Janet stared helplessly at the ceiling, feeling the strips of ripped up pillowcase around her wrists and ankles, watching out for her husband. He was parading up and down the room now, searching out something that would make an appropriate weapon to use on his helpless wife. Then his eyes landed on a small riding crop that was mounted on the wall above the mantle. He walked over to it, and took it down.
He walked back to the bed, and began running the leather crop up and down her nude torso, stopping by the nipples to rub them with the small bit of leather that stood out at the end of the crop. This would be his weapon when he eventually decided to use it on her ass, but for now he would tease her, make her hot, reduce her to a quivering, desperate pussy in need of a fuck, and so desperate to get it that she would endure any pain just so that she would get fucked.
He ran the crop up to her mouth, forcing her lips open with it, forcing her to lick and kiss the whip. Then, growing tired of this mild foreplay, he lifted the crop into the air, and brought it down with a vicious smack on her thighs. He hurt. He worked over her thighs, then forced the crop into her slippery cunt, ramming the instrument in and out, watching the mixture of intense pain and pleasure that shot over her features.
He finished with this, and untied her so that she might be punished on the spot that would feel it most acutely, her smooth, milk colored ass. He bound her hands behind her, and forced her to stand in the center of the room, bent over at the waist. He stood behind her, exposing her by pulling down the pair of crotchless panties that he forced her to wear night and day in case she was ordered to give herself to him when he was in a rush, and didn't have time to mess around with clothing. He ran the crop up and down the backs of her thighs, and when he thought she had been lulled into relaxing just a little bit, he brought the instrument of discipline down cruelly upon her quivering ass. "You bitch," he hissed at her. "I'll make you pay for your disobedience. You goddam bitch!"
CHAPTER ONE
Janet Reed sat in the living room of her well furnished suburban home, drinking the last drops of whiskey that remained inside the glass. She spilled a few drops, and watched them fall onto the carpet. She normally would have gone to clean it up, for she was a meticulous housekeeper, but today she was not in the mood for cleaning up after herself. She did not really care about anything this particular day, except for getting drunk, and that was something that she was now in the process of doing. This had been her second very strong drink, and since she felt no real effect from the booze yet, she walked over to the liquor cabinet, and poured herself another.
Janet was getting drunk, because it seemed to her that her life had reached a crisis point, and she was determined to force matters to a head this evening. She had put up with enough nonsense from her husband, and was going to stand for no more. He was a successful lawyer, and she had married him in the hopes that he would make her something close to totally happy. But that was not the way it had turned out. It had turned into a nightmare, and as she swilled the next drink, a tear came to her eye as she thought of her shattered dreams.
She was twenty-six years old. Her husband was four years older and they had met one day when she came into the office he worked in to train for the receptionist's job. They had taken an immediate liking to each other, and had gotten married after a whirlwind courtship. They honeymooned in the Orient, and came back home to settle down into a lovely home that Philip, her husband, had been given by his parents. Everything seemed ideal. They would live a lovely life together, raise children, and become pillars of the community. It was everything that Janet had wanted.
Or so she had thought. Phil had not screwed Janet before they were married. He seemed like kind of a square, old fashioned type, and Janet had simply chalked it up to that. But on the first night of their honeymoon, he had fallen asleep rather than make love to her. He pleaded fatigue, saying that the long day had worn him out, and that he wanted to be up early for the flight to Tokyo that they were to catch the next day.
During their trip, he had been very romantic, spending lots of time kissing her, massaging her, trying to make her feel comfortable. And yet, he seemed to have very little interest in either prolonging the sex act, or in applying himself very diligently to its practice. Once they had fucked once, he would roll off of her, and resist all of her efforts to start another round of love making. He would always wait until late at night, and then he would fall asleep very soon afterwards. This disturbed Janet to no end. She had been very well experienced sexually, and enjoyed the carnal arts. She was even a bit insulted that this was the case, but decided that she could live with it for a while. He knew that she was more of a pro at it than he, so she even considered that she might be intimidating him.
There had also been the factor of his upbringing. Janet hadn't gotten Phil to discuss his past very much, but what she had learned indicated that his father had been a rather strict disciplinarian. He had never been one to spare his children the lash when he felt that they deserved it, and he apparently had thought they deserved it on numerous occasions. They had been forced by their parents to undergo considerable religious training, and Phil had even been forced into a religious order by his parents. He left after a sympathetic priest had talked with him and told him he felt that Phil had not been cut out for the religious life.
So maybe, Janet had reasoned, he was just shy about sex, one of those men who don't get to learn the full joy of sexual activity until a comparatively late age. She could teach him, she had thought. But nothing seemed to stoke his fires. After their return home, he had hardly fucked her at all. He did at first, but then they fell into a pattern where they screwed only once or twice a week, then once every week and a half, then once a month. It had now been nine months since her honeymoon and Janet had not felt her husband's rock hard cock stuck up her wet cunt in well over six weeks.
Six weeks, she thought to herself. If this doesn't change, I'm going to go crazy.
She had already finished the third drink, and now poured herself another. She was starting to get to the point now where she didn't give a damn about anything, and that sure felt like a good place to be. Maybe the paperboy would come a day earlier than usual, and she could take him upstairs and rape him. What the hell, he was thirteen, and nobody should remain a virgin that long.
She had been willing to take this treatment from her husband, for she truly loved him, and wanted to help him. He had remained very nice to her, and had given her everything else that she might have wanted. It was the most important factor in a marriage that she was missing, however, and it meant too much to her to totally ignore. She had put up with it for a long time, but finally decided that she had to do something to clear the situation up, and the night before, that's exactly what she had done.
She had seen him off to work as usual, and he had left her with the same sterile kiss that he left on her cheek every day. She had been more depressed than usual, for some reason. Maybe it was because her period had just ended, and she was feeling bad that another month, another irretrievable month had slipped so quickly, so sterility, so coldly and cruelly by, and she was again not pregnant. She had wanted to have children right away, and the fact that she couldn't as long as her husband didn't start changing his habits radically was driving her to distraction all day. She went up to the bedroom, and began trying on some of the short nighties that she had purchased in anticipation of the marvelous times that they would be sharing in the sack. She tried on the ones that actually covered her flesh, and the see-through ones. She admired herself in the mirror, looking at her tits, holding them up and squeezing them together, running her hand down to her pussy, and letting the fingers pick up the moisture that was forming inside. She ran them against her clitoris, and fell back on the bed. She turned on the radio, hoping to get some music, but by the time the commercials were over, she was too far into her sexual fantasies to get up and change the station when she found that it was just a talk show. She tried to tune it out, but then a few key words began slipping in, and she began to listen.
The announcer was talking quite unabashedly about sex. He wasn't using curse words, nor did he make any searing comments. Instead, he asked some questions of his guest, a woman gynecologist who would answer occasional telephone calls, and give people advice on how to pep up their sex lives. Janet ceased masturbating, and pricked up her ears.
Most of the talk was technical, concerning various techniques that the average married couple might engage in to prolong orgasms, or prevent premature climaxes. But after a good long while, she related the following incident to demonstrate the relative importance of psychology.
"One patient of mine was a woman who did not feel that either she or her husband were the firecrackers that they used to be, and decided that the reason for this was that they had simply been making love in the same manner for too long a period of time, and that they each could anticipate the others moves to an uncanny degree. This disturbed my patient, whom I'll call Mary, and she decided that she was going to spice up her life a bit. After all, she was only thirty-six, and she wanted to make love more than just five times a week." Five times a week and she wants to spice up her life, thought Janet.
"Anyway, she went out and bought what she knew to be her husband's favorite food for dinner, and prepared that for him. She got a couple of bottles of champagne, and for the piece de resistance, stripped nude, and wrapped herself up in plastic wrap."
Janet could see the light bulb over her head as the idea shot around her skull with the giddy mobility that accompanies delight. What a brilliant idea! She would do the same, wrapping herself up in all the wrap she could find, and greet her husband at the door, stark, raving nude. She would have his favorite meal prepared, and she would set it up for him while he, absolutely tired by a full day at the office, would take a shower, restoring some of his energy, and ridding him of the accumulated grime of a hard day's work. They would devour the food, and then she would slowly seduce him, getting him to unwrap his gift and feast on it.
She immediately ran to the supermarket. She chose Cornish hens, along with the usual vegetable, and got the champagne and put it on ice immediately. She went about straightening up the house, wanting it to look not just clean, but to have it sparkle with a glow that he'd appreciate. She'd clean every nook and cranny, dusted every table top, everyplace where she thought that it might do some good. Then she washed and waxed the floors, hoping that she would be ready in time for Phil's arrival at about six o'clock.
She worked up a heavy sweat working, and finally got everything done at a couple of minutes before five. She looked at what she had done, and decided that it was good. She went to the bathroom, and ran herself a luxuriously hot bath. She would soak every pore, so that she would be in a state of maximum relaxation and openness for her hubby.
She was out of the tub, at quarter to six. She felt both fresh and invigorated. She dreamed of what Phil would do to her. She felt the hand running up her thigh, stopping just short of her crotch, teasing her with a few delightful tickles before withdrawing to a less sensitive part of her anatomy. She watched him in her mind's eye, walking around her, taking the end of the plastic wrap, walking around her, peeling it off gradually, layer by layer, until the last bit came apart, and her skin was freed. She felt her tits, snugly confined by the plastic, pop out into the gorgeously free air, and he took them in his hands, and made her nipples stand out. Then, once she had stripped him nude, she saw his prick come up, grow as she brought him to full attention. Then they would go to bed, and his resistance to any kind of sex would crumble into dust.
She took the wrap, of which she had bought plenty, and starting up around her tits, she wrapped it around her body, encasing herself inside the transparent sheen. She wrapped so that she gradually covered herself to just below the pussy, and then took another roll to add a second layer. It would be best, she thought, to put it on thickly enough so that he has a little bit of trouble seeing what I have to offer underneath. By the time she was wrapped to her satisfaction, a good bit of time had passed. She was usually very clumsy with this kind of kitchen product, and she was beginning to get so excited, she could barely control her fingers. They fumbled with the clingy substance again and again, but she finally managed to fulfill her task, standing and staring at herself in the full length mirror for several minutes so that she looked exceedingly sexy.
She padded about the kitchen, doing what little there was left to do, hoping that no one innocently came by and caught her in this present state of dress. Luckily, no one did. It was twenty minutes after six when she heard the car come into the driveway, and she heard the hum of the electronic garage door opening, giving Phil entry to their domicile.
He came around to the front door, and Janet, wearing nothing but sandals and plastic wrap, positioned herself in front of the door for maximum effect. Phil opened the door, and stared at her. He had the look of a man who had just seen something that was so strange he was convinced it was from another universe. His mouth slowly opened until it reached the position that one would describe as his jaw having dropped.
Janet didn't know what to do. Phil just stood in the doorway, not moving, not talking, not even registering much surprise. This last was what disturbed her. She had expected something like total shock, and had been prepared to come on with some pseudo-tough talk, just something to get him hot and horny. But now she couldn't very well say anything because she was totally unsure as to how he would react. This threw her a little, and the Mae West grin that had been smeared all over her face vanished. She drew back, even changing her hands on hip stance, as she began to feel distinctly embarrassed.
After a painfully long time, Phil snapped out of it, grinned weakly, and looked into her eyes for the first time. "Gee," he mumbled, "that's really weird. I sure never expected to see that." He went upstairs to the bedroom, ignoring her completely.
Janet stood there, completely stunned. She hadn't figured on this kind of reaction at all. She walked into the kitchen, wondering what she was going to do. She decided to give him a chance. He had smiled before going up to change. Maybe she had come on a bit too strong by doing this. She would just have to give him a little bit more time to rouse his libido.
He came back into the kitchen, still wearing the shirt he had worn to work, and his suit pants. "Dinner sure smelled good," he said, sitting down and starting to read the evening paper. "What is it, Cornish hens?" Janet figured that this was a good opening to pursue.
"You've got a great sense of smell, lover boy," she drawled, sitting on the floor so that she could put her head on his knee. "If only you had as good a pair of eyes as you do nostrils." He lifted the paper to look down at her.
"Oh, the plastic you're wearing. I thought you knew that I recognized it, I said something at the door about it. Very original idea." He put the newspaper back in front of his face, abandoning the sliver of conversation Janet managed to begin. She stared at the newspaper in front of her in disbelief. Just what the hell was the matter with this jerk, did she have to wear a sign around her neck saying "I Want To Fuck!" and rape him?
"It's not very original," she told him. "I got the idea off of the radio earlier today. This gynecologist said her sex life was back in high gear by doing this for her husband. She was feeling that her sex life wasn't as vital as it used to be because she had been married for a few years, and her husband and her were used to each other and not as thrilled anymore."
Phil continued to read the paper, not even listening to what she was telling him. Janet stared up at the paper, becoming very furious. "She wasn't getting enough," she went on, willing to do anything to get any kind of reaction to what she was saying. "They only used to screw about five times a week."
Phil kept his eyes on the paper, but a shot of tension ran through his body. Janet could see this by the way that he suddenly gripped the edges of the paper. "Using language such as that habitually now will only make it more difficult later on," he said, his voice beginning to quiver. "When we have children, I'm sure that you won't want them to grow up to be foul-mouthed brats."
"When we have children," Janet said, very evenly. "How are we going to manage that feat? You haven't fucked me in six weeks!" Phil suddenly shut the paper angrily, glaring down at his wife.
"To some people, there are more important things in life than merely satisfying carnal appetites," he hissed. "There are things like building a career, providing for one's loved ones, becoming a respected member of the community ... "
"A hell of a lot of people," she angrily interjected, "manage to do all of those things and still ball their wives every now and then. How the hell do you think you're going to have loved ones if you don't start putting it to the loved one that you have right now?"
Phil slammed the table with his fist, his anger subsiding as he physicalized his rage. "I don't wish to discuss this any further," he told her. "Dinner would appear to be ready. Please put it on the table, as I am quite hungry, and I will go up to the bathroom, throw some water on my face, and try to put this very foolish incident out of my mind." Janet sat on the floor after his exit, the very picture of cool, steely anger. She was suddenly disgusted with everything. What the hell did he think she was, anyway? Just something to clean his house for him and cook his meals? If that was all he had wanted, a maid and cook would probably end up being cheaper than a wife. Loved ones? Watch your language in front of the children? What the hell did he plan on doing, adopt a family? Had anyone bothered to tell him that there was a connection between the frequency and the birth rate? What in God's name was going on here?
She heard him running the water in the bathroom, and got up, practically throwing the dishes and food into place. Well, she thought, she would go through the motions of enjoying her dinner. Maybe she could even manage to have a good time for herself. She was going to pretend that the "very foolish incident," as he had described it, hadn't happened. She had worked too hard this day to be disappointed again.
They sat down and ate in silence. Janet sat regally in her chair, the plastic wrap still on, found it to be a not too uncomfortable fabric, She found it even very pleasant, sensuous, limiting her movement somewhat, but still enabling her to function more or less normally. It was flexible, and she had been generous enough in putting it on herself that it didn't start to unravel, she had feared it might. Of course, she hadn't really thought that she was going to have it on this long.
She poured the champagne. Phil had brought out the newspaper again to have something to read. But Janet got up and paraded over to him. She poured him a glass of champagne, practically knocking his glasses of his face with her plastic encased tits. He was annoyed at this, so she bent over to scratch her ankle, turning her ass up so that it was right in his line of vision. He kept his eyes on the paper, but she wiggled her backside very fast, squealing "Ooh, that little itch on my footsie just won't go away!" She stood up, wiggled her ass one more time, then walked back to her seat, pursing her lips and making kissing noises as she tip-toed rapidly back to her place.
Phil was getting more and more annoyed as he watched this out of the corner of his eye, saying nothing. She could tell that she was having an effect though. He was finding it more and more difficult to just sit still and read. He would turn about in his chair, facing every which way, then going through them all again as they all proved equally unsatisfactory. Janet kept up her silly parody of female seductiveness, leaning halfway across the table, and striking ridiculous poses as she consumed her food and champagne as orgiastically as possible.
She picked one of the drumsticks on her hen and put its rounded end first into her mouth, stopping it just short at first, then greeting it with the tip of her tongue. This wasn't enough to catch Phil's eye, so she moaned a bit. He stared up at her with a jolt, and she cooed, "oh, so fantastic, God only knows how I could have lived so many months without eating it!" She shoved it into her mouth, stripped all the meat off with her teeth, and withdrew the naked bone. She masticated the meat really fine, then washed it down with a gulp of champagne, licking her lips as she did so.
Phil stared at her in something like horror. He shook his head, then returned to the newspaper. Janet grabbed a handful of the meat, and ran it over her face, smearing it around the entire mouth area before taking it and chewing. She swallowed more champagne, and gave another gurgle that caught her husband's glance. She picked up a hand full of the stuffing and swallowed it in the same manner. "God, I need this stuffing, need it so bad, need it to be filled and stuffed myself. I wanna be stuffed with meat, damn, more meat than I can handle!"
Phil stared at her, obviously angry, unsure of the best way to say something without actually acknowledging that he was angry. He finally looked down at the paper and mumbled "I'm sure there are places that will cater to your whims very nicely. It's just a matter of looking hard enough."
Janet suddenly felt an urge to walk over to him and punch him in the balls, if he had any left at this point. The goddam nerve! It wasn't as though she was asking for anything out of the ordinary. She was asking Phil for the most natural thing in the world, a dick up her pussy. She had been able to understand his reluctance before they were married, if indeed he had been a very religious person, but goddammit, they were married! If married people couldn't fuck, how the hell could there be anyone to pass religion on to?
She wanted to make him angry. When he did get angry, he would seldom admit to it. He would stare her down, trying to think of some clever line with which to annoy her, and once he had come out with it, turned away with a self satisfied smirk, going back to whatever it was that he had been doing.
Something occurred to her. She picked up a long bread stick out of the bread plate, and began running her tongue along it in the most obvious and suggestive manner that she could manage. He was able to ignore this, but she began groaning again, suddenly moving it in and out of her mouth very rapidly, making noises as though she was about to come. Suddenly, she stopped, leaving it about halfway in her mouth. Phil was staring in wide-eyed horror. She reached up, took the end of the bread stick in her fist, and snapped the extended piece in half.
Phil flew into a rage. He picked up his glass as though ready to throw it, sending a stream of bubbly that struck Janet as well as flying all over the room. He held it aloft over his head as though ready to throw it at her. She shrunk up into a ball, and shrieked with fright. He stood there, his chest heaving, the breaths coming out in heavy groans. Then, slowly, he composed himself. He sat down, got his breath under control, began eating and reading again as though nothing had happened. He stayed there for a few minutes, then broke into a grin and chuckled at Janet. "You pervert." He said it without even looking up at her. "You dumb pervert."
This was all Janet could tolerate. She began to scream at him, no longer caring what might happen. "Pervert!" she yelled. "I'm a lousy pervert just because I want to go to bed with my fucking husband? Listen, you friggin' creep, I don't have to stand for this. I can sue you for alienation of affection and get myself a very nice settlement, and then I'll be free to run around with people who have a natural craving for my body. I've wasted my time being faithful to you, and for what? So you can drink when you get home, watch all those lousy television shows with the chicks with jiggly tits so you can get off what few rocks you have, and then fall asleep every night? I told you that I wanted a family, goddamit, and how the hell did you think we were going to have one if you didn't screw me?"
"I'm sorry," he said, in the tone he adopted when he had irked her enough to get upset. "I had no understanding, or sensitivity with regards to that, did I?" His tone, sneering and sarcastic, was more than she could stand.
"You sure didn't. And don't you dare pretend that you didn't tell me that a family was one of your top priorities. I got off the pill, did you think I did that because I didn't want to fuck? I want children. I want the thing that people supposedly get married for, I want to be made love to!"
"I think that we have had intercourse on a number of occasions since getting married."
"Yeah, a number of occasions. A number that you can reach by counting your toes and fingers. We've been married ten months, are you waiting for the anniversary night or something? I'm going crazy, you haven't screwed me in six weeks, and on the rare occasions that we do fuck, you do it once regardless of whether or not I've come. What the hell did you marry me for, you impotent asshole?"
He jumped out of his seat when he heard this. He threw his plate across the room by sweeping the back of his hand as hard as he could. His glass flew as well, and a new stream of champagne landed on the rug. Janet again covered her face, scared by the sudden outburst of fury.
