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From: vickietern@aol.com (VickieTern)
Subject: RP Estragon's Aunt Paula 2/5 femdom
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A RP in deserved appreciation of the author, who is not the reposter (me).
Estragon vcan be reached through RGT@well.com (comment welcome, but no
requests for missing parts please).  His stories are all archived courtesy 
of Mule at http://www.tpe.com/ÿ7EMule


Travels with Aunt Paula by Estragon was originally posted in six parts, 
each with an epigraph.  I am preserving all of the original headnotes, 
but this reposting is in *five* parts, this one 2/5.













Surely Aunt Paula knew this. Wasn't the "grand idea" she came up with 
meant to help Cal realize and even exceed his duty toward the girls? It 
isn't easy to say when exactly she resolved upon the powerful new rule 
that was to make the sweet dominion of women the daily order of Cal's 
life. Cal was six: how much longer most of us have waited to taste the 
privilege of submission. But for Cal the ground was laid on the 
triumphant day he forced to join the legions of those with uncapped cocks.

Despite the distress she had felt that day at the sight of her nephew's 
terror and pain, Paula was convinced that she had been gloriously right 
about every aspect of his circumcision. It had made him arable ground. He 
had learned how sure-footed and festive women's power could be, and how 
pervasive. He had learned that women can hurt and women can humiliate 
profoundly, at hardly any cost to their own composure. By the end of the 
afternoon, Paula had regained her convictions. As a farewell gesture to 
her guests, she'd invited them all - "especially you girls" - to return 
in a few weeks - "just ring to make sure we're here" - to see how Cal's 
"new, extra-naked penis" was coming along. Cal could hear girls 
whispering, "Can I, mom? Can I come back?" and moms saying, "Of course, 
darling." Anyhow, Doctor Barbara had to drop in and check, and Paula 
thought it a good idea to have a few of Cal's schoolmates and a couple of 
older girls on hand for that. It wasn't as frightening as the operation 
itself, but, like a booster-shot, it raised the titer of humiliation in 
Cal's blood. Cal didn't dare ask why it had to be done this way. He knew he 
had no say in the matter. Girls all around, Cal disrobing in front of 
them, even having to lie on the table again and have two girls spread his 
legs while the doctor gave his penis a good, long look. No sheet this 
time, no masks or gloves, but more wretchedness, in a way, in this 
hurried ordinariness. And, in any case, the same cold reduction to a 
specimen of breakable manhood at the hands of beings whose bodies, 
unafflicted with penises and testes, made it impossible for them to 
comprehend, let alone regret, the relentlessness of the shame they were 
causing. 

>From this and the subsequent visits of girls invited to check in on Cal's 
progress, Aunt Paula in a short time turned his disrobing into a frequent 
drill and finally a hectic routine.  

Girls who had witnessed Cal's submission first hand because their moms 
were friends of Paula's passed the word along to their friends, who 
passed it down the girl-continuum to friends of theirs. There was a naked 
boy to be seen any time you liked - and not just seen, but played with. 
All you had to do was ask his aunt, who said it was good for him to be 
girls' slave. She had a rule, no matter what, if there were girls (or 
grown-up women) visiting, this boy had to go around naked in front of 
them. That was it, no exceptions. You could ignore him or go off with 
him. He'd just do it for you, take his clothes off while you watched and 
never make any trouble. He would kneel down in front of you, girls who 
had seen it said, just like a real slave, and there wasn't anything you 
couldn't do to him. You could ask him questions about his boy things and 
even touch them if you wanted. His aunt didn't mind at all, and nobody 
even knew whether he did. Nobody asked him. Nobody really cared. The 
girls who heard all this said it was incredible but they'd believe it 
when they saw it. Cal had many visitors. 

A certain eleven-year-old named Megan may have been the first, only a 
week or two after Cal's operation. Cal and his young mistresses might 
well owe her the credit for inspiring Aunt Paula to institute her fertile 
rule.

"This is Megan, Cal," Aunt Paula said one day. "You may not remember - 
you were rather preoccupied - but Megan was at your celebration." Cal did 
remember, invariably, as perhaps Aunt Paula really knew. He remembered, 
he was sure, each and every witness to his transformation. "Megan has 
been nice enough to come by and see how you're mending. Shall we surprise 
her, darling?"

