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Mrs. McConnell knows Jack must request feminine assistance in using the toilet. Thus I fill his bladder so he’ll be in great need upon arrival at her apartment. Just as I directed his steel encased penis this morning, Mrs. McConnell will likewise amuse herself.
A final glass of water imbibed, I smack Jack’s posterior, now covered in sheer yellow and point to the door. My glum ward steps awkwardly, the sandals always requiring acclimation.
Bizarrely dressed as I demand, I’ve procured many customers for his services right in our own building. Neighboring women, initially coy in encountering a man so oddly attired, quickly adapt to Jack’s subjugation when I explain his penchant and his craving for subservience to women.
“If you need your toilets cleaned, perhaps you can be of help to Jack,” I politely suggest, quite the possibility that many have penchants complementing Jack’s needs.
And it has proven to be true. Six neighboring apartments, six bathrooms made spotless each week. And there is advantage. Jack can dash through the apartment building sans the dress and sandals. Theresa on duty at the security desk, smiles in seeing him on video camera prancing with celerity through the halls in ostensible concern. Yet his masochism... his exhibitionism... bring partial tumescence to a well secured penis.
Relieved for a couple of hours of my Governess chores, I put on a sports bra and shorts. It’s time
for my own work out and bath.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The week goes quickly. By Friday Jack has earned $55... eleven women visited, eleven toilets cleansed.
He always returns flustered, complaining about the degradation and the low pay. I politely listen then inform him of the next day’s appointments.
I communicate with the woman requesting a CFNM party in New Jersey tomorrow, getting directions, outlining the protocol for Jack, assuring the base fee of $300 will be advanced before I take away his blanket and unlock his cock cage.
It comes to light that there will be female nudity at the home of this Lesbian woman. I explain that one of the regimens of Jack’s subservience is that he has never gazed at a naked woman and that I forbid it, the satiation of that segment of male curiosity, the eidetic male mind, never to come. I thus write that Jack will be kept hooded if there is such nudity.
The woman writes back quite bluntly... ‘I just want a stiff cock’.
A curious reply for a daughter of Sappho. And since a chaste, randy, testosterone suffused, Cialis charged Jack will be arriving Saturday night, that expectation will be easily fulfilled.
The replies to my trial Craig’s Listing, what I mentally reference as the CMNM experiment, are rife. As with everything on the internet, many insincere responses, some from outright crackpots who seem to have much time and use it to waste the time of others, and a couple worthy of follow up.
Envisioning Jack titillating men who find the male form attractive in a way titillates me. And though my experience with the gay scene is limited, I know most within flagrantly flaunt their sexuality. I doubt if Jack will be comfortable exposing himself to gay men. But it’s when Jack is uncomfortable that his penis hardens most... that is ingrained in his masochistic psyche. And it is something I enjoy feeding and nurturing.
I thus begin corresponding with one man who writes clearly and plainly sets out his desires and what is expected of Jack. And I in turn write clearly and plainly that I am the woman who controls Jack. And then begin setting the rules... that Jack is not to have sexual relations... that his nakedness is only for entertainment... touching of course permitted. And of course, outlining the augmentations... masturbation... ruined orgasm... controlled ejaculation... but only by my governing hand.
My set rules agreed to, I forward a picture of Jack obediently displaying his body, perched on a small stool, head hooded, and his cock caged. The response is enthusiastic, the return email demanding a proviso... if Jack fails to stand... if Jack does not attain a stiff ten inches... the fee is to be returned.
Done deal! Jack is to be presented at a Soho club the following Saturday.
Finished arranging Jack’s schedule, I give thought to his presentation. Perhaps the blanket as covering and the removal thereof for show is too unimaginative. And leading about by the hand, in my mind mother guiding a child, is not domineering enough... to be possibly misinterpreted as the entwining of lovers rather than the feminine governance of a deviant exhibitionist.
“Jack,” I call out. “When you’re finished with the vacuuming, put on some panties and grab your blanket. We need to shop for clothes.”
Well I certainly got his attention. Jack, of course, envisions men’s clothes. I will soon have him disavowed of that notion.
Chapter Twenty-Six
So much aware of Jack’s inner need, his craving for feminine control, forced exhibition, I once again slip away his blanket and toss it the back seat.
“Take off your panties for me. It’s a nice day for you to ride naked.”
My command comes as we traverse the Queensborough Bridge. It’s a warm day so I open the windows, the rush of air over Jack’s hairless skin highlighting his nudity. He must show displeasure, but I know it to be a subterfuge, secretly enjoying being completely bare with a woman in control.
Drivers of automobiles assume that Jack is merely shirtless. But when I pass a truck I slow the speed and honk, bringing the attention of the driver. Looking down he can quickly ascertain Jack’s state of complete dishabille, the gleaming steel cock cage evidencing Jack’s subjugation and ownership.
Such fun!
In Astoria, I turn into a narrow alley way knowing there is parking in the rear... secluded parking. With a little used back door entrance, Jack need not dress. Still I must coax him from the car.
“Come, Jack, Miss Alice is expecting you,” clapping my hands as one would seek to gain the attention of an aloof puppy.
