The Keyhole
Introduction:
I’ve noticed the trend where I post stories that I intend to continue but then lose interest after posting. I’ll try and get some continuations up here soon. This is my first BDSM focused story, so if anyone has some pointers or suggestions, I’d love to hear them. Also the age of the main character is meant to be ambiguous, make it whatever you feel comfortable with. Change the recess scene to Co-ed gym class if that makes more sense.
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A loud noise woke her up, a noise that Ayla couldn’t identify. Initially she tried to go back to sleep, but eventually curiosity got the better of her and she slipped into the nightshirt she was supposed to be wearing to bed. Creeping out into the hall, she could hear some muffled sounds coming from her parent’s room. The door was closed, but it had one of those big old keyholes from the century in which the house was made. Ayla knew if she could get close enough to the door, she could see into the room; however, that would also require crossing the other aspect of living in an old house, the creaky floors. She was confident that she knew where the creaky boards were and how to avoid them, but if she failed: her stepdad would be very angry that she was out of bed at this time of night.
Once again, curiosity won out, and Ayla began to make her way down the hall. In an amazing stroke of luck, she missed all of the bad boards and made it to the door. Nothing had prepared her for what she saw upon kneeling down and looking through the hole. Her mother was tied to the headboard by her arms, naked, with a red ball in her mouth held by a leather strap. Her heaving freckled breasts heaved with her flaring nostrils, and had red marks on them that nearly matched the colour of her hair. Ayla cringed as her stepfather, Steve, walked in front of the keyhole on the other side of the door.
“That ball-gag will keep you quiet now, slut. What do you want your darling little daughter to wake up and see what kind of a whore you really are?” Ayla watched as he struck her mother’s breasts with a bunch of leather strips. She nearly got up to phone the police, but something kept her watching for her mother’s reaction. Her mother moaned around the gag and arched her back, humping excitedly at the air like a dog. It was clear to her that her mother liked being treated like this. Why though, she could not figure out. She was being treated like a piece of meat; strung up, tenderized, and put on display like a prize pig. And how could Steve treat the woman he loves like this? He was degrading her further with every strike to her pale flesh, but with every strike Ayla could see her mother getting more and more aroused.
Finally Steve climbed up on to the bed and spread his lover’s legs, revealing a hot, pink, wet, shaved pussy and her mother’s eyes were begging him. Ayla knew that she wasn’t begging him to stop. He fucked her for ten minutes, groping her red tits and driving his cock into her with great force and a steady pace. He pulled the ball-gag out of her mouth, and when she squealed, he kissed her hard to quiet her.
It was only when the show ended, and Steve drove into her mom those last few times that Ayla thought to move. Her first step backwards settled on a creaky board and she froze. Hearing nothing from the room, she nimbly leaped back to her bedroom and got under the covers. Her pussy was wetter than she’d ever felt it before, and she couldn’t deny, fucked up though it was, that what she had seen had turned her on. She tossed and turned for the whole night, trying to come to terms with her own sexuality. If she had been turned on by seeing another woman degraded sexually, would she like to be degraded sexually? By the morning, she had decided that she would never let anyone treat her like that, lover or not.
What was the strangest part was how normal the morning after seemed. Her parents were cheerful and perfectly ordinary, giving no hint to the debauchery that had been occurring just hours ago. Ayla began to wonder if it had been all just a terrible dream, but the thought slicked her pussy and she tried to think of something else. A couple of times she caught herself looking at Steve’s pants where his cock would be, or her mother’s breasts where the red lashes would be. She couldn’t stop wondering, so when her mother went up to shower, Ayla decided that she needed confirmation. She excused herself from the table to go upstairs as well and when she was halfway up them, something made her look back at her stepdad. His eyes were glued to her ass!
Ayla stood on that step until he casually looked away a moment later, turning his eyes back to the tablet where he was reading the paper. Had she not seen what had occurred the previous night, his casual shift of attention would have made his eye’s previous target totally innocuous to her, but now Ayla could not think of Steve in an innocuous way. He was dangerous. She went up the rest of the stairs, an exciting chill crawling up her spine.
Her pussy was tingling with energy as she approached the door of the bathroom. Her mother was humming happily on the other side of the door, probably having just ended another one of her weirdly short showers. She looked through the keyhole and saw her mother running a black towel over her pale flesh. When she’d finished with the towel and set it aside, Ayla seized her chance. She whipped the door open and stole a long gaze at her naked mother, who had turned around in surprise, baring her entire sexy body for Ayla’s inspection. There was not a red mark in sight, just her freckled pink skin.
