Letter from Vancouver

Dear Shoeblossom:

Having enjoyed so many of your letters from BDSM enthusiasts in the States, I thought I would tell you about my husband, Conrad, the Canadian Cuckold. (Catchy?)

My husband Conrad and I are at the Levinger's party, socializing, but of course he is almost ignoring all the other women there, he just gazes earnestly, plucking my arm...he is in LOOVE with me!

I am busy in conversation with Grigsby and Gail Gorlitz; Grigs is secretly my toilet slave-we meet in a hotel room once a month so he can roll in my shit, and his wife and I have been having a lesbian affair for years; neither knows of the other's participation in my life.

But Conrad, my husband, is riveted to me, and of course I must attend to him.

I feel his eyes on my thick dark curls, my full lips, and high full breasts. He hopes he can please me, and maybe he'll get lucky tonight.

Getting lucky isn't like other guys get lucky...Con doesn't get laid...but maybe I'll let him rub his long chaste cock against a piece of rough sandpaper until he spurts, and his wee-wee is all bloody and injured. That's the best he has to hope for!

But the way he looks at me, you'd think he just started dating me last week instead of us having been married nine years.

When we married, I was a nineteen year old club girl-cocktail waitress and he was a thirty year old bookkeeper, and I still look like a club girl! That might be part of the fascination...or his not being allowed to cum much...that might be what pumps up his jam.

But now at the party, I look into Con's eyes, and I know he's hot to please me. I signal him to follow me up to the host's bedroom and I stare intently at him.

"You are my husband and my slave. Will you do something for me, if I command it?"

Now he's scared. Will I require that he drinks out of the toilet? I've done that one before.

But Con stares back earnestly. "Of course Sagesse darling. Anything you want."

"Conrad, I'm going to invite one of my male friends to come in here, and I want you to suck his penis...that's right, here at this party. Is that all right?"

Conrad begins sweating a bit. "Sagesse, please, this isn't one of your kinky events, dear, I don't think—"

I step a little closer and grab his nipple through his Oxford shirt and twist it violently. "I asked you if you would do as I asked, Conrad. If you don't feel like pleasing me—"

Con winces as I let go his nipple. "Of-of course I will do anything you want, just don't let Philippe [our host] find out, all right?"

I beam at Con. "You'll be well rewarded. Now I'm going to invite Ryan in here, and I want you to fellate him and let him cum in your mouth. Don't worry about the health risk, I'm sure Ryan's all right. He's a Virgo." I pause. "I know you don't' want to do this, but I'm asking you, and I hope you'll please me, and I want to please you."

Con's face has fallen and he looks sad. "Of course, I will, Miss Sagesse." But then he brightens. "And-and maybe later—"

I smile winsomely. "I can't make any promises, but you know how I am when I'm in a good mood, dear." I pat his arm. "Now take off all your clothes and kneel here while I call Ryan."

Con is even more upset that he must undress. What if one of his precious business friends walks in and sees him kneeling?

"Darling—how about just taking off my shirt or something, I mean really—"

Stepping up, I not so slightly knee Con in the nuts, and he buckles, apologizes, and quietly undresses. God, Con's a blusher. It's astonishing; he's like a stop light or something.

Ryan is a friend of both of us, he and Conrad co-coach our daughter's soccer team...and the look of amused contempt on his face when he comes into Phillipe's bedroom just destroys Conrad. But perhaps Con could derive some amusement from the fact that Ryan likes having his dick sucked by another man?

After Con's sucked our friend Ryan's dick...now he and Ryan will no longer be buds, the relationship will forever have changed—we go home, (Ryan is following us in his car, but Conrad doesn't know this)

Con is thinking that I will be nice to him when we get home but I coldly tell him that he didn't do a good enough job with Ryan, that he was lackadaisical in sucking Ryan's cock. I order Con to strip and lie on the bed in the small guest room.

I bind his wrists and ankles, and I get the razor strop and make his buttocks, back and lower thighs a mass of red and purple welts. And then I turn Con over, and take off his chastity device, and just rub the tip of his cock with my little finger, and it stands straight up.

By that time Ryan is in our house and watching the scene from the bedroom door. I get up and leave Con there, stark naked with his dick standing up.

"Good night Conrad" I say as Ryan puts one arm around my shoulders and lays his other hand on my breasts (a forbidden area for Conrad). "We're going into the master bedroom, so I can get some real pleasure. You are such a disappointment as a husband.

