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Further Adventures of Susan Adams Ch. 03

THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF SUSAN ADAMS 3 (of 7)

As it happened, Don was not there, so they went up to the bedroom to rest and wait. They were still on a "high" from their erotic afternoon, with Jean teasing Susan about her indecent behavior. "I think I'll tell Don about you showing yourself off like that, and I'll bet he'll give you a real spanking for being a bad girl!"

"Yeah, then I'll tell him about you and the UPS man -- I'll bet you won't sit down for a week!" Actually, Don undoubtedly wouldn't care and might even be interested in hearing the details, but the empty threats were fun.

"Well, if I can't squeal on you, I'll spank you myself!" With that, she pulled Susan over and began applying mock swats on to her behind, saying, "I'll teach you to show your pussy off! Bad girl!" The struggle and the brief, mock spanking ended in laughter, but Susan's face soon took on a pensive look that surprised Jean.

"You know, I really have changed. We're kidding around, kidding around like this, but I remember my reaction when Jim playfully spanked me just after we were married. I blew up and I really didn't understand why. When you spanked me the first time, I fought like mad. I was already in a terrible mood and was furious that you would do such a humiliating thing to me -- plus it hurt. Still it was just anger and mortification, nothing more. Since then, you and Don have spanked me many times and I've accepted it as part of our relationship. But, there was one time that everything was different -- that time when you did it at the cabin with John and Cynthia Stuart. You remember?" [Sex and Susan Adams, Part 8]

"Gods, yes! You were a squirming, twisting wildcat. You even tried to bite me!"

"I know. I told you then that seeing Cynthia's silhouette against the water, her hair and her shape looked just like my mother. What really happened was that I had a sudden flash of a horrible memory that I had suppressed for years. No, actually I had remembered the event but had repressed the psychological impact to, I think, avoid mental pain. I told you then that I would tell you about it sometime so you could understand the way I reacted. I think that now would be a good time to do so."

"Look, Susan, I'll admit that I've been curious about your reactions that day, but you positively don't need to explain or to talk about something so painful."

"Don't be silly! As I said, it's something that happened a long time ago, and I had put it out of my mind until Cynthia triggered it. I've never told anyone about it, even Jim, but maybe talking about it would help. I think you're the only one I could tell. It happened when I was about 15 or so, back home when I was in the tenth grade. It was in the spring, a Wednesday when we only had a half day of school. I was taking biology and I always studied with a neighbor, Charley Simmons, who lived in the same block. We were sitting on the porch, looking at our biology lesson, which, unfortunately, was on human reproduction. Even covering that subject in school had been fought by the church, but it was required by state law. In the book, there was a drawing of the male reproductive organs, and, sort of guiltily, I said that I couldn't understand how such a system worked. I assure you, I was completely innocent, and meant just what I said. I just didn't see how it worked. The drawing just showed a round bag-like thing called 'testicles' and a drooping thing called a 'penis.' Now, I knew that the penis was supposed to go into the woman, but I just couldn't see how a limp-looking thing like that could do it. The text talked about an 'erection,' but I had no idea how that would work or, for that matter, how it would change things."

*****************************

Susan looked at the book, completely confused, and said to Charley, "I just don't understand how that would work. That drawing doesn't tell me anything!"

Before she could go any further, Charley eagerly blurted out, "Here, I'll show you." With that, he quickly opened his pants and pulled them and his shorts down to his thighs.

Susan's reaction was to put her hand to her mouth while gasping, "Charley! For heaven's sakes, what are you doing? Put your pants back on -- I can't look at that!" She was absolutely stunned, never even have seen a picture of the male organ, and she certainly knew that she shouldn't see Charley's.

"Don't be silly, Susan! We're not doing anything! I just want you to see how it works so you can understand the drawing. Come on; pretend it's just a lesson." His approach was a good one, and in the safety of the afternoon, on her own porch, Susan didn't feel threatened. Actually, she never thought of anything but that "it wasn't right," not that there was any sexual context. Therefore, succumbing to his argument, and, admittedly, her own curiosity, she looked.

