Candy Floss and Mistress Pamela
Hello again. It’s the ebony, black (and beautiful) Miss Pamela writing to you again to give you the latest, up-to-date report of the goings-on in my household with my two slaves. My handsome Jamaican fiance Royston and my sweet little she-male maid Candy Floss. Most of my report has been covered in previous letter to you, with one or two notable exceptions.
I was talking to my darling sister Nikki the other day on whether T.V. boys made better slave-maids than real girls. Nikki and I had just finished a hard work-out at the local gymnasium and were sitting in the gym coffee shop still wearing our skimpy leotards, two black chicks showing off our athletic bodies and ample charms, teasing all the lustful men. As Nikki has always said, “If you’ve got it girl, flaunt it.” I told Nikki I had no objection about girls being forced into slavery but I, personally believe, that pretty young boys, taken at an early age can be trained, conditioned and transformed into lovely maids to spend their lives in enforced servitude to their superiors. Candy Floss is one such she-male maid. Having been orphaned in her early teens she was put into an orphanage where, she had years of being taught what a waste of society she was. She was on a contact site as a submissive. Perfect for our plans as she had no family. Candy was rescued by Royston and myself and has become our dim-witted, hard working feminine maid.
In fact, the only reminder she has that she was once a male is her tiny penis between her legs, permanently restrained and completely redundant.
Although Royston and I make use of Candy sexually she is taught that it is for our pleasure, not hers, and she will never be allowed to have an orgasm, serving her attractive black owners should be pleasure enough for our shy, timid little slave maid. When I first came into possession of Candy, I set myself a 5 year target of making her completely impotent. This has meant a tearful caning each time her little penis tries to erect inside its chastity device. To start with this meant every time I used Candy’s tongue for my intimate pleasure, but she is learning. The conditioning is working. I am accelerating the conditioning by often having Candy moisturise my whole body after I have showered or bathed. A tearful caning normally follows the moisturising. My firm thighs, my shaved labia, my heavy breasts and my firm shapely rear all test her rule of impotence. But each caning is her fault.
If she keeps her little encased penis flaccid, she does not get the cane. It is her choice.
In previous editions of your magazine a Ms G.P. of Portsmouth (my mentor) and a Joan of Birmingham told how they have their male maids dressed in rubber outfits and overalls for work and domestic duties. Very practical I agree, but I have Candy will wear her knee-length plain, cotton, maid’s dress when I send her shopping or on the bus to my sister’s house. At home I like to dress my maid in short little French maid’s outfits for housework or serving me and my family and friends. She looks so cute mincing around the house in her high heeled booties, showing off her knickers and stocking tops as she walks, while the plunging neckline shows just a little cleavage of her perfectly formed, tiny breasts. I am sure Candy would rather wear less revealing and more modest clothes but knows I would never allow that. Her sweet feminine body is a perfect example of how a boy can be transformed into a silly bimbo girl, and once they make the change, she-male maids are more docile and more obedient than real girls and easier to control. Candy is just seven stone and weak as a kitten, due mainly to her regular dose of female hormones and has become very insecure and emotional and cries a lot. Although I use pain, (or the fear of pain) to control both Royston and Candy it is sometimes amusing to show Candy a rare moment of kindness – the other side of the coin, so to speak. For example, only last week after Candy had given me a relaxing massage and a session of oral worship to my body, I took her by the shoulders and saying “Good girl” to her I gave my surprised maid a kiss on the cheek, then sent her back to her domestic duties with a light pat on the bottom. She seemed so happy by this simple act it was like a dream to her but I brought her back to reality an hour later when, after needing to call her twice to mix me a drink, I had her touch her toes while I gave her six stinging strokes with the cane.