And as we shut off the light, Con cries!

A memory: We are in The Bay, a large department store here in Vancouver, with Conrad, and I see a pink button down shirt that I'd love him to wear. "Honey, I want to buy that for you, and I want you to model it for me."

Con looks at the shirt with disdain. He fancies himself to be very macho. "Sagesse, that's a woman's shirt, I think. Not that I couldn't wear a pink shirt, but—"

"No no..." I smile at Con. "All clothes are unisex, or so I believe. Why don't you try it on? If it looks good on you, you can wear it to your Board meeting at work on Monday."

Conrad shakes his head. "I have to look my best on Monday. I can't look ridiculous—" I take Con not so gently by the ear, and grab the shirt with my other hand, and waltz him to the dressing room with the entire store watching, salesgirls giggling, etc.

What is comical about this, is Conrad is only working at my sufferance. I got him hired by Silverlode Coggs, who comes to my house one afternoon a week for a blistering bare-bottom spanking...he'd hire a chimp as his accountant if I ordered it!

But Con is happily unaware of this, and thinks he must impress Sil Coggs. It's actually impossible, but let him believe he's a puffed up hot shot, why not?

"Sagesse, this is not the time for you to—" When we get into the changing room, I briskly unbuckle Con's pants and yank them down, and sit on the small bench, pulling him down across my lap, going through my purse in a businesslike fashion to get my faithful large hairbrush.

Forty whacks later, Con is weeping, and buttoning up the feminine shirt, which indeed looks to be a woman's blouse. (It was found in the Young Ladies' section, after all.) Of course he can't wear it to work, but I love threatening him.

"What's wrong, Conrad? If I want you to, I could make you go to work wearing a cocktail dress, couldn't I? You'd look so cute." I hiss as my face gets close to his.

"I should put makeup and nail varnish on you and have you prance around in front of your big, masculine office for an hour or so. You could be the world's ugliest receptionist."

Wasn't that a charming interlude?

On another day, Conrad is pooh-pooling my concerns because our daughter is homesick from day camp, and he says she shouldn't be such a crybaby.

This irks me. "You're a crybaby yourself sometimes, Conrad."

He doesn't hear the edge in my voice... "No I'm not, Sagesse" Conrad says. "I hardly complain at all, and I always give you your way!"

I smile at him. "I'll bet you that you're wrong." When we get home, I order Con to go upstairs and come back down with his handcuffs, dressed only in his underpants. Conrad has a look of trepidation on his face. "Wh-what did I do wrong, Sagesse?" This is a fair question, but I just beam at him and repeat my request.

He comes back down, eyeing me nervously. But of course appreciatively too, as my firm, full breasts are encased in a pale blue turtleneck sweater. I am the ultimate in femininity, and Conrad knows it. "We're now going to prove that you really are a crybaby."

"N-no, I didn't mean you can't make me cry, I just meant that I don't complain a lot-you-you don't have to—"

But I smile sunnily at Conrad. "I'm out to prove my point dear. I suggest you cooperate. I was thinking you might like to masturbate this evening, right?"

And of course he'll do anything for THAT privilege!

So Con hands me the cuffs and I lock his wrists and turn him over the sofa, pulling down his underpants before fetching my scourge, with the metal stars attached to each tail.

"Puh-please, Sagesse, I-I didn't do anything wrong, and I've been trying to stay on your good side—"

I whip Con's bare buttocks relentlessly, until he is screaming and sobbing in abject pain. It's true, my husband is peaceable, well mannered and goes out of his way to please me and not complain, but by George, I can prove he's a crybaby if I want to!

And by the end of ten minutes, Conrad is weeping, snot is running out of his nose, and after I unlock his arms, he is grabbing my legs and sobbing and admitting that yes, he is a worthless crybaby!

I knew he was. It will make him more compassionate to our daughter's needs, don't you think?

What I love about dominating Conrad is, that it doesn't take a lot of expensive equipment—sure, I got a good, strong chastity device, and a few scourges, whips and other implements, but it's amazing how much good work can be done with a simple stainless steel, one inch wide shish kebab skewer.

I can bind Con up, naked as a jaybird and tease his easily excitable cock until it's bulging happily...and then THWACK it with the metal skewer four to eight times. And then of course I begin rubbing my fingers on the cock again, making it full, pulsating and frustrated once more.

