer examination.

Jackie and I, working the farm, have not a lot of experience with the male gender. We’re not shy... certainly not virgins... it’s the dawn to dusk exhausting work which precludes social interaction. That and the fact that the nearest town is ten miles down the road. But there are the sheep. And in neutering some of the more mature rams, we’ve seen such stuff, sticky fluid. And indeed, Jackie knowingly nods to me. 

“The wethers don’t secrete like this,” she notes with a smirk, finally releasing Todd and pointing to the photo.

“Not after the elastrator. No more sloppiness,” I add with a laugh.

Todd, queasy as stated when it comes time to emasculate the young male sheep deemed to be beta... not likely to sire desirable lambs... begins fumbling about, unsteady hands clanking the dirty dishes. 

“So you’re not leaking now. Which I must suppose is explained by this photo.”

Todd’s blushing turns to apoplexy as I lay out the photo of mutual fellatio while he’s having his little fanny split open and rectum penetrated by a faux phallus of blue rubber.

“Looks exciting for you Todd... getting a blow job from some guy while being fucked. This is dated... two days ago... when you left Pittsburgh,” rather proud of my detective work.

“And explains why his little thing isn’t now as messy as in the other photo,” Jackie chimes in with glee.

“So I’m going to keep you locked up Todd. Your thing going to get sloppy? Should we get the elastrator ready?”

“That’s what this metal rod thing does, Danielle,” Jackie gushes, joining in the detective work. “It makes him ooze even more. Kind of like pumping the stuff from him.”

“Milking him,” I further add, envisioning the purpose of the curved bar of metal inserted within his gluteal cleft.  

  

With that I demand that Todd come to the kitchen table, place his hands to the back of his head, part his feet to present his entrapped male package, and tell us all, not only about his farming, but the curious bindings and enjoyment of his servitude... for we know he enjoyed.

'Tie Me Chicago' taken down

I have restricted the sale of 'Tie Me Chicago' on Lulu to 'Direct Sales'.

Anyone who has not read the story and has interest please email me at chris_bellows@hotmail.com.

After offering on Amazon the book got 'bushwhacked' by a reader who suggests in his review 'beware of the bait and switch' . Whatever that is, the comment infers that I am deceptive in my writing. Otherwise it is unexplained... further stating that the story  'started out prominence (sic) went off in a different direction and became very ordinary and boring'.

So it's no longer offered for public sale, lest I deceive others with my 'bait and switch'.

A peeve... when offering critical review, please explain yourself!

The story is over 18,000 words and required some two months of effort. 'Lyle S.' killed it in 21 words and probably 5 minutes.

Regards,

CB

Fourth snippet, 'Expanding Feminine Dominion at the Phipps Estate'

Todd Jackson - The Final Farm Days

“You’re going to strip naked and you’re going to join us in the barn.”

Sister Danielle’s authoritative tone is a throwback... to my teen days when I as a fractious lad was placed under her and sister Jackie’s auspices while mom and dad worked.

“That’s over, Danielle. I’m 23 years old and in law school.”

“Well, if you want to stay in law school and alleviate the financial burden you’ve put on all of us you’d better listen. When you gave your friend Marsha my phone number you must have known there was a reason she wanted it.”

I nod, Marsha succinctly explaining that talking to one of my sisters could result in the assistance I alluded to in yesterday’s phone conversation.

“So I have Jackie cutting a birch branch. And the whipping bench is ready. It’s not a sure thing, but your friend Marsha says it’s the first step... and there’s no skipping it. So I want you in the barn. And as I said I’ll want you naked... leave your clothes in the house. It’s a warm day.”

Another reversion to punishment days. If the weather was good, I was made to leave my only covering... my apron... behind and walk completely exposed to the barn. The farm is secluded yes. But the seemingly long walk validated my sister’s control, the threat of a delivery van or other interloper bringing quirky thrill.

