THE CARD
Such an innocent thing; such a momentous impact on our marriage.
That sentence describes in a nutshell exactly what occurred one night, and what happened because of it. I was home alone that evening because my wife, Nicole, was attending her weekly Bible studies at a church across town. I had never been a religious sort of person, in contrast to Nicole, who had been raised in a fundamentalist religion that I often thought of as little more than a cult.
I had no interest in going with her to the Friday evening sessions and she had never minded my lack of interest. As for me, I didn't object because I quickly learned that when she returned to our home after attending Bible-study classes, she always initiated sex with me as soon as she climbed in our bed. The first couple times she did that, I resented being awakened from a deep sleep, but as most males would understand, the benefits far outweighed the drawbacks, and I soon came to look forward to those nights.
The innocent, but momentous event I referred to above started with a simple thing: After eating the meal Nicole had prepared for me before she left for church, I took my after-dinner cup of coffee to the couch in our living room, then sat there watching a basketball game.
As I sat down on the couch that evening, I saw a brightly-colored something or other wedged between the cushions, and immediately thought that whatever it was must have fallen from her pocket or purse earlier that day. With more than half my attention focused on the TV program, I pushed my fingers between the cushions and pulled out what I at first thought was one of her credit cards. Then, when there was a break in the action in the game, I looked more closely at the card.
And that's when my heart literally stopped.
Rather than it being a credit card I was holding, what was in my hands seemed to be a membership card, and one that was so far from my experience that I at first thought she'd placed it there just as a practical joke. Then, as my eyes focused on the title at the top, I was simply lost in a waking dream as I thought of what it implied.
The name was emblazoned across the top of the card, and it was "FLAGELLATION PLEASURES," written in a huge, bright-red font. Then, on the next line below was printed the name, "Nicole Estella ________, Advanced Flagellant."
That was all that was on the front, and nothing could have stopped me from turning it over so I could read whatever was on the back, probably hoping that it would say something like, "Surprise! Gotcha, didn't I?" However, instead of that, I saw written in smaller print the explanation, "The bearer of this card is duly authorized to enter any and all punishment sessions, and is to be obeyed in full by everyone of lesser rank. For an extended explanation, please go to our website, which can be found here: www.FlagellationPleasuresForAll.org."
Even though my body felt as if it were totally frozen in place, my brain somehow forced my hand to replace the card between the cushions, hoping my wife would have no clue I had found it. I then made myself stand and walk to our home office where the computer stood waiting to execute my slightest command. Since the machine was already booted, in a matter of seconds I had opened a web browser, typed in the address, and pressed Enter.
Given that we have a high-speed connection which Nicole uses in her home-based business, it took just a few seconds for the introductory page to load. I saw again the organization's name that was on the card, but it was soon forgotten as my eyes fell to the full-page photograph right below the title.
The only part that immediately registered on my fevered brain was the totally- naked man in the center of the photo. He was standing with his back to a stone wall, and I could see his arms were widespread at 45° angles above his body. Shackles had been placed around his wrists to hold them there, which made his body look supremely vulnerable. He was made even more vulnerable by his widespread legs, which had been pulled out and away from their normal position, before his ankles, too, had been shackled in place.
The most-exciting part of all, to my fevered eyes at least, was his huge organ. It was pointing straight out from his crotch, and seemed to be distended far beyond what could be considered as normal. The head was noticeably larger than the diameter of the shaft, which made me think he was completely aroused, and further evidence of that was the spider web of sticky fluid which was oozing from the tip of the thing.
My eyes were next drawn to his upper body, which was literally covered by livid welts from his neck to his waist. The source of those marks was evident as my eyes were drawn to the right side of the screen, where a beautiful, equally-nude woman was standing. She was holding a vicious-looking, black-leather whip that had but one thong, and which reminded me most of all of the whips we'd used on the ranch, called "blacksnakes."
The woman's whip arm was extended straight toward the imprisoned man, and seemed to be pointing directly at his distended organ. The single thong was as straight as possible, and there was no doubt at all as to her intended target.
It was only then that my mind told me there were other people, also naked, in the picture. They were standing in a group on the opposite side of the screen, with every eye fixed on the man's crotch, as if avidly awaiting the split-second when the tip of the thong found that most-sensitive part of any man's body.
Like the man and the woman, the onlookers were also nude, and their own arousal was demonstrated by the erect organs of the men and the distended state of the nipples on every breast. Most of them had a hand in the crotch of another person, undoubtedly increasing the level of arousal of all of them.
It was as my eyes were again drawn to the prisoner's organ that I saw the words below his feet, reading, "Scroll down to see the results of his flagellation."
Entirely of its own volition, my right hand turned the wheel on the mouse, and as the photograph scrolled upward, a second photo appeared. It showed the same man and woman, as well as the group of onlookers, but the difference was that the woman was bent over as if panting with exhaustion, while the man's entire crotch was covered with dozens of welts, all centered on his penis and his testicles. Many of the welts were oozing crimson droplets, and the tiny puddle on the floor beneath him said everything about what he had endured.
As for the group of watchers, about half of them were on their knees in front of the other half. I saw several men with their faces buried between the legs of standing women, and other women whose mouths were filled with distended organs. There were also two women on their knees, but instead of sucking men, they were licking other women. And, as I knew there would be, there were three men on their knees in front of other men, giving the type of oral service I had once known so well.
I don't know how long I stared at that picture before my own lust became unbearable, and entirely without thinking about it I picked up the wastebasket sitting beside the desk. Hurriedly unzipping my trousers, I pulled my own distended organ through the open fly, then masturbated into the discarded trash in the basket.