"I don't ever want to hear you say anything like that again, do you understand?" he shouted. "I work damned hard to keep you living a very nice life, and the least that you can do is show a little appreciation when I come home after a hard day at work." His face was beet red. She had never seen him this angry. His food had been scattered all over the place, and he'd hurt his hand in banging it against the hard china. He rubbed it slowly, gradually getting himself under control. He walked out of the room, past Janet, she was now reduced to tears. "Take off that idiotic outfit," he called back in. "You look ridiculous."
She sat back down on her chair, and wept openly. It had failed. It had done worse than fail, it had antagonized him, and driven him into a rage for which he would blame her. This would alienate him from her even more, and cause her even more problems. She couldn't believe the situation. What was she doing wrong? How could she get him interested in her? Was there any way to get him interested in her? Or was this the end of the road?
She left the mess on the floor, and wept to herself, crying big salty tears for the better part of two hours. She could hear Phil moving about upstairs. He was watching the TV in the bedroom, apparently not willing to come downstairs for the rest of the night. Janet felt horrible, felt that she was all alone and that there wasn't anything she could do to alleviate the situation. There was just no chance that Phil was going to respond to her at all unless she apologized now.
She began to slip into the sadness that followed fights such as the one that had just occurred. She began to soften her position. She began to see her husband's side of the conflict, and to sympathize with it. He does work hard, she told herself. He does get tired and run down at the office, he does provide for me, and in most instances, he's very sweet, thoughtful, and generous. He must be afraid of sex, she thought. That's the only topic that makes him this angry. Maybe if I just approach him more gently, she thought to herself, he'll come around and start to make love to me. If he's afraid of it, I'll just have to learn to be gentle, and approach him in a nice manner.
She slowly stripped the plastic off her slim and attractive frame. She was so young, and saddled with so heavy a problem. This was something she had figured on encountering when she was in her forties and fifties. Here she was, twenty-six, and saddled with an impotent husband. No, she thought to herself, musn't call him that, that's too threatening a word. He had seemed to get angry when she had used it before. What can I call it? Fear, perhaps. Better yet, she would refer to it as unwillingness, trying to make him see his responsibility, but not hitting in any way at his possible soft spot concerning sexual inadequacy.
She took one good look at the mess in the dining room. This wasn't at all what I wanted, she thought. Not at all. She finished off the bottle of champagne, wanting to be as drunk as possible when she clambered into bed with her pride swallowed. She just couldn't figure out what on earth upset him so, but it was obviously upsetting him, and the sooner they got to the core of the problem, the better off the two of them would be.
Phil was dressed in his underwear, lying back on the bed, watching the television. Janet walked over to the bed and stood at the edge of the mattress. She looked at the husband, but he did not return the glance, just stared silently ahead at the TV screen without even acknowledging that she was there. She crawled into bed with him, pulling the covers over herself, and searching out his arm. She hooked hers in his, and nuzzled up to him as close as she could.
"Darling," she said to him. "Please forgive me. I was kind of mean to you there before, and I didn't mean it. I was just angry. I had thought you would like the surprise that I had prepared for you, and I was disappointed that you didn't. I don't want to hurt you, or make you feel bad. I just wanna make sure that we understand each other, and that we know what the other wants, and that we each do our best to give it to the other. That's all that I want."
Janet liked the sounds of the words that came out of her mouth, but they seemed to have absolutely no effect on Phil. He stared ahead, oblivious to everything that she had told him. Janet had never known him to be this upset that he wouldn't even accept her apology, so she began again and this time she began in all earnest.
"Darling, my dearest, dearest Philip, you're more important to me than anything in the world. I love you darling, I love you madly. There's nothing I'd not do for you, dearest, I love you that much. I want to feel that you love me too. I miss our love making. I want to be made love to very much, I need to feel you inside me, I want you to come into me and make it possible for us to have children. I want to be heavy with your children. Please don't deny me your essence, please don't deny me the thing that every woman wants from her husband. It hurts me that you don't want to make love to me."
Suddenly, a change seemed to come over Phil. He was caught up in thinking about something, and he grinned, looking her straight in the face. "A minute ago," he said, "I without question heard you say that you would do anything in the world for me, is that right?" She stared at him blankly.
"Yes, I remember saying that."
"Well," he added, "you are being given the opportunity to prove that to me, my darling wife," he said, a cutting tone discernible in his voice. "You, my dear, are going to shut your mouth, turn off the television, and clean up that filthy mess in the dining room that you provoked me into making. You'll go do all of that now, and be very quiet about it, because I'm going to go to sleep, right now!" And with that, he yanked the blanket off his nude wife, pulled it over himself, and turned his back on her.
Janet stormed out of the room in a huff. She stood in the middle of the kitchen, wondering whether she should scream her agony to all the world, or smash some dishes against the wall. Eventually, she did neither. She stood there, let the passion flow out of her body, and then walked up to bed, muttering to herself, "Provoked him into it! The stupid prick can clean it up himself if it bothers him that much. I don't give a damn!" She got another blanket, got into bed, and pulled it over herself, shutting her eyes and drifting off to sleep.
CHAPTER TWO
The next morning had seen a terrible fight between the both of them. Phil was angry enough that she hadn't turned off the television, but when he saw that the mess he had made remained where it had been, he flew into a tirade, calling her a filthy slut, accusing her of wanting to drive him into an early grave, and warned her that if she didn't have the mess cleaned up by the time he got home that evening, she would regret it. He stormed out of the house, announcing that he would shower and shave at the club, and that he needed to work out a bit just to calm down. He slammed the door behind him as he left, and could be heard throughout the neighborhood as he slammed the foot down on the gas pedal as hard as he could.
Janet survived this onslaught without being reduced to tears. She simply plugged up her ears as best as she could. She was still too enraged to be scared. She wasn't afraid of him. Maybe, she thought, he's getting it on the side with some girl his parents would disapprove of, and just used me for cover. His folks liked me, which is strange, because he said they never liked anyone he brought home very much. Perhaps this was the problem.
That seemed ridiculous, though. He never stayed out late. Hell, the only time they ever went out at all was on weekends. During the week he simply stayed home and watched the television. He must have had to devote most of his time during the day to work, for she was constantly reading about his cases in the local papers. He was the busiest real estate lawyer in the city. And he was such a clumsy lover that she couldn't believe that he was the type who got much practice. No, face facts, she told herself. The guy is impotent. Totally impotent. Why in God's name did he say he'd marry me? If I'm lucky, he'll screw me once every two months, in the off chance that I might get pregnant. That will be the extent of our physical relationship.
Janet lounged around the house all day, clad only in her panties. For some reason, she didn't want to be totally nude, but this was the way she was going to remain all day. She didn't care if anyone came to the door. She would answer it just the way she was, with no attempt at covering her nakedness. If possible, she would bring whoever it was into the house, and seduce him. She needed some kind of sexual gratification, and while she wasn't going to go out of her way to find it, she wasn't going to run away and hide if opportunity came knocking either.
She was going to divorce him. That was certain. If he didn't fuck her that very night, if he didn't take her as soon as he got home, she was going to inform him that their relationship was at an end, and that she would go elsewhere. She was a woman with her entire life in front of her, and she had no intention of spending it with a old fart who had no interest in her as a woman. She would not be unfair to him, but she was going to demand some kind of financial settlement that would keep her comfortable. She had been promised a normal, healthy life, and she had been cheated. She didn't want to hurt him, but that was the way it was, and she didn't want to feel as though she had been taken advantage of.
She sat about all through the day, and now was on her fifth drink. She was giggling to herself now, wondering what the confrontation would be like, getting very impatient to see the look on her husband's face when he walked through the front door and saw that the mess he had left was still there. She was really going to let him have it this time. The hell with trying to spare his feelings. She had been doing enough of that lately, and precious little good it had done her. It had only opened her up to more abuse. She would let everything that was festering inside her, screaming to get out, explode, and see how well he could handle it. It was about time that somebody let him know the truth about himself, that he was less than a man, and that no woman would have anything to do with him if they knew the truth. She wanted to see his face when heard that!
She began mashing the stuffing into the carpet, ripping up little bits of the meat, and scattering the mess very generously about room. She was going to make this place a filthy mess. She took some newspapers and scattered them around, even hurled the liquor in her glass at the wall, watching it splash against the creamy white paint. She would definitely get the house as part of the settlement, and she would sell it immediately. It was a gift, and would get a very nice price. She would then head to Europe, and give herself to the first outstandingly attractive man that she could find. Oh, hell, she thought, to the first man she could find who wasn't a physically gross pig! She had had enough of celibacy to last her a lifetime. She would spend the next few months getting as much dick as she could. She'd take anything, as long as it was human and had the proper tool.
She fell back on the sofa, spilling a little of the sixth drink that she had poured to replace the booze she'd hurled at the wall. She dropped her panties just enough to expose her bush, and slipped her fingers down to her eager womanhood. She ran her fingers through her blonde bush, then touched her quivering clitoris, rubbing the creamy pussy juice all around her vagina. She slipped her fingers into herself, and tried to imagine that it was a cock. She got her whole hand in, amazing herself at how effortlessly she was able to penetrate herself. She ran her fingers inside herself harder now, and she quickly chugged the rest of the drink, then brought the other hand down so that she could concentrate on her clit at the same time.
She quickly reached her peak, and felt the waves of pleasure pulse through her pussy, shooting up throughout her flesh. She squirmed with the pleasure of the orgasm and as the wave subsided to one of gentle ecstasy she continued to stroke herself, in hopes of once again feeling the thrill of her release.
She pretended that a man was fucking her. She pretended that he was about thirty, with dark hair, and a bushy, swarthy frame with much hair on the chest and stomach. She tried hard to see a face. It became more and more visible as she continued, but she still couldn't really make him out. She got to her climax, and suddenly saw his face, screaming it out as her insides exploded once more. "Oh, Phil! God, I love you so much, Philip!!!"
She was finished. She drew her hand out of herself. It was no good, she thought. She still saw that bastard's face every single time that she thought of being held by a man. She had to get him out of her system, and it would take a long time. She was deeply, helplessly in love with him, and that was the really great tragedy.
The alcohol had left her with a very full bladder, and she went up to the bathroom to relieve herself. Why did life have to be so cruel, she thought to herself. What the hell have I done to deserve this kind of predicament? She had been a good girl most of her life. Her parents had both died, her father when she was ten, and her mother when she reached the age of seventeen. She had been raised at that point by her grandmother, but since she was mostly grown up by that point, you couldn't say raised, really. They had inhabited the same house. She had been a good granddaughter, taking care of the old lady when she had to, and laboring after school at a restaurant, adding a bit to the household income. Her granny had died when she was twenty-one, and she immediately went to work, earning her keep for herself.
She had not had much time for a social life while in school, so most of her dates had come after graduation. She lost her virginity when she was nineteen. She had found it mildly painful, but nice enough so that the tender man who she was seeing steadily then was able to do it many more times. It got better each time, and soon she discovered that sex was a delightful practice, well worth basing an entire relationship on, should that be your sole common interest. She went on from there to have other lovers, going so far as to proposition men for the purpose of having a one-night stand. She didn't do this often, just when she was feeling very horny. She had even had men who she knew intimately enough from their past so that she could merely call them up when she felt the urge, and get together for a short and sweet quickie.
She was, in other words, a woman who acknowledged her sexuality, was not anything like ashamed of it, and saw nothing wrong with seeking to satisfy it. She had been with men who felt the same way about themselves for so long now that she couldn't imagine that anyone felt at all differently about the subject.
How ironic then, that she had ended up married to the only person she had ever met who did.
She heard the garage door open. She had long since finished peeing, but she didn't feel like moving. She sat on the toilet, panties around her ankles, and listened to Phil come in the door. His agonized scream coincided with the slamming of the door, and he yelled out to his wife in a very agitated tone of voice. "Janet!" he yelled, "Janet, where the hell are you?!"
"I'm in the bathroom upstairs, darling," she replied in her sweetest tones. She was beginning to enjoy herself. He never expressed his anger like this, and it was nice that the shoe was on the other foot for a change.
She heard him mounting the stairs, and he stood in the doorway of the bathroom, glaring at her. She smiled sweetly at him. She wanted to see what he was going to do without her having to say or do anything first. He glared at her, getting angrier by the minute, and finally spoke, using very carefully measured tones.
"I should think that there was an explanation coming. I left this morning having given you very explicit instructions on what you were to do today. I come home to find that not only have you disobeyed me, and not cleaned up the mess as I instructed you to, but that you have actually gone out of your way to defy me, and have made the mess much worse than it is." He finished talking. The whole time, the only part of his body that had moved was his mouth. Janet wiped herself and flushed the toilet, stepping over to the sink. She lathered up her hands, and then replied, speaking very reasonably, as though relating what a nice day she had had.
"Why Philip," she began, "I'm so terribly sorry that I didn't clean the mess that you made when you got so upset last night, but I just didn't have any time at all to see to the task. I beg your apologies, my darling, but what can I do? I had simply millions of other things to do that occupied my time, and to tell you the truth, I forgot all about it until just a couple of minutes ago."
"Don't you dare address me in that tone of voice! I pay the bills around here, I provide the food. I'm the man around here, and I think that you ought to consider yourself pretty damn lucky that I'm as patient as I am. Now either you get down there and do as I tell you to do, or you'll regret it."
She finished washing and drying her hands in total silence. She had him where she wanted now. There was no way that anything he said was going to disturb her into making the mistake of shouting back at him. She walked passed him, out into the hall, and walked downstairs.
She sat in the kitchen, eating the food that she herself hadn't had the stomach to finish the night before it was very good, especially the stuffing. She could hear her husband upstairs, pacing around. She knew that he must know she was not attending to her assigned tasks. She finished up what remained of the delicacy, and placed the used dishes in the sink. She turned around to leave the kitchen, when Phil popped up in front of her, advancing enough that she backed up from him. There was a glare in his eyes that Janet had never seen before, and she found that it rather frightened her, an emotion Phil did not usually inspire.
"You're still disobeying me, you damned bitch. I can't believe this. Who the fuck do you think you are that you can get away with this shit?"
Janet was most taken aback by this. Phil never used foul language, at least not around her of any other woman that she knew of. Even when he got angry it was a big thing for him to say something like "damn," or "hell." She just stared at him wondering what the next stage of his anger would bring.
"Listen, you bitch, I want to hear some answers, do you understand that? I don't just want to see those big, brown eyes, I want to hear some fucking answers? Are you going to clean up that shit, or aren't you?" Janet put her hands on her hips, and spoke to him calmly, but nonetheless letting her anger show.
"You listen to me, goddammit. I'm not going to pick up that shit. You put it there. I worked like a fool all day cooking that, and doing something that I thought would give you pleasure. All you did was shit all over me when you got home, and called me a pervert for trying to seduce you. I'm sick of being treated that way, and I won't stand for it any longer."
With that, she moved around him to leave the kitchen, but suddenly, he grabbed her arm, whipped her around, and smacked her across the face with the back of his hand, screaming, "You fucking bitch!" He caught her right on the cheekbone, and the pain was sharp and plentiful.
"You bastard," she went on to say. "You filthy bastard!" She wheeled around and went to leave again, but arm was grabbed again, and this time Phil swatted at her head, giving her quick, choppy swats that tended to sting more than hurt. He dragged her out into the living room, and threw her in so violently that she fell on the floor.
"Clean that shit up!" he shouted at her, standing above her. "I want all of that garbage off the floor, right now!"
"That's it, do you understand, you filthy pig! I'm going to divorce you, I'm going to take you for all the shit you're worth now! I can't stand to be in the same room with you anymore, do you understand that? You're just a filthy coward who can't get it up, so you humiliate me when I try to seduce you, and then try to work me into a state where you can have an excuse to hit me!"
Phil walked over to her slowly, standing so that his face was not more than three inches from hers. "Listen," he said, "I won't stand for your insubordination any longer. You are my wife. We have a legal contract between us. You have been reneging on your part of the contract. I provide for your food, clothing, and shelter, and in return for that, you take care of the home. That being the understanding between us, you start cleaning this room pronto, or you'll learn a lesson you won't be forgetting anytime soon, you got that?"
Janet listened to him, was totally fearless, probably from all the liquor she had consumed before. "Listen, you filthy scum," she started. "As far as I'm concerned, you have violated that precious contract that you talk about. There's a little line there about love, honor, and obeying. Well, you sure haven't been keeping up with the loving part, and there isn't a judge around who wouldn't give me what I want on the grounds of alienation of affection. So don't come on with any high and mighty shit about what I'm supposed to be doing for you, because I won't buy it. You're just an impotent jerk who can't get his cock up to screw his wife."
Phil was boiling now. "You apologize for that," he said.
"Impotent," she went on, "totally without power."
"Stop it," he shouted.
"Fucking little wimp, pansy, goddam impotent bastard."
"Shut up I tell you!"
"What'd you gonna do, beat me up," she taunted. "Go ahead if it makes you feel like more of a man-"
She was cut off by the hardest smack she had ever felt in her life. It met her cheek full on, and sent her sprawling to the floor. She had finally cracked through his shell, and he stood before her, pacing back and forth across the room frantically, fire almost shooting out of his nostrils. "You're going to take that back," he said to her, "you're going to take that back or I'll ... "
"Do what?" she asked through tears as he fell at a temporary loss for words. "Do anything you want you bastard, it'll only hurt you in court, and you aren't even a man anyway, so what do you care-"
She was stopped short immediately as he kicked her in the rump, giving her several really good shots. She felt like her ass had been hit by lightning, and she crawled around on all fours, finally collapsing as he put his foot on her butt, and pushed her down on the floor.
"So," he said, smiling now, though still very angry, pinning her to the floor with his foot. "So, you think I'm not much of a man, huh? You think I'm a wimp? And you won't do as you're told? Well, somebody didn't raise you very well, I see, didn't teach you any manners, didn't show you that whatever functions you perform in married life are supposed to be for the purpose of satisfying your husband?"
"What the hell are you talking about?" He immediately pressed his foot down harder, and she let out a brief shout.
"Silence when I talk to you, do you understand that? I was willing to let you off with just cleaning up this mess, but that won't be good enough for now, do you understand that, cunt? You're going to pay for what you did to me, and you're going to pay very dearly. By the time the night is finished, you'll know what is expected of you from now on, and you had damn well better see that I am pleased with you, because if I'm not, there's going to be a lot more lessons like this one taught, and they won't get any easier."
With that he took his foot away, and yanked her to her feet. He pulled her over to the sofa. She was very angry now, but at the same time deathly afraid. She'd go through this with an unbreakable mask, she decided to herself, and I'll make sure not to give him the satisfaction of crying. It will all be over soon, and then I'll just call the police.
He sat down on the sofa, and put her over his lap, took down her panties, hands gentle over them so as to get the buttocks to relax. Janet resisted this ploy, keeping the muscles very firmly clenched. "So," he said, "I see we're going to play a little game are we?" He suddenly pulled his hand off, and jammed his finger between the cheeks, sticking it into her asshole, and driving it as far up as he could. Janet started, held in the howl of pain that this produced, but finally had to yell it out as he grinned at her discomfort, pushed the finger as far in and as hard as he could.
"There," he said. "We can't really control our feelings that much, now can we? You might as well forget about feeling no pain, my darling, because if you wanted to avoid that, you overstepped whatever line there was."
"Don't you dare call me darling, you miserable bas-" she was cut off again, this time by five very hard smacks against her bare rear which Philip delivered without warning. She had shouted her pain, and writhed on his lap after he had finished and paused for a moment."
"That's not a very nice thing to say to your husband, cunt." He sneered this at her in a fashion that was totally unknown to her. "You're going to pay for that and for every indignity that you've had the nerve to heap on me tonight. I just hope that you take the lesson to heart."
He wound up, and laid another five hard ones on her defenseless ass, and didn't let up until she'd been tattooed by twenty-five hits in all. She was crying now, the tears streaming down her cheeks, crimson spots all over her ass from where he had beaten her. He stood her up, and walked her over to the middle of the room.
"Alright, now you're going to stand there with your legs spread, you got that? You're going to spread your legs nice and wide, so keep those fucking panties off. That's good," he said as she obeyed. "Now you're going to bend over and grab your ankles, cunt." She did so again. She could see him very vaguely, the tears were running back into her eyes making vision difficult, but she saw him remove his belt.
"No, please Phil. I'll be hurt!"
"Oh, I'm not worried about that, my little princess, rest assured, you'll be. That goes without saying. But it's unfortunately too late for a simple cleaning to get you back into my good graces. A little too much, a little too stridently put, has been said for me to think about letting you escape this punishment." He quickly wound the belt up, and delivered a crashing blow that exploded against her buttocks with incredible force. It was followed by another, then another, then finally falling into, a steady rhythm that showed no signs of easing, ho signs of respite, no mercy, no letting up for the longest time.
