For sadists only – My second torture session

This is the second story after “For sadists only – my first time with the lash”.

After the horrendous beatings by Gary, I had it in my mind that I’d been absolutely crazy to have so willingly put myself into that situation. I knew without the slightest doubt that never again would I ever want to do anything like it again.

On the long drive back home I’d been tormented with wondering what my husband thought about the whole affair. Admittedly he had been a party to arranging the whole visit, and had seemingly enjoyed every minute of it, even to the point of holding me down so that Gary could beat me untill I was screaming in agony. Perhaps he had done that because he’d lost all respect for me.

Rob, my husband, certainly seemed still loving. He seemed concerned at my tender and bruised condition, but we had hardly said a word about the affair and each seemed preoccupied with our own thoughts as we drove home.

My own overwhelming feeling was one of shame that I had been such a wanton slut, yes, that’s the only word to describe me, … a wanton slut for Gary, openly, enthusiastically and shameless with my husband watching.

Over the ensuing week this feeling of shame persisted, especially when my husband and I played in the bed. Rob was still the same loving and caring husband though, and I slowly began to think that perhaps, just perhaps, he wasn’t put out by what I had done. Perhaps, just perhaps, he did still respect me … why else would he be so loving, seemingly much more loving than prior to our fantastic weekend away.
The thing was that neither Rob nor myself spoke of what had happened, each one of us, I realized later, being completely uncertain of what the other one thought.

The ice eventually had to break, and it did break about a week later when we were fucking and sucking on the bed. I was on all fours with Rob up behind me and pumping his cock into my pussy doggie fashion.
My bum was still very bruised and tender from my beating, and as Rob fucked me he pressed onto my bruising, causing me to wince a little and give an “ouch”.
“What’s wrong,” he asked with concern.
“The bruising is still a bit tender,” I replied, feeling a little embarrassed at mentioning it.

Rob must have been embarrassed as well because he was silent for a moment and then quietly said, “can you forgive me for doing that to you?”
I was surprised at his words because I’d thought that it was I who needed forgiveness, but it seemed that my husband was feeling pangs of guilt at setting me up for such a session.
“But I was hardly an unwilling party to it,” I replied, and then added, “you must be disgusted with me for the way that I acted.”
“Disgusted!” my husband exclaimed. “Why, I thought that you were the most, wonderful, beautiful thing!”

A cloud lifted and our true feelings came into the open. It transpired that Rob was thrilled with my lustful sluttiness and with the awful thrashings that I had been able to take.
In turn I let him know that I had been thrilled at being beaten and treated in such a degrading manner.
We were both filled with lust as we began to relive the experience, comparing thoughts about every little aspect of what had taken place.
“But you couldn’t have enjoyed it?” my husband asked in wonderment.
“No,” I admitted. “I certainly can’t say that I enjoyed it at the time and yet I did want it to happen and now I am so glad that it did.”

Most of the markings, that the lash had left on my body, had more or less faded away after a week or two. Some of the bruising though, lasted longer and I was quite tender in places.
Likewise, my emotional healing followed a similar path.

A few weeks after my thrashing, I began to look at my experience in a slightly modified light. Whereas at first it had seemed so very stupid to willingly submit to that sort of treatment, I now took the view that I indeed had to try everything at least once, and that having submitted to such a beating, I could now feel a pride that I had actually gone through with it.

It was comforting too, that my husband hadn’t lost any respect or regard for me as I had at first feared. In fact his view of me had taken quite the other direction and whenever we spoke of my treatment at Gary’s hands, he was full of admiration and pride in me as his wife.
Because of this admiration, I eventually suggested to my Rob that he might like to whip me. His reaction was rather surprising to me in that he shunned the idea and told me that he could never hurt me.
We quite openly discussed our feelings and, it transpired that while my husband had an abhorence of hurting me himself, he nevertheless thrilled at the idea of my abuse and punishment at the hands of other men.

Time continued to alter my attitude until after a couple of months I was looking back upon my beating with fond memories and I knew that if an opportunity arose, I would enthusiastically submit once more.

From that point onwards I purposely, at nights when my husband and I were fucking, would bring up the subject of what we had done, in the hope that Rob might suggest a repeat performance.