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Captain's Log, Friday, March 13, 2004
Well, it's definite. Aunt Sybil is coming to visit! Pamela and Mr. Green must've got sick of my pouting, because I've been sent back to Mommy's to stay. I just don't understand it--Pamela and I have made arrangements to live together, and I'm paying her rent now, and I still live at Mommy's most nights--and now Aunt Sybil will be coming home! Mommy gave me an evil smile as she finished talking with Sybil on the phone. "Do you miss Aunt Sybil, Creamy?" she asked maliciously. "She kept you in line, didn't she? I told her how you think you're a big, tough investment banker fellow...and Aunt Sybil scolded me for discontinuing your daily enemas. But she was good at helping you with your exercises, do you remember that?"
Do I. Whenever the doctor saw me, Aunt Sybil and Mommy went over the report very carefully. At one time I was ten pounds overweight, and Aunt Sybil decided she was going to get me in shape, and it was actually thanks to her that I made it onto the football team, from being a flabby tired guy just a few years before. Modern day dieting experts warn of checking the scale daily...because your weight will fluctuate no matter what you do, sometimes you'll actually gain a pound after having dieted all day...but Aunt Sybil didn't care. Every day after school, she and Mommy would have me strip down and climb on the scale...Aunt Sybil's ridiculously ambitious goal for me was four pounds per week...if I hadn't at least lost two pounds by Wednesday, then she'd take me to the couch, and bend me over the arm rest, energetically flaying me with her western cowhide belt until I'd scream and weep in frustration and pain...
And God knows, I tried to diet, I lived for days on carrot sticks and water...those beatings were not mild! Aunt Sybil helped by awakening me early in the morning...sometimes she'd take me through calisthentics, and then have me jog behind her car, as she shouted out enthuisasm...when she was especially frustrated with me, it would be a bit more dramatic. Once she chased me around the block at 3 a.m. with Sabrina's crop from riding classes! We put a chin-up bar between the the walls of the door way in my room. Mommy took the door off long ago, she said I didn't need privacy,since I'd just use it to abuse myself. Sybil would have me do chin ups with my pants down around my ankles, and she'd begin hitting me right in the ass with her cowhide whenever I wasn't going fast enough--which was incredibly amusing to Sabrina and her friends.
Sabrina had been expelled from the Catholic school for a stupid prank--they told her she had to wear a bra, so she wore one on the outside of her shirt. After a few weeks in the public schools, Sabrina caused much too much trouble between warring boyfriends, and teachers, male and female who had enjoyed her favors. Finally she was sent to the town vocational school where she met juvenile delinquents as depraved as she was...and she began bringing them home to witness my debasement.
One of the most humiliating afternoons I suffered was one where I was doing stretching exercises...most people have done them--you get on your tip toes and stand straight up, with your hands out or behind you..and stay that way for as long as possible. Sabrina enjoyed watching me do this, and one day she had a couple of black gang members hanging out at our house...they all were in a hairdressing class or something. After I'd pushed myself up a couple of times, Sabrina came over to where I was exercising, and pulled my shorts down, and began playing her long fingers over my straining penis...as she rubbed further, I began to get excited, and lowered myself down to my heels, at which Sabrina stopped stroking!
Looking at my disappointed face, Sabrina shook a long nail at me. "If you want me to rub you, you'd better stay on your toes!" So I rose onto my toes again, as the gang guys began hooting and making cat calls...Sabrina rubbed longer and longer. I knew that if I stayed on my toes long enough, I'd end up cumming in her hands..she'd probably make me eat it after that, but it would still be worth it! Sabrinat tickled my cock,and moved the knob back and forth until I was panting heavily. "Look at the white boy puffin, Reggie!" All of a sudden a crushed beer can hit me in the head, and I fell back on my toes. Sabrina instantly stopped rubbng, but she turned to Reggie and his friend, and shook her finger"Now fellows, leave us to do this...isn't he in horrible shape? This will strengthen his stomach muscles."
