I am offering the completed manuscript on Lulu for those who wish to read ahead.
49,000 words. $6.00
The Sash (ID #15080764): http://www.lulu.com/content/e-book/the-sash/15080764
Although there is male on male interaction, I believe aficionados of the Femdom genre will be more than adequately entertained.
Enjoy.
CB
Sunday, August 10, 2014
Saturday, August 9, 2014
A Woman in Control - A good life gets better VI
A good life gets better VI
I fuck Harry, riding him like the bull he is. Lying supine on the hassock tends to enhance the penetration... at least seems to enhance the penetration. Knees bent with feet flat on the floor, hands and arms to the sides, head dangling off the top, Harry’s back is somewhat arched and thus those twelve inches stand straight toward the ceiling. I part the billowing negligee, straddle, grasp at the base, assessing the abundant length protruding above my hand as always, then guide the purple bulbous tip to greet my outer labia, engorged in anticipation. Vagina wet and slick, I then lower myself in glory, feeling the hotness, the slight friction as I open myself using Harry’s equine length and girth. Yes, girth. Probably more important for this girl is the intense frictioning of the vaginal walls and the resulting heat brought by the plumpness... bringing physical smoldering to join smoldering desire.
Fully impaled, I pause, teasing... tantalizing. I control all motion, including toying with Harry’s nipples. I smile, taunt in suggesting the need for further penetration, knowing that there is no more to be had... there is no more that can be taken.
Harry once talked during copulation. This I discouraged by shushing and delaying... demonstrating that all was under my governance... the timing... the motion... the squeezes... my pubo coccygeus muscles well tuned.
So in silence I begin to slowly buck. Harry’s moan of pleasure brings a smile. I turn my head, toward the spare bedroom, Jack’s chamber of bondage and sensory deprivation. There stands my husband, cautiously avoiding proximity to the frame. My smile broadens. My thighs contract to lift then relax to lower. Another moan. I wave a hello to Jack, a child greeting her father from the merry-go-round. He pouts, I purse my lips to blow him a kiss.
Then I concentrate. Though tormenting Jack is amusing, I shall not have it distract. A girl needs to take care of herself... for though it is important that a woman have a man who is a good lover, caring and attentive in bed... a well stuffed hassock will do just as well.
Up, down, up, down, time becomes meaningless. I no longer look to the bedroom, I know Jack watches... mesmerized? Perhaps there is some how the return of normal sexual desire, the libido some how restored after a constant deluge of anti androgens. But then what, Jack? Your penis is locked in a cage... and even if freed it will not ever again function... not like that of a man.
No, your role is to watch... and serve... and ogle in envy.
More thrusts, more squeezes, I feel oscillations. I reach down and tenderly pinch my clitoral hood, adding to the stimulation. Then my PC muscles go to work, adding a rippling sensation which I know my bullstuds so much enjoy. One final squeeze, a paroxysmal down thrust and I cry out in ecstasy, feeling Harry simultaneously explode deep within.
It will be a while before Jack can feast on that load, I think to myself, slumping to rest on Harry’s sweaty chest. My timing superb, the spunk splattered my cervix... at least so it felt... so I imagine. Yes, Jack will need patience in his oral efforts to gather and cleanse.
I fuck Harry, riding him like the bull he is. Lying supine on the hassock tends to enhance the penetration... at least seems to enhance the penetration. Knees bent with feet flat on the floor, hands and arms to the sides, head dangling off the top, Harry’s back is somewhat arched and thus those twelve inches stand straight toward the ceiling. I part the billowing negligee, straddle, grasp at the base, assessing the abundant length protruding above my hand as always, then guide the purple bulbous tip to greet my outer labia, engorged in anticipation. Vagina wet and slick, I then lower myself in glory, feeling the hotness, the slight friction as I open myself using Harry’s equine length and girth. Yes, girth. Probably more important for this girl is the intense frictioning of the vaginal walls and the resulting heat brought by the plumpness... bringing physical smoldering to join smoldering desire.
Fully impaled, I pause, teasing... tantalizing. I control all motion, including toying with Harry’s nipples. I smile, taunt in suggesting the need for further penetration, knowing that there is no more to be had... there is no more that can be taken.
Harry once talked during copulation. This I discouraged by shushing and delaying... demonstrating that all was under my governance... the timing... the motion... the squeezes... my pubo coccygeus muscles well tuned.
So in silence I begin to slowly buck. Harry’s moan of pleasure brings a smile. I turn my head, toward the spare bedroom, Jack’s chamber of bondage and sensory deprivation. There stands my husband, cautiously avoiding proximity to the frame. My smile broadens. My thighs contract to lift then relax to lower. Another moan. I wave a hello to Jack, a child greeting her father from the merry-go-round. He pouts, I purse my lips to blow him a kiss.
Then I concentrate. Though tormenting Jack is amusing, I shall not have it distract. A girl needs to take care of herself... for though it is important that a woman have a man who is a good lover, caring and attentive in bed... a well stuffed hassock will do just as well.
Up, down, up, down, time becomes meaningless. I no longer look to the bedroom, I know Jack watches... mesmerized? Perhaps there is some how the return of normal sexual desire, the libido some how restored after a constant deluge of anti androgens. But then what, Jack? Your penis is locked in a cage... and even if freed it will not ever again function... not like that of a man.
No, your role is to watch... and serve... and ogle in envy.
More thrusts, more squeezes, I feel oscillations. I reach down and tenderly pinch my clitoral hood, adding to the stimulation. Then my PC muscles go to work, adding a rippling sensation which I know my bullstuds so much enjoy. One final squeeze, a paroxysmal down thrust and I cry out in ecstasy, feeling Harry simultaneously explode deep within.
It will be a while before Jack can feast on that load, I think to myself, slumping to rest on Harry’s sweaty chest. My timing superb, the spunk splattered my cervix... at least so it felt... so I imagine. Yes, Jack will need patience in his oral efforts to gather and cleanse.
Wednesday, August 6, 2014
The Sash
The Sash
Copyright 2014
by Chris Bellows
“You said you’d like some covering... and I think it will make you look very pretty for us.”
The naked lad follows the doctor’s gaze, humbly turning his head to view the simple garment held by the white uniformed nurse. There is reluctant coyness, but the smoothness and bright coloring brings attraction... and a smile. The doctor’s transformation has brought odd reactions. Things frilly and feminine now attract... and seem to attract more and more each day.
“Must I wear it?” the high pitched voice timidly pleads, remnants of masculinity spontaneously objecting.
The woman’s brow furrows, the look of scorn bringing instant regret for the brief utterance suggesting unwillingness.
“You’ll wear what we want you to wear... or we’ll take away your shoes.”
The boy looks down in regret, peering at his sole attire... curious footwear which permits ambulation... plain high heels... yet extremely high heels... with supporting straps entwined about his smooth girlish calves. Since the doctor altered his feet, a medical procedure similar to the ancient Chinese custom of foot binding, the lad cannot stand, bones broken then reset to greatly curve the arches, toes permanently pointed. Without the special shoes, feet gnarled, he cannot even stand upright much less walk.
Thus he has learned he must either crawl about or beseech to wear his heels, the extremeness of such demanding much practice and careful balance. The denial of footwear has become simple punishment for simple misdeeds.
Crawling in nakedness can be cumbersome.
“Show Markie how he’s to don it, Nurse Benson.”
“Yes, doctor.”
The handsome but strict nurse, she who feeds, bathes and soothes... but is to be obeyed at all times... steps forth with the length of pink silk-like cloth. It is somewhat thick, six inches broad and several feet in length. At each end, the cloth is doubled over with decorative grommet holes, the ruggedness there belying the otherwise dainty appearance of the cloth.
“Part your feet for me, arms straight out to your sides,” the words pleasant but known to be a command.
Markie complies as the firm hands which so often palpate... everywhere... drape the middle of the garment over the lad’s head, encircling at the neck. She adjusts and there comes a brisance of delight as the smoothness is pulled over the shoulders to the front and drawn down to brush the extremely sensitive once male nipples.
