Chapter 3

by Eric Smith

On the way home from university, Megan had dropped me off at my friend’s house so I could pick up my car. I spent some time with my friend and then proceeded home. Our neighborhood is made up of older homes that were built in the days when front porches were in vogue. When I arrived home I found mom sitting on ours. She rose to meet me and we hugged and exchanged greetings. She was a little subdued and I asked her if anything was the matter.

"Nothing’s the matter, Eric," she replied, "but there are some things we must talk about before you go in the house. Let’s sit on the porch for a bit."

Actually, she talked and I listened. I listened with ever growing amazement.

"Eric, first I want to tell you about David and me," she began. " We have what you might call an unusual relationship. It’s normal ninety percent of the time, I guess, but sometimes we do things that some people might consider… well… unusual or even perverted."

"Why are you telling me this, mom? This isn’t my affair. I don’t want to hear this," I responded.

"Be quiet and listen, Eric. This does concern you and you must listen carefully. David and I sometimes do what I guess you might call S & M but I’m not sure that’s the right phrase. Sometimes David whips me or spanks me and I allow him to do it for a lot of reasons I don’t fully understand but I suppose that they’re mostly erotic and have to do with sex. You must understand, David, that everything is one hundred percent consensual.’

"OK," I replied, "but why do I have to know about this."

"Because Megan has learned about it. She has decided to participate. She hasn’t fully realized the degree of her participation, yet, but she is going to be an active part of our so called games."

Now my mother had my attention. I must admit that when she said what she did I got a feeling inside me that wasn’t necessarily bad. I don’t know if I could have admitted it just then but I was excited about the idea of my mother, sister and David participating in a strange kind of menage de trois.

"David, do you think you can accept this?" she asked me.

‘Well, yea, I guess I can. This is strange, mom. Where’s this going?"

"David and Megan are in the kitchen," she said. "I want you to go in and see them but please do it quietly. Don’t disturb them. Then maybe you can begin to figure out where this is all going and your part in it."

Wow! I thought. With increasing excitement I entered the house. It was a warm day and the air conditioner was on so I didn’t hear the noise from inside until I opened the front door. What I heard put my heart in my throat. The sounds were something striking naked flesh and piteous sobbing. I moved quickly to the kitchen. David was standing by the kitchen table with what appeared to be a cane in his hand. Stretched over the table was my sister, stark naked and with a terribly marked bottom. She was facing away from me and wasn’t aware of my presence. David saw me, though, and put his finger to his lips. Then he told my sobbing sister that she was to receive three more strokes and that there was another person present. He delivered another blow with the cane. I could see the pain wrack through her. Her entire body shook as she sobbed. Each application of the cane had left a welt on Megan’s poor bottom. Many of them had turned blue and purple and had developed additional colorful splotches. As she sobbed she instinctively turned her hips away from David and his cane.

David stepped next to me and whispered in my ear, "You’re next." Then he handed me the cane.

What did he mean I was next? Next to beat my sister with the cane? Next to be caned? Both? I looked at him for direction and he looked at the cane I was holding and then nodded toward Megan’s bottom. That much was clear. I was to deliver the last two blows. With my heart in my throat and, I’m ashamed to admit, with my prick hard, I positioned myself to administer the cane. I drew it back as I had seen David do just a minute before and ripped the cane into Megan’s bottom. She arched her back and raised her head up with a wrenching sob. Then she laid flat on the table, shaking and sobbing uncontrollably. One of her legs bent at the knee and she raised her foot up toward her bottom as if to ward off the next blow but then, after a moment, her foot returned to the floor. The whole scene raised my sexual excitement to a fevered pitch. I don’t believe that anything is as erotically stimulating as inflicting that kind of pain on a person. Particularly when you know that the person is in the kind of agony that Megan was enduring and when you know that she is enduring it voluntarily.

