A Gift From James

by Chris Bellows

  My fortitude always seems to endure the first stroke. It’s the second where I choke back a scream. And of course with the third, I begin to ‘sing’. Loudly.

  Once I can no longer hold back, the air just rushes past my vocal cords with gusto and with the start of my serenade, Ms. D always smiles.

  On this evening with the tormentress of my youth sitting beside her, I involuntarily sang with particular volume, as Ms. Laitai forcefully applied the nastiest of implements.

  As Ms. Laitai had explained to me, the catharsis chases away the frustration of the unachievable orgasm. And when Ms. D noticeably enjoyed the sound of my ringing bells and cacophonous song, I felt an odd gratification. I was serving her, pleasing her. And so when she hiked up her skirt and opened her thighs to reveal to me her beautiful pink pudendum, I sang to her with added zeal.

  By the sixth or seventh stroke Ms. D extended her hand and dabbed away my tears. The tenderness with which she performed this function was always interesting when juxtaposed to the firm, painful strokes delivered by Ms. Laitai.

  I licked her hand in gratitude. Eve laughed.

  I nearly swooned somewhere near the twelfth stroke. I never count. It is Ms. Laitai who decides the final blow. Counting would merely add another dimension of frustration in attempting to anticipate a final stroke.

  When my restraints were released, I crawled closer and placed my head between Ms. D’s thighs. There I licked and sucked as I had so ardently been trained. Ms. D’s sex was wonderfully fragrant, Ms. Laitai’s skill seeming to arouse her time after time.

  Eve, impressed with my servility, laughed again, reached over and patted my head.

  “He always was so eager to please.”

  My childhood ‘friend’ arose.

  “I still have photos of you masturbating for me, Jami. Perhaps I’ll send them for D’s enjoyment. And for you too, as a reminder that you really haven’t lost anything of consequence.”

  Her irritating laugh faded as she stepped into the hallway.

  It was the last time I saw Eve. The next morning we packed. Our private cars awaited...

  Epilogue - D

  Laitai, Jami and I toured western Canada and the northwest U.S. for many weeks. Jake and Luther left us to our own pursuits and were very helpful in scheduling and routing our ‘train of debauchery’ and suggesting places to visit.

  Alice had purchased those branding irons in Shelby and I had fun showing them to Jami and thinking aloud as to where he should wear my mark.

  It was humorous to observe his most effeminate reaction to the thought of his smooth, recently depilated and newly softened skin being scarred with a searing hot iron. Hormones do so much make a difference.

  When we returned to St. Paul, I indeed bought that large old house and refurbished it to best suit Laitai and our needs in caring for and training my new pet. Money was no object and many of the subtle things found at the spa were included in the renovation, such as convenient eye-hooks and other preconstructed devices of restraint and discipline.

  With the large house, I contacted my cousin and had her return my dog. There was now plenty of room for the large mastiff , which I affectionately named ‘Gonads’ or ‘Nads’ for short.

  Yes, as the reader may guess, since Nads was never ‘fixed’ he had a very sizable pair of plumbs hanging under his tail. And I had great sport with Jami, referring to Nads as the ‘man of the house’ and making clear to him that, in the household order of priorities, Nads was to be treated with the same respect as Laitai. It was Jami who would serve as pet.

  Within a few weeks, Eve indeed sent some photos from Jami’s youth. Such a wonderfully precocious and diabolical girl she must have been! Jami trembled looking at them, and strangely, he also tumefied to the point where he requested a visit with Laitai.

  As a return favor, I sent a ‘family’ picture back to Eve. Me standing, regally attired and holding a leash in each hand. One emanates from Nads, sitting upright in a chair to my left, his wonderfully large and purple testicles draped in front of him on the white upholstery. The other leads to a collared Jami, kneeling to my right, his hands submissively placed atop a beautiful head of styled hair, a small erection standing and his spread thighs positioned to highlight his empty scrotal sac, rings and bells to the camera. Such a provoking contrast...

  I might add that whereas I can control Nads, since I’ve known him as a puppy, he does get a little feisty at times and can be particularly truculent with Jami. I’ve theorized that the behavior results from Nads demonstrating his male dominance of the household. It is during those periods that I am glad to have kept the large cage. Yes, for his protection I open the door and with a snap of my fingers, Jami reluctantly enters. I keep him caged while Nads freely roams the house and satisfies himself as to Jami’s inferior status. And the look on Jami’s face is priceless, particularly when Nads pushes his snout through the cage bars, forcing Jami to move and cower at the opposite end. There he sits helplessly until Nads calms down and I decide to release him.

  Robert has become Jami’s financial advisor, which irritates my plaything to no end. The appointment provides many opportunities for Robert to stop by the house. Typically Robert narrates a financial report while Jami kneels before him shining his shoes. He details item by item how quickly and extravagantly I am spending Jami’s lottery income. Then we retire to the bedroom, throw off our clothes and make passionate love, with an emasculated, naked and collared Jami watching, of course. If he becomes aroused, I call for Laitai.

  And I am happy to report that with Jami’s alteration, his aptitude for service greatly improved. For example, no longer does he express reluctance in providing oral service during my delicate time of the month. And I can move about my boudoir naked yet comfortable that a subservient Jami will not assume my nudity to be a prevarication for having sex. Thus, I can have him help me dress without incident. An intact male would become too aroused.

