Miss Elizabeth's Captive

by Chris Bellows

  My television lit up with a close up of a very familiar figure. Me. Kneeling, naked, amazingly erect and trussed like a turkey. I immediately recognized the venue. It was Jamie’s ‘examination’ room where Friday evening’s escapade had ended.

  Brightly lit, floor tiled in white with matching walls, stainless steel table, metal stools and cabinets, the windowless room was oddly large for the bathroom of a New York apartment. I am sure it was converted from one of the original bedrooms of which Liz had a half dozen.

  I never noticed the camera, obviously hidden behind the huge mirror covering the wall opposite me. And the tape must have been edited from a very long recording of the evening’s events since the figure facing me on the screen had a shaven pubic region and a long rubber tube hanging from between his inner thighs. The shaving came before the inflatable anal plug, tube attached, was inserted into my rectum.

  The look on my face was both comical and pitiable. I had spent the past four days trying to forget the strange happenings and here I was graphically being reminded... and in my office! There was no sound and I leaned to turn up the volume. Within a second the voice of Liz boomed and I had to quickly turn the sound down.

  “Hello, Sam. Just our way of cajoling you to make the Saturday evening appointment. I have another tape, somewhat longer, in an envelope addressed to your building... 35th floor. Perhaps you can pick it up and deliver it yourself. If not, I can mail it on Monday.

  “And Sam, when you arrive, you’ll find there’s a small closet in the foyer to your right as you exit the elevator. Your clothing is best left there on Saturday. You won’t be needing any.”

  The short tape went blank and I quickly hit the reject button and threw it into my brief case.

  The 35th floor housed the executive offices of MacDonald, Bear & Co., prestigious Wall Street investment banking firm and my esteemed employer. Liz’s ominous words left me in even greater shock than viewing my shaved, plugged and tumescent nakedness, suggesting that a similar tape, but probably even more sordid, would be, in my absence on Saturday, delivered to those controlling my livelihood.

  It was blackmail, nothing more, nothing less, and so smoothly executed.

  I put my feet up on the desk trying to relax and think. The motion caused my underwear to rustle against my shaved pubes and the feeling caused Friday evening’s finale to rush through my memory despite every attempt to vanquish the recollection.

  “Castrated males require special attention and medical care, Sam. Little Jamie spends much time here. I have a special nurse come in every week and having a well equipped and antiseptic room seemed most appropriate. Thus the apparent austerity.”

  Liz spoke as Jamie, hand firmly wrapped about my scrotum, directed me to kneel on a rubber pad. Liz handed him a metal bar and he clipped it to my ankle cuffs to force apart my feet and thus my knees and thighs. Liz sat on a stool to my side. At the time I had not a clue that her chosen place of observation deliberately was out of camera view.

  Jamie worked at a sink and moved to a cabinet and back. My eyes followed the girlish naked form about the room, still gawking at the peculiar beauty as I had done the previous Saturday. That which I could not see directly my eyes captured in the opposing mirror. On this visit there was little alcohol to blame for my infatuation. I had not finished either of the two margaritas offered. There was no wine. No, this time it was dead sober admiration of a androgynous body frozen in time by the cruel hand of a Dominant woman...by a slowly tightened strip of thin wire...followed by two quick incisions and some heartless snips, I kept thinking.

  Forever young... I reminded myself.

  Then the child., blond tresses, manicured nails, rouged nipples and scrotal sac, bejeweled and pierced erogenous zones, smooth and finely shaped buttocks, turned to me holding a basin in one hand and a frightening straight edge razor in the other.

  I pictured my own testicles falling prey and shouted ‘No!’ My voice cracked with the emotion and the protest was emitted so pusillanimously that Liz laughed.

  “Jamie just wants to see more of you, Sam. You’re just to be shaved.”

  And I was... with Little Sam standing for the entire procedure and Liz sitting and watching as the hermaphrodite had his way. I was forced to kneel in my bonds while shorn of pubic hair.

  Liz spoke affectionately of Jamie as attentive little hands dutifully worked my flesh.

