“Well, he’ll no longer be a bad boy,” she suggests in open thought. “A bad girl maybe...but not a bad boy.”
I join her in laughter.
“How far did you go with the modifications?” I feel myself forced to ask.
She explains. She takes her time. I learn more about the ASBM and Constancia Island.
“Deep psychological counseling...physical capitulation to the Dominant female…some necessary physical alterations.”
A second round of drinks arrives.
“When the sun goes down, there comes an immediate chill off the river,” she suggests as maid Teddie steps back into the living room.
We follow him inside and she slides closed the door.
“So he’s impotent?” my curiosity persists in me asking.
Mrs. D laughs.
“Quite the opposite. His penis swells and stands firmer than ever. He just can’t use it for anything. And with the psychological modification, the hormonal buildup is transmogrified to this incredible propensity to be of service.”
I know maid Teddie can hear us talking. The effects of his alteration are apparently a topic for open discussion. Plus there is the embarrassment factor to which Mrs. D alluded.
“He has the most marvelous need to be subjugated. And his oral service is unsurpassed...come here Teddie.”
Our effeminate maid immediately approaches.
“Your tongue.”
It seems to be a familiar command. The wet and pink length of flesh protrudes well beyond his lips. It juts forth as if it is not attached to anything and there are grotesque bumps in places that a single and concupiscent girl like me considers to be obscene. I feel a twinge within my loins just imagining to what good use such an appendage could be put.
I cannot help but laugh.
“And he’s so eager to use it,” Mrs. D suggests as she playfully diddles the wet surface with her finger and then gracefully pushes up on his chin to signal withdrawal.
“Let’s eat.”
Teddie has set a very elaborate table and we feast. His effeminate walk and struggles to remain perched on the highest of heels brings smiles, but his service is superb. When he returns from the kitchen to clean the table of plates, which once embraced slabs of thick prime rib, Mrs. D tenderly caresses the bulge under his apron front.
There is no doubt as to what is beneath. Teddie blushes but shows no resistance. The bulge grows.
We converse. Teddie works. Coffee is served and as our maid pours for Mrs. D he leans and mumbles something in her ear. She smiles and speaks loudly, as if admonishing him for his hushed tone.
“Well, I am sure Matilda can assist. I’m getting a little tired of the routine.”
A key is pushed my way. Mrs. D has had it around her wrist attached to a cute charm bracelet. It is small, precisely crafted and appears to of a very strong alloy.
“It’s nothing really. He’ll show you what needs to be done.”
There is a look of panic on Teddie’s face but he wordlessly turns and steps to the arched dining room entranceway. There he humbly stands in wait with his arms positioned unnaturally straight at his sides. He is repressing any body motion. Mrs. D nods to me then picks up her coffee to sip, indicating a pause in our conversation.
I arise. Teddie turns, enters the living room and I follow him, continuing to the bathroom.
There I receive a most pleasant but curious shock. Teddie Dalton raises the tiny maid’s skirt with the apron attached. Beneath, as I suspected, there are no undergarments. But what startles is the sight of his phallus. It is somewhat engorged and locked in an upright position with nothing below. He notices my consternation and turns to display his finely tanned and hairless buttocks. Between the globes, at the apex of the curve, rests his scrotum entrapped by numerous thin strands of leather all coming together to form a single strap which is connected to this band of metal around his waist.
He slurs some words and points and I see the object of his communication. It is a tiny padlock that holds the strap up and forces his testicles to rest in such an unnatural configuration.
I cannot help but smile as his gestures become animated. Though I cannot understand a word I unlock the padlock and watch in amazement as the collection of leather, testicles included, swings down to his knees. He reaches down and grabs the strap and pulls it to his front. Then he sits on the john and I understand the whole encounter. Teddie needs the key to use the bathroom. How devilishly dominant.
For some reason I cannot resist taking the strap in my hands. I gently pull upwards and Teddie’s fine genitals arise. He has an amazing long scrotal sac and I knead his gonads with thumb and forefinger. When he empties his bladder without use of his penis it comes as no surprise.
Yes, as Mrs. D suggested, Mr. Dalton has been altered.
Having a man by his balls causes arousal and I become mischievous.
“So you now squat to pee, Teddie. Just for what do you use that penis? I guess it’s quite the ornament for Mrs. Dalton. You’ve got no use for it.”
Teddie blushes divinely. He wipes himself and I wonder who taught him and how humiliating it must have been the first time he had to squat like this.
Well, Mrs. Dalton wanted to embarrass. And she’s the boss. So when he stands I release the leather strap to let his testicles swing to his knees. I reach out and find the clasps for the brief skirt, unsnap and pull the abbreviated garment away.
“We’re really all girls here, Teddie. You won’t need this.”
I laughingly toss apron and skirt into the nearby laundry hamper. When I turn back Teddie the maid has a much thicker penis locked to his waistband and his tanned skin has turned crimson.
