A Gift From James

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A Gift From James Page 7

by Chris Bellows


  It was an ominous suggestion, but I did want to take the conversation away from the house.

  In everyone’s childhood there is a secret meeting place. In our neighborhood it was the area between my family’s garage and the neighbor’s garage to the rear. The area could not be observed from any nearby house. One had to walk around some bushes to enter the ten foot wide alley way. In so doing, the sound of his/her approach would give adequate notice to the perpetrators of whatever childish mischief was occurring. Enough time to hide any evidence, or scatter out the other end, or both.

  As we strolled toward the secretive corridor of mischief, Eve continued talking with authority and I suddenly realized my bump was returning!

  Again I panicked. Since it was the main subject of our discussion, Eve was sure to notice!

  I told myself to stop. Concentrate...think...but still it grew. It was beyond my ability to control.

  Sure enough, after negotiating the thick bushes, Eve again began to lecture and peered downwards as she did. She laughed.

  “Does this happen often, James. How do you stop it?”

  All her words and questions wouldn’t come back to memory. I’m not even sure I was listening at that point since I was concentrating on my embarrassing problem. But finally she suggested what I feared...and it was stronger than a suggestion, actually.

  “Show it to me.”

  I paused but did. I was so ashamed. So embarrassed. Yet so excited. I flushed but unzipped as instructed.

  Eve stooped to look closely. There was no cage wire to impede her view this time and the swollen purple head of my small erection fascinated her.

  “How do you make it shrink?”

  Naturally, it was her next question. I was in a funk. I demurred.

  My recollection was interrupted by D’s voice. I listened carefully. Her authoritative voice repeated and repeated. The reiteration was the only way to determine that it was more recording and not actually she.

  D

  It was Sunday. James needed a bath. I wanted to test the efficacy of my program. If it was not working I could easily tuck him away in his cage for another day or so. A visit to the office was required on Monday, but it wouldn’t take much time to cancel more appointments and return.

  I had mixed feelings releasing James. The sensory deprivation, feeding tubes and catheterization was the ultimate in subjugation and watching him meekly kneeling in his cage was delicious. But I needed to be serviced. One cannot eat her cake and have it too.

  The gastric tube easily slid out. I released his wrist and ankles and led him to the tub. There the anal plug was removed and I was heartened to see some of the nourishing liquid drip into the tub. That indicated his rectum was well stretched and pliable. He had to concentrate to close the sphincter. Excellent.

  Removing the catheter is always fun. It’s interesting that to maximize the enjoyment, one just has to do the opposite of what is taught in nursing school. Pull slowly and with an occasional twist.

  Quite ironic, I think to myself. Had the old time teaching nurses not been so specific in communicating the level of pain felt by the male as the tube frictions the urethra, particularly as it passes through the prostate gland, I would never know to be so devilish with the removal.

  So once again James spasms with the pain and feels the discomfort and embarrassment of my controlling hand.

  I treat him by removing the hood. The light is uncomfortable for him, his eyes have been covered since Thursday. I shower and shave him and he peers at me in my crisp, white nurse’s uniform with a far away look. Yes, the subliminal messaging is working.

  But I need gratification. Although Robert was very good on Friday night, my hormones are flowing having James’ naked flesh completely subservient to my deviant mind.

  I lead him to my bed. No hood or tethers, it’s quicker and with the acceleration of the messaging he is most compliant. I place him on his back with his buttocks just on the end.

  “Good boys get a treat, James.”

  I restrain his wrists above to the headboard. My dresser drawer yields nasty nipple clamps. Nothing he has not faced before, except these clamps have eyelets attached.

  “Legs up, James. Knees to the chest.”

  Now things will become stressful for my newly trained pet.

  I obtain two strips of fur-lined leather and some cords. The strips circle James’ thighs, just above the knees. The cords are used to secure the thigh restraints to the eyelets on his nipple clamps. James must keep his knees up. Failure to do so will rip the clamps from his sensitive nipples. And he will find that keeping his knees well up will relieve the tension on the cords.

