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Joanna's Story Ch. 01

By: RavenSSS



Chapter 01: Flashbacks

Dear readers,

Before writing When Lyssa met Joanna, I was terribly naive in the ways of sexual dominance. In doing research for the story, my eyes were opened. Sometimes in arousal; sometimes in complete horror of what some people can (and may) inflict on others in the quest for sexual gratification -in pure unadulterated lust. 

My research was in the realm of lesbianism and domme BDSM, and the search was limited to areas written by women for women. Being rather unworldly, I had always believed that men were the only monsters inflicting their will on women. Was I ever mistaken and astounded. Our sisters, at times, can outdo men in inflicting painful torture and humiliation on other more submissive females. 

I have incorporated much of what I've learned into Joanna's Story. The pain and suffering inflicted on women in this story may be by a male, but I got the idea from clips and stories by females. I found some of those stories on this site, but also on other online sites. I watched film clips of women abusing women as well. I have incorporated a dozen or so mean, nasty things that women do to one another into Joanna's Story. I hope they titillate you and not gross you out.

While I didn't plagiarize other stories to get material for this story, I did use their basic ideas. If you think this story will follow along the lines of the mainly nonconsensual sex of When Lyssa met Joanna, you will be shocked and taken aback. If you have not been into hardcore BDSM in the past, you may be turned off by this story. In any case, if you are easily nauseated or are faint of heart, I advise you to bypass this story. 

I realize that some of you are laughing about now. You have seen it all, and my story is just run-of-the-mill. In a way, I hope that's true and, yet, it would be sad that some of you are that jaded.

BTW, most of the women in my stories are based on women I have known in my life. Their character doesn't always match that of the "characters" in the story, but some descriptions are true to life. Of course, I can't divulge who they are, but should they read this tale of woe and sex, I'm sure they will recognize themselves.

My editor has warned me that my descriptions may be offensive to some, but I have overridden her objections, so I can't blame her if you readers shun my story.

It is possible, that in writing Joanna's Story, my research will be purged from my mind, and I can go back to my old naive self. On the other hand, it may open a floodgate of increasingly lurid tales. We'll have to wait and see. At this point, in searching through the wasteland of my mind, I find myself devoid of plots. If you ladies will tender to me your wildest fantasies or experiences, I will try to flesh them into future stories. Sorry guys. The offer is open only to women. I am hoping that you gals have some fantasies pent up in your fertile imaginations that you just don't have the time or opportunity to write yourselves. 

Well, let's start. As Bette Davis' character in one of her movies said, "Fasten your seat belts. It's going to be a bumpy night!" 

*

Ken beats and abuses his women.

Joanna's father was a 'bad boy'. His parents were wealthy and strict. It's probable that their very strictness led Ken Mackey to rebel and be that 'bad boy'. If he hadn't been so good looking - movie star handsome - and rich, he may not have been able to get away with the things he did. Ken had it all. He was six three and weighed 220; he had broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and a "cute" butt. He oozed charisma. Ken was a drinker and womanizer; he could handle the drinking most of the time, but women flocked to him, and he was addicted to pussy. He went through girls and women as someone else would go through a bowl of popcorn. He couldn't care less if he broke hearts. He told the women he slept with that screwing them was all he wanted. He told them before he took them to bed, but that didn't seem to repel them; he was that handsome and charismatic. He also told them that they had to be in charge of their own birth control. He couldn't be bothered.

Ken had three main interests in life: photography, working out in the gym, and pussy; not necessarily in that order. 

Ken's father had given him a 35 mm camera on his eighteenth birthday, and the boy promptly talked a twenty-five-year-old neighbor girl into posing topless. Ken had found his calling. 

At nineteen, he received an expensive Hasselblad camera, and sweet-talked his father's twenty-eight year old secretary into posing nude. She sweet-talked Ken into her bedroom.

The proprietor of a camera store located in a strip mall that Mr. Mackey owned became too ill to carry on the business. Mackey bought his equipment and gave it and the store front to Ken on his twentieth birthday. He thought it would make a good hobby for the boy. 

Ken's father decided that Ken needed an exercise routine and gave him a lifetime membership in a gym at the far end of the mall. Mr. Mackey owned that business, too. When Ken's muscles began to develop and he received oohs and aahs from the girls who came to the gym to watch him work out, he was hooked on bodybuilding. 

Since Ken showed no interest in taking over the family business when he graduated high school, his father added the empty shop next to Ken's 'hobby' to Ken's growing photography empire expecting him to earn his own living as Mackey had done at an early age. At twenty-one, his empire grew larger when another shop next door became empty. The newly made, three-wide shop attracted quite a bit of the town's photo business. Ken had a steady stream of young, nubile, females to photograph -- and seduce. It was fortunate that Ken's gym workouts gave him the strength and stamina he needed for his bedroom workouts. 

In addition to two studios, he had set up a bedroom in the rear of the third store. The bedroom was equipped with hidden video cameras that were in operation quite a bit of the time. Ken made sure that his conquests posed lewdly -- and unwittingly -- for those cameras. 

As the business/hobby grew, Ken hired two female assistants whom he promptly seduced. He taught them well -- both in bed -- and in photography. Ken 'focused' on the younger, prettier women who came for a portrait and left the remainder to his assistants -- except when he was able to beguile the woman into a threesome or even a foursome. 

His assistants became adept at having women pose nude. After Ken had photographed the women in clothed poses, one assistant would nonchalantly tell her to undress for private pictures that she would surely want to look at as she got older. The nude pictures would also make great Valentine's Day presents for the men in their lives, and Valentine's Day could be any day in the year.

Ken had already put the women into a state of sexual arousal. As he posed her, he would touch her here and there, adjusting her clothing and poses. He'd put his arm around her to straighten her posture. When he thought she was 'ready', he'd gently kiss her neck and the corners of her mouth. If she didn't resist, he'd smooth her blouse over her breasts. By the time he actually took pictures, her juices were flowing. She was putty when his assistant told her to undress. The assistants would lead her to the rear studio and show her where to hang her clothes. She was unaware that a hidden video camera was recording her disrobement. 

Ken would continue to touch her to 'adjust' her poses, so by the time the nude pictures had been taken, she was easily led to his bedroom. She seemed powerless to resist his seduction; often, Ken's female assistants would join in to 'assist' her to reach a climax.

Although they may have been straight, they knew their jobs and Ken's attention depended on how well they were able to perform cunnilingus. This was especially necessary as Ken didn't use condoms, and he expected his assistants to orally remove his ejaculate from a continuously lubricating vagina. If her hymen had been ruptured, the assistants would photograph her bloody pubes before licking them clean.

A special file on the seduced girl or woman was kept in a locked, fire proof, filing cabinet in the rear studio. It contained her personal history, copies of her clothed and nude pictures, the video of her undressing, and videos of sexual activity with her. Ken had posed her on the bed in lewd postures, and videos and stills of those poses were also placed in her file. When the shop was quiet, Ken and his assistants would critique the pictures and make suggestions as to how the next woman should be handled. 

Over a twenty-two-year span, from the age of eighteen until he was forty Ken photographed and seduced hundreds of women. He had the perfect set up in which to do so. 

Joanna's mother, Celia, also came from a wealthy family. Unlike Ken's family, they didn't spoil their only child although Celia had a 'problem' that did necessitate additional attention.

Celia, around the age of six began to exhibit unusual reactions to certain stimuli. The first indication occurred when Celia's mother noticed that the child's knee was badly skinned and Celia seemed oblivious to it. When her mother fussed over the wound, Celia said it didn't hurt but only tickled. 

The second occurred when Celia's mother spanked her bare bottom with a ruler for some misdemeanor. The spanking failed to induce any contrition. In fact, Celia wiggled her cute little bottom and asked her mother to "do it" some more. 

Knowing that her mother would spank her for misdeeds, the usually obedient, well-behaved child found ways to anger her mother. She would even confess to things that her mother was unaware of or that she had made up. Her mother, Anne, would pull down Celia's panties, turn Celia over her knee, paddle her with a ruler, and send her to her room. Celia would then straddle the footboard of her bed and rub back and forth until she felt warmth spread through her body.

At the age of ten, Celia fell off her bicycle, which resulted in a bloody gash in her outer thigh. She didn't cry. She sat on the front porch, wiping the blood with her finger and licking it. Twenty minutes later, her mother came out of the house, found Celia still licking up the sweet blood and whisked her off to the doctor's office. 

The doctor was unwilling to give painkillers to Celia as he had been treating her with meds for another illness. He told her to turn her head away as he stitched up the wound, but Celia said she wanted to watch. She hummed her favorite song throughout the procedure. She told him she liked the feeling of being stitched. When the doctor gave her a tetanus shot, she told him that it felt nice. He suggested to Anne that the child be taken to another doctor for observation. He wrote down the names of several doctors she could see.

Two weeks, after her twelfth birthday, Celia found herself over Anne's knee being whacked with a heavy eighteen-inch 'ruler'. The previous twelve-inch light ruler had long since given up the ghost. After nineteen strokes to her plump little ass, Celia orgasmed -- loudly and wetly, soaking her mother's lap, the brocaded cushion of the dining room chair they were on, and the deep piled carpet beneath them. Her mother never spanked her again.

At the late age of fifteen, her menses began, but Celia felt no discomfort. In fact, her periods brought her a heightened sexual stimulus. At such times, she would 'spank' her pubes sharply with her palm or a ruler until she achieved orgasm. She performed this ritual at least a dozen times a day during her period. She evidently hadn't discovered her clitoris, and she never thought to masturbate between her periods. Further, Celia found this was another source of blood. She would lick her bloody palm and/or the bloody ruler after each orgasm.

When her parents took her to doctors, they were told that Celia had a genetic disorder that was not curable. They said that some people couldn't feel anything and were in danger of failing to have serious wounds and broken bones treated. Celia's problem wasn't that severe, but evidently what others perceived as pain felt good to her. She was able to fully feel the pain initially, but it faded immediately and was replaced with a pleasant glow.

Celia's parents thought that she would always need supervision, theirs or a husband's when she married. For this reason, she was not permitted to go off to college. After graduation from high school, Celia went to work at a Victoria's Secrets store. She was stimulated by the sexy clothes but didn't know why.

Celia was gaga over thirty year old Ken. When he came into the Victoria's Secrets store, she became weak in the knees. She couldn't wait on him and whichever girl he was with at the time because she became tongue-tied. Nineteen-year-old Celia felt that she would faint if Ken spoke to her. 

One day, Ken spoke to her. She peed her pants. She ran to the ladies' room sobbing. One of the other clerks, who saw what had happened, grabbed a pair of panties from a counter and a sexy dress off a rack and followed Celia into the ladies room. Celia was standing in the middle of the ladies' room wet, shaking and crying. The clerk took off Celia's wet dress, pulled off her panties, wet some paper towels, and wiped the pee from Celia's pubes and legs. She then helped Celia put on the clean panties and pulled the sexy dress over Celia's head and down her slim body. Taking Celia by the hand, she pulled her back to the showroom. Too late. Ken had left already. The store manager called a taxi and sent Celia home. 

The following week, Ken returned to the store without a girl in tow. When a clerk approached him, he requested that she ask Celia to go to lunch with him. He had asked the clerk because he was concerned that Celia might pee herself again. When the clerk told her what Ken wanted, Celia was able to squeeze her bladder sphincter until she got to the ladies' room, but she had to be sent home in a taxi again.

Unfortunately, many women gravitate to 'bad boys'. It may be because they are more exciting than 'nice guys'. That was not what attracted Celia to Ken. It was his physique and handsome face that turned her into mush. Her chemistry - her hormones betrayed her. 

Two weeks later, a very beautiful girl came into the shop and approached Celia with a message from Ken. The girl told Celia that she would go to bed with Celia, or if that weren't Celia's orientation, Ken would meet Celia at his photo studio's back room. Celia was shocked and turned her down on both counts. The girl left, shaking her head. 

A few weeks later, the gorgeous girl returned and asked Celia if she wanted to go to bed with both her and Ken. Celia almost said yes because she was so infatuated with Ken, but she regretfully said no.

A month later, Celia was in bed with Ken having her brains fucked out. The gorgeous girl, now naked, waited until Ken pulled out of Celia's body. Then she sucked Ken's penis, cleaning him off and downing any residual semen. Celia was too weak to move and nearly comatose. 

The beautiful nude girl, Karla, sucked and licked the blood of Celia's broken hymen and Ken's semen from Celia's vagina. She then performed cunnilingus until Celia orgasmed several times. Then she drove her tongue deep into Celia as far as her tongue would reach. She kept this up until she had cleaned out Celia's juices and residual blood from the torn hymen. She finished by licking Celia's outer genitals clean and dry. This was the price that this straight girl had to pay to be Ken's mistress. 

Usually, Ken would sleep with a girl only once or twice, -or again, if she agreed to a threesome and to do what Karla had just done to Celia. Then he'd move on to his next conquest. His motto, one that he had picked up from a British tabloid, was: "Fresh cunt, fresh courage." He especially enjoyed "popping cherries". Karla was willing to demean herself to get Ken's attention and had performed this service several times with different girls. She was willing to do so as often as Ken wanted. She had even swallowed (so to speak) her pride and smiled when he called her 'cunt licker' even when his --or her- friends were nearby. Ken was addicted to pussy; however, Karla was addicted to Ken. She refused him nothing.

Ken disliked the fact that his addiction to pussy ruled him. His lack of control enraged him, and he took out that rage on the women he bedded. He was cruel --but despite the brutality that he employed, women put up with it just to be with him. His favorite ploy was to kiss her throat, the corners of her mouth, and her lips with tender passion. After having her disrobe, he'd kiss, fondle, pet, caress, and play with the girl's body and breasts until she was limp with desire -- on fire. However, he never kissed or licked her genitals. If she indicated that she would like that, he told her, "That's women's work. Find a woman to go down on you." He would constantly stick a large finger into her to test vaginal lubrication but was careful not to damage her hymen if he found one. He had other plans for that dainty morsel.

He would then tell the girl that the foreplay had been for her, but he needed other stimulation for his arousal. He would get her to agree -- promise -- that she would allow him his form of foreplay. By this time, the poor girl was so gripped by sexual desire that she would have agreed to anything. He then had her place herself spread-eagled on the bed and told her that if she moved her hands, arms, or legs even a fraction of an inch, he would immediately tell her to get dressed and leave. He had, in the past, thought of tying the girl to the bed, but forcing her to remain still of her own volition was more diabolical. When the girl was shivering in anticipation believing he was about to stimulate her in new ways, Ken set about to punish her because his need for pussy dominated his life. 

Ken would take the girl's lubrication soaked panties and place them in a drawer of his nightstand. From that same drawer, he'd take the panties of the girl he'd last used, fold them, dampen the crotch with a few drops of water, and shove them into the girl's mouth, crotch against her tongue. He'd tell her he'd remove them if she could tell from the taste to whom they belonged. The girl would gag and try to spit them out, but Ken would laugh and tell her to suck on them. If the girl continued trying to eject them, he'd tape them into her mouth. Her slobber would wet the panties and 'enhance' the taste; of course, she couldn't name the owner unless she had licked and memorized the vaginal taste of half the girls in town; the cotton or gauzy material would muffle her future screams.

Ken would caress her clitoris tenderly until it was 'standing at attention'. Then he would use his thumb and middle finger to snap it gently. Ken's hands were large and strong. He could inflict a lot of pain with the snaps. The girl might flinch but would hold still as she had promised to do. He'd tell her to count out loud each of a dozen snaps that he was about to bestow upon her. The first of the dozen was harsh and the girl would arch her back and maybe yelp, but she would dutifully say "one" through the panty gag and strive to remain immobile. The next eleven were even more brutal. She would scream, her back would arch, her legs would tremble, her hands would clench, her knees would point inward -- desperate to close and stop the pain, but she would have counted each of the snaps -- and she would not otherwise have moved. 

After the dozen finger snaps to her clit, Ken moved to her nipples. He would take them between his thumb and the second knuckle joint of his index finger and begin increasing pressure until the girl was sobbing and pleading with him to stop. She would not have moved her hands to her breasts to foil him. As if that weren't enough, he'd twist her nipples sometimes 180 degrees - or more if he thought they wouldn't tear off. At this point, the poor girl would be almost unconscious from pain.


Joanna's Story Ch. 01



Ken was now 'ready for action' and would plunge into her vaginal canal and brutally rape her. If she were virgin, he'd place his penis against her hymen and slowly push millimeter by millimeter until it burst. Her tears and cries of pain were what he was after.

After coming, he'd demand that she lick and suck 'her mess' from his penis. It was often a bloody mess. Occasionally, he'd insist that she continue sucking him until he came again, but it was unusual that he could, as he was usually spent from the 'ritual'. He never tried to bring her to orgasm. Her needs were not his concern. At times the girl would orgasm. If Ken's penis happened to brush her bruised and sensitive clitoris, and if the girl were masochistic and had been aroused by Ken's treatment of her, she might orgasm. 

If it were her first visit, he would tell the girl to get dressed and leave. Because her clitoris and loins hurt from his cruelty, the girl would often walk in a strange manner. This greatly amused Ken, and he would watch her awkward steps until she was in the cab to take her home. 

Ken hadn't been finished humiliating the girl. Just before he pushed her out the door, he would ask her if she wanted to return. If she said yes, he would hand her a plastic container almost two inches wide and two inches deep. He would have her stick her tongue in the tube and try to reach the bottom, which, in most cases, she couldn't do. He told her to buy some chocolate or other syrup and coat the sides and bottom of the container. He told her that when she could lick the tube clean, she could call him, and he would agree to another tryst. If she were able to accomplish what he suggested, he'd set a date for her to come to his loft apartment. When the girl arrived, there would always be another woman, DeeDee or another of his witch-mates, waiting - in anticipation. Ken would have the girl perform the 'trick' with the tube and syrup. When he was amused and satisfied that she could do it well, he told her of the next phase of the game. The newly accomplished feat would be performed over and over -- with the DeeDee's vagina substituting for the plastic tube.

If the girl agreed to return after this abusive treatment, Ken had another 'trick' up his sleeve. He would tell her she had to plead to be beaten. She was unaware that hidden video cameras were taping her plea and subsequent beating. This tape, the Mackey name and money would ensure that Ken was safe from any attempted legal action. 

He would shackle the girl's wrists, attach the shackles to a rope hooked to an eyebolt in the ceiling, and haul her up until her feet were off the floor. Ken would then beat her a dozen times with a leather whip over her bottom and thighs and demanded that she count each stroke. If she missed a count, it gave Ken a reason to start over again. If the girl returned a third time, he would beat her a dozen times with a different whip. He'd repeat the dozen-stroke procedure with a sjambok, then a riding crop, and lastly, a thin stick -- a cane -- each time she returned. All of these beatings were 'dedicated' to her buttocks and thighs that ended up black and blue with welts, bruises, and stripes. The strokes left her in severe pain. By the time he let her down, she was usually too weak to walk. Ken would lay her on the bed and apply ointment to the pained areas. He would give her a sedative and let her sleep for a few hours. 

When the girl awoke, stiff and still in pain, Ken would have a taxi take her home. Usually it was the same taxi that brought her to his loft. If at any time the hapless girl had hesitated doing something he demanded or wasn't adept enough to perform it to his satisfaction, Ken would send her home naked. He would put all her clothes, with the exception of her shoes, in a bag and give it to the cabby. The cab driver would be instructed to give her the clothes when she reached home but not to let her dress in the cab. She would have to make a mad dash to her house or apartment, naked, holding the bag of clothing. If she spent future evenings with Ken, she made sure she didn't hesitate to do his bidding to the best of her ability. That wasn't always enough for Ken and she found herself going home naked again.

Ken instructed her not to take the other woman's panties out of her mouth until she got home. He didn't want her talking to the cab driver. Ken would tell the driver to make sure she didn't remove the panties. Enjoying the girl's discomfort and nudity and wanting Ken's business and largesse, the driver always complied with Ken's instructions. Ken also told the driver to make sure she made it inside the house before he drove off. He had received a hundred dollars for the delivery that was usually only a few miles. The Mackey Cab Company drivers took turns driving Ken's women back and forth; however, they often fought each other for the privilege.

You would think that these girls would hate Ken for his brutality and lack of concern, but that rarely happened. They just pined for him and, after recovering from the pain, bruising, and humiliation he had inflicted, would eagerly wait for his request for another bout of sex -- and pain -- and indignities.

Back to Ken and Celia's intercourse, Celia, still on cloud nine, was only vaguely aware of Karla's ministrations -- and completely unaware that her birth control had failed. She had used spermicidal foam that a druggist had suggested. It evidently hadn't slain all of Ken's sperm. Probably, her hymen had prevented the spermicide from going far enough into her vagina. Celia, having had sex for the first time, would find herself pregnant. 

When Celia's father found out that his precious daughter was pregnant by Ken Mackey, he went berserk. He went to Ken's father with whom he did business and told him that Ken had better make an honest woman of his naïve daughter. If Ken didn't, he would pull all of his considerable business away from Mackey's factories. 

