The following story may not be for everybody because it entails brutal female domination and humiliation. However, it is a story that some will find useful and educational, and perhaps even titillating. It is a story that explains in graphic detail the methods I used to train my daughter to take her proper place in the world as a member of the dominant species and the methods I used to break and emasculate my own son. The real beauty of my story is the intermeshing of the two processes and the innovative use of my son, and his father, as a training tool for my daughter. While to some, my treatment of the males in my life may seem cruel, particularly the physical and mental abuse heaped upon my son, I prefer to consider it an act of kindness.
I think it is better that my son learned his proper place in life under my tutelage, than under some woman who doesn’t really care for him. This is borne out by the caring and nurturing relationship he has with his current wife. While to some his prancing around in female garb may seem garish, his obsessive obsequiousness may appear unnatural, and the physical abuse he suffers so willingly may make others squirm, he accepts it and welcomes it as the natural order of things. He not only accepts his wife’s natural superiority, he still loves serving me and his sister. In addition to his normal household chores, his wife has graciously allowed us to still use him for house cleaning and menial tasks. Also we still indulge in the physical beatings we loved so much during his youth. In fact I pride myself on my ability to still beat him to a pulp in a fair fight although he now outweighs me by 70 pounds, but I am jumping ahead of myself. Let me first introduce myself and my family, and tell you our story, and you can judge for yourself whether I did the right thing.
As you can probably tell by now, I am a lifelong practitioner of female superiority. Since I was a child, I loved beating up males. In high school I was the first girl to compete on our wrestling team and the first ever in state history to win a state title. I was also the first girl, and one of the few individuals, to ever be disqualified from competition for excessive brutality. Winning was never enough for me, I had to seriously hurt my opponent and humiliate him, and in one match I went a bit too far and broke my opponent’s back with an illegal flip. In college and later years, when I could no longer compete in wrestling, I had to satisfy myself with beating up men in the occasional, unauthorized wrestling, karate, or boxing match or better yet a fight that I was able to provoke at a party, social gathering, or on a date.
By now you are probably thinking I am some butch dyke that is as attractive as a football lineman, but you would be seriously wrong. In actuality I have been blessed with great beauty and a voluptuous body. At 5’9” tall and 130 lbs, I could pass for a beauty queen. However, underneath that sexy veneer are muscles that have been toned by daily workouts and fighting skills learned in hours of wrestling, karate, and boxing classes. It is my beauty and sensuality that causes men to underestimate me and relax when we first tussle, but they quickly and painfully learn the error of their ways. To my great pleasure, it is also my overwhelming femininity that makes the humiliation of losing to me so unbearable and debilitating, and believe me I do use my sexuality to rub men’s noses in their painful defeat. A favorite tactic of mine after beating a man into submission is to either sit on his chest or to stand above him, resting my foot on his face or testicles, while I carefully adjust my makeup or fluff my hair like a helpless bimbo. After a particularly good tussle, I also like to pin their arms underneath my legs, crushing their heads between my thighs, while tweaking their nose, twisting their ears, and taunting them with verbal humiliation.
Beating men up was enough to please me for a few years. Seeing their blood, watching them suffer, and on occasion making them cry was a real turn-on. By my later years in college, though, I sought something more. I achieved this with Henry, my first real slave. Henry was silly enough to not only challenge me to a fight during a date, but he was so cocksure of himself, he said if he lost he would be my servant for the weekend. Needless to say I beat him handily, and when he tried to back out of his promise to be my servant, I beat him some more. In order to teach him a real lesson, I also made him strip and told him he would remain naked the whole weekend. I subsequently used him and abused him beyond his wildest imagination. He waited on me hand and foot, cleaned my apartment till it was spotless, cooked for me, washed dishes, and even gave me baths. I loved every moment of it and was instantly hooked on having men serve me for the rest of my life.
