Anyone for Cards? Ch. 02

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My sister and I stood outside my father’s study in trepidation. Janet tapped gingerly on the door. “Come in,” bellowed my father in his best courtroom growl. Janet and I stepped inside and found father, seated at his desk, his wife Amanda, 35, standing beside him.

To my surprise, she was still clad in the humiliation lingerie Janet and I had ordered her to wear for us all day – a leather, quarter-cup black bra, black leather garter belt, black seamed stockings and high heels. My father, Judge John, was stroking our stepmother’s bare buttocks in a proprietarial way.

“Be seated,” said my father, a 60-year-old, distinguished looking High Court judge. Janet and I sat down in two chairs which had been placed in front of father’s large desk.

Then he cleared his throat, as if he was about to read out a judgment in one of his courts. “Janet and Jason, I am really very, very disappointed in you,” he said.

“I’m very sorry, daddy,” Janet said. At 22 and his only daughter, she could get away with “daddy”, but I knew very well that even though I was two years younger, I could not.

“And you, Jason?” asked my grey-haired parent, still stroking his wife’s stunning arse.

“I’m very sorry, sir,” I mumbled.

“I should damn well think so,” my father thundered. “You discover my dear wife’s little secret, the pictures she posed for 10 years ago, and you actually play out the scenes from the cards with her. I’m very, very disappointed.”

The silence hung in the air. “We’re sorry, daddy,” Janet said, once more.

My father harrumphed. “What appalls me is the total lack of – what shall I say? – originality.”

I gasped. “Lack of originality, sir?” I queried.

“Yes, dammit,” snapped my father. “You go through the playing cards, picking scenes. It’s ridiculous. It’s like something out of a pornographic movie it’s so banal.

“I thought I’d raised two intelligent, bright children. You’re a great disappointment to me.”

Once more there was a long silence, broken by my father ordering: “Feet wider, my dear.” Our stepmother placed her high-heels farther apart and I’m sure my father was fingering her pussy from beneath her buttocks!

Father then went on: “What I propose – no, let me re-phrase that – what I order, is that you Janet and your brother here, have a punishment competition with your stepmother. You will be the punishers and she, to coin a somewhat legal phrase, will be the punishee.”

I could hardly believe my ears and I know my mouth was gaping wide!

“Tomorrow morning, you Jason will go to a sex shop in Wardour Street, Soho, where I have an account in the name of Judge Jeffries.” My father paused, smiling at his judicial joke. Judge Jeffries was, of course, one of old England’s most cruel “hanging” judges.

“The manageress at the shop is – how shall I put it? – an acquaintance of mine. From her you will purchase punishment equipment to use on Mandy here, but you will not exceed the sum of 100 pounds. Do you understand, boy?”

I nodded. “Yes, sir,” I said, hardly believing my ears at my father’s instructions.

“In the afternoon,” he went on, “you, Janet will visit the shop and also charge purchases to my account not exceeding the sum of 100 pounds. You understand me, missy?”

Janet nodded. “Of course, daddy.”

My father pressed on: “It’s Friday today, so tomorrow morning I shall call Miss Hardcastle and inform her that you will both be calling.

“When you have returned with your purchases – which you will not reveal to each other – you will be given one day to rehearse the punishments you are going to inflict on Mandy. You, Jason, will rehearse on Monday – and you, Janet, will not spy on the proceedings, is that clear?”

My sister, also hardly daring believe what was being ordered, agreed.

Father proceeded: “On Tuesday evening at 8 o’clock, Jason you will perform for an audience of myself and Janet. You will have an hour to take Mandy through the punishment Isparta Escort routine you and she will have rehearsed the day before.

“On Wednesday, you, Janet, will rehearse your particular punishment with her and perform it on Thursday evening before myself and Jason, here. Understood?”

Sis and I nodded. “What happens in the competition, daddy?” Janet asked.

“I was coming to that,” said my father, his fingers still working between Mandy’s lovely legs.

“On Friday night at 8pm, we will all convene here again and I will call on Mandy to give evidence about the punishments you have performed on her, their efficacy and so on. I will then give my deliberations and name the winner.

“The winner will, from 9 o’clock on Saturday morning until 9 o’clock on Sunday night, enjoy the services of this lovely creature” – and here he gave Mandy a warm smile – “as their slave.

“The winner, of course, will be expected to be magnanimous in his or her sharing of the slave with myself and the loser of the competition.”

“Of course,” Janet said, hardly able to disguise the excitement in her voice.

“Excuse me, sir,” I asked. “Why do I go first? Shouldn’t it be ladies first?”

My father gave me an indulgent smile. “You will go first because you are the younger of the two and because I fully expect Janet to be the star of the show. And the star of the show always tops the bill.”

