CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Reader’s Note: These are EXCERPTS from Joanne Swift’s Journal for October 10^{th (}Monday) night into the following day. Taylor has just told her brother that he is not Tom Swift’s natural son.

This wasn’t my finest hour, and I really offer no excuse or defense for my actions.

I will just tell you what I did when I saw red, but first let me tell you some backstory.

I know I tend to prattle on, but you really need to understand this. I don’t expect you to empathize with what I did after this, but I want you to understand it.

Taylor had just told my oldest son that Tom is not his natural father. Let me first tell you what that means to me – as it was not a simple bit of trivia or casual detail to me. If it were I would have thought nothing of telling him or any of our kids the circumstances of Donny’s birth.

Donny is called ‘Donny’ in part because I didn’t ever want to hear the name Don or Donald again. Don was my first husband and a total jerk. Don is a manipulator and a user and when we split he offered no support and wanted no visitation rights. Donny was unfortunately named after his biological father, but I wasn’t going to associate him with the bad feelings I had about his father. Hs middle name never stuck because when he was little he answered to Donny and only Donny.

So that is why I call him Donny Swift.

I was happy without Don, and moved on quickly with my life. I met Tom and he gladly accepted Donny as his own, and Tom has been the only FATHER my son has ever known. Don was just a sperm donor.

Taylor was born soon after Tom and I got married. She was a darling, happy baby, and honestly I don’t know where things went wrong, but she was always the different one – the darkness in her heart was evident by the time she went to kindergarten.

I remember being called to school because she bit another girl. I was told that during nap time she awoke and crept up ninja-style on her friend and bit her over a squabble they were having. Once she was caught and with no defense for her actions, she promptly bit her own self and pointed to her arm as evidence that the girl had bitten her first.

Scotty and Janie came along shortly after her and they all had their father’s blue eyes. Donny inherited my red hair, but the rest all had so much of Tom in them that it was clear Donny was definitely different than them. He was skinny and uncoordinated, where physical things came easy to the other kids.

Tom treated him no differently than his biological children with me. He even started calling Scott and Jane, “Scotty” and “Janie”, so they would seem more like a family unit. We tried to think of a way to do that with the name Taylor that would work, but it just didn’t lend itself to “Taylie”.

By the time Taylor Swift came on the scene musically, my elder daughter already hated the name Taylor. I think it may have been the fact that Donny, Scotty and Janie all sounded so similar and her name didn’t. It really didn’t matter, because the sugary-sweet pop star’s fame was the nail in the coffin for my daughter’s interest in being “Taylor Swift”.

Tom’s name is on Donny’s birth certificate, after Tom legally adopted him when we married. We don’t talk to Don any longer. We gave Don many opportunities to be in Donny’s life and it just never happened. I haven’t seen Don in a few years, but we’re friends on Facebook – for whatever that’s worth.

Taylor’s bombshell had made me angry – angry and vengeful.

You know all those phrases about a woman scorned, and coming between a mama and her cubs? Well, I can attest to the fact that my maternal instincts had been triggered, and I just kind of lost control of my senses.

I may have screamed a blood-curdling war-cry of fury – just to vent some of the immediate rage overflowing in me. I will admit that I was not the picture of poise and grace that Tom had trained me to be all these years. I was a mad mother and I was ready to carry out some justice for making Donny aware he was adopted.

The reason Taylor revealing this seemed like such a big deal to me – and I don’t expect anyone to really understand it – is that I love Tom so much that I equated him being Donny’s father with him being in Donny’s life.

By telling Donny that Tom was not his actual father – to me, Taylor was taking Tom out of Donny’s life.

I grabbed Taylor first by the hair and I began slapping her across the face, tits, ass, and any part I could grab or twist. I am not a heavy woman, but one thing BDSM has taught me was how to take pain, and by proxy how to inflict it on another woman the same way.

Taylor did try to fight back. I was actually surprised she had the audacity to even try. She was no punching bag. My daughter grabbed my hair and pulled my apron, but she had to know how futile this was because with every fiber in my being I had decided I was going to give her the beating she’d asked me for today.

“You asked me to beat the snot out of you,” I said as I slugged her hard in the tit.

“Not like this! Oh my god, I’m sorry! Why?!” she mumbled as I tossed her around.

