Owned by Two Sisters

Depending on her mood, she sometimes treated me to sex after my debt had been paid, but such delicacies occurred less often than I'd preferred. I never knew ahead of time for reasons she knew to be important. She'd learned how to educate me in behavioral matters, and when sex did follow a punishment session, it was the best sex of my life.

I'd agreed with my wife long ago that I needed help with my issue of being deceitful, especially when it was convenient for me to avoid punishment or get out of a jam of my own making. This time, the lie had flown from my lips without restraint, far too easily, and she'd caught me. I knew immediately that I'd earned a trip to her woodshed.

She smiled wickedly. "I think you can expect a minimum of a hundred lashes with my belt today." My heart sank and I began to tremble. "And I have planned a little extra punishment for you, too." She arched an eyebrow. "I have something very special in mind, Raymond." She let the words hang in the air while watching me tremble. My mind ran wild with possibilities. She must have read my facial expression because I think she smiled. "Remember the strapping frenzy?"

Once, my wife had tied me to a coffee table and given me thirty nonstop lashes with her leather whip, the dreaded cat of nine tails, nine strips of leather with the ability to turn flesh into raw, swollen meat. I'd cried so long and so hard, I'd nearly passed out from the ordeal. I would never forget the term, "strapping frenzy." She sometimes preceded the word frenzy with spanking, paddling, or whipping. I'd learned to hate the sound of the word.

I nodded as my legs began to go weak..

"You're very close to a strapping frenzy, Raymond."

"I'm sorry."

"Ahem."

"I'm sorry, Mistress Debi."

"Oh, you will be." She smiled again. "And the extra punishment I have planned for you after your strapping..." Her voice trailed off without concluding the thought audibly. She stood. "For now, we'll be correcting that respect problem of yours. You will learn to respect me, Raymond, as well as to obey my every command, since you seem to have forgotten."

"I already do." But it was too late. She motioned to the spanking chair, an antiquated beast handed down to her from her mother. I wondered if my mother-in-law beat her husband while he was tied to the monstrosity. As my wife reached a hand to her belt buckle, acid flared in my stomach as if I'd swallowed a blowtorch.

"The kids are with mother for our weekend." Weekend? I knew I was in for something horrible. They never went away for the entire weekend. "So, in addition to your extra punishment, I also had a special date night set aside. I'm sure you remember?"

"Yes, Mistress Debi."

"I was thinking, it would be nice to have another child, make it three." She smiled dreamily. It was hard to imagine so much pain and so much pleasure coming from the same person. "I might let you be a daddy again, Raymond."

"That would be wonderful, Mistress."

"You will never love anyone but me, is that clear?"

Remembering our renewed vows, I said, "Perfectly, Mistress."

"Your cock is for me and only me. But you must work off all your demerits before we can think about sex."

"I understand, Mistress." I looked into her warm brown eyes and suddenly had to work to fight back tears, a fight I would soon lose to her strap.

She smiled again. She loved seeing fear in my eyes. It made her feel the power. "Now bare your bottom for me. You know the drill. Naked, bent over the chair." Hoping to avoid another strapping frenzy that could keep me standing for a week, I obediently removed my clothes, folded them neatly, and promptly got into position. Without having been asked, I arched my back for her and kept it arched, extending my rump for her to blister. Any points I might score now could lessen the whipping. At least I hoped as much.

Her feet came gracefully into view as she came around to the front of the chair and fastened my hands to cuffs she had hidden beneath the cushion. Doing so brought my head to below the level of my bottom. I watched nervously as one hand expertly loosened her belt. I heard the trademark whisper as she pulled it off. I shivered in anticipation at the sound of it, and saw her clutching it in her spanking hand. The belt hung at her side and swung tauntingly as she walked about. Expecting me to be watching, she slipped out of her high heels slowly and deliberately, revealing sexy feet she had made me worship with my mouth many times, toes I'd suckled and made to sparkle with my tongue. The sight of them made me forget about the beating for a moment. I imagined all ten toes pointing skyward, her legs parted, her vagina penetrated by my manhood, thrusting, sliding in and out, kissing her mouth hungrily, exploding my cum inside of her.

The touch of cold iron clamping my ankle to one of the chair's legs brought me back. Standing behind me, she had spread my legs apart and locked my ankles firmly to cuffs.

