Message-ID: <8089eli$9802041400@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: wgnmkr@aol.com (Wgnmkr) Subject: Family of the bride (Ff, Mf, inc) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-Id: <19980203163700.LAA18273@ladder02.news.aol.com> Family of the Bride I'm 21 years old and it's my wedding day. The hem of my dress is bunched up on my lower back as I'm bent over a table, and I feel my youngest brother's dick sodomizing me. As his hands grip my hips and his dick moves slowly in and out of my ass, I'm thinkng back fives years ago to my sixteenth birthday when this all started. My friends had just left, leaving my mother and me alone. My father, two older brothers and younger brother had gone out during the birthday party. We cleaned up and were sitting in front of the television when my mother turned it off and looked at me. "Today, Sara," she said, "is a special day not only for you, but your family too. It's been a tradition that the women in our family start training for the day when a special man takes us from being a girl to being a woman." "Mom, if this is about sex, I already know about that." "No, dear, it's about more than sex. It's about making the men in your life happy. I've done it, both your grandmothers, their mothers before them....And for you, it starts right now, today." She smiled at me, patted my knee and said, "Come on, follow me." She took me by the hand and led me upstairs, pulled a ladder from the ceiling that led to the attic, and we climbed up. We were plunged into total darkness as she pulled the ladder up after us. Before I could say anything she shushed me and snapped on a small light. In front of me was a black padded gymnastics horse with a wooden T behind it, probably attached to the horse, and black leather wrist straps hanging from each arm of the T. "Come," my mother said, taking me by the wrist and buckling on of the straps on it. "Mom, what are you doing?" "Beginning your training, dear." "Training? Training for what?" "Trust me, dear." She took my other wrist and buckled the other around it, so now I was slightly bent over the horse and could hardly move. My mom went to a large black chest and opened it, rummaged around for a bit, then brought out a plain thin black leather collar. She put it around my neck and buckled it. "Mom, what is this?" I pleaded. "This is a collar signifying your approach to womanhood," she said with a smile, then warned, "and you are to never take it off, under any circumstances." "Why? Mom, tell me what's going on." "You're sixteen today, and girls your age start to show independence from their families, start rebelling from their fathers and mothers, thinking they know everything there is to know about life. Well, tonight, I'm going to make you think otherwise. When you turn eightteen, you're going to be in this family and not a part of something else, and when a special man takes you from being a girl to being a woman, you will be prepared for it." Then my mother went back to the chest and pulled out a wide black belt. I gasped when I saw it and was afraid of what she would do with it. She explained to me that that was the belt she and her mother were beaten with, and she was going to continue the tradition by beating me. Then she got behind me and undid my jeans and pulled them anad my white cotton panties down around my ankles. At first she started softly, lightly patting my bare bottom with the cold leather belt. I pleaded, although it didn't hurt, for her to stop, but she just shushed me. As she continued, the strokes across my bare ass got harder, and I squealed in pain as the stings shot through my cheeks, legs and body. I began to cry and yell out as she continued beating me, hoping my dad would hear if he came home, but no one answered my pleas except my mother and the leather strap she beat me with. She beat me without remorse that night for about two hours, and since my hips were pinned against the horse I couldn't move to lessen the pain, and my ass burned and was a dark red. When it ended, my mother unbuckled the wrist straps and I sunk against the horse, rubbing my red hot burning sixteen year old ass. Unexpectedly, my mother consoled me and rubbed some cooling cream on it. Then she left me there, draped across the horse and crying. The beating I got that night was the worse beating I received in my sixteenth year of life. My mother gave me other beatings with the strap as I was pinned in the wrist straps against the horse in the attic. About once or twice a month my mother beat me, sometimes for no reason, sometimes because I displeased her, but the first beating was the worst I got. On my seventeenth birthday, after the party and after my friends left, my mother took me to the attic for the last time and gave me another severe beating, but she told me it would be the last because the past year of beatings had taken any hope of independence from me. During my seventeenth year, my mother put me naked in the wrist straps and horse and let me stand there, sometimes overnight, letting the cool attic air chill my whole body. On some weekends, she brought her friends up to see me, letting them admire my teen body, commenting on how much of a woman's body I was growing in to. Sometimes they would fondle my tits, squeeze my ass or caress my thighs. My mother explained that it was more training because it got me used to being seen naked by anyone and being broken in to someone touching me in my "womanly" places. At the beginning of the year, I was struggling against the hands on my tits and ass, but as the year closed out, the touching became an aphrodisiac and I looked forward to the women touching me. With one week remaining before my eightteenth birthday, my mother took me into the kitchen. The kitchen table had a thick blanket on top and rope was tied to the legs and laid on top over the blanket. I assumed it was for me, and it was. My mother told me to take my clothes off and lay on the table where my legs dangle over the edge and my ass as just and the edge. Then she tied my ankles to the legs of the table, spreading my legs as wide as they could go. Then she tied my hand to the other legs, and there I lay, spread eagle on the table top, tied up. As she ran her fingernails lightly over my tight stomach, tickling me somewhat, she said, "This is where and how a special man will take you into womanhood." Her eyes followed her fingers across my stomach, but her thoughts were far away. For the rest of week, she would tie me up across the