Letter from Topeka

LETTER FROM TOPEKA

Dear Shoeblossom:

I come home from work, pulling up in my BMW Z4 Roadster, and the paper boy greets me respectfully “Mr. Wegg, how are you?” I grin at him. Yes, Palmer Wegg is a hot shot in this thriving Midwestern city… and when I go in the house I am pleased to see my pretty wife Zenobia relaxing on the divan.

“Hello, Pom.” She greets me, smiling. “The kids are away for three days with my parents, and so we have a bit of alone time.” Zee smiles and my cock hardens in the chastity device, a plastic polycarbonate locking mechanism.

Zee is ash blonde and has an adorable pug nose, and looks like she’s twelve, if you don’t see the large generous double D breasts below her neck, or the long curvy legs that she keeps in seamed stockings and high heeled pumps much of the time.

“That’s wonderful” I gasp, smiling. “We haven’t had a lot of alone time, what with Scouts, and soccer and Mindy’s ballet recitals.” But then Zee points a long amber nail at the coffee table and, sadly  I can observe a thick wooden paddle,  a leather strop and two canes.

“I think you’re up for a discipline session, Palmer.” Zee says coldly, taking an appraisal of my dismay. “It’s been a good little while, and I’ve noticed a lack of respect….almost as if you were adjusting to my rule, instead of accepting it.”

I stammered. “But-but darling, I’ve not given you any reason for discipline, have I? I ‘ve kept up with the housework, and I baby sit so you can go out with your boyfriends. I even blew your bisexual lover Dirk when you asked me, even though I’m not gay, it’s disgusting, and he doesn’t bathe his private parts.”

I flung down my briefcase and looked at Zenobia resentfully.” I’ve tried so hard to be a good boy, and please you, honey. And I’ve not cum in 93 days!” Normally Zee lets me jerk off every 90 days, and of course on Christmas and my birthday, but she had not given me a “Squirtie date” at the ninety day mark. “Why do I need a discipline training session?”

“Because it’s a TRAINING session, Palmer.” Zee said, casually picking up the thick wooden paddle. “It’s for your own good. Certainly you’ve manipulated things lately so you’ve not gotten any punishment, but you always were an apple polisher,.

Zee laughs “I remember that from high school…my greaser friends used to rub your nose in the grass for having the right test answers and showing them up. No, you need a bit of training, and I insist that you take off your jacket, your pants and underpants—leave on your socks and shoes, you may be whipped in the back yard—and bend over the armchair of the couch.”

As I bitterly began taking down my trousers, speak of the devil, Dirk the lover walks in, holding yet another cane in his tanned hands. Zee smiles. “Dirk is here to help me out…when my little arms get tired of whipping you, he will take up the slack, won’t you darling? And you’ll learn what it’s like to be whipped by a MAN.”

I don’t know how long male submission has run in my family. When I was a teenager, my brothers Pearson and Pip, Jr. caught our father, the Kansas industrialist Pipkin Wegg dressing up as “Pippi” and going out on the town in the streets of Wichita, and trying to get drunk men to use and abuse him in his role as a  blowzy blonde transvestite.

Should I have been surprised? With a wife like my mother, of course Dad was a bit kinky. Mother was one vicious martinet, let me tell you!

It’s true. I was raised by a dominant mother…and that’s probably part of why I became a submissive. When I’ve read the other letters of unfortunate subs who were raised by psychotic dommes….I identify. My brother Pip, Jr. was hung by the nipples every time he got less than a 97 on a geometry quiz.

When Mother decided PJ was spending too much time with his cheerleader girlfriend, she humiliated him by making PJ do a makeover session with little Cheryl…and when Cheryl realized that PJ knew more about dresses and makeup than she did, after years of being trained by Mother, she broke off with him immediately!

And PJ left home after his third year of high school…we have no idea what happened to him! He and my second brother, Philbin, who fled Mother’s rage after Phil failed out of hairdressing academy, are gone forever. Percival committed suicide after Mother made him dance in front of his fraternity at KU in white stockings with garters and white lace bra and panties.

My second  brother Putney, under Mother’s ministrations became so peculiar that now he is a scat queen in a cesspool bar in San Francisco. I don’t open Put’s mail….But Mother was focused on Pearson by then. Rubbing Tabasco sauce on his cock and balls to cure him of masturbation, Or even more dramatic measures. We all jerk our meat, but Pearson always got caught.

I remember Mother making Pearson step up to the Formica counter. We always had to wear plaid sweaters, and shirts and ties, unless we were getting ready for a sporting event. “Take out your penis, Pearson” Mother would order in her gravelly voice. She was quite beautiful, Mother—long red hair tied up in a bun, and full sturdy breasts…she wore these high-necked dresses, but you could still tell how beautiful she was—but she was strict and implacable.

Pearson would beg and cry, as our teenage girl cousins, in their cute little tube tops and shorts would giggle, watching. But Mother’s teeth would grit, and Pearson, on the verge of tears, would unzip his pants and pull out his long cock, and, kneeling on a stool, would lay it on the counter, blushing in humiliation.

“You see, Pearson?” Mother would smile as she pulled out the car oriel that she’d cut off Grandpa’s Studebaker just before they junked it. “Is it worth it, your incessant onanism? Now, Cousin Tammy, rub Pearson’s dickie a little, and give me a big target.”

And Tammy, the cute little ash blonde cousin, who lived a comparatively free life, not having to wear formal clothes (she dressed like a Daisy Duke slut) and no early curfew, who came to visit us just to have stories to humiliate us with at school…sexy, curvy Cousin Tammy would then reach over and run her long purple nails up and down Pearson’s cock, stroking the underside of his penis until it was quite large and pulsating, before she pulled away.

And then Mother would command Pearson to put his hands behind his back (“Must I tie them?”) as he begged and cried and pleaded, but then of course he would, and Mother would swing the car oriel repeatedly against Pearson’s dick whacking it again and again into the unforgiving Formica until it was small and bloody…before she’d then ask Tammy to stroke it hard again, so she could take another shot!

Mother could be cruel, but she did teach me self control. I now can hold my bowels for hours if need be, as well as my bladder. Mother used to punish me by making me conjugate Latin verbs for hours at my desk, wearing only a pair of over-sized plastic pants in the shape of a diaper. I would become very in need of a bathroom break, but Mother would forbid me to leave my desk until I had completed my task.

Sometimes the pee would drool out, as well as the poop, after I’d been working at the Latin task for more than four or five hours, and then Mother and Tammi would take me out in the back yard, strip me naked, and turn the hose on me, no matter what the weather was.

Mother also would put me on “bowel restriction” and lock me into a small metal cap around my cock, with a catheter inserted, and send me to school, after giving me a few glasses of iced tea. I would have to sit through the day, my kidneys aching, before rushing home to beg Mother to let me out of my catheter. Of course sometimes she would lock the front door and make me wait from three to six on the steps, holding my stomach and hoping I didn’t explode.

Mother also was very strict about chores. She would instruct me to mow the lawn and then cut around the edges, and she would inspect the work. If I missed one blade of grass, Mother would cut a switch, and, ordering me to strip, would whip me with a thorny rose branch until my screams alerted the neighborhood, and all the cute girls who lived down the block would come and watch me jumping around naked as Mother chased me with the switch, her breasts heaving in her print frock.

“Get him, Mrs. Wegg!” they’d scream, and I’d howl and run and finally fall, causing Mother to sit on my head and whip my bottom until it was purple and bruised and couldn’t sit down for a week!

I couldn’t complain, really. Father was usually locked in the hot attic, hanging by his balls from the rafters, huge Victor rat traps locked onto his tormented nipples…Pearson and Pipkin, Jr. would be in the basement being tormented by Cousin Tammi, sometimes having to bend over and grab their ankles while Tammi and her girlfriends threw darts at their bare butts!

So discipline was tight..and I learned to appreciate the little blessings…little as they were…

Mother also made Pearson and I sell magazine subscriptions for her church, and if we were lacking in our sales, she would cane our cocks in the front yard, as our hands were chained together, us back to back, stark naked while Mother whacked one cock and Tammy whacked the other, as we froze in the February weather, quite bitter in Kansas…

Cousin Tammy was quite beautiful, though…and later, after I was dressed and my tears dried, Tammy would kiss me and apologize for having to be so mean…”Cousin Pom, you know I love you…”

Zenobia, my darling wife is quite beautiful, and after long months in chastity I am almost out of my mind as she parades in front of me in demibra bikini underwear…her small but perfectly formed buttocks twitching in my face as I kneel miserably…her breasts bouncing merrily as she dances in my face!

How I cry when Zee rubs her breasts and taunts me with them, reminding me that I’ve not been allowed to touch them since the honeymoon, and how only real men, her sexy boyfriends get to kiss her smooth nipples, and titty-fuck her with their large cocks. “Your penis is like a hanging labia, Palmer…isn’t that too bad?”

But Tammi’s body was formidable, and she would also decorate her own peach breasts in frilly underwire bras, and sometimes she would tie me to the bed, remove my underwear and then dance in front of me, laughing nastily as my cock would grow.

As I lay there, bound and writhing, my hot adolescent body bouncing, Tammi would lean down and rub her pink orbs against my own narrow chest and then sometimes rub her nipples on my penis, which would harden into a baseball bat, it seemed…

Tammi would sometimes then lecture me solemnly for my bad wee- wee, and take one of her thick mules off, and beat my balls with the heel until I screamed!

