To the Yukon
“Spent a lot of time on your makeup this morning Roberta. I think you like looking pretty for the flight crew.”
Roberta girlishly smiles with the compliment, the words momentarily allaying her fears. There will be another stint in the pink tent, fulfilling her role in comforting the Benchmark drilling crews based in some of the most remote and rugged areas of the world.
“You look worried, Roberta. You’ve been conditioned... well trained. You’ll perform for me. Yet you have concerns?” Miss Leona inquires.
“They’re brutes, Miss Leona. Very gruff men.”
“Yes, and that’s why they need attention... your special attention. You’ll calm them... sucking, bending, spreading,” Leona beaming in thinking about the intensity of the humiliation. “The foreman... forewoman... is Margie Stenson. As I explained, in time all supervising personnel at Benchmark will be women. She will watch over you, make sure the big nasty roustabouts don’t hurt you. But do stay lubricated, Roberta. You know it’s for the best.”
There comes the toot of a car horn.
“That’s Jabari. Be obedient. You know how much she’d like to cane your buttocks.
Roberta nods in concurrence. She has no doubt about that.
Harriet rises from the kitchen table, stepping forth to give Roberta a farewell hug. She then steps back, pill bottle in hand, shaking ominously.
“These will be here when you return, Roberta. I’m still waiting for you to ask... two hundred milligrams. I want to place the cyproterone acetate on your tongue, Roberta. And I’ll also have something for you to wash it down. Twice per day.”
For over a month, Roberta has summoned the moxie to decline the anti androgens. Though not offered this morning, travel obviating the start of the required twice daily regimen, the mental and emotional pressure, to surrender remaining masculinity, continues.
Harriet then lifts the hem of Roberta’s short red satin skirt, unlocking the long chain used to restrain during household duties and clipping a leash to the testicle rings.
“I’ll walk you to the car,” Leona taking the leash.
“Must I... ah... you know?” Roberta nodding to the length of leather.
“Always, Roberta. Feminine governance. It’s best for you. Deep within you revel in it... and you’d be in a funk without it... like an abandoned puppy.”
To the livingroom, Leona leads, Roberta’s matching red heels tapping in tow. She picks up a small travel bag then steps out the front door. Jabari waits with the company limousine. Leona hands over the leash.
“Good morning pretty girl. Permitted to wear clothing. A big day for you,” Jabari greets, speaking to Roberta as one would a little girl.
“Make sure she’s under control at all times, Jabari,” Leona reaching under the gaudy skirt to pinch a right cheek, fingers then smoothing about to check the protruding flange of a sizable anal plug.
The finger work brings Roberta to lurch, her many bells ringing. Jabai laughs.
“Of course, Leona, your girl wouldn’t want it any other way.”
Leona then hands over the travel bag.
“Not much clothing,” Jabari noting the bag’s lightness.
“Oh, no clothing. Roberta won’t be needing any. It’s cosmetics, hair stuff... and lubricant. Lots and lots of lubricant,” chuckling with the revelation.
As Jabari stows the bag, there comes a departing hug, Roberta expressing genuine affection in wrapping her arms about she who governs, feeling the bump of little Chester pressed to her stomach.
“Come,” Jabari gruffly tugging to bring a stab of pain.
Into the back of the limousine, Robert is again strapped in place, made completely immobile. She can’t help thinking, Miss Leona’s words bringing psychosomatic comfort. Does she indeed feel better when a woman tightly binds?
The journey to the airport is swift, Jabari skilled and aggressive in her driving. Left to her own, Roberta mulls. There are conflicting thoughts. Left behind is the drudgery of keeping house, preparing meals, the seemingly endless nights in the steel cage, listening in darkness as Miss Leona and Miss Harriet make love. But ahead is another stint in the pink tent, to offer herself to roustabouts unknown. In Zolanda, as humiliating as it was to be introduced to the protocol of the pink tent, at least his/her circumstances were known to the drilling crew. No introductions needed... no explanation as to his/her obscured gender. Now, in the Yukon, he’ll be ‘recreating’ with men unknown. It will be cold. He reflects on Miss Leona’s comments about the travel bag... no clothing.
But why is it she would expect any? She has spent the last six weeks in nakedness... bound most of the day by a lengthy yet restrictive chain. And then caged for evenings of rest. Which bring more thoughts... how quickly and easily she learned to accept her confinement... with the sounds of Sapphic love making ending... oddly sleeping soundly after her brisk nightlypegging... the hormonal release of prostate manipulation bringing quiescence.
The limousine pulls to a stop at the Benchmark Oil hanger. Roberta looks out the car window to see flight attendant Marissa, young and assertive, waiting near the entrance door. As Jabari opens and steps from behind the wheel, Marissa... Miss Marissa... steps forward. She greets in eagerness. Having flown under the girl’s tutelage, Roberta is aware of her enjoyment of governance.
Wherever does Miss Leona find for employment such brash young girls?
“I’ll take her,” Roberta chagrined to hear the enthusiasm in the flight attendant’s voice as Jabari opens the rear door. “Is she leashed?”
Jabari chuckles, “Of course. Roberta does not move without some form of restraint.”
Robert is unstrapped, Marissa taking the leash as Jabari guides from the car. She giggles in hearing chiming, giving the leash a shake to assure the testicle bells remain.
“So pretty, Roberta.”
Roberta has come to develop skills... makeup, hair, nails. She blushes which brings more blushing with the cognition over her effeminate reaction. A peculiar loop.
“To Dawson City, Roberta,” Marissa speaking as if taking a child to Disney World. “It must be so exciting for you,” turning and tugging.
Into the hanger, Marissa leads, Jabari follows light travel bag in hand. The sleek Falcon jet awaits, Roberta grateful not needing to walk out onto the tarmac.
“I’ll take her luggage,” Marissa stopping at the jet’s stairway.
Jabari hands over the simple bag.
“That’s it?”
“Clothing not needed,” Jabari smirking as Marissa immediately understands the implications.
“Well pretty girl. It will be cold in the Yukon. I think you’re going to need to snuggle with someone,” Marissa somewhat implying knowledge of the pink tent activities.
There comes an odd interval... silence, no movement, Roberta not led the few steps to embark. After a time Marissa shrugs. Her free hand extending, brazenly going to Roberta’s chest, squeezing a pierced nipple through the cloth.
“The Captain says you’ll feel better... be more comfortable. Though it’s a pretty blouse, I like the ruffling. And I love the color of your skirt... but...”
“Strip,” Jabari finally intercedes.
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