At a somewhat early age, I became fascinated with the BDSM lifestyle. Just because a person becomes fascinated, it doesn’t necessarily mean that they have the ability to dominate or submit to another person. A person has to seek out the truth, and so…this is where my story begins…
I was 23 years of age, attending college and like a lot of students…to curb costs; I was living at home with my parents. Living at home had its good points and truly, only one bad point. The bad point…not too often, did I have the house all to myself. So, the only sexual enjoyment that I ever felt in my bedroom was between my hand and my cock and yes; my creative mind. The good points outweighed the bad points though. My mother cooked all of my meals, she did all of my laundry and as embarrassing as it sounds; she still made my bed. I was the only child and at my age, I was well aware that my mother still spoiled me. My father didn’t interrupt my mother’s enjoyment in spoiling me. My father wanted me to graduate so that I could eventually become gainfully employed…and too, he expected me to mow the lawn.
And so, my fascination began while I was writing my thesis on the dynamics of the BDSM lifestyle. What would cause a person to want to serve another person in an un-conditional manner? What makes a person want to become enslaved to another person? Why would a person want to be disciplined as an adult? Many more questions came to my mind…and in time, through research alone, I was able to provide answers to my many questions. The part of my thesis that I enjoyed the most was when I was able to interview those who were active participants in the lifestyle. I was able to gain insight, a sense of understanding into both the submissive and dominant roles. I could easily see myself in the dominant role…and so, my creative mind, to include my hand; I masturbated on a regular basis.
I completed my thesis…I graduated with a Master’s degree and became gainfully employed. I eventually moved into my own apartment. On the day of my move, my mother cried…my father gave me a firm handshake. I knew that my parents were proud of me; I knew that they loved me.
Eventually, I learned how to cook. I learned how to do my own laundry and every morning; I made my own bed. I was truly enjoying my independence…and still, I only lived on the other side of town from my parents. On the few occasions when I dated…if the opportunity presented itself, I was able to bring my date into my home and into my bedroom. Remembering my research on the BDSM lifestyle…I often found myself wanting to introduce the lifestyle to my dates; I wanted to dominate them. It just never materialized…and so, my creative mind along with my hand often made contact. I came to the realization that I wasn’t going to meet anyone, say…in the mall or at the ball park…or in the same company as I worked in.
One of the questions I asked the participants during my research was “how” people connected. They always mentioned the inter-net. I found myself joining a web-site that they had mentioned. And so, in the quietness of my home, I began to search for the right person…and I was amazed that there were other people in my small conservative community that shared the same interests as I did. The first thing I did after joining…I used the search engine and typed in the word “submissive.” The age factor became an issue…eventually, I had to widen the parameter and more and more personal ads came into view.
I was pleased to see that most everyone who had placed a personal ad also, had included a few photos. Aside from a small description, they listed a number of activities that they were interested in pursuing. My heart was beating a mile a minute…in the back of my mind; I was hoping that I was going to find my soul mate. Out of curiosity alone, I widened my search…I had noticed that there were couples who had placed personal ads. “Go figure,” I said to myself, “there are submissive bi-sexual couples.”
Again, I was finding myself becoming fascinated with the many colorful personals that I was reading. And then my jaw fell to the floor…an image of my father and mother came into view. I couldn’t believe my eyes. In one photo, my father and mother were standing side by side; fully clothed…my yard was in the background of the photo! A few partially nude photos showed both my parents wearing collars. Another photo had them standing side by side, naked with their backs facing the camera lens. Then another photo showed them standing in front of the camera lens; they stood completely naked. I had never seen my parents in this state of dress…or lack, thereof. After viewing their photos…I found myself reading the interests that they wanted to pursue.
I turned my computer off… and stepped away. I was fully aware that I had taken the time to view my parent’s photos; I had read their bios. What was I going to do? How was I supposed to react? Stepping away from the computer…I was hoping that I was going to wake up from a dream…returning to my computer, re-visiting the web site; my parents personal again came into view.
My parent’s personal ad: “My husband and I are seeking to build a Master/slave relationship that is perfectly tailored for us and for the man that will eventually own us. We are a married bi-sexual couple, very much committed and in love with each other. We are both very willful, energetic people…however; we both believe that we were wired from birth, to serve a man in an unconditional way. We are both strong-minded and intelligent, career minded…our child has graduated from college; we seek to serve a man in an unconditional manner.