Cal slowly undid his fly and reached inside to extricate his penis. "Cal, 
Cal, forgetful boy," Aunt Paula said. "Don't you remember how you 
were dressed that day? Megan has seen you with nothing on, darling. Don't 
you remember? I'm sure she wants to see you that way again. Don't you, my 
dear?"

Megan nodded uncertainly. But then, reflecting perhaps that Cal had been 
the only male she had ever seen naked in all her eleven years, accepted 
Aunt Paula's suggestion more enthusiastically. She would have preferred 
an older boy, no doubt, but with Cal the only show in town, why shouldn't 
she watch him squirm? "Yes, I do, thank you," she said firmly, "if you 
don't mind." Then added, insecure again, "And if Cal doesn't."

Cal couldn't have answered even if he'd been given the chance. Of course 
he minded - on the level of his wishes. But he also sensed, in a deeper 
place, that, if he went ahead and stripped, the memory of it would surely 
make him hard. In any case, Aunt Paula interposed.

"How could I mind, my dear? And as for Cal: whether he minds or not, the 
point is what's good for him. He's still a child, you know. Cal, Megan's 
waiting, really...."

So Cal disrobed. Paula looked on with satisfaction. Megan, more truly 
fascinated, tried to appear nonchalant. When the boy was fully naked 
before her she said nothing more than, "Hmmm...uh-huh. Yes, I see. Well, 
thanks." But Paula insisted on playing out the fiction that Megan's only 
interest was Cal's gratifying recovery. 

"Isn't it wonderful?" Aunt Paula said. "Completely healed. Barbara did a 
super job, don't you think? Just feel this...." But Megan, a tall girl 
for her age, had to stoop to reach the boy's penis. "On your toes, 
please, Cal," Aunt Paula said, and Cal obeyed at once. Such was the 
content of Paula and Megan's continuing review of Cal's recovery that it
would 
require him to stand high on his toes for the remainder of it. Now Paula 
drew the girl's hand to Cal's penis and ran two of her fingers along the 
rim of his glans. Megan was startled but didn't pull away; in fact, she 
continued the examination after Paula withdrew her own hand. Cal's penis 
showed that it was startled too.

 "What did I do?" Megan said, genuinely alarmed. "Is that...is that...you 
know...an erection?"

"A small one," Paula said. "Cal knows how to show us women respect, 
doesn't he? He's advanced for his age." She laughed, and Megan joined 
her, probably not knowing why. "But he still has a way to go, 
length-wise. He gets stiff, you know, but not long."

The girl pretended to know the score. "Yes, well....I mean, he's only 
six. But it is an erection...isn't it?"

"Don't be concerned, dear. I agree that it is. Anyhow," Paula continued, 
"this is one of the nicest circumcisions I'VE seen. What do you think?"

"It is," Megan said, managing as if absent-mindedly to wrap her fingers 
around Cal's shaft. "It's a very nice one." 

"Just feel that rim," Paula said. "It's called a corona, you know. That 
means a crown. It's funny, isn't it, Megan? We cut off his hood but we 
leave him a crown. But Cal's really is like a crown, don't you think? I 
mean, the smoothness, the glowing color. Barbara, I'm telling you...A 
terrific job. And she's a gynecologist! A waste! Just feel."

Megan obligingly ran her forefinger all around the rim of Cal's glans. He 
squirmed in his place. Paula again extolled the elegance of Barbara's 
work. She expressed satisfaction with Cal's total recovery. "Give him a 
squeeze," she suggested. "Perfectly normal, no sensitivity. I mean none 
that we don't want. Go. Squeeze."

Megan squeezed. Cal gasped, disconcerting her. "Don't worry, I think that 
was a thank you, dear," Paula said. Cal hoped she didn't ask him to 
confirm. Because in that case, despite himself, he'd have to. Cal felt, 
for a few seconds at least, that his heart no less than his penis was in 
this young girl's hand.

