A Family Matter (A Revised Version by A Reader of C.D.E.'s
Tales)

AUTHOR:  CTG's

PREFACE:  CTG's has done an excellent job, with my full
approval, of taking one of my most popular themes and re-
orienting and fine tuning it to his liking. C.D.E.


Chapter One:

The Beginning. My wife is from Rome, where we met when I was
twenty three, on my first (and last) business trip outside the
UK. She was about to complete a Master's degree in International
Affairs and had a high-profile job lined up with a major Italian
insurance company. To make a long story short, she enthralled me
so that I proposed to her two days after we met. She went for
it, but made it clear she had no intention of giving up her
career to join me in London. So I quit my job, withdrew my
savings from the bank, and finally managed (with my close to
non-existent Italian) to find a little backoffice job in an
Italian bank. As translator-cum-filing clerk, helping out with
the translation of English documents from the bank's
correspondents, and carrying out other menial tasks as needed.
Carlotta and I have been married for fifteen years. Two years
ago, she started having an affair with a Swedish consultant
(Thomas) she had met in London a few years before. Without so
much as a word of explanation (let alone an apology), she kicked
me out of the house. From a legal standpoint, she was probably
in her full right to do so, as our fancy flat in downtown Rome
was a wedding present from her parents. Without a place to go
(my meagre salary wasn't even enough to let a furnished room), I
had to beg my in-laws to let me stay at their place, a three-
story country house in a small town in the hills outside Rome. I
had never gotten along well with them, as they had always
thought I was a spineless, useless non-entity undeserving of
their exceptionally gifted daughter (she had managed to climb
the corporate ladder to an executive position, while I had
remained a low-level employee in my company). I was expecting a
rejection but, surprisingly, they accepted me. At first I
thought it must be out of commiseration for my plight, but soon
enough I came to realise what they had in store for me. Simply
put, I suppose they saw an opportunity to get back at me for
"ruining their daughter's life" (which is how they would
invariably describe our marriage to anybody who cared to
listen). And they sure didn't waste any time in making that
absolutely and abundantly clear to me. As soon as I moved in, my
father-in-law explained to me that I would have to earn my keep,
and help with any domestic chores his wife would ask me to carry
out when I was home from work. They would fire the maid and have
me take care of the house. Well, what was I to do? I hung my
head and accepted in humiliated resignation. They gave me the
smallest room in their house, on the ground floor, and right
underneath their bedroom. That first night, lying in bed, I
could picture in my mind Carlotta and her lover having the time
of their lives in our bedroom in downtown Rome. My daydreaming
was so vivid that I could actually hear their voices, glasses
clinking, soft whispers ... then silence. And finally the
unmistakable noise of my old bed shaking. It was happening! My
sick perverted fantasy of having my wife cuckolding me had
become a reality. And instead of feeling miserable, I developed
a sudden and raging hard-on: the whole four inches of my
dickette stood at attention like probably never before
(certainly like they never had the few times Carlotta had
allowed me to try and make love to her). So here I was, reduced
to serve my in-laws as a chambermaid, humiliated in every
possible way and, to top it all off, "listening" to my wife
being taken to heaven by her lover. And excited by it all beyond
words. I went at it until 3AM, masturbating furiously 5 times.
During the first two wanks the images of Carlotta and Thomas
making love mixed with the memories of my wife berating me for
my inadequacies and slapping my face hard (she used to do that a
lot whenever she was angry). Funny enough, the third time I was
beating off, a different memory crossed my mind: my mother
discovering cum stains on my sheets. In a real blast from the
past, I saw my mother's horrified expression, heard the icy
order to take off my trousers and underwear and bend over, and
the humiliating sound of a leather belt slapping the bare skin
of my seventeen year old arse. At the fourth wank, my father got
into the picture, whipping the living bejesus out of me for
failing an exam. And by the last wank my mind was a chaotic mess
of the most humiliating punishments I had ever been subjected to
(by my parents) or imagined to be subjected to (by my in-laws)
in my life. And then, laying there exhausted in the afterglow of
5 wanks, it finally hit me like a bolt of lightning: I loved to
be humiliated! Actually, what really hit me wasn't so much the
discovery in itself, as the fact that for the very first time in
my life I was admitting with myself to this simple and bleeding
obvious truth. I thought about the erections I used to get as a
youngster every time I knew I was in for a caning from my mother
or a whipping from my father. I remembered how my main concern
before, during, and after my punishments had always been to hide
my hard-on. And how, when ordered to my room after a session
under my mother's cane or my father's belt, I would invariably
masturbate. To release the emotional stress of the punishments,
I used to tell myself. I tried to remember what kind of lame
excuses I had been able to conceive when a much younger
colleague at work be would promoted instead of me, or when I'd
get a good tongue-lashing from my manager for my poor
performance ... "Hey, I can't speak the language, so there's
nothing I can do. But I do need to release the emotional stress
this is causing me, and that's why I masturbate in the office
toilet twice a day." Never mind by then I could speak Italian
far better than most of my colleagues. And how did I use to
justify my hard-ons every time Carlotta-the-successful-executive
would slap Charlie-the-office-laughingstock around for not
jumping at her orders, or every time she would make me lick her
arsehole and quim for hours on end because she wasn't in the
mood for my little "thingie"? Oh yeah ... emotional stress again
... normally released in the bathroom every night. Ah, the
amazing power of denial! I absolutely loved to be humiliated and
punished, and I had spent my entire life trying my very best to
make it so! How had I managed to delude myself for so long? But
especially, what was the point now of carrying on with my self-
deception? Why not get out of the closet (for want of a better
word), and live out my darkest fantasies? Well, one of them had
just taken care of itself: after all Carlotta was cuckolding me
unmercifully. Great, now how about the rest of my kinks? How
about humiliating physical punishments? I couldn't resort to my
widowed mother back in the UK, could I? So how about my in-laws?
They despised me already, what would it take to push them to go
the extra mile? Would they ever? And even so, how could I bring
them around to actually inflict physical punishments on me? I
didn't know how, but sure as hell I was going to find a way ...
Chapter Two: A Resolution Taken for Me (as usual) I woke up the
morning after in a daze. It took me a while to figure out where
I was. Then, the memories of the previous night came flooding
back. And my nightly resolution started melting away, sounding
so damned crazy that I even felt ashamed of myself for
conceiving it. True, it sure was good wanking material, but I'd
never have the guts of approaching my in-laws with it. I mean,
let's face it: I'd be lucky if they just threw me out without
calling the cops. I left for work before they got up, and spent
the whole day in some sort of sexual daze. I got my female boss
(twenty years my younger) berating me twice in front of the
whole office for being late with a couple of assignments. I just
hung my head and took my lecture as a schoolboy, eyes downcast,
looking at her pretty feet encased in high-heel shoes, imagining
how it would be to be caned by her lying naked across her desk.
