He stepped in front of me and plunged his dick in me. To our surprise I was wet and he slid in easily. It may have relieved my guilt to be so totally helpless because as it plunged into me the tingle built to a crescendo followed by this wonderful feeling of release that left me feeling weak just as he stepped away.
He sat in his chair panting while I hung there feeling thrills go through my body. He was breathing normally before he let me down. I collapsed to the floor in the foetal position confused and ashamed of my reaction to his cruel treatment.
He got another beer that he drank thirstily then said, "Now I get it. You get off on humiliation and pain. You must have had one orgasm after another when your Dad spanked you."
"No! It hurt awful. I didn't like it at all."
"Well maybe, but it was obvious you were getting off on my whipping. Your pussy was sopping wet when I fucked you."
He made me sound like some kind of terrible pervert. I began to sob, "No. No. I didn't like the whipping. I don't know why I got wet. It must have been fear."
"Yeah? Let's see if you are turnd on by the things normal girls like. Come over here."
I walked over to him hanging my head in shame. He had me stand in front of him while he rubbed my pussy with one hand and caressed my breasts and tweaked my nipples with the other. It did not make me excited. I just felt terribly humiliated.
He knew it was not making me excited and said, "Just as I thought. You are some kind of pervert. I suppose that is grounds for anullment of our marriage."
That really frightened me. I could imagine being in court with everyone hearing his description of my perversion. I sobbed "No! No. It just takes more time. Remember you spent a lot of time when I was tied."
He went back to caressing me and nibbling on my nipples. Although it did feel good it did not really excite me until I remembered the thrill of being tied and whipped. My tummy muscles began to tremble and I began to breathe in short breaths as my excitement built up.
He was pleased. He said, "Hey maybe you are normal. You are getting wet again."
He laid back on the floor and had me straddle his hips then directed his penis into my vagina. It felt good! I was so happy I leaned over to kiss him but he straightened me up again to pull up and down on my hips while he chortled, "That's the way baby! Work out! Make those great tits jump." This humiliation just seemed to add to my excitement.
For the rest of the week I agreed to do anything he said others girls like. I really did not believe other girls would like to lick and suck on his penis but I was afraid refusal would mean another whipping that may make me excited and prove I was perverted. Besides down deep I knew I was perverted because the only thing I had to do to get excited was to remember the whip hitting me. I began to think I deserved being humiliated and didn't object when he had me crawl over to him to suck his dick with my nipples dragging on the rug. I even got an orgasm when he fucked me "Doggy style" because it seemed so demeaning and I was looking at the whip he had left on the floor. Even the ultimate humiliation of spreading vaseline on his penis so he could pump it into my rectum seemed deserved and actually felt good since I had never suspected there were so many sensitive nerves in there.
He never let me wear clothes and I got used to it even when he had me pose in all kinds of revealing positions. The awful part is that he may be right about me. In order to get excited I have to think about my whipping and the memory is fading. He is pleased with me saying I am learning to be a perfect slut. That is not a compliment to me. I have always been taught to be a good girl.
Feb 22,1990
Dear Diary,
I am in my new home now. It is beautiful. Jim is at work and said I could wear clothes when he is not home. He said he would be back at 6 PM. I thought that was a great concession that would make me feel normal again and dressed fully with bra, panties, slip and a long dress. I have been naked so long it seems kind of strange to be wearing them. I seem so much more sensitive now. I could feel things I had never noticed before like the warm sun coming throug a window or soft breezes on my skin. The clothes should have made me feel secure but actually I just felt confined. My breasts couldn't move at all in the tight bra and my skin could feel nothing. After a short time I took them all off. It felt so good I ran though the house to feel my boobies bounce and sway and the breeze on my skin until I was sweating which just made me feel the breeze more as it evaporated the moisture. I thought about just staying naked until he returned but that would just prove I was a slut. When I had insisted on wearing clothes he had brought home a dress made out of burlap sacks. It was really stickery and my legs and stomach got a kind of rash that made me beg to take it off. I decided I would meet him in that to prove I would rather suffer than be naked. I decided to just wear the slutty g-string panties he had bought me under it to really prove my point. It didn't work out that way. In my bra and big panties the dress had just irritated my legs, tummy and back but now when I moved the stickers rubbed on my nipples and butt which brought on excitement. I suddenly realized I was rubbing my butt against a wall and squeezing my breasts to increase the feeling. I sobbed as I realized I was really turning into a slut and took it off to dress in my big panties, my bra, a slip and loose sweater with a long skirt.
When he came back with some groceries. He looked at me angrily and said, "Did I tell you what time I would be back?"
I was puzzled. "You said six Pm. Why?"
"What time is it now?"
Still puzzled I looked at my watch and said, "It is 6:05."
"You know I told you I wanted you naked when I am home. Why are you wearing all those clothes?"
I said defensively, "You said I could wear clothes when you weren't home. I was afraid if I was naked when you got home you would think I was a slut who would stay naked even when I didn't have to."
I felt guilty knowing I had been naked up to 5:30.
He had me undress, He tried to stay angry but I could see he was enjoying the long strip-tease since I had so many clothes on. Then had me put the groceries away so he could watch me bend and stretch to put them on shelves or in the fridge. He held one sack in his lap. When I had emptied the other sacks I took it from him. It had strange things in it. There were straps padded with sheepskin with buckles on them and a chain connecting them. When I asked them what they were for, he told me he was tired of having to tell me to take my hands away from my breasts or pussy to hide them. He pulled my wrists behind me and buckled them . Even this was not enough. He used some soft silky rope to tie the hobbles to my neck pulling my arms up and my head back to make my breasts push out. Strangely it helped me. I had only been covering myself because I felt guilty for flaunting myself. Now I had no choice, therefore no guilt, and was able to enjoy his compliments on my firm, full breasts. Naturally being pushed out like that encouraged him to fondle them. That is when he noticed the small scratches from the burlap. He caressed them and said, "What caused the scratches?"