tonguester
11-24-2007, 4:54 PM
Chapter Two
That summer day described in the previous chapter was my first real experience as a slave. The beautiful Barbara, a woman who I had always secretly fancied, in her thirties had taken advantage of me, a mere eighteen year old. She had taught me how to please a woman in the most intimate way.
I was pleased and proud to have had sex with an older woman and to have had the privilege to make Barbara come several times, but it was not without a bit of pain and suffering on my part. By bum and back were sore, and my jaw muscles ached for ages!
However, that first session left me bewildered and confused. My own mother had been part of the process and, though she had left the room at the appropriate time, had seemed to condone what Barbara was doing. Barbara was my mother’s friend after all. It all seemed rather strange and bizarre.
I had to get some answers. Rather than talk to mum, I spoke for the first time adult to adult with Barbara. I asked her how come my mother can be so encouraging of this type of behaviour. She told me that, at first, my mother was shocked, angry and disgusted at finding fetish porn in my bedroom. As expected, she had a hard time getting her head around the chosen subject material! However, after a while, she had calmed down, and the two women had discussed my ‘problem’ at length. Barbara admitted to my mother that she often had had fantasies about dominating males and enjoyed some of the content of the magazines. They had both studied the material and read the stories and had discussed them in some depth.
“You might not like to hear this Davie, but your mother confessed to me that she too has had this desire to sexually dominate a man. She confessed to becoming quite turned on by the stories in your magazines” Barbara had said.
“Oh yuk!” was my response, but it explained my mother’s apparent ambivalence to recent events.
After that remarkable afternoon, Barbara’s attitude towards me became even more friendly. She would touch me, ruffle my hair, pat my bottom and even kiss me every time she was in my house. She would do this unashamedly in front of my mother, who would just smile and tell her to “leave the poor boy alone”. I did not have the courage to raise the subject of what had happened that previous sunny afternoon. I was too embarrassed.
About a month later, I was required to stay in and look after my two younger sisters, while Barbara and mother went out for a drink. I reluctantly agreed to do this, but had no other plans that particular evening so, as I was being paid anyway, decided to comply.
At about eight thirty in the evening, about an hour after mum and Barbara had left, my real auntie Anna arrived at our house. I was surprised to see her and even more surprised to learn that she was taking my two sisters away to Stratford-Upon-Avon for the weekend. Neither my sisters nor I had any knowledge of this, but my auntie insisted this had all been planned and discussed. So, after a quick packing of a suitcase, my sisters left with Auntie Anna and I was left by myself.
I was a little annoyed that my mother had apparently completely forgotten about this arrangement, so I was not really required to baby-sit at all. However, there was a football match I wanted to watch at 10.00pm, so I settled in to an armchair with a glass of my mother’s sherry to enjoy the game.
At almost exactly ten o’clock, just as the game was starting, the front door opened and in walked mother and Barbara, apparently both slightly worse for wear on drink. I told them that Auntie Anna had collected the two girls and asked why they had roped me in to baby-sit unnecessarily. This seemed to amuse them and put them in an even more cheerful mood. After that, I made small talk but, with the soccer just about to start, was not particularly interested in their banter.
The match started and I tried to listen to the commentary but their constant chatter was obliterating the sound.
“Can you two please be quiet while the game is on?” I said.
“I beg your pardon?” said mother indignantly.
“I never promised you a rose garden” sung Barbara (a popular song that was in the charts at the time), to which both ladies giggled.
I shook my head and carried on trying to watch the football, but mother switched the TV off and stood in front of it, hands on hips.
“How dare you tell your mother to be quiet!” scolded my mother. “It is you who should keep quiet while superior women are in the room. Who do you think you are, huh?”
The atmosphere changed and I sensed something afoot. Was this a game, or for real?
“Sorry mum.” I said. I was trying to watch the football.
“Yes, but you should learn that when we are in the room, you should be quiet like a little mouse, and obey us. Do you understand, boy?”
There was a menace in her voice that made me a little frightened.
