Letter From Franklin Cluster

Dear Shoeblossom,

You might remember my mom's letter (how long has your column been going?) "Letter from Pecan Grove" about how she trained me to dominate my dad, or "Letter from Dubuque" when I was living in Iowa with my slave boy, Brantley, Senior...RIP.

I believe the author of "LETTER FROM AMES" another part of Iowa, referred to his initial femdom experience when dating Baylor...He described Bay's Mom, who had a policy of taking down the pants of boys with erections who were about to take out the Princess...

Yes, and whipping their butts till the penises shriveled.

But now I am living in Franklin Cluster with my son Brantley the Second, and my daughter Baylor, and her husband Arlando "Ox" Ochsley, who is a former semiprofessional hockey pro, and quite a physical specimen.

I guess it all started when Ox came in. the door was open, and caught Bay spanking Brant in the kitchen. I was also in the kitchen, in my wheelchair (things have changed dramatically since I wrote you back in the 80's, Shoeblossom).

And it was a sight--Ox was a good friend of Brant's and captain of their Rugby team.

Although we don't encourage Brant to go out with the team for beer afterwards or the requisite waitress-chasing, he'd had Ox and a couple others over for cocoa and a "Dr. Who" marathon.

I liked Ox so much, I'd let Brant stay up two or three hours after his bedtime. It had been nearly midnight when the boys had left and Brant, all of thirty-seven years old, had changed into his Dr.Denton drop-seat pajamas, gone down on both Bay and myself...

My boy has a long tongue! and gone to bed, happy to have pals who as yet didn't know he was a sissy boy.

But Ox had wandered in and gaped as Brant, weeping copiously, wearing only a pair of pink panties, and those at his knees, wriggled and moved on Bay's denim lap...such tight jeans!

And Bay at that time was just hammering away at Brant's bright red buttocks with a small but sturdy saucepan.

Although Brant is busy during the day at Buttermilk Falls Microbiological Resources as executive director, we don't like him to waste his evenings surfing pornography or watching ESPN.

So, since high school, when not studying (and in college, when Brant and the very attentive Baylor rented lodgings near Stanford U.)

Brant has been required to copy a chapter from the dictionary in a small notebook between Sunday night and Saturday morning, after which upon completion, he's allowed 3 hours of recreation on Saturday afternoon, after housework.

Brant has been a good boy, and usually does well, but the "R"s were a bit ahead of him that week, and about half an hour before Ox was to arrive to pick Brant up for football...

Brant was sitting at the little school desk (the kind attached to the chair--we got it at an auction).

Of course, Brant wearing only his pink panties (which he must change into every night to do his copying, one letter pencil, one letter ink in the composition book while Baylor and I enjoy "The Mindy Project" and the Larry David Show in the next room.)

Brant grew to like those panties when he initially wore them in full drag as a bridesmaid in Baylor's first wedding!

So, Brant was trying to get his dictionary chore out of the way, so he could hang out with the guys...

But even though Brant had jumped up at five a.m. (he'd been writing till two am, when he'd collapsed the night before) he'd not been able to finish those troublesome "R"'s.

Part of the problem had been, Bay had torn up several of the pages because she found too much sloppiness...

Although Baylor tosses the completed "letter" of the dictionary when Brant finishes it, she demands good penmanship.

And Bay had made Brant stop around ten-thirty to start chores, and Brant had rushed through the vacuuming, bathroom scrubbing, etc.

Finally he'd pleaded with Bay to let him finish his lines, because if he didn't have them all ready, he would have to tell Ox that he had "stuff" to do, and couldn't play Rugby that week.

But, five to eight minutes before Ox was to arrive, when Brant really should have been dressing in street clothes to beg off his Rugby commitments... Brant had thrown a tantrum.

He was wearing, as I said, pink panties, and also stockings in a garter belt, our Brantie, (or as we call him "Brandy" around the house).

And, in the stockings, his toenails were quite obviously bright purple!

But he'd argued with Baylor ("This is ridiculous, I support you both, I'm pushing forty, and I make nearly two hundred thousand..." blah blah.)

Finally Bay had looked directly at him, in her pink top and faded jeans...Brant's twin, but at thirty-seven...still looks sixteen! (But I'm a biased Momma)

Bay's such a busy girl. She still has two ex-husbands and five boyfriends in chastity, who show up with cash for discipline...but she always has time to deal with her annoying, geeky twin.

