The Chris Bellows' Collection

by Chris Bellows

  And Miss Judy has increased my frustration. On several mornings after Miss Chloe has fed me and refilled my water bowl, Miss Judy’s morning ablutions have been suspended when she slips the rubber hood over my head. Then my world consists mostly of the rustle of clothing and tugs on my leash as she guides me about blindfolded to a nearby lounge chair. There I am instructed on the essentials of cunnilingus as she sits and my head finds its way between her thighs. My tongue and lips work and her feminine fragrance brings the expected male response, except that my infibulating nail remains in place and I must not only labor physically with my tongue but also endeavor mentally to remain flaccid.

  The predisposition for my penis to firm prevails of course and I hear Miss Judy laughing with delight, occasionally squeezing her thighs in ecstasy as my entrapped manhood places me in agony and I moan into her quim.

  It was during the third such encounter that Miss Judy explained the abundant slippery wetness I found in her love canal...another man’s juices...her husband’s. And though horrified, I had no choice but to attentively remove every drop. It is only after these oral ministrations that I am brought to the examination table and my penis freed to completely harden while I am cleansed.

  But today is Saturday and though my food will be late, as Miss Chloe is given to sleeping in, I know that for a good portion of the day, my penis will be freed to amuse my Master. This anticipation allows me to patiently endure a dog’s life...secured to a leash and waiting...waiting...waiting.

  My ears perk with the sound of a car. I arise when the side gate opens. A tall blond woman enters, taller than Miss Lenore, and in her hand is a leash! She tugs and sharply commands ‘heel’ and I see a human canine follow her into the pool area. The white leather leash is bejeweled with rhinestones and leads to a fixture in the dog’s nose. With similar arm and leg bindings, this faux pup is ornately costumed as a French poodle with stylishly rounded patches of white fur attached to the bottom of each artificial leg. Floppy strips of fur have been clipped to the ears. Since there is no cranial hair, just a silly patch of white fur, I cannot truly determine whether the crawling form is male or female. The elaborate costume is most ostentatiously flamboyant and had I not been similarly attired I would laugh at the wearer’s circumstances. Yet the creature obediently canters behind his/her owner with practiced agility.

  It is evident that it has spent much time wearing the costume.

  The huge blond woman directs the poodle to the table where I am so ignominiously displayed each morning. She snaps her fingers and points and the human canine bounds up onto the chair and then the surface of the table. The chair is slid away, effectively trapping the poodle atop the table. The leash is unclipped and a large but powerful feminine hand slips under the torso. I hear pleasant words of encouragement, ‘good Peetie’, and then see fingers toying with a penis head. It shows itself just below the navel and the shaft seems glued to his abdomen.

  So it is a male poodle. Of sorts.

  The poodle spreads his hind paws as if to invite more attention. The blond woman giggles and reaches lower between the thighs to caress there. Then she steps away to remove her flowery silk kimono.

  Looking upwards from my position on the deck, I strain against my leash to obtain a better view of the new doggie, looking across the pool. Peetie the Poodle has nothing between his thighs that a normal male dog would be proudly exhibiting in his mandated posture!

  I gawk, my eyes seeking reassurance. But I am distracted as for the first time the blond woman turns and faces me.

  Jeeeeeezus! It is the police officer who so cruelly left me naked and impaled on my trailer hitch.

  “Good morning, Willie. How nice to see you again.”

  The focus of my unbelieving eyes shifts. Though Officer’s Benson’s uniform could not disguise her notable height; it did wonders in camouflaging a magnificent and uniquely powerful body. She wears a simple bikini, more modest than Miss Chloe’s of course, but one can quickly surmise that much time has been spent honing that which nature has graciously bestowed.

  Officer Benson is incredibly well muscled. Her firm breasts seem to hold her bikini top without need for straps. Abdominal muscles form even and impressive rows of sculpted flesh. Her thighs seem to explode with the slightest of movements. And as noted when her ‘Smokey the Bear’ hat fell while presenting her boots, the long golden hair cascades in bright waves over her shoulders and back.