"Don't you dare move, Raymond, or it will be much worse for you."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Eyes on my toes." It was advice I made sure to follow. Once, she'd ordered me to watch her toes but I had not and she'd slapped me across the face with the bottom of her foot for my disobedience. Now I watched them out of habit. Keeping my eyes on her toes kept my head from moving about, and it helped keep me focused on the whipping. It kept me in the moment, prevented me from imagining I were on a tropical island, sipping a fruity drink.

"Yes, ma'am, they are, ma'am."

I did as I was told without protest. But with the belt about to fall, I wanted to run, wanted to cry, felt helpless and as embarrassed as a schoolboy. I wanted to cancel our agreement and tell her none of this was working. But I knew it was. At some strange level, I needed to be disciplined by her. I needed these whippings, as odd as the concept was. Opting out of the agreement would only serve me in the short term, and I realized it.

"Mistress Debi?" My feeble voice cracked. I worked to push out words through a throat made tight by fear.

I heard only her soft, steady breathing coming from behind me. Clenching my eyes tightly, back arched and bottom held out for her to see, I had braced for the strap to fall. But she gave me a reprieve, if only a short one.

"Nice job on extending your bottom, by the way. A little higher, though. You're relaxing too much. There, like that. Now, what do you want? Time's a wasting." In contrast to mine, her voice was firm and strong. Gone was the frivolity, the warmth for which it was known. This was her business voice. She was ready, she was resolute. I shivered openly.

"Please be gentle, my mistress."

"Tell it to the strap," she said. "Just keep your head still and those eyes riveted on my toes." And with that, the belt promptly whistled through the air and found its mark.

Whoosh, crack. Pain shot through my ass, and the tears I'd been working to hold back began to pool in my eyes. Without pause, the strap fell again and again.

Whoosh, crack. Whoosh, crack. My whipping was underway.

I lost count almost immediately and must have begun bawling by the tenth lick. I sobbed, begged, even pleaded, while kicking my legs pointlessly against the firm stocks. No safe word had been agreed upon because there was no way out. The strap kept coming.

Whoosh, crack. Whoosh, crack.

I think my pleas only angered her, as the whipping built in intensity. She said nothing, just whipped me silently, methodically. My wife was in business mode.

Whoosh, crack. Whoosh, crack.

My howls had no effect on the dumb, mindless strap with the limited vocabulary.

Whoosh, crack, the only words the belt spoke, and it spoke them often.

"Head still, eyes on my toes, Raymond."

The belt hurt so much, I didn't know if my eyes were even open.

Whoosh, crack. Whoosh, crack. Whoosh, crack. Whoosh, crack, like a heavy man moving fast on a bum leg. Whoosh, crack. Whoosh, crack.

No longer able even to sob, I lay limp, mustering only muffled groans. Whoosh, crack. Whoosh, crack.

Then, as abruptly as it started, my spanking was over.

Quivering like Jello, I sobbed. Mistress Debi waited as my sobs slowed and I regained my composure, leaving me tied up and bent over all the while. Knowing the strap could resume speaking without warning, I trembled visibly. My divine mistress examined the welts she had so expertly put into my crimson bottom and nodded her approval.

"Nice," she said. "Very nice. Oh, yes. This has been a thorough job." I heard her smiling. Then I heard the clicking of her iPhone's camera. "Your backside looks splendid, indeed." More snapshots.

Then she unlocked my ankles and worked her way to the front of the chair. I raised my head slowly to meet her eyes. She was grinning.

"Camera, my mistress?" I panted.

"For my collection, silly man."

"Oh."

"I'll show you my website one day."

My mind jumped around, visiting all sorts of frightening possibilities.

"As for your spanking, you did very well, Raymond." I watched as she slid one foot into one of her heels—slowly, watching me watching her—followed by the second. My wife always spanked me barefoot. It gave her more traction, and more traction meant a harder stroke and more pain, and more pain meant more tears, and more tears meant a happier wife and an obedient husband. Then she looped the belt around her waist and unlocked my wrists. I stood and she eyed my limp cock, brushing her fingers lightly against it. "Mine," she cooed. "You are all mine." She hugged me and I pressed my face against her bosom and wept like a little boy. She kissed me on the mouth, a kiss that reminded me she was not my mother, rather my mistress, my disciplinarian, my lover, my wife, indeed my owner. She wiped away my tears, kissed me again.

"Thank you for spanking me, Mistress," I sniffled.

"Have you learned your lesson, Raymond? No more faux pas at the ATM? No more lying?"

"Yes, Mistress. I promise to obey all your rules, always."

