The Chris Bellows' Collection Read online

  Within a few moments, a modest spray of feminine essence hints at yet another successful excursion into the girl’s love canal. Chloe is an ejaculator. We both smile in satiation, and knowing that I have concurred with her scheme, she squeezes a ‘thank you’ more firmly than usual.

  I had been planning to insist on an occasional return visit from Willie, months ago putting him on notice by brazenly mailing the note and packet of pictures to his home. But Chloe has her heart set on more than mere party entertainment.

  “I guess it’s time to send Willie a note before he leaves town for the summer. I’ll need the photos.”

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  Willie

  Mentally, I am still recovering from my bizarre encounter with Officer Benson. After she rushed off, I placed my feet on the ground, well parted to keep my cheeks spread, and to stand slowly pushed upwards with my legs. The sizable trailer hitch eventually slid out, with much discomfort. But there I stood naked with wrists bound behind my back.

  Luckily, the edge of the rusted and pitted rear bumper served as a suitable file and over time I was able to grind away at the vinyl cable tie serving to cuff my wrists. Within a few minutes the thin tie broke and I was able to retrieve most of my clothing which had strewn about in sliding off the departing patrol car’s trunk. But one old shoe must have ended up well down the main road. It was not to be found.

  So back in the dorm, studying for my last exam, I finally begin to concentrate when one of the guys tosses a manila envelope on the bed.

  “Someone woman dropped this off downstairs, Willie.”

  College students don’t receive much personalized mail these days, with email and cell phones providing instant communication. So what could it be?

  I slit open the end and slide out the contents...a note with a glossy photo. Naturally my eyes fix on the photo first, and my hand begins to shake. It’s another detailed glossy from Miss Chloe’s pool party so many months before. Cropped to eliminate identifying faces except mine, it’s more pornographic than anything found on the Internet.

  As expected, the photograph is sordid and obviously selected to portray me in the most embarrassing light, offering the subtle message of ‘read the enclosed carefully, the sender is in earnest’.

  I tuck the photo in my desk drawer. Dorm guys can become nosey. Trembling hands shakily hold the note as I read.

  Dearest Pup Willie,

  As you well know, Chloe was infatuated with your performance at her birthday party. And there was every indication that you also enjoyed the event.

  So, we insist you make arrangements to spend the summer. Food and shelter will be provided and you’ll have the best of care. Monetary inducement is being arranged and I can explain when you stop by to see us. But the enclosed should provide the needed incentive. There are so many more photos we can share with you and your family. Postage to Chillicothe is most reasonable.

  Thursday at 6:00 p.m. See you then.

  Affectionately,

  Miss Lenore

  Blackmail. That’s the only word that comes to mind. But since my last exam is Thursday afternoon, Miss Lenore’s timing is quite serendipitous.

  I will stop by her house on the way back to Chillicothe.

  I try to study more but cannot concentrate. So I sleep and though wet dreams have long passed at age nineteen, I awake with a magnificent erection and find I have been frottaging the sheets in my sleep. Miss Lenore’s note stimulated thought about Miss Chloe. So petite yet so shapely, in my dream her smiling eyes watch as a firm hand strokes my phallus for her amusement.

  The recent encounter with Officer Benson has rekindled odd sentiments long put aside and forgotten. That twinge, occurring in the presence of women…but only certain types of women... mentally excites. It does not occur during casual dates.

  I do not understand myself.

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  Lenore

  “Willie, so nice of you to stop by.”

  The cute little guy humbly enters as I hold open the door. He just wordlessly nods, apparently gravitating to his speechless canine role of months before.

  “Sit...on a chair. I have exciting plans for you.”

  He’s apprehensive and he should be. Full understanding and realization of his proclivity does not readily come at his age. But at some point he will become enlightened and most thankful that we have not only uncovered it, but also spawned an environment for it to flourish.

  “Soda, water, anything to drink?”

  He shakes his head and seems disappointed. I surmise that he was expecting to see Chloe who, at my insistence, is at the gym exercising. I keep her trim.