Janet was totally helpless, and totally humiliated. Each smack brought a fresh cry from her lips. She wanted desperately to be able to remain silent through the beating, but it simply hurt too much. She had never considered Phil capable of doing this, and the tears in her eyes were as much for her demented husband as they were for her.
Phil began letting up a little on the ass, now, taking meticulous aim, and bringing the full force of the blows either on some tender, highly red part of the buttocks, or else against the backs of the legs. He ran the belt up and down her legs, and up into her crotch, letting it stroke across her pussy. It was at about this time that Janet began noticing something strange. She had first felt it in the aftermath of the over the knee spanking, and had ignored it, but it now seemed quite obvious to her, and she found it truly remarkable.
Her pussy had gotten wet.
There was no mistaking it now. The belt picked up some of the moisture, and she could feel it as Phil ran it up and down her legs. He now reached up into her snatch, letting his cuff rub against the marked flesh of the rounded bottom of her flanks. The shirt cuffs did scratch a little bit, but to be honest, she found this not all that unpleasant, especially combined with the fingers rummaging through her bush, which they presently were doing. She felt him stick one, then, after wiggling it around to widen the pussy, she felt the second, then the third, and before long he had his entire hand squeezed into her vagina, and he pushed it in all the way up to the wrist. He moved it in and out very rapidly, and suddenly, she felt the renewed sting of the belt against the reddened flesh of her bottom.
She rocked with something not unlike pleasure now, feeling the fingers penetrate her to the full depth of her cunt, occasionally spreading out against the side walls when Phil thought her in need of a little extra. He brought the belt down harder still, and her grunts and groans now more nearly resembled the sounds of sexual gratification.
He jerked his hand out of her now, and stood back to survey his handiwork. He laughed out loud, a wicked, full throated laugh, the kind that she had never heard from him before. He circled her, and put his foot up to her face. He touched the tip of his shoe to her cheek, gently bringing it up so that her lips were touching it. "Kiss it," he said. She could see the teardrops on the surface of the shoe. She brought her lips to it, leaving a small patch of moisture on it. He now manipulated his foot around so that the bottom of the shoe, the filthy sole, was against her smooth cheek. He smiled wickedly.
"Kiss the bottom of the shoe." She obeyed, not wanting to displease him. "Now stick out your tongue," he told her, "stick out your tongue, and give the shoe a good licking, from top to bottom." She hesitated, a delay that cost her as the belt was raised and brought down on her ass. She jumped from the blow, and quickly stuck as much of her tongue as she could against the bottom of the shoe, and licked in a long wide strip that extended from the tip, all the way down to the heel.
"That's a good little cuntie," he told her, watching the words burning her ears. "That's a good little cunt, just the kind that I want. You've been a very naughty girl, haven't you?"
She immediately took the cue. "Yes master, yes, I'm very, very bad."
"A bad little cunt has to be spanked, now doesn't she?"
"Yes master." He demanded that she repeat the whole sentence. "A bad little cunt has to be spanked, and I am a bad little cunt." He seemed very pleased by this last little addition. Very pleased indeed.
"That's very good," he told her. "It's very nice to know that you want to obey and please me, that shows admirable initiative. But it won't soften the punishment that I'm giving you. You wouldn't be able to learn the lesson properly it I did, would you?"
"No, master, I want my punishment, I want all of it now."
Phil suddenly stepped behind her, and stuck his face between her ass cheeks. He put his tongue out, and very gently ran it across Janet's dripping pussy. She had found the shoe kissing arousing in spite of herself. She had felt disgust at the taste of the bottom of the shoe, but had nonetheless felt a tingling inside of her that could not be mistaken. It was the tickle of sexual arousal, and she now realized that her pussy was extremely moist, and she was in an advanced state of arousal.
She jumped as the tongue suddenly found the clitoris. Phil just touched it once, took his tongue from it, and then came back, shooting it quickly back and forth over the tender button, sending shivers of erotic happiness up Janet's frame. She caught her breath as he slipped the tongue inside her cunt, let out a long moan of contentment, and then jumped again, as he quickly returned to the clitoris, moving his moist tongue over her as rapidly as he could. She was getting very excited, when suddenly he stopped, then slipping his hand down to the sensitive slit once again.
He rubbed his other hand against the battered cheeks, slipping his finger in and out of her cunt as he did so. "Oh Phil," she wiggled, moaning and cooing. "Phil," she said over and over. "Phil, that feels so good, don't stop, please." He suddenly pulled his hand away, slapped her on the rear, and yanked her to a full standing position.
"Feels good, huh?" he said to her. "Well, we don't want to do too much of that. Might forget the purpose of this little lesson, now mightn't we? I haven't even gotten to the main event, but since you seem to be responding well to the treatment, let's get on to that segment of the festivities right away." With that he left the room, telling her to stay where she was. He returned a few moments later with a piece of rope. He pulled her hands behind her back, and tied the wrists together. He moved her over to the coffee table, and forced her to spread herself out over it, so that her legs rested on the floor. He raised the belt once again, bringing it down with as hard a crack as she had felt all night. He did this a bit longer, then walked into the kitchen, telling her to remain there.
Her breasts underneath her, she could feel the cool wood of the table against her gradually turning wet with her perspiration. She was very turned on. She couldn't understand it. The last cracks hadn't hurt, but she had rather found pleasure in the sharp burns placed on her by the leather belt. Phil now came out and showed her what he had gotten. It was a wooden mixing spoon, a little over a foot long. She recalled that her mother had occasionally spanked her with one like it when she was a naughty girl, and she wondered what Phil was going to do with it now. He told her to suck on it. She obeyed, taking the rough wooden stem into her mouth. Phil moved it in and out comfortably, obviously not wanting to leave any splinters in her mouth. He got it good and wet, and then withdrew it.
Janet had been disappointed with this turn of events, because she had been enjoying the hard shaft in her mouth. She had little reason for disappointment, however, for just then, she felt the thin rod pushing its way up her cunt. She breathed a sigh of relief, glad to have her honey hole filled once more, in any fashion.
Phil now moved behind her, and wound up again. He stood so that one hand struck her with the belt, and used the other to manipulate the stick. He didn't shove it in and out, but rather moved it up and down, much like a jack handle doing this for several minutes, until he pulled it out, and put the spoon end of it into her. This pushed her cunt tunnel much more, and she let her passion out, sighing and shaking uncontrollably as the thick shaft of the spoon pushed into her tender cavern of desire.
Phil began spanking her again, this time letting the blows fall at long intervals. She was conscious now of almost nothing but the movement inside her cunt, pushing at the limits of her insides, driving her further and further into a state of excitement such as she hadn't felt in the longest time. He let her ass have one more hard smack, and then threw the belt down, yanked the spoon out, and pulled her to her feet.
"Alright," he said, "I want you to jump in place. Just kick your heels up as though you were trying to touch them to your ass." She was gasping with the throes of an imminent orgasm, but she now managed to get up the energy to do as he commanded. Each time she landed, he hit her on the bottom with the wooden spoon. This tended to affect a smaller area than did the belt, and the hurt was different. It smacked against her, leaving a sharp sensation that left immediately rather than the lingering burn that the belt left. Phil was shouting at her, "jump, jump, jump higher! I want to see those tits bouncing in the air."
Every landing brought a new shot to the ass, and the constant jumping was leaving her very short of breath. She suddenly realized that this was not merely exhaustion. She was getting sexually excited, and was nearing her orgasm. Her husband beat her faster and faster, and her excitement increased accordingly. She was out of her head with the various stimulations, and gasped and gasped as her breath got harder and harder. She could feel the sweat rolling off her, the cunt juices starting to drip out of her pussy, and as her nipples became erect, she felt the goose flesh stand out over her entire body, the chills running through every part of her.
She hit her climax, and fell on the floor. Phil stood over her, madly beating her crimson rear with the spoon, driving her into a frenzy of sensual delight. She shuddered with the force of her orgasm, shivering, trembling, and Phil continued beating her, every blow just adding to the intensity of her sexual bliss.
He finally finished, and she collapsed on the floor, spreading herself out full length, belly down, tits against the carpet. They squished out to the side, the nipples visible at the edge. Phil stood before her, drinking a glass of water. She stretched herself out, putting her lips to his shoe, and planted kisses all over the shoe top, working her way up to the laces, then the ankles.
Phil watched this for a few minutes, then stood her up, marching her to the bedroom. He went into the bathroom, and began to run the shower. He came out to her. "I'm going to get myself clean, and I want you to remain here very still. You aren't to make a noise, and you aren't to stir, not even a little bit. I will be back shortly, and then you'll get the last stage of your lesson. I think that you'll find it more enjoyable than the last, but then who knows? Maybe you've discovered something about yourself."
His shower gave her plenty of time to mull over that thought. She stood there, not moving a muscle. Her hands were still bound behind her back, and she felt the flames of the fire he had lit on her ass. It tingled and burned throughout her buttocks moving about as the sensitized nerve endings jangled about. It must be very red, she thought to herself, it must be quite a sight to look at. I wish I could see it in the mirror, she thought. What a kinky turn on that would be.
She was completely shocked. Phil was totally different. This was not the man she had married, nor the man that she had lived with these past ten months. The change was remarkable. And the more she thought about it, the more she realized that it was a change for the better. He was a man of some kind of passion now. The fact that he had struck her hardly seemed to matter. He had brought her to an orgasm, the first that she had ever known. She had wanted desperately to hold him, but the forced binding of her hands prevented that, increasing the desire, and thereby turning her on even more. She had never felt so open and relaxed with him, as in the forced submission that made those feelings which he normally couldn't arouse to come bursting forth in the most pronounced way imaginable.
Her head was a sea of thoughts and contradictory feelings. She had wanted to leave him, but now felt more drawn to him by the force of her explosion. She had screamed for a divorce, but now felt as though she belonged more completely than ever. She couldn't forget that moment when she suddenly realized that she had moistened at the excitement of being spanked. She remembered it now, and she felt the same thrill well up inside her as she thought of herself helplessly extended over his lap, the force of his hand penetrating through the many layers of flesh, finally shaking her sex organs enough to set her up for the thrill of her coming.
He finally emerged from the shower. His cock was half erect as he walked out, rubbing the towel through his hair. He began to whistle, and as he finished, he flung the towel so that it landed on her head, blocking her vision effectively. He moved about, and stated up the hair dryer. He worked at that for five minutes, then disappeared again. And she wondered what fate awaited her now. He had spoken of this being the more enjoyable part, so she couldn't imagine what would happen. She quivered thinking about it, the chills running up and down her body as she relived the spankings, the demeaning positions over and over.
He grabbed her again, and marched her wordlessly over to the bed. He forced her down, leaving the towel over her head. She was on her knees, her trembling pussy open to him. He was behind her. She could only sense his presence. He ran his hand up her thigh and she jumped, unhinged by the mere touch of his hand. She felt indescribable excitement in the way he simply moved his hand up and down the insides of her legs. He would come up by the cunt and just circle it, allowing his finger to get tangled up in her bush, but taking care to avoid the pussy. He then ran his hand up to the asshole, and slipped in a finger very gently.
Janet felt the rectal muscles resist, but instead of forcing his way in this time, he pulled out the tiniest bit, the pushed a little harder, pulling back again, pushing, until the small movements gradually relaxed the sphincter sufficiently to allow his finger all the entry it desired. She felt her entire body let go. Waves of pleasure began surging up from the asshole, hitting every muscle fiber in her body, and working the same kind of magic on her. Her legs were the first to feel it, then her belly, her breasts, her arms and shoulders. The muscles seemed to begin to fall away from the skeletal frame, and she began to feel as though her flesh was turning to liquid bit by bit and dripping on the bed.
He worked her asshole slowly, not wanting to hurt now, getting her into a steady rhythm where her breath helped carry her along. She could hear herself begin to moan. She began to concentrate on the rate at which her lungs expanded and contracted, and soon found herself worked in an unmistakable pattern. This began to work on her by itself making her even more excited, and just when she was sure she would lose all control of herself, he pulled the finger out.
He ran it up the spine. "You liked that, now, didn't you?" She told him yes. "Well, it looks as though you've learned your lesson, and are behaving like a good little cunt after all. That deserves a reward. I am going to give to you the greatest present that a master can bestow on his cunt." With that, he stopped running his hand up her spine. She felt something against the wet lips of her pussy, and suddenly felt herself thrust open and burst apart by his hot, flaming rod of passion.
She let out a tremendous burst of joy. He was inside her, she thought, he was fucking, and unless he had something very cruel planned at this point, he would continue to fuck her. This was more than she had dreamed possible. She felt him thrust the full length of her cunt, and she moaned and rocked with the ecstatic pleasure she had too long been without.
She could feel the fingers of his hands reaching around to grab and squeeze her tits. His thighs battered her tender behind, and she felt his balls slapping up against her as he violently plunged desperately into her burning insides. The tender flesh of her ass transmitted so many more pleasant sensations through her. She felt the tingling flames move up from the buttocks as he bumped against her, and she felt the electric surges begin to emanate.
She felt his cock stiffen, and she readied herself for his explosion. Suddenly, he stopped thrusting; but left his prick shoved as far into her as possible, and pinched and pulled at her nipples. This drove her crazy, teasing her intolerably as she was on the verge of her own orgasm. He kept it up for several minutes, and prickles of delight shot through her tits.
He now began thrusting again, and she came, panting beneath him as he covered her entire body with his. He shot his wad into her, driving it in as far as he could. Her cunt blew up with the force of his ejaculating, pulsing prick, and by the time he had finished, she was a sobbing, trembling wreck, moaning uncontrollably. He remained on top of her, the two of them gradually breathing in unison.
He withdrew from her slowly. He removed the towel, and rubbed her hair tenderly. He now untied her hands, and took her in his arms, gently kissing her face. "I love you very much," he stated. "I'm terribly sorry. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me."
She couldn't believe her ears. Forgive you! My God, she thought, you've just given me everything that I wanted. She threw her arms round his neck, and kissed him, slipping her tongue into his mouth, and circling it around his. When she broke off the kiss, she moved over to his ear. "I love you too," she said, "and I just want to let you know what that meant to me."
They hugged each other very tight, and fell asleep in erotic entanglement.
CHAPTER THREE
Janet awoke the next morning to find herself alone in bed. She looked at the alarm clock, and saw that it was ten-thirty. Phil had already left for work. There was a note on the pillow next to her. Janet picked it up and read it. "Darling," it began. "I have had to leave you alone as I do not want to be late for work. There is an important case coming up today, and I want to make sure that I get to the office in time to assemble all of the material that I need. I made myself breakfast, and did kiss you goodbye, although you were fast asleep at the time, and probably did not notice. I figured that you could use the rest if you had slept through the alarm, and I didn't want to go and disturb you unnecessarily.
"I hope that the events that occurred last night didn't cause you to leave me or in any way come to hate me. I could not explain exactly what happened at the time, and cannot hope to do so in a letter. I feel terribly ashamed of myself, and hope that there is some way that I can make this up to you. I love you very much, and wish that I could do something to wipe this incident out of our life together. I can very well understand that you may be furious with me, and you have every right to be, but even if this is the case, please hear me out. I ask you only to remain at home until I have a chance to talk to you. If nothing else, I can explain all of this to you, and we will hopefully be able to reach some satisfactory middle-ground that we can inhabit without damaging ourselves. Remember that I love you. Please give a very disturbed man a chance to explain things to you before you cut him. The note had been written in a very shaky hand, and there were several splotches where a tear had obviously smeared the ink about. Janet was very surprised by the tone and by the content. Phil was obviously ashamed of his conduct, and wanted, he said, a chance to explain himself before she left him forever. His certainty that she was about to do this was what puzzled her the most.
Janet, at this point, had no intention of leaving her husband. Far from it. She had every hope and expectation that their love was about to grow and expand into areas it had not yet been able to reach. She was still possessed by it all, loved it, wanted more. She rushed to the bathroom, the first thing, and grabbed up her hand mirror. She then stood with her back to the full length mirror, and held the smaller glass up so that she could see the marks of her spanking in all their glory. Shivers of delight coursed through her as she spotted the red welts and splotches that appeared intermittently on the surface of her ass. She ran a hand to them, and rubbed the sensitive, sore areas. They hurt to touch, but what a marvelous hurt it was, sending more sensations through her. She touched her wounds, and remembered the excitement of her helplessness, of the way the belt had landed on her, and of the way that Phil had taken her and broken her, making her submit totally to his desires. She closed her eyes and it all came back to her.
She remembered her helpless screams finally being drawn out of her as he rammed his finger into her asshole. She remembered going over his knee, her utter disbelief that he was going to do this to her in the first place. The furious beating with the whip was the most vivid of the punishments. She could feel once more the pounding her tail received, and the way she had gradually come to love each blow from the leather belt, and she recalled how she had begun to move her buttocks up to meet each swing of the arm so that every stroke would register its full possible impact.
She went into the bathroom, and cleaned out the tub so that she could take herself a bath. The hot water would probably sting, she thought. She could imagine how she would feel, and thought of how sitting down would become something of a chore. She relished the thought that she would be reminded of her beating every time she went into a restaurant, or sat on a bus or train. The flashbacks to her humiliation would take her to it countless times a day, and she would finally remember the way that he had parted the lips of her snatch, and driven into her with passionate fury, turning her on as she had never been turned on before.
The skin of her battered behind did indeed hurt just a bit, but she got herself into a reasonably comfortable position. The bottom of the tub still irritated her just slightly, but she concentrated on the pleasant memories that this stirred, and lay back, and began to finger her pussy as she felt what little tension there was in her body leave with the gentle caresses of the warm water.
So, she thought to herself, Phil was ashamed of his actions. That was puzzling. He had suddenly come out of his shell, breaking down whatever it was that had kept him from wanting to fuck his wife. He had been so secretive about his past that she realized that it must be something that was back in the past that he didn't want to get in touch with. She had inadvertently hit it on a number of occasions, she realized now. Every time that he had gone into that nasty shell, where he would stare until he had come up with some stupid quip, she had caused him to act that way by somehow hitting him in very tender psychological areas. Last night had been the worst, because she had driven him totally out of control. What had she said to him? The answer came after several minutes of hard thought. She had told him that he was impotent, and had made several remarks to the effect that he was less of a man than the norm for the average American male. She had concentrated very hard on his apparent inability to have intercourse with her, and this had set off a totally unexpected and violent reaction that led to his giving her exactly what she had wanted all along. What did this indicate?
Well, it indicated that by giving vent to his hostility, he had been able to break down his resistance to having more conventional kinds of sex. Therefore, something about masochism has a connection in his mind with sexual relations between husband and wife. This was most likely a matter of how he was raised, and how his parents behaved towards one another. This was among the things that she was going to have to find out.
She thought of all this as she lay back in the tub and drove her fingers against her moist mound of pleasure. She rubbed the out sides of her pussy, and then parted the folds of skin, running her fingers inside, flicking them against her clitoris. She shoved them up her pussy, thrusting the fingers into the vagina, and feeling the walls inside her that had been so nicely scraped the night before. She could feel traces of his jism still inside her, and rubbed the stickiness between her fingers. This turned her on, as the flexing of the digits stimulated the still excited membranes inside her. She began thrusting them in in a regular rhythm, adding fingers as the time went on, parting the walls further and further, trying to reach something like the state of ecstasy she had known the night previous to this, closing her eyes and seeing her husband's form over her.
They were screwing in the missionary position now, and Phil was again the only lover she could conjure up in her mind. There was something different from the way she had seen it the night before. Then, there had been a sense of desperation to her activities. She had tried to imagine a lover, any lover, and she had only been able to see him. She had even been trying not to, but nonetheless he had popped into her head, quiet uninvited, but there nonetheless. She had felt that she had failed herself at that point, because she had been trying to drive him out of her life, and instead she had seen that Phil was the only man that meant anything to her, whose touch she desired, whose prick would fill her up to the required level Now, however, things were quite different. Now it was Phil that she wanted to see. She wanted once more to experience the driving force of his hot shaft penetrating the tender lips of her love tunnel, wanted to experience the hulk of his body, the force with which it plowed against hers, the wonderful feeling that shot through her thighs as she felt him ram against the bruised parts of her anatomy. She wanted to feel this again, and while masturbating was no substitute for the real thing, it managed to approximate enough of the feeling so that she could almost believe it was really happening to her again.