"Good, because we can just as easily continue the whipping if you need it."

"No, I don't."

"What was that?"

"No, Mistress. I don't need to be whipped anymore. Please."

"Good." She smiled. After applying lotion to soothe my fiery bottom, she said, "Now, I want you to stand in the corner for fifteen minutes and think about why I had to whip you."

"Yes, Mistress."

"Do not touch your bottom. Do not rub. I will be watching."

"Thank you, Mistress."

"I mean it, Raymond. I can put you over my knee or the coffee table and add another fifty with the paddle." It was obvious how much she enjoyed punishing me.

"I know, Mistress. Please don't paddle me. Please?" I thought about the riding crop. My voice was still shaky.

"When I come back, if you've been good, we will make a baby." She was smiling widely. Her contagious smile spread quickly to me.

"Thank you, Mistress. That would be lovely." My limp cock found some leftover inspiration and began to stir. She extended a hand and stroked me slowly.

"This little guy will be put to very good use," she cooed. I managed a smile. "And later on, I have a very special surprise, the final part of your two-part discipline."

I opened my mouth in shock but refused to ask a question that would only anger her. I continued to force my silly smile. If she thought I was sassing her, she would grab me by the ear, throw me onto the bed, and whip me for a very long time.

"Now off to the corner with you." She grinned, proud of the fine work she'd done on my bottom. "I'll be back."

The corner time passed quickly. I dared not touch my backside, as much as I'd wanted to rub it. Mistress Debi returned wearing a black Teddy. Instead of the dominatrix's heels, she was barefoot. Instead of punishment implements, in her hands were a tray with crackers and two glasses of what looked to be wine. She excused me from the corner and I met her on the bed.

Over the next hour, we made love twice. Each time, I gazed into eyes that seemed to control my orgasms. I came on her command. "Cum, cum now," she said. And semen flowed out of me and into her like a river of life.

Something far away, an inaudible voice from somewhere, as if originating in a distant part of another universe, some unseen knowledge reservoir, assured me she would conceive.

It would later prove right.

"I love you, Mistress Debi."

"I love you, too."

"Thank you also for permitting me to become a daddy again."

As if by the throwing of a switch, my wife returned to her dominating persona. Her voice changed. Gone was the pleasantness of love. "For the second phase of your punishment. Mistress Melissa is coming over for dinner. I expect you to be on your best behavior."

"But, but—"

"You know my sister expects nothing less than perfection, Raymond, and if you disappoint her, I guarantee your next whipping will be far worse." Then she gave me a chilly warning I would remember for some time. "She knows about our punishment sessions and has been begging me to let her whip you. Disappoint her in the least and I'll march you right back in here and turn her loose on you. You know, spare the belt, spoil the hubby? It works for the brother-in-law, too."

I was deflated. "Yes, Mistress Debi. I will obey."

She touched her index finger to her lips as if searching for an idea. "You will serve us in the nude tonight."

"What?"

"Ahem."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please forgive me."

She looked at me as though she'd grown so very tired of explaining herself. "You are forgiven. This time."

"Thank you, Mistress. What was that about service in the nude, Mistress?"

"You heard me. You will be given chores to do in the nude for me and Mistress Melissa."

"But, Mistress Debi. Nude? In front of your sister?"

"That's right. She's excited to see the man you've become." She reached a hand around and patted my bottom, a gesture that was reminiscent of a spanking motion. "You won't disappoint us now, will you?"

"No."

"No, what?"

"No, Mistress Debi."

"Besides, I'd like her to see the job her belt did on your bottom."

I was aghast. "Her belt?"

"That's right. It was a present." Her grin was back and now wider than ever. "She wants our reconciliation to succeed. I'm sure it will, aren't you?"

"Yes, Mistress Debi. I'm sure it will."

She gave me a look. "I'm detecting an attitude," she said, arching an eyebrow. My wife needed only the slightest hint of provocation to spank me. She seemed to be itching for any excuse to whip me again.

"No, ma'am."

"I don't think I like your tone. Perhaps I need to whip it out of you."

Terror gripped me. "No, Mistress. I'll behave, I promise."

She ordered me off the bed and onto the floor, then padded toward the closet and retrieved her riding crop. I shivered at the sight of it and began to cry. My bottom couldn't take even a single lick from that horrible implement.

