The Party Boy
by Chris Bellows
ISBN: 978-1-942331-48-3
A Pink Flamingo Ebook Publication
Copyright © 2015, All rights reserved
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Chapter One
“Oh he’s adorable. You keep him hairless? Presents his balls nicely.”
“I keep him as presentable as possible. Well groomed, well exercised, well cleansed, inside and out.”
The boldness of the typical questions initially surprised me. Then I subsequently learned that most times, women outside the presence of the male gender, but for Jack, of course, will invariably let down their hair, their language becoming salty, the subject matter of conversation turning ribald. This woman is comparatively tame, but then we’re ‘entertaining’ in Greenwich, a rather upscale Connecticut community.
“May I touch him?”
“Of course, he’s here to amuse.”
And we’ve already been paid, up front, I think to myself. So be amused.
The woman of some fifty years, appearing rather prudish, apparently related in some manner to the bride, steps forth and palms the meaty low hanging testicles of Jack. At this point in our side business of offering CFNM parties (clothed female, naked male) my partner flinches not, despite being without sight and not knowing where an exploring hand will light.
I keep Jack hooded at the beginning of every session. He better stays in what I term subspace, very tame, very meek, nicely accepting of his role of subservience to women.
The woman’s actions bring forth much tittering from the other attendees, all female. And I marvel at the trendy societal change in a bride’s wedding shower. With women’s liberation such are becoming more akin to the raucous gatherings of a bridegroom’s bachelor party.
And here we are.
Having force fed two quarts of water to prompt the penile phenomenon termed ‘piss proud’, primed Jack with Cialis, plus always denying him normal sex, the woman’s touch, though brief, serves as a catalyst for tumescence. Jack begins to harden. And whereas he’s not the biggest boy I’ve masturbated in my career as governess, he’ll put on a good stand for the group. Nicely cut, within moments he’ll be displaying a tummy thumper, the swollen tip of his ten inches pressing against his lower belly.
Hopefully the bride won’t be too envious... or too demanding of her Beau on wedding night.
Sure enough Jack steadily engorges, and the tittering transforms to outright shrieks of laughter.
“That’s amazing,” the woman said somewhat sheepishly. “I hope I was not being brash.”
“It’s what he’s here for,” I offer in comfort.
And it is. Jack will be showing more maleness before night’s end, all subdued to me, his directing partner.
“How is it... well they hang so low? My husband’s... well his are different.”
Yes, the women come completely out of society’s demanded role of priggishness at these gatherings. Which is another reason to keep Jack hooded. Presumably he will never know or be able to recognize the woman who just fondled him. And the group of women quickly realize this.
“He’s been infused. Every week for a few months, I siphoned saline into his scrotum, turning it into a big red balloon. It stretches the skin over time and as you will agree offers a certain... well, I call it ambiance.”
Yes, if you’re in this business of putting the male anatomy on display, one must have something prominent to display. With Jack’s testicles now hanging at mid thigh, it tends to gather attention.
“Are you a Dominatrix?” one of the younger attendees inquires, an apparent bride’s maid.
I smile wanly.
“When he was young, I was his governess. Suffice it to say Jack has been acclimated to obey me.
“I should add ladies that you’re all free to touch and explore while he’s hooded. He will not resist... not even talk. He’s well trained.”
The girl’s question brings memories. As I reach for a glass of wine, the waitress obviously suppressing mild shock, my mind flashes back...
Chapter Two
“But I can bathe myself,” a young Jack protests.
“You won’t. Not while I am your governess... not while I have the responsibility of assuring your cleanliness.”
And not while I so much enjoy the feel of young and smooth hairless skin, I am tempted to add.
Newly appointed as governess, the wealthy parents of Jack have decided that despite his age, nearing puberty, the scamp needs watching. In a huff, too many of the household help have departed, not able to withstand the many pranks. And of late, with hormones beginning to flow, the pranks have become somewhat libidinous, hiding to spy on the maids during toilet and bathing being just one.
My resume is strong in bringing up boys... though only ten years Jack’s senior, I have many years of experience. I raised two very obedient, very respectful to women, younger brothers. Nursing school followed. A term in the children’s ward of a New York hospital furthered my abilities concerning potentially unruly boys. Thereafter, temperament and authoritative manner forged, I struck out on my own.
Being a governess involves countless hours, round the clock duties. Jack is my third effort. And no less a challenge than all the others.
By now I have rituals, knowing very well how to bring a fractious lad down a notch or two, and earn respect. Thus Jack’s first bath.
“I’ve never had a bath like this!” another protest.
“You should now consider yourself fortunate,” I banter, knowing that ultimately I will have total authority over his nakedness.
I have drawn some twelve inches of warm sudsy bath water and direct young Jack to enter and kneel on all fours.
“Why can’t I sit... like normal?”
“Because I need to wash you... all of you. And I need access... to all of you,” my tone turning ominous with the latter words. “Now take off your robe. Don’t be bashful. I’ve scrubbed many boys.”
