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Subject: {ASSM} The Downward Spirol Ch. 1 and 2 (by MOF)
Date: Wed, 26 Mar 2003 22:10:05 -0500
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This is the second story I've written for ASSM. I'm not sure that I'm
entirely happy with it but I don't have the energy to continue working
with it. Chapters 1 and 2 are included here. Future chapters are
forthcoming - I think.
The first story I wrote for ASSM is "I'yam What I'yam." If you like
this one, check it out. I may continue that, also. Or not. I enjoy
writing these things but they take time.
I'm interested in any comments. Please e-mail me.
Thank you, MOF
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<1st attachment, "The Downward Spirol - 1.doc" begin>
Chapter 1
by Jill Smith
I stood naked in front of the full-length three-way mirror. I
considered myself to be in pretty good shape for having had two
kids and pushing forty. My tummy was still flat and firm and my
breasts, which weren't terribly large, still looked respectable
with a sag that was hardly noticeable. My ass and legs still
looked great. They had always looked great and things hadn't
changed. I worked hard to maintain this body, I thought to
myself, and it pleased me to see that my efforts were paying
off.
I touched my right hand to my throat and began to gently trail my
fingers down over my left breast. There was a raised welt just
above my nipple and I shivered slightly as my fingers traversed
it. My fingers continued over my nipple and down my abdomen,
over additional welts and stripes, and I smiled as I remembered
watching David, his heated body glistening with excitement and
perspiration, whip the black leather belt into my naked skin.
The marks ran all the way down to my knees. There were twenty of
them. Actually there were more than twenty. David struck the
front of my naked body twenty times but in many cases both edges
of the belt bit into my skin and resulted in two marks, one for
each edge.
I was proud of the fact that I had received my beating without
any restraints. I simply stood at attention with my hands on my
head while I was given forty strokes with the belt, twenty front
and twenty back. The lack of restraints was my affirmation of
the fact that the beating was consensual, that I was part of it.
I can't say that I received my beating with complete equanimity
though. I'm sure I flinched, twisted, arched and writhed as the
belt bit into me. I know that I groaned aloud and cried. All of
these things aroused David tremendously, of course. Half way
through the beating, ten front and ten back, I was given a
reprieve. I got to lay on my back on the kitchen table with my
knees up while David thoroughly fucked me. He has a wonderful
way of drawing it out. He'd start slow and raise the rhythm
until his loins were banging hard against my thighs and then slow
the pace and begin again. He has phenomenal self-control.
He liked to make me beg for it. Make me scream, "Fuck me! Fuck
me! Harder! Please!" or something like that. Who knows what you
scream before and during an orgasm.
Finally, I bared my teeth, curled my toes, and said,
"Uhhrghhaghh!" and had a wonderful orgasm as David said something
every bit as poetic and shot his semen inside me. Shortly after
that I was standing again in my former position as he sat at the
table with a cup of coffee and read the paper. Every now and
then he'd reach over and absently caress my sticky cunt while I'd
push my hips against his exploring hand. After about thirty
minutes of that he smiled up at me and said, "I think it's time
for another round, hon." I saw as he stood up that his cock was
growing turgid again. It never ceased to amaze me how David
could have three and even (sometimes) four orgasms within a short
period of time.
I received twenty more agonizing strokes with the belt and I
gyrated the same pain dance that I did earlier. We were ready
for round two. It started with me on my knees, a position I'm
not unfamiliar with, making love to David's cock with my mouth
and tongue. Then I found myself stretched over the same kitchen
table, feet on the floor, chest on the table and my hands
gripping the far edge while trying to relax my sphincter muscles
for the forthcoming assault. David reached around me and had me
suck his fingers to slick them up with my saliva, which he then
used to lubricate my asshole. He did this several times which
left a shitty taste in my mouth. Not a great taste even if it
was my own shit. I felt the head of his cock poking gently
against my hole and then not so gently. We had done this enough
times that he didn't have too much trouble forcing his way in.
He placed one of his hands on my hip and pumped my butt to his
rhythm and reached around my hip with his other hand and began
doing wonderful things with my cunt. This went on for a while as
we grunted and groaned and said nasty things until, for a second
time, we simultaneously exploded. As someone once said, "To go
together is blessed. To come together is divine," or something
like that.