It was only then that I could return my attention to the screen, and after giving the exciting picture one last look, I clicked the button labeled, "Who We Are."
Again the page loaded almost before I had time to think about it, and then my total attention was on the words shown there. Under the heading, "Our History," I read this explanation:
Interest in flagellation as a method of sexual arousal is as old as mankind, itself. We do know that Roman orgies often featured the whipping of slaves to serve as erotic stimulation, and that several of the so-called "primitive" cultures flayed captured slaves at their public rituals, again as a stimulant.
It was in France that the practice of sexual flagellation became so widespread, and there are several accounts of women being whipped on their breasts and vaginas as onlookers engaged in intercourse of all kinds. Of course, men also received their fair share of punishment, with those parts of their bodies between their legs being the preferred targets. It is thought that the Marquis de Sade brought that practice to new heights, but there are also other accounts that credit various royal courts as responsible for instituting the practice of erotic flagellation.
There are at this time chapters of Flagellation Pleasures in 103 countries (click the link for "Member Countries" for a complete list). If you see your own country listed there, you can click it for a list of cities that have local chapters. For those of you interested in joining us, you can click the name of your city to see contact information relevant to becoming a member.
We especially encourage married couples to become members, because we have always known that whipping the one you love most can be supremely arousing. On the other hand, being whipped by your loving wife or husband can have the same effect, usually on both of you. The same effect can be present if you are in a committed relationship with your significant other. Again, whipping to completion can be the most-exciting method of foreplay you could ever imagine.
We do not reject single persons out of hand, although we do try to keep a balance of members, so none need to feel like a "fifth wheel." If you desire to join, but do not have a partner, simply check the appropriate box on the membership application, and we will do out best to match you with someone who shares your fascination with erotic whipping. Be sure to specify the gender of your desired partner, because that will assure you of being paired with someone who shares your preferences.
The link button referred to in the text was immediately below it, and entirely without thinking about it, I clicked it. After scrolling down to the words, "United States," I again clicked the mouse button. I think I already knew that the name of our city would be there, and it was, so I clicked it. The name of the contact person given there was that of Nicole's pastor, and with that confirmation, I no longer had even the slightest doubt that the membership card I'd discovered was hers, and that she was the "Advanced Flagellant." Given even my skimpy familiarity with that word, I knew with no doubt, whatsoever, that she had been, and probably was right at that moment, severely whipping a man's crotch and becoming aroused by it. And then I knew in a flash the reason she had always seemed to be so turned on when she came home from her Friday night church meetings.
It was as I finished reading that last part that I thought to look at the time display on the monitor, and was shocked to see that my wife would be returning in less than half an hour. I felt sure that if she learned I had discovered her secret, she would be very angry and I would be in trouble.
I quickly turned off the computer and hurried to the bathroom to take a quick shower and brush my teeth. That part taken care of, I ran to the bedroom, threw back the covers, and as I crawled under the sheet I heard the garage door operator raising the door as Nicole's car came up the driveway. Then, I pretended to be asleep, hoping she wouldn't think anything was out of the ordinary, and she'd initiate sexual intimacy with my "sleeping" body.
The fifteen minutes it took for her to come to bed had to be the longest of my entire life, and it was almost more than I could do to not grab my throbbing penis and give it the relief it demanded. Luckily, just as I was about to do just that, she walked through the door, then stood there backlighted by the tiny nightlight in the hallway as she began to unbutton her blouse.
Through slitted eyes I could see that she was hurrying as fast as she could to get undressed, and almost before her blouse had hit the floor, her bra was following it. Then her hands went to her waist, and I struggled to control my breathing as she pushed her slacks, along with her panties, down her legs and stepped out of them.
She then drove me totally crazy as she stood there and spread her legs, and I was sure she was looking directly at the bed as one hand found her breasts and played with them, and the other dropped to her crotch and fingered her pussy as her legs spread to their widest extent.
At last she hurried to the bed, lifted the covers, and got under them beside me. With no hesitation she grabbed the waistband of my undershorts, which had been the only thing I'd worn to bed for all my life. They were pushed down and off my feet in a split-second, and as her hands returned to my crotch, I felt her take ahold of my cock. As she squeezed it with more force than she'd ever used with me, I heard her faint but fervent whisper, "Oh, God, please help me make him want it as much as I do! Please God, help me do it to him!"
Then, apparently reaching the limit of her patience, she threw the sheet back, got up on her knees, and lifted one leg over my head, facing my crotch. She had done that many, many times in the past, but never had she been so frenzied in her movements as she was that night.
Where she normally hovered above my head for a few seconds before settling in place on my mouth, that time she immediately gave me her pussy to lick. And I did, with all my attention paid to making it good for her, and helping her find the reward she has always seemed to crave even more than I do with my own.
As she sat there on my mouth, facing my crotch, I silently uttered my own prayer, and it was something like, "Please make her suck me! If you're actually up there, God, just make her do that!"
I guess he didn't hear me, because she didn't lean over and take me in her mouth.
As my tongue took that first swipe along the length of her opening, it seemed to me that she'd never before been as wet as she was right then. Instead of being merely damp, her pussy was literally dripping with her juices. They tasted much different than ever before, too, and their consistency was much thicker. To my addled brain, though, she had never tasted better, and I licked and sucked with every bit of my strength, trying to get every delicious drop in my mouth so I could swallow it.
She had been continuously gasping for breath ever since my tongue began to probe her dripping folds, and with every swipe she mumbled something that was too faint for me to understand. That changed when she became more and more aroused, and finally I could hear her saying over and over, "Oh, God, make him eat it. Make him swallow every drop of it. Make him need it more than anything else in his life. Make him beg me to bring more to him every day so he can fill his stomach with it. Please, dear God, make him the cum slave I need."
