THE MARINE AND THE SISSY - 3

Issue 23, July/August 1991

3

Gagged Pianist Drools on Panties

Eric flew in from North Carolina yesterday for three days and I have managed to juggle my teaching schedule so I can spend most of the time with him. The really good news is that he is with me and not in the Persian Gulf!

We’re fresh out of the shower after our morning run and my ass is still smarting from the spanking I’ve just received. Eric is pissed that I have not written to you sooner, so I now find myself bound to my desk chair with a pair of leg irons the chain of which is running behind the center post of the chair, keeping my feet pulled back well under the chair. The handcuffs he has clamped onto my wrists makes pounding on this computer rather awkward. Incidentally, I am also naked, except for my sheer black silk panties and a new 3” cock gag Eric is trying out on me.

My Marine Drill Instructor is sitting across the room reading the morning paper with the paddle he forced me to make in college propped up against the chair beside him. It’s made of heavy oak and has some holes drilled in it which makes it sting like hell. I’ve just been given a taste of that paddle and I’ll probably get it again as soon as this letter comes out of the printer. Eric is not going to like my complaining about this gag being wretchedly uncomfortable. The leather piece holding the cock is so wide that it rubs against the bottom of my nose. The cock itself is considerably larger than in the old gag, which makes it quite a mouthful. No matter how hard I suck, I still drool saliva which drips maddeningly down onto my panties. Eric has also strapped it on so tightly that my upper lip is smashed against my front teeth which will probably give me a canker sore.

I’ve just been ordered to tell you why I got spanked earlier. Last evening, when Eric first walked into my house and noticed the infamous paddle hanging on the wall of my studio, he asked me if I had written to you yet, telling you the story of how this particular paddle came to be made. I told Eric that I had already written you so much of the Eric and Dean soap opera that you were undoubtedly sick of it. His answer was that this is your decision to make, not mine. [Thank you, Eric. BW.]

My other transgression also involves a “sin of omission” in that I have not sent you a copy of a really hot couple of pages of bondage scenario from Rick Atkinson’s book, The Long Gray Line. Eric told me to buy a copy and read it several months back, which I did. When we were discussing it over the phone a month ago, I mentioned that I thought you would enjoy the part about Ron Bartek’s experience in Ranger training. Eric had told me at that time to send you a copy which, obviously, I neglected to do. When asked this morning if I had done it, I had to admit my negligence, for which, along with my other sins, my ass is now smarting. I tried to beg my way out of it by telling Eric that, by now, you had undoubtedly read the whole damn book yourself. But, obviously, Eric wasn’t buying! [Thank you, Eric. BW.] Therefore, we will stop by school this afternoon, before mailing this letter, so I can make you a copy of those two pages, hopefully keeping me out of any further trouble.

I’ve just been told that I have exactly five minutes to finish this letter. Any typos Eric finds will, of course, give him additional cause for blistering my ass. It’s been difficult concentrating on this letter, given the discomfort of the leg irons, cuffs and gag, not to mention the disconcerting sight, visible in my peripheral vision, of Eric sprawled out in my Lazy-Boy recliner wearing only a pair of his Calvin Klein jockeys. They’re snow white and about one size too small, which means that they really hug his buns in back and accentuate his basket in front! God, what a sight! Is it any wonder I buy him all his underwear? Like I’ve said before, and stealing a line from I remember not whom, Eric really is the guy for whom jockey shorts were invented. If I’m lucky, maybe he’ll put me on my knees to nibble at the front of those clean white briefs—but it probably won’t happen before I’ve found myself lying across them once again.

Well, I guess it’s time to hit the printer and see what happens. Hope all goes well and that you enjoy the enclosed. Eric sends his best, too.

[The pages from the book are very hot (pp. 209-11 in I’m not sure which edition, for those of you who are interested. But I still don’t know the story of how that infamous paddle came to be made. BW]