Chapter 1: Introducing the Alexanders
Caution: This BDSM Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft, mt/Fa, ft/ft, Fa/ft, Teenagers, Consensual, Slavery, Incest, Mother, Son, BDSM, DomSub, MaleDom, Spanking, Light Bond, Humiliation, Harem, First, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Masturbation, Sex Toys, Water Sports, .
Desc: BDSM Sex Story: Chapter 1: Introducing the Alexanders - A coming of age story about a boy, from childhood until college, discovering his inner Master. Golden Clitoride Winner, 2006, Best BDSM Story
My family was not your average Norman Rockwell American family, which will become quite apparent shortly. I don't mean to say that I didn't grow up in a very loving family, because I did. It was just not the typical home.
My father's name is Bob Alexander. He was a very strong father figure; very firm, but loving and he had an extremely powerful personality. He was a senior executive at a large company, and as a result, we lived a very comfortable lifestyle. My dad was a handsome man, a little over six feet tall, his black hair graying at the temples, showing signs of middle age but still quite fit and strong.
My mother's name is Mary, and she is a more difficult person to describe. Physically she was quite beautiful and kept herself in excellent condition. She had dark blue eyes and light brown hair which she streaked with blonde. She had quite a nice figure, usually tanned, slim in all the places that she should be, with her hips and breasts swelling nicely. She was about 5' 5" and just a tad top heavy. She also had a fairly strong personality in most areas - the one exception was that she completely acquiesced to my father in every way. I never heard a single argument between them growing up, which I did not find strange until I began staying over at friend's houses and observing how their parents interacted. If there was ever a difference of opinion in my house, my father would listen carefully to my mother's arguments, however he would always make the make the final decision. My mother would never second guess him or in any way question him.
As for me, my name is Jake, and I am an only child. I like to think that I have always been a reasonably advanced child. I always had a number of friends and was fairly popular, but I never really felt I belonged in any of the school cliques. Physically, I had light brown hair which had darkened as I was growing up. I was usually one of the taller children in my class, and I was quite wiry until my mid teenage years.
In addition to my parents and myself, we had one other person living in the house, and this was the one area where our family most noticeably different from other families. The woman who lived with us served in the capacity of a housekeeper. I am not sure when she started with us, but she was nineteen years older than me. I never knew what her real name was; in our house, she was only called Girl.
You see, Girl was not a normal housekeeper. She had a bedroom in our attic, and received food in addition to board. However, she was not paid and she never took a vacation. While my friend's housekeepers joked around with the families whom they served and in many cases were considered part of the family, Girl most definitely was not.
Girl was almost always in uniform, and the uniforms that she wore were very revealing. Any time she bent over, her breasts were completely on display. Her skirts were very short and as far as I knew she owned no underwear. The uniform was traditional French maid by way of Fredrick's of Hollywood. In addition to the uniform, she always wore silver bands on her wrists and neck.
Girl had many tasks to perform, and if she did not perform them correctly or if she did something wrong in any way, she was punished. Since she did not receive any monetary compensation, the punishments that she received were corporal in nature. It was not uncommon to hear my father say at the dinner table, "Girl! Punishment position." At that point Girl would bend over the table near my father and pull her skirt up, exposing her bare ass. My father would then use his hand, his belt or a crop that was always at hand, depending on the severity of the infraction.
While she would often cry out softly, Girl would never complain or argue about her punishment. After each administration she would simply say, "Thank you, sir."
Girl was also punished in other ways, though when I was younger this was not done in front of me. Our attic contained two rooms, my playroom and her apartment. One day when I was about six or seven, I was entertaining myself in my playroom and I decided to go see what Girl was doing in her room. I knocked but there was no answer, so I opened the door and went in. The sight before me was truly amazing, though confusing to my young eyes. Girl was suspended naked from the ceiling by her wrists, a red ball in her mouth and a blindfold over her eyes. Her legs were spread apart and chained to supports on the wall, and on her back were a truly impressive set of marks. It was clear that she had been whipped hard.
I suppose that I should have been worried seeing her like this, but I was not. Instead, I walked around her, examining her condition. I looked at the welts on her back, and as I continued around her I saw that she was marked on her front as well. I couldn't help it. I reached out and touched a welt on her back. She gasped behind the gag, and attempted to pull away, but she could not go far.
I moved closer and ran my fingers along each of the welts, trying to imagine what it must have been like for her to receive them. I continued following the welts around to her front. My fingers crossed over her stomach and her breasts. Her nipples hardened as I ran my fingers over them, following one of the welts. I moved my fingers down to her bald pussy and her thighs, where there were still more marks. As I traced the marks on her thighs I discovered that they were moist, though being so young, I did not understand what that meant. When I had finished tracing all the marks on her body I took a last look and then I left the room, closing the door behind me.
At dinner that night, while Girl was in the kitchen getting the food, I asked my father, "What was Girl punished for this morning?"
"Excuse me?" my father asked.
"I went into Girl's room this morning," I explained, "and I saw that she had been punished, harder than I've seen her punished before. I was just wondering why she was being punished."