Markie giggles. Goose bumps form with the sensuousness. This girlish response is new of late... since the doctor excised his testicles and the injections began.
Hands lower, slipping the two ends between the thighs, fingers pausing to teasingly diddle a tiny penis and empty scrotum. Over the many weeks Markie has come to thrill being touched there. The mocking gesture, reminding of his castration, no longer brings forlornness.
‘All gone,’ the nurse first whimsically announced when initially exploring there, pretending to search for that plucked away, kneading the thin sensitive flesh between thumb and forefinger. Now he merely needs to be touched to be reminded of the doctor’s plundering handiwork.
And the loss of male organs has become acceptable... somewhat.
“Hold still,” the nurse further commands as she steps to the lad’s rear.
There comes chagrin as the doubled length is bunched, pulled between the thighs then upwards, parting the buttocks, firmly occupying the gluteal cleft. The cheeks are left totally bare. A playful pinch to the right brings a girlish squeal.
The hands then move to the neck and push aside the long golden locks. Fingers work at the back of the head, pulling to slip the grommeted ends under the middle of the length at the back of the neck. Firm tugs remove all slack. When released, the lad feels compression, his naked form effectively entwined in a large knot. With some two feet of cloth freely dangling at the shoulder blades, the grommets hang nearly at the waist.
The nurse steps forth to again tug and tug, adjusting to apply more snugness, indeed knotting the length about the lad’s torso. She then returns to the front to assess. The pink silk forms a ‘V’, joining at the pubes, the budding nipples cloaked yet saucily outlined. At the rear the parallel lengths cleave the buttocks and run upwards along the spine, to be securely slipped under at the neck. Overall, the smooth bright pink serves to highlight the nakedness rather than veil.
“Comfy?”
Markie must nod. There is indeed strange comfort in being so delicately restrained. Though taut, the smoothness abrades the nipples, anus, penis and most convincingly the plundered scrotal sac.
“And we can still toy when we want to toy... a woman needs to have her way,” the doctor proclaims with a gesture to the nurse.
With that Nurse Benson steps forth, lowers her hand, fingers working to part the dual garment at the pubes. She draws into view the emaciated once male organ, the vestigial folds of scrotal flesh dangling below. She gently pinches the emptiness, pulling downward to prominently assure awareness... that despite the long coifed hair, manicured crimson nails, lipstick, rouge and mascara, the effeminate appearance of the lithe nakedness clad in pink results from the whim of a woman’s altering hand.
“See, you can be displayed quite facilely... whenever I want visitors to understand that you’re a castrated and feminized male.”
With the daunting words, Markie’s smile of delight slowly turns to glumness. Though there have been many weeks of psychological counseling, the mental transformation lags the physical transformation brought by the doctor’s exacting scalpel and quick snips.
The nurse notes the pending gloom, reaches behind and gently smooths her hand over rounded hairless buttocks. Her touch consoles and brings another giggle of delight, evidencing relief that her attention does not result in the sharp prick of the hypodermic needle that brings his daily hormone injection.
“Show Markie how practical is the sash, Nurse Benson. There are times when I’ll want you to perform for me, Markie... and my guests.”
The nurse reaches to take a dainty hand and directs to a corner of the doctor’s office den. The naked lad steps with aplomb, the doctor smiling in viewing the roll of effeminate cheeks, the gams of a pubescent girl. He has acclimated nicely, she proudly thinks, placing one foot before the other to pertly sway the hips... the fleshy buttocks so saucily quavering.
Not before noticed are a pair of thick but decorative cords from which hangs a large potted plant. The powerful nurse releases, lowers the plant to the floor and pushes forth a small stool.
“Step up, Markie. Be a good girl for me,” more pleasant words of command.
The lad cautiously complies, balancing on heels demands careful attention. He then learns of the grommet’s function, the nurse turning up the free ends of the sash and hooking such to the cords.
“I like to suspend girly boys from time to time,” the doctor notes. “It amuses.”
With that the nurse slips away the stool. Markie’s nakedness dips as the cords tighten and indeed his entire form becomes suspended in the room air. The sensation is bizarre yet comfortable, gravity further tightening the smooth silk-like sash, the sensitive nipples now more firmly pressured, as are perineum and anus. The clever length, so decorative yet so wickedly functional, envelops his torso, convincingly transmitting a message of feminine control The tiny penis flops about freely between the taut strips of silk, the empty scrotal sac well exhibited. But then, as the nurse stoops to unravel and remove the high heels, Markie feels something which has been deprived of him since the doctor altered.
He begins to stiffen!
Nurse Benson notes, smiling broadly, reaching up to again diddle the fleshy nest which once cradled tiny balls. The penis waggles with the pleasurable touch.
“Ha, ha, ha. You see Markie, there remains some anatomical maleness... and we know how to control it. It’s now for our pleasure... not for yours.”
Feet freed of the footwear... that which humiliates yet empowers with movement... Markie squirms about, curled toes searching for the floor. As his actions bring increased tension, he senses more tumescence.
“Yes, enjoy your hard on, Markie. After I reroute your urethral opening, forcing you to squat to pee, having it harden for me will be its only function.”
Though hands are free, Markie quickly realizes he cannot extricate himself. The loss of testosterone, the nurse’s sizable hormone injections, have depleted much strength. Gone is the ability to engage in the simple pull up which would offer relief and possible release. Still he tests, reaching behind and upwards to where the tight sash connects to the cords. He tugs. It is futile, his attempt fostering laughter as his efforts cause his nakedness to meekly swing about.
“Ha, ha, ha, our neutered plaything so much enjoys the humiliation does he not Nurse Benson?
“Why not play with your erection, Markie? You’ll not spurt and soil anything. I’ve ended that. And you’ll not be freed until I tire of the show. Go ahead. Give that little thing some strokes for me.”
Copyright 2014
by Chris Bellows
“You said you’d like some covering... and I think it will make you look very pretty for us.”
The naked lad follows the doctor’s gaze, humbly turning his head to view the simple garment held by the white uniformed nurse. There is reluctant coyness, but the smoothness and bright coloring brings attraction... and a smile. The doctor’s transformation has brought odd reactions. Things frilly and feminine now attract... and seem to attract more and more each day.
“Must I wear it?” the high pitched voice timidly pleads, remnants of masculinity spontaneously objecting.
The woman’s brow furrows, the look of scorn bringing instant regret for the brief utterance suggesting unwillingness.
“You’ll wear what we want you to wear... or we’ll take away your shoes.”
The boy looks down in regret, peering at his sole attire... curious footwear which permits ambulation... plain high heels... yet extremely high heels... with supporting straps entwined about his smooth girlish calves. Since the doctor altered his feet, a medical procedure similar to the ancient Chinese custom of foot binding, the lad cannot stand, bones broken then reset to greatly curve the arches, toes permanently pointed. Without the special shoes, feet gnarled, he cannot even stand upright much less walk.
Thus he has learned he must either crawl about or beseech to wear his heels, the extremeness of such demanding much practice and careful balance. The denial of footwear has become simple punishment for simple misdeeds.
Crawling in nakedness can be cumbersome.
“Show Markie how he’s to don it, Nurse Benson.”
“Yes, doctor.”
The handsome but strict nurse, she who feeds, bathes and soothes... but is to be obeyed at all times... steps forth with the length of pink silk-like cloth. It is somewhat thick, six inches broad and several feet in length. At each end, the cloth is doubled over with decorative grommet holes, the ruggedness there belying the otherwise dainty appearance of the cloth.
“Part your feet for me, arms straight out to your sides,” the words pleasant but known to be a command.
Markie complies as the firm hands which so often palpate... everywhere... drape the middle of the garment over the lad’s head, encircling at the neck. She adjusts and there comes a brisance of delight as the smoothness is pulled over the shoulders to the front and drawn down to brush the extremely sensitive once male nipples.
Markie giggles. Goose bumps form with the sensuousness. This girlish response is new of late... since the doctor excised his testicles and the injections began.
