Torments of the Widow McWorter Ch. 01-06

It was about 9:30 when I knocked on the door of my parent's bedroom. Father swung open the door. He was dressed only in the bottoms of his pajamas. I had never thought of father as being particularly masculine before, but for some reason tonight there was something very sexy about his broad, muscular, hairy chest. In his hand was the broad white canvas belt that he had brought home from his days in the Navy.

Across the room standing beside the bed was my mother, as naked as the day she was born, with her arms extended straight up over her head. Her full breasts were lifted and accentuated. She was quite beautiful, but vulnerable, and she looked afraid and unhappy.

"Come in young lady, and take off your gown," my father invited. "Then stand over there beside your mother with your hands over your head just as she is doing. Do you know what is going to happen here?" he asked me.

"No father," I answered. For sure, I had no idea what to make of this strange scene. I knew only that I was terribly embarrassed to be naked in front of a man even if he was my father. I did as I was told, however, and stood by mother nude with my arms raised.

"Mary Beth," father began. "I am going to whip your mother, and then you, with this belt. This is your first lesson in resisting the lusts of your female body. Only by constant vigilance and the regular use of this belt can I be sure that you and your mother will remain chaste, and faithful despite your inherent female weakness for the pleasures of the flesh."

Speaking then to my mother, he asked for conformation. "I have whipped you regularly throughout our marriage haven't I woman?"

"Yes my dear, you have," my mother replied, rather sadly I thought.

"And as a result you have been able to overcome you hunger for the penises of strange men, and devoted yourself only to mine, have you not woman?"

"Yes Arthur! With your help, I have."

"Do you need to be reminded again tonight to control your feminine lust?

"Oh yes my husband, my guide! I am a slut, and you must keep me on the right path. I have such dirty thoughts about large erections, and what they would do to me if only they were in my mouth, or in my pussy, or in my ass. I must be punished for my lust. You must teach me with your belt how to control myself. Please, whip your wife whose thoughts have so sinned against you!"

Father did not hesitate. With the regular beat of a metronome he began to beat his wife, first on her shoulders, then on her buttocks, and finally across the back of her thighs. She must have been in great pain, but she bit her lips and only whimpered as the blows struck home. Only once was there a pause, and that was for barely the moment it took to spin his victim around that he might whip her down the front of her body. Cruel blows fell upon her thighs and belly, below and above the dark patch of her pubic hair. Eventually her breasts became his target where he repeatedly struck her across her nipples. The abused and beaten woman was sobbing quietly when it was finally over.

This was when father opened his fly to expose a long cock in full erection, and asked my mother, "Whore, is this what you wanted?"

"Oh yes my dear sweet husband! You are so good to your whore wife. Please let me suck you. I have been whipped and I no longer lust for strange males and their cocks. I want only yours. Please, I want to taste you and swallow your sperm."

Her begging was real, almost panic stricken in its sincerity. Despite her pain, or perhaps because of it, she was clearly in heat, desperate for the erection that jutted from the fly of her tormentor's pajamas. In her frenzy she fell to her knees and took that blood filled hard-on into her mouth, swallowing its entire length down her throat in a single bob of her head.

Her full lovely breasts jerked and swayed as she sucked on him like a woman possessed, only to be denied her reward at the end. At the critical moment, he pulled away and began to hand jack himself off into her face. She opened her mouth, desperately trying to catch the spurts of male semen that came flying at her in long strings. Most escaped her tongue, however, and splattered onto her face from forehead to chin.

"It is now your turn, Mary Beth," father said turning to me. I was standing silent and dumbfounded at what I had just witnessed. "You are still very young. Dirty thoughts of sex with men will not yet have taken hold, and you are still pure in your body and mind. I will take that into consideration tonight, but as you grow older I must see that you stay that way. Keep your hands up high. Be brave, and try not to cry out. Ignore the pain and concentrate on refusing the temptations of your body."

With those instructions, my first beating began. True to his word, on that first night it was not severe. Unlike the way he had whipped my mother, he struck me only across the shoulders, and the ordeal was quickly over. Nor did he offer me his cock after he had finished as he did to mother. Instead he sent me directly to my room and to bed.

