Reader’s
Note: This is Joanne Swift’s journal, adapted for
reading, detailing the events around October 7th
(Friday) 2016 after school. Taylor has just left to babysit, and she
and her husband Tom are alone in the house.
“Nice tits!” I cannot properly express how shocked I was to hear my daughter say those words to me.
My asshole clenched and my stomach twisted into a knot as a creeping red embarrassment ran up and down my spine – my mind racing with a possible excuse or explanation. I was activating my primal fight-or-flight response, but unfortunately neither fight nor flight was really possible.
I should begin by telling you that for the last 16 years my husband and I have had a loving and devoted marriage that involved aspects of the BDSM lifestyle. My high school sweetheart and I split up, and I met Tom after my first child was born.
He readily adopted Donny, we married and had three more lovely children. Donny doesn’t even know he’s adopted – Tom is the only father he’s ever known. We’ve kept secrets like that together because there was no need to tell the kids that one of them was different than the others.
The same reasoning has kept us from ever addressing our committed BDSM relationship with the kids. It simply never seemed like anyone else’s business but our own. I’d always had a little bit of a wild and experimental side growing up, and I’ve played tie-up games since I was in my teens – but usually I was the one doing the tying and the boy was trying to figure his way out. I enjoyed very much the feeling of being in control and the ‘ownership’ of the boy’s testicles.
I won’t bore you with the details about how Tom introduced me to his version and views of BDSM, but when we started, the Internet wasn’t even really a ‘thing’. You had to learn about it from the back of dirty magazines and find sex toys in the back of stores that sold bongs and dirty VHS tapes in the same place. It had a much more sordid reputation than it does now.
Nowadays people can find a wealth of information about healthy and active BDSM lifestyles, order their sex toys with same-day delivery in a nice brown box with no fuss or muss, and even hook up with like-minded swingers.
We aren’t really swingers. We’ve experimented with other couples we met at an area munch, but that was in the early days of our marriage. Now, with the kids and his job, and the fact we just moved to Cherry Lawn – the idea of anyone else outside of the marriage just wasn’t discussed. What matters is we make each other happy and have developed appetites that the other satisfied in the bedroom.
Tom disciplines and trains me as his sex-slave.
This is all completely voluntary and consensual on my part. I love to serve him – he makes it a joy.
He’s never cruel or bitter or selfish. He never takes advantage of the situation or humiliates me. He isn’t lazy, and is always willing to do his part around the house and with the kids. He isn’t the kind who just sits back in his easy chair and claps his hands, saying, “Let it be done, woman!”
Our sessions always initially involve me wearing something sexy for him – of his choosing. He ties me up or has me stand a particular way, and then whips and flogs me. He starts over my clothes so that my body gets used to how the whip feels around me through the clothes, and then strips me; first to panties and bra, and then usually completely naked.
He doesn’t cause serious pain, but he’s left welts, bruises, and whip marks. I’m careful to wear modest clothing to cover them up; and I actually like the warm feeling of not only being in ‘sub-space’ while he’s whipping me, but the glow after it’s over. He always cuddles me and snuggles for some after-care in our sessions.
Tom has been working a lot of hours on a project lately at his job. We haven’t had a lot of energy or time at night to “play”, and the new house isn’t quite as private of a set up as the old house. Our room is upstairs with the kids’ bedrooms, and we’re sometimes afraid they may hear us through the walls when he spanks my ass.
Tonight I had gone to extra lengths to get the kids out of the house and give us plenty of ‘alone time’ together. My youngest was the most difficult because I had to get to know another stay-at-home mother who wanted to chat and get to know me before she let my daughter spend the night. My two sons were fairly easy – I gave them a little cash and pretended I was concerned that they be home on time. A little reverse psychology and the two of them wouldn’t be home until midnight at the earliest. I wasn’t worried about them because Donny will look out for his younger brother. He dotes on Scotty, and the two of them are basically good boys.
My eldest daughter, on the other hand, is a whole ‘nother kettle of fish! I based my entire plan on the fact that over a month ago Dave Vulgus, the neighbor, had inquired if my daughter would babysit for him should he need it. He wanted to surprise his daughter on her birthday, and he needed my daughter to watch his grandson so that the well-meaning kid didn’t spill the beans and ruin the surprise.
