Letter from Santa Monica

LETTER FROM SANTA MONICA

Dear Shoeblossom:

I go into Grandpa’s room, worried because I know he’s upset with me—I’m a bad girl, and deserve to be punished! I’m wearing my drop-seat pink Dr. Denton footie pajamas, and Gramps looks very displeased with me.

“Nipper” he says, as I climb in his lap, “You’ve been touching yourself and having impure thoughts, and Grandpa doesn’t like that.” Grandpa takes up his big wooden hairbrush, and I protest, crying that I’ve been a good girl. Oh no please no.

But Grandpa is implacable, and he takes down my drop seat of my Dr. Denton’s, and begins whipping my poor buttocks with the big wooden hairbrush until I am sobbing hard and my round buttocks are bright red. And then Grandpa Takes off my Dr. Denton’s, and gives me a bath…and we do it in the bathtub!

Then I go across town to visit mean  Uncle Lucas. I go into his house wearing one of those flowered little girl dresses, and tennis shoes, and again I must be punished, this time with a razor strop…Uncle Lucas is a man who will not permit me to talk back! After he whips me, he pushes a bowling pin up my ass and makes me sit on it for nearly an hour.

I don’t mind so much, because the last time, Uncle Lucas gave me a nasty enema, and those I really hate. But I put on a big show for him, screeching and crying and begging for clemency, but of course Luke is stone deaf to that.

After this, I visit Myron who lives in his mother’s basement. Myron puts clothespins on my breasts, my belly, my thighs and my buttocks and knocks them off. Then he ties me up and pees directly in my mouth, and I catch every drop.

I know Myron is quite impressed with that—he can only afford to see me once or twice a month, because he has a limited income from his video store job, though of course Mom doesn’t make him pay rent.

I am related to none of these people, the familial arrangements are financial…and it’s a living!

I was born right here in Santa Monica at the Synanon House, a drug rehab that became a cult, in 1970. I’m forty now, an old lady by some standards, but I’m told I still got it going on!

My parents, well really my mom, (Dad just stayed around, I think for the sperm donation and then split Synanon right after) named me Juniper, since she was a flower child, and people have called me Nipper ever since.

Being as I’m a bit top heavy, sometimes I get jokes about that but shit, I don’t mind. Mom and I split Synanon after it got weird in ’78, and though she eventually moved to Montana to live with my step dad, by then I was old enough to stay here on my own.

Mom has never been clear on what I do for a living, and since she’s a bit of a cult-hopper, now she’s born-again, so I just tell her I’m a counselor of sorts. But what I really do is, I’m a professional submissive! Well, I used to be. I’m in a slightly different business now. But let me tell you about being a submissive for money.

Recently I flew to Scottsdale, Arizona and spent a week with Gilpin, who is old and rich and has a hankering for a naughty daughter to raise! I still look young, thankfully. I spent one morning, I recall, washing his car, while wearing short-shorts and a tiny T-shirt. I washed, and bent over a lot, and he read to me from the Bible about “not sparing the rod”.

At one point, he found a spot of motor oil that I missed, and he took off his belt, and pulled down my shorts and threw me across the hood of his Lexus, and the belt came down about twenty times. I howled and screamed, but really, I’m trained to take it in silence as well. But Gilp likes it when I howl, right?

Brent likes it when I pretend to be a slave girl—a geisha to him while he wears one of those sheik head rags. It’s rather hilarious since Brent is about as Irish as he can be, but I do the belly dancing in front of him, and lick his balls while he mumbles in pidgin Arabic.

Arlie’s kick is to have me in a hanging cage in his study—just for a few hours a day. He is studying for the bar, and for some reason, a naked woman locked in a cage suspended from the ceiling is a pleasant distraction. Any way I can help!

Theodore believes that women are chattel, and of course no one agrees with him, but I’ll be chattel for $225 an hour. Funny, he doesn’t want to abuse or torture me, just to have me kneel and look up at him lovingly. That is actually more of a chore than you think, as Theodore looks sort of like Archie Bunker, but he walks around in a thong.

Enoch, another client, prefers me to be a silent slave girl. I kneel in perfect posture as he attaches mousetraps to my nipples, and around the skin of my big breasts, before knocking them off with his Plexiglas riding crop. Sometimes then he knees me in the nose, and I get bloody, but its a thousand bucks an hour.

For Enoch, I charge a thousand an hour. I have a sliding scale fee, you could say. When I stay with Gilpin, I charge him three hundred an hour for session time, but nothing for when I’m just sitting around his place watching the tube, or going into Scottsdale to shop.

Aurelius took me on a cruise, it must’ve cost him a fortune—he had to pay me a thou a day, and also pay my fare, and HIS fare, and then he ordered me to give foot massages and blowjobs to other cruise members. I have no idea if this increased his popularity on the ship, as he is gay as a goose…the motivation mystified me, but it was nice visiting the Greek Islands! (Literally, the Greek Islands, I’m not referring to analingus)

For Larry the house painter, who has issues with his ex-wife, I only charge about one fifty. Larry’s kind of cute, too. He gets a kick out of it when I let him put a leash on me, stark naked, and then he leads me around the apartment, and I sniff at his feet and growl, kind of low…and then he swats me with a newspaper!

“Nipper you just can’t imagine it” Larry told me recently.” You’re such a beautiful woman, and having you on the leash, naked, trying to jump up on me and all, it makes up for all the rejection I get in the singles bars. And I get such a thrill when you climb on me on the couch and lick my face!”

Conrad likes it when I lick and suck his dirty toes. I must have a really good genetic makeup, because doing this has never made me ill. As I lick Conrad’s toes of his right foot, he pushes his left foot between my legs and gets me off just shoving away. Eventually he lets me work my way up, kissing his legs and his inner thighs until I get to take his cock in my mouth.

When I suck a man’s cock, I do it very submissively. I don’t lick it and take my head off, I just swallow it whole (I was born without a gag reflex) and I just move my head up and down, using my tongue to tickle the underside of Master Whoever’s penis until he finally moans and shoots down my throat, or pulls it out and showers my face.

Sometimes I get shy men…they’re afraid to get started. Afraid I’ll shit all over them like every other woman they’ve ever met. Poor Niglio was like this. A bewildered Italian, who’d made his fortune in interior design, Nigilio had spent his life watching girls get tortured on porn vids.

So when I got him in my apartment, I went to the bathroom and came back in black bikini lingerie, my hair down and knelt before him, looking up with beseeching eyes. “Nipper’s been a bad girl, Master Niglio” I whispered. “Won’t you do your duty?”

And then I gestured at the coffee table where the thick wooden paddle sat, and in wonder, Niglio moved slowly to it, and I scurried along beside him. Finally I bent over the couch, and slyly pulled down my panties, showing my white bubble butt.

Niglio breathed inwardly, and then he lightly swatted me with the paddle. But I rolled my eyes. “I’m not going to stop being a good girl if you just do it that lightly.” And I winked at him. Then he became a bit temperamental, and the swats came down faster and harder.

Finally he tossed the wooden paddle down and rubbed my full cheeks, which were quite pink now, growing reddish in some places. (I have quite a complacent bottom though—it’s been through so much.) And he sat down, and I crawled on his lap, taking down my little lingerie demi bra. “Master Niglio, I am so sorry I displeased you, Sir…can I make it up to you?”

He is now a devoted client! He comes whenever he passes through Santa Monica, and his visits have grown ever more violent. He canes my breasts, shoves burning candles up my ass. I am very pleased with his success.

Pasquale runs an illegal gambling casino in his basement—Texas Hold-Em, poker, blackjack and a little bit of coke dealing, and some nights he gets me for three hours, and I serve as naked human furniture.

The high rollers get to sit on me, as a bench! Or, I will stay very still and they balance their big ashtrays on my back. When one of them is angry, they can whip my naked ass until they feel better, or pinch my breasts.

I had another client who wanted to shave my head, but I thought that was going a little too far.

Wylie liked watching me pee into a bowl and then drink it…sometimes he would drink it too…it was almost like a cocktail sharing experience. I’ll do anything for five portraits of Dr. Franklin, right?

Jeremiah takes me into the woods, “camping”. But I wait on him in the nude, or sometimes wearing one of those adorable leopard skins. (Fake, of course, I’m a PETA fanatic!)

Jeremiah is a big one for whipping me with thorny tree branches, or shoving pinecones up my cunt. What’s hilarious about Jeremiah is, you’d think he’d be this big Tarzan type, but he looks like the ultimate Mortimer Snerd.

Actually, when a bear came out of its cave, Jeremiah ran and hid while I scared the bear away, and then when I came back, he became the big, bad, Master again.

Howie likes taking me to TGIF, and telling me what to order at the salad bar. I have to say, with downcast eyes “Whatever you want, Master Thomas.” And then he orders me to go to the bathroom and bring him back my undies.

Severinus and Madge are a couple who like hiring me to serve them…it takes the sting away from Severinus’s former adultery, I guess. Madge knows that I was Severinus’s (paid) slave, and so she is allowed to take out some of her frustrations on me, making me hold a telephone book in each hand for an hour, or beating me with a sawed off broom handle.

Incidentally, Severinus and Madge are child psychologists. That’s interesting, isn’t it?

Floyd enjoys humiliation. He makes me RollerBlade  on Telegraph Avenue in Berkeley—we drive over there, and he is clothed, and I’m naked, except for the skates. I’m quite a good Rollerblader, so it makes for quite a show, especially when he skates after me, whipping at me with his rubber cane!

Ernie likes to have me blow him under the table in fancy restaurants. We have been thrown out of every good eatery  in California, it seems. He tells the headwaiter that I can’t control myself because he is so attractive. I wonder if they believe this.

Then there are the fifteen minute wonders—they don’t have a lot of cash, but they drop by and give me what they have, and pull my jeans and panties down for a quick hairbrush spanking. I simulate crying after twelve minutes, then there’s a quick cuddle, and perhaps a hand-job and they’re on their way.

Not all my clients are male. I was just with Jade yesterday. She is one angry dyke, let me tell you. She has a young pretty girlfriend who she just can’t control, so then she must do something or burst. Jade comes in, plunks down the fee, and begins slapping me across the face, before yanking up my shirt, and twisting my nipples until I nearly black out.

Then, once Jade has me naked, she uses a cane on me until I am screaming. I’m not terrified, Jade is a trained nurse and knows not to go too far. Finally, I give her a relaxing massage and go down on her until she is really quite happy again…and then she kisses me tenderly and leaves!

People in the scene ask me sometimes if this is the only way I can find to make a living. The fact is, I have a degree in accounting, and passed the CPA the first time!  But office work is so dull and yes, I do like being a submissive.

It probably started with my first “step daddy” or Mom’s long term boyfriend, Culver. The first time Culver caught me smoking pot, he threatened to either flush my bag or tell Mom, and I said with a sweet voice, “Can’t you just spank me instead?”

And you betcha, Culver took me over his knee and hit me ten times with his hand before I told him he could take down my jeans. After that, he whacked the shit out of me, and diddled me with his finger, and actually bought me MORE pot!

Then he caught me playing Strip Poker with some boys, and after he chased them out, Culver took me into the bedroom and made me take off what was left of my clothes (I’m the type that cheats to LOSE at Strip Poker) and then he tied my hands behind my back and my ankles together, and he went at my poor butt with a buggy whip that his grandpa left him.

I was real scared, Shoeblossom, moving around and  trying to keep that damned lash from hitting my full buttocks and lower thighs, and it hurt something terrible. And Culver was really getting excited as he slashed me again and again with the whip.

But then as the whip hit between my legs, I began getting real excited, and at some point I was about to cum…I couldn’t believe that a whip was more effective than all the dicks of the high school boys I’d fucked!

Then my Mom came in and caught us, and she called the police, and I’m afraid they took Culver away. She untied me and cruel little me, I omitted the part about the Strip Poker and said that Culver had just lost his mind.

About the time I got into my second year of college, Mom found the love of her life and moved away, and I kept the apartment…between student loans and waitressing, I was able to get by fairly well. But I remember one night complaining to my next door neighbor that I’d over spent on my credit cards at a lingerie shop…

I modeled the stuff for him and said “Doncha think it was worth it, Stew?” And he was trying to lecture me about economy with a hard on. So then I said “Hey, if you pay for the lingerie, and give me a spanking for being a bad girl I’ll have learned my lesson!”

