Chapter 4

Over the next six to eight months we settled into our new lifestyle completely. The other thing we ‘settled’ into was our reversed roles; not so much as partners but dom/sub as far as lovers and the lifestyle. What I’d done is turn back the clock to the way a husband and wife had lived and acted before the 70’s. Evelyn, due to both her marriage to my father and the positive way I handled it, simply followed me. Over time [in most ways] she became more obedient. There was still the way her brain was wired ... it was obviously wired to cause problems in any relationship. Most of the time, when she did these things, it was completely without any rational thought.

Her drinking was a shining example of that.

I continued to keep alcohol in the house; most of the time I had a well stocked bar and a nice selection of wine and beer. Since I did some entertaining and with casual visitors, there was no reason to not have it around. Yes, I will admit that it was also a little ‘trap’ for my mother. On the other hand, it was her decision to be responsible or not – she was well aware of the consequences for irresponsibility – it was hanging in the kitchen as always.

She was grounded for the bank incident then; a few more times for screwing up. Not as long as the first one though. During the long one I made it a habit to give her some weekly ‘reminders’; usually just a good spanking then corner time. At her age, the time spent in a corner – standing or kneeling, with her freshly spanked bottom on display, wasn’t her idea of a fun time. I made it worse by strictly enforcing it.

Her PO still made regular visits; usually on a Saturday, some of Evelyn’s friends stopped by, my sister came and visited for a week. My father still stopped by at the beginning of every month to drop off the check.

One of his monthly visits was a ‘near miss’.

She had done something to warrant a spanking at the very least. It had happened during the week, she was told that discipline would happen and that it would be given on the weekend. On Saturday to be exact. Making her wait for a punishment session had become normal; the same as the dreaded and humiliating corner time [which she hated]. We weren’t playing spanking games here; the punishment was always real. Most of the time I judged how much or how long by tears and her real sobbing. I gauged this severity with how much damage her bottom was showing. Anyone can get worked-up and cry crocodile tears.

Following breakfast I made a point of telling her that her discipline would be handled after lunch. Other than that there was no discussion, she was simply told, “After lunch, I’m going to give you the spanking you have coming.” End of discussion. Evelyn had learned that, bitching, whining and pleading didn’t do any good.

So, following lunch, after things were cleared up in the kitchen; I took her to the living room where things were set up for it. I’d moved the coffee table out of the way then placed an armless chair in the center of the floor. There was no fuss about it. I simply took her arm, led her to the living room, put her over my lap then flipped up her skirt and pulled down her panties. Evelyn did her part by pouting, balking just a little, gasping then breathing a little harder once she was over my lap. Within about fifteen minutes; less panties and shoes, she was well lectured, well spanked and found herself standing in a corner of the kitchen. As she stood there; feet spread a little, toes turned in sharply, holding her skirt well up around her waist with her glowing bottom on display; she had time to cry quietly [while her nose ran and tears fell] while reflecting on her behavior.

Half an hour later I ordered her to our room.

No sooner had she used the upstairs toilet than my father arrived with the check. We had a short conversation then he left.

There was an adult sized soap suppository in her future as well as sodomy. I fixed that up in mid-afternoon, put it in warm water to soak a little then, checked on my mother. With a bottom still tingling from the spanking and showing a few bruises; she was pouty and tearfully repentant.

From experience I knew that a larger sized Ivory Soap suppository could be very uncomfortable; especially when it was inserted after soaking in warm water for a while. In her case, within something like fifteen minutes, she would experience the first cramps. Not too bad the first time – just her body telling her that, she’d be sitting on a sore bottom, on the toilet, very soon. Following the second bout of cramps; I allowed her [once they’d subsided] to take a seat and wait. Normally, within about ten minutes, or less, she would experience an explosive bowel movement, brought on by another set of cramps.

That evening, following dinner and a movie, I was given an apology in the form of a nice sloppy blow-job. Long before I erupted in her mouth; I hustled Evelyn to the bedroom. There, I finished in her red hot cunt, leaving behind a big creamy load of cum. About an hour later, following some foreplay and a good amount of pumping her tight little rectum with my finger; I placed her on her tummy, straddled her then, spent a good half hour stretching her rectum. Evelyn took no pleasure in anal but she took it. Wiggling, squealing, jerking around under me and begging me to cum ... she endured with only a few tears.

My father had been the only other one to attempt that puckered little hole. I found out that I was a little bigger, both in girth and length.

The visit from my sister was interesting to say the least. Since she was aware of our ‘living arrangement’, there was no need to change anything. My mothers’ old bedroom had become the extra bedroom now; she would be sleeping there.

I’d had a few more phone conversations with her but nothing hit home until she actually showed up.

Once she became comfortable she started to ask questions; a lot of them were pretty embarrassing to Evelyn. Talking about our sex life wasn’t a real problem except that my mother did a lot of blushing. Eve finally blurted out [over dinner], “That paddle looks like the one we had at home ... I’ll bet it stings just as bad too.” Evelyn pushed her food around and stared at her plate. “How many times has it been used?” directed at either of us. Evelyn didn’t answer so I did... “I think five or six times so far.” “Damn ... mom ... that’s more than when we were going up!” Eve knew about the spankings, we’d talked about that, she knew about the first one which was quite a day. She was right; maybe it was me or maybe Evelyn was just misbehaving more now. It did seem like she was being disciplined a lot more. A few times, she’d been paddled so hard she had trouble sitting for a while. Eve did know about the check incident and everything that happened then. She also knew that I’d forced my mother to have anal sex. The first few times hadn’t exactly been rape, it came close, she was still forced into it. She seemed excited that, at the age of forty-five, our mother had her anal cherry popped ... finally. My little sister realized that I was creating a dom/sub relationship with our mother and, so far, it was going pretty well. I hadn’t realized that right away but it was true. All she had to do was behave herself.

The first evening they did a lot of talking. From what I overheard it was about split between our sex and punishment; Eve was fascinated by the fact that the paddle hung in plain sight in the kitchen; her one comment was, “Well at least anyone that sees it will know that it isn’t a bread board.” She knew that some friends had asked about it and, that my mothers’ PO [as well as a few close friends] knew that Evelyn was both spanked and paddled when she was out of line. Her PO especially knew how many times it had been used and how severe a few of those times were.

It was just the same as the incest; it was happening but not flaunted.

It was a nice week – at times embarrassing for our mother – but nice. Eve didn’t hold back on asking questions; sometimes getting answers that had more information than she wanted to know. One thing that she found [while snooping a little] was the fountain syringe set. There were a few comments and the obvious questions that embarrassed the hell out of my mother. As kids we’d been given both enemas and small soap suppositories when we were constipated. Evelyn did tell her about the larger soap suppositories I’d used. She had one word to describe them ‘horrible’. “The worst part is that he ‘makes’ me hold them until I’m about to explode. The cramps I get are the worst in the world!”

A few weeks after the visit a package arrived from her. It contained a heavy leather strap, about like a razor strop but heavier and thicker. Inside there was a note about putting it to good use. I hung that on the back of the basement door. I had considered using a belt across my mothers’ bottom a few times; the strap was even better. We both knew, from experience that it hurt about as much as a paddle but did less lasting damage.

Evelyn had been given the razor strop, on a few occasions, when we were growing up. We’d inherited one that came with the barn. By complete accident I’d watched my father ‘paint’ that little bottom with it once. She’d been very sore when it was over, her entire bottom a deep red and bruised in a few areas. With the strop, the pain and bruising went away faster. Her drinking had been increasing in the past few months; not out of control just more than usual. When the strap arrived I made the decision to let her go for a while and see how bad it got. I was pretty sure that it would be like every time before. I’d finally act to discipline her and, the strap would be broken in.

It took about three weeks.

I allowed her to sleep it off a few times when she went too far; on those days I fixed dinner then woke her when it was almost ready. There was always an apology and a promise to not do it again. Of course the promise was always broken when the bottle called her. The last time became the last time when she made a pretty good mess. I came home to find her sprawled on the love seat in the living room. She’d been through almost two bottles of wine before going to sleep. Not only was the last bottle spilled on the carpet but her last glass as well. White wouldn’t have been bad; a nice red really stood out. I was making dinner when she woke up. There was suddenly a flurry of cleaning activity when she realized what had happened. I told her not to bother; I’d have the carpet cleaned in a few weeks anyway. “You are getting a little out of control with this again dear. I think it’s about time to get your attention again.”

There was another promise, “I will cut down ... really ... and I will scrub the stain out of the carpet. Bob, honey, I am very sorry ... really ... I will clean the mess up.”