Hands lower, slipping the two ends between the thighs, fingers pausing to teasingly diddle a tiny penis and empty scrotum. Over the many weeks Markie has come to thrill being touched there. The mocking gesture, reminding of his castration, no longer brings forlornness.
‘All gone,’ the nurse first whimsically announced when initially exploring there, pretending to search for that plucked away, kneading the thin sensitive flesh between thumb and forefinger. Now he merely needs to be touched to be reminded of the doctor’s plundering handiwork.
And the loss of male organs has become acceptable... somewhat.
“Hold still,” the nurse further commands as she steps to the lad’s rear.
There comes chagrin as the doubled length is bunched, pulled between the thighs then upwards, parting the buttocks, firmly occupying the gluteal cleft. The cheeks are left totally bare. A playful pinch to the right brings a girlish squeal.
The hands then move to the neck and push aside the long golden locks. Fingers work at the back of the head, pulling to slip the grommeted ends under the middle of the length at the back of the neck. Firm tugs remove all slack. When released, the lad feels compression, his naked form effectively entwined in a large knot. With some two feet of cloth freely dangling at the shoulder blades, the grommets hang nearly at the waist.
The nurse steps forth to again tug and tug, adjusting to apply more snugness, indeed knotting the length about the lad’s torso. She then returns to the front to assess. The pink silk forms a ‘V’, joining at the pubes, the budding nipples cloaked yet saucily outlined. At the rear the parallel lengths cleave the buttocks and run upwards along the spine, to be securely slipped under at the neck. Overall, the smooth bright pink serves to highlight the nakedness rather than veil.
“Comfy?”
Markie must nod. There is indeed strange comfort in being so delicately restrained. Though taut, the smoothness abrades the nipples, anus, penis and most convincingly the plundered scrotal sac.
“And we can still toy when we want to toy... a woman needs to have her way,” the doctor proclaims with a gesture to the nurse.
With that Nurse Benson steps forth, lowers her hand, fingers working to part the dual garment at the pubes. She draws into view the emaciated once male organ, the vestigial folds of scrotal flesh dangling below. She gently pinches the emptiness, pulling downward to prominently assure awareness... that despite the long coifed hair, manicured crimson nails, lipstick, rouge and mascara, the effeminate appearance of the lithe nakedness clad in pink results from the whim of a woman’s altering hand.
“See, you can be displayed quite facilely... whenever I want visitors to understand that you’re a castrated and feminized male.”
With the daunting words, Markie’s smile of delight slowly turns to glumness. Though there have been many weeks of psychological counseling, the mental transformation lags the physical transformation brought by the doctor’s exacting scalpel and quick snips.
The nurse notes the pending gloom, reaches behind and gently smooths her hand over rounded hairless buttocks. Her touch consoles and brings another giggle of delight, evidencing relief that her attention does not result in the sharp prick of the hypodermic needle that brings his daily hormone injection.
“Show Markie how practical is the sash, Nurse Benson. There are times when I’ll want you to perform for me, Markie... and my guests.”
The nurse reaches to take a dainty hand and directs to a corner of the doctor’s office den. The naked lad steps with aplomb, the doctor smiling in viewing the roll of effeminate cheeks, the gams of a pubescent girl. He has acclimated nicely, she proudly thinks, placing one foot before the other to pertly sway the hips... the fleshy buttocks so saucily quavering.
Not before noticed are a pair of thick but decorative cords from which hangs a large potted plant. The powerful nurse releases, lowers the plant to the floor and pushes forth a small stool.
“Step up, Markie. Be a good girl for me,” more pleasant words of command.
The lad cautiously complies, balancing on heels demands careful attention. He then learns of the grommet’s function, the nurse turning up the free ends of the sash and hooking such to the cords.
“I like to suspend girly boys from time to time,” the doctor notes. “It amuses.”
With that the nurse slips away the stool. Markie’s nakedness dips as the cords tighten and indeed his entire form becomes suspended in the room air. The sensation is bizarre yet comfortable, gravity further tightening the smooth silk-like sash, the sensitive nipples now more firmly pressured, as are perineum and anus. The clever length, so decorative yet so wickedly functional, envelops his torso, convincingly transmitting a message of feminine control The tiny penis flops about freely between the taut strips of silk, the empty scrotal sac well exhibited. But then, as the nurse stoops to unravel and remove the high heels, Markie feels something which has been deprived of him since the doctor altered.
He begins to stiffen!
Nurse Benson notes, smiling broadly, reaching up to again diddle the fleshy nest which once cradled tiny balls. The penis waggles with the pleasurable touch.
“Ha, ha, ha. You see Markie, there remains some anatomical maleness... and we know how to control it. It’s now for our pleasure... not for yours.”
Feet freed of the footwear... that which humiliates yet empowers with movement... Markie squirms about, curled toes searching for the floor. As his actions bring increased tension, he senses more tumescence.
“Yes, enjoy your hard on, Markie. After I reroute your urethral opening, forcing you to squat to pee, having it harden for me will be its only function.”
Though hands are free, Markie quickly realizes he cannot extricate himself. The loss of testosterone, the nurse’s sizable hormone injections, have depleted much strength. Gone is the ability to engage in the simple pull up which would offer relief and possible release. Still he tests, reaching behind and upwards to where the tight sash connects to the cords. He tugs. It is futile, his attempt fostering laughter as his efforts cause his nakedness to meekly swing about.
“Ha, ha, ha, our neutered plaything so much enjoys the humiliation does he not Nurse Benson?
“Why not play with your erection, Markie? You’ll not spurt and soil anything. I’ve ended that. And you’ll not be freed until I tire of the show. Go ahead. Give that little thing some strokes for me.”
Saturday, August 2, 2014
A Woman in Control - A good life gets better V
A good life gets better V
“Go to your room, strip and put on your Posey cuffs,” I command.
“But I’m hungry Miss Desiree,” a dejected Jack beseeches.
“I’ll have something quite tasty for you later,” my evil grin giving away my intentions.
“Go. Harry and I want to be alone for a while.”
For dessert, there is ice cream and me. Harry’s libido is well primed, my negligee distracting despite the perfectly broiled steak. He wants to skip the ice cream.
So Jack, having cleared the table, curtsies and glumly departs as I press the remote to permit passage to the spare bedroom
“Time for my ride,” I suggest, never one to veil my desires. “You know how I want you.”
Harry is not a truckling subordinate like Jack, but he does cede to my wishes. Otherwise he does not get any... these are the rules... my rules.
Having gained comfort with Jack and my environment of absolute control, accepting Jack’s ingrained servility, Harry steps to the adjoining livingroom and begins to disrobe. I move to the spare bedroom to assure Jack is naked and has encircled his wrists and ankles with the Posey cuffs. When it becomes time to bed him down, I’ll want no untoward delay. I will snap my fingers, he will lie supine and the straps will retain him for the evening.
So I check, Jack is naked, the nylon strips are in place and I examine to make sure each is properly locked for the evening.
“The door will be open. You can listen, perhaps even watch if you’d like Jack. But do keep in mind your penis cage remains electrified.”
He’ll not depart the room. As he nears the doorway the charge activates, delivering a reminder zap. In stepping to the threshold he’ll receive a most debilitating shock, not to be physically endured without the loss of mobility. And overall it’s without real harm. Yes, I can zing Jack... or he can be disobedient and zing himself... any number of times. Each charge serving to modify his behavior without physical damage... which means more shocks can be applied. Delicious stuff.
Jack continues to gaze at my thinly veiled nakedness. Quite the treat for him. And if he cares to watch his wife fuck a real man, he’ll get more of a treat.
I turn to depart and see a naked Harry standing at the doorway. His semi swollen penis appears to be a swinging elephant trunk and I note Jack’s attention is finally diverted. Ah, the envy is palpable!
“He lives here?” Harry commenting on the austere chamber where Jack is kept nights and weekends... restrained ad infinitum.