Henry also brought out even more of my sadistic side and taught me how much fun it is to punish males like children. It started unexpectedly when he began balking at the increasing demands I was placing upon him as a servant. On impulse, I dragged him over my knee and started giving him a bare handed spanking. As I spanked him and saw his ass change colors, I became sexually excited and lost control. I began spanking him harder and more rapidly, and could not stop myself until I had completely expended all my energy. By that time, Henry’s ass was swollen and bruised unmercifully and he was blubbering like a baby. We had now firmly defined our relationship and Henry never again challenged my authority that weekend. However, for poor Henry, I had now also found new ways to reach ecstasy. For the rest of that weekend nothing poor Henry did was right. I found fault with everything and found reasons to punish him with every possible household implement I could find. I beat him with belts and hairbrushes, I pummeled him with my hands and feet, and I humiliated him beyond belief. By the end of that weekend Henry belonged to me, body and soul, and I never did housework again. He moved in and became my slave.
The next major turning point of my life was Bruce, but before then, the remainder of my college years was spent with various men who did everything I commanded, but still suffered my penchant for watching men cry, blubber, and grovel in fear. Bruce taught me how to take my belief in female domination to its ultimate. Until Bruce, I still indulged in normal sexual relations with my male slaves, albeit I commanded when and how they would satisfy me. Their penises belonged to me and I used them for my pleasure. Quite often we would fuck until their penises were rubbed raw, but they dared not complain, or worse yet be unable to perform. Typically I was on top and frequently punctuated our sex with a steady staccato of slaps to their face, rising to a crescendo as I reached orgasm. I never wanted them to forget who was in charge and by punishing them as we fucked I made sure sex was not a treat for my slaves. Poor unfortunate Bruce, however, was my first male victim to be literally fucked by me, but the dumb fuck brought it upon himself..
Bruce was my first boyfriend after college. By then I had vowed to cutback on my extracurricular activities and wanted to establish a normal relationship with a man. At 6’4” tall and 250 lbs, Bruce seemed to be a real man who could at least be someone I could respect, rather than the sniveling slobs I had so easily dominated. However, he blew it, and in so doing, taught me that being on top, ruling men was my true calling in life. I seriously tried going straight on our first few dates with Bruce, but then his true male pig nature surfaced and both of us would never be the same again. We had gone back to my apartment after a date, when he made the mistake of pulling out a huge dildo and saying he wanted to add a little spice to our lovemaking, he wanted me to suck it while he fucked me in the ass. His sickness and audacity sent me ballistic and I ordered him out of my apartment. Being the macho pig that he was, though, he refused, called me a bitch, slapped me and knocked me flat on my ass. The rest as they say is history.
I vowed then and there never to let a man do that to me again, and to give Bruce a lesson he would never forget. Without ever taking off my high heels or getting out of my skin tight, sexy dress, I got up and proceeded to wipe the floor with that dumb asshole. He never knew what hit him and never so much as laid a hand on me as I beat the living shit out of him. Using every ounce of my strength, I punched him and pummeled him into submission. Wanting him to know he was totally outclassed, I never pursued my advantage or used any fancy judo flips to subdue him. I would knock him down with devastating punches, let him get up, and knock him down again. I punished him unmercifully, I beat him without missing a beat, until he was begging for mercy and crying for me to stop. However, I just dragged him to his feet and beat him some more. Finally, he tried crawling away from me and I started kicking him and verbally abusing his manhood. It was an unreal scene. Here was this strapping Goliath of a man crawling around the room, bawling like a baby, while a woman half his size prodded him with kicks to his ass and taunted him.
I finally, again, dragged him to his feet pushed him against the wall, and while keeping him upright with one hand clenching his collar, I bitch slapped him until he was almost unconscious. By now he was offering no resistance and I could do anything I wanted to him. Without thinking, and acting instinctively, I let him drop to the floor in a crumpled heap and using my feet, prodded him, and placed him on his back. I then straddled his head and pissed on his face as he trembled in fear and utter humiliation. Letting him lie in my urine, fearfully wondering what I would do next, I took the dildo he had brought with him and strapped it around my hips. His eyes now widened in terrifying anticipation as I bent over him, unstrapped his belt, pulled his pants down, flipped him over on his stomach, and as you have probably guessed, fucked him with his own dildo, over and over and over again till he passed out in pain, shame, and humilaition.
