The Chris Bellows' Collection

by Chris Bellows

  I looked through the glass to see the young shapely Nurse holding the cookie in her left hand high over her head. My naked Charles righted himself at the waist, remaining on his knees, in a futile effort to reach for the cookie. Meanwhile the right hand of Nurse Peggy reached to his catheterized penis. Soft feminine fingers gently grasped the shaft and dexterously stroked. Nurse Peggy smiled in feeling the useless organ twitch and harden in response to her touch.

  “Let’s make it nice and hard for me. Then you can have some cookie. Just a piece for now, cause I’ll want you crawling a little more.”

  I remember wondering if Dr. Stella Corrothers, specialist in sexually deviant behavior, would think it untoward if my hand slipped under my skirt for a quick circumgyration of my mons.

  I’d be writing out substantial checks to the Amsterdam Clinic, I realized, but the amusement and satisfaction was worth every penny.

  I continue riding Reggie, quickening the pace to enhance the desirous friction. Just as I trained Charles, now Corky, during our engagement, I reach to Reggie’s nipples, pinch and twist with gusto. The pained reaction brings the bucking motion that culminates our copulation.

  “Come,” I throatily command, twisting more.

  In feeling jets of hot sperm erupt, seemingly into my womb, I join my spouting boy toy in one last climax. After many moments my thighs relax and I roll off Reggie’s lingering form, reaching to untie the leash.

  I know that in replicating the way Charles the husband and I formerly fornicated, I have increased the frustration of Corky the pet, watching in total chastity as I pleasure myself on the handsome and sculpted form of my well hung Reggie. It’s so delicious!

  “Up on the bed, Corky. Mr. Reggie needs the attention of your tongue.”

  Chapter Twenty Two - Corky

  With the tropical sun bringing a glow to the shutters of the bedroom windows, I judge the time to be well past dawn. Miss Ashley has arisen and strolls about the room, her naked form radiating in the morning light. My eyes follow, coveting her form. She is beautiful.

  A firm hand on my leash directs me to the special chair and clips my neck collar to the seat. In sitting, her thighs press the sides of my head right and left. As she slides her naked posterior toward my face, the fragrance of her semen filled sex fills my nostrils.

  “Be a good boy, Corky. Reggie filled me to the brim with that last lay.”

  My tongue extends, my lips open and then purse to gather in her labia. My clean up duties continue. As trained, I put aside thoughts of the ignominy of removing another man’s deep spendings from the heated pubes of my wife.

  My mind returns instead to the Amsterdam Clinic where under the verbal encouragement of Dr. Stella and the tutelage of Nurse Peggy I received my early oral training. Different than that utilized in normal heterosexual relations, I was trained to be orally obeisant without regard to gender, without regard to my own pleasure, with total regard and respect for he/she being serviced.

  I never worked so hard for a simple cookie as when Nurse Peggy had me crawl about the room in a drug induced fog, providing a nibble here and a nibble there in rewarding proper behavior. Despite being catheterized she was also quite adept at having me maintain an erection.

  The session ended with a pat to my head and a more firm stroke to my penis. It felt good.

  “Very good, Charles. You’re responding well. A few more consultations and we’ll soon have you before a judge,” Dr. Stella’s voice boomed over the loudspeakers.

  With that the door opened and Nurse Valerie returned. It was back into my box sans gastric tube, where catheter and rectal tube were attached to connections and the lid shut tight. The ensuing vibrations suggested I was being wheeled back to the room where I was first encased.

  Once again I endured isolation and sensory deprivation. But this time there were no nourishing liquids siphoned into my stomach. Was I to be starved?

  I was sure that the rectally introduced Thorazine continued at some level of dosage, for there remained no desire to move and my mind wandered aimlessly, on occasion dreaming of the young and pretty Nurse Peggy and how strangely eager I was to please her.

  I believe I hallucinated about food for I seemed to be able to smell cooking. The rich aroma of baking pervaded my box at times and I fantasized about crawling after Nurse Peggy who teasingly offered a plate of freshly baked bread as I endeavored to obey her commands.

