My wife, Debi, had not always been a disciplinarian. Early in our marriage, I had begged her to spank me. If I could have found any reason to make her furious enough to get out the leather and go to work on my behind, I would have done it in no time flat.
"I don't know, Raymond. That's really not for me."
"Oh, c'mon, Debi. Just pretend I'm your son and I did something naughty."
She shook her head. "I doubt it."
"Work yourself up. Get mad. Think of the last time I pissed you off, and spank me until you're not mad anymore." My eyes danced. "What do you say?"
"Careful what you wish for," she said as she left the room sporting a peculiar little grin.
Several times, she had disarmed me with those words. "Careful what you wish for," she'd say with a wink. I dismissed this as folly each time, and persisted to bring it up during sex. But she'd always used her little phrase to shut me down, and that would be that.
Spanking had always been something of a turn-on for me, not so much for her. The notion of submitting to a female, no matter how ridiculous it seemed, was the pinnacle of sexual excitement for me. Then one day, she accepted the bait.
The first spankings were clumsy, performed perfunctorily and clearly for my benefit. I had to keep from laughing while she dropped the paddle, or fumbled with it and missed my ass cheek and hit my upper thigh. Her arm strength would not intimidate anyone. She would stop and ask if I was okay. Or it might have been that she was shy at all this. Once, she gave up after more than thirty swats because I couldn't keep from laughing. But going over her knee was moderately exciting for me, and it helped us through a period in which sex had become boring.
Then Debi did some reading, and it changed her outlook on marital discipline and spousal spanking.
"You know, we could use spanking as a way to correct your behavior issues, Raymond."
"That's what I've been telling—What behavior issues?" I said.
"Well, there's drinking too much, raising your voice to me, not helping with the chores, lying—"
"When have I lied?" I thundered.
"You just raised your voice, darling," she said, arching an eyebrow. "That should be worth twenty-five in Mistress Debi's woodshed."
At that moment, I looked at her in a new way. It might have been the first time I thought I might fear her. But I just couldn't take her seriously in those early days.
"I know there have been a few white lies, and those have to stop. Raising your voice, disrespecting me, tsk tsk tsk. I can help you clean that up."
Though unimpressed by her display, I smiled at her effort.
My wife's desire, she explained, was to have a weekly correction time, a punishment session where we would clean the slate. She would spank me to the point of tears—mine, not hers—then continue spanking me for another ten or twenty swats, really get me to cry. That was what she wanted, to make me bawl like a little child.
"It's a great idea, honey, but you couldn't raise a single welt on my ass, let alone make me cry. You've tried, and you're as well aware of the outcome as I am." I gave her an apologetic little smile. "I love you for the effort, though."
With folded arms, she tapped her foot on the ground. "Is that so?" The scene was reminiscent of Wilma threatening a larger, stronger Fred.
"Unless you've bulked up while I wasn't looking, you're still my harmless little wife."
"You'll regret those words, mister."
"Babe, you're precious. Don't ever change," I said, pinching her on the cheek. Then I arose, got dressed, helped myself to a beer from the fridge, and fell asleep to a ballgame on the tube.
"You'll be telling that to my strap" were her words as I left the room.
That night she surprised me with the first good whipping I had as an adult. Soon after, Debi transformed herself into a true disciplinarian, and I had no one to blame but myself—and the internet. She even bought a pair of special high heels and made me call her "mistress" on punishment days. Then we settled into a routine of weekly spankings, whether or not I'd been naughty.
My wife and I normally concluded our workweek by going out to dinner, and since neither of us had to get up at any particular time the next morning, we were free to play as late into the night as we liked. As a result, Friday nights had more or less evolved into our appointed night for sex. And spankings.
One hot summer afternoon after work, I thought I would shower before going out. Debi hadn't come home yet, and the kids were over at her mother's. Towel in hand, I strolled out of the bathroom without any clothes on and ran into Debi who was wearing nothing more than four-inch heels and a see-through nighty. In her hand was some kind of a whip. I think they called this an approach-avoidance conflict.
"It's a pleasure whip," she said.
I looked at her with uncertainty. "Whose pleasure?"
"For the remainder of the evening, you will address me as 'Mistress Debi.' You will speak only when you are spoken to. You will follow my orders to the letter."
"You've pre-empted our weekly dinner date?"
"Silence."
"Or else, what?"
She stepped toward me and held the whip high in the air behind her. I raised an arm instinctively to block her.
"You will have your answer, Raymond, and a whole lot more." She lowered her arm, and I lowered mine. "Now drop the towel."
I grinned. "What's come over you, babe? I thought we'd—"
She swung the whip at me and I ducked underneath it. "Next time, I won't miss. Now march yourself over to that chair." She pointed across the room to a stodgy old wooden chair that was older than either of us. With one arm outstretched and a whip in her other hand, she brought to mind some female variation of the Grim Reaper. She met my stare with a steel gaze and did not blink. Sheepishly, Standing naked before her, I complied. My cock had not made up its mind and was somewhere between useful and scared shitless.
Standing behind the chair, I grunted something or other, then jumped as my wife cracked the whip in the air behind me.
"What was that? I didn't hear Mistress Debi in there."
"Uh, okay, Mistress Debi."
"You'll learn to obey me, Raymond. I've learned a few things about corporal punishment and administering pain, and I'm delighted to share them with you! Now stand there while I hook you up."
"Hook me up?"
"Ahem?"
"Hook me up, Mistress Debi?"
She grinned. "Much better. Much better, indeed. You'll come around slowly." Debi fastened my ankles to some kind of cuffs, and then appeared before me as I stood at the back of the chair. "Lean forward." I did.
"What's gotten into you, uh, Mistress Debi?"
"Remember when I told you to be careful what you wished for?"
"Yeah, but—"
"You got your wish."
I looked at her nervously. "What are these?"
"Handcuffs and foot shackles. I bought them online."
"Oh." I swallowed hard. "What are they for?"
"What?"
"What are they for, Mistress Debi?"
"Bend over some more. Arch your back and push your butt out so I can blister it."
Blister it? I felt the walls inching in on me. Suddenly, the air seemed to have thickened, as it was harder to breathe. Aware that levity had been replaced by austerity and my bluff had been called, my pulse jackhammered.
"You are about to have your fantasy played out, Raymond. No more nice spankings. I've seen what you have on your computer."
"My comp—Oh no."
I heard a smile in her voice. "Oh, yes. I know what turns you on, or what you think turns you on. You really should learn to clean out your browser's history, young man. Now prepare yourself to be whipped."
"Honey? Please—"
"Silence! You have been given no such permission to speak. Shall I read the charges against you?"
"Charges?"
She cracked her whip.
"Charges, Mistress Debi?"
"No more warnings for you. The next crack falls across your behind."
I cleared my throat. "W—what charges, Mistress Debi?"
I heard her shuffling behind me and assumed her to be removing an ornate scroll from which she would commence reading a lengthy list of charges, culminating in the proclamation of a death sentence. But no scroll appeared. She merely moved into position alongside me.
"I don't need to tell you anything," she reminded me, "but I will this time. General assholiness, Raymond. Backtalk, mocking me, the usual disrespect. I'm tired of it and you will be punished for it. I will make you regret mistreating me, and you will receive an education right now."
"When have I—"
The whip cut through the air with a whistle and flared a bolt of fresh pain across my lower back. I screeched and shot her a disbelieving glance. She appeared somewhat surprised, but her demeanor quickly returned to resolute.
