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Court Hope Springs Eternal Chapter 1 he bailiff stood off to the side of the bench close to the door to the private chambers and announced: “All rise, the Fifth District Court of Transgression is now in session, the Honorable and oh so fine Judge DeeAnna Divine presiding”. With a toss of her ebony curls, the statuesque transgendered Judge entered the court room strutting and sashaying for the crowd as the modest gathering of men seated near the stage hooted and wolf-whistled back. She looked at the gallery smiling through lips heavy with red gloss and placed her hands on her wide hips scolding the assembly; “You boys stop that right now”, but when she continued her journey she was smiling and her hips were working faster so everyone could see her big round butt rotating under her robes. The trial portion of my ordeal had lasted less than half an hour. Judge Divine had been elected to office in a landslide vote based on her “tough on sissies” platform” and I was close to peeing in my panties as she read the charges one more time and prepared to announce sentencing. “Is the defendant ready?” she asked, and my attorney, a timid milk-toast of a barrister dressed in a bowtie and cheap brown gabardine suit nodded his head. “Sir,” she continued, “You best advise your client to get his worthless sissy ass up out of that chair and pay some respect to this court”. I had dressed carefully that day in a ruffled blouse and lavender kilt that extended to mid-thigh and modestly covered my stocking tops yet was still flirty enough to flash my panties if I thought that might help my cause. My accuser, my Mistress Louise, sat off to the right side of the courtroom with a disinterested look on Her lovely face dressed in a green silk dress and wide brim hat. She sat up very straight as the Judge began to speak. “You’ve been found guilty of boorish behavior and the failure to provide any measure of amusement to your Mistress. For these offenses I sentence you to three months of elaborate humiliation and public punishment. She turned to Louise, “Might You join us at the Tavern on the Square Mademoiselle, we can have a pleasant lunch and enjoy Your sissy’s misery. I’ve arranged for a public paddling?” Three young, handsome, muscled deputies entered the courtroom, the first two carried the wooden plate from a pillory that would imprison my head and hands, the third wielded a long handled Yaoi paddle of the type most often used on very bad boys; long handled with a very broad blade carved from a hard wood and polished with expensive oils. Each was naked to the waist and wore a black veil over his face. Their muscled arms were decorated with thick golden bracelets and the shiny leggings they wore clung to every curve of their rumps, thighs, and baskets. I’ve known Alpha males like these before, been beaten by them and used for their sexual release. Sure I was scared, but excited too and anxious to get on with my punishment. The pillory was lifted and separated by a center hinge that closed quickly around my wrists and neck, it has a tongue and groove under plate that would be fixed to a docking station on the turntable where I would be bent and beaten. I dared look one more time at Mistress Louise and saw something dark, cold, and remote in Her eyes. I knew immediately that this was all just another game to Her, another sadistic play aimed at provoking a thick lathering in Her knickers at the expense of my flesh! “Well Mistress Sin Cerra,” I thought, “Two can play at this devious game, and if the sight of my suffering provokes a sticky moment between Your legs, then I will suffer like no one has ever suffered for You before”. I turned to the deputy holding the paddle and noticed a sergeant’s chevrons tattooed on his muscled biceps and knew I could provoke him at will… “Corporal,” I demanded, “How is that someone with such a measly little cock as you, finds himself in the company of such stallions”. The two other deputies laughed and laughed while my punisher gritted his teeth and gripped the Yaoi paddle tightly with white knuckles. “There, faultless Mistress,” I thought feeling proud of my panderings, “If I blister under the paddle it will be at the reward of seeing You writhing in orgasm”. It seemed a worthy trade at the time. I turned to the sergeant, “Don’t worry,” I continued, “After my spanking I’ll do my best to coax the lazy little beauty to some semblance of manhood.” There was little doubt in my mind that I was in for the paddling of a lifetime and I couldn’t wait to see my Mistress squirming with sexual tension. The notion stirred my mind that I, would then be in control of Her, and what a sumptuous notion it was! We marched out of the courtroom on to Lakeside Avenue and as my eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight I could see up Ontario Street to the Public Square. Judge DeeVine must have ordered the city trucks off the streets that day because the garbage cans and dumpsters were lining the street and overflowing. I stared into the crowd; saw the satisfied look on the faces of Dominants who were pleased with my punishment, and the jealous faces of subbies, envious of my situation and my servitude to the glorious Mistress. I began my march to jeers and laughs from all around as the crowd began pelting me with garbage; vegetables, eggs, cold wads of spaghetti-o’s. I would have wept except it seemed a far too joyous occasion. Street vendors lined the sidewalks selling sandwiches and souvenirs, minstrels sang and danced, a blue blimp from a local tire manufacturer sailed through the clear blue sky with its neon billboard blinking “Spanking Today”, “Spanking Today”, “Spanking Today”. Several hundred yards ahead my Mistress-brat was reveling in Her glory as a kind warm breeze lifted Her skirts waist high revealing stockings and garters, plump thighs, and a peach of a derriere packed neatly into a divine pair of polka dot panties. The saucy exhibitionist did nothing to protect Her modesty choosing instead to allow the throngs their brief view of paradise and applaud Her beauty. Only my eyes were denied that treat now covered by gobs of yesterday’s egg-foo-yung hurled at me by two buck-toothed Chinese cooks. At the Public Square Mistress and the Judge took seats at a wrought iron table covered with a rainbow tapestry boliterra