What she saw was a 15-year old, semi-erect cock, belonging to a boy who wasn't either as innocent in intent as he said or confident enough to already be hard. However, as Susan actually looked at it, his excitement grew and she saw the shaft actually quivering as it started to elongate. Despite her reservations, she was fascinated, and, as it became erect, she had a direct and personal explanation of how it worked. As it stuck up, relatively majestically (he was only 15), she finally understood how it could, in fact, enter a woman.

Needless to say, Charley's hormones were rampaging, and, pushing the issue, he suggested, hoarsely, that she touch it. Susan whispered, "Oh, I shouldn't," but her hand was already reaching out. She was startled at the heat emanating from it as she tentatively touched it with her fingertip. She lightly ran her finger up and down it, fascinated by the feel of the soft skin and, at his urging, circled it with several fingers, sliding them up and down. Charley was in heaven, a pretty girl playing with his cock, unknowingly masturbating it for him. As his excitement built, he encouraged her to move her hand faster and to watch closely and he would show her how it worked. Intrigued, Susan did as he asked, working her hand vigorously and leaning forward, watching the tip closely to see what would happen. Suddenly, and without warning, it exploded, sending a jet of thick, white material all over Susan's face and down over her hand. Startled, she jerked back, her mouth falling open in surprise, just in time to receive a second discharge.

Susan jumped away, sputtering, her mouth full of a strange liquid, some of which she spat out, much she was forced to swallow. After gasping and choking, she finally was able to get her breath, beginning to cry as she finally began to realize what had happened. Charley was almost as surprised as she, never having shot off so vigorously before, jerked his pants up, and just sat there, not knowing what to do. Finally, he pulled out a handkerchief and tried to wipe off her face, really afraid of the repercussions as she continued to cry. Finally, Susan blurted, clearly frightened, "Oh, Charley, I swallowed all of that stuff. Will it get me pregnant? What should I do?"

Immensely relieved, Charley reassured her, "Of course you can't get pregnant that way. The cock has to be in your cunt when it goes off to get you pregnant!"

That was the first time Susan had heard the words "cock" (in that context) and "cunt," but she quickly grasped the meaning as a wave of relief went through her. "Are you sure? It went into me!" Taking the textbook, Charley finger was able to convince her that conception could only take place in the vagina, not the mouth. With the weight of the world off her shoulders, Susan calmed down and went inside to clean herself off. For Charley, the real relief was that Susan had calmed down and didn't seem to blame him. Actually, he was almost euphoric, a girl has played with his cock, had really "jacked" him off and, in some ways, most exciting of all, had actually swallowed his cum -- not quite sucking him, but close. With that heady success, he began to think of greater things, like any teenage boy, wondering if he could get her to go further!

After about fifteen minutes, Susan came back out, smiling shyly as she looked at him, embarrassed by the unexpected intimacy. When asked if she was all right, she said she was, but still seemed somewhat hesitant. However, when he asked, "Do you want to go on studying'? If you don't, we can wait until later."

She replied, quickly, "We'd better do it now. The exam on these new chapters is Friday and that doesn't leave much time." So, taking the textbook, they started again. When she looked at the drawing of the male organs, Susan said, ruefully, "I guess I know how it works now!" T hen, showing her powers of recovery, she giggled a little bit, adding, "You really gave a demonstration -- maybe you should do that again in class!"

"No way! Once is enough," was the instant reply! That broke the ice, putting both of them at ease, and they returned to work.

Everything went well, and things were easy between them again, until they started the next chapter, the female reproductive organs. There was a side view drawing, showing the pubic mound, the clitoris, the vaginal lips, the entrance into the vagina and into the anus, with the convoluted passageways inside. Quite a detailed drawing, leaving little to the imagination and nothing to misunderstand. Nonetheless, Charley immediately suggested that he needed to see the real thing. Faced with Susan's shocked refusal, he said that it wasn't fair. He had shown her how the male equipment worked and, as a result, she understood the entire process first hand. It was only right that she let him have the same chance to learn.