I nodded. Then father stood and gave his dismissal speech: “A couple of things and you can go to your bedrooms and indulge in whatever disgusting perversions you are currently enjoying.

“First, there will be no more of this ‘Mistress Janet’ and ‘Master Jason’ poppycock, which Mandy tells me you inflicted on her. It sounds stupid – she’s your stepmother and she will be referred to as ‘Mother’ or ‘Mandy’.

“You will, however, be allowed to continue to humiliate her by making her prance around all day in revealing lingerie, such as she is currently wearing, or in the nude. But apart from the rehearsal periods – which must not exceed two hours – and the actual evening of the punishment competition, there will be no other punishments meted out to her. Understood?”

We both nodded, keenly.

He smiled at us: “All right, now run along. This has made me rather excited and I need to assuage my excitement on this lovely creature standing beside me. Away you go!”

Janet and I made a dash for the door. As we left, I spotted my father dropping his trousers. His cock was ballooning his briefs.

We almost sprinted to Janet’s bedroom. In a flash she was out of her T-shirt and jeans and lying on her back on the bed, legs wide. I stripped naked just as quick and my eight-inch uncut cock was jutting out in anticipation as I climbed onto the bed.

“Yessss,” hissed Janet, as she grabbed hold of my hard-on and guided it against her weeping cunt.

“Yessss,” I hissed, as I felt the invitingly warm wetness.

“Yessss,” we both hissed, as my cock thrust deep into her.

We fucked.

The following morning, my father had his usual breakfast – kippers, toast and a pot of tea – while reading some stultifyingly boring law reports, over which he chuckled at the occasional, arcane legal joke.

“I have spoken to Miss Hardcastle, Jason,” he informed me, “and she’s expecting you at 10 o’clock. Don’t keep her waiting!”

At 10am on the dot, my taxi pulled up outside the sex shop my father had mentioned in London’s notorious red light district of Soho. Inside, I introduced myself to a large, blonde woman in her 50s. She was wearing a black leather minidress, which gleamed as it hugged tightly around her lush figure.

“Ah, young Mr Jason,” she smiled. “Your dear father told me to expect you. Let’s go into my office, far more quiet.”

I nodded, and noticed that in the main shop rows upon rows of pornographic magazines were being pored over by a collection of middle-aged to elderly Isparta Escort Bayan men in raincoats. So, dirty old men in plastic macs wasn’t a urban myth!

In her office, Miss Hardcastle, smiled at me and indicated I take a seat. She sat down at a desk. “And what do you want for this punishment competition you’re father tells me you’re going to be engaged in?”

I cleared my throat. I had made up my mind what I wanted for Mandy, but I was still slightly embarrassed at mentioning it.

“Er, I want clamps for the woman’s tits and pussy,” I informed Miss Hardcastle. “Oh, and I want a metal bar she must hold, which cords from her nipple clamps can be attached to. And a whip, please.”

Miss Hardcastle jotted down my requirements as nonchalantly as if I was ordering fish and chips from a takeaway shop, then pressed a buzzer from beneath her desk.

A young blonde girl, possibly still in her late teens, entered the office. “Nipple and piss flap clamps, iron bar for a sub to hold and a nice flogger, Trudy,” the older woman said. “And the spending limit is 100 quid.”

When the girl had departed, Miss Hardcastle turned and smiled at me. “You’re a very handsome young man, Jason, but tell me, are you as well hung as your father?”

The question took me by surprise but I guess I should not have been surprised at the forwardness of a woman who works in a sex shop!

“I’m eight inches when fully aroused, but I’ve no idea how that compares with my father,” I stammered.

“Gimme a gander, darling,” said the blonde, reaching over and pulling the zip of my jeans down. Before I knew it, she ordered me to stand and had my cock out from the confines of my thong and was stroking it to erection.

“Hmmmn,” she murmured, as my penis grew in length and girth, “very nice.” Then she took my cock in her mouth and sank her lips past the ring beneath my helmet and began to fellate me.

Just then, the young blonde returned, dropped some items on the desk, looked at me, winked and walked out again.

Miss Hardcastle pulled off my now stiff tool and announced: “Very nice – as long as your dear father’s but not quite as thick. Still, cunts don’t carry tape measures, do they dear?”

I blushed and pushed my stiffy back into my thong and zipped myself up. “How do you know about my father’s privates?” I asked, in what I now realise was an utterly pompous manner.

“Let’s just say I appeared before your darling daddy once and he was very nice to me. So nice that I was obliged to be – ‘ow shall I put it? – rather nice in return. Give him my love, ducks,” she said, placing my items in a large plastic parcel.

“That’ll be 85 quid, deary, and I’ll just add it to Hiz ‘Onner’s account, tell him.”