  Finally the vibrations returned... one day... two days... the timing was not mine to determine. But the lid finally opened and the warm wet cloth covered my eyes as the tubes were disconnected to free me. I had been returned to the room with the mirror lined wall.

  Once again it was Nurse Valerie and Nurse Peggy, with the authoritarian voice of Dr. Stella coming over the loudspeakers.

  “I have something I want you to wear, Charles. You won’t mind, will you? We like obedient men here,” Dr. Stella announced.

  Still in a fog I voiced my consent as I knelt on all fours and two pairs of feminine hands soothingly washed every inch of my naked flesh.

  After being dried, it was then that I was introduced to the restraining arm and leg bindings, which continue to force me to emulate a canine. Both nurses laughed as my right arm, bent at the elbow, was enshrouded in a covering of latex and tightened to make it impossible to straighten my arm. My left arm followed and I found my hands to be useless in such constraints.

  My legs were next, bent at the knees, my ankles held adjacent to my buttocks, the larger latex coverings obviated use of my feet. In tightly lacing all the bindings, moving about on all fours was no longer an option suggested by the effects of a narcotic. It was mandatory.

  A laughing Nurse Valerie departed, seemingly disappointed in missing my humiliation.

  “How do you feel, Charles, all trussed up by women?” the voice commandingly inquired.

  I indicated my reservation as Nurse Peggy encircled my neck with a leather collar. I could not stop her. My hands were useless.

  “Nurse Peggy will walk you a little, Charles. You need exercise, cramped for so long in your box. And I bet you’re hungry. Good boys are rewarded with food here, Charles.”

  So went my introduction to replicating canine behavior. Nurse Peggy clipped a leash to my collar and around and around the room we went. I could not help thinking about who was observing on the other side of the one way glass. Was Ashley watching? Gloating?

  Dr. Stella constantly spoke, asking questions... how does it feel to be controlled be a woman? Leashed like a dog? Are you aroused Charles? Do Nurse Peggy’s tugs excite you?

  I don’t remember all my answers, but the smiling Nurse Peggy stayed in her role most dutifully.

  And most oddly, in the end, I was rewarded with freshly baked bread, smelling coincidently like the hallucinogenic fragrance that had wafted through my box.

  As Nurse Peggy tore morsels from the delicious, warm and moist loaf and pressed such into my mouth, Dr. Stella’s voice complimented as I chewed ravenously.

  “You’ve been a good doggie today, Charles. So good that your new Master, Miss Ashley, wants to change your name. She likes Corky, the name of a puppy she had many years ago. You don’t mind if we call you Corky, do you, Charles? It will please Miss Ashley.”

  I nodded of course, the Thorazine precluding resistance and making me pleased that I had pleased.

  “For your next encounter we’ll introduce you to a very interesting girl, named Henrietta. You’re going to enjoy her company, Corky. She’s undergoing treatment here and I think a nice doggie will serve to cheer her.”

  “You may lick Nurse Peggy’s shoes now, if you’d like Corky. She likes men to lick her shoes.”

  So I did... and Nurse Peggy indeed enjoyed my subservience.

  Chapter Twenty Three - Corky

  Miranda enters, her timing perfect as I rid Miss Ashley’s love nest of the final drops of Mr. Reggie’s essence.

  “Miss Mary is ready in the preparation room, Miss Ashley.”

 
; “Good. Take Corky for a walk first. We’ll be on the beach when Mary’s through with him.”

  Miss Ashley takes a final gulp of coffee, arises and steps to the shower room. I am disappointed that I will not join her and gaze at her loveliness as she bathes.

  Miranda clips on my leash and releases my neck collar from the special chair.

  “Come,” the young native girl commands, enthused with her control.

  Out the bedroom door, I bound down the stairs, my testicles bells chiming. My bladder is full and I must go.

  We find a suitable spot, Miranda releases the short chain and holds my scrotum out of the way with her bare hands. Most of the women use the obedience stick to assure neatness. The coquettish Miranda likes to hold a man by his balls. Her warmth feels good.

  As I empty myself, Miranda speaks.

  “You’re going to be taken out of your leggings,” she ebulliently announces. “Mary’s going to work you completely naked. No covering.”