Before dropping the shoe again… and kissing my tear stained face, and telling me she was my sweet baby, as she’d stroke my nipples, before of course, twisting them!

Other times Tammi would jerk my cock for hours, pulling back just as I was on the brink of cumming…she’d sometimes shove one of her pointed purple nails into my urethra until I was about to scream, though of course I didn’t want Mother to catch us!

Three hours into a teasing, my cock and balls would be quite a hue of blue, and Tammi would be laughing as she’d bunch her cleavage together with one hand as she stroked the pulsing, throbbing vein on the bottom of my engorged penis with the other.

“You are such a dork, Palmer. I can’t believe we are related. My boyfriend, Skezz Mulcahy, the head gangster in the Smoking area thinks you are such an honor society dork. He really loves punching your face in when you sneak by the Shop class on your way to choir practice. What a little faggot you are…and you’d do anything to get in my pants, wouldn’t you?”

And there she had me…my evil little cousin!

One of the worst situations that Tammi put me in, was when she invited me to a rainbow party. A rainbow party is when a group of teenagers get together, and the girls try on different lipsticks and then give the boys blowjobs. I had seen my cousin and her friends holding multicolored lipsticks at the cosmetics counter at Walgreens, and I was excited for attending this…after all, I was  a star athlete, and thought all the high school football stars would be there…and they were!

I’d heard from a friend that after one party he’d been at, (I had wanted to go, but Mother wouldn’t let me out that night) he’d had a rainbow of different lipstick marks on his penis, as seven different girls had gone down on him…what fun!

And Tammi ran interference with Mother so I could get out…but when I got to the party, Tammi and her friends Naomi, Rachel, Eden and Ruthie, put me in a ballet tutu and gave me a wig…and told me that I would be “Pernilla” for the night…they wanted my cocksucking skills!

It was true that Mother had taken my brothers and I to raise money for one of her charities, and had us suck off drunken transients in the public restrooms ($10 a blowjob) in a local park…But Mother had promised me she wouldn’t tell anyone that she’d done this…but Tammi smirked at me that night and apparently Mother had betrayed my confidence….

I did try to balk, and Tammi held me down while Ruthie whipped my ass with her mom’s broomstick and I don’t take pain well…then she ran the stick up my ass…and I submitted! And they sure painted me up!

I do have a pretty face, and the girls stuffed my top with breast forms and Kleenex, and when I went out, seeing my buddies on the football team…they didn’t recognize me, miraculously….and I left many rainbows on many penises…Oh, it was so disgusting!

Then the girls let a couple fellows fuck me in the ass, pulling up my tutu and having the boys pound their penises in! They made the boys wear condoms, and I don’t have AIDS today…I should be grateful, right?

Fortunately, I excelled in school, and got a full scholarship to Wichita State, choosing to live in the dorm, and didn’t see much of Mother and the fam after that.

And I tried to enjoy life as a no longer enslaved male! I’m a handsome guy, and was quite successful, business-wise. I had a number of adoring young honeys come my way…endless blowjobs and that kind of thing. Even the ones who didn’t like me that much would do whatever I wanted for a little white powder or a diamond bracelet…For a normal man it would have been wonderful!

But I really began to discover that I still had a submissive streak. One of my brothers was going to a domme house run by a family of girl cousins, the McLellans. Mistress Eternity, Mistress Amity, Mistress Destiny, there was a bunch of them…I visited one of the youngest, Lady Unity, who charged three hundred fifty dollars an hour.

Unity had short blonde hair, and peach shaped breasts that I usually only got to see as they were held within a halter top. “Submissive boys don’t get to see Unity naked very often…”Unity had a way of hissing at me, as she lashed my purpling balls with her cherrywood cane.

For a time, seeing Unity once a week was enough—I’d drop by her house on Tuesday nights, strip at the door, and I never knew what was up. One night she put a leather hood over my head and zipped me up, and then, after thrashing me with a blacksnake whip, Unity unzipped the front of the hood and I was forced to suck eleven different penises to orgasm, and some of them were African-American dongs, as I discovered kinky black hairs in my teeth the next day!

While I was fellating and slurping those big dicks, Unity was rubbing her cactus plant all over my cock and balls so they screamed with anguish, but I was able to hold off and separate myself from the pain, in order to bring Unity’s male friends to pleasure.

Afterwards, Unity took the hood off and allowed me to service her vagina for an hour, bringing her to a number of orgasms as she relived the tortures I’d been through. Unity was also a big one for the strap-on dildo, and hammered it home in my tender rectum till I screamed with the senses of one whose cheeks had been ripped apart!

