CHAPTER THREE
The panty-gag in her mouth was a soggy slimy mess, warm and disgusting. Her wrists and ankles felt like they were encircled by tight bands of burning lead. Her flesh was hot and raw and sore. Lynn whimpered to herself, working her jaws against the binding black stocking around her face and between her lips, tasting the saltiness of her own blood where the corner of her mouth, rubbed raw by the nylon, had begun to bleed.
She was gasping for breath constantly now. The nipple clips had done their tearing worst – biting deep – and now her nipples merely throbbed in a deep slow-burning rhythm.
Lynn rolled over onto her side in an attempt to ease the tightness in her chest, but only succeeded in torturing herself further.
And after a while, she let her mind drift again back to the times she had hidden herself in that tiny cramped closet and watched her father do those horrible painful things to her all-too-willing mother.
And the time they had caught her!
Lynn had been very. Twice before, she had hidden herself in the small closet in the basement when she heard her parents on the stairs. She knew she wasn't supposed to be down here – she was supposed to be sound asleep upstairs, tucked snugly in her own bed.
But the fascination of these strange instruments – all this weird equipment – held tightly to the teen's imagination and drew her down here again and again, until that time she'd hidden and watched in heart-pounding terror as her father strapped her willing mother's body into one of the pieces of equipment, bending her double, and…
But now they were coming down again, and she ducked quickly into the confines of the tiny room, pulling the door almost closed but leaving it cracked so that she could watch.
"Don't hurt me too bad, now, Phil… OK?" June said, her voice light and laughing.
"Who… me? Hurt you? Farthest thing from my mind, bitch!"
"Sure it is!"
Lynn watched in wide-eyed fascination as her dad led her mom over to a low table and told her to lie down on it, on her back.
June obeyed, slowly slipping into her submissive role, whining a little as she felt her husband draw her limbs wide and lock them to the corners of the table.
She knew she was in for a rough time of it.
But she loved it!
"Are you going to whip me, Phil?" she asked, lifting her head to watch him pull the final strap around her ankle – very, very tight.
"Ouch! Oh! Please… loosen it a bit, honey."
"Piss off, bitch!" Phil growled, then moved up and slapped his open palm hard against the soft flesh of June's thigh.
"Ohhhh!"
June was dressed rather casually in a pair of tight red shorts and a red halter top that knotted just under the full jut of her tits. She was barefoot.
Phil checked the tension in his wife's lovely limbs, pulled taut and already glistening with a fine sheen of sweat from the strain of her bound position.
He gave her a smile, bent over her and gave her a light kin.
June smiled back, but hen heart was thudding hard. She knew her husband like a book. He could be very gentle and even loving as he plied the little whip – during the first part of their session. But as things progressed, Phil became more and more lost in his fantasy, lashing out at her with a terrible viciousness, heedless of how badly he hurt her, even cutting her flesh.
June gulped as she saw him take down the riding crop. Usually he would start with something a bit less harsh and damaging, but tonight he was in a pretty horny mood. That meant only one thing to June – agony!
She clenched her fists in her bondage as she watched her husband approach, his eyes already glittering with lust and the strange pleasure he felt in whipping the shit out of his bound wife.
Without pausing, Phil lifted the flexible rod and brought it down as hard as he could – slashing it directly across June's well-filled halter top, smashing her large nipples back into the firm mounds of her tits. June was lifted off the table, her head thrown back, her throat working wildly to let out the scream of unbearable burning pain in her tits, but she was only gurgling with the intensity of the stroke. Phil slashed her again, not giving her time to recover from the first blow – lashed her across her thighs, just below the material of her shorts – and June's scream came out as a small hard gasp.
Lynn tried to shut her eyes, close out the sight of her mom's terrible struggles against the thick straps that held her to the table. But she couldn't keep her eyes away, just as June couldn't deny herself the pleasure of her own deep pain.
Lynn didn't realize how very much like her mother she was going to become.
She could only sit in the dark closet, her full attention glued to the scene of violence and lust before her. Thank God that her sister, Susan, was asleep upstairs!
June was pulling wildly at her wrist-straps, jerking her hips all around.
Phil watched her struggles for a moment, his enormous cock begging to be released. The riding crop was lifted high again, pawed, then came slicing down, whistling through the air to bury deep into June's heaving tits, tearing the thin material of her halter top and exposing her left nipple.
"AAAAGGRRRFFF!" June screamed, her body lifted high and shuddering under the agonized burning of the stunning blow.
"Bitch!" Phil spat at her. He reached down and unzipped the side of June's shorts, yanking the flaps open, pulling the front of the shorts away from the soft skin of her belly, exposing the waistband of her panties. He shoved his whole hand under the panties and grabbed a fistful of June's pussy-muff and pulled – hard!
He slowly dragged his hand back out from under the waistband, his clinched fingers clutching several strands of blonde hair. June's thighs and belly were thrust high off the table, trembling and twitching with the sharp pain of having her pussy mauled, her cunthairs pulled out by the roots.
Phil was deep into his sadistic game now, and June had lost all thought of acting submissive. She had no choice, now – she was submissive!
A deep part of her mind delighted in her struggles, her pain, her bondage – her humiliation – even as her conscious mind and her burning body fought desperately against each blow, each stroke of the crop, each perfect atom of pain.
Phil brushed the fistful of cunthair away, wiping it over the front of his open shirt, and Lynn strange warm wetness between her thighs as she watched the huge man working so efficiently, so masterfully over the mother – her mother!
Lynn felt her heart fluttering. What if that were she out there on that table, feeling those terrible lashes?
After all, her mother had let herself be bound like that, had come down hero under her own power. So she must like it in some way – maybe she was only letting her husband do those things to her because she loved him.
Lynn pursed her lips tightly and gave a sharp nod, making a decision. Yes! If her husband wanted to beat her like this, then by God, Lynn would let him do it – let him do anything he wanted to. After all, he was the man in the house.
She peered between the door and the wall of the closet.
Phil reached down and ripped open the knot at the front of June's halter, pulling it roughly from under her back and throwing it aside. June's large perfect tits heaved with each quick shallow breath as she gasped between the blows, trying to catch her breath so she could accept the next stroke, or the next slap, or…
Phil took his wife's large nipple between his thumb and finger and squeezed hard, twisting the nipple-flesh and pulling it far away from the mound of tit – lifting June's back off the table as he pulled higher and higher, making her whimper as he crushed and turned and rolled the firm nubbin between his fingers.