Letter From Tacoma

It was remarkable how quickly Dalton went from screwing young women in seedy motel rooms to chastely taking them to Mass, movies or the theater, and then letting them off with a peck on the cheek.

Everyone remarked at the change of Greensboro's most eligible bachelor!

Dalton really felt secure in the belt.

He'd often, even after spending a libidinous night, feel lonely when the girl left...and he'd jerk his dick until he couldn't cum anymore, and go to bed feeling lost.

But with the belt on, Dalton began focusing on other things.

Dalton began working harder in his father's business, and eventually was able to take it over.

He looked forward to his visits to Ms. Snaith (a bit wealthier than Apollo's father, Dalton could go several times a week to visit his dominant Mistress).

Of course, just because Dalton visited Ms. Snaith two to five times a week, didn't mean that he had any advantages over other clients in the orgasm department. I applaud Ms. Snaith for this bit of business genius—

Imagine a rich man coming to your house three times a week, desperate and horny, laying a couple of C-notes on you every time.

You tie him up, take off his chastity device and rub his cock until he's even MORE desperate and frustrated, and then sending him home, re-locked! Of course he's hot to come back, to see if you'll feel more generous.

But Ms. Snaith wasn't terribly generous, certainly not as generous as Dalton was.

Sometimes she'd tire of him trying to talk her into an orgasm...and then she'd pull out a ruler, or some sort of riding crop, and thrash his penis until he cried....and mysteriously, this made him even MORE interested in her.

"It amazed me" Ms. Snaith wrote in an e-mail. "I kept thinking he'd just ask for the key back and go get a normal life, but Dalton was determined to EARN his orgasms.

Perhaps it was because I was the only person he couldn't control.

He'd had tantrums and been spoiled by his parents, girlfriends, his staff at work...and I was the only one who wouldn't put up with it."

Dalton apparently relished having his poor cock locked up in the tight, mean little cage.

He would call Ms. Snaith with descriptions of what it was like to be unable to go to the lavatory at work to masturbate (He had especially treasured getting promoted to having his own one-person executive restroom, and all of a sudden he didn't need it)

Not that all of Ms. Snaith's key holding clients were as prosperous as Dalton was.

In fact, they were quite varied. She had a Greyhound bus driver, a surgical technician, a boat builder, two carpenters, a professor of kinesiology and a variety of other people.

Dalton was Ms. Snaith's most frequent client, but not even one of her favorites.

She had one fellow, a park ranger who brought her fresh wildflowers and wrote her sonnets, and another who was a garage mechanic who also composed songs to her on the flute!

"No one complained about his chastity as much as Dalton did, certainly" Ms. Snaith reported, "But in his complaints, I found him endearingly comical, in a way."

Eventually Dalton proposed to Ms. Snaith, and she acquiesced, with the codicil that she could continue her good work.

But of course Dalton had thought that perhaps he would get extended (sexual) privileges with this marriage, and it didn't work out that way.

As a matter of fact, that was when Ms. Snaith informed Dalton that his orgasms would be even further restricted!

On their wedding night, Ms. Snaith had the wedding consummated by having Dalton anally and orally raped by a variety of young black men who lived in town (This was a big no-no in the Fifties South).

And, although they were married happily for forty years, Dalton was never allowed to penetrate Ms. Snaith's "area" with anything stronger than his tongue.

And Ms. Snaith had other men, in her life, whose keys she held for anywhere from five to eighteen years!

One fellow, Cranston came to her once a month while passing through town for a teasing, a harsh whipping, and bathing and cleansing of his chastity belt and his genital area.

Cranston had a sexless marriage with his wife, and was quite happy to chastely gaze at pictures of the lovely Ms. Snaith until it was time for him to come and visit her!

"Cranston would spend two of our three hours together every month with his head between my thighs, making me squeal with pleasure" Ms. Snaith told me in one e-mail.

"Between his extensive fee and his extensive tongue, I was quite the happy girl!"

Cranston was always appreciative and effusive in his praises of Ms. Snaith whether or not she chose to let him cum on that first day of the month.

Sometimes, especially when she was on the rag, she'd send Cran on his way, to live his lonely life for thirty more days...after of course teasing and cleaning him!

And then now and then, she'd allow him to masturbate into a brandy snifter and drink up his backed-up ejaculate, which was a good exercise for a strapping fellow, don't you think?

Melvin paid Ms. Snaith to lock him in a small closet with a hood over his head, being fed with a tube from Friday to Sunday night, every weekend, in the attic of her house, for most of the Seventies.

