Chapter 1
Have you ever been going along in your life, doing pretty much as normal and suddenly your whole life changed? Well, mine did. I even know the exact moment it changed.
5:25 PM, Monday, April 22, 1985.
I'm sure that that date will not ring a bell in anyone's mind as being a note worthy date. The evening news was fairly normal. No major national or international catastrophes occurred, at least that I'm aware of.
So what makes that day so notable for me, you might ask. Well it changed my whole life. To that of a slave to my husband.
I was born Beverley Jane Williamson.
I was the third child of James and Martha Williamson of Manchester, Oregon. My two older brothers Jimmy, five years old, and Mark, three years old, were anything but delighted at my arrival but they had little choice in accepting me and I settled in like any new born in upper middle class America.
I can't honestly say that I remember all that much of my early childhood but it must have been normal in all ways.
But one of my first memories concerns my brothers and me.
We were free to play one summer day and I had followed them into the hills behind our house.
Naturally twelve year old and ten year old boys did not welcome their seven year old sister, but I followed the nevertheless.
After trying to loose me for over a half an hour they finally consented to having me with them and we made our way to a small lake in the hills. They planned to fish. I planned to be with them.
Two hours of lines dangling in the water produced no fish and Jimmy and Mark became frustrated. I don't think my splashing my feet in the water helped matters much either.
They repeatedly told me to leave and I continued to refuse. I informed them that I was staying. Well, to make a long story short they were anything but happy about my presence.
It seems that they had wanted time alone to discuss girls and they couldn't do it with me there.
I kept insisting that I could tell them what they wanted to know. After all I was a girl, wasn't I?
"You're a baby, Bev. We're talking about women."
"I'm the same as a woman," I insisted. "I'm just a bit smaller, but I have everything they do."
That comment seemed to spark an interest in them.
They looked at me differently than they ever had and for several minutes they carried on a whispered conversation.
Mark kept saying no, but whatever they were talking about, Jimmy insisted. The next I knew they had tackled me to the ground.
I fought them for a while but when Jimmy said that if I didn't cooperate I could never be with them again. So I asked, "Well, what do you want?"
"We wanta see you."
"You see now unless you're blind."
"No. Really see you, Bev. We want to see how a woman looks."
"You know what women look like Jimmy. Heavens, you've seen enough of them around. There's me, mom, Mrs... "
"No dummy. We want to see what they look like without any clothes on. We want to see a pussy."
"A what?"
"A pussy. You know. That thing between your legs."
"Oh. Ah... why?"
"Because girls are build different than boys, asshole."
"Well you don't have to get mean about it. If all you want is to look, then look."
I still remember how I untangled myself from them and very calmly took off my clothes. It didn't take all that long. I was only wearing cut-offs, a tank top, panties and tennis shoes.
But I'll never forget how they couldn't seem to take their eyes off me. I felt proud to show my body to my brothers and they seemed to appreciate it too.
Naturally I didn't have any breasts at age seven but they were more concerned about what I had between my legs anyway.
My little pink pussy lips felt like their eyes were burning holes in it but I did want to play with them so I remained still as their eyes stared at me.
"Pull your pussy lips apart, Bev. Let us see what's inside."
I didn't think that was such an unusual request so I used my fingers and did as Jimmy asked. But it seem weird for my two brothers to be kneeling at my feet.
It was almost like they were worshipping me or something and I liked that feeling.
"Can we touch you?" Jimmy was breathing kind of funny and I liked the idea of them finally paying attention to me. So I said, "Sure. I don't care."
They didn't waist any time in using their own hands on my pussy.
And that was what I remembered the most.
It felt totally different when they touched me than went I did it myself. And I liked the feeling.
Jimmy and Mark did everything but turn my pussy inside out as they got their first female anatomy lesson.
Several times they were so involved that they hurt me but when I told them, they stopped.
Once when Jimmy tried to push his finger in my tiny whole I screamed and he stopped. He even apologized.
