Letter from High Coombe

Dear Shoeblossom...

I don’t know if my involvement with Satanic Silki is my fault, because of my neurosis? You judge...

First, my parents were weird, warped people. The oldest of us kids, Breanne, became an adulterous bitch, and my brother Brian’s effect was, he was a cruel asshole. And he ran off with my first wife.

I’m Brogan, the youngest, the “sensitive” one. I don’t care about my first wife, or my brother or sister. My second wife, Silki, is all that matters.

Silki is a handful. Since I did meet her through a kinky friend, Mistress Keranique, I felt comfortable telling the comely blonde about my fantasies of serving her.

Silki adapted to this lifestyle in a dramatically quick way!

But I wasn’t her first guinea pig. Silki is an expert at messing with my sensitivity, as well as anyone else’s. (She also fucked my brother Brian, by the way)

I tried everything to woo Silky, despite warnings from my friends to stay away, to find a nice normal gal.

I took Silki to plays and football games and expensive concerts.

We went dancing and did the high end restaurant route.

I took her around the park in one of those horse drawn hansom carriages...

And of course I filled her car with roses.

Finally, Silki fell for me, though of course taking utter advantage of my masochism.

Some months ago, Silki got really bitchy because I didn’t want to go to a clothing optional beach with her.

By the time she finally convinced me to go out bare on the sand, she’d given me several vicious whippings to help me adjust my attitude to this unwelcome event.

I am a sensitive guy, as I said. I never learned to swim, and used to burst into tears in the pool when I was splashed (and this was at age 20.)

But there was something in me that caused me to seek humiliation and shame.

I had worked with Mistress Keranique on humiliation exercises.

Keri had put me through things like jacking off in front of an open window, or tying me naked in a hotel room for the maid to find me, but it never quite primed me for my experience with Silki when she took me to Carnaby Beach!

Now I was walking with Silki, naked...

Silki was clad in a splendid polka dot bikini, and I was wearing only my chastity cage.

There was also a whirring butt plug up my rectal cavity, but at least people couldn’t see that!

“Why, Silki? Why am I naked now?”

I kept seeing people strolling by on the beach, nudging each other and pointing to my crotch.

Even though this was clothing optional, most everyone else opted to wear clothes.

I was the only naked one, as far as I could see, and certainly the only one who wore a damn chastity cage.

In addition to being embarrassingly naked, I was staggering along with the beach bag, and also loaded down with the folding chairs and the umbrella over my arm.

Silki liked to be fancy free when she walked, and only carried her magazine and a bit of sunblock.

“I feel so ridiculous, being the--”

“Look, the website said this was a clothing optional beach, Brogan. I opted that I dress and that you don’t.”

With a gleaming smile, Silki chuckled.

She had these huge Jackie O sunglasses and was truly enjoying the day.

My penis was bobbing up and down and more than one passing girl looked a little creeped out.

“Lookit the faggot with that metal on his junk.” a bunch of (not nude) guys were drinking beer and pointing at me and laughing.

“Do you remember that old ad for Charles Atlas on the back of comic books?” Silki asked me as we walked on.

“My mother didn’t like me to read junk literature.” I said timorously, jumping to avoid a beer can tossed at my head.

“Well, in the ad, there’s a short paneled cartoon about a skinny guy sitting on the beach with his girl, and a bully kicks sand on him in front of his girlfriend.”

Silki giggled. “I think it was called “We made a man out of Mack” ‘cos the kid goes home and gets all muscled up in about a week with these Charles Atlas exercises.”

“That sounds awful.” We finally stopped to set up camp, and of course Silki watched lazily as I put up the umbrellas and the chairs.

“Then Mack comes back and beats up the beach bully, and his girlfriend, who had been making fun of him, finally respects him.”

“Violence is not the answer,” I lectured pompously. “Though I like the idea of him kicking the bully’s ass. I wish I could have beaten up my brother Brian--”

“Yeah, like that would happen.” Silki said dismissively, as I turned red. We were finally sitting under the umbrella.

