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Chapter 43 S&M in Suburbia
“One thirty four, there it is,” said Portia spotting the Talbot’s house number as Stacy drove slowly down a quiet side street in Lexington’s Historical District.
“Beautiful home,” said Stacy entering the driveway coming to a halt behind a Volvo SUV.
“I looked it up in the Historical Register, built in 1796 by Nathaniel Wainwright, Merchant,” said Portia.
“I assume the dungeon was added later. Or was Nathaniel a handy man with a carriage whip?”
“Probably, the merchandise he made his fortune in was human. He financed over thirty voyages to Africa to bring back slaves. He was a slave owner himself,” said Portia. “That’s from the historical register.”
“So he must have occasionally whipped a sister who failed to get him off in a timely fashion,” said Stacy.
“Pleasuring master was part of her job description so she deserved it; but I doubt the original home had what Kendra describes as a state-of-the-art facility for the practice of sado-masochism.”
Why so,” asked Stacy? “I thought every home in suburbia came with a well-equipped torture chamber for mom and dad to enjoy.”
“According to the Lexington Preservation Society’s WEB site, any modifications to a home in the Historical District must be approved by committee and they make regular inspections to insure you’re not violating the owner’s agreement. I’m curious how the Talbots built a fully equipped modern dungeon.”
“I hope I don’t embarrass you. I’m not sure I can function as a dominatrice,” said Stacy as they exited the car.
“You won’t. Quit worrying. Think of it as one more step in our sexual education. Besides, wasn’t it you who got off turning that hot Latina’s ass bright red?” said Portia as she reached the front door and tripped the shinny brass doorknocker.
“Suppose I like it more than I should,” asked Stacy recalling how excited she became when she placed her palm on Adriana’s burning flesh?
Portia did not get a chance to answer.
“You must be Portia and Stacy, welcome to our home,” said the tall nice looking man who opened the door and introduced himself. “I’m Lloyd. Come this way. Kendra is finishing up lunch.”
The two girls smiled at one another as they followed Lloyd down the hallway to the back of the house. Portia playfully stuck out her hand pretending to pinch Lloyd’s round bottom causing Stacy to laugh silently.
When they arrived in the kitchen, Stacy immediately recalled the pretty, energetic brunette who along with Portia had made the foursome of Japanese automotive executives extremely pleased with Leslie Cabot’s golf weekend.
She’d vaguely remembered Portia discussing Kendra’s luncheon invitation on the drive back from Moynahan Castle. She‘d been surprised when Portia broached the topic.
“Remember Kendra from the golf weekend,” asked Portia taking a break from piano practice?
“Vaguely, was she the homemaker who invited you to Lexington for lunch with an S&M dessert,” asked Stacy looking up from her Western Civilization textbook?
“Yes, she and her husband, Lloyd, invited the two of us next Wednesday. Our last class is over at 10:00 so we could easily be there by noon,” said Portia.
“As I recall this is for more than lunch,” said Stacy.
“They’re both submissives and they have a fully equipped play space in the basement. We’re expected to be dominatrices,” said Portia. “Kendra has a pre-set program we can follow.”
“Play space,” asked Stacy?
“A BDSM euphemism for an area of their home where we can dominate them, it’s a dungeon and according to Kendra has everything needed to make them scream. She and her husband are really into pain. It’s something sexual we haven’t tried,” said Portia.
“Pain meaning whips, paddles, nipple clamps, etcetera,” asked Stacy.
“Precisely,” said Portia. “Kendra says they’ve been in the S&M lifestyle since before they married and would love to introduce us to the pleasures of domination and submission. Say you’ll go, please,” said Portia sitting down in Stacy’s lap and putting her arms around her neck.
“All right, it should be fun and educational,” said Stacy after thinking for a moment.
“Good, I’ll email Kendra we’re coming. I also need to go shopping for our dominatrix costumes,” said Portia excited at the prospect of a new adventure.
“Your home is very beautiful,” said Stacy. She and Portia were seated at an island in the spacious modern kitchen sipping a glass of pinot grigio. Lloyd had just taken them on a quick tour of the large Federalist style home. “Are the furnishings original?”
“No, but many are of the same period,” said Lloyd referring to the antique cluttered living room and parlor.
“The kitchen certainly isn’t colonial,” said Portia somewhat surprised at the sharp contrast between the different areas of the house.
“Only parts of the house are required to be maintained historically accurate. The kitchen, master bedrooms, and bathrooms were completely remodeled by the previous owner,” said Lloyd.