Both my husband and I are seeking a kind and yet, firm Master…his word to us will be law. We hope to find a Master that will push us to becoming better people, than we already are. Together, my husband and I are seeking to build a deep, loving bond that is more powerful than any vanilla relationship could ever be.
My husband and I are not jealous of each other…so we have no problems sharing and being shared by our Master. We seek to be trained in such a way, that we’ll both be able to anticipate your needs; we want to exceed your expectations. We both want to be close to you…we want to feel that we are equally necessary in your life. We want you to know that the simple, the mundane things that are beneath you, are in the hands of your capable slaves so that you may focus your concerns on greater things.
We are hopeful that you will appreciate our level of intelligence…our level of devotion and obedience. We are seeking a strong friendship/relationship and the security that goes with it. We are not looking to be shared with another person…or group of people. We expect our Master to be disciplined and very strict in matters of obedience. We expect to be molded through whatever means you deem necessary…so that we may become your perfect slaves. Speaking for myself, I know that the training will be hard…you will have to break this willful personality of mine…and though I may fight back; I expect all of my limits to be pushed until I fulfill your desires.
My husband and I are masochists, we respect bondage and we both get turned on by having control taken out of our hands. We wish to have our normal habits, train of thought and rituals removed…we will respect and always speak to our Master in a respectful and polite way. A collar is the most sublimely beautiful form of jewelry and we both feel it’s an exquisite symbol of devotion.
Experience isn’t a necessity…we ourselves are new to this lifestyle.”
Each and every time I stood up and moved away from the computer…with every passing day; I found myself returning to the web-site. Each and every time that I read their bio and looked at their photos…I knew that I was becoming more and more aroused. I was seeing my parents in a different light, so to speak…aside from their smiles; I began to notice how attractive they both were.
My father was nearing 50 years of age…having been a mailman all of his life; he kept himself in shape. He had a vast array of hobbies…he had a passion for fishing, playing golf; he supported me in everything I chose to do. Looking at my father in the photo, standing side by side with my mother…I couldn’t help but notice his naked form. He wasn’t muscular, his hair was slowly turning to gray…he stood 6’1” and he weighed close to 195lbs. His cock was visible in the photo, limp and covered by pubic hair…and I began to wonder if he was the same size as I was. My father was bi-sexual?? Up to this point in my life…I had never been attracted to a man. But I had to admit, my father’s ass was cute…nicely shaped.
My mother’s smile was seen in the photos…the same smile I had grown to love. My mother’s smile had provided me with such comfort and security. She was a nurse in the Emergency Room…having spent most of her life, helping those in need. And now, I was seeing my mother’s naked form. I had never seen my mother naked before…or for that matter, semi-naked. She always dressed in a very conservative way…even her bathing suit was a 2-piece. I couldn’t help but notice that my mother’s breasts were somewhat small in size…as a baby I knew that I had sucked her nipples for nourishment. My mother’s stomach was flat. Below her waist…a patch of pubic hair prevented me from seeing her pussy. Her ass was nice, round…and I began to wonder if my mother had ever had anal sex before.
After learning about my parent’s interest in the lifestyle…I tried to maintain a sense of normalcy. It was difficult to hear my mother’s voice on the phone. She continually asked me generalized questions…about my new job…if I was keeping company with any special lady... if I needed anything…to make sure that I made time to visit, to have dinner with them. For those times when I had dinner at their home…that time proved to be very difficult. At the dinner table…though they were fully clothed and carrying on a normal conversation; I envisioned them being naked. When my father and I retired to the living room to watch television…though he was speaking to me, I wasn’t hearing his voice…I wondered about his bi-sexuality; I wondered about his submissive desire to serve. When my mother made her appearance in the living room…I wanted her to be seated at my knees.
Whether it was a right thing to do or not…I found myself masturbating to the thought of dominating my parents. I loved my parents…I didn’t view sex or sexual pleasure as being dirty or nasty. Though I had no experience in the lifestyle, I knew in my heart that I respected the roles. I just needed the opportunity…and if given the opportunity; I knew that I would find peace and resolve.
The more I thought of my parents…within my mind; I became confident. Could I persuade my parents to conform to my thoughts and wishes…could I actually have any sexual contact with my parents? I knew in my heart, that yes…I could persuade my parents to meet, to exceed my expectations…and yes, I wanted to expose myself to their sexuality. I wanted to exercise my right in disciplining them…I wanted to be the sole reason for their obedience.
