MOTHER
KNOWS BEST |
by
Ed Nick |
The following story may not be for everybody
because it entails brutal female domination and
humiliation. However, it is a story that some will
find useful and educational, and perhaps even titillating.
It is a story that explains in graphic detail the
methods I used to train my daughter to take her
proper place in the world as a member of the dominant
species and the methods I used to break and emasculate
my own son. The real beauty of my story is the intermeshing
of the two processes and the innovative use of my
son, and his father, as a training tool for my daughter.
While to some, my treatment of the males in my life
may seem cruel, particularly the physical and mental
abuse heaped upon my son, I prefer to consider it
an act of kindness.
I think it is better that my son learned
his proper place in life under my tutelage, than
under some woman who doesn’t really care for him.
This is borne out by the caring and nurturing relationship
he has with his current wife. While to some his
prancing around in female garb may seem garish,
his obsessive obsequiousness may appear unnatural,
and the physical abuse he suffers so willingly may
make others squirm, he accepts it and welcomes it
as the natural order of things. He not only accepts
his wife’s natural superiority, he still loves serving
me and his sister. In addition to his normal household
chores, his wife has graciously allowed us to still
use him for house cleaning and menial tasks. Also
we still indulge in the physical beatings we loved
so much during his youth. In fact I pride myself
on my ability to still beat him to a pulp in a fair
fight although he now outweighs me by 70 pounds,
but I am jumping ahead of myself. Let me first introduce
myself and my family, and tell you our story, and
you can judge for yourself whether I did the right
thing.
As you can probably tell by now, I am a
lifelong practitioner of female superiority. Since
I was a child, I loved beating up males. In high
school I was the first girl to compete on our wrestling
team and the first ever in state history to win
a state title. I was also the first girl, and one
of the few individuals, to ever be disqualified
from competition for excessive brutality. Winning
was never enough for me, I had to seriously hurt
my opponent and humiliate him, and in one match
I went a bit too far and broke my opponent’s back
with an illegal flip. In college and later years,
when I could no longer compete in wrestling, I had
to satisfy myself with beating up men in the occasional,
unauthorized wrestling, karate, or boxing match
or better yet a fight that I was able to provoke
at a party, social gathering, or on a date.
By now you are probably thinking I am some
butch dyke that is as attractive as a football lineman,
but you would be seriously wrong. In actuality I
have been blessed with great beauty and a voluptuous
body. At 5’9” tall and 130 lbs, I could pass for
a beauty queen. However, underneath that sexy veneer
are muscles that have been toned by daily workouts
and fighting skills learned in hours of wrestling,
karate, and boxing classes. It is my beauty and
sensuality that causes men to underestimate me and
relax when we first tussle, but they quickly and
painfully learn the error of their ways. To my great
pleasure, it is also my overwhelming femininity
that makes the humiliation of losing to me so unbearable
and debilitating, and believe me I do use my sexuality
to rub men’s noses in their painful defeat. A favorite
tactic of mine after beating a man into submission
is to either sit on his chest or to stand above
him, resting my foot on his face or testicles, while
I carefully adjust my makeup or fluff my hair like
a helpless bimbo. After a particularly good tussle,
I also like to pin their arms underneath my legs,
crushing their heads between my thighs, while tweaking
their nose, twisting their ears, and taunting them
with verbal humiliation.
Beating men up was enough to please me
for a few years. Seeing their blood, watching them
suffer, and on occasion making them cry was a real
turn-on. By my later years in college, though, I
sought something more. I achieved this with Henry,
my first real slave. Henry was silly enough to not
only challenge me to a fight during a date, but
he was so cocksure of himself, he said if he lost
he would be my servant for the weekend. Needless
to say I beat him handily, and when he tried to
back out of his promise to be my servant, I beat
him some more. In order to teach him a real lesson,
I also made him strip and told him he would remain
naked the whole weekend. I subsequently used him
and abused him beyond his wildest imagination. He
waited on me hand and foot, cleaned my apartment
till it was spotless, cooked for me, washed dishes,
and even gave me baths. I loved every moment of
it and was instantly hooked on having men serve
me for the rest of my life.