I looked at David and he nodded. The last blow was mine to inflict. I was seriously afraid that I was going to cum in my pants. I did not hold back. I knew that the harder I struck my sister the greater her reaction would be. The louder she’d cry. The more her naked body would twist on the table. There was no mercy in me. I stepped into the stroke and delivered it hard to the bottom of her cheeks. I was not disappointed.

David and I stood for a couple minutes watching Megan as she sobbed and tried to regain control of herself. He stepped back toward me and took the cane and once again whispered in my ear, "Don’t forget. You’re next."

There was no doubt, now. In the very near future it was going to be my naked body that would be stretched over that table trying to gain control of my crying. And I knew I’d be crying. There is no way that I could stand that kind of torture. I was anticipating it. I was anticipating it in fear and horror and excitement. Excitement? I don’t know why. I’ll never understand why. But for some unexplainable reason I wanted my ass to look every bit as bad as my sister’s. How’s that for sibling rivalry?

Megan was beginning to regain some control and David touched my shoulder and nodded toward her head as if to say, "Why don’t you go console her."

I walked around the table and squatted down and looked in her teary eyes. Her face was ravaged and beautiful. I told her she was beautiful and I meant it. I told her I was next, thinking that might make her feel better. Then I kissed her wet cheeks and returned to David’s side. The wait for my own torture was beginning to wear on me.

Some more time passed as the two of us gazed on my suffering sister. I gazed in admiration for her and trepidation for myself. I believe that David gazed in admiration for Megan and anticipation of my fate. During this time I wondered about our mother who was, I believed, still sitting on our front porch. She evidently had some idea of what was happening in her kitchen. I supposed that she didn’t want to be part of our initiation into her way of life. Or maybe this was the way David wanted it. Just the three of us. Or four of us if you counted the cane.

Finally David instructed Megan to rise. She was wobbly at first and I went to help her. Then David took over. God, did he take over! As I stood and watched, he kissed her lightly on the lips. He began caressing her cunt. Megan ground her hips against his hand, moaning softly. She was actually rising toward an orgasm as I watched. The movement of her body hungered for it. She was unbelievably sexy. If given the chance she would have climaxed while standing naked in the middle of our kitchen floor. But she wasn’t given the chance.

"Kneel." Ordered David in his quiet voice. As he said it he pressed down gently on Megan’s shoulder. Megan lowered herself to her knees directly in front of him so that her face was even with his stomach, just above the hard bulge in his pants.

"Sit back on your heels, Megan." As she settled her abused ass on her heels I could see her wince.

"Back straight, shoulders back, tummy in," he ordered. "Fold your hands behind your head and push your elbows back."

Megan did as she was instructed. She looked beautiful. Her breasts were thrust forward and up and her nipples were hard and erect. Her face was still flushed and wet with tears but I deducted a certain pride there. Pride in her appearance and pride that she had survived her beating. I’m sure that she was aware of the fact that anytime she wanted to end her torment all she had to do was say the word, a fact had crossed my mind as I was contemplating my own torment to come.

"Spread your knees farther apart," instructed David. Megan complied. Her sex glistened with moisture. She looked toward me and her eyes locked on mine. There was a very slight smile on her lips. Then her eyes drifted down to my crotch. My cock was ready to explode. I must have turned ten shades of red. David laughed.

"This is a position that you’ll learn to know well, Megan," said David. "You, too, Eric. But we’ll talk about that later. I just wanted you to get familiar with it for now. I have a question, Megan. Of the thirteen licks of the cane that you just received do you think you could select two that were worse than the others?"

Without hesitating she replied, "The last two. You struck me harder for the final two."

"Ah. You see, Megan, I wasn’t responsible for the last two," he said.

"Then who…" Once again her eyes locked on mine and her smile was a little bit broader. She knew, as I did, that she would have her revenge.

"Well, now," said David. "I guess it’s your turn, Eric. Remove your shirt, please."

The waiting was over. Now it was my turn to suffer. I stripped off my shirt. And stood with my hands at my sides.

"Megan, crawl over and remove Eric’s shoes and socks, please."

