The Constancia Compendium Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty One

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty One

  Chapter Thirty Two

  Chapter Thirty Three

  Chapter Thirty Four

  Chapter Thirty Five

  ­­The Constancia Compendium

  by Chris Bellows

  Featuring:

  Lady Constance, Lady Constance ©2001

  Constancia Island, A Femdom Novel ©2001

  Behavioral Modification: Lessons From Constancia Island ©2003

  ISBN: 978-1-939916-61-7

  A Pink Flamingo Ebook Publication

  Copyright © 2013 by Lizbeth Dusseau, All rights reserved

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, by any means, including mechanical, electronic, photocopying recording or otherwise without prior written permission of the publishers.

  For information contact:

  Pink Flamingo Publications

  www.pinkflamingo.com

  P.O. Box 632 Richland, MI 49083

  USA

  Cover Art © Appear – Shutterstock.com

  Email Comments: [email protected]

  Lady Constance

  To the male reader...,

  Somewhere out there, in the recesses of the mind, lurks a Lady Constance. She beckons with a confident smile, firm but comfortable cuffs, and a promise..., that toil and obedience will be rewarded. Rewarded solely with the opportunity to serve more and with the knowledge that soft, knowing hands may dab your away tears, sponge your sweat, or perhaps merely tighten your bonds.

  She waits deep in the mind’s imagination. A demanding figure who will extract all you have to offer, laugh, then spur your flanks for more.

  And you will perversely enjoy the endeavor...

  To the female reader...,

  Do it. It’s easier than you think.

  Having studied D/s relationships for many years in my capacity as a clinical psychologist, I found the relationship of Lady Constance and “boy” to be most noteworthy. Thus, with a sabbatical from the university long overdue, I spent many weeks interviewing those concerned with “boy’s” care and training. My efforts included a flight to Europe for additional background information. This draft is the result of organizing my notes for a paper to be submitted to the American Society of Behavior Modification.

  A preliminary interview with Lady Constance was arranged in her New York hotel room, a large, private suite specially maintained for Lady Constance and her cohorts. The name of the unusual establishment is kept confidential for reasons that will become evident to the reader.

  Chapter One

  Interview with Lady Constance

  January 4, 1998

  Notes: Lady Constance graciously agreed to be interviewed with few restrictions but requested precautions concerning the true identity of certain friends and employees. My comments/questions are in italics.

  Lady Constance sits in a large, stuffed, leather chair. A very dignified woman of some thirty years, her attire and demeanor are indicative of her extreme wealth. A descendant of one of Europe’s royal families, her late father reportedly revitalized the “old” wealth of his antecedents by eschewing ownership of vineyards and art work for timely investments in technology, biotech, and energy. Details are beyond the scope of this research, but it is said by those most knowledgeable that Lady Constance can buy and sell almost any one in Europe. As the reader will learn, her proclivities mandate a “low” profile. Therefore few in Europe are aware of the full extent of her resources and how she chooses to exercise the privileges of immeasurable wealth. And there are even fewer in the United States, where she visits from time to time with complete anonymity.

  A notable air of self-confidence emanates from Lady Constance. When she enters a room, all seem to silently turn to her in an unsolicited display of homage. It is difficult to portray in writing what attracts such admiration, but her facial features are symmetrical and proportional. Her shoulder length, raven hair is always perfectly coifed and any jewelry worn is elegant but understated. As one noted gemologist informed me, there’s not a stone she wears that a museum or collector would not proudly exhibit in a well-secured display case.

  Those who have accompanied her on lengthy annual soirees to the Caribbean report that in bathing attire, Lady Constance is the envy of every woman and an object of lust for every man. Apparently not pre-occupied with achieving the gaunt look of a fashion model, Lady Constance is not Rubenesque either. And as I glance at her calves and the lower portion of her thighs, the firm texture of the tanned flesh hint at underlying muscles which are most likely subjected to a daily and exhaustive exercise routine. The sculpted shapes of her arms confirm this conjecture and cause me to reflect on the rumors of her martial arts skills. As I scan Lady Constance’s physique, newspaper accounts of a broken limb attained by an alleged purse-snatcher of questionable agility come to mind. The story goes that Lady Constance reacted quickly to the clumsy attempt and was reportedly not hurt in the incident. But I again ponder the curious follow up stories of the perpetrator’s disappearance after bond money from unknown sources was mysteriously posted with the French court. No concluding details were published, as the sensational death of Princess Diane began to dominate the news. And to my knowledge the incompetent thief never was found to stand trial. But alas, that’s another story.

  I sit at a nearby desk with pen and notepad. “Boy” is not present at the start. I ask Lady Constance for a chronology of her relationship with Boy.

  “Mother was a firm woman, as you can imagine. Early in life she wanted to introduce me to the delights of the domination of the male. I cannot recall the exact age, but one afternoon the chauffeur was summoned to bring the car around and we drove to a nearby clinic.

  “It was a rather imposing building, four stories high with straight, formidable lines of red brick. Built in the twenties I should guess, and I believe was designed as a sanitarium for the mentally ill.

&nbs
p; “Well, we were met at the main entrance by a regal woman of an age somewhat older than mother who, although treating my mother with deference, displayed quite an air of authority. She was the Director of the clinic and spent very little time with casual conversation. We were quickly invited inside and ushered into an elevator. It may have been my young age, but the three of us seemed to descend for quite some time, and I remembered wondering just how far under the earth the large elevator would take us.

  “When the grind of the motors ceased, a most interesting scene came to view. As the door slowly slid from left to right my eyes opened wide to the panorama of a large, well lit open room filled with completely naked males in their late teens, odd apparatus, tables of shiny, stainless steel and women in crisply starched, white uniforms.”

  “Was it your first glimpse of the naked male? And what was your reaction?”

  “Yes. I suppose it was. And you may be interested to learn I was quite curious. Mother admonished me not to be afraid, but as I recall I was far from it. The teenagers all had amazingly long penises. And I had an insatiable urge to get closer to look..., and that we did.

  “The Director spoke to Mother as we stepped from the elevator. I don’t recall all she said since my curiosity had me focusing on the long dangling strips of pink flesh. I suppose the initial exposure to the anatomical difference captures the attention of most girls, and I was indeed somewhat mesmerized. But I do remember some explanation offered by the Director that the teenagers were troublesome orphans from various countries sent to the clinic for special care.”

  Lady Constance laughs at this point in the interview.

  “‘Special care’..., a rather whimsical oxymoron. There was not a stitch of clothing to be found among the teens. They all wore thick, neck collars and had their arms secured in back of them, bent at the elbows so that their hands pointed upward where their wrists were attached to the collar. The only thing covering their flesh was a large number painted on the right buttock of each. ‘We don’t brand or tattoo here,’ I remember the Director explaining to Mother. ‘That option is left to the new owner.’

  “Well, for a girl my age it was an overwhelming scene as you can imagine. The uniformed women were each busy with one or two teens, examining, exercising, washing, feeding, and watering. Since the boys’ hands were cuffed there was not much they could do for themselves. And I distinctly recall watching one young male on a treadmill, his long penis flopping about as a very strong, black woman stood nearby supervising a rather vigorous, exercise routine.

  “The Director insouciantly stepped into the room and led us down an aisle splitting the middle of the equipment. The women in white smiled graciously, but I noticed the naked males did not seem to acknowledge our presence.

  “‘As you know, we have the trainees wear special contact lenses. Everything is blurred and out of focus to them except that certain silhouettes can be discerned at close distances. Keeps them docile and dependent on their trainers,’ the Director explained.”

  Lady Constance pauses and sips some water from a nearby glass. Her reminiscence causes a wry smile to appear.

  “I remember feeling something between my thighs at that point; a twinge and some moisture. I suppose it was a reaction Mother expected from a daughter with her genes. The arousal of a young, dominant female as she surveyed a room of completely helpless, male forms. All essentially blinded with hands bound, forced to submit to the will of the women in white. I was excited..., but too young to fully understand why.”

  “Interesting, Lady Constance. It was not merely the naked male flesh which aroused you?”

  “No. Of that I am certain. It was the interaction of the firm women with the naked males; so much happening in one large room. Watching the women work the young trainees, making them bend to their will. It was new. Different. A carnal cornucopia.

  “And Mother acted so naturally..., just displaying an occasional smile as she observed me zestfully absorbing it all. Yes, she knew and expected me to be enthusiastically curious, which I was.

  “We spent several minutes touring the room and watching each woman. The Director referred to them as ‘behavior specialists’, and I specifically recall how proud she was of their talents. There was one lad receiving an extensive enema, his bulging belly being carefully monitored by a smiling woman as he struggled with the pressure, another was undergoing depilation as the trainees were kept completely hairless below the neck collar, another was being trained to swallow a sizeable rubber phallus, a hideous thing with strings of rubber hanging from it. The Director explained it was designed to ingrain the control of the ‘gag reflex’ which the dangling rubber strings triggered when brushing the back of the throat. Another trainee, well secured with thighs widely spread, was undergoing bladder control, a ‘behavior specialist’ holding a beaker under his flaccid penis and signaling him to turn the flow of urine on and off with snaps of her fingers. I was amazed at the demands she put on the trainee and even Mother smiled as we watched the lad’s penis twitch and quiver with the various efforts to curtail the flow in midstream.