Donny, to his credit, was trying to calm me down, but I really wasn’t ready to hear anything but her cries of pain and agony.

I pulled food out of the fridge and told her that if she thought getting fed a hot dog was rough, that she needed to open wide. I made a sadistic choo-choo noise and stuck one of Scotty’s jalapeno peppers in her mouth. I stuck it in her pussy, and I was just getting started. It didn’t take long for the oils from the peppers to make her dance and holler. It would have been comical watching her writhe and shake her tits and ass, helplessly unable to remove the pepper, if I hadn’t been so angry.

I fed her the one in her pussy and made her swallow it. “Want some cummy milk from your adopted brother to wash it down?” I forced her mouth open by holding her nose and poured directly from the almond milk carton into her mouth and down her chin.

I poured lemon juice on her pussy and clawed at her, holding her down. At one point I sat directly on her chest and force-fed her vanilla yogurt until her mouth was overflowing and it was falling all over her tits, so as not to waste the almond milk because we had less than half a carton left.

I dragged Taylor into the living room and spent the next 15 minutes beating her ass with Lucifer. I slapped her on every part of her body – from the back of the knees to the most sensitive parts.

This is not a pretty story, because I didn’t just beat her. I truly put my fist fully into her pussy and began to push while she screamed. I showed her how wet she was while she cried, and I stuck my fist into her mouth. I was about to take Antioch out so I could do the same to her ass when Scotty and Janie emerged from their bedrooms, awakened by Taylor’s anguished cries and my constant yelling.

“ARE YOU A STUPID CUNT?” I yelled a version of affirmation at her.

“Yes, Mistress! I am! I am SUCH a stupid cunt! I’ll never do that again!” She was crying so hard that her ribs were showing, and her body was heaving and shaking as snot-bubbles came out of her nose.

“YOU CANNOT DO IT AGAIN! YOU CAN’T TELL DONNY HE WAS ADOPTED AGAIN BECAUSE HE ALREADY KNOWS THAT TOM IS NOT HIS FATHER! WAS HURTING ME BY TELLING HIM WORTH IT? YOU GOT YOUR WISH! NOW YOU’RE GOING TO GET YOUR TITS RUN THROUGH THE WRINGER AND FLATTENED, AND THEN YOU’LL THINK TWICE ABOUT EVER WANTING IT AGAIN!”

I dragged her upstairs by her hair. I made Taylor crawl quickly behind me. She had lost her heels somewhere along the way and now only had her collar and wrist cuffs.

“Mommy, you aren’t supposed to punish her in private,” Janie said as I slammed the door to our bedroom and broke another of Tom’s established rules. I didn’t want them to see what I was going to do next.

“You want to resist? Please struggle, because if you struggle I’m going to make it worse!” I demanded viciously, as Taylor stood petrified and scared in the bedroom. I locked the door and lit two red candles.

I wanted to make it seem like she had nowhere to go, and I had all night to take her there.

That was a feeling of abject terror that I had only felt a few times in my own journey through dominance and submission, and always as the recipient and never the one to torture and discipline.

Tom had installed a hard point in our bedroom. It as one of the reasons we chose this as our room, because there was support for a winch and pulley that could be used to tie someone up and lift them off the ground in suspension so they can be whipped.

I had spent many nights suspended in it by various parts of my own anatomy, and would have never considered Taylor ready for anything quite as brutal. I made her voluntarily get into the harness and then bound her by her tits, shoulders, and hips, before securing her hands behind her.

I was no expert at knot-tying, but I had seen Tom’s demonstrations and did my best. I pressed the button to lift her off the ground and she panicked and struggled, kicking her feet.

Hanging there from the ceiling, she reminded me of a condemned prisoner being hung at high noon.

Once I lifted her off the ground, I pulled Antioch out of her ass and said, “You didn’t want to ask to have it removed? Too good to let your brother help you, even though you had to shit?”

I reminded her of the text I had earlier when she was babysitting.

Taylor cried and kicked. “I didn’t know he could! Please don’t kill me!”

“Kill you? That would be too good for you. I’m going to do something even worse! I’m going to make you live, knowing you’re a bitch that cannot be cured by any means known to man. Your curse is to go through life hurting people and shitting on the ones who try to help you, like your brother and me!” I stuffed Antioch in her mouth to mute her mumbles and apologies. “Finally, I have a remote control that actually works to silence the lies and manipulations that emenates from that gaping hole of deceit you call a mouth!”

