Martha's Tale From a very early age I was responsible for Dave. Only four years older I was expected to get him dressed and ready for school, in and ready for bed at night. I also disciplined him. I told myself in those early years that my satisfaction in hitting Dave - slapping his legs, spanking him, etc was justified. I was his mother and keeper at too young an age. My life was spoilt by him. He would suffer! I became used to total obedience - and on the few occasions he rebelled I was shocked and angered out of all proportion to the original act of resistance. If my threats of violence failed I would readily turn to blackmail - Dave was a bedwetter and a thumb-sucker. I could tell his friends. If I was becoming accustomed to absolute power - Dave was slowly adapting to life as my inferior, servile and submissive. By the time I was a teenager Dave was docile to the point where he had become more or less my personal servant. When I caught him gazing with naked excitement at semi-clad females in a mail-order catalogue I was incensed without quite knowing why. Dave looked guilty! And I think I was a mite jealous. Slapping and punching him I told him he was disgusting. Curious about sex myself I wanted to know more about what aroused boys. A combination of blackmail and violence persuaded Dave to give me most of the answers. I was startled to discover that certain clothing could inflame a man's emotions as much as her bare flesh. I needed to know more. Over the next few weeks I experimented with Dave in the privacy of my bedroom. We began with the catalogue. He would pore over corseted females and women dressed in sensuous lingerie. I would hold his genitals for signs of arousal. I would compare his reactions to different pages and to my own flesh. My own breasts were at that time small - but they were attractive. Dave fondled them and we both found the whole thing exciting. Day after day we stroked, caressed, and stared at various images - from catalogues, newspapers and magazines. If I became an expert at what caused Dave to lose control, I also came face to face with my own deep-seated desires. I enjoyed being touched by Dave - but only on my terms. I adored being 'in control'. 'Touch me here', 'Stroke me there', it was like having a robot that would not only excite me on command, but would stop when I wanted it all to stop! But the most shocking discovery, and one that I never admitted to Dave, was that I enjoyed hurting and humiliating Dave during our sex games! You must realise that all of my life I'd been physical with my brother - if I wanted him to hurry, I dragged him with me! If I wanted him to sit, I pushed him into the chair. I was casual to the point of brutality with my slaps and punches. It was only natural therefore that I continue my activities during our sex games. I can vividly remember the first time hurting Dave gave me a thrill. He enjoyed most of things I wanted him to do such as sucking my nipples and stroking my thighs. But I'd wanted him to kiss me between my thighs ever since reading about it in one of the dirty magazines Dave brought home. Right from the start he'd been revolted at the idea. My own shame and guilt prevented me initially from pressing the point. On this particular occasion Dave had been exceptionally skilful in arousing me. He'd learned that a combination of kissing my breasts and stroking my bare belly really got me excited. I closed my eyes and threw my head back in youthful ecstasy as he lowered his face to kiss my stomach. I moaned and writhed, helpless under his expert manipulation. Suddenly I desperately wanted his mouth, his lips, his tongue to go lower. I took his head and my hands and pushed towards my groin. Dave pulled away and I was left, naked and vulnerable - near the brink and ashamed. My shame turned instantly to a fierce and terrible anger. Striking out at him I used everything I knew. Dave was slapped, punched, kicked amid a litany of threats. At one point he was cowering at my feet. I grabbed the hair on his head and twisted violently. Dave screamed - which excited me. I pulled him towards me - and Dave surrendered. His mouth pressed weakly against my bare thigh. I distinctly remember the triumphs I felt. My blood seemed to fizz with a heat and lust I'd never dreamed was possible. Dave remained mostly immobile as I held his head between my palms and thrust my sex into his face! Grinding myself into his mouth, feeling the first hesitant flick of his tongue shook my belly, my thighs and my emotions like an earthquake. It was unbearably pleasurable and was over quite quickly. Drained of strength I allowed him to flee. I had discovered a new and wonderful instrument of pleasure and I had a new