But after ten more minutes of masturbation, my legs began to shake, and I went back down on my heels, and Sabrina stopped rubbing me...and then I went back up, and began standing again, and her glorious hands returned to my shaft...but then I felt a little exhausted, and my arches were in terrible pain...but I was so close to cumming! Suddenly, Sabrina pushed me and I fell back on my heels again. "That's not fair!" I protested..."Mother?" Sabrina called calmly "Creamy is yelling at me, and making racial epithets at my friends!" I can't tell you how Aunt Sybil behaved after that, but in the ensuing struggle to get away, with my shorts around my knees, I must've lost eight pounds worming over things...oooh what a memory, and she's coming back!
Captain's Log, Saturday, March 14, 2004
Tonight, Pamela and I went to a local, vaguely legal casino. She was wearing one of those shiny blue things that are supposed to be dresses..but it barely covered her boobs and went to just below her thighs. She had fishnets on, and was loaded for bear.
She spent a good deal of my money playing blackjack at various tables, and this was fun, I guess for her...but then she began flirting with young men,and one in particular apparently impressed her, so she began buying him chips with my Visa card. He was a terrible player, and lost quite a bit, but was cheery, considering Pamela had her arm around him, and was whispering sweet nothings in his ear.
After a time, she came to me and said "Creamy, why don't we take Mario home with us?" At this point I think I've given up arguing with her. Between her taking Mr. Green as a lover, her collusion with my mother to humiliate me, and the various other unkindnesses she's put me through, Pamela clearly is not interested in treating me like any sort of human being. The results of my Yahoo! poll were disappointing...most of the slave-boys think I should stay with this absurdity, but I just don't know.
In the car, I was driving up front, and they were necking in the back, but Mario tried to make some nervous conversation with me. "So you're her boyfriend, huh?" he asked nervously. "This is okay? An open marriage thing?" Pamela began laughing her ass off. "Open for me, Mario...Creamy couldn't get laid in a women's prison with a handful of pardons." Oh, did I feel humiliated.
The only time I felt worse driving was when Mommy caught me speeding in high school, and made me drive with out any pants or undies, to ensure I'd give no cop reason to stop me...
Back at the house, the guy kept looking at me nervously. Pamela had told him that I was her boyfriend, and I think he worried that I might get jealous; after all, Pam was stroking his cock through the jeans, and I was just sitting there watching them, and clenching my fists. And I was a good deal bigger than him...oh, but did she put me in my place.
I looked at Mario and gritted my teeth, and he quaked a bit...but Pamela was watching this with an amused eye...and she noted that I was tapping my fist in my right hand a little bit...I thought, foolishly that I could get the guy to leave on his own, and then I'd have a nice evening with my girl...but ho ho! No chance.
"What's wrong Mario? Are you weirded out by Creamy? He is awfully possessive, isn't he?" Pamela got up off the couch and sauntered over to me, her breasts jiggling in the tiny blue thing. "Honey, you really shouldn't be macho-ing around like that...come back with me into the bedroom.."
We went into the bedroom, where she had me strip and put on a woman's teddy and red polish on all twenty of my nails. Pamela had some of that bright blue eye shadow from the seventies, and I got that and rouge and heavy lipstick. Pamela topped it off with that ridiculous wig that Mommy has kept for me for years, and had me step into some high heels...and she pushed me back into the living room.
Now my head hung low, and I tottered on the heels. "Jesus, what the fuck'd you do to him, Pammy?" Mario was really surprised. He's one of these Jersey Italians, kind of like Christopher in the Sopranos..."He some kinda freak?"
Pam grinned. "No, I just wanted you to understand the nature of our relationsbip. I live with Creamy, and I think he'll be a great husband one day, but we're not--that way, you know?" My head hung lower, and a tear ran down my cheek, leaking mascara.
"See?" Pamela dragged down my panties. "His dick is in a piercing...he can't even cum...can't jerk off!" Mario looked at my groin in horror. The piercing, a Prince Albert, is rather shocking to the untutored eye, and my dick was bulging and purple just then, from several months of constant teasing and no release...it looked like a python about to jump.
