The Party Boy
In a jiffy I have the constricting contraption around his waist. At the front dangles the so termed cod piece, that which will slip between his thighs, be pulled up between his hairless buttocks and locked in place at the back, but first I must assure the impossibility of stiffening. If I am going to teach Jack to properly respect the female anatomy, he will do so without the privilege of erection. I thus assure the penis, quite flaccid after his milking, is pressed downward. I smile with its growing length. Nearing adulthood I draw back the impressive length, the tip back almost greeting his rectum. There I hold it in place as my free hand completes the restraint, pulling under and up. Then I can release his penis, now entrapped, and lock the contraption in place.
“Ow, it’s too tight,” Jack’s pleading words bringing the satisfaction that his penis will not stir without incurring discomfort.
“Good. Come, you’ll sleep in my room tonight.”
And so my ‘cure’ for bed wetting began, Jack’s mother having no objection to having her son sleep with his caring, nurturing governess.
Chapter Seventeen
Enough. We’ve earned our fee and the girl talk is wearing. I bid all a good night, reach into my bag and toss Jack his frilly pink panties. The budding dominatrix smiles.
“He does not object?”
“That’s the only undergarment he’s allowed... since he was a boy.”
Jack steps from his perch, grateful the show is over. In putting on his panties I next toss him his blanket. Bringing him to these parties in partial dishabille always makes an impression... and puts him into his subordinate frame of mind.
When I walk him about outdoors, to and from the car, with only a blanket and panties for cover, we are within the law but otherwise Jack’s exposure is fulfilling for me and nicely humbling for him.
“How do you find a boy... like Jack?” the girl who is so inquisitive asks.
“You have a boyfriend?”
“Yes.”
“Then you have probably already found a boy like Jack. You just don’t know it. You’re an assertive girl. Only a boy with Jack’s propensities would find attraction.”
With that, leaving the girl in thought, I take Jack by the hand... not as would a lover... but as would a mother leading a child.
Calling out another good night, we depart into the summer night air, Jack desperately clinging to his only covering like a frightened child.
It’s suburban Greenwich, the houses large and
sparse. Still Jack is concerned about being seen, despite his many hours of naked exhibition. It’s delicious.
As always, his shy relatively silent interaction with me ends in departing the performance.
“Wouldn’t it be better to allow me covering? Normal covering?” he asked finally finding his voice.
“It makes a proper impression, bringing you to the parties half naked and easily stripped. Sets the atmosphere, wouldn’t you agree?”
Jack reluctantly nods.
“You performed well Jack, $700 earned for a few hours work. That’s more than your week’s earnings cleaning toilets.”
“I could find a better job.”
“Yes you could... but you won’t. I won’t allow it. Besides cleaning toilets suits your psyche... it’s demeaning... and that’s good for you. Those years of college coming to waste. Kind of sums things up for you, doesn’t it?”
I psychologically disparage, never letting Jack enter a mental comfort zone.
We reach the car. I drive, not permitting Jack to have a license.
“We’re in New Jersey next weekend. The Craig’s List thing works well. Lots of promiscuous women want no strings access to a naked male,” I inform, starting the engine.
I grab Jack’s blanket, pulling it from him and tossing it to the back seat. I then playfully tweak a nipple and put the car in gear. We have an hour’s drive to New York. Jack is initially silent, slumping in his seat, veiling from other drivers that he rides mostly naked... no shirt, no pants, no shoes, just frilly pink panties.
I decide to have fun, Jack always needs to be put in his place.