Message-ID: <41493asstr$1048734605@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit From: supermof@fastmail.fm X-Epoch: 1048710035 X-Sasl-enc: T6IX6uFHyLQNJl3/3QsaUA X-Original-Message-ID: <20030326202035.08F9E2DBFB@www.fastmail.fm> X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Wed, 26 Mar 2003 12:20:34 -0800 Subject: {ASSM} The Downward Spirol Ch. 1 and 2 (by MOF) Date: Wed, 26 Mar 2003 22:10:05 -0500 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org> Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: <URL:http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/Year2003/41493> X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Moderator-ID: dennyw, gill-bates 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 -- supermof@fastmail.fm -- http://www.fastmail.fm - Choose from over 50 domains or use your own <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> ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ Notice: This post has been modified from its original format. The post was sent as an email attachment and has been converted by ASSTR ASSM moderation software. ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com> | | FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderator: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d, look for subject {ASSD}| |Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org> Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org> | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+