  “When our flight arrived in New York, we stayed in a hotel and shopped for a few days before boarding a train to Providence. Jamie relished being permitted clothing, to a certain extent. As his hormone level slowly adjusted, his preferences gravitated to fine silks and satins, very brief under garments, and jewelry. He earned every diamond, Sam, through a very lucrative system of rewards for services rendered. Jamie is not just known for his fellatio, as I am sure you’ve gathered. The first item acquired was that delicious knob piercing his tongue. I tried many different shapes and sizes before finding one that titillated to my liking.

  “And where better to have a castrate properly pierced and cared for than Greenwich Village. Off beat, discreet, every proclivity respected and catered, professionals who rarely question relationships. Jamie requires estrogen... or rather I insist that he have it. Notice the perky nipples, the soft sinewy muscles, the atrophying penis. If not for the specially crafted Prince’s Wand it would slowly disappear. That wouldn’t do of course, since I want him constantly reminded of his alteration. But that’s what one can accomplish in New York. A city of great opportunity.”

  Liz laughed with her observation as Jamie lifted my scrotum, angled the razor perfectly, and drew the blade for one final pass. My privates had been denuded and a warm and wet towel felt strangely good in enhancing the feeling of nudity there.

  It was then that the inflatable anal plug appeared from a cabinet with the long tube attached. It ended with a puffolator bulb. I had seen one before on a device for gauging blood pressure. Jamie donned latex gloves and moved to my rear. Tiny fingers lubricated my rectum. The deflated plug felt huge and I cried out as he slipped it past my tight unused rear portal. Liz chuckled.

  “You’ll be opened there over time. I enjoy toying with the male gland...so nicely tucked away...but so readily accessed by the knowing.”

  To my chagrin, Jamie handed the puffolator to Liz, sitting regally perched on a stool while I humbly knelt, newly shaved and plugged.

  I thought about her comments about control. I thought about my tastes in women: authority, panache. In her black leather, insouciantly watching a naked Jamie prance about under her tutelage, toying with my nakedness, there certainly was a control element.

  And then she gave the puffolator the most modest of squeezes, causing to inflate what Jamie had so fastidiously inserted into my sphincter. The sensation was something I had never before experienced... peculiar discomfort... yet indescribable pleasure.

  A distinctly male gland was being manipulated, by a beautiful woman, casually sitting some five feet away, controlling a visceral region of my body with nothing more than a gentle squeeze of her soft, warm hand. And as firm as Little Sam was, he comically jumped to attention, much to Liz’s amusement.

  She laughed. It was an irritating laugh. I squirmed, fighting my bonds in anger. Then Jamie joined in the merriment, fascinated by Little Sam’s reaction.

  “Jamie’s little penis used to do that. You’ve made him quite envious.”

  My day dream of Friday evening ended with an annoying phone call... pesky business which I concluded with dispatch.

  Then I anxiously called Liz, visualizing a second padded manila envelope addressed to the 35th floor and awaiting postage.

  Though having had some good years at MacDonald Bear, one’s impact is judged by recent results. Wall Street epitomizes the ‘what have you done for me lately?’ paradigm. And based on limited generation of recent fees, I could not afford to have scandal juxtaposed against the answer to such a question. Liz was threatening my livelihood. The Wall Street community is small an
d gossipy. A finding of moral turpitude was well defined as a termination for cause in my contract and such an event would end a career. And I had no doubt that Liz would carry out the threat. Her financial independence made her impervious to retaliation.

  “Good of you to call, Sam. I have a surprise here for you. You’ll arrive promptly at 7:00 p.m. And remain chaste in the meantime. I know when bad little boys play with themselves.”

  Aside from being sarcastic, Liz was firm and abrupt. She had all the cards. She knew it and she knew how to deal them.

  “Yes, Ma’am,” I meekly replied just before I heard the click.

