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"Jerry - The Comping of Age"
"Jerry - The Comping of Age"
A new novel
Published by Susan Strict
Default "Jerry - The Comping of Age"

“Jerry – The Coming of Age” is a new Femdom novel by an exciting new writer, Greg Cline, edited and published by Strict Publishing.

She had three submissive men at her command, but it was David who caused Jerry to look long and hard at her lifestyle. The problem was that she had deep feelings for him, whereas the other two were no more than regular houseboys. With the advice from her friend Giselle in Paris, she decided to administer severe punishment to David, to break him down so that she could rebuild his character as she wanted him. It was not that simple. Hurting him was causing her pain, and so when Giselle agreed to complete David’s punishments at her house of dominant women in Paris, Jerry readily agreed and David found himself at the mercy of some very different and very sadistic ladies…

“Kneel,” she said simply. The houseboy assumed the position for inspection of one’s work. That is, kneeling back on heels with apron covering ones privates, hands clasped in lap, head tilted back, eyes fixed on the Mistress. Jerry examined the candlestick in minute detail. Just then the phone rang.

“Get that.” Her boy quickly rose and answered the phone.

“It is Philip, Mistress.”

“Tell him to wait, and come back here.” The houseboy spoke quickly into the phone, and scurried back to his position leaving the phone on the side table. Jerry placed the candlestick back on the mantelpiece and walked over to her desk. Opening the drawer, she withdrew a pair of leather gloves, which she drew on slowly and carefully as she walked back to the kneeling houseboy.

“Turn,” she said, placing one hand under his chin. The houseboy obediently turned so as to be in a more convenient position for the totally undeserved face slapping he was about to receive. Jerry caressed the side of his face with her free hand.

“Smell my gloves, boy.” She offered him her gloved hand. He breathed the leather essence deep and it filled his world. He waited for the percussive slap. It never came.

“I am very satisfied with the brass work. Polish these gloves,” she said, stripping the gloves from her hands and dropping them at his feet.

“The leather polish is in the laundry. Make them shine. Make them shine so you can see your face in the palms. I am led to believe they sting more that way.”

Jerry walked towards the phone and picked it up. “So sorry to keep you waiting, Philip.” She was not sorry at all, well aware he had heard the whole exchange. A nice way of establishing the power base, she thought.

“That is quite all right, Madame.”

“I may require service, as you are aware I am at a loose end, so to speak.”

“I understand.”

“I require entertainment, nothing more. I am offering nothing. I desire nothing other than to be amused in any way I see fit. I may never call you again, or I may, as I feel inclined. I want to make that quite clear.”

“Of course, Madame, and you can be assured of my discretion.”

“Of course I can, Philip. You come recommended by Madame Garstang. However, I have selection criterion. I do not wish to waste an evening with an oaf.”

“I can assure you, Madame, you will be enchanted.”

“Enchanted, will I? God, you French can be full of it sometimes. Let’s get down to basics, shall we? Sell me your tongue. Tell me how good you are. Convince me to try it out, oh, and by the way, I am more enchanted when I cane before taking tongue. I hope that is within your capabilities.”

“Yes, Madame. Oh, god, you are so exciting.”

“Specifics, Philip. I am a sucker for a sales pitch. Convince me I should give your tongue a test drive.”

Philip then proceeded as only the French can, extolling the virtues of his technique, on and on. Jerry was amazed! Such talking. How hard she had to work to get a word out of David in comparison. But this was not sincere and she knew it, just a French whore trying to convince her to allow his face up her skirt. However, very enjoyable on that basis. When he asked her if she would like him to continue and extol his prowess with his penis, she advised him that would not be necessary as she would most probably not require the use of it.

“Very well, my French tart, be here at five o’clock sharp, and be aware that false advertising carries very heavy penalties here in Australia.”

Jerry understood very well the principles of keeping a houseboy, and the benefits. She was extremely happy with the arrangement. On balance, she would probably devote an hour of her day specifically to the houseboy. He would devote eight or nine hours to the maintenance of her household. That seemed to her a very good arrangement. She understood the needs of these men completely. They loved to serve, to do well and receive praise. They also loved to be humiliated and disciplined. She was cognizant of the fact that as she did not use them for sex, a great deal of sexual tension and frustration was created. While this in itself was a source of power, it had to be handled carefully and always made plain to both men that there was no possibility of them having any sexual contact with her. She owned them, body and soul, and did as she pleased with them.

She was well aware that she was their masturbation fantasy. A day in her service needed to provide enough inspiration for a fortnight’s wanking. Not only did she know this, but she made quite sure they knew it as well. She would quiz them from time to time as to their activities in this regard. It was her right to do so, and an important humiliation tool.

She made it quite clear that the fact she chose not to use their cock and balls sexually had no bearing on the fact that they were her property. For example, while she allowed them to masturbate at will when not in her presence, she required them to seek permission to have sex with their wives, or with any other woman for that matter. As a rule, Jerry did not feminize these men, as is so commonly the case with the male maid. However, sometimes, if the mood took her or if it suited her purpose, she would indulge herself. Her uniform of choice was a bow tie and a frilly pinafore rather than a traditional maid’s outfit.

She had never bothered to give them pet names such as ‘house slut’ or ‘kitchen bitch’. She merely referred to them both as ‘boy’. It was not from laziness or lack of imagination; she just found the idea that they were not significant enough to be given names a little titillating, and she was sure they did too. It was a great tone setter.

Jerry looked at her watch. Eleven am, time to send the boy shopping and to give him fifteen minutes of intensive attention just to keep him on his game.

“Boy,” she called. The house boy hurried to her side.

“Where are the gloves?”

“I will get them, Mistress.”

“Please do.”

The houseboy hurried back with the gloves, handed them to her respectfully, and waited. She examined the gloves carefully, taking her time, letting him wait.

“They will do,” she said at last, deciding a face slapping with the leather gloves was just too obvious.

“It is time to shop. Come,” she said, striding off up the hall. She opened the top drawer and selected a pair of red satin French knickers sent to her by Giselle. Not for her own wardrobe, but as a tool.

“You may wear these under your jeans while you shop, as a reward for a morning’s work well done,” she said, draping the knickers over his head. Taking a step back, she commanded, “Put them on.”

The houseboy complied.

“Let me see how they suit you. Turn around. Bend over. Stand up. Bend over again. Spread your legs.” With each movement, the slippery feeling of silk on flesh began to excite him.

“Kneel.” He instantly obeyed, leaning forward slightly and drawing his stomach in to hide his stiffening cock. Jerry moved in close, her skirt front touching the tip of his nose. She began to stoke his hair.

“They suit you well. Such a pretty little boy; do you like wearing woman’s panties, boy?”

“Yes, Mistress,” he sobbed. It was hopeless, the feel of the silk, her skirt front brushing his face. The knowledge that just two flimsy pieces of material beyond that lay heaven. Her smell filled his head. The blood raced through his veins and his cock strained against the red silk.

Then the moment came. She stood back and commanded him to rise.

“What’s this?” she demanded, pointing at his erection.

“I am sorry, Mistress. I can’t help it.”

“One must learn to help it, boy. You are well aware houseboys are not permitted erections in my presence unless I specifically desire and command it be so, are you not?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“I will deal with you now. Follow me, no part of your body above my knee height. You are in disgrace.”

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