I don't know that I truly understood the meaning of her words right then, although later I came to know what she was asking for. I do know that just hearing her pray to her God to make me love eating her pussy was making me just as hot as she seemed to be. Almost as soon as she'd whispered the final word of her prayer, I could no longer hold back, and my right hand shot out and grabbed that part of me that was demanding attention.
That was when she cried out, "Don't you dare! Don't ever again jack off without my permission. I'll show you how we're going to do it from now on."
As she almost shouted those words at me, she threw my hand to the side. The next thing I felt was her open hand slapping my erection to the side, where it was immediately slapped by her other hand and sent flying back in the opposite direction. The only thing I could possibly think of right then was the picture on the flagellation site, showing the man's erection being whipped until it bled. I wanted her to do that to me more than I can ever say, and if my mouth had been able to speak, I'd have begged her to whip me and whip me and never stop.
And then I felt her thighs clench my head in their viselike grip, and as her pussy spasmed and shot her juices into my greedy mouth, I felt my own orgasm blanking my mind. From somewhere far, far away I knew the fingers of both her hands were pinching the head of my penis pulling it in opposite directions and sending jolts of pain shooting throughout my body.
As the agony of what she was doing to me consumed my brain, my balls began to empty into the air just as her pussy was doing in my mouth, and I just lay there and sucked and swallowed, while her special taste awakened memories that I had forgot were buried so deeply in my head. Again and again I swallowed the delicious juice she was feeding me, and again and again my balls expelled the same juice all over my stomach.
Suddenly it was all over, and as Nicole collapsed beside me she was crying, and I was trying to tell her how sorry I was, even though I had no idea what I'd done wrong. At last her sobs ended, and in answer to my words she whispered, "I'm crying because it was so good, Honey. Stop trying to apologize for letting me do what I've wanted to do to you ever since our wedding night."
And then we kissed, more deeply that ever before. Then, when the kiss came to an end, she whispered in my ear, "Honey, we need to talk about something I just can't hold back any longer. Okay?"
Chapter 2
She took several deep breaths before she could continue, but finally her words began, and as I lay there trying to come to terms with what she was telling me, all I could do was mumble a reply to her occasional questions.
"When I came home, the first thing I did was to check the couch to see if you'd found the card I'd left between the cushions. I tried to leave it sticking up enough that you'd see it, but I've been afraid all evening that you wouldn't, and then I'd have to think of some other way to tell you all this.
"You'll never, ever know how happy it made me to see that it was turned the other way than I'd left it, and that told me you'd seen it there and had read it. As soon as I saw that, I ran to the computer and turned it on, and right there in the browser history was the address for the Flagellation Pleasures website, so I knew you'd been looking at it."
She paused long enough to catch her breath, then asked in her softest voice, "Did you do that, Honey?"
I'm not all that sure what my answer was, but I probably mumbled something like, "Uh-huh." Whatever I said, it must have satisfied her, because she continued with what she needed to tell me.
"I was so afraid that you'd see what I've always kept a secret, and that you wouldn't be here when I got home. You'll never, ever in a million years know what it meant to me when I walked through the bedroom door, and not only were you still here and in bed, but I could see the tent your little dick made under the sheet was the biggest ever. That told me you got all hot and bothered when you saw the guy in the picture getting what he deserved, and from that point on I never doubted that you were thinking about it when I got in bed. That's how it was, right, Honey?"
Again I probably answered with "Uh-huh," which she barely had a chance to hear before telling me even more.
"I guarantee you've never had a hardon as big as the one you had tonight when I got in bed with you. I just knew you were thinking about being cuffed to the wall like the guy on the website, and me being the one who was giving you what we both needed. I had planned to take it nice and slow with you, but once I could tell how hot you already were, I knew you were ready for what I needed to do to you, so I didn't even hesitate.
"I think God was on my side, and he helped you get all hot like that, but whatever it was, when I sat on your mouth and you started sucking all that cum out of my pussy, I knew you needed that just as much as I did. And you did, didn't you? You knew what you were eating, didn't you?"
I tried to think of some way to not humiliate myself, but when she prodded me again to answer, my hoarse whisper answered, "I knew what it was, and it made me so hungry that I just couldn't stop eating it."
She chuckled deep in her throat, then in her own hoarse whisper asked, "Could you tell it came from more than one man? Was there so much of it that you knew one man couldn't possibly have squirted that much in my pussy?"
As all my questions were answered, and all my fears were quieted, I told her, "I didn't know how many men put their cum in you, but I knew it was more than I'd ever had from just one guy."
Then it was her turn to fall silent as she digested my words, before at last asking quietly, "So, . . . so you've done that . . . before? You've eaten cum before? From more than one man? Is that what you're trying to tell me?"
By that point I had resigned myself to telling her the whole story, rather than making her pry it out of me with question after question. So, I did.
"When we were kids, my brothers used to make me suck them. It took a long time for me to get used to the taste, but when I did I used to ask them to let me have more. Then, after we'd done that for probably six months, they told me I'd have to earn it by doing whatever they said, and I promised them I would. That was the first time they took me to the grove of tree down by the pond on the ranch.
"They looked around for the tree they wanted, then when they found one with a branch sticking straight out they threw a rope over it and tied the end around my wrists. They pulled the other end of the rope until my feet were off the ground, and then cut willow switches and whipped my bottom. After their arms got tired, they let me down on my knees so I could suck them. The next day we did that again, and then the next day, too.
