At first I'd been horrified. How awful. How cruel and sadistic. This author was twisted and misogynistic. Why I kept reading them, I don't know. They were all the same; treating women like no more that consumables to be used and physically abused.

I'd stumbled on the site quite by accident; who hasn't done that? An innocent Googling of some innoxious topic, and shock, horror, photos of fucking and sucking - well, if that's all it is, it's quite a pleasant surprise, but this site that I'd just come across was something else.

I shut the computer and went about my business for the day. The strange thing was, I couldn't get the thoughts of those awful stories out of my mind.

I work in the office of a small engineering company, and have lots of men coming in for one thing and another, most of them business like, but there's always the few that you feel are ogling your breasts, or legs, or backside. I usually take this sort of thing as a compliment, but this day I kept wondering if they were really thinking of torturing me as I'd been reading in those stories. I found that I experienced a certain sexiness at this idea, but then was disgusted at myself for such thoughts, and put that out of my mind.

After dinner that night, with my husband busy watching football on the T.V., I sat at the table with my laptop, and Googled that same search that I'd done in the morning, and there it was again, "BDSM Library." I glanced across at my husband, and I felt a pang of guilt as I opened yet another of those same twisted and depraved stories.

________________________________________________________

I couldn't help myself. It was several weeks ago that I'd first stumbled on that BDSM site, and ever since then I'd not stopped looking at it. Again and again I'd half thought of registering and leaving some sort of message on the Forum pages, but goodness, I was a married woman, respectable, and not at all like that.

I felt so lustful. Yes, I'll do it.

My finger hesitated over the 'submit' link, but then I clicked it.

I sat there for a brief moment before then leaving a single line on the forum page.

It was the next day before I received any message. Having only written such a brief message myself, I was lucky to get anything, but there it was, from some unknown guy - "Hi, slut. Welcome to the site."

I wasn't really a slut, I thought to myself; but then a voice in my head told me that of course I was a slut, decent women don't come to these sorts of sites.

I typed a reply: "Thanks. Now that I'm here I don't quite know what to do."

I knew that by typing this answer, the implication was that I accepted the title of "slut."

I felt sexy and a vague feeling of self pride in being seen as a slut.

___________________________________________________________

Things had rapidly escalated since that first tentative foray onto the Forum. Several men were now conversing with me, and their dialogue was crude and degrading. I loved it and felt so sexy and lustful. Thank God that my husband had no idea that his wife was doing this sort of thing.

____________________________________________________________

I'd felt quite safe, all of these men lived miles away and they had no idea of who I was. That all changed after some weeks, when a guy contacted me, and I found that he lived relatively nearby.

_____________________________________________________________

I found the address that he'd given. It was a house in a good neighbourhood, the garden was flourishing, and there was a new car in the driveway, all of which, for some reason, gave me a little more confidence and made me feel safer.

The door opened. He grinned broadly, simply said hello, and then enclosed me in his arms and kissed me passionately. For my part, I probably looked terrified and couldn't even bring myself to utter a word.

His kiss relaxed me. It was long and loving. Our lips were parted, our tongues slid together. My arms embraced him as his did to me. Eventually our kiss finished, though he still held me tight. "Do you, um ... want to talk first or ...... um just get to it?" he asked.

I felt so embarrassed. I couldn't look him in the eye. "Let's just do it," I shamefully whispered.

He led the way to the bedroom. I gasped. Across the head of the bed he'd arranged a timber device consisting of an A frame on either side, with a sturdy cross piece supporting ropes and shackles running across and above the bed. Arranged on the carpet to one side of the bed was a formidable array of whips, lashes, dildos, vibrators, some sort of electrical device and a camera. To one side of this equipment, a tripod supported video equipment.

