Letter from Oswego

LETTER FROM OSWEGO

Dear Shoeblossom:

 

One nigh I attached Carter’s wrists to the ceiling hook in his basement, and separated his legs and locked them into a spreader bar. I whacked his cock to awaken it with my long cut rose switch…didn’t bother to cut off the thorns! 

And then I brought out a thin steel knitting needle.

“This little slit at the end of your cock is quite small, isn’t it?” I asked, trying to shove my long fingernail into the eye of his blind worm. I punctured and poor Carter moaned.

And then I took the knitting needle, which I had sterilized. “Your mommy left these in her parlor before she died, I found them, and have decided to use this needle to make you think a little bit, Carter.”

I shoved the sharp needle into Carter’s penile slit and pushed it into his cock slowly, and when I got it halfway through his hard penis, I stopped, and whacked the side of Carter’s cock, and he moaned, and tears came from his eyes.

I taped the end of the needle to the tip, and it was quite amusing to watch Carter walking around, his penis stretched out with an entire foot long piece of steel in there. When he got up the next morning to go to a business meeting, I saw the question in his eyes, and told him he had to take it with him.

“But what about when I need to pee?” Carter had asked, and I’d just laughed at him. When he came home that night, he was in tears. He couldn’t sit down all day, and his elonogated cock had bounced painfully against his right thigh, in his pants leg.

“Did it create any sympathy there, Carter, when you were foreclosing on some poor bastard’s mortgage?” I asked, cheerily. After all, compassion sometimes does come from suffering!

At one point I rubbed itching powder on Carter’s stretched cock, and then locked his hands behind his back and watched him dance, as the long cock with the needle sticking out from the urethra bounced painfully between his thighs!

I thought about it, and got him some tap shoes, and filmed it for the Internet…it was quite entertaining!

For a week I kept that knitting needle locked in Carter’s penis, and made him beg to have me remove it so he could urinate. I’d give him thirty seconds to void himself before pushing the knitting needle back in.

This was especially miserable for Carter at night, because I tied him in bed, and then he’d have to hold his urine, with the knitting needle blocking his urethra until the next morning. Some nights, after he’d had too much beer or iced tea, I’d find him in tears, and his bladder throbbing!

Carter would climb out of bed, tears streaming down his face, and get on his knees. “Please take the needle out, Petra, I have to pee so badly.”

And I would take the needle out, but then Carter would discover that I’d hidden the bathroom key! And, as he ran around frantically looking for it, his penis bloodily bobbing, I’d tell him “Warmer, colder…no you’re getting there!”

When he finally made it to the bathroom, Carter ended up peeing on the floor before getting to the toilet, and goodness, he learned that Mommie didn’t like that! I whipped him with a discarded fan belt until he screamed in acute pain!

I found that thrashing his cock was far more painful for him when the knitting needle was locked in there, but as you can imagine, I didn’t give a shit. Finally I took his Mommie’s knitting needle out permanently, and had him lick and suck it, shoving it deep down his throat. I have trained Carter to have a Deep throat mouth, and of course he licked the needle quite greedily till his disgusting juices were gone.

But I know the boy loves me!

Sometimes Carter cowers, naked on his knees as I whack his bare buttocks with the long, thick Spencer paddle. WHACK! Tears stream down Carter’s cheeks, and I bring the paddle down again. But he is trying ever so hard not to make any noise. He knows I am encouraging him to be a man, and not whine or cry.

Carter is on a hassock, on all fours (well, hands and knees, trying not to lose his balance) as I finish his discipline. He is an accomplished submissive in so many ways. I bring the Spencer paddle down again, and catch Carter’s balls this time. He shrieks. Good!

Carter has been visiting dommes since before I was born. Not only that, but he had two dominant wives as well. I have actually only been in the scene as a professional dominatrix for two and a half years, but Carter tells me I am coming along nicely.

“You’re cruel, Petra, in exactly the right ways.” Carter was so thrilled with his sessions with me that he offered me a sweet deal—to be his full time dominant.

