The Chris Bellows' Collection

by Chris Bellows

  Overall, life was good.

  Then I began to work for a new partner, a taskmaster and a tyrant. And the drudgery, or the perceived drudgery resumed... night after night searching for the uncrossed ‘t’s’ and the missing dots over untold ‘i’s’.

  The tedium affected my employment thinking and career perspectives even more than before marriage, since during much of the late night hours I envisioned being under Ashley’s fine body instead of toiling over documents. As the frustration grew, snippets of our honeymoon antics flashed into memory... the abundant sex, romping naked about the Duval island, being shaved and massaged by Lotta, the deviant but thrilling hand job on the beach.

  So added to the mental strain, which I had encountered before, was this sexual frustration. For many times when I began to arrive home late, Ashley was asleep and there was no point in waking her for sex. The urge or desire does not develop in women that way.

  It went on for a few months. A first anniversary dinner had to be cancelled and rescheduled to a Sunday afternoon, depriving the occasion of all romantic elements. And I even had to implore for those few hours, the latest project involving a huge spinoff and my partner boss expecting me to work the entire weekend.

  So one night, having been upbraided by the boss on some trivial matter, I skulked home, wondering among other things why, with the billions at Ashley’s disposal, we remained living in my modest apartment. I normally didn’t waken my bride but on that night I did.

  “Our anniversary was months ago and we had brunch to celebrate. What do you say we take some time and return to the island, Ashley? Tell the world to get lost.”

  My slumbering bride rolled to face me and smiled.

  “Did you know that Aunt Meredith owned a jet? It was listed as stock in a separate corporation, I guess for liability purposes, and the lawyers just this week got around to learning what ‘Aero Duval, LLC’ is all about. Guess we should make sure the thing still flies.”

  I exhaled with relief in learning Ashley was agreeable. She giggled like an innocent young girl and I felt somewhat disingenuous, reflecting on my scheming and the setup job with the prenuptial agreement.

  Yes, since the time of my initial furtive investigation into Ashley’s financial affairs and resources, I had not paid much attention to what Samuel L. Brackett in the estate planning area was doing with her aunt’s estate. Upon return from the honeymoon and the assignment of a new boss, my office was moved two floors away. But Ashley’s disclosure did not surprise me. After all, how else would a woman of Aunt Meredith’s means travel to her private island?

  So the next day I had the pleasure of giving the tyrant boss short notice. And he of course immediately suggested I would be blacklisted from the profession. And I came very close to using the vernacular term that so succinctly described my new financial profile... ‘fuck you money’... in reiterating my resignation. And he calmed after being reminded that the estate of Meredith Duval was a sizable client of his partner, Samuel L. Brackett.

  Ashley made some phone calls and the day after my resignation a quick ride to Teterboro found the limousine pulling up to a hanger marked ‘Aero Duval’. Parked on the tarmac outside the open hanger doors was a polished white Citation X, its engines spinning.

  The copilot greeted us and inquired as to luggage.

  “My bags are in the trunk. He has none,” Ashley was very specific in pointing out.

  The handsome young male, somewhat effeminate in his manner, didn’t blink with Ashley’s emphasized remark. He helped the driver with her bags and led us to the plane.

  “The flight plan is filed and approved. With quartering tail winds the flight time to the Lesser Antilles will be less than three hours.”

  I believe we were taxiing before I could properly adjust the seat belt. When finished I glanced forward into the cockpit and I spotted an abundance of long flowing blonde hair in the left seat. The captain was female.

  “Aunt Meredith had her ways,” Ashley leaned to say in spotting my reaction to a woman piloting a $15,000,000 jet. “Sometimes she had the crew stay on the island and she wanted to ensure proper collegiality.”

  Yes, of course. Under her rules, males must go naked and I assumed there was a paucity of qualified pilots desiring to engage in such antics. Wives would tend to question the missing tan line upon return home, I reasoned.