She used one hand on her clit, and thrust the other inside herself as deep as she could manage. She was moving them in and out very rapidly and she called his name over and over, seeing him so distinctly that she began to feel his flesh against hers, began to feel the rate of his breath, began to become aware of a powerful presence that she could not ignore. She came now, and as she did she felt her insides jump as though hit by a jet of hot sperm, and as it reached the end of her pussy wall, she felt it dripping down, cooling off as it slid towards the opening between her thighs.
The sensations of her climax resounded through her body, and she allowed them to slowly seep out, fading into the water and the air that surrounded her nude presence. She felt that she had been somehow transformed, that she was another person and that she had begun a new life. She was, at the very least, at the point of this happening, but first she had to get through to Phil. He was going to be very depressed when he got home, and she would have to see to it that he got himself into a better frame of mind. She would have to get him to talk, and tell her everything about his past, in the hope that his dark secret would be uncovered.
She began to think of her introduction to this sort of practice, and while she still thought to herself that it was rather bizarre, and that it was totally unlike anything she had experienced previously, she was most certainly not shocked, nor was she repulsed by what had happened. She had quite enjoyed it. It was not merely that it had been a prelude to sex. She had come just from the spanking, so obviously there was something in the spanking that appealed to her.
Her own father had never spanked her. That sort of discipline had been left to her mother, and there was not much of it coming from that quarter. She had grown up without having to have been punished much at all, and she had never developed any kinky thrills from her own experience. She did now remember an occurrence, however, that was probably at the root of her taste for what had happened.
When she was eleven, she had been over at a friend's house playing dolls. They had gotten kind of excited, and had removed their clothes to see if they looked like the dolls. Janet and Karen, her friend, were more or less satisfied with their own similarities to the toys, but were puzzled by the fact that the boy doll had no penis. One thing had lead to another, and they had decided they felt cheated. They wanted to see what a boy had looked like without his clothes on. Karen had gotten dressed, and had her brother Michael come into the room where they were playing.
Michael, who was thirteen, was surprised when he saw Janet sitting there naked, but had gotten over his embarrassments as Karen stripped nude again herself. They showed him little undeveloped slits, and had him put his fingers there, discovering that this felt rather nice. Janet then got dressed, and Karen had her brother strip, remaining nude herself, and laughing at Janet's fear that Karen's mommy might come into the room.
Michael had already begun to mature. His voice was changing, and pubic hair surrounded the slowly maturing testicles. Karen reached up and felt the hairs, and as she did so, her brother's cock began to grow and stand straight up. Michael was getting very excited, and his breath rate increased considerably. He gave little starts and jumps every time his sister made a movement with her hands that excited him. He and Karen now sat opposite each other and began to play with each other, giggling and grunting as their still not matured genitals thrilled to the touch of each other's inexperienced hands.
Suddenly, the door swung open, and their mother came in. Mother was, needless to say, very astounded by the sight of her darlings diddling each other, and ordered them to stand there and wait until she returned. Janet had been unable to decide what to do, but she was told to remain by the angry mother, who carried a broken wooden yardstick in her hand. A very cruel looking yardstick!
"I want you two to bend over the bed," she commanded her offspring. "Janet, I want you to stand over there and watch what happens to two naughty children are found doing something that they know they shouldn't do. You two are going to learn a lesson, and you're going to have it taught to you in front of your friend who doesn't go around doing piggy things that she has been told not to do."
"But mommy," Karen cried, "Janet had her clothes off too."
"Be quiet," Mrs. Harris yelled. "That's an easy thing for you to say right now, and even if it is true, I have no right to punish her since I'm not her mommy. But I hope that if she was doing anything, she will tell her mommy, and get whatever punishment that she thinks is right. In the meantime, she'll get an idea of what happens to naughty boys and girls, and maybe this will deter her from anything like this."
Karen looked at Janet as though she was really mad at her for not admitting that she had been naked too, but Janet just stood there. She wanted very much to be able to run out of the room, but was afraid that Mrs. Harris might tell her mommy that she had done something bad, and she wouldn't be able to play with Karen anymore.
Mrs. Harris used the wooden stick on both Karen and Michael, raising it and bringing it down on Karen first. She hit her ten times. Karen let out little yelps of pain, and by the sixth hit, there were tears rolling out of her eyes. She next began spanking her son, who looked much more embarrassed than his sister by the punishment. He hadn't minded showing his young manhood to a girl, but to be spanked on the bare backside was something entirely different. She shouted out every time the ruler struck his ample behind, and began to cry as soon as he was hit. The flesh on his ass bounced up and down, for he was a rather heavy boy, always being put on some kind of special diet by the family doctor.
Mrs. Harris gave her daughter twenty-five smacks in all, and the same number for her son. Their behinds were now quite pink, and before she let them stand up and get dressed, Mrs. Harris gave them a resounding crack with the back of her hand, the final touch to a scene of humiliation and degradation. She had them get themselves back into their clothing, and told Janet to say goodbye to them very quickly. Karen still looked mad at her friend, and Michael just took his clothes, covered his face with them, and ran off into the corner, hiding his shame, although his sore ass was still visible for all the world to see.
Janet walked home slowly after that. She had been excited by the sight of Michael's cock, and had enjoyed watching Janet make it hard. Her mother had begun telling her the facts of life, and she was happy to have seen an example of it, but at the same time, felt sorry that her friend and her brother had been so embarrassed in front of her.
Yet even in spite of this feeling, Janet had enjoyed watching it. She had felt this funny tingle inside her, somewhere above her crotch and below her belly that was totally new to her. She had felt embarrassed herself, and yet she had felt envious of Janet and Michael, as though she had been naughty too, and the three of them deserved to be punished together, so that they could have shared their shame as well as their joy. She felt cheated and guilty, cheated because she had wanted to feel the pain and redemption of punishment, and guilt because she had remained silent about her part in the action.
When she got home, she told her mother what had happened. She said she was sorry, that she knew she had done something that was wicked and bad, and that she would never do it again. She had been expecting some kind of spanking, but none was forthcoming. She told her mother that that was what she had anticipated, and wondered why not. Her mother just told her that she had been honest, that she had told the truth and confessed that she had done something bad and that as long as this was the case, there was no reason for further punishment. Janet went to her room after that, feeling very cheated.
That's the answer, she said to herself, that's why I enjoyed what Phil did to me last night. All my life I've been looking for someone to punish me, beat me so as to cause pain after I've done something wrong. She had always felt a thrill go through her on the rare occasions she had witnessed any kind of punishment scene, a whipping in a spy movie, or even the artfully posed S & M scenes the slick sex magazines sometimes ran. She had never before actively pursued this quirk in her personality, but since it had bitten her on the ass, so to speak, she was going to find out more about it. If it meant that her sex life would liven up a little bit, it was well worth it.
She went out to the supermarket once again, and made a point of buying all the foods that she had purchased the night before. She was going to make that dinner for him again, and she was going to see to it this time that nothing marred the occasion the way it had the night before. She again got the champagne, and set things up so that the lighting of the room would be as romantic as possible. This time, however, she bought no plastic wrap. There was going to be nothing that even hinted at defiance or threats this time around. There'd only be an atmosphere of trust, of harmony, and of affection between two people who were really just getting to know each other.
Janet had everything ready, and ran to the door, dressed in one of her nicest outfits. Phil, to her surprise, had cleaned up the mess of the night before previous to his leaving for work He left a note once again apologizing for his behavior of the night before. He had gone so out of his way to be apologetic and accommodating that she wondered what he would be like upon arriving home. She would find out in just a second.
She threw her arms around his neck as he walked in the front door. She surprised him, and his mouth was at first unyielding as she stuck her tongue as far into his mouth as she could, searching around, seeking out his tongue, and gradually getting him to follow her lead in having the tongues run circles around each other. He dropped his briefcase, and gently pulled her away.
"Thank you," he told her. "I'm sorry, but I just can't kiss or do any of that right now. I have this problem ... well, let's talk about it. The food smells good. It's the same stuff that we had last night, isn't it?"
"Yes, it is," she said, feeling mixed emotions about his mood.
"That's good. I'm glad you're giving things a second chance. That's much more than I have a right to expect. It's really very kind of you. You have more champagne?"
"Yes, a bottle left over from last night, and another one that I bought today."
"That's good," he said. "I could use a drink. And I'm starved, too."
They went to the kitchen, and ate the meal rather quickly. They didn't talk about very much. Phil had asked her about what kind of day she had had, and he told her in turn about the case and the way it had gone that afternoon. He seemed distracted by something most of the time, as if there was something preying on his mind that he was unable or unwilling to divulge, but Janet figured that she would let it pass, and let him talk about whatever seemed to be uppermost in his mind. The rest would take care of itself.
By the time that they finished dinner, they had finished an entire bottle of the champagne, and they opened the second one. Phil seemed to be in a merry frame of mind at the moment, and began telling some anecdotes concerning the sex lives of some of the other men in the office. They were constantly making life miserable with regards to the female employees of the office, whether they were secretaries or young law clerks looking to get themselves started in the firm. They were constantly getting into trouble and turning to Phil to make excuses for them. He had placed them in the most inventive of places, often making up terribly complicated excuses for them that they would call in to get from him, cursing him all the time for the kinds of tales that he would spin. "The craziest thing is," he would chortle, "the wives think that I'm the one responsible for leading them astray. What a laugh! They usually call me the virtuous virgin, or the counselor of maidenhead." There was more than just a twinge of bitterness to his voice as he said these words, and Janet could see that in his eyes.
"They usually tell me," he went on, "that I'm pretty damn lucky to have a wife who's so wonderful that I don't ever want to screw around on her. They say they wish that they were in my shoes. If only they knew, I always say to myself, that I'm incapable of screwing you."
Janet felt her heart sink. Phil looked near tears, and he hung his head in shame. "You mean that you haven't told anyone about this?" she asked him. He shook his head.
"How the hell could I? It's just so embarrassing. I've always been like this."
"Do you want to tell me about it, darling?" She sat over near him in an attempt to comfort him with the proximity of her body.
"Yes, and I'm going to," he said. "I just need some time to get all my thoughts together." He poured himself a fresh glass of champagne, and drained it out of the glass as fast as he could.
* * *
The problem, as Phil told it, had started when he was very young. He had always liked going naked as an infant and one winter he had gone for a long time without doing it thanks to the cold weather. That spring, when he was just a few months short of his third birthday, he had gone outside to play on a very warm day, and had taken his clothes off, running around the backyard in his birthday suit. Suddenly, as he was running in the large field that stood behind his parents' house, he heard his mother calling his name. He turned, saw her coming toward him as fast as she could. She grabbed him by the arm, and leaving his clothes in the yard, had dragged him back into the house.
"Once inside," he went on to tell her, "she made me go over her knee. She began to spank me. This was the first spanking that I ever had. My parents had both hit me before, but I had never been put over the knee and punished in this way. Once she had hit me a couple of times, I began to cry, because her hand hurt me so much. She just kept smacking me until her hand hurt too much, I suppose, and then she stood me up, grabbed me by the hair, and told me that every time I went outside naked, I was going to get a spanking, and that I had left clothing outside that I was going to have to retrieve right now, and that since that was the case, I was going to be going outside naked again, and would be punished for it."
"Of course you don't mean that?" Janet broke in.
"I sure do," he said. "She meant every word of it. She made me run outside and pick up my clothes. I was feeling very embarrassed here, because I thought that now I was doing something that was sinful, and that if I got caught everyone who saw me would punish me and say that I was bad. This is a pretty heavy thing for a kid of that age. So I just ran inside as soon as I got everything together, and hoped that there was no one around. Which wasn't very likely since we live on a large piece of property that no one could see into."
He poured himself another glass of champagne before Janet wondered how anyone could consume so much of it so quickly, but she figured that the liquor must be helping to jog his memory, and that it was okay as long as he seemed to be comfortable drinking that much. She wanted nothing but his comfort.
"Once I got back into the house, she had taken out that wooden spoon. She made me bend over a chair, and spanked the living daylights out of my ass, telling me what a bad little boy I was. I remember being very frightened, because I hadn't done anything that I thought was wrong, but I was being punished. I knew that bad people were supposed to go to hell, in a very childish way, of course, and I was afraid that I was going to go to hell now. I was crying, the tears were streaming down my face, and my ass was really on fire. Every stroke of that spoon hurt so much that I thought it would break across me, just like I had seen happen in cartoons.
"When she finished with me, she asked if I knew why I had been punished. I was crying very hard, so I guess I must have just shook my head. She told me that I was being punished because I had been a very bad boy. I had run around without my clothes on, and that was a bad thing to do. I said that she had let me do that before, and she told me that that was different, that at that time I had been a baby, and babies are allowed to, but once you reach a certain age, you keep your clothes on all through the day, and that you only take them off to take a bath or get undressed, and that it was a sin if you" even took off your clothes and sat around all by yourself naked. She told me to go to my room, and stay there until supper time.
"That was my first spanking. I received a lot after that. Every time that I did something that was wrong, my father would always punish me. I remember that one morning my brother, my sister and I were playing with each other the way that little kids do, and we were making so much noise that my father came in and saw what we were doing. Boy, did we get it! First of all, he made the three of us march outside in our pajamas. Then when we were out there, he made the three of us, including my sister, take off all of our clothes. He took a stick that he had taken from a birch tree, and swung it against us really hard. He always used that to punish us, and it really hurt a hell of a lot. It was even worse than the wooden spoon, because it stung also. He beat us all about thirty times, to the point where we were practically screaming. My brother began to cover his ass with his hands, and my father hit his hands until he let them down at his side, then gave him another fifteen because of the ones that had just hit his arms. This went on all throughout our childhood. Eventually, it was told to us that Adam and Eve had committed the first sin, and that since then, it was wrong for anyone to commit sins of the flesh, sins of lust. We had to remember this and keep our bodies and minds pure.
"I would still take my clothes off, and even started playing with myself when I was about five. I would always get spanked whenever I would get caught at it. So I was really guilty about my body, and really thought that it was bad. This was all through my childhood. I just grew up believing that the body was ugly, and that you weren't supposed to let anybody see you, or you would go to hell.
"I learned about sex when I was thirteen. I was starting to get hair around my genitals, and I had started to have sexual fantasies when I was about eleven. I would often have them when I was in church, praying with all of my classmates. I would have the fantasies about being tortured while I was naked, and these women who were dressed up as nuns, only mostly naked, with just the shawls over their heads, would whip me on the ass, and spank me, make me piss in front of them. I had developed a funny thing about this whenever I went to the doctor, too. I used to pretend to not be able to pee into the bottle, and one of them would give me a lot of water, and then "help me to pee." This kind of stopped when I was twelve, because I figured that I couldn't get away with it anymore."
He finished talking for a few minutes. He leaned back in the chair, and took a deep breath. He asked Janet to get him another drink. He drained off about half of the scotch and water she brought for him, and then he went on with the story.
"My sister was two years older than I was, and when I was thirteen, she'd already pretty much matured. She was a good looking girl, and I used to try to watch her get dressed. One time, she caught me looking at her. I was petrified that she was going to call our mother and tell her, but instead, she told me to come in and sit down on the bed. She had her skirt on, and her bra. She took the bra off, and sat next to me. She asked me if I liked her titties, that was her word, and I said yes, they looked really nice. Then she took off her dress, and asked me if I liked that too. I told her yes again, and by this time I had a bulge in my pants. Both of our parents were out at this point, so she had me take down my pants for a look at my prick. I was pretty well hung for a guy my age, and I was at full mast. She smiled at me, and came up close to me, and began to jerk me off. She told me to play with her nipples, and not to be too rough, because they were sensitive. She had really lovely tits, and I liked the way they felt, kind of squishy. She kept pumping me, and I felt excited. After a long time, I began to get this feeling that I had never had before, like a fire that started down in my balls, and went through my whole body. The sensation was centered in my cock, and before I knew it, I was coming. I shot my cream all over her belly, and she directed it on to herself, and rubbed it into her tits and belly. She then bent down, and began kissing my prick.
"I was really shocked at this. I was afraid of the sensation that I had just felt. I had had a couple of wet dreams already, but I had never felt anything like this, and I was afraid that something awful had happened, because I felt such strange things running all through my body.
"We never mentioned the incident again. My sister went on to have a really wild adolescence. She would sneak out of the house to meet her boyfriends, which she wasn't supposed to have, would stay after school saying she was going to try out for a play or something, and then she would go off and have sex with somebody. She kept up a really wild life, and she got pregnant. My father was furious when he found that out, and he sent her to a convent school, where she had the baby and it was put up for adoption. After that, they tried to keep her under lock and key, but on her eighteenth birthday, she ran away from home, and hasn't been heard from since.
"I and my brother weren't allowed on dates until we were seventeen. That was really a drag, and they used to bad mouth every girl that I ever brought home. They were all tramps and sluts, and they were all just going to lead us astray. My mother used to talk about sex as though it were some kind of a burden, and I always got the impression that neither she nor my father had much interest in it. But I found out that I was mistaken."
"You saw them screwing?" Janet asked.
"More than that," he replied. "On night, when they thought that I was asleep, I heard this noise coming from downstairs. I went down, and looked behind this door that lead to a party room that my parents would use whenever they had company over. They would often go down at night, and the room was soundproof, but tonight they had forgotten to shut the door all the way, and I could peek inside. And there I saw my father beating my mother on the bare ass with the birch rod."
"What!" Janet exclaimed.
"She was stark naked, and strapped to this table that was made up of two wooden saw horses, and a piece of wood that was running over the top. He was getting her to confess to all of her ... sins. Things like playing with herself when she went to the bathroom, and looking at us when we were in the bathroom. For everything that she confessed, she got five strokes with the rod. I watched the whole thing. I was really fascinated. Then, when he has really whipped her ass raw, he untied her, and made her go down on her knees, and suck his cock. He did it pretty violently, too. He'd take it out and slap her face, telling her she was a filthy whore who didn't even deserve to be allowed to suck him. She just nodded dumbly and called him a fuck and all kinds of stuff like that. When he had been sucked enough, he put her down with her hands tied behind her back, and fucked her. He did it very violently, and she got incredibly turned on by it.
"I got up to my bed. I hid under the covers and when they came by the room, I was convinced that they were really going to severely punish me. I was sure that they knew, but they just went to bed, and didn't even look in on me like they would normally do. They just walked right on by, and went off to sleep. I guess that they had really satisfied each other."
"How old were you then?"
"I was fourteen. I didn't kiss a girl that I took out anyplace until I was eighteen, and when that happened, I was sure that I had done something really wrong. I felt so guilty about it. I went into that religious order figuring that I could get completely away from sex there. I had been plagued by these fantasies all through my adolescence, and every time a girl gave any indication that she wanted me to kiss her, suddenly I would be overcome by this sense of revulsion, and I would have this urge to whip her for being so bad, and for trying to corrupt me. I wanted to get away from all of that, because I couldn't even hold hands with anyone and not feel that way. But going into the monastery wasn't any kind of answer either. Things just got worse there, and I would have these really violent fantasies where I would whip the shit out of these women, and I almost had a nervous breakdown because I was becoming more and more sinful. Luckily, there was this really sympathetic abbot there, and I could talk to him. He listened to everything that I had to say, and he told me that he had known all along that I wasn't cut out for that sort of life, that I wasn't a bad person, that I was just troubled, and that the answer was to go back to try lead a normal life, and to see a psychiatrist. I did go back to the outside world, but I didn't go to a shrink."
"Why not?"
"Because we had always been told that only crazy people went to psychiatrists, and I was so desperate that I felt that any kind of admission like that meant there was something wrong with me would end with my breaking up completely. So I lead an almost entirely celibate life. I've sometimes been to prostitutes, but every time, I always go to the bizarre types, the ones that let you whip them, and then I would always just have them suck me off. I could never have intercourse with them because I was too afraid. Afraid that I would catch something, that is."
"Were you a virgin when we married?" Janet inquired, wondering if that were possible.
"No," he said. "I got in touch with this submissive woman through this ad in a magazine. She would let me beat her, then afterwards, I would rape her very violently. I would even put it up her ass. That went on for only a few months, because she wanted to get me into an orgy, and I didn't like the idea, so we stopped seeing each other."
"Phil," Janet interposed, "I ask you this not to hurt you, but because I am generally curious, and I want to know the truthful answer. Why did you marry me?" He stared at the floor before answering in a surprisingly calm and easy tone.
