LETTER FROM CHARLESTON

Dear Shoeblossom:

I still get wet when I remember that first thrashing in my grandfather’s barn. My little denim miniskirt turned up, panties down, struggling over Gramp’s knee as the huge strap had come down again and again against my jiggling full butt cheeks.

When the strap connected with my buttocks, bouncing a bit off my little tuft of pubic hair, Gramps screamed at me about my abuse of the free will God had granted me! And as I’d screamed, he’d brought the strap down again and again!

Gramps caught me smoking weed in his barn, a serious fire hazard, and I’d been warned. But I was a bored, spoiled willful girl, my own Ferrari on my sixteenth birthday…the fam and I had gone to Europe, but I’d got caught with drugs in Milan, and they’d sent me home to Gramps till they returned in the fall.

I’d laughed when Gramps shouted at me, but my laugh had faded when he’d taken a long thick leather strap from the barn wall. “This kept your father and his brothers in line, Volta…I think perhaps you could use a taste of it, I know you’ve never been hit, raised by blasphemous child psychology!”

I’d been amazed at his energy, grabbing my arm and throwing me across his knee. As I’d cursed at him and told him what a freak he was, Gramps used the razor strop to turn my ass into a flaming inferno, and he laughed while he did it!

Gramps had then ordered me to remove the rest of my clothes and shovel manure in the nude…which made me wonder if he was really just a concerned um, guardian. When I flagged at the heavy work, he’d gone back in with the strap, whipping my buttocks, thighs, stomach and breasts, and I’d discovered that I had incredible energy to finish the job!

Before he’d left the barn, I’d thrown myself on Gramps, pushing my tongue in his mouth, and then sucking his cock as he’d moaned “You love your Gramps, you’ll learn to be an obedient girl, and I know you will!”

But then the next morning, I’d given my Grandma the finger at the breakfast table, and Gramps had taken me in the yard, pulling down my short shorts and cutting a hazel switch, thrashing my full buttocks until I’d cried and howled.

Then of course, I’d turned and given him the finger and run, and he’d chased me into the woods, finished the whipping, before I jumped on him again and we made mad, passionate love.

By the time my folks had returned from Italy, my poor buttocks were covered in purple welts—Grandma had also taken me across her plump knees and worn out a hairbrush on my butt cheeks…and Grandpa of course was easily provoked!

Grandma had actually sneaked into my bedroom and sat her 170 pounds on my face while I’d licked her to numerous orgasms…this was not the Grandma who baked brownies, was it?

I’d learned that being a good girl was boring unless you got a bit of encouragement, and that my grandparents were peculiar people. No wonder Dad didn’t bring us to visit them much.

I ended up spending every Christmas and  summer vacations through college and law school with my grandparents, Mom and Dad were puzzled, as they gave me enough cash in spending money to go to the beach, wherever I liked, but I needed to be with my beloved oldsters…

And of course I would parade around in front of my disapproving grandparents in tight lime tube tops and cut offs, high heels…telling them to go to hell, and they had to naturally respond by stripping me, tying me to the bars of their brass bed and giving me the punishment and discipline I needed to be a better person!

I cried miserably at their funerals…they’d changed me as a person!

My next master had been Alejandra, the maintenance woman of the building I lived in as a starting associate in a Charleston law firm. Alejandra could barely speak English, but she’d taken my measure the first week I’d been in the RomanCrest Apartments, spoiled Blanca bitch that I was.

Every week, Alejandra would drop in and look around the apartment, cursing in Spanish as she noted the disarray. Taking me across her knee, pulling up my designer dress and dragging down my pantyhose, Alejandra would use my mother’s old hairbrush to make me squeal as my butt surged in pain.

Then Alejandra would order me to strip and I would have to clean my apartment, and then hers—provided free by the building—in the nude, as she kept me bouncing with the vacuum with a bit of bamboo cut from the RomanCrest back yard.

And then Alejandra and her husband, Santiago would order me to service them both before making them dinner, and then taking further discipline afterwards! And I always tipped them well!