From being an avid reader of your magazine for many years I have found several interesting and helpful ideas in ways of humiliating your slave and keeping them subdued. It seems some owners like to economize on toilet cleaner and floor polish by having their slaves lick clean toilets, baths, floors, doorsteps, patios etc, and while I don’t disapprove (they are your property, after all) 1 like to keep Candy’s mouth and tongue fresh and clean for those more intimate duties required of her. It is because of this I didn’t fully approve of a spiteful little game my niece had devised to amuse herself. Unity has grown into a fine young lady and has high hopes of going into modelling and becoming the next Tyra Banks or Naomi Cambell. In the morning I had sent Candy on the bus to my sister’s to clean for her and, after going around the clothes’ shops and boutiques in town I decided to have tea with my sister Nikki and collect my maid. Candy had a lot of chores to do for me that evening. After a hard day’s work for my sister and her family Candy goes home, changes from her plain outfit into a short maid’s dress, and continues with the never-ending housework, working her little butt off while Royston and I relax in front of the television, or watch a sexy video, getting us really turned on and ready for bed (and not to sleep). The sight that filled my eyes when I entered the back door of my sister’s made me burst out laughing. Candy was kneeling on the kitchen floor, naked except for her maid’s cap, stiletto booties and her jewellery – ear and nipple rings, her silver belled collar and steel penis lock. She had her head down and her bottom high in the air. Candy, tears dripping from her cheeks, was busy licking a pair of my niece’s trainers while Unity stood behind her, flexing a thin cane. Candy had several bright red weals on her bottom that weren’t there that morning. Unity looked absolutely drop-dead gorgeous in her tight jeans and sleeveless blouse. Her long black afro hair framed her pretty face and light coffee – coloured skin.
“What’s the stupid bitch done now?” I asked. Unity gave me a mischievous smile.
“Oh Auntie Pam, she’s useless, I asked her nicely to clean my shoes and she made such a bad job of them I’m making her lick them clean. I hope you don’t mind?” I looked at the shoes which seemed to have been polished to perfection.
“Of course, I don’t mind honey, she must leam to do as she’s told.” Unity brought the cane down across Candy’s bottom with a loud crack.
“Lick harder you lazy slut,” Unity said, then added with a little giggle “and don’t forget to lick the soles Floss, I took a short cut across the park today and I think they’re muddy.” Crack, Unity brought the cane down again and my tearful maid howled and licked the shoes for all her miserable life was worth. I wondered if Unity really knew the pain she was inflicting on my poor slave maid, probably not and most certainly didn’t care either. I was sure six of the best with the cane on Unity’s soft bottom would show her just how painful and effective a good caning is, but, of course, that will never happen.
Like most young girls of her age. Unity had experimented in sex. Unity despises male wimps and loves to find ways to humiliate and degrade them, but she is fond of big, strong and assertive boys and will act all coy and girlish in their presence.
After tea with Nikki and her family, I drove Candy (dressed once more in her cotton uniform) home with me. How she loves travelling in my warm, comfortable B.M.W. instead of on the bus, in full view of the public. The first thing 1 had Candy do when we got home was to brush her teeth and rinse her mouth out with anti-septic mouth wash. Then she changed from her cotton dress to an ultra-short uniform and returned to her never-ending domestic duties.
I went to my bedroom and unlocked the door. Royston was as I left him, naked, lying on the bed, his hands tied behind his back and his ankles tied together. I had also blindfolded him with one of my silk scarfs. I had tied him up and left him all afternoon for my amusement and to emphasize my controls over him, and because there was a live football match on the television I knew he wanted to watch. I took off his blindfold, slipped out of my simple silk dress and climbed onto the bed next to my big fiance. I kissed and caressed him and pushed my tongue deep into his mouth, my warm, naked body and heady perfume made Royston become rock hard. I whispered in his ear that I might let him watch the football highlights that evening, but only if he pleased me. I untied his bonds and Royston didn’t need telling twice, and without bothering to put any clothes on, we went downstairs for the evening meal that Candy had prepared for us. As we ate, our maid cleaned the shower after us, picking up the damp towels. She replaced them with clean dry ones, making sure the lines and patterns on the towels matched exactly. In the bedroom she picked up my dress and changed the sheets. She put the soiled sheets to be washed, then Candy sprayed the room and turned the bed covers down, ready for us. I am sure Candy would love to sleep in a comfortable bed every night instead of her pink sleeping bag on the cold kitchen floor. My little maid has very few creature comforts but at least she has a roof over head and a purpose in her life – that of a domestic slave to a lovely black couple, and though we don’t treat her well, she is very handy to have around the house.