And then I can also POKE the poor wee-wee with the sharp end of the skewer, and that tends to calm my boy Conrad down quite a bit!

The big goal is to get Con to go limp on command, as he has such a rebellious member. It's the only rebellious thing about him. He does almost everything I tell him to, but when he sees me, and his dick isn't locked up in the chastity device, it stands straight up like a saluting soldier!

Of course this can be taken as an act of respect. I should be flattered...but my friend Marcie can snap her fingers and her husband Willis's dick just wilts on command. This, of course took much training and punishment on her part.

I have been able to train Con to kneel perfectly still while I walk around in front of him scantily clad as they used to say in the fifties—I challenge him to move. But his dick goes up, it's an anarchistic member, you see.

When he's kneeling still, I test him in other ways. I'll put duct tape all around his cock and balls and RIIIP it off, tearing off much of his pubic hair, and if he yelps, he's beaten...for he's got to learn about mind over matter, don't you see?

Sometimes I'll run an electric toothbrush on the underside of his stiff cock as he kneels in front of me. His eyes are straight forward and he is trying not to move a MUSCLE, but you can tell there's an inward struggle going on...it's arousing having the infernal brush irritating the frenulum, and it's also quite ticklish.

Once, he was able to stay still, utterly motionless while I ran the brush, but then he came, in huge spurts. (He had been denied for 108 days) and of course that couldn't be tolerated. I punished him by driving him out in the woods near our house and leaving him naked, and handcuffed with the keys to the cuffs in a block of ice.

Poor Con had to wait for the ice to melt, and then unlock his handcuffs and then dart around under hedges and behind trees, so he wouldn't be arrested before he came back to the safety of our home. (And I locked the high fence so he had to climb over accompanied by the derision of the laughing adolescents next door.

I can torture Conrad's nipples with automotive hose clamps, tweezers, stick pins, thumbtacks, electrical wire ties, vice grips (really, really painful) and of course binder clips and clothespins.

Conrad is absolutely possessed by my body. My tits and ass just do something to him, it's almost frightening, the power I have. One fun thing I love doing is tying poor Con over a hassock, naked, and rubbing my full buttocks up and down on his hard, long denied cock.

He is not allowed to rub back—that would be tantamount to disrespect, and I won't tolerate it. If he can cum by just feeling my soft cheeks causing friction against his weiner, so be it, but I am too smart to rub for that long.

Titty-fucking Con is also fun, but of course I must be even more careful. More than once, before I locked him in the chastity belt, I'd find him jacking off while kissing one of my lacy bras!

Now I can manually fondle Conrad's dick and arouse him totally, while being deft enough not to let him have a release without permission. During the holidays, (Christmas, really) I am more generous, and Conrad and I make love now and then...and after he's cum in me, he must go down and lick it out...disgusting, eh?

Sometimes, though, the sight of his rock hard member is annoying to me, and I'll whip it with a belt or my wooden spoon. Con has been trained to kneel motionlessly, as I mentioned before, but of course when the cock-whipping is going on, it is much more difficult for him to maintain this pose. I am disappointed that he is not better trained in this area.

Even if he grits his teeth, that counts as having changed his posture, and it makes me so angry. When I want a motionless slave, by George, that's what I want.

Sometimes, after many months of chastity, I will take Conrad to a strip club, and hire girls to give him lap dances—to writhe naked on his lap, and I order him to keep his composure. This is invaluable, I think, in making him a more self-controlled being.

From time to time, I have allowed Con to fuck me, and forbidden him to cum. This is very difficult for him, but it allows him to give me maximum pleasure, and is an excellent exercise in self-control. I just wish he didn't weep so miserably during our after glow, when I've had so many orgasms and he's still stiff and frustrated.

That's' why largely, I find my pleasures elsewhere. There are lots of other guys who I can let spurt over and over again in me...and I don't have to worry about the rules I've set!

Shoving frozen grapes up Con's butt while he is kneeling motionless is often an interesting challenge... and speaker wire is good for whipping his sorry ass, and making him scream like an injured woman!

But enough about my loser husband. He is not the only shot in my gun! I also dominate his boss, and I'm damned good at it!

As I said earlier, I have been having a long-term "fling" with my husband's boss, Silverlode Coggs. Conrad is a pitiful creature who must be belted to stay chaste, but Sil has quite a bit more discipline...so I let him masturbate all he likes!

