Joanna's Story Ch. 03

Chapter 03

Ken's women experience much pain and humiliation.

Karla had gone off to university shortly after Ken married Celia. Karla hadn't been able to handle her emotions at the time of the wedding since she had thought that Ken would marry her some day. She had to get away from Mackey or go into hysterics every time she thought of losing Ken to Celia. Karla knew that Celia was a good person and cared about her. She didn't want to interfere in Ken and Celia's marriage although her own heart was breaking.

Karla was even more upset when she learned that the anonymous benefactor who was paying for her education was, in fact, Celia. Celia's parents were well off and had given her a large sum of money as a wedding gift. This was not money she would need to share with Ken. Ken received money from his photo studio "hobby" and from his wealthy father. Celia's parents knew Ken's reputation as a playboy and wanted Celia to have some money of her own 'just in case'. Aware of Karla's financial situation, Celia had transferred a large portion of her bank account into Karla's. Although Karla had been a contender for Ken's affections, Celia had had a soft spot in her heart for Karla ever since that gorgeous woman had spent so much time performing cunnilingus on her when Ken and Celia had their first sexual encounter. Although Ken had demanded that Karla perform the ritual, Karla had been so warm and loving in providing that comfort, that Celia felt a strong affection toward Ken's mistress. She felt that their lives were somehow intertwined.

Celia, in her third trimester of pregnancy, was ill; the illness stemmed not from the pregnancy but from the weekly beatings administered by her husband. She was terrified that she would lose the child, but she was even more frightened of having to be hospitalized and her secret becoming public knowledge. She was concerned that her father would murder Ken if he learned of the beatings. She didn't want her father to go to prison -- and she didn't want to her baby to grow up without a father.

By this time, she no longer had strong feelings for Ken. They had evaporated slowly but surely because of his lack of concern for their unborn child. She was becoming increasingly despondent and was not leaving her bed for days at a time. Fortunately for everyone, Karla returned to Mackey during a fairly long school break. One of the first things she did was go to visit Celia to thank her for providing for her university and nurse's training. She wouldn't have had sufficient funds for tuition, books, lab fees, and living expenses. She was extremely grateful to Celia and wanted to express her thanks.

Karla arrived at the Mackey home on a Friday afternoon while Ken was at his photography studio, bedding a new customer, a pretty woman who came to have her picture taken and stayed for lunch. Ken's assistants dined on her body before and after Ken provided that lunch in her vagina. The studio's two female managers no longer held title either to heterosexual or even bisexual status. After years of eating pussy, these former straight ladies had become full "blown" lesbians probably because they had had been latent homosexuals in the first place. The studio had gained a reputation of catering to the "in" crowd. "In" referring to vaginas. Frequently, when a horny female made an appointment to have her picture 'taken", she was referring to her pussy, not her face. The assistants would place a 'closed' sign on the shop door and, taking the woman to the back bedroom, would "open" her for business. This boudoir bordello had quite a few female customers; however, it was never really profitable. The two lez-ladies were too busy 'eating up the profits' to tend to photography. Ken continued to use the studio to recruit new witch-bitches, but he had to rely on his father's largesse to maintain his life style.

When no one answered her repeated knocks, Karla went around to the kitchen door and peeked in. Seeing no one, she tried the door and found it unlocked. She entered the house and began calling Celia's name.

"In here, Karla," whispered Celia, "I'm in the bedroom."

Karla was aghast when she saw Celia's condition and wanted to call an ambulance. When Celia pleaded that she not call 911, Karla called Dr. Janssen who rushed to the Mackey home. He medicated Celia's wounds and tried to convince her to go to hospital. Angry as a hornet at Ken's treatment of Celia, he also wanted to call the police.

Celia was able to dissuade him from taking that course of action, but he stayed at her bedside administering to her until Ken returned home.

The doctor read the riot act to Ken and told him that if he found even one more welt on Celia's body that he would call the police, Ken's father, Celia's father, and the local newspaper. Ken appeared to be contrite, but he was seething inwardly thinking that Celia had betrayed him. He was already thinking up new ways to punish her.

