Letter from Missoula

July 28

Dear Shoeblossom:

So today I was coming back from my business trip in Billings and on the highway home, I drove past a group of motorcycle guys, obvious patched bikers. I waved at one of them, and he waved back, and I pulled over, and he and the other bikers pulled up, probably quite pleased to note an attractive, curvy blonde waving them over.

I stepped out of the car, and made my pitch to the guy who I guess was the um, leader. His name was Phil. I think I might have shocked him. I told him what I needed, and told him that I would be willing to pay for it, as well as pay for the motel room, and to service him and his friends in any way they liked, after it was finished.

Phil, who was a nicer guy than he looked, which was tattooed, bald and scary, insisted I didn't have to pay them—indeed, they'd love the opportunity! "I've had some rough sex." But I told him, that it was important that I paid for my needs, that I needed it quite intensely.

Phil reminds me of my old Master Henry, who once made me take my jeans and undies down in front of his farm hands because I accidentally killed a tomato plant when trying to hoe tomatoes for him...

Master Henry was the first one to suggest to my Mistress that I keep my head shaved so I wouldn't suffer the sin of vanity...

And I remember he seriously welted my full bare bottom that day on the farm!

But I was a little nervous about these bikers. I needed a session, but not to be murdered...but you know, it's not my choice anymore. I need to submit more than I need to breathe!

We pulled up to a real shitbag—Motel 8, or 6, or some number, and I paid for the room and invited Phil and his six friends in.

They stood and looked at me for a moment, while I disrobed, taking off my Chanel skirt and jacket, unbuttoning my silk blouse and then removing my French demi bra and panties...and then I took off my wig.

This might have staggered lesser men, a cleanly shaven head on an otherwise attractive and normal looking woman. But other than a gasp or two, they continued to just stand, dumbly.

I've been good about keeping my head shaved. I remember Mistress Enjoli caught me getting a little fuzzy on top, and she took her carved wooden Hand of Punishment from the wall and he thrashed me over a kitchen stool for ninety minutes before hanging me by my tits from a beam in the garage.

I am lucky Mistress Enjoli let me live at home while I was in business school...

She taught me so much about self-discipline!

But my head was shiny, and the gang members seemed absolutely possessed by my poise as I walked around fully naked in the motel room. I have 36DD breasts and a supple bottom, and certainly fairly long legs—so I think they were paying attention!

I went into my briefcase and took out the cuffs, both for my wrists and ankles.

"Now cuff me and put me straight on the bed, because I'm a squirmer" I said to Phil, and his (sidekick?) Freckles.

"Take out the two foot paddle from my knapsack, that's next to the briefcase, and the razor strop, and give me what I need."

Freckles mumbled something about a safe word and I snickered at him.

"I don't need a safe word." I said, smiling. "If you want, you can gag me, but it's probably not necessary. I'm just going to kneel on the bed here and have you boys cuff me up, and I trust you'll give me a nice hard time.

And if I'm impressed, we'll go to the ATM and you'll be handsomely rewarded!"

I knelt on the bed. I'm about thirty-two, so I'm not THAT young, but I look pretty good, and Phil let one of the barely-twentysomethings put the cuffs on me.

I could tell that he had not been near a whole lot of women, as he was panting a little and being careful with the cuffs—

I was kneeling on the bed with my face away from him as he locked on the cuffs on my wrists and then the others on my ankles.

"I hope these ain't too tight, Miss" the boy said, and I turned to look at him with a rueful smile.

"Sweetie, the tighter the better. Have you ever spanked a girl before?"

But of course he just blushed. My God, he was probably nineteen, and Phil and the other guys laughed.

"Leland is a little wet behin' the ears, Gwyneth, but he's damned willing!" Phil laughed.

"Oh go to hell, Phil" Leland mumbled, but he touched my back hesitantly.

I turned my bald head to Leland and smiled.

"Leland, I've been a bad girl, and I need a spanking on my round little butt...can you accommodate me?

Put a couple pillows under my stomach so you have a good target."

The guys all laughed, but Phil and Freckles did the pillow work, and then they handed Leland the paddle. He was such a sweet kid, with a Mohawk and he was wearing one of those ridiculous jean jackets with the cut-off sleeves...

Leland gave my ass a half-hearted slap with the paddle. I knew he was afraid of hurting me. I turned my head to him, shaking the cue-ball at him.

"C'mon, Leland, you can do better than that—you're not a wimp, are you?"

Leland muttered something about hitting a defenseless bound woman, but then he swung the paddle harder—

Yes, it was a short, thick fraternity paddle, and the second time he swung it, it connected pretty hard, and I could feel the redness gathering in my buttocks cheeks.

"Boys, if Leland isn't up to it, it'll have to be someone else."

I was trying to piss Leland off, I guess, and finally I think I got him. Leland began energetically swatting my buttocks, about thirty times.

I didn't make a sound, and finally, I guess his arm was tired...

Leland had a pretty good swing, but he didn't know how to arch his back and put effort into it, scientifically, like Mistress Enjoli does.

Mistress Enjoli knows where the tender spot is just below my buttocks and my upper thighs, and is smart enough to slash the paddle on secret sensitive spots that always bring me to sure tears...

But Mistress Enjoli is an old adversary.

Phil took up the paddle next, and thrashed me a bit, and then I suggested they take out the razor strop, and use it on my breasts...

He was mystified by the chastity lock on my clitoris...

I couldn't explain that my orgasms are controlled by another, but I promised him so much pleasure with my other orifices—mouth and asshole—that he didn't mind so much.

Of course, I was going to be so horny after serving the guys, and I couldn't even masturbate—

Mistress Enjoli wouldn't allow it—

I had to wait for my chance to masturbate at the end of the month...

But indeed this was a thrill!

For a time Phil and Freckles double-teamed me, one whipping my boobs with the strop while the other attended to my rear—

And then Leland looked a little resentful, so I told him that I'd suck him off ...and if I didn't make him cum in three minutes he could put a cigarette out on my tender breasts.

Just after this, Phil's "girlfriends" blondish twins improbably named Velvet and Violet showed up, and they were jealous, and took turns peeing on me...

Mistress Enjoli would have been so proud...

Later on in the evening, when my jaws were aching from having sucked so much cock, and I had to wipe blood and shit out of my rectum...

The guys were all gone, and I'd tipped them about three hundred bucks each...

I just wanted to masturbate in the motel room, and orgasm, and think about the experience.

And I couldn't!

Because, of course I have the chastity lock on my clitoris. I can toy with it and get really, really excited, but I can't cum.

And that made me sob myself to sleep...

It's so damn frustrating. Ten times as punishing as being beaten and forced to fellate, is not being allowed to orgasm...

Until I see my bitch Mistress at the end of next month...

And then MAYBE I'll be given release.

But probably not. Bitch!

August 2

"Uno!" Carmen screams, before her thorny switch hits my bare ass

"Uno" I repeat weakly, and feel the WHACK! And then "Dos"..."Tres!" By "Cinco" I am weeping softly.

When Carmen cuts a switch from the rosebush in my front yard, she always neglects to cut off the thorns, and I know she does it on purpose.

"I mus' teach ju to mind, Senora Gwyneth, to obey...

To no' make de house a peeg sty!"

But the thorns are always so clinging, they tear the sensitive skin from my tender buttocks, and I cry in misery. I just can't take it!

And Carmen has a back hand. I gave her tennis lessons for Christmas last year, tennis and racquetball, and she really can make me um, sit up and take notice, if you know what I mean?

I mean, she's fifty-three years old, but she's still quite gorgeous, and very, very muscular.

Of course when Carmen first came to work for me, she was all respect and fear, but I had Sondra explain to her what makes Senora Gwyneth tick, and Carmen learned fast...a little too fast! And a little too well.

Carmen is my housekeeper, and when she discovers that I left papers on her clean kitchen counter, its punishment time for Gwyneth, business meeting or no business meeting.

Already this morning Carmen took my pajama bottoms down and whipped my butt cherry red for neglecting to wash toothpaste out of the sink, and then she ordered me to lick her cunt and make her huevos rancheros as an amends...

But I know better than to cross the woman who makes my life orderly. At least I didn't get an enema from her this morning!

A fortnight ago, I was giving a dinner party, and just before my guests arrived, Carmen didn't like the tone I used with the caterers...

And by George, she took me into the bedroom, ordered me to strip.

"But Carmen" I had wailed. "I have guests coming!" My old boyfriend, college pals, it was a serious and exciting party—but Carmen just gave me a cuff across my left ear and I took off my party dress fast.

And Carmen had put me in a bonnet and adult diapers, and had locked me in the bedroom, where I wailed and gnashed my teeth, and Carmen herself gave the party—

She hostessed it...