Henry also brought out even more of my
sadistic side and taught me how much fun it is to
punish males like children. It started unexpectedly
when he began balking at the increasing demands
I was placing upon him as a servant. On impulse,
I dragged him over my knee and started giving him
a bare handed spanking. As I spanked him and saw
his ass change colors, I became sexually excited
and lost control. I began spanking him harder and
more rapidly, and could not stop myself until I
had completely expended all my energy. By that time,
Henry’s ass was swollen and bruised unmercifully
and he was blubbering like a baby. We had now firmly
defined our relationship and Henry never again challenged
my authority that weekend. However, for poor Henry,
I had now also found new ways to reach ecstasy.
For the rest of that weekend nothing poor Henry
did was right. I found fault with everything and
found reasons to punish him with every possible
household implement I could find. I beat him with
belts and hairbrushes, I pummeled him with my hands
and feet, and I humiliated him beyond belief. By
the end of that weekend Henry belonged to me, body
and soul, and I never did housework again. He moved
in and became my slave.
The next major turning point of my life
was Bruce, but before then, the remainder of my
college years was spent with various men who did
everything I commanded, but still suffered my penchant
for watching men cry, blubber, and grovel in fear.
Bruce taught me how to take my belief in female
domination to its ultimate. Until Bruce, I still
indulged in normal sexual relations with my male
slaves, albeit I commanded when and how they would
satisfy me. Their penises belonged to me and I used
them for my pleasure. Quite often we would fuck
until their penises were rubbed raw, but they dared
not complain, or worse yet be unable to perform.
Typically I was on top and frequently punctuated
our sex with a steady staccato of slaps to their
face, rising to a crescendo as I reached orgasm.
I never wanted them to forget who was in charge
and by punishing them as we fucked I made sure sex
was not a treat for my slaves. Poor unfortunate
Bruce, however, was my first male victim to be literally
fucked by me, but the dumb fuck brought it upon
himself..
Bruce was my first boyfriend after college.
By then I had vowed to cutback on my extracurricular
activities and wanted to establish a normal relationship
with a man. At 6’4” tall and 250 lbs, Bruce seemed
to be a real man who could at least be someone I
could respect, rather than the sniveling slobs I
had so easily dominated. However, he blew it, and
in so doing, taught me that being on top, ruling
men was my true calling in life. I seriously tried
going straight on our first few dates with Bruce,
but then his true male pig nature surfaced and both
of us would never be the same again. We had gone
back to my apartment after a date, when he made
the mistake of pulling out a huge dildo and saying
he wanted to add a little spice to our lovemaking,
he wanted me to suck it while he fucked me in the
ass. His sickness and audacity sent me ballistic
and I ordered him out of my apartment. Being the
macho pig that he was, though, he refused, called
me a bitch, slapped me and knocked me flat on my
ass. The rest as they say is history.
I vowed then and there never to let a man
do that to me again, and to give Bruce a lesson
he would never forget. Without ever taking off my
high heels or getting out of my skin tight, sexy
dress, I got up and proceeded to wipe the floor
with that dumb asshole. He never knew what hit him
and never so much as laid a hand on me as I beat
the living shit out of him. Using every ounce of
my strength, I punched him and pummeled him into
submission. Wanting him to know he was totally outclassed,
I never pursued my advantage or used any fancy judo
flips to subdue him. I would knock him down with
devastating punches, let him get up, and knock him
down again. I punished him unmercifully, I beat
him without missing a beat, until he was begging
for mercy and crying for me to stop. However, I
just dragged him to his feet and beat him some more.
Finally, he tried crawling away from me and I started
kicking him and verbally abusing his manhood. It
was an unreal scene. Here was this strapping Goliath
of a man crawling around the room, bawling like
a baby, while a woman half his size prodded him
with kicks to his ass and taunted him.