Karla stayed with Celia for the next couple of weeks. By that time, Dr. Janssen and Karla had nursed Celia to a healthier state just in time for her to give birth to a beautiful baby girl she named Joanna. Dr. Janssen, Karla, and Celia's mother delivered the child at the Mackey home as Celia adamantly refused to go to the maternity ward. Celia had told her mother she preferred home birthing, and Celia's mother said she understood. Her mother, knowing Celia's problem with physical sensitivity, didn't try to talk her daughter out of it. She figured that Dr. Janssen would be better able to handle the situation than the hospital staff. She was also pleased that Karla, a student nurse, would be there for Celia.

Karla told Ken she would kill him herself if he beat Celia again. She had lost all feeling for the S.O.B. Unfortunately, she had to go back to university and her classes. It wasn't long before Ken's resentment toward Celia pushed him into further punishing her. However, he had learned from his mistakes and found ways to hurt her without leaving marks on her body.

Ken found several whips that left little evidence of their use. He tried them all on Celia until he found a few that he enjoyed using on her buttocks, thighs, and breasts. They were a little over two feet long with shafts made of a strong flexible plastic. The first, called a flicker whip, had a narrow leather strip, a popper, on the end. With just a slight motion of his wrist, Ken could keep the end flicking back and forth across Celia's flesh in a blur without producing welts. As Celia only felt pain at the initial instant of the stroke, the constant touch of the popper kept her in pain the entire time Ken used it. He would hang Celia from the basement ceiling and 'flick the flicker' across her buttocks. Usually not satisfied with seeing those cheeks turn scarlet, he would use the whip between her upper thighs, front and back, until they were almost blood red. Still not content, he would flick her nipples and breasts, the whip becoming a blur in his expert hands. When she would pass out, he'd get a cup of coffee, sit and admire his handiwork. Ken was evil, incarnate.

Two other such instruments, called slappers, that he employed on Celia's tender skin had rectangular leather strips, one flexible and one firm. These too could be flicked back and forth with minimal wrist motion. Ken became adept at flicking them fast enough to also blur them. He found another advantage to these whips. He did not feel constrained to limit their use to a dozen strokes. He would employ them for up to twelve minutes or until Celia fainted. Her breasts, thighs, and buttocks would become very reddened but didn't retain marks.

Ken continued beating Celia about once a week for several years. It usually took a week for the redness to dissipate. Celia's trauma resulted in a malaise that she couldn't fight off. Taking care of Joanna became such a chore for her that Ken was forced to hire a nursemaid for the child. Of course, Ken drew the nursemaid into his Wicca, and would 'inject' her with his wizardry in front of Celia. Finally, Ken realized that the beatings might eventually result in his arrest and possible imprisonment and decided he needed a different way to hurt Celia. He still hadn't forgiven her for entrapping him.

Prior to marriage, Ken had a ritual he called WWW, his 'Wicked Wiccan Wednesday', and he decided to reestablish that system. Every Wednesday night during his twenties, Ken had invited one of the girls and women he called his 'witch-bitches' to his loft apartment, the top floor of one of his father's office buildings. Often, he was there with another woman, his Wednesday night 'witch-mate', his name for his mistress when he wasn't with Karla. He saw Karla on weekends, and she was blithely unaware of his other mistress. She had heard rumors of his trysts with many of the town's girls but had never caught him with any of them. She was as naïve as Celia and therefore much too trusting.

At times, he would have threesomes with Karla and another woman; he told her she would have to accept that as a way of life if they were to spend their lives together. Foolishly, Karla accepted those terms because she was smitten with Ken. She clung to him until he married Celia at which time she was crushed, able to break away, and went off to school in another state.

Ken told Celia that he would stop beating her, but he would expect her to agree with having other women enter their marriage bed and have threesomes with them. When Celia refused this further indignity, he told her that if she didn't comply, that in addition to continue beating her, he'd bring five-year-old Joanna to watch Celia's degradation, Celia caved and agreed to do as he wanted. This set the tone for the rest of their marriage.

Ken set this plan into action by having Celia herself invite women to participate in these bedroom brawls. He gave Celia access to his little black book, or rather a loose-leaf binder that kept growing thicker, and a set of instructions with which to plan the trysts. He insisted that she start at page one and work through to the last page at which time she was to start over from the beginning. This nauseated Celia, but she felt that she had no choice but to accede to his demands. The book was in a code she didn't understand; Ken told her that all she needed to know were the phone numbers of the women and told her how to decipher those. When she asked about names, he told her to ask for Missy; Missy would tell her the names of the other women. In taking part in these orgies, naïve Celia felt that she would not able to tell anyone of Ken's spousal abuse.

"Hello, may I speak to Missy please?" asked Celia.

"Uuuuuh, this is Missy. Who's calling?"

"Missy, this is Ken Mackey's wife. I ..."

"Oh, Mrs. Mackey, I haven't been seeing Ken for several years."

"I know, Missy, but that's what I wanted to talk to you about." Before her voice could desert her, Celia hurriedly blurted out, "Would you consider having a three way with Ken again?"

"If you mean with that cunt, DeeDee, absolutely not. Mrs. Mackey, I apologize for using that language; however, I do miss Ken. What are you asking? Are you getting a divorce? Are you leaving Ken? I don't understand. Mrs. Mackey, I'm not gay. The only reason I was willing to have sex with other women was to be with Ken. Ken demanded that from all the women he scre, uh, had sex with."

"I know, Missy. He explained that to me, and you may not have to have sex with DeeDee. Oh, Missy, this is sooo dificult for me to talk about. Please give me time to rephrase my questions." There's a long pause and Celia starts again.

"Missy, Ken has given me an ultimatum. Either I have sex with his women or ... Missy, I can't go on. May I call you back?"

"Certainly, Mrs. Mackey, though I can't believe you mean what you're saying. You don't have to call me back. I'll wait until you can compose yourself. Please don't cry. I know how manipulating Ken can be. I was his victim for several years, and, Lord help me, I know I'd succumb now. You absolutely can't give in to him, or he will just escalate his demands. Run away, Mrs. Mackey. Run. I know you have a young daughter. Take her and go back to your parents' home."

"I can't do that, Missy. My father has a terrible temper and he would kill Ken, and I can't let that happen. I'm in a terrible bind. Please help me. Please have sex with Ken and me."

A long pause again. "Yes, Mrs. Mackey. Okay, I will. I can't help myself. I've been craving sex with Ken ever since you two got married. I told myself that it was a godsend that he married you and freed me, but that's not true. What do you want me to do?"

"Do you remember the WWW, Missy? Can you tell me all about it?"

"Mrs. Mackey, you don't want to know about it. It would devastate you."

"Please, Missy. I do want to know the details. Don't you see that would help free me from any residual feelings I may still have for Ken? I won't be having sex with you and my husband. It will be with you and someone I don't even want to know; someone who is extorting - raping me. You needn't feel guilty about having sex with Ken's wife. I am not his wife from now on."

"Okay, I'll try, but please stop me if you can't handle what I'm about to tell you. First, Mrs. Mackey, my name isn't Missy. It's Susan. When I answered the phone and you asked for Missy, I knew the message would be from Ken. I had no idea that the call was from his wife, or I probably would have hung up without talking to you.

Ken called all his women Missy. He had so many that he couldn't remember their names. To prevent calling one of us by someone else's name, he called all of us Missy. That's when he wasn't calling us witch-bitch, cunt, fuck slut, and a bunch of other horrid names. Ken wasn't - isn't - a nice man, Mrs. Mackey, but I see you've found that out for yourself. Again, Mrs. Mackey, what would you have me do? Whatever it is, I'll do it; god help me. Would it mean going through the rituals he put us through when we were his sex slaves?"

"I'm afraid so, Missy. I can't bring myself to ask you, so please tell me what he'd have you do, and I'll say yes or no. And, please, Missy, call me Celia. Since we are going to be so intimate, it doesn't make sense for us to be formal. Missy -- Susan -- I'll need your help in another way. I've never performed oral sex on a woman. You'll have to guide me. Okay? I don't want to anger Ken by not doing it correctly. Oh, lord, how can I be discussing this? Please go on, Susan. Tell me about WWW."

"Mrs., uh, Celia. Ken would send a cab to pick me up; the cab would drop me at the rear door in the parking lot of his loft apartment. There's a high wall around the lot and no one could see me from the street. The rear door would be unlocked, and I'd go up to the loft in Ken's private elevator. Ken would greet me with 'hi bitch" or something like that. He very rarely kissed me. I'd be expected to go to his nightstand -- the panty drawer - and take out some other woman's dirty panties, turn them inside out, fold them, and put them in my mouth with the stained crotch against my tongue. I almost threw up each time I had to do that. Then, I'd take my panties off and put them in the drawer. Ken hated jeans or pants on women, so I always wore a dress. No bra. He hated bras, too. I had to wear heels, though. Usually, I had to wear the high heels the entire time I was in the loft except when we were in bed.

