Dear Shoeblossom
My first husband was an asphalt salesman; he sold cork flooring, too. I locked him in a plastic belt soon after we met; that much time on the road can make a man quite frisky.
And of course you know the type. Ralph "Rip" Muztagh was a flirt from the word go.
And he had what you'd call a long "cunt collar" amongst his friends. One of his exes, Nadya, had jumped or fallen off a bridge after he'd betrayed her once too often.
Mum had locked Daddy in a chastity belt back in the Eighties, and it seems to change a man, make him more devoted, perhaps.
Dad was an old fashioned sort, a Czech poet who had escaped with his family from the Nazis. Very stoic, Daddy.
When I was twenty, Mother first exposed me to the femdom lifestyle, and I watched wordlessly as she ordered my big, muscled father to strip and bend over her knee.
Neither of my parents had ever raised a hand to me, or really punished me at all; and I was so impressed by their kindess to me and each other that I had been a fairly good daughter.
But apparently, when I'd been away from the house--and I was an active girl--Scouting, music lessons, hanging with my friends at the mall--
Mother had used a series of implements on Dad, belts, straps, hairbrushes, racquetball paddles.
And, although she'd been fucking three or four men from the janitor at Tucker's Tavern to the tennis pro at the Y and then Dad's best friend as well, poor cuckold, my dad--and he, Dad had been slavishly attached to Mom.
I guess he still is. But I imagine even now, at seventy-eight, he is still locked in chastity.
Dad was a bit of a hippie, he and his first wife, and they were on a commune or something, and named their kids Brahmin, Druid and then there's my half-sister Lotus.
I guess when Dad re-married Mum, his adult kids, or at least one of them was influenced by the chastity movement (or maybe influenced them, my parents, I don't know)
But my half-brother Druid who is about seventeen years older than I, rented me a room, or really gave it to me, when I went through a phase in my early twenties of being a San Francisco glass sculptor.
Dru had been in a long-term chastity/keyholder arrangement with two holistic Tantraologists, Bentley and Q-Tip (Frisco and all that).
Druid didn't have a whole lot of money, so what he'd done was, gone without orgasms while locked in his belt, sometimes months, until he had enough to pay for a session.
And of course, sometimes the girls didn't let him cum, just gave him very long hand jobs, and locked him back up. As Druid had always found me kind of hot, my little pixie cut and all that--
I took over the penis rubbing for free...Bentley and Q-tip handed the keys over to the chastity cage with grace, and even gave me an impromptu lesson. I knew a bit about this, of course, because of my experiences with Mom and Dad, as well.
Three nights a week, spread out, usually Monday, Wednesday and Saturday, I would bind Dru to his bed, and unlock his belt and bathe his cock and balls, my boobs bouncing earnestly in my tube top.
I wore this pinkish-purple nail polish and it really fixed my half-brother's eyes on my cuddly bosom. The start and stop hand job I did was more than distracting.
Sometimes Dru would be weeping, but very aroused, at its non-orgasmic completion.
As Environmentally Conscious Tantrologists, Bentley and Q-Tip had advised using vegetable oil as a lube, but I thought this was ridiculous...
Old fashioned may not dispose well, but how long are we frickin' here for? Live it up!
I discovered with Druid, and kept this for my successor chastity boys, that there should be about 2 months between orgasms.
Perhaps a minimum, and days and weeks should be added and subtracted on the basis of good behavior.
And I guess Druid found me to be a bit of an iron fist in a velvet glove.
I ran around in short-shorts and open buttoned tops, Bay area weather permitting, and kissed and rubbed up against him quite a bit, even when I had a boyfriend.
But, Dru could be a pain in the ass sometimes, and I returned this with vigor.
Before I left home, Mom had tucked a short dog's whip, 'bout three feet long, in my luggage, and did that boy get his hair cut fast!