There is nothing other than the narrow bed centered in the middle and the screen mounted on the ceiling where I have Jack gaze at the montages I created... the brainwashing slide show.
“It’s best for him. Once leaving work, I want all mental stimulus to come from me. He’s quite psychologically dependent at this point. The hormonal imbalance creates a need which he does not fully understand... a need for guidance... and a need to serve in gratitude for that guidance.”
I pat Jack’s head, his eyes glued to the elephantine appendage, and move toward Harry. There my left hand cups his heavy scrotum and my right lifts that massive appendage, swelling rapidly in anticipation. I display it to Jack for better viewing, smirking in imagining my husband’s thoughts.
“Time for the hassock... time for me to ride my horse.”
Harry’s huge hands move to the back of my head and draw forward my face for a kiss... wet and hot... and long.
“Good night for now, Jack,” turning to see the most priceless look of envy and want on Jack’s face. “I’ll be back later to tuck you in... and offer a nice snack.”
“Go to your room, strip and put on your Posey cuffs,” I command.
“But I’m hungry Miss Desiree,” a dejected Jack beseeches.
“I’ll have something quite tasty for you later,” my evil grin giving away my intentions.
“Go. Harry and I want to be alone for a while.”
For dessert, there is ice cream and me. Harry’s libido is well primed, my negligee distracting despite the perfectly broiled steak. He wants to skip the ice cream.
So Jack, having cleared the table, curtsies and glumly departs as I press the remote to permit passage to the spare bedroom
“Time for my ride,” I suggest, never one to veil my desires. “You know how I want you.”
Harry is not a truckling subordinate like Jack, but he does cede to my wishes. Otherwise he does not get any... these are the rules... my rules.
Having gained comfort with Jack and my environment of absolute control, accepting Jack’s ingrained servility, Harry steps to the adjoining livingroom and begins to disrobe. I move to the spare bedroom to assure Jack is naked and has encircled his wrists and ankles with the Posey cuffs. When it becomes time to bed him down, I’ll want no untoward delay. I will snap my fingers, he will lie supine and the straps will retain him for the evening.
So I check, Jack is naked, the nylon strips are in place and I examine to make sure each is properly locked for the evening.
“The door will be open. You can listen, perhaps even watch if you’d like Jack. But do keep in mind your penis cage remains electrified.”
He’ll not depart the room. As he nears the doorway the charge activates, delivering a reminder zap. In stepping to the threshold he’ll receive a most debilitating shock, not to be physically endured without the loss of mobility. And overall it’s without real harm. Yes, I can zing Jack... or he can be disobedient and zing himself... any number of times. Each charge serving to modify his behavior without physical damage... which means more shocks can be applied. Delicious stuff.
Jack continues to gaze at my thinly veiled nakedness. Quite the treat for him. And if he cares to watch his wife fuck a real man, he’ll get more of a treat.
I turn to depart and see a naked Harry standing at the doorway. His semi swollen penis appears to be a swinging elephant trunk and I note Jack’s attention is finally diverted. Ah, the envy is palpable!
“He lives here?” Harry commenting on the austere chamber where Jack is kept nights and weekends... restrained ad infinitum.
There is nothing other than the narrow bed centered in the middle and the screen mounted on the ceiling where I have Jack gaze at the montages I created... the brainwashing slide show.
“It’s best for him. Once leaving work, I want all mental stimulus to come from me. He’s quite psychologically dependent at this point. The hormonal imbalance creates a need which he does not fully understand... a need for guidance... and a need to serve in gratitude for that guidance.”
I pat Jack’s head, his eyes glued to the elephantine appendage, and move toward Harry. There my left hand cups his heavy scrotum and my right lifts that massive appendage, swelling rapidly in anticipation. I display it to Jack for better viewing, smirking in imagining my husband’s thoughts.
“Time for the hassock... time for me to ride my horse.”
Harry’s huge hands move to the back of my head and draw forward my face for a kiss... wet and hot... and long.
“Good night for now, Jack,” turning to see the most priceless look of envy and want on Jack’s face. “I’ll be back later to tuck you in... and offer a nice snack.”
Thursday, July 31, 2014
Next story... 'The Sash'
The number of visitors to the blog has been waning. Probably because many chose to purchase the 'Woman in Control' story and have read ahead. That's fine but it's not too uplifting for me to see a decline in interest.
So... beginning Wednesday August 6, I will begin posting another serial. This one involves much male on male interaction, so you homophobes be forewarned. It will continue on every Wednesday until 'Woman in Control' runs out at the end of September.
Hope you all appreciate my efforts. Paucity of comments of late.
Enjoy.
CB
So... beginning Wednesday August 6, I will begin posting another serial. This one involves much male on male interaction, so you homophobes be forewarned. It will continue on every Wednesday until 'Woman in Control' runs out at the end of September.
Hope you all appreciate my efforts. Paucity of comments of late.
Enjoy.
CB
Saturday, July 26, 2014
A Woman in Control - A good life gets better IV
A good life gets better IV
It is important that Jack no longer feel like a man, no longer think like a man. I have chemically ended his gender, but if he is to be a devoted servant, the emotional and intellectual maleness must also be truncated. Thus the seemingly harsh interaction with Harry... making Jack appreciate a man who can get it up... and appreciate that it is best that his wife avail herself of the exceptional talent... and best that Jack appreciate it as well.
Jack, you do want your wife to be happy... do you not?
So Harry becomes comfortable, I click the remote to permit Jack to prance to the kitchen and we move to the dining room. Salads are brought to the table, Jack serving with the skills of a high paid butler.
He returns to the kitchen to put on the steaks. Medium rare over a perfectly heated grill will require just minutes.
“He’ll be okay? Here? While we...” Harry muses.
“While we fuck,” I complete the thought. “He has no choice but to be okay. He’ll acclimate. I’m just tired of running out three to four times per week getting what he cannot offer.”
We munch, a tangy caesar salad, easy on the anchovies.
“I’ll bed him down. He’s sleeps well restrained and hooded. But I am thinking of offering a treat. You’re not overly shy are you, Harry?”
Harry laughs. He’s the type of guy who would perform in pornographic movies given the opportunity and the right paycheck. Harry has nothing about which to be shy... that I know from experience.
“No. What are your thoughts?”
“I want Jack to not only be frustrated but to also have no doubt about his place... that is to cook and clean for me, sew when necessary and graciously offer his tongue and lips when a girl... well when I girl most needs oral servitude.”
Harry nods. This is easier than I envisioned.
“So you saw that nice large and soft hassock in the livingroom. I want to ride you there... do my thing which you have come to enjoy... and I’ll put Jack in his bedroom. He cannot leave, it’s wired like all the other rooms.”
We munch more salad.
“So?” Harry not quite envisioning my wickedness.
“I’ll leave the door open. He will be able to watch... and will watch. I do not offer many opportunities for him to visually adore...”
As matter of fact there have been none, Jack always hooded when I straddle his head in need of oral attention... in need of the so termed cream pie clean up.
Harry smiles. “No guns around? The thought of getting shot by an enraged husband tends to amuse... but I’d like to delay that for my old age.”
I shake my head just as Jack brings in the thick porterhouse steaks, broiled to perfection with home made Maggi sauce on the side, Jack’s flavor expertise able to freshly duplicate the store brand. It smells fantastic. Yes, it is indeed important that a woman have a man who is a good organizer, neat, attentive about the household, cooking and cleaning with cheer. But a neutered man is even better.
Jack the butler serves again then humbly moves to stand in the corner to await orders and anticipate my needs.
“So, we’ll break in the hassock Harry? I ordered it special and Jack spent much time opening the seam at the top to add more stuffing. It’s nice and extra soft now. Jack can sew wonderfully.”
Masticating a tender morsel of beef, I look to see Jack bristle. I am sure he was aware of why I had him alter a brand new piece of furniture, but now the deed seems particularly libidinous... diligently laboring so his wife can better enjoy sex with another man... and he reacts in silent frustration.