“As are the closets. In colonial America, people had very few clothes,” said Kendra. “No woman could survive with the tiny little cubbyholes, our forefathers called a closet.”
“And the dungeon,” asked Portia unable to suppress her curiosity?
“In the basement and completely out of the purview of the Preservation Committee; otherwise we Talbots would be the talk of Lexington,” said Kendra.
“Come, I’ll show you our play space while Kendra finishes lunch,” said Lloyd. Lloyd had been surprised at how attractive Portia and Stacy were. His prior experience had taught him females interested in S&M tended to be overweight. But Portia was very pretty with a compact well-proportioned figure and Stacy was a statuesque blonde beauty with an incredible rack he was anxious to explore.
Portia and Stacy followed Lloyd downstairs into a fully finished basement matching the footprint of the house.
“This is where Nicole and Elliot hang out when they’re not in school,” said Lloyd leading them through a room of comfortable, casual furniture facing a large screen television. The two youngest Talbots were on a school trip to Washington DC. Different brands of control boxes for video games were stacked on a nearby table. Air hockey and foosball tables occupied one side of the room. At the far end was a steel door Lloyd had to unlock before they could enter.
“If you don’t mind my asking, how do you keep your children from knowing about this,” asked Stacy as they followed him through the door into a well-lighted room obviously furnished for sado-masochism. It appeared very clean and well organized. The walls were covered with art and there were several objects of art on pedestals scattered throughout the room.
“Actually, they know because last month we sat them down and told them. We even gave them a brief tour,” said Lloyd. “They’d been dropping hints for months about what was in there?”
“How did they react,” asked Portia?
“Nicole and Elliot are very mature for their age. Nicole is fourteen and her brother thirteen. Of course, we never use this room while they’re here. One night at dinner, Elliot came right out and asked what was in the secret room in the basement. He said none of his friends had a locked room in their basement and he wanted to know what it was for. He was quite insistent.”
“So you told him,” said Stacy.
“After a lot of agonizing, but what else could we do? Elliot’s a very bright and inquisitive child. If we hadn’t satisfied his curiosity he would have picked the lock or found some way to get in.”
“Were they surprised,” asked Portia?
“Yes, but isn’t every child when he or she discovers Mommie has a pussy and Daddy sticks his peter in it. I know I was shocked the first time I spied on my parents. What was your experience, Stacy?”
“Total amazement, I was ten when I woke up hungry one night and on the way to the kitchen discovered my mother kneeling on the living room floor giving daddy a hummer. They’d been to a cocktail party,” said Stacy.
“How did they react,” asked Lloyd?
“They didn’t see me so I got to watch the part where he went down on her. That was followed by a good old fashioned missionary style screwing where my mother’s loud moans made me think daddy was hurting her.”
“Your parents never knew you were watching,” asked Portia?
“Not till the next day when I confronted my Mother and asked her what in the hell she and daddy were doing.”
“How did your mother respond,” asked Lloyd?
“Being a female doctor, she didn’t flinch from my sexual education. My Mom dove right in. In clinical detail lasting three hours she described the entire gamut of heterosexual intercourse. She followed her lecture up with age appropriate books and a video. That was succeeded by further discussion of the course material. I have to hand it to my Mom. She was thorough. I wound up with an excellent textbook knowledge of doing the nasty. I became the go to person in my class when someone had a question about sex.”
“But you didn’t apply the knowledge until much later,” said Portia.
“Correct, as the other students gained practical experience my academic learning lost value. But since arriving at college, I’ve increased my practical experience by leaps and bounds.”
“How about you, Portia,” asked Lloyd leading the girls into the middle of the room?
“My older sister and I grew up in a small three bedroom house in Trenton, New Jersey. The walls were paper-thin and my sister’s bedroom shared a heating duct with my parent’s room. We used to lay in bed listening to them. They were loud, energetic, and very vocal about what they expected from each other. Since my sister was three years older than me, she became my sexual mentor. I don’t recall ever seeing my parents having intercourse but when your older sister has a collection of dildos including a strapon and she is willing to demonstrate exactly what they’re doing, you gain knowledge quickly. How about you, Lloyd?”
“My first sighting was on a yacht my parents and two other couples leased for a two week cruise in the Caribbean, six adults and five children on a ninety seven feet motor sailor does not make for privacy. One of the seven was a girl, my age in years but far ahead in knowledge and experience. One night, we were anchored in a cove on a small island off Barbados. We’d spent the day snorkeling and we kids were exhausted and went to bed early. Thinking back it must have been planned by the adults as a means to have some privacy. Judy, the knowledgeable one, woke me and told me to be quiet and follow her. We climbed through a hatch near the bow. Back in the cockpit, there were six drunken adults playing Naked Twister. The winner got to fuck the loser. My Mom had just lost to Judy’s Dad.”