  This leaves his buttocks wonderfully exposed. And the well stretched pink sphincter invites my attention...which it shall have.

  One last touch. A spreader bar is attached to each thigh restraint. When I work him, there will be a natural tendency for James to squeeze his thighs together. This will not do.

  “If you’re a good boy, I won’t hood you.”

  James is struggling to keep his legs up for me. Attaching the spreader bar took up much of the slack in the cords and to alleviate the stress on his nipples he must work diligently to keep his knees up.

  Knowing that he’s under duress, I slowly remove my uniform. Going forward, these will be rare moments for James and he seems to realize that my preference for keeping him hooded will probably be more common than allowing him to view me.

  But in subjugating the male, one must provide an incentive from time to time. And besides, he’ll soon be paying for the brief pleasure.

  My harness has been hanging on the corner of his cage for weeks. It is time. He’s been well stretched and there is nothing in his system other than some of the special liquid nourishment. I lubricated him after the shower, but since this is his initial introduction to the ‘man spreader’ I kindly give it a light coating of viscous oil.

  I decide to let him watch the preparations. This builds the anticipation and I want him to fully comprehend this step of his transition to subordinate male.

  I strap the harness around my waist and move to the bed. At first he is transfixed by my breasts but turns his attention to the long tube of rubber as I detach the female end of the man spreader. Just looking at it makes him cower and this excites me. My end is a rather hideous looking plug of rubber but is designed to gently abrade all the sensitive feminine parts when the phallic end is plunged deeply into the male joy hole.

  “Give it a good lick please, James. You’ll be taking very good care of this from now on.”

  Yes, James’ curiosity is piqued but he licks with trepidation. And he is right to do so. He continues to look at my breasts. He likes them and I’ll use that desire to my advantage.

  I reattach the female end, briefly spread my thighs and insert the wonderfully designed plug of rubber into my vagina. Yes, it hits my ‘G’ spot perfectly and a little extension also tickles my clitoris. Years ago, after purchasing several disappointing implements, I had it specially designed and manufactured for my genitalia, a comparatively large but most satisfying investment.

  The business end of the ‘man spreader’ is pushed through a sizable hole in the front of the harness. It juts out from my flat stomach some 13 inches and bobs about as I reach between my thighs and grasp two straps dangling underneath.

  James is now afraid. When I run the straps back between my thighs and buckle them to the back of the waist belt, the size of the man spreader is now accentuated and stands larger than any normal male. And with the cleverly placed bumps, ruts and furrows, no male ever believes his rectum can accommodate it.

  James pulls against his wrist cords in fright, however I am amused to see him carefully remain widely spread and open for me with the nipple clamps and attached cords nicely performing their function.

  “Yes, James. I’m going to open you up. The phallus is specially designed to irritate so each thrust will serve two purposes. It will cause pain and when you resist or react
to it your movement will in turn cause a most enjoyable sensation on my end.”

  I line up the bulbous tip of the man spreader with James’ pliant, pink sphincter. Knowing that he is stretched and lubed, I just thrust. And thus begins a glorious Sunday morning of lubricious pleasure.

  James

  D’s strange rubber implement hurt. The furrows abraded the sensitive skin about my rectum. The bumps pressured the prostate gland. I indeed tried to resist and as I did so D let out a noticeable sigh with every thrust, my efforts apparently adding to the arousing motion of her end of the implement.

  And then my penis engorged. More than just engorged it hardened and stood straight up defying the discomfort and bringing a sardonic laugh from D. I became incredibly aroused. Was it her power or once again viewing her perfectly shaped breasts as she ploughed my aperture.

  “Yes, James you’ll stand very nicely for me knowing you’re giving pleasure.”

  With her next thrust she grasped my scrotum and used it for leverage. As she worked her hips forward she pulled on my testicles. I gasped with the pain and she laughed again.

  “Can you take it, James? Being split wide open and sodomized by a woman?”

  She taunted me and pushed until her hips rested against my thighs, my anus swallowing every inch of the huge phallus.

  My manhood turned purple. A familiar goo oozed from my urethra. The huge penetrating cylinder of rubber was forcing pre-ejaculatory fluid from my under utilized gland. D watched with an amused look. She was milking me.

  D

  Using James like a whore produced a most sordid scene of sexual power and dominance. He lay there helplessly with his ankles in the air and his thighs well spread for me. When the conflicting sensation of humiliation over road the pain, he tumefied, an expected result from the subservient male. I pumped with my hips. The resulting friction against by little bud began a series of small but very pleasant clitoral orgasms. My end of the phallus was performing as expected.

  Then after some two dozen firm and deep thrusts, I rested. Physically, my legs began to weaken with the waves of ecstasy. Mentally, my control overwhelmed.

  While I paused, I squeezed and twisted James’ testicles, careful not to touch the penis. There would be no respite for my male harlot.

  I began again. Letting his penis just stand. Alone. Begging for attention. Its neglect added to James’ torment. His eyes moved from my breasts to the glistening rubber shaft then back when its full length disappeared inside him.

  Then I resumed my verbal taunts. How does it feel to have your backside reamed by a female, James. Your penis tells me you’re enjoying it...etc.

  All part of the process.

  I continued until I was exhausted. A vaginal orgasm came, then another and my arousal continued to excite James, the notion originating from hours of subliminal messaging tapes implanted in his subconscious. Overtime, ensuring my gratification would become his only desire.

  Completely satiated, I decided to give James his treat.

  With a final deep penetration and strong tug on his scrotum, I gave the command.

  “Wouldn’t you like to come for me James?”

  His untouched penis exploded.

  I laughed. James turned crimson with his shame.

  James

  At last D allowed my orgasm. It felt oddly pleasurable despite the pain and humiliation. The eruption of sperm covered my stomach.

  She rested, then detached the harness leaving the male end impaled in me. The female end was disconnected and she reached up and stuck the wet, odoriferous end into my mouth.

  “One of your duties will be to clean my toys.”

  She silently stepped to the bathroom. Despite my climax, I could not help watching her beautifully proportioned buttocks glide across the room. I felt a twinge in my penis, but was helpless. She had not released me and I continued to maintain the knee-chest position in deference to my nipples while holding D’s fragrance laden implement in my lips.

  My long lost, forgotten encounters with Eve, having come back to memory in the static filled darkness, again came to mind. This time while I was fully conscious. D’s program produced interesting alterations in the mind.

  While the water ran in the bathroom and D took a leisurely shower, a most meaningful encounter with Eve vividly came to life...

  Eve and I were once again behind the garage. After that Saturday when she insisted that I expose myself, our meetings became more frequent than I desired. She did not successfully coerce me on every Saturday. Sometimes I arose early and escaped to a friend’s house. But it wasn’t lack of effort on her part, for on many Saturday mornings she greeted me at my back door and under threat of divulging my lewd conduct, directed me back to the hidden outdoor corridor.

  On this memorable morning, she too arose early and caught me exiting the back door just as she had on the first occasion. Whenever she encountered me, I knew two things would happen. First, that she would stand with a look of determination and point to the garage. Second, that I would begin to tumefy as a result of her authoritative demeanor and with the thought of undergoing the humiliation.

  The meetings occurred often enough so that it became a wordless ritual. I knew what she wanted. She knew that by the time the march to the back of the garage ended, I would be erect and ready to expose myself. Nothing needed to be said.

  It was on the third or fourth ‘inspection’ that Eve again harped on the question, ‘how do you make it shrink?’

