by Acton, Kim
When Rebecca finished she ran her gloved hand along his hair as if she was petting a dog. “That’s a good boy,” she said. “That was a hard whipping and you took it like a good little bitch. As a reward I’m going to fuck you.”
Mike looked across the stage at Vicki. He had never cheated on her in any way while they were married. Was he about to fuck Rebecca? Vicki only smiled at Mike and nodded her head in approval, then returned to chatting with a tall, Nordic dom who had two slave girls in chains at his feet. Rebecca turned to the audience again, “I thought he took that whipping quite well, didn’t you?” They cheered. “So I thought I’d reward him with a good fucking!” The audience roared with laughter and hoots.
Rebecca stepped in front of Mike and made a show of applying gobs of lubricant to her massive strap-on dildo. Suddenly Mike realized what she meant by fucking him. He felt terror run through him and his ass cheeks clenched together hard. The audience saw it and roared again. She pressed the plum-sized head against his rectum. He flinched. She walloped him hard with her gloved hand. She pressed into him and he felt the fullness of penetration. Then he felt the hitherto foreign sensation of the dildo snaking up his ass sending waves of pleasure into his prostate and balls. He tried to control his breath but whimpered as he did. For the first time there was quiet, approving applause from the audience. This time it was for him. Many of them knew from their own experience what he was feeling and suddenly they were with him.
Mike’s cock was getting hard. He looked at Vicki. He tried to look at the audience for the first time. They were quiet and almost mesmerized seeing his transformation from receiving pain to receiving pleasure. Rebecca saw him looking around and yelled to someone nearby, “Put a blindfold on him!” A woman with a collar trotted onstage and fastened a leather blindfold on him. He could see nothing. Rebecca increased the pace of her thrusts, “You like that, don’t you Bitch? You like getting fucked in the ass, don’t you?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
Rebecca saw his cock stretched to full hardness. “Get a slave up here to stroke this bitch’s cock. I think he wants to cum.” A dom released a slave who scurried onstage and kneeled under Mike to grip his cock with a gloved hand. The slave dutifully stroked Mike’s cock in time with Rebecca’s rhythm. “Do it faster!” yelled Rebecca. “Jerk that cock fast and make him cum or you’ll be the next one under the whip.” A muffled reply came from the slave’s heavily gagged mouth.
Mike was swooning. He was very close to cumming but he had not heard explicit permission to cum so he was straining to hold off. Overwhelming sensations filled his ass, balls and swollen cock. At last came Rebecca’s beautiful, merciful words, “Shoot that load, Bitch. Do it now!”
Mike grunted like a bull and came so hard audience could see semen splashing in all directions off the face of the startled slave. Contraction after contraction ripped through him and four, six then eight separate volleys of semen arced onto the slave and the floor. The audience erupted in enthusiastic applause and hoots of approval. Mike was exhausted but felt a curious feeling of pride where none was before.
Vicki told him to get dressed. Vicki and Mike mingled with the other partygoers. There was a feeling of acceptance for both of them. They were both congratulated more than once. Vicki said it was time to go and they left the party.
On the ride home Mike sat in the passenger seat like a limp rag. He was exhausted but strangely exhilarated. “I feel like I ran a marathon,” he said. “But I have that sense of completing it too. Do you know what I mean? I feel like I went through so much tonight but I’m so glad I did it, and also happy that I did it right. I went from being terrified that somebody in a restaurant would see my collar to being proud of the whipping and fucking I took buck naked on a stage in front of total strangers. It’s so amazing.”
Vicki smiled, “You were fantastic, Honey. I loved all of it. The restaurant. The cock whipping. The whole stage thing. This was an epic night and I’m proud of you.”
“Honey,” said Mike thoughtfully, “I have never been happier. Thank you so much for all of this.”
“You’re welcome. How did you like getting jerked off in front of an audience?” she asked.
“Oh, that was wonderful. She had great technique too,” Mike said.