Mackey didn't like to be threatened; however, after mulling over the situation, he thought this might be a good way to force his son to straighten up, stop his carousing, come to work for his father, and settle down to family life. He liked this stroke of fate.

========

I am still working on Celia's Wedding Night / Celia's Marriage (the next flashbacks). If you're still interested in this continuing saga, let me know, and I'll hurry it along. 

I refrain from the continuous use of strong sexual terms lest they lose their 'bite' after a while. I prefer to use tame sexual terms, and then when a crude term IS used, it can come almost as a surprise like the punch line of a joke. When I've read a story that has crude sex terms line after line, I find myself skipping over the repetition. Let's face it; I'm a bit prudish in spite of the nature of these stories.

If the blood licking brings gasps, it isn't my demented imagination that contrived it. Some years ago, I had a friend who confided in me that she looked forward to 'that time of the month'. She actually told me more, but I am too, ahem, shy to divulge that just now. Maybe when I get to know you better... I often wonder if there is anything that someone, somewhere won't attempt or doesn't enjoy. In the past, I have observed young students picking their noses and ... I'm too squeamish to finish the thought. BDSM is easier to contemplate.

I hope that the BDSM of these flashbacks is of interest to both women and men. 

Ladies, do I detect a shiver of disgust (or a thrill of excitement and arousal) when you read of Ken's ill treatment of our sisters?

One thing I requested after the first main chapter was that you let me know if you are female and your sexual orientation. You may remain anonymous if you so desire, but I really have a need to know that information. If anonymous or not, you may indicate by: F/S (female/straight) or F/L (female/lesbian) or F/Bi (female/bisexual). It's important for me to know so as to keep the stories along what I believe are strictly 'female' lines. If you don't make that response, I will assume you are male. I realize that I probably won't get enough responses to form statistics, but...

More feedback please. More emails. They make writing worthwhile.

=====

I assume that some readers will want to know what a sjambok is. So that they won't have to look it up, I'm adding an online definition to this endnote. I find it interesting that it is sometimes made from the penis of a hippo or rhino. Could it be that our boy, Ken, is using it as an extension of his own rather lengthy, ahem, accoutrement?

The sjambok is the traditional heavy leather whip of South Africa. It is traditionally made from an adult hippopotamus (or rhinoceros) hide, or from the penis of either species. 

A strip of the beast's hide is cut and carved into a strip 3 to 5 feet (0.9 to 1.5 m) long, tapering from about 1 inch (25 mm) thick at the handle to about 3/8" (9 mm) at the tip.

This strip is then rolled until reaching a near circular form. The resulting whip is flexible and very tough. 



Joanna's Story Ch. 02



Chapter 02

Celia's Wedding Night

Two weeks before their wedding, Ken approached Celia. This was the first time Celia had seen Ken since her impregnation. She was immediately aroused, but held her sphincter tightly closed. She had been fantasizing about their wedding night and came close to orgasm when Ken came near her.

"Celia," glared Ken, "I am so damned mad at you that I can't see straight. You have to tell our parents that the baby isn't mine."

"But Ken, that time with you was the only time I've ever had sex." She remembered that Karla had licked her vagina and added. "With a man."

"Okay, Celia. This is the way it's going to go down {so to speak} if you insist on going through with this. I can't go against my father or he'll cut off my allowance, but know this. I will NOT stop having sex with other girls, and I WILL use you as a sex slave. I will force you to do things you've never even heard of. I'll punish you any time you don't do exactly as I say. I will probably beat you when I think about how you entrapped me. Do you still want to go through with this charade?"

Celia was actually turned on by Ken's threat and said, "Ken, I'm deeply in love with you, and I'm willing to accept anything to be married to you." Ken stormed off.

Two weeks later, after they said their vows and the minister said they could kiss, Ken shoved his tongue deep into Celia's mouth. Her bridal gown had to be dry-cleaned.

After the wedding reception, Ken and Celia drove to their new home. Their parents had pitched in and bought them a brand new 3200 square foot house, 4 bedrooms, family room, 3 baths, and a large unfinished basement. Attached to the side of the house were a three-car garage and a small workshop. The house, a ranch style, was 40 feet by 80 feet, with the master bedroom and a bed/sitting room on one side of the house and two bedrooms on the other. There was a bathroom between each pair of bedrooms and one in the basement. Both Celia and Ken had been raised in large, luxurious homes, so this house seemed normal to them. The house was two miles from the edge of town in the quiet, secluded suburbs.

Ken grabbed Celia's wrist and half dragged her into a bedroom next to the Master Bedroom. Celia was so excited with the idea that Ken was going to have intercourse with her that she didn't notice that they weren't in the big bedroom. Ken practically tore off Celia's honeymoon dress and her Victoria's Secrets underclothes. She helped him tear them off. He lifted her and placed her on the bed. He cuffed her wrists and fastened them to the lower part of the high bedposts behind her. He then cuffed her ankles and pulling her legs back until they were over her head and fastened them to the same bedposts behind her. Celia was so sexually aroused that she liked this position. It opened up her body to whatever Ken had in mind. She was cooing in anticipation.

Ken pulled his belt off, doubled it and walked to the foot of the bed. The sight of Celia's exposed bottom and genitals aroused him so much that he had to free his erection, as his pants were so tight. 

The first blow of the belt landed directly on Celia's pubes. She screamed with shock and pain when the belt struck; however, a fraction of a second after the strike, she experienced a warm, delicious glow that filled her loins. The pleasure was so intense that pain no longer existed. In fact, the pleasure was more difficult to bear than the pain. Each time that Ken hit her with the belt, she reacted in the same way: a shriek of pain, a groan, and then a beatific look swept over her face. She was lapping it up {so to speak}. Ken kept up the beating, hoping to make her cry or at least make her scream for him to stop. His arm became tired before he accomplished that goal. When he realized that her thighs and genitals were bright red, he was afraid to continue lest he cause permanent damage. 

He pulled off his pants and the rest of his clothes and climbed onto the bed. Celia had her eyes closed and had a blissful smile on her face. Ken mistook it for abject pain and grinned. He lowered himself onto her trussed body and pushed his penis into her. 

Celia's vaginal secretions - her lubrication- filled her canal to overflowing; however, her position -- her legs up in the air -- tilted her vagina upward and kept the fluid from spilling over. Ken's entrance was like a plumber's plunger and it forced all that fluid up and out of her. It drenched his lower body, his pubic hair, and her pubic hair.

He swore and wondered if this girl ever stopped pouring fluids from her groin. He went to the bathroom, wiped himself with a towel, came back and wiped Celia's crotch. 

He was unaware that if he had struck her between the legs one more time with his belt or even the towel he was holding that she would have a powerful orgasm.

Celia's pubic lips and clitoris were engorged. Her labia were puffed -- swollen. Her clitoris was erect to its ½ inch limit and stood up and out from the hood. Her vagina was still filling with lubrication and was too slippery to allow enough friction for Ken to orgasm. 

Not realizing the extent of Celia's arousal, Ken once more drove his very hard erection between her open pubic lips. With no resistance from her vaginal entrance or passageway, he hit her G-spot dead on and the ridge of his penis head dragged across that ready area.

Celia erupted with a volcanic orgasm and a powerful ejaculation. The gush hit Ken's loins. The spate, like a fire hose, soaked his entire body as well as hers. 

Swearing aloud, Ken retrieved a dry towel and dried the two of them off again. He was angry now and determined to punish her. He reached down between her upturned legs and began to slap her breasts, back and forth. She screamed in pain with each slap but again experienced that warm, sensual feeling in her breasts and pubic area.

Because of the beating of her genitals and her breasts, Celia had become multi-orgasmic and her body was primed to explode again. As her breasts reached a ruddy glow from the slaps, she erupted again. Because her crotch was aimed upward and Ken was leaning between her legs to torture her breasts, her sexual torrent hit him full in the face. His mouth had been open from exertion and much of the fluid went into his mouth. Most of it went down his throat, as he had to continue swallowing to keep from gagging. 

Ken ran to the bathroom connecting this room to the master bedroom. He bent over the commode thinking he was about to throw up, but that didn't happen. Disgusted, Ken put on a pair of shorts, and muttering something about pissing women, marched to the cellar door and down the stairs, leaving Celia trussed up on the bed. Ken had lost his erection when Celia's juices went down his throat, and he was no longer in the mood for sex. Celia had had two excruciating orgasms and felt sated although the marriage still had not been consummated. Ken had been inside her body but had not ejaculated. Still enjoying having her legs up in the air, Celia fell into a blissful sleep.

Ken spent the rest of their honeymoon night in the basement, drilling, hammering, and building his idea of a dungeon. At dawn, he returned to the bedroom and freed Celia from her contorted position. He practically pushed her out of bed, laid down, and fell asleep. Celia, a little stiff and sore from her trussed position all night, managed to stagger to their master bedroom and went back to sleep.

From the time of her wedding night, Celia was both sequentially and multi-orgasmic. She could orgasm quickly from either direct stimulation of her genitals and/or by being beaten. During their marriage, this would be a source of pleasure for Ken but also a source of frustration. He never knew when she would spew her juices all over him, and though he would keep trying, beating her didn't bring the results he wanted.

The morning after their wedding night, Celia and Ken stared at each other across the breakfast table. Celia was still in an orgasmic glow and beamed at Ken. Ken had not reached climax, had spent the night working in the basement, and was angry with Celia for several reasons. He glared across the table at her. She thought he was very handsome and masculine. 

"Celia, I intend to beat the crap out you over and over until you file for divorce. I can't file or my father will disinherit me. I need my freedom to screw as many women as I possibly can before I'm too old to do so. Life is too short to spend it drilling only one pussy. 

Even if you don't file for divorce, I intend to keep on banging everyone in dresses. I told you that before you trapped me into marriage, and I intend to do just that."

"Yes, dear, I remember that you said that, but I will become all things to you, and you'll forget that. You'll see."

"Fat chance." Ken growled, and went back down to the basement.

They never had sex in the master bedroom. Because Celia soaked Ken, herself, and the bed every single time they had intercourse, they put plastic covers over the mattress in the adjoining anteroom, and went back to the master bedroom to sleep after a sex session. Celia was on cloud nine. Ken was getting angrier by the day. 

Eventually, Ken's anger got the better of him. One day after they had sex and Celia drenched him, Ken picked Celia up, slung her over his shoulder and carried her to the basement where he would punish her severely, or so he thought. He cuffed her wrists and clipped them to a spreader bar; he cuffed her ankles and clipped them to another spreader bar; then he hoisted her up near the ceiling and went to look for something with which to beat her. Celia enjoyed new experiences and thought this was a lot of fun. 

Ken had brought whips and other devices from his loft apartment and opened the box they were in. He chose a long plaited whip, uncoiled it and snapped it across Celia's bottom. Celia shrieked, feeling the pain and then the afterglow, and cooed. Ken hit her again with the same results. After the twelve strokes that he always administered to his submissive women, he stopped to check out his handiwork. Celia's buttocks were striped and bruised, but having delivered the usual twelve lashes, his adherence to his "dozen" superstition wouldn't allow him to hit her butt again with this whip. 

Ken walked around in front of her and lashed out at her upper thighs and pubes. Since Celia was over a foot up off the floor, her ejaculation caught Ken in the face and open mouth. Disgusted, he threw down the whip and marched up the stairs, leaving Celia suspended from the ceiling. He left her hanging there for half an hour before returning to the basement and letting her down. He carried her upstairs, dumped her on the anteroom bed, and slunk off to his favorite watering hole. He wondered if she would ever stop dousing him. He couldn't seem to win even one round. He returned hours later, half drunk and irritated. Celia was sound asleep in the master bedroom. Ken went to bed in the anteroom.

The next morning, Ken went into the master bedroom to check his 'handiwork'.

Celia was sound asleep, so he rolled her over to look at her bottom. She had welts and bruises on her lower buttocks and upper thighs. 

Will miracles never cease! Ken was a little ashamed that he had abused those sweet cheeks. This may have been the only time in his life he had felt even a semblance of remorse. Maybe he was falling in love with his wife. She was so extremely innocent. He bent over and kissed her ass; something he would never have done if she were awake. He had too much 'masculine pride'. He told himself that he wouldn't beat her again, but, in his heart, he knew he wouldn't be able to stop himself. He was driven to abuse his women. His concern for Celia lasted for an extremely short time.

For a week, Ken stuck to that self made promise, but she drenched him during sex on the following Saturday evening; he lost his cool and carried her down to the basement and beat her with a sjambok for his requisite number of twelve strokes. The pain was so intense that even Celia couldn't cope with it and passed out. She woke up in her bed as he was applying lotion to the welts on her buttocks. She was lulled by his evident concern and tried to coax him back into bed for another round of sex, but he knew what that would bring; he stormed off to his favorite bar. 

The following week, he added another dozen strokes with a cane overlaying the previous welts. Her skin was soft and delicate and would take several weeks for the stripes to heal. Week after week, he beat her until her backside was crisscrossed with whip marks. She was not healing fast enough, and he was not used to having only one woman to beat. All his other women had had time for their buttocks and thighs to heal before coming back for more punishment. Furthermore, although Celia was more or less handling the pain, she was becoming ill from the trauma of the beatings.

His frustration with Celia's constant ejaculation and her ability to withstand pain was driving him up the wall. He was at his wit's end and was drinking more and more heavily. He had never been so demoralized by a woman before. He had to find a way out of his dilemma. 

Ken had been seeing a psychiatrist every week since he was twenty-one. His sexual addiction was so overwhelming that it interfered with every aspect of his life. Had the Internet existed when he first realized he was a sexual addict, he could have gone online and found this article:

There is a line between enjoying sex, its peripheral pleasures and sexual addiction. In sexual addiction long periods of time are given over to sex-related activities. Sex addicts feel unable to control sexual behavior or even reduce its incidence. People with sexual addiction behavior often use sex as an escape from other problems such as anxiety, stress, depression and social isolation.

*************

The next episode in this charming tale has not been written yet, so be patient, dear reader. It will be when time permits and I'm able to write it without throwing up.

I am not implying that it is only Celia's genetic disposition that would cause a woman to be stimulated by pain. There is enough anecdotal evidence that many women, without Celia's problem, are turned on by physical abuse. The pages of this forum are replete with tales by female authors of those circumstances. They can't all be circumventing the truth. They either have 'been there, done that' and have been aroused by pain, or they fantasize about it. I am not pointing a finger or denying it does happen; however, Celia doesn't fall into that category. Her body recognizes pain as something pleasant after the initial blow.

The following will not be as tasty and juicy as a succulent vagina, so if you're easily bored by my ramblings, feel free to bypass it. As you're probably aware of by now, I have a compulsion to explain just about everything I do. That may have something to do with computer programming in the past. In any case, I would like to tell you readers who are still listening how I go about writing these inflammatory chapters. I don't know how my sisters set up their yummy stories, but this is the way I write:

Firstly, I am a voracious reader and tend to maintain a database of facts, figures, and TONS of trivia and minutia in the hard drive in my head.

Secondly, I read all the deliciously dirty stuff that my sister writers fantasize about (keeping my juices flowing) and offer us on Literotica and other sites. I make a list, not unlike a grocery-shopping list, of all the tidbits (or is that tit-bits? Yum!) and smutty little details that I want to incorporate into my dirty stories. When the list is fairly complete (it never stops growing), I organize it into chapters and build an outline. 

Thirdly, I fill my dirty mind with these facts and the direction I want to go, and I turn on my autopilot. Having the list and outline in front of me, the story seems to write itself. I am often amazed at what comes out of my conscious and subconscious. 

Fourthly, as I tend to write long descriptive paragraphs, I have to slash, cut, burn, and dump a large portion of what I write -- as much as three quarters (I have no trouble writing 500 or 600 pages). I know that would be far too much for this site. It would bore you into a coma. However, rest assured that the salient, filthy, morally corrupt thoughts remain. 

My Literotica editor, that wonderful, astute, sweet young woman, keeps me on track. She reminds me that I'm not writing the "Great American Novel". She knows that I don't seek help in grammar, spelling, syntax, etc. (That doesn't mean I don't make mistakes. I just don't seek help). That girl keeps pointing out where I've gone wrong; when I'm writing too much detail; and keeps encouraging me. She also tries to get me to use dirty words like f__k, pussy, c__t, tits, etc. in order to make my stories more lewd and lascivious. As you can see, I have an awful time trying to use non-technical terms. I can say 'hell' and 'damn' without too much blushing. I've even been known to say 'shit!' when something has gone terribly awry. Well, you get the point. You're wondering how an innocent, like I am, can write such filthy stories. Believe me, it doesn't 'come' easily. It's the difficult part of writing for me. BUT, I love dirty stories in spite of my reticence to put the trashy parts down on paper or in bits and bytes.

That being said, I am having difficulty in writing the next chapters. They are so lewd and pain filled that my long-suffering editor has warned me to tone them down. So don't blame her if they disgust you. I refuse blame, also. You may blame it on my dirty mind that is on automatic pilot. You may wish to stop reading with this chapter so as to preclude any possible corruption of your soul. I know, I know. You're well equipped to handle anything I can dish out. Well, you've been told. Don't say I didn't warn you.

If, at any point, you think I've gone too far, please don't hesitate to let me know. I'll answer all your emails to try to explain my obscene thoughts.

Raven ( or should that be ravin'?) 



Joanna's Story Ch. 03



Chapter 03

Ken's women experience much pain and humiliation.

Karla had gone off to university shortly after Ken married Celia. Karla hadn't been able to handle her emotions at the time of the wedding since she had thought that Ken would marry her some day. She had to get away from Mackey or go into hysterics every time she thought of losing Ken to Celia. Karla knew that Celia was a good person and cared about her. She didn't want to interfere in Ken and Celia's marriage although her own heart was breaking. 

Karla was even more upset when she learned that the anonymous benefactor who was paying for her education was, in fact, Celia. Celia's parents were well off and had given her a large sum of money as a wedding gift. This was not money she would need to share with Ken. Ken received money from his photo studio "hobby" and from his wealthy father. Celia's parents knew Ken's reputation as a playboy and wanted Celia to have some money of her own 'just in case'. Aware of Karla's financial situation, Celia had transferred a large portion of her bank account into Karla's. Although Karla had been a contender for Ken's affections, Celia had had a soft spot in her heart for Karla ever since that gorgeous woman had spent so much time performing cunnilingus on her when Ken and Celia had their first sexual encounter. Although Ken had demanded that Karla perform the ritual, Karla had been so warm and loving in providing that comfort, that Celia felt a strong affection toward Ken's mistress. She felt that their lives were somehow intertwined.

Celia, in her third trimester of pregnancy, was ill; the illness stemmed not from the pregnancy but from the weekly beatings administered by her husband. She was terrified that she would lose the child, but she was even more frightened of having to be hospitalized and her secret becoming public knowledge. She was concerned that her father would murder Ken if he learned of the beatings. She didn't want her father to go to prison -- and she didn't want to her baby to grow up without a father. 

By this time, she no longer had strong feelings for Ken. They had evaporated slowly but surely because of his lack of concern for their unborn child. She was becoming increasingly despondent and was not leaving her bed for days at a time. Fortunately for everyone, Karla returned to Mackey during a fairly long school break. One of the first things she did was go to visit Celia to thank her for providing for her university and nurse's training. She wouldn't have had sufficient funds for tuition, books, lab fees, and living expenses. She was extremely grateful to Celia and wanted to express her thanks. 

Karla arrived at the Mackey home on a Friday afternoon while Ken was at his photography studio, bedding a new customer, a pretty woman who came to have her picture taken and stayed for lunch. Ken's assistants dined on her body before and after Ken provided that lunch in her vagina. The studio's two female managers no longer held title either to heterosexual or even bisexual status. After years of eating pussy, these former straight ladies had become full "blown" lesbians probably because they had had been latent homosexuals in the first place. The studio had gained a reputation of catering to the "in" crowd. "In" referring to vaginas. Frequently, when a horny female made an appointment to have her picture 'taken", she was referring to her pussy, not her face. The assistants would place a 'closed' sign on the shop door and, taking the woman to the back bedroom, would "open" her for business. This boudoir bordello had quite a few female customers; however, it was never really profitable. The two lez-ladies were too busy 'eating up the profits' to tend to photography. Ken continued to use the studio to recruit new witch-bitches, but he had to rely on his father's largesse to maintain his life style. 

When no one answered her repeated knocks, Karla went around to the kitchen door and peeked in. Seeing no one, she tried the door and found it unlocked. She entered the house and began calling Celia's name. 

"In here, Karla," whispered Celia, "I'm in the bedroom."

Karla was aghast when she saw Celia's condition and wanted to call an ambulance. When Celia pleaded that she not call 911, Karla called Dr. Janssen who rushed to the Mackey home. He medicated Celia's wounds and tried to convince her to go to hospital. Angry as a hornet at Ken's treatment of Celia, he also wanted to call the police.

Celia was able to dissuade him from taking that course of action, but he stayed at her bedside administering to her until Ken returned home. 