He never did get to orgasm, being in chastity 365 days a year, and he had to subsist on anal milkings to reduce the pressure on his prostate.

One guy, a professional football player, asked Ms. Snaith to gauge his orgasms on his win-loss level.

(I can't imagine how he dealt with the belt being on in the locker room).

Ms. Snaith said the fellow averaged about one orgasm every 42 days, and she generally had him cuff his hands behind his back and get off by rubbing his dick against his winning football!

But in the end, it was Dalton who looked after Ms. Snaith her entire life...he was the ultimate submissive, and her full time slave boy.

And the ways she kept Dalton's orgasms few were even more interesting than the way she restricted Pindar, in my opinion!

Pindar was actually rather lucky, because Dalton was on the Marble program, which was why he had not cum in four months.

Ms. Snaith had a box of twenty white marbles and one black marble.

If Dalton's tongue had brought Ms. Snaith to forty orgasms during the week (forty, no less, Ms. Snaith counted them)

AND had done all the housework, and also completed his line-writing assignments (He was copying and construing the first book of Virgil, Latin no less) then Dalton was qualified, every Monday to take a marble, while blindfolded out of the box.

If it was a white marble, and there were 20 of them, no orgasm, just a 3 hour tease by Ms. Snaith...wonderful but frustrating!

And then Dalton would be locked up again. About seven times in the sixteen years they'd been married, Dalton had gotten a black marble out...and he'd gotten to masturbate briefly to an orgasm.

Ms. Snaith also allowed quarterly orgasms, so Dalton didn't have it that badly, but still, four orgasms a year was a cruel sentence...and Pindar should have appreciated the comparatively good situation he was in.

But we never do, do we? We always want more...

Sometimes Pindar would be unable to get Ms. Snaith to give him an orgasm for weeks, and Thursday after Thursday, he would show up, be manacled, and have her meticulously remove his chastity device,.

Then she'd wash it, wash his genitals and shave them, and then stroke and tease him for an hour or so until he was absolutely blubbering.

When he whined too much, Ms. Snaith would take him over her knee, or strap him to a St. Andrew's cross and whip his back and buttocks bloody, and when he could afford an entire weekend session, she would put a hood on him, and lock him in her basement...

There he would service other slaves, who stuck their dicks through the hood.

That and he'd also blindly endure assaults from her various whips, crops, tawses, scourges, paddles and other paraphernalia that welted his body and re-organized his priorities, as Ms. Snaith liked to say.

At the end of one of these weekends, Ms. Snaith would give poor Pindar a violent rogering with one of her huge dildos and this just brought him into abject submission, and kept his ego in check...

Apollo, before going into the circus, decided to break it off with Miss Snaith so he could marry his first wife, Earline.

Their dating ritual went the way most did then, and at some point, when it came time for a bit of "fooling around" Earline discovered the chastity device, and demanded (for she was that kind of girl) an explanation.

What could Apollo do but bring her to his next Thursday appointment with Ms. Snaith? The two women hit it off immediately, and Ms. Snaith encouraged Earline to watch as she went through the manacling, belt removal, cleaning and teasing of Apollo.

Ms. Snaith also "lent" Earline the use of her submissive husband Dalton for the weekend, so she could be trained herself in handling a slave boy...and by the time Apollo was reunited with Earline, she understood the deal.

Earline must've noticed what a selfish, self-centered boy Apollo was—in his relations with girls, he treated them badly, and spent a lot of time, as boys do, drinking beer, smoking doobies, and being a general asshole.

Earline didn't really try to amend Apollo's daytime behavior, except, of course to lock him in the chastity belt.

But in the evenings, she dressed him in crinoline, or stripper lingerie and heavy makeup and had him service men for cash...and donated the money to a variety of important women's causes.

Apollo finally ran away after a particularly energetic party, filled with LOTS of men, where he'd been forced to suck dicks and take them anally AND give hand jobs, all at once for several hours!

For a good decade after leaving his ex-wife's world to live in the world of the circus, Apollo reverted to his old ways of lovin' and leaving' the women, etc...he is, after all that kind of man.

But he had an ingrained submissive streak. It was a powerful one! So, eventually when he was hired away to the circus, his desire to be enslaved returned, and I have continued his wife's good work.

But I had to give you an update, Shoeblossom. You are the sounding board for the world of the submissives!

Best,

Aurora Maher

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Dear Aurora,

Your letter is both informative and entertaining. What would we do without ladies like you to keep the slave boys in line, eh?

Best,

Shoeblossom