  “Maybe you’d be feel better without clothing. You appeared quite comfortable in playing your role that way during your last visit.”

  He pauses in thought and then as expected rises to begin removing his clothes. Such ingrained obeisance. He knows I have him by the male reproductive organs. It’s going to be an interesting summer.

  I stand in silence letting his level of discomfort build. He squirms somewhat, then I point. He sits again in the chair where months ago I interviewed him for Chloe’s party. I sit opposite. Piled on the coffee table between are photographs of Willie’s canine performance.

  Since I have an aversion to the male beast, I consider Willie to be more dog than human, I waste no time getting to the gist of our meeting.

  To set the atmosphere I thumb through the pile, selecting the most sordid depictions and hold each one before my sullen denuded visitor.

  “Digital photography is a powerful medium, is it not, Willie? Cheap, fast, no puritanical oversight in developing images as with chemical photography, the Internet facilitating easy transmission...”

  I hold up one graphic that has been enlarged and cropped. It cleverly zooms on Beverly’s large hand as it encircles Willie’s erect shaft. With camera clicking at the bottom of a long stroke, the frenulum has been firmly slid down to deliciously maximize the exposure of the swollen and moist purple head. It is the essence of the priapic male beast at the apogee of arousal. Willie was seconds from ejaculating when the photo was captured.

  “Chloe’s thinking about posting these to a special website. Just think, you can refer prospective girl friends to a collection of these photos...preview Willie’s willie before accepting a date.”

  I laugh with the supposition. A disheartened Willie does not join in the humor.

  “Keep your knees spread while I talk,” I sharply command.

  I pick up a pre-addressed manila envelope from the table. 78 Oak Blossom Lane, Chillicothe, Ohio. He understands the implication and spreads to expose himself.

  “Or, you can spend the summer here and Chloe may reconsider. The pool is a nice setting. Chloe will water and feed you. You seem to enjoy being put on display. Judy can be available for special needs. And if you accept, I can arrange for very reasonable room and board for next semester ...”

  I curtail my thoughts when Willie’s head perks at the sound of Chloe’s name. I have attained his attention.

  “I’ll see Miss Chloe every day?” his feeble voice strains to enunciate.

  “Oh, yes, Willie. She thinks you’re quite the pet. You know she can’t have a real dog, and your improvisation was quite impressive. Keep in mind that we don’t have parties like that every day.”

  I pause, letting him visualize. He really has no choice in the matter. I will indeed both mail and have Chloe post the photos. It’s evil and nasty but males are to be controlled, or vanquished. Preferably he will deduce in his own mind the inexorability of the predicament in which he finds himself.

  “I’ll have to tell my folks something. They’ve been expecting me home for the summer.”

  That means yes! And being much more devious than my doggie friend, I have already concocted a wonderful fabrication for his cover story. From under the thick pile of photos I extract a brochure...attractive, colorful, exotic. I picked it up at the college registrar’s office. It detai
ls for impressionable students the college’s summer course in the Caribbean, ‘Marine Biology at Sea’. Bold letters suggest that learning in the sun and sand can be fun. I toss it to Willie.

  “This will serve to explain the deep tan you’ll develop and why you will rarely be available by telephone. I’ve highlighted the section which explains that students can register for the course without need for additional tuition charges. And Willie, it begins Monday. So you’ll have the weekend back home and then return here for the summer. No need to pack anything.”

  As I speak I detect movement is his pubic region. I’d so much like to learn what prompts such a reaction; the pictures...visions of renewed canine replication...the suggestive remarks concerning packing...thoughts of Chloe? Probably all. But it is to no avail. Willie has his cover story, his orders, and the tool shed has arrived and will be assembled tomorrow.

  I stand to indicate that the meeting is over. I really do not relish spending time with males, unless, of course, they are suitably arrayed to amuse.

  Willie arises and I embarrass him by staring at his semi-erect penis.