As I got up to go wank in the bathroom, I heard faint but
unmistakable giggling coming from the open space behind me. When
I got home that Friday evening, a major surprise was waiting for
me. My in-laws were in the living room, looking like they had
just been waiting for me to return. No sooner had I stepped in
that MIL got up and walked toward me. Before I could even open
my mouth to say 'Good evening', she slapped my face hard. "You
scum!" WHAP! "B-but, w-what ..." "Shut up!" WHAP! "Carlotta
called us today. We know everything!" "E-everything w-what?"
WHAP! "Everything about you not fulfilling your husbandly
duties" WHAP! "Everything about you and those filthy little SM
games you wanted Carlotta to play with you!" WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!
My father-in-law, who had remained seated during the slapping
bit, finally got up and stopped his wife, asking her to seat
back on the couch. (Gee, thanks Dad! It was about time somebody
stopped this crazy old hag!). God was I grossly mistaken! "So
you like SM games, don't you?" I was still rubbing my cheeks and
trying to get my bearings, when I saw him taking off his belt
and doubling it in his right hand. (It can't be ... it just
can't be!) "Very well. Let's see how you like this ..." The
first blow caught me on the right shoulder. I winced in pain and
turned sideways, and the second blow landed straight in the
middle of my back, making me scream. I tried to move away, but
my father-in-law started chasing me around the living room, a
flurry of blows landing on my back. Lashing out like a fury, he
finally hit one of the pictures on the mantlepiece, sending it
flying across the living room and smashing against the far wall.
That seemed to awaken MIL. "Nooo! In the bedroom! For God's
sake, take him into the bedroom!", she shouted. He stopped
chasing me, and as I was crouching in a corner he said "Go to
your bedroom. Now!" Too shocked to do or say anything, I got up
and headed off to the bedroom without turning around. After a
few steps, another blow landed on my back: my father-in-law was
behind me, belt-marching me to my bedroom! "Now take your
clothes off and lie down on the bed!", he said closing the door
behind him as we walked in. I couldn't believe my ears. It was
happening! My darkest fantasies were really happening! In a
daze, I started removing my clothes, and like an automaton I
meekly lied face down on the bed, as I had been ordered to.
CRACK! As the first blow bit into the naked flesh of my nates, a
series of distant memories shot through my mind. I was twenty-
two again, tasting my father's belt after failing the last exam
before my final dissertation; I was sixteen again, being whipped
black and blue for sassing mother; I was twenty again, being
caned for having been caught masturbating in bed ... I was ... I
was ... CRACK! (I AM thirty-six, my father-in-law IS belting the
living daylight out of my arse, my wife IS probably in what used
to be our bed getting royally humped by her lover, and ... I
HAVE A RAGING HARD-ON!) CRACK! When reality finally hit, every
crack of the belt started translating in my mind in the image of
Thomas plunging his mighty cock in Carlotta's quim. CRACK!
Pretending to writhe in pain, I started brushing the tip of my
dickette against the sheet, dreaming of making love to her.
CRACK! And thinking that, while I was lying there ...CRACK!...
getting my arse ignominiously striped ... CRACK!... somebody
else ...CRACK!... (a real MAN) ...CRACK!... was enjoying her
favours ... CRACK! I came like a pig on heat. I don't know how
long my father-in-law carried on whipping me. My mind was in
turmoil. Yes, it was happening, but would it last? Or were they
going to kick me out? Eventually he stopped, and putting the
belt back through the loops of his trousers, he said "No dinner
for you tonight. Present yourself in the living room at 21:00
sharp. We have a few things to discuss regarding your future
stay here." Things to discuss? Future stay? All right, so maybe
they weren't going to kick me out, after all. I got up and went
to check my back in the mirror: from the top of my shoulders all
the way down my thighs, it looked like a road atlas drawn by a
drunken cartographer: an amazingly complex network of red,
angry, criss-crossing welts. Leaning my forehead against the
wall, I realised my dickette was still semi-erect. Closing my
eyes I started stroking it, re-living the humiliation of my
punishment, hearing the sound of the belt snapping on the bare
flesh of my buttocks, feeling them wobbling like jelly under the
impact of the blows. And in less than a minute I creamed on the
bathroom wall. * * * Two hours later, I was in the middle of the
living room in front of my in-laws, standing at attention, head
hung, eyes on the carpet as I had been ordered to. Fortunately,
I must add, because I really couldn't bring myself to meet their
eyes. I can't remember their exact words, just their icy tone,
and especially the fact that we did not really have any
'discussions' regarding my future stay with them: I just got
read a fairly peculiar riot act. The gist of which was that from
there on in I was explicitly forbidden to see their daughter,
talk to her, or otherwise try and make any contacts with her. I
was a sick worm, a social inadequate, and what I had done to
Carlotta had put me way below a normal human being. I had no
rights whatsoever, I was a wild perverted animal, and deserved
to be punished accordingly. They presented me with an
alternative. I could stay with them and accept to bear
unconditionally the full extent of the revenge they were dying
to exact from me; or I could pack my bags and leave immediately.
If I decided to stay, MIL said, I was to take off my clothes
right there and then, bend over, and let her have a chance to
get a go at my bare backside with her rattan carpetbeater
(Italian mamas seem to love this particular tool), just as her
husband had had the opportunity to do with his belt a few hours
before. Well, there it was! My resolution being taken for me!
Without raising my eyes from the carpet, I turned around,
dropped my trousers, and bent over to touch my toes. By the time
she was done with me that night, I was bawling like a baby.
Chapter Three: My New Life "Outside office hours - that is to
say, every night of the week as well as every weekend - you'll
be here taking care of the house and obeying each and every
order we give you. Remember, whatever we say goes. You are not a
man. Stick it into that stupid, sick head of yours. You're
nothing but a slave!" This was the opening salvo from MIL the
morning after, as she started enumerating my duties. Not that
she had to obviously as, being a 'slave', I would have to comply
with her every order by default. By I suppose she just felt like
giving me a good, humiliating tongue-lashing. From the start,
MIL insisted that during weekends I carry out my cleaning duties
practically naked, only wearing a pinafore barely covering my
privates in the front, and leaving full access to my bare
buttocks for her to whip with her cane or riding crop, as she
followed me around the house supervising my work. Terribly
humiliating as it was, it goes without saying I found this
regime incredibly exciting. In fact, my dickette would start
getting semi-hard the moment I put my pinafore on, and quite
literally harden like a rock under MIL's frequent 'supervisory'
canings. As a matter of fact, I soon realised I was doing my
very best to make mistakes or appear lazy so as to be caned as
often as I possibly could during my cleaning shifts, especially
when my father-in-law was around. Because if I made too many
mistakes, MIL would ask him to take me to the basement and give
me a good belting. What MIL didn't know was that her husband -
who had extensively cuckolded her in their prime, as my wife had
informed me once - had basically remained one hell of a randy
bastard at the tender age of seventy. It would only be fair to
assume that MIL musn't exactly grant him more than the
occasional quickie (provided she granted him anything at all,
given their age), so I guess he took the edge off his randiness
with me. "Come here!" he would say to me as he dragged me
downstairs. When we got to the basement, he'd take off his belt.
"Take off your pinafore. Face the wall." he'd order. As soon as
I started removing my skimpy garment, I'd feel the first blows
raining on my shoulders. He'd keep whipping my back for a few
minutes; not too strong, just a warm-up. Then he'd say "Now
move!". That was the signal for me to start walking around the
basement, while he'd chase me with the belt. The blows were much
stronger now, and I'd try my best to run away from him. In our
well rehearsed script, he'd invariably corner me between two old
trunks along the far wall. There I was supposed to bend over one
of them for him to really let me have it. Then the real party
started. My father-in-law would start belting my naked arse with
wild abandonment, enjoying greatly my begging and screaming. It
was only when my buttocks were a glowing mass of purple welts
that he'd drop the belt and start taking his clothes off. I had
to get up, but was forbidden to move. When he was naked, he'd
come around to stand in front of me. "Down. On your knees!" I'd
slid to the floor to find his semi-hard dick dangling before my
eyes. "Get me hard." I'd start by kissing his head, then licking
it until it was completely free of the foreskin, and then I
would put it in my mouth, start sucking it gently, and let it
grow little by little. Sex maniac or not, being seventy I had to
carry on quite a bit before he got completely hard. God the
humiliation! I loved his authority, I wanted to obey his every
command. I'd work on that turgid meatpole with devotion and
dedication. "Stop now. Turn around. Get down on all four!" I'd
obey, turn around, and lift my arse toward him. He'd kneel
behind me, and without any lubrication other than my saliva,
he'd direct the tip between my buttocks, find my arsehole, and
then shove it in me brutally. He'd wait for a minute, until I
was done screaming in agony, just planted deeply in me,
relishing his power I suppose. Then he'd start hammering away
like there was no tomorrow. I could feel he wanted to hurt me,
unleash all his anger, his disappointment at his daughter
marrying a nobody like me. His hard meat - feeling even bigger
than it really was owing to the lack of lubrication - was
bruising my arsehole with implacable energy. As he banged away
with a vengeance, in my mind I kept repeating idiotically 'I'm
being punished, I'm being punished' over and over again. I could
feel his balls slapping hard against my buttocks, his hands
forcefully holding my hips, and submitting to him I knew I
wasn't even a fucktoy for him: just the target of his deep
anger. He was raping me, punishing me. I was at his mercy. And I
loved it. When he'd finally reach his orgasm, he'd come in long,
angry, hot spurts, and I'm sure it was more of a painful release
for him than a pleasurable one. Not physically painful, of
course. It was the pain clamping his heart at the notion of his
good name dishonoured when friends and relatives would find out
that his daughter had had to find herself a lover. He'd stay
deeply planted in me, perfectly still, until he managed to get a
grip on his seething rage. Then he'd slip out, still partially
erect, put his clothes back on and leave me there, with his cum
dribbling out of my arse. Of course not all my beltings took
place in the basement, or were accompanied by "extra-curricular"
activities. Often times MIL would ask her husband to just whip
me on the spot, i.e.: wherever we happened to be in the house at
that moment. The only problem with this, though, was that
getting whipped in front of MIL got me excited to the point that
halfway through my punishment I would just come on the floor,
under MIL's horrified gaze. Well, 'horrified' to a point, that
is. Certainly not one to pass up a chance to have some "extra-
curricular" fun of her own (as I soon discovered), MIL
introduced a new regime whereby she would hold my dickette
wrapped in a Kleenex during my beltings, and have me come in it.
Far from preventing me to soil the floor, the real purpose of my
'Kleenex Pussy' (as it soon became to be known) was to allow MIL
to have some fun of her own with me. In point of fact, right
after each one of my beltings, she would take me to clean the
bathroom. There, she would lock the door and order me to lie on
my back on the bathroom floor. Then she'd hike her skirt, drop
her knickers, sit on my face and have me lick her quim and arse
until she'd come like a fountain (which only confirmed my
suspicions that she mustn't have had much of a sex life with her
husband). She would then get up, use my soiled Kleenex Pussy to
wipe herself, and then force me to eat the gooey mass. Chapter
Four: My New ... Extended Family "It can't go on like this. It
just can't!" It was a Friday night. I was on all four in the
basement, with my father-in-law's cock still solidly plugged in
my bunghole. He was just done shooting his load up my arse when
he came up with that remark, seemingly out of the blue. He
extracted himself with a loud 'plop', and went back upstairs.
Being a Friday night I wasn't wearing my pinafore, so I
painfully tried to put my underwear and trousers back on (my
arse was the usual swollen mass of purplish welts), more than a
little worried. What did he mean exactly? Had he had enough of
taking it out on me? Was he going to just let me go? From my
small bedroom that night I heard my in-laws talk for a long time
in their bedroom, right above mine. The day after, as I was
going about my cleaning duties, my father-in-law summoned me to
the living room. "My wife and I have decided that this situation
can not continue. Everybody here in town knows that you have
been living here with us for over a year now, with Carlotta
never to be seen anywhere. So far we've been telling anybody who
asked that Carlotta is on a special assignment abroad, and that
you have come to stay with us temporarily. But rumours are now
starting to spread about your marriage ... or better, your non-
marriage" "We have spoken to Carlotta. She wants to divorce you.
We told her we understand her position, but a divorce would be a
disgrace. Our name would be dragged in the mud by a divorce. So
we told her that's out of the question." "On the other hand,
Carlotta is fully entitled to live a happy life with the man she
loves. Therefore, what we have proposed to her is to move in
with us ... taking Thomas along. They'll live downstairs, and
we'll move you to the basement." "However," MIL stepped in,
"that would still leave us all with a problem. How could we
justify Thomas's presence here?" (Yes Ma'am, jolly good question
indeed) "So," she continued, "we thought we'd ask your mother
for a little help." (Huh? Did I hear you right Ma'am?) "She's
only 56, and recently widowed. It will look perfectly natural if
she comes to live here with us ... and with Thomas, her new
'newfound companion'. After all, Thomas is forty-six and your
mother is extremely good looking (as a matter of fact, it wasn't
uncommon for people who didn't know us to mistake her for my
wife), so we think we can quite easily pull that off", concluded
MIL. "We've spoken to your mother about this. She's now fully
aware of the situation, and has agreed wholeheartedly to our
plan. She's coming over. Carlotta will pick her up from the
airport this afternoon, and they'll be here for dinner." (Fully
aware of the situation? Agreed wholeheartedly to the plan? Am I
missing something here?) I spent the rest of the morning and the
early hours of the afternoon going about my cleaning routine in
a daze, trying hard to come to terms with the notion of my
mother willing to come to live with us all. I just couldn't
picture her witnessing the goings-on, let alone taking on an
active role in them. True, the idea of mother re-assuming her
full authority over me was tremendously exciting, but it sounded
just too far-fetched to even stand a chance in hell to happen.
Which depressed me beyond words, because if mother wasn't going
to play along that meant that my current living arrangements
with my in-laws would have to stop, or at least change in a way
I just couldn't fathom (how could they possibly continue having
me as a 'slave' while keeping my mother out of the picture?). My
in-laws' behaviour as I was going about my cleaning duties
seemed to confirm my worst fears. MIL had me belted by her
husband once only, but she took me to the bathroom three more
times for "extra-curricular" cleaning duties. My father-in-law,
on his part, took me to the basement twice without being asked
by MIL. It really looked to me like they were trying to make the
most of the few remaining hours of unbound fun they could have
before my mother's arrival. It was the last time in the
basement, however, that a small ray of hope pierced the heavy
clouds of my pessimism. My father-in-law was giving my arse the
rogering of its life when, stepping decidedly out of character,
he started speaking to me. Well, not to me really, more like to
himself, but making sure I'd hear him. "It'll be such good fun
with your mother here ..." (Huh?) "I bet she's a real fox our
Joanne, isn't she?" (Pardon me Sir, I didn't quite catch that?)
"Mmm, of course we'll have to get her a cane ... ohh ... says
she's never used a ... oh yesss! ... a ... mmmm ....
carpetbeater on you" (What was that, Sir?) So that was it!
That's what they meant when they said mother was fully aware of
the situation, and had agreed wholeheartedly to the plan! She
was going to join the fun! "Oh God .... here it comes ... take
this ... Joanne!" finally screamed my father-in-law flooding my
arsehole. * * * So here we were, sitting around the family
table. I hadn't seen Carlotta in two years and my own mother in
over four, and I was more than a bit nervous. Just so we were
all understood, my father-in-law outlined once again their
masterplan to save the family honour and allow Carlotta to carry
on living a happy life. "I want you to know" my wife commented
coldly when her father was finished describing the new
arrangement, "that I despise you deeply. I agreed to this
arrangement only to preserve the honour of our respective
families". "Now that I've been with a real man," she continued,
"I could never return to be with a nobody like you. And the
fault is yours: you've never been a real man. The best I can do
is to put up living here but, quite frankly, you can't ask for
more. And in any case, being the one who's had to put up the
most with you, now I'm entitled to enjoy something better than
what you've got to offer", said my wife. I saw her mother,
nodding gravely. Nothing really unexpected here. Who really
shocked me was my own mother, revealing that she too had been
with a few "real men" since being a widow and understood fully,
as well as supported my wife's position. "Son, you'll be near
her and still be able to see her", spoke my mother. "S-so you'll
be m-moving in with T-Thomas?", I asked my wife, putting on the
best contrite expression I could possibly muster. She looked at
me scornfully, as she answered using with the same paternalistic
tone she had used so many times in the past to deny me access to
her feminine favours. "You know, Thomas has stretched my vagina
so much with his huge penis that I really don't see how I could
still be pleasured by your ridicolous and permanently floppy ...
thing. So you can just forget about it right away." (And just
who said anything about sex, bitch? I mean, I practically never
got to get any sex when we were still together, why would I ask
now?) "And to be perfectly honest, with Thomas about to move in
with us and to become the official "man of the house", it
disturbs both of us deeply to think that in the past I've had
sex with you. Therefore, in case you were thinking to, don't you
dare broaching the subject!" (Oh, I see ... you want to play the
'public humiliation' game! Well OK, let's try this then...) It
came out just perfect. Sounding at my most pitiful, I even
managed to get my voice to crack as I asked "W-what am I s-
supposed to d-do? D-do I have t-to go to another w-woman to g-
get off?" "This is out of the question. I won't tolerate such an
insult! All you'll be allowed to do - and then only occasionally
- will be to lick my pussy. I know you like it, and you do it
very well. Especially after getting your ass belted good, isn't
it? Well, let's see if you'll still like it with Thomas doing
the belting" MIL and my mother looked at me with a sneer of
commiseration on their faces, obviously amused at the notion
that I would humiliate myself to the point of licking my wife's
quim while her lover whipped me. God, the humiliation! "When a
worm like you needs to release his sexual frustrations, the only
thing he can do is to masturbate. And this is the only other
thing you'll be allowed to do if you want to carry on living in
this house with Thomas and me", my wife concluded icily. (More?
Oh, all right ... here we go) "T-That's nuts. I-I have my n-
needs", I whined. Smirking sarcastically, my wife shook her head
emphatically signaling no to my statement and spoke. "Only your
tongue arsehole, nothing else". "B-But I-I just can't go back to
jack off like when I was ... I-I mean ..." "We all know what you
mean.", my own mother cut in, "We all know very well that
jacking off is the only thing you've ever been able to do in
your entire life!" (Gee, thanks Mom, I sure needed that! Oh boy
... this is getting interesting!) "N-No, if t-these are the c-
conditions, I-I should be allowed to v-visit women for ..."
WHAP! My mother slapped me so forcefully I reeled sideways from
the unexpected impact. Her quickness caught me off guard. "How
dare you? You a not a man. You have no rights whatsoever, just
stick that into your head!" my mother shot out towering over me
as I rubbed my bruised face. "You scum! How could you possibly
dream of being unfaithful to my daughter?", MIL screamed
indignantly. "If I think of all the times my husband and I have
had to beat you for what you have done to her... how dare you? I
ought to have you fetch the whip and beat you black and blue!"