“What the hell, Ayla?” Her mother yelled. Ayla quickly realized that she’d come up with no good reason to barge into the bathroom like that and froze.
“Uh… I needed to go.” Ayla pulled down her shorts and panties and sat down on the toilet facing the open door.
“You couldn’t have waited one minute? Jesus, I’m stark naked in here.” Her mother crouched down and started collecting her clothes off the floor when Steve poked his head around the corner of the door.
“Hey I heard some yell…” Ayla watched Steve stop mid-sentence with his eyes on the fork of her open legs. His eyes went wide and he pursed his lips in that way that he did when he felt awkward. He said, “Alright then,” and backed out of the doorway and, presumably, the rest of the way down the stairs. “I’ll get the, uh, car started, eh?” He called from the kitchen.
“Just a minute!” called her mom as Ayla hung her head in embarrassment. “Hey, baby, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” She was kneeling down to hug her daughter and inadvertently pushing her naked breasts into her daughter’s collarbone. Pulling away and meeting Ayla’s eyes, she said, “I think we’ve learned a valuable lesson about privacy today.” Ayla nodded her head in agreement.
Ayla wanted to talk about all of the frightening and exciting thoughts that were going through her head but wasn’t sure how she could do it without revealing what she had seen. Instead she just watched her mother’s ass shake as she stood up and left the room to finish changing. She caught herself doing this, and shook her head thinking of how her perception of her mother had changed so drastically. She’d never really thought of her mother as being sexual before, but now that element seemed to be so prominent. Red marks or no, Ayla knew deep inside that she’d not been dreaming last night. And if it were a dream, it would still say something horrid about what urges dwelled within her mind.
The car ride to school was unusually quiet. Ayla considered it to probably be a good thing because the morning’s accident gave her a reason to be distant so her parents didn’t ask questions. There was something so different about how Steve had looked at her ass while going up the stairs as opposed to when he saw her pussy. Obviously the reaction was different, but there was something else to it. He’d genuinely not been expecting to see her pussy and when he did he didn’t know how he should react. He didn’t milk the opportunity like when she was on the stairs. Ayla wasn’t sure what that meant, if she was right, but it was mildly comforting.
School was ordinary, but Ayla couldn’t stop thinking about sex for the whole day, which put quite a different spin on events for her. During the soccer game in the yard at recess, she normally would be shoving and pushing to get at the ball like the boys were, but now she couldn’t help but feel that some of them were doing it just to rub up against her and the other girls playing. After a while of being “groped” (as she saw it), she started to use the opportunity to grope some of the boys. Not overtly, of course, but just when it made sense to push on a boys ass or groin to get him to move, she didn’t hesitate. She even grabbed the cock of one of the boys, Arthur, by accident and immediately apologized, in response to which he was very understanding. She paid a little bit more attention to him for a while because she noticed that his cock had gotten hard. She could even see the outline of it through his shorts.
He caught her staring and he grew so embarrassed that he left the game, the girls who were watching us play giggling at the very apparent reason for his departure. Ayla felt terrible for embarrassing him like that but kept playing the game anyways.
Her several classes with male teachers were also made more interesting by her newfound overly sexualized perspective. If she paid attention, almost every male teacher glanced at the breasts or ass of at least one of their students. Jesus, did everyone just want to fuck all the time? Still, she had to admonish herself a couple of times for staring at the outline of every man’s cock that presented itself. Her sexuality was like a new toy that she’d never really played with before.
That night Ayla couldn’t sleep, and watched the clock get nearer and nearer to 11:00. When the time came, she did her best to hide under the covers and pretend to be asleep but to no avail; because this night, no one came to check on her. She considered the possibility that maybe Steve didn’t check on her every night, but that maybe she was always sleeping on those nights. She ruled that out, having been unable to come up with a single night in the last six years where she has been awake and he didn’t come check on her.
Very suspiciously, she crept out of bed to her door, opened it and looked out into the hall. She half expected Steve to be out there waiting for her to break curfew so he could catch her in the act. There was no one there, as far as Ayla could tell. The light was on in her parent’s room, and she could hear very faint groaning coming from behind the door. The safe steps down the hall were more sure now to Ayla, and she committed them to memory again. She paused before looking through the keyhole, once again asking herself if she really wanted to see what was on the other side.
The answer came in the form of… she was already looking through the keyhole. Her mother was on her knees in front of the bed with her hands cuffed behind her back. Her mouth was wrapped around Steve’s cock as he gripped her hair and yanked her up and down like a reverse dildo. He would force her all the way down his seven inches and hold her there until she’d start to squirm and he’d pull her off.
