The Party Boy

his energy for a lasting erection.

He cleans house. I make him nap. At 5:00 p.m. I run water for his bath. At great cost, both plumbing and plumbers expensive in Manhattan, as with everything, I had an over sized tub installed.

I bathe Jack just as I have over the many years, posed on all fours as in cleansing a puppy, my soothing touch that of mother to child.

He’s docile, of course, absorbing my tenderness, hands smoothing every where, expressing ownership, exercising my thorough control.

I particularly enjoy handling those ripe plums, hanging so low after my many scrotal infusions during his developing years. Soft, thin, hairless flesh... so vulnerable to a woman’s touch. Jack lurches when I gently pinch his right testicle then left.

“You’re full of juice this evening, Jack, a week of built up sperm. I can feel it. Maybe the girls at the party will have me masturbate you. They’re lesbians but they may find it entertaining to see a woman with ultimate control over the male sex organs.”

“I’d like that, Miss Kelly. Full ejaculation?”

“Maybe.”

I entice, yet my intuition tells me it will not happen.

Finished washing, I coat his nakedness from neck to thighs with lotion then run a straight razor over every inch of skin. When completed Jack knows to turn and sit, like a good boy, and I lather his chest and arms. Hair stubble, quite limited as I shave him regularly, disappears, maintaining his smooth girlish look. Legs are next, wordlessly lifting the right from the water. I am quick, gliding the frighteningly sharp steel edge with aplomb. Left leg follows. In completing the final appendage I next shave his scrotum, handling with gleeful authority.

“Are you going to get nice and hard for me?”

Jack smiles, a little boy smile, as I pull from my neck the necklace with the most meaningful trinket of his male life... the cock cage key.

Though I dislike freeing his penis, in my mind unearned mercy, in preparation for his exhibition I must assure the steel is cleaned, and any stubble beneath is likewise shaved. The lock for his Prince’s Wand clicks open as does the lock for the base ring. I slide off the cock cage, marveling at well designed tightness. The slightest degree of tumescence sends a message of feminine control.

Next I gingerly slip out the Prince’s Wand, the rounded tip bringing discomfort as I slide ever so slowly down the super sensitive urethra. Jack grunts with the internal prostate manipulation, then cries out as the evil ball painfully stretches the internal pink skin.

He’s freed.

Sure enough, in handling his penis, clinically as always with his baths, he slowly stiffens. I feel that brisance, my governance so exciting, but otherwise ignore his hard on. And Jack knows to obediently ignore as well, maintaining his hands on his head.

“Enema time,” I announce, rising to gather the needed paraphernalia. “All fours.”

For party preparation... CFNM party... he is also internally cleansed. I don’t want to offer prostate massage to a messy rectum... nor have any odorous accidents.

Sometime I’ll post another Craig’s Listing. There may be ladies who would enjoy watching a subordinated male endure one of my high and hot colonics. Such a show would further debase Jack, assuaging his deviant psychological needs.

“Buttocks high, arch your back for me.”

I fill the enema bag, using soap to lubricate the rectum. I then impale.

“Please not too much, Miss Kelly.”

“I’ll decide,” I remind Jack, kneeling to place my hand on his lower tummy, gauging the slow but steady flow.

I drain the water, readying the tub for the messiness of Jack’s bowels. So water flows in and water flows out. Though the warmth brings lassitude, the building pressure on the prostate fosters more and more stiffness. Yes, Jack displays his full ten inches, the penis tip, so much in need of an attentive touch, turning a bulbous purple.

Becoming languorous with the penetrating heat, Jack slumps, head lowering to the bottom of the empty tub.

“Why do you do this to me, Miss Kelly?”

“Because I can... and you need it. You have special needs, Jack. You need the exacting care of a woman. And you enjoy showing yourself in your hairless nakedness. Plus I need the money... if you mean the weekly parties... so I can care for you. You don’t earn much in cleaning toilets.”

“I’m full,” Jack groans.

“Yes, and will get fuller,” I smile with my ownership.

Chapter Twenty-Eight