This experience of being whipped was to be repeated as long as I lived at home with my parents. Three and four times a week father would call mother and I into his bedroom where we were required to strip naked and offer ourselves to his punishment, always with that white canvas belt.

Mother's whippings, and the sex that followed, varied some from time to time in the details. Occasionally, father would make her kneel before him with her head and shoulders pressed against the floor. With her buttocks up and exposed, he would concentrate a vicious flogging on her pale cheeks until they were a flaming red. When he was finished with the belt, he would straddle her from behind and take her like an animal bitch, sometimes in her pussy, but as often as not in her ass.

More commonly, however, mother was whipped while either on her feet or on her knees. On those nights he would give her his erection to suck. Sometimes he would finish in her mouth and she would swallow his ejaculation. Other times he would enjoy her mouth and tongue for a while, then take his hard-on away from her, and fuck her either on the floor or on the bed.

He liked to sit between her spread legs with her hips raised by a couple of pillows, and tease her with his cock. With the crown of his penis barely inserted between her cunt lips, and a finger tip rubbing her clit, he would demand that she beg him to fuck her. Mother was so pitiful. She would whimper and plead with him to take her until tears were running down her cheeks. Whenever he finally did give her more cock, it was usually only an inch or so at a time in order to prolong mother's erotic suffering.

Father's favorite sex though, and I think probably hers as well, was for her to straddle him and mount his upright pole while he was flat on his back. In that position she was in control and could ride him as hard as she wanted, bouncing up and down enjoying an orgasm every couple of minutes or so until he finally filled her with his sperm. Of course, after every intercourse, whether in her pussy or in her ass, mother was required to dutifully clean his balls and penis with her tongue and mouth.

For years, however, father's routine with me never changed. As I became older my whippings were more severe, but always while standing, and I was struck only on my back and shoulders. I was neither asked nor allowed to participate in sex with father in any way until I was almost grown, although earlier than that, as he whipped me father would insist that I admit to lusting after my male classmates.

There was much to confess. By that time, I was quite the little prick tease. I loved the attention of a good looking boy. Just talking to one made my nipples grow hard and my pussy moist, and I had discovered how good it felt to have a hard penis pressed against me. I had become an accomplished 'French kisser', and my boy friends and I were regularly fogging up car windows in lover's lane. I loved having their hands on my body, feeling me, exploring me, teasing me. I think I probably would have fucked one or more of them if only they had pushed me a little harder.

Father purported to be aghast at my 'female lust', and the severity of my whipping increased accordingly. Despite his scolding, however, I soon began to suspect father was not nearly as upset as he pretended. Indeed I became convinced that he was pleasuring himself on the sexy details of my confession. He was not alone. Indeed, even as he whipped me, I was erotically reliving those delicious passionate moments out in the woods behind the water plant.

I decided to hold nothing back. Why be bashful about something that apparently gave us both so much pleasure. I even told him about the times my favorite boyfriend ran his finger into my pussy and jerked me off. I began to understand that there was more to what father demanded of me than a mere admission of how good it felt to have my tits and nipples played with. I could see for the first time what father called 'female lust' was nothing but religious crap, and that whipping mother and I was nothing more than a way to get his rocks off.

Father must have understood that I had seen through his little game, and was growing up into a slut. I'm sure he also knew there wasn't anything he could do about it. What has always bothered me, however, is that I don't think he even cared as long as he could satisfy his own urges with his white belt, and the naked bodies of his wife and daughter. . Once I had turned 18 and was in junior college, father finally began to make sexual overtures toward me even though he still would not fuck me or let me suck his cock. By that time he would have me hold his member in my hand. Since he would not allow me to do anything more, I'm not quite sure why he would do this. Whatever his reasons, however, I am sure he enjoyed it. I certainly did!

His great big prick would be so hard, its skin so silky smooth, and I could feel the pulse of his heartbeat under my fingers. We would stand there with not a word passing between us, my father in his pajama bottoms, while I, his naked and just whipped daughter, held his penis in my hand. We would stare into each other's eyes, each of us struggling with our own demons, until the air between us scorched from the heat of our passions. Always the same question ran through my mind, always the same hope. Was he going to fuck my virgin pussy and mouth? Tonight? Ever?