  I needed a margarita, chilled and well salted. I left for the elevator wondering what the unabridged videotape revealed and skeptically trying to determine what could possibly be more of a surprise than what she had sent to my office.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Saturday evening, as I waited for a cab, Little Sam announced his eagerness in returning to Liz’s apartment. As instructed, I had remained chaste and the bed sheets tantalizing my hairless pubic region caused unfamiliar sensations resulting in nocturnal erections. And each time I awoke with ‘a diamond cutter’, as the male vernacular suggested, my thoughts returned to the examination room.

  So as I stood outside my apartment, the memory returned as Little Sam pressed the front of my slacks, like a leashed dog straining against his master’s collar.

  “He’ll react better with the neck collar supported, Jamie.”

  Liz spoke so calmly as my prostate was introduced to her controlling hand. She squeezed the bulb again, enlarging the inflatable anal plug, smiled, and then turned a little valve to let the plug slowly deflate. A very clever introduction to her control, I realized.

  Meanwhile her observation caused Jamie to skip on toes to the cabinet where two cords were retrieved. The manicured hands knotted one to a heavy ring on the right side of my neck collar, and the other to the left. Then I received a close up view of Jamie’s bejeweled pubes and forcibly firmed penis as he drew up a stool in front of me and stood on it.

  “We’ll want Mr. Sam to be nice and taut, Jamie. The collar is well designed.”

  I felt tension on my neck as Jamie secured the two cords to something above. Then the tension eased as he dismounted the stool and handed a different thicker cord to Liz. Jamie had evidently attached the cords to a pulley hanging from the ceiling. A curious addition to the ‘examination’ room I remembered thinking. But my eyes could not leave the hairless, formerly male region where the two golden balls dangled from a puff of pink flesh that resembled labia more than that which once sheltered the mighty reproductive organs of a man.

  My distraction was noted when Liz pulled on the single heavier cord and tension slowly returned. The pulley was obviously geared to allow Liz to effortlessly pull with one hand and raise my neck cords a very small amount. A second long but simple pull of her arm caused my head to rise. My posture was forced to change with my back perfectly straight in order to relieve the tension from my neck. I was slowly being hung and yet there was little discomfort. The collar was indeed well designed.

  I began to lift my knees, attempting to find the floor with my feet. Jamie noticed and approached, stopping my effort by stepping on the spreader bar.

  “Calm yourself, Sam. Relax. Enjoy the sensations. Your penis will find much delight, I can assure you.”

  With Liz’s admonishment came a squeeze of the puffolator and the return of the oddly pleasurable pressure on my prostate gland. With my spine effectively in traction, I found Liz to be correct. Little Sam felt as hard as I could ever recall.

  “Can you waggle for me Sam? Like a good boy.”

  Increased tension on the neck collar and clever pressing of her thumb on the squeeze bulb indicated that her request was in earnest. And yes, Little Sam did indeed waggle for her. Liz found that very entertaining.

  “Jamie’s so jealous,” she giggled.

  And then began the segment of Liz’s entertainment which, thinking about it being on videotape, made me cower, and picturing such a tape in an envelope addressed to the 35th floor, made me blanch in fear.

  Jamie’s apparent envy caused him to join me. With me kneeling, the little minx’s pierced nipples were at about the level of my forehead so as he stood he pressed his upturned, locked penis into my abdomen. I felt his golden balls brush my skin and heard Liz laughing.

  “He gets terribly affectionate in viewing the arousal of others. He likes to join in the pleasure but can’t. I took that away.

  “Here, Jamie.”

  The vixen obediently moved to Liz where she put aside the puffolator and retrieved the small key from a wrist bracelet. The tiny padlock holding Jamie’s small penis in the upright position was removed, freeing the emaciated appendage, after which he returned and began rubbing against me with renewed enthusiasm.

  I was being used to entertain Liz and also to stimulate Jamie...the neutered Jamie...the pretty Jamie with no testicles and the puffy nipples, and the beautiful girlish buttocks.