And I had an eight pm bedtime, except when I had to service the male and female caterers with my mouth when they came into the bedroom...

And they also used my mouth to pee!

I guess Carmen told my friends that I had the flu or was out of town or something,

I felt so angry and frustrated, like when Mistress Enjoli would masturbate me to the point of orgasm, and then lock me in the closet...

But Carmen can be even more severe!

I was afraid that Carmen would get really angry after breakfast and let me have it on my butt with the frying pan, but she just bared her teeth at me, and I made it out the door with only the one thrashing.

Carmen teaches a lesson!

By the time I left for work this morning, I was very gingerly setting my shapely but quite sore derriere into the two-seater Miata...

When I was in the middle of our new project, I had a peculiar interruption this morning. Winslow the mail clerk came into my office, bypassing my secretary, who must've gone for lunch.

Normally I don't interact with Winslow, unless I pass him in the hall.

Winslow is one of those grotesque fat guys who probably live with mom, you know the type.

He wears Vulcan ears to work and spends his weekends at Science Fiction conventions, running around in chain mail and that sort of thing.

Zits, mended glasses, hair that hasn't been washed since the O.J. trial. A very lecherous type and a failure to the human race. I mean, who on earth would be a thirty-seven year old mail boy who's been there 12 years with no promotion?

"Yes, Winslow? What is it?" I asked, a bit irritated.

Winslow grinned and I saw all four of his yellow, mossy teeth.

"I saw you last week at the Thumbscrew Club, getting your butt smacked, Miz Fennelly. Ain't the first time I saw you, either."

My stomach churned. I try really hard to keep my private and job lives apart. It's worked fairly well up until now. God knows, I'm a principal in this firm now and I don't know how it might go if people knew that Ms. M.B.A. hotshot sales director was a secret, semen-sucking submissive.

I looked up at Winslow, bluffing away, and bridled. "Look Winslow, it's none of your business what I do for fun and it was a one-time thing, a bachelorette party thing—"

"Naw, I seen you there before. I'm at the Thumbscrew every weekend, I bartend there wearing a black hood for extra money. Once your master let me put ice cubes up my ass from yer Appletini and then you ate them..

I've seen you peed on, whipped, made to lick up discarded cigarette butts, which saves the Club a janitor, I seen you hung by your tits, and you have nice pierced nipples, and you've eaten shit out of the Men's room toilets.

I was even around for when Master Teaneck did the cool fire ant thing w here they crawled over your naked body chewing away, and you cried and snot came out of your nose. It was hilarious, dude."

I tried looking severely at Winslow, sort of zeroing in on one of his acne pustules expanding on his chin. I was annoyed, worried, and a little excited. Humiliation seems to do that to me, although it really shouldn't in the workspace.

Now Winslow looked at me over my desk. "Guess what I got? I got the box of binder clips you ordered—the little black metal things, they pinch, but you got to pay me a delivery price, Gwyneth my slave girl."

What a gross pig. I looked at him scornfully. "Winslow, I am aware you are already on probation for sexual harassment, and I think you are treading thin water here—"

But Winslow came a little closer, breathing his horrible breath and holding one of the binder clips. I knew that all I had to do was call security—hell, I'm a brown belt and could've put him in the hospital, but then I looked up at Winslow from my sitting position on my executive chair and then looked down at my silk blouse.

If anyone reading this journal concludes I need serious therapy, I don't blame them. I breathed heavily and began unbuttoning my shirt, fast in case Master Winslow changed his mind. After I had my shirt unbuttoned down to my waist, and my big boobs were showing in the rose-colored demibra, I felt his filthy hand come out and yank my bra down hard.

Then he began feeling my full breasts, I guess he'd never touched anything like them before. After all, I used to model, and Winslow really is on the bottom chain of the human race.

And then came the clips. I have to admit, it wasn't the first time I looked at the binder clips and wondered how they would feel on my nipples. I'm a sick girl. Winslow expertly fingered a nipple until it was hard, and then locked on a clip, and then did the same with the other breast.

"These're nice titties" he mumbled, and groped a bit again, gaping with the nearsighted eyes. One of the advantages of my previous dominants even those in the biker gang I picked up recently were fairly cute...but Winslow was not an attractive specimen. Just disgusting. Sweaty, drooling...ugh.