“So your parents were swingers. Did they catch you watching them,” asked Portia?
“Not that night, but it had the effect of turning me into a master spy. When they eventually found the microphone and television camera I installed in their bedroom, they sat me down for a detailed account of the birds and the bees. That was before they grounded me for a month.”
“Did they admit to mate swapping,” asked Stacy?
“Somewhat reluctantly, however, they didn’t have a choice when they discovered I had filmed them having sex with another couple.”
“How did you present all this to Nicole and Elliot? It’s a bit beyond the norm,” said Portia looking around the room.
“We tried to be honest. We told them it was our own special way of enjoying each other and most parents pursued sex differently. We said sado-masochism along with vanilla sex was an important part of our lives and something we enjoyed together and with other adults.”
“And that satisfied them,” asked Stacy?
“For now, but I predict there will be another round of questions and more detailed answers will be expected,” said Lloyd. “Kendra and I are not looking forward to that.”
“So BDSM and family life can co-exist,” said Stacy running her hand over a furnishing she recognized.
“I can only speak for Kendra and myself but we’re managing,” said Lloyd. “Any questions about our play space?”
“The paintings are incredible. Who’s the collector?’ asked Portia scanning the art works?
“Guilty, I studied art in college until I realized writing computer software instead would allow me to have a family and buy them something to eat,” said Lloyd.
“Is this an antique,” said Portia gently turning the pages of a book set on a podium in front of a group of paintings.
“Yes, circa 1861, I collect early America art related to BDSM and that is one of my more interesting finds,” said Lloyd flipping a wall switch to illuminate the book and the art behind it. “You are looking at one of the earliest examples of an illustrated S&M manuscript.”
“Fascinating,” said Stacy glancing at each of the pictures. “Tell us about it.”
“It’s titled, ‘The Capture and Savage Violation of the Slocum Family By Mangas Colorado and His Band of Apaches.’ It was written and illustrated by Emily Slocum. The illustrations in the printed text were made from the paintings hanging on the wall. They used a technique called camera obscura to create the printing plates from the paintings.”
“How did you find it,” asked Portia reading the first page of Emily’s narrative?
“I got lucky. I was in college at San Jose State. Although I’d just changed my major from art to computer science I was still interested in art. I had some money I’d inherited from my uncle and decided that if I couldn’t be an artist at least I could be an art collector. Due to my sexual preferences, I chose American BDSM as the theme of my collection. I frequented art galleries and auctions looking for bargains making friends with dealers and gallery owners. One day a dealer I’d gotten to be good friends with said he had something unusual he couldn’t sell in his gallery because of its content. It had come to him through an estate sale that included some traditional paintings of serious value. He sold the book and paintings to me for only five hundred dollars. It was found in the attic of a mansion in Riverside, California owned by a deceased and eccentric millionaire who had acquired it somehow.”
“That was an incredible bargain,” said Stacy.
“Yes, the fact the artist and writer was a woman makes it most unusual for the time. In early 1858, Emily, her father Jeremiah, mother Cecilia, older brother Samuel, and younger sister, Katherine, set out in a wagon train from St. Louis for California. They took the southern route passing through the New Mexico and Arizona territories. The first picture in the set shows the Slocum family ready to depart.”
“Handsome pioneer family,” said Stacy looking closely at the family grouped in front of an ox drawn Conestoga wagon. No one was smiling. The three women were dressed in long black dresses and wore bonnets. The two Slocum males wore bulky wool suits with bowler hats.
“Yes, in her book, Emily makes quite a to do of the family’s physical appearance especially her father and brother’s. Her parents were actually well off for those days. The wagon train made good time and they had reached New Mexico Territory when disaster struck. Look at the second painting.”
“Broken axle,” said Portia reading the title under the second painting. It showed the family looking somewhat forlorn as the other wagons left them. The front wheel of their wagon was lying flat on the ground.
“Their wagon broke down in Cooke’s Canyon, a long narrow gorge and a favorite ambush site for the Chircahua Apaches under the great war chief Mangas Colorado. The other wagons in a moment of supreme cowardice drove on leaving the Slocum’s to make repairs and catch up in Tucson. The third picture tells what happened next.”