  As my gaze works downward, for the first time I notice she is wearing the boots. Her attire is incongruous but presents her muscled form in a most alluring manner. The black leather serves to caution. This is a body to be viewed but not trifled with.

  Memories of that afternoon when she so brazenly used her authority to humiliate come to mind. That twinge follows and I feel stirring in my loins..., that which I have learned to control over the weeks.

  Incredibly, my penis hardens in looking at her.

  She approaches and she is so tall relative to my kneeling height that I find my neck straining to look up into her eyes. Her boots clop on the concrete deck and I look down to watch her gait…a curious combination of military march with feminine élan.

  “You seemed to kind of liked my boots, so despite the weather, I wore them for you.”

  She reaches my side of the pool and ends her show of stylish authority just inches from my face. She knows the walker line will not permit another foot of motion and stands over me arms akimbo.

  “Perhaps the little doggie would like to sniff my boots? Peetie enjoys licking them and it’s good practice for his tongue.

  “Come here and give the toe a nice doggie welcome.”

  The walker line restrains but I know Officer Benson is to be obeyed. I pull, the tension closing the serrated nipple strips. The pain grows to approach unbearable agony, but also serves to slow my engorging penis. I come within an inch and thrust my tongue. She laughs.

  “You’ve found your calling, Willie. There are some born to serve and entertain.”

  She graciously extends her right boot and I lick. Her laugh turns to a sardonic cackle.

  “Oh, Willie, are you getting a hard-on? This excites you doesn’t it?”

  I am chagrined to have to admit to myself that my manhood is indeed straining against its infibulating nail. The woman seems to understand my psyche better than I do myself.

  My oral servitude is interrupted when Miss Judy strolls through the connecting gate. Officer Benson and Miss Judy must be well acquainted, judging by the exchange of pleasantries. Happily, the boot is withdrawn.

  After obligatory conversation, Officer Benson notices that Miss Judy carries cleaning supplies.

  “Oh, you’ll need the table.”

  Officer Benson returns to Peetie the Poodle and during this interval I am afforded a view of her backside. Gluteus maximus muscles, as if sculpted from marble, propel the tall beauty with a curious grace and power. Though most attractive, there is puissance beyond that of normal femininity.

  Meanwhile Miss Judy unhooks my leash.

  “Come, Willie,” she commands in a louder than normal voice.

  I follow to my examination table, quite eager to be freed of the impaling nail, and to be massaged and cleaned. But Peetie is a distraction. I cannot help staring at the naked form, so limited in size and strength compared to Officer Benson. And the form also catches Miss Judy’s attention as we approach from the rear.

  “Goodness, Annette. You’ve finally had him fixed.”

  The blonde chuckles as she succinctly clips the white bejeweled leash to Peetie’s nose restraint.

  “Yep, I had to; I caught him masturbating again. Just can’t report for duty with soiled boots. You know where he likes to do the nasty deed. Well he’s shot his last load.”

  The women laugh at the plight of poor Peetie. Miss Judy’s skilled nursing hand makes an inspection mandatory. I am shocked when she reaches between Peetie’s thighs and unfurls the flaccid skin that normally would house a male’s proud organs.


  “Nicely done. No visible scars and well depilated...chemical?”

  “No. Lasers. Had his entire body done. The cost is much more reasonable in Mexico. And the women there seem to get a kick out of making fun of the male beast. Something about the machismo environment that the Mexican women love to see reversed. A joyful kind of revenge.”

  Miss Judy’s hand explores more. “Interesting effect with the penis. It’s sutured to his abdomen.”

  “Yeah, an extra touch at very little cost. Small incisions on both the penis shaft and tummy so the skin will graft together. Now Peetie must go on all fours, don’t you boy?”

  More laughter as Miss Judy nonchalantly examines the kneeling poodle. From my vantage-point on the deck I can observe Peetie’s once male anatomy as Miss Judy fondles and toys with the altered appendages. When the sutured shaft begins to harden, I am at first heartened for Peetie knowing that Officer Benson has not robbed him of all things male. But then I realize how useless such tumescence is to him. His firming penis does nothing more than amuse the two women.

