Chapter 17
Gradually, Sandra and Steven drifted away from their old circle of swinging friends, surprised and delighted at finding that their life together was a complete and satisfying one.
From time to time, as much out of loyalty and friendship as anything else, they indulged in an evening of spanking and sex with Anita and Bruce, but they rarely attended sex parties and never held any in their home.
They enjoyed six years of honeymoon happiness together and then one day a man came to the door to tell her that Steven had suffered a heart attack at his desk and died before anything could be done.
Her eyes went out of focus as she turned and walked away from the man.
When the news of Steven's death appeared in the morning paper the next day, Anita and Bruce rushed to Sandra's home and found her lying fully clothed on her bed in a state of shock. They summoned their doctor who arrived within minutes.
Sandra recovered and went to live with her two closest friends while she recuperated. It was a slow process, but Anita and Bruce helped a lot and in time, Sandra learned to thank fate for the years of joy she had been granted with Steven.
Her hosts carefully avoided any mention or act of sex, but in time, the urge to be spanked returned. It was the old pattern from her childhood, in order to be loved, she had to be spanked.
She and Anita were alone in the house at the time, Bruce not due back from his office for a couple of hours.
"Do you want me to spank you now, dear, or shall we wait until Bruce gets home to do it for you?" Anita asked.
"You do it. I've waited too long already."
Together they went to Anita's bedroom and stripped except for garter belts and nylons. Anita sat on an armless chair and Sandra draped her trembling body across the woman's thighs. Holding her in position, Anita scolded her as she fondled the waiting cheeks, then she began spanking them, her hand slapping hard, keeping Sandra's lovely behind in motion, setting exciting fires as the young woman cried and kicked her legs, the fire of the smacking changing form as it moved into her crotch and became wild desire.
Sensing that the spanking was excellent therapy for her friend, Anita went on spanking much longer than she normally would have, making each slap of her hand hard, completely covering both buttocks as well as a portion of Sandra's smooth right hip.
"There, you naughty girl," Anita said with the tone of a scolding mother, "your bum has been nicely warmed for you. Have you had enough to learn a lesson?"
"Oh yes, Mummy, yes, I'll be a good girl. Oh my bum, my poor bum is so hot."
"Yes, dear, Mummy knows. Come to the bed now and I'll make it all better for you."
Sobbing, her buttocks flashing redly, Sandra allowed herself to be led to the bed where she lay on her tummy while the woman massaged and kissed her wildly tingling nether cheeks for a while, her touch as tender as her kiss.
"There now," Anita cooed, "does Mummy's little girl feel better now?"
"Oh yes, Mummy, my bum is nice and hot and tingly."
"That's nice, dear. How is your pretty little cunty?"
"Oh, Mummy, it's hot and tingly too. It's so hot."
"Shall Mummy turn her little girl over and suck it for you, darling?"
"Oh yes, Mummy . . . suck my cunt. . . suck it and lick it and make me come in my cunt," she panted as she rolled onto her back and threw her legs wide apart.
Anita went down on her and lapped her, tenderly, until the passion that had been pent up within Sandra since the death of her husband, exploded with a force that was almost frightening.
"Oh shit," she panted, later, "that one was much too strong, it actually hurt."
"I know, dear, but it took away all the rough edges. Lie back and I'll give you another one, it will feel beautiful."
Sighing, Sandra surrendered her naked body to the woman's mouth and tongue again. After only a brief lapping, Sandra climaxed again and it was a beautiful one, just as Anita had promised.
Telling her friend that she wanted to rest, Sandra went to her own room, unaccountably depressed, unable to understand why the post-spanking ecstasy refused to appear.
The next day, thanking Anita and Bruce for all their help, Sandra returned to her own home, ready, she hoped, to adjust to her life as a widow, to treasure her precious memories of life with her husband, but to carve out a new life for herself. At twenty-four, she told herself, firmly, she was much too young to live on memories alone.
Less than a week later, Sandra woke one morning to find that her mind had accepted a visitor, the old urge for spanking. For a while she tried to ignore the urge, but it was not long before she faced the fact that it was not going to permit that.
