After the horrendous beatings by Gary, I had it in my mind that I'd been absolutely crazy to have so willingly put myself into that situation. I knew without the slightest doubt that never again would I ever want to do anything like it again.
On the long drive back home I'd been tormented with wondering what my husband thought about the whole affair. Admittedly he had been a party to arranging the whole visit, and had seemingly enjoyed every minute of it, even to the point of holding me down so that Gary could beat me untill I was screaming in agony. Perhaps he had done that because he'd lost all respect for me.
Rob, my husband, certainly seemed still loving. He seemed concerned at my tender and bruised condition, but we had hardly said a word about the affair and each seemed preoccupied with our own thoughts as we drove home.
My own overwhelming feeling was one of shame that I had been such a wanton slut, yes, that's the only word to describe me, ... a wanton slut for Gary, openly, enthusiastically and shameless with my husband watching.
Over the ensuing week this feeling of shame persisted, especially when my husband and I played in the bed. Rob was still the same loving and caring husband though, and I slowly began to think that perhaps, just perhaps, he wasn't put out by what I had done. Perhaps, just perhaps, he did still respect me ... why else would he be so loving, seemingly much more loving than prior to our fantastic weekend away.
The thing was that neither Rob nor myself spoke of what had happened, each one of us, I realized later, being completely uncertain of what the other one thought.
The ice eventually had to break, and it did break about a week later when we were fucking and sucking on the bed. I was on all fours with Rob up behind me and pumping his cock into my pussy doggie fashion.
My bum was still very bruised and tender from my beating, and as Rob fucked me he pressed onto my bruising, causing me to wince a little and give an "ouch".
"What's wrong", he asked with concern.
"The bruising is still a bit tender", I replied, feeling a little embarrassed at mentioning it.
Rob must have been embarrassed as well because he was silent for a moment and then quietly said, "can you forgive me for doing that to you"?
I was surprised at his words because I'd thought that it was I who needed forgiveness, but it seemed that my husband was feeling pangs of guilt at setting me up for such a session.
"But I was not an unwilling party to it", I replied, and then added, "you must be disgusted with me for the way that I acted".
"Disgusted"! my husband exclaimed. "Why, I thought that you were the most, wonderful, beautiful thing"!
A cloud lifted and our true feelings came into the open. It transpired that Rob was thrilled with my lustful sluttiness and with the awful thrashings that I had been able to take.
In turn I let him know that I had been thrilled at being beaten and treated in such a degrading manner.
We were both filled with lust as we began to relive the experience, comparing thoughts about every little aspect of what had taken place.
"But you couldn't have enjoyed it"? my husband asked in wonderment.
"No", I admitted. "I certainly can't say that I enjoyed it at the time and yet I did want it to happen and now I am so glad that it did.
Most of the markings, that the lash had left on my
body, had more or less faded away after a week or two. Some of the bruising though, lasted longer and I was quite tender in places.
Likewise, my emotional healing followed a similar path.
A few weeks after my thrashing, I began to look at my experience in a slightly modified light. Whereas at first it had seemed so very stupid to willingly submit to that sort of treatment, I now took the view that I indeed had to try everything at least once, and that having submitted to such a beating, I could now feel a pride that I had actually gone through with it.
It was comforting too, that my husband hadn't lost any respect or regard for me as I had at first feared. In fact his view of me had taken quite the other direction and whenever we spoke of my treatment at Gary's hands, he was full of admiration and pride in me as his wife.
Because of this admiration, I eventually suggested to my Rob that he might like to whip me. His reaction was rather surprising to me in that he shunned the idea and told me that he could never hurt me.
We quite openly discussed our feelings and, it transpired that while my husband had an abhorence of hurting me himself, he nevertheless thrilled at the idea of my abuse and punishment at the hands of other men.
Time continued to alter my attitude until after a couple of months I was looking back upon my beating with fond memories and I knew that if an opportunity arose, I would enthusiastically submit once more.
From that point onwards I purposely, at nights when my husband and I were fucking, would bring up the subject of what we had done, in the hope that Rob might suggest a repeat performance. I was too embarrassed to make a direct suggestion myself.
Because this tack didn't bring the desired result I, after a time, took a different approach and asked Rob if he was still emailing with Gary.
I eventually got out of him that Gary was enthusiastic to again thrash and beat me.
"Is he pressurizing you to take me there again", I asked, trying to keep too much excitement from showing in my voice.
"Well he's pressurizing me to pressurize you", Rob laughingly replied.
"But it's not up to me", I said, trying to put a surprised tone into my voice. "I would do it again if you wanted me to".
"Would you"! Rob exclaimed, his face lighting up with joyous surprise.
