Miss Elizabeth's Captive

by Chris Bellows

  And with all the cathartic trauma, the legal bravado, the well prepared and rehearsed legal testimony and documentation, I could not help admiring my blonde ingenue. In a way, ‘her’ fine acting was communicating a provocative and suggestive thought, ‘join us, there is indeed no escape but there will be more kindnesses’.

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Within a minute of the hiatus brought by Suzanne Regal’s departure, I began to understand the need for her dramatic exit. What Liz was leading to could not, should not be heard or witnessed by an officer of the court.

  I had a reputation for skillfully negotiating complicated deals, in poker parlance, somehow turning a meager business hand into a modest win or perhaps even better. But in this negotiation I had nothing. This was no hand with which to start.

  “I assume that if you just wanted me in jail, I would be wearing a striped uniform and be so ensconced right now, Liz,” I offered in deciding to break the ice first.

  “It’s still ‘Miss Elizabeth’ and will continue to be ‘Miss Elizabeth’,” she corrected me with clear firm, enunciation.

  “Suzanne gave me a briefing on American law in this area of jurisprudence, Sam. I was not happy with the range of punishments. Jamie is my property. Royal property. For trifling with such in my home country the penalty would be severe.

  “You broke the rules and will pay. Troublesome enough that I had to buy an apartment building, hire that senescent boss of yours and toy with MacDonald Bear stock just to find a companion for Jamie.

  “Now I have to pay a lawyer to retaliate for the defamation of his character. His interests are also mine.”

  Miss Elizabeth finally smiled...evilly...her joy seemed to be brought by my look of perplexed horror as the realization dawned concerning the depth of all her misdeeds and conspiratorial acts.

  “Yes, Sam, you’ve arrived in the very place where I wanted you. But you took a rather alarming path. Releasing yourself was not expected.”

  I sat dumbfounded. Miss Elizabeth bought my building, hired away Winston, and manipulated MacDonald Bear stock to dry away any potential I had for denying her control and maintaining a safety net of independence.

  I finally recovered enough to make the bottom line inquiry. “What is it you want?”

  She sat back in the large swivel chair and confidently turned her head to Ms. Grace Hobson, sitting and quietly relishing my groveling state of shock.

  “What does Mr. Winthrop owe MacDonald, Bear on his stock loans, Grace?”

  “With interest to date, $617,953.”

  “And the value of the stock held as security?”

  Ms. Hobson snorted with that question. “At today’s opening, $235,500.”

  Miss Elizabeth turned back to me. “Well I wanted to assure your financial ruin, but you were well on your way to doing that on your own,” she snickered. “I’ll take the stock and pay the loan. Consider it another kindness, Sam. You’ll joyfully sign the papers and be happily rid of the monetary millstone. I have a short position to cover. Believe it or not Sam, ensuring that your financial position would disintegrate has been quite lucrative. MacDonald Bear stock has done nothing but plummet since I began selling short.

  “Grace, I trust MacDonald Bear can accommodate a minor request for relieving the firm of such a questionable loan.”

  Ms. Grace Hobson, unbearable termagant, nodded and smiled like a child being handed a treat.

  “I’ll want to ensure that his licenses are revoked. Can’t have a person with such dubious financial prowess and unsettling morality consulting with the unsuspecting public.”

  “The requesting letters to the SEC, NASD and various securities exchanges have all ready been drafted, Liz. Given the circumstances, it will be a pleasure to dispose of this matter for nothing more than the cost of postage.”

  Well, the career was ended. Glad I did not spend much time on the resume. There is no job market for barred investment bankers. But to think that Miss Elizabeth went through all the time and effort to ensure that my personal net worth, or rather negative worth, would erode, boggled the mind.

  “Excellent. You may consider the eviction notices as remaining in force, Sam. Therefore, I think you’ll be needing a place to live.”

  She paused. Obviously waiting for a response. Perhaps a plea. But what would that do? The colorfully narrated scenes of Miss Elizabeth as a little girl zealously watching the floggings and later gleefully assisting with the castrations flashed into my mind. What beseeching statement could I make that a prisoner, condemned to lose his masculinity, had not before uttered?

