A Birthday for Spalding

A BIRTHDAY FOR SPALDING

“So you’re excited about your birthday?” Maisie Tyll asked as she stroked her brother’s cock. Spalding and Maisie had a nightly ritual—they’d watch TV together, and she’d tease Spal’s dick as he sat next to her, but just during commercials. Then, of course while they were watching “American Idol” and the commercial wasn’t on, he was totally focused on her putting her nasty little hand on his dick again.

Spalding was so out of it, man. His twenty-second birthday should have been a time of great celebration—you’re an adult, and all that good shit. But in his family, life was a little different. Spal had grown up watching his dad obeying Mom like a robot…and when he didn’t, like when she found out he was participating in a Fantasy Baseball League at work (there was no hope of going to games with his office mates) Mom thrashed Dad until he was howling like a stuck pig!

His twenty-five year old brother, Searcy was trapped in a crib with a top upstairs, in diapers, (Mother had caught him texting a girl she didn’t approve of ) and Potter, the oldest was locked in a chastity belt even though he was hot shit at Andrews Air Force Base in Washington, D.C.

Really…Pots had won the Bronze Star, the Service Medal and two Purple Hearts, but his greatest reward had been coming home to Mother, who’d allowed him to jerk off as soon as he’d stripped off his cammies…Mother’s hero boy!

Boswell, next oldest, lived with his dominant wife in Bethesda, Maryland, which was quite near the air force base, and Boz’s wife held the key for Potter’s chastity belt!

Perkins, Spal’s younger brother by a year was at Boy Scout Camp, but finding a way to bathe in a nearby creek so the other guys didn’t see HIS belt, and Treadway, the youngest son, was being punished by Mom for some youthful rebellion(He’d become a drummer in the local band “Methadone Maintenance” and inadvertently set fire to a hotel room) by having to wear dresses and work at Natasha’s Armoire, a teen girls clothing store at Buttermilk Falls Mall, three days a week.

Tread had to wear very heavy makeup and minidresses, and help girls he knew from school (who blessedly didn’t recognize him, and thought “she” went to school out of town) buy clothing. “Trianne” got to keep all the money “She” made from this part-time job, but looked wistfully across the mall floor at where the boys got to work at guy places like Radio Shack and the Sunglass Hut.

Tread’s worst day was when one of “her” male customers began stalking “her” and when the guy showed up at the house, Mother threatened “Trianne” with a cattle prod, and so Tread had to go out with the guy a couple of times and let him cum in “her” mouth and in “her” ass, keeping “her” panties on in front so the guy wouldn’t see “her” dick!

Mather, who was just graduating high school had also raised Mother’s ire, and she’d assigned him a “summer job” sucking off degenerates for ten-spots at the truck stop between Buttermilk Parkway and Highway 66.

As for other siblings, Spalding’s oldest sister Fawn, a law student at Buttermilk U. Law Center, was guaranteed straight A’s by her Comparative Corporate Governance professor, who Fawn regularly took over her knee and whipped during “office hours”. Tania, the artistic sister had a sculptor boyfriend  in chastity lockdown in Santa Clara, California…it was a very committed femdom family.

Spalding realized that twenty-two marked a decade since he’d been put in chastity. He’d gotten glimpses of Dad’s chastity belt…he’d asked him as a little boy “Daddy, why do you never use the urinal in public rest rooms?” And Dad shamefully had revealed the secret to Spal when he was about nine…and then when Spalding himself was twelve, Mother locked him up!

She’d smiled about it, but it was a cruel smile, as she’d  taken him through the Junior Belts at the PainCafe’s Dungeonopolis Gift Shop. “You’ve been spending a lot of time in Ian Zama’s tree house, darling. You aren’t smoking marijuana quite yet, but I know the other attraction for boys your age….nasty magazines, right?”

Spalding had nodded, what could he do? What Mom didn’t know was Ian also had porn  movies on his laptop, no cord needed, up there in the treehouse. He’d cried bitterly when Mom tried out the different belts on him in the changing room…

”Don’t worry, dear. I’m not going to put one on that punishes your erections…you can have all you want. Daddy’s of course is too small to let him get excited, but I understand a growing boy’s needs. But this way, you can concentrate more on school and sports, which seems to have slacked off a bit. You’ve also gotten a bit of a mouth on you, which comes with adolescent rebellion, but as you can imagine, I’m not much in favor of that.”

It was true…Spalding had endured, along with his brothers, extensive corporal punishment as well as “clothing restrictions” being made to wander the house naked when they’d behaved badly, but Spalding had no idea that Potter Junior, Boswell, and Searcy had been locked in chastity belts in high school.

But it made sense. They were drug free boys, very respectful to Mom (though not Dad) and although they dated and had normal teenage social lives, his brothers had always been home by eleven…even when they were visiting on term break from college!