Captain's Log, Monday, March 16, 2004
I am continuing the story now about Mario the club bum that Pamela picked up, though there have been some VERY DISTRESSING TIMES going on at the group...this business of Pamela posting unorthodox pics has been very bad...and she just gave me a blistering hairbrush spanking because "Schumi told me to" But, isn't Schumi a SUBMISSIVE? He tells you what to do...I'm disgusted. Schumi, just check out the "Sampix" file I put in there, about my adolescent humiliation! You can also see the pics of Sam herself...she is obviously insane.
Back to the other story:
Mario looked at me in my drag outfit unbeleivably... I was quivering. It just seems like whenever I try to get on top, Pamela brings me back to being a slave...the guy, who is about four inches shorter than I am, began swaggering around. "So you're a faggo, ain't you? Well, I'll take care of your girl here!" Pamela nudged me. "Say Yes, Master Mario" I shook my head. Pamela reached over to the table behind me and grabbed a thick wooden paddle, and used it on my ass about ten times. WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK...Finally I mumbled "Yes (sob) Master Mario..." My lip was trembling, more from the humiliation than anything else.
Pamela smiled at Mario and came up, putting her arms around his neck. "You're a tough guy, Mario...just ignore poor Creamy. He is having power issues." Mario looked at me and snorted "Looks like he's havin' lotsa issues, baby...a drag queen. How could you get yourself involved with a drag queen." But I'm not a drag queen, I wanted to scream. My hands were clutching into fists, and one of my bright red press-on nails fell on the floor. Mario stroked Pamela's soft blonde hair, and kissed her ear (Very inappropriate) and she put her arms around his neck and smiled at him. "Honey, you are what I've wanted for so long." she smiled. "I get sick of hanging out with girls, you know?" They both looked at me and sneered.
As upset as I was, my dick was beginning to attempt an erection...this was just too much. Did it have to be so obvious that I was excited by this trauma? Part of the trouble is, I've not cum in so long....all that backed up sperm is making it so I get erect at the sight of a watermelon What the helll is it, no one wants to give me an orgasm? Couldn't I just have the key to the piercing for what, ten minutes? I work hard...can't I cum? But Pamela is as heartless as Mommy or Ron ever were...my dick was moving about in the piercing and try as I mgiht to think about icebergs or baseball scores, and the erection did not, repeat, DID NOT, go away...
Pamela looked at my erection, and pretended to be frightened. "Oh, Mario...his dick is twitching in that pierce thing. He might try to rape me...will you kick it?" She looked imploringly at Mario and he swaggered up and kicked me right in my pierced dick, and I tripped over the heels and fell on my knees. Mario took off his belt and began hitting me with it "Get outa here, you perv! Get outa the house!" Alarmed, I looked up at him, and then at Pamela...She was smiling "get him out of here, Mario!"
Mario got in my face..."You little weirdo...how can you have a hard dick...you're threatening my new girlfriend." I gulped. "But she's my girlfriend...you are just a bar pick-up, you greasy---" That was it, he got me with an uppercut, and I fell to the ground, and then I arose, and he hit me in the face with the belt buckle... and then he kicked me. "I'm going to kill you, freak!" Mario hit me again and again, and I began scrambling out of the apartment. I swear before I left, I thought I saw Pamela stroking herself...
He chased me around with the belt until finally I ran out of the apartment and down the stairs, Mario chasing me. Finally I wound up outside. It was dark, but the bushes wouldn't quite cover me. Mario went back inside. I was quivering. I saw a cop come by, and I decided to get even with Mario...I came up to him and said "Officer, I am being persecuted by a lunatic in my fiancee's apartment. He was hitting me with a belt. I am a known banker and professional in this area." I got rather haughty. The cop looked at me up and down, and then I remembered the make-up, plus my bloody nose and lip from Mario's punches...and of course how I was dressed...
As soon as I
got into Mommy's house (I am thrown out of Pam's for bitching all the
time about the humiliation) Mommy took me by the ear and showed me
the e-mails she'd read. I don't know how she got my password, but she
did!
"You are filthy!" Mommy screamed. "Forty-two years old, and you are a
dirty old man! Do you know what that means? You can't handle being a
grown up, so you have to revert to being a little boy again!" I had
been staying up later and watching Law and Order, and Mommy had been
so busy with Greeny, that she didn't say much...and now it came to
this. "You know what this means" Mommy smiled. "It's time for the
Donald Duck suit." Oh, how I hate the Donald Duck suit.
I went to the closet and took out the blue sailor suit and sailor
beret that Mommy has been making me wear on and off since my teens.
She's enlarged it, and replaced torn parts, but it's essentially the
same suit. When I began going out with Barbara in my junior year of
college, Mommy got sick of me never being around to clean the
bathroom and stuff...so she made me answer the door for Barbara
wearing the Donald Duck sailor suit one night. "What's this?" Barbara
had asked, her lovely hazel eyes quite confused. "Blue shorts? What
the hell's that hat? Are we going to a costume party or something?"
Then Mommy came out of her room with an awful wooden paddle that was
cut and shaped like a hand with four fingers and a thumb..it was
called "The Loving Hand" and was it BIG. Mommy smiled at Barbara, who
of course was dressed in a college girl belly shirt and cut-offs
(well,we were at least both wearing shorts) Barbara had had questions
about why I couldn't see her at night, and why I had to run home
after class...I'd sneaked out a few times, but it had been extremely
difficult. Mommy now smiled at Barb. "How are you? I understand
you're Creamy's new friend..."She smiled, and looked over at
me. "Creamy you can go play with your new friend, but first I must
punish you...you didn't wash all my panties. Now I don't know whether
there's a picture of my mother in the files there, but she is a large-
boned blonde, with huge tits, and she was dressed in a snug leather
outfit...and high heeled boots. I think Barbara wondered whether she
was stoned.
"Mommy, please" I pleaded with her..."Let's discuss...you can punish
me later, honey." Mommy shook her head, and led me to the sofa. "No
no, sweet-ums...little boys forget why they're being punished if it's
not done immediately." Turning her head, Mommy smiled at
Barbara. "It'll just take a few minutes, dear. Why don't you get some
Kleenex over there? Creamy's a bit of a crybaby." I tried to pull
away, but Mommy had my belt in her long nails, and she unbuckled it,
grinning. "Please, please, Mommy...I really like this girl" A tear
trickled down my cheek. Damn it! Why do the tears come so much?
Mommy pulled my navy-blue shorts down over my high socks and saddle
shoes, and then began dragging down my tightie whities. "I know you
like her, baby...why else would you climb out of your window after
your seven-thirty"Mommy shouted this part, just so the stunned
Barbara could hear--"BEDTIME." Down came my white underpants, and I
was bent over the arm of the sofa, still protesting "Mommy, I'm
twenty-one years old.I can--I was back by ten--0W!" WHACK WHACK WHACK
WHACK WHACK WHACK
"Oh, honey...why are you such a bad boy..."Mommy said sadly,with
gritted teeth. WHACK WHACK WHACK I screamed and howled but the Loving
Hand kept falling, again and again. I could feel the fingers...(I
hope Pamela doesn't post a pic of the Hand, for God's sake) When the
whipping was over, I dropped to my knees and bawled, and Barbara
could see my dick sticking out, hard. What does one say to a 20 year
old college half-back and wrestling captain...who is wearing a boy's
sailor suit from 1925...and the pants are over the knees?
Barbara left almost immediately, but to her credit, the next day in
the Student Union, she talked to me, waving her arms. "Your mother is
sick! Why don't you get out of there! I really like you, Creamy...and
we could have a life together. You are kind and very masculine...when
you're not near your mom!" I sighed, and told Barbara I couldn't
leave Mommy yet...what a mistake that was! The next and last time
Barbara came by with two of her girlfriends, Mommy made me answer the
door in bonnet and diaper..but that's another story.
The whole point is, Mommy is taking out the sailor Donald Duck suit
to make me wear it again! It's just NOT FAIR!
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