I finally, again, dragged him to his feet
pushed him against the wall, and while keeping him
upright with one hand clenching his collar, I bitch
slapped him until he was almost unconscious. By
now he was offering no resistance and I could do
anything I wanted to him. Without thinking, and
acting instinctively, I let him drop to the floor
in a crumpled heap and using my feet, prodded him,
and placed him on his back. I then straddled his
head and pissed on his face as he trembled in fear
and utter humiliation. Letting him lie in my urine,
fearfully wondering what I would do next, I took
the dildo he had brought with him and strapped it
around my hips. His eyes now widened in terrifying
anticipation as I bent over him, unstrapped his
belt, pulled his pants down, flipped him over on
his stomach, and as you have probably guessed, fucked
him with his own dildo, over and over and over again
till he passed out in pain, shame, and humilaition.
In what I later attribute to divine inspiration,
I decided then and there to complete Bruce’s transformation
and make him my sissy whore. I hogtied Bruce so
he would not be able to escape and went out to do
some shopping. By the time I was finished, I had
bought my sissy whore a whole new wardrobe. I had
not only bought some beautiful dresses, but I also
bought some sexy lingerie, garish makeup, high heels,
and earrings. When I returned we began Brucie’s
transformation. As you might have guessed I had
to offer a little encouragement, but poor little
Brucie eventually was shorn of all body hair and
dressed to kill in his French whore outfit. At 6’4”
and in high heels he towered over me, but after
some severe spankings, some particularly excruciating
cock and ball torture, and some additional fucking
followed by him sucking the dildo clean, he was
very accommodating and eager to please. My little
Brucie was just adorable and oh so sexy and fuckable.
I had planned to keep Bruce around for
just a few days, just for kicks, and to teach him
a really good lesson but I realized I was a female
dominant who could never give in to a man and would
never change. I needed a male slave in constant
attendance to satisfy my sexual urges. Furthermore,
I really enjoyed having a sissy whore serving me
and having a virgin ass to fuck whenever I wanted,
although by now his ass was as big as a Mack truck
and rubbed raw from my constant care and attention.
I don’t know if Brucie liked being my whore as much
as I loved abusing him, but who cares. All I know
is that I proposed to Brucie and offered to make
our arrangements permanent and he eagerly accepted.
Of course he may not have been in a position to
disagree because I proposed while he was sucking
a dildo and I was humping his ass. This seemed to
be poetic justice, since it was the same position
he had originally planned for us, except with him
doing the humping. In any event, we married and
had children, finally bringing us to the loving
indoctrination and education of our son and daughter.
After having children, I decided to hide
our true relationship from our children till they
were old enough to understand it better. Accordingly,
Brucie was allowed to don his male clothes around
them and to go forth in the world as a man. However,
in private he wore his female garb and I continued
to beat and fuck him unmercifully. In public and
around our children, though I tried not to be too
demanding and demeaning, his subservience to me
was clear. On occasion I slapped him and abused
him in public, but the real punishment came later.
Additionally his never-ending bruises and fear of
me were there for all to see, though few saw my
Brucie as a sissy whore or knew the extent of our
relationship.
Our children were carbon copies of us.
Karen our daughter was a beautiful girl, who from
her days as a toddler was sent to the gym and toughened
up like dear old mom.. I taught her everything I
knew, but warned her to keep her fighting abilities
secret till she was older and the time was right.
Richie our son was two years older and like his
father before him grew into a strapping teenager,
who developed a macho attitude towards his girlfriends
and the world in general. He saw his father as an
embarrassment because it was obvious who ruled in
our household, but I let him develop as a pig knowing
that he would eventually learn the ways of the world
from his sister. Richie seemed to be an outsider
in our family from the very beginning as Karen and
me developed close bonds and she quickly and easily
learned that she could boss her dad and order him
around. Richie even started giving his sister a
hard time and it was all I could do to keep her
from attacking him before we were ready to teach
him how to be like his old man.
At the age of 13, I was ready to teach
Karen how to be a woman, although Richie’s rude
awakening would come later. We started with some
frank discussions as I slowly revealed to her my
past experiences. I then swore her to secrecy and
started to slowly reveal my true relationship with
her father, most of which I found out wasn’t a complete
surprise to her. As I mentioned previously his bruises
and obsequious behavior were there for all to see
and she assumed I was beating her dad up. When I
thought she was ready, I then brought her into our
inner sanctum. We started slowly with Karen being
allowed to give commands to her dad, while he responded
as the slave that he had become. Initially we played
harmless games as she used him as a dog to play
fetch and as a servant performing simple tasks for
her. I then had her punish her dad for simple violations
and she took to it like a fish to water. She quickly
went from simple face slappings, delivered with
no reluctance whatsoever, to spankings and severe
beatings with a belt, cane, and switches. Poor old
Brucie actually almost dreaded her beatings as much
as mine.
