Chapter One

 

"You understand that though my business card reads 'Sex Counselor', most would suggest I am a dominatrix... a professional dominatrix. Do you know what that is?"

"Yes... ah... ma'am."

The tall, broad shouldered woman of color smiles. It's a warm smile, a handsome face. Matronly some would call it. A child would sense comfort and security in the woman's presence. And I would as well... if not humbly kneeling before her with my hands on top of my head. Instead I find myself somewhat quaking.

The exchange of power is palpable, particularly when one glances to her right side where behind stands her assistant, introduced to me as Johnny. The moniker is the only masculine attribute, for this Johnny has well-groomed shoulder length hair, wears make up and has no doubt spent time polishing his nails... fingers and toes. And though out of courtesy one is hesitant to stare, if this Johnny has testicles, such are not easily discerned.

Yes, obediently waiting in complete nakedness, Johnny's only covering, if it can be so termed, is a seamless steel neck collar. How it was initially adorned brings question. For it will surely not slip off.

"In reading your wife's letter there is much to do, Mr. Peters. You've agreed to a cuckold relationship, but it seems you're not ready."

The imposing form of Marsha Martin stands over me, waving my wife's missive. I have not read it, delivered by me sealed, only to be opened by the woman in charge. But I have a good inkling as to the contents. It lists my shortcomings, explaining that after agreeing to let my wife date other men, I find reservation concerning details not discussed before entering the arrangement.

Shame on me.

"So let's go through the protocol. Sunday is my day off. No clients. And with my husband playing golf, I have much time to myself. So with your wife being an old friend, I'll counsel you, though most of your time will be with Johnny."

What? Time spent with a naked hermaphrodite? Marsha Martin notes my look of shocked dismay.

"He's very good, very considerate. He's trained... tending to... well... women of assertiveness. He'll teach you to perform... to provide the required attention."

Marsha Martin steps to the side, an open hand gesturing that I should give her major domo full visual assessment... and I do.

Effeminate, golden blonde locks, appearing almost prepubescent, Johnny smiles coquettishly in being the center of focus. I cannot help utilizing the opportunity to outright gawk at his pubes. There dangles the penis of a child... and definitely no testicles.

"Johnny does not speak, Mr. Peters... think it best I call you Andy. He was given to complain a bit, early in our relationship, particularly when I tucked away his balls. So I had him silenced... vocal cords sutured. But you'll find he communicates well with his hands... and other body parts."

The explanation comes with a soft laugh. Such cruelty, yet so mirthfully expounded.

"What... ah... what hap..."

"What happened to his little nuts?" her firm even voice interrupting my stammering. "Still there. I just pushed them back into the inguinal canals. Can't look girlish with male tidbits flopping about. A little painful at first, the tight confines bring a constant ache. But in having my Johnny on Androcur, the nuggets slowly shrink, the aching ceases and eventually their nice warm and snug hiding spot brings comfort. No more embarrassing male bits."

 

With that, my comparatively mammoth tutor steps to her slight charge, bends and lowers a hand. Johnny parts his legs in humble welcome. Then the palm glides beneath the tiny penis, fingers working to unfurl the remnants of maleness... the empty scrotal sac. She gently tugs, revealing a puff of thin pink skin. Johnny smiles, the controlling demeaning handling indeed welcomed. "Curious how this remains a bit of an erogenous zone, don't you think Andy?"

Strangely, I find myself nodding in agreement, though not having a clue.

"Now why not join Johnny and take off your clothes. I like the idea of having two naked nymphs puttering around the house... lots of pink and white skin for me. And boys of your ilk so much enjoy showing off..."

 

 

Chapter Two

 

This is bizarre! I sit in an oversized bathtub, filled with scented water and suds. Johnny sits facing me, chamois cloth in hand. Ms. Marsha Martin... to be called Miss Marsha... sits on a stool supervising. I am to be bathed... like a child.

"You know Andy, people think the role of a dominatrix is to make people... men mostly... do things they don't want to do. And actually it's quite the opposite. I offer opportunity... for them to do things that deep within the psyche desires yet which societal norms and customs bring deterrence. This leads to unhappiness... and that's unhealthy. So I... hmmm... offer counseling."

With the words, I am chagrined when Johnny's hands go beneath the suds and slip between my thighs. Envy? Or is there a true need for him to gently lave my scrotum? When a finger further lowers and hooks to find my rectum, I lurch. Being palpated there... by another male... under the exacting eyes of Miss Marsha... brings concern. Bare skin reddened with the heat of the bath, my blushing is veiled. Still Miss Marsha notes my reaction.

