Letter From Los Angeles: Ms. Scunt

Dear Shoeblossom,

My name is Eliza Scunthorpe, a keyholder in Los Angeles

I have read Leland T___'s whining letter to you and I want to clear things up!

For instance there's Parrish!

Parrish is a favorite client of mine. He is on a relatively lenient schedule--he is allowed to orgasm about once every other week.

And he has privileges I don't usually grant to clients I'm not attracted to--Parrish is allowed to worship my body!

Many submissives are broken emotionally when I deny them my beautiful breasts--Horatius is one...on a cum every 2 month schedule--

Horatius must suffer, naked and bound while I pull and rub oil on my full mammaries while telling him how he's not allowed to touch them.

"That's right Horatius" I murmur, as I pour oil all over my full cleavage, occasionally stroking his purple shaft. "Only big boys are allowed to suck on these...all you get to do is watch!"

Sometimes Horatius cries bitterly before I lock him up and send him home chaste again, a sad little 47 year old carpet store chain owner!

But Parrish is, along with being rich, quite attractive. So while his penis is cruelly pierced and attached to his scrotal sack, I let my Parri suck and rub my big boobies for an hour before going down to lick my vagina until I scream.

Parrish sucks and kisses every inch of my body...legs, inner thighs, armpits...it's incredible, and sometimes I cum five or six times before its over...

I sometimes ride his face, nearly smothering him as he slurps away... and then I have him lick out my ass crack!

"Ms. Scunthorpe" Parrish has often told me..."You are the ultimate in vaginal honey."

Throughout the experience, of course, I will rub my long fingers about his struggling dickie.

When we 69, he is licking my slit, stimulating the labia with his long tongue, while I just run my finger up and down his pierced, bound shaft...it's just too much for him!

I make him use a dildo on me... telling him how much more rewarding it is than his puny cock. (Though actually, Parrish has a beautiful big thing, but of course it's all locked up 90% of the time).

Then the poor thing, his purple pierced penis bouncing and rolling about between his legs, must go home. It's tough on such a young guy!

Once every two weeks, however, I let Parrish fuck me, and cum! And then he must lick it all out, and then get locked back up again.

Horatius, on the other hand, who gets to squirt every 2 months...must cum while rubbing his cock against a chair leg with his hands cuffed behind him!

Horatius is always complaining bitterly that I don't give any attention to his cock. So one day I came by his office, and demanded that he take down his pants...I unlocked his cock and, rubbing it until it became hard, put it right under the paper cutter! (Horatius is old fashioned, and doesn't have a printer).

I kept running the blade down, just barely touching his hard cock, and asking Horatius if I could cut it off...and put the cock in a jar to put on my mantel!

"Just think, Horatius" I crooned sweetly as he sweated, in acute fear, "Then you wouldn't have to complain about not getting to cum. I could cut your balls off with this thing, too!"

After I locked Horatius up again and left the office, he didn't complain about my neglecting his wee-wee anymore.

Emmett is one of my Woodshed clients. My Woodshed is a lovely thing, as are all woodsheds.

They not usually subject to building codes or permits, nor does it require a great investment in time or money.

My Woodshed treatments have always been good for clients. Darrell, chief executive officer of a retailer, said the spankings he received from me made him "disciplined, detailed and organized."

Tyler, a shipping magnate has screamed with utter agony when I've tied him to the ceiling rafters and laid into his bare rump with my cat o' nine tails, a horsehide whip with steel balls at the end of nine separate strands!

Umberto N., an admissions director for a private schooln he learned from my woodshed punishments that "tough love is better than soft love."

And Emmet has had the same experiences! When he arrives, I instruct Emmet to clean some area of the house...and he always does a bad job.

A dreamy architect, Emmet doesn't pay attention to dusty corners, and I feel it's my duty to open his eyes just a bit! The other day I had him grounding out bathroom tiles with a toothbrush, and oh, how he bollixed that up.

"Daydreaming, are we?" I asked, coming up behind him on my Capezios. Emmet, distressed, looked up at me, "I'm so sorry, Ms. Scunthorpe, the job is almost done."

"I think not, Emmet." I said. "You have been in here half an hour, and it's not even half done, and some of these tiles are positively grimy, still."

I shook my head. "I think you don't value a clean bathroom--because you are slovenly."