“Thank you, Master.” was her response every time. Finally, he pulled her off one last time and stood up. Ayla watched as her mother’s body straightened to follow her master’s cock, and he slapped her cheeks with it, seemingly as a reward. His eyes darted to the keyhole and for a brief moment, Ayla panicked inside as their eyes met and he smiled. He turned his attention back to the kneeling woman and leaned down. He stuck his fingers in her asshole and straightened her legs by pulling up. When she started to straighten her whole body he stopped her and pushed her head down into the sheets so her ass was up in the air, facing the door.
“What are you, Vanessa?” He grinned; Ayla’s mother couldn’t see that his eyes were aimed at the keyhole behind which kneeled her enthralled daughter.
“A whore, sir.” She said emphatically.
“And what are whores good for?”
“Fucking, sir.”
“And do whores get turned on watching other whores get punished?”
“I don’t know where you’re going with this, Steve…” Steve’s hand came down on Vanessa’s ass with a loud crack. “AH. Yes, yes they do!” Steve smacked her ass again, “Sir!” she cried out in ecstasy. He continued spanking her, more lightly than the two punishment smacks she’d already been given.
Ayla watched the violence with fascination, her pussy shivering every time his hand came down on her mother’s ass. Was she a whore like her mother? She was undoubtedly turned on by the display, and had even seen the reason why Steve had punished her mother: she broke character. This wasn’t exactly a real slave/master relationship, just one for pretend, for fun. Sex was supposed to be fun after all, so why not do what makes you feel good, even if it was weird.
Ayla watched as Steve started to rub her mother’s begging pussy with its swollen lips, and Ayla felt the need to mirror his action on her side of the door. He started slowly, occasionally glancing over at the door as if to see Ayla’s progress. She mimicked his movements exactly and saw that he kept flicking the top of her mother’s pussy with his thumb. Being relatively inexperienced with masturbation in general, she had never really masturbated that area before, and flicked at the flap of skin that was there. It felt good, but only a little better than normal. She kept trying until the flap of skin moved and it felt wonderful for a split second. So powerful was the feeling that she stopped and looked down at her pussy. She touched the flap of skin and pushed it up and over, revealing a small, hard nub of pink flesh underneath. She touched it and felt energy course through her. She looked back through the door to see what Steve was doing now.
He was finger-fucking her mother’s pussy furiously. His hand was like a blur, gyrating and curling into her mother’s pussy with such force that her mother’s legs were shaking and her pretty red mouth was grunting and cursing out of time with his thrusts. Ayla, eager to follow along, started fucking herself with the same force and immediately felt a jagged pain rip through her abdomen. She could hear her mother’s grunting start to run together into one long cry of pleasure that crescendoed into a wild final gasp, but she no longer cared as the sound only formed the background of her pain. She stumbled back to her room, ignoring the creaks of the old floorboards and flopping down on her bed. She settled into the fetal position and slept the pain away.
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Ayla was awoken by her stepfather the next morning. “You don’t have to go to school today if you don’t want to.”
“What do you mean?” Ayla asked sleepily, the pain and everything else about the last night a distant memory.
“I found the blood last night. I didn’t realize… I just got carried away.” Her stepdad looked genuinely angry with himself. “I will be checking again from now on. I don’t want you sneaking out to see what your mother and I are doing.”
“You called me a whore last night.” Steve looked confused, “When you said, ‘whores like watching other whores get punished’, you were describing me, weren’t you?”
“Uh… yeah, like I said, I got carried away.”
“Mom doesn’t know yet?”
“She won’t ever know, if I have anything to say about it. She’d beat the shit outta me if she knew I let you watch.”
“She’d beat the shit out of you?”
“She absolutely would; she’s fiercely protective of her little girl. Make no mistake, if push came to shove, your mom is a scary lady. But she’s also a sexual being. That’s a part of her as well. And her tastes don’t make her any less of a person. So the moral is: always knock before going into a room.”
“That’s not the moral…”
“Whatever, I gotta get ready for work. Are you going to school?”
“Of course.”
“You’re a weird kid, Ayla. But don’t ever tell your mother I said so.”
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Of course, Ayla didn’t listen to him, and that’s why she set up the clever phone alarm. With such a sensitive clit, it was the only sure thing that would wake her up and not give herself away. She saw wonderful things through that keyhole, and couldn’t wait to try them out for herself. But that’s another story.