"Plenty of times, Raymond. Do not speak out of turn again. Are we clear?"
"Yes, ma'am." I began trembling.
She grinned as she registered terror in my eyes. "Good. I believe we have an understanding. Now, for your introductory whipping, you shall receive twenty-five lashes across your bottom, after which time the charges will be dismissed. If you take your punishment properly, there may or may not be corner time, and you may or may not be rewarded afterward."
"Rewarded?" Her eyes narrowed. "Mistress Debi?"
A soft smile stretched across her lips. "Sex, my dear, the carrot before the donkey." Her smile widened. "Now, are you ready to learn to respect me?"
It was noteworthy that after so many fantasies of her spanking me hard and long, now that it was about to happen, there was nothing fantastic about it. My eyes darted around the room like the eyes of a trapped animal. I tested the give on the restraints—first hands, and then feet. My wife had managed to secure me. I looked at her with pleading eyes. My mouth had gone dry.
"Yes, Mistress. I am ready. Oh, one thing?"
"What is it?" Impatience dripped from the corners of her mouth.
"What do we use for a safe word?" I said.
"Where have you ever heard of such a thing?"
"I, uh, read it."
Her eyes narrowed again. I knew I was in trouble whenever I saw her narrowing her eyes. "This is not the internet, Raymond. There is no safe word in this house."
"Oh."
Without any more delay, Debi began whipping me with that horrible leather contraption, some kind of love whip or cat of nine tails or some such ghastly creation. Whistle-crack! The whip fell five, ten, fifteen times, each time shooting searing pain across my rear end and a shower of sparks that seemed to originate somewhere deep within my skull. I clenched my eyes at the first hint of tears. The pain rivaled the worst I'd ever felt. She shifted her feet awkwardly with each stroke. Then the whipping stopped. She set the implement down and slipped out of her heels, then returned to me.
"Now. Where was I?"
"Fifteen, I think." My voice was weak. A tear had popped out of my right eye and broken free. I steadied my breath and braced for more.
"Yes, fifteen. Thank you." Now barefoot, she brought the whip down again, less awkwardly and with more force. Whistle-crack! I yelped. She grinned. Before I could protest, she hit me with number seventeen. Eighteen, nineteen, and twenty fell in rapid succession, each stroke preceded by a whistle and concluding with a crack that made me jump and flinch and writhe. But the restraints kept me in place.
After number twenty, Debi paused to check on me.
"Are you okay, Raymond? Is this too much for you, or shall we continue?" I gasped and sighed but finally quieted, determined not to let my wife best me with a single piece of leather.
Mustering all my strength, I said, "Continue," and braced for the final five.
"Good boy." The legendary Final Five, as we came to refer to them, were the most terrible of all, cutting across my inflamed bottom with fire and indescribable pain. I bucked and yelped but held my composure until the very end. Tears burst free and I bawled like her little boy.
"Spanking barefoot," she said. "That's the key." She was smiling, admiring the whip and my bottom. Then she turned her attention to me. "Are you okay, dear?"
It took me a good minute to catch my breath. "Unlock me. Unlock me this instant."
"Or what? Oh, that sounds like a threat, Raymond, some kind of ultimatum. Handcuffed naked to a chair, you are in no position to be giving me any ultimatums. Now, shall I add another, say, twenty?"
"You wouldn't dare," I shot back.
"Wouldn't I?" Debi returned to her spanking position, planting her bare feet alongside the chair.
"Wait," I said. "Wait, please."
"Ahem?"
I sighed with mounting desperation. "Wait, Mistress Debi."
"For...?"
"Enough," I gasped. "Please."
"Are you sure?" Her voice was like that of a schoolteacher. I felt humiliated, overpowered, ashamed. Locked in place, my wife towered over me with a whip. I was at the mercy of this strict dominatrix, one who now controlled my destiny. This new woman might decide twenty-five painful lashes hadn't been enough, then order another twenty-five or fifty or a thousand. Then what? If she chose to beat me until morning or until I died, I could only beg and plead and cry.
Contrasted with hers, my voice was weak and hoarse. I croaked out my best, "Yes, Mistress I am at your mercy. Please stop. I beg you, please." I broke into fresh sobs.
She smiled broadly. "Now I want to hear you surrender."
I gasped and choked and finally calmed down.
"Surrender to me, Raymond."
"You want me to what?"
"You heard me. Surrender to me completely. Repeat after me: I, Raymond Connor, do solemnly swear—"
"Absolutely not!" I thundered. Without warning, the whip came down on my rear three more times, a whistle followed by a loud crack. I cursed and swore and began howling again.
"Keep using that foul language and I'll whip the daylights out of you, Raymond." She brought the whip down again and again. "I'm really starting to enjoy this, my dear."
Whistle-crack! whistle-crack! whistle-crack!
I howled and cried, to no avail, but the whip kept coming.
"I can dish out a lot more than you can take, mister." Two more, a pause, and then three more. Apparently not satisfied with her effort, she broke into a staccato, speaking alternately with her voice and her whip.
"Don't" whistle-crack! "make" whistle-crack! "me" whistle-crack! "keep" whistle-crack! "whipping" whistle-crack! "you!" whistle-crack! whistle-crack! whistle-crack! She said this as if it had all been my fault. In hindsight, it probably had been.
I sobbed openly. "Yes, yes, please stop!" I begged. "I surrender! I surrender!" Thinking I'd found a safe word, I said it again and again.
"Are you sure? I can whip you until all my anger is gone, and I assure you, there's a lot about your behavior that angers me."
She patiently waited for me to regain my composure. If I needed all night, she would have stood there holding that whip the entire time, waiting for an answer. There was a long pause while I considered whether I would meet her challenge. Using the time to catch my breath, my tears slowed and finally stopped, and I sniffled. But she had me. I was humiliated, naked, beaten nearly senseless, and I had nowhere to hide. She had defeated me, and I could only beg for her mercy.
"I surrender."
"Completely?"
"Completely."
"To?"
"To you, Debi."
Whistle-crack!
"Mistress Debi!" I shouted. Then, panting and in a normal voice, "I surrender completely to you, Mistress Debi." As I spoke the words, I felt a subtle power shift, a shift from a home in which my word was the ultimate authority to one in which she gave all the orders. She was now my superior, and I was her subordinate. I added, "I will be your slave, I will kiss your feet if you want me to, I will do whatever the... whatever you want."
"Are you sure this is what you want, Raymond?"
"Yes."
"There's no going back to our vanilla life."
"Yes, Mistress Debi. I'm sure."
"From this point on, I will be the head of the household."
"Yes, Mistress."
"You will respect me, follow each of my commands without question."
"Yes, Mistress."
"I own you now. As of this moment, you are my slave."
"Yes, Mistress." I felt the weight lifted off my shoulders. "Yes, Mistress."
"Raymond, you do realize that I may spank you without cause or reason, without apology, and if you question me, you will be whipped soundly, much worse than today."
"Yes, Mistress. I understand. I will obey."
"Very good!" With the handle of the terrible whip tucked under an arm like a swizzle stick, she applauded me with a golf-clap. "Very good, Raymond. Now that we have an understanding, I'm going to loosen the restraints. You'll spend the next fifteen minutes standing with your nose in the corner. I want you to think about our new relationship now that you have submitted absolutely to my authority."
Still sniffling, I did as I was told.