Emmet babbled. "No, no...I'm not--I'm trying--"

I sighed. "No, once again, I invite you over here, hoping that I can perhaps make love to you, as a responsible, mature man, but you always disappoint--"

Of course Emmet brightens at the "make love" part, but then shrinks back as I grab his shoulder, dragging him out of the bathroom.

And it's off to the Woodshed!

"Take off your pants and underpants." I ordered. But as he whined and begged, I slapped him roundly, and ordered that he strip to the buff, before tying him to a nice wooden carpenter's horse.

The Woodshed is filled with instruments-- two by fours, paddles, dog-whips--

By the time I have worked through my collection, Emmet is covered in welts and sores, and is weeping and sobbing from the intense pain.

Then, instead of taking him back to tie him to the bed, I just turn his scorched buttocks over on the carpenter's horse, re-tie him, and finally unlock his chastity device...

And a pleasant hour is spent stroking and toying with Emmet's unfortunate member, rubbing and polishing it with a variety of soft lubes and scents...

And oh, after weeks and weeks without an orgasm, Emmet becomes far more focused on whether I might allow him relief than he was cleaning my bathroom floor, eh?

This before finally re-locking the device, collecting my fee, and sending my sobbing boy home!

I keep wondering if he'll ever be able to clean a room to my specifications...but somehow I doubt it!

Constantly, I have men who, despite their professed desire to have their orgasms properly regulated, are constantly trying to find a way to cum.

Vince is one such man,he has a Toyota dealership, and he is, I'm afraid, bound and determined to cum during my teases, because scheming is in the car salesman's soul.

Watching Vince, as he kneels naked on a hassock, his hands locked behind him, is instructive. I am carefully toying with his engorged penis, running my attractive violet nails lighty up and down it, and Vince is biting his tongue, holding still so he may get a release...

As if I wouldn't be aware of that ruse!

Imagine him, staring down my blouse as I pull and stroke his turgid organ, running my long, lube-slicked fingers across the bulging, purple, 83 day denied head.

"Vince!" I said, stopping the mind-bending massage abruptly. "What are you doing?"

He is precariously kneeling on the hassock, and startled, he nearly falls off.

"What, Ms. Scunthorpe? What am I doing?" I smile inwardly, watching him writhing in his handcuffs.

I was tempted to cuff Vince's hands behind his head,but I knew he'd have no balance then. I have another client, Tariq, who performs at the Freud Playhouse in the Los Angeles Ballet.

Tariq has excellent balance, and so when I manually tease him, not only do I cuff his hands behind his head, but I make him stand on one foot on a high stool!

That is truly hilarious watching the world famous Petruchio in "The Taming of the Shrew" and Titania's Cavalier in "A Midsummer Night's Dream" trying to keep his balance while I tickle his frenulum, and watch his other leg swinging around behind him!

But Vince is pathetic. "What am I doing wrong, Ms.Scunthorpe?" he asked.

"Why, you're trying to cum without permission, instead of just enjoying the tease." I said crisply.

Vince looked both bewildered and rather haggard, as I had been teasing his cock and balls nonstop for nearly three hours.

I reached behind me and found a nice abrasive wire brush, used generally for scouring rust off ships. (The kind with the bristles all around.)

I smiled at Vince, and then whacked him hard in the tip of the cock with the wire brush.

Vince screamed, gritted his teeth, and again tried to pull free of the handcuffs.

"Vincent, you are guilty of attempting to get an unearned orgasm, and besoiling my hands with your spooge." I said acidly.

"Normally, when you are allowed to cum, you jerk off, and then lick it up, about once every 90 days...

So I don't have to deal with the mess, but here you are, trying to make a nasty mess in my hand by manipulating your cock against my fingers!"

I began grimly rubbing my wire brush against his shriveling cock as he begged desperately for mercy. Vincent knows that I am not fooling around...

When I've been displeased with him in the past, I've made him wear "hair shorts" sort of like a religious hair shirt for mortification.

The shorts covered in coarse cloth and animal hair gave Vincent acute discomfort for two weeks or so...and I'd lock it on.

Other times I had him wear a penile cilice--a spiked metal chain strapped tight from his anus and winding round his organ, and locked into the chastity device, making his erections even more of a discomfort!.

As I scrubbed the brush, Vincent's cock became like a tiny pinkie that had been crushed beneath the wheels of a Mack truck.

I pulled the penis out to its longest and ran the wire bristles vigorously over the glans, the scrotum, the shaft and the testicles...Vincent's eyes watered, but I ignored him.