"When we went to the tree the fourth time, two of their friends went with us, and all four of them whipped me before they made me suck them. After that we went there every day until it got too cold, and then we'd go in the house and they'd make me undress and bend over the bed and they whip me before making me suck them again.
"So, that's how I knew other men had put their cum in your pussy tonight."
It took her a long time to at last sigh, then whisper, "Wow. And I thought I'd have to break you in for months before you'd let us cuff you to the wall, or crucify you, or hang you by your wrists so we could flagellate you all over. I think you're ready for that right now, don't you, Honey?"
There was only one possible answer, and it was my heartfelt, "Yes! Please! I've always needed that!"
She chuckled even louder then before finally saying, "Dear God! Just think of all the time we've wasted. I could have put you on the wall on our wedding night, couldn't I? You've been ready for me all this time, and it took me this long to think of something to get us started. God in Heaven, just think of all the welts and scars I could have given you over the past two years since we got married. I guess we'll just have to make up for lost time, won't we?"
At my fervent, "Yes!" she chuckled again, then said almost as an aside, "Momma always told me that I was destined to find a man who needed to be flagellated just as much as Daddy always did. I promised her that I wouldn't settle for anything less, because I've known for years there's nothing in the world hotter than listening to a man I love screaming in pain as I whip his little things until they bleed. That's what you want, isn't it, Honey?"
All I said was a whispered, "Yes," and then we kissed again and I know she was thinking just as much as I was about what we would soon be doing. Then it occurred to me to ask, "So, . . . you whipped your father? Is that what you're saying?"
That time it was her turn to whisper, "Yes," and I probed again by asking, "When did you start doing that to him?"
Her answer was, "I don't remember a time when Momma and I didn't whip him. We usually did it with him tied across the bed, which was fun enough, but the first time we took him up to the front of the church when the pastor asked for volunteers for scourging was just the high point of my life up until then. I remember how hard he was when we took off all his clothes and then tied his wrists to the cross while it was on the floor. Lots of the other members helped lift the cross up and drop it in the socket in the floor, and then we all stood around him and listened to him whimpering as his body got stretched out when gravity started working on it. God, the way his shoulders popped as his arms were pulled out of their sockets just made me so hot!
Then after he'd stretched as far as he could, we pulled his feet behind the post and tied his ankles together. The pastor helped us pull Daddy's feet way up behind the post and hook the rope over a nail there, and you wouldn't believe how that stretched his crotch open farther that I ever thought it could possibly go. Momma and I then got whips from the rack on the wall, and we started whipping him all over, and he kept getting harder and harder all the time, which meant it was time to flagellate those parts between his legs, and we really tore into them.
"If you've never heard a man screaming in agony when his little things are being flagellated, then you have no idea how hot it is to know you're the one giving him that much pain. But the best part of all is how he stayed hard for us, and how the other people laughed at him and how he was writhing on the cross as we made him suffer, and how far his cum shot when he finally emptied his balls for us. Both Momma and I were so proud of him, and I want to be proud of you, too, when it's your turn, Honey."
By then I was far beyond any semblance of sanity, and when Nicole pushed me over on my back and straddled my crotch before mounting my throbbing erection, I didn't need her impassioned, "Hurry!" to know what needed to be done. With one final thrust of my hips I emptied my balls inside her pussy, and the agony I felt from that third orgasm in the space of less than two hours was more welcome than anyone could ever imagine.
It was anti-climax, to coin a term, when Nicole then moved up to my mouth to feed my own slime to me, and in the course of time to feel her own climax. I sucked and swallowed, then did it some more, until at last she literally fell off me as she gasped, "I think you ate all of it, Honey. Next week I'll take you to the church meeting with me, and I'll feed you so much cum from the other men that your tummy will look like you're pregnant."
She was silent for so long as she lay beside me that I thought she'd fallen asleep. Then, in a dreamy voice that told me she was lost in fantasy, she asked, "How do you want us to put you up so we can flagellate you, Honey? Is there a favorite way you want for your first time?"
I had to clear my throat several times before I could utter even a single word, but as soon as it passed my lips, it seemed the dam that had contained my secret thoughts for so long at long last was breached.
"I want you to do me just like you and your mother did your father. I want to know how it feels to have my arms pulled from their sockets as my body settles on the cross. I want you to tie my ankles behind the post, then hook the rope over a nail really high behind me, so it stretches my crotch wider than it's ever been. Then I want everyone to take turns whipping my little things as hard as they can, so I can know what that feels like and everyone can laugh at the way I'm screaming. Please do that to me! I need it so bad!"
In a dreamy voice, she answered my plea, saying, "Okay, Honey. We'll do it like that for your first time. But the next time I want to hang you by your ankles with your feet so far apart you'll think your crotch is going to split wide open. Then I want everyone there to whip your little weenie and your tiny peanuts, and maybe they'll swell up so much they'll be almost normal size for a man. After that we'll . . ., well, who knows what we'll do to you next. I'll just leave it to your imagination."
Then, rolling to her tummy, she sighed as she said, "Now rub my back so I can get to sleep, Honey. I want to dream pleasant dreams about you on the cross, or tied to the wall, or hanging by your heels so all of us can give your little weenie and tiny peanuts what they deserve. Now get busy."
And I did, and less than a minute later I heard the tiny snore she's always made when she's falling asleep. After that I pulled the sheet over her, then lay there beside her in a fetal position as my entire crotch throbbed in pain. All the time, though, I knew what I was feeling right then was but a pale imitation of what I'd be feeling in just seven days.
And it was.
The End
_________________________________
Questions or comments? Please write to me at: sharon_smif@gmx.com.