I was surprised when Taylor agreed to babysit him. I think she was only half-listening, as she usually does, when I mentioned it to her originally, but I made sure to mention it several times (they call it nagging) to remind her of the obligation.
Hearing her voice back in the house an hour after she’d left for babysitting was the last thing I expected, because she had to know how important this night was to the Vulgus family after I’d told her so many times.
However, there she stood – snarky expression on her face as she continued, “I gotta say that I always thought you’d be sporting Wynona’s big brown beaver and not the hairless look – really classy,” my daughter commented on my shaved pussy.
Tom requires me to shave three times a week and inspects my body fully every time he sees me naked. I usually enjoy being on display for him, but right now I just wanted to run out of the room and hang my head in shame.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t run.
I was standing completely naked except for heels and a collar, with my legs wide apart on two dining-room chairs in the living room near the couch; the chairs were surprisingly sturdy. My hands were cuffed behind my head. Tom tied me up here because it looked like the old owner of the house must have reinforced the ceiling fan with a hard-point. That’s Tom’s definition of something sturdy he can tie me up to that won’t easily break or fall down.
Tom had set the two chairs far enough apart that I wouldn’t fall, but I had to keep my legs shoulder-width apart. It felt precarious, but I knew I was safe with Tom. I was also fully on display and my pussy was wide open and visible – without a chance at modesty.
A chain hung down from the ceiling fan and was attached to my leather collar, a collar that had been on my daughter’s nightstand earlier. I’d seen it when I was cleaning her room, and decided to borrow it for tonight because it looked sexy.
I don’t want you to think I’m a thief. I am very well aware that my daughter uses my credit card to order things like this online – so technically I’m the one who bought it originally. I allow her to do that because she wouldn’t be caught dead shopping with me, and I always keep an eye on her purchases to make sure she doesn’t spend too much money. I think I actually get off pretty cheap for having a teenage daughter this way, because she probably tries to make sure her purchases are small enough that I wouldn’t notice.
If she knew me at all – she’d know I would definitely notice.
I’m aware of almost all of the things my kids do. Disgusting sticky socks under beds, porn websites on their computer history, fights and squabbles, bad grades – very little gets past me. I just pick my battles and choose not to always mention things I consider pretty normal experimentation.
Even if the website features horny cartoon Asian girls with the bodies of furry animals or having sex with octopus and squid, I just try and keep smiling. These are the trials that most modern mothers probably deal with, from easy access to porn online to a growing openness about their bodies. We have to adopt and adapt to our current environment or perish and stagnate.
At that exact moment, I assure you I wasn’t smiling, and neither was Tom.
Tom is actually a man of few words, and I decided to defer to him on this. We’ve never even discussed what would happen if one of our kids learned of the more sexual nature of our relationship, because it never seemed like a possibility. I’d made sure to hide all of our sex toys and bondage gadgets very well.
There’s more to our BDSM than just sex, though.
I never wake up a single day that I don’t know what the plan is going to be.
There are some people who may see that as boring or predictable, but Tom has a way of having a plan for the likely and a philosophy on how to deal with the unlikely that makes it easier to just delegate that part of our lives to him.
I take care of the house, keep the pantry full, and get the bills paid; and he’s the one who decides where we’re going to eat or what to do on a given weekend. I get a sense of satisfaction that as a team we’ve been able to handle all of the rough patches in our life.
Things felt like they were about to get a lot rougher.
“I’m not going to ask what you’re doing home,” Tom said to his daughter sternly. He made eye contact with her, but he wasn’t the one completely naked, with a jeweled butt plug, in handcuffs, either.
“I think I’d like to ask what you’re doing AT home, though,” my daughter’s snark revealed itself. We’ve known for years that she had an attitude problem. I actually saw a lot of myself in her face when I was at that age, and sometimes it scares me. I was never a Goth girl or whatever she dresses up as – but I had a rebellious side. I also grew up in a household with a former US Marine for a father, so he was quick to put me back in line when I showed it to him.