And that was really weird for my oldest brother. He never apologized to me for anything. I quickly forgave him and they continued to poke and prod.
Finally remembering that they said girls and boys looked different, I asked to see them.
Well, that didn't take much persuading. In a flash their jeans were on the ground and I got my first look at the difference.
Mark looked funny but Jimmy looked impressive. His cock, he named it that, was much bigger than Mark's. And I got my first boy anatomy lesson when Jimmy said his was bigger because he had a hard-on.
Not much else happened that day at the lake. We played the typical doctor games with each other until all were sure to remember the differences between the sexes. But we continued to play it over the years.
By the time I was twelve, Jimmy was seventeen and Mark was fifteen there were very major differences.
I had tits, not all that big understand, but I had them nevertheless and they were impressed by touching them.
Both of them had raging hard-ons. All of us had grown over the years, we were no longer bashful in each other's company, and when they both masturbated to splash their white spunk onto the ground I was very impressed.
By the time I was fourteen we stopped playing doctor. It wasn't so much because of us as it was what we knew about society. Each time it became more and more difficult not to go all the way and incest was a definite no-no. Besides, by then both of them had girl friends and neither made any effort to keep me in the dark about how they fucked their girl friends. I got quite an education from my brothers and I used that education to my advantage.
By fifteen I was a knockout and knew it. And I was one hell of a tease. I well knew about boys. Knew what made them hot and bothered. And I loved doing everything in my power to make them just as hot as I could. But I refused to go all the way. Maybe it was my middle class upbringing, I don't know. I was more than willing to let my dates cop a feel, several in fact, but I drew the line at fucking.
By sixteen I had the guys panting at my heels. My long blond hair hung in full waves to the middle of my back. My firm, upstanding C tits bounced upon my no bra chest with every step I took. And my full hips shimmied from side to side. My deep green eyes didn't miss any pair of jeans that had a wiggling lump pressed into the zipper. I enjoyed my control over the boys and wasn't about to give it up for a five minute fuck. No, not me. I knew the rumors around school. As soon as a girl gave in she was fair game. Sure she got dates, but only so they could fuck her.
Not me. I kept control over them because I didn't give in.
By my freshman year in college it was getting more and more difficult to please myself with only my fingers. I had an itch that just wouldn't quit but my determination held fast and I kept my cherry and my reputation intact.
But my sophomore year saw the beginning of my downfall. Stephen came into my life.
And to make another long story short, I went ape shit over Stephen. I wanted him and set out to get him.
Stephen was a grad student working on his Ph.D. in biochemistry. He was a hunk and a half. Six six, two twenty, black hair, blue eyes, quiet hut strong. Two weeks after discovering him we had our first date and I was even more convinced that we were made for each other.
I welcomed his maturity and quiet authority. It was a good change from the other guys that I could control with a shake of my tits.
But Stephen didn't take advantage of his strengths. He was sure enough of himself that he didn't have to flaunt his strengths and he treated me like a lady. Not just a woman, hut a lady.
He opened doors, stood when I entered a room and all the other gentleman things that so many men had forgotten. We kissed. We didn't grab. He embraced me, he didn't attack. He accepted my limitations and I accepted his gentle control over me.
At the end of the school year we married. After nineteen years of virginity I almost attacked him to rid myself of my damned cherry on our wedding night.
Stephen gave no objections. And for our two week honeymoon we fucked like a couple of rabbits determined to populate the world on our own.
I loved sex, in any form, in any position, in any setting. I had years to make up for and did a damned good job in catching up in a short time.
Then it was time to settle into married life. I think I adjusted quiet well. Stephen resumed his job and I took to my new life as homemaker with astonishing results. On January 23, 1985 I gave birth to our son and my world suddenly changed. A week out of the hospital I was a wreck. It seemed that all I did was change diapers, wash diapers, feed Jason, change Jason, burp Jason, bathe Jason, change Jason's bedding, cook meals and then do some more cleaning. I didn't even have energy to regain my former shape. The extra twenty pounds I hadn't lost after his birth remained on me and made me even more tired and irritable.
