'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...

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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.