Truth to be told, I was a bit intimidated by the collective
reaction, and pretended to seek protection as I cringed by my
wife's side. The person who was the cause of all this anger
being directed at me. The vigor of our families' reactions
frightened me a little, but very pleasantly so. They were ALL
against me! "Now! Now! What sissy here just said is only a knee
jerk reaction. You're just confused and flustered. As usual,
discussing adult matters frightens you, doesn't it sissy?" spoke
my errant wife with an air of soft authority. "Y-Yes dear." I
replied meekly. "I thought so. God, you repulse me! Anyway, the
question is closed." "Closed to a point" my mother cut in again,
"I don't like the idea of this pervert masturbating. When he
still lived at home I used cane the living daylights out of him
whenever I found out he had masturbated" "Very well!", said MIL
"Then we could probably re-introduce a similar regime, with just
one minor difference. When this pig needs sexual release we'll
tie his hands behind his back, and we'll masturbate him
ourselves. Then we'll beat him black and blue with the
carpetbeater" "That's a great idea!", my mother approved
enthusiastically. "After all," MIL continued, "don't I have to
hold that ridiculous flaccid penis of yours wrapped in a Kleenex
to prevent you from soiling the floor every time my husband
whips you? Unbelievable! This pervert gets excited every time we
whack him! Can you imagine? He comes in the Kleenex while my
husband is whipping him!" "Very well," concluded my mother,
"It'll be like old times, then. Remember all those times you got
hard from looking under my skirt, and I got your father to whip
you?". Jesus Christ, this was a real conspiracy! I just couldn't
believe my luck. This was the sum of all my most perverted
fantasies coming true ... ... and then some! Chapter Five: A
Family's Help As part of the agreement, my mother would live on
the third floor, my in-laws on the second, and Carlotta and
Thomas on the ground floor. I was to move to the basement, as
Thomas (whom I hadn't yet met) didn't think it was a good idea
for me to be on the same floor as the bedroom where he and my
wife would be sleeping. The space MIL carved out for me in the
basement, "happened" to be right underneath Carlotta and
Thomas's bedroom. When I finally met Thomas a few days later I
couldn't but be envious of his good looks, muscular build, and
that air of relaxed self-confidence than normally emanates from
strong, successful men. As I was preparing to go to bed my first
night in my new basement bedroom, in walked my mother and MIL.
MIL was carrying a box of Kleenex, my mother a rattan
carpetbeater. "We came to help you christen your new room and to
show you we were serious about controlling your sexual
perversions." said MIL pulling the cover away from me and
reaching into my pajamas to grab hold of my prick. I pretended
to try and keep her from going any further, but mother pinned my
arms and held me back allowing MIL free reins on me. "If I know
him well, this'll be all over in a jiffy" MIL giggled as she
began to wrap my dickette in a Kleenex and stroke it slowly.
"Here's Carlotta. Pretty and sexy for Thomas", announced my
mother cheerfully. "You know, they are going out tonight" she
added with a distinct note of sadistic pleasure in her voice. I
felt my dickette stiffen in my Kleenex pussy. As I looked over
at Carlotta, I couldn't help be awed at how sensuous and sexy
and delectable she looked in a tight thigh-high skirt that was
so revealing. My prick pulsed and I thought sure I'd soon shoot
my load. I was fighting coming in MIL's Kleenex, but I knew I
wouldn't be able to resist her manipulations long if my wife
stayed around much longer, gorgeous as she contemptuously looked
on at my pathetic struggle. What a ferocious humiliation! Yes,
if Carlotta was going to stay there a little longer I'd come
like a rabbit! She was splendid! "You like this wimp?" she said
as she twirled around in her high heels, Chanel 19 wafting
through the air (God, did that perfume excite!). "This is one of
Thomas's favorite outfits. And look at these." She hiked up her
very short hemline and showed me a pair of very skimpy split-
crotch lacy knickers. Her blond full lush bush was very
discernible peeking through. My prick got harder. I was doing
everything to hold my load, make it last as much as I could.
"You do like them don't you? Thomas does. He likes to be able to
reach over and play with my pussy from time to time." My wife
was taunting me unmercifully. "C'mon sissy, don't hold back,
show me you like me dressed like this. Let me see you shoot your
load for me. Here look at my knickers up close." As she got
closer and closer, I lost more and more ground to MIL's skillful
manipulations. By the time she got next to the bed, I spurted
into my Kleenex pussy. They all cheered me and to celebrate the
christening of my room as well as a way of kissing her
goodnight, my wife straddled my face and had me kiss her cunt.
No sooner had Carlotta left that MIL and my mother swapped their
roles. MIL ordered me face down on the bed, grabbed me by the
neck and pinned me down in position. Mother picked up the rattan
carpetbeater she had dropped to hold me still during MIL's
humiliating wanking session, and stood by the side of the bed.
"How many strokes did you use to get at home? Thirty-six if I'm
not mistaken, wasn't it?", she mockingly asked, making the whole
exercise more and more humiliating. "Since you are now an adult,
I believe you deserve at least twice as many. Don't you think
so?", she taunted me sadistically. "And just like then, you'll
count every stroke and say 'Thank you Ma'am' after each one. Is
that clear?" Unable to speak, I just nodded my assent,
embarrassed and excited at the same time. THHWWACKK! "Aaah! One,
thank you Ma'am!" SSSWWACCK! "Oooowww! Two, thank you Ma'am!" At
first I tried not to cry, but by the twentieh stroke I broke
down and started begging her to stop. Mother ignored my pleas
altogether and carried on beating me relentlessly. Around the
end of my punishment, I was blabbering incoherently. THHWWACKK!
"Aaaaaaah! S-sixty-s-seven, Oooowww! t-thank you Ma'am!"
SSSWWACCK! "Oooowww! S-sixty-e-eight, Aaauuuuuh! t-thank you
Ma'am!" THHWWACKK! "Uuunngh! S-sixty-n-nine, Aaaooooooowl! t-
thank you Ma'am!" SWWAACKKK! "Aaaooooow! S-seventy, Uuunnnnngh!
t-thank you Ma'am!" THWWAAACK! "Aaayyyeeee! S-seventy-o-one,
Aaaoooooow! t-thank you Ma'am!" SSWWWAACK! "Ooooaaweee! S-
seventy-t-two, Aaahhhh! t-thank you Ma'am!". Mother dropped the
carpetbeater, and MIL ordered me on my back. With my ass
pulsating and radiating white heat, I complied painfully. When I
turned out, I couldn't stifle a horrified gasp. Mother and MIL
were removing their knickers! They demanded the same treatment
Carlotta had inflicted on me, straddling my face and having me
lick and kiss their cunts. I must admit I was more than a little
embarrassed to perform such gross an act of incest on my own
mother. But as each one of their hairy cunts was placed over my
face to be licked and kissed, I almost passed out, totally lost
in my erotic paradise. Little did I know this would become the
official way to thank them after each "wank&whip" session.