"Why?" he answered. "Because you're pretty. Because you were very sexy, and because I have this image of the perfect woman that I got from a picture of Saint Theresa when I was a young kid, and you look a hell of a lot like that picture. You were gentle and funny, and you made me feel really good just by being the very sweet and precious person that you are. I was finally starting to overcome my problems, and I thought that you would be a good person to overcome them with, but then following our love making, there would always be that terrible, gnawing guilt that I could never shake off. So I did it as seldom as I possibly could. I felt really bad, as though I had cheated you, and I suppose that I had. But absolutely nothing that I told myself seemed to make any kind of difference. I was stuck with these miserable guilt trips that were laid on me when I was a little kid, and there just wasn't a thing that I could do. I did start seeing a shrink three weeks ago on my lunch hour, but we're just scratching the surface, and I haven't even gotten around to telling him the way I feel about these things."
"Phil," she said. "I want you to understand that I love you very much, and that I don't mind what you did to me last night. Just the opposite, in fact. I liked it. I got off on it. I had been waiting all these months for you to just sweep me up like that and I hadn't realized until you did. I knew that I wanted your body, but I didn't have any idea at the depth of my need for that spanking. It took you to show me that, and I'm grateful."
"But how can you even stand to look at me?" he suddenly cried, burying his hands in his face. "I'm a rotten, miserable sadist, and I'll never be able to enjoy a normal sex life!"
"Phil, Phil, my silly darling," she said, rushing over to his side. "What is a normal sex life? Is it just screwing in the missionary position, and doing it just to make babies? As long as the act is simply between two consenting adults, what on earth can be wrong with it?"
"But I beat you!" he sobbed. "And I loved it! It turned me on more than anything that's ever been done to me. I loved it, and all day I've been feeling the marks on my ass, and thinking of how helplessly, hopelessly trapped I was, and how sexy it made me feel. I came just from your beating me, did you know that?" He shook his head. He seemed to be pleased by this bit of information. But then he looked at her again with very sad eyes.
"But that's the only way that I can have sex," he told her. "Do you want to spend the rest of your life with a man who has to beat you before he can make love to you?"
She stared him in the eyes, and then smiled bitchily. "Why don't you come up and find out, you helpless little wimp?"
An icy glance shot over his face, disappearing quickly when he realized what she was saying was a gag meant to entice him. He smiled sheepishly.
"Okay," Phil told her. "Now just listen to me, you lousy tramp. I've had enough of that goddam lip of yours. You're going to march upstairs right now, and get what's coming to you, understand?"
She quickly obeyed, scurrying up the stairs. She ducked into the bedroom and stood there waiting for him to go about some kind of business that she couldn't figure out from only the sounds, and her heart skipped a beat when she finally heard him walking up the stairs.
CHAPTER FOUR
He came into the room with a very stern look on his face. He carried a drink in one hand, and in the other several strands of rope. He placed them on the dresser, and then walked over to her, slapping her hard on the face. Janet felt the tingly rush of blood to her cheek, and she felt a thrill inside her.
"Okay, you filthy little tramp," he said to her. "I thought I made it very clear to you that you would receive your fucking when I was good and ready to give it to you. You could have tried acting like other people, but no, you had to go through this charade for the second night in a row, hoping that I would just go out of my skull with desire for you filthy, disgusting cunt, isn't that right?"
"Yes," she said blankly. He reached up, took a handful of her hair, and wound it up between his fingers so that it was being held in an extremely hurtful manner, causing her much pain.
"You stupid cunt," he drawled at her. "You should know by this time that the only proper form of address is to call me 'sir,' now isn't that right?"
"Yes, sir, yes master," she cried. He released her hair, and she pulled back, holding her head. She was beginning to feel the tingle of fright, and could tell that this was going to be a very stimulating domination.
"That's better," he stated. "That's much better. I can see that although you are impudent, and need to be reminded of your duties, you manage to learn very quickly. That will help you in the long run. He stepped back by the dresser, and pulled up a small dressing stool, sitting himself down on it, and lifting his drink. "Well now, you don't think I'm going to do this and ruin all those gorgeous clothes that I wasted my money on, do you? Down to your panties, you stupid bitch! That dress cost a pretty penny, and I don't want to see it damaged just because it was unfortunate enough to be on your disobedient back."
Janet began to strip her clothes off very slowly. She was feeling embarrassed at having to strip in front of this demanding, macho stud who was about to whip her violently to ease his furious passion, and she could sense already that her pussy was moist and eager for whatever was to follow.
She was soon stark nude, except for the skimpy black panties that covered her modestly, and Phil got up, smiling as he walked around her. He ordered her to stand at attention, and he did a complete tour of her quivering nakedness, touching the ice-cold glass to the small of her back, and her nipples. She winced at the cold, trying to stay at attention while the chilly sensations aroused her nipples to erection.
"Interesting," he stated, staring at the puckered tit tip. "It looks as though you're ready now so spread your legs, whore!"
Janet did as she was told, standing with her legs as far apart as she could manage. She expected the whipping to start soon, but instead, Phil had her do things to herself. First, he had her play with her nipples. After having her do that for a few minutes, she was ordered to put a finger inside her panties, and play with her cunt. She obeyed this command as well, toying with her clitoris, reaching further in and slipping her finger up the cunt. She was beginning to turn herself on, and she fit more fingers in, thrusting them in and out as though they were a cock, feeling the moisture increase its presence, sticking to her panties, and spreading out on the flesh inside her thighs and around her cunt, mixing up in her bush as well.
Phil was back on his feet now, and he shook her out of her blissful state by squeezing a nipple, rather softly this time, and ordering her to reach down, and grab hold of her ankles. She did so, and he slipped the panties down. He exposed the rounded flanks of her ass, and he told her now to take one of her fingers and play with herself again, without pulling the panties out of the position they were now in. She did this, and she felt a wave of joy rush over her body the moment she put her finger to her cunt again. Phil caressed her buttocks behind her, and moved his hands down to the tops of the thighs also, finally coming up, running the hand in between the cheeks, and then flattening the palms against the buttocks so that they opened up to give a fine view of her asshole and pussy.
He concentrated on the crack, running fingers up both sides, and then slipped the finger to the opening of the asshole, worming it in slowly. Janet's sphincter offered no resistance to his finger this time, and it slipped in with a maximum of ease. She slipped her own finger into her cunt, and could feel it rubbing up against his in the adjoining tunnel.
Phil pushed the finger into the ass as far as it would go, and then with it sitting at the maximum point of penetration, he lifted his other hand and brought it squarely down on the helpless Janet's ass. He repeated this procedure a number of times, smacking hard, especially against the areas that he had made sore the night before. Janet still had her finger in her cunt, and she could get little jolts of pleasurable pain every time he hit her and she was jolted so that the layer of flesh between the twin holes was pinched. She howled and giggled at the same time, feeling the wounds begin to tingle with the stimulation of the fresh beating.
He soon tired of this, and sensing it wasn't causing her enough pain, he tied her arms behind her back, and had her kneel on the floor. He stood before her, and removed his shoes. His feet, large feet at that, were covered by black socks which he ordered her to remove with her teeth. Janet tried to pull them from the toes, but this didn't work out. She had to reach up above the pant cuffs, and grab onto them at that point. She pulled them off, taking care not to nick her teeth against his skin. She removed one, then the other, and waited his orders.
"Kiss them," he ordered. She bent over, and applied her lips to his toes, kissing each one individually on the nails and also on the fleshy parts. "Lick them," he ordered. "Lick them really good. I want to feel that tongue in between my toes, licking out everything there, and I want to feel you work to the underside of my feet as well."
She commenced licking, sticking her tongue out, and feeling the moist surface touch the rather cold flesh. She licked them slowly, often flicking her tongue across the tips. She pressed the tongue against the spot where the toes met, and forced her tongue in between. She licked all the way back to where the toes receded to the main part of the foot, and after she had done this, she moved it down to the floor, and pushed against the bottom of his feet, and as he lifted, she scooted the tongue underfoot, licking at the entire sole of his bare foot. She finished this process, and he ordered her to suck the toes. This she did to them individually, drawing her tongue over them as she applied the sucking pressure to each toe, feeling the edges of his toenails inside her mouth, scraping just enough to be felt but never to cut. She completed her task, and then he put the other foot in front of her face.
"Same thing," he commanded. And she obediently went through the entire process again.
When she finished sucking the last digit on the other foot, he stepped away from her angrily. "That was miserable," he complained. "That was just about the worst toe sucking that I've ever had to endure. I don't know why the hell I put up with it, it was so bad. You've displeased me, you bitch, you know that? You've displeased me, and you know what that means, don't you? Don't you?" He emphasized his displeasure by giving her a swift boot to the rear.
"No master, what does it mean?" she whimpered, the powerful force of his foot sending shivers throughout her ass and pelvic area.
"It means," he went on to say, "that you are going to get a taste of my whip. You are going to be punished for what you did, do you understand that?" He took off his belt. She heard the tinkling belt buckle as he removed it and allowed it to swing ominously to the foot of the bed. She saw it come around in front of her face, extended out there by his outstretched hand.
"Kiss it," he hissed, "Kiss the buckle, you slimy cunt." She did as she was told. He brought it back behind her, just above the floor and she nervously anticipated the first blow that she knew was coming.
It didn't come for a long while. He ran the belt along her spine, allowed the tip of the unbuckled edge to run along the ass crack, and then he actually bent down and inserted the tip in her vagina. She felt the lips open before the skinny leather phallus, and he shoved it rather far into her, bringing a gasp of contentment from her. He left it there, and suddenly, she felt the sharp sting against her buttocks, landing full and hard on her relaxed, vulnerable ass. She was confused as to how this was being done, when she realized that he had looped the belt so that he could take short and painful, though not really damaging swings with part of the belt inserted in her cunt. He did this several more times, and then decided to get down to brass tacks. He pulled the inserted portion of the belt out, and held it high above his head, bringing down as hard as he could. She had been ready for this onslaught, but still was caught short when it happened, jerking forward and yelping out loud. He laughed at her pain.
"You feeling a little uncomfortable down there? That's too bad. You should have thought of that before being such a disobedient girl. But you'll learn your lesson yet, don't worry. I haven't had a cunt yet who didn't. Of course," he added with an obscene chortle, "sometimes it can take a lot of time before they get wise. Which is certainly fine with me."
He laid into her ass with full fury, stopping only when he got too tired to go on. She felt each blow against the wounds of the night before, and they brought them to life again, setting the nerve endings a humming, stimulating the rush of blood that headed for wherever the belt landed. She could feel some sections of her ass burning, while others, by now bruised rather heavily, became numbed out. She could feel a very faint, dull pain through a large dead spot, and the vibrations the blows of the belt became much more apparent as these spots were made less susceptible to the pain.
Phil thrashed at her behind until it had become a lovely hue of strawberry red. She felt each lash of the belt so powerfully now, each separate blow adding to her complete helplessness. She was his slave, she was his tool, she was an instrument to be used for the satisfaction of whatever petty whim should come into his mind. She delighted in this role, accepting the whipping as his declaration of love, taking each blow as a kiss, something meant to affirm affection.
She was beginning to reach a new level of awareness. No longer someone whose libido remained separate from her life. She was now aware of herself as something that existed solely for the pleasure of her husband. She was, she realized, attaining a state of true carnal knowledge, wherein one subjugates everything that he or she wants or has in order to fulfill a loved one. She had given of herself completely, and was to be rewarded with the state of bliss that comes to all who trod the proper path to sexual enlightenment.
Phil was finished with the whipping. He now stood above her, savoring the scene of the nude, whipped beauty. He walked around her, surveying the sight of his slave beneath him, brutalized, and battered. He reached behind her, and pulled her so that she was upright while still on her knees. He left her hands bound, and undid his fly. She could see that he was at least at a half erect state, and his cock popped out rather quickly. He said nothing to her, merely grabbed her hair, and forced her face to his throbbing prick. She took it with her mouth, paying special attention to the head, licking the tip and slipping it into her mouth and sucking it, making it hard, and causing it to give that slight pump that is similar to coming, but is neither as intense or as wet. He forced her to take the entire shaft in her mouth. He pulled her hair now so that she was drawing it in and out in a way that would please him. She kept her lips covering her teeth so as not to cause any damage to the tender cock that was being forced into her at such a fast rate.
She had never taken a cock at this speed before. She was finding it a bit difficult to breathe, a fact that added to her sense of general helplessness, and served to arouse her further. She was feeling completely at his mercy. She felt the ropes that bound her wrists, and just out of curiosity, began to struggle against them to see how tight they were. They didn't dig into her flesh, but nonetheless were sufficiently tight to prevent her getting out of them. She was at his mercy, completely, and fought just a little bit harder against the restraints to remind her of her place.
Phil now forced her head as far against himself as he could, driving his prick to the back of her throat. He now held it there, and she could feel the spot where his cock and balls met. She felt the tickle of his pubic hair against her chin, and could smell the aroma of his testicles, the thick, heavy, though rather nice odor that arises from the crotch after a hard day's labor. He stayed there a long time. She ran her tongue along the underside of the shaft, and tried to relax herself. His cock was fairly long, and she could feel the muscles in her throat straining as though she might gag. Suddenly, he pulled her head back, and then shoved the cock in just as far, put now instead of leaving it stationary, he simply thrust it in and out rapidly, almost ramming her head into his crotch in the process.
The abused slave took him in as well as she could, and then felt the prick harden. She felt the first, dry pulse of his orgasm, and then shrieked and stiffened as the first jet of sperm shot into her mouth. He forced her head to his crotch again, shot his wad into her throat. She could feel the expansion and contraction of his magnificent, throbbing, convulsive, demanding cock in her, and felt the hot cream bouncing against her tonsils. It came out hot, and then rolled off rapidly as it dripped down her throat. She could feel it going all the way down into her intestines, and she had a mild climax of her own, not the kind she had gotten used to in the past day or so, but still enough of a one that she had to try to open the sides of her mouth in order that she might get in the additional air that she needed.
Phil let the last drop drain into her throat, and finally withdrew his limp dick. He pushed it up against her face now. She could feel the last bit of stickiness against her soft, warm cheek. It had a cooling off effect, and as she felt the sperm in her mouth, felt it all sticky and slimy and slivery as was the threads that she had seen as spiders weave their delicate webs. Phil was gently stroking her hair.
"A good slave, indeed. You pleased me very much with that particular exercise. You are learning your lesson very well and I shall now reward you with a nice, cooling shower. You deserve it, believe me."
He pulled her up to her feet once more, this time taking care not to be at all rough. He was enforcing that when she was good and when she pleased him, she would be dealt with gently and with deference to her own libidinous tastes. This gentleness, after the fury of her whipping, and the fucking of her face, done with such callous disregard for her comfort, had a soothing effect that pleased her very much. She felt totally in love with Phil, this man who was by turns so brutal and so kind, and who knew how to mix the two so well that the ultimate effect was to give her extraordinary pleasure.
They got into the bathroom, and he undid her hands."You are to wait here like a good slave," was his instruction to her. He went out of the bathroom, and returned with one of her scarf's. He tied it around her head, securing it so that it caused her no pain, but allowed her to see nothing either. He now helped her into the tub. She could feel the bath mat that was gingerly placed under her feet, and then felt her hands being placed over her head. Phil then tied her hands together with the ends of the rope, looping the strand around the shower head before he tied it around her wrists. He tied it tightly.
Janet was now standing so that she was directly underneath the shining shower head. Phil turned the water on. It was cold, extremely cold, and Janet squealed as the freezing stream of water hit against the top of her skull, and ran down her body. It was quickly shut off, and she heard the harsh voice of her master.
"You bitch," he barked, "who the hell gave you permission to scream like that? Who do you think you are, to doubt the wisdom of he who commands you?"
"I'm sorry master, forgive me, please," she whimpered helplessly.
"I will forgive you. And I will continue this shower. But in order to prevent further outbursts such as that, I am going to gag you." He left the room, and came back very shortly after that with her panties and a roll of masking tape. He stuffed her creamed-up underwear into her mouth, and wrapped the tape around her head so that it was underneath her hair.
"That way," he said, "none of those pretty blonde strands will be ripped out when it is necessary to remove the gag. I don't want to do anything like that," he hissed, chuckling as he surveyed the utterly helpless position of his wife.
He turned the cold water on again, and listened as her screams were muffled by the stuffing inside her mouth. She writhed helplessly as the freezing liquid cascaded down her body. She had always hated cold water, and felt it numb out the top of her skull gradually. It was turned off, and then Phil turned the other nozzle on to the full open position.
The water started out lukewarm, then became hot, then scalding. The layer of cold water that had stood on her skin protected her from the fire-hot water, but it was soon washed away, and began to burn her. This was shut off very quickly, and then the cold water doused on her skin again. She howled and shrieked, but the gag prevented any of the screams from becoming fully audible, a fact that seemed to tease and torment her as much as anything else that had been done to her that night or the night before.
Phil shut off the cold water, and grabbed each ass cheek, giving it a good hard squeeze and then tapping it gently, just sufficiently enough to make the skin bounce about. He did this for a few minutes, toying with her, giving her the feeling of being a mere object, not even something to be regarded as human. A living creature yes, but not human, not worthy of the respect and dignity that a human should be given.
This time when the water went on, it was mixed so that a comfortable stream of warm water soothed her tortured skin. She had dreaded the turning of the nozzles, and now relaxed her tensed muscles as she realized that this time the water would be used to give pleasure, and not pain. She had come, in the last few minutes, to dread the split second between the time the nozzle was opened and the water actually hit her. She would tense up in that amount of time, the only defense she had against the cold and hot sprays. Now she felt the comfortable warmth spread over her whole frame, and felt it liven up the welts and sore spots in her ass.
Phil began to soap her up now, rubbing her back and her ass very tenderly. He told her to spread her legs, and he soaped up the length of the thighs and calves, up to her bush. He soaped up this part of her, running the lather into her cunt, and all through the vaginal area. He soaped up her ass, lingering over the bruises, finding from her winces which were the most sensitive areas, and paying the most attention to them. She jumped at some points. Other spots were so lightly bruised that she merely twitched her buttocks, so much sometimes that the cheek actually managed to elude his grasp, and remain in a tensed up position as she was forced to struggle to relax it.
He finished washing her, and rinsed the soap out of her cunt very carefully. Then he lathered up her torso and back. He stood back from her, and as he did so, she heard the clank of his belt buckle against the side of the tub.
"We are nearing the end of your shower," he informed her. "You have on the whole been a good slave as I have bathed you, and now you need to go through but one more phase of the scrubbing before we go on to other things. You have been thoroughly soaped up above the waist. You will remain under the cold water, receiving more of a whipping, until, and only until, every last bit of soap has been washed from your torso. This will require much twisting about on your part, so I suggest that you ignore the pain of the lash and the coldness of the water as much as you can, and merely concentrate on allowing the water to reach all the lathered parts of your anatomy."
With that, he turned on the cold water full force. Janet could feel the skull numb out very quickly, and felt the sting of the belt against her helplessly positioned buttocks. She could sense that the water was running down most of her torso, and she could feel it hit the thick coat of soap lather, and begin to wash it away. Phil started to concentrate the whipping on the backs of her legs, and she twisted as she tried to avoid them, and make them fall on less sensitive areas. But it was no use, she was a sitting duck, unable to twist about fast enough to eet out of the way.
In the meantime, she tried to make sure that the water got to every part of her where she knew there was soap. Her back was easily enough dealt with, she merely stuck her head under the shower head so that the stream of water fell down her back. To clean her torso, she put her face up so that it met the freezing spray straight on, and let it dribble down her front. She held there for an extra long while, not wanting to take any chances on missing any of the soap, and having her agony prolonged any further.
Her backside, of course, had been an open target in these moments and Phil was taking full advantage of the situation. The water was probably damaging his belt, but that mattered little. He was too busy enjoying the helpless writhings of the nude woman before him. Patches of her ass were beginning to stand out with a shade of blue underneath that original hue of red, and he started to selectively beat the most sensitive areas, watching Janet try to ignore the vicious lashes so that she could remove all of the soap.
She was finally sure that all the soap was off, except for a stream that ran down from her armpits. She slowly turned, and felt the cold river run down her arm.
She turned under the streaming water, hoping against hope that he would be satisfied.
The belt kept lashing at her.
She tried to ignore it and concentrate on the sensation of the steamy water as it ran down her armpit, washing out what remained of the soapy lather. She then began the painstaking process of twirling around so that the other side of her could be purged of the soap, and endured the last of his hard, mean swats. She finally got herself to where she had to be. She was so cold that she was almost entirely numb. She felt the water run through her armpit one last time, and then felt the water cease as the last of the soap was rinsed of her frigid frame.