Eventually, just as with my own learning
process, I finally introduced her to Brucie as a
sissy whore. Initially the shock of seeing her dad
as a woman caught her offguard. After all Karen
was still at that time only a 13 year old and although
the pleasure of beating her dad up was something
she could relate to, the sexual implications of
the role reversals was something new for her. However,
much like the physical beatings, she quickly adapted
to using her dad as a whore. I still remember my
motherly pride the first time she strapped on a
dildo and fucked her dad in the ass just like she
had been doing it all her short life. She measured
her pelvic thrusts perfectly with Brucie’s moans
and without any encouragement from me rocked backed
and forth in perfect harmony with Brucie as he rhythmically
pushed his ass back on her dildo begging for more.
When he finally ejaculated as he learned to do from
our many sessions together, Karen made him suck
up his own cum, and then went mom one better by
taking her dildo and beating Brucie about his head
and shoulders until his face was black and blue.
Although Karen was probably ready to teach
her brother the facts of life, I convinced her to
wait till her 14th birthday while she gained some
more experience with her father. For the next few
months she made Brucie’s life a living hell while
she waited impatiently to kick the shit out of her
brother. Rather than waiting for me to conduct joint
sessions with dad, she abused him by herself whenever
she had the opportunity. She practiced her punches,
kicks, wrestling holds, and flips on poor old Brucie
till she could beat him in a fair fight. When she
was tired of the beatings, she had dad wait on her
like a personal maid. At night we double teamed
Brucie as we raped him endlessly and used him as
our sex slave. I introduced her to having her pussy
eaten and her anus licked, by dear old dad. All
the time we scripted when and how Karen would introduce
her brother to his new world and he would become
her personal slave. Something Brucie was looking
forward to as much as Karen because he was being
pushed to the limit and he was hoping Karen would
have someone other than himself to abuse.
Finally, judgement day came. Karen hit
her 14th birthday and Richie was 16 and becoming
almost unbearable. The day began with the entire
family at the breakfast table and Karen in a dress,
heels, and panty hose. As previously planned, I
ordered Brucie to get on his knees and kiss my feet,
which he immediately did with gusto. Richie obviously
was astounded and sickened by this and called his
dad a pussy-whipped embarrassment. He was even more
dumbfounded when his sister ordered her dad to kiss
her feet also and he complied by crawling to her
chair. When she then grabbed Brucie by his hair,
pulled him up, locking his head between her thighs
and draping her legs over his shoulders, and began
to bitch slap him, Richie almost fell off his chair
in amazement. As she beat her father, she called
him a sorry excuse for a man and a lousy foot sucker.
With Richie looking on in dumbfounded bewilderment
, Karen then released her leg scissors and stood
up. She then pulled her dad to his feet and grabbing
his shirt with one hand began pounding him with
short, sharp punches to his face. As he tried to
cover up, Karen kneed him in the stomach, bringing
him to his knees. She then allowed him to crawl
back to me, where he began kissing my feet once
again. Turning ominously to her brother, she then
ordered him to kiss her feet.
Needless to say, he responded with a string
of expletives and threatened to kick her ass. I
calmly told her to teach her brother a lesson and
beat the living shit out of him. The next hour was
a sight to behold and a thing of beauty for a proud
mother. Karen responded deliberately and took her
time tearing her brother apart piece by piece. It
started with my dumb, foolish son strutting over
to Karen and in macho bravado saying take your best
shot. Rather than ending the fight with one punch,
she calmly took his wrist and bent it back painfully
using just her one hand. This brought him to his
knees in excruciating pain. Holding his wrist back,
and keeping him immobilized, she then told him to
come up swinging and give her a little challenge.
Letting his wrist go, she then gave him a hard slap
to his face knocking him to the ground. Stepping
back a few feet, she then taunted him to get up
and fight, beckoning him to come on with her fingers,
while moving her dress up on her thighs to give
her legs more room to work.
