The Party Boy

The metal tube, somewhat bulbous at the insertion end, will glide well into Jack’s urethra, the well designed ball challenging his passage way and finally coming to rest where it will ceaselessly abrade his prostate. I like having Jack constantly reminded he’s under a woman’s control, feeling slight pressure on the uniquely male gland at all times.

“Wow,” the girl exclaims, apparently not present earlier when I first made Jack presentable for the party. “He’s kept in chastity.”

I smile.

“It’s business. Have to keep my mate primed and randy... for the next show.”

I explain as Jack lurches, another bull’s eye to the prostate gland. Next I retrieve the remainder of his cock cage. A large supporting stainless steel base ring, hinged to open, eyelets permitting it to be locked closed, is slipped over his penis, the top resting at his pubic bone. Tucking his testicles and long scrotal sac through is a bit of a chore, but nothing I have not done many times. This brings the bottom of the support ring to rest at the perineum. I close it, the circle of metal snugly capturing his entire male package.

Next comes the cage, slipping over his flaccid penis, quite tightly, and greeting the top of the base ring where the eyelets join. There I push through a small padlock, both attaching the cock cage to the base ring and securing the loop closed. Lastly, the exposed end of the Prince’s Wand is slipped through a matching opening at the tip of the cock cage. There a tiny eyelet is aligned with an eyelet at the bottom of the cylindrical cock cage. With the snap of another small padlock, Jack is returned to chastity... rather thorough and aggravating chastity... forced to urinate through a steel tube.

I want him always eager to be released.

“Wow,” the girl repeats. “I’d like one of those. Expensive?”

“Yes,” I nod, patting Jack’s balls, “but for us, tax deductible,” I add with humor. “Go ahead and mingle with the girls, Jack. But hands on head... always.”

“I’d rather not, Miss Kelly.”

So shy in the afterglow of spending his seed.

“Then go perch yourself on the stool and show off for a while. I’m going to have one more glass of wine before we leave.”

It is comforting for me to exhibit Jack in chastity. It empowers. Sends a message.

Chapter Sixteen

Yes, one more glass of wine and I politely listen to some conversation. But I do not participate, my mind wandering.

Exhibiting Jack, humiliating Jack, excites. My own needs are percolating and I’m moist, as are probably many of the other women, should they have propensities in line with mine. The advantage I have is that I’m taking Jack home with me and my concupiscence will be well addressed.

Yes, I have availed myself of Jack’s tongue and lips for many years, his cunnilingus is perfect.

It began with Jack coming to the age when sex, the curiosity about such, preoccupies the male mind, despite the clinical prostate milkings which came with almost every daily bath.

That is when I reported... misreported... his alleged bed wetting and was given carte blanche to deal with it.

So, one evening after a thorough milking, I began a new protocol. Jack, naked as always when alone in my presence, began to inquire about girls. Because of our relationship, me as governess, perceived asexually in Jack’s mind, having access to every inch of his superb anatomy, my ward felt no compunction, no shyness, about inquiring of the female anatomy.

“Why do they call it a cunt? And what does it look like?” he brazenly posed one evening sitting on my lap.

My two fingers were working his prostate, my right hand forcing his erect and dripping penis to point to the tiling. Jack was idly being milking, that clinical procedure of slowly draining him

“The female sex organ is not to be so addressed by good boys. That’s a nasty pejorative. Pussy is more polite, but both terms encompass the female genitalia... which is rather complicated Jack,” I lecture.

“I’d like to see one.”

Of course, you would, you’re a nasty male, despite being obedient to me and constantly under my thumb, I think to myself.

The discussion gives rise to thought. I can’t have Jack approaching girls at school, asking what their cunt looks like. And his early conduct, that which prompted the need for my supervision, comes to mind... spying on the maids during certain delicate times of toilet and bathing.

So with Jack coming of age, it seems my efforts have been to delay opprobrious conduct, not rid him of it. I quickly conclude it is better that I work to temper such potential conduct, not ignore it.

“You must be taught to have respect... and admiration... for women and the female form, Jack. Tonight I will begin the first of many lessons.”

Seeing no more dribbling effluent, I push Jack from my lap. I then move to a cabinet where waiting is the thick canvas diaper.

“Come,” I said while wriggling my finger holding up the imposing garb.