Phil left her hanging there for a few minutes. She felt the water evaporate slowly off her skin. The room temperature was certainly much warmer than the water had been, and it now had the very pleasant grace to return the warmth to her body, and vaporize the no longer frigid drops that clung to her skin. She could feel the gooseflesh that had been standing out all over her body. Her nipples, were puckered up into an extreme erection. She felt so comfortable all of a sudden as the feeling came back into her body, and the shivers that ran throughout her caused her to reach a shuddering climax that added still more chills, that added to the orgasm.
She wanted very much to collapse. She wanted to be able to sink down to the bottom of the tub, and rest there, but the ropes held her to the shower head, and she was forced to remain in the standing position. She leaned forward, resting her forehead against the smooth and wet tiles. She allowed the side of her face to rest flush against the tile, and she could feel her breath, her warm, soothing breath, bounce off the tile and reach back toward her face.
He was at the point of losing all sense of who she was and what she was doing. She sensed a certain distance between herself and her feelings, as though she had taken leave of her body, and was floating about in some other part of the atmosphere, able to look down at her activities below with the detached serenity of someone watching a movie.
She had forgotten about Phil completely, and now was somewhat shocked to feel his hands begin to creep around her, gradually coming to rest on her breasts. He manipulated the globes slowly, wanting her to relax and enjoy the stimulation as much as she could. He began to kiss the back of her neck. He moved up behind those soft ears, and licked the moisture that was behind them, coming around, grabbing the ear lobe in his mouth and chewing very softly. He licked the tip, then slipped the tongue out so that it entered the ear itself. He searched it around the inside, leaving a nice bit of saliva that he dried with a gust of hot breath. He took the entire ear inside his mouth, and began licking and blowing, sucking the ear in gently, and letting go, keeping it in the mouth the whole time, and letting it come up against the surface of the tongue when he sucked it in.
This action was driving Janet out of her skull. The shivers tingled all throughout the sides of her body, and the never too long absent gooseflesh again put in an appearance. He kept on manipulating the tits, and she started to come once more, apparently so opened up at this point that it was more difficult for her not to come.
Phil now reached down, and inserted his cock into her. She felt his hands about her tits again, and she groaned regularly now, feeling him surging into her already highly aroused pussy. He pumped away, his hands still on her tits, and he began to massage her nipples somewhat more vigorously. He kept going at her, pushing himself into her as far as he could. She felt the convulsions begin again. She was in a state that had to be described as permanent arousal. She thrashed about as much as she could, moaning under the gag that still effectively prevented her communicating any of her feelings and emotions, moving about as much as she could, trying to let the feelings that were overwhelming her find some form of physical expression.
He was nearing another climax. He shoved himself into her and remained there, determined to hold off as long as he possibly could. He slowly pulled the prick out to the opening of the pussy, then slipped it in slowly. He withdrew it, slipped it in, withdrew it, slipped it in, gradually increasing the speed until he was flailing away at full tilt. She shrieked under the gag as she came yet again, an orgasm that took her out of herself again, and flying to some new, distant place. She felt this warm glow burst suddenly into a fire, and burst through her cunt into the rest of her, flooding every cell in her body with the delicious tingle of sexual satiation.
She gradually came back to earth. The glow had been from his sperm, and some of it now leaked out of her in a slow dribble. She could feel it running down her leg, sending tickles through her that relaxed and delighted her. She felt her husband's smooth hands untie her gag. He pulled the panties down slowly, not wanting to hurt her in any way, and then cut the very damp rope that now could not really be untied. He lifted her up in his arms, and took her off to bed.
She felt as though she had been totally possessed and satisfied. Even the mere touch of his hands to her, indeed, any section, any limb, any patch of skin that came into contact with hers set off the chills of ecstasy. They didn't say a word, just rested comfortably in each other's arms, and gradually fell off into a deep sleep.
CHAPTER FIVE
"How on earth can you stand to have that done to you?" Phil asked at breakfast the next morning. "I feel tremendous guilt, and here you are telling me that you loved it."
Janet shrugged her shoulders. "Look, do you think that I understand it? Do you think that I ever thought that I would get my jollies out of you beating my ass? I really have no understanding of this myself, but there it is, and I don't see what the hell is wrong with it."
"But it seems evil," Phil went on to say. "I felt so rotten when I woke up this morning and saw that poor little ass of yours. Do you realize that there are very heavy bruises on there now? What if you end up developing blood clots? This could end up being so dangerous, and what if things get out of hand? What if I end up permanently disfiguring you?"
"I don't think that that's liable to happen Phil. Look, I really don't have anything wrong with me right now. Okay, so my ass is turning several shades that Picasso would like to have thrown on a canvas, so what? The only thing that it really prevents me from doing is sitting down for a couple of days, and as long as the chair is nice and soft, I don't even have to worry about that."
"But what about the higher moral questions?" Phil said. "What about the law of God that decries such sordid deeds as this."
"Oh come on, you're starting to sound like a Sunday School lesson."
"I don't believe that you are taking this so calmly."
"Look, for the past ten months, I have been extremely frustrated and unhappy because you hadn't been making love to me, and after the other night, I was ready to get a divorce and hit you for all the money you were worth, because I felt that you had lied to me and misrepresented what you were all about and what you wanted out of our marriage. All of a sudden, not only are you fucking me, you're driving me into states where I can't even figure where I am, or who I am. You drove me right out of my skull the past two nights. Do you think I care about how it happens? Goddam, you didn't even have to fuck me to make it happen, you made me come skyrockets just by whipping. Believe me, I really don't care what you did, or what kind of scruples you may have been raised with concerning it, you finally gave me the thing that I have been waiting for the whole time that we've been married. I worship you now." She got down on the floor, and sat at his feet, putting her arms around his legs and holding him close to her. "Whatever do you think you're doing?" he shrieked. "I shouldn't be loved, I should be wiped off the face of the earth like some kind of dirty stain!"
"I love you," she kept on, kissing his sandaled feet, "I worship the ground that you trod on, I would do absolutely anything for you. You have shown me my true station in life," she went on. "I want nothing out of life but to be your plaything. I want you to use and abuse me for your own purposes, I want to feel you take me and brutalize me in every conceivable manner, I want to be owned by you, possessed completely by you, to be your whore, your strumpet, I want to be taken in your arms and made to feel as though I am a totally worthless wretch with no mission in life except to serve you properly and be whatever you want me to be."
Phil looked at her in stunned silence. He could not believe that any woman would say this to him, particularly not after what he had done to his wife.
"How can you say those things," he asked her in a very even tone of voice. "I have done nothing the past couple of days except beat you, brutalize you terribly, tie you up in demeaning positions, and raped you practically. I have given no thought at all to your physical comfort in any of these instances."
"Darling, don't you see that it doesn't matter? What difference does it make how you make me come? Do you think that I care? Listen," she said, rising up and sitting on his lap, "believe me, there are some things about the psychology of a woman that a man just cannot understand. We don't want to feel like large, powerful creatures. We want to be taken care of and provided for. We want to recreate the kind of relationship that we had with our fathers when we were young. We want to feel the big, strong arms of a man take us and enfold us in warmth and security, and we want to feel that we are all his. Do you remember that scene in "Gone With The Wind" when Clark Gable takes Vivien Leigh in his arms against her will and carries her up those stairs to their bedroom? Should I refresh your memory?"
"Clue me in completely," he replied, "I've never seen it."
My God, she thought, what a sheltered life he must have lead. "Well, Vivien Leigh and Clark Gable are having these problems. She is really in love with someone else all along, and he knows it, but he marries her anyway, and they have a child. They get into all kinds of quarrels, and one night, just as she is going to go upstairs alone, he picks her up, and she kicks and screams, but he takes her up this incredibly long, elegant stairway, and the very next thing you see is her the next morning. She's in her nightdress, and stretching out in bed as though the greatest thing in the world has just happened to her. She has this huge smile on her face, and she just lets it all out by stretching like some enormous cat. And all because she had been taken against her will and thoroughly, beautifully fucked. Do you see what I mean?"
"No," he said, almost on the verge of tears. My God, she thought, I may have to do more with him than I thought I'd have to.
"What I mean is, that a woman wants to be made into an object of her husband's lust. That's the natural way of things."
"But Simone de Beauvoir says -,"
"Oh, fuck Simone de Beauvoir! I'm talking about normal women, not some dike afflicted with terminal penis envy! I'm talking about being a normal, healthy, lustful woman who wants to be turned into a quivering mass of purple jello every time her husband fucks her!"
Phil appeared to be getting a slightly better grip on himself. "Maybe you're right," he said. "After all, the way that things had been going, I wasn't satisfying you at all, and at least now I am. And you do like all of those things that I do to you?" He had a very sad look. He desperately wanted to hear the answer that she would truthfully give.
"Darling," she said, "do you honestly think that I would go through with all of that if deep down in my heart of hearts I didn't love you more than anyone else in the whole world, and if I didn't find that to be one of the most arousing experiences that I've ever had? Do you honestly think I would let you do that to me if I didn't like it?"
"But how can you like it?" he said, bursting into tears. They were now back to square one.
"Darling, it isn't that I necessarily like the things that you do to me. I could have lived without the cold water, for instance. I love the feeling of helplessness that all of those activities inspires in me. I feel totally at your whims, and so governed by you. I feel as though I am a speck of dirt that you have graciously consented to allow to be ground beneath the sole of your shoe, I feel so open, I feel so much more a woman now, my darling. I feel that I can deny you absolutely nothing, and that's what excites me. I feel that I have no control over myself, that I am no longer responsible for anything that happens and that sets a fire in my cunt that eventually spreads through my entire body, and consumes me totally. Do you understand now?"
"You've made it pretty clear. It's just that I always hated that when I was a kid, I couldn't stand to have it happen-"
"And that was just because it happened to you too many times for you to remember it in any light except a frightful one. Darling, I never had that happen to me. I was spanked occasionally, but nothing like the beatings that you had to undergo. To me, it was something that happened very seldom, and a couple of times that it did happen, it was under circumstances that gave me kind of a thrill."
She told him about the incident with her childhood friend. He seemed to cheer up a little when hearing this. If he didn't look happy, he no longer looked sad either, and he listened to her story with a sense of genuine interest and understanding.
"So actually," she went on to say, "I had felt cheated that I didn't get the spanking myself. I felt that they got to atone for the wicked thing that they had done, and that now everything would be all right for them. But I felt that just telling my mother wasn't enough, that if I didn't get some other kind of punishment later on, I would have to burn in hell for it, or something like that. I no longer really believe any of that, of course, but back in my brain , there's still a little girl who wants to have her panties taken down and suffer the humiliation of a bare-ass spanking in front of her friend and her brother. And since there isn't any way that I'm going to get that, the next best thing is to do this here with you."
"You make it all sound so simple," he said, sniffling back the few tears that brimmed in his eyes.
"It isn't simple," she said, "and I'm sure that because I don't know very much psychology, I've made it sound a hell of a lot simpler than it really is. But that is the basic situation, and that is why I'd think that you are the terrible beast that you think you are, and why I like the stuff that you did to me, and why it turned little old me on and made me feel more open to a man than I have ever felt in my entire life. And I mean that. I love you. I love you even more than I did the day that we were married. I want you to know that there is nothing I would not do for you at this point. If you are feeling bad about what you did to me, then I want to help you come to terms with it in whatever way that seems most likely to produce the best results."
"Janet," he said to her, "I'm really afraid that I'm a very sick man, that I'm some kind of psychopath that ought to be locked up."
"Phil, you are no psychopath. You are a confused man who was brutalized as a child, and is only now beginning to realize that the things that have plagued you are things that can be dealt with. I don't want to say cured, because that isn't really the nature of the problem. There's nothing sick about it, you are merely acting a series of neuroses that were inflicted on you as a small boy."
"Yeah, I suppose that it's true. But just because it was something that was done to me, something that I couldn't prevent happening, that doesn't mean that I'm still not sick. I mean, look at Hitler."
"Darling, Hitler never gave anyone an orgasm, and you have. You've made me the happiest woman in the world. I really don't know what I have to do to make you believe it. You've turned me into your plaything, and I love that feeling. I want to feel that way for the rest of my life. I want to be yours. I want to be totally yours."
Phil just sat in his chair, and poured himself another cup of coffee. There doesn't seem to be any way that I can reach him, she thought. He's so consumed with his own self hatred, and so convinced that that's the way that he should feel about himself. I wish that there was something that I could do to change his mind, and make him see the truth about himself. He's a wonderful, warm, sweet man. That's been obvious all along.
She thought back for a moment to the first few months of their marriage, and of how she had felt when she wasn't disappointed about the sex that they were having. She thought of how he would call during the busy day. She knew that he was constantly on the go with things that occupied his time and his attention, but he would never fail to call and talk to her about the way that he felt. Sometimes she would be upset, and she would feel better after one of their talks because he had been so patient and kind. He would go out of his way to understand her. He would listen to any complaint or problem that she had. That's what had struck her as being peculiar when he would clam up and not talk when the topic was sex. It was the exact opposite of the way that he felt about everything else. She now understood that she had simply been threatening him on a subject that filled him with a lot of guilt and trepidation.
She thought of how he would always come home with some little present when she was down in the dumps. She thought of how he would call at three or four and order her to get dressed up and meet her at some of the fanciest restaurants in town for dinner, followed by some movie or play that she particularly wanted to see. He was so solicitous, so kind and romantic. That was also strange. He was very romantic once they had gotten married. Not that he exuded a sense of sexiness, but he had a way of making her feel like somebody very special. She loved him for this, and she was determined, absolutely determined that the man she loved and who had done so much for her was not going to slip into a slough of self loathing and despair.
She knelt and began to kiss his feet again. She stuck her tongue out, and flicked it very fast around the toes, and suddenly he began to giggle, and pulled his foot away.
"It tickles," he said through his laughter.
"There you see, that made you feel good, didn't it?" He nodded. "Well, since it made you feel good, and I did it voluntarily, then there isn't anything wrong with it, is there?"
"Given that criteria," he stated, in a rather pompous fashion, "I would have to say that there is nothing wrong with it, no."
"All right, now, look at this. I submit to you. I tell you that you can do anything you want to me, regardless of how much it might hurt. I have given my permission, and it's something that you want to do. I enjoy it in the bargain, so has anyone been hurt? Has any law been violated? I liked it, you liked it so what the hell is the problem?"
Phil was staring at her, half smiling, half looking as though he were about to cry again. "I know what you're saying, darling. Understand me, I know what you're getting at, and I have thought that to myself, and told myself that, and tried like the dickens to convince myself that that was true. Sometimes I've almost been able to make myself believe it, but ... "
"But what?" She looked at him, deathly afraid that he was going to cry again. He kept his composure, and kept on talking, however.
"I keep hearing this voice that tells me that I'm doomed forever, that I'm going to suffer the pains of hell for all eternity for my behavior."
"Who is that voice, do you think?"
"God, I suppose. Only it sounds like my father."
"Did your father always tell you that these things were wrong?"
"No, he never said that spankings or beatings were. He just said that sex was wrong, and made me feel that it was. The stuff about beatings is my own thing. I feel that they are wrong, but that was the way I was trained to respond to anyone showing that they either desired or wanted sex. If that happened, they were bad, and they were supposed to be punished."
"Well, that's not the way that things are, that's not the way that they're supposed to be, and whoever it was who told you that, in this case your parents, are very sick and very disturbed people. I hope it doesn't upset you to hear me say that, but that's the truth, and I hope that doesn't make you love me any less. They have a lot to answer for. They ruined your sister's life, from what you've told me. They ruined yours, and probably your brother's. What does your brother do anyway, you've never mentioned that?"
"He ran off to Europe, and he's involved with running a pornographic sex emporium in Copenhagen."
"You see what I mean? Look at what happened. You're the only one who didn't turn out a total waste, and you're so hung up about the perfectly normal act of making love to your wife that the only way you can do it is to turn it into punishment. Not that I'm complaining, mind you, I think that it's great. I just hate to see yourself torn apart by something that should be as natural as eating or sleeping."
"I guess that you're right, I just wish that I could make myself believe that. I really want to believe that."
"You will, darling. We'll make it happen, the two of us together. We'll make it happen, and the two of us will have orgasms together, orgasms that'll take us through the ceiling and out into space, trailing clouds of glory behind us as you turn my ass to raw hamburger."
They finished up their breakfast. Janet kissed Phil goodbye as he prepared to walk out to another day's hard work. He was supposed to see his psychiatrist that afternoon, after he finished up his court case, and he told Janet that he would begin to discuss all his problems in detail. She kissed him very hard, and then looked him straight in the eye.
"Don't worry, darling. We'll lick this, the two of us. We'll lick this, and we'll both be the better for it. Don't worry, I'm on your side. Any man that can give me orgasms such as the ones I have undergone in the past two days is a man who can overcome any problem, however great, and can surely overcome the problems that you, darling, were saddled with as a boy."
"I love you, Janet."
They kissed, and he finally left.
The first thing that Janet did upon his leaving was to clean up the breakfast dishes. She was feeling full of love for her husband at the moment, and wanted the feeling to last the whole day. As she sat down, she suddenly realized that it would last all day, and probably into the following week as well. She got up, and rubbed her very sore backside. This was something that she had wanted to do all morning, sitting in the rough breakfast table chair that graced their kitchen. She hadn't done so because she had not wanted to take the least chance of hurting poor Phil's feelings. She poured herself another cup of coffee, and walked into the living room.
She looked out the window at the well manicured lawn, and beyond, to the street, and the yards of her neighbors. It was a nice neighborhood that they lived in. She had never really appreciated it until this moment. She had never really appreciate any tiling about her life after the wedding because of the problems that she and Phil had had. They seemed so much smaller now. Before, everything had seemed to be so terrible, so incurably awful. She had given up thinking she would ever find out what the problem was, and had also given up caring if she would. But now, things had changed for the better.
The enemy was now known, and it was so much better that way, because once identified, it'd be met on its own terms and dealt with accordingly. Rather than a huge, unbeatable monster, it was a small, pale shadow that appears huge as long as the source remains obscure. But once discovered, you see that the hideous beast outlined on the wall is merely a cockroach standing in front of a flashlight. What a harmless creature. All you had to do was squash it, and the threat was terminated. Or, if you wanted to spare its life, merely turn off the flashlight.
After standing at the window and waxing poetic, Janet moved back into the kitchen, and once again made the mistake of sitting in the chair, the one with the rough seat. Ordinarily, this did not bother her at all. A simple pair of panties was usually the only protection that one's bottom needed from the rugged plastic that covered the seat.
This can't go on, she thought to herself. I'm going to be jumping out of my seat all day long, and won't that look weird in the future. I've got to sit somewhere else, my ass hurts too much from the whipping that my husband gave me last night. No, that won't do one little bit.
She went upstairs to the bathroom, slipped off her robe and dropped her panties. She got the hand mirror again, and a bottle of cold cream. She took these out into the full length mirror that stood in the hall, and held the mirror between her teeth. She opened the jar of cold cream, and stuck her hand in, removing a huge gob of the stuff, and placing the jar on the floor, took the mirror in hand, and turned her back to the larger one. She looked in the hand mirror. The sight that greeted her eyes almost brought tears to them.
Her backside was one enormous splotch of purple, fringed by some vague traces of red that had been there previous to the lavender. There were also welts and marks whose red stood out in contrast to the purple, and added an interesting effect. No wonder I feel so sore there, she thought. Yes, nice as all of this stuff is, I think that our practice of these particular arts is going to be rather more limited.
She applied the cold cream to her ass. It felt so cold that it seemed to burn. She gasped, because the sensation was so pronounced, so tingly. She had the shivers again. Her ass stood out with the little pimples, and she felt them shoot about halfway up her back before they finally stopped. Oh, the things that we do for love, she thought to herself. She continued to rub the cream into her butt, and the sensation proved to be most pleasurable. She got over the cold sting, and felt quite good as she rubbed the stuff in, very slowly, taking time to make sure that the particularly savaged areas were the ones that got the most immediate attention, there really wasn't anything that she could do about the bruises, but at least the marks that stood out on the skin surface could be dealt with, and once the stuff got into the skin, she reasoned, it sure would do some kind of good.
The cold cream was turning her on. It wasn't just the shivers, it was actually managing to stimulate her in some other which she didn't really understand, never having felt it before. Maybe it was just the feeling of being naked, and alone, and still vulnerable to the feelings that had been aroused the night before.
Or maybe it was something far more meaningful than any of that. Maybe it was what she had been feeling the night before, that she was reaching a state of true sexual knowledge, that she had now reached a level where she was never going to return to the cold ignorance of the past she had hated.