It was then that the mauling truly began.
Karen easily sidestepped his first few feeble bull
rushes by putting her leg out and using his own
momentum to trip him and throw him to the ground
each time. After several throws to the ground, he
then approached her more slowly, but she began to
pepper his head with jabs and taunting slaps as
she easily avoided his wild and looping punches.
This served more to infuriate him than to hurt him.
Karen teased him like this for several minutes,
but finally tiring from the lack of competition,
she decided to get serious. She began kicking him
repeatedly in the sides with a series of kicks intended
to weaken and punish him, punctuating the sequel
with a drop kick to the solar plexus that flattened
him and put him on the floor gasping for air. Allowing
him time to recover, he finally got to his feet
only to be flattened and knocked to the floor again
by a series of punches to the midsection.
Karen continued to beat him slowly and
deliberately for almost an hour, painting a beautiful
mosaic of bruises all over Richie’s body. Her punches
brought welts and bruises to every square inch of
his face, while her punches and kicks covered his
body in a similar canvas of colors. It was also
evident each time he got up, he got up with less
and less bravado, not believing his younger sister,
who was 5 inches shorter and 60 lbs lighter could
be doing this to him. To add to his humiliation
she was wearing a dress, heels, and panty hose as
if going to a cotillion, and looked as fragile as
a wallflower. I was loving every moment of it, while
poor old Brucie could only moan in sorrow as his
son was being reduced to the same lowly state he
already occupied. Karen gave no mercy and asked
for no surrender, as she continued her assault.
Richie eventually begged her to stop, but she ignored
his whimpers
When Richie could get up no more or didn’t
want to get up, she picked him up and knocked him
down again. When she tired of picking him up, she
kicked and stomped him as he lay at her feet in
agony. When she tired of kicking him, she took off
her shoes and rubbed her stockinged feet in his
face in derision and to inflict as much humiliation
as possible. When she tired of this, she kneeled
over his face, opened his mouth and pissed in it
with nary a complaint from him. When she emptied
her bladder, she ripped his clothes off, threw them
away, turned him over on his stomach, strapped on
a dildo she had concealed on the table, and proceeded
to fuck him in the ass, while Richie could only
yell in agony. When she tired of fucking him, she
took off her dildo and left it in his ass.
By now even Karen needed a rest, so she
left poor Richie lying on the floor in a puddle
of her urine, while she sat down to admire her handiwork.
He was sobbing and whimpering unconsolably. She
then calmly, but in a threatening manner, explained
to Richie his new role in our household as her slave
and plaything. In graphic detail she explained how
she was going to make his life a living hell and
how he was going to be transformed into her sissy
whore. Finally he crawled over to me and begged
me to help him and protect him from his sister.
At this point I stood up and pulled up my dress
to reveal a huge dildo I had been wearing the entire
time. Grabbing his hair, I pulled his face forward
and roughly thrust my dildo in his mouth and said
“Suck my cock scumbag. You are about to learn what
it means to be a male.” And so poor Richie’s education
began in earnest. For the rest of that day, his
sister and I took turns raping him and abusing him,
showing him no mercy.
As I look back now, those early days in
which Karen blossomed into a full blown dominant
woman bring back my fondest memories and give rise
to a motherly pride I will always cherish. She had
taken the lessons learned from months of working
with me, and to give him his due, lessons using
her father. Brucie suffered her first attempts at
female domination like the true slave he had become.
For example, Karen’s first attempts at punishment
were sometimes more excessive than necessary and
caused debilitating injuries much too quickly. She
had to learn to take it more slowly so that her
victim could last longer and suffer more. One may
say Brucie had no choice but to take it, and that
is true, but he never flinched and never complained.
Karen also had to learn the fine art of psychological
emasculation and how to strip a male of his ego
in the most devastating manner possible. Again,
sometimes Karen erred on the side of excess, but
she eventually learned patience and style, and by
the time I unleashed her on her brother she had
her father fearing her for her own abilities, rather
than because of her status as my daughter.
