Mummie's Chauffer

Robertson Russell's cell phone rang as he was haranging Ned Crawford his chauffer from the back seat. "I want this car polished more, Crawford!" Robertson lectured. "You're not working hard enough, man."

Ned Crawford nodded his broad black face, trying to hide a grin, as Russell continued his screed.

"You aren't supposed to just sit around in the corporate parking garage waiting for me to call you to go somewhere. What a lazy Negro you are! It seems as if ever since you've developed this odd relationship with my mother, you're lazier these days."

"I'm the one in charge, Crawford. My father left the company, the money the car to ME." The chauffer nodded his head. "Yessir, Mr. Russell... Ain't that your phone?" Crawford said innocently.

Robertson Russell answered the phone. "Robertson Russell here... oh, hello, Mummie. I'm coming home now, we're pulling in. Crawford? But I thought it would be just us tonight, I was going to send him home for the weekend... Yes, ma'am. I'll tell him. Goodbye, Mummie."

Russell harrumphed loudly as he shut off the cell. "Crawford, my mother wants you to join us for the evening, as I'm sure you knew. So we'll go in."

Crawford looked behind him, scratching his Afro as he turned off the key. "Actually, Mr. Russell, you're to change into your other clothes, there's a package at your feet. I'll go in now, and you're to come in in about half an hour in your little suit." As Crawford said "little suit" he enunciated it with an effeminite sneer.

Russell remained silent as the black chauffer shut the car door and went into the Russell mansion, whistling. Russell pulled the package from the back seat, and pulled out his hated sailor suit. Slowly he began removing his business clothes, and a tear rolled down his cheek slowly.

Robertson felt around in the bag for the horrible outfit, the one with the knickerbockers and the tie, but what came out of the bag was an even more peculiar outfit, attached to which was a note.

"Dear Bobbie... you complain so much about your sailor suit, that I have decided that you don't have the maturity for such a manly little suit, so I had Ned purchase you an outfit for even younger boys the Buster Brown suit.

You have been behaving like a toddler, so you are going to wear a tunic... it's a nice smock which little boys were allowed to wear just before they were old enough to wear breeches... in other words, it's like a little dress with pantaloons. I hope you enjoy it! Your sister Danielle picked it out for you in Chicago and sent it here! Mummie."

Oh, Danielle such a wicked baby sister!... Bobbie was so glad that she'd moved out of the house when she had. It had been so humiliating, the way Mummie had so favored his younger sister. When Bobbie had been twelve and Danielle only nine, Mummie had insisted that Bobbie be put to bed first, at seven-thirty, right after his warm milk, while she and Danni would sit up late and watch all the fun situation comedies.

And Danni would be dispatched to make sure Bobbie was in his jammies at seven-fifteen, while the other children were still playing in the street. "Hurry up and get your pajamas on Bobbie, I want to get back out to play Kick the Can." This had caused Bobbie no end of humiliating tears and resentment.

But later, in high school and college (which Mummie had insisted Bobbie attend as a commuter, from home) Danielle became even more of a dominating influence in his life. Whenever Bobbie had gotten upset with Mummie for not allowing him to go to a party or watch an R rated movie, Mummie would quell his tantrum by ordering Bobbie to strip and wear diapers.

She'd lock all the bathroom doors and Bobbie would be forced to spend anywhere from three days to two weeks in nappies, and his baby sister would be allowed to change his diapers and give him hot baths and enemas.

"But it's not fair, man!" Bobbie would kick his legs as Danielle leaned over him, her pink tube top bouncing. His little sister had had such a hot body, but Bobbie'd never seen her naked, but she saw him in the buff lots of times. "Shut your face, Bobbie!" Danielle would say. "Or I'll tie a pink ribbon to your wee- wee before re-diapering you."

Oh, Bobbie could remember how Danielle's elegant little white hands with the long purple nails looked, rubbing baby oil around his shaved cock and balls. If Bobbie got excited, Danielle would often pour boiling water on his Bad Thing, as Mummie called it, to calm him down.

Once, when Bobbie had rebelled against infantilization, Danielle and her best friend Paige had tied Bobbie to Mummie's big poster bed and had taken turns thrashing Bobbie's bare rump with willow switches that they'd cut from the tree in the back yard and soaked in the bathtub. Bobbie had screamed and cried in frustration and agony-- at the time he was twenty-one and they were eighteen...

Then Paige had forced poor Bobbie to stand in the corner with his pants down while Danielle called their friends over for a sorority frat party... oh the agony! Bobbie had that one thing to cheer him up... Danielle wasn't living here anymore... Mummie and Ned would be enough. But why, oh why had Danielle purchased this humiliating outfit?

Robertson nearly cried as he stared at the frilly collar, the pink and blue velvet jacket, and the baggy Raggedy-Ann underwear. To replace his wing-tips, Mummie had included lace up shoes and stockings. Robertson sighed, and began dressing.

Half an hour later, Bobbie climbed out of the big car and trotted into the house like a good boy, entering Mummie's parlor quietly in his sailor suit and Mary Jane buckle shoes.

Oh... there was his beloved Mummie, her pretty, long hair askew, leaning into the arms of that bad black man, Evil Uncle Ned. She'd taken down her strict bun without him.

Normally, Mummie wore her beautiful hair in a bun all week long, tied up tight, and only on Friday nights did she take it down, and allow Bobbie to brush it, as long as he was a good boy, and didn't let his Bad Thing get too excited.

Mummie NEVER let anyone but Bobbie take down her hair, but here it was all over her shoulders, and that evil man, Uncle Ned was running his fingers casually through Mummie's long pretty locks, and rubbing his fingers on Mummie's bosom, encased as it was in her pretty gold lame dress.

Mummie didn't seem to see Bobbie as she breathed into Uncle Ned's face. "How nice it was for you to take down my hair for me, honey! Do you like stroking it... it sure feels good!"

Bobbie was enraged, but what could he do? He didn't want to disturb Mummie and Uncle Ned... the last Friday night that Uncle Ned had stayed over, Bobbie had thrown a bit of a tantrum, and Mummie had tied Bobbie down and run steel needles through Bobbie's nipples while Uncle Ned had pushed a series of larger and larger steel balls into Bobbie's rectum, and then enema'd them out as Bobbie'd squealed for hours!

Now Bobbie watched Mummie sigh deeply, and kiss Uncle Ned's moustache.

Although Bobbie was a big grown up boy, well past twenty-one, Mummie wouldn't let Bobbie grow any facial hair, and didn't shave him either-- just took poor Bobbie to the depilatron center where all his bodily hair, including his crotch, Bad Thing and legs was removed...

This way Mummie could not only have Bobbie clean shaven, but once in a while, they'd play dress-up and Mummie'd take Bobbie shopping, both ladies in miniskirts that showed off their smooth legs! How Bobbie hated those outings, but Mummie was sure that he really had a need to be in touch with his feminine side.

But now, Bobbie pouted as he watched his Mummie kissing hairy uncle Ned. Oh, and watch Uncle Ned running his fingers in Mummie's cleavage!

"Mummie" Bobbie said loudly as his hands clenched into fists, which looked a bit ridiculous in his sailor tunic. Mummie turned from Uncle Ned and smiled at Bobbie.

Bobbie bit his lip and stared into her eyes. "You-you said tonight I could brush your hair-- that it would just be us!" Bobbie blushed hotly. It was Bobbie's privilege for Friday nights, and he might lose it... now that Uncle Ned was here.

Mummie looked up at Bobbie, her head resting on Uncle Ned's shoulder. "Dear, dear Bobbie... how cute you look in your tunic and bloomers! Doesn't he, Ned?" Uncle Ned grinned at Bobbie, who stomped his foot and stared down at his high-laced patent leather Mary Janes.

This was a stark contrast with Uncle Ned's black jeans and combat boots... Bobbie felt like such a sissy, though it was better than the time Mummie had him parading about in a sleeper pajama with a buttoned up flap in the back!

After a long week of driving Master Bobbie about and listening to his chatter, Uncle Ned was happy to see Bobbie subdued in his tunic.

But he said nothing, he just took Mummie's face in his rough-hewn hands and gave her a deep tongue kiss. Uncle Ned took his left and and toyed with Mummie's full, milky breast, rubbing it in and out of the dress.

"Look at him, Ned" Mummie motioned towards the scowling Bobbie. "Pouting, sulking. Here the boy is lucky to have a Mummie who loves him, who knocks herself out to provide a wonderful clean and comfortable house."

Bobbie's mouth dropped open. Here he came home every night and did the home chores-- Monday nights was dusting and vacuuming the house, Tuesdays, scrubbing the five bathrooms and kitchen.

Mummie went over each toilet bowl with a mirror, just to make sure her little darling wasn't slacking off, of course. and carried her strap with her to each room.

Wednesdays Bobbie had to scrub the walls and baseboards-- and did Mummie check those over carefully!

Last week there had been a slight mark or smudge on one baseboard and oh, there had been hell to pay. Mummie had caned Bobbie's bare buttocks in front of his friends from the Camera Club. Mummie had moved on to a short horsewhip and raised some vicious welts and marks on Bobbie's naked cheeks, oh so harsh.

At the end of Mummie's loving correction, Bobbie had been blubbering and weeping in front of his sniggering- so-called friends.. "But those men didn't really care for you dear" Mummie had comforted poor Bobbie later, as she'd tended to his gluteal wounds. "Real friends would have appreciated Mummie's efforts to teach you responsibility.. to make her boy more manly, yessir."

"Why don't you avoid those bad boys from the Camera Club, and your Stamp-Collector's Society too-- I took the liberty of resigning for you over the phone... you can spend more time with your beloved Mummie" she'd said as she'd rubbed Bobbie's viciously welted buttocks with soothing liniment, God bless her.

"Though you certainly do cry rather easily, sweetheart... it's babyish, really."

Thursdays Mummie's after-work cleaning schedule for poor Bobbie had focused on cleaning the windows. Particularly her big picture window in the living room.

To make sure Bobbie didn't lollygag at this duty, and that he'd clean it as soon as possible, Mummie had him wear a rather humiliating costume. She'd forced Bobbie to wear the Merry Widow negligee that she'd worn on the wedding night to Bobbie's daddy, now long dead.

"I know you hate wearing that when you're cleaning the windows darling".

She'd once told Bobbie "But it helps you avoid dawdling at the task... the faster you get it done, the sooner you can get your little nightgown clad body out of the picture window, darling.

I know you blushed terribly last week when those visiting Mormon girls on the street were laughing through the window at you.

A big grown-up man who has to wear ridiculous nighties because he can't be trusted to clean the picture window quickly otherwise."

But of course Bobbie always had to do a very thorough job there also, because Mummie, if she found even one little smidgen of dust on the picture window after he'd cleaned, quickly or otherwise, would be quite wrathful.

Bobbie recalled once in his senior year of high school, when he'd been forced to clean the window wearing a bra and panty set covered with lovely bright red hearts.

He'd cleaned oh so quickly because his teammates on the varsity football squad and their friends had been laughing over the fence at him...

Mummie had found a speck of dust and had taken poor Bobbie out into the yard and forced him to pull down his panties, covered with hearts, and take a nasty lashing with a thorny branch from her prize rose bush!

"Oh, oh Mummie... " Bobbie had screamed, bending over the fence, his panties around his knees. WHACK LASH SWACK! Mummie's thorny stick had slashed vicious red streaks up and down his pale buttocks and how painful it'd been!

How the pretty girls had laughed with their boyfriends watching the star quarterback of James Buchanan High getting lashed like a three year old in hearts lingerie! "You are such a pathetic geek, Bobbie!" Pam Collins, captain of the cheerleading squad had laughed at the poor boy as he rolled around on the ground in the front yard!

And to think he'd gotten so close to asking Pamela out... it had been difficult because Mummie's bedtime for Bobbie, even at age nineteen was seven-thirty.

Perhaps he might've taken Pamela to an afternoon movie though... but not now... not ever! What kind of a girl can respect a grown man who lets his mother take down his undies and whip his buttocks in the front yard?