As I dragged it along the sensitive skin, Vince gritted his teeth, and bit his lip to keep from screaming--he knows I don't like whiny boys!

Finally I stopped, dropping the now somewhat bloodstained wire brush.

I just sat and watched him kneeling on the hassock, weeping bitterly. I will admit that I often feel a surge of accomplishment when I can make a man cry!

When Vincent finally calmed down, I put a handkerchief to his nose and encouraged him to blow, and then I tenderly wiped his face off.

Then, of course I splashed witch hazel all over his genitals,which set him off screaming again, but we must be hygienic!

Finally I said, "Now I want to train you so you will go limp when I order it, Vince...this business of trying to get a squirtie illegally is not going to happen."

So I took my top off and fluffed up my cleavage in my nice embroidered double fuschia lace corset with push up padding.

I let my hair down, tossing my head so the curls bounced round my bare shoulders.

I then squirted more lube in my hands and began rubbing and stroking his cock again, leaning in so he could see the depths of my full pink breasts.

"Don't you wish you could lick a nipple, Vince?" I teased.

I pulled and stroked his cock until it was large and straining again...it looked like poor Vince was on the verge of cumming...

"Now then" I said seductively. "I want you to go limp, Vince. Think of something else, and go limp for me."

Vincent shook his head. "I can't!"

Actually I couldn't blame him, my red nails were causing all sorts of havoc down there, and of course he was having quite a time of it...

But I reached over and got the wire brush and waved it in his face.

Vincent panicked, but then closed his eyes and tried to think of something gross...

I kept stroking and tickling his cock and balls, and pinched his right nipple to get him to notice me again...

Vincent's cock was getting bigger, not smaller...I leaned over and grabbed a car ariel from the coffee table.

Although I re-invented myself as Eliza Scunthorpe, learning my manners from a submissive English butler, I was once Suzette D'Amico, war lord for the East Los Angeles Street Damsels...and I knew how to use a car ariel to sting!

WHACK! THWAP! The car ariel slammed twice against Vince's cock and he screamed, and as he howled I landed it four more times on his penis until it was tiny again.

Then I took the brush and resumed ministrations.

By the end of the session, Vincent would go limp when I gave him the order, even when I stripped off my top, pushed my nipples in his chest and my tongue in his mouth! It was very gratifying to finally have some penile obedience!

Of course I have my problem clients, such as Alan, who needs the strictest discipline. Alan is a corrupt building inspector.

He neglects his wife and children to come see me with the bribe money...since he has not slept with his wife in years, I have him in an especially secure chastity lock.

Once a week, when Alan comes to see me, the tease is especially vicious. I bind him against a St. Andrew's cross, and then unlock his device, and then strip to bra and panties...

Alan loves my breasts, as do all men, but he also is quite enthralled with my rear end. I wear a thong, and spend twenty minutes rubbing my full cheeks against his engorged cock, until it is trembling miserably, and Alan is breathing in short, punctuated bursts!

I bend over pulling down the thong and spread my cheeks, showing Alan my winkie...

"Wouldn't you like to screw me back here, darling...or even kiss it...but you can't because you're a disgusting corrupt bereaucrat! Sad."

Then I move back and push my soft buttocks cheeks around the trembling, sweating tip of Alan's neglected cock. "It feels so smooth, right, baby? You like that, don't you?"

Moving my cheeks back and forth, letting my asshole just pucker over Alan's bulging glans is such a pleasure..and then pulling back and whispering in Alan's ear...

"Baby...don't you want to fuck my little bung-hole...but you're such a wimpie boy that you have to be tied down and held back...a dick as small as yours would be like losing a pencil in there anyway, right?"

I then press my breasts in their push up brassiere against Alan's narrow chest watching spitefully as he gazes helplessly into the large vanilla mounds of my cleavage.

"Don't say it, darling..I know you want to suck these marvelous mounds..but you can't, can you? You're just a watcher, a voyeur while everyone else in the world is having sex..."

I laugh rather hysterically, and then pull away, and reposition my buttocks around his throbbing "manhood".

I push and massage his dick with my cheeks again and again...

Then I back off yet again, pulling my thong back up, and reach for my 32 inch polyethylene whippy cane, manufactured in Bangkok. A splendid stingy thing, it cuts the skin like a knife!