In what I later attribute to divine inspiration, I decided then and there to complete Bruce’s transformation and make him my sissy whore. I hogtied Bruce so he would not be able to escape and went out to do some shopping. By the time I was finished, I had bought my sissy whore a whole new wardrobe. I had not only bought some beautiful dresses, but I also bought some sexy lingerie, garish makeup, high heels, and earrings. When I returned we began Brucie’s transformation. As you might have guessed I had to offer a little encouragement, but poor little Brucie eventually was shorn of all body hair and dressed to kill in his French whore outfit. At 6’4” and in high heels he towered over me, but after some severe spankings, some particularly excruciating cock and ball torture, and some additional fucking followed by him sucking the dildo clean, he was very accommodating and eager to please. My little Brucie was just adorable and oh so sexy and fuckable.
I had planned to keep Bruce around for just a few days, just for kicks, and to teach him a really good lesson but I realized I was a female dominant who could never give in to a man and would never change. I needed a male slave in constant attendance to satisfy my sexual urges. Furthermore, I really enjoyed having a sissy whore serving me and having a virgin ass to fuck whenever I wanted, although by now his ass was as big as a Mack truck and rubbed raw from my constant care and attention. I don’t know if Brucie liked being my whore as much as I loved abusing him, but who cares. All I know is that I proposed to Brucie and offered to make our arrangements permanent and he eagerly accepted. Of course he may not have been in a position to disagree because I proposed while he was sucking a dildo and I was humping his ass. This seemed to be poetic justice, since it was the same position he had originally planned for us, except with him doing the humping. In any event, we married and had children, finally bringing us to the loving indoctrination and education of our son and daughter.
After having children, I decided to hide our true relationship from our children till they were old enough to understand it better. Accordingly, Brucie was allowed to don his male clothes around them and to go forth in the world as a man. However, in private he wore his female garb and I continued to beat and fuck him unmercifully. In public and around our children, though I tried not to be too demanding and demeaning, his subservience to me was clear. On occasion I slapped him and abused him in public, but the real punishment came later. Additionally his never-ending bruises and fear of me were there for all to see, though few saw my Brucie as a sissy whore or knew the extent of our relationship.
Our children were carbon copies of us. Karen our daughter was a beautiful girl, who from her days as a toddler was sent to the gym and toughened up like dear old mom.. I taught her everything I knew, but warned her to keep her fighting abilities secret till she was older and the time was right. Richie our son was two years older and like his father before him grew into a strapping teenager, who developed a macho attitude towards his girlfriends and the world in general. He saw his father as an embarrassment because it was obvious who ruled in our household, but I let him develop as a pig knowing that he would eventually learn the ways of the world from his sister. Richie seemed to be an outsider in our family from the very beginning as Karen and me developed close bonds and she quickly and easily learned that she could boss her dad and order him around. Richie even started giving his sister a hard time and it was all I could do to keep her from attacking him before we were ready to teach him how to be like his old man.
At the age of 13, I was ready to teach Karen how to be a woman, although Richie’s rude awakening would come later. We started with some frank discussions as I slowly revealed to her my past experiences. I then swore her to secrecy and started to slowly reveal my true relationship with her father, most of which I found out wasn’t a complete surprise to her. As I mentioned previously his bruises and obsequious behavior were there for all to see and she assumed I was beating her dad up. When I thought she was ready, I then brought her into our inner sanctum. We started slowly with Karen being allowed to give commands to her dad, while he responded as the slave that he had become. Initially we played harmless games as she used him as a dog to play fetch and as a servant performing simple tasks for her. I then had her punish her dad for simple violations and she took to it like a fish to water. She quickly went from simple face slappings, delivered with no reluctance whatsoever, to spankings and severe beatings with a belt, cane, and switches. Poor old Brucie actually almost dreaded her beatings as much as mine.