I closed my eyes for a moment and felt Winslow twist the metal binder clip on my tender right nipple, and the pain was sharp. I moaned, and then he pulled up on the nipple and I stood, opening my eyes again. Winslow snapped his fingers and I methodically stripped off my suit, shoes, everything except my black stockings.

Winslow grabbed me by the ear and led me over to the paper cutter blade. "I should cut one of these bosoms off to keep for the guys in the mail room. What do you think, you shit-bag?"

Fully in sub space, I automatically said. "It's your will, Master but if there's some other way I could please you—" So Winslow dropped to his knees and put more binder clips on my shaved clitoris and on my legs.

He toyed with my chastity lock a little bit, and I felt drool hit my stockinged foot. I would probably have to throw these hose out—they were imported from Paris and did not take geek-drool well.

As I stood there, a knock came to the office door, and although I was panicking, Winslow was confident and in full form. He opened it slightly and then completely to let in a little curly haired twenty-something—it was a file clerk, who I'd written up for sloppiness, her name was Ramona Rewbush, and I'd actually recommend they fire her...not such a good idea.

Ramona was a cute little thing and looked at me not with surprise, but with utter contempt.

"Jesus Winslow, what did you do to Miz Fennelly?" Ramona stepped up close and twisted the binder clip on my left nipple.

"I'm just having a little fun" Winslow said, pushing his taped aviator glasses up on his pimple laden nose.

Ramona circled me, swishing her little miniskirt and then came back up front. "Hello Miz Fennelly"

"Hello, Ramona, you can call me Gwyneth if you—"

But my sentence ended in a shriek as Ramona yanked one of the binder clips off my nipple. A tear ran down my cheek, it was so painful.

"What a sissy you are. Crybaby. " Ramona was a mean one.

I tried not to let my lip tremble.

"So what's Miss Rich Bitch doing now? You want to write me up now?" Ramona yanked the other nipple clamp off my right breast and I burst into silent tears. Ramona slapped my jaw lightly. "You know, I didn't get a raise this year, my third in this shitty job. This means I still got to take food stamps, you rich bitch."

I stood there, looking ridiculous, naked except for the stockings and assorted binder clips.

As Ramona was lambasting me, Winslow had gone to the back and was methodically putting more binder clips on my full butt cheeks. My butt is so luscious, and he was worshipping it a bit, kissing it, and forgetting his master status, but...then he'd put on another damn clip!

It was so annoying. I felt like the lower classes were going all Marx-Engels on me, and I had no control.

"Gimme your belt, Winslow!" Ramona shouted, and Winslow pulled it off and handed it to her, and Ramona looped the belt in her little hand and swung it against my already bruised tits.

"This job sucks, but I got too much acne to work at the damn perfume counter at the mall, so I'm a little careless with the damn files, you all are too cheap to computerize anyway—who gives a shit...eight dollars fifty cents a damn hour."

Ramona now swung the belt buckle and it hit me in the stomach cutting me just above my navel. I tried to grab the belt and Ramona slapped my face and kneed me in the groin, and I fell to my knees to the floor of the office.

Ramona tried to grab me by the hair and my wig came off, and my bald head made both clerical employees go into hysterics.

Then Ramona took me by the neck and shoved my face into the carpet, just like Mistress Enjoli used to do before she punished me.

This forced my butt up, and Ramona began whipping my bare ass with the belt, knocking off the binder clips, while making me sing "100 bottles of beer on the wall."

Finally I was covered with marks and welts and then Ramona sat on my office chair, pulled down her panties and made me munch away, while Winslow fucked me in the ass.

Then, after Ramona had cum twice, I was forced to lick my shit off Winslow's cock and suck him to a full orgasm as well. Winslow's brother Wendell stepped into the office, another career mail clerk, and I sucked HIM off, too.

The three of them left, laughing, and I got dressed and refreshed my makeup and went back to work. I just couldn't believe this had happened to me...

Things were busy this morning after the Winslow debacle work, I did well on the business trip, and Mr. Godwulf was very happy. I got a call from Marcie, my secretary that my new Mistress, Sondra called, and I was really excited. I called Sondra back and we made plans to have a late lunch. I told Marcie that I probably would not be back this afternoon, as Sondra keeps me out late...

Of course I was really hoping that Sondra had brought the key to my chastity lock and that she wanted to go back to my place, or even closer to a hotel room...but my sister is a creature of habit, and I knew deep down that Sondra, when she said I was to wait until the end of next month to get an orgasm, she probably meant it!