'Chained', Segment I

New story, inspired by some books written by author Sam Beattie. Well done stuff, Female Dominant/male submissive, non consensual D/s. Heavy bondage. But the theme of each book is repetitive.

I suspected that 'Sam' must be female, her descriptions of the male protagonist being fondled she terms as 'abuse' (guys getting off don't think of it that way) and the forced cross dressing scenes are described in a level of detail which most guys lack.

Sure enough my suspicion was confirmed when I encountered a story written under the nom de plum 'Samantha J Beattie'. Similar theme, similar writing style.

Well, enjoy.

CB   

***** 

Chained

Copyright 2023

by Chris Bellows

“Do you know who I am, Jamie?”

“You’re my Aunt Josie.”

“Yes, your mother referred to me as your aunt. But we weren’t truly related. We are... were... close friends. Went to college together.”

The remembrance brings pleasant thoughts to Josephine Collier... ‘Aunt Josie’. Yes when Josie terms the relationship ‘close’, it was more than an emotional bond. Many nights of entwined nakedness, dormitory room locked, the halls quiet as most classmates dated on weekend nights.

“We packed your things quickly. Did you tell anyone at the funeral where you were going?”

“No. I don’t know where. I didn’t know you were taking me back to the house.”

“It’s a long drive. Northern Maine. Since I was at the funeral it’s more convenient for me to take you now rather than come back.”

Josie returns to silence. She can’t help thinking that ‘taking’ Jamie has been so easy and so unnoted. Neighbors and friends are at the repast. Few if any know Josie, she won’t be missed. And they will conclude that Jamie’s absence is due to unfathomable grief and the need to be alone.

Once clear of the Boston area, the drive goes smoothly, little traffic. Josie decides to leave young Jamie to his thoughts, the tragic death of his mother and father... a car accident... for sure still overwhelming his mind. So overwhelming that he has not realized he’s essentially been kidnaped.

Yet, that’s not entirely the case, Josie’s subconscious counters. There are no living relatives to care for Jamie. Legally she could apply to be foster parent and probably be so appointed without objection. But why go through the time and legal expense... young Jamie left to the vagaries of the welfare system while living in some state run youth hostel in the interim.

No, the six hour drive to the seclusion of the Maine forests are best for him, she further justifies to herself. He’ll be away from an empty house... memories not to burden. And beyond the clutches of government bureaucracy.

“It gets cold there... colder than Brookline,” Jamie jarred from silence by the roadside sign ‘Welcome to Maine’.

“Yes it does.”

“Didn’t pack any winter stuff.”

Josie smiles. There was not much packed at all. What little was thrown into a small canvas pouch was more for show than for covering.

“You’ll have what you need... at my house. I have some things for you to wear for me.”

To wear... for her? The phraseology Jamie finds curious. Josie notes the perplexed look, her arm reaching, a hand going to the youthful golden locks and gently brushing about. The boy looks so much like his deceased mother.

“You look like your pretty mother, Jamie.  And you’re  going to look very pretty for me.”

*****

Nearing Bangor, Josie knows there will be fewer places to stop, gasoline stations and fast food restaurants sparse. She pulls off the interstate highway.

“Need fuel. And while we stop, why not walk over to the McDonald’s and get a burger or something.”

Pulling to the pump, Jose grabs her wallet and exits the SUV. Inserting first her credit card then the nozzle she slips a ten dollar bill from her wallet.

“Come Jamie. Get some food,” waving the bill. “We have three more hours so be quick about it.”

Jamie exits the car. He is glum. Such tragedy. But he is also in need. He takes the ten dollars and turns to the nearby restaurant. Soon out of sight, Josie opens the rear door, grabbing the small bag of clothing. 

‘There’s no going back,’ she thinks to herself. ‘Not for me... and certainly not for Jamie,’ tossing his clothing into a sizable rubbish barrel.           

Jamie returns, not noting the missing bag. While eating, the pump clicks off. Josie returns to the driver’s seat. Back to the interstate.

“Not much around,” Jamie notes, munching on his cheeseburger. “Except trees.”

“That’s why I like it up here... and you will too. And there will be more trees... and less ‘much’,” Josie quips.

Two more hours, and Jamie finds Josie to be correct. There is nothing. Finally pulling off the interstate, the SUV continues north on a state road, two lanes.

“You have a girlfriend, Jamie?” Josie needing to know just who and how much he will be missed. 

“No, not really.”

“You like girls? They must like you,” the long blond hair for sure to be found attractive.

“They’re... you know... kind of strange.”

Josie mulls over the observation. Spoken as would a boy of prepubescence... though not the case... young Jamie for sure must have the urges of surging hormones.

“So no one to call... no one to write to.”

Jamie shakes his head.

This may be easier than she imagined. The family home was rented. Jamie’s mother, being an old friend, frequently fessed up to being near broke. So an estate administrator won’t be seeking the prospective heir to a small fortune. Instead with limited funds, he’ll merely tidy things up quickly. There will an assumption concerning Jamie’s whereabouts... that someone took him under their wing... but no driving need to find out whom. And more importantly where.

Northern Maine. State parks... vast acres of logging land. Some camp sites. And much seclusion.

“So no girlfriend. You must masturbate,” Josie deciding to be more and more brazen as she approaches Jamie’s new home.

“I... I...” Jamie in shock, words not coming.

“Don’t be shy about it. All boys do it... though it’s not healthy.”

And girls too, but disclosing that would tend to bring a degree of comfort. She does not want that.

A few miles in silence, letting Jamie percolate.

“Does your penis spit stuff... when you masturbate?”

Stunned, Jamie can do no more than nod.  

“Well, we can’t have you spewing that nasty stuff in my home. At least not wherever you want. So we’ll need to... guess I’d call it... monitor your habit.”

Jamie bows his head. Josie does her best to cloak her smile. Deeper and deeper into the woods.... deeper and deeper into her clutches.

“So when you do that, your penis gets hard... and you stroke it. And you think about things.”

Another sheepish nod.

“What is it you think about?”

No reply. It seems even if Jamie could formulate the words, such would not pass through his tight throat.  

“You’ll be telling me. There will be much time at the Collier Preserve... much time together.”

More miles pass. An apoplectic Jamie notes there is now nothing other than fir trees. Nothing to prompt a change in the sordid subject matter. Finally his search for conversation leads to the unfamiliar term ‘preserve’. He inquires, his voice barely heard.

“A preserve is land a person owns, Jamie, but eventually gives to the government... kind of as a park. In my case when I die. But it remains wild... no development. I inherited it... more than one thousand acres. Beautiful... untouched since they logged it over one hundred years ago... and will forever remain unlogged.”

“But you can use it... like for hiking and stuff?”

Josie smiles, detecting the boy’s affinity for the outdoors.

“Most girls don’t enjoy hiking. But you’ll enjoy the view from the house.”

Jamie is perplexed again. His Aunt Josie infers something. Whether or not girls enjoy hiking... how is that pertinent?   

Silence resumes. Jamie feels a chill, wrapping his arms about himself to bring warmth. It’s mid September. In Brookline, Massachusetts the temperature remains most comfortable even though autumn nears. Here in northern Maine, having driven some three hundred miles, the setting sun brings cold.

“I can’t remember if you threw a jacket in the bag,” he comments.

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll have something to cover you... at the house,” Josie smiling that whatever was in the bag is no longer of consequence.

“How long... you know... will I be staying here? I was supposed to start at the community college.”

“You won’t need to think about college, Jamie. Anything you need to know you’ll learn from me... and some books and instructional videos I have.”

“What kind of books?”

“Cooking... etiquette... cosmetology... stuff girls like to learn.”

Again the inference.

“What’s cosmetology?”

“Beautification. You’ll learn to look pretty for me.”

More confused than concerned, Jamie responds... as would a boy.

“Think I’d rather go hiking.”

“No you wouldn’t. You’ll hurt your feet.”

“These running shoes are pretty comfortable.”

“I’m sure they are. But you’ll not be wearing them. Sort of a house rule.”

Josie again smiles to herself... wonting to add... ‘you won’t be wearing anything of your choosing’.