  “Time for a swim.”

  I am amazed to see the sheer power of the large well-muscled blonde has she extends her arms and slips one under Peetie’s chest and the other beneath his bent and upturned calves. She lifts effortlessly and carries the costumed canine to the pool. There she casually tosses him into the water, catching the dangling leash as Peetie splashes and lets out a yelp.

  The little dog legs begin to kick, much as I have learned to do and Officer Benson guides Peetie by his nose to the deep end. There she loops the white leather around the diving board. Though I found the rubber bindings to provide buoyancy, it is apparent that Peetie’s fur causes him to sink. And so to take the tension off his leash and nose, Peetie kicks with fervor.

  “Interesting nose piercing,” Miss Judy comments as she arranges the chair and I know to raise myself to the tabletop.

  “Isn’t it clever? It’s actually a length of stainless steel cable looped through his sinuses and welded into a permanent insert. Provides amazingly effective control. Peetie cannot bear even the slightest of tugs. I have been told the sensation is akin to someone pulling on his brain. The control factor is absolute.”

  Office Benson leaves Peetie trading water with abandon as she returns to the table and watches Miss Judy work me. She releases each of my limbs and soothingly massages in the hair removal cream. I am hopeful that the slim brass nail which rules my penis will be slipped out and I can then show gratitude.

  But now it is Officer Benson’s turn to inspect.

  Chapter Forty Eight

  Annette Benson

  Such a pleasant way to spend a Saturday afternoon!

  Judy has such great skills in handling the naked and bound male. One by one, Willie’s arms and legs are released and unfolded and the young mutt shows his respect by playfully licking at her hands. I stand before him poised to tease, knowing that my muscles and breasts entice the subservient male. And sure enough, whether it’s Willie’s nervous system reacting to the relaxing massage, or his psyche responding to two women forcing him to reveal all to examining eyes, his sizable penis begins to engorge despite his attempts to remain flaccid. The clever infibulating nail works well, containing the swelling penis tip within his foreskin, and his moments of pleasure slowly turn to delightful anguish. He begins to squirm with the pain.

  “What’s the matter, Willie?” I tauntingly inquire.

  I lean for a better view of his organ. I must smile seeing the vaunted male prize so securely entrapped and placed under feminine control, and with something as simple and inexpensive as a two inch nail. Yet it is so effective. Given permission to speak Willie would be begging for relief, and it could be so easily granted. Thumb and forefinger merely grasp the nail head and pull, turning the hand slightly to allow for the curvature of the nail. Slowly, carefully, since the penetrating shaft abrades that tender head, that which is so strenuously trying to escape...the thin metal slides out. And when removed...such celebration! The organ will stand in salute to the Dominant female.

  But that is all. There will be no climactic relief. No spermatic eruption. No, the subjugated penis will merely stand and show itself for the entertainment of its defacto owner.

  Judy unbuckles and removes Willie’s nipple harness. He sighs with the relative pleasure of feeling nothing tormenting his pink nubs. I again lean to examine. He has the perky nipples of a pubescent girl, nicely pink, tender, seeming ready to blossom to womanhood.

  “It’s the hormones,” Judy explains in noting my visual examination. “The system of the chaste male has a curious way of dealing with the slow build up.”

  The last limb is massaged and the hair cream removed along with whatever stubble. The leg is folded and returned to its binding. Judy moves to the rear and unties Willie’s scrotal strap to allow his balls to freely swing between parted thighs. She glides out the anal plug with tail attached.

  I will have to get something like that for Peetie, I note.

  Then Judy opens a jar and removes a suppository. Willie will not escape any degree of humiliation today as the knowing hand of the experienced nurse slides the slippery cone of glycerin into his rectum.

  “We keep him quite regular. Can’t have him soiling the deck.”

  Willie’s head sinks in shame. Moving his bowels before two women...forced to move his bowels, perched atop the table, naked, bound., hairless…

  The thrill of Dominance floods through me, and though I rarely touch, I reach out and take a nipple in each hand. With the extreme chastity I know the sensation to be wonderfully sensuous for him...akin to stroking the erect shaft of a normal male.