and nestled their bottoms on to gay colored pillows of orange and yellow while I was matched to the stage and bent over to have my pillory plate attached to the docking station. Once the head plate was secured one of the deputies cranked a handle that caused the plate to drop down so that soon my back was sloping forward at a 30 degree angle and my hips and buttocks were raised in a perfect position not only for punishment but also for the inevitable rapes that would occur when the sun went down. As my head dipped I could feel my tiny kilt inching up and up and soon a gust of wind coming from the lake let me know my hindquarters were protected only by my flimsy mesh knickers. The sergeant saw a flush of shame burn my face and chortled at me, “This is only the beginning sissy,” he laughed, then took hold of the waist band of my panties and inched them slowly down to half-mast. I tried vainly to shut my eyes to the laughing looks of the assembly. Now my wide rump and my tiniest, most private part were both on display and I could hear my Mistress Louise giggling with a schoolgirl’s glee. The turntable began to rotate around slowly like an amphitheater of punishment and the sergeant took his position at my rear. “Ouch, eek, oooo”, the paddle landed with a satisfying crack crack crack echoing throughout the square, each rotation took five minutes and ten swats and as the time passed I could feel the sexual tension growing in the crowd. The turntable stopped twice with each turn, once when I faced Mistress Louise who scolded me with a tongue lashing that bit deeper than a riding crop, then again half way around so that She might examine my glowing hindquarters and compliment the sergeant on his disciplinary skills. With each pass the crowd grew quieter and quieter. Swollen nipples poked at the fabric of blouses and shirts, trousers grew snugger, girls clenched their thighs tightly together. Slowly, through teary eyes, I began to see people leaving, boys and girls both, heading for the bushes and back alleys and soon the sounds and smells of sex permeated the entire square. Only Louise maintained Her composure although I was certain She was sticky with excitement and then the reality of it all hit me as wickedly as the swats from the paddle. She’s won again, played the game by Her rules, made a fool of me and my desires to manipulate Her. I’d been used to fuel Her passion at the expense of my flesh and now that it was reaching a crescendo She would welcome another’s lips between Her legs, allow some pretty prince or princess to feel the sandpaper scratch of Her short pubic hairs. She walked slowly down from the Tavern and stood directly in front of me. I could see a glazed look in Her eyes and an obvious flaring of Her nostrils that told me She has found favor with my beating. She was as powerful and as beautiful as I had ever seen Her. There was a tense moment of silence before She began to speak in Her soothing, hypnotizing voice. “You’ve done well, My dumb little beast, My nipples are bursting like ripe apricots, and My panties are sopping wet.” I could only smile at the words She spoke with such soft indulgence and felt consumed with an overwhelming desire to obey. Just as a lightening bolt pierces through the night sky illuminating the dark oceans, the beauty of this moment lit my being with a luminous flouroscity. I would always find my passions in the compliance to Her will and through my suffering I had brought Her to where She had always wanted me to take Her. She touched my face, “I must run and have My itch satisfied. Thank you darling, and remember there is always a tomorrow for a sissy like you”. There always is tomorrow for a sissy who heart springs with hope eternal. My flesh would heal, and spirits would soar. More importantly, I could hunger for my Mistress again, and again, and again… Chapter 2 My month of humiliation began the day after my public punishment and consisted of an hour’s promenade each day during the lunch hour around the Public Square. Judge Divine had decreed that I wear a wooden A-frame sign around my neck declaring that I had been a boorish sissy unable to bring any gaiety into the life of my beautiful Mistress Louise. The message on the A-frame continued declaring the fact that I had been publicly paddled and that Judge Divine was evoking the long-forgotten “Citizens Spanking Act” so that any gentleman or lady who found themselves thoroughly disgusted by me, had the right to lower my drawers and punish my naked hindquarters. The stares I received from the smart gentlemen and ladies who lunched at that venue shamed me as much as the frilly attire I had been ordered to wear and the additional fear of further corporal punishment kept me as nervous as a whore in the confessional. My punishment costume consisted of tight-fitting velvet pants, silk stockings, and a lace collar. My girl’s single strap shoes with awkward little heels made me stumble about clumsily and my ankles were confined in little black fetters of polished steel connected by a chrome chain. Combined they caused my buttocks to sway provocatively soliciting giggles from all the ladies and gropes and pinches from the gentlemen. They all scolded me and called me names and of course my face burned with shame but I still found the entire episode intriguing and so exciting that I dripped shamefully wetting my knickers. It seemed as though the entire community was enjoying the spectacle of my humiliation just as generations had always visited the Public Square to watch sissies and frilly boys get the punishments they deserved. The ancient birching blocks and spanking benches from the middle 1800’s still existed along with newer stocks and pillories so that an air of eroticism existed and everyone could almost feel a sexual static electricity. Everyday I was asked probing intimate questions about my life and my failures and it seemed they had a deeper knowledge of my life than I had ever expected. I would learn much later that the morning papers had run a serialized account of my dreadful life. “Aren’t you the chap that was caught whacking off at the regal Cineplex”, one elderly gentleman asked? His wife a kindly octogenarian dressed in rather formal attire sighed so deeply I thought she might feint. I wanted desperately to answer back with a sassy “so what, doesn’t everyone whack off at