“I think this boy deserves a spanking for being so impertinent!” chided Barbara.
“Yes, I think you’re right!” agreed Mum. “Now take your trousers down boy, NOW!”
“I looked over at Barbara and saw that all too familiar smirk and knew this was to be my second session of humiliation. I was not sure if I dreaded it or looked forward to it. Had it been just me and Barbara in the room, it would undoubtedly have been the latter.
“Please mum, I don’t want to.” I resisted.
“You will bloody well do as you are told!” shouted mother. With that she stepped forward and slapped me hard across the face. The shock of the blow caused stars to appear in my eyes.
“W-what was that for?” I pleaded.
“For being disrespectful, from now on, you will obey our every word. Do you hear?”
“Yes, mother.” I started to undo my trousers.
As I undressed, Barbara asked: “Where’s the gear?”
“Oh. I left it in the car.” said Mum.
“Alright, I’ll go and get it.” said Barbara.
A minute later, I was standing before my mother with my trousers down and Barbara had returned from the car with a small suitcase. Presently, she opened it to reveal bundles of rope, handcuffs, leather harnesses, and most alarmingly, an assortment of whips and paddles.
It transpired that they had spent the evening at a friend’s house attending a “sexy lingerie” party. They had borrowed the fetish wear gear and were intent on trying it out. On me!
“Get over here!” commanded my mother, standing next to Barbara.
Both women stood before me, hands on hips, looking extremely sexy and imperious. I was then starting to notice small details, like the spiked high heels they both wore and the fact that both women’s legs were sheathed in shear nylon stockings – or at least I hoped they were stockings. I was starting to notice how attractive Barbara looked in her tight purple jumper and black skirt. She wore heavy eye makeup and red lipstick. My mother has always been an attractive woman, but of course, I never looked at her in that light, until now. She was wearing an elegant patterned dress belted at the centre, the top being low cut showing ample cleavage. I tried not to notice these details, but my senses were running high on adrenalin suddenly.
I walked over to the room and faced them. In spite of myself, I could not control the hardening of my cock as I started to anticipate what I both dreaded and hoped would happen next.
“Look Wendy, he’s getting excited already!” said Barbara.
“Hmmm. Yes, you are disgusting little boy, aren’t you?” said Mother. “I think you deserve a thorough spanking. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Disgusting little pervert!”
She sat on the couch and beckoned me over.
“Get over my knee!” said mother.
I hesitated for a moment because I considered my size and weight to be somewhat excessive to be taken over the knee at age eighteen!
“Come on! Do as you are told!” shouted mother.
Barbara grabbed hold of my ear and led me to where mum sat. She pulled both my trousers and underpants down to my ankles and ordered me to step out of them.
I positioned myself across my mother’s lap and steadied myself with my hands in front of me on the carpet. My head was hanging down and the blood rushed to my head as I tried to make sense of what was happening. I could not decide if this was for real or some big joke. However, I was sufficiently scared and respectful of my mother to just comply with her wishes. It felt humiliating having my arse exposed in such a way.
Barbara passed mum a big leather paddle out of the bag. “Yes, this will do nicely.” said mother. The first slap was really hard and made my body jerk and stiffen in reaction.
“Ooww!” I shouted. It hurt very much.
“Wow, look at that red mark!” said Barbara. “I think that must’ve hurt!”
“Christ!” I said “It hurt like hell!”
“Good!” said mother and hit me even harder, causing me to writhe in pain.
“Keep going Wendy, I’m enjoying this!” said Barbara.
I looked up at her and she was grinning as usual. It seemed to me that Barbara’s default expression was a permanent smirk.
The third, fourth and fifth blow made me try to cover my arse with my hand and arm, but Barbara seized both my arms, gripping with a pincer-like grip that, in itself, was quite painful.
Each subsequent stroke was followed by an intermittent comment from either Barbara or mother enthusing over the red marks being made on my bum.
“I think we will keep going until his bum is nice and red, then choose another weapon.” said mother.