After her initial dismantling of her brother,
she essentially took over his training and I had
very little to do other than enjoy the fruits of
her labor. For example, that first morning after
poor Richie’s deflowering she already had him eating
out of her hand and scared to death of her. I can
still remember Richie kneeling at her feet in fear
while she calmly ate her breakfast, waiting for
the scraps she threw him, and eating them off the
floor like the dog he had become. For the rest of
that day he followed her on his hands and knees
everywhere she went, waiting for her commands, and
suffering her reprisals for every response that
wasn’t quick enough, eager enough, or good enough.
She played mind games with him, at times having
him playing dead and rolling over like a dog, to
waiting on her like a maid and hand servant, to
cleaning house like a lowly cleaning woman, and
finally to eating and drinking her bodily wastes
just for the fun of it.
After basically bruising almost square
inch of his body and face the previous day, her
punishment the second day was concentrated on his
cock and balls, ass, and anus. Her punishment typically
consisted of spankings and penis whipping and slapping.
These bouts of punishment were particularly painful
because for most of the day he was forced to either
masturbate endlessly, ejaculating over and over,
and eating every last bit of cum after each ejaculation,
or fucking himself with a dildo he either had in
his ass or carried in his mouth like a bone. As
a result, his penis was rubbed painfully raw and
his anus was bleeding like a young virgin whore.
Needless to say, by the end of his second day in
purgatory, Richie was broken in every sense of the
word.
However, we were not done with his initial
indoctrination. That night and for most of the next
day he was tied up and left in a bathtub to soak
in our urine and shit as both Karen and I used him
as our toilet. We even had his own father cum over
him as we took turns fucking Brucie while we stood
over and straddled Richie’s thoroughly beaten life
form. This gave him time to think about his plight
and for the reality and fear of his transformation
to sink in. Everytime I looked in on him, he was
whimpering and trembling in horror and dread, begging
to be let free. After considerable time to get his
mind right, I freed him from his bondage and ordered
him to clean and to present himself for extensive
training on how to be a proper young lady. Countering
the cruelty shown him by his sister, I spent the
next few days teaching him how to dress like a woman,
how to apply his own makeup, how to walk and sit
like a female, and how to be ladylike in every way.
Of course we shaved his body of all that nasty male
hair that he would make a more natural lady.
When I next presented him to his little
sister, poor Richie was for all extensive purposes
a castrated she-male with no male dignity left whatsover.
While it is hard to say I felt motherly pride, like
I felt in Karen’s case, because after all he was
a boy, I did feel a sense of satisfaction that he
had been properly indoctrinated and transformed
into a sissy whore befitting his lowly male status.
As he cowered and flinched each time Karen raised
her voice or raised her hand, my heart fluttered
in joy and pride. Richie was Richie no more, I loved
him for what he had become and I looked forward
to having another male in the house to use and abuse.
As my strapping young man walked daintily in his
high heels, curtsied when given orders, and did
all he could to please me and Karen I could only
admire my handiwork.
Richie’s education would painfully continue,
but after his initial indoctrination he offered
little resistance and readily adapted to his new
role. Like his dad we let him go outside the house
in male clothes and continue to attend school, but
at home he left his male clothes at the door and
became Edwina. One of his first lessons was to learn
that not only his little sister, but his mom could
kick his ass in a fair fight. After he had time
to recover from the vicious beating his sister had
given him, I challenged him to the first of what
would be a continuing cycle of boxing matches. By
now I had beaten his father so many times in fights
it was hardly fun anymore and I was looking for
new meat. Accordingly, we put on the gloves and
duked it out. At first he was so intimidated and
cowed by his transformation that he was afraid to
throw a punch, but he finally was willing to mix
it up, and for an old broad I must say I surprised
even myself. If we were keeping score it would have
been a shutout. I beat him masterfully and brutally.
By the time we finished I had given him a black
eye and multiple welts that covered his face, while
I had no marks at all. Unfortunately, for poor Richie,
his sister was not to be outdone and after giving
him time to recover she gave him an even worse beating
that sent him to the hospital emergency room.