In short I became a bitch. At first Stephen was more than understanding but as the weeks passed and I became worse he started to change too. He became more and more the complaining husband. We argued. We snapped at each other. Stephen wasn't helping. I was a lazy slut. He complained too much. I was fat. He was unsympathetic. I was a bitchy shrew. And back and forth our insults flew.
Things came to a head on that fateful April 22.
The whole day had been a total disaster.
The washer over flowed when I washed the diapers. The garbage disposal ate a spoon. Jason cried the entire day, nothing pleased him until finally he passed out from sheer exhaustion.
I spent a half an hour extracting one of his toys out of the vacuum then didn't have the energy to continue with the task.
The dishes were still in the sink, the dirty laundry on the floor and the house in total chaos when Stephen walked in the door.
The pressures had built too long. They needed an outlet.
I was standing at the kitchen sink, trying to find enough space to peel some potatoes around the dirty dishes.
My hair was a stringy mess. I still wore my thin robe. I had never gotten around to dressing.
I was surrounded by jars of opened baby food that I had tried to make Jason happy with. And at that moment Stephen walked in.
He didn't say a word but I could tell that he was anything but happy about his reception. His eyes traveled over the mess. He turned and stalked out of the kitchen.
I heard a clank in the hallway and knew that the vacuum had just received a sudden kick. His feet thumped up the stairs.
I finally managed to clear enough space to peel some potatoes for a meal that would be served late.
Four potatoes were minus skins when I heard him come back down. A rustling of newspapers told me that he had entered the living room.
Another potato peeled and he was clanging a spoon into a bowl, probably the one that I hadn't bothered to pick up off the floor.
Then I felt him standing in the doorway.
I could feel his eyes boring into me and suddenly I began to feel guilty. It was a lousy welcome home. Me and the house were a mess. He did deserve better.
But I never got a chance to admit to my feelings on the matter.
I placed the knife on the counter and turned to face him with my apology. It never left my mouth.
His hand connected with my mouth before I could utter a single syllable.
And it wasn't a gently tap either.
My head snapped sideways with the blow and my cheek burned with his imprint. I didn't know what to do.
I stood there like a zombie and stared at him. He was seething.
"Just what in the hell have you been doing all day, Bev? I've seen better looking skid row dumps than this place looks. Look at the time."
He grabbed my head and turn it to face the clock. 5:25. "Dinner is suppose to be on the table in five minutes and the stove isn't even warm, let alone the food cooked. You need a pole vault to get across the living room. The kitchen looks like a pig sty. And you look like shit. Just what the hell happened to the woman I married?"
I silently agreed that he had cause to complain, but I never got a chance to say it as in the next instance he grabbed the front of my robe and literally tore it off my body.
"Look at you. Really look at yourself, Bev? Are you happy with how you look? I can sure as hell tell you that I'm not. And it is about time that I make you realize it."
He grabbed a handful of my dirty, stringy hair and started pulling me toward the living room.
"No, on second thought, it is way past the time. If you are going to act like a child, I'll treat you like one starting now."
He sat down on a chair, complete with more newspapers piled on it, and jerked me across his lap.
I finally found my voice. "What are you doing?"
"I, my dear wife, am going to give you a spanking."
With those words ringing in my ears his hand landed on my bare butt.
It was a long way from a love tap. It hurt.
"Something that is long over due. I have tried to be patient but no more."
His hand landed again.
"You look like a fat pig. This house looks like your pig sty," the third blow landed, "and I'm not going to take it any more."
"I'mmm I'm sorry, Stephen."
"You should be." He struck my ass again.
I was all confused. My world had suddenly gone haywire.
I was across my husband's lap getting a damned spanking. The first in my memory.
My ass hurt. My mind refused to work. My voice got caught in my throat. And his hand kept descending on my tush. "I... I said I'mmm sorry."
"Just shut up, Bev. Don't say another damned word. I'll stop went I'm good and ready and not before. And if you say a word, just one, I'll do it even longer."