  We received clearance for an immediate climb out of New York airspace to a heading directly to the island. The pilot aggressively poured on the power and the amazingly powerful jet climbed like a fighter. I detected Duval influence in obtaining such a flight plan as such a route not only requires clearance through Newark Airport’s space but also that of Maguire Air Force base in southern Jersey.

  When the pilot attained a suitable rate of ascent she turned to look back at Ashley and smiled. She was in her mid forties and, though quite authoritative in her manner, rather good looking. Her glance back was apparently a signal.

  “Time to put your mind into island space,” Miss Ashley firmly suggested.

  “This crew is more accustomed to the island rule than that charter crew returning us from the honeymoon.”

  I joined Ashley in laughing over the memory. Immediately upon landing at Teterboro, a frantic copilot rushed from the cabin to assure that I had dressed. After all, we had to go through customs and the rather staid crew was concerned over decorum.

  So though this unfamiliar woman was in the cockpit, I stripped, setting the ambiance for the return to our honeymoon.

  “Come now Corky, Mary hasn’t seen that tongue of yours work.”

  I am drawn from my reverie as Miss Ashley has reached the point in the story of my transition where Dr. Helga altered my tongue.

  “Start with Harold. Let’s see how well that Kali’s Teeth Bracelet works when his scrotum gets licked. Be a good boy now, Corky. Big long wet laps.”

  The women titter as Miss Pam guides my leash to were a naked and sheepish Harold stands.

  Chapter Thirteen - Corky

  Arousing the male gender has unfortunately become rote for me. So many genitals, so much forced tongue and lip work. But working this Harold character could be interesting. No eruption of sperm is feasible, and that spiked ring around his locked up penis will soon have him in agony should he not be able to control his erection.

  “Hold the leash close to the collar to control his head, Pam. Just as with Harold’s chastity device it’s spiked and Corky will follow your directions.”

  Yes, I will and Pam amuses herself by assuring that Harold’s entire scrotal sac, seemingly enlarged with a reservoir of sperm, receives a warm, wet and soothing application of tongue.

  As during most times when enduring deep humiliation, I tend to daydream, and my thoughts return to that escape from toil and drudgery back to tropical paradise.

  The amazing Citation jet leveled off at 39,000 feet just as I slid out of my jockey shorts, my last piece of clothing. Miss Ashley picked up the pile and stowed the garments somewhere in the back of the cabin. My nakedness mentally returned me to the lusty episodes of our honeymoon and so it seemed with Ashley also. For as we sat side by side and talked, her hand, known to provide exquisite hand jobs on the island with rarely a lascivious touch in New York, began to toy. And with the many months of stress, long hours and unintended sexual denial, my naughty wife quickly brought me to full stand.

  “I’ll have you shaved. It’ll be Lotta’s welcome,” Miss Ashley giggled like a newlywed.

  And with that she turned away and picked up a magazine, sending a not so subtle message that as we approached the island a new paradigm also approached.

  So there I sat naked and with a hard on while Miss Ashley read. I was chagrined but also found reading material, only to be interrupted in absorbing an article on snorkeling whenever Miss Ashley became displeased with my flaccidity. That’s when her hand returned to rekindle firmness.

  “Can you get me some juice Charles?” she inquired well into the flight after applying what
she termed some quick maintenance strokes for renewed stiffness.

  I arose slowly, cautiously moving to the gallery to ensure the crew did not notice my huge erection. And sure enough was able to surreptitiously return with juice. Ashley rewarded by diddling the sensitive underside of my penis tip.

  “I’m sure the crew would enjoy something,” she wickedly suggested, laughing as I froze in trepidation.

  “Oh don’t be shy, Charles. They worked for Aunt Meredith for many years.”

  So fully erect, I served the crew. The blonde pilot donning a knowing smile in being offered refreshments by a naked and priapic male, and the effeminate copilot looking at me as if he’d like to take me home.

  We landed well within the scheduled three hours and taxied to a waiting Lotta standing with husband Big Sam and daughter Miranda, holding a cloth bag. Ashley followed the copilot from the plane and I stepped out thereafter. There ensued greetings, words of welcome, hugs with me standing naked before this family of islanders. Miranda’s presence was a new twist, having only seen her and other native children from afar during our honeymoon. I was to learn that she was now deemed of age and, under the regime established by the late Aunt Meredith, required to assist with chores in return for a forthcoming free college education.

