EXTRACT FOR
Trapped Toy Boys
(Miranda Birch)

Turning to Pauline, she added, "I keep telling Susan she should get a slave-boy of her own." 



Susan tutt-tutted in mock disgust. "Bloody men! I can do without." 



Pauline smiled in sympathy. Susan had had a long and bitter divorce, and hadn't been with a man in ages. 



Mrs Farthingdale smiled too, and leaned over to pat Susan's hand. 



"Oh, men are fine really. Especially the younger ones, before they've been spoiled." Her eyes twinkled. "They just need a firm hand, that's all! Anyway, why don't we have a chat about it over coffee?" 



Just as I suspected, thought Susan. Mrs Farthingdale clearly did enjoy showing her slave-boy off! 



"Sounds lovely" she said, and Pauline added her assent. 



"Good! I'll have my darling boy make it." 



She pressed a button on a hand-set that lay on an occasional table next to her chair. From somewhere in the house, a distant chime could be heard. 



A few moments later, the door opened and a young man entered. It was same young man that she had seen earlier, Pauline could see -- and just as naked. He started as he entered the room -- clearly, he had been unaware that his owner had guests -- probably too busy in a remote part of the house to hear the door-bell. But he recovered quickly from the shock. He advanced to stand before Mrs Farthingdale, bowed low and said in a subdued voice, "You rang, Ma'am". He then assumed a posture of rigid attention, feet together, arms straight down by his sides, head up. He bit his lip; he seemed very nervous. 



"Yes, Bobbykins!" said Mrs Farthingdale loudly, with a beaming smile. It was like she was talking to a toddler, noted Pauline with wry amusement. 



"These ladies and I would like some coffee," Mrs Farthingdale continued. "Serve it in here, please." 



"Yes, Ma'am". 



'Bobbykins' bowed low once more, and was out the door. 



"O H ... M Y ... I ... W E L L ... !" exclaimed Pauline somewhat incoherently. She then got a serious fit of the giggles. 



Mrs Farthingdale smiled indulgently. 



"So, Pauline, now you know you weren't seeing things!" exclaimed Susan, and the two of them joined in Pauline's giggles. 



The ice broken, they chatted about Mrs Farthingdale's interest in female supremacy in general terms while waiting for their coffee. When the young man arrived with a fully-laden tray, there was a pause in the chat while he poured and served. He was about to leave when Mrs Farthingdale stopped him. 



"Come here, Bobby my pet, the girls want to hear all about you!" 



Docilely, the naked youth moved to stand beside her chair. Pauline noted with surprise that he once again he stood rigidly at attention, like a guardsman outside Buckingham Palace or something. Quite un-self- consciously, Mrs Farthingdale reached out a fat, heavily-beringed hand and squeezed the lad's left bum cheek. 



"Bobby here and I have been an item for ... oh, how long have you belonged to me, Bobbykins?" 



She looked up quizzically at the naked youth. Of course, she knew full well how long, but she loved hearing him say it. 



"I have been your property for a year now, Ma'am." 



Mrs Farthingdale gave a prim little smile, and then went on to explain things to her new friend. 



"To begin with, Bobby was my toy-boy," Mrs Farthingdale began. "After a while of 'dating', as they say, we decided it would be best if he moved in with me. After that, we decided it would be best if he gave up his college course for a bit, just so he could help me moving into this house. And, as you've just heard, this time last year we decided to live full-time as Mistress and slave. Didn't we, darling?" 



"Yes, Ma'am," slave Bobby said quietly. He hung his head. Clearly, the "we" in "we decided" was something of a euphemism!