In fact, Karen and I were becoming so competitive,
that we strove to outdo each other in our treatment
of Brucie and Richie. If I could get Richie to cry
after ten minutes of whippings, Karen would try
to get him to cry after 8 minutes. If I pissed on
Brucie to degrade him and make a point, Karen would
shit on his face and make him eat it. We even conducted
competitions. For example, we would spank Brucie
and Richie simultaneously and see who could raise
more welts and produce more colorful bruises. I
must admit that Karen usually won. She was actually
becoming even more demanding and sadistic than me,
and poor old Richie suffered for it. He never had
a free moment at home, he washed her clothes by
hand, polished her finger nails and toe nails, gave
her baths, gave her massages, shined her shoes,
and was constantly at her beck and call. If not
performing chores, or being beaten, he was kneeling
by her side kissing her feet, eating her pussy ,
or licking her anus clean. Karen even start using
him as a toilet rather than going to the bathroom.
If she had to urinate while watching TV, she merely
pissed in his mouth and he drank her golden nectar.
Over time Karen became bored with just
having her brother and father to torment. She needed
more male meat to pound and abuse, and who better
to provide it than her hapless brother. Richie was
then ordered to bring friends home as prey and victim
for her insatiable desire. These boys once victimized
by Karen were too embarrassed and ashamed to tell
others how they were beaten up and humiliated by
a mere girl two years their junior and typically
many pounds less, as Karen particularly loved the
athletic jocks who towered over her. Consequently,
these private escapades continued for several months
without anyone, but the poor boys who suffered her
wrath, being the wiser. In fact, it was not uncommon
for me to come home and find a bruised and battered
young stud being ridden around the living room like
a pony or kneeling between Karen’s legs feverishly
bringing her to orgasm with his tongue. Richie typically
stood by in full female regalia suffering his friend’s
humiliation in silent commiseration.
The ultimate was the time I came home to
find her with three young studs at the ready, each
with black eyes, bloody faces, and tears flowing
down their faces, as they kneeled in front of Karen,
head to the ground, bruised asses up in the air,
with dildos protruding from their butts. As I was
to learn, these were boys she had previously beaten
up one-on-one, and threatened with disclosure, had
returned for a special session as commanded by Karen.
Adding to the strange sight was Richie lying on
his back underneath the boys, sucking the cock of
one, bringing him to orgasm, before crawling to
the next boy to suck his cock. Typically, I had
purposely stayed away from fucking with these young
boys and had left Karen to her fun and games, but
the situation presented to me could not be ignored.
As I was to discover, Karen ordered the boys over
as a birthday present for me. In fact, the boys
were staying the weekend and we were to share them
in a weekend orgy of sex and punishment.
We took turns beating them and fucking
them for the next two days. We used our dildos on
their virgin assess and used their penises to pleasure
us. Please note I did not say fuck us, because although
their penises entered our vaginas we were in charge
and on top. Also, I doubt they enjoyed it much,
as we beat them about the face with our fists as
we gyrated on their upright, rock hard member. Additionally,
we had them fuck and suck each other just for the
fun and sheer humiliation of it. In between they
walked around totally naked, with their cocks painfully
bound by leather straps, and their balls covered
with hair pins that squeezed their testicles unmercifully.
They waited on us and pampered us like goddesses
as we gave them no rest or respite. By Sunday night,
they could barely walk out the door and their faces
and bodies were a mass of welts, bruises, and ugly
colors. They conspired to tell their parents they
were beaten and raped by a group of motorcycle gang
members, rather than be humiliated by the knowledge
that women had tortured them so cruelly. Shortly
thereafter, they all transferred to a different
school to escape the scornful gaze of their classmates.
Poor old Richie, however, remained our property
and possession, and with his father continued to
suffer our motherly, daughterly, and sisterly love
and caresses.
During this time, Richie’s other friends
began to wonder what was happening and his girlfriend
started calling to see why he was no longer seeing
her. This led to one of my divine inspirations that
gradually opened entire new horizons. I simply asked
her to come over and see what was happening herself.
When she arrived I provided no explanations and
advance warnings, but merely took her to Karen’s
room where Richie was being given a spanking for
a minor indiscretion. Seeing Richie in full female
garb, draped over his sister’s lap, being spanked
with a hairbrush obviously shocked her immensely.