the Cineplex”. But I lowered my eyes and admitted my guilt even told the story of how the house lights were brought up and the Manager, a swarthy Jewish fellow with an unpleasant odor marched me to center stage, lowered my britches and slapped my derriere while the audience joined in clapping their hands with every swat and an echoing slap greeting every bounce of my chubby buttocks. My punishment and shame continued with the afternoon marches and my once a week visit to the offices of the judge. During those hours on the Public Square I could have died of shame many times when they asked probing, intimate questions about my behavior, and they all did. I couldn’t lie, I didn’t dare. But the looks on their faces when I had to admit my weaknesses haunt me to this day. It was a scalding conundrum! If I remained a ridiculous sissy boy trying vainly to look like a girl I would continue to be mocked and disgraced. But if I gave myself over wholly to femininity and could pass as a real girl could I live an almost normal life? I had only one source of advice at this point so at my weekly meeting with Judge Divine I sought her council and wisdom. “You have one chance and one chance only,” Judge Deevine said that day. “You must become the darling little drag queen Louise wants you to be, a cuddly little cross-dresser who can primp and mince for Her enjoyment”. “That is the enigma, which is the sissy’s curse. You hunger for your trousers, yet melt to the feel of silks and satins. You try desperately to act like an improper young woman, but everyone can see you are just an effeminate young man. “You must strive to be Her little Miss High-Heels, to teeter and totter on ridiculously slender spikes, then and only then might you find the comfort of her inviting lap”. “If you can find a way to keep a smile on Her face and a lather in Her knickers perhaps you can find a meaningful life”. I looked closely at the Judge, from her sensible 34-B implants to the impeccable pedicure of her toes she was the essence of femininity. She smelled like lemons and cream and moved with that feline grace that I hungered for so much. Yet between her ears was the mind of a man and between her legs a pulsing essence like that of any man that yearned for release. The Judge removed her robes revealing transparent black stockings hitched to thin lace garters that caressed her lightly oiled mahogany thighs. Her gold spandex dress had been constructed for a much smaller woman and when she turned her back to me I could see the skirts was stretched tightly across her ass and barely hung an inch or two below that voluptuous harvest moon. With a burst of boyish enthusiasm I reached out and groped her buttery buttocks and Judge Divine moved at once with the grace of a ballerina and the strength of a prizefighter. She snatched up a five pound city phone directory and in one fast well-timed move caught me on the side of the head knocking me ass over elbows on to the floor of her chambers. She was on me in a second with her big rump on my chest and her smooth thighs on either side of my face. I looked up into the V of a designer pair of panties drinking in as it were, the luscious radiance which I had suddenly discovered encompassed her. “Don’t fuck with me sissie!” she shouted, “I’ll staple your balls to the court house wall”. “Now open up wide young Miss”, she demanded removing her trannie cock from the confinement of silky designer panties and slapping the head against my willing painted lips. “The scales of justice wait for no one”. “Teach me Mademoiselle, school me in the grace of femininity” I implored, and went to work like a child savoring his first popsicle. Chapter 3 After that day Judge Divine claimed complete control over me and my behavior. “It’s all about cum control” she said, “Orgasm denial is at the base root of every D/S relationship. A worthless little wanker like you should have been placed in chastity years ago”. Louise had threatened me of course but never actually locked me away. She made abstinence demands of me, usually three days before each session, and almost to the meeting I failed miserably and received several dozen cane strokes across my chubby posteriors, and rightfully so. Judge Divine removed several items from a corner cabinet, ordered me to strip and bend over her desk. She snapped on a pair of latex gloves, opened a new jar of “Boi Butter”, and worked two fingers into my rectum. All I could do is grunt. When my little penis began to stiffen she snapped a thin leather switch against the pink head and it quickly wilted. She continued massaging and removing her fingers every few minutes to apply more lube and though my cock twitched a few times, it refused to stiffen. Twenty minutes later a large pool of pre-cum covered the top of her desk and four fingers were now probing my loose orifice. The trannie judge moved her other hand along the shaft of my flaccid penis with a marvelous delicacy, the kind of feathery touch a prince would expect from a well schooled Geisha-boi. I was almost breathless, hyperventilating. My anus snapped shut around her fingers as drop after drop of pre-cum spilled out of me, and then oh so slowly a small glob of white semen plopped down on to the desk. She ran her fingers up and down against the shaft from base to head, with each journey another glob dropped to the wooden surface. Ten, fifteen, twenty more times till my prostate had emptied completely. I turned around and licked up the mess, retrieving quickly what had taken so long to loose. Judge Divine locked me into the plastic chastity device, worked a thick plug called a “Rude Boi” into my anus and secured it all. For all I knew, perhaps forever! In time I’d learn the intruding missile was a space-age device fitted with sensors that could measure my heart rate and BP, my pulse, and even my REM rate while sleeping. Even the slightest hint of a “wet dream” and the “Rude Boi” would zap my P-spot with a tingling shock that began a mechanical milking process. My favorite toy was locked away, perhaps for eternity, and I felt myself rise immediately to a heightened stage of sexual agitation. But before I left her office for my final march of penance Judge divine had one more slap of justice to provide. She walked me to the door then removed a six ounce aerosol can from under her robes. The label read “Essence of