  “Lotta, Charles is very eager for one of your treatments and I’m going right to the beach,” Miss Ashley announced after the obligatory salutations ebbed.

  I blushed when all eyes turned to me, still somewhat erect from Miss Ashley’s earnest penile manipulations on final approach.

  “Yes, ma’am. And Miranda brought what you requested.”

  The pretty girl stepped forward and opened the cloth bag. Miss Ashley looked, reached in and smiled.

  “Think you know what these are about Charles,” Miss Ashley laughingly implied as she pulled one of the fur lined cuffs from the bag. “You may develop an unusual tan, but I think we can work to eliminate most lines.”

  Lotta nodded and Miranda pranced forward, stooped and began encircling my ankles with the comfortable restraints. The girl was quick and for the first time in donning the cuffs I heard a click. After firmly pulling taut the securing Velcro strips, small padlocks made removal impossible for all except the keyholder. I found myself offering my wrists and heard two more clicks. A smiling Miss Ashley waved a key.

  “New rules, Charles.”

  Big Sam moved to retrieve the baggage. Miss Ashley reached down to restore my fading erection. Lotta and Miranda headed for the plantation house. Satisfied with my firmness, Miss Ashley patted my buttocks and stepped near to hug me. Though somewhat mentally overwhelmed, I returned the hug as Ashley smoothed her hands down my arms. I pressed my erection against her body. Having been teased since leaving Teterboro Airport, her warmth felt good. But the tender moments proved to be a diversion as I felt Miss Ashley’s hands push back my arms then fumble about behind me. There came another click and I was shocked to find my wrist cuffs secured together behind my back.

  “We may never need to leave,” Ashley observed in planting a provocative thought.

  We followed Lotta and Miranda to the plantation house and I looked back to see a naked copilot helping big Sam unload the plane. The blonde pilot must have had him strip upon landing for she stood arms akimbo in a most authoritative pose, apparently barking orders. Something about his pubes area glinted in the sunshine. I would later learn that he was locked into a chastity device with the blonde pilot in control of the key.

  It seems there was a second tradition on Meredith Duval’s island paradise, suspended during the two weeks of our honeymoon.

  Caucasian males not only went naked, but also had their libidos kept under feminine control.

  Yes, there was a new paradigm, unexpected and certainly not offering the total relaxation I envisioned in quitting my job, essentially abandoning the legal profession and jetting some 1800 miles. Yet there were all those millions upon millions that would eventually come my way in the form of the time capsule termed a prenuptial agreement. So I assuaged my concerns as Miss Ashley and I arrived at the house and climbed the stairs to the sizable master bedroom.

  Lotta and Miranda awaited and strapped me to the bed as Miss Ashley changed into her bathing suit.

  “Shave him nice and smooth now, Lotta. I’ll be back for cocktails in a couple of hours.”

  Chapter Fourteen - Corky

  Harold begins to wrench in pain bringing laughter to the group. My well trained tongue overwhelms what mental control he has learned in keeping his penis flaccid within the Lori’s Tube and Kali’s Teeth Bracelet. Thus he stiffens and pays the price.

  “Enough Corky. But my goodness what a long tongue you have,” Miss Pam coos in her condescending voice.

  Miss Pam draws back my leash affording a respite. Small talk ensues and my mind returns to the second trip to the Duval island where I lie cuffed and helpless in the plantation house.

  Miss Ashley left to sun herself while mother and daughter worked my nakedness. The complete body shave involved temporarily freeing each limb in order to smooth the straight edged razor over every inch of arms and legs. I was turned over and the hair of the back and buttocks was whisked away with Miranda permitted to practice on my posterior, deemed to be an area where little damage could be inflicted by a neophyte. With four hands working my naked flesh, my tumescence continued and being worked by the brown skinned ingénue added erotic elements not before experienced. When returned to lying on my back, my penis tip was purple and most bulbous.