On the wall of my mother’s kitchen hung a wooden paddle…it simply read, “fanny whacker.” On many occasions, in my mother’s kitchen…I had felt the sting of that paddle, along with my mother’s determination and strength. My father wore a belt for only two reasons. One reason was to hold his pants in place around his waist. The other reason was to strap my naked butt…and he was quite proficient in accomplishing that task. Yes, I grew up knowing that if I had mis-behaved or was seen as being a bratty kid…then without question; I knew that my parents would discipline me. I can never remember a time when I didn’t cry like a baby after a spanking…and always; I knew that my parents loved me.
I can recall the last time I masturbated; my parents were of course, the subject of my thoughts. It was in the morning hours…the night before, I had masturbated with my parents in mind…now, 7 hours later; they were again in my thoughts. My cum had flown from my pee slit…my voice had risen in pleasure and I lay peacefully in my bed, though un-satisfied. I then stood in my shower…I had found my confidence and I needed answers. I phoned my mother and asked if I could come over that night for dinner.
My mother cooked a beautiful dinner…both my father and mother knew that I had something important to say to them. Throughout dinner, they tried to get it out of me…as to what I wanted to say. I repeatedly told them that what I had to say could wait until after dinner. I realized as I was speaking to them, that my voice was precise and sharp. I knew they were being persistent because they cared for me; they loved me. At long last, it seemed as if my parents came to the realization that I was only going to speak to them when I was ready to talk…and they seemed to take a submissive approach in being silent. I felt empowered…and from that moment forward, I controlled the subject matter for everything that was said at the dinner table.
After dinner, my father and I went into the living room to watch television. Just like clockwork, when my mother had cleaned up the kitchen; she joined us. I asked my father to shut off the television…and when the room grew silent; I mentioned the web site. My mother’s eyes grew wide…in fact; she had a horrified expression on her face. My father looked into my mother’s direction…as if he was seeking guidance from her. I had to repeat my question twice, “has anyone responded to your personal ad?” My mother’s eyes were blinking furiously, and in a soft voice, I heard her say, “A few people have…but, we haven’t met with anyone.”
And so, my parents had only been communicating with others via e-mail. I also found out that my parents curiosity was reached because of my thesis. My mother explained to me that she had read my notes, then the final draft…that she had shared this information with my father. They were seeking something new in their marriage. They were already aware of their bi-sexual interests…from time to time my mother explained to me, that they had engaged in an open marriage concept. All throughout our conversation, my father had remained quiet. In many ways, this was an expected trait of my father…he often would let my mother take the lead.
My thesis had proven itself to be a very powerful tool. And so, I explained myself to my parents. “I need to learn more about the lifestyle and I realize that I can’t without exposing myself to someone. It’s finding that person or persons that can be difficult. But, I need to learn the truth behind my feelings.” I was aware for the first time, that my parents had read my thesis…and I quickly came to the realization, that they must had listened to my words; to my emotions.
This is when my father spoke up, “Terry, I know this must be a surprise to you. But, are you upset because your mother and I wrote the personal? Are you upset because we want to pursue this lifestyle?”
“No, I’m not upset.” Looking into my father’s eyes, I heard myself say, “I want to be your mentor, your dominant…I want you and mom to be my slave, my servant; I want to be your Master.”
The living room grew very quiet. There was no turning back…a very eerie and uncomfortable moment seemed to go on forever. It was my mother who finally broke the silence, “Terry, that’s impossible. We’re not experienced in the lifestyle…but we know that it involves sex and sexual pleasure. What you’re asking…is that we engage ourselves in a pre-meditated incestuous relationship.”
I was expecting this question. Before the idea was even considered, I had thought of the incest implications. “We know each other…were not strangers. There’s a risk and safety factor that should be considered…and I’m speaking for myself, as well as for you. It only makes sense that we discover the lifestyle together. My goal is to build a bond…so that you and dad can feel safe enough and feel connected with me so that you’re able to unleash your create minds and give yourselves to me…and yes, I want to focus my attention on your wants, needs and fantasies.” I allowed my few words to settle into their brains. And then, I continued. “Many people view incest as being an abusive situation…mostly because an older family member is pushing themselves on a younger person of the same family. I understand that. In my mind, there’s no difference between that situation and a person who rapes an unwilling person. What I find appealing is that we’re consensual adults…we already trust each other, we already can define our love for each other…so in my mind; it feels right.”
My attention turned to my father. “Ok Terry…I’m putting you on a pedestal so to speak. How would you even begin to dominate me?”