The doctor read the riot act to Ken and told him that if he found even one more welt on Celia's body that he would call the police, Ken's father, Celia's father, and the local newspaper. Ken appeared to be contrite, but he was seething inwardly thinking that Celia had betrayed him. He was already thinking up new ways to punish her.

Karla stayed with Celia for the next couple of weeks. By that time, Dr. Janssen and Karla had nursed Celia to a healthier state just in time for her to give birth to a beautiful baby girl she named Joanna. Dr. Janssen, Karla, and Celia's mother delivered the child at the Mackey home as Celia adamantly refused to go to the maternity ward. Celia had told her mother she preferred home birthing, and Celia's mother said she understood. Her mother, knowing Celia's problem with physical sensitivity, didn't try to talk her daughter out of it. She figured that Dr. Janssen would be better able to handle the situation than the hospital staff. She was also pleased that Karla, a student nurse, would be there for Celia.

Karla told Ken she would kill him herself if he beat Celia again. She had lost all feeling for the S.O.B. Unfortunately, she had to go back to university and her classes. It wasn't long before Ken's resentment toward Celia pushed him into further punishing her. However, he had learned from his mistakes and found ways to hurt her without leaving marks on her body.

Ken found several whips that left little evidence of their use. He tried them all on Celia until he found a few that he enjoyed using on her buttocks, thighs, and breasts. They were a little over two feet long with shafts made of a strong flexible plastic. The first, called a flicker whip, had a narrow leather strip, a popper, on the end. With just a slight motion of his wrist, Ken could keep the end flicking back and forth across Celia's flesh in a blur without producing welts. As Celia only felt pain at the initial instant of the stroke, the constant touch of the popper kept her in pain the entire time Ken used it. He would hang Celia from the basement ceiling and 'flick the flicker' across her buttocks. Usually not satisfied with seeing those cheeks turn scarlet, he would use the whip between her upper thighs, front and back, until they were almost blood red. Still not content, he would flick her nipples and breasts, the whip becoming a blur in his expert hands. When she would pass out, he'd get a cup of coffee, sit and admire his handiwork. Ken was evil, incarnate.

Two other such instruments, called slappers, that he employed on Celia's tender skin had rectangular leather strips, one flexible and one firm. These too could be flicked back and forth with minimal wrist motion. Ken became adept at flicking them fast enough to also blur them. He found another advantage to these whips. He did not feel constrained to limit their use to a dozen strokes. He would employ them for up to twelve minutes or until Celia fainted. Her breasts, thighs, and buttocks would become very reddened but didn't retain marks. 

Ken continued beating Celia about once a week for several years. It usually took a week for the redness to dissipate. Celia's trauma resulted in a malaise that she couldn't fight off. Taking care of Joanna became such a chore for her that Ken was forced to hire a nursemaid for the child. Of course, Ken drew the nursemaid into his Wicca, and would 'inject' her with his wizardry in front of Celia. Finally, Ken realized that the beatings might eventually result in his arrest and possible imprisonment and decided he needed a different way to hurt Celia. He still hadn't forgiven her for entrapping him. 

Prior to marriage, Ken had a ritual he called WWW, his 'Wicked Wiccan Wednesday', and he decided to reestablish that system. Every Wednesday night during his twenties, Ken had invited one of the girls and women he called his 'witch-bitches' to his loft apartment, the top floor of one of his father's office buildings. Often, he was there with another woman, his Wednesday night 'witch-mate', his name for his mistress when he wasn't with Karla. He saw Karla on weekends, and she was blithely unaware of his other mistress. She had heard rumors of his trysts with many of the town's girls but had never caught him with any of them. She was as naïve as Celia and therefore much too trusting. 

At times, he would have threesomes with Karla and another woman; he told her she would have to accept that as a way of life if they were to spend their lives together. Foolishly, Karla accepted those terms because she was smitten with Ken. She clung to him until he married Celia at which time she was crushed, able to break away, and went off to school in another state.

Ken told Celia that he would stop beating her, but he would expect her to agree with having other women enter their marriage bed and have threesomes with them. When Celia refused this further indignity, he told her that if she didn't comply, that in addition to continue beating her, he'd bring five-year-old Joanna to watch Celia's degradation, Celia caved and agreed to do as he wanted. This set the tone for the rest of their marriage. 

Ken set this plan into action by having Celia herself invite women to participate in these bedroom brawls. He gave Celia access to his little black book, or rather a loose-leaf binder that kept growing thicker, and a set of instructions with which to plan the trysts. He insisted that she start at page one and work through to the last page at which time she was to start over from the beginning. This nauseated Celia, but she felt that she had no choice but to accede to his demands. The book was in a code she didn't understand; Ken told her that all she needed to know were the phone numbers of the women and told her how to decipher those. When she asked about names, he told her to ask for Missy; Missy would tell her the names of the other women. In taking part in these orgies, naïve Celia felt that she would not able to tell anyone of Ken's spousal abuse. 

"Hello, may I speak to Missy please?" asked Celia.

"Uuuuuh, this is Missy. Who's calling?"

"Missy, this is Ken Mackey's wife. I ..." 

"Oh, Mrs. Mackey, I haven't been seeing Ken for several years."

"I know, Missy, but that's what I wanted to talk to you about." Before her voice could desert her, Celia hurriedly blurted out, "Would you consider having a three way with Ken again?" 

"If you mean with that cunt, DeeDee, absolutely not. Mrs. Mackey, I apologize for using that language; however, I do miss Ken. What are you asking? Are you getting a divorce? Are you leaving Ken? I don't understand. Mrs. Mackey, I'm not gay. The only reason I was willing to have sex with other women was to be with Ken. Ken demanded that from all the women he scre, uh, had sex with." 

"I know, Missy. He explained that to me, and you may not have to have sex with DeeDee. Oh, Missy, this is sooo dificult for me to talk about. Please give me time to rephrase my questions." There's a long pause and Celia starts again. 

"Missy, Ken has given me an ultimatum. Either I have sex with his women or ... Missy, I can't go on. May I call you back?"

"Certainly, Mrs. Mackey, though I can't believe you mean what you're saying. You don't have to call me back. I'll wait until you can compose yourself. Please don't cry. I know how manipulating Ken can be. I was his victim for several years, and, Lord help me, I know I'd succumb now. You absolutely can't give in to him, or he will just escalate his demands. Run away, Mrs. Mackey. Run. I know you have a young daughter. Take her and go back to your parents' home." 

"I can't do that, Missy. My father has a terrible temper and he would kill Ken, and I can't let that happen. I'm in a terrible bind. Please help me. Please have sex with Ken and me."

A long pause again. "Yes, Mrs. Mackey. Okay, I will. I can't help myself. I've been craving sex with Ken ever since you two got married. I told myself that it was a godsend that he married you and freed me, but that's not true. What do you want me to do?"

"Do you remember the WWW, Missy? Can you tell me all about it?"

"Mrs. Mackey, you don't want to know about it. It would devastate you."

"Please, Missy. I do want to know the details. Don't you see that would help free me from any residual feelings I may still have for Ken? I won't be having sex with you and my husband. It will be with you and someone I don't even want to know; someone who is extorting - raping me. You needn't feel guilty about having sex with Ken's wife. I am not his wife from now on." 

"Okay, I'll try, but please stop me if you can't handle what I'm about to tell you. First, Mrs. Mackey, my name isn't Missy. It's Susan. When I answered the phone and you asked for Missy, I knew the message would be from Ken. I had no idea that the call was from his wife, or I probably would have hung up without talking to you. 

Ken called all his women Missy. He had so many that he couldn't remember their names. To prevent calling one of us by someone else's name, he called all of us Missy. That's when he wasn't calling us witch-bitch, cunt, fuck slut, and a bunch of other horrid names. Ken wasn't - isn't - a nice man, Mrs. Mackey, but I see you've found that out for yourself. Again, Mrs. Mackey, what would you have me do? Whatever it is, I'll do it; god help me. Would it mean going through the rituals he put us through when we were his sex slaves?"

"I'm afraid so, Missy. I can't bring myself to ask you, so please tell me what he'd have you do, and I'll say yes or no. And, please, Missy, call me Celia. Since we are going to be so intimate, it doesn't make sense for us to be formal. Missy -- Susan -- I'll need your help in another way. I've never performed oral sex on a woman. You'll have to guide me. Okay? I don't want to anger Ken by not doing it correctly. Oh, lord, how can I be discussing this? Please go on, Susan. Tell me about WWW."

"Mrs., uh, Celia. Ken would send a cab to pick me up; the cab would drop me at the rear door in the parking lot of his loft apartment. There's a high wall around the lot and no one could see me from the street. The rear door would be unlocked, and I'd go up to the loft in Ken's private elevator. Ken would greet me with 'hi bitch" or something like that. He very rarely kissed me. I'd be expected to go to his nightstand -- the panty drawer - and take out some other woman's dirty panties, turn them inside out, fold them, and put them in my mouth with the stained crotch against my tongue. I almost threw up each time I had to do that. Then, I'd take my panties off and put them in the drawer. Ken hated jeans or pants on women, so I always wore a dress. No bra. He hated bras, too. I had to wear heels, though. Usually, I had to wear the high heels the entire time I was in the loft except when we were in bed. 

After I pulled my dress off, I had to stand there with my hands clasped behind my neck while Ken would feel me up, pinch my tits, uh, breasts and nipples until they were very sore. I didn't shave my pubic hair in those days, and he would grab a handful of hair and pull up until I was on tiptoe, but he didn't always stop then. I was afraid he would pull it out by the roots. I was in pain from the time I took off my dress until long after I left the loft.

You're thinking, 'Why didn't I stop seeing him?' Probably for the same reason you married him. He was a Svengali. He had some hypnotic power over me. I couldn't stop going to him no matter what he did to me. I hated him, and I hated myself, but I couldn't refuse to do his bidding. He was an addiction I couldn't turn down. 

Then he'd have me lie on the bed spread-eagled with a pillow under my ass, uh, bottom. 

Celia, I don't want to talk dirty to you, but it's so hard for me to use clean language and discuss Ken at the same time. Please pardon me." Celia nodded okay and Susan continued. 

Ken would rub my clit until it was erect and then he'd snap it with his thumb and middle finger a dozen times. Ken had a superstition or fetish or something. Everything had to be by the dozen. He mentioned once that early settlers were allowed by law to beat their wives with a stick no thicker than the man's thumb but could hit her only twelve times. I don't know if that's true or not, but it was Ken's guideline. Anyway, my clit was on fire by the time he snapped it twelve times. I wasn't allowed to move or make a sound while he was hurting me, or he'd send me home dressed or naked. I didn't want to find out which. My legs would ache with my need to close them, but I managed to keep them far apart. After my clit was 'sore enough', Ken would penetrate me -- actually rape me. He enjoyed hurting me -- especially when he could cause my bruised clitoris addition pain. Oddly, I had orgasms during that pain. Ken would come inside me when we were alone, but had something else in mind when his witch-mate DeeDee was there.

We women are strange creatures, aren't we? We say we hate being hurt, and then we come when we are brutalized. Are you sure you want to hear more, Celia?" 

"Yes, Susan, but I need a glass of wine to calm me down. Please hold on. I'll be only a couple of minutes." Three minutes elapse and Celia is back on the phone.. 

"Susan, I'm sorry, but I am shaking. Ken bragged to me what to expect, but hearing your first hand account is so much worse. Go on before I lose my nerve."

"Okay, Celia, but it gets even more, er, gruesome. Ken would hang me from the ceiling by my wrists and spread my legs far apart. Sometimes he'd use a spreader bar, but he was inventive, too. He had drilled bolts into two bowling balls and fastened my ankle cuffs to the bolts. The balls were so heavy, and I was so weak from pain that I couldn't drag them to close my legs. Ken had several whips and crops that he would beat me with. By my last visit, he was using one whip twelve times on the backs of my upper thighs; another whip a dozen times on the fronts of my thighs; a dozen on my belly and pussy; and then a dozen on my ass. The worst was the cane that he reserved for my ass. It would take weeks for the welts and bruises to fade. He never hit me anywhere else than from below my waist to above my knees. I think he didn't want the welts to show below my dress or on my back when I wore a backless dress. Although he didn't use whips on my tits, he would stand in front of me and slap them back and forth a dozen times. Sometimes, he would slap each breast twelve times. I'm sure that at times, he would forget the count and hit me more than twelve times. I never complained because I was afraid that he would send me home naked. I don't know why that would be worse than the beatings, but it was to me at that time. 

I mentioned that I would not have sex with DeeDee now. She was there at the loft more often than not and, believe it or not, she was crueler than Ken. When she beat me, she put her weight behind each stroke. Those beatings took longer to heal than Ken's did.

Ken would put DeeDee and me into a sixty-nine position with me on the bottom. He'd screw DeeDee doggy while making me to lick them both as he pushed in and out of her. He'd pull out of her from time to time, put his penis in my mouth, and tell me to lick off her juices, so there would be more 'traction'. When he came, he had me lick him clean, suck his semen out of DeeDee's pussy, and lick her clean. Then I'd have to lick her to orgasm until she was satisfied. Usually, that was many times. 




Joanna's Story Ch. 03



Then, he'd pinch my nipples, tell me to get dressed and send me home in the cab with someone's panties in my mouth. 

Did I hate that? Absolutely. Would I do it again to go to bed with Ken? Only if I didn't have to eat Deedee. She never washed her pussy or douched. I gag when I even think of what she tasted and smelled like. Celia, would I have to go through all that misery if I agree to have threesomes with you and Ken?" 

"Oh, honey, I'm afraid so. At least the sexual aspects and humiliation. That may be even worse for you. However, I promise you that Ken won't beat you as he did before. I'd have him beat me before I'd let him subject you to all that torture. I'll agree to his demands if he promises not to use those heavy whips on you or on other women he may bring here. Here's our unlisted number. Please call me tomorrow. Don't agree to be a part of this if you have any qualms at all, and I'll 'negotiate' with him. Thank you, so much, Susan. You could literally save my life. Oh My! How is that for pressure?"

***

Dear readers,

When I started this awful tale, I had gleaned ideas from stories on this and other sites. I even watched film clips on BDSM. Then I wrote an outline for about four chapters. I thought I could handle what my imagination would come up with. I had no idea that putting all this together would be this gross. Writing, even by filling in the blanks, seems worse than reading or watching bondage. I am a bit shocked by what I myself have written. Perhaps, like Ken, I should see a therapist.

I have attempted to write enough narrative to sort of hide some of that BDSM, but I don't seem to be succeeding in even camouflaging it. I am tempted to shut down before I really disgust you and myself. I think I should have stuck with writing lesbian stories or even "true romance". I don't think I have what it takes to write S & M. My imagination and my sensitivity seem to collide and try to fight it out. I'm not sure what part of me will win. I am, at the same time, both aroused and horrified at what I'm writing. I know that it must be a pain to listen to me tell you of my problem over and over, but I must.

I have a strong compulsion to explain myself. I would very much like to be like other writers on this site who don't seem to allow their consciences to nag them. Mea culpa.

Have you had enough or are you so jaded that this story doesn't bother you? Be my conscience. What shall I do? The next chapters could be even more horrific than this one.



Joanna's Story Ch. 04



Four days have passed since Celia talked with Susan on the phone. She thinks that Susan has decided to forego threesomes with Ken and her. Celia believes she will have to call the next woman in Ken's 'date' book. She was not looking forward to telling the next woman that Ken wanted a three way with her and Celia. She had put off the next call, but Ken was threatening her, and she couldn't make any more excuses. He was ready to take her down to the basement again. 

Fortunately, after much angst and agonizing, Susan decided to go through with Ken's plan. She showed up at Celia's on Saturday evening about five minutes after Ken left to go drinking.

"Oh Susan, I'm so glad to see you. I was afraid you changed your mind. Let me pour some wine for you." 

"I did change my mind, Celia. After we talked on the phone, I told myself, 'No way would I allow myself to come under Ken's power again. After a lot of soul searching, I realized I was just kidding myself. I had to come here. I sat outside in my car until I saw Ken leave. I just couldn't face him tonight, but I wanted to look into your eyes and hear you say that this was what you were really willing to do. If you are, I'm ready, too. If you're feeling guilty thinking I'm doing this only to help you, forget that. I need to have sex with Ken no matter what he does to me."

"Thank you, Susan, for deciding to come back and for trying to salve my feelings. I think we'll be able to handle this if we work together. I won't let Ken hurt you badly. However, when I tried to deal with him about what he'd do to you, I wasn't completely successful. Before I tell you about his ultimatum, I need to know more about Wicked Wiccan Wednesdays. Okay?" Susan nodded but hung her head in despair.

"Susan, how much time would you spend with Ken and DeeDee in the loft? Did you leave after sex and the beatings?"

"I'd leave after he beat me, but we played games during the evening. I was usually there from about eight or nine o'clock until midnight. If I were there till twelve, the cab would be waiting out in the back parking lot. I guess Ken had an arrangement with the driver to be there at twelve. If I left earlier, Ken would have to call the cab. If it were later, the driver would wait until I came out to the cab. I never had to worry about being outside alone."

"Games? What kind of games? You mean like cards or board games?"

"Oh Celia, no. I mean sex games, humiliating games, painful games, but I'm uncomfortable telling you. It's so embarrassing. Do I have to tell you?"

"Susan, what could be more embarrassing than the type of sex and the beatings he inflicted on you? You told me about that. I need to know the rest and you need to tell it to someone. Me. You can't hold it in forever."

"I'll tell you some of it, but I'll need time to tell all of what he had his witch-mate and I do. " Susan took a deep breath, looked up at the ceiling and began. 

"He would -- he would - one thing he made us do was race each other in that long living area of the loft. He would put things in our pussies and have us run the length of the loft -- sometimes back and forth. If we dropped -- it -- out of our pussies, we had to pay a penalty. The loser of the race also had to pay a penalty. Sometimes we had to have a handicap during the race. Oh Celia. May I have another glass of wine before I tell you more?" Celia poured wine for the woman.

"What would he put in your vaginas, Susan?"

"Different things for each race: the handle end of a whisk broom; a broom; a coke bottle; a huge dildo; the handle end of one of the whips he beat me with; one of my shoes; several ping pong balls; and, and, and...

Some would drag on the floor and really hurt when we tried to move fast. I just can't tell you any more now. I'll try to tell you the next time I come here."

"I can't believe he'd put your shoe inside you. That sounds too gross even for Ken."

"Well, he did. He'd lubricate my pussy with K-Y gel and push the toe end of the shoe up inside me. The heel would be outside up near my clit. That was one time that I argued with him. I insisted he put a condom on the shoe so dirt on it wouldn't get inside me. He finally relented, but I had to pay a penalty. He made me stand out in the parking lot naked for a half hour until the taxi came. His witch-mate waited with me and held my clothes while I dressed in front of the cab driver. I think that's why I was so scared of having to go all the way home naked. It was so awfully humiliating. The cabby sat there and grinned the whole time I was dressing.

When my shoe was in me, I had to run the race with the other shoe on my foot. Every step was sheer torture, but Ken just smirked. He didn't put a shoe up inside his witch-mate. That was my handicap. He just had her put the whiskbroom in her pussy. He was never fair about what he had the two of do. Of course, I lost the race and had to pay another penalty."

"You keep referring to the other woman as his witch-mate. Wasn't it DeeDee?"

"No. There were three -- No, four others -- well, five, including me -- during the time I was going there."

"I'm having a hard time keeping up with all this. Let's go back. What 'penalty' did you have to pay when you lost a race or dropped -- whatever was inside you? I think I need another glass of wine, too. Why don't you have another? If you get tipsy, I'll call a cab for you. I'll give you money for a cab tomorrow to pick up your car. Where did you park? I didn't hear you drive up."

"I parked on the street so Ken wouldn't see the car when he came back. I'll leave by the back door. You won't have to call a cab. I learned to drink and hold it when I was seeing Ken. I had to do something to deaden my conscience. 

The penalty? Well, one penalty was that I had to drink a whole glass of water out of his witch-mate's pussy. He'd put her back up against the wall so that her pussy was up in the air and her knees down beside her. He'd put a funnel into her pussy and poured water in her a little at a time while I drank it out through a straw. It wasn't too bad except when it was DeeDee's dirty pussy. At least the other women were cleaner. I'll have to tell you about the worse penalties another time. Celia, am I going to have to do stuff like that now?' 

"No honey, but you will have to do some things you won't like. I had to agree to them or Ken would refuse to stop whipping you. This is what he stipulated. I'm so sorry, Susan. The panty drawer. You'll have to wear your panties for two weeks -- twenty-four hours a day. You must masturbate at least twice a day while wearing them. You can't shower or bathe, but you can take a sponge bath during the two weeks. If you have your period during that time, you can wear a tampon the two days of your heaviest flow, but not otherwise. That's the best I could do. No douching or washing your pussy. I know it's gross, but Ken is adamant. I realize it'll be nauseating for you to have to put some woman's filthy panties in your mouth, but it won't be pleasant for me either. I'll have to, uh, do, uh, perform, uh, oral sex on you -- on your unwashed - genitals. Susan, before you leave tonight, you must teach me how to do that. At least I'll know what you taste like when you're clean.