It took me some time before I accepted that I was a full time submissive. I worked with a caring therapist, Dr. Bornfeld, who tried hard for three years to give me self esteem before he’d finally given up and taken me across his knee himself, using a thick book to redden my buttocks.

And then I met Thorpe!

I try to be a brave girl when Thorpe punishes me. The humiliation of taking down my jeans and my panties, and getting 40 with his thick wooden paddle—the pain—is daunting, but bearable.

“Volta, try not to be a baby, it’s boring” Thorpe says to me later, when tears are streaming down my cheeks, and I’m grabbing my breasts, which he’s caned briskly with his long rattan. “Now let go of them, Volta, and push them out, hands behind you, you know you’ve got to take your punishment with more grit, honey.

Oh, how he loves going for my breasts!

Thorpe has a resentment because the big-titted cheerleaders in high school weren’t very nice to him, I think…we attended the same school, and though I wasn’t a cheerleader, my friends and I made fun of him and his stoner buddies.

Thorpe has required that I take my punishments with grace. Jutting my full breasts out, and closing my eyes, I grit my teeth when the cane hits my nipples, and I try so hard not to buckle and bend…I am forbidden from grabbing my breasts after the cane hits them, though the pain can really be over powering. I have a beautiful chest, been told so since seventh grade, but it is a sensitive one.

But after my punishments, I frig myself, using a Bic pen, and have powerful orgasms. Thorpe says I’m not worth fucking, and perhaps that’s right. Men have always  worshipped me, and it’s kind of boring!

It’s mostly I guess because of my looks—I have long curly strawberry blonde hair, and full lips, and fair skin—twinkling emerald eyes.—and I know how to twitch my bosom and my full buttocks to get the most attention!

Thorpe has trained me to suck his penis slowly. To make it last. I take his cock in my mouth and I rub my full lips up and down his long shaft, from the tip to the hilt, again and again, going up and down faster and faster, and then slowing down, so he can take his time before he cums in my mouth.

The first time we did this, and Thorpe came too fast, he pulled my head off his penis by my long hair, and he bitch-slapped me his huge hand bouncing my little head back and forth until my nose bled. And then I pleaded his forgiveness by kissing his feet.

“Volta, I want you to learn patience” he consoled me, stroking my neck. “I know you can make me proud and give me a nice long blowjob. I want you to be able to suck my penis while I eat dinner, to blow me under the table, and if I have friends, men and women visiting, that you can take turns performing sexually on all of them.”

This was really hard for me to accept—especially when I invited friends of mine over, and Thorpe ended up turning them from my friends into my dominants. The laughter, and the camaraderie, memories from college and everything that went into a friendship disappeared.

My best friend Taylor, we’d been giggling buddies since seventh grade, was one of these. She and her boyfriend, Max, were very close friends, and then after Thorpe stripped and whipped me in front of them the first time, they first reacted in horror.

“What the fuck are you doing, Volta?” Taylor had asked in horror. “Leave him, we’ll help you.” But of course I’d explained my submissive leanings, and then Thorpe had seduced Taylor, allowing Max to amuse himself with me, and Max had really enjoyed the oral expertise that my Master had taught me!

Within a few weeks, Taylor had gotten a little angry because Max was so attracted to me (I am a lot prettier) and she felt she had to justify her affair with Thorpe, perhaps by “understanding” what was going on…

“If you resent Volta for her sexually fascinating Max, even if I ordered her to service him, Taylor…you should punish her!” Thorpe had said, and Taylor had eagerly gone for this.

She’d whipped me and tortured my full breasts that she’d always been jealous of; she’d punched my big tits and slapped my face hard. Poor Taylor had gotten implants after college to try and compete with me, and they hadn’t gone well, and this was a nice way of working out her resentments.

When she told Thorpe she’d always been jealous of my naturally curly strawberry blonde hair, Thorpe had given Taylor permission to give me a crew cut! This had been almost breaking to me, but I’d submitted, what else could I do?