  “You may dress. Take the brochure. See you Sunday evening. Enter the kitchen door same as last time. Go to the utility room. Strip and I’ll join you to assist.”

  I bid him adieu. He dresses and departs dejected but somewhat sanguine in anticipating Chloe’s attention.

  And I too am satisfied with the arrangement. A happy Chloe results in unceasing cunnilingus. The girl’s tongue cannot be stopped when she mellows in the appropriate environment.

  Chapter Thirty

  Willie

  Another long and pensive drive to Ohio. Not completely without purpose however. My old Toyota is loaded with my belongings from my dorm room which need to be stored. So while stowing the contents I shall explain to Mom and Dad that the free ‘Marine Biology’ course is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. They will be disappointed, but over the past nine months have grown accustomed to my absence.

  The weekend passes doing family stuff. Meals. Small talk. I see old friends. By Sunday the folks are copasetic with my planned travels. Ms. Lenore’s subterfuge has worked.

  Though Ms. Lenore suggested that minimal packing would be needed, I take the time to load appropriate items back into the Toyota to complete the cover. Then I begin the long return to Pennsylvania. I ruminate and mollify any negative thoughts by thinking about Chloe. So pure, so sweet, I pretend her hand is once again controlling the chain connected to my leather collar. The thoughts make the miles go faster and temper the frustrating memory of sitting naked before Ms. Lenore while she so tartly dictated how I would be spending my summer months.

  I arrive as the sun’s descent approaches the horizon. As instructed I enter Ms. Lenore’s home through the rear of the house and find the utility room. There on the laundry table are the strange black rubber bindings I wore months before. There are legs and paws attached but no longer segments painted in white, the coloring apparently washing off with my brief swim in the frigid pool. The comical mask with snout and floppy ears is not to be seen. And there is no collar, instead a mesh of black leather straps.

  I am strangely disappointed, having teased my psyche with the fantasy of Chloe leading me about by the collar. But the shiny chain is present and rather than ponder that which I will not be controlling, I begin to disrobe.

  As I peel down my undershorts, Ms. Lenore enters.

  “Wallet and keys in here, Willie,” she succinctly commands. “Everything else in this.”

  A metal lock box is placed on the table along with a garbage bag. My clothing will symbolically disappear with the morning trash, my personal effects held under lock and key.

  “Arms first. You know how to present.”

  Yes I do, bending my right arm and pointing the elbow at the imposing Ms. Lenore, the first of the four bindings is slid over folded forearm and bicep. The zipper closes to tighten the stretchable latex to a comfortable squeeze. I begin to feel the twinge...the beginning of the process of arousal.

  Left arm next, then I kneel and raise my bent right leg and then my left.

  Ms. Lenore works in silence with much deliberation. When I begin to speak, to inquire about the ravishing Chloe, she callously slaps my balls, well exposed as I kneel with left leg lifted to my waist. As I lurch with the pain I also feel another twinge.

  “Doggie’s don’t talk,” I am harshly rebuked as she zips closed the last binding.

  Then I am to learn the utility of the mesh of leather straps.

  “A nipple halter,” Ms. Lenore explains. “Courtesy of our friend at the kennel. It seems that young and chaste pups develop very sensitive breasts. Something about the abundance of hormones. So it’s been suggested that this is a much more effective device for control than a collar.

  “Stay!”

  I obey and docilely remain on the bizarre elbow and knee extensions as a leather harness is carefully strapped about my torso. Clever strips of firm rubber, edges serrated with small, nasty metal teeth, are carefully aligned to encase each nipple. I feel slight tension about each mammary gland as Ms. Lenore works to adjust and buckle closed the harness around my chest.

  “Good boy,” she coos in the smooth voice women reserve for small children.

  Then the shiny chain leash is clipped to the harness at a point in the middle of my shoulder blades.

  “Come,” her inflection firm but using the same matronly voice.