and effective weapon in my 'control' arsenal. Dave was showing signs of independence with every passing year. And he was getting bigger and stronger. I instinctively understood that my control over Dave was in fact no more than habit now. He reacted to my commands like a trained dog - but soon I'd lose control. Sex could help me - I knew exactly which buttons to press. And I'd discovered one incredible piece of information. Boys, not just Dave, but all of them, have a built in 'shame' associated with their sexual desire. No matter how straightforward or kinky their individual needs, they were scared and frightened by the very power of their sexual longings and hated discussing them 'afterwards'. By this time I was a skilful blackmailer and explaining to Dave that what we had been doing was not only shameful but possibly devastating in terms of our parents was easy. Dave became even more slavish - fearful of disclosure, fear of pain, and the need for sex - was a forceful combination. The day he left school I found us a flat. I had a good job and I didn't want Dave to find independence in work. He could work for me. Reluctant at first he soon adjusted to life in our two bedroomed flat. He continued cooking, washing and serving. He provided most of my sexual needs and I was content. Unfortunately I became selfish - thinking I was satisfying him in our regular sexual bouts I was in fact mainly pleasuring myself. And Dave had a roving eye. I've no idea how he met her, possibly when out shopping. An attractive little slut became his companion. When he told me he wanted to leave the flat - for her! I was stunned. I was also afraid. I simply couldn't bear the thought of losing him. Instead of flying into a rage I told Dave that I was against the idea but that it was his decision. This reaction surprised Dave, who I suspect had been ready to run if I'd exploded. In fact my surface calm was merely hiding a terrible anger. I suggested he invite her to the flat. He was extremely reluctant but after I pointed out that she would obviously have to meet me at some time it might as well be now. He was very nervous the afternoon Sally arrived for tea. I did nothing as Dave prepared everything. The fair-haired young woman hard eyes and I knew she had recognised Dave's weakness. She also noted the fact that Dave made, served and poured our tea. As we sat sipping tea I interrupted the awkward silence by asking, 'Did you iron my blouse?' Dave blushed crimson as Sally shot him a glance. He always washed and ironed all of my clothes - but I suspected Sally didn't know this. He nodded and offered Sally a biscuit. 'He hates ironing.' I said to Sally. 'I had to beat him before he'd do my undies.' Sally's eyes went wide -whether it was the thought of her boyfriend ironing my underwear or my beating him that gave her a fright I don't know but she stared hard at Dave as though he should deny everything. I slyly watched as he lowered his eyes. Then I turned the knife. 'When he was little I put him over my knee. I suppose he's a bit too big for that now.' Sally turned her eyes on me. I saw something there - a naked curiosity, a flare of excitement, that encouraged me. 'Nowadays I use a belt.' The words were like a grenade being thrown into a room. Dave looked totally crushed. Sally's eyes glittered. 'A belt?' She whispered softly. Seeing her lick those luscious red lips I experienced a sudden thrill. 'Don't you beat him?' I asked mischievously. Sally shook her head, and her mouth gaped. 'Would you like to?' I asked thickly. Dave watched his girlfriend like a rabbit stares at a snake. Her hesitation was fatal. 'Would you like to watch me beat him?' I added. She closed her small pretty mouth. Swallowed awkwardly. Her breasts rose and fell with a surge of excitement that was plain to see. 'Yes.' She answered in a small faint voice. Dave groaned. Still staring at the girl I said, 'Bend over the back of the chair Dave. Drop your pants. Sally wants a demonstration.' Don't ask me how I knew he obey - that's what is so exciting to me - the absolute certainty of my power. Dave walked like a man in shock. Dazed by the sudden and shocking turn of events he meekly unbuckled his belt, allowed his trousers to drift to his ankles, and lowered his body over the wooden chair! Sally devoured the spectacle like a starving child eats bread. I stalked around Dave like a queen. Sliding my black leather belt from the waistband of my tight skirt I swung it experimentally. Dave began to sob. Like a girl. 'Do it.' Sally urged. 'Hit him.' I saw the lust in her young eyes and I wondered if Dave was not jumping straight from the frying pan into the fire! SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK!