About Eve,

by Chris Bellows

  Chapter Thirteen

  The Princess is hungry. We go directly to our table, the location of which provides an unimpeded view of Ms. Benz plying her craft. The Princess finds the scene amusing and the curiosity she exhibits I have many times noticed in observing interaction amongst the races. This large African woman, peering at the Caucasian girl’s most intimate anatomy, appears infatuated with Mary’s white skin and the contrasting deep pink where Ms. Benz so nimbly works. She immediately directs Jahn beneath the table.

  As a courtesy, I likewise pull on Lotus’s leash and she humbly follows, making the Princess feel more comfortable in receiving oral gratification so early in the meal.

  While well-tumefied waiters bring drinks and deliver menus, the Princess and I converse. She has questions and my answers are occasionally interrupted by a seemingly plaintive cry from Mary. When we look up we find it is actually an expression of embarrassed pleasure as Ms. Benz has again turned on Mary’s fountain of arousal and more moisture finds the stage floor.

  I answer the inquiries routinely, explaining the Spa’s history, our procedures and our policies. I speak but find my mind wandering back to Lucretia and Bobbi.

  Bobbi was bending over a padded bench in Lucretia’s study. It was quite the practiced position, for his spread feet and arched back presented his rectum at just the right height and angle for the huge phallus that Lucretia wore. I wondered how many times she and Bobbi had engaged in such an activity. Since Bobbi spent each day under her tutelage I could not know, but I had entrusted her with his care, thus I could not claim that she overstepped her role.

  An interesting change came over Lucretia. As stated, but for the spandex halter covering her breasts, she was naked. And despite her nudity she became much more aggressive and authoritative. She began to chide Bobbi, barking orders to which he instantly responded, changing the position of his hands, moving his head up. My eager ‘sister’ was humbly positioning herself, anticipating the first thrust with a marked degree of sordid desire.

  Lucretia knew this. She had referred to him as a harlot, and indeed he so appeared.

  After more humiliating comments, Lucretia finally took her position behind Bobbi and placed the bulbous head of the phallus right at Bobbi’s puckered rose bud.

  “Good girls get a nice reaming, Bobbi. All ten inches. That little gland is begging for attention, isn’t it. Go ahead Bobbi. Tell me. Ask for it. Beg.”

  He did.

  Bobbi rarely spoke, both Lucretia and I having mandated his silence unless spoken to and requiring a response. So listening to his entreaties in encouraging Lucretia to impale him with the hideously large dildo was surprisingly pleasant. He indeed sounded like a very aroused woman seeking long overdue attention.

  Lucretia thrust. Bobbi cried out. I winced but also felt the familiar wetness I had so often experienced whenever a male was brought to submission

  It was evident she had been opening him over a period of time, for the unbelievably fat cone of rubber slid into Bobbi’s anus with little resistance.

  What followed was a thorough penetration, with thrust after thrust of Lucretia’s hips driving the phallus right to the hilt.

  ‘Squeeze you little whore,” Lucretia commented. The friction on her end of the penetrating implement was evidently not satisfactory.

  “Head up.”

  Her two hands reached around his chest and grasped his nipples. She used them as handles, holding on and utilizing to more firmly push.

  Her well-muscled buttocks tightened then relaxed with each thrust.

  “Yes, Bobbi. That’s better. You’re here to please me.”

  Thrust after thrust and heavy breathing.

  “Husband number one was not as tight, but he timed his contractions much better. Bobbi will learn over time.”

  Lucretia began to perspire but was relentless. After each stroke she carefully pulled back so that the entire length of the shaft exited thus maximizing the frictioning of Bobbi’s rectum with the next thrust.

  “Yes. You’re learning, Bobbi.”

  Lucretia became flushed. The female insert on her end was working its magic. It required a woman of amazing strength to accept the waves of pleasure and keep on reaming the upturned effeminate backside.

