“Here, Jamie.”
The vixen obediently moved to Liz where she put aside the puffolator and retrieved the small key from a wrist bracelet. The tiny padlock holding Jamie’s small penis in the upright position was removed, freeing the emaciated appendage, after which he returned and began rubbing against me with renewed enthusiasm.
I was being used to entertain Liz and also to stimulate Jamie...the neutered Jamie...the pretty Jamie with no testicles and the puffy nipples, and the beautiful girlish buttocks.
And then a most frightening thing happened. My macho revulsion left me. I craned my head forward as best I could as Jamie continued his strange lap dance, pressing his tiny penis against me, grinding his buttocks and causing the cute globes to clench and flex in the mirror before me. Little Sam was permitted to occasionally rub against the smooth hairless legs as Jamie moved about. I extended my tongue and Jamie stopped so I could lick the puffy nipples which so resembled those of a pubescent girl. First was the right and then a smiling Jamie gracefully turned his torso to allow access to the left.
“It’s the estrogen, Sam. It places the castrated male into a curious stage of development, resembling puberty. Thus his need for my control and direction.”
As I licked and sucked in a frenzy, I felt Liz working the squeeze bulb and Little Sam reacted like a puppet on strings. Then Liz pulled and the neck collar tightened. I had to withdraw my tongue lest my own teeth sever a fleshy bud with the tension on my jaw.
Liz put down the puffolator and tied off the heavy cord, leaving me half hanging. She arose, stepped to my rear and did something to secure the spreader bar, thus prohibiting me from drawing my knees up to a squatting position.
“Come, Jamie.”
A disappointed Jamie stepped away like a well trained puppy, which I guess he was. And then they left me there...anal plug forcefully pressing my prostate...tension on my neck producing the most pleasant traction on my spinal cord...ankles attached to spreader bar... wrists cuffed high and secured behind my back.
They left the door open behind me. The mirror revealed some movement in the room across the hall. Within minutes the walls reverberated with moans of ecstasy and bursting words of encouragement. When Liz received pleasure her voice lowered and became soothingly commanding. And so as I helplessly hung, knees just barely touching the rubber mat below, I listened as Jamie arduously serviced Liz with his tongue, bringing climax...again...and again...and again.
She was insatiable and very demanding, graphically instructing Jamie as to where his tongue and lips should caress, knead and suck.
The cab finally arrived, interrupting the mental replay but permitting a thought to occur.
There was obviously a camera behind that mirror. And obviously it was connected to a recorder. Could it also have been hooked to a television monitor in the bedroom where Liz was so fervently serviced by the orally truckling Jamie?
As I directed the driver to Liz’s apartment the thought could not leave my mind...my exposed, shaven and enormously erect phallus served as a catalyst to a lengthy session of cunnilingus. With the inflated plug and the tension on the neck collar, Little Sam posed in full tumescence, serving as visual stimulus for the entire oral dalliance.
How devious and deviant! I felt even more used.
I was the condemned thief in the Palace Square, well bound, erect and waiting to be flogged.
Liz enjoyed control. On that night she certainly had it and reveled in it. Judging from
the throaty sounds emanating from the room across the hall, she experienced a half dozen powerful orgasms.
Chapter Fifteen
The cab ride was short. Liz’s doorman was expecting me and nodded to proceed without announcing me.
As instructed, when the elevator arrived at Liz’s floor, I paused for the doors to close behind me and quickly doffed all clothing. The small closet was where Liz suggested and was empty except for two umbrellas and a broom. I hung my pants and shirt and stuffed my socks and underwear into my shoes for easy locating later.
Naked, I rang the doorbell with haste, lest the elevator return with another guest or to deliver quite a surprise to a visitor pressing the wrong button.
Within several disconcerting moments the apartment door swung open and there stood a very shy Jamie, fully clothed. On this occasion there was no question as to the gender portrayed.
Tonight, Jamie was a little girl!
‘She’ just looked at me and then smiled so bashfully that I felt like a pervert flashing myself to a child. And of course Little Sam reacted as expected, slowing rising as Jamie stared at my shaven pubes area. My hairless testicles, hanging at a level well below what Jamie could ever perceive, drew ‘her’ full attention, and whereas on prior meetings ‘she’ appeared envious, as Liz had suggested, tonight ‘she’ seemed frightened.
The blond hair was perfect as always. It was the make up that was different. Someone had taken great time to pretty the hermaphrodite. Mascara, eye shadow, lip gloss, plucked eyebrows, false eye lashes. Traces of rouge highlighted his cheeks.
Jamie’s blouse was silk, the devilish red of weeks prior was discarded for a charming and innocent white. Small bulges suggested that his tiny breasts with the puffy nipples had been stuffed into some type of training bra, plumping the limited mounds of flesh to emulate a pubescent girl.
Then my eyes scanned what was the most significant difference. Jamie wore a skirt. No pretense about gender obscurity this time. The garment was very pretty, and a blue which matched his eyes and nail polish...and short. And I must emphasize short, the hem not even reaching halfway down the wondrously smooth and shapely thighs.
Jamie finally curtsied, and I followed his downward gaze.
Brief but high heeled footwear revealed a fine pedicure and matching blue toe nails. Thin straps of leather held the platforms in place by alluringly encircling and crisscrossing his calves to just below the knee. Somehow, though precariously perched on four inch heels, Jamie was able to move about. The awkward angle of his feet strained the leg muscles and enticingly presented his smooth calves in a way that defied his otherwise adolescent charm. Jamie was a study in contrast: from the waist up... schoolgirl; from the waist down... a schoolgirl doing her best to appear like an expensive hooker.