“Anyway, Brogan, sometimes I wonder how the cartoon would have gone if the bully, after kicking the sand on Mack had taken Mack’s girlfriend and made Mack serve them sexually.”

“How on earth would that be an advertisement for weight training and self defense?” I demanded. “It sounds more like the youth of Caligula or something.”

“I know, it’s just funny.” God, she looked fabulous. Silki had a big hat on and the black glasses and oh, how her bronze skin really set off the light curls.

“I hate people like that. When I was in basic training on Parris Island, my drill sergeant was an evil, evil bully and a sex pervert.”

“Right, you were the ‘goat’ of the platoon, right?” Silki winked.

“Well, every bunk of soldiers has one, I guess. I wish it hadn’t had to be me, though.”

“Your sister Breanne told me that Sergeant Blenciewcz made you dress in full makeup and drag, and blow the other guys in your platoon.” Silki said spitefully.

“Breanne talks too fucking much, but that’s true, and then I got kicked out of the Marines and lost my ROTC scholarship for being sexually unbalanced.”

“Section 8, ‘Nervous in the Service?” Silki laughed cruelly.

“It wasn’t funny, Silki. I was traumatized.” Why was she so mean to me? And why was my cock so hard in the little chastity cage?

Silki poked my cock with her little sandal, and I got very excited. Was it the way she treated me, so sadistically, or just that she was easily the prettiest girl on the beach?

Silki kept prodding my cock with her foot, and she jiggled her tits at me.

As I leaned towards her, Silki pushed me away. “You need more male bonding in your life, Brogan.”

“What?”

“You should go play volleyball with those men, Brogan.”

I looked over there, and yes, there were these big, muscled, blue-collar types, throwing the volleyball and cursing loudly.

And of course they were very tan, as well. Silki was this dark because I supported her, and she spent all day at the shore or at friend’s pools while I worked...

But these guys were just as dark. Doesn’t anyone have a job anymore?

I didn’t like it. I had been cooped up in the office all summer.

I am a compliance officer, doing documentation for a wireless communication company, and don’t leave my cubicle much.

When I was young, Mother didn’t want me playing stickball with the dirty little urchins. She’d always tell me to stay away from the ruffians and stay home...

While Brian and Breanne hung out on the corner, I would help my mother, and was a trained manicurist...sometimes I would do the nails of her entire bridge club!

But, when you don’t get out much, you don’t get sun, and today on the beach, I looked like a toad’s stomach, a walking corpse...that’s how pale I was.

Was Silki really looking out for my best interests, hoping I’d get sun from playing ball with these tanned, muscular young men?

She was peculiar, Silki. Once she claimed she’d been assaulted by a visiting hockey team at a local pub, but then she’d gone looking for them again.

So she really was in search of something evil.

“Again, I think you should engage with these fellows. I want you to play volleyball, I need space right now.”

“I--all those guys are in their trunks.” I protested. “I will look kind of gay, being naked and jumping around after a volleyball, just in this gadget.”

“You’re so silly, Brogan.” Silki said lazily. “Remember when we did that fantasy where you were naked, except for a big bouffant wig and high heels?”

“God, yes.” Aroused and ashamed by this memory, I tried not to look at my growing cock.

“And I wanted to spark it more, so I invited a bunch of my friends over, to surprise you?”

It had been horrible. Well, exciting, too. A couple of her guy pals had been in Auto Shop with me back in school, where my nickname had been Cuntface... The girls and guys had slapped me around and made me dance for them until I cried....

And then I’d jacked off madly in my room as the party went on without me!

Actually for a few days after that experience, I’d re-dressed in the wig and heels, and knelt naked in front of the hall mirror and wanked myself, thinking of my humiliation and staring at my ridiculous image in the wig...

