From Cucked Husband to Sub Wife Ch. 19

I had longed for him to mark my breast for so long because I knew how much he enjoyed marking Lori's, and though mine were puny by comparison, I wanted to sacrifice them to bring him that pleasure, especially after what she had done.

When the next hit came, it wasn't necessarily "harder," but much more accurate than the first. He continued on my breasts for the next six or so strikes. I was sure they were bright red and inflamed. He got the nipples pretty good, but most of major damage was to the meatier parts; I could feel there would be deep bruising there too.

I remembered Lori's and felt proud that I could provide some kind of replacement, though not as glorious a version. On the next hit, while I was thinking about this, though, I slipped off my tiptoes and was choking myself with the belt. I was trying to nod, and at the same time get back up on my tiptoes.

I was eager to be ready for the next lash; I didn't want to delay his pleasure even for a second to have to wait for me; I was choking and beginning to panic, but still nodded eagerly. I finally got back up just as the next strike was coming at me. Daddy seemed ready to move down my front. I nodded my head violently trying to get his attention, while choking myself desperately. I didn't feel finished; I wanted to give him more, to let him give me more pain.

"Pweeeth, pweeeth!" I finally slurred out through the gag like a drunken toddler. My tears flowed wildly from the pain; my puffy titties were so sensitive. He yanked the gag out, violently with impatience.

"What is it, sissy?!" I'm sure he thought I would beg for mercy.

I was gasping for breath, sobbing unabashedly, and the stinging pain would barely let me get my request out, "ooww, ooph, ooooh, oh fuck, it hurts so bad... Thank you, Sir! But please, Sir, please, mark my tits, I want to surrender my tits for you to mark, like you Lori's, please, Sir! I don't care how much it hurts."

He nodded silently and shoved the gag back in. "Thank you, Sir," I tried to say, but only animalistic grunts came out. He took out the cane and the cat-o-nine tails (what I most craved). I had seen what it had done to Lori's tits, and how he had reacted to them after he had done it; I wanted that. "Ooh, ooh, yeth, please," I mumbled through the gag and nodded my head eagerly as he showed me the implements.

The big whip made a greater impact, with the swish and snap, but the cat-o-nine would leave tantalizing marks, and I thought the pain would be more generalized. The cane would leave deep welts that I would feel for quite some time. I remembered caressing Lori's tits where the welts made networks of outlines and contours, and could envision running my fingers along them on my titties.

He struck first with the cane, right on my puffy nipples. The pain was outrageous, I was again glad for the gag. He did as he had done with Lori, followed a distinctive pattern with the cane, this time a kind of spiral that began on the side and swirled around each tit. Each strike was palpable torture; my body squirmed and wriggled and my restrained neck felt like it might snap as the recoil from each strike made me choke further. But each time, I found the strength to somehow ask for the next one as eagerly as I could muster.

Then he filled in with the little cat-o-nine. It struck my breast more wdiely, and after the concentrated pain of the big whip and the cane, it felt almost like relief. The pain on my sensitive breasts and nipples was kind of exhilarating. I felt it as warm embracing after the biting pain of the cane. It now evoked a memory of how Lori's breasts looked after this kind of treatment, how her already gorgeous tits looked so much sexier with his marks on them.

I wondered how my more modest and dainty endowment would look when he was done. I couldn't wait to see what they looked like with a web of welts and bruises and lashes. I could feel almost every contour of every hit on my sensitive tits. I thought of how proud I would be when I saw the evidence of what I was willing to do for my man's pleasure.

With each strike, he waited for the motion of my head as my plea for the next. Once he was satisfied with what he had done to my tits, he just beamed with his handsome smile. The pain stirring through me was unbearable; although I know I bore it, I cannot say how. But that smile made everything better. I would have done it all again, just to see the joy in that smile.

"Was that enough, Sir? Did you want to mark them more? I wouldn't mind the pain. If you want to do more." I managed to whisper softly through gag, and, in the sudden absolute silence, making myself understood. Looking at that beaming smile I wanted to offer him even more, though I wasn't sure I could take more.