Venus” and the letter V was a drawn caricature of the feminine temple. She opened the door and pushed me into the hallway of the justice center then sprayed my blouse from left to right covering both nipples. When the fragrance wafted to my nostrils I trembled then shouted at the closed dark oak door: “You’re a wicked, miserable cunt Judge Divine”. I knew the scent well from years of servitude, it usually came after a particularly satisfying ass-whipping when Louise would scold me as I remained strapped down over a spanking bench. “Look what you’ve done you little slut’”. She’d moved forward briefly, all too briefly, pressing the crotch of Her wet kickers against my face so that I might for the tiniest moment savor the scent of Her excitement and feel a honey-glaze cover my lips! I moved quickly up Ontario Street towards the Square with the “Rude Boi” spanking my P-spot, my nipples poking through my blouse, cursing the Judge and wanting to whack off more than I ever had in my miserable life. The Square was strangely vacant that day, as though everyone had tired of me and gone to seek other thrills. At the southeast corner a long black limousine was illegally parked and an elderly woman was seated on a folding chair with an attending chauffeur at her side. As I approached I could see that she was ancient, older than anyone I’d ever seen, perhaps wiser. She was dressed in burgundy lace from head to toe, her wrinkled neck covered completely and her white curly hair clothed with an elegant shawl. I stopped briefly at her side and she looked up at me with a quizzical look on her face then turned to the attendant speaking in Italian. It was obvious she didn’t understand had probably never seen a sight so ridiculous as a sissie with an A-frame sign declaring his worthlessness. The chauffeur read my charges off the sign and when he reached the part about my masturbatory excesses a cloud seem to come over the old woman’s face. She spat something undecipherable at me then rummaged through a crocheted handbag to slowly remove the most lethal looking hairbrush I had ever seen. Something in me snapped. I shouted at her. “Don’t act so superior, as though you’ve never shopped in that aisle. I don’t see anyone lining up to lick the cobwebs off your old pussy”! In a flash the chauffeur had removed my A-frame, lowered my britches, and bent me fully over the Signora’s lap and the first swat landed like a shot from a .38 caliber police special. “Ouch”. Then another and I knew immediately this wasn’t the feeble arm of an old woman or the meager lap of a spinster. Her thighs were rich and ample and I could almost feel a geyser of steamy sexuality as I arched my rump to each stroke. She finished and moved quickly to the limo and when the door opened I saw a naked red headed girl bound on the floor and when the first squeal sounded I knew a slippery tongue had found what it was supposed to find. For a brief moment I felt calmed even with my ass cheeks blazing, the kind of calm that you only know with orgasm, and then the scream came from the backseat of the limo as it drove away. I watched the car turn the corner and head west towards Detroit Avenue, by now I wasn’t surprised that the license plate read “MLD”! Who can explain the cosmos? Who can understand the thousands of mysteries? Not a sissie like me, that’s for sure. But somehow I understood fully that my Mistress and I were somehow joined by the presence of only one orgasm. The longer I remained celibate her releases would become longer, more potent, staggering in their force. Could She stand it, could I? Chapter 4 I didn’t understand it all, not yet anyway. Had Louise made a gesture for me to return to Her service, and were our sexual tensions so tightly intertwined by some mysterious cosmic force that She needed my chastity to bring Her to the ultimate orgasm? What better reason could there be for a sissy like me to pull on her best detectives panties and begin a thorough investigation! I needed a job, a job that would allow me access to Her and Her home. The greasy pizza shop looking for a delivery boi/gurl was run by a stubby, swarthy looking Syrian named Tiger who walked with a limp and smoked a never ending supply of camel cigarettes out of the corner of his mouth. He was stingy with the pepperoni but had generous hands that never knew a boi’s butt that they didn’t like. It was the only time I was thankful for my plug and chastity because every worker there ended up face down on the prep table with a face full of flower and a butt full of Tiger. The job was minimum wage, but I could stay rent-free in a small basement room and it was the closest pizzeria to Louise’s castle and I knew a call would come from there in time. Everyone needs a piece once in a while, even a Goddess like Her. Besides, I loved the neighborhood. Tiger’s was squashed in between a XXX Video store and a 24 hour bodega so there was a constant hum of humanity, everything from slender Puerto Rican drag queens to business men in expensive suits. If it wasn’t the huevo and chorizo burritos on one side of me, it was the one eyed monsters poking through glory holes on the other that kept them coming. You could have called it an urban Eden. There is something primitive and sexual about the inner-city. The steamy concrete streets, dingy alleys, and occasional green patches of park or city garden pulse with a vital sensuality of their own and as darkness falls you can hear and smell lust in the air. The streets were lined with t-girls of the night in high-heels and skin tight hot pants, drag queens in fishnet tights, and lean bad boys in blue lipstick. It’s a place to meet new lovers and discover old ones, talk about breast augmentations and botox injections, or just feel randy as hell. Every night was a new adventure with the prospect of being locked into a luscious 69 with a complete stranger or becoming the bend-over boy for a hunky sailor or leather Master; and all in an atmosphere of complete safety. It’s probably been five years now since Congress gave local law enforcement the right to handle petty crime on the streets and the results has been staggering. No more purse snatching, no more pick pockets, no more petty theft, just a lot of bad boys and girls with blazing sore butts. The police along with the reinstallation of the C.S.A. (Citizens Spanking Act) brought the