“Come. I want to see you serve dessert.”
I take the strap again. I step to the door and tug. I can feel wetness between my thighs. I have a man by the balls.
Chapter Thirty Five
Mrs. Dalton
Having Matilda work Teddie is one of my better ideas. A dominatrix herself, though inexperienced and rather frustrated in her search for a proper relationship, I know she will not shrink in horror with Teddie’s modifications.
So when she returns from the bathroom leading my obsequious maid by his scrotal strap, I am warmed.
“I am happy to see you could be of assistance,” I offer in encouragement.
She sits and Teddie serves dessert naked from the waist down. After two trips to the kitchen, however, I take the time to reconnect his parachute to his waistband. Teddie has enough trouble walking in heels without having his overly long sac in the way. Besides, when it is pulled back and locked in place it has the effect of displaying his organs like the plumage of a peacock.
The humiliation keeps him stiff. And Matilda has a difficult time concentrating on dessert...a soufflé that has been baking while Teddie was forced to entertain in the bathroom.
We finish and Teddie serves a rare port. Matilda is a loyal secretary and deserves a touch of the good life. And it is amusing to see that she cannot take her eyes off Teddie as he so humbly stands ready to serve.
Then I remember a little gift forwarded by the staff at Constancia Island after I paid the bill. Judging from Matilda’s reaction to the evening’s escapade I think she will enjoy the clever affectation.
“Teddie, go get your pedestal.”
His face betrays the slightest cringe...a sign of negativism for which he will pay. But he turns and hurries off to the den.
“The wonderful women of Constancia Island sent me a little gift. They have the most interesting equipment.”
My maid returns with a finely crafted shiny piece of metal. I release his scrotal parachute and remove it. Matilda gasps when she sees his freed testicles swing about. Obviously she has never seen anything like genitals stretched by the expertise of Lady Constance’s Bagandan women...and it is a sight to behold.
“The lubricant.”
Teddie is ready as expected. I apply viscous lotion to a section of the metal apparatus, which w
ill slide into Teddie’s rectum. Milled by Constancia Island’s computer controlled machinery, the sizable bulb is perfectly crafted to fit based on Teddie’s magnetic imaging scans. The shape is tapered. His sphincter will hold it in place.
“Turn, spread and bend, Teddie. Show Matilda how much you like to show yourself.”
He complies, of course. I hook one end of the curious contraption to his waistband. A slim bar of smooth metal fits between his buttocks and the anal plug is perfectly measured to slide into his rear portal. As I do so, the opposite end rises between Teddie’s thighs. I must be careful to align a little nub designed to fit into Teddie’s new pee hole. When I finish there projects to the front a little tray...a pedestal. It is cupped and crafted to hold Teddie’s useless testicles.
He knows to straighten himself and turn to me. I arrange his fleshy pink scrotum so it lies in the tray. It appears as if someone is cradling them in the palms of their hands. The device is held in place by the connection at the waistband and the anal insertion.
Teddie is completely exposed...forced to show off his maleness for the Dominant female. Really they are my organs...rendered useless to him...I just like to look at them and show them to friends...like Matilda.
Teddie’s erection swells unbelievably. I have never seen him so hard. And he blushes like a young girl.
I send him for more port. He walks gingerly with the length of metal between his thighs. The little nub abrades the urethra...as intended. His balls bounce in the pedestal with his every step.
Our conversation leads to my little birthday gift. Yes, Matilda’s libido is stirred by my exhibition of total control and I know her choice of subject matter is deliberate. She thanks me again. She was enthralled with the stern Nurse Jasmine and her delivery. She would like to visit the Island some day.
And then comes the question I have expected for most of the evening.
“But he receives no sexual gratification at all?” She inquires.
“He is psychologically satiated by serving women. That’s how he’s been programmed...for want of a better word. But physically there are certain procedures that are required from time to time.”
This intrigues Matilda. I hint and reference the den.
“I have had to diversify my collection of instruments. It seems a simple crop will no longer suffice.”
We watch Teddie clear the table. When he stands near Matilda it appears as if he is offering her his testicles as some kind of exotic dish. She smiles.
I decide to step up Teddie’s discomfort and signal him to move to me. I remove his blouse. He is now totally naked but for his heels and his maid’s cap. His nipples are crinkled in excitement. I have inserted simple beaded bars into the openings made deep under the areolas at Constancia Island. I am planning expensive jewelry for him...but that can wait.
“I’d like to see your collection.”
Yes, of course you would, I think to myself. What aficionado could suppress the request?
I smile. Perhaps I have invited her for that purpose. Has dinner been a subterfuge I have unwittingly perpetrated on myself? Perhaps…but Matilda is certainly interested and she has not been the least bit shy about Teddie. And I myself am prepared. Beneath my elaborate dinner gown, I wear nothing.
“Bring more port into the den, Teddie. I want to show Matilda my collection of rattan.”