A short time later, she excused me from the corner and, after I issued a lengthy apology and asserted my willingness to move forward as her slave, we made love. Over the next several hours, I came repeatedly inside her. My cum factory must have been operating full tilt as I had more cum to give well after midnight.
When I awoke to bright sunshine, we renewed our marriage vows to each other while still in bed, made love once more, and I began my first full day as my wife's subordinate.
That was many months and many spankings ago.
Lately, I had slipped again and done some things she hadn't liked. It was so easy falling into the habit of disrespecting her. In some weird way, I was glad she was there and so eager to correct me as needed.
On this particular Friday night, she trotted out a long list of offenses. Fortunately for me, she only concentrated on the most grievous ones.
"Looks like you'll be talking to my strap tonight, mister. You overdrew took money from the ATM without telling me, and you lied." She studied me, waiting for a reply. "Your daydreaming seems to have jarred your memory. Title, remember?" She narrowed her eyes, and whenever she narrowed her eyes, I was in for a very bad time. A real thrashing was inevitable, and I'd gone out of my way to earn it, so I didn't put up much fight. "How many lashes?"
"You mean, 'How many lashes, Mistress Debi?' don't you?" She pointed with her index finger at the leather belt she wore around her waist.
"How many, Mistress Debi?" It took quite some getting used to referring to my wife as Mistress anything. But, reinforced by her hand, a wooden spoon, a metal spatula that left terrible welts, her wooden hairbrush, her cat o' nine tails whip, and that awful leather strap, I made sure I got used to it quickly. She also once whipped me so hard with a riding crop that I still feel it today. Any offense, she'd warned, would result in my being whipped as hard and as long as she desired. She'd already proven she had no reluctance to spank me on consecutive nights, or administer what she liked to call a strapping frenzy. On one notable occasion, I'd even bled. She'd left horrible welts that made sitting impossible, sometimes for several days. It was her way of controlling me, of saving our marriage.
I now owed her for two offenses. Taking money without telling her was bad enough, but the lying carried with it a separate punishment. Usually, a whole night of discipline was reserved for dealing with lies. Lies led to affairs, and affairs ended marriages. So it made sense that Debi had opted to give the most severe punishments for lies, an evening on which I would receive the longest whippings, whippings that could last an hour or longer, after which any additional offenses would be handled separately. Such extra punishment might include corner time, an extended paddling with another implement, and a list of chores to do around the house, chores that I was to do in the nude. Forced chastity was something she used on occasion, and I might be denied an orgasm for a week or longer. Questioning any aspect of my punishment only lengthened them, so I learned to keep my tongue.
Depending on her mood, she sometimes treated me to sex after my debt had been paid, but such delicacies occurred less often than I'd preferred. I never knew ahead of time for reasons she knew to be important. She'd learned how to educate me in behavioral matters, and when sex did follow a punishment session, it was the best sex of my life.
I'd agreed with my wife long ago that I needed help with my issue of being deceitful, especially when it was convenient for me to avoid punishment or get out of a jam of my own making. This time, the lie had flown from my lips without restraint, far too easily, and she'd caught me. I knew immediately that I'd earned a trip to her woodshed.
She smiled wickedly. "I think you can expect a minimum of a hundred lashes with my belt today." My heart sank and I began to tremble. "And I have planned a little extra punishment for you, too." She arched an eyebrow. "I have something very special in mind, Raymond." She let the words hang in the air while watching me tremble. My mind ran wild with possibilities. She must have read my facial expression because I think she smiled. "Remember the strapping frenzy?"
Once, my wife had tied me to a coffee table and given me thirty nonstop lashes with her leather whip, the dreaded cat of nine tails, nine strips of leather with the ability to turn flesh into raw, swollen meat. I'd cried so long and so hard, I'd nearly passed out from the ordeal. I would never forget the term, "strapping frenzy." She sometimes preceded the word frenzy with spanking, paddling, or whipping. I'd learned to hate the sound of the word.
I nodded as my legs began to go weak..
"You're very close to a strapping frenzy, Raymond."
"I'm sorry."
"Ahem."
"I'm sorry, Mistress Debi."
"Oh, you will be." She smiled again. "And the extra punishment I have planned for you after your strapping..." Her voice trailed off without concluding the thought audibly. She stood. "For now, we'll be correcting that respect problem of yours. You will learn to respect me, Raymond, as well as to obey my every command, since you seem to have forgotten."
"I already do." But it was too late. She motioned to the spanking chair, an antiquated beast handed down to her from her mother. I wondered if my mother-in-law beat her husband while he was tied to the monstrosity. As my wife reached a hand to her belt buckle, acid flared in my stomach as if I'd swallowed a blowtorch.
"The kids are with mother for our weekend." Weekend? I knew I was in for something horrible. They never went away for the entire weekend. "So, in addition to your extra punishment, I also had a special date night set aside. I'm sure you remember?"
"Yes, Mistress Debi."
"I was thinking, it would be nice to have another child, make it three." She smiled dreamily. It was hard to imagine so much pain and so much pleasure coming from the same person. "I might let you be a daddy again, Raymond."
"That would be wonderful, Mistress."
"You will never love anyone but me, is that clear?"
Remembering our renewed vows, I said, "Perfectly, Mistress."
"Your cock is for me and only me. But you must work off all your demerits before we can think about sex."
"I understand, Mistress." I looked into her warm brown eyes and suddenly had to work to fight back tears, a fight I would soon lose to her strap.
She smiled again. She loved seeing fear in my eyes. It made her feel the power. "Now bare your bottom for me. You know the drill. Naked, bent over the chair." Hoping to avoid another strapping frenzy that could keep me standing for a week, I obediently removed my clothes, folded them neatly, and promptly got into position. Without having been asked, I arched my back for her and kept it arched, extending my rump for her to blister. Any points I might score now could lessen the whipping. At least I hoped as much.
Her feet came gracefully into view as she came around to the front of the chair and fastened my hands to cuffs she had hidden beneath the cushion. Doing so brought my head to below the level of my bottom. I watched nervously as one hand expertly loosened her belt. I heard the trademark whisper as she pulled it off. I shivered in anticipation at the sound of it, and saw her clutching it in her spanking hand. The belt hung at her side and swung tauntingly as she walked about. Expecting me to be watching, she slipped out of her high heels slowly and deliberately, revealing sexy feet she had made me worship with my mouth many times, toes I'd suckled and made to sparkle with my tongue. The sight of them made me forget about the beating for a moment. I imagined all ten toes pointing skyward, her legs parted, her vagina penetrated by my manhood, thrusting, sliding in and out, kissing her mouth hungrily, exploding my cum inside of her.
The touch of cold iron clamping my ankle to one of the chair's legs brought me back. Standing behind me, she had spread my legs apart and locked my ankles firmly to cuffs.
"Don't you dare move, Raymond, or it will be much worse for you."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Eyes on my toes." It was advice I made sure to follow. Once, she'd ordered me to watch her toes but I had not and she'd slapped me across the face with the bottom of her foot for my disobedience. Now I watched them out of habit. Keeping my eyes on her toes kept my head from moving about, and it helped keep me focused on the whipping. It kept me in the moment, prevented me from imagining I were on a tropical island, sipping a fruity drink.
"Yes, ma'am, they are, ma'am."
I did as I was told without protest. But with the belt about to fall, I wanted to run, wanted to cry, felt helpless and as embarrassed as a schoolboy. I wanted to cancel our agreement and tell her none of this was working. But I knew it was. At some strange level, I needed to be disciplined by her. I needed these whippings, as odd as the concept was. Opting out of the agreement would only serve me in the short term, and I realized it.
"Mistress Debi?" My feeble voice cracked. I worked to push out words through a throat made tight by fear.
I heard only her soft, steady breathing coming from behind me. Clenching my eyes tightly, back arched and bottom held out for her to see, I had braced for the strap to fall. But she gave me a reprieve, if only a short one.
"Nice job on extending your bottom, by the way. A little higher, though. You're relaxing too much. There, like that. Now, what do you want? Time's a wasting." In contrast to mine, her voice was firm and strong. Gone was the frivolity, the warmth for which it was known. This was her business voice. She was ready, she was resolute. I shivered openly.
"Please be gentle, my mistress."
"Tell it to the strap," she said. "Just keep your head still and those eyes riveted on my toes." And with that, the belt promptly whistled through the air and found its mark.
Whoosh, crack. Pain shot through my ass, and the tears I'd been working to hold back began to pool in my eyes. Without pause, the strap fell again and again.
Whoosh, crack. Whoosh, crack. My whipping was underway.
I lost count almost immediately and must have begun bawling by the tenth lick. I sobbed, begged, even pleaded, while kicking my legs pointlessly against the firm stocks. No safe word had been agreed upon because there was no way out. The strap kept coming.
Whoosh, crack. Whoosh, crack.
I think my pleas only angered her, as the whipping built in intensity. She said nothing, just whipped me silently, methodically. My wife was in business mode.
Whoosh, crack. Whoosh, crack.
My howls had no effect on the dumb, mindless strap with the limited vocabulary.
Whoosh, crack, the only words the belt spoke, and it spoke them often.
"Head still, eyes on my toes, Raymond."
The belt hurt so much, I didn't know if my eyes were even open.
Whoosh, crack. Whoosh, crack. Whoosh, crack. Whoosh, crack, like a heavy man moving fast on a bum leg. Whoosh, crack. Whoosh, crack.
No longer able even to sob, I lay limp, mustering only muffled groans. Whoosh, crack. Whoosh, crack.
Then, as abruptly as it started, my spanking was over.
Quivering like Jello, I sobbed. Mistress Debi waited as my sobs slowed and I regained my composure, leaving me tied up and bent over all the while. Knowing the strap could resume speaking without warning, I trembled visibly. My divine mistress examined the welts she had so expertly put into my crimson bottom and nodded her approval.
"Nice," she said. "Very nice. Oh, yes. This has been a thorough job." I heard her smiling. Then I heard the clicking of her iPhone's camera. "Your backside looks splendid, indeed." More snapshots.
Then she unlocked my ankles and worked her way to the front of the chair. I raised my head slowly to meet her eyes. She was grinning.
"Camera, my mistress?" I panted.
"For my collection, silly man."
"Oh."
"I'll show you my website one day."
My mind jumped around, visiting all sorts of frightening possibilities.
"As for your spanking, you did very well, Raymond." I watched as she slid one foot into one of her heels—slowly, watching me watching her—followed by the second. My wife always spanked me barefoot. It gave her more traction, and more traction meant a harder stroke and more pain, and more pain meant more tears, and more tears meant a happier wife and an obedient husband. Then she looped the belt around her waist and unlocked my wrists. I stood and she eyed my limp cock, brushing her fingers lightly against it. "Mine," she cooed. "You are all mine." She hugged me and I pressed my face against her bosom and wept like a little boy. She kissed me on the mouth, a kiss that reminded me she was not my mother, rather my mistress, my disciplinarian, my lover, my wife, indeed my owner. She wiped away my tears, kissed me again.
"Thank you for spanking me, Mistress," I sniffled.
"Have you learned your lesson, Raymond? No more faux pas at the ATM? No more lying?"
"Yes, Mistress. I promise to obey all your rules, always."
"Good, because we can just as easily continue the whipping if you need it."
"No, I don't."
"What was that?"
"No, Mistress. I don't need to be whipped anymore. Please."
"Good." She smiled. After applying lotion to soothe my fiery bottom, she said, "Now, I want you to stand in the corner for fifteen minutes and think about why I had to whip you."
"Yes, Mistress."
"Do not touch your bottom. Do not rub. I will be watching."
"Thank you, Mistress."
"I mean it, Raymond. I can put you over my knee or the coffee table and add another fifty with the paddle." It was obvious how much she enjoyed punishing me.
"I know, Mistress. Please don't paddle me. Please?" I thought about the riding crop. My voice was still shaky.
"When I come back, if you've been good, we will make a baby." She was smiling widely. Her contagious smile spread quickly to me.
"Thank you, Mistress. That would be lovely." My limp cock found some leftover inspiration and began to stir. She extended a hand and stroked me slowly.
"This little guy will be put to very good use," she cooed. I managed a smile. "And later on, I have a very special surprise, the final part of your two-part discipline."
I opened my mouth in shock but refused to ask a question that would only anger her. I continued to force my silly smile. If she thought I was sassing her, she would grab me by the ear, throw me onto the bed, and whip me for a very long time.
"Now off to the corner with you." She grinned, proud of the fine work she'd done on my bottom. "I'll be back."
The corner time passed quickly. I dared not touch my backside, as much as I'd wanted to rub it. Mistress Debi returned wearing a black Teddy. Instead of the dominatrix's heels, she was barefoot. Instead of punishment implements, in her hands were a tray with crackers and two glasses of what looked to be wine. She excused me from the corner and I met her on the bed.
Over the next hour, we made love twice. Each time, I gazed into eyes that seemed to control my orgasms. I came on her command. "Cum, cum now," she said. And semen flowed out of me and into her like a river of life.
Something far away, an inaudible voice from somewhere, as if originating in a distant part of another universe, some unseen knowledge reservoir, assured me she would conceive.
It would later prove right.
"I love you, Mistress Debi."
"I love you, too."
"Thank you also for permitting me to become a daddy again."
As if by the throwing of a switch, my wife returned to her dominating persona. Her voice changed. Gone was the pleasantness of love. "For the second phase of your punishment. Mistress Melissa is coming over for dinner. I expect you to be on your best behavior."
"But, but—"
"You know my sister expects nothing less than perfection, Raymond, and if you disappoint her, I guarantee your next whipping will be far worse." Then she gave me a chilly warning I would remember for some time. "She knows about our punishment sessions and has been begging me to let her whip you. Disappoint her in the least and I'll march you right back in here and turn her loose on you. You know, spare the belt, spoil the hubby? It works for the brother-in-law, too."
I was deflated. "Yes, Mistress Debi. I will obey."
She touched her index finger to her lips as if searching for an idea. "You will serve us in the nude tonight."
"What?"
"Ahem."
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please forgive me."
She looked at me as though she'd grown so very tired of explaining herself. "You are forgiven. This time."
"Thank you, Mistress. What was that about service in the nude, Mistress?"
"You heard me. You will be given chores to do in the nude for me and Mistress Melissa."
"But, Mistress Debi. Nude? In front of your sister?"
"That's right. She's excited to see the man you've become." She reached a hand around and patted my bottom, a gesture that was reminiscent of a spanking motion. "You won't disappoint us now, will you?"
"No."
"No, what?"
"No, Mistress Debi."
"Besides, I'd like her to see the job her belt did on your bottom."
I was aghast. "Her belt?"
"That's right. It was a present." Her grin was back and now wider than ever. "She wants our reconciliation to succeed. I'm sure it will, aren't you?"
"Yes, Mistress Debi. I'm sure it will."
She gave me a look. "I'm detecting an attitude," she said, arching an eyebrow. My wife needed only the slightest hint of provocation to spank me. She seemed to be itching for any excuse to whip me again.
"No, ma'am."
"I don't think I like your tone. Perhaps I need to whip it out of you."
Terror gripped me. "No, Mistress. I'll behave, I promise."
She ordered me off the bed and onto the floor, then padded toward the closet and retrieved her riding crop. I shivered at the sight of it and began to cry. My bottom couldn't take even a single lick from that horrible implement.
We were both still nude from our lovemaking, and she was an awesome sight, with her lovely 34C boobs and her riding crop in hand. I was completely at her mercy. Any attempt at grabbing my clothes and dashing downstairs and outside to safety would only provide a brief escape against her wicked, flailing crop.
She advanced toward me.
"Kneel before me, Raymond."
Trembling and sniffling, I complied without a sound. With my face low to the ground and my bottom in the air once again, she towered over me. I craned my neck to look upward.
"Face down."
I touched my forehead to the carpet. She slid a foot near my face.
"Make love to my toes. Use your tongue."
Expecting the crop to begin striking me, I kissed her great toe and her instep, followed by each of her smaller toes.
She sighed in disgust. I heard the crop whoosh through the air and steeled myself for a shower of pain. But my wife had swung only at air. That swing had been for practice.
"Do it with verve, Raymond. Make love to my foot. I want to feel passion. Convince me not to punish you with my crop. You have no idea how much I enjoy seeing your tears."
I put more feeling into my kisses, alternately licking and kissing the tops of her toes, even pretending as though I were kissing her mouth. I worked my tongue in between her toes, spending time making love to each one.
"Let me make this easier for you," she said, raising her toes upward for me. "There. Keep at it."
Now I was better able to suck each toe individually, which I did, twirling my tongue around and between each toe. I made a mess with my saliva, but at least her toes were clean.
I again heard the clicking of her iPhone's camera.
"Now suck each one. Hard. There, good. Mm, yes." More clicking. "Pretend they're candy. Lick the bottoms of my toes. Good. More. Yes, yes. I should have you do the other one, but we'll have to continue this later. I'm getting horny. You've done a good job indeed." Her smile was back. "You have redeemed yourself and avoided my riding crop. For now."
I sighed openly. "Thank you, Mistress. Thank you."
"Arise, Raymond."
I got to my feet. The camera was in one hand, riding crop in the other.
Eying my erect cock, she said, "Oh, someone seems to have enjoyed that quite a bit." Another snapshot, then another and another. She was grinning as she recorded the proud state of my penis. I dared not move.
"Enough," she said. "I'm going to shower. You may shower after I do. You are to remain nude for my sister who should be here shortly." Eying my cock, "It's a shame to waste that." She snapped one last picture of my naked front and smiled.
"Yes, Mistress."
"I'll send these off to my sister."
"You're sending her the pictures??"
She glared at me. "Yes. Do you have a problem with that? Perhaps we need to continue our discussion?"
"No, Mistress Debi. I'm sorry. Forgive me, please."
"It's no problem at all, dear." She grinned. "Not for me, anyway."
"Please forgive me, Mistress. I won't question you again."
"You'd better not. Now, get downstairs and set the table before I change my mind. If you knew how to cook, I'd have you do that. I'll just have something delivered," she said, fresh disgust in in her voice.
"Yes, Mistress. I will obey."
She smiled. "Obedience is a good thing."
I smiled, too. "Yes, Mistress. Very good."
Melissa wore a black shoulder less dress that was slit up the sides, and four-inch open-toed heels. Her eyes sparkled at the first-ever sight of my naked body. I was mortified, but I knew that if I showed any such emotion, my wife would whip me senseless in front of her sister before handing the belt to Mistress Melissa. The thought of my sister-in-law whipping me filled me with dread.
After dinner, I cleaned the table and did the dishes, in the nude, and served the ladies coffee and cheesecake, careful not to become erect in front of anyone but my wife. Who knows how she'd respond to that? Later, my wife ordered me into the bedroom where I waited kneeling at the foot of the bed. She and Mistress Melissa entered the room a short time later. The women both wore matching open-toed heels, black and seductive. They were cheery and lighthearted, as If they'd imbibed. Knowing my wife might be newly pregnant, Debi would not be drinking after tonight, at least not until we received her EPT results, results I knew would be positive.
"Watch this, Melissa. Ahem. Raymond?"
"Yes, Mistress Debi?"
"Bow before me and request permission for the privilege of worshiping my feet."
"Yes, Mistress Debi." I knelt before the women. "I humbly request permission to worship your feet."
"Permission granted."
"Thank you, Mistress Debi." I slid her heels off gently and placed them aside. Under Melissa's admiring eyes, I used my tongue to tend to both of my wife's lovely feet, all ten toes, arches, heels, bottoms, ankles. I took my time, careful not to leave any skin unlicked. Nothing from her shins to the tips of her toes went unworshiped. As always, I paid particular attention to her toes, suckling each one in its entirety.
Impatient, Melissa spoke up. "Now it's my turn," she said. Her wide smile was sinister yet strangely inviting. Though she was prettier than my wife, I'd never cared for this woman, even forced myself not to see her as attractive, even though she was. Yet something was in the air tonight, something different. Something that would change everything.
I gingerly removed the strap on the back of one of her heels and let the shoe dangle and then fall to the floor. I repeated the process for the other shoe, and she immediately held her bare foot to me, bypassing my hands, bringing her toes to my lips, demanding to be served.
"Open up," she demanded. My wife giggled. "That's right. Obey or be whipped." Her attempt at sounding authoritative was comedic, yet it was entirely humorless. "Now lick. Lick all of them."
I began worshiping my sister-in-law's feet. My tongue draped across the soft bottoms of her well-manicured toes, sweeping back and forth, stopping to enjoy each toe individually. I surprised myself when a soft moan escaped me. Her toes tasted of something pleasant and fruity. I wondered if she'd prepared for this in advance.
"Good little pet. Don't forget in-between the toes. Make them sparkle the way you do your wife's."
On command, my tongue slithered into and out of the cracks between Melissa's toes, finding more of that pleasant fruity flavor. She had done well as her feet didn't taste quite like her older sister's feet. I moaned again, as if eating ice cream on a hot day. This made them both giggle.
"Good boy. Ah, yes. That feels very good. I see why you like this, Debi." More giggles. "Massage them. Yes, like that. Oh, yes. Kisses, don't forget to kiss them. That's right, kiss my feet adoringly. Kiss them like you're trying to get out of a whipping." At this, they cackled gaily.
"I think he's enjoying it, Sis," my wife said.
"Raymond? Open wide." I stretched my lips wide as she pushed five toes into my mouth, then kept pushing until all the toes disappeared." Then Mistress Melissa produced an iPhone and began snapping pictures, a humiliating record of my sister-in-law's foot shoved partway down my throat. My wife took out her camera and did the same. I wanted to crawl away and die. Now they had proof and would forever use this against me, an event I could never deny or wish away. They would forever bring up this night in conversation the way women, in particular sisters, could. I was doomed. With her foot still in my mouth, I licked her toes like sweet candy, and as she removed it, I kept worshiping her foot. I closed my eyes and licked and sucked and kissed as if I were enjoying a succulent watermelon. She began thrusting her great toe in and out of my mouth like a penis, fucking me in some weird way. Each time her toe passed through my lips, I sucked it and made a popping, slurping sound we both seemed to enjoy. This went on for some time. If it were possible, I half-expected her to jet a spray of cum down my throat. I nearly wished she would.