I don’t fully understand what is happening, but sister Danielle is in earnest. And in referencing the financial burden of law school I remind myself that what little cash the farm generates has gone to my behalf... my sisters living in relative squalor in terms of their social lives.

So, my turn to help, my housework not putting money on the table.

Danielle departs. I disrobe. For some reason I dash to the barn, my shyness remaining. As I get to the door, a smirking sister Jackie greets, a thin birch branch in hand, stripped of all leaves and ready to chastise.

“You’ve grown hair,” not having seen my nakedness in years. 
 
I ignore, entering.

“What’s this about, Danielle?”

“Photos... required photos. But first we need to warm you up a bit. There’s a certain pose demanded... and we remember how nicely you took to having your buttocks whipped by a girl... don’t we Jackie?”

Jackie nods, handing the length of birch to Danielle then pointing to the short bench.

I become apoplectic, slowly complying in thought... kneeling, tummy down, thighs well separated. It was years before I understood the salacious view the pose offered my sisters, male plums swinging about. And I understand the reference... ‘how I took to having my buttocks whipped’. Yes, quite embarrassing... never discussed... but my sisters always noticed the state of my penis when I arose from a half dozen or more lashes of the searing birch branch. I became erect for them. In silence they would nod to each other, sparing me the ignominy of further discussion. But it is evident the memory remains.

Compounding the ignominy, sister Jackie would personalize the whipping. Sitting on a low stool facing me, I was made to extend my arms above my head, horizontal to the floor. She would take my hands, pulling vigorously. And as Danielle stroked away, she could sense my reaction to the agony, my hands clenching, my arms frantically pulling. I was made to look directly into her smiling face as she mocked my tears.

“Just some marks for the camera, Todd. Take Jackie’s hands now. It’s for the best. Then you will pose for us... full frontal... profile shots.. your backside... and my favorite... you’re going to bend over and touch your toes for us.” 

Stories in Paper

A reader took quite a bit of interest in my stuff and ordered a bunch of stories in paper format the other day.

As a reminder, I no longer format for paper on a regular basis. The time required is not productive unless I know someone has interest.

Therefore, if any reader so desires, drop a note (email or here on the blog) and I will so format. It requires about forty five minutes of my time and in the past few have sold in such format, probably 1% to 2 %.

Third snippet, 'Expanding Feminine Dominion at the Phipps Estate'

Marsha Devine - A Luncheon

Luncheon at Yvette’s, the favorite restaurant of Taylor Phipps. Expensive, but the huge Phipps trust funds gush cash faster than Taylor can spend it, law school tuition for me, Zoey and Redmond considered a pittance. And prospectively classmate Todd Jackson will join us.

We sit... a special booth in the back, quiet... secluded. Todd has texted me that he’s on his way. So I direct Redmond to sit next to me on my left, nurse Eve on his other side. Gagged, we’ll take turns watering him, pressing the straw of a squeeze bottle into his opening for air. Taylor has paused at the reception desk, talking to her good friend, owner Yvette.

“I hope it works out, Redmond. We’ll have our study group together more often. And you won’t be the only boy at the Estate with a fully functioning penis.”

The vast mansion can easily accommodate another boarder. Taylor, Eve, Zoey, Maxine, Redmond and I do not utilize even half the bedrooms. So for chatelaine Taylor Phipps the process will merely be tidying up another bedroom, most conveniently the one designated for Zoey which has gone unused. We sleep together.

I see Todd entering. I wave and he steps right by Taylor. She is unknown to him. That will change. He walks glumly, his smile rather forced. At the table I offer an enthusiastic greeting and introduce Eve.

“She’s a nurse, Todd. She makes sure all the boys are cared for and bathed.”

Todd nods, no sign of surprise, and looks at a silent Redmond, I must suppose expecting a similar greeting after three or more months of separation.

“You know of his gag, Todd. Well, it’s been decided he’ll be kept that way... other than feeding. It’s best for him. Keeps him obedient... and he’ll learn better.”

I do hope I am not scaring away the fish, so to speak. Todd is aware that Redmond’s been silenced... though in rethinking my words, probably not to the extent of the harshness we demand. Then I smile to myself... if the gag disturbs, wait until the endotracheal tube is put to use. But that’s for anther time.

Todd nods again and I gesture to a seat to my right.

“Taylor... Miss Taylor to you... will be right here. You just walked by her. How was your summer. Serving your sisters?”

I am aware of Todd’s assigned duties at the family farm. In his youth he performed for them in just an apron... mother and father at work, older sisters given authority to run the farm house.

“Ah... yes... summers are busy. So another hand helps.”

“In the kitchen,” clarifying his duties for Eve’s behalf. “And the laundry.”

Eve chuckles. Todd’s look of sheepishness quickly transforms as Taylor strolls to the table.

As Todd knows to respectfully stand to greet, I introduce. We all sit. Small talk ensues, drinks are ordered, Taylor specifying water for Todd, menus obtained.

“So Todd, it’s good to finally meet. Marsha has told me much about you,” Taylor quickly directing all conversation. “I understand you have a request. But first let me be assured that you’re aware of... let’s term it... the protocols of the Phipps Estate.”

“Well... Marsha has...”

“I believe you mean Miss Marsha,” Taylor sternly corrects, quickly establishing a protocol of respect for all things feminine. 

“Ah... yes... Miss Marsha has described some undertakings.”

I did indeed allude to certain aspects of living at the Phipps Estate when Todd was months ago invited for a weekend of study.

“More than undertakings, Todd. Boys with certain... let’s term it predilections... are immersed in an atmosphere that best suits their demeanor... their psychological needs. Known to us... women of authority... as beta males. Such are not esteemed in any manner... but can be useful.”

Drinks arrive. Conversation pauses, the timing adding to the gravitas of Taylor’s words.

“Now... your request, Todd.”

“I need help. Getting through law school. Financially. It’s been a strain... on my family... and the prospects of making things meet at the farm appear to becoming dimmer. So I know of your benevolence...”

Taylor holds up her hand, cutting Todd off. She nods to Eve. She reaches into an over the shoulder bag and produces a large envelope, sliding it to Taylor.

“Your sister Danielle texted me some photos, Todd. Had them printed out. Have you seen them?”

Todd fidgets, face aghast, blushing, head lowering.

“No.”

“But you’re aware of them, of course.” 
 
“Yes.”

“So tell me about them. You posed for her.”

Taylor is so masterful, the humiliation so intense, bringing Todd to tremble within moments of her initial introduction.

Without letting Todd see, she extracts the photos and passes such to me, leaving him in a quandary as to what precisely is being revealed as he must find a voice and speak.

'Expanding Feminine Dominion at the Phipps Estate' published

I have published the referenced story. $5.75, 37,700 words.

Available from me directly for $4.75 in PDF format, payment to Paypal.

Email Chris_bellows@hotmail.com for Paypal instructions.

http://www.lulu.com/content/e-book/expanding-feminine-dominion-at-the-phipps-estate/25045418

Second Snippet, 'Expanding Feminine Dominion at the Phipps estate'

Taylor Phipps - A Prospect

I hear the first few bars of Tchaikovsky’s first piano concerto. It’s my cell phone and it distracts from an entertaining display... my enjoyment of obectifying the male appendage.

I have aspiring lawyer Redmond Richards, naked as always, kneeling on the floor of the enclosed sun porch of the Phipps mansion. Feet and legs folded beneath, elbow bands secured together behind his back, at my command he leans back, lowering until his head touches the floor. He’s gloriously erect of course, such a priapic reaction to women of authority well ingrained. And his ten plus inches strive to touch the ceiling, prostatic fluid streaming as would the lava of a simmering volcano.

But this is a volcano which will not erupt. His summer employment at the clinic mandated certain injections by the noted Dr. Gehorchen which have obviated that... for the time being.

Having to address the distraction, I take another sip of wine then pull the phone from the pocket of my riding breeches. 

