Honeybee Book Club

By Thomas Z. Leyton.

As I wrote in my first posting a story the Small Dick Club so generously published as “What a Difference a Day Makes,” I was born a male. However, my widowed stepmother, Nancy, and my aunt, Teresa, always wanted a daughter. So, from infancy, they raised me as a girl. I was small in stature, fine-boned, fair complexion, and had proper training from infancy. I felt and passed as an attractive, educated, well-bred woman. Until my eighteenth birthday, I lived a comfortable, if not wholly, everyday life. On that day, my aunt seduced me and measured my dick. I still remember her exact words, “Sweetie, you have a small, almost tiny dick, but that’s okay. It’s a beautiful dick.”

She then locked my dick in a chastity cage. On that same day, I was trained to be an obedient and totally submissive slave for the Honey Bees Ladies Book Club.

Teresa and Nancy loved the Honey Bee Book Club. For the last two months, all I had heard from my mistresses were stories about the ladies of the Honey Bee Bookclub, especially Margaret. She was the matriarchal head and founder of the Honey Bees. She was one of the top horse trainers in the world and raised blue ribbon winning Great Danes. Margaret had outlived two husbands and owned multiple downtown buildings in Austin, Dallas, Fort Worth, Galveston, and Houston. But her real love was her dogs and 450,000-acre horse ranch in West Texas. She only came to Houston for club meetings.

Finally, training days were over. The club meeting was just minutes away from starting. However, I watched the preparations begin yesterday as workers installed a raised rotating platform and four cameras like I saw covering football games. They also set up four television monitors and six plush reclining seats.

Then this afternoon, they stood me on the raised rotating platform as they adjusted the lights, cameras, and monitors. Next, they lowered a circle of black drapes that completely enclosed me and adjusted several spotlights. Finally, they raised the drapes, leaving me spotlighted on the platform. Nancy and Teresa both clapped and yelled, that’s perfect.

I rested for several hours until it was time for Teresa to do my makeup, then Nancy dressed me. My one and seven-eighths inches long dick settled quite nicely into a black double-strand pearl thong, my balls nestling comfortably on each side of my dick. Silk stocking, 5 denier sheer, encased my smooth legs. On Thursday, I had a legs, underarms, ass, dick, and balls wax session. Next, I stepped into a side-slit black tuxedo skirt with a matching silk halter tuxedo shirt. Nancy added a wide black BDSM collar with a gold ring in the center that forced me to keep my chin up, but I liked that it forced me to have a confident straight posture. Finally, to complete my formal wear for serving cocktails, I slipped into a pair of black patent leather stilettos with six-inch heels.

Now it was time. I checked the clock in the dressing room, 5:59 pm—one minute until I started serving cocktails to the Honey Bees. My stomach was queazy, and the metal tip of my stiletto heel was beating fast staccatos as my right leg shook uncontrollably. I was nervous, but I had practiced mixing their drinks so many times I could do it in my sleep.

At precisely 6 pm, I pushed the rolling liquor cart into the meeting room. Nancy had told me Margaret was petite, but that word didn’t do her justice. She was a tiny waif curled up like a cat. A cat wearing a caramel long sleeve silk blouse, denim jeans, and a pair of small cowboy leather boots. I recognized her handbag, a Balenziaga and on her wrist was a Michelle Deco diamond watch. I had drooled over those same items at the Neiman Marcus store at the Galleria. She was wearing over twenty-thousand dollars of clothing and accessories with no makeup and a brush-cut hairstyle. She looked like she would be most comfortable in a saddle on her ranch. Still, Margaret owned the style like she would be comfortable anywhere, anytime, and in any social gathering.

Margaret’s emerald green eyes watched me pour two ounces of Buffalo Trace Kentucky Straight Bourbon into a Luxu hand-blown, straight-side crystal whiskey glass. Next, I added two Demerara sugar cubes and gently muddled with a wooden muddler, and added three drops of Eucalyptus bitters. Teresa had me practice my wrist twist until I was consistently dropping in three drops of bitters. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw her smile as I pierced two Peninsula Premium cocktail cherries with a Kuromoji Black Willow toothpick. I couldn’t help myself, and I returned her look with a quick smile of my own as I finished her Old Fashioned with a trimmed Bergamot orange peel. I started to feel a little more relaxed as I thought I had mixed her Old Fashioned as perfectly as any professional bartender.

Compared to Margaret’s drink, mixing the remainder of the drinks for the Honey Bees was easy. For Lois, a Sidecar, Alice wanted a Perfect Gibson, my favorite cocktail, and Manhattan for Jean. Teresa and Nancy were easy. I had been mixing Martini’s for Teresa and Cosmopolitans for Nancy for years. The other ladies were dressed in various sundresses and blouse-slack combos, expensive but more like what I expected young women to be wearing except for Jean. Jean was wearing a pair of old overalls and scuffed work boots. No designer clothes here. More likely, they came from a Wilco farm store aisle. The coveralls revealed a muscular and stocky figure.

