I pause in my story. Salads finished, it’s time for the roast chicken with steamed vegetables. In mentioning the document... the confidentiality agreement... it dawns that I am about to break it... if not already in breech. I rise from the table.
“So that’s it?” Rhodi inquires in amused frustration. “A naked boy strolling about with a hard on?”
“No, Rhodi. But there are things I am not to tell you... some of which I have already told... said too much. Can you assure me none of this leaves the room. Is only between us?”
Rhodi smiles wickedly. Naked males repulse her... but the story intrigues. She knows she must agree. So she nods.
“I have to know where this is going, Joanie. Back in my college days the sorority tried this CFNM thing... a party... clothed females naked males. I skipped that one... as you can imagine.”
“You and I have similar penchants, Rhodi. We’ve proven that to each other. But the CFNM thing... as you term it... can be empowering... even if the sight of cock disgusts. Of that I can assure you.”
I serve the meal. Rhodi takes a bite, hums her approval and swears to silence.
“So...” eager for me to continue.
“You have to open your mind a bit. Not all things are black or white. You of all people... queer... should understand that.”
“Of course.”
“Well, let me start by saying not all heterosexual guys abstain from having... let’s call it... sexual relations... with another guy. You know... things with a penis as you disparage the other sex.”
“So they’re bi,” Rhodi shrugs.
“Bisexual would suggest a degree of affection. I’d say what I encountered is well outside expressing affection. It’s about resentment, revenge, a need to conquer, to rise and triumph. The sexual conquest of another male... a thing with a penis.”
“Wow, strong words.”
“You’re a woman of color, Rhodi... no need to remind. But does not any of what I said strike you... ping some inner feelings?”
Rhodi turns to silence. But I know her, know her intimately. I note she presses together her knees. Squeezing her thighs. She does that when come the twinges of preliminary arousal. She’s getting wet.
“What does my ethnicity have to do with your story?”
“Because the group of eccentric men funding St. Sapphos were... are... black... wealthy... powerful... ruthless... and black.”
“And these beneficiaries?”
“As I encountered on that first day... all blonde and blue eyed... and needless to say... Caucasian. Want more? First a trigger warning, Rhodi... lots of penis... many things with a penis.”
She smiles wickedly and again nods.
I have her.
*****
I signed the confidentiality agreement. Was it the free education? The first rung on a ladder leading out of the pit of poverty? It was so beautiful... sunny...warm... the air filled with the scent of the Caribbean. That is what I told myself... the justification. But that encounter with the nurse handler Monica... leading about a naked boy... beneficiary. Well, I could sense her power. And after I signed the agreement there was more. More governing women... more naked boys... beneficiaries... in training, as Vasiliki was to explain.
“Our beneficiaries are trained to please. We have a process, requiring many years, much supervision... feminine supervision... and the development of many skills,” Vasiliki speaking as she led me about. “You’ll see some things that may disturb you... initially. But the reason we term our boys beneficiaries is that at the end of many years of mental, emotional, and physical adaptation they are better for it. They benefit... and they will please... a Master... have a home... food... shelter. Think of it as grooming a show horse. Much effort put into an exacting process.”
We stroll down a long hallway, doors to the left and right.
“Let’s have a peek. You will see beneficiaries in various stages of training. And you must understand, we use the male sexual urges, which as you are aware are blunt and self centered even at early ages. We transform such... over time. Masturbation to start. The boys are taught that the joy of orgasms are to be shared, initially with a handler.”
We pause. Vasiliki slides back a panel covering a window looking into a barren room. Inside stands a naked boy. Sitting on a stool is a young woman, uniformed in white as was Monica. The boy faces her and I must say there was shock in seeing him stroke himself. The woman is talking. I cannot hear but Vasiliki explains.
“Very early training. He’s masturbating at her instructions. Encouraging words, that she wants to see him spew his goo. Notice she smiles, making the beneficiary comfortable with her watching, guiding, relieving the boy of any inhibitions concerning touching himself and pleasing himself. This will go on daily for a week or two. Then the beneficiary is to learn that such self centered pleasure is to be shared... with other beneficiaries as well as his handler. And don’t be shy, Joan, they can’t see you. It’s one way mirrored glass.”
The panel is slid closed. Vasiliki leads to the next room. And yes, there is progression. Two handlers, two naked beneficiaries. More masturbation. I am quickly acclimating to the otherwise sordid scene, comforting myself in that the window is one way glass, I cannot be seen and, having forced myself to look at the first stop, I now freely gawk and assess.
Beneficiary one reaches to stroke beneficiary number two, while two reaches and strokes number one. The handlers are smiling. I cannot hear but they are no doubt spurring on the hand action.
“I’d take you further down the hall, but you get the gist of the progression. You may come to enjoy watching the beneficiaries suck each other. Positioned in the so termed sixty-nine position, in stage three comes fellatio training. You’ll find it to be a very important skill on St. Sappho. Save that for later, you’ll be seeing and supervising quite a lot of that.”
Vasiliki turns, back toward her office.
“Why is it the handlers must having nursing skills? So I assume from the uniforms.”
“In later stages knowledge of anatomy... the male anatomy... is... well... not essential but helpful. And the beneficiaries are to receive the best of care. Remember my show horse analogy. You’ll note that no hair is permitted... other than eyebrows and head. Handlers supervise depilation. And later stage beneficiaries have... ah... certain modifications which are best overseen by handlers with medical skills. The feet... the urethra. And you will note that despite the sunny climate, the beneficiaries are keep as white as snow. It’s a thing with the benefactors... and maximizes a beneficiary’s value. So every day they’re slathered head to toe with sun block... pink parts included. Then there’s the need to assure regular bowel movements and squeaky clean rectums.”
I am overwhelmed, it goes without saying. Thankfully Vasiliki moves on to less prurient matters. But there is still alarm.
“The beneficiaries receive much classroom instruction. Reading and writing, no one wants an illiterate house girl. There’s also cooking, laundering, sewing, cleaning... every household skill a Master would demand.”
“Excuse me, Vasiliki... did you say house girl?”
“Oh yes. I was about get to that. Cosmetology is essential. A beneficiary must learn to make himself look very pretty.”
I had not the wherewithal to inquire about the term ‘Master’.
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