I too begin to smile with the vision of young hands wielding a thin whip, which harmlessly abrades the upper arms of a massive pony boy instead of striking its intended sensitive target. But as I begin to ask for details concerning her first experience with the renowned oral caress of a Constancia Island pony, the scene in the middle of the large dining room stops me in my tracks.
There, in the middle of the dining area, perched on a pedestal, is a beautiful young male. He is stripped naked and his only covering is a thick neck collar, which is chained directly above to a pulley hanging from one of the strong eye-hooks in the ceiling. The allowed length of chain forces him to his toes. A taut rope, partially bearing the weight of the captive, runs from the pulley above to the side of the pedestal where it is secured.
Numerous bright spotlights hanging from the ceiling illuminate his blemishless, white skin. He has been massaged with oil and since there are no other lights in the darkened dining room, the naked male form is highlighted and seems to glow. It is the refraction of the spotlights from his glistening alabaster flesh that lights the remainder of the room.
I glance to Lady Constance who upon noticing my reaction had subsequently stopped two steps in front of me. She turns back to me and laughs.
“Do you recognize him?”
Yes, I do and I nod accordingly.
Discretion prohibits publishing his name in this treatise, but helplessly standing in the Caribbean home of the most dominant woman in the world is the naked form of one of Hollywood’s most famous young actors. He has shoulder length blond hair, blue eyes, and a perfectly sculpted body. With his first movie, the entertainment press hung the moniker ‘Adonis’ on him and the female teen world idolized him and crammed the theaters ever since.
We resume our journey toward the far side of the dining room where a simple table is set for two.
“I thought he’d provide some entertainment for us, Doctor. Famous actors aren’t cheap, but then there’s isn’t much I cannot afford.”
Yes indeed there isn’t, I think to myself.
Adonis fidgets as we pass by the pedestal. Lady Constance issues a pleasant but firm command.
“I want you erect. Make sure it’s firm and points to the ceiling for me during dinner. As you’ve been made aware, ejaculation is not permitted.”
His right hand immediately moves to his penis and begins toying. He is uncircumcised and sizable, but obviously not the largest I have seen in Lady Constance’s company. However, it is very nicely shaped and evenly proportioned with his testicles, which it occurs to me, have been cleanly shaven.
Having recently spent so much time with depilated males, Adonis’s hairless groin first went unnoticed. But as I scan his body I realize there is no hair anywhere.
“Part of the agreement. Jasmine shaved him this afternoon before he was scanned,” comments Lady Constance. “He’ll have some explaining to do on his next Hollywood date.”
She laughs with the thought of the film industry’s latest heart throb fumbling to explain to some young beauty that a rather large and powerful black nurse stripped and restrained him and then forcibly voided his entire body of hair.
We seat ourselves facing the pedestal. Ling is already kneeling in place. Lady Constance gracefully lifts her skirt and places it over ‘her’ head. The lithe, naked form moves forward and the top of ‘her’ head forms a bump between the wonderfully tanned thighs of the world’s richest woman.
Meanwhile, the hand of Adonis strokes vigorously, then having adequately performed its duty hangs to his side.
“Hands on head. Spread your feet. Remain absolutely motionless.”
Amazingly, he seems to jump at Lady Constance’s command and his hands instantly move to the top of his golden locks, submissively fold and remain so placed. With his neck held high, balancing on his toes seems to be mandatory, thus Lady Constance’s command to remain in place appears to be superfluous, as it is evidently the only comfortable position for him.
It is then that I see Jasmine standing in a dark corner on the opposite side. She is dressed, if that is the proper term, in black leather and holds a lengthy cane in her right hand. Next to her is a video camera mounted on a tripod. Its lens is pointed toward the pedestal and Jasmine casually moves to peer through the viewfinder then adjusts the focus.
“For my files,” my hostess explains of the taping. “I purchased some rather nasty photos of our acclaimed visitor. Seems that before his recent fame he used to engage in rather decadent sexual acts with people of the wrong age. On one occasion, he was photographed in flagrante delicto and some greedy person used the negatives as blackmail. I graciously rescued his career by acquiring all the evidence. Cost me much time and money, but I’m happy with the results. He’s agreed to entertain me from time to time as compensation.”