  But for our poor Willie, with his male organ so nicely tucked away, my soothing gesture merely heightens his arousal, which he mentally struggles to avoid.

  “Are you going to fill the bed pan for Miss Judy?” I coo in as kind a voice as I can muster after years of commanding Max and Peetie.

  Judy knowingly palms his freed scrotum to hold his plums away from his passage. This of course heightens the stimulation and poor Willie’s cerebral cortex is overwhelmed with conflicting thoughts, feelings and sensations.

  Yes the ignominy is delicious...forced to perform such an intimate function while so exposed to all, outdoors, in the sunshine. He comically clenches his buttocks in attempting to resist, but the suppository has its effect. Eventually the hind legs further spread. The beseeching look on Willie’s face changes to an amusing combination of embarrassment and determination. Judy begins to giggle and offer her own words, ostensibly intended to soothe but actually heightening the opprobrium.

  Willie arches his back and the nasty deed is done just as a nearly naked Chloe steps from the door with a nice bowl of food.

  “Good boy,” Judy offers in suppressing a laugh.

  Chapter Forty Nine

  Chloe

  Annette Benson is so tall, beautiful and divinely athletic! But she prefers to be serviced by the male gender. Still, I enjoy her company. So strong. And the way she handles Peetie makes me envious.

  I call out greetings, the two women working Willie on what Judy has termed the examination table. I notice Peetie is being exercised, his pretty leash keeping him secured to the diving board as his little legs kick arduously to hold his head above water. Yet the dear pooch stares at me with such intensity.

  Interesting that the length of white leather is attached to his nose.

  Since I am wearing my pool attire, which Lenore describes as three Band-Aids held by two threads, I am accustomed to the covetous looks of the male. But Peetie’s look is somewhat forlorn, like an animal that has been abandoned along the wayside.

  So I place Willie’s brimming food bowl in its usual place, promptly use the garden hose to refill his water and then scurry to visit Peetie.

  Annette has obviously had him swimming, if that is the proper term, for a while. So I reach to unravel the leash from the diving board and then gently guide the sinking poodle t
oward the shallow end.

  “Come here, Peetie,” I encourage.

  He paddles with renewed zeal and of course the male beast gapes at my near nakedness.

  But I return the stare because Peetie has the most interesting loop of steel in his nose where the leash is attached. And the slightest movement of my hand brings a plaintive utterance. So as I circle the perimeter of the pool, Peetie must follow and I enjoy watching his little doggie legs kick away as he endeavors to keep the leash slack.

  “Something new?” I inquire of Annette, pointing at the nose coupling.

  “Oh, yes. Just got back from Mexico where I had Peetie altered to induce better behavior; he was masturbating on my boots again.”

  Annette laughs, the mocking inflection in her voice suggesting that the ‘boys will be boys’ acceptance of the nasty deed is no longer tolerable.

  She leaves Willie as Judy buckles on his nipple harness. Walking in knee high leather boots, with otherwise limited covering, makes for quite the enticing exhibition. And those muscles...I feel wetness in my loins.

  Standing beside me, towering over me, she silently extends her hand in requesting the leash. I look into her powerful demanding eyes in surrendering the length of leather. She smilingly takes it and cruelly tugs to rein in Peetie, pulling him to the side of the pool. There she bends and with her contracting muscles swelling arms and legs, plucks Peetie from the pool with the ease of lifting a pillow. She places him on the deck.

  “Roll!”

  A wet Peetie obeys, lying supine on the cement.

  “Spread for Chloe.”

  The enfolded hind legs part to reveal a most curious configuration of male equipment, completely denuded of hair, a penis shaft attached to his tummy, and most shockingly an abundance of loose fleshy pink where Peetie’s proud gonads once nested.

  “My boots are safe now,” Annette laughs throatily.

  The large woman kneels to better exhibit Peetie’s alteration. Her fingers toy with the empty scrotal sac, gathering together a large tuft of skin to demonstrate that the organs are indeed gone.