Such an innocent thing; such a momentous impact on our marriage.
That sentence describes in a nutshell exactly what occurred one night, and what happened because of it. I was home alone that evening because my wife, Nicole, was attending her weekly Bible studies at a church across town. I had never been a religious sort of person, in contrast to Nicole, who had been raised in a fundamentalist religion that I often thought of as little more than a cult.
I had no interest in going with her to the Friday evening sessions and she had never minded my lack of interest. As for me, I didn't object because I quickly learned that when she returned to our home after attending Bible-study classes, she always initiated sex with me as soon as she climbed in our bed. The first couple times she did that, I resented being awakened from a deep sleep, but as most males would understand, the benefits far outweighed the drawbacks, and I soon came to look forward to those nights.
The innocent, but momentous event I referred to above started with a simple thing: After eating the meal Nicole had prepared for me before she left for church, I took my after-dinner cup of coffee to the couch in our living room, then sat there watching a basketball game.
As I sat down on the couch that evening, I saw a brightly-colored something or other wedged between the cushions, and immediately thought that whatever it was must have fallen from her pocket or purse earlier that day. With more than half my attention focused on the TV program, I pushed my fingers between the cushions and pulled out what I at first thought was one of her credit cards. Then, when there was a break in the action in the game, I looked more closely at the card.
And that's when my heart literally stopped.
Rather than it being a credit card I was holding, what was in my hands seemed to be a membership card, and one that was so far from my experience that I at first thought she'd placed it there just as a practical joke. Then, as my eyes focused on the title at the top, I was simply lost in a waking dream as I thought of what it implied.
The name was emblazoned across the top of the card, and it was "FLAGELLATION PLEASURES," written in a huge, bright-red font. Then, on the next line below was printed the name, "Nicole Estella ________, Advanced Flagellant."
That was all that was on the front, and nothing could have stopped me from turning it over so I could read whatever was on the back, probably hoping that it would say something like, "Surprise! Gotcha, didn't I?" However, instead of that, I saw written in smaller print the explanation, "The bearer of this card is duly authorized to enter any and all punishment sessions, and is to be obeyed in full by everyone of lesser rank. For an extended explanation, please go to our website, which can be found here: www.FlagellationPleasuresForAll.org."
Even though my body felt as if it were totally frozen in place, my brain somehow forced my hand to replace the card between the cushions, hoping my wife would have no clue I had found it. I then made myself stand and walk to our home office where the computer stood waiting to execute my slightest command. Since the machine was already booted, in a matter of seconds I had opened a web browser, typed in the address, and pressed Enter.
Given that we have a high-speed connection which Nicole uses in her home-based business, it took just a few seconds for the introductory page to load. I saw again the organization's name that was on the card, but it was soon forgotten as my eyes fell to the full-page photograph right below the title.
The only part that immediately registered on my fevered brain was the totally- naked man in the center of the photo. He was standing with his back to a stone wall, and I could see his arms were widespread at 45° angles above his body. Shackles had been placed around his wrists to hold them there, which made his body look supremely vulnerable. He was made even more vulnerable by his widespread legs, which had been pulled out and away from their normal position, before his ankles, too, had been shackled in place.
The most-exciting part of all, to my fevered eyes at least, was his huge organ. It was pointing straight out from his crotch, and seemed to be distended far beyond what could be considered as normal. The head was noticeably larger than the diameter of the shaft, which made me think he was completely aroused, and further evidence of that was the spider web of sticky fluid which was oozing from the tip of the thing.
My eyes were next drawn to his upper body, which was literally covered by livid welts from his neck to his waist. The source of those marks was evident as my eyes were drawn to the right side of the screen, where a beautiful, equally-nude woman was standing. She was holding a vicious-looking, black-leather whip that had but one thong, and which reminded me most of all of the whips we'd used on the ranch, called "blacksnakes."
The woman's whip arm was extended straight toward the imprisoned man, and seemed to be pointing directly at his distended organ. The single thong was as straight as possible, and there was no doubt at all as to her intended target.
It was only then that my mind told me there were other people, also naked, in the picture. They were standing in a group on the opposite side of the screen, with every eye fixed on the man's crotch, as if avidly awaiting the split-second when the tip of the thong found that most-sensitive part of any man's body.
Like the man and the woman, the onlookers were also nude, and their own arousal was demonstrated by the erect organs of the men and the distended state of the nipples on every breast. Most of them had a hand in the crotch of another person, undoubtedly increasing the level of arousal of all of them.
It was as my eyes were again drawn to the prisoner's organ that I saw the words below his feet, reading, "Scroll down to see the results of his flagellation."
Entirely of its own volition, my right hand turned the wheel on the mouse, and as the photograph scrolled upward, a second photo appeared. It showed the same man and woman, as well as the group of onlookers, but the difference was that the woman was bent over as if panting with exhaustion, while the man's entire crotch was covered with dozens of welts, all centered on his penis and his testicles. Many of the welts were oozing crimson droplets, and the tiny puddle on the floor beneath him said everything about what he had endured.
As for the group of watchers, about half of them were on their knees in front of the other half. I saw several men with their faces buried between the legs of standing women, and other women whose mouths were filled with distended organs. There were also two women on their knees, but instead of sucking men, they were licking other women. And, as I knew there would be, there were three men on their knees in front of other men, giving the type of oral service I had once known so well.
I don't know how long I stared at that picture before my own lust became unbearable, and entirely without thinking about it I picked up the wastebasket sitting beside the desk. Hurriedly unzipping my trousers, I pulled my own distended organ through the open fly, then masturbated into the discarded trash in the basket.