  She then gives the leash the gentlest of tugs and I yelp with the incredible agony. The device is designed such that tension causes to close together the serrated edges encasing my nipples. I lurch with the intensity of the pain. Ms. Lenore smiles as she allows for slack, then tugs again to set afire my sensitive pink nubs.

  “You’re going to be a very obedient dog, don’t you think Willie?”

  With tension on the leash giving rise to indescribable suffering, I feverishly work arms and legs to follow Ms. Lenore’s lead.

  Yes, my is obeisance is assured.

  Chapter Thirty One

  Lenore

  We’ve decided to gradually acclimate Willie to his new surroundings. So as much as Chloe would like to welcome our canine companion and play, Willie will find his first night as our pet to be uneventful. But such is the life of a dog, waiting in boredom, hour after hour, for food, or play, or attention; perhaps an affectionate pat on the head.

  My clever housemate has strung a walker line along the side of the pool where the pool decking parallels a garden. In the far corner we assembled the tool shed where Willie will seek shelter on cool evenings and rainy days. So though anticlimactic, I lead Willie to the line which is suspended just over my head and clip his leash. Then I playfully smack his buttocks.

  “Your little dog house is at the end of the line. There’s a bowl of water there and a blanket inside. You’ll be fed tomorrow and you should learn to eat heartily. There will be only one meal per day. Alpo to start, but if that doesn’t suffice we’ll switch brands until we find one you like. We won’t be completely disagreeable about this arrangement.”

  I laugh to myself with the thought that Willie will receive nothing but the best...the best dog food.

  “Miss Chloe will feed you in the morning. Miss Judy will tend to you later in the day. Be a good doggie for her.”

  And with that I leave. No more talk; no further interaction; nothing. Willie’s long summer begins. I am intentionally silent about bathroom needs and excretions. Housebreaking Willie will be part of the fun.

  Chapter Thirty Two

  Willie

  Miss Leonore departs and darkness arrives. Returning to the scene of my debaucherous canine subjugation months before brings a myriad of conflicting thoughts and memories; the humiliation; the indignity of being led about on a leash; having my testicles exposed and correctively slapped about; the embarrassing erection. But then the recollection of Miss Chloe comes to mind...her pulchritude, her gentle hand guiding me about, and then so cavalierly watching my ultimate
ignominy as Miss Beverly’s powerful hand so tantalizingly stroked my penis, and then the taunt to bestow the beautiful blonde with a birthday offering; the ecstatic release of sperm.

  And now here I am, but with no Miss Chloe; with nothing.

  I saunter on all fours to the little shed in the corner of the property. The overhead line causes my leash to vibrate which in turn serves to jar the cruel devices encapsulating my nipples. Thus each step is felt in the most sensitive of places with my nipples experiencing slight bites to remind of my bindings.

  I find the water bowl and lap at the water, succeeding at not getting much of the liquid into my mouth, but more splashed onto my bare skin. I want to shake myself the way a dog does, but it doesn’t come naturally. Then I enter the shed and using my teeth manage to arrange the musty old blanket to form a reasonable bed on which to lie.

  I carefully roll to my side and sleep. And of course I dream of Chloe.

  Chapter Thirty Three

  Chloe

  Monday’s a workday and I awake late. Lenore has arisen and gone; thus I must shower alone. I’d like to spend some time with the new pup but cannot. Perhaps this evening.

  But I must feed him and provide fresh water. I promised Lenore that Willie’s care would be my responsibility.

  So I dress, ready the coffee maker and while awaiting the eye opening brew, open a can of Alpo. I break up have a tablet of Cialis and mix it with the foul-smelling mush, along with a smidgeon of testosterone. Yes, it’s Lenore’s idea and I must agree that having the naked Willie striding about with a nice firm willie is most entertaining. And, of course, that’s why Willie is here...to entertain, to perform. And he can best do so by exposing himself in his most virile state.

  So mixed in with Willie’s daily ration will be just enough of the erectile dysfunction formula to keep his meaty uncircumcised penis ready to engorge at the slightest provocation. And of course a little testosterone can never hurt the male’s libido.