  And that thought spurred my question.

  “Do you want my balls too?” I sarcastically blurted.

  Miss Elizabeth smiled warmly, contemplatively, then her face shifted to a demonic look of wickedness. “No, Sam. That’s too easy. I wouldn’t want to be so quick to relieve you of the encumbrance of constantly seeking to rid yourself of your male seed.

  “No, I want your penis. Not the whole penis, Sam, just enough to leave you with continence but at the same time to constantly remind you of your misdeeds. I will arrange the procedure be without burden for you, taking care of the cost and the details. And afterwards you’ll forever have a place to live and have employment, working for me and Jamie. And I offer this in contrast to jail time, poverty and very dismal prospects for future employment. Consider it as one last kindness.

  “Are you aware of all these new sex offender laws, Sam? Suzanne Regal can be a very formidable jurist and I doubt you’ll escape her clutches. Your alternative to my proposition will involve facing a lifetime of very restrictive regulations even after parole and your release....”

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  “The auction went well, Sam. Netted over $16,000. We’ll put it toward what you owe me.”

  Miss Elizabeth stands arms akimbo informing me of the results of disposing of my personal effects. I nod as best I can. I cannot speak as my pierced tongue is extended well beyond my lips and held there by what appears to be a simple pair of parallel chopsticks.

  Miss Elizabeth wants my tongue lengthened and I have learned over the past months that Miss Elizabeth always gets what Miss Elizabeth wants.

  Meanwhile the glorious Jamie is positioned beneath me, dutifully holding a beaker under my penis and patiently waiting for me to empty myself. I have over the past few weeks become accustomed to performing for Jamie. The little darling is very attentive, feeding me, bathing me, occasionally releasing an arm or leg for stretching. Such kindness.

  Since signing the papers, I have been held in my suspension harness and hung from the pulley in the examination room. Miss Elizabeth needs to freshen her mind concerning my long term usefulness, the depraved ‘assault’ on little Jamie’s backside and having to watch it in high definition color being deemed very distressful.

  It’s been two weeks since that fateful meeting at MacDonald Bear and I can say with great fortune that my penis remains. Unfortunately its fate will come. Jamie and Miss Elizabeth are constantly discussing what type of penectomy will best modify my behavior, with Jamie’s adoration pressing for a minor alteration and Miss Elizabeth insisting on a ‘meaningful shortening’.

  “He’ll need to constantly be reminded,” Miss Elizabeth argues.

  “You can always take more later,” rejoins little Jamie. “You said he was for me. And I like watching it stand.”

  The decision was finally made in consultation with Nurse Stenson, purveyor of special care to altered males.

  “You don’t want to have to keep him in diapers,” was her sole input in noting that full penectomies most times result in incontinence and the constant need for precaution against infection.

  And so a decision was made and a date has been scheduled. I have three days remaining as an intact male.

  “Sue Regal dropped off a copy of the complaint prepared against you Sam. It’s been filed with the Superior Court Clerk and can be brought before a judge with a simple phone call. So if you choose t
o change your mind...”

  Yes, Miss Elizabeth has made it that simple. With a phone call, civil action will commence, and with Ms. Regal’s connections at the prosecutor’s office, criminal charges will be sure to follow. And the reason for the delay in filing?

  ‘The traumatized victim has needed counseling, your honor, and has not been mentally able to endure the pain of reliving the horrific crime.’

  I can so easily picture the stern but unctuous Suzanne Regal, attorney at law, casually explaining away the weeks of procrastination. The law in fact permits years of delay.

  But it is an unnecessary precaution on Miss Elizabeth’s part. I have no job, no home, and now no clothing or other basic personal items. There is no money for an adequate defense therefore the only other option is to plea bargain and go to jail.

  But Jamie takes care of me. After shaving me, the little minx licks away and adoringly watches Little Sam rise. Chastity prevails, of course. But it’s nice to see the little guy engorge. His full tumescence will soon become something of the past.