The argument went on for some time, she insisting that it was different, he that it was the same. Nothing is more persistent that a teenage boy trying to get something from a teenage girl, and bit by bit, he succeeded, wearing her down like drops of water on stone. Finally, and very reluctantly, she capitulated, reaching slowly up under her skirt and, not looking at him, pulled her panties down and off. Then, hiding her face with her hands, she drew her legs up, parting them as the skirt slid to her lap. She sat there, wide open, letting him feast his eyes on her virgin cunt. It was the first he had ever seen, and, for several minutes, he simply stared. It was a fully developed cunt, the hair somewhat sparse as compared with what would grow there later, but the blond curls covering the outer-lips provided a frame to better display the pink insides. Susan was peeking out to see his reaction as he reached in to feel her, waiting for the first contact ever on her cunt. At that moment, the greatest disaster of Susan's life occurred. The door opened and her mother came out.

From the doorway she saw her daughter, her cunt on display, ready to be fondled by a boy. "SUSAN!" she shrieked, what are you doing?" Susan tried to cover herself, but, obviously it was far too late. Charley, without stopping to think, vaulted over the railing into some rose bushes and, covered with bloody scratches, ran off toward home -- where later he would get the thrashing of his life. Susan, however, had nowhere to go. Her mother, livid with fury, grabbed her by the arm and literally dragged her into the house and up the stairs. Flinging her into the bedroom, she snatched up a hairbrush from the dresser, threw Susan down over her knee, pulled up her skirt, and began a vicious spanking of her bare behind.

As her arm came up and whipped down to smack cruelly onto her soft bottom, she began a series of equally cruel cries, "Slut." Smack! "Little bitch." Smack! "I'l1 teach you to let a boy play with you!" Smack! "You want to show your pussy off, huh!" Smack! "Did you let him screw you?" Smack.....! The smooth, pink skin of Susan's hips was crisscrossed with welts from the unmerciful paddling, crimson streaks that promised to be bruises. Her mother's wrath continued unabated, her verbal attacks becoming even more hateful, using language Susan never would have expected to hear, words she wouldn't even recognize. However, Susan never even heard those words, uttered almost incoherently as her mother's rage fed upon itself and her fury mounted.

All Susan could do was scream in pain as the hairbrush hit, crying, "I didn't do anything" over and over. Smack, smack, smack.....smack, the brutal spanking went on and on, until, after one particularly hard blow, the handle of the hairbrush snapped.

Further enraged by that, her mother flung the brush away, stood up, dumping Susan onto the floor, and stomped out of the room and down the stairs, muttering, "We'll see what Nora Simpkins will say about this!"

Susan lay huddled on the floor, crying both in pain and confusion and horribly frightened. In the church to which the family belonged, Deaconess Nora Simpkins was the unofficial, and self-appointed supervisor of the morals of the young people in the congregation. Given free reign by most of the parents, she was feared and loathed by those she had power to punish. Hearing that detested name was enough to send Susan into a new paroxysm of tears, knowing that her troubles were just beginning. Over her own cries, she could hear her mother on the phone downstairs, ranting about her depraved daughter, and while she couldn't hear the words, the tone was enough.

Within one-half hour, Susan heard the front door open and her mother's voice, still shrill, leading the way upstairs. She looked up fearfully as a different voice snarled, "So, we have a nasty little girl here, huh. Well, we'll soon cure that." Nora Simpkins towered over Susan even when Susan was on her feet. From her position on the floor, she looked like a building looming over her. Nearly six feet tall, 220 pounds, Simpkins terrorized mischievous children with her sheer bulk, but, she loved to scourge more serious offenders with physical punishment. She looked forward with sadist pleasure to the chastisement of a tender young girl who everyone thought of as being good and immune from her ministrations. Actually, she was a sadist who took pleasure in dominating and inflicting pain on others. Today she probably would have been arrested for assault or "risking injury to minors."

Entering the room with ponderous strides, she reached down and roughly grabbed Susan, throwing her onto the bed. "Take off your skirt," she ordered, "I understand you've already lost your panties." This last was said with a knowing smirk, but in a tone that brooked no argument. When Susan started to protest, anyway, Simpkins hand shot out, seized her by her blouse, and repeated, in even more threatening tones, "Take off your skirt!" Shaking with fear, Susan undid the fastener and pushed the skirt down and off, lying back naked below the waist. Then, the most embarrassing and mortifying thing ever done to Susan took place.

Pushing her flat on her back on the bed, Simpkins took hold of her ankles and pulled them over her head, her knees almost at her shoulders, separating her legs until it felt as if she were being pulled apart. She lay there, held by her ankles, everything between her legs spread wide open, completely exposed. When instructed to do so, Susan's mother knelt on the bed at Susan's head, taking hold of her ankles and keeping her entire crotch displayed. Simpkins reached in, spread the cunt lips even wider with one hand, and, without warning, worked one of her beefy fingers into Susan's dry vagina, worming it in despite the cries of pain she elicited. Finally, and it seemed, almost reluctantly, she announced, "Well, she's still a virgin. I guess he didn't get into her anyway."

Susan's mother sighed, "Thank heavens for that anyway! But, she still was showing herself off!"

"Don't worry about that! When I finish, she'll know better." With that, she reached for her favorite instrument, a spring steel, yardstick-like paddle which had a rough leather cover, the end of which was a flat, flexible, silver dollar--sized plate. When the paddle came down and hit, the flexible end would snap down like the tip of a whip, causing excruciating pain. With no further comment or warning, she raised it over her head and brought the paddle down with devastating force on Susan's unprotected cunt. As it descended, there was an audible swishing noise, ending with a sharp "snap," followed instantly with an ear-shattering scream from Susan. With sadistic pleasure, Simpkins raised it again, and the "swish," "snap", "scream" sequence was repeated. To an observer, it would have been clear that the blows were not being struck randomly. In her position, the cunt lips were pulled open and the blows hit first one side and then the other, working upwards toward the top. As the paddle came down and the flexible tip struck, the lips were smashed downward, rebounding as the paddle was pulled back. Inch by inch, the paddle moved upwards, leaving no spot untouched. Finally, it reached the top and she hesitated a moment before bringing it down cruelly, directly on the clit. The pain was unbearable and Susan twisted and struggled, but her efforts were unavailing. Three times the tip struck directly on the clit, and, then, Simpkins began retracing the path backwards, pausing between strokes to maximize the pain.

Now, however, there was a variation. As the blows landed, Simpkins paused, giving Susan a chance to repent her indecent behavior and promise chastity in the future. At each interlude, Simpkins would demand that she admit her iniquities, calling on her, for example, to, "confess your sins, girl, and be forgiven by God and the church. Tell us what all you've done!" Actually, she loved hearing the details of the immoral behavior of her charges, behavior that gave her reason to apply more punishment.

Susan would not cooperate, however, demonstrating recalcitrance seemingly foreign to her nature, refusing to break, insisting time and again that, "I didn't do anything! I didn't do anything," a mantra she repeated over and over every time.

Her unwavering defiance infuriated Simpkins and, muttering under her breath, "stubborn few bitch applied the paddle more viciously, but pausing even longer between strokes to let the pain sink in.