I then explained our new living arrangements and
offered her an opportunity to punish Richie for
any past real or perceived transgressions. At first
she refused, but at Karen’ s urging Richie was commanded
to crawl over to his girlfriend’s feet, kiss them,
beg her for forgiveness, and plea to be slapped
in the face. Although Richie was horror stricken
by being seen by his girlfriend in his current predicament,
he was by now too emasculated to protest or refuse.
However, Karen did have to kick him in the ass a
few times to provide encouragement.
Redfaced and utterly humiliated, Richie
crawled over and began kissing her girlfriend’s
feet as commanded, interspersing his adoration with
sincere pleas to be slapped. His girlfriend was
initially sickened by this display and would have
no part in slapping her fallen boyfriend. However,
Karen and myself encouraged her to at least try
a few slaps and said if she wouldn’t do it, we would.
Richie’s pleas to be slapped quickly became more
heartfelt because he knew our slaps would be much
worse. Finally, his girlfriend agreed to slap him
and Richie raised his head to receive her blows.
The first few blows were mere love taps, providing
no pain whatsoever. Frustrated by her weakness,
I stepped in and said let me show you how to really
slap a sissy whore like Richie. I then gave poor
Richie a blow that sent him reeling to the floor.
Richie quickly resumed a position on his
knees and all on his own, in a voice that made me
proud said “Please slap me harder, your highness.”
His girlfriend, thus encouraged, proceeded to slap
his face in a steady rhythmn. As each blow landed,
it was obvious she was now starting to enjoy herself
and she started slapping poor Richie harder and
harder. As his face got redder and redder, her blows
got increasingly more powerful, and she started
smiling in glee. Eventually, the blows ended and
I suggested why don’t you punch him dear. She protested,
but I said Richie would love it. In a defeated and
beaten voice, Richie concurred. To make a long story,
short. She not only punched him silly, we got her
to spank him, whip him, and eventually, you guessed
it, fuck him. In fact she enjoyed herself so much
she became a regular visitor and a partner in poor
Richie’s education. In one particularly cruel moment
of inspiration, we conspired to have Richie and
her stage a fight at school in which she gave him
a vicious beating in front of his friends. This
was probably as humiliating as anything we had done
to Richie in private.
The experiment with Richie’s girlfriend
opened our eyes. Why not share our slaves with our
friends, and so we did. Originally we started with
my friends who loved having neutered males waiting
on them hand and foot. In fact we even started loaning
Brucie and Richie to our friends to perform menial
chores and serve as victims in staged fights that
would impress the friends of their conquerors. Eventually
Karen started demonstrating her prowess and command
over her brother, and even her father, to her friends.
Unfortunately, poor little Richie suffered greatly
because Karen’s friends just loved beating him up
and tormenting him. Another fallout of sharing Brucie
and Richie with our friends was that their plight
became common knowledge in the neighborhood. They
could not go out as men without suffering severe
embarrassment and distress. Things got so bad that
Richie had to drop out of school and Brucie had
to quit his job. On the bright side, however, though
Richie and Brucie might disagree, they were able
to become sissy whores 24 hours a day.
And so we come to the end of my story.
Brucie while still my husband in name, no longer
performs husbandly tasks. He contributes to my lavish
lifestyle by selling his sexual favors to gay men
and bull dyke lesbians, and getting paid for cleaning
houses. As for me I have become a dominatrix and
now earn a healthy living doing what I do best,
dominating and emasculating men. I also use my stable
of slaves to satisfy all of my sexual desires. Karen
has also become a dominatrix, and still competing
against her mom, has established her own stable
of slaves.
Richie eventually married one of Karen’s
girlfriends and has become another battered housewife.
Like his dad, he never wears male clothes anymore
and loves his life as Edwina. He and his wife have
three children, two girls and one boy. Unlike myself
his wife has chosen to break the boy early. His
two sisters are constantly beating him up and dressing
him in girl clothes. Well to each their own I guess.
Personally I think Richie turned out perfect and
he is the apple of his mother’s eye. I can’t imagine
a more adoring, caring son. After all how many sons
still kiss their mother’s feet in gratitude and
thank her for her golden nectar after being beat
up and fucked by her.
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