She thought of phoning Anita and telling her of her need, but for some reason she couldn't understand, she couldn't bring herself to do it.
She told herself that more than just being willing to spank her, Anita would be delighted since she enjoyed giving a spanking as much as Sandra enjoyed receiving one. But it didn't work.
Going to the dresser, she opened the cedar box and picked up the old brush, running the smooth back of it over the palm of her left hand. Excitement causing her to tremble, she put the brush behind her and rubbed the exciting surface over her right buttock. Instinctively, she slapped the cheek hard and it stung. Twisting her neck as she looked into the mirror, she saw the bright, hot patch of red on her white cheek.
Sandra slapped again and again, then changed the brush to her left hand and discovered to her dismay that she was not very efficient at spanking herself left-handed. After a few clumsy smacks, she resumed spanking her right buttock with the brush in her right hand.
The sting was there, not as much as it would be if some other hand held the brush, but enough so that it should have been thrilling for her. But it wasn't. There was some excitement in the auto-spanking, but a minor degree only.
She ran to the telephone and before Anita could answer she was crying. Fighting back her tears she told her friend of her need. Within five minutes of her call, Anita arrived at the front door. Nude, the brush in her right hand, Sandra admitted her friend.
"Sandra," the woman scolded, "how often have I told you not to answer the door in the nude. I can see you need a spanking to teach you to remember to behave like a lady."
The game was on then as Sandra, sobbing, handed the brush to the woman and promised she would not be a bad girl again. She was still sobbing promises as they walked into the bedroom where Anita took her dress off and sat on the chair.
Anita spanked until Sandra was confident that both her nether cheeks must have been blistered, then when she finally stopped and put the precious brush down carefully, the two went to the bed where, after ministering to Sandra's hot behind, she rolled her over and performed cunnilingus on the sobbing woman until orgasm came.
While Sandra lay resting, the woman got up and took her bra and panties off, pausing as she stood staring at Sandra's lush, naked body to fondle her own breasts with both hands.
After a little while, one hand fell to her crotch and began stroking there.
"I'm sorry, Anita," Sandra said, reaching for her, "I didn't mean to be selfish. Come, darling and let me suck your sweet cunt for you."
Anita got onto the bed eagerly, but instead of lying back to receive cunnilingus, moved into an end-to-end embrace with tVie younger one for mutual cunnilingus.
When they were finished, they sat and chatted for a while, then Anita got up and dressed, telling Sandra that she had work to do before meeting Bruce in town to have lunch with him.
She invited her along, but Sandra declined with thanks.
As soon as she was alone in the house, Sandra felt her sense of well-being vanish and black despair moved in to replace it. Sitting naked on her bed, she felt shame at being, as she saw it, abnormal. When she couldn't fight it off, she dressed and went out for a walk and hoped she could get her mind off the despair she felt.
It was fate's day to be unkind, she discovered, when she passed the church a few blocks from her home. There, a laughing, noisy crowd congregated on the steps, shouting to the bride and groom who ran through a shower of rice and confetti.
Sandra stood on the sidewalk as though frozen as the couple came closer to her. The bride was young and beautiful, the groom was a good-looking young man. Sandra found herself wondering if the bride was a virgin, nervously awaiting her first act of sex.
Only when she felt her tears begin to flow was Sandra able to walk. She walked fast until she was away from the bridal group, then went home, closing the door firmly behind her as though to keep out something frightening which had followed her all the way home from the church.
But it penetrated the door and showed itself to be the happy, love-filled faces of the bridal couple. Sandra understood then what was bothering her. They were happy, normal people, she saw herself as not at all normal, as abnormal as she was unhappy.
They would go away on a honeymoon, explore each other's bodies and minds and hearts, they would come back and begin their life together, they would have children, there would be a loving family unit, all things that were denied her in the life she had chosen or had been chosen for her, a life in which she could receive and understand love only with the pain of beatings.
Sandra remained gloomy for the next few days. And then she woke one morning feeling the urge to be spanked. She thought first of Anita, but once again tried to avoid going to her old friend, not understanding why.