table for about an hour or two. And during those hours, none of my brothers of father saw me. I thought it strange, because my mother would untie me just before they got home. I thought it was just more "being naked for anyone" training. I didn't have the normal birthday I had the previous two years. My mother forbade me to throw a party with my friends because she insisted it would be a private family party. Just like the rest of the week, she tied me up to the table, and instead of leaving, she sat in a chair and waited. We waited for two hours, her in the seat, me spread eagle across the table. Then suddenly I heard the front door open, looked at mom and pleaded with her to untie me before my brothers and father saw me like this. But apparently that was the idea. The four came into the kitchen with a birthday cake, balloons, and other party favors, and everyone shouted, "Happy Birthday!" I struggled against the ropes that held me spread eagle to the table, trying to cover up even after my year of nudity in the attic. I never expected this. My brothers circled my naked body, looking between my legs at my pussy, marveling at the dark curls and pouting pink lips, and staring at my tits, flatten somewhat against my ribcage because my hands where tied over my head. "This is the day, honey," my mother whispered in my ear and kissed me on the cheek. "Look," one of my older brothers remarked, "you can see her pussy turning eightteen." They all snickered at the comment, all except my father who told them directly to shut up. But he was looking at me too, staring at the naked female he created with my mother, tied before him, spread eagle on the table. Then he took a position between my legs, staring down at my pussy. He reached out and caressed my thighs, my muscles tightening up to his touch and straining against the ropes. Then he began to unbuckle his pants. The words "a special man" began to race through my mind. For the past two years, my mother kept telling me that she was training me for the time when "a special man" would take me from being a girl to being a woman. I chirped with the realization that the special man my mother told me about was my own father! I watched him as he pulled down his pants and underwear, exposing his half-erect penis. He put his finger to my pussy, massaging the soft flesh of my pussy and tickling the dark pubic hair that surrounded it. He bent over me and began to kiss my thighs, then moved up to my hips, licking my pink skin, leaving a trail of saliva as he moved up to my tits. He suckled my nipples into his mouth, making them hard. Around my knee and thigh I could feel his dick getting harder and larger as he sucked my tits. Content that he was stiff enough, he put the head of his dick against my virgin pussy and gently pushed through the unbroken hymen. A pain shot through my body and I squealed as he pushed further into me. Finally he stopped pushing until his entire dick was lodged inside me. He didn't begin fucking me until a few minutes had passed and the pain subsided a little. When he did start rocking back and forth on top of me, the pain returned, but as he continued fucking his only daughter, the pain eased and finally disappeared. My eyes were closed, but I could feel the rest of my family staring at me, being fucked by my father on the kitchen table. I didn't want to look at them, and especially not at my father. I felt him though, moving in and out of me, suckling my tits, running his hands up and down the sides of my body. The table wobble under the weight of his fucking and I thought, and hoped, it would crumble, but it didn't. His motions began to quicken and his breathing heavier, and my intuition told me he was about to come. The hot sperm shot into me, filling my womb, burning the walls as it coated my insides. His motions slowed, and I felt several more squirts of hot sperm inside me. He finally finished and dismounted me. Some of his sperm mingled with the blood of my spoiled virginity as it oozed out of the hole between my pussy lips. My birthday wasn't over, however. To my horror, each of my brother mounted me and fucked me too. My two older brother left me tied on my back, but my younger brother untied me, made me lean over the table and tied me up again, and sodomized me. The pain of my virginity went away when my father fucked me, but the pain of my first sodomy lingered through the rest of the day. After my birthday fucks from the men in my family, I was untied and me and my mother went to the bathroom to clean me up. When we returned, the cake was set out on the table and we continued on with my birthday party. For the next three years, my brothers and father continued to fuck me. My brothers especially liked to wake me up in the middle of the night and gang bang me. I would suck off my oldest brother, the next older brother would be laying on the bed and I'd straddle him, his dick inside my cunt, and my younger brother would fuck my ass. Whenever they had sex with me one at a time, that's the acts I usually did. After coming home, my older brother would make my suck his dick, the second oldest would fuck me doggy-style, mostly at night before going to bed, and the younger would always sodomize me. I don't even think my younger brother even knew where my pussy was. Sometimes, though, instead of gang banging me, they'd make me lay with my head at the corner of my bed so they could stand around me, make me suck their dicks, then they'd give me a facial. My father wasn't as nasty as my brothers. Maybe about once a month he'd come into my bedroom, make me stand naked in front of him so he could explore my naked body, then lay on top of me and fuck me missionary style for about twenty minutes. I actually got to enjoy my father's visits because it felt good the way he would suckle my tits and slowly fuck his dick in and out of me. I always orgasmed, too. So this continued on for three years, until now, my wedding day. I could feel my younger brother shudder as he came in my as for the last time. Throughout the whole day, my brothers and father took their last fuck from me until my husband took over the task of fucking me. I straightened up by bridal dress, and, as I walked out of the room into the anteroom of the house, I could feel my brother's cum ooze from between my cheeks and down my leg. I hooked my arm in my father's and we proceeded through our living room into the back yard where my husband awaited his new bride. -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ |