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From: rgt@well.com (Estragon)
Subject: Estragon revised: "Travels With Aunt Paula," III/6  (femdom)



Travels With Aunt Paula  III/6 


(for adults only
copyright 1996, 1997 Estragon Productions)



"Never been the sport, 
Always been too smart,
And you know all our boys
Are really girls at heart...."


Not the smallest thing in Cal's small life escaped the lessons of that
day. The way he donned his clothes, how he felt once in them, the way he
shed them. The way he played when he was alone with his miniature
vehicles, or with other boys, mimicking the sounds of sirens and guns, the
gruffness of fearless men. In the midst of the most boisterous adventure
Cal would flag. A sadness fell for him like a concealing shadow over the
virile game. To his friends it was as though a companion invisible to them
had taken him aside. To Cal the vision was always near. He would see
himself on the white sheet, a woman delicately exhibiting his penis
between her gloved fingers, girls and women studying his pinioned
nakedness. He would feel the cold, the sickly wetness - antiseptic,
anesthesia, blood - his naked belly heaving against a young girl's hands,
the benumbed edge of the scalpel feeling deceitfully blunt against his
undervalued organ. As he propelled a tiny race-car or launched a tiny
rocket, as he made war-like noises in unison with other boys, a sense of
shame and imposture would betray him, draining his energy, stunting his
roar, wrenching him half-circle to show him the truth of his life in
slighted tears and shivering humiliation.

Cal had learned what he was. Such a lesson forms the prelude to desire.
Not to ordinary wishes, of course: except for his hope of pleasing Aunt
Paula, Cal had never wished for anything he was subjected to that day.
What boy wishes to have his nakedness made a spectacle for the amusement
of women and girls? What boy wishes to be held down on a table by them and
forced to show his fear, to cry and shake uncontrollably, and in the end
have a knife drawn by a woman across the organ that he alone in this
roomful of females possesses? 

Yet there was something in addition to horror and shame in these memories.
Even as he shuddered at them, Cal's penis would stiffen with unwelcome
pleasure. His mind might protest, but the hard-on persisted. And if he
gently stroked the margin of his extra-naked glans? Like a conditioned
reflex, the movement would cause him to picture Doctor Barbara with her
scalpel poised high above him - but Cal's penis would not retreat in fear;
on the contrary, a ripple of joy would pass through it and the muscle at
its base would twitch and strain, as though it were trying to meet the
doctor's knife half-way. 
Even before his wound had healed, women and girls began to catch Cal's
eye, in a way they hadn't earlier and don't normally do in the case of a
boy so young. Yet what he felt toward them was not ordinary lust, but a
deference just tinged with formless yearning. 

As for the women and girls who had been present that decisive day:
whenever Cal encountered even the youngest of them, he was aware, along
with the deference and shy desire, of a powerful but obscure sense of
obligation toward her. Would he owe all of these penis-less spectators a
life-long duty to keep the memory of what they'd shared alive, to
acknowledge in some way at every future meeting forever the force of what
they had done to him? It seemed an unfair expectation of a little boy with
so much life ahead, but any other view was worse than unfair: it had
simply become impossible. 

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 joined 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 humility 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,
the girls in jeans, not dresses, but more wretchedness, in a way, in this
hurried ordinariness. And, in any case, the same cold reduction to a
specimen of breakable manhood in 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 two or
three weeks after Cal's operation. Cal and his young mistresses might well
owe her the credit for inspiring Aunt Paula to institute her renowned
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 was
meticulously interested in 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 obliged. 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 Meganıs
hand toward Cal's penis, and with the gentlest of movements encouraged the
girl to touch it. Dutifully Megan ran two of her fingers along the rim of
the little boyıs glans. The gesture, at first automatic, startled her, but
she didn't pull away‹not until 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 his 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. They 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 make 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

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