It was only then that I could return my attention to the screen, and after giving the exciting picture one last look, I clicked the button labeled, "Who We Are."
Again the page loaded almost before I had time to think about it, and then my total attention was on the words shown there. Under the heading, "Our History," I read this explanation:
Interest in flagellation as a method of sexual arousal is as old as mankind, itself. We do know that Roman orgies often featured the whipping of slaves to serve as erotic stimulation, and that several of the so-called "primitive" cultures flayed captured slaves at their public rituals, again as a stimulant.
It was in France that the practice of sexual flagellation became so widespread, and there are several accounts of women being whipped on their breasts and vaginas as onlookers engaged in intercourse of all kinds. Of course, men also received their fair share of punishment, with those parts of their bodies between their legs being the preferred targets. It is thought that the Marquis de Sade brought that practice to new heights, but there are also other accounts that credit various royal courts as responsible for instituting the practice of erotic flagellation.
There are at this time chapters of Flagellation Pleasures in 103 countries (click the link for "Member Countries" for a complete list). If you see your own country listed there, you can click it for a list of cities that have local chapters. For those of you interested in joining us, you can click the name of your city to see contact information relevant to becoming a member.
We especially encourage married couples to become members, because we have always known that whipping the one you love most can be supremely arousing. On the other hand, being whipped by your loving wife or husband can have the same effect, usually on both of you. The same effect can be present if you are in a committed relationship with your significant other. Again, whipping to completion can be the most-exciting method of foreplay you could ever imagine.
We do not reject single persons out of hand, although we do try to keep a balance of members, so none need to feel like a "fifth wheel." If you desire to join, but do not have a partner, simply check the appropriate box on the membership application, and we will do out best to match you with someone who shares your fascination with erotic whipping. Be sure to specify the gender of your desired partner, because that will assure you of being paired with someone who shares your preferences.
The link button referred to in the text was immediately below it, and entirely without thinking about it, I clicked it. After scrolling down to the words, "United States," I again clicked the mouse button. I think I already knew that the name of our city would be there, and it was, so I clicked it. The name of the contact person given there was that of Nicole's pastor, and with that confirmation, I no longer had even the slightest doubt that the membership card I'd discovered was hers, and that she was the "Advanced Flagellant." Given even my skimpy familiarity with that word, I knew with no doubt, whatsoever, that she had been, and probably was right at that moment, severely whipping a man's crotch and becoming aroused by it. And then I knew in a flash the reason she had always seemed to be so turned on when she came home from her Friday night church meetings.
It was as I finished reading that last part that I thought to look at the time display on the monitor, and was shocked to see that my wife would be returning in less than half an hour. I felt sure that if she learned I had discovered her secret, she would be very angry and I would be in trouble.
I quickly turned off the computer and hurried to the bathroom to take a quick shower and brush my teeth. That part taken care of, I ran to the bedroom, threw back the covers, and as I crawled under the sheet I heard the garage door operator raising the door as Nicole's car came up the driveway. Then, I pretended to be asleep, hoping she wouldn't think anything was out of the ordinary, and she'd initiate sexual intimacy with my "sleeping" body.
The fifteen minutes it took for her to come to bed had to be the longest of my entire life, and it was almost more than I could do to not grab my throbbing penis and give it the relief it demanded. Luckily, just as I was about to do just that, she walked through the door, then stood there backlighted by the tiny nightlight in the hallway as she began to unbutton her blouse.
Through slitted eyes I could see that she was hurrying as fast as she could to get undressed, and almost before her blouse had hit the floor, her bra was following it. Then her hands went to her waist, and I struggled to control my breathing as she pushed her slacks, along with her panties, down her legs and stepped out of them.
She then drove me totally crazy as she stood there and spread her legs, and I was sure she was looking directly at the bed as one hand found her breasts and played with them, and the other dropped to her crotch and fingered her pussy as her legs spread to their widest extent.
At last she hurried to the bed, lifted the covers, and got under them beside me. With no hesitation she grabbed the waistband of my undershorts, which had been the only thing I'd worn to bed for all my life. They were pushed down and off my feet in a split-second, and as her hands returned to my crotch, I felt her take ahold of my cock. As she squeezed it with more force than she'd ever used with me, I heard her faint but fervent whisper, "Oh, God, please help me make him want it as much as I do! Please God, help me do it to him!"
Then, apparently reaching the limit of her patience, she threw the sheet back, got up on her knees, and lifted one leg over my head, facing my crotch. She had done that many, many times in the past, but never had she been so frenzied in her movements as she was that night.
Where she normally hovered above my head for a few seconds before settling in place on my mouth, that time she immediately gave me her pussy to lick. And I did, with all my attention paid to making it good for her, and helping her find the reward she has always seemed to crave even more than I do with my own.
As she sat there on my mouth, facing my crotch, I silently uttered my own prayer, and it was something like, "Please make her suck me! If you're actually up there, God, just make her do that!"
I guess he didn't hear me, because she didn't lean over and take me in her mouth.
As my tongue took that first swipe along the length of her opening, it seemed to me that she'd never before been as wet as she was right then. Instead of being merely damp, her pussy was literally dripping with her juices. They tasted much different than ever before, too, and their consistency was much thicker. To my addled brain, though, she had never tasted better, and I licked and sucked with every bit of my strength, trying to get every delicious drop in my mouth so I could swallow it.
She had been continuously gasping for breath ever since my tongue began to probe her dripping folds, and with every swipe she mumbled something that was too faint for me to understand. That changed when she became more and more aroused, and finally I could hear her saying over and over, "Oh, God, make him eat it. Make him swallow every drop of it. Make him need it more than anything else in his life. Make him beg me to bring more to him every day so he can fill his stomach with it. Please, dear God, make him the cum slave I need."