As stated, I want my bullstuds to be completely motionless while I fuck them. So comfort is important, the better to just lie and let me hump away, angling and positioning the penetrating phallus just right... hitting my spots which when left to the male are never found.
I know it’s not how the likes of Harry and his cohorts most enjoy copulation, but in constantly rotating my bull studs it’s only once or twice per month and as stated, I’m not bad to look at... or feel... or to engage in an exchange of bodily fluids.
So Harry of course nods... then seems to have another concern.
“That cage... around his dick... can he get it off?”
I laugh. What a concern, that Jack may somehow join in the party.
“He does not have the key... nor do I. His care is left to a clinic... for boys like Jack with special needs. He’s unlocked, cleaned and shaven weekly... though the shaving is no longer much of a task... all covered by his health benefits. Keeping a neutered male healthy can be time consuming and expensive. The prostate demands particular attention... otherwise he drools about the house. Plus there is the weight gain. It’s expected and rather delightful to monitor. But one doesn’t want to over do it. Soft and voluptuous... that’s how I want Jack. I do not in any way want him feeling like a man.”
Harry smiles and nods. I do believe, in talking right in front of a silent and servile Jack, he is getting into the scene, so to speak.
Yes, that hassock beckons, doesn’t it Harry?
It is important that Jack no longer feel like a man, no longer think like a man. I have chemically ended his gender, but if he is to be a devoted servant, the emotional and intellectual maleness must also be truncated. Thus the seemingly harsh interaction with Harry... making Jack appreciate a man who can get it up... and appreciate that it is best that his wife avail herself of the exceptional talent... and best that Jack appreciate it as well.
Jack, you do want your wife to be happy... do you not?
So Harry becomes comfortable, I click the remote to permit Jack to prance to the kitchen and we move to the dining room. Salads are brought to the table, Jack serving with the skills of a high paid butler.
He returns to the kitchen to put on the steaks. Medium rare over a perfectly heated grill will require just minutes.
“He’ll be okay? Here? While we...” Harry muses.
“While we fuck,” I complete the thought. “He has no choice but to be okay. He’ll acclimate. I’m just tired of running out three to four times per week getting what he cannot offer.”
We munch, a tangy caesar salad, easy on the anchovies.
“I’ll bed him down. He’s sleeps well restrained and hooded. But I am thinking of offering a treat. You’re not overly shy are you, Harry?”
Harry laughs. He’s the type of guy who would perform in pornographic movies given the opportunity and the right paycheck. Harry has nothing about which to be shy... that I know from experience.
“No. What are your thoughts?”
“I want Jack to not only be frustrated but to also have no doubt about his place... that is to cook and clean for me, sew when necessary and graciously offer his tongue and lips when a girl... well when I girl most needs oral servitude.”
Harry nods. This is easier than I envisioned.
“So you saw that nice large and soft hassock in the livingroom. I want to ride you there... do my thing which you have come to enjoy... and I’ll put Jack in his bedroom. He cannot leave, it’s wired like all the other rooms.”
We munch more salad.
“So?” Harry not quite envisioning my wickedness.
“I’ll leave the door open. He will be able to watch... and will watch. I do not offer many opportunities for him to visually adore...”
As matter of fact there have been none, Jack always hooded when I straddle his head in need of oral attention... in need of the so termed cream pie clean up.
Harry smiles. “No guns around? The thought of getting shot by an enraged husband tends to amuse... but I’d like to delay that for my old age.”
I shake my head just as Jack brings in the thick porterhouse steaks, broiled to perfection with home made Maggi sauce on the side, Jack’s flavor expertise able to freshly duplicate the store brand. It smells fantastic. Yes, it is indeed important that a woman have a man who is a good organizer, neat, attentive about the household, cooking and cleaning with cheer. But a neutered man is even better.
Jack the butler serves again then humbly moves to stand in the corner to await orders and anticipate my needs.
“So, we’ll break in the hassock Harry? I ordered it special and Jack spent much time opening the seam at the top to add more stuffing. It’s nice and extra soft now. Jack can sew wonderfully.”
Masticating a tender morsel of beef, I look to see Jack bristle. I am sure he was aware of why I had him alter a brand new piece of furniture, but now the deed seems particularly libidinous... diligently laboring so his wife can better enjoy sex with another man... and he reacts in silent frustration.
As stated, I want my bullstuds to be completely motionless while I fuck them. So comfort is important, the better to just lie and let me hump away, angling and positioning the penetrating phallus just right... hitting my spots which when left to the male are never found.
I know it’s not how the likes of Harry and his cohorts most enjoy copulation, but in constantly rotating my bull studs it’s only once or twice per month and as stated, I’m not bad to look at... or feel... or to engage in an exchange of bodily fluids.
So Harry of course nods... then seems to have another concern.
“That cage... around his dick... can he get it off?”
I laugh. What a concern, that Jack may somehow join in the party.
“He does not have the key... nor do I. His care is left to a clinic... for boys like Jack with special needs. He’s unlocked, cleaned and shaven weekly... though the shaving is no longer much of a task... all covered by his health benefits. Keeping a neutered male healthy can be time consuming and expensive. The prostate demands particular attention... otherwise he drools about the house. Plus there is the weight gain. It’s expected and rather delightful to monitor. But one doesn’t want to over do it. Soft and voluptuous... that’s how I want Jack. I do not in any way want him feeling like a man.”
Harry smiles and nods. I do believe, in talking right in front of a silent and servile Jack, he is getting into the scene, so to speak.
Yes, that hassock beckons, doesn’t it Harry?
Saturday, July 19, 2014
A Woman in Control - A good life gets better III
A good life gets better III
Harry the Horse is expected at 7:00 p.m. Since he is a guy’s guy I’ll not have Jack go overboard with fancy cooking. As I demanded, steaks will do, and Jack can show off with some zesty sauce... he does know a thing about flavors.
So I arrive home at six to inspect and freshen up for Harry’s arrival.
Jack is in the kitchen of course, he has no choice and must stay there, either waiting for me and the remote control or calling my cell to request permission to use the bathroom. Tonight will be a big night for Jack. He’s not been proximate when I have ridden a bull in the past, the Bed and Breakfast wedding night when I was two doors down fucking Randy with zeal was as physically close as he’s been.
I find Jack naked and barefoot, just as I like him, knowing to prepare without soiling his uniform. He is upset, apprehensive. Emotionally he survived the wedding and the serving of my guests brunch the following Sunday. He of course knew I fucked Randy... hard and often... in consummating our unorthodox vows. And his hooded head has been wedged between my thighs several nights per week since. But it’s been impersonal... just between me, his cuckolding wife... and my cuck, Jack. He licks, engulfs and swallows... I taunt and mock... offering some reminder zings to his cock cage to assure attentive oral servitude... describing the length and girth of the stiff cock I rode to satiation.
But now he’s going to meet Harry... and serve him... and in later tasting him put a face and personality with one of my bullstuds.
A normal man would find repulsion... would protest... perhaps threaten... but Jack is no longer a man. The doses of cyproterone acetate continue. Though most likely unnecessary, his testicles shrunken to nothing, I like the idea of feeding him his morning pill... like the idea that he is fully aware I castrated him... me and Dr. Helmstadt... I like the idea that his knowledge of chemistry offered full awareness of the slow but very effective process. And now I like the idea that he will serve... me and my bullstud.
“Everything in good stead?” I inquire pleasantly, pinching that cute butt which seems to get plumper weekly.
Jack squeals like a little girl, marinating two thick porterhouse steaks. He’ll have much bone to pick over tonight. Leftovers and a large glass of buttermilk are his standard fare at home, the latter plumping him nicely.
He turns, which offers my fingers opportunity to toy with those tender girlish nipples... appearing prepubescent.
“I need to shower... and dress,” his manner glum.
“And makeup, Jack... along with the earrings I bought you.”
His look turns outright lugubrious.
“I thought I wore them for us.”
“For anyone I want to show them to, and show you to. Pour me the brew you selected then scoot,” I command, pushing the remote control to momentarily turn off the electrified dog barrier.
