njoying yourself.” The beautiful brown eyes glance downward. Little Sam is stiff. Unbeknownst to me, the room’s suggestive furnishings have caused arousal. That and an abundance of testosterone.
“Most of the iron shackles are from the Palace. Metallurgy now being greatly advanced there are more suitable restraint devices currently utilized. Better locks and what not. But the black wrought iron has such wonderful connotations, does it not? A certain finality... a wickedness... a blunt craftsmanship that sends a message.”
She pauses to sip.
“The cabinets are filled with a variety of behavior modification devices. Some designed to obtain confessions. Others to alter and transform a male’s... well let’s use the term ‘outlook’. Well before I observed the surgical castrations, there were more rudimentary methods used.”
My flesh becomes anserine in listening to the calm and cool tone which Miss Elizabeth uses to describe such fateful and final events.
“Time for dinner. If you don’t remember Ms. Hobson’s phone number, it’s on the reminder pad in the kitchen. You’re going to want to visit with her here. Despite your past impressions, you will find her to be very understanding.”
So kind of Miss Elizabeth to facilitate matters.
Chapter Thirty Five
Night after night of listening and watching Miss Elizabeth being serviced by the lovely Jamie. I lay on the shag rug put Little Sam in a constant state of priapism. Jamie took to chaining me utilizing the testicle rings, which seemed to add a new aspect to his delight in controlling me, particularly when the selected chain was annoyingly short. .
And then last night I was summoned to the boudoir early and for the first time chained in Miss Elizabeth’s huge bathroom, really a spa. There I had to watch while a naked Jamie pampered an equally naked Miss Elizabeth under the bright lights where Miss Elizabeth normally primped and applied make up. There was no amount of stroking to satisfy Little Sam for the evening. Jamie gently massaged Miss Elizabeth’s fine form, smoothing his tiny soft and warm hands everywhere upon which an intact male fantasizes. And as Miss Elizabeth lay with eyes closed, the minx took the time to assure I did not miss the special attention paid to all areas pink... reveling in the relative freedom permitted the altered male. His fingers frolicked where even husbands do not dare explore.
Watching the two contrastingly beautiful forms bathe together in a Jacuzzi tub designed for four or more put my hormones in an uproar, particularly when Miss Elizabeth graciously freed Jamie’s penis and the two giggled like school girls as both worked to coax the neutered organ to stand, Jamie tugging on the Prince’s Wand while Miss Elizabeth wormed a soapy finger into his anus.
And it did partially stiffen, with Miss Elizabeth laughing so haughtily, knowing that any attempt at complete erection was made futile many years before by her slow and judicious twists of thin constraining wires.
“Can you spurt for me Jamie? Why not show Elizabeth what a virile little man you are? Or perhaps you’d prefer a soapy bubble bath followed by some fragrant body powder and the feel of a nice set of silk panties.”
Miss Elizabeth laughed with her debasing observations, knowing full well that the blonde hermaphrodite would indeed enjoy parading about in scanty silk panties. And Jamie just smiled, seeming to feel on his depilated flesh the fine smoothness of frilly undergarments as such gently caressed skin made exquisitely receptive to touch by the deluge of feminine hormones.
Afterwards, in the bedroom, their love making was particularly heated with Miss Elizabeth’s husky cries of passion coming sporadically over many hours and throughout the night.
In lying and listening on my rug, I don’t think Little Sam ever returned to flaccidity. And once again, in a late night trip to the bathroom, Miss Elizabeth offered a morsel of what Jamie feasted upon, standing before me in her nakedness and slowly coating my nose and lips with the evidence of her arousal. She laughed as I thrust with my pierced and stretched tongue in hungrily seeking more.
The next morning I asked permission to use the phone to call Ms. Hobson. As I dialed, my hand shook in thinking of what I was about to say to the woman who had ended my career... had so gleefully gazed at my hooded and restrained nakedness... had found such amusement in exploring and examining my offered genitals... had delightfully observed the alteration of my penis.
“Hello, Sam,” the authoritative voice began, her secretary having screened my call. “How’s the recuperation? Completely healed?”
Her annoying questions were followed by the familiar throaty laugh. I am sure office protocol restrained more direct and gruff references, such as... how much of your penis did she leave, or have you completely wanked away the stub yet?
I ignored her taunts.
“Thank you for asking, Ms. Hobson. Both Nurse Stenson and Miss Elizabeth have suggested that you can assist me. And you also stated you could help.”
“Yes, Sam. My late husband had a problem after a comparable modification. I would like to think my efforts to help as being more than palliative. He was not as fortunate as you in having Elizabeth as guardian. For him I decided on a complete removal,” her voice trailing off in a snort.
Obviously coded words for a complete penectomy, my hand tightened on the receiver in listening to the aloof discussion of an event which a male would only describe as a travesty.
As always, Ms. Hobson cut to the chase and abruptly curtailed the conversation.
“I will stop in tonight, Sam. Be in your special room at 7:00 p.m. Door closed. I suggest that you not eat. Your stomach best remains empty for these occasions.”
Chapter Thirty Six
I continue to humbly sit, wondering the time. As directed, I begged to be excused from assisting Jamie in serving dinner and quietly retreated to my special room. When the door closed behind me, there was no changing my mind, no going back. It clicked and locked.
I did not have the temerity to explore. Miss Elizabeth told me what was in the cabinets. In finding the fortitude to call Ms. Hobson, I had apparently expended what little courage I could summon. Miss Elizabeth had described the contents as ‘behavior modification devices’. In viewing the stark horror of the implements hanging on the wall, so evil yet displayed with such presumption, my timidity precluded me from viewing what was chosen to be furtively tucked away.
I look up to see a camera high on the wall facing the platform. Unlike the examination room, it is in plain sight, no subterfuge about viewing and recording the events in this room.
Finally Ms. Hobson enters. In coming directly from the office, she wears the drab and frumpy business attire now known to me as a disguise. Her hair is pulled straight back in an unattractive bun, complementing her ensemble. No one accompanies her. It is apparent she has a card key similar to that carried by Jamie and Miss Elizabeth.