"Oh, sissy, that's very good!" He was not generous with praise; that was a rave. He gently ran his fingers over the damage he had caused my poor ravaged tits. This was the moment I had been waiting for. His tender touch after the excruciating pain he had inflicted. He moved down my front until he found my little clitty then struck me there for quite some time. This was a lot less sensitive but the fresh strikes took my mind off my burning tits.

He twisted me around, so I was facing the post with my back to him; the twisted belt tightened around my neck taking away even more of my breath. He struck down my back stopping at my ass with the big whip. He made me widen my stance, which made it so I was on the verge of passing out again from the choking, while he whipped up into my ass.

He had me open my cheeks to expose my hole to him and whipped inside it with the cat-o-nine, the thongs of striking my hole, the pain was agonizing. Though about to pass out from the choking and the pain, I still nodded eagerly for more. He warned me it was going to be harsh, and I was grateful for it because I was expiating Lori's sins, which weighed on me. It must be harsh to relieve me of all I had to atone.

When, he had gotten a few licks in on my hole with small flogger, he suddenly took a new direction. He moved the noose of his belt down the post so that I was able to bend down about a third of the way, before it began to choke me. He slipped out of his pants, spat on his palms and pushed two of his fingers into my hole. I bucked my hips back to get more of his fingers into me, but each time I did this I would choke myself with the belt.

I wanted to bend over further to give him better entry into my hole, but I had to consciously choke myself to allow him better access. He pushed down hard to sway my back, and drove his cock to the hilt inside my asshole. Causing that beautiful pain there. I used my tied hands to spread my cheeks as wide as possible, opening myself to him as much as I could.

He was ramming into me and pushing my back. I gave myself up to him. I forgot the choking until I was almost passing out. I was thinking, "Oh yes, yes, fuck me hard," but was just making gurgling noises, he eased off my back just enough to keep me on the verge. Then he moved is arms under me and seized my burning tits, at first just cupping them tenderly as if soothing my aching breasts, but quickly just yanking and squeezing them ruthlessly, using them like handles to pull me down and back onto him, sending fresh waves of pain through me.

As soon as I could, I tried to nod for permission to come, but from my precarious position I could do little to call attention to my situation. My nodding was limited by the twisty choking belt and I could do little more dribble through the gag. I was just spurting out tiny bursts of sissy cum, but the rest of my body I was orgasming hard. My legs were shuddering and torso quaking, my top half just dangling from the belt around my neck now. He certainly noticed I had come without permission.

"You'll have to pay for that later, Sissy." It was so worth it; I wanted to nod my head eagerly to signal that to him, but whispered through my gag "Ooh! Thank you, Sir!" to myself.

He was fucking me so hard; I knew he couldn't hold out much longer; I couldn't wait for his cum to start filling me up. His breath got heavier and heavier and soon he was moaning and groaning while pumping my bowels full of his spunk. I started coming again as the first spasm of his cock thumped against my prostate. He pushed into me one last time and held himself deep inside me. It felt like his deeper than he had ever been.

When he was finished, he undid the belt and basically let me fall forward on my knees. I turned around instantly to suck his cock clean, fresh out of my ass. I loved on his cock for as long as I could before he took it away. He took me in his arms into the bathroom to clean me up. I felt really fragile and weak, like small bird with a broken wing. I loved that he was there to be strong for me and wrap me in his arms after all that.

He placed me in the tub and began pissing on my aching, bruised and bloody tits. It burned so bad, and it felt so cruel; I felt really humiliated but turned on. I reached out for his pissing cock with my tongue and he let me taste it. In that moment, I knew the pain was still there but could hardly feel it.

I was almost coming from the thought of just how submissive I was to him just then. After begging him to savagely beat my sensitive titties and whip the rest of my body and pounding my hole with his giant cock, I welcomed his piss, the salt burning my wounds. I couldn't be more pathetic or prouder of myself.

He washed me up delicately, as I used to do with Lori, when she had been harshly punished. He dried me and put soothing ointment on me and laid me in the bed. I laid there, content that I had gotten just what I wanted and fell asleep dreaming of what our wedding would be like.

In the next few weeks, I put the apartment up for sale and moved in with Mr. Jenkins. As angry and disappointed as I was with her, I proposed to give a third of the proceeds from the sale to Lori. He said he didn't care about that, and we had conversation about money. He explained he was independently wealthy and had no real need for my money. We were to keep our money separate after marriage, and he didn't care what I did with mine.

I was making good money at work, and a couple of years of owning a mid-range two bed/ two bath apartment in New York City gave me a solid nest egg, especially since I would be cutting my living expenses to nearly zero. This talk of money got me thinking that I had really no information about the man I was about to marry. I asked him in as careful a way as I could if he would tell me something about his life story.

"Alright, Michelle, what would like to know?" He had never called me that, and it made me kind of nervous to hear him say it. It put me weirdly off kilter.

Finally, I said, "I don't know... where were you born? are you parents alive? How are you independently wealthy?"

"Okay, Sissy, sure. I was born right here on Manhattan Island, not terribly far from here at Mount Sinai Hospital. My parents are both dead now; my father was a famous surgeon my mother had been his nurse before they married, but was just housewife after. My father, whom I loved very much died when I was sixteen, my mother some years later.

"I was supposed to become a doctor, like my old man, but after his death I couldn't really concentrate on school. I struggled quite a bit dropped out of college, but eventually went back to get a degree in Physical Therapy.

"I was always an athlete and enjoyed getting people back to regular life, so that made sense when I couldn't become doctor. I worked for some time for professional sports teams, the Knicks, the Yankees, and some professional tennis players. There was a lot of traveling with that, so I settled down and opened the clinic and been working there ever since.

It turned out that though he only seemed like one of the many physical therapists at the clinic, he actually owned it, though he didn't run it. He explained that he did run it when he started it, but he didn't like it; so, he hired someone else to run it and just did the therapy. This made sense because he was always going off for a week or more at a time without much fuss at work.

"How did you get into the Dom/sub scene?"

"Well, that's kind of a long story, but I supposed I didn't get into it, so much as I was already in it. My parents had a really great relationship. To any outside observer, they looked like the most normal and happy couple in the world. They were happy together, but they were far from what most people might have called normal.

"My mother was a Domme and my father a submissive. She was very stern both to him and to me as a child. She brooked no backtalk or sass, and would use the cleverest means of punishment imaginable. Once, I got caught shoplifting from Woolworth's and she spread rock salt on the kitchen floor and made me kneel naked on it while she whipped me with swish.

"We had a large apartment on the Upper Eastside, even bigger than this monstrosity. Quite a number of different men visited my house often. They would have dinner parties, but, though there was the occasional couple, most of the guests would be men. On those nights, I would be sent to bed early and they would adjourn to a room in the far back of the apartment that was always locked and I never got to see until I was much older.

"I, of course, had no clue what any of this meant, until right after my father died in a tragic airplane crash."

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry."

"Don't worry, it's a long time ago now. Anyway... It was right after dad died that I discovered all of their secrets. I was flunking out of my first semester at Columbia and came home early for the weekend. Even though she had this huge place, not a mile from campus, my mother insisted I live in the dorms, but I was allowed to come home most weekends.

"She clearly was not expecting me. I came into the apartment and went looking for her. I couldn't find her anywhere, but I heard some muffled sounds from that secret room. It was really hard to make out. I could have easily convinced myself that it was nothing, but I put my ear to the door and heard what sounded like a low moan.

"Just then the door sprung open, and there was my mother in a leather halter, her ample bosom on display including her large nipples with nipple rings attached. She was pretty angry when she saw me and especially my eavesdropping. She grabbed me by the ear and pulled me into the room. She was a large woman, almost six feet and strong then; she had been a long-distance swimmer in her youth and could still swim a hundred laps, no problem.

"My whole life that room had been a locked box, I couldn't imagine what went on in there or even its dimensions. After a while, I had just blocked it out, as if it didn't exist. It was mom's playroom. When I was dragged into the room, I saw two men, one was tied with legs over his head on his back in strange contraption that looked like a medieval torture rack. The other was loose, but had a gimp hood over his head. He was wearing leather chaps and a leather vest and nothing else, his cock was fully erect.