Rebecca smiled wickedly, “Who said it was a she?”
CHAPTER NINE
A Severe Punishment Whipping
Over the next couple of weeks Mike still had a buzz from their night at the restaurant and private party. At work his mind constantly wandered to the events of that night. He relived all of them over and over. It kept him in a constant state of arousal and each time he had to perform for Vicki he felt close to climax from the start of the session. It was deliciously intoxicating to him.
Vicki remained steadfast in not telling Mike whether it was a male or female slave that was stroking his cock while he was blindfolded and being pegged by Rebecca. She noticed how turned on it made him to not know. She asked him what excited him so much about that. Mike looked pensive then replied, “I think it’s the element of knowing it could have been a guy and how that is completely taboo to me. But that if it was a guy it means I broke through that taboo and that is pretty thrilling. The idea of becoming totally sexually submissive in that you could use me for anything and I’d do it - even something that is a personal taboo. That just blows my mind. That whole fucking night already blows my mind - the transformation from regular respectability to public nakedness where I got fucked in the ass by a stranger while a crowd cheered and My Wife watched with amusement.”
Vicki added, “It wasn’t just amusement, it was also pure lust. Haven’t you noticed I’ve been horny every day since?”
Mike beamed, “It’s so perfect that you enjoyed it as much as I did. You pushed my limits way past where I thought they could go and now I’m happier than I’ve ever been. And aren’t we both happier?”
“Absolutely,” said Vicki, “as far as I’m concerned things have never been better in our marriage. We both seem to be getting what we need because we are both focused on what the other one needs. It’s just lucky for me that what you need is to be fucked and disciplined frequently.” They both laughed and hugged. “But do you know who’s getting ignored a bit?”
“Who?” said Mike in disbelief.
“Actually, it’s your friends. You haven’t been spending much time watching sports with them.”
“Yeah, they asked me about that. I just told them you and I were busy with a lot of stuff,” Mike said.
“Honey, I don’t want you missing out of having time with friends. We both need that. Why don’t you go over Jerry’s house and watch the game?” Vicki suggested.
Mike kissed her and and called his friend Jerry, who told him Carlos and Dave were already there and that he should pick up some more beer on the way over. Vicki was happy to hear Mike laughing and joking with his buddies and his usual trash talk of whatever team was playing against his favorite. Times were good for both of the. At least they were until Mike ruined it.
Five hours later Vicki was straightening up the house and listening to music when she heard an enormous crash inside their garage. She ran through the kitchen and flung open the door to the garage to see Mike’s car crashed into the back wall. Both of their bicycles were crushed between the cracked wall and the crumpled front end of the car. Mike stepped out of the car and hit the button to automatically close the big garage door behind him. “Are you alright?” screamed Vicki.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Mike muttered.
Vicki ran him to give him a hug and she instantly smelled alcohol on his breath. She pulled away and looked at his eyes. They were glassy and dilated. “Are you drunk?” she demanded to know.
“No. I only had a few. I’m good,” denied Mike.
“Look what you did to the car, and the bikes, and the fucking wall! Are you out of your mind driving like that? What the fuck were you thinking?” she yelled.
Mike stammered.
&n
bsp; “Get your ass into the bedroom!” she ordered.
“Yes, Ma’am,” said Mike happily, sounding like a guy who thought he was going to get laid instead of a guy who was going to be sorry.
Mike was on the bed five minutes before he fell asleep. Vicki was beside herself with anger at what he’d done and resentment that he could be so thoughtless. She wasn’t sure how to deal with the whole incident. She called her friend Rebecca, told her what happened and asked for her advice.