I simply replied that she could try, “ ... you’ll be cleaning it up with a sore bottom though.” That was, as I remember, on a Tuesday. She could work at getting the stains out but there would also be some punishment involved. “On Saturday you’ll have a chance to meet the new strap. I believe that a little spanking to warm you up then ... a good session with the strap, should get your attention for a while.” That happened during dinner. Hell, she knew [or should have expected] that she’d be punished. I finished my meal; Evelyn pouted while staring at her plate and pushing the food around. She just couldn’t control her urge and knew it; I don’t think she really even tried. Over the next few days she tried to scrub the carpet; in the process making an even bigger mess. For me it wasn’t the carpet; it was about her drinking and the disobedience. While waiting for Saturday I got the strap out a few times and gave it a good coat of oil then saddle soap. It was still very stiff; I’d just given it a little more flex. The leather was over a quarter of an inch thick and ‘natural’; there was a well-tanned smooth side; the other side was raw and rough. Aside from the pouting she spent the rest of the week being an angel in most ways. She was very attentive; I didn’t think there was any more drinking and, one night, she almost begged me to have anal sex.

Yes, Saturday was the normal day for her PO to visit. Evelyn would be sitting on a very sore bottom for the weekly interview – she would also be showing the effects of a damned good bawling session.

On Saturday Evelyn was mostly quiet, reserved and more than a little nervous. When we ate breakfast I had her take an Exlax [which wouldn’t act right away] then, at lunchtime – she wasn’t interested in eating – I gave her the soap suppository that had been waiting in warm water. When I inserted it, it was obvious that she needed it. Within minutes the bitching started; the cramps became agonizing. While it worked I cleared the dining room table and removed the chairs from one side. There was one chair set up in the living room but the strap was lying on the dining room table.

I’d had her on all fours, with her head resting on her arms, just outside of the powder room; while the suppository worked. When I had things set up she was enduring her third set of cramps; I had her use the toilet which became explosive. When it was over and she was cleaned up; I had her go have a seat in the chair I’d set up. She hadn’t bothered [knowing what was coming] to get dressed; spending the morning in a dorm shirt and panties. Now ... only the dorm shirt, as she waited.

We both knew ‘why’ but I gave her a short lecture anyway. That got me an apology that was almost tearful before I put her over my lap. I’d positioned the chair so that she would – until tears clouded her vision – be able to have a clear view of the mess on the carpet. There was no balking; Evelyn stooped, bent and went over my lap without a fuss. All I had to do was bundle the dorm shirt up around her waist and begin the spanking. I didn’t stop until that bottom was good and red and, she had started to cry. After that it was a short walk to the dining room to bend her over the table. I did tell her that she was getting ‘about twenty-five’ licks with the strap. As long as she stayed in position there wouldn’t be more. As usual, if she didn’t obey, there would be more.

She wiggled around a little as I applied some baby oil to her cheeks and upper thighs. Peeking over her shoulder didn’t help much, she was trembling when I finished. I’d decided to give her ‘sets’ of two or three then a little wait of maybe half a minute between the ‘sets’. That would maybe, help her stay in position better, negating the need for any additional punishment. The last of the strapping would be over her lower cheeks and upper thighs. For a few hours at least, sitting would be a bitch for her; just about the time her PO would be coming.

Mother made it to something like eight or ten lashes before she lost control. The last ‘set’ had been four, right across the center of her bottom and, all of them in about the same area. She’d started crying before that but; those last ones had her up on her toes wailing like hell! She was trembling like hell all over but violently in her bottom and thighs ... just like the reaction the paddle produced. I gave her a short break. By then her bottom was, from just about halfway up to the lowest part, a good solid red. There were a few marks from the edge of the strap plus some very livid bruises – on the side of her right hip – where the end of it had snapped around making hard contact. She was pouring tears, her nose was running and she tried, while standing there, to rub the pain away. Especially on her right hip which was, I imagined, just blazing.

When I told her to get back in position she obeyed but slowly.

There were ten more, given in sets, just as hard as all of the others. There was a lot of twisting and flexing, she had trouble keeping her legs under her after a while. I’d stop and wait a minute for her to regain some kind of control. That little bottom of hers was looking pretty bad. “I’m going to give you eight more dear ... all at the same time ... stay in position and it will end there.” All I got for an answer was a long wet moan; she knew better than to protest or argue.

For the next few minutes the strap cracked loud in the room as I delivered the final part of the whipping. Evelyn added to the noise by simply howling her head off. The last of it was on her lower cheeks and upper thighs. By then she was laying mostly on the table, kicking like hell as she wiggled around. I allowed her to compose herself a little then hustled her off to a handy corner ... ordering her to hold the dorm shirt up and keep her hands away from her bottom! While she stood there flexing and bawling; I cleaned up the mess of tears snot and drool on the table top. I had placed the strap on the kitchen table.