It may be for that reason we were a little more permissive, and let Taylor express her sarcasm without yelling or screaming at her. She’s relatively harmless, despite dressing like the Joker’s sidekick Harley Quinn. I didn’t think she did drugs, and she actually seemed to loathe most boys her own age, so I didn’t see her being promiscuous at all. If anything, I was a little worried she may never get married because she’d probably snap off the head of any guy who sniffed around her. I’d given up on setting up blind dates for her years earlier when she did just that to every one of them.
Taylor and her father spoke calmly, but she definitely felt she had the upper hand in this conversation – which she kind of did. She took the moral high ground and began to imply that she had the upper hand in this and all future negotiations because she’d caught us red-handed. I was worried she may be right, but Tom wasn’t even flinching.
Then again – he wasn’t completely naked and tied up, either.
“I can see that you’re hinting you may tell your brothers and sisters about what you’ve seen here,” Tom called her bluff. I wanted desperately to scream, but that isn’t possible with a ball-gag stuffed between your teeth. “That won’t turn out well for you, Taylor,” he promised.
“I never said I’d do that, Daddy,” Taylor played coy. She admitted she’d implied it: “I was just saying you may want to consider what would happen if I DID.”
“You may be angling for us to give you special treatment,” Tom began, but his daughter cut him off.
“Are you kidding?” she chuckled. “This is ‘find your mom and dad playing kinky sex games in the living room and they buy you a new car’ kind of stuff.” In Taylor’s mind she’d just won the lottery, and the prize was a blank check with no expiration date.
“Here’s what’s going to happen.” Tom said that he was prepared not to punish her for skipping out on Mr. and Mrs. Vulgus tonight. “I know how important it was to him that you do this, as he personally thanked me the other day when I was outside trimming the hedges. I am going to ASSUME you had a very good reason for that, and you’re going to get whatever you came in the house for and go back out that front door and not come home until midnight. Then we will never, and I mean never, speak of this night to each other or anyone else again. How does that sound?”
Tom can be very forceful. I wanted to add my own commentary, but with spit running down my chin onto my boobs – spectacular though they may be--I felt Tom had said it all.
“Consider my counteroffer.” Taylor’s wry wit was a blessing and a curse. I doubt I would’ve had the courage to make any sort of ‘counteroffer’ when my father told me to do something. I liked how empowered she was, but at the same I didn’t want to believe my own daughter’s audacity.
Could Taylor not see how mortified I was, tied up naked in front of my own teenage daughter? And if she could, how could she stand there blissfully listing off demands?
“Two full skip-days a month with a parent’s note for the rest of the school year,” she began. Then she went on to list all the chores she no longer had to do, including her turn to walk the dog. “It was never my idea to get a dog anyway,” she added. “A credit card with my name on it, and 50 dollars a week for incidentals,” along with about a half a dozen things I was certain Tom wouldn’t agree to.
“And just what does all this get us?” My strong-willed man folded his arms and looked down at his daughter. I knew Taylor wasn’t the kind to back down or get intimidated very easily.
“You get my silence on the matter and you can spank Mom anytime you like around me – I’d love to make a little popcorn and watch you pop her right here and now,” she grinned sheepishly. That evil little vixen!
They need to invent a word that combines mortified humiliation with the shocking feeling of getting caught by one’s own daughter, with her betrayal and selling you out, while taking pleasure in your pain.
“Counteroffer.” Tom’s voice deepened when he became no-nonsense and serious. “You get the fuck out of here now and I don’t give you the spanking of your life?”
We had never spanked our kids because they were generally good, and I think both of us were very sensitive to the sexual overtones from all the spanking Tom did to me.
I genuinely enjoyed his strong hands on my firm buttocks – that felt like nature intended it to be that way. He had many paddles, but his rough and strong hands were my favorite bondage toy, besides his sizable cock. I didn’t always get sexual pleasure directly from the spanking. I had actually been brought to tears before by his leather belt on my hindquarters, and yet the afterglow of the endorphins rushing through my body from the pain had brought me the strangest satisfaction.