Aunt Paula not only knew what Cal needed to feel, she knew exactly what 
girls needed to see. She had vivid recollections of her own girlhood 
yearnings, and of her joy, after years of revery, when they were 
fulfilled. What girls enjoyed most, Aunt Paula knew, wasn't a boy's 
nakedness as such but the way it came about. It wasn't Cal's body they 
wanted to see so much as his humiliation. They love the sight of a boy 
stripping off his clothes merely because they've ordered him to. Of 
course, for a male humiliation does begin with the body. Under Aunt 
Paula's regime Cal got to do quite a lot of undressing. More often than 
not, he had little warning. He rarely knew who would be showing up, and 
even more rarely when. He might be playing in his room, lost in fantasy, 
and Aunt Paula would call to him, "Company, Cal." The boy would hurry to 
the living-room or to his aunt's studio, already planning out the 
strategy for a swift and not too ungainly public peeling. He was always 
trying to improve upon his manner once he was bare: unless Aunt Paula or 
one of the guests expressed their wishes explicitly, Cal never knew quite 
how to behave in their clothed and unruffled presence. 

Cal understood that he mustn't be forward in any way, mustn't make 
himself the center of attention, but this modesty was a requirement that 
a naked boy in the presence of fully-clothed women or girls had to find, 
as they say nowadays, "counter-intuitive." It was, for Cal, a strenuous 
exercise, though the effort would end up making him very modest indeed. 
Both Aunt Paula's instructions, and the behavior of most of the women and 
girls to whom Cal was obliged to exhibit himself, made it clear to him that 
(aside from a bit of natural curiosity about his unfamiliar body on the 
part of the younger girls) the real interest his audience had in seeing 
him disrobe lay in what the act signified, not in the less than thrilling 
sight of his male anatomy. 

Cal learned early that women are not mesmerized by a male's features and 
form. Such helpless fascination with the looks of the opposite sex is a 
peculiar attribute of males. Even before Cal had gained the mental 
equipment to understand more than a fraction of what she meant, Aunt 
Paula had drummed into him a simple adage: "Only a woman can have a 
beautiful body; but even a man can have a beautiful mind." It was, she 
explained, Cal's "mind" to please and serve, to hide nothing from ladies 
and to obey them at any cost to hi comfort or pride - it was all this 
that they loved to see, all this that they found beautiful in his 
nakedness. Ladies know, Aunt Paula would say, that it isn't easy for a boy 
to do such a thing. But that was part of their satisfaction in it. Cal 
had to understand this, Aunt Paula would say. He had to understand that 
there was nothing wrong in the shame he felt, as long as he made himself 
obey the rule despite it. 

If a boy simply loved to tear his clothes off, Aunt Paula said, if there 
were not humiliation in it for him, then most ladies and girls wouldn't 
give his nakedness the time of day. He'd just be another silly boy with a 
silly penis and testicles stuck between his legs. On the other hand, his 
aunt would say, if a boy had to be dragged kicking and screaming into 
submission over and over again, well, that wouldn't give ladies much 
delight either. For one thing, it would involve too much work. The point 
was to have the effect without the exertion, Aunt Paula would say. "The 
battle of the sexes is lost before it even begins," she would declare. 
"Ladies just happen to enjoy being reminded of this fact." It would be 
years before Cal understood his auntie's wit. 

Nonetheless, Paula got her point across. "Cal," she said one day when he 
was seven and her rule nearly a year old, "how do you think people get 
things done when they don't want to do them themselves?"

"They have other people do them, auntie."

"Good, Cal. And what do you call these other people?"

"Workers, I guess, auntie."

"But, Cal, workers are people who get paid for what they do. The make an 
agreement to do certain things only if the people they do them for also 
agree to pay them. Now, do boys make agreements with ladies and girls to 
undress and obey only IF, Cal?"

"I guess not, auntie."

"There's no 'only if,' is there, Cal?" Cal agreed that there wasn't. "So, 
now, what do you call a person who has to work for someone without any 
'if'? Who just has to, without being asked how he feels about it?"

"I guess you could say a prisoner, auntie,...or a slave."

"I love you, Cal. You're so smart." Before going on Paula invited Cal to 
accept a hug. "Yes, Cal. It isn't a pretty word, but it's accurate, isn't 
it? You are a slave, Cal, aren't you?"

Cal felt the infinite shame of the word, yet it was a feeling intense 
enough to thrill. "Yes, Aunt Paula, if you put it that way."

"No, no, darling. It's not the way Aunt Paula puts it. It's the way 
things are. The way they have to be, Cal, just because you were born a 
boy. Aunt Paula didn't make the rules. She's only looked for ways to make 
it easy for you to follow them. I know the word 'slave' scares you, Cal, 
but it's because I love you and want you to be happy in life that I think 
you should learn to pronounce it in a big man's voice. Cal, why don't you 
undress quickly right now?" Obedience was easy. When Cal was naked, Paula 
said, "I want you to kneel down in front of me, please, Cal." 

This was new, though Cal didn't know why he should be surprised. He 
looked around the room. He and his aunt were of course alone. Kneeling 
just followed from stripping, didn't it? It didn't even add much to the 
message. In any case, of course, it rarely entered Cal's head to rebel. 
He knelt before his aunt.

"You see, Cal," Paula said, "you are doing something that slaves do. You're 
naked, your penis is right there where Aunt Paula can see it. And she's 
just sitting back while you do everything. Are you Aunt Paula's slave, Cal?"

"I guess I am, auntie."

"Do you think that just because Aunt Paula loves you very much you can't 
be her slave?"

"I don't know, auntie. Maybe I think that."

"But that's a silly thing to think. You happen to be a very good slave, 
Cal. You do what Aunt Paula wants and she never needs to punish you. 
That's just what I'm trying to help you understand. We ladies, we don't 
see why we should have to chase after boys and struggle with them just to 
make slaves of them. What makes us happiest of all is to have boys 
struggle with themselves, knowing all along what we want of them. You're 
that kind of boy, Cal. Since your circumcision, Aunt Paula hasn't had to 
do anything more than give a command, and you've found a way to obey her. 
Oh, darling, I know how hard on you that day was. I know how hard on you 
lots of the things Aunt Paula asks you to do for her are. Of course Aunt 
Paula knows. Don't ever think, my darling, that I don't understand how 
much it takes out of a boy to be a lady's slave. Aunt Paula knows very 
well what a complicated person even a little boy can be, wanting things 
and not wanting them at the same time, loving to run free but needing to be 
a slave. I feel so sorry for you, my sweetheart. For all boys, and men. 
Wanting what you mustn't have, needing what you fear to want. My only 
wish is to give you what you need, Cal. And I keep thinking that if I can 
do that while you're still young, you won't grow up like lots of very sad 
men, afraid of the things you most desire. And what you need, Cal - not 
you alone, I mean, but every boy on earth - is to know that you're a 
slave. Do you understand at all, Cal?" 

"I think so, auntie. I have to be your slave...."

"And other ladies' too, and girls'...."

"Yes, other ladies' too....But I have to be and maybe I also want to be, 
but also I don't?"

"Part of you does and part doesn't. That's right. Because everybody, 
ladies and girls too, is made of two parts, Cal: the part that makes them 
a person, I mean, a human being, and the part that makes them a sex, a girl 
or a boy. Of course, you can't really be a person without a sex...are you 
following this, Cal?"

"Pretty much, auntie."

"But human beings have something in them that makes them not want to be 
slaves. It's a good thing, really, Cal, a noble thing. But, for a boy, it 
gets in the way of the other part of his nature, because that part of him 
knows that if you have a penis that gets erect for ladies and you have 
testicles any little girl can hurt, then that's a sign that you were 
meant to be the girls' and ladies' slave. So a boy is always going back 
and forth. If he were just a boy, just the sex-part, it wouldn't be a 
problem, because there'd be no difference between what he had to be and 
what he wanted. But as things stand, it's a big problem, one that will 
never go away completely. Believe me, Cal, no matter how many times 
ladies offer you the privilege of serving them, a part of you will still 
hate it when you have to undress and humble yourself. If that part of you 
somehow disappeared, you wouldn't be a humble boy-slave any more; you'd 
just be...I don't know...an old dish-rag."

Cal, kneeling, concentrating on following the winding road of his aunt's 
ideas, laughed at her sudden silliness. What a dear, beautiful woman she 
truly was. At that moment he felt little of the rebel within. Aunt Paula 
must have seen into him.

"Now tell me you're my slave, Cal. In a big, man's voice."