Without realizing it, I had brought a hand to my cock, in plain sight of both women, and had been stroking myself for some time. If the ladies were enjoying the foot worshiping, they were not alone. There was something oddly satisfying about being used for the sexual gratification of someone I didn't particularly like. While I could have been whipped for taking such liberties without permission, I kept on stroking myself. Melissa then began petting the top of my head with her other foot while simultaneously pushing the other deep in my mouth. She wiggled her toes on the back of my tongue, then pulled out so I could resume servicing her toes individually. Judging by her expression, she was enjoying herself more than I'd ever imagined she would.
"Looks like I'm going to have to put you in chastity, mister," Mistress Debi said. But I kept on licking and sucking and stroking myself.
"This feels amazing," Melissa said.
"He really is useful, isn't he?" All smiles.
"I'd really enjoy making a movie of you two having sex," Melissa said.
"Oh, we'll definitely have to try that, Sis! But I have another idea, something I know you're going to enjoy."
Then the women exchanged a knowing glance.
"Raymond?" The voice was that of my wife. But Melissa seemed unwilling to remove her foot from my mouth. She spread her toes so as to keep them locked in place. I could only mumble. "Mistress Melissa and I were talking earlier, and..."
I arrived promptly at seven wearing a suit so expensive, I'd had to rent it. Mistress Melissa was dressed elegantly as before, same long black evening dress with the seductive slit up the sides, same open-toed pumps, no doubt worn to remind me what would be going into my mouth. I studied her toes, wondering what the night would bring. Red toenail polish glistened on freshly painted nails. The sight made me shiver with anticipation. She was scorching hot and she knew it. I handed her a bouquet of red roses with baby's breath, which she accepted and put into a vase. She thanked me with a long wet kiss, the first time we had kissed in the many years I'd known her.
"But Mistress Melissa, this wasn't—"
She pressed a finger over my lips to silence me. "Shoosh. You don't want to visit my woodshed before dinner, do you?" I shivered inside and shook my head. "You'll be on your best behavior tonight, Raymond. Or else." She grinned and I nodded sheepishly. Then we left for dinner.
By nine o'clock, we were done eating, and by a quarter after, we were checking into a four-star hotel downtown. My groin stirred as I signed the registry, a fancy room reserved under the names of Mr. and Mrs. Connor. Raymond and Melissa Connor. The words were so unreal, my world felt rubbery. Realizing everyone in the hotel believed this woman to be my wife awakened my cock.
Although I had worked over the years to suppress any attraction for my hot sister-in-law, I realized now that it had all been in vain. Then it struck me as odd: Who in their right mind would spend two hundred dollars a night to worship a woman's feet?
Once in the room, Mistress Melissa ordered me to present myself before her. She then fastened a collar around my neck. I remembered seeing a chain in her rather large purse, which seemed out of place at the time but now made sense. I was to be her pet for the weekend. Once on her leash, all of my movements would be under her control. I was briefly relieved that I was not in any danger of being whipped. She shattered those hopes when she removed a leather belt from her purse, the same belt she had given my wife, the same belt my wife had used countless times on me, that marriage-saving, pain-inducing strip of leather. I recognized the unmistakable wear marks, the imprint left by my wife's hand and forefinger over the innumerable lashes she'd applied to my backside. Now it was her sister's turn. She made a loop with the belt, held it before me, and cracked it loudly.
"Melissa, please. I've been on my best behavior. I haven't earned this."
"Do not speak without permission, Raymond. Your wife turned you over to me, to do with as I please. Whatever I choose to do to you, I will do. And, no more speaking out of turn. Do we understand each other?"
I looked at her in a whole new light. "Yes, Mistress Melissa."
"Now undress for your mistress, and be quick about it. You don't want to make her angry."
I reluctantly kicked off my shoes and felt the weight of her stare as I removed my shirt. Then I slid out of my slacks.
"Undies, too," she sang. I slid them off, revealing the cage my untrusting wife had put me in. But Melissa only laughed. "Ah, yes. My sister has her insecurities about me, I see." She calmly removed a key from her purse and in short order set me free. I responded with almost instant praise. Now I was bare before her and humiliated again, my cock standing proud and saluting the object of its lust. Her grin widened.
"Oh, I like the respect you're showing me, my pet!" She touched my cock with her free hand, formed an O with her thumb and forefinger, and slid down the shaft once, then a second time, then a third. My hips rocked automatically. "Your wife obviously has no idea we're doing this," she grinned. Melissa held her hand still and let me continue fucking her hand. To this point, I'd only kissed her mouth once and slobbered all over her toes. Touching my sex organ was breaking new ground. I feared what my wife would do to me if she ever found out we'd removed the chastity cage.
She stopped stroking me and her face turned to stone. She collected my clothes and put them in a shopping bag, then took the bag out of the room and returned. I dared not ask her what this all meant. Then she attached the chain to my collar and picked up the strap.
"Fun's over. Now turn around," she ordered. Any hint of mercy in her voice was gone. She led me to the bed by the leash and let it drop from her hand. "Hands on the bed, spread your legs, butt high in the air. That's right, you know the position." My cock began to return to its useless form. "I have no cuffs to hold you the way your wife does, so you'd better hold still. You wouldn't want this to turn into a strapping frenzy, would you?" Fire coated my stomach at her words.
Before I could plead for leniency, her arm went high in the air. A loud crack issued from behind me as her wicked strap connected with my bottom. I winced but held as still as I could while the belt fell again and again, though with less gusto than Mistress Debi's well-polished whippings. I dared not let Mistress Melissa know this or she'd whip me all night, something about the unspoken competition between sisters. Melissa had always felt superior to my wife, and my future, now in Mistress Melissa's hands, was becoming clearer to me with each welt she raised. This was the first time I could recall ever being spanked for nothing. Mistress Melissa strapped me as a show of domination, nothing else. With the whipping, she had effectively made the statement, 'For the next forty-eight hours, I own you, I own your ass, I own your will, and I will do with you whatever I please.' Each stroke deepened the blush of my bottom, eliciting a wince and a grunt each time she found her target.
"There," she said. "An even fifty. You may turn around now." I wiped a tear from my eye and steadied my breathing. "What do you say after your mistress has disciplined you?"
"Thank you, Mistress Melissa, for disciplining me." I felt my cock begin to stir. Had I enjoyed this?
She grinned. "You'll find I am capable of delivering a much harsher punishment than your dear wife, my pet."
I considered this, and even though I believed otherwise, I dared not show even the slightest disrespect to her. If this was the warm-up to the main show, I was screwed. She had all weekend to whip me, enough time for a thousand lashes. I trembled. Even a moderate whipping could result in terrible discomfort given enough lashes. My wife had proved this before.
"Yes, Mistress."
"As you know, punishments can be carried out in other ways. Lots of other ways, things we have yet to explore." Her eyes went to the door before returning to me. "Notice your clothes have disappeared. You are my prisoner, Raymond." I saw trouble brewing in her eyes. "You don't believe me, do you, my pet?"