I couldn’t have anything that weird happen again. I was a man, damn it!

“Go now, I’m sick of this.” Silki said. “Go play volleyball, damn it.”

“Are you sure you didn’t pack my swim suit, or even my Bermuda shorts?” I asked plaintively. “I would be willing--”

“I know what’s in the bag. “ Silki said evenly. “One thing I did pack was my fiberglass riding crop. No clothes for you, but a painful crop. Get me?”

So I went to play volleyball. Or it was my intent.

Thinking about how I’d look so ridiculous with my dick flopping around, made me think of the humiliating drag-dance I’d done at the party that Silki had formed for me...

The shame of going up to these thugs to ask if I could play caused me to get an erection.

And the guys were slightly homophobic...hate crime laws haven’t really come to High Coombe, my glorious hometown, I’m afraid.

When I returned to Silki with a bloody nose and a fat lip, she was unsympathetic.

She felt I hadn’t tried hard enough to convince the guys, even if I had been assaulted.

“Honestly, I think you bring these things upon yourself, Brogan.” Silki said, as she lit a cigarette. “Your mom told me that even when Brian and Breanne bullied you, you were the instigator, the nagging little sissy.”

Behind me, the guys were still yelling and pointing at me. They’d almost forgotten their volleyball game.

“This is hilarious. They really think you are a predatory faggot, Brogan.”

Silki looked at me nastily. Really, she could be kind of a bitch.

“Jesus, I should put some sunblock on my tits.” This sudden change of subject threw me off.

I watched hungrily as Silki removed her bikini top.

“Can I help?” I tried not to look too eager.

“No, that’s okay. Actually, I’m going to ask one of the volleyball players to rub the oil on me, and that may calm them down so they aren’t too pissed at you.”

“You don’t have to do that. I’m your husband. No, Silki, what about our honeymoon, our vows--”

Silki chortled and picked up her sun oil and trotted over to talk to a couple of the big lugs.

The volleyball game had dispersed...and son of a bitch if one of the assholes (a black dude, can you believe it) invited Silki to sit down and began applying the sunblock to her breasts assiduously.

Jesus, look at him rubbing his gross Negroid fingers all over Silki’s exquisite nipples.

It hadn’t helped much that the morning before going to the beach, Silki had cuffed me to our St. Andrew’s cross and played with my penis for an hour and a half.

This while taunting me with her tits in a cute little lingerie thing... a Satan inspired thing called the “Dream Halter Corset.”

Waltzing up to me and kissing me full on the mouth while rubbing the scratchy, negligee covered crotch against my desperate penis.

After my binge of jacking my dick while in drag, re-living my humiliation from the party...

Silki had grown worried about me, dancing in front of a mirror in the wig and heels, and then beating my meat...

So she’d put me in the chastity cage for a month...

And that morning she took it off after securing me to the cross...

Faster and faster she’d stroked my month-denied penis until I’d been about to spurt.

Then, just as the explosion was about to happen, Silki had squeezed my scrotal sack with her sharp nails.

And then she’d backed off, and it hurt so much, the sperm trapped, knocking back into my nuts again.

And then came more stroking and some clever manoeuvring with an electric toothbrush right under my glans.

I had been dripping and desperate when Silki had finally re-locked the cage on me, and how painful it had been when she’d stuffed me back in the tiny bars.

“Mr. Finocchario?” My reverie of resentful memory elapsed as I looked up from my blanket.

It was Sandrine, my intern from the office. A carrot topped cutie...she was trying not to stare at my caged cock.

In the middle of trying to explain why I was um, like this on the beach, a deputy from High Coombe county walked up and informed me that I was indecently exposing myself.

As the sheriff’s deputy dragged me up from the blanket, the vibrating butt-plug fell out of my asshole, and Sandrine shrieked!

Apparently, it wasn’t a clothing optional beach at all!

“My bad,” called Silki, waving as I was cuffed and led away.