  Her hands clenched, squeezing Bobbi’s nipples. Then it happened. Fluid began running down the inside of Bobbi’s thighs. Despite the extreme penal restraints, the teeth bracelet with the special piercing entrapping his withered manhood in a metal tube, Bobbi’s glands were giving up their essence. The phallus had provided a defacto prostate milking.

  The fluid turned white and began to reach the floor. Lucretia also noticed. This seemed to spur a final orgasm from her. The notion that she as Dominant female forcefully extracted the male essence in such an ignominious manner triggered her pleasure center. She spasmed and withdrew, leaning back with a smile.

  “He is randy and tight. What more can a woman ask?”

  I was 22, quite moist and in awe of the demonstration. My feminized brother was 18 and most satiated. It was as close to a normal orgasm as he had had in months.

  After that introduction I found the amazing Lucretia to be quite the artist with the strap on. She took what she wanted from Bobbi, riding his naked body like a wild animal and by way of her insert, absorbing each pleasurable response to her deep penetrating thrusts.

  That fateful encounter ended the program of the prostate massages that Nami had so nicely demonstrated and recommended for Bobbi’s health.

  Henceforth, Bobbi’s gland would be well worked while bent over Lucretia’s padded bench.

  After a respite, both Bobbi and Lucretia regained their strength.

  “You’ll need to finish.”

  With Lucretia’s simple suggestion, Bobbi found the energy to slide off the bench to his knees. There he approached Lucretia and carefully removed the harness. Holding it in his hands like a precious object of art, he then craned his neck forward and began to work his tongue into Lucretia’s sex. She opened her thighs and placed her hands on top of his beautiful blond hair.

  “Such a sweet girl.”

  My reverie is interrupted by another cry from Mary. Ms. Benz apparently struck pay dirt with an impressive squirt emanating from the widely opened labia. The diners laugh and Mary’s right knee caves in exhaustion.

  Ms. Benz wears a warm smile of satisfaction, having worked the girl’s clitoris and ‘G’ spot for some thirty minutes. I recall Latricia’s observation and find it to be curiously true. The more shy the girl, the more essence is given up by way of her initial exposure. For a first time girl, Mary’s display is thorough, abundantly wet, and most degrading.

  She will ride the stage again at some point. But I doubt if she will ever match this evening’s performance.

  The Princess has enjoyed the show. As stated, the interracial aspects, in this case of having the Caucasian Mary masturbated before the Princess, seem to add spice. I have noticed that our black professional staff relish putting the Caucasian subordinates through their paces. This in turn keeps the guests entertained since they quickly conclude nothing is staged at the Spa. Nor is anyone just going through the motions.

  Our entrees arrive. The conversation slows with the Princess lowering a hand below the table to guide or instruct Jahn in his efforts.

  At the end of the meal, her hand disappears for a third time and a discernible ‘yelp’ is heard from Jahn.

  “I will be very happy after his training. He must learn to keep his teeth away from my bud.”

  I assure the Princess that such will be accomplished. Or, a dentist can be summoned from Calgary.

  She politely declines to have his incisors rearranged, but leans under the table and emphasizes...“but I will keep the suggestion in mind.”

  She rights herself and smiles. I envision a cowering Jahn, savoring the Princess’s nest with newly found tenderness. Having already lost his most precious organs to the whim of his Mistress, he fully realizes a visit to a dentist i
s no idle threat.

  Our dishes are removed and the newly pierced Jason stops to take our order for after dinner drinks. Still not ringed, his penis bears the temporary strand of stainless steel wire designed to allow the surrounding skin to heal without closing the piercing. It makes the tip of the penis delightfully sensitive and I cannot help having fun. I reach under the table where Lotus has been casually lapping away any remnants of my arousal. (She knows not to engage in full cunnilingus until I tap on her head). My hand glides to the end of her leash and unclip it. When Jason returns with our drinks, I am ready. I unhook his wire from the waist belt and deftly clip Lotus’s leash onto Jason’s pierced penis.

  In just serving naked Jason’s penis is semi-erect. But when his penis becomes attached to the leash and I ever so casually give it a shake, he both winces and slowly erects. The phenomenon will never cease to amaze me. A controlling Dominant female merely clips on a symbolic instrument of restraint and the submissive male becomes physically aroused.