Eventually, just as with my own learning process, I finally introduced her to Brucie as a sissy whore. Initially the shock of seeing her dad as a woman caught her offguard. After all Karen was still at that time only a 13 year old and although the pleasure of beating her dad up was something she could relate to, the sexual implications of the role reversals was something new for her. However, much like the physical beatings, she quickly adapted to using her dad as a whore. I still remember my motherly pride the first time she strapped on a dildo and fucked her dad in the ass just like she had been doing it all her short life. She measured her pelvic thrusts perfectly with Brucie’s moans and without any encouragement from me rocked backed and forth in perfect harmony with Brucie as he rhythmically pushed his ass back on her dildo begging for more. When he finally ejaculated as he learned to do from our many sessions together, Karen made him suck up his own cum, and then went mom one better by taking her dildo and beating Brucie about his head and shoulders until his face was black and blue.
Although Karen was probably ready to teach her brother the facts of life, I convinced her to wait till her 14th birthday while she gained some more experience with her father. For the next few months she made Brucie’s life a living hell while she waited impatiently to kick the shit out of her brother. Rather than waiting for me to conduct joint sessions with dad, she abused him by herself whenever she had the opportunity. She practiced her punches, kicks, wrestling holds, and flips on poor old Brucie till she could beat him in a fair fight. When she was tired of the beatings, she had dad wait on her like a personal maid. At night we double teamed Brucie as we raped him endlessly and used him as our sex slave. I introduced her to having her pussy eaten and her anus licked, by dear old dad. All the time we scripted when and how Karen would introduce her brother to his new world and he would become her personal slave. Something Brucie was looking forward to as much as Karen because he was being pushed to the limit and he was hoping Karen would have someone other than himself to abuse.
Finally, judgement day came. Karen hit her 14th birthday and Richie was 16 and becoming almost unbearable. The day began with the entire family at the breakfast table and Karen in a dress, heels, and panty hose. As previously planned, I ordered Brucie to get on his knees and kiss my feet, which he immediately did with gusto. Richie obviously was astounded and sickened by this and called his dad a pussy-whipped embarrassment. He was even more dumbfounded when his sister ordered her dad to kiss her feet also and he complied by crawling to her chair. When she then grabbed Brucie by his hair, pulled him up, locking his head between her thighs and draping her legs over his shoulders, and began to bitch slap him, Richie almost fell off his chair in amazement. As she beat her father, she called him a sorry excuse for a man and a lousy foot sucker. With Richie looking on in dumbfounded bewilderment , Karen then released her leg scissors and stood up. She then pulled her dad to his feet and grabbing his shirt with one hand began pounding him with short, sharp punches to his face. As he tried to cover up, Karen kneed him in the stomach, bringing him to his knees. She then allowed him to crawl back to me, where he began kissing my feet once again. Turning ominously to her brother, she then ordered him to kiss her feet.
Needless to say, he responded with a string of expletives and threatened to kick her ass. I calmly told her to teach her brother a lesson and beat the living shit out of him. The next hour was a sight to behold and a thing of beauty for a proud mother. Karen responded deliberately and took her time tearing her brother apart piece by piece. It started with my dumb, foolish son strutting over to Karen and in macho bravado saying take your best shot. Rather than ending the fight with one punch, she calmly took his wrist and bent it back painfully using just her one hand. This brought him to his knees in excruciating pain. Holding his wrist back, and keeping him immobilized, she then told him to come up swinging and give her a little challenge. Letting his wrist go, she then gave him a hard slap to his face knocking him to the ground. Stepping back a few feet, she then taunted him to get up and fight, beckoning him to come on with her fingers, while moving her dress up on her thighs to give her legs more room to work.