After I’d been visiting Unity for eighteen months, she began requiring that I not release myself except in her presence. “I’m not saying you can’t date women” Unity said with a smile, “Just that you have to keep from having a messy when you’re with them. You certainly can give your date all the orgasms you like…trust me, Palmer, it will make you popular with the ladies!”

And indeed it did. Women loved it that I just didn’t want to cum in their mouth or their vaginas and roll over and go to sleep. Camille, one of the hotter women I was with commended me on my willingness to spend hours between her legs, using the tips and training regimens of a cunnilinguist that I’d learned from Mistress Unity. “You are such a generous guy, you sure you don’t want me to blow you?”

And I had to bite my tongue and say no! But now and then I would slip up, and Unity would notice when my penis wasn’t at its desperation point. Or sometimes she would call me, and have me masturbate myself without release for an hour as she teased and tormented me over the phone (at 4.00 per minute) and then I’d break down and squirt…and have to come in the next day for a vicious whipping and paying a $300 “fine” in addition to the cost of the session!

Eventually, I began reading of chastity belts, and asked Unity if she thought I should wear one. “It excites me, the idea that you’d be in charge of my orgasms, and then you’d know for sure I wasn’t cumming, Miss Unity.”

Unity giggled. “But then you couldn’t go on dates anymore. You wouldn’t want it known all over greater Topeka that you were locked in a cage down there, would you, Palmer?”

But it intrigued me, and finally we ordered one together, and she locked it on me, Unity did, and then laughed, sending me home. She then went out of town for two weeks, and  I learned what it was like not to be able to touch your dick for fifteen days in a town of Midwestern lovelies.

My secretary, who was overweight and not that appealing, became as a goddess to me, flirting, and giggling, and I began stopping jaws agape, to watch cheerleading practices and female runners.

And night after night, I would drop by the singles bars, and girls would offer to come home with me, and I’d sadly decline, going  home alone to rub my sad little locked cock against my waterbed.

One night the doorbell rang, and I opened it to find two young girls, one with curly red hair and the other a somber brunette. “I’m Mistress Humility and this is Mistress Infinity, we’re cousins with…” the curly haired one began

“With Unity, right?” I couldn’t believe it. The girls came in and told me that they had gotten an e-mail from Unity to check in on me and bathe me and my chastity device. Humility locked my hands behind my back and Infinity took off my chastity device, twitching her cute little rear to my dishwasher to put it in while Infinity began slowly bathing and shaving my quite rancid crotch area.

Then Humility whipped my bare behind for about twenty minutes with a thick wooden paddle, and then both girls took turns stroking my penis to the point of orgasm before abandoning it, and then locking me back in the belt.

That was my “break”…a week after that, Unity returned!

As Unity was giving me another masturbation session, that ended with no orgasm, she teased me about my decision to become a chaste male slave. “Do you think it’s worth it, Palmer?” I wasn’t sure…

But, when Unity offered to leave the belt off and terminate her services, I quickly said no, I would abide by any punishment of cum-free time she had to offer me.

And then Unity, dissatisfied with only controlling my orgasms, ordered a urethral plug for my penis! This device was a ring with a stainless steel ball that could be locked into the urethra, or the small slit in my penis that I peed from.

“Now, you can come to me twice a day to urinate, and if you must pee more than twice a day, I’m going to charge you!” Unity said with a smile. I ended up having to move out of my big, comfortable house and rent a small unit right across the street from Unity’s building.

Several times a day I would trot over to Unity’s house and one of the Mistresses would let me in, consult a pad to see how many visits I’d made that day, and charge me $50 for every visit over ten per week.

After whichever of the Mistresses unlocked me, allowing me to pee in a cup (and then drink it, which just filled me up again for future peeing) the Mistress in question would masturbate my penis until I was quite excited before locking the urethral plug in my penis and then putting on the chastity device.

I am a bit of a miser and sometimes I’d try to hold off for hours, almost killing my kidneys before running over to get myself unlocked to pee…but it did make me respect the Mistresses!

And then one night I went to my ten year high school reunion, and I looked across the room, and there was one of the older Mistress cousins, Mistress Eternity. Unity had given me the night off from the urethral knob and I was feeling relaxed, visiting the toilet without having to get permission felt like being on a roller coaster at Disneyland!

I approached Eternity and she grinned at me. “You didn’t recognize me when you were trotting in and out of the Dungeon all these times? I’m Zenobia Lintley, I was in your gym class and also shared driver’s ed with you…though I wasn’t smart enough to get in your academic classes…” And I remembered the tough girl in the leather jacket and short shorts…And Zenobia and I began dating, and she began domming me for “free”…and then we married! And it’s been seventeen years that I’ve had to ask HER permission to urinate, as well as to orgasm…and Shoeblossom, I’m a happy man!

Best

Palmer

Dear Palmer…

Hope your kidneys are as happy as you are!

Best,

Shoeblossom