Oh, shit, I thought. It was going to be very difficult to refrain from losing control and cuming in my pants. Somehow, just the thought of Megan kneeling at my feet, naked and sore, and serving me… Well, maybe if I thought about something else. Like having my ass beaten. Megan untied my tennis shoe and slipped it off my foot and then stripped off the sweaty sock. She repeated the maneuver with my other foot and sat back on her heals, returning her hands to the back of her head.

"You’re a fast learner, Megan. You’re made for this," said David. "Do you love your brother, Megan?"

"Yes," she replied looking up into my eyes.

"Then show him you love him by kissing his feet."

Ohshitohshitohshit! My cock was raging. I’d never make it. Megan bent over my feet and gently placed her moist lips on the top of one of them. She pressed harder and I could feel her tongue. The little vixen was trying to make me cum! She did the same to my other foot and returned to her former position. I stared off into space trying to think of anything except the current reality.

"Remove his shorts, Megan," said David.

Again she had that damn smile. She looked in my eyes as she unbuttoned my shorts, unzipped them and pulled them down to the floor where I stepped out of them. My erection was obvious. Nothing was more obvious. Megan looked at David and he nodded. She pulled down my boxers and my boner sprang loose bobbing up and down as I stepped out of my underwear. Megan sat back in her required position and gazed, still smiling, at my hard prick. She thought I was uncomfortable and she was right. But there are many kinds of discomfort, as she would soon learn.

"Kiss the tip of Eric’s penis, Megan." She looked at David and back at my hard prick. With her hands on her thighs she leaned forward and placed her moist lips on the head of my prick, pursed and kissed. She knelt back with a wary look on her face like one might have holding a lit firecracker with a very short fuse.

But David wasn’t through. "Megan, point his penis directly between your eyes and stroke it."

There was no question where this was going. There was no question of what David wanted. Megan resignedly leaned in toward my prick and held it at the base between the thumb and forefinger of her left hand. This was her aiming hand. With her other hand she began to stroke my cock. I don’t believe I lasted more than ten seconds. With a grunt I shot my wad into her face hitting her on the nose, the eye, the cheek, the forehead, the other eye, the eyebrow. Cum got into her hair and dripped onto her chest. I’ll give my sister credit. She kept that squirting prick pointed right where she knew David wanted it. Directly into her face. And she continued to stroke it until that last drop was squeezed out and dripped between her spread knees. She then placed her palms, one sticky with my cum, flat against my thighs and looked up at me with. Her tears had been replaced with my creamy white cum. Lot’s of it. I had been storing it up for a long time. Her hands went back behind her head and she again settled back on her heels, shoulders back, tummy in, chest out, face drenched.

I was drained. It seemed like all of the tension that had been building up in me shot out the end of my prick along with my semen and on to Megan’s face. I was drained but, apparently, I wasn’t finished.

"Over the table, Eric," commanded David. Time to pay the piper. No matter what, I intended to survive my beating, if for no other reason than because Megan had. I bent over the table and gripped the far side with my hands. Our kitchen table is a large one. For Megan to reach the far edge she had to lie flat. Being several inches taller, my stomach was several inches above the surface. David used the cane to tap the inside of thighs, spreading out my legs until my stomach was also flat on the table. Almost immediately the first stroke cut into the very top of my thighs. I don’t know what I expected but it was nothing like the pain that seared into my legs. Two more strokes quickly burned into my ass. I don’t think I cried out aloud but I knew beyond all doubt that I could not survive ten more like that without breaking down. I focused on only one thing and that was keeping my grip on the table edge until the beating was through. Megan was not going to outshine me.