And I call him in his office, to see how he's doing. My husband and all the sycophantic staffers are busily humming away in their cubicles, while the Big Boss has locked his door to his magnificent office, and is naked, on his knees, clothes piled next to him, jerking his dick and talking to me.

It's tough, rubbing and pulling his wee-wee constantly, and not being able to cum. And I tease him, constantly.

"Silverlode darling, do you want to cum? I bet you do...you'd love it if you could get me to put my full lips around your sex-starved cock, wouldn't you?" I breathe throatily, and hear his gasp over the phone. "You'd love for me to lick and suck those swollen balls...it's been what, 93 days since I let you have a squirtie?"

And then I laugh. "Too bad we're not at your house, and then I'd have you with your red nail polish on, the mousetraps on your nipples, kneeling on broken glass and jerking yourself with a rubber glove rolled in honey and nettles...that was so painful last Saturday, wasn't it?"

"Yes, Miss Sagesse" comes the strangled reply. I can tell that he's having a hard time. His breath is ragged and he is forcing himself to rub his dick just a little slower. God help him if he has an accident, right?

Yes, last weekend was wonderful; watching poor Silverlode jacking his swollen organ with the rubber glove with tons of nettles sticking to it was priceless. The broken glass was cutting into his knees, and I told him that if he could reach orgasm in five minutes, it was his...but of course he couldn't take being on his knees, having his dick tortured that long. Wimp.

I am extensively cruel to Silverlode. Probably the cruelest thing I've done to Conrad lately involved his weekly cleaning—I rarely tease Con anymore, and so the only time my hands are on his dick, briefly—is when I clean his penis and balls while he's tied.

And of course after I clean the genitals and the chastity belt, I lock it right back on him, sans orgasm. But he does get the pleasure of my delicate white, manicured fingers on his dick briefly.

But last week I hired an overweight homeless man to clean him and lock him back up again, and Conrad was quite depressed!

But Con would be considerably cheered if he knew that I hired that same homeless man to cum in his boss's mouth, just because I felt like it!

It's really good for Sil to suck dicks. I try to get him to do about eight or nine dicks a month. He keeps hoping that I will have mercy on him because he's being so obedient in these odious activities...and I might fuck him, or even let him jerk off, but performance has nothing to do with treats. Like a hunting dog, I want him to do it for the joy of the thing.

I have been training Silverlode for twelve years now...I've only been married to Con for nine, and it embitters Sil that I didn't marry HIM. But Sil's an old geezer of forty-seven, and Con is younger and has much more energy. 'Course I won't fuck either one of them, ha ha.

Sometimes I go and visit Sil, I don't have to pass Con's office to do this...I bring my nice whippy cane and as soon as I've called Sil from the car, I know he's stripping and getting ready for me in his office. By the time his secretary lets me in, Sil is naked with his head pressed against the Oriental rug.

I love pulling Sil's balls out from between his legs, and then taping them upside down to his butt...and then I go at it with the cane! Sil clenches a washcloth in his mouth to keep from screaming. It's really good for him to re-prioritize his issues with pain.

Because of course, he should welcome pain. He should be grateful that I bring him a little bit of true sensation, so he's not just a corporate vacuum.

Sometimes I make him get up and put his penis in the paper cutter, and then I threaten to just CHOP it off with that big blade. "C'mon honey...don't you think you're sick of your wee-wee by now? After all, you're always complaining that I won't let you cum, Silverlode. Maybe if we just cut it off and threw it out the window, it would bring you some relief, baby!"

And Silverlode will cry and beg me not to do it, and of course then I just let him kiss my feet...and then I pull my panties down and let him lick me until I've cum about ten times, before leaving the poor fool in his office, utterly mystified by how much control I have over him!

As I leave, I stop and have a brief exchange with Sil's secretary, 28 year old Roxanne Huff-Voss, who is in on the secret. I instruct her to punish Sil by not giving him the key to his private bathroom until five o'clock, so if he has to pee, he should suffer a bit...

I had to pluck several hairs from his genital area, which was painful,but I ordered him to shave it, and he was negligent, so not being able to urinate is the penalty.

Roxi is happy to help! Her dad Herdrich is one of my submissives, and when I first met Roxi, she was an angry 25 year old, with no goals in life, and so I got her into being a dominant secretary, and then she trapped Gaylord Voss, one of the firm's P.R. men, into a chastised marriage. So now she is sitting pretty, and in return for my kindnesses, she helps me torture Silverlode!