  It is rare that I am relieved of the coverings for any length of time. Moving about on elbows and knees has become ingrained. The cramping of muscles has long passed as my body acclimated to the awkward position with the many days at the clinic.

  Yes, the clever bindings at first were taken on and off on each occasion that I was removed from the sensory deprivation box. So the next time I was released, after my bath and a complete body shave, Nurse Valerie and Nurse Peggy effortlessly slipped the latex over arms and legs, securing more tightly. Though a collar was attached, Nurse Peggy forwent the leash. Instead she began tossing about a sponge rubber ball as Nurse Valerie departed.

  “Retrieve the ball, Corky,” a laughing voice encouraged over the loudspeaker.

  Thus I was taught more mobility, Nurse Peggy tossing the ball again and again after I humbly crawled after it and returned it to her in my teeth.

  Meanwhile, Nurse Valerie returned. With her was a patient, the first person other than the nurses I had seen in many weeks of being institutionalized.

  “This is Henrietta, Corky,” a smiling Nurse Valerie cooed, her right arm around the shoulder of a blonde.

  I knew from the attire that Henrietta was a patient. A broad nylon belt encircled the waist with straps that served to hold the wrists immobile at the hips. There were high heels, very high heels, which made the appearance comically ungainly. Otherwise the form was completely naked.

  There was a smattering of makeup and the long locks of hair tumbled over the shoulders to partially cover breasts, which were strangely unfeminine. Henrietta was blushing, obviously uncomfortable in being shown to a male, even one so humiliatingly emulating a dog.

  Nurse Valerie noticed my gaze and reached to draw back Henrietta’s hair, exposing the flesh of the entire torso and mammary glands.

  “They’re still developing,” Nurse Valerie explained, standing behind and brazenly reaching around to cup the small mounds.

  “But after the operation, they’ll grow nicely.”

  Henrietta’s head lowered in shame as Nurse Valerie caressed and kneaded the underdeveloped breasts. Her manipulation was mechanical and Henrietta silently stood, bashfully absorbing the glandular massage as if it was a daily occurrence.

  “Show Corky what a nice clitoris Henrietta has,” Dr. Stella’s voice echoes.

  My eyes moved to see Henrietta’s feet cross in a silly attempt to cloak the pubes area. Nurse Valerie giggled wickedly, stepped around then reached down to likewise cup and display the genitals. The glabrous region appeared to be pubescent.

  “Show Corky your clitoris, Henrietta,” Nurse Valerie admonished in the soft voice of a mother administering to a child.

  The feet uncrossed and Nurse Valerie’s hand found the sought after organ. Henrietta’s ‘clitoris’ was in fact a small penis. A withered scrotal sac held gonads the size of peanuts. Henrietta was male, a very effeminate, slightly built male.

  “Henrietta’s going to have a little operation to better feminize her package. And thereafter all the estrogen we’ve been injecting will make those little titties grow like weeds. Yes they will, Henrietta,” Nurse Valerie added in a childish voice.

  Henrietta’s head again lowered in shame, yet there appeared to be a strange glee in contemplating the procedure, which I guessed, would finalize a long process... the transformation of male to female.

  At that point Nurse Peggy clipped a leash to my collar.

  “Come, Corky, show Henrietta what doggies like to do,” the pretty blonde suggested in a soft encouraging voice.

  She tugged and Dr. Stella’s more commanding voice added.

  “We’re going to enhance your oral skills, Corky. Within a few weeks you’ll be asexual in applying tongue and lips. You’ll find our methods to be efficient and firm. And after every encounter there will be a reward. Food. Real food.”

  Nurse Peggy led me to the shy Henrietta, helplessly standing perched on high heels with wrists well secured at the hips.

  “We trained Henrietta to be very receptive to anal stimulation, Corky. After all, in a few days she’ll be unable to obtain normal male gratification... since she will no longer have balls. So perhaps you’d like to please Henrietta.”

  My pretty nurse forcefully tugged until my face was pressed between Henrietta’s girlish buttocks. The ‘girl’ squealed in feeling my breath. The nursing duo laughed and Nurse Peggy shook the leash.