Taylor’s blue eyes plead with me for mercy but I was berserk with rage and she knew she deserved this – she didn’t flinch away as I dressed her down.

“You do still consider Donny your brother, don’t you? Even though Donny is ADOPTED and not a full brother?” I asked sadistically, and Taylor frantically shook her head up and down agreeing that she did consider him a brother.

“You’d say anything to save yourself.” I lifted her up in the air and spent the next 90 minutes whipping her with crops. Tom had things that leave welts and bruises and really sting, and he’s an expert in their use.

I’m an expert at absorbing pain for Tom’s amusement – which I applied to my daughter to extract a mother’s vengeance for hurting her eldest son – but there was more to it than that. I was hurt – I felt betrayed. I was doing this to Taylor to satisfy my own anger at this point.

I used every nasty toy or punishment Tom had ever done to me that I could think of, and I must say I enjoyed watching Taylor’s reaction of shock and pain. She cried and drooled and snot-bubbles popped out of her nose as she tried to compose herself. I felt the slipperiness of her pussy despite the discomfort and anguish I was causing her – her body was in pain and yet she was involuntarily aroused.

“Only a wicked bitch gets off on hurting her brother the way you did, and only a wicked bitch gets turned on by this kind of treatment.” I promised that I would find the threshold where she no longer got aroused.

Tom has a series of weights that hang by chains on a clip. They are mostly lead fishing sinkers, but some of them are metal balls with spikes, like mini-flails that can be clipped to nipples or pussy lips. They weigh between a quarter of a pound and 2 pounds each.

“Let’s see how wicked a bitch you are.” I said I would keep adding weight to her pussy lips until I thought she wasn’t actually getting off on it. I got to 5 pounds on each pussy lip, and her normally tight and puffy pussy lips hung down a full three inches, holding her vagina wide open.

She was in agony, but stoically let me pile on weights without resistence, so that when I started on her nipples she was prepared for whatever I could throw at her. I hung 4 pounds from each nipple.

“You’re going to pull off my nipples, Mistress!!” she screamed through the gag.

“Wouldn’t that be a shame? Then whatever would I have to pull you around the house by?” I grabbed her pussy hood and pressed down on it with my thumb really hard. I had saved this for last: now that her clit was exposed between the two parted pussy lips, I attached a half-pound to it.

I spun her around and let the balls between her legs clack together and stretch her more. “BDSM ceiling fan!” I laughed wickedly at a joke a dominant in one of the dungeons in Georgia had told us after doing the same thing to his submissive and spinning her on a hanging rack.

She was hung by actual hooks in her own skin, though.

“You think this is tough? We’ve barely gotten started!” I told her, and I pulled out a vacuum gun to apply suction to Taylor’s tits. I removed the weighted clips and applied a plastic cup to her nipple. On one end of the cup is a hole and the gun goes through that hole. You press the trigger several times to suck out all the air and create a super-puffy and semi-painful version of the nipple, shaped like the cup.

I put another one over her entire tit once I finished on her nipples.

Then I removed the weights from her pussy lips.

Taylor was kicking her feet and screaming “No, No! No!”

“You don’t get to tell me no. That isn’t how this works,” I explained to her with a leather whip as I let it lash across her body. The whip makes an awful cracking noise that can scare the piss right out of a submissive, but it never breaks the skin like a real bullwhip. It still stings and leaves a nice long red mark along the length of where it hit. “Donny didn’t get to decide for you not to tell him he was adopted.”

After that Taylor seemed to accept that she was the fly to my spider and this was my web. She wasn’t going to escape, and her resistance would only make me angry. She allowed me to spread her legs and pump all the air out of her pussy and pull the pink inside of her pee-hole so that it was on the outside of her body.

Her bright blue eyes widened as she looked down and saw that she had what looked like a small dick as her sweet peach-like vagina meat had been sucked out and flopped between her youthful legs.

“Oh, don’t like that? Let’s see what else you don’t like.” I went through our sex-toy closet and tried to find what may have worked for the Spanish inquisition. I wanted to go medieval on Taylor.

Tom has a few things that can be painful, but after I went through his whip collection I was left wondering what else may be useful to teaching a bitch to watch her mouth.

