Miss Elizabeth's Captive

A quivering hand slit the top with my souvenir opener. I drew out a note from Liz, along with a videotape.

‘Jamie would like to see you on Saturday. Plan to stay for the duration until Monday morning. No need to pack anything. Call for details after you’ve enjoyed the tape.’

Liz signed the note in her precise Middle Eastern hand. Her signature was not fancy... the three letters plainly written to communicate purpose, not style or fashion or frivolous intent. And the purpose was for the reader to understand precisely who wrote the note.

I pressed the intercom and commanded of my administrative assistant complete isolation. Liz probably did not realize that I had a television and VCR in my office. At times, breaking news and events were key to the business and deals were occasionally presented by way of videotape. Thus I am sure, in delivering the tape to my office, she intended for me to quake in anticipation until I arrived home to view it. And if that was her intent, she was partially successful. My hand trembled as I slipped the cassette into the machine.

My television lit up with a close up of a very familiar figure. Me. Kneeling, naked, amazingly erect and trussed like a turkey. I immediately recognized the venue. It was Jamie’s ‘examination’ room where Friday evening’s escapade had ended.

Brightly lit, floor tiled in white with matching walls, stainless steel table, metal stools and cabinets, the windowless room was oddly large for the bathroom of a New York apartment. I am sure it was converted from one of the original bedrooms of which Liz had a half dozen.

I never noticed the camera, obviously hidden behind the huge mirror covering the wall opposite me. And the tape must have been edited from a very long recording of the evening’s events since the figure facing me on the screen had a shaven pubic region and a long rubber tube hanging from between his inner thighs. The shaving came before the inflatable anal plug, tube attached, was inserted into my rectum.

The look on my face was both comical and pitiable. I had spent the past four days trying to forget the strange happenings and here I was graphically being reminded... and in my office! There was no sound and I leaned to turn up the volume. Within a second the voice of Liz boomed and I had to quickly turn the sound down.

“Hello, Sam. Just our way of cajoling you to make the Saturday evening appointment. I have another tape, somewhat longer, in an envelope addressed to your building... 35th floor. Perhaps you can pick it up and deliver it yourself. If not, I can mail it on Monday.

“And Sam, when you arrive, you’ll find there’s a small closet in the foyer to your right as you exit the elevator. Your clothing is best left there on Saturday. You won’t be needing any.”

The short tape went blank and I quickly hit the reject button and threw it into my brief case.

The 35th floor housed the executive offices of MacDonald, Bear & Co., prestigious Wall Street investment banking firm and my esteemed employer. Liz’s ominous words left me in even greater shock than viewing my shaved, plugged and tumescent nakedness, suggesting that a similar tape, but probably even more sordid, would be, in my absence on Saturday, delivered to those controlling my livelihood.

It was blackmail, nothing more, nothing less, and so smoothly executed.

I put my feet up on the desk trying to relax and think. The motion caused my underwear to rustle against my shaved pubes and the feeling caused Friday evening’s finale to rush through my memory despite every attempt to vanquish the recollection.

“Castrated males require special attention and medical care, Sam. Little Jamie spends much time here. I have a special nurse come in every week and having a well equipped and antiseptic room seemed most appropriate. Thus the apparent austerity.”

Liz spoke as Jamie, hand firmly wrapped about my scrotum, directed me to kneel on a rubber pad. Liz handed him a metal bar and he clipped it to my ankle cuffs to force apart my feet and thus my knees and thighs. Liz sat on a stool to my side. At the time I had not a clue that her chosen place of observation deliberately was out of camera view.

Jamie worked at a sink and moved to a cabinet and back. My eyes followed the girlish naked form about the room, still gawking at the peculiar beauty as I had done the previous Saturday. That which I could not see directly my eyes captured in the opposing mirror. On this visit there was little alcohol to blame for my infatuation. I had not finished either of the two margaritas offered. There was no wine. No, this time it was dead sober admiration of a androgynous body frozen in time by the cruel hand of a Dominant woman...by a slowly tightened strip of thin wire...followed by two quick incisions and some heartless snips, I kept thinking.

Forever young... I reminded myself.

Then the child., blond tresses, manicured nails, rouged nipples and scrotal sac, bejeweled and pierced erogenous zones, smooth and finely shaped buttocks, turned to me holding a basin in one hand and a frightening straight edge razor in the other.

I pictured my own testicles falling prey and shouted ‘No!’ My voice cracked with the emotion and the protest was emitted so pusillanimously that Liz laughed.

“Jamie just wants to see more of you, Sam. You’re just to be shaved.”

And I was... with Little Sam standing for the entire procedure and Liz sitting and watching as the hermaphrodite had his way. I was forced to kneel in my bonds while shorn of pubic hair.

Liz spoke affectionately of Jamie as attentive little hands dutifully worked my flesh.

“When our flight arrived in New York, we stayed in a hotel and shopped for a few days before boarding a train to Providence. Jamie relished being permitted clothing, to a certain extent. As his hormone level slowly adjusted, his preferences gravitated to fine silks and satins, very brief under garments, and jewelry. He earned every diamond, Sam, through a very lucrative system of rewards for services rendered. Jamie is not just known for his fellatio, as I am sure you’ve gathered. The first item acquired was that delicious knob piercing his tongue. I tried many different shapes and sizes before finding one that titillated to my liking.

“And where better to have a castrate properly pierced and cared for than Greenwich Village. Off beat, discreet, every proclivity respected and catered, professionals who rarely question relationships. Jamie requires estrogen... or rather I insist that he have it. Notice the perky nipples, the soft sinewy muscles, the atrophying penis. If not for the specially crafted Prince’s Wand it would slowly disappear. That wouldn’t do of course, since I want him constantly reminded of his alteration. But that’s what one can accomplish in New York. A city of great opportunity.”

Liz laughed with her observation as Jamie lifted my scrotum, angled the razor perfectly, and drew the blade for one final pass. My privates had been denuded and a warm and wet towel felt strangely good in enhancing the feeling of nudity there.

It was then that the inflatable anal plug appeared from a cabinet with the long tube attached. It ended with a puffolator bulb. I had seen one before on a device for gauging blood pressure. Jamie donned latex gloves and moved to my rear. Tiny fingers lubricated my rectum. The deflated plug felt huge and I cried out as he slipped it past my tight unused rear portal. Liz chuckled.

“You’ll be opened there over time. I enjoy toying with the male gland...so nicely tucked away...but so readily accessed by the knowing.”

To my chagrin, Jamie handed the puffolator to Liz, sitting regally perched on a stool while I humbly knelt, newly shaved and plugged.

I thought about her comments about control. I thought about my tastes in women: authority, panache. In her black leather, insouciantly watching a naked Jamie prance about under her tutelage, toying with my nakedness, there certainly was a control element.