I stood there, eyes downcast as he stripped me off. I knelt, naked on the bed as he quickly stripped. His cock was a thing of beauty, hard, red, giving little twitches as his lust engorged it. The head looked ready to explode, so hard and tight was it. He turned towards me and placed his hands on my head as a priest might in giving a blessing. I eagerly opened my mouth and took the sacrament of his cock with its dribbling precum. I sucked lovingly and expertly, keeping my teeth well out of the way and using my tongue to good effect. "You filthy, fucking bitch," he groaned in delight, and gave my cheek a stinging slap. I loved him for the gift, and sucked more vigorously.

Another moment and his cum would have filled my mouth, but he pulled away and grabbed up a handful of my hair, twisting it so that I gave a squeal of pain. I was whimpering and holding myself so as to minimize the pulling of my hair. He let go and ordered me, in a sneering voice, to lay back on the bed.

I quickly wriggled up to where the pillows where at the head end of the bed, and lay back with my head propped on the pillows. Peter then pulled in leather straps that attached to the A frames at the side of the bed. In moments my wrists were secured with my arms outstretched to either side.

He bent down and selected a flat, leather strap. I felt a shudder run through my body.

"I suppose, you stupid cunt," (I flinched at his use of that crude word,) "that you promised your husband that you'd be true and faithful to him," he said with a look of amusement on his face. I saw his mocking humour, and a smile came to my face. "Yes," I answered with a smirk. His face broke out into an open laugh seeing that I shared the deprecation of my marriage vows. "Well I'd best not mark you too much, or he'll be carrying on about you being a dirty, fucking whore and a slut." We grinned broadly at each other, enjoying his mockery of my husband.

The smile left my face in a moment, as the wide, flat leather came thrashing down across my breasts. "Arrrgh!" I shrieked, my face twisting into a grimace of pain.

"This is what harlots such as yourself like to get," Peter sneered spitefully.

"Oh God!" I thought to myself, "I read about this sort of thing and now I'm getting it. I was scared, but I was thrilled and felt so incredibly sexy and worked up. My pussy dribbled slightly so that I felt a trickle of juice run down between the cheeks of my ass.

The strap came thrashing down again, on a different angle this time so that it lashed at the side of one breast. I screamed. I couldn't help it. I lay there half gasping, half sobbing.

I watched as the belt was wielded back behind Peter's shoulder and then sizzled through the air with a whizzing sound which stopped abruptly as the leather bit into my soft flesh. I screamed uncontrollably.

The belt now began flashing through the air, striking me and then being rapidly raised ready for the next onslaught against the tenderness of my breasts. Again and again and again, the blows came raining down in quick succession. I was screaming continually. My body was bucking about on the bed, my legs kicking wildly and my shoulders heaving from side to side but unable to move but a few inches, held securely by the leather straps securing my wrists. The tears were pouring from my eyes. My chest was heaving as I gasped for shallow breaths in between my frantic screams of pain.

Maybe forty or fifty lashes struck my poor, brutalized breasts before Peter relinquished his hold on the strap. He was panting himself, so vigorous had been his exercising of the leather strap. I lay there blubbering, my eyes red and puffy, with my face and neck wet with tears.

Peter was inspecting his handiwork, lightly fondling my battered breasts. I lifted my head and looked down. My breasts and all of the area around them was bright red, overlaid with raised, fiery red welts covering my small breasts which were already beginning to puff up in a swelling that was to last for the best part of the week to come.

My bonds were undone and Peter sat watching me as I regained my sanity and ruefully rubbed my sore and tender breasts. After a minute he shoved me aside and lay out on the bed, holding his hard, lusting cock erect. "O.K. bitch," he snapped, "get on top and fuck me."

I needed no urging. I quickly got into position, kneeling astride his hips. I raised myself slightly, then adjusting my position, I eased down so that my pussy engulfed his lovely cock. I sighed with delight as I let myself sit right down hard on him, feeling his cock deep inside my body. I was so wet and slippery that his cock made slight slurping sounds as my body rose and fell, pumping myself lustfully onto his hard, erect cock.