Susan, I'm hoping that the other women I have to call will say no, and it'll just be the two of us. I hope we can develop a rapport and be able to commiserate with each other. By the way, you mentioned that you were a witch-mate. How did that come about?" 

The woman took a deep breath and explained. "Ken used to tell his women, in front of his witch-mate, that they could replace the current woman if they did something outstanding to please him. We all tried to think up something, something special but every time I'd mention something, Ken would say that had already been tried. But one night he had me straddling DeeDee's mouth while she ate me out. 

When I orgasmed, I squirted in her mouth. She screamed and said I had pissed in her mouth. I hadn't, Celia. I had just come in her mouth, but she was angry and threatened me. Ken laughed and said that I had amused him. He probably thought I had peed in her mouth. He asked me if I could pee some more, and I had to tell him yes. He never allowed us to go to the bathroom while we were in the loft and my bladder was always full. Ken said that heightened our sex pleasure. 

He told DeeDee to open her mouth wide and press it up against my pussy. Then he told me to empty my bladder in her mouth. DeeDee protested but Ken said, 'That's twice!' and she stopped. He told her that if she spilled one drop, he'd give her a third punishment. She wilted. Without any more hesitation, she pressed her mouth up against me, and I did it. I peed until my bladder was empty. 

DeeDee cried. She knew she had lost her witch-mate status and that she'd have to endure two punishments. I had mixed emotions. I would be seeing Ken every Wednesday and not have to endure whipping, but I knew what other things his witch-mates had to do. 

DeeDee had asked, 'Can I at least pierce her nipples?' Ken said no, that I'd have to do that myself. I thought he meant putting rings in my nipples but that's not what he meant. He handed me a packet of four acupuncture needles and told me to put them completely through my nipples, or I'd have to take DeeDee's punishment and she'd remain his witch-mate. 

He told me to be grateful that they weren't hypodermic syringe needles that were much thicker. Having to put those needles through my tits was a nightmare. They hurt terribly because they were long, and I had to keep pushing them through until they couldn't go any farther. I had to wear them the rest of the night and couldn't take them out until I got home. 

Ken told me that one punishment that his witch-mate had to endure if she ever said no to something he wanted was to have the needles inserted from the nipple tip through into her breast. Believe me, I never said no to anything he asked me to do.

At midnight, Ken's witching hour, the three of us went down to the parking lot. Ken had written some instructions on a piece of paper, and DeeDee read them and gasped. I think she would have argued or refused, but she gritted her teeth and reread what he had written. She was afraid of a third punishment. DeeDee and I were both naked, but Ken said I could put my dress back on after the cab driver looked me over and saw the needles in my tits. To make things worse, after I put my dress back on to go home, the needles kept catching in the material and would jiggle the needles. It was awful. Then he told the cab driver that I wasn't allowed to take the needles out of my tits before I left the cab. 

DeeDee had to go home naked. The driver took me home first. When we reached my house and before I got out, DeeDee told me what her instructions, her second punishment, said. She had to proposition someone to have sex with her before she got home. The cabby would drive her around town until they saw a man or a woman walking alone. DeeDee would have to call him or her over to the cab, tell the person that she was incredibly horny and ask if he or she would have sex with her. If it were a woman, DeeDee had to offer to go down on her. DeeDee told me that she would get even with me if it took the rest of her life to do it. She really scared me. I tried to tell her that it was Ken's idea, not mine, but she wouldn't listen. Losing her witch-mate status made her furious. Having to screw or eat a stranger heightened that fury. 

Just getting out of the cab was sheer torture. The acupuncture needles hurt like hell when I would move and the dress material kept pulling at them. By the time I walked to my apartment, my boobs were on fire. It took me nearly an hour before I could ease the needles out and put some salve on the wounds. Did that discourage me from wanting to see Ken again? For that night it did, but I was back in the loft the following Wednesday as his witch-mate.

I found out later that DeeDee had propositioned three men and one woman that night, but they all refused her invitation. She begged the cabby to fuck her, but he said he was married and couldn't do it. She offered to go home with him and eat his wife, too. He must have felt sorry for her because he finally did screw her. She knelt on the back seat and he did it to her doggy; then he had her suck him clean, so his wife wouldn't smell DeeDee's pussy juice on him. However, DeeDee's smell is very strong,

Unfortunately, DeeDee didn't get him clean enough and his wife could still smell her, threw a fit and told him she wanted a divorce. She had previously suspected him of screwing his female fares. To add insult to injury, when Ken found out that the cabby had fucked DeeDee instead of having a complete stranger do it, he wouldn't let the cab driver pick up his witch-bitches any more. DeeDee was an expensive piece of ass for the cabby -- and he was just trying to be a Good Samaritan.

Celia, you're married to a monster. You have to break away from him."

"You're right, Susan, but not just now. I need time to work this out. In the meantime, please don't desert me. I need your cooperation. Don't tell me anymore now. I can handle only so much. Another glass of wine? No? Well then, can you teach me how to have oral -- how to eat a woman's vagina? Let's go into my bedroom." 

The two women went into the master bedroom and, on Ken and Celia's marital bed, Susan explained and showed Celia how to eat her pussy. Celia practiced on Susan for almost two hours, bringing her to orgasm several times. Celia wanted to eat her one more time -- for practice, she said, but Susan wanted to leave before Ken came back. Anyway, her clitoris was sore from Celia's intense sucking. She seemed to be so hungry to eat Susan that she didn't suck softly and delicately. After Susan left, Celia masturbated. She wished that she had asked Susan to lick her until she came. Well, there was always next time.

Celia had been pleasantly surprised that performing oral sex on another woman wasn't as bad as she had anticipated. She had actually enjoyed the taste and texture of Susan's genitals. She would have no trouble eating Susan from then on, but she was apprehensive about the other women she probably would have to have oral sex with.

Like Celia, Susan was a squirter, but when Susan came in her mouth, Celia found the fluid to be almost tasteless. She had no trouble swallowing it. Then too, this way, the bed wouldn't get soaked. Celia wasn't unhappy at all about the evening's sex session. She wondered if maybe she were bisexual. She had also enjoyed the time that Karla ate her. She masturbated again.

"Well Celia, have you called those other women?" Ken queried. "If you want your ass to heal, you better find at least a dozen women for our little game."

"No Ken, you're not going to whip me again, ever. I'll go along with the three-

ways to protect OUR daughter, and you can use the flicker on me, but I won't put up with the welts and bruises. If you manage to hit me with the whip, cane or sjambok, I'll kill you in your sleep. I found the pictures that you've been taking of the brutality that you have been so lovingly bestowing upon me since we were married. You shot yourself in the foot -- hoist on your own petard -- by taking those pictures. Look it up in the dictionary if you don't understand what that phrase means. I don't want to use the pictures because they would shame and embarrass me, too. However, if I have to murder you, they'll be my defense. Don't bother to look for the pictures. I mailed them and the videos to my father's attorney with instructions to give them to the police and several newspapers out of your father's "jurisdiction" if either of us is murdered. Close your mouth. It's not manly. I'd like to remind you, also, of the times I've drenched you. Those pictures you took will come back to haunt you. Wouldn't you like those pictures on front pages?

Unfortunately, I found your 'stash' too late and had already sworn to go along with the three-ways if you agreed to certain terms. I won't go back on my word, but don't push your luck. You had better stick to your side of our awful bargain. I'll have sex with you and your women in the ante-bedroom, but I'll sleep in the master bedroom by myself. You can sleep on the 'wet spot" in the anteroom. Don't ever come near me other than when we're abusing those other women. Another thing, I found and damaged the camera equipment you set up in the anteroom. You will not take pictures of what we do in there. The broken cameras are in the basement. And no, I couldn't get through to the cameras you have set up in the basement. Evidently, you had their niches built into the cellar when the house was built. I'll keep trying to get through your safeguards, though.

Yes Ken, I'll try to find a dozen or even more women for our Friday night 'poke her' sessions. That way, each woman won't have to put up with your malevolence too often -- as I'll have to do. Yes, Friday night. No more Wicked Wiccan Wednesdays; and no more women going home naked. I may have agreed to that in our 'business" deal, but I'll find a way to stop it. You're not going to humiliate those women even after they leave here. There won't be a witch-mate, either. You'll play fair with all of the women."

Ken said nothing, but went to the basement where he found and smashed the anteroom cameras. He threw them against the walls until there was nothing left of them but small fragments. For some reason, he seemed a bit upset.

Ken knew he had lost the game. The agreement he made with Celia took the teeth out of it. He had kept the panty drawer and increased the time to two weeks of the woman's secretions. He couldn't wait to see the look on each face when she put the filthy panty crotch on her tongue. She had to keep it in her mouth and swear she wouldn't take it out until she was home. The only time she would be permitted take it out was when she asked to eat Celia's pussy. Of course, Celia would have to suck and lick the woman's vagina, too. Ken would see to it that the woman's dirty genitals would make Celia hurl her cookies, and then he'd punish Celia for that.

He wouldn't be able to use the heavy whips on their bottoms and thighs, but he had insisted on using the flicker; Celia had finally agreed. He had wanted to be able to snap the woman's clit twelve times, but Celia was adamant in her refusal. In exchange, he demanded that at least he be allowed to use just one whip snap on her slit, and after considerable debate, Celia relented. Ken demanded that he be able to put nipple and labial clamps on the women, and Celia was so tired of this negotiation that she had thrown up her hands and agreed. She had also agreed that Ken could have any aspect of sex, no matter what. She knew that Ken probably wouldn't want to put his penis in a woman's rear, but the two women would be expected to insert their tongues into those orifices. Though the woman's genitals would be 'ripe', her anus had to be pristine if Ken wanted any variable of anal sex. Carla was concerned about E Coli and other nasty germs. 

Ken agreed that Celia wouldn't have to suck the women's toes or feet, but he denied that refusal to the other women. Ken had even been able to keep the use of acupuncture needles. He also wanted candles; naïve Celia couldn't imagine what he wanted to with candles and allowed him that option.

Ken also demanded that he could put anything that fit into the women's vagina, and Celia had added the proviso: as long as it was clean and had no sharp edges. He also wanted to be able to put any size butt plug in the woman's rear. Celia was unaware of how huge butt plugs could be and agreed

Celia felt that she had lost the negotiations, but it was the best she could do. The women would still be used and abused, but she thought she had won the most important aspect: NO heavy whipping, with the exception of that one and only one flick of the woman's genitals. 




Joanna's Story Ch. 04



In preparation for that one whip snap, Ken practiced his mastery of the long plaited whip. He would spend long periods of time in the basement snapping the end of a soda straw. The end of the straw would be bent and flattened when he kept the popper, a narrow strip of leather, on the end of the whip, but when he took it off, he became expert enough to clip off a bit of the straw. He had no intention of clipping off the woman's clit or a piece of her labia, but he wanted her to know that he could do it. The popper would be enough to make her scream in agony, and Ken was looking forward to that sound. He had wanted to use it on her nipples, too, but Celia had put her foot down and wouldn't agree to it. The nipple clips and acupuncture needles would have to do. When Ken considered what he had to agree not to do, he used the whip on anything it could reach and damaged quite a few objects in the basement.

Celia braced herself, took a deep breath, and began to call women in Ken's 'date' book. The first two told her they were married, but one said she'd be interested. Celia said the 'offer' wasn't open to married women; Ken didn't want some irate husband to come looking for him. The next four agreed but changed their minds when they learned of the new rules of the panty drawer. A few more declined when they learned of the other indignities. Celia was sick to her stomach by the time she had called nine women; there were no takers. Celia could not make any more calls and, sobbing her heart out, realized she may have to murder Kenny. What would happen to little Joanna if she went to prison? This was a no win situation. 

After lying across her bed crying for a while, she thought that maybe Susan might make the calls. She called Susan who came right to the house. Susan held Celia in her arms and told her that she would try to make the calls, but she wasn't sure. After a dozen calls, and only two agreements, Susan was unable to call any more that night. The two women made love, and Susan was able to bring Celia to orgasm; Celia's tension eased up, and she felt better. After Susan left, Celia had a difficult time falling asleep. They needed at least ten more women to agree, and she knew she would be unable to make another call. What would she do if Susan couldn't or wouldn't? After tossing and turning for hours, she cried herself to sleep.

Susan called Celia at ten the next morning, all excited. She had called Ken's two assistants at the photo studio and, after broadly explaining the situation, they agreed to think about it; they wanted to know what was in it for them. Although by this time, they were jaded by the constant stream of women through the shop and their sexual participation, they didn't want to join in the Friday night sex games. They knew how cruel Ken could be. 

Celia thought about phoning them, but decided to go to the studio and talk to them face to face. The two women, Starla and Dina, were very wary of how they would fare and how this would play out if they agreed to make the phone calls. Celia told them she knew of their role in seducing women for Ken's use -- and their use. She would look the other way and not make any trouble for them if they would act as her and Susan's go-between in this and other matters. She would also step in and challenge Ken if he ever attempted to fire them. The two women talked it over and agreed to make the calls.

Since they had files on all of Ken's women, they were in a better position to find women who would be eager to play sex games with Ken. Furthermore, Starla and Dina thought it would be great fun to tell the other women what to expect and hear them agree to whatever Ken might do to them. Celia was so relieved that she kissed the two women -- on the mouth. 

Eight days later, Starla called Celia to tell her that they had contacted sixty-two of Ken's former witch-bitches and women they and Ken had seduced at the photo studio; they found seventeen women who were more than anxious to be with Ken again no matter what the cost. Celia was stunned. She couldn't believe that any woman would agree to be abused just to have sex with her brutal husband. Who WERE these women? Then she realized that she was one of them. 

While waiting for the photo shop women to find more players, Susan and Celia had satisfied Ken's sex lust and allowed him to perpetrate his indignities on them. After much soul-searching Susan realized she had lost much, but not all, of her craving for Ken; she had found love, sex and solace in Celia's arms. Celia felt a lot of affection for Susan and enjoyed sex with her, but was not in love with Susan. Susan was so smitten with Celia that she asked if she could join in on all the Friday night sessions. Celia consented.

Celia found herself thinking about Karla quite a bit these days. Karla had come to her rescue more than once during the years after Celia's marriage to Ken. Karla had completed her university courses and nurses training; she had become an OR nurse in a large metropolitan hospital on the other side of the state. She had come back to Mackey on holidays and time off from her duties and had never failed to visit Celia; she had told Celia that she loved her and would do anything in the world for her. Strange for two straight woman to have such extremely strong feelings for one another. Celia felt herself pining for gorgeous Karla. She fantasized about Karla returning to Mackey and the two of them living together.

"Ken, I've decided that there will be a witch-mate after all; however, she will be my mate, not yours. I'm referring to Susan, and I'm warning you now, you are NOT to abuse her in any way. Susan's panties will be the first with which to gag the next woman, but that will be her only participation in that foul panty drawer thing you dreamed up. Instead of threesomes, Susan has agreed to join in and there will be foursomes or whatever you call them."

Ken was not completely happy with Celia's plan. He had been waiting for the day when he could snap Susan's clitoris with the long whip. However, ongoing sex with three women instead of two each time might make up for that loss. 

*****

Dear readers,

I've been outed. NO, not that way, silly. You've known my sexual preference from my stories, What I mean is, I made two teeny little errors in writing these stories. Americans say 'in THE hospital' or 'at THE university'. I wrote: 'In hospital' and 'in university'.

I'd forgotten that detail because Americans say, "in church; in class; in school, and even 'in college'. Brits say 'IN university'. I was educated in the U.S. and thought I was speaking 'American' in these stories, but alas, I erred; and one of you sharp readers caught the error.

If nationality were an issue in a criminal investigation, that error would have convicted me. It doesn't take much for a detective to catch someone up. One can't remember everything when he or she is being interrogated. Maybe I ought to write detective stories instead of dirty stories. Nooo, filthy stories are much too much fun. 

Now, why can't one of you Literotica authors write a detective novel, a paperback, packed with oodles of sexual activity -- maybe containing half a dozen Literotica categories? I'd love to read that. I'd buy it. Let me know when it's on the newsstands.

I've received quite a few emails from readers, and I've managed to answer them. Evidently, not all you readers find my rambling endnotes to be of too little value to read.

However, if you do find them boring and tedious, I apologize. Just skip them from now on.

Rambling Raven 



Joanna's Story Ch. 05



Again, I find it necessary to explain myself. I started out to write a two-part story about a writer, new to fiction, who writes about herself telling how she met her lover. The intros and endnotes are part of the story. Some of you have caught on, but, evidently, I confused others.

The first part of the story is factual up to a degree. I changed names to protect the not so innocent; I embellished and camouflaged other factors; most of the plot is overstated. In short, I took liberties, poetic license, if you will, to tell the story. I am, in fact, the Joanna of the story, and my partner, my lover, is Lyssa in the story. I am out of the closet as far as this site is concerned, but not in my real world life. My colleagues do not know my sexual orientation. 

The physical descriptions are close; however, the real Lyssa is much more petite than her story counterpart, and I am taller. Another difference: I have reversed their personalities. In real life 'Joanna' has 'Lyssa's' personality and 'Lyssa' has 'Joanna's' personality.

The second part, Joanna's Story, is pure fiction dredged out of the deliciously dirty mind of my lover, TT. She acted as my research assistant and gathered all the bits and pieces you'll find in that second phase, Joanna's Story. 

One huge mistake I made was to write chapters instead of one long story. That would have prevented readers from expecting everything in the first chapter. 

I will try to explain the confusion. It is a result of my inability to convince Literotica to permit me to categorize the story the way it needed to be.  As I've mentioned in the past, I needed a multiphase category that Literotica doesn't have. Therefore it was essential that I use BDSM. 

Despite the fact that the heroine has been kidnapped, enslaved, locked in a dungeon, held captive, forced to stand with a pole up her vagina; her nipples and labia pierced, beaten with whips, her nipples clipped, and her labia and nipples chained to a dog, my category of BDSM was denied & changed to Lesbian & Non Consenting Sex. This pulled the rug from under my writing strategy. Literotica evidently expects each chapter to stand on its own merits rather than a piece of the whole.

I don't blame Literotica. They had no way of knowing what I was up to. Unfortunately, I needed that BDSM category to phase into the second part of the story. Readers coming upon my submissions and passing over the Lesbian Sex and Non Consenting Sex went directly to the BDSM and found a non sequitur. They thought that it was a completely independent story and were turned off when the first chapter failed to live up to the intro. 

The story was to be a progression, NOT strong BDSM in each chapter. It was meant to build to a crescendo that reached a 'climax' (pardon the pun) in the last chapter. That's what the first half (WLmS] did and would have made that point if it were read. Not reading it first has somewhat caused the confusion. I received some hostile emails from readers who expected the first chapter to be filled with harsh BDSM that was NOT my intention even though that had to be the category. 

Literotica is a great site and I'm glad I found it and submitted; however, I did find it a bit restrictive, category wise, for telling my story.



Jonanna's Story Chapter 05

Ken brings his female sex toys into his marital home.

Celia discussed with Susan the outcome of "negotiations" with Ken. She explained what Susan and the other complying women would have to endure if they wanted to be with Ken. She highlighted the fact that there would be no more brutal beatings with the heavier whips; Ken had insisted on the disgusting panty drawer, of course, and the use of the flicker whips, nipple and labia clamps, acupuncture needles and candles, (at least) one snap of the long braided whip on the women's clits, foreign objects inserted in their vaginas and rectums, any type of vaginal, rectal, and oral sex that he wanted, and anything else not specifically precluded by the "contract" with Celia. Celia, being exceedingly unworldly, probably missed many items that Susan had failed to mention or not thought of and so gave Ken a large array of indignities that he could perpetrate on his witch-bitches with impunity.

One item that Celia had wanted to eliminate was sending the women home naked. Ken had tentatively agreed, but did not give his word to end. 

Celia thought she was in an awful nightmare and still couldn't believe that the women would agree to such atrocities. Susan and Ken knew that they would. Ken had too strong a grip on them to permit them to refuse once he had them in his bed.

"Celia, you may have made a mistake in trying to get Ken to give up what he wants to do to women. Anything you may have eliminated will make him that much more brutal in the areas you have consented to. I can't see him giving up the harsh whippings either. Negotiating with him may have made it worse for his sex toys. 

However, thank you for trying to make it easier for me, but I will still crave having sex with him, and I do want him to treat me a little harshly. That is such a turn on. The worse he treated me, the stronger my orgasms were. I don't want to give that up. Can you understand?"

"In a way I can, Susan, but not entirely. I used to respond to him that way too, but his constant abuse has eliminated that. I feel bound to stay married to Ken, but I really want to stay out of his grasp. His abuse and your accounts of the Wicked Wiccan Wednesdays have destroyed any vestige of feelings I may have had for him. Your contacts with Ken were intermittent, and you had time to recover from each encounter; mine were constant; I didn't have time to recover from one episode to another. 