"Brant, if you don't like our lifestyle, get dressed, remove the toenail polish and we'll do things that way. Catch up on your TV time...

Or move out, and I can support myself and Mom on my other (giggle) income. Go live it up. You did it once in your twenties, and begged us to take you back the old way."

"B-but can't I just go out this once?" Brant pleaded, looking ridiculous in his panties. Brant's cock was poking through the fabric, as he is chaste on the honor system...

That's another delicious torture of his sisters--every day she sends him various keywords that he may come upon in his work.

In the office, Brant must spend ten minutes jerking himself in his glorious one-man executive washroom. Stopping right before he cums.

Those microbiology words are something else!

"Prokaryotic" (five minutes) "Binary Fission" (ten minutes) "Nucleoid" (Five minutes)

Coming home from work every day, Brant is stripped, spread eagled and tied to his bed, and I wheel up and with the only hand not affected by multiple sclerosis...

No one rubs out a hand job better than Mummy! Especially with my long red nails...

Stroking, pinching and occasionally squeezing Brant's balls or poking a nail in his little pee hole.

I stroke for an hour, and then Bay unties Brant and puts him to work making dinner, cleaning up and then, when he begins his lonely work on the dictionary copying...she distracts him, rubbing her sweatered nipples against his back and reaching into his panties to "play" a bit!

So Brant is a horny boy...

And every twenty-six weeks after the Merriam-Webster Unabridged is completely copied out, Brant has his hands cuffed behind his back and is allowed to rub himself against our cat's clawing post to a brief but satisfying orgasm...

Sometimes the cat gets jealous and lunges for Brant's pecker, but ah well.

26 weeks averages for an orgasm every six months--twice a year!

Bay's ex-hubby Polinger is a professor, and can spend more time copying his letter while the class he's teaching is studying.

So sometimes Pollie can get an entire 26 letters--the whole dictionary--in ninety days, which gives him four orgasms a year!

This somewhat makes up for the fact that since Bay left him, Pol's been unable to date, being locked up, and has been paying alimony for eleven years after six skimpy months of marriage...

Bay has her second hubby, Jean-Louis, copying out the famous French poem, the "Henriade" (very long) .

Yes, and Baylor forces her prep-school grad exes, Danny, Johnny, Dennis, George and Philip working on deponent Latin verbs and translating the books of Virgil and Ovid....

Great Latin texts. Each of those boys averages about two to three unlocked periods of masturbation per annum...

And of course Baylor charges the boys cash for her chastity key holding services as well!

So back to the Saturday afternoon. Brant's wee-wee is poking through his panties, and he insists he likes our lifestyle but wants his way just this once.

Finally, impatient with her twin's tantrum...

Bay tossed her long auburn mane and went to the stove and picked up a saucepan, and ordered Brant over her knee.

Brant tried to rebel, but his sister's imperious blue eyes hypnotized him, and he reluctantly pulled down his panties and bent across her blue-jeaned knees.

"You are getting fifty, Brant. I'm sick of your tantrums."

"FIFTY?"

"Seventy-five."

Wisely, Brant became somewhat quiet after this.

But, of course Ox wandered in... I wheeled out, but as I looked behind me, Brant was kneeling on the floor, his stiff cock up in the air as his sister explained the situation to the amused Ox.

This couldn't have been a big surprise to Ox, who had bullied Brant in the past.

In their youth in fact, Ox had forced Brant to blow members of their varsity football league, although in recent years Brant had proved himself at Rugby, and had gained some respect...briefly.

I looked into the kitchen half an hour later, and no surprise, Brant was greedily fellating Ox as he sat back and chatted with Baylor about local matters.

But, after my nap, I rolled into the kitchen again, and Shoeblossom, what do you know?

Ox and Brant were both wearing pink panties and copying out of separate dictionaries. Baylor looked up over her "Elle" magazine and winked at me...

And that June we had a wedding. Brant just makes a better and better bridesmaid!

Love,

Beryl

Dear Beryl:

The femdom family equation seems to be working everywhere. I am thinking that it might not work in my case, but to answer your earlier question...

I am not that old, but my great- grandfather, the First Shoeblossom, was answering questions from World War I wives who wanted to know how to humble and sissify their soldiers after the boys had been to "Paree".