I don't know that I truly understood the meaning of her words right then, although later I came to know what she was asking for. I do know that just hearing her pray to her God to make me love eating her pussy was making me just as hot as she seemed to be. Almost as soon as she'd whispered the final word of her prayer, I could no longer hold back, and my right hand shot out and grabbed that part of me that was demanding attention.
That was when she cried out, "Don't you dare! Don't ever again jack off without my permission. I'll show you how we're going to do it from now on."
As she almost shouted those words at me, she threw my hand to the side. The next thing I felt was her open hand slapping my erection to the side, where it was immediately slapped by her other hand and sent flying back in the opposite direction. The only thing I could possibly think of right then was the picture on the flagellation site, showing the man's erection being whipped until it bled. I wanted her to do that to me more than I can ever say, and if my mouth had been able to speak, I'd have begged her to whip me and whip me and never stop.
And then I felt her thighs clench my head in their viselike grip, and as her pussy spasmed and shot her juices into my greedy mouth, I felt my own orgasm blanking my mind. From somewhere far, far away I knew the fingers of both her hands were pinching the head of my penis pulling it in opposite directions and sending jolts of pain shooting throughout my body.
As the agony of what she was doing to me consumed my brain, my balls began to empty into the air just as her pussy was doing in my mouth, and I just lay there and sucked and swallowed, while her special taste awakened memories that I had forgot were buried so deeply in my head. Again and again I swallowed the delicious juice she was feeding me, and again and again my balls expelled the same juice all over my stomach.
Suddenly it was all over, and as Nicole collapsed beside me she was crying, and I was trying to tell her how sorry I was, even though I had no idea what I'd done wrong. At last her sobs ended, and in answer to my words she whispered, "I'm crying because it was so good, Honey. Stop trying to apologize for letting me do what I've wanted to do to you ever since our wedding night."
And then we kissed, more deeply that ever before. Then, when the kiss came to an end, she whispered in my ear, "Honey, we need to talk about something I just can't hold back any longer. Okay?"
Chapter 2
She took several deep breaths before she could continue, but finally her words began, and as I lay there trying to come to terms with what she was telling me, all I could do was mumble a reply to her occasional questions.
"When I came home, the first thing I did was to check the couch to see if you'd found the card I'd left between the cushions. I tried to leave it sticking up enough that you'd see it, but I've been afraid all evening that you wouldn't, and then I'd have to think of some other way to tell you all this.
"You'll never, ever know how happy it made me to see that it was turned the other way than I'd left it, and that told me you'd seen it there and had read it. As soon as I saw that, I ran to the computer and turned it on, and right there in the browser history was the address for the Flagellation Pleasures website, so I knew you'd been looking at it."
She paused long enough to catch her breath, then asked in her softest voice, "Did you do that, Honey?"
I'm not all that sure what my answer was, but I probably mumbled something like, "Uh-huh." Whatever I said, it must have satisfied her, because she continued with what she needed to tell me.
"I was so afraid that you'd see what I've always kept a secret, and that you wouldn't be here when I got home. You'll never, ever in a million years know what it meant to me when I walked through the bedroom door, and not only were you still here and in bed, but I could see the tent your little dick made under the sheet was the biggest ever. That told me you got all hot and bothered when you saw the guy in the picture getting what he deserved, and from that point on I never doubted that you were thinking about it when I got in bed. That's how it was, right, Honey?"
Again I probably answered with "Uh-huh," which she barely had a chance to hear before telling me even more.
"I guarantee you've never had a hardon as big as the one you had tonight when I got in bed with you. I just knew you were thinking about being cuffed to the wall like the guy on the website, and me being the one who was giving you what we both needed. I had planned to take it nice and slow with you, but once I could tell how hot you already were, I knew you were ready for what I needed to do to you, so I didn't even hesitate.
"I think God was on my side, and he helped you get all hot like that, but whatever it was, when I sat on your mouth and you started sucking all that cum out of my pussy, I knew you needed that just as much as I did. And you did, didn't you? You knew what you were eating, didn't you?"
I tried to think of some way to not humiliate myself, but when she prodded me again to answer, my hoarse whisper answered, "I knew what it was, and it made me so hungry that I just couldn't stop eating it."
She chuckled deep in her throat, then in her own hoarse whisper asked, "Could you tell it came from more than one man? Was there so much of it that you knew one man couldn't possibly have squirted that much in my pussy?"
As all my questions were answered, and all my fears were quieted, I told her, "I didn't know how many men put their cum in you, but I knew it was more than I'd ever had from just one guy."
Then it was her turn to fall silent as she digested my words, before at last asking quietly, "So, . . . so you've done that . . . before? You've eaten cum before? From more than one man? Is that what you're trying to tell me?"
By that point I had resigned myself to telling her the whole story, rather than making her pry it out of me with question after question. So, I did.
"When we were kids, my brothers used to make me suck them. It took a long time for me to get used to the taste, but when I did I used to ask them to let me have more. Then, after we'd done that for probably six months, they told me I'd have to earn it by doing whatever they said, and I promised them I would. That was the first time they took me to the grove of tree down by the pond on the ranch.
"They looked around for the tree they wanted, then when they found one with a branch sticking straight out they threw a rope over it and tied the end around my wrists. They pulled the other end of the rope until my feet were off the ground, and then cut willow switches and whipped my bottom. After their arms got tired, they let me down on my knees so I could suck them. The next day we did that again, and then the next day, too.