  “‘Total control. Our methods are firm but effective. The subjugants leaving here after our training are totally subservient to the will of the female,’ I recall the Director boasting with zeal. And Mother nodded in agreement.”

  “How many were there, Lady Constance?”

  “I suppose a dozen or more judging from the number of cages where the trainees were ‘penned’ at night. That was another element of control, which turned the moisture between my thighs into a river. There were large dog pens stacked up three high near the far wall. Large for a dog, you understand, rather cramped for a human. The cages were of steel wire some two feet high and two feet wide. A penned trainee was open to view from all sides. The front side facing the open room had slots where a food bowl could be pushed in and removed. In the rear, the pen opened for the trainees to enter and exit and presumably also provided access for the behavior specialists to monitor and control bodily functions.

  “The drains on the floor answered my unasked question about toilet visits. I learned on a subsequent visit to the clinic that boys had to earn a berth on the top row of cages. There the uncontrolled bladder of a fellow trainee did not result in a problem. The boys on the bottom row sometimes had long, wet nights.

  “When I pictured the naked, restrained trainees huddled into the cages at night, being fed from bowls slipped through narrow slots in the wire mesh, then obsequiously waiting the long hours to be freed for another day of training..., well, Doctor, that really set my imagination going. I think Mother noticed the damp spot on my slacks at that point.”

  Lady Constance again pauses. It is obvious the memory of the childhood visit to the clinic produces a pleasant reverie.

  “Well, the discussion continued between Mother and the Director, as I gazed about in rapt fascination. Mother explained her desire to acquire a companion for me; a thought to which the Director nodded.

  “‘Yes, Madame. I received your letter. But most of our trainees complete their training on consignment. That is where a client visits as you are so doing and makes a selection. Then we “polish” his training, conforming the subjugant to the proclivities of his new owner. You’ve probably noticed, for example, number 14 receiving extensive oral training. He’s been purchased by a gay, male couple, therefore certain skills must be imbued before he leaves.’

  “She was referring, of course, to the trainee being taught to control his gag reflex and accommodate the sizeable rubber phallus.

  “‘And that trainee on the treadmill will become a colt. He will leave here to undergo exhaustive pony training from a rather severe woman in New Zealand. He’ll arrive there in good physical condition but extremely docile and mentally prepared to wear the harness and receive her whip.’

  “The Director paused and Mother asked if there was a course of action which could provide what she termed as a ‘plaything’ for me.”

  “‘Constance is entering t
hat delicate age,’ Mother explained. ‘She’ll need to manifest her dominant tendencies, and I’d rather purchase a plaything for her now than later find she’s intimidating her male classmates.’

  “The Director nodded in agreement and settled into thought. I, in turn, was watching the interesting juxtaposition of a slight Asian woman working a rather large boy. He was kneeling on a stainless steel table, which had been adjusted to a height of two feet. She was instructing. He was listening and obediently reacting.

  “‘Thighs spread..., head back.’

  “The trainee immediately complied and his head slowly moved back and down until it rested on the table. It was a somewhat contortionist position since his hands and arms were secured under him and he had to arch his back awkwardly.

  “Such a sizeable male being totally controlled by the cute, little Asian women and placed in such an unnatural position,’ I thought to myself. I was fascinated with her control and the trainee’s unquestioning obedience. He patiently remained motionless resting on his knees, calves and I suppose the back of his head.

  “Of course, my gaze moved to his privates. What girl wouldn’t gawk given the opportunity, and as you can imagine my curiosity was well rewarded. Two large eggs rested on the steel table in a massive pile of pink flesh. His scrotum must have been enormous, and I wondered what the sac would look like when he stood.

  “And resting on top of the pile was another lengthy tube of skin which seemed to be the prerequisite attribute for admission to the clinic. Thinking back now, his flaccid penis must have been seven to eight inches, a rather precocious appendage. The Director noticed that my attention had been diverted and smiled.

  “‘Looks like number 23 will be standing for us.’

  “As the Director ushered us to the table, I noticed the number 23 corresponded to the digits painted on the boy’s right buttock.

  “‘It’s the final stage of training. Ejaculation control. Number 23 will be shipped out at the end of the week. He’ll become a rather exotic piece of furniture for the vacation home of a nice, lesbian couple,’ she explained.

  “As she spoke the Asian woman donned latex gloves. With the crisp sound of the snap of the rubber fingers, number 23’s penis seemed to twitch. This brought a knowing smile to the Asian woman’s face as she deftly pinched the head of the long, uncircumcised penis between her left thumb and forefinger. She looked at the Director who nodded back.