Delaying between blows gave Susan time to recover and dread the next one, to hope it wouldn't come, only to hear the "swish" start. In some ways, the "swish" was almost as bad as the "snap" -- until the "snap" came. Giving up on her efforts to "save" Susan, Simpkins devoted herself to the sadistic pleasure of seeing her squirm and hearing her scream, no longer even asking for repentance. Working all the way back, the paddle hit on the tender flesh of the perineum, causing pain in a new area, eliciting more cries and moans from her victim. Finally, the end was reached, and, with deadly accuracy, Simpkins brought the paddle down so that the devastating impact of the tip was right between the cheeks, directly on the exposed asshole. Susan's scream of anguish was music to her ears, so, with that same uncanny accuracy, she hit it three more times before moving on. Slowly, swish, snap, "scream," the lips were scourged again as the tool moved upwards, but with a difference. Now, the tip was also permitted to land directly between the lips, sinking into the cunt, actually disappearing several times into the hole, itself. Reaching the clit, again, Simpkins concentrated her attack, hitting it directly four or five times until, unable to take any more, Susan fainted.

Finally, maternal instincts took over and, stopping the beating, her mother dropped her ankles and Susan's limp body was permitted to fall to the bed. This probably prevented permanent injury. After escorting Nora Simpkins to the door, and receiving condolences for her daughter's unseemly behavior and the hope that the rigorous "correction" would cure her, she came back up and revived Susan with a cold compress. As Susan lay there moaning in agony, her only comment was, "I hope you learned your lesson! Your sisters never did anything like that. What on earth got into you? The church and I have taught you right from wrong! Now, you just lie there and think of what you've done and I'll send Lucy up with some ice."
Shortly afterwards, Susan's sister, Lucy, brought a bag of crushed ice and placed it between Susan's legs, commenting, "Boy, she really did a job on you. You deserved it, though. What a thing to do -- and right on the front porch!" That was the closest thing to sympathy that Susan received as she slowly recovered.

Susan didn't go to school the next day, nor did she take the exam on Friday. By Thursday morning, after a horrendous night, Susan looked as if she had two large sausages between her legs. Her cunt lips were swollen to twice their normal size, the skin purple and stretched so taut that it looked as if it would burst if touched. She literally could not get her legs together and, when getting up to go to the bathroom, she had to walk spraddle-legged, keeping her thighs wide apart to minimize the pain. The process of elimination, front or back, was sheer agony, both apertures having been the center of numerous "snaps," and were, as a result, virtually swollen shut. Fortunately, the leather covered paddle caused deep bruises, but did not out the flesh, so she was spared open wounds between her legs, at least. Her bottom was badly bruised, also, showing the imprint of the hairbrush in purplish-blue streaks, making even lying on her back uncomfortable. However, in comparison with the soreness in her crotch, that was a minor inconvenience. All she could do all day was lie in bed, holding ice, when available, against all the tender tissues -- and think decidedly unchristian thoughts about Charley, her mother, her sisters and, heading the list, Nora Simpkins.

The swelling finally was down enough to go to school on Monday, but it was a very painful day. She could hardly sit on her bruised bottom and her cunt lips still caused her to walk funny as she tried to contact. Harshest of all, word of her punishment for some, unspecified, immoral act had spread all over the little school, and, all day, she could see behind-the-hand whispers and knowing looks thrown her way. She kept up a brave front, but her tears flowed freely when she was home in her room. All this because she had innocently (she had been innocent, anyway) exposed her cunt.

It was almost a full week before the swelling went down and the color began to return to normal. The bruises on her bottom faded about the same time, but the soreness between the cheeks, the tender area around the opening, persisted for some time after that. Longest lasting, however, was the swelling and inflammation around her clit. Eventually, even that subsided, but it was a good three months before she could touch the clit, itself, without wincing. Long after the physical pain was gone, however, the mental torment continued -- the sense of being mistreated, of being misunderstood and mistrusted. Worst of all was the sense of alienation from her mother, sisters and the church. Also, she never studied with Charley again.