“Captured,” said Portia reading the caption of the third painting. It showed the Slocum’s looking terrified cowering in the middle of dozens of Indians. “Is this story true?”
“At least in part, I was able to verify from military records that a family named Slocum consisting of a man, woman and three children was rescued by a detachment of cavalry under the command of a Lt. Worthy Bascom. The report said the Slocum’s had been horribly abused by the savages before Bascom’s detachment drove them off. But it doesn’t go into specifics about their injuries. I suppose the Lieutenant was being gentile. You didn’t write about rape and mayhem in those times.”
“They stripped them. Who is the big Indian?” said Stacy looking at the next picture. It showed the family standing naked against the side of the wagon. They were staring fearfully at a large Apache who was a head taller than anyone else. Other Apaches were trying on the captive’s clothes. The images graphically depicted the sexual organs of the Slocums.
“Mangas Colorado himself, along with Cochise and Geronimo, the greatest of the Apache war chiefs. The Army murdered him in 1863 after he surrendered and offered to sign a peace treaty. He was six feet four inches tall. That I have verified but it was common knowledge he was a giant for that period.”
“The Slocum men were well endowed and the women had good figures,” said Portia studying the picture.
“Yes, too well endowed and that is where Emily seems to jump from a historically accurate account into S&M porn,” said Lloyd.
“You’re right. The cocks are too large and the women’s breasts are bigger than Stacy’s,” said Portia.
“But not as beautiful,” said Lloyd lifting Stacy’s shirt up to expose her braless breasts.
“I’m surprised pioneer men and women were just as boob-centric as we are today,” said Stacy placing her hands under her breasts and lifting them in a gesture signifying they were available for Lloyd’s closer inspection.
“Magnificent, have you ever posed before,” said Lloyd leaning down to kiss one of Stacy’s nipples as his fingers squeezed the other?
“No,” said Stacy lifting Lloyd’s head to engage in a passionate kiss.
“Stop. You two control yourself. The vanilla part of the agenda is later this afternoon,” said Portia pulling on Stacy’s arm.
“You’re right, Portia, but some things are hard to resist,” said Lloyd releasing Stacy.
“I find Emily’s account fascinating. Please continue,” said Stacy reluctantly pushing her shirt down.
“I think Emily fantasized about the size of her father and brother’s cock,” said Lloyd returning to the paintings and manuscript.
The next painting showed Jeremiah tied upright to the side of the wagon over the enormous wheel, his arms and legs in a starfish configuration. There was a thin strip around each testicle pulling it away from its partner toward opposite sides of the wheel rim. Another chord pulled his cock straight toward the earth. He appeared to be in considerable pain.
“Rawhide,” said Portia reading the caption on the painting. “What does that mean?”
“Rawhide is untanned cow hide cut in narrow strips. Since it was never subjected to tanning it has the property that if you wet it then allow it to dry, it will shrink as much as thirty percent. One of the favorite Apache tortures was to tie a narrow strip of wet rawhide around a woman’s breasts or a man’s testicles and let the hot sun do the rest.”
“No wonder everyone was scared shitless of the Apaches,” said Portia.
“There are numerous accounts of Apache atrocities by settlers where men are castrated by the simple use of wet rawhide. You staked the man out in the hot sun, tightly secured his balls with wet rawhide then relaxed and chanted to the Great Spirit while he screamed his head off. They didn’t have television so good entertainment was rare. If the cavalry had not arrived, Jeremiah Slocum would have gone to his grave without the family jewels.”
“They’re huge and stretched a good six inches,” said Stacy feeling warmth between her thighs brought about by the erotic images facing her.
“No doubt a product of Emily’s overactive imagination,” said Lloyd.
“The Apaches engaged in sodomy,” asked Portia after reading the caption of the next painting in which Samuel was on all fours with an Apache cock in his mouth and ass.
“Note how large the Apache’s cocks are in, ‘Samuel is Sodomized.’ It’s quite absurd, really,” said Lloyd. “But yes, the Apaches like almost all our Native American tribes weren’t too picky gender-wise about whose hole they plugged.”
“Samuel’s cock is hard, too. As are the Apache’s waiting their turn with him,” said Portia.
“Yes, it reminds me of one of the monthly all male group sex parties, we have right here in Lexington at the Courtyard Inn. Everyone kicks in twenty bucks to hire a twink for the evening and we take turns with him,” said Lloyd matter of factly. “By the time we’re done with him, his asshole won’t close and its oozing semen.”
“You and Kendra have a very interesting sex life,” said Stacy.
