Chapter 12
He didn't wait for an answer. Instead he got Sissy away from his cock and
said, "Here, girl, take this rope to the side of my chair, wrap it a couple
times around this post back here and start pulling it tight. Go real slow so we
get a good show. But don't go too slow. I want to get the bitches thinking
real hard about the joys of fucking and sucking. Mind girl, when I tell you
you've got five minutes to finish the job by getting one of them to beg, be sure
you do it or you'll get twenty five on that bare little cunt of yours."
The poor house slave looked frightened and confused, but she obeyed. I felt
a cold knot in my stomach, for I was confused as well. If I gave in I'd be
forced to cane my own mother's genitals, and part of my fear was I might like
it. The rest of me was simply terrified of being the one getting whipped. One
thing was sure, Jess was determined that sooner or later we'd both have our
tongues up somebody's asshole, but not before at least one of us took a brutal
whipping.
The bristly rope began to move on the floor, becoming less slack as Sissy
lashed it around the post. When the slack was gone I steeled myself against the
suffering to come. I wondered what mother was thinking. Was she thinking about
whether she could live with torturing her own daughter? Was there a secret
place in her that was excited about the idea?
I didn't want to live with the doubts and recrimination of being the one
doing the whipping, yet if I held out that's exactly what I'd be putting on my
mother's shoulders. "Keep your mouth shut no matter what," was my last thought
before the twin nooses began to pull.
For a few seconds I avoided the pull by thrusting my chest forward as far as
my upraised and shackled arms would allow. Then my chest came to a stop and my
breast flesh kept moving. At first it was merely uncomfortable, the rough
surface of the hemp digging into my tender skin. Soon the skin behind the loops
started tingling, and then burning, then in severe pain like a giant hand was
pinching a great expanse of skin. The bulging orbs in front of the rope
suffered in a different way as the pressure inside the mammary tissue built
higher and higher. On one side it felt like my skin was about to rip apart, and
on the other like the hard ball of flesh would rupture and gush blood and flesh.
My aching labia now came to my attention as the downward pull on my tits
increased the pressure against my genitals. My clitoris, which had been numb,
awoke with a stab of pain as it crushed against the wood. My head thrashed
about and I began to scream in a steady series of rising and falling tones,
"EEEAAaah . . . EEEAAaah . . .EEEAAaah."
I had to open my eyes and look. Nothing could have prepared me for the sight
of my grotesque tit flesh. As much from panic as pain I yelled, "Enough, I've
had enough. Stop. Please stop."
