Rachel
I had only been home a couple of times since Mom’s funeral, on leave from the Army. When I was discharged, I bummed around a few weeks. Then I hitch-hiked home. It was dark when I went up the front steps of the house. I was surprised to find the door locked. I was even more surprised when a tall, dark-haired woman answered the door. She was full-figured, dressed in a tailored suit that showed off her curves. She looked thirty-five, maybe forty. I didn’t know what to say, but she said, “You must be Howard Jr. I recognize you from your picture. Please, call me Mother.”
I guess I just stood there with my mouth open. “Oh, you didn’t know your father remarried, did you? We wrote to your last known address, but the letter was returned, undeliverable, no forwarding address. Well, come on in. This is still your home, you know. Welcome. Would you like something to eat? A cup of coffee, anyway.”
I went on in, dropped my duffle bag by the door, and followed her to the kitchen. The place had changed. New curtains, things like that. Kind of spooky. “Where’s Dad?” I said.
“He got a better job, with Carstairs. He’s on a run to Duluth. I don’t know just when he’ll be back. Sugar? Milk?”
“Black’s fine.” I had a thousand questions to ask, but I didn’t know where to start. “Uh, have you been married long?”
“About six weeks.” At that point, there was a tentative knock on the front door. She motioned to me to stay put, and she went to the door. A moment later, she was back, with a more slender version of herself, obviously her daughter. “Howard, this is Rachel. Rachel, this is Howard, your step-father’s son. Say hello to Howard.”
“Hello, Howard, I’m pleased to meet you.” The older woman pointed at the kitchen clock. Rachel looked at it and said, “I’m sorry, Mother. I know I’m late, and I’m truly sorry.” That seemed strange. It wasn’t much past ten, and Rachel looked at least eighteen, old enough not to have a curfew.
“Well?” said her mother, sternly.
“I suppose I must be punished.”
“Yes. Howard will do it, now that there is a man in the house. Rachel, prepare yourself.” Rachel meekly turned and went down the cellar stairs. “Howard,” her mother said, “would you like another cup of coffee, while we wait?”
“Uh, no, thank you. What’s this business about Howard will do it? Do what?”
“Admonish Rachel. She’s such an unruly child. I’ve had to discipline her, all these years, but it really take a man’s hand. You won’t tell your father, will you? He doesn’t know how disobedient she can be sometimes. Now that you are here, well, I’m sure you will be a good influence on her.”
“I’m not sure I go along with that. I don’t want to…”
“Howard! I am your step-mother now, and I insist you to live by the rules of the house. We are orderly here, disciplined. You must do as I say, as long as your father is absent. Tell me you will.”
“Well, OK. I guess so.”
“Well, I think it’s time you did your duty,” she said. She got up and pointed toward the cellar stairs. She followed me. It was pitch black, as soon as she bolted the door. I felt my way down the stairs and waited at the bottom. A match flared, and she lit some candles. I couldn’t figure out why, as there were electric lights down there. The first thing I saw was a huge crucifix, in full color, with blood flowing from Christ’s wounds. Then I saw Rachel. She was standing there, stark naked. The candle light gleamed on her skin, casting strange shadows, which seemed to ripple across her breasts and linger between her legs. I couldn’t help it. I got a hard-on. Her mother went to an old cupboard which used to hold Mom’s canning jars. “Rachel?”
“Yes, Mother.”
The mother handed me leather cuffs with a short chain between them. “Howard, put these on Rachel.” I hesitated. “Do as I say,” she said, pleasantly enough, as if she were giving me a cooking lesson. Rachel walked toward me, her breasts standing tall; I could see that her nipples had been pierced, and through each one was a gold ring, like an ear ring. I also saw she had no pubic hair, as if she’d been plucked or shaved. I could see her kind of swelling out, between her legs, and the slit down the middle. I’m no virgin, but I’d never had a view quite like that before. As my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I could see everything.