I turned slightly and looking in the left mirrors I could see my
back reflected in the right. The welts were more frequent over
my ass and thighs. No surprise there. I was expecting my two
children home from university the next day (so I thought) and it
was apparent that I was going to have to be careful with how much
of me they saw for the next week. Capri pants made that part of
my life easier since David almost always stopped at my knees.
I was admiring my multi-hued ass and my eyes travel up my abused
back when the reflection revealed more than my naked welted skin.
Next to my surprised face that was reflected in the mirror was
an equally surprised face, Megan, my nineteen year-old daughter.
She was rooted in the doorway of my bedroom staring at the front
of my body, which was facing her, and at my back which was
reflected in the mirror.
"My god, mom. What happened to you?" she said.
I grabbed my robe and wrapped it around me with my heart in my
throat.
"Megan! What are you doing here?" was all I managed to say.
"Eric and I got out early. Mom, what are all those marks? What
happened?" she asked again.
"Oh, Megan. I'm so sorry you saw them. It's nothing, really.
Please don't think about them," I said as I ushered her into the
kitchen and we sat at the table on which I had been so thoroughly
fucked, front and rear, less than twenty-four hours earlier.
"It's not nothing, Mom! They looked terrible. You looked like
you'd been beaten. Whipped!"
"Look, Megan," I replied. "Try to understand. Yes, I was
whipped and it was because I wanted to be. You're not a kid any
more and you know that there are some people out there that like
this kind of stuff and David and I happen to be two of them.
It's consensual. It's OK. Please don't worry about it.
Please?"
Megan didn't look too certain. "My god, mom. This is too wild.
Are you sure it's OK? I like David. You know I do. But if I
thought he was hurting you I think I'd kill him. Well, hurting
you against your wishes, I mean. God, didn't it hurt to be
whipped like that?" she asked.
"Of course it did, honey. It's something I don't understand
myself so I can't expect you to understand, but this is just
something that David and I do sometimes. It doesn't happen very
often but sometimes I feel like I need the pain or humiliation or
what ever it is and I know it's all part of sex and everything
but it's just the kind of thing that I must sometimes need
to...to... Oh, hell! I don't know! Just accept it, OK?"
I wrapped my arms around her and we hugged and she said in my
ear, "It's OK mom. I understand. Its OK."
...............................................................
Chapter 2
by Megan Smith
Eric's last final exam had been cancelled and as a result we
drove home a day early. Eric's my "little" brother, only one
year younger than I am. He's not a whole lot taller, either.
I'm five-six and he's about five-ten and slight of build but in
excellent shape. Sinewy as they say. He's handsome and smarter
that I but you'll never hear me say it to his face. I'm really
quite proud of him.
Our dad died when we were little and that fact has made us closer
than the average brother/sister. It was rough on us at first,
particularly mom, but we all learned to move on. Mom's been
dating a guy named David for the past couple years. They're
pretty serious but I never heard any talk about marriage.
Eric wasn't allowed to keep his car at school so he stored it at
a friend's house that has extra garage space. I dropped him off
there so he could pick his car up and I continued on home. I was
looking forward to seeing mom again. The door was open so I
walked in with my duffel and down the hall past mom's room. I
glanced in and what I saw presaged an extraordinary summer. Mom
was standing stark naked in front of her three-way mirror looking
at her body which was covered, front and back, with red, black
and blue stripes and welts. When she caught my eye I'll bet we
both looked like those cartoon characters where their eyes bug
out of their head. She threw on her robe and we both were soon
sitting at the kitchen table having a heart to heart.
I can't say that mom did a particularly good job of explaining
things to me but the bottom line was that I understood. She's
into the pain, sex, humiliation thing and if that's OK for her
then its OK for me. I think. The revelation came so quickly it
was going to take me a while to assimilate things. I'd talk it
over with Eric. It'd be interesting to see what his feelings
were.
Mom got dressed and left to shop. She gave me a kiss, told me
once more not to worry and left. I think she wanted to be alone
and wanted me to be alone, at least for a while. I thought that
that was a good idea. It'd give me a chance to think things
through. Boy, was I ever wrong! She wasn't gone ten minutes
when in walked David. David is what is known as a hunk. Tall
with rugged good looks and a crooked smile like Harrison Ford.
Sandy hair that falls over his face giving him an appealing
adolescent look in spite of his forty plus years. The kind of
personality that you instantly like. And rich. Mucho rich! The
two of us had gotten to know each other pretty well over the
years and we had a good relationship.