  And then a most frightening thing happened. My macho revulsion left me. I craned my head forward as best I could as Jamie continued his strange lap dance, pressing his tiny penis against me, grinding his buttocks and causing the cute globes to clench and flex in the mirror before me. Little Sam was permitted to occasionally rub against the smooth hairless legs as Jamie moved about. I extended my tongue and Jamie stopped so I could lick the puffy nipples which so resembled those of a pubescent girl. First was the right and then a smiling Jamie gracefully turned his torso to allow access to the left.

  “It’s the estrogen, Sam. It places the castrated male into a curious stage of development, resembling puberty. Thus his need for my control and direction.”

  As I licked and sucked in a frenzy, I felt Liz working the squeeze bulb and Little Sam reacted like a puppet on strings. Then Liz pulled and the neck collar tightened. I had to withdraw my tongue lest my own teeth sever a fleshy bud with the tension on my jaw.

  Liz put down the puffolator and tied off the heavy cord, leaving me half hanging. She arose, stepped to my rear and did something to secure the spreader bar, thus prohibiting me from drawing my knees up to a squatting position.

  “Come, Jamie.”

  A disappointed Jamie stepped away like a well trained puppy, which I guess he was. And then they left me there...anal plug forcefully pressing my prostate...tension on my neck producing the most pleasant traction on my spinal cord...ankles attached to spreader bar... wrists cuffed high and secured behind my back.

  They left the door open behind me. The mirror revealed some movement in the room across the hall. Within minutes the walls reverberated with moans of ecstasy and bursting words of encouragement. When Liz received pleasure her voice lowered and became soothingly commanding. And so as I helplessly hung, knees just barely touching the rubber mat below, I listened as Jamie arduously serviced Liz with his tongue, bringing climax...again...and again...and again.

  She was insatiable and very demanding, graphically instructing Jamie as to where his tongue and lips should caress, knead and suck.

  The cab finally arrived, interrupting the mental replay but permitting a thought to occur.

  There was obviously a camera behind that mirror. And obviously it was connected to a recorder. Could it also have been hooked to a television monitor in the bedroom where Liz was so fervently serviced by the orally truckling Jamie?

  As I directed the driver to Liz’s apartment the thought could not leave my mind...my exposed, shaven and enormously erect phallus served as a catalyst to a lengthy session of cunnilingus. With the inflated plug and the tension on the neck collar, Little Sam posed in full tumescence, serving as visual stimulus for the entire oral dalliance.

  How devious and deviant! I felt even more used.

  I was the condemned thief in the Palace Square, well bound, erect and waiting to be flogged.

  Liz enjoyed control. On that night she certainly had it and reveled in it. Judging from
the throaty sounds emanating from the room across the hall, she experienced a half dozen powerful orgasms.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The cab ride was short. Liz’s doorman was expecting me and nodded to proceed without announcing me.

  As instructed, when the elevator arrived at Liz’s floor, I paused for the doors to close behind me and quickly doffed all clothing. The small closet was where Liz suggested and was empty except for two umbrellas and a broom. I hung my pants and shirt and stuffed my socks and underwear into my shoes for easy locating later.

  Naked, I rang the doorbell with haste, lest the elevator return with another guest or to deliver quite a surprise to a visitor pressing the wrong button.

  Within several disconcerting moments the apartment door swung open and there stood a very shy Jamie, fully clothed. On this occasion there was no question as to the gender portrayed.

  Tonight, Jamie was a little girl!

  ‘She’ just looked at me and then smiled so bashfully that I felt like a pervert flashing myself to a child. And of course Little Sam reacted as expected, slowing rising as Jamie stared at my shaven pubes area. My hairless testicles, hanging at a level well below what Jamie could ever perceive, drew ‘her’ full attention, and whereas on prior meetings ‘she’ appeared envious, as Liz had suggested, tonight ‘she’ seemed frightened.

  The blond hair was perfect as always. It was the make up that was different. Someone had taken great time to pretty the hermaphrodite. Mascara, eye shadow, lip gloss, plucked eyebrows, false eye lashes. Traces of rouge highlighted his cheeks.