Lady Constance giggles with her understated description of Adonis’s endeavors.
“With additional photos and a colorful collection of video tapes, I can make sure he remains a good boy.”
Lady Constance’s skirt begins to rustle and the underlying bump moves. Meanwhile, porter number two serves soup and we begin a quiet meal with ‘Adonis’ standing erect and motionless within fifteen feet of our table. An occasional sigh from my hostess indicates that either Ling or the view of the handsome, naked young male is having the expected desirable arousing effect. The outline of her pointed nipples pushes through the thin cotton dress. On occasion, her hand pauses halfway between her mouth and the soup bowl. She is evidently experiencing numerous small orgasms, as any observer of the incredibly licentious scene would expect. What is not expected is how well she functions while being so thoroughly orally serviced and viewing the naked body of the handsome Lothario.
While waiting for the main course she leans toward me and speaks softly.
“I’m negotiating to buy the movie studio where he is under contract. He may be spending more time here than he thinks.”
She leans back and laughs, and I cannot help but join her. The newly famous and nouveau riche Adonis will soon receive a lifetime of comeuppance at the hands of old world money. Lady Constance will offer him the choice of returning to his former world of obscurity and relative poverty or being permitted to continue to bask in fame by becoming her obedient plaything, responding to her beck and call between the filming of every movie.
“I wonder how he’d look at a Hollywood party..., naked, and secured to the end of my leash. I always try to make an impression when visiting the west coast...,”
Her thought is lost when porter number one arrives with our main course. Meanwhile, the right hand of our Adonis returns to his erect penis, gently strokes it to maintain its turgid state, and meekly returns to his head.
“Good boy,” Lady Constance calls out, then adds in a voice loud enough for him to hear, “I think he enjoys showing off for us, don’t you think Doctor? Yes, we have a very pretty exhibitionist, naked and secured. And his penis is so erect for us...”
Adonis seems to flush somewhat with the condescending remark, but his tumescence strengthens and Lady Constance laughs.
Our dinner is superb and we eat in silence. Jasmine stays in the shadows paying particular attention to the camera. We finish and the plates are cleared.
“Why not masturbate for us now? Show us how nicely you can shoot your male essence. You’d like that wouldn’t you? You certainly seemed to enjoy masturbating for those young girls in those pictures I acquired.”
Adonis doesn’t need to be asked again. He evidently has been quite aroused by his own naked display. Thus, his hand immediately falls to his appendage and begins to stroke in earnest. But Lady Constance’s suggestion seems to be a signal, for Jasmine steps away from the camera and approaches our naked entertainment from behind. In one hand she carries wrist cuffs. The cane remains in the other.
I can now better see what she is wearing. A thin leather vest with openings that leave her firm breasts completely exposed. A strong leather belt with an attachment, si
milar to Salina’s at the power plant, hints that Jasmine is also accomplished in utilizing dildos. Otherwise there is nothing. Her powerful legs and buttocks are uncovered. She smiles ominously and I shudder for Adonis who unwittingly is seeking to pleasure himself while doom approaches.
Jasmine stops at his side and our beautiful masturbator is too occupied with his own pleasure to notice. She puts down the cuffs and unties the cord holding up his neck chain. She watches with amusement as Adonis’s climax approaches then abruptly yanks on the cord, forcing Adonis to the very tips of his toes. She simultaneously cracks the cane across the beautiful, shining white buttocks.
Yes, it seems the oil massaged into his skin was not for his enjoyment. Nor was in applied entirely to highlight his nakedness for the camera, but instead its purpose was to enhance the dramatic crack of the evil and amazingly painful cane.
Adonis screams and his hand stops with the shock. He must have been very close to climaxing, for after a moment of recovery, incredibly he attempts to resume, whereupon Jasmine uses the cane to slap away his hand.
“When I say so, you’ll finish. But first, Lady Constance wants to see you dance. Hands behind you.”