She had often observed something in other women she would see on the street that she had desired and wanted to have as one of her own qualities. It was a sense of being sexy, of carrying your sex around with you as easily as you carried your purse, as easily as you wore your sweater or your dress. There was something about chicks who had this elusive quality that Janet had always envied. It went beyond merely being pretty, or even the clothes that you wore. Many beautiful woman, gorgeously dressed, did not possess this, many fashion models that she saw in the magazines that she slavishly purchased and read every month. It was just a case of knowing who you were, what you were about, what you wanted, and why and why you liked all of this. These women knew these things. They knew what they liked, and they had no apologies for ii. They were able to see something that they liked, and could go out and get it, regardless of what it was. She had seen some women at parties pick out an impossibly attractive and sexy man, and manage to monopolize him for the entire evening. She had seen some women decide that they wanted a particular job and just go out and come back with it very shortly afterwards. And anyone who did this seemed to have solved the problems that plagued most of the world, and hung it up with equivocations and doubts.
Was she now this type of woman? She had been close, she thought, pretty much always able to get the things for herself that she wanted. She had, after all, gotten Phil that way. But now she was sure that there had been one last barrier that she had had to overstep, and now she was finally past it. She had finally managed to become a sexy woman, one with no guilt, no hang-ups.
There was really only one thing that she wanted out of life now. It wasn't a job, though that might surely come later on in life, and it wasn't clothes, and it wasn't anything material. What she wanted, was to cure that which ailed her husband. It wasn't that she wanted the bondage and sadism to stop. Far from it. She was delighted that this particular phase of human sexuality had been suddenly opened to her. She wanted him to get to the point where he could do that, screw her, do damn well anything that he wanted to do, and be able to look at himself in the mirror when he woke up without feeling a sense of total revulsion. She wanted him to see that what he wanted, what he did to her, was in no way incompatible with the type of person that he would like to think of himself as. He didn't have to hate himself, didn't have to think of it as an illness that had to be taken care of. She wanted him to see that it was a perfectly natural expression of love between two people who cared for each other, and thought the world of each other.
She felt a sense of omnipotence that was even more welcome for the fact that it was totally unlike any feeling that she had ever felt about herself. She would succeed, of this she was sure. She would succeed in this, and get absolutely everything that she wanted out of life. After all, was she now not a sexy woman, capable of anything and everything?
She finally finished rubbing the cold cream into her hindquarters, and put the cold cream back in the bathroom. She had swigged down quite a bit of coffee already that morning, but she was feeling rather sleepy in spite of it. She yawned rather violently, and decided that since she was going to be a shut in all day anyway, she might as well just skip the shit that was on television and take a few hours for a catnap. She went into the bedroom, and curled up under the covers, drawing them up over her head, and burrowing into the pillows.
She set the alarm for three. It was ten-thirty, so that would give her four and one half hours to regenerate her body and be able to meet the world with all kinds of vim and vigor. In the meantime, she fell into peaceful, blissful, lovely sleep.
She drifted off into a very deep and distant sleep. She seemed to herself to be very far away from the mundane cares of the world and she started to have visions. They were very grand, very enticing, and utterly delightful. She saw all kinds of colored lights, and they drifted and swirled like the Northern Lights, which she had never seen, but which she had always dreamed about when she was a girl.
This soon passed, and she found herself having the more concrete sort of dream, the standard kind, with people, incidents, and faces. There were a few from her past. She saw her mother and her father, standing about the kitchen, not doing much. She had looked extremely surprised at this, and pointed over to Janet, who was watching this at the far end of the room, an adult now, even though they both appeared as when they were still both alive and she was about eight years old. The two of them then looked at her, smiled, and ran off to the bedroom, a rather pointless thing to do since this was a house with see-through walls. A glass house, apparently. They got into the bedroom, and her father, impatient to get it into her mother, ripped her clothes off and threw the shreds into a pile in the corner.
She was naked, and her father began going through the motions of dominating her. She was forced onto the floor, made to kiss his feet, and all the rest of it, except that there was one important difference. Her father used nothing to beat her. He only went through the motions of swinging his arm over his head, and bringing it down on her, but there was nothing in his big hands to hit her with. There was no contact with the flesh, and no sounds of either something smacking against her flesh, or screaming. Nothing at all but the gestures.
After a few minutes of this, he made her mother stand up, and bend over at the waist, inserting his rather limp cock into her. They again went through the motions of the act without actually arousing any passion, just making all of the proper movements, and then, when he had apparently come, he pulled out of her immediately. All of his sperm immediately ran down her leg onto the floor. Then they got into bed and laid there for about ten minutes, got up, and got back into their clothing. They walked out into the kitchen, and resumed their chores as if nothing had happened.
This very odd dream soon gave way to another one. She was being kept after school by her teacher for not having done her homework. He was Mr. Simpson, a rather good looking math teacher that she had had in the eighth grade. He expressed his anger calling her a string of dirty names, something that the real Mr. Simpson had never done, and would especially never have done to her, as she had done quite well in his class, mostly because she had had a tremendous crush on him. After abusing her verbally, he ordered her to bend out over the teacher's desk. He then lifted her skirt over her head, and slowly removed the panties as well She stayed there, having a pretty good idea of what was going to happen at this point, but hoping against hope that it wouldn't. Her mother had often warned her about men who raped young girls, and now it was going to happen to her right in the school.
But it didn't. Instead, she felt the sharp crack of a ruler across her young bottom. She thought that she was imagining things, but no, it came down hard. She yelped with the pain that this was causing. She cried out for someone to help, but instead everyone just walked right by the window, oblivious to what was happening, and not even seeming to hear her, although they were clearly nearby, and you would think that anyone that close to her would hear her screaming.
And then she realized that she herself didn't hear her screaming. She was yelling as loud as she could, her mouth was wide open, and there was no sound coming out of it. The only thing that she could hear was the sound of Mr. Simpson's ruler smacking the smooth skin on her ass, filling her with a sense of total degradation and shame.
Her little backside grew warmer, and the warmth spread all over and then it shot down her legs and up her back. Suddenly, she was laughing. She was delighted. The smacks on her bottom weren't painful, they were wonderful, and she squirmed around not trying to avoid them, but trying to get her buttocks in the position where they would meet the force of the ruler full on, and receive the most from each swat. She giggled furiously, barely able to stand the wonderful sensations that welled up in her ass and then flooded out through the rest of her.
She started to come, and now she could hear her own desperate pants and sighs as her rate of breath struggled desperately to keep pace with the demands the body was placing on it. She was feeling for the first time in her life what it was to reach a climax. She knew in real life what it was, of course, but in the dream she was a little girl being spanked who never experienced anything like an orgasm but who nonetheless knew exactly what it was. She grabbed onto the sides of the table, and let out a deep, subhuman moan that came from the very pit of her lungs. She was totally enraptured with what was happening to her, and she felt a terrible sense of loss when the beating stopped.
Mr. Simpson left without any further words to her. She didn't even see him go. She stayed clutching the edges of the desk, and felt her small, still immature tits crush against the desk beneath her.
The most intense part of the orgasm was done now, but she still felt the warm afterglow surge through her veins. She got off the desk. There was not any reason for her to stay, but she wanted to. She sat in one of the classroom chairs, not putting herself back together. She left the panties on the floor, and kept the skirt above her head as she sat back down on the chair. The chair gave her a funny feeling. It was kind of cold, and this sent a shiver of excitement up her cunt. She wiggled about, centering herself right on her cunt, and squirmed there, feeling the pleasant sensations run through her body. She reached down and touched herself between the legs, feeling the sticky moisture, and manipulated the little strip of flesh her mother had once pointed out to her as her clitoris, the female equivalent of the penis.
She was feeling really delighted with herself and she rushed up out of the chair quite suddenly. She ripped off her clothes. She began doing a dance in the middle of the floor. She jumped and skipped about, and without even noticing they had turned on the P. A. system. It was loud rock music, the kind that she had really liked back in those days. She jumped about trying to imitate all of the cheerleaders she had ever seen on television, including the moves that she had so frequently seen on the cultural programming that her mother was constantly trying to get her to watch.
She was now conscious of people watching her. She could see some of the school janitors, some of her fellow pupils, and some of their parents. They watched her with genuine interest. They weren't voyeurs but interested in the dance that she was performing, in the acrobatic skill she showed. She performed up into a real frenzy now, jumping around with wild abandon. She wanted to build up to something that was really going to give all of the people watching her a tremendous thrill, and she did a series of spins and turns that came to an almost complete halt, and then threw herself up and came down in a superb imitation of the dying swan that she had seen on television in some famous ballet she couldn't remember.
The crowd applauded ecstatically, and even the school bells joined in the applause as the naked Janet took her bows. The bells then drown out the noise of the applause and bravos, and she had to plug up her ears. The rings faded into the rings of her alarm clock ...
She woke up shut off the alarm, and stumbled into the bathroom.
CHAPTER SIX
She relieved herself, and then ran the water for a hot bath. She had, before the last several days, usually just contented herself with showers, but she was beginning to learn the reason that so many women took baths. It was a useful way of easing tension, and putting one in touch with one's body. It stimulated the nerves, allowed the muscle fiber to stretch out, and gave the body an invigorating wash and soak in an atmosphere of total warmth and comfort that was not unlike the womb. You could let your entire body, save for the head, experience nothing but this embryonic state of suspension, for the body did tend to float, and let all the worries that tended to crimp up one's body float away with the tension.
Her bottom was still quite sore, and the heat would do nothing to harm that situation. Sitting in the tub was not really the comfort that it normally was, so Janet had to keep most of her body underwater most of the time so that the backside didn't have to absorb most of the body weight at the bottom of the tub. This was not all that unpleasant a thing to do, for it kept most of her under the magic spell of the water for a longer period of time, and she relaxed herself so that her pores would open and spill their guts. The rising steam from the water filled her nostrils with soothing heat, and she thought about all that had been going on. There was hope because Phil knew now there was a problem, and was not only willing but eager to eradicate it. He would get some hints from the psychiatrist that afternoon, and then they would have to go from there. Everything went back, ultimately, to his parents and their way of rearing the family. All of their offspring had turned out with very serious problems. Somehow, Phil had managed to at least make a decent life for himself. He was still at least maintaining a certain contact with his family. The others were no doubt never going to have anything to do with their parents, and while that wasn't necessarily a bad thing for them, it had to leave a certain hole in their lives that could not be otherwise filled.
She also marveled at how this incident had enabled her to come to terms with several things in her own past that hadn't been tearing through her like Philip's troubles had. But nonetheless had kept her from attaining several things that now seemed to be so near and real. She had long ago given up the thought that she would ever feel in command of the elements of her life, but she now was sure that she would be able to. And she couldn't get over how clearly the experience was loosening all of these things from the dark recesses of her mind.
The dreams that she had experienced during her catnap had left a profound effect on her. The colored lights that had begun the series of dreams had obviously been the scenery that one encounters when going on a journey inside the mind. Once there, things began to happen that were more like what one goes through during life, but just strange and flowing on, to make one realize that one is asleep, and having fantasies.
And what fantasies she had had! The one about her parents had been spooky, though in an affectionate way. She had been long out of the nest, and put their deaths behind her. There was no point in mourning, and her life had turned to be okay. She could look at them as people that she loved and missed, but she had long since cried her last tears about them.
They had never been terribly affectionate when she was young. They had not kissed each other very much in front of her, and didn't put their arms around each other either. Mother and father had both lavished their affection toward her, but not unto each other. That was strange, because they had always seemed to like each other, and her mother had never gone out and tried to find another husband. They had been left a pretty good insurance settlement, and were able to live a life of relative ease.
So she had always assumed that they had done it in private when she had thought about it years later, and just to have children, and she had been the only one. That was why they had smiled at her in the dream, she thought, because they had suddenly decided to have a baby, and since that baby was now a grown woman watching them in her dream, they had naturally turned their attention to her, and smiled thinking about how nice she was going to eventually be. This was just the way that she thought about it, a thought that she hadn't touched in a long time, and had just stored away in some part of the mind where memory was inactive.
The dream with Mr. Simpson was another matter, very strange, and not terribly accessible, but she decided that she would try to get to the meaning of that one. Her being kept after school was definitely the fulfillment of an adolescent fantasy of having the teacher she had a crush on give her some extra attention. The spanking fantasy was different to interpret, and she now also remembered that at first she had thought she was going to be raped. Okay, that was obvious enough. She expected that the rape, which would be intercourse, was something that also carried the element of having something done to her that she was powerless to prevent. That was how the crush worked. She wanted to have sex with him at that time, although she wouldn't have been able to handle that. Therefore, she had only craved attention, but at the same time knew in the back of her mind that what she really wanted was the joy of intercourse, that she was simply too young to appreciate, But the rest of it puzzled her. She had ended up getting spanked instead. She hadn't expected that, and although she had enjoyed it, as she now also had accidentally discovered, she couldn't figure out what that was doing in the dream.
Suddenly, it heard her. The force of the idea seemed to strike her with such power that she imagined that a thunderbolt had shot out of the sky and nailed her right in the bathtub.
It was all so easy that she had been overlooking it, and couldn't believe now that she had been unable to see it in the first place. What all of that meant was exactly what had just happened to her now. She had, without expecting to, and after having anticipated the same thing as that dream, made the same finding. She liked bondage. She had been expecting intercourse in the dream as the fulfillment of a dormant, long forgotten fantasy. She had this time been expecting her husband's fucking her well as the thing that would truly give her physical satisfaction. But her ass had been bared and spanked, after she had received much in the way of verbal abuse. She had found that she had liked the ass whipping, and had even gone so far as to attain in both cases the finest orgasm that she had ever had. At the end of the dream, she had felt so free that she had done that performance, and made everyone marvel at her skill and beauty. Now, she felt she had made the breakthrough that would grant her the things that she had always most wanted to be as a woman.
She was truly stunned by the way she had been able to divine this. She thought to herself now that it was a true pity that she had never been able to go on to college. At the waiting job, she had never been exposed much to people who would be considered to "be intellectually inclined. She had never been in the habit of thinking herself bright, and the only thing that she had looked for in coming out of high school had been to make the largest amount of money that she could in the shortest period of time. The jobs she had taken had been varied and short. She had learned to work a switchboard, had been able to become a good typist, and had managed to pick up a little stenography in the bargain. So she had managed to do alright for herself, and she was in a good position. She had met Phil, and had married him, a situation that now was looking as rosy as it had just a few months before. But she had never really become the full human being that she had wanted to become.
I'm young, she thought to herself. There's any reason that I can't go to school. I can register for the coming semester, and go either full or part time. I can take the time out to have a child or two. At that point, I can skip a few months, or arrange to have the baby over the summer, and register for night school. Phil would gladly come home after work and mind the baby while I go to classes. He brings home a good bit of work anyway, and I won't end up being in his way. I can be home in time to spend an hour or two with him before going off to sleep, and then the weekends and summers will still be ours. Live up to her potential. Maybe she had simply denied herself too long, and kept too much of her potential sealed off in an area isolated from the rest of her where it would remain unused. While it would be untapped, it would also not frustrate her. She had done it out of the conviction that her life was destined to go in a certain path, and that there was nothing that she could do to change that. She had shut off those areas so as not to feel that she had been cheated out of something in life, and tear herself apart with no good reason.
But now things were different. Now she could once more start to move out and seek new challenges, knowing that she would still have the comfort of being cared for. No longer was this a one woman show that had to depend only on her resources to see her through. Now, ironically, that she had committed the rest of her life to someone, she had the independence to fulfill those sleeping talents that now loomed so large.
It was also ironic that the thing that had finally given her the charge of her life that she had so craved was this horrible problem of Phil's. The means to her liberation had been in the subjugation to her husband, and that had only become a possibility thanks to the neurosis that Phil had suffered with these many long years. How strange life was, what odd turns it took. How often one achieved something by allowing oneself to be swept along by its precise opposite.
Well, she thought to herself, if I can overcome these things that have been with me all these years, then so can Philip. She knew that it was going to be much more difficult in his case. The problem was much more severe. The problem went much deeper, and it had been more strongly reinforced. It would be a not too short process, it was liable to cause much pain, and they might not ever succeed in completely wiping it out. But they were going to try. He had given her the wherewithal to tackle her problems, and she would now give him the wherewithal to tackle his.
The water had succeeded in cleansing her, in relaxing her, and also she came to realize, in helping her to get down to some serious thought about some heavy problems. She was sure that the solutions would be reached. They were going to be each other's salvation. They were going to open the doors to a new life for the other. They would give each other entry to all kinds of possibilities that they would not be able to reach without the help of the other. They would each overcome their hang-ups and troubles, eradicate them, and prevent them from being passed on to a new generation of impressionable youngsters, their own eventual brood.
As she thought of all of this, she also reasoned that the condition of one's body had a tremendous effect upon both the mental makeup and the psyche. A tight, constricted body didn't have any outlet for the problems that the muscles held in. The problems therefore stayed in the body where they festered and made life miserable, like a germ that spreads into a major infection. She suddenly realized that the physical exercise that she got had left her body just a little too sore, just a little too tight. These frequent baths were helping to clear up that situation. It had been years since she had done any kind of dance exercises. She would begin doing those again, perhaps even attending some yoga classes.
In fact, she thought, they could join an exercise club together, and swim their troubles away. Phil definitely needed to loosen up. He was in fine health, and his body was well shaped, if hardly muscular. He could use the loosening up process as well. It would allow the nerves to stimulate those areas of the brain that had locked in his unpleasant memories.
It was now getting near to five o'clock. She decided that she was going to go out for a walk. The weather was warm outside. It was the middle of May now, and the weather had turned nice about a month before. There had been a decent amount of rain, but the past two weeks had helped to clear things up, and the weather had been a consistently nice reminder of what remained ahead in the coming months.
She couldn't wait to go to the beach, she thought to herself. What would really be ideal should be to go to some deserted section of the ocean front where there would be no one likely to come by and disturb them. They could go to one of the public beaches along the smooth, sandy ocean front, and walk for a couple of miles to a place where no one came by. There, they could make themselves comfortable, and strip all of their clothes off. They could take some sun tan oil, and give each other the kinds of massages that you dare only attempt in the seclusion of the bedroom. She would do him first. She would sit astride his naked ass. She would feel the massiveness of his toasting buttocks beneath her pussy. She would most likely be situated so that her slit was over the crack in his ass cheeks. She would take a stick of cocoa butter, and begin to spread it over his back and shoulders. The sun would hit the butter, and also warm his skin up so that the butter simply melted into him. She would then work her hands into his back, and knead the rippling flesh around his shoulder blades and neck. She would work her way all down his sides, taking care not to induce a tickling jag that might cause him to tense up again, and run the hands simultaneously up and down each side of the spine.
Then, once that was done, she could concentrate on the core of his personage, the spine. The spine, she knew, being the core of the central nervous system, more or less affected the entire body, since the nerves that ran up and down it reached through every part of the human anatomy. She would begin with just making him aware of the nerves. She would run her fingers up and down the spine. She knew that he was very sensitive on this count. At first her fingers would barely tickle him. Then, once getting past that phase, she would do it very quickly. This always made him jump, and would probably serve as an aphrodisiac. Then she would touch the spine, placing her fingers along it so that the four fingertips were directly against it, and push down with an easy, gradual pressure. She would do this until she reached the bottom, and then would come back up to the top.
From this point on would begin the heavy duty work. She would have to get off him for this, and as she climbed off, she would give him a quick slap to revive him generally throughout the body. Then once this was done, she would kneel at his side and begin the final release treatment.
She had had this demonstrated for her one night by a man that she had dated for several week shortly after getting out of business school. She had subsequently shown the technique to other lovers, and they had attested to its extreme effectiveness. She would bend her arms at the elbows, and then stick them into his back. She would then push down, rubbing the both elbows in little circles up and down the spine. This was inevitably something that went a long way towards loosening the spine up. The most effective part of it was to take one elbow, and plant it firmly at the base of the spine. When it was there, and its presence felt, push just a little harder than normal, and do the rotational motion. This always managed to send intense waves of pleasure up the entire spine and outward through the various nerve endings, tingling every portion of the skin that they touched, every muscle, every organ in the body. With only one arm occupied with this, the next thing was to run one of the spare fingers up and down the spine very quickly, inducing the same kind of intense pleasure that hopeful had aroused him to erection before.
After this, the best thing was to simply repeat the entire process, end it with the base of the spine treatment, and then briskly rub the entire surface of the back, taking care to rub the muscles underneath, and flip him over to coat his front with the creamy butter. One especially nice thing about doing it here was that one was able to ride the resulting erection while buttering up the chest. This they would certainly do, providing of course that there was no one else around who was not engaged in the same activity.