Back home, I inspected my purchases. The clamps looked rather cruel things. One set was marked ‘nipples’, the other set ‘labia’. There were rings placed on them which would allow twine to be tied, then I noticed that some thin cord had been included with the clamps.

The slender iron bar, which I intended Mandy to hold on to during her punishment, was just over three feet wide. But the piece de resistance was a lovely leather flogger, the handle a foot long and as thick as a golf club grip, the business end about two feet of broad leather, its end divided by a split which made it a two-thonged implement of punishment.

The following afternoon – a Sunday – I was lying on my bed, naked, stroking my erection as I choreographed in my mind the punishment I was going to inflict on my stepmother, when my sister barged in.

“Stepmother and father are busy in the lounge,” she whispered, putting a warning finger to her mouth. “Care for a bit of slap and tickle?”

“Nah,” I responded, “but I wouldn’t mind a fuck!”

Janet screwed up her face. “Sometimes, my dear brother, you are so disgusting.” And with that she peeled off her sweater and slacks to reveal her lovely, fuckable naked body, Escort Isparta climbed onto my bed and impaled herself expertly on my erection.

We had just begun to get into a nice tempo, when there was a rap on the door and without waiting for a response, in walked my father, wearing only a black satin thong, his cock obviously erect beneath the shiny material.

“Oh, sorry to interrupt your little game,” he said, as if he had just broken in on us playing a game of cards, “but your stepmother and I are watching some videos which we thought you two might find educational. Care to join us?”

I suppose one answer would have been “No dad, can’t you see I’m fucking my sister?” but that’s not the sort of thing High Court judges expect to hear. “Sure, dad,” I replied, and Janet climbed off me, revealing my stiffy, its foreskin pulled down to the ring, the helmet pink and moist.

“Oh, and make yourselves presentable,” he said. “Put on a thong and lingerie, or something.”

Janet and I then presented ourselves in the lounge to find father and stepmother cuddling up on the couch, Mandy stroking the front of his thong, father caressing her nipples, plainly visible in a black, see-through brassiere.

“Oh, hello,” said father, sitting up. “Cuddle up in that easy chair and we’ll start the first video.”

Janet and I snuggled together on the chair, me in a thong, Jan in a lovely little red PVC bikini, which hardly covered her breasts and made a gorgeous shiny outline over her lush pudenda.

“This is a video your mother appeared in at the same time she appeared in that rather pornographic pack of playing card pictures,” said my father.

The movie was entitled Sold to Black Slavers, starring Dick Rod, Eartha Ebonnee and introducing Britt Clitt.

I immediately recognised the black man from the playing cards as Dirk Dick, and the stunning black woman from the pack as Eartha Ebonnee. Britt Clitt was, obviously, our stepmother!

The 60-minute video showed Mandy undergoing all sorts of obscene and exquisite punishments at the hands of the black pair.

“I just thought you’d like an indication of how expert your stepmother is at being punished,” said our father, as we watched enthralled at the pornographic performances being played out on the television screen. “I must say it was one of the things that attracted me to her before our marriage!”

“Daddy,” said Janet, as her hand stroked my thong-covered cock, “do you mean to say that you knew all about Mandy’s background before the wedding? You knew she was involved in filthy videos?”

My father smiled, sardonically. “My darling daughter,” he said in a somewhat patronising tone, “I may only be a High Court judge but I am not entirely stupid.

“Before I married your stepmother I engaged an extremely discreet detective agency who uncovered Mandy’s past for me. Not that it made any difference, she freely admitted her penchant for punishment as soon as I confronted her.

“You see, about 11 or 12 years ago she was a very well known lingerie model who was recruited into the porn industry. As it turned out, it seemed she had a huge talent for playing, shall we say submissive roles?

“Like to watch the next video?”

Janet and I nodded instantly. “Yes please,” we added, almost in unison. Father, still very stiff-pricked, moved over to the cassette player and removed Sold to Black Slavers and inserted a masterpiece titled Seduction of the Sex Slave, starring Britt Clitt, with Penny Pissette and Tammi Golden, two performers who were chosen for their obvious ability to urinate extremely long-lasting streams of piss all over our stepmother.

At the end of that 60-minute movie, father indicated we should return to whichever bedroom we felt most comfortable in as he and Mandy wanted to have a “work out”. It was obvious he was not talking about calisthenics.

Back in my bedroom, I thrust my cock deep into my sister’s cunt and smiled.

“Well, it’s good news for me,” I informed her. “At least the first movie shows she likes nipple and pussy torture.”

Janet smiled mischievously up at me as I pumped her. “And it’s good news for me, too,” she told me.

“Cos the second movie shows she likes piss punishment!”

To be continued…

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