My answer came very quick. “You need to acknowledge my voice…when I speak; you have to accept that I’m your authority. Questioning my authority in any slight way…I will discipline you.” My father was looking straight into my eyes as I was speaking. “Go into the kitchen and bring me the fanny whacker.” A moment or two passed…I heard my mother gasp…and yet, my father stood up and left the living room towards the kitchen.
When my father was away from ear shot, I turned my attention towards my mother. “After I’ve given Hank his spanking…you can expect a trip over my lap.” My mother didn’t say a word…however, her eyes grew very wide.
I was empowered…I’m not sure how all of this transpired, but it was unfolding right before my eyes. My father returned to the living room and in his hand, he held the fanny whacker. My heart was beating a mile a minute. In my mind, I had rehearsed this moment…but now, the moment was at hand. I knew my father was testing me…I sensed from the beginning that he was expecting me to relinquish what little control I was trying to grasp. Standing to my right side, I reached out…quite true, I simply reached out and began to undo my father’s pants. My hands were shaking…my heart was beating a mile a minute. He stood motionless…and I was acutely aware that his erection was showing. I began to feel my cock stiffen…the only sound, aside from my heavy breathing and my mother’s gasps, was my father’s zipper being lowered. At last, he was standing wearing nothing but his white underwear.
I didn’t ask my father to place himself across my lap…I told him to place himself over my lap. I allowed my mind to recall the many times I had felt the fanny whacker…and my intent was not to “pay back” those painful memories. Those spankings that I had endured were earned…and my parents had always disciplined me with love. My father’s weight was over my lap…his erection was felt against my body. I looked at my mother…she was seemingly in a state of shock. I had never spanked anyone prior…but, I wanted to own my parents. I wanted to experience the moment, to test the truth of my thoughts…and so, my hand raised itself and the sound of the paddle making contact with my father’s bottom echoed throughout the living room.
The spanking had begun and my father quickly realized that his spanking wasn’t to be seen, as being a game. I held my father in place…I placed my leg up over his legs, seemingly pinning him in place and my voice was then heard. “From this moment forward, if I have to correct your behavior, or question your level of obedience…you will be properly disciplined.”
Spank! I wasn’t using my strength…I didn’t need to. The fanny whacker was made of a hard wood…and when it connected, the sound was distinct…and too, the sound of the recipient, as was the case of my father; his cries were sincere.
Spank! Spank! Spank! Spank! Spank! A quick procession of spanks…and each time the fanny whacker was felt; my father cried out.
I have no idea how many times the paddle connected to my father’s covered bottom…the number didn’t matter to me; I was seeking results. My father had remained over my lap…and I knew without question, if he truly wanted to escape; he could have. I had purposely spanked his thighs…and the unquestionable impression of the fanny whacker was seen against his white skin. My father was whimpering when I began to tug down his underwear. “Any and all spankings will always be completed on your bare bottom.”
The sensation of feeling my father’s erection against my body was incredible…there was no denying it; I wanted to enjoy my father’s cock. With my father’s underwear down around his ankles…I glanced over at my mother. She looked at me…without any words being said; it was as if she was aware that soon…she was going to be over my lap…receiving the same type of punishment. I thought it was interesting…tears were rolling down her cheeks. The fanny whacker took on a different type of sound…as it connected with my father’s bare bottom.
And too, my father cried out...his voice; his anguish was heard in a different tone. And my hand continued to raise itself…again, my strength wasn’t my concern, it was the number of times the whacker came into contact with my father’s bare bottom. I was looking for the results…and soon after his underwear had been lowered…I came to the conclusion that my father had had enough. The whacker had left numerous marks on his ass cheeks and thighs…simple reminders that he was properly spanked by his son…and that feeling would be felt into his tomorrow. When I told my father to get up…when he was facing me, I saw the tears flowing down his cheeks. I also noticed his erection…it was quite attractive.
I pointed to a corner, “Go stand in that corner…and make sure your nose touches the corner.” My father struggled for those few feet, while his pants and underwear remained around his ankles. At long last, he stood in the corner with his hands down by his side. “Touch, rub or caress your bottom…and I promise you a return trip over my lap.”
My cock was straining to be released from the confines of my pants. There was no doubt in my mother’s eyes…she was acutely aware of my state of arousal. “Helen, I want you to approach me…stand to my right side.”