It was then that the mauling truly began. Karen easily sidestepped his first few feeble bull rushes by putting her leg out and using his own momentum to trip him and throw him to the ground each time. After several throws to the ground, he then approached her more slowly, but she began to pepper his head with jabs and taunting slaps as she easily avoided his wild and looping punches. This served more to infuriate him than to hurt him. Karen teased him like this for several minutes, but finally tiring from the lack of competition, she decided to get serious. She began kicking him repeatedly in the sides with a series of kicks intended to weaken and punish him, punctuating the sequel with a drop kick to the solar plexus that flattened him and put him on the floor gasping for air. Allowing him time to recover, he finally got to his feet only to be flattened and knocked to the floor again by a series of punches to the midsection.
Karen continued to beat him slowly and deliberately for almost an hour, painting a beautiful mosaic of bruises all over Richie’s body. Her punches brought welts and bruises to every square inch of his face, while her punches and kicks covered his body in a similar canvas of colors. It was also evident each time he got up, he got up with less and less bravado, not believing his younger sister, who was 5 inches shorter and 60 lbs lighter could be doing this to him. To add to his humiliation she was wearing a dress, heels, and panty hose as if going to a cotillion, and looked as fragile as a wallflower. I was loving every moment of it, while poor old Brucie could only moan in sorrow as his son was being reduced to the same lowly state he already occupied. Karen gave no mercy and asked for no surrender, as she continued her assault. Richie eventually begged her to stop, but she ignored his whimpers
When Richie could get up no more or didn’t want to get up, she picked him up and knocked him down again. When she tired of picking him up, she kicked and stomped him as he lay at her feet in agony. When she tired of kicking him, she took off her shoes and rubbed her stockinged feet in his face in derision and to inflict as much humiliation as possible. When she tired of this, she kneeled over his face, opened his mouth and pissed in it with nary a complaint from him. When she emptied her bladder, she ripped his clothes off, threw them away, turned him over on his stomach, strapped on a dildo she had concealed on the table, and proceeded to fuck him in the ass, while Richie could only yell in agony. When she tired of fucking him, she took off her dildo and left it in his ass.
By now even Karen needed a rest, so she left poor Richie lying on the floor in a puddle of her urine, while she sat down to admire her handiwork. He was sobbing and whimpering unconsolably. She then calmly, but in a threatening manner, explained to Richie his new role in our household as her slave and plaything. In graphic detail she explained how she was going to make his life a living hell and how he was going to be transformed into her sissy whore. Finally he crawled over to me and begged me to help him and protect him from his sister. At this point I stood up and pulled up my dress to reveal a huge dildo I had been wearing the entire time. Grabbing his hair, I pulled his face forward and roughly thrust my dildo in his mouth and said “Suck my cock scumbag. You are about to learn what it means to be a male.” And so poor Richie’s education began in earnest. For the rest of that day, his sister and I took turns raping him and abusing him, showing him no mercy.
As I look back now, those early days in which Karen blossomed into a full blown dominant woman bring back my fondest memories and give rise to a motherly pride I will always cherish. She had taken the lessons learned from months of working with me, and to give him his due, lessons using her father. Brucie suffered her first attempts at female domination like the true slave he had become. For example, Karen’s first attempts at punishment were sometimes more excessive than necessary and caused debilitating injuries much too quickly. She had to learn to take it more slowly so that her victim could last longer and suffer more. One may say Brucie had no choice but to take it, and that is true, but he never flinched and never complained. Karen also had to learn the fine art of psychological emasculation and how to strip a male of his ego in the most devastating manner possible. Again, sometimes Karen erred on the side of excess, but she eventually learned patience and style, and by the time I unleashed her on her brother she had her father fearing her for her own abilities, rather than because of her status as my daughter.
After her initial dismantling of her brother, she essentially took over his training and I had very little to do other than enjoy the fruits of her labor. For example, that first morning after poor Richie’s deflowering she already had him eating out of her hand and scared to death of her. I can still remember Richie kneeling at her feet in fear while she calmly ate her breakfast, waiting for the scraps she threw him, and eating them off the floor like the dog he had become. For the rest of that day he followed her on his hands and knees everywhere she went, waiting for her commands, and suffering her reprisals for every response that wasn’t quick enough, eager enough, or good enough. She played mind games with him, at times having him playing dead and rolling over like a dog, to waiting on her like a maid and hand servant, to cleaning house like a lowly cleaning woman, and finally to eating and drinking her bodily wastes just for the fun of it.
After basically bruising almost square inch of his body and face the previous day, her punishment the second day was concentrated on his cock and balls, ass, and anus. Her punishment typically consisted of spankings and penis whipping and slapping. These bouts of punishment were particularly painful because for most of the day he was forced to either masturbate endlessly, ejaculating over and over, and eating every last bit of cum after each ejaculation, or fucking himself with a dildo he either had in his ass or carried in his mouth like a bone. As a result, his penis was rubbed painfully raw and his anus was bleeding like a young virgin whore. Needless to say, by the end of his second day in purgatory, Richie was broken in every sense of the word.
However, we were not done with his initial indoctrination. That night and for most of the next day he was tied up and left in a bathtub to soak in our urine and shit as both Karen and I used him as our toilet. We even had his own father cum over him as we took turns fucking Brucie while we stood over and straddled Richie’s thoroughly beaten life form. This gave him time to think about his plight and for the reality and fear of his transformation to sink in. Everytime I looked in on him, he was whimpering and trembling in horror and dread, begging to be let free. After considerable time to get his mind right, I freed him from his bondage and ordered him to clean and to present himself for extensive training on how to be a proper young lady. Countering the cruelty shown him by his sister, I spent the next few days teaching him how to dress like a woman, how to apply his own makeup, how to walk and sit like a female, and how to be ladylike in every way. Of course we shaved his body of all that nasty male hair that he would make a more natural lady.
When I next presented him to his little sister, poor Richie was for all extensive purposes a castrated she-male with no male dignity left whatsover. While it is hard to say I felt motherly pride, like I felt in Karen’s case, because after all he was a boy, I did feel a sense of satisfaction that he had been properly indoctrinated and transformed into a sissy whore befitting his lowly male status. As he cowered and flinched each time Karen raised her voice or raised her hand, my heart fluttered in joy and pride. Richie was Richie no more, I loved him for what he had become and I looked forward to having another male in the house to use and abuse. As my strapping young man walked daintily in his high heels, curtsied when given orders, and did all he could to please me and Karen I could only admire my handiwork.
Richie’s education would painfully continue, but after his initial indoctrination he offered little resistance and readily adapted to his new role. Like his dad we let him go outside the house in male clothes and continue to attend school, but at home he left his male clothes at the door and became Edwina. One of his first lessons was to learn that not only his little sister, but his mom could kick his ass in a fair fight. After he had time to recover from the vicious beating his sister had given him, I challenged him to the first of what would be a continuing cycle of boxing matches. By now I had beaten his father so many times in fights it was hardly fun anymore and I was looking for new meat. Accordingly, we put on the gloves and duked it out. At first he was so intimidated and cowed by his transformation that he was afraid to throw a punch, but he finally was willing to mix it up, and for an old broad I must say I surprised even myself. If we were keeping score it would have been a shutout. I beat him masterfully and brutally. By the time we finished I had given him a black eye and multiple welts that covered his face, while I had no marks at all. Unfortunately, for poor Richie, his sister was not to be outdone and after giving him time to recover she gave him an even worse beating that sent him to the hospital emergency room.