Candy Floss has served me diligently for nearly eight years now and I mentioned in my very first letter to you, that I hoped to get at least ten or twelve years of hard, unpaid, work from her before we need to replace her with a new, younger model. A cute sissy boy or girl maid, easily available on the Fem/Dom network. Although our new slave maid will have the basic housework skills, it will be Candy’s job to train her replacement to the very high standards required of her by her new, black owners. When we first acquired Candy, both Royston and I were fairly inexperienced at owning a small, young she-male and I mentioned in my letter that we were a bit lax and easy-going with her, only punishing her for serious faults, letting her eat when she didn’t really deserve to and even allowing her to talk. (If Candy were to speak now without permission I would coat her tongue with hot pepper). Being too lenient with Candy was a mistake and by becoming much stricter with a lot more discipline we noticed a great improvement in both her work and her willingness to serve. To any young masters or mistresses about to take charge of a domestic slave, remember the saying that is as true today as it always has been, “SPARE THE ROD AND SPOIL THE MAID.” When our new maid has finally passed the grade as an obedient housemaid and submissive whore then Candy will be dumped on the streets hundreds of miles away from our home to try and survive on the streets as best she can, homeless, penniless and in just the clothes she has. Not a pretty maid’s dress but rags from a box in the attic. Poor Candy doesn’t have much of a future to look forward to, but she is just a lowly slave and of no importance.
Dear Candida, How pleased I was to see my letter published in your magazine about me (the coloured Mistress Pamela) my fiance Royston and my sissy male maid Candy Floss. To those who read my letter I promised to write again when Royston arrived home from his six week business trip to America. Royston my big Jamaican lover was sitting on the settee watching television while I, sitting between his parted knees, leant back against his broad chest. His left arm circled my thin waist, while his right hand was pushed inside my blouse, playing with my braless tits.
It had been a heavy day of lovemaking and I was totally spent, Royston making up for the six weeks he spent wearing a penis restraint. He had bought both Candy and myself a gift each. For me it was a beautiful gold bracelet from Tiffany’s and a less expensive but novel toy for Candy. It was a simple, round, silver collar, no thicker than a pencil. Once fitted round her neck it had a self locking catch and could no longer be removed. Hanging from the collar were two small silver bells which made a pretty, delicate little sound as she moved. I had made her perform cunnilingus on me and the bells tinkled amusingly as she struggled to bring me to an orgasm. Oral sex has always been my favourite form of pleasure, having been introduced to it at an early age by my darling elder sister, Nikki. Watching my little slave’s bottom wriggle as she sucked on my clitoris I felt that warm sensation that precedes a climax. I had been well fucked by Royston and Candy drank in the cocktail of pussy juice, semen and sweat as I came in her mouth. Now as I relaxed in the lounge with Royston Candy was in the kitchen doing a pile of ironing.
I clapped my hands, summoning her to me. She entered the room, curtsied and stood before us in her little French maid’s outfit. As 1 mentioned in my previous letter Candy is 21, quite pretty, immature and a virgin thanks to the penis restraint she always wears on her tiny apparatus. I stood up and walked behind her, taller than her even in her high heels. She trembled visibly and when I touched her bottom. 1 felt a shiver run down her spine. “How’s she behaved in my absence?” Royston asked. “Her usual bone idle self I replied “I had to use my crop on her several times”. I smiled as I remembered all her sobbing and pleading with me. Suddenly without warning I crashed my fist into the I small of Candy’s back causing her to lurch forward and crumple on her knees in front of Royston.. With that I retired for the night, twenty minutes later Royston joined me and I curled up in his arms to sleep. The time was 12 o’clock midnight. Candy had to finish the ironing, wash our supper dishes and I clean the kitchen ready for breakfast. She could then wash her little body in the tin bath in the scullery.
