D just calmly sits in the stuffed chair and continues watching. The curious onlookers do not know that she’s viewing a most decadent scene from a rather avant-garde Greek film involving pony play, with a pair of naked muscular males straining to pull a heavy cart under the whip of a female Goddess.
After a time she looks at her watch.
“James, go to the master bedroom and remove your clothing. There is attire on the bed for you. Bring it back here with the clothes you’re wearing. Nothing else.”
I wordlessly obey, filling her glass before leaving.
As I retreat, I realize D’s stern voice seems to thrill me. I can feel a strange form of arousal knowing she has chosen to divert her attention to me. I feel privileged when she speaks to me.
But my smug feeling of comfort wanes when I reach the bedroom and spy the attire.
There on the bed lie my hood, an inflatable butt plug, and a strange implement of soft leather and cords. There is nothing else.
My mind goes into a funk. There are people on the platform. It’s crowded. It is Union Station! She must have left some form of covering for me!
And I further panic when I open the closet and see D’s collection of garments and none of mine.
I don’t have time to think. A far off voice tells me to obey. ‘Let D take charge’, it whispers. While it is a most overpowering suggestion, the thought also produces the strangest feeling of comfort.
I remove my clothing, gather everything up and humbly return to the lounge, moving quickly past windows that look out onto the station platform.
D
James may as well find out sooner then later that his luggage didn’t quite make the train. With the sizable gratuity to Angela, she was entrusted with James’ clothing and whatever else he had packed. Henceforth, what he wears and when will be my decision.
Waiting for his return I ensure the harness is ready. A few hours in suspension should put James in the right frame of mind and I unfurl all the straps. Moving a nearby stool I step up and hang the foreboding contraption from the ceiling hooks.
As James humbly enters the well-exposed lounge, I turn and calmly smile at his panicking face. His look evidences his reluctance to stand in the center where I beckon next to the freely swinging harness.
“Come, James. The station passengers may enjoy a little show. Hands on head.”
Just as he summons the courage to approach, I notice his penis begins to twitch and swell. The humiliation, the reaction to the controlling female, being naked in unfamiliar surroundings...for the submissive male, all are incredibly arousing factors, and James’ inner psyche will not let pass an opportunity to demonstrate his subservience. It’s like a puppy wagging its tail.
I laugh with the wonderfully decadent combination of his discomfort, his initial resistance, his rapid tumescence and his ultimate obedience. With his hands held high, grasping his garments and selected paraphernalia, his erection juts forth as he steps forward.
My timing is superb. The car jolts slightly. We are on our way to St. Paul, sparing James of the sordid exhibition he both fears but oddly desires. I do, however, notice two young girls who stop and stare through the windows as the car slowly rolls down the platform. Most fortunately, James also notices and in reaction his erection rises even further to brush against his lower abdomen.
James
D takes my clothing and the implements from me. She motions me to stand near the harness.
“Turn and face me.”
The waist belt is buckled around me. My wrists are drawn back than up to the waiting cuffs. Thigh straps encircle each leg and are then snugly attached to the waist belt.
D is impressively quick. Almost professional. And most of all thorough. The motion of the train swaying as it passes through curves and switches does not impede her efforts. Within a minute I stand before her encased in the harness. She seems to deliberately allow my enormous erection to frottage against her silk dress as she shortens the straps leading to the ceiling hooks.
“On your toes, please James.”
Posed as a request, her words are enunciated as a command. I comply and the connecting straps are shortened to where I cannot return to standing on my feet.
D steps back and surveys. We both look to my erection, which uncontrollably waggles under her brief observance. She laughs.
“I think you’re going to enjoy the harness, James. It can be most decadently comfortable for the obeisant male.”
She pauses to watch my penis stir. It seems to harden more and she laughs again while stepping to my rear.
“Relax and let the harness take your weight.”
D lifts one foot then the other. My ankles are brought up behind me and secured in soft cuffs on the back of the waist belt.
She is correct as always. The harness is most comfortable and I swing helplessly with the gentle motion of the train.
As expected the butt plug is next. She has come to know my aperture very well and the narrow rubber tube effortlessly slides into my rectum. Three rapid squeezes expand the plug and it fills my lower colon. Again my erection seems to harden more. I look down to see prostatic fluid begin to form on the tip.
D returns to my front and again surveys her work.
“I think you’re going to enjoy the trip. You won’t be needing these.”
She picks up my garments and steps behind me. I hear the door to the outdoor platform open. I feel a draft of cold air. I hear the door close.
My clothing has been donated to the next Amtrak maintenance crew, which happens along the track. The closet of the master bedroom comes to mind, filled with D’s garments and none of mine.
‘Let D take charge’, a comforting inner voice again suggests. And my alter ego retorts, ‘what choice is there now?’
“Hood time, James. I want to finish watching the movie.”
As D slides the covering over my head she graciously and tenderly smoothes her fingers over my face. I strain to kiss her hands.
Then I feel the headphones being placed over my ears. She has not left anything behind. I return to my dark world of static.
D
Such a good boy, James, calmly hanging, naked and erect as I sip more Champagne. The ‘man spreader’ is packed, but not far away. Maybe I’ll entertain him with it after the movie and a nap. Then he’ll serve me a nice dinner.
We’re scheduled to arrive in St. Paul at 10:25 p.m. where Alice and Laitai will join us. From there it is onwards to Montana where our cars will be separated from the Amtrak train, and we’ll await our own locomotive to take us into Canada.
Without clothing for James, getting through customs will be a hurdle, but I’m sure something can be arranged...
James
There is something unusually titillating about full body suspension and the male anatomy. With the straps comfortably holding my weight, my spinal cord sends peculiar signals of pleasure to my lower body. My erection seems to flourish and feels as if it is no longer connected to me. It just juts forth and gently wags with the motion of the train. With the shifting car the position of my butt plug continuously pressures my prostate. Licentious reminiscences cannot be avoided...
I think about the two young girls who peered at me through the moving train windows as we left Union Station. In displaying my nakedness and my tumescence, I became sickened by my arousal and I again think about Eve.
Eve has the camera. We have retreated to the backyard corridor, which we frequent in order to engage in forbidden childhood behavior. It is Saturday morning. I have silently lowered my trousers. Eve no longer has to command such, but this time she wants my shoes and socks removed and after giving the command she waits with a look of impatience. Never within her authoritative demeanor is there a hint of concern that I will not do her bidding. And that’s what always made it so easy for me.
‘Of course you’re going to remove your shoes and socks, silly. Eve told you to’. My subconscious speaks and justifies my odd penchant to comply. And I fin
d myself obeying without hesitation.
As I bend to do so, I hear the first click of the camera. I am surprised, thinking that Eve would just want to highlight that part of the male anatomy that most interested her.
But afterwards, I realized, she wanted a collage of me performing for her. Obeying. Responding to direction. There could later be no doubt that I was reacting to her and the camera. With a stand alone photo someone could subsequently argue it merely represented an isolated snapshot of an unsuspecting adolescent in a solitary embarrassing incident. But with a sequence, no such explanation could prevail.
No. The devious Eve was going to have a scrap book of James. An obedient James. A naked James. An erect James. A masturbating James! And it would begin with me taking off various articles of clothing under her direction. And end...where?
My penis was turgid, of course. Both Eve and I had come to expect that. And after my shoes and socks were cast aside she instructed me to step out of my lowered trousers and under pants which encircled my ankles.
The camera clicked as I set the garments atop my shoes. She paused to let the film eject and the ‘ready’ light to return to green.
“Show me again how you make it shrink, James. I liked that.”
And I did. Standing nude from the waist downward I worked my hands and fingers. The camera clicked. Again. And again.
Eve was laughing but managed to hold the lens steady. And when she moved in for a close-up of the purple, enraged tip, I closed my eyes in shame. In doing so, I once more visualized Eve. Again it was not my hand so vigorously pumping my young penis. It was Eve’s. She was manipulating and controlling my appendage and my body and my mind.
The clicks seemed to come in an endless progression and then...it happened. That familiar yet overwhelming wave of pleasure, the sensation of my legs weakening, and then Eve let out a disgusted ‘Yuk!’ as the camera clicked once more. I felt wetness.
I opened my eyes. For the first time a white goo had erupted as a result of my firm, feverish strokes and Eve’s camera managed to capture this seemingly strange event. That Saturday morning a boy’s puberty had manifested itself and, by happenstance, this unyielding, dominant young girl witnessed my passage into manhood, the sight of my genitals spewing the effluent of life.
Eve let out another ‘Yuk’, but took the time to record my wet hand and the dribbling remnants of my ejaculation.
I often wonder if she understood, at the time, what had happened. In school, the girls were taking separate health courses and there was a prevailing rumor among the boys that the curriculum included detailed discussion of the reproduction system of boys. And indeed, but for the verbal exclamation, she was undaunted by the seemingly strange white mucous which initially shot out in an arc to form a small puddle on the impacted soil and moments later turned to a drool which slithered down my right hand.
So she remained and clicked away as my penis shrank and I felt a new and heightened sense of shame and humiliation. Her last shot was of my reddened face and sheepish look of embarrassment.
Then she picked up my pants, threw them up onto the garage roof, and merrily skipped away with the photographic chronicle of my first ejaculation.
I was left naked from the waist down. After a minute or two to recover my energy, I stealthily climbed a nearby tree, reached over to the garage and retrieved my pants.
As I dressed, something told me my life would never be the same.
Deep down, there was an unexplainable sense of enjoyment in performing for Eve, however wrong it was. But I again rationalized, perhaps all too conveniently, that I had no choice but to obey. And even at age 13, I had the sagacity to realize that, with her pictures, Eve’s demands would soon become relentless. And after that morning, indeed they did.
D
The train is speeding through the Wisconsin countryside. James hangs most docilely and I feel my sex drive slowly simmering. The movie ends and I found it to be well done. Watching the dominant Greek Goddess work her naked charges then glancing over to observe my helpless, naked and erect James gently swinging in harness adds quite a dimension to my arousal.