“We work hard to keep it interesting, inviting two beautiful college girls to be our dominatrices for example. We also allow each other latitude to participate in sexual situations without the spouse. I attend my monthly all male bisexual married men parties and Kendra has her weekend at Leslie Cabot’s fuck-a-thon among other activities.”
“They say the secret to a successful marriage is to work at it,” said Stacy. “I see little Emily lost her cherry to the war chief himself.”
“Yes, Mangas was the first to put the stones to her, as my Italian neighbor would say,” said Lloyd.
“He’s huge,” said Portia looking at the painting titled, “My Defilement.” Emily was on her hands and knees. A kneeling Mangas Colorado had a firm grip on her flanks and was shoving his manhood into her bleeding vagina.
“If his cock was that large, it must have hurt,” said Stacy.
“Emily in the text writes at length about how his enormous cock filled her delicate sex. Open her book at the bookmark and read. You’ll see why I consider this part historical account and part pornography,” said Lloyd.
Portia flipped the page to the bookmark and read aloud:
“His rough hands seized my womanly hips, ordering me to be still to facilitate his assault. My only idea of what to expect was based on the occasion I watched Mr. Wilkinson’s Jersey bull, Thomas, impregnate our cow, Niagara. Mother was furious when she learned I had witnessed old Mr. Wilkinson’s take hold of Thomas’s enormous member and position it at Niagara’s opening. Seizing his opportunity, Thomas shoved his great body forward driving into Niagara in one straightforward action. Niagara’s bellow made my ears ring as her hind legs fought to sustain his bulk.
Like Niagara I found myself straining to support the weight of the Apache chief as he crouched over me. The tip of his manhood parted the folds of my sex seeking my too small opening. He halted for a moment. I heard the sound of expectorating. His callused fingers touched my female parts smearing his sputum over the surface. Later, I learned it was common practice for the male to cover the female’s sex with his saliva to ease his entry.
My defilement by the savage was quick and brutal. Returning the blunt head of his instrument to my opening, his hand cruelly grasped my hips as he forced himself in me. The pain was acute as he encountered my maidenhead. The proof of my virtue resisted his incursion causing him to redouble his effort. I felt something begin to tear then in an instant I was a ruined woman screaming my shame to the heavens. His manhood was deep inside me. My agony was unbearable but all I could do was weep and pray my ordeal would end. I heard my father curse the Apache calling down God’s wrath on them for their depredation of the Slocum Family.
To my right, I heard Katherine suffer my fate. Her screams reverberated off the walls of the cursed canyon where the Apache found us easy prey. My Mother, being a woman and mother, bore her assault quietly as savage after savage mounted her.
For my poor brother it was worse as the Apache, lacking Christian learning, repeatedly performed dual acts of sodomy against his person. I had heard men engage in such depraved acts but had never believed I would witness such wickedness.
The Apache Chief thrust into me repeatedly until at last he filled me with his life-giving seed. Upon his withdrawal I had no respite as another took his place. It was then a young brave placed his penis against my lips. My resolve to keep my mouth closed failed when he held his knife against my throat. I imitated Samuel and my Mother, pleasuring the savage with my lips and tongue until he spewed his seed into my mouth. The savage cried a loud whoop of triumph as he stained my virtue forever. His knife at my throat forced me to swallow his liquor.”
“Wow,” said Stacy when Portia finished.
“Porn or historically accurate account,” asked Lloyd?
“I opt for both,” said Portia.
“It’s fascinating what our pioneers endured in their drive to settle the West. What’s next?” said Stacy.
“In the next painting, Mother Cecilia and Sister Katherine get their share of Apache dick. The following three paintings are basically scenes of the three women being raped in both orifices. Emily was quite the artist. Her use of color, light, and perspective are excellent. You can see Samuel being ass fucked in the foreground while in the background Jeremiah’s scrotum achieves a prodigious length.”
“What’s happening here,” asked Stacy pointing to the next painting in the series?
“Simple rape has lost its charm and it is time to bring fire into the picture. In the first painting on the next to bottom row, the women are standing while their breasts are bound in wet rawhide. Emily’s have begun to swell and discolor.”
“Our little Emily’s tits look like watermelons,” said Stacy noting the size and striped color of her mammaries.
“But in the next painting, things really get serious,” said Portia pointing to the final set of paintings labeled Trial By Fire.