After ten hard strokes with the paddle, mum asked Barbara to fetch the small whip from the bag. So Barbara let go of my arms and fetched a whip that consisted of was a short black leather handle from which protruded a bunch of leather strips about two feet long.
“Why don’t you try using it on him.” suggested mother. “Grip his head between your knees so he can’t move.”
Barbara gripped my hair with her left hand, raised my head, and then shoved it tightly between her thighs, leaving my arms free. She then proceeded to whip me with the whip. To be honest, it stung quite a lot, but it wasn’t as painful as the paddle. However, my neck was tightly gripped between Barbara’s knees causing me considerable pain. She whacked me about ten times in rapid succession causing me to howl in pain.
“Please, no more! Please stop!” I begged. I tried to steady myself and to relieve the ache in my neck by holding on to Barbara’s legs, and my hands found her stocking tops and caught in her suspender belt.
Barbara then immediately let go of my head and grabbed a handful of my hair, jerking my head up to face her. “Did you just touch my stockings? Look Wendy, look what he’s done to my stockings! I’ll have to rearrange them now.”
“How dare you touch her stockings!” scolded mother. “Did you have permission to touch her stockings?”
“N-no!” I stuttered.
“Go on Barbara, give him a few more!” She then proceeded to whip me more – hard and rapid. It stung so much, it brought tears to my eyes
“Get off me now!” said mother and shoved me off her lap on to the carpet in front of her.
“Stay on your knees! In fact, get on your hands and knees like a dog.”
I did as was told and looked at mother wondering where all this was leading and whether in fact she had finished with the punishment. As I faced her, she moved forward on to the couch with elbows on her knees looking at me. Her legs were spread, and I could clearly see black stocking tops and a glimpse of black knickers. As if sensing my interest, she slowly parted her legs and began to adjust her suspenders and stockings.
“Look what you’ve gone and done.” She said “My stockings are all twisted.”
“So are mine.” said Barbara.
Barbara stood in front of me and, hitching up her skirt, ordered me to adjust her suspenders straight.
I was spell bound. There in front of me stood Barbara holding up her skirt displaying her silky black stocking with frilly suspenders. She wore a pair of thin black cotton panties over the suspenders. They were tight fitting and displayed the wonderful shape of her pussy to wonderful effect. I was entranced by the bushy pubic hair that sprouted from the sides of her panties and by the glorious fullness of her pale, smooth thighs encased in smooth nylon. Here I was, being asked to straighten her stockings! Oh lordy!
My mother stood up and moved closer to me, looking down at me with a look I have never seen before, or since. It was look of cruel lust. I was filled with wonder and terror. She ordered me to do as I was told. So, with hands trembling, I gently adjusted Barbara’s stockings so that the forward, sideward and rear suspenders all looked symmetrical. My cock was as hard as rock and twitching for attention, but I completed the task set of me in an awkward silence. As I looked up at Barbara’s smiling face, she winked at me, and I took that as a signal to caress and kiss her thighs and her stocking tops.
“How dare you!” said mother. “You were not given permission to do that. Well? Were you given permission to do that?”
“No mum.” I said meekly.
Mum retrieved the paddle from the case. I looked at it in dread. “Please mum! No! Not the paddle! Please!”
I saw a flicker of a cruel smile on my mother’s face and was then given two or three hard whacks on the backside. “:Ooooww!” I said.
Barbara was facing me, grinning and, to my astonishment, (and silent glee) proceeded to take off her top and her skirt. As mother continued to hit me while on my hands and knees Barbara said: “I’m starting to really enjoy this!”
She stood in front of me in her sexy underwear which consisted of lacy black push-up bra, black frilly suspender belt, those gossamer thin black cotton cut-away panties, and black silky stockings. Her patent high heel shoes completed the sexy ensemble. She looked like a Goddess. To my astonishment, she stood close to me, whip in hand and pulled my face into her knickers while both she and mum continued to whack me with whip and paddle.