She is kept completely hairless except for her blonde mane and small pubic mound. In the large mirror she uses to check her appearance she can see her tattoo I AM CANDY FLOSS THE MAID a constant reminder of her enforced situation. Putting on her pink girlie pyjamas she crawls into her sleeping bag in the comer of the kitchen floor. The next day after she had cooked and cleared away our breakfast things and made our bed I let her have a cold bowl of cereal mixed with water. Candy’s food is mostly bland and plain. It has to be earned by hard work and it is not unknown for her to go the whole day without anything to eat while I supervise a sumptuous meal for Royston and myself and have Candy serving and waiting on us. Now and then we treat her to tasty pieces of leftovers as I like to keep her taste buds active.
Today I was sending Candy to my sister Nikki to clean for her. I really wanted her out of the house for the day while I tried a little experiment of my own. Royston drove Candy to my sister’s. She was wearing her short maid’s dress and very high heels. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail with a pink bow and she had on some pink lipstick and rose blusher on her cheeks. She also had her knee length plastic mack with her as she was to walk home. I follow Ms.G.P’s advice and have Nikki write out a report of her work to be brought to me in a sealed envelope.
In my last letter I mentioned I had never been caned or spanked in my life and felt Candy made far too big a deal about it. That is why I decided that Royston should administer a mild caning upon my knickers just to get a light feel of it. I told Royston I would start with six and see how I felt after that. I also told him that for every stroke I received I would administer six to his bare bottom. I love my fiance but I am the boss. He belongs just to me, while Candy belongs to both of us. I would never dream of degrading him or trying to change him. I love Royston just the way he is, a handsome, obedient stud. With a little trepidation I knelt over the side of the bed wearing just my tight knickers. Royston was naked as he stood at my side. The first stroke whistled through the air and struck me. I couldn’t believe the pain. It stung like a line of giant bees. I went to cry out but my vocal cords contracted producing just a faint gasp. On the second stroke I did cry out and the sting made my eyes fill with water. Just as I felt I could take no more Royston delivered a third. I sprang to my feet hopping around the room holding my burning rear and feeling tears on my cheek. Royston was filled with remorse and, dropping the cane to the floor, kissed and embraced me. Lying me face down on the bed Royston began rubbing baby cream onto my flaming bottom, soothing and cooling- How could our gentle, meek little slave take such pain? Simple, she has no choice, but instead of feeling pity for Candy I ‘felt an overwhelming sense of power and licked my lips in anticipation of her homecoming.
Soon the hurt began to ebb away (after all they had only been mild strokes) and Royston’s strong hands upon my soft, black and round bottom was making me feel quite sexy. I parted my legs slightly and guided his fingers inside me. Before long I climaxed in a deep, shuddering orgasm. I duly gave Royston his eighteen strokes plus two to make it a nice round number. I always use all my strength on him but have never succeeded in making him cry or beg for mercy. What a difference between Royston and that pathetic weakling Candy. 1 decided that Royston should wear his penis restraint for a week, far worse a punishment for my virile young man than any caning.
Candy returned home about 6.30 walking the three miles from my sister’s house in her high heels, a plastic mack over her short dress. Although her work is of a very high standard I was sure Nikki would find something to fault her on, and sure enough on reading her report card it seemed our slave had made a poor job of ironing my niece’s pleated school skirt and Nikki felt obliged to mention the fact. Now after removing her coat and handing me the report card with a curtsy she nervously awaited my response. “Did you have anything to eat or drink at Nikki’s?” I asked. “Yes Mistress” Candy replied. “Miss Unity gave me a little dog food and a glass of dish water”. Clearly my niece Unity had been amusing herself at my slave’s expense. “It seems from this report Floss that you can’t even iron a skirt properly. If you’re so inadequate maybe we should get rid of you and get ourselves a little girl”. Candy who had been looking down, her blue eyes lowered in my presence trembled in fear, making the bells on her slave collar jingle. She was well aware that one day we would replace her with a younger boy or girl and she would be dumped penniless and homeless on the streets with no family or friends to run to. No wonder she was scared.
