But for the first time, as my left hand toyed with my scrotum and my right dutifully smoothed its way down my youthful shaft, she reached under and between my buttocks and kneaded my perineum. I jumped. She laughed.
“Settle down James. That couldn’t have hurt.”
True. Far from pain, the divinely devious Eve had found an erogenous area I had never explored before and the touch of her fingers felt shockingly good. I resumed my efforts and she replaced her fingers. She laughed softly, apparently feeling something, probably the very root of ‘Little Dickey’ and the various male glands preparing to erupt for her.
The sensations were too much for my young system.
“Wouldn’t you like to come for me, James?”
Yes, she said that. Or at least she said something close to that. And I of course responded with the expected eruption of semen.
Over the weeks she had trained me to spurt on the towel. There was to be no evidence left on the shag rag. And besides, I think Eve enjoyed directing where her plaything should leave the evidence of her demented endeavors.
So the cloudy white goo shot forth and landed squarely on the towel. Eve was pleased and besides the obvious ecstatic physical relief that I felt, I was pleased that she was pleased.
My recollection ends when I feel a tug on the ‘man spreader’. I respond to the signal by pushing with my sphincter and for the first time in hours, I am no longer impaled.
D
Dinner went well. James has possibilities as a cook and maid, and he seemed to relish his time out of suspension and sensory deprivation. I even let him have a small plate of normal food. He will learn that good service has its rewards.
It’s a little after nine p.m. The train is speeding toward St. Paul, and I had James set up under the observation dome an ice bucket with a delicious after dinner wine.
As I sit in the stuffed swivel chair, a hooded James kneels with his head between my thighs, his lips methodically working my outer labia, nibbling ever so slightly as I have trained him. Over time he’ll slip his tongue in and lap upwards on my inner labia until he encounters my clitoris. Then he’ll suck in earnest. It’s nice to know I can relax and he’ll perform as expected.
The glass surroundings provide a romantic evening view of the moonlit countryside but also make the temperature a little cool. So as a concession I have draped a blanket over James’ naked form. When we arrive in St. Paul, Alice and Laitai will join me. Their inspection of James will be that much more dramatic when I snap away the blanket.
Laitai
Dr. Alice and I wait on the St. Paul train platform. She had picked me up at the airport in the late afternoon. We had shopped, gone to dinner and talked.
I was heartened to learn of her experience and her penchant for applying her medical skills to the benefit of the submissive male. A very magnanimous person, Dr. Alice, and I felt confident I would enjoy working with her on James.
Dr. Alice told me of the fortunate lottery winnings and suggested there would be no expense spared in bringing James to the ultimate submission.
So, when we shopped in a quaint area with numerous small shops, she suggested I acquire any equipment deemed suitable to our pursuits.
With that in mind, I could not pass up a curious leather-padded piece of furniture in the window of an antique store. I immediately recognized the utility of its design, but the ‘vanilla’ shop owner insisted it was a footstool, despite its rather large size.
Its highest point stood some two and one half feet off the floor and its top surface was sloped from left edge to right with a concave between the near and far edges. At the high end the vertical surface was not flat, but instead an upside down ‘V’ was shaped into the padding with a space at the very apex.
“Rather ungainly for a footstool,” explained the proprietor, “but it’s designed for people with leg problems.”
I managed to hide my smile. It was a birching stool, probably designed and built in Victorian England in an era when flagellating the buttocks of truculent boys was a common practice. The exceptionally low price evidenced the shopkeeper’s frustration in selling it. I thought it ironic that, placed in the proper store in San Francisco, it would sell for hundreds of dollars, if not more. And in this antique furniture store in St. Paul, the price was fifty dollars for anyone willing to carry it away.
Without having to explain anything to Dr. Alice, she quietly extracted the required cash and placed an extra twenty dollar bill on the counter.
“Send it to the train station this evening,” she firmly instructed the delighted owner. “Have it held for the westbound ‘Empire Builder’ arriving at 10:25 p.m.”
I examined our purchase as the proprietor wrote down the instructions. Sturdy iron eyelets, possibly early steel, were well secured into the heavy exposed oak wood corners. Many wrist cuffs and thigh restraints had been fastened to them. The scratched metal surfaces evidenced the futile struggles of boys who had chosen a life of belligerence and paid heavily for their transgressions.
I smoothed my hand across the concave top surface. How many tormented torsos had lain there, the curved sides hindering the natural tendency to twist and squirm under a firm, feminine hand wielding the chastising strands of birch. I envisioned the head of a struggling youth positioned at the low end, which forced the buttocks to perch atop the high end, forming an irresistible target. I moved to the high end and continued to brush my hand across the ‘V’. This was designed to force apart the thighs as the lad knelt. The missing apex provided a convenient gap where the penis and testicles dangled off the edge, the humiliation of thoroughly exposing his privates to the flagellator was deemed to be an appropriate addition to the catharsis of the physical punishment. And of course for the especially incorrigible young scamp, the well spread thighs also served to make vulnerable the most sensitive parts of the male anatomy to a simple flick of the castigator’s wrist.