As instructed, I silently served the drinks. They did nothing to acknowledge me, but I could feel their stares. When I finished serving their drinks, Nancy led me to the same dressing room behind the stage. Teresa undressed me, leaving the bondage collar. Gently pulling my hands forward, Nancy slipped a pair of black bondage mitts on them, then secured a black blindfold over my eyes. She followed immediately with a ball gag and buckled it behind me. To the ring in the bondage collar, she attached a four-piece gold chain. Two chains were branching off the center chain, and Nancy attached each chain to my nipple rings, leaving one hanging chain. She secured the remaining hanging chain to the piercing ring on the top of my dick. She then slapped my ass hard. I jumped, giving me an exciting sensation to my nipples and dick at the same time. Teresa next inserted a 2-inch ball in my mouth. With the ball gag, I couldn’t speak or even yell. I felt utterly helpless. I felt two pairs of hands applying lotion to my body. Next, I felt the platform beneath me start moving. When it stopped, I sensed I was in the central area. I could feel the heat from the spotlights. Then I heard an amplified, quiet and educated voice.

“Greeting fellow Honey Bees, when I started the book club three years ago, I wanted it to be remarkable. That is, I wanted more than a social club where we read a book, discussed it for a few minutes then gossiped. However, we were headed in that direction, so I asked you to read a different type of novel. I picked Marie’s Needle, a book of bondage and maypoles because after I read it, I realized we could have some fun arts and crafts time.

“Although, I had no idea how to make it happen until Teresa called me and told me about Angie. Angie is their submissive they have lovingly raised and trained since infancy. They have graciously offered Angie for our meeting tonight. You saw her earlier tonight when she served us our cocktails, and now here she is.”

I heard a collective gasp when the curtain went up.

“To the right of Angie, you will find a table with a variety of rope, bondage, and discipline accruements. Take a few minutes to look at the diagrams, enjoy your drinks, and then we can have some fun. Bring her to at full erections but no ejaculation. Edging to the point of precum gets extra points. It is bondage and discipline, so I want to see some punishment, too.”

Blindfolded and encased in a black curtain, all of my senses seemed to be focused on my straining hard dick and ears. I heard clothes softly landing and shoes hitting the floor with a more authoritative clunk—all competing with the pounding of my heart and the mummer and laughter of female voices. Finally, I felt and heard the curtain going up, followed by a collective gasp from the group.

In what seemed like seconds, I felt a hand pull on my chains that bounced my dick up and pulled my nipples down. Then, another pair of hands raised my arms over my head and tied my hands with rope. Finally, my legs were spread wide apart as I felt cold metal and rope tying my ankles.

I heard Margaret say, “Lois, take off Angie’s blindfold.”

The blindfold came off as I tried to look down, but the wide bondage collar kept me looking straight ahead and right into one of the television monitors. I watched Jean wrap my balls with thin rope and attach multiple lead weights, then swing my balls. My balls and dick bounced up and down and pulled on my tender nipples.

I couldn’t help but stare back at my image on the monitor. My red lips wrapped around the black ball in my mouth, arms, and bound hands pulled back over my head. Legs spread wide apart by a metal bar, and balls pulled down by weights. I could feel and see my dick being pulled down by my weighted balls and, at the same time, pulled up by the chain attached to my dick and my nipples. I was rock hard as my dick stood straight out.

I saw and felt lips surrounding the head of my dick.

“Look, Margaret, her tiny dick is rock hard. I see drops of precum on its so cute little mushroom head.” I saw and felt Alice’s lips surrounding the head of my dick. “Yummy, her precum is so sweet.”

I heard Teresa say, “Raise her hands a little higher so Angie will have to go up on her tiptoes.”

My arms and hands went up, forcing me to bend forward. I felt the platform rotate and stop giving Margaret a side view of my vulnerable bondage position. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Alice walk over to the array of paddles and crops. I noticed she wasn’t just picking them up and looking at them. No, she was caressing and fondling and rubbing them on her body.

“Margaret, can you believe it, a laminate paddle, maple, and walnut. So thin, so smooth, it’s the most beautiful paddle I’ve ever seen. Can I have it?”

To me, it was just a big wooden paddle. I’m sure Alice was going to use it on me. In her other hand, Alice was waving a black leather riding crop with a wooden handle. I could see her positioning herself as the Honey Bees starting to gather. At first, I thought they wanted to watch the show, and then I noticed they each had a paddle and crop. My god, they all wanted a piece of my ass.