“If we do get another maid Floss I suppose we could always put you on the game, hire you out down at the local gay bar”. I said this to humiliate her but it struck me as not a bad idea and something to be mused over. Royston and I visited this club regularly and had many friends amongst its gay clientele. Hookers and rent boys plied their trade there and in the back room young boys and girls were bought and sold or auctioned off. It was a great place to spend an evening.
“Go into the lounge and beg Royston to put you over his knee and spank you for being an inadequate, lazy bitch, and thank your lucky stars I’m tired and don’t take my crop to you”. Candy looked dejected and close to tears. “Yes Mistress” she said and with a little curtsy hurried to obey. I went upstairs and took my vibrator and dildo from a drawer and placed them on the bed. With Royston under lock and key I would need them later.
On returning to the lounge Candy was stood in the comer, facing the wall, her hands on her head and her knickers round her ankles. Her bottom was a nice scarlet colour, “I hope you’re not planning to stand around all evening Floss?” I asked. “There’s plenty of work for you to do. I’ll be checking up on what you’ve done before I got to bed tonight so get cracking”. Candy pulled up her panties over her well spanked bottom, straightened her dress and apron and hurried for the kitchen, but luckily for her she stopped and remembered to curtsy to Royston and me before leaving the room.
I lay down on the couch with my head in Royston’s lap and he gently caressed and stroked my face and long afro hair. With my fiance being at work most of the day the thought of being a dutiful housewife is not for me which is why we tolerate Candy. Both Royston and I can relax and enjoy our time together knowing the housework and other mundane chores are being done to near perfection by our sissy male maid whose fear of punishment and pain really keeps her on her toes. There is absolutely nothing better than a good beating now and again to motivate a slave.
I have run on as usual Candida and I hope my letter is not too long. I must stress that as before, every word is true. Like Candy Floss there must be thousands of men and women, boys and girls in enforced servitude and with the help of your magazine we can encourage many more Mistresses and slaves to join the fold. Love and best wishes from the black and beautiful,
I have had the pleasure of writing to you many occasions about myself, the ebony black Mistress Pamela, and of life in my household with my two slaves, my handsome strong Jamaican fiance Royston and my sweet, white, petite she-male maid Candy Floss, and you have always been kind enough to print my letters.
Before I give you my latest report I must first address a letter in a recent edition of your magazine that said 1 was very cruel to Royston and Candy. 1 disagree, I believe 1 am firm but fair. Of course, being a hot red blooded Mistress I may take out any pent up frustration or stress on my obedient fiance’s rump. I only ever cane Candy for her faults such as poor work or slovenly appearance and, due to my extensive training, I seldom need to apply the cane to her soft feminine body more than once or twice a week. Any minor faults might require on the spot punishment and I will slap her face or kick her on the shins. On the positive side Candy is fed, clothed and given a reason to live, to serve her Mistress and make my life easier and more pleasurable. She has a roof over her head for as long as we keep her as our domestic slave maid.
As I have mentioned before in previous letters, sexual duties are often required of Candy, and Candy must comply with whatever we desire of her just like the sweet little slave girl she is.
Twice a week I send Candy on the bus to my darling sister Nikki. When Candy goes out she changes from her ultra short French maid’s dress to a knee length cotton outfit. My sister has asked if she can borrow Candv every Wednesday and Saturday and, of course, I am happy to oblige. Nikki and her husband are out at work on Wednesday and their only child (my teenage, drop-dead gorgeous niece Unity) is at sixth form college so Candy can get on with all of the housework. She will polish the whole house and vacuum the carpets, strip the beds and change their linen, wash down all the woodwork (doors, skirting boards etc) clean the stove and microwave, scrub the kitchen floor and polish the bathroom and the toilets till they sparkle.