I picked up one of the red candles from earlier and dripped red wax all up and down her arms. She screamed as I drizzled the melted wax onto her shoulders and then her tits.

I knew I was too close, and doing it from about six inches from her arm would burn her. “Good thing you shaved off all your arm hair! Wonder how all this will feel on the bottom of your feet and around your bare asshole. You missing Antioch in that fart box of yours?”

She didn’t resist, but I could tell from the pain in her eyes that this was pure agony, and I smiled with absolutely no remorse. I knew exactly how it felt, but Tom would never have approved dripping wax only a few inches above the skin. I didn’t care – I didn’t want this to be sensual.

I wanted her to have a bite out of a bowl of Hell.

I would have slammed her tits in between two bookends and put mousetraps on her pussy lips, if I had them available. I probably would have hit her with a hammer and smashed her nipples, if I’d thought about it.

Taylor couldn’t speak because I’d gagged her with one of my largest latex double-donged dildos, so she could only mumble what I assumed were false promises and fake apologies for the unforgivable.

“I’m getting bored with this, and your brothers and sister will be wondering where you are.” I let her down and took the dildo out of her mouth, but didn’t untie her.

“I’m so sorry, Mistress! I’ll apologize to Donny, I’ll do whatever you tell me!” she promised. She was genuinely scared.

“Yes to both. But you will not wake him up to apologize. It’s probably 2 A.M. right now.”

It was 2:44 A.M., and we had begun this ordeal around 11:45 PM.

I locked a spreader bar to her ankles so that her feet would remain apart more than shoulder-width. I wrote “Stupid Whore” on her chest in magic marker, and then I pulled out my tripod.

The tripod is a stand that goes between a woman’s legs, and a dildo is affixed to it. I raised Taylor high enough that I could lower her back onto the tripod and attached one of the medium-sized neon green dildos I have. I believe his name is Julio.

“You should love this.” I dropped her slowly on the dildo and told her that she better work her pussy onto it. “No, before you ask, my little virgin slut, this is NOT how it feels to have sex with someone. I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough, but it’s a close approximation. You think you know everything. You don’t know shit, but I’ll teach you,” I said sadistically, still furious with her for what she’d said to Donny. I turned on a switch at the bottom of the tripod, that turned a piston, that automatically fucked the dildo in and out of her pussy.

I won’t defend my rage here, but I think I was also angry about a lot of other things Taylor had done or said in the past before the training began. Tonight I had seen SO MUCH improvement, and I think if I hadn’t I would have chalked up her behavior to how she was. The fact that she could and had improved with discipline, though, made me feel utterly betrayed when she just casually told my eldest son that Tom wasn’t his father. It was as if perhaps she’d been faking this change in her all along, and it had all finally pushed me into a frothing rage like a madwoman.

I can also say that my passions run deep, and without Tom’s touch and direct discipline I’d become quite frustrated. I had flirted with that man in the grocery store unnecessarily; I’d been toying with the neighbor; and even though I felt guilty about those things, I also felt a sense of justification because Tom simply wasn’t home and I COULD do those things.

My daughter’s eyes were wide now with a lusty fear. She wanted to get even with me – I could tell that much – but she was too afraid to dare question me. She complied with my orders reflexively.

“Oh girly…” I told her that in no uncertain terms she was going to get that satisfaction. “You belong to me now. I own you, and your father owns you. He isn’t Donny’s father, but he is yours, and you belong to us. We’re going to make your little life hell by making you exist in the world of shit you surrounded everybody else with! I am going to stick your nose so far up your own ass you will be breathing your own farts!” I promised.

I was mad with rage, and hadn’t stopped taking out my frustrations and anger on her.

Tom and I hadn’t made love in a week, and despite my daily trainings and affirmations I had proven that I could be rattled. I was quite satisfied Taylor may never try to rattle me again, but to be sure, once I brought her down from the suspension device, I told her that she would spend a night upside down or hanging from her tits after this if she thought I’d run out of training techniques.

I left the spreader bar on her and told her that she’d be using that a lot from now on. “You like spreading your legs? You like fucking with people? This is perfect,” and I pushed her out the door with a floppy dick-shaped dildo hanging from her mouth.

I walked her down the stairs slowly. She couldn’t bend her knees, so she could fall at any time if I didn’t help her.