  Also, to better serve my male friends, I have suggested that Jami learn the art of fellatio. In a curious surprise, he expressed no objection. Robert will just have to put aside his homophobia if he expects oral sex in my household.

  With Jami’s softened hands he has learned to provide great massage and one of my favorite ways to spend a Saturday evening is to be immersed in the large tub I had installed, along with a naked Jami who’s duty is to massage me. Toying with his rings and watching his penis twitch as he soaps me is very amusing. When it stands I always ask, ‘Shall I call for Laitai?’

  On so many occasions, as the frustration of the ‘cliff hanging’ orgasm builds, he will nod affirmatively and I, in turn, gain another opportunity to listen to his song and dab away his tears.

  It is amusing to arrive home on Friday evenings and find a humble and naked Jami, lying supine on my bed in the knee chest position. Lubricant glistens in the area under his empty sac and the ‘man spreader’, carefully lain out and equally lubricated, awaits my adornment. Yes, Jami has learned that despite his alteration his prostate still craves attention. In so posing on the bed he reminds me of a dog sitting up and begging for food. Most times I accommodate him. But if I’ve had a trying day, I merely call for Laitai and have him caned instead.

  But during those times when I so deeply ream his backside, I dearly enjoy listening to his bells and using his scrotal rings for leverage and control. Toying with the latter causes him to slowly erect. It is small and amusingly soft, and I cannot help but taunt, “wouldn’t you like to come for me, Jami.”

  Epilogue - James

  “And step, and kick, and step and kick, and on your toes, and kick again, and time your bells.”

  The horrid instructress barks orders with a thick accent. The cadence of her voice is in time to the music. And I follow, closely. Very closely, having experienced on too many occasions the wrath of her nasty, short quirt.

  Yes, Ms. D has mandated dance lessons. Every week Ms. Le Treau comes to the house and the large gymnasium, installed with my money, is turned i
nto a dance studio. Typically ballet music blares and Ms. Le Treau, being a traditionalist, has Ms. Laitai dress me in a short tutu which fails to cover any pertinent parts of my remaining anatomy. It’s abbreviated length ends just below my waist.

  It is challenging, the purpose not only to maintain stamina but also to develop coordination and finesse.

  “I want to be served with grace,” was Ms. D’s directive to Ms. Le Treau, when she was first engaged.

  And endless Wednesday afternoons are spent attempting to please this most demanding insatiable woman from the Alsace Lorraine area of Europe.

  Her affinity for both corporal punishment and tender oral caresses she explains through the German and French influence in the small region where she was born. Alsace Lorraine borders the two countries and through hundreds of years of conflict has been ruled by both France and Germany. Thus, her odd accent and seemingly conflicting penchants for sexual pleasure.

  “My Teutonic heritage tells me to flog...my French ancestry craves the tongue of the submissive male.”

  And so here I am, dancing, kicking, and pirouetting...hoping that when finished the French influence will prevail and my tongue will be permitted to gratefully bring her to multiple orgasms without need for the sharp bite of her quirt. I can only hope.

  Ms. Le Treau uses the bells to determine the proper timing of my movements. Attached to my nipple rings and scrotal rings, they tintinnabulate with every movement and the demanding woman can turn her back or close her eyes and still determine whether my untrained, semi-graceful motions meet with her exacting standards.

  Sometimes Ms. Laitai watches. Sometimes Ms. D stops by and the level of degradation becomes particularly heightened when she has a male friend with her. It’s one thing to serve as a maid. It’s another to dance before a man when half naked in a pink tutu.

  Still, the exhausting afternoons with Ms. Le Treau are more acceptable then Fridays, when Ms. Laitai takes me to the beauty parlor.

  There I put on quite the show, stripped naked while a bevy of cosmeticians, all heavily compensated by way of my sizable cash flow, work to ensure that my body hair remains completely depilated. That my shoulder length hair is impeccably coiffured, and that the pedicure and manicure meet Ms. D’s standards, not to mention the facial make up of Ms. D’s choosing.

  The younger, inexperienced girls titter at my altered state. And sometimes Ms. Laitai amuses them by toying with my scrotal rings and showing them the resulting tiny erection, which I can still achieve.

  And I sit and take it. Yes, I know it pleases Ms. D, and it’s my lot in life to please her and amuse people at her behest.

  And during the stressful activities I am reassured knowing that in time, I will be back in her bed or perhaps kneeling before her. Permitted once again to not only gaze at her perfect feminine form, but when she deems reward is due, permitted to serve her with my tongue. To lick and savor her fine sex. To bring her to orgasm. Our orgasm. The one that I can no longer achieve but can smell, taste, see and feel through her.

  Other Books by Chris Bellows

  Female Submissive Erotica

  The Last Pony Girl

  The Incarceration of Jennifer

  Prince Imay’s Palace

  Lesbian Erotica – Ship of Remorse

  Femdom erotica by Chris Bellows:

  Lady Constance

  Constancia Island

  About Eve

  The Male Concubine

  Interview With Mrs. Carlotta Fenwick

  Behavioral Modification—Lessons From Constancia Island

  Tales From the Estate

  A Sadist’s Story

  Collared & Leashed

  The Interrogator

  Pink Flamingo Publications

  P.O. Box 632, Richland, MI 49083, 1-877-629-0051

  E-mail: catalog@pinkflamingo.com

  Website: http://www.pinkflamingo.com