Page 16 of Miss Elizabeth's Captive

“A little something for your posture, Sam. You’re slumping a bit.”

With her pronouncement, she approached and stood to my side. Very close to my side. I remembered that evening weeks before in my apartment where I so much enjoyed her proximity. She smelled wonderfully fresh then as she did last week and on this visit as well. I turned my head and tried to nestle my face into the soft leather of her thigh, planning to push my nose and lips to her pubes. She laughed and entwined the fingers of her left hand into my hair, first jostling and then working into the strands for a grip. In her right hand were various strips and lengths of leather. Attaining her grip, she pulled my head away and back, forcing my face to the ceiling.

“I see you’re enjoying my story.”

Little Sam, blocked from her view by the table top during the partaking of bisque, was semi erect, his arousal just beginning to dissipate from Jamie’s strangely stimulating presence.

“Hold still, now.”

A wide and thick leather strap was pushed against my Adam’s apple and held in place. The left hand slid from the top of my head to the back of my neck and I heard more rattling. The right hand joined the left and the leather tightened.

“A nice wide neck collar for you.”

Then I felt her working about my wrists, remaining connected together behind my back. She pulled upwards. Her fingers worked and then my wrists rose to a somewhat uncomfortable position. I grunted with a final tug. She smiled and I heard more clicks. A strap connected my wrists to the back of the neck collar. With an impressive thrust of force, Liz had my wrists secured well up between my shoulder blades.

My posture was indeed transposed, though I could not say for the better. There was discomfort unless I forced back my shoulders and held my head unusually high.

I heard Jamie exit the kitchen with a tray of food as Liz circled my ankles with cuffs that felt like those matching my wrists. Because of the restraints I could not turn my head to adequately determine what he carried. It smelled delicious.

As my eyes struggled to follow the naked male ingenue, distracting diamonds sparkling at the ears, nipples and jewel encrusted golden balls, Liz pulled together my ankles. A strap evidently had connected the two and when she pulled my feet involuntarily slid across the carpet and met. Then there was again the sound of rattling as a buckle was threaded and the strap secured.

“There, that’s more appropriate for a fine dinner.”

Liz sat and Jamie patiently stood at attention. A thick slice of prime rib of beef, roasted to pink perfection, fell onto one plate and then the other as an incredibly sharp knife made Liz’s carving effortless. The cuts made me think about Jamie’s little sac being opened years before...with his coerced consent...as a gesture of goodwill in acknowledging the simple kindness of having a Dominant woman loosen a painful clamp and in return for one last ejaculatory spree.

“I timed Jamie’s alteration perfectly, wouldn’t you agree. Sam? He’s so wonderfully undeveloped, in the physical sense. Very little body hair to have depilated. No bulging muscles. Without the hormone flow his physique has wallowed in time, forever projecting the innocence of youth.

“To finish the Stockholm story...more training followed the procedure and within a week, after I obtained for Jamie citizenship papers and a passport from my home country, we started off for Brown. Interesting to think that technically Jamie became and remains a citizen of a country to which he’s never been. But it keeps things very simple for me. I can have him deported at any time. And you can imagine to what employ Jamie would be put back home, a neutered blond infidel in an autocratic Islamic country. Hmm. I wondered what role he would serve...”

Liz laughed and cut into her beef. Jamie cut into mine. I was again to be fed like a child. Only now, with ankles so precipitously close together and chin forced high, keeping my balance was a challenge.

“Help Sam, now Jamie. You know how much I like tight bondage, I wouldn’t want to have to loosen something because he can’t balance himself.”

This spurred Jamie to stand inordinately close, ensuring that I did not topple, by leaning his nakedness against mine and reaching to the plate for each morsel. His skin was so perfectly smooth and soft...and so warm. Little Sam seemed conversely happy with his presence but disappointed in being left to merely stand in tribute.

We ate in silence.

During the meal, Liz drank a very expensive Bordeaux and I was offered an occasional sip of water. Dessert was an apple pie with a topping of crumbled cinnamon seeming to be dripping with butter. It smelled very enticing but I was not offered a slice. Instead, Liz’s delicate fingers pinched some topping that had spilled to the table, rolled it into a small ball and tossed it into the air as she had with the bread.

Fortunately she was very accurate, for I merely opened and caught it with my tongue without having to move, which I could not. Moments later, as Jamie cleared the table, a larger gathering of the buttery cinnamon was pinched from the uneaten remainder of her slice and likewise tossed. I was prepared in watching her fingers and more fully understanding her intentions. I snapped it from the air like a trained dog. It was delicious.

“Good boy! Let’s take Sam into your examination room, Jamie. After last week’s visit I am sure he’s expecting more than just dinner.”

Liz used her smooth sultry voice in hinting at the prandial activities in the ‘examination’ room. Jamie cleared the dishes and momentarily returned to the kitchen.

Liz stooped, removed the strap connecting my ankle cuffs and l

eft Jamie and me alone. When Jamie returned from a final trip to the kitchen, smiling like a little girl, his manicured hand wrapped about my scrotum just as Liz’s had in walking me from the living room. But his grasp was tenderer, more reverential, and seemingly more inquisitive. When I thought about it later, I realized that he was touching something which he had long ago sacrificed to Liz’s whim.

Jamie had me stand and walk to follow him, hand remaining in place. Little Sam appreciated the view of his jouncing buttocks as he pranced on toes, balls clicking.

His grip around my testicles moved about. His effeminate fingers, nails polished in blue, communicated envy...yet also transmitted a curious message.

‘You may still have yours, but look who’s controlling them.’

Chapter Thirteen

It was late Wednesday when the messenger plopped a thick envelope on my desk. When I noticed that the return address was Liz’s Fifth Avenue penthouse, I knew to close the door to my office. Investment bankers are known to engage in very confidential and secretive undertakings and this action would not draw attention. What would draw attention would be any hint of the past weekend frolicking at Liz’s apartment. Since I was not sure what was enclosed in the padded manila, caution seemed to dictate it be opened in seclusion.

---