possibility of a new lily white bottom, bared and beaten crimson every night, another naughty interlude, another glorious release! How could anyone not love the inner-city? In a short time I began to understand my body rhythm and had a new respect for Louise’s knowledge about the male psyche. About three and half days were it for me, the maximum time I was programmed to go without release! Everything changed from my breathing to the way my nipples poked through my blouse, and if I became a little bitchy, it seemed only natural. But that “Rude Boi” was programmed perfectly to read my needs and at the moment I thought I’d go nuts it would begin singing and dancing, spanking up against my P-spot till my panties were soaked and I was brought back down to base level again. You can tell I was desperate, can’t you? I’d been jerking off six or seven times a day for as long as I could remember and now faced the possibility of permanent celibacy. FOR-FUCKING-EVER!!!!! Then one day I picked up the phone, “Tiger’s Pizzeria” I purred, “are you looking for a piece, or a whole pie”. The throaty low-pitched voice made my sphincter snap. “I want a big one, I want the works, I want it all and I want it now. But it’s got to be hot and juicy honey, it’s got to really fill me up. Can you deliver baby, I need it now, right now”. Just the sound of Louise’s voice blow’s my skirt up, gives me a cheap thrill like buying your first vibrator, it just doesn’t get any better than that. “Twenty minutes,” I said, and the sexy soothing voice answered “Get it over here fast Spanky.” In twenty minutes I was standing in from of the door I’d visited so many times before, nervously I rang the bell and waited patiently. When the door opened I was disappointed for only a moment. It was the redhead from the limousine, naked as a baby, and I took a long long look. She was hot, long waisted, long legged with freckles in all the right places that seemed to be begging for a tongue. Her breasts were tiny and topped with big cherries like an ice-cream cone and the lips of her pussy shaved and puffy. I could hardly speak. “$14.99”, I finally stuttered. She went to a table and counted out the exact amount, handed it to me, and took the box out of my hands. “What, no tip”, I said. She turned her back to me and bent over with the limberness of an Olympic gymnast till her head was almost touching the floor. The shocking pink almost blinded me and I felt like a senior citizen with cataracts going into macular shock. My eyes grew as wide as saucers and my tongue began to stiffen, my mouth became cotton-dry. I went first to the little bull’s-eye with its delicate little wrinkles spreading out radically from the mysterious tiny center, then down to the velvety lips of her pussy; pudgy, short, petulant and pouty. The entire landscape was devoid of foliage, not a single remnant of stubble, not the finest, tiniest little red hair. This kind of barren destruction could only have been achieved with a sinister purpose and performed by a cackling Louise holding tweezers in one hand and a chilled glass of Russian vodka in the other. It was easy to imagine the redheaded brat squealing and the incomparably beautiful Mistress claiming another conquest. I almost dove into her face first, but a thump sounded overhead, and then another and I knew it was a bed’s headboard banging up against the wall. My body began to buzz just the way it had at the Public Square and then a strange calmness came over me. The throaty voice from upstairs wailed “YES, YES, YES”. The redhead stood up and turned to me, “She’s driving us crazy, just fucking crazy. For some reason Her orgasms are going off the seismographic chart. I think I’ve got a callous on my tongue already”. I watched a gorgeous Prince walk down the stairs looking like he’d been run over by a garbage truck then heard a shout: “Get your ass up here, Red, I need some attention”! Chapter 5 I ran from the Castle desperate to return to the mean streets of my sexual ghetto to search for some relief from this horrible torture that had become my life! There had to be someone with the answer to this orgasm mystery and that answer would relieve me of this chastity and allow my return to that land of delicious little explosions that had been the focus of my life for such a very long time. It was one of those steamy summer nights when everyone’s libido was at a fever pitch with a full moon sparkling in the summer sky like a beacon. Every street corner was lined with bad bois strutting in their peacock costumes, showing off their tight little tummies and pretty behinds, making eye contact with others in an unspoken courtship; a sexual cruise that always led to the bushes or back alleys. I stopped at a Middle Eastern sidewalk café with tables full of swarthy men playing Dominoes and drinking apple tea, a boy I know, a boy named Tara began to dance to a sensual exotic rhythm played on melodic lutes and punctuated by the beat of urgent drums. Tara was Turkish and of ambiguous gender; dark and beautiful and dangerously slender yet blessed with round thighs and hips and the kind of curvy buttocks that please men like these, nomads accustomed to being solely in the company of other men. The air was thick with the sweet scent of Turkish tobacco and I watched the yellow eyes of a very old man as Tara’s hips clicked in a sensuous circular motion. He cackled something to another old man in some indecipherable tongue but the look in his eyes told me what he said, it was lewd and pornographic and perfectly appropriate! When the music ended Tara walked from table to table to receive tributes of money for his performance and when the cackling old man offered a purse filled with gold he refused and stared the man down saying “I’d rather suck the cock of an old camel than come that close to you”. He took my arm and we began walking down the street to a wave of laughter from the patrons of the café. “Why are you so sad little flower” he asked, “seeing you like this makes my heart heavy’. I explained my situation, the public punishment and my sentence of chastity, the mystery of the singular orgasm. Tara ran his hands between my legs to examine the chastity tube then up into the crack of my ass where the “Rude Boi” had remained firmly planted for what now seemed to be an eternity. We reached his apartment and he guided me a flight of stairs into a spacious loft with brick walls covered with posters of revolutionaries; Che Guevara, Ho Chi Mihn, Lenin. A handsome boy met us at the door with a dark muscular body like a gymnast and when he turned his back to lead us into the salon I saw that he was covered with red welts from a small whip, the kind usually used on dogs. “This is Mustafa”, Tara announced, “It pleases him to serve me. The boy led us past a leather sling hanging from hooks drilled into the ceiling to a low divan with cushions of many colors and once we were seated he removed Tara’s sandals and began to massage his feet with eyes filled with so much love I wanted to cry. His cock had thickened and his nipples darkened to a purplish color and I felt driven to speak. I reached down and touched his cheek. “You’re a lucky boy to be beaten and fucked by someone you love; I envy you more than you’ll ever know”! I retold my story again while Tara took notes with a slender golden pen on a tablet of ivory linen stationary and when I finished he began to speak. What he said still rings in my ears these many years later. “I believe from what I’ve learned that She is a Goddess, a sexual Goddess” Tara said. “It’s rare but it does happen. This Louise has connected Her feminine energy to the greater energy of the Universe and some how you have gotten in the way, involved in that process and your continued chastity will lead Her to ever-growing indescribable orgasms”! It was an enlightening observation but came as little surprise to me as I’ve made a study of Her through notions of power, intelligence, and of course beauty. “She’s meant to be worshipped”, I replied, “She’s lovable, gorgeous, sassy, and so wise. If through my sacrifices I can bring Her to such moments of bliss, then so be it. I will remain as chaste as a Buddhist monk for all eternity”! “Impossible” Tara said. “No one has ever survived that journey without sliding into lunacy, not even a Goddess. As the rippling inside her grows flaps and stirs Her sexuality like flames as soft as feathers, She’ll become molten, helpless, capable of nothing more than inarticulate cries. When that happens She will become vulnerable. I’m sure others have sought to tame Her in the past! Jealous Masters and Mistresses will pounce on Her frailty. She’ll be tamed by others, spanked for their amusement, turned into a brat-princess used for the delight of those who dominate her, probably sold into slavery”. “What can I do Tara, what can I do to save Her”? Tara thought for just a moment then spoke very softly, “go to the house of Josef the gypsy but be very careful, he’s not to be trusted”!!!! Chapter 6 The streets were lined with sidewalk cafes as I made my way into the gypsy section of the city and it appeared that every beautiful woman in town had decided to join in the steamy night’s celebration. They sat sipping their Cosmopolitans or white wines, laughing at the silly boys that tried desperately to gain their attentions, crossing this long leg, then that, offering a teasing glimpse of stocking and garter. I decided long ago that these flirtations came naturally to women along with the estrogen and those delicate parts that separated the girls from the boys. And of course Louise was the consummate tease, that special exhibitionist that could drive a boy to insanity with an uncommon ease as so many of us had learned the hard way. If only I were born a Dominant! I’d have that brat Princess bottom up and face down over-my-knee teaching her a good lesson in sexual politics. But why fantasize now? I had a journey to finish and a job to complete. A quartet of chorus boys on the way home from practice stopped to give an impromptu performance for a table full of leather Mistresses at a sidewalk cafe. They were still dressed in dancing gear, tiny t-shirts and snug leggings, along with leg warmers and slippers and they looked absolutely divine. I stopped to enjoy the show jealous of their tight little asses and muscular thighs. The eldest Mistress, a handsome mature woman of some fifty years, ordered cold plates of food; chicken and sausage, sliced tomatoes and hard-boiled eggs, crusty Italian bread with a superb olive oil/rosemary dipping sauce. The waiter brought jugs of wine and long stemmed glasses and soon the boys had joined the ladies for a midnight feast. It was one of those superbly gay times that stay in your memory forever. One of the boys, a cute full-lipped blondie named Ritchie playfully announced that he was celebrating his birthday this day and that’s when the party really began. There were orders for more drinks and a cake, a chorus of Happy Birthday, and then the most delightful playful spanking I’d ever observed. A saucy red haired Mistress took the boy over her lap and with a great deal of pomp and circumstance delicately placed her fingers inside the waistband of his spandex leggings and with glacier slowness snaked them down over his hips while the rest of the ladies jeered and made such lewd comments the boy turned crimson red and hid his face in his hands. Twenty-two smacks later his baby-smooth bottom was as red as his face and everyone enjoyed his look of shame on his face and the display of excitement between his legs. It was a delightful exhibition of the beauty and strength of women and the frailty of men and the entire episode made me realize how dreadfully I missed Louise and Her firm direction. I felt hot all over and as tightly stretched as a bow string. It had been such a long long time since She’d delivered my last beating, bent me over till my head was lowered to the floor, bound me and had Her way with a heavy strap or paddle. Strange isn’t it! Strange how a masochist yearns for the joy of pain from someone he adores. I decided it was time to find the gypsy Josef and solve this dreadful conundrum that was my plague and I left the café and started into a dark and dangerous part of town. Men driving automobiles drifted very slowly down the streets peering out at the crowds of boys selling their wares under dim lampposts that highlighted their charms and hid their horrors. The men’s eyes seemed black and hollow, almost lifeless like Vampires and ghouls are depicted in the movies, several already had their zippers down and were stroking themselves with a staccato rhythm. Clouds drifted in and over the moon and the streets became darker