  This time she insisted on learning, and over the months since I first masturbated, I had indeed become rather proficient in making it shrink. But knowing how and showing Eve were two very different things. Did I want to further complicate our peculiar relationship? Her hold over me was great, at least I thought so at that age. She was constantly threatening to tell. And we were at the age when parents and teachers were warning all the children to be wary of people who engaged in the very acts that Eve was insisting that I perform...exposing the private parts. Whenever I hesitated in obeying her, she mentioned the police detective that had lectured us in school. My explanation of her complicity would never be believed, she would offer with a smirk.

  With Eve’s reference, I recalled the detective’s remarks and his adamant comments concerning the punishment and incarceration of offenders.

  With that thought, I lowered my pants. Under Eve’s riveting gaze and with my fear and humiliation, my young penis turned to rock.

  D

  After my shower I released James. I pointed to the bathroom and told him to clean the ‘man spreader’ then return to the cage.

  He was patiently kneeling in front of the cage door when I returned from the kitchen with his orange.

  I put him on all fours, restrained his wrists and ankles, slid on his hood, then dangled the fruit. He was hungry. I wanted more training for his tongue. After his display of obeisance in ejaculating upon my command and without physical manipulation, the need for further sensory deprivation would be limited. Perhaps as little as 8 hours per day.

  James attacked the orange. On Friday night, an errant swipe of his tongue had gathered in some love juice from my fingers. Otherwise he had not tasted anything since Thursday.

  I returned to my book.

  James

  The sweet juice was wonderful when I was able to hold the orange in my lips. But often I thrust my tongue too firmly and the fruit escaped and swung away. Then I would patiently wait for the string to steady, and again crane my neck and suction the sphere between my lips.

  With the strained procedure, I estimate it took me between thirty minutes and an hour to suck as much juice and pulp as possible, given my restrained hands.

  Occasionally I heard D laugh as the bobbing orange escaped me. And when I finished the first she silently replaced it with a second. So went the remainder of the day.

  With the tedium, my thoughts returned to Eve. Even after the many years, there always came an electric like shock to my hippocampus when I recalled her.
And with the many Saturday morning rendezvous, the one where I first showed her how to make my embarrassingly stiff penis shrink, stood out among all the others.

  I had lowered my trousers as stated but only to mid thigh. It was Eve who stepped forward and pulled them down to my ankles.

  “It’s warm enough,” she smiled with a shrug, and stared at my tented underpants.

  And I said nothing. There wasn’t much she hadn’t seen on previous Saturdays. However, I didn’t like the idea of having my pants tangled around my ankles. Before I could protest, she again stepped forward and pulled down the remaining garment. I stood more exposed to this cute little girl than ever before. The brief ‘peep’ shows of the past were left behind us at that point. For the first time she was free to inspect my scrotum and testicles, which she did. And I remember shuddering with the realization that with each one of our encounters, Eve had taken me just a little further down a path which ended I knew not where. But there was no turning back.

  “Show me James. You must be able to make it go back to normal.”

  And so I began. My early masturbatory habits involved stroking myself with my right hand and tickling and pulling on my scrotum with my left. I closed my eyes as Eve giggled, watching my hands and fingers very closely. Her childish voice made me even more excited. Unbelievably, as the waves of self pleasure rolled through my mind, I envisioned Eve!

  I imagined that it was Eve who was stroking me. With that fantasy and knowing she was in fact nearby and laughing at my humiliation, I soon experienced the ‘dry’ orgasm of youth. I let out a sigh and moments later my penis became flaccid. Eve watched it go limp, then ran off, laughing loudly, with me standing half naked, struggling to pull up my pants.

  D

  Monday I visited the office and took care of only the absolutely necessary appointments. Many of the week’s patients I called to switch to a colleague. My calendar was clear for the weeks of the planned trip and with James’ new wealth I decided to take off even longer. Perhaps I would never return to my practice, or maybe over time I would resume my practice with only the most amusing clients. Those that I could both help and torment for my own entertainment. I wouldn’t even need to charge a fee...

 

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