Chapter 3

(Jeanine has been punished for her incestuous act with her grown son. Now it’s Johnny’s turn.)

Johnny had been listening at the door of his bedroom where he’d been told to stay. He’d been alternately frightened and aroused by what little he could hear going on downstairs. Now he could hear footsteps on the stairs and he steeled himself to defy any attempt to intimidate him.

Susie opened the door to find her husband standing in the center of the room, his arms folded across his chest. She brandished the four-foot-long bamboo cane.

“Get your clothes off,” she ordered, “Now!”. She sounded fierce and implacable.

Johnny didn’t move. ‘Who the fuck does she think she’s dealing with?’ he said to himself, resisting the impulse to sneer. He didn’t flinch. Not until the cane whistled through the air and cracked him hard on his shoulder. A major flinch then!

“Hey! Cut it out!” he whined, shrinking a little.

That was answered with another crack of the cane, this time on the side of his upper left thigh. “I said, clothes off. Now!” There was a look of pure rage in her eyes.

“Wait, wait...” Johnny tried to stall. But Susie didn’t hesitate; the next blow struck him on the cheek, stinging him intensely and cracking the skin, raising a welt.

Now Susie spoke more calmly. “If you don’t take off your clothes, I will beat you anyway, anywhere I can find naked skin.” She raised the cane, and her voice. “Understand, motherfucker?”

Johnny was rubbing his stinging cheek. He looked at his hand for signs of blood. He cowered, tears of shock and pain in his eyes.

Susie drew back her arm, ready to strike again. He grasped the hem of his polo shirt and stripped it over his head quickly and started undoing his trousers.

Susie swung the cane through the air a few times, enjoying its whispering whistle while her husband stripped himself bare.

“Jeanine told us how much you wanted to be spanked. Well, now you’re going to get your wish!” she smirked.

Johnny stared at her strangely as he stepped out of his pants. He stood there, blinking, his flaccid dick dangling, making a tempting target in Susie’s eyes. But she resisted the urge.

“Lie down on the bed. On your stomach. Feet on the floor.” Susie’s words were crisp, her voice commanding. This time Johnny complied silently.

Without stopping to consider the shape of her husband’s derriere, which she had often considered quite fetching, Susie set forth to stripe it with stinging blows on both cheeks. She put her whole strength into each swing as if the physicality of her blows could exorcise her pain at his betrayal and her disgust at his incestuous carnality.

Johnny’s surprise at the intensity of the first stripe on his sensitive flesh struck him mute; only a gasp escaped his lips as his whole body jerked in reflex. But on the second strike, he yelped like a wounded puppy and rolled away, onto his feet. In a flash, he charged at Susie aiming to disarm her of the offending weapon.

But Susie had time to react. she sidestepped and struck him in the back with both fists as he lunged past her, knocking him head-first into the doorframe. The house shook as he fell, dazed and beginning to bleed from a gash on the side of his scalp.

The crash brought Sally up the stairs at a run with her bag of toys, eager to assist her daughter, eager to participate in the degradation of her asshole son-in-law.

Still euphoric from the satisfaction of inflicting pain on his slut of a mother, she was highly aroused and eager for more sadistic pleasure. Seeing the boy lying on the floor, she barely resisted giving him a swift kick in the balls.

“Back on the bed, motherfucker,” Susie said calmly, dispelling Sally’s impression that her daughter had lost control. The two women, each grabbing an arm, helped Johnny to his feet and laid him, unresisting, face down on the bed in his former position.

Johnny, his head throbbing painfully, allowed himself to be manhandled as he desperately sought a way out. ‘Maybe if I just take this beating now, I’ll be able to escape,’ he decided.

“I was going to give you ten; now it’s twenty. Do you want to earn more, or are you ready to behave?” Susie asked sweetly.

When Johnny didn’t answer, she signaled to her mother, who immediately cuffed and tied his ankles to the feet of the bed. Johnny tried to get up, but it was too late: his feet were secured. Susie sat on his back while Sally expertly cuffed his wrists and bound him spread-eagle.

Now the beating resumed. “Count them, motherfucker,” Susie commanded. “We’re starting over from one.” Feeling triumphantly vigorous after the tussle with her errant husband, Susie swung the cane even harder than before.

“One!” Johnny screamed, surprising even himself with the heights he reached in both pitch and volume, his voice cracking at the vicious sting of the supple cane, which broke the skin of his soft ass cheek.

“Two!” he sobbed, as his other cheek was striped to match. The pain was searing, burning like fire as it spread deeper into his helpless flesh, each stinging blow adding to the burn that seeped into his bones and sinews. As the blows continued, he had to focus - the counting helped - to keep from passing out...

“Eleven...” He was panting now; his breathing had become rapid and shallow, his whole body burned and vibrated spasmodically as his vindictive wife spread the blows to his upper thighs and lower back in a kind of pain-dance, rhythmic and precise. Johnny had crossed a threshold of agony around the eighth or ninth stroke; he had started to feel detached from his throbbing body.

The burning heat was making him sweat. He felt his face soaking the bedclothes and he felt as if he were outside of his body. And now a wave of euphoria washed slowly over him.

He could picture his wife, so like his mother, brandishing the cane. Face down on the bed, he could see nothing, but he imagined her naked, her big, soft breasts swinging lewdly with each swing of the cane. He let himself surrender to this world of sensation, while forcing himself to focus on continuing to count...

“Twelve,” he whispered, gaining control of his breath as he found a calm overtaking his panic. “Thirteen.” His voice was firmer now. He could do this ... The feeling that he was overcoming the pain - was it becoming almost pleasurable? - increased his euphoria.

“Fourteen.” His voice was steady. His mind-body connection had altered. His body, surrendered to his beautiful torturer, was all aglow; the searing heat, the pain, and the humiliation had melded, becoming a hot, bright light enveloping his whole body.

“Fifteen.” Pure sensation, in its intensity, had become bizarrely erotic. His entire body became one enormous erogenous zone, throbbing with sexual energy.

“Sixteen!” he cried out, his body beginning to convulse, out of control, his mind now reeling in euphoric excitement.

“Seventeeeeeen...” he squealed, shaking, as his rock-hard cock, extended beneath him, began to ejaculate, out of control, pumping spurt after spurt of hot, wet cum between his naked belly and the bed.

There was silence as Susie delivered the last three strokes. “I think he passed out,” said Sally, admiringly.

“Yeah? Well, he’ll pay for that too,” Susie snorted breathlessly.

For the moment, her anger had been assuaged, leaving only the deep throbbing in her excited pussy, the sexual arousal of sheer sadistic pleasure. She wanted only to keep on hurting him, to hurt him until it made her cum.

The two women admired Susie’s handiwork. There were twenty blood-red stripes mapped out across his ass, from his lower back to his upper thighs, and nice blue-black bruises were beginning to turn his whole backside purple.