She made coffee and tried to take her mind off her desire by reading the morning paper. Newspapers are rarely cheering in nature though, and that one was no exception.
At least it wasn't, until she saw an ad placed by a church group devoted to aiding the poor of the city and especially the unemployed. It asked prospective employers to call them if they had work available even if only for one day.
Ignoring her coffee, Sandra hurried to the phone and called the listed number. A woman with a pleasant voice assured her that they had many men on their list who would be pleased to accept a day's work.
Wildly excited, she went from the phone to the bathroom where she showered carefully, then dressed, selecting her most exotic lingerie. There was no thought then of shame or guilt, there was only joy and desire and thrilling excitement in anticipation of being spanked by a strange man, of being abused and humiliated and punished.
Ready, there was nothing to do then but wait until the man arrived. At last, she saw him come up the walk to the side door. He appeared to be in his forties, was dressed in clean jeans and a work shirt. He had a good build and while he was less than handsome, he was good enough looking to be acceptable.
She admitted the man and brought him to the kitchen where she poured coffee for the two of them. His eyes went wide with surprise when she offered him twenty-five dollars for a few chores around the house, and told him she would give him a bonus if he performed them well.
But that shock was nothing compared to the one he received when he asked just what chores there were to be done.
"I want you to scold me as you would a naughty girl, then make me undress, feel me all over, humiliate and shame me, call me filthy names, then take me over your lap after you've stripped naked, and give me a spanking."
"I can't believe it," he told her.
"You better believe it. Would you mind earning twenty-five dollars or more that way? And oh yes, after my spanking, you may take your choice, either fuck me or make me suck your cock. I'd appreciate it if you would go down on me and suck my cunt until I come."
"Chrissakes, you really mean it, but why pay me for it? Any man in his right mind would pay to be allowed to do all that to you."
"Don't ask questions. Will you do it or won't you?" As though to influence his decision, Sandra leaned against the table and pulled the hem of her dress over the tops of her nylons. "I have lovely thighs, but the rest of me is even better. Do you want it or not?"
"Jeez, do I ever! When do you want me to get started?"
"Just as soon as we've gone over the details of it, how I want it done and all that."
She told him what she wanted then and watched a stirring in the front of his pants where the form of his erect penis bulged.
"Damn," he exploded when she had told him all in detail, "all these years I thought I was plain unlucky. Now I see I was just savin' up all my luck for today. Let's go."
Without a word, she turned and walked from the kitchen, the man following. As she walked to her bedroom, her knees became so weak with excitement that she wasn't sure they would support her. They did, just.
"Take all your clothes off now," she told him, "and try to be the boss, don't make me tell you what to do."
He undressed hurriedly, tossing his clothes away as though he never wanted to see them again. His penis leaped into view, big and hard and strong-looking, the hairy sac below, big and looking full as it swayed between his thighs.
"Yeah," he said, boastfully, "take a good look at my cock and think about how it's gonna feel when I ram it up your cunt then pull it out and stick it in your mouth to be sucked off. Now get outta that dress and let me have a look at you in your frilly little things." Making little whining sounds, Sandra unfastened the back of her dress, then pulled it off. He gave a long, low whistle and she saw his big penis twitch.
He reached for her and his big hands were rough on her bra and panties. When she complained of that, he slapped her behind hard and told her to shut up. He bruised her thighs as he pushed a hand between them to grab at the crotch of her panties.
As he became rougher, she feared he had lost all control and would kill her. Instead of frightening her, the thought only heightened her excitement as she held and nourished it.
Instead of unhooking her bra, he tore the hooks out of it, jerked it off her arms and tossed it away. "Jeez," he panted, "look at them fucking tits." He grabbed at them hurting her as he rubbed and squeezed, roughly.
He was equally rough as he jerked her panties off and grabbed a buttock on one hand while probing in her crotch with the other.