I replicated a set of gaudy but cheap rhinestone earrings displayed in one of the issues of ‘Men in Lace’. Curious how wearing such is of concern... drawing people into his secretive world of fantasy serves to fluster.
Jack scampers about, those buttocks rolling saucily. I take my brew and he prances to the bathroom... shower, makeup and skimpy maids uniform awaiting.
“And use the perfume,” I command as I settle in to relax.
The scent is strong and tawdry, cheap to match his earrings, stuff probably purchased by the quart by $ 50 hookers.
I move to the livingroom. As I sip I give some thought to this evening’s introduction. Months ago Randy Evans proved to be most open minded concerning the wedding and acting as best man. If there is one thing I have learned over the year, the male mind is more controlled by his penis than his brain. So in Randy knowing that the ceremony would be followed by sizzling, unbridled sex, there were no reservations expressed about his role. He just had to wear a tux and look virile, which is facile for any one of my bullstuds.
But with Harry the setting will be more intimate, as I intend. He knows I am married, but not to a chemically neutered ingenue whom I choose to keep naked and bound every night and most weekends. I do hope Jack’s proclivity and my exploitation of it does not disturb Harry. My quim really needs to be frictioned.
My brew is deep and malty, perfect for a steak. Jack does know flavors, I realize as he calls out from the bedroom, requesting permission to step out.
Total feminine control... always.
I press the remote and reply ‘come’, momentarily suspending any electrical shock.
Into the livingroom comes my little serving maid.
Cute. In heels, sexy black stockings, a black skirt so short that there is an occasional glint of his steel cock cage. At the back, I had Jack alter it, cutting the hemline up to the waist. Nothing covers his girlish buttocks. I decided such were too precious not to be always shown. White apron, white blouse, a traditional cap.
The makeup is adequate but he gets better with every attempt. He smells like a hooker and the finger and toe nails... what a shocking crimson shade. Such a vixen is my Jack.
“Very pretty tonight, Jack, Harry will be impressed,” smiling wickedly as I watch him blush.
Jack is both giddy and apprehensive, the hormonal confusion manifesting delightfully. A little girl wants to show off, a smidgen of remaining manliness urges concern. I suspect the little girl will prevail... and I have a remote which will assure it.
Jack skips to the kitchen, some final preparations. I glance at my watch then dash to the bedroom for a little preening. Harry will be on time, knowing he’s going to get laid, my command and control style found to be refreshing once or twice per month.
Within minutes the doorman calls to announce our visitor and with haste I change into something a little more comfortable and a lot more enticing... a very sheer negligee. A little early in the evening but I want Harry’s mind focused sooner rather later on the evening’s intended objective... unbridled copulation.
Curious, but Jack has never seen me other than fully dressed. Gazing at my charms is deemed to be a privilege to be earned by those whom can avail themselves. Though Jack has asked... before the cyproterone acetate devastated his libido... I have not let him have the slightest peek. Now in being chemically neutered I suppose it is no longer a point of interest.
The doorbell rings. I press the remote to permit Jack to exit the kitchen. The bedroom door is open but I hear no taps of those dainty heels. I again pick up the remote pressing the button for a reminder ‘zing’. It is uncomfortable but tolerable, enough voltage to remind Jack that he is under the control of a woman, one who can deliver... and will deliver... a most debilitating shock to his withered scrotum and the steel Prince’s Wand insertion.
He is reluctant. I do not permit reluctance.
I press again, a punishment shock. I hear a wince then I hear the heels. Tonight when I bed him down, I will need to recharge his battery pack. It is apparent this new paradigm will require some voltage.
I hear the apartment door open to offer entry.
“Good evening, sir,” Jack’s high pitched voice greets.
Harry’s initial silence brings a smile. Exactly what is Jack? I read his mind. Finally Harry’s deep booming voice inquires.
“Desiree Montrove?”
“She is dressing sir, and you are expected. Please come in. May I get you a brew?”
Harry is a blue collar guy, not exactly the type for a summa cum laude Vassar girl. But his equine sobriquet is appropriate... and references a most desirable anatomical male attribute.
Jack taps back to the kitchen, his genital control device on suspension while he serves... prancing from kitchen to dining area and back. I step from the bedroom in my negligee. As stated it is sheer... diaphanous probably a more apropos term. Nipples press forth, the ruby red tips seeming to bleed through the flimsy white. Below, I am sure my mons makes an equivalent introduction.
Harry gapes then finds words.
“Looking good babe. Who’s the little doll?”
“That’s Jack. My husband. Though I am probably going to change it to Jackie.”
Harry nods, appreciating more the ‘open relationship’, which is really down and dirty cuckolding.
Jack’s little heels tap again, carrying a tray... two of the malty brews with frozen mugs.
“Head?” I inquire, referencing the pour of the brew but the double entendre setting the mood.
Harry smiles, “just a little, for now.”
Jack pauses, gazing at me with desire, not having before seen my charms. Then he finally curtsies just as I taught him. When he turns to return to the kitchen, Harry notices the missing portion of the short skirt, Jack’s cheeks rolling in distraction. He suppresses a smile, a macho guy not to find interest in viewing a forcibly transformed male... one time male.
“Rather cute don’t you think, Harry? Castrated males make wonderful servants. Such devotion... and never a thought about any nastiness, like requesting inadequate sex. You know a girl like me likes it deep... and often. So what I am otherwise to do with Jackie?”
“Castrated?” Harry almost choking on the first sip of his brew.
“Neutered like a dog. I decided it was best for him. And he’s caged... down there. Keeps his mind off things long since past...”
Harry concentrates, focusing on a long draw, the soothing effect of alcohol deemed needed.
“Cooks wonderfully. Attentively cleans. He can sew... and teaching him proficient oral servitude is much easier... now that his mouth and tongue are his primary sex organs.”
As we exchange thoughts, we move to the livingroom, a chair for Harry, the couch for me.
Harry sits. I hope the stun of Jack’s introduction wears and does not effect his prowess. I really need some good stiffness tonight, and I need it hot... and deep.
Yes, I approximate Harry at nearly twelves inches. I judge by the amount of penis jutting forth above my hand when I grasp a man at the base to guide for insertion. There is more of Harry protruding above my thumb than any other lover.
We talk, Harry appreciating the fragrance of fine cooking as Jack prepares a special steak sauce. I decide to prime the pump, so to speak, patting the couch next to me. Harry knows to arise and move. All men are hounds when it comes to responding to gesture and receiving a treat. But no dog biscuit for Harry, instead just my hand, the one that has fostered my rapid rise within the Olivier Flavors and Fragrances hierarchy.
I reach to my right and smooth up and down at the zipper as Harry relates his day. I laugh inwardly, his voice cracking when certain hand motions become bold. Within moments, his slacks are tented, and with a man of Harry’s size the garment is strained and I am sure his manhood frustrated.
“Another brew, Jack,” I call out.
I hear the heels. Then comes a yelp. The setting on the remote has automatically returned to constrict and Jack has zapped himself trying to step from the kitchen. I reach out, grab the remote and press a button.
“You may come now, Jack.”
A sheepish Jack enters with a tray, two brews and two frozen mugs.
“You hurt yourself. You need to be more careful.”
“Yes, ma’am,” a glum Jack replies serving then taking away the empties.
With his proximity he notes the amazing bulge in Harry the Horse’s slacks. His eyes become glued. I reach down and brashly stroke at the cloth as if masturbating.
“Been a while since you’ve seen one of these, Jack. It’s termed an erection in case you no longer remember. Yes, yours does not get hard any more... and never did like this... did it?”
Jack reddens in silence.
“Did it Jack? Answer me. Isn’t that right?” reaching for the remote, I administer a reminder shock.
Jack gets the message. He will answer or various levels of electricity will surge through his penis and balls until he falls to the carpet in agony.
“Yes ma’am, that is right. Never hard like that.”
“So why don’t you be polite and compliment Harry on his size and stiffness?”
Jack pauses, gulps then stammers. Such a treat, the emotional stress.
“You’re... you’re... nicely sized, sir.”
I laugh most irritatingly.
“And its stiffness...”
“You’re very nicely stiff, sir.”
“Wouldn’t it be nice of Harry to share this with your wife, Jack?” reaching with both hands to cup the cloth covering the massive organ. “Since you can’t offer adequate vaginal penetration, perhaps Harry can accommodate. Ask him Jack. Ask Harry if he will be kind enough to fuck your wife.”
More pause. The flesh reddens more, Jack’s heart racing, circulation pounding. This is delicious. And though I so much appreciate Jack’s discomfort, the intense humiliation, I look to Harry. I am heartened to detect some furtive enjoyment.
“Sir, would you fuck my wife please?”
Harry laughs uproariously. He’s more than tolerating the cuckolding, he’s amused.
“Show him why, Jack. Put the tray down and show him why you need a real man to please your wife.”
With the front hem of the maid’s costume so abbreviated, it requires little effort to lift and display the steel cock cage. This also brings into plain sight the figure eight rings which anchor it in place and the pierced puff of flesh which once nestled Jack’s now emaciated testicles.
“Not much to him, is there Harry? And what remains of his gender I keep locked and wired, always at the ready for a little electrical shock to modify his behavior. Though meek and docile, there sometimes comes the combativeness of a little girl... Jack’s attempt at getting attention,” I hold up the remote control as I explain.
“Perhaps Harry would like to give you some of that special attention, Jack. Would you like that? Just a short reminder shock so you remember your place.”
It is key that Jack subordinate his will to my cuckolds. He will serve them, admire them, obey them... though not every one of my well hung lovers will care to participate. Still Jack must know that they can, that they are all empowered... by me.
“This little button, Harry. If you ever find his behavior lacking, press here and his penis and shriveled testicles will endure a 20 volt charge. Not much effect when applied elsewhere... but as a man I am sure you appreciate the sensitivity there.”
Harry nods and accepts the remote. I stroke that incredible cloth covered penis as encouragement. Jack, having not received any commands, remains standing before the couch, holding up the hem of his maid uniform to offer a most humiliating display if his entrapped organs.
“Here?” Harry seeking assurance.
I nod, the finger presses, and Jack stifles a wince.
“There are more powerful settings when he’s a very bad boy... or tries to exit where I have him working for me.”
Harry hands back the remote with a look of perplexity.
“It’s essentially a dog restraint system adapted for boys like Jack. The rooms are wired. He stays where I want him until I decide it is time to move.”
I do believe Harry is getting into the exchange of power. That makes for a good night of entertainment.
“Jack, put the steaks on and bring the salad to the table. We’ll eat first and then I think Harry wants to take you up on your offer. Look how big he’s become,” my hands reaching to once again tent the bulge and highlight it’s size.
Harry the Horse is expected at 7:00 p.m. Since he is a guy’s guy I’ll not have Jack go overboard with fancy cooking. As I demanded, steaks will do, and Jack can show off with some zesty sauce... he does know a thing about flavors.
So I arrive home at six to inspect and freshen up for Harry’s arrival.
Jack is in the kitchen of course, he has no choice and must stay there, either waiting for me and the remote control or calling my cell to request permission to use the bathroom. Tonight will be a big night for Jack. He’s not been proximate when I have ridden a bull in the past, the Bed and Breakfast wedding night when I was two doors down fucking Randy with zeal was as physically close as he’s been.
I find Jack naked and barefoot, just as I like him, knowing to prepare without soiling his uniform. He is upset, apprehensive. Emotionally he survived the wedding and the serving of my guests brunch the following Sunday. He of course knew I fucked Randy... hard and often... in consummating our unorthodox vows. And his hooded head has been wedged between my thighs several nights per week since. But it’s been impersonal... just between me, his cuckolding wife... and my cuck, Jack. He licks, engulfs and swallows... I taunt and mock... offering some reminder zings to his cock cage to assure attentive oral servitude... describing the length and girth of the stiff cock I rode to satiation.
But now he’s going to meet Harry... and serve him... and in later tasting him put a face and personality with one of my bullstuds.
A normal man would find repulsion... would protest... perhaps threaten... but Jack is no longer a man. The doses of cyproterone acetate continue. Though most likely unnecessary, his testicles shrunken to nothing, I like the idea of feeding him his morning pill... like the idea that he is fully aware I castrated him... me and Dr. Helmstadt... I like the idea that his knowledge of chemistry offered full awareness of the slow but very effective process. And now I like the idea that he will serve... me and my bullstud.
“Everything in good stead?” I inquire pleasantly, pinching that cute butt which seems to get plumper weekly.
Jack squeals like a little girl, marinating two thick porterhouse steaks. He’ll have much bone to pick over tonight. Leftovers and a large glass of buttermilk are his standard fare at home, the latter plumping him nicely.
He turns, which offers my fingers opportunity to toy with those tender girlish nipples... appearing prepubescent.
“I need to shower... and dress,” his manner glum.
“And makeup, Jack... along with the earrings I bought you.”
His look turns outright lugubrious.
“I thought I wore them for us.”
“For anyone I want to show them to, and show you to. Pour me the brew you selected then scoot,” I command, pushing the remote control to momentarily turn off the electrified dog barrier.
I replicated a set of gaudy but cheap rhinestone earrings displayed in one of the issues of ‘Men in Lace’. Curious how wearing such is of concern... drawing people into his secretive world of fantasy serves to fluster.
Jack scampers about, those buttocks rolling saucily. I take my brew and he prances to the bathroom... shower, makeup and skimpy maids uniform awaiting.
“And use the perfume,” I command as I settle in to relax.
The scent is strong and tawdry, cheap to match his earrings, stuff probably purchased by the quart by $ 50 hookers.
I move to the livingroom. As I sip I give some thought to this evening’s introduction. Months ago Randy Evans proved to be most open minded concerning the wedding and acting as best man. If there is one thing I have learned over the year, the male mind is more controlled by his penis than his brain. So in Randy knowing that the ceremony would be followed by sizzling, unbridled sex, there were no reservations expressed about his role. He just had to wear a tux and look virile, which is facile for any one of my bullstuds.
But with Harry the setting will be more intimate, as I intend. He knows I am married, but not to a chemically neutered ingenue whom I choose to keep naked and bound every night and most weekends. I do hope Jack’s proclivity and my exploitation of it does not disturb Harry. My quim really needs to be frictioned.
My brew is deep and malty, perfect for a steak. Jack does know flavors, I realize as he calls out from the bedroom, requesting permission to step out.
Total feminine control... always.
I press the remote and reply ‘come’, momentarily suspending any electrical shock.
Into the livingroom comes my little serving maid.
Cute. In heels, sexy black stockings, a black skirt so short that there is an occasional glint of his steel cock cage. At the back, I had Jack alter it, cutting the hemline up to the waist. Nothing covers his girlish buttocks. I decided such were too precious not to be always shown. White apron, white blouse, a traditional cap.
The makeup is adequate but he gets better with every attempt. He smells like a hooker and the finger and toe nails... what a shocking crimson shade. Such a vixen is my Jack.
“Very pretty tonight, Jack, Harry will be impressed,” smiling wickedly as I watch him blush.
Jack is both giddy and apprehensive, the hormonal confusion manifesting delightfully. A little girl wants to show off, a smidgen of remaining manliness urges concern. I suspect the little girl will prevail... and I have a remote which will assure it.
Jack skips to the kitchen, some final preparations. I glance at my watch then dash to the bedroom for a little preening. Harry will be on time, knowing he’s going to get laid, my command and control style found to be refreshing once or twice per month.
Within minutes the doorman calls to announce our visitor and with haste I change into something a little more comfortable and a lot more enticing... a very sheer negligee. A little early in the evening but I want Harry’s mind focused sooner rather later on the evening’s intended objective... unbridled copulation.