There is no choice but to comply and Jasmine secures his wrists in the cuffs and pulls his hands upwards where she connects them to the neck collar.
For the next thirty minutes, our entertaining young male does indeed dance. With Jasmine’s left hand controlling the cord and chain holding his neck collar, and her right briskly swinging the long cane through the air, Hollywood’s newest star comically dances with each stroke and each tug of the cord. He becomes a puppet, controlled by the puissant black nurse, responding with alacrity to her every command while she smilingly applies the instrument of pain.
There are moments when both feet briefly leave the pedestal, which serves to strengthen the lad’s erection.
Colorful welts form on the snow white shining skin and shrieks of agony seem to spur Jasmine to find untouched areas, including the bottom of the feet which are occasionally exposed with his gyrations.
Finally Jasmine pauses.
“Waggle for us.”
Adonis, having remained erect during the entire ritual, obediently makes his penis bob up and down. Lady Constance laughs.
“Bring him off, Jasmine. It’s time for dessert.”
Jasmine puts down the cane, ties off the neck cord and stands to the lad’s side. He is now held higher than before, and almost freely hanging by his neck. The tension on his spine further stiffens his erection. Jasmine strides back to the dark corner near the camera. She retrieves something, fidgets about the leather patch over her pubes, then returns. The spotlights bring into focus a well-lubricated rubber phallus. It is large and with suspicious bumps, and I wonder if included with the afternoon shaving and body scan was the fabrication of a custom made dildo.
Jasmine positions herself behind Adonis, carefully knocks on the door of his rear portal with the tip of the hideous rubber shaft, then uses her powerful right leg to slowly push the pedestal forward.
Adonis comically attempts to keep his toes on the wooden base, knowing that nothing else supports his weight except the neck collar. The huge dildo is not an acceptable replacement. But as the pedestal continues to move and his toes reach the edge, he realizes he will soon be impaled.
Jasmine grabs the neck cord in anticipation, then gives the pedestal a final kick. With a surprisingly loud cry, bringing Motamba from the kitchen, our Hollywood idol becomes a puppet, dangling from the neck collar and impaled on Jasmine’s phallus.
Jasmine pauses and laughs, as does Lady Constance. After a moment, she grasps for his amazingly stiff and purple erection in her right hand, begins pumping with her hips, and in a display of amazing strength, pulls on the cord with her left.
She toys. Stroking the engorged shaft. Gyrating her hips and with it the dildo. Cruelly pulling on the cord.
Judging from the exaggerated look of pleasure on Jasmine’s face, it is apparent that the phallus extends and deeply penetrates her sex as well. For without regard to Adonis, she pumps away and seems to gratuitously stroke his penis as an afterthought.
Lady Constance is enthralled watching Hollywood’s latest male sex symbol have his backside so thoroughly opened at her behest and for her amusement. Ling’s head is bobbing in earnest under the cotton dress and I find myself aroused, despite just having been attentively serviced by Ming’s tongue.
After several minutes with Adonis grunting loudly with each lengthy penetration, Jasmine interestingly looks down at Lady Constance. The dominant Queen of Constancia nods and the large black hand twists and gives the shaft of Adonis a long firm stroke. He erupts, shooting his creamy wad of semen across the pedestal in front of him to the floor. He has finally been permitted to climax but only after the consent and acknowledgment of the dominant female.
Cruel, I think at first reaction. But he appears to be most satisfied and I remind myself that he is one of the few subservient males that have ever achieved such gratification on Constancia Island.
Jasmine backs away and lowers the cord so that Adonis’s feet touch the floor. Dessert and coffee are served. Lady Constance and I talk while Adonis is left to stand limply in his neck collar. He is a picture of masochism, I realize. A beautiful naked male caned and sodomized to ejaculation merely for the amusement of his most dominant benefactor. And he was so responsive...
Evil thoughts return. My evenings with Ming. My day’s journey with Big Fella. Observing Imelda’s huge breasts being milked like cow’s udders.
Then of course Lady Constance’s offer of employment stirs..., a house; my own genderless Asian servant; and she did mention a pony. Yes. I smile and look up from my coffee and inquire about the potential acquisition of the movie studio. She reads my mind.
