A Family Matter (Revised)

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 14012 1.51/512345