Joanna's Story Ch. 01

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.