"Fuck! you look beautiful," he said meaningfully as he gazed at me. "Oh sure," I responded, aware that my face must look a mess after all of my howling. "No, true!" he exclaimed, "you look really fucked up after your bawling. "Oh," I laughed, coming to grips with what he meant by beautiful. "Next time though," he said, "don't wear waterproof make up; I like to see it streaming down over your cheeks so that you look a real fucking mess."

I fucked Peter for some minutes before he told me to stop, adding that he'd cum if I kept it up. I ceased my movement, and he then told me to lean forward towards him. I did, not knowing what was to come. I thought that perhaps he wanted to kiss. I couldn't have been more wrong. His hand swung back and my head jerked as he hit me hard with the flat of his hand. "You fucking cunt-bitch," he snapped as I pulled away feeling slightly dazed. "Come on whore, I haven't finished yet," he sneered maliciously. I leaned towards him again and received another head jolting slap from the other direction. "Now get on all fours like the fucking animal that you are," I was told. I was mounted from behind and was fucked with such ferocity that I was nearly knocked flat with each forward thrust of his body driving his cock hard into my pussy.

That violent form of fucking lasted but a short while, Peter no doubt holding himself in check lest he cum too soon. "Do you take it up your ass?" he asked crudely. I answered in the negative, but he simply gave a grunt and said, "well that's what you're going to get slut." Already he was slathering some sort of greasy gunk over my anal hole, and working a couple of fingers in as well. I felt him locating the head of his cock, and then felt him pushing forward, at the same time feeling his cock pushing inside me in this unnatural way. It didn't hurt as such, but his hard cock must have been rearranging the internal layout of my intestines because I could feel it each time he shoved his cock right the way home.

I suppose, because I was so tight on his cock, he couldn't keep that up for so long. He pulled out and told me to hold my position. I couldn't know what he was doing up behind me, but I felt something large entering into my backside and slowly sliding in quite deeply. We were both quiet so that I heard the slight click of the switch, and my body was then filled with the pleasant vibrations of the dildo, something I'd never before experienced.

"O.K. whore, hold that in and roll over onto your back" I was told; I did that and was rewarded with another vibrating dildo, of large diameter, being slid up into my pussy. I now held both of these devices into my two holes, and was largely enjoying the sensation. Peter next fiddled with the electrical device that I'd earlier noticed, and I was soon being randomly jolted with bolts of electricity emanating from the two metal probes that Peter began poking into various parts of my body, but then beginning to concentrate almost exclusively on my breasts. I was jumping and gasping. "Ow! Yow!" and with each exclamation I leapt with the short, sharp shrill of pain that the probes delivered into my body.

I reached a point where I would hardly have been able to keep going with this electrocuting game of Peter's. Perhaps he sensed this, but for whatever reason I was so very relieved when he put that device to one side and took up a pink plastic gadget.  I immediately found that this was another vibrator. He skillfully began working on my pussy with it, and in just a few minutes I was in heaven. I knew that I was rapidly approaching an orgasm as I lay back in a blissful ecstasy and let my body surrender to the wonderful sensations.

I moaned and groaned lustfully. My body arched, pressing my pussy upwards onto the vibrator. The sensations where heavenly. Oh God, it was too much, I was being driven insane. It was too gorgeous, too wonderful to bear any more. I was moaning in a lustful frenzy. "Fuck! Fuck! Fu.............................ck !!!!!  I had to push Peter away and I did so as I brought my knees up and moaned with absolute delight. Peter laughed, "you love being a slut, don't you bitch?"   "Oh God, yes." I agreed with honesty.

My mind and body were in a state of complete surrender. I felt that Peter could do anything that he wanted with me. I lay there happily watching as he once more secured my wrists as before, then watched submissively as he attached leather gauntlets around each ankle, then looped the ropes from these gauntlets up over the beam supported by the two A frame sections.