Rebecca told her it was a very serious breach of the stability of their relationship. She said she would personally prefer to catch a spouse having sex with someone else than driving so drunk as to cause an accident. She told her all the reasons why she felt that way and Vicki agreed. Rebecca said to wait until he sleeps off his drunkenness and then tell him why he is being punished. And she was very clear, “Vicki, this needs to be a punishment session. It needs to be something that he never wants to endure again. You need to be strong and without mercy. You need to push your limits of what you can mete out as punishment. Mike has a pretty high pain tolerance, he took that single tail whip on stage and it made him hard. You don’t want any of that nonsense. You want him as sorry about this as he’s ever been sorry about anything in his life. It’s not that he needs to swear he’ll never do it again - it’s that he needs to sincerely not want to do it again.”
Vicki agreed with everything Rebecca said. She waited six hours for Mike to wake up on his own. She knew by then he would have sobered up most of the way. Eventually, he came out of the bedroom and looked at her with embarrassment. Without a word Vicki took him by the arm arm and walked him to the garage. He saw the damage to the house and to the car, “Shit, that’s pretty bad,” he said.
“That isn’t half the damage, Michael,” Vicki said sternly. “Go the the bedroom and remove your clothes. You’re going to be punished.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” came the resigned reply.
Vicki followed him to the bedroom and watched him disrobe. When he was done his cock was rising fast in anticipation. “Oh, no,” she said, “There won’t be any of that. Come into the bathroom.” She made Mike stand in front of the toilet. “Now jerk off immediately and cum into the toilet. I don’t want you feeling a scintilla of pleasure from what you’re about to get!”
Mike had a joyless orgasm and was told to lie face down on the bed. Vicki grabbed a handful of his silk neckties and used them to tie his wrists to the left and right posts of the headboard. She tied his ankles together then fastened them securely to the railing at the foot of the bed. In this position Mike could not roll, buck or otherwise avoid what was to come. Mike started saying how sorry he was about the car.
“Be quiet,” she snapped. “You don’t even know what to be sorry about. First of all, you’re going to receive your punishment and I want you to count every stroke and say that you are sorry after each one. Then we’re going to have a talk and you’re going to receive more. Then some more after that.” Vicki opened her dresser and removed the leather belt.
The first stroke cracked across Mike’s clenched ass.
“One. I’m sorry Ma’am.”
Crack.
“Two, I’m sorry Ma’am.”
“Forty-five, I’m sorry, Ma’am.”
“Seventy-nine, I’m sorry, Ma’am.”
“One hundred, I’m sorry, Ma’am.”
Mike’s ass was cherry red. “Now you’ve said you are sorry one hundred times and you still don’t have a clue what you need to be sorry for. So now I just want you to count your punishment strokes. And you better not mess it up or you know what happens,” said Vicki.
She removed the tawse from the drawer.
Crack.
“One, Ma’am.”
Crack.
“Two, Ma’am.”
“Forty-one, Ma’am.”
“Forty-three, Ma’am.”
“I’m afraid forty-three does not come after forty-one. Looks like we need to start over and you need to pay closer attention.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” came the disappointed reply.
Vicki beat his ass with another one hundred heavy strokes with the tawse. Purple blotches were showing though the deep red. Mike was sweating and breathing hard. His voice had risen an octave and he was staining to hold himself together under the harshness of the tawse. At the one hundred mark Vicki dropped the tawse and went straight to the prison strap. She was glad to feel the weight of the heavy leather and the hardwood handle. It made it easier to deliver solid, walloping blows that pressed his torso into the mattress and send visible ripples along his body. Now Mike’s counting was more like screaming.
“Thirty-five, Ma’am!!”
Whack!
“Ahhh! Thirty-six, Ma’am!!”
Finally came the cry that Vicki had been expecting. On the forty-eighth stroke of the prison strap Mike screamed, “Tangerine! Tangerine!”
Vicki laid down the strap.
Mike was seriously moaned in pain and tried to catch his breath. Vicki’s voice was calm. “I heard you use the safe word and I stopped. But I want to discuss this with you and then I want your opinion on whether this should be the end of your punishment. You drove home drunk. You were so drunk you caused an accident that, luckily, was in our own garage. But consider what would have happened if you had your accident somewhere else. The police would have arrived and they would have charged you with drunk driving. Wouldn’t they?”
“Yes, Ma’am, probably,” he answered.
“Not probably. They would have. Period. Then you would need to get a lawyer and go to court and spend thousands on your defense. Suppose someone got hurt? You’d have gone to jail for awhile. That means you’d lose your job. That means we’d lose this house. We’d lose our credit, so we couldn’t get back on our feet for years. That’s what you put at risk. Our whole life was put at risk by your stupid decision to drive drunk instead of calling me to come get you or asking one of the guys to drive you, assuming one of them was sober.”
“I’m sorry, Ma’am,” was all he offered.
“You don’t know what sorry is because you haven’t paid a price for your stupidity. So let me ask you this. If you were in court right now and the judge said you either lose your license for three years and serve one year in jail - or you can receive more punishment at the hands of your wife, which one would you chose? Would you go to jail and ruin our relationship and life together or would you volunteer to take more punishment right now?” asked Vicki.
Mike wisely did not hesitate. “I’d take more punishment, Ma’am.”
“Fine. Then I want you to ask for more right now. In fact I want you to beg for more hard strokes and you better make me believe it’s sincere,” said Vicki.
“Please, Ma’am. Please continue with my punishment. Please make it so harsh I remember not to do this again. I’m sorry for risking so much and I know I need a good lesson from this. Please be severe.” And with that he raised his buttocks slightly from the bed to show his willingness to take what he deserved.
She picked up the prison strap. “You were at forty-eight, this one will be forty-nine.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
Crack.
“Forty-nine, Ma’am.”
“Sixty-two, Ma’am.”
“Eight-eight, Ma’am.”
Now the tears were coming and Mike was having trouble speaking clearly. “One hundred, Ma’am.”
She dropped the strap and ran her hands over his ass. It was scorching hot and rippled with welts. Vicki walked slowly to the dresser and checked the mirror to see if Mike was watching. He was. She placed the items back in the drawer and she could see him sigh in relief. She deliberately paused. Then she removed the bath brush from the drawer and saw Mike’s ass clench in dread. She let the dread linger.
She learned to wield the bath brush with authority and precision. Its long handle afforded wonderful leverage and she could aim it with perfection. It was heavy and landed with a thud that made the body ache, then the
searing pain spread with a splatter. Mike hated it. She made him hate it more. “I’m going to use this now, and I won’t be a gentle as I have in the past. If you have true remorse about what you did you’ll gladly take what I’m going to give you.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
She began to apply the bath brush but her cadence was much faster than ever before. Mike pulled against the restraints and his body twisted in agony as he yelped out the count. “Thirty-one! Fifty-seven! Eighty-three!!” His ass was growing darker shades and an area of each cheek developed a shine. His tears were flowing like a faucet and it was hard for him to speak in pace with her cadence. Again, finally, he had to yell, “Tangerine! Tangerine!!”
Vicki put down the bath brush and allowed him to catch his breath. The pain, however, did not subside and ran up and down his body like electric shocks causing involuntary contractions and convulsions.
“I’m so sorry,” Mike cried. “I shouldn’t have done it. Please stop the punishment,” he pleaded.
“There’s something else I want you to think about first,” said Vicki. What if you had killed somebody? What if my friend Carole was here today and her daughter Jessica was playing in the garage when you came home? What if you’d crushed her against the wall and killed her? First of all you wouldn’t go to jail. You’d go to prison and probably for twenty years. But the real crime would be taking someone’s life and taking a family member away from a family. What if you had done that?”
“I don’t know. I’m sorry,” was all he could offer.
“I want you to really think about that. Think about being in a prison for years knowing what pain you had caused. What would you do to take that back if you could? What whipping would you take if it could undo everything and bring a child back to her family? Would you be so quick to yell your safe word? Would you be so selfish that you’d want to stop your punishment?
“No,” agreed Mike.
“Then what should you do now?” coaxed Vicki.