My sister Nikki is a qualified beautician and masseur and runs a mobile service. She sometimes comes home between appointments for a shower and a bite to eat and to check up on our stupid maid’s progress. Although Nikki is a gentle and kind person, she will punish Candy if she feels she is slacking, or for a lack of effort in her work. In the hall closet Nikki keeps a thin, crook handled cane and a strip of knotted, leather, horse harness. Candy often arrives home with a very sore, well striped bottom. On Saturday at my sister’s house Candy must do all her family’s washing and ironing, and there’s always a huge pile of clothes to get through, along with cleaning and polishing all their shoes and boots. Unfortunately for Candy, on a Saturday, Unity is at home and will tease and mock my poor maid without mercy. Last weekend Unity’s bitch friend Emily was visiting and my coffee-coloured niece caned Candy for their amusement – just for the fun of seeing her cry.
Once home again Candy changes back into her ultra short maid’s dress to continue her never ending household duties. Due to a strict diet of scraps from our plates I keep Candy at around seven stones and she can slip easily into a small size ten dress. It was a recent decision to move onto the scraps only diet. The scraps are left in a plastic bowl under the sink with the cleaning products and dirty cloths and rags. Candy gets to eat the cold scraps once we have gone to bed. Puddings scraps mixed in with savory scraps. I am presented with the bowl after the last meal has been cleared away and I ensure sweet is properly stirred in with savory and also that there is not too much food. I like my little she-male to be nice and skinny. With her long blonde hair, pretty face and firm breasts, Candy minces around the house in her high heels, swaying her hips and giving sexy glimpses of her panties and stocking tops whenever she moves.
Deprived of any news of the outside world, (she is not allowed to read newspapers or watch television), Candy lives as a penniless domestic servant, orphaned and alone. It’s no wonder Candy clings to us, we are the only stable thing she has in her life, yet well aware that one day, once we decided she is past her sell by date, we will dump her far from home, on the streets of some inner city hell-hole.
As usual Candida, my letter is rather long but I hope you can find space for it in your great magazine. 1 have it reserved for me every month and Royston has orders to pick up the latest edition on his way home from work.
I have just returned from a work out at the gym and, as I sit in the armchair reading. Candy, her hands bound behind her, is kneeling at my feet, having a break from the housework, as she gives my toes a relaxing oral massage, sucking on each delicate toe and using her tongue to remove any bits of fluff or grime from between them. As my maid’s bleached blonde hair hangs down and caresses my feet 1 lie back and close my eyes, happy and content. 1 have a lovely life, I am black and beautiful, rich, pampered and spoiled by my two slaves Royston and Candy Floss.
1 always keep your magazines Candida and have drawers in my desk full of them. Candy of course is always too busy to read a magazine, but as a special treat I sometimes allow Royston to look at the pictures and photos in MADAM of the Mistress and models in dominant poses. They always turn him on and make him go rock hard between the legs. Although Royston is my slave I love him dearly. I would never humiliate him or try to change him. He is my friend, confidante and bodyguard. After a torrid night of sex with me, Royston’s back is covered in scratches where my nails have clawed him and his chest and shoulders often have bite marks where I have, on the point of climax, sunk my teeth in him. They are love wounds inflicted by me, for the honour of sharing my bed.