I rub my fingers across the weals coating his shaft, giggling girlishly. "You can take a few little taps on your penis can't you, Alan...you're a big man, right?"

"Yes ma'am" Alan says as his penis engorges again. Oh, he begins to moan with pleasure.

"Yes, I've read all about you in the news, Alan, you and your building inspection ethics. Ignoring shoddy work, faulty materials, deviations from construction documents and violations of the codes..."

I raise the cane and bring it down savagely against his cock five times as hard as I can.

Alan's howl can probably be heard throughout the neighborhood.

"Alan, I grew up in an impoverished tenement in South Central LA. My mother was on welfare and the building owner, a Mr. Rothman, got all his violations ignored...by someone just like you...and my baby brother fell through a hole in the stairwell...

And I cane his cock again and again and how he screams!

WHACK! SLASH! The cane leaves lovely burning stripes on Alan's engorged cock, and within a couple more strikes, his penis is wilted and bleeding.

Then I rub his cock and balls with jalapeno peppers, and leave him to scream for a bit...

Colby is another problem client. I only see him four times a year, as he lives in Coromandel,New Zealand. Colby's wife Kara is quite aware of his slave status, and she keeps him in near full time chastity.

I have the only key to Colby's belt, and so four times a year, Colby comes to me for a weekend, with the faint hope that I will unlock his belt and allow him to masturbate to orgasm before returning to Kara and their sheep farm. (No witty remarks, please).

He is on a very intense schedule--every Tuesday he e-mails me a picture of him kneeling on jacks and whipping his bare back with a leather belt with one hand, and holding up the "New Zealand Herald" showing the date with the other.

Kara also gives Colby intensive discipline--hairbrush and wooden paddle whippings for neglecting chores. I am of course consulted on all this.

That's a gratifiying webcam shot--Kara's curly bob bouncing as she slams her thick wooden Spencer paddle against Colby's buttocks, raising purple welts and eliciting gratifying screams from Colby!

I give orders through the webcam, instructing Kara to ensure Colby's almost complete emasculation...

The whippings are vicious, and she does entertaining things like having Colby drag bags of encyclopaedias and sometimes cinder blocks across the floor by his balls....his cock of course is locked up in the device!

Colby also gets lots of interesting anal torture--he is impaled with cucumbers, Coca-cola bottles, bowling pins, pool cues, and recently with Kara's fist, covered of course in rubber glove!

"Colby won't be able to hold his shit by the time he's fifty" Kara says with obvious pride.

Kara also teases Colby's engorged, purple cock by rubbing a feather through the steel cage. She doesn't have the key--only I have that--but it doesn't stop her from teasing him a bit.

But Kara, unlike many dominant wives, is not that interested in teasing and torturing her husband, mostly just in ensuring that he supports her financially and does his work around the house without complaint.

And of course Colby services her many lovers. They are always young hands on the ranch that Colby owns, and it is entertaining to see the "big boss" dressed in a French maid's outfit, his lips rouged with Candy Paint Purple Reign Gloss...

And then he must lick and suck their cocks before they go to mount Kara...it's rather hilarious.

Colby must be a good cocksucker in order to earn orgasms with me! Not only must he suck the cocks of the various workers on their farm, but he goes into town, to the only gay pub, and, being a handsome fellow, must earn his points with me by really giving a good slurping to the various nelly queens who populate the place.

Generally, there is a back room at this one place, and Kara films Colby doing his mouth-work, and the gays always get a big kick out of her hovering with the camera phone.

I counsel him by cell phone..."Colby, don't use your teeth...long licks...go for the perineum, that small patch of skin between the balls and the anus...deep throat and lick it..that's a good boy.

"Make lots of nice moaning noises, remember you get the guy hotter by making him feel like you like it...tell him how beautiful his big half-smoker of a dick is!

Flicker your tongue around the ridge of his glans, honey... Cover your teeth with your lips and apply pressure to the shaft as you pull it in!"

"Swirl your tongue around like you're slurping up an ice cream...good boy. Reach around and put your finger up his ass and bounce it about..."

It took Kara and I some time to train Colby to deep throat, relaxing his throat so an entire cock could get down there. But we pointed out to him that the faster guys cum, the more cocks he could suck, and that would impress me into letting him cum when he came to visit me!

When Colby finally sees me, he is usually rather wiped. For a man who owns a sheep herding ranch, Colby does none of the outside work, and is a pale little nebbish in a gray suit with a white shirt and black string tie.