Gabriel's Story

"I've got to say that the moment he took that authoritative tone I was completely at his mercy. I willingly went over his knew. Everyone on the patio stopped talking and watched him spank me. He did it so hard I was crying. It was so hot. When he stood me up he simply ordered me to undress. I didn't think. I just followed his command. This wasn't a sexy strip tease. I just took them off. I handed him my unbuttoned blouse and reached around and released my bra and handed that to him. The gasps made me start thinking about what I was doing. Instant flush. Before I could reconsider my decision he demanded the rest. Thankfully that got my attention back on obeying him. I let the skirt fall as soon as I released the button and then bent completely at the waist showing off my pussy to everyone as I removed my panties and handed both to him.

"I could feel the fear rising inside. He fixed me with his eyes and ordered me to follow him three steps behind all the way to the car. The stares were a physical weight. My whole body was aflame. At the curb any thought that this would be over soon ended when he dumped all of my clothes in the trash."

I just stared at my friend. At Christmas break I was sick listening to her recount what she and Gavin had done together that led to this whole sexual maelstrom. This time I eagerly consumed every sordid detail of their romp.

"It made me so horny. All I could think was that I was actually doing it and nothing bad was happening. And I felt a deep trust in Gavin that he wouldn't let anything happen to me. That gave me confidence. He never looked back. That kind of confidence was strengthening. I was proud to walk naked behind him. I had his cock in my mouth before he had the car started."

Gross. Why did she feel the need to detail her and Gavin's sexploits? It was undeniably arousing, though. I could feel the heat rising between my own legs. Again!

"I still had to walk from his car to his room. That was actually longer and of course I had to walk the halls of his building. But I didn't care. His cum hung from my chin. My nipples ached they were so hard. I didn't care about getting under cover; I just wanted to get to his room so I could fuck his brains out. I felt like a queen walking behind him naked."

I've never understood Cassie's habit of using obscenity freely when talking about what she and Gavin do together. It punctuated the story adding emphasis and emotion to the events in a way that a more articulate manner would not. The effect on the listener is electric. Thankfully she didn't describe the events once the door closed. But it made me want her to.

She stood pulling the shirt over her head, "I've got to bathe."

Both naked now she stepped around me and drew a bath. I closed the toilet and sat next to her. We kept talking as she washed. I lathered her hair and tried not to think about what she was cleaning out of her kitty as I did so. While she toweled off I put my normal bed clothes back on. I couldn't help but notice how slick I was between my legs or the way my nipples pushed visibly at the top.

The computer was still open on my bed. The video was ready to play again. I hesitated in embarrassment. Cass did not. She logged me out and closed it and then turned to me. "Babe, you've got to stop watching that stuff. Promise me you'll give yourself a break, please."

I couldn't argue with her wisdom. I just stood mute and sad. It felt like what I imagine an addiction intervention might feel like. There was self-loathing at my weakness and a longing to take the computer back and watch that video all over again just to reject her, and to satisfy my craving too. The force of the urge was so powerful I trembled and began crying softly again. I was on an emotional rollercoaster. Cass folded me in her arms once again. "Why are they that way," I sobbed?

She didn't answer. There wasn't an answer, and there never would be one. Cass laid me on my bed. She half climbed in with me. Her knee slid between my legs and up against my kitty. The hard pressure against my joy button felt good. Her hands were on my waist and moving upward. Her towel opened provocatively in the front. A quick glance down showed me her still damp curly blond tangle. She hovered inches over me. My own arms clung to her sides. I could feel her hands brush against my breasts moments before she would begin pushing my top up. Face to face. Both of our lips were moist in anticipation. I wanted her to continue so very much. I think I could be happy if I was hers. But I just couldn't commit.

"Cass, I'm not like that," I whispered sadly.

She stopped. It was almost a metaphysical cessation. I'd not meant a rejection of her and thankfully she didn't take it that way. It was just over like a ball game abruptly ends at the final out without denouement. Love for me still radiated from her every pore. I knew that she understood. "Neither am I," she confessed breathlessly.

She stood and pulled the towel free. She is gorgeous! Sexuality and innocence exude from her like the sun rising in the morning. I wanted very much to change my mind and take her nipple between my lips. "Come on," She said.

She gathered me in her arms and pulled me to her bed. I again protested that I wasn't Sapphic, but she shushed me and told me that I didn't need to be alone that night. We fell together into her bed. She held me close and I cried myself to sleep on her shoulder with my legs wrapped around hers, an arm over her stomach and my mouth not two inches from her delectable pink nipple. It felt so very natural to be together. And we were many times after that. Sometimes with me on top like that first time, or spooning, and even face-to-face with our legs tangled and breathing each other's air.

Of course I went back to watching the videos under Cassie's watchful supervision. The remainder of the archive was a progression of disturbed debauchery. It seemed that a change had happened and Mr. Dietz was merely seeking the most disgusting means of subjecting mom to repeated gangbangs. The unusual aspect was that mom seemed to really thrive under the degradation. My confusion about their relationship continued to grow. By the end of the term and my descent into the video orgy I'd decided to confront them and demand an explanation.

It was pompous of me to think that they owed me anything more than they had already given. And it was terribly ungrateful of me to think that I had a right to demand anything from them about their personal lives. I should have simply asked about my real father, but I was too far gone by then to think rationally. My progenitor was the last thing on my mind. I wanted to know what made this sick game of theirs attractive and I intended to make them show me. I had a plan ready when I returned home after the semester.

Here are a few quick remarks to set the stage for the finale of my story. Mom visited twice during the spring term. Cass and I played it cool over lunches with mom concealing our knowledge in the mistaken belief that we were sparing mom any embarrassment. It was silly of us to think that a woman that routinely goes naked in public and performs sex acts on camera can be embarrassed. But we felt we had a good handle on this 'don't ask; don't tell' secret life she was living little thinking that anyone with two decades of covert experience couldn't be deceived so easily. I practically screamed my awareness to them both during the Christmas holiday. Nevertheless, I acted the virginal ignorant that I thought she expected of me during both visits.

Furthermore, my obsession with their unconventional relationship had blinded me to the fact I really already knew the answers to these questions that plagued me so. Instead I sought to force some cathartic confrontation from the two of them. I wasn't so naive as to think that I could simply ask either of them what drove them to such bizarre behavior, or so I thought at the time. Had I listened to the advice of my friend when she suggested that very thing I'd have spared myself much trauma and embarrassment. But I didn't. I was filled with righteous indignation and an uncommon, for me, level of narcissistic hubris.

I love my mom. She is my very best friend and I am ashamed now to say that I returned her unconditional love with deceit, manipulation and anger. The anger rose from some childish conceit that she belonged to me. Not in the creepy way she belonged to Mr. Dietz though. And that conceit blinded me to the fact I had deceived myself as they played me so thoroughly. That's right, the rest of the way I marched to their tune without realizing it.

Mr. Dietz was much more confusing for me. He'd done nothing but the best for me my whole life. And nothing in the videos or on his site did anything to change that. But I was not only angry at him for what he did to mom; I still thought that he had somehow caused her to be become a degenerate, at this time I loathed him for stealing my innocence away with his perversions. Again this was me blaming others for my choices. True, my innocence of thought was gone. I can't count the number of times I now fantasized about getting it on with my mom or even taking him in my kitty for my first time. I just didn't want to own the responsibility for my choice to become perverse. I needed it to be his fault. I wanted it to be his fault almost as much as I wanted him.

And I longed for him to take it all away and make it like it was before I knew. I love him. And I loathed him. My heart ached from the abuse I'd heaped upon myself for five months like a child that breaks a bone and just wants dad to kiss the pain all away. At the same time deep inside the thought lurked that he hadn't had sex with mom because he found her somehow unworthy of his love. He'd certainly said that enough times for years. I harbored a secret hope that he could find me worthy and I would be the woman he'd take as his own. And I hated myself for that.