When he appeared we said hello, gave each other a friendly hug
and bussed each other's cheek. Then I had to get cute.
"So you and mom are whipping something up, huh, David'" I said.
He gave me a steely look, devoid of expression. I soldered on.
"You know, some of this?" I said making a whipping motion with my
hand.
A very slight crooked smile appeared on his face as he
contemplated me and I began to get a little nervous. I expected
light banter between two adults but what I was getting was a look
that was making my tummy churn and my heart beat faster.
"Megan," David said. "I want you to stand straighter, shoulders
back, stomach in." He said it with a quiet voice that assumed
that I would follow his instruction, which I did not. The
command was so inappropriate that I was too confused to.
David stepped closer to me and gently touched my cheek with his
hand. His eyes burned into mine. "Now," he said even more
quietly.
It was a manner that assumed obedience and without thinking about
it I straightened up, squared my shoulders and pulled my tummy
in. His fingertips slowly trailed down my cheek to my throat and
continued over my tee-shirt to my breast. Just his fingertips
were gently caressing the top of my left breast as he looked into
my eyes. My heart was racing and I had a scared or excited
feeling in my tummy.
"Take off your shirt," he said in his quiet authoritative
manner.
"David, I...," I started to say.
"Don't talk, Megan. Do as I say," he interrupted.
For reasons that I'll never understand I crossed my arms in front
of me, gripped the bottom of my tee-shirt with each hand and
raised my arms over my head pulling my shirt with it. I let it
drop to the floor and gave my head a shake to get my hair out of
my face. David's hand drifted to my bra strap and slid it down
over my shoulder. With his eyes still boring into mine he simply
nodded and my heart jumped to my throat. Slowly I reached behind
me and unfastened my bra and shrugged it off. It fell to my feet
exposing my breasts.
"Please remove your sandals, Megan," he said.
I raised my right foot behind me, leaned to my right and,
reaching down, slipped off my sandal that clunked to the floor to
join my shirt and bra. I repeated the maneuver with my left
sandal. I was down to my shorts and panties but this fact didn't
register. Nothing was registering. There was no past and no
future and no conscious decisions on my part. David commanded
and I responded. That one fact made up my total existence.
David's eyes never left mine as he slowly extended his hand to my
naked breast and very lightly touched my nipple that was erect
and hard. His hand slid down under my breasts and over my tummy
until it reached the top of my shorts. His fingers slipped under
the waistband and slid to the button in front, which he
unfastened.
"Now the shorts, please," he said.
I had relinquished all control. If that's what David wanted then
that's what would happen. I unzipped the shorts, slid them down
over my legs and stepped out of them. When I stood upright again
David said, "Please, Megan, your posture."
In my nakedness, I was subconsciously squeezing my shoulders and
hunching my back but, of course, David would have none of that.
As he commanded, I straightened my shoulders and sucked in my
tummy. That simple movement changed my demeanor from
embarrassment to pride. I had an attractive body and if David
wanted to see it then goddam it he was going to see it the way it
should be seen. Strange how your emotions work, sometimes.
Without David commanding it I slipped off my panties, stood
straight and tall, looked David in the eye and said, "OK, I'm
naked. Now what?"
"Now," he replied, "You must suffer. By the front entrance
there's an umbrella stand. In it there is a cane, I want you to
fetch it."
A cane? Is this some Victorian novel? I'd heard of "the cane."
So now I'm to be beaten with a cane, huh? So be it! A cane it
shall be. In my naked splendor, tummy in, chest out, shoulders
back, I strode to the front hall, retrieved the cane (thinking to
myself where the hell did this come from?) and returned,
presenting it to David.
"Bend over the table, Megan and grip the far edge," he said.
Slowly I did as David commanded thinking how calm I must appear.
I wasn't calm, though. My insides were churning. My heart was
racing and I had a feeling that I can't describe. A combination
of excitement and dread, maybe. As I stretched myself over the
table I could picture how enticing and vulnerable I must have
looked to David. It was like I was offering him my naked butt
and saying, "Go ahead. Beat me. Whatever you want. I'm all
yours." It's a strange erotic feeling. One that I would become
quite familiar with as the summer wore on.
"Don't let go of the table, Megan," I heard him say.
I'm not sure what I expected but it was nothing like the burning
pain I felt as the first stroke seared into my ass. My back
arched as I threw my head back and gripped the table with a white
knuckled grip.