“Redmond, stay!” my sharp command turning my toy into a living sculpture.

Yes, objectification, the engorged male phallus surrendering to a woman’s lustful viewing.

“Hello.”

“Taylor, it’s Marsha.”

Another aspiring attorney, one with brains, assertiveness and fortitude, Marsha has completed her summer of clerking and will soon begin her second year of law school.

“Marsha, I trust my credit card is not over extended,” having lent it to the girl just hours ago for clothes shopping.

I jest of course, Marsha could purchase an entire chain of stores before her shopping efforts would be abridged by any financial constraints.

“Had to tell you, Taylor, I just spoke to Todd Jackson... you know the boy in our study group.”

“Yes the shy one... the farm boy who declined to visit us.”

“Yes. Well, his circumstances have changed. And he was kind of hinting that... well... he could use some financial help. And though not a direct request, he brought up our situation... your gracious help with Zoey, Redmond and me. So to be direct, would you consider another... ah... protege. Male?”

“So no visit... he’d be staying?”

“I assume so. Said something about hoping he could find someone who could offer the same... ah... support as Redmond.” 

That is considerable. Room, board and the tuition at Cancadia law school amounts to thousands per year. But then in thought... all boy toys are expensive... and a woman of my means can afford expensive toys. 

I know this Todd is aware of the ambiance of the Phipps Estate... some aspects of the ambiance... that Redmond is under strict feminine supervision at all times. So he must either be desperate... or like Redmond has secretive cravings... perhaps both.

“I’ll need photos, Marsha. You saw the poses that I demanded of Redmond... his stepmother quite responsive.”

Nude photos of the well built and well hung Redmond were most determinative in the decision to extend my generosity. And so it shall be with farm boy Todd.

“And if acceptable we should meet. I assume he’ll be returning to school soon. Set up a luncheon. But photos first. You can arrange that?”

There comes a pause, the cerebral cortex of the acuminous Marsha I am sure smoldering in thought.      

“I’ll get a phone number for his oldest sister. She’s... ah... one of us, as you like to say. At least I have every reason to believe she is. And she along with the entire family are more or less sacrificing for Todd’s benefit.”

“Tell her she can crop the facial features.”

I smile thinking of the last time I so instructed. Redmond’s face and head were plainly depicted in every nude photo sent.

An excited Marsha signs off, calls to be made, things to arrange. And I too am excited, my reign to be extended.

“Redmond, you may be finally sucking some cock here. It’s been an unfilled promise, I know.”

My well bound toy squirms in revulsion, gagged as always, no verbal reply possible.

'Expanding Feminine Dominion at the Phipps Estate'

Back to the Phipps Estate.

The sixth short story, extending the series.

'Transformed', 'Maid Service at the Phipps Estate', 'To Reign at the Phipps Estate', 'The Gynecocracy of the Phipps Estate', 'Summer at the Phipps Estate' and now...

*****

Expanding Feminine Dominion
at the Phipps Estate

Copyright 2019

by Chris Bellows

Prologue - Todd Jackson

“You used to serve us breakfast just wearing an apron,” my oldest sister Danielle chides.

“But now that you’re going to be some big shot lawyer you’re all dressed up. Hot in the kitchen, Todd, you sure you don’t want to take off some clothing?” sister Jackie joining in the sibling raillery.

Both my older sisters break out in laughter, reminding me of my younger days when, given the authority to supervise and punish, they would have me serve just about in the nude, frilly pink apron my only covering.

‘Near naked boys in girly clothes don’t make trouble,’ sister Danielle would solemnly advise.

Plus, such conveniently presented my buttocks for both playful smacks and more relevant chastisement if correction was deemed appropriate.  

The summer break is ending. I have been helping out about the farm since June, resuming my household duties, my labor somewhat compensating for the vast sums expended by my family in enabling me to attend law school.

