Chaffernaught 01

Chapter 01: Chanel No. 5

The ride was long and scenery tolerable, but my conductor proved a fulfilling way to pass time! I was tired and now all I wanted was my pussieboy. I wanted to be cleaned, showered and pampered. As the train pulled into the station I could almost feel my pussieboy's nervous anticipation. I could hear his thoughts and feel his concerns... would he pass inspection, remember his lessons, and perform as expected? As far as he was concerned, no, he wouldn't. I wouldn't let him. I knew how to stoke my little boy's vilest perversions, and more than simply bask in the results. I planned being colder, crueler, and more demanding than I'd ever been before. I intended taking every opportunity to degrade and humiliate him in the most repulsive of ways. I would deny him every compliment, strip him of every privacy, and not let him cum. I've come to claim his body and mind as my property.

Waiting in my room for the conductor, I studied myself in the mirror carefully, a bit critically. God, that man almost wore me out bursa escort last night, almost. He wasn't difficult to nab and proved a welcome diversion. I ran my fingers through my hair, then gave my blouse a tug, adjusting it to my breasts, so they stood up, lifting the material properly. I smirked while moving them around behind the crisp white fabric, pinching my nipples enough to have them standing out brazenly, for my pussieboy of course. I know how important these are to my pussieboy. He worships them because they help make being my pussieboy worthwhile. I use my breasts sparingly, but effectively. My nails are freshly painted bright red, and I'm pleased with them. They make a startling contrast to the pale coloring of his skin, and his bloated blue balls. His cock would soon be dancing for them and to them, as usual. Another smirk crossed my lips thinking of the pleasures I would soon derive from my pussieboy in the days ahead.

The conductor knocked on the door and asked if I was ready. I took a final spritz of Chanel No. 5, knowing bursa escort it bothers my pussieboy, and put the bottle back in my purse before opening the door. The conductor, a handsome Nubian prince, nodded as I used one red nail and pointed to my luggage. Oh, he was so prim and proper today, all dressed in his spotless and pressed uniform, cap perfectly centered on his head. I've found it's easier to begin training a male in the early morning hours, using plenty of roughness, degradation and discipline. Males need to be tamed, and this wild cat had proven no different. I could tell by the way he acted this morning he now understood his place. I held my breasts up, as he held the door open and bowed his head. His animated crotch told me he was horny again already.

"Ma'am," he offered, hoping I saw his desire. In passing I reached down to allow my hand the opportunity of showing my affection for his organ. Through the material of his uniform I squeezed till his eyes closed, allowing him little time to ogle my breasts.

"Why, bursa eskort good morning," I returned in feigned innocence, releasing my grip to move on. I headed toward the exit, my newest acquisition in tow. I stepped from the train without scanning the large crowd. Pussieboy would know where to find me through this throng of humanity. The conductor set my bags down, and I extended my thanks by stepping close, pressing my body to his.

"Thank you," I whispered through a warm smile. "It was a pleasure traveling on your, ah, big train." He looked down into my eyes, and then to my breasts again, which I lifted to the occasion. I'm no longer amazed by the male, they're all so typical.

"The pleasure's been all mine, ma'am," he said licking his lips like the dog he is. By then I could sense my pussieboy was near, and my pulse quickened. The prince bowed, turned, and returned up and into the train. As I was studying his ass, I could smell the cologne I'd picked out for my joeie, my pussieboy, Pierre Cardin, Original. He dislikes perfumes or scents of any sort, but I do demand some things. He's become somewhat accustomed to my Chanel, and his bottled scent is an invisible collar, along with the bell I had him wear, as a sign of my dominance, and his complete submission.

Pussieboys take a lot of work.