It’s almost a joke, “training” Carter because of all his varied experience, having been an active sub since like, 1962. But I try! After the Spencer paddling, having slammed the multi-holed paddle fifty times on Carter’s cherry buttocks, I instruct him to kneel straight up on the hassock, putting his hands behind his back.

“Now I expect you to keep your hands on the small of your back. Grab one wrist with the other. Mommie isn’t going to be happy if her little boy jumps and grabs his wee-wee just because it’s a little teensy bit sore.”

I love referring to myself as “Mommie” though I was born several years after Carter’s fortieth birthday. It seems to turn him on, as well. Carter’s mother must have been a doozy to have fucked his head up this badly. On the other hand, he’s a billionaire, and maybe being left all that cabbage makes up for a peculiar childhood.

As Carter kneels on the hassock, his hands anxiously caught behind his back, I run my long purple nails up and down his penile shaft until it stands straight out. Now he looks ridiculous, kneeling on a footstool with an erection, a rather small one, as I keep reminding him.

I swing the bamboo cane, stopping it just before hitting his hard cock, and he winces, the baby. “What’s that?” I ask severely, slapping Carter’s face. “Can’t even take a little swing with the cane, I didn’t even touch you, you little faggot.”

Carter looks down shamefacedly, a stray tear rolling down his right cheek. But his cock is even harder! I raise the cane again and this time bring it down HARD on Carter’s cock, and he bites his lip, and it bleeds a little! But he keeps his hands behind his back, and kneels, perfectly.

When we first began, a lash to the cock, to say nothing of a full cock caning, would cause Carter to fall to the floor, grabbing his dick and howling, despite his thirty years in the scene. But now he’s beginning to understand that self-control is mandatory in my house.

I swing the cane again, and it lands harshly on Carter’s cock, but he is biting his lip. On the other hand, tears are coursing down his face. And his lower lip is trembling. He’s trying so hard to be a little man, isn’t he?

“Oh, honey, Mommie is just trying to teach you to be more disciplined, you know that, right?” I ask soothingly, as I bring the cane down once more, right on the bright red spot where the cane last slashed.

Carter’s cock is faltering, so I run a nail across it again, and tickle the underside just a little bit. He has not been allowed to cum in some months, and my gentle ministrations cause him to inflate just a bit, and so I swing the cane again, landing hard, and Carter bursts into loud sobbing. What a disappointment!

“I’m (sob) sorry Miss Petra.” Carter says, blubbering miserably as his cock hangs low. “I-I didn’t, mean to be such a (sob) wimp.”

I shake my head understandingly. “Of course, but you know what this means, Carter, darling.” I try to look sympathetic, though I’m choking down giggles. “We discussed what happens when you cry and howl. Table time, dear.”

Carter looks at me in horror. “P-please no, please don’t—“ But I fold my arms over my considerable breasts, encased in tight Lycra, and bursting into fresh tears, Carter gets up off of the hassock and trudges to the table and lays his cock and balls on the table, pulling the cock back, so his scrotum is on full view.

“Now we’re going to learn manliness, darling.” I tell Carter. “You’re not going to be a little sissy anymore. Your real Mommie used to make fun of you because you cried at the doctor’s office when you got a shot…and I am trying to improve you for her memory.”

I lift the cane and bring it down hard, five times onto Carter’s scrotum, and he nearly passes out. I help awaken him a bit by throwing cold water on his face, and this wakes him up nicely.

The poor thing! Yesterday I had him in a lace bra and panty set and thigh high stockings, and I invited my friend LeMoyne over and taught Carter how to suck a dick nicely.

The last time I got Carter to suck cock, I rewarded him by letting him jack his legs over his head and jerk off into his own mouth, combining his cum with my masterly friends, but this time I didn’t even let Carter out of his chastity device, and I’d sent him to bed early, as soon as LeMoyne’s cum was down his throat!

I suppose Carter thought that was the worst that could happen, but tonight has been quite exciting for him. I pull Carter up by his ear, and he resumes his kneeling position on the hassock. He still must demonstrate to me that he can take a cock caning silently before we move on.