still. I felt like a stranger in a strange land and was assaulted with smells and sound that sent a chill down my spine. Dim lights glowed from the windows of old row houses that smelled of boiled cabbage and chicken parts and the men drifted in and out of several with pretty boys in tow leaving little to the imagination about the purpose of their journey. I looked inside a small theater set up in a large sitting room of a home very close to the street and watched another boy being brutally fucked by an android robot with a huge rubber cock. The audience sat in rapt silence with their hands between their legs while more boys drifted between the seats with offers of sex; a hot mouth or a snug anus. A dark ugly man grabbed my arm roughly. He was wearing a red fez and had a small single tailed whip connected to his belt with a lanyard. “I know you” he said, “I know you from another life, a life centuries ago”. I pulled away quickly, “you’re crazy, a crazy man”. But he persisted. “I captured you in battle, strapped you over my camel, whipped your chubby buttocks with a willow rod and made you my slave”. A strange feeling came over me as though I were in a dream or some magical trance; his eyes glinted at my expression. “You do remember don’t you? I raped you in my tent, spread your legs and fucked you like a woman till you squealed. But you begged me not to stop, remember boy, do you remember the wonderful fullness of my cock inside of you”? I could see his cock throbbing inside his trousers. He put his arm around my waist and pulled me closely to him opening my shirt and lowering his lips. “Look how your nipples swell with excitement till they’re plump as grapes in my mouth”. He sucked them like no one ever sucked them before with his wicked mouth and serpent’s tongue and I knew at that moment that was a vile place. There were forces there far too dark to imagine and an evil magic capable of enslaving any sexual boy even those with true hearts. I began to run down the street with images and sounds flashing before my eyes as real as real can be! My memory was as clouded as my eyes that were now full of tears, but strangely I did remember. I saw an arid land and a tent with shadows inside illuminated by a gas lantern. There were muffled cries from a supine body and an arm striking quickly down with a thin rod. I heard the thwack, thwack, thwack of a cane against soft skin. Then moans, whimpers, begs for leniency, helpless begs while I continued to run worried now that maybe it did happen, maybe I had existed in a previous life! A limousine screeched to a stop and I was pulled off my feet and thrown on to the floor of the backseat. When I raised my eyes they were riveted between ivory female thighs leading to a plump mound of Venus covered by a tiny triangle of black nylon. The slap came so fast I never saw it just felt the left side of my face burning and my ear ringing. I looked up. “I’m the Lady Capricorn” the husky voice said, “who are you and what the fuck are you doing in this dangerous place”? Chapter 7...Final Chapter “I’m the Lady Capricorn,” the husky voice said, “who are you and what the fuck are you doing in this dangerous place”? It was the Mistress from the sidewalk café, the elder mature Domina who had been in charge at the birthday party and I was thrilled and frightened to be in her presence, the presence of a woman rich with beauty and power. I rubbed away the sting from my cheek and made an attempt at a feeble apology, but she cut me short. “A boy like you knows better than to stare at a woman’s pussy, at least without asking permission”! My eyes grew bright with anticipation, “then may I”………another slap rocked my cheek and the Mistress laughed and crossed her legs pleased with herself at making me look foolish so easily. “No, you may not and even if you thought of it I’d give you an ass whipping you’d never forget. I can guess you’re no stranger to ass whippings”! My face colored quickly and I lowered my eyes to the floor, “No Mademoiselle I’m no stranger to discipline, and to answer your question I’m called fancypants and till recently have been the property of the magnificent Louise D. Do you know Her”? “Only by reputation," she said and the constant talk of her incomparable beauty. But why are you here in this treacherous filthy part of the city”? For what seemed like the hundredth time I repeated my story again from start to finish; my public paddling, the sentence of chastity, and the phenomenon of the singular orgasm. By the time I was finished I was shaking and small tears ran down my cheeks. Capricorn looked at me with a raised eyebrow and disbelief painted all over her handsome face then took me in her arms and soothed me against her large fragrant breasts. She was gorgeous and pliant; the absolute fruit of the flowering of womanhood and for the first time in a long time I felt safe and secure. She ordered the chauffeur to turn the limo around and drive quickly to the Studio of Mistress Louise D. “I’m more than a little skeptical sissy but I’ll help you, if there is danger, together we’ll save your Mistress.” In less than fifteen minutes we were standing at the entry to Louise’s Studio and Capricorn placed a well manicured hand on the solid mahogany door and wrapped three times with an unmistakable authority. “Can I help you?” the naked redhead asked giving the dominant Mistress a flirty look and me a look of total disgust. “I’ve come to counsel with the Mistress Louise”, she said reaching into her purse to remove an ivory linen business card with embossed printing in burgundy and gold that said simply Lady Capricorn, Domina Extraordinaire! “Please have a seat here,” the redhead said pointing to a gorgeous cherry wood sofa then promptly dropped the business card and bent over to retrieve it giving Capricorn a view of her most intimate feminine charms. “Terri,” a husky voice shrieked from the top of the stairs and we all turned our heads and watched the Mademoiselle glide delicately down dressed in a little black Gucci dress that hugged Her wonderful curves. “Pardon my slave girl’s manners,” she said then turned the redhead around and delivered two sharp open handed slaps one to each side of her heart shaped freckled ass. Terri marched quickly to the corner, placed her hands on her head, and remained there with quivering thighs, two delightful red hand