Spalding’s sisters on the other hand had raised hell, been in and out of rehab, and sometimes had boys in their bedrooms…his parents were very easy going about that sort of thing, for the girls. He’d never seen his sisters naked, but they’d seen it all…

And Spalding had to admit, being in chastity  had done him good. He’d lost interest in the dirty magazines, and the disturbing circle-jerks his male friends were into in the tree house. He didn’t want to disrupt his rep as the toughest kid and the best athlete at John Wayne Gacy Middle School, so he couldn’t show anyone the chastity belt.

This meant ingenuity in finding places to shower alone at the school gym or when he was traveling with the Bernie Madoff High School basketball team (He had been an ace point guard for the Embezzlers, a team undefeated), and he couldn’t go skinny dipping with his friends on Senior Skip Day…so he decided to go to class…alone.

Mother had intimated that if Spalding did well in school, at least a 3.8 average, that he’d get to be unlocked on report card day, and this kept his nose in the books. She also gave him a nice half hour without the belt when Spal got his Eagle Scout, when he won the Distinguished Little League Graduate Award, and when he got the Richard Berendzen Physics Medal his junior year of high school…and for three years for getting the Buttermilk County Christian Athlete Award…and also when he won Golden Gloves.

Spalding had gotten a reputation with the girls he took out as a gentleman…one who loved necking and “feeling up” but stopped before home base, even when girls begged him, in the back seat of his Dad’s 2005 Acura. “I respect you” he’d tell them lamely.

There was a time where his reputation was in dire jeopardy…Mom had caught Spalding attempting to break into his chastity belt on his eighteenth spring, and she’d told him that he couldn’t jerk off no matter what his grades were that reporting period, and that he’d only be able to, if he wanked his willy in front of Whitney Ponds, his big crush at school.

Spalding had been acutely unhappy about this, but he’d gone through with it, and miraculously, Whitney, though repelled by the humiliated Spalding, had said nothing to the kids at school. It had been a miracle!

And Spalding knew Mother and Dad loved him dearly. When he received the National Merit Scholarship, which came with a full tuition-free ride at Buttermilk State University, Spalding had taken it, and that meant, of course, continuing his chastity plan, since he was going to live at home.

Now he was about to graduate from college with a double major in American History and Management Information Systems, and his future was bright. Masie, who was just toying the hell out of his stiff cock right now, had dropped out of two hairdressing schools, and spent a lot of time rolling and selling joints, but her future was assured, too…She’d met four submissive men in her twenty-one years who had proposed to her, and three were quite rich!

Maisie tortured Spalding to distraction all the time—she sat on his face, dropping only her panties, five to seven times a day, and was constantly unlocking his belt to tease him. All Spalding’s sisters had the master keys to his belt, and so there was a lot of that, but Maisie was the worst. She was the prettiest of the girls, and also the most devious.

When she wasn’t teasing Spalding in the house, she was tying him naked to the rafters in the garage and whipping his bare ass with a thorny branch from the rose bush. She’d wield this with glove covered hands, and whip Spalding’s little white ass until it resembled a burgundy pincushion!

Now, there was a commercial for feminine hygiene products on, so Maisie was stroking Spal’s rock hard cock, and tickling his armpits a little, too.

“Your big birthday party is coming up. Ma says you can have a normal one this year…not just family, you can wear clothes…you can have a keg, and your friends here. You’ve never even tasted beer, have you, Spalding?”

“No,” Spalding admitted, ashamed. Searcy came home one night in his twentieth summer, on time at eleven o’clock but with a little beer on his breath, and Mother had looped baling wire around his scrotal sack, attached the other end to the back of her lover’s Harley (Mother loved bikers) and instructed him to drag Searcy around the block!

The dude had only gone five miles an hour, but Searcy was quite blistered and cut up after the ride was over, and it taught strict teetotaling to the males in the Tyll family.

Maisie and her sisters had been guzzling beer, rum and Long Island Iced Teas since early high school, and laughed at their sober brothers…but then again, the men have to make a living, right? Good to teach responsibility.

Suddenly, Spalding’s reverie was interrupted as his Mother came into the living room, wielding a thick rope with ten knots in it. The end of the rope had a wooden handle, somewhat like the handle of a jump rope, and at the other end was a knotted fork.

Mother was a tightwadder and saw no reason to blow money on the whips and implements that were sold online and at the PainCafe’s Dungeonopolis Gift Shop when she could make things like this at home.

Spal’s Mom was a gorgeous, chesty ash blonde, not yet fifty, and quite popular around Buttermilk Falls, especially with young blue collar men who were eager to pop their cherries. Her husband and sons worshipped but feared her, and it was a complicated deal.

“Ma…whassup. Your rope looks a little bloody there.” Maisie said, as she ran her thumb up and down Spalding’s frenum. Maisie was an absolute expert at finding new and different ways to stimulate the underside of Spalding’s cock, but then she could also pinch just in time, before he was about to orgasm.

“That’s right, darling” Mother said, as she looked approvingly at her daughter, teasing and torturing her son…she smiled as if the two were playing Old Maid. “Your father promised he would wash my car before I went to visit LeTroyce, a young man who has just left the Pre-Release Center at the Buttermilk County Detention Home.

Mother paused and sighed, sadly, and her considerable bosom heaved. “But of course Daddy was more interested in his precious stamp collection, and I had to ride over there in a dirty car.”

Mother sighed impatiently, thinking of it, and her tremendous bosom heaved. “ LeTroyce didn’t care, he was a perfect gentleman, but I don’t like representing myself this way, so when I got home, I peed on Daddy’s latest stamp album, and then took him out to the garage with my rope toy here, and laid 85 on his bare buttocks. I think maybe next time he might listen, don’t you?”

Mother smiled to herself, swinging the rope casually. One of the knots hit Spal right in the nutsack and he  howled. “Sorry darling” Mother said absently. “But you’re such a wimp. Your friend Sylvan wouldn’t even wince at that.”

Spalding rolled his eyes. First, Sylvan was Perkins’s friend. Perk had been caught telling dirty jokes in the basement  with his friends Sylvan Stockley ,Altemus Quinn, and Treacle McCoy. She’d stripped Perk and whipped him right there in front of his buds with her trusty cut off two foot piece of  firehose (she had a lover in the Department), and Allie and Treacle had run in horror, but Sylvan has just knelt there in fascination.

When it was over, and Perkie was weeping in shame and humiliation, Sylvan had told Mother, “Mrs. Tyll, I’m at fault too, and my parents are permissive psychologists…I need this more than Perkins does.”

Before Mother could argue, Sylvan had stripped to his tightie whities, and then when Mother approached with her firehose, she’d smiled evilly at Sylvan and said, “You know you have to take those down, too…”Sylvan had blushed and taken his undies down to his ankles, and Mother had bent him over the rec room pinball machine and had nearly worn her arm out. She’d started slow, no need to get a lawsuit from the Stockleys (Jerome Stockley was a personal injury lawyer) but when Sylvan hadn’t made a sound, she’d gone for it big time.

By this time Perk was hiding under a bean bag, and when Sylvan said he needed further punishment for onanism and porn back home, Mother had taken him upstairs and given him an ice-cold enema, and then he’d stripped HER and gone down on Mother for an hour…and now he was a regular visitor!

Mother had been amazed at how willingly and silently Sylvan had been when she’d whipped him with thorny branches, rods, canes, whips, and cattle-prods. He could hang by his nipples for an hour without a murmur, which put the submissive Tyll men to shame—they were all criers, including Potter, the war hero!

Sylvan had noted Perk’s chastity belt with envy, and though he’d hunted Altemus and Treacle down and threatened to beat their faces in if they told anyone about Perkins’s plight (and Sylvester was a tough kid, his word had weight) still, he craved chastity.

By Sylvan’s eighteenth birthday, Mother had gotten a doc to staple his cock and balls  to the back of his buttocks, and the toughest kid in Buttermilk Falls wore full time drag worked at the lipstick counter at Neiman-Marcus and went by “Sylvia” (though close pals called Sylvia “Posy.”)

Now Mother looked at Spalding somewhat contemptuously. “Just a little bitch, still. And I’m thinking of letting you have a normal party, since you’re going to be a big, macho twenty-two. But maybe not. After all, you’re such a wussy. Maybe we should just have the regular thing, where you’re naked and I give you twenty-two lashes while you masturbate…even though you DID get a C in Organic Chemistry.”

Maisie looked innocently up at Mother as she continued to stroke Spalding. “But Ma, you said that Spal would get to wear clothes, and you’d take his belt off, and let him drink and act normal with his friends…you’re not gonna let him down now, are you?”

Spalding sure hoped not—he’d worked hard, buttering Mom up for this treat. He’d done all sorts of humiliating things she’d asked of him—he’d worn bright pink nail polish while running in his track meet…he’d actually won the damn thing, but had to run home before they could give him his trophy and see the shiny nails!

When Cousin Lucifer had shamefully come out, and been rejected by his family, Mother had invited Luce, big fat and homeley to stay with them for the summer, and when Luce had confessed that he’d always had a crush on Spalding, Mother had asked Spalding to suck Luce’s dick, and give him a few other treats, intimating that she’d be very generous back around Spal’s big twenty-two.

That had been eight months ago, and Spal’s stomach had spun whenever he’d let his fat, queer, acne ridden cousin sodomize and lick him…but he knew he wanted to have a legitimate “guy” party. When Luce had started school at Buttermilk State, Mother had actually gotten Spalding a pager, and whenever Luce called Spal, he’d go over to Luce’s dorm and suck him off, whatever he wanted…it was pure torture!