Peter pulled on the ropes so that first my legs where lifted high into the air, and then gradually, as he worked my body higher and higher, bit by bit, I slowly was pulled into an upside down position, until I hung there supported from my ankles. My view was very limited, as my head, in that upside down position, faced directly onto the wall. I didn't need to see to know what was happening to me though. I heard the whizz of the lash as it cut through the air at a rapid rate. Thwack - the leather cord struck one side of my buttocks and then continued on, slashing across both of the cheeks of my backside and then continuing on, wrapping around over my hip and winding itself around my belly. The pain,  sharp, biting, and crippling, raced through my body and into my brain. I screamed in a shock of pain that filled my entire being. Peter gave the whip several flicks to loosen it from around my body. I then saw it snake back out of my vision, and I knew that I was in store for another such horrendous lash. I howled "no.o.o.o.o!" through my sobbing tears, but heard the whizzing noise as the lash sped towards my helpless body. Again the whip struck and twisted around my body, this time higher, somewhere up around my waist. The pain was horrendous. My body, even though hanging helplessly like a carcass, shook and spasmed, causing me to swing about on the rope.

I screamed, I howled, I pleaded for mercy, all to no avail. The lash kept thrashing my helpless body as I spun and swung about hung from my ankles. I had no idea at the time, of how many of these cruel, spiteful, brutal lashes I received, though Peter told me later that it was twenty.

I was screaming, howling, bawling uncontrollably, my brain empty of all thought other than the awful pain. I was going mad, my brain being driven to insanity by this violent and brutal treatment. Finally Peter stopped and loosened the ropes so that my wrecked body slid down awkwardly onto the bed. I lay there, howling pitifully.

Peter was undoing my bonds. Hushing me and trying to calm my wretched sobbing. "It's all right," he said soothingly, "you've had enough of that."

I began to slowly regain my senses. Peter was kneeling astride my head. I was still blubbering in abject misery as he took my head in his hands and began roughly to fuck my mouth. He grasped my hair and began savagely thrusting his lust gorged cock into my mouth, jamming into my cheeks and then thrusting right to the back of my gullet and making me cough and choke. I felt him taking a tighter grip on my hair, hurting me and making me squeal, then he most deliberately pushed his cock into my mouth, right to the back and into my throat. My stomach muscles began to heave violently as my body tried to vomit out the cock that was choking me. My eyes streamed with tears and my brain reeled as I suffocated for breath. He eventually pulled out leaving me heaving and gagging and coughing violently, my spittle running from my mouth and down over my cheeks. I was still raspingly gasping in mouthfuls of air as he again began choking me with his cock. I tried to twist my head to get free but his fists clutching my hair held me rigidly in position. Again my body was reacting violently, heaving, choking, my stomach muscles aching from their violent reactions to my body being throttled. He began to get more violent and brutal, pounding his cock down my throat, his body slamming into my face so that I thought that he'd break my nose. Suddenly his body stiffened and he held his position with his cock deep down inside my throat as his cum gushed forth. I was semi-conscious when he withdrew, leaving me gasping violently, choking, coughing, my throat emiting rasping, whistling noises as my body tried to draw breath once more.

I finally began to breathe again in a rapid gasping manner, and my brain began to slowly clear a little. I lay there, an absolute wreck, my entire body sore, aching, my mind dazed.

My bonds were fully removed now. Peter led me stumbling and unsteady, to the bathroom where I made an attempt to wash my face and tidy myself.

A half hour later, still naked and sitting on the sofa, I drank the coffee that Peter offered. I at last began to feel, physically and mentally, that I could continue living and go home to my unsuspecting husband.

_________________________________________________________

Epilogue:

At home, later on, I showered and tried to make myself look normal before my husband arrived home from work. I was happy that I'd experienced that terrible treatment, though I considered that it would be the only time, and that I would never want to go through anything like it again.

I didn't contact Peter until just over a week later, and when I did, I thanked him for what he'd done to me, and sent him loving kisses.

A month later I began thinking, "well, perhaps I could do it just one more time."