prints decorating her derriere. Capricorn smiled broadly. “If you ever need someone to baby sit the brat, let me know,” she said, and they both laughed. “What can I do for you Mistress?” Louise asked, “Has my former sissy offended you”? The ladies walked to a small conversation table in an anteroom right off the hall and took seats at a small oval table with a glass top. In moments a boy arrived, a far too pretty boy, with chilled goblets and a bottle of the legendary sexual potion Absinthe in an ice bucket. He poured two glasses and Louise thanked him and petted his bottom as he walked out of the room giving me a condescending look. I let Capricorn speak and she repeated the story as I had spoken it to her not an hour earlier. “That’s preposterous!” Louise said when she had finished, “Pure fiction, the ranting of a lunatic. My orgasms are mine alone and of no concern to you or this boy. He cares only about his sentence of chastity and the loss of his little explosions. Why would you believe this fantastic story Lady Capricorn?” The Domina took a stiff drink then began a narrative that has stayed in my heart all these years. “Darling Louise,” she said, “Look at the simple boy. Can you not see how he adores you? Are you blind to the fact that he lives for your smile, and dies for your kiss? He considers your bondage being locked in to heaven. He may be dull, Mademoiselle, but he is honest and possesses a pure heart”. “And Louise, look at him again. Can you really believe he’s smart enough to dream up this ridiculous story?” It was Louise’s turn now to take a stiff drink, then another. She seemed unsure of Herself for the first time ever! “If what he says is true eventually your orgasms will take control of you as they take control of weak men”. Capricorn stopped to let that sink in. “You will lose your power dear, become dependent on the little joys between your legs. When that happens you will be fair game?” They both poured another glass. “I have a stable full of pretty slave girls Louise, but none as beautiful as you, if I saw a weakness I’d take advantage of it, collar you, send you to your knees to serve me”! Now I had to speak even with the certainty of a frightful whipping. “Others would be less kind Mistress,” I began, “Your old nemesis Jacqueline for instance. She’d have her LJ brand on your rump and parade you naked through the streets, paddle your buttocks, and demand a busy tongue.” “Enough”, the flawless Mistress shouted. Louise took Capricorn by the hand and led her to the door. They hugged and shared a tiny kiss, and then Louise whispered something into her ear, something that would remain a secret for several decades. Over twenty years later Capricorn wrote and published her memoirs and chronicled a torrid weekend where a grateful Louise visited wearing only a Burberry raincoat and a pair of Jimmie Choo stiletto heels. It became a game of sexual roulette with each Alpha female struggling to gain the upper hand. Now Mistress, now slave, now red, now black, they went back and forth till a full seventy-two hours later they laid giggling and sweating in each others arms in a tangle of long shapely legs. They both agreed after this divine debauchery to never do it again for surely one of them would surrender dominance to the other. As for me, my life continued as a lovely illusion cloaked in satin lies. Louise left the room and returned without her little black dress; a symphony in silk stockings and garters. She carried a large wooden paddle and wore a shiny black rubber phallus between Her legs and removed my chastity with a golden key that hung from a golden chain dangling in the cleavage of her precious little breasts. My cock so long a useless prisoner sprung to life with the vigor of a teen-ager. I dropped to all four like an animal and when the first swat landed I began to scurry through the Studio with my Mistress in pursuit. At times I felt every inch of my backside glowing; at times She concentrated on one spot of one cheek delivering three or four good hard cracks. These were the moments when I cried the loudest; when She laughed the hardest. “I’ve missed your fat sissy ass, missed your sobs and your pleas,” She declared looking now like a raging carnivore with blazing eyes and lips wet with spittle. I was driven into a corner of a room, the medical room, and like a rodent sought to burrow into the carpet but only succeeded in offering my ass in an even more accommodating position. She opened me with Her gloved fingers and the aid of a scoop of Boi Butter and I surrendered easily as I had so often in the past. Louise mounted me with a grunt pushing the large head of the phallus rudely into my prostate causing waves of pleasure to weaken me further. I felt Her hot breath at my ear, felt the softest kiss, and those words that became part of my soul: “Welcome back baby”. After that there was a blinding flash that seem to obliterate all sense of being. She reached around with a gloved hand and stroked me in perfect cadence with Her perfect hips. A little explosion, my tiny joys, no darlings, it was like a neutron bomb and when it was over I was feverish and limp and so grateful. “Now clean up your mess, and fetch me a cup of tea, and be quick about it”. “Oui Mademoiselle, whatever You want”! ……………………………………………………………………………………… The following day I accompanied Louise to a trendy book store on Shaker Square where She purchased a leather bound diary with ivory pages containing feint cranberry lines, an antique fountain pen and a large bottle of emerald green ink. The owner, an odd dark man with a foreboding presence, inquired if Mademoiselle was perhaps taking an extended vacation and sought to chronicle Her travels. She laughed, “I only seek to record the progress of my passions Sir, from day to day, month to month. My chastity was already back in place and I was certain She would take it all just a little farther this time, building the strength of Her orgasm at the expense of mine! I walked down an aisle filled with book on vampires and werewolves, another about voodoo, still another about magic in the Middle Ages. We left the store and I looked back to see the dark brooding man was watching us carefully with his eyes glued to our derriere’s. The sign above the door read Josef’s Emporium of the Esoteric and Occult. I guessed there would be more to this tale!!!!! |