Candy is another matter. A born submissive she may be but our gentle little maid is certainly no masochist and even after many years in our service the threat of a caning fills Candy with terror. Although I’m certainly no sadist 1 have to admit that the sight of bright scarlet stripes lining my maid’s small, white bottom makes me go quite damp and fills me with a warm, pleasant glow, so at least Candy knows that despite her own pain and suffering she can be happy and content in the knowledge that she is giving pleasure to her dominant, black owner. Pamela. I should mention a little more about Unity’s bitch friend Emily. Emily has just turned 18, like Unity and Emily has a 16 year old brother. Emily and Unity concocted a plan to turn Emily’s little brother into her personal slave. I am in no doubt she felt jealous of Unity’s fun with Floss. So, Unity half seduced Emily’s brother in Emily’s bedroom when they were alone and persuaded him to put on her pair of light apricot frilly panties. As this required unity to take off her panties, Emily’s little brother agreed. Her brother naked but for the panties, Unity triggered a pre-arranged signal and Emily burst in with a camera and took plenty of photos. For fear of the photos being passed around his school, Emily’s little brother is now the slave of both the girls and Emily makes his life hell. The other weekend, the girls turned up at my door with Emily’s little brother and Unity asked if they could al spend some time in my spare bedroom. I noticed Unity pulling a large wooden hairbrush out of her bag as they made their way up the stairs.
I left them alone for almost three hours and did hear the sound of smacking from time to time. When they left, I could see Emily’s little brother had been crying. I felt completely at ease with the scenario. If I am enabling two young ladies to learn the delights of having a male slave to serve and to punish, I am surely adding wonderfully to their life education.
It was on hearing of the regime Emily has set up for her brother, that I christened her Unity’s bitch friend Emily. It is a term of endearment, I am very impressed by the dominance and despotism of young Emily.
1 was very interested in a letter that was written to me by a young man from Amsterdam. His name is Mike and he begged me to become the postal slave of my young niece Unity and her bitch friend Emily.
I am the black Mistress Pamela and I have given a detailed account over the years of my life with my large black fiance Royston and my small, white and very feminine she-male maid Candy Floss.
Firstly Mike, I have NO intention of forwarding your letter on to Miss Unity or Miss Emily. They are both too young and inexperienced to become involved with a pervert like you. I did however, show your letter to Unity’s mum, my elder sister
Nikki, and a few of our friends at a recent coffee morning and we all had a good laugh over it. Fancy a grown man of twenty wanting to be treated like shit by two young girls. But do not despair Mike, if your letter is true, as I hope that all letters to MADAME magazine are (though I doubt it) then it seems your very own sister is more than capable of taking you in hand and reducing you to what you obviously wish to be, a worthless slave to a dominant lady. As you claim that your sister reads this magazine I will address this letter to you both.
To begin with Mike, or Michelle, as 1 think I shall call you, you must show true remorse for your past deeds like insulting your sister’s friend and wanking into her knickers. (If I found Royston doing such a disgusting thing I would have his balls cut off. As I very seldom wear knickers, he is not tempted). Beg her forgiveness and ask her to punish you and make you her personal slave. I suggest your sister has her name tattooed on your chest, saying you are her property. My own maid wears a tattoo saying “I am Candy Floss, the Maid” across the top of her breasts so whoever pulls her dress down, off her shoulders can see her status in life. Candy also wears a silver bell , lock-on collar around her neck, rings in pierced ears and nipples and of course, her permanent penis restrainer. Any slacking in her domestic duties or failure to please will usually result in her receiving an over-the-knee spanking from Rovston or a hard caning from me. Have you ever experienced CP young Michelle? If not you are in for a real treat, especially when you buy your sister a nice, slender, riding crop and present it to her, on bended knee. If you dislike the idea of being owned by your sister, remember a true slave cannot choose his or her owner. At least you want to be a slave, unlike my feminine maid and Emily’s little brother, both in enforced servitude. Still, I am sure some embarrassing photos of you can ensure your true obedience and to prove her total control over you, Michelle, I hope you are given the honour of drinking golden nectar. With a tattoo emblem on your chest never again can you show yourself to young ladies, how they would scorn and ridicule you. Finally Michelle, in your letter it seems you work and have a job. I suggest your sister charges you a large fee for the privilege of being her slave. Seventy five per cent of your wage sounds fair to me, of course, she may insist you take a second job and take 150% of any money you earn.
I hope I’ve given you Michelle, and your sister something to think about, so do write again and let us know how you get on. No matter how mean your sister may be to you 1 am sure you are better off belong to her, rather than my niece and her friends.