“This part is also supported by independent accounts of Apache behavior. Apaches employed fire when torturing their captives. One of Geronimo’s favorites for ranchers who settled Indian land was to cook them inside one of their beef carcasses. Settlers who were dumb enough to be captured suffered horrible deaths. Geronimo’s men would kill one of his cows, cut it open and gut it. They’d place the naked captive inside the carcass and seal it up expect for the face so he doesn’t smother. They suspended the encased captive from a tree limb and build a fire under him. You basically cooked in the animal’s body fat. It took several hours to die. Settlers were told that if they were about to be captured to place their gun in their mouth and pull the trigger. Save the last bullet for yourself was the rule.”
“Why were the Apaches so savage,” asked Stacy?
“Partly their religion, partly just payback for the way they were treated. The Mexican government offered a bounty for dead Apaches. It had a graduated scale that included women and children. Settlers and the army didn’t hesitate to rape and murder their women.”
“Did they really do that to the Slocum women,” asked Portia viewing the scene of extreme torture combined with rape?
“According to Emily’s account, they dug a narrow trench and filled it full of burning mesquite. Mesquite wood burns quick and hot. They used pieces of the wagon to build a frame to hold the women over the fire while they raped them. The areolas of their swollen boobs were just above the fire. You can imagine how that must have felt. My research confirmed that captured women were found with charred or even burned off breasts.”
“How horrible,” said Stacy looking at the paintings of the women’s violent reactions to being raped while their breasts rested in glowing coals?
“But before, anything was completely burned or ripped off, Lt. Worthy Bascom of General Carleton’s army arrived and drove the Apaches off,” said Lloyd putting his arms around Portia and Stacy to take hold of their breast. His hand slipped inside Portia shirt to fondle her nipple ring.
“And their ordeal was over,” said Portia peering at the painting of the breathless arrival of the cavalry with bugle blaring. The Apaches were fleeing in terror leaving the naked Slocums to greet their rescuers.
“Except that on the journey to Tucson, the Lieutenant suggested to Jeremiah that the three now defiled Slocum women show their appreciation to his men by providing sexual intercourse. As the Lieutenant pointed out to the senior Slocum, women who had been raped by the Apache did not merit the normal respect due to womankind. They were ruined women on the same level as prostitutes. Besides his men were horny and women were scarce on the frontier.”
“Some things never change,” said Stacy. “Someone rapes you and you’re damaged goods.”
“And Emily’s father agreed,” asked Portia?
“He found the Lieutenant’s argument convincing. Besides, how was he going to argue with forty armed troopers who saved him from having his balls slowly ripped off?”
“I’ve read where women on the frontier in some instances were forced to service all their male relatives,” said Portia. “A bride of one brother would wind up having sex with all the unmarried males of her husband’s family including his brothers and even his father and uncles if the wives was deceased.”
“In her narrative, Emily recounts in detail how the three Slocum women had sex with dozens of soldiers each night on the journey to Tucson. Apparently several of the troopers were from New Orleans and they introduced her to the French perversion of using their mouth to pleasure a woman’s sex. Oral sex made a big impression on Emily in her narrative but she didn’t include it in her paintings. Too embarrassed at her enjoyment of such a wicked perversion.”
“An amazing story and equally amazing illustrations. Who is the little boy in the last painting?” asked Stacy referring the final painting of Emily standing once again with her family holding the hand of a study looking male child with a mane of black hair. Katherine was holding the hand of a girl child approximately the same age as Emily’s son. The mother was holding the hand of twin boys?
“According to the text, that’s the bastard son of Mangas Colorado. How Emily would know that is beyond comprehension. This was before DNA testing. Both mother and daughters became pregnant as a result of their experience in Cook’s Canyon. If you like, I’ll email you a digital copy of Emily’s yarn.”
“I’d like that very much,” said Portia. Kendra has our email address.
“Me too, whatever happened to Emily and the Slocums,” asked Stacy.
“Settled in San Bernardino where Jeremiah opened a successful farm implement business. Emily married a Titus Loren, had four children by him, all boys, and lived to be seventy-five. Do you have any questions or comments about our play space?”
“Does this dampen the sound enough to keep the neighbors from calling the police,” asked Stacy touching the thick matted material covering the walls and ceiling?
“Yes, it’s a commercially available product used to suppress noise in office buildings. Banks use it in their automated coin counting facilities,” said Lloyd. “You can scream your head off and no one outside this room will hear a thing. Believe me, we’ve tested it.”
“How did you learn about it,” asked Portia?
“From one of the many WEB sites dedicated to supporting those in the S&M lifestyle,” said Lloyd.