“Uh, Rachel, I really don’t like this. I…”
“Master,” she said, “we must all do our duty. I have it coming to me, for disobeying Mother.” She turned her back to me. She had long, dark hair, which fell down her back like a curtain of black, all the way to her waist. She reached back and held her wrists a few inches apart. I buckled a cuff on each wrist, wondering what the hell I was doing there, but going along with it, anyhow. Mother pulled a rope down from a pulley on a beam overhead. She snapped a snap-hook over the chain, and told me to pull on the rope, the other end. As I pulled on the rope, it raised Rachel’s cuffed hands behind her, making her bend over, so her ass stuck out behind, and her body was about level. Her long hair now hung down around her face, almost to the floor. The rings in her nipples hung free. I was told to keep the rope taut, and to wrap the free end around a cleat on the wall. Mother handed me a wooden bar, about a yard long, with leather straps on the ends. “This is for the ankles, Howard.” Reluctantly, I put a strap around each of Rachel’s ankles, which spread her legs and put more weight on her wrenched arms. It must have been uncomfortable, yet Rachel did not complain, didn’t say a thing. As I raised up from my task, I found myself right behind her, my face inches from her crotch. Her vaginal lips, entirely hairless, were spread slightly now, and what had been a demure crease was now opening, showing pink within. Mother stood beside me, holding a candle so I could see better. Silently, she reached down and spread Rachel’s outer lips, so her ragged inner lips became visible, glistening with moisture. They, too, had been pierced, and there were three gold studs fastening them together.
“Doesn’t that hurt her?” I asked.
“A necessary precaution, lest she misbehave with boys.” I was speechless. “Rachel must remain a virgin until the day she marries, as the Good Book tells us. You would never let a boy touch you there, would you, Rachel?”
“No, Mother.”
“But Master Howard, he can touch you there, can’t he, if I say he can.”
“Yes, Mother.”
Mother, however, did not authorize such a thing. She handed me a long thin rod, like a fishing pole, with a handle on the end. “I think, at first, twenty strokes, for a warm-up. Rachel,you will count the strokes.”
“Yes, Mother.”
“I’ve never done anything like this, ” I protested. “I don’t want to hurt her.”
“It is your duty, Howard; spare the rod and spoil the child. I will instruct you,” said Mother. She pushed me aside and stood, feet apart, almost like a batter in the batter’s box. The limber rod swished through the air and went splat, bending itself around Rachel’s right buttock, rebounding like a spring, leaving a red mark across her ass.
“One,” gasped Rachel. The second blow was a backhand across the left buttock. “Two,” grunted Rachel. Mother swung again. Leaving a stripe across the backs of Rachel’s legs, right at the top, where the skin creases. “Three.” Bent over as she was, the rod had also hit her puffy cunt lips, bruising them painfully. Juices began to run down Rachel’s legs, gleaming in the light of the candles.
“Observe, how effective it is to lay two blows on the same place.” She swished the rod exactly where she had before. This time a cry of anguish escaped Rachel. “I didn’t hear you, Rachel,” said her mother. “Four.” Mother handed me the rod. “You may commence the punishment, twenty strokes.”
“But she already had four.”
“That was just to show you. They don’t count. The twenty must come from her master. Do you need any more instruction?” I knew I had to do it. I went ahead and gave her twenty whacks with the rod, with her counting each one and sometimes breaking into sobs, which made me stop and, as Mother pointed out, just prolonged the punishment. If I didn’t hit Rachel hard enough, her mother made me do it over. I tried not to hit the same place twice, which meant that Rachel had pink stripes up and down her backside from above her knees to the small of her back. When she had called out, “Twenty,” she added, “Thank-you, Master.”
“That was not bad, for a beginner,” said Mother. “Note the effect of a good caning.” She held a candle close to Rachel’s ass. Her cunt was drenched with juices. Mother guided my hand over the inflamed skin of the buttocks and thighs, over the damp skin of Rachel’s cunt lips, which, I swear, quivered when I touched them. “Howard,” said Mother. “I see that you are aroused.” I couldn’t conceal the fact that my penis was pushing up on my belt buckle. “Rachel, don’t you think you should thank your master, for what he has given you?”
“Yes, Mother. Thank-you, Master.”
“I meant you should thank him in a more tangible way, with, perhaps, some little service which would please him.” Mother pulled on Rachel’s arms, to get some slack, then unhooked the rope from the chain between Rachel’s wrists and let her sink to her knees. “Until now, Rachel has trained only with rubber goods. Now that you are here, she should learn with the real thing.” Mother undid my belt and unzipped my fly, pulling my pants down enough to let my meat stand tall. “Rachel, you can thank Howard for a little while, while I watch.” Rachel, with her hands still cuffed behind her back and her legs spread by the bar, moved on her knees across the concrete floor. “Do you want me to take those things off?” I asked.
“Mother wouldn’t like it, Master.” Without hesitation, she put her lips around the knob of my prick. Oh my, it felt good. I reached down for her tits. “Is there something I can do for you?” I asked.