After I pulled my dress off, I had to stand there with my hands clasped behind my neck while Ken would feel me up, pinch my tits, uh, breasts and nipples until they were very sore. I didn't shave my pubic hair in those days, and he would grab a handful of hair and pull up until I was on tiptoe, but he didn't always stop then. I was afraid he would pull it out by the roots. I was in pain from the time I took off my dress until long after I left the loft.

You're thinking, 'Why didn't I stop seeing him?' Probably for the same reason you married him. He was a Svengali. He had some hypnotic power over me. I couldn't stop going to him no matter what he did to me. I hated him, and I hated myself, but I couldn't refuse to do his bidding. He was an addiction I couldn't turn down.

Then he'd have me lie on the bed spread-eagled with a pillow under my ass, uh, bottom.

Celia, I don't want to talk dirty to you, but it's so hard for me to use clean language and discuss Ken at the same time. Please pardon me." Celia nodded okay and Susan continued.

Ken would rub my clit until it was erect and then he'd snap it with his thumb and middle finger a dozen times. Ken had a superstition or fetish or something. Everything had to be by the dozen. He mentioned once that early settlers were allowed by law to beat their wives with a stick no thicker than the man's thumb but could hit her only twelve times. I don't know if that's true or not, but it was Ken's guideline. Anyway, my clit was on fire by the time he snapped it twelve times. I wasn't allowed to move or make a sound while he was hurting me, or he'd send me home dressed or naked. I didn't want to find out which. My legs would ache with my need to close them, but I managed to keep them far apart. After my clit was 'sore enough', Ken would penetrate me -- actually rape me. He enjoyed hurting me -- especially when he could cause my bruised clitoris addition pain. Oddly, I had orgasms during that pain. Ken would come inside me when we were alone, but had something else in mind when his witch-mate DeeDee was there.

We women are strange creatures, aren't we? We say we hate being hurt, and then we come when we are brutalized. Are you sure you want to hear more, Celia?"

"Yes, Susan, but I need a glass of wine to calm me down. Please hold on. I'll be only a couple of minutes." Three minutes elapse and Celia is back on the phone..

"Susan, I'm sorry, but I am shaking. Ken bragged to me what to expect, but hearing your first hand account is so much worse. Go on before I lose my nerve."

"Okay, Celia, but it gets even more, er, gruesome. Ken would hang me from the ceiling by my wrists and spread my legs far apart. Sometimes he'd use a spreader bar, but he was inventive, too. He had drilled bolts into two bowling balls and fastened my ankle cuffs to the bolts. The balls were so heavy, and I was so weak from pain that I couldn't drag them to close my legs. Ken had several whips and crops that he would beat me with. By my last visit, he was using one whip twelve times on the backs of my upper thighs; another whip a dozen times on the fronts of my thighs; a dozen on my belly and pussy; and then a dozen on my ass. The worst was the cane that he reserved for my ass. It would take weeks for the welts and bruises to fade. He never hit me anywhere else than from below my waist to above my knees. I think he didn't want the welts to show below my dress or on my back when I wore a backless dress. Although he didn't use whips on my tits, he would stand in front of me and slap them back and forth a dozen times. Sometimes, he would slap each breast twelve times. I'm sure that at times, he would forget the count and hit me more than twelve times. I never complained because I was afraid that he would send me home naked. I don't know why that would be worse than the beatings, but it was to me at that time.

I mentioned that I would not have sex with DeeDee now. She was there at the loft more often than not and, believe it or not, she was crueler than Ken. When she beat me, she put her weight behind each stroke. Those beatings took longer to heal than Ken's did.

Ken would put DeeDee and me into a sixty-nine position with me on the bottom. He'd screw DeeDee doggy while making me to lick them both as he pushed in and out of her. He'd pull out of her from time to time, put his penis in my mouth, and tell me to lick off her juices, so there would be more 'traction'. When he came, he had me lick him clean, suck his semen out of DeeDee's pussy, and lick her clean. Then I'd have to lick her to orgasm until she was satisfied. Usually, that was many times.