  I explain to the Princess.

  “He is new. See how well we’ve chosen? And he’s so nicely sized”

  With my free hand I toy with his shaven testicles. Large, firm, impressive. His sac encourages stretching and I know by the time his tour is over his plumbs will be hanging to his knees, a cadre of Dominant women unable to let pass the opportunity to attach various weights. Jason’s ten inches rise to my touch. Only when fully blossomed will I walk him and I patiently enjoy the show.

  Finally...“Come, Jason.”

  I use that annoyingly condescending tone, as if addressing a child or a pet. When I arise, Jason begins to understand he will be led out by his erection. He appears wonderfully horrified.

  “Come.”

  This time my command is accompanied by the slightest of tugs and he jumps to follow before the slack again disappears from the leash.

  “His bladder is full, Princess. We develop experience in such matters. I will return shortly. Try Lotus if you’d like. Just tap her head and she’ll understand your needs.”

  The Princess appears more enthused than concerned by my departure.

  I assertively lead Jason across the room. The guests titter at the sight and Jason’s penis is so firm my hand feels it throbbing through the tension on the leash. My wetness flows. Since childhood, whenever a male is under my control it has happened consistently. I am glad Lotus awaits my return to the table.

  I lead Jason to the serving staff’s unisex bathroom. Large and open, privacy is never permitted for the Spa’s subordinates and Jason seems surprised.

  Did we forget to inform him about this policy?

  ‘Well, Jason,’ I think to myself, ‘the ability to adapt is important for a good servant’.

  In the center of the brightly lit room is a row of custom made basins, designed for both the male and female staff to straddle and do their business. Having not before seen such devices I so direct Jason to straddle and squat. Then I remove the leash.

  Jason sits with his hands on his head. It is the rudimentary instruction given to all the serving staff. ‘If you don’t know what to do or you have nothing to do, place your hands on your head’. I am heartened to see Jason do so.

  The water in the white porcelain basin should give him a clue as to what I expect, yet he sits with apprehension. I finally speak.

  “Relieve yourself Jason. I know your bladder is full.”

  He looks at me so beseechingly. It’s a good thing my black satin slacks do not easily show dampness. Lotus’s services will definitely be needed.

  I remain silent and let the humiliation build. I know that with his stiffness and bashfulness his flow will not commence. After a few minutes, I raise my hand and snap the end of the leash against the very sensitive, newly pierced penis tip. Jason screams and I smile as the engorged organ rapidly shrinks.

  I then resume instructing in my authoritative but smooth baby voice.

  “Do it for me Jason, be a good boy.”

  He summons the determination and I watch with devilish satisfaction as his bladder begins to empty, cooing during the entire process as the muscles in his lower stomach work to keep the flow going. With Jason’s unusual length, it’s like watching a dribbling fire-hose, the flow not nearly as strong as one would expect. But then, it’s only Jason’s first visit. He will learn.

  I have been at the Spa for some ten years. Initiating the newly arrived by way of the most humbling interaction has become irresistible for me. It is just one of the more pleasant aspects of my position.

  I lead Jason back to the dining room, release the leash and reconnect his wire to the belt around his waist. He has resumed partial tumescence. As I return to the table, I can’t help thinking, ‘welcome to the Spa, Mr. Ten Inches’.

  I am somewhat disappointed to see that Lotus is occupied with the Princess. But Jahn stands to her side. He has a forlorn look. Could he be envious of Lotus? The neutered blond seems to show emotion as the Princess emits barely discernible sighs of pleasure resulting from Lotus’s accomplished oral skills.

  How interesting. Perhaps he has entered that unique psychological world of the ultimate submissive, obtaining gratification only by providing gratification to others. With such aptitude, his oral talents will indeed be well polished at the Spa

  I sit and sip on coffee laced with Sambucca. I cannot help staring across the table at Jahn’s gold encrusted poach glinting in the lights along with the bejeweled but pusillanimous penis.