In fact, Karen and I were becoming so competitive, that we strove to outdo each other in our treatment of Brucie and Richie. If I could get Richie to cry after ten minutes of whippings, Karen would try to get him to cry after 8 minutes. If I pissed on Brucie to degrade him and make a point, Karen would shit on his face and make him eat it. We even conducted competitions. For example, we would spank Brucie and Richie simultaneously and see who could raise more welts and produce more colorful bruises. I must admit that Karen usually won. She was actually becoming even more demanding and sadistic than me, and poor old Richie suffered for it. He never had a free moment at home, he washed her clothes by hand, polished her finger nails and toe nails, gave her baths, gave her massages, shined her shoes, and was constantly at her beck and call. If not performing chores, or being beaten, he was kneeling by her side kissing her feet, eating her pussy , or licking her anus clean. Karen even start using him as a toilet rather than going to the bathroom. If she had to urinate while watching TV, she merely pissed in his mouth and he drank her golden nectar.
Over time Karen became bored with just having her brother and father to torment. She needed more male meat to pound and abuse, and who better to provide it than her hapless brother. Richie was then ordered to bring friends home as prey and victim for her insatiable desire. These boys once victimized by Karen were too embarrassed and ashamed to tell others how they were beaten up and humiliated by a mere girl two years their junior and typically many pounds less, as Karen particularly loved the athletic jocks who towered over her. Consequently, these private escapades continued for several months without anyone, but the poor boys who suffered her wrath, being the wiser. In fact, it was not uncommon for me to come home and find a bruised and battered young stud being ridden around the living room like a pony or kneeling between Karen’s legs feverishly bringing her to orgasm with his tongue. Richie typically stood by in full female regalia suffering his friend’s humiliation in silent commiseration.
The ultimate was the time I came home to find her with three young studs at the ready, each with black eyes, bloody faces, and tears flowing down their faces, as they kneeled in front of Karen, head to the ground, bruised asses up in the air, with dildos protruding from their butts. As I was to learn, these were boys she had previously beaten up one-on-one, and threatened with disclosure, had returned for a special session as commanded by Karen. Adding to the strange sight was Richie lying on his back underneath the boys, sucking the cock of one, bringing him to orgasm, before crawling to the next boy to suck his cock. Typically, I had purposely stayed away from fucking with these young boys and had left Karen to her fun and games, but the situation presented to me could not be ignored. As I was to discover, Karen ordered the boys over as a birthday present for me. In fact, the boys were staying the weekend and we were to share them in a weekend orgy of sex and punishment.
We took turns beating them and fucking them for the next two days. We used our dildos on their virgin assess and used their penises to pleasure us. Please note I did not say fuck us, because although their penises entered our vaginas we were in charge and on top. Also, I doubt they enjoyed it much, as we beat them about the face with our fists as we gyrated on their upright, rock hard member. Additionally, we had them fuck and suck each other just for the fun and sheer humiliation of it. In between they walked around totally naked, with their cocks painfully bound by leather straps, and their balls covered with hair pins that squeezed their testicles unmercifully. They waited on us and pampered us like goddesses as we gave them no rest or respite. By Sunday night, they could barely walk out the door and their faces and bodies were a mass of welts, bruises, and ugly colors. They conspired to tell their parents they were beaten and raped by a group of motorcycle gang members, rather than be humiliated by the knowledge that women had tortured them so cruelly. Shortly thereafter, they all transferred to a different school to escape the scornful gaze of their classmates. Poor old Richie, however, remained our property and possession, and with his father continued to suffer our motherly, daughterly, and sisterly love and caresses.
During this time, Richie’s other friends began to wonder what was happening and his girlfriend started calling to see why he was no longer seeing her. This led to one of my divine inspirations that gradually opened entire new horizons. I simply asked her to come over and see what was happening herself. When she arrived I provided no explanations and advance warnings, but merely took her to Karen’s room where Richie was being given a spanking for a minor indiscretion. Seeing Richie in full female garb, draped over his sister’s lap, being spanked with a hairbrush obviously shocked her immensely. I then explained our new living arrangements and offered her an opportunity to punish Richie for any past real or perceived transgressions. At first she refused, but at Karen’ s urging Richie was commanded to crawl over to his girlfriend’s feet, kiss them, beg her for forgiveness, and plea to be slapped in the face. Although Richie was horror stricken by being seen by his girlfriend in his current predicament, he was by now too emasculated to protest or refuse. However, Karen did have to kick him in the ass a few times to provide encouragement.