His hand continued to land with accuracy.
I was afraid to say anything. I could tell by the tone of his voice that he was dead serous.
T tried to hold still thinking that it would be over that much sooner. But as he showed no signs of stopping I could hold still no longer. My ass felt like it was on fire.
For the first time I tried to get away. I kicked my legs and tried to bring my hands to my aching ass.
He trapped my legs with one of his and my arms with his non-spanking hand. The blows landed even harder.
I couldn't help it any more, I started to cry. From the pain, from the humiliation, from my guilt and from my helplessness. Suddenly I plain and simple stopped struggling.
I knew it would do no good. I only moved as my body reacted to the pain. I no longer fought his control over me as I realized he was justified in treating like he was.
I did deserve it and I would damned well accept it like an adult.
I laid across his lap in total submission and accepted his decision to spank me.
As blow after blow connected viciously with my hot ass as I laid there, something very subtle began to happen. His hand became less punishing and as that thought registered in my brain two others came quickly behind it-his cock was hard beneath me and I suddenly noticed that my cunt was soaking wet with arousal.
My ass was anything but comfortable. The lighter blows still hurt like hell but I no longer cared about the pain.
I was too caught up in the fact that I was horny as hell and so was Stephen.
Several more times his hand landed, each getting softer and softer until finally he stopped. Then instead of hitting my ass, his hand was caressing me and even that hurt but I wasn't about to object.
I laid there totally passive, trying to understand myself, as Stephen's hand worked its way between my blistered cheeks.
When his fingertip touched my swamped cunt I lost all control, all shame of my response to the spanking and uttered my first words in a very shaky voice.
"Fffff... fuck me... ooohh God, Stephen... please fuck me now."
As he lifted me off his lap and turned me around to face him, I didn't care about anything but my pleading cunt.
"Bev?" His face showed total confusion.
I was anything but confused. I knew what I wanted. I wanted his cock in me NOW.
"Pleassse fuckk me. I'm horny, you're hard. Fuck me, please."
Stephen dropped his eyes to his lap and seemed honestly surprised by the rigid lump inside his pants.
A moment later the confused man had totally vanished, never to reappear again in our lives. He stood up and began to unzip his pants.
"Get on the floor on your hands and knees, Bev, and be quick about it."
I didn't need to be told twice and the thought of him pounding away at my battered ass made me move that much faster.
"Yes, fuck me from behind. Fuck my lazy ass good and proper."
After that neither of us wasted much energy on words. My ass was no more than in the air than Stephen was kneeling behind it. A second later a very solid cock was parting my saturated lips and sinking into me with all the force I could have asked for.
And when he pressed into my hot ass my cunt clamped down so hard I thought it would never give up its prize. Oh Holy Mary, Mother of God it was fantastic.
He continued to spank my ass with every inward stroke and I loved every blessed contact.
We grunted. We groaned. We moaned in satisfaction. We slammed into each other like we were bent on destroying each other. But all we really wanted to destroy was the time it took us to come. To come like never before in our lives.
Gurgled words of, "Ah damn," "Deeper," "Take that," and "Harder," were the only ones that were recognizable as we sought the ultimate goal of sexual fulfillment. And then it finally arrived for both us.
We were coming as our bodies shook, shivered,' grasped, pumped and slowly came to a halt and we fell to the floor.
Eons passed before we could do more than breath. But then, like all things come in their time, we returned to reality.
"You know, Bev, this fuck doesn't change a thing."
"I know and I am truly sorry about how I've been lately. I know I've been a bitch. And you have ever right to complain about my looks and the house. I promise to change. You'll see, Stephen, I'll be just like before."
Stephen rolled over and caressed my breasts as he said, "No, not just like before. From now on I will be the undisputed boss of this family. No more of your subtle assertiveness. No more of your games of trying to get your way. From now on I am boss. Not the boss sometimes, but all the time. If I say clean the house, it had better damned well be clean. And it will be from now on. And you will get rid of that damned weight if I have to beat it off you."
