Sunday, December 13, 2020

Finding Lulu Stories

I posted a comment concerning 'Lulu' and explicit stories and thought I'd better reiterate in a general post. 

When searching for stories on Lulu you must inform the seller that you are of age in order to view 'explicit content'.

I have recently worked back and assured that all of my stuff is so designated, a recent capability with Lulu's new format. I have also placed the stories in the categories of fiction/erotica/BDSM which was not offered as a selection on the former Lulu publishing page ('Love & Relationships' was as close as I could categorize, not only somewhat ludicrous but leading to confusion and negative reviews).

If you go to 'search' on Lulu.com, click 'fiction', scroll down and at the extreme bottom left you will see a box to click, enabling you to see explicit stuff (putting in your birthday).

Thereafter searching for 'Chris Bellows' as author should give rise to a listing of my stuff.


Saturday, December 12, 2020

'Surrendering Maleness', Segment Three

This will be the last posted segment. A good holiday and Happy New Year to all.

CB 

*****

It’s Saturday night. I am in the townhouse of my keyholder, Joan Gifford. I visit weekly in the hopes that some evening she will deign to unlock me, a reward for my fastidious oral servitude. Yet she has relinquished the key to Dr. Susan Fromm, release needed for the procedure which will terminate my masculinity, the ultimate in capitulation to the superior gender.

So why am I here?

I bare myself, strap in place the waiting blue nylon cuffs and encircle my neck with the matching blue prosthetic neck collar. Then I wait, kneeling in silence, staring at the latex hood, wads of cotton and leash which will guide me about. My mind occupies itself... how many tonight... will there be new tastes... will I sense stronger orgasmic clenches... struggle for life sustaining air as a woman of purpose chooses to deny me in order to maximize her pleasure?

Finally the shapely and athletically trim Miss Joan descends from above, the ubiquitous white robe flipping about to flash her charms, the straps of her cunnilingus harness dangling to beckon my collar.

I know to respectfully bow my head.   

“I’m surprised you’ve chosen to visit Robert. You know I no longer have the key. You’ll now only be freed when you submit to Dr. Fromm,” the words coming as she takes my arms and guides my hands to my back.

She clips together my wrist cuffs, the bondage more symbolic at this point. I am completely obedient to her... to all women of authority. I must suppose she knows it makes me feel better, so yielding to her dominion, the submissive male psyche finding joy.

“A treat tonight. Though it will only be me, I want you to sample my cunny.”

The words bring a brisance. For many, many Saturdays my tongue and lips have solely savored the rosebud openings of so many, the treasure of warm moist and succulent flesh denied me. 

”Just a little. And I want you to know after Susan puts you in the penis pod you’ll be feasting. I’ll have the girls in for a soiree... and just maybe... if you’re a good boy... I won’t have you hooded. You can taste, you can see, you can adore... all the feminine flesh you can have Robert. Won’t that be nice? After all, you’ll be closer to being one of us... your penis forever tucked away... your ridiculous blue scrotum hidden... those little testicles never again to be seen... and growing littler and littler each and every day.”   

The words both horrify and excite. I curse this paraphilia!

So a reward... an inducement. Visit Dr. Fromm, finalize the descent into submission, cede my maleness... and all is mine. Saturday evenings of unbridled debauchery... as long as I am vicariously able to find pleasure in that of domineering women.

Plus the stress of late... at work. Strip searched and anally penetrated on arrival, diapered and polishing boots under the thumb of the seemingly kindly harridan Miss Wanda. Sans steel, such would end.

I glance down as Miss Joan prepares the cotton, stuffing right ear then left. I glare at the cage of steel, locked in place for so long. I am mindful of Miss Monique Von Buren, my initial keyholder... of the training... to pose for her... to perform... to release the nasty male sludge at the snap of her fingers... she who conditioned me... initiating impotency.

Finally relieved of maleness, ending the urges, accepting the realization of my proclivity... my role to please... never to be pleased... and I would be free. Nothing to ever again be locked away.

The tight blue latex hood is slipped over my head, hands tugging mightily. As Miss Joan’s fingers work to align the large opening for my nose and mouth, I most obsequiously thrust forth my tongue and lick... her digits... her palm. I want all of her, sense her joy, her pleasure. In reward, her free hand diddles my nipples, hypersensitive with the months of denial. She then covers my mouth and pinches closed my nostrils, a demonstration of her mastery. I will breathe again when she decides, no motion in resisting, not a flinch to suggest concern. I am hers. She takes, I give... reveling in the exchange of power... as does she.     


Saturday, December 5, 2020

'Surrendering Malesness', Segment Two

 I lie on the changing table in the vast office of CEO Ms. Mae Mallory. Having obediently removed my shirt... mandated to be completely exposed for the procedure... I raise my arms, hands to the back of my head then lift my legs, knees to my chest in the decubitus position... as assumed by infants. It is the matronly Miss Wanda who then changes me... when she deigns to release the huge prominent pin under my navel... proclaiming my status.

In waiting I feel the twinges begin, my somatic reaction consistent with the pending humiliation, my diaper absorbing more viscous fluid. I turn my head to see the women talking, looking at the computer screen behind Ms. Mae’s desk.

Finally Miss Wanda turns and approaches, fresh diaper and moist cleansing towel in hand. She unpins, folds away the soiled garment then pulls out from under my buttocks. I sense the cooling room air on warm moist skin... and the warped thrill of exposure, baring all to a fully clad woman. She smiles, somehow always sensing my quirky joy.

“Hairless as a new born, Robert. You tell us you do it for your keyholder. But I think otherwise,” one hand smoothing about, pinching here and there enjoying her dominion as I humbly lurch and twist about in response.

The free hand then palms the compressed blue flesh of my tattooed scrotum, using it to steady me as the moist towel begins cleansing. I hate it, the elderly woman’s strict maternal care...  but a part of me thrives in it. Also bringing distress is that the women know I thrive in it.  

My nipples are swabbed, an unnecessary element of the changing, but Miss Wanda knows in my advanced state of unending chastity the nubs have become hypersensitive, smiling anew in seeing the glands crinkle to her touch.

Ms. Mae rises from her computer to join us. Standing beside Miss Wanda she smiles radiantly, my complete subordination bringing an aura of calm confidence.

“Robert, are you expecting a date later? Your anus is gleaming... lubricated,” Ms. Mae mocks.

I cringe, knowing of the source yet not having an opportunity rectify.

“It’s security, Ma’am... you know... the morning search.”

Ms. Mae smiles as she sees me squirm with the disclosure. I am sure it is she who has advised a morning cavity search be included in passing through building security. After the steel of my cock cage sets off the metal detector, each morning I am escorted to a small side room off the building lobby and stripped naked, hands pawing everywhere as I am commanded to remain motionless and each garment is examined. My cock cage is closely inspected and a mammoth black woman... lubricant and gloves at the ready... has me bend and spread... sizable fingers deeply inserted for a thorough probe of my anus.   

The security began last week and each morning the woman seems to go deeper and spend more moments within me.

I don’t think I shall ever grow accustomed to it. 

“Well Robert, your Dr. Fromm sent me an email this morning. She says your keyholder has relented and that a penis pod has arrived... tiny and pink. I have a picture of it. It will make you nice and smooth down there. Completely end all frustrating masculine thoughts of pleasing a woman other than orally... and make you able to get through security without some nasty woman stripping you naked and penetrating you with her fingers.”

The words bring both concern... for what remains of my manly pride... and strange joy.

“No more lump of hideous steel. No more searches... but I’m sure the guard would accommodate if you feel the need to submit to her.”   

Drat the women know so much of my deviance!

“You are going to schedule an appointment... to see the doctor.”

Taking Ms. Mae’s hint, Miss Wanda begins swabbing my crevice, cleansing me of the abundant lubricant. Her touch feels disturbingly good.

“Well I need to give it thought... the procedure... and will need some time off.”

“My boots can go a few days without a good licking. Take some vacation days. It is best you do it, Robert. To have a woman of competence and authority finally end the urges... the absurd notion that you will ever please a woman with your penis.”

Miss Wanda places the towlet aside and lays a clean diaper on the table. I know to curl up, further lifting my buttocks as she slips the soft cloth beneath and deftly folds over and pins in place. I am chagrined as always how warm and comfortable it makes me feel... the governing women bringing a sense of safety and protection. It’s been only three weeks in my new role, and the drudgery is becoming oddly acceptable, the tutelage of both Ms. Mae and Miss Wanda welcomed.

Rising from the table I begin to grasp my shirt to dress. Ms. Mae’s hand gestures to stop then points to the floor. I know to lower myself. Yes, her boots need licking. I must wonder if the woman in charge senses complementary joy in being so served by a nearly naked subservient male.

I go to my knees, bend at the waist and begin what has become a daily task as Ms. Mae regally stands over me running her fingers through my hair.

“No more haircuts, Robert. I’ll want your hair long and nicely styled for me.”