Did my obvious eagerness ever come close to overwhelming him? I think so. There were certainly those times when even his stern Old Testament resolve would melt under the warmth of my hand on his male member, and he would order me to jack him with my hand. I was sometimes allowed to continue until his eyes turned to glass and he was gasping for breath, but never to a finish.

"I am only testing you," he would tell me as he pulled his cock away. "Save yourself Mary Beth. Your lust must be only for your husband,"

That was a lie! He knew it was, and I knew so too. Worse, he knew I knew, and I hated him for continuing with his pointless half way charade. Night after night, I watched him take his pleasure from mother, and my own pussy would swell and grow wet. I desperately wanted father to lay me down beside mother, and fuck me the same way. I needed it. I dreamed about it. I ached for it. Had I not been so afraid of father and his belt, I would have begged him for it. To my bitter disappointment, however, it never happened.

In time I learned to relieve the passions that seized me as I watched my father fuck my mother. When I returned to my own room after a whipping, I would snuggle under the covers and masturbate. As my finger stroked my pussy and rubbed my clit, I remembered every detail of what had happened earlier. I could hear my mother, begging father to fuck her. I could see her too...a lovely woman on her back with splayed knees pulled back against mature breasts that lay flat and spread across her chest. Her nipples are hard and erect, her pussy is stretched into a round O, snug and tight around father's cock. From such inspiration, I would reach the most delightful orgasms.

When I was about 16, father invited my brother into the bedroom to watch his sister and mother whipped. Eddie was only 14. Father never explained why Eddie was there, but I'm sure he thought of it as part of a boy's education. Mother and I were mortified to be naked and whipped in front of this child, but that was a bearable humiliation compared to the night about two years later when father handed Eddie the canvas belt and told him to use it. To be stripped and beaten by her own son had to be particularly shameful for my Mother. How can a woman, even one as horny and submissive as she, cope with being demeaned like that?

It was a question that would remain unanswered until several years later when I was home for the Christmas vacation my senior year in college. Late to arise one morning, by the time I was out of bed father had already left for work. With him gone, I was puzzled by the moans coming from the kitchen. I had heard those sounds often before, and I knew instantly what they were.

Quietly I opened the kitchen door just a little crack I could look through. Sure enough there was my mother and her son having sex. Both were naked. Mother was stooped over the kitchen table, her arms spread-eagled across it. Her legs were split so wide that her toes could barely touch the floor. Eddie stood behind his mother, fucking her wet and swollen cunt with a huge cock that glistened in the morning sun as it slid in and out. "Yes Yes, fuck my pussy! Hard! Take me hard! Use me! Fuck me." Mother was beside herself, beyond shame, beyond caring, willing to beg her own son for his cock. "Oh-my-God, you are hitting bottom! More! More! Give me more! Please for the love of God give me more! I need it. Give it to me! Fuck me! Please! Please, I'm begging for it! Give me MORE COCK! Don't stop! Don't ever stop! Ever!"

I stood there for a long time watching him fuck her. He did it very well. Mother's pleasure overwhelmed her, and her orgasms came one after the other in a steady stream. Just as he flooded her pussy with his sperm, Eddie bent forward, and pressed his chest against her back in order to lick her tenderly between her shoulders. Mother cried out "Oh Eddie, how wonderful" even as she convulsed in one final super climax.

It was all so romantic. My own pussy flowed as freely as if I had been the one who had just been fucked. Emotionally I had been a part of their union, completely intimate with them in their pleasure. I decided it would be unforgivable for me to sneak away like some peeping Tom catching a cheap thrill. No, they had to know I had watched them make love, and that I had shared their tender moment with them. It was, however, a shock to them both when I threw the door open and spoke up.

My mother was flustered and blushing, and I could see that Eddie was so embarrassed that he was unable to speak. Mother, however, gathered herself and attempted to explain.