We were both still nude from our lovemaking, and she was an awesome sight, with her lovely 34C boobs and her riding crop in hand. I was completely at her mercy. Any attempt at grabbing my clothes and dashing downstairs and outside to safety would only provide a brief escape against her wicked, flailing crop.

She advanced toward me.

"Kneel before me, Raymond."

Trembling and sniffling, I complied without a sound. With my face low to the ground and my bottom in the air once again, she towered over me. I craned my neck to look upward.

"Face down."

I touched my forehead to the carpet. She slid a foot near my face.

"Make love to my toes. Use your tongue."

Expecting the crop to begin striking me, I kissed her great toe and her instep, followed by each of her smaller toes.

She sighed in disgust. I heard the crop whoosh through the air and steeled myself for a shower of pain. But my wife had swung only at air. That swing had been for practice.

"Do it with verve, Raymond. Make love to my foot. I want to feel passion. Convince me not to punish you with my crop. You have no idea how much I enjoy seeing your tears."

I put more feeling into my kisses, alternately licking and kissing the tops of her toes, even pretending as though I were kissing her mouth. I worked my tongue in between her toes, spending time making love to each one.

"Let me make this easier for you," she said, raising her toes upward for me. "There. Keep at it."

Now I was better able to suck each toe individually, which I did, twirling my tongue around and between each toe. I made a mess with my saliva, but at least her toes were clean.

I again heard the clicking of her iPhone's camera.

"Now suck each one. Hard. There, good. Mm, yes." More clicking. "Pretend they're candy. Lick the bottoms of my toes. Good. More. Yes, yes. I should have you do the other one, but we'll have to continue this later. I'm getting horny. You've done a good job indeed." Her smile was back. "You have redeemed yourself and avoided my riding crop. For now."

I sighed openly. "Thank you, Mistress. Thank you."

"Arise, Raymond."

I got to my feet. The camera was in one hand, riding crop in the other.

Eying my erect cock, she said, "Oh, someone seems to have enjoyed that quite a bit." Another snapshot, then another and another. She was grinning as she recorded the proud state of my penis. I dared not move.

"Enough," she said. "I'm going to shower. You may shower after I do. You are to remain nude for my sister who should be here shortly." Eying my cock, "It's a shame to waste that." She snapped one last picture of my naked front and smiled.

"Yes, Mistress."

"I'll send these off to my sister."

"You're sending her the pictures??"

She glared at me. "Yes. Do you have a problem with that? Perhaps we need to continue our discussion?"

"No, Mistress Debi. I'm sorry. Forgive me, please."

"It's no problem at all, dear." She grinned. "Not for me, anyway."

"Please forgive me, Mistress. I won't question you again."

"You'd better not. Now, get downstairs and set the table before I change my mind. If you knew how to cook, I'd have you do that. I'll just have something delivered," she said, fresh disgust in in her voice.

"Yes, Mistress. I will obey."

She smiled. "Obedience is a good thing."

I smiled, too. "Yes, Mistress. Very good."

Melissa wore a black shoulderless dress that was slit up the sides, and four-inch open-toed heels. Her eyes sparkled at the first-ever sight of my naked body. I was mortified, but I knew that if I showed any such emotion, my wife would whip me senseless in front of her sister before handing the belt to Mistress Melissa. The thought of my sister-in-law whipping me filled me with dread.

After dinner, I cleaned the table and did the dishes, in the nude, and served the ladies coffee and cheesecake, careful not to become erect in front of anyone but my wife. Who knows how she'd respond to that? Later, my wife ordered me into the bedroom where I waited kneeling at the foot of the bed. She and Mistress Melissa entered the room a short time later. The women both wore matching open-toed heels, black and seductive. They were cheery and lighthearted, as If they'd imbibed. Knowing my wife might be newly pregnant, Debi would not be drinking after tonight, at least not until we received her EPT results, results I knew would be positive.

"Watch this, Melissa. Ahem. Raymond?"

"Yes, Mistress Debi?"

"Bow before me and request permission for the privilege of worshiping my feet."

"Yes, Mistress Debi." I knelt before the women. "I humbly request permission to worship your feet."

"Permission granted."

"Thank you, Mistress Debi." I slid her heels off gently and placed them aside. Under Melissa's admiring eyes, I used my tongue to tend to both of my wife's lovely feet, all ten toes, arches, heels, bottoms, ankles. I took my time, careful not to leave any skin unlicked. Nothing from her shins to the tips of her toes went unworshiped. As always, I paid particular attention to her toes, suckling each one in its entirety.