"I am your slave, Aunt Paula." Uttering the terrible word felt dangerous 
and thrilling.

"And the slave of any girl or lady who will be nice enough to accept me. 
Tell me, Cal."

"I am the slave of every girl and lady who will be nice enough to accept me."

"Cal," Aunt Paula said, "I must be doing something right, I do declare. 
Just look at your erection."


end of part three
 

"Travels With Aunt Paula," IV/6  (femdom)


(For adults only
Copyright 1996, Estragon Productions)



"I gave you pain. Do you appreciate
the miracle? To make it up out of
thin air, deep, free-fall space, the
gifted, driven atoms of remonstrance?"




That was then. 

In the course of four years, Cal learned extraordinary things about the 
desires of women - not those confided in the bedroom (for Paula always 
distinguished between the needs of a boy and those of an adult of either 
sex, and Cal had never seen either his beautiful aunt or any other female 
naked), but every other sort besides. All those mood-driven fancies and 
kinked velleities - the very things that most people attribute en masse 
to feminine inscrutability: for the small boy Cal each little whim of 
woman or girl became important evidence in his mental dossier concerning 
the eternal feminine. Nothing a human female might wish could ever appear 
frivolous to him. Cal's intelligence, bright to begin with, and burnished 
at those marathon symposia Aunt Paula called lessons, grew especially 
insightful where its object was a girl or woman's heart. Cal knew her 
will a moment before she uttered it. His mind glimpsed the scenario of 
his obedience. In the seconds before the feminine, high voice spoke its 
wishes, Cal would already hear it within. When her words finally came, it 
was as though his own dear wish was being granted.

Yet Cal led a boy's life too. His enslavement to the weaker sex was 
impossible to conceal, yet he didn't seem to most boys a weak sister. He 
was odd, maybe a bit unreliable, prey to spells of brooding and of sudden 
distaste for the very games he'd only just proposed, but he had a talent 
for boyish play that normally over-rode these reservations. His male 
friends grew accustomed to his rationed life. They understood that the 
female sex exerted an inexorable hold over Cal. Something frightening to 
see, but secretly enviable as well. They came to accept the 
inconsiderateness of women and girls where Cal's time was concerned. As 
when, visiting Cal at home, they were sent packing by his pretty aunt - 
yes, very pretty, you had to give her that - because it was time for some 
"lesson."

"You learning piano or something, Cal?"

"Not piano exactly."

"Okay...."

As when a pair of giggling teenage princesses dropped by to announce that 
they were just too logy to run down to the drug-store and pick up a box 
of tampons.

"You get to carry our TAMPONS, Cal."

"Which will go inside us, Cal. And you get to carry them."

Sometimes his friends even connived a little at Cal's humiliation - as 
when he was peremptorily summoned behind some shrubbery and commanded to 
drop his pants and kneel merely because a "new girl" hadn't believed the 
things she'd heard. When the shameful recess ended, Cal's friends 
politely resumed their play as though they'd noticed nothing.

Of course, being boys, Cal's friends were inconsistent. Circumspect one 
day, jeering the next. If a detail of fearless schoolgirls strode up in 
the middle of a particularly engrossing game and announced like the 
ballsy little cunts they were that Cal was done playing for the day, 
being needed "at home," his friends might voice their exasperation as 
they watched the willing captive march away - might call out taunts to 
his manhood. "Pussy-whipped. Quim-queered." But they'd laugh admiringly 
when he called back, "Ballsy cunts? Shows what you know." To one another 
they expressed the opinion that if Cal was enjoying the touch of girlish 
hands, even if he paid for the pleasure with that freaky deference of 
his, then this warranted a certain regard for their friend. Even from 
themselves, their envy grew to be a poorly kept secret. 


And now the ten-year-old, sensitive, seasoned servant, stood naked and 
attentive before his aunt on lesson-day.

"I like being kept busy, Aunt Paula," he said. "I mean, by you and all 
the ladies and girls...."

