Chapter 1

by Jill Smith

I stood naked in front of the full-length three-way mirror. I considered myself to be in pretty good shape for having had two kids and pushing forty. My tummy was still flat and firm and my breasts, which weren’t terribly large, still looked respectable with a sag that was hardly noticeable. My ass and legs still looked great. They had always looked great and things hadn’t changed. I worked hard to maintain this body, I thought to myself, and it pleased me to see that my efforts were paying off.

I touched my right hand to my throat and began to gently trail my fingers down over my breast. There was a raised welt just above my nipple and I shivered slightly as my fingers traversed it. My fingers continued over my nipple and down my abdomen, over additional welts and stripes, and I smiled as I remembered watching David, his heated body glistening with excitement and perspiration, whip the black leather belt into my naked skin. The marks ran all the way down to my knees. There were twenty of them. Actually there were more than twenty. David struck the front of my naked body twenty times but in many cases both edges of the belt bit into my skin and resulted in two marks, one for each edge.

I was proud of the fact that I had received my beating without any restraints. I simply stood at attention with my hands on my head while I was given forty strokes with the belt, twenty front and twenty back. The lack of restraints was my affirmation of the fact that the beating was consensual, that I was part of it. I can’t say that I received my beating with complete equanimity though. I’m sure I flinched, twisted, arched and writhed as the belt bit into me. I know that I groaned aloud and cried. All of these things aroused David tremendously, of course. Half way through the beating, ten front and ten back, I was given a reprieve. I got to lay on my back on the kitchen table with my knees up while David thoroughly fucked me. He has a wonderful way of drawing it out. He’d start slow and raise the rhythm until his loins were banging hard against my thighs and then slow the pace and begin again. He has phenomenal self-control.

He liked to make me beg for it. Make me scream, "Fuck me! Fuck me! Harder! Please!" or something like that. Who knows what you scream before and during an orgasm.

Finally, I bared my teeth, squeezed shut my eyes, curled my toes, and said, "Uhhrghhaghh!" and had a wonderful orgasm as David said something every bit as poetic and shot his semen inside me. Shortly after that I was standing again in my former position as he sat at the table with a cup of coffee and read the paper. Every now and then he’d reach over and absently caress my sticky cunt while I’d push my hips against his exploring hand. After about thirty minutes of that he smiled up at me and said, "I think it’s time for another round, hon." I saw as he stood up that his cock was growing turgid again. It never ceased to amaze me how David could have three and even (sometimes) four orgasms within a short period of time.

I received twenty more agonizing strokes with the belt and I gyrated the same pain dance that I did earlier. We were ready for round two. It started with me on my knees, a position I’m not unfamiliar with, making love to David’s cock with my mouth and tongue. Then I found myself stretched over the same kitchen table, feet on the floor, chest on the table and my hands gripping the far edge while trying to relax my sphincter muscles for the forthcoming assault. David reached around me and had me suck his fingers to slick them up with my saliva, which he then used to lubricate my asshole. He did this several times which left a shitty taste in my mouth. Not a great taste even if it was my own shit. I felt the head of his cock poking gently against my hole and then not so gently. We had done this enough times that he didn’t have too much trouble forcing his way in. He placed one of his hands on my hip and pumped my butt to his rhythm and reached around my hip with his other hand and began doing wonderful things with my cunt. This went on for a while as we grunted and groaned and said nasty things until, for a second time, we simultaneously exploded. As someone once said, "To go together is blessed. To come together is divine," or something like that.

I turned slightly and looking in the left mirror I could see my back reflected in the right. The welts were more frequent over my ass and thighs. No surprise there. I was expecting my two children home from university the next day (so I thought) and it was apparent that I was going to have to be careful with how much of me they saw for the next week. Capri pants made that part of my life easier since David almost always stopped at my knees.

I was admiring my multi-hued ass and my eyes travel up my abused back when the reflection revealed more than my naked welted skin. Next to my surprised face that was reflected in the mirror was an equally surprised face, Megan, my nineteen year-old daughter. She was rooted in the doorway of my bedroom staring at the front of my body, which was facing her, and at my back which was reflected in the mirror.

"My god, mom. What happened to you?" she said.

I grabbed my robe and wrapped it around me with my heart in my throat.

"Megan! What are you doing here?" was all I managed to say.

"Eric and I got out early. Mom, what are all those marks? What happened?" she asked again.

"Oh, Megan. I’m so sorry you saw them. It’s nothing, really. Please don’t think about them," I said as I ushered her into the kitchen and we sat at the table on which I had been so thoroughly fucked, front and rear, less than twenty-four hours earlier.

"It’s not nothing, Mom! They looked terrible. You looked like you’ve been beaten. Whipped!"

"Look, Megan," I replied. "Try to understand. Yes, I was whipped and it was because I wanted to be. You’re not a kid any more and you know that there are some people out there that like this kind of stuff and David and I happen to be two of them. It’s consensual. It’s OK. Please don’t worry about it. Please?"

Megan didn’t look too certain. "My god, mom. This is too wild. Are you sure it’s OK? I like David. You know I do. But if I thought he was hurting you I think I’d kill him. Well, hurting you against your wishes, I mean. God, didn’t it hurt to be whipped like that?" she asked.

"Of course it did, honey. It’s something I don’t understand myself so I can’t expect you to understand, but this is just something that David and I do sometimes. It doesn’t happen very often but sometimes I feel like I need the pain or humiliation or what ever it is and I know it’s all part of sex and everything but it’s just the kind of thing that I must sometimes need to…to… Oh, hell! I don’t know! Just accept it, OK?"

I wrapped my arms around her and we hugged and she said in my ear, "It’s OK mom. I understand. Its OK."

She understood better than I thought. Something I was to learn in the near future.