Candy Floss is dead scared of Unity and with good reason. She loves tormenting my little slave for her amusement. Being at the mercy of a pretty but spiteful teenage girl must be very frightening. No task is too menial or degrading for Candy to perform. The other Sunday, Unity had popped around for a visit and we sat in the sitting room for a couple of hours, chatting and leafing through magazines. The whole time, Floss had been meticulously cleaning all the windows and mirrors in the large room. This is an especially onerous task for Floss as just one small smear will result in a very harsh caning. And it is clearly very hard to eradicate all smears. Unity had paid Floss almost no attention apart from barking orders for soft drinks or the like. Unity stood to leave and I think little Candy Floss thought she had got away lightly from a visit from Unity. However, Unity instructed Floss to get her a jar of Vaseline which Floss quickly did.
Unity then dipped her fingers into the pot and walked around the room, casually running a smear of petroleum jelly across every window and mirror. She and I then walked from the room leaving an almost tearful Floss to begin the glass cleaning all over again. As we walked from the room, Unity spoke to me in a loud voice. ‘You will cane the little bitch hard if the glass isn’t smear free in double-quick time, won’t you aunty? ‘ I smiled and agreed I would. Unity turned to Floss and gave her a stare of spitefulness and walked out.
I did give Floss a hard caning for taking too long (although she could not have done it any quicker), which had her crying and crying. I did not want to think of Unity being disappointed when I reported back to her.
Although 95% of Candy’s existence is spent in domestic drudgery she must also be prepared to perform more intimate duties of her black owners.
Quite recently 1 have discovered an exquisite way of making use of my maid’s tongue other than cunnilingus. After making love with Royston or Nikki 1 sometimes like to lie naked on the bed and have Candy lick me clean and remove any sweat that might have formed on my body from my exertions. Candy must remember it is an occasional treat to be allowed to lick my armpits, belly button and back of my neck and especially my shapely black bottom, pushing her tongue between the cheeks, along the crack and into the rear passage, removing any sweat and grime and musky scents. It is a lovely, pleasant feeling and I can recommend it to any dominant (or passive) lady. I sometimes wonder if black girls taste different to white girls? Candy in her lifelong servitude to a black family, certainly wouldn’t know.
Finally Candida, I would like to mention a subject that is very close to my heart. It is an unpleasant fact of life that most males and she-males masturbate and must be prevented from doing so whenever possible. This does not apply to women of course, who need some form of simple, sexual relief. Whenever Royston is away on business, or sometimes when he has displeased me, he must wear his penis restraint. It consists of a stainless steel tube (large size) which slips over the penis when soft. A metal ratchet style collar goes round the penis base and behind the balls and is adlocked on. It allows the wearer to pee when soft but stops ejaculation and even obtaining an erection is quite painful, or so I’ve been told. My maid Candy wears a similar device (extra small) permanently on her tiny penis. These restraints are simple and very effective.
I wish all males reading my reports could be controlled. How lovely it would be if their wives, girlfriends, mothers or sisters had their males’ cocks locked in tight restrainers, so when they got hard-ons from your lovely magazine they could not receive any relief but remain frustrated and very sorry for their past indiscretions. Mistress Melanie ordered her slaves to bury the keys to their restrainers and concrete over them. My suggestion to any loners interested would be to apply some superglue to your penis before you fit your restrainer (sorry Candida, I know you disapprove) then add a dab of superglue on the padlock before you snap it shut, and for good measure, throw the keys in the nearest river or canal. Then the next time you read this magazine you can feel the true power of women, in the most private and useless part of your body. Imagine your cock turning purple and blue as it strains against its restrainer and your balls hanging like two ripe plums as they never again release their load. In fact, the very thought of it has me damp and excited, so I will finish my letter now, hitch my dress up and give myself a good frigging. Are you men jealous? It’s just a cruel twist of fate that you were born a male. Lots of love and keep up the good work.