Dear Shoeblossom,
I am just an ex-cocktail waitress who married a troubled but worthwhile guy. Mom always told me to find someone classy like a dentist or a Buick dealer. "Mariah, it's as easy to fall in love with a rich guy as a broke guy." But I fell for Raymond Withers, Jr. hard, and I married him right before he went to Vietnam.
Still, as in all marriages, there were issues. For one, I fucked all these guys while Ray was gone, and could not really stop when he returned. Ray's a nice fellow, but there's not a lot of "there" there.
I honestly think BDSM saved my marriage, especially female domination. When Ray came home from Vietnam in 1973, it seemed like the recession and inflation got to him fast.
Ray went to college on the GI bill, but then there weren't any jobs in his field, so he went to work in his Dad's TV repair shop. This led to dissatisfaction.
He began throwing knives through the kitchen door when I brought in dinner, and shooting off his old Luger in the back yard.
Fixing and selling televisions and stereos at his Dad's shop, not making much money, and unfortunately, from time to time I was fucking both Ray's dad and his dimwitted brother, Earl.
I was worried Ray might find out, though he did wonder what his dad and Earl were snickering about at the store. Something was bad, and Ray would get drunk at the V.F.W. after work and come home in a terrible mood.
But then Ray's fetish came out, and it was lucky for me.
Ray is dark and slightly balding, and I'm a big-haired brassy blonde. Ray looks like the domineering type, but I remember the first time he took down his pants and handed me his Dad's old leather strap, and I made him scream as he lay across the bed.
After this, whenever he was excessively temperamental, I began sending him for the strap, and of course he'd argue with me.
"Mariah, let it go. I'm just pissed about the goddamn electric bill. Do you have to use so much-"
"That's enough, Raymond. Go get the strap. It's fifteen now, for the profanity-"
"Mariah, I have a legitimate goddamn complaint-"
"And now it's thirty. You want to try for fifty?"
I could see, during these pre-punishment arguments, that Ray's dick was hardening in his corduroys. The humiliation, the discipline...it got to him.
Muttering, posturing, Ray would come back with the strap and I'd undo his pants as if he was a six year old. Then drag him by his ear to the arm rest of the couch, and by the eleventh slap of the strap, Ray would be crying.
When it was over, Ray would be clutching my legs, kneeling with the lowered pants and weeping like a resentful child.
What then? Corner time, sometimes an enema. To get Ray calm and respectful, an enema, followed by a big strap-on (yes, they had them back in the Seventies) and finally I'd have him with his thumb in his mouth, in adult footie pajamas, in bed.
Ray found out about my extracurricular activities with Earl (though he never found out about me sleeping with Dad, thank God.) There was a big to-do, and the brothers were going to fight in the front yard.
But then I suggested they work it out with the razor strap. "Ray, you know you're not enough to please me, and your big brother is doing a valuable service. But you whine so much! Earl, why don't you take Ray upstairs, pull down his pants and tan his hide."
Now Ray was far more muscular than Earl, and he could have punched Earl out, but instead he stared at the ground in shame and humiliation.
Then Earl indeed, took Ray inside and upstairs, and there was much screaming and howling, and then both brothers came back down, Ray naked and weeping, and Earl grinning.
Then Ray stood in the corner while Earl gave me what I needed. And after this, Ray cleaned us both off with his tongue, and then went weeping to the bathroom, but I think after this, he played with his wee-wee.
But my harshness really helped to get Raymond on target.
Truly, we were able to clear up some goals for Ray, things he'd always wanted to do, but was so undisciplined. Ray had always wanted to get an economics PhD.
It was his big dream, so he could quit working in the TV store, but the work was hard as he got into graduate school. I'm a dunce, so I really couldn't help him.
But I did know he needed to submit a certain number of pages a week. When it was time to turn in his thesis, or his dissertation, whatever, I began giving Ray bare bottom spankings for every day he didn't do five pages of research and writing.
At work, Earl forbade Ray from going to the tavern for lunch. Earl made Ray strip and tied him to a chair, yes, every day, and fired economics questions at him, kicking Ray in his balls for every one he got wrong.
When it was time to meet in front of Ray's snotty little advisor (how Ray hated that guy) I would order Ray to strip in the university office and kneel in front of me and Sumner, that was the advisor's name, and Sumner and I would fuck on the desk just before going over Ray's progress.
If Ray wasn't working to expectations, I would allow Sumner to cane Ray and then lick my juices off the tip of Sumner's dick.
