Chapter 15

The next day, mom and dad went to work, and that night, mom and I just slept, this time in my room. Dad and Pam, who had spent the night before in her room, spent that night in my parents’ room, and it was mom’s and my turn to listen to Pam’s cries of pain and wails of pleasure.

I’d kind of lost track of time and the days of the week, but, as Pam and I lounged around the pool, she reminded me that the upcoming weekend would be the last weekend of August and that our return to classes would be happening soon. So I was feeling a sense of urgency, and when mom and dad got home from work late that afternoon, I approached dad while he was getting a soda from the fridge.

“Hi, Dad, how was your day?”

“Not bad, Son. What’s on your mind?”

“I was wondering ... can I see what’s in your other house?”

He thought for a moment. “Do you think you’re ready to move on and learn more about BDSM?”

“Yes, I do. I think I need some teaching about different implements, different ways to do things. From what I’ve read and what you said, there has to be some variety in what’s happening or things can get boring.”

“Well, you’re right about that; the four of us will go visit the place after dinner.”

“Thanks, Dad, I appreciate that.”

Dad was as good as his word. After dinner, he told mom and Pam to change into tank tops, thongs, and high heels, and then we piled into his car and he drove us a couple of miles to a ranch-style house on a big lot. Mom followed along as he showed Pam and me around the place; there were three bedrooms, each with a private bath, and a big family room with two couches, ottomans, end tables with lamps, and a big-screen video setup. Being in Pennsylvania, the house had a finished basement, and it was set up as a dungeon. The walls were painted black, there were track lights on rheostats that could be aimed at the various pieces of bondage equipment, and there were pegboards on two opposite walls that held an amazing assortment of ropes, chains, restraints, clamps, floggers, and several kinds of whips.

“Holy cow,” I exclaimed. “This place is incredible.”

“No shit,” my sister chimed in.

“I think it’s time for you to learn, and Pam to experience, some of what we can do here,” dad said. There were two St. Andrew’s crosses, one centered on each of the short walls of the rectangular room, and he took mom’s hand and led her over to one of them. “Come here, Alex, and let’s get her up on this one.”

I’d seen, online, the kind of cuffs that were dangling from the upper arms of the cross; they were suspension cuffs, the kind with handles that a person could hold on to. He kissed mom firmly, then took hold of the hem of her top. She raised her arms and he pulled it over her head, freeing her big firm breasts, and then he turned her to face the cross and we each buckled a cuff on her wrists. Mom grasped the handles and waited for whatever was going to happen next.

For the next hour and a half or so, I got a whole series of lessons. Dad put Pam up on the other cross and then he showed me, by demonstrating on my sister, how to use my hands, a variety of paddles and floggers, and finally a singletailed whip, in combination with a lot of kissing and caressing with fingers and silk and fur, to bring my mom to alternating loud screams of pain and equally loud wails of intense orgasmic pleasure.

It was an overwhelming experience, and when we finally let the women down, led them on shaky legs to the couches under the pegboards along the long walls, and wrapped flannel blankets around them and held them in our arms, I realized I’d been so focused on what I’d been doing that I didn’t even have an erection. Mom rested her head on my chest and shivered with the aftereffects of our play, and I stroked her sweat-dampened hair and kissed her tenderly, trying to bring her down gently from her exhilarating, but exhausting, time on the cross.

“Thank you, Sir, that was a wonderful scene,” she said softly.

“I have to thank you in return,” I replied. “You were very patient with me at times.”

“You learned very well, and with only minor mistakes, so it was easy for me to accept what you were doing...” she smiled, “ ... and you certainly made the pleasure worth the pain in the end.”

“I’m glad you feel that way.”

“Oh, I do, and I think it’s time for you to have some pleasure of your own.”

“I really enjoyed what we did, it was kind of a psychic high, watching and hearing you respond to what I was doing.”

“That’s what your father always says, but you’re still entitled to some physical pleasure. You may not feel it at the moment, but there’s got to be some need for sexual relief after so much intimate contact.”

“I suppose so; I definitely wouldn’t turn it down.”

“Then let me see what I can do for you.” She tossed her blanket aside, slid off the couch and knelt between my legs, unzipped my fly, pulled out my limp cock, and gave me a slow, sensual blow job, bringing me to full hardness and then taking me all the way down her throat, bobbing up and down, and then backing off to take a flood of my cum into her mouth and swallowing it greedily. I heard my dad grunt, and when I looked across the room, I saw that my sister was giving him the same reward.

When dad and I had recovered, we stood up. The women put their tops back on and we drove home. As we were tiredly ascending the stairs to our respective bedrooms, dad handed me a key. “This is a key to the other house; you can use it whenever you have someone to visit it with.”

“Thanks, Dad. For everything.”

“Sleep well, Son, you’ve earned it.” We shook hands and I followed my mom into my bedroom. We stripped and fell into bed and we were asleep within seconds.

After a week of playing and sleeping with my mom, two things had become very clear: she wanted a lot of pain with her pleasure, and I was more than happy to give it to her. I’d spent hours, while she was at work, searching the internet and reading and viewing a lot more about D/s and BDSM. Dad had let me bring a few things back from the other house, and in the evenings I tried some things I’d seen and thought about with my mom as my willing training aid. She did a little of what she termed topping from below, telling me how to do some things better, and I practiced with the singletail whip so I’d be really proficient with it.

Pam and I were hanging out in the living room the next afternoon. I was in cargo shorts and a polo; she was again wearing my T-shirt and the high heels that had become her everyday thing since dad came home. From the way her breasts were outlined and her nipples were poking into the fabric, I could tell she wasn’t wearing a bra. I had my Kindle and she had some magazine, but neither of us was focused on reading. After we’d sat for a few minutes, she opened the conversation.

“It’s been a while since we talked, Big Bro, so tell me; how are you doing?”

“I think I’m doing pretty well, Sis. I’ve learned a lot and I think I’m getting a handle on all this kinky stuff. How are you doing?”

“Dad’s been showing me how much like mom I am.”

“In what ways? Are you talking sexually, or what?”

“Well ... yeah ... sexually, of course. You know I’m submissive, and Dad’s been working on conditioning me like mom is. I have a slave name, and I get all wet and ready whenever he says it. But I’m also like her in another way. The spankings were only the beginning; I really get off on the pain when it’s combined with sexual arousal. When it gets to a certain level, some hormones, dad called them endorphins, kick in, and the high I feel is amazing; they make an orgasm into a whole other experience.”