It was designed for boys. But by simply raising the height it could easily be adapted for adult males.
The purchase gave us something to talk about at dinner and Dr. Alice seemed fascinated by my skills and family background.
“Generations of handling altered submissive males,” she commented in wonderment. The gleam in her eye signaled her eagerness to watch me ply my craft.
Likewise, I was eager to observe her.
James
The train pulls into the St. Paul station. D instructs me to remain kneeling between her thighs. My lips are wrapped around her swollen bud and she’s experiencing one more clitoral orgasm after an endless string.
After the train stops, I can hear voices and porters bringing in luggage. The elevated dome section is well above the platform and cannot be seen by the station passengers. D casually sips her wine after pulling up the blanket to cover not only my naked body but also her thighs.
She calls out and I soon hear the voice of Dr. Alice. Ignoring me, they exchange pleasantries.
“Beautiful viewing space D, but we’re going to need some room.”
Dr. Alice calls out, evidently to the porters and I feel the frustration of the hood. I know my uncovered feet and legs show. And the noticeable bump formed by my head on the surface of the blanket leaves no doubt as to my endeavors. But like it or not, I listen as Dr. Alice has the chairs moved while she and D make small talk.
“Put that leather piece right here in the center. The canes over there.”
The men work in silence. Their thoughts concerning our sordid pose will remain unknown. With D apparently reaching for a considerable number bills, the men thank her profusely and leave without comment.
With their departure, the voice of a third woman can be heard. More small talk ensues as D reaches under the blanket and rolls up my hood. My eyes slowly adjust and D folds back the top of the blanket.
A smiling Dr. Alice says hello, and I bow my head when she addresses me as D has instructed.
Also introduced is a very cute Asian woman. She is young and dour. When D ari
ses, she removes the blanket leaving me kneeling, completely exposed to Dr. Alice and this girl I am to call Miss Laitai.
As much time as I’ve spent without clothing, being in the presence of three pairs of inquiring feminine eyes is embarrassing. My already erect appendage twinges and D gives the command that she explained at dinner.
“Present yourself, James.”
I stand, part my feet and place my hands on my head. I never realized how I could feel so exposed with such a simple posture.
Dr. Alice just smiles, being intimately familiar with me. But Miss Laitai looks at me as if I am a side of beef. I would soon found out why.
As opposed to the reaction of most women her eyes move to my backside rather than my stiff penis. She steps forward and palms one buttock than the other, seemingly interested in the thickness of the flesh and underlying muscles. She also pointedly requests that I lift one foot than the other, carefully examining the soles and instep.
“He likes showing off, D. You’ve worked him nicely,” interjected Alice.
“Laitai spotted this interesting piece. With the private cars, I thought it would come in handy.”
In the center of the high ceilinged dome section is this strangely shaped leather covered stool. Two of the unoccupied chairs have been removed, evidently carried away to the car’s baggage room. The third has been pushed into a far corner.
“James, move this chair, to the other corner. Laitai will need the space.”
D
The remaining leg of the trip was exhausting. The train left St. Paul on schedule for Shelby, a trip of some 18 hours. It gave Laitai a good opportunity to get to know James.
I was happy to engage her services. Washing and shaving James was initially fun. But I was wearying of it over the past few weeks and henceforth that became Laitai’s chore.
She was also responsible for assuring that he remained chaste and was in the proper frame of mind to serve. The act of physically serving was not sufficient. I insisted on complete mental capitulation, and watching Laitai work, I was comforted to observe the zeal with which she executed her responsibilities.
I wanted James to be completely obedient, humble and to revere me. I also wanted him to fear Laitai, so much so that he would pine to have his head between my thighs and lick and suck my sex with relish rather than feel the wrath of Laitai’s hand. Serving me would become his only refuge. And those seemingly endless sessions impaled and reamed by the ‘man spreader’ would become welcomed recreation for him. Something he would beg for, given the privilege of speech.
And so, James was introduced to the amazingly effective trauma of not only facing the cane, but one wielded by a young but skilled and relentless woman.
Laitai began that very evening. By the time the train resumed its western journey, James was strapped to this interesting device that she and Alice procured. It was quite the procedure to observe. James’ buttocks were forced well into the air and well apart. His precious pink parts hung off the end and were perfectly exposed, held in place and dangling most temptingly between his thighs, which were forced apart by the well designed leather padded struts built into the rear vertical surface.
The thigh restraints, wrist cuffs and rounded surface held James absolutely motionless as Laitai gently smoothed a special lotion over his flesh.
“When did he eat last?” she was curious to know, her training mandating the question. For the novice, receiving the initial mind-altering stroke of the cane can be physically cathartic. Not that the experienced recipient finds the overwhelming pain to be any less so.
It had been some four hours since diner, but Laitai still placed a towel on the carpet under James’ head, as a precaution against the release of his stomach contents. The gesture was a portent of the night’s activities.
Alice inquired about the lotion, which Laitai was applying with the touch and concern of a mother tending to her newborn.