Again, don't judge. Despite being responsibly raised and an outstanding student and reasonably well-adjusted I was in a very sinister place emotionally at that time. Thankfully Mr. Dietz is who he is. Unfortunately at that moment I couldn't see that.

I knew that I couldn't just talk to mom because she'd go right to Mr. Dietz for permission first which I was certain he'd not grant. Asking Mr. Dietz (even then I couldn't help still calling him that though I loathed doing so) was out of the question as he'd not consent to any discourse that wasn't of his agenda. Somehow I had to trick them into giving me what I wanted. You can laugh now. It's ok. I do too now that it is all behind me.

So my plan was to surprise mom with my knowledge of their secret behavior and then coerce him into... well, I still didn't know what. I figured I'd do the same thing he did and stage the situation so that he'd give me the answer to why he does what he does because it would seem to be what he wanted. I know, total idiocy on my part. How am I, an untried sophomore, going to manipulate a man that's been doing this for near on two decades? But that was my plan. They so saw me coming.

So, now onto the finale, once home I slid back into the normal home routine as I had the previous year. Knowing what to look for I could tell that they were gearing up for one of their special weekends soon. I planned to turn that to my advantage. So shortly after lunch on a warm late May afternoon while Mr. Dietz was away mom and I stood together washing the dishes as we've always done before. He insisted that most of the household chores be done the labor intensive fashion. No complaints though, because I'm used to doing things that way, but I used the opportunity to catch mom off guard. "Why don't we just get a washer," I asked.

Mom answered with her usual stock reply about how Mr. Dietz prefers that we rely less on conveniences instead strengthening our competence. I nearly ground my teeth at that answer even though I expected it. Before she'd even finished I popped the next question on her. "What's your safe word?"

"Gabriel." Mom was stunned. She dropped the dish she was drying shattering it on the stone tiled floor. "Damn!"

I couldn't believe it. "You use my name," I gasped.

"Oh sweetie, I don't know what to say. I...we both knew I'd never forget that." We faced each other. Finally she asked, "How long have you known?"

Even though this is exactly the result I'd been aiming for the revelation that they had perversely used me in their sick fantasy game had struck me dumb. Mom was afraid. I could see that as tears misted at the edges of her hazel eyes. Surely she'd apologize or ask for forgiveness or show remorse I thought. That wasn't to be. She'd always done exactly what he'd commanded her to do. And right then I knew that she'd never used it. During all that time she'd not once been pushed too far. Not once had she feared or suffered or been repulsed by his demands. And that is what I knew she was really afraid of admitting to me. I wanted to scream. Instead I watched her kneel down and gather all the pieces of the broken plate even down to the splinters and place them all on a towel to present to him when he returned. It'd been ages since the last time a dish had been broken in his home. That's how I started to see it; his home. We both were just guests of his generosity. I still remembered what the consequences for breakage are.

The situation played into my hands, or so I thought.

Mr. Dietz practices a form of etiquette Domination bondage kink. He writes extensively about manners and courtesy as well as station specific behavior. For him it seemed that the world revolved around how the lower castes respect their superiors and how the upper castes take responsibility for the lower members. I'd misinterpreted what he was really doing thinking that he viewed the whole world that way instead of seeing how everything he did was strictly focused on mom. So I knew mom would present the evidence of her transgression to him as soon as he got back.

While we waited I questioned mom about what goes on between them. We sat at the table with the afternoon sun streaming in like two close friends having tea together. The reality couldn't be more different. Under our casual conversation we faced each other as adversaries. For me I tried to trick and interrogate mom until she gave up the secret to her submission. Devious turns of phrase and repetitive questioning were my weapons. For mom we were rivals for something I had not realized that I longed to have. She knew me better than I knew myself at that time. She never gave me anything more during that afternoon than I'd already read from their website. I seethed inside at how faithfully she conformed to his will. The worst was how she continued to insist that Mr. Dietz had done all this for her. We smiled at each other and pretended that we weren't both on the cusp of open warfare.