  “Lick, Corky, be a good doggie.”

  The Thorazine made it impossible to resist her gentle commands. Something told me to obey.

  “I have a cookie for you...”

  Fortunately, Henrietta had been well scrubbed, for my tongue parted the smooth rounded globes and I began to entertain... Nurse Peggy, Nurse Valerie, Dr. Stella, certainly Henrietta and whoever else was behind the mirrored wall.

  Later, with the delicious cookie teasingly waved about, I licked Henrietta ‘clitoris’ bringing the tiny appendage to stand at its full three inches. The women laughed uproariously and suggested I lick Henrietta’s balls as well. The barrage of estrogen had shrunk the organs to the size of small pebbles. I shuddered. Despite the dosage of neuroleptic, the realization of the feminine power in which I was kept brought fear. Thus my reaction was one of obedience. Something within convinced me that my subservience, complete and utter submission, would protect me from harm.

  It was then that the notion of ‘sperm appetizer’ was inaugurated, for Nurse Peggy held the leash quite firmly, insisting that tongue and lips return to the tiny erection. Nurse Valerie donned a latex glove and as a swooning Henrietta, overwhelmed with the intense pleasure of my oral service, struggled to stay balanced on high heels, two gloved fingers worked into the rectum that my tongue had lubricated. The overpowering stimulation brought Henrietta to a climax, his thin and watery semen meekly seeping into my mouth.

  “We like our patients to swallow here at the clinic, Corky. Be a good boy and you’ll have the entire cookie,” Dr. Stella’s authoritative voice suggested.

  Yes, my first sperm appetizer.

  Chapter Twenty Four - Mary

  Normally my governance over males is more sexually subtle. Working young, virile and well conditioned athletes provides a thrill for me. I make them sweat and on hot days have them strip down to the minimum so I can gaze at all that muscle under my control.

  And when I command ‘shirts off’ they actually thank me for it.

  There are also surprise visits to the shower room where I enjoy watching exposed male flesh scramble for covering and certain sessions where I can have a trim young male stripped naked for various types of therapy. No overt sexual interaction, but a stimulating CFNM (clothed female, naked male) encounter where I am in total control of the most vulnerable and bashful male anatomy.

  So when a temporary employment agency called and suggested that a very wealthy and influential woman had a special situation, one that seemed very suited to my talents, the position was of some interest. Then when the woman indicated the size of the fee, plus all expenses paid for
a week or more on a Caribbean island, I asked no further questions. I was available.

  Then this Miss Ashley Duval called to discuss details and I became wet between the thighs, wetter than when I ride on the back of a punished athlete while I make him to do pushups.

  A subordinate male needed highly individualized training, Miss Duval explained.

  “I don’t permit clothing and he won’t resist or complain, I assure you,” she added with a soft laugh.

  So here I am in this preparation room, as Miss Duval terms it. A ballroom converted to a dungeon with equipment I have only seen or read about in kinky magazines.

  Since all males need discipline, my first chore is to decide how I will discipline this Corky. Though his canine replication is cute, I’ll need to apply something more than a rolled up newspaper to his nose. On the athletic fields, I demand extra laps after practice or lots of pushups for those who are laggards or fail to properly obey my commands. Here I can be more explicit.

  So as I await Miranda and the pooch, I stroll along this wall covered with whips, canes, crops and every imaginable length and shape of leather instrument. Though the thought of applying such to subservient male flesh excites, most are impractical.

  Then I spy this simple tapered length of plastic, some one inch in diameter at one end tapering to about three eighths of an inch on the business end. Its forty inches can be easily swung indoors and depending on the velocity, the bearer can apply correcting taps or horribly painful strokes to the naked flesh of the recalcitrant male.

  It’s a sjambok, a traditional African instrument of correction formerly made of rolled and dried animal hides, and modernized by being produced en masse with special polymers that bend but don’t break.

  Oh my, I’m going to enjoy this week. I remove the sjambok and swing it about. The swishing sounds bring goose bumps. And to think Corky will face my stern hand totally naked... I can apply the tapered end anywhere, at any time, for any reason.