Within four months, instead of the usual drinks, and playing Pictionary, I would greet Taylor and Max at the door, naked, and allow them to put their cigarettes out on my buttocks, as Thorpe had a nicotine free house.

Then I would kneel in the corner naked, leaving only to bring them drinks and snacks. Thorpe would sit and talk politics, sports and music with Taylor, Max and other former friends of mine, and I’d only be summoned, in silence to service them sexually, take various forms of abuse, and bring more food and drink!

But I don’t need friends anymore. I have my beloved Thorpe, my Master. I ran into him at a BDSM event three years ago, remembering him as a geek from high school…and then I begged him to whip and torture me, which Thorpe has happily done.

I still work, and play tennis to stay in shape, but my life otherwise is completely devoted to my Master, and his friends…including my friends, who are now also my dominants. It has been hard to accept, but I realize that there is truly no other way to live!

Recently, Taylor and I went on a biking trip, and I tried to start up the old friendship—trying to laugh with her about old times. But Taylor stopped her bike and reached over slapping my face so hard that I almost fell off my own bike.

“Shut your face you worthless little scumbag!” Taylor screamed at me, and then she forced me off Greenridge Road into the North Woods Community and I watched dumbly as she cut a long switch from a nearby bramble tree.

“Take off your tank top and your shorts, Volta.” Taylor screamed at me. “Max keeps talking about your beautiful rose colored areolas, and your big boobs…I’ll make them pretty!”

“But, Taylor, the submissive thing is just a game um, I play with Thorpe—please don’t--“

But Taylor’s rage was implacable. She grabbed me by the ear and shook me. Even though I am taller and stronger than Taylor (She is a bit pudgy) and could easily knock her down, being a former kickboxing champion.

But my submissive side overcame me, and, with tears streaming from my eyes, took off my tank top, my jogging bra, my shorts and panties, and, ignoring the stares from nearby picnickers in the dog park, put my hands behind my neck as I’d been trained to do.

“I’m going to teach you to try to socialize with me like we’re friends, you nasty little pig.” Taylor said angrily, She took the switch and slashed me across the breasts, and, the pain nearly killing me, I bent over, weeping.

I looked up and tried to reason with her. “Taylor-I’m not attracted to Max at all, you know this. Two years ago, when you started dating him, I told you what a geek he was…it’s just that Thorpe orders me to—“

But this made Taylor even madder, the idea that Max had no appeal for me, but the fact that Thorpe allowed Max to use me as he liked…and that he’d lost all sexual interest in Taylor, his fiancée, was just enraging.

It was even worse now, because actually, Thorpe, after the initial period with Taylor, had lost sexual interest in her, too. So she was very, very angry at her beautiful, but submissive, former best friend.

I couldn’t believe it! We used to put our names, with BFF (Best Friends Forever) all over seats on public transportation…we’d been cheerleaders together, and now she was savagely whipping my boobs!

“Keep your hands behind your neck like you’ve been trained, Pigzilla” Taylor ordered, and she landed the thorny switches across my tits a few more times.

One young pimply kid came up to us, with an obvious hard-on. He asked me if I was in trouble, and Taylor told him that if he liked, I’d give him a blow job! For fifteen minutes I sucked this little creep’s dick before I returned to jut my breasts out and take more punishment!

After Taylor broke four switches on my breasts, she’d turned me over her knee and whipped my buttocks as well, and then she’d taken my clothes, my bike and her bike and left, and after a number of men had come by and gawked at me, someone had given me a blanket to put over my shivering, naked body, and they’d driven me home. But Taylor hadn’t apologized at all! Thorpe was proud of her!

After I told Thorpe what had happened, he got so excited that he made me suck his dick for an hour, and then we had to go back to the North Community Park and reenact it together…it was just a horrific experience!

Then he’d taken me to a public restroom, and had me suck men who wandered in for the afternoon, jerking off as he witnessed my humiliation, kneeling on the urine soaked floor, weeping bitterly, and sucking cock after cock!