The pain was intense, but so was the degree of eroticism in that moment. I begged them to stop, but my begging seemed to goad them into a more frenzied attack of my back and arse. The effect of the pain was lessened to some extent by my face being ground into Barbara’s knickers. The sweet, pungent smell of her sex was like a drug. And she was wet! I wanted the moment to end, yet to last forever!
How she looked at that moment as I craned my head and averted my eyes to see above her slightly bulging, smooth belly, was a sight I shall never forget. How beautiful a woman looks from this angle is something I am totally inept at describing. I doubt whether a poet could capture such exquisite beauty in a phrase. The look of cruel lust in her eyes added another dimension to her beauty. I was captivated and tormented at the same time.
“Beg for mercy!” commanded Barbara.
“Please don’t hit me any more!” I pleaded. Then, without permission, pressed my face once more into the loveliness of Barbara’s sexy knickers.
“Please ‘mistress’” said Barbara. “Call me ‘mistress’”
“Please, mistress, please don’t hurt me any more’” I pleaded once again.
“I think he’s getting excited.” commented Barbara.
“Yes, I do believe he is. Davie, take the rest of your clothes off.” said mother.
I started to get up, but she put a restraining hand on my shoulder and ordered me to stay on my knees. I did as was told. I was now completely naked with a hard-on that was fit to burst, yet I was also feeling completely uncomfortable with this scenario. Surely your own mother wasn’t supposed to be involved with this carry on? Yet, I remembered what Barbara had said about mum confessing to enjoying some of the stories in my magazines.
What happened next was both eye-popping and shocking. My mother was undressing. I was confused as to why mother needed to undress and, as you can imagine, was wondering where on earth all this was leading.
My mother was soon standing next to Barbara in her underwear and, boy, what underwear! She was wearing a lacy lilac coloured basque with a push-up bra section that made her breasts look full and ample. The basque was cinched in at the waist, creating an exaggerated hourglass figure. My mother was quite full of build, so the effect was quite stunning. Like Barbara, she was wearing shear black stockings attached to the basque with straight black suspenders, but there were more of the suspenders, at least five to each leg, in the style of the corsets of old. I recognised the panties mother was wearing as those I had secretly ‘perved’ over once when I was looking for something in her dressing table. I remember feeling ashamed at having sexual imaginings about my mother wearing these knickers. And now, here she was wearing them!!! They were completely see-through black, shear nylon. The dark, thick, curly ‘V’ of her pubic hair was magnificently displayed. Framed by the black suspenders and stocking tops, the effect was stunning and drew one’s attention like a magnet.
But it was what happened next that was really startling. Barbara stood close to my mother and kissed her full on the lips! Her right hand lovingly wandered down to mother’s crotch and gently stroked her cunt! My mother moaned in response and grasped Barbara’s breasts, gently removing each breast from the cup and kissing it lovingly. They then staggered over to the couch and proceeded to embrace and kiss each other in raw, passionate abandon.
As I watched Barbara’s hand reach into my mother’s knickers and vice-versa, I just knelt there in front of them with my mouth agape. All of a sudden, it made sense why mother was allowing this scenario to develop. They were lovers!
I had so many conflicting emotions at that point. It’s not every day you discover your mother is a lesbian and into kinky sex. It made my own little revelation of last month look quite unimportant!
They continued caressing and kissing like this for a few moments seemingly oblivious of my presence. Then Barbara whispered something in mother’s ear.
“No, no, we can’t do that!” protested mother.
“C’mon, you know you want to. I really want to see him do that to you, God, that would turn me on so much. Please Wendy!”
“I tell you what, you go first, and then we’ll see. He hasn’t been fully punished yet anyway.” Another whispered discussion took place and both women looked at me, smiling. They sat upright on the couch and Barbara moved forward, opening her legs wide. Mother was gently stroking her own breasts.
“Come here, boy.” Said Barbara, beckoning me with that classic ‘come hither’ index finger signal, whip at the ready with her other hand.
I shivered in fright and anticipation. What in God’s name had they in store for me now?
