tagBDSMLove Beyond All Bounds Ch. 01

Love Beyond All Bounds Ch. 01

byFinalStand©

(This is a story about trust lost and then earned. It is a story about lust, love and the many shades in between. It is a story about family, some who you are born with and some who you earn.)

Chapter One (Lies)

*You never really know where you are going until you get there.*

To provide a not too short background here:

My Father is Conrad Cullen. He's a highly successful OBGYN who loves his career more than everything. Everything is about his practice, his colleagues, his conventions, and other social functions that come with profession. He's an athletic fifty year old, with gray hair gone to white.

My Mother is Ilene Cullen. She owns a printing company that has eaten up much of her time since I was still a teenager. She's forty-four, but looks ten years younger. Her being gone didn't affect me much, seeing how she wasn't too motherly when she was around. Her only saving grace in my opinion is that she's terribly hot. She's five-foot seven, around one hundred and thirty pounds, large, full C-cup breasts, an ass to die for, and silky black hair. He is mildly tanned, more beige than coffee brown. Her face is wonderful, with sculpted cheekbones, full lips, and deep brown eyes that seem to soak up the light. Too bad she's such a bitch.

Finally, there is my younger Sister is April Cullen, seventeen and growing into Mom's younger doppelganger, physically that is. Her only physical difference is that her eyes sparkle, especially when she laughs. Personality-wise, she is virtually the polar opposite. She's friendly, out-going, optimistic, and has been my friend since she could say the words 'Brother'. How she has remained so has always amazed me since Dad ignores her – the past three birthdays, he wrote her a check at the breakfast table and told her to 'have fun.' Mom resents her, for being a younger, fresher her. The last compliment I heard my Mom give her was to hear her say, "Dear, don't you look nice today; not your normal slutty self at all." My sister has leaned on me since she was five.

I'm Damien Cullen, twenty two, six foot two, and one hundred and seventy five pounds. I have a thick head of black hair, am clean shaven, and I have my Mother's dark, stormy eyes. Since my favorite sport is swimming, I have a good all-around tan and a compact body. My penis is large, but I've never felt the urge to grab up a measuring tape and measure its length or circumference. Throughout high school and college I never had complaints. Since I was fifteen, and my Sister was ten, I have taken care of her. I made sure her homework was right, her projects got turned in on time, and I let the first few guys she dated knew I could pound them into the ground if I even suspected they'd tried anything. I wasn't jealous. I never thought of my Sister that way. She was my friend and I was her older Brother.

My Dad never made it to a swim meet, asked me what I was doing when he saw me in my tux on prom night, and his only dating advice was to pull out and shoot on her stomach, which is something every fourteen year old needs to know, right? He was nice enough to get me a car on my sixteenth birthday – Mom got one as well, so I figured how that had been worked out. I had to get myself lessons to learn how to drive and an older friend of mine took me for my driver's test. I swear that in the past ten years when I've called my Dad's office for something, I've never talked to him, or heard back from him. I took my Sister to his PA to teach her the facts of life and how do work those feminine products. Mom couldn't be bothered and my Sister was really starting to freak out. Basically, my Dad was the sperm donor and that was about it.

Mom was a more difficult case. Around the age of twelve, I discovered that all my male friends didn't want to hang out at my family's pool because it was the nicest one in the neighborhood. Mom trended toward the most modern swimwear and had worked her body so that she put many swimsuit models to shame. Even when she threw herself into her business, my weekends were filled with some very sexually confusing time for me and my friends. Seriously, how often does a sixteen year old want to hear just how they would do my Mom? Anyway, at fifteen, Dad loaned – yes loaned – my Mom the money to start her own card publishing business. If I often missed her at breakfast, I wouldn't see her until well after dark on a weekday unless she was being drug off to one of Dad's functions. If she hadn't arrived by the time I went to bed, I left her a status update on her pillow, so she could at least pretend to know what her children were doing.

Finally, I graduated high school and my family was good enough to send me to a very nice university were I rewarded them by getting an engineering degree in four years. I was never the smartest kid in the room, but I made up for it with a drive to succeed in whatever I put my mind to. I only had two regrets about college. I had to leave my Sister to fend for herself – she did well and we talked on the phone about her day each weekday night around nine – unless she was on a date, then she called me when she got in. If she needed anything, I found a way to get it for her, but I hated being away. My other regret happened right before graduation. I was helping a friend with a project that was going to take me out of town for three days, but thing fell apart at the last minute, so I decided to go back to the apartment I shared with my long-time girlfriend and surprise her. She was surprised alright. So was I. I found her in bed going at it hot and heavy with one of her college professors – one of her female professors – one of her married female professors.

Here I was, camcorder in hand, about to say "Hey Honey, I'm home," when I see her in between the legs of a woman twice her age, going at it like crazy, while the naked professor is twisting one of her own nipples with one hand and grinding my girlfriends head into her pussy with the other. According to the recording, I stood there seven minutes and twenty one seconds before I backed out. I went back to the front door and slammed it. I called out like nothing was wrong then made my way back to the bedroom. She was sitting in the bed, female cum on her face, tits exposed and smiling at me as if nothing was wrong. There were too many articles of clothing on the floor, and too few places to hide. I went to the bed and sat down.

"Chrissie, who's in the closet?" I said with as much calm as I could muster. My girlfriend, Chrissie, stammered. For thirty seconds no one said anything. The closet door opened slowly and my naked instructor stepped out. She couldn't look me in the eye. Instead she shuffled toward the door.

"Wait," I tell her. I hand her the bra and panties from the floor. "You may want to put these on before you leave. It is cold out." Chrissie gave a hysterical giggle.

"Chrissie, I am going to go now. I'll be back tomorrow at noon and I expect you to have your things gone. We are through."

"Damien," she said softly.

"I am not going to say anything. You two do whatever you like. I wish you had talked to me about this instead of going behind my back. You abused my trust, and that is what really hurts."

I left them there, staring at one another. I packed up a few items that I didn't want Chrissie to run off with, including the camcorder, and headed out to a friend's place. I called him and he agreed to put me up, no questions asked.

Needless to say, my post-graduation plans for me and Chrissie fell apart and I found myself moving back into my parent's house. I got a part-time work at an engineering firm. They loved my work, but in the current economy I was lucky to have anything at all. I learned that most of my old friends had either moved out and up, or had become hedonistic party animals with no future. Dating was tough. For some reason I had trust issues and the little lies that most woman felt were inconsequential, were deal-killers for me. After having regular sex for nearly two years, I was in a long dry spell. Things were about to change though.

About a month after I returned, I had come up late at night from my basement apartment where my bedroom was situated in order to get something to drink. I'd let my mini-frig become empty, but what gems that led me to. I was walking past my Father's study when I heard my parents talking. Dad was angry; Mom sounded pissed off and was pleading at the same time. I had to know what was going on.

"Fifty thousand dollars," my Dad growled. "This is the last time. I've sunk too much money into that pit. If it wasn't for Carter's (one of my Dad's partners in the practice) views on marriage, I would have divorced your useless ass by now. This is it," he said, which was followed by the sound of Dad cutting a check, "because next time I'm calling a divorce lawyer. With our pre-nuptial agreement, you will now get nothing. Worse, I'm going to rake you over the coals for all the money I've loaned you. I hope you like living in a cardboard box, you bitch. Now, what you do you say," he sneered.

"Thank you, Conrad," she said through grinding teeth. There was a moment of tense silence. "Do you want me to go down on you now?" she sighed.

"Bitch," Dad laughed, "you have nothing I want, and Ilene, if I catch you rubbing up against another man, I'll break you. No one wants you cunt anyway. What do you say?"

"Yes Conrad." Mother sounded defeated. I felt sorry for her. The next morning she slapped April so hard she left a large, angry red welt that would be hard for her to explain to her friends. I was busy helping April up, when my Sister saw the anger in my eyes.

"Don't," April pleaded with me quietly. For my Sister, I did nothing, and things remained pretty much like that for five months.

I was angry. I had had maybe one too many beers to drink, I found myself close to where my Mom's business was located, and I figured it was a good time to give her a piece of my mind. I walk into her store and see her long suffering assistant Peggy standing behind the counter. Peggy looked up, recognized me from the few times I had to come by and get permission slips signed for April, and smiled. She was a mousey woman, around thirty and couldn't have weighed more than a hundred pounds. Her long blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail and her thick-rimmed glasses had slipped down her nose a bit. She had delicate features and long, thin fingers.

