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From: "MrHeadmstr" <mrheadmstr@yahoo.com>
NNTP-Posting-Date: Mon, 08 Dec 2003 18:16:30 EST
Subject: {ASSM} The Fifth Wife, Part 2 of 2
Date: Mon,  8 Dec 2003 22:10:05 -0500
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Posted with Permission.  All Rights Reserved to Leilani.

THE FIFTH WIFE ( Part II )   by Leilani

Then Peter began to tease me, played a game with me every night. He told me
I had been a naughty girl, and he was going to have to spank my bare bottom.
He sat on  the side of the bed, pulled me over his lap, and lifted up my
nightgown. Running a calloused thumb under the elastic of my panties----he
pulled them down----the cold air suddenly chilling my exposed buttocks. Then
he informed me I was getting 10 spanks for every question I missed on my
algebra exam---5 mistakes totaling for 50 spanks! I shivered!

The first ten weren't too bad, he's teasing me I thought, but still remained
a little uncertain. Too scared, too close to that really hard spanking he
had just given me just the other night for burning our dinner, I was afraid
to move. I've never considered myself on equal grounds with Peter, deacon of
our church, established prominent business man in our community, all his
wives deferring all major decisions to his greater judgment, even his two
teenage sons stood in awe of their father. So I figured if he wanted to
spank me, I was just going to have to accept it, took a deep breathe, and
tried to resign myself to lie submissively across his knee. Then he massaged
my bottom, rubbing away any soreness and tenderness---before starting again.
His voice was lite and gay, his eyes were dancing, still I was a little
afraid of him.

Then something happened! Not sure exactly what. But he hit me just right
---across the fattest part of my buttocks, no pain......and a shiver went
down my spine. I don't think he was smacking me hard, or maybe at that point
I couldn't tell, but the jingling motion was causing electric currents to
run down my thighs....I moaned....lifted up my bottom to steer the blows to
my most sensitive spots above the thigh-line and inner crease. I found his
left hand in my mouth, sucked on his fingers, and gently chewed on his
thumb.

The blows were now deep---he used just the fleshly part of his palm, falling
rhythmically like the motion of sex.....perfect metronome.... and never
tiring. The burning pain went deep into my muscles, feeling sooooo good. I
felt ripe......my juices overflowing!!! It was a new feeling! How can I
describe it? I ached to have Peter within me. I was in a different
head-space now, my soul soaring miles above my effete adolescent body. That
night I became Peter's love slave----and he could do what he wished with my
body. Every touch sending waves of passion through me.

My relationship changed with Peter that night. It was an addictive high I
had experienced, and now I couldn't look at him without wanting to melt into
those strong arms. Something between us had clicked, unlike a school crush
when I wanted to smother a boy with maternal feelings. This was sooo
different! Can't really say he was a father figure, never made love to my
father.

Peter was very controlling. Made sure I came home straight from school---no
dilly dallying with friends. I wasn't allowed to attend school social
functions, movies, no talking on the phone with girlfriends. I had no
friends! Once I was 20 minutes late coming home, he cornered me as I entered
the doorway. "Where have you been? Jessica and the boys have been worried
sick over you?" Then he had me grab my ankles while he laid 50 swats with
the razor strap across my bare hiney---while Jessica and the boys looked on.
I was afraid of Peter, but I never thought of him as cruel. He was always
firm, but fair. If I didn't drop my pants immediately and jump into position
as he commanded-----he took it as an act of defiance, and had Alan fetch the
wooden paddle. When Peter spanks, he means business.

I was never defiant. All these sessions, the nightly hand spankings ended up
in tears. Tears and screams never deterred Peter, he loved to watch me
squirm! Frequently had Mike count the strokes, as my voice became incoherent
and hoarse with crying. I would have been more stubborn and defiant if he
were angry. His deliberate calmness unnerved me, his patient lecturing made
me feel as if I were in the wrong. It's hard to fight someone that you love,
the guilt is over-whelming. So I became resigned, just to submit and get
everything over with.

CRACK!!!!!A searing pain focused all my attention with a jolt!! Unaware of
an audience, immune now to humiliation and embarrassment. A hot burning
feeling tingled across both cheeks, and my face felt hot. "I'm sorry. I
won't let it happen again." Instinctively I knew I was going to have to
appease Peter, and not expect any help from Mike and Alan who were now
grinning ear to ear.