  So much valuable metal and so many precious stones attached to a useless organ. Such irony. But as I contemplate, I understand the Princess’s message. ‘This organ is mine to decorate and display’. In her home country, her viewing pleasure is sacrosanct.

  Perhaps it is curiosity. Perhaps it is a long day ending with a little more alcohol then deemed judicious. Perhaps the jaunt with Jason has me excited. I beckon Jahn to my side.

  He looks to the Princess who nods her approval then humbly steps around the table. Upon reaching my side he stands and parts his feet as trained. I now have a much closer view but am still curious. I snap my fingers and two male serving staff jump to the table.

  “Clear everything, leave the Princess’s drink.”

  My coffee instantly disappears along with the condiments, dirty napkins and an untouched plate of cookies. I pat my thighs.

  “Sit facing me Jahn. I want to inspect you.”

  I push my chair back and find it interesting that I do not have to direct or say another word. Jahn lifts his right leg and steps over my lap. I separate my thighs so that when he lowers himself he must part his thighs accordingly.

  The position assumed by Jahn takes me back many years to when I first began inspecting Bobby after his bath. His young penis used to rise as I applied powder and toyed with his scrotum. It is amusing that Jahn appears to be no larger in size than my young brother.

  With his arms encased in the single white leather glove I am careful to provide balance for Jahn. My hands grasp each shoulder and slowly push to lower his upper torso onto the table. There his arms and glove will rest somewhat comfortably. This changes his posture so that his genitals thrust forward. The light above reflects glaringly from the jewelry. Nothing will escape my inquiring eyes. I widen my thighs. His in turn spread more. He is wonderfully presented.

  I look to the Princess. Her eyes are closed, enthralled with Lotus’s oral delights. Thus my bold intrusion in ordering about her plaything is not of concern.

  I begin.

  Chapter Fourteen

  With Jahn’s hands and arms restrained behind his back and his thighs widely parted he is effectively immobilized, allowing me to toy and examine at will.

  I start by palming his gold leafed scrotum and lifting what little is there with my left hand. My right hand dives under to caress his perineum. If there are any male urges remaining, such will be revealed by my knowledgeable digital manipulation and the resulting twitch of his penis. Even if the appendage does not physically move, I will be able
to feel a nerve response, if there is one.

  Yes. There is a reaction. I look into his face. He realizes that I have noticed and seems to shiver with concern.

  Could it be even the slightest symbol of maleness is prohibited? He twists his hips in futile protest. With his expression of reluctance, I become obstinate.

  ‘It is I who am in control, altered one’, I think silently. And I will prove it.

  My left hand continues holding the golden scrotal sac. The attached leaf is a fascinating work of craftsmanship. Layer upon layer of thin overlapping sheets of the precious metal, each sutured to Jahn’s thin, sensitive flesh to form a covering, which is surprisingly flexible, yet covers every inch of pink skin.

  My right hand moves to his penis. It is barely visible and its diminutive size is an interesting contrast to the dozens of massive but subordinate male appendages found at the Spa.

  My fingers pinch a ring piercing the underside. I use it as a handle and tug the little worm outward as far as possible. Stretching out the flaccid male organ reveals the ultimate length. Tumescence can add some length, but proportionally not much.

  Jahn moans with a look of concerned surprise. It is apparent that he is not often touched there. His penis is the size of a child. I laugh. Jahn turns his head with embarrassment.

  “You were altered at a young age, Jahn,” I suggest aloud.

  But the thought leaves me as my eyes examine the tiny shaft. Each side has a row of gold studs penetrating the outer layer of skin. The ornate little bars are capped with emeralds. I count five on each side.

  When I flip up the penis, I see a series of gold rings piercing the underside with a ruby mounted on each. The Princess, laboring to remain serene under the ministrations of Lotus’s busy tongue, is watching and notes my interest. I look up when she begins to speak.

  “At home in the chateau, I bell him. The Presidential mansion is very large and I like to know where he is and when he moves about. It also amuses the serving staff.”