  In a strange way, I am eager to get the procedure over with. Afterwards I am told I will be more free to move about and Miss Elizabeth has hinted at me possibly assisting Jamie with her duties in the Mistress’s boudoir.

  And as for Jamie, I am still undecided about his participation in the elaborate conspiracy. I have so much time to think, dangling in suspension day after day, but still cannot conclude. Has Jamie been playing along to please Miss Elizabeth, as a loyal and obsequious servant would do? Or does he truly want me, to care for me, to toy with Little Sam...to own something that was taken from him at such a tender age?

  “Time to sleep.”

  Suspended in a comfortable body harness with knees folded just inches from the floor, Jamie and I are face to face. The tiny manicured hands plug my ears and then a thick hood is drawn over my head. In total darkness, I will indeed sleep, the weeks of bondage becoming strangely acceptable. And I will dream…of Jamie...the blond ingenue Jamie...and of Miss Elizabeth...dashing, authoritative Miss Elizabeth. And Little Sam will celebrate his relative freedom by stiffening in the middle of the night as I fantasize. As always, he continues to have a mind of his own.

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  Wealth can command such power. It is amazing to think that Miss Elizabeth has the resources and influence to engage the services of one of New York’s top urologists and have her perform a questionable, if not totally unnecessary, procedure.

  Nurse Stenson recommended Dr. Cynthia Wilson and the coterie of Dominant woman continues to impress.

  “Ms. Mouquoud wants only local anesthesia, Sam. She insists. I’ve got your signature on the consent forms and the releases. You should understand the procedure and I’ll go over it one more time.

  “And please, no tears. Be a big boy for me.”

  Easy for her to say, I thought to myself. Her aphoristic admonishment begs the question as to how often she performs such alterations. “What Ms. Mouquoud has requested is basically termed a degloving of the penis tip. In other words, I will be removing the sensitive flesh at the end and on the underside which comprises the main pleasure centers. I will not be affecting or altering the corpora cavernosa, commonly known as the erectile chambers, and therefore within a few weeks of the procedure you should be able to achieve erection. It will be shorter of course, as Ms. Mouquoud has demanded, and you won’t have anywhere near the former sensitivity, but bad boys need punishment, Sam. And I understand you’ve been very naughty.”

  Yes, Dr. Wilson seems to approach the procedure with exuberance, actually playfully toying with my ear as she enunciates her ending words with mocked seriousness. Hanging in suspension, her trifling hand causes me to helplessly swing. And long after she has departed I will sway, forcing me to think about her ominous visit.

  With no general anesthesia, I will be watching as Dr. Wilson’s skillful hands deglove Little Sam.

  “What will it look like?” I humbly ask stumbling over the words. With tongue freed of its daily stretching, I can talk, but with a piercing quite similar to Jamie’s, the words are difficult to properly form.

  Dr. Wilson smiles with my question. “I haven’t really decided yet. You‘ll have to wait to see what kind of mood I’m in on the morning of the procedure. Sometimes if I’m irritated I’ll suture the remaining skin very tight and you’ll have a little pencil tip to show off. Other times, I’ll take the time to add shape. Best think of it as a surprise.

  “And Ms. Mouquoud has also asked to me to inject a little something that will help you make the transition. Just a little Botox.” With that, Dr. Wilson turns to leave, walking sprightly with my question seeming to place her in a very pleasant frame of mind, I suppose reminding her of the power she will wield.

  “Will I be able to ejaculate?” I call out in desperation.

  Dr. Wilson pauses at the door and looks back with a devilish smile. “The Botox will address that problem. We’ll discuss it after you’ve healed.” Then she waves so insouciantly and steps out, leaving me to slowly swing in harness, pining for Jamie’s tender touch.

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  “Ms. Hobson is here. She needs you to sign some things.”

  Pretty Jamie makes her announcement and looks at me with her clear blue eyes. She’s been exercising, necessitating the wearing of a loose sweat shirt and skin-tight, panty-like shorts which hike into the crease of her buttocks with her movement and show the halves of her smooth cheeks.