Ah, that initial moment of introduction, a naked boy and a fully clothed supervising woman. The exchange of power is palpable. And I smile, noting that the protests cease and silence ensues. It makes one wonder why obstreperous boys aren’t kept naked all the time.
Jack has a fine youthful body, his penis already swinging away. He quickly enters the tub and kneels, incorrectly believing he will somehow veil from me his privates. I stifle laughter.
“Now you just kneel and let Governess Kelly do all the work,” my voice soothing in response to his new found docility.
Yes, the feel of young hairless flesh, the power over what will soon become male brawn. It is now in these years that I can mold it, bring respect, and enforce discipline. It is Jack’s first bath... of many.
A soaped chamois cloth swaths, my free hand also exploring. The warmth brings a sense of calm and I know to occasionally run more hot water to assure the lad’s tranquility. I note that when I playfully tweak a nipple, Jack objects not, instead smiling, my touch becoming acceptable. And I am delighted when my hands slowly rub back and belly, moving to cute buttocks, and there comes not a word.
“We do need to wash... all of you,” the once ominous tone becoming more playful.
The chamois works between the thighs. I am testing. And I smile in satisfaction as
young Jack, either deliberately or inadvertently, it matters not, further parts his knees in invitation. Realizing there will be no outbursts, my free hand joins the chamois. I want to feel his penis, palpate his little balls, set an aura of ownership from day one... that in the bathtub, Jack becomes mine.
I am delighted to feel a smattering of stubble, puberty beckoning.
“You’re growing hair, Jack.... down here. That’s not a good thing.”
An outright prevarication, or course, but he knows not that it is normal. I will deal with the growth at another time, but at this time I also want to wash a young brain... hair growth... not good.
I am further delighted when my soft soapy caresses bring stirring to a youthful penis. At this point I will ignore, not wanting him to in any way feel embarrassed in standing for me. In time he will do that for me on cue... and learn to both loathe it and oddly enjoy it.
So I retract my hands and move to the buttocks. Ah, a likely place for good scrubbing... and penetration.
“Have you had a bowel movement today?” my tone of voice becoming clinical.
“I guess so.”
“Well it’s not good to guess. From now on I will supervise your bathroom visits. All my boys are regular... kept regular,” I must add.
I wash thoroughly and a soapy index finger presses to that tight little sphincter. I work and again sensing no physical or verbal resistance, I enter, penetrating slowly, then wriggling about. Even at Jack’s young age I know that developing are the workings of the male anatomy. What my cleansing hands commenced, my penetrating finger will complete. Jack groans but protests not. I surreptitiously lower my head to the side, not wanting him to know I am observing his budding manhood.
Yes, he’s stiff.
Now for the Governess’s coup de grace, establishing power and authority never to be denied.
“All done, Jack. Stand for me and I will dry you,” rising from my kneeling position to obtain a towel.
Boys of Jack’s age are chagrined concerning hard-ons. He, of course, does not move. And I, of course, begin to cross examine concerning his reluctance to fully expose himself to me.
We will have a long talk concerning my duties and his penis. Being totally exposed and erect before a fully clothed woman will never be totally acceptable... always bring a brisance of humiliation. But Jack will come to learn that such is the way it is. I am in charge... and if I want him stiff and naked so be it.
Chapter Three
“He’s nicely circumcised,” a rather saucy girl announces for the group, her observation bringing me from my reverie.
“Thank you. I trimmed him high and tight, as they say. Foreskin can be unsightly, wouldn’t you agree?”
My overt question brings astonished silence from all. Finally, the girl, standing quite proximate to Jack, his hands obsequiously placed atop his hooded head, runs a finger up the underside of his standing penis shaft to where I indeed trimmed him years ago.
“You did this?”
I nod.
“I’m a trained nurse and the procedure is rather simple. Just have to assure you gather suitable flesh in the clamp and incise. In altering the male later in life, the procedure offers wondrous feminine empowerment. Something a boy doesn’t easily forget.”
More awed silence... and another memory...
Chapter Four
It must be understood that there was no implied sexuality in the handling of Jack... early handling. Just as the maids vacuumed the carpeting, tended to the laundry, cleaned the floors, etc, I bathed and cleaned Jack. Stripping for me, kneeling in the bath, enduring my palpating hands became in Jack’s mind as routine as visiting the doctor, having his teeth cleaned by the dentist. It was all clinical. And just as those visits can bring a degree of stress and concern, so it was with Jack. There was always an edginess... and his erect reactions were common. Which I ignored... at the time.
I learned that Jack’s mother, a rather haughty socialite, never really bonded to him. Probably never breast fed him either. And so it came to her as a surprise when, during an early weekly progress report, I informed her of Jack’s phimosis. A lie, of course, Jack’s glans penis retracted quite readily and ably... just about daily. But I like my boys cleanly cut. And as in my reply to the girl commenting on Jack’s circumcision, the procedure when performed on the adolescent male can offer a wonderful bonding experience, implanting notions and thoughts of who really owns and controls the organ.
Well Ms. Socialite, probably never even having changed Jack’s diapers, cared not to discuss a subject or investigate an aberration that was... considered aberrant to persons of culture and class.
I was therefore given the go ahead. And I cleverly used the pending simple operation as a pretense for shaving Jack’s budding foliage, all hair removed.
Yes, a Gomco clamp... adult size at that point... some Novocain, a razor sharp scalpel, and a very obeisant Jack was made to watch as a woman of governance trimmed his vaunted male appendage.
I triumphantly smiled for him during the entire procedure. For him, a great lesson learned.
And of course, during his healing, his Governess Kelly needed constant and immediate access to Jack’s genitals.
“I like you shaved like this, Jack. Don’t you?” I proclaim on day three of recovery.
“It’s... well... it takes time to do that,” his objection mild.... much too mild.
He enjoys!
“Bath time. I can have you shaved every day in a jiffy. I think you’ll feel better. Nice and smooth all over.”
And better to acclimate to the pink silk panties I’m going to have you wear, I should add.
Yes, having read so much Victorian literature, I learned it was both common and much fun to feminize belligerent boys in that era; I began to subscribe to the becalming affect of placing a boy in girl’s undergarments... beginning with my younger brothers. After all, since I was the person to dress them each morning, I was the person who would choose not only the colors and styles but the gender of their garb as well.
Yes, becalming is the term. Boys don’t fight much when donning frilly panties, aggression tamed for some reason. And they certainly don’t play hooky, miss school and disrobe to swim at the local water hole. Instead, in an odd way they sort of become one of us.
Chapter Five
“He’s beginning to drool. He’s not going to ejaculate is he?”
Again, an attendee brings me to the present. I note the tone of the question is not of dread but one of youthful curiosity.
“Pre ejaculatory fluid. Common in the chaste male,” I offer. “And Jack only ejaculates on cue.... requiring my input. He’s trained. No worries.”
No stunned silence on that one. Instead I receive looks and nods of admiration from women having mates with apparent problems of premature ejaculation.
I’d like to do some self promotion at this point, but refrain. I am sure the hostess will at some point reconsider and up the fee. Showing off a naked Jack, quite the well chiseled form in that I keep him exercised, and quite the solid erection as noted, requires a fee of $300. As I explained to the hostess in negotiating the details of this prospective CFNM party, jerking him off for the girls requires another $300.
The hostess declined the latter. But I think, as Jack prominently drools, word will slip that there is much more show to be had.
And I’ve brought lubricant. Having trimmed Jack so high and tight, there is no loose foreskin to stroke. One must grease up that pecker before stroking with the intent of ultimate climax.
As I see the girl’s index finger cautiously dab away some fluid, more memories stream... when Jack first drooled years ago...
Chapter Six
It’s day four after his circumcision. In having been well bandaged, a dressing which I have fun replacing after his daily bath, I know that nightly youthful habit, when teens sexually discover themselves, has been interrupted. Thus as I dry him, patting those growing testicles with matronly tenderness, I note the ooze of
clear fluid. Yes, it is evident that Jack has been masturbating, crusted sheets an obvious clue. And the recent days of forced chastity, his wounded penis tip precluding any lustful stroking, have brought need.
A forthright discussion is required. Though bashful, as usual in discussing male needs with his governess, I cross examine in detail, the level of embarrassment sublime.
“Jack, what is this? Your penis is drooling and I just finished bathing you!” feigning annoyance.
“I know. That happens... for some reason...” his naive response known to be genuine.
“Well, your penis no longer requires a bandage. But I cannot have you soiling those fine panties I have you wearing. Should I diaper you?” my voice stern, a mother threatening to return a child to potty training.
“No. Well sometimes I can get it to stop for a while.”
“When is that, Jack? I want to know... in detail.”
And of course, I know the details, fondling and stroking away at that abundant foreskin... now incised away. But what has not yet occurred to Jack is the consequences of removing that excess flesh. His masturbatory habits will change... must change... by my edict.
Delicious stuff for a woman of my ilk.
So in bonding with me, the woman who strips him and bathes him nightly, the woman who altered his penis tip, Jack downloads, somewhat reluctantly, but divulges his deep secret... indeed detailing how he had been given to drain his penis of the annoying goo. For him, confessing to his Governess is akin to another visit to the doctor or dentist, fully divulging all health issues and needs. I am understanding but firm.
“Tsk, tsk, Jack. You should not be doing that. I forbid it. And besides I don’t think you’ll be stroking this little thing like that going forward. Seems I’ve trimmed you for good reason. You’re now going to have to rely on Governess Kelly for that.”
Clinical... always clinical in early dealings with Jack
Now, I am well aware that some how, despite the tight circumcision, Jack... all boys for that matter... will find a way of ecstatically spewing their seed. The point is for me to timely step into the breach so to speak; offering an alternative... what will become a delightfully exciting and sought after alternative... to prosaic male stroking and frottaging. And that needs to be in place before he relearns that nasty habit.
The Party Boy Page 1