"Damien, right?"

"Hey, Peggy. Is my Mom in?" I responded. She stood up and her smile broadened, realizing I had remembered her.

"No. She left around eight, but I think she comes back in after closing."

"Do you mind if I go back to her office and leave her an angry bit of mail on her computer?" I chuckled. I was just a little drunk.

"Knock yourself out," she giggled. She buzzed me around the counter and I went back into the printing area and then to her office. I sat down at her computer and was about to type something when I saw a pair of woman's shoes on the ground next to the half-open door to her private bathroom. That was odd. I could have sworn that was the pair she'd worn this morning. I went over to them, expecting them to be broken, but they were not. I opened the door into Mom's bathroom and cut on the light. Hanging from the walk-in shower (Mom likes her luxuries) was the suit she'd been wearing this morning. I was sure of it. I looked around. Behind the door was an empty dress bag. Now I was curious.

I cleaned up any trace that I was there. I went back to Peggy, told her that I was going to wait for Mom, and assured her that I would make sure the door closed if I left before Mom arrived. I also made her promise to not tell Mom that she'd seen me, in case I did decide to go home first. After all, I was a bit drunk. She gave me a knowing wink and made me promise to make it up to her later. I hastily agreed. When it came time for Peggy to close up, I helped her out, chatted her up, and even gave her a kiss on the cheek goodnight. All I needed then was a place to hide. As I said, I was a little drunk. Looking back on my actions the next morning, I realized I was acting nuts.

Mom came in around two-thirty. Fortunately she woke me from a sound sleep. There was enough light generated by the display cases that Mom didn't need to cut any of the lights on. She did cut the light on in her office though. I was sober, but reasoned that since I was already there, I might as well feed my curiosity. I snuck up to the door and peeked in. Mom was taking off her black trench coat. She sat down with her back to me, but I could see her working on some glossy black calf boots. The hose they exposed were fishnet, not the normally conservative style I knew her to use.

When she stood up, I realized that the fishnets weren't hose, they were stockings, because I could make out the garters that hung beneath the hem of her pleated black skirt she was using. Above the skirt was bare skin. The bustier was a size too small, crimson red with black lace and lacing. I couldn't make out the lines of a brazier. Around her neck was a thick black collar. As an afterthought, I realized that she had on black lace fingerless gloves. I had no idea what all of this meant, but I had a tent in my pants and a good deal of shame over that. All I wanted to do right then was bend her over the desk and take her. I had to get out of there. I snuck out before I could witness her changing, made it to my car, and was home in bed before I heard her come in. I had a fitful night sleep.

The next morning, my Sister was teasing me about how tired I looked. Mom came in looking equally beat. I casually asked her how her night had been. She gifted me with her normal contemptuous gaze and lied. She said she'd worked late and crashed in the guest room when she got back. I decided to push a little. I asked if she needed me to help out around the store for a while. After all, work was slow, and family should help family. Mom's gaze hardened.

"It would take too long to train you and you can't seem to stick with anything anyway," she taunted. That was a total lie. I can't remember anything that I started that I didn't finish.

"Mom, let Damien help out," April asked kindly. She gave me a grin. She was helping me out, but I didn't imagine she would be if she knew my intentions, as vague as they were.

"No!" snapped Mom. She took her coffee and stalked out of the room. April's shrug to me showed her confusion. I excused myself, gave April a platonic kiss, and headed off to work. It was only a half-day, with a group meeting and the weekly update. Since I had already finished my part of the project to specifications and ahead of time, I decided to do some plotting. I needed a small camera that could be hid on my person. When I had it, and tested it out, I went back home and got some sleep. April woke me up when she got home we talked for a bit then shared a swim. She was talking to me about her school day, and I was trying to figure how much to tell her. I decided that since I really didn't know anything beside the fact that she wore something kinky, I held my tongue.