*************************

"It was a long time before I could put that trauma behind me, but I finally did. Actually, I think that I had buried that experience so deeply that, as I told you before, when Jim playfully spanked me, I reacted outrageously, but I honestly didn't know why. The same thing was true when you spanked me that first time; I fought so hard just because I was outraged at you doing such a thing to me, not because of what happened years ago -- and, also, the spanking hurt!

"Oh honey, I wish I'd known."

"Now, don't be ridiculous. We've been over this before, and I've told you that your spanking was the best thing that has happened to me in years. It got me out of my funk and permitted me to start living normally again. Anyway, I try to look at the bright side, and the memory didn't bother me anymore until the sudden triggering occurred at the cabin with Cynthia Stuart."

"But, what bright spot came out of that other spanking -- if you could call it that? That woman should have been locked up! I can't think of anything good that could come from a sadistic beating like that!"

"Actually, several things. It woke me up. Without that, I probably would have stayed there, married a clod like my sisters' husbands and stayed in that church. I recognized afterwards that the "church" was nothing more than a cult, controlling people's lives, telling them exactly how to act, how to think. To be fair, neither my mother or my sisters took pleasure in hurting me, but all three were so programed by their church that there was no middle ground. You either were pure or a sinner, with nothing in between, and I, potentially, at least, was a sinner. They really couldn't help themselves, and without that spanking, I probably would have been brainwashed like them. In any case, I stayed away from boys, wore baggy clothes, kept my legs locked together and concentrated on schoolwork. I got straight A's, won a scholarship and, over the protests of everyone I knew, I went away to college. I got no help from my family -- girls don't need education past high school -- but worked my way through. I never lived at home again, relieved to be in an open society and away from those closed minds.

The ironic thing is, I really was a good girl, just as I was taught. Until Jim came alone, no one ever had touched me, much less done anything else! Now that I'm properly married, I am more acceptable back home, and, when they find out that I'm pregnant, I'll fit into their picture of a proper wife....particularly if I have two or three more. Fat chance of that! In any case, I learned a lesson, but not the one they tried to teach."

"Well, honey that is quite a memory and you certainly came out of that experience like a champion. Boy, I'm glad you weren't as stubborn when I spanked you that first time!"

"You know, that's another thing that they did for me. I had always been a pliable person; doing what everyone thought was right. Afterwards, I became very independent, going to college as an example. I didn't want anybody telling me what I had to do or forcing me to do anything real women's libber. I think that played a part in the way I reacted to Jim spanking me, even in fun. Then, however, you spanked me and something happened. In the first place, I knew that you were right; I had been acting like a real bitch and deserved to be punished. It hurt like the very devil, but, instead of wanting to fight, I wanted to surrender, and I just collapsed and let you spank me. Since then, with both you and Don, I haven't wanted to be independent. In Maine, both of you told me what to wear, made me do things that were embarrassing, things I hated doing, but, underneath, I loved it. I liked you both being bigger and stronger than I, controlling me like I was a little girl, punishing me when I misbehaved. I still don't like being spanked, but I do like surrendering the right to spank me whenever you wish! Shocking! Of, course, even more shocking, I enjoy knowing that you two can use me sexually any way you want! I'm weird! However, I will say that giving up my independence to you two is possible because I know that you will not really mistreat me, even if I act like a slave girl! It's odd, though, Jim would never mistreat me either, but I'd never want to be like that with him. There, I want to be equal, a partner, not a subordinate, and I wouldn't have it any other way." Then, "Oh my heavens, I've got to get home! Jim has been at meeting all day and he has a dinner meeting tonight and he said he'd call me at three o'clock and it's almost that now. I'l1 see you later."

"Wait, honey, if Jim's going to be out tonight, why don't you come eats with us. Then, maybe Don would like to have two hot women to work on. We need some relief after your performance at the mall!"

"Wonderful, Jean! I'll come over about 6:00, if that's all right, and we'll see about afterwards. You're right about needing to be cooled off, and I'll be ready if Don is."

further   susan   adams   adventures  

Feb 10, 2018 in bdsm

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