"Eeyoww!" was all I could say. Very articulate.
"You didn't loose your grip, Megan. That's good. You're doing
better than your mother did the first time," I heard David say
through my pain.
That simple statement created all kinds of strange emotions
inside my brain. It made me proud that I was performing better
than mom, a person whom I always considered to be very strong.
Then I thought of mom stretched over this same table like I was
and suffering as I was. Strangely, I wasn't angry with David for
beating my mother. I began to understand those marks on her body
a little better.
The next blow to my bottom interrupted my thoughts. After that
all my attention was focused on only one thing. The burning
excruciating pain in my bottom.
After four strokes I was crying unashamedly. Without breaking my
grip on the table edge I tried to twist my hips away from the
onslaught of the cane. To no avail. After eight I was begging
piteously. What's strange is that all I had to do was stand,
say enough, dress and leave. But I didn't. I cried and suffered
and begged David to stop.
After ten he said, "Just three more, Megan. You're doing fine.
Now listen very carefully to what I'm going to say." His voice
was so quiet and self-assured. Through my pain I concentrated on
his every word. "You are not to move or look behind you. Is
that absolutely clear?"
"Yes." I sobbed. Why would I look behind me?
"We're not alone, Megan. Someone has joined us. I wanted you to
be aware of that."
Before I could respond to this startling news the next stroke cut
into my bottom.
I cried and continued to writhe my ass out of the way while
thinking how unbelievably humiliating this had become. Someone
was watching my crying and suffering. It had to be mom or Eric.
Who else could just walk into our kitchen? What were they
thinking? Why didn't they say something?
Two more. Only two more. David had paused. Probably to let me
think about the next two and to think about how my sobbing
shaking body must look to whomever was with us. As I lay
stretched over the table the burning in my ass seemed to be
increasing. It was like a fire that, as it burned down, the
coals got hotter and hotter. I didn't see how I could stand two
more strokes cutting into me. I was sobbing uncontrollably
thinking about the current pain and about the additional pain I
was to endure and about my humiliation.
But I did endure. Somehow I suffered through my final two
tortuous strokes. Before David delivered the last one he
instructed me not to move when he was finished. That I was to
remain as I was until he gave me permission to stand. And so
after the final cut seared into my ass I continued to lie
stretched over the table, crying and shaking in my pain.
Slowly, ever so slowly, I began to regain some control. Although
my bottom continued to be unbearably painful I was beginning to
learn to accept the pain. This was when Eric walked around the
table and stood in front of me. He placed his hands over mine
and knelt so that his face was just above the tabletop and
looking directly into mine. I lifted my chin off the table and
looked into his eyes. I was still sobbing and sniffling a little
but not uncontrollably like before.
He smiled gently and said, "My god, you can't believe how
beautiful you look. Poor sweet Megan, it's all over now. I
guess the bad news is that I'm afraid I'm next."
He stood up, leaned over and gently kissed my wet cheeks. First
one and then the other. Then he walked back behind me, to admire
my poor naked, belabored ass, I guess. I remained in the same
position for maybe ten minutes. I thought about all the strange
things going on and wondered where it was all going. The pain in
my bottom was sort of settling in, becoming part of me. No
longer the primary focus of my attention. David interrupted my
thoughts.
"You may stand now, Megan," he said.
I used my hands to push myself up from the table and stood on
rubbery legs, keeping one hand on the table to steady myself.
Eric rushed to my side and took my elbow to help me.
"She's OK now, Eric," said David as he stepped up to me and held
my upper arm. Eric stepped back. David stepped even closer and
with his other hand he tilted my chin up and kissed me gently on
the lips. He looked in my eyes as the hand on my elbow drifted
down to my abdomen and then my crotch. His fingers slipped
between my legs and into me and caressed me where it feels good.
I was surprised at how wet and ready I was. I pressed myself
against his hand and moaned softly. All the time I was aware
that Eric was watching this rather wanton display being performed
by his sister. Two hours earlier I would have been terribly
humiliated to have him witness such behavior on my part but
things had changed and were continuing to change faster than I
could calculate. The fact that Eric was watching me lewdly grind
my sex against David's hand was a little humiliating but much
more important was the fact that I found it to be highly erotic.
What was happening to me? Where was this all going?
<1st attachment end>
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