I have had those two photo studio bitches make up a tentative schedule for the other women to come here on Friday evenings. That will start in two weeks so don't change your underwear until then. Oh, another thing that Ken and I have agreed on is that the women will have to come here in a cab. We don't want the neighbors to see a parade of women driving here. If they arrive in a cab, that won't be so obvious. That doesn't apply to you. You can park in the driveway in front of the house. It's not necessary for you to park on the street. In fact, your car will be less noticeable in the driveway.

Oh Susan, I am apprehensive about this whole disaster. Please let me lean on you; I won't be able to handle this without your support. Make love to me, Susan. Help me cope, please."

The women have sex and fall asleep in each other's arms. Ken has come home, but since the two women are in the master bedroom, he doesn't encounter them; in an alcoholic fog, he goes to bed in the ante bedroom. By the time he awakens the next morning, Susan is gone.. Celia refuses to speak to him, so he goes to the basement to practice with the long whip for an hour; then he leaves for the photo studio.

Susan stops by to see Celia on the following Friday; she is obviously upset.

"This isn't going to work, Celia. I've been wearing these dirty panties for just one week, and I can't stand them. I keep thinking that other people can smell the panties and me. Can't I, at least, take them off, bathe, and put them back on? What will they smell like after two weeks? What will those women out there smell like after two weeks? Those women will be having the same problem that I'm having. They are going to be very concerned about how they smell. This isn't the Middle Ages when no one bathed. They didn't smell each other then because everyone stank. I think Ken's wicked witches are going to rebel and not follow the panty drawer rule. Their coworkers are going to complain. Their relatives are going to nag them to bathe. I'm only too glad that this is the last time I have to do this. After two weeks, the other women are going to have rotten crotches. Oh Celia, forgive me. I forgot that you'll have to, uh, service them."

"It gets worse, Susan. Ken is demanding that since he can't beat you, you will have to service, as you call it, those unbathed women, too. Don't put up a fuss, Susan. Ken says if we complain, he'll make it a whole month, rather than two weeks. I'm sick, just sick, imagining what it'll be like."

Friday, a week later, the first women enters the house, looks around, sees a light coming under the ante room door and enters. Ken, Celia, and Susan are fully dressed and sitting on the bench at the foot of the bed. 

"Come in, bitch. Take your dress off. From now on, remove your dress before you come in. Just drop it on the floor outside the door. That's right; now throw it through the doorway and close the door. Turn around. We want to look you over. Take your arms away from your tits and keep your hands clasped behind your neck. That's the way you always stay until I tell you otherwise. Keep turning around slowly. Hey, aren't you becoming a nice shade of red. Now, bounce up and down on your toes. I want to see your tits bounce, too. I didn't tell you to stop. Keep bouncing. Okay, take your panties off and exchange them with the ones in the drawer. You've done this before; you know the drill. Damn, you stink. Well, there are two tongues here that will clean you up – and out."

The woman takes off her panties and goes to the panty drawer. She hasn't uttered a word since she entered the room. She is so embarrassed to be naked in front of Ken and the other two women, one of them his wife, that she is trembling. When she opens the drawer, the smell makes her take a step back. She sighs, leans down and picks up the panties and drops hers in the drawer. She closes the drawer and turns to face the other three. She's hoping for a reprieve, but no one says anything, and she knows better than to hesitate too long. She turns the soiled underwear inside out and folds it, so the crotch is on top. Her eyes tear up, and she tries to compose herself. Then she closes her eyes and places the panties inside her mouth with the crotch against her tongue. When the taste assaults her tongue and taste buds, she convulses slightly, gags, and almost throws up. She reaches up to pull the vile thing from her mouth, but thinks better of it and clasps her hands behind her neck. She wishes she could have refrained from coming here tonight. She knows that wasn't an option for her. She is Ken's sex toy for the night.

"Have you douched, bathed or washed your pussy during the last two week?" Ken asks. She shakes her head 'no'. "Have you worn your panties twenty four hours a day?" he asks. She nods yes. Her saliva, mixed with the secretions in the soiled panties, is building up in her mouth, and she is forced to swallow. The taste is increasing with the increase in saliva. She is about to pass out from the awful taste. She has eaten pussy many times before at Ken's command, but the women were comparatively clean. These panties have been 'ripening' for two weeks. She prays to pass out. 

"Have you been masturbating at least twice a day while you've had your panties on? Ken probes. Again the hapless woman nods 'yes'. "Okay, suck the crotch of these. I want them to be cleaner when you take them out of your mouth. Her concave cheeks show that she is sucking. Her legs begin to wobble, her knees are about to give way, but she manages to stay standing. 

It has been only about twenty or thirty minutes since she arrived, and her ordeal has just begun. She has to hold up until twelve, Ken's witching hour. She knows that if she falters or hesitates, Ken will make her go home naked. She thinks about the distance from the taxi, in the parking lot, to her building and the walk up two flights of stairs to her apartment. That would be even more unbearable than anything Ken does to her in this house. There may not be many people around after midnight, but what if there were? She must be strong; she must not hesitate when he asks something of her. Silently, she curses her addiction to Ken; she curses Ken; and she curses herself.

Ken has tentatively agreed not to send women home naked; however, they are not to know that; Celia has had to agree to that proviso. Ken knows that the threat of going home naked is the key to making women do as he demands. He also knows that they want desperately to sleep with him. He realizes that his power over them is very strong.

"Missy, have you had your period during the last two weeks? Ken leered. The woman shakes her head 'no'. "Bummer," sneered Ken. "That would have made this session a little more interesting if you still had some menstrual residue in your cunt. 

Are you aware of what is going to happen to you?" She shrugs, closes her eyes, and nods yes. She shrugs again. 

"Do you want me to lay it out for you?" She nods again. 

"Nod if you understand each of my instructions." She nods.

"You and I are going to have sex in any position I want you in." She nods enthusiastically. 

"You are going to have sex with your hostesses in any way I want you to." She nods again, resignedly. 

"I am going to hurt you in whatever way I want to." She nods, her eyes downcast.

"Look at me. Do you have any objection to being abused, beaten, or used in any manner I want?" She shakes her head no. 

"Do you have any objection to being needled?" Her eyes widen. She stares at Ken for a second. She groans softly and shakes her head no. 

"Are you ready for anything that happens to you here tonight?" She takes a deep breath and nods. 

"Is your name Missy?" She starts to shake her head no, but realizes her error and enthusiastically nods yes.

"Now that we know who you are, get on your knees and pay homage to your hostesses." 

Susan and Celia stand, pull off their dresses, and sit back down on the bench. Ken gives his witch permission to pull the panty gag from her mouth and hold it. She kneels in front of Celia, bends, and deep kisses Celia's labia and vagina. After a minute or so, she moves between Susan's legs to her genitals and kisses them, also. She puts the gag back into her mouth and looks up at Ken, waiting for her next instruction. 

He motions for Celia to get on the bed. As she does so, she begins to panic. The witches' kisses have stimulated her, but she is not looking forward to licking the woman's unclean genitals. She closes her eyes and waits.

Ken tells the woman to straddle Celia's mouth and pull her labia open. He can smell her and is excited by the thought of Celia being trapped under the woman's crotch and having to eat her odorous pussy. He is starting to get an erection.

Celia feels the woman's open, wet, unshaved genitals pressing down on her mouth. She grits her teeth and tries to block out the woman's scent. After a few seconds, she opens her mouth and thrusts her tongue vigorously up into the woman's canal and begins to lick furiously hoping to make her come, so she can get the woman off her face. The woman's juices flow into her mouth and Celia is forced to swallow continuously or be strangled by them.

She tries valiantly to reach the woman's G Spot to make her come, but her tongue isn't long enough. Ken has told her to stay away from Missy's clit, so she continues tongue fucking the woman. The combination of odor and the women's vaginal secretions pouring into her mouth is more than Celia can bear, and without thinking, she sinks her teeth into Missy's labia. The woman screams through the panty gag and comes on Celia's face and into her mouth. Ken angrily slaps Missy's breasts back and forth.

"I didn't give you permission to come, cunt. You'll pay for that." He is fully erect. Although she had no control over her orgasm, Missy knows better than to argue with Ken. That would lead to severer punishment. At Ken's signal, she lifts off of Celia's face and kneels on the bed. She is still secreting and it is running down her legs and wetting the bed sheets. 

She is hungry to have Ken penetrate her, but he thrusts into Susan for a dozen strokes; he grabs Missy's hair and pulls her mouth to his penis; she licks Susan's juices from him; then he inserts himself into his wife a dozen times and again pulls Missy's head to suck him. He doesn't allow himself to ejaculate into any orifice. 

"Are you ready to be fucked, cunt?" Ken asks Missy. Again, a very enthusiastic nod.

"Okay, get into a doggy posture. Spread your knees as far apart as you can. Susan, slide under her in a 69 position. Put a pillow under your head so you're mouth is up against her pussy. Start licking."

Ken kneels behind Missy and slides his penis into her. She is so wet that there is no resistance. She pushes back against him each time he thrusts. Susan is trying to keep contact and make both Ken and Missy feel her tongue. She is licking Missy's pussy at the point where Ken's penis enters her. Missy's secretions are dripping into her mouth, but they seem to have less scent than before Celia ate her. Evidently, Celia had cleaned the woman out before Susan's turn. 

After each of several thrusts, Ken would pull out of Missy and let Susan suck and lick Missy's juices. As Missy became dryer, there was increased friction and Ken was getting closer to ejaculation. Missy was also getting closer to her next orgasm. When she came, she became wetter and Ken was able to put off his orgasm. This sequence continued until Missy's vaginal lubrication began to slow and the friction caused Ken to ejaculate. Missy came at the same time. After Susan licked Ken clean, he told her to suck his semen from Missy's vagina. It took her several minutes to remove it all and Missy came again. Susan cleaned out that fluid too and looked to Ken to see what he wanted next. 

"Susan, straddle Missy's face and piss in her mouth. Missy, don't lose a single drop." 

Missy screamed, "Noooo." She almost fainted; she had made a boo-boo, and Ken was sure to exact another punishment. Maybe he'd forget, but she doubted it. She opened her mouth wide and pressed her lips up around Susan's pubes. She began swallowing frantically as Susan's pee poured into her waiting mouth. Ken watched Missy's throat move as she drank the urine. Susan emptied her bladder and looked to Ken again. 

He told both women to sit up. While Missy was still in an orgasmic daze, he pulled up off the bed. He had her stand spread legged over an aluminum post while he raised the post into her genitals until she was on tiptoe. He let her stand that way for a few minutes until her legs began to tire. He opened a packet of acupuncture needles and inserted all four through the woman's right nipple. She moaned as each needle entered her flesh, but she kept her hands clasped behind her neck. 

When Ken opened the second packet, Celia made the mistake of telling Ken that their agreement was for a total of four needles. Susan tried to stop Celia, but the damage was already done. Ken glared at Celia as he inserted three of the needles through Missy's left nipple. He told Celia that she was never to interfere with whatever he did and to show her what her outburst caused, he placed the last needle at the tip of Missy's breast and pushed it through the end of the nipple and back into her breast. Missy screamed into the gag but did not move her hands from behind her neck. 

Ken stared at Celia, daring her to open her mouth again. Celia stayed mute. She didn't want her words to translate into more pain for Missy. Ken left Missy on the post for another five minutes and then lowered the top part out of her vagina. Missy sobbed and moved her legs together. She wanted desperately to sit or even lie down on the bed, but Ken had other plans. He told her to follow him and he led her down to the basement. Missy's ordeal was about to enter phase two. 

Ken has Missy stand spread legged, her hands still clasped behind her neck. Celia and Susan are watching as Ken walks around Missy looking her over, decided what he's going to do to her naked body.




Joanna's Story Ch. 05



"Missy, you've had a long enough time with those filthy panties in your mouth to know whose pussy they came from. If you can tell me from the taste who they belong to, I'll let you take all the needles out of your tits. I plan to use the flicker whip on your ass, thighs, and tits. If you try to name the panties owner and fail, you'll have to keep all the needles in your tits until you get home, AND I'll beat you with the sjambok, too." Ken turns and stares at Celia, daring her to object. Celia keeps quiet.

"Well Missy, do you want to try?" Missy thinks about it. She believes that she is the first of Ken's witch-bitches to come here, so the panties probably don't belong to any of them. They are most likely either Celia's or Susan's. She has a fifty-fifty chance of naming the owner. It's still too big a risk and she shakes her head no.

"I'll give you another chance, Missy. Take the panties out of your mouth and hold them over your nose. Inhale deeply for a few minutes. If you can't tell by the taste, maybe you can tell from the smell." Missy removes the gag and holds it against her nose. The panties are very wet from her saliva and the odor is very strong. She closes her eyes and inhales until Ken tells her to decide. She can't make up her mind: Celia's or Susan's. It would still be a wild guess and she decides against it. She shakes her head no, again. 

Ken laughs. "Another chance, Missy. Name the owner and I'll let you take most of the needles out of your nipples and I won't use the sjambok if you guess wrong. 

"Missy blurts out, 'Susan's'". At Ken's bidding, she takes the soiled panty gag from her nose and puts it back in her mouth. Ken keeps her waiting to tell her if she were right or not.

Finally, Ken tells her she named the panties' owner and that she can take out all but one needle from each nipple. He tells her to leave the needle that is through her nipple into her breast. Missy begins to pull the needles out very carefully. She tries pulling one out slowly, but the pain is extended as the needle is withdrawn. She pulls the next one out quickly, but the pain is much sharper. Finally, she has them all out but one in each nipple as Ken demanded. Her breasts are on fire. She returns her hands to her neck and waits for the next indignity.

"Missy, I'm going to hang you from the ceiling, beat you, drip hot wax on you, snap your clit, and stick needles in your ass. Do you fully understand? Take the gag out of your mouth and answer. Tell me if you object to any of those punishments." 

Missy removes the gag again, takes a deep breath, and says, "Yes, Ken, I fully understand and no, I don't object to any punishment." She puts the disgusting gag back in her mouth. Each time she returns the gag to her tongue, the taste assaults her taste buds anew; she grimaces and shudders each time; Ken grins.

"Missy, take the gag out of your mouth again. How many times did you orgasm upstairs? When Celia licked you? When I fucked you? When Susan sucked you? On the post? When I put needles in your tits?"

"Oh Ken, I wasn't counting, but I did come when Celia licked me, when you fucked me, and when Susan sucked your cum out of me. I got close when you shoved the post into my pussy; I came when you were putting needles in my nipples and got close again when I was pulling them out. I think I came about six or seven times."

Ken turned and looked at Celia as if to say, "See. This masochistic bitch can come when she's being hurt." Celia was stunned by this revelation. She thought that because of her unusual sensitivity, she was unique in being turned on by pain. Susan wasn't surprised at all. She had experienced pleasure and orgasms often by Ken's cruel ministrations. She suspected that, like her, most of Ken's wicked witches were masochists, or they wouldn't keep coming back for more pain and Ken's demented sex time after time.

Ken cuffed Missy's wrists and attached them to a spreader bar; he hauled Missy up until she was up off the floor. He cuffed her ankles and fastened them to two bowling balls; he told Missy not even to think of moving the balls. He shoved the bowling balls as far apart as Missy's legs allowed, stepped back, and admired the woman's nude body hanging in mid air. He was getting somewhat erect. Maybe it would happen if he focused on what he was about to do to the woman's sexy body.

He picked up the flicker whip and started its action against Missy's buttocks; he moved it up and down covering the fleshy part of her rear to her thighs just above her knees. He kept it flickering until her skin became red and bruised; he moved around in front of her and began the whip's dance from half way between her knees and crotch and moved it steadily upwards, paying particular attention to the insides of her thighs. As her skin turned bright red he raised his aim, but bypassed her pubes and reddened her belly; when that skin brightened, he moved the whip downward and focused on her pubic area. 

Within a minute, Missy erupted in an extremely strong orgasm. Ken kept the whip's blur on the area of her clitoris, and she began to orgasm sequentially. He could tell when each orgasm occurred as Missy would groan loudly and her body would spasm. When he judged that twelve minutes had elapsed, he slowed the whip's movement until he stopped flicking it completely. 

There was a small puddle on the floor directly beneath Missy's vagina; she was gasping and shuddering and having a difficult time catching her breath. She was obviously in pain but seemed consciously oblivious to it. She opened her eyes, took several deep breaths, and smiled as much as the panty gag allowed. She had enjoyed her punishment immensely. Ken had neglected to use the flicker on her breasts and she hoped he wouldn't remember. The flicker whip would have caused her needled breasts severe pain. However, Ken wasn't going to let her maintain that orgasmic glow. He was already planning her next ordeal. 

Celia and Susan had been mesmerized by this performance and were speechless. Susan was almost sorry that Celia had forbidden Ken from abusing her. She was highly aroused and her vagina was leaking. Even Celia was turned on by what she had just witnessed. That was about to change.

Ken unhooked Missy's ankles from the bowling balls and hooked them to ropes leading to widely spaced eye bolts in the ceiling; he hauled the woman up by her legs until her feet were close to the ceiling; then he lowered her upper torso until it was directly under her legs. He reattached her wrists from the spreader bar to the bowling balls on the floor and let her hang there for several minutes. 

When Ken picked up the long plaited whip, Celia was about to object, but held her peace until she could determine what he planned to do with it. Ken unfurled the long leather and with a practiced aim, he unleashed it at Missy's clitoris. Missy shrieked through her gag, her body convulsed, and she lost control of her bladder. Her urine cascaded down her body and onto the floor. She was drenched like Ken had been drenched when Celia would ejaculate on him when she orgasmed. Ken turned and grinned sarcastically at Celia, but Celia failed to identify with the situation. She was horrified by the scene and would have strongly protested any further use of the bullwhip; however, Ken put it away and Celia sat back down in the chair. She wasn't even aware that she had stood up. 

Missy was sobbing uncontrollably. She had gone from delicious orgasms to seething agony; she thrashed around and tried to raise her hands to assuage the pain, but, of course, the bowling balls, that her wrists were attached to, prevented that; however, Ken had to move the balls apart again. Missy, in her misery, had pulled the heavy weights directly under her. Ken let her return to some semblance of control while he stood there and enjoyed his handiwork. He was getting better at hitting his target with each practice session. By the time Missy was able to bring her sobs to intermittent gasps for air, Ken was ready to continue his abuse of her.

Her vagina was still wet from her earlier orgasms; even the pain from the bullwhip stroke had not diminished the lubrication. It may have even increased it. Ken forced a three-inch wide candle into her vaginal canal; it extended several inches above her labia and Missy didn't seem aware of it. Ken lit the candle and sat down across from Celia and Susan. 

Susan turned to Celia and whispered, "Celia, I forgot about the candles. I should have mentioned them to you, but Ken had never put anything that wide into me. He would hang me feet first from the loft ceiling and put a tall taper into me and let it drip wax onto my genitals until it burned down where I could pee on it to put it out. Sometimes, I'd try too soon, miss and didn't have enough pee left to extinguish it when it got close to my pussy. Ken would let it almost burn me before he would douse the flame. 

He called me his candelabra. That was very scary, and I'd have nightmares about it burning down into my pussy and really burning my flesh. I'd wake up in horror and would have to check my genitals to make sure it hadn't actually happened. Sometimes I could actually feel and smell my flesh scorching, but it always turned out to be a bad dream. This could be excruciating for Missy, but you mustn't object or Ken might let the candle actually burn down past her lips." Celia nodded in agreement, but she was visibly shaken. She had had no idea of Ken's true brutality.

The candle burned a bowl in itself, under the wick, and filled up with hot wax. Missy, finally aware of the candle in her vagina, was careful not to move to avoid the wax from spilling over onto her pubes. Occasionally, the wax would drip over the edge and onto her lips and badly bruised clitoris. The first time it happened, Missy jerked and caused a cascade of hot wax over her entire genital area. Missy wasn't shaved and her pubic hair held the hot wax until the wax cooled and hardened. Missy thought the candle flame was burning her and began to thrash around which caused more hot wax to flow and collect in her pubic hair. 

Eventually, the wax buildup in her hair insulated her from further pain from the hot wax. When Ken realized what was happening, he grabbed a handful of her pubic hair and ripped it out. Missy fainted. When she woke seconds later, Ken started the process all over again. Finally, Ken became bored waiting for the wax to 'heat' up Missy and decided to force the issue; he forced a large butt plug into her rectum and then opened a package of hypodermic needles; he slid the sharp end into the fleshy part of Missy's right buttock. She screamed but tried not to cause hot wax to drip on her reddened pubes. Celia stood, prepared to face Ken, but Susan took her arm and pulled her back down onto the chair. Celia was crying softly. 

Ken put three more syringe needles into Missy's buttocks, but she held fast and didn't squirm. When the candle began to singe what remained of Missy's pubic hair, Celia, without thinking of consequences, jumped up and blew out the candle. With some effort, she was able to grasp the part of the candle that was still in Missy's vagina. In spite of her ordeal, Missy's vagina was still lubricated and the candle came out fairly easily. Ken was furious that Celia had interfered. He would punish Celia by causing Missy more pain.