To be continued……..
That summer day described in the previous chapter was my first real experience as a slave. The beautiful Barbara, a woman who I had always secretly fancied, in her thirties had taken advantage of me, a mere eighteen year old. She had taught me how to please a woman in the most intimate way.
I was pleased and proud to have had sex with an older woman and to have had the privilege to make Barbara come several times, but it was not without a bit of pain and suffering on my part. By bum and back were sore, and my jaw muscles ached for ages!
However, that first session left me bewildered and confused. My own mother had been part of the process and, though she had left the room at the appropriate time, had seemed to condone what Barbara was doing. Barbara was my mother’s friend after all. It all seemed rather strange and bizarre.
I had to get some answers. Rather than talk to mum, I spoke for the first time adult to adult with Barbara. I asked her how come my mother can be so encouraging of this type of behaviour. She told me that, at first, my mother was shocked, angry and disgusted at finding fetish porn in my bedroom. As expected, she had a hard time getting her head around the chosen subject material! However, after a while, she had calmed down, and the two women had discussed my ‘problem’ at length. Barbara admitted to my mother that she often had had fantasies about dominating males and enjoyed some of the content of the magazines. They had both studied the material and read the stories and had discussed them in some depth.
“You might not like to hear this Davie, but your mother confessed to me that she too has had this desire to sexually dominate a man. She confessed to becoming quite turned on by the stories in your magazines” Barbara had said.
“Oh yuk!” was my response, but it explained my mother’s apparent ambivalence to recent events.
After that remarkable afternoon, Barbara’s attitude towards me became even more friendly. She would touch me, ruffle my hair, pat my bottom and even kiss me every time she was in my house. She would do this unashamedly in front of my mother, who would just smile and tell her to “leave the poor boy alone”. I did not have the courage to raise the subject of what had happened that previous sunny afternoon. I was too embarrassed.
About a month later, I was required to stay in and look after my two younger sisters, while Barbara and mother went out for a drink. I reluctantly agreed to do this, but had no other plans that particular evening so, as I was being paid anyway, decided to comply.
At about eight thirty in the evening, about an hour after mum and Barbara had left, my real auntie Anna arrived at our house. I was surprised to see her and even more surprised to learn that she was taking my two sisters away to Stratford-Upon-Avon for the weekend. Neither my sisters nor I had any knowledge of this, but my auntie insisted this had all been planned and discussed. So, after a quick packing of a suitcase, my sisters left with Auntie Anna and I was left by myself.
I was a little annoyed that my mother had apparently completely forgotten about this arrangement, so I was not really required to baby-sit at all. However, there was a football match I wanted to watch at 10.00pm, so I settled in to an armchair with a glass of my mother’s sherry to enjoy the game.
At almost exactly ten o’clock, just as the game was starting, the front door opened and in walked mother and Barbara, apparently both slightly worse for wear on drink. I told them that Auntie Anna had collected the two girls and asked why they had roped me in to baby-sit unnecessarily. This seemed to amuse them and put them in an even more cheerful mood. After that, I made small talk but, with the soccer just about to start, was not particularly interested in their banter.
The match started and I tried to listen to the commentary but their constant chatter was obliterating the sound.
“Can you two please be quiet while the game is on?” I said.
“I beg your pardon?” said mother indignantly.
“I never promised you a rose garden” sung Barbara (a popular song that was in the charts at the time), to which both ladies giggled.
I shook my head and carried on trying to watch the football, but mother switched the TV off and stood in front of it, hands on hips.
“How dare you tell your mother to be quiet!” scolded my mother. “It is you who should keep quiet while superior women are in the room. Who do you think you are, huh?”
The atmosphere changed and I sensed something afoot. Was this a game, or for real?
“Sorry mum.” I said. I was trying to watch the football.
“Yes, but you should learn that when we are in the room, you should be quiet like a little mouse, and obey us. Do you understand, boy?”
There was a menace in her voice that made me a little frightened.
“I think this boy deserves a spanking for being so impertinent!” chided Barbara.
“Yes, I think you’re right!” agreed Mum. “Now take your trousers down boy, NOW!”
“I looked over at Barbara and saw that all too familiar smirk and knew this was to be my second session of humiliation. I was not sure if I dreaded it or looked forward to it. Had it been just me and Barbara in the room, it would undoubtedly have been the latter.
“Please mum, I don’t want to.” I resisted.
“You will bloody well do as you are told!” shouted mother. With that she stepped forward and slapped me hard across the face. The shock of the blow caused stars to appear in my eyes.
“W-what was that for?” I pleaded.
“For being disrespectful, from now on, you will obey our every word. Do you hear?”
“Yes, mother.” I started to undo my trousers.
As I undressed, Barbara asked: “Where’s the gear?”
“Oh. I left it in the car.” said Mum.
“Alright, I’ll go and get it.” said Barbara.
A minute later, I was standing before my mother with my trousers down and Barbara had returned from the car with a small suitcase. Presently, she opened it to reveal bundles of rope, handcuffs, leather harnesses, and most alarmingly, an assortment of whips and paddles.
It transpired that they had spent the evening at a friend’s house attending a “sexy lingerie” party. They had borrowed the fetish wear gear and were intent on trying it out. On me!
“Get over here!” commanded my mother, standing next to Barbara.
Both women stood before me, hands on hips, looking extremely sexy and imperious. I was then starting to notice small details, like the spiked high heels they both wore and the fact that both women’s legs were sheathed in shear nylon stockings – or at least I hoped they were stockings. I was starting to notice how attractive Barbara looked in her tight purple jumper and black skirt. She wore heavy eye makeup and red lipstick. My mother has always been an attractive woman, but of course, I never looked at her in that light, until now. She was wearing an elegant patterned dress belted at the centre, the top being low cut showing ample cleavage. I tried not to notice these details, but my senses were running high on adrenalin suddenly.
I walked over to the room and faced them. In spite of myself, I could not control the hardening of my cock as I started to anticipate what I both dreaded and hoped would happen next.
“Look Wendy, he’s getting excited already!” said Barbara.
“Hmmm. Yes, you are disgusting little boy, aren’t you?” said Mother. “I think you deserve a thorough spanking. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Disgusting little pervert!”
She sat on the couch and beckoned me over.
“Get over my knee!” said mother.
I hesitated for a moment because I considered my size and weight to be somewhat excessive to be taken over the knee at age eighteen!
“Come on! Do as you are told!” shouted mother.
Barbara grabbed hold of my ear and led me to where mum sat. She pulled both my trousers and underpants down to my ankles and ordered me to step out of them.
I positioned myself across my mother’s lap and steadied myself with my hands in front of me on the carpet. My head was hanging down and the blood rushed to my head as I tried to make sense of what was happening. I could not decide if this was for real or some big joke. However, I was sufficiently scared and respectful of my mother to just comply with her wishes. It felt humiliating having my arse exposed in such a way.
Barbara passed mum a big leather paddle out of the bag. “Yes, this will do nicely.” said mother. The first slap was really hard and made my body jerk and stiffen in reaction.
“Ooww!” I shouted. It hurt very much.
“Wow, look at that red mark!” said Barbara. “I think that must’ve hurt!”
“Christ!” I said “It hurt like hell!”
“Good!” said mother and hit me even harder, causing me to writhe in pain.
“Keep going Wendy, I’m enjoying this!” said Barbara.
I looked up at her and she was grinning as usual. It seemed to me that Barbara’s default expression was a permanent smirk.
The third, fourth and fifth blow made me try to cover my arse with my hand and arm, but Barbara seized both my arms, gripping with a pincer-like grip that, in itself, was quite painful.
Each subsequent stroke was followed by an intermittent comment from either Barbara or mother enthusing over the red marks being made on my bum.
“I think we will keep going until his bum is nice and red, then choose another weapon.” said mother.