"Calm yourself Andy. You and Johnny will be getting to know each other very well. And I want you clean when traipsing about my house... particularly there."

She is well aware of Johnny's invading finger, the admonishment coming with a disarming smile... considering the circumstances.

"So let's talk about your Sundays. Arrive here at 8:00 a.m. You will disrobe for me in the entryway. I know there are windows and I don't care if the neighbors see you naked. They're... ah... aware of my... profession. If my husband has not yet departed for golf, you will politely offer greetings and curtsy. You will learn to be subordinate to all alpha males. Johnny will show you how. And when you're properly acclimated and conditioned to your role as cuckold, my husband may participate in your training. Though that will be a ways off. He's rather well endowed. Took Johnny many weeks to open for him and not gag."

The instructions disturb. But worse, Johnny's soapy finger glides further inward, deftly finding my prostate. He manipulates, smiling like a tempting young girl. Despite the relaxing warmth, I feel twinges, penis stirring. Still, commanded to sit still, hands remaining on my head, I dare not move.

"Johnny will direct. You'll bathe together each Sunday, just as you are now, and you're to be shaven... neck downward. Since you'll be in locked chastity, Johnny will have the key for release... both for cleaning the device and fellatio training. Other oral skills will come as well. In general you will learn subservience and obedience."

I am hard and getting harder. A knowing Miss Marsha detects my concern, Johnny's free hand reaching to tweak my right nipple as his practiced finger works my gland. Finally comes the command I most fear.

"Stand for me please, Andy. Let's see what Johnny's playfulness has wrought."

I slowly arise, shamed in having to expose myself... shamed in being so docile.

"Yes I see the problem, Andy. It's no wonder your wife seeks the company of men who are better endowed. Well, you'll be learning to show off for me... a form of consolation... and enjoying it. Deep within, you all do."

 

 

Chapter Three

 

I drive home deep in thought. The day was harrowing yet there is a strange sense of tranquility. I have not before bathed with a guy. Yet it was more like he bathed me, my homophobia making it difficult to return the soft caressing swabs of the chamois. Miss Marsha strongly suggested I will learn to overcome that... her words close to being a threat.

And to have a fully clothed woman so closely supervise! It... it... well... I cannot find the words to describe the combination of embarrassment, sensuousness... and thrill. Odd to use that word but yes, thrill.

In agreeing to this relationship, my wife free to date, I have received little attention from her... sexually. Thus the firm erection I displayed, despite the relaxing warm soapy water. Miss Marsha seemed to be pleased with it... and this brought me delight. Unwelcomed? I ask myself.

Why is it I enjoyed so performing for her?

After the bath, Johnny indeed shaved me and thereafter offered massage. For some reason I remained erect, the ordeal bringing continuing arousal. And more strangely, I became comfortable so displaying myself before the woman. And even Johnny's presence... another male... brought a degree of quiescence as I convinced myself that, sans testicles, he was really not of the same gender.

The day ended being subjected to a tape measure, Johnny circling ankles, wrists, neck and more distressingly the base of my scrotal sac as Miss Marsha duly recorded.

'I'll have some things you'll be wearing for me, Andy. It will help with your training.'

The visit ended on a more sobering note as Miss Marsha took me on a tour of what she described as her counseling room. It was a dungeon, and even though driving I again shudder in visually recalling all the equipment, implements and devices this 'sex counselor' has at her disposal.

'Fantasies, Andy. Some have such strong and misguided desires. And here such are addressed... restraining, poking, pushing, pulling, stretching, whipping, flogging, caning... limbs, hands, feet, appendages, every anatomical part. In here there is nothing that cannot be subjected to a woman's whim... a woman's control... assuming she has the resolve. And I do...'

A veiled threat I have no doubt. And the woman indeed has resolve, major domo Johnny's gonads not ever again to be seen.

Pulling into the driveway, I note my wife's car is gone and recall she has a date. Though it's Sunday night, she explained at breakfast that her latest conquest is extremely good looking and well endowed. Therefore popular and therefore difficult to date on Friday and Saturday nights. So it's Sunday night dinner, my credit card of course. And since the lad is a college student, prandial sex will either be at a hot sheet motel... again my credit card... or on the couch in my den... our den.