He opened a packet of acupuncture needles and proceeded to insert one through Missy's clitoris, not the hood, but through the clitoral shaft. Missy screamed and bucked, spit out the gag and screamed again. When he thrust the second needle through her clitoris, Missy cried out and fainted again. Celia picked up the discarded spreader bar and told Ken that if he used another needle, she would hit him in the head with the bar until she cracked his skull and killed him. Ken dropped the unused needles and glared at Celia. 

"This doesn't end here, Celia. Missy is going to pay a high price for your interference." 

He ran up the stairs to the first floor, leaving Missy still hanging from the ceiling. Together, Celia and Susan lowered Missy and put her on the table. They found some salve in the basement medicine cabinet and applied it to her wounds. After removing the butt plug from her rear, they allowed Missy to sleep until it was time for her to take a cab home and then helped her walk up the stairs, as she couldn't navigate on her own. Each step was agony for her. They put her dress back on her and waited with her until they saw the lights of the taxi as it drove up. 

Susan handed the panty gag to Missy and she put it back in her mouth. In her weakened state, the renewed taste made her retch, but she managed to keep from throwing up. Celia put Missy's heels on her feet and she and Susan walked the woman to the door. She still had two acupuncture needles in her nipples, but Celia was concerned about what Ken would do to Missy if she removed them. She left them in, telling Missy to take them out when she got home. 

Ken was waiting outside, so Celia and Susan stayed inside and Missy walked unsteadily toward the cab. Her genitals hurt and she walked in an odd manner. Ken enjoyed watching her awkward gait. He opened the cab door and told Missy to take off her dress. Taking the dress off snagged the nipple needles causing her a lot of pain; Ken said that made up for the fact that he hadn't used the flicker on her tits. Missy was going home naked to make her pay for not wanting Susan to pee in her mouth. 

When the driver told Ken that he wasn't allowed to carry nude passengers, Ken pulled out his wallet and handed the cabby his business card: Mackey Cab Company. The driver became very apologetic and said he hadn't realized who Ken was. Ken gave the driver explicit instructions about taking Missy home. He handed the driver $100 and told him if he wanted to keep his job, he'd better stick to those instructions. He had Missy stand by the cab and took her picture with his old Hasselblad camera. He told her that if she didn't follow the cabby's orders, he would give the picture to the driver later. The cabby grinned and hoped Missy would renege.

Missy cries the entire time the taxi is taking her home. She is in pain, she is humiliated, she loathes herself, and she knows she has to walk from the cab to her apartment naked. She is so miserable that she wants to curl up in a fetal position and go to sleep. 

Instead of going into the parking lot, the driver pulls up on the side of her building. He turns and tells her she's home. There are two couples walking along the sidewalk, but the driver tells her to get out of the cab, anyway. She hesitates for a moment, shrugs her shoulders and leaves the cab just as the four people approach. She stops in front of them for a second thinking that if she didn't have the gag in her mouth, she would say, "Good evening. Nice night, isn't it? " Then she walks toward the building as fast as her high heels and sore groin will allow. The cabby follows about ten feet behind her carrying her dress. He is watching her bottom as walking quickly in high heels causes her buttocks to flash back and forth. As she ascends the steps to the second floor, he is right behind her watching her hip action. 

She reaches her apartment and turns to get her dress. The cabby suggests that she invite him in for a "nightcap". She shakes her head no, but thinking of the picture Ken took of her and his threat to give it to the driver, she offers her lips for a goodnight kiss. When he reaches for her, she points to the needles in her breasts so he'll be careful. He doesn't try to hug her, but as he kisses her, he reaches down and squeezes her buttocks. She winces but he thinks she is turned on by the kiss and asks again to go in with her. Another shake of her head and he leaves. 

Missy unlocks the apartment door, enters and pours a stiff drink for herself. She realizes that she still had the panty gag in her mouth when she kissed the driver. She pulls them from her mouth, throws them on the floor and drinks the liquor. She sprawls in a living room chair and waits for the alcohol to take effect, so she can pull the needles out of her nipples with some sedation. She is conflicted. She swears to herself that she'll never go back to Ken's house again, but knows that will only hold true until she gets another invitation.

Missy finally gets the courage to remove the needles; she pulls them out very slowly, grimaces at the pain, and then throws herself on the bed. She cries herself to sleep. An hour later, she awakens, goes to the bathroom, and puts a tampon in her vagina. She puts a towel on the bed where she has left a large wet spot. 

As she drifts off to sleep again, she muses about the deliciously thrilling evening she has just experienced and the many explosive orgasms she had endured; on the other hand, there was that one sour note in the entire exquisitely sexual symphony. Next time, she hoped that a little more lubricant be used with that huge butt plug. When Susan pulled it out, it felt like her intestines were being dragged out with it.

The next morning, she shaves what's left of her pubic hair; then she medicates the painful areas of her breasts and genitals. 

In the days to follow, as the pain diminishes, 'Missy' forgets how sharp the pain was initially, and she finds herself longing to be back in Ken's clutches. The subsiding discomfort only fuels her desire to further experience the exciting aspects of Ken's abuse. She has to wear a panty liner to absorb the manifestation of that desire. She realizes how truly masochistic she has become; how necessary it is for her sexual gratification. No Mr. Nice Guys for her.

****

Dear readers,

While written stories on Literotica and other sites don't seem to completely portray the entire spectrum of abuse that women are willing to endure, sites that show clips and feature films of brutality reflect much more. 

My words here are not adequate to show that cruelty. To see for yourselves, go to those sites that feature caning, whipping, machines, shackles, chains, animals, etc. The list goes on and on. You'll find them an eye opener as I did, or rather, as TT showed them to me. 

The semi factual story and the follow up depleted my and TT's ideas. I had asked for readers to send me their experiences and fantasies that they would like to see in print, but didn't have time or opportunity to write for themselves. Those failed to materialize. I am blank at the moment and will return to writing non-fiction until some juicy ideas come to mind. 

Thanks Jim, Kris, N H, and a bunch of others for your understanding and support. I apologize if a hiatus lets you down. (I have been told by some readers to STOP apologizing, and I apologize for failing to do so.)

Please keep writing to me especially if you would like me to 'flesh' in your plot.

As General Douglas MacArthur said when he left the Philippines in WWII, "I shall return."



Joanna's Story Ch. 06



My intro to Chap 5 brought an e-mail asking how the stories were semi factual. I'll have to repeat some of what I said in the last intro. The story(s) are actually one with flashbacks. 

In my mind's eye, I see the people I know populating the story. You may not see them in these roles, but I do.

1.The characters are mostly real: 

TT, my lover, is Lyssa of the story; 

Karla , a former lover, is actually a beautiful Japanese/Polynesian girl who lives and works in the U.S. 

(Paula, if by any chance you happen to read this, please reconsider and come live with TT and me.); 

The girl 'on the peg' - I didn't think up that plot. TT found a film clip of her standing with the post in her vagina. However, the base of the post in my story was different; 

The girl with pierced nipples and labia (my editor); 

Brutus and the puppy are really German Shepherds. Brutus was never actually chained to a girl's nipples or pussy (or pussy cat); 

And, ta da, I am Joanna of the story.

Ken is the embodiment of all men in the world who have the fantasy of being Ken in the story and having access to many women and forcing them to do his bidding. 

Please don't get me wrong. I like men and have men friends. It's just that I crave female companionship. 

I love her face and body. I love her satiny, smooth skin; her long, shiny hair, her expressive eyes, her kissable mouth, her beautiful breasts, her sweet, suckable nipples, her round belly; 

I love her full, fleshy, squeezable bottom; her smooth, soft inner thighs against my face; her puffy outer pubic lips that I like to bite gently - or not so gently; her flower-petal like inner lips that I suck into my mouth; and peeking out of its little hatlike hood, her cute little nub that I love to lick until it stands up and does battle with my tongue; 

I adore her delectable vagina – pussy – cunt with its delicious juices, sometimes sweet/salty, sometimes tangy; I love the heady scent of it; the soft, spongy feel of her vaginal canal on my tongue. YUM!

I love when I've made her come and her juices really flow. 

Oooooh. Oh. Sorry, where was I. No, I'm not a man hater. 

As I said in the Chapter 05 intro, changes were made to protect the not so innocent.

2.I had several female lovers in the U.S. while attending university. However, I had been in the closet and stayed there when I returned to the UK until diminutive TT dragged me (tall and, ahem, big boned), kicking and screaming, into her lesbian world. That took considerable seduction and coercion, not unlike the story. My colleagues are still unaware of my orientation though. 

3.The reader wants to know why I put all the intros and endnotes into the story. Why didn't I just write the story without them? I thought I explained that, honey. This IS the story. Your question is even part of the story. 

I wanted the story to be different somehow from other Literotica stories. I wrote it from the perspective of a writer writing about her perspective. Unusual? Confusing? I suppose. However, if you knew how my warped mind works, you wouldn't think this is unusual.

Any more questions?

I really didn't intend to write such harsh treatment of Ken's witches; however, after doing research for the story, TT insisted, badgered, and threatened (the withholding of certain sexual favors.) until I agreed to use most or all of the nasty items she dug out of Internet sex sites. As you can see by reading Joanna's Story Chapter 05 that I caved in and wrote it as TT saw it. Because my heart wasn't in it, it seems forced.

I'll get even with her. Just wait. I might even reveal what TT stands for. TT, are you reading this?

Now, if you have sampled rough sex sites, you are probably inured to the hard-bitten sex they espouse, but I've led sort of a sheltered life and my face tingles when I'm exposed to it. I may write it, but I am still not comfortable doing so. 

I've already bored you to tears, and you wish I'd shut up, so now on to the (TT's) story.

Joanna's Story

And the "beat" goes on!

Over the next year and a half, there is a constant stream of Ken's witches through the house and basement. The sex and abuse has blurred for Celia and Susan, but the women continue to want Ken's hands-on approach to their sexual gratification. Of the original seventeen that had wanted to be included in this hall of shame, only eight have weathered his treatment. The humiliation and/or abuse he has inflicted on them has driven the other nine away; however, five more masochistic women have signed on to make the current number thirteen. Ken has decided to keep his Wicca Witches to that number so that each woman visits his bed and dungeon once every three months. In that way, he won't get bored with any one of them; furthermore, by the time the next quarter year arrives, each woman has forgotten how painful and humiliating her ordeal was and any physical evidence of Ken's abuse has long since disappeared. With the passage of three months, they are eager to be with him again.

He has stuck by his agreement with Celia, more or less, with the exception of sending those women, who have displeased him in any way, home naked. He steadfastly demands that he keep that prerogative in order to keep his witches in line. He has also thought up new and nasty ways to hurt and demean the women, and Celia has been unable to prevent them. He had agreed to discontinue the use of heavy whips; however, he harangues Celia constantly to permit him to use the rhino penis sjambok at least. She flatly refuses to let him beat his women with that evil instrument and threatens to go to his father if he doesn't abide by their contract. 

Karla has returned to Mackey and is now working as the head ER nurse at the local hospital. She has her own apartment, but spends much of her free time with Celia.

Although they have invited Susan to share their lives and their bed, she realizes that Celia loves Karla and not her. She is heart broken. Because of all the time she has been with Celia and having sex with her, she is in love with Celia. She knows that Celia will never choose her over Karla. Although the other women have invited her to be in a threesome with them, she knows she'll always be the other woman. She decides to move to a larger city and leave both Celia and Ken. After Susan leaves, Karla moves in with Celia.

Unfortunately, the threat of his father's influence and loss of his stipend comes to an abrupt end. Ken's and Celia's parents have been to another state to see a much touted football game. On the return trip, Mackey's private airplane loses radar contact and in a heavy fog, the plane crashes into the side of a mountain. All passengers are killed.

The elder Mackey's attorneys inform Ken that his father's factories have been left to the employees, and he has been denied any ownership. The local and out of town businesses have been placed in the hands of trustees, and Ken will receive a further stipend amounting to several times the current amount. Most of the business income will go to the local hospital, clinics, schools, etc. He is the owner of the local businesses in name only. The only businesses left to him outright in his father's will are the Mackey Cab Company and his photo studio. He finds himself spending a lot more time there, seducing women and abusing his two female assistants.

Celia has inherited her father's business, but its operation is to remain in the hands of its current management. She is to receive a large allowance, but the rest of the business income will be placed in trust for her, but in the event her marriage fails, she will have access to the trust. 

Ken finds himself no longer under any parental constraint. He no longer has to abide with the agreement he made with Celia. He uses the sjambok on several women leaving deep welts and bruising on their buttocks and thighs. He seems more content and his drinking lessens. 

Celia cannot tolerate this brutality and advises Ken again that she will murder him in his sleep if he persists in using the cruel instrument. He knows she is serious and discontinues using the rhino penis on his witches. However, he becomes increasingly morose, storms around the house, and begins drinking heavily again. When he comes home drunk, he goes to the basement and pounds an upholstered chair with the sjambok. The chair is slashed to ribbons, but Ken continues to slash at it. When the chair finally disintegrates, Ken hangs Celia's dressmaking form from the ceiling and uses the sjambok on that unresisting effigy.

Ken has discovered that one of his Wicked Witches enjoys his brutality and he talks her into agreeing to let him use the sjambok on her. He promises her that she will be his witch-mate when he can get rid of his wife. The woman talks Celia into relenting in this one case, and finally, Celia consents if the woman will sign an agreement and have it notarized.

Ken brings her directly to the basement on Wednesday nights and puts her own soiled panties in her mouth. He places her on her hands and knees and fucks her from the rear. He doesn't want to see her face. Then he hangs her from the ceiling, and methodically beats her from just above her knees up to her fleshy buttocks. Their sessions become further and further apart as she takes longer to heal when new welts begin to merge with previous ones. Ken is becoming more and more frustrated. 

One Wednesday night, she tells Ken that she can't bear the rhino penis beatings any longer and he rages up and down the basement, slashing at anything the whip will reach.

When he calms down, he hangs the woman upside down and tapes her mouth to make sure she can't spit out her panties. He pulls her legs far apart and locks the ceiling track that she is attached to. He blindfolds her, so she can't see what he is about to do. 

Then he unfurls the long plaited whip and proceeds to snap it into her pussy. She screams through the panty gag, but it is muffled and the women upstairs don't hear her. Ken unleashes a second strike and the woman screams again and, in an adrenalin surge, she pulls the bowling balls her wrists are attached to, up off the floor. When she drops them, Ken stings her again, this time right on target, her clitoris. She bucks and jerks, trying to get free of her bonds. A fourth, fifth and a sixth time, Ken unleashes the whip against her genitals. 

Suddenly, she stops bucking and flailing. She gags and chokes and starts to turn blue. Ken tears the tape from her mouth and finds that she has half swallowed, half inhaled her panties. He manages to pull them free, but the woman is unconscious. Instead of calling the paramedics, Ken calls his cab company and has them send a taxi. He has the cabby come in to the basement through the outer door. Together they carry the stricken woman to the cab. He instructs the driver to take the woman to the emergency room, but to tell them that he found the woman lying beside the road outside of town. He peels ten one hundred dollar bills from his money clip and hands it to the driver for his trouble. 

When the driver is gone, Ken paces the floor for a while and then leaves to go drinking. He passes the bartender two one hundred dollar bills and tells him to tell anyone who asks that Ken has been in the bar for several hours. 

The following day, Karla goes to work and learns about the woman who had been brought in the night before with whip marks all over her buttocks, thighs and groin.

Karla recognizes Ken's handiwork and calls Ken's psychiatrist. She doesn't tell Celia what Ken has done as she knows that Celia might take matters into her own hands.

Celia has received a phone call from a local psychiatrist's office asking her to visit the doctor. She returns the call and asks what it pertains to, but the woman says only that the doctor wants to see her as soon as possible. Celia makes an appointment and the next day goes to the doctor's office.

Celia enters the psychiatrist's office and tells the receptionist her name. The woman buzzes the doctor who immediately comes into the waiting room.

Hello, Mrs. Mackey. I'm glad you could come to see me. How are you?

Hello, Doctor. I'm fine. What did you want to see me about? Isn't this a bit unusual?

Come into my office where we can talk. Have a seat. 

Doctor, is this about Ken?

Yes, Mrs. Mackey, and it's very important that we talk. You see, Mrs. Mackey, I can't divulge doctor patient confidentiality without Ken's permission or unless someone's life is at risk – the patient's or someone else's. I've been urging Ken for months to bring you here or ask you to visit me. I finally had to imply that I'd have to file a report with the police if that didn't happen. This is quite a touchy matter, and I don't really know where to begin. 

As you must know, Ken has been seeing me twice a week for the last two years. Before that, he had been seeing several other specialists in this state and others for the previous seventeen or eighteen years. Ken has a serious problem and it controls him. We haven't been able to cure it or even keep it in check. I'm sure you're aware that he has a sex addiction that drives him to extremes. I know what he does to you and other women from what he tells me and from the files of eight other doctors that he has seen. 

Mrs. Mackey, Ken is a ticking time bomb; he's liable to explode at any time. He has used women since he was about twenty to fuel his addiction and give him a certain amount of peace. 

I know that sounds strange because he certainly doesn't give women peace. You must be a saint to have put up with him for this long. At this time, the one thing he has used to keep a lid on his addiction has been denied him, and that's why I think that he's become dangerous. You're thinking, "How could he be more dangerous than he's been all along?" I'll explain.

Ken's life is a paradox. On one hand he has everything going for him: looks, money, power, women, you name, it he has it. On the other hand, he is so strongly addicted to sex that it controls every aspect of his life. But, Mrs. Mackey, he doesn't have the physical capacity to do what his addiction drives him to do; therefore, he resorts to abusing women to offset his lack of ability to consummate his need. You're thinking that I must be mistaken. He has half the women in Mackey to have sex with and that should satisfy him, but he's physically unable to do that. Ken is sexually dysfunctional. Yes, he can get an erection and ejaculate - - - once. That only whets his appetite, but he can't perform a second time. And this is why he abuses women. Ken is the male equivalent of a nymphomaniac, Mrs. Mackey. He does not get satisfaction from a single sexual encounter. He must try over and over and over, but it never happens. He is unfulfilled.

He gets only a taste of what he needs and then his body fails him. His paradox is that he has access to his desire – many women, but he doesn't have the capacity to sexually utilize them. He is outraged that these women can't turn him on enough for him to continue having sex with them, so he abuses them to punish them for their failure, for his failure, and to give him the power to make them "feel" him sexually. The damage he inflicts on them is his substitute for entering their bodies and ejaculating in them. Do you understand this, Mrs. Mackey?"

"I think I do, Doctor, but what can I do about it. I'm a victim of his addiction. And please call me Celia."

"There is absolutely nothing you can do about it, Celia. He has been to every known specialist in this part of the country and one in Europe. He has sought out alternative medicine and even quacks. He has had so many testosterone needles and acupuncture needles thrust into him that he says he feels like a pincushion. Of course, he passes that pain along to any masochistic woman who'll put up with it. 

Some quack had him sit on hot pads so long that he said it felt like his testicles were being fried. He passes that heat along to his women in the form of hot candle wax. Everything he is subjected to, he forces women to endure. If specialists can't help him, there is certainly nothing you can do to help. In the meantime, Ken is drinking more and more heavily to dull the anguish and frustration of his sexual dysfunction. 

Unfortunately, Celia, your marriage was a terrible mistake. It's not your fault. You were a victim of circumstances – your pregnancy and your father and his father forcing the marriage. But marriage and fatherhood just moved Ken into another phase of his addiction. If he ever loved anyone, it is Karla. He never beat or abused her except to have her perform oral sex on other women. Marriage to Karla might have ameliorated his addiction but certainly not cure it. The more women that were available to have sex with, the more frustrated he became. Karla may never have put up with more than one other woman at a time, and Ken's addiction might have wound down to some degree rather than escalate." 

"Oh Doctor, I feel terrible. I could have had an abortion and refused to marry him. I'm partially to blame for the pain and humiliation of his 'witches'."

"Celia, we don't know that. What I said was very simplistic. It may not have been any different if you hadn't married him. His inability to sexually penetrate women led to substitute measures. He needs to have women feel and experience his sexuality. The sjambok that he uses is made from a rhinoceros' penis. Can you see the implication there? Striking a women's rear, thighs, and genitals over and over is a substitute for intercourse. Seeing the welts and bruising he's inflicted is a substitute for ejaculation – for his semen. She has felt his sexual power and has retained his substitute seed." 

"I do see the symbolism of those acts, Doctor, but why does he have to humiliate them so?"

"Celia, if you're referring to the panty gags, that is easily explained. Ken has learned from an early age how to turn a girl or woman on. He knows instinctively how to press her buttons to make her juices flow. Unfortunately, her very smell of arousal nauseates and disgusts him. Instead of reveling in that aroma of her femaleness, he is sickened by it. He knows that the scent will not stimulate him to sexual activity. And because he can't stimulate her orally because of that scent, he needs another woman to provide cunnilingus in his place. Then he must punish the women by increasing that odor as much as possible. It's an ever-increasing upward spiral. 