"So you like having that pretty ass spanked, do you? Well that's just fine with me. I spanked all my kids right until they left home and I loved it, especially my girls. I just loved watching them hot asses wiggle while I smacked them like I'm gonna smack yours now." Grabbing her around the waist, he dragged her roughly to the chair, sat on it, then pulled her sprawling across his lap. As the first hard spank exploded on her behind, a cry broke from Sandra, the first of many that were to follow. She had been spanked and strapped many times by many persons, but none had ever inflicted such pain as his big, hard hand came down again and again.
"This is the way I spanked my girls," he panted, "and I always wanted to fuck them but I couldn't. I had to jerk myself off in the John, after, but I'll fuck you and you'll suck my cock too after I really burn your pretty ass."
And burn it he did, with slap after stinging slap until Sandra feared she was going to faint. And then, without warning, he stopped spanking, picked her up and carried her easily, dumping her roughly on the bed and getting on it behind her.
He parted her legs as roughly as he did everything else and he was not gentle as he rammed the full length of his penis into her, hurting her again. He rode with the fury of a wild stallion, then, without warning, he pulled his penis out of her and she looked up into his grinning, evil face.
"Come and suck it, baby," he told her. "When I spanked my girls I always wanted to make them do it, but I couldn't. Now I can. Suck, baby, suck or I'm gonna beat that beautiful ass right off of you."
Turning quickly, Sandra caught his wet penis in one hand, squeezed it, then pushed it into her mouth. Holding his penis with one hand, she clutched a hard buttock with the other and held on as her mouth went back and forth over his wet, hard penis, sucking him in a way that made him pant and groan.
"Start swallowing, baby, here I come. Don't let a drop spill out or I'll tear your ass to ribbons."
She didn't allow a drop to spill, but she had to swallow fast to keep up with the flow of his semen as he continued to spurt strongly for a long time. When he pulled his spent organ away from her, groaning and breathing hard, she got off the bed and told him to get dressed.
"Look, I'm sorry if I ... " "Don't apologize, you were good, very good. Now get dressed and leave, I want to be alone."
While he dressed, she went to her purse and took fifty dollars out of it. When he was dressed, Sandra gave it to him. He blinked in surprise when he saw how big a tip she had given him. She almost pushed him out of the room and out of the house. Checking her buttocks in the mirror, she saw bruises there that she knew would remain ugly for days, but she didn't care about them. He had hurt her and terrified her and it had filled the need that had been burning so strongly.
That need stayed filled for more than a week and then she phoned the agency again, asking for a Negro laborer. He wasn't as rough as the first man, but he spanked her hard and later, as she performed the act of fellatio he demanded, because she had told him she wanted him to demand it, she thrilled at what she saw as a new dimension of debasement.
But after the Negro, as it had been after the first hired man, shame and guilt moved in to diminish and destroy the sexual pleasure she had known. Her joy, she saw, was destined to be of a transitory nature, a fire that burned hotly, in her buttocks and whole being while it lasted, then there was nothing left, only ashes, cold and wet and clammy.
She visited a number of psychiatrists after that, but always the pattern was the same. Driven by a fear that her abnormality, as she considered it to be, would destroy her, she would seek help, but before she could keep her second appointment, she would hire another man to beat her and filled with shame and despair, would not show up for the next appointment.
I wish I could tell you the end of the story in this case, but that isn't possible since fate and Sandra have not written it yet.
Still, for those who feel that no ending is better than a sad ending, perhaps it is best that we do not yet know how the story will end for her. Nothing about her points to a possibility of a happy ending. She has drifted away even from Anita and Bruce, brushing off their friendship, refusing to allow them to keep it alive.
In the true pattern of the masochist, she seems to have set out on a program of self-destruction and to be pursuing it passionately.
Looking back over the story of her life, we can see that she was not the architect of her destruction, fate handled that chore for her. We are all in many respects victims of fate, but Sandra is more so than most.
Perhaps the most optimistic prognostication I can make at this stage of Sandra's life is that miracles and accidents do happen from time to time. Hopefully, fate will decide to give Sandra one more break, one more chance to get her life into order.
If you meet one of the world's Sandras, there is not much you can do for her, probably, except, try to understand. Perhaps in doing that, you will do much.