“I’ve been in one of these before,” said Stacy referring to the pair of handsomely constructed punishment benches bolted to the stone floor. Stacy recalled Mistress Charlize and Simone had restrained her on an identical furnishing.
“I’m surprised because they’re not many of those in New England. In fact I don’t know of a single one. They’re made in the UK and top of the line, very expensive. Honestly, we couldn’t afford them new but an elderly couple in our group who had megabucks had to give up the lifestyle when the man developed a heart condition. They didn’t want their children and grandchildren to discover their secret life so they sold them for a fraction of what they paid.”
“I was spanked and tortured with electricity until I was out of my mind,” said Stacy running her hands over the smooth walnut finish recalling with a shudder her experience at the Auto-De-Fe.
“We’re not into electricity but spanking is on our menu,” said Lloyd looking quite pleased his wife had arranged for two such beautiful and willing young girls to dominate them.
“I told Kendra we are not experienced dominatrix but we are interested in learning and we’ve both been submissives. So we understand the basics,” said Portia.
“That’s perfectly acceptable. Kendra and I make a point of exposing the BDSM lifestyle to those who haven’t experienced it,” said Lloyd. “There are several couples right here in Lexington who were introduced to S&M by the two of us. Most dominants start out as submissives so you two are not unusual.”
“I wasn’t aware S&M was so widely practiced,” said Stacy wondering if there was a chapter in Weston and whether any of the Todds were members.
“More wide spread than you would think but of course, we don’t advertise. These plastic totes contain everything you will need, zippers, nipple clamps, ball crushers and tongue stretchers. This contraption here will be used for the first time this afternoon,” said Lloyd holding up a complicated appearing device made of leather straps and metal.
“What is it,” asked Stacy taking the device from Lloyd to examine it more closely? Stacy could tell from the shape it was intended to incase a male’s cock and balls.
“A Jakarta Cock and Ball Stretcher, it’s new, never been used before. A friend who travels to Indonesia on business bought it for me. There is a WEB site that sells them but it’s more expensive.”
“How does it work,” asked Stacy taking a firm grip on Lloyd’s trouser covered crotch? Her acute sense of touch allowed her to grip one of his testicles and squeeze it.
“You must be anxious to get started,” asked Lloyd looking pleased to be the object of Stacy’s aggressive behavior? “So am I. Cock and Ball Torture or CBT is one of my favorite S&M activities.”
“I am looking forward to making you scream,” said Stacy. It was a spontaneous move on Stacy’s part and she was pleased at Lloyd’s response. He leaned slightly forward pressing his gonad into her hand as he continued his explanation. She could tell he liked having his gonad squeezed.
“It’s simple, really. You open the device like so and put my privates inside and snap it shut. You circle this leather strap around the base of my cock and balls and pull it tight. I need to be hard before you tighten it. That won’t be a problem. I’ve been getting an erection ever since Kendra showed me the pictures you emailed and told me you were coming. These two adjustable rings fit around the base of each testicle. When you turn this wheel it stretches my left nut away from my body. This one does the right,” said Lloyd.
“Just like Jeremiah Slocum’s,” said Stacy.
“The same idea, getting your nuts stretched is dear to the heart of every CBT enthusiasts,” said Lloyd.
“They work independently of one another,” asked Portia noting how the device operated?
“Exactly, and this adjustable ring goes under the lip of my cockhead. Then you tighten it so it won’t slip. Once everything is in place you turn each of the three wheels and the connecting rods telescope stretching my parts.”
“Looks very painful,” observed Portia taking the device from Stacy to examine it more closely. “There was small sharp edges on the inside.”
“Yes, they penetrate the flesh as the device elongates. Actually, it’s not only a stretcher but a crusher,” said Lloyd.
“Who thought this up,” asked Portia?
“According to the WEB site, executioners employed by the King. The original was a combination torture and execution device. If you offended the King, they stretched your cock and balls until something ripped off and you bled to death. They worked slowly to make you suffer the maximum. And it was performed in a public square where passersby could enjoy your agonizing death.”
“Isn’t it dangerous,” asked Portia?
“No, the modern version has been altered to limit how far it will stretch,” said Lloyd
“But it will stretch you far enough to cause these pain,” asked Portia reaching down to take Lloyd’s other testicle in her hand.
“Excruiatiating agony, I’ll be screaming my head off and begging you to stop,” said Lloyd his erect penis tenting his trousers. He closed his eyes to focus on the pleasure he was feeling from the girl’s pressure on his balls.
“I am so looking forward to hearing you beg,” said Stacy finding herself turned on by the thin sheen of sweat appearing on his brow and his obvious enjoyment in the pain she was causing him.
“You will hear me. I promise,” said Lloyd his voice barely above a whisper.
“Maybe we’ll have a contest to see who screams the loudest,” said Portia as she and Stacy removed their hands from Lloyd’s testicles at the same moment.
“I’m sure Kendra and I would love to compete,” said Lloyd gasping in relief as the pressure on his gonads disappeared.
“Is there a comparable device for Kendra,” asked Portia handing back the contraption Lloyd returned to its container?
“Yes, we both have new toys for you to use on us,” said Lloyd reaching into a storage container labeled ‘Breasts’ to extract a device whose shape resembled a brassiere with cups consisting of two wire baskets.
“Let me guess, Jakarta Tit Crushers,” said Portia taking the contraption from Lloyd to examine it more closely.
“A logical guess but wrong, this nasty little instrument is modeled after a torture implement developed during the final years of the Inquisition. It’s called Satan’s Breasts. It was used to extract confessions from suspected female heretics,” said Lloyd.
“They also have pins,” said Stacy noting the inside was lined with needle like pins. She felt a surge of excitement as she imagined the sharp points entering Kendra’s sizeable breasts from every direction.
“Yes, the idea is similar to the Jakarta Cock Stretcher except you capture the base of the breast in the large ring and the base of the nipple in the small one. This wheel on the front causes the basket to change shape. Turn it and see,” said Lloyd.
“Evil,” said Portia noting how the basket became narrower and longer.
“Did the heretics confess,” asked Stacy?
“Everyone confessed unless they were lucky enough to collapse and die which got their torturers in big trouble,” said Lloyd.
“Why was he in trouble,” asked Portia?
“Because he sent a soul to hell without giving it a chance to confess and repent,” said Lloyd. “A grave error in those religious times. Dying on your torturer’s hands was likely to get him declared a familiar of Lucifer and sentenced to be burned alive at the next Auto-De-Fe.”
“And Kendra has never experienced this,” asked Portia?
“No, FedEx only delivered it yesterday. Kendra insisted on something new to wear for your visit,” said Lloyd.
“I hope she enjoys wearing them as much as we enjoy putting them on her,” said Stacy handing back the Satan’s Breast.
“Those are interesting, St. Andrew’s crosses, I believe,” said Portia referring to the two large X-shaped crosses mounted on circular metal plates occupying one end of the room.
“Correct, but with some special features I added myself. I modified the basic design to make them more functional. Of course, the St. Andrews represents classic sado-masochism. The slave is utterly at his mistress’s mercy,” said Lloyd moving to the X-shaped furnishing. “I started from plans I got off the Internet, a site named Satan’s Hardware.” Lloyd pushed a button on a control box and the cross began to slowly rotate. “See, you can alternate between whipping the back and front of the slave.”
“You made these yourself,” asked Portia pressing a switch causing the other St. Andrew’s cross to turn?
“Not entirely, my younger brothers, Leo and Lionel, own a machine shop in Lowell. They fabricated the rotating base plates and motorized them but I put everything else together after about a dozen trips to Home Depot,” said Lloyd. “They’ll be over later but they’re strictly vanilla.”
“Very impressive,” said Portia twisting the dial causing the cross to spin faster.
“Once you get Kendra and I secured, you can turn us upside down by releasing the brake like so and slowly turning this crank. It’s counter balanced so it moves easily,” said Lloyd demonstrating how to alter the cross’ position. “Once we’re upside down, you can start us spinning again. Having your privates whipped while spinning upside down is something every submissive should experience.”
“An amazing reproduction,” said Portia referring to the enormous oil painting hanging on the wall behind the crosses.
“Yes, the one object of art in this room that is not an original. Of course if it were I’d have to be one of the world’s richest men. I saw it on eBay and could not resist. A talented art student with a gift for mimicry painted it,” said Lloyd as he flicked a wall switch causing the painting to be illuminated. “According to the paperwork, she spent six months in the Cleveland Museum of Art studying the original.”
“Enlighten me,” said Stacy studying the impressive oil painting.
“The original is called the Crucifixion of St. Andrew. Caravaggio painted it in 1607. He was the bad boy homosexual of the great Renaissance masters, a drinker and brawler without equal. The original is priceless, hundreds of millions.”
“It’s beautiful and terrible all at the same time,” said Stacy studying the anguished face of the saint as the Romans nailed his wrists to the rough wood.
At that moment, Lloyd’s cell phone rang. It was Kendra summoning them to lunch.
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