  Little Sam celebrates her presence. With the days and days of forced chastity it doesn’t take much to draw his attention and get him to sit up like a begging dog.

  Jamie just smiles at the reaction and gently diddles the soft under of the frenulum. It could be the last thing felt there. Tomorrow is the day.

  Her hands work to release my right wrist. She is adept, doing the same every morning to permit stretching. She is very kind.

  The giant harridan enters, smiling like a hungry cannibal at a feast of human flesh. Her eyes immediately go to Little Sam and she laughs.

  “Almost his last stand,” she murmurs under her breath. “Good to see you,” she unctuously proclaims out loud.

  Dressed more casually, Ms. Hobson displays shape. Not a feminine or alluring shape but a purposeful shape. Baggy and excess clothing in the office always made her appear frumpish. For the first time I notice that well fitting slacks and a tight sweater reveal that, whereas she has size, it is not excess fat that misleads a viewer’s impression. She is very tall with broad shoulders and thus loose clothing suggests plumpness. There is none.

  “Some papers dealing with the distribution of your meager savings plan and what little compensation you elected to defer. I’ve made it all payable to Elizabeth, of course.”

  My signature is required. Thus the need for her proximity. With the humiliation of being so ignominiously displayed, I remind myself that she has before seen me hanging naked. But for whatever reason facing a one time colleague well trussed and with Little Sam showing himself for Jamie, is mentally taxing.

  “You’ve kept yourself nicely conditioned, Sam.”

  Ms. Hobson holds the papers in her left hand, bolstered by a writing pad to accept the impression of the pen. While I sign her right hand brazenly moves to my chest, smoothes over that portion of pectoral muscling not covered by a supporting strap, then pinches my left nipple. At first it is a playful pinch, but she continues pressing until I wince and futilely wrench against my bonds.

  “So sensitive,” she laughs.

  Finished signing, she steps to my side and the right hand explores my buttocks.

  “Have you ever been whipped, Sam, caned perhaps?”

  Her demeanor has much changed. She’s pleasant, agreeable, though her beefy hand explores with irritating impunity.

  I hypothesize that the change is predicated on my vulnerability, physical, financial, every aspect of my being is open to her whims. Ms. Hobson is in control. I am no longer a threat, someone who can in
any way impede her fiefdom. She has won a very short but significant battle in assuring the demise of my career and in assuming the reins of MacDonald Bear’s investment banking function.

  I know the herd mentality of my peers and can hear the office talk, ‘if she can do that to Samuel L. Winthrop, III, she can do it to anyone’. I ponder the contents of the interoffice memo circulated to explain my abrupt departure. I am sure in some way it extols the managerial prowess of Ms. Grace Hobson and spreads both fear and respect for her renowned infighting capabilities.

  And now she celebrates. I feel like a big game animal snared by the great white hunter Ms. Hobson, and she is visualizing what I would look like mounted above the mantel of her fireplace.

  “There will shortly be a time when you will develop the urge to feel pain...cathartic pain. The reaction of the psyche to such is quite similar to that of pleasure. But pleasure in the manner to which you are accustomed will be denied to you. And you will find sharp, extensive agony to be a suitable substitute.

  “And I will help you, but you will have to ask”

  Hanging with my bent knees just inches from the floor, my face is at the level of Ms. Hobson’s enormous chest. Even with her baggy office attire, her massive mammary glands were prominent. Now in tight woolen sweater they seem to fill the room. She notices my stare, smiles and then wraps her arms around me, and pulls toward her, drawing my freely swinging nakedness into her huge form. She is amazingly strong and forces my face between the large twin hillocks outlined by the soft wool. Little Sam presses against her slacks. It feels good and I involuntarily thrust my hips to frottage against her leg.

  Ms. Hobson laughs, knowing that she is causing turmoil in initiating such tantalizing interplay.

  “I’ll be here tomorrow, Sam. I would not miss your meeting with Dr. Wilson’s scalpel for anything. It will be quite the comeuppance. And later, as you heal, we’ll play. You’re going to get to know me very well.”