"Yes, Mistress. I believe you."
"Don't lie to me."
I said nothing.
"My pet, it is my sincere hope that you should err and challenge me to show you what I am capable of doing. You have no idea how much pain I can cause you, how much embarrassment. For starters, I might open the door and march you down the hallway." She grinned. "Or have you get me a drink from the bar."
"I would do that for you anytime, Mistress Melissa."
"Nude."
I swallowed hard. Her grin widened.
"You see, there are so many ways I can torment you, my pet, and you will comply because Mistress Debi has informed me you absolutely disdain such humiliation."
"Yes, Mistress."
From her expression, I could see her thinking. "How would you like to take a stroll to the front desk and fill our ice bucket?"
"I—yes, Mistress."
"Nude, of course."
"Yes, Mistress. Anything for Mistress Melissa." I trembled as I called her bluff. My cock stirred. I imagined the humiliation of walking through public—down the hallway, in the elevator, and to the hotel lobby and back—all in the nude. My mind snapped back as she began to remove her dress. The dress pooled delicately at her gorgeous feet, conjuring up memories of them in my mouth. Without a bra or undies, she was now nude except for her heels.
"Perhaps later," she cooed. "Right now, I have something else for you to do. Remove my shoes."
"Right away, Mistress." I knelt before her and undid the straps on each shoe before sliding them, one by one, off her delicious feet as gently as if she were made of crystal. My hands trembled, as I knew any miscue would result in another, perhaps longer, whipping. The task completed, I rose to my feet. We now stood naked before each other. She was delightful, much more appealing in the nude than my wife. My cock turned to iron at the sight of her full nakedness. She acknowledged this with a confident grin, then led me by the leash and onto the bed with her.
With one hand, she pulled me toward her and a surprise. One of her feet found my mouth and she jammed all her toes inside, pushing until I began to gag. My lips came to the middle of her instep, a narrow, sexy size seven foot with five very pretty toes, all of which now rested near the back of my throat.
"Your wife tells me you think my toes taste sweet. I did that for you, Raymond." She smiled. "How does it feel to be dominated completely by your sister-in-law?" She laughed gaily. "You like the taste of my feet, don't you, my pet?"
I slid her foot out just far enough to get the words out. "Yes, Mistress."
"Silence! I gave you no permission to speak!" She brought a hand back and slapped me across the face with a flatted palm. I saw stars and my cheek instantly went numb. I looked at her in shock, but she returned her toes to my mouth and shoved them in with added force. "Consider that a warning, Raymond. If you continue to misbehave, I'll have you licking cat shit from my feet."
Resisting the urge to gag, I licked and sucked the best I could. Then she changed feet and motioned for me to start with the toes, first one at a time, then two, and then she had all five in my mouth once again. She was clearly enjoying the foot worship. I feared letting her know I did, too, since she might change the punishment to something hideous. Then her smile returned.
"You're going to fuck me, Raymond. You're going to fuck me all weekend."
Even though I was surprised, I said nothing. What she said next nearly caused me to jump up and run out of the room.
"This weekend, we're going to conceive."
Pushing against both her foot and the leash, I pulled her toes from my mouth and nearly screamed. "Melissa! Are you out of your mind?"
"No! Put that back in your mouth or I'll call my sister and we'll beat the shit out of you!" She pulled hard on the leash. I saw the hand without the leash swing back as if to strike me again. Her legendary temper flared, and fear ripped through me, so I obeyed her through pleading eyes. "She thinks I'm schooling you in the ways of being a proper hubby, thinks you're tied up in some Holiday Inn, worshiping my feet and getting an education from my leather strap." I shivered and she saw it and laughed. "She's partly right, isn't she? Oh, and it's 'Mistress Melissa' to you. Remember the spanking frenzy? My sister told me all about the way she whips you hard and fast. I'll do worse to you, my pet. I'll tie your hands behind your back and whip every inch of your pathetic body if you piss me off. Do not piss me off again, is that clear?" There was a pause to let her words sink in. Seeing her angry and nude while in complete control of me was more erotic than I'd ever thought possible. Her beauty seared into my mind through eyes that began to crave her.
"She'll kill us both if she finds out we had sex." I wanted up and to be set free, but at the same time, I wanted to be held captive and forced to fuck this woman against a will that was fast becoming her will. I braced for another punch.
"I'll tell her you raped me, Raymond. I'll press charges and you'll go to jail for years. You can never win. You have no choice other than to surrender completely to me."
I looked at her in horror. "You can't get away with that!"
"Au contraire, Raymond. I can, and I will if I have to. Allegations of rape, whether true or not, can cause you more anguish than you could ever know."
"Don't you think I could press charges for domestic violence?"
She laughed. "Beaten by a woman? The cops get a bang out of battered men," she snickered. "You'd be a laughingstock. No, you won't dare call the police because I'd really beat the shit out of you if you ever tried."
I thought of her crashing one of the hotel glasses against a table and charging at me with a shard in hand. My will to fight was almost gone.
"Debi told me about your naughty little secret." An impish grin settled across her face.
"What little secret?"
"You know, that very personal thing she straps on and puts up your ass?" I said nothing. "You know what I mean, and don't lie, or I swear I'll parade you in front of that window, open up the drapes, and give you a public whipping you will never forget."
We stared each other down. "What about it?"
"I have one, too. It's in my purse. And I have lube to go with it. I'll strap it on and juice it up and fuck your ass with it." She grinned. "Or fuck you without lube, either way. I know you like that. Admit it, Raymond."
"No."
"Remember what your punishment will be for lying, my poor pet."
My shoulders slumped as I felt myself deflate. I surrendered completely to Mistress Melissa. "Yes. I've been known to take it from her now and then."
"Say it, Raymond. Say, 'My wife fucks my ass with a strap-on cock.' Let me hear you say it." She was grinning wickedly.
The words stuck in my throat but I forced them out. Listening to them was unreal, as if someone else was standing next to me and speaking in my voice. But I said it anyway. "My wife fucks my ass with a strap-on cock."
"And you like it, don't you?"
I sighed. "Yes, Mistress Melissa. I like it. When it's done gently, I have to admit I rather enjoy it."
"When it's inside my vagina, I can tell you it feels like a real penis," she said dreamily. "Almost, anyway. But it lacks something. What does it feel like to you?"
"I wouldn't know. There's never been a penis up there. But I can tell you it's like surrendering my entire will to her, admitting her superiority over me, putting her in absolute and total control."
"I like to think I achieve that when I see my toes in your mouth."
"You do, to an extent."
"When she's in total control, is there anything you would not do for her?"
"No, nothing I would not do for her."
She grinned. "Nothing at all?"
"I'd have to say no."
"Would you kill for her?"
"Melissa!"
"Suck a dick for her?"
"Melissa, stop it!"
"Answer me or I'll beat you black and blue!" she roared as she took the belt by its awful handle, held it up, and looked at me. "Would you do anything she wanted you to do?"
"Yes," I said in a tiny voice. "Anything."
"And what about me?"
"What about you, Mistress Melissa?"
"Would you do everything I ever asked of you, even if it meant taking a real cock up your ass from, say, one of my ex-boyfriends?"
I eyed her in terror, trembling openly. I feared the answer yet fearing equally no answer. She looked menacing holding onto the leather strap. "Yes. Yes, Mistress Melissa. I would do whatever you asked of me. Even... even that." I looked straight into her eyes. "I suppose that's what you want from me, isn't it?"