“My agents have made a low offer. If acquiring the rights to this one’s naked flesh is a condition precedent to employing your skills, Doctor, my offer will be increased in the morning. Consider the transaction done.”
Over coffee the terms are sketched. My house is to be built on the promontory of the eastern end. Ming is to serve me and the basement storage area of the medical building is to be converted for my use in the transacting psychological experiments. Most importantly Adonis will visit for at least two months of the year and serve as my pony.
Me, transported about the island by the handsome movie star. It is a thrilling vision.
I leave the dinner table to draft a telegram to be sent to the university requesting a change to part time status. Half way across the room I hear Lady Constance command.
“Jasmine, take him to the medical building to recover. I want our pretty boy’s scrotum branded with the Doctor’s initials. That should serve to retard his love life. Tomorrow he’ll spend the day yoked on the village square. Many of the girls have seen his movies and I’m sure they’d prefer viewing and toying with his well bound, naked body to obtaining his autograph.”
The POWER...
Behavioral Modification
Lessons from Constancia Island
Chapter One
Mrs. Dalton
The exaggerated reaction of the doorman should have been the first clue.
“Good evening, Mrs. Dalton. You’re back!”
My experience as an attorney has taught me that rather tautological greetings are hasty substitutes for what cannot be said. I just nod and smile and continue to the elevator. I have indeed returned early but have had an exhausting three days in Chicago...rushing through five scheduled days of depositions just so I could get home early.
But as the elevator doors glide shut, I see my aphoristic friend pick up the house phone, though I did not hear it ring. He’s making a hurried call. Another clue.
So when I open my apartment door, call out to my husband and the smell of cigarettes greets my nose, this third clue is not surprising, but does dispirit me. Husband Ted and I do not smoke.
I immediately head for the bedroom...obviously the m
ost common setting for matrimonial misconduct. The door is ajar. The only light is dim, emanating from a small lamp on a dresser, usually used more as a night light than for illumination. The smell of tobacco becomes stronger. A cigarette smolders in the sole apartment ashtray, normally propped on the living room coffee table for occasional guests.
And there lies Ted. Naked…hog-tied…hooded by a pillowcase...extremely erect.
I can hear faint strains of music and see that a wire runs from under the makeshift hood to the stereo. The bulges in the pillowcase indicate that beneath he’s wearing headphones. So he cannot see me, and he cannot hear me.
The scene would shock most wives, I suppose. But Ted has spent many weekends trussed like a turkey or wearing frilly effeminate clothing at my behest. I Dominate...he submits...that’s the way it is at the Dalton household. But what is not the way is for him to indulge in such escapades without me.
It’s impossible to place oneself in such bondage, yet there is no one else present. A quick trip to the kitchen shows that the service door leading to the back stairway, normally dead bolted, is unlatched and open. The glistening fingers of a well-lubricated latex glove are draped over the brim of the garbage can, evidencing the presence of the co-conspirator and what was an unveiled hasty departure. I close and latch the door then return to the bedroom.
Turning on more lights I find that, as with the glove, Ted’s buttocks also glisten. My priapic but submissive husband has been getting fisted and with his display of tumescence, I must assume he has been denied climatic relief. With my unexpected arrival, a rather kinky form of coitus interruptus has occurred.
Then I see Ted’s wallet on the dresser. It is spread open and a cursory examination shows that it is empty. The cash can go as far as I am concerned. Serves him right. But the missing credit cards present potential long-term problems...including my own credit rating.
There’s no point in phoning the doorman to curtail the exit of the thieving co-conspirator. Though I am sure his warning call was well intended, ostensibly akin to a cheer from the guys in the bleachers in support of marital bliss, it gave the perpetrator an insurmountable head start. Instead, one simple phone call to a security service serves to quickly cancel the half dozen cards. I smile smugly in having enlisted the service 18 months ago after losing my purse. When the representative asks if I want replacement cards sent, I smile more broadly and decline.
The Constancia Compendium Page 29