Family Matters Ch. 09

Literotic asexstories – Family Matters Ch. 09 by berowne,berowne
The time approached for her first whipping. In the back yard was a pair of stakes joined at the top. She stood at the kitchen window and viewed it often in the next few days.

It rained on Wednesday and she feared her exercise would have to be postponed; but Thursday and Friday were clear and the yard was dry on Saturday morning. She tingled with anticipation and a little fear.

She served the men their breakfast. She was allowed only water; Lawrence wanted her stomach empty for the beating. She knelt beside the table at their feet.

Arnold leashed her and led her outside. His father hung her up before putting the ball in her mouth and securing it. He punched her in the belly and watched her inhale reflexively. Good, she could breathe.

He told his son to fasten her ankle bracelets to the base of the poles. She spread her legs wide to accommodate the boy while Lawrence went inside, returning a minute later with a large black case. She had never seen it before and wondered where he kept it; in his workroom downstairs probably. Opening it, her drew out a short riding crop that ended in a loop of thin bamboo slivers.

He took others out to show Arnold: the simple leather whip for basic use, the “cat” with thirteen knotted cords for quick effect, the riding crop. The boy’s eyes opened in wonder; this was as new to him as to Faith.

At the bottom of the case was a small rake with steel tines ending in sharp points; the scourge. She turned white and nearly fainted as he held it up to her. It was not for today, though. She would have kissed it but for the ball that distended her mouth.

Arnold directed his father’s eyes to her nipples, now standing erect; an observant boy. He reached beneath her and showed Lawrence the wetness. His father said something and they laughed.

Lawrence began with the crop; it offered the most control and left dramatic marks that lasted for a week. At the first stroke she screamed, but it emerged from her nose as a faint whistle. The two men laughed again.

Soon she was past screaming and settled in to accept her beating. It lasted half an hour; at the end she was covered with red stripes, some crossing one another and some in neat evenly spaced parallel rows. The breasts and belly got their share along with her thighs, front and back; at one point he told her to open them and “decorated” the inner flesh.

A little more on the buttocks he said to himself, and took a few swipes; and he might let his son try his hand on her. Arnold said he would like that.

It was now midday and the exercise had given them an appetite. They lowered her from the frame. She stood up, a little unsteadily at first, and they led her inside to make lunch for them. Arnold poured her a small amount of feed; she touched her head to the floor in gratitude.

He took her up to her room. She would leave traces of red on the floor, couldn’t be helped, but she could wipe them up tomorrow when they dried.

He blindfolded her. A moment later she heard him leave and lock the door.

Sleeping was hard with her recent wounds, but by lying on her side she managed a light doze. An hour or so later she heard the door open and two people standing at her head.

Her psychiatrist Patricia, in whose office she was inducted into her present life, wanted to view her. Lawrence told her to stand up; this was even harder but somehow she managed. She felt gentle hands, female hands, probing her lesions. The woman complimented her owner on them.

She was a natural slave, he said. He was surprised it took her so long to see that; he spotted it right away.

Patricia observed they were sometimes slow to come around, and complimented him on his handling; how was his son taking it?

Quite in stride, he thought. In fact Arnold was settling into his new role. He used her rear every day now; he liked it and it kept her docile. The boy was eager to use the whip on her.

When did he plan to put her up for sale? This September, at the autumn lady-market.

That soon? Yes, it was a risk but he had to get rid of her before he remarried. If she doesn’t sell, the renderer will take her. Patricia understood.

They left; Faith used the litter box and disposed herself for sleep again. She would need to be fresh to prepare the men’s dinner and be ready for Lawrence’s use afterwards; he liked to have her before bedtime.

He was right about the boy’s growing interest; their daily couplings had become a high point in her life. Bent over the sofa with her hands bound, unable to respond to his thrusts except for little affectionate squeezes with her ring of flesh, pure heaven. Lawrence was right; it gentled and quieted her after the day’s adventures.

They made the perfect trio. She was born for submission and they were born to be masters.

She wondered if Lawrence would let his son whip her tomorrow.

He did not, but he suggested Arnold invite his friends over to use her.

Soon entire teams of athletes came around. Some favored her womb, no surprise there, and some her rear; she thanked her stepson for greasing her before they arrived.

Several wanted her mouth. That was more complicated; she learned how to coordinate her lips and tongue to please them best, and to speed them to a climax in her.

Or more often, slow them down. She loved to prolong a boy’s rise and hold him on the very edge until he could take no more and came with salty bursts that filled her mouth and left him weak-kneed.

Sometimes these outdoor games were preceded by a whipping. At the appointed time Arnold led Faith out and hung her by her wrists while Lawrence described the program. Crop, single-strand, or cat of multiple cords, western or oriental styles.

At the end she was lowered and made available. She could remember little of that phase; often she faded in and out of consciousness and only knew afterwards what places they used from a stretched feeling there.

Neighbors attended as well; they had not seen a whipping since Lawrence sold his previous wife, and used Faith with as much enthusiasm if not as much energy as the students.

They were not invited to Arnold’s lessons, though; his father wanted him to develop confidence before appearing before an audience.

On those days it was just the three of them: Faith gagged and suspended by her hands while her ex-husband showed his son the proper grip (firm but not too tight), how far to swing, placement of the strokes and other basics.

Arnold was a quick learner, and soon could melt her into ecstasy with each of the instruments. She looked forward to the lessons as much as he did, maybe more, and was wet even before she was strung up.

The boy expressed interest in the scourge as well, but his father said no. It had its value: as a form of extreme discipline short of execution, as a sign to brothel clients they could do anything they liked with her. But not everyone favored it, and it would reduce her appeal to some when she was put up for sale.

Arnold was disappointed but said he understood.