"Oh my dear you must forgive me," she began. "Your father is no longer enough, and Eddie has such a wonderfully big penis. He has touched places inside me where your father as never been. I know that this is a sin forbidden by God, and that I am a whore who has given in to my female lust. I don't care! He feels so good inside me that I will not even allow him to use a condom. If it be God's will, I will bear his child and do so without regret. There is nothing, and no one, who can stop me from using your brother's dick for my pleasure."

I told her I understood, and promised that their secret was safe with me. I did add a condition, however. I insisted that mother share Eddie' talented cock with me. As you will learn later in this story, by this time I was no longer a virgin. To the contrary, by then I was an experienced slut, something I was eager to demonstrate to my mother and brother as I stripped off my nightgown.

Kneeling before my brother, I took his soft dick into my mouth still covered with the slime of his intercourse with mother. Stimulated by my lips and tongue, he quickly recovered his erection. It was indeed an impressive male organ, as long and fat as any I have ever enjoyed. I gripped it in my hand and led him by it into living room where I laid down on the couch, then spread my legs wide for him. I was surprised by how much my little brother had learned from somewhere about sex and a woman's anatomy. Without any guidance from me, he dropped his head between my thighs and ate my pussy with a delicious skill. God, but his tongue was delightful!

I had already cum twice before he crawled forward, and settled his hips into my crotch. In a single shove he buried his great member inside me all the way to my womb. I have never been better fucked before or since, and for the rest of my vacation, Eddie and I had sex together at least once each day, sometimes with our mother in bed with us, sometimes alone. Over the years since then Eddie has continued to fuck me as often as opportunity allows, as he also has his mother. I think it very likely that he is the father of the baby that came along unexpectedly to mother two years later.

Father died a year ago. He never knew how badly his belt, and all his effort training of his wife, daughter and son, had failed him, ----------------------------------------------------

3. MY ROOMMATE MAEBELLE.

When I finished Junior college, father shipped me off to a small girls school run by the Pentecostal Church in the back woods of South Carolina. There were few young men nearby, and he was sure that I would be safe there from the temptations of female lust. I'm sure he never gave a thought to the possibility that in such isolation his daughter might become the prey of some lesbian. Certainly he had heard of women making love to each other, but the idea was so far fetched to him that he never seriously believed that such things actually happened. To my father, a lesbian was a myth like a leprechaun or Santa Clause.

I was assigned to share a dorm room with Maebelle Combs. Maebelle was a big strong girl with short bleached blonde hair. She was pretty enough with a good figure, but she was a little hard looking. She was not at all the type to be in a Pentecostal school. I assumed she was there only because she had the same kind of religious father as I did.

Our room was small. Maebelle and I slept in beds not more that six feet apart. All the rooms on our dorm floor shared one communal bathroom, and there were no doors on the toilet stalls. There was simply no place a girl could go to jerk off, and after two weeks, I was desperate for some private time with my finger.

One evening late I awoke from a sexy dream half crazy with the need to get myself off. Quietly I began to masturbate under my blankets, but I must have moaned as I neared my orgasm. Suddenly the room was flooded with light as MaeBelle threw back my bed covers exposing my forefinger buried inside my pussy.

"Well would you look at that," Maebelle exclaimed. "You had me fooled for certain. I thought for sure that you were one of those little praying goodie two shoes. It goes to show how wrong a gal can be. A horny little slut is what you are. Well, honey, if it is a good time you want, your roomy will certainly show you one."

With that she grabbed my left arm and yanked it into a hammerlock behind my back. My wrist she caught in a slipknot at one end of the belt from her robe. The other end she looped around my neck, and pulled my arm up taut to between my shoulder blades, before tying it off there. Maebelle was so much bigger and stronger than I, and with my arm painfully bent behind my back, I had no chance to resist her.

She made me sit on the edge of the bed, forced my legs apart, and from a squat between my thighs, she began to tease and torment me. She pinched both my nipples, hard. I cried out protesting my pain. She told me to shut up, and with one hand took a painful grip between my legs. This time I knew better than to complain. She ran her forefinger up inside me, exploring my pussy, and quickly found the hymen hidden there.