From my blog.  I answer a reader's question.

 

> I've been waiting for you to describe this whipping scene, when you were 13.

 

Ok.

 

But it wasn't just at 13, it was shortly before puberty until 9th  or 10th grade.

 

As a teenager, my stepdad made me strip naked, stared at my body to humiliate me, and whipped me with his belt.  I thought of him as a stranger.  He whipped me all over really really hard, and I was crying but he told me not to move so I didn't  move and let him do it.  I was unbelievably sexually aroused by this.  After it stopped and he went away, I'd immediately masturbate to orgasm,usually twice.  This went on until into high school.   But I never put two and two together that that may be why I am like this until I started writing this blog.

 

> Like what had you done that made him or your mom decide that a whipping was in order.

 

Who even knows?  Whatever kids do.  Lots of times I didn't do anything at all, she was drunk and just ASSUMED I did.  That's what made me maddest.  Or she'd misinterpret something I said as being sassy talkback. Whatever.

 

> Who came up with this imaginative scene? It's not like a traditional OTK spanking.

 

Don't know for sure.  She may never have even known the completely naked stuff was going on.  She never watched.  She was the one who told him to punish me, he never started it himself.  It was on her orders. I never got mad at him for it just her.

 

> What was going through your head the first time your mums boyfriend said, "Ok, get naked I'm going to whip you for that"?

 

Confused.  But she had told him to, so it wasn't his fault, at least not in my mind.  I was pretty young the first time, and he never hit me very hard at all, almost like he was going through the motions because she had told him to.  What he said was "All right young lady, now take off all your clothes", just like that.  But after the first few times we both knew what I was to do and he didn't have to say anything at all.  In fact, after maybe the first year, the whole thing always happened without either of us saying anything at all, like some kind of ritual. 

 

He never showed any sympathy or compassion for me, but I didn't perceive that he was being turned on by it, at least not then.  But replaying those memory tapes in my mind now, I can see that after my puberty, he liked doing it.  I  can tell by the rapidity and intensity with which he whipped me that his heart WAS in it.  It was enthusiasm, but I think he tried really, really hard to make it not sexual, lest he get in trouble.  But when it first started, I don't think he was really into it.  My impression was that that was the way they punished kids when he was a kid.  I probably assumed it happened to everyone else, but I am sure I never really thought about it.  Kids adapt, you know?

 

> And since it so resembles your own fantasies, how could it not be the impetus for them?

 

Well yeah it's obvious now!

 

> Had you started dreaming and masturbating along domination lines previously?

 

No.

 

> Was this also your mothers kink?

 

No.

 

> was she more into just being a voyeur?

 

She never watched.  It was always in my room. Afterwards, no one ever mentioned it.  They acted like it never happened. He never said word one to me anyway, which was just fine with me. And my mom was always fake-cheery, like she didn't have anything to do with it, but she had that fucking SMUG SMILE.

 

I hated her.

 

I'd rather think about what he did than what she did.

 

I held my arms over my head while he whipped me really fast.  Eventually I learned to clasp my hands behind my neck so my arms wouldn't hurt.  It also gave my hands something to grab onto while I was being whipped.  I stood in one place in the middle of the room and he walked around me, whipping me and not saying anything except sometimes "keep your arms up!"  and "be quiet!"  I whimpered silently and obediently.   He'd always start with my ass, then my back and legs, work my right side, my front, then left side, more on my ass HARD, then breasts.  Always the same order.  That was actually good, because it made it predictable.

 

He never hit my face or arms or anywhere visible except my upper legs.  No one ever noticed in the gym showers; it wasn't that extreme.  The "sessions" lasted between 30 seconds and a minute. he whipped me really hard and very fast. After he finished making red lines all over my body, he just walked out without saying anything, leaving me there, standing alone and naked.

 

That's when I knew I could masturbate. After a few times, as soon as I saw him start to leave, I'd get really excited.  I locked the door first in case someone came back (no one ever did). I masturbated while my whole body was stinging and burning from being whipped (or belted or whatever you call it).  It only took about seven seconds for the first orgasm, which lasted like FOREVER.   After the first one, that's when  stopped crying.  It was like an emotional release.  The next one was fun to work for, because then I could concentrate on the feelings in the girl parts of my body he had abused and remember how humiliated and embarrassed and submissive I had felt.

 

His belt was real thin (and black), so it was more like a whip.  He never used the buckle end.  Sometimes he hit my nipples but I don't think it was on purpose, though after I got breasts I know he whipped them deliberately.  I didn't think anything special about that; I just assumed he was hitting me everywhere, but I got excited when I saw he was whipping them.   Whenever he hit my nipples (which come to think of it, was always at the end), that was like the "peak". That hurt the most, but provided by far the most pleasure when I rubbed off afterwards.  They were the most sensitive part he hit.  To this day, I squeeze the nipples until they hurt when I masturbate.

 

Over the years he did this certainly more than 100 times, and probably several hundred.  Less that a thousand though.   I never counted and I didn't keep a diary.  I also never told anybody. It never seemed interesting or important.  I just knew that it hurt, was embarrassing,  and I secretly craved it.  I never deliberately  misbehaved to make it happen, though.

 

He whipped my vagina, but only because he whipped me all over.  He never made me spread my legs or ass or do anything "obscene".  Though now that I think of it, when my "vagina" got hair and turned into a "cunt", he whipped it a lot more than he used to. 

 

Wow, I never really analyzed all this stuff before.  Thinking back on it now, I guess it aroused him immensely, but until now I never really thought about that. He was like my evil mom's robot, but not evil himself.  I never thought to see if he had a boner.  I don't think I knew to look back then. I was INCREDIBLY naive and totally ignorant about sex, other than the most basic biology we learned in school (which wasn't much).

 

He never whipped my clit specifically, or made any indication that anything was sexual.  I thought the sex aspect was exclusively in my guilty mind and that I was really perverted. (I guess I was).  Then I found out years later that there's a whole subculture of women who like to be humiliated, embarrassed and whipped, I though it was literally too good to be true, and that it was all just theoretical rumor, like the other strange stuff you hear about other cultures doing, until I found out Diana really did that stuff. That's what made it real for me.  Then my whole world changed.  See my main fuck story for that.

 

Shit, writing about it is turning me on.  I'm, going to look at whip movies now.

 

And rub the nub.

 

And remember.

 

-- flk

 

Copyright 2007 by Faye Kane... NOT!  Like my body, you can do whatever you want with this story.