I finally give Carter ten shots to the cock with my bamboo and am rewarded by silence (but so many more delicious tears) and I let him get off, and we go to the bedroom. I tie Carter’s hands to the bedposts and begin stroking his cock and balls, rubbing soothing creams and lubricants into his penis and scrotum, telling him what a big, brave boy he is.

“I certainly hope you’ll be able to take twenty whacks to your Willy here tomorrow night…and perhaps thirty the next night” I love watching the terror in his eyes!

Carter is smart enough to know that he had better not cum just because I am stroking his penis. Orgasming without permission is a highly punishable offense. He is doing quite well though, biting his tongue and holding back even as he stares at my milky white cleavage above the bright red Lycra!

I rub, and then tickle, and then wave my boobs around. I take one out and show him the nipple. “Wouldn’t you like to suck this, Carter?” I ask seductively. “We’ve been living together for nine months now. I know you stare  at my titties all the time. But you know you’ll never get to kiss my nipple, because you’re not a man…just a bitchy little wimpy boy.”

Carter nods, tears filling his eyes. He used to tutor girls in Math and Science when he was in high school and college, and they would hug him and tell him how clever he was, but then they’d go to be fucked by the strong leathernecks in the Shop Class, and the jocks on the football team…and Carter is just a sissy-fag!

Carter tries so hard to be manly. He is quite a figure, classically handsome and certainly full of white male self-confidence. He was born rich, and then made a bunch more money, and he’s been on the front cover of Fortune magazine and all that good shit.

But I guess he needs to be reminded that he’s just a pitiful, insecure little twerp, and who better to do it than I? I remember when he first came to see me, he was a little put off by all my tattoos, I guess the other professional Mistresses he had visited were more put together, but my youthful energy cheered him up, and he was just obsessed with my tits and my ass.

One thing I loved doing with Carter was making him nurse and kiss my little rectum…pulling my panties down and showing him my twin globes drove the boy crazy at first, and he began scheduling appointments with me every day of the week!

Finally, he convinced me to leave the Big Apple and come to quiet upstate New York. Oswego is not much to look at, but quite often, I will leave Carter with LeMoyne or one of my other friends and go visit my girlfriends, and party down.

I grew up in Jersey, and got my first submissive clients from my sister, who called herself Mistress Phoenix. While my high school friends were babysitting or  waitressing at IHOP, I was tying Erno Carlucci, Morristown Comptroller, to his electric fence and turning it on and off.

Erno also needed lots of caning, and sometimes I would castigate him with a fake English accent.

Erno was the first one to teach me about chastity and teasing and denial. He had more of a primitive cock cage, called the Thimble…it locked on and Erno would have a difficult week as he waited for our time together.

This was especially rough for him, as he was one of those sleazeoids who went clubbing and hung out with Jersey girl bimbos, like on the “Jersey Shore” program, and people were always offering him bimbos and hookers in exchange for city services.

Once a week Erno would come in, and I’d first strip him and put him through his paces, caning, nipple torture, that kind of thing, using my blacksnake three tail seven foot whip to cover his naked body with long red welts, weals and scars…Erno wouldn’t scream because I plugged his mouth with a bit of laundry soap!

“Who’s my little bitch? Dance, you little bitch!” I’d scream as the whip curled around his buttocks, back and thighs, and I’d laugh as he tried to run from me in my little apartment. Sometimes he’d fall over my laundry container, and I’d just whip his ass and flailing legs until my arm was tired!

Sometimes I’d tie Erno’s hands behind his head and make him stand bowlegged and throw darts at his butt and his nutsack. This was especially rewarding, for, even gagged, Erno would scream like a bull, his Italian masculine roar thundering through my tiny apartment!

Finally I’d cuff Erno’s hands and lie him down on the bed, removing his chastity device and putting  it in the dishwasher, and then slowly and lovingly I would wash his cock, which was quite dirty after seven days, and his balls…and I’d shave him clean, teasing him about how he looked like a little baby now.

And then I’d begin my tease…by this time I’d stripped down to demi bra and thong panties, and I’d rub my barely covered pussy on Erno’s hard cock, rub, rub rub…scratch, scratch…as the thong was a little studded, the scratch would drive poor Erno’s cock bananas as he would try in vain to rub his dick against my hot pussy and smooth thighs to get an orgasm!