Chapter Six: Three Years Later: Remembering The Past It's been
three years since Thomas moved in. I found myself reflecting
over the increasingly debasing and exciting events that have led
to my current situation. The first step was the relationship
Thomas and I developed, one I would call 'strong man-weak male'
relationship. That is, he knew he was king of the mountain, and
didn't have to prove anything. I on the other hand knew I was in
a lesser, secondary role and knew only that his actions would
define my limits. I was shy around him and couldn't help but
admire his assertive manner. I started respecting him for the
good sexing he was giving my wife, which we often talked about.
After it was common knowledge I was eating his cum out of her
cunt, that was also a topic of our conversations. At times, in
front of the whole family at the dinner table, he might tell how
many loads he had shot off in her the night before and then ask
me, good heartedly, how much of it did I get to eat. The first
time this happened I was a bit embarrassed at having to discuss
the subject, but it suddenly became all that much easier after
mother grabbed me by the ear, lifted me off my chair, lowered my
trousers, and slapped my naked arse with one of her slippers for
a good ten minutes, to everybody's great amusement. Carlotta,
mother, and MIL were very pleased that Thomas and I were having
such "open" conversations. Equally embarrassing (and therefore a
source of great excitement) for me was him knowing not only that
the only sexual relief I got was my 'Kleenex pussy', but also
that my arse had to pay dearly for that humiliating relief.
Speaking of which, I should mention that it seemed to cause
everybody great hilarity seeing me having a meal standing up the
day after one of my "wank&whip" sessions, as Carlotta had (quite
aptly, I must admit) taken to calling them. The women in the
family enjoyed taunting and teasing me by surreptitiously
letting their skirts slip up at the table revealing their
thighs, to then have an excuse to ask my father-in-law to bend
me over a chair and whip some 'decency' into me with his belt.
And they all laughed like crazy while Carlotta chirped: "Mamma
mia! What is this now? All whipping, no wanking?", as I writhed
under the belt. A month after the start of our unusual marital
arrangement, one Friday evening I was caught masturbating by MIL
in the bathroom (I had forgotten to lock the door). After 144
strokes of the carpetbeater from mother, she and MIL used the
incident as justification to put a sort of chastity belt on me
that would lock my dickette until they said it was timed for me
to be milked. They ganged up on me. I was held down, with
Thomas's help, while mother securely locked the device on me. I
was irate at such a dastardly deed. I spewed profanity at them
all. The only thing it got me was the worse whipping I'd ever
had in my life. My wife, mother, and in-laws all took turns
lashing me with a piece of thick electric cord Thomas had
supplied. When they got through with me, my bottom was in severe
pain laced with thick welts. While I couldn't really say I was a
different person the next day, I decided the electric cord was
just too much: I wouldn't possibly undergo that kind of physical
pain AND enjoy it at the same time. I had to draw the line
somewhere. So I figured I'd be very careful about "provoking" my
extended family from there on in. I never got rebellious again.
I had to prove to them that I'd been beaten, that I knew my
place. I didn't blink or hesitate when my wife demanded an
apology as I served her and Thomas breakfast the next morning,
that is, for my behavior the night before - which had led to the
whipping. I greatly enjoyed letting Thomas be the man of the
house and accept my inferiority. Just like I absolutely loved
the attention my in-laws and my own mother reserved me. I just
wished it could be like that always, not just during week-ends.
So I decided that it would look perfectly normal to my extended
family if my supposed capitulation on the home front were to
translate in a likewise defeatist attitude at work. I must say
it worked like a charm: within two weeks I got myself fired.
Unable to find another job because of my 'unworthiness' (as they
remarked when I broke the news), I could therefore only
'graduate' from night-time servant to Carlotta and Thomas to
full-time servant to my entire extended family. I had become
quite good at domestic household management, thanks to the year-
long training MIL had put me through since the day I had first
moved in with them. The only difference being that I wouldn't
just take care of the house during weekends but every single
day, with MIL and mother following me around and 'encouraging'
me with liberal applications of their cane and carpetbeater on
my bare ass. * * * The second step in my descent was the
insistence by my wife that I suck her wet slimy cunt after
Thomas had creamed in her. Careful not to overdo it, I pretended
to resist this particular humiliation, and gave in only after
Carlotta had Thomas administer me one hundred lashes with his
belt. With my arse a huge, glowing house of pain, I discovered
that Thomas's sperm in her gooey drippy gash didn't taste that
bad. Just so I wouldn't entertain funny ideas in that stupid
head of mine, however, Carlotta was quick to point out that the
only reason I was allowed to lick her quim was that, far from
deriving any pleasure from it, she had problems taking the pill,
and therefore rejoiced that Thomas didn't have to use rubbers
anymore when they fucked. She was happy that she could feel "his
manly meat" and be flooded by his cum. Quite obviously, this
"incident" became the main topic of conversation the day after
at lunch. As Thomas was describing in deliciously humiliating
details the previous night's chain of events, my mother
commented how convenient it was to have me serve as "human
condom", and that my services in this field could probably be
even ... extended a bit. (Huh?) I couldn't help noticing how my
father-in-law started giggling at this ... The true meaning of
her words became clear that same night. Carlotta and Thomas had
informed me my services would not be required, as they were
planning to turn in early. Around 11PM, as I was about to fall
asleep, I heard footsteps coming down the stairs to the
basement. As the light was switched on, I saw my father-in-law
approach my bed holding the doubled-up belt in his hand. WHACK!
WHACK! He pulled the sheets off me and hit me with two rapid
blows. "Get up! Get up, you lazy bum." "Now!" WHACK! Much as I
couldn't figure out what was going on, I promptly complied.
"Upstairs!" WHACK! "Pronto!" WHACK! Not sure how far 'upstairs'
I was supposed to go, I proceeded quite slowly with my father-
in-law slapping his belt on my naked rump at every step. In the
nightly silence, the blows of his belt on the naked skin of my
arse echoed line gunshots, and as I was passing Carlotta's
bedroom I heard her amused laughter. When we got to the second
floor, I stopped in front of my in-laws' bedroom, thinking the
reason I was being marched upstairs that way was that they had
decided to have some 'joint bedroom fun' with me. "Keep going!"
WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! "Who told you ..." WHACK! "to stop?" WHACK!
WHACK! "Move it!" No, not so apparently. So I headed up the
stairs again, vastly confused. What were we going to do on my
mother's floor? He belt-slapped me all along the corridor to my
mother's room. "Get in!" WHACK! My mother was laying in her bed,
wearing only a black satin, entirely see-through, neglig,e, and
didn't seem in the least surprised to see my father-in-law
whacking me in. "As I was saying today at lunch," she said
noticing the surprised look on my face, "I believe your services
as 'human condom' should be extended to include all ... needy
members of your new family", she said giggling. "Which means,"
she said swinging her legs off the bed and opening them wide,
"Kneel here, and get busy, slave!" she ordered imperiously,
pointing at the floor between her legs. She wasn't smiling any
more. "You heard your mother," WHACK! "Kneel, slave!", ordered
my father-in-law. A bit hesitant, I knelt between my mother's
legs and was presented with the full sight of her black, lush
bush glistening with my father-in-law's cum. So this was the
idea. What had my father-in-law said that afternoon as he was
humping me with wild abandonment? "I bet she's a real fox our
Joanne, isn't she?" Well, it looked like the old bloodhound had
finally caught up with the sly fox. Now, what would MIL-the-old-
bag think of that? Oh well. I pressed my lips into service, and
started sucking mom's luscious hairy cunt as thoroughly as I
could bring myself to. I was still a bit hesitant at the idea
that I was sucking my own mother; true, I used to do that every
time she and MIL caned me in the basement, but this was
different. Here I wasn't just sucking her cunt: I was sucking my
father-in-law's cum out of it, while he was standing behind me
and pressing me into action with his leather belt across my
arse. When I thought there wasn't one drop of sperm left in her
cunt, I removed myself from her bush. Mother, however, decided I
should lie on the bed while she straddled my upturned face. The
moment I was presented with the view of her glorious naked
derriSre, I worked out why she wanted to straddle my face: there
was a thik glob of cum oozing out of her arsehole. Well, you
really had to give it to my father-in-law: he sure was one hell
of a horny bastard! By the way, in the process cleaning her out,
mother got off twice. When they deemed I was done with my
cleaning duties, my father-in-law ordered me to stand up and
wait in a corner, face to the wall, while he and my mother would
resume their nightly activities. Mother, however, declared that
their intimacies would be strictly "off-limits" to me. So they
decided I should leave the room and wait behind the door to be
called in again when they needed me. On top of that, she
continued, I should be blindfolded as I was carrying out my
cleaning duties, because " ... it just wouldn't do for a mother
to have her son see her undressed, now would it?" The first time
they called I walked in, clumsily reaching out with my hands to
try and find my bearings, my only direction provided by mother's
hysterical laughter. When I finally reached the bed, I quickly
knelt between mother's open legs to suck out my father-in-law's
bountiful thick oozing load of cum. Again, when I was done, she
made me lie on the bed and straddled my face for a good ten
minutes. As I was trying to get up with my jaws and tongue
aching, I found out my services were still required. "Now slave,
take your blindfold off and clean up your Master before we start
screwing again!" I removed my blindfold and saw that my mother
had put on a dressing gown and was holding a cane. Obediently, I
circled the bed to where my father-in-law was laying on his
back. I looked at the thick glob of jism that'd oozed out of his
pee slit and hung tenaciously at the end of his semi-hard prick.
Since my mother was holding a cane, I decided to try and push it
a bit. "But mother ..." SWISH-THWACK! SWISH-STACK! "I said ...
THWACK! ... clean up THWACK! ... your Master! ... THWACK! "Now!"
SWISHTHWACK! (Oh yeah, that was a good one! Way to go old girl!)
I sighed as I bent over his heated crotch, held his dick, and
lapped up the slimy droplet from his cock head, making sure my
arse would stay well up in the air. My mind was on making sure
that this act I had performed a million times over would be as
humiliating as possible. And what could be better than sucking
my father-in-law as mother was caning my arse? So I didn't
really think about anything else as I cleaned the head of his
oozing dick with my flicking tongue. "Suck me slowly and softly
until I'm hard enough to start fucking your mother again. Be
sure and keep your teeth out of the way", he warned. Focused
entirely on what I was there for, I followed my father-in-law's
advice as the two of them started quite literally cracking up. I
engulfed his dick head with my lips and slowly suckled it as
he'd suggested. As I sucked the smooth velvety cock head and
kept the tip of my tongue in his giant pee slit, I could feel
his cock head swelling and his prick getting stiff in my mouth.
I took my mouth away from his swelling dick head fearful it
would get lodged in my mouth. It was just that big. He assured
me it wouldn't and I was able to fit my mouth back over it to
give it one last suck to be sure I'd gotten all of his oozing
semen. When he deemed his dick was hard enough, he pushed me
away, and asked my mother to lay down on the bed alongside him.
"Slave, guide my dick in for me." he said as he positioned
himself back between my mother's legs. Always desiring to be
helpful, I gingerly aimed the tip of his rigid organ to the
juicy wet hairy lips of her cunt. "Now beat it!", he roared as
he plunged in my mother's cunt. As I left, I briefly turned to
look at my mother and father-in-law in the passionate throes of
intercourse again. I couldn't help but admire the way they both
were performing. I felt a certain pride in seeing her
accommodating him so well. She was good at taking dicks: it was
obvious she had lots of experience. They soon were ready for me
again. I went through the same routine again. Before they were
through with their love making for the night (at 2AM), they
needed my services four times. I left them asleep in each
other's arms as I finished extracting the last load of fuck
juices from mother's well satisfied pussy. Her hairy mounds were
slightly puffy and swollen. At her request, I also milked his
cock head a little before I left, since she said she was too
tired to do it for him and I was already down there between
them. In a way it seemed natural for me to do it out of respect
and homage for the old man's stamina. * * * When I finally
returned to the basement, I found MIL waiting for me there. She
was seething with rage, and holding one of the riding crops
mother normally used on me. "So, was it good? Was my husband
having fun with that slut?" "I-I d-don't ..." "Bend over!"
Twenty minutes later my buttocks were bearing the signs of MIL's
indignant fury at having had her rightful place taken by my
mother. I finally heard her drop the crop. "Lie down on the bed,
slave. Face up!" Painstakingly (by then my arse and back were a
veritable study in pain), I complied. As soon as I laid down, I
saw MIL removing her dressing gown. She climbed on the bed and
lowered her still luscious arse to my face. Seconds before I was
engulfed in her derriSre, I noticed her buttocks were criss-
crossed by a series of angry welts. Mmmm, so the old bag had
needed a little "convincing" before conceding, hadn't she? As I
was dutifully lapping away at her cunt, she started gyrating on
my face, grinding her quim on my mouth as if there was no
tomorrow, and finally came like a woman possessed. She left
around 3AM, and I finally got a chance to get some sleep. The
morning after, they all looked pretty damned beat, and nothing
much happened as I went about my daily chores, with MIL and
mother not putting great enthusiasm in supervising me. I think I
only got whacked seriously a couple of times. What I couldn't
fail to notice, though, was that MIL and mother weren't talking
to each other. In the afternoon, however, the music changed.
Everybody disappeared and nobody remained to supervise me. That
night in bed, as I was trying to figure out the new group
dynamics, I heard again footsteps coming down the stairs. My
dickette started hardening in anticipation. I remembered my
wife's laughter the night before as she'd heard her father
giving me the belt outside their bedroom, and I decided that
this time I'd walk up the stairs really slowly and possibly
pausing just a bit longer in front of Carlotta and Thomas's
bedroom. I must say I was quite shocked when the light was
switched on, and I saw my mother standing there in her nightgown
with her trusted cane in hand. I was getting really confused.
Much like MIL the previous night, my mother didn't say much. She
just ordered me across the bed, face down, and then started
caning my arse like a fury. When she finally stopped I was
literally bawling. She ordered me to flip over and she proceeded
to remove her gown. And just like with MIL the previous night,
seconds before my sight was blocked by her gorgeous backside I
noticed a similar pattern of angry welts criss-crossing her
creamy nates. She had me suffocating in her privates for a good
twenty minutes, until she exploded, albeit in a very dignified,
soft moan. Then she got up, put her dressing gown back on, and
left without a word. Later that night, MIL came in, this time
not brandishing any instruments of punishment. Looking
positively pleased with herself, she straddled my face, and had
me suck her cunt clean of her husband's residual jism. So the
old bag had taken her place back, after all? But surprises
weren't over yet. After straddling my face long enough to come
twice (I must say, compared to mother she was definitely a bit
of a squealer), she ordered me to follow her upstairs to her
bedroom on the second floor. When we walked in, I saw my father-
in-law and my mother asleep in each other's arms. My father-in-
law, who was stirring slowly, turned over to greet his wife. To
my amazement, his semi-erection greeted her too. It was just
about ready to go, as always. "See slave. Real men are ever
ready" MIL said as she held his palpitating member and placed a
kiss on its plum size head. "There's enough here for all of us",
she said as she undressed and hopped into bed. MIL climbed on
top of my mother, who woke with a most blissful look on her
face. She and MIL hugged and then started French-kissing. I was
still dumbfounded as I stood there, but soon I realised I should
go back to bed and leave them to their activity. I heard my
father-in-law call me as I was heading for the door. I turned
around to see him kneeling on the bed behind his wife's arse,
ondulating as she was gently rolling on top of my mother and
squeezing her nipples as they both moaned. "Since you're here,
how about putting it in for me before you leave?" As if dazed by
his prowess, I once again guided his sturdy tool to a gaping
juicy cunt eagerly awaiting it. The new arrangement kept me
incredibly busy. With spring coming, Carlotta and Thomas would
take most weekends off, and I was left to serve three
unbelievably randy "senior citizens". From Friday to Sunday
night, I would suck gallons of sperm out of my mother and MIL's
cunts and arseholes, blow my father-in-law at least three times
a day, and get my own arse caned all the while in between. It
was my mother who started calling weekends "Three Days of the
Condom". * * * The third step in my descent happened one
Saturday morning while I was busy ironing the bed sheets,
something my wife insists on - as well as changing her bed daily
- and Thomas called me. As usual, I stopped what I was doing and
rushed to see what he needed. He'd been watching a porno video
and his dick was really hard as he sat there with his robe open.
His monstrous Viking rod stood straight up. "Call your mother
and tell her to get over here. I need some quim." I did as he
ordered me to. Recently he'd been screwing mother when she
needed some, or he needed some and either my wife or my father-
in-law were not around. Well, Carlotta and her mother were out
shopping, so I started looking for my mother but she was nowhere
to be found. Finally I decided to go out in the garden (mother
and my father-in-law shared a passion for gardening), and I
heard noises coming from one of the bushes at the far end of the
property. As I walked over, I distinctly heard panting coming
from behind the bush. When I reached it, I finally saw my mother
leaning against a tree, skirt hiked up and knickers down to her
ankles, with my father-in-law banging her arse wildly from
behind. "Go away idiot!" she screamed "Can't you see I'm busy
right now?" Back in the house, I told Thomas what the situation
was with her. He walked over to where I was. His erection looked
so formidable as it swung so stiffly. He faced me and placed my
hand on his heated hard palpitating meat. It was so swollen. I
knew it was throbbing and bothering him. "You're a mama's boy,
so kneel and suck my dick for your mama." I hesitated. That
irritated him. He slapped me, harder than ever before. "DAMN IT!
You fucking fairy! My dick's hard! Wrap your lips around my
bone! And you better keep your fucking teeth out of the way!" he
shouted as he pushed me to the floor. It was clear what I had to
do. He moaned so sweetly as I engulfed the familiar head of his
dick. I had to stretch my mouth wide as I got as much of him in
me as I could. The feel of his heated hardness in my mouth was
different this time. The other strange thing was that since I
knew he was planning to come in my mouth that seemed to add a
totally different element to what was happening. He shot a
copious load, and surprisingly I managed to swallow all his
heated slimy discharge. It was so hot and gooey. He kept me on
my knees and literally fucked my face until he'd shot another
heavy thick creamy load. I held on to his strong thighs as he
held the back of my head. I milked him for a long while after
he'd creamed in my mouth. After he'd had enough, he pulled his
softened dick from my lips and ordered me to get him a beer.
Meekly, I returned with the beer and a glass on a serving tray.
I opened and poured it like I usually do. That evening at
dinner, Thomas complained about my hesitation in sucking him
off. I saw my father-in-law getting up and taking his belt off.
Without waiting for his order, I took off my pinafore and bent
over the back of the couch, presenting him with my naked
buttocks to whip. Carlotta squealed excited "Ihhh, mamma
mia! What is this? The belt again! Mamma mia, this is great!".
My dickette got instantly hard. In that moment I realised I
didn't exist any longer. As a man I had probably just never
existed at all. I was just a submissive, masochist worm. I came
after three lashes.

CTG's