If you mean why he puts foreign objects into their vaginas and plugs into their anuses, it's rather obvious. Since the women aren't stimulating him to erection, those objects are a substitute for his penis, and he wants them as large as will fit into the women's orifices.

As far as sending them home naked, he finds it necessary to have the women feel his power even after they have left him to go home. Naked, they are still aware of his influence over them. Ken doesn't think up these cruelties out of a clear blue sky. They are manifestations of his innermost needs.

The reason I had to speak with you is that Ken has reached his boiling point. You and other women he has in his grasp are in imminent danger. He doesn't think: "I'm going to damage or kill someone." However, he has come close to doing just that and one of these days, he will go over the edge. You really have only two choices. Allow him to use the sjambok, his substitute penis, which will only delay the inevitable, or you must get far away from him. Well, you can see where he is headed, can't you?"

"Yes Doctor, thank you for the warning. I realize that must have been very difficult for you do."

Celia drives home and repeats to Karla what the psychiatrist had told her. Karla tells Celia not to feel guilty about marrying Ken and that she has actually saved Karla from making a similar mistake. 




Joanna's Story Ch. 06



The Friday night witches' covens continue for some weeks while Celia and Karla struggle to come up with a plan to stop them and remove Ken from their lives. In a twist of fate, Ken, himself, provides the answer. 

Ken's Saturday night drinking has reached the point where he comes home staggering drunk. One night, the two women hear his car pull into the driveway, but after a half hour, he still hasn't entered the house. Karla goes to the door, opens it, and looks toward the garage. Ken's car headlights are illuminating the garage door, but that door is closed. Karla sees Ken lying face down in the freezing snow and calls Celia. The two women go back in the house and Celia picks up the phone to call 911. Karla puts her hand over Celia's and pushes the handset back on the cradle. They stand there for a few minutes without speaking. Then Karla leads Celia to their bedroom and turns on the TV. They lie on the bed watching the late night show until they fall asleep in each other's arms.

The next morning, a sheriff's deputy knocks on the door, and when Celia opens it, he tells her that neighbors reported seeing someone lying in the driveway. He says he's sorry to inform her that her husband has frozen to death in the snow. Celia gasps and thanks him. He asks if she wants someone to come stay with her, but she says that she has a houseguest. He leaves and a few minutes later, the paramedics who have been checking Ken's body, place it in an emergency vehicle and drive off.

Ken's funeral is attended by Celia, Karla, Joanna, some distant relatives, a few close friends, and managers of the family's business enterprises. The interment is attended by these same individuals and by forty-one weeping townswomen. No other men have attended. Ken is buried along with his unsavory reputation.

Ken's Wicca and his Wicked Witches no longer exist.

Celia now finds herself a very wealthy widow. The trust that her father had set up for her is now open to her as her marriage has ended. The local and out of town businesses that were in Ken's and her name now revert to her and Joanna. Ken's stipend now reverts to her.

The money available to her is more than she can ever spend. She stipulates that the moneys going to do good works in Mackey will continue to go to them. She has the Mackey attorneys sell off two of the out of town businesses and with that money, she buys a private school that has been educating gifted students. She endows it richly. When the woman who runs the school retires, Celia provides her with a good annuity. Unable to find the 'right' person to operate the school, Celia takes over the job herself. She invites Karla to be her partner and school nurse. She adores her new life with Karla and the school.

Celia and Karla go to the photo studio to talk to the two women who manage it – and use it to enhance their sex lives. The women are more than aware that Ken is dead, and that they will no doubt be out of jobs; however, Celia makes them an offer they can't refuse. They can stay and operate the business and receive not only their current salary, but also half of what Ken was taking for himself. 

There are stipulations of course. They must turn over all of the secret files, tapes, and stills that they and Ken have made and kept locked up for years. The files must go to the women who were photographed or destroyed if the women can't be located. Secondly, the studio must be operated as a business and not a hobby. Thirdly, the women could continue to utilize the studio for their sexual purposes as many of the townswomen would be devastated without that facility. And lastly, the balance of the businesses income will go to needy students who will attend their private school. 

Celia also made clear that should there be any scandal attached to the studio, the women would be let go and the business closed. She told them that if the business were run properly, when they were old enough to retire, they would receive a pension as soon as she found someone else to run the studio. 

The two women were stunned at their good fortune and offered sexual favors to Celia and Karla anytime they wanted. They were thanked but turned down.

Joanna has come to the realization that much of what her father did in the anteroom and basement has to do with kinky sex. She has put two and two together and come up with sex. She and her giggling girl friends have discussed the prurient aspect of sex but haven't actually experienced it. Joanna, at eighteen, is still a virgin.

Being an inquisitive eighteen year old in a prudish society, she wanted to find out what her father was doing with and to the women who parade through the house.

The basement was off-limits to her, but she occasionally heard sounds coming from there that she couldn't identify. There were sounds and voices that came from her mother's bedroom and the anteroom where her father not slept. Her bedroom was on the other side of the house, and those sounds didn't actually reach her room. 

When one of her father's lady friends would come to the house and go into the anteroom, Joanna would sneak down the hall and try to listen to what was going on. However, since the house was so well built and almost soundproof, she only heard very loud sounds. Most of what she heard was the loud pitched voice of a woman who seemed to be in pain or very excited. She knew better than to ask her parents why the women made those noises. She would probably be reprimanded for sneaking around on those Friday nights. She was extremely curious and made up her mind to find out what was happening.

Her father's office/den was the room next to hers at the far end of the house. Since he had a lot of neat things in his office, Joanna would go in there when no one else was home. One day, as she was in the office, she discovered a TV set in a cabinet that had always been locked before. 

"Good," she thought. "When everyone else is asleep, I can come in here and watch TV." 

She turned the TV on and wondered what the room was that she was looking at. She pushed a button at the bottom of the set and got a different view of the same room. Every button she pushed just brought a different view to the screen. Dumb TV. She turned it off and looked at the rest of the cabinet. There were rows and rows of VHS boxes and a kind of board with many switches, knobs, and buttons on it. There was also a VHS player in the cabinet. Maybe when she was sure that everyone would be gone a long time she would play some of the tapes. She was curious as to what movies they were. She loved westerns and animal shows. Maybe she could find some among all those tapes. 

Friday night, another female friend of her father visited and Joanna slipped down the hall and watched as the woman took off her dress, throw it on the floor and go into the ante bedroom. When the door opened, Joanna saw her mother and Susan, the lady who stayed with her mother a lot of the time, sitting on the duvet bench at the foot of the bed. Joanna was dying of curiosity about why the lady was nude. She tried to listen at the door but was only able to hear mumbling. After ten or so minutes, she gave up and went back to her room. 

The following Friday, Joanna watched again as another woman threw her dress on the floor outside the anteroom and went in. Returning to her bedroom, she left the door ajar so she could see down the hall in case the door opened. She fell asleep and didn't wake up until morning.

The next Friday, the same thing occurred with another woman. Joanna was determined to stay awake and watched the anteroom door. Maybe if it opened, she could see what was happening in there. About an hour and a half later, the door did open. Her father, with a towel wrapped around his waste was leading the nude lady by the arm into the kitchen. Two minutes later, her mother and Susan, wearing robes, went into the kitchen. Joanna, in her bare feet, ran down the hall and looked into the kitchen just in time to see the basement door close. 

"Rats." She thought. "Now I'll never know what is happening. Wait a sec. Maybe that room in the TV picture is the basement." She went to her father's office but the cabinet was closed and locked. She said "rats" again and was about to leave but decided to look for the key. She looked through her father's desk. No luck. She stood on a chair and felt along the top of the cabinet. Yessss. She found the key. 

When she finally got the TV operating, she saw the naked woman hanging from the ceiling and her father was hitting her with a little stick that he whipped back and forth. Joanna was awed by the sight and sat and watched as her father did other intriguing things to the woman. She pushed one of the view buttons and saw her mother and Susan sitting and watching what her father was doing. Her mother had a fierce scowl on her face, but Susan was watching with rapt attention. Joanna watched for an hour until her father let the woman down to the floor and go to the basement steps. 

She saw her mother and Susan go to the woman and help her to a chair. Joanna turned the TV off, closed the cabinet, and watched down the hall as her father went back into the anteroom, his bedroom. She went back to her room and watched through the slightly opened doorway as her mother and Susan picked up the woman's dress and helped her put it on. 

They waited in the hall until a taxi pulled up outside. Then the three women went outside and after a few minutes, her mother and Susan came back and went into the master bedroom, her mother's room. Joanna closed her door and went to bed. She wasn't certain what she had witnessed, but she would watch on Fridays until she could figure it out.

After watching several more times, she had understood the what and how, but not the why. Even after watching the proceedings for several months, she still couldn't understand why her father was beating the women and putting candles in their vaginas. She had no one to talk to about it, and it upset her but not enough for her to stop watching. 

Something happened the next night that changed her life forever. On Sunday morning a policeman arrived very early and spoke with her mother. When the policeman left, she asked her mother what he wanted. Celia took Joanna into her bedroom. Karla was in her mother's bed instead of Susan. Susan had stopped coming to see her mother a few months before, when Karla started visiting. 

Celia sat Joanna down and told her about her father. Ken had spent so little time with Joanna that she was almost unconcerned that he was gone. She had learned a long time before that he wasn't particularly interested in her, so she had built up a mental barrier between them. She had no tears for him. 

Joanna had been curious about her father's bedroom after she had watched woman after woman enter it on Friday nights. She had gone into the room when no one was home and noticed a strange smell coming from her father's nightstand. When she opened the drawer, the odor was so strong that she gagged. She slammed the drawer shut but not before noticing there was a pair of ladies' panties in it.

After Ken's death, one of the first things that Celia did was to get rid of the nightstand in the anteroom. She and Karla also had the cold dank, dungeon-like basement remodeled into a game and play room. A lot of Ken's 'equipment' was stored in a basement locker. The women were concerned about someone seeing it if they tried to send it out with the trash of the renovation. The ceiling hooks and eyebolts were left in place when the ceiling was finished. They were so much an integral part of the ceiling that they would have had to be torn out making the renovation more difficult. The closed circuit cameras also remained in place.

Joanna didn't tell her mother about the closed circuit TV in the office and kept the cabinet closed and put the key away – in her bedroom. When she started watching the VHS tapes, she found they were all of the basement and of her father beating and abusing many women. She watched the tapes until her mother and Karla, who was now living with them, started having the house renovated. The cabinet was pried open and the tapes were removed, but the TV was left. A new lock was installed in place of the old one. After hunting for two weeks, Joanna found the new key but left it where it was.

Joanna had gone off to university where she majored in graphic and fine arts. After graduation, she became a freelance photographer for several magazines. After pursuing that career for a number of years, she returned to Mackey and taught fine arts and photography at Celia and Karla's school. A few years later, she finds herself too antsy to teach daily and having enough income that she needn't work, she teaches from time to time but spends much time taking pictures of flora and fauna in the neighboring mountains. 

One day, after substituting for an ill teacher, she becomes aware of a new English teacher. The young woman's face and figure take Joanna's breath away. Joanna, who has never been in either a hetero- or homosexual relationship knows this girl is the person she has been looking for all of her life. She must have this young woman no matter what. Having access to the schools personnel records, she finds all she can about the woman, Lyssa Dawn. She is crestfallen when she determines that the woman is straight and will probably never accept Joanna's lesbian nature. 

Joanna began making plans to snare this young woman even if it meant kidnapping her. She stalked Lyssa for days and found that she ate her lunch every day at the park across from the school. Gathering her nerve, she waited on the bench one day, and when Lyssa sat down to eat her lunch she introduced herself to Lyssa and they struck up a conversation and eventually became good friends. Lyssa was ecstatic to find a friend. Joanna began inviting Lyssa to dinner several times a week and wouldn't hear of Lyssa paying for anything. During their chat sessions, Lyssa had told Joanna her whole life history. Joanna knew as much about Lyssa as Lyssa did. 

Joanna was 37 years old. She was very attractive with dark blond hair, grey eyes, and a beautiful smile. She was 5'7" tall, weighed 122 pounds, had a very feminine figure, 35 inch bust, 24 inch waist, and 36 inch hips. She had a sexy walk and a slow, graceful, feminine movement as she sat down, stood up, or even when she seemed to be standing still. Lyssa, on the other hand was 22 years old, 5'2" tall, and weighed 116 pounds. She had a very ripe figure: 34-22-35. Her movements were not as graceful as Joanna's but were more childlike. She had blue-black hair, blue eyes, full lips, and an impish grin. She was beautiful. If she had been in a different place where there more single men, she would have been swamped with date offers and propositions.

Near the end of the school year, Lyssa's landlord told her that the building would have to be tented for termites and Lyssa would have to leave for two weeks. There were only five days left of the semester, and Lyssa was concerned about having to look for another apartment for such a short time. Joanna volunteered her second bedroom until Lyssa went home, so Lyssa told the landlord she would be moving and asked for her deposit to be returned. Joanna and Lyssa loaded Joanna's car with Lyssa's clothes and gear, and Joanna helped carry them to the second bedroom.

During that week, as Friday approached, Lyssa's colleagues told her how much they liked her and asked if she would return in September. She told them that she hadn't been offered a contract yet and didn't know if she'd be back. In her heart, she felt she should look for another job that paid a better salary.

Lyssa asked Joanna if she would drive her and her suitcases to the bus terminal on Sunday, so she could go back to her hometown. When she would be at the bus terminal with her ticket in hand, she would call the Coopers, tell them she was returning home, and ask if she could use the garage apartment. She didn't want them to go to any trouble getting the bedroom ready, so she would call at the last minute. She would also ask them if they could pick her up at the bus station. Lyssa never got to call them.

Lyssa woke up with a headache and wondered where she was and what had happened. She tried to move and found herself sitting on the floor of the media room. She was startled to find that she was nude and that her wrists were manacled to a triangular bar attached to the ceiling with a thin braided rope like mountain climbers used. She struggled to her feet but was only able to reach one of the chairs, as the rope wasn't long enough for her to go further. She sat down and waited to gather her wits.

*****

Dear readers,

The above ending to this chapter is the beginning of the story When Lyssa met Joanna. Joanna's Story is actually a flashback of WLmJ. To find out what happens next, you must read that story. The two parts of the same story become a loop. One part leads to the next part.

When I find the time, I will write an epilog to Joanna's Story that is not in that loop. However, it is not actually part of the story I intended to write. It is the product of my lover's imagination and her research that I've mentioned before. 

TT, the Lyssa of this story is actually in her later twenties, is a sukoshi (Little - I learned that word from Paula, the Karla in the story) bit over five feet tall and weighs nearly one hundred and five pounds. The rest of the description is fairly accurate.

Joanna (moi) is forty two years old, 5' 11'', 145 pounds (I WISH).

The rest of the description is fairly accurate, or so I'm told.

My reason for the, ahem, deception is fairly obvious. I wanted the two women in the story to be closer of a size. In real life, we try not to stand close together. Otherwise, we would look like the cartoon characters, Mutt and Jeff. Our colleagues, who are unaware that we reside in a closet, would never think we were a couple. That would be ridiculous. We would appear to be more like mother and daughter. It is our camouflage. 

Of course, I never wear high heels when we're together. I would be over six feet tall.

TT always wears heels. She is awfully cute, but we could never be a 'cute couple'.

TT jokes that she can stand in front of me and suck my nipples without bending over. I think that's an exaggeration – don't you? Well, maybe if I were wearing heels... and TT were barefoot.

I can't really tell you what TT stands because TT doesn't know, and I'd rather she didn't find out. If you would like to e-mail me and guess, I will confirm or deny – no – I'll tell you as long as TT doesn't find out. I'll give you a clue: TT is a very diminutive female. That's all I'll tell you except that it doesn't stand for TinyTot or TaterTot. 

Most of the nice sex scenes in my stories are my fantasies, but the BDSM scenes are TT's fantasies. She is turned on by kinky sex. I am turned on by romantic lesbian sex. Yum. My idea of BDSM is nothing like hers.

I probably will tell you a 'deep' dark secret of TT's in the epilogue. I feel the need to get revenge for her demand that I write chapter 5 and the upcoming epilogue to suit her dirty mind. 

Look for it in coming attractions in a Literotica theater nearest you. 

Oh, I nearly forgot. One last thing and then you can go back to your other worldly – and/or sexual - pursuits.

A reader asked how much of these stories is true and how much is fabrication. 

Well, IT'S A STORY, for heaven's sake. I've already told you that I have embellished and camouflaged. It's up to you to decide how much is fact and how much fiction. However, I assure you that most of my comments are, in fact, fact. 

You'll be very pleased to know that I'm going to shut up. I have nothing more to say – for now.



Joanna's Story Ch. 07



Dear readers,

This is the last chapter in the Lyssa/Joanna saga. It occurs after Ken has gone to his 'reward' and can no longer abuse his wicked witches, but they can't seem to let his memory fade away. 

This isn't actually my chapter of the story although I am writing it. As I've previously mentioned, it comes from the imagination of my partner, TT. She coerced me, or I wouldn't have written it. However, I have written two other stories that were suggested by readers, so I suppose I shouldn't begrudge TT her story.

This last chapter is cruel -- in my estimation at least. I would apologize for it, but I've been told by a reader to stop apologizing. That was an insidious ploy: I didn't actually apologize -- so there.

Well, I've procrastinated long enough. I better begin the ending. 

Chapter 07 The Epilogue

The Wicked Witches Return

A number of years have passed since the icy cold demise of the icy cold-hearted Ken Mackey. His widow, Celia, and her partner, Karla, had thought they had seen the last of Ken's Wicked Witch Wicca and the women he had abused; however, those women have kept his memory alive in their hearts -- and genitals -- and in the scars, both physical and emotional, that Ken had inflicted on them. They don't seem able to let well enough alone. They may not be able to raise the dead, but they are bound and determined to resurrect Ken's satanic practices.

DeeDee, his one time witch-mate and partner in brutality, has been longing to feel Ken's "influence" on her body. She dreams at night and daydreams of his ability to arouse her sex lust until she cannot tolerate another hour without feeling it.

She begins to contact his former 'witches' and fill their minds and imaginations with what they could be experiencing if they were willing to recreate Ken's past covens. They could use Ken's 'methods' on each other and relive the exciting sexual and painful moments they spent with their witch master. 

After a few weeks, DeeDee has recruited twelve other masochistic women who also long for Ken's 'touch'. They meet at DeeDee's apartment and lash out, uh, hash out some details of what they think will create the closest manifestation of Ken's treatment of them. 

Just discussing the various aspects of those ordeals have most of these women in an advanced state of heat. Several wish they had a worn a panty liner to this powwow. Two of them have to go to the bathroom to wipe away vaginal secretions running down their legs. If just talking about their intended actions can trigger such responses, what will the actual 'exploits' produce? 

They finally end the get-together, go home and masturbate. They salivate thinking of what the new Witches' Covens will offer them. They sleep with visions of sugarplums dancing, uh, Ken's abuse dancing in their heads. At least one of them can't sleep at all and spends the rest of the night using a vibrating dildo. These women are ripe for DeeDee's planned abuse of them. She plans to emulate Ken's brutality until she is sated with no thought of how she may damage her witch sisters. She forgets that since years have passed, these women are no longer the young girls who could tolerate extreme torment and bounce back with little or no permanent effect. Of course, she couldn't care less about them but only of her own gratification.

The first item on their agenda is locating a suitable 'parlor' for their nefarious schemes. They are unaware that they are the 'flies' who will end up in the 'spider's' web. They are not hearing DeeDee's subliminal message, "Come into my parlor said the spider to the fly(s)." What better parlor than the dungeon where Ken abused them into painful orgasm before he abruptly and unceremoniously passed into that nether world where demons are wont to go? His dungeon, now Celia and Karla's finished and well-decorated game room/media room/basement, should be theirs by rights to torment themselves. Rights earned by THEIR pain and HIS pleasure that they afforded their satanic majesty, Ken Mackey. Why possibly, he might even come back to haunt them in that very cellar. They shiver and are aroused by the very thought.

DeeDee and a contingent of her witches approach Celia with a request that they be allowed to use the basement cum media room. (Ladies, that word cum is an adverb or preposition: "with", "including", "simultaneous" in Latin, not the gooey secretions that have erupted from your orgasming genitals.) Celia is shocked and dismayed by the audacity of these former devotees of her husband's evil arts. She says, "NOOOO." most emphatically. 

Celia has had enough of these ladies (?) and thought she was well rid of them, only to find that they are gently persuasive using extortion and blackmail. DeeDee subtly hints that she cannot be held responsible for any filthy, obscene stories of Ken's past that may find their way into the Mackey Afternoon Gazette. Now, Celia wouldn't want a scandal to affect the school she operates and which the upright Mackey citizens currently hold in such high regard and esteem -- now would she? She reminds Celia that since Joanna no longer lives with her that she needn't be concerned about her daughter knowing what takes place in the basement. What else can Celia do but relent? A new era of Ken's Wicked Witch Covens comes to life. 