"When we went to the tree the fourth time, two of their friends went with us, and all four of them whipped me before they made me suck them. After that we went there every day until it got too cold, and then we'd go in the house and they'd make me undress and bend over the bed and they whip me before making me suck them again.
"So, that's how I knew other men had put their cum in your pussy tonight."
It took her a long time to at last sigh, then whisper, "Wow. And I thought I'd have to break you in for months before you'd let us cuff you to the wall, or crucify you, or hang you by your wrists so we could flagellate you all over. I think you're ready for that right now, don't you, Honey?"
There was only one possible answer, and it was my heartfelt, "Yes! Please! I've always needed that!"
She chuckled even louder then before finally saying, "Dear God! Just think of all the time we've wasted. I could have put you on the wall on our wedding night, couldn't I? You've been ready for me all this time, and it took me this long to think of something to get us started. God in Heaven, just think of all the welts and scars I could have given you over the past two years since we got married. I guess we'll just have to make up for lost time, won't we?"
At my fervent, "Yes!" she chuckled again, then said almost as an aside, "Momma always told me that I was destined to find a man who needed to be flagellated just as much as Daddy always did. I promised her that I wouldn't settle for anything less, because I've known for years there's nothing in the world hotter than listening to a man I love screaming in pain as I whip his little things until they bleed. That's what you want, isn't it, Honey?"
All I said was a whispered, "Yes," and then we kissed again and I know she was thinking just as much as I was about what we would soon be doing. Then it occurred to me to ask, "So, . . . you whipped your father? Is that what you're saying?"
That time it was her turn to whisper, "Yes," and I probed again by asking, "When did you start doing that to him?"
Her answer was, "I don't remember a time when Momma and I didn't whip him. We usually did it with him tied across the bed, which was fun enough, but the first time we took him up to the front of the church when the pastor asked for volunteers for scourging was just the high point of my life up until then. I remember how hard he was when we took off all his clothes and then tied his wrists to the cross while it was on the floor. Lots of the other members helped lift the cross up and drop it in the socket in the floor, and then we all stood around him and listened to him whimpering as his body got stretched out when gravity started working on it. God, the way his shoulders popped as his arms were pulled out of their sockets just made me so hot!
Then after he'd stretched as far as he could, we pulled his feet behind the post and tied his ankles together. The pastor helped us pull Daddy's feet way up behind the post and hook the rope over a nail there, and you wouldn't believe how that stretched his crotch open farther that I ever thought it could possibly go. Momma and I then got whips from the rack on the wall, and we started whipping him all over, and he kept getting harder and harder all the time, which meant it was time to flagellate those parts between his legs, and we really tore into them.
"If you've never heard a man screaming in agony when his little things are being flagellated, then you have no idea how hot it is to know you're the one giving him that much pain. But the best part of all is how he stayed hard for us, and how the other people laughed at him and how he was writhing on the cross as we made him suffer, and how far his cum shot when he finally emptied his balls for us. Both Momma and I were so proud of him, and I want to be proud of you, too, when it's your turn, Honey."
By then I was far beyond any semblance of sanity, and when Nicole pushed me over on my back and straddled my crotch before mounting my throbbing erection, I didn't need her impassioned, "Hurry!" to know what needed to be done. With one final thrust of my hips I emptied my balls inside her pussy, and the agony I felt from that third orgasm in the space of less than two hours was more welcome than anyone could ever imagine.
It was anti-climax, to coin a term, when Nicole then moved up to my mouth to feed my own slime to me, and in the course of time to feel her own climax. I sucked and swallowed, then did it some more, until at last she literally fell off me as she gasped, "I think you ate all of it, Honey. Next week I'll take you to the church meeting with me, and I'll feed you so much cum from the other men that your tummy will look like you're pregnant."
She was silent for so long as she lay beside me that I thought she'd fallen asleep. Then, in a dreamy voice that told me she was lost in fantasy, she asked, "How do you want us to put you up so we can flagellate you, Honey? Is there a favorite way you want for your first time?"
I had to clear my throat several times before I could utter even a single word, but as soon as it passed my lips, it seemed the dam that had contained my secret thoughts for so long at long last was breached.
"I want you to do me just like you and your mother did your father. I want to know how it feels to have my arms pulled from their sockets as my body settles on the cross. I want you to tie my ankles behind the post, then hook the rope over a nail really high behind me, so it stretches my crotch wider than it's ever been. Then I want everyone to take turns whipping my little things as hard as they can, so I can know what that feels like and everyone can laugh at the way I'm screaming. Please do that to me! I need it so bad!"
In a dreamy voice, she answered my plea, saying, "Okay, Honey. We'll do it like that for your first time. But the next time I want to hang you by your ankles with your feet so far apart you'll think your crotch is going to split wide open. Then I want everyone there to whip your little weenie and your tiny peanuts, and maybe they'll swell up so much they'll be almost normal size for a man. After that we'll . . ., well, who knows what we'll do to you next. I'll just leave it to your imagination."
Then, rolling to her tummy, she sighed as she said, "Now rub my back so I can get to sleep, Honey. I want to dream pleasant dreams about you on the cross, or tied to the wall, or hanging by your heels so all of us can give your little weenie and tiny peanuts what they deserve. Now get busy."
And I did, and less than a minute later I heard the tiny snore she's always made when she's falling asleep. After that I pulled the sheet over her, then lay there beside her in a fetal position as my entire crotch throbbed in pain. All the time, though, I knew what I was feeling right then was but a pale imitation of what I'd be feeling in just seven days.
And it was.
The End
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Questions or comments? Please write to me at: sharon_smif@gmx.com.