At some point I’d back off and sit on his legs and begin stroking and pulling his raging erection, cooing to him as I did it “How’s this feel? You had a long week there, Erno? It’s been what, 83 days since I let you cum? I loved it after I locked you up last week after the long tease and you began crying, bitching and moaning about the fact that you have to stay locked up just a little bit longer.”

Then I’d just tickle the tip of his cock, and he would gasp, poor Erno. “Erno, you know Terzian Fallows, your opponent in the upcoming Council race? Well he’s one of my submissives, too…but last week when I had Terz tied up, I told him he was more of a man than you’ll ever be, since he’s not persecuting welfare mothers and gay people…and I sucked his dick for him…but you’ll never get that, you right-wing pig, you!”

Poor Erno, by this time his penis, covered in dark red veins, would be resembling the MX missile, and he certainly would be enraged at much of what I was saying. It would be such a kick, ticking the sides of his engorged cock with my long nails and laughing as he attempted to break free…but he couldn’t! You see, right before I became a dominatrix, I was a Girl Scout, and I learned the knot tying thing real good!

“I’m thinking of putting you in dark eye shadow, and pasting long acrylic nails on you, Erno, and making you wear pretty, frilly outfits. But of course I’d lace you up in a corset, so you’d have a nice figure, and then I might send you over to Terzian Fallows’s headquarters and instruct you to suck his dick…and I’d have lots of bright red lipstick on your fat Dago lips so you’d do just a great job, honey.”

“Your balls are getting so big, Erno. I know that’s because you have all this backed up scum, from not getting to cum for so long. It must be painful, but on the other hand, it helps you to focus on your work, persecuting women and minorities and being a general asshole, right? You know, I notice you never tell me that your wife complains about your chastity device, and I can only assume that she’s never seen it, because she doesn’t approach you for sex, because you’re just a fat disgusting bag of pus, right?”

Stroking and tickling Erno’s cock, I continued with this nonsense, making his dick harder and his eyebrows furrow in further rage. But of course that’s his dream, isn’t it? And Terzian Fallows, although a submissive, is also a powerful politician, and a BLACK man, and this of course drove Erno into lather…let me tell you!

Finally, after rubbing his dick for an hour or so, I’d ice him down and lock him up again, and send the poor boy on his way…it was a great way to grow up, as a girl from the wrong side of the tracks, little Petra!

Eventually, just before I graduated from high school, I transformed Erno into Ernestine, and got him to get his boobs augmented. And then I got his cock snipped off too. Unbelievably, this made Erno even more popular with the voting bloc. He became a Conservative Transsexual, and you wouldn’t believe how excited that made people!

. I also had a female submissive at that time, Mona,  a prison guard, who was quite bitchy until you got her alone in a room, and then, after I’d order her to unzip her tight jeans and bend her across my knees, whipping her round little butt with a thick wooden ruler.

I also loved tying Mona’s tits up and stringing her from the ceiling and leaving her to hang there until her bosoms were utterly purple!

By the time I split for New York at the age of seventeen, I pretty much had a good handle on what the whole femdom thing was about…not perfectly, but close to it!

Carter and I are going to be married next fall. He will be wearing a bow tie and shirt collar, but nothing else, and I will cane him as the minister asks us to tell our vows. Later on, in our honeymoon suite, I will brand my name on Carter’s asscheek, and he’ll scream, but it will be screaming for joy because he has a nice, loving dominant wife!

Best,

Petra Bernstein

Dear Petra,

The knitting needle punishment is a fascinating one. I polled my other correspondents, and Axel, who wrote “LETTER FROM COPENHAGEN” says that his wife has locked his penis with a thicker steel rod, and then makes Axel suck off her lover, called Bengt…and she only allows him to pee once a day!

Connie, who wrote “LETTER FROM TALLAHASSEE” told me that she uses pencils, shoving them in her son’s urethra. She says that way he always has a Number Two pencil for exams, and she doesn’t have to buy him a notecase!

Best, Shoeblossom.