And how the guys had razzed him about it the next day in the locker room! A couple of them had actually turned Bobbie over one of the benches and corn-holed him because all he was was a pathetic sissy!

But of course Bobbie knew that Mummie only did these disciplines for Bobbie's own good, and he was trying to learn to be more grateful for it.

On the weekends Bobbie had been forced to work in the yard wearing a ballerina tutu, with Mummie giving him nasty punishments for every missed weed or leaf!

So now Bobbie was disbelieving when he heard Mummie telling Uncle Ned that she was responsible for keeping Bobbie in such a lovely and comfortable clean house!

Bobbie tried to reason with his Mummie. He knew that pointing out that she didn't clean wouldn't help... he had to reason on her good side. "But M-Mummie." Bobbie said patiently, even as he felt his lower lip trembling,

"This is our night... I-I thought we-- I would brush your hair and then we would have cuddly num-nums... " He smiled, thinking of the rare occasions when Mummie would take her Bobbie to her bosom and let him kiss and huddle up in there... what fun that was!

"Darling, as you can see, I have company tonight." Mummie said, smiling at Bobbie. "Why don't you amuse yourself some other way... go play with your paper dolls."

At this, Uncle Ned burst into laughter, and Bobbie's face burned.

How could Mummie tell Uncle Ned his secret? Bobbie didn't need the world to know that he liked to relax and enjoy his Rita Hayworth and Esther Williams cut-out doll toys.

Mummie, despite everything else, had always kept Bobbie's secret.

"Goddamn it, Mummie!" Bobbie stamped his foot. "You can't air my dirty laundry in front of my chauffer, whatever else you do!" Bobbie kicked an end table and Mummie's 1883 Egyptian vase fell off of it, and broke on the floor.

At the same time Bobbie stopped, paralyzed. Ohh God. "Bobbie! Can't you control yourself better than that?" Mummie asked. "To think I was going to let you brush and comb my hair after Uncle Ned left... and I might even have allowed you to kiss my full breasts tonight... you've been trying to be such a good boy that I might've let you suck on my candies.. but not now! Forget it!" Bobbie hung his head.

As Bobbie stared at Mummie, she rubbed her full breasts and smiled demurely at him. "You poor thing, you'll never get to touch my honeys now... you just don't know how to act, smashing up my crockery, you know that?"

Uncle Ned looked at Bobbie sharply. "You've upset your mother, young man... you need some correction, that's for sure!" Uncle Ned looked at Mummie and she nodded sadly, and he stood up and began removing his belt.

At first, Bobbie looked at Uncle Ned officiously. "Ned, put your belt back on, this farce has gone far enough. I appreciate your relationship with my mother, but it doesn't give you license to... " Mummie chortled, and waved her hand to Uncle Ned. "You see what an impertinent boy my Bobbie is? You should give him a few extra licks for that, darling Neddie."

Bobbie noted that Uncle Ned now had the belt looped in his right hand, and began pleading. "P-please, don't make Uncle Ned h-hit me... Mummie, he's the chauffer... I can't bear being punished by him." Bobbie backed up as Uncle Ned advanced on him. Mummie shook her head.

"What a bad boy. Ned, I can't bear to see you do this. Why don't you take Bobbie into the other room, and take down his bloomers, and do him proud... and bring him back, darling. See if you can enforce some sort of obedience."

About midnight on the same evening, Robertson Russell limped out of his mother's house, with Ned Crawford, his faithful chauffer, behind him. "Mister Russell, sir, it was so nice seeing your mama again... " Ned smiled. "I hope I didn't lay it on too hard with the belt."

Robertson Russell looked bitterly at his chauffer "Goddamnit Crawford, shut your mouth and drive me home!"

"Sir, you know I am still wearing my belt" Crawford's white teeth gleamed in the night. "I might want to use it again... care to re-phrase your question?"

Burning with blushes, Robertson Russell murmured. "Uncle Neddie... please take me home now... if you want, I'll suck your wee-wee in the front seat, Sir."

The chauffer laughed. "Thass mo' like it!"

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Page last updated 2008-Aug-02 by: Altairboy@aol.com