Yes, I have found need to use the den for more than just office work. Working the doorman was enjoyable so I installed some very subtle eye-hooks and purchased an ottoman which to the uninitiated appears to be nothing more than an elaborate foot rest.
As I show Matilda the various whips, crops and canes, the subject returns to Teddie’s gratification.
“If you’d like to put off your evening excursion to Greenwich Village, perhaps Teddie can receive some ‘gratification’ this evening.”
Matilda has been so loyal and I know she has my best interests at heart at all times…so she smiles.
“Your neighbors will not hear the noise?”
“This room adjoins my own bedroom and the pantry. The floor and ceiling are thick. You may flail with impunity.”
The minx removes her ornate dinner jacket to reveal a sleeveless bodice. I could not have recommended a more suitable garment to free the arm for a brisk caning.
“You would not mind if a seek my own satisfaction while you work him, Matilda. You’ve seen the elaborate altering of his tongue.”
We know each other so well after five years of working together...she just smiles with the thought.
“Teddie, get yourself a Kotex and then come back and position yourself on the ottoman.”
He appears most forlorn yet his well secured penis twitches in anticipation.
“He secretes terribly when he’s excited. The caning causes the most interesting release of sperm.”
Yes, Teddie will effectively masturbate himself into the Kotex covering his new opening...feeling nothing but the shockingly crisp pain of the cane. On the first occasion he wet the ottoman. Now I know better and adhere the absorbent pad to cover his new opening.
I hike up my dress and position myself in a very comfortable chair. Teddie’s tongue and lips will service me until Matilda’s arm tires. With its new length and implanted bumps he can actually service my ‘G’ spot.
Such a pleasant way to spend an evening.
Comments, criticisms and feedback are welcomed. [email protected]
Other books by Chris Bellows
(available at Pink Flamingo’s new site (http://www.eroticbooknetwork.com)
A Gift From James
A Sadist’s Story
About Eve
An Interview With Mrs. Carlotta Fenwick
Becoming Miss Ashley’s Pet
Behavioral Modification - Lessons from Constancia Island
Collared & Leashed
Constancia Island
Feminine Governance
Feminizing the Belligerent Male
Lady Constance
Laura Davidson Keeper of Men
Lessons in Discipline and Servitude
Milking Male Essence
Miss Elizabeth’s Captive
Naked Rendition
Of Male Chastity
Penance Corporation of America Books I & II
Penance Corporation of America Book III
Prince Imay’s Palace
Ship of Remorse
Supplication of the Male Pig
Suspension Bondage
Tagged
Tales From the Estate
Taming the Virile Male
The Blacksmith’s Daughter
The Conquerable
The Decision
The Entrapped
The Gimp
The Incarceration of Jennifer
The Last Pony Girl
The Male Concubine
The Predator
About the Author
Chris Bellows, a nom de plume, is single and on the north side of middle age. He lives an astonishingly ascetic life in the New York metropolitan area.
After a lifetime of reading erotica, Chris began to write some ten or more years ago when he found the quality of the store bought material which he formerly enjoyed reading had deteriorated into ‘mush’. With fervent fingers and well worn keyboard, his hard drive filled, yet his early efforts did not initially meet his own standards. He continuously honed and polished until finally, with the completion of ‘Lady Constance’, he produced a work which he deemed worthy of publishing.
Pink Flamingo had the best author’s guidelines and after submission and acceptance in January 2001, Lady Constance was published and the relationship has continued to the present day. Most of Chris’s work can be found on Pink Flamingo new site www.eroticbooknetwork.com.
Other offerings maybe found at www.lulu.com.
Writing erotica..., strong, unbridled, always attempting to push the bounds of ‘conventional’ D/s..., has become a daily passion for Chris. He endeavors to make his story
lines unique, avoids vulgarity, abhors the sophomoric onomatopoeia of flagellation stories, and constantly seeks to ‘work outside the box’.
Chris writes in many different genres, salting female dominant themes with male dominance and vice versus. He writes credibly from many viewpoints including ‘first person female’. He avoids duplicating themes and attempts to introduce new forms and methods of manifesting sexual power exchange with each story, a trait which has become an unwritten warranty to his readers.
There is no prepackaged format for Chris’s work product, and he has turned down offers from other publishers when such have sought to trim his efforts in order to more suitably conform his writings to their envisioned ‘box’ of erotic offerings.
The results speak notably..., readers with an interest in D/s who will be surprised, enlightened and entertained with each unique plot and storyline.
Chris enjoys reading and responding to readers comments. Visit his blog, http://chrisbellows.blogspot.com. He can be contacted at [email protected].
For a complete catalogue of Erotic Fiction… write, email or call:
Pink Flamingo Publications
P.O. Box 632, Richland, MI 49083, 1-877-629-0051
E-mail: [email protected]
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The Constancia Compendium Page 44