“A very old Chinese mixture formulated hundreds of years ago. It prepares the flesh by adding suppleness, thus James will be able to take more strokes without the skin breaking. It also contains a rare nerve stimulant, which serves to make the covered portion of the body much more sensitive. And amazingly, it aids in the healing process without permitting the flesh to become desensitized. He’ll feel the pain of subsequent canings just as much as the first.”
Alice and I sat in the large comfortable chairs and watched. I left James unhooded. I wanted to see his face as the first searing stroke broke what little manly will remained.
Laitai let the suspense build by casually choosing a cane from an incredibly large selection. She commented on the characteristics of each length of bamboo, and Alice and I learned that length and flexibility are apparently important attributes in maximizing results.
Finally, she began.
James
From whence did this woman come?
I would never have believed the hand of such a young and slight girl could deliver such agonizing punishment. The bamboo cane caused fire.
I screamed with her first stroke and louder with the second. Tears rolled and I could not help breaking my mandated silence to beg D to make her stop.
The sounds of a caning can be frightening. The swish. The splat. The scream. The choked pleadings for mercy.
But D and Dr. Alice just sat and watched with pleasant looks of interest, as if visiting an art gallery. With my entreaty, Dr. Alice’s hand extended from her chair toward D. D responded and their fingers touched in a strange form of communication, as Laitai applied a third stinging stroke to my helplessly exposed and upturned buttocks.
“So you like singing for me, James? It’s a song I’ve heard many times.”
Her tone reminded me of a dentist methodically suggesting that only a little more drilling was necessary, only with Laitai such words of moderation were not offered. Only the tone was soothing. Laitai’s voice was firm, even and without emotion.
The pauses between swings of her delicate arm were remarkably long. And while waiting for the fourth, I came to realize that in allowing the pain from the previous stroke to completely dissipate, the agony of each subsequent stroke was maximized. How was it that a girl so young came to so skillfully yet evilly ply her trade? Yes, I quickly concluded she was a professional, and when I realized she had been hired by way of my fortunate lottery circumstances, my frustration became pronounced.
After a sixth horrifying blow, my voice broke, causing D and Dr. Alice to smile. Laitai paused. Amazingly I jumped with the touch of her hand. Her fingers felt ice cold on my chastised buttocks and she casually toyed with my testicles and penis.
“He’s semi-erect,” she summarily reported to my observers.
D glanced at Dr. Alice with a knowing look, then nodded for Laitai to resume.
She did.
D
I would have loved watching Laitai all night. But even after the long orgasmic afternoon with the ‘man spreader’, I was too aroused to remain seated.
When James nearly swooned on the eighth stroke, Alice and I used the lengthy pause required for his recovery to exit to the master bedroom. We stripped and spent the night cuddled together naked in the large bed. Our eventual sleep, brought on by numerous ecstatic climaxes, was interrupted by occasional cries from the observation dome.
Laitai had great stamina. I’m not sure when she finished with James. But when Alice and I arose the next day, James was hooded, hog tied and naked on the floor of one bedroom compartment, while Laitai slept in the other.
Judging from the marks, Laitai concluded her introduction to James with some crisp strokes to the soles of the feet. Those are well remembered, I thought to myself.
I made coffee and Alice and I watched the countryside flash by. As the hour approached 10:00 a.m., Alice expressed desire for breakfast. I returned to Laitai’s bedroom. She was just stepping from the shower and I informed her that James was needed to serve breakfast.
“Yes, ma’am,” was her polite reply. “In the futur
e, mornings for James will begin much earlier. The late evening was necessary to establish my authority.”
Aptly stated.
For the remainder of the day, James served Alice and me. He remained naked and walked gingerly. The tenderness of his feet was evident. Laitai stood ready with her correcting cane, with James glancing her way with trepidation whenever she moved or spoke.
She chose to cane James at regular intervals. Directing James to kneel on the leather stool, the punishment was brisk, thorough and wordlessly executed. I began to understand why the instrument of bamboo was preferred by so many knowledgeable dominant females. No male, no matter his level of subservience or masochism, no matter his tolerance to pain, could possibly become accustomed to its bite. For James, the third and fourth submissions to its brutal sting burned just as much as the first, and his entreaties and antics so evidenced.
Yes, James indeed ‘sang’ for Laitai, and whereas the intra day sessions were not as lengthy as the initial evening, the pain, however brief, was excruciating. And I of course was always present to dry James’ tears, to encourage him to display proper homage to his new keeper, to mock his child-like pleadings for relief.
“Laitai is here to help you, James. She’ll make it easier for you to serve me.”
Alice and I began posture training and introducing James to the deportment expected of a servant. It was interesting to observe that he never became totally comfortable serving us nude and his penis was delightfully beyond his control. His efforts were wonderfully awkward, which we were meticulous in drawing to James’ attention and the clumsiness provided ample opportunities for correction.
Alice pointedly remarked in James’ presence that his forthcoming operation would assist with his efforts to learn proper service and I of course agreed, putting James’ gift in a positive light and planting in his mind the need for Dr. Alice’s attention.
A Gift From James Page 11