"I know that, Cal. Of course," Aunt Paula said. "But tell me something, 
sweetheart. When you undress in front of the girls and ladies and maybe 
kneel down and tell them you're their slave and let them do whatever they 
like to you - well, don't you sometimes still get the temptation to say 
no, just to disobey? I mean, we both know that there's something 
rebellious inside a boy, that every boy and man feels it sometimes, no 
matter how much the rest of him loves to serve ladies. If there weren't 
that bad-boy in all of you, we women wouldn't need these elaborate 
methods to keep you tractable.  Don't be afraid to admit it, Cal. We've 
spoken of it before, remember. It's what males are: we might not 
recognize you if you didn't have it, and th where would you be?"

"Oh, auntie, I swear I wouldn't ever disobey you, no matter what I felt. 
I swear it." Cal dropped to his knees though Paula hadn't asked him to.

"That's very sweet, daling. Of course I know what a good boy you are. But 
it's not because I doubt that I'm asking you these things. I just want 
you to give me the most honest and thoughtful answers you can." Cal made 
a heartfelt promise that he would.  "There's nothing to be afraid of," 
Aunt Paula said. "Aunt Paula isn't not scolding you, darling....Except, 
Cal, that you should do nothing you're not commanded to do. Not even 
kneel. So up you go."

Cal climbed back onto his feet. Even this most gentle rebuke had turned s 
cheeks red. "I'm sorry, ma'am," he said as though he had just coined the 
phrase himself.

"It was for the best, Cal, in a way," Aunt Paula said. "I mean, it kind 
of proves my point. Obeying before you're asked - when you think about 
it, that's kind of cocky, isn't it? You're a good boy, a wonderful, 
respectful, obedient boy who truly worships ladies. But a boy you remain 
- and we want you to, Cal, we want you to, don't misunderstand. We want a 
little mutiny now and then because otherwise we have nothing in you to 
train, nothing wild to conquer and turn back against you, over and over 
again, if necessary. Isn't that the most humiliating thing of all for a 
boy: to see how he changes sides and fights against himself? I'm sure - I 
almost hope, Cal - that every single time you obey Aunt Paula's golden 
rule, some part of you is saying, 'No, this time I won't. I'll just keep 
my clothes on. They're just females, what can they do about it?'"

Aunt Paula's speculation scared Cal. He was eager to protest. There was 
something in it. "It's true, darling, isn't it?" Aunt Paula said. "Be 
honest." Cal nodded and said, "But...."

"I know, sweetheart, I know. You may think it for a few seconds, but 
you'd never do it. It's just that thought is what it's about, Cal. It's 
what you give when you submit your body. It's why you have your body at all."

"Well, sometimes, auntie, I have the thought maybe that it's unfair, you 
know, that I take off my clothes and girls never do and I never get to 
see. I mean, I know that's the way it's supposed to be and most of the 
time I don't think about what girls have or anything like that. I just 
think about what I'm supposed to...about what ladies and girls DON'T 
have. But maybe sometimes, you know...."

"I do know, Cal. Don't be afraid. I do know very well. And Aunt Paula 
wants you to be honest and always tell her when you have such thoughts. 
But tell me this, sweetheart: when you do have them - and I know it's 
only once in a while, I know it's hardly ever - but when you do have 
them, what do you suppose stops you from giving in. I mean, why do you go 
ahead and undress anyway?"

"I guess I don't want you or the ladies to be mad."

"But you know I love you, Cal. Do you think anything could make me stop 
loving you and stop taking care of you? Even if you weren't as good a boy 
as you are? How mad do you really think Aunt Paula could get?"

"Not very, I guess, auntie. I don't know then...."

"Can I tell you what I think?"

"Tell me, auntie."

"I think that something else - I mean something that isn't just fear that 
we'll be mad - something about us ladies makes you feel you have to obey 
us. I mean, just as you have a part that wants to hide, you have another 
part that wants...well, let's be frank about it, Cal...that just wants to 
throw yourself at our feet and beg us to walk all over you. The part we 
were speaking of, weren't we? That secretly wants to feel the hurt down 
in those delicate ballies of yours. What do you think of this theory, Cal?"

"It sounds good to me, auntie. True, I mean. That is, it sounds true. I 
mean, yes, it IS true."

"Thanks for making that clear, Cal. But the question I have for you now 
is, what is that thing that makes you so helpless with us? If you really 
know that my theory is true, you should be able to answer this."

end rp2/5
Vickie Tern@AOL.COM

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