Curious, but Jack has never seen me other than fully dressed. Gazing at my charms is deemed to be a privilege to be earned by those whom can avail themselves. Though Jack has asked... before the cyproterone acetate devastated his libido... I have not let him have the slightest peek. Now in being chemically neutered I suppose it is no longer a point of interest.
The doorbell rings. I press the remote to permit Jack to exit the kitchen. The bedroom door is open but I hear no taps of those dainty heels. I again pick up the remote pressing the button for a reminder ‘zing’. It is uncomfortable but tolerable, enough voltage to remind Jack that he is under the control of a woman, one who can deliver... and will deliver... a most debilitating shock to his withered scrotum and the steel Prince’s Wand insertion.
He is reluctant. I do not permit reluctance.
I press again, a punishment shock. I hear a wince then I hear the heels. Tonight when I bed him down, I will need to recharge his battery pack. It is apparent this new paradigm will require some voltage.
I hear the apartment door open to offer entry.
“Good evening, sir,” Jack’s high pitched voice greets.
Harry’s initial silence brings a smile. Exactly what is Jack? I read his mind. Finally Harry’s deep booming voice inquires.
“Desiree Montrove?”
“She is dressing sir, and you are expected. Please come in. May I get you a brew?”
Harry is a blue collar guy, not exactly the type for a summa cum laude Vassar girl. But his equine sobriquet is appropriate... and references a most desirable anatomical male attribute.
Jack taps back to the kitchen, his genital control device on suspension while he serves... prancing from kitchen to dining area and back. I step from the bedroom in my negligee. As stated it is sheer... diaphanous probably a more apropos term. Nipples press forth, the ruby red tips seeming to bleed through the flimsy white. Below, I am sure my mons makes an equivalent introduction.
Harry gapes then finds words.
“Looking good babe. Who’s the little doll?”
“That’s Jack. My husband. Though I am probably going to change it to Jackie.”
Harry nods, appreciating more the ‘open relationship’, which is really down and dirty cuckolding.
Jack’s little heels tap again, carrying a tray... two of the malty brews with frozen mugs.
“Head?” I inquire, referencing the pour of the brew but the double entendre setting the mood.
Harry smiles, “just a little, for now.”
Jack pauses, gazing at me with desire, not having before seen my charms. Then he finally curtsies just as I taught him. When he turns to return to the kitchen, Harry notices the missing portion of the short skirt, Jack’s cheeks rolling in distraction. He suppresses a smile, a macho guy not to find interest in viewing a forcibly transformed male... one time male.
“Rather cute don’t you think, Harry? Castrated males make wonderful servants. Such devotion... and never a thought about any nastiness, like requesting inadequate sex. You know a girl like me likes it deep... and often. So what I am otherwise to do with Jackie?”
“Castrated?” Harry almost choking on the first sip of his brew.
“Neutered like a dog. I decided it was best for him. And he’s caged... down there. Keeps his mind off things long since past...”
Harry concentrates, focusing on a long draw, the soothing effect of alcohol deemed needed.
“Cooks wonderfully. Attentively cleans. He can sew... and teaching him proficient oral servitude is much easier... now that his mouth and tongue are his primary sex organs.”
As we exchange thoughts, we move to the livingroom, a chair for Harry, the couch for me.
Harry sits. I hope the stun of Jack’s introduction wears and does not effect his prowess. I really need some good stiffness tonight, and I need it hot... and deep.
Yes, I approximate Harry at nearly twelves inches. I judge by the amount of penis jutting forth above my hand when I grasp a man at the base to guide for insertion. There is more of Harry protruding above my thumb than any other lover.
We talk, Harry appreciating the fragrance of fine cooking as Jack prepares a special steak sauce. I decide to prime the pump, so to speak, patting the couch next to me. Harry knows to arise and move. All men are hounds when it comes to responding to gesture and receiving a treat. But no dog biscuit for Harry, instead just my hand, the one that has fostered my rapid rise within the Olivier Flavors and Fragrances hierarchy.
I reach to my right and smooth up and down at the zipper as Harry relates his day. I laugh inwardly, his voice cracking when certain hand motions become bold. Within moments, his slacks are tented, and with a man of Harry’s size the garment is strained and I am sure his manhood frustrated.
“Another brew, Jack,” I call out.
I hear the heels. Then comes a yelp. The setting on the remote has automatically returned to constrict and Jack has zapped himself trying to step from the kitchen. I reach out, grab the remote and press a button.
“You may come now, Jack.”
A sheepish Jack enters with a tray, two brews and two frozen mugs.
“You hurt yourself. You need to be more careful.”
“Yes, ma’am,” a glum Jack replies serving then taking away the empties.
With his proximity he notes the amazing bulge in Harry the Horse’s slacks. His eyes become glued. I reach down and brashly stroke at the cloth as if masturbating.
“Been a while since you’ve seen one of these, Jack. It’s termed an erection in case you no longer remember. Yes, yours does not get hard any more... and never did like this... did it?”
Jack reddens in silence.
“Did it Jack? Answer me. Isn’t that right?” reaching for the remote, I administer a reminder shock.
Jack gets the message. He will answer or various levels of electricity will surge through his penis and balls until he falls to the carpet in agony.
“Yes ma’am, that is right. Never hard like that.”
“So why don’t you be polite and compliment Harry on his size and stiffness?”
Jack pauses, gulps then stammers. Such a treat, the emotional stress.
“You’re... you’re... nicely sized, sir.”
I laugh most irritatingly.
“And its stiffness...”
“You’re very nicely stiff, sir.”
“Wouldn’t it be nice of Harry to share this with your wife, Jack?” reaching with both hands to cup the cloth covering the massive organ. “Since you can’t offer adequate vaginal penetration, perhaps Harry can accommodate. Ask him Jack. Ask Harry if he will be kind enough to fuck your wife.”
More pause. The flesh reddens more, Jack’s heart racing, circulation pounding. This is delicious. And though I so much appreciate Jack’s discomfort, the intense humiliation, I look to Harry. I am heartened to detect some furtive enjoyment.
“Sir, would you fuck my wife please?”
Harry laughs uproariously. He’s more than tolerating the cuckolding, he’s amused.
“Show him why, Jack. Put the tray down and show him why you need a real man to please your wife.”
With the front hem of the maid’s costume so abbreviated, it requires little effort to lift and display the steel cock cage. This also brings into plain sight the figure eight rings which anchor it in place and the pierced puff of flesh which once nestled Jack’s now emaciated testicles.
“Not much to him, is there Harry? And what remains of his gender I keep locked and wired, always at the ready for a little electrical shock to modify his behavior. Though meek and docile, there sometimes comes the combativeness of a little girl... Jack’s attempt at getting attention,” I hold up the remote control as I explain.
“Perhaps Harry would like to give you some of that special attention, Jack. Would you like that? Just a short reminder shock so you remember your place.”
It is key that Jack subordinate his will to my cuckolds. He will serve them, admire them, obey them... though not every one of my well hung lovers will care to participate. Still Jack must know that they can, that they are all empowered... by me.
“This little button, Harry. If you ever find his behavior lacking, press here and his penis and shriveled testicles will endure a 20 volt charge. Not much effect when applied elsewhere... but as a man I am sure you appreciate the sensitivity there.”
Harry nods and accepts the remote. I stroke that incredible cloth covered penis as encouragement. Jack, having not received any commands, remains standing before the couch, holding up the hem of his maid uniform to offer a most humiliating display if his entrapped organs.
“Here?” Harry seeking assurance.
I nod, the finger presses, and Jack stifles a wince.
“There are more powerful settings when he’s a very bad boy... or tries to exit where I have him working for me.”
Harry hands back the remote with a look of perplexity.
“It’s essentially a dog restraint system adapted for boys like Jack. The rooms are wired. He stays where I want him until I decide it is time to move.”
I do believe Harry is getting into the exchange of power. That makes for a good night of entertainment.
“Jack, put the steaks on and bring the salad to the table. We’ll eat first and then I think Harry wants to take you up on your offer. Look how big he’s become,” my hands reaching to once again tent the bulge and highlight it’s size.
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