The Party Boy

He begins to protest the odorous task. I reach back and further press his face into my crevice.

“Shush.”

In absorbing the first of many tender licks, Jack’s concern over economics brings thoughts. He’s not... we’re not... as impoverished as he believes, his trust fund well invested and stable. I know... I am the trustee.

Chapter Twenty-Two

It was decided that Jack attend college locally, New York University. So for the most part, in approaching his majority, my tutelage remained about the same, somewhat amending the times of Jack’s naked workouts, baths and milkings to accommodate his class schedule.

Times were good, until tragedy visited. Jack’s father, a busy constantly traveling multi millionaire businessman, died. Though never close to his mostly absent father, news of his massive heart attack, while in the desolate mountains of Central America purchasing lumber, brought sadness... and revelations.

It seems the harridan woman of the house was a second wife, not Jack’s biological mother. Thus her standoffishness with regard to Jack and his care came to be better explained.

Apparently unknown to Jack’s father was the disdain his second wife had for her stepson. The will left everything to the harridan, nothing for Jack, as apparently Jack’s father assumed his second wife would continue his care. Compounding Jack’s grief was the announcement, shortly after the funeral... a tellingly short interval... that the mansion would be sold... that Jack’s step mother was moving to a newly acquired estate in Palm Beach... and that in approaching his majority Jack was not welcomed.

His Stepmom had no legal or financial obligations to Jack... nor was she going to offer any generosity.

It was I who took charge of the inequitable situation.

An attorney en

gaged by me advised Jack that, in nearing age twenty one, he had little recourse. He could however try tying up final probate by contesting the will. But the battle would be uphill. The second marriage was of some eighteen years, Jack’s biological mother passing on when he was a toddler.

Well, as the lawyer suspected, the harridan settled, apparently not wishing to delay dispersing estate funds and spend on legal fees... though there was also eagerness to join some gigolo in Florida. I insisted that a spendthrift trust be established, the settlement modest, income to be dribbled out based on my authority as sole trustee. Since the attorney was my hire, such was established without objection.

Thus my financial power over Jack.

Chapter Twenty-Three

A great night’s sleep, though passing out from multiple orgasms better describes my state of unconsciousness.

I arise, a weary Jack, tongue worn, sleeps. I don a robe, use the bathroom, peel off Jack’s hood, then head for the kitchen. I will make coffee. Jack will prepare breakfast when he finally musters the energy to arise.

I take a sip of java. Then hearing him stir, step to the bedroom. Jack will have toilet needs and I must assist. As stated, Jack will always have my assistance and supervision in the toilet... a regimen begun years ago from day one as his governess.

Bladder full, Jack wordlessly steps to the bathroom. I follow. When he moves to the toilet, hands go to his head and I reach down and grasp his cock cage, aligning the opening of the Prince’s Wand.

It’s both intimate and humbling, ceding dominion over a basic function of the male to a woman. But necessary, for I practice my control. Its’s an aspect of our weekend show to have Jack open and close his bladder at my command. It requires discipline and a will to be governed by a woman. Jack has developed both and midway through his business I command him to halt.

Jack complies, never knowing for how long I will demand he hold his flow. Feminine caprice is important... submitting to it at all times paramount.

“Ok, finish for me.”

He does and with a tissue I dab the tip of the Prince’s Wand for neatness.

“Bacon and eggs for me. Dry toast for you. I want you well worked this morning.”

Our second bedroom is stuffed with as much equipment as we could move from the mansion years ago. Thus Jack’s impressive conditioning and physique remains. Missing is young Maria bringing welcomed embarrassment in toweling Jack down post work out.

Jack prances to the kitchen. In the bedroom I lay out clothing for his afternoon appointments. There were many elements to be considered in fabricating his special garb.

First such had to draw attention... in an undesired manner... nurturing Jack’s penchant. Second such had to be practical, nothing so extreme that he could not walk or otherwise move about. Third such had to place Jack in compliance with the law. Much as I’d like him to be exposed, arrests would prove to be counter productive. And fourth, such had to be easily removed. Jack’s customer’s want him to serve in the nude. Covering can annoy, along with the precious moments wasted in taking such off.

So, starting with the footwear... high heels would be ideal but not practical for walking New York’s streets. I settled for a selection of sandals, leaving the top of his feet exposed and having a degree of height in the heel... just enough to make walking challenging yet doable.

He’ll wear silk panties; of course... always wear silk panties. But more covering for the laws concerning exposure. For that I had made a set of flimsy one piece dresses, to be facilely slipped over his head, open at the shoulders but for thin straps for support, covering his chest at the front, a plunging neck line at the back, the hem there just above the crease of his buttocks, and the bottom hem quite high, ending above mid thigh, flashing his panties beneath when walking or better with gusts of wind on inclement days.

A male in what most would consider female attire. A muscular male, otherwise no hint of femininity. Ah, the gender obfuscation... delicious.