  “That’s why we keep them cuffed, Miranda. Otherwise he’d be doing nasty things right in front of us.”

  Next came the shaving of my scrotum while I flushed in embarrassment. Miranda watched closely and became even more observant as Lotta playfully gave my erection a teasing stroke and laughed as I frustratingly pulled against my tight straps.

  “Miss Ashley she be back and maybe she be kind to you,” Lotta taunted with a giggling Miranda fascinated with her mother’s control and the lack thereof for me.

  “Now I show you how to give a man a treat, Miranda.”

  Yes, time for my testicle massage and prostate manipulation. Physically exquisite, mentally tormenting, Miranda’s watchful presence added to the peculiar sensation as Lotta patiently sat on my left side and two lubricated fingers slipped between my spread thighs to enter my rectum.

  “Lotion your hands, Miranda. Work his nipples,” Lotta suggested as her right hand began my testicular massage.

  “Never, never touch the penis for more than seconds. Touching there is for Miss Ashley,” Lotta explained the rules of my tantalization.

  Yes, the young Miranda was receiving a Duval island education, learning as so many other islanders have, that the Caucasian male is for entertainment... for diversion. More toy than human.

  Well, the two women had their way with Miranda receiving a lesson on the male anatomy. And then perhaps worse than the tantalizing massage, they left me to lie in bondage. There was no way to touch my raging hard on.

  “Miss Ashley, she be back in a few hours.”

  Well I eventually went flaccid. And thoughts of my valuable time capsule, the one I buried with my wife’s signature, the one that would ensure a lifetime of comfort without all these antics, assuaged my aggravation.

  After an hour, Miranda returned, skipping into the room like a little girl. She carried a beaker and climbed onto the bed between my spread feet.

  “Mother says you need to go,” she succinctly announced.

  And I did have to go. But here? Before her?

  Pretty brown hands propped my flaccid penis over the rim of the beaker. I was to learn to go for Miranda... or wet the bed, a messy and uncomfortable consequence.

  So I closed my eyes and listened to the girl giggle as I struggled to develop a flow.

  After many hours of boredom, enough to wish I was back in New York proofreading lengthy legal documents, Miss Ashley returned and I was heartened to see her remove her bathing suit. But t
hen she augmented my frustration by parading about in the bedroom completely nude while I remained firmly secured to the bed. Her body was exquisite as always, almost desirable enough to take my mind off the Duval millions, and alluring enough such that I slowly stiffened.

  “My goodness, Charles. It seems the island affects you as it does me,” Miss Ashley mockingly observed, as my penis came to stand straight upwards. “My reaction stems from memories of the last few times Aunt Meredith invited me here. She deemed me ‘of age’, but I was still young and impressionable. And in finding why a woman of her means and resources would spend so much time in relative seclusion, I guess certain penchants developed.”

  She moved to sit on the bed next to me and ever so teasingly brushed the tip of her right index finger against the sensitive underside of my frenulum where the quick hand of a pediatrician long ago removed my foreskin.

  “In Aunt Meredith’s days the Caucasian males coming here weren’t so nicely cut, I least not upon arrival,” she giggled. “Did you know Aunt Meredith kept horses? Yes, most were gone by the time of her death. And the executor sold the last two in settling the estate. But Aunt Meredith very much enjoyed riding... and of course the hunting.”

  Ashley paused to fully climb onto the bed.

  “You’re so nice and smooth Charles, I cannot resist. And Lotta uses such wonderfully scented oils.”

  Ashley sat on my chest facing my feet, her pretty posterior inches from my face. I lifted my head and craned my neck, just able to kiss her right cheek. She giggled.

  “Wealth can be so corrupting, Charles. To think about all the good Aunt Meredith could have done in the world, yet she chose to spend most of her time here on the island. Sometimes she entertained guests but it was the summer hunts that most enthused, providing her raison d’etre, as she phrased it. And since I was in college, summers free, she invited me to observe.