Spalding thought with horror of his last “private family” party. Mother had invited her friends Mistress Phoenix, Goddess Genesis and Lady Oddyssey from New York, and they’d had a field day putting clothespins and sharp clamps all over Spal’s body and making him dance.

Boswell’s wife had saved thirty of her bloody tampons and sixteen tied condoms from old lovers for Spalding to suck out, and they’d played “Bobbing for Apples”—all the Tyll brothers—Mother’s style, which meant bobbing their heads in a vat of urine for rounded turds that had been frozen in the garage freezer.

“So you’re excited then, about your party, darling?” Mother interrupted Spalding’s reverie. “You want a nice normal thing this year, with your regular friends and a bit of music, I suspect? You’ve earned it, I suppose.”

Spalding was ecstatic. “Yes, Mother, I really appreciate that.”  He was, after all, graduating with honors, and had done everything Mother asked him to.

The day of the party came, and Spalding was enthralled, fully dressed in faded jeans and a concert T-shirt, sipping beer, which had an odd taste, not as nice as soda pop. He and his friends were standing around a keg, and Lady Gaga was blaring from the speakers.

Some girls from town were there. Spal felt so free—he’d gone to high school and college parties since he was thirteen or so, but he’d always sipped Diet Coke, and looked around nervously, worrying that Mother might show up with a whip….and of course had scurried home from whatever event they were at at around ten forty-five, so he wouln’t break curfew. But tonight was different!

Maisie was behaving herself, bringing Spal’s buddies pigs in a blanket on trays, and he was having a great conversation with the beautiful Gwenny Gould about Gwenny’s acceptance to  law school when things went askew…in the back of his mind he’d known something would happen, but it had just been denial that had kept him in this happyk delusional state.

As Maisie stole up to Spal, he casually took a little hot dog off her tray, while keeping his eyes focused on Gwenny’s cleavage, framed in the tube top by her platinum blonde hair. Spal had always thought Gwen to be the ultimate in hotties here in Buttermilk Falls…and maybe now he’d ask her out…before she went off to Boalt Hall law  school in Berkeley, California.

But then Maisie leaned forward and whispered “Spalding…Mother wanted me to give you a message…it’s actually about your own graduate school.”

Spal shook his head irritatedly at his younger sister. Sure, she’d paddled his bare ass with a carpet sweeper yesterday morning til Spal was weeping and his butt was bloody…he’d forgotten to put the cap on the toothpaste!  But now, she was just a childish annoyance. Really, too young to be attending a party where alcohol was served.

“Look, I don’t have time to talk right now, Maze.” Spalding said, semi authoritatively. “Why don’t you go back in the house and get some more burgers for the grill, huh?”

Maisie smiled and whispered again. “Mother knows you’re psyched about graduate school, and she says if you want to—“ But this time Spalding gently shoved Maisie out of the way, nearly spilling her tray.

“What were you saying, Gwenny?” Spal asked with good humor. “The sis here can get on my nerves sometimes.” Spalding had game. Look how Gwen was looking at him.

But Maisie shrugged right behind Spalding and said “It’s about your keys. Mom says do you want them when you go off to grad school at Case Western Reserve next fall.”

Spalding’s heart froze. His keys? Gwen of course would think car keys…Mom was giving me custody of THE keys?

Spalding turned and looked at Maisie, utterly ignoring Gwen, who looked puzzled. “Wh-what about them-the keys?” He was to pack up his battered Volvo and leave for graduate school in thirty days. He expected to be coming back every grade quarterly period, to have his grades inspected  by Mother, with the understanding that if he made his 3.8, he’d be unlocked and allowed to masturbate.

Spal’s heart bounced. But wait, if he was in possession of the keys, he could masturbate all he wanted…he could screw a WOMAN, he wouldn’t be the oldest virgin in the world, as he thought he was…But why was Mother bringing this up now?

Spalding turned from Gwen and looked at Maisie, and then at Mother, who was leaning against the open door to the back yard party. She was smiling.

Maisie looked up at Spalding. “Spal, Ma says you’re mature enough now to decide when you want to masturbate…but she won’t give you the keys unless you show how much reverence you have for her and the family by taking off your clothes and masturbating now, in front of your friends. Just to show Mother that you venerate her.”

Spalding thought it over. He wasn’t wearing his chastity belt now…shit, he could go away to school and get bolt cutters and unlock the belt if he wanted to…it was a full fellowship, he didn’t need Mother at all, or the keys back.

But then he looked at Mother, and looked at his friends…and to his appreciative friends surprise, Spalding Tyll sighed, unzipped his jeans at four in the afternoon, and stepped out of them in the spring sunshine. His dick hardened, and Gwenny squealed.

Damn it, Spal thought, as he pulled off his shirt and began jerking his cock…It’s always something.