“You see this? I’m making sure you don’t fall. I don’t know why. It may do us all a favor if I let you.” I didn’t mean any of that. I was out of my head and obsessed with vengeance, and Taylor was frightened enough at this point that she complied with all of my orders.

It took a while to waddle her downstairs. Sandor started to bark and he shut up as soon as I glared at him. I must have had an angry, ugly look on my face because normally I have to tell Sandor to be quiet.

“I’m supposed to punish you in the living room, so here you will stay until someone needs you in the morning. In fact, I think your room will make a nice crafting room for me. I’m moving you to the living room permanently. I think you’ll like it here, and if not – too bad.”

She nodded agreement and sniffed. I wiped away the tears on her face and leaned in close.

“We’re just beginning, my dear Fart Face. If you thought I don’t punish hard, you just learned an important lesson about passing judgment. You’re not to close a door here ever again. You’re going to apologize your ass off to Donny tomorrow, and if I’m not satisfied with the results of that, I’ll keep you home from school tomorrow. I can educate you here in more important things, because math and English will be of no value to someone who doesn’t even have the basic human decency to know the difference between right and wrong.”

I took her gag out and said that dildo was going with me. I was ready to fuck – and anything, even the stranger in the grocery store, would do at the moment. I wanted an angry fucking because I was running on 100% adrenalin and wouldn’t be able to calm down.

Taylor was breathing heavily as she stood in the living room with her hands bound behind her in a spreader bar. “I didn’t know he was adopted! It was a lucky guess!” she sputtered.

“Sure, you didn’t,” I said, and reminded her how many lies she’d told that night about Mr. Vulgus making her stroke him off. “There was no luck about it, you little bitch!”

“We all have blue eyes and he has brown. He’s tall and we’re average size. We’re naturally athletic and he isn’t. He’s a brain and we aren’t. Donny has a massive schlong and no one else in the family does. I honestly guessed and I didn’t know the repercussions!” she swore.

I didn’t believe her. A part of me wanted to, but a part of me knew she was saying that to get out of punishment and make me feel like a bad person.

If it was true, then not only had I been the one to actually confirm Tom wasn’t his biological father, but it meant I had gone off on a rampage for no real reason. There was no excusing my rampage, and I really hadn’t considered the consequences of my actions. I already knew I had abused my authority, but I was unwilling to consider even the possibility that I had abused someone innocent – at the very least, she’d said it, and that was enough for me.

I set up the tripod downstairs. Her eyes widened as I guided her to slide her pussy down on a purple vibrator of mine. The dildo had pearls at the base that turned slowly and gyrated, capable of causing tremendous pleasure, especially on the lowest setting where it teased a girl just to the edge of pleasure without letting her fully orgasm. I told Taylor I could think of worse things than to spend the night with “Peter”, and promised she would be getting used to him spending time with her.

Peter is 5 inches long and 1.5 inches wide and has three settings. I told her that I always use rechargeable batteries, and that a responsible woman keeps her dildo batteries freshly charged. “There’s enough power here to run this all day tomorrow, so if I decide to keep you home from school you’ll regret it. I suggest you wise up and be ready to behave at school tomorrow after you apologize to your brother. I’m going to set this on the lowest setting, but if you try to get off this dildo I’ll put you back in the saddle with Peter at the highest setting,” I warned.

I had left her with a spreader bar holding her feet apart, with a metal tripod between her legs holding a dildo straight up. I forced her to set her weight on the dildo, and then kept her hands cuffed behind her. The red wax had already dried on her tits and arms, and she looked completely wrecked with her hair totally out of place.

I left Antioch in her mouth and her asshole free and empty, still dripping from spit. “I’ll let this air out,” as I patted her ass, “ You can find out in the morning how hard it is to re-insert after your asshole tightens up and isn’t so loose.” I chuckled at the so called-gift I was giving her. I wanted to make sure she would learn to appreciate the constant training of the plug in her anus.

Once I felt I had done everything I wanted to do that night, I said good night.

I flicked off the living room light and left her standing in the living room until morning, shaking and gyrating on the tripod with sweat, almond milk, and her pussy dripping alone in the dark.

I went to bed and masturbated myself furiously until I passed out – without Tom’s permission, and I didn’t care.