For the first time in my life mom didn't have any loving comfort for my distress. She empathized with my hurt but would not apologize for what she does. I'd never known her to distance me this way before and it appeared that it pained her to do so. No matter how much I pushed, or how graphic I described what I'd watched them do she was neither ashamed nor embarrassed. When in frustration at not gaining any admission from her I taunted her that he treated her like property.

"I am," was her unabashed response almost as if she was proud of the fact.

I couldn't process that. Even then I still thought of what they did together as a sick game they played. Hyperbole is all that was I wrongly thought. We lapsed into silence.

I tried a different approach. "Does it feel good," I asked? There was more to my question than just to get her talking. I wanted to know.

"Not always," was her measured response.

"Then why let him do those things to you?"

"Everything he does is good for me."

To simplistic I thought. More and more I began believing that he'd suppressed her intellect. Maybe he'd used drugs. More likely, having watched the process, it was a natural self-defense to cope with the unremitting cruelty she'd been subjected to. I knew that I had to get mom free from him.

We sat close to one another at the table corner. My hands were restless wanting to reach out to her both to convey support and to hold on to someone I thought that I could trust. I knew what would happen when he came home. I could see it in my mind. Part of me wanted to see this happen now that I knew it for what it was. He'd not punished me when I had transgressed at Christmas. That was a puzzle still. And I wasn't sure if I was grateful or disappointed. "Why does he do those things to you?"

"Because he loves me," all of her responses were direct. No prevarication. No hesitation. She truly believed that. We lapsed into silence again.

The sun eased toward the horizon. Inside its rays became golden and warm like a comfortable blanket. My thoughts turned outward. Mom sat straight in the chair looking calmly at me. There was much she could have been doing. Instead she waited patiently for me. If I had more to say she'd be ready. I did. I just couldn't decide what. The anger at them both roiled through my thoughts like a bubbling stew. I wanted to scream and rage at her and then him. But looking at mom I could imagine her as I'd seen her in so many of their films. I was seeing her uncovered breasts with weights attached to the bars pulling at her nipples. Would she be suspended from the ceiling by her wrists as he flicked the riding crop at her defenseless flesh or strapped to a chair impaled by an anal spreader? I licked my lips. Could mom read my thoughts? Did she know that I was turned on by what I'd seen her do? That I was turned on by her? I just knew that I had to bring their...whatever it was to an end. I had to do it for her sake and my own. But this was just the opening overture to the first act of our little play. We both marked the time until Mr. Dietz returned.

On his return events began unfolding like a well-staged play. Mom indicated by her stance that she had something to confess. I watched from my chair as he questioned her. She displayed the destroyed dish and identified the number of shards down to the slivers. We all knew what would come next, eighteen pieces; eighteen swings of the paddle, but it turns out that I was mistaken.

With downcast eyes, "...and I swore," she confessed.

Profanity is so absent from his home that her lapse should have been glaring to me. Instead I'd become so fixated on what I thought was my master plan that I'd missed the fault when it happened. Of course I couldn't anticipate the next part.

"She knows."

Come on! You wouldn't imagine that your mom would tell your dad that you were having a conversation about what they do in the bedroom. Neither did I expect that she would tell him. The lapse of control lasted only a moment before I reasserted what I thought was my control, "That's right." It was a challenge. I was putting him on notice, or so I thought.

He didn't acknowledge my statement. Instead he pointed to the trash where mom took the dish remains. Mr. Dietz went to his room to retrieve the paddle. I expected the light wooden one he'd customarily used on her for this offense. Surprise again, he returned with a cruel studded leather one. Mom promptly bent over at the waist and raised her skirt in preparation. Surprise number two was the grip for a plug nestled in her crease. So there had been some changes since I moved out.

Mom's ass is flat and lean with taut muscles rippling beneath her pink skin. Nine strokes to each cheek. Bruises began even before he'd finished. I bore witness to his cruelty not averting my eyes for even one stroke. It was even more arousing in person than when watched on screen. My kitty juiced in a flash. I even fantasized about receiving a spanking wondering if I could withstand the pain as well as mom. She thanked him after each blow. Tears streamed freely down both of our cheeks, but neither of us would yield.