Sumner was the kind of wimpy guy that Ray used to kick around in school, as Ray had been a big jock. So having to submit to Sumner drove Ray crazy, but we went way easier on him when his work was well done.
And finally Ray got the degree, and then I whipped and caned Ray for every day he didn't get a job in his field, and now he has a great job in demographics, or some shit.
I don't know much about it, of course, I'm just an ex-cocktail waitress housewife, right?
Was I too hard on Ray? Did I lose control and make his life miserable?
Perhaps I was at fault. Sometimes I'd ask Ray to do some household chores for me and in return I'd tell him he could go to the racetrack or to a hockey game with his pals.
But it's a woman's prerogative to change her mind. When I'd inform Ray, after he'd cleaned the gutters and his buds were waiting for him, that he was staying in that night, he'd become enraged, screaming at me.
But then Ray's shoulders would slump submissively, as I walked up to him, my 100 pounds to his 250, unzipping his pants with my red nails, the falling of the strap against Ray's reddening bottom...
And then of course Ray would lie on the floor, weeping softly in humiliation as put him in an adult diaper in front of his grinning b buddies, and put him to bed.
But usually later, after the guys were gone, Ray would get up and take me in his arms and kiss me and tell me how much he needed me and how I was appreciated, so I felt better.
Somewhere around 1982 Ray showed me an ad for a chastity device. He-man as he was, Ray was very aroused by the fact that I couldn't stay faithful to him, and had by now, fucked all his friends.
Also, I no longer really wanted Ray to stick it in me, as it's difficult to get excited by a man you have to paddle, right?
But it was annoying because I'd come home from fucking Earl or perhaps our son's schoolteacher (of either gender) and Ray would have jerked off in a pair of my panties, purloined from the laundry hamper.
We'd argue about this, and I'd paddle him viciously, telling him that I would be the one to give permission as to when he could satisfy himself.
I was also very jealous of his wandering eye. We'd come back from the mall on a Saturday, and I'd order Ray to strip, and tie him to the kitchen stool, and stroke his penis and ask him why he was so hot for the cute girls in the dress shops...and then I'd whip his dick viciously.
Previously he'd spent time at strip bars and ogling girls at bowling alleys, but I'd kind of chased Ray's friends away, as I don't need a bunch of losers playing cards and watching ESPN around my house.
Thus, he stayed home more...but I kept running across dirty magazines, this was the 80's, before the advent of Internet porn.
I'd burn the magazines and punish Ray, but it was constant work. I began taking Ray's paychecks and giving him a very small allowance, and that helped a bit.
Ray's sexual focus became much more on me, which was flattering, although I didn't want to fuck him, of course.
But I didn't approve of masturbation, and I kept finding sticky Kleenex around, and I began timing his bathroom visits. And God knows what he was up to at work.
"I can't seem to stop jerking it, honey." Ray said to me one night, pleadingly. "Let's try this chastity belt thing. It kind of excites me, reading about guys who get locked up down there."
But of course a fortnight into being locked, Ray began bitching and moaning about how horny he was. At first I just kept him locked while I went out and fucked Earl,
And then I'd return and unlock Ray and you know, hand job him, play with his dick while I told him why I found his puny penis unattractive, and that drove him wild.
But then I just began leaving Ray in the belt for weeks and then months at a time. I would get annoyed when Ray was neglecting the chore wheel, and I rather liked the parts of returning from Earl's when Ray would lick out his brother's cum from my vaj, but who has time to do all that unlocking?
The more Ray was locked up, the more willing he was, and the more he did nice stuff like bring me breakfast in bed before leaving for work.
He could be so nice, staring at my tits in my nightie while spoon feeding me as I sat in bed. Ray would also get the kids off to school, and take care of the morning home chores...
And I'd call him at work sometimes and talk sexy to him, which made him very sexually unstable..
One day though Ray began getting upset about how long it had been (about 73 days locked) and he began begging and shouting at me to let him out of the belt.
It was incredibly annoying. I took Ray down to the basement and cuffed his wrists to the ceiling where he'd installed an eyehook, and I left Ray down there for several hours while I went shopping with the girls...
Earl came by while I was gone and whipped Ray's naked ass with a belt as Ray danced around on the ceiling hook. Earl tried to explain to Ray why he should be more grateful to me, and then Earl turned Ray around while he was swaying on the hook, and Earl fucked Ray in the ass...