Janet suddenly realized that a small cloudburst was coming by, and as it blotted out the sun, she felt several small raindrops begin to fall. She began to walk toward home, and as she got nearer, the quick shower began to increase in intensity. It never got to the point where she stood a risk of getting drenched, but she quickened her pace slightly, and arrived home at about the same time that the rain more or less ceased. She stood outside and allowed the last drops to fall on her. She found much fun in this. It was, she decided, very symbolic. Here she was, throwing away the last vestiges of her past troubles, plotting the ridding of similar problems in her husband, and the rains of heaven came down upon her, washing her clean. She suddenly realized that she was not carrying the symbolism out to the furthest extent. She ran to the back yard, and stripped off her clothing. It was starting to come down just a little bit more heavily once more, and she danced about in the large back yard, letting the water soak her completely and turn her into a new person. She was soaked head to foot, and the rain stopped again. She was ecstatic. She felt remarkably refreshed. The water from the sky had left her feeling cleaner and purer than she could remember feeling in a long time. This was a sign from heaven, she thought to herself, a sign from God or from the gods that what they had decided upon was blessed and holy, something that would change the course of their lives for the better.
She picked up her rather soaked clothes, and opened up the back door, walking inside. Just as she did, she heard Phil come up the driveway. She took her clothes to the bathroom, toweled herself off as he put the car into the garage, and vigorously frisked her dripping hair as she heard him open the front door.
CHAPTER SEVEN
She went about getting dinner ready. Phil hadn't looked unhappy when he came in the door, but he was at the same time very quiet. Something had very obviously gone on. He hadn't been displeased with the results, if she was any judge of the expression on his face, but he didn't seem eager to just launch into a story of whatever it was that had happened. She didn't pressure him. He just told her that he was going to take a long bath, and that he would soon be down to eat dinner.
She put up the steaks that she had been saving for a special occasion. She hadn't bothered to shop that afternoon, and she figured that this new life that she sensed beginning was quite enough to celebrate. There would be no champagne this night, but there was a six-pack of imported beer that they had never gotten around to consuming. That would certainly go very well with the steak. She prepared some vegetables, and then threw together a very fast salad.
He came down about an hour later. "I fell asleep in the tub," he said sheepishly. "I just felt so relaxed and comfortable, and the hot water let the muscles that run all down my backside and into my heels go into total relaxation. It was a fantastic feeling, and my whole body just fell into a state of complete comfort. It was a little scary. I'm beginning to realize that I'm really a pretty tense guy, and this has a real effect on me, that it effects things that I never even think about. It's awfully revealing."
"I'd been thinking the same thing," she told him. "It had occurred to me today that a lot of the same things that are happening to me right now are making it easier for me to understand things about my past that bothered me without my being aware that anything was bothering me."
She related the story of her dream, and the way that she had figured out the puzzle of what had happened to her in her life. He listened in silence, indicating every now and then that he understood precisely what she was talking about.
"And what the upshot of all of that is, is that I feel as though I'm reaching this very blissful level of contentment that is going to help me in reaching the goals that I can see as being real, and that the same thing is going to happen for you. I feel a definite sense of power starting to build in me, and it's going to sweep up both of us I think, to the point that we won't just conquer our problems, we'll obliterate them, and make them fade out of existence entirely."
"It's interesting to hear you say all of that," he told her. "I had an extremely informative session with my analyst this afternoon. He told me not to worry, just like you said he would. He told me that this was a very common thing that he saw people feel guilty about all the time, and that as long as it was not done to excess, and permanently damaging, there was nothing wrong. That makes me fear it a lot less, and he told me that this will also help me to become a more carefree kind of lover."
"How so?" Janet asked.
"Well, you see, I fear the act of whipping you so much that when I say to myself that I can't screw you unless I do that first, it puts more pressure on me to perform, and that it therefore makes me more likely to be impotent. So that now that I don't see it as such a horrible thing, I won't have that sort of pressure on me. Which is nice, because otherwise I thing that I would definitely do you some real injury if I had to beat you before every incident of intercourse."
"Yeah," she said, "I'm really happy that that won't be happening every night."
"But he said that the matter of sex being something that was dirty was something that I could only resolve by confronting my parents with it. That really won't be easy. You see, we're going to have to go there, and just lay all our cards out on the table. The doctor said that if we do that, and the desired effects come about, we could take a short cut in the treatment, and not have to stick with it for the long, hard treatments and slow passage of years that it might take before I could purge myself or those feelings forever. One thing that he added though, was that the incidences of success, considerable though they were when these meetings take place, is by no means guaranteed, and that we might end up severing relations with my family completely."
"How do you feel about that," she asked.
"Well, I don't want to cut off from my folks. I'd thought about doing that, like the others in my family did, but it's come to the point where I can see that if that's the way it has to be, then so be it. I've suffered too long because of what they did to me, and if the only way I can clear this up is by confronting them with it, then that's what I'm going to do. It's the only way."
What Janet was hearing was music to her ears. There was going to be no turning away from the dangers before them, and all would be taken care of in the process. An enormous surge of affection and tenderness for her husband rocketed through her body. She was more in love with him now that she had even been at anytime in the past two days. Was it only two days? It seemed more like an eon since they had been separated by a thin, psychological wall.
"Darling," she said to him. "I love you so much. I love you to the very depth of my soul. You are the passion of my life, and I cannot possibly explain any further what you mean to me. My heart is that full of love for you. Wherever we may end up on the road of life, I want to know that you will always be there beside me come what may. We may be the partners that together find true salvation."
"Janet," he said to her, "I can't measure the full extent of my love for you either. I shall always love you. Don't ever think, please, that something cannot happen between us, something good, and pure and true."
"I promise, darling, because you have shown to me that it can. We shall always be together, we shall always strive to give each other that which is best in us to give."
"Then consume me, darling," Phil said to her, "consume me with the flames of your love."
"Phil," she said, half teasing him, "I never knew that you were a poet."
He laughed at this humorous jest. "Yes, I used to write quite a lot of verse in college. Terrible stuff, I ended up throwing most of it out."
He hugged her tightly, kissing her passionately, driving his tongue far into her mouth. His hands ran down her back, and came to rest on the protruding buttocks, which he handled with consummate grace and ease. He was incredibly tender at this point, she thought to herself. She felt the shivers again, but nothing that could be called pain was the result of his gentle handwork. She jumped and twitched, but the end result was the same, he just moved his hands and grabbed her again, applying his hands with expert skill. She was feeling so open to him now. She whispered sweet little nothings in his ear, and then they broke their clinch so that they could begin their dinner.
They once more didn't speak much during dinner. They communicated mostly with their hands now, and it seemed to be a much better way to manage things than the other methods, that were previously ineffective.
They ate rather greedily this time, and when Janet attempted some of the orgiastic eating habits that she had the evening before this. Phil laughed at her, and then began, timidly of course, to do the same things himself. He didn't manage them very well, but she was so pleased to see them that she smiled and laughed heartily, without any need to force things.
There was something that was on her mind. She had been hesitant about bringing it up for the usual reason. She didn't want to take the chance of hurting his feelings. But something in her said that it might end up being alright. Something inside her saw him begin to chew his food as though it was giving him an erection and said that this man, whether he realizes it or not, is coming to terms with himself, and finding a genuine sense of inner peace. This was encouraging in and of itself, but it now gave her the courage to ask what to Janet was the acid test. Could, would he make love to her without employing the tactics of the past couple of sex sessions.
"Darling Phil," she began, "I have something that I must ask you. I want to preface it by saying that I think you have arrived at the point where it will not bother you to speak openly of these things. Will you be able to make love to me tonight without whipping me?"
The evenness, and calm surety of his tone surprised her. "Yes. You see, there is another channel for the energy to be released. I hadn't done just this the last couple of days because I felt so much pressure being released that I knew it had better come out in an explosion, otherwise, look out. So I just laid into you with the worst things I could think of. No, generally I'm more into the bondage, the tying you up and forcing you into a position that is kind of degrading. That is enough for me most times, and that's the kind of things that we'll do for the next few days, or the next week, until that little ass of yours is all better."
"That sounds really nice," Janet said, relieved that she could get bonded, and still not have to receive that lambasting on her behind.
"I usually don't make a habit of getting into beatings that heavily anyway. You see," he said, "I really am rather experienced at this sort of thing. I only gave you a small idea of just how into it I am. I used to go to this one woman quite often. I've been making a hell of a salary the past few years, and sometimes I was able to go to her two or three times a week. It seemed to help my performance in the courtroom too, made me more aggressive. It got like a drug. The night before a big trial, I would be really nervous, so I would go to this chick, really whale the tar out of her ass, and then the next day in court, I would be a real tiger, and rip apart witnesses the way that some people tear up paper."
"Darling, I wouldn't mind that happening either. That would be wonderful, on occasion, but right now I'm sick of all this talk. I just want to go up to that bedroom and have the time of my life. Let's go. I hope you have plenty of rope."
"Don't worry," he said, "you're going to get the screwing of your life. You're about to have demonstrated, very graphically, just what all you women are about when it comes to your dealings with men. "
"Take me Phil," she said, "take me and show me what life is all about."
Phil took Janet up into the bedroom. He tied her, face up, spread-eagle to the bed. He applied the gag to her, this time a piece of cloth that he tied around her mouth. He then went into a drawer in his bureau, and removed a couple of clothespins. He walked up to her, and ran his hand up and down her body.
"I went out today and I got these because I knew that we were going to be playing some kind of game tonight, so I wanted to make sure that we had the proper toys. These are going to be clipped to various parts of your anatomy, my dear. They are not going to be the cause of much pain, have no worry about that. There are games of that sort that we may get into at some later date but for now we will just pretend that they don't exist." He sat down next to her, and continued the erotic massage, slipping his hand down into her panties, and playing with her little bush. He went further now, putting his middle finger in the spot where her pussy lips stood, and let it sit there for a time.
"Every slave must know the importance of being a mere plaything something that her master will on occasion simply take and abuse as the mood fits him. There are several types of abuse, and this is one of them. The whipping leaves marks eventually, and as long as this is done as carefully, there is not anything of that kind with this practice." He pulled her panties down a bit below her knees. She could feel them stretch out and trap her legs just a little bit more, serving to make the hold of the ropes even tighter than it already was.
"I am now going to introduce you to the world of nipple and clitoris torture. I think that you certainly will find this practice to be much to your liking, and that you will find the fact that the pain is there while the marks are not to be a nice little sidelight." With that, he bent down, and kissed her nipples, taking a few minutes to lick them and thrust them into his mouth, applying those teeth of his to stimulate them just a little bit further. Janet rocked back and forth, squirming deliciously under the strain of the ropes, and the sensations that her husband's delicate foreplay was causing to come to pass.
He did this for several minutes. Then he took the clothespins, and affixed them to her nipples. Janet gritted her teeth. This new sensation sent ripples of pain through her breasts. They seemed a very physical presence, as though he were holding one of the nipples in the tips of his fingers and was shaking it so that the whole tit bounced around. She found this to be terribly arousing.
Now that both of her tits were properly secured, he applied his hands to the cunt, opening it up so that the clitoris stood out in the proper fashion. Once this was done, he took the other clothespin that he had removed from the drawer, and applied it to the clit. He pinched the area so that the appropriate bit of flesh would stand out, and then he clipped it to her. She jumped about for a little longer when this was done to her, and she groaned as best as she could under the smothering power of the strip of cloth that forced open her mouth.
She writhed helplessly about, and Philip, there not being much need for him to do anything but watch and grin, stood up and removed some of his clothing. She would eventually find a position where she would not be in such pain, but until that time when her body made it to the new sensations, he was just going to wander about and make himself happy.
He went into the bathroom, and simply made a point of washing his face, taking a nice long time to do it to drag out her anticipation, and the inactive tortures that the pressure of the clothespins provided. He finished with this act, and then went back in, sitting at her side.
He ran his hands over her, and gave her breasts a few nice big squeezes, this caused them to swell up, and put even more pressure against them as the full sacs were now practically bursting against the spring-held pins. He stopped this practice after figuring that he had achieved the desired effect, and just sat back, watching her re-acquaint herself to the old position.
He had given her a good long time to do this when he suddenly put his hand up to the top of the clothespin, and flicked at the top of it with his index finger. This naturally caused it to wiggle considerably, and the sensations once again took off from Canaveral and shot through her once more. She again went through the rocking motion that had been her lot for the past several minutes, and began simultaneously shouting, shouts that were blanketed by the mouth restraint that she wore, without any hesitation, he did this to both of the tits, and then to the pin that pinched her tender little love button in a warming embrace of pain.
He held onto the tit pins at the same time and shook them. Her breasts wiggled like not quite hardened gelatin, and when he would stop that, the pussy pin was manipulated in the same way. He would also do the cunt and one of the tits, and she found herself back in the same situation she was finding so much to her liking. She was falling into the pit of possession, and there was nothing that she could do to stop herself. She fell into it by being gradually lifted and tilted, as though she were staring into the pit of a volcano. She finally tilted too far, and when she closed her eyes, she literally felt herself falling, splashing into a pool of molten lava desire.
Phil decided that she had had enough. He took off the gag and had her fellate him to full staff. Then he removed the pins, and got on top of her. He entered her, and the pinched portals of her pussy slid open to accommodate him. She felt the layers of flesh inside her cleave apart as his prick drove further and further into the tunnel of love. He pushed against her, covering her whole body with his, grabbing at her bound wrists, feeling her hands squirm helplessly as they jutted out from the ropes that held her in bondage.
He didn't play around fucking very much this time. He didn't have to, and didn't seem to want to. He thrust into her as far as he could manage, and just kept at her with a series of violent thrusts that had her gasping, and she came very quickly. She came, and the girl went into such violent spasms that they grabbed onto his prick with unusual force, and squeezed the climax out of him.
If an orgasm is explosive, this one blew up with megaton force. Seven Hiroshima's struck at her insides, and the mushroom cloud carried up into her cranium, carrying the debris of her intestines with it. Her molecular structure shattered, flying directly out from her, and as the surge subsided, magically re-aligned itself. She felt the heaving figure above her gasping for breath, and she reached up to kiss her critical mass maker.
He untied her and gently massaged her. They made plans for the coming weekend. They would go out to his parent's mansion. They would confront them with the truth. They would hopefully make them face up to the reality of the situation. This could end up being a very unpleasant scene. They were both aware of that. But they were going to go through with it. If they lost, life would be a little sadder, but it would at least be rid of the guilt that they had lived with so far.
They said goodnight to each other, but neither could get to sleep. They realized their mutual problem after a while, and before too long found that they were once again making love. They kept at it a long time, and this time, they managed to surpass all other occasions of love making with a pure, wonderful, and brilliant climax that seemed to rock the very foundations of the earth. Afterwards, after many protestations of love, they fell asleep in each other's arms.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Saturday was a warm but windy day, the clouds hiding the sun behind a tremendously thick blanket. Phil and Janet arose early. They said little to each other. Phil showered while Janet prepared the breakfast, and then took herself a bath after he had retired to the living room to read the paper and be alone with his thoughts. They had already decided what they were going to tell his parents. It was really going to be a very simple compendium of everything that had been bothering him the past years of his life, and warnings that as much as he loved them both, they had caused him a considerable amount of pain, and that they were going to have to talk about it in order that they might be able to solve things simply by the simple method of letting these things off of his chest, and that if they couldn't accept that, then he really could no longer consider himself to be their son. This was simple and this was direct. It was fraught with danger, but seemed to be the only choice that they had. They hoped that it would not fail.
Phil had always enjoyed the way in which he had spent his boyhood days. His parents lived on something that had to be called an estate. It had several acres of woodland, and a large swimming pool in a secluded corner of the backyard. It was in a very exclusive area of the town, and could only be reached by a long journey down some twisting private roads. The one public one that they all branched off of had several estates that were right nearby. These were the ones that Phil knew best. Back in the distance, beyond the sight lines that were available as you passed by, were the truly massive estates, where the really rich people lived.
"It's really kind of funny," Phil stated. "There off in the distance are people who are really rich, millionaires, and down here by the road, you have their lawyers and family doctors. It's very natural. It isn't a class thing, it's just that all of the really wealthy and powerful people in town live around here, and they are always turning their lawyers and physicians on to these smaller pieces of property down here by the road. Moreover, my father bought this piece of property from a newspaper publisher that he was representing one time. The guy liked dad so much that he introduced him to this friend who ran another, more prestigious law firm, and then, as a result of his increased income, dad happened to ask about buying some property, and it just so happened that this guy was looking for some spare cash to invest somewhere, and had decided to set off about twelve acres that my father snapped up and built this house on."
Janet was quite silent throughout the trip. And she just held Phil's hand to let him know that she trusted him. He felt really nervous, something that she could discern simply by holding his hand and squeezing it tightly.
They arrived at his parent's house. They were friendly, but rather cordial all the same. They had sensed when Phil had phoned and told them that he wanted to talk to them that something was going to happen, and they seemed to be biding time, waiting for the expected explosion to occur.
Phil didn't waste much time. They received some cocktails, served by a butler, and Phil got down to brass tacks immediately. He told his parents why they had come and what was and had been on his mind the whole time. They listened in silence. For the longest time the room heard the sound only of Phil's voice. No one else as much as coughed. Everyone merely waited for him to complete what he had to say, and then when he had finished, Phil's parents looked down at the floor in guilty silence. They remained in that position, not saying a word for a very lengthy period of time
"Very well," he stated, after too much dead time had elapsed, "I've said my piece, and I want some kind of reaction. You must have something to say. I've just told you that the way you behaved as parents was disgraceful, and that all the problems that your three children have had can be traced to you. You must have some kind of comment to make on that, and if you don't have anything to say, then I think it would be better if we just never had anything to do with each other, because I really resent the way that I've been treated through my life by you."
He was getting a little carried away with his monologue.
"Darling, why don't we show them what we mean? Phil has already said that he's witnessed this, and besides, I don't think that Janet would have any objection to it either. This may be the last barrier that we have to break through. We still do suffer from a certain sadness concerning the way that things have turned out for ourselves and the kids, and this will rid us of the ghost of that forever."
It only took the elder Mrs. Reed a few minutes to overcome her objections. Mr. Reed let down a suspension system from the ceiling, and bound and gagged his wife, who stripped herself nude. She was a surprisingly attractive women for her age, and she opened a cabinet that contained various whips, dildoes and other objects of discipline. She picked up a riding crop, and brought it over to her son.
"I know that there were many times that I beat you unjustly, and I will not be able to come to terms with that until you even the score. I want you to whip my naked buttocks. Spare me nothing. I am truly sorry for what I have done, and eagerly await the punishment that my behavior has warranted."
With that, she bent over a footstool, and Phil began to whip his mother's bare ass as she had directed. He lashed her wickedly from the first, tattooing her bottom until it was crimson. In the meantime, Mr. Reed had stripped, and instructed Janet to do the same to him with a large paddle, something that she took to with relish. She thought suddenly that Phil may eventually want a taste of what he had been giving her, and she thrilled to the prospect of carrying it out.
Mrs. Reed received her punishment from her son, and now was suspended from the ceiling by her husband. He used several varieties of whips on her ass and back, causing her to thrash about helplessly while the leather strands met her tender skin. Philip now began beating Janet's ass, chasing his wife about as she crawled on all fours, her yelps of pain alternating with the happy laughter of a woman who knows that she had done something wonderful for these fine people. Without her as the catalyst, they never would've solved these problems, never even acknowledged to each other that they existed until it was too late.
They spent a good long while on the whipping. Phil was pretty much gentle, preferring not to take too many chances on Janet's still not healed backside. But while his mother was thrashed thoroughly, he sodomized his wife on the floor, and then subjected her to the clothes pin treatment, and sodomized her with the pins on her tits.
They hit the apex of true trust and revelation later on. Phil's father produced a double ended dildo, and inserted it in the two women as they backed their asses against each other. Then their husbands slipped their cocks into their wives' mouths, and began the process of face fucking.
Janet felt her buttocks and thighs up against those of her mother-in-law, and they moved forward and backward, increasing the penetration of the dildoes with the ebb and flow of movement, as well as the stimulation of the cocks in their mouths. Janet realized that the peaks she had reached before were only ones that gave her a view of the massive mountain ranges beyond. She looked at her happy husband in her position of service, and thought that she had achieved her goal, and pushed against her mother-in-law's ass to increase the flow of sexual energy. They were free at last, she thought, they were all free at last.