Then the pain builds up, blotting out all other senses. The boys get
excited, wanting to see how much I can take, and fear sends me over the
edge. Then I feel trapped and truly at their mercy. I can now feel tears
running down my cheeks. Peter seems to instinctively know just when I can't
take another stroke, then he slows down, sometimes rubs-----and then slowly
builds back up again. Leaving my head in a perpetual endorphin high. He took
me a little further and further each time. I was truly his puppet.

At the end I am always crying, and hyperventilating, too hysterical to talk.
Peter holds me until I stop. And that's what life was like in Peter's house,
laughing all of your laughter, and crying all of our tears. My body felt
refreshed to have spent all of its emotions. To leave Peter's house, and
enter the real world, we entered a temperate air-conditioned zone where
emotions are rigidly put on hold. Where you may laugh politely, but not bust
a gut with all lifes merrity; and you may shed a tear, but not open up your
heart and drown your tears into an endless abysmal lake of sorrow. I don't
know why that is----but how foolish I was in the past to deprive myself of
the exhilaration of experiencing life to the fullest.

Jessica would rub some night cream into my burning buttocks. "When I first
got married", she began dreamily, "Peter would sometimes spank me with the
hairbrush for discipline. I hated that. But later, I grew to enjoy it-----we
always had wonderful sex afterwards." I didn't understand what she was
saying at first, but the rubbing felt good.

I know what you are thinking. This isn't right. Why didn't you go to your
parents, school councilors, minister of your church? Peter was well-known, a
powerful member of the church. Always leading teenage boy activities,
because of his sons. Other parents came to him for advice. Mike and Alan
were model teenagers.

There was more to it than that. Peter loved me. He was a perfectionist, with
definite ideas on how his family was to be run, and no room for compromise.
And he spent an inordinate amount of time and energy molding me into his
perfect wife. Sometimes after a terriblly painful spanking---he would lick
the burning away with his tongue. He always held me until I stopped crying.
And like Jessica said---we had wonderful sex afterwards. So Marci Monroe as
an individual ceased to exist, and my personality melted like everyone else
in the family to conform under the iron grip of Peter Monroe's will. We as a
family would have followed him to the depths of hell. And what did that
social worker refer to our loyalty as: "sexual slavery". No, it was more
than that. It would have taken more than an Emancipation Proclamation to
free us from the invisible emotional chains Peter clamped to our souls.

Then something happened to my body. I'm not sure if it was just a hormonal
change of growing up. But I began to long for Peter, the nights he spent
with his other wives, wanting his body lying next to mine, so I could feel
his warmth. When he was with me, I wanted to please him so badly I ached. If
he had told me to put my hand in the fire, I wouldn't hesitate. Somehow,
putting up with his impossible demands, and bearing the unbearable pain he
inflicted on me became a means of testing my love. When Peter snapped the
dreaded razor strap across his palm, "Now, who needs a spanking?" It was if
he was asking, who loved him the most! And I could go on longer, and take
more-----than any of his other wives!! My endurance of these public
whippings became legendary among his children who always watched, and for me
were a mark of my fidelity and total devotion.

So when they asked me in court, "How long has Peter Monroe kept you as his
'sexual slave'?" I wanted to answer. "I'm not sure. Six months.......but it
feels like eternity.......and I wish it would go on forever!!!" I belong to
Peter completely. I'm his property with four other wives. By myself, Marci,
I'm nothing. Look at me!!....Skinny,.... 15 year old, freckles, no boobs,
knock-kneed, C in algebra......But when I'm part of Peter's family.....I'm
Marci Monroe.....Do you know what it feels like to have people worship your
body? Peter loves the control he has over me! He knows he can transform me,
a fifteen year old knock-kneed adolescent into a hot sensual being with his
touch. Yes, he spanks me daily. And the mere flick of his lash, will send my
body gyrating, and I will lie belly down on the floor steaming with passion
and grovel.......and all four of his wives will cum in their panties
watching us. I love it!!!!

I don't have any explanation for it. But there are some things in life, like
crying, hiccuping, laughing, that can't be explained-----you just have to
experience them. And the only form of communication is between people who
can say, "Ohhhh, you've experienced it too!!"....and an understanding is
passed. And though I'm only 15, and the court feels I'm too young to
understand all this to make a rational decision, when you use words
like "sexual slave", whom among us in this court, with all your professional
degrees and education, understands the full meaning of those words but me?


-- 

MrHeadmstr, Partner
Crimson Moon Ltd.
www.crimson-moon-ltd.com

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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