I would also find the next day that I wanted to obey him more than ever. I didn’t want to be bratty to get in trouble, but my female instincts told me to crave his touch and another spanking. It wasn’t the fear of being beaten again that kept me in line, but rather being the object of discipline that made me crave more of it. I would find myself being more considerate, polite, patient, and playful. I found myself appreciating simple privileges that I took for granted when our sessions were over.
Tom had a very kinky imagination that went beyond simple spankings, and would come up with elaborate scenarios where I was his devoted pet. He’d tell me to be waiting with my leash or a crop between my teeth and sitting up with my hands in front of my bared breasts for him.
Speaking of bared breasts – I should say the exceptional tits my daughter saw are the product of lucky genetics and not surgery. All the women on my side of the family have been blessed with firm, well-rounded knockers that range from stripper-level oversized boobs to more like mine – stunning full-size D cup.
I’ve had women give me scornful looks and talk behind my back about how many plastic surgeries it would take to have tits like mine, but the truth is my grandmother’s tits never sagged and she lived to be 85 years old. She’d been a WAC in the US Navy and told me that they’d even saved her life once – when used as a flotation device. She spent 3 days in the Pacific Ocean, and met her husband who floated on her tits to safety with her.
Taylor knew my husband was bluffing and wouldn’t beat her. She confidentially admitted she was going to a party and came back for her collar. “The one mom took off my nightstand, actually.” She looked at me; I couldn’t dare return her gaze. I kept my chin up and looked straight ahead as if I wasn’t in the room at all.
“Well, you can have it.” Tom reached up and began to unclasp it from around my neck. I was thankful for the ball-gag because it meant I didn’t get to babble an incoherent string of nervous excuses.
“No need,” Taylor sat down on a plush living-room chair, crossed her legs and smiled like the Cheshire cat looking down at Alice as it lay in wait on a branch while she crossed through Wonderland.
“This seems far more interesting – I’d kind of like to watch you two in action.” She seemed impressed with us and not at all disgusted or freaked out.
I guess I should have expected that from her – but I didn’t expect her to be so amused by it.
“You aren’t interested in learning about any aspect of our BDSM lifestyle.” Ted became annoyed and took a crisp twenty-dollar bill from his wallet to suggest she take this now before he changed his mind.
“Oh, Daddy, but I AM interested! Intrigued, even.” She was having her laugh while patronizing us that she had any interest in BDSM. I knew Tom would see right through it.
“Your mother and I are in a long-term R.A.C.K.-based relationship involving domination.” He started to explain the concept of R.A.C.K., and I admit I never understood exactly what all of it meant. Tom is more of a details guy when it comes to those things, and explained “It’s just Safe, Sane, and Consensual except it involved consensual and accepted risk.”
They had long conversations about the differences between S.S.C. and R.A.C.K at the munches we attended in previous cities – but this felt like neither the time nor the place for this kind of discussion. I just wanted him to untie me and let me go hide my head in shame and let Taylor Google it if she really cared to know.
Tom clearly felt differently – that maybe she should understand what we were doing before judging it incorrectly.
“Safe, Sane and Consensual?” Taylor chuckled that it sounded more like “Boring, Stupid, and Perverted.”
“See? I knew you didn’t want to actually learn anything.” Tom twisted the whip in his hands and told her that he wasn’t going to put on a “show” for her tonight. “You’ve seen too much and I apologize for that. I once walked in on my parents having sex and I still shudder at that thought today.” Tom grinned, commiserating with her for the awful image he probably just put in her mind.
“Are you kidding? I never knew what a smoking-hot body Mom had.” I’d have been flattered if my daughter didn’t often come off like she was buttering you up just to throw a left-handed insult at you. She’d seen me in my workout clothes for the gym – skin-tight stretch pants. I was kind of in shock she hadn’t noticed. What’s the point of picking up dance classes like pennies on the ground when no one notices your abs and great butt?