But later, locked in Saadiqa’s old cage, I frigged myself, thinking of what a submissive little pig I was, and how exciting it was that I submitted to whoever Thorpe ordered me to. It was like a fantasy!

Thorpe’s wife, Saadiqa, used to live with us. She is a beautiful Arab woman; she looks a lot like Queen Noor. Thorpe is much harsher with Saadiqa—he has pierced her nipples with steel rings and sometimes he would cuff Saadiqa’s hands behind her, helping Saadiqa climb a stepladder and attaches the rings to a ceiling hook, and then pull the ladder away so poor Saadiqa would be hanging by her breasts!

I would squeal and howl like a banshee if that was happening to me, but Saadiqa was stoic. Always! You could see the tears streaming silently down her cheeks as she hung, swinging from her full 38DD breasts, but not a sound came from her trembling lips.

And Thorpe would sit,laughing at her. her. He thinks it was funny. Sometimes when Saadiqa was hanging there, he’dcome up behind her with his short leather flogger and begin whacking away at her round buttocks and graceful calves, so she is suffering pain from nipples AND behind.

Thorpe also put Saadiqa through amazing struggles when he decided he was going to lock her in a small cage in the basement. Their basement is rather cold, and although Saadiqa was the owner of their Colonial House here in Charleston, South Carolina that we lived in, she spent much of her time down cellar.

When Thorpe felt the need to pee, and I was blessedly not in the house, he just went downstairs and stuck his dick in Saadiqa’s cage and she took his penis in her beautiful, heart shaped lips and he emptied his bladder, and she swallowed it without a murmur.

This has not worked out with me, I fear. When Thorpe pees in my mouth, I still spit it up and cough, revolted by the urine coursing down my throat, and then Thorpe has to take off his belt and whack my buttocks and back as I kneel, cowering on the bathroom floor.

To help me adjust to the taste of urine, Thorpe makes me drink a pitcher of urine a day, and this has desensitized me a bit, but after all, I come from one of South Carolina’s oldest families, the Coopers…it’s a bit much for me.

Thorpe is quite impatient that I have not become as serene a slave girl as Saadiqa. It’s unfortunate, and no amount of thrashing seems to bring me into line. But part of it might be that Saadiqa trained Thorpe. He had done a bit of Male Master stuff when she met him, but as he tells me now, he was a bit taken aback at how quickly she got him to take charge.

“Rip off my clothes, Thorpe, treat me like your dog.” Saadiqa had begged the first time they’d gone out.

This had really been weird for Thorpe, who had seen Saadiqa, the daughter of a sheik, as being the ultimate ball-buster. She’d gotten him to put a leash on her neck and drag her about, and he’d gotten a real kick out of it.

Later on, he’d come into her room, and she’d been kneeling, eyes lowered, and he’d taken  her father’s walking stick and worked her over good…and he’d been amazed that she could take vicious whippings without a murmur.

Eventually Saadiqa and Thorpe broke up, and she has gone back to her homeland where EVERYONE female is subjugated, but hey, we remember her fondly.

Thorpe and I will probably get married, and I am so excited about that. This puzzles my parents, who always considered Thorpe and his family white trash, but I have explained to them that although Thorpe is from the wrong side of the tracks, and that he is a gas station attendant while I am a partner in a law firm…he makes me happy.

And isn’t that what life is about?

Best,

Volta the Sub-pig.

Dear Volta:

I think it’s great that you have found happiness, even if you are constantly getting the shit kicked out of you. The oldster Dominant Master thing is an interesting one. Caitlin, who wrote “LETTER FROM BALTIMORE” runs an assisted living home, and she has several old men and women who enjoy taking the Head Executive into their quarters, and bending her over the walker and giving her a bit of old fashioned discipline!

Cameron, who wrote LETTER FROM SCOTTSDALE says that his Arizona old fashioned grandparents not only disciplined him through his mid twenties, but also made him wear tassels on his nipples and dance naked with makeup in front of their retirement association. He said it’s the only mental health in his life…he misses them and is looking for another geriatric disciplinarian. And why not?

Best,

Shoeblossom