Evidently David had decided that the physical pain wasn’t going to be adequate. He felt that there should be more anticipation. I laid across that able for what seemed like hours but which was only about fifteen minutes. And during every one of those minutes I was thinking about the pain in my ass and how much more horrible it was going to be. Eventually I heard a swishing sound that was David whipping the cane through the air. I heard it maybe four or five times but was still totally unprepared when the cane bit into my ass. The next seven strokes were slowly and methodically administered and each one was worse than the previous. By the end of tenth stroke I was crying every bit as energetically as Megan had cried. There were three left and the thought of just one more laid onto my burning ass terrified me. It’s impossible to explain how painful a well administered canning can be. It’s impossible to explain the fear of having another stroke laid on your ass which had already been thoroughly caned. Some time had passed since the last stroke, enough for the pain to catch up with my brain. I felt the cane between my spread legs and tapping my balls.

"Getting kind of excited down there, aren’t you, baby brother?" my sister asked.

Oh god no! I had forgotten all about Megan. My pain hadn’t even begun. Oh god no, no, no. Megan was an athlete. Tennis, baseball, field hockey, all those sports that required good hand-eye coordination. A good swing. I tightened my grip on the table edge. I hunkered down and tried to become part of the table. The cane bit into the center if my ass with terrible ferocity. The pain shot up my spine and came out my mouth with a blood-curdling whelp. My feet left the floor as my knees shot up under the table. I sobbed into my arm that was drenched with my tears.

"Eric," I heard her say. "I think I’m enjoying giving it to you even more than getting it from you. How about another? Huh?"

I didn’t think anything could be more painful than the stroke I had just received. The next one was. And the last one was worse yet. When Megan was through with me I was a quivering, blubbering mass laid across our kitchen table. As I laid there it seemed like the pain got worse. My ass grew hotter. My entire universe was concentrated in the terrible pain I felt in my ass

After a while I felt a cool hand caressing my upper back and turned my head expecting to see Megan’s naked thigh but I didn’t. Mom was crouched down by the table, her face level with mine, one hand on my back and the other covering one of mine. She was smiling gently. She didn’t say anything for the next several minutes as I tried to regain control of myself. Her cool soft hand caressing my back helped. As my sobbing subsided she asked, "How are you doing, Eric? Do you think you can stand?"

I was still sniffling and wiped my arm across my nose like a little boy. I smiled back at her. "We’ll see, " I said.

My ass was thoroughly whipped but it wasn’t like I was wounded or anything. I pushed myself upright from the table, still sniffling. Mom came around beside me and hugged me. She wrapped her arms around me and placed her head on my shoulder. I rubbed my wet cheek against her hair and hugged her back. After the trauma of the past hour her contact and reassurance helped. It occurred to me that I was eighteen and stark naked and that my mother was fully clothed. It was disconcerting to realize that although the hug might have been motherly in nature I was beginning to find it erotic. My independent prick was becoming hard and pressing against her stomach. Since I had arrived home over an hour ago all of my sexual inhibitions were becoming unhinged and now I had reached that one last prohibition. David decided to help things along.

"Kiss your mother, Eric," he said.

She turned her face toward mine and I kissed her cheek.

"No, Eric," said David. "The two of you both know what I mean. Now try it again."

My eyes looked in mom’s and I saw that the strange feelings that were churning somewhere down inside me weren’t unique. I placed my lips on hers and hers were moist and sweet tasting. Her tongue poked into my mouth and I became lost in the forbidden passion of the moment. Her hands caressed my naked back, my sides and my hips. She even slid her hands over my throbbing ass. She caressed it softly and gently and it soothed the burning. It raised my hormone level. I began to grind my hard penis into her and she responded by pressing back. Our tongues had become intertwined and my hands caressed and traveled from the back of her head to her rear. I cupped her bottom cheeks and caressed them as she gyrated her hips against my erection.

A couple hours before I was a clean-cut college boy. Since then I had beaten my sister’s ass mercilessly and made her cry in pain. I came in my sister’s face as she jacked me off. I had my own ass beaten to the very limits of my tolerance for pain. And then I was standing naked and dry humping my mother as her boyfriend and my sister watched. And she humped me back. And I was loving it. Loving the pain and the humiliation. Loving the depravity. Where was it going? Where could it possibly end?