He gave my nipple a squeeze as he added, "But somehow I think that threat has suddenly lost some of its force, hasn't it, Bev?"
What could I say? We both knew the answer. I gave him a tear filled smile and wiggled my ass on the carpet.
"I guess it has."
Then deciding what the hell, I added, "I thought I always enjoyed my power over men, but now I realize it was just a sham to hide my true feelings. I'm sure you won't be surprised to learn that I enjoyed the hell out of my spanking and I will even go farther and say that I want you to be the boss. I'm sure that I'll have minor rebellions in the future, but somehow I no longer think you will let them get out of hand."
"You can bank on it, Bev. And the next order of business is supper. I'm starved."
"Me too."
I did manage to get supper cooked amid the chaos and Stephen even helped as he cleared away and cleaned the table so we would have a place to eat.
When we were done he helped clear the table and even fed Jason as I tackled the mess in the kitchen. Jason tucked in the playpen.
Stephen solved the problem with the washer and I got the laundry going again. By 9:30 Jason was bathed and sound asleep and as I straightened up the bulk of the mess in the living room Stephen sat at the table with notebook and pen.
Then deciding that the rest of the mess could wait until the morning I took a very needed shower.
That done, I felt a thousand times better. As I dried my hair I thought back over the past few months and came to a conclusion that Stephen had been a saint for putting up with as much as he had. And I made a firm resolve that starting bright and early in the morning I would begin to get my life back in order.
Just as I was getting ready to go back downstairs Stephen came into the room.
"Everything is locked up and ready for night, except for me."
He wrapped his arms around me and gave me a hearty squeeze. "Bed sounds wonderful but I have no desire to go to sleep for a while. Can you think of an alternative?"
He leaned into me and as his swollen cock dug into me, I thought of a very good alternative.
After a whole lot of tomfoolery we settled down to an ordinary missionary position but as his hands clamped down on my hefty ass cheeks it became something totally unusual.
My ass was anything but healed and as he dug into it I couldn't help but tighten up, much to Stephen's delight I might add. And to mine.
When we finished Stephen said that there was a list for me on the dinning room table that was self-explanatory, rolled over and instantly went to sleep.
I thought about his comment for a whole two minutes before I too slipped into dreamland.
I was anything but refreshed when Jason woke up for his two o'clock feeding but I managed to crawl out of bed, change him and carry him downstairs to warm up his bottle.
Setting him in his seat I got the bottle ready and as I was waiting for it to warm up I remembered Stephen's last comment and checked out the dinning room table.
Sure enough there was a notepad.
I picked it up and started reading.
A worksheet. A damned order form. Stephen had laid out my entire day: clean house, finish laundry, ironing, he listed specific tasks to be done before he came home.
For a moment I was absolutely steaming but as I worked my way down the list I changed. He was right, I did need to do everything on the list.
Even the exercises he laid out were the ones I had thought about to lose the excess weight I had kept.
Grabbing Jason's bottle I feed him as I looked over the list. I mentally pictured each item on the list as Jason sucked away at his bottle. Yes, they all needed to be done. Several should have been done days ago. Somehow I would get them all done.
When Jason finished I grabbed the sheet of paper to take it to the kitchen and for the first time I noticed that there was writing on the back too.
My first response was 'oh shit more work', but as I began to read I started to laugh.
On the back was, "I wonder how long it took you to turn this page over and see this. A couple of things were not listed on the front. 1. Take Jason to Mrs. Peterson's for the day. 2. I called mom and she will pick him up at 3:00 and take him home for the night, so pack enough clothes and diapers, etc. 3. I will inspect the house when I get home. 4. If it passes, we go out to eat. If it doesn't you will get a paddling with a paddle 25 times for each thing not completed on the list, then you will fix me dinner. 5. After dinner prepare yourself to be ravished. Love Stephen
All feelings of resentment flew out the window.
I was humming a happy tune as I tucked the sleeping Jason in bed the crawled back into mine.
I had a very busy day ahead of me.