“That body is mine and mine alone to enjoy.” Tom made me so proud when he ‘claimed’ me. It was making the bad situation a lot more palatable. “You’ve had your fun – now skedaddle, please, and let’s never speak of this again – it’ll be just between us. You’re getting to an age where you may start to experiment and…”
Taylor stopped him by placing her fingers in her ears and holding her eyes closed tight. “Dad – now is not the time for the sex talk!” She was smiling at the absurdity of her father’s dry lecture while I stood there naked, no doubt. “I’m a girl in high school. I have boobs,” she pointed to her chest and added, “I think I already know about sex and that it’s an option.” She rolled her eyes.
“If you do, then why are you still here?” He handed her the twenty-dollar bill and she took it.
“Give Mom 10 swats with that thing in your hand and I’ll go,” she promised.
Tom was not going to give her the satisfaction, but my daughter can be as stubborn as she is sarcastic, and we both knew that it may be easier to just do it and get it over with. She’d already seen me trussed up and bound – and it kind of added a little levity when Tom counted one and swatted my ass hard.
My eyes opened wide and Taylor laughed. It was not the wicked laugh she often did when she was being an ornery brat. It was more of an open and flowing laugh – the one she probably did naturally when she was being silly or goofy with her friends. I at least assumed she’d be silly with her friends, but I’d never heard the laugh before, so I was only speculating.
Tom smiled and swatted my butt with another over exaggerated swing of his arm and counted out each smack I endured.
Taylor actually got up out of her chair to look at me more closely. She got close to my body and looked up. “You don’t feel bad about hurting her?” she asked what seemed like a very honest question, as if fascinated.
“No, not in the least,” Tom at first realized how unsympathetic that must have sounded, because he explained that I enjoyed my role and that I got off on giving HIM pleasure. “Your mom knows I enjoy spanking her, and she gets her pleasure from giving me pleasure.”
He was so right, although I never heard him explain it that way. It must be the Libra in me!
I suppose we never had anyone ask such questions. The few times we had ever gone to professional dungeons or bondage events we always felt out of place and kept to ourselves. Those places only reinforced why we liked to do our bondage in the privacy of our own house and the safety of our own walls.
Yes, we fucked all over the house when the kids weren’t there. Tom made it a habit to break in every couch or countertop in the new house within our first week of arrival. We got off on doing it in weird places like that.
Taylor walked behind me – I was dreading her looking at my ass, but there was precious little I could do, and Tom was on number seven already. He would stop at ten as he always did.
“Wow, that looks like a lot of bruises back there.” Taylor still didn’t understand how Tom couldn’t feel the least bit guilty for whipping me.
“The endorphins your mom feels are numbing the pain. She goes into what is called sub-space if I do this long enough, and she doesn’t feel a thing except for a blissful ride of pleasure.”
“Yeeah-hah, right.” Taylor didn’t believe him, and asked what the crystal was up my butt.
I mentioned that I was beyond mortified to a state of total and utter humiliation earlier when caught red-handed mid-bondage in a game by my eldest daughter.
Take that feeling and imagine the most embarrassing moment of your life. The one etched into your brain so powerfully that you can relive the feeling’s aftershock just by thinking about that moment which seems to stretch on forever.
Now, double that feeling. You’re approaching how I felt when my husband just told my daughter about my butt-plug that I’d stuffed up my ass before this encounter.
“Holy shit!” She laughed that she had no idea what a ‘nympho’ I was. “How far in does it go? Can you take it out?” She dared to ask such a question of HER FATHER.
Tom, to his credit, took this in stride and told her that yes, he COULD take it out, but NO he wouldn’t be doing that. “Our deal was you would watch me strap your mother ten times. That was the tenth, and now we were good sports – so you be one and leave.”
“I don’t know that anything can top this!” My daughter was actually seriously impressed with us now, and she started for the door before my husband stopped her and reminded her that she was not to say a word to anyone about what she saw here tonight “ehvv-er!” Tom over pronounced ‘ever’ to emphasize that he was absolutely not kidding and for my daughter to take this secret seriously.
She nodded, saluted and left us alone.
Tom untied me and let me down without saying a word. We didn’t have our weekly session. Instead, my husband drew a soft bath for me with my favorite candles and music playing in the background, and after he washed me we had an amazingly intense night of love-making.