Gently, almost with reverence, Alice laid her crop across my ass and yelled, “Jean, Nancy, Teresa bring your crops over here and arrange them next to mine. Look at her gorgeous ass as white as alabaster porcelain. Lois, please grab a photo of her. I love the visual play between our black crops and her white ass. Then after we whip her, let’s get another shot when her ass is red and white.”

I couldn’t take my eyes off the monitor as I watched in horror as Alice took a couple of practice golfer-type swings. Then, she planted her feet and started a big backswing.

“Stop! Stop! No crops this time; use paddles only,” Margaret yelled.

Alice dropped the crop, switch the paddle into her right hand, and then as swift as a lightning strike, I felt a stinging pain. I’m sure my eyes rolled back in my head. My body thrashed in pain but couldn’t escape the ropes. Again and again, she swung, then she stepped aside, and Jean started her swings, followed by Teresa, my sweet and loving aunt. She came at me from a running start and struck me so hard I bounced hard against my constraints. Nancy followed Teresa with machine gun-like strokes. But, my god, was that a cry of pleasure coming from my throat. Each strike with the paddles caused my nipples, rock-hard dick, and weighted balls to bounce deliciously. I was in vicious but enjoyable pain, so close to the edge in so many ways.

My ass was burning, and the ball gag was ripped from my mouth and replaced by a hot and dripping cunt. I licked and sucked until I heard a loud moan then I was tasting new cunt juices. I glanced at the monitor when I felt cold liquid running down my ass crack. Teresa was standing behind me wearing a leather strap-on dildo. I watch as she lubed up a monster dildo and shoved it into my ass. I was sucking and licking as fast and hard as I could. My tongue was probing labia and engorged clits and sucking assholes while my ass pushed back against the dildo filling me. Then I felt a warm mouth engulf my dick, and I exploded. It was Nancy, my stepmother, sucking and swallowing my cum.

Suddenly a loud crashing and melodic sound filled the room. Margaret had struck a large gong that I had not previously noticed. “Ladies, it’s time to stop. Release Angie and give her some water. We need to decide on our next book. Angie, when you are ready, please mix us another round of drinks.”

As I approached Margaret with the cocktail cart, Margaret was sprawled in her chair, naked, smiling and idly, fingering herself. “Angie, I know we caused you some pain, but I hope we didn’t hurt you. So tell me, are you okay?

“My ass is still on fire, but otherwise, I’m okay,” I said.

Yes, they caused me pain, but I wanted to feel that pain again and again. Especially the intense orgasm that followed the pain.

Margaret watched as I mixed her another Old Fashion. The first time, I was deliberate in making her drink out of fear. This time I was even more careful out of love and devotion. As I made the drink rounds to the other ladies, they kissed, fondled, stroked, and caressed me.

I was exhausted, satiated, and never been happier when Nancy clipped a leash on my collar and said, “It’s time to get dressed.”

I thought we were going home as Nancy led me back to the dressing room.

Instead of being dressed in my first outfit, Teresa fitted me with a headpiece consisting of blinders and styled with a massive horse mane. Next, she put a metal mouthpiece in my mouth with small rings attached to a set of reigns that hung down my back. Then I felt a giant butt plug slide into my ass. I turned my head as far as I could and saw a horse’s tail hanging out of my ass. Then Nancy put soft, feeling hoof-like boots on my feet and my hands. Next, Nancy pushed me down on all fours and attached a two-piece wooden board with a hole in the middle. She called it a humbler. She pulled my dick and balls through the opening then locked each side down, forcing me to settle into a walk on my hoofed feet and hands.

Suddenly, the lights went out, pitching the room into complete darkness. Seconds later, a spark and flames lit up candles on a giant cake, followed by the ladies singing happy birthday to Margaret.

I felt a sharp poke as Teresa used a riding crop to prod me along as my dick and balls swung behind me. The horsetail attached to the butt plug switched as my ass moved. Then, leading by my reins, Teresa walked me to a crying Margaret. I looked to my right and saw Nancy leading Jean, who was also dressed as a pony.

Nancy was speaking, “Margaret, we wanted to do something extraordinary for your birthday, but what do you get a woman worth billions? We were stumped until Jean came up with a great idea. Jean and her partner are into pony sex, and as a world-famous trainer of horses, we all thought, what fun for you to train a couple of human ponies. So here is Angie as a show pony and Jean as a draft horse. Jean even volunteered her partner as a draft horse so you can have a pair of match ponies for pulling a cart. We also learned of an enormous human pony show in New Orleans in December.”

“Oh my God, yes, yes! What great birthday gifts, thank you, thank you!. Let’s spend Christmas in New Orleans. Now, this is the book club I imagined,” Margaret said.


The End.


*This story has been edited to fix spelling, punctuation, & basic grammar, but the narrative and plot have remained the same. Just remember, even with the limited editing we do, it doesn’t mean any possible major flaws in this story were fixed.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Translate »

You cannot copy content of this page