Letter from Raleigh

When Mother discovered I was not working on my studies, she'd get severe! "Ah hah!" she would say grimly, and she was upon me.

"Now I'm going to tie your wrists together and your ankles, because you'll try to squirm away." Mother would then say with clenched teeth.

Finally I was on my bed and she was bringing the carpet rope thing down on my butt forty, fifty times as I screamed and howled. What was amazing was, Mother could find my testicles and somehow pull them through the back of my legs so she could whip them with the ropes as well, and I just went insane with pain and misery!

Mother's swings often hit the underside of the curve of my buttocks, and she always managed to break skin, amazing with ropes. After there was a bit of blood, she would sigh with appreciation, and stop the thrashing, although my sisters would clamor for more.

Then, a few months into my sophomore year of high school, Mother found my stash of "Penthouse" magazines in the garage. For this offense, she brought out her acetal cane. Acetal is a sort of polyoxymethylene plastic, quite durable and almost as tough as fiberglass.

After she'd stripped me and left marks up and down my naked body with the cane, Mother told me she was taking me downtown to the Scourge Society carpenter's shop for a "purchase". Mother and Dad were experienced players in the Scourge Society, which at that time was Greensboro's premier BDSM group.

The Society had a gift shop and of course their carpentry store, and I was taken down and Mother fitted me for a chastity belt. "I know you are opposed to this, Leary, and I want you to have the same amusements as young men your age—I don't object to your dating, and certainly not to having friends, but I must keep some sort of watch on your sexual activity."

I knew this chastity belt thing was coming—my oldest brother, Spivens "Spats" Hartley Maher the Fifth, had noticed that my grades went up when Mother dominated me,and so he asked if she would dom him as well.

And we both began wearing chastity belts...so we wouldn't be distracted by girls...

I at least went off to school to get away, but not Spats!

And Mother kept Spats at home, as he went to college at Guilford, a Quaker school right in Greensboro. So for a good seven years Spats had the chastity belt on, and Mother released him about twice a month, when he'd completed his home chores and could produce a good transcript for grades.

It was quite a production, and it always amused my aunts, Spats would undress in the living room, right next to Dad, and they would deposit their chastity belts on the coffee table.

Mother didn't give Dad as many orgasms as Spats got; but she cuffed both their wrists behind their backs and gave them each a "massage" every two weeks as they stood trembling with intense desire.

Mother usually did this interesting chore while dressed in a flimsy negligee...I am not sure what her oldest son thought of this, but Dad was terribly attracted to Mother, and would tell her extensively how beautiful she was.

"Really, Earline, you are so wonderful and you look so glorious in that peach body stocking! I am the luckiest man in the world, and so is Spats, lucky to have a mother like you."

Mother would reply as she stroked Dad's pulsating erection. "Now, Spivey, you're quite the flatterer but you won't be cumming this evening. Spats did so well on his Latin essay on Caesar's campaign against the Germans—'Bellicosissi Germani'—very good, dear—and your Geometry—"

Mother looked hopefully at Spats who recited "The square of the hypotenuse of a right angled triangle is equal to the sum of the squares on the other two sides".

"I'm so proud of his good work, and of course he's been playing so well on the basketball team...And he can play the most beautiful Strauss waltzes on his silver Boehm flute...so I'm going to let him have a squirtiee..."

At this, Spats always blushed, and I was somewhat horrified. I don't know if I saw my future then, but it seemed clear that Mother had an agenda.

"But just before, Spats, darling...I've asked you to memorize and recite a piece by Thackeray...so can you do it?" Mother inquired.

This was 1979, and Spats wanted to just be an average college man playing base in a rock band and raising hell...but Mother was determined that he learn the manners of Little Lord Fauntleroy.

And of course Spats was a bit hypnotized by her, even if he was an adult!

Poor Spats begged Mother with his eyes. Was it not bad enough that he had to stand nude in the living room before his entire family, including his clothed younger sisters? But Mother just smiled. "Darling, if you want to wait another two weeks for a squirtee...but otherwise, please recite the Thackeray poem."

Spats winced and then recited

"This I do declare

Happy is the laddy

Who the heart can share

Of Peg of Limavaddy

Married if she were,

Blessed would be the daddy

Of the children fair

Of Peg of Limavaddy

Beauty is not rare

In the land of Paddy

Fair beyond compare

Is Peg of Limavaddy

Mother would jerk Spats off into a little glass, while murmuring "Do you love your Mummy...Mummy hopes so..." and then she would feed it to him while his hands were still manacled behind his back.

Dad usually just got a bit of masturbation and then was locked up...it was rare that he had orgasms. Perhaps Spats should have felt lucky, but I didn't get the impression that he had that perspective...

In time, Spats had high school and college girlfriends, and he would plead on his knees for Mother to lend him the key for a particular date...but no, she wanted Spats to stay pure!

Was that the most painful part of Spats's training? I wonder sometimes. I also remember coming downstairs one evening, dressed to go out, and there's my brother, dressed in a Farrah Fawcett wig and light pink lipstick, wearing a dress from Betsy Johnson, and yup, Mother had shaved his legs. And there are a couple of young sergeants who apparently drove over from Camp Lejeune, one's talking to Dad, in his horrible outfit, and one to Spats.