Mom’s long gone off to work. Dad headed out to the back pasture of the farm before dawn. I make breakfast for the working help, as my father has deemed my sisters, constantly reminding that my efforts on the farm have consistently been deemed insignificant.

Yes, Danielle and Jackie help work the farm, mainly keeping things organized in the barn where hundreds of sheep need to be cared for and fed. That includes shearing the herd in early Spring and neutering the offspring June through August... the latter task bringing squeamishness in my adolescence. Thus since an early age I have been relegated to a position of domestic servitude... law school seeming to be my only escape.

I pour more coffee. Sister Danielle gently places her hand on my right cheek.

“Been awhile Todd. Want to join us in the barn, drop your pants, lie on the bench and spread for us? I think you miss it.”

In silence I turn and pour more for Jackie. They know me... too well. Deep within, I guess I do... miss it... the long walks to the barn, head down, knowing that Jackie was snipping slim branches from a birch tree while Danielle was readying a makeshift whipping bench.

Thighs widely parted, why did they insist on such a position of extreme exposure? I could feel my developing gonads swinging about while gaping at the elastrator, hanging on the barn wall, at the ready for the squeeze of a firm feminine hand, the release and snap of a small but life changing castrating ring of rubber.

Yes, her words bring the memories to cascade. Trauma... or quirky delight?

Thereafter, sans a shred of clothing, they had me complete my household chores... bearing their markings as I cleaned house and did laundry... while I hoped for an early return of either Mom or Dad to curtail their mischief. Or did I?

“You could have just run off, Todd,” Jackie reminds. “But you never did. You just walked into the barn and handed over your silly apron.”

“You thought Mom and Dad would intervene... I know you did. But did you really want them to? You never told them. Never said a word. What does that say Todd?” sister Danielle extending the derision.

Such does provoke thought. Am I grateful when sister Jackie changes the subject?

“Feed costs are up, the market price for lamb is not, Todd. Sheep ranching is getting even tighter. So you better get your degree and start making a living. You’ll never be productive here. You can’t handle the herd... more of a wether than a ram when it comes to a man’s work... though you’d probably like to put the apron back on forever.” 

“And nothing else,” Jackie again mocks, bringing Danielle to cackle.

I am aware of the dire economics, Dad having counseled me last night. Two more years of law school will require comparatively huge outlays of cash.

‘Find anyway you can to conserve funds, son. There’s no such thing as half a degree... not in the legal profession. So if we run short... another bad year in sheep farming... all we’ve invested in your education will be worthless.’    

So with my sisters forcing memories of feminine dominion, there comes a confluence of thoughts... of my assertive classmates Marsha Devine and Zoey Roberts. But more particularly of Redmond Richards and his circumstances at the Phipps Estate... room and board provided... and driving about in a flashy BMW.

But then I think about his forced silence... being gagged. More reflections rapidly unfold, Marsha’s invitation to visit... and her words...

‘It’s a special environment, Todd. A gynecocracy... women rule. Boys obey. You will not wear clothing... that provides dignity and can be a symbol of power. Things with a penis do not have such at the Phipps Estate.’

Have I not been subjected to such here at the farm? Then come Marsha’s further words of inducement...

‘Being a farm boy you can work the gardens. Yes, we’ll work you hard... have you sweat for us in the sun... make you feel happy that you are denied clothing.’

The visions bring attraction. Is it the prospect of free room and board... perhaps saving my parents from financial duress... or the so termed special environment? Which entices?

My thoughts are distracted when Danielle and Jackie arise from the table.

“To the barn... get some real work done. Clean up the dishes, Todd, tidy up the kitchen and do some laundry,” Danielle commands in a tone further spurring memories of being so long under her auspices.

“And take off your clothing if you’d like,” Jackie giggles in exiting the room.

I ignore the taunt, recalling that I have the cell phone number of classmate Marsha. I shall call her. Talk more of the Phipps Estate... talk about more than just a brief visit... learn of the benefactress Taylor Phipps... possible room and board.

And for some reason, during the conversation I feel inclined to take off my clothing.