My mother kept saying over and over again, “Please no…I can’t do this.” At one point, my father looked over his shoulder. “Hank, if you remove your nose from that corner…trust me when I say this; you will feel the belt.” My father quickly obeyed me; my confidence was building.
I wasn’t going to stand up, I wasn’t going to approach my mother…my intent was not to force her to obey. My intent was to have her come to me, on her own free will. My voice was clear and precise. “You’re going to stand to my right side. You’re going to accept your punishment…and as I told Hank, if ever you misbehave or are seen as being dis-obedient; I will properly punish you. Now…stand up and approach me.”
My mother’s body was trembling…and I’m sure my father had a hard time staying in the corner…as it was; he was twitching from one foot to the next. When my mother was at my right side, I immediately began to work on the snap of her slacks…and I’m quite sure that my father had heard my mother’s zipper being lowered. With my mother’s slacks down around her ankles…I couldn’t help but notice the soft color of pink; her panties were beautiful. I could tell that she had a good bush protecting her pussy…the mound of her pussy against her panties was prominent.
I assisted my mother over my lap…already, she was crying. I couldn’t help but wonder if she was aware…was she able to feel my erection; her pink panty clad bottom was very appealing. Using my hand…I spanked; I covered my mother’s panty clad bottom with my hand. I noticed that my father had in fact, snuck a peek.
My mother’s thighs were pink…when I took the whacker in my hand, when I placed the wood against my mother’s panty clad bottom, it’s as if she was aware that a new painful sensation was about to be felt. She cried in earnest…her legs began to kick…and I made sure the sound of the whacker echoed off from the walls…followed by her high pitched wail.
My strength again wasn’t the issue…I was seeking results. I had to place my leg over my mother’s kicking legs…and then, I gave her 10 sharp spanks using the whacker. Each time the whacker connected with her panty clad bottom…she wailed out in distress. When I reached for the waist band of my mother’s panties…her legs remained passive, she was crying and pleading with me…slobbering her words amidst her tears. To no avail…the two globes of my mother’s ass cheeks came into view. My mother’s ass crack came into view…and I readily noticed that the spanking she had already received had left her bottom quite red.
The same impressions that were left on my father’s ass cheeks and thighs…were clearly seen on my mother’s ass cheeks and thighs. I wanted my mother to feel the spanking into her tomorrow…and when my mother’s spanking was completed, I realized that she had no fight left in her. Beautiful marks were seen against both of her ass cheeks…the whacker had done its job.
When my mother was off my lap…I instructed her to place the hassock in the center of the room. It was an amazing scene…while my mother cried; she simply obeyed my every word. When I told her to approach my father…to remove his belt from his pants; she obeyed me. The belt was handed to me…interesting enough; my mother had doubled it prior to giving it to me.
“Hank, remove yourself from the corner. Helen, step into the corner…and make sure your nose stays in the corner. Move away from the corner and you’ll get the same lickin that Hank is about to get.” My father’s eyes grew very wide. And yet, he approached the hassock. “Over the hassock…and when you feel this belt biting into your ass and thighs, maybe you’ll come to the understanding that I’m taking ownership of you and Helen.”
My father’s ass was centered over the hassock…his arms were outstretched and seemingly he was trying to reach for the carpet…his legs were kicking in the air. With the belt in my hand…I gave my father 15 hard strokes of the belt. New marks appeared on his ass cheeks and thighs…my aim and strength was justified; my father cried out in pain. Yet, he didn’t move…he accepted his punishment. My mother remained in the corner…not once, did she look back over her shoulder. She remained passive, submissive…and continued to sob.
I allowed my father to remain over the hassock until his crying came to an end. It was an amazing feat…and an amazing discovery; I was energized and to be perfectly honest; I was horny! When my parents had stopped crying…they stood before me. “This isn’t just about sex and sexual pleasure…this is about your state of mind, as well as my state of mind. I’m going return to my apartment…after I leave, you both will get yourself ready for bed. You will have no sexual contact of any kind…this includes masturbating. If you masturbate or have any sexual contact…I will expect you to admit to this tomorrow morning. I’ll be here at the 9 o’clock hour and I will expect a hearty breakfast.”
I then left my parents alone in their living room. My cock was aching…willing itself to be freed from the confines of my pants. My orgasm came quickly…lying in my bed, recapturing the nights events; I was ready to take complete ownership of my parents. I no longer would ever need to masturbate again. They were going to be responsible for my pleasure…they were going to be the reason for my orgasm’.