“Master, I am pleased to have received your blows, for which I thank you. It would be sinful to want more. You are a very good disciplinarian. I fear I may find myself misbehaving more often, now that you are here, Master. If I should backslide, it would be your duty to punish me more harshly.”
All this talk delayed the blow job, and Mother said, “Rachel, I thought I had taught you better than that. Can’t you make him come?” Damn, the mood was spoiled. I had been about ready to shoot into Rachel’s mouth; but with Mother watching, I couldn’t. Somehow, it put me off. “A little more diligence, Rachel,” said Mother, “or you shall be punished additionally.” Rachel slurped at my rod, her head bobbing like a woodpecker’s. I wanted to cum, but the more I wished it, the harder it became.
Mother told Rachel to stop. “Rachel, you have failed your womanly duty. A man must never be left in that condition, lest he be tempted to the sin of Onan and spill his seed upon the ground.” My prick was standing there, still wet from Rachel’s mouth, and I watched, helplessly, as Mother hooked Rachel’s chain to the rope again. “Rachel, you will find this unpleasant, of course, but that is the price of a poor performance.” Mother went to the cupboard, took out a long rubber hose, and went to the laundry tub. She let the water run until it was hot, then turned it off and screwed the end of the hose onto the threaded faucet. On the other end was a rubber bag, like a big balloon. Mother approached Rachel from the rear and deftly inserted the hose into Rachel’s ass hole. Rachel must have known it was coming and relaxed, or it would have hurt, with no grease or anything. Mother put my hand on the hose and said, “Please hold it in, Howard.” She turned on the hot water tap, not very far. I could feel the hot water flowing through the hose, and I knew it must be almost burning Rachel’s insides. The big balloon was slowly filling with water, working its way deeper and deeper into Rachel’s rectum. Rachel, almost hanging from her taut arms, began grunting, gasping, as if in great pain, as the rubber bag, uncomfortably hot, stretched her insides. Pretty soon the pressure inside was so great that the rubber bag began to stretch her anus and bulge out of her enlarged opening. Fascinated, I watched as her little asshole stretched, an inch, two, until I was afraid she might tear or something. I let go of the hose, and the rubber bag, big as a football, came oozing out, as if she was having a baby. “Ahhh!” she cried; I don’t know whether it was pain or relief from the pressure. The hot water bag plopped on the floor, and I stared at her stretched anus, not yet closed, showing pink inside. “Well, what are you waiting for, Howard? Fuck her in the ass.” My prick was ready. In seconds I plunged it into her, and her muscles clamped down on it ten times harder than her lips could have. I grabbed her hips with both hands and bucked and pushed and fucked her ass. It was so hot and tight. Rachel was going “Oh, Ah, OHHH!” Either she liked it, or she was a great actress.
In seconds, I unloaded into her. It was the first time I had ever fucked a woman in the ass. I suppose I should have used a condom, to prevent infection, but one thing about butt-fucking, it doesn’t get them pregnant. My step-mother seemed satisfied. “You have done well, Howard. I believe I will retire, now. You do whatever you think necessary, but remember, the studs stay in.” She went up the stairs, left the cellar door unlocked.
I took off the cuffs and the leg spreader. Rachel just stood there, gleaming in the candle light, her hair damply over her shoulders. Her backside and thighs were pink from her whippings, though the color was fading. I took a candle and held it close to her face. She rose up in her toes and kissed me on the lips. I kissed her back with real enthusiasm. “Rachel,” I whispered, “I’m sorry I had to hurt you.”
“Don’t be sorry, Master,” she replied. “I am truly fortunate that you are here.”
“But I whipped you.”
“My mother would have whipped me harder.”
“The hose. That must have hurt.”
“Mother would not have released it so soon.”
“And then, I…”
“I am used to that, but my mother uses a very large rubber dildo. I liked having you in me. I gave you pleasure, didn’t I?”
“Oh, yes.” I led Rachel up to the bathroom, and we showered together. I soaped her all over, being careful not to pull on her nipple rings. It took a long time, to get every nook and cranny clean. Then she soaped me and scrubbed me. I came in her hand. When we had dried each other off, I took her to my old room, and we shared the bed. I didn’t fuck her again. We just cuddled and talked and got to be real good friends. And, of course, we slept in each other’s arms.
– To Be Continued –
-–
by Libertine