The "start" button had been triggered in our minds. It was all now enthusiastic discussion and planning.
The next day Rob told me that he'd passed on the good news to Gary.
"What did he say", I asked.
His exact words: "I always knew that the little slut would be back for more", my husband related with a grin.
It certainly wasn't without apprehension that I planned this next visit to Gary. I could certainly well remember the terrible flogging and the pain and misery and suffering at Gary's hands, and I knew that this next trip would be no different and yet I very definitely wanted it to happen.
It was lust that drove me on. Lust for being degraded and humiliated. Lust to satisfy both Gary and Rob in their perverted, sadistic desires. Lust to be a slut and a whore for them.
Saturday finally came and we headed off on the six hour drive to where Gary lived.
Being so far to drive there, only added to my feelings of debasement and humiliation. How many women would make a six hour trip for the opportunity of being thrashed, beaten and treated like trash.
It was a long day but eventually we reached the town and booked into the motel.
Rob said that he was starving and ordered a big meal, I however only had a light snack as I knew that being whipped and beaten on a full stomach wouldn't be the right thing.
I showered and took great care with my makeup. I dressed in my sexiest, most delicate underwear and put on a light, summer dress.
Rob phoned Gary and then left the motel and made the ten minute drive to Gary's house.
Gary and Rob met enthusiastically and shook hands. Gary then turned his attention to me. "Hello slut", he said with a leering grin and then, with his left hand, grabbed a fistful of my hair, tipping my head back as he kissed my mouth and ran his tongue inside, while his right hand pulled my skirt up and groped my pussy.
"Hello", I smillingly replied when he released me. I used the sweetest voice that I could muster, even though I could feel the pain of having had my hair wrenched.
We had parked on the roadside and were standing on the pavement. Gary nevertheless told me to strip off.
It was not long dark and I momentarily glanced up and down the street before beginning to undress.
Gary undid his pants and took his hard cock out. "Get down and suck this", he ordered as soon as I was naked.
I glanced at my husband who was standing, watching approvingly, then I knelt on the hard concrete of the pavement and lovingly sucked Gary's cock into my mouth.
"I told you the fucking whore would be back for more", I heard Gary telling my husband, and he had a tone of triumph in his voice.
I sucked Gary's gorgeous hard cock for some minutes. Slowly pressing my mouth forward onto his cock, and then slowly easing back so that my tongue could slide and slip around and around the hard rim of his cock head.
Suddenly there was a resounding slap across my cheek as Gary pulled his cock away from my mouth. "That will do bitch", he said. "Get inside and I'll thrash the fuck out of you".
I shuddered but immediately obeyed and moved towards the house.
Inside I was led to the bedroom where I was told to lie face down with a heap of pillows beneath my hips so as to present my naked bum high in the air and ready for whipping.
Gary now selected the multi-strand leather lash that had hurt me so much on the previous occasion. Moments later I heard the swish of leather sizzling through the air and immediately the leather strands impacted my soft flesh and I felt a sharp biting pain surge across my bum, stinging horribly.
I involuntarily gave a squeel of pain and a whimpering gasp.
"Nice"? Gary laughed.
"Nice for you", I replied as I waited in trepidation for the next lash.
My words were cut off in another cry of pain as the leather strands splayed out over my bum and their individual thongs each stung painfully, leaving my bum stinging.
The thrashing kept on and soon I was gasping and half whimpering with cries of distress.
The pain of the lash was stinging and biting. Gary kept it up continually without pause.
Soon my fingers where clawing at the bed as I struggled to withstand the pain. My tearful face was pressed against the sheet as I gasped and panted and cried out as I tried to maintain my position and keep taking my beating.
Eventually it was more than I could voluntarily suffer and I quickly began to wriggle off the bed, protesting that I could take no more but knowing from my previous experience that I would be forced into taking more. My bum was like fire and the cruelty of the lash had left my body in constant sensation of the sharp, burning pain.
"Time you were tied down then", Gary said sadistically as he tossed the lash aside and took up a handful of leather restraints.
"No, no, I can't take any more", I sobbed as he told me to hold my wrists for him to buckle.
A swift lash across my breasts with an end of leather made me shriek. "Hold your wrists out", Gary repeated demandingly.
I stood there sobbing as I held my wrists out and watched Gary firmly buckling them into the leather straps.
I lay back onto the bed sobbing pitifully and felt my arms stretched firmly apart as Gary fastened the straps to the bed.
I was soon screaming uncontrollably as the thrashing continued on and on. In between my screams I was crying and crying and crying.
My body and mind knew nothing but pain. My whole world, my whole existence was horrible, agonising, stinging pain.