Redfaced and utterly humiliated, Richie crawled over and began kissing her girlfriend’s feet as commanded, interspersing his adoration with sincere pleas to be slapped. His girlfriend was initially sickened by this display and would have no part in slapping her fallen boyfriend. However, Karen and myself encouraged her to at least try a few slaps and said if she wouldn’t do it, we would. Richie’s pleas to be slapped quickly became more heartfelt because he knew our slaps would be much worse. Finally, his girlfriend agreed to slap him and Richie raised his head to receive her blows. The first few blows were mere love taps, providing no pain whatsoever. Frustrated by her weakness, I stepped in and said let me show you how to really slap a sissy whore like Richie. I then gave poor Richie a blow that sent him reeling to the floor.
Richie quickly resumed a position on his knees and all on his own, in a voice that made me proud said “Please slap me harder, your highness.” His girlfriend, thus encouraged, proceeded to slap his face in a steady rhythmn. As each blow landed, it was obvious she was now starting to enjoy herself and she started slapping poor Richie harder and harder. As his face got redder and redder, her blows got increasingly more powerful, and she started smiling in glee. Eventually, the blows ended and I suggested why don’t you punch him dear. She protested, but I said Richie would love it. In a defeated and beaten voice, Richie concurred. To make a long story, short. She not only punched him silly, we got her to spank him, whip him, and eventually, you guessed it, fuck him. In fact she enjoyed herself so much she became a regular visitor and a partner in poor Richie’s education. In one particularly cruel moment of inspiration, we conspired to have Richie and her stage a fight at school in which she gave him a vicious beating in front of his friends. This was probably as humiliating as anything we had done to Richie in private.
The experiment with Richie’s girlfriend opened our eyes. Why not share our slaves with our friends, and so we did. Originally we started with my friends who loved having neutered males waiting on them hand and foot. In fact we even started loaning Brucie and Richie to our friends to perform menial chores and serve as victims in staged fights that would impress the friends of their conquerors. Eventually Karen started demonstrating her prowess and command over her brother, and even her father, to her friends. Unfortunately, poor little Richie suffered greatly because Karen’s friends just loved beating him up and tormenting him. Another fallout of sharing Brucie and Richie with our friends was that their plight became common knowledge in the neighborhood. They could not go out as men without suffering severe embarrassment and distress. Things got so bad that Richie had to drop out of school and Brucie had to quit his job. On the bright side, however, though Richie and Brucie might disagree, they were able to become sissy whores 24 hours a day.
And so we come to the end of my story. Brucie while still my husband in name, no longer performs husbandly tasks. He contributes to my lavish lifestyle by selling his sexual favors to gay men and bull dyke lesbians, and getting paid for cleaning houses. As for me I have become a dominatrix and now earn a healthy living doing what I do best, dominating and emasculating men. I also use my stable of slaves to satisfy all of my sexual desires. Karen has also become a dominatrix, and still competing against her mom, has established her own stable of slaves.
Richie eventually married one of Karen’s girlfriends and has become another battered housewife. Like his dad, he never wears male clothes anymore and loves his life as Edwina. He and his wife have three children, two girls and one boy. Unlike myself his wife has chosen to break the boy early. His two sisters are constantly beating him up and dressing him in girl clothes. Well to each their own I guess. Personally I think Richie turned out perfect and he is the apple of his mother’s eye. I can’t imagine a more adoring, caring son. After all how many sons still kiss their mother’s feet in gratitude and thank her for her golden nectar after being beat up and fucked by her.
by Ed Nick