And when the fellas go out for a smoke, Spats is telling Mother "I don't think I can do it, Mother...please don't make me do this. I don't want to suck that man's penis. Please, Mother don't do this to me."

And Mother ever the whorehouse madam is going "I'm sorry, dear, but if you want to cum again before you graduate, you're going to have to do what Mother says. Or, I can whip your buttocks in front of the young men, would that make you more malleable?"

God I felt so sorry for him, my poor brother Spats. And then I'd hear Mother coaching him. "Darling, it's all about an oral caress of the male genitals. Remember, The softer underside of an erection shaft is usually more sensitive than the sides or top. Remember to warm the head of his penis with your breath, and lick the lower part of the penis, the frenulum...it's so exciting, darling. you'll get good at it, your Daddy did!"

I am amazed my brother didn't go through a nervous breakdown during this time. But he did what he was supposed to do, and he and Dad raised lots of money for the Greensboro Hospital Committee with their good work, so who am I to criticize?

It was of little surprise when Spats also cut his chastity device off, and ran off and joined a traveling carnival as a roustabout, and we've not heard from him since. But that didn't discourage Mother!

But when the chastity belt time came for me, I was barely ready for it...sadly enough!

Putting a chastity device on a healthy teenage boy can be interpreted by some as being an absolute act of barbarity...All young guys do is think about girls and masturbate constantly, and I was no different.

And I was on the football team, and had lots of girls flirting with me, and one girl, Tempest, I was dating on a fairly regular basis. Tempest was a curvy girl with bouncing honey curls and she loved climbing on my lap and shoving her tongue in my mouth!

Drea, who knew my secret, would always laugh behind her hand as Tempest would begin making out with me. For Drea knew that I was suffering, as my poor cock was completely constrained by that evil chastity device!

Now and then Mother would remove the device, after she'd bound my hands behind my back of course. Mother was a strict hygienist, and would drop me in the bathtub and then order Drea to wash and shave my pubic area completely, so I would not get any infections when the chastity belt was locked back on.

Drea was quite a hottie herself, and she would tease me mercilessly, telling me how she was sure that Tempest would enjoy knowing that I had to be bathed like a baby, by my younger sister!

The dates with Tempest were incredibly frustrating to me, and I didn't have as good an academic record as my brother, nor was I inclined to impress Mother with feats of poetry or music, and so on the bimonthly "massages" Mother generally unlocked me, and rubbed my penis into abject stiffness, while soulfully looking into my eyes and asking why on earth I couldn't "please Mummy"

I am embarrassed to say that sometimes I would throw a fit, while my hands were manacled because I was so frustrated at not being able to cum.

"Please, Mother, you're killing me!" I'd scream as Mother would be patiently bending over my erection, her gorgeous cleavage flashing in my face, while she rubbed and stroked my frustrated penis.

"Now now, darling, you know I can't help you out" Mother would say in her Southern drawl, "After all, you got a quite mediocre 87 on your Precalculus quiz, and you're not doing nearly enough studying. You spend a lot of school nights out driving around with your friends."

It was true, but often I was driving around watching my father do his unpleasant duty as a transvestite hooker...I had to see it! And this had been making my grades suffer considerably.

Finally I would shriek at Mother, who was giving me an endless light fingered massage, and then she would tell me sorrowfully that she was going to have to punish me for my disrespect...and she'd bring out her long, thin switch from the elm tree in the front yard!

WHACK! THWACK! SMACK! SNAP! The switch would come down on my frustrated erection until I was weeping for mercy, and then Mother would turn me across her lap and welt my bare buttocks until I was howling and crying in complete misery and humiliation...

Drea and Maura always found this to be hilarious, and I just didn't understand why the women in the family were so completely cruel!

Once, after Dad had thrown a similar tantrum, Mother bound our testicles together and locked us in the cold basement, and then she took the girls out to Chippendale's, a male strip dancing club. I was sure the Chippendale's guys were gay, but it was still a terrible insult.

"Dad, how can you put up with this?" I pleaded with my father as we crouched back to back, our balls touching as they were so effectively cuffed together.

"Well, you know, Leary, it's really my own fault" Dad said haphazardly. "I got Mother interested in BDSM and I got my own dominatrix, a Ms. Snaith, to work with Mother and have me trained. I never wanted you boys to be involved with this, but sadly, this was what happened...Mother is a bit of a manic depressive, and has taken on female domination as a full-time child raising philosophy!"

And you know, I talked Dad to death that night, and persuaded him to help me out a bit. He remonstrated with Mother, and told her that I didn't want to become a male prostitute, and I wanted to control my own orgasms, and that she had to give it up, or I would run away like my brothers did!

And Mother took my belt off, finally. I was able to live in peace, and I went to college and began my career as a bonds salesman, and moved to Raleigh...but Mother left a bug in my bonnet, or a bee, or some such.

I met Pebbles and her sister when I was shopping in a local bookstore, the Sadomag, and of course you know what happened next. And no one was happier than Mother when I called and informed her.

So I am a happy but reluctant slave boy, and I guess that's the way it must be!

Leary

Dear Leary:

I have heard from so many men in your situation, and no, therapy doesn't help much. So you'd better just stick with your situation, and hope for the good life...it's there for you, in a way!

Best,

Shoeblossom