After ten hard strokes with the paddle, mum asked Barbara to fetch the small whip from the bag. So Barbara let go of my arms and fetched a whip that consisted of was a short black leather handle from which protruded a bunch of leather strips about two feet long.
“Why don’t you try using it on him.” suggested mother. “Grip his head between your knees so he can’t move.”
Barbara gripped my hair with her left hand, raised my head, and then shoved it tightly between her thighs, leaving my arms free. She then proceeded to whip me with the whip. To be honest, it stung quite a lot, but it wasn’t as painful as the paddle. However, my neck was tightly gripped between Barbara’s knees causing me considerable pain. She whacked me about ten times in rapid succession causing me to howl in pain.
“Please, no more! Please stop!” I begged. I tried to steady myself and to relieve the ache in my neck by holding on to Barbara’s legs, and my hands found her stocking tops and caught in her suspender belt.
Barbara then immediately let go of my head and grabbed a handful of my hair, jerking my head up to face her. “Did you just touch my stockings? Look Wendy, look what he’s done to my stockings! I’ll have to rearrange them now.”
“How dare you touch her stockings!” scolded mother. “Did you have permission to touch her stockings?”
“N-no!” I stuttered.
“Go on Barbara, give him a few more!” She then proceeded to whip me more – hard and rapid. It stung so much, it brought tears to my eyes
“Get off me now!” said mother and shoved me off her lap on to the carpet in front of her.
“Stay on your knees! In fact, get on your hands and knees like a dog.”
I did as was told and looked at mother wondering where all this was leading and whether in fact she had finished with the punishment. As I faced her, she moved forward on to the couch with elbows on her knees looking at me. Her legs were spread, and I could clearly see black stocking tops and a glimpse of black knickers. As if sensing my interest, she slowly parted her legs and began to adjust her suspenders and stockings.
“Look what you’ve gone and done.” She said “My stockings are all twisted.”
“So are mine.” said Barbara.
Barbara stood in front of me and, hitching up her skirt, ordered me to adjust her suspenders straight.
I was spell bound. There in front of me stood Barbara holding up her skirt displaying her silky black stocking with frilly suspenders. She wore a pair of thin black cotton panties over the suspenders. They were tight fitting and displayed the wonderful shape of her pussy to wonderful effect. I was entranced by the bushy pubic hair that sprouted from the sides of her panties and by the glorious fullness of her pale, smooth thighs encased in smooth nylon. Here I was, being asked to straighten her stockings! Oh lordy!
My mother stood up and moved closer to me, looking down at me with a look I have never seen before, or since. It was look of cruel lust. I was filled with wonder and terror. She ordered me to do as I was told. So, with hands trembling, I gently adjusted Barbara’s stockings so that the forward, sideward and rear suspenders all looked symmetrical. My cock was as hard as rock and twitching for attention, but I completed the task set of me in an awkward silence. As I looked up at Barbara’s smiling face, she winked at me, and I took that as a signal to caress and kiss her thighs and her stocking tops.
“How dare you!” said mother. “You were not given permission to do that. Well? Were you given permission to do that?”
“No mum.” I said meekly.
Mum retrieved the paddle from the case. I looked at it in dread. “Please mum! No! Not the paddle! Please!”
I saw a flicker of a cruel smile on my mother’s face and was then given two or three hard whacks on the backside. “:Ooooww!” I said.
Barbara was facing me, grinning and, to my astonishment, (and silent glee) proceeded to take off her top and her skirt. As mother continued to hit me while on my hands and knees Barbara said: “I’m starting to really enjoy this!”
She stood in front of me in her sexy underwear which consisted of lacy black push-up bra, black frilly suspender belt, those gossamer thin black cotton cut-away panties, and black silky stockings. Her patent high heel shoes completed the sexy ensemble. She looked like a Goddess. To my astonishment, she stood close to me, whip in hand and pulled my face into her knickers while both she and mum continued to whack me with whip and paddle.