She smiled beautifully and nodded. "Yes! There, see? The truth is so liberating, isn't it?" she sang. "Now sex between us will be so much more enjoyable. And before our weekend is over, you will take my toy from me, Raymond, and I will own you, too. I will fuck your ass and you will love it." Still smiling, she studied my face as if deciding how next to humiliate me. She lowered her voice to more conversational tones. "You're going to make love to me, Raymond. You're going to make love to me like it's our wedding night, make love to me the way you made love to my sister on her wedding night, no condom, no birth control, all natural," she beamed. "And remember, Raymond, this will be our secret."
I was fully engorged and followed Mistress Melissa's orders, and the direction of my mindless throbbing cock, The sight of her pussy so close to me made me burn with desire for her. I could no longer turn back even if I'd wanted to. As if she'd known I had been lusting after her vagina, she jerked hard on the leash and pulled me toward her, grabbed the sides of my head with her hands, and pressed me down onto her pussy.
"Tongue me," she commanded. "Fuck me with your tongue. Make it good or I will whip you in front of the open window with all the lights on. And you know those pictures I took of you the other night? I'll post them all over the internet with your name on them for the world to see. Tongue me as if your life depended on it." She was laughing a sick, demented laugh. But her words were having the opposite effect by turning me on even more. She pushed my face hard in between her thighs and wrapped her legs around my head to hold me in place. I licked her desperately, deeply, thoroughly. A week ago, I wouldn't give this woman the time of day, yet now my tongue was inside her lower lips, slurping her heavenly nectar. Just like her toes, her pussy tasted sweeter than my wife's, and she kept her pubic hairs trimmed neatly, unlike Debi. I found eating out Melissa's delicious cunt to be much more enjoyable than doing the same to my wife. Inches from her asshole, I thought about spreading her cheeks and plunging my tongue into it without permission but feared a possible negative reaction, possibly another long beating I didn't need. Perhaps we would explore each other's remaining orifices over the weekend. With all my darkest secrets now in the open, was there anything else left for me to lose?
She groaned. "Very nice. Deeper with your tongue, Raymond. That's right, mmm, just like that." She groaned more. "Flick it against my clit. Yes, yes. Now put a finger in... that's right." Her head lolled back and she moaned. Her hips began to squirm as my fingers worked in and out, hooking upward to find her g-spot. Now she was lying on her back, her head on a pillow, eyes closed, moaning mindlessly. I removed my fingers from her pussy and probed her depths with my tongue. As I did, her fingers began massaging herself in a circular, rhythmic motion, and I began to hump the bed slowly. I ducked my tongue out of her and she followed after with her pussy, the way a flower chases the setting sun. I again plunged my tongue inside her, pushing so deeply inside that it hurt the muscles in my neck. I pulled out of her and licked my soaked fingers, then slipped them back inside her, moving my face back to lick her clit. Clutching the sides of my head with her hands, she began bucking and writhing as her groans grew more animal-like. I drank of her nectar again, and then retreated. But she pressed my face back into place so I continued to service her, worshiping my new mistress to the best of my ability, not only because I liked it, which I did, but to lessen the severity of any future punishment.
Finally, she opened her legs and pulled my mouth even with hers. With Debi, this was when she handed me a towel or a corner of the bed sheet and ordered me to wipe my mouth. But Melissa was not Debi.
"Get inside me this instant! Fuck me, Raymond! I need your cum inside me!"
Using a hand, I hurriedly lined up my dick with her vagina, and at long last, penetrated my forbidden mistress. She felt divine, warm, as if I'd belonged here all of my life and had spent my thirty-two years in the wilderness, all that wasted time with other women whose pussies felt not half as good, and who tasted nothing like this woman. Her kiss was urgent, her soft tongue moved forcefully inside my mouth. Her perspiration-coated body glistened as her perfect breasts pressed hard against my pectoral muscles. I clenched her hands, interlacing my fingers with hers, and she squeezed my hands tight. As I repeatedly thrust my iron cock inside of her, I felt myself disappear and truly become one flesh with her. Her pussy was tighter and a little smaller than Debi's. Knowing I was screwing my wife's younger sister without anyone but the two of us knowing made me even harder still. I pushed deep inside of her, as deeply as I could. Her breath was hot and sultry, as inviting to my mouth as her pussy was to all of me. I feared this tiny vagina would rip open under the massive pressure I was applying, but she held me firmly in place. An unexplained urgency I never fully understood urged me in deeper still. I had to get far enough inside her to squirt cum through her body and up into the back of her throat, and I kept thrusting, kept fucking, deeper and deeper. Her warm eyes registered mine as we locked them together, and I kissed her with newfound passion beyond what I'd ever reached with anyone else. I felt lava building from way down in my balls and knew my eruption was imminent. The volcano was about to go off, a seismic event beginning deep in my groin that would inject seeds to meet with this woman's egg. With her eyes, she silently gave me permission to cum, and cum I did. I shot a voluminous load into her as we climaxed together. She screamed and cried as I jerked and grunted and emptied myself deep inside her, holding myself as far inside of her as I could while I pumped every drop of my cum into this beautiful woman. Her eyes continued to hold me, owning me to my innermost depths. By keeping my eyes open, I had seared her image on my brain. I would forever know who had fucked me more intensely than any other woman ever had.
Immediately I had that weird sense that we would conceive. She had it too.
As our passions subsided and the juices that had left my body began to be absorbed into hers, I gazed into her eyes, seeing an uncertain yet long future in them. I kissed her long and tenderly on the mouth, licked her lips and tongue with the same tongue that had worshiped her delicious toes and the bottoms of her gorgeous, tasty feet. Her eyes had not yet dismissed me, just as Debi had done when I had cum for her on command. I wondered if big sis had taught this lesson to Melissa. Did it matter?
I held her close, our hearts pounding together. As I felt myself shrink and fall out of her, I felt a moment I never wanted to leave slipping into the past. I knew I had to do this again. In her eyes was silent agreement.
"I love you, Mistress Melissa." As the words escaped me, I realized they had been true all along, despite what I had once believed in error. I felt immeasurable relief admitting what I had fought for so many years. "I've always loved you, my queen."
She smiled, arms wrapped around me in a lover's embrace. "I know, Raymond. I know."
Throughout that weekend, we made love eight or ten more times. We did it sitting, standing, upside-down, backward, and side-by-side. For two full days, we fucked like teenagers. She took me with her strap-on, gently and completely, and I returned the favor by introducing her asshole to a real flesh cock, one that was warm and pulsing, which I did to her gently and slowly. I came inside her ass twice on the last day, and she enjoyed it immensely, even promised we would do this often, every bit of it, whenever we could sneak away from her sister, who of course would always be under the assumption that Mistress Melissa was disciplining me to be a better husband.
I knew Mistress Debi would whip me when I got home just because she could. She might try to whip information out of me, or some confession she hoped never to hear. She had to assert her perceived superiority over her younger sister as well as over me. I would be tied up nude and forced to worship her in all sorts of imaginative ways. But I didn't care about any of that. I had been owned by them both, and little sis was superior, not only to me but to every female who had ever lived.
The complexities of my life grew, as did the bellies of the two sisters over the following months. My wife gave birth sometime before Thanksgiving, and Mistress Melissa delivered a set of twins the day after that. Needless to say, as soon as my divorce was final with Debi, I married Mistress Melissa and moved to another city where we now have four children.