Now Stew was a Divinity student, but I could see him wavering, and finally he agreed, ‘cause it wasn’t more than about three hundred bucks. And then I brought him a hairbrush, and bent over his knee wearing my little negligee…and he pulled down my panties. I knew he’d always wanted to, seeing my fanny bounce at him in faded jeans.

After this, whenever I got overdrawn, I’d call Stew up and ask him to come bail me out. I’d give him the sob story, and then he’d gruffly agree to help out, and I’d bring him the hairbrush to remind me why it was good not to be a spendthrift. Stew was too tight-assed to let me blow him afterwards, I think he honestly thought he was helping me…but you know he was going home and jacking off!

Then I had a professor, Dr. Idell. I went to him, pleading because I’d  missed a deadline, and he was really tough…but then I sat on his lap and told him that I’d never gotten the discipline I needed (I did see a copy of “Story of O” on his desk, cues are nice) and Dr. Idell took me over his knee and spanked me hard, and then just gave me an A for the course.

Men are great. They get mad and then they feel guilty. Now and then I would drop by the good doctor’s office, long after I’d taken his class, with papers in subjects related to his field, and he’d whip me, I’d blow him, and he’d talk to his colleagues, and I really breezed through with a 4.0! Higher education can be great when you are a professional submissive!

After I graduated, I spent about eight or nine years working as an accountant, and earned enough money to get a nice little butternut colored house here in Santa Monica…but like I said, it was boring. I began playing around at the BDSM clubs and societies, and the first thing I noticed were, there weren’t enough cute girls!

It was—you guessed it, fat guys and old Jewish women…and science fiction freaks, running around in chain mail who had renamed themselves “Athelstan” and “Pagan Lad”. When I started going I immediately got just tons of attention—and I wanted to be punished, but if wasn’t going to be by a cute guy, I was gonna get reimbursed somehow!

Somewhere along the line, I did get pregnant and had a wonderful daughter, also called Juniper, but Junie for short, and she often rubs embrocation on my welts, telling me that I have the grossest work

“Like, who wants to be a whipping girl Mom” Junie has promised me that she is going to get a good job and support me when she finishes high school, but I keep telling her that I have the best job in the world.

“Mommy always has time for you, Junebug, and we have LOTS of money!” Junie though would rather we had less money and I was hit less, but see, she’s not a masochist, so how would she understand?

And when some dork orders me to kneel on broken glass and kiss his feet, and I have the cash to pay for Junie’s new shoes, or to replace the fuel injector in her van, it gives me such pleasure.

But then something interesting happened—I came home from a session one day to find my daughter hanging out with the Sauerbry triplets—Dean, Troy, and Cleveland. They are heirs to a coal fortune, and are famous polo players. (Yup, polo, we have it all in L.A.)

Dean and Cleve were right in front of Junie, who was sitting on the couch. Dean was kissing Junie’s toes, and Cleve was standing in front of Junie, who was stroking his cock very slowly…Troy was in the corner, crying and had long red welts on his ass, legs and back. Oh, did I mention that? The triplets were naked.

“I’m not going to let you cum, Cleve, not until you give me five hundred big ones.” Junie was saying, and Cleve said “Yes, Mistress Cliquot.” What the hell? I looked questioningly at my daughter, who smiled.

“I’ve decided you’re right about this BDSM nonsense, but I’m going to do it the other way around.” Junie said with some asperity. “I’m dropping out of high school to become Mistress Cliquot, Domme to the Rich!”

I watched with fascination as she clamped a couple of clothespins on Dean’s nipples and then kicked them off, and he continued to slurp her toes, he didn’t miss a trick!

As you can imagine, Shoeblossom, I was going to talk her out of it, ‘til I saw how much money was on the coffee table. Then Junie—Mistress Cliquot—handed me a whip and told me to help out with the discipline.

So I am no longer a professional submissive…I’m now a professional dominant. Mistress Cliquot and Mistress Oasis (that’s me) of Santa Monica…look us up! We’ll give you quite a time!

Best,

Nipper Holman

Dear Nipper—

In this economy any way to make a buck is a good one. You really should consider being both a sub and a dom—you’d get lots of work. I never pass through Santa Monica, as I’m a Brit, but it’s good to know where the action is!

Best,

Shoeblossom

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