"Chained', Segment III

Josie Collier sits before a roaring fire sipping a glass of Merlot. As she thinks of the day’s events, particularly the culmination, a booted foot slides forth, the toe gently prodding the left bare buttock of her captive.

Such amusement. With young Jamie finally ceding, he removed everything, completely baring himself to her. She took her time, more inspecting and examining his nakedness than locking him in restraints. Right ankle, left ankle, the connecting chain just long enough to allow him to shuffle and prance... but of course not fully run. That would auger thoughts of freedom... that he could move about without sensing a woman’s control.

Left wrist, than right wrist, that connecting chain is shorter. There will not be... cannot be... any ill considered arm motion... such as throwing a punch. Unnecessary... more for emotional bondage than physical... there is a chain encircling the waist. Attached at the front is a very short chain leading to the chain of the wrist restraints. At the back a slightly longer chain hangs vertically, attached to the ankle chain.

Jamie can move... slowly... cautiously... but feel a woman’s power with every step.  

Well chained, Josie released the cuff attaching him to the SUV. She then tweaked his nipples in a demonstration of his helplessness and gave the command to prance the final two hundred yards to the house. She followed driving the SUV, bare buttocks... so cute and girlish... rippling in the headlights.

Young Jamie entered his new world well bound and without a stitch.

More twinges come as Josie thinks about it.   

An arm lowers, a hand grasping the shunned shirt, tossing into the blaze. Jamie needs warmth. What could be more ironic than to be comforted by a bonfire of the last evidence of living as a male.

“Are you awake, Jamie?”

“Yes.”

“That’s ‘yes Ma’am’ in your new home. I’m no longer your Aunt Josie.”

“What... who are you?”

“That’s ‘who am I, Ma’am’. More or less your owner.”

“Owner?”

“Yes. I’ve always had this thing... slavery... having a girl serve me... sexually and otherwise.”    

“But I’m not a girl.”

“For now. But that will change. How you think... how you act. You no longer have to maintain pretenses, Jamie... of being a boy... being a man. It’s just the two of us. No one knows you’re here. No one will look for you. You’ll be trained... conditioned... to serve.”

“I don’t want to do that. I’m not a girl.”

“We’ll make some... let’s term them adjustments. Your hair is already long. Not much more needed there. There will be some modifications... nothing extreme. I won’t tattoo you... or brand you.”

Josie pauses to smile, seeing her charge shudder, the threat of permanent marks striking fear.

“But something to remind you... always... of your role. I see you’re not circumcised. We’ll need to change that.”

More quaking... more glee for the new owner.

“Don’t worry, I’ll use something to quell the pain. But not entirely. It’s best that you watch what a women of resolve and determination can do to a boy. And feel the loss of course.”

Some ten years as a surgical nurse, Josephine Collier is too well aware of the simplicity in trimming the male foreskin. 

“It will temper your masturbation habit... for a while. Thereafter you’ll learn to bring yourself off differently... while I watch... and supervise.”

Having learned that young Jamie is sexually retarded for a boy in his late teens... no girlfriends... instead finding the opposing gender to be ‘strange’... engendering a new and different method of achieving gratification will be an effort... but not impossible. It’s like rewiring the pleasure centers of the mind. After all, an astute Josie Collier single handedly rewired the house.

“But such will be a reward... for good behavior... for obedient behavior.”

“Why me?”

An appropriate question. Josie hesitates, sipping her wine while contemplating a reply.

“Your mother. She was more than my roommate in college. She served me... sexually and otherwise. And as I said, you look like your mother.”

“You’re sick!” captive Jamie becoming insolent.

“No, I’m wealthy. That makes me eccentric. And being otherwise homeless and impoverished, makes you in need... of a woman’s care and guidance.”  

Josie tosses underpants and socks into the fire.

“You can go back to Brookline, Jamie. Just not to your home. The rent was past due when your folks got into the accident. There’s no inheritance to be had. I had to contribute to the funeral expenses. Things weren’t too promising for you when your mother and father were alive. And now?”

Slacks join the blaze.

“And if you were to go back, you’d need clothes. What you were wearing is now keeping you warm. How are your feet by the way?”

“Sore.”

“Prancing barefoot on the dirt and gravel can hurt. Your choice to leave. I’d lend you a skirt and blouse. But I have no shoes that would fit.”

“What about my running shoes?”

“The first things thrown on top of the logs. Much too masculine for you. So you’d need to get to the main road barefoot... in a skirt and blouse... then find a ride and talk your way back toward Boston. But best spend the night and try in the morning when it’s warmer.”

Josie hears whimpering, reality setting in. Homeless and orphaned, young Jamie is coming to grips with his level of dependency on the woman who had him strip naked and then placed him in bondage. And that dependency is total. Everything he needs is now hers to bestow.

“Roll over on your back, Jamie. Show me your penis... what you think makes you a man.”

Jamie hesitates. He knows he is in no position to defy. But her words come not as a command... but more an invitation.

“May as well begin to acclimate to exhibiting yourself to your superior,” Josie prodding with her boot.

Reluctantly, Jamie rolls. Josie smiles in hearing the clatter of the many links... all locked in place by her hand. Then she finds shyness was not the entire source of the delay. The tip of Jamie’s uncircumcised penis glistens, the foreskin partially retracted, the shaft somewhat engorged.

His ignominious display of pending erection brings thought. Something has spurred sexual excitement!

She has the right boy... girl!

“My, my, Jamie. Good thing that waist chain is tight. Otherwise I’d need to take precautions. Furtive masturbation is prohibited in this house. I’m sure you’re too bashful to tell me what prompted this,” arm extending, fingers going to gently fondle the underside of the firming penis.

“I’m sorry, Ma’am.”

“Oh, don’t be sorry,” noting the oh so slight grazing of her finger brings full erection. “You’re showing respect for your captor. A good first step. Devotion will follow. And I don’t think I’ll be needing to lend you a skirt and blouse for any trip back.

“Let’s get you measured, fed and bedded.”