Is it possible that Ken's interred corpse has a faint fiendish smirk in-grave-d on its mouldering face? No, it's not. Having witnessed a long procession of women visiting the site, Celia had Ken's body exhumed and cremated a few weeks after his burial. She could not tolerate the thought of black-garbed town's women making a shrine of his grave. No tombstone was ever placed over that empty space.

The Wicked Wiccan Wednesdays begin anew the following week. Celia does not allow the women to come traipsing through her newly renovated and Ken-free home. She and Karla greet them at the exterior door of the basement. At first, the witches are dismayed by the changes in the basement. They feel they have lost the aura of the previously dismal, dank, dark, dingy, drab, dreary yet refreshingly intimidating dungeon-like feel of Ken's basement; however, they make the most of a bad situation and accept it with a light-hearted shrug of their soon to be naked shoulders. They can't wait until they can get out of their dry clothes and into a wet orgasm.

Celia does not offer them refreshments as she does not want them to feel welcome, but several arrive with, ahem, spirits to give the party a more festive air. They sit and sip and wait until all thirteen members of the coven assemble, so that the games can begin.

As per their new pact with the devilish DeeDee, they strip naked (and surreptitiously check out the new, but not necessarily improved, no longer girlish figures of their former cunnilistic fuck mates.) Perhaps this may not be as delicious as they had anticipated. Well, they have come to cum, and so they will soldier on, cum what may. (Ladies, this word "cum" is NOT a Latin word.)

Each of these now nude ladies (the term 'ladies' is used very loosely here) kneels before Celia and Karla and, with palms holding up their breasts as an offering to Ken's widow and former mistress, wait for some signal. DeeDee explains that the witches are required by their pact with the devil to pay homage to the last known repositories of Ken's sacred satanic semen -- Celia's and Karla's vaginas. 

The two women decline the kind offer, but are gently and sweetly reminded by DeeDee that 'they damned well better be prepared to play out their roles in this play or be damned'. 

The two women mentally throw up their arms in capitulation; they slide to the edge of their chairs, pull up their dresses, and tug their panties from their beautiful bottoms and down their legs. Taking the fancy underwear from around their ankles, they fold the delicate dainties, and place them in a dress pocket. They move their legs apart and wait for the on-slot, uh, onslaught of the not-so-currently-cute, cunning cunnilingists. 

When nothing occurs, they look to DeeDee for direction. DeeDee reminds them that these women are masochists and expect a warm welcome to continue. She reaches down and gives the woman kneeling before Karla a very, very gentle love tap to her proffered mammary. The slap knocks the woman backward two feet; however, she recovers rapidly, massages the offended tit, and moves forward to quickly push her tongue into Karla's love tunnel. DeeDee extends her hand palm up and shrugs as if to say, "Voila! That's what it takes to get the ball rolling." 

Very soon, a slurping sound can be heard; DeeDee pushes and holds the woman's head tightly against Karla's pussy. She indicates to Karla that she must take over this duty and Karla pulls the woman's head even harder into her pelvis. Soon, her own head tilts backward, her lips open in a grimace, and her vaginal juices erupt into the woman's mouth. Had Karla not been holding the woman's head so tightly against her groin, the firehose pressure of her discharge may have forced the woman over on her back (or possibly have decapitated her). The brunette witch-bitch keeps sucking until Karla's canal is empty; the woman then licks Karla's pubes clean and dry, thanks Karla for her largesse, and rises to permit the next woman to take her place. Karla needs time to recuperate, but allows the woman to place her face against her loins until she can get her own breathing under control.

Deedee tells Celia to signal that she is ready for her baptism from the next kneeling woman. Celia mildly slaps the woman's breasts, but she is unrewarded by any action on the woman's part. In disgust, Celia hits the woman's breasts forehand and backhand in increasingly harder strokes until the woman seems to get the message and leans forward to devour Celia's cunt. They are off, or at least and at last, Celia is; after a few minutes of intense tonguing, Celia gives the woman an earful, uh, mouthful, and the woman emulates her fellow witch-bitch by sucking Celia clean and licking her dry. This blond bitch also tells Celia of her appreciation of Celia's generosity and rises to give way to the next female. 

This frantic fucking fun is repeated until each of twelve women has paid her respects to Ken's former love boxes; however, DeeDee has not taken part in this delicious repast. Possibly, she has eaten before cumming to this party and is planning to be, uh, to wait for desert.

It is now time for the assembly to get down to more serious manifestations of their affections for its idol. DeeDee has asked Celia to place Ken's cremation urn atop the fireplace mantel above a roaring fire. This is to remind the witch-bitches that Ken may well be residing and presiding over his final reward: the fires of hell. 

Each woman in turn walks to the beautiful walnut urn and kisses it; their naked bodies are exposed to the fierce fireplace heat, and they deliberately allow the hair of their unshaved pussies to be singed by the flames. One lush bush actually catches fire and has to be unceremoniously doused to put out the flame. This tall, heavy breasted woman becomes an instant hero to the rest of the witch-bitches.

The women clasp their hands behind their backs and form a circle around DeeDee who places a black metal spring binder clip on each of their nipples. The women grimace as the clips cause considerable pain, but no one complains or tries to relieve the pressure. DeeDee takes her time as she threads a cord through each of the clip handles until she completes the circuit and ties the cord's ends together. She ducks under the cord and signals. 

The women step back until the clips begin to pull free from their breasts; coming off this way, the clips cause more pain than when they were put on. When the last two clips are still attached, the two women engage in a tug-of-war until one more clip pulls free. DeeDee removes the last clip from the woman's nipple and declares her the sacrificial lamb that evening. This first night of the new covens, the woman pleads that she would like to concede the honor and allow her tug-of-war opponent that privilege, but DeeDee says no, that the opportunity was fairly come by and there cannot be a substitute. The woman, knowing what awaits her, shivers in delicious fear; however, she accepts her fate and makes no further argument.

DeeDee fastens cuffs to the woman's wrist and ankles. She fastens heavy cords to the ankle cuffs and while several witches lift the woman parallel to the floor, DeeDee and another witch haul her up by her ankles to the ceiling. DeeDee moves the woman's legs far apart and locks the ceiling tracks so that her legs can't close. DeeDee ties her wrist cuffs to a pair of eyebolts drilled into two bowling balls directly under her. 

The 'lamb' now has the right to ask any of her sister witches to eat her pussy in order that her orgasms create a sort of anesthesia. She picks out one of the women who unhesitatingly dips her tongue into the lamb's pussy and within minutes brings her to orgasm. The lamb offers another woman an opportunity to eat at the "Y", her upturned spread out legs. The woman works her magic and the lamb purrs (lamb purrs??). The lamb chooses two more women to feast on her vagina and when all are sated, she is ready for the honors that will now be afforded her.

At this point in the past, soiled panties would have been stuffed into the woman's mouth and taped, so that she couldn't spit them out; however, the women had complained about giving up too many expensive panties and a newer, more diabolical gag has been agreed on. The women have been wearing tampons, but not necessarily because they were having their periods. They have not been told by DeeDee how long they must wear them, but some more sadistic of them have had them in their vaginas for many days.

Four of the women, including DeeDee, remove their tampons and stuff them into the mouth of the sacrificial lamb. Although they don't tape her mouth, she would have a difficult time spitting them out. Her facial expressions reflect that she finds her gag disgusting; the taste must be vile, as the tampons have been soaking up vaginal secretions in them for days, possibly weeks. The vaginal secretions are no longer fresh and tasty. They may possibly have begun to 'ferment' in the tampons into an unpalatable wine. 

DeeDee places a small cardboard box on the table and each of the women picks out an odd implement. It consists of a one-inch thick wooden dowel rod about eight inches long. One end of a six-inch length of surgical tubing has been inserted into one end of the stick and stapled to hold it tight. An inch of the free end of the tubing has been folded over and tied tightly with nylon string. The gadget looks like a one-sided slingshot. 

When Karla asks DeeDee what the gadget is for, she replies that Ken used a long plaited whip on the clitorises of his witch-bitches, but he had to practice for many hours to hit his mark. The women could not duplicate his ability having no way to practice with the long whip. The one-sided slingshots require little or no practice to hit the target. 

DeeDee and the eleven other women lined up and one after the other placed the dowel close to the lamb's genitals, pulled the folded end back and snapped her clitoris. She shrieked through her gag, twisted and squirmed, and after the ninth snap, fainted. The remaining three women snapped her clitoris even though she was unconscious. It was obvious that her labia were swelling and she would awaken to a lot of pain. Ken would have thoroughly enjoyed this substitution of his 'art'.

Not finished, DeeDee placed a tapered candle in the lamb's vagina leaving more than half of the candle protruding from her. She lit the candle and the women moved to another part of the basement, leaving the candle burning. 

Celia was shocked and horrified at the woman's torment and would have gone to her rescue several times, but Karla stopped her. She whispered something in Celia's ear; Celia nodded and sat down. 

The women joined hands and formed a circle facing one another. DeeDee picked up a new sjambok, a whip made from a rhinoceros' penis, that she purchased through a mail order catalogue from South Africa; after administering a dozen strokes to each woman's buttocks and thighs, she had them turn around and proceeded to inflict another dozen strokes to their bellies, pubes, and inner thighs. When one woman fell to the floor, DeeDee beat her until she stood up and received the last of her dozen strokes. If a woman cringed, flinched, or cried out during her ordeal, DeeDee exacerbated her torment. She had the woman pull a tampon from another witch's vagina and put it in her own mouth. If she made a face or gagged, she was made to suck on another tampon. Within the first few minutes of sjambok usage, each of the remaining tampons was in someone's mouth. 

Celia and Karla were sickened by and tried to tune out the sounds of the whip striking bare flesh and the sobs of the women, but they didn't interfere.

DeeDee wasn't finished yet. She used a flicker whip on each of the women's breasts until they were red and striped. Still not satisfied, DeeDee handed each of the women a packet of four acupuncture needles and had them insert them in an X pattern through their nipples. If a woman hesitated, cried out, or exhibited any emotion, DeeDee used the flicker whip on her needled breasts. Tears flowed down the cheeks of three of the women as they inserted two needles through each nipple. DeeDee flicked their needled breasts until they held perfectly still. When one of the women fainted, DeeDee permitted the others to help her up. She didn't punish the woman for her lapse of 'etiquette', but wagged her finger in the woman's face. DeeDee had salivated throughout this torment of whom she now considered HER witches, but she told the twelve women that Ken would have been proud of them for taking his 'treatment' so well. 

Finally exhausted from her efforts, she put the whip down and plopped into a white leather chair. She rubbed her arm muscles and flexed her arm. It had been a tiring workout. Poor baby.

Karla reminded DeeDee that the candle in the lamb's vagina was burning down very close to the woman's flesh. DeeDee grinned and told her that when the woman woke from her faint, that she could pee on the candle and put it out. She went to the woman and shook her until the lamb awoke. The hot candle wax had filled the area around her vaginal opening, labia, belly, and butt crack. She was in great pain from the clitoral abuse and the hot wax. She moaned and sobbed, and was unable to understand DeeDee's instructions to pee to put the candle out. When her pubic hair began to singe from the short exposed piece of candle, Karla barked at DeeDee to put the flame out; reluctantly, DeeDee blew it out. 

DeeDee knelt and licked each of the women's slits in turn, extracting a dollop of her vaginal secretions, but did not bring any of the women to orgasm. She considered herself above such open demonstration; however, she did pick out one of the women with whom to take home and have a 'coming' out party. She didn't expect anyone to go home hungry.

As the women prepared to depart, DeeDee jerked the needles from their nipples and gave them permission to get dressed. The witches, in pain, but apparently in an aroused sexual state paired up and prepared to leave. They lowered the 'sacrificial lamb' and carried her to one of their cars. They would have to minister to her bruised clitoris and wax burns at one of their homes until she was able to navigate on her own. 

Before DeeDee and her intended sex partner could leave, Karla made a suggestion to her.

At the next Wicked Witch Coven, Karla would sponsor a contest among the witch-bitches but asked that the next meeting be postponed for two weeks. She would need that time to have the prizes prepared. She and Celia would have some of Ken's ashes placed into six sets of Ben Wa balls that six winning women could wear in their vaginas whenever they wanted. They could fantasize that Ken was in their pussies fucking them. The grand prize would be a large vibrating butt plug containing the remainder of Ken's ashes. The big winner could wear it in her ass and fantasize that Ken was 'doing her doggy style'. DeeDee became excited and said she would spend the next two weeks planning the contest.




Joanna's Story Ch. 07



After all the masochistic witch-bitches had gone, Celia and Karla went to their home office. They spent an hour there and then went to bed. 

Two weeks later, the thirteen women were back, 'aching' to resurrect Ken's abuse of them and translate it into sexual stimulation. Again they paid homage to Ken's last semen depositories -- Celia's and Karla's vaginas -- and licked the women to orgasm. 

The witches paid for that privilege with sore breasts. Fed up with these frigging witches and their frigging covens, Celia and Karla took out their irritation by "bitch slapping" their tits. This could be the last time that they would have to put up with this nonsense.

DeeDee announced that there would be a contest this evening to decide which witch would wear which witch master Ken's ashes in their cunts or ass. She didn't bother to determine who would be the sacrificial lamb that night. However, she had them exchange the tampons they had been wearing since their last coven. She had each of them, in turn, lie on her back while a sister witch straddled her mouth. They would first have to get the straddler wet so the tampon would slide out a little more easily. How she accomplished that would be up to her, but it usually meant an orgasm or two. She would pull the tampon string until cotton began to emerge from the woman's pussy, grasp it with her teeth, and work it out of the other woman's vaginal canal and into her own mouth. If the taste made her gag or if she showed any recalcitrance, DeeDee would snap the woman's pussy with the one-sided slingshot. DeeDee was kept busy administering that snap to every woman in the group. One woman even had the audacity to throw up when a particularly nasty flavored tampon entered her mouth. She was severely punished for that lapse in 'good taste'.

The tampon to mouth switch took up so much time that DeeDee grew impatient to start the contest she had dreamt up. She was anxious to "win" one of the prizes. 

She had the women form their inner facing circle and beat their bottoms with the sjambok, but her heart wasn't in it; she wanted to win that butt plug; she didn't bother to beat their genitals but did use the flicker whip on their tits. She definitely wanted their nipples to be as sore as possible before the games commenced. Again she handed them packets of acupuncture needles and told them to skewer their nipples in an X pattern. When Celia objected, DeeDee glared at her and told her that was what her dead husband would have expected them to do. Furthermore, she said, it wasn't as painful as having their nipples pierced for a nipple ring or bar. 

Karla gently pulled Celia back to her seat and put her arm around her. She cooed a few words in Celia's ear and Ken's widow quieted down. 

The women did as they were told and inserted the needles through their already tender nipples. DeeDee went from woman to woman and, using her thumb and middle finger, flicked each nipple; then, she pulled the needles free of their nipples; blood flowed, but DeeDee admonished them not to touch their breasts to ease the pain or stop the blood. Now, she thought, they were ready for the next stage. 

Throughout the intense misery she had inflicted on 'her' witches, she never once permitted herself to 'enjoy' any of their pain. She was the Witch Mistress now; she had usurped Ken's position and needn't feel his harsh 'touch'. She just allowed her sadistic nature to hold sway for her own self-gratification. She had lost count of the orgasms she experienced as she sadistically played hostess to 'her' masochistic witches.

She announced that the contest would now begin. The women sat on the floor cross-legged, in two lines of six facing one another. Each would grasp the extremely sore nipples of the woman across from her and pinch, twist, pull, etc. until one cried enough. Within a very few minutes, six of the women had yielded and the other six were declared winners of the Ben Wa balls; however, they were forced to repeat this stunt until only one woman remained. 

DeeDee again made an announcement; this time she and the woman who had not conceded would have a 'run off' and the winner would win the butt plug. She figured that the other woman's nipples would be so sore by now that the she would yield immediately.

At this point, Karla pointed out the fallacy in DeeDee's plan. She declared that since she had sponsored the contest that she should have the say so as to the final contest. When she outlined what she thought that contest should be, all the women except DeeDee agreed, but she would have to yield to Karla's wishes if she wanted that haunted butt plug.

DeeDee and the other woman were strung up by their ankles and a two inch wide candle was inserted into their vaginas. The candles provided by Karla extended two inches out of the women's love canal. As the candles burned, they formed a bowl of hot wax under the wick. When the hot wax began to drip over the sides, it fell onto the women's pubes. The first one to yield lost the right to the "Ken" filled butt plug. DeeDee was determined to win the prize and bore up under the hot wax burning her pussy. 

The other woman had already won a set of Ben Wa balls and mused about wearing them while shopping. She would fantasize that the balls were Ken's and that he was deep inside her vagina. She might even have an orgasm as she pushed her cart around the supermarket aisles. She didn't really relish the thought of wearing that large butt plug in her rectum. She thought that fat assed bitch, DeeDee, deserved to have it up her asshole. She capitulated when the first drop of hot wax reached her labia. Karla blew out the flame, removed the candle, lowered the woman, and removed the cuffs from her wrists and ankles. During this procedure, hot wax continued pouring onto DeeDee's genitals.

In pain from the hot wax, DeeDee declared herself the winner and demanded that she be lowered to receive her prize. Karla ignored her, turned to the other women and hinted that they might seek revenge for DeeDee's harsh treatment of them. There were twelve volunteers.

They began by using the one sided slingshot on DeeDee's pussy. When DeeDee struggled, more hot wax would pour onto her genitals. DeeDee would shriek at each snap and at each drop of wax until it seemed to be one long continuous scream.

When DeeDee's pubic hair caught on fire, Karla poured water on it and extinguished the flame; however, there was a faint but distinct scent of burnt skin. Celia and Karla went upstairs to the kitchen and had a glass of wine. Through the open basement door, they could hear DeeDee shrieking. It was music to their ears.

The women were still using the one sided slingshots on DeeDee's pussy and the sjambok on her ass, genitals, and thighs when Karla went back to the basement; she saw that DeeDee was striped, black and blue, front and back from her knees to her dangling breasts. Her nipples and breasts were skewered with what seemed to be dozens of acupuncture needles. Her sobs and moans brought smiles to the faces of 'her' witches.

Karla asked the witches to lower DeeDee but not before bestowing the grand prize. She handed the butt plug to the woman DeeDee had been competing with and told her to place it where DeeDee would be wearing it. 

The woman took the butt plug and shoved it into DeeDee's ass without the benefit of lubrication. The other women clapped. They lowered DeeDee and helped her to a chair. She still had the butt plug in her rear. It would have to be pried out of her.

Karla, then, turned on the closed circuit television set, and the women witnessed the last coven and tonight's coven on tape. Karla and Celia had stayed out of the camera range and so were not in the scenes. 

Karla told DeeDee she would show the tape to the police if the Wicca were not disbanded, or if DeeDee ever told anyone about Ken's exploitation of women. If one shred of scandal reached daylight by any one the women, the tape would be shown. 

Since the tape showed DeeDee beating and abusing the other women of the Wicca, she would most certainly end up in prison. She told the women to take DeeDee home and never speak to her or Celia again. She handed each of the six winners a package containing their Ben Wa balls. She asked them to wait until they got home to insert them. She wanted them out the door as soon as possible.

The women left taking the injured DeeDee, her prize still up her ass, with them. Karla locked the basement door and went upstairs to the bedroom. She undressed and got into bed beside Celia. She kissed Celia and told her that the second iteration of Ken's Wicked Wiccan Wednesday was now a thing of the past. Celia hugged her and kissed her passionately.

When Karla finally turned the lights out, Carla asked, "What was in the wooden urn on the fireplace mantel, Karla? We flushed Ken's ashes down the toilet the day we brought them home from the crematorium. What did you have placed in the Ben Wa balls and the butt plug?" 

"Dirt, Celia, dirt from the back yard."

*****

There you have it, dear readers. Ta daa, the end of Joanna's Story. 

Are you satisfied, TT? 

TT has apologized profusely, for using coercion, nay -- (sexual) extortion to get me to write Chapter 05 and this epilogue to suit her; therefore, I won't reveal her dirty little secret to the Literotica world. 

Like hell, I won't. 

If you must know what it is, read my light lesbian story, The Library. Read what Jan does with her roommate Andrea's permission. Although I have used TT's actions quite a few times in my stories, I really didn't want to shout from the rooftops that TT had performed them while at university. She wasn't out of the closet in those days. 

So far, only my editor and a Literotica correspondent, Jim, know TT's dirty little secret. Now, you will know.

Thank you, dear readers, for persevering to the bitter end. Please e-mail me if the story pleased you, or if you found it offensive (I'll let TT read the negative feedback). If you do e-mail me, I'll tell you what effect TT's dorm escapade has had on her to this very day. 

I told you I'd get even with you, TT.

Raven