The shades are drawn up and on two occasions the train slows to pass through local stations. Some folks waiting for commuter trains seem to gape, but it is difficult to determine whether it’s the site of the nineteenth century rail car or my well-bound traveling companion that draws their attention.
My fingers slip between my thighs and gather the moist evidence of my enjoyment of both the movie and his delicious submission. I move to my harnessed plaything and tenderly apply a fragrant coating to his lips and nose treating him to a sampling of my arousal. He stirs and licks my hand then thrusts his hips forward in a vane attempt to frottage his erect penis against my skirt.
I decide it’s time for the parachute. Alice wants has scrotal sac stretched a little. James brought the simple device from the bedroom and the leather strap with attached cords is easily secured. With James’ penis standing out of the way, it’s just a matter of drawing the testicles down and encircling the top of the sac with the short strip of leather. Then the cords hanging beneath need to be gathered and an appropriate weight attached. For James, I rig a small cloth basket into which I can casually toss various objects to increase the weight. I start with a cocktail glass from the bar. After placing it into the net, it occurs to me that a simple method to add weight would be to fill the glass with water. Easy enough.
He takes to the parachute well. In the mind, the pain and discomfort apparently homogenize with the input from the subliminal message. Thus, other than an initial groan, James remains docile, despite the weight hanging from his precious organs.
Yes, I conclude, I’ll open him up before dinner. He’s been good. And in another hour, the subliminal message tape will have run out. He’ll then be ready to accept whatever I wish to give. I’ll have him dangle atop the man spreader and give him a good reaming, a suitable follow up message.
After an hour or so the Champagne takes its toll and I sleep, curling up on a nearby couch and drawing over me a thoughtfully placed afghan. I cannot help but pleasantly dream. The world is a subservient oyster named James, and what a pearl I found within.
James
The suggestive voice again calls out from afar, barely perceptible within the static. I listen intently. Whatever it is saying, I want to learn since it’s D’s voice. And with the scent of her sex on my nose and mouth, I settle into my bonds, listen and inhale the pleasant aroma of the woman who owns my soul.
Then Eve steps into my reverie. Another mental return to my adolescence begins to unfold. This time it is late afternoon. School is out and as stated I try to avoid Eve. Her increasing power frightens me, although with puberty, I find myself masturbating constantly to thoughts of her and the strange trips to the back of the garage.
She is not in any of my classes so most times I can evade her by leaving the school building through a little used door and walking a circuitous route home. Usually these precautions serve to successfully avoid her. But on this occasion our paths cross. I recall pondering at the time whether she had long known of my unusual departure route and, when the desire to confront me arose, merely waited for me to walk into her trap.
So there she stood outside as I carefully pushed open the rarely used exit door.
She looked radiant as ever, not experiencing the pains of puberty as with others our age. Her aura did not suffer from the awkwardness that inflicted so many of our classmates. Her complexion was clear and her breasts were beginning to develop in a most attractive manner. Unlike her peers, her body had filled out with neither the plumpness nor the disproportional growth of limbs so prevalent in the early teens.
She displayed that infectious smile which adults found charming, but her acquaintances knew masked a remarkably devious 13 year old mind.
Thus, I could not help but find her alluring despite her duplicity. I often compared my attraction to her to be akin to my thoughts of the local amusement par
k roller coaster. The mind recollects the ride as pleasant. But in actuality it was scary.
So it was with Eve. And on this day, as she beckoned with her finger, my level of anxiety was similar to sitting in the front seat of the roller coaster as it was slowly drawn up that first high incline. It is ironic that the view is best just before the precipitous, stomach churning fall.
“Mom’s taking my sister to get new shoes. No one’s home and I have some pictures to show you. You may carry my books.”
It was not a suggestion. I humbly joined Eve for the walk to her house.
As stated, she lived near my home. Therefore no one would question our fraternization. But I began to tremble, fully cognizant that association with Eve always involved her extracting whatever she desired. And what she desired invariably meant my engaging in some bizarre activity designed for her pleasure and my extreme embarrassment.
But was I trembling from fear or excitement? The anticipation of her first demand?
When we turned the corner and stepped onto Eve’s street the inevitable occurred. My young penis began to harden. I moved the books lower in my arms, hoping to cover the telltale bulge, but Eve knew all too well what was happening. After all, it had been some two or three years with many strangely libidinous rendezvous since that first fateful encounter in the mink cage.
When I shifted my arms she smiled, revealing how well she understood me and my youthful organ. Just the act of carrying her books, serving her, precipitated an odd form of arousal and she knew it. She planned it. She expected it. And I found her to be frustratingly correct in her unannounced assessment...that a part of my psyche enjoyed serving her...being with her...performing for her...yet fearing her.
We entered her house by way of the side door.
“The basement, James. I’ll be back.”
She pointed down a flight of stairs then took my books and hers. I stepped down into darkness. After three steps the lights came on from a click above and I could see to weave my way past various cloth draped items of storage.
A Gift From James Page 9