My father looked at me for quite a long moment, not saying anything. Girl came in to clear our plates and then went back into the kitchen. Finally my father said, "Actually, she did not do anything wrong."
"Than why was she punished?" I asked.
"You wouldn't understand it right now, but I promise that I will explain it to you in the future," my father told me, and that was all that he would say.
Things continued normally, at least by my family's definition of normal, for another few years. The next major change in my life came when I was eleven. I was at the kitchen counter doing my homework, and I had a snack and drink next to me. Girl was quietly preparing dinner when she knocked over my glass of milk, spilling it on my work. She squeaked, "I'm sorry, sir," and we both rushed to clean up the mess. When it was clean, I looked over my work and saw that it was ruined, and that I would have to do it again.
"It's ruined," I said.
"I'm sorry, sir," Girl repeated.
"That's not good enough," I said. Then I told her, "Punishment position."
She looked at me blankly for a moment and made no move. I repeated myself more sharply, saying, "Girl! Punishment position!"
She waited another ten seconds and then turned to the counter and bent over it. She raised the back of her skirt and put her hands in front of her. I moved behind her and slapped her ass as hard as my little hands could. I spanked her ten times, and then said, "That was for ruining my homework. I gave you ten to make up for the extra time that I will have to spend on redoing my homework. Now you are going to get twenty more for not listening to me when I told you to get ready for your punishment."
I gave her the next twenty, though towards the end I was wondering how my father was able to do it; my hand was getting very tired and hurting, and the last strokes were fairly weak. When I was done she said, "Thank you, sir," just as she would for my father. She then stood up and continued with dinner. What I did not know was that my mother had witnessed the entire episode.
That night my father asked me to sit and speak with him. "I understand that you punished Girl today," he said.
"Yes, sir," I replied. "She was clumsy and ruined my homework, so that I had to redo it. I know that you would have punished her had she done the same to you. Was it wrong for me to punish her?"
"No Jake, it's not wrong. But I want you to understand something about Girl. She will take any punishment that you choose to give her. This places a great responsibility on you. Just because you have the ability to do something to a person does not mean that it is always right.
"Your mother and Girl both told me what happened, and I agree with you that it was an appropriate reaction. But you must be very careful not to administer a punishment out of anger. You are not old enough yet to really understand how to control your anger. Therefore, you do not have permission to discipline Girl any time that you are angry, either at her or anyone else.
"The punishments that you mete out must be appropriate to the infraction, and if they are not it will be my responsibility to Girl to disallow you from supplying the punishment. Do you understand?"
"I think so, sir," I responded. "You need to make sure that I don't hurt her too badly, and if I am angry I might lose control."
"Exactly, son," my father said. "I am proud that you understand that. I am curious about one thing, though. Why did you feel that ruining homework was worth ten, but not listening to you was worth twenty?"
"Well, my homework I could do over again, and it was an accident on her part even if she was clumsy, so she should not be punished too much. But when she did not listen to me, that was disrespectful, and you taught me that being disrespectful was a very bad thing."
"I am very proud of your judgment, and you may continue to discipline Girl when you feel it appropriate," my father told me. I went to bed that night happy that my father was proud of me.
Things proceeded with my life with only a few changes. I did discipline Girl on occasion, but not very frequently. Another thing that changed, however, was my father's behavior towards my mother in front of me. I had known that my father punished my mother the same way that he punished Girl. I had walked by their room enough times when I heard the belt hitting her, and once their door was open just a little. However in the past, it was always done out of my sight. After I began punishing Girl, however, my father now occasionally rebuked my mother in my presence.
I remember one time that we were sitting in the living room watching television. My father came in furious at my mother. I do not remember exactly what the issue was, but she had neglected to do something she was supposed to, which infuriated my father. He said, "I've talked to you about this before! Now strip!"
My mother looked at him in surprise, and glanced over at me, then back at my father with pleading eyes. My father, however, was not interested. My mother got up, unzipped her dress and dropped it to the floor. Again, this was a change. In the past, my mother was certainly not shy about her body, and the clothes that she wore were often skimpy. Never before however, had she been completely naked in front of me. Now she stood there naked; it seemed that Girl was not the only household member that didn't bother with underwear.
"Punishment position," my father announced.
My mother bent over the side of the couch where I was sitting. She put her hands down on the cushion next to me and looked at me as my father positioned himself behind her.
I looked over at her and I couldn't help but staring at her pendulous breasts hanging in front of me. She looked me right in the eye as my father took off his belt and swung it at her ass. She gasped, but did not scream. She continued looking at me as my father struck her twenty times. When he was finished, she simply said, "Thank you, sir."
My father was staring at her ass, breathing heavily. "Please leave the room, Jake," he requested.
I got up and walked out. In order to leave the room I had to pass behind my mother, who was still in position on the couch. I could see the welts rising on her ass. As I left the room I saw my father unbuttoning his pants. I went to my room, but I was old enough by this point to understand what was going on.
After this incident my father did not hesitate to discipline my mother in front of me, though most were not as harsh as the original punishment that I had witnessed. In addition, my mother began wearing fewer clothes around the house, as my father demanded that she dress more provocatively. Things were certainly changing as I grew up.