'So? you want to spy on what's none of your business, Jordan? Is that how I raised you son?' My mother screeched at me.

'No, mother, I am so sorry. I was just loo...' and she slapped me hard across the face.

'Just shut the fuck up, JJ. You want to see things that don't concern you?! I am going to give you a show, boy.' Before I could object, she shoved a ball gag in my mouth and had the gimp hustle me into a chair where they tied me up."

"'Take off your hood George, show my nosy son who you are.'

He took his hood off; it was my dad's brother, George. He was my favorite uncle; he had a wife and two kids. They lived in a big brownstone in Brooklyn Heights. I would spend a lot of time with my cousins there, especially summers. She pulled him toward her by the balls. She bent over with her ass three feet from my chair.

'Shove your cock in my ass, George, show my son, what all we get up to in here.'

"He did, as instructed; I was in total shock the whole time. I had never heard my mother say so much as 'damn' in my life. To anyone who knew us she was a conservative matronly housewife. When particularly angry, she might use euphemisms like "fudge" or "frick," and now she was cursing up a storm and doing shocking things with my quiet reserved Uncle George.

'What do you think, Jordan, son? I have been fucking George most of your life with, your cuckold father in the same position as that fucking faggot over there. I peered over to the rack, and finally recognized that it was my other uncle, Dan. Dan wasn't really my uncle, he had been my father's partner in medical practice. He had been around me all of my life; he and my father were practically inseparable.

'C'mon George, fuck me hard; I want to show my son how good you make me come when you fuck me hard up the ass.'

George started pounding my mother hard in the ass and her tits were flopping all over the place and he was about to come inside her, she flipped around and shove it in her mouth and let him fill her mouth with come. She swallowed and swallowed, but he kept coming.

"When he finished, she retained some in her mouth. She was a foot away from she turned to me; opened her mouth to show me the cum. Then ripped off the gag and kissed me full on the lips shoveling what was left of his cum into my mouth. I was sickened by the whole thing, but I had a raging hard on too. I wanted get out of there, but she noticed my hard-on, which made things considerably worse. She shoved the gag back in before I could say anything.

'Hey Georgie, looks like your cum gave the boy a stiffy.' She looked at me and asked, 'what should we do about it, son? I have two ideas, but you're not going to like either. You can let me suck your cock, you probably don't want that... a bit too "Greek Tragedy" for you? or you can fuck that faggot over there.' She was right; those were terrible options; I hated them both.

'Oh, I just thought of another option for you prying ass, I don't know if you lean this way, but I can have George here to fuck your ass, I'm sure he can get you to come just like does me.'

"I really didn't want to opt for incest, so I took fucking the faggot, instead. They untied me from the chair, stripped my pants off, but kept my tied hands behind me. They placed me in position in front of Uncle Dan, who was totally exposed. But then... my mother looked me up down.

'Oh my God, George, would you look at this boy's cock. I thought you'd be big, son, but whew! You are going to make somebody really happy someday, and your uncle Dan in just a few minutes. Meantime, I know you wanted to avoid incest, but I'm going to have to suck that cock, son.'

"I struggled to get away, but George, like my dad, was a really big guy and my hands were tied behind my back. Before long, she had her lips wrapped around my cock, blowing me. This was probably about the tenth blowjob I had ever gotten and it felt fucking amazing, my mother could suck cock unbelievably well. She let me go after just a bit, and they pushed me into Uncle Dan's ass, and basically fucked him with my dick, pushing and pulling me back and forth.

"Uncle Dan was grunting into his ball bag; I could soon see that he was coming from having my cock inside him. I didn't even know that was possible, but when it happened it made me come right in Dan's ass, he was bucking up at me trying to get more of me into him, and they pushed me into him and held me there until I finished coming."

"Oh my God, that explains so much. I am so sorry that happened to you, Daddy."

"Oh, sissy. It's really water under the bridge. I ran from that room as soon as I was able and didn't go back home for a long time. I dropped out of school and bummed around for quite a while.