After April and I had an early dinner, I made up an excuse and called Mom to see if she was still at work. Peggy said she was, but was too busy to talk to me now. She asked if she could take a message, but I said 'no'. Peggy wouldn't lie to me. I told April I was going out for the night and drove to Mom's work. After that, all I had to do was stake out her car. Before nine she came out with the same trench coat on. She drove off and I was sure that with her arrogance she wasn't looking for a tail. She led me downtown to the old industrial district. It was going through gentrification, so it was safe enough to park on the street. I parked a few cars down from Mom. She walked right past my car going down the street. I got out and followed her.

A block down, she walked up to a large (and by that I mean HUGE) man who was standing in front of a non-descript door. If it hadn't been for the guy, I would have walked right past it. Mom reached into her purse and pulled out a thick, red, plastic card about the size of a wallet. The man waved a metal paddle over the card, nodded and opened the door for her. She went inside. I heard some noises before the door closed, but things were quiet when I strode past. I staked out the place and saw all kinds of people entering. There were some in expensive suits and guys who looked more at home on a construction site. They all produced a card, and they all got in. I needed a card and I knew how to get one. I stole Mom's.

The next night, I was ready to I was dressed in a black shirt, jeans, and black tennis shoes. I didn't want to stand out. I watched Mom approach first. Sure enough, she reached into her purse and ... looked around and finally knelt down and emptied her purse on the street. She was frantic. Finally the man said something to her that was apparently comforting. He pulled out a phone and made a call. The Man nodded to my Mom and opened the door for her. Now it was my turn. Only when I stood before the giant did it occur to me that if the ID card I'd stolen from Mom indicated who it should be, I was in for an epic beat-down. He looked at the card, at my face, and opened the door in one deliberate and practiced fashion. I was inside.

It was a chaotic whirl of noises, smells, and the contrast of bright spotlights in a lake of darkness. I heard whipping, slapping, sensuous moans, and yelps of pain. The odors of sex and sweat filled my nostrils. I stumbled down the first few steps because of the bad lighting. I scanned around for my Mother, spotted her and moved to a vantage point. Mom moved with a purpose. She came to an empty table under one of the lights. She didn't stay alone for long. A woman walked up to her and by the way she reacted, she knew my Mom. I wasn't ready for what happened next. Mother grabbed the woman by the hair with one hand while the other moved her short skirt up revealing her nicely trimmed pussy. She pushed the woman into her cunt and the woman began lapping her up. I wasn't sure what I was going to do next, or how I felt for that matter, but I was glad I was recording this.

It turned out I didn't have to worry about how I felt or what I was going to do next. A woman walked up to me and said, "Bow down," with some authority. I looked at her, wondering how and why she was even talking to me. As I took her in, I noticed she had jet black, hair worn very short. Her eyes were a rich hazel and looked to be one size too big for her face, which was almost doll-like. She wasn't tall, maybe five-one, but was wearing six-inch heels. She had a nice chest for her size, a tight stomach and waist, and gently swelling in the hips and ass. She was a tight package. She was wearing a black mesh body stocking and was tapping her palm with a riding crop.

The woman was looking at me expectantly, which was a pity because I was a little too angry to be kneeling down before anyone. I obviously wasn't acting fast enough, so she whipped the riding crop out and slapped me across the face with it. She had a vicious grin on her face when she hit me.

"Ow!" I reached out and touched my cheek were she'd hit me. I could feel a welt coming on.

"Bow down," she shouted gleefully. A few people were staring. She hauled back her hand for another swat. As the blow came down, I caught her slender wrist in my hand and squeezed.

"Bitch, are you crazy?" I shouted back at her. The look she gave me suddenly changed. Her face showed confusion and fear. I squeezed her wrist harder and twisted.

"Ow," she whimpered. Then something occurred to her. She looked surprised and really afraid. "Oh God!" she babbled, "I'm sorry. I saw the light turn red when you came in and I assumed you were part of the staff. Oh God!" I twisted a little harder, she bit her lip and tears weld up in her eyes. The riding crop dropped from her hands.

Report Story

byFinalStand© 7 comments/ 60080 views/ 52 favorites

Share the love

Report a Bug

Next
2 Pages:12

Forgot your password?

Please wait

Change picture

Your current user avatar, all sizes:

Default size User Picture  Medium size User Picture  Small size User Picture  Tiny size User Picture

You have a new user avatar waiting for moderation.

Select new user avatar:

   Cancel