The pain was intense, but so was the degree of eroticism in that moment. I begged them to stop, but my begging seemed to goad them into a more frenzied attack of my back and arse. The effect of the pain was lessened to some extent by my face being ground into Barbara’s knickers. The sweet, pungent smell of her sex was like a drug. And she was wet! I wanted the moment to end, yet to last forever!
How she looked at that moment as I craned my head and averted my eyes to see above her slightly bulging, smooth belly, was a sight I shall never forget. How beautiful a woman looks from this angle is something I am totally inept at describing. I doubt whether a poet could capture such exquisite beauty in a phrase. The look of cruel lust in her eyes added another dimension to her beauty. I was captivated and tormented at the same time.
“Beg for mercy!” commanded Barbara.
“Please don’t hit me any more!” I pleaded. Then, without permission, pressed my face once more into the loveliness of Barbara’s sexy knickers.
“Please ‘mistress’” said Barbara. “Call me ‘mistress’”
“Please, mistress, please don’t hurt me any more’” I pleaded once again.
“I think he’s getting excited.” commented Barbara.
“Yes, I do believe he is. Davie, take the rest of your clothes off.” said mother.
I started to get up, but she put a restraining hand on my shoulder and ordered me to stay on my knees. I did as was told. I was now completely naked with a hard-on that was fit to burst, yet I was also feeling completely uncomfortable with this scenario. Surely your own mother wasn’t supposed to be involved with this carry on? Yet, I remembered what Barbara had said about mum confessing to enjoying some of the stories in my magazines.
What happened next was both eye-popping and shocking. My mother was undressing. I was confused as to why mother needed to undress and, as you can imagine, was wondering where on earth all this was leading.
My mother was soon standing next to Barbara in her underwear and, boy, what underwear! She was wearing a lacy lilac coloured basque with a push-up bra section that made her breasts look full and ample. The basque was cinched in at the waist, creating an exaggerated hourglass figure. My mother was quite full of build, so the effect was quite stunning. Like Barbara, she was wearing shear black stockings attached to the basque with straight black suspenders, but there were more of the suspenders, at least five to each leg, in the style of the corsets of old. I recognised the panties mother was wearing as those I had secretly ‘perved’ over once when I was looking for something in her dressing table. I remember feeling ashamed at having sexual imaginings about my mother wearing these knickers. And now, here she was wearing them!!! They were completely see-through black, shear nylon. The dark, thick, curly ‘V’ of her pubic hair was magnificently displayed. Framed by the black suspenders and stocking tops, the effect was stunning and drew one’s attention like a magnet.
But it was what happened next that was really startling. Barbara stood close to my mother and kissed her full on the lips! Her right hand lovingly wandered down to mother’s crotch and gently stroked her cunt! My mother moaned in response and grasped Barbara’s breasts, gently removing each breast from the cup and kissing it lovingly. They then staggered over to the couch and proceeded to embrace and kiss each other in raw, passionate abandon.
As I watched Barbara’s hand reach into my mother’s knickers and vice-versa, I just knelt there in front of them with my mouth agape. All of a sudden, it made sense why mother was allowing this scenario to develop. They were lovers!
I had so many conflicting emotions at that point. It’s not every day you discover your mother is a lesbian and into kinky sex. It made my own little revelation of last month look quite unimportant!
They continued caressing and kissing like this for a few moments seemingly oblivious of my presence. Then Barbara whispered something in mother’s ear.
“No, no, we can’t do that!” protested mother.
“C’mon, you know you want to. I really want to see him do that to you, God, that would turn me on so much. Please Wendy!”
“I tell you what, you go first, and then we’ll see. He hasn’t been fully punished yet anyway.” Another whispered discussion took place and both women looked at me, smiling. They sat upright on the couch and Barbara moved forward, opening her legs wide. Mother was gently stroking her own breasts.
“Come here, boy.” Said Barbara, beckoning me with that classic ‘come hither’ index finger signal, whip at the ready with her other hand.
I shivered in fright and anticipation. What in God’s name had they in store for me now?
To be continued……..